The Mead of Poets: Part 1
From the moment I finished the first Percy Jackson book written by Rick Riordan, I fell in love with mythological stories. After Percy Jackson, I took up the more 'adult' books like Iliad & Odyssey by Homerus, Circe by Madeline Miller, Rebel with Wings by Marcel Roijaards. The Greek mythology kept on fascinating me with the endless stories about the Olympians, Titans, and Heroes.
Around the summer of 2017, my interest in mythology took another turn. This was because I was visiting a country with its own mythology. I found myself in the country of mountains, fjords, and midsummer nights. The country of giants, elves, gods, and other mythical creatures: Norway.
My mother brought a book to Norway that gave a vast introduction to Norse mythology. It's called Nordic Gods by Neil Gaiman. Reading the book during my visit to Norway was truly magical and I felt like the 13-year-old boy again who just finished his first Percy Jackson book.
Recently I decided to pick up the book again and find out more about Nordic mythology. It was then when I read a story about one of the oldest drinks in the world, mead or molde. The story is not only about the creation of mead but also about the creation of poetry. Because it is quite a long story we decided to split this Edit in two. The first part now, the second one in two weeks. Without any further or do let me tell you a mythological story about mead and poetry.
The birth of Kvasir
The story began not long after one of the beginnings of times during a war between the Ases and Wanes, it was an endless war. It became clear that neither party would win the war. And so they came together to negotiate peace, in which they succeeded. To seal the deal the gods agreed to spit in a large vessel. After every relevant God had spit in the vessel a big party was held to celebrate the just made peace.
When the guests were preparing to leave Odin, the all-father who carries many names, said; 'It would be a shame to leave our mixed saliva behind.' Frey (God of male sexuality) and Freya (Goddess of love and fertility) stepped forward and said in chore: 'Let's make a man from it.' Freya stuck her fingers in the vessel and as soon as she turned her fingers a strong youthful man stood in the vessel. 'You are Kvasir,' said Odin to the just born man.
Kvasir was the wisest of all the Gods, he united head and heart. One who asked Kvasir a question could always count on a sharp but wise answer. Soon the god said: 'I am going on a journey, I want to see the nine realms and Midgaard. And with that, he left.
Meeting the dwarfs
Kvasir traveled from village to village and met people of all sorts. Around the same time lived dwarfs in a burrow where they used magic and alchemy. The dwarf’s names were Fjalar and Galar. They heard Kvasir would arrive at a nearby town and so they went to meet him.
'We have a question no one has ever asked you before,' Fjalar and Galar told Kvasir. 'But it must be kept out of the presence of others. Would you like to come with us?' Kvasir answered: 'I will go with you.' And so they walked to the burrow of Fjalar and Galar.
Seagulls screamed and the clouds colored dark. The dwarves led Kvasir into their workshop, deep inside the walls of their burrow.
'What are those?' asked Kvasir. 'Those are vessels that carry the names Son and Bodn', answered the dwarves.
'Oh, and what is that?' asked Kvasir. 'How can you be so wise and not know what these things are? It's a kettle and we call it Odrerir (extrapourer).'
'And I see buckets filled with honey you have been collecting. The honey isn't sugary but also not fluid,' Kvasir said.
'Indeed', the dwarves said and looked at each other with a dark glimpse in their eyes. 'If you were that wise as people say you should know what happens next!'
The making of the Mead
Kvasir nodded resignedly. 'It seems to me,' he said, 'that if you are both intelligent and evil, you have decided to kill your visitor by letting his blood flow into the vessels Son and Bodn. Then you would warm his blood in the Odrerir cauldron. After that, you would pour in the honey and let the mixture ferment until it became mead. The fines mead, a drink that will intoxicate all who drink it. But also give to all who taste it the gift of poetry and the gift of learning.'
'We couldn't have summed it up more perfectly,' the dwarves said and with that they killed Kvasir. The dwarves hung the body of Kvasir above the vessels until the last drop of blood had run out of the body. They then began making the mead and as soon as it was finished they both took a sip and laughed. The brothers both found the poetry within them that they had never uttered.
The Giants
Galar and Fjalar only gave the mead only to those they liked, and the only ones they liked were themselves. However, there were also persons to whom the dwarves had obligations. The giant called Gilling and his wife for instance. Galar and Fjalar invited Gilling and his wife to come over.
'Let's row in our boat,' the dwarves said to Gilling. Because of the giant’s weight, the boat lay much deeper in the water than normal. Where the boat previously floated over the rocks without any difficulty, this time it snagged and capsized. The giant fell into the dark sea.
'Swim towards the boat,' shouted the dwarves to Gilling.
'I can't swim!' Gilling said, and with that, he vanished underwater and was never seen again.
Fjalar and Galar swam towards the boat, pulled it up, and rowed towards the shore where Gillings wife was waiting for them.
'Where is Gilling?' she asked
'Your husband?' Galar said. 'Oh, he's dead.'
'Drowned', added Fjalar. 'We can show you the place if you'd like?'
She sniffed and nodded and cried and whimpered and lamented with her husband, who would never come back to her.
'Stand over there and we will show you the spot where he vanished', Fjalar said, and pointed out the place where she had to stand. The big door under the wall of the burrow. Meanwhile, he nodded to his brother who flew up the stairs and ran to the other side of the wall. When Gillings wife walked through the door Galar dropped a huge boulder on her head, shattering her skull.
The dwarves pulled the body of the female giant to the beach. The dark waves tore the body away from them. And so Gilling and his wife have reunited in death again.
The dwarves shrugged and considered themselves extremely clever in their burrow by the sea. They drank mead every evening and they recited beautiful poems to each other. They wrote incredible stories about the death of Gilling and his wife and sang it from the roofs. Eventually, they fell asleep on the place where they had been sitting the night before.
Until one day they didn't...