IT’S A SHAME that, like many of the creatures written into the old stories, the Hounds of Hel got a bad rap. While the aurochs-sized beasts appear threatening with that blood-colored sheen on otherwise black fur, the razor-sharp claws, the glowing red eyes, and the foamy drool that drips from gnashing teeth when they snarl and snap at every entity approaching the gates to Hel, they’re really quite amiable to gestures of hospitality. In fact, one barrel of apple ale later and the ever-fierce Garmr, along with her pack of adolescents, transformed into yipping, tail-wagging, lid-fetching playthings.
With a happy grunt, Garmr slammed the barrel lid frisbee down on my foot.
“Ouch!”
She barked and stomped, wagging her tail until I picked it up and tossed it as far as I could again. The hounds scampered after it while I eyed the path to the stone terrace of Hel’s Hall. Since my mother wouldn’t deliver my message, I decided to do it myself. Tensions might be high, but I couldn’t think of a thing more unwise than a war.
As I rehearsed my proposal, a dark, shimmering fog approached. A beautiful feminine form with skin the color of moonlight and hair as black as night materialized a few feet in front of me.
“Sága,” Hel said. “Of all the gods and goddesses in Asgard, you’re the last one I expected to find in my garden today?”
“Sorry, Grandmother,” I said, bowing my head. “I had an urgent need to see you.”
Playful yips and barks in the distance turned Hel’s attention to the far end of the stone wall enclosure. She shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t turn my hounds into drunken dogs when you visit. They have work to do.”
“Well, you know what mankind says about all work and no play.”
“Ah, yes. The proverb,” Hel said. “But a more recent work of mankind details the mischief that follows when I don’t know who let the dogs out, Dearest Granddaughter. In any case, I prefer my dogs chained to their work. It prevents many headaches.”
“Are we still talking about hound dogs?” I asked, blowing out a breath.
“Oh, yes. We are. But perhaps the definition expanded to include those who run on two legs as well as four.”
Garmr and the pack of teens emerged from the tree row playfully tossing and snatching the barrel lid from one another while running up the garden’s greenspace. In a rare display of delight, Hel laughed at the sight.
Still smiling, she looked at me. “I don’t have much time these days. What was the urgent matter that brought you here?”
“Oh, um…” I hesitated.
Hel laughed again. “Go ahead, spit it out. Are you having trouble with a beau?”
“Sort of,” I said, swallowing hard. “I know Odin seems … difficult, but name one nonhuman being who doesn’t struggle with change, especially when it means a status change.”
Hel’s smile faded. “You can save the speech, Sága. In fact, I command you not to speak another word if that was the purpose for your visit. The judgment has been written, and it was signed in blood. There is no changing it now.”
“I only meant to petition you for more time,” I said, hanging my head. “If I could get him away from—”
“I’m sorry, but it’s entirely out of my hands,” Hel said. “Odin was given the opportunity to list what he needed to ensure compliance as soon as the decree was delivered. His only request was to have the assistance of that ill-mannered human specter. And, since every resource was made available to him and he asked for no other, I have to assume he will use the specter to finish the task on time.”
“I don’t—”
Garmr had stopped short and was crouching, her red eyes fixed on a target in the distance. The rumble of her growl caused the whole pack of adolescents to lose focus, crash into each other, and land in a giant pile on the grass. One-by-one, they untangled and rushed to Garmr’s side. Each imitated Garmr’s crouch and growl until the ear-popping shriek of an arriving Valkyrie turned all pup growls into pained whines and cries.
A rush of wind chilled me when she landed.
“What are those bags of meat doing off the chain?” Skuld asked.
It was my good luck Skuld was fated to rescue me just then. Hel’s eyes turned icy blue as her mood changed from slightly annoyed at my out-of-line plea to angry at her youngest sisters overstep. When she pursed her lips and turned to face Skuld, I backed away.
“I don’t feel I have to answer that question,” Hel said, “since they are my hounds, at my home, under my command, in my realm and are therefore none of your concern, Dearest Sister.”
“I only meant to point out that there are rumblings of a rebellion and it would better serve us if the hounds returned to the gates,” Skuld said.
I sensed a change in Skuld as I looked her over. Same stormy gray eyes. Same fierce expression beneath her white hair. It was her heightened eagerness that was responsible for the dull ache in my stomach. I wished it was in Skuld’s nature to be eager to learn another language or to weave tapestries, but Valkyries were only ever eager for two things: the hunt, and war.
Garmr sat straight, her attention fixed on Skuld and Hel. Her head turned from side-to-side, not sure what to do, and it was all my fault. Maybe if I returned the hounds to work, I could slip back into Hel’s good graces. While Hel and Skuld railed about rules, procedure, and other boring stuff, I waved my fingers to signal Garmr to go away.
She cocked her head and licked her lips.
Damned dog never could take a nonverbal hint. I mouthed “shoo” and waved again.
Garmr stood up and barked.
I threw up my arms. “Oh, for Goddess sake! You’re the worst hand sign and lip reader ever! I said shoo! as in back to work … no more booze, no more fun! Now be gone!”
Pausing mid-conversation, Skuld pinned me with her stormy gray eyes. “What do you mean, no more booze?”
“I—”
“She just meant break time is over and it’s time everyone got back to work,” Hel said, stepping forward. She gestured for the hounds to stand.
I studied the movement for future reference. Apparently, when the hounds are extra-large, so too are the gestures.
“Vorðr!” Hel said.
The Old Norse command sent the hounds bounding back toward Hel’s Gate and guard duty.
“It’s no wonder Odin isn’t finished with the rewrite,” Skuld said, scrutinizing me. A sly smile spread across her face. “He’s been spending too much time with Asgard’s favorite party girl. I thought you might be helping him, being the goddess of wisdom and history, but you’re not helping him at all.”
“You’ve been spying on me?” I asked.
“Of course not,” Skuld said. “We’ve been watching Odin. Unfortunately, we lost him today. You wouldn’t know where he’s gone, would you? We don’t need him stirring up trouble.”
“Humph. I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“Sága!” Hel said, her brows furrowed. “His movements need to be tracked until he has completed his orders. If you know where he is, you will tell us or I can’t protect you.”
“I don’t know where he is.” My face heated despite the evening chill.
This visit was a mistake. Skuld was right about one thing—my time would have been better spent forcing Odin’s hand to the page. And, now, I planned to do just that.
and, just for fun…
a note from the author…
Well, things just heated up for Sága in Hel. Were you surprised by my description of Hel’s appearance? She is not the half-alive, half-dead faced character you thought she’d be, right? There is a very good reason for that, but you’ll have to keep reading to find out more.
I hope you enjoyed Episode III of the Sága’s Fable Mind Series Prequel. More episodes are coming to Substack soon! In the meantime, feel free to comment on this episode. Or, tell me about your favorite UNDERWORLD characters from your preferred set of myths, legends, or folktales.