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Old 05-24-2004, 08:03 PM   #179
Bęthberry
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Join Date: May 2002
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Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Bęthberry is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.
Boots Breezing Along with the Breeze

Alas and alack for the at last Shipshape Itship, the clang of kettle, pot and pan was not some kind of man. That had been a trick, an anthropomorphic misadventure, their eyes had played upon them. Slowly, as the rag-taggle band of heroes and goddesses searched their memories, they became aware of an even more improbable thing, something from beyond any myth they knew. Someone's memory was in overdrive, or, more poetically, they had stepped through a window that had opened on an alternate time and a light was upon an object for which they had no name. (One forest is as good as another for that thief called writer.) The clash and bash of copper-coated kettle and iron pot was coming from inside a strange, long, narrow house, clad in yellow and a metal as precious as mithril, and set atop wheels no less. Which said house was rocking and rolling, though not in a musical fashion, as now loud wails were emanating from it.

"I didn't mean a little place we could call our own and never go any where else," cried a female voice, the cry embellished by the ringing sound of a pan hitting a wall.

"But honey, I thought this was complete for you. Remember how happy you were that it came complete with everything, furnishings and closets and lamps and beds."

"You never told me this would be all there was," retorted the woman, her voice dripping with tears, which were punctuated by the ping and crash of multiple plates hitting a wall and not a few cries of "Ouch! Ow! Watch it!"

"What's the point of a trailer if we don't take it anywhere?" Cue the sound of more pans hitting the wall, this time in seeming syncopation from two directions.

"You said you wanted to make a home for me. Yę Auldë Forestë it is. I am Master here."

"Don't get all bossy with me. It's fine and dandy for you to run off and have adventures with hobbits and wights and then come home and expect me to be waiting here for you with dinner ready."

The sounds of pots and pans being kicked around the floor accompanied this shrill cry of petelant independence and, suddenly, the door swung open to the chimes of "Breezing with the Breeze', a hip song which somehow had found this window of opportunity to infiltrate the memories of the Third Age. Out came a vision of domestic bliss, less keen and lofty than any Merisuwyniel-inspired dream but definitely closer to mortal parts if not hearts.

She was clad in a fabulous dress of green chiffon with white lace. It sported a nipped-in waist, princess neckline and flaring swing skirt which flounced around upon umpteen layers of petticoats in time to the stormy shakings of her head. She had the uplift of a Saturn booster rocket and it was clear she was wearing a girdle. Her full lips, perfectly heart shaped, were red, her eyebrows, pencil thin, and her hair the perfect curly (golden)red which one day would be called a poodle cut. Leninia would have died for such lips and hips had she been willing to die herself. As it was, she satisfied herself merely with killing looks. And at the sight of this domestic paragon a spell was laid upon Vogonwë about the pleasures of subservience so that he immediately began contemplating a robust poem with which he would later regale the firmament--or would have, had Pimpi not herself administered a punishing kick to this bottom.

Suddenly, the sky was wracked with lightning and thunder overwhelmed the graceful caperings of the couple.

"Aw, come on, honey," pleaded the voice of the man who was exiting the trailer himself. He was a dashing caballero who spoke with a vaguely Cubadorian, er, Grudorian, er, H'radcal accent. His attire was as remarkable in its own way as was that of the woman, for he wore a blue, short-waisted windbreaker jacket which accentuated his legs and hips, all the more to show off his dancing skills, which were highlighted by the yellow golf shoes upon his feet. At least that is what Orogorn Two claimed they were when an astonished Thingship of one accord pointed to them. The man's dark hair was combed back from his face, in a high pompadour on top, in what came to be known as a jelly roll. He followed the woman.

"You know how you bring storms on when you get in a huff, Gucyberry."

She crossed her arms petulantly across her bosom, her fingers tapping upon her forearms and her feet stamping the ground. Rain appeared out of nowhere and began to drench the Wouldship as well as the two, who began to discourse some more in their version of sweet domestic bliss.

Chrysophylax huffed and puffed, his firey breath attempting to evaporate the rain but it came in torrents so heavy that his breath was extinguished. As it was, though, his breath managed to singe a curl or two of the woman's hair and she immediately turned towards the assembled guests.

"Oh, Ricky Ricadillo we have guests and our table isn't laid. Is supper ready?"

At the mention of supper, Pimpiowyn decided that this woman was a dangerous rival who meant to get to the heart of Vogonwë through his stomach. She for one was certainly not going to fall for this social panacea of the dinner table.

