Thor's Wedding Day Read online

Then, from somewhere ahead, I heard a sound.

  Skalpa stopped, reared up on her hind legs, tilted her head as if listening. Dropping back down she began to run fester than ever.

  I hurried after her.

  Now I could see a glow of light ahead of us.

  I heard a pair of gruff voices and the pounding of a hammer.

  I hurried to the edge of the light, then stopped.

  12

  Brock and Sindri

  I was standing at the entrance to a cave. Without thinking, I rested my hand on Skalpa’s head, almost as if she were a faithful dog.

  In the center of the cave was a fire pit. Leaping and twisting from the pit were the flames of a merry blaze. They cast flickering shadows on the stony walls.

  I glanced around, trying to take it all in. From side to side, the cave seemed to be about the size of the cottage where Roskva and I used to live with our parents. Ahead and to my left stood a low—very low—wooden table with two benches. Resting on it were bowls of food, which reminded me that I still hadn’t eaten.

  On the other side of the cave a gout of water spouted two or three feet into the air, rising from a basin that had been scooped directly out of the stone floor. Thrusting down from the cave ceiling above it were pointed stems of glistening rock.

  All this was interesting enough. But what really caught my attention were the two men arguing on the far side of the fire pit. Though dancing flames obscured my view, I could make out that both had long hair and shaggy black beards. Both were heavily muscled. And neither stood much higher than my waist.

  Dwarfs! But what were dwarfs doing in the world of the giants?

  I considered ducking back into the tunnel, but clearly this was where Skalpa had wanted to lead me. Any doubts I might have had about that vanished when she scampered over to the dwarfs, who broke off their argument to greet the enormous rat with a happy cry of “Skalpa!”

  The rat reared onto her hind legs, which brought her almost eye to eye with the two little men. Then she twisted her head in my direction.

  “Ah!” cried one of the men. “A visitor. How unexpected. Come in, lass. Come in!”

  Lass? I was about to be offended, until I remembered I was still wearing that dress. Glancing down I saw that it was filthy from my crawl through the tunnel. What I didn’t see was any reason to reveal that I was really a boy.

  “Come on!” urged the dwarf. “We won’t bite you. Odds are good Skalpa won’t, either.”

  Taking a deep breath, I circled the fire pit to where the little men stood.

  “I am Brock,” said the one who had called to me. “And this is my brother, Sindri.”

  Sindri made a short bow, then stared at me suspiciously. “You’re no lass!” he said at last.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, worried that they might be angry with me for trying to deceive them—and worried, too, that my disguise was failing.

  “Any idiot can see you’re a boy,” scoffed Brock. “Bet you fooled the giants, though, didn’t you?”

  I smiled at that. “So far,” I admitted.

  “Not hard with that lot,” said Brock. “All right, what’s your name—your real name?”

  “Thialfi.”

  “And what are you doing in the tunnels below Jotunheim, Thialfi?” asked Sindri with a scowl.

  I considered replying that I might ask him the same thing, but since there were two of them and only one of me, and since despite their size I suspected either one could knock me senseless, I held back. Besides, I trusted Gat, and Gat had trusted Skalpa, and Skalpa clearly trusted these two.

  Hoping that chain of trust would prove true, I said, “I’ve come to Jotunheim with mighty Thor.” I was about to add that we had come in quest of his hammer, but now I did hold back. It didn’t seem like a good idea to spread around the news that Mjollnir was missing.

  Brock’s face darkened at my answer. “Has the Thunderer brought Loki with him?” he growled.

  “Peace, brother,” said Sindri. “Our anger with the deceitful one must give way to the need to help Thor.”

  Brock muttered angrily, then spat on the floor.

  “I’m confused,” I said. “What are the two of you doing in Jotunheim? And why do you say you want to help Thor? Do you know what has happened?”

  Without speaking, Sindri went to the wall behind the table, where I now noticed a few cloaks hanging from pegs that had been pounded into the living stone. He slipped one on, turned away, muttered a few words, and turned back.

