The Gods & the Eddas
The Binding of Fenrir — and the Hand of Týr
Loki's monstrous children
With the giantess Angrboða in Jötunheim, Loki begot three children: the wolf Fenrir; Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent; and Hel.[1] When the gods learned of this brood, and saw by prophecy that from it great ruin would befall them, Allfather had them brought to him. The Serpent he flung into the deep sea, where it grew until it circled all the land and bit its own tail; and Hel — half flesh-coloured, half blue-black — he cast down into Niflheim and gave power over nine worlds, the realm of all who die of sickness and old age.
The myth begins by spreading Loki's dark offspring across the whole cosmos: the Serpent in the encircling ocean, Hel in the underworld of the dead, and the Wolf still to be dealt with. These three are the seeds of Ragnarök, the doom already growing inside the world while the gods still rule it. Snorri's Norse mythology is shadowed throughout by this knowledge — that the agents of the end are already born, already placed, already waiting. The gods can only manage their doom, not escape it.
The source text · 1
Yet more children had Loki. Angrboda was the name of a certain giantess in Jötunheim, with whom Loki gat three children: one was Fenris-Wolf, the second Jörmungandr—that is the Midgard Serpent,—the third is Hel. But when the gods learned that this kindred was nourished in Jötunheim, and when the gods perceived by prophecy that from this kindred great misfortune should befall them; and since it seemed to all that there was great prospect of ill—(first from the mother's blood, and yet worse from the father's)—then Allfather sent gods thither to take the children and bring them to him. When they came to him, straightway he cast the serpent into the deep sea, where he lies about all the land; and this serpent grew so greatly that he lies in the midst of the ocean encompassing all the land, and bites upon his own tail. Hel he cast into Niflheim, and gave to her power over nine worlds, to apportion all abodes among those that were sent to her: that is, men dead of sickness or of old age. She has great possessions there; her walls are exceeding high and her gates great. Her hall is called Sleet-Cold; her dish, Hunger; Famine is her knife; Idler, her thrall; Sloven, her maidservant; Pit of Stumbling, her threshold, by which one enters; Disease, her bed; Gleaming Bale, her bed-hangings. She is half blue-black and half flesh-color (by which she is easily recognized), and very lowering and fierce.— gylfaginning
Loki's three children by Angrboda: Fenrir, the Midgard Serpent, Hel (Brodeur tr.).
The wolf reared among the gods
The Wolf the Æsir brought up at home, and Týr alone dared go to him to give him meat.[1] But Fenrir grew larger every day, and all the prophecies declared that he was fated to be the gods' destruction. So the Æsir resolved to bind him. They forged a mighty iron fetter called Lædingr and challenged the Wolf to test his strength against it — and at his first lashing it broke. They made a second, Drómi, half again as strong; the Wolf let it be laid on him for the fame of breaking it, and shattered that too, the fragments flying far.
The detail that Týr alone dared feed the growing monster is the seed of the whole tragedy — it binds the bravest of the gods to the creature he will help betray. And the two broken fetters establish the central problem: the Wolf cannot be held by any honest strength, only by cunning. The gods' dilemma is sharply moral: they must trick a creature they themselves reared, and they know it. The myth never lets them off easily; every step toward binding Fenrir is also a step into bad faith.
The source text · 1
The Wolf the Æsir brought up at home, and Týr alone dared go to him to give him meat. But when the gods saw how much he grew every day, and when all prophecies declared that he was fated to be their destruction, then the Æsir seized upon this way of escape: they made a very strong fetter, which they called Lædingr, and brought it before the Wolf, bidding him try his strength against the fetter. The Wolf thought that no overwhelming odds, and let them do with him as they would. The first time the Wolf lashed out against it, the fetter broke; so he was loosed out of Lædingr. After this, the Æsir made a second fetter, stronger by half, which they called Drómi, and bade the Wolf try that fetter, saying he would become very famous for strength, if such huge workmanship should not suffice to hold him. But the Wolf thought that this fetter was very strong; he considered also that strength had increased in him since the time he broke Lædingr: it came into his mind, that he must expose himself to danger, if he would become famous. So he let the fetter be laid upon him. Now when the Æsir declared themselves ready, the Wolf shook himself, dashed the fetter against the earth and struggled fiercely with it, spurned against it, and broke the fetter, so that the fragments flew far. So he dashed himself out of Drómi. Since then it passes as a proverb, 'to loose out of Lædingr,' or 'to dash out of Drómi,' when anything is exceeding hard.— gylfaginning
Týr alone dared feed the Wolf; Lædingr and Drómi both broken (Brodeur tr.).
Gleipnir, made of six impossible things
Now the Æsir feared the Wolf could never be bound. So Allfather sent Skírnir down to the dwarves, the dark-elves, who made the fetter Gleipnir — soft and smooth as a silken ribbon, but forged of six things that do not exist: the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird.[1] (And that, Hárr explains, is why none of those things can now be found — they were used up in the making of the fetter.)
Gleipnir is one of the great inventions of Norse myth — a binding made of impossibilities, things subtracted from the world so that the world itself is a little emptier for it. The dwarves' craft does what no iron could: it answers monstrous strength not with greater strength but with paradox. And the little folk-etymology — that women have no beards and cats make no sound *because* these went into Gleipnir — is Snorri's delight, weaving the myth into the texture of the everyday world the reader knows.
