The Ginger Scrolls – Part 3 (Of Many)

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 and Part 2 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 3……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

As we say “In the darkest times night follows night”. The wisest knew that such darkness and cold meant that other tribes suffered from similar tribulation. We lived with our way and them with theirs. We hope it would stay that way. It was, alas not to be.

The King of the Hup, a mighty warrior ennobled as Overath, bade blood and fury to reek vengeance upon nature itself and tear the gentle Earth apart to teach her a lesson that never more would she treat the Hup with such disdain. His rage a madness that could only be lessened by death.

He crushed the skulls of thirteen House Carls with his double headed axe and bade for the blood of others. “Tis our tithe to kill, Tis our right to life, Tis our right to blame,” he cried. The people of Hup agreed and foamed with false anger and blazed with sham rage. Strangers. To blame. To find. To punish.

“To the North, to the North. The Ghingars have wrought this upon us with their devilry and odourless magic. It is they who must be stopped. For they are seeking to capture our souls for their own evil intent. They seek to starve us and steal the sun from us – we must destroy them. Summon the other Kings from Lup, Jup, Cup and Wup – I declare Council must be opened!”

It was as if they had become a single terrible beast spoken of in our own fables but never seen, whiffed or heard. A beast of ignorant rage and no more. “To the toll booth then –who has change?” cried mighty warrior Overath. With the Lups, Cups, Jups and Wups now in unison with the Hups, they sailed in mighty force in stone clad ships, captained by the black hearted sailor birds of the Vogts tribe, half man half puffin who sought no more reward than fish for their black hearted deeds.

 

They sailed for evil intent.

We still huddled in our homes, yearning for lost sun and warmth and food did not see, hear or sense their approach. Three hundred or so ships melting from the east, slicing through our frozen waters in their stone clad vessels like a snore through dreams.

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The Ginger Scrolls – Part 2 (Of Many)

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

Now ’tis time for Part 2

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

 

Ours was a simple world, made good by kindness, potatoes and a lack of foot disorders.

Kindness would be shown to strangers who ventured to our Homestead. The stranger would find life so satisfying that he would stay in perpetuity. On these rare times we would learn of the times in other worlds, the rise and fall of empires far to the South, East and West –  of men of different creeds and living their lives with many more laws, too many I would wager for peace to be allowed to roam over their lands and their people.

For the outsiders, where contentment was a threat rather than a treat, the non-return of strangers, or Nonomers as they were titled, from our lands only saw a further sense of mystery wrap itself around our people.

Tales of devilry and witchery amongst we Ginghars came common to these ignorant tongues. Tales were told by their story men and women of how we would eat our own, raw flesh torn limb from limb. How we savage hearts would allow our women to lay with wolves to produce offspring half man half wolf and how these desperate creatures were used by us to mortify the souls of neighbouring peoples.
Such tales are nonsensical in construct and meaning. Our great thinkers communed closely with the Wolf King, Haan for we bordered each other’s land and it was in each other’s interest to understand each other’s lives. But as we learned, efforts to understand anothers nature were oft seen by other men as an opportunity to curse our namewith their peoples in the name of greed and ignorance.

We lived on vegetables with animal flesh barely passing our lips – only then when the wolves left us offerings at the beginning and end of the dark season to mark their return to the forests that neighboured our lands. Again this was taken as signs of sorcery and witchcraft from our eventual foes.

For we ever understood their ways. We had no good or evil only what we termed Way (author’s note – the Ghingar term used here is actually Veluxmindacimentorroulatersnttfghping – literally translated as “direction of life within our snowy lands – we consider Way to be an appropriate translation).

 

Way of life, Way of death, Way of things, Way of meaning, Way of loving – we had many Ways.

(Note; there is now a lengthy passage in the Scrolls on agricultural techniques employed by the Ghingar. The main topic is how they managed to grow so many root vegetable in such Northern climes and only having snow and ice to grow them in. Whilst this may be considered an agricultural miracle, it is not considered relevant for gingerfightback’s purposes to include these pages. For an in depth assessment of Ghingar growing techniques the reader may like to obtain a copy of “In Ice and Snow We Made Things Grow – Ghingar farming practices and rituals – by Douglas Sandwell – OUP – 956 Pages and includes pop up lettuce).

 

The Dark Stayed…….

……………………………………………..Why the Sun decreed to stay in that year nobody will ever reason. Why the famine took hold, why the fish left the sea waters and why the reindeer moved deeper into the forest, man will look askance at man and never find an answer.

When Mother Sun departed, we bade her farewell and sought her return with due speed. But she did not return at the known time, leaving us and other men to speak with hoar frost breath.

