Then Loki protested that he had nothing to do with so wicked a deed.  “But,” he added wheedlingly, “I think I can guess the thief; and because I love you, Thor, I will help you to find him.”

“Humph!” growled Thor.  “Much love you bear to me!  However, you are a wise rascal, the nimblest wit of all the AEsir, and it is better to have you on my side than on the other, when giants are in the game.  Tell me, then:  who has robbed the Thunder Lord of his bolt of power?”

Loki drew near and whispered in Thor’s ear.  “Look, how the storms rage and the winds howl in the world below!  Someone is wielding your thunder hammer all unskilfully.  Can you not guess the thief?  Who but Thrym, the mighty giant who has ever been your enemy and your imitator, and whose fingers have long itched to grasp the short handle of mighty Mioelnir, that the world may name him Thunder Lord instead of you.  But look!  What a tempest!  The world will be shattered into fragments unless we soon get the hammer back.”

Then Thor roared with rage.  “I will seek this impudent Thrym!” he cried.  “I will crush him into bits, and teach him to meddle with the weapon of the AEsir!”

“Softly, softly,” said Loki, smiling maliciously.  “He is a shrewd giant, and a mighty.  Even you, great Thor, cannot go to him and pluck the hammer from his hand as one would slip the rattle from a baby’s pink fist.  Nay, you must use craft, Thor; and it is I who will teach you, if you will be patient.”

Thor was a brave, blunt fellow, and he hated the ways of Loki, his lies and his deceit.  He liked best the way of warriors—­the thundering charge, the flash of weapons, and the heavy blow; but without the hammer he could not fight the giants hand to hand.  Loki’s advice seemed wise, and he decided to leave the matter to the Red One.

Loki was now all eagerness, for he loved difficulties which would set his wit in play and bring other folk into danger.  “Look, now,” he said.  “We must go to Freia and borrow her falcon dress.  But you must ask; for she loves me so little that she would scarce listen to me.”

So first they made their way to Folkvang, the house of maidens, where Freia dwelt, the loveliest of all in Asgard.  She was fairer than fair, and sweeter than sweet, and the tears from her flower eyes made the dew which blessed the earth flowers night and morning.  Of her Thor borrowed the magic dress of feathers in which Freia was wont to clothe herself and flit like a great beautiful bird all about the world.  She was willing enough to lend it to Thor when he told her that by its aid he hoped to win back the hammer which he had lost; for she well knew the danger threatening herself and all the AEsir until Mioelnir should be found.

“Now will I fetch the hammer for you,” said Loki.  So he put on the falcon plumage, and, spreading his brown wings, flapped away up, up, over the world, down, down, across the great ocean which lies beyond all things that men know.  And he came to the dark country where there was no sunshine nor spring, but it was always dreary winter; where mountains were piled up like blocks of ice, and where great caverns yawned hungrily in blackness.  And this was Jotunheim, the land of the Frost Giants.