I had a prose version of this, but the computer ate it just as I finished. Grrr.... Still, I hope you enjoy
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Heimdall, White-god, of nine mothers, stood watch at the gates of Asgard. Ever-wakeful, ever-watchful, patient as the Yggdrasil.
In the distance came a blurring, came a people to the Bifrost, Still so distant none could see them, marching 'cross the Bifrost bridge.
None could see them, save for Heimdall, he who saw to the worlds-ending. raised to his lips Gjallerhorn. Took a mighty breath to blow.
Still he paused a moment longer, 'fore he summoned forth the war-gods, 'fore he called the slain Einherjar from their revel-slumbers deep.
Eyelids narrowed, vision seeking. Something strange about those coming. Ears could hear no weapons clanking, ears that heard the growing grass.
These were not the host of Giants, Sons of Muspell, gone a-raving. This was not the final battle, marching 'cross the bridge
This indeed was something stranger, men and women, peaceful walking. Holding hands and thoughtful watching, warriors not a one.
At their vanguard, frog and pig strode, seemed the leaders by their actions. Plucked from lips then was Gjallerhorn. Heimdall let them come.
Pig had look of the Valkyrur, Frog had look of manner mild. Frog did quiver 'neath the god-gaze, still drew breath to speak.
"Hi there, I'm Kermit D. Frog, and we're here to make a petition. We want you to change the rules about who gets in heaven."
"Who are you? then thundered Heimdall, "that you would seek change in heaven? Who this host to tell the Aesir we must change our ways."
Shrank then back the little frog, and bristled then with rage his pig-friend. Shrank he back until the sight of allies once more steeled his nerve.
"The lovers, the dreamers and me, but that's not the point." said Kermit. "Making heaven just for warriors is wrong and doesn't work."
"The world's moved on, and warriors aren't as important as they once were. no one tells the Aesir stories, and the dead mostly go to Hel.
"It isn't fair to everyone who's worked hard to make the world better. Gods should be fair and just and true, and right now you're not."
Bristled Heimdall at the statement, but he saw its honest giving. Raised to his brow mighty fingers. Of *those* headaches would this be.
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Heimdall, White-god, of nine mothers, stood watch at the gates of Asgard. Ever-wakeful, ever-watchful, patient as the Yggdrasil.
In the distance came a blurring, came a people to the Bifrost, Still so distant none could see them, marching 'cross the Bifrost bridge.
None could see them, save for Heimdall, he who saw to the worlds-ending. raised to his lips Gjallerhorn. Took a mighty breath to blow.
Still he paused a moment longer, 'fore he summoned forth the war-gods, 'fore he called the slain Einherjar from their revel-slumbers deep.
Eyelids narrowed, vision seeking. Something strange about those coming. Ears could hear no weapons clanking, ears that heard the growing grass.
These were not the host of Giants, Sons of Muspell, gone a-raving. This was not the final battle, marching 'cross the bridge
This indeed was something stranger, men and women, peaceful walking. Holding hands and thoughtful watching, warriors not a one.
At their vanguard, frog and pig strode, seemed the leaders by their actions. Plucked from lips then was Gjallerhorn. Heimdall let them come.
Pig had look of the Valkyrur, Frog had look of manner mild. Frog did quiver 'neath the god-gaze, still drew breath to speak.
"Hi there, I'm Kermit D. Frog, and we're here to make a petition. We want you to change the rules about who gets in heaven."
"Who are you? then thundered Heimdall, "that you would seek change in heaven? Who this host to tell the Aesir we must change our ways."
Shrank then back the little frog, and bristled then with rage his pig-friend. Shrank he back until the sight of allies once more steeled his nerve.
"The lovers, the dreamers and me, but that's not the point." said Kermit. "Making heaven just for warriors is wrong and doesn't work."
"The world's moved on, and warriors aren't as important as they once were. no one tells the Aesir stories, and the dead mostly go to Hel.
"It isn't fair to everyone who's worked hard to make the world better. Gods should be fair and just and true, and right now you're not."
Bristled Heimdall at the statement, but he saw its honest giving. Raised to his brow mighty fingers. Of *those* headaches would this be.