"Norse Mythology" by Neil Gaiman, Chapters 1–5

Odin knows many secrets. He gave an eye for wisdom. More than that, for knowledge of runes, and for power, he sacrificed himself to himself.

He hung from the world-tree, Yggdrasil, hung there for nine nights. His side was pierced by the point of a spear, which wounded him gravely.

The winds clutched at him, buffeted his body as it hung.

He was cold, in agony, and on the point of death when his sacrifice bore dark fruit: in the ecstasy of his agony he looked down, and the runes were revealed to him.

Odin has many names. He is the all-father, the lord of the slain, the gallows god.

He brought war into the world: battles are begun by throwing a spear at the hostile army, dedicating the battle and its deaths to Odin.

Thor, Odin’s son, is the thunderer. He is straightforward where his father Odin is cunning, good-natured where his father is devious.

Thor, Odin’s son, is the thunderer. He is straightforward where his father Odin is cunning, good-natured where his father is devious.

Thor’s weapon is Mjollnir, a remarkable hammer, forged for him by dwarfs.

Loki is very handsome. He is plausible, convincing, likable, and far and away the most wily, subtle, and shrewd of all the inhabitants of Asgard.

Loki is very handsome. He is plausible, convincing, likable, and far and away the most wily, subtle, and shrewd of all the inhabitants of Asgard.

Loki is very handsome. He is plausible, convincing, likable, and far and away the most wily, subtle, and shrewd of all the inhabitants of Asgard.

He is tolerated by the gods, perhaps because his stratagems and plans save them as often as they get them into trouble.

Loki makes the world more interesting but less safe. He is the father of monsters, the author of woes, the sly god.

Here eleven poisonous rivers cut through the mist, each springing from the same well at the center of it all, the roaring maelstrom called Hvergelmir.

Between Muspell and Niflheim was a void, an empty place of nothingness, without form.

Only one giant, Bergelmir, Ymir's grandson, and his wife survived, by clambering onto a wooden box, which bore them like a boat. All the giants we see and we fear today are descended from them.

The ash tree is resilient and handsome and its roots go deep.

There are four stags who graze on the huge branches of the world-tree, devouring the foliage and the bark.

Long, long ago, when the worlds were young, Odin put on his long cloak and his hat, and in the guise of a wanderer he traveled through the land of the giants, risking his life to get to Mimir, to seek wisdom.

He rubbed Mimir’s head with certain herbs to prevent it from rotting, and he chanted charms and incantations over it, for he did not wish Mimir’s knowledge to be lost.

Her fingers reached up to her bare pink scalp and touched it, exploring it tentatively.

A hundred expressions chased each other across Loki’s face: cunning and shiftiness, truculence and confusion.

A hundred expressions chased each other across Loki’s face: cunning and shiftiness, truculence and confusion.

“Today,” mused Thor, “it will probably take me about an hour to break every bone in your body. But I bet that with practice I could get it down to about fifteen minutes. It will be interesting to find out.”

The most ingenious craftsmen of them all, he decided, were the three dwarfs known as the sons of Ivaldi.

Loki looked as guileless as he could, which was amazingly guileless.

“Right,” said Eitri. “You work the bellows, Brokk. Just keep pumping them. I need this hot, and I need it consistently hot, otherwise it won’t work. Pump. Pump.”

The black fly, up on the corner of the ceiling, seethed with resentment and irritation.

The black fly, up on the corner of the ceiling, seethed with resentment and irritation.

The insect stepped aside daintily to avoid a rivulet of sweat, for the air was hot and close in the forge.

The insect stepped aside daintily to avoid a rivulet of sweat, for the air was hot and close in the forge.

Loki, in fly shape, decided that there was no more time for subtlety.

"I might have wisely arranged for protection from knifeblades,” said Loki modestly. "Just in case the whole you-can’t-cut-my-neck ploy did not work. I am afraid no knifeblade can cut me!”

"I might have wisely arranged for protection from knifeblades,” said Loki modestly. "Just in case the whole you-can’t-cut-my-neck ploy did not work. I am afraid no knifeblade can cut me!”