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"A hero strong and brave must ride through the flame to arouse her. It is for this that I have brought you hither; and here I will leave you, while I sail onwards to brighten other lands with my music." Siegfried's heart leaped up with gladness; for he thought that here, at last, was a worthy deed for him to do. And he bade his friend Bragi good-by, and stepped ashore; and Greyfell followed him.
Then she went up the steps holding the cup, and the king smiled on her as she came, and so she stood on the dais before the table and held out the wine, and begged the king to drink the "Bragi bowl" from her hands in her father's town.
Maybe there is more to be learnt of the matter, but if so that can rest. Think now only of these two brave ones, I pray you, for I have yet the Bragi bowl to drink, and it is not hard to say whom I should pledge therein." Then he looked round for Elfrida, not having noticed that she had gone with the queen.
In an instant the fires have been lighted, and the great flames roar to heaven. The eagle sweeps across the fiery line a second later and falls, maimed and burned to the ground; where a dozen fierce hands smite the life out of him, and the great giant Thjasse perishes among his foes. Idun resumes her natural form as Bragi rushes to meet her. The gods crowd round her.
His sister Freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. She is very fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to become young again.
Thor came on foot, with his hammer tightly grasped in his hands, and lightning flashing from beneath his red brows. Tyr, the one-handed, came with his sword. Then followed Bragi the Wise, with his harp and his sage counsels; then Hermod the Nimble, with his quick wit and ready hands; and, lastly, a great company of elves and wood-sprites and trolls.
I had not said much of her to any one, except as one must speak of people with whom one has been for a while. Strangely enough had come to pass that which I vowed to do for Elfrida, though not in the way which had been in my mind when I drank the Bragi bowl.
He presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. His sister Freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. She is very fond of love-ditties, and all lovers would do well to invoke her. Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of warriors.
Bragi and Thor, anxiously gazing into the sky, saw Loki, in Freyja's falcon plumage, speeding homeward, with the nut-shell in his talons, and Old Winter, in his eagle plumage, dashing after in sharp pursuit.
Little by little the light of youth and beauty faded from the home of the gods, and they themselves became old and haggard. Their strong, young faces were lined with care and furrowed by age, their raven locks passed from gray to white, and their flashing eyes became dim and hollow. Bragi, the god of poetry, could make no music while his beautiful wife was gone he knew not whither.
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