Agent Nora and the Pied Piper of Svalfart

Agent Nora and DI Eldo had been married a year, and to celebrate their wedding anniversary Nora decided to hold a party at Mrs Figgs Emporium. The bar staff had promised to hose the seats down before the happy party goers arrived, as there was definately a weird honk coming from some of the swivel chairs. They also put on the buffet which consisted of chicken nuggets and Fanta. Nora wrinkled her nose at the unsavory nuggets sure that some of them would sprout little legs and scurry off into a convenient corner to breed. "This won't do" she cried to Eldo "we have sophisticated people coming tonight, you know Halfwise likes his Pol Roger and caviar, he will call us Plebs and ban us from his Umberto Eco appreciation book club meetings and we will miss the Sicilian toasted almond with sun dried tomato pannini Evenings what the fook". Eldo groaned, he preferred his beer and footy nights with the lads, with maybe some cheese and pickle sarnies if they were peckish. "ok ok keep your shirt on" he moaned. Marriage had taken the gloss off Romance somewhat, but they both had worked at being good partners and like those intrepid adventurers of the 1920's who had scaled Everest in little but woolly bobble hats, tweed jackets and Aunty Mildreds fruit cake in a tin, had stuck it out and overcome the many pitfalls and ambushes that waylaid young married people.

Nora picked up the Svalfart yellow pages and sought out a caterer, a fast caterer as the party was in 24 hours. She tracked down each one but they all seemed to need at least a month in advance, so time was fast running out when she spotted an announcement in the local post office for a free lance caterer who could seemingly whip up a feast with minimal overheads. The caterer was called Pipers Pies and he turned out to be a tall gangly heron like man with a very pointy chin and very sharp black eyes like that watchful wading bird. He spoke in a soft lilting accent that Nora couldnt pin point, it seemed Eastern European or maybe German, but she couldnt be sure. He organized everything in a trice and put Noras mind at rest that the event would be memorable.
It was memorable all right, but not in a good way.

Oh dear, can those two keep out of trouble? I thought marriage would have taken away any hope of adventure.

The night of the party came and it seemed to go wonderfuly, the food was delicious and even a conisewer like Halfwise who was used to the very best, was tickled pink. Nora and Eldo were gathered in the centre of the room gently blooming like roses as all their friends from town and the Station, brought them prezzies. There were many ooh's and aaaw's as the presents were opened, Biffo gave them a sardine tin (half empty) and Orwell got Nora some pink frothy undies, Eldo wasn't too happy but tried to hide the fact he could gladly have taken Orwell outside for a bit of duffing 101, but as Nora looked so happy and blushing, he filed that one away in the To Be Sorted Later tray. The strange looking caterer was there smiling to everyone and flitted around filling drinks and replenishing plates. "He is very efficient, isnt he? said Mrs Figg to Nora, "He reminds me of a Praying Mantis, and we his lunch the way he hovers over folk with those lanky limbs of his". Nora was too nervous to eat, the strain of being mein hostess was making her tummy clench and she just sipped the champers instead. Someone started playing the guitar, and everyone was surprised when Orwell started to sing in a pleasant baritone voice. "Ooohh Orwell" said one of the ladies cooing and simpering, "you are a bit like Michael Bolton without the mullet. It was a good thing he couldnt hear her. She might have ended up on his dissecting table rather earlier than she did.

I can see why AU!Eldo is upset over the undies, but on the other hand, it's not like Orwell is the one who will get to see them in action.

I'm looking forward to seeing where this story is heading!

Nora woke up, suddenly and completely. There was no inbetween, just one minute asleep and the next fully alert. She looked around the room and saw or heard nothing amiss, Eldo was asleep and it was still not yet dawn but that grey half light, cold and still. She got up with a strange intuition that all was not well in Svalfart.

