POTENTIALITIES OF LOKI

The figure of Loki is as fascinating as he is problematic. Jan de Vries (1933), Hilding Celander (1914)
and Folke Ström (1956) characterise Loki as a ‘problem’, while to Anne Holtsmark (1962) he remains
a ‘riddle’. To this day scholars are divided on how to categorise Loki. Some call him a god, others a
giant, an elf (Karl Weinhold 1849:13) or a demon, and often they do not define what they mean by
these appellations .i Is Loki a demon? Or, as according to Jakob Grimm (1835) (1953:199f.), a fire elf?
Does Loki’s alleged ‘fire nature’ (Karl Simrock 1887:99) imply that he is a ‘destroyer’ (Karl Simrock
1887:99)? Is he ‘evil’ (Hermann Schneider 1938:241), the Lucifer of the North (Sophus Bugge
1881:10)? The cunning trickster (Jan de Vries 1933)? Or death (Anatoly Liberman 1992:142)? Of
course, a conference presentation cannot provide answers to all of these questions, but let us
concentrate briefly on one of them, Loki as ‘evil’.

To find the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding the figure of Loki, we must examine the
literature. Most literary sources date to Christian times. Only few might have been created earlier,
during the siðaskipti or even in “heathen times”. One of these is the skaldic poem Haustlöng. One of
our major sources, the Snorra-Edda, is however written by a Christian, who seemed to have two main
ambitions:

1. Gaining and increasing personal wealth and power,

2. Establishing and maintaining an Iceland independent from Norway.

He wrote both Edda and Heimskringla between two journeys to Norway, where he argued for the
independence of Iceland. Traces of his ambition for independence are reflected in Heimskringla
(namely in Hákonar saga góða and Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar) which shows that the Norwegians
gambled away their chance for a peaceful Christianisation, whereas the people of Iceland were clever
enough to accept the new faith in order to maintain social order.

On closer examination, Heimskringla should not only be understood as a history of the Norwegian
kings, but also as a milestone towards the independence of Iceland. It is worth examining the Ynglinga
saga in this light as well. The history of the Ynglingar could not begin with gods since to the Christian
mind, these were not gods, but demons, which by definition could not be integrated into the family
tree of the Nordic people and their Christian kings. On the other hand, misguided people serving
demons and becoming deified by mistake after their death could. The description of the æsir and their
worship corresponds to the understanding of demons and their worship as described by Augustinus in
De Civitate Dei (Weber 2001:94). It may also correspond to common superstitions of afturgöngur and
the Christian idea of necromantia as described by Thomas von Aquin for example. Snorri used this
device to integrate not only (heathen) history, but also strongly rooted heathen traditions into the
Nordic people’s self-perception within Christian times. Both of these formed the basis of an otherwise
lost identity.

This concept of demonisation only worked for the history of the Nordic people within Heimskringla,
however. In his Edda, Snorri’s aim was to preserve the cultural tradition and art of skaldic stanza,
which depends on the kenningar created on the basis of heathen tradition.He could therefore only use
fine nuances. One example of this is the distinction between the álfar in ljósálfar and dökkálfar.
Snorra-Edda is an excellent example of the art of connecting pre-Christian and Christian ideas often
using nothing but fine nuances. This resulted in a mythological system and chronology that may not
have existed before but one which had enormous impact potential. One of the general impacts – not
only found in Snorra-Edda, but also in the Eddaic poems – is the ensuing descent of the “powers of
chaos”. But the descent of personifications of these powers – of the giants, elves, Loki (vömm allra
goða, as Snorri calls him) – also has an impact on the development of those gods who at first sight
seemed to be connected to order rather than chaos. Of course these terms can only be used in a
supporting role and any further discussion of them would be beyond the purpose of this presentation.
We will therefore use them keeping in mind that they represent a modern and maybe not totally
appropriate point of view. The gods become accomplices of chaos because they use the powers of
chaos for their own profit without realising that this is one step towards ragnarök. According to
Gylfaginning (42) they plot to cheat and kill the giant builder. According to Hymiskviða (34-36) Þórr
kills a giant whose only “guilt” is to defend his brew kettle against Þórr, who wants to steal it.
Lokasenna presents the gods as sinful and “morally condemnable” creatures who sleep with dwarfs
and their own brothers and sisters, who betray their husbands and wives, who lose the weapon they
need for ragnarök because of their horniness and so on.

