While Wotan was frowning and pondering to himself, his brother Loki whispered in his ear,
"Let them build the palace. We shall find another way out of the bargain."
Now Loki, god of fire, was the craftiest of all the gods. So when Wotan heard his whispered advice his brow cleared, and he looked at the giants.
"So be it!" he commanded. "Build me the castle 'gainst another sunrise. It shall be Walhalla—the supreme home of gods and men."
The giants bowed and went their way. Presently the sound of mighty blows was heard, and terrific crashes as of the bursting asunder of rocks. All that day and night the tumult continued, while the earth shook to its very foundations.
The next morning the rising sun lit up a splendid spectacle. There stood Walhalla, magnificent home of the gods, upon the crest of a towering cliff. Its white walls gleamed and glistened. Its towers and buttresses were built of stones so large that they seemed placed for all eternity; yet the whole mass appeared as light and graceful as a fairy vision.
"Beautiful! Wonderful!" cried the gods and goddesses in rapture.
"Let us take up our abode in our new home!" said Wotan, with the delight of a schoolboy.
But just then the two giants appeared clad in their shaggy skins of slain animals.
"Hold!" said Fafner. "First give us in payment the goddess Freia as you promised us."