“Heimdallr is the name of one: he is called the White God. He is great and holy; nine maids, all sisters, bore him for a son. He is also called Hallinskídi and Gullintanni; his teeth were of gold, and his horse is called Gold-top. He dwells in the place called Himinbjörg, hard by Bifröst: he is the warder of the gods, and sits there by heaven’s end to guard the bridge from the Hill-Giants. He needs less sleep than a bird; he sees equally well night and day a hundred leagues from him, and hears how grass grows on the earth or wool on sheep, and everything that has a louder sound. He has that trumpet which is called Gjallar-Horn, and its blast is heard throughout all worlds. Heimdallr’s sword is called Head. It is said further:
Himinbjörg ’tis called, | where Heimdallr, they say,
Aye has his housing;
There the gods’ sentinel | drinks in his snug hall
Gladly good mead.
And furthermore, he himself says in Heimdalar-galdr:
I am of nine | mothers the offspring,
Of sisters nine | am I the son.”
Heimdallr protects the realm of the Gods and more specifically the path that leads to that realm. We look to Heimdallr for vigilance. We honor his example by looking closely and clearly, we honor him by listening and anticipating. As we are an ancestral faith, Heimdallr is one of the first of our ancestors and he taught our distant grandfathers how to become more, how to raise his status, he taught our ancient grandfathers the mysteries of existence through the runes.
May we honor Heimdallr with duty. May we honor Heimdallr with vigilance. May we honor Heimdallr by embracing our birth rite and being the noble Folk he taught us we could be so very long ago.