LOKI: THE PRINCE OF LIES, BETRAYER OF THE GODS, AND ULTIMATELY ENEMY OF MANKIND
- Hrolfr
- Apr 29
- 44 min read
Introduction: Loki in Norse Faith and Heathen Perspective
Loki, also known as Loptr or Loki Laufeyjarson, is a complex figure in our Norse Faith – a blood-brother to Odin and often a travel companion of Thor, yet ultimately the treacherous architect of chaos among the gods. Our knowledge of Loki comes primarily from the medieval Icelandic sources: the Poetic Edda (a collection of old Norse poems) and the Prose Edda (a saga-like compilation by Snorri Sturluson), as well as skaldic poetry and later folklore. In these sources, Loki is depicted as a cunning trickster, a shapeshifter, and a betrayer who both delights in sowing disorder and, on occasion, solves problems he himself caused – though never out of true redemption or honor. In exploring Loki’s character and deeds, we adopt a tone and viewpoint rooted in the values of Odin’s Warrior Tribe – a modern heathen path that emphasizes honor, courage, and fidelity to the Aesir and Vanir. While we delve into scholarly detail, we also speak with the poetic reverence of our ancestors, as is the custom of the Tribe. We seek to understand Loki’s place in our Faith without glorifying him. In keeping with heathen tradition, we recognize that learning of Loki is necessary to grasp the full tapestry of Norse Faith, but we neither worship Loki nor hail him at our sacred gatherings (blót or sumbl), for to honor Loki is to invite chaos. This stance echoes what our ancestors likely felt: a wary acknowledgment of Loki’s role, but no evidence of any formal cult or active worship of this god of mischief1.
Following an overview of Loki’s portrayal in the Eddas – including select passages in the original Old Norse with translations – we will examine Loki’s key characteristics (the chaos-bringer, sly deceiver, shapeshifter, and oath-breaker). We will recount all of Loki’s children – from the monstrous wolf Fenrir and world-serpent Jörmungandr to Hel who rules over many dead, the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, and his lesser-known offspring Nari (or Narfi) and Váli. Loki’s infamous verbal duel in Lokasenna (the “Flyting of Loki”) will be explored through the insults he hurls at other gods, with a few original verses. We also discuss how Loki sometimes solved the very crises he precipitated, not as atonement but to evade punishment or to further his own ends. Throughout, Loki is portrayed as the embodiment of chaos – a necessary force in myth, perhaps, but one that true heathens approach with caution. In Odin’s Warrior Tribe philosophy, one may study Loki with respect for the insights gleaned, yet one does not offer him praise or invite him into ritual. We conclude by reflecting on how Loki’s ultimate betrayal – from his hand in Baldr’s death to leading the giants in Ragnarök – cements his legacy as an enemy of the gods and of humankind, a figure to learn from but not to honor.
Loki in the Eddas: Scholar and Shape-Changer, “Evil in Disposition”
In Snorri Sturluson’s Prose Edda, Loki is introduced with a telling description that captures his dual nature of pleasing form and foul character.
In the original Old Norse, Snorri writes:
“Loki er fríðr og fagr sýnum, illr í skaplyndi, ok mjög fjölbreytinn at háttum.
Hann hafði þá speki um fram aðra menn, er slægð heitir, ok vélar til allra hluta.”
Translated to English, this means: “Loki is handsome and fair of face, but evil in disposition, and very fickle in behavior. He surpassed others in the wisdom known as cunning and had tricks for every purpose.” This succinct characterization by Snorri highlights Loki’s beguiling exterior and clever mind, contrasted with his malignant temperament and capricious nature. He is attractive and even likable at first glance, yet his mind inclines toward mischief and malice. The phrase “mjög fjölbreytinn at háttum” literally means “very changeable in his ways,” nodding to Loki’s shapeshifting abilities and inconsistent loyalty. Indeed, throughout the tales Loki takes on many forms – a salmon, a mare, a fly, an old woman, among others – using magic and guile to achieve his aims. As Snorri notes, he possessed knowledge of “slægð” (cunning or deceitful arts) beyond any other. With this cunning, Loki often entangles the gods in troubles, only to sometimes help extricate them again. He is referred to by kennings such as “rígr bólsena” (meaning “king of lies” in some interpretive translations) and is often called rógberi ásanna – “slanderer of the gods” – in skaldic verse2. These epithets reinforce Loki’s reputation as a maligner and deceiver among the Aesir. It is significant that Loki is counted among the Aesir (the gods of Asgard) in many tales, yet he is not of their kin. Loki’s father is the giant (jötunn) Fárbauti, and his mother is Laufey (also called Nál). Whether she is jötunn does not seem so. Thus, Loki is at least half jötunn by blood. At some point, Odin and Loki became blood-brothers, a bond mentioned in the Eddic poem Lokasenna. This bond granted Loki a kind of admission into the halls of Asgard and the company of Odin’s tribe of gods – at least until his treachery outweighed the oath. We see the blood-brotherhood invoked by Loki himself during a feast, when the gods try to bar him from the hall:
‘Mantu þat, Óðinn, er vit í árdaga
blendum blóði saman?
Ǫlvi bergja léztu eigi mundu,
nema okkr væri báðum borit!“
Translated:
“Do you recall it, Óðinn, when in ancient days
we two blended blood together?
You said you wouldn’t taste ale,
unless it were brought to us both!”
Loki declares in Lokasenna (Old Norse above, with an English translation). He reminds Odin – and all present – that Odin swore an oath not to drink ale unless Loki was also served. This ancient camaraderie obligated Odin to let Loki join the gathering of gods. Such was Loki’s silver tongue and knowledge of oaths that he could temporarily shame Odin into honoring their old pact. Yet, as the tales show, Loki never truly honored anything beyond his own immediate interest. His inclusion among the Aesir was a privilege he would betray time and again. From a Norse heathen perspective, Loki’s presence in Asgard’s tales is paradoxical but purposeful. He is the catalyst for many of the stories: without Loki, there would be no drama to resolve, no tests of the gods’ wisdom or courage. He is the agent of chaos that propels the narrative forward. However, we in Odin’s Warrior Tribe remind that chaos, while it can spur growth or reveal truths, is not a thing to venerate. The old texts describe Loki with wariness and scorn – nowhere do they praise him with the reverence given to Thor’s strength or Odin’s wisdom. He is “illr í skaplyndi” (evil in disposition), a warning more than a model. As we proceed, we shall keep in mind this dual scholarly and honor-bound lens: understanding Loki’s role, but not losing sight of the moral lessons our ancestors may have gleaned from his treachery.
The Chaos-Bringer and Deceiver: Loki’s Key Characteristics
Loki’s defining traits in the Faith can be summarized as follows: he is a bringer of chaos, a clever deceiver, an irreverent insulter, a fearless shapeshifter, and ultimately a betrayer of the gods’ trust. Each of these characteristics is illustrated repeatedly in the Eddas, making Loki one of the most dynamic and infamous characters in Norse lore.
Instigator of Chaos: Nearly every major calamity that befalls the gods has Loki’s fingerprints on it. It is Loki who engineers the deadly scheme that kills the beloved god Baldr. Knowing that Baldr was immune to all weapons and elements except the mistletoe plant, Loki tricked Baldr’s blind brother, Höðr, into flinging a dart of mistletoe that struck Baldr dead3. This act of betrayal against Odin’s own son was considered among the worst crimes – fratricide and the slaying of a holy being – setting in motion the events that lead to Ragnarök. Earlier, Loki’s impulsive actions also brought chaos: he cut off the golden hair of Thor’s wife, Sif, as a wicked prank, nearly costing him his life under Thor’s wrath; he helped orchestrate the abduction of the goddess Iðunn and her life-giving apples, causing the gods to wither with age until Loki was forced to retrieve her; he insulted and provoked the gods in Aegir’s hall (Lokasenna), breaking the peace of a sacred feast with flyting and eventually drawing a deadly response. Time and again, Loki brings turmoil into the gods’ orderly realm.