  His face was utterly changed—changed, and familiar.

  “Ragnar!” I cried.

  “Well, that was the name I used when I came to Asgard in this magical disguise. But this is a mere seeming, a glamour. Underneath the spell, I am Sindri, and I should thank you for letting me into Bilskirnir that night, Miss Thialfi. It made my task much easier.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, feeling more confused than ever. “If you were the one who stole Thor’s hammer, why help us get it back now?”

  “Because we hate Thrym,” said Sindri.

  “Almost as much as we hate Loki,” growled Brock.

  “Thrym forced us to steal the hammer,” continued Sindri.

  “How could he do that?” I asked.

  Sindri looked embarrassed and said, “It is forbidden for us to mine in Jotunheim. Knowing that, Brock and I came here anyway, because we had heard there was a vein of a rare metal that I need.”

  “What we found was not the metal but a trap,” said Brock angrily. “A trap set by Thrym!”

  “So Thrym sent out the rumor in order to lure you here?” I asked.

  Sindri nodded, and it occurred to me that Thrym might not be as stupid as everyone claimed.

  “Having captured us, it was in his power to make three demands of us,” said Brock, picking up the story. “His first bidding was that we must steal Thor’s hammer.”

  “But how did you do it?” I asked. “Even the other gods can’t lift the thing. So how could you make off with it?”

  Brock looked at me in surprise. “Do you really not know?”

  “Know what?”

  Brock pointed to his brother, and a glow of pride lit his ugly face. “Sindri made the hammer in the first place! Mjollnir knows its maker’s hand. Sindri can lift it easily.”

  Sindri sighed bitterly, “My poor Mjollnir! It would have been perfect, if not for Loki’s interference.”

  “What did Loki have to do with it?” I asked.

  “Years ago we had a bet,” growled Brock. “I had said that Sindri was a better craftsman than the sons of Ivaldi, who were special pets of Loki’s, could ever dream of being. The prince of mischief disagreed. So we made a bet.”

  “You bet your head, you fool!” said Sindri sharply.

  “I bet it on you!” replied Brock, sounding hurt. Turning to me, he said, “My brother forged three great wonders—the ring, Draupnir, that Odin wears on his arm; the glowing golden boar that belongs to Frey; and Thor’s hammer. Of course, Loki didn’t want brother to win the bet, so he kept interfering.”

  “It wasn’t mere interfering,” said Sindri angrily. “It was cheating, plain and simple. He turned himself into a stinging fly, and while Brock was supposed to be manning the forge, the trickster bit him so hard he stopped working the bellows for a moment. That was all it took. The hammer was still a great wonder. But it was not perfect. Its handle came out shorter than it was supposed to.” The dwarf’s face twisted with bitterness for a moment, then he shrugged and said simply, “Nevertheless, it does the job.”

  “Anyway,” said Brock, who was clearly embarrassed by the story, “the hammer is easy enough for brother to lift. After he slipped it out of Asgard, we brought it back here to Thrym.”

  “That was when he gave us his second bidding,” said Sindri. “He told us to carry it deep underground, where neither god nor elf could find it.”

  Brock smirked at the memory. “The big fool thinks we can dig anywhere, anywhen at his command. He
has no idea that this tunnel took years to dig. It’s been here since before his grandfather’s time.”

  “Has Thrym made his third demand?” I asked.

  Sindri grimaced. “Yes. His final bidding was that I must fashion a false hammer, one that would look exactly like Mjollnir but without its mighty power. That was easy enough to do, and now we are free of his demands. But we are most uneasy about what he means to do next.”

  “What he intends to do with that false hammer, we have no idea,” added Brock. “But we suspect it is some great ill, which we really do not want to have on our consciences.”

  I understood about guilty consciences.

  I also knew what Thrym had in mind, of course, and quickly filled the dwarfs in on his demand for Freya to be his bride, and how Thor had come in Freya’s place, expecting to be able to fight free once the hammer was delivered into his hands.

