‘Let’s sleep here tonight,’ I suggested. ‘It looks completely abandoned.’
The children looked at me doubtfully. Perhaps they’d expected their gods to provide better accommodation. But we’d been walking for hours by then, and I was cold and exhausted. The cave – the building, whatever it was – would keep us dry till morning.
And so we slept for an hour or so, until we were awoken by a crash. There followed an ominous rumbling sound, the ground rocked like a boat in a storm . . .
‘An earthquake!’ said Thor.
‘Terrific,’ I said.
Thialfi and Roskva clung to each other. Both were pale and trembling. I made for the cave entrance, half expecting a rock-fall, but almost at once the rumbling died down, and so did the rocking movement. Soon, everything was calm again. If it had been a quake, it was over.
Outside, the rain continued unabated.
We debated leaving the shelter. Another earthquake might trap us inside the mysterious building. On the other hand, a night in the woods was hardly a welcome prospect.
‘I don’t see how outside is going to be any safer than inside,’ said Thor. ‘There may be wolves in those woods, or worse. I say we stay here tonight. Perhaps we can make a stand if something attacks. I’ve heard there are monsters in these parts.’
‘Now he tells me,’ I muttered.
And so we retreated to the back of the hall, where, in the semi-darkness, we found a kind of shallow cave leading off at an angle. It was warmer in there, and more secure; if it came to a fight, at least we’d have the wall at our backs. We slept there, but badly; twice more in the night there were sounds – a muffled bellowing. It might have been Thor breaking wind in his sleep, but on the whole I doubted it.
I pulled my cloak over my head and tried to ignore the weird sounds, but it was a tired and listless Trickster who, some four hours later, finally called it a night and crept to the entrance of the cave to see what might be happening.
The first thing I saw was a pair of feet as large as the average garden shed. Further investigation revealed them to belong to a sleeping figure; a giant of spectacular size, fast asleep and snoring.
I told Thor. ‘That explains a lot. The rumbling, the earthquakes. Seems you’re not the only one who farts in his sleep and snores like a pig.’
Thor went out to see for himself. I followed at a cautious distance. At Thor’s approach the giant opened one eye (an eye as big as a barn door and grey as a freshwater oyster) and said: ‘Why hello, little man.’
‘Who are you?’ said Thor, who didn’t appreciate being called ‘little’.
‘Skrymir,’ said the giant. His voice was as deep as the ocean. He looked a little more closely at the two of us. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, you’re Asa-Thor. And that’s Loki, the Trickster.’
I had to admit that I was.
He grinned. ‘I’ve heard the stories,’ he said. ‘But I thought you’d be bigger in real life. Has anybody seen my glove?’ He sat up and looked around. ‘Ah! There it is!’
That was when I realized that the hall in which we’d spent the night was Skrymir’s glove; a stitched leather mitten of colossal size, with an extra space for the thumb. This space was the smaller cavern in which we’d spent the night – it also explained the strong smell of goat and the strange consistency of the walls, which were neither stone nor wood, nor any other building material I could identify.
Thialfi and Roskva had come out into the open and were watching Skrymir nervously; he put on his glove, shouldered his pack and stood up, ready to go on his way.
Then he seemed to have a thought. ‘If you want to meet my folk, our stronghold isn’t far from here. Utgard. I could show you the way.’
We thought about that for a moment. As I said before, Utgard had a reputation. There were rumours of a fortress, buried deep in the permafrost, built to rival Asgard and ruled by a master of glamours and runes. No one had ever gone far enough north to find out the truth of these rumours, though if there was any truth to the tale, it probably wasn’t the wisest move for Thor and me to go in alone.
But Thialfi and Roskva were watching us, and – what can I say?
‘All right,’ said Thor.
‘I’ll lead you as far as I can,’ Skrymir said. ‘I’m not heading back to Utgard myself, but I’ll show you to the city gates. Walk with me, and I’ll carry your gear.’
And so we handed over our packs, with the last of our food, our dry clothes and all we had for the journey. Then we followed Skrymir – or at least, we tried to. But the big guy was moving far too fast, and with such giant strides that he soon left the rest of us behind. Even Thialfi, who was young and energetic, could only keep up with him at a sprint, and was soon exhausted.