Master of Deceit: Loki is a consummate liar and trickster. One Old Norse word used to describe him is “vélar”, meaning artifice, trickery, or deceits. He lies to the gods and to adversaries alike, shifting his promises as it suits him. For instance, when the giant master-builder was erecting the walls of Asgard, Loki initially aided the gods by suggesting a wager he thought the giant would lose, but when it became clear the giant might win (and claim the goddess Freyja as prize), Loki deceived the builder by changing shape into a mare and luring away his vital workhorse. Another example occurs in the Lokasenna poem: Loki boldly denies his misdeeds or reframes them to embarrass others. He accuses the gods of faults and crimes while denying his own, displaying a duplicitous double-standard – the hallmark of a sneaky rhetorician. Loki’s silver tongue often saves him in the short term; yet, in the end, his lies catch up to him, as the gods recall his treachery one by one.
Shapeshifter: Central to Loki’s bag of tricks is his ability to change form at will. The stories describe Loki transforming into various creatures: a salmon (when he tries to hide from the gods’ vengeance by swimming away, only to be caught in a net by Thor), a mare (to seduce the giant’s stallion, resulting in Loki giving birth to Sleipnir), a seal (in a contest with the giant Thiassi over the goddess Idunn’s apples), a fly (to harass the dwarf craftsmen Brokk and Eitri when they forged Thor’s hammer Mjolnir), and an old woman (named Thökk, who refuses to weep for Baldr in the underworld, ensuring Baldr cannot return from the dead – this old crone was Loki in disguise, thwarting Baldr’s resurrection)4. Loki’s shapeshifting is often an act of deception itself, a way to infiltrate or escape. In the Prose Edda, we see references to Loki’s many guises; for example, after he orchestrates Baldr’s murder, Loki flees and hides on a mountain, taking the shape of a salmon to evade capture. This fluidity of form symbolizes Loki’s mutable nature – he is not bound by the normal constraints or loyalties that hold others. A warrior of Odin might note that Loki has no steadfast honor or identity; he slips from one shape to the next as easily as he shifts from friend to foe.
Loki is bisexual. Loki is one of the most complex and fluid figures in the Norse pantheon, embodying roles that cross boundaries of gender, form, and even morality. Unlike most gods, not all, who typically maintain fixed identities, Loki is a shapeshifter—transforming not only into animals (like a salmon or a mare) but also taking on female identities. The assuming female roles may be more commonly acceptable today, and many may be attracted to Loki for that reason alone overlooking what his real nature of deceit and trickery. However, it was something unusual and provocative and not respected and considered shameful in the Norse time though clearly it was acknowledged. We have the stories of giving him getting pregnant and giving birth to Sleipnir, shapeshifting as a girl to accompany Thor to retrieve Mjolnir and this:
In Völuspá hin skamma (sometimes called The Short Völuspá), a lesser-known Eddic poem preserved in the Hyndluljóð section of the Flateyjarbók, Loki is said to have found Gullveig’s heart after she was burned.
"Loki fann heitið hjarta hennar,hann át það—hálfr var hann konafrá þeim degi.
"Loki found her burnt heart,he ate it—he was half woman from that day on."
The Flyting Insulter: Loki’s sharp wit is on full display in the poem Lokasenna, where he engages in a flyting – a contest of insults – against the gods in Aegir’s Hall. As is his sexuality with many of his insults are of a sexual nature. Here he is all bravado, showing no respect even to the highest and most fearsome of the gods. He mocks Bragi (the god of poetry) for cowardice, calls Idunn foolish and promiscuous, accuses Gefjon of indecencies, taunts Odin himself for unmanly magic and favoring elites in battle, declares that Frigg has slept with Odin’s brothers, and brands Freyja a wanton wife to all the elves and gods. Each insult is more scathing than the last. For example, Loki sneers at Odin with an accusation in Old Norse: “Þegi þú, Óðinn, … þú um sát seið í Sámseyju” – “Be silent, Odin… you practiced seiðr (witchcraft) on Samsey,” a charge that Odin degraded himself with women’s magic. He tells Freyja: “Þegi þú, Freyja, þú ert fordæða er kona…”, roughly “Shut up, Freyja, you damned witch of a woman,” and proceeds to claim she has taken all the gods and elves to her bed. In this dangerous game of verbal darts, Loki cares not for the consequences. It is only when Thor arrives and threatens him with Mjolnir that Loki relents and quits the hall – but not before one last jab. Thor shouts: “Þegi þú, rógvættr!” – “Silence, you vile creature of slander!” – warning he will crush Loki’s bones if he speaks another word5. Loki at last holds his tongue, slinking away with a parting shot that he only yields to Thor, never out of genuine humility. The Lokasenna episode cements Loki’s image as an insolent blasphemer, one who has no qualms about violating the sanctity of guest-right and the harmony of the divine community. For Odin’s Warrior Tribe, this tale is a stark reminder that even oaths of hospitality and kinship can be poisoned by dishonor, and that one must be vigilant against the snake in the garden, even if he once called you “brother.”
The Betrayer: Ultimately, Loki earns the title of betrayer by his most treasonous actions against those who trusted him. The tipping point in the tales is Loki’s hand in Baldr’s death – a beloved god killed through Loki’s malice – and Loki’s subsequent refusal to make amends. After Baldr’s death, the gods attempted to ransom him from Hel: all things in the world wept to bring Baldr back – all except one being, the giantess Thökk, who shed no tear, thus keeping Baldr in Hel’s realm. Thökk was, as noted, Loki in disguise4. This refusal to repent, literally adding salt to the wound by ensuring Baldr stayed dead, was a final betrayal. The gods could no longer tolerate Loki’s presence. Loki went into hiding to avoid their justice, but he could not escape it forever. The betrayal is sealed by Loki’s role in Ragnarök, the final battle. There, Loki has fully turned against the Aesir: he joins the giants and the forces of chaos to fight against the gods he once feasted with. He will sail the ship Naglfar, made from the nails of dead men, bearing the giants and the legions of Hel’s dishonored dead to the battlefield. At Ragnarök, Loki and the guardian god Heimdallr meet in combat and slay each other, according to Snorri’s account (and foreshadowed in an earlier poem)6. Loki’s journey from Odin’s sworn brother to worst enemy is thus complete – a trajectory defined by ever-deepening betrayal. In the eyes of our ancestors, such a betrayal of kinship and guest-friendship (breaking the most sacred oaths) made Loki a figure of infamy. The Hávamál (the Sayings of the High One) warns never to trust some who deceive:
“If you have another whom you mistrust,
but still wish to gain something from him,
you should speak fair words to him but think deceitfully,
and repay treachery with lies."
Father of Monsters: Loki’s Children and Progeny
Despite (or fittingly for) his treacherous nature, Loki is a prolific father, though his offspring are as strange and fearsome as any in mythology. In fact, the children of Loki play central roles in the cosmic drama of Norse Faith, including the coming of Ragnarök. Here we detail each of Loki’s known children, born of various unions, and the significance of each. As we recount them, we underscore how Loki’s legacy is literally to spawn chaos in the form of world-threatening monsters.
Fenrir – The Monstrous Wolf: Loki’s most infamous child is Fenrir (also called Fenrisúlfr), the giant wolf. Fenrir was born of Loki’s union with the giantess Angrboða (“Anguish-Boding”) in Jötunheim. From the start, the gods sensed that Fenrir was no ordinary wolf; prophecies (such as those hinted at in Völuspá) foretold that this wolf would grow to immense size and one day kill Odin himself at Ragnarök. In the Prose Edda, Snorri relates how the gods raised Fenrir in Asgard but only the brave god Tyr dared feed him, as the wolf grew swiftly and fearsomely. To contain Fenrir, the gods crafted mighty fetters: first Læding and then Dromi, which Fenrir easily burst. Finally, they commissioned the dwarves to forge a magical silk-like shackle called Gleipnir, made from six impossible ingredients (the sound of a cat’s footfall, a woman’s beard, the roots of a mountain, bear’s sinews, fish’s breath, and bird’s spittle)7. Though Gleipnir appeared soft, it was unbreakable. The gods challenged Fenrir to test this new fetter, appealing to his pride. Sensing a trap, Fenrir agreed only if one of the gods would place their hand in his mouth as a pledge of good faith. Týr, God of valor and honor, courageously volunteered. When Fenrir found himself unable to break Gleipnir, he bit off Tyr’s hand in rage, fulfilling the gods’ sacrifice. Fenrir was then secured to a rock and a sword placed in his jaws to hold them open. There he remains, howling and drooling spittle and blood, until the day of Ragnarök when he will finally break free. At Ragnarök, Fenrir charges into battle; as foretold, he devours Odin before being slain by Odin’s son Víðarr in vengeance. Fenrir’s story is a direct consequence of Loki’s lineage: through Fenrir, Loki’s chaotic bloodline brings about the fall of the Allfather himself. No creature is more emblematic of raw destructive chaos than Fenrir, the wolf that swallows the sun (a kenning from Völuspá calls a wolf “tungls tjúgari,” “sky-wolf who devours the moon”)8. Little wonder that heathens of old would never seek the favor of Fenrir’s father, Loki, in their rites – it was Loki’s spawn that would one day threaten the very cosmos.
