Episode 129 – An Otter’s Ransom – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 129 Show Notes

Source: Norse Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re getting a double dose of Loki goodness. You’ll see what an otter costs, where to get gold on short notice, and what a curse can really do. Then, in Gods and Monsters, our favorite trickster is going to get himself (and everyone else) into a very interesting bargain. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 129, “An Otter’s Ransom”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
This week’s story comes from The Norse Myths, collected by Kevin Crossley Holland and draws heavily from The Prose Edda of our old friend Snorri Sturluson, though it also pulls details from different accounts in the Codex Regius and the Volsunga Saga. It takes place just as winter is losing its grip on the world, which makes it (optimistically) appropriate for this point in time. Enjoy.
The solstice had passed some time ago and winter was slowly fading towards spring. Each day, the two stallions Arvak and Alsvid hauled the sun’s chariot into the sky with a little more heat and vigor; each day, the snows pulled back farther from the hills and valleys of Midgard. Birds had begun to sing again across the world, stirring a wanderlust in the hearts of Odin, Loki, and Honir (who are noted as the three gods who created humanity in Midgard, though little is known of Honir beyond this). On one particular day, the three gods decided to cross the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge between the realms of Asgard and Midgard. Loki and Odin had to hustle to keep up with long-legged and eager Honir as they headed out to explore.
Winter’s grip had loosened but the dark, bitter cold was far from toothless. A sudden snowstorm sprang up around the travelers, blinding them. With no other real option, they lowered their heads, pulled their cloaks tighter about their shoulders, and bulled forward into the driving snow. As abruptly as it had begun, the storm passed and the snow bloomed palely through a hazy expanse of clouds. None of that was particularly odd for the place or the season, so the three gods ignored it and set out into the emerald expanse of lower Midgard (which was not touched by the late-breaking snow).
Following a nameless river along the banks, they walked until they came upon a towering waterfall crashing to the rocks beside them. In classic videogame fashion, they strode right through the thundering falls to look up at the jeweled drops of water from the other side. There was no treasure chest behind the falls but there was something even better – a sleeping otter. Sharp-eyed Odin spotted it first (despite having only one eye, having sacrificed the other for wisdom and knowledge) and pointed it out to the others. The adorable little critter was drowsing there on the rocks, idly munching on an enormous salmon it had just caught (though it had only taken a few bites so far).
This is where things go from cute to upsetting very quickly. Loki pursed his lips as he considered the situation. Coming to a decision, he slowly reached one hand into the water at his feet and felt around until he found a nice, smooth stone that fit neatly into his palm. Bouncing it in his hand once, he snapped it at the unsuspecting otter with deadly accuracy. It struck the poor beastie in the skull and mercifully killed it instantly. Smiling triumphantly, Loki picked up the limp otter under one arm and the floppy fish under the other and strutted over to his godly friends. “How do you like that – two birds with one stone as it were.” All three gods were pretty contented with how the day was progressing. Loki was happy that he pulled off a sweet shot in front of his buddies while Odin and Honir were happy at a plentiful meal.
Making their way up the steep bank beyond the waterfall, they continued following the narrow river upstream to see where it went. The sun was well past the horizon and dark had mostly fallen when they finally came upon a small farm a little ways ahead of them. It was the only shelter they’d seen all day, so they quickened their steps and gave thanks (to the other gods, I guess?) for their good fortune. Smoke was curling up from the chimney, so they knew the farmer was home as they stepped up and knocked. A man named Hreidmar answered as Odin stepped forward to speak for the group. “Any chance you have space for a few travelers for the night? We don’t particularly relish the thought of sleeping under the icy stars tonight and waking up in a bed of dew.”
The famer eyed him warily. “How many other travelers, exactly? This is a small farm, after all.” “Just myself and my two companions,” he said, gesturing towards the vague shapes in the darkness behind him. “And we’re not coming empty-handed here – we brought food. We had good luck today, so there’s plenty to go around.” “Did you bring enough for everyone? My sons Fafnir and Regin? My daughters Lyngheid and Lofnheid?” Odin waved a handily expansively. “Plenty for everyone,” he assured Hreidmar. Sighing without enthusiasm, the farmer opened the door and let the travelers in.
As they stepped into the firelight of the house, Loki proudly displayed his kill, holding up the otter and the salmon. “Here’s our supper. Bagged ‘em both myself with one stone. Hell of a shot, yeah?” Hreidmar looked at the limp otter lying in Loki’s arms and he stiffened, his expression going from indifferent to decidedly icy. Without a word, he turned and stalked out of the room. Loki watched him go, nonplussed at the lack of appreciation for his stone-throwing skill. “What the fuck’s his problem?” Odin shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? A cool welcome’s better than a night in the cold.” Honir eyed them both warily. “I’m not so sure that’s true, Odin.” The Allfather rolled his eye dramatically. “Of course you’re not, Honir. You never fucking are. Ease up and be less of a buzzkill for once. Everything’s fine. Trust me.”
