PART VI. ODHÆRIR.

Now upon a day it happened that Odin sat silent by the Well of Urd,

and in the evening he mounted Air Throne with a troubled mind.

Allfather could see into Dwarf Home from his high place, as well as

over man's world; his keen eye pierced, also, the mountains and

darkness of Jötunheim.

On this evening, a tear, the fate-sisters' gift, swam across his

vision, and--behold, is that an answering tear which he sees down

there in Dwarf Home, large, luminous, golden, in the dark heart of

the earth? "Can dwarfs weep?" exclaimed Allfather, surprised as he

looked a second and a third time, and went on looking. Fialar and

Galar, the cunning dwarfs who had killed Kvasir, were kneeling

beside the tear. "Is it theirs?" said Allfather again, "and do they

repent?" No; it was not a tear; Odin knew it at last. More precious

still, it was Kvasir's blood--golden mead now, because of the

honey-drops from Earth's thousand bees and flowers which these

thoughtless mischief-schemers, but wonder workers, had poured into

it. "It is three," said Odin, "three precious draughts!--Odhærir is

its name--and now the dwarfs will drink it, and the life and the

light, and the sweetness of the world will be spilt, and the heart of

the world will die!" But the dwarfs did not drink it; they could only

sip it a little, just a drop or two at a time. The Father of Hosts

watched how they were amusing themselves.

Fialar and Galar, and a whole army of the little blackfaced,

crooked-limbed creatures, were tilting the big jars over to one side,

whilst first one, and then another, sucked the skim of their golden

sweetness, smacking their lips after it, grinning horribly, leaping

up into the air with strange gestures; falling backwards with shut

eyes some of them, as if asleep; tearing at the earth and the stones

of their cavern homes others, like wild beasts; rolling forth

beautiful, senseless, terrible words.

It was Fialar and Galar who did that; and behold, in a little while,

one after another, the dwarfs gathered round them as they spoke, and

listened, open-mouthed, with clenched fists, stamping, and roaring

applause until at last they seized the weapons that lay near, cocked

their earth caps, each alit with a coloured star, and marched in

warlike fashion, led on by Fialar and Galar, straight up through

their cavernous ways, to Manheim, and across it into the Frozen Land.

Giant Vafthrûdnir, that "Ancient Talker," he who sits ever in his

Hall weaving new and intricate questions for the gods, saw them; and

looking up towards the brooding heavens, he exchanged glances with

the Father of Hosts. But the dwarfs did not come near Vafthrüdnir's

Halls; they never looked aside at him, nor up to the Air Throne of

the Asa; only rushed heedlessly on till they stumbled over the Giant

Gilling, who was taking a nap upon the green bank of Ifing. Ifing

looks a lazy stream; one can hardly see at first sight that it flows

at all; but it flows, and flows quietly, unceasingly, and is so deep

that neither god nor giant has ever yet been able to fathom it. It

is, in fact, that stream which divides for ever the Jötuns from the

Gods, and of it Odin himself once said:--

"Open shall it run

Throughout all time,

On that stream no ice shall be."

So the dwarfs found Gilling asleep; they knew how deep Ifing was,

they knew that if they could once roll the giant Gilling in there he

would never get out again, and then they should have done something

worth speaking about.

"I have killed a giant," each dwarf might say, and, who knows, even

the Æsir might begin to feel a little afraid of them.

"It all comes from drinking Kvasir's blood," they said, and then with

their thousand little swords and spears, and sticks and stones, they

worked away until they had plunged the sleeping giant into the

stream. Allfather's piercing eye saw it all, and how the silly dwarfs

jumped and danced about afterwards, and praised themselves, and

defied the whole world, gods, giants and men.

"It is not for us," they said, "any more to run away before Skinfaxi

the shining horse that draws day over humankind, whose mane sheds

light instead of dew; we will dance before him and crown ourselves

with gold, as the gods and as men do every morning."

But, in the midst of all their gleeful folly, the ground they stood

upon began to shake under them, and an enormous darkness grew between

them and the sky. Then the dwarfs stopped their rejoicing as if a

spell had fallen upon them, dropping their weapons, huddling close to

one another, cowering, whispering. Giant Suttung, son of that Gilling

whom they had just slain, was coming upon them in great fury to

avenge his father's death. They were dreadfully frightened; Giant

Gilling asleep had been easy to manage, but a giant awake, a giant

angry--they were not the same dwarfs that they had seemed half an

hour ago--and so it happened that they quite easily let Suttung carry

them all off to a low rock in the sea which was dry just then, but

would be washed over by the morning tide. "There you are," said

Suttung as he threw them all down upon the rock, "and there you shall

stay until the hungry grey wave comes." "But then we shall be

drowned," they all screeched at once, and the seamews started from

their nests ashore and swooped round the lonely rock, and screeched

as well. Suttung strode back to the shore and sat on the high rocks

over the seamews' nests, and poked his fingers into the nests and

played with the grey-winged birds, and paddled his feet in the

breakers, and laughed and echoed the dwarfs and the seamews.

"Drowned, drowned, yes, then you will be drowned." Then the dwarfs

whispered together and consulted, they all talked at once, and every

one of them said a different thing, for they were in fact a little

intoxicated still by the sips they had taken of Odhærir. At last

Fialar and Galar said the same same thing over so often that the

others began to listen to them. "The sky is getting quite grey," they

said, "and the stars are going out, and Skinfaxi is coming, and the

waves are gathering and gathering and gathering; hoarse are the

voices of the Seaking's daughters; but why do we all sit chattering

here instead of getting away as we might easily do if we did but

bribe the giant Suttung with a gift." "Yes, yes, yes," shouted the

silly little people, "shall we give him our cap jewels, or our

swords, or our pick-axes, or our lanterns, or shall we promise to

make him a necklace out of the fire of the sun and the flowers of the

earth, or shall we build him a ship of ships?"

[Illustration: GIANT SUTTUNG AND THE DWARFS.]

"Nonsense," said Fialar and Galar; "How should a giant care for such

things as these? Our swords could not help him; he does not want

pick-axes nor lanterns who lives amongst the mountain snows, nor

ships who can stride across the sea, nor necklaces--Bah! A giant

loves life, he drinks blood, he is greedy besides and longs to taste

the gold mead of the gods."

Then all the dwarfs shouted together, "Let us give him our gold mead,

our wondrous drink, Odhærir, our Kvasir's blood in the three stone

jars."

Odin heard from Air Throne's blue deep. He brooded over the scene.

"The sweetness, and the life, and the light of the world, then," he

said, "are to satiate a giant's greediness of food and blood"--and

it was for mankind that he became Terror in the trembling Height.

Allfather feared nothing for the gods at that time: could he not

pierce into Jötunheim, and Svartheim, and Manheim alike? Suttung

heard also from the Rock.--"And what may this Odhærir be worth that

you boast of so much?" he shouted to the dwarfs. "Wisdom, and labour,

and fire, and life, and love," said the dwarfs. "Tut, tut, tut!"

answered Suttung. "Does it taste well?" "Honey and wine; like the

blood of a God and the milk of the Earth." Then Suttung got up slowly

from the rock, pressing it down with his hands into two little dells

as he rose, and strode to the island, from which he took up all the

dwarfs at a grasp--they clinging to his fists and wrists like needles

to a magnet; and, with one swoop, threw them ashore just as the

hungry waves began to lap and wash about the dwarf's-peril. So the

dwarfs jumped, and leaped, and laughed, and sang, and chattered

again, and ran on before Suttung, to fetch him the golden mead,

Odhærir. Three big stone jars, all full. The Spirit-mover, the

Peace-offer, the Peace-kiss. Suttung lifted the lids, and looked into

the jars. "It doesn't look much," he said; "and, after all, I don't

know that I shall care to taste it; but I'll take the jars home to my

daughter Gunnlöd, and they will make a pretty treasure for her to

keep."

Odin brooded over the scene. It was a grey winter's morning in

Jötunheim--ice over all the rivers, snow upon the mountains,

rime-writing across the woods, weird hoar letters straggling over the

bare branches of the trees, writing such as giants and gods can read,

but men see it only as pearl-drops of the cold. Suttung could read it

well enough as he trudged along to his Mountain Home--better than he

had ever read it before; for was he not bearing upon his shoulders

the wondrous Kvasir's life-giving blood, Odhærir. Odin read it, "This

is ominous, Odin; this is dark. Shall the gold mead be made captive

in frozen halls?" For behold, the life-tear becomes dark in the dark

land, as Suttung's huge door opened to let him in, him and his

treasure, and then closed upon them both, Suttung gave the mead to

his daughter Gunnlöd to keep, to guard it well, and--the heart of

Manheim trembled, it was empty and cold. Then Odin looked north and

south and east and west, over the whole world. "Come to me," he said,

and two swift-winged ravens flew towards him. It seemed as if they

came out of nothing; for in a moment they were not there and they

were there. Their names were Hugin and Munin, and they came from the

ends of the earth, where Odin sent them every morning. Every evening

he was wont to say of them,--

"I fear me for Hugin,

Lest he come not back,

But much more for Munin."

Yet they never failed to come back, both of them, at the dim hour in

which they recounted to the Father of Hosts the history of the day

that was past, and the hope of the day that was to come. On this

evening, Munin's song was so terrible that only the strength of a god

could possibly have endured to its end. Hugin struck another note,

profounder and sweet. Then said Odin, when cadence after cadence had

filled his ears, and he had descended from Air Throne, "Night is the

time for new counsels; let each one reflect until the morrow who is

able to give advice helpful to the Æsir."

