The Hobwit

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This thread is fun, but rather nuts I have to say...

Love Duck? Try calling Thorin that at TORn and you are in for a hefty virtual slap.

This thread is one of the most fun on here Which reminds me, I haven't got to reread your parody, Orwell I'm currently rereading the Hobbit, which shouldn't take too long to finish, so after that would be a good time for a reread of both your and Paul's parodies

Chapter Sevenjm
Queer Business (continued)


They were tired, grumpy, hungry, unhappy, sneezy, dopey, itchy and sleepy by the time they reached the hedge.

"Why can't we all go up to Brawny's Anglo-Saxon style hall together?" Bumburr wanted to know with sweat pouring off his brow and his enormous tummy flapping around like a deflated helium balloon. "I'm starving."

"Who said anything about an Anglo-Saxon style hall?" Grandelf asked in annoyance.

"You did," Bango said.

Grandelf gave him a dirty look. But when he spoke, he turned to address Bumburr. "Well, you'll have to wait. It won't kill you. You're not about to fade away, are you?"

"But how long?"

"Let me think. Say - five minutes... no...." Grandelf began to count on his fingers, but Maths wasn't his strong suit. "Damn! Look, this is how we'll do it. You guys must come in pairs every five minutes. Bumburr, you'll have to wait five minutes after the last pair of dwarfs come. All right?"

Bumburr looked aggrieved but said nothing. Grandelf detected a glint of defiance in the dwarf's steely blue eyes. "I'll turn you into a cupcake if you don't obey me, so watch it! Now, come along Mister Bigguns."

Bango could hear bees buzzing as they passed through a rustic gate and followed a picturesque cobbled path that wound through lovely well paced resinous trees. Bango was caught in two minds. One mind enjoyed the walk in this semi-natural open woodland, the other part wondered with some trepidation on what Brawny Bjorn might be like, though he did assume he would be brawny, and, undoubtably, Nordic.

They came out of the trees and a host of creatures gambolled up to them.  To Bango's surprise (he had expected intelligent Narnian greyhounds for some reason known only to him) the creatures were all mixed up, for they had originally come from Slaughterhouse Five. So there were dogcats, badgergeese, rabbitlions, pelicanbears, and gobblerdwarfs, and a host of others that Bango could not work out.

"Sweet Alluvia eat my galoshes!" Bango exclaimed. "What's this all about?"

"Shush, Bango," Grandelf hissed. "Whatever you do, don't talk about the creatures in any sort of querlous or critical manner!"

"But..."

"All you need to know is that Bjorn is kind to animals - especially cruely treated ones - who he does not see as monsters but as poor souls worthy of care. Personally, I'd burn the abominations, but then.. shush... shush..."

A catdog said, "Who in tarnation are you cowdies?"

"Just weary travellers my good fellow," Grandelf smiled. "Will you kindly take us to your Master."

"He doesn't like uninvited guests," the catdog warned.

"But we've invited ourselves," Grandelf told him.

"Oh... all right then."

And so, escorted by all the mixed-up creatures, Grandelf and Bango were taken around the back of Brawny Bjorn's house, which was very much like an Anglo-Saxon style hall.

They found Bjorn sitting on a log with a huge axe close to hand, and a huge woodpile close to the other one.

"Who is this then?" he said in a big growly voice.

"I am Grandelf," Grandelf said as he walked boldly forward. "And this is Mister Bigguns... Bango Bigguns, a Hobwit..."

"Grandelf? I know the name. You look like a wizard." Brawny Bjorn scratched his big blond bearded face and frowned. "Weren't you that Grandelf who was intimately acquainted with the Necromuncher a few years back...?

"Yes, back when he was a nice fellow, of course," Grandelf answered. "But not after he revealed himself to be a bad person."

"Good, because I don't like bad people like her."

"I know."

"I kill bad people like her." (Bango was a bit perplexed by this 'her' business, but he was so in awe of Brawny Bjorn, he said nothing).

"I know."

"I killed all those bad people at Slaughterhouse Five too - except Kurt, of course. He did his best to alleviate the situation, as all men of conscience must."

"I know."

"You do seem an agreeable person, I'll give you that."

"Indeed, I am," Grandelf grinned.

"And I do seem to remember you... Or do you just remind me of someone?" Bjorn frowned again.