Cue the Arrested Development narrator: ‘everything was not fine.’ Hreidmar the farmer stalked through the corridors of his home punching the turf walls as he went until he found Fafnir and Regin. “You’re not gonna believe this utter bullshit, boys. Your brother, Otter, is dead.” The two brothers leapt to their feet as one. “Dead? Are you sure?” “I’m sure. And not just dead – murdered. And his filthy stinking killers are here right now as our guests for the night. How do you like them apples?” The two sons were understandably outraged at the senseless murder of their beloved brother and swore vengeance.
“Glad to hear you’re on board with this, boys. There’s three of them and three of us, so we’ll need to be smart about it. Best to surprise them if we can. When I give the signal, each of us jumps one of them. One of those assholes has a spear that looks to be of very fine craftsmanship, and another has some very unusual shoes. The third looks pretty average, so I’m not too worried about him. I’ll use my magic to sing spells to try and weaken them, maybe separate them from their possessions to leave the one unarmed and the other barefoot. Maybe I can even get off a charm to bind them.”
They quickly sketched out a plan and headed back into the main room with their guests. Attacking them now would be a violation of guestright but they were angry enough not to care. At Hreidmar’s signal, all three jumped their selected target. As the two sons launched a surprise attack, the farmer used his magecraft to pull Gungnir away from Odin’s hands and the sky shoes off of Loki’s feet. Caught completely off-guard, the three gods were soon bound hand and foot on the ground, surrounded by the farmer and his two sons. “Now it’s time for you all to pay. You murdered my son, my dear beloved son, so now I’m gonna kill all of you. Make your peace with the gods.”
Odin squinted up quizzically at their hosts turned captors. “Brother? I don’t remember killing any kin of yours. What are you talking about?” Fafnir spit. “You don’t remember killing our brother Otter? You proudly displayed his bloody body just a few minutes ago, didn’t you? Claimed you killed him yourself, didn’t you?” Regin spit on the gods as well. “Otter was our dear brother, and the best fisherman I ever saw. He will be missed, but you all won’t.” “That was your brother?” Fafnir rolled his eyes. “Yes, he was our brother. He had the shape of an otter by day and lived in and around the river.” Regin cracked his knuckles. “And he always brought what he caught to share with the rest of us. He had a kind heart. We loved our brother.”
Odin put on his best sheepish grin. “I begin to understand. Our apologies – we had no idea your brother was a shapeshifter. If we’d had any idea at all that he was anything other than a simple, ordinary otter, Loki would never have thrown that stone.” “Do you think that matters? Dead is dead.” “We didn’t know! Would we really have been so foolish to have come straight to his father’s farm, and bearing his corpse no less, if we’d had any idea whatsoever? Please, at least give us a chance to pay a weregeld, a ransom, for your dear brother’s death!”
Hreidmar held up a hand for silence from his two sons but did not say anything to the captured gods. Odin sensed an opportunity. “I speak for all three of us. We will pay whatever you ask. How can we make this right?” The farmer considered for a long moment before nodding slowly. “We can accept a ransom, I think, but only if you can be trusted to keep your word. You must swear a binding oath, with your heads forfeit if you break your promise.” Loki, Odin, and Honir all immediately swore that they would pay whatever Hreidmar demanded. “Good enough. Fafnir! Regin! Where are Lyngheid and Lofnheid? Have them flay Otter’s body and bring me his skin.”
The two brothers hurried off to obey their father’s request and soon returned with Otter’s flayed skin. Hreidmar laid it out beside the fire, then turned to the bound gods. “You must fill this skin with red gold. Once it is filled, you must cover the whole thing with more red gold until every inch of it is buried. That is the price for my son’s death.” Odin nodded, squirming into a kneeling position next to Loki. “So be it.” Then he prostrated himself, bringing his face near to Loki’s ear and whispered something the farmer didn’t notice. Loki considered then sat up himself. “Let me go obtain the required gold. You can keep my two companions as hostages until I return as a sign of good faith.” This sounded reasonable to Hreidmar, so he untied Loki. The trickster god stood up slowly, rubbing the feeling back into his wrists. Then, with a scornful laugh that left the farmer and his sons uneasy about the bargain they had just struck (and even made Honir more than a little worried), Loki raced out the door and was gone.
