Loki (27 page)

“
What do you mean?”

“
Your mother was murdered while you suckled. Your brother and sister were murdered, as well, innocent babes who had done no harm to any.”

Fenrir felt the truth of what the apparition told him. Rage boiled up inside him. He had sought answers, and they had been bleaker than he imagined. While he did not feel for those he had never known, he felt for how he had been cheated.

“
They will come for you as well. You were only let loose here for a time. They will bind you and torture you as they will do to me.”

“
Who killed them?”

“
You know who. It is he who has a debt to repay, he who has attempted to make redress for those murders, he who has provided you with life to balance out those he took.”

“
Tyr,” he growled, baring his teeth and tensing his muscles.

“
Now you see why he could not provide you with the answers you sought.”

“
I will kill him.” He pictured the god tossing him great joints of meat and felt the hot stab of betrayal.

“
He sees your threat and plans to move against you even now. It may be too late. He is powerful.”

“
I've grown strong here. I will come for him. I will feast on his insides.”

“
Then you must be swift. Any delay and you will be lost as well.”

“
You will not join me?”

“
I cannot now. I lack the power. But we will meet soon enough, and I will relish the tale of how you killed Tyr.”

Fenrir grunted in response and then sprinted away. As he ran into the darkness of the trees, Loki's form shifted.

He grew taller and thinner, and a gray cloak covered him. His skin wrinkled and his beard grew gray and long. In his hand was a tall spear. He watched Fenrir's form disappear into the darkness with his one good eye.

The Binding of Fenrir

Fenrir grew quickly on the golden fields of Asgard, and in time attained an enormous size. All the Aesir feared him, but would not stain Asgard’s holy ground with his blood. Instead, he was allowed to continue roaming unfettered and unmolested.

As he grew in size the anger in his heart grew, and his grumblings worried the gods; so much so that none would agree to feed him for fear that they might be made into the wolf’s meal.

All, that is, save Tyr. He alone of the gods did not fear the wolf, and would regularly throw him great joints of meat that would be greedily devoured. Fenrir, however, felt no gratitude towards Tyr. In fact, he felt nothing but hate and anger towards all of the Aesir.

Odin called a council one day to discuss the threat posed by the wolf.

“
He is a danger to all,” said Balder.

“
He only bides his time before swooping in for the kill,” said Hod.

“
He must be bound before he does any harm,” said Freyja. “I will travel to the dwarfs and have them craft a fetter to bind him.”

Freyja traveled to Nidavellir to meet with the dwarfs. Deep in their underground world the dwarfs worked on all manner of objects, continually crafting items. Despite their ugly and base appearance, they were master craftsmen and could make anything if given enough time.

The dwarfs were not eager to do anything for the gods without payment, but once they had seen the size of Freyja’s purse, the dwarfs set to work on a fetter so strong that nothing in the Nine Worlds could sunder it.

After nine nights, they produced the fetter and brought it forth for Freyja to examine. She opened the box they had placed it in and was surprised to see a slender ribbon, barely heavy enough to register in the hand of the goddess.

“
What is this?” she asked.

“
This is the ribbon Gleipnir, and it is the strongest bond ever crafted. Even the mighty Fenris Wolf will not be able to break it.”

Freyja was doubtful. “How can so slender a ribbon hold the wolf? He would snap it in an instant.”

The old dwarfs’ eyes gleamed with mischief. “It is made from things that are rarely seen or felt. That is the secret to its strength.”

Freyja was still not convinced, although she was loathe to voice the doubt she felt in front of such master craftsmen, old and ugly though they be. “What is it made of?” she asked.

The old dwarfs smiled wickedly. “It is made of six things: the silence of a cat fleeing, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the strength of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird. These things may not seem to exist, but many such things are in our safekeeping.”

Freyja was satisfied with the answer and took Gleipnir back to Asgard.

The Aesir knew that Fenrir would not agree to be bound, so they decided to use trickery on him. Fenrir was roaming the fields of Asgard when a group of Aesir approached him. “Certainly you have grown strong feasting on lamb and cattle raised on Asgardian soil,” Balder said.

Fenrir regarded the bunch of gods with contempt. “Yes,” he said. “I have grown large, and I can see that you are afraid of me.”

The Aesir could see the evil smile on his snout, and were more certain than ever that Fenrir needed to be bound. Balder said, “You are indeed strong, but I am sure there are some things that are beyond even your abilities.”

Fenrir’s smile faded, to be replaced with a sneer. “It is said that I will swallow the sun one day. How could there be any limit to my strength?”

Balder smiled inwardly. The wolf’s vanity had ensnared him. “I am sure your strength exceeds all normal bounds, but the dwarfs in Nidavellir have crafted items that would deny even your ability.”

Fenrir growled low and took a menacing step forward. The gods felt cold fear at his advance. “No item—dwarf or otherwise—can withstand my might.”

Balder brought out the slender ribbon.

Fenrir eyed Gleipnir cautiously. He was not unwise, despite what the gods may have thought, and he suspected trickery in their actions. Still, he could not back down from a display of strength for fear of looking cowardly. “What is that thing?” he asked.

Balder took a step forward and held the slim ribbon out at arm’s length. “It is but a ribbon—called Gleipnir—crafted by the dwarfs in Nidavellir. They claim it is unbreakable, but they are obviously too boastful. How could this light ribbon compare with your strength?” He made as if he were putting Gleipnir away.

