Heimdall was his name, and he was endowed with the sharpest ear and eye
that ever warder possessed. He could hear grass and wool grow with the
utmost distinctness. The AEsir, notwithstanding their supreme position,
had need of such a warder, with his Gjallar-horn, mightier than the
Paladin Astolfo's, that could make the universe reecho to its blast.
The truth was, over even the high gods of Asgard hung a Doom which was
mightier than they. It was necessary for them to keep watch and ward,
therefore, for evil things were on their trail. There were vast,
mysterious, outlying regions beyond their sway: Niflheim or Mistland,
Muspellheim or Flameland, and Joetunheim, the abode of the old
earth-powers, matched with whom, even Thor, the strongest of the Asen,
was but a puny stripling. Over this old Scandinavian heaven, as over
all ethnic celestial abodes, the dark Destinies lorded it with
unquestioned sway. From the four corners of the world, at last, were to
fly the snow-flakes of the dread Fimbul, Winter, blotting the sun, and
moaning and drifting night and day. Three times was Winter to come and
go, bringing to men and gods "a storm-age, a wolf-age." Then cometh
Ragnaroek, the Twilight of the Gods! Odin mounts his war-steed.
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