Balder

by Camille Oster

  "In the depths of the waters, I had to face some hard facts about my relationship with Hel."

  They were walking down one of the village streets, meandering toward the meadow she went whenever she wished to think. "Such as?"

  "Firstly, that I do have a relationship with Hel."

  Rolling her eyes, Nanna didn't want to speak about Hel. As much as she was trying to lay the past to rest, she still didn't like the woman. Not exactly the kind of person one would want in one's life, but perhaps it was true that Balder's relationship with her was more involved than hers—considering they had been lovers for centuries.

  "I have perhaps assigned more blame to her than I should have, and less blame to myself."

  This was not news to Nanna. It was something she'd known from the start.

  "I need to take responsibility for that. I know I have apologized to you a number of times, but that apology didn't come with the right fundamentals."

  "What fundamentals?"

  "That I do care for Hel."

  For a moment, Nanna didn't know what to say. He shouldn't care for Hel—she didn't deserve it. Not the kind of person one should be involved with.

  Balder continued. "I have fought this," he said. "I have failed."

  "You have lain with her."

  "Yes," he admitted. It both surprised her and didn't. Even as he had declared his intention of winning her heart, he had lain with Hel. Not that she'd wanted a reunion between them. That was also something that had solidified while he had gone off on his quest. While wishing him a safe return, she did not worry for him like a wife would—like Lily did for Vali whenever he left Midgard.

  But Hel, it was difficult to see that as anything other than an insult considering their past. But beside her distaste for Hel, did she truly care?

  "And what do you wish to do with that?" she finally asked.

  "I don't know. I should stop blaming Hel for everything. In great part blaming her for being what she is."

  It could be said that Nanna did the same, blaming Hel for her numerous and varied shortcomings. Unlike Balder, Nanna felt no need to stop.

  "But even as you have said I shouldn't, I feel responsibility to you as well." He felt responsibility toward Hel now? It hurt Nanna's mind to think about. In fact, she didn't want to think about the past at all, much rather preferring to think about Axel and the villagers. That was where her future lay, she'd determined.

  "You have no responsibility to me," she repeated. "I might even be a wife again, but it will not be yours."

  Balder stopped. "You are still angry with me."

  "No, I'm actually not. But I cannot go back. If you wish to be with Hel, you have my blessing."

  "I don't…" he started, but couldn't finish. He didn't know what he wanted, or couldn't admit what he wanted. Typical man. "I have simply forgiven her for all things that have been. You should too."

  It was none of her affair, and she had nothing to gain from forgiving Hel. The woman wasn't someone Nanna thought about, so perhaps she had forgiven her in a way. There would never be any love lost between them, though. "Do as you wish, Balder."

  "I do not want there to be ill feelings between us."

  "There is not. I only wish to focus on myself for now, on this village and the life that is here. I enjoy being human again. I do not look back unfavorably on the life we had, or the death, I suppose, but I do not wish to continue either. I wish you all the best, even if your future is with Hel."

  He went to argue for a moment, but she didn't care what he had or hadn't accepted. If he wished to punish himself by continuing a relationship with Hel, that was his business.

  "You have my blessing," she finished. "But I do not wish to hear of it."

  "Perhaps some day, you will agree to come see Hoder. Not yet. It will take some time for him to embrace visitors."

  The statement told her much about how Hoder fared, but he had never been as glad to meet people as Balder had been. For her, she had so often wished she had been left where she had been, but it was likely it was a different story for Hoder, if the tales of Nastrond were true. Nanna shuddered at the thought. Poor Hoder. Pain and despair had been his constant companions all this time. Balder really had fared the best out of all of them, cradled in the soft magic that had lulled his mind and body. Perhaps that artifice of love had lasted when whatever they'd had between them hadn't.

