“By Odin!”, exclaimed Clöst Aerfrök, the Village Elder.
“My Magical Thinking-Box has ceased to work..the Seeing-Portal has gone a strange shade of blue. What sort of trickery is this that Loki inflicts on us?
“How shall I be able to figure out the tide schedule, so we can know when to set sail to invade the Celts? How shall I calculate how to distribute our plunder? How shall I count the Lute-Fisk harvest?”
“Let ME help!…..” offered the Berserker, after Elder Clöst had left.
“No…wait!”, said the Apprentice. But it was too late.
“NYARRGH!”, the Berserker screamed.
“That evil blue glow smells of DEATH! I shall send these vile spirits back to the realm of Niflheim, from whence they came!”
Elder Clöst came back to find the Berserker standing in a pile of the broken pieces of the Magic Thinking-Box.
“HE did it..not ME!”, cried the Apprentice.
“Idiots“, Clöst muttered under his breath.
“Sigh…very well. What is done, is done. Summon the Kilted Barefoot one…he will know what to do”.
The Kilted Barefoot one arrived, and assessed the carnage.
“Aye, the damage is great. But all is not lost. I may be able to help you.”
“Bring me four logs of the stoutest Oak, thick as a man’s arm. A heavy length of twine, spun from the finest hemp, and two human skulls, from our bravest defeated enemies”.
And the Kilted Barefoot one worked through the night, applying his sorcery…
Came dawn, the Barefoot one presented his work:
“Behold…I have strung the pieces of the broken Thinking-Machine bits along the twine, and have formed an abacus. This will still allow you to calculate and count. Perhaps not as quickly as before, but I promise you, the Blue Screen of Death shall torment you no more”.
“Crude, simple, but effective. And still better than what we had before”, exclaimed the Elder. “I thank you, O Kilted One. We shall reward you well”.
And they did.
And the village was soon able to resume invading the Celts, dividing their plunder, and counting their Lute-Fisk.