"Have you indeed missed your hammer, brother Thor?" he said, mumbling,
for his mouth was still sore where Brock had sewed the stitches. "That
is a pity; for if the giants hear of this, they will be coming to try
their might against Asgard."
"Hush!" muttered Thor, grasping him by the shoulder with his iron
fingers. "That is what I fear. But look you, Loki: I suspect your hand
in the mischief. Come, confess."
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.
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