Perhaps the only aspect of Viking society that survives to this day is their penchant of telling tales of great deeds and events. Even today, Iceland boasts the highest number of books and authors per capita. So prevalent is this tradition, that saga expert Gisli Sigurdsson recalls his father and friends gathering each weekend to share tales "hung up on various branches of their family trees - which they knew by heart, backwards and forwards. They constantly spiced up their stories with rhymed, syllabic and alliterated verse - similar to the oral art of Viking Age storytellers". But where did this tradition come from? How did men learn to weave such tale? Well let me tell you: There was a young giantess called Gunnlod Suttungsdöttir. She was buxom and very beautiful, but she had never lain with a man. One day, her father, the giant Suttung, arrived home, pulling a wagon. Inside were three vats. He beckoned Gunnlod over to see them. They were filled with a curious liquid, the colour of dark amber. "What is it?" asked Gunnlod, "Magic Mead" Suttung said. "What do you mean by magic?" Gunnlod inquired. Suttung replied "I mean that anyone who drinks this mead will find their head bursting with knowledge and stories about everything in the world". "Who brewed it?" Gunnlod asked, "Fjalar and Galar" answered Suttung, "Two despicable dwarfs". Gunnlod sniffed and said "It smells like stale blood". "It's the blood of a man named Kvasir, the gods themselves created him from their own spittle, and moulded him to be wiser than anyone in all the worlds. Fjalar and Galar were so jealous of his talents that they murdered him, stole his blood and mixed it with honey. In this way, they brewed the magic mead" said Suttung. "How did you get hold of it?" inquired Gunnlod. "It's a long story" replied Suttung, "Remember how your grandfather, giant Gilling, was drowned at sea? And how, while your grandmother was still grieving for him, a millstone fell on her head? The truth is, neither of these tragedies happened by accident: Fjalar and Galar killed your grandparents too". "So you took revenge on them?" asked Gunnlod. "Of course, I chucked both dwarfs down a sheer cliff. But instead of falling into the sea and getting washed away as I intended, the little rats landed on a skerry and started cravenly pleading for their lives. In the end, we struck a bargain: I set them free and in return, they gave me the magic mead" replied Suttung. "Have you tasted it?" asked Gunnlod, "No" replied Suttung, "and I'm not letting anyone taste it either. It's much too valuable. For now, I'm just going to store it somewhere safe, deep inside a mountain". "But if the mead is so precious" exclaimed Gunnlod, "Surely there's a danger of someone breaking into the mountain and stealing it. Who will you set to guard it?", "You" Suttung said. So he lead the young giantess down long, secret tunnels to a cave in the very heart of the mountain. There he carved her a bed on a rocky ledge and gave her a pile of soft sheepskins to cover it. He set lamps to burn in crannies around the cold rock walls. He showed her where a freshwater spring dripped from the ceiling, and gave her enough dry biscuits and salted meat to last her many months. Finally, he set the three vats of magic mead in the centre of the floor. "I forbid you ever to touch them" he said, "and if anyone ever finds you here, no matter whether it's a giant, a man or a dwarf, don't you dare let him drink any of it, protect the mead with your life". "But...what is the point of owning it, if you never use the mead or even see it?" Gunnlod asked. "To increase my prestige, of course" replied Suttung, and with those words, he turned his back on his daughter, strode out of the cave, sealed up the entrance and hurried back to the sunshine. How long did the gentle giantess languish in that dreary, shadowy solitude? How did she pass her time there? Did she have wool to spin or a loom to work at? No one can tell. But at length she was wakened from restless slumber by a curious sound, creaking and twisting like an auger boring through wood. Soon this gave way to a soft hissing, growing closer and closer. At last, from a tiny hole in the rock wall, a snake slithered out and thrust itself into the cave. Gunnlod screamed. The snake rose up, shook itself - and suddenly transformed into a handsome, powerfully built young man. He spoke softly, soothing away Gunnlod's fear. After a while, he came to her rock bed, lay down beside her and took her in his arms. They spent three very pleasant nights together. Then the man asked Gunnlod if he had healed her loneliness, and whether she loved him. She said he had, and that she did. "Then will you give me a gift?" he asked her. She said that she would like to, only she had nothing to offer. "But you do" he said, "you have the magic mead". "I can't give you that" Gunnlod exclaimed, "I've sworn an oath to my father that I would never let a single drop of it pass the lips of a giant, man or dwarf". He laughed. "What giant can slip through an auger's hole? What man can shape-shift into a snake and back again? What dwarf can love a giantess so sweetly? You won't break your oath, Gunnlod, for the one who asks for this drink is a god". She glanced again at her lover - and saw now that his handsome features were a mere illusion. There was a dark void in his face, where one eye was missing. There were claw marks on his cloak, where ravens had roosted. She gasped and shuddered. "Are you... Odin?". "Let me taste it, Gunnlod" Odin replied. She dared not refuse, but, desperately seeking a way to avoid her father's anger, she cried, "Only three draughts, Odin, I beg you - no more!" Odin nodded. He seized the first vat and emptied it dry in one mouthful. He seized the second vat and did likewise. He seized the third vat and emptied this too in a single draught. His mouth was awash with magic mead. Gunnlod was helpless. In the gloom, Odin seemed to shimmer, then suddenly he transformed again - this time, into an eagle. The mountain then split asunder, revealing a dark, star-spangled sky, the eagle rose and Gunnlod saw no more. In the world outside, in the icy wastes of Jötunheim, Suttung spied the eagle. He knew it was Odin; he guessed his daughter had been seduced and tricked. Suttung too had shape-shifting powers; he too mutated into the form of an eagle, then rose into the sky, winging his way after Odin, heading towards Asgard, closing in fast. The gods saw them both coming, they hastened out with a great cauldron and placed it in an open spot amidst their golden halls. As Odin sank down to land, he caught sight of the cauldron and disgorged the magic mead into it. However, in his hurry, he spilt some. It trickled down the great walls that surrounded Asgard, and from there fell like dew into our realm. These drops of magic mead are the liquid seeds from which all great tales are born.