arried it to his smithy and put it in
the furnace to be smelted. And Ilmarinen had not blown more than three
strokes of the bellows before the iron began to grow soft as dough. But
then Iron cried out to him, 'Take me from this furnace, Ilmarinen, save
me from this cruel torture!' for the heat of the fire had grown
unbearable.

'Thou art not hurt, but only a little frightened,' Ilmarinen replied;
'but I will take thee out, and thou shalt be a great warrior and slay
many heroes.'

But Iron swore by the hammer and anvil, 'I will injure trees and
mountains, but I'll never kill the heroes. I will be men's servant and
their tool, but will not serve for weapons.'

So Ilmarinen put the iron on his anvil, and made from it many fine
things and tools of every kind. But he could not harden the iron into
steel, though he pondered over it for a long time. He made a lye from
birch-ashes and water to harden the iron in, but it was all in vain.

Just then a little bee came flying up, and Ilmarinen begged him to bring
honey from all the flowers in the meadows, that he might put it in the
water and so harden the iron to steel. But a hornet, one of the servants
of the evil spirit Lempo, was sitting on the roof and overheard
Ilmarinen's words. And the hornet flew off and collected all the evil
charms he could find--the hissing of serpents, the venom of adders, the
poison of spiders, the stings of every insect--and brought them to
Ilmarinen. He thought that the bee had come and brought him honey from
the meadows, and so mixed all these poisons with the water in which he
was to plunge the iron. And when he thrust the iron into the poisoned
water it was turned to hard steel, but the poisons made it forget its
oath and grow hard-hearted, and it began to wound men and cause their
blood to flow in streams. This was the origin of steel and iron.

When Wainamoinen had finished, the old man rose from the hearth and
began an incantation to make the wound close up. First he cursed Iron
that it had become so wicked, and then he bade the blood cease to flow
by the power of his magic. And as he went on he prayed to great Ukko
that if this magic incantation should not prove sufficient, Ukko himself
would come and stop the wound.

By the time he had finished his words of magic the blood ceased flowing
from the wound. Then the old man sent his son to make a healing salve
out of herbs, to take away the soreness from Wainamoinen's knee.

First the yo