Crabbit Faery Tales and Folk Tales of Forumshire

Not sure if Huffjuff has been a story yet or not, certainly not in one of mine before, its his debut! (as its yours too for one of my tales)

There is a certain unsavoury quality to this tale. Azriel's right. Just the tonic for a rancid night.

It's always good to have some new blood, especially if they don't complain about their likenesses being (mis)used by our creative talents here.

{{{That's why I always slap that disclaimer on my fanfics, though in a couple cases I did actually ask people if they were okay with being written in first, just to be safe. }}}

There is a certain unsavoury quality to this tale. - Orwell

Have you read the original tale recently? Between you me and Old Anon (who is probably earwigging anyway) its a shocker- if it has a moral I cant find one save perhaps -'its ok to housebreak and steal shit so long as you get away'. It has no ending- they come home she runs away. That's it! Shocking tale telling I am sure you'll agree, one wonders how it became a classic, its not even worthy of a Wholesome Tale.
Anyhow in the spirit of a Forumshire writer I decided to fix the material by embarking upon a coming of age road trip story with no known destination or clue where it now goes or how it gets there in the end, if I can find the end- solid Forumshire thinking, I am sure you will agree


"especially if they don't complain about their likenesses being (mis)used by our creative talents here." - Eldo

Indeed yes! I seem to recall getting into a spot of bother with Mrs Figg over her depiction in some of my earlier tales of Forumshire- I do hope to cause less offensive these days -or at least to cause the same amount but conceal it better - but I can't help but notice she has not commented on this tale of late...

((((( its a good job he hasn't heard of the smelly farty tartan skirt I gave him not long ago)))))

I smell peppermint! And wine!

And cheese. 

Sounds like the makings of a romantic evening for Petty and Figg.

Of course, I can only imagine that such an evening would end in buckie and fighting, but it might start off nice?

Yeah, with Buckie & fighting !

5.

Figg crept between a statue of Eru offering 2 in 1 consummation packages and a row of benches. As the Viking warriors had remained outside to slow down any impending angry relatives the benches were empty.

Figg snuck behind the back bench and peered around it.

At the end of a short length of isle was a gaudy podium of pink ribbons and balloons which bore legends on them such as “Just did it!” or “Pop goes another one!” which Figg did not understand.

The Viking girl was standing before the gaudy altar holding partly upright her male partner. Behind the podium stood the Priest of Eru, now wearing his official enormously tall hat of consummation which for reasons Figg could not fathom had an emblem on the front of a cart speeding into a tunnel and the very top of the hat, above the emblem seemed to be shaped like-what to Figgs eye -looked like a fountain of white water caught mid-spurt. She thought it looked pointless and hideous but could not but help admire the stitching.

“State yer name afore Eru,” the Priest intoned.

“Norc,” the Viking girl replied, “but for you, Norc the Fucking Impatient. You might want to bear that in mind.”

“Ah, um yes,” the Priest faltered, “And yer consort?”

“His name is..”

“He must speak fer himself fer this tae be binding in the eyes o' Eru,” the Priest admonished.

“Oh for the love of Odin's Third fucking Testicle!” Norc exclaimed in exasperation and began violently shaking the man until he was jolted into semi-consciousness, “say your fucking name!” Norc shouted into his face.

“What?”

“Your name. What is it?”

The man's eyes focused somewhat, “ I am Gorm, the Young,” the man declared his voice growing stronger in pride as he spoke, “Prince of the Danehobbit realm of Evigt Jaloux På Fjordge, and you will release...”

”Thats all we need my love,” Norc cooed and punched him in the face again and back into unconsciousness.

The Priest coughed,  ”Actually, we will need a few maer answers frae him yet.”

”Oh for fucks sake!”

At the city walls the King of  Evigt Jaloux På Fjordge and his personal guard had arrived at the city walls first, but their initial plans of sweeping through the gates and hacking and burning all before them to the Chapel had been rather thwarted by the fact that they were not the first angry family mob to have descened upon the town.

