Norraentru

GODS

Balder

Frigg's Tale: A Mother’s Sorrow

I am Frigg, queen of the Æsir, wife of Odin, and mother to many. But today, I speak not as a queen nor as a goddess, but as a mother who has felt the deepest sorrow a heart can endure. This is the story of my beloved son, Balder, the brightest of all the gods.

Balder, my beautiful son, was the light of Asgard. He was strong, tall, and handsome, yet despite his great stature, he was the gentlest soul one could ever meet. Where others wielded their power with force, Balder wielded his with kindness and justice. He was known not for his strength alone, but for the goodness that flowed from him like the rays of the sun. Wherever Balder went, peace followed. Even the most hardened hearts softened in his presence, and conflicts melted away like frost in the morning sun. He was more than just a warrior; he was the embodiment of purity and righteousness.

Yet, beneath his serene exterior, a shadow began to grow. One day, Balder came to me, his usually bright eyes clouded with fear. He spoke of terrible dreams, visions that haunted him night after night. In these dreams, he saw his own death, and with each passing night, the visions grew darker and more vivid. My heart, once filled with the joy of motherhood, was suddenly gripped by a fear so overwhelming that it nearly consumed me. To lose Balder, the very light of my life, was unthinkable. I could not, I would not, let these dreams come to pass.

Driven by the terror of losing him, I set out on a journey unlike any I had ever undertaken. I traveled to every corner of the world, speaking to all that lived and breathed, to the stones and the trees, to the waters and the winds. I begged them, pleaded with them, to swear an oath that they would never harm my son. And they did. From the mightiest beasts to the smallest plants, from the mountains to the seas, all promised that no harm would come to Balder. Yet, in my haste and desperation, I overlooked one thing: the mistletoe. It was so small, so insignificant, that I did not see it as a threat. It was my greatest mistake.

Time passed, and Balder’s dreams continued to trouble him, but with every living and dead thing sworn to protect him, I began to hope that perhaps the danger had been averted. But fate, it seems, cannot be so easily swayed. The fateful day came during one of our gatherings. The gods, unaware of the shadow that loomed over us, took to throwing objects at Balder, marveling at how nothing could harm him. It was a game, a testament to his invincibility—or so we thought.

But then, his brother, Hodr, was led to join the game. Blind and unaware of the mistletoe's deadly power, Hodr was guided by Loki, who placed the fatal dart in his hand. As it flew through the air, time seemed to slow, and I watched in horror as the dart struck Balder. My son, my light, my everything, fell to the ground, lifeless. The silence that followed was more deafening than the loudest roar of thunder.

Odin, my husband, was consumed by a rage unlike any I had ever seen. He could not bear the thought that one of his sons had killed the other. In his fury, he sought vengeance, forcing a mortal woman to bear him a son, **Vali**, who was born for the sole purpose of avenging Balder. Vali grew with unnatural speed, and on the day of his birth, he fulfilled his dark destiny by slaying Hodr, thus avenging Balder’s death. But it brought me no solace, for the son I lost could not be brought back by the spilling of more blood.

It was then that we discovered the true culprit behind this tragedy. Loki, the trickster, had orchestrated it all, weaving his web of deceit and malice. Using the powers of foresight that Odin and I possess, we uncovered Loki’s treachery. He had hidden behind Hodr’s innocence, but his guilt was laid bare before us. Odin, in his wrath, decreed that Loki would be punished for his crime. He was bound with the entrails of his own son, and a venomous serpent was placed above him, its poison dripping onto his face. There he would remain, suffering, until the gods no longer mourned Balder.

The grief that consumed us was too great to bear. Even Nanna, Balder’s devoted wife, could not endure the pain. Her heart, already shattered by the loss of her husband, broke completely. In her despair, she took her own life, following Balder into death. Yet, her soul did not find peace. Without honor, without the blessings of the gods, Nanna was cast into Helheim, the realm of the dead, without the dignity that was once hers.

But even in death, Balder’s goodness shone through. Hel, the ruler of the underworld, moved by his purity, granted him the rare privilege to be remembered. Because of this, Balder is free to move between the nine realms of Helheim, though his heart remains heavy with the burden of his fate.

When Hodr arrived in Helheim, his situation was different. Though he had killed his brother, it was not by his own will, and for that, he was granted a measure of grace. Forseti, Balder’s son, interceded on his behalf, pleading with Hel to show mercy. Hodr was sent to the ninth realm of Helheim, a place reserved for those who died with honor but whose lives were marred by tragedy. Though his spirit was heavy, he carried his honor and integrity with him into the afterlife, and it was this that saved him from the worst of Helheim’s torments.

This is the tale of my son, Balder, and the events that followed his untimely death. It is a story of love and loss, of light extinguished too soon, and of a mother’s grief that will never fade. Though Balder is gone from our world, his memory lives on, and the pain of his loss remains a shadow over Asgard, reminding us all of the fragility of even the brightest light.