[Annunfuiniel]

Hiya all!

Here's finally the long expected cameo appearance by moi! Sorry it took awhile; and another sorry for that my characters are so poorly described in the first post (that's due to pure laziness, at the moment). Also hope I handled Mr. Gateskeeper ok in my post...

Here are the character descriptions for Mord and the Broom:

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Character #1: Mordaenárur (aka Mord)

Race: Balfrog

Age: When asked about his age he raises three of his fiery fingers. Meaning of this gesture is uncertain: it’s speculated that A) he has never learned to count further than three or B) he’s (approximately) three Ages old.

Personality, appearance and background: Mordaenárur is, like every decent balfrog, a fiery spirit wrapped in shadow and flame. Maybe vaguely man-shaped but definitely not man-sized; beastly face, horny head and huge nostrils, as even the illiterates know to tell – though none now live who has actually seen him. Yes, Mord is quite an ordinary, thus nearly unbeatable, balfrog indeed, save for one thing: Alas! the poor devil has lost his wings.

How this disastrous deprivation actually came to pass is a total mystery to himself as to everyone else too: one fine morning he just woke up to the knowledge that he had no wings. The Wise deemed it highly debatable if he had had those things in the first place but to Mord that speculation was of no comfort. He felt, and still feels utterly…broken.

This wing-thing occasions a severe inferiority complex whenever Mord sees a flying creature and his methods of bolstering his low self-esteem are quite questionable, to say the least. (If I were a winged whatever I’d keep my distance to him.)

But why should the Itship be interested in Mord the Mighty-yet-Miserable? Well: because of his broom! For here indeed is one part of the Ent-That-Was-Broken – the Entish Broom-That-Was-Lost!

Character #2: The Broom

Race: formerly known as Ent

Age: the broom’s or the Ent’s?

Personality, appearance and background: The Broom was made from a shard of the Ent-That-Was-Broken by the cruel Orcs. But worse was still to come. The Orcs took the Broom to their lord Sourone who immediately had a devilish idea:

“Bring the slave to me! Bring her here!” he screamed and soon she had been brought in front of him – the Entwife! Sourone chuckled at his own malice and said to her;

“Here’s your groom…I mean broom.” After some more giggling - and whacking some orcs that had dared not to laugh at his nifty witticism - Sourone added; “Now get to work! This place needs a good sweeping!”

The Entwife was shocked, aghast, terrified beyond all measure. Bitter fate it seemed to her to get back his loved one, in pieces. She tried to talk to the Broom but it couldn’t answer - after all it was the Ent’s leg (Or have you ever heard of a talking leg?? ---Er..never mind…). All this was too much for her to bear and soon she developed a drinking problem which eventually led to her death (Never wondered why Moredough is such a dry place? Well, now you know…).

The Broom was forgotten for a while; till Sourone found new use for it. For he had learned about the Balrog that-lost-his-wings and he deemed as his duty to send the poor creature a ‘Get better soon!’ –gift.

And so they came together: Mordaenárur and the Broom. But their tale would have been a whole lot different if Mord’s friend – the Whizz-King of Angstbar - had not been in the neighborhood. As it happened he was familiar with the Entish Broom –lore and taught Mord the magic words that soon proved very useful. “Fly you broom!” he commanded and behold! A shiver, faint like a soft summer breeze in the boughs, went through the former Ent and slowly, very slowly (you know how slowly I mean), it rose into the air.

Mord was happy, very happy; happy like he had not been since the terrible morning when he realized his wings were gone. For now he could fly again! (Again, he was sure though he had no memory of flying – the poor, amnesic creature…) The virgin voyage was not exactly a succès fou as Mord tried to mount the Broom all fiery and flaming. And it was then that he learned the magic words had had other effects as well as the worthy Broom now turned out to be a very wordy Broom (with an infinite supply of rather questionable and most commonly ill-timed “wise” sayings and a liking for musicals, especially by Androgyne Boyd Pepper. And wait till you see him twist! You’ll surely get swept off your feet…).

“No Master, please don’t Master!” the Broom squeaked like the knees of an old treeish Ent (for it had not been a very brave Ent-foot in the first place); “For if you should do that I would burn! Burn to ashes! Flying ashes make no good mattress as the saying goes, nor are they any good to bear You. So You wouldn’t want to burn me, would You, Master?”

Mord was so amazed to hear the Broom speak that his fires were quenched. And the Broom was so grateful that ever after its deepest desire was to fly the Master wherever he wished to go. A beautiful, overcoming-all-obstacles-and-staying-faithful-till-the-bitter-end –kind of friendship had begun.
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Good night to ya all!

~Annun