But when the jewelled horse ran up along the sky, from whence his

mane shed light over the whole world, when giants and giantesses, and

ghosts and dwarfs crouched beneath Yggdrasil's outer Root, when

Heimdall ran up Bifrost and blew mightily his horn in Heaven's

height, there was only one found who gave counsel to Odin, and that

was Odin himself. "Odhærir," he said, "which is a god-gift, must come

up to men's earthly dwellings. Go forth, Hugin, go forth, Munin,"

said the Asa, and he also went forth alone, none knowing where he

went, nor how.

So Odin journeyed for a long, long while towards Suttung's Hall,

across the windy, wintry ways of Jötunheim, seeing well before him

the yellow mead as he went, through rocks, and woods, and rivers, and

through night itself, until at last it happened that Odin came into a

meadow upon a summer morning in Giant Land. Nine slaves were mowing

in the meadow, whetting some old rusty scythes which they had,

working heavily, for they were senseless fellows, and the summer day

grew faster upon them than their labour grew to completion. "You seem

heavy-hearted," said Odin to the thralls; and they began to explain

to him how rusty and old their scythes were, and that they had no

whetstone to sharpen them with. Upon this Odin offered to whet their

scythes for them with his whetstone: and no sooner had he done so

than the scythes became so sharp that they could have cut stones as

easily as grass. Instead of mowing, however, the thralls began to

clamour round Odin, beseeching him to give his whetstone to them.

"Give it to me! give it to me: give it to me!" cried one and another;

and all the time Odin stood quietly amongst them, throwing his

whetstone up in the air, and catching it as it fell. Then the thralls

tried if they could catch it, leaning stupidly across one another,

with their scythes in their hands. Was Allfather surprised at what

happened next? He could hardly have been that; but he was sorry when,

looking down as the whetstone fell, he saw all the thralls lying dead

at his feet, killed by each other's sharpened weapons. "This is an

Evil Land," said Odin, as he looked down on the dead thralls, "and I

am a bringer of evil into it."

So he journeyed on till he came to the house of Suttung's brother,

Baugi. Odin asked Baugi to give him a night's lodging, and Baugi,

who knew no more than the thralls had done who this traveller was,

consented, and began to talk to Odin of the trouble he was in. "This

is hay harvest," he said, "as you must have seen, walking here

through the meadows; and I have a mighty field to gather in, but how

to do it puzzles me, because my nine slaves whom I sent out sound and

well this morning, all fell dead about the middle of the day. How

they managed it, I can't imagine, and it puts me out sadly, for

summer days don't last long in Jötunheim." "Well," said Odin, "I'm

not a bad hand at mowing, and I don't mind undertaking to do the work

of nine thralls for you, Baugi, for a certain reward you may give me,

if you will." "What is that?" inquired Baugi, eagerly. "A draught of

that golden mead, Odhærir, which Suttung obtained from the dwarfs,

and which his daughter Gunnlöd keeps for him." "Oh! that," said

Baugi, "isn't so good as my homebrewed for a thirsty mower; but you

shall have it. It is a bargain between us." So Odin worked for Baugi

the whole summer through with the labour of nine instead of with the

labour of one; and when the last field was reaped, and wintry mists

were gathering, the god and the giant began to talk over their

bargain again. "We will come together to Suttung's house," said

Baugi, "and my brother shall give you the draught which you desire so

much." But when the two came to Suttung's house, and asked him for

the mead, Suttung was exceedingly angry, and would not hear a word

about it from either of them. "You don't drink it yourself, brother,"

pleaded Baugi, "although you might do so every day if you liked,

without asking anybody's leave, or doing one stroke of work for it,

whilst this man has toiled night and day for nine months that he

might taste it only once." "Odhærir is for us giants, nevertheless,"

answered Suttung, "and well does my daughter Gunnlöd guard it from

dwarfs and from men, from spectres, from Asyniur, and from Æsir. Have

I not sworn that so it shall be guarded by all the snows of

Jötunheim, and by the stormy waves, and by the yawning chasm of the

abyss." Then Baugi knew that nothing more was to be said, and he

advised Odin to go back with him at once, and drink beer. But Odin

was not to be turned from his purpose so easily. "You promised me a

draught of the gold mead, Baugi," he said, "and I can see it through

the rock in its three treasure jars; sit down by me and look through

the rock till you can see it too." So Odin and Baugi sat down

together, and pierced the rock with their glances all that day until

they had made a small hole in it; and at night, when Suttung was

asleep, and when Gunnlöd was asleep, and whilst the gold mead shone

steadily in the heart of the cave, Odin looked up towards Asgard, and

said,--

"Little get I here by silence:

Of a well-assumed form I will make good use;

For few things fail the wise."

And then this strong wise Asa picked up from the ground the little,

mean, wriggling form of a worm and put it on and crept noiselessly

into the hole which he and Baugi had made,--

"The giant's ways are under me,

The giant's ways are over me,"

said Odin as he wriggled through the stone, but when he had got quite

through to the inner side, to Gunnlöd's room, Odin took his proper

form again.

"I see her upon her golden seat," he said as he looked upon the

sleeping Gunnlöd where she lay, and Odin was surprised to see a

giant-maid so beautiful. Surprised and sorry. "For I must leave her

weeping," he mused. "How shall she not weep, defrauded of her

treasure in an Evil Land." And Odin loved and pitied the beautiful

maiden so much, that he would have returned to Asgard without the

mead had that been possible. Alas for Gunnlöd, it was less possible

than ever since Allfather had seen her. For Gunnlöd awoke in the

light of Odin's glance and trembled, she did not know why, she did

not know at first that he was an Asa, but, when he asked her for her

treasure she could not keep it from him, she could not have kept

anything from him. She rose from her golden couch, her blue eyes

melted into the tenderness of a summer sky, she undid the bars and

bolts and coverings of Odhærir, which she had guarded so faithfully

till then, and knelt before Odin and stretched her hands towards him

and said, "Drink, for I think you are a god."

A draught, a draught, a long, deep draught, and the spirit of the Asa

was shaken through its height and through its depth, and again a

draught of love flowing forth to the outermost, to the abysses, and

one draught again--peace--in rushing, still.

Why are you weeping so, Gunnlöd? Oh! Why do you weep? Did you not

give him your whole treasure, "your fervent love, your whole soul;"

you kept nothing back, and Odhærir is for ever the inheritance of the

gods. The dwarfs sold it for their lives, the giantess lost it of her

love, gods win it for the world.

"It is for the Æsir, it is for men," said Odin. "It is Odin's booty,

it is Odin's gift;" and immediately, in haste to share it, the Asa

spread eagle's wings, and flew far up, away from the barren rock, and

the black, cold halls of Suttung, towards his heavenly home. Alas for

Gunnlöd! she has lost her treasure and her Asa too. How cold the

cavern is now in which she sits! her light is gone out; she is left

alone; she is left weeping upon her golden throne. But Odin soared

upwards--flew on toward Asgard, and the Æsir came crowding upon the

city's jewelled walls to watch his approach. And soon they perceived

that two eagles were flying towards the city, the second pursuing the

first. The pursuing eagle was Suttung, who, as soon as he found that

his mead was gone, and that Odin eagle-wise had escaped his

vengeance, spread also _his_ eagle's wings, very strong and very

swift, in pursuit. Suttung appeared to gain upon Odin. Frigga feared

for her beloved. The Asyniur and the Æsir watched breathlessly. Frost

giants and Storm giants came crowding up from the deeps to see. "Does

Odin return amongst the gods?" they asked, "or will Suttung destroy

him?" It was not possible, however, that the struggle should end in

any way but one. The Divine bird dropped from the height upon his

Hall--the High One's Hall--and then there burst from him such a flood

of song that the widest limits of Æsir Land were overflowed--some

sounds even spilt themselves upon the common earth. "It is Poetry

herself, it is Odin's booty, it is Odin's gift. It is for the Æsir,

it is for the Æsir," said a thousand and a thousand songs. "And for

men," answered Allfather, with his million ringing, changing voices;

"it is for men." "Such as have sufficient wit to make a right use of

it," said Loki. And this was the first discordant note that troubled

Asgard after Odin's return.

* * * * *

In this tale, or rather in this arrangement of tales, most of the

chief gods are named, and one or two of the myths concerning them are

hinted at. The sweet mixture made out of Kvasir's blood, and given to

the giant Suttung to keep, was called, as we have seen, Odhærir. It

was kept in three jars, and though the name of it as a whole was

Odhærir, the portion in the second jar was also called "Sohn," and

that in the third jar "Bohn." Odhærir is mentioned in two of the

_Elder Edda_ Songs, and in the _Younger Edda_ an account is given of

Odin bringing it up to Asgard. Neither of the _Eddas_, it must be

remarked, mentions the banishment of the dwarfs and elves in

connection with Kvasir's death. The golden mead, Odhærir, is supposed

to signify poetry. The first syllable of the name means mind and

feeling. Odhærir, spirit mover. "Sohn" means reconciliation, or the

_offer_ of peace. "Bohn" means the _acceptance_ of peace,--these two

latter names referring to the origin of Kvasir, who was created out

of the peace made between the Æsir and the Vanir.

