The next poem, For Skirnis (literally “Skirnir’s Journey”), is also preserved in part in the manuscript AM 748 I 4to, where it is called Skirnismal (“Skirnir’s Words”). Read literally, the poem presents an unlovely picture of the god of agriculture, Frey, who sees a beautiful giant woman named Gerth, daughter of Gymir, when he is sitting upon Odin’s throne, Hlithskjalf. Beauty and bright light are stereotypically associated in Old Norse, hence the description of Gerth as literally luminous in stanza 6. Frey sends his messenger Skirnir to convince Gerth to marry him at any cost, and his efforts make up the bulk of the poem. After many threats and curses, Gerth agrees to marry Frey, but she stipulates that Frey must wait nine nights’ time. Skirnir returns to Frey and tells him that he must wait nine nights, which prompts Frey to close the poem by complaining that he must wait three nights. This difference in numbering is perhaps the reflection of an old custom compelling men to wait for a hynott (literally, “marriage-night”), which lasted three days, before they could consummate an agreed marriage. The poem’s narrative has been interpreted as an allegory, in which Frey as the god of agriculture sends “the shining one” (which is the literal meaning of Skirnir, perhaps intended to evoke the sun) to prepare the thawing earth (symbolized by Gerth, whose name may be related to the word for “farm”) for the first sowing at the end of winter. As usual, the prose introduction and insertions are part of how the poem was preserved in the manuscript.
Frey, son of Njorth, sat on Hlithskjalf and looked out over all the worlds. He looked into Jotunheim, and there he saw a beautiful woman who walked from her father’s house to her own little detached house nearby. He became lovesick from the sight.
Frey had a servant who was named Skirnir, and Njorth told Skirnir to ask Frey what the matter was. Then Skathi said:
“GET UP, SKIRNIR, and go ask our son to talk. Find out who it is who’s made him so angry.”
Skirnir said:
“I can expect only bad words from your son if I go and talk with him, if I go to ask him who it is who’s made him so angry.”
Skirnir said:
“Tell me, Frey, great among the gods, because I want to know— why are you sitting alone inside the hall all day long, my lord?”
Frey said:
“Why should I tell you my sorrow, young man? The sun shines all day long, but it does not soothe my longing.”
Skirnir said:
“Lord, I doubt that your longings are so great that you cannot tell me about them. The two of us were young together a long time ago; we can trust each other.”
Frey said:
“In Gymir’s yard I saw a beautiful woman walking. Her arms shone so bright, they reflected in all the air and sea.
“That woman means more to me than any woman has ever meant to any young man. But among the gods and elves, there is no one who would bless our marriage.”
Skirnir said:
“Give me a horse that will carry me through darkness and flame. And give me your sword that fights by itself against enemy giants.”
Frey said:
“I’ll give you a horse that will carry you through darkness and flame. And I’ll give you my sword that fights by itself (if it is carried by a wise man).”
Skirnir said to the horse:
“It is dark outside, time for us two to ride over dewy mountains, to rush beyond the homes of men. Either we both will come back, or the mighty giant will take us both.”
Skirnir rode to Gymir’s home in Jotunheim. There were fierce dogs chained up outside the fence that surrounded the hall where Gerth lived. Skirnir rode over to where a herder sat on a mound and said to him:
“Tell me, herdsman, sitting on that mound and watching all the roads, how can I get past Gymir’s dogs for a chance to talk with the young lady Gerth?”
The herdsman answered:
“Is this your death day, or are you already dead? You’ll never have a chance for a conversation with Gymir’s good daughter.”
Skirnir said:
“There’s always a better choice than cowardice, if you have business to take care of. One day long ago my life was already shaped, and my fate was fixed.”
Gerth said:
“What is this noise I’m hearing in our halls? The earth trembles and everything shakes in the home of Gymir.”
A serving-girl said:
“There is a man outside. He has stepped off his horse, and he’s letting it feed.”
Gerth said:
“Ask him to come inside, into our hall, and drink the splendid mead, though I fear that he may be the one who killed my brother.
