Norse Mythology: Chapters 10–13

Loki said, “You know, the marrow of the bones of those goats is the finest thing a young man can eat. Such a shame that Thor always keeps it all for himself. If you want to grow up to be as strong as Thor, you should eat the goat bone-marrow.”

Utgardaloki clapped his hands, and a long wooden trough was brought in, with all manner of roasted animals in it: geese and oxen and sheep, goats and rabbits and deer.

The mood among the giants was more relaxed now, more jovial.

The giants looked at Thor and they began to jeer, but he glared at them, and they were silent.

“Your foster mother?” Thor was incredulous.

She was a giant, yes, but only a little taller than Thor. Her hair was wispy and thin on her ancient head.

The companions were quiet and they were awkward, and humbled by their defeat.

Because of you, Thor, the seawater will rise and ebb forevermore.

Now the three travelers were standing on a desolate plain, with no signs of any kind of life whatsoever.

As the pit was opened, the eagle swooped down and seized in its claws the two rear haunches of the ox, along with a shoulder, and began to tear at it with a ravenous beak.

Loki was furious, seeing much of his dinner about to be devoured, and he struck at the eagle with his spear, hoping to force it to drop its plundered food.

Her hair was long and gray, and the lines in her face were deep and careworn.

The necklace of the Brisings still hung around her neck, but it was dull and tarnished, and it did not shine.

When the negotiations were concluded, the gods and Skadi had agreed that she would be recompensed for her father’s death in three ways.

“Like a fox wailing in the nighttime!” exclaimed Balder, stifling his laughter.

Loki clambered down from her lap and staggered away, both hands clutching between his legs as he went, glaring in an aggrieved fashion at all the gods and goddesses, who only laughed the louder.

Beside the funeral pyre the gods had made for the remains of the giant, two huge orbs sat, filled with light.

The mortals of Midgard revered Frey.

They were eating boar meat, ladled out from an enormous cauldron.

“Frey? What has happened? You are angry. Or you are downcast. Something has happened. You have to tell me what is happening to you.”

"I went to the All-father’s holy seat, and I looked out at the world. For my arrogance in believing I had a right to the observation place, my happiness has been taken from me forever. I have paid for my crime, and I am paying still.”

"You are asking a lot, my lord,” said Skirnir.
“I will give anything,” said Frey fervently, and he shivered.

Skirnir shrugged. “It is a fine sword. If you wish me to bring you Gerd, this sword will be my wages.”
Frey nodded assent.

Before he could even climb down from his horse, Frey was there, even more pale and even more wan than when he had left him.

When the sky splits asunder and the dark powers of Muspell march out on their war journey, Frey will wish he still had his sword.

He looked Thor in the eye and said, "I will make a banquet, and it will be the finest feast that any of you will ever have attended. My servant, Fimafeng, will serve each of you diligently, bringing you as much food as your bellies can hold, as much ale as you can drink. I have only one condition: I will throw the feast, but you must first bring me a cauldron big enough to brew ale for you all. There are so many of you, and your appetites are huge.”

"Why?” The giant’s voice was loud and petulant.

The kettle beneath which Tyr and Thor were hidden was lifted, and they found themselves staring up at an enormous face, its features twisted into a sulky scowl.

“You are guests here. Do not stand on ceremony. Take as much as you can eat from the pot,” said Hymir expansively.

“Doesn’t worry me,” said Thor. “I like the cold. It’s bracing. What are we using for bait?”

He gutted them with his sharp, sharp bait knife, tossed the guts into the sea, then impaled the fish on the hooks of his line.

The two whales that Hymir had caught earlier, at the prow of the boat, made the rowing harder than it normally would have been.

The giants stopped their joking and their songs. They watched him warily.

The giants were raucous and loud, and now were ignoring him.

Methodically, enthusiastically, one after the next, Thor killed the giants of the waste, until the earth ran black and red with their blood.