his face, “tell me truly, before you go, how you think your journey has
turned out, and whether or not I was right in saying that you would meet
with better men than yourself in Jötunheim.”
“I confess freely,” answered Asa Thor, looking up without any false
shame on his face, “that I have acquitted myself but humbly, and it
grieves me; for I know that in Jötunheim henceforward it will be said
that I am a man of little worth.”
“By my troth! no,” cried the giant, heartily. “Never should you have come
into my city if I had known what a mighty man of valor you really are;
and now that you are safely out of it, I will, for once, tell the truth
to you, Thor. All this time I have been deceiving you by my enchantments.
When you met me in the forest, and hurled Miölnir at my head, I should
have been crushed by the weight of your blows had I not skilfully placed
a mountain between myself and you, on which the strokes of your hammer
fell, and where you cleft three deep ravines, which shall henceforth
become verdant valleys. In the same manner I deceived you about the
contests in which you engaged last night. When Loki and Logi sat down
before the trough, Loki, indeed, ate like hunger itself; but Logi is
fire, who, with eager, consuming tongue, licked up both bones and trough.
Thialfi is the swiftest of mortal runners; but the slender lad, Hugi,
was my thought; and what speed can ever equal his? So it was in your own
trials. When you took such deep draughts from the horn, you little knew
what a wonderful feat you were performing. The other end of that horn
reached the ocean, and when you come to the shore you will see how far
its waters have fallen away, and how much the deep sea itself has been
diminished by your draught. Hereafter, men watching the going out of the
tide will call it the ebb, or draught of Thor.
“Scarcely less wonderful was the prowess you displayed in the second
trial. What appeared to you to be a cat, was, in reality, the Midgard
serpent, which encircles the world. When we saw you succeed in moving it
we trembled lest the very foundations of earth and sea should be shaken
by your strength. Nor need you be ashamed of having been overthrown by
the old woman Elli, for she is old age; and there never has, and never
will be, one whom she has not the power to lay low. We must now part, and
you had better not come here again, or attempt anything further against
my city; for I shall always defend it by fresh enchantments, and you will
never be able to do anything against me.”
At these words Thor raised Miölnir, and was about to challenge the giant
to a fresh trial of strength; but, before he could speak, Utgard vanished
from his sight; and, turning round to look for the city, he found that
it, too, had disappeared, and that he was standing alone on a smooth,
green, empty plain.
“What a fool I have been,” said Asa Thor, aloud, “to allow myself to be
deceived by a mountain giant!”
“Ah!” answered a voice from above, “I told you, you would learn to know
yourself better by your journey to Jötunheim. It is the great use of
travelling.”
Thor turned quickly round again, thinking to see Skrymir behind him; but,
after looking on every side, he could perceive nothing, but that a high,
cloud-capped mountain, which he had noticed on the horizon, appeared to
have advanced to the edge of the plain.
[1] Ving-Thor—Winged-Thor.
HOW THOR’S HAMMER WAS LOST AND FOUND
By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton
Most precious in the eyes of Thor was his magic hammer, Miölnir, of which
even the mighty Frost Giants stood in dread.
Always he laid it by his side when he went to rest, and always it was
the first thing for which his hand was outstretched when he awoke. Judge
then of his horror and dismay when, on opening his eyes one morning, the
hammer was nowhere to be seen.
Starting up with a roar of rage, Thor commenced to search everywhere
for the missing weapon. Up and down his wonderful palace, built of the
thunder clouds, he tramped, with a noise that shook the whole city of
Asgard. But the hammer was not to be found.
Then he called upon golden-haired Sif, his wife, and bade her help in the
search; and still the hammer was nowhere to be seen. It was clear that
someone must have stolen it, and, when he realized this, Thor’s wrath
broke all bounds. His bristling red hair and beard stood up on end, and
from them flew a whole volley of fiery sparks.
Presently, as the angry Asa was shaking the palace with his thunderous
voice, Red Loki came along to inquire into the trouble. He was not likely
to sympathize with Thor, but, always brimful of curiosity, he loved to
have a part in everything that happened.
“What’s the matter, Asa Thor?” said he; and Thor replied, lowering his
voice as he spoke, for he did not want his loss to be too widely known:
“Now listen to what I tell thee, Loki—’tis a thing which is known neither
on earth below nor in heaven above. My hammer’s gone.”
This news was most interesting to Loki, who had long owed Thor a grudge,
which he was afraid to pay openly. “Ho, ho!” said he. “Then shall we soon
have the giants turning us out of Asgard, brother Thor.”
“Not if you use your wits as you know how,” growled Thor, still in a very
bad temper. “Come, you call yourself a clever fellow. Find out for me who
has robbed me of my thunderbolt, my hammer, my Miölnir.”
Then Loki gave a grin and a wink, and promised to do what he could—not
because he cared for Thor, but because he loved to be of importance, and
was, moreover, really frightened as to what might happen to Asgard if the
magic hammer was not at hand.
It was not long before he noticed that an extraordinary kind of tempest
was raging in the regions below—not an orderly kind of tempest, with
first some thunder, and then some rain, and then a gust of wind or
two, such as Thor was wont to arrange, but a mixture of hail and wind
and thunder and lightning and rain and snow, all raging together in a
tremendous muddle, so that the earth folk thought the end of the world
was come.
This gave Loki a hint, and he began to peer about between the clouds,
until at length he saw that the trouble was coming from a certain hill
which stood in the center of Giantland.
Now on the top of this hill lived a certain Thrym, prince of the Frost
Giants, who for a long time past had been very envious of the might of
Thor. He had, indeed, done his best to imitate him as far as he could,
and had managed to get up a very good imitation of lightning and hail and
rain; but he had not been able to manage the thunderbolts, for they could
only be made by means of Thor’s hammer, Miölnir.
All this was well known to Red Loki, and he was therefore not at all
surprised to find that, somehow or other, Thrym must have got hold of the
magic weapon; for here were thunderbolts crashing about the earth and sky
at a terrible rate.
When informed of the discovery, Thor flew into a still more tremendous
rage, and wanted to rush off at once to try conclusions with the giant.
But Loki, who loved rather to get a thing by trickery and deceit,
persuaded him that violence would never do.
“Remember,” said he, “that Thrym _with_ the hammer is much stronger than
Thor without it. This is a matter which must be managed by clever wit and
craft, not by force and loud talking. Leave therefore the whole matter to
me.”
To this Thor very reluctantly agreed.
Then Loki bethought him of some disguise wherein he might visit Giantland
in safety, for he was not at all anxious to risk his life. He betook
himself to the House of Maidens, over which ruled Freya, fairest of all
in Asgard, she who was wont to shake the spring flowers from her golden
locks as she passed over the frozen uplands, leaving behind her a region
of green and smiling beauty. Loki found the goddess, and begged the loan
of her magic falcon plumes, in which she was wont to flit to and fro over
the earth; and when she learnt for what purpose he needed them she gladly
assented.
Then Loki took the appearance of a great brown bird, and spreading his
wings he flew away toward Giantland.
It was a long journey, as he already knew, and, although the tempest had
now ceased to rage, he found the country of the giants darker and colder
and drearier than ever.
The longest journey comes to an end, and at length Loki reached a
mountain where sat the Giant Thrym, his huge legs dangling to the ground,
playing with a puppy as large as an elephant.
Perching as near as he dared, Loki gazed at the giant with his bright,
round eyes, and was wondering how to begin, when Thrym, who, at a glance,
had seen completely through his disguise, said calmly, in a voice as much
as possible like Thor’s thunderous roar: “Oh, ho! Loki, what are you
doing so far from Asgard? Are you not afraid, little fellow as you are,
to venture alone into our country?”
Then Loki, thinking to win his way by flattery, replied: “Sad indeed is
it in Asgard, now that Miölnir has vanished. Clever was that one who
spirited it away from the very side of Thor. Methinks none but you could
have done it, O mighty Thrym!”
Pleased with the compliment to his cleverness the giant chuckled before
admitting: “Ay, Loki, the hammer is mine, ’tis very true; and now men
will know who really is the Thunderer.”
“Ah well!” sighed cunning Loki, “some men are strong by reason of their
weapons, and some are just as strong without. Small need have you, O
mighty Thrym, for hammers, but Thor is naught without it. Yet, since all
the world knows that you are his master, let him have his plaything back,
that we may cease to be troubled by his peevish outcry.”
But though Thrym was as stupid as he was big, he was not to be caught
thus.
“No, no, my little Loki,” he said. “Mine is the hammer, and deep have I
buried it beneath the bottom of the sea. Go, tell this to your Asa folk,
and say to them that I will give it back on one condition only—and that
is, that they send me Freya, that fairest of maidens, to be my wife.”
At this suggestion Loki could scarcely keep from laughing, for the idea
of sending the beautiful Freya, the joy and delight of Asgard, to be the
wife of this ill-favored Frost Giant was too absurd for words.
It was not much to him, however, what happened to anyone except himself,
so he hastened to reply: “Be sure, O Thrym, that everything I can do to
further the matter shall be done. And if Freya is of the same mind as I
you will soon be welcoming that most sweet maiden to Giantland—farewell!”
So saying, he spread his brown wings and flew back to Asgard, delighted
to think of the mischief he could now set brewing.
First of all he visited Thor, and told him of what had passed. And the
Thunderer, when he heard of Thrym’s boastful words, was filled with wild
wrath and wanted to start off, then and there, and wrest the hammer from
the depths of the sea. But Loki pointed out the difficulties that stood
in the way and, leaving the Asa to ponder over his words, he hurried off
to Freya and informed her of Thrym’s proposal.
The beautiful Freya was walking in her garden, and round her neck she
wore her famous necklet of stars. When she heard Loki’s suggestion that
she should wed a hideous giant she fell into such a rage that she broke
her necklet, and all the stars went falling through the sky, so that men
cried:
“See how the stars are shooting!”
Meantime the Asa folk had met together to consider all that had happened,
and, having calmed the fury of Thor, they pointed out to him that Asgard
stood in the gravest danger of an attack which would find them quite
unprotected. When they had said this several times over, Thor began to
weary of the subject, and he replied with great surliness: “Very well,
then. Let Freya go to Thrym as his wife, and then shall we be as before,
with Miölnir to defend us.”
When Freya heard this, her rage turned to tears and lamentations, and she
declared that it would be death to her to send her to the gloomy halls of
Giantland, whence she could never hope to revisit the flowery meads and
grassy slopes of Asgard. And the Asas, unable to bear the sight of her
grief, with one voice declared that they would never spare her from the
Home of Bliss.
Then there stepped forward Heimdall, the watchman who sits on guard over
the Rainbow Bridge by night and day.
Now Heimdall had the gift of seeing into the future, and the Asas were
always ready to hear his words, well knowing them to be wise.
“My plan is this,” said he. “Let Thor borrow the clothes of Freya and put
a thick veil over his face; and let him go thus to Thrym’s castle and
pass for his bride. And if he cannot by some means manage to get hold of
the hammer when he is there—why, he must give it up altogether.”
At this suggestion the Asas clapped their hands with approval—all,
indeed, save Thor, who looked most glum, and was extremely unwilling to
agree to the plan.
“Dress me as a bride!” he grumbled. “A pretty maiden I shall make. Ready
enough am I to fight, but I will not make myself a laughing-stock if I
know it.”
But the Asas besought him to give way, while Loki twitted him with
cowardice. Fair Freya, too, appealed with tearful eyes; and so at length,
with great reluctance, the Thunderer agreed to do what they wished.
Fortunately the maiden Freya was very tall, but even so it was with some
difficulty that they managed to cover the burly form of Thor with her
robes.
He insisted, moreover, upon wearing his own shirt of mail and his girdle
of strength; and these took much drapery to hide. Great was the laughter
in the halls of Asgard that night as the Battle Maidens brushed and
curled Thor’s long yellow hair, and set a jewelled headdress upon it;
and finally, when the maidens proceeded to cover up his thick heard and
angry eyes with a silken veil, the mirth of the Asas was unrestrained. To
complete the disguise the maidens hung round his neck the famous necklet,
which had now been re-strung, and finally Frigga, the wife of All-Father
Odin, secured at his girdle the great bunch of keys proper to brides at a
wedding in the Northland.
While this was being done, Loki, more than all, had been convulsed with
merriment at the success of his mischief-making. The very sight of Thor’s
disgusted looks, and of his great hands clenched with rage under the
delicate veil, nearly killed him with laughter; and when all was ready he
declared himself unable to lose an atom of the fun in store.
