Balder
By Camille Oster
Copyright ©2018 Camille Oster
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Camille Oster – Author
www.camilleoster.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camille-Oster/489718877729579
[email protected]
Chapter 1
COLD AND DEEP, THAT was all she knew. The utter stillness, the lack of being. No thoughts, just emptiness. At times she felt currents move around her, trickle along her being, but she never moved. Mostly, there was nothingness and it was what she wanted.
With remembrance came old wounds and accusations. Emotions were a heavy burden if you carried them for so long—forever perhaps.
Was this what true death felt like, the emptiness and stillness? She hoped so, but she knew she didn't have it—true death. It had claimed most, but it never came for her. Why was the world so cruel?
If she remembered, she would think of all the people she had lost. There was nothing left of the person she had been. Time had wiped it all away. Consciousness only brought sorrow, so she preferred to give that consciousness away to the dark and cold.
She’d felt the cold in her limbs once, but not anymore. Her body, unmoving and forgotten, didn't feel anything. Neither did her mind, and she preferred it that way.
Maybe one day she would wake to a new world, to be a new person, but not yet. She was not free, and freedom meant everything.
More currents shifted along the water she was immersed in. Something was moving. If it was dangerous, she didn't care. True death would be a relief, but she had given up praying for it. There was no one to answer her prayers.
Over the endless centuries, she had tried every way possible to achieve true death, but could not. No matter what she did, she was restored—a curse unlike any other.
As the currents settled, so did her mind. She floated and her bare consciousness stilled to nothingness. The currents were the only thing to fear down here, because there was no sound, no light, no taste, just the odd current that stroked along her skin—from whatever creature moved out there.
It was new, this creature. For a long time, there was nothing that disturbed the cold waters, but there was now. She felt it moving through the water. It didn't approach, but the waves filtered through to her at times. If only it would die, or better yet, kill her.
It was exhausting thinking about it, so she stopped and stilled her mind, letting it drift into nothingness.
Chapter 2
FROST CRUNCHED UNDER Hel's feet as she walked in the moonlight. Small cottages were lit with fires, scattered across the glade. Leaves sang in the trees with the wind and it was just starting to snow. One of her hounds howled, and her three-legged horse waited patiently.
Not a sound was made, but the people knew she was here. If not exactly, they knew sorrow was coming for whoever loved the person she was here to claim.
Instincts led her to a cottage and she walked through the wall, feeling the warmth from the fire. Warmth stung her skin, clinging like an unwanted lover.
A woman lay on her cot—old with grey hair and wrinkled skin. Her eyes shifted to Hel as she appeared and they widened.
"Don't fear," Hel said. "It is time to go."
The woman tried to mumble, but she was tired and her body no longer did her will. Leaning down, Hel picked up the woman and carried her out of the house without being seen by the other two people still staring back at the cot.
Once outside, she mounted her horse and rode to the nearest river. The population of humans was sparse so she didn't need to come often. Tonight, she had a new member of her realm. The woman was dead, her mouth hanging open.
The horse diving into the icy water, emerged through the much colder Gjoll, where the ice cut as sharp knives, piercing the flesh of the woman in Hel's arms. She did not feel it.
Her return was heralded and the gate to Helheim opened for her. A hound barked his greeting and pestered her horse. "I return," she said to the faithful dog. "Guard the gate."
The moment she passed over the threshold, the woman breathed to life with a large breath and looked up at her. "Am I dead?"
"Welcome to my hall."
"Are you death?"
The knowledge was so poor in these times, the human didn't even know her name, but they knew her, they felt her and they feared her.
"I am the Goddess Hel and this is my hall. Here you will dwell."
By instinct, Hel knew the woman's heart and she was not a bad woman. Loved her family and would cry tears missing them, but she would also find her kin here in Hel's hall. There was nowhere else for the dead to go, no matter how they died. Strong and weak, good and evil, they all came here—although some were taken down in the lake by Nidhogg, the serpent that dwelled in the lake.
The mists of home surrounded her as she dismounted, shadows shifting out of the corner of her eye. The woman looked around with frightened eyes. They all feared, even the strongest man or the most innocent child. Humans feared. It was their character and their lot.
Darkness covered the sky above her and icy winds snaked through the air. The dark skies above them shifted colors, at times reflecting reds from the fires in the long distance and icy snow blowing in from the cold further down where the frost giants used to dwell.
Figures skulked in the distance as they always did. They stayed clear of her, because she wanted them to. But as with Midgard, there were few of them here too. Not like in the olden days where she would have fields of the dead, practicing for the upcoming war. Now they were gone. Wiped away like everything else. The world was quiet. No one was out there causing mischief. It almost felt as though the whole world was hers.
With slow steps, she walked to the edge of the black lake and placed the woman down. "Go in the water," she said. "My child must greet you. Then you can join whatever kin you have here."
