Skirner rode into Jotunheim, to the court of Gymer. Furious dogs were tied there before the gate of the wooden inclosure which surrounded Gerd’s bower. He rode toward a shepherd, who was sitting on a mound, and thus addressed him:
But Gerd inside hears the stranger, and thus speaks to her maid-servant:
Skirner having entered, Gerd thus addresses him:
As this has no effect upon Gerd’s mind, Skirner heaps blows upon her with a magic wand, and at the same time he begins his incantations, scoring runic characters as he sings:
Then Skirner rode home. Frey stood forth and hailed him and asked what tidings.
This poem illustrates how beautifully a myth can be elaborated. Gerd is the seed; Skirner is the air that comes with the sunshine. Thus the myth is easily explained: The earth, in which the seed is sown, resists the embrace of Frey; his messenger Skirner, who brings the seed out into the light, in vain promises her the golden ears of harvest and the ring, the symbol of abundance. She has her giant nature, which has not yet been touched by the divine spirit; she realizes not the glory which she can attain to by Frey’s love. Skirner must conjure her, he must use incantations, he must show her how she, if not embraced by Frey, must forever be the bride of the cold frost, and never experience the joys of wedded life. She finally surrenders herself to Frey, and they embrace each other, when the buds burst forth in the grove. This myth then corresponds to Persephone, the goddess of the grain planted in the ground. Demeter’s sorrow on account of the naked, forsaken field, from which the sprout shall shoot forth from the hidden reed, is Frey’s impatient longing; and Skirner is Mercurius, who brings Proserpina up from the lower world.
But the myth has also a deeper ethical signification. Our forefathers were not satisfied with the mere shell; and Frey’s love to Gerd, which is described so vividly in the Elder Edda, is taken from the nature of love, with all its longings and hopes, and is not only a symbol of what takes place in visible nature. As the warmth of the sun develops the seed, thus love develops the heart; love is the ray of light (Skirner) sent from heaven, which animates and ennobles the clump of earth. Gerd is the maid, who is engaged in earthly affairs and does not yet realize anything nobler than her every-day cares. Then love calls her; in her breast awakens a new life; wonderful dreams like gentle breezes embrace her, and when the dreams grow into consciousness her eyes are opened to a higher sphere of existence. This myth is most perfectly reflected in the love-story of Fridthjof’s Saga, an old Norse romance moulded into a most fascinating Epic Poem by Tegner. A good English translation of this poem appeared a few years ago in London, and was republished in this country under the auspices of Bayard Taylor. It is also translated into almost every other European language, and is justly considered one of the finest poetical productions of this century.
The Sagas tell us, as has already been stated, that Frey was worshiped extensively throughout the northern countries.
In Throndhjem there was during the reign of Olaf Tryggvesson a temple in which Frey was zealously worshiped. When the king, having overthrown the statue of the god, blamed the bondes for their stupid idolatry, and asked them wherein Frey had evinced his power, they answered: Frey often talked with us, foretold us the future, and granted us good seasons and peace.
The Norse chieftain Ingemund Thorstenson, who in the days of the tyrant Harald Hairfair emigrated from Norway and settled in Vatnsdal, Iceland, built near his homestead a temple, which appears to have been specially dedicated to Frey, who had in a manner pointed out a dwelling-place to him; for in digging a place for his pillars of the high-seat (öndvegis-súlur, something similar to the Greek Hermes and Roman Penates), Ingemund found in the earth an image of Frey, which he had lost in Norway.
The Icelander Thorgrim of Seabol was a zealous worshiper of Frey, and conducted sacrificial festivals in his honor during the winter nights. He was killed in his bed by Gisle, and a famous funeral service was given him; but one thing, says the Saga of Gisle Surson, also happened, which seemed remarkable. Snow never settled on Thorgrim’s how (grave-mound) on the south side, nor did it freeze; it was thought that Frey loved him so much, because he had sacrificed to him, that he did not want it to grow cold between them.
