Still Thor hesitated; but Freia came and laid her white hand on his arm, and looked up into his scowling face pleadingly.

“To save me, Thor,” she begged.  And Thor said he would go.

Then there was great sport among the AEsir, while they dressed Thor like a beautiful maiden.  Brunhilde and her sisters, the nine Valkyrie, daughters of Odin, had the task in hand.  How they laughed as they brushed and curled his yellow hair, and set upon it the wondrous headdress of silk and pearls!  They let out seams, and they let down hems, and set on extra pieces, to make it larger, and so they hid his great limbs and knotted arms under Freia’s fairest robe of scarlet; but beneath it all he would wear his shirt of mail and his belt of power that gave him double strength.  Freia herself twisted about his neck her famous necklace of starry jewels, and Queen Frigg, his mother, hung at his girdle a jingling bunch of keys, such as was the custom for the bride to wear at Norse weddings.  Last of all, that Thrym might not see Thor’s fierce eyes and the yellow beard, that ill became a maiden, they threw over him a long veil of silver white which covered him to the feet.  And there he stood, as stately and tall a bride as even a giant might wish to see; but on his hands he wore his iron gloves, and they ached for but one thing—­to grasp the handle of the stolen hammer.

“Ah, what a lovely maid it is!” chuckled Loki; “and how glad will Thrym be to see this Freia come!  Bride Thor, I will go with you as your handmaiden, for I would fain see the fun.”

“Come, then,” said Thor sulkily, for he was ill pleased, and wore his maiden robes with no good grace.  “It is fitting that you go; for I like not these lies and masking and I may spoil the mummery without you at my elbow.”

There was loud laughter above the clouds when Thor, all veiled and dainty seeming, drove away from Asgard to his wedding, with maid Loki by his side.  Thor cracked his whip and chirruped fiercely to his twin goats with golden hoofs, for he wanted to escape the sounds of mirth that echoed from the rainbow bridge, where all the AEsir stood watching.  Loki, sitting with his hands meekly folded like a girl, chuckled as he glanced up at Thor’s angry face; but he said nothing, for he knew it was not good to joke too far with Thor, even when Miloenir was hidden twelve leagues below the sea in Ran’s kingdom.

So off they dashed to Jotunheim, where Thrym was waiting and longing for his beautiful bride.  Thor’s goats thundered along above the sea and land and people far below, who looked up wondering as the noise rolled overhead.  “Hear how the thunder rumbles!” they said.  “Thor is on a long journey to-night.”  And a long journey it was, as the tired goats found before they reached the end.

Thrym heard the sound of their approach, for his ear was eager.  “Hola!” he cried.  “Someone is coming from Asgard—­only one of Odin’s children could make a din so fearful.  Hasten, men, and see if they are bringing Freia to be my wife.”