He didn’t have his sky shoes, having left them behind with the farmer magician along with his two traveling companions, but Loki was in no particular hurry. Hreidmar was unlikely to kill his hostages as long as Loki’s return with the promised gold was still probable. The family had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Besides, the tricksy god was pretty tickled by the thought of the haughty Odin and the cautious Honir bound hand and foot for a while. The thought brought another jeering chuckle to his lips. He dawdled and strolled the whole long way across Midgard until he finally came to the island of Hlesey.
This island was home to Aegir and Ran, husband and wife personifications of the sea. Or rather, the sea bed beneath the island held the undersea palace of the two jotuns. Loki hurried in to see the two gods, old allies of the Allfarther. “The gods are in danger, bound and captured. Odin and Honir need help and only your magical net can save them. Please, let me borrow it!” Ran opened her pale eyes very wide at this surprising news and considered Loki, but did not respond. “Please, it’s urgent! I can use your sea net not to drown mortals but to save gods!” The two jotuns were suspicious of Loki so it took some doing, but he finally talked Ran into lending him her net. Thanking her, the trickster god left her palace with quite a bit of haste since the sea god was known to be temperamental, and he didn’t want her changing her mind on him.
Leaving the sea behind, Loki hurried next to the world of the dark elves. It was quite the trek, climbing down long, dripping chains between a maze of gloomy caverns that drove deeper and deeper into the darkness. At last, he came to a massive cavern, its distant roof lost in shadows supported by stone columns thicker around than even the oldest trees. Deep shadows filtered throughout the chamber, filling the corners in still, silent blackness but just the faintest amount of light filtered in from a vertical shaft in the center of the roof. It was enough to show Loki what he had come to find: a large, silent pool filled with water that sprang from nowhere and flowed to nowhere. Its glassy surface was as still as marble and cold as death.
Loki spread out Ran’s finely meshed magical net and cast it into the very heart of the pool. He dragged it quickly through the depths until he felt resistance, then he yanked it up and out. Caught in the fine ropes of the net, thrashing and struggling desperately, was a great pike (a type of fish). Taking care to keep his hands away from the razor-sharp teeth (and ignoring the vicious look in its ugly yellow eyes), Loki trapped it in the folds of the net and held it before him. The pike thrashed harder and Loki shook it until its teeth rattled. “Enough of that now. Change shape.” There was no response but the echo of the cavern. ‘Change shape’.
Then the pike vanished as if it had never been, replaced with a stout dwarf still caught in Ran’s net. “That’s better, Andvari. Let’s get you out of that net, yeah?” Loki helped the dwarf free but keeping a very tight and careful hold on the back of the dwarf’s neck the whole time. No sense in giving the little bastard a chance to escape. It’d be much harder to catch him a second time. Andvari struggled a little, but it was clear that Loki’s firm grip would not give way. “What do you want then, lad?” he whined, and the cavern echoed back ‘you want’. “Oh not much, Andvari. Just your gold. All of it. Every last bit of it, or I’ll wring your pathetic neck.” ‘All your gold’ whispered the cavern menacingly.
Andvari shuddered in horror at this proclamation. The Norse dwarves were very greedy and hated giving up their gold, which is where Tolkein got the idea when he created Thorin Oakenshield and the other dwarves from Under the Mountain. Mewling under his breath, Andvari realized he had no choice and led Loki out of the massive, echoing cavern and through a confusing series of twisting caverns and hidden passages until they came to the dwarf’s smithy. It was hot and smoky but well-equipped and well-stocked with heaps of gold that gleamed in the light of the forge’s fires. The dwarf gestured towards his hoard with a shrug.
“Very good, Andvari. Now be a lamb and gather it all up for me,” demanded Loki, kicking a stray gold nugget towards the dwarf. Cursing and moaning, the dwarf did as the god demanded. There was no sense in trying to escape now – Loki would just take the gold without him if he ran and might do some bonus mischief to his forge just to be contrary. He made a pile of nuggets and bars and splinters of red gold, of finished objects and things half-made. When the stack was complete, Loki eyed it with an admiring whistle. “That everything, friendo?”
Andvari didn’t answer. Sullen silence was the only resistance he could muster and he clung to it as he gathered all of the gold into two heaping sacks. Grunting, he dragged both massive, bulging sacks to rest in front of Loki. “Very nice, but I think you might have missed something, Andvari. What about that ring on your right hand, the one currently curled into a fist to try and hide it from my keen eyes?” Andvari shook his head, eyes pleading. “Hand it over. I said all the gold and I meant it.” “Please, Loki, just let me keep this one small ring! It’s so small compared to everything I’ve gathered up for you.” “In the sack, Andvaril. Before I get nasty.” “Please let me keep just this. At least I can make more gold if I still have the ring. Don’t take everything I have. Please!”
