★ Helheim Story:
When at last the ship Ringhorn had floated out so far to sea that it looked like a dull red lamp on the horizon, Frigga turned round and said, “Does any one of you, my children, wish to perform a noble action and win my love forever?”
“I do,” cried Hermod, before any one else had time to open his lips.
“Go then, Hermod,” answered Frigga, “saddle Sleipnir with all speed and ride down to Helheim; there seek out Hela, the stern mistress of the dead, and entreat her to send our beloved back to us once more.”
Hermod was gone in the twinkling of an eye, not in at the mouth of the earth and through the steep cavern down which Odin went to the dead Vala’s grave; he chose another way, though not a better one; for, go to Helheim how you will, the best is but a downward road, and so Hermod found it–downward, slanting, slippery, dark, and very cold. At last he came to the Giallar Bru–that sounding river which flows between the living and the dead, and the bridge over which is paved with stones of glittering gold.
Hermod was surprised to see gold in such a place; but as he rode over the bridge, and looked down carefully at the stones, he saw that they were only tears which had been shed round the beds of the dying–only tears, and yet they made the way seem brighter. But when Hermod reached the other end of the bridge, he found the courageous woman who, for ages and ages, had been sitting there to watch the dead go by, and she stopped him, saying:
“What a noise you make! Who are you? Yesterday five troops of dead men went over the Giallar Bridge and did not shake it so much as you have done. Besides,” she added, looking more closely at Hermod, “you are not a dead man at all. Your lips are neither cold not blue. Why, then, do you ride on the way to Helheim?”
“I seek Baldur,” answered Hermod. “Tell me, have you seen him pass?”
“Baldur,” she said, “has ridden over the bridge; but there below, towards the north, lies the way to the Abodes of Death.”
So Hermod went on the way until he came to the barred gates of Helheim itself. There he alighted, tightened his saddle-girths, remounted, clapped both spurs to his horse, and cleared the gate by one tremendous leap. Then Hermod found himself in a place where no living man had ever been before–the City of the Dead. Perhaps you think there is a great silence there, but you are mistaken. Hermod thought he had never in his life heard so much noise; for the echoes of all words were speaking together–words, some newly uttered and some ages old; but the dead men did not hear who flitted up and down the dark streets, for their ears had been stunned and become cold long since.
Hermod rode on through the city until he came to the palace of Hela, which stood in the midst. Precipice was its threshold, the entrance hall, Wide Storm, and yet Hermod was not too much afraid to seek the innermost rooms; so he went on to the banqueting hall, where Hela sat at the head of her table and served her newest guests. Baldur, alas! sat at her right hand, and on her left his pale young wife. When Hela saw Hermod coming up the hall she smiled grimly, but beckoned to him at the same time to sit down, and told him that he might sup that night with her.
It was a strange supper for a living man to sit down to. Hunger was the table; Starvation, Hela’s knife; Delay, her man; Slowness, her maid; and Burning Thirst, her wine. After supper Hela led the way to the sleeping apartments. “You see,” she said, turning to Hermod, “I am very anxious about the comfort of my guests. Here are beds of unrest provided for all, hung with curtains of weariness, and look how all the walls are furnished with despair.”
So saying she strode away, leaving Hermod and Baldur together. The whole night they sat on those unquiet couches and talked. Hermod could speak of nothing but the past, and as he looked anxiously round the room his eyes became dim with tears. But Baldur seemed to see a light far off, and he spoke of what was to come.
The next morning Hermod went to Hela, and entreated her to let Baldur return to Asgard. He even offered to take his place in Helhelm if she pleased; but Hela only laughed at this and said: “You talk a great deal about Baldur, and boast how much every one loves him; I will prove now if what you have told me be true. Let everything on earth, living or dead, weep for Baldur, and he shall go home again; but if one thing only refuse to weep, then let Helheim hold its own; he shall not go.”
“Every one will weep willingly,” said Hermod, as he mounted Sleipnir and rode towards the entrance of the city. Baldur went with him as far as the gate and began to send messages to all his friends in Asgard, but Hermod would not listen to many of them.
“You will so soon come back to us,” he said, “there is no use in sending messages.”
So Hermod darted homewards, and Baldur watched him through the bars of Helheim’s gateway as he flew along.
“Not soon, not soon,” said the dead Asa; but still he saw the light far off, and thought of what was to come.
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The Landing Of The Pilgrim Fathers In New England