Stories from Northern Myths. Emilie K. Baker
So Vafthrudner laughed until the mountains shook when Odin declared that this was the object of his journey to Jötunheim; for it amused the giant vastly to think that a mere man had come to contend with him in wisdom. He bade the stranger sit down, and Odin obeyed, pulling his slouched hat well over his eye, so that the giant might not guess who his visitor was. “Tell me,” said Vafthrudner, “the name of the river that divides Asgard from Jötunheim.”
“The river Ifing, where the waters are never frozen,” replied Odin, quickly. The frost-giant looked surprised, but he only said:—
“You have answered rightly, O Wise One. And now tell me the names of the horses that draw the chariots of Night and Day.”
“Skinfaxe and Hrimfaxe,” promptly replied Odin. Vafthrudner turned and looked hard at this remarkable stranger who could speak so readily of things that no man was thought to know. Then he asked many more questions, to which Odin gave unhesitatingly the right answers; and soon the frost-giant began to feel afraid of the strange traveller who seemed to know more than the gods themselves. Anxiously he put the last question, saying, “Tell me, O Great One, the name of the plain on which the Last Battle will be fought.” Now Vafthrudner knew that no mortal man could possibly answer this question, so he waited fearfully for Odin’s reply.
“On the plain of Vigrid, which is a hundred miles on each side,” came the answer; and at this the frost-giant began to quake with fear, for his boasted wisdom had been fairly met, and at last some one had come to Jötunheim to defeat him.
Now it was Odin’s turn to ask questions; and he drew from this wisest of the giants a knowledge of things that happened long before the gods came to dwell in Asgard. He learned all the secrets that the giants guarded so carefully; and he made Vafthrudner tell him of the dim unknown future, and of the events that would shape the lives of gods and men. So eager was Odin to gain the desired wisdom that he forgot how long he had been sitting at the frost-giant’s side and listening while Vafthrudner told him of the time when no gods were living, and of the time when no gods should be.
The long day waned, and the curious stars peeped out, and Mani—as he drove his horses over the western hills—wondered why Odin lingered so long in dreary Jötunheim. When the All-Father had learned all he desired to know, he rose up and said: “One last question I will put, O Vafthrudner; and by its answer we may judge which is the wiser of us two. What did Odin whisper in the ear of Balder as that shining one lay on the funeral pyre?” When the frost-giant heard this question he knew at last who it was that had been contending with him, and he answered humbly: “Who but thyself, O Odin, can tell the words which thou didst say to thy son? Thou art truly the wisest of all.”
So Odin departed on the long journey back to Asgard, and the gods rejoiced at his return, for hitherto no one had ever been known to strive with Vafthrudner and live.
The Story of the Magic Mead
THERE once lived on the earth a man named Kvasir; and he was much beloved by the gods because they had given him the wonderful gift of poetry. Kvasir was a great traveller, and wherever he went men begged him to tell them, in his singing words, of the life of the gods and of the brave deeds of heroes. So the poet went from cottage to castle sharing his gift with rich and poor alike. Sometimes he told the familiar tales that had grown old on men’s lips; and sometimes he sang of heroes in far-off forgotten lands.
Every one loved Kvasir—every one except the spiteful little dwarfs who grew jealous of him, and longed to do him some evil. So one day when the poet was walking on the seashore, two of the dwarfs named Fialar and Galar came up to him and begged him to visit their cave in the rocks. Now Kvasir never suspected wrong of any one, so he willingly followed the dwarfs into a dark cavern underground. Here the treacherous brothers slew him, and drained his blood into three jars in which they had already placed some honey. Thus of sweetness mingled with a poet’s life-blood they brewed the Magic Mead, which would give to any one who drank of it gentleness and wisdom and the gift of poesy.
When the dwarfs had mixed the mead, they took great care to hide it in a secret cave; and then, proud of their cruel cunning, they set off in search of further adventures. Soon they found the giant Gilling asleep on the seashore; and after pinching him awake, they asked him to row them a little way in his boat. The giant, who was both good-natured and stupid, took the dwarfs into his boat, and began to row vigorously. Then Galar suddenly steered the boat so that it struck on a sharp rock and was overturned. The poor giant, who could not swim, was immediately drowned; while the wicked little dwarfs climbed upon the keel of the boat and finally drifted ashore.
Not content with this cruel act, they went straightway to the giant’s house and called to his wife to come quickly, for Gilling was drowning. The giantess at once hurried to her husband’s aid; and as she came through the doorway, Fialar, who had climbed up above the lintel, suddenly dropped a millstone on her head, killing her instantly.
As the dwarfs were jumping up and down exulting over their success, the giant’s son—whose name was Suttung—came along. When he saw his mother stretched dead upon the ground, and the little men skipping about in their wicked glee, he guessed who was guilty of this shameful deed. So he seized Galar and Fialar, one in each hand; and, wading far out into the sea, he set them on a certain rock which was sure to be covered with water when the tide rose. As he turned to go away, the dwarfs screamed to him in terror and begged him to take them back to land. In their fright they promised to give him anything he might ask if only he would put them safe on shore.
Now Suttung had heard of the Magic Mead, and he longed very much to possess it; so he made the dwarfs promise to give him the three jars in exchange for their lives. Much as Galar and Fialar hated to do this, they had no choice but to agree to the giant’s demand; so as soon as they were on land again, they delivered the precious mead into his hands. As Suttung could not be at home all day to guard his treasure, he hid the jars in a deep recess in the rocks, and bade his daughter Gunlod watch over them night and day. The mouth of the cavern was sealed up with an enormous stone so that no one could enter except by a passageway known only to Gunlod, and Suttung felt that his treasure was safe from both gods and men.
Odin disguised as a Traveller
Meanwhile the news of Kvasir’s death had been brought to Odin by his ravens Hugin and Munin, and he determined to get possession of the wonderful mead that had been brewed from the poet’s blood. So he disguised himself as a traveller, pulled his gray hat well over his face and set out for the country where the Magic Mead was hidden. As he neared the giant’s home, he saw a field in which nine sturdy thralls[10] were mowing hay. These men did not belong to Suttung, but were the servants of his brother Baugi. This suited Odin’s purpose just as well, so he went quickly up to the thralls and said: “Your scythes seem very dull. How much faster you could work if they were sharper. Shall I whet them for you?” The men were surprised at this unexpected offer of help; but they accepted the stranger’s assistance gladly. When they found how sharp he had made their scythes, they begged him to sell or give them the marvellous whetstone. To this Odin replied, “Whoever can catch it, may have it as a gift,” and with these words he threw the stone among them. Then began a fierce battle among the thralls for the possession of the prize; and they cut at each other so fiercely with their scythes that by evening every one of them lay dead in the field.
While they were fighting thus savagely, Odin sought out Baugi’s house and begged for supper and a night’s lodging. The giant received him hospitably; and as they sat eating, word was brought to Baugi that his nine thralls were dead. For a time Odin listened to his host’s complaints of his evil luck and of how much