The Norsemen Saga
The Norsemen SagaIntroductionChapter I: The BeginningChapter II: OdinChapter III: FriggaChapter IV: ThorChapter V: TyrChapter VI: BragiChapter VII: IdunChapter VIII: NiördChapter IX: FreyChapter X: FreyaChapter XI: UllerChapter XII: ForsetiChapter XIII: HeimdallChapter XIV: HermodChapter XV: VidarChapter XVI: ValiChapter XVII: The NornsChapter XVIII: The ValkyrsChapter XIX: HelChapter XX: ÆgirChapter XXI: BalderChapter XXII: LokiChapter XXIII: The GiantsChapter XXIV: The DwarfsChapter XXV: The ElvesChapter XXVI: The Sigurd SagaChapter XXVII: The Story of FrithiofChapter XXVIII: The Twilight of the GodsChapter XXIX: Greek and Northern MythologiesCopyright
The Norsemen Saga
H. A. Guerber
Introduction
The prime importance of the rude fragments of poetry preserved in
early Icelandic literature will now be disputed by none, but there
has been until recent times an extraordinary indifference to the
wealth of religious tradition and mythical lore which they
contain.
The long neglect of these precious records of our heathen ancestors
is not the fault of the material in which all that survives of
their religious beliefs is enshrined, for it may safely be asserted
that the Edda is as rich in the essentials of national romance and
race-imagination, rugged though it be, as the more graceful and
idyllic mythology of the South. Neither is it due to anything weak
in the conception of the deities themselves, for although they may
not rise to great spiritual heights, foremost students of Icelandic
literature agree that they stand out rude and massive as the
Scandinavian mountains. They exhibit “a spirit of victory, superior
to brute force, superior to mere matter, a spirit that fights and
overcomes.”1 “Even were some part of the matter of their myths
taken from others, yet the Norsemen have given their gods a noble,
upright, great spirit, and placed them upon a high level that is
all their own.”2 “In fact these old Norse songs have a truth in
them, an inward perennial truth and greatness. It is a greatness
not of mere body and gigantic bulk, but a rude greatness of
soul.”3
The introduction of Christianity into the North brought with it the
influence of the Classical races, and this eventually supplanted
the native genius, so that the alien mythology and literature of
Greece and Rome have formed an increasing part of the mental
equipment of the northern peoples in proportion as the native
literature and tradition have been neglected.
Undoubtedly Northern mythology has exercised a deep influence upon
our customs, laws, and language, and there has been, therefore, a
great unconscious inspiration flowing from these into English
literature. The most distinctive traits of this mythology are a
peculiar grim humour, to be found in the religion of no other race,
and a dark thread of tragedy which runs throughout the whole woof,
and these characteristics, touching both extremes, are writ large
over English literature.
But of conscious influence, compared with the rich draught of
Hellenic inspiration, there is little to be found, and if we turn
to modern art the difference is even more apparent.
This indifference may be attributed to many causes, but it was due
first to the fact that the religious beliefs of our pagan ancestors
were not held with any real tenacity. Hence the success of the more
or less considered policy of the early Christian missionaries to
confuse the heathen beliefs, and merge them in the new faith, an
interesting example of which is to be seen in the transference to
the Christian festival of Easter of the attributes of the pagan
goddess Eástre, from whom it took even the name. Northern mythology
was in this way arrested ere it had attained its full development,
and the progress of Christianity eventually relegated it to the
limbo of forgotten things. Its comprehensive and intelligent
scheme, however, in strong contrast with the disconnected mythology
of Greece and Rome, formed the basis of a more or less rational
faith which prepared the Norseman to receive the teaching of
Christianity, and so helped to bring about its own undoing.
The religious beliefs of the North are not mirrored with any
exactitude in the Elder Edda. Indeed only a travesty of the faith
of our ancestors has been preserved in Norse literature. The early
poet loved allegory, and his imagination rioted among the
conceptions of his fertile muse. “His eye was fixed on the
mountains till the snowy peaks assumed human features and the giant
of the rock or the ice descended with heavy tread; or he would gaze
at the splendour of the spring, or of the summer fields, till Freya
with the gleaming necklace stepped forth, or Sif with the flowing
locks of gold.”4
We are told nothing as to sacrificial and religious rites, and all
else is omitted which does not provide material for artistic
treatment. The so-called Northern Mythology, therefore, may be
regarded as a precious relic of the beginning of Northern poetry,
rather than as a representation of the religious beliefs of the
Scandinavians, and these literary fragments bear many signs of the
transitional stage wherein the confusion of the old and new faiths
is easily apparent.
But notwithstanding the limitations imposed by long neglect it is
possible to reconstruct in part a plan of the ancient Norse
beliefs, and the general reader will derive much profit from
Carlyle’s illuminating study in “Heroes and Hero-worship.” “A
bewildering, inextricable jungle of delusions, confusions,
falsehoods and absurdities, covering the whole field of Life!” he
calls them, with all good reason. But he goes on to show, with
equal truth, that at the soul of this crude worship of distorted
nature was a spiritual force seeking expression. What we probe
without reverence they viewed with awe, and not understanding it,
straightway deified it, as all children have been apt to do in all
stages of the world’s history. Truly they were hero-worshippers
after Carlyle’s own heart, and scepticism had no place in their
simple philosophy.
It was the infancy of thought gazing upon a universe filled with
divinity, and believing heartily with all sincerity. A
large-hearted people reaching out in the dark towards ideals which
were better than they knew. Ragnarok was to undo their gods because
they had stumbled from their higher standards.
We have to thank a curious phenomenon for the preservation of so
much of the old lore as we still possess. While foreign influences
were corrupting the Norse language, it remained practically
unaltered in Iceland, which had been colonised from the mainland by
the Norsemen who had fled thither to escape the oppression of
Harold Fairhair after his crushing victory of Hafrsfirth. These
people brought with them the poetic genius which had already
manifested itself, and it took fresh root in that barren soil. Many
of the old Norse poets were natives of Iceland, and in the early
part of the Christian era, a supreme service was rendered to Norse
literature by the Christian priest, Sæmund, who industriously
brought together a large amount of pagan poetry in a collection
known as the Elder Edda, which is the chief foundation of our
present knowledge of the religion of our Norse ancestors. Icelandic
literature remained a sealed book, however, until the end of the
eighteenth century, and very slowly since that time it has been
winning its way in the teeth of indifference, until there are now
signs that it will eventually come into its own. “To know the old
Faith,” says Carlyle, “brings us into closer and clearer relation
with the Past—with our own possessions in the Past. For the whole
Past is the possession of the Present; the Past had always
something true, and is a precious possession.”