"You may mistake me for my cousin, Rasputin. He lives not too far distant in the Wildwood."

"Oh Rasputin. Yes. He's that rather curious wizard with penetrating eyes."

"That's him."

"Not a bad chap. Talks to birds and beasts like they're his friends."

"Indeed. Loves a good animal he does. I'm a bit the same way inclined - especially birds, though I prefer big birds to little ones... not that I care less for little birds, mind."

"Mmm... I'm curious. What brings a wandering wizard and a hobwit to my door?"

"It's a long tale."

"Then take a seat on the grass at my feet." Bjorn clapped his huge murderous hands. "Pumpkin," he said to a giant goannafrog, "Would you mind bringing some scrummy honey bikkies, pet?"

Grandelf and Bango settled themselves on the ground.

"Proceed," Bjorn instructed.

"Well it all began back in Hobwiton," Grandelf began, "Well, long before that actually..."

Chapter Seven
Queer Business (continued)

"Long before I ever landed in Hobwiton,"Grandelf said. "The Lord, Alluvia, sent five of us over here on our Mission..."  

"Five of you?" Bjorn wanted to know gruffly.

"There was me and the Head of Our Order, Sparrowhawk, and there was, of course,  Rasputin," Grandelf answered solemnly. "We landed at the Silver Havens and proceeded overland from there..."

"That's only three," Bjorn said gruffly counting on his fingers. "What about the other two?"

"What? Oh you mean the Blue Wizards. Well, they took off south. I can tell you, Alluvia will be pissed with them if they ever get back to Eleanor. The trouble is, they love hot weather and dark skinned women..."

"Don't we all," Bango said under his breath, becoming quite interested in Grandelf's tale.

"And your Mission?" Bjorn wanted to know.

"I can't tell you that yet. Only Alluvia knows the reason."

"And you, Grandelf."

"What?"

You would know..."

"What?"

"You --- You know the reason, don't you?"

"Of course, I do," Grandelf said on his dignity. "And if all goes well, I will be forgiv... err.. I will return in all glory to Highmost Eleanor."

"What were the names of these two Blue wizards?"

"It doesn't matter, as they don't come into this story. Anyway, we set off and Sparrowhawk befriended those horse riding Anglo-Saxons that live in the plains beyond the Opening of Bogun. They gave him an ancient tower to dwell in where he holds his councils..."

"Gee willikens! Who the heck are these fellows?" Bjorn asked suddenly as Thorny and Poin arrived.

"Don't mind them," Grandelf said quickly. "Anyway, Rasputin headed off to Wildwood and made acquaintance will all manner of flora and fauna. And I became a wandering wizard - though I'm not a wizard really - nor  a Man - I'm a Mair actually.."

"From where?"

"From Eleanor."

"Are there mayors in Eleanor?" Bjorn asked in surprise.

"Yes.  Lots of them."

"So Eleanor has many villages and towns, does it?"

"Pardon?"

"I think he thinks you were a mayor and not a Mair," Bango put in helpfully.

"A Mair and not a Mair?" Grandelf said, clearly perplexed.

Bango sighed, having been through all this nonsense before in Chapter One. "He thinks you mean 'Mayor' as in being the 'Mayor' of a town."

"How stupid," Grandelf grumped. "I'm a Mair of the Mairen folk."

Bjorn looked blank. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Never mind," Grandelf sighed. "Anyway, I wandered the wide lands trying to find out what was going on."

"In relation to what?"

"In relation to the Big Black Shadow, but I told you I wasn't ready to speak of that yet."

"You must mean Sourpuss the Shimmerer, sometimes known as 'Big Black' or 'The Shadow of Enormity', and by Halfthings like little Bango here, the 'Tall Shadow'. Is that right, Mister Bigguns?"

Bango nodded solemnly, and a chill ran up his short spine at the mere thought.

"Well, yes... but let's not go into that just now, as I said as it doesn't come into this tale...well, it does and it doesn't..."

Bjorn's expression darkened. "Did you know people around here suspect that she's one and the same as the Necromuncher."

"'She'! 'Her'! What's that mean, Sir?" Bango piped up. "I thought the Necromuncher was a guy. You've met him, Grandelf. Is the Necromuncher a guy or a girl?"

