“And so this midget is the great Thor, the Thunderer and the Charioteer, coming into the hall of Utgard with three mere children as his companions,” the giant king laughed, his lean form towering far above Thor’s, and the other giants, nearly as tall, laughed with him.

Behind the steadily angering Thor, Loki held the boy at bay by his shoulder and pinched the girl, blushing under the lecherous gazes of the giants, before either said anything to contradict the king of Utgard. He gritted his own teeth, confining his curses to the privacy of his mind. The sole purpose of his travelling with the god of imbeciles was to act as his discerning eyes, preventing either of them from falling into such traps and situations as this. He was the wits and the tongue, Thor the muscle and the weapon. To fall so easily into the grasp of this smirking giant was more than a danger. It was a humiliation.

Before them the giant king stood from his seat and approached, bending low to inspect the four travellers, and a thin smile touched his lips. “I would have thought the great Thor kept better company than a trio of mortal children, although the girl,” he waved a finger at her, his smile widening, “is quite appealing. Perhaps we will permit her to remain and she will be blessed to learn the value of the touch of real men. The boys are as little use to us as you yourself, tiny Thunderer.” The giant tilted his head to one side, still smiling, and his warm eyes began to gleam like fire. “I begin to think my eyes deceive me,” he said, leaning closer. “Could that beardless youth at your back, Charioteer, be the son of Farbauti?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at Utgard’s king and snorted. “It’s a fine thing when a man with woman’s beard mocks another for his own flaws.”

The smile on the giant’s handsome face curved into something unpleasant, and he brought himself closer to Loki, so the two were staring into each other’s eyes. The difference between the sizes of the two men was so drastic that it was like a grown man peering into the face of a sickly infant. One giant finger came up to touch Loki’s cheek. “How tiny Farbauti’s son is. You truly are the youngest of his kin, it seems,” the giant’s voice rumbled in amusement, the force of it blowing his own flaming hair away from his face. “What this must look like to you, tiny traitor of the Jotun, to know that by going with Odin and Thor this,” his other hand waved to indicate the giants and the hall, greater in size even than Valhalla, “will never be yours. How does it feel, Odin’s jester? Witless little wit of the gods . . .” Utgard’s king purred.

For once in his life, Loki maintained control of his tongue and merely smiled at the giant, turning his head away from the caress of the finger.

The giant smirked and straightened. “As you travel with one of our own, Thor, I feel that I am compelled to make an exception to your presence, in such special circumstances. Of course, even among our own kind, we don’t let each and every giant eat and drink with us. Only the gifted are permitted to remain in Utgard. If you and your followers can demonstrate your talents to us, little god, then you will be more than welcome at our table. Of course, if you do not, we will have to show you out of the hall. In which case, I do not think it extravagant to ask that I be given recompense for having my time wasted.” The giant reached out and easily pulled the girl to him, holding her firm with two fingers.

The girl’s eyes widened in terror and she went very still in the giant’s grasp, too frightened to move. The boy at Loki’s side cried out at the theft of his sister and Loki grabbed both his arms, using his full strength to hold the tall boy back. Thor growled, moving to stand in front of the boy and Loki, his hand wrapped tight around Mjollnir’s handle.

“What say you, Thor? Do you think yourself worthy of drinking in my hall?”

“I do,” the god spat out, holding his temper with as much luck as the boy, his muscles tensing with each breath.

“Who, then, will be the first to amuse us?”

Loki released the boy, pushing him to Thor, and strode forward. “Loki Laufeyiarson, wolf’s father, meets the challenge.”

The lord of Utgard, sitting back in his seat with the girl on his knee, smiled, putting his chin in one hand. “Let all present witness that the son of Farbauti is first to meet the challenge. And what talent, little giant, do you propose to display?”

“I propose that I can eat faster than anyone else in your court,” snapped Loki, his eyes blazing.

