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the poets who sang the deeds of the gods and the heroes at the feasting, and who told tales of war and the adventure during the long winter evenings where men had to stay home. this is the story of the beginning of poetry

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in the early ages of the world a argument begun between the Aesir and the Vanir. When they settled the argument they both spat into a golden vessel and from their spit arose a wise man called "Kvasir" and there wasn't a question he couldn't answer, and he used that power to help people

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when the son of Kvasir found out what the dwarves did to his parents he ceased them and took them out on low tide to threaten to kill them but they pleaded, wanting to give him the mead made from his father's blood, he agreed and they went back to shore, then the son went to hide the mead in a cave garden by his daughter

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Odin then went to Baugi’s door and introduced himself as Bölverkr, He offered to do the work of the nine servants who had, as he told it, so basely killed each other in a dispute in the field earlier that day. As his reward, he demanded a sip of Suttung’s mead. Baugi responded that he had no control of the mead and that Suttung guarded it jealousy, but that if Bölverkr could truly perform the work of nine men, he would help the apparent farmhand to obtain his desire.

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Odin thanked baugi for his help, shape shifted a snake, and crawled into the hole. baugi stabbed after him with the auger, but odin made it through just in time. once inside, he took the form of a charming young man and made his way to where gunnlod guarded the mead. He won her favor and secured a promise from her that, if he would sleep with her for three nights, she would grant him three sips of the mead. After the third night, Odin went to the mead, which was in three vats, and consumed the contents of each vat in a single draught.

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As Odin came to the containers, he regurgitated the mead into them. As he did so, however, a few drops fell from his beak to midgard, the world of humankind, below. These drops are the source of the abilities of all bad poets, But the true poets are those to whom Odin dispenses his mead personally and with care.