Stories from Northern Myths. Emilie K. Baker
were created; and the gods called the man Ask, and the woman Embla, from the names of the trees from which they were made.
Odin’s Search for Wisdom
AT the end of the rainbow bridge stood the wonderful tree Ygdrasil, which bound all the worlds together in the grasp of its mighty hands. Some of the roots were firmly fixed in Midgard, and even extended underground to the home of the swarthy elves. Some roots branched out into Jötunheim, where the frost-giants ever strove to tear them out; and one root struck down into the very depths of the earth, to that dark region of the dead where ruled the terrible goddess Hel. The Tree of Life also grew upwards to a marvellous height, and its branches spread out so widely that many birds and beasts came to it for shelter. The topmost boughs reached up to Asgard, where they overshadowed Odin’s hall.
At the foot of the tree Ygdrasil sat the three Norns—or Fates[7]—who weave the thread of each man’s life. Every day the Norns sprinkled the tree with water from the sacred Urdar fountain; so the tree always flourished, and its leaves kept fresh and green in spite of the dragon[8] which forever gnawed at its roots, hoping to destroy it. The heavy foliage that crowned its upper boughs never lacked for moisture, but grew more beautiful each year, although Heidrun, the goat of Odin, browsed on its leaves, and though it furnished food to four great stags who grazed beside it. From the horns of these stags dew continually fell in such abundance that it supplied water for all the rivers of the earth.
[7] Their names were Urd, Verdande and Skuld. Back
[8] The dragon’s name was Nidhogg. Back
The very topmost branch of the Tree of Life was called the Peace Bough, and on it sat a great eagle who kept watch over all that happened in the worlds below. Up and down the trunk of the mighty Ygdrasil scampered the squirrel Ratatosk, a mischievous little fellow who delighted to make trouble between the eagle and the dragon at the foot of the tree by repeating malicious speeches which he said each had made of the other. In this way he hoped to stir up such strife that he would some day see a terrible battle fought between them. Ratatosk was daring enough to explore all the land that was overshadowed by the boughs of Ygdrasil, but he never ventured near the gates of Asgard, nor did he risk going into the deep grove that sheltered Mimer’s well—that wonderful well whose waters flowed down into the roots of the Tree of Life.
The Peace Bough hung over the hall of the gods just above the golden throne where Odin sat ruling the affairs of gods and men. On Odin’s head was a shining helmet shaped like an eagle, and over his shoulders was thrown a mantle of deep blue with such a wonderfully jewelled hem that it looked as if the cloak were edged with stars. In his hand he held a spear which was deemed so sacred that if any one swore an oath upon its point, he would never dare to break it. At Odin’s feet crouched two great wolves[9] which he fed daily with his own hand; and on his shoulders perched his two ravens Hugin and Munin (Thought and Memory) who flew each morning over the earth and brought back to Odin the news of all that was going on in the earth below. Sometimes they told him of the brave deeds of heroes; sometimes they spoke of the swarthy elves, or of the frost-giants plotting vengeance in their home beyond the frozen seas; and sometimes they warned him that the Midgard serpent, who lay with his immense body encircling the earth, was lashing the sea into foam with his tail and rolling up the waves until they threatened to cover the earth.
[9] Their names were Geri and Freki. Back
Since the ruling of the world was in Odin’s hands, he was anxious to gain wisdom enough for this great task; and though the gods far excelled the earth-folk in knowledge, there were some of the frost-giants who were wiser than Odin, for they knew of things that happened long before the coming of the gods. On this account the dwellers in Asgard were ever fearful lest their enemies should destroy their shining city; and Odin longed for the knowledge that would make him greater than any one in all the worlds.
There was only one way to get such wisdom as Odin wanted, and that was to drink deep of the water that flowed into Mimer’s well. No one save the hoary old giant himself had ever tasted the water of the Well of Wisdom; but Odin knew that without it he could never learn of things past and present and to come. So he laid aside his spear and helmet; and mounting his eight-legged horse Sleipnir, rode over the rainbow bridge to the deep grove of trees in the heart of which old Mimer sat guarding his sacred well.
Leaving Sleipnir some distance behind, Odin advanced alone; and soon came in sight of the giant seated like a stone image beside the Well of Wisdom. Mimer was so very, very old that he looked as if he had sat there ever since the beginning of time; and as Odin stood in the dimly lighted grove, he seemed to be the only living thing in all that vast stillness. The giant’s hair was white, and his beard had grown so long that it reached almost to the ground as he leaned forward with his head resting on his hand. In the other hand he held an ivory horn; but though many had passed by the sacred well, no god or mortal had ever been given a drink from Mimer’s horn.
Odin advanced slowly to the giant’s side; and the old man, who had sat for ages and ages looking down into the clear depths of the water, now raised his eyes and fixed them, not unkindly, on the waiting god. Great and wise as Odin was, being ruler of gods and men, he felt a strange awe in the presence of this hoary old Mimer, who lived long before the creation of the worlds and was living before the gods and the frost-giants engaged in their terrible warfare. As Odin approached the sacred well, Mimer was fully aware of who his visitor was, for he knew all things that ever had been, or are, or were yet to be. His eyes, so keen and piercing, looked kindly upon the god from beneath his shaggy brows; and his voice sounded soft to Odin’s ears as he said slowly:—
“What does the All-Father seek so far from sunny Asgard?”
“I have come to beg a draught from your well, O Mimer,” answered Odin.
The old giant’s face grew grave. “Whoever asks for that,” he said, “must be willing to give much in return. Many desire to drink of the waters of wisdom, but few will pay the price. What will you give in return for a draught from Mimer’s well?”
Only a moment did Odin hesitate; then he said boldly, “I will give anything you ask.” At these words Mimer handed him the ivory horn, saying: “Drink, then; and the wisdom of the ages shall be yours. But before you go hence, leave with me as a pledge one of your eyes.” So Odin drank deep of the well of wisdom; and thereafter no one in all the worlds was able to compare with the Father of the Gods in wisdom. None of the dwellers in Asgard ever questioned Odin concerning his visit to Mimer’s well; but they honoured him more deeply for the great sacrifice he had made; and whenever Odin visited the earth to mingle in the affairs of men, people knew him as the god who had but a single eye.
There was one other person besides old Mimer who was reputed to have greater wisdom than the gods, and this was the frost-giant Vafthrudner. Now Odin was very anxious to measure his knowledge with that of his old enemy, for if the frost-giants were no longer wiser than the wisest of the gods, there was less need to fear them. To put his wisdom to the test, Odin set out on the long, dreary journey to Jötunheim; and soon he found Vafthrudner sitting at the door of his snow-house. When the giant saw a visitor approaching, he stopped shaking the icicles from his frozen beard, and stared hard at the intruder. Odin had disguised himself as a traveller, so Vafthrudner did not know him and thought he was another foolish adventurer who had come to learn wisdom at the cost of his life.