In the vicinity of the estate Tver-aa, in Eyjafjord in Iceland, there was a temple dedicated to Frey, and the place became so holy that no guilty person dared to tarry there, for Frey did not allow it. When the chieftain Thorkel the Tall was banished from Tver-aa by Glum Eyjolfson, who is universally known as Vigaglum, he led a full-grown ox to Frey’s temple before he left, and thus addressed the god: Long have you been to me a faithful friend, O Frey! Many gifts have you received from me and rewarded me well for them. Now I give you this ox, in order that Glum may some day have to leave Tver-aa no less reluctantly than I do. And now give to me a sign to show whether you accept this offering or not. At that moment the ox bellowed loudly and fell dead upon the ground. Thorkel considered this a good omen, and moved away with a lighter heart. Afterwards (it is related in Vigaglum’s Saga) Glum in his old days became involved in a dangerous suit for manslaughter, which ended in his having to relinquish Tver-aa to Ketil, son of Thorvald Krok, whom he confessed having killed. On the night before he rode to the thing (assembly, court), where his case was to be decided, he dreamed that there had congregated a number of men at Tver-aa to meet Frey; he saw many down by the river (á is river in Icelandic), and there sat Frey on a bench. Glum asked who they were, and they answered: We are your departed relatives, and have come to pray Frey that you may not be driven from Tver-aa; but it avails us nothing. Frey answers us short and angrily and now remembers the ox which Thorkel the Tall gave to him. Glum awoke, and from that time he said that he was on unfriendly terms with Frey.
In the temple at Upsala, in Sweden, Frey, together with Odin and Thor, was especially worshiped; and by the story of the Norseman Gunnar Helming, who in Sweden gave himself out as Frey, it is attested that the people in some provinces of Sweden put their highest trust in this god, and even believed him sometimes to appear in human form.
The horse, it appears, was regarded as a favorite animal of Frey. At his temple in Throndhjem it is said there were horses belonging to him. It is related of the Icelander Rafnkel that he loved Frey above all other gods, and bestowed upon him an equal share in all his best possessions. He had a brown horse called Frey-fax (compare Col-fax, Fair-fax, etc.), which he loved so highly that he made a solemn vow to kill the man who should ride this horse against his will, a vow he also fulfilled. Another Icelander, Brand, also had a horse called Frey-fax, which he made so much of that he was said to believe in it as in a divinity.
Frey’s boar, Gullinburste, has been referred to in connection with the Jul or Christmas festivities, and there are found many examples of swine-sacrifice in the old Norse writings. King Hedrek made solemn vows on the atonement-boar on Jul-eve, and in one of the prose supplements to the ancient Edda poem of Helge Hjorvardson we find that the atonement-boar is mentioned as being led out on Jul-eve, in order that they might lay lands upon it and make solemn vows.
A highly valued wooden statue or image of Frey was found in a temple at Throndhjem, which king Olaf Tryggvesson hewed in pieces in the presence of the people. Kjotve the Rich, king of Agder in Norway, one of the chiefs who fought against Harald Fairhair, had a weight upon which the god Frey was sculptured in silver. This treasure, which he held in great veneration, fell after the battle into the hands of King Harald, and he presented it to his friend, the chieftain Ingemund Thorstenson, who afterwards carried the image in a purse and held it in very high esteem. This last-mentioned image was probably borne as an amulet, as was often the case, no doubt, with the gold braeteates which are found in the grave-hows and in the earth, having upon them the images of men and animals, and which are furnished with a clasp for fastening to a necklace.