Jörmungandr – The World Serpent: Another child of Loki and the giantess Angrboða is Jörmungandr, the colossal serpent that encircles the world. Also known as the Midgard Serpent, this creature was cast into the ocean by Odin when the gods discovered Loki’s monstrous children. There in the depths, Jörmungandr grew until he was so large that he could encircle the entire world and bite his own tail – earning the name World Serpent. The presence of this leviathan in the ocean is the source of earthquakes and tidal waves in Norse Faith (when he shifts, the seas swell). Jörmungandr’s destiny is tightly bound to Thor. In one tale, Thor tries to fish the serpent from the sea and nearly succeeds in dragging Jörmungandr to the surface before the giant Hymir, in fear, cuts Thor’s fishing line. The ultimate confrontation comes at Ragnarök: Jörmungandr will rise from the ocean, poisoning the sky with his venom, and Thor will battle him to the death. Thor succeeds in slaying the great serpent, but after taking nine steps he succumbs to the serpent’s lethal poison. Thus, Loki’s son and Odin’s son (Thor) destroy each other – a striking symbol of how Loki’s chaos forces a costly toll on the gods. In Voluspa, the dark prophecy describes this clash and the fallout: “Þór mun eiga frumverð bitan / ... / Miðgarðsormr mænir í jǫtunmóði” – “Thor goes forth, the Midgard Serpent writhes in giant fury” (paraphrased from Völuspá)9. Jörmungandr, as a child of Loki, embodies the inevitability of chaos returning to attack the world. To the ancestors, the World Serpent was likely an object of dread, not veneration – a being to propitiate maybe in hopes of safety, but never a god to hail in a joyous feast. And in Loki, father of this serpent, we see again an association with world-threatening chaos.
Hel – Ruler of the Underworld: The third child born of Loki and Angrboða is Hel, the ruler who presides over the realm of the dead (often called Helheim or simply Hel). According to Snorri’s account, Hel was cast out by Odin to the underworld, given authority over those who die of illness or old age – any who do not fall gloriously in battle (those chosen by Odin go to Valhalla, those by Freyja to Fólkvangr). Hel’s appearance is described as half alive and beautiful, half dead and corpse-like – a reflection of her mixed parentage and grim nature. She is often depicted as a woman with one side of her face or body in a state of decay. Hel’s dwelling is Niflhel, a cold, misty realm beneath one of the roots of Yggdrasil. In the tales, it is to Hel that Baldr goes after his death. Hel agrees to release Baldr only if all things weep for him – a condition Loki subverts, as discussed, ensuring Baldr remains with her. During Ragnarök, Hel will unleash an army of the dead (sometimes called Hel’s brood or) to fight the gods. Loki is often described as leading these forces, effectively wielding the might of his daughter’s kingdom against the Aesir. The very concept of Hel carries a negative connotation in Norse lore – it is a place of gloom and finality. As Loki’s progeny, Hel personifies a sort of cosmic ill-fate: a necessary part of the cycle of life and death, but grim and not to be glorified. The ancestors likely did not worship Hel (just as Loki was not worshipped), though they acknowledged her power. In our modern Heathen understanding, we approach Hel and her father Loki with respect for their place in the story, but we do not call on them in ritual, for their gifts are misfortune and entropy. Hel is indeed as ruler over the dead a special case, but it seems many of the dead will follow Loki though she is not included with her father in the end times.
Sleipnir – Odin’s Eight-Legged Steed: Perhaps the most curious of Loki’s offspring is Sleipnir, the gray eight-legged horse of Odin. The story of Sleipnir’s birth is told in Skáldskaparmál (a section of the Prose Edda). When a giant (in disguise as a mortal builder) offered to build fortifications around Asgard in exchange for the sun, moon, and Freyja, the gods agreed to a seemingly impossible deadline, thanks to Loki’s persuasion – but the giant had a powerful stallion, Svaðilfari, who did most of the heavy work at night. As it became clear the giant might succeed, the gods threatened Loki for his bad advice. To fix the situation he had created, Loki transformed himself into a beautiful mare and lured Svaðilfari away, causing the giant to lose the wager. Loki vanished with the stallion, and some time later returned pregnant and gave birth to Sleipnir. He presented this extraordinary foal – “the best of all horses” – to Odin as a gift (or recompense). In Old Norse, Snorri dryly notes: “Af þessum atburði eignaðist Loki son þann er Sleipnir heitir, er hafði átta fætur” – “From these events Loki produced a son named Sleipnir, who has eight legs” (paraphrasing Skáldskaparmál)10. Unlike Loki’s other children, Sleipnir is not a force of destruction. Instead, Sleipnir becomes a prized steed, carrying Odin on many adventures (including riding to Hel to attempt to retrieve Baldr). Sleipnir is a rare case of Loki’s offspring being beneficial to the Aesir. However, it’s crucial to note that Sleipnir’s birth came about through Loki’s deception and shapeshifting, and its purpose was to clean up a mess of Loki’s own making. The story is often told with a bit of humor – Loki, the male trickster, mothering a horse – showing even the gods can be embarrassed. Among Odin’s Warrior Tribe, one might chuckle at the absurdity of it, yet there’s a lesson in responsibility: Loki had to “carry” the burden (literally) of resolving the trouble he caused. Sleipnir, as Odin’s mount, is honored by proxy of Odin, but Loki’s role in siring Sleipnir remains a cautionary tale of how far his trickery can lead.
Nari (Narfi) and Váli – The Tragic Sons of Loki: Loki’s final set of offspring are born not of a giantess or shapeshifting tryst, but from his wife, the goddess Sigyn listed as a goddess in the Prose Edda). Sigyn is described as Loki’s faithful wife, who remains by his side even after his crimes, showcasing an admirable if heart-rending loyalty. With Sigyn, Loki has two sons often named Nari (or Narfi) and Váli (not to be confused with Odin’s son Váli). These sons are not famous like Loki’s monstrous children; rather, they become pawns in Loki’s fate. After Loki’s role in Baldr’s murder is revealed and he is finally captured by the gods, the Aesir take vicious revenge using Loki’s own offspring. As Snorri recounts in Gylfaginning, the gods transformed Loki’s son Váli into a rabid wolf, who then fell upon his brother Nari and tore him apart. The gods then took Nari’s entrails and used them to bind Loki to three stones, tightening the bonds by magical means so they turned to iron. It is a gruesome scene: the once shape-shifting trickster rendered immobile by the innards of his own child. Above Loki a serpent was fixed, dripping venom onto his face as further torment. Sigyn, in heartbreak, stayed by Loki’s side, catching the venom in a bowl to spare him – but whenever she left to empty the bowl, the poison struck Loki’s face and he writhed in agony, causing earthquakes in Midgard. Thus, Loki is fated to languish in pain until Ragnarök, when he will break free to seek final vengeance. The death of Nari and Váli is a somber footnote in Loki’s saga, illustrating that Loki’s sins brought ruin upon his own innocent family. For a path like Odin’s Warrior Tribe that holds the family and frith (peace) as sacred, Loki’s story serves as a dire warning: those who sow betrayal and dishonor may reap even their own kin’s blood as punishment. In no sense are Nari and Váli honored or invoked by heathens – their memory survives only as part of Loki’s tragic punishment.
