The Skies Unknown Pt. 01-04

The Isle Of Hakkor

And

The Skies Unknown

Part One

The Four Axes Inn

It was early November on the Isle of Hakkor, and the enchanting atmosphere of the island was enhanced by the whimsical touch of winter. Twenty-nine-year-old Professor Lilja Astrid Willowdóttur, a 5"7' Viking woman, radiated an air of elegance as she braved the weather. With her light skin, braided blonde hair with a silver Kransen, and mesmerizing blue eyes, she embodied the essence of a true Viking. As a respected teacher at Grimstaðr Academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft, where she dedicated her expertise to teaching magic to Odin's House, one of six houses.

On this particular day, Professor Willowdóttur trudged through the snow-covered streets of Ottersby, her arms crossed tightly against her chest in a feeble attempt to fend off the biting chill. Fluffy snowflakes descended gracefully from the heavens, enveloping everyone in a soft, wintry embrace. Despite the weather's icy grip, she had decided to grant herself a respite from the endless training. Today, she sought solace and adventure within the quaint village.

As she ventured deeper into Ottersby, the picturesque scene unfolded before her eyes. The village was a delightful medley of white rooftops, arranged in a charmingly higgledy-piggledy manner atop small longhouses and quaint shops. Laughter and merriment filled the air as clusters of Grimstaðr's students roamed the streets. Their arms, brimming with an assortment of delectable treats and meats, are a testament to their indulgence. Some clutched hot tankards of mead in gloved hands, their rosy cheeks, and slightly purpled lips bearing witness to the wintry conditions. Despite the biting cold and relentless snowfall, the spirit of the people remained unyielding.

Professor Willowdóttur couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of students reviling in the magical ambiance, their spirits were undampened by the inclement weather. At that moment, as the snowflakes danced around her, Professor Willowdóttur couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of wonder and appreciation for the magic that surrounded her. With a faint smile playing upon her lips, she continued her stroll through the enchanting village, relishing in the lively atmosphere and embracing the tranquillity of her well-deserved day off.

The air crackled with anticipation as the lively Ottersby villagers sang in unison, their voices blending into a harmonious melody. The arrival of the snowy season had transformed the quaint village into a bustling hub of excitement. Vikings, drawn from every corner of the island, ventured great distances, although the convenience of broom travel made it a breeze. Their ultimate destination, is the renowned Ragnarok Broom Emporium, the exquisite Valhalla sweet shop, and the delightful prospect of savouring a frothy mead in the cosy confines of the Four Axes Inn. Amidst the throng, Professor Willowdóttur seized the opportunity to immerse herself in the vibrant atmosphere. Eager to reach the sanctuary of the Four Axes Inn, she deftly navigated the swirling crowd, her movements a graceful dance of twists and turns.

As snowflakes swirled around her, she glided through the deep snow, propelled by a sense of urgency. With each step, her boots left imprints in the pristine snow, marking her determined path toward the inviting warmth of the inn. Finally, she arrived at her destination, the door of the Four Axes Inn swinging open before her. Stepping inside, she was immediately enveloped in a comforting cocoon of heat and affinity. The low hum of cheerful conversations mingled with the crackling of the fireplace, casting a golden glow that painted the room with a cosy ambiance. Professor Willowdóttur's face lit up with a satisfied smile, grateful for the respite the inn offered from the winter chill outside.

"Hello, Lilja," greeted Freyja Helvig, the amiable owner of the Four Axes Inn. "It's quite a surprise to have you grace us with your presence. We don't often see you in here." Freyja's eyes twinkled with a mix of curiosity and respect as she acknowledged Professor Willowdóttur.

"Good afternoon, Freyja," Professor Willowdóttur beamed, a glimmer of relief in her eyes. "I've been going bonkers grading papers. I needed a break, and there's no better place to unwind than here, at the Four Axes Inn. I've been craving your famous mead and perhaps a couple of your delectable mutton pies," she concluded with a contented sigh. Freyja returned her smile, understanding the demanding nature of her work. With a deft hand, she poured a generous glass of warm, frothy mead, the tantalizing aroma wafting through the air. She then swiftly retrieved two fresh mutton pies, their golden crusts glistening enticingly. Placing them on a small plate, she carefully set them in front of Lilja, a gesture of both hospitality and friendship. As Professor Willowdóttur lifted the tankard to her lips, the rich flavours of the mead danced on her tongue, providing a momentary respite from the stresses of academia. A sense of gratitude washed over her, and she couldn't help but express her appreciation. "Thank you, Freyja. This is exactly what I needed," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. She silently conveyed her gratitude for Freyja's kindness and the comfort her establishment provided her in times of need.