The weighty words of William Morris regarding the Volsunga Saga may
also be fitly quoted as an introduction to the whole of this
collection of “Myths of the Norsemen”: “This is the great story of
the North, which should be to all our race what the Tale of Troy
was to the Greeks—to all our race first, and afterwards, when the
change of the world has made our race nothing more than a name of
what has been—a story too—then should it be to those that come
after us no less than the Tale of Troy has been to us.”
1 “Northern Mythology,” Kauffmann.
2 Halliday Sparling.
3 Carlyle, “Heroes and Hero Worship.”
4 “Northern Mythology,” Kauffmann.
Chapter I: The Beginning
Myths of Creation
Although the Aryan inhabitants of Northern Europe are supposed by
some authorities to have come originally from the plateau of Iran,
in the heart of Asia, the climate and scenery of the countries
where they finally settled had great influence in shaping their
early religious beliefs, as well as in ordering their mode of
living.
The grand and rugged landscapes of Northern Europe, the midnight
sun, the flashing rays of the aurora borealis, the ocean
continually lashing itself into fury against the great cliffs and
icebergs of the Arctic Circle, could not but impress the people as
vividly as the almost miraculous vegetation, the perpetual light,
and the blue seas and skies of their brief summer season. It is no
great wonder, therefore, that the Icelanders, for instance, to whom
we owe the most perfect records of this belief, fancied in looking
about them that the world was originally created from a strange
mixture of fire and ice.
Northern mythology is grand and tragical. Its principal theme is
the perpetual struggle of the beneficent forces of Nature against
the injurious, and hence it is not graceful and idyllic in
character, like the religion of the sunny South, where the people
could bask in perpetual sunshine, and the fruits of the earth grew
ready to their hand.
It was very natural that the dangers incurred in hunting and
fishing under these inclement skies, and the suffering entailed by
the long cold winters when the sun never shines, made our ancestors
contemplate cold and ice as malevolent spirits; and it was with
equal reason that they invoked with special fervour the beneficent
influences of heat and light.
When questioned concerning the creation of the world, the Northern
scalds, or poets, whose songs are preserved in the Eddas and Sagas,
declared that in the beginning, when there was as yet no earth, nor
sea, nor air, when darkness rested over all, there existed a
powerful being called Allfather, whom they dimly conceived as
uncreated as well as unseen, and that whatever he willed came to
pass.
In the centre of space there was, in the morning of time, a great
abyss called Ginnunga-gap, the cleft of clefts, the yawning gulf,
whose depths no eye could fathom, as it was enveloped in perpetual
twilight. North of this abode was a space or world known as
Nifl-heim, the home of mist and darkness, in the centre of which
bubbled the exhaustless spring Hvergelmir, the seething cauldron,
whose waters supplied twelve great streams known as the Elivagar.
As the water of these streams flowed swiftly away from its source
and encountered the cold blasts from the yawning gulf, it soon
hardened into huge blocks of ice, which rolled downward into the
immeasurable depths of the great abyss with a continual roar like
thunder.
South of this dark chasm, and directly opposite Nifl-heim, the
realm of mist, was another world called Muspells-heim, the home of
elemental fire, where all was warmth and brightness, and whose
frontiers were continually guarded by Surtr, the flame giant. This
giant fiercely brandished his flashing sword, and continually sent
forth great showers of sparks, which fell with a hissing sound upon
the ice-blocks in the bottom of the abyss, and partly melted them
by their heat.
“Great Surtur, with his burning sword,
Southward at Muspel’s gate kept ward,
And flashes of celestial flame,
Life-giving, from the fire-world came.”
Valhalla (J. C. Jones).Ymir and Audhumla
As the steam rose in clouds it again encountered the prevailing
cold, and was changed into rime or hoarfrost, which, layer by
layer, filled up the great central space. Thus by the continual
action of cold and heat, and also probably by the will of the
uncreated and unseen, a gigantic creature called Ymir or Orgelmir
(seething clay), the personification of the frozen ocean, came to
life amid the ice-blocks in the abyss, and as he was born of rime
he was called a Hrim-thurs, or ice-giant.
“In early times,
When Ymir lived,
Was sand, nor sea,
Nor cooling wave;
No earth was found,
Nor heaven above;
One chaos all,
And nowhere grass.”
Sæmund’s Edda (Henderson’s tr.).
Groping about in the gloom in search of something to eat, Ymir
perceived a gigantic cow called Audhumla (the nourisher), which had
been created by the same agency as himself, and out of the same
materials. Hastening towards her, Ymir noticed with pleasure that
from her udder flowed four great streams of milk, which would
supply ample nourishment.
All his wants were thus satisfied; but the cow, looking about her
for food in her turn, began to lick the salt off a neighbouring
ice-block with her rough tongue. This she continued to do until
first the hair of a god appeared and then the whole head emerged
from its icy envelope, until by-and-by Buri (the producer) stepped
forth entirely free.
While the cow had been thus engaged, Ymir, the [4]giant, had fallen
asleep, and as he slept a son and daughter were born from the
perspiration under his armpit, and his feet produced the six-headed
giant Thrudgelmir, who, shortly after his birth, brought forth in
his turn the giant Bergelmir, from whom all the evil frost giants
are descended.
“Under the armpit grew,
’Tis said of Hrim-thurs,
A girl and boy together;
Foot with foot begat,
Of that wise Jötun,
A six-headed son.”
Sæmund’s Edda (Thorpe’s tr.).Odin, Vili, and Ve
When these giants became aware of the existence of the god Buri,
and of his son Börr (born), whom he had immediately produced, they
began waging war against them, for as the gods and giants
represented the opposite forces of good and evil, there was no hope
of their living together in peace. The struggle continued evidently
for ages, neither party gaining a decided advantage, until Börr
married the giantess Bestla, daughter of Bolthorn (the thorn of
evil), who bore him three powerful sons, Odin (spirit), Vili
(will), and Ve (holy). These three sons immediately joined their
father in his struggle against the hostile frost-giants, and
finally succeeded in slaying their deadliest foe, the great Ymir.
