Thor

The story

One morning Thor woke up and could not find his hammer.

That might not sound like much. But Thor's hammer was called Mjöllnir, and it was the most precious treasure in Asgard. When he threw it, it hit its target and then flew back, all by itself, into his hand. With that hammer Thor kept the giants away; otherwise they would have come down into the world of humans and caused all sorts of trouble.

Thor looked around. He looked under the bed. He looked inside the wardrobe. Then he started to bellow.

“Listen, Loki! Listen carefully to what I'm telling you: nobody knows it, not on earth and not in the heavens. My hammer has been stolen!”

Thunder rolled across the mountains, and from that moment the whole of Asgard knew.

Loki, the craftiest of the gods, arrived still half asleep. “Let's see,” he said. “We'll go to Freyja. She has a feather cloak, and with that you can fly.”

They went to her, and Loki asked, “Will you lend me your cloak? I have to look for Thor's hammer.”

“I'd give it to you even if it were made of gold,” Freyja replied, “and I'd give it to you even if it were made of silver.”

Loki put on the cloak. The feathers rustled and up he flew, over the mountains, over the seas, all the way to the land of the giants. There, on a hill, sat the king of the giants, Thrym, busy plaiting golden collars for his dogs.

“What do you want, Loki?” said Thrym. “Why have you taken to flying?”

“Thor's hammer has gone,” said Loki. “Do you know who took it?”

The giant smiled.

“I took it. I've hidden it eight miles under the ground. No one will get it back, unless I can have Freyja as my wife.”

Loki flew back. Thor was waiting outside, his beard trembling with worry. “Any news?”

“Bad news. And good news.” Loki told him everything.

They went to Freyja. In the gentlest voice he could manage, Thor said, “Put on your bridal veil. We have to go to the land of the giants.”

Freyja did not answer straight away. She was so furious that the whole of Asgard shook, and her necklace, the magnificent Brísingamen, snapped in two.

“Do you think I'm mad enough to follow you to a land of giants?” she said. “I will never marry a giant!”

The gods gathered in council. They argued for a long time. In the end Heimdall spoke, the watchman, the one who can hear the grass grow.

“Let's dress Thor as the bride,” he said. “Let's put the Brísingamen necklace on him. Let's hang the keys from his belt. A lovely veil over his face, a dress down to his feet, jewels on his chest.”

There was total silence.

“The gods will call me a weakling,” roared Thor, “if they see me dressed as a bride!”

“Quiet, Thor,” said Loki. “If you don't get your hammer back, the giants will come and live in Asgard.”

Thor thought about it for a while. Then he grumbled, let them dress him, and when he was ready, with the veil over his face, his beard hidden, the keys jingling, the jewels on his chest and a dress that was too short for him, Loki had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“I'll come with you,” he said. “I'll be the bridesmaid.”

So off they went. Thor travelled in a chariot pulled by two goats, which you could even eat in the evening, and by the next morning they would be alive again, whole. That day they ran fast, the mountains smoked, and the earth burned under the racing chariot. When they reached the land of the giants, Thrym saw them from far away and rubbed his hands.

“Up, giants! Set out the benches! Freyja is coming, my bride!”

They went into the hall. They sat in the places of honour. And the feast began.

That was where Thor showed just how hard it was to pretend to be a young bride.

In front of him they had set the finest dishes. Thor ate a whole ox. Then eight salmon. Then all the delicacies meant for the women, and he drank three barrels of mead, one after another, without stopping for breath.

Thrym stared at him, stunned.

“Never have I seen a bride eat like that,” he said. “Never have I seen a maiden drink so much!”

Loki, dressed as the bridesmaid, leaned over quietly. “Freyja hasn't eaten a thing for eight nights,” he murmured. “She was so eager to come to you.”

The giant turned red with delight. He bent down to kiss the bride, lifted the veil, and leapt backwards.

“Why are Freyja's eyes so terrible?” he stammered. “They look as if they're burning!”

“She hasn't slept for eight nights,” Loki said at once, without missing a beat. “She longed so much to see you.”

Then Thrym's sister came in, an old giantess with a nose like a potato, and said, “Give me your gold ring, bride, if you want my friendship.”

Thrym signalled to his servants. “Bring the hammer! Lay it in the bride's lap, and let us bless the wedding!”

That was the end.

When Thor felt the weight of Mjöllnir on his knees, his heart laughed. He reached out, closed his hand round the handle, and the veil slipped from his face.

The sound of his laughter shook the hall. The hammer did the rest, and of everyone at that feast, not a single giant was left standing.

They say that after that day no giant ever dared come near Asgard again. That the gods' council laughed for months, remembering the chariot, the veil, the keys, the three barrels. Even Freyja laughed about it in the end, although at first she would not hear a word about the whole business.

But Thor never talked about it. And if anyone at dinner said the word “bride”, he went red right up to his ears and changed the subject.

Years later, at the twilight of the world, Thor will face the great serpent Jörmungandr, and that will be a serious fight, with no veil and no jokes, one the North will sing about for centuries. But before all that, in a hall full of giants, there was the day of the feast.

Because even a god of thunder has his pride. And even a god of thunder, sometimes, has to dress up as a bride.