“Understandable. I hear many tales of the voracious appetites of growing boys.” The giant king snapped his fingers and servants appeared, readying a table that Loki could reach with a chair at either end. A massive wooden plate was brought forth, nearly the size of the table, and was set upon it, then filled to the limit with steaming meat.

The giant smiled. “Is this enough for you to demonstrate your talents and fill your stomach, small one?”

Loki gritted his teeth and nodded.

Thor leaned down until his lips were level with Loki’s ear. “Is this wise?” he whispered. “Surely if I were to go at the big one with Mjollnir there would be time enough for you and Thjalfi to reclaim Roskva and escape.”

“And will you willingly live with his insults still fresh in your ears?” Loki hissed back, his eyes on the giant. “I’ve been deceived once today, and this one won’t catch Loki unaware twice.” He smiled, then, and clapped Thor’s shoulder before stepping forward and taking a seat at the table.

“As watching one solitary little figure eat would be unquestionably dull, I’m sure you realize, Farbauti’s son, that you will be required to test your . . . talent against one of ours. Our Logi, I believe,” the giant said, looking down at Loki and snapping his fingers.

The boy who appeared was small, of similar height and build to Loki. His skin was sun-darkened, teeth gleaming in a wide white grin. His eyes were black, half-hidden by a heavy fringe of shaggy hair, mostly black with liberal streaks of red in it.

“I trust that our Logi meets with your approval, Farbautason? There are others, of course, but things would be made rather difficult for one or the other of you no matter what the arrangement.”

Once more Loki clamped back a sharp retort, bracing his hands on either side of the table. “Quite,” he said, smiling thinly at Logi, who returned the gesture with a sharp bow of his head.

There was another snap of the giant king’s fingers, and the gastric race began.

Loki plowed through his food, inhaling every last scrap of meat from the bones, ravenously licking the juices, not pausing to breathe until he came nose to nose with Logi. The boy grinned, wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, and belched. Loki wrinkled his nose and pushed himself up, eyeing the plate.

The remains of the plate.

Loki’s half of the plate was devoid of even the slightest traces of meat or juices, the bones licked clean. Logi’s half of the plate, however, was no longer there. The wild looking boy had devoured meat, bones, and platter, leaving nothing behind but the table, and even that looked rather chewed.

The king smirked and waved a hand, dismissing Logi. “An admirable attempt, Farbautason, but I do not think we need dwell on it any longer. The outcome should be clear to all present.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at the giant king, looked once in the direction of the departing Logi, and then away, a scowl fixed to his sharp features.

“Perhaps the second will show himself more entertaining than the first, and more successful if luck be with him,” the giant smiled, looking between Thor and the boy. “Who shall it be, then?”

Loki watched, arms crossed over his chest, as the boy hesitated then stepped forward. The sound he made as he swallowed travelled through the hall, and a handful of the giant spectators began to laugh. The boy braced himself, looking to his sister for support. “I am Thjalfi,” he said with a slight quaver in his voice, “and faster than any of the men of Midgard. I will show that there are none in this hall swifter on their feet than I.”

The giant smiled. “A contest far more to our pleasure than a competition of gluttons, and one worthy of allowing a boy to reclaim his sister.” There was a wave of one giant hand and servants began marking the course in that very hall. “You will pardon me, swift mortal, if we pit one against you who is closer to your size. If not, one of our men could reach the end of the course in a single stride, and such a competition is of little interest to us.” He snapped his fingers and soon before the boy stood a figure who could have been a boy younger than the mortal or a man as aged as Thor.

“Midgard’s Thjalfi, we will be well pleased to see how you fare against my son, Hugi, in a race, for both a place at our table and the return of your sister.”

Hugi bowed to the boy. He was a slight figure with hair the colour of snow, fair skin, and wide grey eyes with as much shrewdness in them as in the giant king’s own. He was like a ghost made flesh and in all ways seemed less of a man than the child of Midgard.

“This sprinter of giants bares little resemblance to his father,” Thor rumbled down to Loki.

