Rammstein Music Video Stories

Wilder Wein

(Warning: There may or may not me references or characters rather....to other artists I listen to. All characters except gypsies (Till being the obvious exception) are actual artists I listen to.)
A tale as ancient as time itself spins. Faster and faster, it tells and retells itself, like patterns on an Afghan made by a beloved member of your blood bonds. A tale that has always been in existence, a feeling that we as humans cannot get rid of, at least, not until we are at our very wits end, when we do no longer feel anything. A Mister and a Mistress make bonds together, and that is where a tale begins. A common theme in history's long span of time. The darkness of the night, illuminated by a silver moon who watches over the world to ensure the safety of humans, for if the moon were to leave, surely the hellish rocks from the outer reaches of the universe would come crashing down to kill us all. Such a beautiful thing the moon is. And the sun, such a blistering, burning, miserably bright caretaker in the sky. It burns us, so that our very skin peels off the body. Yet, it too, like the moon, is a gift that we would not be so well-off without. The sun and the moon are in a tale of romance, taking care of it's earth, it's people.
But the sun is a cruel being. Yes, it has other moons and other planets from those moons to take care of. Our moon has been cheated on. You must not give in to the temptations from the sun, as well it brings life, it brings a fiery death too, and a terrible sadness for heartbroken moons as well.
Wilder Wein.
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When this particular band of gypsies came into the gates of a kingdom or village, you could tell right away that something was off. He had skin as pale as the moon that hung in the sky instead of the beautiful hazel skin tones that surrounded him. It was that his pale skin wasn't beautiful...but at times it looked quite ghostly. And he couldn't take his eyes off that notebook most of the time.
By definition, he had indeed become somewhat of a gypsy considering he traveled with them, partook in their cultural festivities, wore their clothes, spoke their language (though it was not his native tongue by any means), and contributed to making money for the group. He knew the dances, he knew the music, in fact he was a part of the musicians group for all their dances. He played the clarinet, but most of what he did was write. He wrote many tales, and was usually sitting towards the edge alone during gypsy festivities. Yet, all the gypsies liked him, and enjoyed having him in their nomadic group. He joined the gypsies after taking interest in their culture and finding that he found the most inspiration while on the road. Writing was his passion. And Till Lindemann was his name, clearly he was the odd one out, but the gypsies he traveled with loved him. And he loved them. They were like family, and Till wouldn't have it any other way.
Boy, sometimes things don't go according to plan. But we would be getting ahead of ourselves to tell you why they don't always go according to plan. And considering the gypsy is a more derogatory term, we shall call them by their proper name, the Romani or Roma people.
Till smiled to his friend, Brishan Stareley who walked beside them as they entered the gates of the Kingdom of Wein. Till couldn't help but chuckle at the name whenever he heard it's name, causing his Romani friends to all look at him and sigh. In his native tongue of German, Wein meant wine, but of course, the Kingdom of Wein was a fitting name considering their wine was the best throughout the German lands, probably because it shared borders with the French lands, and no one could argue that the french made some damn good wine. They were immediately greeted by some quite stoic citizens. Whenever they went into the Kingdom of Wein, they weren't always the most welcome at first. But then the citizens would soon watch their dances fondly. Brishan looked to him and smiled, beginning to talk in his native tongue.
"I have heard word from other places we have been. There is a festival celebrating the prince's birthday. Prince of Wein."
"Which one? Are there not two princes?" Till asked, replying in the Romani tongue as he usually did. Brishan considered it for a moment, and nodded.
"Yes...I believe so, however I do not remember which one it is...in the last village they spoke of his charm though. At dinner last night, you were so wrapped up in writing, you probably do not remember the conversation. We are to be preforming at the celebration! You can use those clarinet skills of yours and charm them while our best dancers dance. Is that not something?" Brishan exclaimed, grinning. Till couldn't help but sigh hopelessly, his friend got excited over pretty much everything. The two walked in silence from awhile, among the other Romani, who were advertising their products and beautiful gypsy dances as they walked. The architecture of Wein was beautiful, Till often enjoyed coming here, as much as the people were often stoic, and too busy with their work to really pay attention to the Romani dances and songs they performed. Two guards walked up to the flamboyant Romani, and insisted they stop so a message could be delivered. They started listing off names of Romani people they wanted to follow them to the palace. Those whose names weren't called would be allowed to resume their activities. It was good to know Romani were still welcomed in Wein. There were places they weren't welcome anymore. Their particular group had never faced any real trouble, but some of the other Romani groups were slaughtered, under order that anyone who killed a gypsy would not be found guilty. It was awfully unfair, and Till supposed it had something to do with the fact that gypsies didn't particularly call any place home, or claim any land as homeland. The free-spirited souls of Romani, some of the royalty absolutely hated it. Till was startled from his deep thoughts when he heard his name and Brishan's name being called. They were the final ones, and stepped forward. Now they walked towards the palace, Till could almost smell the anxiousness from his fellows as they walked. But they entered the throne room with a smiling King Manson looking down upon them. Hesitantly, he and his people bowed and stood back up.
"Welcome gypsies!" Though he threw one confused glance at Till, the way Till was dressed showed that he was in fact a part of the group. His smile resurfaced.
"I have called upon you to take part in the festival for my son Richard's birthday! With your dances and song, surely it shall make a festival to remember! You are welcomed to stay in the castle chambers, alongside the other gypsies you have traveled here with! The gypsy people are welcome in my kingdom without hostility." He said, obviously happy with the arrangement. Till found it a relief that the King Manson was as friendly as he was. Many kings, while they did not exactly shun gypsies, remained distant. A younger crowned man stood up and smirked alongside his father. Till could see the prince was somewhat full of himself. But as Till's eyes traveled, he noticed another crowned prince, that surely was the other sibling, who was staring off into space, and Till couldn't tell whether his eyes were pensive or upset, but he payed no attention to the gypsies, nor to his father or brother. He seemed to be an obvious odd one out, long brown hair that was tied up, and spectacles sitting on his nose, and framing his eyes. He was a very tall thin man, Till could tell this, even while he was sitting down, and he had little muscle compared to the other brother. Suddenly their eyes met, startling Till that the prince had noticed him looking. The prince looked a little surprised at him though, as if he hadn't expected to see Till. But before any more questioning eye contact could be made, they were dismissed to chambers, all the other Romani that hadn't been brought to the castle where gathered in the corridor, as royal guards assigned them castle chambers. These were smaller chambers, Till knew that all castles had different chambers. They most certainly weren't going to get royal chambers though, they were still gypsies, no matter how friendly the king was towards them.
But Till didn't need to think no more about such things. His day would come down to three things. Rehearsals with the other Romani, practicing clarinet, and more writing. Lots of writing. In fact, that's what Till was going to do now.
But his writing time was short-lived. He heard a noise in which he intended on investigating.
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