Obtain Poetry

Then spoke Ægir: ‘This seems to me a very good way to conceal
it in secret language.’ And Ægir went on: ‘How did this craft that
you call poetry originate?’

Bragi replied: ‘The origin of it was that the gods had a dispute
with the people called Vanir, and they appointed a peace
conference and made a truce by this procedure, that both sides
went up to a vat and spat their spittle into it. But when they
dispersed, the gods kept this symbol of truce and decided not to let
it be wasted, and out of it made a man. His name was Kvasir, he
was so wise that no one could ask him any questions to which he
did not know the answer. He travelled widely through the world
teaching people knowledge, and when he arrived as a guest to
some dwarfs, Fialar and Galar, they called him to a private
discussion with them and killed him. They poured his blood into
two vats and a pot, and the latter was called Odrerir, but the vats
were called Son and Bodn. They mixed honey with the blood and
it turned into the mead whoever drinks from which becomes a
poet or scholar. The dwarfs told the Æsir that Kvasir had
suffocated in intelligence because there was no one there educated
enough to be able to ask him questions.

‘Then these dwarfs invited to stay with them a giant called
Gilling and his wife. Then the dwarfs invited Gilling to go out to
sea in a boat with them. But as they went along the coast the
dwarfs rowed on to a shoal and the boat capsized. Gilling could
not swim and was drowned, but the dwarfs righted their boat and
rowed to land. They told his wife what had happened and she was
greatly distressed and wept loudly. Then Fialar asked her if it
would be some consolation for her if she looked out to the sea
where he had drowned, and she agreed. Then he told his brother
Galar that he was to go up above the doorway she was going out
of and drop a millstone on her head, and declared he was weary of
her howling; and Galar did so. When Gilling’s son Suttung found
out about this, he went there and seized the dwarfs and took them
out to sea and put them on a skerry below high-water level. They
begged Suttung for quarter and offered him as atonement in
compensation for his father the precious mead, and they were
reconciled on these terms. Suttung took the mead home with him
and put it for safe keeping in a place called Hnitbiorg, setting his
daughter Gunnlod in charge of it. That is why we call poetry
Kvasir’s blood or dwarfs’ drink or the contents or some term for
liquid of Odrerir or Bodn or Son, or dwarfs’ transportation,
because this mead brought them deliverance from the skerry, or
Suttung’s mead or the liquid of Hnitbiorg.’

Then spoke Ægir: ‘I think it is an obscure way to talk to call
poetry by these names, but how did the Æsir get hold of Suttung’s
mead?’

Bragi replied: ‘There is this story about it, that Odin set out
from home and came to where nine slaves were mowing hay. He
asked if they would like him to hone their scythes. They said yes.
Then he took a whetstone from his belt and honed, and they
thought the scythes were cutting very much better and asked if
they could buy the whetstone. The price he set on it was that he
who wished to buy must give what was reasonable for it, and they
all said they wanted to and bade him sell it to them, but he threw
the whetstone up in the air, and when all tried to catch it they dealt
with each other in such a way that they all cut each other’s throats
with the scythes. Odin sought lodging for the night with a giant
called Baugi, Suttung’s brother. Baugi reckoned his economic
affairs were going badly, and said his nine slaves had killed each
other, and declared he did not know where he was going to get
workmen from. Odin told him his name was Bolverk; he offered
to take over the work of nine men for Baugi, and stipulated as his
payment one drink of Suttung’s mead. Baugi said he had no say in
the disposal of the mead, said that Suttung wanted to have it all to
himself, but he said he would go with Bolverk and try whether
they could get the mead. Bolverk did the work of nine men for
Baugi during the summer, and when winter came he asked Baugi
for his hire. Then they both set off. Baugi told his brother Suttung of
his agreement with Bolverk, but Suttung flatly refused a single drop
of the mead. Then Bolverk told Baugi that they would have to try
some stratagems to see if they could get hold of the mead, and Baugi
said that was a good idea. Then Bolverk got out an auger called
Rati and instructed Baugi to bore a hole in the mountain, if the
auger would cut. He did so. Then Baugi said that the mountain
was bored through, but Bolverk blew into the auger-hole and the
bits flew back up at him. Then he realized that Baugi was trying to
cheat him, and told him to bore through the mountain. Baugi
bored again. And when Bolverk blew a second time, the bits flew
inwards. Then Bolverk turned himself into the form of a snake
and crawled into the auger-hole, and Baugi stabbed after him with
the auger and missed him. Bolverk went to where Gunnlod was
and lay with her for three nights and then she let him drink three
draughts of the mead. In the first draught he drank everything out
of Odrerir, and in the second out of Bodn, in the third out of Son,
and then he had all the mead. Then he turned himself into the
form of an eagle and flew as hard as he could. And when Suttung
saw the eagle’s flight he got his own eagle shape and flew after
him. And when the Æsir saw Odin flying they put their containers
out in the courtyard, and when Odin came in over Asgard he spat
out the mead into the containers, but it was such a close thing for
him that Suttung might have caught him that he sent some of the
mead out backwards, and this was disregarded. Anyone took it
that wanted it, and it is what we call the rhymester’s share. But
Odin gave Suttung’s mead to the Æsir and to those people who
are skilled at composing poetry. Thus we call poetry Odin’s booty
and find, and his drink and his gift and the Æsir’s drink.’

Then spoke Ægir: ‘In how many ways do you vary the vocabulary
of poetry, and how many categories are there in poetry?’


- Prose Edda, Gylfaginning