At this point, perhaps I should say a few words about Odin and Loki, who is not Odin's son but with whom he has a complex connection. As I see it, between the boundaries of the creation of Midgard and the final battle of Ragnarök that will end the world we know, the gods exist in an eternal present from which they move in and out of our chronological time. Thus all the myths, including Odin's sacrifice at the Well and his ordeal upon the Tree, are simultaneously occurring. Although a time will come when Loki is the enemy, in the Younger Edda he is always listed among the gods. In Lokasenna 9, Loki reminds Odin that they are “blood brothers,” and that Odin promised that if he had a drink, he would share it. The story of how this happened is lost, but the relationship is clearly an important one. For this reason, even in kindreds where Loki is not explicitly recognized, some Heathens will sprinkle a little of whatever is being offered to Odin on the candle or into the hearth.
When we contemplate Odin as All-father, we need to realize that his role in creation was not that of a clockmaker who sets up his machinery and leaves it to run. He is an active force in our development, inviting us to participate in the coevolution of the world. Michaela Macha's poem “Who Started It All?” (2004) expresses the relationship.
So who
started it all
did you begin
with Ask and Embla
or did we shape you, Shape-Shifter?
a mirror reflecting a mirror
anyone's guess
but do we need you? Or you us?
To survive
love isn't needed,
nor laughter, friendship nor gods
but to live
dearly we need them.
Did you call me, or did I
visit you uninvited?
Do I follow, or do you
watch me from behind?
It is no matter
as I bring you my sacrifice
I don't know who started it all, but
let's finish it
together.
Father of Gods and Kings
In Gyrlfaginning 19, Snorri (1987) tells us, “Odin is highest and most ancient of the Æsir. He rules all things, and mighty though the other gods are, yet they all submit to him like children to their father.” Personally, I tend to doubt that the other gods are always that submissive—I can imagine some pretty heated discussions at those judgment seats by the Well.
Whether the relationships are part of the original stories or were assumed as gods from different Heathen tribes were amalgamated into the mythology, at various points in the lore, Thor, Heimdall, Tyr, Baldr, Hermod, Höd, Váli, and Vidar are all said to be Odin's sons.
Thor
Thor, god of storm and thunder, is Odin's son by Jordh, a giantess whose name means “earth.” Her importance is indicated by the fact that Thor is often identified as “Son of Earth” rather than as “Son of Odin.” We have no story about how this happened, but to me, the fact that Bjorn, “Bear,” is given as a byname both for Thor and for Odin is suggestive. Decorated bear skulls found in Paleolithic burials indicate an ancient reverence, and the bear was held to be sacred to the goddess of the earth in a number of cultures. I imagine the two of them meeting in the form of bears.
Odin's byname of Raudgrani, “red moustache,” explains how Thor came by his red hair, but by the time they meet in Hárbardsljodh, the only story describing their interaction, Odin is Hárbard (“Hoar beard”).
There is yet another way in which we can view the birth of Thor. In general I avoid interpreting the myths as explanations of natural phenomena, but when I was doing some research on Thor, I found a fascinating meteorological analysis of the cause of lightning and thunder. Translating it back into mythic terms produced the following description of Jordh's encounter with Odin from her point of view.
Well, you have to understand—it was a long time ago, and we were different then. Talking to you humans, we've learned to see ourselves in different ways. But back then . . . we were forces, we were feelings. And the worlds were in flux—we acted and reacted as the situation changed.
In those days, I did not have a name. I knew that I was. I felt the impact of stones from the sky that vaporized my rock and released the water that had been locked within. I felt the explosions of heat from within. Heat and Cold . . . Fire and Ice . . . and as they warred, the first teasing touch of the wind . . .
Oh . . . that wind . . . and the Voice that called my name . . .
