Part
II:
As morning
made her presence known, the guests gratefully retreated to their beds. The Princess said goodnight to her newfound
parents and in parting, they informed her that the wedding was to take place in
three days, at which Clarisse gaped, whereupon her mother informed her gently
that gaping was not a habit becoming in anyone, most especially a Princess of
Lofrenier. Clarisse yawned widely, which
gained her another brief admonition from her mother on the proper decorum
befitting Princesses of Lofrenier, but she replied tiredly, “I had best get
some sleep.” Her parents agreed and a
servant appeared to lead her to her chambers.
The exhausted and disappointed Gertrude followed reluctantly after. The servant eyed her strangely but decided
that this bedraggled creature must be the strange lady’s maid that had
accompanied the Princess on her journey home, so he said nothing of her
presence and admitted her Majesty to her chambers. Clarisse flopped herself down upon the grand
bed and groaned, “oh my aching feet! I
am to marry in three days! What am I to
do?” Gertrude lay half somnolent in a
chair and replied, “either marry the man or declare immediately that it cannot
be and thus doom these poor folk to their fate.” Clarisse sighed, “at least he is handsome and
rich. I am sure he must have some
musical skill. It could be worse. Besides, I am starting to like this Princess
thing. Though I must find myself a
better entourage. Gertrude, you cannot
be my constant attendant.” Gertrude’s
only reply was a hearty snore.
Once the
ladies had wakened from their much needed slumber and after a hearty repast,
the conversation was resumed. What was
to become of Gertrude? Obviously
Clarisse was resigned to her fate, but she could not abide having her nerdy
sister ever underfoot, nor would Gertrude be happy in such a position. “Perhaps you could return home,” mused
Clarisse. Gertrude gave her an
astonished look, “and leave my only chance at living every geek’s dream? I will make my own way in this strange new
world and forget all that has been before.”
Clarisse began to yawn but checked herself, trying to become the lady
she must now be, “sounds like a plan to me.
When do you leave?” Gertrude gave
her a pathetic look, that might have twinged what little heart Clarisse might
have at such a lack of fondness for her onetime sister, but it did not show
upon her countenance. Sighed she, “well,
I suppose you can come to the wedding, but then the entire Kingdom has been invited. Perhaps you can call?” Gertrude gave Clarisse a patient look, but
she seemed oblivious to the fact that it would be many centuries yet before
telephones invaded this hitherto peaceful land.
Gertrude
stood, saying, “then this is goodbye Highness, and I wish you and yours all the
best. Farewell.” She left the room and Clarisse returned to
her eggs, wondering if they might find her some ketchup somewhere. Gertrude found a servant and asked if she
might have an audience with the King.
The servant replied that their Majesties were not to be disturbed but
that the Steward might perhaps listen to her concerns. She followed her unhappy guide who handed her
off to the Steward and then vanished once more upon his own interrupted
errands. Said she to the venerable man
before her, “sir, I would ask what is to be my own part in this tale? My late sister is content to take her
appointed place yet I am alone and adrift in this strange land. Any boon you can offer me, gladly would I
receive it.” The aged man said
thoughtfully, “you seem an earnest maid and I have seen the disdain with which
you have been treated. If you do not
desire to remain here in the favor of our Princess, I will offer you what help
I can in equipping you for a life elsewhere.”
And in so saying he did. Gertrude
was soon clad as a peasant maiden and given a small supply of food and coins
and those things necessary for a journey.
She would rather have set out attired as she had arrived, but such was
considered scandalous by those about her, save in times of dire need when the
story required the heroine to garb herself as a man, thus to save her
life. So it was that she set out
sensibly, though girlishly clad, not knowing quite what to do with herself but
with a rising sense of hope in knowing that in a place such as this, surely
adventure must soon beset her.
She asked
directions to the nearest Fairywood and the man said, “what sensible maid would
venture thither? Only young heroes set
out a’questing would dare such a thing, but do as you will.” He then told her how to get there and off she
went. The King and Queen were much
disturbed to discover that the girl had vanished ere their waking, but dared
make no fuss about the matter for reasons of their own. So involved was Clarisse with her own affairs
that she was quite oblivious to the vanishment of her sister.
