My heart beat wildly like the hooves of an elk on the frozen ground. My breath came in short bursts at the sight in front of me. My eyes moved quickly from the curtain, now open and revealing an empty bed, to the man standing before me.

Jón looked up at me, his eyes half lidded and his brows furrowed. The tunic he wore was crumpled and fell halfway down his thighs, exposing his bandaged wound. The garment hung from his body, revealing how much weight he had lost in the weeks that had passed. His shoulder was pressed against the wall, removing his weight from his injured leg. Cradled in his arms was our son.

"The babe was crying," he said in a hoarse whisper. "You were not here."

The baby now had his eyes closed, content in his father's arms.

"You... you are awake..." Stepping around the spilled innards, I walked to my husband's side and placed a hand on his forearm. "Our son," I told him softly, looking down at the babe in his arms.

"You have done well, Valdís," Jón said, offering our son to me.

I took him and placed him in the cradle, careful not to wake him "You had me worried, you foolish man!" Unable to stop myself, I wrapped my arms tightly around his midsection.

Jón let out a grunt and I could feel his body tense under my touch. Quickly I pulled away from him, dipping my brows in crossness. "You should not be out of bed! Your leg is still injured."

Jón's face shifted slightly and I could see that he was about to defy me. Taking hold of his arm, I forced him to follow me to our bed. Jón turned slowly, his breath hitching and his weight baring down on my shoulders. He stepped with his good leg and dragged his splinted leg behind him. Coming to the bed, Jón fell forward, his leg losing its strength.

I assisted him into a sitting position, carefully lifting his injured leg to the bed. "Does it pain you much?"

Jón breathed heavily, his head leaned back and eyes closed. "It burns hotter than any fire."

"You should have not have gotten out of bed," I scolded him.

Jón cracked open his eyelids. "I have been in the bed for so long."

I could not stop the smile from spreading across my face. "Astrid informed me she would check on you tonight. She will be joyed to see you are awake."

The door opened and Stefán called out to me. "Valdís, I have—" he stopped, no doubt seeing the mess on the floor.

"Stefán." Looking out, I saw him holding two more buckets of organs. "Jón is awake."

A wide smile broke across the chieftain's face upon hearing the news. He checked on his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, before leaving to inform his wife who then informed Astrid. The three arrived at our house, the excitement of my husband being awake following them.

Astrid worked silently, her head bent over Jón's leg. I watched from the other side of the bed as she removed the binding and begin to clean the wound. The skin was pink and puckered, but according to older woman, it was healing well.

I sat on the bed with my fingers wrapped around Jón's, attempting to hide my smile. My fingers ran over the scars on his hands as the healer questioned him on how he felt.

With a nod Astrid confirmed that the fever was indeed broken and that the infection of his leg would not be returning. The confirmation that Jón would now be in good health sent a small laugh from my mouth. I raised my husband's hand to my lips and placed a kiss to his knuckles.

The healer informed me that after only eating broth, Jón's stomach might not be able to handle any amount of food. My husband informed me once the healer took her leave, however, that he would eat anything he wished.

"Valdís," Lára said, catching my arm as I exited the back. "I will help you prepare a meal to celebrate Jón's recovery. If you wish, we can go to the longhouse."

I hushed her and shook my head. "I believe it best if we feast here. Jón is a stubborn man and will not rest his leg now that he is awake." I feared the walk to the longhouse would be overwhelming for Jón's leg and did not want him to fall ill again.

Lára nodded and informed me that she would prepare salmon in a thick butter sauce and roast vegetables. Ingrid stayed when her parents took their leave, taking a place at the table and mixing honeyed raspberries and skyr together.

I stood at the hearth, preparing a thick stew from the meat taken from the sheep. Herbs were added to it, causing the smell to travel through the house. I tapped my spoon against the heavy pot and placed it on the table before going to the bed to check on my husband.

"You need not watch me as though I am a babe," Jón groused as he stared at the rafters above.

"I worry that you will fall sick when I am not looking," I confessed, coming to stand next to him.

"Woman, you will worry yourself into your grave."

The corners of my mouth perked up as I came to stand by his side. My hands moved to his cheeks and I bent down, placing my lips to his in a short kiss. His lips met mine, sending a warm sensation running through me.

Stefán and Lára returned to the house with their children in tow and food in hand. Our house, which I once thought large, now seemed very small as the chieftain's family entered.

The food was laid on the table, the aromas of each dish mingling together. I watched my husband as he ate, surprised at how glad the simple action made me. As the night drew on, the food quickly disappeared and the children started a game near the fire.

Jón and Stefán spoke of the raid, telling tales of the battle and villages they had been to. The men laughed heartily together and I tried to remember when I had last heard my husband laugh. Our son was tucked into the crook of Jón's thick arm, so small compared to his father.

The joy on Stefán's face was evident. Perhaps he was the one most relieved by Jón's recovery. If he had died, I would have lost a husband I had known for nought three years. The baby would have lost a father he did not know. But Stefán would have lost his greatest friend, the man who stood at his side since they were boys. My heart ached at the thought. For Stefán, losing Jón would be how it was when I lost Magnús.

I lay with my head on my husband's shoulder, lightly running a finger over the knotted pattern that ran over his left breast to his shoulder and down his arm. The lines were dark, only having been imprinted in his skin before he had left for the raid. It had a similar design to the sword he had gifted me for our wedding, the lines intertwining.

Tilting my head slightly, I met his green eyes. "What are you staring at?" I asked in a soft voice.

Jón only gave a small shake of his head, but continued to run his eyes over my face.

"You know, I thought you would perish and leave me," I confided to him.

"Do you think me so weak that a single wound would end me, woman?"

I felt his arm move as his large hand came up to stroke my hair. I stretched my muscles before settling deeper into his side. "The Gods all have plans that we do not know." I pursed my lips as a thought came to me. "Do you... remember anything said to you when you were feverish?"

"No – vaguely. I heard your voice, but the words made little sense, much as when the westerners speak."

I hummed as I laid my head back on his chest. "When the morning comes, we will have much to discuss."