But then Balder began to be haunted by bad dreams. This worried the other Aesir greatly, for they feared that the dreams foreboded evil for him. And they could not take steps to protect him unless they knew what the dreams meant. They met in council at Yggdrasil’s foot, and there it was decided that Odin himself must go to the grave of a volva, a wise woman who had long been dead. He must bring her back by his magic and force her to reveal what Balder’s dreams meant.

  In the blackness of night Odin rode to the burial mound of the volva. He sang a magic chant and her ghost rose moaning and groaning from the hollow ground. Wearily she spoke: “Balder’s days are numbered. He! has already prepared a seat for him in her dark world.” And she sank back into her grave.

  With a sad heart Odin rode home to Asgard and told the Aesir there was nothing they could do; Balder would soon be leaving for Hel. But Frigg, Balder’s mother, refused to give up hope. She went out into the world and made all things, living and lifeless, promise not to harm her son. Water, fire, stones, and metals, diseases, plants, and trees, and all the animals gave her their pledges. Joyfully Frigg returned to Asgard, and the Aesir were happy again. Now nothing evil could happen to their beloved Balder.

  The Aesir were so sure of it that they playfully formed a ring around Balder and pelted him with pebbles, rocks, spears, and axes—they even shot arrows at him! All fell harmlessly at his feet, and Balder stood smiling as if he had been showered with flowers. It was a marvelous game and the Aesir laughed and enjoyed themselves. But not Loki. Jealousy gnawed at his evil heart. He sneaked away, disguised himself as an old crone, hobbled up to Frigg, and said, “How wonderfully well you have protected your son. But are you sure that everything in the world has promised not to harm him?”

  “I am quite sure,” Frigg replied. “Everything except the little mistletoe. It is so small and soft that I didn’t bother to take it in oath.”

  “Aha, this will be Balder’s undoing,” Loki thought as he hobbled away in a hurry. He quickly found a mistletoe plant and made a sharp arrow from one of its twigs. Then he returned to the Aesir, who were still at play around Balder.

  Hod, Balder’s blind brother, stood aside by himself. “Why don’t you take part in the game?’’ Loki asked him.

  “How can I?” answered Hod. “I cannot see where Balder stands. Besides I have no weapon.”

  “Here,” said Loki, “take my bow and arrow and I shall guide your aim.” With Loki’s help, Hod pulled the bowstring and listened for the soft sound of the arrow falling to the ground. Instead he heard a dull thud and a cry of anguish from all the Aesir. Never had an arrow found its mark so well; the little twig had pierced Balder’s heart.

  In horror the Aesir turned and stared at Hod, who was again standing by himself, for Loki had hurried away. Their arms fell limply to their sides and they wept. How could their world survive without gentle Balder.

  At last the Aesir pulled themselves together and began to prepare a stately funeral for Balder aboard his great ship. With their heads bowed low they carried him down to the shore where the ship lay beached. All the gods and goddesses, all the elves and dwarfs, even some trolls and jotuns, came to bid Balder a last farewell. Only Loki was nowhere to be seen.

  They built a pyre under the mast and covered it with Balder’s treasures. But when they tried to launch the ship, it stood as if it were nailed to the ground. No one could budge it, not even Thor. They had to send to Jotunheim for the ogress Hyrrokkin.

  She came at once, riding on a wild wolf with a serpent for a bridle, and she gave the ship such a hard shove that sparks flew from the rollers and all the land trembled. Once the ship was afloat, Balder’s body was placed on the pyre. When Nanna, his wife, saw this, her heart broke and she died; she could not live without him. So the Aesir sadly laid her down at her husband’s side.

  Then Odin took off his golden armlet, put it on Balder’s chest as a parting gift, and lit the pyre. Thor swung his hammer three times over the fire and blessed it. The ropes were cut and the flaming ship drifted out to sea with Odin’s black ravens fluttering about the mast. Aegir’s daughters tossed high their white scarves of sea foam, and everyone wept for Balder as the ship sank down to Hel.