Ricky, who was in fact the coolest bandmaster ever at Ye Hippe Forecana nightclub, clapped his hands in rhumba rhythm and offered to refresh the Wouldship, giving Merisuwyniel in particular a very appreciative eye. She was much in awe of his attention, but like the dauntless goddess she was, she demurrred politely and said they were on a mission from Eru and designed to reach Valleyum with the help of the Velour but had became terribly lost in this tricksome Forest.

When Gucyberry heard this, a look of wifely, conniving intrigue came over her face as she saw an opportunity. She gushed over Merisu's quest.

"Ricky, honey, you can't dissuade this courageous maiden from her mission. The rain has ended. Let us now laugh and teach them the right road."

"But no one comes by Yę Oldë Forestë without spending the night under my roof or at my table," complained Ricky, who found quite enough to occupy his time in Yę Auldë Forestë.

Gucyberry walked over to Ricky and began to run her fingers over his ears. "Ricky, we can do both. You can drive the Mercury and I can make dinner in the trailer."

Gateskeeper ran up to Ricky at this point. "Say, son, is that a '53 Mercury Monterey? What horsepower do you have there?"

"It surely is, Pop. It's a 125 horsepower flathead V8 with 3700 rpm," Ricky answered proudly.

"You don't say. 255.4 cubic inch piston displacement?"

"Nothing less for my baby."

"211 lb.ft of torque?"

"She's fast and made in the shade," Ricky pronounced.

"That's one classy chassis. Cloth and vinyl seats and dress-up chrome mirror?" You could tell that Gateskeeper's love of technology was bringing out Ricky's vanity to the point where soon he couldn't say no.

"See, Ricky, you just have to show these nice people the powertrain and the leg room."

Gucyberry's pleading was too much for Ricky to take, along with her puppy eyes and melting pout. He nodded his agreement and plans were soon made to fit everyone into either the trailer or the convertible.

"We shall fear nothing," proclaimed Kuruharan and Gucyberry pronounced him "Smelf-friend," the first and only dwarf ever to receive such an accolade. Kuruharan surveyed the trailer, contemplating the potential for sales in Middle-earth should the Eye ever be defeated enough to allow a sufficient tourist trade to be established between Beer and Grundor. It is true that Merisuwyniel had some trouble persuading Grrralph to accept this plan, for the wraith was sure Ricky would be tempted to hold a knife to his throat, but Merisu finally persuaded him that Cubadorians could be as trustworthy as any denizen of the florida and fauna or at least as good for business.

So it came to pass that both Earnur and Orogorn Two vied to enter the trailer together. It was a tight squeeze for both to fit in the low door and they stumbled manfully in their efforts to avoid encumbering the other in their arms. Immediately, Earnur bowed, but hit his head upon the doorframe, which allowed Orogorn to attempt the entrance at one large jump but his prowess resulted only in his tripping upon the step, whereupon our two challenging champions decided to ride with that other venturesome fellow Ricky in the horsepowered vehicle which would draw the trailer. Leninia immediately chose to sit between the two in case a good game of back seat bingo could be had, even beneath the watchful eye of the wizard Gateskeeper, who sat behind them on the rear deck, with the rag top down. Chrysophyllax, far too large even for a thirty foot trailer, had to fly atop the trailer and stick his head in an open window while Kuruharan jumped into the front passenger seat the better to survey the prospects for trade routes. Vogonwë insisted upon offering help to the lovely Gucyberry, to which offer Pimpi scowled, but a scowl not missed by Soregum who lost no opportunity to be of service by offering the ample hobbit miss his arm to steady herself as she attempted the flighty stairs into the trailer, which nearly bent beneath her weight. Grrralph decided to ride atop the trailer hitch, covered in his cloak, the better to keep a suspicious eye upon this prancing Forest fellow while Merisu, determined not to be outdone in the sartorial category, jumped at the chance, but only in the most decorous manner, to explore the inner sanctum of Gucyberry's clothes closet.

Ricky released the trailer brake and lay a patch and the Monterey Convertible with the 32-foot, 3-ton New Moon trailer and The Last Hope for the Entish Wood sped out onto a highway, a window of which opened opportunely for him. And so it was that the Back-to-the-future-ship was brought to explore the simultaneous but sorry existence of Yę Auldë Forestë in the Seventh Age.
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