The flame licks us with colored light and pleasant warmth. His expression and silence make the rest of the tribe hush. And as the world is fully dark and quiet, the tribe’s eyes watch the ancient man, whose fire, whose stars can be seen lighting his eyes.
“Fenris Wolf was once so young. He befriends everyone who likes to eat what is edible, sleep in any nook next to a tree, or under a limitless sky. And when darkness envelops above, he knows he is home and satisfied. Yet he grows large, like a great son who will grow into a mighty warrior and protect his tribe.
The Fenris wolf’s best friend is the god Tyr. Listen well: we are alive to wonder at the world as distant children of the gods because of Tyr’s lie to his friend Fenris.
Fenris keeps growing and eating, yet he grows so quickly the gods become afraid. They commission the dwarves to bind Fenris, and the dwarves contrive to make a ribbon almost as light as thought, spun from impossible things: a line made of numbers, a movement with no time to move, a division of things with no limit, a love that falls instead of flying, a lie that never finishes the telling, a work of art that does not nourish the soul. These knots, made real, become the limits of Fenris’s growth.
To persuade Fenris Wolf to try the ribbon against his strength, Tyr, god of law, agrees to put his hand in Fenris’ mouth. Fenris is bound—and bound well. No matter how he strains against it, Fenris cannot escape his bonds. And finally, Fenris bites off Tyr’s hand… because Tyr’s hand guides the world into half-truths, to control a fear that the gods feel… for their sovereignty, their jealousy for power and control.
Loki sees his son Fenris bound… and it gets him thinking…
And when Baldr, the God of light, is prophesied to die, his mother goes to every being, every lie revealed by the ever-penetrating sun’s light and turned into knowledge… she extracts an unbreakable oath from each, that they cannot hurt Baldr. Not metal blades nor wooden clubs, not falling rocks nor sinking quicksand—all are bound by oath, sworn upon Odin’s spear, Gungnir.
Yet a small green plant… called mistletoe, is deemed too small and too simple to be any danger. It is poisonous, yes, but there is no poison that can kill a god…
This little green life is overlooked partly because… no one can fit it perfectly within the knowledge the light reveals. Tiny green life begins by devouring the sun’s energy. It reflects green. Green is not what it is… and so… what is it?
Loki is the most cunning, even more than Odin. Though Loki lacks the wisdom of Odin, he is so intelligent the other gods seem like children—powerful children… playthings for his games. Somehow… Loki shapes mistletoe into a weapon… and Baldr, the god of light, falls.
Baldr has no choice after his death (for a god’s death is not as final as that of mortals) but to follow the order of the universe and travel to the underworld, the domain of Hel, daughter of Loki.
Even then, the god of light is so beloved that the gods send an emissary to beg Hel for his return. Hel agrees—if all beings touched by the sun will weep for Baldr. And so the gods ask, and all weep for the shining one… even mistletoe weeps in its tiny spirit. Yet it is ‘Gratitude,’ a reddish-colored troll, who does not weep. Yes—it is out of Gratitude, an emotion so strangely bound to the love of the Sun, that Baldr is exiled to the underworld… and some suspect Loki’s hand in this.
Fenris will spend eternity deprived of the light the gods—the greatest teachers—might have kindled in him when he was a pup. He is an intelligent son of Loki. If the gods had lit even a small flame in his mind, instead of acting from fear… Fenris would not have become what he is.
At Ragnarok, Fenris will break free not with strength, but with understanding… Fenris will grow still in body, until his frustrated howls grow still… until his mind grows still. He will feel the restlessness that a still mind reveals… and become more still. Then the thoughts of his bonds will cease to bind, and Fenris will be free. After his profound escape, he will not be able to face his eternity of struggle, hunger, and fear.
Freed, he will rise black and vast as the night sky. He will devour the most generous giver of the cosmos… and the sun will be swallowed by Fenris Wolf. With the last light cut short, the world will descend into a dim glow given only by the stars.
Look up, children… and ponder gratitude… ponder mistletoe… ponder stillness… and remember what hunger can do to your most beloved pet.”