“You cannot tempt the daughter of Gymer with gold,” she said. “I have plenty here in my father’s palace.”
Failing in this, Skirner drew his sword—the coveted blade which he hoped to win for himself by the success of his mission—and flashing this before the maiden’s eyes he swore by the spear of Odin that he would kill her if she would not consent to wed with Freyr. But Gerd only laughed at his threats, and looked unmoved at the glistening steel.
“Keep your sword to terrify mortal maidens, or those who sit spinning in the halls of Asgard. The daughter of Gymer knows no such thing as fear,” she said.
As neither gold nor threats could move the beautiful Gerd to listen to his master’s suit, Skirner tried his last resource; and, calling upon all the powers of earth and air and water, he pronounced a terrible curse upon the maiden for her coldness to the unhappy Freyr. “May the sun never shine without bringing pestilence upon your land, and may each day add some trouble to those which already burden you. May sickness throw its blight upon you, and loathsome diseases render your beauty hideous. May old age lay its hand on you before youth is over, and may you sit lonely and desolate among your barren hills. May all the good things of life turn to gnawing pains until you are glad to pray for death. So shall there be no peace for you in all the world for having spurned the love of Freyr.”
At first the maiden paid no heed to these fearful words; but soon they seemed to weave a sort of magic spell about her. She trembled, and her beautiful face grew pale with fear. Suddenly she stretched out both white arms to Skirner, crying, “Does Freyr indeed love me so deeply that he can invoke all the powers of the earth to curse me for not wedding him?” Then Skirner told her how great his master was, and how truly the curse would be fulfilled if she hardened her heart against the love of Freyr. And as she listened to the speaker’s eager words of praise, the heart of Gerd was touched and she gave Skirner her promise to become Freyr’s wife.
“Though,” she added sadly, “it is strange indeed for Gymer’s daughter to wed with a god.” Skirner tried to persuade her to return with him at once to Asgard, but she said, “Go back to your master and tell him that I will meet him nine days hence in the groves of Bar-isle.”
So Skirner mounted his horse again and rode away from Jötunheim. Though the journey back to Asgard was as long and hard as his coming had been, it seemed to him to be far less wearisome; for the horse shared his rider’s gladness and galloped more lightly over the frozen ground, and the woods looked no longer as if peopled with dreadful shapes and shadows. When Skirner neared Asgard he saw far in the distance Freyr standing by the rainbow bridge eagerly watching for his messenger’s return. The impatient god did not wait, however, until horse and rider came close enough for him to see the gladness on Skirner’s face; but, believing that his servant had been unsuccessful, since he rode alone, Freyr turned sadly away. He did not even wish to speak with the man who had done him so great a service; but thought only of the loss of Gerd.
Then Skirner spurred his faithful horse till its hoofs struck fire from the hard stones beneath; and when the gates of Asgard were reached, he rushed eagerly in search of Freyr to tell him of Gerd’s promise. The god’s face was lit with a great joy as he heard that his love was to be rewarded, and that Gymer’s beautiful daughter was willing to become his wife.
The nine days of waiting seemed very long to the impatient lover; but at last the time came when the sun shone as it had never shone before, the trees blossomed—although it was still winter—and flowers bloomed along the path that led to the groves of Bar-isle. Then Freyr, full of the glad spirit of youth and love and springtime, went gayly to the trysting place; and there beneath the newly leafing trees stood Gerd, more beautiful by far than when he had seen her standing in her father’s halls.