The goddess of love is Freyja, also called Vanadis or Vanabride. She is the daughter of Njord and the sister of Frey. She ranks next to Frigg. She is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. It is from her name that women of birth and fortune are called in the Icelandic language hús freyjur (compare Norse fru and German frau). Her abode in heaven is called Folkvang, where she disposes of the hall-seats. To whatever field of battle she rides she asserts her right to one half the slain, the other half belonging to Odin. Thus the Elder Edda, in Grimner’s lay:
Her mansion, Sessrymner (having many or large seats), is large and magnificent; thence she rides out in a car drawn by two cats. She lends a favorable ear to those who sue for her assistance. She possesses a necklace called Brisingamen, or Brising. She married a person called Oder, and their daughter, named Hnos, is so very handsome that whatever is beautiful and precious is called by her name hnossir (that means, nice things). It is also said that she had two daughters, Hnos and Gerseme, the latter name meaning precious. But Oder left his wife in order to travel into very remote countries. Since that time Freyja continually weeps, and her tears are drops of pure gold; hence she is also called the fair-weeping goddess (it grátfagra goð). In poetry, gold is called Freyja’s tears, the rain of Freyja’s brows or cheeks. She has a great variety of names, for, having gone over many countries in search of her husband, each people gave her a different name. She is thus called Mardal, Horn, Gefn, Syr, Skjalf and Thrung. It will also be remembered, from the chapter about Thor, that Freyja had a falcon-guise, and how the giant Thrym longed to possess her. In the lay of Hyndla, in the Elder Edda, Freyja comes to her friend and sister, the giantess Hyndla, and requests her to ride to Valhal, to ask for success for her favorite Ottar; promising the giantess to appease Odin and Thor, who of course were enemies to the giants. Hyndla is inclined to doubt Freyja’s remarks, especially as she comes to her with Ottar in the night. Who this Ottar was we do not know, excepting that he was a son of the Norse hero, Instein, and hence probably a Norseman. He was heir to an estate, but his right to it was disputed by Angantyr. It was therefore necessary to make his title good, and to enumerate his ancestors, but for this he was too ignorant. Meanwhile he had always been a devout worshiper of the asynjes (goddesses), and had especially worshiped Freyja by making sacrifices, images, and erecting altars to her. Hence it is that she wishes to help him in this important case, but finds that she is not able, and it was for this reason she saddled her golden boar and went to the wise giantess Hyndla, who was well posted in regard to the pedigrees, origin and fates of gods, giants and men. Hyndla consents to giving the information asked for, and so she enumerates first the immediate ancestors of Ottar on his father’s and mother’s side, then speaks of the king so famous in olden times, Halfdan Gamle, the original progenitor of the Skjolds and several other noble families of the North. And as these royal families were said to be descended from the gods and the latter again from the giants, Hyndla gives some of their genealogies also. Thus she gets an opportunity to speak of Heimdal and his giant mothers, then of Loke and of the monsters descended from him, which shall play so conspicuous a part in Ragnarok, then of the mighty god of thunder, and finally of a god yet more mighty, whom she ventures not to name, and here she ends her tale. She will not prophesy further than to where Odin is swallowed by the Fenris-wolf and the world by the yawning abyss. Freyja after this asks her for a drink of remembrance to give to Ottar, her guest and favorite, in order that he might be able to remember the whole talk and the pedigree two days afterwards, when the case between him and Angantyr should be decided by proofs of this kind. Hyndla refuses to do this, and upbraids her with abusive language. By this Freyja is excited to wrath and threatens to kindle a fire around the giantess, from which she would not be able to escape, if she did not comply with her request. When the threat begins to be carried out (at the breaking forth of the flaming aurora in the morning) Hyndla gives the requested drink, but at the same time curses it. Freyja is not terrified by this, but removes the curse by her blessing and earnest prayers to all divinities for the success of her beloved Ottar.
We should like to give the lay in full, as it is found in the Elder Edda, but having quoted several strophes from it before, and it being quite long, we reluctantly omit it. We advise our readers, however, by all means to read the Elder Edda. There is more profound thought in it than in any other human work, not even Shakespeare excepted. What a pity that it is so little known!
Women came after death to Freyja. When Egil Skallagrimson had lost his young son, and was despairing unto death on this account, his daughter Thorgerd, who was married to Olaf in Lax-aa-dal, comes to console him; and when she hears that he will neither eat nor drink, then she also says that she has not and will not eat or drink before she comes to Freyja. With her, lovers who have been faithful unto death are gathered; therefore Hagbard sings: Love is renewed in Freyja’s halls.
