Iduna followed him. The sea-wind blew cold and rough, and her little
wings fluttered with fear; but she struck them bravely out into the air
and flew like an arrow over the water.
“This way lies Asgard,” cried Loki, and the word gave her strength. But
they had not gone far when a sound was heard above the sea, and the wind,
and the call of the sea-birds. Thiassi had put on his eagle plumage, and
was flying after them. For five days and five nights the three flew over
the water that divides Jötunheim from Asgard, and, at the end of every
day, they were closer together, for the giant was gaining on the other
two.
All the five days the dwellers in Asgard stood on the walls of the city
watching. On the sixth evening they saw a falcon and a sparrow, closely
pursued by an eagle, flying towards Asgard.
“There will not be time,” said Bragi, who had been calculating the speed
at which they flew. “The eagle will reach them before they can get into
the city.”
But Odin desired a fire to be lighted upon the walls; and Thor and Tyr,
with what strength remained to them, tore up the trees from the groves
and gardens, and made a rampart of fire all round the city. The light of
the fire showed Iduna, her husband and her friends waiting for her. She
made one last effort, and, rising high up in the air above the flames
and smoke, she passed the walls, and dropped down safely at the foot of
Odin’s throne. The giant tried to follow; but, wearied with his long
flight, he was unable to raise his enormous bulk sufficiently high in the
air. The flames scorched his wings as he flew through them, and he fell
among the flaming piles of wood and was burnt to death.
How Iduna feasted the Æsir on her apples, how they grew young and
beautiful again, and how spring, and green leaves, and music came back
to the grove, I must leave you to imagine, for I have made my story long
enough already; and if I say any more you will fancy that it is Bragi who
has come among you, and that he has entered on his endless story.
HOW THE FENRIS WOLF WAS CHAINED
By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton
Fair as were the meads of Asgard, we have seen that the Asa folk were
fond of wandering far afield in other regions. Most restless of all
was Red Loki, that cunning fellow who was always bringing trouble upon
himself or upon his kindred. And because he loved evil, he would often
betake himself to the gloomy halls of Giantland and mingle with the
wicked folk of that region.
Now one day he met a hideous giantess named Angur-Boda. This creature
had a heart of ice, and because he loved ugliness and evil she had a
great attraction for him, and in the end he married her, and they lived
together in a horrible cave in Giantland.
Three children were born to Loki and Angur-Boda in this dread abode, and
they were even more terrible in appearance than their mother. The first
was an immense wolf called Fenris, with a huge mouth filled with long
white teeth, which he was constantly gnashing together.
The second was a wicked-looking serpent with a fiery-red tongue lolling
from its mouth.
The third was a hideous giantess, partly blue and partly flesh-color,
whose name was Hela.
No sooner were these three terrible children born than all the wise men
of the earth began to foretell the misery they would bring upon the Asa
folk.
In vain did Loki try to keep them hidden within the cave wherein their
mother dwelt. They soon grew so immense in size that no dwelling would
contain them, and all the world began to talk of their frightful
appearance.
It was not long, of course, before All-Father Odin, from his high seat in
Asgard, heard of the children of Loki. So he sent for some of the Asas,
and said:
“Much evil will come upon us, O my children, from this giant brood, if
we defend not ourselves against them. For their mother will teach them
wickedness, and still more quickly will they learn the cunning wiles of
their father. Fetch me them here, therefore, that I may deal with them
forthwith.”
So, after somewhat of a struggle, the Asas captured the three
giant-children and brought them before Odin’s judgment-seat.
Then Odin looked first at Hela, and when he saw her gloomy eyes, full of
misery and despair, he was sorry and dealt kindly with her, saying: “Thou
art the bringer of Pain to man, and Asgard is no place for such as thou.
But I will make thee ruler of the Mist Home, and there shalt thou rule
over that unlighted world, the Region of the Dead.”
Forthwith he sent her away over rough roads to the cold, dark region of
the North called the Mist Home. And there did Hela rule over a grim crew,
for all those who had done wickedness in the world above were imprisoned
by her in those gloomy regions. To her came also all those who had died,
not on the battlefield, but of old age or disease. And though these were
treated kindly enough, theirs was a joyless life in comparison with that
of the dead warriors who were feasting and fighting in the halls of
Valhalla, under the kindly rule of All-Father Odin.
