The Project Gutenberg eBook, Stories from Northern Myths, by Emilie Kip Baker

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STORIES
FROM
NORTHERN MYTHS

BY
EMILIE KIP BAKER
AUTHOR OF
“STORIES OF OLD GREECE AND ROME”

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1914
All rights reserved

Copyright, 1914,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
——
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

STORIES FROM NORTHERN MYTHS

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO

TO
SARAH M. HOMANS

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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Stories from Northern Myths

How All Things Began

LONG, long ago, before the earth was made,—and there was no sea and sky or night and day,—the vast, unending Land of Mist stretched away on one side of a bottomless gulf,[1] on the other side of which lay the Land of Fire. The Land of Mist was called Niflheim, and here eternal winter reigned with fog and snow and darkness that wrapped the dreary land about like a shroud. From the heart of Niflheim there flowed a dark, tumultuous river, and as it rushed down into the chasm at its edge, the waters met the cold blasts that swept up from below, and great mountains of ice were formed on the side of the gulf over which the chill fogs gathered and the bitter winds blew.

[1] It is called in the Eddas “Ginungagap.” [Back]

The never changing twilight which brooded over the gulf was sometimes illuminated by sparks that were blown over from the Land of Fire that lay just beyond. This place was called Muspelheim, and here the whole land glowed like a living furnace with flames that burned with the heat of a million suns. Sparks of fire flew up in great numbers into the clouds, and these, glowing like balls of fire, were thrown far and wide on the land. Some of the burning sparks floated northward toward the land of snows, and as they fell into the ice-filled gulf, they changed to clouds of steam which were soon congealed into hoar-frost. Then one day this great mass of frost, on which fresh sparks of fire still fell, was suddenly warmed into life, and out of ice and snow and fire and heat the great giant Ymir was made.

Now although Ymir was fashioned out of these strange elements and so never felt the cold, he was soon very hungry in his home of ice and snow, and there was no food to be found anywhere. For a long time the giant wandered over the frost-bound land, and then one day he came upon the gigantic cow Audhumbla, who stood among the ice-hills calmly chewing her cud. From her udders flowed four streams of milk, and this was more than enough to satisfy the giant’s hunger. He never strayed far from the wonderful cow, and one day, as he watched her licking salt from the blocks of ice, he was surprised to see a head suddenly appear through the melting ice. Audhumbla kept on licking with her strong, rough tongue, and soon the whole body of a man emerged. As this strange being stood before the eyes of the astonished Ymir, the giant was filled with fear and hatred, for he knew that from the mighty Iceman[2] would spring a new race that would soon make war upon the giants and destroy them.

[2] His name was Bure, and his son was Bor, the father of Odin, Vile and Ve. [Back]

This is, indeed, just what did happen later on, for from the children of the Iceman came the gods Odin, Vile and Ve, who began at once to make war upon Ymir and all his kindred. In the terrible battle that took place between the gods and giants, Ymir was killed; and from his body poured forth such a great river of blood that all of the giants were drowned in it except two. These were Bergelemer and his wife, who escaped on a chest that floated away to the edge of the world. From them sprang a new race of frost-giants who continued to make trouble for the gods just as their forefathers had done.

Then Odin[3] took the body of Ymir, and with the help of his brothers he fashioned from it the earth and the sea and the sky. From the great masses of flesh they formed the earth, and all around it they planted Ymir’s eyebrows to make a high fence as a protection against the frost-giants. His immense bones they shaped into hills, and out of his teeth they made the cliffs, while his thick hair they used for trees and bushes and grass. His blood supplied the boundless ocean, and his skull formed the arching sky in which the gods placed some of the sparks that floated out of Muspelheim. These they caught and set in the heavens and called them stars. The sky was held in place by four strong dwarfs who stood east and west and south and north with the great weight resting on their shoulders. All this work seemed good in the eyes of the gods, and they knew that everything as it left their hands would prosper if only the frost-giants would stay in Jötunheim—their dreary, fog-wrapped country that lay beyond the ocean which now encircled the earth.

[3] Sometimes spelled Woden, from which comes Wodensday (Wednesday). [Back]

To the giantess Night, and her son, Day, the gods gave chariots and swift horses, so that they might drive through the sky every twenty-four hours. Night had a dark chariot drawn by the black horse Hrimfaxe (Frosty-mane), who rushed so swiftly through the heavens that drops fell from his sweating flanks and bit, and these became dew or hoar-frost as they lighted on the earth. Day drove a white horse which was called Skinfaxe (Shining-mane); and when the chariot of his dusky mother sank out of sight behind the hills, he harnessed his shining steed and followed in the same path she had chosen.

Beside the chariots which belonged to Night and Day, the gods set two others in the heavens to light the newly made earth. From the flames that leaped forever out of the Land of Fire they made the sun and moon, and placed each one in a golden chariot so that they might be driven through the sky. The horses which drew the sun and moon were beautiful white creatures with shining golden manes. In order that the restive steeds of the sun should not be scorched by its fierce heat, the gods placed a great shield in front of the chariot to protect the animals’ flowing manes. The moon horses did not need anything to stand between them and its mild rays.

Then Odin chose Mani and Sol—the son and daughter of a giantess—to drive the chariots of the sun and moon; and the story goes that many, many years later, when there were people on the earth, Mani looked out of his golden chariot one night and saw two little children—a boy and a girl—carrying between them a heavy pail of water. These children were the servants of a cruel giant who made them work all night instead of sleeping; and Mani, feeling very sorry for them, and being rather lonely all by himself, put out a long arm and caught up the children from the earth. Then he set them beside him in the moon; and they have remained there with Mani ever since.

The frost-giants, who loved dreariness and gloom, were very angry when they saw how bright the world was with the light of the sun and moon; so they sent two fierce gray wolves to follow close upon the track of the bright chariots. Sometimes they came so near that their great black shadows dimmed the brightness of the sun, and sometimes they hung so close to the wheels of the moon-car that its light never reached the earth. The wolves never succeeded, however, in eating up the chariots, though their grim shapes often lingered threateningly in the sky.

When the gods had formed the earth—which they called Midgard—they chose the most beautiful spot they could find for their home. In the very centre of the earth rose a lofty mountain, and on the top of it was a broad, lovely meadow where the gods built their shining city of Asgard. In the midst of the city was a spacious hall, made of gold and the purest marble, and here were the thrones where the gods sat when in council.[4] Beyond the hall were the palaces of the gods[5A] and goddesses,[5B] also made of marble and silver or gold, and near by was a huge smithy where the gods forged the weapons needed to defend their city from their enemies the frost-giants.

[4] This hall was called Gladsheim, and the palace of the goddesses was called Vingolf. [Back]

[5A], [5B] They are also called the Asas, Æsir, Anses or Anse-race. [Back to 5A], [Back to 5B]

From Asgard to Midgard the gods stretched a rainbow bridge which they called Bifrost; and over this they passed and repassed on their frequent journeys to the earth. There was no human being on the earth at this time, and the gods felt sorry that no eyes but their own could look upon the fruitful, blossoming land. No one ploughed the fields or built houses, or sailed in ships across the seas. No voices of children rang over the meadows; no sound of the reaper’s scythe broke the stillness of the fields; and no ringing of metal on the smith’s firm anvil was heard throughout the silent earth.

Then the gods took some of the earth-mould and made of it a host of tiny creatures which they called Dwarfs or Gnomes[6]; but when Odin saw how ugly they were, with their misshapen bodies and great heads, he condemned them to live underground and never to come up into the light of day. So the dwarfs spent their time delving into the heart of the earth for gold and silver and precious stones; and they became the cleverest workmen at their tiny forges, making wonderful things of every kind of metal. They were cunning, too, and kept their secrets well, so that neither gods nor men knew the hiding-place of their treasures.

[6] Sometimes also called Trolls. [Back]

Besides the dwarfs, the gods made the Fairies,—or Elves,—but these were so airily and daintily fashioned that they seemed to belong to the sky instead of the earth. So the gods built the fairy folk a home between Midgard and Asgard—a beautiful place called Elfland, all made of rainbow colours and moonbeams, and gossamer silks and delicate spiders’ webs. The gods also gave these little people gauzy wings so that they could fly down to earth and play with the butterflies, and make caps of harebells, and dance in the moonlight round a fairy ring. They were never wicked and spiteful like the Gnomes, though they sometimes liked to play good-natured tricks on stupid people; and fortunate indeed was the child or man who won a fairy for his friend.

One day Odin and Hœnir and Loki were walking about on the earth; and as they drew near to the seashore they saw two stately trees, an ash and an elm, standing side by side. Then Odin took the trees, and out of them he made two living beings that resembled the gods themselves in form and feature. Hœnir touched their foreheads, that they might have sight and wisdom, and Loki gave them warm blood, with the power to speak and hear and feel. Thus man and woman were created; and the gods called the man Ask, and the woman Embla, from the names of the trees from which they were made.

Odin’s Search for Wisdom

AT the end of the rainbow bridge stood the wonderful tree Ygdrasil, which bound all the worlds together in the grasp of its mighty hands. Some of the roots were firmly fixed in Midgard, and even extended underground to the home of the swarthy elves. Some roots branched out into Jötunheim, where the frost-giants ever strove to tear them out; and one root struck down into the very depths of the earth, to that dark region of the dead where ruled the terrible goddess Hel. The Tree of Life also grew upwards to a marvellous height, and its branches spread out so widely that many birds and beasts came to it for shelter. The topmost boughs reached up to Asgard, where they overshadowed Odin’s hall.

At the foot of the tree Ygdrasil sat the three Norns—or Fates[7]—who weave the thread of each man’s life. Every day the Norns sprinkled the tree with water from the sacred Urdar fountain; so the tree always flourished, and its leaves kept fresh and green in spite of the dragon[8] which forever gnawed at its roots, hoping to destroy it. The heavy foliage that crowned its upper boughs never lacked for moisture, but grew more beautiful each year, although Heidrun, the goat of Odin, browsed on its leaves, and though it furnished food to four great stags who grazed beside it. From the horns of these stags dew continually fell in such abundance that it supplied water for all the rivers of the earth.

[7] Their names were Urd, Verdande and Skuld. [Back]

[8] The dragon’s name was Nidhogg. [Back]

The very topmost branch of the Tree of Life was called the Peace Bough, and on it sat a great eagle who kept watch over all that happened in the worlds below. Up and down the trunk of the mighty Ygdrasil scampered the squirrel Ratatosk, a mischievous little fellow who delighted to make trouble between the eagle and the dragon at the foot of the tree by repeating malicious speeches which he said each had made of the other. In this way he hoped to stir up such strife that he would some day see a terrible battle fought between them. Ratatosk was daring enough to explore all the land that was overshadowed by the boughs of Ygdrasil, but he never ventured near the gates of Asgard, nor did he risk going into the deep grove that sheltered Mimer’s well—that wonderful well whose waters flowed down into the roots of the Tree of Life.

The Peace Bough hung over the hall of the gods just above the golden throne where Odin sat ruling the affairs of gods and men. On Odin’s head was a shining helmet shaped like an eagle, and over his shoulders was thrown a mantle of deep blue with such a wonderfully jewelled hem that it looked as if the cloak were edged with stars. In his hand he held a spear which was deemed so sacred that if any one swore an oath upon its point, he would never dare to break it. At Odin’s feet crouched two great wolves[9] which he fed daily with his own hand; and on his shoulders perched his two ravens Hugin and Munin (Thought and Memory) who flew each morning over the earth and brought back to Odin the news of all that was going on in the earth below. Sometimes they told him of the brave deeds of heroes; sometimes they spoke of the swarthy elves, or of the frost-giants plotting vengeance in their home beyond the frozen seas; and sometimes they warned him that the Midgard serpent, who lay with his immense body encircling the earth, was lashing the sea into foam with his tail and rolling up the waves until they threatened to cover the earth.

[9] Their names were Geri and Freki. [Back]

Since the ruling of the world was in Odin’s hands, he was anxious to gain wisdom enough for this great task; and though the gods far excelled the earth-folk in knowledge, there were some of the frost-giants who were wiser than Odin, for they knew of things that happened long before the coming of the gods. On this account the dwellers in Asgard were ever fearful lest their enemies should destroy their shining city; and Odin longed for the knowledge that would make him greater than any one in all the worlds.

