I was so small, a little ball of fluff.
Not much to look at, just a runt, they said:
The ones who came to take me from my mother.
I growled at them, they laughed derisively.
For who was I, a little mongrel whelp,
To bare my milk teeth at the mighty Aesir?
But one of them scratched me behind my ears
And let me lick his fingers. Salty, sweet.
I liked that one. That one smelled like a friend.
I met the Alpha, no, the Allfather.
He laughed at me, and called me “Little nephew”.
I didn’t understand. But then he said
That wolves were sacred to him, so despite
My parents, and my dangerous reputation
He’d suffer me to live among the gods.
If I could be a good dog for my master.
He called me dog? He thought he was my master?
I did briefly consider trying to bite him.
But even Tyr, the one with the kind hands
And friendly smell, cringed in his mighty presence
I whined, rolled over.
Hoped that I looked cute
I started growing fast, and didn’t stop
At wolf size, or at bear size. Or at dragon.
At first they were impressed. Then they were frightened,
Remembering I was no normal wolf
But of the Jötnarr. I was Giant-born.
And now I was no longer small, or cute
And when I snarled and bared my pointed teeth
I noticed that the gods no longer laughed.
Not any more. They cringed. I rather liked that.
But Tyr, of the kind hands, he still loved Fenrir
He played with me, and scratched behind my ears
Would even put his hands between my jaws.
And roll around with me. Such was his trust.
And of them all, I loved him. Although Odin
Proclaimed himself to be my only master,
If I was ever anybody’s dog
I wasn’t his: he never smelled of friendship.
But Tyr, I really did believe he loved me.
They came to me. All smiles, smelling of treason
The Aesir. Even Tyr. They said they’d brought me
A game, a challenge. Something that would prove
To all the worlds, that I was now the strongest.
My ears pricked up. And then they brought the chains.
I yelped with laughter Those would never hold me!
I let them bind me. Bigger chains, then bigger
Were soon scrap metal, strewn around the floor.
And then they brought me something they called Gleipnir
A ribbon, though it did not smell of silk
It shone, although it did not smell of silver
They smiled, although they did not smell of friendship
And went to bind me. Snarling, I drew back.
But Tyr, my friend, came up, and scratched my ears
And said there wasn’t anything to fear.
I took his sweet hand in between my jaws
This was a game? Then he would not mind playing
Our old game. I could taste the tang of fear
Upon his skin. But he agreed. He nodded,
The Aesir bound me. I could not break free.
I looked at Tyr. He nodded once again
I closed my jaws. His hand was salty, sweet.
I would have been his dog, if he had loved me,
And for his sake, I would have served his Alpha:
His Allfather. But I am no-ones dog.
And one day, Fenriswolf will be revenged.
Tom Juniper Poetry 