Fenrir's Howl: A Canticle of Fetters and Fangs

Fenrir's Howl: A Canticle of Fetters and Fangs
(A Soliloquy in Shadows, Before the Final Bite)
Hark! Attend the gloaming's edge, ye shuddering spheres,
Where mist, like memory of vanquished years,
Clings cold to roots of Yggdrasil, the Ash.
Behold! Not stag, nor hawk, nor lightning's flash
Disturbs this dread repose �" but I, confined!
Fenrir! Whose sinews strain the cruelest bind,
Whose breath doth freeze the valiant heart to stone,
Whose name alone makes quake the Æsir's throne!
They named me Monster! Aye, and Monster proved!
When first from Angrboða's dark womb I moved,
And Loki's laughter chilled the golden hall,
A shadow fell o'er Asgard, dark and tall.
A pup, they deemed me? Soft? A thing for jest?
Tyr, brave Tyr, placed hand upon my breast
In token-faith �" a god's most solemn vow!
Yet lies became the chain upon my brow!
First Leyding, wrought of iron, thick and grim,
I burst asunder! Shards flew limb from limb!
Then Dromi, thrice as strong, with cunning art,
I shook! I shattered! Played the Æsir's part
Was naught but fraud! They smiled with poisoned teeth,
And promised freedom, whispering beneath
Their honeyed words the serpent's venom cold:
"One final test, great Wolf, both brave and bold!"
Then Gleipnir! Ah, the treachery refined!
No clang of metal met the startled mind:
The sinew of a bear, the spittle's fall
Of mountain birds, the beard of woman tall,
The breath of fishes, footfall of the cat,
And roots of stones �" such magic, woven flat!
A ribbon soft! A silken-seeming snare!
"Thy courage, Wolf!" they cried upon the air,
"If this thou breakest, boundless shalt thou run!"
But Tyr's hand stayed! The forfeit must be won!
My trust, a fool's! My fang met yielding space �"
His hand! His honour! Shattered in that place!
Now bound I lie, with Gelgja's hateful chain,
And Gjöll, the rock, doth mock my endless pain.
A sword betwixt my jaws! My howl is pent!
A river's flow of rage, in torment spent!
O, feel my fury, Æsir, sleek and proud!
It shakes the roots within the starry shroud!
The day doth come �" Ragnarok's blood-red dawn!
When Gleipnir's seams shall burst, and bonds be gone!
My jaws, wide as the gaping Helgrind gate,
Shall yawn for Odin! Seal the All-Father's fate!
The sky shall drip! The earth shall crack and moan!
As I, the Scourge, ascend my rightful throne
Of ruin! Stars themselves shall quench their fire
Reflected in the hunger I inspire!
Sun and Moon, my whelps pursue in flight,
Shall plunge to darkness, swallowed by the night!
Devourer! Aye! The title I embrace!
For what are gods but arrogance and grace
Forged into flesh? I am the Truth unchained!
The Chaos ancient, primal, uncontained!
The End that gnaws the pillars of the world!
My vengeance, like a ravening flag unfurled,
Shall paint the heavens with a crimson stain!
Odin falls! All-Father's reign undone!
The feast begins! The final feast! 'Tis won!
Then silence. Ash, and ember, cold and deep.
Where gods and monsters find their final sleep.
But ere I fade... one guttural, last sound
Shall echo where no life shall e'er be found:
Remember Fenrir! Boundless! Bound!
The Wolf who tore Creation to the ground!
(The howl subsides. Only the drip of venom,
And the slow, sure turning of the Fates' grim gem.)