by Luke Landry
Long ago, there was war between the Æsír and Vanir. Their mighty armies clashed, and for many years neither side could take advantage over the other. Weary from the endless war, they negotiated an agreement, and peace was restored. To seal their truce, the Gods and Goddesses all spit into a vat. Their saliva mixed and mingled, and from it a wise God was born. Kvasir had infinite knowledge, and could answer any questions posed to him.
Kvasir traveled extensively, spreading his knowledge throughout the nine worlds. His travels brought him to a meeting with two dwarves, Fialar and Galar. The dwarves tried their best to stump Kvasir with their questions. But no matter how difficult or tricky, Kvasir was able to answer them easily. Enraged, the dwarves killed Kvasir, and with his blood they brewed the finest mead the world has ever known. A mere taste of this mead would cause a frenzy in the mind, a burning inspiration to produce works of poetry, song, and story. It became known as the Mead of Poetry. This mead ended up in the possession of a giant named Suttungr.
After a while, the Gods noticed that Kvasir had not returned to Asgarð in some time, and they discovered his fate. Oðin set out to claim the mead made from Kvasir’s blood and bring it back to Asgarð where it belonged. Through the cold and pounding rain, Oðin traveled to the land of giants, and he came upon the fields owned by Suttungr’s brother, Baugi. Oðin came up with a plan to win the mead. He tricked Baugi’s nine workers into killing each other. With nobody left to work the fields, Oðin agreed to perform the tasks of Baugi’s nine servants, and he reaped a great harvest for the giant. All he requested in return was to taste of the Mead of Poetry. Baugi agreed, but Suttungr could not be convinced to share even a drop of the precious mead with the wandering God.
But Oðin had a backup plan. If Baugi could not provide the mead, Oðin would get it from Suttungr’s daughter, Gunnlod. He had Baugi bore a hole into the mountain where Suttungr resided, and taking the form of a snake, he entered through this hole to Gunnloð’s chamber. Oðin slept with Gunnloð for three nights, and asked her to give him three sips of the mead. Gunnloð did not see what harm would come from allowing her lover a small amount of the mead, but in three gulps Oðin consumed all of it. Taking the shape of an eagle, he flew back to Asgarð. Once there, he spit the mead into vessels prepared by the Gods.
But some of the mead was lost along the journey. It poured down upon the folk of Midgarð, raining down and providing inspiration to those who tasted it. And this sacred mead continues to pour down upon us even today. So, next time you are outside in the rain, tilt your head back, open your mouth, and let the rain fall upon your tongue. Who knows? You may just find your mind burning with the fire of inspiration.
