Manami
03-12-2006, 04:58 AM
I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with Norse mythology, but for those of you who are Final Fantasy fans, you may recognize names such as "Odin", "Freya", "Midgar", "Thor", and "Fenrir" for starters. These are all derived from Norse Mythology, and for those of you who have heard of the anime called Loki Ragnarok, that show is completely based on it with some...well of course, modifications.
Anywho, while researching I came across the very heartbreaking story of Balder (said as Bald-air, I believe), also known as "The Dying God".
According to a web site I found:
"One of the Aesir, his name means "The Glorious". He was also called the "god of tears" and the "white as". Balder, the son of Odin and Frigg, was described as a very handsome and wise god. Some consider him to be a god of light since he was so bright, light shined from him."
So, I've made a short adaptation of the story in story form as opposed to its simple, Tale form with no dialogue and the simple outline of his life.
Note that I wrote this in probably 1 hour, so, humor me. XD This is also not the whole thing, I'll post the rest later. Enjoy!
The tale of Balder; a Norse mythology adaptation
Long ago, when the earth was young and the heavens as new, the ruler of all and the all-powerful being, Odin and his wife Frigg gave birth to a child, known as Balder. He, who would be known as “The Glorious One”, was known for his handsomeness and wisdom. Also known as the “god of tears” and the “white as”, he was often considered a god of light, since the element radiated from his magnificent presence.
Husband to Nanna and father to Forseti, they resided in Breidablik, or “The Broad-Gleaming”, where nothing unclean could be and there were "fewest baneful runes". Decorated supposedly with a silver roof and golden pillars, Breidfablik was truly a sight to be seen, and envied. The family’s good fortune would not prolong, however. For from these peaceful days that would end hence would Balder’s trouble begin…
A summer’s night began the troubled dreams. Dreams that, in Balder’s mind, were at first blurry and incoherent, yet as the days progressed and as he lay next to Nanna, his peaceful state was more frequently disturbed by the presence of frightening images. No faces were distinguishable, yet he was almost positive that he knew the erupting voices and painful cries, and that the pain his body received that every dream dealt him was most realistic.
He strained to keep focus in the dream, which after twenty nights of the repeating images, had become most lifelike. The god’s stability in response to the dream was diminishing as was his ability to control his ever-growing fear, for gods did too fear. They did love, and hate and envy, but had playful personalities at most. Now Balder, with his reputation at having an admirably cool-headed likeness turned in his uncomfortably sleep, and awoke after hearing a long, painful cry.
He sat up, breathing with difficulty, and with some perspiration. His lavishing and glittering hair of white that trailed past his calves to touch the ground would most often be kept tied back loosely in a low-hanging bun, which Nanna helped to prepare for him every day in the early hours of his awakening. But when he slept he did so in his most bare state, as did she, only occasionally wearing robes of the finest material made from cirrus clouds as betrothal gifts from Odin. Otherwise, it was considered inappropriate for wedded gods to sleep in clothing, as it was an insult to one’s partner if they could not trust one another in their most vulnerable states.
As he sat up, Balder’s hair whipped across him, and nearly clothed him. Nanna stirred, and shortly turned on her side to face him in his shameful state. Worried, her face transformed quickly from dazed, to almost frantic.
“Dearest, what troubles you?” asked she, sitting up as well. He put a large hand to cover the left side of his wetted face, and quieted his breath.
“I have had a most troubling dream,” said he.
“The same as before?”
“Yes.”
She looked down at the mangled white sheets, made from the clouds of cumulus, and stroked them delicately. Her hair, a light pink and as long as her husband’s, drooped over her breasts to cloak her pale, perfect body.
“Oh love, how shall we calm your tangibly fearful spirit?” asked she, eyes of the ocean fixated on him.
Balder studied his wife a moment before stroking her cheek gently.
“I shall see father, and consult it with him in the morn. Until then, love, please lie down, and enjoy once more the serene state of slumber I cannot know until this matter is cleared up.” He laid her down and watched her doze for a while. Deciding it was safe to do so, he slid off the enormous, circular bed after having pushed the surrounding curtain aside.
