LOTD Part 1

         Once upon a time in a Pan dimensional vortex inducers’ forged reality, there was a land called Second Cousin of Top Earth, a world of thriving creatures. Among these were the little ones, who were called Bobbits. Bobbits grow about 4’7” at most, and they are jovial, and will welcome strangers as much as they would threats to their meager existences. They have small feet, more or less, and have curly hair of all colors. They live everywhere they can put a house; in trees, holes, and anything like that. But I won’t go into details. We will focus onto our star, a 37 year old Bobbit named Hobo Buggins, a rich, handsome (not just on Bobbit terms mind you. He could pass off as a short Kelvin) and speedy bobbit indeed. Hobo is a relative of good old Muldrow Buggins, a 79-year-old bobbit, (not too old, bobbits can live for over 500 years) an adventurer and poet laureate. Muldrow adopted Hobo when his parents died (or should I say were killed?) after greeting a rogue Blorck (I never said Bobbit were all too bright.) and since then Muldrow was like an uncle to him. Muldrow Buggins himself was very popular with foreigners such as old Joseph Stormherring, (AKA, Joe The Shmoe) a wise old Wizard with green eyes and blue hair, and a trademark goatee that set him apart from every one else.
         Anyhow, legend tells of a Disk, the ultimate game, so perfect it had horrible side effects. Hundreds of years ago a monster named Bourbon forged The Disk along with a collection of others in Mount Kismet, and gave each of the Disks special powers. To the High-Kelvin he gave three copies of ‘Misildûn, Pro Skater’. To the Borff Masters he gave five copies of ‘Legend of Dorn-Kalëd, Pickax of Time’, and to the Homo sapien kings he gave nine copies of ‘Tetriod Prime’. The Homo sapien kings were easily fooled and loved the flashing lights, moving pictures and overall strategy needed to play the game, and played till they became the Razôr, Disk Zombies, forever doomed to serve the master Disk for all eternity.
         The other Disks soon vanished, and it was thought they were destroyed. Only five Players, the systems used to play the four Disk sets survived the long time after the disappearance of the eight. The High-Kelvin and Borff Master never said a word of their disks, or what became of them. The Master Disk was protected till a Homo sapien king named Misildûn, named after the Kelvin word meaning ‘Pro Skater’, stole it and sold it to a giant named Maul-um, who shrunk and went loco after a few hundred minutes playing.

         Now it so happened that during a bright day in May, the ninety-fourth on Bobbit calendars, Muldrow was celebrating his 80’Th birthday when Joe the Shmoe came down to The Brier for the occasion. He pulled up on a large gray dog, and jumped off and went off towards Muldrow’s large, lavishly furnished house on top a small rock hill. He walked over to the door and knocked, then Muldrow answered.
         “Muldrow my old friend. You do not know how good it is to see a friendly face after fighting off armies of tiny Blorck single-handedly, devilish little blighters they are.” Joe said gleefully.
         “The pleasure is mine, my old fatalist friend.” Muldrow replied as he handed Joe a cookie and seat. “But you have not come just for a visit, I suppose.” Joe nodded.
         “Yes, we have pressing matters to attend to. What have you decided about…The ‘Disk’?” Muldrow shuddered.
         “I cannot even begin to think about what to do with it, my fatalist friend. Ever since I found it in the sunny paradise of Maul-um’s field-type place, I’ve only found one of its many uses frequently useful, the one that I gain when I put it on my toe.” Joe nodded.
         “Yes… yes, I seem to remember that being you become a miniature dragon… But you mustn’t use it any further! We agreed we’d let Hobo deal with it. You remember what old Thorne Toiletbowl said before you parted up at the Forebode Mountain, don’t you? ‘Never use the Disk more than thirty-nine times a year, old Muldrow.’ He said as we went off on Spike. ‘Or certain death will come!’… Yes… and now we have… problems…”
         “What problems?” said Hobo, who jumped out from behind a clock, where he was hiding and listening intently. “I knew that Disk was trouble, but what good is it if Maul-um still has the only Player other than Muldrow’s?” Joe sat down, and stroked his goatee.
         “Well, Maul-um isn’t the only one with a player… Yes… yes… I found out that Bourbon, an ancient and evil childlike monster has located a second player… yes… and he plans to use it. If this, the ultimate game fell into Bourbons hands… He could destroy the world! A game this realistic has horrible side affects, such as delusions and other such things… yes… Muldrow… you must give me your player.” Muldrow backed away.
         “No… it’s like Level nine! The Blorck scouts are attacking! I must defend the fortress!” Muldrow screeched as he withdrew his Kelvin sword, Thwap-ping.
         “Muldrow Buggins! Do not take me for some connoisseur of moldy cheeses! I am not a Blorck! I am not one of those tiny blighters! I am trying to help you!!!” Joe yelled as loud as thunder.
         “Drama queen.” Hobo mumbled.

