Asgard and the Gods
The Tales and Traditions of Our Northern Ancestors
The Golden Age
The poems of the skalds tell us of the Golden Age, that happy time of child-like innocence. No human being lived then on the green earth, which was inhabited by the Ases, who dwelt there without restrictions of any kind, or any longing after the unattainable. They had no past dimmed with tears, no difficulties in the present, nor did the future threaten them with a grievous doom. They lived for days and years in untroubled joy. They laid up stores of food, made hammers, tongs, anvils and tools of all kinds for themselves. They forged metals and carved wood, and whatever they did was beautiful to look upon. They had so much gold that they used it for making their household utensils. Still they did not know the value of the metal, and only liked it because it was bright and pleasant to look upon. They called this happy time the Golden Age, because life was then without care or sorrow, and not because of their wealth. They built houses and holy-places for themselves; they played merry games with golden disks in the court-yard and on the Field of Ida. They felt neither love of money nor desire of gain, nor yet did they ever wish to do themselves good to the injury of others.
Then they jestingly created the numerous race of Dwarfs, who burrowed in the earth and brought its hidden treasures forth to the light of day. The Ases looked covetously at the glittering hoard, and then the Golden Age, the time of innocence, passed away.
After that Gullweig (golden step), the wicked enchantress, was born. Three times the Ases thrust her into the smelting-pot, and each time she rose again more wondrously entrancing than before, so that their whole souls were filled with covetousness and other evil desires.
SIN
Gullweig was probably the cause of the first war, the war between the Ases and Wanes. She glided about from one camp to the other stirring up dissension. But fortunately peace was soon concluded. The eyes of the gods were now opened, so that they perceived the danger that threatened them. They saw the Mountain-Giants and Hrimthurses far away over in Jotunheim, saw how they had increased in numbers, how they had already made good their entrance into Midgard, and were looking threateningly up at beautiful Asgard, with its palaces, perfumed groves and flowery meads.
Heimdal was a faithful watchman, but still the Ases feared lest he should be taken unawares. So they assembled in their hall of judgment, and took counsel together how best they might ensure their safety. It seemed to them that their surest plan would be to build a wall round Asgard, reaching to the skies, in which strong doors should be placed.
While they were consulting as to the best way of carrying out their plan, a tall, stately man, with a disagreeable expression of countenance, came up and offered to complete the wall, without help from any one, in three winters. He said that he was a smith, a very skilful man, and that he thoroughly understood the art of building. In payment for his work he demanded that divine Freya should be given him to wife, and that he should also have the sun and moon awarded him, as they would make such good lights for him to work by. The Ases were undetermined; but Loki, the arch-scoundrel, whispered in their ears that they should promise to grant the builder's request on condition that he finished the work in the course of one winter. The man consented to these terms, saying that he would wager his head he could finish the work within the appointed time, if he were allowed to have the help of his horse Swadilfari. Again the Ases hesitated, but Loki strongly urged that they should consent, as an unreasoning animal could not be of much use.
So the bargain was concluded, and each party swore holy oaths by dark Hel, by the Leipter Flood and the primaeval icebergs, that the conditions made on either side should be fulfilled faithfully and truly.
The work was begun on the first day of winter. The Ases saw what monstrous loads of rocks and stones the builder's horse carried, swift as the wind, wherever his master desired. The wall grew apace, and was strong and solid as an iceberg. It was as smooth and shining as polished steel, and at the end of winter it was nearly finished.
The great gate of the fortress was now alone to be made, and that could be easily done in the three days that were still to elapse before the beginning of summer.
The Ases consulted together in their distress, for if the smith were to carry Freya and the sun and moon away with him in payment for his work, beauty and sweetness would vanish from Asgard, and eternal night would overwhelm the world.
Many of the gods longed for the presence of strong Thor, who had been far away waging war on monsters of all kinds when the contract was made with the smith, and who had not yet returned. They seated themselves on their thrones of judgment, and tried to find a way out of their difficulty. They asked each other who it was that had advised them to conclude the bargain with the smith. Every one knew that it was the author of all evil - false, treacherous Loki. Then they all crowded round him accusing and threatening him.
"Let him die a shameful death," they cried, "if he does not help us out of our difficulty."
Loki tremblingly promised, with a holy oath, that he would prevent the builder finishing the wall, and would thus deprive him of his reward.
The next day, when the smith went to the mountains with Swadilfari, to fetch stones and wood for his work, a mare galloped towards them whinnying. Immediately the horse rushed to meet her, kicking the cart and harness in pieces. He followed the flying mare through wood and meadow, pursued by the breathless smith.
The pursuit lasted the whole day and night, and when the builder at length succeeded in catching his horse they were both so exhausted that they could do nothing next day.
That evening, as the man stood looking at the wall which he knew he could not now finish in time, a giant's rage came over him. He accused the Ases of being false perjured gods, who had deprived him of his just reward by cunning and by treachery. He threatened to make himself master of Asgard by force, and lifted huge rocks and trunks of trees with which to destroy the place and its inhabitants. And now the Ases perceived that he was a giant, and that they had allowed one of their deadly enemies to enter their holy city. They cried aloud for strong Thor to come and defend them against the giant.