As he sank down lifeless the blood gushed from his wounds in such
floods that it produced a great deluge, in which all his race
perished, with the exception of Bergelmir, who escaped in a boat
and went with his wife to the confines of the world.
“And all the race of Ymir thou didst drown,
Save one, Bergelmer: he on shipboard fled
Thy deluge, and from him the giants sprang.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
Here he took up his abode, calling the place Jötunheim (the home of
the giants), and here he begat a new race of frost-giants, who
inherited his dislikes, continued the feud, and were always ready
to sally forth from their desolate country and raid the territory
of the gods.
The gods, in Northern mythology called Æsir (pillars and supporters
of the world), having thus triumphed over their foes, and being no
longer engaged in perpetual warfare, now began to look about them,
with intent to improve the desolate aspect of things and fashion a
habitable world. After due consideration Börr’s sons rolled Ymir’s
great corpse into the yawning abyss, and began to create the world
out of its various component parts.
The Creation of the Earth
Out of the flesh they fashioned Midgard (middle garden), as the
earth was called. This was placed in the exact centre of the vast
space, and hedged all round with Ymir’s eyebrows for bulwarks or
ramparts. The solid portion of Midgard was surrounded by the
giant’s blood or sweat, which formed the ocean, while his bones
made the hills, his flat teeth the cliffs, and his curly hair the
trees and all vegetation.
Well pleased with the result of their first efforts at creation,
the gods now took the giant’s unwieldy skull and poised it
skilfully as the vaulted heavens above earth and sea; then
scattering his brains throughout the expanse beneath they fashioned
from them the fleecy clouds.
“Of Ymir’s flesh
Was earth created,
Of his blood the sea,
Of his bones the hills,
Of his hair trees and plants,
Of his skull the heavens,
And of his brows
The gentle powers
Formed Midgard for the sons of men;
But of his brain
The heavy clouds are
All created.”
Norse Mythology (R. B. Anderson).
To support the heavenly vault, the gods stationed the strong
dwarfs, Nordri, Sudri, Austri, Westri, at its four corners, bidding
them sustain it upon their shoulders, and from them the four points
of the compass received their present names of North, South, East,
and West. To give light to the world thus created, the gods studded
the heavenly vault with sparks secured from Muspells-heim, points
of light which shone steadily through the gloom like brilliant
stars. The most vivid of these sparks, however, were reserved for
the manufacture of the sun and moon, which were placed in beautiful
golden chariots.
“And from the flaming world, where Muspel reigns,
Thou sent’st and fetched’st fire, and madest lights:
Sun, moon, and stars, which thou hast hung in heaven,
Dividing clear the paths of night and day.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
When all these preparations had been finished, and the steeds
Arvakr (the early waker) and Alsvin (the rapid goer) were harnessed
to the sun-chariot, the gods, fearing lest the animals should
suffer from their proximity to the ardent sphere, placed under
their withers great skins filled with air or with some refrigerant
substance. They also fashioned the shield Svalin (the cooler), and
placed it in front of the car to shelter them from the sun’s direct
rays, which would else have [7]burned them and the earth to a
cinder. The moon-car was, similarly, provided with a fleet steed
called Alsvider (the all-swift); but no shield was required to
protect him from the mild rays of the moon.Mani and Sol
The chariots were ready, the steeds harnessed and impatient to
begin what was to be their daily round, but who should guide them
along the right road? The gods looked about them, and their
attention was attracted to the two beautiful offspring of the giant
Mundilfari. He was very proud of his children, and had named them
after the newly created orbs, Mani (the moon) and Sol (the sun).
Sol, the Sun-maid, was the spouse of Glaur (glow), who was probably
one of Surtr’s sons.
The names proved to be happily bestowed, as the brother and sister
were given the direction of the steeds of their bright namesakes.
After receiving due counsel from the gods, they were transferred to
the sky, and day by day they fulfilled their appointed duties and
guided their steeds along the heavenly paths.
“Know that Mundilfær is hight
Father to the moon and sun;
Age on age shall roll away,
While they mark the months and days.”
Hávamál (W. Taylor’s tr.).
The gods next summoned Nott (night), a daughter of Norvi, one of
the giants, and entrusted to her care a dark chariot, drawn by a
sable steed, Hrim-faxi (frost mane), from whose waving mane the dew
and hoarfrost dropped down upon the earth.
“Hrim-faxi is the sable steed,
From the east who brings the night,
Fraught with the showering joys of love:
As he champs the foamy bit,
Drops of dew are scattered round
To adorn the vales of earth.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).
The goddess of night had thrice been married, and by her first
husband, Naglfari, she had had a son named Aud; by her second,
Annar, a daughter Jörd (earth); and by her third, the god Dellinger
(dawn), another son, of radiant beauty, was now born to her, and he
was given the name of Dag (day).
As soon as the gods became aware of this beautiful being’s
existence they provided a chariot for him also, drawn by the
resplendent white steed Skin-faxi (shining mane), from whose mane
bright beams of light shone forth in every direction, illuminating
all the world, and bringing light and gladness to all.
“Forth from the east, up the ascent of heaven,
Day drove his courser with the shining mane.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
The Wolves Sköll and Hati
But as evil always treads close upon the footsteps of good, hoping
to destroy it, the ancient inhabitants of the Northern regions
imagined that both Sun and Moon were incessantly pursued by the
fierce wolves Sköll (repulsion) and Hati (hatred), whose sole aim
was to overtake and swallow the brilliant objects before them, so
that the world might again be enveloped in its primeval
darkness.
“Sköll the wolf is named
That the fair-faced goddess
To the ocean chases;
Another Hati hight
He is Hrodvitnir’s son;
He the bright maid of heaven shall precede.”
Sæmuna’s Edda (Thorpe’s tr.).
