A Viking's love: and other tales of the North

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.

II

Although he was not long kept waiting, Thor had time to imagine all sorts of unpleasant things—even to fancy that perhaps the Sly-One was playing another of his tricks and would not return at all. The instant Loki in the feather-dress appeared upon the threshold, he called out sternly:

“Have you succeeded in doing your errand? Then give me the message before you sit down. What one tells after he has had time to sit down and think up fibs, is often of little value.”

As Loki happened to be acting honestly for once, he felt somewhat aggrieved at this.

“Well have I succeeded in doing my errand,” he answered; “Thrym the King of Giants has your hammer. No man brings it back unless he gives him Freyja as bride.”

Thor snorted so that his red beard streamed far out, and down on the earth people thought they had seen the fiery northern lights streak across the sky.

“Is it to win her that he has made all this trouble? Ride we to Freyja without delay.”

They mounted the chariot, and in an astonishingly short time the lightning-swift goats had drawn them to Folkvang.

Freyja the Lovely sat in her high-seat playing with her wonderful necklace, whose beads sparkled and flashed like water-drops in the sun. When she heard wheels, she guessed that the Strong-One was approaching and came out into the courtyard to meet him.

“I give you good greeting,” she said, smiling kindly as Loki flew to her and dropped the feather-dress at her feet.

But she did not smile so sweetly when Thor had reined in the goats before her and told her of the giant’s demand.

“Dress yourself, Freyja, in bridal robes,” he finished, “together we will ride to Jotunheim.”

The Lovely One straightened up so quickly that her hand caught in her necklace and broke it into a shower of sparkling balls.

“Sooner will I die than put on bridal robes for such a monster,” she declared.

The Strong-One looked at her in surprise. The hammer was so important to him and to them all that he thought any one ought to be willing to do anything to recover it.

“It is likely that you will die if I do not get The Crusher back,” he said at last. “If the giants should invade the sky, I would have nothing to fight them with and they could get the victory over us.”

Freyja answered nothing whatever, but she put back her beautiful shining hair from her beautiful rosy face and looked at him sorrowfully. All at once it occurred to Thor that she was much too lovely to be given to such a wicked old creature. He made only one more very faint attempt.

“I am told for certain that Thrym has got great riches,” he said, “he has a herd of all-black oxen and all his cows have gold horns.”

Then Freyja stamped her foot.

“I would be a love-sick maid indeed if with you I would ride to Jotunheim!” she said severely. And with that she left them and ran into the house—and I am not sure that she did not close the door pretty hard behind her.

Thor scratched his head thoughtfully.

“Much goes worse than is expected,” he said at last. “We will see now what advice my kinsmen have to offer.”

Again he puffed and snorted so that the trees on the earth below were stirred and swayed as by a rushing wind.

“Certainly there is going to be a great storm,” the earth-people said to each other. And as they heard the chariot-wheels rumbling along above the clouds, they added, “Hark! Do you hear the thunder?”

They must have thought it a very long storm for before he stopped, Thor had driven to almost every palace in the sky. Odin the All-wise Ruler, Balder the Bright, and Heimdal the White One, Tyr, Brage, Vale—he visited each of them. Soon they were all gathered together at their meeting-place on the plains of Ida.

They consulted long and earnestly. At last Heimdal the White One, who had the gift of fore-knowledge, gave them this counsel:

“It is my advice that we play a trick upon the King of the Giants and allow him to believe that we have done as he asked. We will dress Thor in bridal robes and send him to Thrym.”

At this, loud laughter went up from the others. You remember that Thor was not only stronger than any man on earth, but he was also mightier than any being in the sky. Imagine dressing him up for a beautiful graceful woman!

“That is cleverly devised!” cried Loki. “With a bridal veil will we hide the red beard, and Thrym shall not know him until the Strong-One has got his hand on his hammer. Then will he know him to his sorrow!”

They all laughed again; but the mighty Thor frowned angrily.

“Never will I submit to it,” he growled. “Every living thing would mock at me, should I go dressed in bridal robes.”

Perhaps Loki wished to revenge himself on the Strong-One for having spoken so sternly to him when he first brought the message from Jotunheim. Now in his turn he said sternly:

“Be silent, Thor. Stop such talk. Soon will the giants build in the sky if you do not bring your hammer back.”

Because he knew this to be true, Thor could say nothing more. He stood frowning and stamping and growling in his beard while they brought Freyja’s jewels and her beautiful robes to dress him in.

They put on him a very long gown that trailed about his feet so that he was certain that it would trip him up when he should try to walk. They hung sparkling necklaces around his neck, and placed a bunch of jingling keys at his belt to show that he was a good house-keeper. Broad gold brooches they pinned on his breast, and then they braided his red-gold hair into two beautiful wavy braids.

