<center>Gather around, Oneiromancers, for on this day we bring to thee,
A story, straight from the mouth of Vindhlér!
The man of many names;
Watcher of Asgard;
Born of the seas;
The All-Seer;
Praise be to his name, and <b>[[listen]].</b></center><center> <h1>''The Fenris-Wolf''</h1>
The tale begins like this:
The powerful Tyr meets Odin in his hall, bearing with him [[three children]]...<center>"Why," Odin said, "are there three abominations in my hall?"
Odin's tone was deceptively mild, but his gaze was sharp. Tyr's back was straight, hands clasped behind him, and he met the All-Father's eye resolutely.
Tyr stood like a man facing an army, although, he thought, an angry Odin was worse.
"They're not abominations," Tyr said.
"Is that so?" Odin said. "Why, as wise as I am, you seem to think I am blind."
Odin looked down to the three children.
The first was a serpent, a snake. It curled upon itself, gnawing at its own tail. Its scales were mottled various smudges of green, and its eyes a deep yellow. It had curled when Tyr had first seen it, and it hadn't relaxed since then.
The second was a girl that was split down the middle. Her left side was the same as any freshly born baby, pinkish and soft. Her right, however, was monstrous -- her flesh was shriveled and deeply blue, her fingers ended in stubby claws, and her right eye socket was empty.
The third was a wolf pup. Its fur was dark grey, and it gnawed weakly at a bone that Tyr had grabbed for it. By all accounts, it looked like a normal newborn wolf -- except for the fact that its cloudy eyes followed the sound of the voices above it with far too much intelligence.
"Not abominations," Tyr repeated. Odin raised an eyebrow. "[[Loki's spawn]].""...What?" Odin said, dangerously low.
"He laid with some jötunn woman," Tyr said, "by the name of Angrboda. The birth was scant but nine days ago. I only happened upon them by chance."
"Their parents simply parted ways with them?" Odin asked.
"No. The mother was... absent, when I came across them, and I am unsure if Loki was ever present."
Odin nodded.
"Their names?"
"The serpent, Jörmungandr," Tyr said. "The girl, Hel. The wolf, Fenrir."
"I have heard prophecy of these," Odin said, and Tyr startled. "Vile things, they'll be. An evil nature, inherited from their mother. And their father."
Those last few words were spoken in a pained tone, and a prophecy was certainly news to Tyr, but he ignored both of those facts to consider the most important aspect.
"What do you plan to do?" Tyr asked.
Odin turned to stare at him. Tyr squared his shoulders and met Odin's gaze.
An entire conversation passed in silence.
"They're children," Tyr finally said.
Odin snorted. "Nidhogg was once a child, presumably," he said. "Would you have invited that into Asgard?"
"They are your nephews," Tyr said.
Tyr glared before Odin could continue, and Odin sighed. "If you so insist," he said. "We can form a [[plan]]."<center>Eventually, Odin came to a decision regarding the children:
Banishment.
And so Jörmungandr, the serpent, was cast into the seas of Midgard, and became known as the Midgard Serpent;
And so Hel, the girl, was cast into the bleak realm of Niflheim, and she eventually formed the realm of Helheim;
But, the wolf pup.
Odin looked at the wolf pup,
and he decided that Fenrir would grow up in [[Asgard]].<center>Fenrir had just recently grown bigger than Geri and Freki, and he was so very pleased about it.
Tyr reclined in the grass and smiled faintly as the three wolves all ran circles around each other. It wasn't often that the All-Father's wolves weren't being sent off on some errand. It wasn't often that the All-Father himself wasn't watching over them when they were free, either.
Tyr heard footsteps behind him. He glanced back. His smile fell.
"Skade," he greeted. "What brings you here?"
Skade's gaze told him the answer. She watched Fenrir with a sneer on her lips for a long, long moment before she finally looked to Tyr.
"You're still watching over that thing?" she asked.
//Well//, Tyr thought, //at least she was direct//.
"Are you, perhaps," Tyr said, "referring to Fenrir, son of Loki and a member of the Aesir?"
Skade's face grew tight. "That beast that always follows you around," she said. "And here I heard that Tyr was one of the Aesir's greatest. Yet you spend all of your time following after Loki's spawn."
"You've been of the Aesir for how long?" Tyr asked. "Nine months?"
"Ten," Skade corrected.
