Myths of the Norsemen

by Roger Green

  In Folkvanger Freya and Odur lived happily for long, and they had two lovely daughters as fair as jewels, whose joy was in all beautiful things.

  But a great sadness came to Freya, all the more sad because it was her own fault – though she never thought that her love of jewels could harm her happiness with Odur.

  It happened that Freya wandered through Midgard and through Alfheim where her brother Frey ruled, and she came to the borders of Svartalfheim where the Black Dwarfs lived.

  There Dvalin and his three brothers laid a trap for her. They set up their forge in the opening of a wide cave and made the most wonderful necklace of gold that was ever seen: and it was called Brisingamen, the Brising Necklace.

  Freya stopped when she saw the Dwarfs, and caught her breath at the beauty of the necklace. Then she stood for a while watching them at their work, until the necklace was finished.

  ‘Will you sell me that necklace for a treasure of silver?’ she asked. ‘For indeed I have never seen a fairer one, and I cannot live without it.’

  ‘No,’ answered the Dwarfs, ‘all the silver in the world would not buy from us the Brisingamen.’

  ‘Will you sell it to me for a treasure of gold?’ asked Freya.

  ‘No,’ answered the Dwarfs. ‘All the gold in the world would not buy it from us.’

  ‘Then is there any treasure in the world for which you would sell me that necklace?’ asked Freya. ‘For now that I have seen Brisingamen, life without it is not to be endured.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ answered the Dwarfs. ‘There is a treasure for which we would sell Brisingamen. You must buy it from each of us. That treasure is your love. To each of us you must be wedded for a day and a night – for of such short space is a marriage among the Dwarfs of Svartalfheim – and then Brisingamen shall be yours.’

  Then Freya, in her madness, forgot all but the shimmer and the gleam of the world’s most lovely adornment, the Brisingamen, than which no fairer necklace has ever been seen. She forgot Odur her husband, she forgot her two fair daughters, she forgot that she was a queen among the Æsir.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, as if in a dream, ‘for Brisingamen I would even wed with such as you.’

  So the four Dwarfish weddings were held in distant Svartalfheim, and none of the Æsir knew what was happening – none that is but Loki the mischief-maker who seemed always to know where evil was brewing.

  When Freya came back to Asgard, and dwelt once more in her palace in Folkvanger, she was ashamed of what she had done and hid the Brisingamen from the sight of everyone. But alone in her bower, which no one could enter against her will, she would take out the necklace and feast her eyes on its gleaming beauty.

  But Loki went to Odur and told him what he had seen and heard. Odur would not believe him, and he thought it shame even to mention to Freya what Loki had said.

  ‘I do not even believe that she has this necklace called Brisingamen,’ ended Odur. ‘But if she has, and you can steal it from her and show it to me, I will believe your story, and my heart will be broken.’

  ‘It will be very hard to steal it,’ protested Loki. ‘You know how closely the door of Freya’s bower fits, and how firmly it is locked from within!’

  ‘If you do not prove your lying tale by the only means which I can accept,’ cried Odur, ‘I shall know it is a lie, and Thor shall beat you into pulp with his hammer Miolnir.’

  So Loki set out to steal the Brising Necklace. He came by night to Freya’s bower, but found the door fast locked, and with all his cunning he could not open it. Then he turned himself into a fly and fluttered about all the locks and joints, and found there no hole at all. But at last, up near the gable top, he found one hole scarcely bigger than if it had been made with a needle: and with great difficulty he managed to wriggle through it. Then he looked carefully about the bower to see if anyone was awake, but the whole room, and the palace about it, seemed plunged in sleep.

  Loki went to Freya’s bed, and saw her there asleep, with the Brisingamen round her neck. And he saw that the clasp of the necklace was under her, so that he could not unfasten it.

  Then he turned himself into a flea and sat on her cheek and bit her. Freya half-woke up, turned over, and then fell asleep again. As soon as she was breathing peacefully Loki took on his own shape again, undid the clasp and drew off the necklace. He unlocked the door and stole out quietly.

  He went straight to Odur, showed him the necklace and told him all that he had done.

  Then in bitter grief Odur flung down the necklace and wandered out of Asgard, away into the mists of the distance.

