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Adventure XIII
The Story of Balder.
There was mirth in King Gunther's dwelling, for the time of
the Yule-feast had come. The broad banquet hall was gayly
decked with cedar and spruce and sprigs of the mistletoe;
and the fires roared in the great chimneys, throwing warmth
and a ruddy glow of light into every corner of the room. The
long table fairly groaned under its weight of good cheer. At
its head sat the kings and the earl-folk; and before them,
on a silver platter of rare workmanship, was the head of a
huge wild boar,--the festal offering to the good Frey, in
honor of whom the Yule-feast was held. For now the sun,
which had been driven by the Frost-giants far away towards
the South-land, had begun to return, and Frey was on his way
once more to scatter peace and plenty over the land.
The harp and the wassail-bowl went round; and each one of
the company sang a song, or told a story, or in some way did
his part to add to the evening's enjoyment. And a young
sea-king who sat at Siegfried's side told most bewitching
tales of other lands which lie beyond Old AEgir's kingdom.
Then, when the harp came to him, he sang the wondrous song
of the shaping of the earth. And all who heard were charmed
with the sweet sound and with the pleasant words. He sang of
the sunlight and the south winds and the summer-time, of the
storms and the snow and the sombre shadows of the
North-land. And he sang of the dead Ymir, the giant whose
flesh had made the solid earth, and whose blood the sea, and
whose bones the mountains, whose teeth the cliffs and crags,
and whose skull the heavens. And he sang of Odin, the
earth's preserver, the Giver of life, the Father of all; and
of the Asa-folk who dwell in Asgard; and of the ghostly
heroes in Valhal. Then he sang of the heaven-tower of the
thunder-god, and of the shimmering Asa-bridge, or rainbow,
all afire; and, lastly, of the four dwarfs who hold the blue
sky-dome above them, and of the elves of the mountains, and
of the wood-sprites and the fairies. Then he laid aside his
harp, and told the old but ever-beautiful story of the death
of Balder the Good.
The Story.
Balder, as you know, was Odin's son; and he was the
brightest and best of all the Asa-folk. Wherever he went,
there were gladness and light-hearted mirth, and blooming
flowers, and singing birds, and murmuring waterfalls.
Balder, too, was a hero, but not one of the blustering kind,
like Thor. He slew no giants; he never went into battle; he
never tried to make for himself a name among the dwellers of
the mid-world; and yet he was a hero of the noblest type. He
dared to do right, and to stand up for the good, the true,
and the beautiful. There are still some such heroes, but the
world does not always hear of them.
Hoder, the blind king of the winter months, was Balder's
brother, and as unlike him as darkness is unlike daylight.
While one rejoiced, and was merry and cheerful, the other
was low-spirited and sad. While one scattered sunshine and
blessings everywhere, the other carried with him a sense of
cheerlessness and gloom. Yet the brothers loved each other
dearly.
One night Balder dreamed a strange dream, and when he awoke
he could not forget it. All day long he was thoughtful and
sad, and he was not his own bright, happy self. His mother,
the Asa-queen, saw that something troubled him; and she
asked,--
"Whence comes that cloud upon your brow? Will you suffer it
to chase away all your sunshine? and will you become, like
your brother Hoder, all frowns and sighs and tears?"
Then Balder told her what he had dreamed; and she, too, was
sorely troubled, for it was a frightful dream, and foreboded
dire disasters. Then both she and Balder went to Odin, and
to him they told the cause of their uneasiness. And the
All-Father also was distressed; for he knew that such
dreams, dreamed by Asa-folk, were the forewarnings of evil.
So he saddled his eight-footed steed Sleipner; and, without
telling any one where he was going, he rode with the speed
of the winds down into the Valley of Death. The dog that
guards the gateway to that dark and doleful land came out to
meet him. Blood was on the fierce beast's breast, and he
barked loudly and angrily at the All-Father and his wondrous
horse. But Odin sang sweet magic songs as he drew near; and
the dog was charmed with the sound, and Sleipner and his
rider went onward in safety. And they passed the dark halls
of the pale-faced queen, and came to the east gate of the
valley. There stood the low hut of a witch who lived in
darkness, and, like the Norns, spun the thread of fate for
gods and men.
Odin stood before the hut, and sang a wondrous song of
witchery and enchantment; and he laid a spell upon the weird
woman, and forced her to come out of her dark dwelling, and
to answer his questions.
"Who is this stranger?" asked the witch. "Who is this
unknown who calls me from my narrow home, and sets an
irksome task for me? Long have I been left alone in my quiet
house; nor recked I that the snow sometimes covered with its
cold white mantle both me and my resting-place, or that the
pattering rain and the gently falling dew often moistened
the roof of my dwelling. Long have I rested quietly, and I
do not wish now to be aroused."
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