Behind Olav stood Bob, putting his bony hand on Olav's shoulder. Comforting the big crying bulk of a man who had vomited everything except his lungs. "You need a good sleep. Come on, let's get you upstairs." He dragged him upstairs, lay him in bed and tucked him in.
Mead and pork flew about in the giant oaken hall of Hörsebehne. A deer head ridden with guts on its antlers hung above the entrance. Shouting, dancing and laughter went hand in hand and there was a big feast. A huge stretching table was set in the middle of the hall, at the end of it stood an old jolly man and on his head a golden crown shaped like icicles. Around him many robed men of great height and braided blonde hair.
"Olav!" The ancient man shouted. "Praise Olav the noblest warrior of the realm. He who stood at the helm of many brave men at the gates of Vïndöbördä and took the grand city. Praise Olav, praise Olav the Destroyer!”
He rose his skull cup and nodded firmly at Olav, who was sitting on a big oaken chair adorned with complex ornaments and covered with bear skins. Olav grabbed his big axe from beside the chair and stood up.
“My brothers. In battle, when my eyes are in contact with the man I will slay a moment later, when I am face to face with the filth I am about to sweep away I feel rage and disappointment, disappointment at these weaklings who bow before my mighty axe. But when I am with you again in this great hall after yet another glorious victory I feel amongst family and all the bloodshed has a purpose again.”
He pointed at a big coarse man in the back of the hall whose face was resting in between a pair of large breasts.
“Approach Block! Son of Vodnar”
Olav smiled at the crowd but the man did not respond.
“Block get your arse over here before I have to drag you by your beard!”
“All right, all right, hold your cock steady, I'm coming.” Block grunted back. He wiped his face clean with his beard and came storming through the crowd towards Olav who was smiling and had his arms open to embrace the oncoming bulk. Block managed to bash over some tables and chairs in the process before grabbing Olav and lifting him up towards the high ceiling. The crowd gasped, only the gods could ever have lifted Olav, and only even once when the mightiest storm Hörsebehne ever witnessed had struck that winter. “Make this man a king!” Block was shouting drunkenly. Olav managed a good bash into Block's side with his foot and got back to trusted ground again. Olav whispered to Block,
“I was going to give you some credit for the battle earlier on, but I'm certain that's gonna get me locked away now.”
Block regained composure, and stood there firm and noble. A fine act, he should be on stage instead of bashing heads in, Olav thought. Then he looked around at the crowd below and the elevated position he and Block were in. Never mind.
“I support Block for the position of King's champion! He has served me well for these many years, he deserves a place amongst the honored. Who says aye?”
“Aye!” came in unison from the crowd.
Olav gave Block a pat on the back who was standing amazed and had drool dropping from the side of his mouth.
“Feast now! And remember our victory!”
The crowd returned to chaos and the mead flew through the hall yet again.