Balder

by Camille Oster

  "She is beautiful in her own way."

  Balder snorted, but it was a snort coming from the derision he was holding onto so tightly. "She is an awful person," Balder said.

  "She was never really a kind person."

  "Self-absorbed, cruel and petty. Those are her traits."

  "And this you cannot forgive? One could say that seems petty."

  "She made me forsake my wife," Balder said harshly.

  "And that makes you unable to forgive. Then you should leave here."

  "No," Balder said, incensed that Hel was once again making him forego one of his family members. "I refuse. I will forgive her."

  "For what?"

  "For bespelling me and making me not see Nanna for all that time I was in Helheim." It hurt to admit it; it felt like admitting his own weakness. He should have been strong enough to break through her enchantments, but he wasn't. "I forgive her," he said loudly as if someone was watching. Who knew how this magic worked.

  Waving his hand, Balder urged Hoder to move forward, but an invisible barrier held him back. "It did not work."

  Balder's heart wailed in disappointment. It wasn't an impossible task to simply forgive someone, but perhaps it was deceptively difficult. Prying his hand open from his resentment wasn't enough. Saying the words wasn't enough.

  "Perhaps you need to go and come back," Hoder suggested.

  "No, I am capable of forgiving her," Balder pleaded.

  But this wasn't as easy as just saying the words, and Balder had to close his eyes and search himself, seeing Hel before him in his mind's eye. With everything he'd had, he'd pushed her out of his mind, refusing to pay any attention to her, but now he had to look. Her hair floated in the breeze in his vision, her dress the color of moonlight. There was no color about Hel. She didn't like color. Half her form was stunningly beautiful and half decayed and repulsive. Not that he found her repulsive. It hadn't bothered him. It represented her personality—dark and light. Mostly dark, he thought with a small smile. Jealous and petty, she was in most things. But she wanted love, wanted to be cherished, but she was so bad at deserving it. She did not forgive; she pushed too hard and reacted harshly when things didn't go as she wished.

  "She is neither wise, not commendable," Balder said, finally opening his eyes. "Demanding like a child and utterly incapable of acting maturely."

  "Yet you were in a relationship with her for centuries," Hoder said.

  "Yes," Balder admitted. "Because she bespelled me to be."

  "Believe me, brother, I would much rather have spent all this time being in love with Hel than spending it down here in this never-ending nightmare."

  A renewed importance to getting Hoder out gripped Balder. This had to happen. He had to forgive Hel.

  Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the stench, Balder focused on Hel again, seeing her as he did before. He pushed himself to go where he had refused to before, to examine his feelings. It was necessary to understand what it was he needed to forgive. Was it her pettiness? Her cruelty?

  Cruelty wasn't something he could ever respect, but hers was primarily related to protecting her fragile pride. The most minor infraction against her and she would react decisively and cruelly. She would hurt them before they had a chance to hurt her. And she advantaged herself without compromise. With Nanna, she had seen a rival and instead of letting that stand, Hel had refused to let him see or even think of Nanna. Truthfully, Hel would not have won that contest otherwise, and she knew it. It must be a heavy knowledge to carry, but then it had always been that way. Hel was dismissed and disparaged for what she did, for how she looked, and for her pettiness.

  All she wanted was to be loved. Centuries of knowing and being able to look past the things she said and did had revealed that to him.

  There was not a woman with more flaws and failings, but what she wanted never faltered. Her means and tools for achieving it were atrocious—perhaps because Hel never won whatever she did, no matter how hard she tried, and Balder had now joined the choirs of people telling her she didn't deserve to win.

  Looking at her again, he sighed deeply. It wasn't Hel he had issue with. It was himself. "I forgive myself for loving you," he said. A weight shifted from him. In his mind's eye, Hel stood exactly as she had been. It wasn't her he had been angry with. For all she had done to him, he wasn’t angry with her, instead with himself, because he loved her despite it, and he had not been able to bear that. It was a cruelty on his own part. He had been cruel to her because he'd felt she didn't deserve his love—had stolen his love. Because he did love her—he just hadn't been able to accept it.