"You know nothing of us and yet you think I care about your opinion of me?" Tyr asked mildly. "Fenrir quite frankly has a better claim within the Aesir than you do, Skade."
He turned away from her, ignoring the intensity of her glare.
"Take your leave, archer," he said, "and feel free to think twice before you share your unwanted opinions."
Fenrir whirled around in a circle and tackled Geri to the ground. Freki piled on and the three wolves all began nipping at each other.
[[Skade stalked off.]]Skade's opinion wasn't anything new.
It was a common one, something he'd been dealing with since his entry into the Aesir. He was a full-blooded jötunn man -- the type of person who was rarely allowed into Asgard, and even less often allowed to leave alive. He had no family within the Aesir -- his father and mother ruled a minor keep in Jötunnheimr -- and he was unmarried.
And yet Tyr had become Odin's right-hand man.
It was Odin's support that had allowed Tyr into the realm, and with Odin's support Loki's taunts had faded in intensity, Bragi's poems had taken a more neutral view of him, Heimdall had started to trust his guidance, and Thor now considered him something of a friend.
Still. Even with Odin's support, for most of the Aesir he was a trusted outsider. Nothing more.
The addition of the Vanir into Asgard hadn't changed opinions of him much. The Vanir would never be friends of his, not after the war -- even the friendliest of those from Vanaheim despised him. Even if the twins were smart enough to keep quiet about it.
And, well.
When Loki had refused to take responsibility for his own spawn and had left Fenrir alone...
When all of the other Aesir had kept away from the wolf, both scared and disgusted by it...
Tyr knew taking charge of the wolf's upbringing wouldn't improve his standing within Asgard any.
But what did reputation matter, in comparison to doing the [[right thing]]?So Fenrir grew.
Odin had something of a fondness for the wolf, Tyr suspected. Thor seemed to tolerate its presence; Loki avoided his son entirely, as far as Tyr knew.
The Vanir, at least, mostly treated the wolf well, despite Fenrir's association with Tyr himself. And Baldur, too, extended a branch of kindness to Loki's son.
Despite them, Fenrir's reputation in Asgard was still poor.
Heimdall treated the wolf with nothing but suspicion. Skade, of course, called it a beast or an abomination whenever she got the chance. Modi and Magni, the sons of Thor, laughed to themselves whenever Tyr and Fenrir passed by.
One time, in practice, Ullr had "accidentally" shot Fenrir with an arrow. Tyr had beaten him bloody for that.
Regardless of it all,
[[Fenrir grew.]]Where once Fenrir had been around the same size as Geri and Freki, now the wolf dwarfed them. He was taller standing than Thor himself, his paws left dents into stone, and his ocean-colored eyes shone with intelligence.
Tyr and Odin walked through the yards of Asgard, and they had ample warning when Fenrir approached.
The first thing about Fenrir, something that Tyr had always known but had only become apparent recently, was that Fenrir was no beast. He was smart.
When Fenrir bounded into view, he came to a stop, bowed briefly to Odin, and then looked towards Tyr.
"Tyr," Fenrir said, "Loki and Heimdall are fighting again."
Fenrir was smart, Tyr knew, but the other Aesir hadn't acknowledged that fact until he'd started to speak. And after he'd learned his words, everyone had been forced to confront the second thing about Fenrir:
They were wrong about him.
Fenrir was nothing like Loki. He had no penchant for mischief, and he was the worst liar Tyr had ever seen. No, Fenrir had developed a stout sense of justice, and he wasted no time in telling //everyone// what his thoughts were when it came to any given situation.
"Please tell Heimdall to calm down," Tyr said. "I'll come by in a few minutes."
Fenrir nodded, his ears perked up, and he turned and rushed off.
"The wolf is fast," Odin said.
"Indeed he is," Tyr replied, and usually he would be quietly proud whenever anyone complimented Fenrir, but something in Odin's tone struck him as odd.
"Hm," Odin said. "Large, too. I can't imagine it growing much taller."
"Him," Tyr corrected.
Odin regarded him silently.
"...And I'd suppose not," Tyr said.
"Good, then," Odin said. "It's time we [[put the wolf to work]]."Battlefields had a way of falling into chaos when a giant wolf entered the fray.
Admittedly it had been something of a mild battle, at least by Tyr's perspective, but the line of jötnar attacking had buckled and fell into disarray when Fenrir had smashed into them.