“Are you of the Aesir, or the wise Vanir, or one of the elves, guest? Why have you come over the great flame to see our home?”
Skirnir said:
“I am no elf, nor one of the Aesir, nor one of the Vanir. Though I have come over the great flame to see your home.
“I have eleven apples, made all of gold— I will give them to you, Gerth, to buy your love, so that you will pledge to live happily with Frey.”
Gerth said:
“I would never accept eleven apples as the price of my love for any man, not even for Frey. I will never marry him so long as we live.”
Skirnir said:
“I will give you the ring that Odin placed on his young son’s funeral pyre. Eight just like it drop from it every ninth night.”
Gerth said:
“I would never accept that ring, even if Odin did place it on his young son’s funeral pyre. I have no lack of gold in the home of Gymir, to share with my father.”
Skirnir said:
“Do you see this sword, girl, this slender, pretty sword, which I have in my hand here? I will cut off your head from your neck unless you go along with me.”
Gerth said:
“I will never endure the threats of any man. And I think if Gymir finds you here, you brave men will come to blows.”
Skirnir said:
“Do you see this sword, girl, this slender, pretty sword, which I have in my hand here? Your old father will bend his knees beneath this blade; I’ll be the death of your father.
“I will beat you with a club till I tame you, girl, till you go along with my wishes. Then you’ll go to a place where no one will ever see you again.
“You will sit forever on an eagle’s nest, turned away from the world, looking in at Hel. Food will seem as awful to you as the Midgard-serpent seems to men.
“You will be laughed at when you emerge; a giant man will look at you. They’ll all stare at you. You’ll be better-known than Heimdall himself, staring out behind your gate.
“Foolishness and screaming! And pain, unendurable pain! May your tears grow with your sorrow! Sit down, and I will tell you some sad news, I’ll double your grief:
“Monsters will bend you over for the whole unhappy day in Jotunheim. You’ll crawl every day, without choice, without hope, to a hall of frost-trolls. You’ll weep and never be happy, your sorrows will make you cry.
“You’ll have a three-headed giant for your husband, or go without a husband. You’ll go crazy and rot with illness. You’ll be like a fat thistle ripped halfway off its stalk and left to dry.
“I went to a forest, to get a young tree branch, to find a magic wand there; I found a magic wand there.
“Odin will rage at you, Thor will rage at you, Frey will hate you, you evil girl! You have earned the hatred of the gods.
“Hear me, giants! Hear me, frost-trolls! Hear me, fire-trolls, hear me, gods! I curse this girl, I curse her never to know a man’s love, never to have a husband!
“Hrimgrimnir’s the name of the troll who will take you down below the gates of Hel. There, below the tree roots, servants will bring you goats’ urine to drink. You’ll never get anything better to drink, not if you want it, girl. Not even if I want it, girl.
“I curse you with that troll, and three other curses— sexual shame, and madness, and unbearable suffering. I’ve cursed you already, but I’ll call off the curses, if you give me good reason.”
Gerth said:
“Be welcome here, instead, and take this drinking-horn full of good ancient mead. Even if I previously said that I would never marry that god of the Vanir.”
Skirnir said:
“I want to know my errand’s complete before I ride away. Tell me when you’ll meet the noble son of Njorth— when will you come to comfort Frey?”
Gerth said:
“There’s a grove named Barri— we both know it— a peaceful place in the forest. After nine nights Frey, son of Njorth, will enjoy my love there.”
Then Skirnir rode home. Frey stood waiting for him and asked for the news:
“Tell me, Skirnir, before you unsaddle that horse, before you take one more step: What did you accomplish in Jotunheim for your or my purposes?”
Skirnir said:
“There’s a grove named Barri— we both know it— a peaceful place in the forest. After nine nights Frey, son of Njorth, will enjoy Gerth’s love there.”
Frey said:
“One night would be long enough, two would be worse— how can I contain my lust for three? A month has often seemed shorter to me than half such a marriage-night.”