Professionally speaking, the gods of the Norse pantheon have been good for the Marvel Comics publishing company. Marvel has been publishing Thor comic books, quite successfully, since the 1960’s. More recently, in this era of superhero blockbuster movies, Norse-myth characters like Thor, Odin, Loki, Heimdall, Frigg (Frigga), Hel (Hela), and Surtur have appeared in, to date, nine feature films and a television series. And if you would like to see where Stan Lee and his colleagues gathered their inspiration, this Penguin Books translation of Snorri Sturluson’s Prose Edda is a good place to start.
Snorri Sturluson (1179-1241) was a true Renaissance man, even if he lived long before the Renaissance began. He was a success in both business and politics (he was twice the speaker of the Althing, the Icelandic parliament), and he also committed himself to preserving as much as possible of Iceland’s pre-Christian culture. It is due largely to his efforts that we have the stories of the Prose Edda to take us into the world of the Vikings.
The Prologue to the Edda, somewhat awkwardly, links the figures of the Norse pantheon with the Biblical account of creation, and even with the people of classical Troy, as when Sturluson describes how “Troan, the daughter of Priam, the chief king” gave birth to “a son who was named Tror, the one we call Thor” (p. 37).
Really? Í alvöru? It sounds to me as though, in those deeply religious medieval times, Sturluson may have been anxious to make sure that his readers would know that he wasn’t advocating what we might nowadays call neo-paganism.
Still, it is interesting to get the initial introduction to Thor, with suitable emphasis on his strength: “By the time he was twelve years old, he had acquired his full strength. Then he was able to lift from the ground ten bearskins, all in a pile”, after which he went travelling, and “overcame all manner of berserkers and giants, as well as one of the greatest dragons and many beasts” (p. 37). We also have our first meeting with Odin – “an excellent man because of his wisdom”, who “had the gift of prophecy” and “became aware that his name would become renowned in the northern part of the world and honoured more than other kings. For this reason he was eager to set off from Turkey…” (p. 39).
I found this Trojan connection with the Norse myths rather limiting, and was glad when Sturluson went on to “Gylfaginning (The Deluding of Gylfi)”, in which a Swedish king travels to Asgard, the realm of the Aesir, the royal family of Norse gods, hoping to learn the sources of their divine power. But the Aesir, knowing in advance of Gylfi’s schemes, delude him by creating three avatars of Odin, disguised as three kings who welcome Gylfi to Odin’s hall and promise to answer his questions.
What follows works along the lines of a catechism, as Gylfi asks questions and the three kings offer seemingly helpful answers. We learn that Odin “lives through all ages and governs all things”, that he “made heaven, earth, and the skies and everything in them”, and that he “created man and gave him a living spirit that will never die” (p. 44). Odin is “called All-Father, because he is the father of all the gods” (p. 64). He drank from the well of Mimir, the well of knowledge, “but he did not get this [drink] until he gave one of his eyes as a pledge” (p. 58).
The three kings tell Gylfi about the different realms that are bound together by Yggdrasil, the World Tree – places like Niflheim, the realm of darkness, and Muspelheim, the realm of fire. Muspelheim is the home of Surt: “He has a flaming sword, and when the end of the world comes, he will set off to battle and defeat all the gods, burning the whole world with fire” (p. 45). The idea that the power of the gods is finite, and that they will all die in the last battle at Ragnarok, is always at the heart of the Edda. Indeed, it was because of his foreknowledge of Ragnarok that Odin was willing to sacrifice an eye for a drink from the well of knowledge: as translator and commentator Jesse Byock of UCLA points out, “Odin knows that all will be lost at Ragnarok, and constantly seeks the knowledge to forestall the coming doom” (p. 21).
We are introduced once again to Thor – “He has strength and might, and because of this, he defeats all living creatures” (p. 52) Thor’s most prized possession is “the hammer Mjollnir. Frost giants and mountain giants recognize it when it is raised in the air, which is not surprising as it has cracked many a skull among their fathers and kinsmen” (p. 65).
And fans of the MCU Thor universe will enjoy hearing Sturluson’s description of the rainbow bridge Bifrost: “Haven’t you heard that the gods built a bridge from the earth to the sky and it is called Bifrost? You will have seen it, and possibly you call it the rainbow. It has three colours and great strength” (p. 54). Bifrost is guarded by Heimdall: “He is the watchman of the gods and sits at heaven’s end, where he keeps watch over the bridge against the mountain giants. He needs less sleep than a bird, and he can see equally well by night or by day, a distance of a hundred leagues” (p. 70)
Not included in the MCU films, but important in the Mighty Thor comic books and graphic novels (as in the original mythology), is Baldur, the shining god of light, to whom the three kings give a good deal of attention: “Odin’s second son is Baldur, and there is much good to tell about him. He is the best, and all praise him. He is so beautiful and so bright that light shines from him….He is the wisest of the gods. He is also the most beautifully spoken and the most effective” (p. 66). He is such a perfect and beloved god, in short, that he is clearly not long for this doomed Norse world.
