Once upon a time there lived a man named Kvasir, who was so wise that
no one could ask him a question to which he did not know the answer,
and who was so eloquent that his words dripped from his lips like notes
of music from a lute. For Kvasir was the first poet who ever lived, the
first of those wise makers of songs whom the Norse folk named _skalds_.
This Kvasir received his precious gifts wonderfully; for he was made by
the gods and the Vanir, those two mighty races, to celebrate the peace
which was evermore to be between them.
Up and down the world Kvasir traveled, lending his wisdom to the use of
men, his brothers; and wherever he went he brought smiles and joy and
comfort, for with his wisdom he found the cause of all men's troubles,
and with his songs he healed them. This is what the poets have been
doing in all the ages ever since. Folk declare that every skald has a
drop of Kvasir's blood in him. This is the tale which is told to show
how it happened that Kvasir's blessed skill has never been lost to the
world.
There were two wicked dwarfs named Fialar and Galar who envied Kvasir
his power over the hearts of men, and who plotted to destroy him. So
one day they invited him to dine, and while he was there, they begged
him to come aside with them, for they had a very secret question to
ask, which only he could answer. Kvasir never refused to turn his
wisdom to another's help; so, nothing suspecting, he went with them to
hear their trouble.
Thereupon this sly pair of wicked dwarfs led him into a lonely corner.
Treacherously they slew Kvasir; and because their cunning taught them
that his blood must be precious, they saved it in three huge kettles,
and mixing it with honey, made thereof a magic drink. Truly, a magic
drink it was; for whoever tasted of Kvasir's blood was straightway
filled with Kvasir's spirit, so that his heart taught wisdom and
his lips uttered the sweetest poesy. Thus the wicked dwarfs became
possessed of a wonderful treasure.
When the gods missed the silver voice of Kvasir echoing up from the
world below, they were alarmed, for Kvasir was very dear to them. They
inquired what had become of him, and finally the wily dwarfs answered
that the good poet had been drowned in his own wisdom. But Father Odin,
who had tasted another wise draught from Mimer's well, knew that this
was not the truth, and kept his watchful eye upon the dark doings of
Fialar and Galar.
Not long after this the dwarfs committed another wicked deed. They
invited the giant Gilling to row out to sea with them, and when they
were a long distance from shore, the wicked fellows upset the boat and
drowned the giant, who could not swim. They rowed back to land, and
told the giant's wife how the "accident" had happened. Then there were
giant shrieks and howls enough to deafen all the world, for the poor
giantess was heartbroken, and her grief was a giant grief. Her sobs
annoyed the cruel-hearted dwarfs. So Fialar, pretending to sympathize,
offered to take her where she could look upon the spot where her dear
husband had last been seen. As she passed through the gateway, the
other dwarf, to whom his brother had made a sign, let a huge millstone
fall upon her head. That was the ending of her, poor thing, and of her
sorrow, which had so disturbed the little people, crooked in heart as
in body.
But punishment was in store for them. Suttung, the huge son of Gilling,
learned the story of his parents' death, and presently, in a dreadful
rage, he came roaring to the home of the dwarfs. He seized one of them
in each big fist, and wading far out to sea, set the wretched little
fellows on a rock which at high tide would be covered with water.
"Stay there," he cried, "and drown as my father drowned!" The dwarfs
screamed thereat for mercy so loudly that he had to listen before he
went away.
"Only let us off, Suttung," they begged, "and you shall have the
precious mead made from Kvasir's blood."
Now Suttung was very anxious to own this same mead, so at last he
agreed to the bargain. He carried them back to land, and they gave him
the kettles in which they had mixed the magic fluid. Suttung took them
away to his cave in the mountains, and gave them in charge of his fair
daughter Gunnlöd. All day and all night she watched by the precious
kettles, to see that no one came to steal or taste of the mead; for
Suttung thought of it as his greatest treasure, and no wonder.
Father Odin had seen all these deeds from his seat above the heavens,
and his eye had followed longingly the passage of the wondrous mead,
for Odin longed to have a draught of it. Odin had wisdom, he had
drained that draught from the bottom of Mimer's mystic fountain; but
he lacked the skill of speech which comes of drinking Kvasir's blood.