But Skrymir wasn’t hard to track; we heard his progress from afar and saw the trail he left through the woods; a broken line of fallen trees. We followed the trail throughout the day, getting hungrier and more irritable as the hours passed, and finally, we caught up with him under a stand of ancient oaks; sitting on his bedroll and finishing the last of a giant meal.
Thor strode up to him, looking grim.
Skrymir gave his giant smile. ‘Oh, there you are, Asa-Thor,’ he said. ‘I was just about to turn in. I get so tired after a day in the fresh air.’
‘What about our dinner?’ growled Thor.
‘Help yourself,’ said Skrymir. ‘The food’s in my pack. I’m going to sleep.’ And he wrapped himself in his bedroll, and was very soon snoring like thunder.
But the knots that fastened the giant’s pack were deceptively complicated. Thor struggled with them without success, then turned to Yours Truly.
‘Here, you try. You’re good with knots.’
But even I couldn’t open the bag. The knots were too tight, too slippery. I handed the bag to Thialfi and Roskva, thinking that perhaps their small fingers would prove more agile, but even they failed to open the bag.
‘Skrymir did this on purpose,’ said Thor. ‘He’s been putting us down from the very first. He’s trying to make us look small.’
I shrugged. ‘Well, that’s not difficult. For a guy the size of a mountain.’
Thor picked up his hammer. ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall,’ he said, and hurled Mjølnir at Skrymir’s head.
Skrymir awoke. ‘What’s that?’ he said. ‘Did a leaf fall onto my head?’ He stirred and rolled over. ‘Thor, is that you? Have you had your dinner yet?’
Thor was so taken aback at this that he just opened his mouth and stared.
‘Then go back to sleep,’ said Skrymir. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
Within two minutes, he was asleep again and snoring like an army of pigs. The rest of us exchanged glances, shrugged and prepared to go to bed hungry.
That turned out to be harder than I’d previously thought. Even in the shade of the trees, the peculiar light was unsettling. Midnight, yet the sun still shone redly through the treetops. It made it hard for me to sleep; besides which, Thor’s stomach was rumbling almost as loudly as Skrymir’s snoring. I was ravenous, and yet I knew I couldn’t ask for Skrymir’s help in opening the knapsack. For a start, Thor would kill me, then he would probably kill himself in a fit of mortification. Second, Thialfi and Roskva were there, and they expected better of us. And so I lay, hungry and sleepless, and wondered what I was doing here, when I had a wife in Asgard.
Yes, that’s how far gone I was. I actually almost missed Sigyn.
Eventually, Thor sat up. I could tell he was making an effort but even so, stealth really isn’t his thing. Through one half-open eye, I watched as he went over to Skrymir’s side. He was carrying Mjølnir, and I could see he meant business. That botched attempt at killing the giant – and in front of his number-one fans – must have been preying on his mind. Once more, he raised the hammer and brought it down with a sickening thud . . .
Skrymir awoke. ‘What’s that?’ he said. ‘I’m sure I felt a twig drop on my head. Is that you, Asa-Thor? Why are you u
p? Is it morning already?’
Thor looked distinctly put out at this. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Go back to sleep.’
And so the giant turned over again, and was soon as soundly asleep as before.
The next time Thor waited longer, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. Thor isn’t what you’d call good at hiding his aggression, and between the mutterings, the gnashing of teeth, the rumbling stomach and the animal sounds, I could tell he was feeling frustrated. At last, he got up, Mjølnir in hand, and, striding up to Skrymir, dealt him such a terrific blow right between the eyes that birds fell stunned from the sky, trees fell and the whole of the neighbouring countryside trembled with the impact.
Skrymir sat up. ‘Is it morning?’ he said.
Thor was visibly shaken.
‘There must have been birds nesting in that tree,’ said Skrymir, getting to his feet. ‘I’m sure I felt something drop on my head. Still, never mind. I’m glad you’re up. It’s time to get on with our journey. Have you had breakfast?’
Thor just snarled.
