The Hammer of Thor

“How far down does this tunnel go?” My voice echoed off the rock walls.

Thrynga chuckled, turning her chestnut in her fingers. “Scared of deep places, son of Frey? Not to worry. We’re only going a bit farther. Of course, the road itself goes all the way to Helheim. Most subterranean passages do, eventually.”

She paused to show me the bottom of her shoes, which were studded with iron spikes. “Giants and goats are best suited for such a road. You small ones would lose your footing and slide all the way to the Wall of Corpses. We can’t have that.”

For once, I agreed with the giantess.

The chariot rolled on. The smell of its flower garlands turned sweeter and cooler, reminding me of the funeral home where my mortal body had been displayed in a casket. I hoped I wouldn’t have to have a second funeral. If I did, I wondered if I would be buried next to myself.

Thrynga’s idea of “a bit farther” was four more hours of traveling. The goats didn’t seem to mind, but I was going crazy with cold, anxiety, and boredom. I’d only had one cup of coffee and a few frowny pieces of doughnut at Sif’s palace that morning. Now I felt hungry and strung out. I’d been reduced to an empty stomach, frayed nerves, and a full bladder. We saw no service stations or rest stops along the road. Not even a friendly bush. The girls must have also been suffering. They kept shifting from foot to foot and bouncing on their heels.

Finally, we reached a split in the tunnel. The main road continued down into the icy dark. But to the right, a short path dead-ended at a set of iron-studded oak doors with knockers fashioned like dragon heads.

The welcome mat read BLESS THIS CAVE!

Thrynga grinned. “We are here, little ones. I hope you’re excited.”

She pushed open the doors and our chariot rolled through…right into the barroom from Cheers.

Thrym!

SUDDENLY, TAKING the road to Helheim didn’t sound so bad.

No wonder Thrym’s lair had seemed so familiar to me when I saw it through the pickle jar glass in my dream. The place was a near perfect replica of the Bull & Finch Pub, the inspiration for the old TV show Cheers.

Because it was across from the Public Garden, I’d been to the pub a few times when I was homeless—to get warm on a bitter winter’s day or beg a hamburger from the patrons. The place was always full and rowdy, and somehow it made perfect sense to me that there would be an earth-giant equivalent.

As we rolled in, a dozen giants at the bar turned in our direction and raised their mead glasses. “Samirah!” they cried in unison.

More giants crowded the tables and booths, eating burgers and swilling down mead.

Most of the patrons were a bit larger than Thrynga. They were dressed in a riot of tuxedo pieces, fur, and armor that made my own outfit look positively understated.

I scanned the room but saw no sign of Loki or my Uncle Randolph. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried. At the far end of the bar, on a simple wooden throne under the big-screen TV, sat the earth giant king himself: Thrym, son of Thrym, son of Thrym.

“At last!” he bellowed in his walrus voice.

The king rose unsteadily. He bore such an uncanny resemblance to Norm from the TV show I wondered if he got paid residuals. His body was perfectly round, stuffed into black polyester pants and a red T-shirt with a wide black tie. Fuzzy dark hair framed his moon face. He was the first giant I’d ever seen without facial hair, and I really wished he would grow some. His mouth was wet and pink. His chin was pretty much nonexistent. His voracious eyes fixed on Alex as if she were a luscious plate of cheeseburgers.

“My queen has arrived!” Thrym patted his ample belly. “We can begin the festivities!”

“Brother, you haven’t even gotten changed yet!” yelled Thrynga. “And why is this place so filthy? I told you to clean up while I was gone!”

Thrym frowned. “What do you mean? We did clean up. We put on ties!”

“Ties!” yelled the crowd of giants.

“You worthless scoundrels!” Thrynga picked up the nearest stool and cracked it over the head of a random giant, who collapsed in a heap. “Turn off the television. Clean that counter! Sweep that floor! Wipe your faces!”

She wheeled on us. “Sorry about these idiots. I’ll get them ready in no time.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, dancing the I-need-to-pee dance. “Actually—restrooms?”

“Right down the hall there.” Thrynga pointed. “Leave the chariot. I’ll make sure no one eats your goats.”

I helped Sam and Alex out of the chariot and we shuffled through the chaos, dodging mops and brooms and smelly giants while Thrynga moved through the crowd, shouting at her patrons to get ready for today’s happy occasion quickly or she would rip their heads off.

The restrooms were located in the back, just where they would’ve been at Cheers. Fortunately, the area was empty except for one giant who was passed out and snoring in a corner booth, his face resting on a platter of nachos.

“I’m confused,” Alex said. “Why is this Cheers?”