“Let me go with you,” he implored. “See, I will dress myself as your
hand-maiden. Ah, you had better agree, for without me to prompt you, you
will never play your part.”
So Loki was dressed as a waiting-maid, and took his seat very demurely
by the side of Thor in the goat-car. Loud was the laughter in Asgard
as the Asas watched the two drive off together and heard the roar of
the Thunderer’s voice issuing from the folds of a meek maiden’s veil as
he urged his goats upon their course. Long and stormy was that ride to
Giantland, for Thor was still in the worst of tempers, and drove his
chariot so furiously that
“The mountains crashed
The earth stood in flames,”
as the hoofs of the goats clattered over mountains and waters, striking
sparks wherever they touched a rock.
Thrym was much overjoyed when he heard that a chariot containing the two
maidens was approaching his door. Away ran his servants in different
directions, some with orders to make ready a grand banquet, some to
prepare the chamber of the brides some to receive her at the door.
The giant himself assisted them to alight, and looked with admiration at
the stately figure of his bride; but he made no attempt to see her face,
since it is the custom in the Northland for the bride to remain veiled
until the marriage has been completed.
“A bride worthy of a giant!” murmured his servants, as he led her to a
lofty seat beside his own great throne of gold; and they looked with
approval also on the buxom form of the waiting-maid, who stood, closely
veiled, behind her mistress’s chair.
Now the journey had been long and cold, and it was with joy that the
new-comers noticed that the preparations for the banquet were complete,
for they were exceedingly hungry.
The giants are huge eaters, and they gathered round the board whereon
were displayed an enormous ox roasted whole, a vast dish of salmon and
various other dainties. But because the bride was a woman, and modest
withal, they brought her tiny morsels on a dainty golden plate.
This was too much for Thor, who had always possessed a most healthy
appetite, and was now more than usually ready for his supper. Gradually
drawing nearer to the table, while the others were busy with the meal, he
managed to get hold of the dish of roasted ox, and within a few minutes
the whole of the animal had disappeared.
Then he put out his hand to the platter of salmon, and in eight mouthfuls
disposed of eight of the great fish. After this he noticed a large plate
full of cakes and sweetmeats, which was set apart for the ladies of the
party. Of these, too, he made short work.
Finally, feeling thirsty after his huge meal, he took up two barrels of
mead, and tossed them off, one after another, down his capacious throat.
Then he sat back on his chair with a sigh of deep content.
These proceedings had been watched by Loki with uneasiness, but by Thrym
with open-mouthed dismay. Was this the usual appetite of this dainty
maiden, who had eaten more than the company of giants? But Loki bent
toward him and whispered in his ear that the thought of marrying had
so excited Freya that she had eaten nothing for eight days, and had
therefore been on the point of starvation.
This reassured the giant, and being now himself filled with mead he drew
nearer and, lifting a corner of the veil, tried to kiss the cheek of his
future bride.
But Thor, who was longing to be at close grips with him, threw him such
a fiery glance that he drew quickly back, saying: “Why does fair Freya’s
eye burn like a spark from a furnace?” “Pooh!” whispered Loki again,
“that is nothing but her love for you, which for eight days has raged
like a flaming fire.”
This news was still more pleasant to hear, and Thrym, in high good humor,
cried: “Bring in the hammer, my wedding gift, wherewith to plight the
maid. For when I have laid it on her lap she will be my own forever, and
together we will work dire evil against the Asa folk, whom I hate with
all my heart.”
What was that unmaidenly sound that issued from under the silken veil at
these words? But though Loki turned pale to hear it, Thrym, busy sending
for the hammer, did not pay any heed.
Back came the giant’s servants at length, bending under the weight of
Miölnir. And as they bowed before the silent maiden, sitting with meekly
bent head upon the throne, Thrym cried with a merry jest: “See, here is
little Thor’s tiny plaything—a pretty toy truly for his feeble hands.
Take it, fair Freya, as my wedding gift.”
“And take _that_ as mine!” roared Thor, in a voice of thunder, as he
flung off the veil and rose to his full height. And with the words he
swung the hammer once—and ere the eye could follow its movement, it had
crashed through Thrym’s skull, and had knocked over a round dozen of his
guests. Yet again did it swing in the Asa’s hand, and this time it left
not a giant standing in the hall.
