As I approached the golden gates of Asgard, I felt some of the sea spray below the Bifrost Bridge spatter me, and heard the cry of unfamiliar but wondrous sea-birds flying and fishing along the coastline nearby. Some looked like gulls – and others looked similar to cranes and kingfishers. You could look over the edge of the bridge, and see schools of fish in the ocean, through waters that were almost crystal clear. Everything about this place was amazing.

A group of maybe eight guards were waiting for me at the end of the bridge – they had obviously seen me coming, and were alert, but not expecting battle. There were seven Einherjar and one Valkyrie. Oddly enough, I was surprised to see that some of the Einherjar were Asian, some were Middle eastern, some Caucasian, and one or two were mixed so that their ethnicity was indeterminate. The Valkyrie was African-American – or maybe just African.

*Were you expecting all white people, Jason?*

To be honest, Siri, I think part of me was, and I feel like a total shit for it. I take it bravery and valor in battle is all that matters when choosing a host? That and compatibility with the chosen’s symbiote?

*Yes, Jason. Skin color or ‘race’ is a poor way to separate a people. It’s so transitory – and can be changed or disguised so easily. It’s something I hope your people grow out of in time, frankly. The things some humans attribute to the Aesir are frankly repulsive and disgusting. I’m not fond of your white supremacists, frankly, nor of their co-opting our old traditions.*

Yeah, I don’t know many people who are fond of those freaks either, I thought. And the ones that are fond of them, I wouldn’t associate with.

*I know. I’m glad to hear that, Jason... Now look sharp!*

One of the Einherjar stepped forward, and spoke. “State your name and business here before Asgard, woman!”

“Umm... I am Battle-Leader Sigrid and her new host, returning from a mission to Midgard. I have dire news of a new Krell weapon. Sigrid says I need to be debriefed immediately.”

The Einherjar went from stern faced, to sad and welcoming. “Our sorrows for your loss, Battle Leader, and welcome to Asgard, youngling. I am Wulgar Battle-born. Well Met.” He offered me his forarm, so I clasped it in greeting, and he stepped aside. Wulfgar had a middle-eastern host, and had dusky skin with black hair, and was extremely muscular and built – like all the Einherjar... he was distractingly archetypically male in build – and it was safe to say Einherjar were as striking in their own way as Valkyries were in theirs. I had no idea how I felt about that, other than to completely ignore it for the time being.

“Welcome back, Sigrid. Your team – what was left of it – arrived a few days ago. They were disorganized and confused. Your commander, Brunhilde has not reported back. I’ll have Wulfgar escort you to the Citadel – I know you know the way, but it might be calming for your new host. By the way, I am called Hrund.”

“Thank you.” I replied, listening to Siri’s mental whispers. “Siri says an escort will be welcome. I am... still figuring out what I am to be called.”

“Aye. It can be difficult for younglings – new hosts – to know who they are. You will tell us your name in time. Until then, please – go with Wulfgar.” Hrund replied.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wulfgar laughed, and motioned for me to follow him. “How new to the bond are you, Youngling?”

“Less than five days.” I replied.

“You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” Wulfgar laughed. “I remember when I was a youngling... I didn’t know if I should respond to my mortal name, my symbiote’s name, or a new name. It seemed so strange to me, being two people in one body. Gods, those were awkward days. All I’m trying to say is that all of us have been there, often many times. You’ll find many folks willing to help you adjust.”

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It was about then I realized we weren’t speaking English...

*It’s called Ancient Norse by your people, Jason.*

How can I understand Ancient Norse? I asked.

*The Aesir can understand any spoken or written language they have encountered – which includes a huge number of languages from Earth, Vanaheim, Nifleheim, and many other Realms. We quickly adjust to new cultures and species modes of communication as well, so we can almost always be understood.*

Cool!

Wulfgar tapped me on my shoulder. “Excuse me? We should make haste. I take it you were talking with Sigrid?”

“Aye.” I replied. “Did it show?”

“Aye. Younglings get this vacant look when they speak to their Symbiote. It takes time to learn how to disguise that look.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Wulfgar. I’ll look into that.”

“No problems.” Wulfgar led me past the gate and into the city – and I beheld my first experience with Asgard and its people – the common citizens, not the soldiers.