  Opening his eyes, he turned away from images of Hel and drew a deep breath. Hoder stood beside him. "Oh," he said, a little surprised.

  "I cannot tell you the thousands of years it's been since I've stood out here."

  "The whole lake is above you," Balder said, wishing Hoder could see it. "We must swim through it."

  "I cannot believe I am free. I didn't think this day would come."

  In a sense, Balder felt a little the same. He'd been trapped inside his own heart, inside his own inability to forgive. And he'd been looking to Nanna to make it all better without him ever having to address it. And she'd refused. Perhaps she was the wisest out of all of them.

  "Come, brother. It will be a long swim up." And Hoder would be useless most of the way. As it was, he could barely stand with the exertion he had been through. "I will take you," Balder said. "You will like Midgard. It is pleasant. Warm summer breezes all day long."

  Chapter 28

  TWO SORRY-LOOKING WASTES washed up on Hel's shore. Clearly exhausted. The sight of Balder wet and sodden twisted her gut. The other was an ancient man, a wet lump of wrinkles and white hair. That had to be Hoder. So he had existed all this time, and now Balder had dragged him out.

  "What did you do to Nidhogg?" she demanded, kicking him in the side. They better not have hurt her Nidhogg after everything she had done to raise him. Her ire would require blood to soothe if that were the case. She had warned them. If they took her threat lightly, it was at their peril. She would take every human there was.

  "Don't worry," the wet and bedraggled Balder said. "He lives."

  Hoder was trying to crawl up on shore, his limbs shaking with effort. Hel didn't know why Balder insisted on going down there and dragging that up out of the deep. She certainly wouldn't for a brother that had dared to murder her. One had to be hard on the standards in which one insisted on being treated with. Murder would not be forgiven.

  "He wouldn't have just let you go," she stated.

  "We did insist," Balder said, finally rising. Water dripped off him, making all his clothes cling. He'd always had a wonderful body and that hadn't changed. Such a shame his personality had turned poisonous. "Care to feed us?"

  "Why should I?"

  "Because we didn't kill your precious serpent," he said.

  Turning her eyes to Hoder, she noticed his gaunt form. The man had barely eaten in centuries. A simple meal wasn't going to fix that. She snorted. "I want you gone as soon as possible."

  "It is a very long ride back to Midgard. It would be very helpful if we could enjoy the hospitality in your hall before we go."

  "Don't you think you have enjoyed enough of my hospitality?"

  "Such bitterness after I have completed such a great feat of courage and strength. They will sing songs about my deeds."

  Hel's eyebrows creased. Was he teasing her? It was part of his personality, but not something she had seen lately with his stormy accusations and pierced looks. "I am sure you are basking in the humans’ worship," she replied tartly. "Stupid mules would believe anything."

  "Is she not lovely?" Balder said, turning to Hoder and again Hel did not understand his intention. Was he laughing at her with his brother?

  "Be on your way!" she commanded and started marching back to her hall. "I have better things to do than stand around and gab with ridiculous gods."

  Behind her,
Balder led Hoder. The man's eyes were useless, she remembered. Again she wondered why he'd gone to the effort of retrieving him? Hypocritical wasn't it, considering he'd cried bloody murder with her, then forgiven his brother for his actual murder. But gods were like that, weren't they? They stuck together. It was different rules for them than everyone else. They held themselves to different standards—always had.

  Not taking heed of her wishes, Balder brought his brother into her hall. Her young men were sitting around. As trying as they sometimes were, she was glad they were there today. They made her feel less alone.

  There was no sign of Nidhogg, who would be splashing around his discontent at one of his residents escaping. "What did you do to Nidhogg?" Crossing her arms, she turned back to Balder, standing between him and her food. If he wanted her food, he would have to answer her questions.