Gertrude
followed the winding road for most of the day, it was a pleasant land of
rolling hills and scattered trees, but the ever growing blotch on the horizon
promised a great forest lay before her.
She rested briefly beside the road beneath an agreeable tree to consume
her midday meal, but was soon enough off, hoping to reach that mysterious wood
before dark. About mid-afternoon, she
stood on the edge of the forest. It was
not one of those dark, scary woods where mostly dreadful things dwell, the kind
that grow about witch’s castles and where the undead seem to frequent; most of
the residents were probably very much alive, by the look of it. The forest was as pleasant as the land
without, she shouldered her satchel and walked boldly into the woods. One can tell much about a Fairywood by its
appearance, much as one can tell a lot about a neighborhood by its upkeep. No self-respecting vampire or evil troll
would be found in such a place. What
with the birds chirping, squirrels doing whatever squirrels do, and actual
sunlight reaching the forest floor, it was downright disgusting! There were no half-starved wolves, giant
spiders, or even cursed pools of water.
Instead there were bunnies, gobs and gobs of bunnies!
Yes,
bunnies, so many bunnies that the wolves were all well fed and no true hero
would dare show his face within such a place.
Even the trees were polite in this bizarre forest. Which is why Gertrude met Steve as she
entered the local chapter of the Fairywood.
Steve, as you can tell by his unheroic name, was not much of a
hero. He only hung out in this
particular Fairywood so the real heroes would not laugh at him in the cooler
Fairywoods of the world. When Gertrude
first espied our valiant subhero, he was locked in mortal conflict with a
butterfly, a foe almost as feared as the bunnies. It was hard to tell who was winning, but as
the insect was not even aware of the combat, it was probably a draw. Suddenly the subhero noticed he had an
audience and with one last grand thrust, the butterfly flew idly away as the
boy put up his sword. He bowed deeply to
this humble maiden (one never knew if a strange woman might not be a princess
or a witch in disguise, so it was always wise to be polite); she made the
appropriate gesture in return. Suddenly
a troop of the strangest looking creatures Gertrude had ever seen traipsed
between them. Steve said politely to
their lost seeming leader, “there is nothing of interest here my good man, try
the Dreadful Mountains about eighty leagues to the South. Good Hunting!” The goofy looking boy nodded his thanks and
ordered his motley troop towards the south.
She looked at Steve blankly and he shrugged, “just some lost tourists
from The Other World. They pretend to
come here and achieve great things while playing a weird sort of dice game,
sometimes their imaginations are so vivid they accidentally end up here in
truth. But there’s nothing of interest
for them here, but there are all sorts of Dreadful Things in the Mountains.”
Gertrude
shook here head in astonishment, wondering if that was what nerds looked like
when they grew up, a hideous thought indeed!
“What exactly are you doing here yourself, sir?” queried the maiden. Steve bowed expansively and said, “I am
called Steve, and I am not quite a hero.”
“Steve?” asked she, “just plain Steve?
What kind of a heroic name is that?”
He shrugged, “it’s not, but then I’m not really much of a hero. All my brothers went off to fight an evil
mage and got turned into quite respectable trees: oak, rowan, hickory. I went and he said he wanted to renew his
subscription to ‘Vile Spells Quarterly.’
“Oh,” said she with some disappointment, “my name is Gertrude and I am
quite alone in this strange place with neither kith nor kin, I had been hoping
to come across someone who might help me find my place in this peculiar
land.” Steve brightened, dug around in
his belt pouch for a moment, and pulled out a shiny silver badge that read, ‘Official
Guide.’ He proudly pinned it on and
Gertrude could only sigh, but could not refuse his help without being
impolite. Just Plain Steve led the way
deeper into the wood. Said he as they
marched along, “it was quite providential that you found me, lady, for you
undoubtedly need a place to stay for the night and I know the best inn in the
forest. You will never sleep better than
at the Inn of Glitch.” She raised her
eyebrows, “the Inn of Glitch?”
Steve asked
in surprise, “you have not heard of Glitch?”