The McBanks were well prepared for it. And currently the feared deadly warriors of the King were struggling their way through ten pages of parchment outlining their rights and responsibilities within the town as the wronged family, after which they were obliged to sign a contract before entry. As they were very good at being Danish Viking warriors they were less good at reading and writing  and as none of the questions involved pigs this was taking some time and a hell a lot of frowning.


Inside the chapel Figg winced as Norc the Impatient, in growing impatience slapped her beloved awake for the fourth time.

“I am not sure he can take much maer o' this,” the Priest offered slightly worried.

“Nonsense,” Norc replied slapping Gorm again, “I am sure he will live to be old one day.”

“But will he live tae consummate afore Eru?”

“Help me,” the man said weakly as he came too again.

“Just say yes”, Norc yelled in his face.

“What?”

“No,” she slapped him again just to help him come round more, “not what, yes.”

Yes?” Gorm said vaguely and concussed.

“That'll do,” Norc said cheerfully and punched him aagin.


Outside the Chapel, having finally made it through the paperwork a horde of angry Danish Vikings and their King descended.

The defending Fjordian Vikings in Norc's following squared up to face them. And then in an embarrassed silence both sides pulled out their contracts to see what they were allowed to do next.

“Let the consummation begin!” the Priest intoned with raised arms and turned to what Figg had taken to be the wall behind him. It had a mural upon it which for reasons Figg had no idea of depicted Eru in a garden plucking cherries.

The Priest reached up with a staff and touched the mural in the centre.

There was a click and hum and the Priest stood back as a large bed neatly unfolded from the wall, four pillars swung down from the ceiling and precisely slotted into place with a satisfying clunk.


From outwith the Chapel the sound of violent fighting rang out. The contracts had finally been read.


Figg stared in confusion at the large four poster bed. They were going to bed? Why? Did they have to sleep first? Was this part of the ritual? It didn't make sense what with two Viking hoards at the door- and as screams and cries and clashes of metal grew louder, ever closer to the door- for them to go to sleep. Not now.

She crept from behind the bench and skirted closer down the line of benches, slipping back in-between the rows of benches about halfway to the altar bed and further from the door which now occasionally shook.

The two attending priests began to chant a rhythmic hymn and the Priest of Eru lit a rather tall oddly shaped candle, bulbous at the end and which had two smaller rounded candles at its base.

“Bring forth yer Witness!” the Priest intoned.

“My fucking what?”

“The witness, tae yer Consummation.”

“Don't you witness it?” Norc asked surprised.

“Nae, we are Priests an' must withdraw, yi bring the witness forth.”

“Ah fucking buggery!” Norc cried and dropping Gorm with a thud to the ground stormed towards the Chapel doors.

Figg ducked back further along the row of benches as the Vikings swept past cursing to herself.

Norc reached the doors and threw them back, one of her men stumbled in backwards an axe embedded in his chest.

Norc stared out, all but a few of her men were dead, the King of  Evigt Jaloux På Fjordge had overwhelmed them. She hastily slammed the doors shut and even more hastily slammed down the large wooden bar and almost ran back towards the altar.

“You'll have to fucking do it,” she informed the Priest.

“It is forbidden! It would not be legal or bidding, you must find another.”

“There are no fucking others, and in a few minutes an angry hoard of Danish Vikings are going to smash through that door and then us. It has to be now?”

Figg could resist this no longer. If she could see what people were doing she would have no need to ask questions and she might finally understand why people spoke about it so oddly.

She stepped out into the aisles from the benches, “I can witness it,” she said as all eyes turned on her and a heavy ram battered the door behind her.

“Fucking excellent timing” Norc exclaimed and turned to the Priest adding, “you get his trousers.”

But the Priest was staring in abject horror at Figg.

“A child! In the Holy Chapel of Consummation!” he said in a hoarse horrified cry.

