“Hungry and thirsty came I to Aegir’s gold-lit hall.  Long and rough was the road I trod, and wearisome was the way.  Will no one bid me welcome?  Will none give me a seat at the feast?  Will none offer me a drink of the precious mead?  Why are you all so dumb?  Why so sulky and stiff-necked, when your best friend stands before you?  Give me a seat among you,—­yes, one of the high seats,—­or else drive me from your hall!  In either case, the world will never forget me.  I am Loki.”

Then one among the Asa-folk spoke up, and said, “Let him sit with us.  He is mad; and when he slew Funfeng, he was not in his right mind.  He is not answerable for his rash act.”

But Bragi the Wise, who sat on the innermost seat, arose, and said, “Nay, we will not give him a seat among us.  Nevermore shall he feast or sup with us, or share our good-fellowship.  Thieves and murderers we know, and we will shun them.”

This speech enraged Loki all the more; and he spared not vile words, but heaped abuse without stint upon all the folk before him.  By main force he seized hold of the silent Vidar, who had come from the forest solitudes to be present at the feast, and dragged him away from the table, and seated himself in his place.  Then, as he quaffed the foaming mead, he flung out taunts and jeers and hard words to all who sat around, but chiefly to Bragi the Wise and Sif, the beautiful wife of Thor.

Suddenly a great tumult was heard outside.  The mountains shook and trembled; the bottom of the sea seemed moved; and the waves, affrighted and angry, rushed hither and thither in confusion.  All the guests looked up in eager expectation, and some of them fled in alarm from the hall.  Then the mighty Thor strode in at the door, and up to the table, swinging his hammer, and casting wrathful glances at the Mischief-maker.  Loki trembled; he dropped his goblet, and sank down upon his knees before the terrible Asa.

“I yield me!” he cried.  “Spare my life, I pray you, and I will be your thrall forever!”

“I want no such thrall,” answered Thor.  “And I spare your life on one condition only,—­that you go at once from hence, and nevermore presume to come into the company of Asa-folk.”

“I promise all that you ask,” said Loki, trembling more than ever.  “Let me go.”

Thor stepped aside; and the frightened culprit fled from the hall, and was soon out of sight.  The feast was broken up.  The Asas bade Aegir a kind farewell, and favoring winds wafted them swiftly home to Asgard.

Loki fled to the dark mountain gorges of Mist Land, and sought for a while to hide himself from the sight of both gods and men.  In a deep ravine by the side of a roaring torrent, he built himself a house of iron and stone, and placed a door on each of its four sides, so that he could see whatever passed around him.  There, for many winters, he lived in lonely solitude, planning with himself how he might baffle