by Joan Holub
Finally Skade and Njord arrived at a gate guarded by a terrifyingly huge dog who snarled and barked ferociously upon seeing them. After swishing to a stop, they stood before the gate, breathing hard from their exertions, and eyed him.
Despite the trials that were surely still to come, a thrill filled Skade. She’d done it! She’d found the confidence within to conquer the horrible Helrun! She could hardly wait to tell Angerboda. If they ever managed to get back to Jotunheim, that was.
“This…must be…Helheim,” Njord said between tired, huff-puff breaths. “It looks…like the carving of that world…on the door of our Norse History class. Phew! It’s hot down here.”
“Yeah, and stinky,” added Skade, wrinkling her nose. Noticing a strange glow, she peered through the iron bars of the gate. She elbowed Njord and pointed. “There’s Balder!”
Their friend sat some distance away upon a small throne. Relief filled her that he didn’t appear sick or dead, as she had feared. This world was so dark and gloomy that the pale glow of his skin made him look sort of like a boy-shaped lamp. A lamp that was reading aloud to a crowd of hundreds of evil dead that sat around him, entranced by the story.
A large book made of thin sheets of tree bark lay open upon his lap. The boots on his feet were way too big for him, probably borrowed from some other Helheim dweller to fit his swollen mistle-toe. Too bad he wasn’t wearing his antler beanie. It might’ve protected him from harm. Then she noticed that someone else was wearing it. Hel!
Beanie atop her long gray hair, she sat beside Balder on a huge throne built of animal bones (yikes), happily listening to Balder as she crocheted something. Both thrones were perched upon a single raised platform, behind which rose a high, dark, craggy rock wall. Every now and then she or one of the crowd around Balder would cackle, as if something he read aloud amused them.
“With all those evil characters in there, it’ll be dangerous to enter,” Skade murmured to Njord as they stood outside the iron-barred gate.
“And almost impossible to leave again, unless Hel allows it,” he agreed. Mr. Sturluson had taught them that.
Skade straightened. She was no scaredy-rabbit, no matter what Skrymir liked to think. They’d come here to rescue Balder. They had to at least try! She pushed through the unlocked gate, but then paused mid-step when the guard dog strained at his leash, barking and snarling.
“Down, Garm! Good boy,” Hel called to the dog. At this, he rolled over onto his back. His tongue hung out and his mouth spread into a silly (but evil-looking) grin.
Skade and Njord made their way closer to the thrones, but Balder continued to read without looking up from his book. “Probably under an enchantment,” Skade whispered to Njord.
Hel noticed them, though. She tossed aside her crochet project and glared down her long, pointed nose at them. “Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded.
“We are the girlgoddess Skade and boygod Njord, students from Odin’s academy in Asgard,” Skade announced.
“We’ve come for Balder,” Njord added.
“Balder? Who’s he?” Hel bluffed.
“You know who he is,” said Skade, pointing. “He’s sitting right next to you.”
Hel grinned, displaying green teeth. “Ha! Got me! I had a feeling his dreamy, kind voice would have a calming effect on these hooligans I watch over here in Helheim. And I was right. Usually, they’re running around making trouble. But see how calm they are?”
“Dreamy?” Skade echoed. A new thought struck her. “Did you plant all those giant nightmares in Balder’s head? The ones he got just before we came to Jotunheim for the ski competition?”
Hel shrugged. “I won’t deny it. I used the confusion at Jotunheim to my advantage. I wove his dreams to make him sleepwalk here. And here he’ll stay.”
“So you brought Balder to Helheim to be their…stand-in babysitter?” asked Njord, pointing toward the evil dead. “That’s so selfish!”
“Everyone in all the worlds likes Balder,” said Skade. “You can’t keep him down here where no one else can ever see him,” she insisted.
“Oh, I can do exactly that. This is my world. I decide the fate of all those who enter my realm. Including you two,” said Hel. Her eyes gleamed with power.
Fear shot through Skade.
“But poor Balder. He’ll be so bored,” Njord began.
Hel straightened, her face flushing with anger. “Are you saying my world and I are boring?”