The gods are seduced by magic, their own greed and “evil” powers and therefore bear sole
responsibility for their own doom. The Christian mind has no mercy for devils, demons and sinners of
this kind. The Ynglinga saga (10) refers to Freyr as veraldargoð, a term that could not be any closer to
Christian terms for the devil. Grímsnismál calls Óðinn Bölverkr – Skáldskaparmál (6) Yggr. In
Eyvindr skáldaspillir’s Hákonarmál Hákon says Óðinn is illúðigr. In Galdrabók he is the Ille. These
terms demonstrate the evil nature of Óðinn and the increasing manifestation of this evilness as time
goes by.

Nevertheless, this development could also take place in reverse. The Niðrstigninga saga refers to the
miðgarðsormr when meaning the devil (Otto Gschwantler 1968:153). In the Stockholm Homelies
Book someone noted miþgarþsormr over leviaþan (Otto Gschwantler 1968).

There is not a single piece of literary evidence, however, that Loki was ever compared to the devil.
The myths surrounding him (especially the closer ragnarök gets) do nevertheless show some parallels
between these two figures, for example the captivity or role of scapegoat played by Loki in the giant
builder myth told by Snorri (Gylfaginning 42), where Loki seems to receive all subsequent blame.
There is no evidence in the myth, as told by Snorri, that Loki is guilty, but blaming Loki seems to
draw the attention away from the collective guilt of the gods who wanted to cheat the giant of his fee .
Loki must therefore take the blame for everyone. But that still does not excuse the ensuing deception
and murder of the giant. Christians are unequivocal in their belief that you cannot escape your guilt
even if you have found a scapegoat to bear it for you. And there is another parallel between the devil
and Loki in hisrole as accuser (Hiob 1,6 ff.) (John McKinnell 1994), the diabolos in the original Greek
senseii. In Lokasenna it is Loki who holds up the mirror to the gods so they can see where their greed
and sins will lead them. He also refuses to go on playing the role of scapegoat. So, who else does?
Baldr? Loki’s involvement in Baldr’s death is passionately discussed and is sometimes used to
“unmask” Loki’s “evil” nature. But Loki’s role seems to be as doubtful here as the notion that the
death of Baldr is murder at all. In Völuspa (31) the völva says:

Ek sá Baldri,
blóðgum tívur,
Óðins barni,
örlög folgin ... (Guðni Jónsson 1954:I,11)

This is the only occurrence of tívurr within the Eddaic poetry. It might be a singular for the plural tívar
“gods”, but the etymology is doubtful. It could mean “god” or “sacrifice”, and could be compared to
the biblic appellation of Isaac and Christ (Ursula Dronke 1997:139). Together with the adjective
blóðugr, the more probable meaning is “sacrifice”. In addition, the skalds know the kenning heilagr
tafn “holy sacrifice”iii for Baldr (Húsdrápa 8).

The third line of stanza 31 of Völuspá calls Baldr Óðins barn or “child of Óðinn”. Using the term barn
for one of the gods is unique here. So what might barn imply? Of course, Baldr is the son of Óðinn, so
why the big deal? As there is no reason for the völva to say something that obvious – she would not do
this – the term barn must have some hidden meaning. Maybe she is touching a sore spot? The barn is
not just “a” child, but also a member of the next generation, the generation whose time is yet to come.