There was only one way to get such wisdom as Odin wanted, and that was to drink deep of the water that flowed into Mimer’s well. No one save the hoary old giant himself had ever tasted the water of the Well of Wisdom; but Odin knew that without it he could never learn of things past and present and to come. So he laid aside his spear and helmet; and mounting his eight-legged horse Sleipnir, rode over the rainbow bridge to the deep grove of trees in the heart of which old Mimer sat guarding his sacred well.

Leaving Sleipnir some distance behind, Odin advanced alone; and soon came in sight of the giant seated like a stone image beside the Well of Wisdom. Mimer was so very, very old that he looked as if he had sat there ever since the beginning of time; and as Odin stood in the dimly lighted grove, he seemed to be the only living thing in all that vast stillness. The giant’s hair was white, and his beard had grown so long that it reached almost to the ground as he leaned forward with his head resting on his hand. In the other hand he held an ivory horn; but though many had passed by the sacred well, no god or mortal had ever been given a drink from Mimer’s horn.

Odin advanced slowly to the giant’s side; and the old man, who had sat for ages and ages looking down into the clear depths of the water, now raised his eyes and fixed them, not unkindly, on the waiting god. Great and wise as Odin was, being ruler of gods and men, he felt a strange awe in the presence of this hoary old Mimer, who lived long before the creation of the worlds and was living before the gods and the frost-giants engaged in their terrible warfare. As Odin approached the sacred well, Mimer was fully aware of who his visitor was, for he knew all things that ever had been, or are, or were yet to be. His eyes, so keen and piercing, looked kindly upon the god from beneath his shaggy brows; and his voice sounded soft to Odin’s ears as he said slowly:—

“What does the All-Father seek so far from sunny Asgard?”

“I have come to beg a draught from your well, O Mimer,” answered Odin.

The old giant’s face grew grave. “Whoever asks for that,” he said, “must be willing to give much in return. Many desire to drink of the waters of wisdom, but few will pay the price. What will you give in return for a draught from Mimer’s well?”

Only a moment did Odin hesitate; then he said boldly, “I will give anything you ask.” At these words Mimer handed him the ivory horn, saying: “Drink, then; and the wisdom of the ages shall be yours. But before you go hence, leave with me as a pledge one of your eyes.” So Odin drank deep of the well of wisdom; and thereafter no one in all the worlds was able to compare with the Father of the Gods in wisdom. None of the dwellers in Asgard ever questioned Odin concerning his visit to Mimer’s well; but they honoured him more deeply for the great sacrifice he had made; and whenever Odin visited the earth to mingle in the affairs of men, people knew him as the god who had but a single eye.

There was one other person besides old Mimer who was reputed to have greater wisdom than the gods, and this was the frost-giant Vafthrudner. Now Odin was very anxious to measure his knowledge with that of his old enemy, for if the frost-giants were no longer wiser than the wisest of the gods, there was less need to fear them. To put his wisdom to the test, Odin set out on the long, dreary journey to Jötunheim; and soon he found Vafthrudner sitting at the door of his snow-house. When the giant saw a visitor approaching, he stopped shaking the icicles from his frozen beard, and stared hard at the intruder. Odin had disguised himself as a traveller, so Vafthrudner did not know him and thought he was another foolish adventurer who had come to learn wisdom at the cost of his life. For the penalty which the loser must pay in his strife with the giant’s wisdom was death.

So Vafthrudner laughed until the mountains shook when Odin declared that this was the object of his journey to Jötunheim; for it amused the giant vastly to think that a mere man had come to contend with him in wisdom. He bade the stranger sit down, and Odin obeyed, pulling his slouched hat well over his eye, so that the giant might not guess who his visitor was. “Tell me,” said Vafthrudner, “the name of the river that divides Asgard from Jötunheim.”

“The river Ifing, where the waters are never frozen,” replied Odin, quickly. The frost-giant looked surprised, but he only said:—

“You have answered rightly, O Wise One. And now tell me the names of the horses that draw the chariots of Night and Day.”

“Skinfaxe and Hrimfaxe,” promptly replied Odin. Vafthrudner turned and looked hard at this remarkable stranger who could speak so readily of things that no man was thought to know. Then he asked many more questions, to which Odin gave unhesitatingly the right answers; and soon the frost-giant began to feel afraid of the strange traveller who seemed to know more than the gods themselves. Anxiously he put the last question, saying, “Tell me, O Great One, the name of the plain on which the Last Battle will be fought.” Now Vafthrudner knew that no mortal man could possibly answer this question, so he waited fearfully for Odin’s reply.

“On the plain of Vigrid, which is a hundred miles on each side,” came the answer; and at this the frost-giant began to quake with fear, for his boasted wisdom had been fairly met, and at last some one had come to Jötunheim to defeat him.

Now it was Odin’s turn to ask questions; and he drew from this wisest of the giants a knowledge of things that happened long before the gods came to dwell in Asgard. He learned all the secrets that the giants guarded so carefully; and he made Vafthrudner tell him of the dim unknown future, and of the events that would shape the lives of gods and men. So eager was Odin to gain the desired wisdom that he forgot how long he had been sitting at the frost-giant’s side and listening while Vafthrudner told him of the time when no gods were living, and of the time when no gods should be.

The long day waned, and the curious stars peeped out, and Mani—as he drove his horses over the western hills—wondered why Odin lingered so long in dreary Jötunheim. When the All-Father had learned all he desired to know, he rose up and said: “One last question I will put, O Vafthrudner; and by its answer we may judge which is the wiser of us two. What did Odin whisper in the ear of Balder as that shining one lay on the funeral pyre?” When the frost-giant heard this question he knew at last who it was that had been contending with him, and he answered humbly: “Who but thyself, O Odin, can tell the words which thou didst say to thy son? Thou art truly the wisest of all.”

So Odin departed on the long journey back to Asgard, and the gods rejoiced at his return, for hitherto no one had ever been known to strive with Vafthrudner and live.

The Story of the Magic Mead

THERE once lived on the earth a man named Kvasir; and he was much beloved by the gods because they had given him the wonderful gift of poetry. Kvasir was a great traveller, and wherever he went men begged him to tell them, in his singing words, of the life of the gods and of the brave deeds of heroes. So the poet went from cottage to castle sharing his gift with rich and poor alike. Sometimes he told the familiar tales that had grown old on men’s lips; and sometimes he sang of heroes in far-off forgotten lands.

Every one loved Kvasir—every one except the spiteful little dwarfs who grew jealous of him, and longed to do him some evil. So one day when the poet was walking on the seashore, two of the dwarfs named Fialar and Galar came up to him and begged him to visit their cave in the rocks. Now Kvasir never suspected wrong of any one, so he willingly followed the dwarfs into a dark cavern underground. Here the treacherous brothers slew him, and drained his blood into three jars in which they had already placed some honey. Thus of sweetness mingled with a poet’s life-blood they brewed the Magic Mead, which would give to any one who drank of it gentleness and wisdom and the gift of poesy.

When the dwarfs had mixed the mead, they took great care to hide it in a secret cave; and then, proud of their cruel cunning, they set off in search of further adventures. Soon they found the giant Gilling asleep on the seashore; and after pinching him awake, they asked him to row them a little way in his boat. The giant, who was both good-natured and stupid, took the dwarfs into his boat, and began to row vigorously. Then Galar suddenly steered the boat so that it struck on a sharp rock and was overturned. The poor giant, who could not swim, was immediately drowned; while the wicked little dwarfs climbed upon the keel of the boat and finally drifted ashore.

Not content with this cruel act, they went straightway to the giant’s house and called to his wife to come quickly, for Gilling was drowning. The giantess at once hurried to her husband’s aid; and as she came through the doorway, Fialar, who had climbed up above the lintel, suddenly dropped a millstone on her head, killing her instantly.

As the dwarfs were jumping up and down exulting over their success, the giant’s son—whose name was Suttung—came along. When he saw his mother stretched dead upon the ground, and the little men skipping about in their wicked glee, he guessed who was guilty of this shameful deed. So he seized Galar and Fialar, one in each hand; and, wading far out into the sea, he set them on a certain rock which was sure to be covered with water when the tide rose. As he turned to go away, the dwarfs screamed to him in terror and begged him to take them back to land. In their fright they promised to give him anything he might ask if only he would put them safe on shore.

Now Suttung had heard of the Magic Mead, and he longed very much to possess it; so he made the dwarfs promise to give him the three jars in exchange for their lives. Much as Galar and Fialar hated to do this, they had no choice but to agree to the giant’s demand; so as soon as they were on land again, they delivered the precious mead into his hands. As Suttung could not be at home all day to guard his treasure, he hid the jars in a deep recess in the rocks, and bade his daughter Gunlod watch over them night and day. The mouth of the cavern was sealed up with an enormous stone so that no one could enter except by a passageway known only to Gunlod, and Suttung felt that his treasure was safe from both gods and men.

Odin disguised as a Traveller

Meanwhile the news of Kvasir’s death had been brought to Odin by his ravens Hugin and Munin, and he determined to get possession of the wonderful mead that had been brewed from the poet’s blood. So he disguised himself as a traveller, pulled his gray hat well over his face and set out for the country where the Magic Mead was hidden. As he neared the giant’s home, he saw a field in which nine sturdy thralls[10] were mowing hay. These men did not belong to Suttung, but were the servants of his brother Baugi. This suited Odin’s purpose just as well, so he went quickly up to the thralls and said: “Your scythes seem very dull. How much faster you could work if they were sharper. Shall I whet them for you?” The men were surprised at this unexpected offer of help; but they accepted the stranger’s assistance gladly. When they found how sharp he had made their scythes, they begged him to sell or give them the marvellous whetstone. To this Odin replied, “Whoever can catch it, may have it as a gift,” and with these words he threw the stone among them. Then began a fierce battle among the thralls for the possession of the prize; and they cut at each other so fiercely with their scythes that by evening every one of them lay dead in the field.

[10] Thralls; servants. [Back]

While they were fighting thus savagely, Odin sought out Baugi’s house and begged for supper and a night’s lodging. The giant received him hospitably; and as they sat eating, word was brought to Baugi that his nine thralls were dead. For a time Odin listened to his host’s complaints of his evil luck and of how much wealth he would lose through his unmowed fields. Then he offered his services to Baugi, promising to do as much work as the nine thralls. The giant was very doubtful whether his visitor could make good this boast; but he accepted the offer quickly, and next morning Odin set to work in the fields.

Before many days had passed, all the hay on Baugi’s land was carefully stored away in the barns, and Odin came to the giant to demand his wages. “What payment shall I make you?” asked Baugi, fearing that a great sum would be named as the price of such remarkable service. He was surprised, therefore, when Odin answered, “All I ask is a draught of the Magic Mead which your brother Suttung keeps hidden in a cavern.”

“That is not an easy thing to get,” replied the giant, “for though I would be glad to fetch you some of the mead, my brother has never let me enter the cave. However, I will ask him to bring you a single draught.” So Baugi went in search of his brother, and told him of the wonderful service that Odin had rendered. Then he asked for one drink of the Magic Mead for his servant. At this Suttung flew into a great rage and cried:—

“Do you think I would give any of the mead to a stranger who can do the work of nine thralls? No man could have such wonderful power. It is a god that you have been calling your servant, and the gods have been our enemies since the beginning of time.”

Now Baugi feared and hated the gods as much as his brother; but he had given his word to Odin to help him get the Magic Mead, and he did not dare to break his promise. So when he returned to his one-time servant, and told of the ill success of his visit to Suttung, Odin answered: “Then we must try some other way. Take me to the cavern where the mead is hidden; but see that your brother knows nothing of our going.”

Very unwillingly Baugi consented to show Odin the secret cave; and as they walked, he plotted how to get rid of his troublesome servant. It seemed to take the giant a very long time to find the cavern; but when they finally reached it, Odin drew an augur from his pocket, and began to bore a hole in the great stone that stood at the cave’s mouth. As soon as he grew tired, he made Baugi take his turn at the augur; and, owing to the giant’s great strength, a hole was soon bored through the rock. Then Odin quickly turned himself into a snake and crept into the opening while Baugi, seeing his servant no longer beside him, and realizing what the sudden transformation meant, made a stab at the snake with the augur, hoping to kill it. But Odin had slid safely through the hole, and was already inside the cave.