  Odin’s sorrow was great, but Frigg’s was greater still, for she blamed herself. Why had she neglected the weak little mistletoe? And was there no way to undo her carelessness?

  “Who wants to win my everlasting love?” she asked the sons of Odin. “Who dares to travel the dark road to Hel and beg her to let Balder return?”

  Odin’s son Hermod, who had great courage, stepped forward and said that he would travel the road to Hel. So they saddled Odin’s horse Sleipnir for him and he galloped away. For nine days and nights he rode across dismal swamps and through haunted valleys. On the ninth night he came to a bridge paved with gold which spanned an icy river coming from Niflheim. It was a bridge that only dead men on their way to Hel must cross. Without fear, Hermod started across it, but its guardian, a giantess sitting on the other bank, challenged him.

  “Who makes my bridge ring so loudly?” she cried. “A hundred dead horsemen make less din than your steed. You are not a dead man; the color in your cheeks gives you away!” She rose to stop him.

  “I am Hermod, son of Odin. l am on my way to Hel to seek my brother Balder,” he shouted back.

  “Pass, then,” said the giantess. “I saw your fair brother crossing the bridge. The way to Hel is down and north,” she added, pointing the way, for even she was grieving for Balder.

  Hermod followed the road which soon led him to the gate of Bel’s realm. There the fearful dog Garm stood snarling and straining at his leash, but Hermod spurred his horse and Sleipnir leapt high over the gate. At the doorstep he dismounted and walked into the hall of Hel.

  Stony-faced and dreadful to behold, Hel sat on her throne. Across from her sat Balder, with Nanna at his side. She had a wreath of wilted flowers on her head, and a horn of sweet mead stood before them, untouched. They sat without stirring, as if in a dream.

  Hermod greeted Hel and began to speak. For a whole night he pleaded with her to let Balder go. He told her how much the Aesir grieved over their loss and how all nature was weeping for him. At last she rose from her throne, and the gold that entwined her huge body flared like flames as she spoke. “If it be true that Balder is so beloved that all things, living and lifeless, weep for him, I will let him return to the living. But if there is one thing that will not weep, then he must remain with me,” she said.

  Hermod prepared to leave, and Balder rose and led him through the door. He thanked Hermod for coming such a long way. Then he gave him Draupnir, the golden armlet, and asked him to take it back to Odin, because only the living have need of gold.

  Hermod rode back to Asgard as fast as Sleipnir could carry him and Hel’s words brought new hope to the Aesir. They had no doubt that all things in the world would join them in weeping for Balder, and Frigg at once sent messengers to tell all things to weep Balder out of Hel.

  Every creature and every thing wept—men and women, beasts, birds, trees, flowers, stones, metals—everything living and lifeless shed tears for Balder.

  But as the messengers were returning to Asgard, they came upon an old crone sitting all alone in a cave. When asked to weep, she refused to shed a single tear, but rasped, “Never has Balder done anything for me. Let Hel keep what she has.” She called herself Thokk, but she was really Loki in disguise.

  And so Balder had to remain in the dark realm of Hel. There he was soon joined by Hod, for, after the rules of the Aesir, life must be paid with life. Vali, Odin’s youngest son, avenged Balder’s death and sent Hod to Hel.

  Loki’s Punishment

  LIFE DID, after all, go on without Balder. Time passed and once again it was the day of Aegir’s feast. All the gods and goddesses went to his hall, and many of the elves. Only Thor was missing; he was off fighting jotuns and trolls.

  Aegir had outdone himself preparing the feast. More gold than ever blazed on the hearth, the drinking horns rolled up and down the table, and Aegir’s two servants plied every guest with more food than he could eat. Everyone was having a good time; they had nothing but nice words for each other and high praise for the host and for his servants. Loki was again filled with jealousy. No one was saying kind things to him or listening to his witty words. At last in a wild fury he jumped on one of the servants and killed him.

  Angrily the Aesir rose. They could not harm him, since Odin’s presence made the hall a sacred place. Besides he was Odin’s blood brother. But they chased him out. In a huff, Loki slunk around outside the hall, listening to the talk inside. The gods were again praising each other, but not one nice word did he hear about himself. Full of spite, he went back inside, walked straight up to Odin, and asked to be served.