  Hoder's blind eyes were roaming her food as if he could see. Perhaps he could smell it. Whatever nourishment Nidhogg served down in Nastrond, it had to be flavorless gruel. His eyes appeared to stop at the fragrant fruit and she could just about see his old mouth watering. Who knows why Nidhogg had kept him around for all these years?

  Conceivably, Balder would have been distraught if he'd returned emptyhanded. Truthfully, she didn't know how she would have reacted if that were the case. She had never really seen him distraught. Angry, yes. Nothing but anger of late.

  "I tied him with Fenrir's chains," Balder said.

  "He will not be able to break those."

  "No, he will not."

  "You intend to tie him forever in his hall?"

  "Frankly, I have no intentions beyond getting my brother out of his reach."

  Biting her tongue, Hel considered him. Balder had bested Nidhogg and that gave him some right to say what the creature's punishment should be. Acting against it would be acting against Balder. Not that it bothered her in the least. Nidhogg was hers and acting against him was acting against her anyway. But Balder was also saying he didn't care what happened to Nidhogg now, thereby avoiding a direct confrontation with her. Was he scared of her?

  Why was it so hard to understand his intentions? And now he teased her as though they were old friends. His moods seemed to shift to opposites in the flash of an eye.

  "Then I will release him," she said, partly to see how Balder would react.

  He shrugged. "After we are gone, you can do as you wish. Now will you let us eat?"

  "Why should I?"

  "Perhaps we can bargain for it."

  "Bargain? And what would you give?"

  "What do you want?"

  Had he received a knock to the head? Was he toying with her? "I don't want anything from you." It was the only thing she would allow herself to say—to think. Certainly not that she wanted everything that had happened to be undone and go back as they were. Would he drink her wine if she asked him to?

  Even that she couldn't bring herself to say. Was he trying to get her to admit she wanted him? She absolutely didn't, being perfectly happy with her new toys. Wasn't that perfectly clear?

  Keeping her head high, she stared him down, but he didn't avoid her eyes like he'd used to. They were openly and clearly regarding her. Something had happened down in the depths of Nastrond. Had he come close to dying and it had changed his perspective? Something about him was very different. "What is the matter with you?"

  They stood for a moment as if on a knife's edge, but then he looked away. "Just hungry." He'd just backed away from something—she didn't know what. There was something he wasn't admitting to. "Your hospitality has always been generous, and I appreciate it."

  Now that was a first—appreciation for anything she had done.

  With crossed arms, Hel considered what to say. She still didn't know what was going on, but he had complimented her, and she had waited quite some time for it. "Fine, eat. Then be on your way."

  The wizened old god didn't wait for further invitation and rushed to the table, his hands traveling frantically over the food until he picked up a juicy pear, biting into it so the juice dripped. Balder went for the ribs, slowly cooked by Ganglati—who did nothing at a fast speed. It worked well when it came to cooking meat.

  Taking a seat, she watched them for a moment, taking their fill from her table. It was going to take more than food to revive Hoder. They were going to have to find some of Idunn's apples. Hel didn't need it, being herself a perpetual state between life and death.

  "Thank you, Hel," Balder said after he'd eaten. Hoder was packing fruit away in whatever ragged pockets he had. The effort of eating had taken the last of his energy. Balder walking over, Hel stopped herself from stepping back, unsure of his intention as he came closer and closer, but he kissed her on the cheek and she awkwardly received it. Those lips she had known so well.

  That he wanted her was not in doubt. His body betrayed him, but now he was being kind to her. The confusion of it was almost too much to bear. She wanted to grab him and shake him, but equally, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the real reason why he was suddenly being kind to her. Changes in behavior were usually bad—someone whispering in their ear. Had to be Hoder. Balder reunited with Hoder and now his attitude changed radically.

  "Just go," she said, pulling away from him. He stood for a moment, then turned away toward the door.

  "I'm going to build a hall," he said brightly.

  "Of absolutely no concern to me," she replied.

  "I will show it to you."

  Again she blinked. "Perhaps you need to nurse whatever blow you've received to your head."

  "You are a part of this new world like the rest of us.”

  "My world has never changed." Except when Balder left.