“No, of course not,” Skade said quickly. “We don’t even know you or your realm, really. Tell us, please, what can we do to get you to release Balder to us, return his antler beanie, and give us all safe passage from this world? We’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” Hel’s gray eyes sparkled in the gloom. “Very well. On the strength of your offer I will agree to release Balder and also both of you.”
Skade clasped her palms together. “Oh! Thank you so much, we—”
Hel held up her hand to stop her from going on. “On one condition.”
Uh-oh, thought Skade. She had a feeling that condition wouldn’t be an easy one.
Hel sat forward on her throne, squinting at them through the gloom. “If Balder is as precious as you say, then he must be beloved by all things living and dead. And none would be happy about his poor swollen toe, right? So if you can get one thing living and one thing dead to cry for him in the next five minutes, I’ll release him. However, if you can’t, he must remain here in Helheim. And the two of you must stay as well. Forever. Deal?”
Skade and Njord looked at each other. They really had no choice but to agree. With a deep, worried sigh, both of them replied, “Deal.”
Smiling, Hel sat back in her throne. “Your five minutes begin…now.”
Skade and Njord bent close to talk in private. “How are we going to do this? I mean, getting a living thing to cry isn’t that hard. I can cry,” Skade whispered. “But how can we make something that’s dead weep?”
“Go ahead and start your crying while I think on how to make somebody in that crowd of dead weep.” Njord nodded toward the evil group listening to Balder read.
“Okay, I’ll think sad thoughts. Here goes,” said Skade.
Closing her eyes, she thought of the day she’d gotten the invitation from Odin informing her that she was being summoned to a new school called Asgard Academy. She’d been very sad to leave her old friends and also worried about making new ones. In fact, she might’ve actually wept that day. (Not like a crybaby or anything, she decided quickly.) Unfortunately, this once-sad thought didn’t bring tears now. Why? Because she had grown to love AA and the new friends she’d made there!
Now what? She tried imagining a giant snow beast gobbling all thirteen pairs of her boots, which she’d carefully picked out and purchased. Although that thought was unhappy, it occurred to her that getting to buy new replacement boots would be fun. Nope, no tears came over that, either. Argh!
She gazed around Helheim. It was gloomy and sad. None of her new podmate friends were here. She forced herself to think about the possibility that she, Njord, and Balder might be stuck here forever if they weren’t able to meet Hel’s condition for Balder’s release. After a minute, nine tears rolled down each of her cheeks. Success!
Noting her tears, Hel remarked, “Whatever. So you made yourself—something living—cry. Big whoop. Now for the hard part. Make something not-living cry.”
Skade brushed her tears away, smiling hopefully at Njord. His eyes were fixed on the group of evil dead. As she watched, he poked and prodded one after another of them, as if that might produce tears. But nothing happened. Maybe, being dead and all, they couldn’t feel pain. Or maybe they were too enchanted by Balder’s story to notice anything else. Whatever. Time was nearly up.
“Try making something else that’s not alive cry instead of those evil dead guys,” Skade suggested. “After all, you’re boygod of the sea.”
“So?” he said, sounding stressed.
“So…tea
rs…seas…waterfalls, it’s all the same stuff really,” she whispered encouragingly. “Just salt water. You’re good at bringing that forth.”
“You’re right,” he said, seeming to relax. Looking beyond her, he fixed a determined gaze on the wall of rock beyond Hel’s and Balder’s thrones. He stared hard at the wall, as if willing something to happen. For a long moment, nothing changed. Then, ever so slowly, salt water began to seep out of the rock. More and more fell until it became a waterfall. Soon a small moat formed around the raised area upon which the two thrones were perched. Noticing it, the evil dead stopped attending to Balder’s story. They jumped into the moat and began frolicking and swimming.
Grinning with glee, Skade and Njord high-fived each other. “We did it!”
To their surprise, Hel clapped her hands in delight. “You made me a waterfall! And a swimming pool, both with cool water? Perfect! It’s so hot down here, that’s half the reason the evil dead are so unhappy. Now I can keep them in line by rewarding them with a swim if they behave.”