  Freya woke in the morning, found Brisingamen gone and the doors unlocked, and knew that her secret had been discovered. Weeping bitterly, she sent for Odur to tell him all and beg his forgiveness: but Odur was gone.

  Then she confessed to Odin. ‘I can never rest now,’ she sobbed, ‘until I find my beloved Odur and ask his pardon for the great wrong I have done him; and I shall follow him across the world until I do.’

  ‘It shall be as you say,’ answered Odin solemnly, ‘and the evil which you have done for the sake of a golden trinket shall be forgiven you. But in memory of your sin I decree that you must ever wear the Brising Necklace to remind you of what has passed.’

  ‘I no longer have the accursed thing,’ sobbed Freya. ‘The thief who entered my bower took it, as I told you.’

  ‘Only Loki could have been that thief,’ said Odin, and he summoned his son Heimdall, the Watchman of Asgard, and asked if he had seen Loki.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Heimdall, ‘the son of Laufey passed across Bifrost early this morning, not long after Odur went out from Asgard. Odur I cannot see, but Loki, in the shape of a seal, is hiding by the rocks of Singastein.’

  ‘Go, then,’ commanded Odin, ‘and take from him the necklace called Brisingamen which the Black Dwarfs made of late in Svartalfheim. Bring it and clasp it about the neck of Freya – and see to it that neither Loki nor any other takes it from her again.’

  Swift as light Heimdall sped on his errand, and when he came to the rocks near Singastein he called aloud:

  ‘Loki, son of Laufey, come forth and in your own shape! I know where you hide and in what form. Come forth, I say, for I bring you a message from Odin, lord of the Æsir.’

  But Loki in the form of a seal hid down under the rocks at the bottom of the sea and laughed to himself.

  But he did not laugh a moment later when Heimdall also turned into a seal and came speeding down through the green waters to attack him. Fiercely the battle raged between the two seals, but in the end Heimdall had the better of it, and led Loki back to Asgard in a very bad temper, wearing his own form and carrying the Brising Necklace.

  Then Freya fastened Brisingamen about her neck, and went forth into the world in search of Odur, wandering from land to land, and weeping as she went. And as she wept the tear-drops fell from her eyes and turned into drops of rich red gold.

  For long she was absent from Asgard, and her brother Frey was sorely troubled as to what might have befallen her. He blamed Odin for sending her out on her wanderings, for Odin could have found Odur and brought him back, but it was his will that Freya should wander through the world teaching men and women the gentle ways of love.

  At last Frey could bear it no longer. One day when Odin had gone to seek wisdom at Mimir’s Well he stole up to the high seat of Lidskialf to steal a glimpse out over all worlds – which Odin alone might do.

  He did not see Freya; but his eyes were caught and held by a brightness in the far north. He looked long and earnestly, and saw Gerda, daughter of Giant Gymir, most lovely of all the daughters of the Rime Giants. As she walked the air shone about her, and light seemed to gleam from her very arms. Then suddenly she went into her father’s icy castle, and all the light in the world seemed to Frey to have gone out.

  Slowly and sadly he went down from Lidskialf, punished for his presumption in daring to sit in Odin’s seat. Back in his own palace he spoke never a word, he did not e
at, nor drink, nor sleep: and no one dared speak to him, for he looked about him so fiercely.

  Then Niord his father summoned wise Skirnir, Frey’s faithful companion, and begged him to discover what had chanced.

  ‘I will go to him,’ answered Skirnir, ‘and question him as you command. But I do not go willingly, for I expect only sharp answers.’

  Skirnir went to where Frey sat alone, brooding on his sorrow, and spoke to him:

  ‘Tell me, great Frey, captain of the Æsir, why you sit all day alone in your halls.’

  ‘How can I tell the heaviness of my heart-sorrow?’ answered Frey. ‘The sun shines day by day, but it brings no joy to me.’

  ‘Can your grief be so great that you may not even tell it to your friend?’ asked Skirnir. ‘Have you forgotten how close we were in the past when we grew up as boys together? Do you not trust me still?’

  Frey was touched by his words, and told Skirnir what troubled him: ‘In Gymirsgard I saw a maid walking, and her I love,’ he ended. ‘The very sky shone when she raised her lovely arms. And now she is dearer to me than ever maid was to man. But the Æsir and the Vanir will surely frown on my love, for she is of the race of the Giants.’

