My Darling Gerðr,
From the first moment I saw you, an arrow pierced my heart. Now I am sick with love-longing; I can neither eat nor sleep. I am sure I will die if I cannot have you. Ah, how I rue the day I ventured into Odin’s watchtower to look out over the world, and saw you, venturing forth from your father’s house to fetch water. Your shining arms were gleaming with the brightness of the whole sea and sky! And yet, even this wound that pierces me would be sweet if you would be my wife. Please, my shining sun, my darling Gerðr, say it will be so! For though now it seems that no one among gods or elves will let us be together, a small ray of hope still glimmers in me: the thought that you, most gracious one, might have mercy on me and end my suffering by allowing me to take you in my arms.
This one who suffers with longing for you will remain forever,
Most Beautiful of All Maidens, Gerðr,
Your refusals cut me like a knife! I would make you ruler of the Elf-Realm at my side, a mistress of sacrifices, a companion of the god of fertility. You would daily receive offerings and prayers from the people of Middle-Earth. A maiden as beautiful and excellent as you deserves such worship! And yet you continue to reject me, when all I wish to do is elevate you beyond your station and place you on the throne that is rightfully yours! I know that you are a giantess, and I, a god, but a mere difference of race should never come between those whose hearts and bodies should rightfully be knit together as one.
I worship you, my darling, and beg that you will have mercy upon he who every day dies a little more without you,
The Suffering Frey
Most Gracious and Merciful Gerðr,
Please, my darling, do not be angry with my servant! He knows how much I suffer from lovesickness, that I will give everything I possess just for the chance to win you. I have freely given him my mighty sword, which fights on its own if the user is wise, in exchange only for his promise to speak a few words to you. The lack of this sword may mean my death, as now I have no weapon for Ragnarok. But such a small thing does not trouble me at all in comparison with the great pain I feel at your anger, and at the thought that you continue to refuse me. Skirnir may have threatened you with death and curses, but from me you will receive only sweet words of love, and endless caresses. My darling, I will make you a queen of the gods! He who grants pleasure and fertility to the people of Middle-Earth will give even more to his wife. Please, won’t you consent to be mine, and make me the happiest man in Asgard?
He who is devoted to you,
Blessed, Beautiful Gerðr,
My darling, do not toy with me! Can it really be true that you have consented to grant me my utmost desire, and become mine? Ah, how my heart leaps in anticipation of that moment, nine nights hence, in the Forest of Barri. What happiness will be ours then, when we will sail away together on my wondrous ship Skiðblaðnir for a honeymoon on the sea! And yet every day between now and the day when I mount my boar Gullinbursti and ride into your arms, is bitter to me. Long is one night, longer are two; How then shall I bear three? Often to me has a month seemed less than now half a night of desire! (Skirnismal, Stanza 43). And yet, my darling, I would wait a million years for the pleasure that now awaits me: my union with the most beautiful maiden in the world, she who shines as bright as the sun!
He whose thirst for love will soon be quenched,