“I am not a child,” Figg siad adamantly, hands back to their customary position on her hips, “I am twelve! And why is she taking off his trousers?”

The Priest looked like he was about to faint, realised which hat he had on and quickly pulled it from his head, then noticed the shape of the candle he was burning and in a panic snubbed it out and held it straight downwards before himself. But a horrified look from one of his fellow priests and a glance down indicated this was not a good idea. He cast it aside in horror and turned on Norc, “You have brought a child into the Chjapel where it is forbidden!”

“No I fucking didn't,” Norc responded, “I've never seen her ginger fucking head before.”

“If word of this gets out we are ruined!” the Priest moaned.

“Well I'm not going to fucking tell anyone am I?” Norc said, “and there's only us here.”

At which point the doors of the Chapel exploded inwards and it was suddenly filled with an angry hoard of Danish Vikings all smelling faintly of bacon.

Oh ... oh my.

Oh...oh my

Pettytyrant101 wrote:Not sure if Huffjuff has been a story yet or not, certainly not in one of mine before, its his debut! (as its yours too for one of my tales)

There's a Hugh - Hu for short- Fjuff in Work-a-hobbit. Maybe they are related?

'Oh my'- Almost everyone.

They did things differently in the olden days, as Figg can tell you

Especially the Vikings.

6

The King of Evigt Jaloux På Fjordge took in the scene before him, ”We arrive in time!” he cried triumphantly seeing Norc still desperately tugging at Gorm's trousers.

Figg, who was caught between Norc, the Priests and the flat out half trouser-less Prince on one side, and the advancing King and his guard on the other, choose to back off to the safety of the Priests and so also found herself by Norc.

”Who the fuck are you anyway?”

”Gingerlocks,” Figg replied, thinking she was not going to like anyone here very much, ”you lot can call me Gingerlocks.”

”You just cost me a fucking kingdom Gingerlocks,” Norc snarled.

”I didn't mean too!” Figg cried as the King was almost upon them, ”I just wanted to know what it was you were about to do, as no one will tell me what it is.”

”Well I don't think now's the fucking time to find out,” Norc replied as the King cried out in horrified disbelief, ”you have a child, in here?” he turned on the Priests, ”I will not just see just this consummation ended, I will see the McBanks ruined for this outrage against Eru!”

”She is noo wi us!” the Head Priest cried pleadingly.

The King glanced down at the hat thrown hastily to the floor beside the Priest,”You were wearing the hat?” and then his eye strained further, ”And holding the candle!?”

”But she, I mean, we didnae ken she wis there,” the Priest pleaded.

””Did she see, any, thing?” the King prodded fearfully and angrily.

”Any what?” piped up Figg, ”you are all doing it again aren't you? Why wont you just say what you mean? What's wrong with his hat, apart from it being stupid to look at? Or the candle? And why can't I watch?”

There was a loud gasp went round the room at this last one.

”You have poisoned this poor girls mind!” the King cried.

Figg turned on the King, ”You lot are Vikings, of sorts, even if you do smell of bacon. So you plunder and pillage, and the other thing. What is the other thing?”

Suddenly there was a room full of proud fierce warrior Vikings all looking at their feet and shuffling uncomfortably.

”What?” Figg cried in despair, ”why won't you just tell me what is going on?”

Almost as one the room filled with a stumbled, muttered chorus of, ”You'll find out when you are old enough.”

Which was the point Figg screamed and started beating the King with her fists and trying to kick him.

She had to be dragged away by two large Vikings, whom she bit. They threw her down at the feet of the Priests and Norc.

The King, now close enough to see the bruised and swollen face of the Prince asked aghast, ”What have you done to my son?”

”Fuck all, mores the pity,” Norc cried annoyed and leapt up from the prostrate Gorm and drew her sword.

”This consummation shall cease!” the King cried advancing his men behind him.