Taking his rightful form, Odin now began to look eagerly about him, and when his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness of the cavern, he saw the daughter of Suttung seated in the furthest corner beside the three jars that contained the Magic Mead. He came softly to Gunlod’s side, and spoke to her so gently that she was not frightened at the sudden appearance of a stranger; and when he smiled at her with a reassuring look, she asked, “Who are you, and why are you here?”

“I am a traveller, tired and thirsty after my long journey,” answered Odin. “Will you not give me something to drink?”

Gunlod shook her head. “I have nothing here save the Magic Mead, and that I dare not give you,” she said sadly. Then Odin begged for just a single draught, but the giant’s daughter firmly refused to let him touch the jars.

At last, after much coaxing and soft words, Gunlod allowed her visitor to take one sip of the mead; but as soon as Odin got the jars in his hands, he drained each one dry before the astonished maiden had realized what had happened. Then he changed himself quickly into a snake, and glided out through the opening in the rock. It was now but a moment’s work to assume an eagle’s form, and start at once on his journey back to Asgard. He knew well that there was no time to lose, for Baugi had already gone to his brother with the news of what had happened at the cave’s mouth.

When Suttung heard Baugi’s story and realized that his precious mead was being stolen by one of the gods, he hurried at once to the cavern. Just as he reached it, he saw an eagle rise heavily up from the earth, and he knew this was some god in disguise bearing away the Magic Mead to Asgard. So he quickly changed himself into an eagle, and started in pursuit of the one with slowly moving wings. Odin could not fly very fast, for the mead made him heavy; and he was much distressed to see that the giant was easily gaining on him. As they both neared the gates of Asgard, some of the gods were looking out, and they saw the two birds approaching. They wondered what the pursuit might mean; but it was not until the eagles neared the outer walls that the watchers realized that it was Odin fleeing from an enemy, and straining his weary wings to reach Asgard.

Then they laid a great pile of wood on the inner walls, and to this they applied a torch the moment that the first eagle had passed safely over. The flames shot up with a roar just as the pursuer had almost caught his prey. The fire scorched Baugi’s great wings, and the smoke blinded his eyes so that he fluttered helplessly down to the earth. Meanwhile the Magic Mead was safe in Asgard, and there it was put in care of Bragi, the white-haired son of Odin. Thus the mead remained forever with the gods; but sometimes a favoured mortal is given, at his birth, a drop of this divine drink; and then, in later years, men find that a poet has been born among them.

Gods and Men

I

NEAR Odin’s council hall was a fair white building called the Hall of Mists,[11] and here sat Frigga,[12] the wife of Odin, spinning the many-coloured clouds. She spent long hours beside her golden wheel; and when she spun by day, the clouds were white and soft and fleecy; but toward evening Frigga put a touch of colour into her work, and then the heavens glowed with yellow and violet and red. It was through Odin’s careful wife that snow fell plentifully in winter, for then Frigga shook her feather beds, and made them ready for the touch of the spring sunshine. At her command the rain fell all through the year, so that the streets of Asgard might always be kept spotless. It was Frigga, too, who made the wonderful gift of flax to men; and she taught the women how to spin and weave.

[11] Also named Fensalir. [Back]

[12] Frigga is also called Fricka. [Back]

Frigga was very fond of children; and one day, as she looked down upon the earth, she saw two little boys playing together on the seashore. They were Geirrod and Agnar, sons of a wealthy king[13]; and Frigga grew to love them very dearly. She was so anxious to talk to them and know them, that she persuaded Odin to go with her down to the earth; and, having disguised themselves as an old fisherman and his wife, they took possession of a deserted hut. This hut was on an island many miles from the country where Geirrod and Agnar lived; but Odin promised Frigga that in spite of this, the children would come to her.

[13] King Hraudung. [Back]

One day Geirrod and his brother went out rowing in their boat, and a storm came up which blew the tiny craft far out to sea. The boys became terribly frightened; and the wind tossed them about on the angry waves until they would surely have perished if Odin had not been watching over them. He kept their frail boat from sinking, and guided it to the very shore on which he and Frigga were living in the little hut. The boys were glad indeed when their feet once more touched the solid earth; for they were tired and hungry and cold, and a good deal frightened, too. They knew that they must be far from their own country; but they were so glad to be out of reach of the waves that it mattered little to them what land it was to which the wind had brought them.

When they began to look about them, they found that the island was very bleak and bare, with no flowers nor fruits nor berries to be seen anywhere. Nothing seemed to be growing there but low, thorny bushes that scratched them and tore their clothes as they attempted to make their way further into the island. Soon it began to get dark, and the boys stumbled helplessly through the briers; but at last they saw the glimmer of a light, and groped their way toward it. Presently they came to a small hut, through whose open window the friendly light was streaming, and, without a moment’s hesitation, they knocked loudly at the door.

They were a bit surprised at the appearance of the two people within the hut; for although they were simply clad as peasants, there was something in their bearing that reminded Geirrod and Agnar of the lordly guests who had sat at their father’s table. But the boys were too hungry and tired to pay much attention to the kind folk who took them in, though they were grateful for the food and dry clothing and a warm place by the fire. Some days later, Geirrod inquired of his host how a fisherman could afford such wonderfully soft beds and food fit for kings to dine upon. Agnar asked no questions, but wondered why the flowers bloomed so plentifully around the cottage door, and why the birds sang all day.

It was too stormy for the boys to attempt to venture on the sea for many days; and even when the storm was over, the waves looked dark and menacing. Winter was coming on, and there was little chance that the sea would grow calm; so Geirrod and Agnar lingered day after day in the fisherman’s cottage, needing no persuasion to remain with their new-found friends. Geirrod spent all of his time with the fisherman,[14] learning the lore of the sea and becoming very adept in the use of the spear as well as the humbler net and line. He was also taught to hunt the game that was plentiful on the island, and he grew very proud of his skill with the bow. All day he stayed at the fisherman’s side, listening, learning and wondering at the great knowledge which his companion had of things that had happened before the world was made. He heard many tales of heroes, and learned of brave deeds that had been done by men of his own race. He knew that the fisherman told these stories so that he himself might see how fine a thing it was to be brave and strong and noble; and Geirrod, who was by nature selfish and cruel, felt so thrilled by the old man’s stirring words that he wished to be like the heroes whose lives were so loudly praised.

[14] The fisherman called himself Grimner. [Back]

Agnar usually stayed with the fisherman’s wife in the cottage; for he was gentler and more timid than his brother, and preferred to help his kind foster-mother instead of hunting with Geirrod or venturing out on the sea to spear the great fish. Agnar, too, heard many stories as he sat by the goodwife’s side while she spun her flax; but these were not hero-tales nor stories of adventure. She told him how the god Freyr makes the flowers bloom, and the fruits ripen; and how his sister Freya watches over the earth all through the springtime. She spoke of the love which these two had for all the beautiful things in nature, for music and poetry, and how they even watched with delight the dancing of the fairies in Elfheim. She told him how wonderful the city of Asgard looked when the sun shone on the broad, golden streets; and how the sounds reëchoed through the great hall called Valhalla where Odin feasted with the heroes chosen from the battle-field.

So the winter passed quickly, and when spring came the fisherman built a new, strong boat in which the boys were to make their voyage homeward. Then Geirrod and Agnar said good-by to the kind folk with whom they had passed so many happy days. Reluctantly they sailed away from the friendly island, and soon came in sight of their own country. A fair wind carried them gently all the way, for Odin had commanded Njord, the storm god, to keep his blusterous winds under control. As the boat neared the familiar shores, Geirrod forgot all the generous lessons that the fisherman had tried to teach him, and he began to look with hatred at his brother. As Agnar was the older of the two, he would inherit the kingdom; so Geirrod was filled with a sudden rage against the gentle boy who stood in the way of his becoming king.

As the boat drew toward the shore, Geirrod sprang out, and giving the boat a mighty shove toward the open sea he cried: “Go back to the island, you weak, timid girl. You are not fit to be king.” Then, being a sturdy swimmer, he made for the land. The boat drifted out again to sea, and carried Agnar to a strange land, where he lived many years. Finally he returned to his own country in disguise and became a servant in his father’s palace—but by this time Geirrod had already been made king. For when Geirrod swam ashore, he hastened at once to his father and told him the whole story of his adventure with the fisherman on the island. When the king asked for Agnar, Geirrod said that his brother had been drowned on the journey home by falling over the edge of the boat. As there was no reason to doubt this story, the king mourned for Agnar as one dead; and the younger brother was acknowledged heir to the throne. Not many years later, the king died and Geirrod was made ruler over the whole kingdom.

When Odin and Frigga, who had long since left the island and returned to Asgard, learned what had become of their favourites, Odin was very proud that Geirrod had become a great king. Frigga grieved, however, that the gentle Agnar had suffered through his brother’s treachery, and hated to see him serving as a menial in Geirrod’s hall. When Odin praised his former pupil, she would say: “He is a great king, but a cruel man. No stranger would dare to trust to his mercy.”

Now as unkindness to a stranger was a very despicable trait in those days, this taunt of Frigga’s roused Odin’s wrath; and he determined to show her that Geirrod was not the heartless king she declared him to be. So he disguised himself as an aged traveller, and presented himself at Geirrod’s palace asking for food and shelter. Frigga, however, was equally determined to prove Geirrod’s cruelty, and thus defend her favourite, Agnar. So she secretly sent a messenger to the king bidding him beware of a strange old man who would come to the palace claiming the rights of hospitality.

Odin was much surprised when he met with rough usage at the hands of Geirrod’s servants, not knowing that the king had commanded them to seize any aged traveller who might come to the palace. He was not welcomed to the well-filled table as he had expected, but was rudely dragged before the king. Now Geirrod, believing that this was the stranger of whom he had been warned to beware, commanded the old man to tell his name and the object of his visit. The traveller stood with bowed head, refusing to speak; and this made the king so angry that he threatened the old man with torture and death if he did not answer.

As the stranger continued to keep silent, Geirrod commanded his servants to chain him to a pillar in the great hall and build on each side of him a hot fire whose flames would torture without destroying him. So they dragged the unresisting old man to the pillar and bound him with chains too strong for even the stoutest warrior to break. Then they kindled fires on either side of him and stood off, laughing and mocking at the trembling figure that seemed to crouch in terror against the pillar.

For eight days and nights the fires were kept burning, and during all this time the cruel king allowed no meat or drink to be given to his prisoner. But one night, when the watchers were drowsy with ale and the heat of the fires, a servant stole softly into the hall with a great drinking-horn in his hand. This he carried to the old man, who appeared to be in great suffering, and he smiled happily when he saw the prisoner drain the cool drink to the last drop. This servant was Agnar, the king’s brother, whom every one believed to be dead.

The next morning, Geirrod assembled all his nobles in the great hall, and they began to make merry over the prisoner’s misery, asking him if he would now speak and tell them who he was and from whence he came. The old man shook his head, refusing to speak; but suddenly, to the astonishment of all, he began to sing. And as he sang, the listeners grew strangely silent, while a nameless fear seized the whole company as they saw no longer the crouching figure by the pillar, but a tall commanding form before whose awful majesty they shrank back trembling and afraid. As the singing continued, the power and sweetness of the music filled the echoing halls; and when the song was over, the chains fell suddenly from the prisoner’s arms and he stood—a terrible accusing power—before the eyes of the terrified people. Geirrod as well as his nobles knew now that a god had come among them; and the king, fearing for his life, tried madly to defend himself. He seized his sword and rushed blindly at the tall form confronting him, forgetting—in his terror—that no weapon could prevail against an immortal. Blinded by his fury, he fell forward upon his own sword, and in a moment lay dead at Odin’s feet.

Then the All-Father called to Agnar and bade him take his rightful place on the throne which his brother had usurped. The people gladly welcomed a kindlier ruler; and Odin, having righted the wrongs which Geirrod’s cruelty had created, now returned to Asgard to report to the anxious Frigga that her favourite was at last made king.

II

There was once a king named Gylfe who was reputed to be the wisest ruler of his time. He kept many learned men at his court; but he was eager to gain more knowledge than all these sages could command, and so sent far and wide for men skilled in magic and those whose eyes could read the secrets of the stars.

