Thor’s Fishing Expedition (Jörmungandr)
The sea stretched wide and cold before Thor and Hymir, the waves churning like restless spirits. Thor, the thunder god, had come to Jotunheim not with Mjölnir in hand but with a simple fishing line, though nothing Thor did was ever truly simple. His purpose? To test his strength against the mightiest creature in the ocean: Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent, a creature so vast it encircled the world.
Hymir, a giant known for his gruff demeanor, had agreed to take Thor out to sea, though he eyed the god with skepticism. “You’ll need bait,” Hymir said, his voice carrying the sharpness of the cold wind. Thor nodded and, without hesitation, strode to Hymir’s herd of oxen. With a single swing of his arm, he severed the head of the largest ox and carried it back, much to Hymir’s astonishment.
The two set out in a small boat, the horizon disappearing into a gray haze. Hymir rowed while Thor prepared the fishing line—a line so strong it could tether a mountain, ending in a hook large enough to snare the world itself. They passed the shallows, where ordinary fish swam, and ventured into the deep, where the water seemed darker, heavier, alive with an unspoken menace.
“Far enough,” Hymir said, his voice tight. But Thor shook his head. “Further,” he said. “I seek something greater.”
Reluctantly, Hymir rowed on until the sea around them was unnervingly still. Thor baited his hook with the ox’s head and cast it into the abyss. The line disappeared into the depths, its weight pulling it down, down, down into the unseen world below.
For a long moment, there was nothing. Then, a tug. Not a small pull, but a wrenching force that nearly capsized the boat. Thor’s grip tightened, his muscles straining as he began to pull. The sea churned violently, waves crashing against the boat, and Hymir’s face turned pale.
From the depths emerged Jörmungandr, its massive coils breaking the surface, water streaming from its scaled body. Its eyes, vast and glowing, fixed on Thor, and its maw opened to reveal teeth like jagged cliffs. The serpent’s hiss filled the air, a sound that seemed to rattle the bones of the earth.
Thor stood, unshaken, his feet planted firmly in the boat. He pulled harder, his veins coursing with the strength of thunder and storms. The serpent rose higher, its body looming over the tiny vessel, its presence suffocating. Thor reached for Mjölnir, ready to strike the final blow.
But Hymir, overcome with terror, acted first. He slashed the fishing line, and Jörmungandr plunged back into the depths, its body coiling like a tidal wave. Thor turned on Hymir, his fury like a storm breaking across the horizon. “Coward!” Thor roared, his voice echoing across the water.
Hymir said nothing, his hands trembling as he rowed them back to shore. The sea calmed, but the tension between them remained thick as the mist rolling in. Thor had faced Jörmungandr and proved his strength, but the fight was unfinished, a promise left to linger beneath the waves.
The serpent returned to the depths, where it coils still, waiting. And Thor? He carried the memory of that encounter, knowing that their paths would cross again—at Ragnarök, when gods and monsters would clash for the last time.
Even now, the sea whispers of that day, its waves carrying the story of a god who dared to fish for a serpent that encircles the world. The waters remain restless, as if remembering Thor’s challenge and the creature that waits below, patient as the tide.