His joints ached at the disruption as he settled himself on the stump, but the Allfather remained uncaring of the pain and listened for Heimdallr's first action. Would he rest his tired eyes, or taste of the good mead he had been promised? Odin could only chuckle as he heard the faint sounds of a barrel being struck open, followed by a drinking horn being filled. Satisfied that his guard had relaxed enough, Odin turned his attention to the other eight worlds that the gods watched over. While not blessed with the extreme sight that Heimdallr possessed, indeed, Odin only possessed one eye, he nevertheless was able to see much of the universe and what occurred on the worlds below Asgard, down to the very roots of the sacred world tree, Yggdrasil.
As always, he only cast a momentary glance on the world of Hel, where the dishonest, the dishonourable and the cowardly reside after their deaths. Odin cared little for those condemned to such a fate, where they must drink goat urine rather than fine mead and huddle in the cold and the dark rather than around a blazing fire like at Valhalla. Above that world lay another, shrouded in a darkness greater than Hel for it was Svartálfaheimr, the land of the dark elves. Odin paid little heed for such a corrupt land, and moved his gaze onwards to the more friendly world of Nidavellir, land of the dwarves, with whom the gods have enjoyed centuries of friendship, battles and feasts. Now the Gods were stirring, perhaps those golden centuries would be felt again.
And so Odin watched the remaining worlds with a mixture of nostalgia and bitter memories, spitting when he was forced to look upon Jotunheim with its barbarous population of Ice Giants and the general, frozen hell-like landscape and gave a respecting nod in salute of the Venir's world of Vanaheimr. However, he reserved the longest gaze and most mixed feelings for Midgard, home of humanity.
Millennia ago, Odin was capable of seeing all of Midgard at his whim, especially the homelands of his people who carried his blood in their veins, but in the thousands of years since, that ability had declined with his strength and ultimately was snuffed out. Relaxing his grip on the staff he used to prop himself on the tree stump, the old man felt his pets caws slip away, as he gazed, perhaps lovingly, it was difficult to tell with the Allfather at times, at the solitary blue orb that floated majestically in the cosmos. As it twisted and turned, Odin was able to cast his gaze on the fatherlands of his people, and his own face twisted in equal parts of horror, disgust and amazement. The teeming masses that inhabited the lands, millions, nay hundreds of millions. The grey Giants of stone that housed these masses and removed once great green landscapes from existence. The crimes, vice and debauchery that the Allfather had not seen since the Roman Empire, causing him to hawk and spit with disgust for a second time. However, Odin reserved his true contempt for the millions of churches that had been erected. Tightening his grip on the staff and turning his sapphire blue eye to an icy cold stare that could freeze the blood of any mortal that would have approached him then.
Those temples to the false god that had sought to eradicate the Norse Gods and their followers from existence had only grown in size, number and splendour. From tiny huts to leviathans of rock larger than palaces, they now existed in every nation. Odin's lip curled as he remembered the riches that these churches once contained, Gold, Silver, relics. True, most churches had lost such precious metals, but now they were lit by glass of many colours and decorated by richly ordained fabrics.
By contrast, the shrines that had once littered the earth had almost completely disappeared. The shrines that honoured him and his kin had been largely eradicated, either destroyed by fanatics or abandoned and fallen to disrepair. Temples of gods and goddesses across Midgard had been smashed to pieces, and worse, yet more churches had been built on the rubble, with the foul cross raised overhead to signify victory. "Aye" whispered Odin, "and they had that".
Even on the continents that Odin and his followers had never cared for, the Americas, Oceania and Asia, the cross was raised, a symbol of dominance, supremacy and overlordship. The discomfort he felt grew into rage as these, "lambs of God", were spread over the earth. An infestation, like woodworm in a feasting hall. They were weak, yet they reigned over Midgard while his wolves were dead, mere bones in the ground. It disgusted him. Why had he stirred, what power had been returned to him, only to bear witness to the cess pit that Midgard had become? To see millions file into churches to receive blessings from priests robes in purest white yet possessing hearts that were black as coal from corruption? He could only clutch his staff tighter, frowning in outrage and desperately searching with his one eye for a hopeful sign that granted him the strength to emerge from his exile in Asgard.
"There! Focusing on a single ritual circle in Norway, he found it. Fourteen bearded men, placed around a sacred yew tree. with long unkempt light hair and clothed in white robes decorated with symbols of the faith, chanting in veneration of his name, his sons, his wife. The words, oh how they sounded to him. Praise, reverence, acceptance of him as his Lord. A faint twitch of a smile struck him, and the Allfather gazed at Midgard with hope.
