I found myself in a "thing," a gathering, where all the Aesir were present, and it was naturally preceded by Odin.

He was sitting atop a great throne, and we were clearly inside Asgard City's Audience Chamber.

At the time of my appearance, Frigga was speaking. Gna, her errand-maiden, standing next to her.

"Husband, I have asked you for this gathering to discuss the prophecies I have been given by fate." Frigga started.

"Very well, wife, as Queen of Asgard, you are in your right; please enlighten us to your latest prophecy." That was all Odin said. He looked tired for some reason. He had his two eyes, no eyepatch, Gungnir resting over his legs.

"As you say," Frigga answered, bowing her head slightly; her maiden, Gna, bowed in unison, in a more profound curtsey towards Odin.

"I have been given a dream in which our Doom has been foretold." She started.

Her words had stirred every single Aesir present, murmurs going off everywhere.

"My dream spoke of Ragnarok, the end of all things, how the sun and the moon will be consumed, and how we will all die fighting a singular beast." Silence fell on all present. Until taking a step forward, Thor spoke.

"Clearly that cannot be, oh Queen, how can all the Aesir die while Thor yet lives? And even in my absence, Father and Tyr are here, and so is Heimdallr. How could Baldr die? If he is impervious to harm?"

Thor meant no disrespect; even when Frigga was not his biological mother, she had still raised him and loved him as her own. No, it was a simple request for clarification. It was evident in Frigga's face how proud she was of her child's words and how much she favored the god of thunder.

"Indeed, my child, how?" Frigga continued.

"The answer is simple, yet terrible, we will all die because Baldr will no longer be with us by then; Heimdallr will have succumbed many moons before the Ragnarok; Tyr will battle the Hellhound, while you, my beloved son, will face Jormungandr, the serpent that braces Midgard."

"If even all of you were to succeed, your personal bouts would take you time and leave you wasted; by then, we would all have fallen to the might of Fenrir, the Greatest Wolf." She answered him.

People were panicking now.

"Be calm." Said Odin, and everyone quieted down.

"How can we avert such a fate?" Odin asked her.

"We can't, Father Odin," she answered. We can only toil and bolster our ranks with Einherjar; you must create Valkyrja, chosen among our own and from mortal women. And become even more than what you are right now. Ragnarok is not only our end but also a world renewal. We must strive to ensure that some of us can survive, that the world survives."

Odin was deep in thought, a somber look taken over his countenance.

The scene changed.

I was no longer at a thing at the beginning, still inside the Audience Chamber, but the crowd was different; there were far fewer people now. Odin was sitting on his throne, with an eyepatch now, two crows perched on his shoulders, Hugin and Munin they were called. Frigga was seated next to him, Gna not far away from her but below the dais that held the thrones of Asgard. There was a third throne here, too, more petite and humble, full of reeds. Freyja, with her golden mane, sitting atop it.

This meant that the Aesir-Vanir war had already happened; this was far into the future from the previous scene.

Three women were walking down the aisle of the Chamber: an old hag aided by a cane, an exuberant and beautiful woman dressed lightly, and finally, a young little girl. The Norns, who were called mistresses of Destiny, had come all the way from the Well of Fate at Yggdrasil's feet.

"What was once foretold has come to pass," said Urd, the Hag, not standing on ceremony. She was the past Fate, a keeper of memories.

"The giantess Angrboda has been blessed with three children, Hel, her body half beautiful, half rotting; Jormungandr, the Great Serpent; and Fenrir, the Colossal Wolf. All of them Loki's children." Said Verdandi, the present, 'what comes into being.'

"So our doom is set, and you have been warned," said Skuld, the girl who was the future.

Again, not standing on ceremony, for not even the gods have any sway on Fate, the three women turned and left as quietly as they had arrived.

The scene changed once more.

I was now in a great field, carrying a cart full of meat. Walking toward 'him,' I had seen him before in Vidar's Trial, but he was not yet chained here, and Gungnir was not piercing his chest.

Fenrir was full of life and at his peak.

The gods had wanted to change Fate by bringing Fenrir to Asgard and raising him as one of their own.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

But they were all too afraid to interact with the Wolf. All except one, the one that had played with him while Fenrir was still a cub, the size of a small pig.

The one who had shown him how to hunt and how to speak, the one who was always without fault, who would bring him food, pet him, and play with him, the one who would hear him out.

Tyr, the god of war and law, was the character I played in all the visions. He was the one bringing the beast his food.

