The Hammer of Thor

“‘Hey, guys.’ I handed them Otis’s trench coat and hat, along with all the mortal money I had on me—about twenty-four bucks. ‘Have a good day.’

The guys were too startled to respond. I kept walking, feeling like I had an ax sticking out of my sternum. Just because I’d been killed by a fire giant two months ago, I got to live in luxury. Meanwhile, these guys and their terrier ate from garbage bins. It wasn’t fair.”

After Magnus ponders “normality” in the first chapter, he sees some men who are in a similar situation to his old one. The men don’t know how to react to Magnus’s kindness because it’s such an uncommon reaction. People without homes are often stereotyped as irresponsible, as having substance use disorders, or other qualities that are frowned upon by society. While those issues may be factors in some cases of homelessness, they are not generalizable truths. Having lived as these men do, Magnus understands that they are doing their best to survive—and while many people might assume that helping people without homes only enables their alleged irresponsibility, Magnus is eager to help those who are struggling. Magnus’s guilt about his changed situation shows that, as selfless as his motives are, they aren’t purely altruistic: Helping these men may also ease his guilt, which is a normal reaction, if an uncomfortable one.

“I’ll admit that I was staring. Suddenly my whole perspective had flipped inside out, like when you look at an inkblot picture and see just the black part. Then your brain inverts the image and you realize the white part makes an entirely different picture, even though nothing has changed. That was Alex Fierro, except in pink and green. A second ago, he had been very obviously a boy to me. Now she was very obviously a girl.”

This is the first time Magnus sees Alex, during battle night at Valhalla. Up until this point, Magnus has heard of Alex as male, so when Alex transforms from a weasel to a human here and announces she’s currently female, it takes Magnus a moment to process this information. Alex later chastises Magnus for staring, believing he did so because he was disgusted or annoyed. In truth, Magnus was neither, but after Alex’s history of being misunderstood predisposes her to defensiveness. Magnus’s comparison to a color-inversion inkblot shows that Alex is the same person whether she’s identifying as male or female. All that changes is her self-expression, not the fundamental components of her personality and being.

“I understood that the management needed to keep things interesting, especially for warriors who had been waiting here for Doomsday since the Middle Ages. Still, the luau seemed a little cultural appropriation-y to me. (Vikings were notorious for appropriating from other cultures. Also for pillaging and burning said cultures.) Besides, seeing thousands of einherjar in Hawaiian shirts and flower leis was like getting a neon-paint grenade between the eyes.”

Magnus thinks this on his way to the luau-themed dinner. Cultural appropriation is defined as the act of a majority group adopting a minority group’s culture in a disrespectful or exploitative way that can perpetuate stereotypes. As Magnus notes here, the Vikings were known for such appropriation across history—and the management of Valhalla, being old Norse Vikings, continues this tradition, if without the destruction Magnus describes. It is unclear if the management is borrowing the luau with disrespectful or exploitative intent, but the scene of the dinner shows stereotypes, such as grass skirts and leis, without the other elements that make a luau what it was originally meant to be.

“‘Literally, it means unmanly,’ Mallory said. ‘It’s a deadly insult among big loutish Vikings like this guy.’ She poked Halfborn in the chest.

‘Bah,’ said Halfborn. ‘It’s only an offense if you call someone argr who isn’t argr. Gender-fluid people are hardly a new thing, Magnus. There were plenty of argr among the Norse.’ [...] ‘Who would tremble in terror before someone called Mother William?’

T. J. shrugged. ‘I’ll admit most of us didn’t know what to make of him. His identity seemed to change day to day. He said he had two spirits in his body, one male and one female. But I’m telling you—great scout.’”

This conversation between Magnus and his hallmates comes during the luau dinner, which is also where Alex is welcomed to Valhalla. After discovering Alex’s gender-fluidity, the group discusses their individual experiences with gender-fluid people in their past lives. In Norse, the term argr is an insult, as Mallory says here. Halfborn argues that it’s only an insult if used toward someone who isn’t argr, but this is a narrow line that is subject to interpretation. Throughout the book, Alex takes offense to the term, and her offense is likely rooted in the Norse idea that gender-fluidity meant someone was not “manly enough,” either because they were gender-fluid or because they identified solely as male but didn’t live up to the image of Norse manliness. Both Halfborn and T. J. speak to the presence of different identities throughout history. There is a modern-day belief that gender identities other than cis male or cis female are somehow new, but that belief is based on a myth—and that myth is perpetuated by other identities being left out of the history books. Halfborn shows his old Norse beliefs when he mocks the idea that anyone named “Mother William” would be someone to fear, but T. J. argues that the scout’s name and identity had no bearing on Mother William’s abilities.