No plant or animal would grow that season. Haan led his tribe further into the Taiga for sustenance, their howling farewells bidding us safe return to summer warmth. Our left flank was exposed. We huddled in our homes for warmth and boiled snow and ice for miserly sustenance, only our stories and madrigals keeping us from mind loss and starvation.

 

The dark is upon us

But your beauty lights my soul

A bright arc fills mine eyes

You are near to me

That I know

Dance with me

Sing with me

Laugh with me

Lie with me

My love

Be among my dreams

And dart among the stars
As we say “In the darkest times night follows night”, so the wisest of us knew that darkness and the cold in our lands could only mean that other man tribes suffered from similar tribulation.

We lived with our way and they with theirs and this it should stay.

It was, alas not to be.

Part 3 to follow……….

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The Ginger Scrolls – Part 1 (Of Many)

 

Hello!

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.

Here is Part 1!

THE GINGER SCROLLS PART ONE – THE DEPARTURE

Note; The following translation of the Ginger Scrolls is based upon the original work of Professor Tor Legolam, Professor of Nonsense at Bergen University. The Scrolls were discovered in a canister by a man coated in reindeer spittle in October 1927.

A gerbil was also found in this canister.

In all over 1,000 pages was discovered. The Ghingar language employed 34 vowels, 212 consonants and could locate a cedilla over the letter A after it followed GH, at no less than 37 separate angles of elevation.

Gingerfightback’s editorial board has decided to concentrate on the main narrative contained in the Scrolls.

Part 1 is known as “The Departure” and concerns itself with the departure of the final few hundred Ghingars from their beloved homeland and the journey towards their new lands west and south.

 It is impossible to establish with true veracity where the Ghingars finally alighted, but using DNA tests from ginger people in Southern France and examining the contents of mummified Ghingars discovered in Southern France in the late nineteenth century it would be fair to assume that they landed in Southern France.

This is confirmed in Part 3 of the Scrolls entitled “We Landed in Southern France”. A few landed in bonny Scotland due to the accelerated melting of their lard hair boats.

Professor Legolam’s favoured textual translation method is based upon the Albensian system of translation of the ancient texts, perfected by Cardinal Pietro Albensian in the late13th century.

The basic metronomic approach to translation in this manner can be found in the “Digitales Summa Orbis” written by Albensian and his brother Ted the Knife in 1287.

 Recent studies of the Albensian techniques point to the fact that the Cardinal, or Ted the Knife were probably dyslexic and so given all this carry on what you are about to read is probably not very accurate at all and hardly worth the effort. Still now that you have read this far you may as well carry on for a bit and find out a little of the history of ginger folk.

Enjoy!

** Poetry was an intrinsic element of the Ghingar culture as they found expressing themselves in verse to be a far more effective way of communicating in the perishing cold. The poems recited in the Scrolls are an attempt by the author to reflect the mood, tenor and verve of the times. For further reading we would suggest the following;

Notes on Ginghar Poetry and Polemics – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (445 pages with some nice join the dots pictures for when you get bored and also a cut out and keep Ludo set)

The Ghingars –Battling the Cedilla – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (657 Pages with a cut out and keep ice berg and waterfall)

More Ghingars – Please Somebody Buy It! – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (1,234 Pages with a built in sleeping bag and feathery pillow).

The Ginger Scrolls Part of Part One – The Departure

Of my name there is no cause for you to know. I am nameless but not silent. For these tales must be set down, their words appropriated from the mouths of others and our tragedy told. These words will not be tethered to this script dear friend. No! They are freeborn and will fly around this earth and the great bright skies in the North will act as permanent testimony of our suffering yet passion for life untrammeled by that suffering.

Carried by the beating wings of the great Gull, Exeretheon, the Night Flyer our tales will be told and recalled for all time.

Words of passion, wisdom, hope and of love for our homeland and of our people. Words can be the heartbeat between two lovers, the blood that flows between kin or the bile that proposes enmity between men.

We, the Ghingar always value words as tools of joy and hope. We would use them to sing, tell tales and even dance amongst them on our nights of festivals, before the Sun departed us for the other realms of the great heavens where she bade other people light and sustenance.

Our words to her, warm to the touch and comforting to the feel, bade her speedy return but offered her safe passage to her new home and the peoples who would bathe in her rays and affection.

The Ghingar people. Taken from our homelands by those evil pillars of famine and fear that forced us to roam amongst mortal man and his surly ways to ensure our kin hath future enough. We shall return to our home when the stars in the heavens bid it so.

The stars are not hung in the sky by your Gods or our Gods for amusement. They are there to guide, to inspire and to allow us to dream of other worlds.

But truth, dear friend we know not when that glorious day beckons us North once more and to the comfort of the shores and the ice that we called our Home. We people are from far North, distant from your own tribulations and vapours. A world so barren and untouched by the guilt and pleasures of other men that it will remain lost to all until we return.