More bewildering is the well-known question that Óðinn asks Vafþrúðnir: What did Óðinn whisper
into his son’s ear before the bál was raised (Vafþrúðnismál, 54)?
 Hvat mælti Óðinn,
áðr á bál stigi,
sjalfr í eyra syni? (Guðni Jónsson 1954: I,82)

The bál could be a pyre for the dead Baldr. But what sense does it make to whisper into the ear of a
dead person? What if Baldr was not dead at that point in timeiv? This raises the question of Óðinn’s
role in Baldr’s death.

Many variants of a three-god bracteate, the most popular of which is the Fakse bracteate
(Copenhagen), show three figures generally considered to be Óðinn, Baldr and possibly Loki or Hel
(Karl Hauck argues in various articlesv for Loki, Rudolf Simek 1984:56 for Hel). According to most of
the bracteates, Baldr stands on something like a platform with a cult pole, perhaps a kind of stallr.
Egill calls Óðinn vinr stalla, “friend of the altars”. One indication that Óðinn was involved in Baldr’s
death is the sacrifices for Óðinn carried out with a seemingly harmless branch as described in
Gautreks saga or Styrbjarnar þáttr Svíakappa for example. We could conclude that the bracteates do
not show a murder witnessed by a paralysed Óðinn. Instead it gives the impression of a ceremony.
This impression is supported by Snorra-Edda. Gylfaginning (49) describes the scene in which Baldr’s
dies as a þing at which the gods seem to enjoy themselves by shooting at a seemingly invulnerable
Baldr. The deadly shot hits Baldr in front of all the gods at this þing. Even Snorri refers in
Gylfaginning to the place of Baldr’s death as some holy place: Þar var svá mikill griðastaðr (Guðni
Jónsson 1954:III,80f.)

But why was Baldr killed? According to the presentation of ragnarök in Völuspá, Baldr will return
after ragnarök. But in order to be able to return, he first has to go. Maybe he has to be sent (senda)
rather than sacrificed (blóta). And who could be more predestined for this role than Loki, who –
according to Gylfaginning – could no longer stand it that the gods were shooting at Baldr without
hurting him: En er þetta sá Loki Laufeyjarson, þá líkaði honum illa, er Baldr sakaði ekki (Guðni
Jónsson: 1954:III,79f.)

We also have to consider the giantess Þökk here, who according to Snorri does not cry for Baldr’s
death and thereby impedes his return. Þökk “thank, meed, joy” is at first sight a highly sarcastic name
for a giantess who brings misfortune to the gods by impeding the return of Baldr to the living.

We should also remember that Óðinn uses Mímir’s skull to access hidden knowledge and other worlds
(Völuspá 48, Sigrdrífumál 14, Ynglinga saga 4, 7). According to Völuspá, Óðinn asks to know the
fate of the gods and learns both of their doom and the new world his son will inhabit. Against the
background of Völuspá and according to the argumentation so far, we may make the case that Óðinn
consciously sacrifices/sends his son ahead of the looming onset of ragnarök. He knows that this does
not mean Baldr’s death but rather his transportation to another world. Óðinn too sacrificed himself in
order to gain more knowledge. Such a sacrifice does not necessarily imply the death of the person
sacrificed, but can provide them with insight into other worlds in the state between alive and dead.

The literary tradition, especially Snorra-Edda, nevertheless seems to exclude Óðinn from the “killing”
– or rather sending – of Baldr. The connections between Óðinn and Baldr’s death discussed above are
all that remain. This discussion has shown that we might have to reconsider Óðinn’s role in this myth
as well as Loki’s, Óðinn’s blood brother (Lokasenna). The connection between Óðinn and Loki seems
to be an ancient one and is indeed sometimes striking. More important however are the distinctions.
Loki does not seem to respect the rules and boundaries of the divine society, a fact perhaps already
demonstrated by his family tree. He is the only one among the æsir whose father is a giant while his
mother belongs to the æsir. In Lokasenna (23) Óðinn calls Loki argr. Not only does Loki change
species, he also changes sex. Óðinn too changes species; the Ynglinga saga (7) tells about Óðinn’s
journeys in the shape of a bird, wild animal, fish and snake. But he respects the sex boundary. Loki on
the contrary crossed both boundaries at the same time. He is a foaling mare (Gylfaginning 42), a
child-bearing milk maid (Lokasenna 23) and the giantess Þökk. And indeed the gods have good
reason to be thankful. According to Völuspá, Baldr will return after ragnarök. He will inhabit a
seemingly better world starting a kind of second golden age, in which he finds the golden items of the
former golden age in the grass.