‘Then let’s get going. My home isn’t far. But – a word of warning. My people aren’t used to strangers, and they won’t take kindly to arrogance. You gods may think you’re the bee’s knees in Asgard, but here in World Beyond you’re just cute little wannabes. Utgard-Loki and his men won’t stand for any nonsense.’
‘Utgard-Loki?’ I said in surprise.
‘He’s the King of World Beyond. What? You thought you were the only Trickster in the Worlds?’
Then he stood up and prepared to move on. His previous good temper had gone, and this morning he seemed unaccountably surly.
‘I’m going north, to the mountains,’ he said. ‘If I were you, I’d head back home. I don’t see you cutting much of a figure among the folk of Utgard. But if you do want to visit – well. You’ll find the city due east from here, not more than a day’s walk.’ And, picking up his pack (still with all our belongings inside), he started off through the woods again, scowling, without even saying goodbye.
‘Wow. I miss him already,’ I said. ‘Can’t wait to meet his family.’ I turned in the direction from which we had come. ‘This way, I think. We might reach the sea by morning.’
‘We’re turning back?’ said Thialfi to Thor. ‘After he belittled you?’
Roskva said nothing, but I could tell that she was with her brother.
I tried to explain that bravery wasn’t the same as foolishness. A city of giants like Skrymir, impervious to Mjølnir’s blows and ruled by a king who thought the gods were just cute little wannabes – this just happened to be high on my list of things to be avoided.
But Thor’s eyes were cold as knives. ‘We’re going to that city,’ he said. ‘I want to meet that Trickster King. And you’re coming with me.’
‘I am?’
‘You are.’
And so that’s why we headed east, to Utgard, and our downfall.
LESSON 9
World Beyond
The bigger they are, the harder they fall?
Tell that to the mountains.
Lokabrenna
WE LEFT THE FOREST BY MIDDAY, under that strangely luminous sky, and found ourselves approaching a bare ridge, in which three curious valleys – all square, one deeper than the rest – appeared like missing teeth. Beyond that lay a plain, and the stronghold that Skrymir had promised us: Utgard; the largest fortress we’d ever seen, with walls that rivalled Asgard’s in height. We approached and knocked at the huge iron gates, but there was no answer.
‘Somehow I was expecting a warmer welcome than this,’ said Thor.
‘What? The fatted calf?’ I said. ‘Come to think of it, roast beef would be nice . . .’
Thialfi and Roskva looked at me with eyes like saucers.
‘You think we can get in?’ said the boy.
We looked through the bars at the giant halls; the dizzying spires of Utgard. Thor hammered on the gates with his fists; yelled for someone to open them; and finally rattled them as hard as he could – without success. No one heard, and the gates stood as unresponsive as before.
‘Well, we can’t force our way in,’ I said. ‘But size isn’t always everything.’ And I slipped through the iron bars of the gate and beckoned the others to do the same. The youngsters followed me easily, but Thor, who was bigger and broader, had to force two of the wrought-iron panels apart before setting foot in the city.
He made his way to the largest hall, a building hewn from massive chunks of white rock, with a door of whole oak trunks, iron-bound. The door was open; looking through we saw an assembly of giants: men and women; old and young; sitting around huge tables; lounging on benches; drinking and making merry. Their shields were positioned neatly all around the hall; the polished surfaces reflecting the light from a thousand candles.
One giant sat alone on a higher seat than the rest.
‘That must be Utgard-Loki,’ I said.
We entered. It took some time for the giants to notice our presence. Then they began to smile, then laugh. Thor squared his jaw aggressively.
‘What’s funny?’ he demanded.
The giants only laughed some more. Thor gritted his teeth and ignored them, making his way down the long hall to the throne of Utgard-Loki.
‘Greetings, Utgard-Loki . . .’ he began.
‘I know who you are,’ said the king. ‘News travels quickly in World Beyond. I’m guessing you’re Thor, the Thunderer. You know, I thought you’d be taller?’
Thor made an inarticulate sound.
‘Still, size isn’t everything,’ went on the king. ‘Perhaps you have skills we don’t know about. We don’t usually allow people to stay here unless they’re the best at something. What skills do you and your friends possess? Let’s have a demonstration.’
