Long ago, before the creation of the Ninth Realm, Loki, the Trickster God, took as his consort, Angrboda, the Jötun, also known as the Herald of Sorrow. Hidden away in the center of the Iron Wood, Angrboda bore three children to Loki, Jörmungandr, the serpent; Fenrir, the wolf; and a girl-child named Hela. As Hela aged, half of her body grew up light and beautiful, a reflection of her father, but the other half began to die and wither in darkness as her mother dwelt in darkness.
For nine winters, Hela and her peculiar family lived happily among the woods of Jötunheìmr before the Æsir heard tale of their existence. News of a great serpent and a wolf cohabitating with a mother and child would not be idle! Oðin, in particular, was concerned by the stories passing through the realms regarding the Children of Loki. In his worry, Oðin decided to visit the Well of Urð to consult the Norns, the three weavers of wyrd and örlog. The Fate-Maidens bade him beware Loki’s spawn, for it was foretold that three monsters would bring great sadness to Asgard as the Herald of Sorrow and Master of Treachery passed on their talents to be unleashed upon those of Oðin’s race. Indeed, they spoke further: Oðin would meet his fate by the wolf at the end of all things.
It was after much deep thought and with a heavy heart that Oðin returned to Asgard and called the Æsir to gather in his hall. He spun the prophecy the weavers made and bade the best of his band quest with him to gather the seed of Loki; among them was Thor, the hammer-wielding Storm God, and Tyr, the God of the Sky. For many days, the war band traveled in search of signs. One night, their paths led them through the treacherous Iron Wood Forest in the heart of Jötunheìmr, whose trees were so poisonous as to taint the entire bloodline of their victims by touch. The family lay in peaceful slumber within their cave-like home, for what smaller dwelling could hold both a serpent and a giant-born wolf?
That night, Hela felt a presence. She opened her eyes to see shades and shadows drifting through her room, beckoning her to follow them outside with urgency. The spirits had visited Hela before and had proven themselves to be quite helpful and kind. She knew there was no danger in following them but sensed a pending doom if she were to stay. Silently, Hela slipped out and followed the shades as they led her through the darkness.
Just as Hela made her escape, Thor burst through the front door and waved his mighty hammer, knocking the young serpent and wolf out of sorts just long enough to seize them and drag them back to Asgard to stand in judgment before Oðin’s throne.
Thor arrived first in Oðin’s hall and thrust the writhing Jörmungandr at Oðin’s feet. Oðin tried to speak once, twice, three times, but the great serpent was beyond comprehension and reasoning in his anger. Seemingly frustrated and angered by the serpent’s presence, Oðin took him by the tale and flung him with all his might to the great sea surrounding Miðgarð. Jörmungandr’s heart grew in love for the people of Miðgarð as his body grew to surround their world. Over time, he grew large enough to bite his own tail, completely encasing the world of men in a protective circle. For as Oðin had hoped, what being could possibly rise up and destroy that which he loved and protected?
The wolf brought in by Tyr was ordered collared and tethered near Oðin’s hall, where he could keep an eye on the pup. As he grew, Fenrir learned many things about the nature of the Gods and those who called Asgard their home. He was fed and cared for by the hands of the Gods, almost fostered as a nephew ought to be. He, too, grew larger and stronger, breaking each successive leash they created for him. One day, when he was too large to be bound by any other rope, Oðin commissioned the Dwarves to create an unbreakable chain, for it was foretold that the wolf was to be Oðin’s demise at Ragnarök. Out of six ingredients did the Dwarves create their magical ribbon, Gleipnir: the sound of a cat’s footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spit of a bird. Fenrir, knowing he was too large to overpower, was unconcerned with the dealings of Gods and Dwarves.
