<h2><SPAN name="KVASIRS_BLOOD" id="KVASIRS_BLOOD">KVASIR'S BLOOD</SPAN></h2>
<p class="drop-cap4"><span class="smcap1">Once</span> upon a time there lived a man
named Kvasir, who was so wise that
no one could ask him a question
to which he did not know the answer, and
who was so eloquent that his words dripped
from his lips like notes of music from a lute.
For Kvasir was the first poet who ever lived,
the first of those wise makers of songs whom
the Norse folk named <i xml:lang="no" lang="no">skalds</i>. This Kvasir
received his precious gifts wonderfully; for
he was made by the gods and the Vanir,
those two mighty races, to celebrate the
peace which was evermore to be between
them.</p>
<p>Up and down the world Kvasir traveled,
lending his wisdom to the use of men, his
brothers; and wherever he went he brought
smiles and joy and comfort, for with his
wisdom he found the cause of all men's
troubles, and with his songs he healed them.
This is what the poets have been doing in
all the ages ever since. Folk declare that
every skald has a drop of Kvasir's blood in
him. This is the tale which is told to show<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</SPAN></span>
how it happened that Kvasir's blessed skill
has never been lost to the world.</p>
<p>There were two wicked dwarfs named
Fialar and Galar who envied Kvasir his
power over the hearts of men, and who
plotted to destroy him. So one day they invited
him to dine, and while he was there,
they begged him to come aside with them,
for they had a very secret question to ask,
which only he could answer. Kvasir never
refused to turn his wisdom to another's help;
so, nothing suspecting, he went with them to
hear their trouble.</p>
<p>Thereupon this sly pair of wicked dwarfs
led him into a lonely corner. Treacherously
they slew Kvasir; and because their cunning
taught them that his blood must be
precious, they saved it in three huge kettles,
and mixing it with honey, made thereof a
magic drink. Truly, a magic drink it was;
for whoever tasted of Kvasir's blood was
straightway filled with Kvasir's spirit, so that
his heart taught wisdom and his lips uttered
the sweetest poesy. Thus the wicked dwarfs
became possessed of a wonderful treasure.</p>
<p>When the gods missed the silver voice<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</SPAN></span>
of Kvasir echoing up from the world below,
they were alarmed, for Kvasir was very
dear to them. They inquired what had become
of him, and finally the wily dwarfs
answered that the good poet had been
drowned in his own wisdom. But Father
Odin, who had tasted another wise draught
from Mimer's well, knew that this was not
the truth, and kept his watchful eye upon
the dark doings of Fialar and Galar.</p>
<p>Not long after this the dwarfs committed
another wicked deed. They invited the giant
Gilling to row out to sea with them, and when
they were a long distance from shore, the
wicked fellows upset the boat and drowned
the giant, who could not swim. They rowed
back to land, and told the giant's wife how
the "accident" had happened. Then there
were giant shrieks and howls enough to
deafen all the world, for the poor giantess
was heartbroken, and her grief was a giant
grief. Her sobs annoyed the cruel-hearted
dwarfs. So Fialar, pretending to sympathize,
offered to take her where she could look upon
the spot where her dear husband had last
been seen. As she passed through the gateway,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</SPAN></span>
the other dwarf, to whom his brother
had made a sign, let a huge millstone fall
upon her head. That was the ending of her,
poor thing, and of her sorrow, which had so
disturbed the little people, crooked in heart
as in body.</p>
<p>But punishment was in store for them.
Suttung, the huge son of Gilling, learned the
story of his parents' death, and presently,
in a dreadful rage, he came roaring to the
home of the dwarfs. He seized one of them
in each big fist, and wading far out to sea, set
the wretched little fellows on a rock which
at high tide would be covered with water.</p>
<p>"Stay there," he cried, "and drown as
my father drowned!" The dwarfs screamed
thereat for mercy so loudly that he had to
listen before he went away.</p>
<p>"Only let us off, Suttung," they begged,
"and you shall have the precious mead
made from Kvasir's blood."</p>
<p>Now Suttung was very anxious to own
this same mead, so at last he agreed to the
bargain. He carried them back to land, and
they gave him the kettles in which they had
mixed the magic fluid. Suttung took them<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</SPAN></span>
away to his cave in the mountains, and gave
them in charge of his fair daughter Gunnlöd.
