I have to tell you, one of my favorite names of all time is that of one Snorri Sturluson. To my sensibilities it's an incomparably satisfying name. I almost wish I'd become aware of it before my son was born. "A fine job on that school report about mythology, Snorri, my boy!" Ye gods but how I'd love to have been able to say such a thing!
Much of what is known today about Norse mythology stems from two old books known as the Eddas — edda meaning "poetry" or "the poetic tradition." There is the Elder (or Poetic) Edda and the Younger (or Prose) Edda. The Younger Edda is one of Snorri's books. He was a literary type — both historian and skald (poet) — whose career was just getting under way at the time that the thirteenth century was also getting under way. He wrote a number of manuscripts that scholars have since gone on and on about with glee. Later in his life he sailed to Norway and wrote about the kings there, and was killed there.
The apparent contradiction between the terms "prose" and "edda" in the instance of Snorri's book dissolves once one understands that the Younger Edda was conceived of and executed as a handbook or manual for poets, especially those trying to knock out a poem in Viking parlance. In it, naturally, he offers many examples and thereby masterfully retells some of the most interesting traditional tales of his time. Folks of his day were rather keen on kennings — literary allusions to traditional mythology and mythological themes — so Snorri hunkers down extensively on these.
The Elder Edda, on the other hand, is primarily a compilation of the mythological and legendry material that has been culled from a multi-volume history of Denmark written by Saxo Grammaticus (his name ought to be a clue), a sober and lugubrious historian whose Latin scribblings predate Snorri's native Icelandic offerings by just a few decades. As Saxo was an ecclesiastical (church) writer, one is compelled to imagine with what curled-lip distaste he must have recorded such a ribald story now known as the "Lay of Thrym."
In this tale we see Thor — mighty god of thunder — awaken one morning not only to a new day but also to the startling realization that his hammer, Mjolnir, has gone missing. Without the hammer he is unmanned, or at least alarmingly diminished since he is a god and not a man in the first place. Without the hammer, in fact, Asgard itself, the home of the gods, is at risk. And who other than Loki — the Trickster of Norse mythology — should discover its whereabouts?
* * *
Loki learns that Thrym, king of the giants, has magically stolen the powerful hammer and hidden it eight miles underground. And Thrym will not give it back unless the beautiful goddess Freya should become his wife.
Hearing of this, Freya utterly refuses to whore herself, so all the gods and goddesses gather to bump heads and come up with another solution. A plan is hatched and put into motion. And this is how it happens that Thor descends to Thrym's court dressed as a bride, and disguised as the goddess Freya! Loki accompanies him, in the guise of a handmaiden.
These two gods in drag spend the day amongst the giants, preparing for a wedding. In the evening there is a grand feast, and Thrym is alarmed to see his bride-to-be eat an entire ox, eight salmon, all the sweets on the table, in addition to downing three full measures of mead.
Yet Loki, as handmaid, beguiles, "She has not eaten for eight days, so wild has been her longing for this day of wedding!"
Thrym then lifts the veil, to kiss the goddess Freya. Instead of offering a kiss, however, he performs a leap backwards, so startled is he by the fierce and fiery look in the eyes he encounters.
Loki again finds words to befuddle and reassure the giant, "She has not slept for eight nights, so wild has been her longing for this day of wedding!"
By and by, at the appropriate time and with full ceremony, Thor's hammer — Mjolnir itself — is brought forth and laid upon the lap of the presumed goddess. Of course all hell immediately breaks loose as Thor quickly slays the giant king and all in his court. As Viking clashes tend to be, it's a bloody and satisfying affair!
[The English word "hell" derives from the Old Norse word Hel, an underworld sometimes said to lie to the north. Hel entirely lacks moralistic connotations.]
* * *
And how repugnant must Saxo have found all of this to be. I do wish that Snorri had sent a version of this racy story along to us through the ages. Snorri quite well understood the appetites of "the people" — in other words, ours — and might have painted the story up quite differently. A comparision would certainly have been ticklish and instructive.