         Muldrow rubbed his eyes and stared at Joe. “I… I don’t know what came over me. I played it, Joseph. I played the game.” Muldrow burst out crying. “I must leave.” He said after he gathered himself together. “I must go away, immediately. Perhaps to Rancidsmell; I should like to see Smellrond and the High-Kelvin.”
Joe patted him on the back. “That’s a good man. Shall I send you off?” He said.
         “Yes. Just let me gather a few of my things.” Muldrow said as he ran off to his room. A few minutes later he came back with a bag attached to a stick. He handed Joe box and stood by the window. “Go ahead, Joseph.” So Joseph picked Muldrow up and threw him out the window. This may seem strange, but the explanation is just as strange; bobbits don’t like doors, they’re for visitors, bobbits enter and leave through what they call a ‘Pastern Window’. It all started with Wooly-Toe Burma, a respectable bobbit, and four-term mayor of The Briar. One day after his final term in office had ended, he was relaxing in his house when he heard a scream in the main entrance. He rushed to the door and there, lying on the floor, was his dear son, Moldy-Toe. He had slammed his foot in the door, and it was now a useless purple appendage. Thus, Wooly-Toe spent the remainder of his life working on the ‘Pastern Window,’ and made millions of carrots off the patent. He was paid in carrots only because that is the monetary unit used by the Bobbit people.
         So, after Muldrow’s departure, there were a few minutes of silence between Joe and Hobo, when Hobo finally spoke after Joe came back from Muldrow’s room.
         “What will you have me do?” he said solemnly.
         “You must come with me to Rancidsmell, there we can form a band of thieves and such people. Then we must travel to Fourdoor, a land of four doors… yes… I believe we’ll set out now, no provisions mind you. We will catch up with my friend Thriver, his real name will be revealed soon. Let us go. No, not the window, the door faces Weast, we must go due Weast till we get to the mountain of Mini-Wumbo, or in your language Small to Big Mountain. But first…” Joe went off into Muldrows’ old room, and came back out with the same box Muldrow gave him. Hobo tried to reach for it, for reasons unknown, but Joe quickly dived away, opened the door, and whistled. Up ran Joe’s gray dog.
         “Good boy, Incisor.” Joe said to his Witzen steed. “Carry this to Klergyman, run! …Well, lets go.”
         So Joe The Shmoe and Hobo Buggins set out to Rancidsmell and the mountain of Mini-Wumbo. From The Brier they traveled across the Brandy-and-wine River where they stopped for a drink. After they had gone a few more miles they reached a tavern named The Purple Dinosaur, (you know the one) home of the Werst, a drink that can get a Bobbit drunk in two glasses. They went in and saw that the only people there were three Bobbits and a tall man with dark brown hair and glasses on, who turned to face the wizard and his red headed companion.
         “Ah, Joe The Shmoe! I have not seen you for quite awhile.” Said the man, who was obviously Thriver. “Perhaps you have prepared for our journey to the mountain of Mini-Wumbo?” Joe nodded, leaning on his cane. “Well then, that is quite fortunate.” Thriver said happily. “I have just finished preparing. By the way, this is Heragrin Joke; just call him Harry, Klergyshmock Brandagrein; you may call him Leroy, and finally, Master Jerry Cleager.” Each bobbit jumped off his stool and bowed.

         Leroy had brown hair; a pair of green eyes that almost distracted you from his large ears… Almost. Harry had curly red hair, brown eyes and was taller (and older) than Leroy. Jerry was much different from all of them. He had short blonde hair, blue eyes and he was ripped. I mean totally buffed! He was one of the few bodybuilders in all of bobbit-dom.
         Anyhow, Joe was conversing with Thriver at the counter over a glass of Werst.
         “Well, we must set out before Razôr arrive.” Joe said, followed by a gasp from Thriver.
         “Do you mean the Disk Zombies have found us out?” he said as he picked up packs and fit them on each bobbit, and then threw one on his own back.
         “I am afraid so… yes…” Joe said quietly. “Bourbon has command of the Razôr; he controls them through his Player which once held The Disk for so many years. It has the power to control the Razôr, as the disk does when inserted into a Player… yes… Well! Let’s set off! If we hurry we can make it into the depths of the Dark Forest.” They left the tavern and went again due Weast into a large, blackened forest. They pressed forward into the shade of the Dark Forest, and soon, perhaps sooner than was wise, Hobo collapsed and rested against a tree. “I must stop, Joe.” He muttered as he gasped for breath. “I am beginning to run out of air.” Joe frowned.
         “Yes, I was afraid this might happen. The canopy of the trees in this forest blocks out most of the sunlight and wind, thus the atmosphere is clammy under the boughs of these trees. We will rest, but shortly.” Jerry dropped his large pack and took out a large piece of bread and presented it to Hobo.
         “Would you like some, Mr. Hobo? It’s buţţér, Kelvin bread. It is said to strengthen a man instantly.” Hobo took the piece of buţţér and ate it eagerly.
         “Thank you, Master Cleager.” Jerry laughed.
         “No need for formality with me, Mr. Hobo. You are the Game-Bearer. Jerry will do fine, I believe.” Thus the friendship between Jerry, Hobo, and the large supply of buţţér began. Meanwhile, across from Hobo and Jerry, Joe sat up and walked towards Thriver, who was sitting alone by a large oak.
         “And what about Bloâtïn?” Thriver asked Joe morosely. “Has Glowhan been besieged by the Alexin-Dai of Stormank?” Joe frowned, as if remembering a nightmare of old.
         “No, but I fear the end is near for the kingdom of Glowhan if they do not stand and fight… yes… Klergyman has control of Uglybard and Stormank, and plans treason… yes…” Joe said in a whisper, whilst fingering his Kelvin Sword, Shinything.
         Joe then stood and went towards the bobbits. “Come my friends,” he said loudly.
         “We must set off once more. The forest has become too quiet. I fear the Razôr are near at hand.” So the bobbits and Thriver reequipped themselves with packs and they all set off in the direction that they believed to be Weast, trying for the mountain Joe named for them to travel to.

