'Tis I, Harry.
Drinker, singer, teller of tales and bringer of mirth.
Bard, minstrel, troubadour .... warrior poet.
The term saga originates from the Norse saga, and refers to "what is said" or "a narrative in prose" or "story, tale, history". It is cognate with the English word "say", and the German sagen.
Scholars believed these sagas were transmitted orally from generation to generation until scribes wrote them down in the 1200's. However, most scholars now believe the sagas were conscious artistic creations, based on both oral and written tradition.
Sagas are stories about ancient Scandinavian and Germanic history, legend and myth, about early Viking voyages, the battles that took place during the voyages, about migration to Iceland and of feuds between Icelandic families ... tales of heroic deeds of days long gone, "tales of worthy men."
This is just such a tale.
Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis and the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Harold, destined to wear the jeweled crown of Aquilonia upon a troubled brow. It is I, his chronicler, who alone can tell thee of his saga.
Let me tell you of the days of high adventure!
I’ll tell of a tale of a Viking,
As ‘appened in days long gone by.
Before Duke William became king of England
And ‘Arold got shot in the eye.
There were this one great big Viking called Harold
“the pious” he later became known.
It was nowt to do with religion
But the sign of “the pie” on his throne.
This is Harold:
As a youngster:
As a Warlord:
It started before he were born,
Just a twinkle in his father’s eye
T’was written in DNA and the stars
He’d inherit dads liking for pie.
T’was plain to see as a youngster
He were not much like other boys
He’d be hanging around in the kitchen
Whilst others were playing with toys.
Whilst others learned about fighting
Harold learned how to fry.
He learned of the arts of fine dinning.
And was taught the “secret of pie”
When he was just a boy his father taught him:
“Fire and wind come from the sky, from the gods of the sky. But Crust is your god, Crust and he lives in the earth. Once, giants lived in the Earth, Harold. And in the darkness of chaos, they fooled Crust, and they took from him the enigma of pie. Crust was angered. And the Earth shook. Fire and wind struck down these giants, and they threw their bodies into the waters, but in their rage, the gods forgot the secret of pie and left it on the battlefield. We who found it are just men. Not gods. Not giants. Just men. The secret of pie has always carried with it a mystery. You must learn its riddle, Harold. You must learn its discipline. For no one - no one in this world can you trust. Not men, not women, not beasts.
[Points to a pie]
This you can trust.”
And so his mission in life was established
Just one goal before he should die
He would embark on life’s great adventure,
To discover the riddle of pie.
He did not care any more... life and death... the same. Only that the crowd would be there to greet him with howls of lust and fury. He began to realize his sense of worth... he mattered. In time, his victories could not easily be counted... he was taken to the east, a great prize, where the pie masters would teach him the deepest secrets. Language and writing were also made available, the poetry of Khitai, the philosophy of Sung; and he also came to know the pleasures of women, when he was bred to the finest stock. But, always, there remained the discipline of pie.
Gathering some like minded fellows around him,
Who also liked the odd ale.
They built a boat called “The fruitless”
And in search of adventure set sail.
Adventure for them was found drinking
In pubs and bars they would lurk
And after the quaffing of ales,
they would regularly go quite berserk
They would drink their ale by the gallon,
get drunk and get into a fight
then chat up attractive young ladies
The “riddle of beer” was discovered alright!
For years they set about drinking,
wenching and running a muck
When it came to the “riddle of pie”
I’m afraid they were right out of luck.
The worlds oceans they had travelled,
They sailed around and around
All manner of pie had been eaten.
But the answer was not to be found.
MORE TO FOLLOW.