NEAR Odin’s council hall was a fair white building called the Hall of Mists,[11] and here sat Frigga,[12] the wife of Odin, spinning the many-coloured clouds. She spent long hours beside her golden wheel; and when she spun by day, the clouds were white and soft and fleecy; but toward evening Frigga put a touch of colour into her work, and then the heavens glowed with yellow and violet and red. It was through Odin’s careful wife that snow fell plentifully in winter, for then Frigga shook her feather beds, and made them ready for the touch of the spring sunshine. At her command the rain fell all through the year, so that the streets of Asgard might always be kept spotless. It was Frigga, too, who made the wonderful gift of flax to men; and she taught the women how to spin and weave.

Frigga was very fond of children; and one day, as she looked down upon the earth, she saw two little boys playing together on the seashore. They were Geirrod and Agnar, sons of a wealthy king[13]; and Frigga grew to love them very dearly. She was so anxious to talk to them and know them, that she persuaded Odin to go with her down to the earth; and, having disguised themselves as an old fisherman and his wife, they took possession of a deserted hut. This hut was on an island many miles from the country where Geirrod and Agnar lived; but Odin promised Frigga that in spite of this, the children would come to her.

One day Geirrod and his brother went out rowing in their boat, and a storm came up which blew the tiny craft far out to sea. The boys became terribly frightened; and the wind tossed them about on the angry waves until they would surely have perished if Odin had not been watching over them. He kept their frail boat from sinking, and guided it to the very shore on which he and Frigga were living in the little hut. The boys were glad indeed when their feet once more touched the solid earth; for they were tired and hungry and cold, and a good deal frightened, too. They knew that they must be far from their own country; but they were so glad to be out of reach of the waves that it mattered little to them what land it was to which the wind had brought them.

When they began to look about them, they found that the island was very bleak and bare, with no flowers nor fruits nor berries to be seen anywhere. Nothing seemed to be growing there but low, thorny bushes that scratched them and tore their clothes as they attempted to make their way further into the island. Soon it began to get dark, and the boys stumbled helplessly through the briers; but at last they saw the glimmer of a light, and groped their way toward it. Presently they came to a small hut, through whose open window the friendly light was streaming, and, without a moment’s hesitation, they knocked loudly at the door.

They were a bit surprised at the appearance of the two people within the hut; for although they were simply clad as peasants, there was something in their bearing that reminded Geirrod and Agnar of the lordly guests who had sat at their father’s table. But the boys were too hungry and tired to pay much attention to the kind folk who took them in, though they were grateful for the food and dry clothing and a warm place by the fire. Some days later, Geirrod inquired of his host how a fisherman could afford such wonderfully soft beds and food fit for kings to dine upon. Agnar asked no questions, but wondered why the flowers bloomed so plentifully around the cottage door, and why the birds sang all day.

It was too stormy for the boys to attempt to venture on the sea for many days; and even when the storm was over, the waves looked dark and menacing. Winter was coming on, and there was little chance that the sea would grow calm; so Geirrod and Agnar lingered day after day in the fisherman’s cottage, needing no persuasion to remain with their new-found friends. Geirrod spent all of his time with the fisherman,[14] learning the lore of the sea and becoming very adept in the use of the spear as well as the humbler net and line. He was also taught to hunt the game that was plentiful on the island, and he grew very proud of his skill with the bow. All day he stayed at the fisherman’s side, listening, learning and wondering at the great knowledge which his companion had of things that had happened before the world was made. He heard many tales of heroes, and learned of brave deeds that had been done by men of his own race. He knew that the fisherman told these stories so that he himself might see how fine a thing it was to be brave and strong and noble; and Geirrod, who was by nature selfish and cruel, felt so thrilled by the old man’s stirring words that he wished to be like the heroes whose lives were so loudly praised.

Agnar usually stayed with the fisherman’s wife in the cottage; for he was gentler and more timid than his brother, and preferred to help his kind foster-mother instead of hunting with Geirrod or venturing out on the sea to spear the great fish. Agnar, too, heard many stories as he sat by the goodwife’s side while she spun her flax; but these were not hero-tales nor stories of adventure. She told him how the god Freyr makes the flowers bloom, and the fruits ripen; and how his sister Freya watches over the earth all through the springtime. She spoke of the love which these two had for all the beautiful things in nature, for music and poetry, and how they even watched with delight the dancing of the fairies in Elfheim. She told him how wonderful the city of Asgard looked when the sun shone on the broad, golden streets; and how the sounds reËchoed through the great hall called Valhalla where Odin feasted with the heroes chosen from the battle-field.

