A Midsummer Nights Dream (in Forumshire)

that tale wrote:Lastly he woke Orwell who had been having a rather bizarre dream in which he was  the star attraction at a woman only zoo.

 

Let's be honest

Who hasn't had that dream?

CC12 35 wrote:karma chamelon" by boy george's new wave band is usually playing in my head i don't like it

I know just what you're saying.

Eldorion wrote:Let's be honest

Who hasn't had that dream?

 

Fine change "women only zoo" to "men only zoo" and repeat the question.

i am sticking to my answer.

Well I'm crying now!

ok. fire away i am up to date.

The middle night was now long passed, and to the discerning eye a thin line of glimmering light could just be glimpsed beyond the horizon, the suns return, beckoning the day.
And in Dave's fields a presumptuous cockerel crows in throaty hail.
But enchanted night holds sway still above Needlehole.
See there in magic love go Figg and Eldo, he running, her doing all she can to keep up, bustle bobbing, into the trees they go and at Eldo's insistence begin to climb.
And on the slope above the remaining ladies of Forumshre huddle in heavy debate whilst Halfwise lies curled at Azriel's disapproving feet.
But let us turn deeper into the wood, where in a mystic glade lies Petty, who can hardly believe his luck.

Petty was drunk. Very drunk.
Getting to the buckie had proved tricky once it had arrived. And not just because he could not easily move in the costume and that it was much harder to open a barrel with eight hands than it had formerly been with two, but because the head had no mouth hole.

Petty's solution in the end had been simple- he would fill the entire suit with buckie until it reached the level of his mouth, then just top up the suit as needed.

It had worked, more or less. He had sprung a few minor leaks here and there but he had got his buckie, eventually.

He was happily propped up in the bower, Tinuviel lying with her head in his lap, which gurgled with inner buckie, singing elvish love songs to him.  He slurped the buckie that lapped at his lips and ozzed slightly from various outlets, only some of them part of the suit.

“Aye,” he thought, “this was the life. Doing nothing but drinking and contemplating the world.”
It was perfect.


David pulled back a leafy branch carefully and tried to peer through into the glade, Lance's face appeared beside him.

“Tell me something Lance,” David said softly and slowly.

“Yeah what?” Lance replied staring fixedly into the glade.

“Is that Petty being treated like a King by the elves whilst Tinuviel lies on his lap and sings him love songs?”

“Yes it is,” Lance said in a voice that sounded like his brain could not believe it was saying the words.

“Thank Eru for that,” David sighed, “I thought I must have gone mad.”

“Maybe we've both gone mad,” Lance countered still staring.

“Well have we or haven't we?” David asked.

“I'll ask RA,” Lance said glancing back to where RA was standing stiff as a board propped up against a tree.

“RA come and see this,” Lance called and RA tried to turn his head to face them but could not and so had to move his whole body round to face them before  striding towards them like a cat with lolly sticks taped to its legs.

“What do you see in that glade?” Lance asked him.

RA peered between the leaves and then after a moment said, “Its Petty in Queen Tinuviel's bower, I guess the marriage is off then.”

David put a firm hand over RA's mouth, “Don't say that! “ he hissed at RA, “What if Figg heard you say that? Just the sort of thing could get you killed in Forumshire saying that.”

“He's right though,” Lance pointed out, “I mean if Figg finds out Petty's been canoodling in the Queens bower there will be no wedding, there might be a lynching though, and possibly regicide,” he added thinking of Figg when roused.

“Yes, but,” David began peering back through the leaves, “but how? I mean Petty and Tinuivel?”

They all considered the pairing. At least with Figg and Petty there was a sort of logic to it, they were drawn to each other like orange juice and vodka with a similarly explosive outcome.

“Should we tell Figg?” RA asked uncertainly, not sure it was not just the sort of question that could get you killed in Forumshire.

“No,” David responded, “maybe,” he added less certainly trying to envision the likely consequences and wincing.

“We need to find Eldo,” Lance suggested, “he'll know what to do.”


Petty's level of buckie consumption had reached his favourite part and he manfully struggled in a thrashing of limbs to the edge of the bower. Sending showers of flowers cascading over the sides the few feet down to the grass below.

Tinuviel reached up a languid slender arm and rested it on his shoulder, “What more is it you desire?” she purred at him.

“Wheesht women,” Petty replied crabbitly and with a great effort managed to heave himself over the bowers edge, only to fall face down, limbs out either side like a giant splat of  grey mucus, onto the grassy floor below.

A muffled, “Oh yi bugger!” came from within the huge head.

