The Ballad of Balder: A Trickster’s Delight

Ah, Balder—the golden boy of the Aesir, the shining light of Asgard, the one who could do no wrong. The gods loved him, the mortals adored him, and I? Well, I... I adored how easily he was adored. It was almost too easy, you know? Too perfect for his own good. You see, Balder wasn’t just a pretty face with a heart of gold—oh no, my friends, he was a walking disaster waiting to happen. But who could’ve seen it coming? Certainly not me, right? Right.

Now, let’s back up a bit. The gods, as usual, were a bunch of worrywarts, getting all worked up over a few omens, whispering about how Balder was destined for an untimely death. But I—being the ever-helpful god of chaos that I am—decided to give them a little push in the right direction. Who else but me could bring about such a glorious, tragic end with a well-placed nudge?

So here’s how it went down. The gods, full of their usual arrogance, decided to do some lighthearted entertainment by throwing stuff at Balder. Why not? He was invincible, after all. Nothing could harm him. Spears, axes, rocks, hammers—nothing touched him. And everyone was laughing, patting themselves on the back for their invincible little pet god, Balder.

But I—oh yes, I—had other plans.

See, there’s this one little detail that everyone forgot: Mistletoe. Oh yes. Everyone was so busy with their giant weapons, their enchanted swords, that they overlooked the tiny, innocent-looking plant. And why was that? Because it’s harmless, right? Totally harmless. Except when you’re me. And when you’re me, you can make anything—anything—deadly.

Now, I didn’t do the deed myself, of course. Oh no. That would’ve been too obvious. Too boring. Too easy. Instead, I made sure to manipulate the blind god, Höðr, into throwing the mistletoe at Balder. He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, poor sod. I handed him the arrow and pointed him in the direction of his own brother's doom.

And what happened next? Boom. The deed was done. Balder, the perfect, golden god, the one everyone thought couldn’t die, dropped like a stone. And the entire realm of Asgard? Devastated.

Now, of course, the gods were furious. They blamed everything, from the mistletoe to their own stupidity. But me? I was having a blast. No one ever suspected me. I mean, why would they? Who would ever think the charming, brilliant, and utterly mischievous Loki would be behind it all? No one saw the snake coming, did they?

Of course, they eventually hunted me down—just a bit too late, I’d say—and what happened? I was punished. Oh, how they loved to punish me. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done. Balder was gone, and I? I was already plotting my next delightful little trick.

So here’s the thing: Balder’s death wasn’t just some tragic tale of a god gone too soon. It was a testament to the fact that no one—no one—is beyond a good trick. Not even the “immortal” gods. The lesson? Never trust a perfectly flawless god. There’s always someone—or something—waiting to bring them down, and who better than me, Loki, the great trickster of them all?

And as for the gods? Well, they’ll never learn. They’ll never see the next trick coming, and I’ll be there, grinning, waiting, and—oh, you can bet—I’ll be delighting in every moment of it.

So there you have it, the truth behind Balder’s fall. The gods may have forgotten to check for mistletoe, but they’ll never forget the name of Loki.

🖋️✨📜🖤