Freyja

The story

Freyja lived in a hall called Sessrúmnir, in Fólkvangr, and nobody had ever worked out how many seats it had. There were a great many, because every time warriors died in battle, half of them came to her. The other half went to Odin, in Valhalla.

She did not ride horses to get about. She rode a chariot pulled by two cats as big as dogs, who never let anyone give them orders and whom she always agreed with. She had a necklace, the Brísingamen, that shone even in the dark. She had a cloak of falcon feathers: whoever wore it could fly. And she had a husband, Óðr, who set off one day on a long journey and never came back. Freyja searched the whole world for him, weeping, and her tears turned to gold the moment they touched the ground.

This is the story of a day when, luckily, she was not crying at all.

One morning in Asgard, the god Thor woke up and reached out his hand. His hammer was gone. He looked under the bed, behind the door, in the stable, and with every empty spot his beard grew redder and his eyes grew wider.

“Listen to me,” he said to Loki, who was strolling past looking like someone who had nothing to do with anything. “Somebody has stolen my hammer. Nobody knows yet. But if the giants find out, they'll be at our gates by tomorrow.”

Loki always knew where to go looking for trouble. “All right,” he said. “But I need something to fly with.”

They went to Freyja. She listened to them from her chariot, while the cats licked their paws, and she did not think twice. “Take it,” she said, and slipped off the cloak. “I'd give it to you even if it were made of gold, and lend it to you even if it were made of silver.”

Loki put on the feathers, which rustled like hail, and flew off towards the land of the giants.

There sat a giant named Þrymr, perched on a burial mound, plaiting golden leashes for his dogs and combing the manes of his horses. When he saw Loki, he did not even get up.

“How are things among the gods? And among the elves? Why have you come alone to the land of the giants?”

“Things are bad,” Loki replied. “Did you hide Thor's hammer?”

“I hid it,” said Þrymr, very pleased with himself. “Eight leagues under the earth. Nobody will get it back unless they bring me Freyja as my bride.”

Loki flew back, feathers beating wildly. Thor was waiting for him on the doorstep.

“Well?”

“Þrymr has the hammer, and he'll give it back on one condition only.”

“What condition?”

Loki told him. Then, to be on the safe side, he took two steps back.

They all went to Freyja. “Put on your wedding dress,” they told her. “We'll take you to the land of the giants.”

Freyja did not answer straight away. She stood up. She took a very, very long breath. And then she snorted through her nose with such fury that every hall of the gods shook, the benches jumped, and the necklace round her neck, the Brísingamen, snapped and bounced across the floor.

“If I go with you to the land of the giants,” she said, “everyone will look at me as the silliest of all the goddesses.”

The gods gathered in council. They talked for a long time, lots of them, louder and louder, and got nowhere. Until Heimdall, the guardian, the one who sees far and hears the grass grow, said the thing nobody wanted to hear:

“Let's dress Thor as the bride.”

There was silence.

“We'll put the Brísingamen round his neck,” Heimdall went on, unruffled. “The house keys on his belt, as is the custom. A dress down to his feet, and a veil over his face.”

“Never,” said Thor. “The gods would make fun of me for ever.”

“Quiet, Thor,” said Loki. “If you don't, the giants will move into Asgard. Besides, I'll come with you, dressed as the bridesmaid.”

And so it was. Thor put on the long gown, and the veil, and Freyja's necklace, which barely fitted round his neck, and under the veil his red beard poked out on every side. Loki, beside him, adjusted a little bonnet and curtsied.

They set off in a chariot pulled by goats, and the whole road shook, and the mountains burst into flame.

Þrymr was waiting for them, as happy as a child. “Up, giants! Here comes Freyja! Set out the benches, spread the rugs. I have cows with golden horns, black oxen, treasure in heaps. The only thing I'm missing is her.”

That evening, at the feast, Thor ate a whole ox. He ate eight salmon. He ate all the sweet treats that had been prepared for the ladies. He drank three casks of mead and asked for more.

Þrymr rubbed his eyes. “I've never seen a bride eat like that,” he said. “And I've never seen one drink so much.”

Loki, sitting beside the bride, smiled sweetly. “But of course, sir. Freyja hasn't eaten for eight nights, she was so eager to come to the land of the giants.”

Þrymr leaned under the veil to kiss the bride, and at once leapt back to the far end of the hall.

“Why are Freyja's eyes so terrible? They look as if they're burning with fire!”

“Poor thing,” said Loki in the softest voice. “She hasn't slept for eight nights. She was too eager to get here.”

Þrymr believed him. Giant or not, he was a man in love. He ordered: “Bring the hammer to bless the bride. Lay it on her knees. May Vár, the goddess of oaths, join us with her hand.”

They brought the hammer. They laid it in the bride's lap.

Under the veil, Thor laughed in his heart. He tore off the veil, gripped the hammer's handle, and from that moment no one in the hall felt like feasting or joking any more. That day the giants learned why it is better not to steal a god's belongings.

Then Thor and Loki went back to Asgard. Freyja was waiting for them in her chariot. The feather cloak had been carefully returned. The Brísingamen, which someone had put back together, was round her neck once more.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Thor took off the veil and did not answer. Loki studied his fingernails.

“Your necklace is a bit tight,” Thor said at last.

The cats, for the first time ever, purred.