~ Heathen Stories and New Myths ~
The Wedding of Thor
“What gives you the black look, Red-beard?” Loki asked. “Your brow gets any lower, it will be lost in your beard!”
When Loki’s jibes got no answer, he sat upon the bench with his kinsmen and asked in seriousness,
“Come Thunderer, what trouble has left you so quiet?”
In a rush, Thor spoke of his failure to find a wife who
would fill his heart with joy, his hall with strong sons
a few moments, Loki seemed to have a thought. He began to speak of a maiden in
far of Jottunheim, named Sif.
With a shout he
was off around his hall Bilskirnir, shouting for his servants to ready his cart
and his mighty goats.
At the hall of Sif, Thor found that he was not alone in
wooing her, for Utgard-Loki also sought her fair hand.
“I am a maiden alone, without household. As my
mother taught me to cook for my mighty father,
Utgard-Loki towerd above Thor,
his massive thews coiled with golden arm rings, his cloak of seamless soft fur
“I am best of Jottuns, rich chieftain of famed table. All the nine
worlds know that my feasts know
Thor scowled, ill pleased he could not settle this with hard strokes, but in no way willing to be bested by any ettin.
“Second to no ettin, god or wight at table or battle both, I will win thee for my own, fair Sif!” he vowed.
In the central firepit hung two roasting giant auroch, easily seven feet at the
“Too long we waited for this boasting Aesir to come, this meat has gone tough as old bone!”
He threw the auroch aside and laughed:
“In my hall you will never cook, for I have full hundred thralls.”
Sifs eyes looked coldly upon the discarded aurochs, and upon the smirking Jottun.
She turned to Thor to see how he would respond.
“In Bilskirnir hall right gladly will I eat any fare from your hand, and at your call will be servants
of better mettle than his whipped thralls", answered Thor as he stepped to his aurochs.
With his matchless arms he raised his aurochs, although it weighed more than a ship.
With iron jaws he chewed the auroch, although for so fair a maiden and so famed a cook,
the meat was hard as stone! Bite after bite did Thor chew, gnawing here and there upon the beast
until he could eat no more. For all that Thor staggered backwards with the beast only showing
a few meagre holes, Sif smiled full fair upon him.
Sif held forth a great horn, almost an amphora.
“This is my father’s mead horn, and he who drains it dry shall find my favour.”
Utgard-Loki again seized first chance, and raised the cup in his two great hands and began to guzzle.
With a startled oath he spat on the floor crying,
“Too salty! In my hall have I have sisters thrice who brew fine mead, that never will you have to drink such a bitter cup!”
Utgard-Loki’s boasts again left Sif unmoved.
Sif turned to Thor as if daring him to do better.
Utgard-Loki laughed to see the
Jottun-bane laid low, and demanded, since each suitor had failed
Sif’s blue eyes
blazed like lightning in a summer storm, and her voice rang hard and bold as a
sword upon a shield boss:
Utgard-Loki scowled as he saw the son of Jord swell with rising hope.
The Jottun sought to win back the favour he had lost by a matching offer:
“My halls overflow with gold, and were you mine, I would send great ships of wealth to your kinsmen’s harbours.”
Sif was unmoved by this offer, and she replied. “My kinsmen are no
beggars, and no one can feast on gold.
With right good
will did Thor and Sif make their pledges, and no Aesir, Vanir or Jottun could
Utgard-Loki neither forgot nor forgave Thor's winning of the fair Sif, and
indeed there would come a time
© John T Mainer
This work by John T Mainer is licensed