So, when Odin was at home from one of his frequent sojourns, he liked to hide out in a secluded room overlooking the courtyard below. From his perch, he had a bird's eye view of the action down below. There were often times sporting events with the participants unfortunate souls captured during raiding parties. One of Odin's favorite events starred members of the Angle and Saxon tribes from the Isle of Brittany. They wore clothes made of mail, or tiny links of steel chain. They were mounted on a steed that was covered in a cloth from head to tail. The horses and the warriors both wore hoods that covered all save the eyes. The Warriors held a long pole in one hand, and a shield in the other. They would spur their horses toward each other at full Gallup, each trying to knock the other off of their respective horses. Chickens ran for cover flapping their wings, little kids and billy goats headed for cover, as dust swirled up into the sunlight. This frequently resulted in injury to one or both of the warriors, survivors continued to compete until a single warrior was left sitting proudly astride their horse. The toughest but most mentally challenges of the captives seemed to be predominately from the Germanic Tribe of Norman. These people lived near the Iberian Peninsula in Northern Gaul. The Normans would battle each other with steel balls embedded with steel spikes dangling from a heavy chain. The warriors would swing the ball trying to bash his opponent, while defending himself with a shield. Oft times when Odin returned from one of his raids, he would find that his hideaway had been claimed by someone and he would have to look around for another site in which to sequester himself and quaff his beer. Reliving battles past, and planning for battles to come requires solitude and strong ale, and an evening that ends in the arms of his good Queen Lady. Except that she always seemed to be weary...