She shook her head, “I am quite a stranger here.” He smiled in anticipation of regaling her
with his vast knowledge of this rather unremarkable part of Lofrenier. “Glitch,” he said, “is a prosperous community
in the heart of the forest. It is home
to many interesting people, some of whom are actually successful at whatever it
is they are supposed to be or do. The
rest are, well…outcasts, losers, failures, that sort of thing.” She frowned, “it is not a den of iniquity
where all sorts of shady characters can be found?” Steve said sadly, “it is nothing half so
interesting, actually it is quite a nice sort of community.” “Nice?” came the aghast question. Steve shuddered, “yes, nice. There is no more proper word to describe
it. Even the adjectives are pathetic in
such a place.” What kind of a town could
this be? She had never imagined anything
so terrible!
They ambled
along the lovely path for a good half hour until they came at last to what
could only be Glitch (not to be confused with the Dwarf Punk Band of the same
name). It was…well… nice! Lovely little cottages with well tended
gardens and neat shops (yes, gasp, neat too!) lined the cobblestone streets;
characters you might see in one of those movies with the singing mice smiled
and waved at one another and occasionally broke into a choreographed singing
and dancing routine. They stopped
outside of the inn, which might have crawled out of a little girl’s illustrated
storybook, and Steve asked proudly, “well?”
Gertrude shook her head sadly, “it is certainly nice, neat, and well,
rather dull.” Steve nodded, “it wasn’t
always so pleasant, but one of those good fairies came along and thought she
was doing the town a favor by granting the residents unending peace and
giddiness, such is the result. It is
nice, but it is also very dull, especially once you’ve seen all the chorus
numbers eighteen times. Shall we go
in?” Gertrude nodded and preceded her
guide into the picturesque inn.
It was
early in the day so there was hardly anyone about except a fat, smiling
innkeeper, the requisite cat on the hearth rug, and a few scattered individuals
who could not stand another spontaneous chorus of, ‘We Are So Happy it
Hurts.’ Gertrude allowed Steve to pull
out a stool for her at one of the corner tables and then seated himself. She smiled, glad to know that chivalry was
not dead in this strange country, nor was it even slightly under the
weather. The innkeeper brought them the
standard (and only) house brew while Steve took off his guide button that they
might speak upon non-professional topics.
She eyed him curiously; he shrugged and said, “it’s a living.” She nodded and he continued, “so what is
your…” She strained to hear the last
word, “my what?” He mouthed the word
again. She frowned, “my quest?” Steve looked at her with horror filled eyes
as the nearly deserted room suddenly burst into chaos. Any number of out of work and down on their
luck adventure seekers suddenly swarmed about the table. It took Steve ten minutes to quiet the giddy
throng as he tried to explain to Gertrude the dangers of mentioning the Q word
in such a place. She could see the
obvious results and promised never to do such a silly thing again. Once the assembled creatures were quiet,
Steve sorted through them with comments like, “sorry Chicamomicamar, not
today,” and “we are not really in need of your magical sneezes.” The disappointed has-beens and never-wases
left with slumping shoulders and teary eyes until only three remained.
A tiny person
stood on the end of the table, a llama with a horn on its nose looked at them
eagerly, and a cloud of greenish-orange gas floated beside the llama. Steve made introductions, “this is Melvin the
Giant.” In a side whisper he added,
“he’s really an Imp but he thinks himself a Giant; it was all those self-esteem
lectures they get in pixie school that did it, he really took them to
heart.” Louder, he continued, “this is
Ludwig the rhinoceros and Stench the gaseous anomaly.” Gertrude frowned at Ludwig, “you look like a
llama with a horn on his nose.” The
llama nodded, “is that not the definition of rhinoceros? Horned nose?
I am precisely what I claim to be.”
“I see,” said she, though she clearly did not. She looked at the gas cloud, “what is a
gaseous anomaly?” Stench replied, “it is
the result of a dwarf eating a deep fried burrito. The chemical reaction that occurs
occasionally results in a product with a life of its own. Like me.
Sadly, I am not considered appropriate in polite society.” Gertrude said in wonder, “you cannot help
your upbringing I suppose.” She
whispered to Steve, “why did you not get rid of all of them?” He said in an undertone, “I could not have
gotten rid of any of them if I had tried to be rid of them all. Don’t blame me, you are the one who mentioned
the Q word.” He said for all to hear,
“what then is our…agenda…my lady?”
Gertrude stared at him blankly and said, “I have no idea.”