In summation, Loki’s children span the spectrum from dread monstrosities (Fenrir, Jörmungandr, Hel) to an almost comic byproduct of mischief (Sleipnir), to the tragic casualties of his downfall (Nari and Váli). Each one reflects an aspect of Loki’s nature: Fenrir and Jörmungandr embody his destructive chaos, Hel his connection to death and darkness, Sleipnir his cunning (ironically turned to a positive result), and Nari/Váli the collateral damage of his treachery. The Norse sources thoroughly establish that Loki is a father of chaos in a very literal sense – and notably, none of these children are said to have been worshipped by the Norse in ritual contexts. They are characters in the mythic drama, not gods to be honored with sacrifices by mortal worshippers. This again underscores the special status of Loki (and brood) in the Norse worldview: fascinating, fearsome, necessary for the story’s movement, but standing apart from the gods who uphold cosmic order and frith.
Loki’s Flyting (Lokasenna): Insults and Accusations in Old Norse
One of the most vivid episodes involving Loki is the Lokasenna, found in the Poetic Edda. “Lokasenna” means “Loki’s Senna (or feud/quarrel),” often translated as “The Flyting of Loki.” This Eddic poem is essentially a catalog of insults Loki hurls at each of the gods during a feast hosted by Ægir (the sea-giant with powers over the sea and spouse of the Goddess Ran – together they have the nine daughters of the waves). The scene is rich with drama and provides crucial insights into how Loki was viewed by the Norse storytellers: clever yet malevolent, humorous yet offensive, and ultimately deserving of punishment. The poem starts with a setting of peace: the gods are enjoying Ægir’s hospitality with ale flowing. But Loki, uninvited due to his past misdeeds, sneaks into the hall after murdering Ægir’s servant, and immediately begins to sow discord. He demands a seat and a share of the ale, invoking the blood-oath with Odin as mentioned earlier. Once seated, Loki proceeds to insult nearly everyone present. Here we will highlight a few of Loki’s targeted insults, with a taste of the original Old Norse and translations, to appreciate the flavor of this ancient contest of wit and slander:
Loki vs. Bragi (the Skald of the Gods): Bragi offers Loki a peace-gift to calm him, but Loki responds by calling Bragi a coward who would flee from any fight. He says Bragi is brave only on the bench (in poetry) but not in battle. Bragi’s wife Iðunn tries to intervene, and Loki then slanders her too, accusing her of embracing her brother’s killer – a baseless claim meant only to shock. Though the exact Old Norse lines to Iðunn are lost (the poem notes Iðunn’s attempt to defuse Loki), one translation has Loki sneer: “Be silent, Iðunn, I declare that of all women you are lewdest in lust!” – an attack on her fidelity, which has no known basis, showcasing Loki’s willingness to lie simply to offend.
Loki vs. Odin: Some of the most striking exchanges are between Loki and Odin, given their former friendship. Loki, emboldened by drink and malice, dares to accuse Odin of moral hypocrisy and unmanly behavior. In one verse, Loki says (Old Norse):
‘Þegi þú, Óðinn! Þú kunnir aldregi
deila víg með verum;
opt þú gaft þeim er þú gefa skyldira,
inum slævurum, sigr!”
While it is difficult to translate word-for-word poetically, the essence is:
“Silence, Óðinn! You never knew how
to share out battles among men;
often you gave to those you shouldn’t have given,
to the less valiant, victory!’”
Loki accuses Odin of being ósannr (unjust) in distributing victory, a bold claim against the Allfather’s honor. Further, Loki alludes to Odin’s secret practices of seiðr (sorcery typically associated with women). Another verse (alluded to above) has Loki mocking Odin for dressing as a witch on the island of Samsey (Samsø) to learn magic, implying this was shameful and Ergi (unmanly). These insults cut deeply because, in the warrior ethos of the Norse, accusing a man of effeminate or dishonorable conduct was a grave slight. Yet Odin, perhaps constrained by hospitality and the shock of Loki’s audacity, does not strike Loki down on the spot. Instead, Odin trades insults: he reminds Loki of a time when Loki spent eight winters beneath the earth milking cows as a woman – another story implying sexual perversion or shape-changed disgrace for Loki. The flyting thus escalates with each trading a blow to the other’s reputation.
Loki vs. the Goddesses (Frigg and Freyja): Loki shows no restraint even toward the revered goddesses. He tells Frigg (Odin’s wife and Baldr’s mother) that it was he who caused the death of her son Baldr:
‘Þegi þú, Frigg! Þú ert Fjǫrgyns mær
ok hefir æ vergjǫrn verit,
er þá Véa ok Vilja léztu þér, Viðris kvæn,
báða í baðm um tekit!
‘Silence, Frigg! You’re Fjǫrgynn’s daughter,
and have always been man-eager,
since, Viðrir’s wife, you took both
Véi and Vili in your embrace!
Here Loki not only delights in Baldr’s death under her watch but accuses Frigg of adultery with Odin’s own brothers (a rare mention of this mythic rumor). Frigg is furious and says if she had a son in the hall Loki’s life would be forfeit. Loki then turns to Freyja, the goddess of love, accusing her of being immoral:
‘Þegi þú, Freyja! Þik kann ek fullgerva,
era þér vamma vant;
Ása ok álfa er hér inni eru,
hverr hefir þinn hór verit!
“Shut up, Freyja! I shall tell all your shame, since we’re speaking openly: every single Æsir and elf here in this hall has been your lover.”
This is an extreme affront: calling Freyja a whore who has slept with everyone present. Freyja’s husband (Óðr) is absent in myth, and Freyja’s own reputation had some sexual freedom (she’s accused of sleeping for the Brisingamen necklace), but Loki greatly exaggerates to demean her. Freyja’s response in the poem is only tears of anger, as her father Njörd then speaks up to trade insults with Loki, to little avail.
Loki vs. Njörd and Tyr: Loki does not spare Njörðr (the sea-God of the Vanir), even mocking that he was sent as a hostage from the Vanir and had an incestuous union (Njörðr’s children Freyja and Freyr were borne by his own sister, per lore).
“Hættu nú, Njǫrðr, haf þú á hófi þik!
Munka ek því leyna lengr:
við systur þinni gaztu slíkan mǫg,
ok era þó ónu verr!“
‘Leave off now, Njǫrðr, keep yourself in check!
I’ll not keep this secret any longer:
you begot such a boy on your sister,
and yet that’s no worse than expected!”
From Ynglinga saga, which is the first saga in Heimskringla by Snorri Sturluson, we read,
"Njǫrðr hafði þá systur sína at konu, því at þá var þat lög hjá Vǫnum at taka systur sína til eiginkonu."
Translation:
"Njǫrðr had then his sister as wife, for it was then the custom among the Vanir to marry one’s own sister."
Loki says it outright to Njörðr: that such a parentage was disgraceful. Njörðr responds by highlighting one of Loki’s shameful episodes: that Loki bore children (Sleipnir) and also that one time Loki was the milkmaid (referencing the milking-cow story Odin mentioned). The hall likely roars with uncomfortable laughter at this inversion of gender roles, a source of shame in that culture. Next, Týr the one-handed tries to silence Loki, but Loki even mocks Týr’s loss of his hand:
"Loki kvað:
Þegi þú, Týr! Þú kunnir aldregi
bera tilt með tveim;
handar innar hœgri mun ek hennar geta,
er þér sleit Fenrir frá!"
Essentially:
"Loki said:
‘Silence, Týr! You never knew how to
make fair [peace] between two [parties];95
I will refer to it, the right hand
which Fenrir tore from you!’
Loki turns Týr’s act of bravery (sacrificing his hand to bind Fenrir) into an insult about his maiming. Týr, undaunted, says at least he lost a hand to save the gods, whereas Loki is bound to lose his whole head for his evil. This kind of sharp retort shows the gods are getting fed up with Loki’s jabs.