Having thus disposed of Hela, Odin next turned his attention to the
serpent. And when he saw his evil tongue and cunning, wicked eyes, he
said:
“Thou art he who bringest Sin into the world of men; therefore the ocean
shall be thy home for ever.”
Then he threw that horrid serpent into the deep sea which surrounds all
lands, and there the creature grew so fast that when he stretched himself
one day he encircled all the earth, and held his own tail fast in his
mouth. And sometimes he grew angry to think that he, the son of a god,
had thus been cast out; and at those times he would writhe with his huge
body and lash his tail till the sea spouted up to the sky. And when that
happened the men of the North said that a great tempest was raging. But
it was only the Serpent-son of Loki writhing in his wrath.
Then Odin turned to the third child. And behold! the Fenris Wolf was so
appalling to look upon that Odin feared to cast him forth, and he decided
to endeavor to tame him by kindness so that he should not wish them ill.
But when he bade them carry food to the Fenris Wolf, not one of the Asas
would do so, for they feared a snap from his great jaws. Only the brave
Tyr had courage enough to feed him, and the wolf ate so much and so fast
that the business took him all his time. Meantime, too, the Fenris grew
so rapidly, and became so fierce, that the gods were compelled to take
counsel and consider how they should get rid of him. They remembered that
it would make their peaceful halls unholy if they were to slay him, and
so they resolved instead to bind him fast, that he should be unable to do
them harm.
So those of the Asa folk who were clever smiths set to work and made a
very strong, thick chain; and when it was finished they carried it out
to the yard where the wolf dwelt, and said to him, as though in jest:
“Here is a fine proof of thy boasted strength, O Fenris. Let us bind this
about thee, that we may see if thou canst break it asunder.”
Then the wolf gave a great grin with his wide jaws, and came and stood
still that they might bind the chain about him; for he knew what he could
do. And it came to pass that directly they had fastened the chain, and
had slipped aside from him, the great beast gave himself a shake, and the
chain fell about him in little bits.
At this the Asas were much annoyed, but they tried not to show it, and
praised him for his strength.
Then they set to work again upon a chain much stronger than the last, and
brought it to the Fenris Wolf, saying:
“Great will be thy renown, O Fenris, if thou canst break this chain as
thou didst the last.”
But the wolf looked at them askance, for the chain they brought was very
much thicker than the one he had already broken. He reflected, however,
that since that time he himself had grown stronger and bigger, and
moreover, that one must risk something in order to win renown.
So he let them put the chain upon him, and when the Asas said that all
was ready, he gave a good shake and stretched himself a few times, and
again the fetters lay in fragments on the ground.
Then the gods began to fear that they would never hold the wolf in bonds;
and it was All-Father Odin who persuaded them to make one more attempt.
So they sent a messenger to Dwarfland bidding him ask the Little Men to
make a chain which nothing could possibly destroy.
Setting at once to work, the clever little smiths soon fashioned a
slender silken rope, and gave it to the messenger, saying that no
strength could break it, and that the more it was strained the stronger
it would become.
It was made of the most mysterious things—the sound of a cat’s footsteps,
the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of fishes, and
other such strange materials, which only the dwarfs knew how to use.
With this chain the messenger hastened back over the Rainbow Bridge to
Asgard.
By this time the Fenris Wolf had grown too big for his yard, so he lived
on a rocky island in the middle of the lake that lies in the midst of
Asgard.
And here the Asas now betook themselves with their chain, and began to
play their part with wily words.
“See,” they cried, “O Fenris! Here is a cord so soft and thin that none
would think of it binding such strength as thine.”
And they laughed great laughs, and handed it to one another, and tried
its strength by pulling at it with all their might, but it did not break.
Then they came nearer and used more wiles, saying:
“_We_ cannot break the cord, though ’tis stronger than it looks, but
thou, O mighty one, will be able to snap it in a moment.”
But the wolf tossed his head in scorn, and said:
“Small renown would there be to me, O Asa folk, if I were to break yon
slender string. Save, therefore, your breath, and leave me now alone.”
“Aha!” cried the Asas. “Thou fearest the might of the silken cord, thou
false one, and that is why thou wilt not let us bind thee!”
“Not I,” said the Fenris Wolf, growing rather suspicious, “but if it is
made with craft and guile it shall never come near my feet.”