         As the company walked, Hobo noted the strange change in scenery. Early on, the forest was more widespread with space between each oak, birch, pine and maple. The grass, though thin, had a soft feel to it, and there were scurrying animals everywhere. But deeper in the forest the trees grew closer together, and it was hard for the bobbits to maneuver in-between them. It was darker also, and the air was still.
         “Too still, if you ask me.” Leroy whispered, as Thriver lifted him over a large root. “I haven’t been in a place so quiet since I was a wee bobbit, back in the Brier. I fear some kind of devilry is about. I sense eyes, watching us from above. I suggest we escape this forest.” But unwary to Leroy’s words, Joe led the way Weast, farther and father into the silence of the shadows.
         “Hark! Do you hear?” Joe said as he propped himself against a large branch. “I believe we are near the home of John Windowsill. I can hear chanting of some sort far off in the distance.” The company hurried forwards and quickly came to a large clearing, and in the middle on a large stump sat a bent over man with hair that stood up on end, and clear white skin. He was muttering something to himself, rather loudly, along these lines:

‘Pick of the nose,
Punch of a fellow,
Tides and the current seem to be mellow,
As such are the wings,
Of an eagle in flight,
O lord of Jurinthak, Ruler of Kraal. ’

         Joe suddenly cleared his throat, as a notice their presence, and the bent over man on the stump jumped up, then turned and addressed them.
         “Joseph Stormherring! What a pleasant surprise! I have not seen you around these parts since the falling of Hermiston, Lord of Firthenwath. But I see you travel with provisions. I suppose you head for Mount Mini-Wumbo?” the man said, not waiting for an answer. “Yes, you must be. I suppose you’d ask my help? Well, I can give you a night’s shelter and set you on the road to Mount Mini-Wumbo, but alas, I have naught that may help you a great deal. But come, I believe Moldberry has brought back some Yitzhak.” Yitzhak is the Kelvin word for ‘Nourishing Stream’, and when the proper magic is used on it, the liquid Yitzhak becomes as nourishing as a nine-course meal with a vegetarian menu. The company followed this John Windowsill character till they came upon a large stone house, with flowers surrounding it. They entered the tall golden door to see a large room, walls enshrouded in flowers, doorways here and there, and in the middle of the room by a large table there was a tall Kelvin girl with auburn hair. She was pouring liquid from a kettle-like pot into glasses and then she sat it in the middle of the table.
         “Well, I think each of you bobbits can sit in one of my chairs,” John said as Leroy surveyed the chairs around the table. “The table is not as high up as it looks. Well, drink while I prepare some meat and bread.” John Windowsill walked off through a doorway, followed by Moldberry.
         “Who is this Windowsill fellow, Joe?” Hobo asked as he sipped the water. “He is a queer man, if I do say so.” Joe smiled.
         “Queer as he may be, John Windowsill is a wise man. Long has he lived in this forest, and many others like it, he was once Forest-Master they say. He knows his way around, and can help us find ours.” Hobo made a face as if to say ‘But I thought you knew where we were going!’ and Joe laughed a bit. “No, I had little or no idea which way we were to go. I was merely following chance by the heels, and decided early on that eventually we would come upon old Windowsill and he could point us straight ahead. But do not worry about anything. John is reliable and trustworthy, and has a good deal of strong magic should things fare badly. Come, drink your Yitzhak.”

         Hobo resumed drinking the ‘water’, but couldn’t concentrate long enough to swallow, and choked a few times. After about twenty minutes Mr. Windowsill and Moldberry came back in carrying platters of meat, rolls and beer. The bobbits eagerly ate and drank, while Thriver and Joe did little of both. After the meal Mr. Windowsill stood, and beckoned his guests towards a large sitting area. “Tell me, Joe,” he said quietly after Leroy sat himself down. “What business takes you through my domain?” Joe opened his mouth but didn’t speak, as if words had escaped him and he was dumbfounded.
         “We go to Rancidsmell to meet with Smellrond about The Disk.” Leroy said quietly.
         “Ah, The Disk… Misildûn’s Bane… I have not heard even a whisper of Misildûn’s Bane in hundreds of years… Do you have it? Let me see!” John Windowsill demanded.
         Hobo found that his hand had reached into he pocket, as if by a will other than his own, and took out the small wooden casing that held The Disk. He handed it to Windowsill and he opened the box. “Ah… You know, wearing the Disk on your index finger lets the real you be shown. A beautiful Kelvin with a black heart may have the prettiest of appearances, but the Disk might show otherwise. But the appearances this Disk shows has nothing to do with the heart of the one under the face... or something like that.” As he finished his sentence, John slowly slipped his finger through the hole in the middle of the Disk on his finger. Suddenly, John had disappeared, and in his seat sat a demon with horns as pointy as a porcupine quill; teeth that were long, sharp and yellow; and blackened red skin. “You see?” the monster said in a low grow, and then it pulled the Disk off its finger. Then John was back, smiling. “The Disk has no effects on anyone who wears it in my house, don’t worry. Now, you must be tired, Moldberry will show the bobbits to their room, and I will lead Joseph and Thriver to theirs.” Hobo, Leroy, Jerry and Harry followed Moldberry to a moonlit room on the northwest side of the house.
         “I hope these beds will suit you.” Moldberry said as they jumped into the beds.
         “Better than I’ve slept on in a fortnight, at most.” Jerry said as he lay down on his pillow, and fell fast asleep. Hobo however stayed awake for hours, lying and listening when he heard a scuffling sound in the hall outside the door to the room.

