Why does it take me so long to update this? Sorry everyone, but I have so
many other stories as well to be doing. I will try to be more faithful to
this story, because it was my first one – the beginning of it all... So
enjoy!
Chapter 7 – Teenage lusts and Kandalf's X-ray glasses
They entered the hall. Inside there were many gift shops, but at the end of the hall was an old man. Sitting next to him was a girl with flowing golden hair, so shiny and healthy looking she should audition for a L'Oreal Elvive advert, wearing the latest Gucci ensemble, and a midget with greasy hair and a twitch.
"Cor, she's hot," said Giblet.
"Who, the midget?" asked Legless, "But then again, they say you fancy people who have the same sort of attractiveness rating as you, and if you're gay..."
"Shut up Cinderella," said Giblet.
"Wicked Witch of the West."
"Can't-pass-mirror-without-looking-in-it."
"Ugly duckling."
"Shut up," said Kandalf, "These are: Theory, the king of Wogan; Squirmtongue, his advisor; and Kéowyn, his beautiful niece."
"Hey baby," said Legless, and winked at her. She smiled at him, and then her eyes lit up as she spotted Begorn. She whisked out her mobile, and started texting frantically.
"Don't even try, smudged mascara," hissed Giblet.
"Spotty nose."
"Split ends."
"Dragged through a hedge backwards."
"Shhhh," said Kandalf. They stood before the king.
"Howdy," said Kandalf, "My name is Kandalf. We come seeking your aid, under the advice of Mayomer, your nephew."
"Senseless clot," mumbled Theory, "I told the dunderhead to stop inviting people home without phoning me first."
"Calm down, Theory," said Kéowyn, who winked at Begorn, "And who are your handsome companions?"
Giblet and Legless blushed.
"I, my lady," said Legless, grabbing her hand and kissing it, "am Legless, of the boffs of Berkwood, and never have I met a lady of such radiance, such beauty..."
"Aw, shucks," smiled Kéowyn, "But what about the others, before you get carried away?" She looked at Begorn, but Giblet pushed in front.
"I'm Giblet!" he grinned, and made a low bow, "And of all the jewels I have worn to discos, never have I seen one that sparkles like your eyes."
"Yeah yeah," she said, eyes still on Begorn, "And who is this?"
"I am Begorn," he said simply.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Begorn?" she said fluttering her eyelashes.
"Well, I lived in the wild. I know how to hunt, and I am heir to the throne of Fondue, I fight with Clearasil, the light sabre that ran out of battery and is newly charged, and am gifted with the arts of healing."
"Really?" she said, smiling at him, "That's so interesting. You and I should talk about it sometime...over dinner..."
"Stop flirting Kéowyn!" said Theory.
Squirmtongue hissed, "Why did you let them in? Now Kéowyn is infatuated with one of them. How can you get rid of them now?"
"Shut up Squirmtongue!" said Kandalf, "I am an old friend of Theory. I know that you are in league with Sarumeanie."
Everyone gasped.
"How?" he squealed.
"I have been gifted with X-ray glasses. Look!" With great flourish she whisked out a letter from Squirmtongue's jacket. She read it out loud.
'To Squirmtongue, continue to tell me all that Theory does. You know that this is essential to the rising of History. Hey wait a minute, why am I writing this? Why don't I just phone you? Yours sincerely, Sarumeanie. PS Burn this after you receive it!''
"Why didn't you burn it?" asked Begorn.
"I was worried I'd forget," he sulked.
Meanwhile, Theory drew himself up to full height.
"This is too much, old boy! Sarumeanie is a rogue, and you have been telling him what I do, you stinking turncoat! You are banned from Megoras, and your children, and your children's children!"
Squirmtongue looked blank.
"Go away," said Kandalf.
"Anyway..." said Kéowyn, after Squirmtongue had stomped off, "Tell me a bit more about yourself, Begorn..."
"Don't bother," said Kandalf, polishing her staff with Giblet's beard, "He's already in love with another boff called Amwen."
"Oh," she said, disappointed, "So!" she said, turning to Legless, "What did you say your name was, Master boff?"
"Legless," he said, "Prince of the boffs of Berkwood."
"Really," said Kéowyn, fluttering her eyelashes, "So tell me, Prince Legless, are all the boffs in Berkwood so handsome?"