  But Skirnir said: ‘Give me a swift horse, and your magic sword that cuts whatever the edge touches, and I will win her for you.’

  ‘I will indeed give you my horse,’ answered Frey, ‘and with it my magic sword that fights of itself if he is bold that bears it.’

  Skirnir took the sword in his hand, sprang upon Frey’s horse, and rode off into Jotunheim. ‘Speed forward, good steed!’ he cried. ‘The ways are dark, and we must cross the misty hills into the land of the Rime Giants – but we shall get there in safety if we meet no Trolls on the way!’

  At last they drew near to Gymir’s castle, and there Skirnir saw a shepherd sitting on a hillside.

  ‘Shepherd, sitting on the rocks and watching all the ways!’ he cried. ‘Tell me how I may come to speak with Gerda, lovely daughter of great Gymir.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ cried the shepherd. ‘Or are you already but a ghost? Never can mortal win speech with Gymir’s maiden daughter.’

  ‘None of us must turn aside,’ answered Skirnir. ‘We must go forward on our journey whatever dangers await us. I shall die when die I must, and the Norns already know which day that is to be.’

  Inside the castle Gerda heard the sound of horse’s hooves as Skirnir leapt over the wall and clattered in the yard.

  ‘What is that?’ she asked. ‘The very earth seems to be quaking and all the castle shakes.’

  ‘A man on a great steed has leapt the wall into the yard,’ answered her handmaiden. ‘He has got off his horse now, and has turned it loose to graze.’

  ‘Go, bid him into the hall,’ exclaimed Gerda, ‘and serve him with clear mead … But my heart misgives me lest this stranger is he of whom the prophecy tells – that through him shall come the death of my dear brother Beli.’

  In the great hall Skirnir bowed low as Gerda came to meet him, carrying in her hands a horn of mead.

  ‘Which of the sons of the Æsir or of the wise Vanir are you?’ she asked as she made him welcome. ‘And how did you cross the wall which surrounds my father’s castle?’

  ‘I am none of the Æsir, nor the wise Vanir, nor even of the Elves,’ answered Skirnir, ‘though indeed I came alone over the wall to visit you. But see, I have here eleven apples of solid gold: these, beauteous Gerda, I will give you to purchase your favour so that you may call Frey, Lord of the Vanir, your best beloved of all living.’

  ‘Your golden apples I will never take to buy my love for any living wight,’ answered Gerda. ‘Nor shall Frey and I ever call one another husband and wife.’

  ‘Look on this sword,’ cried Skirnir, drawing Frey’s magic blade. ‘I could hew off your head with it at a single stroke, if you would not come with me to be Frey’s love.’

  ‘Never will I endure to be driven to love,’ said Gerda. ‘Yet I think that swords shall flash and grow dim with blood if you meet any of my kin.’

  ‘Look yet again upon this sword,’ said Skirnir in a low, thrilling voice. ‘Look, and behold how it is marked with magic Runes. They are spells which shall bring a curse upon you, if you do not reward Frey’s true love. If the spell is cast upon you, demons shall pinch you every day, even here in Jotunheim. Either you shall lack a husband, or a three-headed Troll shall be your lord: yes, Rimegrim the monster whose home is in the Glen of Corpses shall have you to wife. Your soul shall be smitten so that you pine as Frey is pining. Odin shall be wroth with you. Thor’s anger shall be kindled against you, Frey himself shall grow to hate you … See, I print upon you the magic Rune “”: love shall fill you, but love shall destroy you, if you do not take pity upon Frey.’

  Then all the anger went out of Gerda’s eyes, and they grew suddenly tender.

  ‘See,’ she murmured, ‘in this cup I drink to Frey. I did not think that I should ever come to love one of the Vanir … Yet now it seems on a sudden that I do.’

  ‘Give me further answer ere I ride back to Asgard,’ said Skirnir. ‘When and where will you meet with Niord’s glorious son?’

  ‘In the wood called Barri, the peaceful copse that he knows well,’ answered Gerda. ‘There I will wait for him three nights from now; and there we may be wedded.’

  Then Skirnir leapt upon his horse and spurred towards Asgard, where Frey was waiting eagerly for him.

