Thor's Fishing Trip for Jormungandr

In the days when the world was young and the gods walked boldly among the nine realms, Thor, the mighty thunder god, felt his warrior’s heart stirring with an unusual desire. It was not the clash of battle that called to him, nor the ring of Mjolnir striking giant heads, but something far more peculiar—the ancient art of fishing.

The Restless Thunder God

“Brother,” Thor announced one morning to Loki as they sat in the great hall of Asgard, “I grow weary of hunting giants on land. The sea calls to me, and I would test my strength against the creatures of the deep.”

Loki, ever ready for mischief, raised an eyebrow with keen interest. “And what manner of fish would satisfy the mighty Thor? Surely not the simple cod that mortal fishermen seek?”

Thor’s eyes gleamed with fierce determination. “I have heard tales of a serpent so vast it encircles all of Midgard, holding its own tail in its mouth. They call it Jormungandr, the Midgard Serpent. If I am to go fishing, let it be for prey worthy of my hammer!”

The other gods gathered around, some laughing at this strange notion, others shaking their heads in concern. Odin, the All-Father, watched his son with one wise eye, seeing both the folly and the courage in such an undertaking.

The Giant’s Welcome

Thor set out for the realm of the giants, knowing that the greatest fishermen dwelt among those ancient folk. He came upon the hall of Hymir, a giant known for his skill upon the waters and his vast fishing boat that could withstand the mightiest storms.

“Ho, Giant Hymir!” Thor called out, his voice booming across the giant’s courtyard. “I am Thor of Asgard, and I seek passage upon your boat for a day of fishing.”

Hymir emerged from his hall, a massive figure with a beard like tangled seaweed and eyes the color of storm clouds. He looked upon the thunder god with surprise and suspicion.

“Thor Odinson,” the giant rumbled, “your fame precedes you, but fishing requires patience, not thunder. What quarry could possibly interest the wielder of Mjolnir?”

“The greatest fish in all the seas,” Thor replied boldly. “I would catch Jormungandr himself!”

The giant’s face darkened like the sky before a tempest. “Foolish god! Do you not know that the Midgard Serpent is destined to be your doom at Ragnarok? Why would you seek to wake what should slumber?”

But Thor’s determination was as unmovable as the mountains. “If it is my fate to face the serpent at the world’s end, then I would look upon my opponent now. Will you take me to the deep waters, or must I find another boat?”

The Preparation

Seeing that Thor could not be dissuaded, Hymir agreed to the venture, though his heart was heavy with foreboding. “If we are to fish for such mighty prey,” the giant said, “we will need bait worthy of the beast. But I warn you, Thor—the cost may be more than you wish to pay.”

“Name your price,” Thor declared.

Hymir led Thor to his herds, where magnificent cattle grazed upon the giant’s lands. Among them stood Himinbrjótr, the sky-bellower, a massive ox whose voice could be heard from mountain to mountain.

“The serpent will only be drawn by bait that carries the power of the sky itself,” Hymir explained. “This ox is my prize bull, but if you truly wish to fish for Jormungandr, his head must serve as our lure.”

Without hesitation, Thor approached the mighty bull. With a swift motion of his powerful hands, he twisted the creature’s head from its shoulders, holding it aloft like a trophy.

“Let us see if the World Serpent finds this morsel tempting,” Thor said, his eyes blazing with anticipation.

Upon the Wine-Dark Sea

At dawn, when the mists still clung to the waters like the dreams of sleeping giants, Thor and Hymir pushed the great fishing boat from shore. The vessel was sturdy and wide, built to withstand the fury of the northern seas, but even Hymir wondered if it would prove strong enough for what they sought.

They rowed far from land, far beyond the sight of any shore, until they reached waters so deep that no anchor could find bottom. The sea here was dark as midnight wine, and strange currents swirled beneath the surface.

“Here,” Hymir announced, “we shall fish for ordinary catches. Surely this will satisfy even your mighty appetite.”

But Thor shook his head, pointing toward the horizon where the water seemed to curve away into nothingness. “Farther, Giant. We must go to where the sea meets the edge of the world itself.”

Reluctantly, Hymir rowed onward, until they reached waters where the very waves seemed different, charged with ancient power. Here, where the ocean currents of all nine realms converged, they cast their lines.

The Mighty Hook

Thor prepared his fishing gear with the same care he devoted to his weapons. The hook was forged from the strongest iron, large enough to catch a whale, and sharp enough to pierce dragon scales. To this he attached the head of Himinbrjótr, wrapping it securely with enchanted cord.

“If Jormungandr truly encircles Midgard from these deep places,” Thor murmured as he worked, “then he must pass beneath us in his endless journey around the world.”

With all his godly strength, Thor cast the line far out into the depths. The hook, weighted with the ox-head, sank down through the dark waters, down past where sunlight could reach, down to the very bottom of the sea where ancient things dwelt in eternal night.

The Serpent Stirs

In the deepest trenches of the ocean floor, where the roots of Yggdrasil drank from primordial springs, Jormungandr lay coiled in slumber. The World Serpent was so vast that his body formed valleys and ridges on the ocean floor, so long that he could indeed circle all of Midgard with room to spare.

The scent of Himinbrjótr’s head drifted down through the dark waters, carrying with it the essence of sky and storm. Jormungandr’s great nostrils flared, and one enormous eye opened like a green moon in the depths.