At times, they said, the wolves overtook and tried to swallow their
prey, thus producing an eclipse of the radiant orbs. Then the
terrified people raised such a deafening clamour that the wolves,
frightened by the noise, hastily dropped them. Thus rescued, Sun
and Moon resumed their course, fleeing more rapidly than before,
the hungry monsters rushing along in their wake, lusting for the
time when their efforts would prevail and the end of the world
would come. For the Northern nations believed that as their gods
had sprung from an alliance between the divine element (Börr) and
the mortal (Bestla), they were finite, and doomed to perish with
the world they had made.
“But even in this early morn
Faintly foreshadowed was the dawn
Of that fierce struggle, deadly shock,
Which yet should end in Ragnarok;
When Good and Evil, Death and Life,
Beginning now, end then their strife.”
Valhalla (J. C. Jones).
Mani was accompanied also by Hiuki, the waxing, and Bil, the
waning, moon, two children whom he had snatched from earth, where a
cruel father forced them to carry water all night. Our ancestors
fancied they saw these children, the original “Jack and Jill,” with
their pail, darkly outlined upon the moon.
The gods not only appointed Sun, Moon, Day, and Night to mark the
procession of the year, but also called Evening, Midnight, Morning,
Forenoon, Noon, and Afternoon to share their duties, making Summer
and Winter the rulers of the seasons. Summer, a direct descendant
of Svasud (the mild and lovely), inherited his sire’s gentle
disposition, and was loved by all except Winter, his deadly enemy,
the son of Vindsual, himself a son of the disagreeable god Vasud,
the personification of the icy wind.
“Vindsual is the name of him
Who begat the winter’s god;
Summer from Suasuthur sprang:
Both shall walk the way of years,
Till the twilight of the gods.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).
The cold winds continually swept down from the north, chilling all
the earth, and the Northmen imagined that these were set in motion
by the great giant Hræ-svelgr (the corpse-swallower), who, clad in
eagle plumes, sat at the extreme northern verge of the heavens, and
that when he raised his arms or wings the cold blasts darted forth
and swept ruthlessly over the face of the earth, blighting all
things with their icy breath.
“Hræ-svelger is the name of him
Who sits beyond the end of heaven,
And winnows wide his eagle-wings,
Whence the sweeping blasts have birth.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).Dwarfs and Elves
While the gods were occupied in creating the earth and providing
for its illumination, a whole host of maggot-like creatures had
been breeding in Ymir’s flesh. These uncouth beings now attracted
divine attention. Summoning them into their presence, the gods
first gave them forms and endowed them with superhuman
intelligence, and then divided them into two large classes. Those
which were dark, treacherous, and cunning by nature were banished
to Svart-alfa-heim, the home of the black dwarfs, situated
underground, whence they were never allowed to come forth during
the day, under penalty of being turned into stone. They were called
Dwarfs, Trolls, Gnomes, or Kobolds, and spent all their time and
energy in exploring the secret recesses of the earth. They
collected gold, silver, and precious stones, which they stowed away
in secret crevices, whence they could withdraw them at will. The
remainder of these small creatures, including all that were fair,
good, and useful, the gods called Fairies and Elves, and they sent
them to dwell in the airy realm of Alf-heim (home of the
light-elves), situated between heaven and earth, whence they could
flit downward whenever they pleased, to attend to the plants and
flowers, sport with the birds and butterflies, or dance in the
silvery moonlight on the green.
Odin, who had been the leading spirit in all these undertakings,
now bade the gods, his descendants, follow him to the broad plain
called Idawold, far above the earth, on the other side of the great
stream Ifing, whose waters never froze.
“Ifing’s deep and murky wave
Parts the ancient sons of earth
From the dwelling of the Goths:
Open flows the mighty flood,
Nor shall ice arrest its course
While the wheel of Ages rolls.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).
In the centre of the sacred space, which from the beginning of the
world had been reserved for their own abode and called Asgard (home
of the gods), the twelve Æsir (gods) and twenty-four Asynjur
(goddesses) all assembled at the bidding of Odin. Then was held a
great council, at which it was decreed that no blood should be shed
within the limits of their realm, or peace-stead, but that harmony
should reign there for ever. As a further result of the conference
the gods set up a forge where they fashioned all their weapons and
the tools required to build the magnificent palaces of precious
metals, in which they lived for many long years in a state of such
perfect happiness that this period has been called the Golden
Age.
The Creation of Man
Although the gods had from the beginning designed Midgard, or
Mana-heim, as the abode of man, there were at first no human beings
to inhabit it. One day Odin, Vili, and Ve, according to some
authorities, or Odin, Hoenir (the bright one), and Lodur, or Loki
(fire), started out together and walked along the seashore, where
they found either two trees, the ash, Ask, and the elm, Embla, or
two blocks of wood, hewn into rude semblances of the human form.
The gods gazed at first upon the inanimate wood in silent wonder;
then, perceiving the use it could be put to, Odin gave these logs
souls, Hoenir bestowed motion and senses, and Lodur contributed
blood and blooming complexions.
Thus endowed with speech and thought, and with power to love and to
hope and to work, and with life and death, the newly created man
and woman were left to rule Midgard at will. They gradually peopled
it with their descendants, while the gods, remembering they had
called them into life, took a special interest in all they did,
watched over them, and often vouchsafed their aid and
protection.
The Tree Yggdrasil
Allfather next created a huge ash called Yggdrasil, the tree of the
universe, of time, or of life, which filled all the world, taking
root not only in the remotest depths of Nifl-heim, where bubbled
the spring Hvergelmir, but also in Midgard, near Mimir’s well (the
ocean), and in Asgard, near the Urdar fountain.
From its three great roots the tree attained such a marvellous
height that its topmost bough, called Lerad (the peace-giver),
overshadowed Odin’s hall, while the other wide-spreading branches
towered over the other worlds. An eagle was perched on the bough
Lerad, and between his eyes sat the falcon Vedfolnir, sending his
piercing glances down into heaven, earth, and Nifl-heim, and
reporting all that he saw.
As the tree Yggdrasil was ever green, its leaves never withering,
it served as pasture-ground not only for Odin’s goat Heidrun, which
supplied the heavenly mead, the drink of the gods, but also for the
stags Dain, Dvalin, Duneyr, and Durathor, from whose horns
honey-dew dropped down upon the earth and furnished the water for
all the rivers in the world.