"Oh, I'm nothing special..." blushed Legless.
"Yeah he is," said Giblet, "Special Ed!"
"SHUT UP FOBBIT!" yelled Legless.
Everyone in the hall gasped.
"No profanity in my hall, what what!" spluttered Theory, "My dear Kéowyn, they are not suitable boyfriends. Why not just ask the nice boy down the road to the prom..."
"But one of them is," she said, winking at Begorn. Begorn blushed.
"Anyway..." said Kandalf, smiling slightly, "We come with news. Sarumeanie is sending an assault against you."
"The rogue! This is not jolly spiffing. How many?"
"Twenty-"
"That's not bad!"
"-thousand."
"Oh dear," sighed Theory, "This really is too much for someone my age. What do you recommend we do?"
"I say that we should all go to Helms Sheep – tis a refuge in times of need for the folk of Wogan."
"Can I come?" asked Kéowyn.
"No," said Theory.
"Why?" she asked.
"Someone has to water the plants."
"Can't Mayomer do it?"
"No, he must fight."
"But I want to come," she moaned, and winked at Begorn again. Begorn, involuntarily, found himself smiling back.
"I'll think about it," sighed Theory.
"Safe!" she said.
"Boooo," muttered Begorn.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Err...loo – where's the loo?"
"That way," said Theory.
"I can show him!" said Kéowyn.
"She doesn't need to really-" he said, but she had already jumped to her feet and was dragging him off down the corridor.
As they walked along, Kéowyn continued with the interrogation.
"So where do you come from, Begorn?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
"Um, Riverstour. I grew up there, cos my Dad was the heir to the throne of Fondue, but he gave up his title, like I was going to."
"Ooooh, what a fascinating family history..." she said. "Here's the bathroom."
He went in, waited for ten minutes, then came out. She was still there.
"There you are!" she said, "I was just about to come in and look for you."
"Oh...no need for that! Come on, let's go back." He set off very fast for the throne room, but Kéowyn kept up.
"So what's Amwen like?" she asked, "Like me?"
"Aye," he said.
"Better? Or worse?"
"Err..." He faced a dilemma. If he said Kéowyn was better, she would never give up, and he'd be unfaithful to Amwen. If he said Amwen was better, she would have her feelings hurt. If he said they were the same, she would think she was his type, and again, never give up.
"Err...you're...different."
"Variety is the spice of life," said Kéowyn.
Damn, thought Begorn.
When they arrived back at the Throne room, Kandalf turned. She had been deeply absorbed in discussion and a game of Crash Bandicoot with Theory.
"Ah, there you are. We have decided that Kéowyn, you must stay here. It's too dangerous for you to be in a battlefield."
"But-"
"Sorry Kéowyn," said Begorn, "Never mind."
"We leave tomorrow!" said Kandalf.
"Well," said Kéowyn flirtily, "I'll have to make the most of you until you leave then..."
"Why not tonight?" pleaded Begorn.
Everyone stared at him.
"Well...we want to get there in plenty of time," he said.
"Very well," said Theory, "Saddle the hobbyhorses!"
As the preparations were made, Kéowyn came up to Begorn.
"So no sooner have we met, we must part..." she said, "Almost like Romeo and Juliet..."
"Oh no," he said, "More like...err...Rob and Julie."
"Who?"
"Err...they met, then had to part, and ended up hating each other."
"Really," said Kéowyn sceptically, "I've never heard that story."
"Yes, well, it's famous in Fondue."
"Really?" she asked, "I took a degree in Fondue literature."
"Err...oh look! Megoras snow domes!" he said, and ran over to a gift shop.
***
freakanature – Flumpflewumpfle? Hmm, where did I think of that?... Ah yes. It was when I was tired and collapsed onto the sofa, and just went 'Flumpflewumpfle'. It's a collapsing noise. With emphasis on the FLUMPF and the WUMPF.
Pixael28 – I made a mini-excuse at the beginning of the chapter, but not a good enough one... ah well... sorry! It's so sweet you're still reviewing, you've stuck with me from nearly the beginning! (sends virtual muffins)
Eirlys – Flumpflewumpfle! That IS a good name for a pet! Maybe I'll name one of the Ringwraiths after it in my other LOTR parody...
