Vidar (Old Norse Víðarr) and Vali (Váli) are two sons of Odin whose one great task is revenge: Vidar kills the Fenris wolf that swallowed his father at Ragnarök, and Vali slays Baldr's killer Höðr when he is just one night old. Both are among the very few gods who survive the end of the world. Here is what the Eddic poems actually say about them, what Snorri added, how differently Saxo tells the tale, and why a stone cross in England may hold the only surviving image of Vidar.
Some gods turn up in every story. Thor brawls his way across half of Jötunheim, Loki makes trouble, Odin wanders the worlds in disguise. And then there are two brothers who almost never appear. They sit at the edge of things, silent, waiting. Their hour comes exactly once – and in that hour it is decided whether a debt of blood will be paid. Vidar and Vali are the avengers of the Norse gods. Not heroes of the middle of the story, but heroes of its end.
To understand them you have to step into a world where vengeance was not a dark passion but a family obligation. An unatoned killing damaged the honour of an entire kin group, and the Icelandic sagas are full of feuds that ran for generations. Among the gods of the Edda, two of Odin's sons take on this duty – and both, it seems, were fathered for that purpose alone.
Vidar is a son of Odin. His mother is named by Snorri Sturluson in Skáldskaparmál, the "language of poetry" section of his Prose Edda (c. 1220): she is the giantess Gríðr. She appears in the tale of Thor's journey to Geirröd, where Snorri explicitly calls her the mother of "Vidar the Silent". Gríðr lends Thor a belt of strength, iron gloves and her staff, Gríðarvölr – without them the thunder god would hardly have survived the trip. Like many of the Æsir, then, Vidar is half giant. The line between gods and giants in Norse myth was never as tidy as we might like.
In Gylfaginning (chapter 29 in the usual numbering) Snorri introduces him briefly. Brodeur's public-domain translation of 1916 renders it: "One is called Vídarr, the silent god. He has a thick shoe, and he is nearly as strong as Thor; in him the gods have great trust in all struggles." That is all. No adventure, no love affair, no clever exchange of words. Silence is his defining trait – and medieval Icelanders clearly knew it, because in Skáldskaparmál Snorri lists the poetic circumlocutions (kennings) for Vidar: the silent god, possessor of the iron shoe, foe and slayer of the Fenris wolf, avenger of the gods, dweller in the homesteads of the fathers, son of Odin, brother of the Æsir.
And the name? Víðarr is usually explained as "wide ruler", from Old Norse víðr, "wide". That is not certain; some scholars prefer a link with viðr, "wood, forest", which would fit his overgrown land.
In Grímnismál, one of the mythological poems of the Poetic Edda, a disguised Odin lists the dwellings of the gods. Most are splendid halls: roofed with silver, shining with gold, rafters made of spear shafts. Vidar's is different. Stanza 17 in Bellows' public-domain translation reads:
With branches grown and high grass / Is Vithar's land of Vithi; / But there the son did leap from his steed / To avenge his father's death.Grímnismál 17, trans. H. A. Bellows 1923
The land is called Viði, often given in modern reference works as Landviði. No hall, no splendour, just wild growth. And already here, in the middle of a list of peaceful divine homes, comes the line about revenge. Vidar's home is a kind of waiting room for the final battle.
The Hávamál, the sayings of the High One, offer a lovely parallel. Stanza 119 warns that a path no one walks soon grows over with brushwood and tall grass – an image of friendship left untended. Whether the Grímnismál poet had this in mind we cannot know. But the images fit together remarkably well: Vidar lets everything around him go wild, because only one thing counts. His land is not a place to live in; it is a place where someone gathers himself.
Vidar's most famous attribute is his shoe. In Gylfaginning 29 Snorri calls it thick; among the kennings it even becomes an "iron shoe". The full explanation comes with his account of Ragnarök in chapter 51. Brodeur translates: "Straightway thereafter Vídarr shall stride forth and set one foot upon the lower jaw of the wolf: on that foot he has the shoe, materials for which have been gathering throughout all time." Those materials, Snorri explains, are the scraps of leather people cut from their shoes at toe and heel – so anyone who wants to help the Æsir should throw those scraps away. With one hand Vidar then grips the wolf's upper jaw and tears its gullet apart.
This is one of the rare places where Snorri explicitly ties a human custom to the myth. Whether such a custom really existed, or whether Snorri invented the explanation out of the story itself, we cannot decide. Either way, the idea is charming: every cobbler and every household that throws away offcuts is quietly helping to save the world. If you want the craft behind it, we have a separate article on Viking leatherwork – turnshoes of goat and cattle leather were everyday wear, and offcuts were plentiful.