Loki snarled at the recalcitrant dwarf. “I don’t need more later, I need it all now. Give it over before I flay your skin from your miserable bones!” Knocking the sacks aside, Loki seized the dwarf’s fist and pried it viciously open until he could rip the ring off the dwarf’s finger and put it on his own pinky. “It didn’t have to be like this, Andvari but what is not freely given must be taken by force.” That’s a pretty shitty saying, but Loki’s not exactly a good guy. Andvari let out a sound that was half chuckle and half sob. “Literally none of this was freely given, you bastard! You’ve robbed me of all of it!” Loki just giggled and, shouldering the two sacks with ease, headed for the door.
The forge fire glimmered off the ring on his finger. “Take that ring! My curse on that ring and that gold! It will destroy whomever owns it!” Loki threw back his head and laughed cruelly. “Even better. Thanks, friendo.” “I’m serious, Loki. No one will win any joy with my stolen wealth.” Loki just giggled again. “If I repeat your words to the poor sods about to get this gold, then your curse will come to pass, Andvari. Good luck down here in the dark.” And with that, Loki disappeared from the smithy, oaths and spells ringing in his ears as he made his way out of the world of the dark elves and back to Midgard.
Odin looked up with a quirked eyebrow when Loki reappeared at the farm. “You certainly took your sweet time, brother.” As we’ve mentioned in past episodes, Loki is Odin’s blood brother in the myths rather than Thor’s adopted brother like in the MCU. Honir said nothing, eyeing the trickster god with healthy concern. He suspected a trick and was worried his foot would be too close to the trap when it sprang shut. Loki shrugged carelessly. “So what? It took some doing to win all this gold, so just be grateful I managed at all.” He dumped out the sack of red gold beside the flayed skin of Otter, making sure that the new gold ring on his finger glittered in the firelight as he did. “And what do you think of this little trinket, brother? Pretty, no?”
Odin eyed the ring, which was intricately wrought and extremely well-made. He marveled at its subtle beauty. “It is indeed, Loki. I think that ring would look better on my fingers than yours. Give it to me.” At that moment, in walked Hreidmar followed by his two sons and his two daughters. Seeing Loki returned with sacks of glittering gold, he cut the other two gods free from their bonds. Odin and Honir stood slowly, stretching out aching, cramped muscles. “I see you brought the gold. Let’s get on with it then.” Loki shook his head. “You should stuff the skin yourself. You’ll always be suspecting a trick otherwise.”
Hreidmar saw the sense in the tricksters words and so set to stuffing piece after piece of gold inside Otter’s skin, taking care to pack it in as tightly as he possibly could so that the skin would hold as much as possible. When he was done, the flayed skin was taut to almost bursting, stuffed to absolute capacity with red gold from nose to tail. Loki took up the second sack of gold. “And now we’ll make a proper burial cairn from the rest of the gold.” While Honir held the skin upright, snout down as was proper, Odin and Loki piled up gold around it until it was encased in a golden barrow.
Odin rolled his shoulders and brushed his hands when the task was finally done. “As promised, your son’s body is completely covered with gold. See for yourself.” Hreidmar walked around his son’s tomb slowly, examining every square inch until he stopped at one spot near the base. “You missed a spot, boys. There’s a whisker poking out here that needs to be covered up with gold or else I’ll hold that you have broken your oath. He must be completely covered, every last inch, or else your heads are forfeit as agreed.”
Loki looked meaningfully at Odin and, with a sigh, Odin took the ring he had just taken from Loki off his finger and added it to the cairn to cover the stray whisker. “Alright, there. Now we have paid Otter’s ransom in full. We’re square.” Hredimar nodded. “That you have. So be it. Your blood debt is paid.” Still a little unsteady from his long confinement, Odin stumbled over to his spear, which served double duty as his walking stick. Loki hastened to put on his sky shoes (which, as you might have guessed, allow him to walk across the sky like anyone else might across solid earth).
Once more possessed of their magical artifacts, the two gods glared at their recent captors (who had broken guest right and so had this next bit coming to them). “Listen up, you jackasses. That ring, and all of the other gold, was made by the dwarf Andvari. I only wrested it from his grubby little fingers by force and with his curse on it all.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Here are the words he spoke as I left with all his gold.” Loki’s voice echoed with terrible promise as he recited the dwarf’s words. “‘Take that ring. My curse on that ring and that gold! It will destroy whomever owns it!’” Odin looked at Loki with a glitter in his eye and a cruel smile on his lips. Loki smiled back crookedly, quite pleased at how well this trick had come together. Honir took a step and was beside them, and then all three vanished from the farmhouse, leaving Hreidmar and his children behind with the cursed gold.
