Balder could bear the burden no longer.  He went out, called all the gods together, and told them the terrible dreams of the night.  Every face was heavy with care.  The death of Balder would be like the going out of the sun, and after a long, sad council the gods resolved to protect him from harm by pledging all things to stand between him and any hurt.  So Frigg, his mother, went forth and made everything promise, on a solemn oath, not to injure her son.  Fire, iron, all kinds of metal, every sort of stone, trees, earth, diseases, birds, beasts, snakes, as the anxious mother went to them, solemnly pledged themselves that no harm should come near Balder.  Everything promised, and Frigg thought she had driven away the cloud; but fate was stronger than her love, and one little shrub had not sworn.

Odin was not satisfied even with these precautions, for whichever way he looked the shadow of a great sorrow spread over the worlds.  He began to feel as if he were no longer the greatest of the gods, and he could almost hear the rough shouts of the frost giants crowding the rainbow bridge on their way into Asgard.  When trouble comes to men it is hard to bear, but to a god who had so many worlds to guide and rule it was a new and terrible thing.  Odin thought and thought until he was weary, but no gleam of light could he find anywhere; it was thick darkness everywhere.

At last he could bear the suspense no longer, and saddling his horse he rode sadly out of Asgard to Niflheim, the home of Hel, whose face was as the face of death itself.  As he drew near the gates, a monstrous dog came out and barked furiously, but Odin rode a little eastward of the shadowy gates to the grave of a wonderful prophetess.  It was a cold, gloomy place, and the soul of the great god was pierced with a feeling of hopeless sorrow as he dismounted from Sleipner, and bending over the grave began to chant weird songs, and weave magical charms over it.  When he had spoken those wonderful words which could waken the dead from their sleep, there was an awful silence for a moment, and then a faint ghost-like voice came from the grave.

“Who art thou?” it said.  “Who breaketh the silence of death, and calleth the sleeper out of her long slumbers?  Ages ago I was laid at rest here, snow and rain have fallen upon me through myriad years; why dost thou disturb me?”

“I am Vegtam,” answered Odin, “and I come to ask why the couches of Hel are hung with gold and the benches strewn with shining rings?”

“It is done for Balder,” answered the awful voice; “ask me no more.”

Odin’s heart sank when he heard these words; but he was determined to know the worst.

“I will ask thee until I know all.  Who shall strike the fatal blow?”

“If I must, I must,” moaned the prophetess.  “Hoder shall smite his brother Balder and send him down to the dark home of Hel.  The mead is already brewed for Balder, and the despair draweth near.”