Norðri
When the gods shaped the world from the body of the slain giant Ymir, they needed pillars to hold up the sky—a vast, celestial dome crafted from his skull. To this end, they summoned four dwarves from the depths, each named for a cardinal direction. Norðri, whose name means “North,” was placed at the northern edge of the world to uphold the heavens and anchor the sky in place. He is more than a bearer of weight; he is the silent force of cold and clarity, the guardian of the winds that rush down from the ice-wreathed peaks of the world. His duty is eternal, silent, and profoundly elemental. While the gods scheme and the world churns with fate, Norðri holds his corner of the sky aloft—unmoving, unwavering.
Though not involved in the dramas of the gods or the intrigues of dwarven forges, Norðri’s role is foundational. He is a being of purpose and order, woven into the very framework of the cosmos. The north he anchors is not simply a direction—it is the edge of known space, the reach of the eternal winter, the whisper of the void. It is said that if Norðri ever falters, the sky itself would collapse, and the world with it. But he does not falter. Like the stars that burn cold and bright above him, he endures. His stillness is his strength, and in his silence there is great power.
Visual Description:
Norðri is often imagined as tall for a dwarf, with broad shoulders hunched slightly from centuries—if not eons—of bearing the heavens. His skin is pale as glacier-ice, and his beard, thick and white, is crusted with frost and ice crystals that never melt. His eyes are a piercing, wintry blue, unblinking and reflective like the northern sky under stars. He wears a heavy cloak made from the pelts of polar beasts and lined with silver-threaded runes that glow faintly in moonlight. His hands are clad in fur-lined gauntlets, thick and battered from centuries of holding the edges of the sky.
In art, Norðri is shown braced against the north wind, feet planted firmly on a jagged outcrop of ice and stone. The arc of the sky curves above him, a great dome held aloft by invisible force. Snow swirls endlessly around his figure, but he remains unmoved, eyes fixed on the horizon, forever vigilant in his sacred task. His is the face of winter’s stillness, the weight of the world borne with silent devotion.