So the winter passed quickly, and when spring came the fisherman built a new, strong boat in which the boys were to make their voyage homeward. Then Geirrod and Agnar said good-by to the kind folk with whom they had passed so many happy days. Reluctantly they sailed away from the friendly island, and soon came in sight of their own country. A fair wind carried them gently all the way, for Odin had commanded Njord, the storm god, to keep his blusterous winds under control. As the boat neared the familiar shores, Geirrod forgot all the generous lessons that the fisherman had tried to teach him, and he began to look with hatred at his brother. As Agnar was the older of the two, he would inherit the kingdom; so Geirrod was filled with a sudden rage against the gentle boy who stood in the way of his becoming king.

As the boat drew toward the shore, Geirrod sprang out, and giving the boat a mighty shove toward the open sea he cried: “Go back to the island, you weak, timid girl. You are not fit to be king.” Then, being a sturdy swimmer, he made for the land. The boat drifted out again to sea, and carried Agnar to a strange land, where he lived many years. Finally he returned to his own country in disguise and became a servant in his father’s palace—but by this time Geirrod had already been made king. For when Geirrod swam ashore, he hastened at once to his father and told him the whole story of his adventure with the fisherman on the island. When the king asked for Agnar, Geirrod said that his brother had been drowned on the journey home by falling over the edge of the boat. As there was no reason to doubt this story, the king mourned for Agnar as one dead; and the younger brother was acknowledged heir to the throne. Not many years later, the king died and Geirrod was made ruler over the whole kingdom.

When Odin and Frigga, who had long since left the island and returned to Asgard, learned what had become of their favourites, Odin was very proud that Geirrod had become a great king. Frigga grieved, however, that the gentle Agnar had suffered through his brother’s treachery, and hated to see him serving as a menial in Geirrod’s hall. When Odin praised his former pupil, she would say: “He is a great king, but a cruel man. No stranger would dare to trust to his mercy.”

Now as unkindness to a stranger was a very despicable trait in those days, this taunt of Frigga’s roused Odin’s wrath; and he determined to show her that Geirrod was not the heartless king she declared him to be. So he disguised himself as an aged traveller, and presented himself at Geirrod’s palace asking for food and shelter. Frigga, however, was equally determined to prove Geirrod’s cruelty, and thus defend her favourite, Agnar. So she secretly sent a messenger to the king bidding him beware of a strange old man who would come to the palace claiming the rights of hospitality.

Odin was much surprised when he met with rough usage at the hands of Geirrod’s servants, not knowing that the king had commanded them to seize any aged traveller who might come to the palace. He was not welcomed to the well-filled table as he had expected, but was rudely dragged before the king. Now Geirrod, believing that this was the stranger of whom he had been warned to beware, commanded the old man to tell his name and the object of his visit. The traveller stood with bowed head, refusing to speak; and this made the king so angry that he threatened the old man with torture and death if he did not answer.

As the stranger continued to keep silent, Geirrod commanded his servants to chain him to a pillar in the great hall and build on each side of him a hot fire whose flames would torture without destroying him. So they dragged the unresisting old man to the pillar and bound him with chains too strong for even the stoutest warrior to break. Then they kindled fires on either side of him and stood off, laughing and mocking at the trembling figure that seemed to crouch in terror against the pillar.

For eight days and nights the fires were kept burning, and during all this time the cruel king allowed no meat or drink to be given to his prisoner. But one night, when the watchers were drowsy with ale and the heat of the fires, a servant stole softly into the hall with a great drinking-horn in his hand. This he carried to the old man, who appeared to be in great suffering, and he smiled happily when he saw the prisoner drain the cool drink to the last drop. This servant was Agnar, the king’s brother, whom every one believed to be dead.

The next morning, Geirrod assembled all his nobles in the great hall, and they began to make merry over the prisoner’s misery, asking him if he would now speak and tell them who he was and from whence he came. The old man shook his head, refusing to speak; but suddenly, to the astonishment of all, he began to sing. And as he sang, the listeners grew strangely silent, while a nameless fear seized the whole company as they saw no longer the crouching figure by the pillar, but a tall commanding form before whose awful majesty they shrank back trembling and afraid. As the singing continued, the power and sweetness of the music filled the echoing halls; and when the song was over, the chains fell suddenly from the prisoner’s arms and he stood—a terrible accusing power—before the eyes of the terrified people. Geirrod as well as his nobles knew now that a god had come among them; and the king, fearing for his life, tried madly to defend himself. He seized his sword and rushed blindly at the tall form confronting him, forgetting—in his terror—that no weapon could prevail against an immortal. Blinded by his fury, he fell forward upon his own sword, and in a moment lay dead at Odin’s feet.