  “Dear brother Odin,” he sneered, “have you forgotten that at the beginning of time we vowed never to accept a favor not also offered to the other? Now, who is offering me a horn filled with beer?”

  His head bent low, Odin told one of his sons to offer a horn to Loki. Loki emptied it, and that made him bolder still. He heaped abuse on the Aesir and did not spare the goddesses, either, and when Odin tried to silence him, he turned on him.

  “Odin,” he shouted, “you are neither as great nor as wise as you try to make us believe. Many a time I have seen you give victory to the lesser man because he flattered you.”

  “Loki, be silent,” said Odin. “I have seen you playing the part of females. Who but Loki is the mother of my horse Sleipnir?”

  There was no insult greater than saying that a man had played the part of a female. Loki turned pale but quickly paid Odin back. “And I remember when you flew about in the company of witches and practiced black magic,” he shouted.

  “Keep quiet, you two,” said Frigg. “These things belong to the past and should be left alone.”

  At that Loki turned on Frigg and spat out, “I shall tell you more about the past. Had it not been for me your dear son Balder would have been here with you today. It was I who found out about the mistletoe, I gave Hod his arrow and aimed it, and who do you think was the crone who refused to weep him out of Hel?” Then he turned on the others and screamed at each in turn, not omitting Sif and her husband Thor, who was not there. In his rage he forgot that Thor would appear whenever he was mentioned by name. Immediately there was a rumble and a peal of thunder, and Thor stood in the doorway, hammer in hand. The only thing that Loki feared was Thor’s hammer, so he quickly turned to leave, but not before he had taunted Thor, too.

  “Mighty Thor,” he jeered, “you were not so mighty the night you slept in the jotun’s mitt,” then he slipped out before Thor could throw his hammer. “Aegir” he called back over his shoulder, “never again shall you feast the Aesir; fire shall devour all that you own.” And he ran off into the faraway mountains to hide.

  “Now the cup is full,” the Aesir cried. “Loki must be punished.”

  To find his hiding place, Odin mounted his High Seat, the Lidskjalf, and looked over the world. Far in the distance, beside a waterfall, a strange little house with an open door on every side caught his eye. He looked closely, and saw Loki sitting inside by a fire, tying strings into loops and knots.

  The Aesir stormed off to catch him, but Loki was keeping watch through the four open doors and saw them coming. He threw what he was making into the fire, jumped into the waterfall, and changed himself into a salmon. “They will never catch me on their hook,” he sniggered. Loki did not worry about being caught in a net because no one had ever made one as yet. Indeed that was the thing he had been inventing, and he had just burned it.

  But this time Loki was caught by his own cleverness. For when the Aesir saw the traces of the net in the ashes they understood that this was a device for catching fish and made one for themselves. They threw it into the waterfall and dragged it downstream. But Loki, the salmon, slid in among the boulders at the bottom of the river and laughed as the net passed over him.

  “We’ll catch him yet,” said the Aesir. “Let us put some bark on top of the net to make it float, and stones to weigh down its bottom. Then we will drag it down to the sea while Thor wades behind it.”

  In this way Loki was chased all the way down to the open sea. There whales and sharks and sea monsters lay watching for fish to catch and devour, so Loki turned to swim upstream again. He made a desperate leap over the top of the net, but Thor’s hand shot out and caught him by his slippery tail.

  Now the Aesir showed no mercy. They squeezed Loki back into his true shape and took him to a dark and dismal cave. They placed him across three sharp ledges, bound him securely, and hung a poisonous serpent over his head so that its venom dripped down on his face. There they left Loki to lie and suffer.

  Sigunn, his loyal wife, stood by him and tried to ease his pain. She would catch the venom in a cup, but when the cup was full, she had to empty it. Then the poison dripping on Loki’s face made him squirm and tear so hard at his fetters that the whole world trembled. Men on Midgard would pray to be saved from the earthquake, but on Asgard the Aesir would think of Balder and turn away with grim faces.

