Recognition dawned on Frida’s face as she was staring at the most feared dragon killer of them all.


Njal the Slayer!


Grunting from the searing pain with her right femur bone broken, Frida looked up at her enemy, knowing all too well, death was at her doorstep.


“You’re the dragon slayer, the Drengr they call Njal, aren’t you?”


Njal nodded. “Yes, I am.”


“Go ahead, strike me down and claim your prize. End my suffering.”


Njal looked at the woman lying in front of him. He was captivated by her ferocity… and her beauty. He marveled in the strength of her body.


Regardless being badly injured, she was strong and muscular, the type of woman he always longed for. A warrior that could be his equal. For the first time in his life, Njal found someone he thought he could bond with.


His heart fluttered as he weighed his options.


“Not today, my friend. First, we get you healed, then we discuss the rules of our battle. This is, if you feel the need to fight?”


Frida’s voice softened. “Please, mighty warrior, end my suffering, I don’t wish to go on like this.”


Njal ran his fingers through his hair. “Will you accept my help if I give you medicine?”


“No, I don’t want to be your prisoner, I would rather die. Please, noble Drengr, give me an honorable death.”

And there it was… Njal’s heart burst out of his chest at her request. This woman, no, this dragon, was ready to die a warrior’s death.


How could I fall for a dragon?


Right now, though, she was a human, a warrior, and he would give her the dignity she deserved.


“I give you my word, my oath, you will not be my prisoner. I promise to help heal your wounds until you are able to fend for yourself again. Then we will negotiate.”


Frida nodded her head. “As you wish, dragon slayer.”


With careful hands, Njal began to assess her wounds. He wanted to make sure he didn’t injure her any more than she was.


“May I pick you up and carry you back to my villa?”


“Yes, but no funny business.”


Njal’s eyes furrowed, hurt by his honor being in question. He was about to say something to Frida when he noticed her lips curl up into a tiny smile.


Chuckling, Njal asked, “May I have the honor of your name, my lady?”


“Frida.”


Picking up Frida carefully, Njal made sure to be as gentle as possible to avoid any more injuries.


“Pleasure to meet you, Frida. I give you my oath, to help heal your wounds, protect you when necessary, and provide you with nourishment to help sustain your full recovery.”


Frida nodded, and her acceptance gave way to slumber as she closed her eyes, wondering if they would ever open again.

 

* * * * *


As Frida stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, her senses gradually returned, the fog of pain dissipating like morning mist. Blinking her large, amber eyes, she took in her surroundings, the unfamiliarity of Njal's villa washing over her like a tide of uncertainty.


Looking down, she noticed her right leg wrapped up neatly as other wounds were tended to. The brightness of the morning sun washing over her face was a warm welcome. For the first time in a long time, a smile washed over her face.


The days that followed were a delicate dance of unspoken emotions. Njal, bound by a sense of duty, tended to Frida's needs with quiet efficiency. Marie, a nurse in his care, cleaned her wounds and changed the bandages. Frida, weakened and weary, accepted their help out of necessity. Her pride, though bruised, remained.

She would not burden him with her vulnerability, not fully.