And then, of course, there is the trickster god Loki. “Loki is pleasing, even beautiful to look at, but his nature is evil and he is undependable. More than others, he has the kind of wisdom known as cunning, and is treacherous in all matters” (p. 73). One of the children that Loki had with the giantess Angrboda is Hel: “She is half black and half a lighter flesh colour, and is easily recognized. Mostly she is gloomy and cruel” (p. 73). She rules, in dark Niflheim, over the dead who died of disease or old age.
More fortunate, among the dead, are those who die in battle. The Valkyrie warrior-women “are sent by Odin to every battle, where they choose which men are to die, and they determine who has the victory” (p. 79). The lucky, battle-slain warriors get to go to Valhalla, the feasting hall of the gods, where the schedule of entertainment is as follows: “Every day, after they dress, they put on their war gear. Then they go out to the courtyard and battle, the one attacking the other. Such is their sport. When it comes time to eat, they ride home to Valhalla and sit down to drink” (p. 84). Fighting all day and drinking all night – in the Viking cosmos, that was evidently as good as it gets.
Fans of the MCU Thor films may be surprised to discover that the progression of the Loki character is exactly the opposite in the Edda from what one sees in the Thor movies and the Loki television series. In those media products, Loki begins as a cold and treacherous villain, gradually evolves into a sort of conflicted anti-hero, and finally emerges as a flawed hero seeking redemption. In the myths, by contrast, Loki starts as a trickster who creates problems but then helps Thor fix them, and only later becomes a true figure of destruction and evil.
One sees a crucial moment from this transformation in “The Death of Baldur.” When Baldur begins having nightmares about dying an untimely death – an event that everyone knows will bring on Ragnarok – the gods secure (they think) assurance from all things on Earth that they will not harm Baldur. The gods then amuse themselves throwing all sorts of dangerous weapons at Baldur and watching them bounce off him. But then Loki learns that mistletoe, a tiny sprig of mistletoe, is the one thing in the nine realms that has not promised not to hurt Baldur:
Loki got hold of the mistletoe. He broke it off and went to the assembly.
Hod, because he was blind, stood at the edge of the circle of people. Loki spoke to him, asking, “Why aren’t you shooting at Baldur?”
Hod replied, “Because I can’t see where Baldur is, and also I have no weapon.”
Then Loki said, “You should be behaving like the others, honouring Baldur as they do. I will direct you to where he is standing. Shoot this twig at him.”
Hod took the mistletoe and, following Loki’s directions, shot at Baldur. The shot went right through Baldur, who fell to the ground, dead. This misfortune was the worst that had been worked against gods and men. Baldur’s death left the gods speechless and so weak that they were unable to muster the strength to lift him up in their arms. (p. 102)
Loki is subjected to a cruel punishment for his act. Hermod, son of Odin, makes a bold voyage to the underworld, like Odysseus and Aeneas before him, hoping that Hel of Niflheim will permit Baldur to return to the world of the living. But the reader gets a strong sense that nothing will prevent the onset of Ragnarok, the war of the end of the world: “Thor will kill the Midgard Serpent, and then he will take nine steps back. Because of the poison the serpent has spit upon him, he will fall to the Earth, dead. The wolf will swallow Odin, and that will be his death….Loki will battle with Heimdall, and they will be the death of each other. Next, Surt will throw fire over the Earth and burn the whole world” (pp. 109-10). Yet there is a vague promise of rebirth, amidst all that devastation.
From the Gylfaginning, the reader learns a great deal about Norse mythology. As for King Gylfi, he leaves his interview with the three avatars of Odin not a penny the richer; but he carries the tales away with him, to pass them down through future generations in Scandinavia and beyond.
The “Skaldskaparmal (Poetic Diction)” is something of a primer on poetic technique for aspiring poets of Viking times. Much of it works like a style guide, but Sturluson helpfully provides some stories as examples of poetic diction well deployed. And one learns that poets were expected to know lots of kennings (compound figurative expressions) rather than just repeating someone’s name over and over again.
Thus Thor can be referred to via such kennings as “the wielder or possessor of the hammer Mjollnir…the defender of Asgard and Midgard, the foe and killer of giants and troll women…the enemy of the Midgard Serpent…” (p. 149), and so on. Heimdall, meanwhile, “can be called the son of nine mothers, the watchman of the gods…the white one of the Aesir, Loki’s foe, or the seeker of Freya’s ring” (p. 151). And Loki is “the author of woes, the sly god, the one who slanders and betrays the gods, the one who engineered Baldur’s death, the bound one…” (p. 152). You get the idea.
Translator Byock provides helpful appendices on “The Norse Cosmos and the World Tree,” “The Language of the Skalds [poets],” and the Eddic poems that were used as sources for “Gylfaginning.” There is also a schematic of the Nine Realms, a set of genealogical tables, and a useful Glossary of Names, from which I learned, for example, that the name of the hammer Mjollnir comes from the Old Norse term Mjöllnir, and has “probably to do with milling and grinding, hence a hammer that breaks or grinds into tiny fragments” (p. 214).
For anyone who wants to explore the grim world of the Norse gods, this edition of The Prose Edda provides just the ticket one needs to travel over the Bifrost rainbow-bridge to Asgard.