In the seething cauldron Hvergelmir, close by the great tree, a
horrible dragon, called Nidhug, continually gnawed the roots, and
was helped in his work of destruction by countless worms, whose aim
it was to kill the tree, knowing that its death would be the signal
for the downfall of the gods.
“Through all our life a tempter prowls malignant,
The cruel Nidhug from the world below.
He hates that asa-light whose rays benignant
On th’ hero’s brow and glitt’ring sword bright glow.”
Viking Tales of the North (R. B. Anderson).
Scampering continually up and down the branches and trunk of the
tree, the squirrel Ratatosk (branch-borer), the typical busybody
and tale-bearer, passed its time repeating to the dragon below the
remarks of the eagle above, and vice versa, in the hope of stirring
up strife between them.
The Bridge Bifröst
It was, of course, essential that the tree Yggdrasil should be
maintained in a perfectly healthy condition, and this duty was
performed by the Norns, or Fates, who daily sprinkled it with the
holy waters from the Urdar fountain. This water, as it trickled
down to earth through branches and leaves, supplied the bees with
honey.
From either edge of Nifl-heim, arching high above Midgard, rose the
sacred bridge, Bifröst (Asabru, the rainbow), built of fire, water,
and air, whose quivering and changing hues it retained, and over
which the gods travelled to and fro to the earth or to the Urdar
well, at the foot of the ash Yggdrasil, where they daily assembled
in council.
“The gods arose
And took their horses, and set forth to ride
O’er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall’s watch,
To the ash Igdrasil, and Ida’s plain.
Thor came on foot, the rest on horseback rode.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
Of all the gods Thor only, the god of thunder, never passed over
the bridge, for fear lest his heavy tread or the heat of his
lightnings would destroy it. The god Heimdall kept watch and ward
there night and day. He was armed with a trenchant sword, and
carried a trumpet called Giallar-horn, upon which he generally blew
a soft note to announce the coming or going of the gods, but upon
which a terrible blast would be sounded when Ragnarok should come,
and the frost-giants and Surtr combined to destroy the world.
“Surt from the south comes
With flickering flame;
Shines from his sword
The Val-god’s sun.
The stony hills are dashed together,
The giantesses totter;
Men tread the path of Hel,
And heaven is cloven.”
Sæmund’s Edda (Thorpe’s tr.).
The Vanas
Now although the original inhabitants of heaven were the Æsir, they
were not the sole divinities of the Northern races, who also
recognised the power of the sea- and wind-gods, the Vanas, dwelling
in Vana-heim and ruling their realms as they pleased. In early
times, before the golden palaces in Asgard were built, a dispute
arose between the Æsir and Vanas, and they resorted to arms, using
rocks, mountains, and icebergs as missiles in the fray. But
discovering ere long that in unity alone lay strength, they
composed their differences and made peace, and to ratify the treaty
they exchanged hostages.
It was thus that the Van, Niörd, came to dwell in Asgard with his
two children, Frey and Freya, while the Asa, Hoenir, Odin’s own
brother, took up his abode in Vana-heim.
Chapter II: Odin
The Father of Gods and Men
Odin, Wuotan, or Woden was the highest and holiest god of the
Northern races. He was the all-pervading spirit of the universe,
the personification of the air, the god of universal wisdom and
victory, and the leader and protector of princes and heroes. As all
the gods were supposed to be descended from him, he was surnamed
Allfather, and as eldest and chief among them he occupied the
highest seat in Asgard. Known by the name of Hlidskialf, this chair
was not only an exalted throne, but also a mighty watch-tower, from
whence he could overlook the whole world and see at a glance all
that was happening among gods, giants, elves, dwarfs, and
men.
“From the hall of Heaven he rode away
To Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne,
The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world.
And far from Heaven he turned his shining orbs
To look on Midgard, and the earth, and men.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
Odin’s Personal Appearance
None but Odin and his wife and queen Frigga were privileged to use
this seat, and when they occupied it they generally gazed towards
the south and west, the goal of all the hopes and excursions of the
Northern nations. Odin was generally represented as a tall,
vigorous man, about fifty years of age, either with dark curling
hair or with a long grey beard and bald head. He was clad in a suit
of grey, with a blue hood, and his muscular body was enveloped in a
wide blue mantle flecked with grey—an emblem of the sky with its
fleecy clouds. In his hand Odin generally carried the infallible
[17]spear Gungnir, which was so sacred that an oath sworn upon its
point could never be broken, and on his finger or arm he wore the
marvellous ring, Draupnir, the emblem of fruitfulness, precious
beyond compare. When seated upon his throne or armed for the fray,
to mingle in which he would often descend to earth, Odin wore his
eagle helmet; but when he wandered peacefully about the earth in
human guise, to see what men were doing, he generally donned a
broad-brimmed hat, drawn low over his forehead to conceal the fact
that he possessed but one eye.
Two ravens, Hugin (thought) and Munin (memory), perched upon his
shoulders as he sat upon his throne, and these he sent out into the
wide world every morning, anxiously watching for their return at
nightfall, when they whispered into his ears news of all they had
seen and heard. Thus he was kept well informed about everything
that was happening on earth.
“Hugin and Munin
Fly each day
Over the spacious earth.
I fear for Hugin
That he come not back,
Yet more anxious am I for Munin.”
Norse Mythology (R. B. Anderson).
At his feet crouched two wolves or hunting hounds, Geri and Freki,
animals which were therefore considered sacred to him, and of good
omen if met by the way. Odin always fed these wolves with his own
hands from meat set before him. He required no food at all for
himself, and seldom tasted anything except the sacred mead.
“Geri and Freki
The war-wont sates,
The triumphant sire of hosts;
But on wine only
The famed in arms
Odin, ever lives.”
Lay of Grimnir (Thorpe’s tr.).
When seated in state upon his throne, Odin rested his feet upon a
footstool of gold, the work of the gods, all of whose furniture and
utensils were fashioned either of that precious metal or of
silver.
Besides the magnificent hall Glads-heim, where stood the twelve
seats occupied by the gods when they met in council, and
Valaskialf, where his throne, Hlidskialf, was placed, Odin had a
third palace in Asgard, situated in the midst of the marvellous
grove Glasir, whose shimmering leaves were of red gold.