A third time it was swung, and on this occasion the roof and walls of
the palace came tumbling on every side, and only Thor and Loki were left
alive amid the ruins.
“Ha! ha!” laughed Red Loki, “that was neatly done, fair Freya.”
Thor, who was now busily tearing off the hated robes and veil, stayed to
look threateningly at his companion. “No more of that, Loki,” said he,
“the thing had to be done, ’tis true, but talk not to me again of this
woman’s work. We will remember only that I am the Thunderer, and that my
hammer that was lost is found.”
So they drove back peacefully to Asgard.
And this is the end of the tale of How Thor’s Hammer was lost and found.
IDUNA’S APPLES OF YOUTH
By A. and E. Keary
I. REFLECTIONS IN THE WATER
Of all the groves and gardens round the city of Asgard—and they were
many and beautiful—there was none so beautiful as the one where Iduna,
the wife of Bragi, lived. It stood on the south side of the hill, not
far from Gladsheim, and it was called “Always Young,” because nothing
that grew there could ever decay, or become the least bit older than it
was on the day when Iduna entered it. The trees wore always a tender,
light green color, as the hedges do in spring. The flowers were mostly
half-opened, and every blade of grass bore always a trembling, glittering
drop of early dew. Brisk little winds wandered about the grove, making
the leaves dance from morning till night and swaying backwards and
forwards the heads of the flowers.
“Blow away!” said the leaves to the wind, “for we shall never be tired.”
“And you will never be old,” said the winds in answer. And then the birds
took up the chorus and sang:
“Never tired and never old.”
Iduna, the mistress of the grove, was fit to live among young birds,
and tender leaves, and spring flowers. She was so fair that when she
bent over the river to entice her swans to come to her, even the stupid
fish stood still in the water, afraid to destroy so beautiful an image
by swimming over it; and when she held out her hand with bread for the
swans to eat, you would not have known it from a water-lily—it was so
wonderfully white.
Iduna never left her grove even to pay a visit to her nearest neighbor,
and yet she did not lead by any means a dull life; for, besides having
the company of her husband, Bragi, who must have been an entertaining
person to live with (for he is said to have known a story which never
came to an end, and yet which never grew wearisome), all the heroes of
Asgard made a point of coming to call upon her every day. It was natural
enough that they should like to visit so beautiful a grove and so fair a
lady; and yet, to confess the truth, it was not quite to see either the
grove or Iduna that they came.
Iduna herself was well aware of this, and when her visitors had chatted
a short time with her, she never failed to bring out from the innermost
recess of her bower a certain golden casket, and to request as a favor,
that her guests would not think of going away till they had tasted her
apples, which, she flattered herself, had a better flavor than any other
fruit in the world.
It would have been quite unlike a hero of Asgard to have refused such
courtesy; and, besides, Iduna was not as far wrong about her apples as
hostesses generally are, when they boast of the good things on their
tables.
There is no doubt her apples _had_ a peculiar flavor; and if any one of
the heroes happened to be a little tired, or a little out of spirits,
or a little cross, when they came into the bower, it always followed
that, as soon as he had eaten one apple, he found himself as fresh, and
vigorous, and happy as he had ever been in his life.
So fond were the heroes of these apples, and so necessary did they think
them to their daily comfort, that they never went on a journey without
requesting Iduna to give them one or two, to fortify them against the
fatigues of the way.
Iduna had no difficulty in complying with this request; she had no fear
of her store ever failing, for as surely as she took an apple from
her casket another fell in; but where it came from Iduna could never
discover. She never saw it till it was close to the bottom of the casket;
but she always heard the sweet tinkling sound it made when it touched the
golden rim. It was as good as play to stand by her casket, taking the
apples out, and watching the fresh rosy ones come tumbling in, without
knowing who threw them.
One spring morning Iduna was very busy taking apples out of her casket;
for several of the heroes were taking advantage of the fine weather to
journey out into the world. Bragi was going from home for a time; perhaps
he was tired of telling his story only to Iduna, and perhaps she was
beginning to know it by heart; and Odin, Loki, and Hœnir had agreed to
take a little tour in the direction of Jötunheim, just to see if any
entertaining adventure would befall them. When they had all received
their apples, and taken a tender farewell of Iduna, the grove—green and
fair as it was—looked, perhaps, a little solitary.