“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 nor 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 serving her new 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 Helheim 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.”