“Alas!” said poor Hoder, “I am left out of all the sports of the gods.  How can I, with my sightless eyes, tell where Balder is?  And you see that I have nothing in my hand.  What, then, could I throw?”

“I have here a little dart that I will give you,” replied Loki.  “And since you cannot direct your aim, I will guide your arm.”

Joyfully Hoder thanked him, and when Loki indicated the direction in which he was to throw, he hurled the dart with all his might.  Unswervingly flew the mistletoe dart, and instead of falling at Balder’s feet, it lodged in his heart, so that he fell dead on the grass.

Then, instead of the laughter which Hoder waited to hear, there went up a shuddering wail of terror; and angry hands seized Hoder and angry voices were in his ear.

“What have I done?” he pleaded.  “I but wished to show honor to Balder as the rest have done.”

“And you have killed him!” they cried.  “You shall die yourself.”

“Peace!  Peace!” said Heimdal.  “Such a deed of violence must not stain the home of the gods.  Moreover, Hoder did it all unwittingly.  It was Loki who directed his aim, and we are all to blame that we allowed him to set foot on our playground.”

Bitter indeed was Hoder’s grief, and he implored his heart-broken mother, Frigga, that he might be allowed to take Balder’s place in dark Hela’s realm.

“Not you alone,” she replied, “but any of the gods, would willingly die for Balder.  But not in that way can he be brought back to Asgard.  There is one chance—­speak to Hermod, fleetest of the gods; tell him to take Odin’s horse, Sleipnir, and ride to Hela’s abode.  Perchance, if he entreat her, she may give Balder up.”  Hermod, at the word of the despairing Hoder, mounted the eight-footed steed, and set off on the perilous journey.

Meanwhile, the other gods prepared the funeral pyre for Balder, determined that it should be worthy of the beloved and honored god.  Great pine trees were felled and piled upon the deck of Ringhorn, Balder’s ship; tapestry hangings, garlands of flowers and ornaments of gold and silver were heaped upon the pyre.

And finally, in sad procession, came the gods, bearing Balder’s body, which they placed upon the flowers.  His horse and his dogs were killed and placed beside him, that they might be with him to serve him in the underworld.  Then one after one of the gods stepped forward and chanted their farewells; but when Nanna’s turn came, she was unable to speak.  Her heart broke, and her spirit fled to join that of her husband.  The gods could not sorrow for her death; they knew that the abode of the dead would have less terrors for the loving pair if they could be together there, so without tears they laid her beside her husband.

Last of all, Odin advanced and cast upon the pyre his treasured ring, Draupnir, gift of the dwarfs, as an offering to his dead son.  Then Thor, with a touch of his hammer, which caused the lightning, set fire to the pile, and the ship, with sails set, was launched.