  "Go now," she said, feeling exhausted from having to deal with him. For a moment, she watched him go before turning her gaze toward the forge where Axel worked. Immediately her mood lightened. Everything was simple with Axel. Just a man with the flushes and awkwardness of curiosity and interest. It was sweet and beautiful, and so very human. That was what she wanted now, a human life with a human man. A short life perhaps, but fulfilling.

  Chapter 30

  THE COTTAGE THEY WERE using in the village was simple and basic. The inhabitants of the village Balder didn't even know the name of had handed it over in a mix of terrified awe. Who knew what they feared would happen if they hadn't. They spoke differently from Lily's tribe. Dressed differently too. They liked red, it seemed. The women wore red skirts, while the men all had red vests. Clearly, they were trying to be accommodating.

  Balder would build a hall. Perhaps not in the village. Vali hadn't intended to either, it was simply that a village had congregated around him. The hill in the distance was a good spot. It would have a view over the land. Perhaps later, he would go there and make a start.

  Hoder struggled with the busyness of Midgard, having shut himself away in a dark room. All of Midgard's activities and sounds were too much for him after his existence in Nastrond. Even the light was an assault on him, even with his blindness. His exhaustion was complete and Balder understood that he needed time and space to recuperate.

  It was still difficult to look at that old man and see his brother. Age did not suit him, or was it simply that Balder found it distressing to see him so worn. The misery of Nastrond had not allowed his mind to disintegrate. Caution and vigilance against Nidhogg had been constantly necessary down there. That didn't mean there weren’t repercussions for Hoder. It might take him years to recover, but it had to be a good thing to be out of there.

  What Balder could do was to reverse the age his brother suffered with. It would mean finding the Apples of Idunn, which he and Vali had meant to do anyway. This only created a more pressing need. The problem was that Idunn had always guarded the location of her apples so to shield them from anyone who wished to take the god's youth and vitality. If they were in Asgard, they would be burned to a crisp and they would all suffer for it. Lily would grow old and die, as would they, at a much slower pace. Hoder would grow increasingly decrepit, his mind slowly ceasing. It would be a cruel blow if those apple trees were utterly destroyed.

  Returning to the cottage, he softly knocked on the door to Hoder's room. There was no reply and Balder wondered if Hoder was asleep as he stared at the rough wood of the door. These cottages had been built quickly as the tribe had recently transplanted themselves here in the warmer climes from up north.

  "Yes," Hoder finally croaked and Balder opened the door to darkness. Only the merest light shone around the coverings over the window. The lump on the cot didn't move.

  Walking in, Balder sat on a chair, it creaking with his weight. It probably sounded loud to Hoder, whose sense of hearing had always been beyond anyone else's.

  "Do you know where Idunn had her apple trees?" he asked.

  Hoder didn't move for a long time. Was that because he didn't know or because it was difficult to talk. It was imperative to relieve him of the trials of age worsening everything else he had to deal with.

  "Vanir, I think," he finally said. "She refused to say, but they had a smell that wasn't Asgard." This was something that no one else would probably observe. "She was of the Vanir."

  "Yes, she was," Balder agreed absently. "It does make sense then that her apples are there."

  "Perhaps," Hoder said vag
uely, so Balder didn't know if he was too exhausted to speak further or if he simply wasn't convinced.

  There was no one to ask. "Perhaps I shall have to go there and look." It was on very rare occasions that Balder had visited Vanaheim. For a long time, it had been the land of the enemy, until they had made truce. Even so, there was still a division between Asgard and Vanaheim. Even with the truce, the Vanir were annoying, always thinking well of themselves.

  While they had searched Asgard, they had not searched Vanir, assuming it would be as burnt as everything else.

  "I will go and see how Vanir is," Balder said. Luckily, Vali had not insisted on the return of Thor's chariot just yet and it should carry him to Vanaheim. "There I might find Idunn's orchard."

  A darkness clamped his heart as he couldn't bring himself to truly believe that the orchard had survived what had destroyed everything else. But then Midgard had risen from the sea and become fruitful again. Perhaps those youth-giving apples had too.