Humph. Would it hurt her to say thank you? Skade thought. Hoping to teach Hel a bit of politeness, she prompted. “That was nice of Njord, don’t you think? So what do you say?”
“I say, ‘You win.’ Goodbye. And I’m keeping the beanie,” said Hel. Getting up from her throne, she grabbed Balder and tossed him over the moat to Skade and Njord. Fortunately they caught him and set him on his somewhat unsteady feet.
“Huh? Where am I?” he murmured as Hel waved them all away. Together, Skade and Njord explained what had happened as they helped Balder hobble back through Helheim’s gate.
Once outside, they were surprised to see Freya’s kittycart swooping in a circle overhead. “I heard Balder had been kidnapped, and my jewel Brising told me where to find you,” she shouted down to them. Swiftly she landed nearby and waited for them.
After Skade, Njord, and Balder were safely in the cart, Freya called to her magical gray tabby cats. “Fly, kitty, kitty!” Her long, glittery pale-blond hair had come loose from her braids and fanned out behind her as she flew with them toward Jotunheim to grab their belongings before returning home to Asgard.
“The second and third competitions were canceled due to all the trouble during the first one,” Freya informed them as they flew. “So everyone has begun to return to their own worlds.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Skade. “Odin had such high hopes for the games’ potential to improve relations between the worlds. Failed hopes, I guess.”
Freya flicked her a glance. “That’s not all. The news gets worse. Maybe much worse. Some weirdly familiar things have begun happening, have you noticed? Things that could mean the beginning of Ragnarok.”
Skade and the two boys gasped. The coming of Ragnarok would mean the end of Yggdrasil. All nine worlds would be destroyed. It was too horrible to imagine!
“Like for instance,” Freya went on, “we know that Ragnarok will take place in winter.”
“Check. It’s already winter,” said Balder, who seemed more or less back to normal now, except for his still-swollen toe.
One by one, they continued checking off the list of events that they’d all been taught would lead up to that terrible end of all the worlds.
“There will be a great fire. Check. Not only did that fire giant’s sword melt the snow, but the forest on one side of the run also burned to the ground, remember?” said Njord.
Freya nodded. “Mighty Yggdrasil will shudder and quake. Check. We felt its limbs shudder when that water avalanche started.”
“A great serpent will be unleashed. Check. Ratatosk told me today that Nidhogg had suddenly decided to race him up to the top of Yggdrasil,” announced Skade.
“There will be monsters. Check. The snow beasts could count as monsters,” Njord said.
“Hel, down in Helheim, too,” suggested Balder.
They were closing in on Jotunheim now. Up ahead, Skade could see the twin igloos and the red, blue, and white flags that marked the area of the ski games. “The only two things left to cause Ragnarok to begin are for the alarm in the Valhallateria to sound five hundred and forty blasts,” she mused. “And then roosters would have to crow.”
“Phew,” said Balder. “I haven’t heard any alarms or any crowing.” His words were barely out of his mouth, however, when short, sharp blasts—too many and too fast to count—began to sound rapidly. “Ymir’s ears! I spoke too soon,” Balder wailed. Even though the Valhallateria was quite far away, its alarm had been specially designed to be heard in all nine worlds. “If roosters crow next, we are doomed!” moaned Balder.
Skade glanced at the horizon where the first fingers of sunset pink were curling. “Roosters normally crow in the mornings. So these would have to be roosters that crow at nightfall for some reason. Ragnarok could still be prevented if we can find and stop them in time.”
“Oh no!” said Njord. When everyone turned his way, he pointed toward the ground below them under the flags. “See that red cage? The one near the starting line of Chilly Willy? Skrymir told me that the fire giants brought it as a gift that would somehow signal the end of the games today. And look!”
As they watched, all on its own, the cage door began to magically open. From overhead, they could see three roosters snuggled upon the straw within the cage. At the sound of the door creaking open, the roosters woke. They hopped out. Their beaks parted, and…
“They’re going to crow!” yelped Balder.
“We have to stop them!” cried Skade, shouting to be heard over the ongoing alarm.
