The haggard old woman knocked on the door to Frigga’s chambers. The Annual Festival of Games was in full swing, with every god and goddess of Asgard crowding Valhalla with their boisterous shouts and boasts of greatness. The smell of roasting meat and sour ale filled the air in the stone hallway. Frigga, wife to Odin, called wearily for her to enter. The serving woman came in, carrying a bowl of steaming water in shaky hands.
“Put it on the table,” Frigga commanded. Fiery red hair was coiled up on top of her head. There were fine lines etched around her eyes, but she was still a great beauty. She tightened the sash on the silken robe wrapped tightly about her regal form as she sat herself at her vanity. “These festivals tire me so. Thank you. You may leave.”
The old woman hesitated, twisting gnarled hands together. “Your children are so beautiful, my lady. I saw them at the festival today. Thor, Hod, and that Baldur.” Her words were tinged with awe.
Frigga glowed as she dipped a cloth in the water and dabbed at her face. “Yes, I am rather proud of them all.”
The old servant crept closer. “I hear Baldur is invincible. Surely that cannot be!”
Frigga smiled, staring at her reflection in her mirror. “Yes, it is true. Not a living thing in any of the nine realms may harm Baldur.”
“My word, not a living thing?” the servant crowed. “That is something! Not even the mushrooms?”
“Of course not,” Frigga snapped, dabbing harder at her face. “Mushrooms can be quite poisonous.”
“And the wild beasts with claws and fangs?”
Frigga picked up a brush, flicking it through her hair as she dismissed the comment. “Baldur is immune to them all. From the fish in the sea to the serpents in the grass to the deadly berries and hemlock on the vine.”
The old woman clapped her hands with glee. “By the gods, so there is nothing that can harm the boy?”
The queen hesitated, then threw her brush down. “Nothing of consequence. Truth be told, I have not yet spoken to the mistletoe. But there is no danger in mistletoe. Leave me now, woman.”
The servant backed away and shut the door. Outside in the hallway, her shoulders shook with laughter as her arms thickened and legs grew sturdier until Loki, God of Mischief, had shifted into his natural form.
“Let the games begin,” he cackled softly.
The next morning, as the gods and goddesses assembled for the daily games, Loki huddled in the shadows watching and listening as Odin sat on his throne beside his beloved wife Frigga and patted her hand.
“We have done well, my love. Look at how our son is so loved.” For everyone in the great hall found Baldur, son of Odin and Frigga, to be kind and strong and worthy. “But I am troubled by his dreams. He tells me he has foreseen his own death. Such a vision must be heeded.”
Frigga just smiled serenely. “Fear not, husband. I have taken care of the matter.”
Odin frowned. “What do you mean? What have you done, woman?”
She gave a small shrug of her shoulder. “I went to every living creature in all the nine realms and received a promise that none would harm our son.”
Odin stared at her in disbelief then guffawed with laughter. “Truly, wife, you astound me.”
She just smiled, her eyes glowing with pride as she watched the festival.
Odin clapped his hands. “Hear me, gods and goddesses of Asgard. I declare Baldur to be invincible. Let us see any one try and harm him. I will grant the challenger ten pieces of gold the size of my fist for a single scratch.”
Baldur flashed his father a grin and planted his hands on his hips. “Aye, father, I welcome the challenge.”
Up first was Baldur’s big brother, Thor. The blond giant threw his mighty hammer, but the spinning weapon stopped an inch from Baldur’s face and returned to Thor’s hand, refusing to harm Baldur.
After Thor, the gods and goddesses lined up, each tossing their powers at the bold figure, who didn’t even flinch at the barbs and weapons thrown at his head.
“This is boring,” Loki muttered to himself. “Let’s liven things up. Make them interesting.” Moving through the crowd, he searched out Hod, Odin’s youngest offspring. Hod stood in the corner, nursing a glass of mead, looking quite downcast.
“Dear boy, why so glum?” Loki said, slapping him on the back.
Hod’s sightless eyes stared blankly at him. “Have you forgotten I’m blind? If I could see, I would get a lick in on my brother.” Hod grinned wryly. “Odin knows he’s tormented me enough over the years, always pinching me and running off. I wouldn’t mind leaving my mark.”
