A Moment With Fenrir
by Elizabeth Vongvisith
I had been a Northern-Tradition
spirit-worker for a couple of years, but I had not encountered Fenrir until I
witnessed two spirit-possessions by this son of Loki and Angrboda within the
space of a few days. It wasn't until then that I began to understand the great
Wolf and appreciate both his power and the wisdom of those who bound him.
When Fenrir was horsed by a man who had been chained up for the purpose, I saw him clearly. It was as if my Sight telescoped out between the worlds, through and past the man horsing him and into the realm where Fenrir is chained. I could see a great brindled wolf, yellow of eye and sharp of fang, teeth bared and every muscle and sinew tense with unimaginable, tortured strength. During the next few minutes, I saw what Sky-treader's most terrible offspring really is...and that was surprisingly difficult to endure.
At first I was overcome with a strong desire to run away, but though I took one or two steps back, I found myself unable to move further. Fenrir's enormous rage overwhelmed me, even bound and controlled as he was. And while some of his rage is directed at those who fettered him thus, much of it is simply the savage desire to tear apart whoever and whatever stands in his path, the ecstasy of dealing out pain and death. I understood right away that were he given the chance, Fenrir would most likely devour me without a second thought. I doubt it would matter that I am not his enemy, that I am beloved of Loki his father, or that I also serve his sister, Hela. The knowledge was sobering, because while I had held it in my head for some time before that, this was the first time I had felt it with my heart.
It's a humbling thing to really know for the first time that for all your imagined gifts, "higher purpose" and self-importance, you are merely meat to be flayed from your bones before being swallowed in pieces. Those who believe that the beings of the Nine Worlds are all at their disposal or command would do well to avoid contact with Fenrir lest their illusions be very painfully stripped away - though that might just be the best thing for them. There is no mortal alive who can subdue Fenrir or calm his fury if he were to break his chain. To see him is to know, totally and completely, that there is no turning the Powers That Be on and off at will, despite what humans like to tell themselves. "Nature red in tooth and claw" doesn't even come close to describing him.
For all Fenrir's wildness, though, he has a shrewd mind that knows full well why he is there and why he was chained, though he deeply resents it. He has given himself over to bloodlust, yet he is willing to bide his time, to wait patiently until the day comes when he can once more run amok and have his revenge on those who bound him. And because of all this, there is a sort of strange dignity about Fenrir, a majesty that utterly belies his reputation as a mere indiscriminating beast. That realization broke my terror apart and allowed it to give way to a sudden pain that pierced me to the core and literally took my breath away. I tried once more to tear myself away from the scene and leave, and again I found that I could not.
In those moments, thought it was painful, I began to understand the Mystery of the great wolf, bound until the end of the Nine Worlds. I stood there distraught, weeping as Fenrir's snarls and growls came to my ears from both this world and the other, and all the time I remained aware that were he not chained, he could easily kill those of us within his reach. I watched as Fenrir was quieted by a divine hand and gradually put to sleep, to dream things I'm not certain I want to know about. When it was over and the man horsing him slowly sat up, dazed and himself again, in my mind's eye I could still see Fenrir, restless in his slumber in a world far away. In the wake of his departure, I experienced a rush of mingled and confusing emotions - relief, sadness, anger, sympathy and a profound respect too - the kind of respect I'd have for an erupting volcano. I can appreciate it and even love it, but I have no illusions that either my appreciation or my love will protect me from its hot magma and choking ash.
To know and understand Fenrir is to know and understand that destruction sometimes comes for no purpose other than destruction itself, and that this is as much a part of a functioning universe as life, love and rebirth. Ragnarok or no, I fear there will be no happy ending to Fenrir's story - but I likewise suspect that it doesn't matter to him either way. He is what he is and neither cares to appear otherwise, nor tries to. He is unapologetic in his lusts, a hunter and a killer without conscience or shame. Fenrir is the mightiest of sorrows, chaos uncontrollable - bound for the present, but never truly tamed, and his Mystery is that this is both tragedy and cause for reverence.
Artwork by Hvitfrost.