5

Loki Makes Mischief

After the adventure of the Giant mason a change seemed to come over Loki. His cunning grew unkinder; his gay impudence seemed often to be slyness; and he spent more and more of his time away from Asgard.

Wise Odin saw the change in him, and was troubled. For already he understood enough of the future to know that one of the Æsir was destined to prove a traitor. And who more likely than Loki, who had been born a Giant?

Odin sat upon Lidskialf, his high throne above Asgard, and looked down upon all the worlds. Suddenly in distant Jotunheim he saw Loki playing with three monsters in the courtyard of a dark castle.

Swiftly he sent for Hermodur his son, the messenger of the Æsir:

‘Go straightway to Jotunheim,’ he commanded. ‘Loki our companion has forgotten that he is one of the Æsir and is dwelling in the castle of Angurboda the Giantess. Bid him come to me without delay.’

Swift as light Hermodur sprang away, leapt upon Sleipnir, Odin’s eight-legged horse, and was gone.

Very soon Loki stood before Odin in the groves of Asgard, an impudent smile on his lips, but fear lurking in his eyes.

‘No, I do not forget that I am of the Æsir, nor that the Giants are deadly foes to us,’ said Loki, when Odin had spoken of what he had seen. ‘But remember, your mother Bestla was of that race – and she was my father’s cousin … We Æsir can mingle with the Giants without taking their side. And it chanced when I led the horse Svadilfari into Jotunheim, and so saved Asgard from the Giant who would have taken Freya, the Sun, and the Moon in spite of all that any of you could do – it happened that I saw the most lovely of all the Giant race, fair Angurboda. I loved her, she loved me – we are married, and three strange children have been born to us.’

‘It is not right that the Æsir should wed with the Giants and have monsters for children –’ began Odin.

‘Indeed,’ sneered Loki. ‘Yet you, Allfather of Asgard and Midgard, once wedded Jord. Were not Anar her father and Nott her mother both of the Giant race? And is her son and yours – is great Thor a monster?’

‘Loki, you speak of things which you do not understand,’ said Odin. ‘It was only in obedience to the wisdom of Mimir, and to the will of the Norns, that I wedded kindly Jord, the Earth-Giantess, in the faraway days when the world was still in the making. Without Thor, we could not have stood against the Giants, as well you know. Thor came as our protection, but I very much fear that these children of yours are born to destroy us.’

Then Odin commanded his sons to bring the children of Loki to Asgard, and they set out for Jotunheim with Thor and Tyr in the lead.

When they returned, they led with them such monsters that the queens of the Æsir, Frigga and Sif, Iduna and lovely Freya, might well turn pale at the sight of them.

For the youngest was Hela, with one half of her body living, human flesh, and the other half the livid hue of decay. The second was the great serpent Jormungand, rising like a twisted pillar of evil. And the eldest was the Fenris Wolf – the biggest and the fiercest of all wolves.

‘These I may not slay,’ said Odin, ‘for the course of fate cannot be broken, and the web of the Norns once woven cannot be unpicked. But go, Hela, daughter of Loki, and find your own realm below Nifelheim: to you shall come the spirits of the dead who do not fall in battle. Across the river Gioll they must go – the river that none may cross again – and there Garm of the Bloody Breast, the watchdog of Helheim, shall guard your grey domains. Go, Queen of the Dead!’

Odin stretched out his hand, and with a bitter cry Hela sank through the earth, down to the lowest world, there to reign until Ragnarok, the Day of the Last Great Battle, shall dawn.

Next Odin took Jormungand and flung him into the sea; and there he grew and grew until he encircled the earth, and held his tail in his mouth; and there, as the Midgard Serpent, he too is fated to remain until the Day of Ragnarok.

But the Fenris Wolf was kept in Asgard, though only Tyr dared go near him each day to give him meat.

He grew and grew, however, and became more and more dangerous. And Odin learnt from Mimir’s Head that this Wolf was destined to be their destruction. He knew that he might not kill him, so now he called the Æsir together once more, and set out the case.

‘Leave him to me!’ muttered Thor. ‘I shall see whether we can kill him or not!’

