It was more than in judgement, that Baldur was loved. Even the most strong and fierce held him with high regard. From the first, his life was without blame, his one goal to bring happiness to those around him. Wherever he walked the sun shone brightly, and joy filled the air. So it was with great surprise, that Baldur came to Odin, All-Father, with sadness in his heart.

     “Are you troubled, son?” Odin asked, “What weight lies on your heart to burden you so?”

    “ Father,” Baldur answered, “a dream is with me these nights. A whisper of what is to be. It is written, very soon, hastens the day of my death. Then this world, I must depart that I love so much. Soon shall I dwell within the underworld; apart from my brethren, forevermore. This drowns my heart and soul so that no joyous sights or sounds might release me from this cell within.”

      “I see,” Odin replied, scratching his beard. “We shall consult the wise in this matter. I swear; we will do all in our power to make certain this deed, come not to pass. Let it trouble you no more, for what fiend could not love you, and so, wish you ill?”

  Turning to his wife, Odin said, “Frigga, I charge you; take a solemn oath from all things. From plants, from sky, the minerals and even, the rocks of Earth. Make sure that all give word that none will so much as harm a hair on Baldur’s head.”

   Thus assured, Baldur left. Nonetheless, in his heart, Odin found that he was troubled. So by darkness of night, he saddled his mighty steed, Sleipner, and together, they stole off, making way to the bowels of the Earth.

    The journey was long and perilous. Yet, as all roads come to pass, so did this, and so Odin arrived at last upon the eastern expanse of Mirmir’s realm. There he found a dense forest. It was a place he did not recognize, even though he was familiar to the region. Venturing deep, he came to a mighty wall, greater than any surrounding the hallowed halls of Asgard. This filled the heart of Odin with wonder. However, Slepiner leapt over the wall in a single bound.

   Looking about, Odin walked amidst a beautiful garden, from which a castle arose in fantastic splendor. Oddly, the doors stood wide open. It appeared as if a distinguished guest was expected. Dismounting, the All-Father entered.

    “Are you the good and wise King, Mirmir has promised?” A graceful youth asked reverently. “We stand ready, and await command.”

     “I am King,” Odin answered. An excited echo rumbled through the assembly. “Alas, I tell you, I am not the King you await. My realm is Asgard. By what name is this king thee await?”

     The youth cast his eyes upon the All-father, tears welling deep inside. “That I cannot tell thee. Mirmir has said, only that one from far away will be King. That pure in heart and noble shall he be, so that with great joy, shall we serve him. Our obedience flowing, as a wise man loves a child. To rise from below, as harmony, and flow from the love and reverence within our hearts.”

  Odin sighed, thinking of his beloved son. “Truly, this is a King worth the wait. I deeply wish this King might find you, that you might thrive within his love.” Nothing more to be said, Odin bade them farewell, and continued his journey.

   Not long thereafter, Odin came to the grave of the Vala, and chanted a magic song, so that she might rise, and answer this mystery upon his heart.

    “What man is this?” she wailed in deathlike voice. “Who summons me to rise once more. Long have I slept in icy embrace, why awake me? What council do you seek?”

     “I am Vetgam,” Odin lied, “son of Valtam. Tell me what secret hides the realm of death. For whom are these benches strewn over with rings? Why are these couches overlaid with Gold?”

  “They are for Baldur,” the Vala answered. “By compulsion have I spoke. My tongue now falls silent.

   Not satisfied, Odin continued, “You must reveal more, wise Vala. By which hand shall Baldur be slain; who will take from Odin, his beloved child?”

   “Hodur the blind.” The Vala chanted in ghostly reply. “As winter consumes summer’s feast, so the blind does his brother slay.”

     “I understand thee naught.” Lamented Odin, prostrate with grief. “Why would my children feud thus amongst themselves? More, you must reveal, I beseech thee, tell me more wise Vala.”

   “I will tell thee naught” Vala wailed, a cold shadow falling across the grave. “You have betrayed yourself, Odin, All-Father. I will tell thee no more. Homeward ride, and exult, what will be, shall come to pass. Nevermore shall man thus visit me, silent I remain, till Ragnarok, the twilight of the God’s, has come.” Silence echoed, as the Vala sank into the earth once more. Little comforted by her words; Odin made his way back to the halls of Asgard.

