The Jimmy

"Well consdering it's all solid basalt underfoot, I guess you making out any footprints is a miracle in itself," Julia yawned, as she was getting a bit tired and bored, and what's more the grassy bed she was on was amazingly comfortable and therapeutically effective.

Glad to see you still posting, Anon!

"The Good Fairy, I guess," Julia retorted a little grumpilly. "Can't we just get back to Rivendell. Hopefully among many meetings we'll meet Jimmy. He's not here - that bit I know - and if he's gone somewhere it might be anywhere - which would include Rivendell as I see it. Oh yes, he'll have gone looking for me, the loyal little sod. So let's look there first."

This Glorfindel bloke is a bit dense methinks, cant he get it through his Elfly head that the fair maiden wants to get to Rivendell pronto!

Chapter the Fifth... continued...


Shish was holding forth near the entrance of a hole in the bank of whatever the river's called where the Black Riders drowned, which name I can't recall just now - this is what happens to brilliant writers with brilliant big imaginative brains (and great big humility to match): their brains start to age (apparently).

The lovely goblin had made the hole she had found in said river bank as comfortable as possible, and quite like the one Smeagol's Grandmother lived in actually. She had made it as comfortable as possible, with an armchair sewn from thistlegrass and a stool made of unicorn bones; she had even made time to de-worm the walls, and there were some delicious fish sizzling on a stone griddle above a crackling fire.  

"There are two main Eruvian Sins as I see it," Shish was saying as she turned a fish setting up a tantalising simmer-fragrance which gently teased Jimmy's nostrils as he reclined in his armchair. "The taking of life, and the giving."

"What do you mean by 'giving'?" Jimmy asked.

"I mean giving birth to new life: goblins, men, elves, Scotshobbits. Sentient beings."

"Don't you mean 'gift' of life then?"

"Oh no. How many lives are truly worth living? And parents! They think they own you, or have some responsibility to train you to live your life as they think you should, and usually in a way they didn't do themselves. A Greek philsospher once said: 'Life is a veil of tears.' And if you study History you'll probably find that no life is ever lived without at least some travail or misery. Life is a horrid burden to many, and me, I've lived with goblins for five thousand or so years, which you'd have to agree is a major bummer. You look perplexed, Jimmy. Ask what's on your mind."

"What's a Greek?"

"Sorry, I forgot for a moment that I have the Power of Prophecy, which you can't have known, being from the Scottish Hebrides and all. Quite detailed Prophetic Powers actually, but while it includes the Power to read future philosophy texts, I can't predict what's going to happen next in this tale; not even Ol' Anon knows that."

"You are wise beyond my ken, I know that much," Jimmy smiled. "And I hope you don't mind me saying it, but what with my bones knitting quite nicely, I think you could be a Nurse!"

Shish tensed suddenly. "I sense elvish shimmering!" she cried.  "Oh dear. I must leave you and flee, for do not Elves mercilessly slay goblins on sight!"

"Do they?"

"Yes," Shish sighed and took Jimmy's hands in her own. "I must go."

But the thought of her leaving him cast a shadow over Jimmy's heart (metaphorically speaking) and he gazed into her eyes and remembered an old Scotshobbit song.

"Are her eyes not like carbuncles?
Are her limbs not the branching rose?
Are her toes not like periwinkles?
Of gossamer her nose?

Are her breasts not like pinecones?
Are her dreams among the stars?
Are her arms not tickly tendrils?
Oh yes indeed, they are."    


And as his eyes met her beautiful carbuncular eyes, he fell in love with her.

"I know Julia Figg will be seeking loyally for me, through thick and thin, in and out of dale, over mountain and under hill," saith he. "But, no, I must ply my life to yours, Shish, for have I not just now fallen deeply in love with you?"

"Have you?"

"Aye!"  

And it was become (slightly) like a tale from the First Age of which songs would one day be sung, a tale of smitteness and lustrous love between contrary Races, the joining of immortal and semi-human; and with all speed they sojourned off, southaways.



to be continued...






     


 


"

"I know Julia Figg will be seeking loyally for me, through thick and thin, in and out of dale, over mountain and under hill," saith he. "But, no, I must ply my life to yours, Shish, for have I not just now fallen deeply in love with you?"

wat!!

