Winterfire

Chapter Twenty-seven

Lif

“Welcome to Elvidner. I am Ganglati,” a voice droned. Ganglati’s lips didn’t move when she spoke. “The Queen of Helheim is expecting you. Follow me.” I stepped inside and the door swung shut behind me with a sound like thunder. I had to walk briskly to keep up with the woman who had let me in, for although she was as tall and wide as Thor, she was not ponderous. She stepped lightly, daintily, and quickly.

The entryway towered three stories above our heads. A wide, polished wooden staircase dominated the room. I gazed up with curiosity, but we passed right by it and down a long corridor with at least a dozen closed doors on each side. I heard the sound of water coming from ahead. It grew louder and louder until we emerged from the corridor into a cavernous room. I thought we must be back outdoors at first; fir trees crowded the landscape as far as I could see in every direction and a three-story waterfall cascaded off boulders. A stream flowed past, disappearing into the forest. The scent of pine did not quite mask the smell of decay.

The most unusual woman I had ever seen sat in a high-backed chair in the center of a small, grassy clearing beside the stream. Ganglati lead me to the woman, bowed, and then left the room. I curtsied, but could not avert my gaze from the woman’s eyes. They were vibrant, otherworldly blue. Thick, black eyelashes touched the eyebrows. Her arms were tanned and muscular, her shoulders, broad and straight. She looked powerful enough to pick me up and toss me into the nearby trees. Every part of her head was bald except for a tall, brush of stripes from her forehead to the nape of her neck. When she faced head-on, only a shock of purple hair was visible. But when she turned her head to the side, wide bands of purple, blue, green, yellow, orange and red hair stood straight up, taller than the distance from my elbow to my hand. Hel’s clothes were like nothing I’d ever seen before. Her bright pink dress was a tight-fitting, sleeveless sheath that clung to her taut body as though it were wet.  It was encrusted with jewels in the form of runes. I glanced the runes on the front of the garment: Wunjo, which meant joy, comfort, and pleasure. Directly beneath Wunjo was Hagalz, in opposition. That meant loss of power, catastrophe, and stagnation. Well, that summed up Hel.

From the waist up, Hel was stunning: strong, toned arms, clear, glowing skin, and glittering eyes. From the waist down, she was a rotting corpse. Her clothing did little to conceal the skeletal legs. Scraps of decomposing skin and muscle dangled sickeningly from bare bones. A piece of skin even fell off as Hel swung her leg. She wore golden sandals on her putrid feet, and I noticed her toenails were bright pink. On second look, the chair Hel sat in was not a throne; it was a wheelchair. She could not walk or even stand on those legs.

The fir tree forest nearby was fresh and flourishing, but in the distance, I saw bare, scraggly trees. The stream, so vigorous and bubbly close by, dwindled and dried up afar.

“So,” said Hel at last. “You are Lif. I must admit, you’re not what I expected, but so many things we anticipate are a disappointment. Mordgud tells me you’ve come to request an audience with Baldur and Hodur. I will grant your request because I know your fate compels you, just as mine compels me. I know you will try to take Baldur and Hodur with you when you leave, but although your attempt is in your stars, your success is not guaranteed. I will do my best to stop you. Please accept my apology in advance for any harm I cause you, because harm you, I will. Have you any questions? Think hard. Rare is the soul indeed invited to question Hel, Goddess of Helheim.”

I was astonished. Hel was not at all what I’d expected. I understood I was expected to fight—Baldur and Hodur could not simply leave—but how could I ever throw Breyta at a woman in a wheelchair? If I just pushed the chair over, Hel would be unable to pursue us. I didn’t feel like I was in the presence of greatness, of power, not like I did with Thor, or even, on occasion, Freyja.

My fear would have vanished completely if I had not thought of the Norns. Veröandi had struck my face with no more than a glance, and she was a diminutive old lady. Threats came in packages of all shapes and sizes. It would be foolish to underestimate Hel.

I asked the question that had been bothering me since I first met Mordgud: “How do you and Mordgud know me?”

Hel smiled. Her teeth were straight and white. “We all know you, Lif. Have you never heard of the prophecy?”

“I know nothing of a prophecy,” I said.

Hel smoothed her dress and shook her head, as if in disgust. The she gazed upward and raised her hands beseechingly. “Why have you not prepared this child? How do you expect her to succeed when she doesn’t even know who she is, let alone what she must do? Ah, Odin, you make my job too easy. There’s no challenge at all.” She sighed deeply, staring at me.

Then she spoke a verse:

A Midgard lass, from Lindisfarne

Stolen from her past,

Lif throws a hammer smaller than Thor’s,

Hard and true and fast.

With Lifthrasir she will hide

Safe from Surtr’s flame.

Then rise from sleep to drink the dew

And bring forth Life again.

“Have you never heard that verse?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve never heard it. Who is ‘Lifthrasir’?” I knew, of course, that Lucan’s real name was Lifthrasir. I just wanted to hear her confirm it.

“He is your male counterpart. According to the Norns, one man, Lifthrasir, and one woman— you - will be the only humans to survive the Ragnarok. You’re supposed to hide in Hodmimir’s Holt, wherever that is. I have no idea if anyone has found this "Lifthrasir" yet, but the two of you are supposed to find shelter somewhere— nobody knows where— and emerge unscathed from the destruction of the Nine Worlds. You and Lifthrasir will have children and they will have children, and so on, until the earth is populated again. But all this depends upon the total eradication of the Dark. If any evil survives the Ragnarok, then things will be much the same as they are now: the forces of Light and Dark will do battle with each other, a fight here, a skirmish there, until another Ragnarok will wipe the slate clean. Of course—and here it gets chancy for you—you and Lifthrasir must survive the Ragnarok and you must be together. You understand that every Dark force wants to kill you both before the battle even begins. Odin should have warned you. If he had, I’m sure you wouldn’t be here right now. Helheim is the last place a frail creature of the Light, such as you are, should be. Odin will have some choice words for Frigga when he finds out,” she chuckled.