‘It must not be,’ said Odin firmly. ‘He is the child of one of us, and to slay any in Asgard would bring the Day of Ragnarok upon us more swiftly than anything which the Giants could do.’

‘Then let us take him away and tie him up with a chain which he cannot break,’ said Thor. And this they decided to do.

So they made a very strong chain called Laeding, and took it and showed it to the Wolf.

‘You are so strong,’ said Tyr. ‘Suppose you try and see if you can break this chain!’

The Fenris Wolf looked at Laeding, and curled up his lips in a snarl of contempt.

‘Bind me if you wish,’ he growled scornfully.

So they fastened Laeding round him, linked the ends together, and stood back to watch.

Fenris rose, shook himself, and stretched lazily – and the chain Laeding broke into small pieces that fell tinkling to the ground.

After this the Æsir laboured long and carefully making another and far stronger chain, while Fenris howled in the courtyard of Asgard and grew mightier day by day.

When the second chain, the chain Dromi, was finished, Tyr took it and showed it to Fenris, and the Wolf grinned wickedly when he saw it.

‘You broke Laeding so easily,’ said Tyr, ‘that we feel you have not had a real trial of strength. But now we have put all our skill into making this chain. See if you can escape from Dromi as easily as you did from Laeding.’

Fenris examined Dromi, and saw that it was very strong and heavy.

‘It will be a little harder,’ he said. ‘But bind me up, and I’ll dash out of Dromi as surely as I lashed out of Laeding. I have grown in strength since my first feat!’

So the Æsir gathered in the courtyard, and once again the Fenris Wolf was bound in chains as securely as Thor and Tyr could make them.

This time he strained and struggled in the iron grip of Dromi, beat it against the stone pavement and stretched his hardest. In the end it flew into fragments as Laeding had done, and he cried exultantly:

‘See! I have indeed dashed out of Dromi! What are your puny chains to me? But I am tired of this sport. You cannot find a chain to hold me, so trouble me no more with any such nonsense.’

Fenris went to his dinner, stuffed himself with raw meat, and lay down contentedly – rejoicing to see from his shadow that he was still growing.

The Æsir, however, met again in council, and even Thor looked grave. But wise Frey rose up and said:

‘It is evident that none of the Æsir, nor of the Vanir, can make a chain strong enough to hold the Fenris Wolf. And if we cannot, no man in Midgard can either; and I doubt whether any Giant in Jotunheim could do it.’

‘Let us have no more dealings with Giants,’ muttered Thor. ‘A Giant smith might be just as dangerous as a Giant mason was!’

‘No, I would not counsel any help out of Jotunheim,’ said Frey. ‘But let me now send my faithful messenger Skirnir to the land beyond Nifelheim, to Svartalfheim, the home of the Black Elves. There dwell certain Dwarfs who are more skilled in the forging of chains than any in all the Nine Worlds.’

The Æsir agreed to this, and Skirnir the messenger set forth.

When he returned he carried with him a grey chain of tiny links which was as soft and smooth as a silken ribbon: and he carried it easily in one hand.

‘This is the chain Gleipnir,’ he said as he handed it to Frey. ‘The Dwarfs swore to me that it alone could hold the Fenris Wolf, and that he would not break from it until the day of Ragnarok, when all bonds will be broken.’

‘The chain looks thin and weak,’ mused Odin, letting it run through his fingers.

‘It is a magic chain, made with the aid of many spells,’ answered Skirnir. ‘Six things went to its making, so the Dwarfs bade me say: the sound of a cat’s foot-fall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a rock, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird. And indeed you may now perceive that a cat’s foot-fall no longer makes a sound, women now have no beards, and you cannot find the roots of a rock: as for the other things I have not yet put them to the test.’

So Odin slipped the chain into his pouch, and he and most of the Æsir went down into the yard where the Fenris Wolf lived.

The great creature came yawning and stretching out into the sunlight when they called him, and all noticed how much larger he had grown since the day on which he had broken the chain Dromi.

‘Come hunting with us in the forests of Midgard,’ said Tyr.

‘Not so,’ answered the Wolf. ‘I do not leave Asgard – yet. Here I know that I am safe.’

