WHOLESOME TALES [2]

It's true that wrangler from Bree
Was a spring chicken compared to me
And I got quite a shock
(And little bit hot!)
When she decided to sit on my knee.

Edward Lear on a Moderate Day

Wisey Banks

Chapter Twenty Two
In which Julia and Azriel continue to discuss the Finer Points of their Trade

Unlike Orwell - who had gone red with annoyance at Aleek - the two hard worker fairies (Julia and Azriel that is) ignored that vapid young Whelsh fairy and continued to discuss the Finer Points of their trade, quite colourfully as you will see, but by no means gratuitously.

"Eeel wrangling, of course, is a solid trade and quite profitable," Julia was saying. "But making money from it - good money I say - is by no means a reason not to enjoy yourself."

"Yes, some think a bit of eel wrangling, if done for remunerative purposes, is somehow unrespectable or something."

"In my hole no eel is unwelcome nor do I see him as unrespectable, never, no matter how well endowed - financially - it's owner might be!"

"I'd keep your voice down," Amarie said quietly coming forth to walk with the two less stuck-up fairies, "I fear those ragamufffins David and Halfwise are listenning to your conversations and, to judge by their goofish expressions, are even now having salacious thoughts meanwhile."

"Oh we don't mind," Julia laughed. "They're no strangers to eel wrangling, neither of them - least that's what I heard."

"And what they do in the privacy of their bowers is their own business anyway, that's my opinion, those depraved little cretins," Azriel laughed.

"Quite right, Azriel, though for a smallish fee, I think we might show them some solid professional wrangling."

"Indubitably."

"Well, I'm not sure I approve," Amarie said.

"You certainly have become quiet and ... err... circumspect of late," Julia commented. "I remember you once for a lady of gleaming eyes and a saucy disposition."

"It's that husband of hers," Azriel said fatalistically. "I think he must have pulled good ol' Ame's into line. Can't think why else she has become so meek lately. It's like innuendoes have been banned at her house."

"I've heard her hubby is an old fashioned chauvinistic type, likes his porridge hot and his floors polished to a mirror-like sheen. Isn't that right, Amarie?"

"I'll have you know I'm a modern woman. I kowtow to no man... I don't! Stop looking at me with those four supercilious eyes of yours."

"My eyes dont mean to be supercilious, neither of them," Julia said vaguely, "But the eyes reveal the soul, that's true."

"Mine too," Azriel agreed, "Both of 'em. But never mind, Amarie. I'm quite disgusting enough for the both of us. Go on, be as prim as you like. It's Forumshire. Be yourself!"

Amarie fell back a few spots in the line of Questers. It appeared she wanted to say something - something tart, or sharp, or provacative - but everyone could tell she was afraid of what her hubby might think of her if she did.

{{{"If this doesn't lure her out of her malaise, nothing will," Orwell whispered to Petty.

"Ock tha noo... keep me oot of it!" Petty pleaded, suddenly fearful}}}.

"Weren't you talking about eel wrangling, Ladies?" David asked eagerly. "Not that I was eavesdropping."

"Nor me neither," Halfy put in hurriedly.

"No, I'm not in the mood anymore," Julia said. "Of my goodness! What's that crouched in the trees ahead?"

"I think it's a squirrel," Eldo answered squinting in the darkness.

"No, not that, I mean the hunched squat thing up ahead in the darkness... It appears to be a ravernous monster of some sort."

"Oh sweet Eru eat my socks!" Elthir exclaimed. "We might be in for an actual adventure!"

"Judging by what's gone down so far, I doubt it," Lance grumbled and rolled his eyes. "I mean, this whole fiasco has been a fiasco, don't you think, people?"

"I wonder if that squatting monster is about to kill Lance?" Orwell mused aloud.... and he looked like he meant it....

Azriel and Archet Bugle

Chapter Twenty Three
The Exciting Crouching Monster Adventure (and Orwell's Dream)

Well, all I can say is: it was a horrible monster crouching there in the dark. One of the direst evilest beasts Morgoth had ever created in his dark dungeons back in the First Age. It was watching the Questers very closely, but as it had already eaten, it let them pass unhindered, though for a second or two the Questers thought they might in fact be in for a very exciting adventure.