Valhalla
This palace, called Valhalla (the hall of the chosen slain), had
five hundred and forty doors, wide enough to allow the passage of
eight hundred warriors abreast, and above the principal gate were a
boar’s head and an eagle whose piercing glance penetrated to the
far corners of the world. The walls of this marvellous building
were fashioned of glittering spears, so highly polished that they
illuminated the hall. The roof was of golden shields, and the
benches were decorated with fine armour, the god’s gifts to his
guests. Here long tables afforded ample accommodation for the
Einheriar, warriors fallen in battle, who were specially favoured
by Odin.
“Easily to be known is,
By those who to Odin come,
The mansion by its aspect.
Its roof with spears is laid,
Its hall with shields is decked,
With corselets are its benches strewed.”
Lay of Grimnir (Thorpe’s tr.).
The ancient Northern nations, who deemed warfare the most
honourable of occupations, and considered courage the greatest
virtue, worshipped Odin principally as god of battle and victory.
They believed that whenever a fight was impending he sent out his
special attendants, the shield-, battle-, or wish-maidens, called
Valkyrs (choosers of the slain), who selected from the dead
warriors one-half of their number, whom they bore on their fleet
steeds over the quivering rainbow bridge, Bifröst, into Valhalla.
Welcomed by Odin’s sons, Hermod and Bragi, the heroes were
conducted to the foot of Odin’s throne, where they received the
praise due to their valour. When some special favourite of the god
was thus brought into Asgard, Valfather (father of the slain), as
Odin was called when he presided over the warriors, would sometimes
rise from his throne and in person bid him welcome at the great
entrance gate.The Feast of the Heroes
Besides the glory of such distinction, and the enjoyment of Odin’s
beloved presence day after day, other more material pleasures
awaited the warriors in Valhalla. Generous entertainment was
provided for them at the long tables, where the beautiful
white-armed virgins, the Valkyrs, having laid aside their armour
and clad themselves in pure white robes, waited upon them with
assiduous attention. These maidens, nine in number according to
some authorities, brought the heroes great horns full of delicious
mead, and set before them huge portions of boar’s flesh, upon which
they feasted heartily. The usual Northern drink was beer or ale,
but our ancestors fancied this beverage too coarse for the heavenly
sphere. They therefore imagined that Valfather kept his table
liberally supplied with mead or hydromel, which was daily furnished
in great abundance [20]by his she-goat Heidrun, who continually
browsed on the tender leaves and twigs on Lerad, Yggdrasil’s
topmost branch.
“Rash war and perilous battle, their delight;
And immature, and red with glorious wounds,
Unpeaceful death their choice: deriving thence
A right to feast and drain immortal bowls,
In Odin’s hall; whose blazing roof resounds
The genial uproar of those shades who fall
In desperate fight, or by some brave attempt.”
Liberty (James Thomson).
The meat upon which the Einheriar feasted was the flesh of the
divine boar Sæhrimnir, a marvellous beast, daily slain by the cook
Andhrimnir, and boiled in the great cauldron Eldhrimnir; but
although Odin’s guests had true Northern appetites and gorged
themselves to the full, there was always plenty of meat for
all.
“Andhrimnir cooks
In Eldhrimnir
Sæhrimnir;
’Tis the best of flesh;
But few know
What the einherjes eat.”
Lay of Grimnir (Anderson’s version).
Moreover, the supply was exhaustless, for the boar always came to
life again before the time of the next meal. This miraculous
renewal of supplies in the larder was not the only wonderful
occurrence in Valhalla, for it is related that the warriors, after
having eaten and drunk to satiety, always called for their weapons,
armed themselves, and rode out into the great courtyard, where they
fought against one another, repeating the feats of arms for which
they were famed on earth, and recklessly dealing terrible wounds,
which, however, were miraculously and completely healed as soon as
the dinner horn sounded.
“All the chosen guests of Odin
Daily ply the trade of war;
From the fields of festal fight
Swift they ride in gleaming arms,
And gaily, at the board of gods,
Quaff the cup of sparkling ale
And eat Sæhrimni’s vaunted flesh.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).
Whole and happy at the sound of the horn, and bearing one another
no grudge for cruel thrusts given and received, the Einheriar would
ride gaily back to Valhalla to renew their feasts in Odin’s beloved
presence, while the white-armed Valkyrs, with flying hair, glided
gracefully about, constantly filling their horns or their favourite
drinking vessels, the skulls of their enemies, while the scalds
sang of war and of stirring Viking forays.
“And all day long they there are hack’d and hewn
’Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood;
But all at night return to Odin’s hall
Woundless and fresh: such lot is theirs in heaven.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
Fighting and feasting thus, the heroes were said to spend their
days in perfect bliss, while Odin delighted in their strength and
number, which, however, he foresaw would not avail to prevent his
downfall when the day of the last battle should dawn.
As such pleasures were the highest a Northern warrior’s fancy could
paint, it was very natural that all fighting men should love Odin,
and early in life should dedicate themselves to his service. They
vowed to die arms in hand, if possible, and even wounded themselves
with their own spears when death drew near, if they had been
unfortunate enough to escape death on the battlefield and were
threatened with “straw death,” as they called decease from old age
or sickness.
“To Odin then true-fast
Carves he fair runics,—
Death-runes cut deep on his arm and his breast.”
Viking Tales of the North (R. B. Anderson).
In reward for this devotion Odin watched with special care over his
favourites, giving them gifts, a magic sword, a spear, or a horse,
and making them invincible until their last hour had come, when he
himself appeared to claim or destroy the gift he had bestowed, and
the Valkyrs bore the heroes to Valhalla.
“He gave to Hermod
A helm and corselet,
And from him Sigmund
A sword received.”
Lay of Hyndla (Thorpe’s tr.).Sleipnir
When Odin took an active part in war, he generally rode his
eight-footed grey steed, Sleipnir, and bore a white shield. His
glittering spear flung over the heads of the combatants was the
signal for the fray to commence, and he would dash into the midst
of the ranks shouting his warcry: “Odin has you all!”
“And Odin donned
His dazzling corslet and his helm of gold,
And led the way on Sleipnir.”
Balder Dead (Matthew Arnold).
