nd lastly came many elves, the thralls of the Asa-folk, and Loki, the
cunning Mischief-maker. In his rude but hearty way old AEgir welcomed
them; and they went down into his amber hall, and rested themselves upon
the sea-green couches that had been spread for them. And a thousand
fair mermaids stood around them, and breathed sweet melodies through
sea-shells of rainbow hue, while the gentle white-veiled daughters of
the Ocean-king danced to the bewitching music.

Hours passed by, and the sun began to slope towards the west, and the
waiting guests grew hungry and ill at ease; and then they began to
wonder why the feast was so long in getting ready. At last the host
himself became impatient; and he sent out in haste for his servants,
Funfeng and Elder. Trembling with fear, they came and stood before him.

"Master," said they, "we know that you are angry because the feast is
not yet made ready; but we beg that your anger may not fall upon us. The
truth is, that some thief has stolen your brewing-kettle, and we have no
ale for your guests."

Then old AEgir's brow grew dark, and his breath came quick and fast;
and, had not Niord held the winds tightly clutched in his hand, there
would have been a great uproar in the hall. Even as it was, the mermaids
fled away in great fright, and the white-veiled Waves stopped dancing,
and a strange silence fell upon all the company.

"Some enemy has done this!" crier AEgir, as soon as he could speak.
"Some enemy has taken away my brewing-kettle; and, unless we can find
it, I fear our feast will be but a dry one."

Then Thor said,--

"If any one knows where this kettle is, let him speak, and I will bring
it back; and I promise you you shall not wait long for the feast."

But not one in all this company knew aught about the missing kettle. At
last Tyr stood up and said,--

"If we cannot find the same vessel that our host has lost, mayhap we
may find another as good. I know a dogwise giant who lives east of the
Rivers Elivagar, and who has a strong kettle, fully a mile deep, and
large enough to brew ale for all the world."

"That is the very kettle we want!" cried Thor. "Think you that we can
get it?"

"If we are cunning enough, we may," answered Tyr. "But old Hymer will
never give it up willingly."

"Is it Hymer of whom you speak?" asked Thor. "Then I know him well; and,
willingly or not willingly he must let us have his kettle. For what is a
feast without the gladsome ale?"