Farbauti's ilk, Tyr figured, trying to take advantage of Thor's preoccupation to attack a village on Midgard. Tyr and Fenrir had put a stop to that. The jötnar had fled.
Tyr had wanted them to take their leave immediately, but the villagers had seen Fenrir and beckoned him over, and Fenrir had //looked at him// with his big, soft eyes...
"Fenrir," Tyr had said, and then he'd groaned. "Fine. But only for a few minutes."
Fenrir had perked up instantly. He'd nuzzled Tyr, Tyr had patted him on the snout, and Fenrir had raced into the village.
Not even a word from the wolf and Tyr had lost the argument. Goodness.
Fenrir had never stepped foot into Midgard before, and frankly Tyr had been terrified at the idea, but it seemed the realms had moved to surprise him. Fenrir was doing laps, much to the amusement of the villagers. Tyr stood back and waved off the few people that tried to approach him, watching Fenrir.
After a half hour of running (as the villagers ooh'd and aah'd at him), he mumbled something towards the crowd and began to pad over towards Tyr.
A group of villagers waylaid him. They hoisted up an oxen, offering it to him.
Fenrir's eyes shone. Tyr had never seen him so [[happy]].Fenrir continued to grow.
His presence on battlefields became a regular thing, and Fenrir learned to crush his enemies without hesitation. The Wolf of the Aesir, bane of Jötunnheimr.
Where once he followed in the footsteps of Geri and Freki, now he leaned down to meet their eyes and taught them new tricks.
It went well, for a time.
Where once Thor had treated him with caution and suspicion, now the Thunder Lord wrapped an arm around Fenrir's head and declared him to be a mighty warrior.
Fenrir had been on high for days, after that.
The Aesir began to treat Fenrir with a begrudging respect rather than hostility, and whenever Fenrir traveled through Midgard the people there gave him offerings, praise, reverence.
The first time a human had declared worship to him, Fenrir had puffed out his chest, trying to seem impressive, even as he awkwardly scrambled to think of a response.
The thousandth time, Fenrir had accepted the man's words with quiet pride, because even as it happened more and more often he still felt the same surge of joy.
Fenrir took to his new role with aplomb.
And yet still, [[Fenrir continued to grow.]]<center>Once, Fenrir was a pup, the clouds just having left his eyes, curious at everything he could find.
Once, Fenrir was the size of Odin's wolves, and he played with them whenever he could.
Once, Fenrir was just freshly taller than any of the Aesir, and yet still he alternated between slow, anxious movements and careless, ungangly sprints around Asgard.
Once, Fenrir had been bright-eyed, a novice at receiving praise and yet desperate to seek it out all the same.
But now,
Odin had decided,
Fenrir had grown [[too much]].<center>Tyr nearly erupted into violence at the order.
"//No//," Tyr snarled. "How //dare// you."
Odin clicked his tongue. "Letting your affection for the beast cloud your judgment, are you," he said, a statement rather than a question.
This time Tyr //did// erupt into violence. He punched Odin in the jaw, and found a dark level of satisfaction in watching the All-Father fall.
They were silent for a long moment. Odin pushed himself to his feet, slowly, ever so slowly, and rubbed at his jaw. His single eye flicked to Tyr, and away.
"Curious," Odin said. "You used to be reliable."
The words would have been cutting, if not for the cloud of anger Tyr clung to.
"I would react the same for any of the other Aesir," Tyr said.
"We both know that is a lie," Odin said. "I rather don't mind. Feel as bad as you want. It still needs to be done."
"You've been biased against Fenrir from the start," Tyr said, "not because of who he is but from who he was born. You can dislike Loki all you want--"
"Loki has nothing to do with this."
"You lie. Loki has everything to do with this. You--"
"The wolf is prophesied to kill me," Odin said.
Tyr went still.
"You're lying," Tyr accused.
Odin turned and looked Tyr directly in the eye. "Am I?"
Tyr had always had trouble figuring out Odin's intentions. The All-Father was a wise and enigmatic man who only showed exactly what he wanted. Tyr had never questioned him before, never doubted his intentions -- never had to bother trying to learn how to discern truth from lies. Tyr trusted Odin.
Tyr was starting to regret that, now.
