Dark and austere is the realm of dwarfs, damp and airless. It’s tunnels stretch far under the ground, deep into the mountains, an endless, murky labyrinth. Caverns open out from them here and there, echoing with the clangour of hammers, stinking of soot and scorched metal. Night and day are meaningless in this place, for the dwarfs take no rest from their work at the forges, their gnarled faces thickly crusted with endless years of smoke. The gloom is overwhelming, broken only by smithy fires and sparse flickers of gold.
An outsider descended into this realm, slipping easily along the low roofed passages like a shadow or a sigh of wind. Each time he reached a cavern, he slipped inside, pestering the dwarfs who inhabited it until they shook their heads angrily and forced him to retreat.
At last he entered a smaller chamber containing only a single smithy. When it’s two occupants saw him, they wiped their hands on grime-encrusted cloths and shuffled towarfs him.
“Help me!” the outsider entreated them.
“For what reason should we do so?” the elder dwarf replied.
“Because I’ll pay you well.”
“What do you want?”
“A head of hair spun from gold.”
“Golden hair. That’s a tall order, who’s it for?”
“Sif, a god’s wife.”
“Which god is she married to?”
“Thor. He’ll kill me if I return without it.”
“Thor! If HE’s after you, there’s no escape. What’s your name? Why do you need it?”
The outsider fidgeted from one foot to the other. In the glimmering light of the smithy fire, his eyes darted about, his smirking face smooth as a snake.
“I’m Loki. I need it to replace all of Sif’s hair because I cut it off while she was asleep, and dumped it in a midden.”
The dwarfs nudged each other and turned away, murmuring. The younger one hissed over his shoulder, “That’s disgusting, why did you do it?”. “Mind your own business,” Loki snapped. “But I’ll pay you this whole bag of silver - if your skills are up to the task.”
The dwarfs bristled. “You’re not questioning our mastery, are you?” said the elder. “Don’t you realise? We are the renowned Ivaldi’s sons. We can make anything anyone desires and fashion it even better than their most extravagant fantasy. No one can rival our craftsmanship. Stand aside, Loki, while we get to work.”
Loki rooted himself to the floor of the rock chamber and waited. Ivaldi’s sons shut themselves away in their forge. Eventually they emerged bearing an enormous box, overflowing with a drift of finely wrought, golden strands. As they carried it towards Loki, the gold rippled gently, like seaweed under water.
Loki peered at it and slipped his long fingers through it’s mass, gasping at the silky texture. “It’s good, I’ll take it. Here’s the promised fee.”
The younger of Ivaldi’s sons snatched the bag of silver from him and tipped it onto the floor. The two dwarfs counted it carefully and conferred again. Then the elder said, “You’ve paid us generously, Loki. For the same price, we’re willing to throw in something else. Say what you want.”
Loki sniffed, scratched himself and shrugged. “You’ll be in trouble with the other gods for bringing Thor’s wife a treasure and nothing for the rest of them.” said the elder dwarf. “Who’s most likely to vent their anger on you?”. Loki considered, then said “Odin, he reckons his wisdom entitles him to even more tribute than Thor’s brawn.” “Then we’ll make something for him too.” said Ivaldi’s sons.
They went back into their workshop and hammered feverishly again. When they emerged, they brought out not one, but two treasures. The first was a superbly fashioned spear. It’s iron head was welded into swirling patterns like the branches of the world tree, Yggdrasil. It’s oaken shaft, inlayed with silver bands, was so long that even the tallest mortal man would have to crane his head to see it’s end.
“Give this to Odin, tell him it’s in honour of his dominion over battle.” the elder dwarf said. “It’s name is Gungnir. We guarantee it will never fail him or stop in it’s thrust.”. Loki took it then sneered at the younger dwarf. “And what’s that trinket you’re clutching?”
Into Loki’s outstretched hand, he dropped the perfect replica of a ship, no longer than a mortal’s finger, complete with miniature oars and sail. “Give this to Frey. Mortals are always heaping praise onto him, so no doubt he’ll feel entitled to a treasure too. It’s name is Skidbladnir, don’t be fooled by appearances, this is no model but a real ship, folded up for easy carrying. When Frey wants to go sailing, it will immediately transform to a full-sized vessel and it will always catch a fair wind.”.
Loki snatched up the three items, balancing them awkwardly in his arms. Then he turned his back on Ivaldi’s sons and staggered away with his load, into the gloomy passages.
However, he could not find a clear route out. He made steep descents, rounded convoluted corners, then climbed a flight of rough-hewn steps right up through the murky heart of the mountain. He saw no glimpse of daylight, only more chambers and caverns.
