Earlier this month, while reading a book about Norse mythology, I came across a character who was described as follows:
He makes the world more interesting, but less safe. …You resented him when you were at your most grateful, and you were grateful to him even when you hated him the most.
This, by the way, is exactly how I feel about cats. Even if they could make my life more interesting, I don’t want one. Johann, however, feels differently. He’s been angling to get a kitten since the day I met him. I’ve accepted that this will happen, much like I accept death and taxes. And so, I’ve begun my preparations, taking note of literature’s biggest assholes and history’s greatest mischief-makers. If my future includes a cat, then I feel it’s only right that I get to name it something smart.
“I found the best cat name,” I announced to Johann when I finished the book earlier this month. “It’s perfect because it’s the name of a character from Norse mythology who’s always causing problems and then expects to be rewarded for fixing them. For some reason everyone puts up with him anyway.”
“Trump?” Johann asked.
“No, not Trump,” I replied. “It’s from Norse mythology. You should know it.”
“I don’t know it,” he replied.
“You should know it!” I insisted.
“Just tell me!” he yelled back.
“LOKI!” I announced.
Johann smiled. “That’s a good name,” he agreed.
“You think?” I asked. “But the only thing is, I don’t know if it’s too obvious for this part of the world. Like in New York, it would be good, but here would people think it’s lame?”
Johann shrugged.
“Like,” I continued in my best egghead voice, “I don’t want to hear, ‘Wow, you must be really into mythology,’ every time we say the name.”
Johann cocked his head to one side. I could tell that he had something to say, but wasn’t sure if it was worth continuing the conversation.
“What?” I asked.
“Well I think they’d just assume you were a fan of the movies,” he replied.
“What movies?” I demanded.
Johann slowly leaned over the table, as if to break the news gently. “The Thor movies,” he said.
My eyes widened. I haven’t seen most major comic book movies, let alone the Thor ones. To be honest, I’m not even sure I knew Thor had his own movie(s?). I definitely didn’t know that Loki was in them and played by British actor Tom Hiddleston.
What I do know, is that if I were Johann I wouldn’t have clued me in to any of that. After all the digital humiliation I put him through, I would let me go on indefinitely, working my original cat names and basic understanding of Norse mythology into casual conversation all holiday season long.
It goes without saying that I will not be naming my cat after anything as undignified as a blockbuster movie. But all is not lost from my romp through 200 pages of Norse mythology. That book also clued me in to the story of the world’s Thanksgiving. Believe it or not, way back when, the gods and the giants and the keepers of the sea all got together somewhere north of Germany and celebrated the harvest. Just like present-day Thanksgiving, their version had its share of drama: familial infighting; gluttonous eating; an unnecessary slaughter of mostly well-meaning and hospitable people… a real page turner!
And because I refuse to walk away from a book with nothing to show for it, here is that story… in my own words, of course.
The harvest story, according to Norse mythology, begins at the doorstep of Aegir, the greatest of the sea giants, when Thor, of California fame, and his friend Tyr, the god of war, showed up unannounced and empty handed demanding to be fed. Aegir, quite understandably, wasn’t into it. But, rather than say no, he did what many unwilling hosts do: he agreed to throw the party only if the most unreasonable of conditions were met. In this case, Aegir demanded a cauldron big enough to brew enough beer for everyone. No such thing existed and so he and his servant, Fimafeng (BTW: excellent rabbit name), sat back on the ocean floor, comfortable in their assumption that they wouldn’t be cooking for 200 anytime soon.
Like most men with bad manners, Thor and Tyr did not hear no. They heard not yet. Faced with this challenge, they did the most predictable thing one could think of: they asked a woman for help. Tyr’s mom, to be precise. Tyr seemed to remember his stepfather, Hymir, a giant, owning a magic cauldron that could do the job. And so off they went, Thor and Tyr riding into the land of giants in the most ostentatious of vehicles, a winged chariot pulled by two goats, Snarler and Grinder, to borrow a pot.
Showing up in the giant section of the world wasn’t exactly wise for Thor. Over the years, he had racked up quite the kill count and was a wanted man. But not to worry! Thor and Tyr, the two geniuses that they are, concocted an elaborate cover story, in which they change Thor’s name to Veor, introduce him as such and consider the matter settled. And the giants, incredibly, believe them.
Beyond the name change, Thor and Tyr have no plan whatsoever for getting this cauldron. They are forced to improvise, which is how Thor, a man who has never fished before, agrees to go on a whaling expedition with Hymir, an expert-level fisherman. How this will help him get cookware, we don’t know, but that’s how the story goes. Before they leave, Hymir tells Thor to go into his pen of oxen to gather some bait. Hymir means bugs, but Thor interprets the offer a bit more loosely and chops the head off the biggest ox in the yard. When Hymir sees what Thor has done, he experiences a mix of anger and bewilderment and frustration, but says nothing. He simmers in his resignation like a housewife who just watched a guest wipe their hands on a decorative bath towel. Thor, feigns ignorance, explaining that technically he was told he could take whatever he wanted.
