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Old 07-09-2003, 02:04 PM   #2
The Saucepan Man
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The Saucepan Man has been trapped in the Barrow!
The Eye

Of Melvin Bluenote and the Flight of the Noodlar

It is said that Melvin Bluenote was originally the greatest of the Velour. The twin brother of Manuël Sántana, they were together the firstborn sons of Ilovetar. And in the First Age of the Light-Fittings, Melvin dwelt in utter contentment with his breth/sist-ren in the Land of Valleyum on the continent of Mogaddon, to the West of Muddled Mirth over the Blundering Sea. There too dwelt the three great races of Elves whom the Velour had brought (much against their will, as will be seen) from Muddled Mirth: the Vaniti, the Calamari and the Noodlar, together known as the Doolalliquendi (‘the Elves who took the Valleyum Trip’ or the ‘Dolls of the Velour’).

Now the Doolalliquendi had not been keen to come to Valleyum and a sordid mixture of threats, promises and force had been employed by the Velour to bring them there. And to ensure that they stayed, for the Valour enjoyed nothing more than managing the lives of passively compliant species, they were kept in a pacified and soporific state by the sedative food of Valleyum and by the strangely stupefying Musak of the Velour, a soothing mix of easy-listening classics which was piped throughout the land.

But Melvin began to tire of the idyllic, yet uneventful, existence that the Velour enjoyed in Valleyum. He began to long to see other lands, to hear more vibrant and trendy music and perhaps to organise the lives of other beings; possibly even to build quite large settlements for them. Then, in time, his ennui gave rise to musical differences between him and his brother. For Manuël and Melvin began to argue over which tranquil tunes and mellifluent melodies should be played within the Musak of the Velour and, one night after a particularly rancorous squabble, Melvin took it upon himself to switch the Musak off. For this sacrilegious act, he was summoned before a Counsel of the Velour where, unrepentant, he continued to speak out against his brother. Too apathetic to argue with him, but nevertheless craving a peaceful life, the Velour ejected Melvin from Mogaddon, condemning him to wander alone in the Darkness of Muddled Mirth.

Feeling bitter and twisted at his rejection, and also rather fearful of the dark, Melvin took with him all of the Light-Fittings of Valleyum. And included amongst these were the three marvellous Lava Lamps, known as the Silmaroils, which had been crafted by the (relatively) fiery and hot-headed Noodlar Elf, Feeblenor, in rare moments of full consciousness and wherein he had captured the Languid Lava of Valleyum. In later days, Melvin wore them in a groovy crown in which the Lava of Valleyum glooped and swirled in psuitably psychedelic fashion.

Now in all the confusion, no-one had remembered to switch the Musak back on, nor to keep the Doolalliquendi fed on their regular narcotic diet, and the Noodlar, who had always been the most sentient of the Doolalliquendi (although frankly that is not saying much), awoke from their tranquillised state. And Feeblenor, who regarded the Silmaroils as his greatest creations, was sorely grieved by their theft. Whereupon he stirred up uncharacteristic rebellion in the hearts of the Noodlar so that, in open defiance of the Velour, they followed Melvin to Muddled Mirth there to engage him in battle. But in so doing, they committed the terrible act of the Kinhoodwinking, when they tricked the King of the Calamari, Paellaë, into looking the other way while they stole the Calamari’s treasured Squid Ships.

Of Môgul Bildûr and the Redevelopment of Dairyland

In the meantime, Melvin, on reaching Muddled Birth, had immediately laid claim to its North West region, called Dairyland, wherein lived the Smartiquendi (‘the Elves who had sneaked off when the Velour came and so successfully avoided enforced relocation to Valleyum’). The greatest of the Smartiquendi were the Sindiar, who, under their King, Thingy, and with the assistance of the three Great Houses of the Fodderain (of the newly awoken race of Man), had turned the wide plains of Dairyland into a highly successful dairy farming concern. Melvin, however, had other plans. He wished instead to turn the entire piece of highly desirable real estate into highly desirable luxury apartments and highly lucrative industrial estates, shopping malls and food halls. So he entered into dread negotiations with the Sindiar. And thereafter, he became known to Elves and Men as Môgul Bildûr, ‘the Dread Developer’. And he was smart and businesslike, albeit somewhat sinister, to behold.

In that time it is said that, to aid him in his negotiations, Môgul committed one of his most terrible atrocities. Capturing lone Elves and Men, he tortured them in the dungeons of his fortress, Slangbad, filling their heads with ancient texts and useless lore, until they became as twisted and devoid of humanity as he. And so they became the Korprat-Loyers, subservient to the instructions of Môgul and obedient to his code: cruel in their logic, treacherous in their drafting and merciless in their negotiating stance.

And so, with the aid of the Korprat-Loyers, and other minions that he drew unto himself (Orcs, Trolls, Vampires – you know, the usual), he brought the Sindiar to the brink of capitulation. But then, just in the nick of time, the host of the Noodlar arrived: bold, valiant and somewhat dull-witted and led by the slightly demented Feeblenor. Whereupon Môgul was forced into hasty retreat. But, in their hour of unwitting victory, tragedy struck the Noodlar. Chasing the host of Môgul back to Slangbad, Feeblenor was set upon and slain by Greedhog, Senior Partner of the Korprat-Loyers. And, when his seven sons, Mugglin, Muddlehead, Celegormless, Currentbun, Curedham, Ramrod and Rumpus, came upon his fallen body, shredded by the terrible clauses of the mighty Korprat-Loyer, they stared in sullen surprise as it fizzled and crackled into nothing in a rather pathetic and anti-climactic pyrotechnic display. And in their fury and disappointment (the latter prompted by their father’s rather unflattering demise), they vowed never to rest until Môgul had been defeated and the Silmaroils regained.

