Níðhǫggr

Once upon a time, I tossed a globe comprised of misplaced wrath toward the heavens. During its ascent, the globe lengthened into a hungry beam and, subsequently, pierced the loins of that which presided above. For my witless transgression I was pierced by a poisoned rock and nailed to the gnarled trunk of a tree unfathomable in its proportions. Upon this hallowed Tree of Mystery my pale, living corpse was besieged by the denizens of pestilence for forty days and forty nights all told. True story.

That I once gnawed upon the roots of said tree for nourishment is also true, but this took place well before the advent of pizza, wine, chili fries, 만두, lagers, club sandwiches, bagels, and bite-sized chocolates, so I can only hope you wouldn't fault me terribly for having derived sustenance from such worldly flora as it seemed like a grand idea at the time.

Truest of all, perhaps, is that I sporadically exhibit an irksome tendency to celebrate the forest at the expense of the trees.