milliways_bar | (no subject)

"The twilight of the gods. We're all going to die then."

She's very matter of fact about this. She's also staring at the ground, and has closed her visible eye;

"Everyone but the Men. I think most of them will die, too. First three years of winter, and then things will get bad."

Cheerful sounding prediction isn't it?

But from the sounds of it, he can understand that, to at least one race back home, Ragnarok isn't just a prediction but a certainty.

"The Men will survive...," he repeats, wondering if the fulfillment of the prophecy for his people will be their salvation or their "Ragnarok".

Lir? Will it all end for us?

Uncharacteristically, the wolf called Serri is silent, offering no word at all to Niall.

Serri? Will it?

"But the gods will die."

She nods, and then shakes her head. She doesn't really want to get into the hows and specifics of the deaths.

"It won't be until I am old, however. There are things still to happen."

"The gods...," he repeats, now feeling even more dread for his own people.

The Cheysuli have many gods; the Ihlini only the one.

It's not a comforting thought, but the fact that for Hel, the prophesy regarding her world is a long way off is.

Still, Niall wonders: will the prophecy of the Firstborn mean the end for his people, or the beginning.

And still Serri remains silent, unwilling or unable to answer Niall's silent pleas.

She looks up at him again, and offers a slight half-smile,

"If it helps at all, I really don't think you're from my world. And I only know of two that have Ragnarok. The other one is almost mine, but not quite. I have to admit I'm a little...obsessed...but that's because there isn't much to do in Niflheim except brood."

And she looks very young for a moment, touching the hidden side of her face,

"And I miss my family a lot."

Ah, a pleasant change of subject. Niall grabs it, not wanting to think of the death of one race or another.

"Tell me about your family," he asks with genuine interest. "Especially your father the shapechanger. How can he shapechange without a lir's aide?"

"My father? My father is Loki. He's not the Loki who is here....either of them, really. The one who looks like a child is almost my father, but from a different reality. Loki, my father, is known as the trickster god, the mischief maker, the father of lies and deceit."

She laughs a bit,

"But he is a good father, really! He has always been able to change his shape, it is part of his magic. The only other shape changers I can think of are the Valkyrie, and they don't have lir either, actually."

It's all rather confusing, as Niall hasn't met anyone who calls himself "Loki" yet, but he commits all this to memory.

You never know when you might need it.

"Really? Can he become an animal at will, or can he become something other than animal when he changes shape?"

No idea why he asked about being able to turn oneself into inanimate objects - all the shapechanging Niall knows about is from human to animal.

"And what are the Valkyrie?" he asks. "Are they like the Cheysuli, but with no need of lir to help them with shapechanging?"

"He can be anything he wants."

Definate pride, there, even if it is tinged with the thought that, maybe, if he hadn't been a shape-shifter Hel wouldn't be what she is.

"The Valkyrie are Odin's handmaids. They decide which of the dead go to Valhalla, and which come to Niflheim and me. They can be swan, raven, wolf, and horse."

She doesn't like them. Not even a little bit.

Anything he wants to be.., Niall repeats in his mind. Only his sister Isolde and wife Gisella could possibly come this close.

To become what you want to be, is that the true power of the Firstborn?

You can always ask your rujholla when you return about it lir; see what she has to say about the ability to be any animal she chooses to be.

"Is that why you don't like ravens? Because the Valkyrie can be ravens and they send those warriors who are unwelcome in this Valhalla to you?"

"No, I don't like ravens because Odin has a pair of them. Odin is...sort of my uncle. The father of the gods. He...doesn't...like me."

The spaces where she doesn't speak are as eloquently pained as an entire book. Her gloved hand has creeped up under her hair, and she's resting her face in it.

"The Valkyrie just didn't...say anything. Nobody did. Father didn't know, but...nobody spoke for us."

"And what do these ravens that your uncle has do?" he asks. There are lir that some warriors find unlikeable, but they're something of a rarity.

But that's not on his mind. Hel is clearly upset; most likely from talking about her uncle.

I don't like Ceinn, but not like this...

"And why doesn't he like you? Why didn't the Valkyrie say anything in your favour. Do they not like you either?"

"Hugin and Munnin. Thought and memory. They find things out, and tell him, and go and find more things."

She shakes her head a little;

"He doesn't like me...they don't like me...because I'm one of 'Loki's Monstrous Children'. That's what they call us."

And her father who is not quite her father says that she is not a monster. Her father who is her father always loved her. She and her brothers never thought of themselves as monsters....

But what can you think when the gods look at you in horror and then cast you out? All for the crime of being who you are?

"Spies," he says. It's rather obvious what Hugin and Munnin are to this Odin god. They go find things to observe and report back to their master.

And chances are, Hel was the subject of a report or two, and that didn't go down well. Not at all.

"But you're just a girl," Niall says, unable to understand why Odin would call her a "monster". "You don't look anything like a monster to me..."

