He was still very far from the gods’ realm, however, when he suddenly became aware of a pursuer, and, turning his head, ascertained that Suttung, having also assumed the form of an eagle, was coming rapidly after him to compel him to surrender the stolen mead. Odin therefore flew faster and faster, straining every nerve to reach Asgard before the foe should overtake him, while the gods anxiously watched the race.
Seeing that Odin was greatly handicapped and would scarcely be able to escape, the Æsir hastily gathered all the combustible materials they could find, and as soon as he had flown over the ramparts of their dwelling, they set fire to the mass of fuel, so that the flames, rising high, singed the wings of Suttung, who, bewildered with pain, fell into the very midst of the fire, where he was burned to death.
As for Odin, he flew on to the spot where the gods had prepared vessels for the stolen mead, and disgorged the draught of inspiration in such breathless haste that a few drops were scattered over the earth. There they became the portion of rhymsters and poetasters, the gods reserving the divine beverage for their own consumption, and only occasionally vouchsafing a taste to some favored mortal, who, immediately after, won world-wide renown by his inspired songs.
“Of a well-assumed form
I made good use:
Few things fail the wise;
For Od-hroerir
Is now come up
To men’s earthly dwellings.”
Hávamál (Thorpe’s tr.).