One day an old woman[15] came to Gylfe’s palace asking alms, and she was brought at once into the presence of the king. Gylfe treated her with great kindness, and while she sat at the king’s table eating of his own rich food, she turned to the monarch saying: “Never has the stranger met with such kindness as this. What can I give you in return?” The guests who were feasting began to laugh merrily, but the king answered, “There is nothing that I wish for except wisdom.” “Then, listen,” said the strange old woman, and she began to tell the king a story of the world as it was when it came fresh from the hands of the gods. Then she spoke of the frost-giants, the ancient enemies of the shining ones of Asgard; and as the king listened, he seemed to see how all things must have looked in that first morning of the world.

[15] Her name was Gefjun. [Back]

When the old woman finished speaking and turned to leave the palace, Gylfe begged her to accept some gift in return for her wonderful stories; and the stranger, who was really a giantess, replied: “I will take as much land as four oxen can plough in a day and a night.” Now the frost-giants had been envying the earth-folk many years, and they wished to add more land to their country beyond the frozen seas. So when Gylfe consented to the old woman’s strange request, she brought four immense oxen from Jötunheim, and harnessed them to a huge plough. Then the giantess cut such a deep furrow into the earth that a great tract of land was torn away; and this, being carried out to sea by the oxen, was borne westward to Jötunheim. Thus Gylfe lost a large part of his kingdom, but he felt that even that was not too great a price to pay for the knowledge which he had gained.

Having learned from the giantess how wise were all the dwellers in Asgard, Gylfe determined to seek the gods themselves; though he knew that in his eager desire for more wisdom he was likely to meet death at their hands for his presumption. So he set out on the journey to Asgard; but he would surely have never reached those sacred halls if Odin had not guided his footsteps and led him to the rainbow bridge that reached up from Midgard to the city of the gods. Here, at the end of Bifrost, he met Heimdall, the watchman who stood all day and night guarding the shining city from the approach of the giants. Whenever a stranger appeared at the rainbow bridge he sounded his horn[16] to warn the gods of possible danger. Heimdall never slept; and he not only saw as well by night as by day, but his eyes had the wonderful power of seeing a hundred miles all around. He also had such remarkable ears that he could hear the grass growing, and tell whether the wind was blowing on the sea.

[16] Heimdall’s horn was called the Gialar-horn. At Balder’s funeral, Heimdall rode to the sea on his horse Gulltopp. [Back]

Having received a command from Odin to let the stranger pass, Heimdall allowed the king to enter the sacred city; and Gylfe soon found himself in the presence of Odin. The Father of the Gods received him kindly; and, after learning the object of his journey, permitted Gylfe to seat himself in the great council-hall. Then Odin asked the king what it was he wished to know, and Gylfe began to question him freely and fearlessly. He asked about the creation of the world, about the seasons and the rainfalls, and the changes of the moon. He asked why the elves kept themselves forever hidden in the earth, and why the fairies danced only in the moonlight. He spoke, though timidly, of the dark underworld, and asked why the dead never came back to earth again. He even questioned Odin concerning the gods themselves; and to all these eager queries, the All-Father gave a willing answer.

Suddenly the hall grew full of mist and shadows, and Gylfe could hardly see the foot of Odin’s throne. A great noise like some deafening thunder shook the council-hall, and the king, bewildered and frightened, did not know where to turn for safety. Then all at once the darkness and the sounds vanished, and Gylfe found himself on a broad plain. At first he thought that he had seen the shield-hung hall and the shining streets of Asgard only in a dream; but soon the words of Odin came back to him, and he knew that he had indeed talked with the greatest of the gods.

So Gylfe became the wisest ruler on the earth; but though all men honoured him for his great wisdom, many refused to believe that he had really been within the gates of Asgard.

Sif’s Golden Hair and the Making of the Hammer

I

AMONG the gods there was one who was really unfit to be a god and to live in the shining city of Asgard. He was the cause of much trouble and mischief in his frequent journeys to the earth, and he brought evil upon even the gods themselves. But as Loki was the brother of Odin, he could not very well be banished from Asgard, so the gods endured his presence as best they could. Loki did many unkind things that the gods never heard of; but once he met with just punishment for his meanness. This was the time that he robbed Sif of her golden hair.

Loki

Sif was the wife of Thor[17] the god of thunder. She had beautiful long hair that fell over her shoulders like a shower of gold, and of this she was very proud. One day Sif fell asleep on the steps of Thor’s palace,[18] and while she lay there sleeping Loki came walking by. There was nothing so dear to Loki as a chance to do mischief, and he never saw anything beautiful without wishing to spoil it; so when he found Sif fast asleep, he stole up softly behind her and cut off all her golden hair.

[17] From Thor’s day comes our word Thursday. [Back]

[18] The palace was named Bilskirner. [Back]

When Sif woke at last and saw what had happened, she began to cry bitterly, for her golden hair was the pride and joy of Thor, and she was afraid that he would never want to look at her again now that it was gone. So she got up from the steps where she was sitting, and went away to hide in the garden. When Thor came home, he looked for her all through the palace, and went from room to room calling her name. Not finding her in the house, he went out into the garden, and after searching for a long time finally found poor Sif behind a stone, sobbing bitterly. When he heard her story, he tried to comfort her the best he could, but Sif continued weeping and covered her shorn head with her arms.

“I know who did this shameful thing,” cried Thor, wrathfully; “it was that mischief-maker Loki, but this time he shall pay dearly for his wickedness.” And he strode out of the palace with a look so threatening that even the gods might have trembled before him. Now Loki was not expecting to be caught so soon, and he had not thought of seeking a hiding place; so when Thor came suddenly upon him he was too frightened to try to escape. He even forgot his ready lies, and when Thor shook him angrily and threatened to kill him for his wicked act, he made no denial, only begged for mercy and promised to restore to Sif the hair he had cut off. Thor therefore released him, after binding him by a solemn oath to fulfil his promise.

The real hair which Loki had cut off he had already lost, so to keep his word to Thor he must find something else which would resemble it closely enough to make Sif believe she had indeed her own hair again. As there was only one place where skilful and cunning work like this could be done, Loki crossed the rainbow bridge that spans the gulf between Asgard and the earth, and hurried to the tall mountain which hides, amid its rocks, the entrance to the lower world. No one but a god, or one of the swarthy elves themselves, could have found this hidden opening, but Loki knew it well. He first looked for a tiny stream which flowed along at the foot of the mountain. This he followed to its source in a deep cave among the rocks, and when he came to the spot where it bubbled up from the ground, he raised a huge log that was lying, apparently by chance, close beside it. This disclosed a small passage leading down into the very centre of the earth, and along this path Loki hastened, often stumbling about in the darkness, until he came to the underworld where lived the swarthy elves. They were busily engaged in their wonderful workshop, which was lighted only by the fires from the forge, but when they saw Loki they laid down their tools and asked him how they could serve him.

“I have a task,” answered Loki, “which requires such great skill to perform that I hardly dare ask you to attempt it. It is nothing less than for you to make of your gold some locks of hair that will be as soft and fine and beautiful as the golden hair which adorns the head of Sif, the wife of Thor. You have heard, no doubt, of its beauty, so you know how difficult a task I have given you.”

The elves, nothing daunted, set at once to work, and selecting a bar of perfect gold, they pounded it very soft, then spun it into threads so fine that they looked like sunbeams, and so soft that they felt like silk. When the work was finished and placed in Loki’s hand, it exceeded in beauty anything he had ever seen, and he felt sure that Thor could not complain of his gift. Then he thanked the swarthy elves and hastened with his prize back to Asgard and to the palace of Thor, where all the gods had assembled to see the fulfilment of Loki’s promise.

In spite of the success of his undertaking, the fear of Thor’s hasty temper kept Loki somewhat humbled, for the Thunderer had been known to crush the object of his anger with his hammer when once his wrath was fully roused. His face was now dark and threatening as Loki approached, and beside him stood Sif, weeping bitterly, and trying to cover her head with her hands. But Loki came up boldly and placed the golden hair which the elves had made, upon her head. To the astonishment of all, it immediately grew fast, and no one could have told that it was not her own golden hair. So Sif was proud and happy once again, and Loki was forgiven.

II

When Loki went to the underground home of the elves to find the golden hair for Sif, he thought that it would be as well to get two other gifts—one for Odin and one for Freyr—so that their anger would fall less heavily on him for his cruelty to Thor’s beautiful wife. The dwarfs were always very glad to help Loki when he was in trouble, for they, too, delighted in mischief-making; so when he asked them for the two other gifts, they gladly set to work. The spun-gold hair they had already placed in Loki’s hands; and now they hurried about, getting together a hundred different materials to use in their work—for things of earth, air, fire and water went into the making of the wonderful gifts that came from the hands of the elves.

In a short time they handed to the waiting god a spear[19] that would always hit the mark no matter how badly it was thrown, and a marvellous boat[20] that would fold up into a tiny package, but could also expand large enough to hold all the gods and goddesses in Asgard. Loki was delighted with these gifts and hurried with them back to Odin’s council-hall where the gods had assembled to pass judgment on him for his cruel treatment of Sif.

[19] The spear was named Gunger. [Back]

[20] The boat was named Skidbladner. [Back]

Though the hair of spun gold proved to be so perfect that Loki had nothing to fear from Thor’s anger, he saw that Odin was still displeased and was looking at him with stern brows. So the wily god produced his two other gifts, and handed the spear to Odin and the boat to Freyr. Both the gods were delighted with the clever workmanship of the elves; and all the company were so busy examining Loki’s gifts that they did not notice the dwarf Brock, who had followed Loki to Asgard and was now standing in the shadow of Odin’s throne.

When the gods grew loud in their approval of the magic spear and boat, Brock could contain his anger no longer and cried out: “Can you find nothing better than those petty toys to praise? My brother Sindri can make far more wonderful things than these.” At this boastful interference Loki grew very angry and said: “Prove it, then; for I know that your brother is only a stupid workman. Let us make a wager that you cannot bring here three gifts better than those you scorn; and whichever of us loses in the contest shall pay for it with his head.” Brock accepted the challenge and set off at once to the cave where Sindri kept his dwarfs at work night and day.

He told his brother of the wager he had made with Loki, and Sindri laughed and promised that the god’s head should hang that night in the cave as a trophy. Then he made ready a huge fire, and as he worked busily over his tools he bade Brock keep the bellows going as hard as he could so that the flames would leap higher and higher. Then, when he thought the right moment had come, he threw into the fire a pigskin; and bidding Brock keep steadily at work on the bellows, he left the cave.

The dwarf blew hard at the fire, and the forge gleamed so brightly that the whole cave was lit up, and Brock could see the piles of gold and silver and glittering gems that lay all around. Then suddenly an enormous gadfly flew into the room; and, lighting on his hand, stung him so badly that he roared with pain. Still he did not take his hand from the bellows, for, with the cunning of his race, he knew that the gadfly was none other than Loki who had taken this form, hoping to spoil Sindri’s work.

When the master-smith returned, he looked eagerly at the forge and saw that the fire glowed as brightly as ever. So he muttered a few magic words over the flames and drew forth a golden boar. This he handed to his brother, saying that the boar had the power to fly through the air, and shed light from his golden bristles as he flew. Brock was so much pleased with this gift that he said nothing about his swollen hand; and when Sindri asked him to keep his place at the bellows, he willingly agreed.

The smith then threw a lump of gold into the flames; and bidding Brock keep the fire at white heat, he again left the cave. Brock began to work harder than ever at the bellows; and as the fire glowed so that it seemed like daylight in the room, the gadfly flew at him and stung him on the neck. He screamed with pain and tried to shake off his tormentor, but still he kept faithfully at his work and never lifted his hand a moment from the bellows. When Sindri returned, he found the fire glowing brightly, and, leaning over it, he pulled out of the flames a fine gold ring, which every ninth night would drop nine gold rings as wonderful as itself.

Brock was so delighted with this gift that he almost forgot about his wounded neck; and obediently kept his place at the bellows. Then Sindri threw a lump of iron into the fire, and bidding his brother work steadily at his task—for this was the most important gift of all—he went out of the cave. Brock grasped the bellows firmly, and began to work with all his might. Just as the flames were leaping fiercely and the room seemed lit by a million candles, the gadfly flew at Brock and stung him between the eyes.