The heart of the Vidar myth is older than Snorri. Völuspá, the Prophecy of the Seeress, describes the end of the world step by step. Odin goes out against the Fenris wolf and falls. Then, in stanza 54 or 55 depending on the edition, his son arrives. In close paraphrase of the Old Norse: then comes the great son of the Victory-Father, Vidar, to fight the beast of the slain; he drives his sword with his hand into the heart of Hveðrungr's son – and so the father is avenged.
Hveðrungr is a byname of Loki, so his son is Fenrir. Note the detail: in the Völuspá, Vidar kills the wolf with a sword through the heart. There is no mention of jaws at all.
Another Eddic poem tells it differently. In Vafþrúðnismál Odin questions the wise giant Vafþrúðnir about the end of the world. Stanza 53 runs:
The wolf shall fell the father of men, / And this shall Vithar avenge; / The terrible jaws shall he tear apart, / And so the wolf shall he slay.Vafþrúðnismál 53, trans. H. A. Bellows 1923
Here we have the tearing of the "cold jaws", as the Old Norse puts it. Snorri knew both versions and fused them into a single image – adding the shoe as an explanation. If you are going to stamp on the lower jaw of a giant wolf, you need something solid on your foot.
A detail from Grímnismál fits in: Vidar leaps "from his steed" to avenge his father. He rides into battle; he is no foot soldier emerging from the brush. And in every version he arrives too late to save Odin. He arrives only in time to avenge him. That is the whole tragedy of the figure.
Does Vidar exist outside the books? Possibly – in an English churchyard. In the churchyard of St Mary's in Gosforth, Cumbria, stands a slender cross of red sandstone, 4.42 metres tall. Historic England dates it to the early 10th century and classes it as Anglo-Scandinavian: the area had been heavily settled by Norse incomers, many of whom had come by way of Ireland and the Isle of Man.
One face of the shaft shows a human figure holding a staff or spear. He stands before a monstrous head with gaping jaws; one foot rests on the lower jaw, one hand holds the upper. Since the 19th century the scene has been read as Vidar tearing open Fenrir's jaws – and it matches Snorri's description, written some 300 years later, with uncanny precision. The same cross is usually read as showing the bound Loki with Sigyn and her bowl, the watchman Heimdall with his horn, and a rider. Another face shows the Crucifixion.
That is exactly what makes the cross so fascinating to scholars. A Christian monument displays pagan scenes of the end of days. Was the sculptor saying: just as Vidar defeats the wolf, Christ defeats the devil? The art historian Meyer Schapiro leaned towards reading the scene as a Christ metaphor; others see a deliberate juxtaposition of the old apocalypse and the new. All we can say for sure is that someone in 10th-century England knew a story about a man ripping apart a monster's jaws. For more on this and on the related Thorwald's Cross from the Isle of Man, which shows Odin in the wolf's maw, see our article on Gosforth and Thorwald's Cross.
Just once do we see Vidar among the other gods, and the scene is a sharp one. In Lokasenna, the great flyting of the gods, the Æsir are feasting in the hall of the sea giant Ægir. Loki has killed a servant, been driven out, and comes back. He demands a seat and a drink. Bragi tries to turn him away, but Loki reminds Odin of the blood-brotherhood they swore long ago. Odin gives in. In stanza 10 he says:
Stand forth then, Vithar, and let the wolf's father / Find a seat at our feast; / Lest evil should Loki speak aloud / Here within Ægir's hall.Lokasenna 10, trans. H. A. Bellows 1923
The prose then reports: "Then Vithar arose and poured drink for Loki." Picture it. Of all the gods, the one who will kill Loki's son at the end of the world must stand up, make room for the "wolf's father" – Odin's own words – and fill his cup. Whether the poet meant the irony we can only guess, but it is hard to miss. Vidar says nothing. He remains the silent god.
The sources never explain his silence. Scholars have nonetheless found a plausible lead: the vow of vengeance. In many cultures a man bound to blood revenge renounced certain things until the deed was done. The Roman historian Tacitus, writing around AD 98 in his Germania (ch. 31), reports that young men of the Chatti let their hair and beards grow and only cut them once they had killed an enemy. The historian of religion John Lindow has set Vidar's silence in this context – and compared it with the second avenger, to whom we turn now.
Vali, Old Norse Váli, is also a son of Odin. His mother is Rindr, who is not one of the Æsir; she is usually understood as a giantess or a king's daughter from a foreign land. In Gylfaginning 30 Snorri calls him "Áli or Váli": in Brodeur's words, "daring in fights, and a very good shot". That is all he says there.
Vali's whole reason for existing is the death of Baldr. Baldr, the radiant son of Odin and Frigg, is killed by a sprig of mistletoe thrown by his blind brother Höðr at Loki's prompting. The gods cannot punish the killer at once; Snorri explains that the place was a sanctuary of peace. The blood debt stays open. And because Höðr is a brother, no brother can take vengeance without committing fratricide himself. A new son is needed – one born for this alone.
