Act I, Scene II
This is the Icelandic wild. It's a lot bigger than you'd think...but still just as isolated from the rest of the Reich. Up here, there are many mountains. And they were all made, once, by great fiery floods from beneath the ground.
Atop a peak, a shadow looms. Gradually, it separates. Atop the peak, the four German monks of the Chor stand. They're here to commence the next aria. Or rather, they're here to harbinge for it. To do that, they'll start out by singing this first part a Capella.
They sing a chanted intro, to tune their voices. Once they feel n'sync, they begin singing a very low-tempo version of Steve Wariner's "Midnight Fire."
Late Night Katydid
SO full of shit
Buzzing hard, like the swarm that won't shut up
Once that swarm is buzzing loud
There's no running from the shroud
Of a Late Night Katydid
Now, three of them chant in three-part harmony. The lower tenor sings the only verse. Or rather, it's the only verse that'll be sung in this scene.
The woodpecker's got us in a vex now
We gotta sleep, but we're staying awake, somehow
A victim of someone else's noise
And so much division between the impulse
To play clay pigeon with the swarm
Or to just go to the loo, and convulse...
Now, they unite, and sing in four-part harmony, for the last chorus:
Late Night Katydid
She is SUCH a bitch
Making a rash all over the still of the night
Once that fever's getting hot
There's no freedom from the snot
Of the Late Night Katydid...
O, once the hive gets to hivin'
There's a long row of strivin'
Regarding the Late Night...
KATYDID...
Now, the moon rises. The Chor now stands near a railroad track. They're now armed with band instruments, and dressed in black. Softly, they play the intro to the Eli Young Band's "Guinevere." But of course, the lyrics will be different.
Across the great ashy plains of Iceland, a girl crosses. She's all alone. She is, more or less, the victim of the "Late Night Katydid" the intro concerned. She can't sleep. And as foolish as it seems, THIS is how she'll deal with it. If only her mother knew where she was... Good thing her mother isn't Laura Lyons...
As she crosses the plains and navigates the creepy-looking badlands, the Chor performs a longer number. Once again, the Uri Swiss low tenor sings the lead. If the others don't chant, they perform on instruments.
She's got walls like a tapestry that name all nine realms of Yggdrasil
She's got a chest full of lutes, which she procures when she needs to chill
She's a Walpurgis Nacht beacon in the woods
That all eyes come to behold
O, what gold!
She's got a purse full of memories; some of them aren't even hers to recite
Some of them push up lichens, but for her, it's worth keeping if she likes
For her, forgetfulness is nothing but a petrified troll
On the fringes of her soul
Never more to troll...
For as much as she counts, she imagines
For as much as she adds, she's still nowhere
Always seeking some fine mead stiffer than Valhalla
To make the runes of dark magic not-a-thing
Just like Ellie Goulding
At this point in the aria, Elle Gold, the blonde chick from before, starts dancing her way through the badlands. Unclear as to in what kind of mood she's in...but it seems stable enough. She's in bare feet, and a silken white dress. Her hair is long and flowing...rather like an ideal Ellie Goulding 1999.
Even so...and especially so, too...the Chor continues:
She holds on to no ball-and-chain for very long
She etches you in one simple rune, and then you're gone
She once fell on her bum because he relieved her guard
And no one ever gets very far
Still, for her, guys are hard
For as much as they monitor, she slithers
For as much as they weigh, she weighs none
Always hoping to find some world more serene than Sessrumnir
And write the worst of her days off as a fat rat fink
Just like Ellie Goulding
Ja, just like Ellie Goulding...
At this point in the song, Elle stops dancing...as she's come to a dead-end in the badlands canyon she's in. Here, the wall towers high over her. And there's a very big cave mouth, opening into it. This might not be her destiny...but it's certainly a stepping stone towards it.
For as much as she baby-steps, she's hovering
For as much as she's sober, she's still drunk
Now, Elle strikes a pair of sticks together, and charges up the hill, towards the cave opening. The ends of each stick, that she holds, emit sparks, as well as smoke...
For as much as she spelunks, she's lost in space
For as much as she stops, she's still going
Now up here to find someone to be a memory for HIS purse
Or otherwise, to become just a rusty coin bereft of bling
Less like Ellie Goulding
But until then, more like Ellie Goulding
O, do walk a line, Ellie Goulding...
Just not one of the bad ones, Ellie Goulding...
Now, the Chor chants the aria's closing. Once they've chanted their last, they collect the band instruments, and give this scene the slip. It's bound to get creepy, from here...
Holding a torch high, Elle proceeds into the deep dark cave. It's unexpectedly easy to travel. The stalactites are a bit intimidating... But then, this is an Icelandic cave, alright.
Every now and then, the ground rumbles. Again, this is an Icelandic cave. Don't get excited, though; there won't be any lava-flooding cave-ins in this scene.
As she nears the most sacred spot of the cave, lights begin to glow. Soon, they're lit. Across this flat floor, there are tables. Much ballet space separates them. On each table, there are many candles. And as you might expect, they're the ones causing the light.
