A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

Thus Loki, taking upon himself the form of a woman, went to Fensalir,
the palace, all silver and gold, where dwelt Freya, the mother of Baldur.
The goddess sat, in happy majesty, spinning the clouds, and when Loki,
apparently a gentle old woman, passed by where she sat, and then
paused and asked, as if amazed, what were the shouts of merriment that
she heard, the smiling goddess replied:
"All things on earth have sworn to me never to injure Baldur, and all
the gods use their weapons against him in vain. Baldur is safe for
evermore."
"All things?" queried Loki.
And Freya answered, "All things but the mistletoe. No harm can come
to him from a thing so weak that it only lives by the lives of others."
Then the vicious heart of Loki grew joyous. Quickly he went to where
the mistletoe grew, cut a slender green branch, shaped it into a point,
and sought the blind god Hodur.
Hodur stood aside, while the other gods merrily pursued their sport.
"Why dost thou not take aim at Baldur with a weapon that fails and so
join in the laughter?" asked Loki.
And Hodur sadly made answer:
"Well dost thou know that darkness is my lot, nor have I ought to cast
at my brother."
Then Loki placed in his hand the shaft of mistletoe and guided his aim,
and well and surely Hodur cast the dart. He waited, then, for the merry
laughter that followed ever on the onslaught of those against him whom
none could do harm. But a great and terrible cry smote his ears.
"Baldur the Beautiful is dead! is dead!"
On the ground lay Baldur, a white flower cut down by the scythe of the
mower. And all through the realm of the gods, and all through the land