In the realm behind all things towers an ash tree so mighty and tall that stars spin and dance among its branches like fireflies on a summer's eve; so tall and mighty that the greatest forest known by mankind creeps in its shadow as humble and lowly as a scab of lichen upon a boulder.
"The steed of Yggr," some call this great tree: Ygg's drasil -- for Yggr (or Odin) once hung upon it, rode its highest boughs, suffering agony for nine days and nine nights in order to win the mastery and magic of runes.
Odin's eagle perches in the loftiest branches, watching all that goes on in the nine worlds that hang among the boughs of Yggdrasil. Odin himself and his kin, the lofty and powerful Aesir-folk, rule from Asgard. Their cousins, the shapeshifting powers of earth and sea, dwell in Vanaheim, home of the Vanir. Elves and tusse-folk and magical creatures frolic in Alfheim (elf-home), the third glorious realm in the heights.
Lower in the Tree hang other worlds. Mankind dwells in Midgard (Mid-earth), giants in Utgard (Outer-earth), cunning and sharp-witted dwarves in Nedavellir (the Nether Plains), while in Svartalfheim (dark elves' home) lurk trolls and jotuns, hags and ogres, foul beasts of every kind.
The last two of the Nine Worlds, Niflheim and Muspell, lands of fire and ice, hang lowest of all in the Tree, not far above a huge serpent that coils about the trunk.
The roots of Yggdrasil cradle magical springs. Odin once gave up an eye to pay for a drink from Mimir's spring, and thus gained the gift of wisdom.
By Urdr's spring dwell the three Norns -- Urd, Verdandi and Skuld. These Fates of the north are always spinning thread, one strand for the life of each mortal. The drop spindle whirls, the dangling thread lengthens, twist by twist, twining smooth with good fortune or lumpy with troubles and trials.
When one of the Norns takes out her shears and snips a thread, that life ends. Even so do Norse tales come to a close with the phrase, "Snipp, snapp, snute, nå er eventyret ute" -- "End, brisk, end, now is the folktale done."
Or, in keeping with the lyrical essence of the original, "Snip, snap, snoo, now my tale is through."
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One of Thor's chariot-goats brings a message from the Norns to a poor woodcutter's daughter, throwing her life into worse turmoil than ever. You can find my historical-fantasy novel TROLL AND TRYLLERI on Amazon, a much safer place than the story's setting in the troll-haunted heights of 9th-century Norway.
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Fragile Strands: one snippet of Norse mythology
FantasyWho is spinning what in Norse mythology? Three sisters at the root of the great World Tree...
