In Three Parts.
As I have told you before, Bilskirner, the palace of Thor the
Strong-One, was built in his kingdom of Thrudvang, the realm that lay
beyond the thunder-clouds. It was the very largest palace that was ever
roofed over, for it had five hundred and forty halls beneath its silver
dome; and it was so dazzling bright that when people on earth caught a
glimpse of it through the clouds, they blinked and said they had seen
lightning. In a tremendous hall in the centre of it, Thor spent most of
his time when he was not away fighting giants or attending
assembly-meetings. There were benches all around the walls for his
followers; gleaming weapons hung above them; a fire blazed on the golden
hearth; and in the middle of the line of seats the Strong-One had his
splendid shining throne or high-seat.
One would have supposed that such a bright place would have been
difficult to sleep in, yet here every night, when the feasting was over,
the members of the household stretched themselves on the cushioned
benches and took their rest; and here, on this particular morning of
which I am going to tell you, they all lay sleeping soundly—perhaps even
snoring, if the truth were known. Thor leaned back in his high-seat, his
red beard tossed up and down by his deep breathing. Loki the Sly-One,
who was visiting him, sprawled unconscious among the cushions beside
him; even the fire was slumbering and only roused now and then to wink a
drowsy red eye down among the embers.
Amid all this peace and comfort, Thor’s bushy brows began to frown as
though a bad dream were troubling him. You know how proud he was of the
hammer that the dwarfs had made for him? He called it The Crusher
(Mjolner) because nothing could withstand a blow from it; and always
while he slept it stood on the floor leaning against the arm of his
seat, within easy reach of his hand. Now he dreamed that Thrym, the
giant king, had stolen it and borne it away to his stronghold.
He awoke with a start and sat up and looked about him. He was safe in
his own hall, surrounded by his own men. It was impossible that anything
could have happened. Yet—just to make sure—he put out his hand and felt
for The Crusher.
If you will believe me, it really was gone!
The Strong-One uttered such a shout that down on the earth people
thought they had heard a thunder-clap. His hair and his beard rose and
quivered like a million tiny flames. He bent over and shook the sleeping
Sly-One.
“Mark, now, Loki, what I say! What no one knows on earth or in high
heaven—my hammer is stolen!”
Loki was instantly awake. He was a very handsome youth and one of the
cleverest of all the mighty beings who lived above the clouds. Sometimes
he was more clever than honest, which is why I call him the Sly-One.
There came a time when he was so wicked that he brought a terrible
punishment upon himself. But just now his shrewdness was of great use to
Thor.
He answered as soon as he had heard about the dream, “It is likely that
you are right and that Thrym is the thief. But it would be unadvisable
for you to go to him. You are so fiery that you would kill him before
you had learned anything. I will borrow the feather-dress of Freyja the
Lovely and do the errand for you.”
“I should be very thankful to you,” said Thor.
Hastening out, they harnessed to the chariot
The-Goat-That-Gnashes-His-Teeth (Tanngnjost) and
The-Goat-That-Flashes-His-Teeth (Tanngrisner) and drove to Folkvang,
where Freyja’s immense palace (Sessrymner) stood. No mansion in the
upper world had so many seats for guests as hers; and she was as
generous as she was hospitable.
When Thor had told her why they had come, she answered with the sweetest
of smiles, “I would give you the dress gladly though it were of gold.
Though it were of silver, I would give it to you instantly.” And she
ordered her attendants to bring it at once from the chest in which it
was stored.
Though it was neither of gold nor of silver, yet it was very handsome.
It was made of the white and brown plumage of falcons and fitted Loki’s
graceful body like a glove.
“I only hope no one will think me such a pretty bird that he will catch
me and shut me in a cage,” the Sly-One laughed, rustling his feathers as
you have seen canaries do after a bath.
Then he spread his shining wings and flew out of the window, over the
world, on and on. By the time the goats had brought Thor back again to
Thrudvang, the magic pinions had carried Loki into the Land of the
Giants (Jotunheim).
It would almost seem as if Thrym were expecting him, for he had placed
himself where he was very easy to find—on a mound in front of the royal
cavern. There he sat sunning himself and braiding gold collars for his
greyhounds, while half a score of his horses nosed and browsed around
him. He was very, very large and very, very old. His long beard and hair
glittered like frost, and short glistening hairs grew all over his face
and his hands. When Loki alighted before him he did not seem in the
least surprised, but looked up with a wicked grin.
“How fare the mighty ones? How fare the elves? Why come you alone to
Jotunheim?” he asked.
Loki answered sternly, “Ill fare the mighty ones. Ill fare the elves.
Have you concealed the hammer of Thor?”
The giant’s grin broadened until the mouth looked like a wide crack
across his face. It was evident that he thought he had played a very
clever trick. He answered promptly, “I have concealed the hammer of Thor
eight lengths beneath the ground. No man brings it back unless he gives
me Freyja as my bride.”
Freyja the Lovely the bride of such a hoary old monster! Loki burst out
laughing. But the giant only turned his back upon him and began talking
to his horses and running his huge fingers through their snowy manes.
They were all of them as large as hail-clouds. It suddenly occurred to
Loki that if one of them should chance to step upon him, there would be
very little of him left.
There was nothing to do but carry the answer back to Thor. So again he
spread the shining wings, leaped into the air, and flew back over the
world to Thrudvang.