Idun (Old Norse “Iðunn”) is a beautiful Goddess with long golden hair, she is the Goddess of spring and eternal youth, she guards the apples of youth in Norse mythology. Idun supplies the other Gods and Goddesses with the apples of youth, to keep them young and beautiful forever. Idun is the daughter of the dwarf Ivald, and she is married to Bragi “the God of poetry and music”.
Once upon a time Odin, Loke, and Hoener started on a journey. They had often traveled together before on all sorts of errands, for they had a great many things to look after, and more than once they had fallen into trouble through the prying, meddlesome, malicious spirit of Loke, who was never so happy as when he was doing wrong. When the Gods went on a journey they traveled fast and hard, for they were strong, active spirits who loved nothing so much as hard work, hard blows, storm, peril, and struggle. There were no roads through the country over which they made their way, only high mountains to be climbed by rocky paths, deep valleys into which the sun hardly looked during half the year, and swift-rushing streams, cold as ice, and treacherous to the surest foot and the strongest arm. Not a bird flew through the air, not an animal sprang through the trees.
It was as still as a desert. The Gods walked on and on, getting more tired and hungry at every step. The sun was sinking low over the steep, pine-crested mountains, and the travelers had neither breakfasted nor dined. Even Odin was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, like the most ordinary mortal, when suddenly, entering a little valley, the famished Gods came upon a herd of cattle. It was the work of a minute to kill a great ox and to have the carcass swinging in a huge pot over a roaring fire.
But never were Gods so unlucky before! In spite of their hunger, the pot would not boil. They piled on the wood until the great flames crackled and licked the pot with their fiery tongues, but every time the cover was lifted there was the meat just as raw as when it was put in. It is easy to imagine that the travelers were not in very good humor. As they were talking about it, and wondering how it could be, a voice called out from the branches of the oak overhead, “If you will give me my fill I’ll make the pot boil.”
The Gods looked first at each other and then into the tree, and there they discovered a great eagle. They were glad enough to get their supper on almost any terms, so they told the eagle he might have what he wanted if he would only get the meat cooked. The bird was as good as his word, and in less time than it takes to tell it supper was ready. Then the eagle flew down and picked out both shoulders and both legs.
This was a pretty large share, it must be confessed, and Loke, who was always angry when anybody got more than he, no sooner saw what the eagle had taken than he seized a great pole and began to beat the rapacious bird unmercifully. Whereupon a very singular thing happened, as singular things always used to happen when the Gods were concerned: the pole stuck fast in the huge talons of the eagle at one end, and Loke stuck fast at the other end.
Struggle as he might, he could not get loose, and as the great bird sailed away over the tops of the trees, Loke went pounding along on the ground, striking against rocks and branches until he was bruised half to death. The eagle was not an ordinary bird by any means, as Loke sown found when he begged for mercy. The giant Thjasse happened to be flying abroad in his eagle plumage when the hungry travelers came under the oak and tried to cook the ox. It was into his hands that Loke had fallen, and he was not to get away until he had promised to pay roundly for his freedom.
If there was one thing which the Gods prized above their other treasures in Asgard, it was the beautiful fruit of Idun, kept by the Goddess in a golden casket and given to the Gods to keep them forever young and fair. Without these Apples, all their power could not have kept them from getting old like the meanest of mortals. Without these Apples of Idun Asgard itself would have lost its charm; for what would heaven be without youth and beauty forever shining through it?
Thjasse told Loke that he could not go unless he would promise to bring him the Apples of Idun. Loke was wicked enough for anything; but when it came to robbing the Gods of their immortality, even he hesitated. And while he hesitated the eagle dashed hither and thither, flinging him against the sides of the mountains and dragging him through the great tough boughs of the oaks until his courage gave out entirely, and he promised to steal the Apples out of Asgard and give them to the giant.
Loke was bruised and sore enough when he got on his feet again to hate the giant who handled him so roughly, with all his heart, but he was not unwilling to keep his promise to steal the Apples, if only for the sake of tormenting the other Gods. But how was it to be done? Idun guarded the golden fruit of immortality with sleepless watchfulness. No one ever touched it but herself, and a beautiful sight it was to see her fair hands spread it forth for the morning feasts in Asgard. The power which Loke possessed lay not so much in his own strength, although he had a smooth way of deceiving people, as in the goodness of others who had no thought of his doing wrong because they never did wrong themselves.