Simrock thinks that "Kvasir," meaning fermentation, implies the

excitement necessary to poetry; that Odin, labouring for a draught of

the precious mead, suggests that poetry can only be possessed through

labour, and that his receiving it from the beautiful Gunnlöd,

expresses it as the gift and crown of love. Odin drinking it three

times signifies the _intensity_ through which poetry lives,--it is

intoxication. Odin appears to have felt very wise after his three

draughts; for he is made to say--

"Potent songs I learned,

And a draught obtained

Of the precious mead,

Then I began to bear fruit

And to know many things.

Word by word

I sought out words,

Fact by fact

I sought out facts.

Runes I graved,

Very large characters,

Very potent characters."

One of the _Edda_ songs is called the "High One's Lay." So we may

conclude it was inspired by Suttung's mead. One or two of the

strophes are worth quoting, just to show what the lay is like. The

following are selected from different places and have no connection

with one another.

"At eve the day is to be praised,

A sword after it is proved;

Ice after it has passed away,

Beer after it is drunk."

"Cattle die,

Kindred die,

We ourselves also die;

But I know one thing

That never dies--

Judgment on each one dead."

"I was once young,

I was journeying alone,

And lost my way;

Rich I thought myself

When I met another.

Man is the joy of man."

Here is a contrast--

"Two are adversaries;

The tongue is the bane of the head;

Under every cloak

I expect a hand."

"A firmer friend

No man ever gets

Than great sagacity."

"Givers and requiters

Are longest friends."

"A worse provision

No man can carry

Than too much beer-bibbing;

So, good is not, as it is said,

Beer for the sons of men."

"My garments in a field

I gave away

To two wooden men;

Heroes they seemed to be

When they got cloaks."

"Much too early

I came to many places

But too late to others;

The beer was drunk,

Or not ready

The disliked seldom hits the moment."

We often read of Odin disguising himself, sometimes in animal, more

frequently in human form. He wanders about the world, and very

curious stories are told about his adventures. Sometimes he asks his

wife's leave before setting off,--

"Counsel thou me now, Frigg!

As I long to go

An all-wise giant to visit."

And Frigg answers,--

"In safety mayest thou go,

In safety return;

In safety on thy journeyings be;

May thy wit avail thee

When thou, father of men! shalt

Hold converse with the giant."

But Odin was not obliged to take long journeys himself when he wanted

to know what was going on in the world,--he had, as we have seen, two

messengers whom he sent out daily,--the Ravens Hugin and Munin,

thought and memory,--

"Hugin and Munin

Each dawn take their flight

Earth fields over;

I fear me for Hugin

Lest he come not back,

But much more for Munin."

Perhaps because of Munin being memory he was expected to fail first.

Odin looking over into Niflheim, is thus alluded to in an old song.

The god is made to say,--

"I know that I hung

On a wind-rocked tree

Nine whole nights.

Downward I peered,

To runes applied myself,

Wailing learnt them,

Then fell down thence."

The next strophe tells how he got the draught of the precious mead.

In this myth, it seems as if Odin hung upon Yggdrassil. Simrock

mentions a singular little German tale which may possibly have some

connection with it, and has evidently an Eastern origin. "A man," it

says, "in danger of falling into a brook, held fast with one hand to

a shrub whilst his feet rested on a small piece of grass. In this

predicament, he saw two mice (day and night) gnawing at the root of

the shrub, and the grass undermined by four worm heads. Then a

dragon appeared and opened his mouth to swallow him up, whilst an

elephant reached his trunk towards him. At the same time he seized

with eager mouth some honey which dropt from the tree." Simrock says

that the eating of the honey is like people being occupied with

frivolity whilst the world-battle goes on, but may not the story

possibly have a little to do with Odin and Yggdrassil and Odhærir.

We heard before that Odin was connected with Air. We see him here

on his High Throne looking over all worlds, wandering over the

earth, piercing even to the deep, giving his eye to Mimer for

wisdom--consequently having only one eye, one Sun in Heaven--some

suppose that the pledged eye means the setting of the Sun nightly.

Mimer, who guards the well, means the remembrance of the origin of

things which was water--the strange waves that flowed into

Ginnungagap. An odd story is told of Mimer, who was originally a

giant though received by the Æsir, viz., that he was sent as a

hostage to the Vanir, who cut off his head and sent it back to Odin.

The head remained so wise that the father of the gods used to

consult it on all important occasions; as the lay says--

"Odin speaks

With Mim's head."

Heimdall, guardian of the Bridge (whose exact name was "trembling

rest") was perhaps the most important of the Vanir. He is represented

in one old lay as travelling about the world by himself, which is a

sure sign that he was originally a very great god indeed. Upon this

journey he became the father of the three races of men, the Thralls,

the Karls and the Jarls. The way in which these three races are

compared with one another is very curious.

The Thralls are described with "shrivelled skin, knotty knuckles,

thick fingers, hideous faces, curved backs and protruding heels, they

are made to erect fences, manure fields, tend swine, keep goats and

dig turf." The Karls' children are said to be clothed in linen, to be

ruddy headed and have twinkling eyes, and they grow up to "tame oxen,

make ploughs, build houses, make carts and farm;" but the favoured,

useless Jarls, "Light of hair, bright cheeks, eyes piercing as a

serpent's," grow up to "shake the shield, to brandish spears,

"Horses to ride,

Dogs to slip,

Swords to draw,

Swimming to practise."

Heimdall keeps the bridge alike from thunder god and frost giants,

but at Ragnarök, the swarthy god Surtur, who lives on the borders of

Muspellheim, will ride over it and shatter it to pieces. Heimdall's

horn is mentioned,--this is supposed to mean the crescent moon, and

Mimer's drinking horn also means the moon. Later, when the stories of

the gods had dwindled down into weird, unholy legends, and Odin had

sunk into the wild Huntsman, the crescent moon was his horn. One of

Heimdall's names was Irmin, and this means "Shining." The milky way

is called Irmin strasse or Irmin's way, and the wild hunt was

supposed to go over the milky way, which is also called Waldemar's

way in Denmark, and Waldemar is a common name of hunters.

Loki and his children in these myths are evidently the destructive

principle, either physically, or morally, or both. Jörmungand and

Fenrir are much alike. Jörmungand means "the universal Wolf," and of

Fenrir it is said "he goes about revengeful, with open jaws devouring

all things." Hela had originally another side to her character, but

here as Loki's daughter she has only the nature of his other

children.

The myth about Loki finding the half-burnt heart of a woman is said

to be a very young one; and so perhaps it is not worth considering

the meaning of.

The god about whom, next to Odin, most stories are told, is Thor. In

some parts of the north he was a more prominent object of worship

even than Odin, Norway and Iceland being especially devoted to his

service.

* * * * *

Let us now hear how Thor went to Jötunheim.

CHAPTER II.

HOW THOR WENT TO JÖTUNHEIM.

PART I. FROM ASGARD TO UTGARD.

Once on a time, Asa Thor and Loki set out on a journey from Asgard to

Jötunheim. They travelled in Thor's chariot, drawn by two milk-white

goats. It was a somewhat cumbrous iron chariot, and the wheels made a

rumbling noise as it moved, which sometimes startled the ladies of

Asgard, and made them tremble; but Thor liked it, thought the noise

sweeter than any music, and was never so happy as when he was

journeying in it from one place to another.

They travelled all day, and in the evening they came to a

countryman's house. It was a poor, lonely place; but Thor descended

from his chariot, and determined to pass the night there. The

countryman, however, had no food in his house to give these

travellers; and Thor, who liked to feast himself and make every one

feast with him, was obliged to kill his own two goats and serve them

up for supper. He invited the countryman and his wife and children to

sup with him; but before they began to eat he made one request of

them.

"Do not, on any account," he said, "break or throw away any of the

bones of the goats you are going to eat for supper."

"I wonder why," said the peasant's son, Thialfi, to his sister Roska.

Roska could not think of any reason, and by-and-bye Thialfi happened

to have a very nice little bone given him with some marrow in it.

"Certainly there can be no harm in my breaking just this one," he

said to himself; "it would be such a pity to lose the marrow;" and as

Asa Thor's head was turned another way, he slyly broke the bone in

two, sucked the marrow, and then threw the pieces into the goats'

skins, where Thor had desired that all the bones might be placed. I

do not know whether Thialfi was uneasy during the night about what he

had done; but in the morning he found out the reason of Asa Thor's

command, and received a lesson on "wondering why," which he never

forgot all his life after.

As soon as Asa Thor rose in the morning he took his hammer, Miölnir,

in his hand, and held it over the goat-skins as they lay on the

floor, whispering runes the while. They were dead skins with dry

bones on them when he began to speak; but as he said the last word,

Thialfi, who was looking curiously on, saw two live goats spring up

and walk towards the chariot, as fresh and well as when they brought

the chariot up to the door Thialfi hoped. But no; one of the goats

limped a little with his hind leg, and Asa Thor saw it. His brow grew

dark as he looked, and for a minute Thialfi thought he would run far,

far into the forest, and never come back again; but one look more at

Asa Thor's face, angry as it was, made him change his mind. He

thought of a better thing to do than running away. He came forward,

threw himself at the Asa's feet, and, confessing what he had done,

begged pardon for his disobedience. Thor listened, and the displeased

look passed away from his face.

