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Alvin walks down the village path carrying his glowing light saber, surrounded by Sten and his three cronies aiming spears and swords at him. They reach a clearing in the middle of the village. Men, women and children are gathered around a tall crackling bonfire. Gorm is standing closest to the fire, leaning on his staff.
Alvin and his captors stop in front of Gorm. Alvin scans the crowd and picks out Solveig, Oskar and Erik. There's a growing murmur in the crowd at the sight of Alvin and his burning sword. Gorm lifts his hand and the crowd hushes.
> Gorm: My fellow clansmen. This is a cruel day indeed. First we lost our revered Jarl. And now I'm afraid I have even darker tidings. I have appealed to the Fates, and they have Spoken to me.
Gorm gestures dramatically with his staff.
> Gorm: It pains me to be the bearer of such calamitous news. However, when one has been given a gift such as mine, one may not hoard it for oneself, like so many silver coins. One must share it, like a delicious feast. Though of course, in some cases, as in this one, it is more like a bitter poison than a hearty draught of ale. Some are given the gift of Sight, while others, like myself, are given the gift of Hearing --
>
> Sten: Get on with it, old man.
>
> Gorm: What's that? Speak up.
Sten yells in Gorm's ear.
> Sten: Something about a pickle?
The crowd rustles in confusion.
> Alvin: Uh, before you go on, can I just say, I'm really sorry, and I never meant to --
>
> Gorm: O, bitter day! People of Bestheim, there can be only one conclusion. There are too many signs, too many omens for it to be otherwise. The seas have been rising for some time now. Our lore tells us that one day the dome of the sky shall split, and from the crack shall emerge the fire giants of Muspelheim. With my own eyes I saw the sky break apart last night, and a monstrous, silver wolf leapt out of the crack!
The crowd gasps.
> Alvin: That was no wolf! That was a --
>
> Gorm: The wolf attacked the World Snake and broke apart the sacred ring that protects us. The Snake released its tail from its mouth!
The villagers shriek and reel in horror.
> Gorm: This morning we went down to the beach and there he was -- the charred giant, come from the south as our lore foretells. He emerged from the sea, wielding his flaming sword, and struck down our Jarl with a single touch. And finally, the Norns told me the stranger will beget, not a dragon's rock, but --
Sten speaks in a horrified whisper.
> Sten: Ragnarok.
>
> Gorm: -- Ragnarok! There can be no doubt. The stranger is none other than the fire demon Surtur, here to bring about the end of days!
>
> Alvin: Wait! Wait a minute! I'm not --
But Alvin's words are drowned out by the roaring crowd.
> Gorm: We cannot kill him. He who tries will be struck down dead, as Ulf was. There is nothing for us but to say goodbye to our loved ones while there is still breath in our bodies.
The villagers fall into each other's arms. Gorm gazes with satisfaction at his weeping clansmen.
> Gorm: Well, then! My message is Heard.
Sten shouts out to the roaring crowd.
> Sten: We may not succeed in killing Surtur, but we can fight to the death trying, and be received in Valhalla as great warriors.
Sten lifts his sword, aiming at Alvin's chest.
Alvin raises his light saber to the sky and waves it frantically. It buzzes angrily.
> Alvin: Stop! Everybody calm down and listen to me!
The Vikings are shocked into silence.
> Alvin: I am NOT...
Alvin is breathing hard. He looks around at the Vikings. His gaze returns to rest on Sten, whose sword is still poised to plunge into Alvin's heart.
Alvin grips his light saber firmly in both hands. He blinks.
> Alvin: I am definitely Surtur, and believe me, you don't want to mess with me. If you even try, you'll...uh...get to meet all the fire demons of Muspelheim, just ready to...Ragnarok-and-roll.
Alvin turns to face Sten and lowers his light saber.
> Alvin: Sten, I'm very, very sorry I killed your father. And everybody, I'm real sorry I killed your Jarl. I didn't mean to. I really just tapped him and...that's what happens if you touch my magic sword.
