The Children of Odin: The Book of Northern MythsColum, Padraic
General
The Children of Odin: The Book of Northern Myths
Colum, Padraic
Mythology, Norse -- Juvenile literature
"Thou canst not break it, Fenrir, and we need not dread thee any more,"
the Gods said.
Then was the Wolf ravenous wroth, for he lived on the fear that he made
in the minds of the Gods. "I am loth to have this binding upon me," he
said, "but if one of the Æsir will put his hand in my mouth as a pledge
that I shall be freed of it, I will let ye put it on me."
The Gods looked wistfully on one another. It would be health to them all
to have Fenrir bound, but who would lose his hand to have it done? One
and then another of the Æsir stepped backward. But not Tyr, the brave
swordsman. He stepped to Fenrir and laid his left hand before those
tremendous jaws.
"Not thy left hand--thy swordhand, O Tyr," growled Fenrir, and Tyr put
his swordhand into that terrible mouth.
Then the cord Gleipnir was put upon Fenrir. With fiery eyes he watched
the Gods bind him. When the binding was on him he stretched himself as
before. He stretched himself to a monstrous size but the binding did not
break off him. Then with fury he snapped his jaws upon the hand, and
Tyr's hand, the swordsman's hand, was torn off.
But Fenrir was bound. They fixed a mighty chain to the fetter, and they
passed the chain through a hole they bored through a great rock. The
monstrous Wolf made terrible efforts to break loose, but the rock and
the chain and the fetter held. Then seeing him secured, and to avenge
the loss of Tyr's hand, the Gods took Tyr's sword and drove it to the
hilt through his underjaw. Horribly the Wolf howled. Mightily the foam
flowed down from his jaws. That foam flowing made a river that is called
Von--a river of fury that flowed on until Ragnarök came, the Twilight of
the Gods.
[Illustration]
BALDUR'S DOOM
In Asgard there were two places that meant strength and joy to the Æsir
and the Vanir: one was the garden where grew the apples that Iduna
gathered, and the other was the Peace Stead, where, in a palace called
Breidablik, Baldur the Well-Beloved dwelt.
In the Peace Stead no crime had ever been committed, no blood had ever
been shed, no falseness had ever been spoken. Contentment came into the
minds of all in Asgard when they thought upon this place. Ah! Were it
not that the Peace Stead was there, happy with Baldur's presence, the
minds of the Æsir and the Vanir might have become gloomy and stern from
thinking on the direful things that were arrayed against them.
Baldur was beautiful. So beautiful was he that all the white blossoms on
the earth were called by his name. Baldur was happy. So happy was he
that all the birds on the earth sang his name. So just and so wise was
Baldur that the judgment he pronounced might never be altered. Nothing
foul or unclean had ever come near where he had his dwelling:
'Tis Breidablik called,
Where Baldur the Fair
Hath built him a bower,
In the land where I know
Least loathliness lies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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