The Prose Edda 2.42

"Why is gold called Fródi's Meal? This is the tale thereof: One of Odin's sons, named Skjöldr,—from whom the Skjöldungs are come,—had his abode and ruled in the realm which now is called Denmark, but then was known as Gotland. Skjöldr's son, who ruled the land after him, was named Fridleifr. Fridleifr's son was Fródi: he succeeded to the kingdom after his father, in the time when Augustus Caesar imposed peace on all the world; at that time Christ was born. But because Fródi was mightiest of all kings in the Northern lands, the peace was called by his name wherever the Danish tongue was spoken; and men call it the Peace of Fródi. No man injured any other, even though he met face to face his father's slayer or his brother's, loose or bound. Neither was there any thief nor robber then, so that a gold ring lay long on Jalangr's Heath. King Fródi went to a feast in Sweden at the court of the king who was called Fjölnir, and there he bought two maid-servants, Fenja and Menja: they were huge and strong. In that time two mill-stones were found in Denmark, so great that no one was so strong that he could turn them: the nature of the mill was such that whatsoever he who turned asked for, was ground out by the mill-stones. This mill was called Grótti. He who gave King Fródi the mill was named Hengikjöptr. King Fródi had the maid-servants led to the mill, and bade them grind gold; and they did so. First they ground gold and, peace and happiness for Fródi; then he would grant them rest or sleep no longer than the cuckoo held its peace or a song might be sung. It is said that they sang the song which is called the Lay of Grótti, and this is its beginning:

Now are we come To the king's house, The two fore-knowing, Fenja and Menja: These are with Fródi Son of Fridleifr, The Mighty Maidens, As maid-thralls held.

And before they ceased their singing, they ground out a host against Fródi, so that the sea-king called Mýsingr came there that same night and slew Fródi, taking much plunder. Then the Peace of Fródi was ended. Mýsingr took Grótti with him, and Fenja and Menja also, and bade them grind salt. And at midnight they asked whether Mýsingr were not weary of salt. He bade them grind longer. They had ground but a little while, when down sank the ship; and from that time there has been a whirlpool the sea where the water falls through the hole in the mill-stone. It was then that the sea became salt.

["The lay of Grótti:

They to the flour-mill Were led, those maidens, And bidden tirelessly To turn the gray mill-stone: He promised to neither Peace nor surcease Till he had heard The handmaids' singing.

They chanted the song Of the ceaseless mill-stone: 'Lay we the bins right, Lift we the stones!' He urged the maidens To grind on ever.

They sung and slung The whirling stone Till the men of Fródi For the most part slept; Then spake Menja, To the mill coming:

'Wealth grind we for Fródi, We grind it in plenty, Fullness of fee At the mill of fortune: Let him sit on riches And sleep on down; Let him wake in weal: Then well 't is ground.

Here may no one Harm another, Contrive evil, Nor cast wiles for slaying, Nor slaughter any With sword well sharpened, Though his brother's slayer In bonds he find.'

But he spake no word Save only this: 'Sleep ye no longer Than the hall-cuckoo's silence, Nor longer than so, While one song is sung.'

'Thou wast not, Fródi, Full in wisdom, Thou friend of men, When thou boughtest the maidens: Didst choose for strength And outward seeming; But of their kindred Didst not inquire.

'Hardy was Hrungnir, And his father; Yet was Thjazi Than they more mighty: Idi and Aurnir Of us twain are kinsmen,— Brothers of Hill-Giants, Of them were we born.

'Grótti had not come From the gray mountain, Nor the hard boulder From the earth's bosom, Nor thus would grind The Hill-Giants' maiden, If any had known The news of her.

'We nine winters Were playmates together, Mighty of stature, 'Neath the earth's surface, The maids had part In mighty works: Ourselves we moved Mighty rocks from their place.

'We rolled the rock O'er the Giants' roof-stead, So that the ground, Quaking, gave before us;

So slung we The whirling stone, The mighty boulder, Till men took it.

'And soon after In Sweden's realm, We twain fore-knowing Strode to the fighting; Bears we hunted, And shields we broke; We strode through The gray-mailed spear-host.

We cast down a king, We crowned another; To Gotthormr good We gave assistance; No quiet was there Ere Knúi fell.

'This course we held Those years continuous, That we were known For warriors mighty; There with sharp spears Wounds we scored, Let blood from wounds, And reddened the brand.

'Now are we come To the king's abode Of mercy bereft And held as bond-maids; Clay eats our foot-soles, Cold chills us above; We turn the Peace-Grinder: 'T is gloomy at Fródi's.

'Hands must rest, The stone must halt; Enough have I turned, My toil ceases: Now may the hands Have no remission Till Fródi hold The meal ground fully.

'The hands should hold The hard shafts, The weapons gore-stained,— Wake thou, Fródi! Wake thou, Fródi, If thou wouldst hearken To the songs of us twain And to ancient stories.

'Fire I see burning East of the burg, War-tidings waken, A beacon of warning: A host shall come Hither, with swiftness, And fire the dwellings Above King Fródi.

'Thou shalt not hold The stead of Hleidr, The red gold rings Nor the gods' holy altar; We grasp the handle, Maiden, more hardly,— We were not warmer In the wound-gore of corpses.

'My father's maid Mightily ground For she saw the feyness Of men full many; The sturdy posts From the flour-box started, Made staunch with iron. Grind we yet swifter.

'Grind we yet swifter! The son of Yrsa, Hálfdanr's kinsman, Shall come with vengeance On Fródi's head: Him shall men call Yrsa's son and brother. We both know that.'

The maidens ground, Their might they tested, Young and fresh In giant-frenzy: The bin-poles trembled, And burst the flour-box; In sunder burst The heavy boulder.

And the sturdy bride Of Hill-Giants spake: 'We have ground, O Fródi! Soon we cease from grinding; The women have labored O'er long at the grist.'

Thus sang Einarr Skúlason:

I have heard that Fródi's hand-maids Ground in the mill full gladly The Serpent's Couch; with gold-meal The king lets peace be broken: The fair cheeks of my axe-head, Fitted with maple, show forth Fenja's Grist; exalted Is the skald with the good king's riches.

So sang Egill:

Glad are full many men In Fródi's meal.]