  Unknown to Odin, there was one who despised Baldur. Even more for his goodness, though, in truth, he hated all God’s. That was the false and vindictive Loki. There was only one thing that brought joy to the heart of the trickster, and that was to bestow misfortune on others. As such, always did he plot to bring about the destruction of Asgard. No better way could he devise, than to destroy his brother, Baldur. For this, would bring grief to all.

 One day while hunting, a stray arrow missed its mark, and struck Baldur. It should have slain him, yet it simply bounced off, causing no harm whatsoever. The God’s who witnessed this were amazed. They bade Baldur stand still, and began to throw sticks, stones, daggers, axes, and even chairs at him. And not so much as a hair upon his head was harmed. Delighted at how happy this made his fellows, Baldur loved to stand as target for the others, and soon it became a favorite pastime in Asgard.

    Watching this, Loki was amazed. How do you slay the unslayable? This was a challenge beyond compare, a task worthy of the trickster, a dream, and a vision to pursue. There must be a way.

     At last arriving at a plan, he disguised himself as an old woman, and went knocking upon the door of Frigga. As it opened, Loki begged, “Could you spare alms, for a woman, feeble and old?”

   “Of course,” Frigga replied, taking some coins from her purse.

    “You are kind, to help an old woman in need, is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I am curious,” Frigga said, “ How do the other gods busy themselves. Did you see them as you passed the plains of Ida?”

  “I did, and they were engaged in the strangest game. It appeared they were throwing stones and axes at Baldur, who stood unharmed.”

     “ ’Tis true,” Frigga smiled. “They cannot harm him. I have extracted an oath from all things, that they will not harm my beloved son.”

   “Can it be true, have all things taken this oath?”

    Frigga thought a moment. “Yes, all things, except,” she murmured, “for the mistletoe that grows on the eastern side of Valhalla. No matter, It is to weak to harm anything.”

   “That is so good to hear,” Loki said slyly. “It would be dreadful indeed, if any harm came to Baldur. I am glad to hear he is safe, despite his unpleasant dreams.” Bowing gracefully, Loki crept off into the night. Frigga took no notice, so consumed she was, in thought of her son.

    That very night, Loki made his way to the eastern side of Valhalla. There he found the slender mistletoe, and took it with him. His fondest hope to find a way it might be turned into a fatal weapon.

     A short time later, Loki journeyed through the hills of the land. Soon he fell into a deep hunger, and spying an ox, he thought of supper. Capturing the beast, Loki set its meat upon a fire. After a time, it seemed cooked, and so taking a morsel, Loki tasted it. To his dismay, the meat was still raw, not having cooked at all.

    “What devilment is this?” Loki whined. Angry as he stoked the fire to a roaring blaze. A short time later, he tasted the meat again, still it was raw. Loki cried in anguish, finding himself at wits end. “There must be foul forces at play, that bewitch the night. My fire is plagued by the sorcery of giants, it would seem.”

   From above, Loki heard laughter mocking him. Looking to the trees, he spied a giant eagle, glaring at him, with mischievous eye.

  “Loki,” the eagle sneered, “my clever little friend, are you outwitted by a slab of beef? Mayhap, you lack the skill to cook your dinner?”

    “Silence, or I will show you the wrath of the God’s.” Loki swore.

    “Save your threats,” the eagle laughed, “for those you can reach. Till then, give to me my share, and you will shortly find your meat is cooked.”

    Enraged, Loki realized he was helpless. “Very well,” he snorted,“ Take your fair, foul fiend, if it will help. Then off with you, and be gone your taunting gibes. I tell you, this meat is bewitched.”

   Swooping down, the eagle took hold of the roast. In rage, Loki took a stick, and struck at the bird. Alas’ though, his club stuck to the eagles back. Taking to flight, the bird carried Loki, screaming and crying through the sky. Lowering, it crashed Loki headfirst through the trees and rocks. At last, growing tired of this game, the eagle landed atop Loki on crested hill.

    “Have mercy,” Loki pleaded, half dead from pain and fright.

      “You are quite the fool,” the eagle laughed. “Recognize you not your friends of old.”

     “Thiassi,” Loki stammered.

