Skaði’s story begins in grief and anger. We are introduced to the precursor story with the events that occur when Idunna, and her apples, are kidnapped by the giant Þjazi. That tale results in the giant’s death leading straight into the arrival of Skaði on the scene. In the Prose Edda, particularly in Skáldskaparmál, she arrives in Ásgarð to confront the gods after her father is killed. Her arrival is spectacular for a woman, and the fact that it is included in the existing texts shows how extraordinary it must have been during retellings. 

Skaði does not arrive quietly. She is armed, accompanied by wolves, prepared for conflict, and carrying the weight of what has been taken from her. With her father gone Skaði has little inheritance, no prospects for a union should she choose one, and no male relatives willing to balance the scales and avenge her father’s death. She is on her own but doesn’t shy away. She is already a fierce hunter. Rather than wait for someone to rescue her she dons armor, picks up her weapons, and heads to Ásgarð to demand what is rightfully hers.

It must have been both surprising and incredibly impressive when the gods and goddesses were interrupted by loud banging on the doors of the hall. The temperatures had dropped, snow had begun to blow around the lands, and an expectant energy had begun to build within the walls. An energy that was heightened when the doors were opened and this shield-woman of Jötunn descent stood upon the threshold, fully armed, and prepared to kick ass and take names. 

Now, the gods could have tossed her out of the hall and chased her out of Ásgarð, but Oðinn instead welcomed her and asked of her travels and eventually her intent. Skaði told the tale of her father’s death and then demanded wergild, or recompense, to balance out what she had lost. Instead of continuing the cycle of violence, the gods listened to her requests for compensation. First, she would choose an eligible husband from among them. A reasonable request considering the times and societal rules. Oðinn agreed but added the stipulation that she would choose only by the appearance of their feet. Skaði agreed thinking that Baldr, the radiant god, would surely have the most beautiful set of feet. Such was not the case. Instead, once she had chosen the curtain was pulled back and it was revealed that she had chosen Njörð, the sea god of the Vanir. Though older, Skaði recognized the kindness in his eyes and felt that of all she could have wound up with, he wasn’t that bad. They were married immediately.

Her second term was that the gods would have to make her laugh. Understand, this was a fierce woman of strong Jötunn stock. Intense, experienced in battle, raised in harsh elements, and now grieving the loss of her father. Undaunted, the gods attempt to tell jokes, wild stories, playing pranks, and general acts of revelry designed to bring a smile. None of it worked. Finally, they yanked poor Loki aside and told him that since the whole thing with her dad started with him…he needed to fix it or else. A theme with these gods.

Loki, with his wit and cunning, thought carefully. He then asked for a long piece of rope and a billy goat. Yes, a goat. What happened next surely rivals any other tale of gods or goddesses anywhere. Now, a goat’s beard is very sensitive, especially a buck’s. When in rut they pee on their beards to entice the ladies and generally make a smelly nuisance of themselves. Knowing this, Loki tied one end of the rope to the goat’s beard and turned him to face the doorway. This was probably to entice the goat to try and escape out of the doors. He then dropped trow and tied the other end of the rope to his testicles. No, I didn’t stutter or misrepresent. Loki tied his balls to the beard of a male goat. Skaði was watching this impassively if not a little curiously. Loki then got on all fours and began to crawl towards Skaði. Once the rope pulled tight, the goat began to react. Not at all happy to have a rope on his beard the goat lunged forward towards the doors and freedom. Back and forth the tug of war went. Loki trying desperately to get to Skaði’s chair and the goat yanking for all he was worth in the other direction. Loki was crying, he was sweating, he was biting his lips in pain. But he inched forward. The gods were speechless. They didn’t know whether to commiserate with what was obviously a devastating blow to his nether-regions or laugh their asses off. 

Skaði sat in her chair watching. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only ten minutes, Loki reached the Jötunn woman and gasping in pain laid his head on her lap. The goat, realizing that the tugging had stopped, laid down in relief. The hall was so quiet you could have heard a fly fart. They all watched Skaði closely. She looked down at the red, exhausted face of Loki and slowly the corners of her stern lips began to twitch upward. A collective breath was drawn. She then began to smile. It slowly moved up her face to her eyes. Then she let out a husky laugh, replaying the image of Loki’s antics in her mind. The hall let out its breath and they began to welcome Skaði into their ranks. Loki, aching and more than a little embarrassed, managed to crawl away to recuperate. And no, they never thanked him.

In recognition of the events, and to add one final parting gift to balance the scales of wergild, Oðinn conjured the eyes of Þjazi and set them to the heavens so that whenever Skaði was in need she could see her father watching over her.