Walhall of a Mess – Sieg3d, The Final Insult

Previously on Walhall of a Mess :-

Walhall of a Mess

Walhall of a Mess – Part Dieu


So I went for a walk.

Not your average Sunday afternoon stroll, mind you, but a proper walk. Real Forrest Gump-style stuff. Not exactly sure how long I’ve been gone, but I reckon it must be a good couple of decades.

I was pissed at Brünnhilde. All because of her stubborn streak I lost my most-beloved son. Of all my offspring it had to be my favourite daughter who threw a spanner in the works! Broke my heart, she did. I was so furious I thought I might do something terrible – kill her, torture her, make her gluten intolerant.

But, at the end of the day, I just couldn’t do it. So I put her to sleep on a fiery mountaintop and buggered off.

It was all too much for me. It wasn’t just Brünny. I was also fed up with her horsey sisters, with the fish-wives, with Mrs-Frosty-Fanny-Fricka and the rest of the Swiss Family Interesting, with the giants, with the dwarves, the Ring, the curse, the whole bloody mess!

I needed a break. A pint. A cigar. Time to think.

Twice now I had tried to break that little git Alberich’s curse.

Plan A – the Awesome-Dead-Guy Army – was a dud. Complete washout. Instead of a ferocious, indefatigable army of heroes ready to slaughter all before them at my merest whim, all I got was a castle full of shit-faced, incoherent Celts, belching out rude songs in incomprehensible gibberish, whilst emptying my cellars and pissing on the tapestries. Useless.

Plan B – the Wälsungs, Siegmund and Sieglinde, my kinky, sex-obsessed offspring – was another catastrophe. Basically, Fricka kept banging on about incest being wrong (yeah, right), and how I had to let my hero-son die because of some gobbledegook about runes and treaties. I told Brünny to take care of it, but she defied me, hence my mood. In the end I had to step in myself and shatter Nothung, the magic sword I’d made for Siggy, which allowed him to be killed. Disaster.

Where to go from here?

After a bit of time to clear my headspace – my thinking had become very uptight – an idea struck me – “There is another Wälsung…”

Before I was able to stop her, Brünny had whisked Sieglinde away from me. Turns out the gal was pregnant with Siggy’s kid. Now, it occurred to me, the wife’s objections to my meddling notwithstanding, that my original Wälsung plan was actually pretty sound. If I could just lay my hands on another hero – say, the inbred lovechild of my own earthly children – it would simply need a few tweaks here and there. This time, if it was to work, there could be absolutely no way that Fricka could ever catch me out again. I’d have to be very hands-off in my approach. The kid could never know me until he won the Ring, or I’d be right back to square one.

So where was Sieglinde? Turns out Alberich’s numpty, half-wit brother Mime stumbled across her in a forest, in mid-labour. (Smart girl. She knew I’d be checking all the hospitals.) He took her in, but she died after giving birth, leaving the kid and the shattered pieces of Nothung in Mime’s greedy, grubby little mitts. What a surprise.

What does she call the kid? SiegFRIED. I know, right? These stupid names give me a migraine. I mean, I loved the girl. She was my daughter, after all. But why couldn’t she just have picked a normal name? What the hell’s so wrong with “Ben”?

Anyway, I keep my eye on things. Years go by. Mime hatches a plan to reforge the sword, and use it to kill Fafner (who’s gone all Game of Thrones and turned himself into a dragon), thereby winning the Rheingold and his brother’s accursed ring.

Siggy Jnr grows up to be a strapping lad, with an amusingly abusive line in adolescent attitude towards the dwarf. This kid is one tough cookie. Fearless. Real chip-off-the-old-block. He keeps pestering Mime to fix the sword, but the cack-handed worm can’t do it. This is amusing for a while, but after a several years of endless re-runs my patience has worn thin. I decide to give the dwarf a kick up the arse while Junior is out hunting.

Careful not to break any rules about influencing the boy, I let Mime ask me three questions. All he needs to know is that Junior is the only one who can fix the sword, but does he ask about that? No, of course not. After much to-ing and fro-ing I spell it out as much as I can – “Only he who knows no fear can reforge Nothung.”

Well, after that little prod, things come along quite nicely. Quick as a flash, the sword is fixed by Junior, and Mime and he head off to slay the dragon. I decide to sneak ahead and make sure the way is clear.

Alberich has a penchant for sniffing around Fafner’s cave, so to speak. He still thinks I want the Ring, but he doesn’t realise that it’s Junior who is destined to possess it. I tell him of Mime’s plans. I even encourage him to warn Fafner that he’s in danger. I clear out in good to time to spy on proceedings from afar. Long story short, Junior dispatches Fafner and Mime, and a little bird tells him where to find Brünny. He takes the Ring and the Tarnhelm and off he trots.

So far, so splendid. Finally, a plan of mine has reached fruition without being shat upon by hectoring women.

It’s almost time to finally meet the lad in person, but before that I decide to check in with my hippy-baby-momma Erda, just to make sure I’ve dotted all the “i”s and crossed all the “t”s. Total waste of time. Completely off her tits. Too many years and too many drugs have taken their toll, I’m afraid. Best let her sleep it off.

So now you’re up to date. I’m sitting here at the bottom of Brünny’s mountain waiting on my grandson, the fearless hero, to arrive. He’ll sail straight through that magic fire and awaken her, and she will redeem the world, finally freeing us all from Alberich’s miserable curse. We Gods will slowly fade from memory and mankind will preside over the fate of the world.

Good luck to them. It’s not easy, I can tell you. Look at the hoops I’ve had to jump through just to get us here.

Still, I can’t wait to finally meet my boy. I want to embrace him. I want to tell him how all this came to be. I know he’ll appreciate all that his loving old papa has sacrificed for him.




That’s it! I’m done!

Screw the lot of you!

I’m outta here!

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