“Whoa, kitty, kitty!” Freya called. Her two tabby cats banked against the wind to slow their flight. They landed below the tall flags. Claws out, the cats skidded to a halt right in front of the cage and the roosters.
“No crowing!” Skade, Freya, Njord, and Balder yelled, rushing toward them and wildly waving their arms.
Surprised, the roosters squawked. But they did not crow! Instead, in a flap of feathers, they did a series of hops and then flew off in different directions to roost in the branches of nearby fir trees.
Instantly the alarm went silent. Skade high-fived Freya. “Your cats helped us scare the crow out of those roosters. Their cock-a-doodle-doos stayed cock-a-doodle-don’ts. We saved the worlds!”
“Good job, silfrkatter,” Freya said, using a term that meant “silver cats.” She gave them pets and kisses.
Meow! Meow!
13 Confi-dance
BACK AT ASGARD ACADEMY, THE school dance was about to begin. Freya’s cart touched down just in time for Skade, Freya, Njord, and Balder to join their teammates in going. (The rest of their team had returned earlier via the system of slides that took them up to the Heartwood Library.) It had been a long day, and everyone was tired.
But when they entered the Valhallateria and were greeted with cheers, music, and snacks, their spirits lightened and they became eager for fun. Fellow students had pushed the tables and chairs against the walls and decorated for the event. Suspended by magic, hundreds of silver snowflakes sparkled and twirled beneath the ceiling. The sculpted warriors in the paintings that covered the walls even wore party hats. There was apple spice cake, apple juice, and lots more to snack on.
Ratatosk and his message acorns had done their work. Everyone at school already knew what had gone on in Jotunheim and Helheim. They gathered around to hug their beloved Balder, happy that he was okay.
Even though the games had been canceled, students seemed extra excited to celebrate the fact that the Asgard team had scored highest overall in the Chilly Willy obstacle course event, despite Skrymir’s trickery. And that Skade had aced the tryouts for the aerial ski tricks competition, even if she and Njord had never gotten to perform together as partners. And, of course, everyone was grateful that Ragnarok had been avoided, at least for now.
Best of all was Odin and Ms. Frigg’s pride in the team. They made an appearance in the Valhallateria soon after the AA team arrived and congratulated each member individually in fro
nt of the whole school.
“We’re sorry all the worlds didn’t get along as well at the games as you’d hoped,” Skade told the coprincipals afterward.
“Small steps,” said Odin, appearing more pleased than she’d expected. “Your team did your best in a difficult situation. You extended the hand of friendship to the other worlds. It could be the start of something good. I have a feeling there will be fun food fights in the cafeterias of at least some of those far-flung worlds in the future.”
At this, they all laughed.
“I think the Jotunheim competition was a good plan, even though it didn’t work out perfectly. Maybe we could try again sometime?” Angerboda put in, surprising everyone with her upbeat suggestion.
“Good idea,” voices called out from the crowd.
“I’m thinking we should split the teams up differently next time, though,” said Thor. “Mix things up a little.”
“Great idea!” Skade seconded. “There could still be nine teams. But the members of each team would come from different worlds. That way, while skiing together, everyone on a team can learn more about one another’s school and world.”
The usually grumpy Angerboda looked pleased at their support and suggestions. For the first time, hope filled Skade that someday they might actually become more friendly. Maybe things could change for the better among the worlds. Maybe they already were.
Odin and Ms. Frigg looked at each other. Apparently thinking the same thing, they smiled big. Then they proclaimed the students’ ideas to be “perfect!”
“But for now, there’s food…and dancing,” Odin announced in his powerful voice. He motioned toward the ceramic goat fountain and the snack-laden tables near it. With his other hand he gestured toward Bragi and Fossegrim, who were seated nearby. Bragi immediately began to strum his lute, and Fossegrim took up his fiddle.
“Everyone, enjoy!” Odin and Ms. Frigg finished together as the music began.
Dancing? Uh-oh. Skade looked toward the exit door. But before she could seriously consider sneaking out, her friends dragged her with them onto the dance floor. There weren’t any boys out there—not yet, anyway—but lots of girls seemed to be having fun together. And suddenly Skade didn’t want to miss out.