"You have done wrong, Thialfi," he said, raising him up; "but as you

have confessed your fault so bravely, instead of punishing you, I

will take you with me on my journey, and teach you myself the lesson

of obedience to the Æsir which is, I see, wanted."

Roska chose to go with her brother, and from that day Thor had two

faithful servants, who followed him wherever he went.

The chariot and goats were now left behind: but, with Loki and his

two new followers, Thor journeyed on to the end of Manheim, over the

sea, and then on, on, on in the strange, barren, misty land of

Jötunheim, Sometimes they crossed great mountains; sometimes they had

to make their way among torn and rugged rocks, which often, through

the mist, appeared to them to wear the forms of men, and once for a

whole day they traversed a thick and tangled forest. In the evening

of that day, being very much tired, they saw with pleasure that they

had come upon a spacious hall, of which the door, as broad as the

house itself, stood wide open.

"Here we may very comfortably lodge for the night," said Thor; and

they went in and looked about them.

The house appeared to be perfectly empty; there was a wide hall, and

five smaller rooms opening into it. They were, however, too tired to

examine it carefully, and as no inhabitants made their appearance,

they ate their supper in the hall, and lay down to sleep. But they

had not rested long before they were disturbed by strange noises,

groanings, mutterings, and snortings, louder than any animal that

they had ever seen in their lives could make. By-and-bye the house

began to shake from side to side, and it seemed as if the very earth

trembled. Thor sprang up in haste, and ran to the open door; but,

though he looked earnestly into the starlit forest, there was no

enemy to be seen anywhere. Loki and Thialfi, after groping about for

a time, found a sheltered chamber to the right, where they thought

they could finish their night's rest in safety; but Thor, with

Miölnir in his hand, watched at the door of the house all night. As

soon as the day dawned he went out into the forest, and there,

stretched on the ground close by the house, he saw a strange,

uncouth, gigantic shape of a man, out of whose nostrils came a breath

which swayed the trees to their very tops. There was no need to

wonder any longer what the disturbing noises had been. Thor

fearlessly walked up to this strange monster to have a better look at

him; but at the sound of his footsteps the giant-shape rose slowly,

stood up an immense height, and looked down upon Thor with two great

misty eyes, like blue mountain-lakes.

[Illustration: GIANT SKRYMIR AND THOR.]

"Who are you?" said Thor, standing on tiptoe, and stretching his neck

to look up; "and why do you make such a noise as to prevent your

neighbours from sleeping?"

"My name is Skrymir," said the giant sternly; "I need not ask yours.

You are the little Asa Thor of Asgard; but pray, now, what have you

done with my glove?"

As he spoke he stooped down, and picked up the hall where Thor and

his companions had passed the night, and which, in truth, was

nothing more than his glove, the room where Loki and Thialfi had

slept being the thumb.

Thor rubbed his eyes, and felt as if he must be dreaming. Rousing

himself, however, he raised Miölnir in his hand, and, trying to keep

his eyes fixed on the giant's face, which seemed to be always

changing, he said, "It is time that you should know, Skrymir, that I

am come to Jötunheim to fight and conquer such evil giants as you

are, and, little as you think me, I am ready to try my strength

against yours."

"Try it, then," said the giant.

And Thor, without another word, threw Miölnir at his head.

"Ah! Ah!" said the giant; "did a leaf touch me?"

Again Thor seized Miölnir, which always returned to his hand, however

far he cast it from him, and threw it with all his force.

The giant put up his hand to his forehead. "I think," he said, "that

an acorn must have fallen on my head."

A third time Thor struck a blow, the heaviest that ever fell from

the hand of an Asa; but this time the giant laughed out loud.

"There is surely a bird on that tree," he said, "who has let a

feather fall on my face."

Then, without taking any further notice of Thor, he swung an immense

wallet over his shoulder, and, turning his back upon him, struck into

a path that led from the forest. When he had gone a little way he

looked round, his immense face appearing less like a human

countenance than some strange, uncouthly-shaped stone toppling on a

mountain precipice.

"Ving-Thor,"[3] he said, "let me give you a piece of good advice

before I go. When you get to Utgard don't make much of yourself. You

think me a tall man, but you have taller still to see; and you

yourself are a very little mannikin. Turn back home whence you came,

and be satisfied to have learned something of yourself by your

journey to Jötunheim."

[3] Ving-Thor--Winged-Thor.

"Mannikin or not, _that_ will I never do," shouted Asa Thor after the

giant. "We will meet again, and something more will we learn, or

teach each other."

The giant, however, did not turn back to answer, and Thor and his

companions, after looking for some time after him, resumed their

journey. Before the sun was quite high in the heavens they came out

of the forest, and at noon they found themselves on a vast barren

plain, where stood a great city, whose walls of dark, rough stone

were so high, that Thor had to bend his head quite far back to see

the top of them. When they approached the entrance of this city they

found that the gates were closed and barred; but the space between

the bars was so large that Thor passed through easily, and his

companions followed him. The streets of the city were gloomy and

still. They walked on for some time without meeting any one; but at

length they came to a very high building, of which the gates stood

open.

"Let us go in and see what is going on here," said Thor; and they

went.

After crossing the threshold they found themselves in an immense

banqueting hall. A table stretched from one end to the other of it;

stone thrones stood round the table, and on every throne sat a giant,

each one, as Thor glanced round, appearing more grim, and cold, and

stony than the rest. One among them sat on a raised seat, and

appeared to be the chief; so to him Thor approached and paid his

greetings.

The giant chief just glanced at him, and, without rising, said, in a

somewhat careless manner, "It is, I think, a foolish custom to tease

tired travellers with questions about their journey. I know without

asking that you, little fellow, are Asa Thor. Perhaps, however, you

may be in reality taller than you appear; and as it is a rule here

that no one shall sit down to table till he has performed some

wonderful feat, let us hear what you and your followers are famed

for, and in what way you choose to prove yourselves worthy to sit

down in the company of giants."

At this speech, Loki, who had entered the hall cautiously behind

Thor, pushed himself forward.

"The feat for which I am most famed," he said, "is eating, and it is

one which I am just now inclined to perform with right good will. Put

food before me, and let me see if any of your followers can despatch

it as quickly as I can."

"The feat you speak of is one by no means to be despised," said the

King, "and there is one here who would be glad to try his powers

against yours. Let Logi," he said to one of his followers, "be

summoned to the hall."

At this, a tall, thin, yellow-faced man approached, and a large

trough of meat having been placed in the middle of the hall, Loki sat

to work at one end, and Logi at the other, and they began to eat. I

hope _I_ shall never see any one eat as they ate; but the giants all

turned their slow-moving eyes to watch them, and in a few minutes

they met in the middle of the trough. It seemed, at first, as if they

had both eaten exactly the same quantity; but, when the thing came to

be examined into, it was found that Loki had, indeed, eaten up all

the meat, but that Logi had also eaten the bones and the trough. Then

the giants nodded their huge heads, and determined that Loki was

conquered. The King now turned to Thialfi, and asked what he could

do.

"I was thought swift of foot among the youth of my own country,"

answered Thialfi; "and I will, if you please, try to run a race with

any one here."

"You have chosen a noble sport, indeed," said the King; "but you must

be a good runner if you could beat him with whom I shall match you."

Then he called a slender lad, Hugi by name, and the whole company

left the hall, and, going out by an opposite gate to that by which

Thor had entered, they came out to an open space, which made a noble

race-ground. There the goal was fixed, and Thialfi and Hugi started

off together.

Thialfi ran fast--fast as the reindeer which hears the wolves howling

behind; but Hugi ran so much faster that, passing the goal, he turned

round, and met Thialfi half-way in the course.

"Try again, Thialfi," cried the King; and Thialfi, once more taking

his place, flew along the course with feet scarcely touching the

ground--swiftly as an eagle when, from his mountain-crag, he swoops

on his prey in the valley; but with all his running he was still a

good bow-shot from the goal when Hugi reached it.

"You are certainly a good runner," said the King; "but if you mean to

win you must do a little better still than this; but perhaps you wish

to surprise us all the more this third time."

The third time, however, Thialfi was wearied, and though he did his

best, Hugi, having reached the goal, turned and met him not far from

the starting-point.

The giants again looked at each other, and declared that there was no

need of further trial, for that Thialfi was conquered.

It was now Asa Thor's turn, and all the company looked eagerly at

him, while the Utgard King asked by what wonderful feat he chose to

distinguish himself.

"I will try a drinking-match with any of you," Thor said, shortly;

for, to tell the truth, he cared not to perform anything very worthy

in the company in which he found himself.

King Utgard appeared pleased with this choice, and when the giants

had resumed their seats in the hall, he ordered one of his servants

to bring in his drinking-cup, called the "cup of penance," which it

was his custom to make his guests drain at a draught, if they had

broken any of the ancient rules of the society.

"There!" he said, handing it to Thor, "we call it well drunk if a

person empties it at a single draught. Some, indeed, take two to it;

but the very puniest can manage it in three."

Thor looked into the cup; it appeared to him long, but not so very

large after all, and being thirsty he put it to his lips, and thought

to make short work of it, and empty it at one good, hearty pull. He

drank, and put the cup down again; but, instead of being empty, it

was now just so full that it could be moved without danger of

spilling.