Hard as life was and as dark as it was, those lands, icy, cold, fearful of strangers and a little bit weird – (translation note; the original Ghingar word here is Maleanstoricbmisltistr – which literally translates as “those who do not always allow the ice to melt before they drink it” – we think that weird is a close enough approximation of that term.) – But they were our lands. Our home.

Malady for loss is something all Ghingars carry. We grieve.

For so long isolated from other groups we had learned to live in peace with each other.

A land of hope, benign gods, tuneful music and a world of smiles. That is why the outsiders gave them the name Ghingar, from the ancient Arctic Empire tongue of our kings meaning “Those who smile”.

But we are not a people to dwell in the past. Indeed our land was governed by only three laws. Not to kill. To always seek shelter from the sun. Never revisit the past with sad intention.

Only the dead were entitled to declare war upon another nation and only those given sanctuarial position were allowed to venture past the great Buttock of Truth, erected before memory began it is said, to protect our people from those with barbarous intent. No God we worshipped only the Sun, fearing its long absences in the cold winter months would hasten our demise,

“Hasten to me morning Sun

That I may bask in thy balmy rays

Hasten to me morning Sun

That I may enjoy the best of days

 

Do not leave so soon morning Sun

That I will have to endure

Darkness and the stalk of night

And deaths tainted allure”

 

Ours was a simple world, made good by kindness, potatoes and a lack of foot disorders.

Part 2 to follow……….

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The Ginger Scrolls – The History of Gingers

Ginger history is shrouded in mystery.

In the academic world argument has raged over the “Ginger Origin” question for 150 years.

There is the Derby School who cling with limpet like passion to the idea that Gingers originated in the Derbyshire Peaks, based upon the digs of the archeologist Maurice Picker in the late 19 Century.

Picker uncovered a large Stone Age encampment on the outskirts of Matlock and observed “…the overriding sense of gingeriness within the place. I for one become covered head to toe in freckles!”

Although he was barking,  Picker’s theory became established orthodoxy amongst gingerologists. His theories were only challenged in 1934 when in the Guadalajara peninsula ancient Inca papers, now known as the Popomatic Texts, were unearthed.

Translated by Herbert Sctonlicker in 1935, these papers suggest that the origin of “Ein redheadshers” actually lay in the isthmus of Central America, just north of the Panama Canal. They suggested to Sctonlicker that, “ein incidencen de ein gingermenschen eist ova da strasse from der bierkeller os Bob.”

Whilst it may seem strange that a pub run a man named Bob in Panama could in anyway have something to do with the origins of Gingers there does seem to be some veracity in Sctonlicker views.

This is because the “Bob” mentioned in the translation is non other than Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist.

Hamstrangler had two passions in his life. Cross Country skiing and blowing up hot water bottles to prove his lung function.

In his native town of Narvik, hot water bottle blowing (or Huffty Puffty in Norwegian) remains popular to this day and a male suitor displays his worthiness to a potential mate by bursting a hot water bottle and reciting a passage from Ibsen’s Enemy of the People.

In October 1907 Hamstrangler was skiing on the outskirts of Narvik with his fiancé Marta, a heavy limbed girl from proud fishing stock and was attempting to burst his mother’s quilted bottle on the move (known as Ruffty Huffty Puffty) a dangerous manouvre at the best of times.

As he struggled with his task, Hamstrangler noticed among the rocky outcrops a small cave. He approached the opening, laid down his hot water bottle and peered inside.

The gap was no larger than 8 inches, yet inside the chamber Hamstrangler could see an aged canister. The barren landscape provided neither twig or branch to prise the canister toward him.

They say fortune is a bedfellow of grace. Despite his inability to grasp the canister, his years of hot water bottle bursting gave him the ability to suck the canister from the cave and land it with puckered force on his lips.

Inside the canister were shredded and blood splattered papers. They were in a language that neither Hamstrangler or Marta (now certain to marry the golden lunged Titan) could decipher.

The local minister Per Tart could not help, so Hamstrangler took the canister to nearby Bergen University.

Professor Tor Legolam, the University’s professor of Nonsense, recognized the texts as a cross between ancient Norse and the language of the Inca’s.

Legolam a keen friend of the Starling and campaigner against Huffty Puffty, was so shocked by what he discovered, he ordered the canister sealed and placed in Bergen University’s “Vaults of Nonsense” (or Valhalla Bollox in Norwegian).

These papers became known as the Ginger Scrolls.

Gingerfightback has been granted access to the Scrolls so that our readers (yes all 3 of you) can become aware of the true history of Gingers.

Over the next 12 years we will reveal them……….in full………

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