In the midst of the great onyx-tile floor, there's a piano. At it, the accompanist, Ms. Bickleiter, sits. As the candles light, she plays the intro to the Avett Brothers' "I and Love and You." It's an intro to the next aria...which Elle will sing, and occasionally dance, to.
For now, she stands in the center of an open onyx-tile floor. Both near and far from her, the candles burn. They only don't suffocate her because this cave seems to have chimneys to ferry the candles' smoke out.
I've brought my soul, and I've left a rune
I've worn a white dress, and I've brought a tune
To my rise, or to my doom
I can't carry on, until I do this
Ever since her debut, she's been fidgeting a lot. This is spooky; she was once as dreaming and serene as a mermaid.
One hand to shake, and another to hold
Am I doomed to do this until I'm old?
I'd rather be a stone out in the cold
To my old life, I will NOT return
Now, she dances. Her skirt isn't long, but it's loose. It opens like an umbrella, each time she spins. Above it, her hair does something similar.
O, Borson, Borson, take me in
Are you are the tar pit I'm in?
My body? It shakes! My bush? It itches!
O, Borson, Borson, take me in!
She keeps dancing, but takes it slow. In another part of the cave, Ms. Strom, a blonde nerd who looks a lot like Ms. Bickleiter, keeps shaking, yet steady, hands on a viola she plays.
When, at first, I learned to sing
I used my boobs and by thighs to flirt
But now with him and her, and them and me
But the anxiety just jams my heart
Yes, it only jams my heart
Those boys, they've all got blues that shine
Like a plundered chest of royal sapphire
They ask to dance, I say its fine
But I get so scared, I leave the floor with a shine...
At this moment, she slips and falls. The aria stops on a dime. Elle looks around...and mopes...for she has just slipped in a puddle of her own anxiety fluids.
Intermission...
Okay, we're back. Now, we're going to pick up where we left off:
O Borson, Borson, take me in
Into my poor ears, this life leaves a din
I'd rather toss it into a bin
O Borson, Borson, take me in!
Now, the accompanists play an instrumental bridge, in forte. A harpist, it seems, has also joined in...as has, it seems, a double bass, a bassoon, and a Celtic flute.
Three words that became hard to say:
"I," and "Can't," and "Sleep..."
What you are now, I wanna be
Look how pathetic, back when, I was...
Once again, the accompanists play a forte. And Elle now dances with more power than ever...like a burning, burning, burning Ellie Goulding.
O Borson, Borson take me in!
To my family, I'm a cheap burden
I'm just a zero, but they're a ten
O Borson, Borson, take me in!
Borson, Borson, take me in!
The lambs will never live again
Their adorable bleats, I'll hear never again
O Borson, Borson, take me in!
The music slows, and gets softer. It continues to do so, as Elle takes this aria home. She slows in her dancing...but eventually stops in the center of the spotlight, gazing up at the black onyx-crystal shadow of the cave ceiling.
Dumbed down, and numbed, because I'm a bimbo
Here now, I stand, in helpless limbo
I'm now just as good to the Reich as the Shem folk
With my lambs dead, I'm just a disgraced Pembroke...
In the ceiling, glowing runes begin to appear. For some reason, they start to make little Elle feel even more nervous than before. But at least she can stay calm just long enough to finish this aria. I mean, let's face it; it's already bad enough that this scene has had to have one intermission.
Three words that became hard to say:
"I," and "Can't, and "Sleep"
"I," and "Can't, and "Sleep..."
"I..." and "Can't..." and "Sleep..."
The piano plays its final notes. All around, the candles dim. It gets dark in here, again. Simultaneously, it gets very quiet...
Up from a cave deeper in the ground, an orange light shines brighter and brighter. Elsewhere, drums sound, in the deep. They just roll along, in the deep.
All over some of the floors, big beer mugs, full of water, have been set. For the time being, the water in them is very still.
In another cave room, the floor is covered in some kind of white powdery substance. A few pole-scythes lean against the wall.
A model city covers the floor of another cave. It's unclear, as to which city it's a model of...but it bears many characteristics of Reykjavik, London, Amsterdam, Luxembourg City, Glarus, Appenzell, Herisau, Schaffhausen, Zug, Neuchâtel, Solothurn, Frauenfeld, Liestal, St. Gallen, Aarau, Lausanne, Bern, Zürich, Kiel, Magdeburg, Dresden, and Wiesbaden. It's tallest buildings are as high as someone's waist. Its streets are about as wide as catwalks.
Just above this model city, a stone dais sits. Atop it, there's a throne. It's got bull horns coming out of the top of its back...as well as hog tusks coming out of the ends of both of its armrests. It's upholstered with fur.
As the musical intro gets louder, it soon becomes evident that it's a hybriding of new age dark Viking music, and the intro to Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." That's convenient; the next aria will be sung to the tune of that latter song.
For now, the throne levitates with its back towards the fourth wall. Slowly, though, it rotates around...