After feeding the Wolf, they sat on a hill.

"They will come again today," I found myself saying unwillingly. I am merely a passenger for now.

"Ha ha ha, they have not yet learned their lesson; they cannot make chains strong enough to bind me," Fenrir said.

"Perhaps not. Will you entertain them?" Tyr asked.

"Why not? It's fun, and their attempts make my Fame grow, and their legs tremble." The Wolf answered, amused.

Tyr then stood up and went next to a great tree; Fenrir lifted his head, watching closely, his tail slowly going from left to right.

Tyr uprooted the tree, so great was his strength, and with a gentle smile on his face, said:

"Fetch boy," and threw the tree leagues away into the field.

Fenrir stood on all fours, exited, and jumped at a dead run toward the tree.

Tyr stood there, arms crossed, patiently waiting for Fenrir to return the tree.

Fenrir came back at a slow trot, wagging his tail back and forth, deposited the tree at Tyr's feet, and lowered his head in front of him.

Tyr patted his head and petted him all over. "Who's a good boy?" He said, Fenrir whimpering and wagging his tail furiously.

They shared a natural bond, a man and his dog. Plain and simple.

The scene repeated throughout the morning, and in the afternoon, the Aesir came, and the men, for the women, feared the Wolf or were commanded not to go otherwise.

"There you are," Odin said, the gods laughing at the sight.

Fenrir stood proud; its body was angled so the gods could not see Tyr. Was the beast protecting him?

"We have come yet again to test your might, Fenrir." Odin continued.

Tyr placed his hand on Fenrir's side, petting him, trying to keep him calm.

"Since nothing we could craft could prove equal to the task of binding your feral might, we sent an envoy to the dwarves and asked them to make the greatest chain that had ever existed; instead, the curs sent us a ribbon," Odin said, laughing at the end, to which every other Aesir laughed as well.

"But, all fun aside, I could not break it. Neither could any of the here present. Now I know I'm not the strongest Aesir, not by far, but Thor is not here at the moment, and Vidar, while strong indeed, is still a child, and his strength has not matured yet." Odin went on.

"So we thought that we could have Tyr break it," the gods next to Odin supported and grunted in agreement, now serious.

Fenrir started to growl, not liking where this was going. Neither did I, to be honest, since this was different from how the binding of Fenrir was supposed to go. The gods were believed to have tricked Fenrir into wearing Gleipnir, the famed dwarven ribbon. It said nothing about Odin wanting to bind Tyr to get the Wolf. Nor does it say anything about Tyr and Fenrir's friendship.

And I had clearly seen Gleipnir back at Vidar's trial, and it was no ribbon; the freaking thing had crushed my ribcage, for crying out loud. What is going on?

"He is the strongest among the ones here gathered when it comes to physical might alone," Odin amended.

This was true. Back then, Thor was stronger because of his strength-enhancing items. Thor was a 'whale,' while Tyr was 'free to play' if this was a Gacha game.

"Why try a lesser method when you could just let me break it like I have all the others?" Fenrir said agitatedly.

Fenrir had moved directly before Tyr by then, and his hackles were raised.

"Pish posh," said Odin, completely undignified, "There is never a need to have a Prized Horse run against a donkey, is it?" Odin continued, waving the thought away.

"Come now, Tyr, your king commands you."

'I'm not liking this one bit.' I thought.

Tyr moved in front of Fenrir, "Don't worry, boy, you know how strong I am; no dwarven ribbon could ever hold me," Tyr said while petting Fenrir's head. "You know I'll be alright; these are my brethren; we can expect no harm from them."

Tyr said while trying to appease the Great Wolf. "And should I fail, you can free me, for who can stand against your will?"

With a barely audible whimper, Fenrir nuzzled against Tyr's chest and face. The Wolf loved the man! Fenrir was, indeed, a good boy.

So, then, why were the gods so bent on binding him? They had already won, Ragnarok averted; just let them be, and all would be well. I need to get to the bottom of this.

Tyr walked up to Odin, presenting his hands to him in a manner we would now say was to get handcuffed.

Odin started weaving the ribbon around Tyr's hands, tying them together, but he did not end it there; he tied Tyr's legs, passing the ribbon all over Tyr's body, binding him in place, impossible to move. He then turned Tyr around so he could face the dreaded Wolf and gagged Tyr with a cloth strap.