Woundup Orange – Ahem. ParOdy. Not parOOdy. Unless my story is not a parody, but some completely new form of parody which needs a new word, so you dubbed it a paroody? Eh?
Chapter 7 – Teenage lusts and Kandalf's X-ray glasses
They entered the hall. Inside there were many gift shops, but at the end of the hall was an old man. Sitting next to him was a girl with flowing golden hair, so shiny and healthy looking she should audition for a L'Oreal Elvive advert, wearing the latest Gucci ensemble, and a midget with greasy hair and a twitch.
"Cor, she's hot," said Giblet.
"Who, the midget?" asked Legless, "But then again, they say you fancy people who have the same sort of attractiveness rating as you, and if you're gay..."
"Shut up Cinderella," said Giblet.
"Wicked Witch of the West."
"Can't-pass-mirror-without-looking-in-it."
"Ugly duckling."
"Shut up," said Kandalf, "These are: Theory, the king of Wogan; Squirmtongue, his advisor; and Kéowyn, his beautiful niece."
"Hey baby," said Legless, and winked at her. She smiled at him, and then her eyes lit up as she spotted Begorn. She whisked out her mobile, and started texting frantically.
"Don't even try, smudged mascara," hissed Giblet.
"Spotty nose."
"Split ends."
"Dragged through a hedge backwards."
"Shhhh," said Kandalf. They stood before the king.
"Howdy," said Kandalf, "My name is Kandalf. We come seeking your aid, under the advice of Mayomer, your nephew."
"Senseless clot," mumbled Theory, "I told the dunderhead to stop inviting people home without phoning me first."
"Calm down, Theory," said Kéowyn, who winked at Begorn, "And who are your handsome companions?"
Giblet and Legless blushed.
"I, my lady," said Legless, grabbing her hand and kissing it, "am Legless, of the boffs of Berkwood, and never have I met a lady of such radiance, such beauty..."
"Aw, shucks," smiled Kéowyn, "But what about the others, before you get carried away?" She looked at Begorn, but Giblet pushed in front.
"I'm Giblet!" he grinned, and made a low bow, "And of all the jewels I have worn to discos, never have I seen one that sparkles like your eyes."
"Yeah yeah," she said, eyes still on Begorn, "And who is this?"
"I am Begorn," he said simply.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Begorn?" she said fluttering her eyelashes.
"Well, I lived in the wild. I know how to hunt, and I am heir to the throne of Fondue, I fight with Clearasil, the light sabre that ran out of battery and is newly charged, and am gifted with the arts of healing."
"Really?" she said, smiling at him, "That's so interesting. You and I should talk about it sometime...over dinner..."
"Stop flirting Kéowyn!" said Theory.
Squirmtongue hissed, "Why did you let them in? Now Kéowyn is infatuated with one of them. How can you get rid of them now?"
"Shut up Squirmtongue!" said Kandalf, "I am an old friend of Theory. I know that you are in league with Sarumeanie."
Everyone gasped.
"How?" he squealed.
"I have been gifted with X-ray glasses. Look!" With great flourish she whisked out a letter from Squirmtongue's jacket. She read it out loud.
'To Squirmtongue, continue to tell me all that Theory does. You know that this is essential to the rising of History. Hey wait a minute, why am I writing this? Why don't I just phone you? Yours sincerely, Sarumeanie. PS Burn this after you receive it!''
"Why didn't you burn it?" asked Begorn.
"I was worried I'd forget," he sulked.
Meanwhile, Theory drew himself up to full height.
"This is too much, old boy! Sarumeanie is a rogue, and you have been telling him what I do, you stinking turncoat! You are banned from Megoras, and your children, and your children's children!"
Squirmtongue looked blank.
"Go away," said Kandalf.
"Anyway..." said Kéowyn, after Squirmtongue had stomped off, "Tell me a bit more about yourself, Begorn..."
"Don't bother," said Kandalf, polishing her staff with Giblet's beard, "He's already in love with another boff called Amwen."
"Oh," she said, disappointed, "So!" she said, turning to Legless, "What did you say your name was, Master boff?"
"Legless," he said, "Prince of the boffs of Berkwood."
"Really," said Kéowyn, fluttering her eyelashes, "So tell me, Prince Legless, are all the boffs in Berkwood so handsome?"
"Oh, I'm nothing special..." blushed Legless.
"Yeah he is," said Giblet, "Special Ed!"