Dressing himself in the robe his father bestowed to him, Balder walked to the balcony rail, overlooking the sparkling ocean. He glowed in sync with the moonlight above, which smiled upon his home warmly, even in the moon’s cold, pale appearance.
“Tomorrow, father,” said he who bore the deepest, most alluring voice of all the Gods, “I shall seek your counsel.”
As soon as the light illuminated the palace grounds, Balder had already bathed in the holy waters of his spring, and dressed himself in his finest attire for the meeting with his father.
“You’ll do well not to waste time, Balder. You know how impatient your father is,” said Nanna kindly, taking a brush to his hair. He would move, but she insisted that he held still for her to fix his hair as she always did.
“I do wish to come with you…” she said quietly.
“Forseti is still young, dearest. He needs his mother here.”
“You are right, as always, though I wish it weren’t so. Children of the Gods grow so very slowly, wouldn’t you agree?” she smiled. “Although, I do enjoy my young son in his early years, so I shall enjoy every moment.”
She had combed and tied his hair in the proper attire, and it was somehow neater this day. Balder breathed deeply and turned to face her with a stern expression, but one that also reflected some gratitude. He pulled out a smile for her sake, looking down at her affectionately. He was so very tall yet lean, though he was muscular in his arms and chest, and not bulky. He pressed her head against him and stroked her long hair, which had not yet been tied.
“Be well, my love,” he said, and departed for the heavens shortly afterwards, riding the winds into the heavens.
It was not long before Balder arrived at the enormous gates of Heaven, golden and bold with holy spiritual power. He called out his name confidently, and the gates opened. Loyal servants to his father bowed upon his entrance, and those of much higher rank approached him, wishing to know how life in the secluded part of Earth was, and wished well of his family and his welfare. Kindly he thanked them, not bothered by their presence and certainly not by their generous words. He appreciated it sincerely.
Odin's high seat, Hlidskialf, was in Valaskjalf, where he could see the entire world from this throne. And so Balder came to kneel before his father, an ominous figure larger than life, and more mysterious than death.
“Good Father, I have come seeking your counsel,” said Balder. There was silence.
“Oh, dear, Balder, what possibly could upset you enough to seek my counsel?”
Balder stood up boldly, unafraid and strong in his father’s presence, despite Odin’s terrifying voice and large size.
“I have been plagued with a series of the same, recurring dream every night for the past twenty nights. Each one becomes clearer, if only a little. But in the dream I do sense death, my death, and many frightening familiarities in the voices of my dream worry me. Great Father, what should I make of this?” he asked, patiently awaiting an answer. Odin leaned back in his throne, stroking his chin.
“Do not worry yourself, my son. I shall see to this personally.”
“Father, you do me much honor. But I cannot ask of you more than advice.”
“And why not?” he boomed, “Am I not at leisure to assist my own son?”
Balder was taken aback by this, but responded gratefully.
“Thank you, Father. I will await news from you in Breidablik.” He left nearly as quickly as he’d traveled above, eager to return home to wait for his Father with Nanna and his own son, Forseti. However, as he descended and made his way towards the gate of his own residence, a chilling sensation swept over him, and a dark feeling shrouded his thoughts.
Odin did, that very night, descend to the realm of Hel, Goddess of the Underworld and daughter of Loki, the Trickster giant. Entering the dark gates of the Underworld, Odin demanded to summon a volva from the dead, one who might be able to translate the cryptic dream.
“Ah…” moaned the volva pensively, “Ah…”
”What of it?” said Odin powerfully.
“I am saddened to tell your Greatness of dark news, but soon, very soon, a son you shall loose.”
“…Go on.”
“Ah…he is Balder, the Glorious, of strength and of mind. To think of the tragedy, killed by his own kind! The fraternal twin he cares dearly for, called Hod is she, who’ll end the life of he!”
“Hod, my daughter…I think you are mistaken.”
“Aye, sir, but I do not lie; the life of your son will surely be taken.”