The wind touched me, courted me, coaxing the moisture from my cracks and hollows until the droplets of water swirled upward and became clouds. As the wind shaped them, I could sense a tension growing between the warmer foundations of the clouds and the chill towers that reached for the sky. The energy in those lower areas repelled me. I felt my own tension growing. I wanted . . . something . . . and I could feel that something was changing in the upper air.
The clouds were moving, creating a channel of energy. Once more I heard that Voice, calling, compelling, crying out my name.
And I reached out, up, with all my might. My Power touched His and completed the connection. And then . . . human words cannot convey the glory, the ecstasy as I received the discharge of His Power in an explosion of incandescent air.
The shockwave that was the joining of our voices reverberated in the first clap of thunder, as Thunder, the Son of Earth, was born. And as the echoes faded, I felt the cool kiss of falling rain.
Heimdall
Heimdall, whom we know primarily as the god whose supernatural sight and hearing enable him to guard Asgard, is the son of nine mothers. They are giantesses, and according to Snorri, the nine waves are the daughters of the giant Aegir, who rules the deeps of the ocean. However, their names are unfortunately not the same as the names listed for Heimdall's mothers in the Shorter Seeress's Prophec (Orchard 2011).
It is, however, possible to speculate on how Heimdall might have been begotten. In Harbardsljodh, Odin boasts that he slept with seven witchy sisters in a distant land. To connect with Aegir's daughters, however, he would have had to give himself to the waves, which seems to me just the kind of expansion of experience Odin would have sought in his wanderings.
In the poem Rígsthula, Heimdall, under the name of Rig, is also said to have sired the three social classes: thrall (serf or slave), carl (farmer), and eorl (ruler). Presumably, this was during a period of wandering before he settled down as watchman of Asgard. It is a story that in general seems more typical of Odin, especially when we see that Kon (king) the youngest son of Eorl, turns out to be a master of rune lore, rivaling Ríg himself. Kon is either the grandson or the great-grandson of Odin. As he is out hunting, a crow counsels him to seek the warrior path, and according to a note in Hollander's translation of Rígsthula (1986), he eventually becomes the founder of the royal line of Denmark.
Tyr
As with Heimdall, the claim of Tyr to be a son of Odin rests on a simple statement by Snorri in the Younger Edda. The only surviving story that mentions Tyr's parentage is Hymiskvidha, in which Tyr and Thor journey to the hall of Hymir, who is either Tyr's father or grandfather, to obtain a cauldron big enough for Aegir to brew sufficient ale for all the gods. Tyr's mother is a “golden girl,” perhaps a goddess, who is not named.
Although only two stories about him survive in the Eddas, unlike Heimdall, Tyr is a god who has been known since Roman times. His name, coming from the same root that gave us the names of Zeus and Jupiter, suggests that he may have been the original sky god. Given that Odin himself is the son of a giantess, the jotun parentage ascribed to Tyr in Hymiskvidha may itself be evidence of his antiquity.
Baldr and Hermod
Other than Thor, Baldr is the best known son of Odin. In Gylfaginning 22, Baldr, Odin's only offspring by his wife Frigg, is portrayed by Snorri as “so fair in appearance and so bright that light shines from him. . . . He is the wisest of the Æsir and most beautifully spoken and most merciful, but it is one of his characteristics that none of his decisions can be fulfilled.”
The Icelandic version of the story, pieces of which appear in several places in the Elder Edda and in full in the Younger, begins when Baldr starts having bad dreams. Odin responds by riding to the gate of Hel, where he uses his necromantic spells to summon up the ancient Völva who is buried there and ask her what's going on. Complaining, she rises, and proceeds to tell him not only that Hella is brewing the beer and decorating the hall to welcome Baldr, but also that Baldr's killer will be his own half-brother, Höd, and his avenger another son of Odin, Váli, who has not yet even been begotten.
The great mystery is why Odin, returning with this information, does nothing to stop the tragedy. Frigg does better, wandering the world to take the oaths of all beings not to hurt her son, but for some reason she tells the first person who asks that there is one being that did not swear, the insignificant mistletoe. When the gods, in a fine display of Viking humor, test Baldr's protection by throwing things at him, Loki attaches a dart of mistletoe to an arrow and guides the aim of the blind god Höd.