Loki vs. Heimdall, and Skadi’s Ominous Threat: Even the normally quiet Heimdallr (watchman of the gods) gets an insult: Loki sneers that Heimdall must always have a wet, mucky back, since he stands outdoors in all-weather keeping watch – implying that Heimdall is basically a mud-crawling peon. Finally, the giantess Skadi (wife of Njörðr and daughter of the slain giant Thjazi) speaks. Skadi has personal enmity for Loki because Loki was involved in her father’s death (he helped the Aesir kill Thjazi). Skadi coldly tells Loki that for his malice, “bonds and hot venom await you.” Loki responds that even if so, “éf loga leika / af lausn mínu” – “if I must endure bonds, know that I was first and foremost at the killing of Thjazi, father of Skadi” (boasting he caused her father’s end), and furthermore that “Skadi, I made you laugh” – referring to how Loki, in an earlier story, tied his testicles to a goat to make Skadi laugh as part of wergild for Thjazi’s death. The gall of Loki to remind Skadi of this indecent act in front of everyone is astounding – it shows there’s no line he won’t cross. Skadi’s threat, however, is the final foreshadowing: she says Loki will be bound with the entrails of his son – a direct reference to what will indeed happen to Loki. Thus, the poem itself foreshadows Loki’s fate, and likely this was added by the poet with knowledge of Loki’s punishment myth.
Thor Silences Loki: At last Thor arrives, late to the feast, and he is furious to find the hall in disarray. Thor wastes no time on clever words – he simply threatens to smash Loki’s skull if he doesn’t shut up. He says in effect, “Be silent, creature of mischief, or Mjolnir will send you to Hel!” Loki knows Thor is not one to trifle with at this point. In the poem’s final stanzas, Loki relents. One translation has Loki concluding: “I spoke before the Æsir, I spoke before the sons of the Æsir, what my spirit urged me to say. But before you alone do I back away, for I know you will strike – you will not spare.” Loki then leaves the hall, shifting into a fish’s form to hide, but as we know, the gods soon capture and bind him.
The Lokasenna is a treasure trove for scholars because it preserves the Old Norse cultural values and taboos via Loki’s transgressive speech. Every insult Loki makes is essentially highlighting something considered shameful or scandalous: sexual impropriety, loss of honor, cowardice, breach of duty, etc. The entertainment of the poem comes from Loki saying the unsayable, but the outcome – his punishment – reasserts the moral order. For the Odin’s Warrior Tribe, Lokasenna can be read as a lesson in the importance of honor and respect. Each god Loki insults embodies a certain virtue or status; Loki’s attempt to drag them down reflects how a malicious individual can try to erode the honor of a community. Yet in the end, the community (in the form of Thor and the others) expels the dishonorable villain. The poem ends with the restoration of peace (once Loki is gone, Ægir’s hall can return to merriment) and the promise that Loki’s comeuppance is at hand. Including passages in Old Norse here serves not only to give authenticity to the study but to connect us viscerally to the voices of our ancestors. One can almost hear the hall hush at “Þegi þú, Freyja!” or rumble with anger at Loki’s jibes about Fenrir and Týr. The beauty of the poetic language, even when used for insult, carries a rhythm and force like the verses of a skald. As modern heathens, we honor these ancient words by quoting and studying them, but we heed their content by not imitating Loki’s behavior. As the Hávamál teaches, one should be courteous among guests and repay insult with measured response, not be the first to fling slander. Loki’s fate in Lokasenna reminds us that a poisonous tongue can doom even the mightiest.
The Mischief-Maker: Problems Caused and Problems Solved (but No Redemption)
A curious aspect of Loki’s tales is that while he is often the cause of dire problems, he is also sometimes the one who helps fix those problems. However, it is critical to note that Loki’s interventions to solve crises are almost never out of genuine remorse or desire to do good – rather, Loki fixes issues to save his own skin or because he’s forced to by the other gods. There is no true redemption arc for Loki; each fix is just a prelude to the next misdeed. Let’s examine a few instances of this pattern:
Sif’s Golden Hair and the Treasures of the Gods: When Loki mischievously cut off the hair of Sif, Thor’s wife, Thor’s fury was so great that Loki feared for his life. Loki promised to rectify the situation. To do so, he went to the dwarves (the master smiths) and commissioned not only new hair for Sif made of gold that would magically grow like real hair, but also other treasures: the ship Skíðblaðnir for Freyr and the spear Gungnir for Odin. Still not content, Loki’s meddling led to the creation of additional gifts: Thor’s hammer Mjölnir among them (this occurred because Loki wagered his own head with dwarven brothers Brokk and Eitri that they couldn’t equal the first treasures; they then made Mjölnir and other items, and Loki, trying to sabotage them as a fly, failed). In the end, Loki saved himself from Thor’s wrath by improving upon what he had ruined – Sif got glorious golden hair and the gods gained wondrous weapons. Yet Loki only did this under duress. And true to form, he even tried to weasel out of paying his wagered “head” to the dwarves by arguing they couldn’t take his neck. Thus even in making amends, Loki found a loophole to avoid full punishment (though Brokk did sew Loki’s lips shut as a lesson, according to some versions). The gods benefitted, but it wasn’t thanks to Loki’s benevolence – it was an extorted solution.
Iðunn and her Apples: In another tale, Loki causes the goddess Iðunn, keeper of the apples of youth, to be kidnapped by the giant Thjazi. Depending on the version, Loki either lured Iðunn out of Asgard where Thjazi (in eagle form) snatched her, or Loki was captured by Thjazi and bargained Iðunn’s freedom for his own. Either way, once Iðunn was gone, the gods began to age and realized Loki was to blame. They threatened him with a cruel death if he did not retrieve her. Loki promptly borrowed Freyja’s falcon cloak, flew to Jötunheim, found Iðunn, transformed her into a nut (or sparrow) and escaped with her while Thjazi pursued. The gods managed to kill Thjazi and thus Loki returned Iðunn and her apples, restoring youth to the Aesir. Again, Loki solved the very crisis he created, but only to avoid the consequences (the gods would have surely killed him had he failed). There’s no indication Loki felt regret for endangering Iðunn; in fact, in Lokasenna, Loki even boasts about Thjazi’s death to taunt Skadi (Thjazi’s daughter), taking pride in the outcome. So, while the gods might grudgingly acknowledge Loki’s clever rescue, they would not forget it was Loki’s deceit that necessitated the rescue in the first place.
The Building of Asgard’s Wall: As mentioned with Sleipnir, Loki brokered the deal with the giant builder and later sabotaged it by turning into a mare. In this case, Loki’s actions initially put Asgard at risk (the giant would win a horrible price if he finished the wall, and when the gods tried to break the deal, the enraged giant threatened them). By luring away the horse, Loki ensured the giant’s failure at the last moment, prompting Thor to then kill the giant, sparing Asgard from the deal. This is a classic example where Loki is both the villain (for setting up a dangerous bargain) and the unlikely savior (for nullifying the bargain when things went wrong). Did Loki do it out of love for Asgard? Hardly – he did it because the gods promised him a terrible fate if he didn’t prevent the giant’s victory. Loki’s motivation was self-preservation. Yet, once again, Asgard came out ahead: they got their defensive wall mostly built for free, and kept the sun, moon, and Freyja. It’s an interesting moral conundrum – without Loki’s initial scheme, they wouldn’t have attempted the wall in that way; but without Loki’s trickery at the end, they would have paid dearly. Loki is thus a catalyst for progress even as he is a source of peril. But Norse moral sensibilities do not celebrate him for it; instead, Loki’s role is that of a dangerous tool. One might use poison to cure another poison, but one does not admire the poison.