And that’s the real problem with men like Thor: they’re just clever enough to be dangerous.
Once on the boat, Hymir easily catches two whales. Veor/Thor, meanwhile, complains about the placement of the boat. He rows out further until they are in the territory of Jordumgundr, a venomous sea serpent. Thor baits his line with the ox head and snags the snake almost immediately. The animal puts up quite a fight, during which Thor puts both feet through the bottom of the boat. He leaves Hymir to bail a sinking ship loaded with two whales while he continues wrestling with a sea serpent. Just as Thor was within striking distance and about to kill Jordumgundr – or, depending on how you’re reading this, just as Jordumgundr was about to spit venom all over Thor and kill him – Hymir cuts the line and the snake retreats.
This – the escape of a sea serpent with ties to the underworld – upsets Thor greatly. It really shouldn’t have been a top 5 concern for the man whose boat was sinking in the middle of the ocean, but for some reason it was. More annoying still, Thor sees this situation, a mess he singlehandedly created, as a golden opportunity to bargain for the cauldron. He offers to row the boat back to the nearest shore and then carry it, the giant and the two whales all the way back to the village. Unfortunately for Thor, he doesn’t specify the other half of the terms of the agreement – the part about the cauldron – until after he has done the work. When he announces that he would like the cauldron in return for his trouble, Hymir, of course, said no. Hymir did, however, invite him to a whale feast that night which was fairly generous considering the circumstances.
Of course, Thor, being Thor, heard not yet. After a bit of hemming and hawing, Hymir pulled an Aegir and agreed to give up the pot only if Thor could break his drinking cup – which was a task most impossible, for reasons not entirely explained in the book. Sure enough Thor could not break the cup and was about to give up on the cauldron and, by extension, a grand dinner party that, quite frankly, would probably look an awful lot like the party he was already at, when Tyr’s mother intervened.
“My husband’s head is very hard,” she hinted.
To which Thor, ever the narcissist, replied, “They say same of me.”
Bless her heart, this woman – who isn’t even dignified with a name of her own – repeats herself to a dimwit who she knows is about to rob her kitchen. “No,” she said. “He has a very hard head. Hard enough to break even the toughest of cups.”
And with that, Thor smashed a cup off the head of his host, took the cauldron and made for a break for it with Snarler and Grinder, an angry mob of giants in tow. Thor, still sulking over his loss to a sea monster, takes the time to kill a hundred of the people who had just fed him. With the annihilation complete, Thor and Tyr set off together to deliver the cauldron to Aegir and demand a party that, and I cannot stress this enough, was not unlike the party they just left.
When Thor and Tyr showed back up at the home of the sea giant, banging a pot and looking smug, Aegir accepted his fate as host with quiet resignation.
“This is indeed what I asked for,” he said. “Very well. There will be an autumn feast for all the gods in my hall.”
As the story goes:
Aegir was good on his word and every year since then, once the harvest is in, the gods drink the finest ale there ever was or will be in the autumn, in the sea giant’s hall.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, wherever and however you are celebrating. Even if it’s not your holiday, I hope you have a glass of the finest ale there ever was or will be and enjoy the spirit of the season.
If you want to read the real harvest story, which is called Hymir and Thor’s Finishing Expedition, it’s available for free with a Kindle Unlimited subscription.
This.Was.Epic! Thanks for making mythology fun, and showing that men haven’t changed at all – this could be a dare at a college party!
I think my favourite thing about mythology is that men are praised for their strength and violence and women who exhibit the same qualities (Medea is the best example) are portrayed as evil, vengeful bitches. Just goes to show you: never trust the narrator.
Years ago, I wanted to name a kitten a partner got “Strad”, short for Stradivarius, ’cause ya’ know, the rumor about violins being strung with cat gut? I thought it was funny. I was overruled. When JoJo and I got a cat, I wanted to name it Chairman Meow Zedong. Overruled again. Sigh. No one enjoys my nonsense.
I understand your nonsense. I like where you were heading. I would have gone down that path.
I grew up on a farm and one year I wanted to name my pet lamb Lamb Chops. Mum vetoed that. I like your sense of humor.
Nova, this was the funniest thing I’ve read in ages. Men definitely haven’t changed!
Oh I’m glad! No, they have not changed at all. It’s a good thing they were the only ones who knew how to write things down. History might sound a little different :)
Loki is a very great cats name, actually. I have a very good friend that breeds the most beautiful lynx point siamese and the whole family and all the litters thereafter are fathered by him. Loki… I say you go with that and that cat will be lucky to have such a PERFECT name.
Oh and yes, seconded on the EPIC comment. Great fun of a read. Thanks Nova!
:) Well thank you. We will keep in the list. The cat is at least another year out. So we have time. Also I just looked up lynx point Siamese cats and wow! They look like Siberian tigers, in a good way!