The woman blinked and then looked a little reassured. They cared for and longed for their kin, the humans. They would endure anything to be reunited. It was something she admired about them. The humans were both simple and complex creatures. They feared pain, then wanted each other—or hated. Old feuds followed them here at times, cutting and slashing each other. But it meant little here.
Slowly, the woman took steps into the water. It was cold and she froze. "You will not feel the cold soon," Hel told her and the woman nodded, her teeth hacking with the iciness of the water.
It was necessary to hold them in place for this part. Their instincts made them fight.
Looking around, Hel searched the horizon, as did the woman standing up to her waist in the water, her gray hair falling around her shoulders. Fear had returned to her eyes. This was only momentary, but she feared it nonetheless. There were worse things to fear—much worse.
Eventually a ripple in the water showed, coming closer. The woman fought, but magic held her in place. "Please," she exclaimed. "Please no."
"This is necessary," Hel replied, feeling nothing for the woman. She never did. Nothing the humans did affected her in the slightest. This woman, and everyone before her, was simply a chore and a duty.
Screams were absorbed by the mist and shadows as the bite came with a violent clasp around the woman's middle. Why did they have to be so noisy? And why bother with the pleading? What else could possibly happen? This was the way of things, always had been and always would be.
The woman paled as the blood was drawn from her, her eyes and skin turning white, giving her the gaunt expression of a corpse. Hel quite liked them th
at way, felt they were beautiful. She liked the half of her that looked the same, white hair and skin devoid of life. Some stared at her with horror, wanting only to see her beautiful side with its rosy skin and dark hair. Not the grey, mottled skin and white eye. The absence of life was beautiful, but not everyone saw that.
Being released the woman waded out of the water, pale as moonlight and frail as death.
"Put on these shoes and then go," Hel told her, pointing at a pair of sandals on the lake shore, having already forgotten about her—simply wanting her out of sight. Finally alone, she knelt down by the lake and reached her hand out. Glowing eyes regarded her from the water, his head finally emerging to her hand. "How are you, my love? Are you well?"
His heavy head rested in her hand. He looked well. His eyes were clear and strong, his skin was dark.
"I am sorry there are not so many. The humans are few. I cannot take more than that die from disease or age."
The creature shifted in the water, his long serpentine body slithering back and forth.
"This must tide you over for now."
With her hand, she stroked along the scales of his head, feeling the hard armor that covered every part of his body.
"The horrid squirrel hasn't been teasing you again, has he? Horrid creature. If I catch him here, I will cook him on the fire and we shall all eat well."
Pulling his head back, Nidhogg disappeared back into the black water, and with crossed arms, Hel watched him go. He wasn't the only thing in these black waters. All sorts of things were hidden down there—things everyone wanted forgotten.
Sharply, she turned back and headed to her hall. It was beautiful and golden, dressed with everything of beauty—rich carpets, golden plates and beautiful stone. Icy sleet swirled in through the dark windows throughout the large space and at the edges, shadows dwelled, making it seem like the walls moved.
The hall itself shifted and deceived, never quite revealing where it began and ended. Her table was laden with anything she would want and Ganglot stood by with a carafe of wine.
"How fares Midgard?" Ganglot asked, her ragged clothes hanging off her bony body.
"It is depleted," Hel said as she picked from the bounty on her table. Away from her, the shadows shifted. She could hear the murmur of their talk, although they never spoke to her—as she had decreed. No one wanted her displeasure, and she understood why. She was not a pleasant woman when angered.
Taking her glass of wine, she sipped it. "Where is Balder?"
"He still sleeps. Shall I wake him?"
"No, let him sleep. I will join him shortly."
With a deep breath, she moved over to her throne and sat down. Fine furs softened the stone structure, carved by the most gifted artists. She liked nice things, but there was no one bringing her gifts these days, trying to curry her favour. In fact, the humans were utterly ignorant and bewildered. Maybe it was time to teach them who they needed to respect. For a long time, she simply ignored them, quite happy in the quiet isolation of her hall. Was it worth changing anything?
Chapter 3
STRETCHING LANGUIDLY, BALDER felt the soft pelts beneath him. They kept him warm in the iciness of Hel's hall. Fine curtains swayed in the air, but all was quiet. Fire burned in a brazier on each side of the bed. It was for him rather than her. The cold never bothered her.
He missed her—missed her deep in his bones. When she left, he never felt whole, as if ants were crawling over his skin, a feeling only alleviated when she returned.
Rising from his bed, he wrapped a soft wool blanket around him and stepped away from the bed. The cold stung his bare chest, but he was used to it. A bowl of fruit sat on a golden plate, shiny and colorful.
Technically, he didn't need to eat, but he savored the flavor. It was one of the pleasures to be had, but it paled in comparison to his pale and beautiful goddess. Even now, he itched to run his hands along her skin. Discomfort rose up his spine again. Why wasn't she here?
