Thor had been on a journey through Jotunheim, the land of the Giants. On his way home he stopped, and camped by the foot of a mountain. He grilled one of his goats on the fire, ate, and went to sleep.
When he woke up in the morning, his goat had resurrected, as always. The two of them were waiting eagerly to get going, already strapped to the wagon. He got his clothes on, got his power belt on and reached out for his gloves Járngreipnr. They were gone. He looked everywhere, under his blanket, under the rocks around. They were not to be found. Someone had stolen them while he was sleeping.
Dark clouds gathered in the skies. Thunder roared and lightning flashed as he screamed in fury.
-By all storms and all monsters! Whoever did this, however big a giant, however fierce a beast, I will find them and destroy them. Járngreipr will be mine again, or I’m not the god of thunder!
His hammer was heavy to lift without his gloves, but he got it up on his wagon with both hands and rode up in the skies. Raging storms roared as he ran over the skies looking for the thief. He crossed the mountains of the giants, he passed by the underworld of Hel.
He could not find them.
He passed by the world tree Yggdrasil, and rode out over Midgard. Suddenly he saw a shining glimpse in a distance, high up in the northern mountains. He only knew one thing forged of an iron so pure. His gloves were there.
Three dwarves, Thjofúr, Græthgi and Sly were sitting around a fire down on the ground. They were drinking mead and laughing by their triumph.
-The iron is… extraordinary… Thjofúr contemplated the glove in his hand with awe, turning it around, bending its fingers. -A truly crafty dwarf must have made them.
-Not often we find a treasure like this. To Thor! Laughing Græthgi held his jar out in a toast. -And to his stupidity!
-Skål for Thor!
Sly said nothing. He looked at the clouds moving on the horizon, his eyes slowly widening. They were gathering too fast.
Thor’s eyes flashed like lighting. He had expected a fight, some kind of horrible creature defending the theft. There was nothing but three little dwarves. He started laughing. He laughed madman’s laugh thundering through the skies. Strengthened by anger and urge for vengeance he lifted his hammer Mjölnir. The metal burned the skin on his bare hand as flashing lights spread over the land.
The three dwarves looked up at the sky in terror. Sly got up on his feet. -Run! It’s Th…
Thor’s hammer came down on them at unspeakable force, crushing all three in one blow. Such anger was released, such might unleashed, that all the nine worlds shook. The land was pushed down under the power, down into the sea. Water came flowing into the valleys, up the mountain sides until only the mountain tops could be seen coming up from the ocean. Further south the valleys became fjords, steep walls going up from the shores on each side.
Thor got his gloves on. His wounded hand hurt a bit, but he smiled, happy to have fulfilled his oath. He jumped up on the wagon and flew home to Asgard where he knew a feast was waiting as usual. Tonight, he decided, he was going to get wasted.