That’s where the tale ends, but other stories pick up the narrative. In most accounts, the tale we just heard is told by Hreidmar’s son Regin. Fafnir goes on to kill his father to steal all of the gold for himself, refusing to share with his brother. Instead, he turns himself into a dragon and carries it away as his hoard. In retribution, Regin becomes the smith at the court of King Hjalprek in Jutland. He adopts the future legendary hero Sigurd, son of Volsung and Hjordis, inciting his foster son to kill the dragon Fafnir. This is a long saga in and of itself but, through wisdom gained on his quest, Sigurd learns the speech of the birds and thus discovers that Regin plans to kill Sigurd and take all the gold for himself. With heavy heart, Sigurd is forced to kill his foster father to protect himself, thus bringing doom on all three who claimed the cursed gold. As you might guess, the curse does not end with Regin’s death, but that’s a tale for another day. For now, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s mythical creature is the eight-legged horse Sleipnir.
The magical steed of Odin appears in both the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda of good ol’ Snorri Sturluson. He’s the king of horses and the inspiration for Shadowfax from Lord of the Rings (there’s more than a dash of Norse mythology in Middle Earth, to be sure). This is one of those stories that I’m a little surprised I haven’t covered before now because it’s such a wild one featuring my beloved trickster Loki. I’ll be using the version of the story from Holland’s Norse Myths for this as well.
This tale is set long after the Golden Age that ended with the war between the Aesir and the Vanir but still long before recorded history in the mists of the earliest events of the cycle of time. The wall that had stood strong around Asgard had been razed to the ground during that fabled, terrible war by the Vanir and their powerful battle magics. Only a ring of rubble was left behind, fit for nothing but nesting grounds for the eagles and ravens. The Aesir were understandably nervous about having their home so exposed to all manner of monsters and villains and so they were anxious to get the wall rebuilt as soon as possible. It would be a long, difficult job, so the gods were all very anxious for someone else to to the actual rebuilding. Since nobody was willing to step up and take responsibility, it just didn’t get done for a long, long time.
This is how things stood when our story starts with a solitary figure on horseback cantering across the rainbow-hued Bifrost. The mysterious figure was stopped by Heimdall, guardian of the rainbow bridge, and asked his reasons for visiting Asgard. “I have a plan for the gods, something I think they’ll be interested to hear.” “I’m sure they are,” said Heimdall nonchalantly leaning on his weapons. “But maybe you should tell me first. Just to be sure.” He had watched this figure riding his way for many hundreds of miles with his divinely sharp eyes and he was curious as to what drove some stranger to come to Asgard from Midgard. It was a difficult ride to undertake, so this stranger could potentially be dangerous.
The man leaned over in the saddle and spit on the ground. “I’ll tell all the gods or I’ll tell no one. The goddesses will likely be interested as well.” Showing his teeth in what may have been intended as a smile but was definitely a threat, Heimdall directed the man across the Plain of Ida to Gladsheim. Keeping one hand firmly on his weapon, he sent a messenger to the halls of Asgard to gather the gods. Soon enough, they had all come to see what the stranger wanted with them. The stranger had by now made the long ride and tied up his horse in the stables. Entering into the great hall of Gladsheim beneath the shining roof, he found himself facing Odin and the twelve leading gods all seated in their tall chairs with a throng of lesser gods gathered throughout the hall. Everyone wanted to hear what news this stranger brought.
Odin eyed the man with his one good eye, the look a piercing warning. “We have all gathered at Heimdall’s bidding to hear what you would say. What is it you wish to bring before us?” The man smiled. “Just one thing, and a simple one at that. I’m here to rebuild your broken wall.” There was a stir at this pronouncement. No mere mortal could hope to rebuild the great walls of Asgard, so there must be a great deal more than meets the eye to this nameless builder. “Is that so.” “It is. Not only will I rebuild it, but my wall will be much taller and stronger than the old one. Once my work is done, your city will be nigh impregnable. Asgard will be a rock for the frost giants and the stone giants to smash themselves against even if they manage to invade Midgard. Asgard will stand safe and strong against any danger.”
