<h2><SPAN name="HOW_ODIN_LOST_HIS_EYE" id="HOW_ODIN_LOST_HIS_EYE">HOW ODIN LOST HIS EYE</SPAN></h2>
<p class="drop-cap3"><span class="smcap1">In</span> the beginning of things, before there
was any world or sun, moon, and stars,
there were the giants; for these were the
oldest creatures that ever breathed. They
lived in Jotunheim, the land of frost and
darkness, and their hearts were evil. Next
came the gods, the good Æsir, who made earth
and sky and sea, and who dwelt in Asgard,
above the heavens. Then were created the
queer little dwarfs, who lived underground
in the caverns of the mountains, working at
their mines of metal and precious stones.
Last of all, the gods made men to dwell in
Midgard, the good world that we know, between
which and the glorious home of the
Æsir stretched Bifröst, the bridge of rainbows.</p>
<p>In those days, folk say, there was a mighty
ash-tree named Yggdrasil, so vast that its
branches shaded the whole earth and stretched
up into heaven where the Æsir dwelt, while
its roots sank far down below the lowest
depth. In the branches of the big ash-tree<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</SPAN></span>
lived a queer family of creatures. First, there
was a great eagle, who was wiser than any
bird that ever lived—except the two
ravens, Thought and Memory, who sat upon
Father Odin's shoulders and told him the
secrets which they learned in their flight
over the wide world. Near the great eagle
perched a hawk, and four antlered deer
browsed among the buds of Yggdrasil. At
the foot of the tree coiled a huge serpent, who
was always gnawing hungrily at its roots,
with a whole colony of little snakes to keep
him company,—so many that they could
never be counted. The eagle at the top of
the tree and the serpent at its foot were
enemies, always saying hard things of each
other. Between the two skipped up and
down a little squirrel, a tale-bearer and a
gossip, who repeated each unkind remark
and, like the malicious neighbor that he was,
kept their quarrel ever fresh and green.</p>
<p>In one place at the roots of Yggdrasil was
a fair fountain called the Urdar-well, where
the three Norn-maidens, who knew the past,
present, and future, dwelt with their pets, the
two white swans. This was magic water in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</SPAN></span>
the fountain, which the Norns sprinkled every
day upon the giant tree to keep it green,—water
so sacred that everything which entered
it became white as the film of an eggshell.
Close beside this sacred well the Æsir had
their council hall, to which they galloped
every morning over the rainbow bridge.</p>
<p>But Father Odin, the king of all the Æsir,
knew of another fountain more wonderful
still; the two ravens whom he sent forth
to bring him news had told him. This also
was below the roots of Yggdrasil, in the
spot where the sky and ocean met. Here
for centuries and centuries the giant Mimer
had sat keeping guard over his hidden well,
in the bottom of which lay such a treasure
of wisdom as was to be found nowhere else
in the world. Every morning Mimer dipped
his glittering horn Giöll into the fountain
and drew out a draught of the wondrous water,
which he drank to make him wise. Every
day he grew wiser and wiser; and as this had
been going on ever since the beginning of
things, you can scarcely imagine how wise
Mimer was.</p>
<p>Now it did not seem right to Father Odin<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</SPAN></span>
that a giant should have all this wisdom to
himself; for the giants were the enemies of the
Æsir, and the wisdom which they had been
hoarding for ages before the gods were made
was generally used for evil purposes. Moreover,
Odin longed and longed to become the
wisest being in the world. So he resolved
to win a draught from Mimer's well, if in any
way that could be done.</p>
<p>One night, when the sun had set behind
the mountains of Midgard, Odin put on his
broad-brimmed hat and his striped cloak, and
taking his famous staff in his hand, trudged
down the long bridge to where it ended by
Mimer's secret grotto.</p>
<p>"Good-day, Mimer," said Odin, entering;
"I have come for a drink from your well."</p>
<p>The giant was sitting with his knees drawn
up to his chin, his long white beard falling
over his folded arms, and his head nodding;
for Mimer was very old, and he often
fell asleep while watching over his precious
spring. He woke with a frown at Odin's
words. "You want a drink from my well,
do you?" he growled. "Hey! I let no one
drink from my well."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</SPAN></span>
"Nevertheless, you must let me have a
draught from your glittering horn," insisted
Odin, "and I will pay you for it."</p>
<p>"Oho, you will pay me for it, will you?"
echoed Mimer, eyeing his visitor keenly.
For now that he was wide awake, his wisdom
taught him that this was no ordinary stranger.
"What will you pay for a drink from my
well, and why do you wish it so much?"</p>
<p>"I can see with my eyes all that goes on
in heaven and upon earth," said Odin, "but
I cannot see into the depths of ocean. I
lack the hidden wisdom of the deep,—the
wit that lies at the bottom of your fountain.
My ravens tell me many secrets; but I would
know all. And as for payment, ask what you
will, and I will pledge anything in return
for the draught of wisdom."</p>
<p>Then Mimer's keen glance grew keener.