         Hobo stopped breathing and listened, and he hid his head under his cloak. He was aware of a sudden silence, no longer could he hear the hooting of owls or the distant howling of wolves, only the shuffling of robes and the light clang of metal outside the door. He felt a gentle nudging on his leg, and ever so slowly he looked down to see Harry poking at his leg with a ghastly expression on his face.
         “D-did you see it?” He whispered to Hobo. “It was small, but terrible just the same. It had armor, and a sword… Did you?” Hobo gulped rather loudly.
         “No… But I heard a sound in the hall, and once before I thought I saw a yellow glow. Let us try and get some sleep.” After that Hobo and Harry went to sleep, and were awakened by Thriver at nine-thirty in the morning, and they all gathered their things and followed Thriver outside where Joe and John were talking in whispers. Joe turned to Hobo as the bobbits walked up.
         “Well Hobo, John has agreed to take us as far as the Haunted Pass, then we should have only a two day journey to Mount Mini-Wumbo.” John began walking off into the forest, and the company followed. As they walked in-between the trees, Hobo could hear a distant calling, more like a whisper calling: ‘come to me… My own… Return... My Prizzed…’ He clutched at his pocket where the Disk lay in its case, but continued walking. By late afternoon, John led the company out of the forest, and they came upon a large, dreary looking road.
         “Here is were we part, friends. I bid you luck and good health wherever fate may take you. Farewell.” And with that the man named John Windowsill walked away, back into the forest, and towards his home in The Clearing.

~*~ ~/*~ ~*~

         “What is the Haunted Pass?” Leroy asked Thriver, whose face became gloomy at the mere mention of the pass.
         “The Haunted Pass is a rarely used road that was once the Trade Pass between the Kelvin and the Men of old, before Men became extinct. But then a great uprising of Blorck attacked the Kelvin folk who traveled the roads, and the bodies never properly buried. Thus they haunt the pass.” Ok, now we’ll skip forward two days. Hobo and Co. arrived on Mt. Mini-Wumbo where they’ve been camped since nine in the morning. Leroy has a bad cut on his head that started to heal and Jerry stole Thrivers’ hidden store of beer.
         “Well, you shouldn’t have hid it!” Jerry said when Thriver confronted him.
         “You’re one to talk! Look at what you did to Leroy when you got confused by that ghost trick!” Thriver retorted as he walked back to an empty hip flask.
Hobo was sitting by the fire Joe made, and was thinking about the mysterious voice he’d been hearing lately. Joe turned to him. “You’ve heard it, eh?” He said quietly.
         “Yes, I’ve been aware that Maul-um has been miles off, looking for his ‘Prized’ as he calls it. I have bad news for you Hobo… Yes… You’re about to get stabbed by a Razôr, tonight I’d guess.” Hobo’s mouth dropped open, and he clenched his sword.
         “What the fudge are you talking about?” Joe looked up at him.
         “It’s commonsense. Look, here’s how it’ll happen. First Thriver will say: ‘do you hear it? The Razôr are not more than two fathoms away, down the mountain.’” Suddenly Thriver stood up, looking down into the darkness.
         “Do you hear it? The Razôr are not more than two fathoms down the mountain I should guess.” Joe smiled, Hobo growled.
         “Well, now we’ll hear a horribly screech, followed by a faint call of: ‘you can’t have the Prized!’” Joe said quietly, and suddenly there was a stone splitting screech followed by far-off, deep and throaty call of: ‘you can’t have the Prized!’ Hobo felt a great amount of sweat build up on his brow.
         “O-okay… so why don’t you do something and save me?”
         “Eh.” He said with a shrug. “I'm a Fatalist, I believe all events are predetermined and unalterable. Anyway, now you’ll suddenly fall backwards and a Razôr will make himself visible, stab you, and we’ll stuff you with mud, and eventually get around to taking you to Rancidsmell.” Suddenly, Hobo fell back, and standing above him was a large beastly figure, with a pale and shriveled face, and tiny eyes. Hobo tried to scream but was unable to even breath as the Razôr pierced his kidney. Well, you know the rest from what Joe said. They waited a few more days, and began to run low on provisions and went on a one-day trip to Rancidsmell. So now we skip to nine days after Hobo was stabbed in the kidney.
         He awoke in a large bed, furnished with lace and flowers. After sitting up, he became aware of a Kelvin girl, about as big as him (so that’s about… 4’2”-4’4”), sleeping on his right in the most distasteful plaid chair ever, and Jerry in a chair in the corner of the room.