So it came to pass that the forces of Môgul were held back for many thousands of years by the combined might, pig ignorance and blind foolhardiness of the Noodlar, Sindiar and Fodderain (the truest and most loyal of whom became known as the Canon-Fodderain). Many tales are told of that time: heroic and tragic, published and unpublished, canon and pure speculation. Of the Fodderain, Benny Clammyhand, and his Elven bride, the exquisitely plain Lucy-Jane Thinguviel, daughter of Thingy, and their haphazard theft of one of the Silmaroils from Môgul’s crown. Of the rather comical, yet ultimately futile, adventures of Tintin Rum-baba, who succumbed to the Doom of the Dread Developer. And of the Vow of the Seven Sons of Feeblenor and the terrible deeds that they committed in the name of the laws of inheritance.

But in the end it was to no avail. For Môgul sat in his fortress at Slangbad and plotted and schemed, while his Korprat-Loyers devised ever more tortuous and complex contractual provisions. And gradually, with each new take-over, merger and public-private partnership, his forces gained ever-increasing title to the freehold of Dairyland. And, as the land slowly came under his dominion, Môgul Bildûr, the Dread Developer, tore down the woods and forests, concreted over the wide plains and low hills and Balrog-dozed the modest (though well-appointed) farmsteads of Elves and Men. In their place, he built apartment block after shopping mall after food hall until no free farmlands remained save for a small poultry-farm at the mouth of the great river, Spurious, wherein gathered all the Elves and Men that had survived the terrible years of negotiation. And there they dwelt under the lordship of Roneld McDoneld, the Half-Elven, known as the Farmer.

Of the War of Mild Irritation and the casting of Môgul into the Void

While all this had been happening, the Velour, having re-pacified the remaining Doolalliquendi, had continued to enjoy their life of irresponsible but peaceful detachment. They cared little for the travails of the Noodlar, who had left Valleyum against their wishes, or the Sindiar, who had never come in the first place. But it came to pass that Manuël Sántana one day said to his breth/sist-ren that he desired reconciliation with his long-lost brother. And so the Velour turned their eyes to Muddled Mirth. But, on seeing the devastation wrought by Môgul on Dairyland, they became furious and immediately called another Counsel. And it happened that at that very moment a traveller arrived from Muddled Mirth: Eärandnau the Marinade, a Half-Elf of mixed Noodlar, Sindiar and Fodderain descent, who had braved the terrors of the Sunderland Sea to plea for aid on behalf of his kindred, the beleaguered free smallholders of Dairyland. And Eärandnau’s arrival was most fortuitous, for the Velour would have returned to their uneventful existence, seeing an expedition to Muddled Mirth as far too much fuss and bother, had it not been for the fact that he bore with him the Silmaroil that had been taken from Môgul’s crown and various other Light-Fittings that had been recovered during the sad years of protracted negotiation. Delighted that their realm was once again enlightened (in the literal if not figurative sense), they chose to reward Eärandnau and his kin by wreaking their terrible vengeance on Môgul and his evil undertaking.

And so, sailing across the Sunderland Sea in the Squid Ships of the Calamari, the host of the Velour marched on Slangbad, routing before them the minions of Môgul and the renegade peoples who had populated his urban iniquity. Even the Vaniti were roused from their self-obsessed reverie for long enough to lend a hand, although they were not in sooth much cop as warriors and so spent most of the time lurking at the back, fixing their hair and make-up and stabbing the odd escaping Orc or Troll with hatpins. And such was the turbulence of the War of Mild Irritation that the lands themselves were rent asunder, having had their rent reviewed one time too many, and Dairyland sunk deep below the Sunderland Sea, never to be seen again by those that breathe the air. Except whales. And dolphins and porpoises, of course. Oh, and perhaps the odd seal too. And its tower blocks, shopping centres and factory complexes no longer served any but the denizens of the deep.

Nevertheless, the victory of the Velour was complete. Môgul was defeated and his forces scattered and he was brought in chains before the Velour, still yet unrepentant. And Mantoes stepped forward and pronounced his doom:

Môgul, our brother, you have acted in folly
And now you won’t even say that you’re sorry.
So, at the risk of making you paranoid
We have no choice but to throw you in the void.


But the Velour Yawanna, who loved all living things with a half-hearted enthusiasm, was grieved at the destruction caused to the trees of Dairyland by the fervour of Môgul’s property development antics. So, implausibly (but necessarily for plot purposes) she urged Mantoes to bind the fate of Môgul to that of the Ents, the shepherds of trees that had been created according to her will. And, against his better judgement, Mantoes proceeded to pronounce further:

And it shall come to pass that an Ent shall be hewn
And its parts still living through Muddled Mirth strewn
But when the Ent once more becomes whole.
You, my dear Môgul, can kiss goodbye to your soul.


And, with that, Môgul Bildûr was cast into the inky blackness of the void, wherein he brooded darkly and malevolently, nurturing and cuddling and pampering his evilness until there was little left of him but pure evil. And then a Dark Lord he truly was. For, being without the Light-Fittings, he was forced to overcome his fear of the dark and, indeed, in time he came to be quite fond of it. And there he remained as long years passed, until news of the Ent that was Broken reached him, even in the darkness of the void ...
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Last edited by The Saucepan Man; 12-03-2004 at 07:54 PM. Reason: Mith's Blundering Sea is much better that Sunderland Sea
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