Odin nodded slightly, considering. “And the catch?” “It will take me 18 months to finish from the day I begin.” “That’s rather a long time. It may not be possible,” cautioned Odin, ever alert for some danger or trick. The builder shook his head. “It is essential. 18 months, not a day less and not a day more.” “And your price for this great work?” The builder smiled. “So glad you asked. My price is Freyja’s hand in marriage.” In her own tall chair, Freyja sat bolt upright at this impetuous demand, her jewelry and cloth of gold clothing flashing with her anger. So brightly did the fairest of all goddesses shine that none but Odin himself could bear to look directly at her. Not that the other gods were super interested in looking at Freyja at the moment, even if she was more beautiful than Frigg or Nanna or Eir or even Sif. They were all too busy roaring with their own indignation at this presumptuous fucking builder. They all shouted and cursed, waving their arms and pointing their fingers as they demanded he be punished or thrown out on his head or maybe killed on the spot.
Odin let them all rage for a few moments before quieting everyone down. “Obviously fucking not. Freyja’s hand will not be given in exchange for a wall, no matter how grand.” The builder went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I also want the sun and the moon. That’s my price; Freyja’s hand, the sun, and the moon.” The hubbub rose again at this fresh insult, but Loki’s voice rose above everyone else’s. “There’s merit to be found in every idea. Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Maybe there’s something to this.”
All the gods turned to look at the sly trickster, wondering what was on the clever mind of Loki. “It’s only fair to give our guest’s proposal a full discussion. We owe him that much, at least.” The other gods weren’t exactly convinced, but they trusted Loki’s cleverness at least enough to send the builder away so they could discuss the proposal in private. The assembled gods began to discuss the idea in earnest and it soon became clear that, once their initial anger had cooled, they were all very interested in having someone else build the wall and maybe the price wasn’t so unreasonable after all. Realizing that she was about to be bartered away like a pretty statue, Freyja began to weep tears of gold. She wanted no part of this, but she clearly didn’t have the authority to stop it.
Loki finally spoke up again. “Maybe there’s a way to get our wall without upsetting poor Freyja too much. How about we accept our guest’s offer, but only if he can complete the wall in six months?” “But that’s impossible! No one could possibly rebuild the wall in just six months! The builder said he needed 18.” Loki smiled slyly. “Precisely my point. So what do we lose by proposing this? If the builder refuses to agree, we lose nothing. If he accepts, he’ll fail the bargain and we’ll get our wall without payment. Worst case, he quits after six months and at least we have part of the wall built already. There’s no possible downside here!”
Some of the gods and goddesses (Freyja chief among them) were nervous about taking Loki’s tricksy advice, but most of the assembled court found that there was no good reason not to play out his gambit. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain (and a few even secretly wished that they had thought up the clever stratagem themselves). They called the builder back into the hall and told him of their offer of six months. He could have his price – Freyja, the sun, and the moon, but only if he finished the wall in six months. The builder shook his head in dismay, but Odin steamrolled over him. “You start tomorrow, the first day of winter, should you agree. And you must also agree that you do all the work yourself without anyone else coming to help you.” Odin had sussed out that potential pitfall in Loki’s scheme and neatly avoided it. “If any part of the wall is unfinished by the first day of summer, you have failed and forfeit all of your price. Those are the terms we offer, and there will be no negotiation. Take it or leave it.” The builder looked around helplessly, his eyes lingering hungrily on Freyja. “That is an impossible bargain and you know it. I’d be a fool to take it. And yet…” He sighed. “My longing for Freyja has made me foolish it seems. Allow me the aid of my stallion Svadilfari at least. Just the two of us, and we’ll build your wall in six months.”
Odin shook his head. “I told you there would be no negotiation. Just you, no outside help.” Loki stepped up beside his blood brother, sensing that their mark was about to slip the net and escape. “Come now, Odin. What harm could there be in allowing him the use of a horse? It’s not like the fucking thing has hands, so how much help could it really be? If we refuse this small accommodation, we get no wall at all. Be reasonable, Odin, instead of a stubborn ass.” Odin didn’t like it, but Loki’s words were persuasive and he could see that the other gods had mostly been convinced. Sighing, he agreed to the amended terms. Odin and the builder both swore their oaths in front of many witnesses so that neither could back out. They also agreed to give the builder safe conduct since Odin was a little worried that Thor (who was away in the east fighting trolls at the moment) might not like this little bargain and might decide to kill the builder to end the deal early. Unlike in the MCU, Freyja is not his mother, he’s just very fond of her.
Long before the two horses (whose names mean Early Waker and All Swift) were to climb up into the sky with the sun in its chariot, the builder got to work. By the faint light of a new moon, he led Svaldifari down over a sweeping grassy plain beyond a copse of trees to a place where the bones of a hill jutted out of the green. Bringing with him a loosely meshed net, the builder enfolded several massive boulders and stone slabs, then hooked the loose ends of the net to the stallion. It was impressive work – only Thor could possibly have matched the great feat of strength this small, unassuming builder accomplished. Once it was all tied off, he bellowed and the stallion dug his hooves into the earth. It shouldn’t have been possible, but the horse strained and heaved and the enormous mound of stone moved slowly across the field and up the hill towards Asgard. By the time the sun rose above the horizon, the man and the horse were seated beside the broken base of the old wall, gasping and shaking with the strain.