”But can't you fucking see we're in love? Look at that expression on his swollen little face. You can't stand in the way of your only sons true fucking happiness. We eloped together.”

”You abducted him!”

”The petulant fucking impatience of young love.”

”From his stag night.”

”Fuck! Things happen at parties.”

He was to be consummated with a Dane Princess, Princess of the Kedelige Flade Landområder the following day.”

”She sounds fun, so much fucking fun he changed his mind.”

”You coshed him.”

”He fell in fucking love.”

”And into a sack.”

”And my fucking arms.”

”And you bound and tied his.”

”Hey, what young love does on its own time is none of your fucking business.”

”But the well being of my estate is, and that of my sole heir.”

”Well you could look on it as not so much losing a son, but gaining a son stealing, land stealing psychotic bitch of a daughter who has just kept you fucking talking long enough for her reinforcements to arrive,” she looked passed the King towards the shattered Chapel doors and there silhouetted against the afternoon sun was a horde of Fjordian Vikings, ”Hello Daddy.”

'Daddy' held up a parchment and it unrolled, he read down it carefully, looked up after a moments perusal and with a wide beaming grin cried to his men, ”It says their fair game lads!” and rushed in at the Kings men.

”You might get your kingdom yet,” Figg said as Norc dragged her to one side behind the cowering Priests.

”I fucking doubt it.”

”Why? Your Vikings outnumber the Danes Vikings.”

”Yeah, but that won't help.”

”Why not?”

”Because my lot are here to stop the ceremony as well. He really fucking hates the Danes does my dad.”

The Fjordian Vikings were pressing now on the Danish Vikings in a mash of steel, swearing and bloody limb chopping.

Figg cowered behind the Head Priests robes, as it seemed the Priests were protected by contract.

”We have to get out!” Figg cried to Norc.

”See if you can spot any fucking exits.”

Figg took in their surroundings, which was tricky as it was largely a lot of unpleasant bloody violence she was trying very hard not to see, eventually she replied, ”One, the front door, but there seems to be a war in the way.”

”We're fucked then.”

Figg looked up at the Priest who was chanting to himself, ”Oi you,” she said tugging on his robe, ”where's your bolt hole?”

”Whit?” the Priest said ceasing his chanting and looking down at her.

”You priests always have a bolt hole, where is it?”

”If we did I widnae tell yi, when word o' this gets oot we ur ruined!”

A dead Danish Viking thumped to the ground at their feet, his face a permanent grimace.

Norc backed off as her father approached through the throng, eyes blazing.

”Well would you rather we were here to prove it or gone when the authorities arrive? Bolt hole now!” Figg reasoned.

The Priest looked at the approaching Vikings, then at all the dead bodies in his Chapel, ”The bed, there's a lever on the side will put it back. Just get out of my Chapel!”

Figg grabbed a surprised Norc by the hand and leapt onto the bed, pulling Norc with her, ”What the fuck?!” Norc cried.

Figg leapt for the lever and pulled.

The bed posts swung swiftly back and up, neatly hitting on the way by Norcs father squarely on the chin and sending him backwards with a furious roar, and then the whole bed tipped swiftly and sickeningly up and backwards and slammed closed against the wall.


”Ow,” Figg said in the dark, her faced pressed hard against what felt like a wall. Something sharp and awkward was pressing into her belly. They could hear the muffled shouting and yelling from inside the Chapel.

”Hold on, I think I can fucking kick this wall through,” Norc said and in the very limited space began to kick with her steel toe-capped boots, soon there was a cracking sound as her foot exploded through the bottom of the thin wall.

Figg reached down as Norc continued to kick and now punch her way through the wall. And just as Norc exploded through with a triumphant ”Fuck yeah!” Figg felt the thing pressing into her was a clasp, she flicked it and a door in the wall swung open, it had a Norc shaped hole in it.

They were in a small anti-room, another door led out of one side and Norc had pressed her ear up against it, the sounds of intermittent violence and swearing could still be heard from beyond the broken wall and bed.

