18th December 2001
It's way past my bedtime, which is usually the point where
some piece of familiar literature is about to be warped.
In keeping with the current season, yet attempting to alleviate the Merry overkill in the only way I can think of, this is a bit of Dark-age theology meeting some poor medieval bastard, in something not quite "the night before Christmas"...
'Twas the night after Wednesday, when all through the castle
Not a creature was brawling, not even a vassal;
The scabbards were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that new weaponry soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of scimitars danced in their heads;
And mam' with her mace, and I with my flail,
Had just settled down for a long winter's ale,
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the longbench - what was the matter?!
Off to the window gap, fast like a flash,
I tore up the shutters and stabbed through the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-blooded snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to an army below,
When, my wandering eyes saw past the moats,
A miniature cart, drawn by two tiny goats,
With a big hairy man, his beard red as flame,
Twas a wonder indeed! - I did not know his name.
More rapid than rapiers his minions they tussled,
And he roared, and shouted, as through them he muscled;
"Now, BASTARD! now, BROAD! now, BEARDED and VIKING!
On, PATTERN-WELDED! on, SCRAMASEAX STRIKING!
"Clear me a path to the top of that wall -
Cut away! hack away! slash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane shredded,
When they met with an obstacle, soon it was deaded,
So up to the turrets the minions they sprang,
Slaying all else with an almighty clang.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard such a clamour
The thudding and clanging of some kind of hammer
As I drew out my blade, and whirled around,
Down the chimney he came with a bound.
Dressed all in chainmaille, from head to his foot,
Underclothes tarnished with rust, grease and soot;
A bundle of weapons he'd flung on his back,
I crouched defensive - fearing attack.
His eyes -- how they glowered! his dimples quite nasty!
His cheeks were scar laden, his nose red and pasty!
His hardlined mouth grim, he was not at all merry,
His beard and his hair was red like a cherry;
And hung from a big belt encircling his belly
The sight of his hammer shook my bowels like jelly.
Bulky and tall, he was not dwarf or elf,
And I nearly did widdle, in spite of myself;
He had a red face which was thunderously creased,
Who the heck was this big hairy beast?!!
Turning his back on me, (was this a trick?
Surely that gentleman wasn't so thick...)
He spoke not a word, though I thought he'd attack,
Instead he filled scabbards; before turning back.
Taking his hammer, and lofting it high
He flew up the chimney without a goodbye.
He sprang to his goats, to his minions gave order,
And away they all charged to attack a new border.
But I heard him thunder, ere he drove out of sight,
"MERRY THOR'SDAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD FIGHT!"
;) ~ K.J. Wright