The Aesir mistreated the old witch Gullveig, who lived with the Vanir. In revenge, the Vanir prepared to attack. But the Aesir made a preemptive attack. The bloody battle went on for eons.
The Aesir mistreated the old witch Gullveig, who lived with the Vanir. In revenge, the Vanir prepared to attack. But the Aesir made a preemptive attack. The bloody battle went on for eons.
The two groups of gods living in the cosmos didn’t trust each other much. Rather, they were wary to the extreme. One day a witch named Gullveig, who lived with the Vanir in Vanaheim, visited the Aesir, living in Asgard. No one’s really sure why, but Gullveig walked into Odin’s hall and blathered about gold, about how it glistened and how much she loved it. The Aesir listened with growing disdain and finally did the unforgivable: They jammed spears into her everywhere. Then they tossed her into a fire and burned her to death. All she had done was annoy them with her incessant talk, and just look what they did to her!
But Gullveig stepped right back out of the flames, alive and whole. A second time they threw her in, and a second time she stepped back out. And yet a third time. By that point the astonished Aesir realized this witch had powers beyond anything they’d dreamed of, so they moved aside and let her wander wherever she wished in the halls of Asgard. Troublemakers followed her; the more wicked the followers, the more they admired Gullveig. Word got back to the Vanir of how dreadfully the Aesir had treated Gullveig. Vengeance seemed a duty; they prepared for war.
From his high seat in Valaskjalf, Odin saw what was happening over in Vanaheim. He saw them sharpening spearheads and polishing shields. So, he prepared a preemptive strike, and the Aesir cast the first spear. But the Vanir were already surging forward on their mounts, trampling the fields between the two worlds.
In the Icelandic sagas Odin’s warriors put on animal fur coverings. Wolf fur let them fight with trickery. Bear fur let them wrestle with strength. Their fighting bordered on insanity; they went berserk (ber was the Old Norse word for “bear”). The Vikings, likewise, were known for their ferocious frenzy in battle. These “berserkers” terrorized much of northern Europe in the late 700s until the early 900s, but their more mild Norse compatriots settled peacefully throughout the same area.
The battle went on and on. That’s how battles between gods are. Both sides are immensely powerful, after all. But the longer the battle endured, the clearer it became to all that a victor was unlikely. The gods wearied of the futility of this dreary war. Finally, the leaders of the Vanir and the Aesir sat down to hash things out. They couldn’t agree on almost anything, but they wanted so much just to end that plague of war that they drew up a truce. And to show their sincerity, they exchanged hostages: Two from each group would go to live with the other group.
The Vanir sent the very wealthy god Njord and his son Frey to Asgard. Frey’s twin sister, Freyja, and Kvasir, the wisest Vanir, accompanied those two on their journey and ended up staying there. The Aesir welcomed them honorably. Njord and Frey were appointed high priests to preside over sacrifices. Freyja became a sacrificial priestess, and she taught the gods all the spiritual, medical, and magical knowledge that she had, which was considerable.
The Aesir, for their part, sent Hoenir and Mimir to Vanaheim. Hoenir was strong and big; he certainly looked like he’d make a fine leader. And Mimir, though he was a giant, was considered the wisest Aesir—definitely comparable to Kvasir. All seemed good to the Vanir. They put Hoenir in a position of power and Mimir stood to his right and advised him. Together they made shrewd decisions. But if Mimir left Hoenir’s side, the tall and handsome Hoenir turned silent. When asked a question, he refused to speak. The Vanir felt cheated. In fury, they cut off Mimir’s head and sent it back to Odin.
Why they cut off poor Mimir’s head because of closed-mouthed Hoenir is unfathomable. Gods had their own ways of doing things.
Odin was bereft, for Mimir had been a fine and true friend. He held that severed head in his arms and crooned to it. Then he coated it with herbs that would retard decay and sang magic incantations over it. The head of Mimir regained its power of speech and thenceforth became a font of wisdom for Odin.
The Aesir sent the wise giant Mimir to their rival gods, the Vanir, in an exchange. But the Vanir got angry and cut off poor Mimir’s head. Odin grieved for his lost friend.
And thus the first war in the cosmos began and ended. But it wasn’t the last. Humans waged war often. And the gods treated the corpses of men who died in battle very well. They didn’t go to Hel. No, no. Half of them went to Asgard to live in a special hall called Valhalla, where spear shafts served as rafters and the roof was thatched with shields. At the western door lurked a wolf with an eagle hovering overhead. To arrive in Valhalla, the fallen warriors had to cross a large, noisy river. Once there, Odin welcomed them heartily. He had straw strewn on the benches in the hall to make them comfortable; he had all the goblets polished, for he already foresaw needing these warriors. Someday, he knew, there would be a final great battle among gods, humans, monsters, giants, everyone—the all-consuming Ragnarok. Warriors would be invaluable.
The Valkyries flew on their horses over battlefields and chose the best fallen warriors to bring back to Valhalla. The warriors feasted and practiced their martial arts there, preparing for the great battle of Ragnarok that would come someday.
Odin’s helper maids, the Valkyries, put on silver helmets from which their golden hair flowed out and red corselet armor that emphasized their beautiful bodies, and they rode on white horses through the air over the battlefields below. They must have appeared both terrifying and alluring to the sweaty, exhausted men as they lay dying. The Valkyries carried the chosen dead up to Valhalla.
And what a fine routine met these warriors there in Valhalla. Every night they feasted on overflowing platters of pork from the beast Saehrimnir, roasted in the cauldron Eldhrimnir by the soot-covered cook Andhrimnir. They drank never ending mead that came from the udders of the goat Heidrun, the one that ate the tender shoots of the tree Yggdrasil. Every day they battled together, and those who fell in these heavenly battles simply rose again at the end of the day and marched through the 540 doors of the hall to join the feast anew, since everything regenerated of its own accord.
The other half of the dead on the battlefield were gathered up by the priestess Freyja, the Vanir goddess who had taught everyone in Asgard so much about the wonders of the cosmos. She brought them to her heavenly field called Folkvang, where they, too, were groomed for the final battle, Ragnarok.
It’s as though right from the beginning of time everyone was preparing for the end of it all.
