“You will join us as guests at dinner,” said Hymir. He clapped his hands.The door of the hall opened, and a giant ox was led in, its coat shining,its  eyes  bright, its  horns  sharp. It  was  followed by  another,  even  morebeautiful, and then the last ox, even finer than the first two.“These are the most excellent oxen in existence. So much bigger andfatter  than  the  beasts of  Midgard  or  Asgard. I  am,”  Hymir confided,“enormously proud of my herd of cattle. They are my treasures, and thedelight of my eyes. I treat them like my own children.” And for a momenthis scowling face seemed to soften.The grandmother with nine hundred heads killed each ox, skinned it,and tossed it into her enormous cooking pot. The pot boiled and bubbledover a fire which hissed and spat, and she stirred it with a spoon as big as anoak  tree.  She  sang  quietly to  herself as  she  cooked, in  a  voice  like  athousand old women all singing at the tops of their voices at once.Soon enough the food was ready.“You are guests here. Do not stand on ceremony. Take as much as youcan eat from the pot,” said Hymir expansively. The strangers were small,after all—how much could they eat? After all, the oxen were enormous.Thor said he didn’t mind if he did, and he proceeded to devour two ofthe  oxen  all  by  himself, one  after  the  other,  leaving nothing but  clean-picked bones. Then he belched in a satisfied way. That’s a lot of food, Veor,” said Hymir. “It was meant to feed us forseveral days. I do not think I have ever seen even a giant eat two of myoxen at once before.”“I  was  hungry,”  said  Thor.  “And  I  got  a  little  carried away.

Hymir and Thor’s Fishing Expedition