The entire
company suddenly broke into excited cheers and eagerness lit their eyes. She stared at Steve for interpretation. He said, “most agendas that might be
attempted in Lofrenier are too dangerous, complicated, or important to be
risked by the likes of us. Your agenda,
what little of it there is, sounds like one we can actually manage and in
accomplishing it, we can become heroes and perhaps free ourselves from this
absurd nonexistence.” She nodded in
comprehension but asked, “then how do we know when we have accomplished our
task?” She smiled in understanding,
answering her own question, “we just set forth and whatever befalls us is our
destined adventure.” Steve nodded,
“precisely. We shall set out at first
light.” He glanced around, but a look of
disappointment crossed his face as he noticed that there were no shadowy
figures about that might be plotting against them. Only the cat on the hearth rug paid them any
attention at all.
They went
to bed at a reasonable hour and left at a quite unreasonable hour. Gertrude asked why they had been roused from
their beds in the darkest hour of the night and Steve simply replied, “that is
the proper hour to go adventuring.” She
sighed and continued to march along in silence, why did she persist in asking
such silly questions? The two humans
walked, the gaseous anomaly (hereafter the GA) floated along, and the
llamaceros trotted along with the Imp/Giant and the tavern cat on his
back. Why the cat had decided to join
them was anybody’s guess, but then who, in any world, ever understands cats? Gertrude yawned another silly question, “are
we not to soon meet a wizened old man to give us direction or pose us a
riddle?” Steve shrugged, “as there are
no real heroes in this wood, there is little need for a Wise Man, but Wise Guys
we have aplenty. I would be content if
we were spared such company, myself.”
The assorted company muttered their agreement, but as always happens in
fairy stories, once the question had been spoken aloud, it was not too many
chapters later that the prophesy fulfilled itself. And so did Hamric the Disgraced Comedian join
their enigmatic company. They found the
poor fellow sitting forlornly on the side of the road and though Steve hastened
their pace, it was too late. He joined
their party as they jogged past and immediately began telling jokes that were
old even in this Medieval world. Steve
said in an undertone to Gertrude’s aghast face, “this is what happens when you
inadvertently insult a witch in a nightclub.”
She shivered and hoped such a ghastly fate would never befall her. They marched on.
They
stopped at daybreak for a much needed rest and some breakfast. Hamric proved his usefulness to the company
by producing a Hat of Unspoiling Bounty.
He took off his magical headgear and from it produced a can of
semi-edible pork product, a plastic wrapped, crème-filled sponge cake, and a
case of diet cola. It was not the
organic, froufrou elvish fare sometimes found in such tales, but it kept them
fed, even the GA would not stoop to eating tofu though maybe the cat would, you
never know with cats. As they ate,
Gertrude asked, “are any of you going to the wedding?” They stopped eating and stared at her in
astonishment. The Imp intoned, “silly
girl, I am not getting married.” His ego
could not fathom attending an event not featuring himself. Steve asked, “you mean The Wedding?! I had not heard the Princess had
returned! When is it?” Gertrude said, “the day after tomorrow.” Steve paled, “so He has two days to wreak havoc
ere Happily Ever After sets in.”
Gertrude frowned, “who is He?”
Steve said in confusion, “you do not know who He is?” Gertrude shook her head as Steve asked, “what
world are you from?” She shrugged and he
continued, “He is the Dark Lord, the ultimate evil in our world.” She asked, “what is His name?” Steve shook his head, “no one knows. It was so long and unpronounceable that it
was forgotten long ago. He is simply He,
Him, the Dark Lord, or He Who Cannot Be Pronounced if you are being formal.”
Gertrude
asked, “why would He want to stop the wedding?”
Steve replied, “He cannot stand Happily Ever After, it does horrible
things to the morale of his Minions.
They get the idea that they should live Happily Ever After too. And we all know that is a ridiculous
aspiration for a Minion. A Minion’s sole
task in life is to die by the hundreds in pointless conflict, they can’t do
that if they want to live happily ever after.
So He will stop at nothing to see that it does not come to pass. We had better head back to the capital and
see if we can intercede between the Princess and the Dark Lord before it is too
late.” Like a well trained army, they
packed up their strange rations and marched hastily back the way they had come,
hoping they would not arrive too late.
Had the Princess known they intended to crash her wedding, she would
have refused to proceed with the whole affair.
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