Remarkably, a skald was already alluding to the story in the 10th century. In his Sigurðardrápa, Kormákr Ögmundarson has the line seið Yggr til Rindar – "Yggr (Odin) worked seiðr-magic on Rindr". The stanza says nothing more. But it shows that the idea of Odin winning Rindr only through sorcery was known long before Snorri.
The most vivid image of Vali comes from Baldrs draumar, "Baldr's Dreams". Odin rides to Hel and wakes a dead seeress to learn what awaits his son. She answers grudgingly, stanza by stanza. In stanza 11 she names the avenger:
Rind bears Vali in Vestrsalir, / And one night old fights Othin's son; / His hands he shall wash not, his hair he shall comb not, / Till the slayer of Baldr he brings to the flames.Baldrs draumar 11, trans. H. A. Bellows 1923
Almost the same lines appear in Völuspá 32–33 (Bellows' numbering): from the slender branch comes a deadly shaft that Höðr hurls; but Baldr's brother is born soon after and fights when one night old; he washes not his hands nor combs his hair until he bears Baldr's foe to the pyre. And in Fensalir Frigg weeps. Worth noting: in the Codex Regius Völuspá, Vali is never named – he is simply "Baldr's brother". The identification comes from Baldrs draumar.
The unwashed, uncombed child is exactly the vow of vengeance we can only guess at for Vidar. Here it is spelled out. And the age is deliberate, of course: a warrior who kills when one night old is not a person but retribution embodied. Snorri offers a companion piece in Thor's son Magni, who at three nights old lifts the dead giant Hrungnir's leg off his father when no god could move it. Divine children in the North are above all one thing: uncannily strong, uncannily early.
Snorri himself never narrates Vali's revenge. He knows it – his kennings for Vali include "avenger of Baldr" and "foe and slayer of Höðr", as well as "stepson of Frigg" – but the scene itself is missing from Gylfaginning. We know it only from the Eddic poems and from Saxo.
A very different and much longer version appears in Book 3 of the Gesta Danorum by the Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus (c. 1200). Saxo writes in Latin and treats the gods as humans who passed themselves off as gods – an approach called euhemerism. In his account Balderus is a demigod, Hotherus a human hero, and the two compete for the princess Nanna.
After Balderus dies, Othinus – Saxo's name for Odin – consults soothsayers. A Finn called Rostiophus tells him that by Rinda, daughter of the king of the Ruthenians, he will father a son who will avenge Balderus. What follows is one of the ugliest stories ever told about Odin. He courts Rinda first as a victorious warrior, then with costly jewellery, then as a dashing young man – and is rejected each time, once with a slap. He then touches her with a piece of bark carved with spells, and she is driven mad. Finally he comes to the court dressed as a woman, a healer named Wecha. Under the pretext of treatment he has Rinda tied to her bed and rapes her.
In Saxo the son is called Bous. He later goes to war against Hotherus, kills him in battle, is badly wounded himself and dies the following day. There is no one-night-old child in Saxo; he has recast the story in the shape of a heroic career. The other gods, Saxo goes on, considered Othinus' conduct a disgrace and sent him into exile for a time.
How much of this is old tradition and how much Saxo's own elaboration cannot be determined precisely. The skaldic line seið Yggr til Rindar at least supports the core: Odin won Rindr by sorcery, not by love. The name Bous is not related to Váli; the two are identified by their role, not their name.
Anyone reading about Vali will sooner or later run into a second Vali – a son of Loki. In Gylfaginning Snorri describes Loki's punishment: "Then were taken Loki's sons, Váli and Nari or Narfi." The gods turn Váli into a wolf, he tears his brother apart, and Loki is bound to three rocks with the entrails.
The prose at the end of Lokasenna tells the same story with different names: in the Old Norse text Loki is bound with the guts of his son Nari, and his son Narfi becomes a wolf. No Váli appears there – although some older English translations, Bellows' among them, put "Vali" into that sentence.
So a Váli son of Loki is attested only in Snorri, and scholars have long suspected a confusion or reinterpretation. One possible key lies in the Hauksbók version of Völuspá. Stanza 34 there reads Þá kná Vála vígbönd snúa, roughly "then Váli's slaughter-bonds were twisted". The line is difficult and is often emended to "Váli". If it is read as saying that Odin's son Vali took part in binding Loki, that fits well with his role as Baldr's avenger – Loki was, after all, the true instigator. Snorri or his source may have turned this into a son of Loki whose entrails make the fetters. That is a hypothesis, not established fact. What is certain: when you read "Vali", it is worth checking which one is meant.