A thunder clap was heard, a flash of lightning lit up the darkness, the earth trembled, and Thor was standing between the Ases and the enraged giant. He at once recognised the Hrimthurse, flung Miölnir and broke the giant's skull, which was as hard as a stone, and bits of it went flying in all directions. The black soul of the monster sank into Nifelhel, which was its proper habitation.
In course of time the mare that had enticed Swadilfari from his work had an eight-legged foal, and this foal was Sleipnir, which when it was grown became Odin's horse, and used to bear the Father of the gods swift as the wind through the air and over the waves of the sea. But the Ases had sinned, they had broken their oath; for they had sworn to fulfil the contract they had made with the smith without trickery of any kind, and the Jotun had justly charged them with perjury. Their tempter was Loki, and lie it was who in the form of the mare had enticed Swadilfari away from his work, and had thus prevented the completion of the wall.
IDUNA'S DEPARTURE
Fair Iduna had made herself an airy dwelling amongst the green branches of the world-tree Yggdrasil. There she received her beloved husband, Bragi, every evening, and he rejoiced her heart with his songs. The woodland birds joined their singing to his, and the music they made was so sweet that even the grave Norns were touched by it.
When all living things were sunk in sleep, the goddess sprinkled the ash from the well into which the divine mead had flowed that had been brought there by Odin, and so the World-tree remained fresh and green. The well, like the mead, was called Odrörir, and was that draught of inspiration which Gunlöd had once kept hidden in a mountain, but which Odin had rescued for the needs of gods and men. Like Iduna's apples, it had the power of making all who tasted it younger and more beautiful, and was identical with the fountain of Urd, with the water of which the Norns sprinkled Yggdrasil. Unnumbered years passed away; the World-tree flourished and remained young and strong as ever, thanks to the care of the Norns and Iduna; Bragi sang to his wife and to the world; but sin had defiled Ases and men, holy oaths were broken, truth, faith and the fear of God had disappeared, murder and war were everywhere to be seen; then it was that the Destruction of the Universe came nearer, and the Wolf rattled his chains preparatory to breaking them.
Now it happened about this time that one evening neither the songs of Bragi nor of the birds were to be heard, that the branches of Yggdrasil hung down sapless and withered, and that Odrörir seemed to have dried up. Next morning, when the Ases, terrified by these signs, asked for Iduna, they found that she had fallen from the tree down into the deep valleys below to the daughter of Norwi (night). The well was really dried up, and every green thing threatened to fade and wither.
So Odin sent his raven, Hugin, away to find out the meaning of these portents of evil. Quick as thought the messenger flew through the wide heavens, and then sank down into the realm of the Dwarfs, Dain (dead) and Thrain (stiff), both of whom knew what should come to pass. But they were lying sunk in a heavy trance-like sleep, and in their sleep they moaned indistinctly some few words about coming horrors and flames. The Ases, therefore, knew not what to do, and watched all nature and Yggdrasil slowly fading and dying. They stretched a wolf-skin, white and soft as the winter's snow, over the abyss where Iduna lay sorrowing, that she might no more see her happy home amongst the ash-boughs. The Father of the Gods sent Heimdal, the faithful watchman, cunning Loki, and sorrowful Bragi to question the fair goddess as to the future. The messengers, after passing innumerable werewolves on their way, at last came to the place where Iduna was lying, pale and sad. They asked her eagerly what she could tell them of future events, but she only answered them with tears.
Heimdal and Loki returned full of sorrow, but Bragi stayed with his wife, that she might not die of grief. After the return of the messenger, the Ases consulted together as to what was to be done next. But they were all weary and much in need of rest, so the Father of the Ases dismissed the assembly until the morrow.
Next morning, when Odin awoke, he found Frigga standing weeping by his bed. Her lips trembled as she told him that her son Baldur, the well-beloved, had dreamt that pale Hel had come to him and had signed to him to follow her. Then the mighty god arose in his strength. He had made up his mind what to do he would seek intelligence of the realm of the dead; he must know what was coming upon the world and the Ases.
This is what we learn from the lay called "Odin's Magic Raven" (Hrafnagalder), which is a description of the beginning of autumn or early winter. Would the goddess Iduna rise again in spring and bring new life to the dead leaves and flowers, or was her departure a sign that the Last Battle was about to be fought, and that the flames of Surtur would soon begin their devastating work? These questions filled the minds of the Ases.
One writer states that in his opinion the events mentioned in this poem refer to an unusual drought in Osning, and to the long cessation of the flow of the intermittent spring which, with other brooks, forms the Bullerborn, and which has never once dried up since 1630. Still, it must be remembered, while considering this interesting hypothesis, that a northern skald translated the original Saxon poem, or rather worked the idea of it out anew, and that as he did so he was filled with the thought that Iduna's departure, and the fading and dying of all nature, portended the approach of the Last Battle.