Journey of an Einherji - The Sword of Summer

The Not So Big Bad Wolf

I remember the first time I saw the Obelisk of Buenos Aires.

I was disappointed. Up close and personal, it seemed smaller than it actually was.

The same happened when I saw Fenris Wolf.

I had heard all these terrible stories about him: the gods were too scared of what he could do; he could break the strongest chains; he had eaten Tyr's hand; he was going to devour the sun on Ragnarok. I had expected a wolf bigger than the Giganotosaurus, a wolf with poisonous breath and petrifying eyes.

Instead, the Wolf was the size of an average wolf.

We stood at the top of the ledge, looking down into the valley where Fenris sat calmly on his haunches. He was larger than an average German Shepherd, but, fortunately, not bigger than me. His legs were long and muscular, built for running. His shaggy grey coat swirled with tufts of black. Nobody would've called him <<nice>>, especially with those gleaming white fangs or the bones littering around his paws, but he was a handsome animal.

I had hoped to find the Wolf lying on his side, completely tied up, fastened to the ground with nails, tacks, duct tape and Poxipol. Instead, the golden rope Gleipnir restrained him more like the leg irons used to transport criminals. The glimmering cord was tied around all four of his ankle joints, allowing enough movement for the Wolf to shuffle around. Part of the rope had apparently once been tied around the Wolf's snout like a muzzle. That section now fell across his chest in a loose loop. The rope didn't even appear to be anchored to the ground. I wasn't sure what was keeping Fenris from leaving the island, unless the heather was far more powerful than it seemed.

We were lucky we arrived then, not later. What else could have the Wolf loosen up?

"Where's the real Fenris?" - Magnus's voice took me out of my thoughts - "That has to be a decoy, right?"

"No." - Sam's knuckles whitened on the handle of her axe - "That's him. I can sense it."

The Wolf turned towards the sound of our voices. His eyes shone with blue light.

"Well." - his voice was deep and rich. His black lips curled in a very human sneer - "Who do we have here? Have the gods sent me a snack?"

I changed my impression of Fenris. Maybe his size was normal. But his eyes were colder, malicious and more intelligent than any predator I had encountered. His snout quivered as if he could smell the fear. And his voice... his voice was terrifyingly sweet, dangerously smooth. I remembered my first feast in Valhalla, when the thanes didn't allow Sam to speak in her defence because they feared she could convince them, change their minds. Now I understood why they feared the silver tongue of Loki and his children.

It had never ocurred to me to approach the Wolf. Yet his tone invited you to do it, to get closer.

The entire caldera was maybe a ninety-one meters across, which meant the Wolf was much closer than I would have liked. The ground sloped gently, but the heather was slick under my feet. I was careful with every step, not wanting to slip and slide down to the Wolf. It was like the flowers didn't want me to escape.

"I'm Magnus Chase." - Magnus said tensely - "We have an appointment."

"We do indeed, son of Frey." - the Wolf bared his teeth - "Vanir-spawn have such an interesting scent. Normally I only get to devour the children of Thor, Odin, or my old friend Tyr."

"Sorry to disppoint." - Magnus said.

"Oh, not at all." - Fenris paced, the rope gleaming between his feet, barely slowing his gait - "I'm quite pleased. I've been waiting a long time for this."