Chapter the Fifth continued...


"We must have only just missed them," Glorfindel opined as they stood at the entrance of the hole in the bank of the river that the Author still can't remember the name of eating fish which was one positive at least.

"Goblin girl you say?" Julia said licking her shapely lips. "And a good cook at that. But why would Jimmy have gone away with her? Captive?"

"No, I think he must have fallen in love with her. She has some healing powers - and is a great cook," Glorfindel further opined. "Healed in body and in stomach by the minitrations of a wise but obviously old fashioned woman (every Scothobbit's dream), Jimmy has gone off to lead a nomadic existence in the wilds with a goblin who has deserted her race, no doubt a beautiful goblin, one of Morgoth's eugenic miscalculations in the First Age."

"How do you know all that?" Julia wanted to know, quite impressed.

"I shouldn't really, but it does save Ol' Anon having to find a more literary way of conveying the information. You know how lazy he is. The point it: we now know Jimmy has been healed and rescued by a beautiful goblin."

"How do you know she's beautiful?"

"Would you go off with an ugly goblin? Logic, dear fair maiden. Pure logic."

"Well, what's the point of looking for them then?" Julia wanted to know bad temperedly. "That soddish Scotshobbit has gone and found love in the middle of nowhere. Good luck to him. Hey! That means you and I can go to Rivendell now!" And Julia was cheered inmmediately by the thought.

"Oh no! I must find that goblin lass and kill her."

"Why?"

"Because what is a rollicking good yarn without pathos and tragedy? Don't you know anything about High Fantasy, fair maiden?"

"I know that a sword thrust up an Elvish arse would have to hurt a lot," Julia thought, though she was wise enough, out here in the middle of nowhere, to not actually say it.




to be continued....

''I know that a sword thrust up an Elvish arse would have to hurt a lot," Julia thought, though she was wise enough, out here in the middle of nowhere, to not actually say it.

darned tootin I am. sooner or later we are getting to Rivendell and then his Elven arse is grarse.

Chapter the Fifth...


Miss Marblebottom of Crickhollow attended her lettertbox, and in her keeness to read the letter she found, only giving the house next door a cursory glance, though a general feeling of gladness no Black Riders were about anymore did occur to her. She disappeared into her own house and hurried to her room out of sight of her Mother and Father who did not care for Scotshobbits.

With eager antcipation, Miss Marblebottom opened the letter.

Belovéd Miss Marblebottom (the letter began in a Scotshobbitish accent),

I am writing, perhaps for the last time, as I am off on an adventure with a beautiful woman with elvish ancestry and will probably be somewhere in wilderland being pursued to the death by goblins by the time you read this. I am off to visit Puff'n'Stuff the Homeopathic with a view to obtaining his treasure. Julia Figg is my assistant, a woman of beautiful face and a body endowed with shapely strong muscles and two wonderful added apportionments, and no comon trollop, but one of the middle classes, and her bustle is a wonder to behold, but you must not be jealous.

Dear belovéd, I cannot swear I will ever return alive, or horribly deformed by some terrible fall among rocks, but when I do, I hope to take your hand in marriage by paying your racist parents a large sum to alay their prejudice against Scotshobbits and anyone else who isn't fom Buckland.

Always your nuggety little Scotshobbit,

Jimmy McCracken. (kiss kiss kiss)


Miss Marblebottom sat on her bed and scratched her nose thoughtfully. Though she did not tend naturally to jealousy, she knew certain misgivings about men and their fickleness when it came to beautiful women, and her thought now was of the foolish dreams the thinking organ of men tended to have about beautiful women. And what kind of beautiful woman with elvish blood would go off into the wilds with a gnarly bowleggéd Scotshobbit?  

"There is nothing for it," Miss Marblebottom decided. "I must set off after them and make sure nothing untoward happens between them, for how could anyone resist my fatally attractive Scotshobbit - and how could his thinking organ resist the blandishments and bustle of a lovely maid? Now, where are my glasses? as I am as blind as a bat and will likely wander off The Road due to my behazéd sight, though even with them on I could hardly pick out an attractive man if ever I was to meet one. Oh yes, and some scissors just in case a certain unfaithful thinking organ is in need of solid pruning."




to be continued...