“I’d been stuck in one gender my whole life. It never bothered me. Now I wondered how that would feel for Alex. The only analogy I could come up with wasn’t a very good one. My second-grade teacher, Miss Mengler (aka Miss Mangier), had forced me to write with my right hand even though I was left-handed. She’d actually taped my left hand to the desk. My mom had exploded when she found out, but I still remembered the panicky feeling of being restrained, forced to write in such an unnatural way because Miss Mengler had insisted, This is the normal way, Magnus. Stop complaining. You’ll get used to it.”

Magnus grapples with understanding Alex’s situation. Identity is a personal thing, and even if Alex identified as a cis male, Magnus would never be able to fully understand who Alex is because even people who identify the same way have different lived experiences. There is a myth that each identity involves a monolithic experience—for example, that all cis women experience womanhood similarly—but this myth exists because it conveniently oversimplifies a complex reality. The latter half of this quote shows Magnus trying to relate to Alex’s fears the best way he can, and while he recognizes that his own experience doesn’t really compare, his analogy is helpful. The teacher who tried to force him to write with his right hand was not open to understanding how other people do things; her beliefs, coupled with her treatment of Magnus, show the danger of being closed-minded.

“‘How can a tomb move?’

Blitzen took off his pith helmet. The gauze netting left a cowlick across his otherwise perfect hair. ‘Kid, stuff moves in the Nine Worlds all the time. We’re connected by the World Tree, right? The branches sway. New branches grow. Roots deepen. This place has shifted from wherever it was originally built. Probably because... you know, it’s imbued with evil magic.’”

This conversation between Magnus and Blitz comes before the group enters the wight’s barrow, and it offers additional context to how Riordan’s modern-day Norse world works. The World Tree is the giant tree that connects the Nine Worlds, and over time, it has shifted as civilizations have moved (a concept Riordan first introduces in the Percy Jackson series when he discusses how the center of the Greek gods moved from Greece to New York). Like the Greek gods, the Norse gods have moved with the tree, which means places of myth and history have also moved in accordance with the gods and their effect on the World Tree. Riordan uses this shifting to explain how the gods have a presence in America, despite originating across the ocean.

“You see, Magnus, my children owe their powers to me. In exchange, they must bend to my will when I require it. It’s only fair. As I said, family blood is a strong connection. It’s a good thing you listened to me and left Alex in Valhalla. Otherwise we’d have two of my children unconscious!”

Loki says this while Magnus’s group is in the wight’s barrow, shortly after Loki renders Sam unconscious. In Loki’s view, Sam and Alex owe their powers to him, and in exchange, he is allowed to exercise control over them. Loki’s beliefs stem both from his godly status and from being a parent. As a god, Loki is stronger than his children, even bound as he is, and he believes that this power gives him the right to influence how his children act. As a parent, Loki believes his children owe him, and taken together, these ideas represent the struggles children can face as they move into adulthood. Neither Sam nor Alex owes Loki anything, but Loki uses his power to exact the price he wishes them to pay, much like mortal parents may guilt or exploit their children into doing things for them.

“‘Isn’t it hard, like, believing there’s something more powerful out there than all these Norse beings we deal with? Especially if—no offense—the Big Dude doesn’t step in to help out?’

Sam tucked her prayer mat into her bag. ‘Not stepping in, not interfering, not forcing...to me, that seems more merciful and more divine, don’t you think?’”

This conversation between Sam and Magnus comes after Sam finishes praying while they wait for her flight instructor and Amir. Magnus is an atheist (as he says in The Sword of Summer), and so he’s had his own ambivalence toward the Norse gods. Even though he sees that the gods exist, his question to Sam is really about how she can have so much faith in Allah when the god seems not to be active in world events like the Norse gods are. Sam’s response speaks to what she believes makes a god truly powerful, as well as her Islamic values. To her, Allah’s absence is more powerful because it demonstrates the god’s wisdom and patience to let humanity make its own decisions and find its own way. By contrast, the Norse gods’ interference shows that they value their own view and goals more than those of humanity.

“In the same way Nidavellir resembled Southie, Alfheim reminded me of the posh suburbs west of Boston—Wellesley, maybe, with its huge houses and pastoral landscapes, its winding roads, picturesque creeks, and sleepy aura of absolute safety... assuming you belonged there.

