lder's brother, and as
unlike him as darkness is unlike daylight. While one rejoiced, and
was merry and cheerful, the other was low-spirited and sad. While one
scattered sunshine and blessings everywhere, the other carried with him
a sense of cheerlessness and gloom. Yet the brothers loved each other
dearly.

One night Balder dreamed a strange dream, and when he awoke he could not
forget it. All day long he was thoughtful and sad, and he was not his
own bright, happy self. His mother, the Asa-queen, saw that something
troubled him; and she asked,--

"Whence comes that cloud upon your brow? Will you suffer it to chase
away all your sunshine? and will you become, like your brother Hoder,
all frowns and sighs and tears?"

Then Balder told her what he had dreamed; and she, too, was sorely
troubled, for it was a frightful dream, and foreboded dire disasters.
Then both she and Balder went to Odin, and to him they told the cause
of their uneasiness. And the All-Father also was distressed; for he knew
that such dreams, dreamed by Asa-folk, were the forewarnings of evil. So
he saddled his eight-footed steed Sleipner; and, without telling any one
where he was going, he rode with the speed of the winds down into
the Valley of Death. The dog that guards the gateway to that dark and
doleful land came out to meet him. Blood was on the fierce beast's
breast, and he barked loudly and angrily at the All-Father and his
wondrous horse. But Odin sang sweet magic songs as he drew near; and the
dog was charmed with the sound, and Sleipner and his rider went onward
in safety. And they passed the dark halls of the pale-faced queen, and
came to the east gate of the valley. There stood the low hut of a witch
who lived in darkness, and, like the Norns, spun the thread of fate for
gods and men.

Odin stood before the hut, and sang a wondrous song of witchery and
enchantment; and he laid a spell upon the weird woman, and forced her to
come out of her dark dwelling, and to answer his questions.

"Who is this stranger?" asked the witch. "Who is this unknown who calls
me from my narrow home, and sets an irksome task for me? Long have I
been left alone in my quiet house; nor recked I that the snow sometimes
covered with its cold white mantle both me and my resting-place, or that
the pattering rain and the gently falling dew often moistened the roof
of my dwelling. Long have I rested quietly, and I do not wish now to be
aroused."

"I am Valtam's