The gods raised their halls and halidoms. They played at draughts with pieces made of gold. At a well beneath that root of the Tree which is nearest Asgard sat the three great Norns, who cut the runes that say what every life shall come to. There each morning the Aesir foregathered to think on what works they would do. Peace made its home among them and beneath the roofs of men.

But, slowly, ill will bred. Men in Midgard were offering to whatever gods they saw fit. Most turned to the Vanir for the kind of welfare that that race could best bestow. The Aesir began to feel aggrieved.

Heimdall left Asgard and fared about on earth, naming himself Rig. Wherever he was an overnight guest, he begot a son. From them sprang the stocks of thrall, yeoman, and high-born. When Kon, youngest offspring of Jarl, was grown, Rig came back to teach him the skills whereby he Made himself the first king. In this wise did Heimdall lure to the Aesir a following that outnumbered the worshippers of the Vanir.

Forth from Vanaheim went Gullveig. So blindingly fair was she to behold that she became known as Heid, the Shining One. But she was the worst of witches. Madness she sowed in the minds of men, and to evil women she gave delight. Wickedness awakened anger, which led to woe. Having brought bane on Midgard, she dared cross the rainbow bridge to Asgard.

Before she could wreak further harm, Odin bade the gods slay her. There in his hall they smote her with spears. She laughed at them. They burned her and she stepped from the ashes aglow like molten gold. Thrice did they thus fail of her death. Thereafter she left them, to seek Vanaheim again and tell what had befallen her.

Outraged, the Vanir moved on Asgard. From his high seat, which overlooks every world, Odin saw them coming, weapons aflash, footfalls and hoofbeats athunder. He led the Aesir out to meet them. When they drew nigh, he cast his spear over their host. So began the first war that ever was.

It reached earth, too. Men fought each other, as they do to this day. They called on the Aesir, and Odin granted victory to his chosen. But his own war he could not win. Helped by their black arts, the Vanir at first kept the field in most battles. They thrust up to the very walls of Asgard and broke them down.

The Aesir rallied and drove them back. To and fro the strife surged, year after year, laying both lands waste. Ill tended by its gods, earth suffered as grievously. Men hungered, struggled for scraps, and could seldom spare a beast to slaughter for the high ones. In their mountain fastnesses the giants muttered of Ymir and whetted their iron.