The Lay of Sigurd: Remixed Part VI a.
Long did I ride from the mountain of Hindarfell, fleeing the horror of a committed relationship. I flew fleet as the wind on my glorious steed, Grani, said to have been descended from Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse of Odin. How did I come by such a bitchin' horse? None of your f
ucking business! It's certainly not a plot hole that I'm too lazy to go back and fix. I came to the sea after riding over many leagues and did what any man would do when faced with the threat of romantic enslavement. I fled the country. Crossing the sea I came to Denmark and then made my way to Germany, where I found along the Rhine the land of the Gjukings. I had heard that this land was a haven for True Metal with a king who was a True Metalhead of the highest caliber and who welcomed fellow Defenders of the Faith into his great hall. I figured that this was as good a place as any to hide out from Brynhild, so I decided to see what I could see.
When I finally came to the Gjuking capital I was truly impressed with its Conanness. It was sprawled over a steep hill that would have been easy to defend against marauding poseurs. At the very top of the hill was a great wooden hall that I was sure smelled of mead, vomit, and semi-consensual sex. I rode through the gates of the city and looked about at the sites. The rumors of this land's metalness appeared to be accurate. The people were clothed in an assortment of denim, leather, spiked and studded belts and wristbands, and other accouterments of the True Metalhead. Their hair was either long or shaved bald with a bitchin' tattoo. The shops were selling band shirts, Flying V guitars, and vinyl albums (this was ancient times after all.) Yet the mood of the city was dark and oppressive, but there was still a fire in every eye that was the mark of a True Metalhead.
Soon I came to the hall and was stopped by the guards, "Halt in the name of True Metal! None may pass who are not Defenders of the Faith." Then he noticed my Morbid Angel shirt, apologized, and let me pass. When I entered the hall I saw at the far side a man seated on a great throne. As I approached him I noticed that he had the most kickass viking beard that I had ever seen. It was assuredly covered in dried mead and the blood of his enemies. Sweet. It was in fact such a kickass beard that I knew it to be the beard of none other than Amon Amarth's vocalist,
Johan Hegg. Kick the f
uck ass! Seeing my Morbid Angel shirt he knew that I was a fellow True Metalhead and, throwing the horns, addressed me, "Hail, motherf
ucker! It kicks ass to see another Defender of the Faith in my kingdom. Morbid Angel f
ucking rule!" I threw the horns back at him and said, " F
uck yeah, dude! You got a kickass f
ucking kingdom here, man. Nothing but headbangers as far as the eye can see. If I was a pussy this s
hit'd make me f
ucking cry." He beamed proudly saying, "This place seriously needed metal, so I came here to bring True Metal to this forsaken land." This was a truly worthy and selfless endeaver and what better kick and badass a motherf
ucker than Johan Hegg was there to spread the True Faith to the darkest corners of the time-space continuum? Throwing up the horns again I told him, "Long live the King and s
hit! That f
ucking rules! So, uh...I'm sorta trying to hide out from this crazy chick who's trying to put the ol' ball and chain on me, so...do you think you could help a fellow headbanger out?" Standing up he declared, "Say no more, dude. Metalheads before chickenheads. Mi hall es su hall. You're just in time for dinner too. We got like ten tons of meat cooking. None of that pussy ass vegetarian bulls
hit in my f
ucking hall!" I was all like "F
uck yeah!" and soon a long wooden table was brought out and much food was laid upon it.