A ring of curious, disgusted, bewildered elves had gathered at the glades edge as Petty ungainly got to his feet and swayed about like a palm tree in a strong wind.

“Right!” he announced with a flourish of a limb or two, “whose fir a square go?”

This was met with blank uncomprehending stares.

“Naebidy! Nae bottle? Fine, I'll pick oot wan o' yi miself then,” Petty slurred at them and then took in the faces around the circle, his suit still half full of buckie sloshing at every movement making him even more unblanced than was usual.

He homed in on an elf who was committing the heinous crime in Petty's eyes of raising an eyebrow at him in a manner that the buckie fuelled Petty deemed disrespectful.

“Yi're claimed,” Petty growled pointing at the elf.

Everyone round the ring looked at the elf, who in turn looked uncomprehending, then everyone looked back at Petty.

“Come oan then,” Petty said impatiently, “a telt yi ye're claimed, noo git oot here and we'll have a square go, and if wir lucky kick aff a wee rammy tae finsh the night awa'.” He grinned devilishly at the elf, who of course could not see he was grinning inside the huge octopus head, which was a shame as Petty had spent quite a lot of time in front of a mirror perfecting his devilish grin.

Instead there was just silence and more blank or puzzled faces.

“My love,” Tinuviel said leaning out over the bowers edge so her dress cascaded down over the flowers of the bowers side in a perfumed curtain, and so turning her head that the glimmering starlight accentuated the eternal cute perfection of her nose.

Petty sighed at the sight of it. It had that effect.

“We do not understand what it is you desire dearest love?” she explained.

“Whit, its plain English!” Petty protested with a disbelieving shrug of many arms that rippled from his shoulders down like Halfwise dreaming of a sine wave

Petty turned back to the eyebrow arching elf, it was still arched which hardened Petty's resolve, “Tell yi whit,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “Why dont yi jist come ooe'r here tae me and I'll kind o' jist start us aff.”

With some reluctance the elf approached the beckoning Petty, stopping several feet away.

“Naw, naw laddie,” Petty said with a shake of his huge head  a swaying of limbs and a gurgle of buckie, “much closer, right in close.”

The elf slowly crossed the remaining few feet between them.

“Aye,” Petty said from within the bulbous forehead, “that looks aboot right,” and with a cry of “Git in aboot it!” he swung forward head-butting the elf several inches into the soil as if he were a hammer driving in a nail.

“Ya belter!” Petty declared happily triumphant, “whose next?”

There was the sound of bows being drawn and swords unsheathing and Ringdrotten and Rhaddy stood forward swords out at Petty.

“My lady,” Ringdrotten said, “let me strike him down now.”

Petty looked about at the ring of steel and arrows pointing his way and held up several limbs, “Whoa, whoa, whits aw this?”

“You have made an unprovoked assault and you ask us for explanation?” Ringdrotten replied.

“Hey I wisnae looking tae cause oany trouble Minging Ring,” Petty explained.

“Ringdrotten,” Ringdrotten replied through gritted teeth.

“Bit naebidy said oanything aboot a weapons fight. I wis jist lookng fir a wee bit of fun, yi know, a wee friendly kicking, maybe a bottling or a humorous chibbing. No this mental stuff wi aw they weapons. Whit ur yi,  Amercian Elves?”

“Ringdrotten stand down!” Tinuviel ordered, slipping gracefully from the bower and alighting on the soft grass in a gentle glow of pale silver light, her delicate bare feet hardly seeming to brush the ground.

Ringdrotten growled under his breath.

“I said stand down!” Tinuviel repeated sharper, “I will have no harm befall him, “ she draped herself  around Petty, “take me in your many arms, love me and fight not.”

“Aye, aye, all in good time lassie,” Petty replied.

“But you must not so accost my people,” she went on stroking one of his arms, “we do not fight among ourselves.”

“Whit, never?” Petty said with some shock,” then whit dae yi dae whin yi get crabbit?”

Tinuviel wrinkled her nose in consternation at him, “There is the beauty of the world, we have song and dance and merriment.”

Inside the suit Petty was starting to break out in a cold sweat, “Aw the time?” he ventured, fearing the answer.

“With all that we have in Eru' creation what cause would there be to be crabbit?” Tinuviel countered as if the notion puzzled her greatly.