  Ragnarokk, the Destiny of the Gods

  YGGDRASIL, the world tree, trembled and its evergreen leaves began to wilt. Odin was deeply worried. Once again he, the father of gods and men, had broken his sacred word. He had allowed the Aesir to lay hands on Loki; for even though Loki was evil, he was his foster brother, and they had sworn eternal kinship. The world of the Aesir was built on honor, and with honor gone, the Aesir were no longer high and holy. Their world was falling apart.

  In deep gloom Odin went to the grave of the wise woman, the volva, and to the head of Mimir, and asked for advice. But all he could hear was: “Ax time, sword time, ere the world fall; wind time, wolf time! Do you know more now or not?”

  Then Odin knew that Ragnarokk, the day of reckoning when the destiny of the gods would be decided, was fast approaching. Soon the Aesir must face the forces of destruction and win over them, or be themselves destroyed.

  There was no more kindness among gods or men since gentle Balder had passed over to the gloomy realm of Hel. Brother could no longer trust brother. In their lust for gold men stole from each other and killed each other, and bloody wars raged all over the earth. Odin and his Valkyries rushed from battlefield to battlefield to gather as many heroes as they could to fight in the last battle. Even the vast hall of Valhalla was getting crowded.

  Thor was as busy as his father, forever on the go, fighting jotuns and trolls. For the monsters were getting bolder, drawing ever closer, pelting the world with snow and ice. Their frosty breath spread an icy fog over the earth, shutting out the warm rays of the sun.

  And a winter came that lasted for three years. Deep snow covered the ground; nothing could sprout, nothing could grow. Men no longer fought for gold, but for food, and Hel’s hall was filled to bursting with all those who had died of starvation.

  Then, early one morning, long before daybreak, the golden cock of Asgard stretched out his neck and crowed loudly. An answer came echoing up through the ground from the soot-black cock that perched on the roof of Hel’s hall. The day of Ragnarokk had come

  The earth split open, all the way to the world of the dead, and all the bonds of the world broke with a twang. Garm, the hound of Hel, leapt free from his leash, Fenris the wolf shook off his magic fetter, and Loki rose free from his ledge. No longer was anyone bound by anything.

  In deepest Niflheim, the dragon Nidhogg gnawed and gnawed at the root of the world tree. Yggdrasil trembled and groaned and lost all its leaves. “Woe,” cried the Norns at the foot of the tree. They covered their faces and stopped spinning the threads of life.

  From his watch on top of the rainbow Heimdall now saw enemies coming from all directions. He lifted high his horn and blew with all his might. The blasts of the Gjallarhorn shrilled through all worlds, and the Aesir leapt to their feet and donned their battle gear. Valhalla’s many doors sprang open and out rushed Odin’s vast army of heroes. loud battle cries they fell into formation behind Odin.

  The huge army of gods and heroes marched through the gates of Asgard. First came Odin on his eight-legged steed, his single eye gleaming like the sun. At his side strode Thor with enormous steps. He swung his hammer and gnashed his teeth as his eyes fell on the welter of jotuns and many-headed trolls rolling down from the east.

  From the frothing sea the Midgard’s Serpent slithered up on land. There he was met by his brother Fenris. By now the wolf was so enormous that his gaping jaws touched the earth and the vault of the sky; and had there been room his jaws would have gaped wider still. Side by side the two dreadful monsters pushed forward.

  Out of the north came a ghoulish ship, the Nagelfar. Its sides were covered with clippings of finger- and toenails, and it was manned by a crew of ghosts. Standing at the rudder and sailing the ship straight through the raging sea was Loki, coming back for revenge.

  The din of the monsters was so loud that the vault of the sky split open. Through the crack burst Surt, ruler of Muspelheim, the world of fire. He swung his flaming sword, and it set fire to everything it touched as he rushed toward the rainbow bridge. Behind him surged his warriors, horde upon horde of fire demons, all set upon conquering Asgard. But when they stormed the shimmering bridge it broke and fell.