She lifts her face, to look Niall full on.

And she's waiting for him to recoil.

NOW he's stunned. Up till now he'd only thought it shyness that kept her left half hidden from his view.

That she was merely uncertain of her self-worth that she remained partially obscurred.

"By the gods...," he says on a whisper.

"What happened to you to make you look like that? What manner of accident or illness did that?!"

She turns her face away from him again, and closes her eyes; the blue and the blind, and in a soft whisper she speaks,

All along he's been talking to a goddess... Till now he'd only taken her for a girl not that much younger than he himself was.

Gods...

And brother to a wolf and a snake too... Is that why Odin hated her this much? Did he have something against wolves and snakes?

I should hope not lir; I would not like to meet a man - or a god - who hates wolves so much.

"But if that's the way you look, and there's nothing you can do about it, why should he cast you out? What possible threat could you pose, even as a goddess?"

It is the same anywhere lir. There will always be those willing to shun those who are different, Serri said pointedly. Even Gisella cannot help her own defects, yet too many cast her aside.

Are you trying to tell me something?

More like hoping you'll take valuable lessons away from all this when we return to our world.

"I don't know. I only ever saw him when he told me that I was a monster. He threw Jormundgan into the ocean, they took Fenrir away, and then he threw me down."

Years are twisty things. Developmentally, she is a little bit younger than he is. As far as years? She doesn't really know. Immortals don't age normally.

"I'm sorry."

She's not sure why she's apologizing, 'though she's got something of the idea that it is for making him see her.

"That's cruel," Niall says with sincerity. "To throw out one's own kin like that. And you can't do anything about the way you look either..."

I hope you will be as kind to Gisella as you are to this goddess when we return.., Serri interjects, intending to make his point heard.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for Hel; it's how you were born. There's nothing to be sorry about."

"Thank you."

She murmurs it, with a flicker of smile. That's what her father and brother keep saying. Hel isn't quite sure, but she's trying to believe the people who speak to her.

"I am trying to keep from being bitter."

And she's a little awkward, not knowing how to change the subject away from the topic of herself.

"As long as you have friends, you'll find it easy to keep from being bitter about how Odin has treated you."

Niall doesn't know how to change the subject either, but Serri decides to take a little initiative of his own.

He gets up and nudges Hel's left hand, trying to give her comfort even though he can't speak with her at all.

But then, Hel is a goddess. She might yet find a way to bridge the gap...

"That is true."

She smiles a little, which becomes a larger one when Serri nudges her hand. One of her brothers is a wolf, and she sinks gracefully to the ground in order to give him the scratching and petting that such a noble animal deserves;

"He really is beautiful. How did he find you? I know your gods send him to you, but there must be a story behind it."

She's mostly a goddess of dead things. And very young. If she may, someday, be able to speak with animals...now isn't the day.

Serri murmurs louder, appreciating the good petting he's getting. This woman - no, goddess definitely has a way with animals. Especially wolves.

"I'm not sure how he found me, but I know how I found him."

He pauses for a moment; the story is long and complicated. And thus in need of considerable truncation.

"Well, what I know is that one night I felt empty - beyond empty - and I left the castle I lived in. I had to get out; I had to. I couldn't stay inside any more. And I stayed outside, in the forests surrounding my home.

"Out there I ran into someone who I knew meant me nothing but trouble. Ceinn. He and his friends used the Cheysuli gift of coercion on me, and they made me think I had a lir and that my lir was dead."

He shudders; the memories are fresh and painful.

"Well, when a warrior's lir dies before he does, he becomes an empty, soulless shell of a man, and as life as such a man is unthinkable, he instead performs the death ritual by going out amongst the beasts unarmed to meet his fate.

That's what Ceinn did to me."

Serri stops murmuring, but he remains to be scratched, ready to offer his input if needed.

"But it was then that Serri had found me. He found me and he helped to break Ceinn's spell on me. I owe him much; I'd be dead if Ceinn had succeeded."

Again a pause. And a drink from the now-cold cup of honey brew. He's a bit thirsty from talking as much as he has.

"In some ways, that's how a warrior finds his lir. He suddenly feels himself empty yet full of a great need to go outside, to find that which will make him whole; body, mind and spirit. And he stays out there until he finds his lir.

Lir-sickness they call it. When a man becomes so consumed with emptiness he has no choice but to go out in the forest and find his lir."

She listens quietly, scratching and petting Serri.

"They must have feared you very much, to pervert something as important as this bond you and Serri share."

The balanced words are measured out carefully as she thinks about the story,

"If they just hated you, I think, they would have found something else. May I ask what became of Ceinn?"

She would never admit it, but she's hoping that Serri killed him. Growing up with Fenrir left some probably indelible marks with regards to Hel's understanding of lupine reactions, and she has never liked the thought of injustice.