“Often they don’t,” Loki replied, his air distracted and all attention on the two boys.

“He looks quite frail. It seems that a winner should be declared in advance, to spare the child any possible injury.”

“Appearances,” Loki said, his brows still drawn down in thought and discomfort, “are like giants, and often deceptive.”

“Perhaps,” said Thor, silencing himself as the race began.

It was immediately evident that the boy was going to be easily bested by Hugi. Though he threw everything he had into his efforts, Hugi reached the end well before he did, and showed sign of neither sweat nor shortness of breath. He even turned to face the boy as he approached the end, a smile on his face and his arms spread wide in welcome.

“That is one for my Hugi,” the giant said, “but perhaps men of Midgard need time to build up speed, even when precious things are at risk. You put on an amusing display, Thjalfi of Midgard, and we are not averse to giving you a second chance.”

And so the boy and Hugi raced once more. Loki was forced to cringe, for the second time the boy fared more poorly than the first. Once more Hugi reached the end well in advance, and when the boy was caught up he was forced to bend over at Hugi’s side, breathing heavily and pushing damp hair out of his face.

“A shame, a true shame, young Thjalfi, but your speed is truly impressive for one who is not of Utgard. A third and final race, then, to give you a chance to reclaim your pretty sister without calling on the little Thunderer.”

A third and final time the two lined up to race, and Loki turned his head aside, unwilling to watch the pathetic spectacle once more. A soft thud and the indrawn breath of the giant spectators drew his attention, however, and he looked back to find Hugi once more the winner, and the boy, no more than halfway done the race, fallen to the floor.

There was a brief silence before Hugi went back, put pale hands under the boy’s arms, and lifted him to his feet. The boy inhaled deeply, pushed his hair from his face, and pulled back from the support of the giant child. A quick look over his shoulder in the direction of Thor and Loki showed dark eyes full of apologies, before he turned his attention back to the kind, standing with pride and no small measure of anger.

“Truly the boy Thjalfi is the fastest of those born in Midgard, but he is as slow as a crippled goat running against the wind when compared to my Hugi.” The giant waved his hand at both boys, and Hugi vanished with such swiftness that it was as though he had never been.

“Now, will you three leave Utgard without question, or will we be blessed to see the prowess of the mighty Thor?” the king asked with a lazy smile.

Although it was evident to Loki that there was little chance Thor would accomplish any task he set himself to in Utgard it was equally clear that Thor would insist upon trying, especially after the defeat of his two companions. And so the trickster god merely sighed and said to the great Thor: “Be wary.”

Thor nodded once, touched Mjollnir, for luck or reassurance, and strode forward to stand before the king of Utgard, leaving the boy and Loki to watch. “I am certain,” Thor thundered, “that none in this hall can drink as deeply as I.”

“Of course, all have heard of Thor’s ability to drink, and it would be interesting to see if such stories are fact or fable. Although we have already seen one glutton at work today – ”

Standing at the boy’s side, Loki’s lips curled into a silent snarl of irritation.

“ – but perhaps you will fare better than your companion.” The giant smiled down at Thor and waved his hand, summoning a servant carrying an unremarkable horn of unusual length but no great size. “This,” he said as the cup bearer gave the horn to Thor with a bow of his head, “is that from which we all drink. Your prowess of drinking will unquestioningly be recognized by us, should you empty it in a single draught.”

Thor turned the horn about in his hands, but from every angle it appeared normal, and so he brought it to his lips, drinking deeply. He held it there so long that he seemed ready to suffocate, and only then did he lower the horn, breathing in deeply.

“Of course, only the greatest of our drinkers can empty the horn in a single attempt. Many take as much as two tries, and it is hardly unmanly, although not boast worthy, for one to take a second attempt to drain our horn.”

As Thor brought the horn to his lips a second time, his face red with anger and confusion, the boy turned to Loki. “It hardly seems possible that it would take the great Thor so long to empty a simple horn,” he ventured, looking down at Odin’s blood brother.

