Siegfried, when he came to Gunther’s castle, thought of staying there but a few days only. But the king and his brothers made every thing so pleasant for their honored guest, that weeks slipped by unnoticed, and still the hero remained in Burgundy.
Spring had fairly come, and the weeping April clouds had given place to the balmy skies of May. The young men and , as was their , made ready for the May-day games; and Siegfried and his were asked to take part in the sport.
On the smooth greensward, which they called Nanna’s carpet, beneath the shade of ash-trees and elms, he who played Old Winter’s part lingered with his few attendants. These were clad in the dull gray which becomes the sober season of the year, and were decked with yellow straw, and dead, brown leaves. Out of the wood came the May-king and his , clad in the gayest raiment, and decked with and flowers. With staves and willow-withes they fell upon Old Winter’s champions, and tried to drive them from the sward. In friendly they fought, and many fell to both parties. But at length the May-king won; and grave Winter, and , was made prisoner, and his followers were driven from the field. Then, in merry sport, sentence was passed on the luckless wight, for he was found guilty of the flowers, and of covering the earth with hoar-frost; and he was to a long from music and the sunlight. The laughing party then set up a wooden of the worsted winter-king, and it with stones and turf; and when they were tired they threw it down, and put out its eyes, and cast it into the river. And then a pole, decked with wild-flowers and fresh green leaves, was planted in the midst of the sward, and all joined in merry dance around it. And they chose the most beautiful of all the maidens to be the Queen of May, and they crowned her with a wreath of violets and yellow buttercups; and for a whole day all yielded to her, and did her bidding.
It was thus that May Day came in Burgundy. And in the evening, when the party were seated in King Gunther’s hall, Siegfried, at the command of the May-queen,—who was none other than Kriemhild the peerless,—amused them by telling the story of
Idun and Her Apples.
It is a story that Bragi told while at the feast in AEgir’s hall. Idun is Bragi’s wife. Very handsome is she; but the beauty of her face is by no means greater than the goodness of her heart. Right is she to every duty, and her words and thoughts are always and wise. A long time ago the good Asa-folk who dwell in heaven-towering Asgard, knowing how trustworthy Idun was, gave into her keeping a treasure which they would not have placed in the hands of any other person. This treasure was a box of apples, and Idun kept the golden key safely fastened to her girdle. You ask me why the gods should prize a box of apples so highly? I will tell you.
Old age, you know, spares none, not even Odin and his Asa-folk. They all grow old and gray; and, if there were no cure for age, they would become feeble and toothless and blind, deaf, , and weak minded. The apples which Idun guarded so carefully were the priceless of youth. Whenever the gods felt old age coming on, they went to her, and she gave them of her fruit; and, when they had tasted, they grew young and strong and handsome again. Once, however, they came near losing the apples,—or losing rather Idun and her golden key, without which no one could ever open the box.
In those early days Odin delighted to come down now and then from his high home above the clouds, and to wander, disguised, among the woods and mountains, and by the seashore, and in wild desert places. For nothing pleases him more than to commune with Nature as she is found in the loneliness of vast , or in the of the elements. Once on a time he took with him his friends Hoenir and Loki; and they many days among the icy cliffs, and along the barren shores, of the great frozen sea. In that country there was no game, and no fish was found in the cold waters; and the three wanderers, as they had brought no food with them, became very hungry. Late in the afternoon of the seventh day, they reached some pasture-lands belonging to the giant Hymer, and saw a of the giant’s cattle upon the short grass which grew in the sheltered nooks among the hills.
“Ah!” cried Loki: “after fasting for a week, we shall now have food in abundance. Let us kill and eat.”
So saying, he a sharp stone at the fattest of Hymer’s cows, and killed her; and the three quickly dressed the choicest pieces of flesh for their supper. Then Loki gathered and dry grass, and a blazing fire; Hoenir filled the pot with water from melted ice; and Odin threw into it the bits of tender meat. But, make the fire as hot as they would, the water would not boil, and the flesh would not cook.
All night long the supperless three sat hungry around the fire; and, every time they peeped into the kettle, the meat was as raw and gustless as before. Morning came, but no breakfast. And all day Loki kept stirring the fire, and Odin and Hoenir waited hopefully but impatiently. When the sun again went down, the flesh was still uncooked, and their supper seemed no nearer ready than it was the night before. As they were about yielding to despair, they heard a noise overhead, and, looking up, they saw a huge gray eagle sitting on the dead branch of an oak.
“Ha, ha!” cried the bird. “You are pretty fellows indeed! To sit hungry by the fire a night and a day, rather than eat raw flesh, becomes you well. Do but give me my share of it as it is, and I warrant you the rest shall boil, and you shall have a fat supper.”
“Agreed,” answered Loki eagerly. “Come down and get your share.”
The eagle waited for no second asking. Down he right over the blazing fire, and snatched not only the eagle’s share, but also what the Lybians call the lion’s share; that is, he grasped in his strong the kettle, with all the meat in it, and, flapping his huge wings, slowly rose into the air, carrying his booty with him. The three gods were astonished. Loki was filled with anger. He seized a long pole, upon the end of which a sharp hook was , and struck at the bird. The hook stuck fast in the eagle’s back, and Loki could not loose his hold of the other end of the pole. The great bird soared high above the tree-tops, and over the hills, and carried the astonished -maker with him.
But it was no eagle. It was no bird that had thus outwitted the hungry gods: it was the giant Old Winter, clothed in his eagle-plumage. Over the lonely woods, and the snow-crowned mountains, and the frozen sea, he flew, dragging the helpless Loki through tree-tops, and over jagged rocks, scratching and his body, and almost tearing his arms from his shoulders. At last he alighted on the craggy top of an , where the storm-winds , and the air was filled with driving snow. As soon as Loki could speak, he begged the giant to carry him back to his comrades,—Odin and Hoenir.
“On one condition only will I carry you back,” answered Old Winter. “Swear to me that you will betray into my hands Idun and her golden key.”
Loki asked no questions, but gladly gave the oath; and the giant flew back with him across the sea, and dropped him, torn and bleeding and , by the side of the fire, where Odin and Hoenir still lingered. And the three made all haste to leave that cheerless place, and returned to Odin’s glad home in Asgard.
Some weeks after this, Loki, the Prince of Mischief-makers, went to Bragi’s house to see Idu............