       “It is,” the eagle laughed. “I did not think you so easily deceived. Worry no more, for I seek not to harm you, it is the other God’s I despise. I swear; they shall feel the wrath of my vengeance. Dearly shall they pay for their brash insults, those, who would mock my art, and praise that of the dwarves, as if they were worthier. It was a contest, not fairly judged, for their deceit, will they feel the sting of my sword.”

     “They did treat you, unjustly,” Loki agreed, remembering the contest held in the halls of Asgard. “They deserve to feel the pain they caused you, the sting of humiliation, you were made to suffer. Indeed they were prejudiced against your skill, that which was wrought by the labor of their mortal foe, a giant. How could they not? I will help you extract vengeance.”

   “Of old, do I know thee,” Thiassi answered. “I know you live for mischief, to friend and foe alike. Help me, I have a game I would play. There is a woman amongst them, Iduna, a cousin of mine.”

   “The keeper of the golden apples,” Loki gasped.

    “Indeed,” Thiassi continued. “I mean to take her home to the land of her brethren giants. In the same stroke, I will bring the sands of time to the very halls of Asgard. When she leaves, and her apples are no more, the Gods will age anew, no longer sharing their blessing, their gift of eternal youth.”

   “An excellent trick indeed,” Loki agreed. “I will help you in this, if you help me with mine, and in so doing, you will do more hurt to Asgard, than even the loss of Iduna.”

    “Tell me, what you would of me.” Thiassi said. “I will do anything to grant me vengeance.”

   Loki smiled, treachery filling his heart. “No better way to strike the Gods, than destroy that which they do love most. Slay Baldur; that is the key, they revere him as a higher kind of being, even Odin, All-Father. All do, excepting me, I, who despise him, with all my heart. Long have I sought to be the instrument of his undoing.”

  “Slay Baldur,” Thiassi sputtered. “Have not all things sworn to do him no harm. We might sooner drink the oceans depths, or halt the freezing snows of winters wrath.”

   “So it would seem,” Loki agreed. “Alas’ though, for Baldur, I hold his bane. Not all things did swear to preserve his life. Frigga carelessly saw no need to extract an oath from this mistletoe I hold before you. With this, might our vengeance come to pass.”

    “I ask you,” Loki paused. “My friend Thiassi, make for me, a deadly arrow from this plant. You alone have the skill, show the God’s they misjudged you, show them, your skill, greater than those bumbling Dwarves Those who stole from you, your dignity, so many years before. Show all your skill, and in so doing, vengeance shall be yours, a double edged sword, will that not make victory twice so sweet?”

   “This, I will do,” Thiassi agreed, “If you deliver to me my cousin, Iduna, from beyond the mighty walls of Asgard.”

    “Then the pact is made,” Loki smiled treacherously, handing the mistletoe to Thiassi.

 The betrayal planned, the two parted ways. Both, setting to work, to make ready the soil, so that the evil seeds planted might take to root, and the harvest readied, to bear the misshapen fruits of their labor.

     Upon returning to the halls of Asgard, Loki made way to the garden of Iduna. As always, the garden was filled with an assorted array of guests. It was a delightful haven of beauty that served to sooth the inner passions of the soul. It was for other reasons, however, for what drew the God’s. They came to receive the blessings of youth endowed within the golden apples of Iduna.

      This fruit was the finest anywhere, golden in color, with just a hint of red, and the fullness of flavor. None denied anything could be more delicious. This was not the greatest quality of the fruit, for there was a quality within, still more spectacular. Whoever was to taste their delicious nectar, if old, would grow young. If tired they would waken anew. It was for this; the apples were prized beyond all the other treasures of the Gods.

    Loki sat contented in the garden, and watched the other gods come, hither and throe. On he waited, till at last, the garden was empty of all, save Iduna, and he.

   “Might one of your apples I see? I wish to inspect it most carefully.” Taking one to hand, he held it to his eye, and examined it. “I wonder,” he mumbled, as though a judge beyond reproach. At last he took a bite. “I would have never thought it,” he said at last. “Those other apples are more fair.”

   Iduna was dismayed to hear this; so much so, she almost dropped her precious basket.

    Loki continued, “The gold is brighter, the red more brilliant, the flavor is as beyond yours, as they are to other apples. I would never have believed it, had not I seen them with my own eyes.”

