Books About Ragnar Lothbrok Novels & Stories

"My ancestor, the first black wolf we know of, was named Fenris. It's an alternative name to Fenrir, a premier character in the story of Ragnarok." I wrinkled my nose. "Isn't that the end of the world?" "Something like it." I leaned in closer, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it." David opened the book to the marked page and began to recount the story of Ragnarok. "I'm not terribly interested in the end," David explained. "Fenrir is the son of Loki and a monstrous wolf. His quick growth, large size, and massive power were a concern to the gods as they couldn't bind him."

“There’s more to the story though, much more. I would encourage you to visit my bookstore soon so we can discuss in detail.” “You see,” Mr. Pendergast added, “I need your assistance, Mr. Haraldsson. My daughter’s life may depend on it.” Bjorn, befuddled, swung his eyes from one man to the other. Mr. Rosewood then added, “Mr. Haraldsson, you come from a long line of Vikings, famous Nordic warriors of old. They lived at a time when people believed in magic, powerful gods, and dangerous monsters. Nearly every Viking was a fierce warrior. The question before us is, are you a warrior as well?”

KING RAGNAR LOTHBROK and his crew were away for nearly six months when they returned, bearing news of their triumphant raid. The people of Kattegat sang their praises, welcoming their beloved warriors back to town with jubilant cheers. Sophie stood beside Helen and the other slaves, a little away from the boisterous crowd, observing the Lothbrok family's reunion. Rollo's absence was notable, considering he was renowned as one of the best warriors. She watched the famous priest, Athelstan, whom she had yet to meet, warmly greet Queen Aslaug and Ivar, a display of affection that made Sophie wonder if she would ever hold them in such high regard.

GEMMA I furrowed my brows. Right now, it was from one problem to the other. We still needed time to recover from the fight with the Obsidian Wolves and now, this? Who the hell was even Ragnarok? That was the first important question. George left the office, leaving me and Nate alone. "Who exactly is this Ragnarok? And why does he have such a weird name?" I asked. He sighed. "Ragnarok is a barbarian. For centuries, after his pack broke out from our kingdom, they have lived on the outskirts, having no alliances with anyone. They're strong enough on their own." He explained.

"We are preparing for war. We will need every man, woman, huldre and child at arms - including the Hakkonsdottirs." Heith yawned loudly, then gave a bright laugh. "To think, in all my eighty years, I would see the rooster of Ragnarok. Pah! Tut tut, off to weary bedtime with you both, we need our rest for tomorrow's revelries - at least, these old wicked bones do. I am off to have my sweet mara sing me to sleep!" And with that, Heith hobbled out of the runic room and into the now empty long hall.

However she recognized a name that was written in an arch across the top. The first one she read said Fenrisúlfr then Vánagandr, before Hróðvitnir. All names she’d seen in the research that she did. One phrase she picked out as well had a name in it. Stating that here within lay Fenrir, bound by glipenir and with blade and chain he would be held until Ragnarok. She was surprised she read it so well, like it clicked in her brain. Like she could always read it. Maybe that should have been a red flag to her, but she felt kind of excited and started to walk around the thing. That scientific geek part of her driving her onward.

“I do.” Magnus covered his mouth with one hand, though I noticed the corners of his lips twitch. Even Ragnar looked suspiciously close to smiling. I narrowed my eyes at all three of them. “You planned this.” “No,” Ragnar answered with complete seriousness. “We merely expected this reaction.” Valerian pushed the top book a little closer to me. The leather cover looked older than anything I had ever touched. “The Founding of the Iron Fang Empire.” The second followed. “Political Structure of the Northern Kingdoms.”

The bed was adorned with gold and silver embroidery, and the pillows were plump and inviting. In one corner of the room, there was a small sitting area, with a comfortable sofa and several chairs arranged around a low table. The furniture was upholstered in rich fabrics, with intricate designs and patterns. Opposite the sitting area, there was a large fireplace, with a roaring fire burning brightly in the hearth. Above the fireplace, there was a large oil painting, depicting Ragnar in his prime, dressed in battle armour and wielding a mighty sword. On either side of the fireplace, there were tall bookshelves, filled with leather-bound tomes and ancient manuscripts. The books were arranged in

“What is she doing here?” I moved quickly toward Caleb before answering. “She can be trusted.” Ragnar looked extremely unconvinced by that. Meanwhile, Caleb brushed dust off his sleeve calmly like he hadn’t just been thrown into a room. “What is wrong with you?” I demanded, glaring at Ragnar. Instead of answering immediately, Ragnar lifted something in his hand. It was a book. My breathing stopped for a second the moment I recognized it. The record book. “You found it?” I whispered. Ragnar’s eyes shifted toward Caleb immediately. “No,” he said coldly. “He had it.”

armor worn by Hakon and Ranek. Others wore undecorated copper skulls covered in blood-red armor, but the design was eerily similar to gray male armor. In the cold light of the pale white sunlight, men in gray robes fought men in red. Ragnar saw him sitting on a pile of corpses. His protected head rolled off his feet. His limbs creaked under his boots. He was wearing gray armor and he could tell it was torn in several places. He carried one of the strange magical swords that Haakon always carried in both hands. One stopped working. His face was broken and his teeth were cracked. The other worked non-stop, trembling in his hands, surviving for a while, then stopping as if the spell that had c