"The Necromuncher is a Mysterious chap, if you can call him a chap," Grandelf said quietly, almost conspirationally. "That's all I'm prepared to say at this stage... Oh here's Snodgrass and Biffo! Sit down fellows."

Snodgrass and Biffo sat down on the grass. Bjorn gave them a bemused glance. "Are more dwarfs going to turn up?"

"Probably," Grandelf said vaguely. "Anyway, I happened to meet the Necromuncher - this was before I knew he was evil - and we spent some time together. One day we were sitting on his verandah enjoying the sunset when he said 'Smug the Firedrake would be a wonderful asset in my evil plans...'  And then he stopped in mid-speech. I can tell you, I was quite taken aback. 'Smug the Firedrake, did you say?' I asked. 'No, I said, I feel snug and need a break,' he said. I said, 'I could have sworn you said 'Smug the Firedrake would be a wonderful asset in my evil plans.' 'What evil plans could I possibly be hatching, Grandy my love?' he laughed. 'Look at my breasts? Tell me! Are they the breasts of an evil woman?' And he laughed again. And I laughed too. Though, looking back now, I guess I shouldn't have. All I can say is, it all made perfect sense at the time... Oh here's two other dwarfs," Grandelf exclaimed.

The two other dwarfs came and sat down.

"How many dwarfs are there going to be?" Bjorn asked.

"Who can tell?" Grandelf said archly.

Bjorn and Bango exhanged a weary glance.

"Well, as things turned out, I met Thorny's father, or grandfather - still not sure which - and I obtained a key and a map. Not long after that, I left the Necromuncher and began wandering again."

"What do you mean by 'I left the Necromuncher'?" Bjorn asked.

"We had a falling out over something I'd rather not talk about," Grandelf said vaguely.

"Were you two an item or something?"  Snodgrass asked and Poin sniggered.

Grandelf looked a bit upset for a moment, as if remembering past heartaches, but then he collected himself. "Where was I? Oh yes, I left the Necromuncher and happened to stumble over a troup of Dwarf Musicians. One of who was Thorny Oakenshield... No need to bow, Thorny."

"I know the name," Bjorn said with lowering brow. "Aren't you the Heir of Solitaire Mountain?"

"I am," Thorny said proudly.

"Oh here's some more dwarfs," Grandelf interupted.

It was Bwalin and Dwarfen.

Bjorn fixed his eyes on Dwarfen. He sniffed. "Why is there a girl dwarf dressed up as a boy?"

"Best not ask," Bwalin said amiably, and Bjorn smiled down at him. "You seem a nice dwarf," said he.

"Excuse me," Grandelf said. "Back to my tale, or else the whole throng will be here before I finish."

"Throng?" Bjorn asked suspiciously. "Isn't a 'throng' thirteen?"

"No that's a 'parrty'- a 'throng' is eleven, I think," Bwalin said.

"So there are going to be eleven dwarfs all up?" Bjorn asked.

"No, 'thirteen', " Bwalin told him.

"So why don't we wait until they all get here,"Bjorn said helpfully. "And then you can finish your tale Grandelf without all these interuptions."

"That sounds reasonable enough in principle," Grandelf agreed. "But it won't be anywhere near as interesting to do it that way."

(I think, dear reader, that we have to agree with him on that).

Grandelf then went on to tell Bjorn about the whole Hobwiton business and the killing of the Great Gobbler and the loss of Bango and his mysterious reappearance with a bangle up his crack. Grandelf had just got down to the part where the Sparrowhawks had rescued them when the last three dwarfs arrived - the others having turned up intermittently.

"So we have thirteen dwarfs have we?" Bjorn said at last.

"Indeed, we do,"  Grandelf proclaimed, giving Bumburr a dirty look.

"I guess you'll all want my help then," Bjorn sighed. "Okay. But I warn you, you must not leave my Anglo-Saxon style Hall tonight. Queer things happen at night here."

Bango had a sinking feeling at that, especially when he caught a queer glint in the glance Biffo gave him just then.


to be continued...    

Glad you're continuing the story, Orwell. It'll be a while till I get to read the new bits you've written, but when I'm done rereading the real Hobbit I'll read the parody from the start again. More interesting and fun for me, and hopefully better feedback to you

Thanks Ringo.