He wanted the mead for himself and for his children in Asgard, and it
seemed a shame that this precious treasure should be wasted upon the
wicked giants who were their enemies. So he resolved to try if it might
not be won in some sly way.
One day he put on his favorite disguise as a wandering old man, and set
out for Giant Land, where Suttung dwelt. By and by he came to a field
where nine workmen were cutting hay. Now these were the servants of
Baugi, the brother of Suttung, and this Odin knew. He walked up to the
men and watched them working for a little while.
"Ho!" he exclaimed at last, "your scythes are dull. Shall I whet
them for you?" The men were glad enough to accept his offer, so Odin
took a whetstone from his pocket and sharpened all the scythes most
wonderfully. Then the men wanted to buy the stone; each man would have
it for his own, and they fell to quarreling over it. To make matters
more exciting, Odin tossed the whetstone into their midst, saying:--
"Let him have it who catches it!" Then indeed there was trouble! The
men fought with one another for the stone, slashing right and left with
their sharp scythes until every one was killed. Odin hastened away,
and went up to the house where Baugi lived. Presently home came Baugi,
complaining loudly and bitterly because his quarrelsome servants had
killed one another, so that there was not one left to do his work.
"What am I going to do?" he cried. "Here it is mowing time, and I have
not a single man to help me in the field!"
Then Odin spoke up. "I will help you," he said. "I am a stout fellow,
and I can do the work of nine men if I am paid the price I ask."
"What is the price which you ask?" queried Baugi eagerly, for he saw
that this stranger was a mighty man, and he thought that perhaps he
could do as he boasted.
"I ask that you get for me a drink of Suttung's mead," Odin answered.
Then Baugi eyed him sharply. "You are one of the gods," he said, "or
you would not know about the precious mead. Therefore I know that you
can do my work, the work of nine men. I cannot give you the mead. It
is my brother's, and he is very jealous of it, for he wishes it all
himself. But if you will work for me all the summer, when winter comes
I will go with you to Suttung's home and try what I can do to get a
draught for you."
So they made the bargain, and all summer Father Odin worked in the
fields of Baugi, doing the work of nine men. When the winter came, he
demanded his pay. So then they set out for Suttung's home, which was
a cave deep down in the mountains, where it seems not hard to hide
one's treasures. First Baugi went to his brother and told him of the
agreement between him and the stranger, begging for a gift of the magic
mead wherewith to pay the stout laborer who had done the work of nine.
But Suttung refused to spare even a taste of the precious liquor.
"This laborer of yours is one of the gods, our enemies," he said.
"Indeed, I will not give him of the precious mead. What are you
thinking of, brother!" Then he talked to Baugi till the giant was ready
to forget his promise to Odin, and to desire only the death of the
stranger who had come forward to help him.
Baugi returned to Odin with the news that the mead was not to be had
with Suttung's consent. "Then we must get it without his consent,"
declared Odin. "We must use our wits to steal it from under his nose.
You must help me, Baugi, for you have promised."
Baugi agreed to this; but in his heart he meant to entrap Odin to his
death. Odin now took from his pocket an auger such as one uses to bore
holes. "Look, now," he said. "You shall bore a hole into the roof of
Suttung's cave, and when the hole is large enough, I will crawl through
and get the mead."
"Very well," nodded Baugi, and he began to bore into the mountain with
all his might and main. At last he cried, "There, it is done; the
mountain is pierced through!" But when Odin blew into the hole to see
whether it did indeed go through into the cave, the dust made by the
auger flew into his face. Thus he knew that Baugi was deceiving him,
and thenceforth he was on his guard, which was fortunate.
"Try again," said Odin sternly. "Bore a little deeper, friend Baugi."
So Baugi went at the work once more, and this time when he said the
hole was finished, Odin found that his word was true, for the dust blew
through the hole and disappeared in the cave. Now Odin was ready to try
the plan which he had been forming.
Odin's wisdom taught him many tricks, and among them he knew the secret
of changing his form into that of any creature he chose. He turned
himself into a worm,--a long, slender, wiggly worm, just small enough
to be able to enter the hole that Baugi had pierced. In a moment he
had thrust his head into the opening, and was wriggling out of sight
before Baugi had even guessed what he meant to do. Baugi jumped forward
and made a stab at him with the pointed auger, but it was too late.