‘Well, then, come across the plains of Asgard,’ said Tyr. ‘Though there we are not so likely to find game.’

Fenris readily agreed to this, and they set off through the bright woods and meadows until they came to the Lake of Amsvartnir. In the middle of this was a rocky island, and at Uller’s suggestion they crossed to it.

‘I have shot many a long-horned deer here,’ said the Bowman of Asgard as they landed. ‘So we should have good hunting.’

When they sat down to eat and rest a few hours later, Odin drew out the chain Gleipnir.

‘I have a wonder here,’ he said to the Æsir, as well as to Fenris. ‘It is a chain as light as silk, and yet I cannot break it.’

The other Æsir took it one by one, and even Thor found that it was too strong for him.

‘But Fenris could break it,’ he said. ‘If he could dash out of Dromi as he did, this little thing would cause him no trouble.’

Fenris sniffed at the chain Gleipnir, and curled up his nose suspiciously.

‘It will not add to my glory, to snap so thin a chain,’ he growled. ‘And if there is anything of enchantment and dark magic about it, I swear it shall never be bound about me.’

‘Surely you could easily break such a silken band,’ said Thor. ‘And if not – well, the Æsir will know that you are only an ordinary weak Wolf, and even our wives will no longer be afraid of you. If we have nothing to fear from you, why should we not unbind you?’

‘If you bind me and I find I cannot get free again,’ growled Fenris, ‘it will be too late, if you mean to cheat me … No, I refuse to be bound with the chain Gleipnir … Yet I hate to think that you may doubt my courage. So if one of you will place his hand in my mouth as a pledge of good faith, you may bind me with Gleipnir.’

The Æsir turned pale and looked askance at one another, for nobody liked to accept the Wolf’s challenge.

But brave Tyr stepped forward.

‘Wolf Fenris,’ he cried. ‘I am not afraid! See, I place my hand between your jaws. Now let Thor and the rest fasten the fetters and the chain upon you.’

Fenris stood still while Gleipnir was fastened round him, with fetters linked into place round his paws. Then he stretched himself and lashed out: but as he did the chain seemed to grow hard and tight, and the more he struggled the tighter and the harder it grew.

Then all the Æsir laughed with joy and relief – all except brave Tyr, for he had lost his hand.

They drew the chain through a solid rock when they saw that the Wolf was truly bound and unable to break loose, and they pegged the end of it with a great splinter of stone driven far into the earth.

Fenris thrashed about him, howling terribly and trying to bite, so Thor placed a sword in his mouth with the guards caught in his lower jaw and the point piercing up into the roof, and that served as a gag.

‘There he shall lie bound,’ said Odin solemnly, ‘until the Day of Ragnarok – and then only shall he break loose. Here in Asgard we could not slay him, for the place is holy and no life blood of the Æsir or their kin may be shed amongst us.’

Then the Æsir went back to the high halls of Asgard, and that night they feasted in Valhalla with light hearts.

But Loki, although he feasted as merrily as the rest, and drank great horns of mead to the overthrow of the Giants, to the bravery of one-handed Tyr, and to the might of Thor the Thunderer, could not forgive the Æsir for what they had done, nor for banishing Angurboda to the depths of Helheim and giving him back his true wife Sigyn whom he had deserted for the Giantess.

But his anger was fiercest against Thor, who had actually bound Fenris, and who, as he quaffed the strong mead from his horn, boasted of what he had done and of his hatred for all Giants and all who made friends with them.

Loki said nothing. Indeed he laughed heartily at Thor’s taunts and jests. But he slipped away from the feast while it was still dark night, bent on mischief and revenge.

In the morning when Thor strode home to his great palace of Bilskirnir, the Storm-Serene, his beautiful wife Sif met him in tears, with a cloak muffled tightly round her face.

‘What has chanced?’ cried Thor, his eyes flashing.

Weeping and with eyes downcast in shame, Sif slowly drew back the cloak and let it fall.

Then Thor cried out in grief and rage, for all her lovely golden hair had gone, and her head was as bald as the stubbly cornfield after the harvest has been gathered in.

