[Estelyn Telcontar]

Orogarn Two, son of… [oh, go back and read it on the first pages of this story – I can’t be bothered to repeat it all now!] anyway, the Heir Incumbent to the Proctorship of Grundor could not take his eyes off the epitome of manhood that stood before him. He had been feeling rather manly as the last of the three Heroes in the Questship, but not even Halfullion, Earnur and himself all in one could have competed with this splendid specimen. When Melvin beckoned to him to approach, he could not have withstood though he were as strong as he deemed himself at times. That shapely, masculine yet well-groomed hand held out a letter to him. He recognized his father’s handwriting and took it, too amazed to question its origin.

He turned it over and broke the familiar seal, that of the Royal House of Grundor - seven shining teeth and a white toothbrush on a black background, yet without the crown of the King. But lo! what was this? A golden crown adorned the seal! Too puzzled to wonder how a seal could be multi-coloured, he unfolded the paper without checking it for the watermark of authenticity.

He began to read:

Hail, King Orogarn the First!

His head reeled. What could this mean? Grundor had no king, Grundor needed no king, his father had often told him. He had asked, “How many hundreds of years must a Proctor gamble to become King?” And his father had answered, “Few years, perhaps, in other places of less dental hygiene. In the City of Pearly Whites ten thousand years of brushing, flossing and bleaching would not suffice.”

He continued reading:


You may indeed wonder at the title I give you, yet I only pass on what was given by the Wight City’s Council. Our family has been requested to take the kingship of Grundor, since it does not look like a king even exists, let alone will ever return to rule. Since I think more highly of you than of myself, I have decided that you should be the one to become king, and I, who am accustomed to the role of Proctor, will continue to carry the burden of hum-drum responsibilities for you.

There is but one condition – you must come back immediately, or this offer will no longer be valid. Leave your childish questing; there are others who can carry on with that, but you are the only one who can rule the realm.

Your bank account has been expanded without a limit, so that all necessary resources are at your command. Oh, and do you remember little “Neigh-o-whinny”, as you called the neighbour girl who went to school with you? She had a horsey face, you said, and a ponytail, and braces, and spectacles, and freckles. Well, she was away at a fancy boarding school somewhere out East, and now she has returned, looking drop-dead gorgeous and whispering to her friends that she will marry no one but you. I think you will find that it is worth your while to come back home. Please hurry!

Your affectionate father

PS - By the way, the new motto of our house is now "Once a King in Grundor, always a King in Grundor!"


Orogarn (forget Two – now he was Number One!) looked up, his eyes glazed with wonder and desire. He could envision himself, standing on the ramparts of Minus Teeth, his arm tenderly laid around the slender waist of a beautiful maiden, fairer even than Merisuwyniel on a good day, though he had not imagined that to be possible. A light breeze arose and blew, and their hair, raven waves and golden tresses, streamed out mingling in the air. And tooth decay vanished, and smiles were unveiled, and whiteness leaped forth; and the toothpaste tubes shone like silver, and in all the bathrooms of the City men sang despite the foam that welled up in their mouths from what brandname they could not tell.

Without realizing what he did, Orogarn walked slowly toward Môgul. His sword he dropped ignominiously into the dirt, not heeding the excellent quality of its blade nor the nobility of its lineage. He no longer needed it. From somewhere in the background, the strains of Grundor’s national anthem sounded triumphantly. He was on his way home.