Getting Thor’s Hammer Back: In the poem Þrymskviða, the giant Thrym steals Thor’s hammer Mjölnir and demands Freyja as his bride in exchange for its return. It is Loki who devises the plan to resolve this: he encourages Thor to disguise himself as the bride (with Loki himself dressing as the bridesmaid) and go to Thrym’s hall. Loki accompanies Thor and helps deceive the giants at the wedding feast until Thor can grab Mjölnir and lay waste to them, regaining his hammer. Notably, in this adventure, Loki is actually helping to solve a problem he did not cause (for once!). He seems to do so out of his own initiative, maybe because he enjoys the trickery involved or simply to stay in the gods’ good graces. In Þrymskviða, Loki’s quick tongue explains away Thor’s strange behavior (such as “Freyja” eating an ox and drinking many barrels of mead – Loki says “she” had not eaten in 8 days from excitement). This shows Loki’s capability as a problem solver when he wants to be. However, it is worth noting that in this myth, Loki could be partly to blame for not detecting Thrym’s plot earlier (as the resident trickster, one might expect Loki to keep an eye on the giants’ mischief). Regardless, this story is one of the few where Loki’s involvement is mostly positive – though even here, it’s Thor’s strength that achieves the final victory. Loki simply facilitated it. And as usual, Loki’s “heroic” moments are often fueled by coercion or fear.
Throughout these instances, a pattern emerges: Loki operates not from a place of honor or duty, but from compulsion, fear, or personal gain. He is akin to a rogue agent whose interests occasionally align with the greater good, but only incidentally. This is why we say Loki’s help is “not as redemption.” He doesn’t atone or express regret; he doesn’t restore what he broke out of a newfound sense of justice – he does it because a figurative (or literal) axe is over his neck. Once the immediate danger passes, Loki returns to his default mischief. From an Odin’s Warrior Tribe standpoint, this aspect of Loki teaches us that good ends achieved by dishonorable means carry no true honor. We value why and how a thing is done, not just the outcome. A warrior who solves a crisis he caused through deception is not heralded as a hero; he’s regarded warily as a loose arrow that might fly astray again. The gods tolerate Loki for as long as they need to, but the trust is eroded until it shatters completely. This reinforces our approach: we may learn from Loki’s cleverness and even laugh at the outrageous stories, but we do not exalt him. Unlike Thor, who defends Asgard out of duty and courage, Loki defends it only by accident or compulsion. Thus, he earns no honor for those deeds among the tribe of the gods or among mortal heathens who emulate those gods.
Loki as Chaos Incarnate – The Caution in Honoring Him
In Norse cosmology, a tension exists between order and chaos. The Aesir (and Vanir) gods generally represent forces of cosmic order, growth, prosperity, and civilization – Odin’s wisdom, Thor’s protection, Freyr’s fertility, Tyr’s justice, etc. The giants (jötnar), in contrast, often personify wild nature or cosmic entropy – primal fire, ice, the wild sea, death. Loki is a unique figure in that, by blood he is at least half-jötunn, yet he moves among the gods. In him, the chaotic element of the giants is carried into the heart of Asgard. One could say Loki is chaos incarnate within the inner circle of the cosmos’ guardians. This position makes Loki simultaneously useful (he can think outside the constraints the gods normally follow) and exceedingly dangerous. To the question of honoring Loki: the lore and historical evidence suggest that Loki was not venerated in the way major gods were. Whereas we have ample evidence of cult worship for Odin, Thor, Freyr, Freyja, and others (place names, dedications, descriptions by historians like Tacitus or Ibn Fadlan, etc.), Loki is conspicuously absent from such records1. There are no known temples or ceremonies devoted to Loki in the old Heathen period. This absence aligns well with his role as a disruptive force. It’s one thing to tell stories about Loki around the hearth; it’s another to invite him to your Ve or altar. The Norse likely viewed Loki with a mix of fascination and fear, but did not propitiate him for blessings. We say, “Honor the gods, but beware of honor to Loki, for Loki will repay honor with chaos.” In essence, to “invite” Loki via worship is to court misfortune. Within Odin’s Warrior Tribe, our philosophy mirrors ancient wisdom. We respect the lesson Loki’s saga teaches – which is why we study him – but we do not hail Loki at blót or sumbl. In a blót (sacrificial ritual or offering), one typically calls on gods or wights that one seeks to honor and gain favor from. Sacrificing to Loki would be seen as aligning oneself with a force of treachery; not a wise move for those who seek the protection of the Aesir. Similarly, in sumbl (the ritual drinking round where toasts are made), to toast Loki (“hail Loki”) is viewed by the Tribe as a grievous breach of etiquette – it would sour the mood at best, and at worst, symbolically invite chaos into the hall. Such an act could be seen as an insult to any guests present who have suffered misfortunes (would you hail the cause of mishap?). Our ancestors likely never did so; in the sagas, there’s no mention of someone raising a horn “to Loki.” Instead, Loki is spoken of in third person as an example or in mythic context, not as a recipient of praise or prayer. But why, one might ask, include Loki in the pantheon at all if he’s so malign? The answer is that Loki’s presence in the stories serves an explanatory and cautionary function. Every culture’s mythology includes antagonists or tricksters – forces that test the heroes and stir conflict so that virtues can shine. In the Norse worldview, Loki (and some of the giants) play that role. They are part of the grand design, even if fated to be on the losing side come Ragnarök. One could argue that without Loki, the Norse tales would lack some of their most meaningful lessons. For example, Loki’s betrayal leading to Ragnarök can be read as a commentary on how internal treachery can lead to downfall, even in the strongest society. It is a reminder that one’s own inner circle must be held to standards of honor, lest a hidden traitor undo everything. Honoring Loki, then, would invert the moral of the story. It would be akin to praising the sickness instead of the cure or lauding the traitor instead of the loyal friend. A warrior tribe oriented around Odin and the Aesir finds its inspiration in those deities who exemplify honor, bravery, wisdom, and kinship bonds. Loki represents the breakdown of those bonds – he is a pact-breaker (breaking his oath to Odin and the hospitality of Ægir’s hall), whereas our spiritual practice centers on oath-keeping. In a poetic sense, to honor Loki is to dishonor the very concept of honor. The old Heathens likely understood this intuitively. They did not need to label Loki as “evil” in a moralistic sense (Norse tales is not about absolute good vs. evil in the Christian way), but they did understand Loki as antagonistic to the communal good. Thus, Loki is given his due as a character in the tales, but one would not honor him with a god pole or statue on their altar though a depiction in another place perhaps. It’s worth noting that in modern times, there are some pagans or Heathens who do cultivate Loki in their practice (often calling themselves “Lokeans”). However, such practice is controversial and not part of what we see as mainstream heathenry nor our practice.
Marvel Loki:
Tom Hiddleston’s Loki became a fan favorite in the Marvel universe, spawning immense fanfiction, memes, cosplay, and merchandise. His blend of Shakespearean eloquence, dry humor, and moral ambiguity gave him antihero appeal morally gray but to many irresistible. The Loki series further deepened this, casting him as a central figure in the multiverse narrative and reflecting on free will, identity, and redemption. So, in this case a comic book series and films have shaped many people's image of the Prince of Lies. The Marvel Loki might try to save the world; the real Loki seeks to end it.
Our View:
Odin’s Warrior Tribe, grounded in reconstructionist ethos yet bringing it up to date, takes the more traditional stance: we don’t hail Loki. This doesn’t mean suppressing Loki’s stories – on the contrary, we speak them often, with the frankness you saw in the Lokasenna verses above, and we even find insights in Loki’s cunning. But when it comes time to pour out the mead horn in offering, we call on Odin, Thor, Tyr, Freyja, and so on – not Loki. Even invoking Loki’s name inside a vé (sacred enclosure) is considered by many to be provoking mischief when solemnity is needed. Simply put, we keep Loki in the lore, not in the ritual. A phrase encapsulating Loki’s nature is “Loki er upphaf allrar ófár” – “Loki is the start of all misfortune.” While an exaggeration (not every mishap is Loki’s doing), it rings true in the context of the tales: Loki either started or escalated the events that lead to the twilight of the gods. As such, we treat Loki intellectually, not devotionally. We honor the wisdom gained from Loki’s saga, rather than honoring Loki himself. This distinction is crucial and is consistent with an ancestor-conscious approach. The ancestors, by all accounts, did not toast Loki at sumbel; neither shall we. Instead, we may offer a cautionary tale about Loki – for instance, we say he has wit and cunning but we care not not his spite, acknowledging the two-edged lesson. To invite Loki (through worship) is to invite the uncontrolled forces of chaos into one’s life. Stories abound in modern heathen circles of people who claim that after making offerings to Loki, their lives were turned upside down – whether one believes that literally or sees it as psychological, the symbolism holds. Thus, the Tribe’s advice is clear: learn from Loki, even make a jest about him when appropriate, but do not make him your patron. Our path is one of honor, strength, and loyalty – traits Loki ultimately spits upon.