"Your welcome, Lilja," Freyja said warmly, her smile reaching her eyes. "Please do come and visit us more often. It's always an absolute pleasure to have you here, seeing you again."

"I promise, Freyja. I promise," Professor Willowdóttur replied, savouring a delectable bite of the mutton pie as she waved Freyja goodbye. The flavours danced on her palate, mingling with the bittersweet feeling of leaving a cherished place.

Professor Willowdóttur spun around, her eyes darting across the bustling Inn in search of a vacant table. The air was thick with anticipation, and the room was packed with Vikings, their voices merging into an indistinguishable hum. At that moment, her heart raced, leaving her breathless and causing her legs to falter momentarily. And then, like a mirage materializing before her, she caught sight of him. Jugson Eero Fjordson, her secret lover and the person who held the key to her heart, sat tall and confident on a bench beside a crackling, inviting fire. Jugson is an eighteen-year-old Viking and Grimstaðr Academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft student, standing at an impressive 6"1" and has a captivating blend of light brown skin accentuating his features, with his tousled black hair and beard framing his face, drawing attention to his enchanting purple eyes. A seventh-year student at Grimstaðr, Jugson is in Professor Willowdóttur Odin's House.

Engrossed in conversation, Jugson was accompanied by Bramble Evensen, another eighteen-year-old Grimstaðr Academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft student. The two were engrossed in their dialogue, their words carried away by the ambient noise of the Inn. Meanwhile, Professor Willowdóttur took a moment to steady herself, her racing pulse gradually returning to a more composed rhythm. Summoning her courage, she began her slow and deliberate approach, each step closer to Jugson a testament to her longing. Jugson, ever perceptive, caught a glimpse of Professor Willowdóttur from the corner of his eye. Instantly, his heart skipped a beat, and a surge of euphoria coursed through his veins. The mere sight of her ignited a light-headedness that transported him to a realm of unparalleled enchantment.

"Hello, Professor Willowdóttur," Jugson stammered, his legs trembling as he involuntarily rose from the bench. His voice, usually confident and deep, now emerged slightly squeaky, betraying his nervousness. Bramble, chimed in with a warm greeting also to Professor Willowdóttur.

"Hello, Bramble. Good afternoon, Jugson," Professor Willowdóttur greeted, her smile reaching to her eyes as she acknowledged Bramble's presence. Her gaze then shifted to Jugson, and a subtle twinkle danced within her eyes as if a silent conversation unfolded between them. Lost in each other's gaze, they shared a moment that seemed to suspend time itself.

Jugson and Professor Willowdóttur were abruptly pulled from their reverie as Bramble broke the enchantment with his words. "Sorry, Professor Willowdóttur," Bramble interjected with excitement, "I have to go. I need to make a stop at Ragnarok Broom Emporium and then hurry back to Grimstaðr. I've got a date!" His face beamed with anticipation as he embraced Jugson, exchanged a farewell wave with Professor Willowdóttur, and gracefully made his way through the bustling inn, stepping out into the chilly, snow-covered street. As Bramble disappeared, Professor Willowdóttur and Jugson found themselves locked in an awkward moment. Aware of the curious gazes around them, they couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness about being seen together.

Feeling the weight of the lingering awkwardness, Jugson summoned the courage to dissolve the tension. His voice quivered slightly as he spoke, "Um... Well, should we... Should we sit?" The nerves were evident in his words. Professor Willowdóttur's warm smile in response reassured him, and she nodded in agreement. Taking the lead, she gracefully settled herself in front of the crackling fire, cradling her mead in her hands. Jugson followed suit, easing himself into a seat beside her, finally allowing himself to relax as he savoured the comforting ambiance of the moment.

"How was Kústurbolti practice today? Are we looking strong this year? We simply can't allow Loki's House to win again," inquired Professor Willowdóttur, her voice laced with determination and a hint of competitive spirit.