All day and all night she watched by
the precious kettles, to see that no one came
to steal or taste of the mead; for Suttung
thought of it as his greatest treasure, and no
wonder.</p>
<p>Father Odin had seen all these deeds from
his seat above the heavens, and his eye had
followed longingly the passage of the wondrous
mead, for Odin longed to have a
draught of it. Odin had wisdom, he had
drained that draught from the bottom of
Mimer's mystic fountain; but he lacked the
skill of speech which comes of drinking
Kvasir's blood. He wanted the mead for
himself and for his children in Asgard, and
it seemed a shame that this precious treasure
should be wasted upon the wicked giants
who were their enemies. So he resolved to
try if it might not be won in some sly way.</p>
<p>One day he put on his favorite disguise as
a wandering old man, and set out for Giant Land,
where Suttung dwelt. By and by he
came to a field where nine workmen were
cutting hay. Now these were the servants<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</SPAN></span>
of Baugi, the brother of Suttung, and this
Odin knew. He walked up to the men and
watched them working for a little while.</p>
<p>"Ho!" he exclaimed at last, "your
scythes are dull. Shall I whet them for
you?" The men were glad enough to accept
his offer, so Odin took a whetstone from
his pocket and sharpened all the scythes
most wonderfully. Then the men wanted to
buy the stone; each man would have it for
his own, and they fell to quarreling over it.
To make matters more exciting, Odin tossed
the whetstone into their midst, <span class="locked">saying:—</span></p>
<p>"Let him have it who catches it!" Then
indeed there was trouble! The men fought
with one another for the stone, slashing right
and left with their sharp scythes until every
one was killed. Odin hastened away, and went
up to the house where Baugi lived. Presently
home came Baugi, complaining loudly
and bitterly because his quarrelsome servants
had killed one another, so that there was not
one left to do his work.</p>
<p>"What am I going to do?" he cried.
"Here it is mowing time, and I have not a
single man to help me in the field!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</SPAN></span>
Then Odin spoke up. "I will help you,"
he said. "I am a stout fellow, and I can do
the work of nine men if I am paid the price
I ask."</p>
<p>"What is the price which you ask?"
queried Baugi eagerly, for he saw that this
stranger was a mighty man, and he thought
that perhaps he could do as he boasted.</p>
<p>"I ask that you get for me a drink of
Suttung's mead," Odin answered.</p>
<p>Then Baugi eyed him sharply. "You are
one of the gods," he said, "or you would not
know about the precious mead. Therefore I
know that you can do my work, the work of
nine men. I cannot give you the mead. It is
my brother's, and he is very jealous of it, for
he wishes it all himself. But if you will work
for me all the summer, when winter comes I
will go with you to Suttung's home and try
what I can do to get a draught for you."</p>
<p>So they made the bargain, and all summer
Father Odin worked in the fields of Baugi,
doing the work of nine men. When the
winter came, he demanded his pay. So then
they set out for Suttung's home, which was
a cave deep down in the mountains, where it<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</SPAN></span>
seems not hard to hide one's treasures. First
Baugi went to his brother and told him of
the agreement between him and the stranger,
begging for a gift of the magic mead wherewith
to pay the stout laborer who had done
the work of nine. But Suttung refused to
spare even a taste of the precious liquor.</p>
<p>"This laborer of yours is one of the gods,
our enemies," he said. "Indeed, I will not
give him of the precious mead. What are
you thinking of, brother!" Then he talked
to Baugi till the giant was ready to forget
his promise to Odin, and to desire only the
death of the stranger who had come forward
to help him.</p>
<p>Baugi returned to Odin with the news that
the mead was not to be had with Suttung's
consent. "Then we must get it without his
consent," declared Odin. "We must use our
wits to steal it from under his nose. You
must help me, Baugi, for you have promised."</p>
<p>Baugi agreed to this; but in his heart he
meant to entrap Odin to his death. Odin
now took from his pocket an auger such as
one uses to bore holes. "Look, now," he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</SPAN></span>
said. "You shall bore a hole into the roof
of Suttung's cave, and when the hole is large
enough, I will crawl through and get the
mead."</p>
<p>"Very well," nodded Baugi, and he began
to bore into the mountain with all his might
and main. At last he cried, "There, it is
done; the mountain is pierced through!"
But when Odin blew into the hole to see
whether it did indeed go through into the
cave, the dust made by the auger flew into
his face. Thus he knew that Baugi was deceiving
him, and thenceforth he was on his
guard, which was fortunate.</p>
<p>"Try again," said Odin sternly. "Bore a
little deeper, friend Baugi." So Baugi went
at the work once more, and this time when
he said the hole was finished, Odin found
that his word was true, for the dust blew
through the hole and disappeared in the cave.
