Chapter 5: EXILED

The daughter of Loki lay curled into a ball, covered with Tyr's spare cloak, in the back of Thor's chariot.

"You must get out of the chariot!" Thor cried, annoyed. "We are at the entrance to Niflheim and can go no further."

"What makes you think they will let me in?" Hela shrieked back. She knew that her behavior was unacceptable but if girl ever had the right to throw a tantrum before being cast into the land of the dead, she certainly did. "I'm not dead!"

Thor huffed. "Look. I'm aware that my stepson is fond of you, and of course your father and I are related by blood-oath. But I don't trust him and I don't trust you either, frankly. Allfather Odin must have seen something in you that caused him to send you here. And who's to say you're not able to go through the gates of Niflheim?"

Hela shrieked in outrage, shooting out of the chariot and pummeling the big man with her fists. "Don't you dare say that I'm dead! And how dare you insult my father? The reason I'm here is because your stupid father is afraid of mine and wants to split up his family so we can't plot against him! Any fool can see that!"

With a sigh, Thor gently grasped the girl's bony wrists in his large hands. "That's enough. We've done our job and now you must do yours. I don't intend to argue with a little girl." Hela responded by kicking him in the shin.

Tyr laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Why don't you take a rest? Let me talk to her. Take a breath, Thor." Tyr looked about anxiously; the land of the dead was no place for the gods of Asgard. It gave him the shudders and he just wanted to deliver this pathetic child to her destination and get back over the Rainbow Bridge as fast as he possibly could.

By this time Hela was sitting cross-legged on the ground, again weeping in despair. Tyr squatted down low and reached out to lift her pointed little chin.

"Now look, Hela, your father agreed to this and wants you to give it your very best."

She shot him a look that would have frozen the fire lakes in Muspellheim. "I didn't agree to this. I don't want to be the death goddess. I want to go back to the Iron Wood in Jotunheim and back to my mother and if you had any sense at all you would turn this chariot and these stupid goats back around and take me there."

"Not going to happen, young one," Thor replied above her. He reached down and hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her back to her unsteady feet. "Allfather Odin spoke with the Norns and all agreed that you would rule Niflheim as queen of the dead."

"No," Hela moaned, swatting his hands away.

"What if I was to decide I didn't want to be the god of war any longer?" Tyr asked her in a kindly voice. "If I went off to tend sheep or whatnot, who would defend Asgard during times of attack?"

"And I can't turn around and decide I want to lie in the clouds like Njord or sit in a castle like some lord of Midgard," Thor added. "We all have our jobs to do and this one is yours, young lady. As young as you are, you are still of the House of Loki and must carry out your destiny."

At this, the frightened girl whirled around and did her best to run away. Sighing, Thor reached out and grabbed the edge of her cloak.

"I'm afraid you can't escape this, Hela," Thor told her as gently as he could, releasing her. "This is where we leave you. Be a credit to your father and try to do your best. I'm sorry we couldn't do more for you."

Hela began to cry once again and Tyr had the kindness to kneel down and hug the child. "We will give your love to your family for you when we return to Asgard," he told her.

At this her sobs became screams. "Please don't leave me! I don't know anyone here! Everything here is dead and ugly and I'm afraid! Don't leave me please!"

Thor shook his head as Tyr pried her arms from around his back. Without another word, he pushed Hela past the gate's guardian, over the threshold, and into the land of the dead. Within seconds a dense cloud of twisted mist, shimmering with unearthly points of light, descended upon the girl.

She began to scream.

As the screams continued, rising and falling in pitch in reflection of the horror of she who screamed, the two mighty warriors of Valhalla realized they could no longer bear it. "How could Allfather send a child to such a terrible end?" Tyr hissed, his voice breaking.

Thor was in the chariot in a flash, readying it for a quick escape. "Even if she was half-dead before, she has surely perished now." Tyr leapt in behind him; Thor snapped his whip over the goats' heads.

The chariot spun around, nearly upending. As it pounded full-speed up the road leading to the other Eight Worlds, Thor and Tyr took an oath that no matter what Loki the mischief-god did to them in the future, they would never tell him what had happened to his child.