One of Loki’s eyebrows rose, his lips twisting unpleasantly. “It hardly seems possible that a healthy boy of Midgard, near manhood and strong in both body and mind, should be defeated in a simple race by a sickly-seeming giant child.” He tapped the side of the boy’s head with one finger, chastising. “What you see here is lies at work, something you would do well to keep in mind before you speak harshly of the actions of your master.”

At this the boy reddened and looked back at Thor, who was lowering the horn for a second time.

The giant smiled with false sympathy. “Truly it seems Thor’s reputation far exceeds his talents. Perhaps a third try shall make a difference for you, Thunderer, as it does for a handful of our infirm matrons.”

The furious Thor glared up at Utgard’s king but instead of swinging Mjollnir from his shoulder and attempting to bury it in the handsome face of the smirking giant, he drowned his anger once more with drink. Loki and the boy watched as the people’s protector drank, his massive neck spasming with each mouthful. He drank for far longer than the previous draughts and yet once more when he lowered the horn, the giant laughed.

“It seems as though the stories of Thor’s drinking were little more than fanciful exaggeration!”

“Any other of Asgard,” Thor snarled as the barely drained horn was taken from him, “would have drowned beneath those draughts.”

“Then it would appear that mighty Thor is only the mightiest of the weak,” the giant responded with infuriating calm. “Perhaps a different task will have better success?”

With one hand over his eyes, Loki groaned.

“My strength, then!” Thor demanded, wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand. “There are none in Asgard save Tyr with greater strength than mine.”

“Very well. Perhaps you would wish to lift my cat, as our youths frequently do to prove their strength? It is a little task for one with Thor’s reputation, perhaps, but – ”

“I am more than capable of proving myself stronger than your children,” said Thor. “Where is this beast?”

The giant waved his hand in the direction of another’s chair, and Thor made his way to it, reaching blindly into the darkness before him and dragging out the first thing his hands found.

The creature which Thor pulled out was to cats what worms were to sea serpents. It was huge – Thor’s head would not draw level with its shoulder were it standing – and grey, and, despite being forcibly dragged from it’s resting place, fast asleep. As Thor released it, it opened one eye the colour of green glass, stared soporifically at the god, opened it’s great pink mouth with a jaw cracking yawn, and went back to sleep.

“That, a cat?” the boy said incredulously. “I’ve seen less fearsome wolves!”

Irritably, Loki punched the boy in the arm, effectively silencing him.

Thor walked around the cat twice, as though he could scarcely believe it to be a living, breathing thing, before applying himself to the task at hand. He put first one hand, then the other, beneath the cat’s stomach, and heaved, bending himself nearly double in the attempt. For all his sweating and straining, Thor was only able to lift the cat’s torso a short distance from the ground, and still its paws stood on the floor and Thor’s attempts to heft it high did not wake it from its slumber.

“I see,” the giant said dryly, “that we were mislead about your strength as much as we were your drinking. I suppose – ”

“One final contest!” Thor demanded. “I will wrestle with each and every of your men in this hall who will dare to face me.”

With great care, the giant looked around the hall. “I can’t imagine,” he said, turning back to Thor, “that any here would face you, his pride in himself is so great. To wrestle with you would be as demeaning for them as to wrestle with a child.” He tapped his chin, deep in thought, before an idea appeared to dawn on him. “I know! There is one who might find a match with you a challenge – Elli, my ancient foster mother.” At once, the giants in the hall burst into gales of laughter, which the king silenced with a wave of his hand and a laugh of his own. “Now, now. If Thor wishes to wrestle, we will provide him with that chance. Who knows, perhaps in this he will finally attain success.”

Thor fiercely ignored the laughter that began once more, and looked to his companions – the boy was silent and Loki appeared to be increasing in irritability wit every passing moment. The Trickster was now staring openly at the king and the boy had to jab him in the shoulder before he looked at Thor. The Thunderer raised a questioning eyebrow at Loki, and the giant’s son responded with an uncaring shrug: it scarcely mattered what was done at this point, the outcome had already been decided far in advance by the king of Utgard, if Loki’s suspicions were correct.