Freyja is the goddess of love between man and woman. Hence we find in her nature, beauty, grace, modesty, the longings, joys, and tears of love, and we find also that burning love in the heart which breaks out in wild flames. She rules in Folkvang, in the human dwellings, where there are seats enough for all. No one escapes her influence. Odin shares the slain equally with her, for the hero has two grand objects in view—to conquer his enemy and to win the heart of the maiden.
Thus the Norse mythology teaches us that the sturdy Norseman was not insusceptible to impressions from beauty nor unmoved by love. The most beautiful flowers were named after Freyja’s hair and eye-dew, and even animate objects, which, like the flowers, were remarkable for their beauty, were named after this goddess, as for instance the butterfly (Icel. Freyjuhœna—Freyja’s hen).
There is a semi-mythological Saga called Orvarodd’s Saga. Orvarodd signifies Arrow-odd; and as this same Arrow-odd is implicated in a large number of love exploits, it has been suggested that he may be Freyja’s husband, whose name the reader remembers was Oder, the stem of which is od, and hence we have in the North also not only a goddess of love, but also a god of love (Cupid), with his arrows!
Freyja’s cats symbolize sly fondling and sensual enjoyment. The name of her husband, Oder, means sense, understanding, but also wild desire. The various names bestowed upon Freyja when she travels among the different nations denote the various modes by which love reveals itself in human life. The goddesses Sjofn, Lofn, and Var, heretofore mentioned, were regarded as messengers and attendants of Freyja. Friday (dies Veneris) is named after her. (See page 237.)
The lives and exploits of the propitious divinities have now been presented; and in presenting the myths we have not only given the forces and phenomena of nature symbolized by the myths, but we have also tried to bring the mythology down from heaven to the earth, and exhibit the value it had in the minds of our ancestors. We have tried, as Socrates did with his philosophy, to show what influence the myths have had upon the life of our forefathers; in other words, we have tried to put a kernel into the shell. We have tried to present the mythology, not as the science and laws by which the universe is governed, but as something—call it science or what you will—by which to illustrate how the contemplation of the forces and phenomena of nature have influenced human thought and action. Language is in its origin nothing but impressions from nature, which having been revolved for a time in the human mind find their expression in words. Poetry is in its origin nothing else but expressions of human thought and feeling called forth by the contemplation of the wonderful works of God. And this is also true of mythology.
We have found the propitious divinities divided into three classes, those of heaven, those of earth, and those of the sea. The union or marriage between heaven and earth has been promoted in various myths. The king of heaven is but one, but he embraces the earth in various forms, and the earth is, in a new form, wedded to the god of thunder; nay, the vans, or divinities of the sea, arise and fill the land with blessings in various ways. The manner in which the gods are combined and interlinked with each other in one grand system is a feature peculiar to the Norse mythology. There is not, as in the Greek, a series of separate groups and separate dwellings, but the gods come in frequent contact with each other. Odin rules in the heavens, Thor in the clouds, Heimdal in the rainbow, Balder in the realms of light, Frey with his elves of light in the earth, but the sun affects them all: it is Odin’s eye, it is Balder’s countenance, Heimdal needs it for his rainbow, and Frey governs its rays; and still the sun itself rides as a beaming maid with her horses from morning until evening. The earth has its various forms, and the seed planted in the earth has its own god (Frey), surrounded by the spirits of the groves, the forests and the fountains. And the king of heaven unites man with nature; he not only provides for his animal life, but also breathes into him a living soul and inspires him with enthusiasm. He sits with Saga at the fountain of history; he sends out his son Brage, the god of poetry and eloquence, and unites him with Idun, the rejuvenating goddess, whose carefully protected rivers meander through the grove full of fruit trees bearing golden apples; and he lets his other son, Balder, the ruler of light, marry the industrious flower-goddess, Nanna, who with her maids spreads a fragrant carpet over the earth. And as the god of thunder rules but to protect heaven and earth, so the naked desert and the impenetrable forest exist only to remind us of the incorruptible vital force of nature, safe against all attacks. The imperishableness of nature appears more strikingly in the stupendous mountains and gigantic forests than in the fertile, cultivated and protected parts of the earth. Now