Odin dismissed the volva hurriedly, tightening his great hands into fists. It could not be right, could not be true, but the vulvas generally did not lie, and not if they wanted to remain as souls in his presence. No, this was the truth to come, and now it was his duty, as father and ruler, to report the news to Balder’s mother, Frigg.
Anywho, while researching I came across the very heartbreaking story of Balder (said as Bald-air, I believe), also known as "The Dying God".
According to a web site I found:
"One of the Aesir, his name means "The Glorious". He was also called the "god of tears" and the "white as". Balder, the son of Odin and Frigg, was described as a very handsome and wise god. Some consider him to be a god of light since he was so bright, light shined from him."
So, I've made a short adaptation of the story in story form as opposed to its simple, Tale form with no dialogue and the simple outline of his life.
Note that I wrote this in probably 1 hour, so, humor me. XD This is also not the whole thing, I'll post the rest later. Enjoy!
The tale of Balder; a Norse mythology adaptation
Long ago, when the earth was young and the heavens as new, the ruler of all and the all-powerful being, Odin and his wife Frigg gave birth to a child, known as Balder. He, who would be known as “The Glorious One”, was known for his handsomeness and wisdom. Also known as the “god of tears” and the “white as”, he was often considered a god of light, since the element radiated from his magnificent presence.
Husband to Nanna and father to Forseti, they resided in Breidablik, or “The Broad-Gleaming”, where nothing unclean could be and there were "fewest baneful runes". Decorated supposedly with a silver roof and golden pillars, Breidfablik was truly a sight to be seen, and envied. The family’s good fortune would not prolong, however. For from these peaceful days that would end hence would Balder’s trouble begin…
A summer’s night began the troubled dreams. Dreams that, in Balder’s mind, were at first blurry and incoherent, yet as the days progressed and as he lay next to Nanna, his peaceful state was more frequently disturbed by the presence of frightening images. No faces were distinguishable, yet he was almost positive that he knew the erupting voices and painful cries, and that the pain his body received that every dream dealt him was most realistic.
He strained to keep focus in the dream, which after twenty nights of the repeating images, had become most lifelike. The god’s stability in response to the dream was diminishing as was his ability to control his ever-growing fear, for gods did too fear. They did love, and hate and envy, but had playful personalities at most. Now Balder, with his reputation at having an admirably cool-headed likeness turned in his uncomfortably sleep, and awoke after hearing a long, painful cry.
He sat up, breathing with difficulty, and with some perspiration. His lavishing and glittering hair of white that trailed past his calves to touch the ground would most often be kept tied back loosely in a low-hanging bun, which Nanna helped to prepare for him every day in the early hours of his awakening. But when he slept he did so in his most bare state, as did she, only occasionally wearing robes of the finest material made from cirrus clouds as betrothal gifts from Odin. Otherwise, it was considered inappropriate for wedded gods to sleep in clothing, as it was an insult to one’s partner if they could not trust one another in their most vulnerable states.
As he sat up, Balder’s hair whipped across him, and nearly clothed him. Nanna stirred, and shortly turned on her side to face him in his shameful state. Worried, her face transformed quickly from dazed, to almost frantic.
“Dearest, what troubles you?” asked she, sitting up as well. He put a large hand to cover the left side of his wetted face, and quieted his breath.
“I have had a most troubling dream,” said he.
“The same as before?”
“Yes.”
She looked down at the mangled white sheets, made from the clouds of cumulus, and stroked them delicately. Her hair, a light pink and as long as her husband’s, drooped over her breasts to cloak her pale, perfect body.
“Oh love, how shall we calm your tangibly fearful spirit?” asked she, eyes of the ocean fixated on him.
Balder studied his wife a moment before stroking her cheek gently.
“I shall see father, and consult it with him in the morn. Until then, love, please lie down, and enjoy once more the serene state of slumber I cannot know until this matter is cleared up.” He laid her down and watched her doze for a while. Deciding it was safe to do so, he slid off the enormous, circular bed after having pushed the surrounding curtain aside.
Dressing himself in the robe his father bestowed to him, Balder walked to the balcony rail, overlooking the sparkling ocean. He glowed in sync with the moonlight above, which smiled upon his home warmly, even in the moon’s cold, pale appearance.
