The Thunder’s Grudge (Thor and the Giants)
The sky is bruised with clouds of iron gray,
As Mjölnir whistles through the frozen air;
The mountain-kin have come to claim the day,
With jagged clubs and frost upon their hair.
The god of thunder stands upon the height,
His red beard flaming in the sudden gale;
He strikes a blow of pure and blinding light,
That turns the giants’ stony faces pale.
A roar of cracking earth and splintered bone,
Echoes across the valley’s narrow throat;
The king of storms is standing all alone,
Wrapped in the glory of his lightning coat.
The broken titans fall like mountain rain,
Before the hammer’s heavy, holy reign.
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