When the gods and goddesses began to stir in their halls not long after, they were astonished to see the incredible quantity of stone that the builder and his horse had hauled up to the jobsite already. They watched, slack jawed, as the mason smashed and shaped the boulders into neatly dressed stone blocks. One by one, he set them in place in a steadily growing wall while Svadilfari rested in its shadow. Well shit, this was clearly no simple man. It must be something greater in disguise. They were nervous at this impressive start but, looking at the long arc of the broken wall, they assured themselves that he would never finish the whole thing in time. Six months just wasn’t long enough. He and the horse would slow down as they went. They couldn’t keep up that grueling pace forever, right?
Hraesvelgr, the eagle jotun beat his massive wings, generating the icy winds of winter that blew across Asgard. Snow blanketed the country and thunderstorms and hailstones pelted anyone unlucky enough to be outside. And by anyone, I mostly mean the builder and his horse, who both gritted their teeth and kept working through it all. Each night, Svadilfari plowed a great furrow from the stony hill that had become a quarry to the perimeter of Asgard as he hauled stone for the wall. Each day, the mason would dress and place the stones, building the wall tall and strong. Winter turned to spring and the six month deadline grew closer and closer.
Before long, only three days remained until midsummer and the builder’s deadline. He’d laid the stone all the way around the city’s perimeter, more than tall and strong enough to keep out even the most angry and determined invader. Only the grand gateway at the city’s entrance remained to be built, and if his previous pace was anything to go by, three days would be plenty. The Asgardian gods were drawn to the incredible sight like moths to flame and they could speak of nothing but the bargain. What had once seemed a sure thing now seemed an incredibly foolish risk.
Odin was hardly unaware of the whispers and the danger he now found himself in. Losing Freyja would be unacceptable (especially since she was an emissary from the Vanir), so he needed to find a way out of this godsforsaken bargain before it was too late. He called an assembly of the gods in Gladsheim to dish out blame to anyone but himself. He was the god of wisdom, so this clearly couldn’t be his fault. “So who the fuck thought this deal was a good idea? Who convinced us all that a wall was worth the risk of losing Lady Freyja and of having the sky stripped of the sun and the moon? Who’s name will we be cursing when we’re all groping around in the pitch blackness without any light to guide us?” A few of the bolder gods looked meaningfully over at Loki (who, to be fair, had legitimately pushed everyone to agree to what he swore was a sure thing). Soon everyone was staring at Loki, including Odin and his one good eye.
The Allfather strode over to the trickster, who was trying very hard to blend into the crowd, and seized him by the scruff of the neck. Odin shook Loki until his teeth rattled. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that bastard had padded his timetable by triple? Lousy contractors are liars, the lot of them. It’s not my fault – all of us agreed he couldn’t possibly pull this bullshit off!” Odin just shook him harder. “Come on, we all agreed! You know we did!” “And did we all push to accept the sun and the moon into the bargain? Who pushed us to let him use that fucking horse? You got us into this mess, you miserable excuse for a god, and now you’re going to get us out of it. I don’t care what it takes, make this go away.”
The gods all shouted their agreement, both to having someone else to blame for their collective mistake (Loki does bear the lion’s share of the blame to be sure, but not all of it) and to Odin’s insistence that he fix it himself. “Use that warped, twisted brain of yours for good for once and weave some fucking scheme, Loki. Either the mason forfeits his price, or you forfeit your life.” He squeezed the back of Loki’s neck until bone creaked and the shifty, shapeshifting trickster dropped to one knee in agony. “And I swear to you brother, we’ll make sure you suffer for a long, long time. So don’t fuck this up.” Loki nodded, eyes wide. He knew that Odin was deadly serious about this. “I swear it. No matter what it takes, I’ll make sure the mason fails.”
That evening, the builder led Svadilfari down towards the quarry as usual, though both had a certain spring to their step. They knew their great labor was nearly at an end and that they were going to pull off the seemingly impossible. They were justifiably proud of themselves. Not only would he win prizes that were pretty fucking sweet all by themselves, the builder would also be responsible for the delicious, delicious sorrow and infighting of the Asgardias at their devastating loss. He began to whistle as he went, then full on singing a jaunty tune so sweet that even the birds stopped their flight to listen. It wasn’t just the birds either – off in the woods, a young mare also pricked her ears forward and listened with interest.