The poor little dwarf was almost frantic from the pain of the wound and from the blood that poured into his eyes. But though dazed and blinded so that he could hardly see the fire, he kept doggedly at work on the bellows, only lifting one hand for a moment to wipe the blood from his eyes. The fire had been glowing like a furnace, but in that one instant the flames burned less brightly, and Sindri—who had just entered the room—began to berate his brother for his carelessness. Then the smith drew out of the fire a mighty hammer, perfect in every way except that the handle was too short, owing to Brock’s having lifted his hand a moment from the bellows.

Sindri gave the three gifts to his brother, and bade him hasten to Asgard, and bring back the head of Loki as payment for the lost wager. When the dwarf reached Odin’s council-hall, the gods had assembled to decide the contest, for every one was eager to see what gifts Sindri had sent. Brock handed the ring[21A] to Odin, who praised it highly and said, “Now, I shall never want for gold.” Freyr was delighted with his gift of the golden boar[21B] and said that it would be much more entertaining to ride on its back than in Loki’s magic boat. Lastly Brock gave the wonderful hammer Mjölner to Thor, saying, “Here is a hammer which can crush mountains, can cause lightning and thunder when it swings through the air, and will always come back to your hand no matter how far you may throw it.” Then the dwarf turned to Odin and said, “Decide now between Loki and me, O Wise One, and declare whose gifts are worth most to Asgard.”

[21A], [21B] The ring was called Draupner, and the boar Gullinbursti. [Back to 21A], [Back to 21B]

Though the gods were reluctant to condemn one of their number in favour of a dwarf, there was no disputing the fact that Thor’s hammer was worth more than all of Loki’s gifts, for it meant a sure protection to Asgard from the attacks of the frost-giants. So Odin declared that Brock had won the wager, and that Loki must pay the forfeit with his head. Now Loki had no intention of submitting to this decree, so he first offered the dwarf a huge sum of money as a ransom; but Brock angrily refused the gold, and insisted that the bargain should be kept. Then Loki cried out, “Well, you must catch me first,” and sped off on his magic shoes, which could carry him through the air and over the water with wonderful swiftness. As Brock knew he could never catch the fugitive, he grew black with rage, and turned upon Odin, crying, “Is this the way that the gods keep faith, or shall the word of Odin stand fast?” Now all the company knew well that a promise made by even the meanest among them must be held sacred; so Odin sent Thor after Loki. In his swift chariot, drawn by the snow-white goats, the Thunderer easily overtook the runaway and brought him back to Asgard. Then Loki saw that he must save his life by cunning, and he said to Brock, “You may take my head if you wish, but you must not touch my neck.”

Now as this was obviously impossible, the dwarf knew that he was outwitted by the crafty Loki, so he went away fuming with rage and disappointment. But before he left Asgard, he took out of his pocket an awl and a thong, and sewed Loki’s lips together so that, for a while at least, the tricky god could not do any more boasting.

The Binding of the Fenris Wolf

IN the very beginning of time, when the gods first made the world, there was joy and gladness not only in Asgard but over all the earth; sin and evil were unknown, and death had not yet come even among men. So the gods were very happy—all except Loki, who looked on with jealous eyes at the gladness which he could not share; for he knew no pleasure save in devising mischief. Not satisfied with grudging others their happiness, he sought some means to bring about trouble, but finding himself too powerless to accomplish anything alone, he married a fierce giantess[22] and had three terrible children—Hel, the Midgard serpent and the Fenris wolf.

[22] Her name was Angerbode. [Back]

These dreadful creatures soon grew very strong and fearful to look upon; and Loki was not content to keep them in the dark cave in Jötunheim with their gruesome mother, but allowed them to roam about the earth. Soon they wearied of the narrow limits of the earth and found no longer any pleasure in bringing terror and even death to many lands. So Loki took them up to Asgard and begged the gods to let him keep them there. For a while all went well, but soon the presence of Loki’s children became a menace to even the gods’ safety; and they grew fearful of Hel’s deadly eyes, and the serpent’s foaming mouth and Fenrer’s cruel jaws.

So one day Odin rose up from his throne, stern and wrathful, and cast Hel down into the centre of the earth, to rule over the dark region of the dead. Then he threw the Midgard serpent into the bottom of the sea, where he grew larger and larger, until his huge body encircled the whole earth. But before he could banish Fenrer, Loki came forward and begged that the wolf might be spared and allowed to remain, promising the gods that he would see that it did no harm. So Odin consented, though with doubt and mistrust.

After a while the wolf became very large and fierce, and nothing seemed to appease his savage hunger. Only Tyr, the sword-god, dared feed him, and he wandered about Asgard growing daily more hungry, and more cruel and terrible to see. At length Odin called the gods together in council and said to them:—

“Fenrer is getting to be more of a menace to our lives every day, and I no longer trust Loki’s promise to guard our safety. We must therefore find some way to control the wolf, for we cannot kill him and so stain our shining city with his blood.”

Then Thor proposed that they should bind Fenrer with a strong chain which he himself would make; and to this plan the gods gladly agreed. So all that night and for many days to come the sound of Thor’s hammer could be heard throughout Asgard as he forged the links of a massive chain that should bind the Fenris wolf.[23] When it was finished, the gods assembled before Odin, Thor carrying the heavy chain upon his shoulders, and Loki coming up cautiously with Fenrer, who stalked boldly beside him. No force could possibly be used with a creature so strong and fierce, so the gods sought to gain their end by flattery, praising the wolf’s size and strength, and daring him to match it against the strength of the chain which Thor had made.

[23] This chain was called Leding. [Back]

Now Fenrer knew far better than they how terribly strong he had become, and therefore he willingly lay down and let them fasten the chain around his great body, and then secure it to a rock. When this was done, the gods breathed more freely, for it seemed as if they had nothing to fear from the wolf any longer; but in a moment Fenrer rose, stretched his huge limbs and shook himself once. As he did so, the chain fell to pieces as easily as if it were made of glass. The gods looked on in wonder and dismay, and the wolf walked off with a low, threatening growl. Even Odin was silent with fear, for it had been revealed to him in the runes that in the final overthrow of Asgard, the Fenris wolf should bear a part.

Thor now came forward and begged permission to try again at making another chain much larger and stronger than the last. The forging of this second chain took many days and nights, for Thor tested every link to see that it was strong and sure.[24] At last it was finished, and brought on the shoulders of the strongest of the gods to the foot of Odin’s throne. Fenrer was again summoned, but when he saw the chain, he refused to be bound. No flattery or coaxing could move him, so the gods began to taunt him, laughing at his boasted strength and accusing him of cowardice. Apparently with great reluctance, the wolf again allowed himself to be bound; and when the chain was secured about his shaggy body and fastened tightly to the ground, the gods looked on, feeling fearful and yet full of joy, for surely nothing could be stronger than the massive chain which was wound round and round the prostrate wolf. But Fenrer rose slowly, stretched himself, and gave one bound into the air, while the gods drew back in dismay before the rattling shower of broken links.

[24] This chain was called Drome. [Back]

Then Odin saw that no brass or steel or any metal could withstand the terrible strength of the wolf, and he bade Thor give up all further attempts to forge a chain, while he had it proclaimed throughout Asgard that Fenrer was to roam wherever he would. Shortly after this he sent Loki on a journey far across the seas to a country so distant from Asgard that he would have to be gone many days. Though usually alert and suspicious, Loki set off on his errand, not dreaming that Odin had some purpose in sending him away. As soon as he was gone, Odin despatched Skirner, Freyr’s trusty servant, with all speed to the home of the swarthy elves, and bade him procure from them an enchanted chain, such as they alone knew how to make. Skirner set out at once and found his journey a safer and pleasanter one than he had expected, for though the home of the dwarfs was underground, the road was easy to find. Odin had instructed him to look at the base of a certain mountain for a tiny stream of opal-tinted water. Having come to the foot of the mountain, Skirner followed the stream to its rocky source, and the rest of the journey was quickly made.

When he delivered his message to the elves,[25] they set immediately to work, and for nine days and nights Skirner heard no sound in the workshop as the little men plied their task. No stroke of hammer or noise of anvil was necessary in the making of this wonderful chain, for into its weaving went the strangest things that Skirner had ever seen,—the down from a butterfly’s wing, a handful of moonbeams, the lace of a spider’s web, a humming bird’s lance, the breath of the night wind and many other queer and mysterious things. The work was all done in perfect silence, and Skirner sat by looking on in wonder as the magic chain grew into being under the elves’ skilful fingers. At last it was finished, and with the precious gift in his hands, Skirner hastened back to Asgard.[26]

[25] The home of the elves was in Svartalfheim. [Back]

[26] This magic chain was called Gleipnir. [Back]

Then Odin called the gods together and summoned Fenrer to come and try his strength a third time. When the wolf saw the chain which was to bind him, he became at once suspicious, especially when he found that Loki was absent. He had no doubt of his power to break brass and steel, but he scented a possible danger in the soft, fine thread which lay in Odin’s hand. As he had no one here to warn him if the gods meant mischief, he felt that it was safer to wait until Loki was present; so he drew away, growling and showing his teeth. At this Thor cried out,—

“How now, Fenrer, have you used up all your strength in breaking those heavy chains, and have not enough left to snap this slender thread?”

This taunt made the wolf growl more fiercely than ever, though he consented a third time to be bound, demanding first, however, that one of the gods should put his hand in the huge mouth, and leave it there as a pledge that no magic arts were being used against him. None of the gods wished to take such a risk, and they all drew back in dismay except Tyr, the sword-god, who stepped boldly forward and thrust his hand into the wolf’s mouth. Then Fenrer submitted to be bound, and allowed the gods to wind the slender thread all about him and fasten the end to a rock. The moment it was secured, the wolf tried as before to shake himself free, but the more he struggled and strained, the tighter grew the magic thread, until at last Fenrer lay bound and helpless and foaming madly with rage. Seeing that he had been tricked, he closed his teeth savagely upon Tyr’s fingers, and bit off his whole hand. But the sword-god felt repaid for the loss of his hand since the wolf at last was bound. Thus the gods left him securely chained to the rock; and there he lay until the final terrible day when it was decreed that he should break loose again, and help in bringing destruction upon all the dwellers of Asgard.

How Thor Went Fishing

ONE day the gods went to a feast given by Æger the sea-god; and they drank so much ale that before the meal was half over the vessel which old Æger had filled was drained dry. He was greatly distressed at finding there was not enough to drink, and he began at once to brew more of the foaming ale. As his kettle was rather small for so great a company, he asked Thor to find him a larger one that would better suit the needs of the gods. To this Thor, who was always ready for any sort of adventure, replied readily,—

“Tell me where to get the kettle, and I will fetch it, even if it is from the very heart of Jötunheim.”

Now Æger had no idea where to look for such an enormous kettle as he needed; but just then Tyr spoke up and said:—

“My father Hymer has a kettle that is one mile deep and half a mile wide. If Thor wishes to risk the giant’s anger, he can go with me to Hymer’s castle.”

So the two gods set off for their long journey in Thor’s swift goat-chariot; and though they travelled quickly over the frost-bound country that stretched far away to the north, it was a long time before they came to the land where Hymer and his kindred lived. Here they had to cross two half-frozen rivers over which the goats carried them safely, and then they came to the foot of a great ice-covered mountain that looked as smooth as glass. Tyr advised that they go the rest of the way on foot; so, leaving the chariot by some low fir trees, the two gods proceeded to climb up the slippery side of the mountain.

Almost at the top they came upon Hymer’s castle, and they entered the spacious hall where a huge fire, made of entire trees, was burning on the hearth. Near the fire was seated Tyr’s grandmother, a hideous old giantess who did not speak to the two gods as they entered, but only grinned horridly at them, showing her long, pointed teeth that looked like a wolf’s fangs. Beside her sat a beautiful woman spinning flax with a golden wheel. This was Tyr’s mother, who was as lovely as the old woman was hideous, and as kind as the hag was cruel. She welcomed her son affectionately, but warned him that both he and Thor had better keep hidden until they found out whether Hymer was disposed to be friendly—for when the giant was angry he was not a pleasant person to encounter.

