The myth of Loki and the deadly mistletoe Iseult Gillespie
Baldur— son of All Father Odin
and Queen Frigg,
husband of Nanna the Peaceful,
and God of truth and light—
was the gentlest and most beloved being
in all of Asgard.
In his great hall of Breidablik,
Baldur’s soothing presence
eased his subject’s woes.
But lately, he was plagued
by troubles of his own.
Every night, Baldur had gruesome visions
foretelling his own imminent death.
Determined to protect her son
from these grim prophecies,
Queen Frigg travelled
across the nine realms,
begging all living things
not to harm Baldur.
Her grace moved each being
she encountered.
Every animal and element, every plague
and plant, every blade and bug
gladly gave their word.
Frigg returned to Breidablik,
and threw a great feast to celebrate.
Wine flowed freely, and soon the gods
took turns testing Baldur’s immunity.
Lurking in the corner,
Loki rolled his eyes.
The trickster god had never cared
for Baldur the Bright,
and found his new gift
profoundly irritating.
Surely there was a flaw in Frigg’s plan.
Taking the form of an old woman,
Loki crept to Frigg’s side
and feigned confusion.
Why were the gods attacking sweet Baldur,
whom they all loved so dearly?
Frigg told her of the oaths,
but the old woman pressed on.
Surely you didn’t receive a vow
from everything, she asked.
Frigg shrugged.
The only being she hadn’t visited
was mistletoe.
After all, what god could fear
a trifling weed?
At this, Loki dashed outside
to find a sprig of mistletoe.
When he returned, the festivities
had grown even rowdier.
But not every god was enjoying the party.
Baldur’s brother Hodur, who was blind
and weapon-less, sat dejected.
Seeing his opportunity,
the trickster slyly offered
Hodur a chance to participate.
Loki armed him with mistletoe,
guided his aim towards his brother,
and told Hodur to hurl with all his might.
The mistletoe pierced Baldur’s chest
with deadly force.
The god’s light quickly flickered out,
and despair swept over the crowd.
Within moments, the impact
of Baldur’s death could be felt
across the nine realms.
But from the weeping masses,
Hermod the Brave stepped forward.
The warrior god believed that with
the help of Odin’s mighty steed,
there was no plane he could not reach.
He would travel to halls of Hel herself,
and bring Baldur home.
The god rode for nine days
and nine nights,
past halls of corpses
and over paths paved with bone.
When he finally reached
the Queen of the Underworld,
Hermod begged her to return
Baldur to his family.
Hel considered taking pity, but she wanted
to know the extent of the gods’ mourning.
She agreed to relinquish Baldur’s soul—
if Hermod could prove that every
living thing wept at Baldur’s death.
Hermod shot back
to the land of the living.
He met with every creature
that Frigg visited earlier—
all of which cried for Baldur
and begged for his return.
Meanwhile, Loki watched Hermod’s
mission with disdain.
He would not let his work
be so easily undone,
but if he interfered too boldly it might
reveal his hand in Baldur’s murder.
Disguising himself as a ferocious giant,
he hid himself at Hermod’s final stop.
When the warrior came,
the howling wind and craggy rocks
each declared their love for Baldur.
But the giant within spewed only contempt
for the deceased.
No matter how much Hermod begged,
she would not shed a single tear.
With his last hope dashed, the god began
to mourn Baldur a second time.
But an echo from the cave
rang out above his sobs.
Loki’s twisted cackle was well-known
to every Asgardian,
and Hermod realized he’d been tricked.
As he leapt to accost the trickster,
Loki took the form of a salmon
and wriggled into the waterfall.
His escape was guaranteed,
until Thor arrived at the scene.
Dragging Loki back to the cave, the gods
bound him with a poisonous serpent.
Here, Loki would remain chained
until the end of days—
the serpent dripping venom
on his brow as punishment
for dousing Asgard’s brightest light.