“But,” said the Asas, “thou wilt surely be able to break this silken cord
with ease, since thou hast already broken the great iron fetters.”
To this the wolf made no answer, pretending not to hear.
“Come!” said the Asas again, “why shouldst thou fear? For even if thou
couldst not break the cord we would immediately let thee free again. To
refuse is a coward’s piece of work.”
Then the wolf gnashed his teeth at them in anger, and said:
“Well I know you Asas! For if you bind me so fast that I cannot get loose
you will skulk away, and it will be long before I get any help from you;
and therefore am I loath to let this band be laid upon me.”
But still the Asas continued to persuade him and to twit him with
cowardice, until at length the Fenris Wolf said, with a sullen growl:
“Have it your own way then. But, as a pledge that this is done without
deceit, let one of you lay his hand in my mouth while you are binding
me, and afterwards while I try to break the bonds.”
Then the Asa folk looked at one another in dismay, for they knew very
well what this would mean.
And while they consulted together the wolf stood gnashing his teeth at
them with a horrid grin.
At length Tyr the Brave hesitated no longer. Boldly he stalked up to the
wolf and thrust his arm into his enormous mouth, bidding the Asas bind
fast the beast. Scarce had they done so when the wolf began to strain and
pull, but the more he did so the tighter and stiffer the rope became.
The gods shouted and laughed with glee when they saw how all his efforts
were in vain. But Tyr did not join in their mirth, for the wolf in his
rage snapped his great teeth together and bit off his hand at the wrist.
Now when the Asas discovered that the animal was fast bound, they took
the chain which was fixed to the rope and drew it through a huge rock,
and fastened this rock deep down in the earth, so that it could never
be moved. And this they fastened to another great rock which was driven
still deeper into the ground.
When the Fenris Wolf found that he had been thus secured he opened his
mouth terribly wide, and twisted himself right and left, and tried his
best to bite the Asa folk. He uttered, moreover, such terrible howls that
at length the gods could bear it no longer. So they took a sword and
thrust it into his mouth, so that the hilt rested on his lower, and the
point against his upper, jaw. And there he was doomed to remain until
the End of All Things shall come, when he
“Freed from the Chain
Shall range the Earth.”
THE STORY OF BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL
By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton
Fair beyond all the sons of Odin was Balder the Beautiful, Balder of the
snow-white brow and golden locks, and he was well beloved not only by the
Asa folk, but also by the men of the earth below.
“Of all the twelve round Odin’s throne,
Balder the Beautiful, alone,
The Sun god, good and pure and bright,
Was loved by all, as all love light.”
Balder had a twin-brother named Hoder, who was born blind. Gloomy and
silent was he, but none the less he loved his bright sun-brother best of
all in heaven or earth.
The home of Balder was a place with silver roof and pillars of gold, and
nothing unclean or impure was allowed to come inside its doors.
Very wise in all magic charms was this radiant young god; and for all
others save himself he could read the future; but “to keep his own life
safe and see the sun” was not granted to him.
Now there came a time when Balder’s bright face grew sad and downcast;
and when his father Odin and his mother Frigga perceived this they
implored him to tell them the cause of his grief. Then Balder told them
that he had been troubled by strange dreams; and, since in those days men
believed that dreams were sent as a warning of what was about to happen,
he had gone heavily since these visions had come to him.
First he had dreamt that a dark cloud had arisen which came before the
sun and shut out all brightness from the land.
The next night he dreamt again that Asgard lay in darkness, and that her
bright flowers and radiant trees were withered and lifeless, and that
the Asa folk, dull and withered also, were sorrowing as though from some
great calamity.
The third night he dreamt yet again that Asgard was dark and lifeless and
that from out of the gloom one sad voice cried:
“Woe! Woe! Woe! For Balder the Beautiful is dead—is dead!”
Odin listened to the recital of this story with heavy heart, and at its
conclusion he mounted his coal-black horse and rode over many a hard and
toilsome road till he came to the dark abode of Hela. And there he saw to
his surprise, that a great banquet was being prepared in the gloomy hall.
Dishes of gold were set upon the table and all the couches were covered
with the richest silken tapestry, as though some honored guest were
expected. But a throne that stood at the head of the table was empty.
Very thoughtfully Odin rode on through those dim halls till he came to
one where dwelt an ancient prophetess, whose voice no man had heard for
many a long year.