“Are yi mad woman?” Petty demanded, “there is always cause tae be crabbit, ah the bloody time. Right noo fir example, Ive naebodae tae fight, and noo yi tell me I'll never be crabbit again. And that's making me fair bloody crabbit I cun tell yi!” he rumbled,  a deep hollow sigh came from within, “If Figg saw me here wi you the noo yi'd see crabbit then aw right,” he said in hushed tones filled with memory, “pure dead brilliant so it is, like a ragin' storm, wi' lightening, and dark thunder clouds topped wi wild white heads tossing in a tempest o' unbridled womanly fury. Aw trussed up tight in a bustle. She is relentless and magnificent!” Petty sighed again deeper.

He had not given any thought at all to Figg whilst he had been waited on hand and foot and when the buckie had been flowing and Tinuviel was telling him he was the best, greatest being who had ever lived. Figg never said those things to him.  In fairness to her they were hard things to shout and most of the time shouting at him was what Figg did.

If you put Figg and him together in a room with the universes only clock in it, they would still end up arguing over the time of day.

He sighed again so deeply this time all his arms rose and fell with him.

He missed being shouted at, and arguing and getting good and proper crabbit at her for being so unreasonable in her continual, inexplicable stubborn refusal to accept his unreasonableness.

“This isnae right,” he said decided out loud.

“What is not my love, my ballon headed adonis?” Tinuviel asked him.

“Me here wi you hen, nae offence,” he said firmly then added “and nae crabbit. I cannae stay here, if you reckon ah they songs and poems and yi're golf are wunderful things then yi havnae seen the lass that's tae be ma missus. I'm sorry fir this yire majesty.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked.

And he head butted her.

In the stunned and shocked few seconds that followed in the glade Petty leapt for the trees in a whirl of arms and staggering, but also surprising speed.

But Ringdrotten and Rhaddy were right behind.

Just read the latest update (and added it to the table of contents) and I loved it. I'm getting better at understanding Petty's Scots (I think?) dialect without having to re-read each line. I fear for him when Ringo catches up, though.

Thanks Eldo.

How much Scots dialect I can get away with, especially with people reading in a second language, does concern me so I havent done it to all the words I should, such as richt for right. I try to stick to hopefully more obvious ones that still resemble the english spelling more. And some words like 'rammy' or 'claimed' in this context are meant to be deliberately obscure sounding and meaningless as part of the humour.

Oh and thanks for the Table of Contents and updating it.

thanks for being so considerate ^^ i'll read this in a moment.

No problem re: the table of contents.

I'm kind of glad you haven't changed all the words since as far as I know Google Translate doesn't support Scots. But I do think it adds to the flavor of your writing to have the Scotshobbit characters speak that way.

just be glad Amarië and i doesn't go all fjordian

 det hadde vært no dritt..

If you ever do I'll just start posting in poorly-translated Swahili again.

btw! try google translate "will One Direction ever die" from english (duh) to greek. then copy the greek and translate it back to english.

noooooooooooooooooo ;_;

''He missed being shouted at''

that can be rectified  

 It usually is.

As Petty bounces drunkenly from tree to tree squirting buckie on impacts in his erratic escape, pursuers hot behind on his clear alcoholic trail let us turn the eye to the tree tops near the forest edge, where Eldo leads his new found love Figg out into the fading night air.

Figg clung onto the worrying thin main trunk at the top of the tree. A gentle breeze was blowing, it had a pre-morning chill to it and she was suddenly aware that she only had on her night bustle.

When was the last time she had run out in the middle of the night in her bustle to climb a tree with someone?

She mused on this a moment before deciding that it must definitely have been before 1882.

Probably a poet, she had spent quite a surprising amount of time up trees with poets in the 1800's.

And here she was up a tree, now, in her night bustle, with Eldo.

There was something not quite right about that she was sure but whenever she looked at his shining youthful face with its halo of magnificent hair it was as if the useful bit of her brain went off somewhere for a good sulk, leaving only the bit that just about knew how to drool.
She realised that was precisely what she was doing now, she was not even listening to him although she was aware he was speaking animatedly.

“We could go to Valinor,” Eldo was saying excitedly with shining eyes, pointing away beyond Needlehole to the harbours, “just jump on a ship without even packing a bag,” he said in a voice that gave the impression he thought this was a new and profound idea entering the world previously unthought of by mortal minds, which for him it was.

“Why don't we just sit here awhile,” Figg suggested and added to herself, “till I get me breath back.”

“But there is so much we could be doing,” Eldo said leaning over her and making the tree top sway.

“Steady on,” she said grabbing the trunk with one hand and then Eldo with the other “Why don't you sit here with me and can see what comes up?”