let us again ask: Is there nothing here for the poet or artist? Has the Norse mythology nothing that can be elaborated and clothed with beautiful forms and colors? Does this mythology not contain germs that art can develop into fragrant leaves, swelling buds and radiant blossoms? Does not this our Gothic inheritance deserve a place with the handmaids of literature? Will not our poets, public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and writers of elegant literature generally, who make so many quaint allusions to, and borrow so many elegant and suggestive illustrations from, Greek mythology; will they not, we say, do their own ancestors the honor to dip their pen occasionally into the mythology of the Gothic race? It is bad practice to borrow when we can get along without it, besides the products of the south thrive not well in our northern Gothic soil and climate. Ygdrasil grows better here, and that is a tree large enough and fruitful enough to sustain the Gothic race with enthusiasm and inspiration for centuries yet to come, and to supply a a whole race of future bards and poets and artists with a precious and animating elixir. Our next generation will comprehend this.
We have now made an acquaintance with the lives and exploits or the good and propitious divinities, with the asas and vans. But what of the evil? Whence come they, and how have they been developed? Many a philosopher has puzzled his brain with this vexed question, and the wisest minds are still engaged in deep meditations in regard to it. It is and will remain an unsolved problem. But what did the old Goths, and particularly our Norse forefathers, think about the development of evil? What forms did it assume among them? How did it spring forth in nature, and how did it impress the minds and hearts of the people? These are questions now to be answered.
There are in the Norse mythology two individuals by the name of Loke. The one is Utgard-Loke, hideous in his whole being, and his character was sketched in the myth about Thor and Skrymer (see pp. 312-322); he represents physical and moral evil in all its naked loathsomeness. The other is Asa-Loke, of whom there also have been accounts given at various times in connection with the propitious gods; and it is of him solely we are now to speak, as the former belongs wholly to the race of giants. Asa-Loke, whom we shall hereafter call by his common name, Loke, is the same evil principle in all its various manifestations; but as he makes his appearance among the gods, he represents evil in the seductive and seemingly beautiful form in which it glides about through the world. We find him flowing in the veins of the human race and call him sin, or passion. In nature he is the corrupting element in air, fire and water. In the bowels of the earth he is the volcanic flame, in the sea he appears as a fierce serpent, and in the lower world we recognize him as pale death. Thus, like Odin, Loke pervades all nature. And in no divinity is it more clear than in this, that the idea proceeding from the visible workings of nature entered the human heart and mind and there found its moral or ethical reflection. Loke symbolises sin, shrewdness, deceitfulness, treachery, malice, etc. Loke is indeed in his development one of the profoundest myths. In the beginning he was intimately connected with Odin, then he became united with the air, and finally he impersonates the destructive fire. And in these changes he keeps growing worse and worse.
In the banquet of Æger he reminds Odin that they in the beginning of time had their blood mixed. Thus the Elder Edda:
Sameness of blood symbolizes sameness of mind, and Loke is in the Younger Edda called Odin’s brother, the uncle of the gods. Under the name of Loder, or Lopter, Loke took part in the creation of man; he gave the senses, the sources of evil desires, the passions, the fire of the veins. Thus he is like the fire, which is beneficent and necessary for development, but also dangerous and destructive. With the giantess Angerboda (producing sorrow) he begat the wolf Fenrer, but the most disgusting monster is the woman Hel, who is a daughter of Loke. Odin unites himself with the gigantic force in nature, but he does this to develop, ennoble and elevate it. Loke unites himself with crude matter, but by this union he only still further develops the evil principle, which then expresses itself in all kinds of terrible phenomena: the sea tosses its waves against heaven itself, and rushes out upon the land; the air trembles; then comes snow and howling winds; the rain splashes down upon the earth, etc. Such is also his influence upon the human mind. He is the sly, treacherous father of lies. In appearance he is beautiful and fair, but in his mind he is evil, and in his inclinations he is inconstant. Notwithstanding his being ranked among the gods, he is the slanderer of the gods, the grand contriver of deceit and fraud, the reproach of gods and men. Nobody renders him divine honors. He surpasses all mortals in the arts of perfidy and craft.