“
Hold, little god,” Fenrir said. “I will allow you to wrap the ribbon around me if,” he paused, eyeing the group of hated gods carefully, “one of you places his hand in my jaws as a sign of good faith.”

Balder and the others had not expected this condition, and none were willing to put a hand in the wolf’s mouth for the knowledge of what would happen should Gleipnir hold. Finally, Tyr strode forward and stuck a hand out bravely. The wolf’s jaws closed lightly over the god’s hand, and he said, “Wind the ribbon round me.”

Balder lost no time in binding the wolf with Gleipnir. When he was finished, there was barely enough slack for Fenrir to breathe. The gods watched with anxiety as the wolf arched his back and strained his muscles, but there was no effect; Gleipnir held. Aghast, Fenrir pushed his muscles to their utmost. The ground shook with the effort, and some of the gods were thrown from their feet, but in the end he was unable to even tear the mighty ribbon.

The deception now fully clear, he closed his jaws and sank his teeth into Tyr’s arm. The god howled in pain as the wolf ripped his hand off and choked it down. From that day forward the wrist was known as the wolf-joint. The other gods laughed to see him bound.

Balder approached him, fear dissolved now that the beast was fully bound. “I suppose there are things that rival even your strength, like the wit of the gods.”

Fenrir would have bitten Balder's head off, but he could not even move, and it felt as though Gleipnir was constricting him further with every breath.

The gods fastened Gleipnir to a large boulder and drove it down into the earth, into a hollow cave far below the surface where his struggle to be free would not even be felt on the surface. Fenrir snapped his jaws and attempted to do further damage, so one of the gods drew his sword and rammed it into the wolf’s snout, a gag to keep his jaws closed.

And as Fenrir lies there, bound under the earth, his slaver continuously runs, a flowing river of spittle. He will lie there bound till Ragnarok, when his fetters will split and he will burst forth to have his vengeance on those who wronged him . . .

Chapter Eighteen

Unn dropped another load of logs near the fireplace. He was tired from hauling them, but was grateful that he was not in the kitchen. Restocking the supply of logs for the fireplaces throughout the hall was hard work, but at least it was not the sweaty drudgery of kitchen work where the fires never ceased. He would likely be chopping down wood in the next few days, and while that work was strenuous, he would relish being out in the open air.

He walked through to the main hall with his cart in tow. There were still large piles of logs stacked outside the front doors, and he had much work to do before Lord Tyr returned from Lord Balder's hall.

He had been both flattered and terrified to be asked to accompany Lord Tyr to deliver meat to the wolf. Those who went with him on such an errand were usually servants who had been there for much longer than Unn, and he wondered if it boded well for him. He was eager to impress the god so that perhaps he could rise in the ranks and become a personal servant, one who interacted with Lord Tyr on a regular basis, instead of one who simply attended to the day-to-day duties of the hall, as most servants did.

And had there not been a gesture? Lord Tyr had laid a hand on his shoulder, had told him that he would protect him if the wolf attacked. None of the Aesir were given to reassuring servants, but all Asgardians knew that they would protect this holy realm and its inhabitants—both gods and mortals—against the forces of chaos. To be personally reassured by a lord of the Aesir was surely a prophetic sign.

This thought in mind, he stepped up his pace. He did not fool himself that one job well done would bring the attention of a lord of the Aesir. It was possible, however, that if he continued to serve with distinction he could become more than a castle hand.

The look of determination on his face faltered when he heard something slam into the front doors just ahead of him. He stopped, fear spreading through his body. The large wooden doors, strong enough to withstand pounding by giants, had buckled. Small wisps of dust from around the frame were caught by the few rays of light that streamed in from windows high overhead.

As he stood there, uncertain of what to do, the doors shook again. More dust fell from the frame, and Unn could hear the wood planks splinter. He backed away slowly, forgetting to let go of his cart.

Once more something slammed into the doors, and one was ripped from its upper hinge. The door twisted to the floor, and a dark shape climbed through the newly created hole. It saw him, and jaws filled with teeth opened as it prowled closer.

Unn was frozen in place, the handles of the cart firmly gripped in his hand. His eyes grew wider and he began shaking as Fenrir drew slowly closer to him, a low growl wafting through the space between them.

“
Where is Tyr?” he growled. Fenrir brought his muzzle close enough that Unn could feel the hot and heavy breath on his face. It stank of rotten meat. Unn could not find the ability to answer. He simply stared up at the wolf in abject terror, unable even to look away.

“
Where is Tyr?” he repeated.

Unn somehow managed to force his mouth to move, and squeaked out one word: “Gone.”

Fenrir snarled, and Unn thought that he would now be eaten. Instead, the wolf drew back. As he looked on, he saw the flesh and fur on Fenrir's face rippling. His snout withdrew, and the face took on the slightest human quality. He sat back on his haunches, and Unn could see the arms change as well. The paws spread out and became hands with clawed fingers. He stood up, and his legs were that much more human.

He still towered over Unn, but he was no longer simply a wolf. He was somehow more terrible as a blend of wolf and man than he had been as merely beast.

He reached out a heavy, clawed hand and placed it on Unn's shoulder. “We will wait,” he said. “But you will do something for me.”

Unn nodded, grateful that he would not be ripped to shreds. Fenrir brought his head closer and stared Unn in the eye. Apart from the fear, he felt something quite different. He could hear the wolf’s thoughts, and he knew what he wanted him to do. Reluctantly, Unn moved away to complete his task, compelled by the will of the creature.

“
Have you ever seen its like before?” Balder asked, holding Gleipnir up for Tyr to observe.