Continuing his search with his one eye, he saw similar rituals across the fatherlands. Denmark, Sweden, Norway, all contained pagans following the old ways. They chanted his name, Men, women and children. They were few and isolated, and worshipped in different ways, bearing different names that were new to him, Asatru, Odinism, Heathenry. It mattered little to him. The colonies, England, Scotland, the islands around, Iceland, Ireland, Wales, even as far as America, nation he had little knowledge of and cared even less for. Every one of those nations that his followers had raided, settled and warred over. Their descendants had preserved his blood in their veins and now they called to him and his kin, giving them strength. His rage tempered, Odin relaxed his grip on his staff and lay back on the stump.
"Yes," He whispered "They remember us. They call to us".
The smile turned into a wide grin and with the aching pain in his joints lessened, Odin felt a surge of triumph flow through his aged body. Rising to his feet and throwing his head back in reckless abandon he bellowed to the cosmos a warcry that he had not given in centuries, that spoke of ageless wisdom and infinite strength thought lost.
"HEAR ME, SONS OF ABRAHAM! HEAR ME, YOU 'LAMBS OF GOD'! HEAR MY WORDS AND DESPAIR! KNOW THAT YOUR VICTORY WAS ONLY TEMPORARY, AND PEACE HAS MADE YOU WEAK! KNOW THAT MY KIN, WHOSE FURY KNOWS NO BOUNDS, HAVE STIRRED TO AVENGE OUR FOLLOWERS WHO FELL UNDERNEATH YOUR BOOTS! THEIR DESCENDANTS LIVE AMONGST YOU AND THEY SHALL HEED OUR CALL! FOR THE END OF DAYS IS COMING FOR ALL, KNOW THAT HEATHENS EVERYWHERE WILL RISE WITH THEIR GODS AND TAKE BACK WHAT WAS LOST!"
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Odin listened to the distant echo of his own voice as it reverberated around the cosmos. True, on Midgard, they would not hear it, although a few minor earthquakes may be felt here and there, but it was not just Midgard who Odin intended to target. His mortal, or perhaps, immortal enemies would come. They would hear that call and they would answer it.
Settling himself down on the treestump, the Allfather felt the need to rest his eyes, for despite being immortal, his weakened state meant that the trappings of age could still affect him, and with the cawing of his pets, and Heimdallr's distant snores in the background, his eyelids fell shut and he slept.
He felt it before he woke up. A disturbance in his own realm of this magnitude had not been felt for centuries and even now, after all this time,the Allfather knew what it meant. It heralded the arrival of a great being and he knew it, although even in his weakened state he pondered whether he could face against it in his weakened state. The being could not enter the realm of Asgard, never mind the sacred City, without his permission, but Odin winced at the idea of hiding behind a gate. Nevertheless, he resolved to sit on the tree stump and give the cold face to whoever arrived.
From outside the gate, yet still on the Bifrost road to Midgard, a pinhole of light appeared. Despite its size, it glowed with the intensity of a thousand suns, forcing Odin to turn his face away slightly, lest he risk blinding his one good eye, yet he turned away only slightly, as he despised showing weakness. The pinhole grew quickly, expanding at an alarming rate, and it's light burned like a supernova. From its centre, a silhouette appeared and emerged, then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving behind a single man
Turning his gaze to size up the newcomer, Odin groaned quietly and rolled his eye as the figure approached. Wearing robes of whitest Ivory, hair of gold and skin that shone, Odin hated him already. Striding forward confidently, with more than a hint of arrogance, the angel fixed a false smile and tried to appear friendly, though Odin could clearly see he had a celestial sword at his hip.
"Wotan, Allfather, Odin" beamed the angel, never losing the smile on his oh so punchable face, "how long has it been? You know, God was beginning to wonder whether you'd ever come out. I suppose this counts as a diplomatic mission, although you and I both know this can be resolved quickly. What say you?"
By now he had reached the gate, and his eyes had assumed an expectant look on the gate, as if it would swing open at his approach, no doubt as it would in heaven. Under his thick white beard, Odin's lip curled in disgust as he sized up the Archangel and his brow furrowed in irritation. Regardless, if his visit was diplomatic, Odin was bound by guest rites, to allow him to enter his realm. Sighing and raising his hand, Odin beckoned for the gate to open, which it dutifully did. The archangel confidently strode in without his invitation, causing Odin's temple to flare up, yet he suppressed it. Raising his head to make eye contact, Odin caught full sight of the Angel, and through gritted teeth, he spoke.
"Welcome to Asgard, Gabriel of Heaven".