“With us, Thor,” said the king, “a giant is thought a good drinker if he can empty the horn at a single draught; a moderate drinker does it in two, and any giant can do it in three.”
Thor gave his magic belt a quick twist. Instantly his little form began to expand; and he stood before them, a god of majestic size, half as big as the giants themselves, and with muscles greater than their own. Taking the horn in one of his mighty hands, he breathed with all his force and drank till it seemed as if the vessel must have been emptied twice over. Triumphantly he raised his head and looked within. But the mead still brimmed to the horn’s edge.
Astonished and angry, he bent his lips again and drank till he thought he should burst. But again the horn seemed as full as when he had begun. With a last desperate straining, he lifted it a third time and buried his face in its vast depth. He stopped, breathless and choking. The mead had sunk below the rim, but the horn was still more than half full.
A great silence came over the hall. Loki and Thialfi cast down their eyes. But Thor threw back his head, unbaffled. “Give me any weight,” he cried, “and I will lift it. You shall yet see the matchless strength of Thor.”
A gray cat larger than an elephant rubbed itself against the steps of the throne. “Perhaps then, Thor,” said the giant king, “you will lift my cat for me.”
Snorting with scorn, Thor took a swift step forward, and put one immense arm around it. But the cat seemed bound to the floor with iron chains. Thor tugged again. But the harder he pulled, the higher the cat arched its back; and the best he could do was to make it lift one paw from the floor.
Thor roared with rage. “Let me wrestle,” he cried. “I defy any giant of you all to match his strength against mine. Let any one try to bring Thor low, in fair and single combat!”
“Ask my old nurse Elli to come in,” ordered the giant king.
Thor’s eyes flashed. “Do not mock me,” he thundered. “At your risk you taunt the great god Thor.”