‘A thief came in the night while I slept,’ she sobbed. ‘When I woke this morning all had gone – all, all.’

Then Thor strode through Asgard, his eyes flashing like lightning, his red beard bristling with rage, roaring with fury until the thunder rolled upon the hills of Midgard and distant Jotunheim.

‘Loki, son of Laufey!’ bellowed Thor. ‘Where is that spawn of the Giants? He alone could have done this thing. Show me Loki the mischief-maker so that I may break every bone in his body!’

Loki had stayed in Asgard, thinking that no one would suspect him, and knowing that the Æsir would not allow any harm to befall him there. But when Thor grabbed hold of him, roaring that he would carry him to Jotunheim and there break him into little pieces, he grew frightened.

‘Let me go,’ he begged. ‘I will make you any recompense you like. I was angry and did not think what I was doing.’

But Thor only shook him until his teeth rattled, and went striding across Asgard shouting:

‘Unless you can put back the hair which you have cut off, so that it grows again upon Sif’s head, I’ll break your bones and crush you under a mountain, so that you can work no more mischief!’

‘I will! I will!’ cried Loki. ‘Put me down, and listen to me.’

Thor set him on his feet doubtfully, but did not let go his hold.

‘Well,’ he growled, ‘how will you replace the hair you have dared to cut from Sif’s head?’

‘The three Dwarfs who made the chain Gleipnir!’ cried Loki eagerly. ‘Those three sons of Ivaldi who live in Svartalfheim can make new hair if anyone can! Let me go to them, and I will also pay a fine for all the trouble I’ve caused. If you break my bones, Sif will never get her hair again; but if you let me go now to Svartalfheim there is every chance that she may. You will lose nothing by letting me try – but may lose everything if you don’t.’

Slow-witted Thor took a little while to see this. But when he did he flung Loki from him, shouting:

‘Go to Svartalfheim then, and do your best with the sons of Ivaldi. But don’t think to escape me if you fail. Wherever you are, I’ll find you!’

Loki picked himself up, muttering curses on Thor under his breath, and set out from Asgard towards the land of the Dark Elves.

Over the Bridge Bifrost he went, and through Midgard to the high, lonely mountains, in the gloomy caverns beneath which dwelt the Dwarfs and their cousins the Dark Elves.

Down into the caves went Loki, by winding passage and steep stair, until he heard in front of him the clink of hammers on anvils, and saw the red glow of the forges.

At last he came out into the cavernous underworld where the Dwarfs were at work, digging the gold, the iron, and the jewels from the rocks and working them into beautiful swords and cups and necklaces, armour, and other treasures.

Loki found the sons of Ivaldi, and when he had told them what he wanted, the master-craftsman, Dvalin, exclaimed:

‘This will bring us great honour and glory among the Æsir! Let us set to work at once, my brothers, and show them how great is our skill.’

So they put gold into the fire, and began to work, while the bellows roared and the sparks flew up the chimney like the molten breath of a volcano.

And first clever Dvalin made the spear Gungnir as a gift for Odin. This is the best of all spears and never fails to hit its mark.

Next they made the ship Skidbladnir as a gift for Frey, lord of the winds. This is the best of all ships, for it can sail over land as well as sea, and through the air also, no matter which way the wind is blowing. It can carry all the Æsir, with their steeds, at one time! and yet fold up small enough to be carried in one hand or in a warrior’s belt.

Last of all Dvalin spun golden thread finer than ever was drawn from a mortal spinning-wheel, and made from it new hair for Sif.

‘If this is placed on her head,’ he told Loki, ‘it will grow there at once just as her own hair did. And I have put into it a charm so that it may never again be stolen by force or cunning.’

Loki was delighted, and certain that he was safe now from Thor’s vengeance and the anger of the Æsir.

‘You are the greatest of all smiths,’ he cried to Dvalin. ‘Not in Midgard nor in Asgard, nor even here and among the Black Dwarfs, is there any other who could fashion such cunning, such wondrous gifts for the Æsir.’

Now it chanced that another Dwarf named Brok heard Loki’s words, and he sprang up in a great rage.

