The Battle of Evermore

"Oh war is the common cry, pick up your swords and fly.
The sky is filled with good and bad that mortals never know.
Oh, well, the night is long the beads of time pass slow,
Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow."
Led Zeppelin, The Battle of Evermore

Children, the word of the day is Ragnarok. The final doom of the Gods.
I've been reading a lot about it. Not intentionally. Incidentally. Co-incidentally, while I've been studying texts trying to learn Old Norse. I guess it's kind of a big deal. Ragnarok, not Old Norse.
Lots of people are named in the prophecies. Fated specifically to die. Heimdall is one, so... that kinda sucks.
I guess it's kind of a mindfuck for the people who aren't named, more than those who are. I mean, at least the people fated to die in Ragnarok can pretty much run into any fight they feel like, knowing that it won't be their last. Well, until it is. But the Fimbulvetr is supposed to be a big hint.
Obviously the prophecies just talk about the Norse. The Aesir, and the Vanir, and some of the giants and other names that I can remember more easily when I've slept.
Makes me wonder where I'd fit in.

You know what? No, it doesn't.
I don't wonder long at all. I know where I'll be: Right where I belong, right in the middle of the biggest, baddest battle in the history of all creation. The fight that is supposed to be both a beginning and an end. Right next to Gunnar, making sure he's got backup the next time he tells some giant serpent to eat him.
I can imagine my dad having a shit fit if I told him I intend to fight in Ragnarok. I don't intend to tell him. Though, if he hasn't already figured that one out, he might want to reconsider his career choice as a god of prophecy. I mean, he's my dad and a most righteous dude and I love him dearly, but I'm just sayin'.

Anyway. Next time I see Heimdall, there's something I want to tell him.
All of the Aesir are just supposed to know when Heimdall sounds the Gjallrhorn, calling the warriors to the fight. Will I hear it? I'm not Aesir, but what I am has got to count for something.
I'm marrying one of them. Eventually I'll probably carry his children, children of both the Aesir and the Dodekatheon. Well, until we become gods ourselves and figure out how to work this new pantheon stuff.
More than any of that, I'm a warrior, willing to fight and die in the battle to literally end all battles. The odds say I probably will die.

I say fuck the odds, and fuck anyone who thinks the whole of Ragnarok will be enough to stop me.

I've made up my mind. When the jaws of the Fenris wolf have been ripped apart, and the last of Surtr's fires have burnt themselves to cinders, we'll still be standing. I will see to that. We will be there when the end becomes the beginning again. And when the dust settles and the the sun rises again, we will clear away the rubble and rebuild the world.