That night, they stayed at one of Odo's Murkygreywood Resorts, and Orwell went to bed unsuspecting of what was about to befall. Orwell often went to bed early when he was at home. But he wasn't a boring old fart. He locked the perfectly round door securely behind him, glad that Julia had gone off to party with the others in one of Odo's Party Halls.

Even as his eyelids closed, he found himself in a strange world, but not an anachronistic one, because this world was a totally different world to his own; totally imaginary and totally unanachronstic (totally unachronistic by definition)(though who can say?)

He was a Man - not a stout hobbit with good looks and rounded buttocks - and he was a handsome man (so to speak)(in his opinion). He wore strange clothes, jeans and a t'shirt and sneakers. Presumably he was in a world where older citizens could wear young people's clothes. There was a calendar on the wall of the room he was in.

"Wednesday the 19th of December, 2012?" Orwell mouthed. "Sweet Eru! What the fuck is December?"

Then suddeny it was as if his eyes were uncovered and he knew exactly who he was and where he was.

The telephone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"I'm Lin from the hospital. Is Gertrude there?" {{{'Gertrude' for the purposes of this tale).

"No. She's out at the moment."

Is that Gertrude's husband?"

"Yes, it is."

"I'm ringing up about her day surgery tomorrow. I just wanted to let her know she needs to be in no later than 11.30am."

"Okay."

"Can you let her know a couple of other things?"

"Okay."

"She can't eat or drink anything after 7.00."

"Okay." {{{Orwell was beginning to have the urge to say, "Yes, Miss."}}}

"And she can't wear any makeup."

"Oh - okay."

"And I know it sounds funny but she'll need to dry her belly button with a cotton bud after she showers."

"Okaaaay."

"And no jewellery."

"Yep. Okay."

"But she can wear her wedding ring if she wants to."

"Okaaay..."

Shortly after, Orwell hung up the telephone. He said, "How the fuck am I going to remember all that?"

Gertrude came home {{{from shopping }}} soon after.

The next morning Orwell suddenly remembered something. What was it? Oh yes!

"The hospital rang last night."

"Oh yes?"

"Yeah, they told me to tell you a few things."

"Yes?"

And (amazingly perhaps) Orwell remembered the few things, and when he got to the jewellery part he said: "But you can wear your wedding ring if you want."

"Can I?"

"Yes. But maybe you shouldn't."

"I think I will. "

"I guess they're being careful that your jewellery doesn't go missing. I don't know why they said you can keep your wedding ring on. Queer business. Maybe it's best to leave it at home."

Gertrude started taking off the ring and thought again. She wriggled it back down to it's usual place on her finger.

Watching her do it, Orwell thought, 'Queer business!' But he put it down to that mysterious woman-think that he and his male friends sometimes speculated about and he let it pass without questioning further - which is always a wise thing to do when men encounter episodes of mysterious woman-think (apparently).

Not long after he drove Gertrude down to the hospital. On the way, he asked, "Are you worried at all?"

"No, it'll be alright. It's only day surgery."

"Will they have to put you out?"

"I hope so!"

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes. I'll be right."

Gertrude put her hand on his hand which just then rested on the console between them while he steered with his other hand.

Orwell looked down at her hand and saw the wedding ring. And he experienced a funny sensation in his chest. Hard to explain.... And then suddenly he knew...!!!!!

Oh my Gawwwwd!

He woke up and looked around his room nervously.

Had anyone seen?

Not that anyone could really have seen what was going on inside him.

Nonetheless, he was glad to find himself alone in his room, his momentary loss of masculine manly manhood unrevealed.

"No one must ever know," he told the darklit room, "Never!"

And no one ever did.

???

I'll wait for Ally to interpret this one, it's beyond me.

Hmmmm... I think a hugging smiley might be in order now, but it seems most of your smileys are more fitting for humorous occations. I'll look for one when I get home.

I think the correct male response to this is: "Eeeeey you!" and a punch in the shoulder followed by "Now how about 'em Rangers [or insert sport/team of choice]!"

(And I really have a lot of Wholesome Tales to catch up on! Judging from my posts laterly I think I need a boost of morality and... such.)

Amarië wrote:I think the correct male response to this is: "Eeeeey you!" and a punch in the shoulder followed by "Now how about 'em Rangers [or insert sport/team of choice]!"

My thoughts exactly, Amarie. I don't know what gets into Ol' Anon sometimes... And I hope I never do....

Of course, Ally...








{{{ }}}

As always, whilst I was groping for words you nailed it Ally.