‘That is not true!’ he shrieked. ‘My brother Sindri is a far better smith than Dvalin. I’ll wager my head on it!’

‘I’ll take your wager!’ cried Loki indignantly. ‘My head against yours that Sindri cannot make three gifts for the Æsir rarer and more wonderful than Dvalin’s.’

‘Good,’ answered Brok, grinning evilly. ‘I shall be cutting off your head before night … I must ask Sindri to make me a special weapon for that purpose!’

Then Brok led the way to Sindri’s smithy, and the Dwarf smith grinned and nodded when he heard of the bet.

‘Yes, yes!’ he cried. ‘I’ll do better than Dvalin, son of Ivaldi, ever did. Gungnir, Skidbladnir, and hair for Sif! Bah, wait till you’ve seen my gifts for the Æsir!’

Then Sindri mingled his metals and poured in his charms. When this was done he set a pig-skin bellows on the hearth, and told Brok to blow until he came back.

‘Blow hard,’ he instructed his brother, ‘and do not cease for a moment – no, not even to mop your brow – not even to draw breath: for if you pause for anything whatsoever, that which lies in the fire will be spoilt.’

Then he went into another cave, while Brok blew at the bellows. But Loki, with a sly look in his eyes, stole quietly out of the smithy in the opposite direction.

Presently, as Brok worked at the bellows, a gadfly came and stung him on the hand until the blood came, but Brok never even paused to dash it away.

Sindri came back a few minutes later and drew from the fire a boar with golden bristles and mane of gleaming gold.

‘Good,’ said he. ‘Gullinbusti is complete. Now blow at the bellows again, and do not stop for a moment, or my next work will be spoilt.’

With that he laid more gold in the hearth, and went out of the smithy again. Presently as Brok toiled at the bellows the gadfly came again and stung him on the neck until the blood came. But Brok never even paused to dash it away.

Sindri came back a few minutes later and drew from the fire a glimmering ring of gold.

‘Good,’ said he, ‘Draupnir is complete. Now work at the bellows again, and do not stop for a moment, or my last and greatest work will be spoilt.’

With that he laid a great mass of iron in the hearth, and went out of the smithy again.

Presently as Brok worked at the bellows the gadfly came once more and stung him on the eyelid until the blood came. Then Brok grabbed at the gadfly as swiftly as he could and swept it from him and dashed the blood out of his eye. But the bellows grew flat for a moment as he did so, although a moment later he was working away at them as hard as ever.

Sindri came back and drew from the fire a great iron hammer.

‘Alas,’ said he, ‘Miolnir came near to being spoilt. See, it is a little too short in the handle. Yet even so I am certain that you will win your wager, brother Brok. So take our three gifts, and hasten to Asgard to lay them before the Æsir for their judgement.’

Loki had come back to the smithy in his own form by this time, and he looked scornfully at Brok’s gifts, though already he was beginning to feel anxious about which the Æsir would consider the best.

However, he set out for Asgard with Dvalin and Brok, and when they arrived the Æsir assembled and Loki explained the presence of the two Dwarfs by telling of the wager.

Then Odin, Thor, and Frey sat down in the seats of judgement, and Loki advanced with Dvalin behind him.

First Thor took the hair and set it upon Sif’s head. And immediately it grew there as if it had never been lost, and she tossed back her head and smiled once more like the bright earth when summer returns after the bareness and cold of winter.

Then Loki handed the spear Gungnir to Odin, explaining how it could never miss its aim, nor be stopped in its thrust, whatever came in its way. And finally he gave the ship Skidbladnir to Frey telling him how it would speed over land or sea with a favourable breeze as soon as the sail was raised, yet could be folded like a napkin and thrust into his belt.

The three Æsir admired their gifts, and Odin said:

‘Dwarf Brok, it will indeed be hard for you to surpass these three, for never before did I behold such workmanship.’

Brok, however, stepped forward with a confident bow; and first of all he gave to Odin the ring Draupnir.

‘There, my lord, is the gift of greatest wealth,’ he said. ‘Keep that ring well, and on every ninth night shall fall from it eight rings of equal value.’

