@holyblcd liked for a starter [ x ]! (for heidrun!)
His duty as watchman was very important, and Heimdall took it very seriously. While the rest of the Asgardians and Einherjar went about their day doing whatever it was they pleased, Heimdall was sat at his usual spot atop Himinbjörg. It was here he did most of his watching, and here he slept when he needed. Normally, days passed without much event. Maybe there were strange happenings in the villages located just outside the wall or further in the realm, but in Asgard, things remained relatively peaceful if not tense. They were, after all, preparing for a war, and the Allfather could not be everywhere at once, so trusted Heimdall to be the first to call out danger. At least, that's what he assumed was the case.
He heard it in the earth, in the wind, in the sky when she awoke. Jotunheim rattled and roared so loudly that Heimdall had been shaken awake and startled with what he saw when he ran past the cabin doors. He saw her, the strange woman bursting forth in rage, and knew Asgard faced a terrible danger. Yet, when he relayed to Odin what he had seen, the watchman was met with a flippant response of "It's just one woman, there's no need to panic." And while he didn't argue the point any further, her awakening in Jotunheim of all places was a dreadful, nagging feeling deep in his stomach he just couldn't shake. So, gathering a few of Odin's fighters with the promise of a great battle, Heimdall had resolved to see the problem for himself. Through some careful wording and much insistence, Odin reluctantly let the golden-toothed god off with a raven.
Stepping through the haze of feathers, Heimdall is first greeted by the chilling cold. Jotunheim had fallen deathly silent since the genocide of its people, until now. Yet, as he scans the horizon, past the numerous bodies fallen victim to Odin's sickness, he sees nothing. Hears nothing. The Einherjar, eager for something to battle, are a little further ahead of Heimdall, talking amongst themselves. This was wrong. How could something so loud and violent just disappear from view?
He steps toward the edge of the cliff on which he stood and peered into the foggy depths below. Ugh. Giants. Couldn't even die gracefully. His lip curls in annoyance as he turns toward his entourage.
"Don't go too far!" He calls out. "She may still b-" Yet, before he can finish his sentence, the ground beneath his feet gives way, and he plummets into the depths below with a shrill shriek. Heimdall desperately grasps the edge of the cliff in an attempt to catch something but earns nothing but bloodied hands in return. He pulls out his sword and embeds it into the stone - but he is falling far too fast, and it is ripped from his grip; a shining, golden thorn in the desolate gray of the cliff.
The watchman lands with a loud crunch and gasps in pain - or was that the air being forced from his lungs? He struggles on the ground for a moment, wrestling with the pain and fighting for air until he falls still, curled up and gripping his shoulder. His breathing is ragged and he fights back tears. From above, he can hear the concerned calls of his idiotic company, now left to fend for themselves. Not that it mattered. Should they die here, they'd simply be brought back to Valhalla and then to Asgard. Must've been nice. Heimdall, on the other hand, wasn't quite so sure that he'd face the same fate if he succumbed to his injuries - or the woman that ripped free from the earth.
"Fuck!" He hisses, forcing himself onto his rear. "Fuck!" His arm was broken and shoulder dislocated, bent in a freakish, abnormal manner. He groans, leaning forward and shutting his eyes tightly. "Dammit..!"