Ol' Anon kind of thinks he needs to finish it - over time and when the mood is upon him, he says - even if I'm the only one reading it. Trying to amuse me is a hard enough task for him without worrying too much if others enjoy this as well. If they do, it is a bonus, of course.

Let him take whatever time he needs - better to have inspired chapters coming every now and then than forced writing every day, as the (newly invented) saying goes

Too true, Young Sage.. too True.

Though, "Oh I better get off my fat arse and write some more" may not tecnically be decribed as 'inspiration' as such. Not that 'inspiration' can be really defined, I guess.

 

Chapter Seven
Queer Business (continued)


Bango was glad to be in a comfortable environment again. While he dreaded the approaching night he managed to enjoy the bright sunshine of early afternoon and the honey biscuits Brawny Bjorn's half-beasts supplied. He quickly befriended one of them, a half-elf-woman half human-woman named Penelope.

"How ever did you become such a peculiar combination?" Bango asked as they sat under a spreading oak outside Bjorn's rustic abode.

Penelope smiled radiantly, her white skin seeming to shimmer like carbuncles.

"Oh it's not such a disatrous story," she answered plainly. "You see, there was once two friends, Penny and Lopez. Penny was a lovely human Maiden from the High Kingdom of Gonnorea, and Lopez a beautiful Valerian  Elf of Fingerling's House in Eleanor. One day they ran off to join the Circus, and a Magician cut them in half in a Magic trick gone wrong. A lovely chap called Kurt Von Gutterick or similar offered to secure them back together in his Slaughterhouse. Unfortunately, he put my human top on Lopez's bottom half, and Lopez's top half on my bottom half. Most people, of course, think Kurt only created toilet-plunger shaped aliens, but that's a clear distortion of the historical mainifestation as it comes down to us through the lens of memory and time."

"For all that, you're a very beautiful Elf-human Maiden, Penelope," Bango offered gallantly.

"That is very kind of you to say."

"I shouldn't like to pry, but are Elvïsh women very different from Human women?"

"Do you mean, in my case, downstairs?"

Bango blushed.

Penelope laughed. "Of course we're not - not in purely physical terms anyhow - think of Beren and Luthien and you'll know what I mean - it's just that the bottom half of me is Immortal but my top half is Mortal."

"Does that mean your top half will die but your bottom half will live forever?"

"Only Alluvia knows the answer to that," Penelope said with a fetching smile, but Bango was sure he detected a hint of wistful sadness in that smile.

They fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.


to be continued...

{({Aaaah --- that might do the trick!  }}}

  I recently finished chapter 5, Orwell, so getting there Any new chapters in the writing?

The market seems a bit saturated at the moment... and I do tend to only write new stuff when folk ask... off-the-cuff you know... I'll have a think.... With my Forumshire stuff, I'm a hand to mouth writer - so unless the mouths are hungry... ... there's never too much in the way of planning, you see...  

{{{This Wobbit talk has got me thinking a bit, actually, and I've just finished reading Chapter 1 and 2 of my spoof again. With some further editing, I reckon it wouldn't be bad at all --- well, it would still be bad, but maybe good bad, what!}}}

{{{Oh Paul, I still haven't read the Wobbit. Nothing against your tale --- but I want to finish mine before I read yours. Don't want to steal your ideas, you see!  }}}

Chapter Seven (continued)

In the late afternoon, Bango Bigguns and the others found themselves standing in awe inside Brawny Bjorn's huge Anglo-Saxon Hall. Brands burned hotly on the tree trunk pillars that marched down the length. Huge tables stretched the length as well. A great fire was at the end of the hall. And there were other things worthy of description in all their awesomeness, but I think that's enough description for now. Oh yes, there were lots of timber framed beds too. But I think that's enough for now, as I said.

Brawny Bjorn's half-beasts brought food for them. And mead. Oh the mead! It was thick as porridge and was drunk with a spoon, and was full of honey and whatever cereal is used to make mead. All the afternoon the Company ate and made merry and as the night descended the dwarves locked the doors and soon broke into song.

"The errant wind on withered heath,
Fing'ring bushes and cracks beneath,
Flapping skirts and frilly sleeves,
Biting men without their greaves,

While inside we frollicked in Halls quite airy,
(This way back in the time of Faery),
Halls not of weathered wood like Brawny's,
They were Halls of Stone, the Halls of Horny.