Alvin turns to face Gorm.
> Alvin: Gorm the Wise, Gorm the Hearer. Hear me now. I don't want to bring about the end of days.
Gorm considers this for a moment, frowning.
> Gorm: Even if I were to believe you, it is Fated. You cannot escape Fate.
>
> Alvin: Right, right. But you can maybe delay fate. I don't want to kill any of you. If I did, you'd all be dead already. See, if the world ends, I die too, and I'd rather live.
>
> Gorm: Then why did you leave Muspelheim in the first place?
>
> Alvin: Why did I...I'll tell you why. I'll tell you exactly why. It was...too hot. I like the climate here in Midgard. Keeps me from bursting into flames.
The Vikings digest this and nod.
> Alvin: So can we make a deal? If you promise not to try and kill me -- 'cause believe me, it wouldn't end well for you -- I also promise not to kill anybody. Else.
The crowd rustles. Sten eyes Alvin malevolently.
> Gorm: Surtur, O Sizzling One. We must consider. We must discuss this in private. Would you mind waiting over there by the goat pen?
§
The Vikings are in a huddle, speaking in low voices.
Alvin is standing by a goat pen, thirty yards away from the bonfire.
> Alvin: Jeez, this dream is exhausting. What's a guy in a coma gotta do to get a little rest?
Alvin bangs his head on the wooden fence of the goat pen.
> Alvin: Wake up, dude. Wake up!
Oskar sidles up and silently beckons to Alvin. Alvin follows him back to the bonfire, where the Vikings are waiting. Sten looks even more incensed than before.
> Gorm: Surtur the Scorcher. We have reached a decision. As a collective and fiery death is most likely the alternative, we agree to your terms. Also, with you as our Jarl, we will be invincible against other clans.
>
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>
> Alvin: Me...me as your Jarl? Me, as in I?
>
> Gorm: It is Fated. He who kills the Jarl becomes the new Jarl. And since you cannot be killed -- well, then!
Sten stabs his sword viciously into the ground. Alvin gulps.
> Alvin: Right. I can't be killed. That's the thing to remember. Now about this job. Does it mean I get to tell everybody what to do?
>
> Gorm: That is the general idea.
Alvin cocks his head and considers.
> Alvin: I can live with that. Why not? I accept. I need to pass the time somehow, till I wake up.
Alvin murmurs the last remark; Gorm doesn't hear it.
> Gorm: It is settled. Tomorrow your first day of Jarldom shall dawn.
>
> Sten: Impossible!
Everyone looks at Sten.
> Sten: You must be a man to be Jarl!
>
> Alvin: Luckily I happen to be one.
>
> Sten: I don't know what you are, but you're not a Viking man. You haven't performed the Nine Tasks of Manhood.
>
> Gorm: A mere formality.
>
> Alvin: Uh, can you tell me a little bit about these tasks?
>
> Gorm: Oh, they are nothing more than you would expect. Hunting, farming, horse riding and so on. You receive tokens for the tasks you complete.
>
> Alvin: Like merit badges?
>
> Gorm: Hairy badgers? I don't quite --
>
> Alvin: Merit badges! Back home, they give them to boy s...demons. I have tons of them.
>
> Gorm: Merit badges. Indeed. So, mighty Surtur, do you vow to perform the Nine Tasks, in order to become a man, a Viking, and a fully qualified Jarl?
>
> Alvin: Why not? I love merit badges.
>
> Gorm: Excellent! You will have no trouble, for the most part. One task may perhaps be more of a challenge than the others.
>
> Alvin: What's that?
>
> Gorm: You must marry.
>
> Alvin: Marry. A woman?
>
> Gorm: Yes. I'm afraid it must be a woman. Giants, elves and trolls will not be acceptable. Well, then! Shall we say...nine months for Surtur to complete the Tasks?
>
> Sten: Too long. I say nine days.
>
> Alvin: Nine days!
Sten sneers.
> Sten: Surely it will be child's play for such a powerful demon.
