Chapter 13 – My Sword is my Sword
Aiden reckoned he got his sight back after about twenty seconds or so and really wished he’d listened to Oldfart when he told him not to look at the stage. By this time, Sacred Wind were blasting out the instrumental overture to their first song and the atmosphere in The Sheep’s Stirrup was crackling with anticipation. The overture ended with a mighty crescendo, followed by some very impressive guitar, bass and drum interplay. A crunching guitar riff and lead solo then set the scene for eight bars before Olaf burst into song…
We drop our pants for Odin
And climb upon our steeds
We pass the Sacred Wind
Until our bottoms bleed
It's all in praise of Odin
We feel him in our hearts
For he gives us our power
And we give him our farts
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Raise you bottom to the sky
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Spread your cheeks, spread them wide
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Let your bottom burp with pride
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
To the circle of wind we ride
The Sheep’s Stirrup was indeed ‘rocking’. The crowd were obviously familiar with the song and sang along enthusiastically to the chorus. Mr Kneepatcher had fainted as soon as Olaf had started to sing and was being revived by Roisin. ‘Ooh, have you seen how tight his pants are. I’m all of a dither again!’ he said, fanning himself with his hand.
Aiden adjusted the sound and equalization levels slightly, to account for the fact that the place was now filled with people and sheep. It was sounding pretty good; loud, but clear as a bell.
We hail the mighty Asgard
With fire in our veins
In all its strength and majesty
In flatulence it reigns
Oh hear this mighty Odin
From one who is so true
My rear end shakes like thunder
As I let one go for you
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Raise you bottom to the sky
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Spread your cheeks, spread them wide
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
Let your bottom burp with pride
Fart for Odin, Fart for Odin
To the circle of wind we ride
A symphonic mid-section had the crowd waving their hands in the air and Henry Fluffywool turning his nose up disapprovingly. Grundi the Windy then launched into a screaming guitar solo and Aiden was treated to the sight of some sheep playing air guitar… quite well, actually.
It was at this point that he noticed the strangely-dressed, small man that had arrived with Oldfart. The little chap was scribbling away on his notepad, hardly ever looking up and actually watching the band.
‘Fart for Odin’ reached its rip-roaring finale and The Sheep’s Stirrup exploded with cheers and applause. ‘It’s good to be back,’ Olaf shouted, with a huge grin on his face. ‘So, are you people ready for metal?’
‘Yes!’ screamed the crowd.
‘Are you people ready for curry?’
‘Yes!’ the crowd screamed again, and General Lamb Korma-Saffron Rice looked around nervously, raising one of his mini poppadoms in the air protectively.
‘Well, if you’re ready for metal and you’re ready for curry, what are you ready for?’
‘Metal and Curry!’ roared the crowd.
‘I can’t hear you!’ Olaf screamed back.
‘Metal and Curry!’ roared the crowd again, much louder.
‘Metal and Curry!’ screamed Olaf, and off they went.
Another town, another pub
Another place where I can get my grub
My axe is honed
It's in fine fettle
My pants are tight
And I'm ready for metal
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Give it to me now 'cause I'm in a hurry
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Pile my plate high and there'll be no worries
‘Try not to listen to the words, Your Majesty,’ Saffy said to Tikky. ‘They may upset you.’
‘Oh, don’t be so prudish, Saffy. It’s only a song,’ Tikky replied. ‘Anyway, I like this one, it really tenderises my chicken.’
‘Tikky!’ Vindy cried. ‘You shouldn’t say such things in public… you should wait until we’re alone afterwards,’ he added, simmering ever so slightly.
Another night, another gig
Another table
And my plate is big
The crowds are wild, they don't want no crock
They're primed for metal
And they're ready to rock
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Give it to me now 'cause I'm in a hurry
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Pile my plate high and there'll be no worries
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Give me poppadoms too cause I want a full tummy
Metal and Curry, Metal and Curry
Make my plate big, don't be a dummy
Olaf and Grundi then executed a scintillating guitar dual, with Smid and Agnar hammering away in the background. Mr Kneepatcher was at the front of the crowd continually supplicating himself in front of Olaf.
As the band continued with classic songs such as ‘Warriors of Asgard’ (which contained quite a few references to buxom damsels in distress), ‘Rock, Rock, Rock, Rock Ragnarok’ (which told of the doom of the gods when ‘all things will go boom’) and ‘The Power of Cheese,’ (which paid homage to… cheese), Aiden was convinced that Sacred Wind were one of the best live bands he’d ever seen, even if the lyrics did seem slightly ridiculous on occasion.
‘What do you think, then?’ Oldfart said.