It was decided that Tyr, being the most capable of reasoning, possessed of great wisdom and strongest of all save Thor though matched in courage, would be the one charged with binding Fenrir for good. Tyr approached the great wolf and complimented him on his strength, reciting all the various forms of rope and chain he had already managed to break. Tyr then proposed a challenge to the wolf, betting Fenrir that this one measly rope, Gleipnir, could be broken quite easily by such a one as he. He told the wolf that the Æsir had bet him Fenrir could not accomplish the feat, and that he, Tyr, believed him powerful enough to break them as though they were mere cobwebs! Fenrir agreed to be bound on the condition that Tyr placed his hand between his jaws as a show of good will, for who would blame him for not trusting his captors? With sincerity in his heart, Tyr placed his hand in the wolf’s mouth. Tyr bound the wolf, the wolf struggled ineffectively to break free, and when he realized he had been tricked, he bore down with all his might and severed the hand of Tyr, the God of Justice and Seeker of Balance, the Leavings of the Wolf. The Gods carried Fenrir off with much happiness and chained him to a rock, Gioll, a mile down into the Earth. There he shall remain until Ragnarök when it is prophesied that he will break his chains and seek out Oðin, whom he will devour only to be killed by Oðin’s son, Vidar.
After the first two children of Loki had been dealt with, Oðin inquired as to the whereabouts of the third child. Thor and Tyr both shrugged their shoulders, for they had seen no other living being on their journey. Oðin was puzzled, but resigned himself to wait and sent his ravens to gather what news they could find.
Upon leaving her home, Hela followed the shades to the West, over the mountains to Miðgarð. She discovered that at nine, she was the size of a full grown mortal, so, cloaked and quiet, her presence was never questioned by the men of this realm. She heard tale of a new serpent in the sea, proving to be a nuisance for the sailors. At such close vantage, Hela was able to observe quite a bit of the character of these mortal beings, and she also noted that she was being followed by more and more of the shade beings—only these were distinctly shaped like these mortals of Miðgarð.
She tarried as much as she dared in the world of men, captivated by their simple lives, but eventually the shades, now becoming quite a hoard, began to urge her on toward the South through Svartálfheìmr, the Land of the Dark Elves. Hela immediately noted the snow and wind as she traveled beyond the outer borders but found herself comforted by the shades, who wrapped themselves around her like a protective shield from the elements. On South they traveled, through valleys dark and deep until at last they arrived at a river. Hela was mesmerized by the river, and as her eyes followed its path, she beheld a most magnificent sight: a great bridge thatched in shining gold! Hela began to walk, her eyes never leaving the shimmering wonder before her. It is said the sun doesn’t shine often South of Svartálfheìmr, if that was indeed where she still was, and the shining bridge was a most welcome sight, bathing the surrounding lands with its glow.
When she arrived at the bridge, she was surprised to see a woman waiting for her. She introduced herself as Möðguðr, and welcomed Hela by name. Hela raised an eyebrow, but before she could speak, the shades began to move freely across the bridge, the Gjallar Bridge that crosses the River Gjöll. As the last shades were passing, those who were with her in her Jötunheìmr home beckoned her to follow them before they turned and continued onward.
Without a word, Möðguðr took Hela’s hand and lead her toward the bridge. She paused only for a moment before setting foot into that golden, cavernous tunnel. When her foot touched the bridge, she heard a faint din, like a soft drum on metal, and felt a peculiar warmth spread through her body. Sparkling and shimmering light like ice crystals was swirling around her, encompassing her in a cloud of glittering snowflakes which passed as quickly as it came. Hela found a golden key had been left in her hand. She took another step, and this time no sound accompanied her footfall. Möðguðr lead her on across the Gjallar Bridge in silence. Just off the opposite shore, Hela found a path leading downhill and strangely veering further north. With a nod from Möðguðr, Hela followed the path alone.
The path was dark, but Hela was unafraid. She walked this path alone and with confidence. Everything in her life had led her to this moment, and she saw clearly what had befallen her and strangely her roll in things to come. After she had walked for some unmarked time, Hela began to see the shades once more, now more distinctly shaped as they must have been in their living form. More and more of them lined the path until a great hoard stood outside a great metal door. Hela looked at the door and down at the key in her hand, and all was made clear. She placed the key into the hole and the entire realm opened before her. The shades, no longer such shadowy beings, walked into the great hall on the other side of the door.
Oðin’s ravens miss nothing, and when they discovered Hela had traveled South of Svartálfheìmr and crossed the bridge, they flew immediately to Asgard to inform him of this news. Oðin immediately sent Hermóðr to summon Hela to his hall for an audience.