         “Who the fudge is she, Jerry?” Hobo whispered, so as not to wake the Kelvin girl. Jerry did his best to hold back the laughter building up inside him.
         “Her name’s Ellyn, she’s Smellrond’s daughter. Ellyn, Morning Mint of the Kelvin they call her. Let me give you the play-by-play of the events that followed our setting off.” Jerry took a deep breath. “’Kay, well, after we traveled around the mountain we came to the gates of Rancidsmell. There were two big Kelvin guards sitting on bushes when we arrived.
‘Who be ye? And what be thine business here?’ said the one who seemed biggest of the two. Joe stepped up to the guard and said the words: ‘Olly, olly, oxen free. ’ obviously Kelvin words, and the guard let us pass. Now, as we entered the palace-like Rancidsmell, an old looking Kelvin man walked over to Joe, and head-butt him.
‘I welcome you and your company, Joseph Stormherring. I have greeted you with the ceremonial head-butt,’ he said. ‘And now I must see to the Disk Bearer’s wound… Yes… He will be fine after he has some Kelvin medicine and rest.’ So Smellrond, as Joe told me he was, picked you up and carried you off, with me at his feet. Anyhow, I followed Smellrond to this room, where a Kelvin girl was sitting, talking to another Kelvin girl, much taller than herself. Well, the first Kelvin girl whispered something to the taller one and the tall one ran out, and I was almost knocked off my feet when she ran past.” Jerry took a couple hundred sips from a mug, and then continued.
         “Then the girl walked over to Smellrond. ‘Who is this, Father?’ she said to Smellrond. He looked down at her and said: ‘He is a Bobbit, a quarter-ling.’ then Smellrond dropped you, face first, onto the stone floor and walked out, then a moment later came back with a vial of purple stuff. He picked you up and laid you on the bed you’re in now, and forced the stuff down your throat. The girl took great interest in you. Was appointed your caretaker, she was. That was about three days ago. I got to know Ellyn in the time I was watching you, which was every few hours, but you can learn of her yourself. Joe told her everything about you, though she guessed a lot. He said something about a rash...” at the word ‘rash’ Hobo broke out into a silent fit of ‘Fudge’ and angry grumbling. “As for her sleeping right next to you in that ugly plaid chair, she must’ve fallen asleep next to your last night when you were screaming and had a horrible fever, which you must’ve gotten when Joe used you as his temporary fishing lure, and forgot to dry you off. Anyhow, she was watching over you all night.” Jerry snickered a little after finishing and stood up.
         “Well, I must be going. Joe will be happy to know you’re awake. I’ll be back by dinner.” Hobo would have yelled out, or jumped and ran, but he was suddenly aware of something. Ellyn.

         She was sitting upright now, and obviously awake. She looked at him for a few moments, and once or twice Hobo was about to speak, but he couldn’t work his mouth. Then she brushed back her long golden-brown and burped, louder a belch would Hobo ever hear (Burp, v. A rude sound made when carbon (or something) builds up and is involuntarily released. Thank you).
         “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed. “Quite sorry! I… do that sometimes when I wake up. Glad to see you have awoken Mr. Buggins. I am Ellyn, daughter of Smellrond, and your appointed, ahem, caretaker.” Hobo smiled weakly.
         “Well, thank you for watching over me,” He said. “But I'm quite hungry. So why don’t we- ARG!” Hobo fell to the ground as he tried to stand up. Then he noticed Joe standing over him.
         “Oh, hello Hobo.” He said quietly. “Just came for my hook.” He said as he bent over and swiftly pulled a fishing hook out of Hobo’s foot. Hobo screamed as blood trickled down onto the floor. Ellyn rushed over to him.
         “Oh fudge it all! Why the forthinlork was there a fishing hook in my forthinlork foot?” Hobo screamed hysterically. Joe lifted an eyebrow.
         “How else was I to hold you on the line? I tried tying a string around you, but… forget it. Well, see you later… yes…” and so Joe walked out mumbling to himself. Ellyn was a bit more compassionate, and picked up a pouch of miniature crystals and sprinkled them over the wound. Then suddenly, the wound disappeared.
         “Um… Thank you.” Hobo said quietly as the pain subsided. Ellyn smiled and helped Hobo onto his feet.
         “Quite alright. Now, I’ll escort you to the Dining Hall. You shouldn’t walk around to much, not just yet.” So with the help Ellyn, Hobo made his way into a large, sunlit room, where he saw a great table covered in food. He also saw Thriver, Jerry, Harry, Leroy, and Joe sitting and swallowing down food faster than you could say everything in this story. Ellyn helped Hobo into a chair at the far end of the table, and sat in a chair next to him. Hobo ate as much as he could, but felt a bit nervous and ate rather slowly, and after breakfast he was lead by Ellyn to an empty room, about the size of the den of his home back in The Brier. Suddenly he became aware of someone in a chair at the far end of the room. It was…
         “Muldrow!” Hobo exclaimed as he ran towards the chair. Muldrow stood.
         “Hullo my dear boy! I only heard about your stabbing just last night, when I arrived from visiting old Thorne and Co., and have been waiting for you…” Muldrow looked behind Hobo. “Been taking up with Smellrond’s daughter, eh?” Muldrow said, laughing at his own joke.
         “Oh, be quiet.” Hobo said angrily, not knowing he was also blushing.
         “Or-or, have you been engaged already?” Muldrow said in between a loud and uncommonly merry burst of laughter. Hobo felt quiet humiliated. Not only because of what Muldrow said, but also because he was now rolling around on the floor, laughing like a madman. He heard Ellyn laugh quietly, and say: “Well, I’d best go and find my father. I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the Council, Hobo.” After Ellyn had left, Hobo burst out at Muldrow, and the two bobbits fought for a few minutes on the floor.

