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