Then he gave to Frey the boar Gullinbusti, saying:

‘There, my lord, is the gift of greatest speed. Keep this boar well, for he can run through air or water better than any horse. Moreover, such a glow of light comes from his mane and bristles that you can never be lost in the dark, even though you pass through deepest Nifelheim itself.’

Last of all he gave to Thor the hammer Miolnir, and said:

‘There, my lord, is the gift of greatest strength. Keep this hammer well, for it shall never fail you. You may smite with it as hard as you will and break whatever you hit. And if you throw it at anything, it will hit that at which you fling it, and return to your hand however far it goes. Yet it is so small that you may carry it in your belt. But I must tell you that there is one flaw in its making: the handle is a trifle short.’

After this the three Æsir discussed the gifts among themselves, and then Odin gave judgement:

‘We feel,’ he said, ‘that the hammer Miolnir is the most precious of all these works, since in it is the greatest defence we have against the Giants our deadly enemies. Therefore we give this sentence: the Dwarf Brok has won his wager, and Loki must lose his head.’

‘If you want my head, you must take it!’ cried Loki with desperate bravado, and in an instant he was far away, leaping through the air on his shoes of swiftness.

‘I’ll bring him for you!’ shouted Thor, and in a moment he had leapt into his chariot drawn by the two goats Gaptooth and Cracktooth and was whirling away across Midgard in a huge black thundercloud.

Before long he was back again and flung Loki out of the chariot on to the stone floor of Valhalla.

‘There!’ he cried, as the thunder rolled away in the distance. ‘Now, Dwarf Brok, you may exact the penalty.’

Brok at once produced a sharp axe and advanced gleefully upon his victim.

‘One moment!’ exclaimed Loki, and the Dwarf paused. ‘I readily admit that you have won the wager, and my head is forfeit. But will you not allow me to buy it back from you – which I would far rather do before you cut it off than afterwards, when it would be of little value to me?’

‘No,’ cried Brok. ‘You have nothing to offer which I value. We have far greater treasures of rings and gold and weapons in Svartalfheim than all you Æsir have, with the wealth of Midgard and Jotunheim added. And that is all we Dwarfs care about – except revenge … That gadfly which stung me as I blew the bellows was remarkably like you, crafty Loki. But this time your cunning shall avail you nothing.’

‘Yes, I confess myself beaten,’ sighed Loki. ‘So if you will not spare me my head, you must come and cut it off. Here I stand waiting for you to strike … But of course you will remember that it was only my head that I wagered: that belongs to you, certainly – but my neck is still my own. So be very careful when you cut off my head that you do not touch my neck, for every scrap of it is mine, and I forbid you to touch it … And of course when I wagered my head, I meant the whole of it, so you must take it all in one piece and leave none behind.’

There were a few moments of silence; and then a great gust of laughter swept through Valhalla, while Brok stood swinging his axe and looking extremely foolish.

‘I will not cut off your head,’ he said at length. ‘But just to warn you against boasting in future, I’ll sew your lips together … You talk far too much, as I am sure these noble Æsir will agree, and a little silence will do you no harm.’

Loki agreed thankfully to this, for it was a small matter compared with the loss of his head.

‘If your skill as a tailor is as great as your skill as a smith,’ he said, ‘you’ll sew a seam that I shall be proud to wear across my face.’

So Brok set to work, but found that his sword was too blunt and clumsy to pierce the flesh of one of the Æsir.

‘I wish I had my brother Sindri’s awl here!’ he cried.

Even as he said the words, Sindri’s awl appeared suddenly, piercing Loki’s lips, and Brok made the holes without any difficulty and laced them together with a thong.

Then all the Æsir laughed at Loki standing dumbly there without one of his usual jests to throw at them.

‘Take a horn of mead with us, Loki!’ they cried. ‘Sing to us, Loki – sing a rousing catch of love or battle! Tell us some tale of your triumphs over your enemies!’

Loki endured all this mockery with downcast eyes; and when the Æsir were tired of their sport, and the two Dwarfs had departed from Asgard, he went quietly to his own palace and tore away the thong.

But ever afterwards his lips were scarred and uneven, and his smile was wicked where it had been only cunning before.