  "Are you sure that is the direction you want to go, not south?"

  Hel stole into his mind forcefully. "It is not the place for me right now." Yes, he wanted to go to her. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to do so. A good week's travel, perhaps less with the chariot. He could not cross between Midgard and Helheim through the Gjoll river as she did. It was the crossing of the dead, not of gods. So there was no easy way for him to cross. Being with Hel meant he could not come and go easily, and right now, he was needed here, even if in his heart, he needed to settle things with her.

  Finding the apples were of higher importance than his unresolved feelings for his former captor. That wasn't the right term, but he didn't know what term he should use. That was something to be settled too.

  Saying his goodbye, he harnessed the chariot and rode. In a way, he wished he could do this with Vali, but they were still at odds over Hoder's return, and Vali would not be eager to help with a quest to return his youth and wellbeing. With a sigh, Balder rode out of the village. Discord was not something he enjoyed, but there was no pleasing everyone in this. And at this moment, Hoder needed him the most.

  The plunge into the river was cool and quick, emerging him by the broken Bifrost. This meant the chariot was the only way they could cross. At some point, they would have to work out how to repair the Bifrost, even if they now had no idea how such a task could be done.

  Instead of heading across the vast darkness to Asgard, as he had done before, he headed west. Vanaheim couldn't even be seen in the distance as he headed into the darkness. If he fell, he would be lost for all time. It was that comfort that the Bifrost had given. Now it was only the chariot that guarded him, a much riskier way to travel. Who knew what obstacles and hindrances were hidden in the dark. Still, this had to be done.

  After endless hours of traveling, Vanaheim was within sight. It did not shine like a jewel in the darkness like it had used to do. It was certainly not unscathed. That much he could tell before he even reached it.

  Char met him. The structures were all burnt, standing like jagged, exposed ribs of a decomposing beast. The ground was covered in ash like Asgard was. There was nothing growing garden here. Nothing grew. If Idunn's orchard had been here, it had not revived.

  Perhaps if they removed the ash, the land would revive. It would be a mountainous task, though.

  As he wandered, his heart sunk more and more. There was nothing here—certainly no apples. Wiping the ash off a protrusion, he sat down on a rock, trying to contemplate their futures without Idunn's apples. Nanna would grow old and die. As would Lily. Vali would be devastated. He himself would age, eventually looking like Hoder did. His vanity was displeased with the idea.

  In the distance, he saw a ridge of darkness along the ash and he rose to explore. Footsteps. Had he wandered this way, walked in circles? He couldn't recall coming this way.

  Pressing his foot down next to the closest footstep, he saw that it had not come from his boot. This was someone else's. Someone had walked here. Vali had said nothing about coming here, and it wasn't Hel's sleek footstep. This was someone else.

  "Hello?" he called and listened until his ears rung with the silence. He called again, wandered and called, but nothing came back to him. Whoever this was, they were not here now.

  Suddenly, he itched to tell Vali that he had found proof that, as they had expected, there was someone else. Someone who had come to Vanaheim. Had there been footsteps in Asgard too? It was now too trampled after several missions to collect weapons and the chariot. Vali had not said anything about footsteps. Surely he would have noticed. If that was the case, it suggested that this person had come to see Vanaheim as opposed to Asgard, and that would mean a Vanir god.

  Balder itched to return to tell of this discovery. There was someone else, but they were not dwelling in Vanaheim or Asgard. That left quite a few places they could be. With the dwarfs, perhaps. No Vanir would want to live down with the frost giants, would instead choose to live in Midgard. Perhaps they needed to search Midgard more, but a hidden god was hard to find if they didn't want to be found.

  There was also an urge to tell Hel, but that was not to be right now.

  Chapter 31

  HODER WAS ASLEEP WHEN Balder returned, so he had to sit with his new knowledge by himself for a while. They weren't alone, but they were as disparate as they could be. Nanna wanted little if anything to do with him, Vali wanted nothing to do with Hoder, and Hel… Hel was still as prickly as she always was.