  “Things could.”

  Unsure what to say, she stared at him. What trick was this? Be a part of a world with him—and his two brothers? There was nothing worse than Aesir brothers. “Spare me,” she said with a snort.

  With a tight smile, Balder considered her for a while. “You can choose a different path. We all can.”

  “Enough of this. I have guests to entertain,” she said, turning back to the young men lingering in her hall behind her.

  Hoder leaned heavily on Balder's arm as they walked out of her hall. Clenching her fingers, she stopped herself from throwing a bowl at him—simply for being so confusing. How dare he come here and kiss her on the cheek, and then not tell her what his intentions were. And what was his comment was supposed to mean about her being a part of their new world? She had never been a part of their world—why should things change now?

  Chapter 29

  BALDER RETURNED UNSCATHED from his quest, riding into the village with Vali's chariot. He was alone, which meant that his quest had been unsuccessful. Even Nanna knew he would be devastated by that. Vali would not, because there was little forgiveness in his heart for Hoder, especially as he had been born to avenge the murder.

  "You return unsuccessful," Vali said as he appeared.

  "Not so, brother. Hoder is here in Midgard, but I have not brought him. I know you wish not to see him. He is weak and he is old."

  "Where is he?" Vali asked and Nanna wondered if he wished to destroy him again. Balder would never let that happen, and it would pit brother against brother if Vali pushed it. If it came down to choice, Balder would choose Hoder. The bond between the twins was strong, even with everything that had happened between them. During her time in Asgard, she had learned not to question it when Hoder acted spitefully. It wasn't as if he'd ever been unkind to her, but Hoder had never married and it was yet another point of difference between the men, a point where Hoder had not received the gifts that Balder had.

  As with her, who knew what kind of man had been fished out of Helheim's lake? It seemed death had not preserved him like it had her and Balder if he was old and weak. She had never seen Hoder as an old man.

  "How is his mind?" she asked, remembering how broken she had been, and she had only been floating in the water. Hoder… who knew what he'd experience
d down in Nidhogg's hall. It was supposed to be the worst fate a being could face.

  "He is weak and shocked. The sunlight is cruel on his eyes. Even the heat is hard for him to bear."

  No snide remark came from Vali. It wasn't in his nature to revel in other people's suffering, even if he didn't approve of Hoder being returned. "Then what will you do with him?" Vali asked.

  "I am building a hall in a village to the east. He will live there until he is recovered. Then he can decide what he wishes to do."

  "It is nice you are reunited again," Nanna said. "It will be a comfort to you."

  "Yes," Balder said. "It hurt my heart to think of him in that place." A shudder shivered through his body. It had to be an awful place judging by his reaction. "But now he is free," he said more brightly.

  "Hel will not be happy."

  "We did not destroy the serpent, and she cares nothing for Hoder."

  "So you saw her?" Curiously, Nanna couldn't even muster discomfort at the event.

  "Yes, I saw her. Her condition was that I didn't kill Nidhogg."

  "Really? Not eternal enslavement."

  "She's not like that."

  "Yes, she is."

  Vali's discomfort was clear, and he took the silent moment to pat Balder on the back. "Well done for completing such a task. You must tell us about it tonight. It must have been a fierce battle, and yet, somehow you rescued Hoder without killing his captor. How was such a thing done?"

  "With Fenrir's chains."

  "A mighty tale, indeed. You must regale us."

  "When darkness falls, I will tell you the story."

  Accepting this, Vali walked away and Nanna was about to do the same. "May we speak?" Balder asked.

  In truth, she didn't want to. It was going to be about something uncomfortable about either her feelings or his. Neither of which she wanted to discuss. But she couldn't very well say no. To some degree, she owed it to him to listen, she supposed. It wasn't simply her readjusting to this new life. That realization had come to her when he'd been gone and there had been a good chance he would not survive. She'd had to search her feelings about it, acknowledging that she couldn't be completely uncaring, even if she hadn't been able to precisely determine what she owed him.