Not long after all this happened, Loke came carelessly up to Idun as she was gathering her Apples to put them away in the beautifully carved box which held them.
“Good morning, Goddess,” said he. “How fair and golden your Apples are!”
“Yes,” answered Idun; “the bloom of youth keeps them always beautiful.”
“I never saw anything like them,” continued Loke slowly, as if he were talking about a matter of no importance, “until the other day.”
Idun looked up at once with the greatest interest and curiosity in her face. She was very proud of her Apples, and she knew no earthly trees, however large and fair, bore the immortal fruit.
“Where have you seen any Apples like them?” she asked.
“Oh, just outside the gates,” said Loke indifferently. “If you care to see them I’ll take you there. It will keep you but a moment. The tree is only a little way off.”
Idun was anxious to go at once. “Better take your Apples with you to compare them with the others,” said the wily God, as she prepared to go.
Idun gathered up the golden Apples and went out of Asgard, carrying with her all that made it heaven. No sooner was she beyond the gates than a mighty rushing sound was heard, like the coming of a tempest, and before she could think or act, the giant Thjasse, in his eagle plumage, was bearing her swiftly away through the air to his desolate, icy home in Thrymheim, where, after vainly trying to persuade her to let him eat the Apples and be forever young like the Gods, he kept her a lonely prisoner.
Loke, after keeping his promise and delivering Idun into the hands of the giant, strayed back into Asgard as if nothing had happened. The next morning, when the Gods assembled for their feast, there was no Idun. The day after day went past, and still, the beautiful Goddess did not come. 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. Brage, the God of poetry, could make no music while his beautiful wife was gone he knew not whither.
Morning after morning the faded light broke on paler and ever paler faces until even in heaven the eternal light of youth seemed to be going out forever. Finally, the Gods could bear the loss of power and joy no longer. They made a rigorous inquiry. They tracked Loke on that fair morning when he led Idun beyond the gates; they seized him and brought him into solemn council, and when he read in their haggard faces the deadly hate which flamed in all their hearts against his treachery, his courage failed, and he promised to bring Idun back to Asgard if the Goddess Freyja would lend him her falcon-guise. No sooner said than done; and with an eager gaze, the Gods watched him as he flew away, becoming at last only a dark moving speck against the sky.
After long and weary flight Loke came to Thrymheim and was glad enough to find Thjasse gone to sea and Idun alone in his dreary house. He changed her instantly into a nut and taking her thus disguised in his talons, flew away as fast as his falcon wings could carry him. And he had need of all his speed, for Thjasse, coming suddenly home and finding Idun and her precious fruit gone, guessed what had happened, and, putting on his eagle plumage, flew forth in a mighty rage, with vengeance in his heart.
Like the rushing wings of a tempest, his mighty pinions beat the air and bore him swiftly onward. From mountain peak to mountain peak he measured his wide course, almost grazing at times the murmuring pine forests, and then sweeping high in mid-air with nothing above but the arching sky, and nothing beneath but the tossing sea. At last, he sees the falcon far ahead, and now his flight becomes like the flash of the lightning for swiftness, and like the rushing of clouds for an uproar.
The haggard faces of the Gods line the walls of Asgard and watch the race with tremulous eagerness. Youth and immortality are staked upon the winning of Loke. He is weary enough and frightened enough too, as the eagle sweeps on close behind him; but he makes desperate efforts to widen the distance between them. Little by little the eagle gains on the falcon. The Gods grow white with fear; they rush off and prepare great fires on the walls. With fainting, drooping wing the falcon passes over and drops exhausted by the wall. 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 Brage rushes to meet her. The Gods crowd around her. She spreads the feast, the golden Apples gleaming with unspeakable luster in the eyes of the Gods. They eat, and once more their faces glow with the beauty of immortal youth, their eyes flash with the radiance of divine power, and, while Idun stands like a star for beauty among the throng, the song of Brage is heard once more; for poetry and immortality are wedded again.