According to Snorri it was Loki who forced the gods to take the next step towards ragnarök. But as we
have seen, Óðinn, as the one who knows the fate of Baldr, is also involved. Something else that we
must consider is the inconsistent lists of inhabitants of the new world after ragnarök. While Völuspá
lists Baldr and Hœnir as the “innocent victims”, Vafþrúðnismál (51) concentrates on Víðarr, Vali,
Móði and Magni as the survivors:

„Víðarr ok Váli
byggja vé goða,
þá er sloknar Surta logi;
Móði ok Magni
skulu Mjöllni hafa
Vingnis at vígþroti.” (Guðni Jónsson 1954:I,81)

The survivors seem to be selected on one hand (Völuspá) by moral measurement and on the other
(Vafnþrúðnismál) by natural sequence. Of course this is just one of many possible interpretations
located on different levels of understanding of the myths. For the purpose of this presentation
however, we will focus on the “epic” level.vi This process of a younger generation superseding the
elder one connected with the ragnarök myth could be re-interpreted using Christian elements. In this
new view, the process becomes a purifying fire punishing the sinful gods. This move fulfilled several
functions.

1. On one hand, it succeeded in alienating those characteristics of the gods that did not fit into
the Christian worldview.
2. On the other hand, it succeeded in showing a critical distance to the old myths.
3. And last but not least, this clever move succeeded in propagating Christian ideas within pre-
Christian tradition, which led to a progression of tradition within Christian times and at the
same time prevented the negation of the tradition and history of the Nordic people.

Of course, this does not mean that the concept of ragnarök did not exist before Christian times. It did.
In order to be able to connect a myth with Christian ideas, you need a certain shared or prefigurative
basis. But the “moralistic” value of this myth and Loki’s negative and almost evil presentation –
maybe even his leading part in the Baldr myth as well as his abuse as accuser in Lokasenna and
scapegoat in Gylfaginning (42) – might have been developed under Christian influence. Let us call
this part of Loki’s extramythological development. This is just one layer we have to consider when
interpreting Loki.

The kenningar used for Loki in Haustlöng demonstrate that there is a second kind of development we
have to consider, a second “layer”: the intramythological development. Haustlöng introduces Loki as
Hœnis vinr (3), “friend of Hœnir” and hrafnásar vinr (4), “friend of Óðinn”. But from stanza 5 on, the
picture darkens. He is referred to as Fárbautamögr (5), “son of the giant Fárbauti”, the opponent of the
æsir, bagðvíss ósvífrandi ása (5)vii, the burden of Sigyn’s arms, arma farmr Sigvinjar (6). Two stanzas
later he is called úlfs faðir (8), “father of the wolf”, which correlates with stanza 2 in which Þjazi is
called snótar úlfr “wolf of the woman”. This development is also reflected in the myths told by Snorri
and the poetic Edda. In the beginning of the mythological world, Loki appears friendly. He is the one
who obtains Sleipnir (Völuspá in skamma 11, Gylfaginning 42), Mjöllnir (Skáldskaparmál (43)),
Gungnir, Skíðblaðnir, Gullinborsti and Draupnir (all Skáldskaparmál 35). He is the one Þórr turns to
as soon as he notices that his hammer has been stolen, and Loki is the one who cheats the giants in
order to help Þórr get his hammer back (Þrymskviða). He is the one bringing movement into the story,
one of the sagna hrœrir in Þjóðólfr’s Haustlöng. But the gods have lost their golden age and are now
living in a mythological world and time frame comparable to the human world. They have to fight for
their rising empire and also experience its downfall. Loki therefore only appears as their friend as long
as they are reaching their cultural climax. As soon as this climax is reached, however, any further
movement is just one step closer to ragnarök. This is the crucial point at which the driving force Loki
increasingly becomes the enemy of the gods. Neutrally considered, Loki does not become the enemy
of the gods at all, nor has he ever been their friend. His function on the epic level of the myths is
simply to keep the wheel of history moving, ultimately towards ragnarök.

