« Send me ‘I want the K’ and I’ll generate a number: 16 Upside Down kiss
"Mind explaining how a hunter landed himself in a hunter’s trap?" Hela’s voice was far more amused than Hodr wanted to hear in his current predicament. He grunted, arms crossed over his chest.
Hela only hummed breathlessly, bent over the thick knot that kept the ankle trap in place. Her fingers were not used to fighting through such thick rope, so the hunting god was impatiently trying to lever himself up to the rope caught around his leg. With each failed attempt, he flopped back, swinging around in a circle. This caused the ground knot to tighten, and broke her concentration. Now she growled, “Stop that wriggling.”
"I’m hanging from a damn tree, with blood pounding my brain to mush. I think I reserve the right to ‘wriggle’!"
"Then maybe you shouldn’t leave these traps unattended so long you forget about them!" She snapped in reply, hunkered down in a very undignified fashion for a goddess. Leaves overhead rasped, shivered, then died at her annoyance, raining down.
These promptly landed in Hodr’s mouth, open in order to yell back. He sputtered, and it was too much. She burst out into a rattling laugh.
He spat them out. “You are not helping.”
"Of course I am. I’m just no good with knots. I’m not a sailor."
"Then why do you have that damn boat of yours?"
"Ship. And it’s for my father."
"Great birthday present there. ‘Hey father! I have a ship made out of nails for you!’ Why is it that Jotnar always give such odd gifts?"
Hela sighed, standing up and popping her back. She turned to face the angry god, bobbing comically in front of her. His face was level with her own, hair trailing down in a tangle below. “Yes, because a gift of a single thick-soled shoe or mead made from a dead man’s blood is by far a more suitable gift.”
Hodr made a noncommittal noise.
Hela rolled her good eye. “I can’t untie this knot. Did you bring a skinning knife?”
"Of course. Here." He once again tried to swing upwards, but evidently was too tired. Cursing, he tried again, only to swing wildly, forcing the death goddess to duck.
"Agh. Wait a moment." She reached up and snagged a flailing arm, bringing his pendulum movement to a halt. Panting, she looked up, but his belt was far out of reach. "You couldn’t find a shorter tree, could you?"
Perhaps unused to hearing her exclaim anything remotely like ‘agh’, Hodr was more subdued when he replied. “It keeps it from getting damaged by falling branches the higher it is.”
"Well it is a splendid trap, obviously."
"Twist the knife deeper, why don’t you?"
"Maybe when I can reach it, Hodr." She gazed up at it, then steeled herself, feeling the cold and death in the rotting mast beneath her feet lend her strength. "Okay, I need you to hold my rotting shoulder so you don’t swing away, and I can prop you up a little, okay? You’ll have to reach from there."
He nodded, frowning, and reached blindly out, first grabbing the top of her head, softening his grip to release her hair and slid down to her shoulder. Her back to him, she reached back with her good hand and propped his shoulders up onto her own.
Inhaling deeply, she heaved with her legs, pushing him upwards. One arm still holding tight to her, the other reached up towards his belt. It took several tries, by which time Hel was panting with exertion and doubting this plan. For all his pride it might just be easier to call on someone else to aid him. Someone taller at least.
But then a knife was hanging in front of her face, callused fingers holding the blade safely. The setting sun reflected along the bright steel.
As she took it, Hodr mumbled, “If you could do that again, and just help me reach my legs, I could probably pull myself up and just untie the rope around my ankle…”
"I don’t think I’m strong enough for that," she said, catching her breath. Then added with a slight smirk, "I could always wait until winter though. I’m much stronger then, and could easily pull you and the entire tree down."
"Hel…" he growled in warning.
"I wouldn’t do that, and you know it. No matter how fine an ornamentation you make." With surprising mirth she laughed, pressed her mouth to his startled, upside-down one, then said, "Now let me get to cutting this rope. I’m much better with knives than knots. It’s even in one of my names."
"Isn’t that the name people give you when you’re feeling slightly…"
There was a thud and a groan as he landed on the ground.
"…Capricious?" he finished with a sigh, flat on his back and covered in dead leaves.
Standing over him, cut rope in hand, Hel gave a gentle tug. “Come on. Let’s get you into some clean clothes at least. Wouldn’t want to send you back to Asgard looking like a wood spirit.” She helped him up and they both started walking. “I think I have some old tunics of Ullr’s… they might be short on you, but it’s something.”
"You act oddly in spring, you know."
She shrugged. “I’m a conflicted sort.”