Late in the evening Hymer came home, tired and ill-tempered after an unsuccessful day’s fishing. He shook the snow from his clothes and combed the ice out of his long, white beard. Then he sat down by the fire, and while he watched the meat turn on the spit, Tyr’s mother said softly: “Our son has come to see you. Shall we welcome him to the fire?” Before Hymer could answer, the old giantess croaked out, “And Thor has come with him—the strongest god in Asgard and the enemy of our race.”

Hymer looked very angry as he heard this, and when his old mother cried, “Look, they are hiding behind the furthest pillar,” the giant stared at the pillar with such a piercing look that it cracked in two. Then the beam overhead suddenly snapped, and the kettles that were hanging from it fell with a crash to the floor. There were eight of these kettles, and among them was the huge one of which Tyr had spoken to the sea-god. All of the kettles were broken by the fall except the largest; and as Hymer was stooping to pick this up, Tyr and Thor walked out from behind the pillar.

The giant was not very well pleased to see Thor, but as the visitor came in company with his son, he decided to treat him civilly. So he invited the two gods to come and eat with him, and made a place for them by the fire. There were three oxen served for supper; and after Thor had eaten two of them and started on a third, Hymer cried:—

“Ho, there! If you eat all our meat, you will have to catch us some fish to-morrow.” Thor laughed and replied that he was only too glad of a chance to go fishing. So next morning when the giant set off at sunrise, Thor went with him to the beach, and watched him get the lines and the nets ready. “If I am to catch the fish, will you give me some bait?” he asked, and Hymer replied with a growl, “Go and find some for yourself.”

So Thor went over to the meadow where the giant’s cattle were grazing, and, seizing the largest bull by the neck, he wrung off its head, and carried this down to the boat. Hymer was very angry at this treatment of his property, but he said nothing, only bade Thor take the oars. Then he gave the boat a great shove, and sprang in with such violence that the whole craft was almost overturned.

Under Thor’s quick strokes the boat shot over the water like an arrow, and the giant looked a bit surprised to see how well his companion could pull. With every dip of the oars the boat gathered speed, and they very soon reached Hymer’s fishing ground. He then called to Thor to stop rowing, but the god only shook his head and pulled all the harder. In a few moments they were out of sight of land, and the boat was swinging heavily in the trough of the sea. Hymer begged Thor not to go any farther, but the god laughed and said,—

“There is much better fishing a few miles ahead.” Then he bent hard at the oars, and the boat flew over the waves with incredible swiftness. Soon Hymer began to be frightened, and called loudly, “If you go much farther, we shall be over the Midgard serpent.”

Now this was just what Thor intended; so he kept on rowing until they were just over the spot where the huge snake lay coiled at the bottom of the ocean with his tail in his mouth. Then Thor drew in his oars and began to bait his line with the bull’s head. Hymer had his things all ready for fishing, and as soon as he dropped his line into the sea the bait was grabbed with a sudden jerk which nearly toppled the giant overboard. Regaining his balance, he proudly pulled up out of the water two whales, and flung them in the boat. Then Thor threw out his line, and in a moment the whole sea was in an uproar, for the bait had been seized by the Midgard serpent and the hook was now caught fast in its great mouth.

When Thor felt the terrible pull on his line, he grasped it with all his might, and braced himself against the side of the boat. The serpent was indeed a match for him in strength, and Thor—to prevent being dragged out into the water—set himself with such force against the framework of the boat that his feet broke right through, and he found himself standing on the bottom of the sea. Here he could take such firm hold that he was able to draw the serpent up to the edge of the boat. The monster lashed the waves fiercely with its tail, and churned the water into foam as it writhed about in its efforts to get free from the torturing hook. Its great head rose above the boat’s side, and in its struggles the beast looked more terrifying than when its glittering eyes and great coiled body frightened the dwellers in Asgard.

But Thor was determined not to let the serpent go, so he only pulled the harder and the sea became a great whirlpool of blood and foam and tossing waves. Hymer, who had been looking on in amazement at Thor’s strength, now sprang forward and cut the line just as the god was raising his hammer to crush the monster’s head. The Midgard serpent immediately sank out of sight, and Thor—wrathful at Hymer’s interference—struck the giant such a blow that he tumbled headlong into the sea. In a moment, however, he had scrambled back into the boat, and bade Thor take up the oars and row back to land. When they reached the shore, Hymer slung the two whales over his shoulder, and carried them up to his castle. Thor, having no fish, picked up the boat, and brought it along with him.

As soon as they were seated again by the fire, Hymer challenged his guest to prove his great strength by breaking a certain drinking-cup. Thor took the cup and threw it against the furthest stone pillar. It struck with a terrific crash, but—much to Thor’s surprise—it fell to the ground unbroken. Then he hurled it at the massive granite wall, but it bounded back like a ball, and dropped at his feet. Thor looked very disconcerted as he stared at the uncracked surface of the cup; and, as he was about to own himself defeated, he heard a soft voice say, “Throw it at Hymer’s head.”

Though he knew that this kindly advice was given by Tyr’s mother, he did not dare to turn and thank her, but he took up the cup and dashed it at Hymer’s forehead. Terrific as the blow was, it did not seem to harm the giant at all, but the cup was shattered in a thousand pieces. The giant was very angry at having lost his wager; but he was now so thoroughly afraid of Thor’s great strength and cunning that he made no objection when Tyr asked for the great kettle to carry back to the sea-god Æger. “Take it then, if you must,” he growled sullenly. Tyr made the first attempt to lift the kettle, but he could not so much as raise it from the ground. Thor, however, picked it up with great ease and set it on his head like a helmet. Then he marched boldly out of Hymer’s castle with Tyr following close behind him.

They had not gone very far down the mountain when Tyr, looking back, cried out that they were being pursued. And true enough, right at their heels was Hymer with a great company of giants ready to fall upon them. Thor did not even lift the kettle from his shoulders, but he swung Mjölner around his head until the lightning flashed and the thunder shook the hills. Then he rushed at the giants, hurling the hammer right and left; and in a short time not one of the pursuers remained alive. Then Thor and Tyr resumed their journey, and soon came to the spot where the goat-chariot was waiting. This bore them swiftly to Æger’s palace, and the gods laughed merrily when they saw Thor enter with the kettle on his head. That night there was such a mighty brewing of ale that it seemed as if none of the company could ever be thirsty again.

The Building of the Fortress

ALTHOUGH the gods had felt less fear of the frost-giants since the mighty Mjölner had been given to Thor, they were often very anxious when the Thunderer was obliged—as he sometimes was—to go off on a long journey. Then Asgard was left quite unprotected; for although the gods were brave and strong fighters, they would be no match for the frost-giants if their old enemies came against them in great numbers. So they wished very much for some assurance of safety in Thor’s absence; and the best protection would undoubtedly be a high stone fortress that would encircle the whole of Asgard. But who was to build it?

Even if some of the gods were willing to undertake such a long, difficult task, who among them could spare the time for it, and who could lift the heavy stones that would be needed for the work? It seemed therefore as if the hope of having a fortress must be given up, for even Loki’s quick wit could devise nothing; but one morning Heimdall, who guarded the rainbow bridge, blew a loud blast on his horn to announce the approach of a stranger. When Odin looked down from his throne, he saw a huge figure standing beside Heimdall, and he knew at once that his visitor was one of the frost-giants. He stepped down from his golden throne, and, crossing the many-coloured Bifrost, he stood before the stranger.

“What do you seek here in sunny Asgard?” he asked.

“I am a master-builder,” replied the giant, “and I have been told that you needed a clever mason to build you a fortress. Give me the work to do and you shall have a strong wall about your shining city.”

Now Odin knew that no word about the proposed fortress had ever been breathed outside of Asgard; but he knew also that it was useless to make any denial, for the frost-giants, with their mysterious wisdom, had somehow learned the truth. So he said to the stranger: “We do need a fortress. Can you build one strong enough to resist any attack?”

“That I can,” replied the giant, quickly. “And when my work is finished, I will promise you that all the forces in the universe could not move one stone from the wall.”

“How long will it take you to build the fortress?” asked Odin.

“Just one year—which is a very short allowance of time for so great a task,” answered the giant.

“And what payment do you ask for your work?”

“My wages must be the sun and moon and Freya for my wife,” cried the giant, boldly.

This demand astonished and angered Odin; but, remembering how much he was in need of such help as the giant could give, he concealed his wrath under soft words and bade the master-builder come the next day for his answer.

When Odin called the gods together in the great council-hall and told them what the frost-giant demanded as payment for his work, a murmur of disapproval arose. Soon all the company cried out against making so dreadful a sacrifice; for it would be cruel to deliver the beautiful Freya to the arms of a giant. It was impossible to lose the maiden who was the light and joy of Asgard, and it was equally impossible to take the sun and moon from the heavens and compel the helpless earth to sit forever in darkness. So the gods decided to tell the giant that they would not accept his terms. Just then Loki spoke up.

“Let my wit and cunning—which you always condemn—find a way out of the difficulty. We will agree to the builder’s demands, but you may trust me to see that he does not get a single one of the things he covets.”

The gods were apt to doubt Loki’s wisdom, and they always distrusted his motives; but they knew that his craftiness and trickery often helped him in his own difficulties, and they were now willing to use any means that offered a way out of their trouble. So they listened to Loki’s plans, and next day, when the giant came for his answer, Odin told him that the gods would accept his terms if he would promise to build the fortress in a single winter. He was also to agree to give up his claims if the work was not finished by the first day of summer.

The giant was not pleased with these conditions, and he grumbled a great deal about the short time that was given him. He promised, however, to undertake the building of the fortress, and agreed to have it finished by the first day of summer if he could have his horse to help him in his work. Now Loki was not present when the giant made this request; but Odin saw no reason why it should not be granted, so he told the builder to come the next day at sunrise and bring his horse with him. When Loki saw how the giant was going to be helped in the work, he was not so certain that his own wit could save the day; for the helper which the builder brought was an immense horse named Svadilfare, who could work night and day. This wonderful creature not only dragged the great blocks of stone for the building, but also set them in place with his strong fore-legs. The gods looked on in dismay as they saw how fast the work progressed, and berated Loki for having induced them to accept the giant’s offer.

The long winter wore on, and the fortress grew as if by magic. The giant worked steadily without taking a moment to rest, and the wonderful Svadilfare brought pile after pile of huge stones to the spot where the builder was toiling with might and main. A few days before the end of the winter the work was all finished except one large slab that was to form the top of the gateway. The gods were now so alarmed at the prospect of having to pay the giant his extortionate wages that they threatened Loki with the direst punishments if he did not find some way out of the difficulty.

So that night as Svadilfare was wearily dragging to the gateway the last stone that was to complete the fortress, Loki changed himself into a pretty little mare; and, trotting up to the great horse, said—in perfect equine language—“Why must you work so hard when there are yet three days in which to lay this stone? Come with me for a romp in the meadows. You can be back again before your master returns.”

Now Svadilfare knew that he ought not to leave his work; but his master was absent and he was very tired, and there was plenty of time to lay this last stone. So when the little mare trotted away still calling to him, he kicked off his harness and galloped delightedly after her. When the giant came to view the last of the work, one great stone lay by the unfinished gateway and the horse was nowhere to be seen. Believing that the gods had purposely hidden him in Asgard, he demanded the right to search the city; but no print of Svadilfare’s feet were to be seen on the unmarred streets of gold. Then the giant rushed madly over the earth, and so heavy was his tread that the dwellers in Midgard awoke at night in terror, fearing that an earthquake was shaking the ground beneath them. Into the remotest corners of the earth and even as far as Jötunheim the giant searched for his missing horse; but he never found the secret grove where Loki was in hiding with Svadilfare. When the builder at last returned to Asgard, the first day of summer had dawned, and, by the terms of the agreement, he had forfeited his wages.

The gods had assembled just inside the fortress; and when the giant came raging toward them they were glad that Thor had returned from his long journey and now stood among them with the mighty Mjölner in his hand. The builder knew that in some way he had been tricked into losing his wager; so when Odin demanded that he should leave Asgard and not trouble the gods any further, he flew into a terrible rage and cried,—

“If this fortress were not so strongly built, I would pull it to pieces so that you might not mock me.” Then he rushed past the assembled company and into the many-pillared hall of Valhalla, crying: “Not for nothing does a frost-giant stand within the walls of Asgard. Your palaces are not built to stand forever, and I will send them crashing about your heads.”