  ‘Tell me quickly, Skirnir,’ he cried. ‘Tell me before you unsaddle your horse or even set foot to the ground, how did you fare in Jotunheim? What says fair Gerda to my love?’

  ‘Barri is the name of a peaceful copse well known to both of you,’ said Skirnir quietly. ‘There, three nights from now, Gerda will wait for her love – there she will become the wife of Frey, Niord’s noble son.’

  ‘Ah!’ sighed Frey, the happiness growing in his eyes. ‘But one night is long, two nights are longer – how can I endure to wait for three? A month has often seemed to me shorter than even one of these nights of waiting!’

  Nevertheless the endless nights were passed in due course, and Frey went to meet his love in the Wood of Barri.

  On the way he found the Giant Beli waiting for him: ‘Never while I live shall you marry my sister Gerda!’ roared Beli. ‘And now you shall die, for I see you have no sword.’

  Then Frey missed the Sword of Sharpness which he had given to Skirnir – yet he did not miss it so sorely as he was fated to do when the Sons of Muspell came against him on the Day of Ragnarok. For, as Beli whirled his terrible club over his head, Frey stooped to avoid the blow, picked up the horn of a hart which lay upon the ground, and stabbed the Giant to the heart.

  Then he went on his way to the wood Barri, and there Gerda met him, and loved him truly at sight.

  And there the Æsir and Vanir gathered for the wedding; and Freya came leaning on the arm of kindly Odur, whom she had found at last and won his forgiveness for falling beneath the cunning spell of the four Dwarfs.

  All was mirth and gaiety in that magic grove as they feasted through the warm summer night, while the nightingale sang in the thicket, and the swans chanted their mysterious chorus on the lake nearby.

  And when the stars were paling, all lay down to sleep amongst the flowers and the soft grasses, while the brief darkness fell like a gentle coverlet over them.

  Yet in that darkness evil moved.

  Morning came, and Thor sprang to his feet with a shout of rage that roused the Æsir from their slumbers in a moment.

  ‘My hammer Miolnir, terror of the Giants, has gone!’ he roared. ‘When I lay down to sleep it rested at my side, under my hand. Some cunning thief has stolen it from me in the darkness.’

  They called Loki before them, half-suspecting him, half-anxious to seek his aid.

  ‘Yes, I’ll help you to find who has stolen Thor’s hammer,’ said Loki at once. ‘But only if Freya will lend me her feather cloak. Without it I cannot find the hammer.’

  �
�You shall have my feather cloak,’ answered Freya. ‘I would lend it to you even if it were made of gold and silver, so long as you find Thor’s hammer for him.’

  So Loki wrapped the feather cloak about him, and flew away into Jotunheim until he came to Thrymheim, the place of Noise, and there he found Thrym, king of the Noise Giants, sitting on a hillside plaiting golden leashes for his greyhounds and making trimmings for the manes of his horses.

  ‘Greetings, Loki son of Laufey!’ he cried. ‘How goes it with the Æsir? How goes it with the Elves? Why have you come alone into Jotunheim?’

  Then Loki answered humbly: ‘It goes ill with the Æsir! It goes ill with the Elves. Thor’s hammer is lost and they have sent me to seek it. Tell me where you have hidden it!’

  Thrym, lord of the Giants, laughed aloud: ‘Yes, I have hidden the Thunderer’s hammer!’ he shouted. ‘I have hidden it eight miles deep under the earth. No one can ever find it, nor shall I bring it back unless the Æsir send me Freya the beautiful to be my wife.’

  Then away flew Loki, the feather cloak flapping in the wind. Out of Jotunheim he went and came into Asgard. Thor met him at the gate, and the first words that he spoke were: ‘What news do you bring me out of the sky? Speak quickly, have you found my hammer?’

  ‘I have good news for you,’ answered Loki. ‘Thrym the Giant of Noise has your hammer. He has hidden it eight miles under the earth where no one can find it. But he will give it back to you if you bring Freya the beautiful to be his wife.’

  In his eagerness to recover Miolnir, Thor thought of nothing else, and he rushed to Freya’s palace and burst into her bower, shouting:

  ‘Make ready, Freya! Take your bride’s veil and come with me to Jotunheim, for Thrym the Giant is to be your husband!’

  Then Freya sprang up in rage, and her fury was so great that the Brising Necklace round her throat burst open and fell to the ground.