  Brock looked horrified. “But if Thor is given the false hammer, he’ll be discovered, perhaps even killed!”

  “We have to get the real hammer back to him as quickly as possible,” said Sindri. “Thrym is an oath breaker, and all our duty to him is dissolved by this.”

  “But how can we possibly get Mjollnir into Thor’s hand while he’s surrounded by dozens of giants?” asked Brock.

  Sindri put a finger beside his nose and thought for a moment. Finally he said, “The best way would be to get the giants themselves to deliver it. If we could switch the real hammer for the false, they would take it to him without even realizing it.”

  “How can we do that?” I asked. “We don’t know where the false hammer is . . .”

  I broke off as I thought of how I might be able to find out. The idea horrified me. But it was not as bad as the thought of what would happen if we couldn’t get Mjollnir back to Thor. Swallowing hard, I said, “I think I know someone who can help us.”

  “Who?” demanded the dwarfs.

  Bunching up my skirts, I squatted by the fire and explained my idea.

  13

  The Hidden Hammer

  Our journey back to the surface seemed to go much faster than the trip down. That might have been simply because now I had a sense of where we were going. Or it might have been because Brock and Sindri brought along torches that cast far more light than my little gift from Roskva. Or it might simply have been because I was in such a fuss over what I had to do next that I didn’t even think about how long it was taking us.

  In any event, the four of us—Skalpa, the two dwarfs, and me—were back in the root cellar soon enough. Now that we had regular torches, I could see that it was filled with baskets holding turnips as big as my head, and bunches of carrots as long as my arm. The sight of them made my stomach grumble. Alas, dinner would have to wait.

  “Now remember,” I said as I crouched beneath the door, “even if this plan works, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away once I find out where the hammer is. So stay close enough to hear me—but not so close you can be seen.”

  “Don’t try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs,” growled Brock. “We know what to do.”

  Suddenly I realized there was one member of our group I might not see again. Having no idea if she could understand me or not, I turned to Skalpa. “Thank you for your help, friend rat. You were a good and faithful guide.”

  You can believe this or not, as you choose, but she actually reared up on her hind legs and gave me a salute. Then she scampered into the darkness at the back of the root cellar and disappeared.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Ready,” said the dwarfs.

  Moving cautiously, Brock lifted the heavy wooden door that covered the cellar. Though he was only a little more than half my height, I could tell by the easy way he handled the door that he was probably twice as strong.

  I was glad the dwarfs were on our side.

  I heard Sindri mutter something—clearly a magical word, since the torches instantly went out.

  We climbed out of the cellar and into the night. The sky above was clear, spangled with bright and burning stars. A cool, sweet-smelling breeze swept past. But the night was not peaceful, for the boisterous racket of the giants had grown louder than ever. Even so, we moved quietly as we made our way around the corner of the house.

  Now we had a piece of good luck. I had thought I would have to go looking for Hralf. But he was sitting just outside the kitchen door, leaning against the wall and looking sullen.

  Motioning for the dwarfs to stay hidden, I hurried to his side.

  Pitching my voice to be high and girlish again, I cried, “There you are, Hralf! I was so worried about you. Are you all right?”

  “Where did you disappear to, goat girl?” he asked, sounding surly. “They’re looking fer you in the kitchen.” He wrinkled his nose. “How’d you get so dirty?”

  “I chased that rat too far and got lost,” I said. Moving closer, I took his arm and looked up at him, batting my eyes as I did. “I was so frightened,” I whimpered. “I’m glad I found my way back to you.”

  He nodded, and came close to smiling.

  “You must be proud to be the nephew of such a mighty giant as Thrym,” I continued, trying not to gag on my own words.

  Hralf shrugged. “Uncle is good enough. Smart enough to fool Thor, anyway!”

  “Have you seen the hammer?” I asked breathlessly. “Close up, I mean?”

  “Of course,” he said, puffing his chest out a bit.

  “Would you show it to me?” I asked, trying to sound eager. “I’ve always wanted to look at it up close, maybe even touch it.”