Figg peered at an odd device that was attached to the wall next to the bed, it was rounded and dark, a palantir, and it was held in a casing and placed before a hole in the wall. She pulled the palantir out and put her eye to the hole. What she could see was the interior of the chapel overlooking where the altar bed would be when deployed.

”I wonder what this is about?” she said as Norc pulled open the door and fresh air and grey light poured in.

Norc strode over and peered through the hole and then tapped the palantir screen and peered into it, ”Oh my!” she said, ”those dirty old fuckers.”

”What is it?” Figg demanded as Norc put the palantir into a bag and threw it over her shoulder, ”Its a lifetime of blackmail, is what it is,” she said laughing and taking Figg by the hand led her to the door, ”we have to get out of here before they catch us, come on.”

Norc leapt forward pulling Figg at a run behind her, behind them through the broken Chapel doors the Vikings saw them go and with a yell turned in pursuit.

Norc weaved between the market stalls and through the crowds, though she did not bother weaving through them so much as going right over them.

Behind them was a trail of broken stalls, spilled and ruined produce and battered customers and angry Vikings.

Norc spotted the carts parked neatly in a row and leapt into the very cart that belonged to Forest Shepherd.

Figg stumbled into the back as the Vikings, destroying what was left of the market stalls closed in.

Nord flicked the reigns hard and yelled at the horse and it sprang away the cart bumping behind just as Forest re-emerged from a pub.

”Hey, that's my bloody cart!” he cried.

Looking back Figg yelled at him, ”Sorry! Look out for the Vikings!”

”What?” Forest yelled back.

”I said,” Figg yelled as loud as she could and as their cart sped off, ”Look out for the Vikings!”

”What Vikings?” Forest said and turning round was hit in the face by a hoard of angry Vikings.

But the Vikings were too late to stop the cart and its occupants who were now driving off out of sight and out of town sending chickens and pedestrians flying in their wake.

Figg was clinging onto the sides of the cart for dear life as it jolted and occasionally left the ground altogether, ”Where are we going?” she cried.

”Where they won't fucking follow,” Norc replied grimly, ”into Scothobbitland proper and the western lands of clan McTyrant.”

”Are they friendly?”

”Do you see that fucking huge grey cloud flecked with lightening in the distance?”

”Yes” Figg said peering ahead.

”That's not weather, that's a fucking crabbit cloud that sits permanently above their lands. How fucking friendly do you think they are?”

Figg stared ahead and then decided it was probably about time for her to have a proper sulk, she had not had one in ages, and she felt it was warranted: she had been essentially abducted, was being taken somewhere that sounded positively horrid, and was being pursued by a horde of angry Vikings. And worse of all she still, after all this did not know what it was everyone was doing but would not talk about. Or why when she thought of handsome young men with long hair she got butterflies. If all that was not worth a good sulk then nothing was.

So as the cart sped on towards the crabbit cloud Figg sat with arms folded firmly across her chest and her face bearing a spectacularly studied scowl and she sulked.

She was also she noticed very hungry, so she sulked about that too as the afternoon light around them began to fade into early evening. The purple and brown mountains of the Highlands and Clan McTyrant drew ever nearer.

I see this as I read your story

I hope this story keeps going for a long time. It's brilliant.

Oh dear Little Figgy, of all places to go, NOT THERE! My intuition tells me you will not like the McTyrants, oh no!

Your writing and imagery reminds me of nothing so much as Loony-toons, and that's a compliment.

Well its probably in the mix of influences somewhere Halfy- being a huge Loony tunes fan as a kid and later of Animaniacs. That and it is a Forumshire tale, and Forumshire house rules (and folks) have more than a touch of the Loony Tunes about them! So it does rather lend itself to that end of the spectrum rather than gritty realism for me.

Hopefully the next part will be up later- I can say at this point it will be a minimum of 9 parts, but probably 10 (or um more- who knows where it will go! )