  The trickster spoke, so full of confidence, filled with such moral righteousness, that Iduna was deceived. Loki was so much wiser than she was. After all, was not he, a child of Odin, the brother of mighty Thor, and beautiful Baldur? His words, so confident, and backed by the credibility of his station. How could they be the whisper of treachery, of simple vanity and spite? They must ring the knell of truth.

  “What do you mean,” Iduna stammered. “There cannot be apples more fair than mine, all the Gods agree. Even Odin, the all-knowing.”

   “So they say,” Loki agreed, “Can this they prove? Apples more fair have I seen, and tasted. They grow, just beyond the walls of Asgard, near the river. I found them by chance, whilst looking for something lost.”

   “This cannot be!” Iduna cried, with tears welling in her eyes. “I cannot bear the thought of these apples you speak. Do they,” she stammered; “do they bestow youth, as do mine?”

   “I know not,” Loki replied. “All I can say, I was exhausted when first I happened upon them, and from the first taste, I felt as fresh as a lark. So perhaps, even in vigor , do they surpass yours.” Seeing the distress in Iduna, the trickster lured her to his trap. “You need not be alarmed.” Loki said. “I know what pride you take in your apples, and I would not take that from you. That is why I went straight to you, fair Iduna, always so generous, so fair with your treasures. I could think of none more deserving to be the keeper of this grove. You alone should bear the fruits, as so oft in you have in the past.”

   “You are to kind,” Iduna proclaimed, gentle tears of joy in her eyes. “Will you take me to them. How delighted the others will be, I can hardly wait. to bring these apples to them, so fair of which you speak.”

     “Let me think,” Loki spoke thoughtfully. “I must leave for Midgard this night. Perhaps there is a way. I do not have the time to escort you home, however, I could take you to the grove, there should be time for that.”

   “Let us make haste.” Iduna agreed, tossing a light green shawl across her shoulders. “I wonder if I should bring my basket with me?”

      “I would,” Loki assured her. “That way you won’t be worried.”

      With that, the two departed. Iduna was not sure whether to be frightened or pleased at the prospect of the journey. It was rare she left home, and not for many years had she passed the walls of Agard.

   “What will Bragi, think if he returns home and find me not,” Iduna fretted. “I hope I return before darkness falls” With this in mind, she found herself almost ready to turn back. Looking at Loki, at how confident he was, and the exuberance of his spirits, Iduna felt her spirit calm. Soon, after listening to his stories, and constant jests, she felt her fears fade away.

       After a time, they arrived at the walls of the city. “The decision is yours,” Loki said. “Do you wish to wait for the apples, or to follow me to the grove? It makes no difference.”

     “I am fearful to wait here, by myself,” Iduna admitted. “I think I will go with you, and I should so like to see this grove. There should be no harm, not if it is so near as you say.”

     Loki helped Iduna over the wall. Together they went to the other side, where a boat lie in wait. Stepping inside, the two set upon the rushing river. The boat handled the currents with great ease, for it was no common boat, rather it was a fine vessel created by the great skill of Thiassi, just for this occasion.

     After crossing the river, they stepped upon the distant shore, Where Loki pointed to a grove of trees. “The apples will be found there.” Walking to the trees, the sun was soon obscured by thick undergrowth, and lofty branches.

    Iduna, who was not used to travel, soon grew tired, and asked, “Is it much further?”

    “No,” Loki replied. “Only a little ways. If you are weary, why not wait here? There is a nice mossy seat in this opening Rest a few moments, and I will fetch you a drink of water from the stream behind that giant rock.”

      Agreeing, Iduna sat down, and clutched her precious basket of apples to her breast. Resting her head against a tree she looked up and saw the sky through a break in the trees. Peaceful and content, she soon fell into a restful sleep.

    Suddenly, she was awakened by a distant sound. Looking up, she noticed the blue sky replaced by what appeared to be a distant thundercloud. “Loki,” she cried, “Loki, come back!”

      There was no answer, as the cloud descended upon her. She gazed in terror and wonder, as a few feathers fell into her lap. It was Thiassi in eagle form that descended upon her. Iduna screamed in terror. Alas, her cries fell on deaf ears. The eagle descended dropping, a small arrow to the ground. Then she was borne to Jotunheim, the home of the giants.

   When at last, the two were just a distant speck in the sky, Loki came from behind the rock where he had hidden. With a malicious smile of triumph in eye, he took the mistletoe arrow, and set it within his pocket.