  Hralf looked at me sharply. “Why should I do that?”

  I shrugged, then glanced down. Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I murmured, “I might be willing to give you that kiss . . .”

  Hralf cried, “I knew you liked me, goat girl! Come on!”

  Grabbing my hand, he nearly yanked my arm from its socket in his eagerness to earn his reward. Hoping that Brock and Sindri were following, I trotted after him.

  To my surprise, he led me to the stables.

  “We put the hammer in here, to hide it from any gods that might have come along with Freya to try to steal it back,” said Hralf proudly. Leading me to one of the mangers, he pulled aside a clump of hay to reveal a hammer that was a perfect duplicate of the real Mjollnir.

  “It’s wonderful,” I said, reaching out my hand as if to touch it. I didn’t really care to touch the thing, of course. I was just trying to buy time, for two reasons: First, I wanted to give Brock and Sindri as much chance as I could to follow us and see where the false hammer was hidden. Second, I was desperately trying to put off the moment when I would have to make good on my promise to kiss Hralf.

  Then I had a new idea. “I’ve heard that none but Thor can lift it. But I bet a strong young giant like you could manage it.”

  Hralf looked pleased, but also a little nervous. “I probably could,” he said. “But Uncle would be very angry if he found out. In fact, I should not have shown it to you at all. I took a big chance doing this, goat girl. Now it’s time fer my reward!”

  Again, he lowered his great, goofy face toward mine. Feeling sick to my stomach, I braced myself for the slobbery smack of his huge lips. I could feel his breath on my face. (I couldn’t smell it because I was holding my own breath, for safety’s sake.) Just when it looked as if there was no hope of escape, Hralf’s eyes widened in astonishment and he went sailing over my shoulder.

  Standing behind the spot the young giant had just vacated was Grinder. The goat was smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

  Fearing Hralf’s anger, I turned to see what had happened to him. To my relief, he had struck his head against the back wall of the shed and been knocked senseless. Not that he had much sense to begin with.

  I spun back to Grinder. “Thank you!”

  The goat shrugged. “You saved our lives back in the woods last night. Now we’re even.” He paused, then added, “Besides, I didn’t want to lose our master and ou
r goat boy to lovesick giants.”

  Then he trotted back to stand beside Gat, who grinned and winked at me.

  I had been hoping to see Brock and Sindri by now. What was keeping them? I went to the stable door to look for them. But no sooner had I stuck my head out than a great hand grabbed my ear and a woman’s voice cried, “There you are, you lazy thing! Come along with you now, and be quick about it. You’re wanted at your lady’s table.”

  I struggled, but it was no use—the giantess had a firm grip on me. So I was dragged back to the kitchen, where she said, “Get out there at once. It’s time for the wedding feast to begin and your lady’s maid has been calling for you. She says they can’t start without you. You’d better get in there, girl, or there’ll be hob to pay. Thrym is getting impatient to have his bride!”

  14

  Thor at the Banquet

  Winding my way among the giants, who were drunker than ever, I headed for the table where Thrym sat between Thor and Loki. I’m not sure if I would have made it if Loki hadn’t spotted me and piped, “Ah, it’s our dear little goat girl! Where have you been, Thialfina? We’ve been waiting for you. Come and serve your mistress.”

  Some of the giants actually moved aside for me after this, though I did hear one of them grunt, “Filthiest goat girl I ever saw. You’d think them gods would want better than her at a wedding.” I felt like kicking him but resisted.

  Making my way around two giants who were having a thumb-wrestling match, I finally reached the bride’s table.

  This was the first time I had been able to get a good look at Thrym, and the sight was not a pretty one. The giant’s thick black hair hung about his shoulders in clotted mats. The beard that tumbled over his chest was so dotted with remnants of meals past that it could probably have fed a family of mice for a month.

  As for Thor, though his dress and veil were still in place, one of his bosoms was now clearly higher than the other.

  Loki, on the other hand, was still so perfectly arranged that anyone who didn’t know better would have thought him the bride-to-be.