The worm's striped tail quivered in out of sight, and Baugi's wicked
attempt was spoiled.
When Odin had crept through the hole, he found himself in a dark,
damp cavern, where at first he could see nothing. He changed himself
back into his own noble form, and then he began to hunt about for the
kettles of magic mead. Presently he came to a little chamber, carefully
hidden in a secret corner of this secret grotto,--a chamber locked and
barred and bolted on the inside, so that no one could enter by the
door. Suttung had never thought of such a thing as that a stranger
might enter by a hole in the roof!
At the back of this tiny room stood three kettles upon the floor; and
beside them, with her head resting on her elbow, sat a beautiful
maiden, sound asleep. It was Gunnlöd, Suttung's daughter, the guardian
of the mead. Odin stepped up to her very softly, and bending over,
kissed her gently upon the forehead. Gunnlöd awoke with a start, and at
first she was horrified to find a stranger in the cave where it seemed
impossible that a stranger could enter. But when she saw the beauty of
Odin's face and the kind look of his eye, she was no longer afraid, but
glad that he had come. For poor Gunnlöd often grew lonesome in this
gloomy cellar-home, where Suttung kept her prisoner day and night to
watch over the three kettles.
"Dear maiden," said Odin, "I have come a long, long distance to see
you. Will you not bid me stay a little while?"
Gunnlöd looked at him kindly. "Who are you, and whence do you come so
far to see me?" she asked.
"I am Odin, from Asgard. The way is long and I am thirsty. Shall I not
taste the liquor which you have there?"
Gunnlöd hesitated. "My father bade me never let soul taste of the
mead," she said "I am sorry for you, however, poor fellow. You look
very tired and thirsty. You may have one little sip." Then Odin kissed
her and thanked her, and tarried there with such pleasant words for
the maiden that before he was ready to go she granted him what he
asked,--three draughts, only three draughts of the mead.
Now Odin took up the first kettle to drink, and with one draught he
drained the whole. He did the same by the next, and the next, till
before she knew it, Gunnlöd found herself guarding three empty kettles.
Odin had gained what he came for, and it was time for him to be gone
before Suttung should come to seek him in the cave. He kissed fair
Gunnlöd once again, with a sigh to think that he must treat her so
unfairly. Then he changed himself into an eagle, and away he flew to
carry the precious mead home to Asgard.
Meanwhile Baugi had told the giant Suttung how Odin the worm had
pierced through into his treasure-cave; and when Suttung, who was
watching, saw the great eagle fly forth, he guessed who this eagle must
be. Suttung also put on an eagle's plumage, and a wonderful chase
began. Whirr, whirr! The two enormous birds winged their way toward
Asgard, Suttung close upon the other's flight. Over the mountains
they flew, and the world was darkened as if by the passage of heavy
storm-clouds, while the trees, blown by the breeze from their wings,
swayed, and bent almost to the ground.
It was a close race; but Odin was the swifter of the two, and at last
he had the mead safe in Asgard, where the gods were waiting with huge
dishes to receive it from his mouth. Suttung was so close upon him,
however, that he jostled Odin even as he was filling the last dish, and
some of the mead was spilled about in every direction over the world.
Men rushed from far and near to taste of these wasted drops of Kvasir's
blood, and many had just enough to make them dizzy, but not enough
to make them wise. These folk are the poor poets, the makers of bad
verses, whom one finds to this day satisfied with their meagre, stolen
portion, scattered drops of the sacred draught.
The mead that Odin had captured he gave to the gods, a wondrous gift;
and they in turn cherished it as their most precious treasure. It was
given into the special charge of old Bragi of the white beard, because
his taste of the magic mead had made him wise and eloquent above all
others. He was the sweetest singer of all the Æsir, and his speech
was poetry. Sometimes Bragi gave a draught of Kvasir's blood to some
favored mortal, and then he also became a great poet. He did not do
this often,--only once or twice in the memory of an old man; for the
precious mead must be made to last a long, long time, until the world
be ready to drop to pieces, because this world without its poets would
be too dreadful a place to imagine.