Who is Fenrir?
What we know from myth, history, and inspiration
There are few of the Rökkr
more demonized than Fenris, or Fenrir, second child of Loki and Angrboda, and
few that fall easier into that category. Angrboda was the Mother of Wolves; as
leader of the Wolf Clan of the Iron Wood, the majority of her children were
werewolf-giants. However, her eldest son by Loki was larger, fiercer, and
wilder than all the rest. He grew so huge that it was said that when he opened
his mouth, his jaws reached to heaven and earth. When he reached adulthood, he
began to go on killing sprees, devouring everything in his path, and he was
large and strong enough that no chain could hold him. (The Aesir tried, first
with a magical chain called Laeding and then with one called Dromi, but he
broke each in turn.)
Then the Aesir hired the Duergar to forge a chain out of gold melted with six impossible things (the roots of a mountain, the beard of a woman, the footfall of a cat, the breath of a fish, the nerves of a bear, the spittle of a bird), and chained him. The story of how he was chained is told in Kevin Filan's essay on Fenris elsewhere on this site, but suffice it to say that he now dwells in a cave under a mountain on Lyngvi's Island in Lake Amsvartnir in Niflheim. There he waits, broods, and occasionally flings himself against the chain and the blade holding him, and waits for the day when he can break loose and wreak his revenge.
Easy to demonize, yes … and it would be folly to do so. Fenris is a deity, not a demon; like all the Gods - and all the Rökkr Gods - he is the embodiment of a sacred truth. The mystery of Fenris is not an easy or uncomplicated or straightforward thing. People who are still instinctively dividing up the world into good or bad as whether it causes them pain or inconvenience are not ready for his mystery.
Fenris is, in many ways, Jotun essence taken to its furthest point, its ultimate uncompromised end. This means understanding that when we say that the Jotnar are, by nature, part of nature... that means also that they partake of the entirety of nature and not just the euphemized happy bits that we like to pretend are what nature "really is". Every part of nature is dangerous and not terribly disposed to privilege humans over any other part. The sea eats people, the fire lays waste to countrysides, the ice storm freezes you, the earth will receive your corpse and fill it with maggots. Our planet whirls around a sun that will burn out, in a galaxy that will wind down and disintegrate before it can explode again into life.
To understand these things as not only "not negative" but as awesome, mind‑bending, even beautiful ‑ that's how we understand Jotun nature. It's terrifying, yes ‑ and there is also a good and benevolent side, but you don't get only that aimed at you, ever. It's about accepting the whole package without this secret fingers‑crossed idea that if they just like you enough, the forces of nature will make a special exception for you. And that doesn't work.
To see Fenris is to see a magnificent creature who must be
chained, or he'll eat the world. It's seeing the grandeur of a hurricane, an
earthquake, a solar flare, and knowing that this too is the hand of the
divine... and at the same time knowing that they will do terrible harm. Fenris
is what he is, entirely and fully, and he will not compromise himself to be
anything else for anyone else... even if he must be bound. Are there things
about your nature that you would rather be imprisoned than compromise? If not,
then perhaps you might not understand Fenris. He embodies our ambivalence
toward the Universe, which sees us as expendable flecks of dust. … and the only
way to get around that is to see from a higher perspective, one that can
appreciate the divinity of ambivalences.
Loki and Angrboda both love their children immensely, and that includes Fenris. They miss him, and are sad for him, and weep that he must be chained. At the same time, they didn't stop it from happening ‑ even Angrboda the Mother of Monsters, who would go to the wall for her children ‑ because they knew it was necessary.
There is a truth I know that I've seen happen, as well as experiencing it myself: Those who look the Great Bound Wolf in the eye and fully see him, completely know him, always weep. To truly understand both the magnificence and the sorrow that is Fenris is to be swept up in that sorrow, if only for a few moments. I honor my own ambivalences, as I honor the ambivalence of his existence. Not everything is easy, black and white, and anyone who tries to see him in either light has missed the point.
Fenris is, in many ways, the ultimate expression of Jotun nature without boundaries. He is what he is. He would rather die than be other than what he is. He is frightening, yes. But it was valuable to me to see him, to speak with him, to hear his wisdom ‑ and yes, it is wisdom ‑ about the dark places in the soul. He is an expert on that. For those of us with Jotun blood, and attendant anger-management issues it may bring (especially those of us with the predator-hunger within us), we can find great value in working with Fenris, and not just as an object lesson in self-control. To come to terms with this kind of inner Beast necessitates seeing it as not entirely negative, even if it must be chained. To deal with it in a healthy way requires learning to love it for what it is, and that means learning to see its magnificence. To weep for Fenris, to revere and honor him, gives us a place to stand with regard to honoring this part of ourselves.
Wolves were an important and ambivalent symbol in the lives of Europeans as well. The wolf was universally feared and loathed by the average peasant, whose experience with them was the predator that threatened their flocks and perhaps, in a lean year, even the peasants themselves and their children. On the other hand, the warrior classes saw the wolf in terms of power, fierceness, and bonding to a pack; many of them were predators themselves, and ironically appreciated the wolf for just that ambivalent nature. Whether the peasants were their pack or their prey would vary from situation to situation, and on some level they understood this well.
On the other hand, a lone wolf was a problem. The word for outlaw in northern Europe was "wolf's head", referring to the bounty on the severed heads of lone wolves who became a problem to settled villages and needed to be exterminated. In many ways, Fenris is the ultimate lone wolf figure; he is kidnapped by the Aesir as a puppy and torn from what would have been his tribe and family. Rather than eventually accept them as his pack, he runs wild and wreaks mayhem, a story that is a warning on many levels.His name literally means "fen-dweller"; one who runs in the wilderness. His name is often Anglicized as Fenris, although in Old Norse that is ironically the possessive, as in Fenrisulfr, which would literally mean "Fenris's Wolf". Some people feel that this too is literal, being that Fenrir is not a wolf-spirit per se, but a shapechanging Jotun who chooses to take on wolf form. "Fenris's Wolf" can refer to Fenris's wolf-side, his devouring aspect, which he has allowed to devour his entire nature ... except for a little bit.
There is a strange polarity
between Baldur and Fenris. Each is a sacrificed god in his own way. The Aesir
seize and sacrifice the Rökkr god who is "the darkest of the dark",
the most unbridled expression of the destructive end of Jotun nature, in order
that civilization might survive. In return, the Rökkr gods Loki and Hela
arrange to sacrifice and seize Baldur, the god who might be termed "the
brightest of the bright", the ultimate expression of Aesir glory.... in
order that civilization might survive, after Ragnarok, where he will be the ruler.
Each is held hostage to the future, one to bring about the end and one to renew
a beginning. Just as the exchange of hostages with the Vanir - Njord, Frey and
Freyja in exchange for the ill-fated Mimir and Hoenir - inextricably binds them
to the Aesir, so this exchange of hostages binds them to the Jotnar and their Rökkr
gods.