For centuries he'd wanted to come with her when she left, but she never let him. When she was gone, he slept, because it hurt too much to be without her. He couldn't breathe properly.
Walking to the edge of the bedchamber, he looked out at the dark skies, with their motley red and purple hues. He could not even remember what the sun looked like. In truth, he had no idea how long he had been here, living in Helheim. He could barely remember coming here. Had awoken at the gate with a great breath and there she had been—his beautiful Hel.
They had made love when the worst of Ragnarok had rumbled on, locked away in her bedchamber. The whole of Helheim had been emptied of its inhabitants and it had only been the two of them here, and so it had stayed for a long time—past the noise and fighting in the distance, the fire that roared and the flood that then claimed everything.
Balder hadn't cared. They'd had everything they'd needed. All he ever needed was her. She was both the sun and the moon, and everything in between.
Clenching his fists, he waited, returning to the bed to sit down. His blond hair slipped down as his head leaned forward, just waiting.
A noise drew his attention and hope flared in his chest. Looking over, he saw her enter the large door that led into the bedchamber so large it's edges disappeared into shadow. The roof was tall, but he never really saw the mosaics up there, or what they depicted, but he knew there was one of him and her. Hel had ordered it created for them, looking down on them as they made love on the bed.
Standing, the hard surface of his shoes kept the worst of the cold from his feet. These shoes kept him there, kept all of them there, but he didn't need to be kept. Where would he go? If he couldn't go with her, there was nowhere he wanted to be.
"My love," she said as she came forward, her gown floating behind her. She never made a sound when she moved, her hair hanging long down the sides of her face, on the right brown, on the left white.
"I missed you," he said, moving forward to her. He needed to touch her, to feel her.
"I brought you wine," she replied, holding up a golden cup in one hand, the carafe in the other.
Gratefully, he accepted the wine and drank deeply. But wine would never quench his thirst, or his hunger, only she could do that.
"Were you successful?"
"Yes," she said. "Nidhogg is fed."
"Good."
"This one wasn’t much of a fighter."
"No one would ever challenge you, my glorious love."
Moving into his arms, she let him embrace her, and her hand traveled down his bare skin and into the blanket around his hips where she cupped his strengthening member, then sighed. He contented her, but she pulled away and walked over to the bowl filled with fruit.
"The humans are moving out of the snow to the south. They are creating towns again." A worried look marred her features and he hated it when she worried.
"Is that bad?"
"Perhaps not. They need to replenish, but I don't know what has brought this change. Something is changing, but I don't know what."
"Have you spoken to the Norns?"
"They speak only in riddles."
Hel's dislike of the Norns, the wise women who dwelled at the Well of Urd, had only increased as time had gone by. They were rarely helpful and they aggravated his beautiful goddess.
"Whatever it is," she said, sitting down in a finely carved chair, "it will reveal itself." She held his hand and he stepped closer, his body growing heated with her closeness.
"Come to bed," he said and she smiled up at him.
"I will soon enough. Drink some more of your wine."
The carafe was now sitting on the table and he let go of her hand and refilled the cup. Everything was fine now that she was back and in his presence. His discomfort had lessened and he could breathe deeply.
Shadows drifted across the windows and Balder looked over. It worried him that things were changing. He didn't want things to change or threaten to interfere with their happiness. Yet something was sparking in the back of his mind,
trying to come to the surface, but he couldn't quite grasp it. Didn't even want to grasp it, but instinctively he knew it was badness—it would ruin things and the thought it spread deep panic through him.
"Have another cup, my love," she said and came to pour another glass of wine into his cup, and he drank.
Turning his attention back to her, he looked at her. Pleasure soaked through his mind as he regarded her face. His Hel. Half her face was death, the other life. Although she called Nidhogg her child, she could not give life to a child with her body, as much as he wished it. She was the goddess of death. Giving life wasn't in her and Balder had never regretted anything as much.
"Did you miss me?" she said softly, her lips moving slowly.
"With every part of me," he replied. "I am a shadow of myself when you are not here."
"It is only you and me," she said. "Nothing else exists. My beautiful Balder."
A frown marred his brow. The idea of change coming was worrisome. "Perhaps you should speak to the Norns. Maybe there is something we need to worry about. Some threat."
"Nothing will ever threaten us. We are too strong."
Again Balder walked over to the edge of the hall where the shadows cleared and he could again look out the window, trying to see some threat in the distance. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
Hands circled around his waist as she appeared behind him. Pleasure flowed through him as her hands roamed his chest and her body pressed into his back.
"There is nothing we cannot defeat," she said, but he could hear an edge of uncertainty in her voice. Her army was not strong. Not like it had been. They had not enough of the dead to fight for them if necessary. Other means would have to be used to keep them safe.
If the Norns would not help, perhaps Hel could divine the threat. She was skilled with magic—skilled with herbs and potions.
Her hand swept down his sides and he shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. This was what he wanted most—her, being with her. She was a generous lover.
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