‘They’re fantastic, Oldfart. I can’t believe I’ve not come across them before.’ And then he remembered where he was.
‘This one’s for all the ladies, ewes and chicken tikkas in the audience,’ Olaf shouted, to the screams of ladies, the high pitched baaing of ewes and the hysterical yelp of delight from Queen Chicken Tikka Masala-Coconut Rice. ‘This is called “Sail with Me”.’
I was just a fool
Playing by the rules
Ravaging and pillaging
And trying to look cool
Then you made me see
All that life can be
Now you are inside my heart
I want you here with me
Stay by my side
Make my life complete, baby
You are the one, you're my light
Now you've made my helmet shine
Sail with me
Now I've found you I never wanna let you go
Hold my oar
Forever more
Sail with me
Now I've found you I never wanna let you go
Hold my oar
Forever more
Mr Breezy and Mr Waft stayed glued to the bar while the band continued to play. They sipped their drinks politely but looked increasingly uncomfortable. ‘How long is it until they finish?’ Mr Breezy asked Maurice.
‘Oh, well they’re due off stage at about 10:00 pm, so I guess about another fifteen minutes or so. Are you enjoying the concert, gentlemen?’
‘It’s an experience we’ll always remember,’ said Mr Waft, with a deadpan face.
‘It’s just a pity they can’t play in the Cestrian Music Tournament next week,’ Maurice said. ‘I’m sure they’d have a great chance of winning.’
‘I’m sure they would indeed light up that particular event,’ Mr Breezy said, with barely concealed sarcasm.
Henry Fluffywool was stood next to them and couldn’t help overhearing. ‘Of course it’s not real music,’ he said. ‘I’ll grant they can play their instruments and sing, but where are the nuances, the subtle counterpoints, the soft adagios, the delicate pastorals, the exhi
larating allegros?’
‘Yes, it’s not really our cup of tea either,’ said Mr Breezy. ‘Our tastes are more, how shall we say, quieter.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, my good man,’ Henry said. ‘Give me a nice flute concerto any day and I’m happy as a ram in mating season.’
‘This next song is for the Viking on my left,’ Olaf said, as he and Grundi picked up acoustic guitars. ‘For a long time now, Grundi the Windy has been in love.’
‘Aah,’ said the crowd.
‘But this is a love that is unrequited,’ continued Olaf.
‘Aah,’ said the crowd again, and Grundi looked genuinely downcast.
‘For he is in love with a goddess; and not just any goddess, but the wife of our Lord Odin himself.’
‘Ooh,’ sighed the crowd.
‘Long has he yearned for her beauty, long has he yearned for her touch, long has he yearned to smell her armpits, but alas this is something that can never be.’
Grundi shook his head, dejectedly.
‘And so, in honour of our friend’s love we have written this song about the goddess of his dreams. This is called “Frigg”.’
Aiden panicked a bit, because there hadn’t been any sound check for the acoustic guitars. Fortunately they both sounded crisp and tuneful through the PA. Olaf’s voice was tender and mellow, and several members of the audience held little lanterns aloft. Dry ice drifted out from the stage area, creating a soft and wispy blanket that went up to everyone’s knees.
In times of silence
I think of you
You're in my dreams when I sleep
And my heart when I wake
You are my goddess
And my sword is yours
Your beauty shines like the sun
As my tears fall like rain
Then Oldfart hit the flashbomb button again as the chorus erupted.
Frigg… your face is eternal
Frigg… your body is divine
Frigg… your mouth speaks only wisdom
Frigg… your armpits smell of wine
I wish I could be your lover
Odin's such a lucky bugger
Frigg
Another heartstring-pulling verse followed and things really took off after the second chorus, when the guitar solo kicked in. Grundi played as though his life depended on it, hitting soaring notes, ripping through blindingly fast arpeggios and ending up on his knees with his head thrust backwards. The audience went crazy and Mr Kneepatcher was in tears. ‘I love you Grundi,’ he shouted, waving his tear-soaked hanky.
One of the other bar staff whispered something in Maurice’s ear and he nodded in understanding. He picked up his cleaning cloth and walked over to the King and Queen’s table. ‘Your Majesties, I am informed that the other “guests” have arrived. They are presently awaiting your company in the room I have prepared upstairs. I have taken the liberty of telling them it would be better to wait until the band have finished before having discussions.’
‘Thank you, Maurice,’ Vindy said. ‘That makes sense. And, as much as I’m looking forward to meeting our esteemed guests, it would be a pity to miss the end of the show.’
‘I second that,’ said Tikky.