“If this aged soul is the only one brave enough to compete against me, so be it,” said Thor stoutly, and Loki smiled in brief approval.

“As you wish, Thunderer,” said the giant, and he turned his head as Thor’s opponent entered the hall.

Elli was tall, far taller than Thor, but her limbs, though long, were as thin as twigs, boney and transparent. Her fingers were twisted, gnarled with cold weather and old age, and her back was bent nearly double, although this did nothing to reduce her height in the eyes of the three travellers. Her hair was thin and patchy, white in colour and hanging down in stringy clumps about her face, which was weather-worn and puckered to the point that there did not appear to be a single spot of skin which was not wrinkled. She smiled at Thor, revealed dark gums in a toothless mouth.

Thor gaped at this tottering if tall giant-crone. “This – ”

“ – is my foster mother, Elli, yes.” The king smiled and raised his hand. “Begin,” he said calmly into the suddenly silent hall.

Thor hesitated, as any man would at being asked to fight such a feeble-seeming crone, which gave Elli time to advance upon him and grip him tightly between her clawlike hands. Thor struggled as boney arms, far stronger than they looked, lifted him high overhead, preparing to dash him onto the ground and break his back. He twisted free at the last moment, falling away and landing heavily on the floor, rolling out of Elli’s reach.

Then, the match began in earnest.

Elli was fast and Elli was strong. She would descend on Thor without warning and he would be forced to use all his strength to defend against her and escape. He wrestled and fought, throwing each other and rolling on the ground like wild animals, with Elli always at the advantage yet never quite managing to make the winning blow or force Thor to his knees while she stood above him. Rare it was for the mighty Thor to use his full strength in battle, and the sight was one which enthralled. The boy watched with open-mouthed awe of his master, and even Loki was forced to look on admiringly at the sight of the Thunderer in his element. And although Utgard’s king had made light of the old woman’s strength, all the giant spectators were peering over their tables to watch, their eyes shining with wonder at a sight few of their kind were ever able to see and live.

The battle stretched on until, finally, Elli forced Thor down onto one knee before her, the other leg buckling treacherously but managing to hold.

“Enough!” bellowed the giant king, setting the girl on the floor and standing. “Well enough, Thor,” he said, beginning to smile once more. “You have, if nothing else, proven yourselves capable of amusing this great hall and so for this night, at least, we will be pleased to have your company.”

Elli released Thor at this, hobbling away without a word, and the god slowly rose to his feet, his face suffused with sweat. The girl ran from beneath the giant’s table, throwing her arms around her brother’s neck and covering his face with kisses while filling his ears with praise. The cup bearer from Thor’s first display appeared, ushering the four to seats, and gave them drinks. Loki stared into his, swirling it around in the horn, watching as some of it sloshed over the rim. He looked up to find the king watching the group with a keenness usually displayed by hungry predators, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. Loki met the king’s eyes briefly, scowled, and lifted the horn to his lips.

The four drank and ate long into the night, with the boy and the girl eating more than they ever had in their life, and Thor becoming increasingly agreeable to the teasing of the giants as the drink continued to flow. Only Loki was silent and withdrawn, eating and drinking without saying a word and only occasionally lifting his head to stare at the king.

Eventually the four were lead to a room for the night, and brother and sister curled up on one bed, leaving Thor and Loki to occupy the other.

The giant king who had lead them there rested in the doorway, one arm above his head. “I feel compelled to offer Farbauti’s son special hospitality for this one night he is in Utgard. Perhaps,” the king smiled down at Loki, reaching for the laces of the Trickster’s shirt, “we can find you a bed you don’t have to share with one of the Aesir?”