At last, he accosted another dwarf and asked directions. “I won’t tell you,” the dwarf replied, “until you’ve told me something first. What’s that you’re carrying?”. “The best handiwork in all the worlds.” said Loki. “Who says so?” demanded the dwarf. “Ivaldi’s sons.” replied Loki. “And who are you to believe them?” the dwarf inquired. “I live amongst the gods,” Loki answered, and he told the dwarf his name.
“Well Loki, you gods’ arse-licker,” said the dwarf, “My name’s Brokk and I can tell you unequivocally that Ivaldi’s sons are wrong. My brother and I can make far finer treasures than them.”. Loki raised his eyebrows scornfully, “Liar!” he exclaimed. “Insulting me are you?” cried Brokk. “I tell you what Loki, we’ll get to work straight away in our smithy. The gods themselves can judge us. And if they prefer our treasures over yours, my brother and I will have your head. There, that’s a formal wager, shake hands on it.”.
“I can’t.” said Loki. “My hands are full.”. “You’re not getting out of this so easily,” said Brokk, “whether you agree or not, the wager’s on.”. “I can’t be bothered to argue,” Loki replied, “but we agreed another deal, before you started drivelling on about unwanted wagers. I told you what I’m carrying, so you’ve got to reveal how I can get out of this loathsome mountain where you and your kind lurk like slugs.”.
Brokk laughed in his face and told him. Loki stumbled away, still holding his treasures. But as soon as he was out of sight, he put the treasures down, transformed into a horsefly then flew back into Brokk’s cavern and alighted himself on the lintel of the smithy.
Brokk had gone back inside to tell his brother, Eitri, about Loki and the wager. The two dwarfs discussed the situation at considerable length, rubbing their twisted hands together as their ideas grew. Finally, Eitri said, “Make a start on the hog, while I nip out to fetch some bits of metal.”. He pulled out a hunk of rawhide from a wooden chest, muttered some obscure words over it and tossed it into the furnace. Brokk got to work on the bellows. Eitri watched as the fire flared up, then scurried away down a low tunnel.
Loki buzzed down onto Brokk’s arm and bit him hard. Brokk swore, brushed away the fly and continued squeezing. Loki crawled down onto Brokk’s fingers where they gripped the bellows, and bit him several times more. Brokk didn’t react, but just carried on sweating over his work. Loki flew off and perched on the rough cavern wall.
As Eitri returned, Brokk pulled the forged rawhide from the furnace. At once, it sprang to life as a gigantic boar, covered snout-to-tail in gleaming golden bristles. “I name it Gullinborsti,” he said. “It can run across sky and sea faster than any horse, and it’s bristles will light up the night. It’s for Frey.”.
Eitri nodded approvingly and tossed a nugget of gold into the fire. Brokk set to work on the bellows again, while Eitri went out on another errand. As Brokk blew up his flames, twice as hard as before, Loki flew over and bit his neck - also twice as hard. Brokk ignored him and kept dilligently at his work. As soon as Eitri came back, Brokk pulled a second treasure from the furnace - a splendid golden ring. “Behold, Draupnir.” he said. “Every ninth night, it will spew out eight more gold rings, each one equally heavy. We’ll give it to Odin.”.
“Nice.” said Eitri. “Now try this.”. He threw a lump of iron into the flames, then sat down on his stool. Brokk got back to the bellows. Loki buzzed around the cavern, then settled on Brokk’s eyebrow. He crawled down onto one of the dwarf’s eyelids and bit them both viciously. Blood spurted and dripped into Brokk’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. “Keep blowing, brother.” Eitri urged. So Brokk worked on. At last he drew from the furnace a magnificent iron hammer head, polished as richly as silver, deeply carved with mysterious flowing designs, so heavy that he could scarcely carry it. He nailed it to a thick shaft of ash wood.
“I name this Mjolnir,” he said. “It will never fail to hit it’s target, and it can be thrown to any distance required, yet always return to it’s master’s hand. We’ll present it to Thor.”. The two dwarfs scooped up their handiwork, then hastened out, hard on the heels of Loki.
In Asgard, Odin had hauled Loki up before the gods’ assembly. He was accused of stealing Sif’s hair and thus desecrating her transcendent beauty. Loki neither feigned his innocence nor admitted his guilt. Instead, he laid the treasures made by Ivaldi’s sons before Odin’s feet. “Inside this box,” he said, “You will find my vindication for this deed. It contains far better hair than Sif lost, made of dwarfs’ gold. She’ll love it and so will Thor. I have a marvellous gift for you too, All-Father, and also one for Frey.”. Odin didn’t even glance at the treasures. He said “Any gift from you is bound to be treacherous, Loki; and one made by the dwarfs will be even worse.”.