{{{ }}}

I like the multiple plot strands here Anon; it's nice to see you writing at such length. Your wit and poking at fantasy tropes always make me smile (and sometimes think for a while afterwards).

It's good to know you think sometimes.

Chapter the Fitth    continued...



"It is rather amazing if not miraculous how your ministrations have completely repaired my totally wrecked body," Jimmy complimented Shish as he jogged across the river plain with the beautiful goblin. "Many would have never thought to sew my spinal cord back together. Some would think it impossible."

"I admit that most goblins, like the other races, are quite negative about things like that. Me, rather than standing around for thousands of years thinking about it, I just got the cotton and thread out and hoped for the best."

"And you can't even call it an Eruvian Miracle, as you are a child of an evil godless race."

"Strictly speaking, I worship Morgoth - or should. One day Thu - that's Sauron to you - is planning to rescue him from the Great Abyss and set the world straight. I don't see it myself. Eru's beaten him before and no doubt would again if called on. Anyway, I put it down to old fashiioned woman's ingenuity. That will beat highblown 'God will cure you with a Miracle'  mythology every time in my opinion."

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I continue to trust in Eru's love and His power."

"Is that because you have studied all things spiritual through a scientific lens and decided that Eru actually exists?"

"No, it's how I was brought up."

"Oh well, I suppose we could discuss religion all day, but clearly it's no point having an intelligent conversation with you on the subject."

"No, a total waste of time, although one day I pray Ol' Anon will write a tale where I'm a proper Atheist. I'm not really stupid in real life - no matter what Julia Figg says in real life - but he bearly always depicts me as a stupid numbskull. Seems to enjoy doing it in fact. He'll get his one day, I'm sure."

"But not in this tale I daresay."

"No, not in this one," Jimmy frowned. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"I'm not sure yet. I hear Moria has been opened up again by the dwavres under Balin son of Fundin. I thought we might go there and find him and his dwarfs. By all accounts he is a nice dwarf and I'm sure if we told him a few white lies - like I'm one of the long lost lesser elves of Beleriand and you're a stoor who was brought up by wild pigs - he might let us stay."

"Good idea. I do much admire Balin. I hear he has roaring fires roasting meaty haunches dripping with tasty fat and everything."

And so, with such hopeful thoughts in mind, they made south.




to be continued...

'He'll get his one day, I'm sure.'

Damn straight!

'male thinking organ'

Now I wanna read a version of the Athrabeth starring Petty and ... hmm, maybe Amarie?

It is true that a drunken Scotshobbit improves any tale

'male thinking organ' ???

is it that grey squidgy thing they use for getting into tight situations, or getting out of tight situations, or getting right back into said tight situation, without a clean hankerchief?

If it's still squidgy, the male in question can't be thinking very hard yet.

I keep mine pickled in buckie where it can do no harm

Pettytyrant101 wrote:I keep mine pickled in buckie where it can do no harm

Ol' Anon - Pickled to all the extremities, hey?


Chapter the Fifth continued...



"Tell me what your elf eyes see, Glorfindel?" Julia wanted to know as she stood beside the statuesque elve on top of a tall crag looking south across a rugged tumbly landscape of basalt, cold lava, sedimenary rock and erosion detritis and a few trees and shrubs.

"I see what could be a lone lesser elve of Beleriand and a Stoor possibly brought up by wild pigs - nay! closer inspection shows they are a beautiful goblin maid piggy-backing a tired looking Scotshobbit! Oh I see their plan!"

"And that is?" Julia inquired disinterestedly as she sat her bustle on a large stone and emptied grit from her ruined shoes.

"They go to Moria, no doubt with the intention of fooling Balin son of Fundin to let them in."

"That's a stretch of the old imagination isn't it?"

"No, it was in the last scene. It's not like I had to go back to the very first Chapters and try to remember what happened so that this tale stayed kind of consistent."

"Balin son of Fundin?" Julia now mused. "Sounds familiar. A dwarf I do believe. Come to think, I kind of liked him in THe Hobbit. Kind hearted."