“What manner of feast descends to my domain?” the serpent hissed, his voice sending tremors through the ocean floor. “It has been ages since anything so savory has come within my reach.”

The great serpent uncoiled himself with movements that caused underwater earthquakes. His scales, each the size of a warrior’s shield, gleamed with their own phosphorescent light as he rose through the water toward the tantalizing bait.

The Strike

Thor felt the line grow taut in his hands, but not with the gentle tug of an ordinary fish. Instead, the boat lurched violently as something of incredible power seized the hook far below.

“By my beard!” Hymir cried out, gripping the sides of the boat. “What have you done, Thunder God?”

The line sang with tension, and the water around their boat began to churn and bubble. From the depths came a sound like distant thunder, growing louder with each passing moment.

Thor braced his feet against the bottom of the boat and pulled with all his divine strength. His muscles strained, and lightning began to crackle around his arms as he fought against the incredible force below.

“I have him!” Thor roared with fierce joy. “The Midgard Serpent has taken the bait!”

The Epic Battle

What followed was a contest of strength unlike any the world had ever seen. Jormungandr, realizing he was caught, began to thrash with fury that sent tsunamis racing across distant shores. His coils whipped through the water, creating whirlpools that could swallow islands.

Thor pulled with the strength of thunder itself, his feet actually breaking through the bottom of the boat as he sought purchase. Higher and higher he drew the great serpent, while Hymir cowered in terror at the sight unfolding before them.

“Release the line!” the giant pleaded. “You will doom us all!”

But Thor’s warrior pride would not allow retreat. “I have caught the uncatchable! I will look upon my destined foe!”

The water around them turned to foam and fury as Jormungandr rose from the depths. First appeared his massive head, with eyes like green suns and fangs the size of ship masts. Poison dripped from his jaws, hissing as it struck the sea.

The serpent’s head broke the surface with an explosion of spray that reached toward the clouds. When he opened his mouth to roar his rage, the sound shattered icebergs hundreds of miles away.

The Fearsome Gaze

For a moment that seemed to stretch across eternity, Thor and Jormungandr looked upon each other. The god of thunder saw in those ancient eyes all the chaos and destruction that would come at Ragnarok. The serpent saw the courage and determination that would make their final battle legendary.

“So,” Jormungandr hissed, his voice like the grinding of glaciers, “you are the one who will face me when the world ends. You are smaller than I expected, Thunder God.”

Thor hefted Mjolnir in his free hand, lightning dancing between his fingers. “And you are exactly as large as the prophecies claimed, World Serpent. But size alone does not determine victory.”

The serpent’s laughter was like the sound of mountains cracking. “We shall see, little god. We shall see.”

The Giant’s Fear

Hymir, watching this exchange with growing terror, saw in his mind’s eye the end of all things. If Thor and Jormungandr were to battle here and now, their conflict might tear the very fabric of the world apart before its destined time.

In a moment of panic, the giant drew his knife and slashed the fishing line.

“No!” Thor roared, but it was too late. The severed line whipped through the air, and Jormungandr, freed from the hook’s bite, began to sink back toward the depths.

The Parting Strike

In his fury at being deprived of his catch, Thor hurled Mjolnir with all his divine strength at the retreating serpent. The mighty hammer struck Jormungandr just behind his enormous head, sending up a geyser of water that reached the clouds.

The serpent roared in pain and anger, his voice causing storms to spring up across all the seas of Midgard. But even Mjolnir’s blow could not seriously harm one so vast and ancient.

“Until Ragnarok then, Thor Odinson!” Jormungandr called as he sank into the depths. “When next we meet, there will be no fishing line between us!”

The hammer returned to Thor’s hand, as it always did, but his face was dark with frustrated rage. “I had him, Giant! The greatest catch in all the nine realms, and you let him slip away!”

The Return

The journey back to shore was made in tense silence. Hymir, though relieved that the world had not ended that day, feared Thor’s wrath almost as much as he had feared the serpent’s.

When they reached the giant’s hall, Thor turned to his reluctant fishing companion. “You showed wisdom, Hymir, though it cost me my prize. Perhaps it is better that this contest wait for its appointed time.”

The giant nodded gravely. “Some fish, Thunder God, are too large for any net to hold, too powerful for any line to land. But you have done what no other has done—you have looked upon Jormungandr and neither flinched nor fled.”

The Lasting Legacy

Word of Thor’s fishing expedition spread throughout all the nine realms. The gods spoke of it with wonder, the giants with fear, and mortals with awe. Skalds composed songs about the day the Thunder God went fishing for the World Serpent, and these tales grew in the telling.

Some said that the encounter changed both Thor and Jormungandr, giving each a measure of respect for the other’s power. Others claimed that it made their destined final battle all the more inevitable, as each now knew the strength of his opponent.

But in the halls of Asgard, when Thor told the tale of his fishing trip, his eyes would gleam with the memory of that moment when he held the World Serpent on his line. And sometimes, late at night when the thunder rolled across the sky, mortals would wonder if the sound was Thor’s chariot racing across the heavens, or perhaps the echo of his laughter as he remembered the greatest fishing story ever told.

For though the serpent had escaped that day, Thor had proven that even the mightiest creatures of the deep could be caught by one with sufficient courage, strength, and the right bait. And in the ages that followed, whenever fishermen cast their lines into the deep waters, they would remember Thor’s example and dare to dream of catches beyond all ordinary hope.

The fishing trip had ended, but the legend of Thor and Jormungandr had only just begun.