There is some dispute about the real meaning of Loke’s name. Some derive it from the Icelandic lúka, to end, thus arguing that Loke is the end and consummation of divinity. Another definition is given, taken from the Icelandic logi (Anglo-Saxon lîg), according to which the primary meaning would be fire, flame. He is also called Loder, or Lopter (the aërial; compare Norse luft, Anglo-Saxon lyft, air); and this would seem to corroborate the definition of Loke as fire. Loder (lodern, to blaze) would then designate him in the character of the blazing earthly fire, and Lopter as the heated and unsteady air. He is son of the giant Farbaute, that is, the one who strikes the ships, the wind. His mother is Laufey, or Nal, the former meaning leaf-isle, and the latter needle. Oak trees produce leaves and pines produce needles; both Laufey and Nal are therefore combustibles. His brothers are Byleist (dwelling destroyer, raging flame), and Helblinde, the latter being another name for Odin.
In the previous chapters it has frequently been seen how Loke time and again accompanied the gods, they making use of his strength and cunning; but it has also been shown how he acted in concert with the jotuns and exposed the gods to very great perils and then extricated them again by his artifices. By Loke’s advice the gods engage the artificer to build a dwelling so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost-giants. For this the artificer is to receive Freyja, providing he completes his work within a stipulated time; but Loke prevented him from completing his task by the birth of Sleipner. When the dwarfs forge the precious things for the gods, it is he who brings about that the work lacks perfection, and even the handle of Thor’s mallet, Mjolner, becomes too short; for evil is everywhere present and makes the best things defective. He cuts the hair of the goddess Sif, and by this he makes way for the forging of the precious articles; thus evil often in spite of itself produces good results. Examples of this abound in the history of the world. Loke gives Thjasse an opportunity to rob Idun, but brings her back again and thus causes Thjasse’s death. He hungers at Geirrod’s, and causes Thor to undertake his dangerous journey; but he also looks after Thor’s hammer, and accompanies him as maid-servant to get it back. He steals Freyja’s Brisingamen, and quarrels with Heimdal about it. But his worst deed is Balder’s death. For these reasons Loke is in Old Norse poetry called: son of Farbaute, son of Laufey, son of Nal, brother of Byleist, brother of Helblinde, father of the Fenris-wolf, father of the Midgard-serpent, father of Hel, uncle of Odin, visitor and chest-goods of Geirrod, thief of Brisingamen and of Idun’s apples, defender of Sigyn (his wife), Sif’s hair destroyer, adviser of Balder’s bane, etc.
