They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of
mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in
their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly
weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of
men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness,
no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong.
Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen
country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods.
But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods
themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard
should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon
should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great
day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then
Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the
gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in
the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall,
and all things would pass away.
This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness,
showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They
had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater
than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men
alike.
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