"Now, Tyr, this is what you get for colluding with the enemy," Odin said into Tyr's ear, magic surrounding his words so that only Tyr could hear them.

My eyes opened wide. I tried to talk, scream, and let Fenrir know to run and escape. My heart was racing, my chest constricted, I tried to open my arms free, every ounce of strength and concentration on display.

But the ribbon would not concede defeat; as much as I tried, it only tightened even harder, and blood started to wet my clothes.

Fenrir growled, hackles raised, ready to free Tyr. The only thing holding him was that the ribbon was so tightly entangled that he feared hurting his friend.

A shadow passed above Fenrir so fast that I could only see an afterimage: Loki riding Sleipnir, Odin's fabled eight-legged horse.

Loki flew over his son Fenrir, throwing a net over him and binding him in place.

Fenrir howled in anger, "Why, father, why? You never show up, and when you do, it's to bind me."

The net was big and heavy, and magically, it turned into a chain, clasping at Fenrir's legs and neck and holding him down.

The Wolf tried to break the chains, and I could hear the metal straining, starting to give way.

"Stop, child," Loki said and walked next to me, pulling out one of his knives; Loki grabbed my right arm.

"If you ever free yourself from the chains, Tyr dies."

Loki moved his knife with a flourish, severing my right hand. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the other pain Tyr was feeling, both pains I was feeling, too. The pain of betrayal by the gods and Loki, and the pain of seeing his friend brought down because of him.

"I will give you this as a reminder so you never forget what will happen if you break your chains," said Loki, and threw my severed hand in front of the Wolf.

Fenrir whimpered at the sight, hurting for his friend; silent tears wetted his face.

"I will remember," was all Fenrir said while the gods took me away to lock me deep within Asgard's dungeons. Hate was everything now in Fenrir's eyes.

The scene changed once more.

In the familiar setting of Ragnarok, I could now see a crippled man in front of me, a man without a hand. And in front of the man, there was a hound.

A hound big as a tree, covered in blood, fire coming out of its eyes and mouth.

— Garmr, Hel's Hound, Grade-F, Level 30 —

The Hellhound and Tyr's Bane.

But this time, Tyr was not alone; I was here with him. I went to look for Balmung inside my cloak but could not unstrap it—not because the sword was not there, but because I was missing a hand.

My right hand was gone, just like Tyr's.

"You have come to offer aid, I think," said Tyr, his deep grey eyes looking at me, "To whom? Is the question." He then placed his gaze upon Garmr again.

Using my left hand, I unstrapped Balmung and wielded it as best I could.

Standing next to Tyr, I took a knee.

"Was it ever in question that an Einherjar would ever refuse to help his liege?"

I offered Balmung to him, but he refused, a spear appearing on his left hand.

"Stand, Einheri, for we fight Doom tonight."

The Hellhound was fearsome and cunning. It went for one of us while breathing fire at the other, keeping us separated.

Garmr would always attempt to fry me, having been closed on many occasions; if it weren't for Sigurd's cloak and Vidar's boots, I would be a charred corpse by now. The added difficulty of a missing limb added to my predicament.

The hound would then try to snap its jaws at Tyr or to catch him with its paws, but the Aesir would always dodge him, delivering light wounds on the already bloody dog.

As long as I played decoy, the hound was no match for the mighty war god.

The fight went on like that for a time until Tyr decided enough was enough.

Jumping in the air, Tyr threw his spear at the hound, so strong was his throw that the shockwave was heard only after the tip had already lodged itself in the hound's shoulders.

The hound took the chance to breathe fire at Tyr, who could not dodge now.

It was my chance to run at Garmr, thrusting Balmung deep in its neck, twisting it, and slicing it.

The head of the once Hellhound now lay at our feet, its tongue out, an obscene picture of death.

Tyr was in lousy shape, burnt all over, but still looked at me with eyes full of benevolence and appreciation.

"Thank you, young William; it is an honor to meet you." He said.

"The honor is mine," I answered.

"You now know my truth, young Einherjar. I knew your heart was the kind that would accept it. Now go with my legacy; may it serve you well."

And with that, he was gone.

With nothing else to do, I checked my system messages:

*You have killed Garmr, Hel's Hound, Tyr's Bane +3000xp

*Congratulations! You have completed Tyr's Divine Trial

*Bonus XP given for completing Tyr's Trial -3 times XP multiplier

*The following have been awarded

* Received Divine Legacy 'Tyr's Lineage'