She went back to the bedroom and shook Eldo, nothing. shook again. nothing. She called him, she shouted at him, she pushed him, she shook him again for good measure, but nothing would wake him up. He was undoubtedly asleep, deeply asleep, even one or two snores told her there was nothing wrong with him, but he was asleep. Nora dressed quickly and ran downstairs, the town was unearthly quiet, at this time of the morning normally people would be awake and starting their early morning perambulations, going to work or school, but there was no one about, only a cat and an early bird beginning the dawn chorus in the bushes. Nora drove with a forced calm to the station, determined to ask for backup and some medical advice. She flew through the front doors, but there was nobody in reception so she had to let herself in through the back door. There was nobody in the station. There was nobody in the carpark, there was not a soul moving and Nora felt like the Last Person Alive on Earth.

She ran through the town banging on doors and shouting for her friends to come to the doors. Nothing. She knew sometimes Chris the barman sometimes forgot to lock up after closing time so she barrelled down to Mrs Figgs pub, the door was open so she trotted up the stairs to the rooms upstairs where Mrs Figg lived. Without knocking Nora walked in and went straight to the bedroom. Mrs Figg was lying in her fake Baroque fourposter bed, gently whiffling and muttering in her sleep, thats odd thought Nora as she saw Mrs Figgs cats sitting on the bed looking grumpy, they cant wake her up to feed them. Mrs Figg refused to wake up, and growled slightly when Nora tried shouting in her ear. What shall I do? cried Nora to herself, what shall I do now?
Everyone had been at the party the night before, maybe its food poisoning or a virus or? or? bugger!
She went to see Orwell, he lived in the posh end of the town where the doctors, solicitors and adult film entertainers lived. Orwells house was in a terrace of Regency looking houses, I say looking because they had been built by a speculative building company in the 1980's during a phase when being a young fogey was trendy. Stephen Fry had bought one and after that had gone like hot cakes to the glitterati and footballers wives of the town. Nora banged on the brass knocker shaped like a Rottweilers head, and when nobody answered, (and normally some type of female in various states of undress would answer) she went to the side door, took a brick and threw it through the window.

Egads, woman - you'll win the contest by sheer volume alone. I can't even read it as fast as you write it.

but yes, I do consider myself to be a cone-sewar.

I knew you were a conisewer I bet you are sitting there in a silk kimono with a brandy in one hand and a cuban (cigar) in the other, in your library, the majordomo, called Philips will hem softly in your shell like ear and hold the computer while you type with one diamond ring encrusted pinkie.

wow....that's so accurate it's creepy.

Phillips went absolutely pale whilst reading it...

ooh, I like this one you wirte incredibly well, Mrs Figg!

Thanks Nora,,

Nora climbed in through the window being as careful as she could, and dropped onto the other side. In the drawing room she found Orwell and Halfwise slumped in a sofa, they had obviously been having an after party dvd session, as the machne was clicking and making irritated clunking noises, and various dvd's were strewn about the floor. Nora noticed abstractedly that they had been watching an episode of Buffy, the one where they all burst into song, Oh my favourite episode thought Nora beforing realizing there were more pressing concerns. As she bent down to turn the machine off, she noticed movement and on turning saw four pairs of bleery eyes staring at her. Orwell was looking from her to the broken glass on the carpet and back again. "what the? said Orwell, "Dont tell me you have had a bust up with your hubby, cos you can't live here, think of my reputation" he grinned. "Oh Orwell!" she cried and gave him a bear hug, and then gave halfwise a hug too. "I say what larks" said the half awake Halfwise. She explained everything that had happened and asked their advice, what on earth was going on?