At times he used his magic bow, from which he would shoot ten
arrows at once, every one invariably bringing down a foe. Odin was
also supposed to [23]inspire his favourite warriors with the
renowned “Berserker rage” (bare sark or shirt), which enabled them,
although naked, weaponless, and sore beset, to perform unheard-of
feats of valour and strength, and move about as with charmed
lives.
As Odin’s characteristics, like the all-pervading elements, were
multitudinous, so also were his names, of which he had no less than
two hundred, almost all descriptive of some phase of his
activities. He was considered the ancient god of seamen and of the
wind.
“Mighty Odin,
Norsemen hearts we bend to thee!
Steer our barks, all-potent Woden,
O’er the surging Baltic Sea.”
Vail.The Wild Hunt
Odin, as wind-god, was pictured as rushing through mid-air on his
eight-footed steed, from which originated the oldest Northern
riddle, which runs as follows: “Who are the two who ride to the
Thing? Three eyes have they together, ten feet, and one tail: and
thus they travel through the lands.” And as the souls of the dead
were supposed to be wafted away on the wings of the storm, Odin was
worshipped as the leader of all disembodied spirits. In this
character he was most generally known as the Wild Huntsman, and
when people heard the rush and roar of the wind they cried aloud in
superstitious fear, fancying they heard and saw him ride past with
his train, all mounted on snorting steeds, and accompanied by
baying hounds. And the passing of the Wild Hunt, known as Woden’s
Hunt, the Raging Host, Gabriel’s Hounds, or Asgardreia, was also
considered a presage of such misfortune as pestilence or war.
[24]
“The Rhine flows bright; but its waves ere long
Must hear a voice of war,
And a clash of spears our hills among,
And a trumpet from afar;
And the brave on a bloody turf must lie,
For the Huntsman hath gone by!”
The Wild Huntsman (Mrs. Hemans).
It was further thought that if any were so sacrilegious as to join
in the wild halloo in mockery, they would be immediately snatched
up and whirled away with the vanishing host, while those who joined
in the halloo with implicit good faith would be rewarded by the
sudden gift of a horse’s leg, hurled at them from above, which, if
carefully kept until the morrow, would be changed into a lump of
gold.
Even after the introduction of Christianity the ignorant Northern
folk still dreaded the on-coming storm, declaring that it was the
Wild Hunt sweeping across the sky.
“And ofttimes will start,
For overhead are sweeping Gabriel’s hounds,
Doomed with their impious lord the flying hart
To chase forever on aëreal grounds.”
Sonnet (Wordsworth).
Sometimes it left behind a small black dog, which, cowering and
whining upon a neighbouring hearth, had to be kept for a whole year
and carefully tended unless it could be exorcised or frightened
away. The usual recipe, the same as for the riddance of
changelings, was to brew beer in egg-shells, and this performance
was supposed so to startle the spectral dog that he would fly with
his tail between his legs, exclaiming that, although as old as the
Behmer, or Bohemian forest, he had never before beheld such an
uncanny sight.
“I am as old
As the Behmer wold,
And have in my life
Such a brewing not seen.”
Old Saying (Thorpe’s tr.)
The object of this phantom hunt varied greatly, and was either a
visonary boar or wild horse, white-breasted maidens who were caught
and borne away bound only once in seven years, or the wood nymphs,
called Moss Maidens, who were thought to represent the autumn
leaves torn from the trees and whirled away by the wintry
gale.
In the middle ages, when the belief in the old heathen deities was
partly forgotten, the leader of the Wild Hunt was no longer Odin,
but Charlemagne, Frederick Barbarossa, King Arthur, or some
Sabbath-breaker, like the Squire of Rodenstein or Hans von
Hackelberg, who, in punishment for his sins, was condemned to hunt
for ever through the realms of air.
As the winds blew fiercest in autumn and winter, Odin was supposed
to prefer hunting during that season, especially during the time
between Christmas and Twelfth-night, and the peasants were always
careful to leave the last sheaf or measure of grain out in the
fields to serve as food for his horse.
This hunt was of course known by various names in the different
countries of Northern Europe; but as the tales told about it are
all alike, they evidently originated in the same old heathen
belief, and to this day ignorant people of the North fancy that the
baying of a hound on a stormy night is an infallible presage of
death.
“Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,
Till time itself shall have an end;
By day, they scour earth’s cavern’d space,
At midnight’s witching hour, ascend.
“This is the horn, and hound, and horse
That oft the lated peasant hears;
Appall’d, he signs the frequent cross,
When the wild din invades his ears.
“The wakeful priest oft drops a tear
For human pride, for human woe,
When, at his midnight mass, he hears
The infernal cry of ‘Holla, ho!’”
Sir Walter Scott.
The Wild Hunt, or Raging Host of Germany, was called Herlathing in
England, from the mythical king Herla, its supposed leader; in
Northern France it bore the name of Mesnée d’Hellequin, from Hel,
goddess of death; and in the middle ages it was known as Cain’s
Hunt or Herod’s Hunt, these latter names being given because the
leaders were supposed to be unable to find rest on account of the
iniquitous murders of Abel, of John the Baptist, and of the Holy
Innocents.
In Central France the Wild Huntsman, whom we have already seen in
other countries as Odin, Charlemagne, Barbarossa, Rodenstein, von
Hackelberg, King Arthur, Hel, one of the Swedish kings, Gabriel,
Cain, or Herod, is also called the Great Huntsman of Fontainebleau
(le Grand Veneur de Fontainebleau), and people declare that on the
eve of Henry IV.’s murder, and also just before the outbreak of the
great French Revolution, his shouts were distinctly heard as he
swept across the sky.
It was generally believed among the Northern nations that the soul
escaped from the body in the shape of a mouse, which crept out of a
corpse’s mouth and ran away, and it was also said to creep in and
out of the mouths of people in a trance. While the soul was absent,
no effort or remedy could recall the patient to life; but as soon
as it had come back animation returned. [27]The Pied Piper
As Odin was the leader of all disembodied spirits, he was
identified in the middle ages with the Pied Piper of Hamelin.
