💯 STORY CHALLENGE (30/100)
Stormborn — The Legend of Ylva | A Fantasy Fiction
The warm spring calm finally arrived in Stolthavn, causing Ylva the shieldmaiden to long for stormy winds and high waves. Her wish is about to be answered.
The ice had finally retreated, and the sun cast warm light on Stolthavn as if to celebrate its victory over the winter. Waves gently washed up the quay wall, announcing a peaceful spring day. But almost everyone in Stolthavn knew by now that trouble was brewing without high winds and waves.
Ylva leaned back on her chair, her legs resting on a small table. The young shieldmaiden studies the sunlight’s reflections on the water while she wonders what she should do on such a dull day. She misses the rough winds and high waves. Balancing on two chair legs wasn’t the same if there was no wind threatening to tip her over.
Despite her boredom, she enjoyed her favourite spot in the inn. It wasn’t the biggest table, but the smallest that didn’t leave space for anybody else. It was also closest to the water and had the same fantastic view of the ragged, rocky fjord. Most importantly, her foster parents had pulled her out of the water at this spot.
Whenever Ylva had time, she sat here to look out at sea, hoping for answers about who she was. But many years had passed since her foster parents, Fjell and Lifa, had saved her. She could hardly remember that day and nothing that came before it.
Absentmindedly, Ylva caresses the silver bracelet around her left wrist. A tiny engraved silver plate reads the word “Ylva”. Thanks to this priceless treasure, Lifa and Fjell knew how to call her. She was grateful for everything they had done for her, especially keeping her bracelet despite a challenging and hungry winter.
“Old hag, bring Björn and his men more mead!” a brusk voice shouted, and Ylva slowly turned her head toward it.
Not far from her, at the best table of the inn, sat a group of ruffians. The warriors had probably arrived with one of the ships that rowed into the harbour because of the calm. They showed off with foreign objects and clothes. Presumably, they had been raiding faraway lands during the winter. However, the generous way they spent their coin didn’t hide the fact that they were rude drunkards.
“Who do you call a hag?” Ylva asked the colossal brute who just spoke.
“Surely, not you,” the hairy warrior called Björn said, licking his lower lip, “You are a sweetheart! Why don’t you come over?”
Slowly, Ylva swung her legs from the small table and tipped the chair on all four legs. Keeping her eyes on the brute, she rose and picked up her tankard. The colossal warrior smiled and slapped a massive hand on his thigh while Ylva walked casually toward him.
“Are you as deaf as you are dumb?” Ylva asked, her braided hair moving as if picked up by the winds, “I asked who you call a hag?”
The brute tipped his chair over while jumping to his feet. Although Ylva was tall and strong, he seemed to tower over her like a Viking longship over a rowing boat. He glared at her, flexing his muscles to intimidate her. To his confusion, the young, blond woman just smirked.
“Here are your drinks, gentlemen. On the house,” an older woman said, who had hurried over quickly, “Please, do not pick fights with Ylva!”
The brute pushes the woman aside rudely, “No one tells me what to do, crone!”
Everybody, except the brute and his four companions, seemed to grab their drinks and duck under their tables. Waves hit the quay wall loudly, splashing water on the inn’s terrace.
“And no one touches my mother!”
Ylva’s anger startled Björn, costing him valuable seconds to defend against her sudden attack. She swung the tankard in her hand and smashed it against his right temple in a flourishing move. Björn staggered to his left, holding fast to the table to keep his balance. His men jumped from their chairs, looking unsure how to react. A stiff breeze rose and ruffled their clothes and hair.
“Here we go again,” Lifa muttered while running to the safety of the bar.
“You should be careful when you cause waves, woman!” Björn shouted to be heard over the wind.
“You want waves?!” Ylva cheered.
As if summoned by her laughter, a huge wave swept over the quay wall, throwing Björn, his men, and Ylva from their feet. Björn had just managed to stand up when a wooden chair came flying toward his head. While he tottered on the spot, Ylva appeared before him, grinning as if she had kept a joke to herself.
“No one attacks Björn without conse…. Ow!” Björn grimaced in agony, a tear appearing in his left eye.
Ylva pulled back her knee, and the colossal warrior dropped to the floor, holding his most precious jewels.
“And no one attacks my mother without consequences.”
Ylva sat at her favourite spot, enjoying the dull, calm, sunny weather. Like always, she wondered about the secrets the sea held and where she’d come from. At least, she could contemplate in peace now. Fjell, her foster father, had done a fine job with the sign hanging over her chair.
“Please, do not pick fights with Ylva.”
© Jay C Wells, 2022
💯 Story Challenge (30/100)
When I look at the sea, I feel a longing for the waves and the wind. I want to sail and see where it leads me. Realising my writing dream feels similar. It is a passionate journey leading to myself. Why don’t you support that journey by reading my other fictional tales, subscribing to my email list or joining Medium with my referral link?
Are you interested in the 💯 Story Challenge? Check this story by Zane Dickens in Microcosm to learn more.
Like always, I finish by leading you to a personal pick from the 💯 Story Challenge. Here is “Tokyo Blue Nights | Part 1” by Nikolaos Skordilis.