    It was not long, Iduna was missed within the halls of Asgard. That very night, Bragi searched the garden for his wife. Not a trace of her could he find. In panic, he sent word of her loss. Asking if any had seen her. There was no reply.

   “If there is mischief,” Bragi proclaimed, “Then Loki is at its heart. Let us find him, and see what deeds he has done.” So the Gods came to his home of to find Loki sitting by the fire. Surprised, he opened his eyes wide at the news of Iduna’s loss.

  “How strange,” he answered. “I was the last to leave the garden, and all was well. I did see a large eagle. It was very distant though, and so, I thought it no concern.” Loki shined with the innocence of a child as he spoke, and so no further did they suspect his foul play.

    That night, and the following day, the search continued. Alas, not a trace was to be found. At her loss did all the land mourn. The warmth of summer waned, the bitter winds of winter wailed across the land. Soon decay was on the distant valleys, hills, and fields. Yellow leaves fell from trees, falling barren and brown. An icy breath touched the ponds and streams, coating them with a shell of ice. The birds departed, flying south in retreat. The sun grew sickly and pale, as night grew long and dark.

   If nature mourned the passing of Iduna, the Gods felt the bitter sting fiercer still. As long as she gave them the precious apples, no age could touch them. Now gone, the sorrows and pains of time, pierced the hearts of those who loved her most.

   Odin, the wise, grew old, his beard turning white. A look of sadness fell across his kingly face. Stately Frigga, divine mother, became wrinkled and gray. Even Thor, mighty God of thunder, betrayed his feeble years, though his spirit remained unbroken.

    As matters grew desperate, the Gods called a council, to discuss what might be done. From the distant corners of the worlds, they gathered. Frey; from Alfheim; land of elves, Vida, from deep within the mountains. Even Niord made way, from his wind blown palace by the sea. All assembled, all that is, save one, the trickster, Loki.

    They waited silently, till Odin rose. “My children, Iduna is gone. The world grows cold. The Gods are falling old. As winter winds howl, the shadow of death falls upon us. Who shall bring Iduna back?”

    One amongst them rose. “What I have seen,” said he “might unravel the mystery. While looking down from my walls, I saw a strange whirring of feathers, as if it were in rapid flight. I saw then a mighty eagle, carrying something within its talon. I could tell not what. I watched its course, till it was only a mere speck in the sky. Then, I saw another strange sight. A boat crossed the treacherous river, as though a gentle stream. It was dark, yet I saw Loki leap from the boat, hiding it amidst the brush. Quickly, he climbed the wall. Now that I see the trickster is amongst us not, I fear he is the author of this foul deed.”

    “Then let him pay dearly!” Thor cried out.

     Together theyrose, and rushed to find Loki. When they found him, he was oddly calm, they confronted him with the charge. Finding it useless to deny Loki confessed, and told how Thiassi captured him. Not till Thor raised his mighty hammer, did Loki betray his fear. “Mercy,” he pleaded, “grant me mercy, and Iduna I shall retrieve.”

  “This shall we do,” Odin replied. “We will give you time to mend thy wrong. If at the passing of the next moon, you have failed to bring Iduna back, then you will know our rage. You will be put to death, by a thousand pains.”

   Asking a moments silence, Loki thought of how to best his rival. It would not be easy, Thiassi was a sorcerer, powerful in craft. At last, burying his face, he came upon a plan.

   “I will need a disguise,” he said. If Freya might lend me her falcon plumage, I could match Thiassi with his eagle feathers.” The trickster laughed gleefully, at the thought of outwitting the great artist. “I know some runes that I could transform Iduna into an acorn, then easily could I carry her back. Let me go, I long to match wits with the great giant once more.”

     Though they distrusted Loki, knowing rescue was not his chief desire, they granted his request. Shortly thereafter, a falcon was seen to fly across the ocean, to the distant and desolate Mountains of Jotunheim. 

    Soon Loki came to the grim stone fortress by the sea, between the worlds of Asgard and Midgard. Like a jagged mountain it rose amidst the gray rocks of the coast. Stunted trees and brush clung like decaying debris, withered lives, amidst the crevices of rocks and scanty patches of course grass. Overhead, a dull twilight reigned upon the leaden sky.