         After a few minutes, both bobbits cooled off, and had begun talking idly. Muldrow did most of the talking though. “Well, as I arrived at the Forebode Mountain,” Muldrow said as he smoked a sock-pipe. “I found that the old gang was at war with a large army of Implin. I helped out, and killed a good amount of those fiends, and afterwards stayed with old Thorne and the gang, and mostly talked about our adventures of old, and I helped them dig a memorial in the mountain. Then I left, but not before I got a gift from each of them. See, here’s a mistral helm I got from Thorne, Chauffer and Bigblur. And here’s a magic ring from everyone else. It doesn’t do much, just let’s you see real things from you mind, in 3-D, mind you. Watch…” Muldrow took a green ring from his pocket, and put it on. Then a large glass of beer appeared in front of Hobo. He tried to grab it, but his hand went through, and then it disappeared. “Really not of much use… Well, here comes you sweetheart, Ellyn.” Muldrow said as Ellyn walked in, and then he burst out laughing again. Ellyn grabbed Hobo by the arm, and led him out, with Muldrow following. “Come,” she said. “The council is prepared.”

         Hobo was led by Ellyn into a large, open area where there were numerous people sitting here and there. There were two Homo sapiens, one of which was Thriver, four Kelvin, a three Borff, Joe and the Bobbits.
         “I'm glad to see you both could come. We were just about to begin.” Said the tallest Kelvin, Smellrond. “You, of course, know Thriver, but the man next to him is Gatomere. Two of these three Kelvin are my kinsman, and this younger one is Megalust. These Borff Muldrow knows as Boing and his son Pimply, and Jean-Pierre from Gloria.
         “Now, I believe you should all know a little something of your quest, should you accept it. Hundreds of years ago a monster named Bourbon forged The Disk along with a collection of others in Mount Kismet, and gave each of the Disks special powers. To the High-Kelvin he gave three copies of ‘Misildûn, Pro Skater’. To the Borff Masters he gave five copies of ‘Legend of Dorn-Kalëd, Pickax of Time’. And to the Homo sapien kings he gave nine copies of ‘Tetriod Prime’.
The Homo sapien kings were easily fooled and loved the flashing lights, moving pictures and overall strategy needed to play the game and played till they became Razôr, Disk Zombies, doomed to serve the master Disk for all eternity. The other Disks became unknown, and it was thought they were destroyed.
Only five Players, the systems used to play the Disk sets survived the long time after the disappearance of the eight. The High-Kelvin and Borff Master never said a word of their disks, or what became of them.
         “Now, for those of you who don’t know, The Disk, when put into one of the playantĩr, shows the words:

         One Disk to bring them all and in darkness bind them
In the land of Fourdoor where Four Doors lie.

         “You would think it was just a clever subtitle, but it is, in reality, part of the longer rhyme about the eighteen disks. The game is in the form of an RPG,
(Role-playing game, for those of you who don’t know.
* Smellrond looks over to Megalust, who is curling his long blonde hair around his finger. *)
And prolonged play of the game will lead to horrible side affects I can’t talk about in the presence of some of the people present.
(* Smellrond looks over to Megalust, who is curling his long blonde hair around his finger. *)
         “Anyhow, the Master Disk was protected till a Homo sapien king named Misildûn, named after the Kelvin word meaning ‘Pro Skater’, stole it and sold it to a giant named Maul-um. I was a member of the group sent to steal the Disk. Misildûn, his father and I, along with a few others, stole into Mount Loom to steal the Disk. Upon entering the first section we found the Disk, unguarded, lying on the floor, but had we looked up we would have seen the monster, Bourbon, lying in wait. Misildûn’s father, Miguel, went for the Disk, and was instantly felled by the monster. We had no time to grieve, and attacked with all our fury. Misildûn ran at the monster and instead of slashing at Bourbon, he threw his sword at him, and grabbed the Disk.
“We ran for our lives out of the caves of Mount Loom, and as we arrived in the borders of the Peloponnesian Field, Misildûn saw a giant coming towards us.
‘Who are you?’ it said in a booming voice. ‘And where do youse two palookas think yer’ goin’, eh?’ Misildûn stopped and a change came over him. He suddenly grew a pointy-ended moustache, and his voice became a bit higher.
‘I’ll give you this Disk, for that giant fork you’re holding!’ he called up to the giant, while pointing to the large golden fork in his hand. The giant, Maul-um, readily accepted the trade. Afterwards, I beat the tar out of Misildûn for trading the Disk.”