{{{ }}}

Orwell wrote:

Amarië wrote:I think the correct male response to this is: "Eeeeey you!" and a punch in the shoulder followed by "Now how about 'em Rangers [or insert sport/team of choice]!"

My thoughts exactly, Amarie. I don't know what gets into Ol' Anon sometimes... And I hope I never do....

Some things are best not to know I guess...

Found a hug!

well that went off at a tangent? I hope Gertrude is ok?

Well, of course I've spoken to Ol' Anon --- especially about depicting the fictional Orwell as a namby pamby sort....

Errmmm... but he did seem to think that he should add that even though "Gertrude' is entirely fictional - as is Wholesome Tales Orwell! - he is of the namby pamby view that all went well and though fictional Gertrude is not 100% at moment (and needs fictional Orwell to keep a doting caring eye on her because he does now and then remember how precious she is and how fond of her he really is) but she should be back to normal (fingers crossed) in a few days or so.

The real Orwell (ME that is!) however, would have suggested she 'Catch the bus to the hospital, Love, and toughen up a bit meanwhile!" as he was walking out the door to go down the ol' Duck and Muck...

Well it's good that we got that sorted and that I didn't get even the slightest misty eyed in the process. It's been obvious for a long long time that fictional Orwell oozes with love and respect for his fictional Gertrude. Gives real Orwell a bad rep!

Anyhow. Eyyy, you! How about 'em crazy Mayans and their calender huh? Cheers!

I'm still standing! Great idea for a song really... "I'm still standing after all this time..." Mmmm... sounds familiar somehow...

You haven't been drinking enough then!

(Huh? What's this? Apparently I am filling in for Petty, not sure how that happened. There's like... a vacuum that needs to be filled with Buckie jokes. Is it a Forumshire law of nature perhaps? )

Forumshire has a strange affect on people, not least the Wholesome Tales Thread... Be afraid, Amarie... I know I am...

Chapter Twenty Four
Knock knock knocking... eerily...

Orwell tried to stay awake but he couldn't. I mean, it was already well after 9.00p.m by the Forumshire Reckoning...

Knock knock knock...

Orwell sat bolt upright.

"Who's there?"

"What the...?" came a familiar bad tempered voice. "Hey! Open up, Orwie!"

"Oh Julia... Oh no... the door... it seems to be stuck..."

"Never mind, I'll kick it in..."

Screeek...... screeeeeek.... screek....

"Are you sliding a wardrobe against the door?"

"No... why would I do that?"

Knock knock knock...

Orwell turned about sharply. There was nothing at the window. Nothing! But...

Knock knock knock...

Sure enough the knocking was knocking at the window.

Orwell checked his knees. No, it wasn't his knees. (Not that he thought it might be, him being very brave and all).

"Will you open the ... .... .... ....{{{various colourful words}}}... !!!!"

Orwell moved the wardrobe from the door. He had no idea how it had got there. Oh yes, he must have been looking for a lost coin or something. Yes, that was right.

Orwell unlocked the bolts on the door. Julia swept in, her face flushed and her garments askew. It was as if she had been dancing wildly half full of plonk on Puck Hill with Satyrs and bisexual Naiads --- which is exactly what she had been doing in fact. And the exertions (and other activities) had not worn her out, only got her hotter, if you know what I mean, and I'm sure you do.

"Stop!" Orwell cried.

"Don't try that headache crap on me again!"

"No, no -- can you hear that queer knocking..?"

Julia took a hard look.

"No, not my knees," Orwell grumbled indignantly. "The window!"

"Oh Sweet Eru eat my cherry flavoured suspender belt and minty undies! You're right! I wonder what it could be?"

"Don't go over there..." Orwell squealed (in a manly voice).

"Fraidey cat. It'll just be a twig from a tree or something else tapping in the breeze..."

"I'm not afraid!"

Knock knock knock...

"Oh goodness. You silly hobbit. It is a tree knocking in the breeze! As usual - an anti-climax," Julia sighed. "What is it with this Tale?"

Orwell did not answer.

"Why aren't you answering, Orwie?" she asked, turning around. Well, not really asking him, because he had disappeared.

"I suspect Queer Magic," Julia said, suddenly uneasy.

Next thing, Amarie appeared in the doorway. "What's up with Orwell?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's hiding under my bed."

Julia laughed. "He is such a fraidey cat."