By then I was totally ravenous. Skrymir had taken most of our food, and there had been nothing to eat on the way except for a few handfuls of cloudberries. In fact, I realized, my last decent meal had been that goat stew, days ago.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I have a skill. I bet I can eat faster than any man in this hall.’
The giant king gave me a look. ‘You think?’ he said.
‘I can certainly try.’
I reckoned that this way, at least, I would get to eat something.
And so the giants brought a long trencher of roast meat to a table. It smelt so good I could barely restrain myself from throwing myself headlong into it.
‘Logi!’ called the giant king, addressing a giant sitting at the back of the hall. ‘Why don’t you take the challenge?’
I looked at Logi, and for a moment I thought he looked familiar. Something about his colours, perhaps; a fleeting glimpse of Chaos.
Then I shrugged. So what? I thought. He wasn’t so big. I was sure I could take him.
Utgard-Loki seated us on opposite sides of the trencher. The general idea was that we should eat from the trencher as fast as we could, and when we ran out of meat we’d see who had made the most progress.
Well, it started out all right. Thialfi and Roskva were cheering. I just got my head down and ate as fast as I possibly could. I couldn’t ever remember a time when I’d been as hungry, and Logi – whatever his name was – had presumably not missed any meals.
I only raised my head when I met the guy in the middle, and for a moment it looked as if the race had been a dead heat. Then Utgard-Loki pointed out that, although I’d eaten the meat from the bones, Logi had eaten the bones as well – and most of the trencher.
‘Nice try, loser,’ Logi said, and slouched back to his table.
Thialfi and Roskva hung their heads.
I gave Utgard-Loki a look. I really didn’t like the guy. It wasn’t just that manner of his, or the fact that he shared one of my names, there was something about him that wasn’t right; something in his colours. I tried to see them properly, using the rune Bjarkán, but the hall was so full of reflections from the giants’ polished shields that I couldn’t be sure of anything
. One thing I did know – he was tricky. Tricky, and maybe dangerous.
The giant king looked at Thialfi. ‘You look like one of the Folk,’ he said. ‘Is there something you can do that might be entertaining?’
‘I can run,’ said Thialfi. ‘Back home, I’ve never been beaten.’
Utgard-Loki looked sceptical. ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘A race! We’ll try you against young Hugi.’ He beckoned to one of the younger giants who had been watching. ‘Let’s go outside and see who wins.’
There was a long, broad strip of grass right behind Utgard-Loki’s hall. ‘This is where we play sports,’ said the king. ‘Let’s see what this young man can do.’
The race was in three stages. During the first stage, Thialfi ran well, but Hugi reached the end of the track in time to turn and welcome him.
‘Not bad,’ said Utgard-Loki. ‘Now you’ve had a chance to see Hugi run, perhaps you’ll make an effort next time.’
The second time, Thialfi sprinted even faster. I could see the effort in his face; his feet barely seemed to touch the ground. And yet Hugi ran faster; this time he reached the end of the track and waved at Thialfi as he approached.
Utgard-Loki smiled. ‘That’s not bad for one of the Folk. But I think you’ll have to do something quite special this time if you want to match Hugi.’
Thialfi prepared for a third race. This time, if anything, I thought he managed to run even faster. But Hugi was faster still – a blur – reaching the end long before Thialfi was even halfway.
‘Brave try,’ said Hugi to Thialfi. ‘But I think we all know who the winner is here.’
Now Thor, who had watched all this with clenched teeth, strode up to Utgard-Loki. I knew the signs better than most: the Thunderer was losing patience.
‘Oh, it’s you, Asa-Thor,’ said the king. ‘Have you a skill you’d like to display? I’ve heard all kinds of fanciful tales, but seeing your companions, I’m rather inclined to dismiss what I’ve heard. It’s easy to swagger among the Folk and impress them with your boasting. But to pit you against real men . . .’
Thor snarled: ‘I’ll gladly out-drink any of you.’
The giant king raised an eyebrow. ‘A drinking contest? Really?’ he said. ‘I’m warning you, we’re serious drinkers in Utgard. Come winter, when the light goes, there isn’t much else to do here.’
The Gospel of Loki Page 14