         “Well, that’s about it. So who wants to go?” Smellrond smiled as he looked at his guests. Hobo sat up a bit and said: “Actually, I really would rather stay back in the Brier.” Joe and Smellrond laughed.
         “Nice one, Hobo.” Smellrond said as he calmed himself. “You don’t get a choice. Joe and I are forcing you to go. If we asked you if you wanted to go, it would be a rhetorically polite question, which you have no say in. So, to be fair, I'm telling Thriver, Gatomere, Megalust, Pimply and Jean-Pierre that they’re going with you. Well, you set off tonight so go prepare, and you shall leave as the Companions of The Disk.”
         Hobo was quite flabbergasted. He was being forced to go destroy a Disk he couldn’t care less about, and he would probably ‘Never return to see the light of day.’ as Smellrond would put it after they returned. After the Council was officially over, Hobo followed Thriver and Jerry out to a large pond.
         “Well, I hope you’ll have a good afternoon, Hobo.” Thriver said gloomily. “It’ll be the last you’ll have for a long time.” The three stood there, watching fish jump out of the pond and occasionally spit pond scum at them.
         “If I don’t see another fish, I’ll praise all the bears I ever meet.” Jerry said as he got up, wiped the pond scum off his face, and went off. Thriver did the same, and Hobo went off to find Muldrow.
         He found Muldrow talking to Ellyn in the corner of Smellrond’s main room. The fireplace was lit, which gave the many maps and pictures on the wall seem bigger that they were.
         “Oh, hello Hobo.” Muldrow said as he noticed Hobo come in. “Ellyn was just telling me (Ha) about… HAHAHAHAH!!!!” He burst out in laughter and began to make a wheezing sound as he rolled in his cushioned chair. Hobo hid his face while Muldrow made a spectacle of him (and himself), when Ellyn suddenly got up and left the room.
         “Whoo! Ha, ha… Ok. Well, as long as you’re here, I’ll give you a few parting gifts… Here, you can have Thwap-ing, and my mistral helm. Well, Smellrond said to be off. S’aigt Munt, as they say… somewhere out there.”

         Hobo parted with Muldrow and went into the stables, where everyone going with him was getting saddled up. Hobo was lead to a rather scrawny looking horse that looked like it had been in a sauna too long. He gave it an apple and began to brush it, when it bucked up and kicked him clear through the main wooden door, and into Ellyn and Leroy.
         “What’s happening?” Leroy yelled as Hobo and Ellyn got off him. “Hobo! You need to be more careful around Buckin’ Lars! He loves kicking people! You can have my pony, Powderball-Cuddlemuffin.” Hobo was very angered at this remark.
         “Oh, so now I have to ride the Puff ball?” he exclaimed. “Who the fudge do you think I am, some kind of wimp? Well, I'm going to ride Buckin’ Lars! You’ll see!” Hobo went off into the stable. There was a thud, followed by the sound of a horse neighing, and Hobo was sent flying right next to Leroy and Ellyn.
         “What’d you do?” Leroy said insultingly. “Kick the horse?” Hobo made a very unattractive scowl.
         “For your information, yes.” He said with all the pride he could muster. Then Leroy went into the stable, and calmed Lars down a bit. Hobo eventually went in, and there was Lars, glowing red eyes, and saliva dripping fangs, nightmare-black mane… and did I mention his glowing red eyes that pierced his soul.
         “O-ok. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. But we’re going to have to-” suddenly Lars seemed to grow bigger and more menacing. “Never mind. I’ll walk.”

         It was around midnight that the company left. Smellrond, Ellyn and a host of other Kelvin folk escorted them to the edge of Rancidsmells’ forest. At length, they came to a stop, and were parted, but not before a few words from Smellrond.
         “Well, all I can say is get the heck out of here already!” he said as some of the Kelvin behind him started back for Smellrond’s palace. “By the way, you should take the gate to Gloria. That swampy region of mountain will be good for falling in.” Then Smellrond withdrew a sword from the hilt attached to his back. “I thought you, Thriver, might want The Sword That Was Stolen, or Perpetual, as I’ve named it. Well, be off before I call in the Witzen.”
Meanwhile, Hobo was at the front with Ellyn and Jerry.
         “It will be quite awhile till you’ll return I suppose,” said Ellyn with a frown.
         “But I urge you to come back alive. It would be quite a sad event for me discover you died. I would very much like to meet you again under more hospitable circumstances.” Hobo now frowned.
         “I should much like to see you again,” He said rather quietly. “And I shall do my best to survive.”
         “And I’ll make sure he makes it back.” Jerry said, making a muscle. “After all, I’ll have to put my biceps to some good while we’re on our journey.” Ellyn smiled.
         “And I shall thank you for it when you return. Farewell friends.” And with that, the Kelvin all went back to Smellrond’s palace.

