We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.
You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here and Part 8 Here.
Following the tremendous reaction garnered around the world and beyond we are pleased and nearly honoured to bring you Part 2 of The Scrolls.
There remains a debate amongst egg heads about Part 2. This is because it is not universally accepted by the shadowy Supreme Ginger Council that the Scrolls are indeed an accurate portrayal of the history of the ginger people and have in fact been completely made up.
This view has already featured on BBC 2’s excellent documentary series, “Smug bastards with nothing to be smug about being smug about things that nobody really cares about but allows them to travel the world, doinking dusky maidens and prattle on about the future of the Planet”.
Sadly our budget only stretches to sausage and chips in the local café served by Hilary a part-time orthodontic technician with a phobia for railings.
As with Part 1, an editorial decision has been taken to focus on the story and leave out the more technical elements contained in the Scrolls. This is particularly pertinent to one item.
The lard hair boats.
For those interested in discovering more about lard hair boats we recommend;
“Fat and Follicles – Ghingar boat building techniques and methods” by Douglas Sandwell OUP (635 pages and a pop up keel).
“Sculpting in Lard – fat myth or fat fiction? – Douglas Sandwell – OUP 230 pages (Out of print).
THE GINGER SCROLLS – PART 2 THE DEPARTURE CONTINUED……
The Story So Far; The remnants of the Ghingar have been forced to flee their loved homeland in the north as a result of attacks by the warlike tribes, the Hups, Cups, Jups and Lups who blamed the Gingars for the famine and joylessness visited upon their own lands by the refusal of the Sun to return to them after the long winter months.
Making good their escape in the lard hair boats designed by Rep the Carpenter, the remaining Ginghars are dealt a further blow by the suicide of their beloved Princess Treytel after her betrothed Vos, turned into a dolphin.
Only the brave words and sincere heart of the warrior Krol girded their loins. At the end of Part 1, the Great Lord Protector, Archangel Galleothon arises from the deep of the deep bits of the ocean to provide the heartbroken folk with hope and succor for their long journey into the southern seas and their untold future.
Their great journey now unfolds like a Cos lettuce leaf in a Waldorf salad. Enjoy.
We begin with Vos’ Lament for the death of his love Treytel……..
When told of her death he could not be solaced by friendly hand or pilchard snack as befitted a part man part Dolphin. Deep, deep into the eyes of Krol did Vos look as he bobbed in the swelling sea. Aghast at the news of the death of his love he forgot to float and sank into the deep. He hoved into view and cried out these words;
Stitch my wounds they have come undone
Rebind the ties that tether me to sanity
My heart bleeds useless sentiment
As I visit your memory
This breaking, raw, flailing pain
Swirls with unctuous ease
Around my mind
As to what if and perhaps
Youthful, stubborn pride
Earnest wishes of a mendicant fool
Return to me stolen years
Of the loss of you
Cold cold my mind’s eye now lies
No longer towards the sun and future untold
But to hoar frost breath of far behind
The Sun’s rays fall cold upon my soul
Embers of their fires warm no part of me
I am frozen in essence and form
Bereft of all that I know to be true
If I had known what I know now
I would have died for the memory of you
No love will conquer your loss
No hope will instill peace in me
This septic, taunting pain endures
As brute reminder to my folly
Friend, tell me how to forget her
Because I cannot
I will not, shall not
My last breath shall shape your name
My last thought shall capture your smile
My last heartbeat will be broken
And when the worms that will dine on me rest
They shall spell your name
Rip and tear my flesh
I have no need of it now
Salt these opened sores
A foolish life I have made
But a life I know must be lived
And true
To all those things
I hold dear
You above all
I wish you well
As I depart dead hopes
Now decaying and pustulant
But like a child’s first unsteady steps
There will be a world of untrampled dreams
To set foot upon once more with undisguised glee
I love you
But I must source peace
To tie me to sanity’s calm purpose
Tears soaked our cheeks as these words, whispered with a sadness as was never heard before or since, fell upon our souls like the dust from a traveller’s sandals.
Vos fell beneath the water as the life of the careworn mariner in the northern seas bade him to come forward. Like Treytel, he too was now lost to us.
To be continued….
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