The Monstrous Child by Francesca Simon

was not expecting this. I definitely was not expecting this. What was a giantess doing in Niflheim?
    ‘Go away,’ I said. ‘Leave me alone.’
    She did not move.
    I sneaked a peek at her.
    The giantess stood taller than me, but not by much. She looked about my age. But most difficult to take in was that she –
    ‘Are you dead?’ I asked.
    ‘Do I look dead?’ said the girl.
    She looked very alive to me. Positively blooming with health, if you ignored her chalk-white skin, like bleached bones the ravens have pecked dry. Was she a guard One-Eye had set over me? She didn’t appear to have any weapons, but she might have spells.
    ‘Are you lost?’ I asked. Our breath mingled in the murky air.
    The girl snorted.
    ‘I don’t think anyone wanders down here by accident.’ She looked at me curiously.
    ‘You’re not dead, are you?’ she said.
    ‘Half,’ I said.
    ‘You can’t be half,’ said the girl. ‘It’s either/or.’
    I shrugged, flicked aside my robes and showed her mygangrenous legs. She didn’t even flinch. Or wrinkle her nose. That was a first.
    ‘I’ve seen a lot worse,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t believe the state of some of those fateless ones when they arrive. Who were – I mean, who are you?’ She grinned. ‘That’s not a question I’ve ever asked before.’
    ‘I’m queen. I’m supposed to rule here,’ I said. ‘By Odin’s decree.’
    ‘Oh,’ said the maiden. ‘Congratulations?’
    We looked at one another and for some reason we both started to laugh. (I don’t remember laughing since. What do I have to laugh about?) The sound echoed across the murky valley, bouncing back to us from the cliffs and over the roar of the river.
    ‘I’m Hel,’ I said. ‘Queen of the Dead.’ The words sounded unreal in my mouth.
    ‘I’m Modgud,’ said the giantess.
    Modgud means war frenzy . She was a giantess all right. Like I said, who else gives their children such horrible names? She looked about as frenzied as a nut.
    ‘Did the gods throw you down here too?’
    ‘I don’t know any gods,’ she said. ‘Except Blood Mother – I’ve heard of her. I guard the bridge.’
    Guard? That meant she had power. That meant …
    I proceeded carefully.
    ‘Why?’ I asked.
    ‘To keep out the living,’ said Modgud. ‘Only the dead can cross the River Gjoll. I’m the warden of the bridge. I protect the boundary between the living and the dead.’
    What, she expected an invasion of the living to force their way to the Realm of the Dead before their time? Was she mad?
    ‘Why would anyone alive come here ?’ I asked.
    ‘Seeking wisdom,’ said Modgud. ‘Hoping for answers. Trying to learn the secrets only the dead know.’
    More fool them spying and prying.
    I pulled myself to my feet.
    ‘Let me cross.’ My voice shook.
    Modgud stared at me.
    ‘No,’ she said.
    ‘Let me leave,’ I said. ‘Please.’ (The word please stuck in my proud throat, but I had to say it.)
    ‘Everyone wants to leave,’ said Modgud. ‘But you can’t.’
    ‘I order you.’
    ‘Order away,’ said Modgud. ‘Nothing can change.’
    ‘I’ll kill you,’ I said. ‘I will, I’ll kill you.’
    Modgud raised her pale eyebrows. ‘What difference would that make? You still couldn’t leave.’ She looked at me, almost kindly. ‘You’ll get used to it, Hel. Everyone does in the end.’
    I shook my head fiercely.
    We sat silently, lost in the swirling sleet. The only sound was the clashing blocks of ice as they hurtled down the river and the winds that never stopped gusting.
    ‘There’s more dead arriving,’ she said, pointing. ‘Look.’
    Coming down the fog road was a shade in the shapeof a woman. A few cooking pots and a spindle clanked behind her.
    Modgud ran over and took up her post.
    She raised her pale arm, on which no gold bands glittered, and the ghost stopped. She murmured something, then Modgud nodded and stepped aside.
    ‘Pass by.’
    The ghost continued slowly on the downward path leading from