Darkness Doesn't Bother Me

By: Virginia Allen

I am known classically as the trickster god. Yes, sometimes I am mischievous, but I haven't really been malicious...that often. The giants are evil, but me, little innocent Loki, am only the son of a giant, and you don't always grow to be what your father was (just don't tell Thor or Odin). It seems my appointed job was to stir things up when things were going well. You're welcome. It's a type of action that one wishes to avert when telling an actor to break a leg before a performance. I'm a star. I'm a blessing in disguise. Honestly, I was disturbed by all the gaiety and decided to do something about it, so in disguise as a disgusting old hag, I traveled to Frigg while she was at Fensalir taking a break from the festivities, only for a little fun. "What is going on at Gladsheim?" I asked her. She said it was some happy celebration of the god Balder. I quickly asked, why, then, were people throwing weapons at him? Frigg explained to my mute ears about the promises she'd exacted. I kept at her asking ridiculous questions until she finally revealed that there was one thing she hadn't asked because she thought it too small and inconsequential. The one thing was mistletoe, she admitted to my smug grin. With all the information I needed, I set off to the forest to get myself a branch of mistletoe, as if for the vile, tricky circumstance. There had to be something. It was always my responsibility to mess things up, as the son of a giant. I then returned to the festivities at Gladsheim and sought out Balder's blind brother, Hod, god of darkness, who was in a corner because he couldn't aim and therefore couldn't participate in the test of Balder's invulnerability. It was funny, even if he didn't know it. I told Hod I would help him take aim and handed Hod a piece of apparently innocuous mistletoe to throw. Hodur was grateful and accepted the offer, so I steered Hod's arm, like the good friend that I wasn't. Hod launched the scrawny branch, which caught Balder in the chest. Balder died right away before any could finish their gasp. The gods looked directly Hod and of course, saw me beside him. Before they could say whose fault was whose, I fled. Another talent that I was born with. Celebration transformed almost immediately into sorrowful lamentation since the most beloved of the gods had died. (No matter how funny I thought it all was.) Odin, the God that called himself my father now, was solely aware of how disastrous this event really was for them all, for he knew that with the loss of light and truth, the end of the world, Ragnarok, was due soon. I never think of things like that, and I don't really care for them either. Life wasn't handed to me on a silver platter, as it was to Thor, but that didn't mean that being raised together by Odin, though our blood didn't match didn't make our minds similar. I only really had to deal with my natural birth and blood (which trust me, comes to my advantage sometimes) in this occurence seeing a funeral pyre was made that was so enormous the gods had to ask the help of the giants; my true heritage. Then they placed their most valuable worldly possessions as gifts upon the intricate pyre. Odin had placed his golden armband, which he called, Draupnir. (Which meant only more fun for me, I didn't care much for the light.) Balder's wife fell down dramatically dead of grief at the pyre, so her body was placed beside her husband's. Everyone was touched or playing with thunder to create a Norse symphony of honor, but I still didn't see what was the big deal anyway. Balder was a god; wasn't he? They saw that soon too, unfortunately. The call for more mischief, my specialty. (How could I be the only one seeing what I, the god of mischief was so clearly doing?) Not to say that there was no attempt was made to resurrect Balder, but due to some more mischief conducted by yours truly, it failed. The goddess of death, Hel (adoptive sister), promised that Balder could return to earth if every living creature shed tears of grief for Balder. Give me a break. She is supposed to be the goddess of death, when was she supposed to care for the living? It truly looked as though it would work, for everyone loved Balder, but I arranged for a single exception. It wasn't as if the tears I was shedding were really for Balder anyway. I arranged the disguise of one of my blood, as the giantess Thok. As Thok, I was too indifferent to cry. I'm a really good actor. Ask anyone. They all think I still care. Luckily (at least for me), Balder could not return to this dastardly place known as the land of the living. Balder and his wife remained in the place where they belonged. They did stay in Niflheim. Another son of Odin, Vali, revenged the death of Balder, but not by getting back at me. Stupid brother. They all are brainless when it comes to one's nature. Well, I never was the favorite, I was just the most cunning. Instead, Vali slew his innocent brother, the blind god Hod. Meanwhile, I fled the initial scene of Balder's death in Gladhseim, and then re-appeared in my genius disguise as the giantess Thok, where I tried to get to safety by turning into a salmon. The salmon that was me remained hidden in a waterfall. Unfortunately, the Aesir, who saw past my trick and knew where I was, tried to catch me in a net. Why do they underestimate my wit? I was too clever for that and jumped right over the net in less time than it takes for a human to let out a short breath. Thor, however, my savior of a brother, to everyone but me, was just fast enough to catch the leaping fish that was covered me (his favorite brother by bond; we were the closest in age, though as children he played with play sparks of lightning while my own games were much darker) in his bare hands. Then I was bound in a cave with venom dripping onto my poor, innocent body, which causing me to writhe in pain (I have the worst father, by both blood and adoption)— until the world sees its end in Ragnarok. That was when you came in. I'm punished for what seems like an eternity for just a bit of fun. I wonder if I'm precocious enough to get out of this one. Let's be honest with one another, probably...