Out of the wind, so sharp and chilly,
Singing songs quite long and silly,
Horny reposed in lordly grace,
His Queen's seat upon his face.

It was a night of fun and games,
When like a storm across the plains,
And up the rocks of Mount Solitaire,
The evil Smug caught us unawares,

Sweeping in by our foremost door -
Which was not guarded, what's more!
Woe betide! Such complacent fools! -
Smug, attracted by our family jewels,

All flapping wings and firey breath,
Put about three quarters of us to death,
Roasting some, and basting others,
Eating our sisters and our brothers,

Then piling up all our gold and stuff -
And when it was piled high enough -
Laying there both day and night,
Eating rocks - we think that's right.

And now our caves are all smokey,
And Firedrakey - not all blokey! -
And here we sit in Brawny's hall,
Oh how we mourn our dwarfsh fall!"

Bango lay back on his bed, quite impressed. The song had actually been slightly sensible. But that's the thing with unrealistic tales translated into song - sometimes they become a little serious too. I think it's what I call the 'Rhyme Risk'. A bit like that road you step out onto. You think you're heading off down to Madame Hotpot's Emporium of Painted Lasses and Laddies but end up at Church instead.

Bango fell off to sleep. They all did. Everyone was exausted. Except Grandelf, of course. In the middle of the night Bango woke to the sound of scuffling and growling and cats having violent sex on the roof, and he was glad the door was locked. He saw Grandelf smoking near the main door. Grandelf in silhouette looked a rather gangrel creature. Then Bango fell asleep again. He woke once more and Gandelf was gone. Then he drifted off again and dreamed he was being tickled rather naughtily by a beautiful elf with coarse fingers. He giggled in his sleep. When Bango woke again, Biffo was snuggling him. Bango quickly jumped up and found his trousers and swore off mead ever after.

The door opened suddenly to let in a bright splash of sunshine and Brawny Bjorn's half-beasts came in and fed them up on honey bread and honey wine and honey milk. And Bango soon forgot all about Biffo - it wasn't the first life event he had to put down to experience - and consumed enough food to feed a Rugby Team. All the dwarfs did too. The food was delicious, as you would expect. The kind of food you would likely deeply regret not having any more when you're starving to death, possibly some time in a forest.  

Grandelf reappeared. "I'm back," he cried triumphantly as he strode into the hall.

"I didn't even know he'd gone anywhere," Snodgrass said looking up from his bowl of pickled honey bugs.

Thorny blinked, just as surprised. "Where have you been?"

Grandelf pulled up a stool and got stuck into a platter of honey crabs. "I'll tell you once I've eaten, chaps," he said, in a plainly obvious attempt to generate some interest in what he would tell them.

The dwarfs shrugged and got stuck into their food again. Bango looked over at the Mair with distant interest - he was stuffed to the gills - and thought, 'He is begrimed and betwigged something chronic. I wonder if he's been fighting fierce hairy animals - or, at  least, rolling about in the undergrowth with them?'

And then Bango nodded off for fourty winks - this time with a pillow fastened securely to his buttocks with a cloak cord.



to be continued...

Orwell wrote:{{{Oh Paul, I still haven't read the Wobbit. Nothing against your tale --- but I want to finish mine before I read yours. Don't want to steal your ideas, you see!  }}}

Don't worry about stealing my ideas. If it's good enough for Harvard...

Seriously, though, your songs are GREAT and your dialog reads very naturally. And I get a feel of who your characters are. They aren't just mouthpieces for you to tell jokes. It's hard to write for so many dwarves.

I wouldn't worry about "The Wobbit" influencing you. Your work is distinctly different from mine, if only because of its "adults-only" nature.

If you're still trying to commit to a title, I recommend "The Wobbit, A Parody." It's very popular, and you would be the first author to include a comma.

Thanks Paul. No The Hobwit it is!  (For me it implies 'Halfwit' for some reason... )

Though "The Wobbit!" does seem striking*!  



(*It's the ! that does it, methinks!  )

The Wobbit A Parody wrote:and you would be the first author to include a comma.

Very glad to see that you are open to continuing the story, Orwell :)Not only chapters 1 and 2 are great, the rest is too. The setup to chapter 5 with the prologue is paricularly hilarious :DI'd love to point out all the parts I laughed at, but that'd make this post a chapter of its own. But images like this one:

«But before Dwarfen could pursue her peculiar vein of feminine logic, a stone giant poked his head over the pinnacle of a nearby mountain.