“A lot of elements bleed through from Boston to the other worlds,” Sam said.

“Like Nidavellir looks like Southie,” I said. “And Alfheim looks like Wellesley.”

Alex shuddered. “Yeah, but I have to get married in Cheers?”

“Talk later,” I said. “Pee now.”

“Yep,” the girls said in unison.

Being a guy and not burdened by a wedding dress, I finished first. A few minutes later the girls reappeared, a tail of toilet paper trailing from the hem of Alex’s gown. I doubted any of the giants would’ve noticed or cared, but Sam removed it for her.

“You think our friends made it inside?” I asked.

“I hope so,” Alex said. “I’m so nervous I—URF!”

That last syllable sounded like a bear choking on a Tootsie Roll. I checked the corner booth to make sure the giant hadn’t heard it. He

just muttered in his sleep and turned his head on his corn-chip pillow.

Sam patted Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” She faced me. “Alex turned into a gorilla in the bathroom. She’ll be fine.”

“She what?”

“It happens,” Sam said. “With shape-shifters, if you get nervous and lose focus—”

Alex belched. “I’m better. I think I’m back to human now. Wait…” She shimmied in her dress like she was trying to dislodge a pebble. “Yeah. All good.”

I didn’t know if she was being serious or not. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Alex, if you accidentally change shape while you’re out there among the giants—”

“I won’t,” she promised.

“Just keep silent,” Sam told her. “You’re supposed to be the shy blushing bride. I’ll do the talking. Follow my lead. We’ll stall as long as possible, hopefully give Th—our friends enough time to get in position.”

“But where is Loki?” I asked. “And my uncle?”

Sam got quiet. “Not sure. But we have to keep our eyes peeled. Once we see the ham—”

“There you are!” Thrynga emerged from the hallway. “We’re ready for you now.”

“Of course!” Sam said. “We were just, um, talking about how much we love ham. I hope there’s ham at the feast!”

I winked at her like, Smooth. Otis-level smooth.

Thrynga ushered us back into the bar. Judging from the smell, someone had sprayed a copious amount of lemon Pledge. Most of the broken glass and food droppings had been swept from the floor. The TV was off, and all the giants were standing against the far wall in a line—their hair combed, their ties straightened, their shirts tucked in.

In unison, they chanted, “Good afternoon, Miss Samirah.”

Alex curtseyed.

The real Samirah said, “Good afternoon, uh, class. My lady Samirah is too overwhelmed to speak, but she is very happy to be here.”

Alex brayed like a donkey. The giants glanced uncertainly at Thrynga for etiquette tips.

King Thrym frowned. He’d put on a black tux jacket with a pink carnation pinned to the lapel, which made him look slightly more elegantly ugly. “Why does my bride sound like a donkey?”

“She is crying with joy,” Sam said quickly, “because she has finally seen her handsome husband!”

“Hmm.” Thrym ran a finger down his many chins. “That makes sense. Come, sweet Samirah! Sit by me, and we will begin the feast!”

Alex took the chair next to Thrym’s throne. Thrynga flanked her brother like a bodyguard, so Sam and I stood on the other side of Alex and tried to look official. Our job seemed to consist mostly of not eating, swatting aside the occasional mead mug that accidentally flew in Alex’s direction, and listening to our stomachs growl.

The first course was nachos. What was it with giants and nachos?

Thrynga kept grinning at me and eyeing the Skofnung Sword, which was still strapped to my back. It was clear that she coveted the blade. I wondered if anyone had told her it couldn’t be drawn in the presence of women. I assumed giantesses counted as women. I didn’t know what would happen if somebody tried to unsheathe Skofnung despite its restrictions, but I doubted it would be good.

Try it, Jack’s voice hummed in my mind like he was having a pleasant dream. Oh, man, she’s so fine.

Go back to sleep, Jack, I told him.

The giants laughed and shoveled down nachos, though they kept one eye on Thrynga as if making sure she wasn’t going to smash them with a barstool for bad behavior. Otis and Marvin stood in their harnesses right where we’d left them. Occasionally a stray nacho flew in their direction, and one of the goats would snatch it out of the air.

Thrym did his best to chat up Alex. She shied away and said nothing. Just to be polite, she snuck an occasional tortilla chip under her veil.

“She eats so little!” Thrym worried. “Is she all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said. “She’s too excited to have much of an appetite, Your Majesty.”

“Hmm.” Thrym shrugged. “Well, at least I know she isn’t Thor!”

“Of course not!” Sam’s voice went up an octave. “Why would you think that?”

“Ages ago, when Thor’s hammer was first stolen by my grandfather—”