"Well, you must go there and tell Balin that that goblin - however beautiful and elf-like - is a goblin. She must be killed!"

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"I return to Rivendell. It's not like I'm a gay fellow like Legolas, or at least not in the Third Age cum PJ sense, I'm First Age gay all the way. Those dwarves will treat me with suspicion due to old rivalries and suchlike going all the way back to Mad Madame Mim, the first dwarf, and Thingol both Wise and Stupid. An honest woman like you will be listened to."

And Glorfindel was gone, leaping from hillock to hillock leaving sprinkles of scintillating light like golden asterixes across the landscapes, each sprinkle fading until such time as he himself shrank with distance and finally disappeared somewhere in the direction of Rivendell.    
 
Julia sat there in stunned silence for quite some time.

Then she frowned.

Then she decided to go on toward Moria.

"I want to have a few words with that Scotshobbit," she proclaimed as she started off again. "He has a fantastic ability to upset me in all sorts of ways, whether deliberately or by sheer chance. And after that..."

Julia reached into her expansive bloomers and pulled out a flick knife, then returned it to it's hiding place.

"We'll see," she said to herself darkly. "We'll see."




to be continued....

that bloody elve is gonna get it when I get hold of his male thinking organ.

Chapter the Fifth continued...


It was rather unexpected that Julia caught up with Jimmy and Shish just as they were approaching the Gates of Moria, Julia coming one way around a mysterious lake there and Jimmy and Shish the other. You see, Shish had used many ruses, U turns, river crossings, treetop leaping, and various other evasive tactics to avoid Glorfindel, while Julia had stormed in a more direct and therefore quicker route.

"Well, well, well," Julia drawled as they came together and began to open and close her dainty hand on what looked to Jimmy like a rather stiff sausage in her bloomers but was actually the haft of her flick knife. "Fancy meeting you two here. I see you're feeling better, Jimmy."

"Oh Julia," Jimmy exlaimed in happiness. "You have found me even though Shish did everything in her beautiful goblin power to avoid anyone finding us."

"Yes, and who is this goblinish trollop while we're at it?" Julia wanted to know as she continued to fondle.

"There is something odd about that," Shish commented. "Jimmy mustn't have known you were transgender."

"What?"

Shish let her gorgeous eyes fall upon Julia's fondling hand.

"Hey! That's not what you think it is. It's the handle of a flick knife."

"Oh I see... I have to say you are even more beautiful than I had imagined - but I hadn't expected you to be transgender..."

"That's because I'm not." Julia grimaced. "It's a flick knife. And I'm planning to poke Jimmy with it - though the element of surprise seems to have been lost now."

"Poke him with it?"

"No, no, no, no - I meant by poke, stab him with it... Hey, cut it out Ol' Anon! Now what's your name beautiful goblin?"

"I am Shish, daughter of Azog," and she gave Julia such a smile as to disarm her immediately.

Julia blushed.

Shish blushed.

"Well, I'm kind of glad I've met you," Julia said. "You don't seem like the kind of goblin I'd be a party to killing. But as to you Jimmy O'Fartin-McCracken. Give me just one good reason why I shouldn't cut you to pieces with my knife?"

"I can't think of one just now," Jimmy admitted - as he was a very honest Scotshobbit. "Not a good one..."

"He is a simple soul and possibly should have been drowned at birth," Shish said reasonably. "But he is with me now and while obviously a numbskull, I have some affection for the sweet little wretch. Perhaps you might forgive him just this once?"

"Oh alright," Julia said looking into Shish's beautiful eyes with her beautiful eyes. "So what now?"

"Well, we are but thirty feet from those dwarf guards at the Gates of Moria. Why not come with us?" Shish said.

And her voice was like honey. Or at least so Julia thought. And so feeling feelings that were strange but nonetheless delightfully tickly, Julia accompanied them, without another word, just another little blush, toward the gates.




to be continued....  

This isn't heading for a jelly bath, is it?

Knowing Anon and his subversive scribblings it'll be rasberry too, favourite flavour of the Queens buckie. There is a republican hiding under those words you mark my word

halfwise wrote:This isn't heading for a jelly bath, is it?

Ol' Anon is a far more stylish writer than that (apparently).