As he spoke, he grasped two of the pillars in his powerful arms, and it is probable that the beautiful building would have fallen if Thor had not rushed forward at this moment and struck the giant such a blow with his hammer that the builder’s head was shattered in a thousand pieces. Then the huge body toppled headlong over the rainbow bridge, and kept on falling until at last it sank into the fathomless gulf that borders on the Land of Mists.

Thus the gods obtained their much-needed fortress, and Freya stayed happily in Asgard. There was now a sure protection against the invasion of the frost-giants; but over the gateway, one stone was always lacking, for no one among the gods was strong enough to set it into place.

How the Hammer Was Lost and Found

THE mighty hammer Mjölner was not only a protection to Asgard, but served to keep the frost-giants from doing harm to the earth. This whole race hated brightness, and were not content to live themselves in a land of ice and snow and mist, but tried to make all the world like their own dreary country. They longed to take the sunlight from the earth, to kill the flowers and cover every green thing with a mantle of blighting frost. They would have done all this if they had not been afraid of Thor’s hammer, for whenever they strayed too far from Jötunheim and tried to nip the leaves and flowers with their icy fingers, Thor would drive them out of Midgard with his hammer; and the thunder and lightning would follow hard upon them until they were once more within the limits of their frozen hills.

One day Thor came back from a long journey, and being very tired he dropped down on the steps of his palace and fell into a heavy sleep. When at length he awoke, he found to his horror and dismay that Mjölner was no longer in his hand or by his side. Some one must have come while he was sleeping and stolen it away. Thor felt certain that it was one of the frost-giants, for none of the gods, not even the mischief-loving Loki, would have dared to commit this theft. But no one had seen any of the giants lurking about Asgard, and Odin’s ravens had not met with them in their flights to and from the earth. Yet it must have been some one of their ancient enemies who had stolen Mjölner, and therefore the hammer must be recovered speedily or the whole race of giants would soon come to take possession of Asgard now that its chief means of defence was gone. So Thor went in haste to Loki and begged him to devise some plan to recover the hammer.

“I will go myself,” said Loki, “and see if I can find out who has stolen Mjölner. Perhaps we can regain it before it is too late, for the thief may not yet have spread the news of its capture to his kindred.” Thor was ready to welcome any suggestion, so he readily agreed to this plan, and Loki hurried off to the flower-filled garden where Freya was wont to walk.[27] He told the goddess of the theft of Mjölner and begged her to lend him her falcon plumage so that he might waste no time in his search. Freya gladly gave him her feathery disguise, and Loki sped northward across the frozen sea until he came to Jötunheim. He shivered continually under his delicate plumage, for this ice-bound land with its snow-covered mountains wrapped in the cold of eternal winter was different indeed from sunny Asgard.

[27] Freya’s palace was called Folkvang. She sometimes drove in a chariot drawn by cats. From her name comes our word Friday. [Back]

He walked for a long time without meeting any one, but at last he found the giant Thrym seated on the side of a mountain, counting his flock of sheep. The giant was very ugly, and he was also terribly big and strong, but Loki felt no fear of him. He perched on a rock beside Thrym, who looked at him craftily a moment and then said, “Why does Loki try to deceive those who know more than the gods?”

Seeing that his disguise would now be of little service, Loki assumed his own form, and drawing nearer to the giant greeted him in turn as a friend. Thrym did not seem at all surprised at seeing a god in Jötunheim; but he looked rather uneasily around, and went on counting his sheep without replying to Loki’s greeting. The cunning god then instantly surmised that here was the thief who had taken Thor’s hammer; so, in threatening tones, he accused the giant of the theft, and demanded that Mjölner be at once returned. It was a bold stroke, but it did not deceive Thrym in the least, for he knew that Loki was making mere empty threats, since Mjölner was no longer in Asgard.

Then Loki made the giant many promises of rich rewards from Odin, and told him of the good-will which all the gods would have for him if he returned the hammer to Thor. At this Thrym began to laugh, and he laughed so loud that the trees upon the mountain shook. Then he tore up by the roots a huge oak tree and threw it like a straw into the sea, and turning to Loki said: “You will never find that hammer, friend Loki, for I have buried it nine fathoms in the earth, and neither you nor Thor shall ever see it again. Yet, if you really need the hammer as a protection to your city, there is one condition on which I return it. You must give me the beautiful Freya for my wife.”

This proposal rather staggered Loki, for he knew how impossible such a thing was. But he said nothing, only bade Thrym good-by and hastened back to Asgard.

When Loki reported to Odin the result of his journey, the gods held a council to decide what it was best to do. Of course it was out of the question to try to induce Freya to become Thrym’s wife, and Odin could not feel justified in demanding such a sacrifice. When the maiden herself learned of the giant’s proposal, she grew so angry at the insult that the necklace of stars which she wore around her slender throat broke; and as the shining pieces fell through the air, people in Midgard exclaimed with delight at the shooting stars.

Since it was impossible to think of yielding Freya to a giant even to recover Mjölner, the gods tried to form some other plan, and again they turned to Loki for help, for he alone was clever enough to outwit the giant.

“There is no way to get the hammer,” said Loki, “except by giving Thrym a bride; and since we cannot send any of the goddesses to the cold northland, we must find the giant another wife. Let us dress up Thor like a woman and send him instead.”

“Never,” roared Thor; “I should be the laughing-stock of every one in Asgard.”

“Nonsense,” replied Loki, who rather enjoyed having Thor at his mercy; “and what if you were? Is that anything compared to seeing the whole race of frost-giants at the gates of Asgard? If something is not done very soon, they will be ruling here in our places.”

The situation was indeed so critical that at length Thor consented to the plan, though much against his will. So Loki put on him a rich robe embroidered with gold, and wound a chain about his neck and put a beautiful girdle at his waist. Then he threw over Thor’s head a long bridal-veil, while he attired himself as a waiting maid to attend the bride. The gods harnessed Thor’s milk-white goats to the chariot, and together Thor and Loki set out for the frost-giants’ country. It was very difficult to restrain the pretended bride from thrusting her sinewy hands from under the veil, and Loki feared that even a love-lorn giant would not be fooled into believing that those massive shoulders belonged to a maiden.

When Thrym beheld the bridal party coming, he was filled with joy and ran to meet them. He wished very much to raise the bride’s veil, but Loki forbade him until after the wedding ceremony.

“The goddess Freya who has come to be your wife is very timid,” said Loki, “and you must not distress her with your attentions, or she may grow frightened and wish to return to Asgard.” So Thrym obeyed Loki’s command, and led the bride to his palace, where his kinsmen were assembled. There they found the tables spread with meat and wine as if for a feast. Thrym urged his bride to partake of the fruits and delicacies which had been brought especially for her, and with some show of reluctance the supposed woman began to eat. First she devoured eight large salmon, then twelve roasted birds, and soon followed this up with eating a whole ox and drinking three barrels of mead.

“Did ever a maiden eat like this one?” thought the giants, and in their hearts they pitied Thrym for getting such a wife. When they spoke of the bride’s appetite to Loki, he replied, “It is eight days since Freya has eaten anything, for she was so overjoyed at wedding Thrym, that she could not touch any food.” Thrym was too happy to notice what the bride ate, and when the feast was over he cried to his brother, “Bring hither the hammer Mjölner and place it in the bride’s lap; then let us be wedded in the name of Var.”

So the hammer was brought and placed in Thor’s hand; but the minute his fingers closed around it he tore the veil from his face, and the terrified giants beheld, not the mild countenance of Freya, but the face of the Thunderer himself. It was too late now to escape, and the giants were so frightened that they could not move, even if they had known where to flee from the fierce anger that blazed in Thor’s eyes. He had barely swung the hammer twice around his head when thunder and lightning was mingled with the crash of falling buildings; and those of the giants who were not killed by the blows of the hammer were buried beneath the crumbling ruins. Thus did Mjölner return at last to Asgard.

Iduna’s Apples

THOUGH sorrow sometimes came to the people of Asgard and they shared the burden of grief and trouble that afflicted the human race, yet as gods they had one privilege which belonged to them alone,—the blessing of eternal youth. Sickness and old age never came within the gates of Asgard; and this was because the goddess Iduna had some very wonderful apples which gave, to those who ate of them, the strength and beauty of youth.

In appearance they were very much like other apples, of a beautiful red and gold; but when the gods had eaten of them they knew that such fruit could not be found anywhere outside of Asgard. For no other apples except those in Iduna’s casket could bestow eternal youth and the power to defy all sickness and pain.

The goddess herself was very proud of her treasures, and proud, too, of the confidence which Odin placed in her in making her the guardian of a thing so priceless. The casket in which she kept the apples had only a single key, and this Iduna kept fastened to her girdle. Wherever she went she carried the precious casket with her, and never let it be for a moment out of her sight. The gods felt no uneasiness while the apples were in such safe keeping, and there seemed to be no reason why they should ever lose the beauty and health and youth which had always been theirs. But one day both Iduna and her golden apples disappeared from Asgard, and no one knew where they had gone,—no one but Loki, and he would not tell. This is how it happened.

Odin and Loki and Hœnir once went on a visit to the land of the frost-giants to find out, if possible, whether they were plotting any new invasion of Asgard. It was an uncomfortable journey, for the air was bitterly cold and the ground hard and frozen, so there was no pleasure in travelling. They even felt rather sorry for the people who were condemned to live forever in such a cheerless country. They were hungry, too, and could find nothing to eat; no game to kill, no fish to catch, not even any wild berries upon the barren hillsides. So Odin proposed that they return at once to Asgard; but just then Loki saw a herd of cows grazing near by, and exclaimed:—

“Here is meat in abundance. Let us eat before we set out again on our journey.”

Then he killed the fattest of the cows, and bore it on his shoulder to the spot where Odin and Hœnir were already building a fire. They cut the meat and put it upon a spit; and while Loki turned it, the two others piled logs upon the fire. Now and then they tasted the flesh, thinking it must be cooked; but each time it was as raw as when they had first cut it. Then Odin threw on more logs, and the heat became so intense that the gods could hardly stand near it. Still the meat remained uncooked. All night long they took turns cooking and tending the fire; but morning found them hungrier than ever, and with yet no prospect of a meal. This was too much for even the good-natured Hœnir, while Loki became so angry that he would have killed the whole herd of cows and thrown them into the sea out of mere spite. But Odin laughed and said:—

“Nay, Loki, do not let us vent our anger so foolishly. We will return, rather, to Asgard, and tell the gods that, in spite of the drink from Mimir’s well, the frost-giants are yet wiser than Odin.” For he knew that it was through some mysterious intervention of their old enemy that they could not enjoy the much-needed dinner.

Just then there came a loud noise and a whirring of wings overhead, and, looking up, they saw a large eagle hovering above them.

“Ha, ha,” he cried, “so you cannot cook your dinner, I see. The meat must be tough indeed that will not yield to such a fire. But give me your promise that you will share the feast with me, and I will pledge you to get it cooked.”

The gods promised very gladly, and the eagle, moving nearer, said,—

“Stand aside and let me blow up the fire.”

Suspecting nothing, the gods moved away, and as they did so the eagle swooped down, and, seizing in his strong claws all the meat that was on the spit, he began to flap his huge wings and rise slowly into the air.

When the gods saw that the eagle meant to trick them, they grew very angry, and Loki, hoping to snatch his prize from the treacherous giant,—for that was what the thief really was,—grasped one end of the spit as it rose into the air and tried to drag it downward. But the eagle’s strength was greater than the god’s, and he flew higher and higher, carrying the luckless Loki with him. Up they soared, far above the heads of the bewildered Hœnir and Odin, who were helpless to rescue their comrade, and could only stand by and watch him disappearing from view. Over the frozen sea and the snow-covered mountains the eagle carried the unhappy Loki, not pausing in his flight until they reached a huge iceberg. Here he stopped, and dropped Loki upon the ground, where the bruised and weary god was glad to rest; for the eagle had dragged him over ice and snow, sharp stones and frost-bound stubble that stung like so many thorns.

The moment the bird alighted it was no longer an eagle, but the giant Thiassi, who grinned maliciously and said,—

“How do you like flying, friend Loki?”

