Hail to you Þrúðr, who has the grace and rare
beauty of Sif your gold-haired mother,
and the strength and daring of your father
lightning-hurling Þórr. You alone of the Ásynjur
can lift the mighty hammer Mjölnir,
as you did that time Hrungnir Gullfaxi’s master
carried you kicking and screaming to Jötunheimr
and many a skull, knee and hand you crushed, Þrúðr,
before they had Þjazi bring you back home. Your
vengeance may have been thwarted that day by Hrungnir
the swiftly fleeing, but it sure caught up with him when Þórr
came knocking, wielding his returned Mjölnir.
You, Goddess, were much kinder when the confused Dvergr
Alvíss showed up on your doorstep, come to claim your
hand in marriage, a betrothal negotiated by the ever
helpful Loki Laufey’s son, the lawyer.
This time it didn’t take your loving and protective father Þórr,
nor the assistance of Móði and Magni, your heroic brothers, for
you got vengeance all on your own, and somehow, despite how Thorr
dawn-greeter treated him, managed to forge friendship bonds that endure
still with much-skilled Alvíss of the underhill folk, Þrúðr
sun-bright, of gentle disposition, pole-star and frith-upholder,
Þrúðr true-of-aim. And may we ever remember
you who give ale to the Einherjar of Óðinn Allfather,
Þrúðr, and we thank you for every kindness you show to our ancestors.