I AM WALKING UP A PATH. There is snow, and there is ice, and the path inclines upwards towards a full moon so that it seems as though I could walk to the moon if I continue on the trail. The night is dark and covers both horrors and treasures.
I approach a large Oak tree, and beneath the tree is seated a most unusual man. He rises as I near him, and I can only wonder at the creature I see. He is about eight feet tall and maybe five feet broad. What I can see of his skin and his hair is the purest white. He wears helm and breastplate, gauntlets and boots that shine golden, and they match the color of his eyes, which appears to be the eyes of an eagle.
The man speaks in deepened tones to me as I stand before him. "Be thou mortal or god, know that you stand before Heimdall of the Aesir, son
