Then Odin put aside his sparkling crown and laid down his sceptre. His wonderful blue mantle, studded with stars and fastened always with a pale crescent moon, he also threw aside, and stepped forth in the garb of a common laborer. “It is in this guise that I shall win my way to the giant’s castle,” said Odin; and in a second he had passed out from the hall and was gone.
It was the giant, Suttung, that had stolen the wine, and it was in his castle that it had lain hidden all these years.
Now, of all the strong castles of all the giants, Suttung’s castle was the strongest. The cellar was cut into the solid rock. Moreover, three sides of the castle rose in solid walls of granite; while the fourth, no less firm and strong, was built of massive blocks bound with hoops and bars and bolts of strongest iron and steel.
Now, Suttung had a brother, Bauge, who was a giant farmer. He kept nine strong slaves, half giants themselves, to do his work for him.
As Odin approached the fields of Bauge’s farm, he saw the nine men hard at work.
“Your scythes are dull,” said he, as he drew near.
“Yes, but we have no whetstone to sharpen them upon,” answered the workmen, the great drops standing out upon their foreheads.
“I will sharpen them on mine,” said Odin, drawing one from his pocket.
“It is a magic whetstone!” cried the men as they saw it work. “Give it to us. We need it more than you. Give it to us. Give it to us.”
“Take it, then,” answered Odin, throwing it high in the air and walking off.