The Bong Remains the Same (Part 2: Bringer of the Rumble)

…continued from Part 1

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We rode on for an hour or so. I was somewhat surprised that Sir John had managed to stay on his horse, given that he had been imbibing continuously since I had met him the previous evening.

“Rover, where are we going” I asked.

“We are going to Sidcup forest to find John-Paul the minstrel” he replied “for every noble expedition requires both bottom end and mellotron”.

We found him under the shade of a willow tree, plucking a mandolin, singing “hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy ma-a-an“. Unlike Sir John, he was quiet and unassuming. In fact, he never spoke a word for the duration of the crusade. But while he could hardly have been more different from Sir John, when the two of them got together, they seemed to each grow in power, creating a thunderous rumble that shook the ground and scared animals from their homes.

That first night, we sat around a roaring fire and ate a warthog that Sir John had killed with his bare hands. John-Paul entertained us with his mandolin while we drank from Sir John’s seemingly bottomless barrel of mead. We danced in the dark of night, and sang until the morning light. And when finally our heads touched the pillow, the Rover said “may your sleep give you strength noble lads and may your stairway lie on the whispering wind”

I fell into a fitful sleep, only to be woken by an unseasonably frigid wind. I didn’t believe my own eyes, for it was late summer and the ground was being covered with snow. The Rover cried “See, it has begun !! The winds of Thor are blowing cold !!! On your horses brave men, the snow drives back the foot that’s slow”.

Sir John rose and warmed himself with a long drink of mead which he took straight from the barrel. He mounted his horse with a look of steely fire in his eyes “Onward men, these dark forces will grant no quarter, nor shall any be asked !!!”

All that cold, dark night we rode, walking side by side with death, the devil mocking our every step.

to be continued…..