"Oh no. He told me he was searching for an escaped bandersnatch." Amarie laughed. (Which was rather rude of her, don't you think?)

They suddenly heard a loud screech.

"What was that?" Julia asked, "That loud girly screech sounded like Orwell's?"

"Which is no real surprise really," Amarie said, "There being a rather nasty bandersnatch under my bed!"

"What exactly is a bandersnatch, Amarie?"

"Do you remember that vile ferocious looking beast crouching under the trees at the beginning of the last chapter?"

"You don't say!"Julia gasped. "I hope it doesn't eat my Orwie!"

"I'm afraid it looked hungry."

"Oh dear!... ... ... .... .... .... Amarie?"

"Yes?"

"Why was the bandersnatch under your bed?"

"A lady never tells what she does in her bower, you know that."

"That's true.. ... .. Sooo... Should we try to rescue him?"

"Okay."

"Now?"

"I think so."

"Do you think this chapter is beginning to drag a bit?"

"I think so."

"We could go to Puck Hill."

"Excellent idea."

"Ock za noo!" Petty cried rushing all a'fluster into the room. "Awlwall huz been bittan bye a bondasnooch!"

"Not even your ridiculous accent can save this chapter, I'm afraid," Julia said sadly.

"Ock..."

"Oh we better go and save him," Amarie said with a yawn. "You know how snooty he gets when he's ignored..."

And so that's exactly what they did.

"Oh we better go and save him," Amarie said with a yawn. "You know how snooty he gets when he's ignored..."

Chapter Twenty Five
Another chapter where something exciting might yet happen.

Orwell was quite proud of how heroically he had fought the bandersnatch, and as Julia dabbed ointment on his bitten bottom and the scratches on the back of his legs, he said, "One day they'll write Sagas about me."

"Yes, I'm sure they will."

"Of course, I'll be out of action for the rest of the night. If you know what I mean, Jules?"

And Julia did know what he meant.

"What happened to the bandersnatch in the end?" asked Eldo who was sitting by the window in Orwell's room, having been alerted by the earlier ruckus. "It looked rather small... Did it dive own a rat hole or something?"

"You know nothing of bandersnatches," Orwell answered tersely. "Especially when you get bitten by one in the back passage."

"Back passage?"

"Orwell was running away down the back passage of the resort," Amarie explained judiciously.

"I was charging at the bandersnatch, I'll have you know," Orwell said indignantly. "How was I to know it was behind me?"

"What? Didn't you meet it under Amarie's bed?" Azriel put in, standing in the doorway.

"Well, I thought it had fled the room at the mere sight of me," Orwell told her sneeringly. "How was I to know it had stayed exactly where it was? Well, at least until it chased me out of the room.... I was a mere victim of circumstances..."

"As we all are when it comes to Wholesome Tales," Amarie yawned.

"But what happened to the bandersnatch, though?" Eldo wanted know, clearly thinking there was an interesting tale to be told.

"Well, when it jumped on Orwell and it bit his bottom and scratched the back of his legs," Julia began, "Orwell let out such a hysterical outcry it stunned the vile thing. And while it stood in the passage looking amazed at how such a girly sound could come out of anyone, let alone a grown hobbit, Amarie hit it with a broom and chased it out of the resort."

"That doesn't sound that interesting, does it?" Eldo said.

"No, I'm afraid not," Amarie agreed.

"So, I guess nothing really exciting happened in this chapter as usual then..."

"No, not in the last chapter, nor this, I'm afraid," Julia said sadly.

"I almost died!" Orwell yelled. "Nothing exciting! .... owwwww! Will try not to dab so hard, Julia... that was a big ouchy....."

"There's always the next chapter, I suppose," Azriel commented hopefully. Azriel, of course, was still relatively new to Wholesome Tales.

" Amarie (a secretive and sly fairy who always wore diaphonous see-through clothing - usually pink or another soft pastel - which never concealed any of her secrets whatsoever), "

Hooohooo! I'm glad I forgot to read this story untill now, it'll be an entertaining Christmas.

I have given up on the stories..

"So, I guess nothing really exciting happened in this chapter as usual then..."

"There's always the next chapter, I suppose," Azriel commented hopefully. Azriel, of course, was still relatively new to Wholesome Tales.

"You know nothing of bandersnatches," Orwell answered tersely. "Especially when you get bitten by one in the back passage."