"Ha! ha! You are keeping all your strength for the second pull I

see," said Utgard, looking in. Without answering, Thor lifted the cup

again, and drank with all his might till his breath failed; but, when

he put down the cup, the liquor had only sunk down a little from the

brim.

"If you mean to take three draughts to it," said Utgard, "you are

really leaving yourself a very unfair share for the last time. Look

to yourself, Ving-Thor; for, if you do not acquit yourself better in

other feats, we shall not think so much of you here as they say the

Æsir do in Asgard."

At this speech Thor felt angry, and, seizing the cup again, he drank

a third time, deeper and longer than he had yet done; but, when he

looked into the cup, he saw that a very small part only of its

contents had disappeared. Wearied and disappointed he put the cup

down, and said he would try no more to empty it.

"It is pretty plain," said the King, looking round on the company,

"that Asa Thor is by no means the kind of man we always supposed him

to be."

"Nay," said Thor, "I am willing to try another feat, and you

yourselves shall choose what it shall be."

"Well," said the King, "there is a game at which our children are

used to play. A short time ago I dare not have named it to Asa Thor;

but now I am curious to see how he will acquit himself in it. It is

merely to lift my cat from the ground--a childish amusement truly."

As he spoke a large, grey cat sprang into the hall, and Thor,

stooping forward, put his hand under it to lift it up. He tried

gently at first; but by degrees he put forth all his strength,

tugging and straining as he had never done before; but the utmost he

could do was to raise one of the cat's paws a little way from the

ground.

"It is just as I thought," said King Utgard, looking round with a

smile; "but we all are willing to allow that the cat _is_ large, and

Thor but a little fellow."

"Little as you think me," cried Thor, "who is there who will dare to

wrestle with me in my anger?"

"In truth," said the King, "I don't think there is any one here who

would choose to wrestle with you; but, if wrestle you must, I will

call in that old crone Elli. She has, in her time, laid low many a

better man than Asa Thor has shown himself to be."

The crone came. She was old, withered, and toothless, and Thor shrank

from the thought of wrestling with her; but he had no choice. She

threw her arms round him, and drew him towards the ground, and the

harder he tried to free himself, the tighter grew her grasp. They

struggled long. Thor strove bravely, but a strange feeling of

weakness and weariness came over him, and at length he tottered and

fell down on one knee before her. At this sight all the giants

laughed aloud, and Utgard coming up, desired the old woman to leave

the hall, and proclaimed that the trials were over. No one of his

followers would _now_ contend with Asa Thor, he said, and night was

approaching. He then invited Thor and his companions to sit down at

the table, and spend the night with him as his guests. Thor, though

feeling somewhat perplexed and mortified, accepted his invitation

courteously, and showed, by his agreeable behaviour during the

evening, that he knew how to bear being conquered with a good grace.

In the morning, when Thor and his companions were leaving the city,

the King himself accompanied them without the gates; and Thor,

looking steadily at him when he turned to bid him farewell,

perceived, for the first time, that he was the very same Giant

Skrymir with whom he had met in the forest.

"Come, now, Asa Thor," said the giant with a strange sort of smile on

his face, "tell me truly, before you go, how you think your journey

has turned out, and whether or not I was right in saying that you

would meet with better men than yourself in Jötunheim."

"I confess freely," answered Asa Thor, looking up without any false

shame on his face, "that I have acquitted myself but humbly, and it

grieves me; for I know that in Jötunheim henceforward it will be said

that I am a man of little worth."

"By my troth! no," cried the giant, heartily. "Never should you have

come into my city if I had known what a mighty man of valour you

really are; and now that you are safely out of it, I will, for once,

tell the truth to you, Thor. All this time I have been deceiving you

by my enchantments. When you met me in the forest, and hurled

Miölnir at my head, I should have been crushed by the weight of your

blows had I not skilfully placed a mountain between myself and you,

on which the strokes of your hammer fell, and where you cleft three

deep ravines, which shall henceforth become verdant valleys. In the

same manner I deceived you about the contests in which you engaged

last night. When Loki and Logi sat down before the trough, Loki,

indeed, eat like hunger itself; but Logi is fire, who, with eager,

consuming tongue, licked up both bones and trough. Thialfi is the

swiftest of mortal runners; but the slender lad, Hugi, was my

thought; and what speed can ever equal his? So it was in your own

trials. When you took such deep draughts from the horn, you little

knew what a wonderful feat you were performing. The other end of that

horn reached the ocean, and when you come to the shore you will see

how far its waters have fallen away, and how much the deep sea itself

has been diminished by your draught. Hereafter, men watching the

going out of the tide will call it the ebb, or draught of Thor.

Scarcely less wonderful was the prowess you displayed in the second

trial. What appeared to you to be a cat, was, in reality, the Midgard

serpent, which encircles the world. When we saw you succeed in moving

it we trembled lest the very foundations of earth and sea should be

shaken by your strength. Nor need you be ashamed of having been

overthrown by the old woman Elli, for she is old age; and there never

has, and never will be, one whom she has not the power to lay low. We

must now part, and you had better not come here again, or attempt

anything further against my city; for I shall always defend it by

fresh enchantments, and you will never be able to do anything against

me."

At these words Thor raised Miölnir, and was about to challenge the

giant to a fresh trial of strength; but, before he could speak,

Utgard vanished from his sight; and, turning round to look for the

city, he found that it, too, had disappeared, and that he was

standing alone on a smooth, green, empty plain.

"What a fool I have been," said Asa Thor, aloud, "to allow myself to

be deceived by a mountain giant!"

"Ah," answered a voice from above, "I told you, you would learn to

know yourself better by your journey to Jötunheim. It is the great

use of travelling."

Thor turned quickly round again, thinking to see Skrymir behind him;

but, after looking on every side, he could perceive nothing, but that

a high, cloud-capped mountain, which he had noticed on the horizon,

appeared to have advanced to the edge of the plain.

PART II. THE SERPENT AND THE KETTLE.

Thor turned away from Giant-land, and on the road homeward he passed

through the Sea-King's dominions. There he found that Ægir the Old

was giving a banquet to all the Æsir in his wide coral-caves. At a

little distance Thor stood still to listen and to look. It was a fair

sight: cave within cave stretched out before him decked with choicest

shells, whilst far inward lay the banqueting-hall, lighted with

shining gold; white and red coral-pillars stood at uneven distances;

the bright-browed Æsir reclined at the board on soft water couches;

Ægir's daughters--the fair-haired waves--murmured sweet music as they

waited on their guests; and little baby-ripples ran about laughing

in all the corners. Thor walked through the caves and entered the

hall. As he did so Odin looked up from his place at Ægir's right

hand, and said,--

"Good evening, son Thor; how has it fared with you in Jötunheim?"

Thor's face grew a little cloudy at this question, and he only

answered,--

"Not as it ought to have done, father." Then he placed himself

amongst Ægir's guests.

"In my dominions," said King Ægir, looking all round, "an

extraordinary thing has happened."

"And what may that be, brother?" asked Niörd.

"From the shores of Jötunheim," answered Ægir, "the sea has run back

a quarter of a mile, drawing itself away as if a giant were drinking

it in."

"Is that all you have got to say, father?" said a tall Wave, as she

swept her hair over the Sea-King's shoulder, and peeped up from

behind him; "is that all you know of the wonders which are going on

in your deep home? Listen."

Then Ægir bent forward on his seat; the Æsir all ceased speaking,

and drew in their breath; the waves raised their arched necks, and

were still, listening. From a great way off came the sound of a

sullen swell.

"Who is that speaking?" asked Odin.

"That is Jörmungand speaking," said Thor.

"And what does he say, Thor?"

"He says that I could not conquer him."

"Pass round the foaming mead," cried Ægir, who saw that it was time

to turn the conversation.

But alas! Ægir's mead-kettle was so small, that before it had gone

half down the table it stood empty before Tyr.

"There is a giant called Hymir," remarked Tyr, "who lives far over

the stormy waves to eastward at the end of heaven."

The Æsir all looked up.

"He has a kettle," Tyr went on to say, "which is a mile deep, and

which would certainly hold mead enough for all this company."

"If Hymir would lend it to us," said Ægir, "we could finish our

supper; but who would go to the end of heaven to borrow a kettle?"

Then Thor rose from the table, and began to tighten round him his

belt of power; he put on his iron gloves, and took Miölnir in his

hand.

"What! off again to Giant-land, Ving-Thor?" cried Ægir.

"Didn't you say you wanted Mile-deep?" said Thor. "I am going to

borrow it of Hymir for you. Will you come with me, Tyr?"

Tyr sprang up joyfully, and the two brothers started on their

journey. When they arrived at Hymir's dwelling, which was a

roughly-hewn cavern on the shore of a frozen sea, the first person

they met was a wonderful giantess with nine hundred heads, in which

glittered fiery eyes, and which grew out from all parts of her body,

so that it was impossible to tell whether she was walking upon her

head or her heels. As Thor and Tyr were looking at her trying to

discover this, a woman came out of the giant's home quite as lovely

as the giantess was hideous. She greeted them on the threshold. Her

golden hair fell thick upon her shoulders; her mild eyes shone upon

them; and with words of welcome she held out her hands and led them

into the cavern. There she offered them meat and drink, and bade them

rest until her husband, Hymir, should come home. As the darkness came

on, however, and the time of his expected return drew near, she

became silent and anxious; and at last she said, "I am very much

afraid that my husband will be angry if he sees strangers here when

he comes in. Take my advice, now, Asa Thor and Asa Tyr, and hide

behind one of these pillars in the rock. My lord, I assure you, is

surly sometimes, and not nearly so hospitable as I could wish."

