Tales of the Slain: 6-Vigdis

Vigdis came to a stop when she could see the river along the track way. 

Nine nights ago she had died and began her walk to where she knew she must go.

Helheim. The thought of it did not please her. She had died twice before.

Her Blasa, her first death, was when she had stopped being a dweller of Midgard and stopped drawing breath. She had met Modgudr that time and knew that she would meet her again very soon.

Modgudr, the Watcher who waited at the gates to the realm where Hel keeps those who died what some saw as ignoble deaths.
Vigdis was lucky, for with Modgudr that day was another woman, one who would take her to a fair field, where people laughed and where there was joy and merriment and feasting. Folkvangr.

But Vigdis was never satisfied with just relaxing, she needed to feel alive, even after dying. She had found her way to Kvasheim and the thousand meadhalls. There she had met others and they traded stories and gone on adventures and she had died her second death.

Her Dauthi. And so she had come to the gates of Helheim a second time. There was no one there to take her to Folkvangr that time, but Modgudr had offered her a deal.

But now she had died her third time and she knew what to expect, the pain that was to come, the loss she would suffer in some manner.

She walked along the path to the sound of the rushing and noisy river. At the bank of it where the water began and the path ended a great and wide bridge spanned the river, and there in the middle of the bridge stood Modgudr.

 

She was frosted by the spray of the noisy river and barely visible as the night began to fall. She waited there for Vigdis to cross half way across the river to her before holding up a hand.
"Travel no further Vigdis.. Tell me the tale of how you come to be here this night and i shall determine if you are worthy and unworthy enough to take another step past me.." Her voice was cold, her skin pale enough to make many think she might be one of the Jotnar who became Draugr. Weapons hung about her waist like a Mundspilli's battleskirt and each jangled or clamoured when she moved.

Vigdis sat on the bridge in front of Modgudr and begun to tell of how she'd died for a third time.

"Well, it all started when Kvasir passed his mead to Bjorn, who gave it to Kenna, who gave it to Agni who gave it to me..."