Original subtitles

(horn blowing)

♫ Here's Vic the Viking

♫ Sailing the seas, it's Vic the Viking

♫ Full of ideas, it's Vic the Viking

♫ Say won't you take us with you please

♫ Here's Vic the Viking (Vic the Viking)

♫ With new adventuers, Vic the Viking

♫ Battle the dangers, Vic the Viking

♫ Bring every enemy to his knees

♫ Vic the Viking

(lighthearted music)

(groaning)

(strumming harp)

(laughing)

- I bet you I'm gonna win the sponge toss this year.

Yay!

- My turn.

Oh, missed it.

- (giggling) Vicky, you're a bit rusty.

- I know, I'm not very good at this game.

Hey, but it's funny how it marks our hands.

- Maybe you'd be luckier at, um...

Ax-throwing.

- (laughing) Yes!

- I'm not sure.

- The herring-eating contest?

- Oh, no, yuck.

- No, no, no, more left.

Watch it.

Careful.

- Snorre, watch where you're going!

- Sorry, Mom.

- Don't come home all covered in herring.

(giggling)

- I won't, Mom.

That was your fault.

- Minnow-brain, it was yours. - No, it was yours.

- Well, ladies, I hope God Freya will be happy

with our spring festival.

This year we need a good harvest and lots of good fortune.

- Greta, what a nice surprise.

Are you ready?

- Of course, but not until Gorm has cleaned our God Freya.

Let's rehearse the festival's traditional opening song.

♫ Freya, God of all that grows

♫ Protect our crops from wind and snows

♫ Bountiful plentiful fields of wheat

♫ With more to harvest, there's more to eat

♫ Freya, God of all that grows

♫ Protect our crops from wind and snows

♫ Bountiful plentiful fields of wheat

♫ With more to harvest, la la la la la

(shouting)

(screaming)

- What's the big idea, pushing me into the barrel?

- (laughing) It's not my fault you can't

stand on your own two feet.

- Oh yeah?

Try moving yours a little instead of laughing like a seal,

I'm doing all the work!

(sniffing)

- Snorre, are you all right?

(sniffing)

Oh my, you stink to high heaven!

- Me?

- This isn't your usual smell of old socks.

You stink like herring.

- Herring smells good.

- Go home and wash this instant,

before everybody passes out.

- No, Mom, no way.

- Do as I say.

Are you trying to tarnish our family name

in front of the whole village?

- Does a viking really have to wash?

- [All] No!

- Do viking women have to put up with such a stench?

- [All] No!

- Hey, this is no time to fight.

We're supposed to get the festival ready.

- Well, if that's the way it's going to be,

we're not opening the festival.

At least not until Snorre cleans up.

- We'll see about that.

- Oh, will you now?

- What a catastrophe.

If we don't honor the god Freya,

the harvest will be disastrous.

There won't be a single grain of barley to eat.

Just like in 956.

- Oh no!

Not like in 956!

The villagers were so hungry,

they had to eat the soles of their shoes.

(gasping)

- [Urobe] Or our luck will run short.

- Enough!

Snorre has to wash.

I'm the chief here, aren't I?

I'm commanding you to go clean up immediately.

- You said it yourself, a real viking doesn't wash.

- Stop this nonsense.

Take these dried herbs.

- Aw, you know I hate cleaning with dried herbs.

It itches and scratches.

- They'll scour you squeaky clean,

and don't forget behind the ears.

- Oh, come on.

You don't have to really wash.

Just make your mother think you did.

- Oh, you mean wash.

I hadn't understood.

Okay chief, I'll go wash.

♫ Oh gosh, how good it is to wash

♫ To lather and rinse off

♫ I splish and I splash

♫ It's such a joy to wash

♫ To lather and rinse off

♫ I splish and I splash

♫ Rub a dub dub, with water from the tub

♫ La la la la la

Ta-da!

(cheering)

- Great, all's well.

Back to the preparations.

- Hold on, not so fast.

(sniffing)

You still smell like herring.

- B-b-but but Mom, I swear.

Didn't you hear how hard I was scrubbing?

- And this?

Who do you take me for?

- We're not singing the opening hymn

'til Snorre smells like a fresh spring morning.

(groaning)

(melancholy music)

- Hmm, yes.

- Is that bad?

- I've never tasted one, but it's what we'll have to eat

once we've run out of shoes.

- Tell me, Urobe.

You wouldn't have any knowledge that would

force Snorre to wash, would you?

(muttering)

- No, but a Gallic healer once gave me

a curious object that's supposed to wash things.

It's like magic.

The Gaul called it soap.

But alas, I don't know how it works.

- Let me borrow it, Urobe.

Maybe I can figure it out.

- If someone can do it, Vicky can.

(giggling)

(lighthearted music)

- It doesn't taste good.

(sniffing)

- But the smell is so sweet.

(laughing)

Did you see that?

It's slippery as an eel.

Look, Vicky, the stains have washed off.

- Me too, look!

It is magic.

The Gauls were right.

All we have to do is get it wet.

- Let's wash Snorre with it!

- He'll still come up with some reason not to wash.

- Then we need to find a way, without him realizing.

- You know, Ylvi, the problem with Snorre

is that he doesn't like being clean.

Aha!

I've got it!

But I'm gonna need a hand.

- I knew it, you always have bright ideas.

- Tjure!

Snorre is telling everyone that he's the grimiest,

dirtiest viking, far more than you.

Is that true?

- What?

Where is he?

Wait 'til I give him a piece of my mind.

- What's this I hear?

Your feet stink more than mine?

- So what if you haven't changed your socks in 18 years?

The grime is so thick on mine, I don't need socks,

even in winter.

- If it were me, I'd hold a duel of stinky feet

to settle the matter.

- [Snorre and Tjure] With pleasure!

- You understand the rules, right?

Ylvi, with the best sense of smell in the village,

is standing below.

She'll decide the winner.

No cheating, you guys, right?

One, two, three, duel!

(playful music)

(coughing)

(squawking)

- Snorre, look out behind you!

(shouting)

Soaped up.

- Huh?

- Scrubbed.

Rinsed!

- Yay!

And perfumed, with some sweet-smelling rosewater.

There you go, Snorre, all shiny and new,

like freshly-pillaged treasure.

(groaning)

- Did I win?

(triumphant music)

(laughing)

- Come to mama, Snorrie-poo.

You haven't smelled this good since you were a baby.

- Mom, there are people watching.

(laughing)

- And did he already have that face?

Oh, hello, little Snorrie.

Is my Snorrie-poo all cleaned up now?

(strumming harp)

♫ Freya, God of all that grows

♫ Protect our crops from smelly toes

♫ Time to start the festival

♫ This one will be your best of all

(cheering)

(mellow music)