Baldr drops dead, and everyone gathers for a magnificent funeral. Frigg promises to reward Hermod if he will ride to Hel and beg Hella to release her son. Baldr greets him as a brother, but it is unclear whether Hermod is a son of Odin or a human hero in the service of the gods. Hella's condition for releasing Baldr is that all things must weep for him. One giantess refuses, so until Ragnarök, Baldr must stay where he is.
The story goes that as Baldr lay on his funeral pyre, Odin bent over the body to whisper in his ear. The nature of that message becomes the most famous trivia question in Norse literature, revealing Odin's identity and giving him victory in more than one riddle contest, since he is the only one who knows the answer.
This has not stopped people from speculating. One popular interpretation is that Odin's farewell to his son is a promise that Baldr will be safe in Hel until Ragnarök releases its inhabitants, when he will return to reign over a world that has been reborn.
But the price both of them must pay is that unless they pass on the road to Hel, Baldr—among all of Odin's offspring—is the one child All-father will never see again.
Höd, Váli, and Vidar
Saxo's Hotherus is a mighty human warrior with a magic sword who kills his rival Balderus in battle. In his Eddic incarnation as Höd, he is a son of Odin and he is blind. We are not told the identity of his mother. He, too, ends up in Hel, and after Ragnarök is destined to return with Baldr to rule over the new world.
The god who avenges Baldr is called Váli, specifically begotten for that purpose by Odin on the goddess or princess Rind, possibly against her will but in accordance with the Völva's prophecy. We will take another look at this incident in the chapter on Bölverk. The newborn, Váli, is transformed in one night into a warrior who goes unshorn and uncombed until he has killed Höd.
Vidar, often paired with Váli for purposes of alliteration, is Odin's son by the giantess Grid. Kennings for him given in Skaldskaparmál include “silent god,” “owner of the iron shoe,” “enemy and killer of the Fenris wolf,” and “vengeance-god of the gods.” His destiny is to avenge his father after Odin has been killed by Fenris, either by killing the wolf with a sword or by ripping apart its jaws. Along with Höd and Váli, he will survive Ragnarök.
Brünnhilde
The most powerful portrayal of Odin as a father is not in the Eddas, but in Wagner's opera Die Walküre. Brünnhilde, leader of the valkyrie daughters borne to Wotan by the earth goddess Erda, is his favorite, his confidant, the mirror of his soul to whom he can open his heart as a lifetime of marital warfare prevents him from doing with his wife Fricka.
Brünnhilde, caught in the middle of their sparring, defends Wotan's mortal son Sigmund, which is what she knows Wotan wants, rather than protecting Hunding, whom Wotan's own laws force him to support.
Furious at himself as much as at her, Wotan pursues and condemns Brünnhilde with a godly wrath. The end of act 3, in which she begs him to give her to a hero instead of leaving her the prey of a common man, is one of the most soul-wrenching scenes in opera, more profoundly moving than most operatic love scenes I have seen. As Wotan and Brünnhilde sing their pain and their love, the tension mounts, until at last he breaks and becomes the loving father once more. The past cannot be undone, but Wotan has forgiven her and leaves her surrounded by a wall of flame that only the greatest of heroes can cross.
Humans
In her famous analysis of Wagner's Ring operas, musical comedienne Anna Russell observes that Wotan fathered the twins Sigmund and Sieglinde “under the singularly appropriate name of Wolf!” Apparently, Odin's encounters were not limited to giantesses.
However it was accomplished, in the Germanic countries, Odin, or Woden, appears at the top of a remarkable number of royal family trees. In Scandinavia, his offspring include Sigi, ancestor of the Volsungs (Volsungasaga); Scyld Scefing, ancestor of the Danish royal line (Ynglingasaga); the Geats and the Amelung Goths (Jordanes' Getica); and Sigrlami, king of Gardariki (Hervararsaga). In Ynglingasaga 8, we learn that after separating from Njord, Skadi took up with Odin and bore him several sons, including Saeming, ancestor of Jarl Hákon.