We walked past shops and stores, and homes – and the first thing I realized is that everyone was walking, save for some floating boats that looked like small longships that carried passengers. Bizarre, but also very cool. I wanted to stop and take pictures – but I knew now wasn’t the time... Still the city was beautiful. Not a single house or shop was a plain box adorned with a sign – they all looked like ancient norse homes and mead halls, adorned with carvings and statues, art and decorations. Flower beds with hundreds of different blooms were everywhere, and gave the city a feeling of gaiety and peace that seemed out of touch with the fact they apparently were at war. The city looked idyllic, with a mix of ancient architecture, alien clothes and customs, and a great many people – most of which appeared to be human.

The clothing they wore was identifiable – I mean, trousers are trousers and dresses are dresses, wherever you are – but the fabrics and shapes and styles were all alien and beautiful. I felt like I was gawking like a rube from the sticks as I walked through the city towards the citadel – a massive fortress and castle at the center of the city. The citadel dominated the skyline – it was the single most massive, most glorious building in Asgard – no doubt it was the home of the gods, and the palace of Odin the Allfather as well. I felt tears coming to my eyes, just from the sheer majesty of the city and its palace, and I felt a euphoria fall over me. This was heaven. I was about to enter the Halls of my Ancestors. I might even glimpse one of the gods themselves.

I couldn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling, except that I felt blessed beyond any other. How did I deserve to be here, before the gods? How was it possible I was in Heaven? I didn’t have the words, so I just felt, and walked along Wulfgar in silence.

*It is amazing, isn’t it?* Siri asked.

Yes, I thought. It’s the most wondrous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. How do you bear to leave?

*In times of peace, we do not, except when our duty calls us to harvest the souls of the valiant dead. Since the war, many of us have been away from home for many years.*

What do you do when you’re not at war, or harvesting souls? I asked.

*Some of us join our brothers, the Einherjar in mead halls and celebrate – although your legends have us serving the Einherjar mead instead of celebrating with them. Some of us take up jobs and crafts to pass the time, and others still walk amongst the mortals to explore the universe and revisit places familiar to old hosts. I spent a century exploring Egypt a long time ago – and I expect its changed in many ways. Do they still worship their gods? The Pesedjet?*

No. I think they follow a god called Allah now – the father of Christ in Christianity.

*I haven’t been to Earth since I met my previous host, Sheryl. She grew up in Whitechapel, in London during what your people called the Victorian Age. England was the most powerful country on Earth. She was mortally wounded by a murderer – and she fought bravely until the end, so when she was rescued by one of my sisters, I chose her as a host. The rest is history, I guess. She was valiant and brave – a lot like you in that respect, Jason.*

I guess you were very close? I’m sorry for your loss.

*As close as two people can be. Thank you, Jason. I think you would have liked Sheryl. Heads up! We’re almost at the citadel.*

I shook myself free of my reverie as we approached the gates of the massive palace and fortress that comprised the Citadel. Somehow, I had put myself into a kind of trance, walking through Asgards’ streets – I didn’t remember anything except my awe and my chat with Siri from the point where Wulfgar scolded me, onward.

Wulgar approached the guards, and raised his fist in a salute, which they returned. I did the same, haltingly. “I bring Sigrid and her new host to be debriefed. She has urgent information about the Krell.”

“Well met, Wulfgar. Welcome, Sigrid, and you too, youngling. I take it you have not chosen a name as yet?”

“I’m between names, yes.”

“Then we shall call you by your Valkyrie name until you give us another name, Youngling. It’s just easier that way.” The guard replied.

“Very well.” I replied. “I am ready to do what I must.”

The guards nodded, and one of them smiled. “We will take it from here, Wulfgar.”

“Farewell, Youngling.” Wulfgar replied. “Perhaps I will see you in the mead halls, another day?”

“If I do, the least I could do is share a drink, right? Well met, Wulfgar – and thank you.” I replied.

Wulfgar nodded, winked at me, and left us – most likely to return to the gate. Why the fuck did he wink at me?

Why did that bother me? Was he flirting? Oh fuck, no!

*He might have been, Jason.*

Fucking wonderful. Is this going to be a common occurrence, Siri?

*Considering how you look, what do you think?*

I think I’m definitely not ready to consider anything resembling ramifications of that topic now and for the foreseeable future.

*Fair enough, Jason. There’s no rush.*

The guards at the door guided me into the Citadel, and shortly I was taken to a room to be debriefed.