I can still see them slapping their thighs in laughter, I can still hear their whoops of mirth while I was cradling my bloody arm. The wolf was looking at me and we read our loss in each other's eyes.
The prophecy had come, foretelling his family would be our bane, bringing doom and destruction. When the threat became too great, they abducted the three children from their mother and tried to get rid of them - without killing them. Fenrir, they locked in a cage and they would have let him starve in spite of his anguished howls. Why would they have cared? They did the same to his brother and sister, hurling them in the dark depths of forgotten places.
Their claims of holiness and peace-stead were just to hide their cowardice: no one dared to face Fenrir, but neither his impressive jaws nor his painful bites could rebuke me. In spite of his ferocious welcomes, there was something between us; I was his only companion. His mother was forbidden to come to our realm, his siblings had been cast away and Loki never spared a thought for his mistreated eldest son - nor for his other children.
Fenrir's strength soon rendered him able to break free of his cage and I have to admit that I did nothing to prevent this from happening. Knowing that the great wolf was roaming unhindered in our halls created panic among my family.
None of them had the courage to face my gigantic charge so they resolved to bind him. They tried to make Fenrir believe it was a game, they feigned marvel at his great strength and chained him with the strongest chains they could find. I don't think Fenrir believed them but if he did, it was only for a short moment: he could see eagerness when they were tying him up, but only grim faces when he was breaking the chains like cobwebs.
Finally he whom they call my father, Odin, asked help from the mountains dwarves. Young Skirner, usual messenger of Freyr, went to them and came back with the impossible Gleipnir, the soft and thin ribbon of the dwarves. Each in my family tried his strength against it, in vain. Even mighty Thor had to renounce. Odin and my family rejoiced at such a gift.
With Gleipnir, they went to Fenrir, smiling brightly to hide their dark intentions. Seeing the ribbon, the wolf suspected treachery and magic. He listened to their flatteries without letting them know he had unmasked their deceitfulness. Thor himself admitted he couldn't break Gleipnir and that the bets were that only Fenrir could.
In spite of the compliment, Fenrir was not fooled. A ribbon so thin yet so strong had to be from the guileful craft of the dwarves. Used to have him humouring them, they did not understand his reluctance and insisted. He knew they could leave him chained were he to fail to snap Gleipnir. They denied it forcefully like one man.
Intend on shunning the word coward - his vanity forbidding it - Fenrir finally agreed to the challenge, on the condition of a token of good will: to prevent deceit, one of us would put a hand in his mouth as a pledge. Should we trick him and fail to release him, the hand would be forfeited.
They were suddenly very silent. A one-handed warrior was no warrior. No one cared for the dishonour; Fenrir, knowing it also, began to smile. Wordlessly, I opened my right hand, weaponless, and placed it between Fenrir's jaws. I saw betrayal in the wolf's eyes, even though his fangs were slowly closing on my hand.
The Aesir gods - could I still call them family? - lost no time in chaining Fenrir with soft Gleipnir. I could fully appreciate their efficiency and eagerness. Fenrir gathered his strength - taking care of not biting me - but no matter how hard he tried to break free, Gleipnir only tightened its grip on him.
The Aesir began to laugh, congratulating each other of their cleverness. Fenrir understood only too well that he had been right: he wasn't to be freed.
He looked at me. He and I were the only ones not laughing. His yellow eyes had a flash of apology before he bit my hand off, severing it neatly at the wrist. Obviously exceedingly diverted, they didn't stop to laugh when I stepped back.
No matter how joyful they were of seeing their adversary at least powerless, they were still cautious and they chained him even more securely, thrusting Gleipnir in a rock they hurled deep in earth. Fenrir fought back, trying to bite them, raging, his jaws opened wide as to swallow them. Swiftly and boldly, Thor plunged a sword in the wolf's mouth, the point piercing the upper jaw.
His howl of rage and pain was terrible, shaking the ground where I was still standing. Foam ran from his mouth, in so great a quantity that a river flew out of it and they called it Vam, the river of the vices.
Since that day, I have been the one-handed god. They say 'brave as Tyr' or 'sagacious as Tyr' but they never realise that I betrayed he who trusted me. I often go to sit by the rock Gioll and I take the sword from Fenrir's mouth. There is no condemnation in his eyes and he always let me place the sword back between his jaws in spite of the pain.
He still considers me as a warrior though I am no more. Odin took my place. I am said not to like when men live in peace. It isn't so. I don't like when gods live in peace. They took my life and friend from me, gave me laughs and indifference for only thanks, am I supposed to bear it peacefully? I am not peaceful, though I lost my hand in a futile attempt to preserve my world. For the good it did to me, I could have let it disappear sooner. I am not peaceful; I am - was - a god of war and sometimes, I think I should undo the knot and let it begin, Ragnarök, the doom of gods.
Check the story of the conception of Herald of Sorrow: Herald of Sorrow - The Conception!
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