Orwell had a theory that they had been drugged, Nora said she hadnt eaten anything the night before, and Orwell said in embarrased tones that he had eaten too much and had hurled a few chunks down the loo. Halfwise said that after his holiday in Miami where he had aquired a few intestinal worms and a tattoo of the Tree of Gondor on his bum, his stomach was pretty much as fireproof as Smaug's. They set out to see if anybody had woken up or if the mysterious caterer was still in town.
On the outskirts of Svalfart was a gypsy camp, it was never very large having only a few long standing families, but it had an atmosphere of not exactly menace but of the inhabitants keeping their affairs quietly away from the people of the town, they were seperate but yet part of the town landscape. The gypsy folk went to town only during the weekly market days and to see the doctor and the blacksmith. They didnt hold with cars and had feral ponies which would wander freely around the caravans. Orwell and Halfwise said they should start at the camp, being the Law they knew everyone, their quirks and the correct mode of address to the Elders. The Elders knew everyone and everything, they knew stuff before it happened, they knew what day to sow the harvest and what day to reap, they lived by the sun the moon and the seasons. They could tell you what day your prize cattle would give birth, they could tell you how many apples would fruit on a tree. They made their money by dowsing for water and making country remedies, they made corn dolls for the Harvest festivals and presided over the Well Dressing. There was no hocus pocus about them, they were the real deal, they scorned the fashionable townies who would come looking for their fortunes to be told, they didnt hold with the mumbo jumbo of the New Agers either.

My best mate keeps telling me I should watch that all-singing Buffy episode. How spooky Mrs Figg... Are you a Witch --- or a gypsy?

Heres one of the better songs from the Buffy episode Orwell

Nora, Orwell and Halfwise walked with some misgivings up to the entrance to the camp, some wolf like dogs came sniffing and snuffling round their legs, Halfwise was about to make a dash for it when the door of the nearest caravan creaked open and a familiar face peeped round the side, it was Farmer Dave. "what are you doing here?" said Nora, "the whole town is fallen into a freaky sleep, we need help, oh can you help? the words tumbled out and she fought down the panic that she had been courageously been trying to hide since the morning. Dave scratched his head, "I just came to see Mother McCavity about my hens, they aint laying since that Pied Heron chap strolled into town, with his piping and his dancing, whats he done now? the Elders are all in a fluster and a feather rufflin about him, by all accounts he's bad news, why did you go and invite him in to town? Dave said in a Fatherly way, well a bit like a Father who's daughter has just brought home something unsavory she met at the gym kinda way. "well how was I supposed to know all that?" said Nora getting miffed, "its not my fault, whats he done anyway, why is everyone asleep?
"I say I thought the Pied Piper was supposed to jolly well give rodents the heave ho, not us human sapiens" said Halfwise, "anyhoo I had better be tootling pip old chaps Phillips gets frightfully worried when I dont eat his burnt offerings, gets the hump he does something chronic".
He backed away, turned and trotted with jogging step down back to the town.

I loved the Buffy musical! I kind of giggled happily through the whole thing. Yet somehow it sort of vanished from cultural history with barely a ripple.

yes I loved it too, and I normally find musicals boring, but Buffy's musical was uplifting and they all had surprisingly great voices, there was something very 70s about the songs, I liked Giles's song as well.

Mrs Figg wrote:Heres one of the better songs from the Buffy episode Orwell

It has got me totally fucked how someone I barely know can know me so well, Mrs Figg? Girls, folk music, and old fashioned romantic sensuality (not sex!) in a modern aspect! Hey! Did I know you in a previous life?

I just finished watching this for the third time. I'm a 'sensualist'! What a surprise!

Mrs Figg wrote:yes I loved it too, and I normally find musicals boring, but Buffy's musical was uplifting and they all had surprisingly great voices, there was something very 70s about the songs, I liked Giles's song as well.

I've written an adult musical and two complete childrens musicals, Mrs Figg. Wash your mouth out with soap!

halfwise wrote:I loved the Buffy musical! I kind of giggled happily through the whole thing. Yet somehow it sort of vanished from cultural history with barely a ripple.

The Giggling Physicist! Well, I never....

i loved it in part because they were not singers (though I think the guy who plays Giles actually is). So they had to work their heads off, and threw their hearts in it to put it out there. It was like cheering on your school play...it was a triumph, even if you can't compare it to broadway or the west end.

I will have to watch it, what with all the raving reviews! But I haven't even got through all of the Dark Planet Day contributions yet... You know, I remember when Forumshire was a smaller place...I'm not saying things were better or worse then, but they were simpler.