When, at length, Odin found himself in the land of giants--frost
giants, mountain giants, three-headed and wolf-headed giants,
monsters and iron witches of every kind--he walked straight on,
without stopping to fight with any one of them, until he came to the
middle of Jörmungand's body. Then he seized the monster, growing
fearfully as he was all the time, and threw him headlong into the
deep ocean. There Jörmungand still grew, until, encircling the whole
earth, he found that his tail was growing down his throat, after
which he lay quite still, binding himself together; and neither Odin
nor any one else has been able to move him thence. When Odin had
thus disposed of Jörmungand, henceforth called the Midgard Serpent,
he went on to the house of Loki's wife. The door was thrown open, and
the wicked Witch-mother sat in the entrance, whilst on one side
crouched Fenrir, her ferocious wolf-son, and on the other stood Hela,
most terrible of monsters and women. A crowd of giants strode after
Odin, curious to obtain a glance of Loki's strange children before
they should be sent away. At Fenrir and the Witch-mother they stared
with great eyes, joyfully and savagely glittering; but when he looked
at Hela each giant became as pale as new snow, and cold with terror
as a mountain of ice. Pale, cold, frozen, they never moved again; but
a rugged chain of rocks stood behind Odin, and he looked on fearless
and unchilled.
"Strange daughter of Loki," he said, speaking to Hela, "you have the
head of a queen, proud forehead, and large, imperial eyes; but your
heart is pulseless, and your cruel arms kill what they embrace.
Without doubt you have somewhere a kingdom; not where the sun shines,
and men breathe the free air, but down below in infinite depths,
where bodiless spirits wander, and the cast-off corpses are cold."
Then Odin pointed downwards towards Niflheim, and Hela sank right
through the earth, downward, downward, to that abyss of abysses,
where she ruled over spectres, and made for herself a home called
Helheim, nine lengthy kingdoms wide and deep.
After this, Odin desired Fenrir to follow him, promising that if he
became tractable and obedient, and exchanged his ferocity for
courage, he should not be banished as his brother and sister had
been. So Fenrir followed, and Odin led the way out of Jötunheim,
across the ocean, over the earth, until he came to the heavenly
hills, which held up the southern sky tenderly in their glittering
arms. There, half on the mountain-top and half in air, sat Heimdall,
guardian of the tremulous bridge Bifröst, that arches from earth to
heaven.
Heimdall was a tall, white Van, with golden teeth, and a wonderful
horn, called the Giallar Horn, which he generally kept hidden under
the tree Yggdrasil; but when he blew it the sound went out into all
worlds.
Now, Odin had never been introduced to Heimdall--had never even seen
him before; but he did not pass him by without speaking on that
account. On the contrary, being altogether much struck by his
appearance, he could not refrain from asking him a few questions.
First, he requested to know whom he had the pleasure of addressing;
secondly, who his parents were, and what his education had been; and
thirdly, how he explained his present circumstances and occupation.
"My name is Heimdall," answered the guardian of Bifröst, "and the son
of nine sisters am I. Born in the beginning of time, at the
boundaries of the earth, I was fed on the strength of the earth and
the cold sea. My training, moreover, was so perfect, that I now need
no more sleep than a bird. I can see for a hundred miles around me as
well by night as by day; I can hear the grass growing and the wool on
the backs of sheep. I can blow mightily my horn Giallar, and I for
ever guard the tremulous bridge-head against monsters, giants, iron
witches, and dwarfs."
Then asked Odin, gravely, "Is it also forbidden to the Æsir to pass
this way, Heimdall? Must you guard Bifröst, also, against them?"
"Assuredly not," answered Heimdall. "All Æsir and heroes are free to
tread its trembling, many-coloured pavement, and they will do well to
tread it, for above the arch's summit I know that the Urda fountain
springs; rises, and falls, in a perpetual glitter, and by its sacred
waters the Nornir dwell--those three mysterious, mighty maidens,
through whose cold fingers run the golden threads of Time."
"Enough, Heimdall," answered Odin. "Tomorrow we will come."