Loki had no chance to argue, for at that moment there was great commotion as Brokk and Eitri burst in. They marched up to Odin and bowed deeply before him, laying their own treasures at his feet. Brokk said “Forgive us for intruding, my lord, but we have come to help you arrange the perfect penalty for this scoundrel. He has already accepted a wager…”. “I haven’t.” cried Loki, but no one heeded him. “…a wager,” Brokk continued, “for you gods to decide whether the gifts he’s brought are better or worse than ours. Since you have not yet looked at any of these offerings, please permit us to display all six before you without revealing which treasure comes from whom. Then let each god examine his gifts objectively and reach his own decision. If it is decided that any of Loki’s treasures exceeds all of ours, then he will be the winner and to honour that, you must spare him. However, if one of our pieces is chosen as the best, Loki has agreed to sacrifice his own head.”.
“I’ve agreed nothing.” Loki cried, but his protest was ignored.
Odin considered the matter carefully and accepted the dwarf’s plan. They said which two treasures were intended for Odin, which for Thor and which for Frey. However, they gave no clue as to which they crafted themselves and which were made by Ivaldi’s sons on behalf of Loki.
The three gods considered each item carefully, murmuring amongst themselves. At last, Odin said “It’s impossible to choose between this spear and the golden ring; for each is equally marvellous.”. Frey concured, saying “Likewise, this folding ship and the golden boar are both truly exceptional.”. So the casting vote fell to Thor.
He picked up the golden hair spun by Ivaldi’s sons, turned it slowly around and trickled it through his fingers. He nodded approvingly, then walked over to a dark corner where his wife, Sif, was sitting alone, concealed in an enormous shawl. Thor coaxed her out and gently unwrapped the shawl, to reveal that her head was completely shorn. He spread the golden hair tenderly over it. As soon as it touched her, the hair took root and came alive, falling in a dazzling cascade across her shoulders and flowing softly down her back. Sif put her hand up to stroke it, then tossed her head about, swinging the extraordinary locks this way and that. She flung her arms around her husband, her lovely face wreathed in smiles.
The whole assembly broke into applause and Loki let out a sigh of relief.
Now Thor picked up Mjolnir, the hammer that Brokk and Eitri made. He weighed it in his hands, then hurled it carelessly across the hall at the carving on a roof-post. The hammer hit the target square on. Everyone cheered. The hammer spun round - and flew straight back into Thor’s hand. The cheers grew louder. Thor turned it over in his hands, admiring it’s ornamentation.
“A very fine piece of handiwork” he said, “though not perfect, for the shaft is a bit short for a big fellow like me. A pity.”. He tugged at the ash wood handle in frustration, then shook it…..and at once, something amazing happened. The hammer extended to enormous size, twice as large as before, and the handle lengthened exactly in proportion. Thor grinned and tried shaking it again, this time the hammer shrank so small that it fit inside his clenched fist.
“An ingenious gift indeed,” said Thor, “I’m inclined to think it’s the best one. But what do you think All-Father?”. Odin replied “Each of the other gifts will be much appreciated by it’s owner. However, there is no doubt that EVERYONE in Asgard will be grateful for this extraordinary hammer. For the giants are threatening us, with each day and night that passes, their harrassment grows greater and worse. Now, this hammer will enable you to strike them down.”.
“You’re right, All-Father,” Thor said quietly, “With this weapon in my hand, I can swat giants like flies and be the saviour of all who need my protection. I agree with your judgement, the hammer is the greatest of all the gifts”.
Odin turned to Loki and asked “Speak, Loki. Is this hammer gifted by you?”. Loki snarled and said nothing. Brokk bowed before Odin. “My lord, Loki cannot deny that the hammer was made by me and my brother Eitri. And the forfeit that Loki agreed to pay for losing this wager was his own head.”. “There can be few in Asgard who will be sorry to see it cut from his body.” said Odin.
“Ha! But you’ll never catch me,” cried Loki, “for I’m wearing shoes with power to carry me away faster than the wind!”. Even as he spoke, he was rushing out and launching himself into the air. The gods stared after him in dismay. But Thor shook Mjolnir up to full size and flung it after Loki. It soared into the clouds and found it’s mark. It clubbed Loki across the head, swung round and returned to Thor’s waiting hands.
Thor pulled Loki free of the hammer and held him in an armlock. Brokk drew his knife and moved it towards the trickster’s throat. “Whoa!” sniggered Loki. “My head is the price of losing the wager, but not my neck.”.
Thor gave a roar of exasperation. “It’s impossible to behead him without cutting through his neck. So we can’t inflict this punishment without compromising our honour.”. Brokk said “True, but the head itself is ours and we can easily subdue it.”. He pulled an awl from his shirt and pierced a series of holes along Loki’s upper and lower lips. Then he drew out a leather thong and sewed the lips together, rendering the trickster speechless.