![]() Home of the Dark Elves who - and pay close attention now - tend to be darker in appearance than the Light Elves of Alfheim. And now I can’t stop imagining Orlando riding one. Also, some of the smaller elves ride cats. Alfheim is home to the peaceful Light Elves who, as Marvel’s Official Handbook to the Marvel Universe tells us, “tend to be lighter in color than the Dark Elves.” Thanks for clearing that up, Marvel Comics! Those smitten with Orlando Bloom’s non-threatening features and/or mad archery skills might be tempted to make Alfheim their first and only stop on their trans-dimensional journey, but a word of warning: While most of Alfheim is depicted as a temperate forest just begging to be frolicked in, a good portion of it is a frozen wasteland of ice and snow, because God forbid even the denizens of the designated “happy place” of the Nine Worlds ever forget winter is always coming. No, not the mythical home of inexplicably popular puppet stars from mind-boggingly stupid ’80s sitcoms. Really, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it’s common for the socially awkward kids in Asgard to claim that, sure, they totally have a girlfriend but she lives in Vanaheim and they don’t have any pictures of her because all the cameras over there are in metric, or something. The residents of Vanaheim don’t get the same kind of attention as their neighboring Asgardians because they’re more into the boring, peace-loving stuff like farming and fertility - just like Canadians. Vanaheim is usually seen as pastoral and full of natural wonders by the more urbanized Asgardians - just like Canada. Kind of like how Canadians live right next to the U.S., and I don’t make that comparison lightly. This is the home of the Vanir, a race of gods that live right next door to Asgard. ![]() I’m totally snagging “House of Uproar” for the name of my next imaginary rock band. Then there’s Thrymheim, the mountain stronghold with a name that means “house of uproar,” “crash home” or “noisy home,” depending on which ancient text you swear by. Other points of interest for the adventurous tourist: the river Iving, which never freezes over Mimir’s well of wisdom, beneath a root of the ash tree Yggdrasil and the stronghold of Utgard, largest city in Jotenheim (official town motto: “Bring a sweater”). It’s also the birthplace of Loki, but don’t expect the local tourism board to order up plaques commemorating that blessed event anytime soon. Basically, if giants are what you’re into, then this is the place to be. This realm is home to Frost Giants, Storm Giants, Mountain Giants, New York Giants, They Might Be Giants, all kinds of giants. Armpit lineages notwithstanding, Midgard is home to - depending on which Thor stories you subscribe to - the comeliest nurses/doctors/paramedics/astrophysicists in all the Nine Worlds, and you know the gods are all about hitting that. It’s surrounded by a giant sea serpent named Jormungand - which sounds less like a frightening mythological creature and more like the name of the sixth-grade bully that started a young Schwarzenegger on the road to fitness - and was formed from the eyebrows, blood, flesh and armpits of an ancient ice giant, in case you were wondering why the gods don’t come by to visit as much as they used to. ![]() Or, as us mere mortals like to call it, “Earth” (though “terra firma” or “home of the Grand Slam Breakfast” will do in a pinch). ![]() Asgard’s only real drawback, aside from the slow progress on the representational democracy front, is the constant attacks from trolls, frost giants, and other assorted monsters that want in on the enchanted teat mead action. You can keep your craggy Grecian mountaintops and cloud-infested harp recitals show me a place where I can sit in a golden dining hall and drink mead from an enchanted goat’s teat for all eternity and I am one happy dead guy. It’s the alpha and omega, the ultimate destination, the skybox seat, the mack daddy cool of all divine abodes. ![]()
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