Read Online The Monstrous Child by Francesca Simon - Free Book Online
Authors: Francesca Simon
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be far from Nidhogg. The dragon can keep the bloody pit in which he lives. I want nothing to do with the valley where he gnaws on corpses and the great Yggdrasil’s roots. I do notwant a dragon for a neighbour. Ditto the howling chained dog that Modgud described. Not in my courtyard.
4. My death realm must have high walls; Hel will be a fortress within Niflheim. The ramparts round my kingdom must reach higher than the walls of Asgard. Won’t that make the gods rage with jealousy when they hear of the palace I have created?
5. Within those towering walls I will build a hall. Not just any hall, but the largest hall in all the worlds. One-Eye’s golden palace will look like a privy beside it. (Mine will smell worse than one, but let’s pretend we don’t notice.)
6. I like naming things, and I will call my grave mound Eljudnir . My Rain-Damp, Sleet-Cold Hall. No Rose Palace or Mount Pleasant for me. And I’ll build icy pitch-black portals named Corpse Gate and Carrion Gate . I think I’ve excelled myself with those names. What? Youthink I should have called my lovely entrances Welcome Home and Rest Your Feet? Built a gleaming palace of light and happiness? Ha! I don’t want to entice anyone in under false pretences. ‘If only we’d known the hideous welcome awaiting us in this dismal hall, we’d have gone elsewhere …’
7. Corpse Gate and Carrion Gate, which will lock in the dead forever, must be made of iron, tightly wrought and impassable. I want them oozing, like molton metal, dreadful and oily to the touch. If I can’t stop the dead from swarming in, at least my barred gates will keep out any living creatures who might slip past Modgud. I will host no one beyond those I must. If the living want to sneak down here to learn wisdom, they’ll get no joy from me. And any wisdom they glean will be too late, as they won’t return to Midgard to enjoy it.
8. Inside Eljudnir will be one vast, cavernous space, a banquet hall of halls (just without the banquets, of course). I see chandeliers, hearths, tables laden with jugs and rich hangings on the stone walls. On second thoughts, no hangings – they would only rot and the dead won’t appreciate them anyway. That’s where the dead will congregate, on benches stretching into infinity. Those mouldy walls will contain an infinite number of bodies. I will also build a lavish bedchamber just for me, curtained off, where no one may enter. That way, I will host the dead but never have to see them. Oh, and treasure rooms. Lots and lots of treasure rooms. And two High Seats, carved and imposing, befitting a great queen. One for me, should I ever decide to receive guests. And one for my love. Because one night Baldr will come to find me – I know he will. And I must be ready for that night.
No kitchen required, obviously. The mead goat that will provide drink can wander about; the dead aren’t fussy. And, frankly, I don’t care if they are – it’s my hall and I make the rules. I need no food as I don’t have to eat. I just want storerooms for my treasure, and a private bedroom for me. And beyond the hall, stables, ready to receive the horses that have been sacrificed with their masters.
There. My dream home. Not exactly fussy, am I? A gigantic one-bedroom hall with no mod cons.
Perfect.
For a long while I planned and honed my designs, adding a turret here, a palisade there, as I groped my way northwards and downward from Modgud’s bridge, pushing through stinging fog and shrieking winds. Building a palace filled my mind. It is astonishing how much plotting and planning dampens sorrow, like ash poured on fire.
At last, after much wandering, I found a wind-swept plain stretching far off into the gloom in all directions.The air was fetid, and blasting winds blew, and darkness reigned. I had found the spot for my kingdom.
I claimed it for my own.
And then I built my hall, and my kingdom, myself.
I felt power surge through me. I didn’t need masons or carters or
4. My death realm must have high walls; Hel will be a fortress within Niflheim. The ramparts round my kingdom must reach higher than the walls of Asgard. Won’t that make the gods rage with jealousy when they hear of the palace I have created?
5. Within those towering walls I will build a hall. Not just any hall, but the largest hall in all the worlds. One-Eye’s golden palace will look like a privy beside it. (Mine will smell worse than one, but let’s pretend we don’t notice.)
6. I like naming things, and I will call my grave mound Eljudnir . My Rain-Damp, Sleet-Cold Hall. No Rose Palace or Mount Pleasant for me. And I’ll build icy pitch-black portals named Corpse Gate and Carrion Gate . I think I’ve excelled myself with those names. What? Youthink I should have called my lovely entrances Welcome Home and Rest Your Feet? Built a gleaming palace of light and happiness? Ha! I don’t want to entice anyone in under false pretences. ‘If only we’d known the hideous welcome awaiting us in this dismal hall, we’d have gone elsewhere …’
7. Corpse Gate and Carrion Gate, which will lock in the dead forever, must be made of iron, tightly wrought and impassable. I want them oozing, like molton metal, dreadful and oily to the touch. If I can’t stop the dead from swarming in, at least my barred gates will keep out any living creatures who might slip past Modgud. I will host no one beyond those I must. If the living want to sneak down here to learn wisdom, they’ll get no joy from me. And any wisdom they glean will be too late, as they won’t return to Midgard to enjoy it.
8. Inside Eljudnir will be one vast, cavernous space, a banquet hall of halls (just without the banquets, of course). I see chandeliers, hearths, tables laden with jugs and rich hangings on the stone walls. On second thoughts, no hangings – they would only rot and the dead won’t appreciate them anyway. That’s where the dead will congregate, on benches stretching into infinity. Those mouldy walls will contain an infinite number of bodies. I will also build a lavish bedchamber just for me, curtained off, where no one may enter. That way, I will host the dead but never have to see them. Oh, and treasure rooms. Lots and lots of treasure rooms. And two High Seats, carved and imposing, befitting a great queen. One for me, should I ever decide to receive guests. And one for my love. Because one night Baldr will come to find me – I know he will. And I must be ready for that night.
No kitchen required, obviously. The mead goat that will provide drink can wander about; the dead aren’t fussy. And, frankly, I don’t care if they are – it’s my hall and I make the rules. I need no food as I don’t have to eat. I just want storerooms for my treasure, and a private bedroom for me. And beyond the hall, stables, ready to receive the horses that have been sacrificed with their masters.
There. My dream home. Not exactly fussy, am I? A gigantic one-bedroom hall with no mod cons.
Perfect.
For a long while I planned and honed my designs, adding a turret here, a palisade there, as I groped my way northwards and downward from Modgud’s bridge, pushing through stinging fog and shrieking winds. Building a palace filled my mind. It is astonishing how much plotting and planning dampens sorrow, like ash poured on fire.
At last, after much wandering, I found a wind-swept plain stretching far off into the gloom in all directions.The air was fetid, and blasting winds blew, and darkness reigned. I had found the spot for my kingdom.
I claimed it for my own.
And then I built my hall, and my kingdom, myself.
I felt power surge through me. I didn’t need masons or carters or
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