Loki and the End of All Things: Ragnarök and Legacy
No exploration of Loki is complete without addressing Ragnarök, the cataclysmic end-of-the-world scenario in Norse tales, and Loki’s role in it. Ragnarök (Old Norse Ragnarök meaning “Fate of the Powers”) is prophesied in the Poetic Edda (Völuspá in particular) and expanded upon in Snorri’s Prose Edda. Loki is a key villain in this final act – arguably the key villain aside from the prime movers Surt (the fire-giant who burns the world) and perhaps Fenrir who slays Odin. Let’s recap Loki’s journey into Ragnarök and what it signifies: After his binding and years of torment beneath the earth with the serpent’s venom (as described earlier), Loki is foretold to break free when Ragnarök approaches. The convulsions of the earth (earthquakes) from Loki’s writhing and perhaps Fenrir’s strain will signal the loosening of bonds. The Völuspá (Prophecy of the Seeress) implies that Loki (sometimes described as the bound figure) will be freed: “Fey are the ties that bind the untruthful trickster; at Ragnarök, the wolf runs free.” (This is a poetic paraphrase; the original text is dense with imagery). Snorri’s Gylfaginning gives a dramatic account: when the signs of Ragnarök appear – the Fimbulwinter (mighty winter), the breaking of oaths, the howling of cocks in the nine worlds – Loki’s bonds snap. The ship Naglfar is released from its moorings (as floods from Jörmungandr’s stirring occur), and the giants led by Hrym prepare to sail. In Snorri’s version, Loki himself pilots Naglfar, steering the forces of chaos (the giants of Muspellheim and presumably hordesfrom Hel) toward the battlefield of Vígríðr. This imagery is powerful: Loki as the helmsman of the apocalypse, literally steering doom toward the gods he once dined with. It marks the final break of all bonds – not only is Loki free of his physical chains, but free of any remaining bond of loyalty or blood to Odin. On the field of Ragnarök, Loki stands against the Aesir. The Völuspá doesn’t explicitly name Loki in the fight (it focuses more on the general chaos and key pairings like Fenrir vs Odin, Thor vs Jörmungandr, Freyr vs Surt). However, another eddic poem, Völuspá hin skamma (short Völuspá) and Snorri’s account say that Heimdallr (the watchman god) will face Loki. Heimdall, ever vigilant and loyal, and Loki, the deceiver, are fated to slay one another in single combat6. This encounter is fitting, as Heimdall and Loki had an antagonism in earlier tales (they competed over the Brisingamen necklace in one story). The symbolism is rich: the guardian vs the trickster, order vs chaos, both falling together – suggesting that in the end, the cosmos cannot survive such internal strife without mutual destruction.
But Heimdall can see much further. One of the reasons I personally am fond of Neil Gamon is that he captures that ability and significance so eloquently in his retelling of our Norse tales in his “Norse Mythology,” when Heimdall and Loki have mortally wounded each other at Ragnarök, Heimdall says,
“I can see further than you Loki, I can see all the way to the World Tree. Heimdall tells him with his last breath. Surt’s fire cannot touch the World Tree and two people have hidden themselves safely in the trunk of Yggdrasil. The woman is called Life, the man is called Life’s yearning. Their descendants will populate the Earth. It is not the end. There is no end. It is simply the end of the old times, Loki, and the beginning of the new times. Rebirth always follows death. You have failed. Loki would say something, something cutting and clever and hurtful, but his life will be gone, and all his brilliance, and all his cruelty, and he will say nothing, not ever again.”
Meanwhile, Loki’s monstrous children wreak havoc: as mentioned, Fenrir devours Odin, and Jörmungandr poisons Thor. It’s as if Loki’s legacy (through his offspring) is doing even more damage than Loki himself on that field. This might reflect an understanding that the consequences of treachery outlast the traitor; Loki’s influence persists through the havoc his “children” unleash. After the dust of Ragnarök settles, many gods have fallen, including Loki. Yet, significantly, the Norse tales cycle includes a rebirth: a new world arises from the sea, Baldr returns from Hel, and a new generation of gods (some survivors, some children of the fallen) inherit the renewed world. Notably absent from this new world is any mention of Loki or his spawn. They are gone, at least in the surviving lore. In a sense, the removal of Loki and his progeny is necessary for the world to be reborn in peace. The forces of chaos are purged (though one can argue they are cyclical and will eventually re-emerge, but the myth doesn’t explicitly state that). For Odin’s Warrior Tribe and heathens reflecting on Ragnarök, Loki’s role is a profound moral and spiritual warning. We interpret Ragnarök not just as a literal future event but as a metaphor for how unchecked betrayal and evil can destroy a community or a world. Loki’s betrayal of the gods – repaying their tolerance with murder and mayhem – ultimately causes the downfall of the very society he was part of. This can be seen as a cautionary tale: any group that harbors a Loki (a treacherous insider) and does not deal with him can be headed for catastrophe. The gods endured Loki for a long time, perhaps hoping he would remain manageable, but once he crossed certain lines (Baldr’s death, the insults at the feast), they had to act. There’s a lesson about when patience must end and justice must be done. One could even see in it a parallel to the concept of outlawry in ancient Norse law: an outlaw was someone cast out of society for extreme crimes, literally outside the protection of law (like Loki after he flees). If an outlaw wasn’t caught, he could become a rallying point for other malcontents (like Loki rallying the giants and the dead). Therefore, justice must be swift to prevent greater harm. In sum, Ragnarök is the final proof that Loki, despite any fleeting moments of utility, was never a friend to the Aesir, Vanir, mankind – indeed all the worlds. His fate is to be remembered as the arch-traitor. In the modern context, when we retell these tales, we keep that aspect front and center. Loki might get laughs when he’s tricking someone, or even a grudging nod when his plans ironically benefit the gods, but in the end, we remind ourselves of the bitter outcome of Loki’s path: ruin for him, and devastating loss for those around him. The ancestors, in telling these tales on long winter nights, could drive home communal values. Loki embodied the antithesis of what a tribe needs to survive: he was disloyal, dishonorable, and ultimately destructive to the community. The gods who embody positive qualities either die heroically opposing him (Thor, Heimdall, Tyr, etc.), or survive to rebuild because they stayed true to their values (e.g., Baldur’s return symbolizes innocence and goodness restored). Thus, the cycle of myth vindicates the way of honor over deceit.
Conclusion
Loki’s saga, from his early exploits in pranks and trickery through his ultimate downfall and violent end at Ragnarök, presents a rich tapestry of meanings for those who study Norse lore. From a scholarly perspective, Loki is an archetypal trickster figure, comparable to similar figures in other mythologies (such as Coyote in Native American stories or Hermes in some Greek tales, though Loki’s darkness is more pronounced). He defies conventional morality, creates chaos, and yet inadvertently contributes to the cosmic balance by forcing the gods to react, adapt, and grow. The Norse sources paint him neither as purely evil nor ever as good – he is complex, changeable, a catalyst of change and often the personification of the unforeseen. From the viewpoint of Norse Heathen spirituality and specifically the ethos of Odin’s Warrior Tribe, Loki’s tale is one to learn about rather than to emulate. We admire the craftsmanship of the tales that include him, we acknowledge the occasional wit and even the strange utility of his deeds (such as the treasures he helped procure), but we keep him at arm’s length spiritually. In our storytelling, Loki is a vibrant character – one can enjoy the drama of Lokasenna or the cleverness of his shape-shifts – but in our practice of honor, Loki stands as a warning. Just as one might study the tactics of a clever enemy to be prepared, we study Loki to be mindful of the dangers of unbound chaos. We have provided throughout this paper original Old Norse quotations from the Poetic Edda and Prose Edda, along with translations, to ground our exploration in the actual source material. The ancient verses show us that even over 700 years ago (when these Eddas were written down based on the much older oral accounts) Loki was depicted with much the same ambivalence and fear as we have described. He is called “illr í skaplyndi” – ill-natured. He boasts “við blóði blanda” of oaths then breaks them. He hurls vile names at goddesses and gods alike. He fathers the very beasts that will consume the world. Nowhere in those sources is there an altar or a prayer to him. In fact, after Loki’s binding, the Völuspá notably shifts to a hopeful tone once the “storm” of Loki is past, eventually speaking of a new golden age. In closing, Loki is a figure to be respected—intellectually—and remembered but not revered. An old heathen might have spat at the mention of Loki’s name in a temple, yet he might chuckle at a fireside tale of Loki’s antics. This dichotomy is key to understanding the Norse approach. For Odin’s Warrior Tribe, and any who follow the old ways with an eye to honor, the motto could well be: “Learn from all the gods, even Loki, but give your oaths and offerings to those who uphold the frith (peace) and welfare of your family and tribe.” Loki’s legacy is ultimately that of the cautionary example: the friend-turned-foe, the oath-breaker, the unbound flame that burns its own house down. In our reverence for Odin and the Aesir, we keep Loki in the lore as the shadow that defines the light – necessary to the story, but never the one we hail. As we raise our horns to the Allfather and the Thunderer, to Freyja and Tyr and the noble gods, we keep an eye on the shadows at the edge of the firelight, where Loki lurks in the stories – acknowledged, but kept firmly in check by the boundaries our honor sets. In this way, we honor the true spirit of our ancestors’ path: with wisdom to recognize chaos, and courage to stand against it, just as Heimdall stood against Loki at the end, neither yielding until the very end.