"You are Odin, of the race of gods," he cried.
"We giants are centuries older than you,
and our wisdom which we have treasured
during these ages, when we were the only
creatures in all space, is a precious thing. If
I grant you a draught from my well, you will
become as one of us, a wise and dangerous<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</SPAN></span>
enemy. It is a goodly price, Odin, which I
shall demand for a boon so great."</p>
<p>Now Odin was growing impatient for
the sparkling water. "Ask your price," he
frowned. "I have promised that I will pay."</p>
<p>"What say you, then, to leaving one of
those far-seeing eyes of yours at the bottom
of my well?" asked Mimer, hoping that he
would refuse the bargain. "This is the only
payment I will take."</p>
<p>Odin hesitated. It was indeed a heavy
price, and one that he could ill afford, for
he was proud of his noble beauty. But he
glanced at the magic fountain bubbling mysteriously
in the shadow, and he knew that he
must have the draught.</p>
<p>"Give me the glittering horn," he answered.
"I pledge you my eye for a draught
to the brim."</p>
<p>Very unwillingly Mimer filled the horn
from the fountain of wisdom and handed it
to Odin. "Drink, then," he said; "drink and
grow wise. This hour is the beginning of
trouble between your race and mine." And
wise Mimer foretold the truth.</p>
<p>Odin thought merely of the wisdom which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</SPAN></span>
was to be his. He seized the horn eagerly,
and emptied it without delay. From that
moment he became wiser than any one else
in the world except Mimer himself.</p>
<p>Now he had the price to pay, which was
not so pleasant. When he went away from
the grotto, he left at the bottom of the dark
pool one of his fiery eyes, which twinkled
and winked up through the magic depths
like the reflection of a star. This is how
Odin lost his eye, and why from that day he
was careful to pull his gray hat low over his
face when he wanted to pass unnoticed. For
by this oddity folk could easily recognize the
wise lord of Asgard.</p>
<p>In the bright morning, when the sun rose
over the mountains of Midgard, old Mimer
drank from his bubbly well a draught of the
wise water that flowed over Odin's pledge.
Doing so, from his underground grotto he
saw all that befell in heaven and on earth.
So that he also was wiser by the bargain.
Mimer seemed to have secured rather the
best of it; for he lost nothing that he could
not spare, while Odin lost what no man can
well part with,—one of the good windows<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</SPAN></span>
wherethrough his heart looks out upon the
world. But there was a sequel to these doings
which made the balance swing down in
Odin's favor.</p>
<p>Not long after this, the Æsir quarreled
with the Vanir, wild enemies of theirs, and
there was a terrible battle. But in the end
the two sides made peace; and to prove that
they meant never to quarrel again, they exchanged
hostages. The Vanir gave to the
Æsir old Niörd the rich, the lord of the sea
and the ocean wind, with his two children,
Frey and Freia. This was indeed a gracious
gift; for Freia was the most beautiful maid
in the world, and her twin brother was almost
as fair. To the Vanir in return Father Odin
gave his own brother Hœnir. And with
Hœnir he sent Mimer the wise, whom he
took from his lonely well.</p>
<p>Now the Vanir made Hœnir their chief,
thinking that he must be very wise because
he was the brother of great Odin, who had
lately become famous for his wisdom. They
did not know the secret of Mimer's well,
how the hoary old giant was far more wise
than any one who had not quaffed of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</SPAN></span>
magic water. It is true that in the assemblies
of the Vanir Hœnir gave excellent counsel.
But this was because Mimer whispered in
Hœnir's ear all the wisdom that he uttered.
Witless Hœnir was quite helpless without
his aid, and did not know what to do or say.
Whenever Mimer was absent he would look
nervous and frightened, and if folk questioned
him he always <span class="locked">answered:—</span></p>
<p>"Yes, ah yes! Now go and consult some
one else."</p>
<p>Of course the Vanir soon grew very angry
at such silly answers from their chief, and
presently they began to suspect the truth.
"Odin has deceived us," they said. "He has
sent us his foolish brother with a witch to tell
him what to say. Ha! We will show him
that we understand the trick." So they cut
off poor old Mimer's head and sent it to
Odin as a present.</p>
<p>The tales do not say what Odin thought
of the gift. Perhaps he was glad that now
there was no one in the whole world who
could be called so wise as himself. Perhaps
he was sorry for the danger into which he
had thrust a poor old giant who had never<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</SPAN></span>
done him any wrong, except to be a giant
of the race which the Æsir hated. Perhaps
he was a little ashamed of the trick which he
had played the Vanir. Odin's new wisdom
showed him how to prepare Mimer's head
with herbs and charms, so that it stood up
by itself quite naturally and seemed not dead.
Thenceforth Odin kept it near him, and
learned from it many useful secrets which
it had not forgotten.</p>
<p>So in the end Odin fared better than
the unhappy Mimer, whose worst fault was
that he knew more than most folk. That
is a dangerous fault, as others have found;
though it is not one for which many of us
need fear being punished.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</SPAN></span></p>
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