In volume 1 of his Teutonic Mythology, Grimm (1966, 165) includes the genealogies of the Anglo-Saxon kings. In England, Woden was listed in genealogies compiled during the 7th to 9th centuries in Bede's Historia Ecclesiastica, the Historia Brittonum, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Anglo-Saxon kings claiming descent from Woden who are mentioned in both the prologue to the Younger Edda and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle include Wecta, ancestor of Hengest and the kings of Kent; Beldeg, ancestor of the kings of Wessex; Wihtlæg and Casere in Anglia; Winta, in Lindisfarne; and Seaxneat in Essex. All of these give Odin a good claim to another of his names, Veratýr (“God of Men”).
In “An Eye for Odin? Divine Role-Playing in the Age of Sutton Hoo,” Neil Price and Paul Mortimer discuss a number of archaeological finds, starting with the famous Sutton Hoo helmet, in which the left eye of an image, mask, or helmet has been crafted or altered so that it appears to be missing. Experiments with a replica of the Sutton-Hoo helmet have shown that “seen indoors by the flickering light of the fire, the wearer of the Sutton Hoo helmet was one-eyed” (Price and Mortimer 2014, 522). They conclude that a resemblance to Odin was intended to support the mystique of kingship.
Fig. 11. Reproduction of the Sutton Hoo Helmet
Odin's Godchildren
Identifying oneself as a child of Odin is not the sole prerogative of kings. Many of those who are drawn to work with him today characterize their relationship as that of a child to a parent,, although not necessarily an obedient one, as we see in this poem by Laurel Mendes.
All father, my father, old friend new found.
The chosen now chooses to be daughter once more.
Not obedient, but most obstinate,
Shared among many, not singular, not solemn.
Such will my dedication be to you.
Yet I will do what I can for your children's aid.
When am I able I will walk with you.
Thor give me the strength in my limbs to move forward,
Freya give me grace and truth in my heart
Sif give me kindly words for my lips to utter
Frigga lend my will your steely resolve
This is the service that is now mine to offer
So, tell me, old man, do we have a deal?
James Hodur describes his relationship with Odin thus:
I thought I'd share how I view Óðinn, the All-Father. To me, Óðinn is a grandfather figure. He's a grandfather who has a past. He has seen war, tragedy and has those scars in him. He doesn't let those scars rule him. Like any grand
father or family member, he can be kind and loving. But he can also be cruel and uncaring. It's a part of life and any familial relationship. I also see Óðinn as a teacher. He inspires and rewards me with many ideas and thoughts. But he can be a challenging taskmaster and present me with problems to solve. And I must show my work.
To say my relationship with Óðinn is an easy one is far from the truth. To say I haven't experienced other aspects of Óðinn in my life is an understatement. Our relationship is as varied and complex as he is. It takes on many facets and probably will continue to as we grow together.
When a Power has as many names and as many masks as Odin, there are obviously going to be many ways of working with him. The relationship of child to parent is one of the most positive. Many Heathens refer to the gods as our Elder Kin. To call ourselves children of Odin is not a claim to divinity but rather a recognition that we have a lot to learn. Being willing to accept the god's lessons can be another matter.
A person may have a number of reasons to relate to Odin as his child. Those who had good relationships with their fathers might seek in him a spiritual parent who will continue and extend the support and instruction they remember from childhood. Those whose fathers failed them may be seeking the love they never knew. However, one responsibility of a father is to encourage and, if necessary, to force his children to grow. Odin never asks of us more than he demands of himself—of course what he asks of himself is a great deal. If what we get at first is “tough love,” we have to believe that beneath it is a boundless compassion. All-father may not take the hard tasks and choices from us, but he will share the pain.
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