In the chair, a scary-looking man sits. He's shirtless, and has a lot of black tattoos on him. He wears a wolf's head on his head. Wolfs' teeth hang, from bands, from his wrists. He wears a lot of chrome steel jewelry. His legs are very flexible.
From here, he sings the aria. His backup will be here, soon enough...
There's a fire, burning hot in Muspelheim
Whoever's arse it burns more, I'm very sure it's not mine
Finally, my baby comes, with the feet of dreamy dim
Over her, my chances of not controlling her are slim
Now, more drums play. This causes the water in the glasses to make ripples. At the same time, Borson stands, abandons his throne, and descends the dais.
As he does, shiny yellow eyes appear in the shadows behind him. They're she-wolves'. Silently, they lurk behind him, as he marches across the dance floor before the fourth wall. Most of them are white, and some are black.
See how I'll leave with every piece of her
She must not underestimate all I will do
As the fire burns, the water leaves, and all the illusion that comes
As a demon of Muspelheim, I know not the fuss
About now, a few wraiths assemble in the room where white powder covers the floor. Each one levitates a pole-scythe to himself.
The scars of illusion remind me of delusion
They keep me thinking that anxiety was meant to rule
The scars of delusion have stoked the fires of reactionism
I can't help fidgeting
We could have it all!
And now, in the "powder room," the wraiths put on a dance. They wave their scythes around, dragging them along the floor. This, in turn, causes them to generate big white clouds that fill the room. Their feet never touch the ground. O wait; they're wraiths, they don't have feet.
All around Borson, the she-wolves leap up on their hind legs, dance around, and howl. They've raised the hair on their backs; like Viking Mohawks.
All over the floor, the moonlight illuminates this cave floor. Naturally, there's a skylight above. When the wind blows past it, it can lend quite the sonic special effect. So, it does. As it does, it feeds the fires of Muspelheim, below.
Armed with a pair of Uru nunchuks, Borson dances among his harem. Now he never accidentally hits himself in the head with one of them is beyond a lot of folks...including me.
Setting Peace on Fire!
She has my faithlessness in her hand
And she will,
And she WILL make me great!
Before him, a great empty wall appears. A table appears; it's got countless skulls piled atop it. As Borson sings, he collects one skull at a time, and throws it, smashing it. For the second verse of the aria, the wolves give the howling a break.
Lately, I've noticed the world's underachievers
They get so used to cutting slack, they should have more fevers
From here, I'll bring them all out of the dark ages of labor
And those who don't follow, I'll do SO much more than abhor...
The scars of society have bereft my propriety
They've got me on the warpath to making longer days
The scars of their failures, they've left me faithless
My wrath burns like Muspelheim
Tonight, the towers rise!
All over the cave, it continues. The scythe-wielding wraiths dance/fly among white powder. Borson smashes skulls against the wall. The water in the glasses make ripples, as the drums beat. And once again, the she-wolves re-activate their "howlelujah chorus."
Banners big and waving!
Roaring in the deep!
Illusion had my heart within its clawed clutch
And they played it,
And they played it to the beat!
Leaving the wolves at the model city's fringes, Borson now dances in its streets. Indeed, this makes him feel big. What's worse, he's still flaunting those Uru nunchuks. Good thing he doesn't decapitate one of the model city's towers...
The world could have it all
Burning in the deep
I know have their bodies on strings
And I'll puppeteer them to the cue!
In the upper walls and ceilings, runes start appearing. They seem to generate anxious politics. And they sure seem to enhance Borson's performance. Once again, the wolves give the howling a break, for this aria's next verse:
I'll throw every soul out of every cargo hatch
The less distractions, the better, we'll harvest every big catch
More gold from the ground, this Reich will have a new sheen
Grindstones will whet every blade until it's more than keen
Now, the howling re-commences. Now, the glowing runes in the walls and ceilings are brighter than ever...although they keep flickering.
We could have it all...
We could have every-fucking-thing...
Analysis...
Good health...
Perfection...
Now, sparks shower down from the cave ceiling just above the model city. Now, Borson dances with more energy...still enviably swinging those Uru sticks. Every now and then, he tosses one set in the air...and always manages to catch it, no matter how far it flies.
We could be a war machine!
With fires in the deep!
No more sleeping in!
No more brooding!
Never in the past!
Always to the future!
Never more to lie!
Never more to snore!
Nightmares are all over!
Gold will fill the vaults!
Fires will be born!
Metal will be forged!
Now, every building in the model city is incendiary. Still, Borson dances among the fires, as if he himself was fireproof. But then, if he's truly the son of Bor...he just might be...
Don't need Nidavellir!
Don't need Muspelheim!
I'll have every body in my clawed clutches
And I'll work it,
Work it,
Work it,
Work it until they bleed!
All around him, the lights dim. Below, the fires still roar. Other than that, not a thing stirs.
Alas, something does. Borson opens his eyes, and lifts his head.
At the edge of the cave chamber, little Elle Gold makes her entrance. She's much smaller than him; Borson can feel it...
"Excuse me? Hello? Can you help me?"
Borson's eyes roar with the fires of Muspelheim...as he grins.