According to mediæval legends, Hamelin was so infested by rats that
life became unbearable, and a large reward was offered to any who
would rid the town of these rodents. A piper, in parti-coloured
garments, offered to undertake the commission, and the terms being
accepted, he commenced to play through the streets in such wise
that, one and all, the rats were beguiled out of their holes until
they formed a vast procession. There was that in the strains which
compelled them to follow, until at last the river Weser was
reached, and all were drowned in its tide.
“And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives—
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser,
Wherein all plunged and perished!”
Robert Browning.
As the rats were all dead, and there was no chance of their
returning to plague them, the people of Hamelin refused to pay the
reward, and they bade the piper do his worst. He took them at their
word, and a few [28]moments later the weird strains of the magic
flute again arose, and this time it was the children who swarmed
out of the houses and merrily followed the piper.
“There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling;
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,
Out came all the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.”
Robert Browning.
The burghers were powerless to prevent the tragedy, and as they
stood spellbound the piper led the children out of the town to the
Koppelberg, a hill on the confines of the town, which miraculously
opened to receive the procession, and only closed again when the
last child had passed out of sight. This legend probably originated
the adage “to pay the piper.” The children were never seen in
Hamelin again, and in commemoration of this public calamity all
official decrees have since been dated so many years after the Pied
Piper’s visit.
“They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If, after the day of the month and year,
These words did not as well appear,
’And so long after what happened here
On the Twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:’
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children’s last retreat,
They called it the Pied Piper Street—
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labour.”
Robert Browning.
In this myth Odin is the piper, the shrill tones of the flute are
emblematic of the whistling wind, the rats represent the souls of
the dead, which cheerfully follow him, and the hollow mountain into
which he leads the children is typical of the grave.Bishop Hatto
Another German legend which owes its existence to this belief is
the story of Bishop Hatto, the miserly prelate, who, annoyed by the
clamours of the poor during a time of famine, had them burned alive
in a deserted barn, like the rats whom he declared they resembled,
rather than give them some of the precious grain which he had laid
up for himself.
“‘I’ faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire!’ quoth he,
‘And the country is greatly obliged to me
For ridding it in these times forlorn
Of rats that only consume the corn.’”
Robert Southey.
Soon after this terrible crime had been accomplished the bishop’s
retainers reported the approach of a vast swarm of rats. These, it
appears, were the souls of the murdered peasants, which had assumed
the forms of the rats to which the bishop had likened them. His
efforts to escape were vain, and the rats pursued him even into the
middle of the Rhine, to a stone tower in which he took refuge from
their fangs. They swam to the tower, gnawed their way through the
stone walls, and, pouring in on all sides at once, they found the
bishop and devoured him alive.
“And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls, helter-skelter they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the stones;
And now they pick the Bishop’s bones;
They gnaw’d the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment on him!”
Robert Southey.
The red glow of the sunset above the Rat Tower near Bingen on the
Rhine is supposed to be the reflection of the hell fire in which
the wicked bishop is slowly roasting in punishment for his heinous
crime.
Irmin
In some parts of Germany Odin was considered to be identical with
the Saxon god Irmin, whose statue, the Irminsul, near Paderborn,
was destroyed by Charlemagne in 772. Irmin was said to possess a
ponderous brazen chariot, in which he rode across the sky along the
path which we know as the Milky Way, but which the ancient Germans
designated as Irmin’s Way. This chariot, whose rumbling sound
occasionally became perceptible to mortal ears as thunder, never
left the sky, where it can still be seen in the constellation of
the Great Bear, which is also known in the North as Odin’s, or
Charles’s, Wain.
“The Wain, who wheels on high
His circling course, and on Orion waits;
Sole star that never bathes in the Ocean wave.”
Homer’s Iliad (Derby’s tr.).
Mimir’s Well
To obtain the great wisdom for which he is so famous, Odin, in the
morn of time, visited Mimir’s (Memor, memory) spring, “the fountain
of all wit and wisdom,” in whose liquid depths even the future was
clearly mirrored, and besought the old man who guarded it to let
him have a draught. But Mimir, who well knew the value of such a
favour (for his spring was considered the source or headwater of
memory), refused the boon unless Odin would consent to give one of
his eyes in exchange.
The god did not hesitate, so highly did he prize the draught, but
immediately plucked out one of his eyes, which Mimir kept in
pledge, sinking it deep down into his fountain, where it shone with
mild lustre, leaving Odin with but one eye, which is considered
emblematic of the sun.
“Through our whole lives we strive towards the sun;
That burning forehead is the eye of Odin.
His second eye, the moon, shines not so bright;
It has he placed in pledge in Mimer’s fountain,
That he may fetch the healing waters thence,
Each morning, for the strengthening of this eye.”
Oehlenschläger (Howitt’s tr.).
Drinking deeply of Mimir’s fount, Odin gained the knowledge he
coveted, and he never regretted the sacrifice he had made, but as
further memorial of that day broke off a branch of the sacred tree
Yggdrasil, which overshadowed the spring, and fashioned from it his
beloved spear Gungnir.
“A dauntless god
Drew for drink to its gleam,
Where he left in endless
Payment the light of an eye.
From the world-ash
Ere Wotan went he broke a bough;
For a spear the staff
He split with strength from the stem.”
Dusk of the Gods, Wagner (Forman’s tr.).
But although Odin was now all-wise, he was sad and oppressed, for
he had gained an insight into futurity, [32]and had become aware of
the transitory nature of all things, and even of the fate of the
gods, who were doomed to pass away. This knowledge so affected his
spirits that he ever after wore a melancholy and contemplative
expression.
To test the value of the wisdom he had thus obtained, Odin went to
visit the most learned of all the giants, Vafthrudnir, and entered
with him into a contest of wit, in which the stake was nothing less
than the loser’s head.
“Odin rose with speed, and went
To contend in runic lore
With the wise and crafty Jute.
To Vafthrudni’s royal hall
Came the mighty king of spells.”
Vafthrudni’s-mal (W. Taylor’s tr.).Odin and Vafthrudnir
On this occasion Odin had disguised himself as a Wanderer, by
Frigga’s advice, and when asked his name declared it was Gangrad.
The contest of wit immediately began, Vafthrudnir questioning his
guest concerning the horses which carried Day and Night across the
sky, the river Ifing separating Jötun-heim from Asgard, and also
about Vigrid, the field where the last battle was to be
fought.