Silent he stood before her, until she asked in a voice that sounded as
though it came from far away: “Who art thou, and from whence dost thou
come to trouble my long rest?”
Now Odin was fearful that she would not answer him did he give his real
name, so he told her that he was the son of Valtam, and asked anxiously
for whom the grim goddess of Death was preparing her banquet.
Then, to his great grief, the hollow voice of the prophetess replied that
Balder was the expected guest, and that he would shortly be sent thither,
slain by the hand of Hoder, the blind god of Darkness.
“Who then,” asked Odin, in sorrowful tones, “shall avenge the death of
Balder?”
And she answered that the son of the Earth-goddess, Vali by name, should
neither
“Comb his raven hair
Nor wash his visage in the stream,
Nor see the sun’s departing beam,
Till he on Hoder’s corse shall smile
Flaming on the funeral pile.”
And learning thus of the fate of his two favorite sons, All-Father Odin
went sadly back to Asgard.
Meantime Mother Frigga had not been idle. Filled with anxiety for her
darling son, she decided to send her servants throughout the earth,
bidding them exact a promise from all things—not only living creatures,
but plants, stones, and metals, fire, water, trees and diseases of all
kinds—that they would do harm in no way to Balder the Beautiful.
Theirs was an easy task, for all things loved the bright Sun-god, and
readily agreed to give the pledge. Nothing was overlooked save only
the mistletoe, growing upon the oak-tree that shaded the entrance to
Valhalla. It seemed so insignificant that no one thought it worth while
to ask this plant to take the oath.
The servants returned to Frigga with all the vows and compacts that had
been made; and the Mother of Gods and Men went back with heart at ease to
her spinning-wheel.
The Asa folk, too, were reassured, and, casting aside the burden of care
that had fallen upon them, they resumed their favorite game upon the
plains of Idavold, where they were wont to contend with one another in
the throwing of golden disks.
And when it became known among them that nothing would hurt Balder the
Beautiful they invented a new game.
Placing the young Sun-god in their midst, they would throw stones at him,
or thrust at him with their knives, or strike with their wooden staves;
and the wood or the knife or the stone would glance off from Balder and
leave him quite unhurt.
This new game delighted both Balder and the Asa folk, and so loud was
their laughter that Loki, who was some distance away pursuing one of his
schemes in the disguise of an old woman, shook with rage at the sound.
For Loki was jealous of Balder and, as is usual with people who make
themselves disliked, nothing gave him such displeasure as to see a group
of the Asas on such happy terms with each other.
Presently, in his wanderings, Loki passed by the house of Fensalir, in
the doorway of which sat Frigga, at her spinning-wheel. She did not
recognize Red Loki, but greeted him kindly and asked:
“Old woman, dost thou know why the gods are so merry this evening?”
And Loki answered: “They are casting stones and throwing sharp knives and
great clubs at Balder the Beautiful, who stands smiling in their midst,
daring them to hurt him.”
Then Frigga smiled tranquilly and turned again to her wheel, saying:
“Let them play on, for no harm will come to him whom all things in heaven
and earth have sworn not to hurt.”
“Art thou sure, good mother, that _all_ things in heaven and earth have
taken this vow?”
“Ay, indeed,” replied Frigga, “all save a harmless little plant, the
mistletoe, which grows on the oak by Valhalla, and this is far too small
and weak to be feared.”
And to this Loki replied in musing voice, nodding his head as he spoke:
“Yea, thou art right, great Mother of Gods and Men.”
But the wicked Asa had learnt what he desired to know. The instrument by
which he might bring harm to Balder the Beautiful was now awaiting him,
and he determined to use it, to the dire sorrow of Asgard.
Hastening to the western gate of Valhalla, he pulled a clump of the
mistletoe from the oak, and fashioned therefrom a little wand, or stick,
and with this in his hand he returned to the plain of Idavold. He was far
too cunning, however, to attempt to carry out his wicked design himself.
His malicious heart was too well known to the Asa folk. But he soon found
an innocent tool. Leaning against a tree, and taking no part in the game,
was Hoder, the blind god, the twin brother of Balder, and to him he began:
“Hark to the Asas—how they laugh! Do you take no share in the game, good
Hoder?”
“Not I,” said Hoder gloomily, “for I am blind, and know not where to
throw.”