Loki stepped back, smiling grimly, and threw himself onto the bed next to the already half-asleep Thor, elbowing the god in the stomach. “I thank you for your unique hospitality, acting as Utgard’s maid in the dark,” he sneered, and rolled onto his side, not closing his eyes until the giant left.

On waking, the king of Utgard politely but firmly showed them out of the giant’s fortress and into the dampness of the dawn. “I certainly hope,” said he, “that you enjoyed your stay in Utgard, for to allow men of such power who are not allied with us,” he lowered his gaze to Loki for an instant, “in our hall once more would be madness. It seems,” he said with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head, “that I underestimated you, a mistake I will not make again. Had I know that Thor was one who could stand against old age herself, nearly pull Jormungand’s tail free from his mouth, and drain the sea with his draughts, or that he travelled with a serving boy of such swiftness that my own thoughts were hard pressed to beat him, I should never have allowed you to even glimpse our home.”

Thor, calm and happy after a night of good food and drink, and peaceful rest, began to grow angry once more, blood rushing to his face and reddening it deeply. The boy could only gape at the extent of this illusion, and the girl’s eyes went wide.

“Of course,” the giant’s eyelids drooped low and he stared at Loki, “I was misled by the incompetent of Farbauti’s son and his blindness to my illusions. I must admit to disappointment that a child of such promise should be bested by a simple wildfire. Now, though,” he touched Loki’s cheek with a finger, tracing it to the Trickster’s lips, “I know better than to underestimate one, even if they are one of such diminished power. Had circumstances been different . . .”

Loki bared his teeth and pulled back, his face as red as his hair. “Trust me when I say you shan’t deceive me with your inferior illusions when next we meet, Utgard.”

“Trust me, little giant, when I say we shall never meet again. A shame, to be sure – this was fun, was it not?” he said and, looking down at the four, he laughed with the pure pleasure of an innocent boy.

Thor roared, swinging Mjollnir from his shoulder, and went for the laughing giant, but just as Mjollnir was about to connect, the king of Utgard and his fortress were both gone, as though they had never been.

“Loki?” Thor’s voice rumbled in the darkness.

“Mm?” Loki murmured without opening his eyes.

“Are you awake, Loki?”

Loki swivelled the bone around, caressing it with his tongue, before putting it into the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he breathed, keeping his eyes shut.

“Are you done with that bone?”

“Mmhm,” Loki confirmed, spinning the bone with his tongue once again.

“You’ll crack it if you keep that up,” Thor said reproachfully.

Slowly, Loki opened his eyes and stared at the handful of stars, barely visible through the shelter of the bushy tree branches above. He pulled the bone from his mouth and stared at it, turning it over and over in the flame-scared darkness. “Sorry,” he said at last, carefully laying the bone with the rest of its fellows. “It’s just a little one, anyway. It probably wouldn’t do any harm if it were to get cracked.”

“Sometimes,” Thor said, with unusual hesitancy in his deep voice, “the small ones have more importance than others might think.”

Loki smiled wryly in the darkness. “The small ones break most easily in times of pressure. Then, whether important or not, they cannot be relied on.” He sighed, watching his breath puff softly in the cold night air, and moved closer to the fire. Wordlessly, Thor removed his cloak and dropped it over Loki’s slim frame. “Sorry about that mess back there.”

Thor poked the fire with a stick, making the flames jump. “Not your fault.”

“I should have realized who he was, or what he could do, at least, when we first met him.”

“In the end, no one was hurt, and the children were well fed for perhaps the first time in their little lives.”

“But – ”

“It’s in the past, now. He won’t be speaking of it and neither will we. No one need ever know.”

Loki sighed. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course.” Thor smiled in the darkness. “I’m always right. The ocean will never be the same, though.”

Loki snorted and threw a stick at Thor’s head. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

Thor poked the fire once more before lying down on the grass. “Good night, Loki,” he yawned.

“Good night, idiot,” Loki countered, pulling Thor’s cloak snugly around him and rolling onto his side, to sleep and dream of Utgard.