“Tomorrow, father,” said he who bore the deepest, most alluring voice of all the Gods, “I shall seek your counsel.”
As soon as the light illuminated the palace grounds, Balder had already bathed in the holy waters of his spring, and dressed himself in his finest attire for the meeting with his father.
“You’ll do well not to waste time, Balder. You know how impatient your father is,” said Nanna kindly, taking a brush to his hair. He would move, but she insisted that he held still for her to fix his hair as she always did.
“I do wish to come with you…” she said quietly.
“Forseti is still young, dearest. He needs his mother here.”
“You are right, as always, though I wish it weren’t so. Children of the Gods grow so very slowly, wouldn’t you agree?” she smiled. “Although, I do enjoy my young son in his early years, so I shall enjoy every moment.”
She had combed and tied his hair in the proper attire, and it was somehow neater this day. Balder breathed deeply and turned to face her with a stern expression, but one that also reflected some gratitude. He pulled out a smile for her sake, looking down at her affectionately. He was so very tall yet lean, though he was muscular in his arms and chest, and not bulky. He pressed her head against him and stroked her long hair, which had not yet been tied.
“Be well, my love,” he said, and departed for the heavens shortly afterwards, riding the winds into the heavens.
It was not long before Balder arrived at the enormous gates of Heaven, golden and bold with holy spiritual power. He called out his name confidently, and the gates opened. Loyal servants to his father bowed upon his entrance, and those of much higher rank approached him, wishing to know how life in the secluded part of Earth was, and wished well of his family and his welfare. Kindly he thanked them, not bothered by their presence and certainly not by their generous words. He appreciated it sincerely.
Odin's high seat, Hlidskialf, was in Valaskjalf, where he could see the entire world from this throne. And so Balder came to kneel before his father, an ominous figure larger than life, and more mysterious than death.
“Good Father, I have come seeking your counsel,” said Balder. There was silence.
“Oh, dear, Balder, what possibly could upset you enough to seek my counsel?”
Balder stood up boldly, unafraid and strong in his father’s presence, despite Odin’s terrifying voice and large size.
“I have been plagued with a series of the same, recurring dream every night for the past twenty nights. Each one becomes clearer, if only a little. But in the dream I do sense death, my death, and many frightening familiarities in the voices of my dream worry me. Great Father, what should I make of this?” he asked, patiently awaiting an answer. Odin leaned back in his throne, stroking his chin.
“Do not worry yourself, my son. I shall see to this personally.”
“Father, you do me much honor. But I cannot ask of you more than advice.”
“And why not?” he boomed, “Am I not at leisure to assist my own son?”
Balder was taken aback by this, but responded gratefully.
“Thank you, Father. I will await news from you in Breidablik.” He left nearly as quickly as he’d traveled above, eager to return home to wait for his Father with Nanna and his own son, Forseti. However, as he descended and made his way towards the gate of his own residence, a chilling sensation swept over him, and a dark feeling shrouded his thoughts.
Odin did, that very night, descend to the realm of Hel, Goddess of the Underworld and daughter of Loki, the Trickster giant. Entering the dark gates of the Underworld, Odin demanded to summon a volva from the dead, one who might be able to translate the cryptic dream.
“Ah…” moaned the volva pensively, “Ah…”
”What of it?” said Odin powerfully.
“I am saddened to tell your Greatness of dark news, but soon, very soon, a son you shall loose.”
“…Go on.”
“Ah…he is Balder, the Glorious, of strength and of mind. To think of the tragedy, killed by his own kind! The fraternal twin he cares dearly for, called Hod is she, who’ll end the life of he!”
“Hod, my daughter…I think you are mistaken.”
“Aye, sir, but I do not lie; the life of your son will surely be taken.”
Odin dismissed the volva hurriedly, tightening his great hands into fists. It could not be right, could not be true, but the vulvas generally did not lie, and not if they wanted to remain as souls in his presence. No, this was the truth to come, and now it was his duty, as father and ruler, to report the news to Balder’s mother, Frigg.