Stories from Northern Myths. Emilie K. Baker
to pieces as easily as if it were made of glass. The gods looked on in wonder and dismay, and the wolf walked off with a low, threatening growl. Even Odin was silent with fear, for it had been revealed to him in the runes that in the final overthrow of Asgard, the Fenris wolf should bear a part.
Thor now came forward and begged permission to try again at making another chain much larger and stronger than the last. The forging of this second chain took many days and nights, for Thor tested every link to see that it was strong and sure.[24] At last it was finished, and brought on the shoulders of the strongest of the gods to the foot of Odin’s throne. Fenrer was again summoned, but when he saw the chain, he refused to be bound. No flattery or coaxing could move him, so the gods began to taunt him, laughing at his boasted strength and accusing him of cowardice. Apparently with great reluctance, the wolf again allowed himself to be bound; and when the chain was secured about his shaggy body and fastened tightly to the ground, the gods looked on, feeling fearful and yet full of joy, for surely nothing could be stronger than the massive chain which was wound round and round the prostrate wolf. But Fenrer rose slowly, stretched himself, and gave one bound into the air, while the gods drew back in dismay before the rattling shower of broken links.
[24] This chain was called Drome. Back
Then Odin saw that no brass or steel or any metal could withstand the terrible strength of the wolf, and he bade Thor give up all further attempts to forge a chain, while he had it proclaimed throughout Asgard that Fenrer was to roam wherever he would. Shortly after this he sent Loki on a journey far across the seas to a country so distant from Asgard that he would have to be gone many days. Though usually alert and suspicious, Loki set off on his errand, not dreaming that Odin had some purpose in sending him away. As soon as he was gone, Odin despatched Skirner, Freyr’s trusty servant, with all speed to the home of the swarthy elves, and bade him procure from them an enchanted chain, such as they alone knew how to make. Skirner set out at once and found his journey a safer and pleasanter one than he had expected, for though the home of the dwarfs was underground, the road was easy to find. Odin had instructed him to look at the base of a certain mountain for a tiny stream of opal-tinted water. Having come to the foot of the mountain, Skirner followed the stream to its rocky source, and the rest of the journey was quickly made.
When he delivered his message to the elves,[25] they set immediately to work, and for nine days and nights Skirner heard no sound in the workshop as the little men plied their task. No stroke of hammer or noise of anvil was necessary in the making of this wonderful chain, for into its weaving went the strangest things that Skirner had ever seen,—the down from a butterfly’s wing, a handful of moonbeams, the lace of a spider’s web, a humming bird’s lance, the breath of the night wind and many other queer and mysterious things. The work was all done in perfect silence, and Skirner sat by looking on in wonder as the magic chain grew into being under the elves’ skilful fingers. At last it was finished, and with the precious gift in his hands, Skirner hastened back to Asgard.[26]
[25] The home of the elves was in Svartalfheim. Back
[26] This magic chain was called Gleipnir. Back
Then Odin called the gods together and summoned Fenrer to come and try his strength a third time. When the wolf saw the chain which was to bind him, he became at once suspicious, especially when he found that Loki was absent. He had no doubt of his power to break brass and steel, but he scented a possible danger in the soft, fine thread which lay in Odin’s hand. As he had no one here to warn him if the gods meant mischief, he felt that it was safer to wait until Loki was present; so he drew away, growling and showing his teeth. At this Thor cried out,—
“How now, Fenrer, have you used up all your strength in breaking those heavy chains, and have not enough left to snap this slender thread?”
This taunt made the wolf growl more fiercely than ever, though he consented a third time to be bound, demanding first, however, that one of the gods should put his hand in the huge mouth, and leave it there as a pledge that no magic arts were being used against him. None of the gods wished to take such a risk, and they all drew back in dismay except Tyr, the sword-god, who stepped boldly forward and thrust his hand into the wolf’s mouth. Then Fenrer submitted to be bound, and allowed the gods to wind the slender thread all about him and fasten the end to a rock. The moment it was secured, the wolf tried as before to shake himself free, but the more he struggled and strained, the tighter grew the magic thread, until at last Fenrer lay bound and helpless and foaming madly with rage. Seeing that he had been tricked, he closed his teeth savagely upon Tyr’s fingers, and bit off his whole hand. But the sword-god felt repaid for the loss of his hand since the wolf at last was bound. Thus the gods left him securely chained to the rock; and there he lay until the final terrible day when it was decreed that he should break loose again, and help in bringing destruction upon all the dwellers of Asgard.
How Thor Went Fishing
ONE day the gods went to a feast given by Æger the sea-god; and they drank so much ale that before the meal was half over the vessel which old Æger had filled was drained dry. He was greatly distressed at finding there was not enough to drink, and he began at once to brew more of the foaming ale. As his kettle was rather small for so great a company, he asked Thor to find him a larger one that would better suit the needs of the gods. To this Thor, who was always ready for any sort of adventure, replied readily,—
“Tell me where to get the kettle, and I will fetch it, even if it is from the very heart of Jötunheim.”
Now Æger had no idea where to look for such an enormous kettle as he needed; but just then Tyr spoke up and said:—
“My father Hymer has a kettle that is one mile deep and half a mile wide. If Thor wishes to risk the giant’s anger, he can go with me to Hymer’s castle.”
So the two gods set off for their long journey in Thor’s swift goat-chariot; and though they travelled quickly over the frost-bound country that stretched far away to the north, it was a long time before they came to the land where Hymer and his kindred lived. Here they had to cross two half-frozen rivers over which the goats carried them safely, and then they came to the foot of a great ice-covered mountain that looked as smooth as glass. Tyr advised that they go the rest of the way on foot; so, leaving the chariot by some low fir trees, the two gods proceeded to climb up the slippery side of the mountain.
Almost at the top they came upon Hymer’s castle, and they entered the spacious hall where a huge fire, made of entire trees, was burning on the hearth. Near the fire was seated Tyr’s grandmother, a hideous old giantess who did not speak to the two gods as they entered, but only grinned horridly at them, showing her long, pointed teeth that looked like a wolf’s fangs. Beside her sat a beautiful woman spinning flax with a golden wheel. This was Tyr’s mother, who was as lovely as the old woman was hideous, and as kind as the hag was cruel. She welcomed her son affectionately, but warned him that both he and Thor had better keep hidden until they found out whether Hymer was disposed to be friendly—for when the giant was angry he was not a pleasant person to encounter.
Late in the evening Hymer came home, tired and ill-tempered after an unsuccessful day’s fishing. He shook the snow from his clothes and combed the ice out of his long, white beard. Then he sat down by the fire, and while he watched the meat turn on the spit, Tyr’s mother said softly: “Our son has come to see you. Shall we welcome him