Not Just Another God ✓

Chapter 3: I get a new step-dad (and I don't think he likes me)

I looked up as the sound of a male voice sounded down the rainbow, vibrating the surface just enough to make me notice. 

"Lady Frigg!" it called, "what are you doing down there?" 

Mom shook her head as we picked up speed, our legs threatening to give out under us if we walked any longer. 

Maybe this was the Fates' idea of a practical joke. I imagined them popping out of nowhere and cackling their heads off. 

"Haha," they would say, "we got you this time, Perseus." 

Just as I thought I really couldn't go on any further the darkness of the sky grayed. 

The skyline of another city rose, showing off its gleaming walls, golden gates, and behind them, the spires and domes of the gods' palaces. It was just as impressive, maybe even more so than Olympus. 

Annabeth would be scribbling all kinds of notes, and telling me all sorts of facts if she were here. 

Standing in front of us on the bridge, stood what I assumed to be Heimdall. 
He wore a padded cloth tunic and woolly leggings, all beige from soaking up the colors of the Bifrost for far too long. His hair was white-blond and fuzzy like a sheep's fleece. His grinning face was darkly tanned, which might have been the result of standing on a radioactive bridge for thousands of years. 

His only weapon was an unsheathed sword, which was almost as tall as he was, and the huge curled ram's horn slung over his left shoulder. The horn and sword looked imposing, though they were both so large they kept knocking into one another. 

When he saw us, he waved enthusiastically a crash resonating throughout the distance of his weapons crashing about. 

"Lady Frigg and that half-foreign dude!" he said, bowing in a deep, exaggerated manner, his horn clunking against his sword as he moved. 

"Oops," he offered with a careless shrug, "Forgot that was there."

Mom gave him a patient smile, through her eyes were strained. 

"We're visiting Asgard," she said. 

Heimdall tilted his head in curiosity, like a dog would. 

"He's changing for the better everyday, you know," he said, and I glanced at Mom, confused. 

"I know," she stated, her tone emotionless, which was very unusual. 

"Oh!" he said,"before I let you in, can I get a selfie? It's not every day a hálfr blóð comes to my Bifrost."

"Uh," I started before Mom interrupted, "We'd love to!" and gave me a stern look. Sometimes, I feel my mom might be a little too nice.

"Great!" he said and started to fiddle with his horn and sword.

"Need any help?" I asked.

"No, no, I'm good. Just need to–Ah!" he said proudly as his horn shifted into the largest smartphone I had ever seen. 

"Your horn is a phone?" I asked, skeptically. 

"Well, technically, it's a phablet. But yeah, this is Gjallar, the Horn and/or Phablet of Doomsday! I blow this baby once, the gods know there's trouble in Asgard and they come running. I blow it twice, then it's Ragnarok!" He said proudly. "But most of the time, I just use it for photos and texting and whatnot." 

"Okaaay," I said slowly, wondering yet again why such a guy would be in charge of what I gathered to be the most important date in Norse Mythology. 

"Yep! I'm in charge of Doomsday! Once, I accidentally dialed the apocalypse? It was, like, crazy embarrassing. I had to text everybody on my contacts list, like, False alarm! A whole lot of gods came running anyway. I made this GIF of them attempting to charge up the Bifrost in full armour and everything and then realizing there was no battle. It was epic." Heimdall laughed, shaking his head at a fond memory.