"SHUT UP FOBBIT!" yelled Legless.
Everyone in the hall gasped.
"No profanity in my hall, what what!" spluttered Theory, "My dear Kéowyn, they are not suitable boyfriends. Why not just ask the nice boy down the road to the prom..."
"But one of them is," she said, winking at Begorn. Begorn blushed.
"Anyway..." said Kandalf, smiling slightly, "We come with news. Sarumeanie is sending an assault against you."
"The rogue! This is not jolly spiffing. How many?"
"Twenty-"
"That's not bad!"
"-thousand."
"Oh dear," sighed Theory, "This really is too much for someone my age. What do you recommend we do?"
"I say that we should all go to Helms Sheep – tis a refuge in times of need for the folk of Wogan."
"Can I come?" asked Kéowyn.
"No," said Theory.
"Why?" she asked.
"Someone has to water the plants."
"Can't Mayomer do it?"
"No, he must fight."
"But I want to come," she moaned, and winked at Begorn again. Begorn, involuntarily, found himself smiling back.
"I'll think about it," sighed Theory.
"Safe!" she said.
"Boooo," muttered Begorn.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Err...loo – where's the loo?"
"That way," said Theory.
"I can show him!" said Kéowyn.
"She doesn't need to really-" he said, but she had already jumped to her feet and was dragging him off down the corridor.
As they walked along, Kéowyn continued with the interrogation.
"So where do you come from, Begorn?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
"Um, Riverstour. I grew up there, cos my Dad was the heir to the throne of Fondue, but he gave up his title, like I was going to."
"Ooooh, what a fascinating family history..." she said. "Here's the bathroom."
He went in, waited for ten minutes, then came out. She was still there.
"There you are!" she said, "I was just about to come in and look for you."
"Oh...no need for that! Come on, let's go back." He set off very fast for the throne room, but Kéowyn kept up.
"So what's Amwen like?" she asked, "Like me?"
"Aye," he said.
"Better? Or worse?"
"Err..." He faced a dilemma. If he said Kéowyn was better, she would never give up, and he'd be unfaithful to Amwen. If he said Amwen was better, she would have her feelings hurt. If he said they were the same, she would think she was his type, and again, never give up.
"Err...you're...different."
"Variety is the spice of life," said Kéowyn.
Damn, thought Begorn.
When they arrived back at the Throne room, Kandalf turned. She had been deeply absorbed in discussion and a game of Crash Bandicoot with Theory.
"Ah, there you are. We have decided that Kéowyn, you must stay here. It's too dangerous for you to be in a battlefield."
"But-"
"Sorry Kéowyn," said Begorn, "Never mind."
"We leave tomorrow!" said Kandalf.
"Well," said Kéowyn flirtily, "I'll have to make the most of you until you leave then..."
"Why not tonight?" pleaded Begorn.
Everyone stared at him.
"Well...we want to get there in plenty of time," he said.
"Very well," said Theory, "Saddle the hobbyhorses!"
As the preparations were made, Kéowyn came up to Begorn.
"So no sooner have we met, we must part..." she said, "Almost like Romeo and Juliet..."
"Oh no," he said, "More like...err...Rob and Julie."
"Who?"
"Err...they met, then had to part, and ended up hating each other."
"Really," said Kéowyn sceptically, "I've never heard that story."
"Yes, well, it's famous in Fondue."
"Really?" she asked, "I took a degree in Fondue literature."
"Err...oh look! Megoras snow domes!" he said, and ran over to a gift shop.
***
freakanature – Flumpflewumpfle? Hmm, where did I think of that?... Ah yes. It was when I was tired and collapsed onto the sofa, and just went 'Flumpflewumpfle'. It's a collapsing noise. With emphasis on the FLUMPF and the WUMPF.
Pixael28 – I made a mini-excuse at the beginning of the chapter, but not a good enough one... ah well... sorry! It's so sweet you're still reviewing, you've stuck with me from nearly the beginning! (sends virtual muffins)
Eirlys – Flumpflewumpfle! That IS a good name for a pet! Maybe I'll name one of the Ringwraiths after it in my other LOTR parody...
Woundup Orange – Ahem. ParOdy. Not parOOdy. Unless my story is not a parody, but some completely new form of parody which needs a new word, so you dubbed it a paroody? Eh?