All day long, as they went about their tasks and their pleasures, the gods were conscious of a feeling of gloom; and when they stopped and questioned themselves, they found that the cause lay in the diminished brightness of Balder's smile. When, the next morning, Balder again came slowly to the great hall of the gods and showed a careworn face, Odin and Frigga, his father and mother, drew him apart and implored him to tell them the cause of his grief.
"My son," spoke Odin, "it is not well that this gloom should rest on all the gods, and they not know the cause. Perhaps we, your father and your mother, may help you."
At last Balder told them that for two nights he had had strange, haunting dreams; what they were he could not remember clearly when he awoke, but he could not shake off their depressing effect.
"I only know," he said, "that there was ever a thick cloud, which drifted between me and the sun, and there were confused sounds of woe, and travelings in dark, difficult places."
Now the gods knew well that their dreams were messages given them by the Norns, or Fates, and not for a moment did Odin and Frigga venture to laugh at Balder's fears. They soothed him, however, by promising to find some means of warding off any danger that might be threatening him. Somewhat cheered, Balder went home to his palace to comfort his distressed wife, Nanna, while Odin and Frigga discussed measures for their son's safety.
"I," said Odin, "shall ride to the domains of Hela, queen of the dead, and question the great prophetess who lies buried there, as to what Balder's dream may mean." And mounting Sleipnir, his eight-footed steed, he rode away.
Across the rainbow bridge he passed, out of the light, and down, down, down into the dark, hopeless realm of Hela. As he rode by the gate he saw that preparations for a feast were being made within. A gloomy feast it would have to be in those drear regions, but evidently it was being spread for some honored guest, for rich tapestries and rings of gold covered the couches, and vessels of gold graced the tables. Past the gate rode Odin, to a grave without the wall, where for ages long the greatest of all prophetesses had lain buried. Here, in this dark, chill place, was to be spoken the fate of Balder, bringer of light.
Solemnly Odin chanted the awful charms that had power to raise the dead, and king of gods as he was, he started when the grave opened, and the prophetess, veiled in mist, rose before him.
"Who art thou?" she demanded in hollow, ghost-like tones. "And what canst thou wish to know so weighty that only I, long dead, can answer thee?"
Knowing that she would refuse to answer him should she know who he really was, Odin concealed his identity, and simply asked for whom the feast was preparing in Hela's realm.