         The company now left all the shining lights, food, water, and muck spitting fish of Rancidsmell, for a land of wolves, monkeys (not the flying kind) and more wolves. Jean-Pierre was rather friendly towards Leroy on the journey, and would occasionally carry him when the terrain became less than hospitable to bobbit legs. It had only been nine hours since they had left Smellrond’s Palace that they reached a snow-covered mountain the Homo sapien people called Fall-in.
         “How I do wish that I could be back at home,” Gatomere said sadly as he sat before the fire they had made in a crevice they were using as camp. “Sitting in my fire lit room with my sister, Jodie, and her friends, Kelly, Morgan, Lora, Kathryn, Josie, Molina and her twin sister Melinda, and Caroline and Stella and Sara and-” Joe suddenly brandished his staff and knocked Gatomere out of the crevice, and into the snow. He tried to go back in, but magic held him back. “LET ME BACK IN, MAGICIAN!” Gatomere screamed.
         “You can try to leave a message, but my spirit screens its calls.” Joe said continually as he ate a piece of buţţér. Gatomere was never on friendly terms with Joe after. Eventually the snow died down, and Joe let the shield down, and Thriver, Pimply and Megalust all went up the mountain to find a trail. While they waited, the bobbits sat together by the fire talking.
         “I once heard,” Leroy started as the conversation switched to Kelvin folk. “That Smellrond had killed a great king long ago. There was a rhyme for it… Ah, it goes:

Mr. Smellrond took his ax,
         And killed King Lop with twenty whacks.
Then when Smellrond was finally done,
         He killed Queen Lop with forty-one.

         “Rather strange, don’t you think?” After Leroy finished speaking, they were aware that Joe was chuckling quietly farther down in the crevice.
         “Yes, that is a variant form of the original, which, in Kelvish, is much longer. I don’t quite-” Joe was cut off by the sound of a horn.

         Jean-Pierre, Joe, Gatomere and the bobbits all ran over the mountain, following the path Thriver and the others had taken. As they passed a large amount of shrubbery, they saw something that made their hearts stop. There was Thriver, Pimply and Megalust, all fighting what looked like a group of scantily clad warrior-women, some in leather, and others in what looked like rabbit fur.
         “Wahoo‼ Who’re they?” Gatomere practically yelled. Jerry, the other bobbits, Jean-Pierre and Joe had already ran forward to the aid of the others, and heard nothing but the battle cries of the enemy. Jerry came up to one of the enemy, and punched it straight in the gut. It didn’t even flinch, and smacked him into a tree. Joe was having better luck however, and had already stabbed three of the monsters. The battle continued for about ten minutes, and afterwards, everyone but Gatomere, who had stood above the battle with his mouth open, was quite tired.
         “Help! Help! Jean-Pierre is wounded!” was the call heard from Harry, who was kneeling by the wounded body of Jean-Pierre.
         “I am very sorry *gasp* I must leave your company so soon, Master Hobo.” J-P managed to say before all life left his body. They mourned a little, but since no one really knew him all that well, it didn’t last long. They buried his body next to a stone that was lying near a mound. The stone had the words:

‘Here Lies Little Bo Peep Senior, a great warrior, and good punching bag.’

         But they scratched that out. Leroy placed a few flowers on his grave, and the remaining members of the company went back to their camp to gather up all the supplies and continue around the Mountain.

         “What were those things, magician?” Gatomere said as he packed up the rest of their fagots. “And why did they look like very attractive women?” Joe looked at Gatomere with a look of disgust.
         “You stupid buffoon. They are daughters of Stormank, spawn of Implin and Block, curse the little blighters! They are the Alexin-Dai, servants of Bourbon and Klergyman. Most likely, the ones we killed were members of a larger group bound for our destination.” Gatomere finished packing his blocks of wood and helped the bobbits pack up. Hobo now stood up to speak.
         “I seem to remember you sending something to Klergyman before we left Tag Row?” he said. Joe pretended to not remember, but after being literally pressed by Gatomere, he gave in.
         “Well, um, yes, I did.” He said timidly. “I gave him Muldrow’s old Player.”
         “You gave Klergyman, servant of Bourbon, one of the playantĩr! How could you do something so stupid?” Thriver burst out at him. Joe only raised an eyebrow.
         “Well how else was I going to make this a little more interesting? It makes a good story for future generations.”
         “You gave the enemy the only playantĩr in the possession of the Good‼” Thriver yelled.
         “Oh, stop whining. As a Fatalist, I believe that if we were destined to win, it wouldn’t matter. I also believe I was destined to give him one of the playantĩr…yes… Well, let’s get going. Gloria is only half a day away.”

         Eventually, Thriver cooled down a bit, and the company made their way around the mountain to the hidden walls that led to the abandoned halls of Gloria.
         “Gloria, land of my foremothers and forefathers.” Pimply said to the bobbits as they walked. “Its name in Borff is Hex-ladûne. It was made from the finest mud in all of Second Cousin of Top Earth-”
         “You could just say ‘Scote,’ you know.” Joe interrupted.
         “Oh, have it your way. In all of Scote then.” The Borff said with a look of annoyance. “As I was saying, the best mud in all of Scote, which came from small magma holes in the mountain, and were mixed with the toenails of the Lady Malarial.” There was a look of disgust from Jerry before Pimply continued. “Yes, the Lady of the Lane; the Lane of Lanorian for your information, fairest of the Kelvin, in my humble opinion.”
         “I have no doubt that she is quite fair,” Hobo said with a hint of irritation in his voice. “But that she is fairest, I hesitation to believe.”
         “And who would you, a mere Bobbit with less life experience than I, say is fairer than the Lady of the Lane?” Pimply said, fingering the handle of his ax. To this, Hobo said nothing, and they continued on for quite awhile, silently.




(You have to go to the continuation on what used to be my story: A Good Day To die. My stupid account is messed.)