“I could show you that,” said Loki, assuming a pleasant tone; “’tis no
hard matter, Hoder, and methinks the Asas will call you proud and haughty
if you take no share in the fun.”
“But I have nothing to throw,” said poor blind Hoder.
Then Loki said: “Here, at least, is a small shaft, ’twill serve your
purpose,” and leading innocent Hoder into the ring he cunningly guided
his aim. Hoder, well pleased to be able to share in a game with his
beloved brother, boldly sped the shaft, expecting to hear the usual shout
of joyous laughter which greeted all such attempts. There fell instead
dead silence on his ear, and immediately on this followed a wail of
bitter agony. For Balder the Beautiful had fallen dead without a groan,
his heart transfixed by the little dart of mistletoe.
“So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round
Lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts, and spears,
Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrown
At Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clove;
But in his breast stood fixed the fatal bough
Of mistletoe, which Loki the Accuser gave
To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw—
’Gainst that alone had Balder’s life no charm.”
Dreading he knew not what, Hoder stood in doubt for some moments. But
soon the meaning of that bitter wail was borne in upon him, piercing the
cloud of darkness in which he always moved. He opened wide his arms as
though to clasp the beloved form, and then with: “I have slain thee, my
brother,” despair seized him and he fell prostrate in utter grief.
Meantime, the Asa folk crowded round the silent form of Balder,
weeping and wailing; but, alas! their moans and tears could not bring
Balder back. At length, All-Father Odin, whose grief was too deep for
lamentations, bade them be silent and prepare to bear the body of the
dead Asa to the seashore.
The unhappy Hoder, unable to take part in these last offices, made his
way sadly through Asgard, beyond the walls and along the seashore, until
he came to the house Fensalir.
Frigga was seated upon her seat of honor before the fire against the
inner wall, and standing before her, with bent head and woeful, sightless
gaze, Hoder told her of the dread mishap that had befallen.
“Tell me, O mother,” he cried in ending, and his voice sounded like the
wail of the wind on stormy nights, “Tell me, is there aught I can do to
bring my brother back? Or can I make agreement with the dread mother of
the Underworld, giving my life in exchange for his?”
Woe crowded upon woe in the heart of Frigga as she listened to the story.
The doom was wrought that she had tried so vainly to avert, and not even
her mother’s love had availed to safeguard the son so dearly cherished.
“On Balder Death hath laid her hand, not thee, my son,” she said, “yet
though we fail in the end, there is much that may be tried before all
hope is lost.”
Then she told Hoder of a road by which the abode of Hela could be
reached, one which had been travelled by none living save Odin himself.
“Who goes that way must take no other horse
To ride, but Sleipnir, Odin’s horse, alone.
Nor must he choose that common path of gods
Which every day they come and go in heaven,
O’er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall’s watch.
“But he must tread a dark untravelled road
Which branches from the north of heaven, and ride
Nine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,
Through valleys deep engulfed, with roaring streams.
And he will reach on the tenth morn a bridge
Which spans with golden arches Giöll’s stream.
Then he will journey through no lighted land,
Nor see the sun arise, nor see it set;
“And he must fare across the dismal ice
Northward, until he meets a stretching wall
Barring his way, and in the wall a grate,
But then he must dismount and on the ice,
Tighten the girths of Sleipnir, Odin’s horse,
And make him leap the grate, and come within.”
There in that cheerless abode dead Balder was enthroned, but, said
Frigga, he who braves that dread journey must take no heed of him, nor of
the sad ghosts flitting to and fro, like eddying leaves. First he must
accost their gloomy queen and entreat her with prayers:
“Telling her all that grief they have in heaven
For Balder, whom she holds by right below.”
A bitter groan of anguish escaped from Hoder when Frigga had finished her
recital of the trials which must be undergone:
“Mother, a dreadful way is this thou showest;
No journey for a sightless god to go.”
And she replied:
“… Thyself thou shalt not go, my son;
But he whom first thou meetest when thou com’st
To Asgard and declar’st this hidden way,
Shall go; and I will be his guide unseen.”
Meantime the Asa folk had felled trees and had carried to the seashore
outside the walls of Asgard a great pile of fuel, which they laid upon
the deck of Balder’s great ship, _Ringhorn_, as it lay stranded high upon
the beach.
“Seventy ells and four extended
On the grass the vessel’s keel;
High above it, gilt and splendid,
Rose the figurehead ferocious
With its crest of steel.”