Loki was in such a rage that he was tempted to try to hurl the giant from the iceberg. He knew, however, that this would only shut him off from a speedy return to his companions, so he restrained his anger and said:—

“You can indeed rival the gods in swiftness, and I should be glad to journey farther with you, but Odin demands my return to Asgard. Take me back to him, therefore, with all speed.”

The giant laughed at Loki’s assumed boldness, and answered: “The gods are great indeed, but the frost-giants have no fear of them. Odin may need you in Asgard, but you shall not return except on one condition—that you promise to deliver into my power the goddess Iduna and her golden apples.”

For some time Loki did not answer, for he hardly dared to make such a promise, since the loss of Iduna from Asgard would mean old age and possible death to the gods. Still, he did not intend to remain any longer on the iceberg. Knowing well the stubborn persistence of the whole race of giants, he felt that cajolery and threats were alike useless, so he said,—

“I will promise.”

The giant knew Loki’s reputation for cunning, and therefore he demanded that the god should swear by Odin’s spear to keep his promise. Loki did this, though with great reluctance, and the giant then assumed his eagle plumage and carried the god swiftly back to the place where Odin and Hœnir were still standing by the burnt-out fire. In answer to their questions, Loki told them of his strange journey, but made no mention of his promise to the giant. Then the three gods returned to Asgard.

Some time later, Loki went to the palace of Iduna and asked to see her apples. The goddess willingly brought out her casket, for she never wearied of looking at the precious fruit; but as she handed Loki the apples, she said,—

“It is strange indeed for you to care so much for beauty—or is it that life is aging you more quickly than the others of Asgard, and you need still another of Iduna’s apples?”

“Nay,” replied Loki, “it is not for that reason that I desire to see your beautiful fruit; but because I wish to assure myself that they are really the best apples in the world.”

“Why, where would you find such as these?” asked Iduna in surprise.

“Just beyond the gates of Asgard,” answered Loki, “is a wonderful tree which bears fruit in all respects like these apples you prize so highly. I think they look even fresher, and as I tasted them I felt sure that they were finer in flavour than any you have here. It is a pity you cannot go and see them.”

“Is it far from here?” asked the goddess, wistfully.

“No, indeed,” replied Loki; “just outside the city gates. It would be such a delight to you to see them, for they are so fine as they hang in the sunlight, and so easy to reach, too. Some day I will tell you more about them, but now I must be away, for Odin has a commission for me to-day.” So saying, he took his departure, and Iduna was left alone.

For a long time she thought over what Loki had said, and the longing grew very strong to go and see those apples which he had declared were even finer than her own. She dared not go away and leave her casket behind; but there surely could be no harm in taking it with her just a little way outside the gates of Asgard. Still she was doubtful and troubled, and wished that her husband, Bragi, were at home, that she might ask his advice. For a long time she hesitated, but at last her curiosity grew too strong to be resisted, and with her casket on her arm she left the palace and hurried outside the city gates.

She looked carefully all about her, but she saw no tree such as Loki had described. Discouraged and disappointed, she was about to return home, when she heard a loud noise overhead, and, looking up, saw a large eagle flying toward her. In a moment he had rushed down upon her, and before the terrified goddess realized what had happened, he had caught her up in his strong claws, and was carrying her above the tree tops. In vain did she scream and struggle, for the eagle soared higher and higher, carrying her far out of sight of Asgard. He flew straight as an arrow across the mountains and over the frozen sea till he came to his home in the dreary northland. Here he took the form of the terrible giant Thiassi and began to beg the goddess for one of her apples. Iduna, frightened and trembling, kept the precious key of the casket clasped tight in her hand, and boldly refused to betray her trust by giving the giant even a sight of the apples. So Thiassi shut her up in his ice-walled palace[28] and kept her there many days, not caring though she grew pale and sick with longing to return to sunny Asgard.

[28] Called Thrymheim. [Back]

Meantime, the gods were greatly troubled at the sudden disappearance of Iduna; and her husband, Bragi, sought her, sorrowing, over all the earth. No one had seen her leave Asgard, and none knew where she had gone or when she would return,—none save Loki, and he very wisely kept silent. At first the gods did not realize what the loss of Iduna and her apples meant to them; but as time went on and they felt weariness and old age creeping over them, they were filled with fear lest the goddess might never return, and there would be no longer any way to keep Death without the gates of Asgard. Odin’s calm brow now became clouded, for not even his great wisdom was of any help in solving the mystery of Iduna’s strange disappearance. The ravens, flying far and wide each day, brought no news of the missing goddess; and meanwhile Time was leaving its unwelcome marks on the faces of the gods and goddesses. Frigga’s hair began to turn white, and wrinkles furrowed the fair cheeks of Freya. The mighty Mjölner now trembled in the unsteady hand of Thor, and the feeble fingers of Bragi could no longer draw sweet music from his harp; in fact, all the dwellers in Asgard were growing old, and there was no way for them to renew their youth.

One day the ravens whispered to Odin that he should question Loki in regard to Iduna’s disappearance, and Loki was summoned to appear before Odin’s throne. When accused of knowing something of the missing goddess, he at first stoutly denied all knowledge of her; but Odin’s look seemed to search his thoughts, and he saw that lying and deceit were of no avail. So he told all that he had done, and begged Odin’s forgiveness. He promised to set out at once in search of the stolen goddess, and swore that he would not return to Asgard until he had found her and had brought Iduna and her apples safely home again. Once more he borrowed the falcon plumage of Freya and flew over to the frozen northland to the place where the giant kept Iduna a prisoner in his ice palace. He found her sitting alone and weeping bitterly; but Loki wasted no time in trying to comfort her. She was so overjoyed when the god assumed his own form and told her why he had come that she even forgave him for the misery he had led her into by his treachery. She said that fortunately Thiassi was off on his daily walk across the hills; but Loki, wishing to take all precautions, again put on his falcon plumage, and, by his magic arts, changed the goddess into a nut which he grasped firmly in his talons. Then, being warned by Iduna that the giant never remained long away, he flew with her straight toward Asgard.

They had not gone far when Thiassi came home; and when he found Iduna gone, he knew that some of the gods must have come to her rescue. Nevertheless he determined not to lose her so easily; and taking the form of an eagle he flew high up into the air and looked about for some sign of the fugitive. Far in the distance he saw a moving speck among the clouds, and he followed quickly in pursuit. As he drew nearer he saw the falcon and its burden, and he knew that Iduna was being carried back to Asgard. So he redoubled his speed, and his great wings brought him rapidly nearer the falcon, whose laboured flight seemed to make an escape from the enemy impossible.

At Asgard the gods had assembled on the city walls, and they were now looking anxiously across the earth, fearing that some misfortune had overtaken Loki. At last they saw the falcon flying toward them, and they felt sure that this was Loki returning with his precious charge. But with the joy of this discovery came also a sudden fear as they saw the eagle following close behind the falcon, and seemingly in hot pursuit. These fears were confirmed as the birds drew nearer; and then the gods realized that if they would save Loki and Iduna, something must be done at once. Nearer and nearer came the falcon; but though his flight was swift, he could not keep the pace of his pursuer, and the eagle was steadily gaining on him. By this time the gods had built a great pile of wood on the city walls and were waiting until the falcon with his priceless burden had flown across it. The moment Loki passed, they quickly set fire to the wood; and as the eagle came rushing blindly on, he flew directly over the flames, which caught his feathers and drew him down into the fire, burning him to death.

Iduna and her apples were safe at last in Asgard, and to celebrate her return Odin made a great feast in his palace hall, and the gods ate again of the golden fruit and became young and beautiful once more.

How Thor’s Pride Was Brought Low
PART I

ONE morning Thor drove hurriedly out of Asgard in his chariot drawn by the milk-white goats, and set out on a wonderful journey. He did not tell Odin where he intended to go, for he knew that the All-Wise One would try to persuade him to give up the foolish expedition. For Thor’s purpose was to travel all through Jötunheim until he met with the strongest of the giants, and then challenge him to a combat.

So he left Asgard secretly, and, avoiding the rainbow bridge as he always did when in his heavy-wheeled chariot, he directed his swift steeds toward Jötunheim. But though he passed through the gates of Asgard unseen by Odin, he was not quick enough for Loki, who, thinking that Thor’s haste betokened some unusual adventure, put on his magic shoes and followed the goats’ flying feet. He found Thor quite willing to take him as a companion, and together the two gods hurried northward. They had hoped to reach Utgard, the great city of the giants, before night fell; but by the time they gained the shores of the ever-frozen sea that marks the boundary of Jötunheim, they found that it was too dark to travel any farther. So they looked about for some place to pass the night, and just over the hill they saw a small hut with a friendly light streaming from the window. When they asked here for food and shelter, the cottager gladly offered them a lodging for the night, but he confessed, reluctantly, that he had no food to give them.

“That trouble is soon remedied,” cried Thor; and stepping over to where his goats stood browsing on the scanty grass, he struck them dead with one blow of his hammer. Then to the great surprise of the peasant and his family, he skinned the goats and spread their hides carefully upon the ground. After this was done, he offered their bodies to his host, saying: “Here is meat enough to furnish us with a bountiful dinner. I must beg of you, however, not to break a single one of the animals’ bones, but throw them all on the goatskins.”

The peasant and his wife carefully obeyed Thor’s instructions, but the son, Thialfi, was so eager to get at the marrow in his bone that he broke it. This greedy act was not seen, however, so the boy hoped that no harm would come from his disobedience. The next morning when the gods made ready to resume their journey, Thor struck the goatskins with his hammer, and immediately the bones leaped into place. In a moment the two animals stood alive and whole before the eyes of the astonished cottagers; but one of the goats limped badly. When Thor noticed this he knew that his commands had been disobeyed, and he questioned the peasants angrily. He looked so terrible in his wrath that poor Thialfi did not dare to confess that he had broken the bone; and it was only when Thor threatened to kill the whole family if the guilt were not acknowledged, that the boy, terrified and trembling, admitted his deed.

As he seemed so truly sorry for what he had done, Thor relented and offered to take the lad with him as his servant. So, leaving the goats and the chariot in care of the peasant, the two gods resumed their journey. It was impossible to go very fast on foot, as the ground was frozen hard and covered with sharp bits of ice that cut through the travellers’ light sandals. The difficulty in crossing the river was increased by the strong wind which blew from the high, bleak hills of Jötunheim, and seemed to lay an icy hand upon them.

So it was well on into the night before Thor and Loki reached a desolate stretch of moorland with mountains standing like grim sentinels all around it. This was the very heart of the frost-giants’ country. There was no protection here that promised a night’s rest, so the travellers kept on till they came to a strange building which, in the darkness, seemed to be a five-doored house, opening into a large courtyard. Here the gods built a fire to cook their evening meal, and then went gladly to bed, each of them taking one of the long, narrow rooms.

They had just fallen asleep when a great noise like the roaring of an angry sea filled their ears, and this was accompanied by a sort of trembling in the ground beneath them. Thinking it was a sudden earthquake, they waited for it to subside; but the rumbling only increased, and the strange noise grew almost deafening. This continued for hours, so that the travellers gave up all hope of sleeping, and at sunrise they set off again on their journey, after eating a hasty and sullen meal.

Their road now lay through the thick woods, and here they were soon halted by the sight of a giant stretched full length upon the ground. He was so big that even Thor and Loki, accustomed as they were to the size of the frost-giants, stared at him in surprise. As for Thialfi, he dropped the bag of provisions he was carrying, and hid behind a tree. The mystery of the strange noise was now solved, for the gods saw that it was merely the giant’s snoring. The trees around him shook with his tremendous breathing, and the hills reëchoed to the deafening roar.

The sight of the giant sleeping so peacefully aroused Thor’s anger, and he determined not to be disturbed any longer by the prodigious snoring. So he raised his hammer to strike a well-aimed blow at the sleeper; but just then the giant awoke. He sat up, and, smiling good-naturedly at the travellers, said, “What brings the mighty Thor and cunning Loki so far from Asgard?”

As it would be useless to try and deceive any one as wise as a frost-giant, Thor replied: “I have come to Jötunheim to measure my strength against the mightiest of your people. Will you show us the way to the city of Utgard?”