“Who’s up for a game of bumperball, what?”»

are priceless Your version of the riddle game is very funny as well, though perhaps one of the more "adult" parts of this tale

On a more general note I think there's more to your parody than great humour. Your writing too is very good, and the way you time and again keep surprising me as the reader is part of why it's so fun to read it. I'll try to write down some examples when I read more, but you have a way of setting up an episode or a character to be something, and then it turns out to be something completely unexpected

Also, your occasional stab at the logic of the original is very amusing as well, though I'm not sure whether they're meant as that or not. A couple of examples to show what I'm thinking of:

«the ponies ran off in a panic and jumped into the river that was raging a torrent – as they tend to do in such circumstances»

«Spiegel had seen Bango and got into a boat he had got under the mountain somehow and paddled across the lake from the island he lived on, singing as he went.»

There are more, but those were the ones I remembered and was able to find without too much effort

Thanks for the positive words, Ringo, my fine thighed friend!  

I know The Hobbit is 'story' or 'fairy tale', so it is only proper that many unlikely things happen - like boats turning up under mountains! I just like the idea of explaining how possibly illogical things can happen, or admitting I don't know (as narrator) how things happened but accept that they have - if only in the complicit sense of accepting your disbelief has been suspended.

As an example of this I always thought it wonderful that a troop of travelling dwarfs would have musical instruments with them (harps, man!), and never doubted the veracity of the story, but I knew there was the problem of how much a dwarf could carry along with his food and clothes and face cream. So musical-instruments cum camp equipment was my stab at finding a practical solution (as far as the practical can be stretched!).  I guess it's sort of in the vein of Monty Python's views on witches being made of wood, which is the reason they float. It just makes sense (nonsenscially speaking!) Making them travelling musicians made it more than logical - until turning their instruments into dual purpose items. Oh how much fun it all is!

I play with all sorts of ideas as I go - and definitely they come as I go. I don't see parodies merely as fun-poking but as much - if not more - as an idea-exploring creative opportunity - but where the hard work has already been done for you.      

Most of the humour is me trying to be super-Tolkien and at his most humorous and incisive. The humour is mostly Tolkienish in this tale - or tries to be - yet with a slab or two of Lear and Carroll and Monty Python and Benny Hill thrown in. I imagine even Tolkien being a litle rude and vulgar with the other Inklings after their Donnish intellectualism had been eroded with a fine ale or two and the (naughty boy's-own) silliness began.

Oh yes, this is definitely a loving version of all things Tolkien. He may not necessarily approve of The Hobwit - but The Hobwit thoroughly approves of The Hobbit (and respects it as a great work of literature and deeply and with cheek!) And if at times, The Hobwit is in a small way thought provoking or even literary, then I honestly avow, I shall die a happier man (or boy).  

Cheers.

Tolkien's style is easy to recognise in your parody, though obviously with your own touch added to it I do hope you write it all out, but I understand these things take time. Like I said earlier, though, better to take your time and write something you're happy with than to write just for the sake of completing it

Chapter Seven continued

By lunch time the Company became tired of Grandelf repeatedly asking them to ask him where he had been, so they sat down on the floor near the roaring fire in the Anglo-Saxon style hall and said, "Go on then. Spit it out."

Grandelf looked stern and for a moment Bango thought he was going to refuse to tell them, but obviously Grandelf was too narcissistic in the end not to. "I stayed awake after all you had fallen asleep, my friends. I was waiting you see... ... Well, ask me why."

"Why?" Thorin asked, a bit annoyed. "Come on, your busting to tell us your tale. Or do you want us to go outside and come in two by two?"

"You all missed the point of that, didn't you!" Grandelf grumbled.

"Yes, we all did miss the point," Poin butted in. "Now, just get on with it, will you."

Grandelf glowered a moment, then wagged his beard as nonchalantly as he could in the circumstances before continuing. "Well, it was after all the scuffling and rooftop goings-on had dissipated, and Biffo had slipped into Bango's bed. It was then I quietly went to the door and left the hall...."

"What was that about Biffo in Bango's bed?" Snodgrass asked with eyebrows raised in sudden interest. "That'll be four gold crowns," he added turning to Bumbur with a grin.

