The journey began in the high halls of Asgard, where the thunder god Thor, ever restless and seeking to test his strength against the ancient enemies of the gods, decided to travel to Jötunheimr, the land of the giants. Accompanying him was the trickster Loki, whose wit was as sharp as Thor’s hammer was heavy. They traveled in Thor’s chariot, pulled by the two supernatural goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr. As they descended from the heavens toward the world of men, Midgard, they sought shelter at the home of a peasant family. It was here that Thor took the young boy Þjálfi and his sister Röskva into his service after a mishap involving the goats’ bones. With this small company, the god of thunder set his sights on the eastern horizon, toward the cold and jagged peaks of the Jotunheimen mountains.
After crossing the great ocean that surrounds Midgard, the party arrived at the edge of a vast, dark forest. The air grew thin and biting, and the trees loomed like silent sentinels watching the divine intruders. They walked for the entire day, the sun barely piercing the thick canopy of pine and fir. As twilight descended, the group realized they were lost in a wilderness far more immense than anything they had encountered in the lands of men or gods. They needed a place to rest, for the chill of the Jötunn realm was beginning to seep into their very marrow. In the deepening gloom, they stumbled upon a structure of immense proportions. It was a hall unlike any other, with a wide opening that took up the entire width of one end. There were no doors, no windows, and no furniture—just a vast, echoing space that seemed to offer a strange, hollow sanctuary.
Exhausted and unnerved by the silence of the forest, Thor and his companions crawled deep into the structure. They found a smaller side chamber off to the right and huddled together there for warmth. However, sleep did not come easily. In the middle of the night, the ground began to heave and tremble as if the earth itself were being torn asunder. A thunderous sound, rhythmic and deafening, echoed through the walls of their shelter. It was not the sound of a storm, but something deeper—a guttural vibration that shook the teeth in their heads. Thor, fearing an attack, stood guard at the entrance of the side chamber with his hammer, Mjölnir, gripped tightly in his calloused hands. He waited for a foe to emerge from the darkness, but nothing came except the continuous, earth-shaking roar.
At first light, Thor stepped out of the structure to investigate the source of the noise. To his amazement, he saw a figure lying on the ground nearby. It was a giant of such staggering proportions that his head seemed to reach the lower clouds. The 'thunder' Thor had heard all night was merely the giant’s snoring. The giant awoke, and as he stood up, he towered over the trees, casting a shadow that swallowed the clearing. Unlike many of the hostile Jötnar Thor had encountered, this giant seemed jovial, if somewhat condescending. He introduced himself as Skrymir, which means 'the big-looking one.' Skrymir looked around the clearing and asked if the small travelers had seen his glove. Before Thor could answer, the giant reached down and picked up the 'hall' they had slept in. To their horror and embarrassment, Thor and his companions realized they had spent the night inside the thumb of the giant’s discarded glove.
Skrymir suggested that they travel together, noting that his destination was the same as theirs—the great fortress of Utgard. He offered to carry their provisions in his own massive leather bag to make their journey easier. Thor, perhaps still stunned by the revelation of the glove, agreed. For the rest of the day, they struggled to keep pace with the giant’s massive strides. When evening came, Skrymir settled beneath a great oak tree and prepared to sleep. He tossed the bag of food to Thor, telling him to help himself and his companions while he took a nap. However, when Thor attempted to open the bag, he found the thongs tied in knots that defied even his god-like strength. No matter how he pulled or twisted, the bag remained sealed. The giant’s snoring resumed, louder than the night before, mocking Thor’s hunger and frustration.
Driven to a state of divine fury, Thor decided that the giant had to die. He tightened his belt of strength, Megingjörð, and swung Mjölnir with all his might, driving the hammer directly into Skrymir's skull. The giant merely stirred, rubbing his head and asking if a leaf had fallen from the tree onto him. Thor was speechless. Later in the night, when the snoring became unbearable once more, Thor struck again, even harder than before. He felt the hammer sink deep into what should have been the giant’s brain. Skrymir woke again, wondering if an acorn had dropped on his forehead. Finally, just before dawn, Thor struck a third time with a blow that should have shattered a mountain. Skrymir merely sat up and asked if there were birds in the trees above, suggesting that perhaps a bit of moss or a twig had fallen on him.