Hermóðr began traveling south, down through Miðgarð and beyond until he finally came to the Echoing River, Gjoll, where Möðguðr was keeping watch. With his first step upon the bridge, such a clamoring was heard that he thought the entire bridge would collapse! Möðguðr appeared, covering her ears and shouting for him to retreat to the shore for none such as he were permitted to pass without a proper guide. As luck would have it, the noise piqued the curiosity of the young Hela, who appeared to glide across the bridge from out of nowhere. Hela was not as Hermóðr was expecting. In fact, she was anything but. Tall she was, just cresting her 15th year, with long, shadowy hair and skin as white as snow. Half of her body did lie in shadow, true, but the withered form was somehow lovely and made the half full of life seem all the more vibrant. Even more enchanting was the grace and elegance that enfolded her every move. Hermóðr stood in awe and delivered his summons only when prompted to speak by the lady herself.
Hela agreed to travel with him; undoubtedly she could not have been forced, and after weeks of travel, they returned to Asgard where Hela stood proudly before Oðin, all eyes at court upon her. Similar to Hermóðr, Hela was not what Oðin was expecting, but then, Loki was never what Oðin expected either. Ever.
“Lady Hela, first of all, let me welcome you to Asgard!” Oðin said, and all was quiet in the hall. Hela waited, and Oðin continued. “I am sure you are wondering why I have summoned you here.” Hela continued to wait, refusing to allow him to bait her to speak. Oðin addressed her a third time, “Do you know what has happened to your brothers?”
Being asked a direct question, Hela replied, “If you mean do I know that you have tossed my eldest brother to the sea and bound the younger in fetters, yes.” A mumbling waved through the hall, silenced by a raise of Oðin’s hand.
“You must be courageous, then, to come here of your own free will, knowing that such a fate has befallen them. Or incredibly stupid, but this I fully doubt. You have a look of wit about you.” Surprisingly, Oðin’s flattery fell flat in the face of such aired deeds. He continued and asked her again, “Do you know why I have called you here?”
“I assume to deal out some sort of punishment for my existence, but I assure you, I have nothing to fear. I know what lies beyond this realm and to where all those who have passed outside your battlegrounds will dwell for eternity.” Hela pronounced.
“Do you, now?” replied Oðin, with much interest.
“Of course,” Hela answered. “As magnificent as you are, you will never see such a place, Warrior King. And even if you did, I have the only key.” At that, Hela held up the golden key that fit the gateway to the Hall of the Dead. Oðin looked at her, his one eye furrowed at the brow, and fell into thought, recalling the words of the Norns when he consulted them so long ago regarding the spawn of Loki. She did not appear to be much of a Herald of Sorrow but greatly possessed of cunning, and the fear she instilled in the people at court was enough to convince him of her power. Besides, his ravens had informed him of much more than merely her geographic location, and he was awaiting just such a disclosure to confirm the truth before his eye.
Oðin spoke, “Very well. Since it is well known that your brother is my blood-brother, I cannot very well punish you without due cause. I also cannot allow you to remain in this court.”
Hela interrupted him, “Sir, I have no desire to remain in your court.” Another round of murmerings were heard in the hall.
Oðin paused and asked her quietly, “What do you want, Hela?”
Hela smiled, “I just want to go home.” Oðin thought long and hard on those words. A simple solution was laid out before him.
“Go home, indeed, Hela. A very wise and simple request,” Oðin replied. Oðin stood, followed by the rest of the Gods and Goddesses in the hall, and beckoned Hela forward. She stepped into his out-stretched hand, and he spoke once more with his hand upon her shoulder, “Hela, Daughter of Loki, Blood Brother to Oðin, The Alfather, I hereby send you to the Hall of the Dead, where you shall keep watch over all those who die away from the fields of battle to judge as you see fit with eternal peace or eternal punishment for crimes upon those of their kind. Henceforth shall the Hall of the Dead be known as Hela’s Hall and the lands surrounding it, Helheim.”
Hela nodded to Oðin as an equal, turned and glided away as though carried on the wind, forging a path for all those who pass on from life to follow her, Hela’s path, on their way to the Hall of the Dead.
