For first under the silver veil disappeared by pieces a whole roast ox.  Then Thor made eight mouthfuls of eight pink salmon, a dish of which he was very fond.  And next he looked about and reached for a platter of cakes and sweetmeats that was set aside at one end of the table for the lady guests, and the bride ate them all.  You can fancy how the damsels drew down their mouths and looked at one another when they saw their dessert disappear; and they whispered about the table, “Alack! if our future mistress is to sup like this day by day, there will be poor cheer for the rest of us!” And to crown it all, Thor was thirsty, as well he might be; and one after another he raised to his lips and emptied three great barrels of mead, the foamy drink of the giants.  Then indeed Thrym was amazed, for Thor’s giant appetite had beaten that of the giants themselves.

“Never before saw I a bride so hungry,” he cried.  “And never before one half so thirsty!”

But Loki, the waiting maid, whispered to him softly, “The truth is, great Thrym, that my dear mistress was almost starved.  For eight days Freia has eaten nothing at all, so eager was she for Jotunheim.”

Then Thrym was delighted, you may be sure.  He forgave his hungry bride, and loved her with all his heart.  He leaned forward to give her a kiss, raising a corner of her veil; but his hand dropped suddenly, and he started up in terror, for he had caught the angry flash of Thor’s eye, which was glaring at him through the bridal veil.  Thor was longing for his hammer.

“Why has Freia so sharp a look?” Thrym cried.  “It pierces like lightning and burns like fire.”

But again the sly waiting maid whispered timidly, “Oh, Thrym, be not amazed!  The truth is, my poor mistress’s eyes are red with wakefulness and bright with longing.  For eight nights Freia has not known a wink of sleep, so eager was she for Jotunheim.”

Then again Thrym was doubly delighted, and he longed to call her his very own dear wife.  “Bring in the wedding gift!” he cried.  “Bring in Thor’s hammer, Mioelnir, and give it to Freia, as I promised; for when I have kept my word she will be mine—­all mine!”

Then Thor’s big heart laughed under his woman’s dress, and his fierce eyes swept eagerly down the hall to meet the servant who was bringing in the hammer on a velvet cushion.  Thor’s fingers could hardly wait to clutch the stubby handle which they knew so well; but he sat quite still on the throne beside ugly old Thrym, with his hands meekly folded and his head bowed like a bashful bride.

The giant servant drew nearer, nearer, puffing and blowing, strong though he was, beneath the mighty weight.  He was about to lay it at Thor’s feet (for he thought it so heavy that no maiden could lift it or hold it in her lap), when suddenly Thor’s heart swelled, and he gave a most unmaidenly shout of rage and triumph.  With one swoop he grasped the hammer in his iron fingers; with the other arm he tore off the veil that hid his terrible face, and trampled it under foot; then he turned to the frightened king, who cowered beside him on the throne.