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The moral combat was no mock one, no Valhalla, where warriors are cut to pieces by day and feast by night; but a grim death struggle in which what is worse than death namely, spiritual death inevitably awaited the vanquished of Muspel.... By what means could he hold back from this horrible war!
Forward, all Hereward's men!" And he rushed out upon his fate. No man followed him, save Winter. The rest, disperst, unarmed, were running hither and thither helplessly. "Brothers in arms, and brothers in Valhalla!" shouted Winter as he rushed after him. A knight was running to and fro in the Court, shouting Hereward's name. "Where is the villain? Wake! We have caught thee asleep at last."
Alan had been gone a year; he was past eighteen, now, a little heavier, a little stronger. Very little of the wide-eyed boy who had stepped off the Valhalla the year before remained intact. He had changed inwardly. But one part of him had not changed, except in the direction of greater determination. That was the part that hoped to unlock the secret of faster-than-light travel.
But dear me! there is always a "but" about everything how was it all to end? And where was the Valhalla? Except for these two questions, which would keep on running through Tom's and Frank's minds, they could have been quite contented well, for a time at all events.
His own power being broken, and the power that lay in the ring being again in the hands of the innocent Rhine-maidens, there is nothing to control Loge, who blazes up in sheets of fire, and Valhalla is consumed, while the Rhine maidens swim joyfully about in the bubbling, roaring Rhine.
But to the dweller in the North, heat brings with it sensations of joy and comfort, and life without fire has a dreary outlook; so their Hel ruled in a cold region over those who were cowards by implication, while the mead-cup went round, and huge logs blazed and crackled in Valhalla, for the brave and beautiful who had dared to die on the field of battle.
"He's not here, Dad. And he's not coming back," he said in a hesitant voice. And then he had had to explain to his father the whole story of his unruly, aggressive twin brother's plan to jump ship and how Steve had tried to persuade him to leave the Valhalla too.
My son shall live as a mortal amongst mortals. Sigi his name shall be. From him shall spring heroes who will fill Valhalla, my own hall in Asgard, with heroes against the day of our strife with the Giants and with Surtur of the Flaming Sword."
But the boy Bernhard, on Irma's knee, folded by her soft arm, grew restless as the story lengthened, and began to prattle softly at his mother's ear. "Mother," whispered the child, "why did you cry out so loud, when the priest was going to send me to Valhalla?" "Oh, hush, my child," answered the mother, and pressed him closer to her side.
Anything but this! Never to see Valhalla? Never to ride with the Walkuere? Father! Father! Take back these words of doom!" Brunhilde's sisters began to plead for her. "Go!" he cried, "every one of you. Leave Brunhilde to me!" Frightened by great Wotan's awful wrath, they spurred their horses and dashed away to Valhalla. Slowly the storm clouds drifted away. The twilight came.
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