PART II. LOKI—THE IRON WOOD—A BOUNDLESS WASTE.
The cats champed their bright bits, and skimmed alike over earth and air with swift, clinging steps, eager and noiseless. The chariot rolled on, and Freyja was carried away up and down into every part of the world, weeping golden tears wherever she went; they fell down from her pale cheeks, and rippled away behind her in little sunshiny rivers, that carried beauty and weeping to every land. She came to the greatest city in the world, and drove down its wide streets.
"But none of the houses here are good enough for Odur," said Freyja to herself; "I will not ask for him at such doors as these."
So she went straight on to the palace of the king.
"Is Odur in this palace?" she asked of the gate-keeper. "Is Odur, the Immortal, living with the king?"
But the gate-keeper shook his head, and assured her that his master had never even heard of such a person.
Then Freyja turned away, and knocked at many other stately doors, asking for Odur; but no one in all that great city so much as knew her husband's name.