How the Mighty-One did stamp and fume at all this! And how the others laughed at him! The more they laughed, the angrier he grew—and the angrier he became, the funnier he looked in his bridal robes. The whole vault of the sky echoed and re-echoed with their mirth.

At last he was all dressed and they dropped the bridal veil over his furious face.

Then Loki said, with a slim grimace, that such a lovely bride could not be allowed to travel without at least one serving-maid. So he took the dress of one of Freyja’s attendants and put it on himself. As he was young and handsome and with no more beard than either you or I, he made a very pretty waiting-damsel.

He got into the chariot beside Thor, the lightning-swift goats were hitched to the car, and away they went to Jotunheim.

III

The chariot-wheels rumbled like thunder. The-Goat-That-Gnashes-His-Teeth and The-Goat-That-Flashes-His-Teeth struck out fiery sparks from their gold-shod hoofs. So came Loki and the Strong-One into Jotunheim.

While they were yet a long way off, Thrym heard them coming and laughed exultantly.

he sang; then he called out to his followers, “Giants, arise and spread the embroidered cloths over the benches. Freyja comes to be my bride.”

The servants tumbled over each other in wild excitement. Some covered the seats and the walls with embroidered tapestries. Some strewed fresh straw upon the floor. Others scoured the shields and brought in the tables and set forth the massive golden dishes.

Just as twilight was falling, the chariot thundered into the courtyard.

When he saw Freyja’s robes and Freyja’s jewels, it never occurred to Thrym to doubt that it was really Freyja under the veil. He took the bride’s hand and led her to her seat, laughing exultantly and singing his boastful song:

Then he ordered the food to be brought in, and invited every one to help him keep his wedding-feast.

When they began to eat, it was a wonder that Thor’s appetite did not betray him the very first thing. Either he was so hungry that he did not care what they thought, or else he forgot that he was pretending to be a dainty lady. Besides all the cheese and the curds and the honey, he ate seven whole salmon and one whole ox, and after that he drank three barrels of the sweet spicy mead. Loki pinched him under the table as a sign for him to stop, but he only growled in his beard and ate one salmon more.

Thrym’s eyes grew as big as milk-bowls.

“Saw I never such a hungry bride!” he exclaimed, pushing back to stare at her. “Saw I never a bride eat so much! Saw I never a maid drink so much mead!”

At that, even Thor was a little alarmed, for if the giant king should discover them before they got the hammer, not only would their plan fail but they would lose their lives into the bargain. He could think of nothing to answer, however, so he sat silent. Lucky was it for him that Loki always had his wits about him.

The Sly-One answered quickly, “Hungry is Freyja, thirsty is Freyja, for nothing has she eaten or drunk for eight days—so much did she long to come to Jotunheim.”

Thrym’s look of surprise changed to one of complacency.

“Is it so indeed!” he exclaimed, and finished his supper very pleasantly.

But by and by he became so pleased with his bride that he wanted to kiss her. Before Thor could hinder it, he reached out his great hairy hand and pulled at the veil. It slipped aside just enough to disclose Thor’s furious, fiery eyes.

The giant king sprang back the whole length of the hall.

“Why are Freyja’s eyes so sharp?” he cried. “It seems that fire burns in her eyes.”

By this time, the Strong-One was so angry that I think he hardly cared what happened. Lucky was it for all the folk of the sky that Loki was there to answer for him.

The Sly-One spoke up quickly, “Sharp are Freyja’s eyes, fiery are Freyja’s eyes. She has not slept for eight nights, so much did she long to come to Jotunheim.”

“Is it true indeed!” said Thrym, much flattered that his bride had been so eager to come to him. And he came back and sat down beside her and looked at her affectionately.

Finally the time came for the giving of the bridal gifts. An old sister of Thrym came and bowed low before the bride.

“Give from your hand the golden rings if you desire friendship of me,” she demanded, “if you desire friendship of me—and love.”

Because he was determined that he would never give her anything but a blow, Thor answered nothing whatever. Thrym feared that his bride was offended by the questions he had asked, so he hastened to do something to appease her.

He called to his servants, “Bring me the hammer to please my bride. Place the hammer on the lap of the maid. Wed us together in the name of Var.”

Thor’s heart laughed within him when he saw his beloved hammer drawn out of its hiding-place and borne toward him. But he sat as stiff as a stick. Until his hand grasped it, there was still danger. Nearer they came with it. Nearer—and all unsuspecting, they laid it upon his knee.

Then at last Thrym learned how the cleverness of the sky-people surpassed his cleverness. Thor’s mighty hand closed upon the handle; he threw back the veil; he leaped to his feet. His terrible eyes blazed upon them as his arm flew back to strike.

Once! and Thrym fell dead at his feet. Twice! and the old giantess lay beside her brother. Again and again and again—until the whole race of giants were felled like a forest of towering trees.

Thus came Odin’s son again by his hammer.