Books, mythology, Philosophy

Three Crocks…


But Kvasir was not the only one

to disappear after visiting Fjalar and Galar…


When the Giant, Billing, and his wife,

failed to return to Jotunheim their son,

Suttung, set out in search of them…


He watched closely the gloomy features

of the dwarfs as they related another of their

preposterous stories, before seizing

each of them by the throat.


With a dwarf in each fist,

Suttung waded far out to sea,

and then dropped them both on a small rock

which rose just clear of the water.


“It’s too far for you to swim,” he said,

“And when the tide rises…”


Fjalar and Galar exchanged desperate grimaces.

“We have a proposal,” said Fjalar.

“Since we find ourselves here,” said Galar, “We’re

willing to offer you our Greatest Treasure.”

“In return for our lives,” added Fjalar.


Suttung returned the dwarfs to their cave,

where they handed over the two jars

and the cauldron containing Kvasir’s blood.


So, the Giant lumbered back to Jotunheim

and then took the precious liquid

straight to Mount Hnitbjorg where he lived.


Suttung let the Nine Worlds know just what

he had acquired from Fjalar and Galar.


He cut a new chamber

out of the heart of the mountain

and hid the three crocks of mead in it.


Then he set his daughter, Gunnlod,

to guard them day and night,

so that no one might steal the mead of poetry.



5 thoughts on “Three Crocks…”

  1. This tale reminds me of the wolf and the three little pigs. The bigger being is often outsmarted by the smaller creatures. Good telling of good theme.And I see that there is more to this tale than just that , but this struck me first so it is what came out. I didn’t mention the crocks of blood, but I imagine someone else will talk about that and the numbers, etc. Thanks! Great telling!

    Liked by 2 people

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