Now Odin was ready to try the plan which
he had been forming.</p>
<p>Odin's wisdom taught him many tricks,
and among them he knew the secret of
changing his form into that of any creature
he chose. He turned himself into a worm,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</SPAN></span>—a
long, slender, wiggly worm, just small
enough to be able to enter the hole that
Baugi had pierced. In a moment he had
thrust his head into the opening, and was
wriggling out of sight before Baugi had even
guessed what he meant to do. Baugi jumped
forward and made a stab at him with the
pointed auger, but it was too late. The
worm's striped tail quivered in out of sight,
and Baugi's wicked attempt was spoiled.</p>
<p>When Odin had crept through the hole,
he found himself in a dark, damp cavern,
where at first he could see nothing. He
changed himself back into his own noble
form, and then he began to hunt about for
the kettles of magic mead. Presently he
came to a little chamber, carefully hidden in
a secret corner of this secret grotto,—a chamber
locked and barred and bolted on the inside,
so that no one could enter by the door.
Suttung had never thought of such a thing
as that a stranger might enter by a hole in the
roof!</p>
<p>At the back of this tiny room stood three
kettles upon the floor; and beside them, with
her head resting on her elbow, sat a beautiful<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</SPAN></span>
maiden, sound asleep. It was Gunnlöd, Suttung's
daughter, the guardian of the mead.
Odin stepped up to her very softly, and
bending over, kissed her gently upon the
forehead. Gunnlöd awoke with a start, and
at first she was horrified to find a stranger in
the cave where it seemed impossible that a
stranger could enter. But when she saw the
beauty of Odin's face and the kind look of
his eye, she was no longer afraid, but glad
that he had come. For poor Gunnlöd often
grew lonesome in this gloomy cellar-home,
where Suttung kept her prisoner day and
night to watch over the three kettles.</p>
<p>"Dear maiden," said Odin, "I have come a
long, long distance to see you. Will you not
bid me stay a little while?"</p>
<p>Gunnlöd looked at him kindly. "Who
are you, and whence do you come so far to
see me?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I am Odin, from Asgard. The way is
long and I am thirsty. Shall I not taste the
liquor which you have there?"</p>
<p>Gunnlöd hesitated. "My father bade me
never let soul taste of the mead," she said
"I am sorry for you, however, poor fellow.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</SPAN></span>
You look very tired and thirsty. You may
have one little sip." Then Odin kissed her
and thanked her, and tarried there with such
pleasant words for the maiden that before he
was ready to go she granted him what he
asked,—three draughts, only three draughts
of the mead.</p>
<p>Now Odin took up the first kettle to drink,
and with one draught he drained the whole.
He did the same by the next, and the next,
till before she knew it, Gunnlöd found herself
guarding three empty kettles. Odin had
gained what he came for, and it was time for
him to be gone before Suttung should come
to seek him in the cave. He kissed fair
Gunnlöd once again, with a sigh to think
that he must treat her so unfairly. Then he
changed himself into an eagle, and away
he flew to carry the precious mead home to
Asgard.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Baugi had told the giant Suttung
how Odin the worm had pierced through
into his treasure-cave; and when Suttung,
who was watching, saw the great eagle fly
forth, he guessed who this eagle must be.
Suttung also put on an eagle's plumage, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</SPAN></span>
a wonderful chase began. Whirr, whirr!
The two enormous birds winged their way
toward Asgard, Suttung close upon the
other's flight. Over the mountains they flew,
and the world was darkened as if by the passage
of heavy storm-clouds, while the trees,
blown by the breeze from their wings, swayed,
and bent almost to the ground.</p>
<p>It was a close race; but Odin was the
swifter of the two, and at last he had the mead
safe in Asgard, where the gods were waiting
with huge dishes to receive it from his mouth.
Suttung was so close upon him, however,
that he jostled Odin even as he was filling
the last dish, and some of the mead was
spilled about in every direction over the
world. Men rushed from far and near to taste
of these wasted drops of Kvasir's blood, and
many had just enough to make them dizzy,
but not enough to make them wise. These
folk are the poor poets, the makers of bad
verses, whom one finds to this day satisfied
with their meagre, stolen portion, scattered
drops of the sacred draught.</p>
<p>The mead that Odin had captured he gave
to the gods, a wondrous gift; and they in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</SPAN></span>
turn cherished it as their most precious treasure.
It was given into the special charge
of old Bragi of the white beard, because his
taste of the magic mead had made him wise
and eloquent above all others. He was the
sweetest singer of all the Æsir, and his speech
was poetry. Sometimes Bragi gave a draught
of Kvasir's blood to some favored mortal,
and then he also became a great poet. He
did not do this often,—only once or twice
in the memory of an old man; for the
precious mead must be made to last a long,
long time, until the world be ready to drop
to pieces, because this world without its
poets would be too dreadful a place to imagine.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</SPAN></span></p>
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