>
> Gorm: How is he to grow a crop in nine days? Let us agree on nine weeks.
>
> Sten: And if he fails?
>
> Alvin: Then I'll step down and let the real men have a crack at the Jarldom.
>
> Gorm: I'm sure it will not come to that. Now, as you are after all a newcomer, you will need some advisors.
>
> Alvin: Oh, I'm pretty sure I can --
>
> Gorm: I myself will advise you on all rites and rituals, and of course, messages from the gods and fates.
>
> Alvin: Okay, cool.
>
> Gorm: And for your second advisor, there can be no better than Sten, who would have been Jarl after Ulf, but for recent events.
>
> Alvin: Oh, shit! I mean, I didn't realize --
>
> Gorm: He is our fiercest warrior, and can advise you on matters of battle.
>
> Alvin: I don't think that'll be necessary. Plus I'm sure Sten has better things to do.
>
> Sten: What could be better than assisting my father's murderer?
>
> Gorm: And finally I think...yes, Erik. Utterly useless on the battlefield, but our best farmer.
Erik advances from the back of the crowd to stand by Gorm. Up close, he's even hotter than before.
> Alvin: Oh my god!
Erik looks at Alvin in surprise.
> Alvin: I mean, thank the gods! I couldn't keep a single plant alive back in Muspelheim.
>
> Erik: That'll be the heat. Or over-watering.
>
> Gorm: And that completes the group.
>
> Alvin: Actually, how about adding one of the women?
>
> Gorm: What? Did you say 'chickens' or 'pigeons'?
>
> Alvin: I said women.
>
> Gorm: A woman advisor?
>
> Alvin: Yes.
>
> Sten: Ridiculous!
>
> Gorm: What for?
>
> Alvin: Well, so that women's voices can be heard too. After all, half of you are women.
>
> Gorm: Yes, but women aren't...they don't...they can't...besides, a woman would be terrified to even stand next to you.
Solveig pushes her way through the crowd.
> Solveig: I'll do it!
>
> Alvin: Cool! Now there's just one last thing. I don't want to be called "Surtur." I never liked that name. I'd like you to call me Alvin.
>
> Sten: Ridiculous!
>
> Alvin: Oh, yeah? Why's that?
>
> Sten: You want to be a Viking man, but you would remind people day and night that you're a "friend of the elves"?
>
> Alvin: Oh. You've got a point.
Alvin considers.
> Alvin: You can call me Al.
§
Alvin is sleeping in the Jarl's house, on a wooden platform piled high with furs. The house is luxurious by Viking standards -- twice as big as other village houses, with four shuttered windows, a large fire pit, and a long wooden table with benches on either side.
The door opens. Solveig and Oskar are standing outside. Oskar is holding a wooden tray with a large bowl of porridge, smaller bowls, spoons and a pitcher of milk. His face is smudged with dirt, and he looks fearful. Solveig pats him on the back.
> Solveig: Go on.
Oskar enters the house, dishes rattling precariously. Solveig snatches up the pitcher before it can spill. They advance into the room. Oskar sets the tray on the table and starts arranging the food and dishes.
Solveig puts the pitcher on the table and walks over to Alvin. He sits up and stretches.
> Solveig: Good morning. Is the Jarl's home to your liking?
>
> Alvin: Sure beats the stable. What's the little guy doing here?
>
> Solveig: Oskar was Ulf's slave. These are his regular morning duties.
>
> Alvin: Slave! But he's a kid. How old is he -- ten?
>
> Solveig: Twelve. I remember when he was taken, four years ago. I never thought I'd suffer the same fate.
>
> Alvin: He was captured when he was eight?
>
> Solveig: Yes. The enmity between the South Shore clan and my clan, the Redhairs, has lasted for generations. Hardly a year season goes by without one attacking the other.
>
> Alvin: Solveig, are you a slave too?
Solveig looks distressed.
> Alvin: I'm sorry, that was...
>
> Solveig: A fair question. I'm a captive, but not a slave. Only because Sten declared I shouldn't be.