"We are not accustomed to hide ourselves," remarked Thor.

"But you shall come forth when I call you," answered the woman.

So the Æsir did as she desired. By-and-bye they heard heavy footsteps

far off, over the frozen sea, coming nearer and nearer every moment.

The distant icebergs resounded, and at last Hymir burst open the door

of his cavern, and stalked angrily in. He had been unsuccessful that

day in the chase, his hands were frost-bitten, and a "hard-frozen

wood stood upon his cheek."

As soon as the fair-browed woman saw what mood he was in she went

gently towards him, placed her hand in his, and told him of the

arrival of the guests; then, with a sweet smile and voice, she

entreated him to receive the strangers kindly, and entertain them

hospitably.

Hymir made no answer; but, at one glance of his eye towards the place

where the Æsir were hidden, the pillar burst asunder, and the

cross-beam which it supported fell with a crash to the ground. Eight

ponderous kettles had been hanging on the beam, and all but one were

shivered to atoms.

Thor and Tyr then stepped forth into the middle of the hall, and

Hymir received them civilly, after which he turned his attention to

supper; and, having cooked three whole oxen, he invited the Æsir to

eat with him. Thor fell to work with great relish, and when he had

eaten the whole of one ox, prepared to cut a slice out of another.

"You eat a great deal," said Hymir, sulkily, but Thor was still very

hungry, and went on with his supper until he had eaten two entire

oxen. Then said Hymir, "Another night, Ving-Thor, you must provide

your own supper; for I can't undertake to keep so expensive a guest."

Accordingly, early the next morning, Hymir prepared to go out

fishing, and offered Thor a place in his boat. On their way to the

shore they passed a herd of oxen feeding.

"Have you provided a bait for me?" said Thor to the giant.

"You must get one for yourself," answered Hymir, surlily.

So Thor was obliged to cut off the head of one of the oxen for a

bait.

"You'll never be able to carry _that_ head," said Hymir; for, in

truth, the ox to which it had belonged was an enormous animal, called

"Heaven Breaking."

But Thor made nothing of the head, slung it over his shoulder, and

carried it down to the boat. As they got under weigh, Thor and Hymir

each took an oar; but Thor pulled so fast, and with such mighty

strokes, that the giant was obliged to stop for breath, and beg that

they might go no further.

"We have already reached the spot," he said, "where I always catch

the finest whales."

"But I want to go further out to sea," said Thor.

"That will be dangerous, Ving-Thor," said Hymir; "for if we row any

further we shall come to the waters under which Jörmungand lies."

Thor laughed, and rowed on. At last he stopped, baited his hook with

the ox's head, and cast the line out into the sea, whilst Hymir leant

over the other side of the boat, and caught two whales.

Now, when the great Jörmungand smelt Thor's bait he opened wide his

monstrous jaws, and eagerly sucked in both head, and hook, and line;

but no sooner did he feel the pain than he struggled so fiercely, and

plunged so wildly, that Thor's hands were in an instant dashed

against the sides of the boat. Still Thor did not lose his hold, but

went on pulling with such wondrous force that his feet burst through

the boat, and rested on the slippery rocks beneath. At last the

venomous monster's mountain-high head was hauled above the waves, and

then, indeed, it was a dreadful sight to see Thor, in all the power

of his god-like strength, casting his fiery looks on the serpent, and

the serpent glaring upon him, and spitting forth poisoned venom. Even

Hymir's sun-burnt cheek changed colour as he beheld beneath his feet

the sinking boat, and at his side the deadliest monster of the deep.

At last, in the wildness of his fear, he rushed before Thor, and cut

his line in sunder. Immediately the serpent's head began to sink; but

Thor hurled Miölnir with fearful force after it into the waters.

Then did the rocks burst; it thundered through the caverns; old

mother earth all shrank; even the fishes sought the bottom of the

ocean; but the serpent sank back, with a long, dull sound, beneath

the waves, a deep wound in his head, and smothered vengeance in his

heart.

Ill at ease and silent, Hymir then turned to go home, and Thor

followed him, carrying boat and oars, and everything else, on his

shoulders. Now, every fresh sight of Thor increased the giant's envy

and rage; for he could not bear to think that he had shown so little

courage before his brave guest, and, besides, losing his boat and

getting so desperately wet in his feet by wading home through the

sea, did not by any means improve his temper. When they got home,

therefore, and were supping together, he began jeering and taunting

Thor.

"No doubt, Asa Thor," he said, "you think yourself a good rower and a

fine fisher, though you did not catch anything to-day; but can you

break that drinking-cup before you, do you think?"

Thor seized the cup, and dashed it against an upright stone. But, lo!

the stone was shattered in pieces, and the cup unbroken. Again, with

greater strength, he hurled the cup against the pillars in the rock:

it was still without a crack.

Now, it happened that the beautiful woman was sitting spinning at her

wheel just behind where Thor was standing. From time to time she

chanted snatches of old runes and sagas in soft tones; and now, when

Thor stood astonished that the cup was not broken, the woman's voice

fell on his ear, singing low the following words:--

"Hard the pillar, hard the stone,

Harder yet the giant's bone.

Stones shall break and pillars fall;

Hymir's forehead breaks them all."

Then Thor once more took the cup, and hurled it against the giant's

forehead. The cup was this time shivered to pieces; but Hymir himself

was unhurt, and cried out, "Well done at last, Ving-Thor; but can you

carry that mile-deep kettle out of my hall, think you?"

Tyr tried to lift it, and could not even raise the handle.

Then Thor grasped it by the rim, and, as he did so, his feet pressed

through the floor. With a mighty effort he lifted it; he placed it on

his head, while the rings rang at his feet; and so in triumph he bore

off the kettle, and set out again for Ægir's Hall.

After journeying a little way he chanced to look round, and then he

saw that a host of many-headed giants, with Hymir for their leader,

were thronging after him. From every cavern, and iceberg, and jagged

peak some hideous monster grinned and leered as a great wild beast

waiting for his prey.

"Treachery!" cried Thor, as he raised Miölnir above his head, and

hurled it three times among the giants.

In an instant they stood stiff, and cold, and dead, in rugged groups

along the shore; one with his arm raised; another with his head

stretched out; some upright, some crouching; each in the position he

had last assumed. And there still they stand, petrified by ages into

giant rocks; and, still pointing their stony fingers at each other,

they tell the mighty tale of Thor's achievements, and the wondrous

story of their fate.

"Pass round the foaming mead," cried King Ægir, as Thor placed

"Mile-deep" on the table; and this time it happened that there was

enough for every one.

* * * * *

Thor, as his name implies, was the thunder god; his realm was called

Thrudvang, which is said to mean the "Region of Fortitude." Of his

hall, Bilskirnir (storm-serene), Odin says, "Five hundred floors, and

forty eke, has Bilskirnir with its windings. Of all the roofed

houses that I know is my son's the greatest." His hammer, Miölnir,

"To pound, or grind,"--Megingjardir, his belt of prowess--his goats,

whose names signify "To crack, grind, gnash" and "race at

intervals"--his attendant Thialfi, the swift falling thunder shower,

all help to picture him in this character; but he ought to be

understood, also, in the larger sense of a god of cultivation and the

order of nature, in opposition to the whole tribe of the Hrimthursar,

frost-giants, mountain-giants, fog-enchantments, and the like sterile

portions and retarding forces of the physical world. The principle of

combat in the physical world, Thor appears also as the chief hero-god

and warrior; his victories are moral as well as physical--his life

was unceasing warfare.

In the _Edda_ account of Thor going to Utgard, the giant-king whom he

finds there is called Utgard-_Loki_; and it is to be observed that

Loki, who, we saw, had his own root in fire, is in Utgard opposed to

Logi who is also fire, so that in this myth Loki stands in opposition

to two beings nearly akin to himself. This may be explained as

follows. Utgard, outer-world, or under-world, means outside of both

the human and godly regions, and reminds us of the chaotic,

elementary powers. Utgard-Loki, or out-worldly-Loki, represents

outside of human world in its evil aspect--the destructive apart from

the formative principle. Connected with him appears elementary fire

(Logi), and Loki is opposed to the latter because at the time this

myth was conceived he had come to mean evil _in_ the world rather

than that elementary double-natured fire out of which the idea of his

evil had originally crept. This view of Utgard, viz., its connection

with the chaotic powers, explains the apparent defeats of Thor during

his visit there, for Thor is a deity of the formed universe, he can

subdue _that_ to his will, not the first double-natured elements out

of which it was built up.

How naturally would the dark frozen land and misty mountain shapes of

the north, suggest to the ancient song singers these ideas concerning

outworldly and inworldly giants and wild unfathomable powers and

enchanted combatants.

It must be confessed that Asa Thor does not always appear in the

favourable light in which the tales given here represent him. There

are one or two very uncomfortable stories about him, bringing out

those dark traits of craft and cruelty which, as we saw before, so

often stained the bright shields of northern warriors. In particular,

there is a story of his losing his hammer and going to Jötunheim to

recover it, disguised as Freyja. When his craft had succeeded, and he

felt the hammer in his grasp again, "Loud laughed," says the lay,

"the fierce hearted one's soul in his breast." After which he slew,

first the giant who had robbed him, then _all_ the giant's race.

