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Updated: June 29, 2025
Like the Olympian Jupiter, he held the thunder bolts in his hand; but differed from the more inert divinity of Greece in that, arrayed in robes of cloud, he rode through the universe on his marvelous steed, which had eight feet. This idea was characteristic of a hardy race living a wild outdoor life in a rigorous climate. Oegir, the god of the sea, was a jotun, but friendly to Odin.
"The rain appears to fall as coldly on their cheer as on their fires," he commented. "They hug the earth like the ducks on Videy Island." "And look about as much like warriors who have got a victory," the child of Frode added wonderingly. The Jotun threw her a glance, where she rode at his side. "Hear words of fate! I think that is the first time you have spoken in three days."
A great race, greatly conceived; and if to perish, greatly to perish! Don't you remember: "'Trembles Yggdrasil's ash yet standing; groans that ancient tree, and the Jotun Loki is loosed. The shadows groan on the ways of Hel, until the fire of Surt has consumed the tree. Hrym steers from the east, the waters rise, the mundane snake is coiled in jotun-rage.
Without knowing how or why, looking at her, he believed in her; and his manner, which a moment before had been constrained and hesitating, became easeful with perfect confidence. Without knowing how or why he knew it, he knew that she had never squandered her love on the Jotun, neither had she come here to meet any Dane of the host.
He made a swift gesture of throwing aside all reserve. "Enough of mystery, Danishman! If the message which I have received was not sent by Fridtjof Frodesson, it was sent by you. Be honest enough to admit it and say plainly what your intention is toward me." "Fridtjof Frodesson," the Jotun mocked, and his fiery eyes probed the Englishman like knives.
No need was there for her to hide either tear or smile, for no one of the women about her was so much as conscious of her existence. The murmur below was growing, despite the King's restraining hand; and now, crashing through it in hideous discord, came a burst of jeering laughter from the Jotun.
Frost the old Norse Seer discerns to be a monstrous hoary Jotun, the Giant Thrym, Hrym; or Rime, the old word now nearly obsolete here, but still used in Scotland to signify hoar-frost. Rime was not then as now a dead chemical thing, but a living Jotun or Devil; the monstrous Jotun Rime drove home his Horses at night, sat "combing their manes," which Horses were Hail-Clouds, or fleet Frost-Winds.
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