The source text · 1
"After that the Æsir feared that they should never be able to get the Wolf bound. Then Allfather sent him who is called Skírnir, Freyr's messenger, down into the region of the Black Elves, to certain dwarves, and caused to be made the fetter named Gleipnir. It was made of six things: the noise a cat makes in foot-fall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a rock, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird. And though thou understand not these matters already, yet now thou mayest speedily find certain proof herein, that no lie is told thee: thou must have seen that a woman has no beard, and no sound comes from the leap of a cat, and there are no roots under a rock; and by my troth, all that I have told thee is equally true, though there be some things which thou canst not put to the test."— gylfaginning
Gleipnir made by dwarves of six impossible things (Brodeur tr.).
The hand of Týr
On an island in a lake the Æsir showed the Wolf the silken band and dared him to break it. But Fenrir, suspecting cunning, said he would gain no glory by snapping so slight a thing — and that if it were made with wiles, it should never come on his feet. He would let it be laid on him only on one condition: that one of the gods lay a hand in his mouth as a pledge of good faith. Each god looked at his neighbour, and none was willing — until Týr stretched out his right hand and laid it in the Wolf's mouth.[1] The Wolf lashed out; the more he struggled, the tighter Gleipnir held; and all the gods laughed — except Týr, who lost his hand.
This is the moral heart of the myth, and one of the most powerful images in Norse religion. The pledge is a lie: the gods have no intention of freeing the Wolf, and Týr knows it. Yet the binding cannot be done without the pledge, and the pledge cannot be given without sacrifice — so Týr gives his hand to a vow he knows to be false, so that the gods may be saved by bad faith. He is at once the bravest and the most compromised of the gods: he keeps faith with the deception by paying for it with his own flesh. The laughter of the others, set against his silent maiming, is the saga-world's whole vision of honour and cost in a single sentence.
The source text · 1
Then said Gangleri: "This certainly I can perceive to be true: these things which thou hast taken for proof, I can see; but how was the fetter fashioned?" Hárr answered: "That I am well able to tell thee. The fetter was soft and smooth as a silken ribbon, but as sure and strong as thou shalt now hear. Then, when the fetter was brought to the Æsir, they thanked the messenger well for his errand. Then the Æsir went out upon the lake called Ámsvartnir, to the island called Lyngvi, and summoning the Wolf with them, they showed him the silken ribbon and bade him burst it, saying that it was somewhat stouter than appeared from its thickness. And each passed it to the others, and tested it with the strength of their hands and it did not snap; yet they said the Wolf could break it. Then the Wolf answered: 'Touching this matter of the ribbon, it seems to me that I shall get no glory of it, though I snap asunder so slender a band; but if it be made with cunning and wiles, then, though it seem little, that band shall never come upon my feet.' Then the Æsir answered that he could easily snap apart a slight silken band, he who had before broken great fetters of iron,—'but if thou shalt not be able to burst this band, then thou wilt not be able to frighten the gods; and then we shall unloose thee.' The Wolf said: 'If ye bind me so that I shall not get free again, then ye will act in such a way that it will be late ere I receive help from you; I am unwilling that this band should be laid upon me. Yet rather than that ye should impugn my courage, let some one of you lay his hand in my mouth, for a pledge that this is done in good faith.' Each of the Æsir looked at his neighbor, and none was willing to part with his hand, until Týr stretched out his right hand and laid it in the Wolf's mouth. But when the Wolf lashed out, the fetter became hardened; and the more he struggled against it, the tighter the band was. Then all laughed except Týr: he lost his hand.— gylfaginning
Týr lays his right hand in the Wolf's mouth as a false pledge; all laughed but Týr, who lost his hand (Brodeur tr.).
Bound until the Doom of the Gods
With the Wolf fully bound, the gods passed the chain through a great rock driven deep into the earth, and fixed it with a stone; and when Fenrir gaped and snapped to bite them, they thrust a sword into his mouth, the hilt in his lower jaw and the point in the upper, to gag him.[1] He howls hideously, and the slaver running from his jaws becomes a river. There he lies until the Doom of the Gods. And when Gangleri asks why the gods did not simply kill so dangerous a beast, Hárr answers: so greatly did they honour their sanctuary that they would not stain it with the Wolf's blood — though the prophecies say that he shall be the slayer of Odin.
The myth ends on its deepest and most characteristic note. The gods could end the threat forever by killing the bound Wolf — but they will not, out of reverence for their holy place, even knowing he is fated to kill the All-Father. It is the Norse vision in its purest form: doom foreseen, doom accepted, doom preserved rather than averted, because honour and the sacred matter more than survival. Fenrir lies chained and gagged and slavering through all the ages of the world, a living promise of the end — until Ragnarök looses him, and he swallows Odin, exactly as was always known he would.
The source text · 1
"When the Æsir saw that the Wolf was fully bound, they took the chain that was fast to the fetter, and which is called Gelgja, and passed it through a great rock—it is called Gjöll—and fixed the rock deep down into the earth. Then they took a great stone and drove it yet deeper into the earth—it was called Thviti—and used the stone for a fastening-pin. The Wolf gaped terribly, and thrashed about and strove to bite them; they thrust into his mouth a certain sword: the guards caught in his lower jaw, and the point in the upper; that is his gag. He howls hideously, and slaver runs out of his mouth: that is the river called Ván; there he lies till the Weird of the Gods." Then said Gangleri: 'Marvellous ill children did Loki beget, but all these brethren are of great might. Yet why did not the Æsir kill the Wolf, seeing they had expectation of evil from him?" Hárr answered: "So greatly did the gods esteem their holy place and sanctuary, that they would not stain it with the Wolf's blood; though (so say the prophecies) he shall be the slayer of Odin."— gylfaginning
The Wolf gagged with a sword, bound till the Weird of the Gods; fated slayer of Odin (Brodeur tr.).
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