Perhaps, even so far as that we could have forgiven him, but--the

giant, it is said, had "a luckless sister, an aged sister," and the

hero-god must need slay her too. "Blows she got, a hammer's stroke,"

and "so," ends the lay, "did Odin's son get his hammer back,"

apparently well satisfied with the whole performance. But are the

Warrior-god's descendants so very different from himself--the giant's

sister, the aged, luckless sister, who does not seem as if she could

do anybody much harm, is she not apt even now to fall beneath the

vengeful hammers of our modern Thors, remorselessly stricken down

after the real battle has been fought and won?

* * * * *

From the fierce thunder deity we turn to Njord's bright children,

Frey and Freyja, "Beauteous and mighty."

CHAPTER III.

FREY.

PART I. ON TIPTOE IN AIR THRONE.

I told you, some time ago, how Van Frey went away into Alfheim with

the light elves, of whom Odin made him king and schoolmaster.

You have heard what Frey was like, and the kind of lessons he

promised to teach his pupils, so you can imagine what pleasant times

they had of it in Alfheim.

Wherever Frey came there was summer and sunshine. Flowers sprang up

under his footsteps, and bright-winged insects, like flying flowers,

hovered round his head. His warm breath ripened the fruit on the

trees, and gave a bright yellow colour to the corn, and purple bloom

to the grapes, as he passed through fields and vineyards.

When he rode along in his car, drawn by the stately boar, Golden

Bristles, soft winds blew before him, filling the air with fragrance,

and spreading abroad the news, "Van Frey is coming!" and every

half-closed flower burst into perfect beauty, and forest, and field,

and hill, flushed their richest colours to greet his presence.

Under Frey's care and instruction the pretty little light elves

forgot their idle ways, and learned all the pleasant tasks he had

promised to teach them. It was the prettiest possible sight to see

them in the evening filling their tiny buckets, and running about

among the woods and meadows to hang the dew-drops deftly on the

slender tips of the grass-blades, or to drop them into the

half-closed cups of the sleepy flowers. When this last of their day's

tasks was over they used to cluster round their summer-king, like

bees about the queen, while he told them stories about the wars

between the Æsir and the giants, or of the old time when he lived

alone with his father Niörd, in Noatun, and listened to the waves

singing songs of far distant lands. So pleasantly did they spend

their time in Alfheim.

But in the midst of all this work and play Frey had a wish in his

mind, of which he could not help often talking to his clear-minded

messenger and friend Skirnir. "I have seen many things," he used to

say, "and travelled through many lands; but to see all the world at

once, as Asa Odin does from Air Throne, _that_ must be a splendid

sight."

"Only Father Odin may sit on Air Throne," Skirnir would say; and it

seemed to Frey that this answer was not so much to the purpose as his

friend's sayings generally were.

At length, one very clear summer evening, when Odin was feasting with

the other Æsir in Valhalla, Frey could restrain his curiosity no

longer. He left Alfheim, where all the little elves were fast asleep,

and, without asking any one's advice, climbed into Air Throne, and

stood on tiptoe in Odin's very seat. It was a clear evening, and I

had, perhaps, better not even try to tell you what Frey saw.

He looked first all round him over Manheim, where the rosy light of

the set sun still lingered, and where men, and birds, and flowers

were gathering themselves up for their night's repose; then he

glanced towards the heavenly hills where Bifröst rested, and then

towards the shadowy land which deepened down into Niflheim. At length

he turned his eyes northward to the misty land of Jötunheim. There

the shades of evening had already fallen; but from his high place

Frey could still see distinct shapes moving about through the gloom.

Strange and monstrous shapes they were, and Frey stood a little

higher, on tiptoe, that he might look further after them. In this

position he could just descry a tall house standing on a hill in the

very middle of Jötunheim. While he looked at it a maiden came and

lifted up her arms to undo the latch of the door. It was dusk in

Jötunheim; but when this maiden lifted up her white arms, such a

dazzling reflection came from them, that Jötunheim, and the sky, and

all the sea were flooded with clear light. For a moment everything

could be distinctly seen; but Frey saw nothing but the face of the

maiden with the uplifted arms; and when she had entered the house and

shut the door after her, and darkness fell again on earth, and sky,

and sea,--darkness fell, too, upon Frey's heart.

PART II. THE GIFT.

The next morning, when the little elves awoke up with the dawn, and

came thronging round their king to receive his commands, they were

surprised to see that he had changed since they last saw him.

"He has grown up in the night," they whispered one to another

sorrowfully.

And in truth he was no longer so fit a teacher and playfellow for the

merry little people as he had been a few hours before.

It was to no purpose that the sweet winds blew, and the flowers

opened, when Frey came forth from his chamber. A bright white light

still danced before him, and nothing now seemed to him worth looking

at. That evening when the sun had set, and work was over, there were

no stories for the light elves.

"Be still," Frey said, when they pressed round, "If you will be still

and listen, there are stories enough to be heard better than mine."

I do not know whether the elves heard anything; but to Frey it seemed

that flowers, and birds, and winds, and the whispering rivers, united

that day in singing one song, which he never wearied of hearing.

"We are fair," they said; "but there is nothing in the whole world so

fair as Gerda, the giant-maiden whom you saw last night in

Jötunheim."

"Frey has dew-drops in his eyes," the little elves said to each other

in whispers as they sat round looking up at him, and they felt very

much surprised; for only to men and the Æsir is it permitted to be

sorrowful and weep.

Soon, however, wiser people noticed the change that had come over the

summer king, and his good-natured father, Niörd, sent Skirnir one

day into Alfheim to inquire into the cause of Frey's sorrow.

He found him walking alone in a shady place, and Frey was glad enough

to tell his trouble to his wise friend.

When he had related the whole story, he said,--

"And now you will see that there is no use in asking me to be merry

as I used to be; for how can I ever be happy in Alfheim, and enjoy

the summer and sunshine, while my dear Gerd, whom I love, is living

in a dark, cold land, among cruel giants?"

"If she be really as beautiful and beloved as you say," answered

Skirnir, "she must be sadly out of place in Jötunheim. Why do not you

ask her to be your wife, and live with you in Alfheim?"

"That would I only too gladly do," answered Frey; "but if I were to

leave Alfheim only for a few hours, the cruel giant, Ryme,[4] would

rush in to take my place; all the labours of the year would be undone

in a night, and the poor, toiling men, who are watching for the

harvest, would wake some morning to find their corn-fields and

orchards buried in snow."

[4] Ryme--the Frost Giant.

"Well," said Skirnir, thoughtfully, "I am neither so strong nor so

beautiful as you, Frey; but, if you will give me the sword that hangs

by your side, I will undertake the journey to Jötunheim; and I will

speak in such a way of you, and of Alfheim, to the lovely Gerd, that

she will gladly leave her land and the house of her giant-father to

come to you."

Now, Frey's sword was a gift, and he knew well enough that he ought

not to part with it, or trust it in any hands but his own; and yet

how could he expect Skirnir to risk all the dangers of Jötunheim for

any less recompense than an enchanted sword? and what other hope had

he of ever seeing his dear Gerda again?

He did not allow himself a moment to think of the choice he was

making. He unbuckled his sword from his side and put it into

Skirnir's hands; and then he turned rather pettishly away, and threw

himself down on a mossy bank under a tree.

"You will be many days in travelling to Jötunheim," he said, "and

all that time I shall be miserable."

Skirnir was too sensible to think this speech worth answering. He

took a hasty farewell of Frey, and prepared to set off on his

journey; but, before he left the hill, he chanced to see the

reflection of Frey's face in a little pool of water that lay near. In

spite of its sorrowful expression, it was as beautiful as the woods

are in full summer, and a clever thought came into Skirnir's mind. He

stooped down, without Frey's seeing him, and, with cunning touch,

stole the picture out of the water; then he fastened it up carefully

in his silver drinking-horn, and, hiding it in his mantle, he mounted

his horse and rode towards Jötunheim, secure of succeeding in his

mission, since he carried a matchless sword to conquer the giant, and

a matchless picture to win the maiden.

PART III. FAIREST GERD.

I told you that the house of Gymir, Gerda's father, stood in the

middle of Jötunheim, so it will not be difficult for you to imagine

what a toilsome and wondrous journey Skirnir had. He was a brave

hero, and he rode a brave horse; but, when they came to the barrier

of murky flame that surrounds Jötunheim, a shudder came over both.

"Dark it is without," said Skirnir to his horse, "and you and I must

leap through flame, and go over hoar mountains among Giant Folk. The

giants will take us both, or we shall return victorious together."

Then he patted his horse's neck, and touched him with his armed heel,

and with one bound he cleared the barrier, and his hoofs rang on the

frozen land.

Their first day's journey was through the land of the Frost Giants,

whose prickly touch kills, and whose breath is sharper than swords.

Then they passed through the dwellings of the horse-headed and

vulture-headed giants,--monsters terrible to see. Skirnir hid his

face, and the horse flew along swifter than the wind.

On the evening of the third day they reached Gymir's house. Skirnir

rode round it nine times; but though there were twenty doors, he

could find no entrance; for fierce three-headed dogs guarded every

door-way.

At length he saw a herdsman pass near, and he rode up and asked him

how it was possible for a stranger to enter Gymir's house, or get a

sight of his fair daughter Gerd.

