"Tell us some of the good old stories we love so much," said Mari. "There is no one who tells them so well, dear father."
It was the last evening he would be at home. The next morning he must start out for the cold, dreary camp in the woods. Every one was feeling sad, but all tried to hide it and seem gay and cheerful.
"What shall it be, a fairy-story, or a tale of the gods and goddesses in whom the Vikings believed?" he asked when the children had gathered around him, in front of the blazing logs in the fireplace.
"First let us hear that wonderful legend of the beginning of the world," answered Mari. "It is told in the Eddas, you know."
"Very well, then. Shut your eyes and try to think of a time when there was no earth, nor sun, nor stars, and the Great Father was All."
Mari opened her eyes after a moment and said, softly, "How lonely it must have been, papa."
"A time came, however," her father went on, "when all was changed. For out of the thoughts of the All-Father, the Land of Winter was formed in the far north. It was wrapped in ice and cold and mist. Then, far away to the south, arose the Land of Heat and Fire, whose flames never died nor burned low.
"Now, between the land of darkness and cold, and the land of light and heat, there was a great abyss, into which the icy rivers from the north were ever flowing. Mist rose from these waters and rushed to meet the sparks from the fires which were ever burning in the south lands. And as they met, a wondrous giant came into life, the child of Heat and Cold."
"Who was there to care for him when he was little?" asked Mari.
"He needed no one, because he was not like ourselves, my dear; still, he must have food. And so a wonderful cow appeared, to give him milk. As she licked the ice from the stones, a new being gradually took shape and arose. He was like ourselves, Mari, only larger, nobler, mightier. He was the father of all the gods, of whom you have read so many stories. I believe you are fondest of the god Odin, are you not, Ole?"