  Making his approach, Loki swooped in large circles across the distant shore and sea. Looking about, he saw Thiassi fishing, which was most fortunate, for had he been at home, it would have been a most difficult task indeed. Circling the castle, there was a rude opening, which appeared to be a window. From within, a gleam of sunlight beckoned into the dismal sky. Within, Iduna lie upon a rough couch, her basket of apples clutched firmly to her breast. Her long yellow hair gleamed with radience, casting a glimmer of sunshine to the world. In sleep, she tossed about, mourning the loss of her precious Asgard. Flying to her, and taking proper shape, Loki gently awakened her.

    Staring at him, Iduna remembered the betrayal. Fear and anger flashed across her brow. “False Loki,” she cried. “Why now come to me. Is your betrayal not enough, that now you must torment me, a prisoner in exile from Asgard?”

    “There is little time,” Loki proclaimed. “I alone can save you. I beg of you; do what I ask.” Seeing the distrust in her eyes, he continued. " If I do not bring you home, I will be put to death by the most dreadful tortures. The Gods grow old, and Asgard desolate. They need you now more than ever.”

   Hearing this, Iduna fears were quieted. Seeing no other means of escape, she decided to trust the trickster. Clutching her basket close, she trembled as she shrank smaller and smaller, turning at last to an acorn. Putting on the falcon plumage, Loki clutched her in his talons, and flew swiftly south.

   The race began. Loki flew more swiftly than a hawk seeking its prey. Yet, slowly in the distance, a small black speck was seen to follow. Thiassi had discovered the treachery, and was now in pursuit. They flew for hours, until the glittering towers of Asgard could be seen, against the Southern sky.

     In the city of the Gods, the spectators paced to and fro, in earnest expectation. Loki, they knew to be wily and skillful. Alas’ though, Thiassi was fierce and powerful. The outcome was still in doubt.

     Watching the race, Odin told them his plan. “I bade Loki fly low upon his approach. The mists of the river Aesir will not hurt him. Thiassi, though, now enemy of Asgard, that is a different tale indeed.”

     Every eye fixed upon the advancing birds. The river Aesir showed signs of weakness, they wondered if its magic would work. It looked so much older than when Iduna had left. Even more, they saw the strain on Loki. As one, they wondered if the trickster could hold out.

  Near the walls, Loki soared, swift in flight. With a sudden shift, he swooped low, grazing the mists of the dark river. Following, close behind, enraged, furious in pursuit, Thiassi forgot the dangerous mist below.

     Crossing the river, Loki flew over the wall, exhausted, he fell to the ground. From behind the shrieks of Thiassi echoed throughout the lands. Consumed in flames, his scorched wings carried him over the wall, where he fell dead at their feet.

    The Gods gazed upon Iduna, as she lifted her basket of golden apples. The sun rose, filling the sky with joy. Morning raised its gentle fingers across the worlds, as youth and summer returned to the land anew.

    In celebration, the Gods gathered in sport upon the plains of Ida. Amongst the games they played, was the ritual shooting of Baldur. When at last, all had shot; save for Hodur, Loki approached, in the guise of a young maiden

    “Perhaps,” he said to the blind God, “This arrow will do?” Innocently, he gave the arrow of mistletoe to him.

    Hodur, thinking no ill, took the arrow and strung it to bow. Releasing, it flew at Baldur, who stood there peacefully, while the others enjoyed their sport. As it struck his heart, he fell to the ground, dead.

    The Gods were astounded. No one dare breath. Thor leapt to where Baldur lie, and lifted him in his arms. All eyes fell on Hodur, none suspecting Loki of the foul deed. There was no vengeance, for the laws of Ida forbade such violence. 

   In tears they took the body to Odin. As he saw them, he cried, “My son, my son is dead. The light is gone from Asgard.”

    Reverently, the Gods circled the body of Baldur. As word spread throughout the lands, they chanted solemn hyms, low in tone. At the end of each refrain they echoed, “Baldur the beautiful is dead.”

    Men revered Odin for his wisdom, Thor for his might, Baldur they loved. So they wept his passing. His body lay upon his mighty boat, followed by a mighty procession. Dwarf, elf, giant, God, and youth, all sang hymns of peace.

    Thor raised his mighty hammer, and consecrated the pyre. Lightning flashed, and thunder trumpeted through the sky. The white sails spread as the ship burned in flames, sailing towards the setting sun.