Baldur's Infinity War

The Chronicles of Asgard: Heimdall

The rays of the sun beats upon the forest floor. The misty haze shimmered as light reflected from the tiny droplets of dew collected on the leaves. Birds chirped and sang, hopping from branch to branch, warming their bones for the first flight of the day.

The picture the forest painted was calm and serene, total opposite of what they had gone through.

An hours sleep was all he could give them, Hela's undead soldiers were near. He tracked their movements as the refugees slept in huddles, desperate for warmth from the cold misty morning.

It had only been fourteen minutes into their sleep—painfully short—but as every second ticks the draugrs ran at full sprint, drawing ever closer to their position

He stood, ready to rouse the people of Asgard from their minute slumber.

"We have to move! Hela would be upon us soon!" yelled Heimdall. "Gather your belongings, we leave posthaste."

Heads perked as his command reverberated through the forest. Glazed eyes tinged red gazed at him. Yawns sounded, accompanied by the chirps and whistles of birds.

"Can't even get a damn nap," an Asgardian noble grumbled. He was big and fat, thin gray hair peppered his scalp—the former splendor it might have had were lost to balding. Pug nose and rotund face lined with age twisted to a perpetual scowl.

He was unpleasant to look at, his features resembled more of a bulldog than a man, Heimdall mused. Watching the man kicked the others awake.

They were all tired. Only having less than an hours sleep and rest everyday. Having been on the run for three weeks now, not stopping even through the night, they face a cruel, restless enemy. Not knowing sleep nor fatigue.

Even with their Asgardian physiology, the hectic journey and the lack of food and sleep would have brought even the mightiest of warriors to their knees. Seeing no one collapse from exhaustion was a miracle—it was as if the Allfather had blessed them.

Heimdall rubbed his eyes, desperately fighting the urge to sleep. Even as the watcher he was allowed to eat, sleep and rest like any normal Asgardian. He rarely took them at first, feeling that his duty were more important than mundane luxuries.

He only stopped when Odin personally came to him and said, "We don't want our watcher and protector to drop down dead when he is needed the most. Rest boy, know that we are not Gods. Like any mortal eating and sleeping greatly benefits us."

He wouldn't admit it but the Allfather had become somewhat of a second father to him.

He remembered when he first met Odin.

Heimdall was the envy of their town when they knew the Allfather personally came to the small mountain village to see the child with eyes that can gaze upon all the nine realms.

The old men said he was prophesied by a woodswitch "Born under a red–moon a child with eyes of fire peer upon the branches of the Yggdrasil, the ravens may whisper stories but the seer watches all." they said.

He was playing with his brother as his mother spun them wool. He never played much with other children, his skin color only brought scorn and contempt. A boy once said Heimdall was cursed, a demon. That his skin was a result of breeding with the giants of Muspelheim, that his fiery eyes would be the end of his family as he would burn them in their sleep. He ran back home with tears in his eyes and hid under a tree by the creek. When his brother found him—red faced and all—he sworn to beat him for running from the boy. And beat him he did. He came home soft, bruised and battered, but his heart had grown like iron. He fought back like any man, breaking the nose of his older sibling, throwing punches with fervor he unleashed his fury. A temper he kept hidden from all.