"But was it consensual?" the fat dwarf wanted to know. He looked at Bilbo. "Well, was it?"

"Can we just get on with Grandelf's tale," Bango retorted, going red.

"Yes, shut up," Grandelf rebuked Snodgrass and Bumbur. "Where was I? Oh yes. With Bilbo's giggles in my ear, I snuck out under the Evenstar and saw that there were all sorts of tracks in the dirt of Brawny Bjorn's courtyard. I could interpret what had gone on - for my cousin Rasputin had taught me all about spoor and how to read it. I can tell you, things had gone on that would make Biffo and Bango's activities look quite normal. Anyway, I see that one set of tracks had gone off toward the river. I followed them and came at last to the Big Bolder, and who should I meet there but a beautiful elf."

"What was she doing there?" Thorin asked, suspiciously. "Lurking, I bet."

"She was doing nothing of the sort," Grandelf said firmly. "She was out looking for her magic bangle."

"Bangle?" Bango asked in shock.

"Yes, her bangle," Grandelf said.

"When did she lose it?" Dwarfen wanted to know. "It is sad when you lose something precious like that."

"It had been stolen," Grandelf said, darkly. "Apparently, her no-good estranged son, Spiegel stole it - about eight years ago, it was." Grandelf turned to Bango. "Now, Bango - what was the name of that strange gangrel creature you met in the cave under the mountains again?"

"Umm.. I can't remember..." Bango lied, his hand automatically feeling the cold gold of his bangle in his pocket. Yes, his bangle!

"And that bangle of yours," Grandelf asked. "Do you think it could possibly be the one that belongs to the elf I met?"

"There are lots of bangles in the world," Bango answered quickly. "What did hers look like?

"Well, it was gold, she said. And it could make you invisible when you put it on."

"My bangle can't do that," Bango lied again and laughed hollowly. "So it can't be the same one."

"Fair enough," Grandelf said. "I just thought I'd ask. I promised the beautiful elf I would ask you about it. She's from Muckwood by the way. I said, 'My goodness! What a dark and perilous place that must be to live in nowadays.' She said, "Oh I get by, one way or another.' I thought that rather stout of her. And then she went off. She reminded me a bit of the Necromuncher in a way, actually, though it's been awhile. Something powerful about her. I can tell you I shouldn't like to be her son Spiegel when she finds him. Sounded really keen about that Bangle-of-Invisibility of hers. I bet she could be quite a bitch if she wanted to be."

"So then," Thorin wanted to know. "What happened after that?"

"What? Oh I couldn't get across the river anywhere so I came back this way."

"So why were you gone so long?" Snodgrass wanted to know.

Grandelf looked a bit shifty. "Um... well.. Sorry - forgot to mention - the beautiful elf did stay with me awhile... we talked.. err... for hours...."

"Did she have eyes that shined like carbuncles?" Bango asked.

"She did. The carbunkliest eyes I've seen these past two Ages," Grandelf smiled. Then Grandelf caught a certain gleam in Dwarfen's eyes. "We only talked though. I swear."

"Spiegel?" Bango thought. "Bangle?" he thought next. "I think I'll have to keep quiet about this bangle. I mean, it's mine now. I found it. I didn't steal it or anything. Spiegel did that. I didn't. I found it and so it's my special bangle. It's my Special Bangle. Yes, my Special.'

"What was that about 'Spiegel' and your 'Special'?  Grandelf asked, looking a bit disracted and sheepish under Dwarfen's careful gaze.

"Can you read minds?" Bango asked in horror.

"What? .. No, not all.... you were thinking aloud."

"Oh.. well then..." Bango said getting angry for no reason. "I was just thinking aloud about what you were saying. I have no idea who this Spiegel is, nor anything about a Bangle-of-Invisibility - nothing at all - no matter how special it might be."

"Steady on. I was only asking," Grandelf protested. "Anyway, I'm famished. What's for dinner."

Bango breathed easier as he fingered his bangle affectionately. 'My Special' he thought - this time inside his head. 'My Special.'


to be continued...

Wonderful tale this. And cheap. {{{Yes, cheaper than all it's rivals. Free in fact.   }}}

It IS a most wonderful tale. And I can get up and go pee in the middle of it without disturbing anyone.