AEGIR, a fierce old jotun, was the lord of the stormy sea; he lived far out in the ocean with his wife and nine daughters. His hall was surrounded by a fence of white sea foam, and its roof was hidden by clouds of screaming sea birds. Ran, his wife, was an evil ogress who wrecked ships and lured sailors to the bottom of the sea. Then she greedily gathered their gold from the ocean floor and heaped it up on her hearth, where it gleamed brighter than fire.
Aegir’s nine daughters were wild but graceful maidens who loved the roaring gales. Gaily they leapt into the breakers and rode the waves that raged against the shores. Their red hair glittered lovely and warm in the sun, but they were pitiless and cold, and laughingly overturned ships so that their mother could have more gold.
Aegir was on friendly terms with the Aesir, since they had kept him in power, and indeed they counted the jotun as one of them. He was a welcome guest at Asgard, but he never invited the Aesir to his hall. At last the Aesir decided it was time Aegir gave a feast for them. Thor brought him the message, and he was not altogether polite.
“You had better get busy brewing and baking,” he said. And he looked at the jotun with such a scowl that Aegir was afraid to say “no.” Trying to think up a good excuse, he squirmed and squinted, and, since his eyes were small and ugly, that did not make them any prettier.
At last he said, “I don’t have a caldron big enough to brew beer for so many highly honored guests, but if you can bring me one I shall be glad to feast all of you.” For he knew. that no one but Hymir, one of the wildest of the jotuns, had such a caldron, and that he would never willingly lend it to one of the Aesir. But Thor said he would bring a caldron and returned to Asgard.
Now Tyr, Thor’s half brother, was a grandson of Hymir, and he remembered that there were huge caldrons hanging in Hymir’s hall. “I will go with you,” he said to Thor, “and if I choose my words well, my grandfather might let you have one.”
So Thor and Tyr set off for Jotunheim together and came to Hymir’s hall. His wife, a dreadful hag with nine hundred heads, stood blocking the door. But her daughter, who was beautiful and gentle, came forward to let them in. She was Tyr’s mother, and when she had greeted him fondly, she asked what errand had brought him and Thor to faraway Jotunheim. When they told her why they had come, she shook her head but said she would try to help them.
“Hurry and hide behind a pillar,” she said. “The old one will soon be home, and he does not care for strangers in his hall.”
Thor hated to hide from a jotun, but he and Tyr did as they were told. They had hardly gotten out of sight when Hymir stormed through the door. Icicles cracked and tinkled in the frozen forest on his chin, and his mood was just as icy as his beard.
“Come, Father, sit by the fire and warm yourself,” said Tyr’s mother. “I have good news for you. Your grandson Tyr has come to see us, and he has brought his kinsman, Thor, with him. They are behind that pillar, waiting to greet you.”
As soon as Hymir heard Thor’s name he sprang to his feet and stared down the hall. So fierce was his stare that it split the pillar, and eight huge caldrons that had been hanging from the crossbeam crashed to the floor. All but the very biggest of them broke into pieces.
Then Thor and Tyr stepped forward and greeted him politely. Hymir grunted and snarled, but he kept his manners. Even a jotun had to abide by the laws of hospitality, and he had three whole oxen put on the spit. Thor ate two of them all by himself and washed them down with barrels of beer and mead.
“It seems to me that you have eaten a man-sized meal,” Hymir said to Thor. “Now if we want to eat tomorrow, you and I had better go fishing for whales.” Thor had nothing against that, and the next morning the two of them set off. They didn’t use minnows for bait; Thor had nothing less than the head of a steer tied onto his hook! Each of them grasped a pair of oars and they rowed straight into the wild and open sea. When at last all land had disappeared from sight, they pulled in their oars and threw out their lines.
Hymir soon had two fat whales wriggling on his hook, and he heaved them into the boat. But Thor’s hook, baited with the steer head, sank all the way to the bottom. Suddenly the sea all around them started boiling, and there was such a jerk on Thor’s line that his hand slammed against the gunwhale. Angrily he pulled with all his enormous strength, and what did he pull up but the mighty Midgard’s Serpent itself! Thor and the serpent glared at each other with red, glowing eyes; then Thor swung his hammer and threw it at the monster’s skull. The serpent let out a howl so loud that earth and sea trembled, and the mountains rang, far in the distance. Hymir, his teeth chattering with fear, cut the fishing line before Thor could strike another blow, and in a foaming whirlpool the serpent sank back to the bottom of the sea.
Thor glowered darkly but did not say a word. In silence they rowed to shore. When they landed, Hymir said, “Now let us share the work.” Thor did not even answer. He grabbed the boat with whales, oars, dipper, and bilge water, and pulled it far up on the shore. Then he threw the whales over his shoulders, stuck the oars under his arms, and tramped off to Hymir’s hall. Hymir could hardly keep up with Thor, even with his hands empty. The hag with the many heads boiled the whales, and there was enough food to go around for that dinner!
When Hymir had eaten his fill and had wiped the whale oil out of his beard, Tyr asked him to lend them a caldron. “The feats of mighty Thor have earned that favor,” he added.
“It doesn’t take great strength to row a bit and carry a couple of whales a short little way,” said Hymir sourly. Then he scowled at Thor. “But if you can break my crystal goblet, you really are as strong as they claim,” he said. “If you can do that I will give you a caldron.”
Thor took the goblet and threw it against one of the pillars in the hall. It shot through the pillar and fell to the floor, and there wasn’t even a nick in it.
“Throw it at Hymir’s head,” Tyr’s mother whispered into his ear. “Nothing in the world is as hard as his head.”
Thor swung the goblet and threw it with all his might, and when the goblet hit Hymir’s head it broke into a thousand rock-crystal splinters.
Hymir groaned loudly. Not only had he lost his precious goblet, he had lost his only remaining caldron as well. But he had no way of stopping Thor from swinging the caldron over his head and walking out of the hall with Tyr following. The caldron was so heavy that Thor’s feet sank deep into the ground, and it was so big that the handles clanked against his heels. Even Thor had trouble carrying it.
They had not walked far when they heard a noise behind them. Looking back, they saw a swarm of jotuns and many-headed trolls running after them. Even more of them leapt up from. clefts in the ground and from behind boulders, and Hymir led them all. Thor set down the caldron and swung his hammer. Every time he threw the hammer, it knocked down a jotun or a troll, and in no time at all he had made an end of Hymir and all his followers. Then he swung the caldron over his head again and carried it straight to Aegir’s hall.
Aegir kept his word; he did not dare do otherwise. He brewed beer and mead and prepared a feast so splendid that the Aesir had never seen its equal. The shimmering gold on the hearth lit up the hall. The drinking horns rolled up and down the tables from hand to hand and filled themselves when they were empty. And like will-o’-the-wisps Aegir’s two servants were everywhere at once, heaping food before the guests. It was the best feast ever, and Aegir, in a high good mood, promised the Aesir he would prepare them such a feast every year.