Original subtitles

(horn sounding)

♫ 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 adventures, Vic the Viking

♫ Battle the dangers, Vic the Viking

♫ Bringing every enemy to his knees

♫ Vic the Viking

(dramatic music)

- I know you're impatient to set sail.

- [Crowd] Yes!

- But today is a special day.

We have to choose, as is our tradition,

our leader for the year to come.

(gasping)

I know it is a formality, but is there anyone here

who wishes to challenge Halvar as leader?

(indistinct murmuring)

No one at all?

- Uh, well, uh.

Oh, hey, maybe Gorm wants to be leader.

(laughing)

- Oh, no, I don't, no thanks, not me.

- Ha ha, I didn't think anyone would want to challenge me.

- So, now the gods will decide what task you must carry out

to prove your leadership.

- Throw the runes, Urobe.

I can perform any task the gods desire.

(muttering)

(laughing)

- [Urobe] Of course, that's it!

Before the sun sets, you must make a seagull

land on your helmet.

(laughing)

- I've got to attract a seagull?

Easy peasy.

(lighthearted music)

Birdy birdy birdy!

Get your fishy fishy fishy!

(laughing)

- Halvar, it is forbidden to attract the gull with fish.

No, the runes are quite clear.

- It's scared of the shiny totem face.

(gasping)

- Shoo, shoo!

Go away!

Leave me alone!

Here, Halvar, take my helmet.

I don't want to be chief!

- Halvar is cursed!

- The gods haven't chosen him.

- Silence!

Halvar has until sunset to make the gull

land on his helmet.

- Phew.

- Gorm is not the chief.

- The gods aren't that crazy.

- However, if he cannot do it,

the first person to have the gull on his or her helmet

will be Flake's new chief.

(growling)

(whimpering)

- Oh, don't worry, Vic.

After I've eaten these I'll smell so fishy

that the gull will think I'm a giant sardine.

It'll land on me straightaway.

- I'm not too sure about this, Dad.

- You see, Tjure, my shirt smelled of fish.

That's what attracted the gull.

It should leave me alone now I'm wearing a clean one.

(sniffing)

- Hmmm.

I can't smell much difference, Gorm.

Maybe that one's more cod and this one's more herring,

but they both smell of fish.

(seagull crying)

(playful music)

Yes, it's definitely the smell of your shirt.

- I've got to find Halvar!

- [Vic] Sorry, Dad, but there's no sign of the gull.

- [Urobe] It may be that you still

don't smell of fish enough.

(groaning)

(belching)

- Oh, oh, look!

There it is!

- Halvar, I've washed my shirt, but it still smells of fish!

- Go away, Gorm!

The gull's going to land on me.

- Gorm's shirt, Dad.

Put it on.

- Oh, oh.

Give me that.

Here, birdy, birdy.

Birdy, birdy, woo.

Come down, come on.

No, Ylva!

- Oh.

- Wait, birdy, birdy!

Wait for me!

Come on!

- Oh, I think that qualifies as cheating, Halvar.

(growling)

- Oh, we can't go on like this.

We're going to end up with Gorm as chief.

Can you imagine that?

- I think I've got just the right idea to help Halvar.

(shouting)

- Whoa!

- Remember what we said.

- The barrel, Faxe, the barrel!

- Would you mind getting into the barrel, please?

- What are you doing, Faxe?

This is supposed to be a punchy, commando operation.

You've got to grab Gorm and throw him into the barrel.

- It's the only way to keep Halvar as chief, Gorm.

We mustn't let the seagull find you.

- You're right.

Take me as far away from the village as you can.

- Ouch!

(shouting)

Oh, ow.

But if I'm not chief, what am I going to do?

- You could retire.

- Retire?

But a real viking never gives up.

You taught me that, Papa.

- You're right, son.

There's still two hours to sundown,

and I'm not beaten yet.

- What are you gonna do?

- If the seagull doesn't come to me,

then I'll go to the seagull.

(cawing)

- Go on, Dad, again.

(cawing)

(cow mooing)

- Oh, yuck.

(laughing)

(cawing)

- Oh, I didn't know it was nesting season, Halvar.

Nice nest, though.

(whimpering)

(cawing)

- Birdy birdy birdy.

- Uh-oh.

(cawing)

- You've got to admit it, Halvar makes a really good tree.

- Yeah, he's really branching out.

(laughing)

(cawing)

(shouting)

- Leave me alone!

- Your idea was sure to work, eh?

- Hmmm?

Aha!

(mellow music)

- Are you sure this is going to work, Halvar?

I don't want to be the ch, the chief.

- We'll just have to trust in the gods.

And Vic.

- The gods better hurry.

There's not much time left.

- Oh, poor old Halvar.

- Poor old Gorm.

- Poor old Flake.

(gasping)

- There it is!

(playful music)

(cawing)

(groaning)

- Now!

(cawing)

- Hey, the seagull!

It's the seagull!

I'm the chief of Flake!

(cheering)

- [All] Halvar's the chief!

- Dad's the chief!

- Hooray, I'm not the chief, I'm not the chief!

- Dad's the chief!

- Oh, Vicky, you did it again.

- I told you it was easy.

(cheering)

(mellow music)