"Are you doomed to death, or are you already a dead man," answered

the herdsman, "that you talk of seeing Gymir's fair daughter, or

entering a house from which no one ever returns?"

"My death is fixed for one day," said Skirnir, in answer, and his

voice, the voice of an Asa, sounded loud and clear through the misty

air of Jötunheim. It reached the ears of the fair Gerd as she sat in

her chamber with her maidens.

"What is that noise of noises," she said, "that I hear? The earth

shakes with it, and all Gymir's halls tremble."

Then one of the maidens got up, and peeped out of the window.

"I see a man," she said; "he has dismounted from his horse, and he is

fearlessly letting it graze before the door."

"Go out and bring him in stealthily, then," said Gerda; "I must again

hear him speak; for his voice is sweeter than the ringing of bells."

So the maiden rose, and opened the house-door softly, lest the grim

giant, Gymir, who was drinking mead in the banquet-hall with seven

other giants, should hear and come forth.

Skirnir heard the door open, and understanding the maiden's sign, he

entered with stealthy steps, and followed her to Gerda's chamber. As

soon as he entered the doorway the light from her face shone upon

him, and he no longer wondered that Frey had given up his sword.

"Are you the son of an Asa, or an Alf, or of a wise Van?" asked

Gerda; "and why have you come through flame and snow to visit our

halls?"

Then Skirnir came forward and knelt at Gerda's feet, and gave his

message, and spoke as he had promised to speak of Van Frey and of

Alfheim.

Gerda listened; and it was pleasant enough to talk to her, looking

into her bright face; but she did not seem to understand much of what

he said.

He promised to give her eleven golden apples from Idūna's grove if

she would go with him, and that she should have the magic ring

Draupnir from which every day a still fairer jewel fell. But he found

there was no use in talking of beautiful things to one who had never

in all her life seen anything beautiful.

Gerda smiled at him as a child smiles at a fairy tale.

At length he grew angry. "If you are so childish, maiden," he said,

"that you can believe only what you have seen, and have no thought of

Æsirland or the Æsir, then sorrow and utter darkness shall fall upon

you; you shall live alone on the Eagle Mount turned towards Hel.

Terrors shall beset you; weeping shall be your lot. Men and Æsir will

hate you, and you shall be doomed to live for ever with the Frost

Giant, Ryme, in whose cold arms you will wither away like a thistle

on a house-top."

"Gently," said Gerd, turning away her bright head, and sighing. "How

am I to blame? you make such a talk of your Æsir and your Æsir; but

how can I know about it, when all my life long I have lived with

giants?"

At these words, Skirnir rose as if he would have departed, but Gerda

called him back.

"You must drink a cup of mead," she said, "in return for your

sweet-sounding words."

Skirnir heard this gladly, for now he knew what he would do. He

took the cup from her hand, drank off the mead, and, before he

returned it, he contrived cleverly to pour in the water from his

drinking-horn, on which Frey's image was painted; then he put the

cup into Gerda's hand, and bade her look.

She smiled as she looked; and the longer she looked, the sweeter grew

her smile; for she looked for the first time on a face that loved

her, and many things became clear to her that she had never

understood before. Skirnir's words were no longer like fairy tales.

She could now believe in Æsirland, and in all beautiful things.

"Go back to your master," she said, at last, "and tell him that in

nine days I will meet him in the warm wood Barri."

After hearing these joyful words, Skirnir made haste to take leave,

for every moment that he lingered in the giant's house he was in

danger. One of Gerda's maidens conducted him to the door, and he

mounted his horse again, and rode from Jötunheim with a glad heart.

PART IV. THE WOOD BARRI.

When Skirnir got back to Alfheim, and told Gerd's answer to Frey, he

was disappointed to find that his master did not immediately look as

bright and happy as he expected.

"Nine days!" he said; "but how can I wait nine days? One day is long,

and three days are very long, but 'nine days' might as well be a

whole year."

I have heard children say such things when one tells them to wait for

a new toy.

Skirnir and old Niörd only laughed at it; but Freyja and all the

ladies of Asgard made a journey to Alfheim, when they heard the

story, to comfort Frey, and hear all the news about the wedding.

"Dear Frey," they said, "it will never do to lie still here, sighing

under a tree. You are quite mistaken about the time being long; it is

hardly long enough to prepare the marriage presents, and talk over

the wedding. You have no idea how busy we are going to be; everything

in Alfheim will have to be altered a little."

At these words Frey really did lift up his head, and wake up from his

musings. He looked, in truth, a little frightened at the thought;

but, when all the Asgard ladies were ready to work for his wedding,

how could he make any objection? He was not allowed to have much

share in the business himself; but he had little time, during the

nine days, to indulge in private thought, for never before was there

such a commotion in Alfheim. The ladies found so many things that

wanted overlooking, and the little light elves were not of the

slightest use to any one. They forgot all their usual tasks, and went

running about through groves and fields, and by the sedgy banks of

rivers, peering into earth-holes, and creeping down into flower-cups

and empty snail-shells, every one hoping to find a gift for Gerda.

Some stole the light from glow-worms' tails, and wove it into a

necklace, and others pulled the ruby spots from cowslip leaves, to

set with jewels the acorn cups that Gerda was to drink from; while

the swiftest runners chased the butterflies, and pulled feathers from

their wings to make fans and bonnet-plumes.

All the work was scarcely finished when the ninth day came, and Frey

set out from Alfheim with all his elves, to the warm wood Barri.

The Æsir joined him on the way, and they made, together, something

like a wedding procession. First came Frey in his chariot, drawn by

Golden Bristles, and carrying in his hand the wedding-ring, which was

none other than Draupnir, the magic ring of which so many stories are

told.

Odin and Frigga followed with their wedding gift, the Ship

Skidbladnir, in which all the Æsir could sit and sail, though it

could afterwards be folded up so small, that you might carry it in

your hand.

Then came Idūna, with eleven golden apples in a basket on her fair

head, and then two and two all the heroes and ladies with their

gifts.

All round them flocked the elves, toiling under the weight of their

offerings. It took twenty little people to carry one gift, and yet

there was not one so large as a baby's finger. Laughing, and singing,

and dancing, they entered the warm wood, and every summer flower sent

a sweet breath after them. Everything on earth smiled on the

wedding-day of Frey and Gerda, only--when it was all over, and every

one had gone home, and the moon shone cold into the wood--it seemed

as if the Vanir spoke to one another.

"Odin," said one voice, "gave his eye for wisdom, and we have seen

that it was well done."

"Frey," answered the other, "has given his sword for happiness. It

may be well to be unarmed while the sun shines and bright days last;

but when Ragnarök has come, and the sons of Muspell ride down to the

last fight, will not Frey regret his sword?"

* * * * *

Frey appears as the summer god, and the Boar was sacred to him

because, from its tearing up the earth with its tusks, it typified

agriculture and return of the seed-sowing time. Gerda is supposed to

represent the frozen earth, which Summer seeing from far off loves

and woos to his embrace. The lighting of the sky by the uplifted

giant maiden's arms is explained to mean the Northern Lights glancing

from one end of heaven to the other. Frey parts with his sword in

order to win Gerda--this is alluded to in both _Eddas_ as if it were

wrong or at any rate highly imprudent. "When the sons of Muspell come

at Ragnarök," it is said, and Frey shall have to meet Surtur in

battle, "then will thou, unhappy, not have wherewith to fight." The

ship Skidbladnir was said to have been made by four dwarfs in the

beginning of time; it is alluded to in a poem quoted before. Draupnir

is not mentioned in the _Edda_ in connection with Frey and Gerda.

The Northmen had three grand religious festivals in their year: they

all took place in the winter half of the year, between the harvest

and seed time. One was celebrated in midwinter about the turn of the

day, and from so very nearly coinciding with our Christmas, its name,

"Yule," came to be applied to the Christian festival. Yule is derived

from a name of Odin, but it is said by Laing that this winter feast

was held in honour of Thor. In Fouqué's writings a custom is named

which the Scandinavians had of making vows to accomplish some great

enterprise before another new year, over a golden boar's head at this

winter feast; the mention of the golden boar seems to connect the

festival with the god Frey, probably it was a general propitiation of

the summer deities for the coming year; the second festival was in

honour of the goddesses; the third, about spring, in honour of Odin,

because at this season warlike expeditions began to be undertaken.

CHAPTER IV.

THE WANDERINGS OF FREYJA.

PART I. THE NECKLACE BRISINGAMEN.

Now, though Frey was made king and schoolmaster of the light elves,

and spent the greater part of his time with them in Alfheim, his

sister Freyja remained in the city of Asgard, and had a palace built

for her named Folkvang. In this palace there was one very beautiful

hall, Sessrymnir--the "Roomy Seated"--where Freyja entertained her

guests, and she had always plenty of them; for every one liked to

look at her beautiful face, and listen to her enchanting music which

was quite superior to anybody else's. She had, moreover, a wonderful

husband named Odur, who was one of the sons of the immortals, and had

come from a long way off on purpose to marry her. Freyja was a little

proud of this, and used often to speak of it to Frigga and the other

ladies of Asgard. Some of them said she was a very fortunate person;

but some were a little jealous of her, whilst Frigga always gravely

warned her not to be vain on account of her happiness, lest sorrow

should overtake her unawares.