“What in the name of Míc’rôsöftar is this new devilry?” exclaimed the Gateskeeper from his rather awkward and mighty uncomfortable position. But the roar echoing in the room being deafening his words went naturally unheard by the Loyers as well as the recently disentitled Dimli. Luckily the Gateskeeper’s perplexity didn’t last for long and he soon remembered that being an all-powerful wizard in the field of wizardry meant he had all the needed powers to solve this burning (yes, he could sense the heat) issue on his own. So without further ado - and completely ignoring Dimli and his attempt to peddle earplugs (‘Plugs-sale: only one Casino!’ read the Dwarf’s hastily scribbled sign.) – the Gateskeeper straightened in his chair and, with greatest effort he had thus far had to make during the quest, sent out an undefined number of o-mails To: whom it may concern.
For a moment there was a dead silence - or would have been had not the ear-splitting din drowned it. The Gateskeeper stared from over his spectacles into the distance, his knitted brows reflecting depth of concentration. Another similar moment passed - and the Gateskeeper’s eyes began to water. The third fleeting moment that lingered by was finally too much for the wizard: there was a jerk in the corner of his eye and then --- he blinked. *zap*
Undelivered o-mail returned to sender. “Damnit! Now I have to go out to find out what’s going on…” quoth Gatesy and rolled out of the door in his office chair.
* * * * * * *
In the meanwhile, somewhere deep in the depths of the Glitzy Caverns, the source of the tremor and clamor - that caused the Entish artefacts to tremble and the Sex-Mix-Ship to flee (in what surely resembled but obviously couldn’t be panic) – was having one quite ordinary day. But now, to finally remove the veil of secrecy that has shrouded the identity of
Him even from the Gateskeeper and his army of all-intruding o-mails… Ladies and gentlemen, lads and lasses - and those in-between: it’s time for a flashback!
Quote:
They raced through the passageway, and there it was – the mighty Escalator of Ka-Boom! Out of breath, they stepped onto the mechanical transportation device that took them upwards. At the top, far away, they saw a faint flickering light that came ever nearer. Something huge and fiery was approaching them, coming downwards on the opposite side of the escalator.
“Ai!” wailed Vogonwë. “Ai! A Balfrog is come!” Pimpi didn’t know what he was talking about, but grasped his hand instinctively.
Kuruharan’s Pain! the Dwarf thought.
“Jolly good opportunity for a battle!”
Etceteron exclaimed, but Wylkynsion, who was more learned in lore than his master, cowered silently in his sheath.
Halfullion blanched. Too well did he know this foe and recognize its danger.
Orogarn Two held up his crystal, but it had gone dark and dull.
Merisuwyniel could feel the Bow trembling at her back and shuddered to think of the potentially destructive effect of fire upon it.
Only Chrysophylax was undaunted. After all, he knew a bit about fighting fire with fire. He pushed the others aside and strode up the moving stairway to reach the oncoming threat faster.
From below, the company heard drums, drums in the deep. Merisuwyniel saw graffiti scrawled on the wall: They are coming!
“Dratted buskers!” muttered Halfullion.
Then their doom was upon them. Chrysophylax breathed a mighty flame at the Balfrog, but the foe replied by lashing at him with his long, fiery tongue. The dragon was pulled onto the downward escalator and about to disappear from their sight when Kuruharan shouted, “Fly, you fool!”
And fly he did! For the dragon indeed had wings, and he could use them as well. The Balfrog fell into the deep, whether alive or dead, this story does not tell.
|
But luckily (for the readers at least; the Gallowships opinion on the matter is debatable) this story tells what the previous failed to reveal… Reunification of the Entish Bow proudly presents: Mordaenárur the Balfrog and his loyal companion the Broom!
The This-and-That-Ship escaped the Subway and left the wretched Balfrog to fall to its doom and destruction. And long was the fall he took (so long indeed that had there been a wizard or such clinging to its fiery figure the two would have had plenty of time to play out an impressive battle scene before hitting the bottom of the void which then, of course, would have turned out to be the top of the highest mountain in the neighborhood… But now I digress.) – before remembering his last hope.
“Fly you broom!” the severely shadowy creature exclaimed (conveniently in westosterone so that those unfamiliar with the fell language of the fallen Máyôrs are able to follow the script) and lo! A faint shiver went through The Broom - which hereby steps into the story without any explanations whatsoever – with a squeak and then a squeal:
“My goodness, Master; this is terrible, Master!”
“More flying and less whimpering!” demanded Mordaenárur the Fiery-yet-Wingless (or de-winged?; this will be a matter of further debate), clutching the Broom tight. The Broom snapped shut its knothole and silently and smoothly, like MôgulAirs special Wraithflight, it stopped the fall, then hung in midair for a moment before taking off to a wobbling flight back towards the Escalator.
How Mord and the Broom eventually passed from the Subway to Soreham and Ham Steep is undoubtedly a story worth telling. But alas! that has to wait for a more fitting time and place (we’ll move forward only with the mention that 1) if you’re planning a trip to the Fancorn Forest we suggest you forget about it and that 2)
nomen est omen, at least when it comes to the newly named parts of Soreham such as Woid or West-Ermnot.). Now - to take us back to where we ought to have been the whole time but from where we have managed to stay away through the better three quarters of this rambling review… - let’s delve deep to the roots of the Wight Mountains…or maybe we’ll rather stay tuned and see what happens later…
[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]