Wassail! For the first time in a long time, I have written a mythological story poem in stanzas of fornyrðislag. As the title indicates, it’s the one where Thor visits a mysterious king named Utgardaloki and attempts some challenges within his hall. It’s the longest mythological story in Snorri’s Edda, by far, which is why I had not rushed to turn it into a poem before! My whole poem is 66 stanzas, and I’ll run it over four months, either 16 or 17 stanzas at a time. Enjoy!

Thor is mightiest
as Thunderer of the Æsir,
yet the wicked work
he once had faced
of a cunning etin’s
crafty magic.
Give now a hearing
to my noble tale.

Once at one time,
the well-bearded Thor
went driving in his chariot,
drawn by two goats,
along with Loki
on his long journey.
They arrived at evening
at a rustic farm.

Its yeoman offered
the use of his lodgings,
and Sönnung then made
his supper ready.
His goats he slaughtered,
both goats indeed!
He removed the skins
and the meat was boiled.

The fierce one invited
that family to join him
for that feast of flesh:
the father, the mother,
the daughter Röskva,
and doughty Thjálfi,
their only son.
They ate their fill.

The goatskins spread out,
that good family
was to toss the bones
to on top of them.
But Thjálfi had broken
a thigh bone open
to obtain the treat
of the tasty the marrow.

In the morning woke Thor,
and with Mjöllnir the hammer,
he blessed both goatskins
and the bones atop.
Then bone to bone,
the bones rejoined,
and flesh to flesh,
the flesh rejoined

Then skin to skin,
the skin rejoined,
and life returned
to enliven the goats.
The goats arose
as good as new,
except that one
was seen with a limp!

Its hind leg lame,
Hlórriði then knew
that the peasant’s family
had not properly respected
the bones at the meal.
His brow then sank,
his eyes were glaring,
and he angled his hammer.

The father and family
were frightened terribly!
They begged and cried
for Björn’s mercy,
and all they owned,
they offered to atone.
Rym’s rage then calmed,
his wrath left him.

In settlement he accepted
the service of their children:
Thjálfi and Röskva
would be Thor’s retainers.
The goats stayed there,
and the gang then started
east to the Etinlands
and out to the sea.

The brine they crossed,
and back on land,
Thor and Loki
and Thjálfi and Rösvka
then found a forest;
on foot they trekked
until twilight it was
and time for lodgings.

A weird large building
whose one entrance
was the whole of its width,
they happened upon.
Quarters they took
in this queer building,
but a midnight earthquake
messed up their sleep.

The companions found
a place to defend
in a room on the side
to the right of the hall.
In the doorway stood
the Doom of Etins,
gripping Mjöllnir
and geared for action.

A groaning noise
and great rumbling
they heard till dawn,
then Harðvéurr went out.
Asleep and snoring
was a sizable giant,
a mammoth, massive,
and mountainous etin.

With girdle of might
and great Ása-main,
Thor stood to strike,
but stood first the etin,
suddenly awaking.
Sönnung then asked
the etin his name,
who answered Skrýmir.

But that etin knew
that the Ase was Thor,
already and without
asking his name.
He asked and reached
after his glove,
and Sönnug then knew
it was their night’s sanctuary.

The side-chamber
was now seen as the thumb!
He asked to join them,
and Ása-Thor agreed.
They all ate breakfast,
then the etin suggested
they join their provisions
into just his bag.

[Part two follows next month. This poem previously appeared on my Patreon site in May 2023.]
Copyright © 2024 Eirik Westcoat