Now comes the moment where the two brothers meet. In Vafþrúðnismál Odin asks who will rule the gods' inheritance after the great fire. The giant answers in stanza 51:
In the gods' home Vithar and Vali shall dwell, / When the fire of Surt is sunk; / Mothi and Magni shall Mjollnir have / When Vingnir falls in fight.Vafþrúðnismál 51, trans. H. A. Bellows 1923
Vidar and Vali will inhabit the sanctuaries of the gods once Surt's fire has died. With them live Thor's sons Móði and Magni, who inherit Mjölnir. Snorri takes this up in Gylfaginning 53 and adds that neither the sea nor Surt's fire could harm Vidar and Vali, and that they will dwell on Iðavöllr, where Asgard once stood. Baldr and Höðr come back from the underworld as well – victim and killer, now reconciled.
The result is a quiet but powerful picture. The two avengers have done their duty and are allowed to remain. The sons of those who died inherit the new world. And because Vali took his revenge on Höðr long ago, he now sits beside the brother he once killed. The cycle of blood vengeance is broken. Whether we call that a Christian influence or an old hope of renewal remains an open question among scholars.
Among humans, two also survive: Líf and Lífþrasir, who hid in the wood of Hoddmímir. Gods and humans alike begin again from a small remnant.
Honestly: we do not know. There is no inscription, no votive offering and no report of a sacrifice to Vidar or Vali. Individual place names have occasionally been linked to Vidar, but none securely. Some scholars therefore see both as poetic figures that stand for a function – retribution – rather than as gods who were actually worshipped.
Still, several things argue against a purely late invention. Vidar's revenge appears in two independent Eddic poems with different methods of killing, Rindr is mentioned by a 10th-century skald, and the Gosforth Cross shows a fitting scene long before Snorri. That is enough to say the two avengers belonged to the old body of myth. How far they were venerated remains open.
In our workshop in Alsdorf the two avengers come up less often than Thor or Odin – unfairly, we think. Vidar in particular is a motif with presence: not the din of battle, but someone who waits and is there at the decisive moment. A design after the Gosforth Cross – the figure with a spear, one foot on the wolf's lower jaw – looks especially strong on dark slate, because the laser lines stand out bright against the stone and the interlace of the original comes through well.
For a text, the line from Grímnismál 17 works beautifully, or simply "and so the father is avenged" from Völuspá, in runes or Latin letters. Vali suits a calmer motif: a child's hand and a bow, a nod to the sharp-eyed archer Snorri describes. If you want both brothers together, the Vafþrúðnismál stanza links them – two who outlast the end. A fine gift for siblings, or for someone who has come through a hard time.
Who is Vidar in Norse mythology? Vidar is a son of Odin and the giantess Gríðr, known as "the silent god". At Ragnarök he avenges his father by killing the Fenris wolf, and he survives the end of the world.
How does Vidar kill Fenrir? In Völuspá he drives a sword into the wolf's heart; in Vafþrúðnismál he tears its jaws apart. Snorri combines the two: Vidar steps on the lower jaw wearing his thick shoe of leather scraps and wrenches the upper jaw upwards.
Who is Vali, son of Odin? Vali is the son of Odin and Rindr. He is born to avenge Baldr and kills Baldr's slayer Höðr when only one night old.
Is Vali also a son of Loki? In Gylfaginning Snorri names a Váli as Loki's son who is turned into a wolf. Lokasenna names Nari and Narfi at that point, and scholars usually regard Loki's son Váli as a mix-up.
Which gods survive Ragnarök? According to Vafþrúðnismál and Snorri, Vidar and Vali survive, along with Thor's sons Móði and Magni; Baldr and Höðr return from Hel. Among humans, Líf and Lífþrasir survive.
Does the Gosforth Cross really show Vidar? Very probably: a figure sets his foot on a monster's lower jaw and holds the upper jaw. No name is carved beside him, so it remains a well-founded interpretation rather than proof.
For courage. For remembrance. For legends that live on.
What comes after Ragnarök · Magni & Modi – Thor's sons · Hringhorni – Baldr's funeral ship · Hel – goddess and realm of the dead · How the Germanic peoples honoured their dead.
Beyond Snorri's Edda, little is recorded about Víðarr – much of what is told today comes from later interpretation. Three strands are known:
Because of the similarity between Víðarr and the Christian martyr Vitus (d. c. 304), modern Germanic neo-paganism dedicated the Veitstag on 15 June to him, near the summer solstice. There is no Viking-age evidence for this – it is a modern association.
Snorri explains Víðarr's strong shoe as made from the leather scraps people cut away when shaping their shoes – whoever wishes the gods well should throw such scraps away. It echoes the ship Naglfar, which grows from the nails of the dead: in both, something fateful is made from what was carelessly discarded.
In some retellings the silent Víðarr refills the gods' drinking horns in Valhalla – even Loki's, whom he despises. This scene is narrative embellishment, not part of the core sources.
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