"Why would you keep him around in the first place?" Tyr asked. "Why change your mind now?"
"It was a mistake to keep it around at all," Odin said quietly. "I thought... regardless, the wolf has taken a liking to war far more than I expected. A taste for bloodshed that outweighs even my son's. No, its actions are inevitable. We cannot allow it to remain."
"I can... speak to him," Tyr said. His rage had left him. He sounded desperate, now, but all he felt was dread. "We can avert the future you heard..."
"No, Tyr," Odin said. He sounded resigned. "I need your aid in this. You're my right-hand."
Tyr hesitated.
"After everything we've been through," Odin said, "I have to know that I can [[trust]] you."Tyr trusted Odin.
Perhaps too much, the day had proven, but he trusted Odin all the same. Odin was the reason Tyr had been allowed to stay within the halls of Asgard at all.
Tyr was Odin's left-hand. The General of the Aesir. He'd led countless conflicts against the jötnar. He'd stood as intimidation in hundreds of negotiations with the dwarves. He'd been the lead architect of the Aesir's victory in the war against the Vanir.
He had few friends within the nine realms, he knew, but that had never bothered him. He knew that a legacy as a just man would outweigh any disputes his peers had with him.
He'd never doubted that standing by Odin's side would lead him to that just legacy.
So.
He felt sick. He'd downed half a bottle of his strongest mead and had thrown it up minutes later, like he was a boy again. The halls of his keep were empty (he'd called in a favor with the dwarves, to have the structure of his keep enlarged for Fenrir to fit. And then he'd done it again, years later.)
Fenrir was out. All the better for the choice Tyr was about to make.
Or had already made.
Tyr marched out of his keep, took his leave of Asgard, and sought out the [[dwarves]].<center>The first fetter the dwarves had named ''[[Leyding]]''.<center>When Odin and Tyr strode through Asgard, with Leyding in Tyr's hands, the Aesir knew instantly what was happening.
They accrued a variety of looks -- Skade looked mocking, Thor distressed, Njord pitying -- but none of them spoke up.
Fenrir was inspecting a runestone depicting his own image when the two found him.
"Fenris-Wolf," Odin called out, drawing Fenrir's attention.
Fenrir's ears perked up. "All-Father," he said, "and Tyr. What brings you by?"
Fenrir had grown "wise" -- the type of wisdom Tyr had claimed to have, when he was young but had felt old. And yet despite Fenrir's attempt at sounding aloof, Tyr could pick out the note of excitement that was always in his voice when Tyr met with him, the note of pride that was always there when Odin deigned to speak with him.
Tyr steadied his breath. His grip on Leyding was white-knuckled.
"We come bearing to you a test of strength," Odin said, sounding jolly. "Some trinket from the dwarves. They claim it unbreakable, and yet you are one of our strongest. I'd see how strong it really is, if that pleases you?"
Fenrir may have tried to appear aloof all he wanted, but the slight wagging of his tail betrayed him.
"An artifact from the dwarves," Fenrir murmured, the sound so loud that it rumbled pleasingly. He was bigger than a house on Midgard, now. "Yes, All-Father, I would say that I am stronger than it. Let us see."
And so Odin and Tyr affixed the fetter Leyding onto Fenrir's body, binding his legs and his body. And Fenrir kicked out and snapped the fetter with a single movement.
"Exactly as impressive as I had expected," Odin praised.
[[Fenrir preened]].<center>The Aesir returned to the dwarves.
The second fetter the dwarves had named ''[[Dromi]]''.<center>"Why, Fenris-wolf," Odin called out.
This time, Fenrir had been resting in a pile of hay he'd gathered for a bed. Fenrir rose, shaking the sleep from his mind, and stood to attention when he registered Odin and Tyr's presence.
"All-Father," Fenrir said, "and... oh! Another of those fetters."
"Indeed," Odin said. "The dwarves claim it stronger than the last. Far stronger. And you know how those dwarves exaggerate their own prowess, but I nearly believe them this time."
Fenrir considered Dromi.
"Now," Odin continued, "breaking the previous was impressive, but if you were to break this one, I figure your name would be known all throughout Nidavellir."
"I would like that," Fenrir admitted. "And I suppose no one became great without taking risks. Affix it to me."
And so Odin and Tyr affixed the fetter Dromi onto Fenrir's body, binding his legs and his body. And Fenrir kicked out and struggled against the fetter, and in the work of nine seconds the metal snapped so destructively that pieces of it flew into the distance.
