Winterfire

Chapter Fifteen

Lif

The next day, I asked if I could try to throw Mjölnir. “If there is a fight coming, shouldn’t I have a weapon?” I asked.

I had not slept the night before. I had given myself up completely to grief for my parents. I sat on my cold window sill, rocking my body back and forth, wracked with sobs. I cried such as I'd not allowed myself to do since the first days on the ship. I knew, deep in my heart, that everything Heimdall had been telling me was true. There was a great battle coming. Thor was not just an ordinary man. I guess I'd known for a long time that I'd never see my mother and father again, but I'd pushed the thought deep down inside myself. Last night, I'd finally faced it. By the time the sun rose, I'd cried out all my fears and anguish. I'd exhausted every possible way my life could go back to being the way it had been. There was nothing for me to do but move foreword.

“You are not strong enough to even lift Mjölnir, let alone throw her. None of the other gods can wield Mjölnir; there is a Frost Giant or two who would like to try, but that’s another story. I can wield Mjölnir because I am the strongest being in the Nine Worlds. My belt and my gloves increase my strength, but no ordinary man could use them. I am unafraid in battle, which is one thing to say, but another to be. Freyja says I am not the brightest coin in the purse, but what I lack in brainpower, I more than make up for in muscle and perseverance.” He sat on a rock and laid Mjölnir on the ground at his feet. I crouched beside it, took hold of it firmly with both hands, then tried to stand and lift it. It didn’t budge. I couldn’t even wiggle it. I pulled a muscle in my back.

“I have an idea,” said Thor. “Let’s go and see Brandr.” We set off at once to visit the blacksmith in the harbor village to set the smith to making a hammer for me.

“It must look like Mjölnir, but it must be both small and lightweight enough for the lass to throw, and powerful enough to strike down an enemy, should she need to defend herself,” Thor directed Brandr.

For a long time, Brandr studied Mjölnir as Thor held it out for him. Thor turned it this way and that according to Brandr’s wishes. I strolled around the blacksmith shop three times, stopping to look carefully at every tool and unfinished metalwork I saw before Brandr finished his examination of Mjölnir.

“Long have I wished to look upon Mjölnir up close,” he said. “It is remarkable in both its intricate workmanship and its ultimate deadly power. I cannot work magic into the hammer I will forge for the girl—only the dwarves that made Mjölnir so long ago can do that—but I can make a hammer that is light enough for her to throw, balanced to fly true, lethal in a fight, and beautiful to behold. There will not be its match in the Nine Worlds.”

Thor nodded solemnly. “How long will it take?”

“Give me four weeks. I will put all my other work aside.”

“As you should,” said Thor. “You shall be paid handsomely when you have completed this task, and I will have food sent from my kitchens so your family need not go hungry while you work.”

At first, I thought constantly of the hammer. I teased and teased Thor each time we went for our afternoon walk to stop by Brandr’s shop to see how the work was progressing, but finally, Thor told me we were bothering Brandr and would not go again until either Brandr called for us or the four weeks were over.

“You are only making it harder on yourself,” he told me. “You must get your mind on something else, and before you know it, the hammer will be ready.”

Thor did allow me to plan for the hammer’s arrival, however. He said I would need strength to throw the hammer, even though Brandr was making it lighter than Thor’s hammer.