(Kústurbolti or Broom Ball is a sport involving two teams of five Vikings riding brooms, trying to throw a ball through one of two hoops. Each team has one Hoop keeper protecting the hoops and three strikers trying to score in the opponent's hoops each goal is worth five points to win you must reach fifty. And each team has one chaser their only goal is to try and catch a black sheep hidden somewhere in Hakkor, if you catch the black sheep, you win automatically.)

Jugson's face lit up with excitement at the mention of Kústurbolti, his absolute favourite thing in the world, well, second favourite, if he were being honest. Unable to contain himself, he blurted out, "Yes!" The sheer enthusiasm in his voice was palpable. "Ragnar Ohlson our keeper, oh Thor, he's an unstoppable force guarding the hoops. It's as if he has an impenetrable wall of magic surrounding him. "A mischievous grin spread across Jugson's face as he continued, "And as for Frida Lykke, Bramble, and myself, well, we're still as amazing as ever, scoring goals for fun. Our manoeuvres, and our tactics, leave even the most seasoned players bewildered. Those Loki's won't know what hit them when we take to the pitch, you need to come to watch us?" His words elicited a light giggle from Professor Willowdóttur, who found his enthusiasm infectious.

"You know, Jugson," she responded, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "I just might have to take you up on that offer. Watching your team in action sounds like an absolute delight. I'll be there at practice tomorrow. Oh, our new chaser, Rune Flett, was it? The first year, How's she settling?" Professor Willowdóttur exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took intermittent sips of her mead. She leaned forward in her chair, eagerly awaiting an update.

"Well, she's fast, no question about that," Jugson paused, his brows furrowing as he pondered. "But she seems to be easily affected by the bullying from other chaser," he sighed, a hint of concern in his voice. "I must say, though, she's not quite on the same level as Carwyn Larsen or the best Odin's house and Grimstaðr chaser in recent generations, Lilja Astrid Willowdóttur," Jugson remarked, his tone filled with a touch of nostalgia. "Now, Lilja, she was truly brilliant," he continued, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Not to mention unbelievably gorgeous and captivating as well," he concluded, his words turning into a whisper as if revealing a secret.

Professor Willowdóttur's cheeks flushed with a gentle hue of pink. "Oh, I remember a young man by the name of Jugson Eero Fjordson," she reminisced, her voice softening with a touch of fondness. She directed a warm smile toward Jugson. "He was such an adorable little boy," she continued, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "In addition to being cute, he had a remarkable shyness about him, and he was quite skinny and short too," she added, her voice filled with affectionate recollection.

"Whatever happened to him?" Jugson said, his voice laced with a mischievous giggle.

Professor Willowdóttur chuckled softly giving a little snort, her cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment, which only fuelled Jugson's amusement further. As she composed herself, she continued, her voice tinged with fondness, "Well, he didn't disappoint. He blossomed into a remarkably handsome and self-assured Viking. To top it off, he became Odin's house star Kústurbolti player and earned the role of team captain." Her words were accompanied by a tender gesture as she gently held his hand, her thumb caressing the back of his hand. The simple touch sent a delightful shudder coursing through Jugson's entire body.

Jugson cast a glance around, ensuring that their intimate moment remained hidden from prying eyes and ears. "I've missed you, Lilja, I love you," Jugson said passionately but quietly, as his hand slowly slipped underneath her fur skirt and gently stroked up and down her inner thigh, Professor Willowdóttur's breaths came in hard and fast at Jugson's touch.

"I love you too, sweetie," Professor Willowdóttur responded softly, her voice carrying a mixture of affection and concern. Her eyes met Jugson's, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored his own. "But we must be careful. Until you finish Grimstaðr, no one must discover our relationship. I want nothing more than to be with you, but it must be at the right place and the right time." Her words carried a sense of urgency, emphasizing the importance of discretion and patience. Professor Willowdóttur understood the significance of prioritizing their futures and the need to protect their secret until the opportune moment arose.