Eldo put one hand on Figg's cheek and she leant into it and sighed at its smooth youthful strength against her, but then Eldo pulled his hand away saying, “But life is so short and we have so much to see and do together. Mountains to climb,” Eldo enthused.

“Bunions and blisters,” thought Figg.

“Seas to sail.”

“Sickness and tiny toilets” she provided in her head.

“We can travel the world. Leave with me Figg, today,” Eldo said taking her hand.

“I can't just bugger off like that,” Figg protested, although as her eyes met his she felt her protests soften,”I've the eel shop to run.”

“Forget it,” Eldo said moving in closer to her, “when we have one another what more could either of us need?”

At the very back of her head a small voice supplied, “Food, a good wine, a warm fire, a comfortable chair and sensible footwear would be a good start,” but she took Eldo in her arms and heard herself sigh, “Yes, lets run away together.”

His lips brushed hers but suddenly he pulled away even as she motioned to kiss him and she was left with air and annoyance.

“Did you hear something then?” Eldo asked sharply, “ a sort of hiss?”

“No,” Figg said  sharply still annoyed at being robbed of her kiss.

There was a rustling below them.

Eldo put a finger to his lips in sign of silence and carefully leant out over the main trunk looking down, his luxurious hair flowing down either side of his face.

“Maybe its the hair,” Figg thought to herself as looked at him, “maybe I'm in love with the hair.”

It was possible, after all although Petty still had plenty of hair it was just he had less where you might expect it, and rather a lot more in places you would not. Or necessarily want it.

Eldo looked down into the dark shadows beneath him.

There was a figure climbing the tree, it was in the shadows of the retreating night still but making its way steadily upwards towards them.

Faintly Eldo could hear a thin, almost hissing voice, “She's ours, she is. Yes, ours. And we wants her.”

The shape paused a moment and then seemed to look up, and Eldo caught a reflected glint of starlight in the eyes of Orwell who was clinging to the tree in a determined fashion, “Figgs!” Orwell cried, “I wants you!”



Up and away from the climbing Orwell and back down once more to the forests heart we must go where in a clearing an annoyed and impatient Beren strides.


Beren stood angrily in the clearing, which he was good at and practised on quiet nights, and called out, “Cc!Cc! Where are you mischievous sprite?”

A sparkle of multi-coloured lights cascaded down from the leaves and twirled into Cc.

A shadowy figure observed from behind the dark of a tree trunk.

“Cc,” Beren said in a tone of questioning anger, “why is my wood full of bewitched mortals? I said the Queen, no others.”

“What was left unsaid has been said, that is all,” Cc replied and danced around Beren who sighed.

“Cease sprite, I command you!” Beren demanded.

Cc stopped immediately and saluted him then collapsed in giggles, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” she said in leaden tones and spun up into the tree tops.

“Get back here sprite!” Beren demanded shaking a huge fist at the canopy, “undo what you have done this night.”

But his only reply was the fading sound of giggling.

A shadow detached itself from a tree trunk and Ally stepped forward into the clearing, stopping in a pool of starlight that fell at its centre and instantly becoming the coolest looking thing in the clearing.

Beren might have stature and biceps on his side but he had poor lighting standing as he was half in the shadows beneath the eaves.

“Lost control of her have you?” Ally asked.

“And what would a mortal know of elven sprites?” Beren demanded scornfully.

Ally tilted her head up slightly so the light glinted from her eyes.

“I'm Ally. I'm the Mistress of Words and I am the person who will put right the folly of this night and save your relationship with the Queen, Eldo's with Norc, save the wedding of Petty and Figg and get us to the end of this tale before the sun comes up,” she paused for effect and her steely stare met Beren's eyes head on, “ Do you have a problem with that?”

Beren hesitated a moment, “No?” he offered eventually in a meek voice, then added, “is there any way I may assist?”

Ally put her hands casually into her trouser pockets and strode passed Beren, “No,” she said as she went by, “there's only me,” and as she disappeared into the trees she added, “or at least I hope there will be.”

Norc wrote:btw! try google translate "will One Direction ever die" from english (duh) to greek. then copy the greek and translate it back to english.

That's funny ^^

I've only read the first five parts so far, but Eldo's comment further up made me rather curious   I'll read the sixth before bed, the rest'll have to wait

   before  striding towards them like a cat with lolly sticks taped to its legs.

have you tried this petty?

Ringdrotten wrote:

Norc wrote:btw! try google translate "will One Direction ever die" from english (duh) to greek. then copy the greek and translate it back to english.

That's funny ^^

artige.no 4ever in my heart.