Weyland the Smith (aka Volandr, Welund, etc.) had an unusual background. Let’s start with his grandparents. His grandfather Wilkinus was a tough-minded man, much given to war and raiding. One such raid took him to Russia, where he met a beautiful woman in the forest. Wilkinus seduced her, and she became pregnant with his child. Wilkinus wasn’t much of the paternal type, though, and he quickly set sail back to his homeland (called Wilkinaland, if you can believe it). On his way back, though, his ship suddenly stopped. The sails were full and the ship strained but it did not move. His men looked overboard and were amazed to see a mermaid holding the ship’s bow in her hands, preventing it from moving. Wilkinus realized that this mermaid was the woman from the woods, and he reasoned with her, finally convincing her to let them sail the seas in peace. If she wanted anything, she could visit him in Wilkinaland. And so she did. Years later she brought him a boy named Wade, who was exceptionally large. Many even called him a giant. Wilkinus didn’t much like Wade, and he gave him some farms at the extent of his dominion and washed his hands of him.
Wade had three sons: Egil, Slagfinn, and Weyland. Not much is known about their mother, except that she was probably an Elf, since Weyland is one of the few Germanic/Norse mythological figures who is explicitly identified as an Elf. Despite his giant stature, Wade wasn’t a big believer in war, so he sent Weyland to learn the smithing arts from Mimir, the wise god who would later have his head chopped off in the war between the Aesir and the Vanir. But there was a problem with Mimir: he beat his apprentices. Ever the caring father, Wade brought Weyland home. Then he found him some new masters.
Weyland next learned the art of smithing from the dwarves of the mountain of Kallava. Originally, Wade paid a gold mark to each dwarf to teach his son smithing for a year. But the dwarves were amazed with Weyland’s skill and the things he could make that his father returned for him, they begged Wade to give them another year with the boy. They even returned the gold marks he had originally given them. So Wade agreed.
But things quickly began to sour. Weyland skill was so great that he became the dwarves’ masters, and they greatly resented him. When Wade the giant came to retrieve his son, he was killed in a suspicious rockslide. Weyland suspected he was next. So he took his father’s sword and he chopped all the dwarves’ heads off. Then he took all their money, gold, and jewelry and left. From there, Weyland build a glass-bottomed boat and escaped.
Weyland met up with his brothers, and they all lived together for a time. One day, they encountered three Valkyries bathing, weaving, and relaxing on the shore of the lake. The Valkyries were Swan-women, but they had taken their swan feathers off to relax. The three women and the three men formed an instant connection, and all paired off. For seven happy years they lived together. But Valkyries are not built for the domestic life, especially not Swan-maiden Valkyries. Then passed an unhappy year. And on the ninth year the women all left, eager to reclaim their role as Odin’s choosers of the slain.
Weyland’s brothers both left to find their spouses, but Weyland stayed behind, waiting for his wife to return. While he waited, he made incredible jewelry out of gold and precious metals. A distant king, Nithuth, heard of the great treasure that was kept at the estate of the three brothers, and sent a raiding party to capture it. They stole all the gold and took Weyland prisoner as a slave.
In the court of King Nithung, Weyland’s first duty was to set the table. He was in charge of all the knives and forks. But one unhappy day, he lost the king’s knife. So he went to the blacksmith and asked to borrow his tools. The blacksmith agreed and Weyland got to work. But Weyland’s skill at smithing was too great. The knife was too hard, and too strong. When the King tried to cut his bread, he accidentally sliced right through the breadboard and then through the table too. The King was astounded, and immediately asked who had made the knife. The King’s blacksmith tried to claim credit, but the King knew better. The King quickly guess that Weyland was the creator of this wonderous knife.
The King’s blacksmith didn’t care much for being shown up by Weyland. He constantly made trouble for Weyland and disparaged him throughout the King’s court. Eventually the two men decided that they should settle their differences with a smithing challenge. Since Weyland was a slave with nothing to bet, he bet his own head on the outcome. The King’s smith did the same. The contest was determined as follows: the King’s smith would make a helmet, and Weyland would make a sword. If the sword could cut through the helmet, the King’s smith would die. If it failed to do so, Weyland would be killed.