On the downside, the sunlight was so harsh it accentuated every imperfection. Even one stray leaf or wilted flower in a garden stood out as a glaring problem. My own clothes looked dirtier. I could see every pore on the back of my hands and the veins under my skin.”

Magnus and Hearth have just arrived in Alfheim and are on their way to Mr. Alderman’s house. As they walk, Magnus processes the elven realm, finding that its opulence cannot hide its imperfections. The end of the first paragraph speaks to the exclusive nature of Alfheim. The realm is built to show off its residents’ wealth and importance and also to tell anyone who doesn’t have such wealth that they are lesser and not welcome. The second paragraph shows how trying to overshadow imperfections only makes them stand out more. The brightness of Alfheim is meant to make the realm look brilliant, and while it does at first glance, a closer look shows that there are flaws that the elves likely hope the brilliance will keep hidden. The light accentuating Magnus’s own haggard appearance is another way Alfheim tells people they don’t belong—while it accentuates the opulence, it also highlights anything that doesn’t fit its image.

“‘What do you bet Elfish isn’t his first language? Illegal husvaettr would be my guess.’

I wanted to point out that I was a human speaking English, and it was my first language. Also my only language. Elfish and English just happened to be the same, like Hearth’s Alf Sign Language was the same as American Sign Language.”

These lines come during Magnus and Hearth’s interaction with the Alfheim cops. It’s not specified what language husvaettr is or who speaks it, but the officers’ attitude toward it symbolizes how the Alfheim upper class is intolerant toward anything it perceives as “other.” The fact that the cops have been able to understand Magnus throughout the conversation means they know he’s speaking the same language, but they focus on his Boston accent to emphasize how different he is.

The similarity between English and Elfish, as well as Elven and American sign language, shows how the Norse and modern-day worlds intertwine. It’s likely the residents of Alfheim and the other worlds spoke old Norse centuries ago, but as the World Tree grew and the center of the Norse gods moved, the language also shifted.

“I was no magician, but it seemed wrong for a set of rune-stones to be missing one symbol. How could you master a language—especially the language of the universe—without all the letters?”

Magnus has just learned that Hearth gave up using one of the runes because he left the rune at his brother’s grave as a remembrance. Magnus’s observation foreshadows how Hearth will eventually reclaim the rune in the sequel, and his thoughts about alphabets show the importance of language and how missing even one piece can make communication incomplete. For a standard alphabet, removing a letter would render much of the language incomprehensible, such as if “a” was taken from English. For magic, the consequences of leaving out a letter seem more dire, such as causing spells not to work as intended.

“Hearthstone signed: The ring is affecting him.

I nodded, though I wondered how strained Mr. Alderman’s sanity had already been. For decades, he had been living off resentment, blaming Hearthstone for Andiron’s death. Now, suddenly, Hearthstone had freed himself from that debt. Andvari’s ring simply moved in to fill the void with a whole bunch of crazy.”

Magnus has just added the ring to the pile of gold covering the rug in Hearth’s bedroom. With the ring now in Mr. Alderman’s possession, his behavior is changing, and his attention to anything but wealth becomes more sporadic. While the ring and money are partly responsible for this shift, Magnus’s observation suggests there is more at play than wealth and that a person’s preexisting mental state influences how they react to new information. Mr. Alderman has spent the past several years constructing a belief that Hearth’s inferiority caused his brother’s (Andiron’s) death. He’s put much of his energy toward forcing Hearth to atone, and now that Hearth has done so according to Mr. Alderman’s terms, Mr. Alderman is vulnerable because he no longer has something to fixate on. He is an easy target for the ring and what it offers.

“‘Sam,’ I said, ‘if you’re just trying to show him proof of weirdness, bust out your blazing spear. Fly around the roof. You can do a million things—’

‘None of which are meant to be seen by mortals,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s a paradox, Magnus. I’m not supposed to reveal my powers to a mortal, so if I try to do it on purpose, my powers won’t work. I say, Hey, look at me fly! and suddenly I can’t fly.’”

This conversation between Magnus and Sam comes while Sam is trying to prove to Amir that the Norse world exists. She has been unsuccessful thus far, and her inability to just show Amir something magical is another example of how Riordan’s story world works. The Percy Jackson series introduced the idea that the gods and mythology hide themselves from mortals: While mortals can actually see the worlds of the gods, their brains aren’t wired to remember magic, so anything they see is forgotten almost instantly. In contrast, due to the magic in their blood, demigods or einherjar have an innate ability to remember and use magic. In the case of the Norse gods, the magic has an extra level of protection where it will stop itself from working if it’s intentionally used in front of mortals.