"Such power!" Odin praised. He laughed jovially. "You might even be stronger than my son!"
Fenrir laughed, brimming with pride -- except there was a faint note of something like [[suspicion]] in his voice.<center>The plan was not working.
And so Odin gathered some of the Aesir up, and discussed,
and they came to a decision.
They sent Skirnir, the messager, Freyr's servant, off to the highest points of the Myrkheim,
and the dwarves there began their construction of a third fetter.
And to fashion it they stole,
the sound of a cat's footstep,
the roots of a mountain,
the breath of a fish,
and other impossible things,
and they created the third fetter.
It was as thin as silk, and yet stronger than anything that existed, the dwarves claimed.
They called it [[Gleipnir]].<center>They met Fenrir on a small island in the midst of a lake. It was a holy site to the Aesir, and they arrived as a group for the presentation of Gleipnir. Their hopes were low -- they figured if Gleipnir failed there was no binding the wolf -- and so, along with Odin and Tyr came Njord and Skade, Freyr and Freyja, Heimdall and Thor, and more.
And they met Fenrir on that island, and Fenrir met them with some confusion.
"Fenris-Wolf," Odin called, "we come to you a third time with yet another artifact from the dwarves. Even those of Asgard are excited to see you tangle with this fetter."
Fenrir looked down at Gleipnir that Tyr held. It was as thin as a single length of twine.
"I'm quite confident that you could break it," Odin said.
"I am confident as well," Fenrir replied. He stared at Gleipnir. "It's a mere ribbon, All-Father. I would rather expect that I could break it, and doing so would yield no fame, I do believe. Unless there's some form of trick behind it -- in which case that thing is not going around my legs."
The Aesir gathered shifted uncomfortably, but Odin met Fenrir's gaze and clicked his tongue.
"A sudden bout of cowardice?" he questioned. "You shattered iron with no trouble. Why, if you can't break this, we'll simply free you after -- we'd no reason to trap you if you were so weak, after all."
Fenrir growled. "If I cannot free myself," he said, "then I would have to trust you all to free me, and..."
"You don't?" Odin asked. He didn't even pretend to sound offended -- no one in Asgard had ever tried to hide their opinions of Fenrir.
"Not quite," Fenrir said. "But I won't stand you all questioning my courage. Give me some form of [[collateral]], to ensure your honesty, and I will accept this challenge."Tyr could read the mood without even having to look towards the Aesir.
What collateral could the Fenris-Wolf possibly want, they were surely thinking, and who would be willing to give it up? Tyr knew that he, above all the others, had the responsibility here. So he straightened his back and strode forward.
"I will offer up my hand," he said, "for you to hold in your mouth. And if we are, indeed, tricking you, then you may bite it off."
The Aesir were deathly quiet. Fenrir met Tyr's eyes and his tense demeanor relaxed, his eyes softening with trust. "Acceptable," he deemed.
And so Fenrir gently locked Tyr's right hand in-between his jaws, while Odin set about attaching Gleipnir to each of Fenrir's legs, and finally Odin wrapped it around Fenrir's neck.
And Fenrir kicked out and struggled against the fetter, and found that it held fast. And the more he struggled and thrashed against the binding, the stronger it became, wrapping him tighter and tighter until he could scarcely move.
Fenrir's eyes shone with panic. He met Tyr's gaze.
Some of the assorted Aesir howled with laughter as the wolf proved to be stuck.
Tyr could not lie any longer. He closed his eyes in resignation.
(He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the moment Fenrir's confusion changed into realization, into betrayal.)
Tyr waited. It felt like a thousand years passed by; in reality, a matter of moments before Fenrir snapped his jaws together and wrenched Tyr's [[hand]] off of his body.They locked Fenrir onto that island, tied Gleipnir to the ground itself, and then they left.
Fenrir howled so loudly that they heard it back in Asgard.
"You did the right thing," Odin assured him.
Tyr stared at his missing sword hand, remembered the sudden jarring feeling of his body being severed. The empty gap where his wrist should have been, the phantom feeling of his fingers moving.
(Tyr remembered the sickness he'd felt at the idea of...)
Tyr didn't respond.
And Odin said, "Perhaps with this the prophecy can be averted."