"Can't we just go back to that cosy room in the Silver Hammer?" Jugson's voice carried a hint of longing as he reminisced. "You know, the one with the charmingly squeaky bed? Ah, I adored that room," he concluded, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Looking around mischievously, Professor Willowdóttur couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Well, that's only because I happened to be lying on my back, completely naked, the entire time," she confessed with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"No, well, not just because of that," Jugson replied, a gentle smile adorning his face as he indulged in vivid memories of Professor Willowdóttur on her back, legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts bouncing wildly and passionately calling out his name in between breathless pants. "It's because those days spent together in that room, we felt like lovers, like husband and wife. There was no need for hiding or keeping secrets," Jugson concluded, his voice tinged with a mixture of desire and nostalgia. "And also I loved the way your boobies bounced," Jugson said, as his hand reached further underneath her fur skirt, and began slowly inserting a finger deep into her. Professor Willowdóttur panted and couldn't control her breathing. As her hips ground on Jugson's hand, his finger slowly slipped in and out of her.

Professor Willowdóttur, very reluctantly pulled Jugson's finger out, with her juices on his hand and leaking down her thigh while still panting and trying to control her breathing. "We can't Jugson, we agreed on no sex at Grimstaðr," she said sternly, to a crestfallen-looking Jugson, upset at her words.

"I know we agreed, but I can't suppress these feelings much longer," Jugson admitted earnestly. "Every time I lay eyes on you, whether it's in your class, the Great Hall, or at Kústurbolti matches, or simply passing you in the corridors of Grimstaðr, an urge consumes me. I want to sweep you off your feet, passionately kiss you, undress you quickly, and have you right there and then," Jugson practically pleaded, his voice filled with an irresistible mix of longing and desperation.

"I know, I know. I feel the same way every time I see you, I just want you to rip my clothes off and have me repeatedly against the wall. And I see all the girls throwing themselves at you, trying to get you. Makes me feel jealous and angry. I was close to throwing an axe at that Eivor Sigvaldisson of Thor's house the other day if she didn't stop touching you," Professor Willowdóttur said angrily surprising Jugson.

"So, I suppose I won't be able to go on a date with any of them, especially Eivor Sigvaldisson," Jugson lamented, his gaze shifting to the stern countenance of Professor Willowdóttur. Her expression spoke volumes, but Jugson swiftly interjected. "There's only one woman I've ever desired," he proclaimed, his voice filled with sincerity, eliciting a soft, affectionate smile from Professor Willowdóttur. As his hand gently caressed her thigh, now grazing the fabric of her skirt.

Professor Willowdóttur clasped Jugson's hand once more, cradling it gently within her own. "In that case, I guess we can try and find a secure place within Grimstaðr. A place where we can freely express our desires without concern of unwelcome interruptions. It should be conveniently accessible for you to discreetly slip away," Professor Willowdóttur pondered, a perplexed expression adorning her face.

Jugson contemplated for a moment, a glimmer of realization dancing across his features, before a mischievous smile played upon his lips. "I have a rather simple solution," he declared nonchalantly, drawing a quizzical expression from Professor Willowdóttur. "We can use the Kústurbolti storage room, nobody ever uses it. I can navigate there safely, evading all the patrols," Jugson concluded, his words met with a radiant and joyous expression from Professor Willowdóttur, who couldn't contain her happiness.

Professor Willowdóttur's hand continued its gentle exploration, now gliding along Jugson's thigh. "In the Kústurbolti storage room, we can be as loud as we like," she exclaimed gleefully, her excitement palpable.

"We?" Jugson burst into laughter, causing Professor Willowdóttur's expression to shift into a playful pout. "If my memory serves me right, you were the one making all the noise that week," he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he recalled their past encounters, prompting Professor Willowdóttur to shoot him a feigned glare accompanied by an endearing smile.

"Perhaps it would be wise to hold off until you finish Grimstaðr," Professor Willowdóttur suggested with a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Jugson's face feigned sadness as he responded, "Sorry," he uttered, adopting a mockingly sorrowful expression, which instantly elicited a giggle from Professor Willowdóttur.

As they engaged in conversation, three Grimstaðr teachers entered the Four Axes Inn, Ulf Iverson, the teacher of Frigg House, Asti Salverson, the teacher of Balder House and Ivar Albertsen, the teacher of Hel House. They promptly ordered Mead from Freyja and proceeded to approach Jugson and Professor Willowdóttur, who swiftly withdrew their hands from each other's grasp.

"Good afternoon," Jugson greeted them, promptly rising from his seat. "Thank you for your assistance with Kústurbolti, Professor Willowdóttur. However, I must be leaving as I have some homework to complete," he concluded.

"You're welcome, Jugson. I'm always here to help whenever you need it," Professor Willowdóttur replied, her smile warm and genuine.