From the Christian perspective, Loki at this point resigns from his role as scapegoat and turns into the
accuser. While the gods struggle against the coming of ragnarök, he is the one holding up the mirror
for them, thereby reminding them that they have to bear the responsibility for the things to come. Yet
again, Loki appears as the enemy of the gods here, as the “evil” element among the gods. But as this
presentation has demonstrated, this is a very superficial interpretation of his role.

It is still worthwhile discussing Loki because he is often in a key position allowing us to question our
concept of Germanic mythology and understand its changeability, its intra- and extramythological
development and the impact of Christian ideas. In such a way we might say that there is no such thing
as a “system” or “category” within Germanic mythology (and not a single key to unlocking the
mystery surrounding the figure of Loki), but that the scholar has to learn to accept ambiguity and
flexibility as the real nature and challenge of Germanic mythology – and especially of Loki.
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i
Karl Weinhold (1849:13) calls Loki Obergott der elbischen Geister – compare Wilhelm Mannhardt (1858:86),
Elard H. Meyer (1891), Axel Kock (1899: 97f.), Paul Hermann (1903:410), Hermann Schneider (1938:248).
Eugen Mogk (Germanische Mythologie, dritter Neudruck. Berlin & Leipzig: G. J. Göschensche
Verlagsbuchhandlung GmbH, 1913, p. 55) calls Loki dämonischen Asen – compare Dumézil (1962:87), Jan de
Vries (1955:4), R. L. M. Derolez (1963:156), Jerold C. Frakes (1987:485). Sometimes Loki is called elf (as well
as Kobold) (e.g. Karl Weinhold 1849:13, E. J. Gras 1931:11, Friedrich von der Leyen 1938:193, Frank Stanton
Cawley 1939:315). Some scholars call Loki a giant (George T. Flom 1938-1939:143) or discuss his family tree
(Margaret Clunies Ross 1994:64).
ii
Greek diabolos = (false) accuser, slanderer
iii
John Lindow (1997:74) changes the translation into “dead body”. He interprets Baldr not as a sacrifice, but as
a figure who died in a battle.
iv
Ursula Dronke (1992:683) compares this scene to the American indian horse sacrifice: In this longe rite, the
priest whispers into the ear of the horse, as he prepares for the sacrifice, an enumeration of all the good fortunes
that will come to the land because of the sacrifice. Óðinn knows – because the völva has told him – what new life
awaits Baldr and his world. This whisper of the god or the priest is a spá – a prediction that brings fulfilment.
She calls Óðinn a sacrificial god (660) and states that he plays a role in the death of Baldr.
v
See Karl Hauck’s various articles published in the Frühmittelalterliche Studien. Jahrbuch des Instituts für
Frühmittelalterforschung der Universität Münster.
vi
This epic level is one of many levels according to my theory of a multi-layered mythology concept.
Unfortunately the explanation of this theory is beyond the scope of this presentation. For the purpose of this
presentation, it should be sufficient to understand this epic level as a level presenting an entertaining story of
gods, giants and other characters engaged in adventures taking place in a mythological backdrop. This level is
the basic mythological framework comparable to the canvas a painter needs in order to create a painting. It is the
simplest level that presents itself in an easily transmittable manner ensuring the continuity of mythological
content even when in the hands of people with less insight.
vii
Finnur Jónsson (1931 :449) connects this kenning to Þjazi.