The ladies began to swoon as he walked by. Tall, muscular, long blonde hair, brilliant
eyes, the very essence of what a Norse God would look like. King Osis cut a path through the twittering women. I was with them, appreciating what a fine looking man he was. The ladies began to speak at once: "ooo, he is Thor" "No he is Odin" "Loki, maybe?" My voice surprised me at its strength, "No! He is Baldur. Baldur the beautiful"
Now why Baldur? Osis didn't look like Thor, the Everyman God, with long golden red hair and bristling red beard. Everybody could be friends with Thor. Osis appeared too regal to be friends with everybody, although those folks did not know my friend as I did. Osis did not look like Odin. First of all, he had two eyes. second, he could never have been capricious, sneaky bastard that Odin is. Osis was far too noble for that.
So I chose Baldur. I know how rightly I chose. Baldur was all things bright and beautiful. Baldur was noble. Baldur was honorable. It just wasn't possible to remain angry at Baldur. Every Goddess envied Nanna, Baldur's wife, just like every woman in the Midrealm envied Caitlin Stuart.
Baldur was slain in the prime of his youth, strength and beauty by something senseless, a mistletoe twig. Osis was slain in the prime of his youth, strength and beauty by something senseless, an automobile accident.
Hermod rode the dark and terrifying path to Hel and asked her to release Baldur. She said, if all the world would weep for Baldur, he would be returned.
Would that I could ride that terrible path tonight, as Hermod did in ancient times, and beg for Osis back. I would tell Hel that all the world weeps tonight. I would tell her that my friend Caitlin weeps hardest of all and I have no way to dry her tears or ease her soul. Which breaks my heart more, the fact that Osis is gone or that I cannot be with my friend as she sorrows?
Does Osis look out from Valhalla and see our tears? Will he ride the wild Hunt? Will he stand beside us in battles? Will his spirit be with us when we do something noble? When we raise our glasses, does he raise his drinking horn in Valhalla?
And when I die, will I see him? Will he offer me his drinking horn, like the night he invested me as Kingdom Minister of Arts and Sciences and say, "Here, drink from my horn Thorhalla."
I pray so.
The Honorable Meistara Carlsdottir af Broberg, O.L.
Written on May 20,1999 durring the afternoon of his funeral.