  Among the gods in Asgard, dwelt the beautiful Idun, the goddess whose care it was to guard the apples of life. “Idun,” Odin One day, when all was quiet and peaceful and happy in the city of Asgard, Loke, feeling within him the stirring of his own evil heart, betook himself to Midgard in search of mischief. The peace and quiet of Asgard he could no longer endure. Then, too, it was to him a cruel delight to shoot his arrows into O, Loke was a cruel god! “Surely,” Odin would sometimes say, as he looked upon him and thought of the wretchedness that yet would fall on Asgard through Loke’s wicked deeds, “surely, Loke has the spirit of a Frost giant; and the Frost giants are bitter, bitter foes to Asgard.” This day Loke longed for mischief. “I will go down to Midgard and find some happy heart to sadden,” said he, his eyes shining with their wicked light. Down the rainbow bridge he hastened, and, with a light bound, sprang upon a bright tree in the beautiful land of Midgard. “Who are you?” cried he, seeing in the tree beside him a great, white bird. But the bird made no reply; he only “Do you not know a god speaks to you?” stormed Loke, growing angry even with a bird. Still no answer. “Was ever there such a stupid bird? Indeed, like the people of Midgard, you seem to have no wisdom,” sneered Loke. And determined to vent his evil mood, he seized a branch and began to beat the bird. Then a strange thing happened. The bird, who all this time had seemed so stupid—too stupid even to fly away—now seized upon the bough and held it fast. Loke pulled and pulled with all his godlike strength. He could not move it; it was as if held in the grasp of a giant. “Stupid bird!” sneered Loke, when he found he could do the bird no harm. “I will A strange sound—almost like a laugh of triumph—squeezed itself out from the beak of the big bird. “Go, Loke, go at once. Go back to Asgard; or perhaps you would like to go with me to Jotunheim,” spoke the bird at last. And as he spoke, he spread his wings, and arose high in the air. Alas, alas for Loke, as the bird rose, he rose too; nor could he free himself. He screamed, he fought, he begged, he strove with all his godlike arts to free himself, but all in vain. On, on they flew, the bird and Loke, across the sky, over and under and between the clouds, across the great wide sea, at last across the snow-white peaks, down, down to a castle in Jotunheim, in the land of the mighty “Let me free! Let me free!” foamed Loke, struggling against the bird, whose magic held him fast. “I will never let you free,” answered the bird, throwing off his disguise and standing forth a giant foe; “I will never let you free except on one condition.” “I grant it! I grant it! Whatever it is, I grant it,” cried the coward, caring for nothing but to free himself. “The condition is this,” continued the giant coolly: “I will let you free if you will bring me, without delay, the apples of everlasting youth—the apples that Idun guards and watches over, locked so closely in the golden casket in the city of Asgard.” Loke stared. He caught his breath. To “There are no such apples,” answered he, trying, as cowards always do, to hide himself behind a lie. “There are no such apples.” “Very well,” answered the giant, opening a great dungeon door, and thrusting Loke in. “When you are ready to do what I say, you may come out; never until then.” The great dungeon door creaked upon its terrible hinges and Loke was alone, a prisoner, at the mercy of the Frost giant. Loke howled and beat against the walls of the dungeon. “Are you ready to do what I asked of you?” asked the Frost giant, opening the great door the next morning. “There are no such apples,” cried Loke. “On my honor as a god, I swear it!” The giant made no reply. The heavy door creaked again, and Loke was alone. “Are you ready to do what I asked of you?” asked the Frost giant, opening the great door the second morning. “Anything in all Asgard, O Giant, I promise you—anything but the apples,” cried Loke. The giant made no reply. The heavy door creaked again, and Loke was alone. “Are you willing to do what I asked of you?” asked the Frost giant, opening the great door the third morning. “One of the apples, O Giant, I might steal from Idun and escape with before the fruit was missed,” Loke began. The giant made no reply. The heavy door creaked again and Loke was alone. “Are you ready to do what I asked of you?” asked the Frost giant, opening the great door the fourth morning. “Yes, two of the three apples will I promise to bring you. With even one left, the gods might be content; for even then their lives would be far longer than the life of mortals.” The giant made no reply. The heavy door creaked again and Loke was alone. “Are you ready to do what I asked of you?” asked the Frost giant, opening the great door the fifth morning. “Yes,” answered Loke, meekly. “You are willing to bring the apples of life?” “Yes.” “And you will bring all three of them?” “Yes.” “And you will bring them at once?” “Yes.” “Go, then. I will go with you. Outside the walls of the shining city I will wait for you to bring the apples to me.” Then putting on the guise of birds, the two set forth, reaching the gateway of the city just as the Sungod was pouring down his “Idun,” said Loke, going directly to her, “it is well you guard so closely these golden apples of life. Without them we should grow old and die, even as wretched mortals grow old and die.” “Indeed, it would fare ill with us if harm came to these precious apples,” answered Idun. “See the rich bloom upon them. If that were lost, then would our bloom be lost as well, and we should grow old and wrinkled.” “Yes,” answered Loke; “and still—it seems very strange—but outside the gate of our city, just on the outer walls, are growing apples, looking so like these I cannot tell them one from the other. Bring your apples with you and let us see if they are alike. If they “How strange!” thought Idun innocently. The days rolled on and on. The Sungod rose, and drove his chariot across the sky, and sank behind the distant purple hills a thousand times. There was a gloom, a shadow over Asgard; for the gods were growing old. The life had gone out of their eyes; their smooth round faces had grown thin and peaked; their “It is Loke who has done this,” thundered Thor one day, when, from old age and weakness, he had been defeated in a battle with the now ever youthful giants. “It is Loke who has done this, and we will bear it no longer. Look at Odin; even he grows weak and bent and trembling. He is like the old men in Midgard. He, Odin, the All-father.” Thor’s indignation waxed stronger and stronger. He set forth in search of Loke. “I will not even wait for him to come,” he thundered, seizing his hammer and setting forth. “I shall find him, the evil-hearted, somewhere making mischief among the innocent people of Midgard,” said he. |
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