CHAPTER 8: BELOVED
Ullr had entered Elvidnir in a whirlwind of healthy enthusiasm, the power of his life force shaking Hela to her very soul.
Well over six feet tall, the well-muscled Ullr had long sandy hair and a beard that tended to get a bit unruly when he was by himself in the wilds of Midgard in the dead of winter. In fact, he had trimmed it for the occasion, hoping for an eventual kiss from the friend he had never forgotten.
"Hela!" he had shouted, swooping low in a bow. "I am so happy to see you!"
The death goddess had been temporarily struck dumb. She had grown unused to speaking louder than a whisper, to moving at any pace other than her usual slow hobble, to hoping for anything other than dank and darkness. Ullr's evident joy at seeing her had been like a plunge into freezing water. Within moments, she had regained her composure and had extended her good hand.
"Welcome to my kingdom, Ullr," she had said with as much dignity as she could muster. She had actually smiled for the first time in ages, her face stretching in an unfamiliar way.
He had strode forward, had mounted the steps to her throne, and had seized her hand with hearty good humor. When he had kissed it, poor Hela had nearly fainted. It had been so long since a living human had touched her. The power of his life force shot through her like an arrow, dissolving her gloom and bathing her in its reflected heat.
The winter god had arrived in her dismal world in a great explosion of joy and life.
Ullr had not seemed to mind Hela's appearance, much to her surprise.
"It's sort of a relief not to see you swathed in blankets any more," Ullr had told Hela while taking a walk in her herb gardens one afternoon. "I wondered why you didn't drop of heat exhaustion, wandering around Asgard like that in the dead of summer. It does my heart good to see you coming into your own and not caring so much what people think of you."
"There is no one around here to care," she remarked. "How are things in Asgard?"
"Much the same as when you left. Mother is fine. Stepfather Thor is out slaying frost giants as we speak. Freyja is her usual snotty self. Iduna hands out her golden apples and keeps everyone young. Odin is adamantine; doesn't seem to appreciate my sense of humor, it seems. Your father is a trial, of course. He grows a bit more erratic each day, if you don't mind my saying so."
"I don't mind at all," the death goddess replied with a shrug. "He pays me no more mind than he did when I was a child. If it wasn't for your mother and the Valkyries, I think I would have starved to death in Asgard."
Ullr smiled. "Well, you are doing well enough, it seems."
"Things are seldom what they seem," she replied solemnly. "I die a little more each day. I long for sunshine and cannot have it. I yearn for the moon and the stars and growing flowers and sunrises and sunsets and cannot have them, either. I pray every night that I will not survive to see the next day."
Ullr sighed. "Not good, Hela. I am sorry for your trouble."
"My life consists of welcoming and assigning the dead to their new destinies. I don't like consigning the evil to punishment, but enjoy the children and babies, as sad as that may sound to you. It is quite a responsibility, feeding and sheltering thousands and thousands of souls, going back generations. It sometimes makes my head spin."
"You're such a caretaker. Sounds like you need someone to take care of you."
His words pierced her heart, her loneliness suddenly overwhelming her. She hung her head so that her long hair covered the left half of her face.
"There is no one," she whispered.
"There is now," he said solemnly, taking her in his strong arms. Without another word, he kissed her.
The rest was predictable.
Hela's frosty mien melted like warm butter on a hot fire. Ullr was quite happy, willing, and able to do what he could to assuage her loneliness. The two exiles spent every moment of every day with each other and the queen of the dead thought she herself would die of happiness.
Ullr even managed to convince Hela to leave her kingdom for a little while and he took her to Midgard's Arctic Circle to take in the sights. They lay in their warm winter furs on the icecaps and watched the aurora borealis flicker in the night sky. They spent their nights in Ullr's well-built snow caves, delighting in each other's warmth and love. He told her tales of his exploits that sent the frail woman into gales of laughter. They hiked (albeit slowly) over the glaciers bathed in the light of the midnight sun, and Ullr taught Hela how to draw a bow. He had even gotten her drunk on mead a few times, and had laughed heartily at her ensuing giggle-fits. It tore at her heart to have to return to her kingdom.
"If we don't, Allfather Odin will have our heads," she joked.
In truth, word of their affair had already reached Asgard. The roots of the great world-tree Yggdrasil extended under Helheim, and running up and down its trunk was the troublesome squirrel Ratotoskr.
"Our queen is neglecting her duties," the little rodent chattered to the eagle that lived on the branches of Yggdrasil that were warmed by the sun. "The dead have lined up in front of Elvidnir, waiting for reception and assignment. Bad little Hela Half-Rotted is too much in love with her winter god to care. Niflheim is going to rack and ruin. Shocking, shocking! Too bad, so sad!"
It wasn't long that Allfather Odin heard from the eagle of Yggdrasil.
"Damn that boy," he cried to Frigga and Loki during a quiet dinner at his palace. "Fooling around when he should learn some humility. All he cares about is snowshoeing and wooing the women. Useless!"
Loki's eyes grew large. "What do you mean 'fooling around'? In Helheim? There's nothing to do there!"
"That's what you think, foolish father," Odin replied, rather happy for once to get one over on the trickster. "Your daughter is starry-eyed, abandoning her kingdom and shirking her duties."
"Hela?" Loki shrieked. "My Hela?"
"Indeed. All is love and laughter with those two. They are practically joined at the hip, and it really needs to be brought under control. I've a mind to bringing Ullr back just to spite him. Maybe I'll send him to Muspellheim to sweat it out in Surt's court."
For once, Loki the silver-tongued was speechless.
Ullr and Hela had returned to Elvidnir and she had hastily disposed of the administrative backlog there. There had been a massive earthquake in Iceland and a number of failed Viking raids in Europe, so she was busy. Not that she cared these days. Ullr sat nearby at a respectful distance, watching her carry out the tasks of state. He cared neither for her power nor her duties. Ullr was simply satisfied to bask in the death goddess's adoration and enjoy the good things that came with it. Why suffer in exile when one can enjoy life in exile, even in the land of the dead?
The last decedent consigned to Nastrond, Hela stood up and stretched. Ullr came up and massaged her stiff shoulders, mindful of the pain on her left side from which she chronically suffered.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"My pleasure, ma'am," he returned. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist and held her in a long hug.
"Hello, Ullr," Loki proclaimed, striding down the hall toward the pair. "How's the wife?"