Now the King’s smith may have been a good blacksmith, but Weyland knew some special techniques. Dark, obscure techniques. First he made himself a sword. He tested it out and it worked great. But that wasn’t enough for Weyland. He took the sword home and filed it down to dust. Then he mixed the dust with flour and fed it to some geese. When the geese passed the dust, Weyland took the fine steel powder and made a truly magnificent sword out of it, and named it Mymming.
When it was time for the contest, the King’s smith sat arrogantly in a chair, wearing his finely-made helmet. He told Weyland he could his the helmet as hard as he wanted – he was confident the helmet would protect him. Weyland rested his blade on the helmet to prepare his strike. But when he moved the blade towards himself only slightly, the blade was so sharp it instantly cut through the helmet, through the man’s head, and through his body to the floor.
The King was amazed at the sword that Weyland had made. He demanded that Weyland give it to him. The King started to consider how much he could strengthen his own position with Weyland working for him. At the same time, he grew fearful when he thought about what Weyland could craft for his enemies if Weyland ever went away. So the King had Weyland brought before him, and told him that he would be his blacksmith for life. To make sure of it, the King had Weyland’s hamstrings cut, crippling him and making escape impossible.
And so Weyland, the crippled slave, did King Nithung’s bidding. But in the years that passed, he never turned his mind away from the thought of revenge. And when it came, Weyland’s wrath was terrible indeed. The King’s sons had the habit of visiting the smith to see what kinds of wonderous artifacts he would make. One day, Weyland invited them in, telling them he would teach them some of his secrets. When they came in, Weyland struck them down, killing both boys and cutting off their heads. Weyland burned off their flesh, keeping only their skeletons. While the King and Queen grieved the disappearance of their two sons, Weyland did his part to cheer them up by giving them ornate bowls, candlesticks, and knives. Unbeknownst to the royal couple, all of these items were crafted out of the bones of the two boys. He turned their eyes into jewels and their teeth into necklaces.
Some time after this, Weyland was able to send a letter to his brother Egil. Egil arrived in King Nithung’s court. Weyland and Egil pretended not to know each other. The King had heard that Egil was an outstanding marksman, so he set up a challenge for him. He made Egil’s 3-year-old son stand with an apple on his head, and he made Egil shoot an arrow through the apple. Egil was unhappy with the arrangement, but the king pressed him on. When Egil succeeded in making the unlikely shot, the King embraced him and brought him into his confidence.
Weyland asked his brother to bring him any feathers he found. And so he did. And Weyland got to work creating a fantastic bird suit. Having completed his task, Weyland finally decided to make his escape. He couldn’t walk, but now he could fly. So Weyland took off and flew around the King’s court. The King looked on in astonishment, and called out to Weyland, but Weyland only laughed and told the King how he had killed the King’s sons and served their skulls to him as soup bowls. Before he left, he had a final shock – Weyland had seduced the King’s daughter and she was now pregnant with his child. Then Weyland laughed and flew away. The King ordered Egil to shoot him down. Egil fired an arrow at Weyland, but he aimed it a special spot. Weyland had told his brother his plan, and had taken flight carrying a bag of blood with him. When Egil appeared to shoot Weyland, he actually only hit the blood bladder. And so Weyland got away, even as the King believed Weyland dead.
From there, Weyland went on to marry the sister of the King of Jutland. With her, he retired to a happy life, returning to his father’s estate. His legacy would cast a long shadow over medieval Europe, though. Most of the legendary swords of European myth are connected to Weyland in some ways, such as the magic sword Gram that Sigurd uses to kill the dragon Fafnir, or Roland’s sword Durandal with which he killed Saracen by the score, or the chainmail worn by Beowulf, or Merlin’s sword. Weyland’s son by King Nithung’s daughter, called Witege or Vidga, would go on to carve out his own name, wielding his father’s sword Mymming while serving as a knight of the legendary Didrik of Bern. But more than anything specific he produced, Weyland leaves a powerful legacy as the archetypical master craftsman, an amoral man in a violent world who reshapes his fate through the power of his work, rather than his strength as a warrior.
– A few thoughts from your friend Saxo