From last month, I continue the tale of Thor’s Journey to Utgard with another sixteen stanzas, and the poem is halfway finished here with 33 stanzas so far. Next month will bring part 3, in which Thor finally takes part in the games in the hall. Enjoy!
The companions agreed
and pooled their food.
Long was that day,
with lengthy strides
by Skrýmir on the way;
they scored a night-stead
under an oak tree,
and got on to supper.
The etin slept
but the others tried
to open his knapsack
to eat their dinner.
But tricky it was:
untying the knots
proved impossible,
no piece would loosen.
Then rage-filled Thor
raised his hammer,
and smashed the head
of sleeping Skrýmir.
The etin awoke,
asking whether
it was a fallen leaf,
and if they’d finished eating.
At midgnight Thor heard
the mighty snoring
of the sleeping etin
and swung again
the hammer swiftly;
it sank into the head.
The etin awoke,
an acorn fall he guessed.
At first light’s approach,
a final attempt,
a third strike Thor made
to thrash that foe.
With all his might
Ása-Thor struck;
the hammer went in,
to the handle it sank.
Skrýmir awoke,
a scowl on his face,
and supposed that birds
had pushed loose debris.
He asked the others
if all were awake,
for time it was
to travel soon.
He said that soon
they’d see the castle,
Utgard it was named,
where etins bigger
than Skrýmir lived,
and scary that seemed.
He advised the group
to not vent their pride.
Utgardaloki
was their awesome king,
and his mighty retainers
would mock, not tolerate
such big behaviour
from baby-sized guests.
Off on his own way,
the etin then left.
The group got going,
with grim Thor leading.
Right at midday,
they reached the castle.
So high the castle,
it was hard to see
the tower’s top
betwixt the clouds.
The gate was closed;
though great the effort,
Thor couldn’t budge it.
But through they got
by pressing between
that portal’s bars.
To the hall ahead
they hurried on.
In they all went
through open door,
crossing near benches
to the king’s high seat.
Utgardaloki
acted surprised
that the fellow so little
was famed Oku-Thor.
He asked what feats
the fellows could do.
For the retainers there,
the terms were strict;
all must excel
in some art or skill
and better than most,
being their standard.
Loki spoke up,
and all listened,
as the sly one said
that inside were none
who could eat their food
as fast as this Ase.
The king then called
for a contest at once.
A man named Logi
then made his way
to floor from bench
to face Loki
in the test of eating.
A trencher of meat
was laid with Logi
and Loki at the ends.
Each ate quickly,
so achingly fast,
and met in the middle
of the meat trencher.
All of the meat
was eaten by Loki,
but more ate Logi:
meat, bones, and trencher!
Thus Loki to Logi
had lost the contest;
Thor’s new servant,
Thjálfi, was next.
To run a race
with a rival chosen
by the king was his offer,
declared and accepted.
[Part three follows next month. This poem first appeared on my Patreon site in June 2023.]
Copyright © 2024 Eirik Westcoat
The Skaldic Eagle 