Then the All-Father called to Agnar and bade him take his rightful place on the throne which his brother had usurped. The people gladly welcomed a kindlier ruler; and Odin, having righted the wrongs which Geirrod’s cruelty had created, now returned to Asgard to report to the anxious Frigga that her favourite was at last made king.

II

There was once a king named Gylfe who was reputed to be the wisest ruler of his time. He kept many learned men at his court; but he was eager to gain more knowledge than all these sages could command, and so sent far and wide for men skilled in magic and those whose eyes could read the secrets of the stars.

One day an old woman[15] came to Gylfe’s palace asking alms, and she was brought at once into the presence of the king. Gylfe treated her with great kindness, and while she sat at the king’s table eating of his own rich food, she turned to the monarch saying: “Never has the stranger met with such kindness as this. What can I give you in return?” The guests who were feasting began to laugh merrily, but the king answered, “There is nothing that I wish for except wisdom.” “Then, listen,” said the strange old woman, and she began to tell the king a story of the world as it was when it came fresh from the hands of the gods. Then she spoke of the frost-giants, the ancient enemies of the shining ones of Asgard; and as the king listened, he seemed to see how all things must have looked in that first morning of the world.

When the old woman finished speaking and turned to leave the palace, Gylfe begged her to accept some gift in return for her wonderful stories; and the stranger, who was really a giantess, replied: “I will take as much land as four oxen can plough in a day and a night.” Now the frost-giants had been envying the earth-folk many years, and they wished to add more land to their country beyond the frozen seas. So when Gylfe consented to the old woman’s strange request, she brought four immense oxen from JÖtunheim, and harnessed them to a huge plough. Then the giantess cut such a deep furrow into the earth that a great tract of land was torn away; and this, being carried out to sea by the oxen, was borne westward to JÖtunheim. Thus Gylfe lost a large part of his kingdom, but he felt that even that was not too great a price to pay for the knowledge which he had gained.

Having learned from the giantess how wise were all the dwellers in Asgard, Gylfe determined to seek the gods themselves; though he knew that in his eager desire for more wisdom he was likely to meet death at their hands for his presumption. So he set out on the journey to Asgard; but he would surely have never reached those sacred halls if Odin had not guided his footsteps and led him to the rainbow bridge that reached up from Midgard to the city of the gods. Here, at the end of Bifrost, he met Heimdall, the watchman who stood all day and night guarding the shining city from the approach of the giants. Whenever a stranger appeared at the rainbow bridge he sounded his horn[16] to warn the gods of possible danger. Heimdall never slept; and he not only saw as well by night as by day, but his eyes had the wonderful power of seeing a hundred miles all around. He also had such remarkable ears that he could hear the grass growing, and tell whether the wind was blowing on the sea.

Having received a command from Odin to let the stranger pass, Heimdall allowed the king to enter the sacred city; and Gylfe soon found himself in the presence of Odin. The Father of the Gods received him kindly; and, after learning the object of his journey, permitted Gylfe to seat himself in the great council-hall. Then Odin asked the king what it was he wished to know, and Gylfe began to question him freely and fearlessly. He asked about the creation of the world, about the seasons and the rainfalls, and the changes of the moon. He asked why the elves kept themselves forever hidden in the earth, and why the fairies danced only in the moonlight. He spoke, though timidly, of the dark underworld, and asked why the dead never came back to earth again. He even questioned Odin concerning the gods themselves; and to all these eager queries, the All-Father gave a willing answer.

Suddenly the hall grew full of mist and shadows, and Gylfe could hardly see the foot of Odin’s throne. A great noise like some deafening thunder shook the council-hall, and the king, bewildered and frightened, did not know where to turn for safety. Then all at once the darkness and the sounds vanished, and Gylfe found himself on a broad plain. At first he thought that he had seen the shield-hung hall and the shining streets of Asgard only in a dream; but soon the words of Odin came back to him, and he knew that he had indeed talked with the greatest of the gods.

So Gylfe became the wisest ruler on the earth; but though all men honoured him for his great wisdom, many refused to believe that he had really been within the gates of Asgard.