Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir
A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.
The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.
Lay of Hymir
Celebrating, commiserating, unifying, wedding, blessing, mourning, peace-making, marking, recovering, suffering, winning, losing, drawing there are many reasons for drinking and drinking is a thing that they do, do gods. Being a God is a reason for drinking and there had been so many reasons as of lately. There was no drink now. This was a first for the gods, something new. Something not good at all to endure, especially if there might be a few hours of it. This was something to drink to commiserate in fact, if there had been any drink to be drinking with, but there wasn’t any; no ale, no wine, no porter, no mead, no nothing to be drinking with.
Thor was especially upset. Upset for the others he said, but he was definitely turning red; redder than to be expected even when drink-filled. This was anger, desperate anger and he had an idea. To go to Aegir who always had beer. All of the Gods would be following and then all of them would be getting together on his call and would be drinking, drinking. Tyr went with him.
They went to Aegir’s hall beneath Hlesey over by Rocking Oceans deep beneath they went and to Aegir they went.
The dipped blood of the small animal swiftly killed had splattered to send them here, rune-shine in moonshine had told them of Aegir.
We have food, food a plenty, they said, feasts of it, but with nothing to drink with it they choked on it, it all is so dry on the throat without ale with it. All the Gods know this.
These feasts they could bring to him. Share with him, all of the Gods.
He had sent all his beer and all of the Gods and the Goddesses together was quite a lot. Not to mention they drink a lot. What, could they brew it in? Nothing would hold enough, quick enough, big enough.
There was a look in the eye of the Thunder God that would cause all of a serpent hoard to quail and subside. Aegir had been eyed. The hammer was thrumming, the whetstone was sparking, the shackles were rising; Aegir nearly blinded.
Tyr had an idea, it was his turn now. For long ago far away father the giant Hymer he had a cauldron that brewed beer. It was the biggest thing a God could imagine and Gods could imagine quite well. It was miles deep, we shall fetch it. Well said Aegir now, if you fetch it I shall brew in it. This was expected and recollected as they went for it.
Far over lands and seas did they travel. Away to the east, beyond the stormy waves of the Elivagar; eleven rivers of oceans of rocking wild waters.
One-hand as they travelled explained that his father the giant grisly Hymir had a cauldron that would do the trick, five miles deep it was but we already knew that so conversation was limited until they were nearer.
At Egil’s farm the goats were left and at last in search of the Water Whirler they spied now a mountain stood close to the sea.
Tyr now had a warning to give of how they might meet his grandmother, she who had heads a plenty, really too many and even Thor might be wary of all nine hundred of her heads, this is what was said.
In they sped anyway and if Thor had a slight tremble it was best not to mention and there in the halls there were many a fine cauldron. Stairs could be heard thundering plenty soon the door would be opening. Nine-Hundred-Head would be biting them dead.
Backing up smartly the two gods were a tight knit party and they headed without looking right into a shelf unit. There were the cauldrons the myriad cauldrons, buckets and barrels and boilers and brew bins, every one of them massive and of the thickest strong clay. They all were gigantic and stacked up to the back roof.
All of them tumbled as the shelving gave way. One and by one by one by one by one on down, down fell each cauldron, smashing on the heads they hit as they tumbled on two Gods below them. Banging and crashing and cracking and damaging.
Nothing was left of this selection of brewing items, and little was left of the senses and sensibility of these two, groggy to say the least. Then down fell the last. This was the daddy of the lot of them, it fell right onto them.
This was the actual cauldron, the actual one, this is the reason they had gone and it had just fell upon. It really did cover them They were in to depths of the bottom of a cauldron five miles deep and they howled with an echo that reached, well, everywhere actually, it far reached.
Then. There were footsteps, this was the Grandmother, nearing the cauldron, they quaked at the thought and were looking for somewhere bigger to hide. She was lifting it, steadily lifting, she knew what was inside.
It wasn’t the grandmother, it was the mother, they were looking right at her. She only had one head, had rather beautiful features, with a skin more wonderful than the whitest of flowers. This pale lady she laughed sweetly and welcomed Thor here with quite honeyed words.
Thor was all of a tremor. All she wore was golden and she was all of a glimmer. Necklaces, jewellery were all she had on her.
Even better, she had beer. She filled for them over and over great golden goblets brimming with beer. Good beer.
Then Hymer came home. He was here from his hunting and carried many dead trophies, with icicles all down his beard and his eyes filled with mist.
She sat them quickly behind an oak pillar so to introduce them slowly. She announced of their son being here and named his friend here as Veur. Hymir stared at them baleful, glared at them firefully and as his ice beard was melting the prop that hid them was smouldering. Above it was another shelf and as it gave way more cauldrons fell. One by one they all smashed on Thor’s head.
How Hymir laughed and called for three oxen. Thor he ate two with lots of beer then they all slept.
As Thor has such an appetite it was felt they must hunt. Fishing was the wish of them and Hymir sent him for bait. Off came the head of the best bull of the lot of them; Heaven Springer died with a snap of his horns as Thor took him for a lure.
Veur/Thor rowed far and Hymir pulled in two whales, then was matched by the catching of the biggest sea-serpent the huge winged beast Jormungand. It was wrestled by the one so strong and then flew from his hands.
Once they had rowed back to land Thor took the boat in hand and also the great whales and dragging them with the boat by their huge tails he went in for breakfast.
If you are so strong my friend then take this glass goblet and let it be wrenched apart. Thor took it and threw it, it bounced off a stone pillar and fell perfect to the floor there. How Hymir laughed, then his wife whispered (for she had a soft spot for Thor) to let his head be the target. That smashed it, Hymir Hard-head was hit upon head by the goblet and the glass smashed upon it much to his anger.
What is mine is yours he said as the strength of him left him, the power of the glass thing was what had held him, it, broken now, drained him he had to give in.
He gifted his last mighty cauldron and with it the brewing words. Tyr went to pick it up and with all of his one-hand strength he managed to wobble it while Thor tried and swing it up over his shoulder to perch there and he wandered. They left there. Left Hymir with his anger.
He could not just let them he sent a whole army after them, every one of the many-headed, the men who were monsters, the Giants of Hymir.
Thor saw them all coming and set too with Mjolnir one by one topping them, hitting head after head so before they were even near him the lot of them were dead.
There is more to this story but let us just finish with, the Gods had a great party.
Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir