Long ago, before humanity became thinking and responsible, the hammer of Thor was stolen by the giant Trym. Thor's hammer represents power not only of destruction but also of creation, including the power to procreate: hence Mjolnir is the symbol of marriage. Loki, agent of the gods and spokesman for the giants, is sent by Thor to find the hammer and forthwith borrows Freya's "feather-guise" and sets out to locate the irreplaceable emblem of creation. He returns with the tidings that Trym has indeed stolen Mjolnir and hidden it deep in the earth. In exchange for its return the matter giant demands that Freya become his bride. Freya, besides being the indwelling spirit of Venus, and sister of Frey, the earth deity, represents, as we have seen, the higher intelligence of our humanity; she guides and protects our human race which is her Brisinga-jewel.
Hearing Trym's outrageous demand, the goddess snorted with such vehemence that the precious gem was shattered. Indeed, all the gods, meeting to deal with this emergency, greeted the giant's ultimatum with consternation. During their deliberations, Heimdal proposed that Thor disguise himself as Freya in bridal attire so that he might himself retrieve his property. His futile protests are overruled by the assembled deities, and Thor reluctantly submits to the indignity of being garbed in fine linen and, wearing two rounded stones on his bosom, to the hall of Trym, accompanied by Loki attired as a bridesmaid.
During the nuptial festivities the giant is appalled by the bride's prodigious appetite and thirst. Only Loki's ready wit saves the situation as he explains that Freya has fasted long in anticipation of this happy event. When Trym bent to kiss his bride and, raising the veil, met the Thundergod's lightning glare, he reeled back the length of the hall from the impact. Again Loki intervened with an explanation which fortunately satisfied the giant (who evidently was a bit dimwitted).
Trym ordered Mjolnir to be brought and laid on the bride's lap to consecrate the marriage. And so it was that the power of Thor was restored to the god after its misuse in the sphere of matter by a race not yet awake to its responsibility as a humanity. It may not be out of place here to note that our own hedonistic age is apparently not the first to misuse creative and destructive power. The creativity symbolized by Thor's hammer -- the power to set in motion vortices of action to contain life and organize forms for gods to occupy -- can obviously be applied on many levels of existence. Our earth provides analogous examples: from the proliferation of mineral crystals through the many ingenious devices plants have for disseminating spores and seeds; through the seasonable mating of animals to human sexuality, each stage of development opens up more opportunities than the last for creativity. We humans are not limited to the physical world in our creations; we enjoy greater freedom of creativity than at any previous stage of progress: our versatile intelligence and exclusively human intuition are gateways to worlds of science and art, to reaches of inspiration and philosophic and spiritual ideals not available to "the dwarfs in Dvalin's train." This places us in a position of responsibility for the governance of our earth and the kingdoms beneath the human which follow our lead.
It should be mentioned that theosophic history records that, since the age when the creative power came to earth from the realm of the gods, the planet has undergone even grosser materiality than that which prevailed when Thor's hammer was stolen, at which time it was comparable to its present condition. We have since then descended even further and begun the reascent. At the midpoint of its life, the earth's heaviest atoms began to radiate away their substance, i.e., radioactivity began. This was millions of years ago, though it was only recently discovered. The planet should continue to refine its matter (with intervals of consolidation that should become progressively briefer) until it eventually dies. We are, according to Brahmanic and theosophic chronology, past the nadir or turning point when we began to wend our slow steps once more upward in spiritual growth. The tale of Volund relates how the most material humanity fared in that, the planet's darkest hour