>
> Alvin: How come?
Solveig scoffs.
> Solveig: I suppose he thought I'd be flattered. He wants to marry me.
>
> Alvin: Oh. You know, he seems like a really great guy, really uh...firm-minded, but I wonder if you can't do better.
>
> Solveig: I would sooner die than marry him. Before that day comes, I will walk out into the ocean until it fills my lungs. Or run a sword through his guts, as he did to my brother, and no doubt be stoned to death for my trouble.
The door opens and Sten, Gorm and Erik enter the room.
Oskar sees Sten and scurries away from the table. He starts building up the fire, using logs piled against the wall.
Alvin gets out of bed. He's wearing a leather Viking shirt over his jeans.
> Alvin: Good morning, Sten, Gorm, Erik.
>
> Gorm: Good morning, Jarl Al.
Alvin gestures at the table and the adults sit around it.
Oskar scuttles over and ladles porridge into small bowls. He stands as far away from Sten as possible, stretching out his arm. He slops some steaming porridge onto Sten's hand.
Sten clouts Oskar on the back of his head.
> Sten: Fool!
>
> Solveig: It was an accident!
Solveig glares at Sten. He glares back, then looks at Oskar.
> Sten: Be more careful. And take a bath, boy, or I'll wash the stink off you with boiling oil.
>
> Alvin: Maybe Oskar is hungry? Oskar, would you like to join --
Solveig catches Alvin's eye and shakes her head sharply.
> Solveig: He's eaten.
>
> Alvin: Oh. All right.
Oskar peers at Alvin from under his lashes. He finishes serving and retreats to a corner. The adults eat in silence for a while.
> Alvin: So, uh, thanks for coming, everyone. I know I wasn't your first pick for Jarl, but I do have a couple of ideas I really think you'll thank me for. For instance, how about paving the paths with stones or boards? Aren't you tired of slogging through the mud? And then, the goat pens really shouldn't be so close to the houses. It's so unsanitary --
Sten is sneering and shaking his head.
> Sten: Unbelievable.
>
> Alvin: Sten, did you wanna say something?
>
> Sten: You sleep in my father's house while he lies cold, dead and unconsecrated, and your first thought is of mud? And goats?
>
> Alvin: I'm sorry. You're right. I guess we're gonna need some kind of funeral?
Solveig quickly interjects.
> Solveig: I can arrange the feast.
>
> Sten: See that you do. A feast to put Valhalla's board to shame. I will build the ceremonial vessel.
>
> Erik: I can help you with that.
>
> Sten: You? I don't trust you with an axe.
>
> Erik: I do just fine with wood, Sten. I admit, I don't have your skill in carving up human flesh.
>
> Gorm: And I shall conduct the ceremony.
>
> Alvin: Cool. So, uh, nothing for me to do?
Sten gives Alvin a "You really wanna go there?" look.
Alvin busies himself with his porridge.
§
The people of Bestheim are gathered on a hilltop near the village, standing around a funeral pyre. Ulf's body rests in a ceremonial longboat, surrounded by pine boughs, weapons, jewelry and utensils.
Gorm, Alvin, Sten and Solveig are clustered together. Gorm holds his staff in one hand and a burning torch in the other.
> Gorm: Jarl Ulf, we gather to honor your life and send you on your next journey. We thank you for your valiant leadership, and pray you will remember us kindly when you look down from Valhalla, and ask Odin the All-Father to protect us.
Gorm sets fire to the pyre and places the torch in a sconce.
Gorm beckons to someone in the distance. Two men walk over, dragging Oskar with them. Oskar's head is lolling to one side. Alvin and Solveig are alarmed.
> Alvin: What's wrong with him?
>
> Gorm: We gave him two horns of ale.
>
> Alvin: What the...why?
>
> Gorm: It's kinder. For the sacrifice. He will feel the sword less this way.
>
> Solveig: No!
>
> Alvin: Sacrifice? You don't mean --
>
> Gorm: Yes. Oskar will go on to serve Ulf in the next life.