Myths of the Rhine

by X.-B. Saintine

As hour after hour passed and the plain remained deserted and sterile, their hunger became tormenting. They listened with all their might, hoping they might hear the roaring of a bear or the lowing of a cow, determined as they were to dine upon the one or the other; but the dull rumbling of a storm and the distant roll of thunder was all they heard.

Thor was furious at the idea that any one should venture to thunder without having obtained permission from him, the god of thunder, and rushed forward. Following the direction of the noise, he reached a rocky defile, overshadowed by a few oak trees, where he found Skrymner lying at full length between two hills and snoring furiously. This snoring it was which the travellers had taken for the roaring of a storm.

“No doubt,” said Thor to himself, “the wretch is at work digesting the provisions of which he has robbed us. No doubt it was he who tied all those knots in the strings of our knapsack, in order to conceal his theft; but he shall pay for it dear! Besides, did he not speak of me as an undersized god?”

With these words he seized his hammer and threw it at the head of the sleeping giant, who did not stir, but only passed his hand over his brow as if a dead leaf falling from a tree had tickled him a little.

Thor went up closer and struck him once more on the back of his head, directly on the cerebellum, which in giants is unusually developed.

This time the sleeper opened one eye, closed it again, and after having scratched himself at the place where he had been struck, he fell asleep again.

Brutal by nature and doubly so when fasting, Thor had become perfectly furious when he found himself thus mysteriously powerless. Fully determined the next time to make an end, once for all, of his adversary, he put on his invisible belt, which had the gift of doubling his strength, seized his hammer with both hands and threw it with such amazing force at the giant, that it sank up to the handle into one of his cheeks and Thor had no small trouble in getting it to come back to him.

This time Skrymner was fully roused; he opened both of his eyes, raised his hand to his cheek, and exclaimed that it was impossible to sleep comfortably in that place, as a fly had just stung him in the cheek.

Then, perceiving his assailant, who stood right before him, he asked him good-naturedly, how he happened to be there, and whether he had lost his way. In the meantime the other travellers are also coming up and Skrymner offers to show them the way to the great city of Utgard, where he promises they will find a good inn, a good table, a warm reception, and not only enough for their wants but all that their heart can desire.

Thor does not know what to think. Overcome and confounded, he follows the footsteps of his guide, without being able to form any idea except the one: to avenge himself in a signal manner for all his humiliations.