Tales from the Circus - Bombadil von Rammstein



To anyone who knows him now, Bombadil's performing life began in the most unlikely manner since he spent his boyhood years as a (somewhat reluctant, it must be said) choirboy.

His days of singing practice & surruptitious wine-drinking were brought to an abrupt end, however, one snowy Christmas Eve.  Whilst walking home from kirche still clad in his Sunday best lederhosen, young Bombadil fell prey to a press-gang & was bundled aboard a brig headed for Batavia, kept below decks for days until they were safely out of sight of European shores.

Once allowed aloft, he swabbed the decks whilst watching the Straits of Hercules glide past...then endless leagues of jungled Africa...the bone-white sands of the Namib...  Rounding the Cape of Good Hope, the crew were terrified to find themselves pursued across precipitous waves by the hideously spectral Flying Dutchman - but thanks largely to our hero's new-found strength & prowess at the helm, the ghostly horror was outrun.

And run they did, across the ocean to India where Bombadil encountered snake-charmers & swamis, magi & mahouts; to Burma with its puppets & pythons, Buddhas & boxers; to Siam, land of cats & phantom krasue, twins & tigers, dragons & drums.

After two long years at sea, the brig at last docked in the East Indies & Bombadil was allowed to roam freely through the bustling city.  Those years had seen the youngster grow from a mere stripling to a notably muscled & tattooed seaman.  Following a glass or two of gin, he was keen to demonstrate his new-found strength...and his effortless hefting of barrels, swinging from beams & snapping of spars caught the eye of a small travelling circus arrayed further along the quay.

Captaine Zachariah set out to investigate - and the rest, as they say, is history...