“No fear, my boy, Loki is here to help. Here,” Loki pressed a thin branch in Hod’s hands. “Follow me, and when I say swing, swing as hard as you can.”
Hod laughed. “This switch will not do much to the mighty Baldur.” But he grinned and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Still, I shall have fun. Lead on.”
Loki made his way through the crowds, leading Hod until they stood just behind the golden-haired warrior.
“Baldur, turn around,” Hod shouted.
The handsome Baldur turned with a grin as Loki faded back into the crowd. “What is it, little brother?”
“Just wanted to get my lick in,” Hod said, and then as Loki called out “now!” he swung the branch at Baldur.
The warrior held up a hand, easily blocking the sprig of mistletoe.
There were roars of laughter. Hod joined in, not minding the teasing.
But Baldur stood frozen, staring at the tiny thorn embedded in his palm.
“What is it, brother?” Hod asked, cocking his head as his keen ears picked up on Baldur’s moan of distress. “Do you not find this funny?”
“I . . . I feel weak,” Baldur said, and he stumbled, falling to his knees.
Hod reached for his brother, grasping his shoulders. “Baldur, what is it?”
“I can’t breathe,” Baldur gasped, and then he collapsed.
Frigga pushed her way through the crowds. “What is it? What has happened?”
“Mother! I am sorry!” Hod cried. “I meant only to have some fun. I hit him with just this sprig.”
He held up the mistletoe branch.
Frigga gasped, paling. “No! Hod, how could you?”
“What have I done?” The poor blind boy looked stricken.
And then Odin was there, laying a hand on Baldur’s forehead. “Baldur, enough of this nonsense, you aren’t even wounded.”
But Baldur lay still. Vacant eyes stared up at the frescoed ceiling.
“He’s dead,” Odin whispered, shock etched into his brow.
“Who did this?” Frigga cried, grabbing Hod by the shoulders. “Who gave you that branch?”
“It was Loki. He meant only for me to have some fun.”
“LOKI!” Odin leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing fire. “Come out, you sniveling worm.”
Loki scurried away, but a battalion of Valkyrie wrestled him to the ground. They hauled him forward, kicking and screaming, “It’s not my fault!” he shouted. “I was just having a bit of fun. How was I to know a tiny thorn would cause such harm?”
But Frigga pointed a finger over Baldur’s still form. “It was you,” she hissed. “You evil shape-shifter. You came into my chambers last night. That serving woman was the only one I told of the mistletoe.”
Loki’s guilt was written all over his face.
Odin’s glare was cold enough to freeze even Loki’s hard heart. “You killed my beloved son. For that, you will die.” He drew the mighty sword at his side, the Sword of Tyrfing, and raised it over his head. He was about to bring it down on Loki when his wife shouted at him.
“Stop!”
Odin froze, the sword clutched over his head.
Frigga sobbed as she held Baldur to her chest. “Death will be too easy and quick for one as evil as Loki. He must be punished. Lock him up for eternity in the darkness of the underworld. Let him be tormented every day with the dripping of water on his chains. Let his children also be punished. Banish them to the farthest reaches of Asgard.”
“No!” Loki screeched. “My children don’t deserve such punishment.”
“Your children are monsters,” Frigga announced. “A menace on the world.”
Odin slowly lowered his sword. “Wife, you are wise. It shall be as you say. The Valkyries will escort Loki to Sinmara’s underworld and chain him there. I will see to securing Loki’s horrible offspring myself. Frey, you will contain his wife, Angerboda, lest her wrath bring down the walls of Valhalla.”
Frey, the sprightly God of the Elves, nodded, his round eyes full of sadness as he studied Baldur’s still form. “I will take her to the black dwarves of Gomara. They will encase her in ice and bury her deep in their mines.”
Odin looked at Loki, hatred and pain etched into his face. “I never want to see or hear from this traitor or any of his family members ever again. I curse him for eternity. Should he ever come in contact with mistletoe, let it bring him unending pain, but not death.”
Loki wrestled against the tight grip of Thor and Tyr. “You will regret this, brother,” he snarled. “One day, I will make you pay. You will lose the things you value the most, the same as you have made me lose those I love.”