Loki, passing by, was at first amazed when he saw Balder being used as a target; then, when he saw that Balder remained unhurt through all, he became angry--he could not bear this proof of the fact that all things loved Balder. Hastening away, he disguised himself as an old woman and hobbled off to Fensalir, the mansion of Frigga. "Do you know," said this old woman, entering the room where Frigga sat spinning, "that the gods and heroes are playing a very dangerous game? They are hurling all sorts of things at your son Balder, who stands in their midst." "That is not a dangerous game," replied Frigga, smiling serenely. "Last year it might have been, but now all things have given me their solemn oath not to harm Balder." "Well, well, well," said the old woman, "isn't that wonderful? To think that any being should be so much beloved that everything should promise not to hurt him! You said EVERYTHING, did you not?" "Yes," replied Frigga. "That is, it really amounts to everything. There is one tiny parasite, the mistletoe, which grows on the Valhalla oak, which I did not bother with." Once out of sight of Frigga, Loki moved rapidly enough; and shortly he appeared, in his own form, among the gods, who were still shouting with joy over their game. In his hand he carried a dart; but who could have guessed, to look at it, that it had been fashioned from the mistletoe on the Valhalla oak? Outside of the circle of the gods stood Hoder, Balder's blind brother, and there was no smile on his face. Loki approached him and asked craftily: "Why do you not join in the game? Are you not afraid that Balder will think you are jealous of his good fortune if you take no part in this sport they have invented in his honor?" [Illustration: HODER HURLED THE DART] "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."