That night, Thor and Sif are asleep in their room, as usual. And there is a third mosquito. There is the buzz, and the slap, and another buzz, and another slap.
But Sif is only half asleep tonight. When she senses her husband reaching for his hammer, she is suddenly awake and reaching over to stop him. Groggily, he forces his eyes open and rolls over to look at her.
Sif gets out of bed and turns on the light. She stands in the middle of the room and pulls up the sleeve of her delightfully diaphanous gown, a gift from Freya.
In the stillness of the room, a tiny buzzing can be heard. There it is: the mosquito, hovering closer and closer to Sif's exposed arm. Thor is enraged. This rude blood-sucking creature is about to raise a welt on his lovely and beloved wife's perfect skin! He is set to destroy it, but Sif motions for him to stop.
The mosquito comes closer still. But as it does so, Sif begins to sway. And as she does, that famous hair of hers sways also: so long and golden, flowing like the wind across a field of wheat. It is almost like it has a mind of its own.
But it doesn't have a mind of its own. No, that hair works the will of Sif. The instant the mosquito lands on her, she gives her head the tiniest little flick. Her hair snaps forward with a crack! And that mosquito is no more.
Sif turns out the light and comes back to bed. She sees her husband's electric eyes adoring her in the darkness. She smiles, knowing she won't be asleep again for a while yet. And it occurs to her that, yes, sometimes it really is the little things that matter.