The Search for Truth - December, 20, 1718 [tag: Odin]
Thoth looked at the Rainbow Bridge before him with fascination. There was no other way to describe it other than fascinating. A bridge... made of a rainbow. It was the way to the lands of the gods of the Scandinavian people. Not known for being particularly cautious, preferring instead to plow forward and adjust as the wind required it, Wisdom did toe at the edge of the bridge to be sure it was solid.
It wasn't as if the old Egyptian was particularly worried about falling and hurting himself. It was more of disbelief. Rainbows simply weren't solid objects. They were formed by the way the light moved through the moisture in the air and... yeah. But this, he realized as he put one foot down, was solid enough to walk upon. It obviously wasn't something the mortals could see or they would be forever climbing to the realms of their gods.
Nodding his head once, Thoth pressed onward and started walking toward the mythical land of Asgard. It was quite a journey, mysterious and rather epic when one thought about it, but he was determined to learn more about these young gods from the north right from their own mouths. He'd done some minor reading on the pantheon, enough to make him wonder what was factual and what was not. Obviously, the Rainbow Biforst Bridge was fact and not embellished fiction.
Fascinating.
It might not have been the right time for a visit, the Swedish Scandinavian lands newly folded their empire at the death of Charles XII in Norway, but to Thoth, it seemed the gods were unencumbered by war at the moment so the timing was perfect. So, he walked onward toward the mythical Asgard.
It was also cold. Colder than the Egyptian could have ever fathomed before. Sure, living in London he was used to the idea of snow, but the bitter, bitter cold of the Scandinavian lands was not only foreign to him, it cut through his woolen clothes and bit his flesh. This, however, did not dampen his spirits.
And when, after quite a walk, the old Egyptian approached a man on the end of the bridge, standing guard of an opening in a large wall, he raised a hand, nodded his head to the guardian and greeted him in Egyptian. Then he laughed, realizing his err, and continued in Icelandic -the language the primary sources for their mythology had been written in. “What am I thinking, I must speak in your language. Hello, I am called Thoth of Egypt, I seek an audience with your people...”
The guardian of the bridge looked rather gruff and not at all willing to let the Egyptian pass. “You certainly must be Heimdall,” Thoth extended an arm for greeting, “pleasure to meet you...”
Still, no visible response other than a brief glance over his shoulder. “Is there someone I can meet with to discuss the nature and history of your peoples?”