Footnotes:
Sources:
Snorri Sturluson. Prose Edda (Gylfaginning, chapter 34). Trans. Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur, 1916. – Describes Loki’s appearance and character (fair of face, evil in disposition, cunning in tricks).
Lokasenna (Poetic Edda), verses 9-10. – Loki reminds Odin of their blood brotherhood, insisting on his place at the feast.
Snorri Sturluson. Skáldskaparmál (Prose Edda). – The story of Loki cutting Sif’s hair and obtaining replacement treasure from the dwarves.
Snorri Sturluson. Skáldskaparmál. – Loki’s wager with the dwarf craftsmen and the making of Mjölnir; also, Loki’s role in Iðunn’s abduction and rescue.
Snorri Sturluson. Skáldskaparmál. – The tale of the giant builder of Asgard’s wall; Loki as the mare distracting Svaðilfari; birth of Sleipnir.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 50). – Loki’s escape as a salmon and capture by Thor, preceding his binding.
Lokasenna (Poetic Edda), verses 23-24. – Loki’s insult to Odin about practicing seiðr (witchcraft) on Samsey, and other related accusations.
Lokasenna (Poetic Edda), verses 40-41, 65. – Loki’s insult to Freyja (accusing her of sleeping with all present), and Thor ultimately threatening Loki.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 51). – Ragnarok account: Loki steering Naglfar, the ship of the dead, and heading into battle; mention of Heimdall vs Loki.
Völuspá (Poetic Edda), stanza 40. – The giantess in Ironwood gives birth to Fenrir’s brood; a reference to the wolf that devours the sun, indirectly tied to Loki’s progeny.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 34). – The crafting of Gleipnir and the binding of Fenrir; ingredients of Gleipnir.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 34). – Odin casting Jörmungandr into the sea; the serpent encircles Midgard.
Völuspá (Poetic Edda), stanza 55-56. – Thor’s battle with the Midgard Serpent and mutual destruction (Thor dies of venom after killing Jörmungandr).
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 34). – Odin appoints Hel to rule over the dead in Niflheim; describes Hel’s appearance and realm.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 50). – Loki’s punishment: Váli turned into a wolf, Narfi killed, Loki bound with his son’s entrails, snake venom dripped on him, Sigyn’s role.
Ellis Davidson, H.R. – Gods and Myths of Northern Europe & Simek, R. – Dictionary of Northern Faith. – Commentary on the lack of Loki worship in historical records; Loki’s role as a mythological figure rather than a god of cult.
Snorri Sturluson. Skáldskaparmál (Prose Edda). – List of heiti/kennings for Loki (e.g., “Slanderer of the Gods”, “Wolf’s Sire” etc.), illustrating how skalds referred to him in poetry.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 49). – The death of Baldr, and Loki’s role in guiding Höðr’s hand with the mistletoe; the immediate aftermath.
Snorri Sturluson. Gylfaginning (Prose Edda, ch. 49). – The failed attempt to resurrect Baldr; the giantess Thökk (Loki in disguise) refuses to weep. Baldr and Hod remain in Hel until after Ragnarok.
Footnotes
Scholars have found no evidence of an actual cult or worship of Loki in the archaeological or literary record of pre-Christian Norse society. His name does not appear in placenames or inscriptions as a recipient of worship, unlike deities such as Odin or Thor. This supports the view that Loki was a figure of storytelling rather than reverence. Modern heathen practice in groups like Odin’s Warrior Tribe continues this approach: Loki is discussed in lore but not called upon in worship or ritual.
In skaldic poetry and kennings, Loki is often referred to by epithets highlighting his trickster nature. For example, he is called “rógbyggvir (slanderer inciter) of the Æsir” and “bölva smiðr” (smith of mischief). See Snorri Sturluson’s Skáldskaparmál for various kennings for Loki.
Snorri Sturluson, Prose Edda (Gylfaginning, ch. 49) describes how Baldr’s death came about through Loki’s trickery. Loki guided the blind god Höðr to throw a dart made of mistletoe at Baldr, the only thing that could harm him. The source emphasizes the tragic betrayal in a setting where all other weapons had failed to hurt Baldr due to oaths extracted by his mother Frigg.
The story of Loki shapeshifting into the giantess Thökk who refused to weep for Baldr is told in Gylfaginning (ch. 49). All living things wept, except this one giantess – revealing it was Loki in disguise, ensuring Baldr remained in Hel. Loki’s other famous transformations (mare, salmon, fly, etc.) are scattered across the Eddas: Sleipnir’s birth in Gylfaginning ch. 42, the salmon in Gylfaginning ch. 50, the fly in Skáldskaparmál (during the forging of Mjolnir).
Lokasenna (Poetic Edda), verses 65-66 (Bellows translation) depict Thor’s arrival and his threats to Loki. Thor uses the term “arg őrlögs” in some translations, roughly calling Loki a wretch or villain. The result is Loki’s departure, marking the end of the flyting.
The duel between Heimdallr and Loki at Ragnarok is mentioned in Snorri’s Gylfaginning (ch. 51) and the Poetic Edda poem Völuspá hin skamma, which survives partially in Hyndluljóð. Both are said to “slay each other” in the final battle, paralleling other mutual destructions (like Freyr and Surtr).
The ingredients of Gleipnir, the magical binding for Fenrir, are listed in Gylfaginning (ch. 34). Snorri enumerates them, explaining why those things no longer exist in the world (an etiological explanation for, e.g., why cats make no noise when they walk). The crafting of Gleipnir was done by dwarves, illustrating how even the gods needed subtle magic to tame Loki’s spawn.
Völuspá, stanza 40 (in the Codex Regius version), describes a giantess in Ironwood birthing wolves, and one particular “moon-snatcher in troll’s shape”. This is interpreted as Fenrir or his offspring who will swallow the sun or moon. It connects Loki’s lineage (Fenrir) to the cosmic destruction (the devouring of sun and moon prior to Ragnarok).
Völuspá, stanza 56 (or in some editions, the lines about Thor and Jörmungandr during Ragnarok) states that Thor will fight the Midgard Serpent and be victorious but will only walk nine steps before falling dead from the serpent’s venom. This conveys the inevitability of fate: even the mighty Thor meets his end, and Loki’s child ensures it.
Snorri Sturluson, Skáldskaparmál (ch. 8) details the tale of the building of Asgard’s wall and Loki’s mare trick. After telling of Loki’s reunion with the stallion and the subsequent birth, Snorri says Loki bore a gray foal with eight legs, Sleipnir, who is the best of horses. Odin riding Sleipnir is subsequently mentioned in many tales, a testament to Loki’s unintended “gift.”
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