As the builder and the stallion approached her, the mare burst out of the thicket and into a clearing. Trotting coquettishly, she flicked her tail across Svadilfari’s nose and nickered softly, dancing around the muscular stallion. Svadilfari’s nose twitched at the intoxicating scent of her and he began to strain against the reins lashing him to the stone. The mare whinnied invitingly and trotted slowly towards the treeline, throwing the stallion a long look over her flank. The stallion neighed loudly and reared before yanking against the ropes so powerfully that he broke them. Freed, he followed the mare into the woods, leaving the shouting, cursing mason to stumble awkwardly after them.
All night, the two horses ran about, flirting and playing in an equine manner, and all night the mason stumbled over tree roots in the dark as he tried and failed to catch his errant horse. It wasn’t until the golden light of dawn was just beginning to spark over the horizon that the stallion finally trotted back towards the mason, exhausted but entranced. He tried to hook the horse back up to the abandoned load of stone, but Svadilfari was no longer in any mood to work. He lay down in the traces and refused to move, no matter how the builder shouted or cursed. The builder gave it up as a bad job and went back to try and work on the gate with the stone left over from the day before, but there wasn’t nearly enough left over for him to make significant progress.
Sizing up the situation, the builder realized that with today mostly wasted, he wasn’t going to make the schedule. He’d gotten 95% of the way there, but he just couldn’t finish the gate in two days instead of three. Enraged, he lost control of the disguise he’d worn for all these months and his human skin shredded and fell away, revealing the enormous form of a rock giant beneath. As I’ve mentioned in the past, there is nothing the Asgardians hate so much as the giants, so they had no qualms about immediately revoking the builder’s promise of safe passage (which they felt had been given under false pretenses and was therefore null and void). Thor was summoned to deal with the giant problem, which only enraged said giant even further.
“This was some foul trick of yours, I know it! Tricked by a gang of sniveling gods and slutty goddesses! Fuck all of you faithless fucks!” Even as the giant’s curse was echoing off the almost-complete stone walls he had spent the last six months building, Thor stepped out into the clearing, Mjolnir in hand. With a single mighty blow of his warhammer, Thor shattered the giant’s skull into a thousand fragments, dispatching his soul to the endless dark of Niflheim. And that was the end of the mason, so the bargain was void. But wait, I hear you ask. What about Sleipnir, who you said this story was about? He hasn’t even appeared and the story’s already over!
Not quite. See, no one noticed at first, but Loki vanished after that day and no one saw him for quite a while. In fact, it wasn’t until a few months later that sharp-eyed Heimdall saw the trickster god come trotting over the Bifrost and blowing a raspberry at the bridge guardian. He wasn’t alone either – a strange eight-legged colt was trailing behind the god, a gray stallion who Loki introduced as Sleipnir. As he entered the city, Odin spied the fine young horse and was greatly impressed.
“Where’d you get that fine horse of yours, Loki? He’d make a fine mount for the chief of the gods.” “I got him out of my vagina when I gave birth to him, brother. He’s my son, but I agree that he would make a fine mount for you. With his eight strong legs, he can outrun the fastest horses in all the realms, even those who draw the sun or those who bear the other gods. No other horse will ever be able to outrun him.” Odin thanked his brother for this fine gift and welcomed him back to Asgard, his previous mistakes forgiven. In case it wasn’t obvious, the shapeshifting Loki was the sensual mare who had distracted the builder’s stallion in the most obvious way ever – horse sex. Loki led him on a merry chase but he couldn’t avoid him forever and that divine sex resulted in immediate pregnancy as it so often does.
This story is one of several mentions of Loki being genderfluid (though the ancient tales obviously don’t use that term). Although the ancient Norse had very strict ideas of gender (and were generally not fans of homosexuality), Loki is a trickster god, which means he is a transgressor of rules and boundaries. We see him use his shapeshifting abilities to become a woman in many, many stories (including the death of Baldur tale from Episode 23) and we also see Odin make reference to Loki using forms of magic specifically retained for women only and forbidden to men. In this tale, we even see him literally have sex as a female, get pregnant, and give birth, though he also has other children where he is the father. He laughs at boundaries and scoffs at gender norms, and has since long, long before the MCU (though this is a detail they definitely got right in the Loki tv show).
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re going to be vewy, vewy quiet because we’re hunting wabbits in the wilds of Rwanda. You’ll learn that you shouldn’t marry a lioness, that solid black hyenas are bad luck, and that you shouldn’t abandon your wife and newborn baby to play a board game. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet the blacksmith with a taste for human corpses. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.