“A lot of folks in the Norse cosmos had warned me that names had power. You weren’t supposed to utter them unless you had to. Me, I preferred to wear names out like hand-me-down clothes. That seemed the best way to drain the power from them.”

Magnus is thinking while he, Sam, and Alex sit at Amir’s restaurant and wait for Amir to make food. Alex has just asked about Utgard-Loki by describing the giant as a sorcerer, and Magnus jumps in to name Utgard-Loki, something he’s been advised not to do because names have power and can call attention to whoever speaks them. Magnus instead subscribes to the idea that speaking names drains their power, which symbolizes how familiarity can make something less frightening. Through this conversation, Riordan suggests that shying away from things that make us confused or uncomfortable can prevent us from getting used to them and give those things power over us. Choosing to confront something instead can diminish or even remove the urge to fear it.

“I thought about something Halfborn Gunderson had once told me about wolf packs: each wolf pushes the limits within its pack. They are constantly testing where they stand in the hierarchy—where they can sleep, how much they can eat of a fresh kill. They continue to push until the alpha wolf snaps at them and reminds them of their place. I hadn’t realized I was pushing, but I’d just gotten a first-rate alpha-snapping.”

Magnus has offered for the third or fourth time to heal Alex’s wound from crashing into Tiny’s shoelace. Alex has politely refused up until this point, but after this most recent inquiry, she snapped at Magnus because she doesn’t want him to heal her and see inside her mind. Halfborn’s anecdote calls to the fact that humans are still animals. Without even realizing it sometimes, members of a group can vie for dominance and test limits, and a group’s leader may shift as these power plays occur. At this moment, Alex is in the alpha position, and Magnus feels chastened because he didn’t realize how much his desire to help was distressing her.

“You know very little of leading, Magnus Chase. Kingship requires the right combination of iron and mead, fear and generosity. As great as I am at wielding magic, I cannot simply force my will upon my giants. They will always outnumber me. I must earn their respect every day. Now you must as well.”

Utgard-Loki says this to Magnus when Magnus asks why Utgard-Loki can’t just give them the information they need to stop Loki. Utgard-Loki’s words call both to how magic isn’t an all-powerful force and also to the tenuous nature of leadership. Though Utgard-Loki is an accomplished magician, there is no spell or rune in the Nine Worlds that is powerful enough to ensure his followers’ loyalty. Like mortal leaders, Utgard-Loki must offer his followers what they want in order for them to respect him. Like the wolves Halfborn once told Magnus about, Utgard-Loki’s subjects will test the limits and try to earn favor through whatever means they deem necessary, and in the case of information about Loki, Utgard-Loki’s version of snapping is to force Magnus and his friends into competitions.

“‘Welcome to our home, Bilskirnir—the renowned palace Bright Crack!’

All around us, a heavenly chorus sang Ahhhhhhhh! then shut off as abruptly as it had begun.”

This line is spoken by Sif, Thor’s wife, and Magnus’s group has just fled Jotunheim while pursued by Utgard-Loki’s giants. Sif welcomes them to the magnificent palace, and every time the palace’s name is spoken, the heavenly choir sings. These lines are an example of Riordan’s unique humor and ability to infuse this story world with things that could feel realistic for gods. The palace’s choir symbolizes Thor’s importance—yet because Thor is more of a bumbling oaf than an all-powerful lightning god, the choir is also ironic because it suggests grandeur that Thor does not typically embody.

“‘I should be the one in the wedding dress. I’m a Valkyrie. I have powers Alex doesn’t have. I have more experience fighting. I—’

‘You made a promise to Amir. You have lines you can’t cross. That’s not a weakness. It’s one of your strengths.’”

This passage comes while Sif helps prepare Alex to impersonate Sam as the bride at the wedding to Thrym. Sam agreed to the plan because she vowed not to wed anyone but Amir, and the switch was the best way for her to keep her promise. Even so, she feels like she’s putting Alex in a situation Alex isn’t ready for. Sam cites all the reasons she’s more equipped to be in the most danger because she feels weak for letting her personal decisions get in the way of what needs to be done. Magnus’s observation suggests an idea often associated with American culture: that boundaries and personal needs are not valid reasons for a decision. In this example, Sam’s willingness to stay true to her beliefs shows how strong she is, rather than branding her as weak.

“Otis and Marvin dive-bombed one of the valleys, leaving my internal organs up in the clouds. Stanley the horse would have approved. Sam did not. She clutched the railing and muttered, ‘Minimums, guys. Watch your approach speed.’ Alex snickered. ‘Don’t be a backseat pilot.’”