As the noise of the crowd died down, Olaf held onto the microphone stand with two hands, letting his guitar hang loose on its strap. ‘I’m afraid that this is our last number for this evening.’
‘Aw,’ the crowd cried.
‘But, I’d just like to say that when we play our next gig, the audience there will have a lot to live up to, because tonight you’ve shown that Llangollen is the most rock ‘n’ roll town in the land!’
The crowd went completely wild, whooping and hollering. ‘This is for all of you. It’s called “Sacred Wind”. Now let me see some hands!’
And so the band launched into their theme tune with virtually the entire pub clapping along. Even General Lamb Korma-Saffron Rice was clicking his mini poppadoms together.
I can feel it building
From deep down inside
Can you see my cheeks tremble
As the gases start to rise
It's the breath of Odin
And it's forever hallowed
You better head for the hills now
Cause it's about to explode!
You can run
And you can hide
But you're never gonna last
Cause you'll be felled
By my sword
And a blast from my ass!
Feel the power of my wind
Sacred wind
Feel the power of my wind
Sacred Wind
Sacred Wind
See my foes as they scatter
As they flee from the smell
With my sword and wind with me
I'll send them straight to hell!
And they'll take a message
To tell to far and near
About the power of my sword
And of my bottom of fear
‘Sacred Wind’ ended with more flashbombs, dry ice and the stage area awash with strobe lighting. Then everything went black and when the lights came up the band were gone.
‘More! More! More!’ yelled the crowd, apart from the sheep who yelled ‘Baa! Baa! Baa!’
A minute or so of wild applause passed and then the lights went down once more. A single spotlight shone and Olaf the Berserker appeared. ‘Thank you so much. We love you all!’ he roared. ‘Now, we do have one more song for you.’
‘Here we go,’ said Oldfart. ‘This should be pretty spectacular.’
‘Many years ago there were men who wished to keep both people and sheep in a state of fear. They were bad men. What were they?’ he asked the crowd.
‘Bad men!’ shouted the crowd.
‘When we saw the deprivation these men had wrought, we knew we had no choice but to intervene. So, this song is based on a true story. It’s called “My Sword is my Sword”.’
The crowd went potty as Olaf, Grundi and Smid played the opening notes. Agnar battered a fast drum fill and then they were off; a galloping double-bass drum beat supported scything guitar and bass, with Grundi playing an emotion-filled guitar solo.
When we came to this land
There was evil in the fields
The trees had no leaves
And the sheep were in trauma
So we made a solemn vow
And gathered up our arms
And rode past all the farms
And the people were waving
(We said)
Have no fear
Help is here
And we ride now to bring you salvation
This is our song
It will make us strong
It will free you from fear and destruction
My sword is my sword
My shield is my shield
Together we ride
Into the battlefield
And our foes will fall
At our feet
As we fight
For honour
And glory
The audience sang along joyously to the chorus and even Aiden felt compelled to join in. The little fellow with the cloak was getting very giddy, trying to clap along while holding his notepad and pen… which he dropped on the floor.
‘Bless my clacky hooves,’ he said, as he picked it up. It was a voice Aiden found vaguely familiar.
So we polished our steel
And rode to the bad men's castle
We said there would be no hassle
If they left the people alone
But they laughed at us and swore
And showered us with spears
But we did not show fear
And that's when we got our swords out
(We said)
You will fall
Death will call
He waits now in anticipation
We will not fail
Yes, we will prevail
So for death now you should make preparat
ion
A second uplifting chorus was followed by yet another virtuoso guitar solo from Grundi… and that’s when the two armed warriors burst through the door.
The crowd parted so the two warriors could get to the stage area, where they began clashing swords and hammering away at each other’s shields. The sound of metal on metal was audible above the PA as the music died down to a whisper. Then Olaf sang again, accompanied only by a dulcet bass line from Smid.
The battle was fierce
But we stood our ground
And their shields broke
As our swords crashed down
Then the band came in with crushing staccato bursts.
And so they got scared
And they ran away
So we sang our song
We had won the day
Somewhat inevitably there was an audience participation section, with more singing, baaing, clapping, poppadom clicking and lanterns, before the final chorus and massive flashbomb-littered finale. The band left the stage to thunderous applause and, after acknowledging the appreciative crowd, went straight over to the large table Maurice had reserved for Queen Ophelia, Roisin and Mara. Ophelia jumped up and gave Olaf a big kiss before sitting down on his knee.
‘Right, then,’ Oldfart said to Aiden, as he switched off the PA and lighting rigs. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.’
As they walked over to the table, Aiden looked around to see if the little fellow in the cloak was joining them, but to his surprise he was nowhere to be seen.