...She is all fair, the Goddess of Veins--the Goddess
Suonetar, the beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth
she spin the veins of men with her wondrous spindle, with
her distaff of brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron....
Like the leaping of the mountain stream, like the rushing of a torrent,
the blood issued from the knee of Wainamoinen, wounded by his own axe
through the craft of Hiisi the Evil, through the malice of Lempo, the
herder of wolves and bears.
The ancient and valiant Wainamoinen had knowledge of all wisdom, all
speech that is eternal, all magical words save only the word by which
wizard wounds are healed. He invoked the magical art, he uttered the
awful imprecation; carefully he read the Original Words, pronounced the
runes of science.
But he had forgotten the mightiest words--the Words of Blood, the
charmed words by which the palpitant torrent is checked, by which the
gory stream is held back, by which invincible dikes are cast athwart
the places broken by iron, athwart the bites made by the blue teeth of
steel.
And the blood ceased not to gush bubbling from the wound of the hero,
from the knee of Wainamoinen.
The aged and valiant Wainamoinen harnessed his steed to his brown
sledge; he mounted upon the seat, smote the swift horse, and cracked
his great whip adorned with pearls.
The steed flew over the long course, drawing the brown sledge,
devouring distance. Swift as wind was the driving of Wainamoinen, until
he neared the dwelling of the sorcerers, the first of the habitations
of the wizards. And he halted at the threshold, and cried: "Is there in
this habitation any man learned in the knowledge of iron--any man who
can oppose a dike to this river, who can check this torrent of blood?"
A child, a little child, was seated in the middle of the floor; and the
child answered, saying: "There is no man here learned in the knowledge
of iron--no man able to assuage with his breath even the bruises of
wood, nor to ease the pain of heroes.... Go thou to another habitation."
The ancient and valiant Wainamoinen made his great whip, adorned
with pearls, whistle upon the flanks of his rapid courser. Swift as
lightning his course, until they came to the middle dwelling; and
Wainamoinen halted at the threshold, and cried aloud: "Is there in this
habitation any man learned in the knowledge of iron--any man able to
oppose a dike to this river, to check this torrent of blood?"
An aged woman was there, lying under her blankets, chattering,
babbling, within the furthest end of the recess of the hearth--an aged
woman with three teeth only--the wisest woman in all that country. And
she arose and drew nigh unto the door, and made reply, saying: "There
is no man here learned enough to comprehend the misfortune of the hero,
to ease his pain, to stop the river of the veins, the rainfall of
blood, the torrent of blood out-rolling. Go, seek thou such a man in
some other habitation."
The aged and valiant Wainamoinen made his great whip, adorned with
pearls, whistle upon the flanks of his swift steed. Lightning-wise
he followed the long way leading to the highest habitation. And he
descended at the threshold, and leaning against a pillar, cried
aloud: "Is there in this habitation any man learned in the knowledge
of iron--any man able to oppose a dike to this river, to check this
torrent of blood?"
An aged man dwelt within the great fireplace. His voice roared from
the recess of the glowing hollow: "We have checked mightier ones, we
have enchained swifter ones, we have overcome greater dangers, we have
broken down loftier obstacles--even by the Three Words of the Creator,
by the utterance of the Original Words, the holy words. By them the
mouths of rivers, the courses of lakes, the fury of cataracts, have
been overcome. We have separated straits from promontories; we have
conjoined isthmuses with isthmuses."
The aged Wainamoinen descended from his sledge, and entered beneath the
old man's roof. A cup of silver was brought to him, and a cup of gold;
but these could not contain the least part of the blood of Wainamoinen,
the blood of the noble god.
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth--the long-beard cried
out: "What manner of man art thou? What hero? Already have seven cups,
eight great vessels, been filled with the blood flowing from thy knee!
Ah! would I could utter other magical words--even the great Words of
Blood! But, alas! I have forgotten the origin of Iron."
Then said the aged Wainamoinen: "I know the origin of Iron; I know
the birth of Steel. There were three children whose origin was the
same: Water, which is the eldest; Iron, which is the youngest; Fire,
to which the middle rank belongs. And Fire soon displayed its rage;
flames lifted themselves insolently, and waxed vast with pride. The
fields were consumed, the marshes were scorched in that great year of
sterility, in that fatal summer which devoured with inextinguishable
fire all creatures of nature. Then did Iron seek a refuge, a place
wherein to hide."...
