A sketch conceived by my son Adam. More Than This Opening Scene The viewer is slowly flying through thick clouds, there is snow and the sound of the wind. Slowly we begin to descend and snow covered mountains appear through the murk. Atop a rocky out-crop we see a huge hall of men. It glows with lights and down the wind we hear snatches of sound. As we get closer the noise resolves itself into raucous singing, cheering, the breaking of furniture and pots. It is clear there is a boisterous party taking place within. Suddenly two horses gallop across the sky past the camera, one on the right then on the left. The powerful sound of women singing drowns the noise from the hall as they fly toward it. The women riding the huge horses are clad in armour and their yellow hair can be seen flying beneath steel helmets. They each carry a warrior across the saddle pommel. Our view changes to the exterior of the hall. In the faint light a warrior is pissing against the wall. It appears to be constructed of huge tree trunks. He hums pleasantly to himself to the strain of the merriment from within. A postern door opens flooding the snow with warm orange light. Another warrior arrives and takes his position at the wall with a nod and a grunt. The horses fly overhead and the singing of the women drifts down to them. Viking.1. Huh, here comes another lot. Viking.2. Aye, there will be much feasting in the hall this night. Viking.1. Well yeah, that’s all we do innit?. Viking.2. Nay, ‘tis not all. For there is the fighting. Viking.1. Well yes, yes. I’ll grant you that, the fighting yeah. Viking.2. And let us not bemoan the wenching. Viking.1. Obviously, obviously, the wenching. They continue with their ablutions in companiable silence till finally. Viking.1. What beats me is why? Viking.2. Why what friend? Viking.1. The scoffing, the quaffing, the scrapping, and the……. shaggimg. Why? Viking.2. But friend, this is Valhalla, the sacred home and final rest of every warrior. ‘Tis only right that these things are given. We have served our lords well in goodly combat be it in the shield wall or pell mell upon the field and we have done that which every true warrior in his heart desires. We have died brave and true with our swords in our hands. Viking.1. I died with my guts in mine. First time too, I mean it’s not as if I wanted to go. Blacksmith, that was my trade, someone will always need a blacksmith my dad said. Not good enough for her in the hut was it? He puts on a mocking squeaky voice. “Her nextdoor got the book of Kells when Gulflarf got back off his last raid. What do I get? Mended pots” she says. She made me sleep with the cow…… Mind you we all slept with the cow. Viking.2. And so the next morn you went straight way to your lord and pledged your sword to his glory and protection. Viking.1. Well…. Had to make one first. They have finished pissing and he gazes into the sky wistfully. Took me bloody ages that sword. Viking.2. Was it woven all about with many spells and incantations of the smith’s art? Viking.1. No. It was to get her in the hovel to shut up. She rumbled me in the end though, when bloody Gulflarf came back with a Lindisfarn cross. Viking.2. Still you fought with true valour and died well and here you are. A just reward for a warrior fallen. Viking.1. What I don’t see is the point of it all? Viking.2. Friend? The postern opens and a man staggers out. He throws up on the snow smiles at them weakly and returns slamming the door. Viking.1. All that. He waves his hand in the direction of the door. When I first got here I gave it a try you know. I mean I’m here can’t help that, no going back, might as well enjoy myself. But it gets a bit samey. Viking.2. Samey? My friend what could be better? We rise at dawn to a fair morning after a night of debouch with no ill effects. We then have the choice of fighting, feasting or f ing. We can fight and fear no wounds, we can feast and fear no morn after and we can f k and fear no…….complications. Viking.1. There has to be more than that. Viking.2. What? Viking.1. Look, these mountains, I bet there’s some really nice walks up the valleys. Has anyone catalogued the flowers down there? No we just trample all over them. First time I went down the meadow I got my head chopped off! Right off! Fearing no wounds my arse! It took me ages to find it again. Look at this. He slaps the wall. Logs stood on end I ask you! We have one of the most delicate and developed art traditions of the ancient world, where’s the carving? Viking.2. Friend, friend, you miss the point of goodly Valhalla, ‘tis a place of joy for men, where every warrior can be happy. Viking.1. Not every one. Viking.2. What? Viking.1. Aelfwald, he wants to learn the lute. Viking.2. Pray not Aelfwald? He that struck the head from the gorgan? Viking.1. Yep. Venslingen, he’s looking at amateur dramatics. Viking.2. Venslingen the dragon slayer? Viking.1. Hum, Now Grimbold… Viking.2. Aha! You cannot tell me that Grimbold the mightiest berserker of all Norse legend has succumbed to this nonsense? Why I once saw him send a thousand men to their deaths in one fit. Viking.1. Anger management courses. Viking.2. Odin’s balls! Are there more? Viking.1. Wolfhalf wants to set up pony trekking on the high moors. Plenty of horses around. Viking.2. Nay for shame! The valkyrie would not stand for such! Viking.1. Oh they don’t mind, they’ll be happy enough once Eric sets up his beauty spa. Viking.2. Do my ears play the tricks of Loki? A beauty spa? Viking.1. Yep. Down by the lava pools. Nice ‘n’ warm down there and that mud’s lovely stuff. I mean have you seen the state of some of the wenches up close? They’ll be flocking down there once Madrog starts his hairdressing. Viking.2. What you say friend fills my heart with sorrow and my breast with such anger. It grieves me to think that warriors of men should tire of Valhalla! Oh! It fills me with such rage. We are trained killers not milk sops. I am biter, slaSHER, RIPPER, GOUGER. I AM BEOWULF! Viking.1. Yeah, about that. I know you’re the great warrior and all that but hearing that bloody poem every night in that sing song voice, I’m surprised the bard hasn’t been strung up. And he can’t come back again not allowed. Come on you’ve got to admit it’s a bit boring. All eternity bashing people with axes then chasing Gwenlingen round behind the mead barrals. They stop and their eyes lose focus as if they are viewing some inner vision. Viking.1. Well, maybe not Gwenlingen… Viking.2. No! Viking 1. But you know what I mean. Viking.2. What other devilry is a foot in fair Valhalla? Viking 1 counts on his fingers. Viking.1. Flower arranging, painting classes, sculpture, needlework, basket weaving, woodwork, book club, learn to read club first obviously, self defence,…. Viking.2. Self defence? Viking.1. Yeah, I’m not sure Athelstan really understands about that. Oh nature group, bird watching and poetry, bard’s doing that. Viking.2. Poetry eh? Viking.1. Oh yeah. Viking.2. Friend, oft times I have had such rhyme in me that would tear a man’s soul were it heard. Viking.1 You should go along on Woden’s days. They turn and walk back to the door. The noise increases and loud thuds can be heard. Viking.2. They begin the axe throwing contest early this night. Viking.1. It’s to impress the new guys. You know it’s a shame the wenches aren’t included in the no wounds thing. Viking.2. Aye, ‘tis difficult to sever a girl’s braids with a throwing axe. Viking.1. Especially when you’re pissed. They open the door and amid the carousing there is a thud, a scream, and a cheer. They look at each other, wince and walk in closing the door behind them. We leave the hall as we came reversing up in to the cloud wrack till it fades from view.