Otis and Marvin (Thor’s goats) land the chariot at Bridal Falls, where Magnus, Alex, and Sam will meet Thrynga to go to the wedding. For most of the book, Sam has emphasized how she can’t separate her Valkyrie status from her mortal existence, but her reaction to the landing shows the opposite is also true—she can’t separate her mortal life from the Norse world.

When piloting a plane, “minimums” is a verbal warning given at the lowest altitude a plane can safely land without being able to see the runway or guiding lights. Though there is no runway or lights, Sam warns the goats because their landing feels rough and too rapid.

“I wasn’t religious, but the whole scene reminded me of a crucifix in a Catholic church—a man in excruciating pain, his arms outstretched. Of course, Loki was nobody’s idea of a savior. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t sacrificing himself for something noble. He was an evil immortal paying for his crimes. Still, seeing him here in person—broken, filthy, and in agony—I couldn’t help feeling pity. No one deserved this kind of punishment, not even a murderer and a liar.”

Magnus sees Loki’s prison for the first time, and the full weight of the god’s punishment hits him. Though Loki killed Odin’s son and has done countless other terrible things, the punishment seems overly harsh, and Magnus feels a twinge of sympathy. This emotion signals Magnus’s heroism, as traditional heroic characters appreciate the plight of all, even their sworn enemies.

The idea of a crucifix is ironic. Like Jesus, Loki is being punished, which suggests that splayed and bound limbs is a position of vulnerability. However, Christianity associates the cross with divine moral perfection, while Loki is widely regarded as evil. The imagery highlights the theme of Appropriating the Labels “Good” and “Evil”.

“‘No, Magnus.’ He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want to wake anyone. ‘My family—’

‘I am your family, you old idiot!’

Maybe that wasn’t the most endearing thing to say. Maybe I should’ve thought good riddance and let him fall. But Annabeth was right. Randolph was family. The whole Chase clan attracted the gods’ attention, and Randolph had borne that curse more heavily than most of us. Despite everything, I still wanted to help him. He shook his head, sadness and pain fighting for dominance in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I want to see them.’”

This conversation marks the last time Magnus sees Randolph in this book. Despite everything his uncle’s done, Magnus recognizes that Randolph’s life has been affected by the gods just as much as his or Annabeth’s. Magnus’s observations suggest how people choose their families. He could have just as easily shunned Randolph for aiding with so much chaos, but he makes the more difficult decision to see Randolph’s challenges for what they are and accept that Randolph is just trying to make the right choices.

“I didn’t know what to do with all the anger inside me. My chest boiled at the same temperature as the cesspool. If I hadn’t hated Loki enough already, now I was determined to follow him to the ends of the Nine Worlds and... and do something really bad to him.

Like tie him down with his children’s guts? asked a little voice in my head. Put a venomous snake over his face? How did that sort of justice work out for the Aesir?”

Magnus sits with Alex and Sam and stares into the chasm where Loki has disappeared. Alex has just revealed that Loki ordered her and Sam to die, which fills Magnus with enough rage to consider a punishment similar to the one the gods assigned. The opposing viewpoint in his mind is a reminder of the sympathy Magnus felt for Loki’s situation a few chapters ago, as well as a warning that, even bound and hidden as Loki was, he was still found and freed. Loki’s punishment also didn’t change what he did or bring Balder back, showing a flaw in the idea of retributive justice: Punishments are often less about consequences for wrongful actions and more about revenge for the party that feels wronged.

“The three of us camped in the grass in the middle of my atrium. It reminded me of the old days, sleeping in the Public Garden, but I’m not going to tell you I was nostalgic for being homeless. Homelessness is not something any sane person would ever be nostalgic about. Still, like I’ve said, it was a lot simpler than being an undead warrior who chased fugitive gods across the Nine Worlds and conducted serious conversations while a monstrous squirrel made faces at you in the window.”

Magnus, Blitz, and Hearth have returned to Magnus’s room in Valhalla in preparation for a good night’s rest. The scene reminds Magnus of the times they spent together before Magnus became an einherji, but as simple as that time felt compared to Magnus’s current situation, he wouldn’t want to be without a home again. His thoughts recall his feelings at the beginning of the book, when he felt strange being a “normal” kid. Here, he pines for that “normality” in a way, and if his past were different, he might be willing to go back if he had the option. The entire debate of one type of hardship versus another highlights how personal experiences can change someone’s perspective.