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "Where did Iron hide
itself? Where did it find refuge in that great year of barrenness, in
that fatal summer which devoured all creatures of nature?"
The aged Wainamoinen, the valiant Wainamoinen, made answer: "Then Iron
hid itself; Iron found a refuge in the extremity of a long cloud, in
the summit of an oak stripped of its branches, in the budding bosom of
a young girl.... There were three virgins, three affianced maidens, who
poured forth upon the ground the milk of their breasts. The milk of the
first was black; the milk of the second, white; the milk of the third
was ruddy. Of the virgin whose milk was black, Flexible Iron was born;
of her whose milk was white, Fragile Iron was born; of her with the
ruddy milk was born Steel.... Then for two years Iron hid itself in the
midst of a vast marsh, upon the summit of a rock where the white swans
laid their eggs, where the wild duck hatched out her little ones. And
the wolf rushed through the marsh; and the bear rushed into the sterile
plain; and they tore up the earth that concealed the Iron. But a god,
passing through that barren place, saw the black sand that the wolf had
torn up, that the bear had trampled beneath his feet.... And that day
the Iron was taken out of the marsh, and purged from the slime of the
earth, and purified by drying from the humidity of the waters."
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "So that was the
origin of Iron? that was the birth of Steel?"
But the valiant Wainamoinen made answer: "Nay! not yet has the origin
of Iron been told. For, without devouring Fire, Iron may not be
born; without Water, it may not be hardened. Into the workshop of
the great smith it was borne, into the forge of Ilmarinnen; and the
mighty craftsman, the Eternal Smith, said unto it: 'If I place thee
within my fire, if I put thee into the flame of my forge-fire, thou
wilt become arrogant, thou wilt wax strong, thou wilt spread terror
about thee, thou wilt slay thy brother, thou wilt kill the son of thy
mother.'... Then the Iron within the forge fires, under the blows of
the hammer, sware this oath: 'I have trees to rend, hearts of stone to
gnaw; no! never will I slay my brother, never will I kill the son of
my mother.'... Then did Ilmarinnen soften the Iron within the heart
of the furnace, and shape it upon the anvil. But ere dipping it into
the water, he tested with his tongue, he tasted with his palate, the
creative juices of Steel, the water that gives hardness unto Iron. And
he cried: 'This water is powerless to create Steel, to harden Iron. O
Mehilainen, bird of Hiisi! O Herlihainen, my bird-friend! fly hither
upon thine agile wings; fly over the marshes, over the lands, over the
straits of the ocean! bring me honey upon thy feathers; bear to me upon
thy tongue the honey of seven meadow-stalks, of six flower-pistils,
for the Steel I am going to make, for the Iron I wish to harden.'...
But Herlihainen, the evil bird of Hiisi the Evil, brought the venom
of blood, the black juices of a worm that his lizard-eyes had seen,
the hidden poison of the toad; and he gave these to Ilmarinnen for the
Steel which was being prepared, the Iron that was to be tempered. And
suddenly the Iron quivered with rage; it growled; it moved; its oath
was forgotten; like a dog it swallowed its own oath, and it slew its
brother, it murdered the son of its mother. Even now it plunges into
flesh, bites the knees of men, rages so that blood flows and flows and
overflows in vast torrents."
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "Now I know the
origin of Iron, the fatal destiny of Steel!" And to his memory came
back the Original Words, the great Words of Blood; and he cursed the
Iron with magical curses, and quelled with caressing speech the panic
of the fleeing blood. And the hurt of the Iron ceased, and the red
torrent stayed its flowing.
Then the old man took within his fingers the extremities of the veins,
and counted them, and uttered the magical prayer:
All fair is she, the Goddess of Veins--Suonetar, the
beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth she spin the
veins of men with her beautiful spindle, with her distaff of
brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron.... Come, O Goddess
of Veins! Come unto me! I invoke thy succor, I call thy
name!... Bring hither in thy bosom a roll of ruddy flesh, a
blue skein of veins, that the wound may be filled, that the
ends of the veins may be tied!...
And suddenly the hurt of Wainamoinen was healed: the flesh became
firmer than before; the severed veins were retied, the severed muscles
rejoined, the broken bones reknit.
And many other wonderful things said and done by the old man within
the recess of the hearth are told of in the Fourth Rune of the ancient
Kalewala.