  "You return," Hoder croaked softly. His throat was not used to speaking and the exertion of his release from Nastrond had overused it. It was barely a hoarse whisper now.

  "I found footsteps in Vanaheim—proof that someone else walks."

  "A Vanir god?"

  "I think it is a good guess. As far as I know, Vali has not visited Vanaheim. But we don't know where this person dwells."

  "Could be anywhere," Hoder said quietly. "If they do not want to be seen, they will not be."

  "Or they simply don't know anyone else is dwelling in the world."

  "Perhaps we need to leave runes in places they could pass. The base of the Bifrost. Both Vanaheim and Asgard. The road to Helheim. By the Well of Urd."

  "Perhaps the Norns know."

  "Vali has met them, but I don't think he is eager to deal with them again."

  "No one in their right mind wishes to deal with them."

  Balder sighed deeply. "I think I must ride to Vali tomorrow to discuss this. Unfortunately, I didn't find any orchards in Vanaheim. If that was where Idunn harvested her apples from, the trees have been scorched to the ground."

  No noise of disappointment or otherwise came from Hoder. He simply lay in his cot.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "I find my stomach cannot tolerate the richness of the food, and I do not have the strength to heave it up."

  Balder wished there was something he could do to make this easier for his twin. "It will get better. You will get stronger. Perhaps I will bring you some milk to drink."

  "Constant hunger has made my stomach small. Food is foreign to it."

  Even this conversation had worn out Hoder and Balder could see him flagging. As he sat watching, Hoder slipped off into sleep, the steady breath turning into the snoring of an old man. He missed seeing his brother young and strong. Their mother had tried endlessly to find a means of restoring his sight, but nothing had ever worked. Father had been less caring, having given up his eye in exchange for wisdom. There had been no gifts for Hoder in exchange for his blindness, though—just a need to depend on others, which he'd hated even as a child, unable to take part in the rough play the other boys reveled in.

  As silently as he could, Balder left Hoder's room and sat down by the fire which gently lit the small space of the wooden cabin. At some point, he should start building his hall, but there was something stopping him, and he knew it had to do with Hel. What point was there building a hall if she would not be in it?

  Hoder needed him too much for him
to leave Midgard and it would be too distressing to ask him to live in Helheim, where Nidhogg would sooner or later try to reclaim him. He had to be kept away from the waters where Nidhogg swam. It created a dilemma Balder didn't know how to solve. There seemed no way he and Hel could be together.

  If he could, he would speak to her, but he had no way of reaching her, other than a week's ride to Helheim, but it would be out of the question to leave his brother here on his own while he was so weak. Hoder had no one but himself. Hel had four young men to distract her, even if the last thing Balder wanted was her finding comfort with pretty young men. Would it be petty to slay them? Hel would probably appreciate the statement. A blunt jealous statement would appeal to her, and Balder was embarrassed to admit that getting rid of her lovers would give him a degree of satisfaction. The truth was that he was jealous. Hel had been his for so very long, and as angry as he was with her, having her turn her attention elsewhere made his fingers itch for violence—and that wasn’t his nature.

  The problem with Hel was that she drove him to be things he wasn’t. Violence, pettiness and cruelty weren’t his traits; they were hers, and he had absorbed them.

  Again he sighed deeply. None of the people in his life were coming together and he felt himself torn in so many directions. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off to dream of times of old when they had all feasted together each night. The closeness of family ached in his heart. Hel had never been there, had never been included. She wasn't Aesir like them; she wasn't of the Vanir either, born of Loki with his more dubious heritage. It was that derision that had made Loki so bitter, and Hel so difficult, intemperate and cruel.

  An uncomfortable sleep saw him through the night, giving him images of the past turning to ash. They were alienated from their own lands and their future uncertain. He woke with a start, seeing the first fingers of dawn stretching in through the shutters over the windows.