Odin, Hœner and Loke are often together. It is related that they once set out to explore the whole world. They came to a stream, and followed it until they came to a force (cascade) where there sat an otter near the force. It had caught a salmon in the force and sat half sleeping eating it. Then Loke picked up a stone and threw it at the otter, struck it in the head and then boasted of his deed, for he had killed or captured both the otter and salmon with one stone. They then took the salmon and otter with them and came to a gard (farm), where they entered the house. The bonde,[75] who lived there, hight Hreidmar, an able fellow well skilled in necromancy. The gods asked for night lodgings, but added that they were supplied with provisions whereupon they showed what they had caught. But when Hreidmar saw the otter he called to him his sons Fafner and Regin, and told them that their brother Odder (otter) Wad been slain, and who had done it. Father and sons then attack the gods, overpower and bind them, and then inform them that the otter was Hreidmar’s son. The gods offered a ransom for their lives, as large as Hreidmar himself would determine it; they made a treaty accordingly, confirming it with oaths. When the otter then had been flayed, Hreidmar took the skin and demanded that they should fill it with shining gold and then perfectly cover it with the same. These were the terms of agreement. Then Odin sent Loke to the home of the swarthy elves (Svartalf-heim), where he met the dwarf Andvare (wary, cautious spirit), who lived as a fish, in the water. Loke borrowed Ran’s net and caught him, and demanded of him, as a ransom for his life, all the gold he had in the rock, where he dwelt. And when they came into the rock the dwarf produced all the gold which he possessed, which was a considerable amount; but Loke observed that the dwarf concealed under his arm a gold ring, and ordered him to give it up. The dwarf prayed Loke by all means to let him keep it; for when he kept this ring, he said, he could produce for himself more of the metal from it. But Loke said that he should not keep so much as a penny, and took the ring from him, and went out. Then said the dwarf, that that ring should be the bane of the person who possessed it. Loke had no objection to this, and said that, in order that this purpose should be kept, he should bring these words to the knowledge of him who should possess it. Then Loke returned to Hreidmar, and showed Odin the gold; but when the latter saw the ring he thought it was pretty; he therefore, taking it, gave Hreidmar the rest of the gold. Hreidmar then filled the otter-skin as well as he could, and set it down when it was full. Then Odin went to cover the bag with gold, and afterwards bade Hreidmar whether the bag was perfectly covered; but Hreidmar examined, and looked carefully in every place, and found an uncovered hair near the mouth, which Odin would have to cover, or the agreement would be broken. Then Odin produced the ring and covered the hair with it, and said that they now had paid the otter-ransom. But when Odin had taken his spear, and Loke his shoes, so that they had nothing more to fear, Loke said that the curse of the dwarf Andvare should be fulfilled, and that this gold and this ring should be the bane of him who possessed it. From this myth it is that gold is poetically called otter-ransom.
And the curse was fulfilled. This curse of ill-gotten gold became the root of a series of mortal calamities, which are related in the latter part of the Elder Edda, in the songs about Sigurd Fafner’s bane, or the Slayer of Fafner; about Brynhild, about Gudrun’s sorrow, Gudrun’s revenge, in the song about Atle, etc. The curse on the gold, pronounced upon it by Andvare, the dwarf, is the grand moral in these wonderful songs, and never was moral worked out more terribly. Even Shakespeare has no tragedy equal to it. When Odin and Loke had gone away, Fafner and Regin demanded from their father, Hreidmar, a share of the ransom in the name of their brother Odder; but Hreidmar refused, so Fafner pierced his father with a sword while he slept. Thus Hreidmar died, but Fafner took all the gold. Then Regin demanded his paternal inheritance, but Fafner refused to give it, and disappeared. Another prominent character in the Edda is Sigurd, who frequently visited Regin and told him that Fafner, having assumed the shape of a monstrous dragon, lay on Gnita Heath, and had Æger’s helmet, the helmet of terror, before which all living trembled. Regin made a sword for Sigurd, which was called Gram; it was so sharp that when it stood in the river and a tuft of wool floated on the current, the sword would cut the wool as easily as the water. With this sword Sigurd cut Regin’s anvil in twain. Regin excites Sigurd to kill Fafner, and accordingly Sigurd and Regin proceeded on their way to Gnita Heath, and discovered Fafner’s path, whereupon the latter (Fafner) crept into the water. In the way Sigurd dug a large grave and went down into it. When Fafner now crept away from the gold he spit poison, but this flew over Sigurd’s head, and as Fafner passed over the grave Sigurd pierced him with his sword to the heart. Fafner trembled convulsively, and fiercely shook his head and tail. Sigurd sprang out of the grave when they saw each other. Then a conversation takes place between them, in which Fafner heaps curses upon Sigurd until the former expires. Regin had gone away while Sigurd killed Fafner, but came back while Sigurd was wiping the blood off the sword.
Then went Regin to Fafner and cut the heart out of him with the sword called Ridel, and afterwards drank the blood from the wound. He said: