Lord of the Mings:Fellowship of the Ming

The Lord of the Mings

Book 1
The Fellowship of the Ming
Based on the online story on The World Of Tytannis

Chapter 1: The Forming of the Fellowship
(Or How To Get Volunteered For A Stupid And Suicidal Task.)

“Ahem. Right, right, I suppose we’d better get started. Where was that bloody scroll anyway? Ah, here it is:
Many years ago, there was the Dark Accountant Sourtron. And he bred nineteen Mings of power and gave them to members of different races. These Mings gave them great power and they praised Sourtron. But there is always a price: In secret, Sourtron forged a Master Ming, to which all the other Mings were bound. A rhyme would make this so much easier to remember:

Three Mings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
(They're so cute and fluffy, I’ll never ever need my mummy!)
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
(look at them chew, they're pretty good at mining too!)
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
(Mings let you live forever...just for some small endeavour!)
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
(That'll teach them to play business with me! I'm the king and I like my fees.)
In the Land of Shmordor where the Accountants and Lawyers lie.
One Ming to rule them all, One Ming to find them,
(Meep!)
One Ming to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
(The suns gone! Someone turn a light on!)
In the Land of Shmordor where the Accountants and Lawyers lie.

         There’s the rhyme you young whippersnappers. Now let me have some peace would you? I want to have my nap. What? You want to hear the rest of the story? It’s very long, are you sure? Oh, all right then. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”


That year strange portents swept across the whole of Not-Quite-Middle-Earth-But-Still-Pretty-Close. So it was agreed that a great council would be held at the Elven Spring Fete, but unfortunately the fete was cancelled because of the weather.
A month after, the council is being held. Many nobles are coming to ask for El’Pondo's advice.
There is Amagone, son of Marathon, a random ranger from the North East, who will nevertheless have a vital role to play in the story. In the ranger circles he is known as Schtamper (Pronounced Ssh-tamper, which is essentially "stamper" with a stereotypical German accent) He sits easily in the uncomfortable wicker seats, as they’re still an improvement to what he’s used to.
Sitting in another seat is Gimlet, son of a dwarf who went adventuring with a halfling who stole a gem from a dragon and found one of the lesser Mings. Once you get over the tentative connection, you tend to do okay. He also has a very strong Dail accent. To you and me, that’s Scottish.
Not forgetting Legolamb, daughter of the Elven King of Mireforest. She's very good with a bow but she often gets mistaken for a boy. She finds it very annoying. She’s armed to the teeth with assorted weaponry, so nobody wants to be the one to upset her.
There is Gander the Scruffy, as his robes are always grey. You wouldn't know he was a wizard without his pointy hat and staff.
Also there is Badomir, the eldest son of the Steward of Pongor. He is a hardy warrior, accustomed to driving off brigands and insurance salesmen from his father’s lands. He looks a bit shifty but El’Pondo says he's a good guy so thats ok. Unlike Gimlet, he has a very refined Pongorian accent. And to us it sounds very English.
Then there are the halflings: They're a bit ignored really. They brought a lesser Ming to El’Pondo’s hall, so they're tolerated.
Everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats, waiting for their host to appear. El’Pondo is the greatest Elf in existence. He ran away from many battles, sang countless poems, smoked many pipes, and arranged many flowers. So the question on many people’s minds is: If he’s the greatest, what’s the weakest like?

         After about twenty minutes of sitting on the hard wicker chairs, El’Pondo’s enters the room and looks at the party vaguely. After about ten seconds of staring at them, he slaps his head theatrically.
“Of course! The Council! I completely forgot! Come into the garden and we’ll discuss it there.” Everyone follows him, Amagone and Gander making ‘He’s crazy’ signs behind El’Pondo’s back. He enters a medium sized marquee, out on the lawn, and sits down in the middle of it. After a bewildered moment, everyone else sits down too.
"You are all here for important matters and I understand that. So I'm going to explain everything." Everyone looks at each other. “But does anyone want a cup of tea first? No one? Well, I’ll have a cup of tea.” A random elf fetches El’Pondo a cup of tea. “Biscuit anyone?” The elf runs off and fetches a plate of biscuits “A parasol might be nice to keep the sun off by the way.”
“Would you start the Council already!” Gimlet explodes. El’Pondo frowns.
“Don’t be impatient. I was just coming to that. Now, Sourtron is seeking the
Master Ming he lost long ago. This Ming will restore him to his former glory as he has placed a lot of power in it. Then he will turn all of Not-Quite-Middle-Earth-But-Still-Pretty-Close into a maths nightmare!"
"This is all ver' nice" says Gimlet, son of Porkchop "But what does this have tae do wi' us?"
"Frumble, bring forth the Ming!" says El’Pondo. One of the halflings steps forward and places a cute and fluffy Ming on the table. It is seriously cute and fluffy. It appears to be a small gold fur ball, which has the cutest smile and the largest eyes imaginable on it’s diminutive face. Have I mentioned that it’s cute and fluffy? Oh. Well, it is.
"Then what are we waiting for?" shouts Gimlet. He raises his axe and starts to swing it at the Ming. And stops. "But it's so cute!"
"The Ming cannot be destroyed by any weapon we here possess, Gimlet son of Porkchop. It must be cast into the fires of Mt. Flump, in the land of Shmordor. Only then can it be destroyed."
There is total silence as everybody calculates the long distance between the Elven Council and Shmordor. It’s not a nice answer. Finally the silence is broken by Amagone, who asks:
“What of the threat of the White Wizard? Is he really a supporter of Daz? Also, where are the showers? It’s just I’ve been in the woods for ten days. And I kinda smell.” Everyone nods in agreement to his last statement.
"The showers are down the corridor, fourth door on the left,” sneers Badomir. "If you're going to get here, just on time, don't expect people to wait for you." El’Pondo gives him a look and Badomir is silenced, for the moment.
"As for your first question Amagone, you would be best to talk to Gander." El’Pondo finishes. The scruffy grey wizard in the corner smiles and blows a smoke ring at you.
"Daz probably does work, but I get paid to advertise Persil. On the plus side, I can afford to wander all over the lands on holiday, whereas Sandyman the White is always working all the time." Gander chuckles nastily. He doesn't particularly like Sandyman the White, as Gander thinks he's a workaholic, a megalomaniac and much more intelligent than he is.
“Oh, one more question.” Asks Amagone “This is a public space so why is Gander smoking?” Gander blows a smoke ring pointedly into the centre of the circle.
“Because.” The wizard stares at him. El’Pondo starts coughing.
"Anyway. The power of the Ming corrupts the very person who holds it. I remember when, oh what was his name? That's the problem with being as old as me, you forget all the unimportant stuff. He took the Ming from Sourtron, and went to the fires of Mt. Flump. But he could not cast it in. The question now is this: Who will take the Ming to Shmordor? Which of you is brave enough, clever enough and stupid enough to walk through Shmordor, on a hopeless and mostly impossible quest?"

   
Legolamb fishes a rather crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and scrutinises it carefully for a moment "I'm on my way to Pongor for a free haircut and Bleeg here needs some new brushes" A small, but immaculately brushed, Fluff hops onto the table, takes one look at the Ming and:
"Bleeeeg!" The Fluff disappears behind Legolamb’s head. It cowers there, occasionally taking a look at the Ming, which is smiling evilly at it and licking its lips.
"I guess that means that I can't take the Ming then." she says and then adds sarcastically "What a shame! I am heartbroken!" Badomir and Amagone look at her strangely.
“Well I’m heading to Mt Flump anyway to take part in a ski trip and survival workshop, so I’ll at least come on this quest, if not in charge of the Ming” Says Amagone hopefully.
“In your dreams buddy.” Badomir sneers. “I’m obviously the best candidate to take the Ming.” They stare at each other, the hate apparent in their faces.
“Now, now.” El’Pondo intervenes “Don’t forget that the Ming corrupts people. Therefore, one of you brave warriors must take the Ming and risk potential corruption, backstabbing and murder. Which courageous soul will take it?" The attitude of the party changes instantly.
"I'm the most knowledgeable and skilled in magic. If I’m corrupted, it would be doom for the entire party." says Gander quickly.
"Ah've got this unusual accen'." says Gimlet "If i tak' it it might ruin it."
"Can I use the Ming to become Ruler of Not-Quite-Middle-Earth-But-Still-Pretty-Close and kill Amagone because I think he's the long lost king of Pongor?" asks Badomir. El’Pondo shakes his head "Then I can't take it because I have an allergy to Mings."
Legolamb points to the Fluff cowering in her backpack and shakes her head sadly.
Amagone raises his hand anyway but El’Pondo appears not to see it. El’Pondo sighs.
"I propose we give it to Frumble. He has no useful skills so he is thereby expendable, and the party won't notice if he gets killed. What do you say? Voting time I think." El’Pondo puts forward his proposition. He also grabs Gander’s hat to use as the voting pot.

There is complete silence as everyone casts their votes.

So after the votes have been cast, El’Pondo counts them up.
"That's seven votes for Frumble, One vote for Amagone (looks like it's in Badomir's handwriting) and one for me?" He looks at Frumble suspiciously. "Well, the party has decided. Frumble will take the Ming to Shmordor alone."
"But, but, but." Frumble stammers, "I don't know the way!" El'Pondo gives him a map. "And I can be killed in one hit!" Gimlet gives him a suit of halfling-sized armour. "And I’m hopelessly outnumbered!"
"He's right. I think El’Pondo should go with him. After all, what has he been doing all these years since Sourtron was destroyed last time? Looking at the weed...s in his garden I expect." Gander sneers.
"I can't go. I'm leaving to go to the Grey Havens next week." El’Pondo sniffs regally. Everybody starts flapping their arms and making chicken noises. "I have a better idea. You can all go and protect him. And you shall be known as The Fellowship of the Ming. Now you have one hour to prepare and then I want you out of my house!"


Chapter 2: The Fellowship Find Their Foes
(Or A Brush With The Law)

“What!” The assembled party cries. “Bweeg?” cries Legolamb’s Fluff from her shoulder.
“You heard me.” El’Pondo sniffs. “I don’t have to take that sort of language. I want you out of here in one hour.” The party look like they’re about to argue but the arrival of large elves with the big muscles behind El’Pondo cuts short any debate.
“Wait!” interjects Amagone “Is there a party, shall we say, travel fund?”
We'll give you some provisions for your journey.” says El’Pondo sighing “And here's 10 Elven credits" He delves into his wallet and produces ten shiny discs.
Legolamb smiles “I beat you there El’Pondo. I have 21 Elven credits.”
"I have 40 Pongorian pieces,” says Badomir
"17 Dwarven ducats" says Gimlet
"I'm a wizard. People give me stuff for free; well, in exchange for not blowing them up" chuckles Gander. The idea of paying for things is laughable to him.
Amagone says nothing but empties his wallet very slowly. He has 2 Elven credits, 7 Pongorian pieces and 1 Kassivelian krote. Everyone goes silent and looks at him. His face takes on different expressions and finally settles on exasperation. “So I’m broke ok? Not all of us are minted you know!” The silence lasts a little too long.
"We have money!" cry the assembled halflings, breaking the silence. There is an audible releasing of breath. "We have 1,295,364 halfling ha'pennies!” Stunned disbelief emanates from the party. Are the halflings actually making themselves useful?
“Sorry li’l haflings. But becos o’ the exchange rate they’re ony worth 0. 647682 Elven credits altogether.” The halflings look crestfallen.
“Anything else?” snaps El’Pondo.
"Also could we have provisions, map, good luck and life insurance?" Legolamb paused "and some good hair products for myself and Bweeg"
“Not to mention transportation” Amagone interrupts.
The provisions El’Pondo sent for from the kitchens arrive. "There you go. I can give you good luck, but no life insurance." he mutters something under his breath. "As for hair products, use my daughter's." He gives Legolamb a bottle of water. "Distilled straight from the mountain streams. Anyway, elves always have marvellous hair, so they don't actually use hair products. And we would give you some horses, but nine dark riders sued us after we washed their horses down the river, so we had to give them our ones."
Legolamb tutted "you can't trust anyone these days" she says sadly "Oh well, I’m set, though another nights sleep wouldn't hurt." However El’Pondo is not fooled. He gestures towards the group and the very tough looking elves thunder forward. The fellowship allow themselves to be led to the entrance of El’Pondos house.
"A star shone on the hour of our meeting. A lot of them shine on the minute of your departure. Good bye and good luck." The door slams shut behind them.


“Well, I suppose we’d better get down to business.” Amagone cracks his knuckles “The most important thing to do is to work out which way to go. Has anyone got a compass?”
"Er..." Legolamb edges away and starts whistling, "I sort of lost mine,” she explains.
“Honestly, do I have to do everything myself?” Gander hurrumphs and takes out a map he borrowed from El’Pondo "It says here that we have two paths. We can go east past the lands of Sandyman the White, though he has become a slave to the Dark Accountant Sourtron. Or we can go north through the Mines of Mobia." He notices the others looking at him. "And I'm a kleptomaniac, if you really must know."
"Ooh, my Aunt Basil, twice-removed on my brother’s side lives there. He'll welcome us with open beards!" Gimlet exclaims. He notices them looking strangely at him. “All dwarves a’ male, even the female ones.” He tries again. “they’re a’ called he, okay?”
"But I alone know what the dwarfs awoke in the darkness. Their mining awoke a nameless terror,” says Gander.
"What is it then?" sneers Badomir.
"It's nameless! I can't tell you!"
"Then make up a name" suggested Legolamb kindly "What about ...Colin?"
“Colin?” exclaims Badomir in disbelief. Then he catches the look on Legolambs face. “Fine, fine, Colin it is.”
"Well, Sandyman’s tower blocks the valley which is quite warm so we'd have to go over the mountains to get past. That'll be cold. The mines of Mobia will be warm at least, but there’ll be Colin the nameless terror to get past.” explains Gander.
“Well I choose the mines. Its much easier to, ahem, "dispose" of someone when they have fulfilled their usefulness, or just plain get on our nerves. Also, Gimlet has relations there so there is also the remote chance of supplies. And they can’t be any worse than the London Underground.” Amagone adds his point of view.
“It depends how hot it is.” counters Legolamb. “But I agree - I absolutely hate Sandymans hair."
"Um, why did everyone look at me when Amagone said 'It’s much easier to, ahem, ‘dispose’ of someone'?" says Frumble confusedly.
"It's because they want to promote you to, er, ah “glory”” says Badomir, in a seemingly kindly voice.
"Off to the mines then. Its four days trek southeast of here. Let’s march!" says Gander.


And so the first day of the Fellowships journey is completely uneventful as they pass through the woodlands south of El’Pondos lands. It gets dark and of course the arguments begin…


“Where’s the shower?” shouts Legolamb. “I need to wash my hair.”
“Forget the shower, we need to get a fire lit. No, don’t let Gander light the fire, Gander stop! Amagone, help me put out this fire, or we’ll burn down the forest. Where is Amagone?” Shouts back an annoyed Badomir.
“He’s gone tae do sum huntin’. Can you help me catch the ha’flings? Ah cannae get them tae sit still.”
“No, I really need to wash my hair. It’s gone all matted and I’m getting split ends.”
“Wheee! I’m a Nazbull! Tig, you’re the Nazbull now!” The halflings run around excitedly.
“Listen, help me put this flaming fire out and then I’ll help you find somewhere to wash your hair. Ok?”
“The fire’s getting pretty big.” Says Legolamb cautiously.
“That’s why I need you to help, you stupid elf!”
“Who are you calling stupid, smelly human?” Legolamb spins round, her fists ready. Fortunately, Amagone takes this moment to walk in.
“Hey, guys. What’s happening? Hey, isn’t anyone going to put out that fire?” He empties his water skin onto it. Gander looks sheepish. While the halflings turn to look at Amagone, Gimlet rounds them up. Badomir and Legolamb look at their fists, and turn them into handshakes instead. “There’s a photogenic waterfall back there, which anyone could use to wash themselves.”
“Yay!” Legolamb grabs her bottle of water and runs off to the waterfall.
“And I’m cooking dinner.” But then Amagone mutters under his breath “Only because I don’t trust any of you not to poison me or ruin the food.”


“That was a nice dinn’r Amagone.” Gimlet wipes his mouth. “What was it anyway?”
“That’s by the by.” Says Amagone hurriedly. “All that remains is who takes watch.” Everyone looks away, too plainly thinking of their feet. “I think we should draw lots for who takes watch. As a matter of fact, here’s some in my pocket.” Amagone starts handing out a straw to each member of the fellowship.
“Wait a minute. Where’s your straw?” asks Gander
“Well, you wouldn’t want me getting an unfair advantage seeing as I’m organising the draw.” Amagone replies reasonably. Gander stops and tries to think, but just as he’s about to voice the essential wrongness with that argument Legolamb quickly buts in:
“I can’t take a straw, as I have to look after Bleeg, which is a very tiring opportunity.” Amagone speedily hands out the rest of the straws before the rest of the party can make any more excuses. There is complete silence as everybody looks at his or her straws.
“I win!” says Frumble “I got the little one!” Everyone sighs with relief.
“'Tis your job tae watch the camp then, lil' hafling." booms Gimlet.
"Yay!" says Frumble "I've got an important job! I have to guard you all while you sleep! I'm not completely ineffectual; just because I'm useless in a fight doesn't mean I'm worthless!"
And with that, the party snuggles down for a good nights sleep.


Well, it would have been a good night’s sleep. Except the fellowship is woken, pretty unexpectedly, at 2:00 in the morning (Yes, I know it’s usually midnight, but probability says it must happen at 2:00 sometime.) I say unexpectedly, because no one was expecting a round of Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor being played on a portable accordion.
“Turn off that music!” Gimlet shouts, loudly.
“Bloody inner city kids.” Grumbles Legolamb, as she turns over.
“Bleeg.” The fluff nods its agreement. Unfortunately, the music gets louder and more climatic. Suddenly there is a crash of cymbals and a scream. Amagone sighs, and sits up.
“Maybe by night the halflings are competent musicians? Gander, is that true?”
Gander gets up and wipes his eyes. "Well it depends. But they definitely don't play classical music for no reason whatsoever. Usually at important events, like a boss battle or when they're dying.” The music changes to a funeral march. “Or he could be in trouble. But that's alright, as long as he didn't go off with the Ming we can plug our ears and ignore it.”
“Speakin’ o’ which, where is the Ming?” asks Gimlet. There is a silent think among themselves, and everyone looks at Badomir. He looks affronted.
“I resent the allegations that I would have taken it. If you really want to know, then I’m assuming Frumble still has it. So we should probably go and find him.” Everyone grumbles at this suggestion but they pull on their armour and grab their weapons. With all the loud music, they manage to found the source of the racket on their second try.

The fellowship enters a small woodland clearing, and a strange sight awaits them. Sprawled at the base of a tree, is Frumble, the Ming grasped tightly in his hand. (It doesn't like that treatment by the way. It glowers at everyone. But in a cute way.) Opposite him are five dark robed figures, which are walking slowly closer.
"BY CHAPTER 12, PAGE 457, AMENDMENT 5b, SMALL-FOOTNOTE-AT-THE-BOTTOM-OF-THE-PAGE, YOU WILL GIVE ME THE MING." Rumbles the middle figure that looks like the leader.
Frumble shakes his head defiantly, obviously scared witless. "No, I can't! But no more, please!"
"THEN YOU MUST FILL IN” There is a pause for dramatic effect “YOUR COUNCIL TAX REBATE FINE REPORT REPRESENTATION SYSTEM FORM!" And he draws out a huge book from his robes and tilts his bony hand towards Frumble.
Suddenly a loud note is played from the other side of the clearing. There is a man, dressed flamboyantly, with almost every musical instrument you could think off. He winks at Amagone, takes a deep breath and starts the opening bars of 'Land of Hope and Glory'
Amagone takes out his sword but in a last ditch effort tries “Ha! But Frumble is technically a student. He is exempt from council tax!”
"Does he own a house?" Enquires Legolamb, with a very frightened Bleeg burrowing down her top in an attempt to escape "legally, I mean, because the house he was living in still belonged to his uncle or whoever he is. So, legally, since he does not legally own a living dwelling he doesn't pay council tax." She frowns for a moment "And there isn't any council from where he is from...it hasn't been invented yet." She looked round at her companions who were staring at her open mouthed. "What?"
“I’ll have to admit, that was a pretty good argument.” Gander concedes.
“Yeah, the fact it made sense at all was a surprise.” retorts Badomir.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Legolamb takes out her bow. The dark figure coughs, trying to retain some of the attention.
"HOWEVER," It intones "HE DID NOT PAY HIS INHERITANCE TAX WHEN HE ACQUIRED THE HOUSE WHERE HIS ADOPTED FATHER USED TO LIVE AFTER HE MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARED. ALSO, AMAGONE YOU ARE ACCUSED OF TRESPASSING AND YOU LEGOLAMB ARE ACCUSED OF CAPTURING AN ENDANGERED SPECIES AND HAVING LONG HAIR. AND THE REST OF YOU ARE ACCUSED OF HAVING CONCEALED WEAPONRY.”
”They're nay concealed anymore, friend." says Gimlet, taking out his axe. Gander, Badomir and the miscellaneous halflings follow suit, Badomir glaring at Legolamb.
“I have diplomatic immunity.” Legolamb says mildly, notching an arrow onto her bow.
“And what about the right to roam act? And depending on how much Frumble inherited, he may again be exempt from inheritance tax.” Amagone extends his original argument.
"And someone has to be missing for seven years before they are presumed dead and his uncle has only been missing for 6 years and 360 days. You're a few days too early, you could be sued for that you know" Gander joins in, borrowing Legolamb’s argument. The figure stops and thinks.
“YOU MAY HAVE A POINT. HOWEVER, THE MING THAT HALFLING IS HOLDING IS STOLEN PROPERTY. IT BELONGS TO MY EMPLOYER, THE DARK ACCOUNTANT SOURTRON. HERE ARE THE WRITS, CLEARLY STATING OWNERSHIP OF THE MING TO THE DARK ACCOUNTANT SOURTRON IN THE YEAR 467. IT IS SIGNED BY SIX WITNESSES, AND IT WAS PLUNDERED OFF HIS BODY WHEN HE WAS DEFEATED IN THE BATTLE AT THE LAST GATE." He sighs, his voice a guttural crackle. "IF YOU JUST GIVE ME THE MING, WE WILL NOT HAVE TO TAKE LEGAL ACTION."
"How?" asks Legolamb "To my knowledge all the deputy lawyers, clerks, judges, deputy judges, clerks of the court and practically everyone connected with law apart from the cleaners are on strike for unfairer laws at the moment and then they are all on holiday for three weeks!" The figure laughs:
“HA HA HA. I AM THE LAWYER KING, AND I NEVER STOP WORK. I NEED NO UNDERLINGS TO IMPEDE ME IN MY DUTY.”
“Erm, well, sue this!” And Amagone attempts to cut the Lawyer Kings head off with his sword.
“Great comeback Amagone. We can see now why you’re the destined king of Pongor,” sneers Badomir sarcastically.
“Would you do something useful for once, Badomir?” Amagone shouts back, slightly distracted. The Lawyer King blocks Amagones sword easily with his Book Of Law And Order.
"IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? ACCOUNTANTS, GET THEM!" The other four figures flanking the Lawyer King charge at the fellowship, brandishing abacuses.

“Death to the enemies of men! May the glory/stench of Pongor destroy you!” Badomir utters his battle cry, and the accountant replies after his own fashion. There are many cries of pain as the differential calculus embeds itself in Badomir’s body.
Gimlet fares slightly better, responding to the accountant’s burning desire to smash an abacus over his head, by hitting the accountant in the leg with his axe. That usually distracts people.
Gander shouts "Boom, boom!" and fires a fireball out of his staff where it collides with the ink-ball from the accountant’s pen. They collide with an impressive ‘pop’
The halflings jump onto the remaining accountant, and try to grapple it, completely unsuccessfully.
The Lawyer King laughs and starts to mumble strange mystic lawyer language under his breath. But just as he finishes casting, Amagone grabs his tie and yanks with extreme force. The Lawyer King gasps, and finishes the spell, waving his hand randomly. There is a shriek of pain from Frumble, who falls to the floor, clutching his head.
“GIVE ME THE MING!” shouts the Lawyer King, rather hoarsely.
“Doesn’t anyone realise that fighting really messes up my hair?” mutters Legolamb. She sighs, looks at Badomir writhing on the ground and fires an arrow into the accountant that is having so much fun torturing him. Amagone tightens his grip on the Lawyer King’s tie,
“Listen! Frumble cannot give up the Ming as he is innocent until proven guilty! If you have a problem, come back here with a court order. Got it?”
“With his full name and details.” Adds Legolamb absentmindedly. The battle appears to slow for a moment, as the Lawyer King sinks into thought again.
And then he clutches Amagone and throws him away as if he was nothing. Straightening his tie, he says "YOU IGNORANT FOOLS. I SHALL RETURN WITH A COURT ORDER, AND THEN JUSTICE SHALL BE SERVED. MARK MY WORDS. ACCOUNTANTS, COME!" He clicks his fingers and the accountants stop fighting and look at him.
Of course, at this point Badomir, Gander, and Gimlet take a free attack at the fools stupid enough to turn their backs on an opponent. The King waves a hand and they all turn into a black mist, and disappear, leaving a sobbing Frumble on the ground.
“I don't understand! There are so many pages! I'll never be able to complete it!” Gimlet walks over and comforts him.
“There, there, lil’ ha’fling. Do you still hav’ the Ming?” Frumble nods, and raises an extremely cute and very squeezed Ming. There is a ragged cheer from the rest of the party. Except from Gander, who felt it was much too short and he didn’t get to use enough destructive spells. Suddenly the music, which had been fading so nicely into the background during the battle, changes into the random battle victory music from a game called Final Fantabydoobie 7. Everyone turns to look at him, and the man shifts uneasily.
“Good morn, valorous heroes?”

Chapter 3: The Problem with Passwords
(Or What Happens When You Delete All Your Temporary Internet Files)

"Lets see. That's the cheesy nibbles over there, a six pack of lager chilling in the fridge and orcball starts at 2:30. There, everything's ready." Sandyman steps back and smiles in the knowledge of a job well organised.
Suddenly there is a loud booming noise from the door. "Ah, that'll be them." Sandyman rushes over and pulls it open. "Radaghast! Good to see you, how's it hanging?" This is addressed to the leading man, a scruffy man dressed in shades of brown.
"Hey there Sandyman dude. Sorry 'bout the door mate. I didn't know it would bang like that, y'know?" Sandyman waves a hand airily.
"Nah, doesn't matter anyway. The door was built like that. Come inside, sit down." Radaghast enters, and gives his cloak, staff and pointy hat to Sandyman who hangs it on a stand. Radaghast was always like that, his sense of cool a bit outdated, his speech peppered with ‘dude’ and ‘cool, man’ but a good guy nevertheless. His hat, in deference to his coolness, is slanted, its point bent over at the back.
"Good afternoon Sandyman." says the second visitor. This man is dressed all over in black and wearing a suit. Unlike Radaghast, his hat is stiff, giving the impression of too much starch. "I see you are still living, therefore you are doing well."
"Come in Sourtron, you sit down too. How's your eye?" He takes Sourtrons accoutrements and hangs them up as well.
"It still plagues me.” He sighs “However, my operation is coming up soon and then it will no trouble me no more."
They all sit down, Radaghast lounging on the sofa, Sourtron sitting as straight as Isentart tower and looking around carefully.
"So." starts Sandyman "You guys been busy? Sourtron?" Sourtron shrugs.
"Not overly. Oh, I finally found out which minions stole my favourite Ming though."
"Hey man, that's cool. Who are they?" Radaghast asks. Sourtron hesitates. He looks at Sandyman carefully.
"Sandyman is not going to like it. I fear he may do something foolish."
"Hey, what's the worst it could be? Just tell me!" Sourtron swallows.
"You remember Gander from school?" The dark wizard says slowly. An extremely long pause follows. Sandyman's eyes go misty, the sure sign of someone having a flashback. His fists are also clenched, another bad sign.

Sandyman sitting at a table reading a book on Basic Magisite Theory and eating his lunch. Gander comes behind and pushes Sandyman’s head into his food. Gander and cronies walk away laughing. Radaghast comes over and attempts to cheer him up.

Radaghast gets up and looks at him.

Gander pushing Sandymans head in the toilet.

"He looks spaced out, dude. What do we do?"

Sandyman has just created a small Ming from scratch, and is feeling very proud. Gander wants it. Sandyman says no. Gander punches Sandyman in the stomach and takes the Ming. Sourtron lets him have his spare to stop him failing his Creation of Magical Creatures exam.

"There is but one cure." Sourtron sighs.

Gander’s cronies beating up Sandyman.

"Whats's that, man?" asks Radaghast, quickly loosing his cool.

Gander pushing Sandyman in the mud just before his interview for his first job. Sandymans restraint snapping and blasting Gander with his staff. Sandyman disqualified for anger management issues and improperly dressed.

Sourtron unfolds from the sofa and places his head next to Sandymans ear. He cups his hands so that Radaghast can't hear. "Sandyman, someone has swapped your Daz with Persil."
And with a start, Sandymans eyes flash back to normal, his fists unclench and he stands up straight so quickly, that Sourtron almost falls over. "NO!"
Sourtron smiles smugly. “I knew that would work.”


Gander’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Hey, I’ve got a good idea. It would be a shame to waste the rest of my spells for today; Lets slaughter this bard so I can get the practise."
“Stay your hand, valiant one. For I am Brian, the Bard. And it would be an honour to sing your praises and of your heroic exploits.
For it is also my fate to play appropriate music at any occasion. For have you not wondered in cinematic recordings, why there is always music at important points? That is I, gracing the world with many movie soundtracks.
Do not fear, for I have played at many occasions: Hippy Plotter and the Philip sofas rock, Parrots of the Caribbean, and of course Monti Snake and the Celestial Cup.” The Bard would probably have continued like this, if Badomir hadn’t uttered a visceral growl and lunged at him.
“It was you!" He snarls at the Bard. "You were the one who made me look like a coward! 'Brave, brave Sir Robin' I am going to wring your neck, you minstrel!” Shouts Badomir in his extremely english accent.
“Oh? How did that go?” asks Legolamb in the most innocent voice she can muster. Gander and Gimlet grab Badomir’s shoulders in the hope of restraining him. He throws Gander off but Gimlet hangs there like a limpet on a rock.
“Calm down Badomir.” Amagone says calmly. “Maybe the Bard can be used as cannon fodder, er, I mean to use his music to soothe the savage beast.” Badomir stops, thinks this over, and smiles very slowly.
The Bard backs off gently. "I also have another amazing power. It doth be the power to disappear and only reappear when the day is long and important to the success of the story. Farewell my friends, may we meet again soon."
And the Bard shows off his amazing power. To the layman it looks uncommonly like the power of running away.


Twenty minutes later, Badomir’s fingers stop twitching. "You know I hate the way I'm forced to play characters that get killed off for the good of the story. In Hippy Plotter I played Quibble, the guy who had Vanitymorts head. In Parrots of the Caribbean I played Babosa. And in Monti Snake, I fell into the bottomless abyss because they ran out of actors. At least I won't get killed in this story." He finishes, slightly happier than when he started. Everyone is silent, thinking along the lines of ‘He did read the script didn’t he?’
“I would have liked to hear that song.” Says Legolamb sadly “Oh well, we’ll probably bump into the Bard again later.”
“And I’m off to bed,” yawns Gander “You guys coming or not? Amagone?” The ranger is deep in thought, wondering who really is going to be the next King/Steward of Pongor at the end of all this.
“Well, ahm off tae bed onyway.” Gimlet rounds up the halflings and they walk back. Badomir sheathes his sword and, rubbing his wounds gingerly, sets off back to the camp. Legolamb and Amagone follow, contemplating the incomprehensible mysteries off the universe. Or where the next meal is coming from, whichever is more important.
Meanwhile, not too far away…


“Right. I’ll just log into my account and then we can watch the orcball. Uruks Disunited Vs Gobblen Gooses.” Sandyman bends down and presses the keys on the Pal-I-See-Ya. “Oh shoot.”
“What’s the matter, dude?” asks Radaghast, from his position of repose.
“I can’t remember my password. I know my username is Sandy_The_White though.”
“Lots of subtlety there I notice. I dislike the Pal-I-See-Ya myself, it never does what I want it to do.” Sourtron comments grimly. Radaghast gets up and peers over Sandyman’s shoulder.
“Have you checked your recovery questions, man?
“No, but I’d set them up ages ago so I can’t remember what I put them as.”
“Cool, cool. You click on the link that says ‘Forgotten password?’” Sourtron rolls his eyes but is actually listening intently. There is silence for a moment and then:
“Lets see. What are the principal exports of Isentart? Easy. That’s Insurance Salesmen, Estate Agents and double glazing.” There is the sound of typing and then: “What is the difference between a birch ent and an oak ent? Um,…”
“The birch ent is female and the oak ent is male, man. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”
“Well, school was a long time ago,” Sandyman mutters. “Oh, no. Look at the last question. What is the origin of the Kassivelian krote?” There is a puzzled silence and Sourtron sighs.
“The Kingdom of Kassivela is a small country to the south of Shmordor. The Kassivelian krote was introduced after the first war, to attempt to combat the huge inflation rate on the previous Kassivelian krona. It has also been used by Dungeon Masters in roleplaying games to represent a coin of such small value that you need four hundred of them to be equal to one Elven credit. However this did have the effect of making their country vastly acceptable to foreign investors. For more recently created currencies, see also the Halfling ha’penny.” He notices the stunned looks of Radaghast and Sandyman and frowns. “I did a course on economics, if you remember.”
“No, it was just… how do you manage to speak in hyperlinks?” Sandyman smiles. “Hey, that whole explanation fits in the box too. Thanks Sourtron.”
“I’m betting he read it off of the P’nternet, man. That is, like, way cool.” But Sourtron is saved having to say anything in his defence as Sandyman flicks to the right channel and says:
“Hey, it’s started. Go Uruks Disunited!”


And so the fellowship, now burdened with a halfling that sees rulebreaking wherever he steps, travels to the Mines of Mobia. Gander wanted to lead the way, but Gimlet says that it wouldn't be the done thing for Gander to enter the family mines first. It also means they travel at a nice, sedate pace.

After a week of travelling, the fellowship arrives at a random piece of stone wall in the mountains.
“Er, Gimlet? This is a random piece of stone wall.” Says Gander, displaying his ability for pointing out the obvious. The others also wonder why Gimlet has stopped here, apart from the fact that it has a nice lake next to it and would be a good spot for lunch. “This is the entrance to the Mines. I just have to speak the password and it'll let us in. Mellon!” The doors stay shut. “Oh, yeah.” Gimlet looks embarrassed “They changed the password. But it's alright. They wrote a riddle on the door in invisible runes! We just have to work it out. It goes:”
A barren waste yet full of life,
A tasty treat with lots of ice,
what am I?
Badomir looks like he's going to strangle Gimlet. “Invisible runes? How can you have invisible runes? It’s a physical impossibility.” Gimlet appears not to have heard. Amagone turns to Gander,
“This sounds like your glass of sherry, Gander. You being a wizard, and educated, should be able to work this out in a flash.” His statement finishes as more of an accusation. Gander coughs nervously.
“Intelligence is more than mere remembering of facts, dear boy. It also involves being able to blast things with magical powers, which is why I became a wizard.”
“Hmm” thinks Amagone, comparing Gander to a Black Mage. “I think I’ll turn my cliché detector on, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ve got it!” says Legolamb. As she was the only one working out the answer instead of bickering, she says “Desert!”

The door creaks open ominously and the first thing the party sees is a man standing inside. He looks suspiciously like the Bard they saw earlier, the feathered hat be a dead giveaway. He mutters something under his breath, while holding an acoustic guitar:
“A one, a two, a one two three four!”
As the ominous music begins, the lake explodes.

Chapter 4: The Madness at Mobia
(Or Even Heroes can’t be heroes all the time, right?)

“How on Not-Quite-Middle-Earth-But-Still-Pretty-Close did he manage to get here before us?” Gimlet gasps.
“Sorry to drive it home dwarf, but you walk pretty slowly.” Badomir replies nonchalantly. “That was pretty good, eh guys? Guys?” Badomir turns round in time to see a huge tentacled horror emerge from the lake and roar loudly. “Ah. Not good.”
“Well, Gander,” starts Amagone, taking charge, “As you’re the heavy artillery in the party, I suggest you take extreme action.”
“There is such a thing as casting time, you know.” Gander replies.
“Fine, we can buy you some time by throwing the non-essential halflings at it. And Badomir can foolishly charge, er, I mean courageously confront the beast to attract attention.”
"No!" scream the halflings "We don't want to be used as one shot ammunition!"
"Get back ‘ere, it's for the good of the party!" puffs Gimlet, as he runs around trying to catch one of them.
"Stand back, Wizard, he shall sample my blade.” Badomir faces off with the tentacled creature.  “Don't try to talk me out of it. But if you want to use any of your magic attacks to instantly kill the creature, I suppose I’ll have to put up with it. Gander?" Badomir turns round. "Gander?" The grey wizard is running very quickly into the mines "Aww, nuts." 
Amagone shakes his head “Legolamb?” But the elf has already sprung into action,
“Get out of the way!" screams Legolamb as she runs to the back of the party next to where the Bard is standing, before taking off her bow and notching an arrow onto it. “By the way” she turns to the bard “you have a strange way of counting in a minor key, that was more like a jazz or rock count and you're slightly sharp at the moment” she waits a moment “a bit flat...there, that's it.” Bleeg also hums along to the tune, much to the Bards consternation.
Unfortunately for the Bard, the creature doesn’t like his music. It lashes out with a tentacle and entwines it around his waist. And with all those instruments strapped to his back, his evasion is almost non-existent.
“Help me!” The Bard shouts, as he is tossed from tentacle to tentacle like a puppet. “I’ll be eaten like a packet of minstrels!” The remaining members of the fellowship turn to look at him.
“Looks like he got bard from entering the mines.” Smiles Badomir, sheathing his sword and running after Gander.
“I didn’t think he was that bad” comments Legolamb, hurrying into the darkness. The fluff on her shoulder starts crying. “And Bleeg wants to go back and save him.”
“No time!” rumbles Gimlet, picking up halflings and throwing them through the doorway. Amagone wonders, just for a second, that of all the team mates he could have been paired up with, why he got the most uncooperative ones. Then he runs in as well, mainly because he notices the rest of the tentacles snaking towards him. As he runs in, the creature grabs hold of the stonework above the gate and inserts it’s tentacles into the gaps. They crack, and the archway collapses in, shutting off any means of retreat. It also plunges the fellowship into total darkness.

“Ah cannae see a thing,” thunders Gimlet. “It’s pitch black in ‘ere.”
“Don’t worry!” says Gander “I can solve that.” His staff starts to glow and then a blinding flash of light emanates from it.
“We wanted a Light spell, not a Flare spell!” snaps Legolamb.
Gander shrugs. “Light, Flare, what’s the difference?” The rest of the party get up slowly, clutching their eyes. They look around at the stone hall in front of them, the place illuminated by a faint glow coming from the ruined doorway.
“And they ca’l it a mine. A mine!” exclaims Gimlet happily
“This is no mine,” Badomir shakes his head “This is a tomb.”
“No, it’s not! ‘Tis a mine, you Pongorian twit!” Gimlet glares at Badomir. Unfortunately for Gimlet, the hall does look indeed like a tomb. There are bodies everywhere, some dwarves, some gobblens.
“Amagone? What are you doing?” Legolamb asks suspiciously. He gets up hastily from one of the bodies.
“I was just checking the poor dwarfs pulse. He could still have been alive.”
“Amagone, the poor dwarf doesn’t have a head.” Gander kindly informs him. Amagone makes a non-committal statement slipping the coins he found into his pocket.

Once Gander works out the difference between a light and a flare spell, the fellowship proceeds down the passage. It is a terrible sight. They pass many dead dwarves and gimlet identifies many of them with tears in his eyes.

As they walk down the myriad tunnels, Frumble turns to Gander and asks:
“Gander?”
“Yes Frumble?”
“I keep hearing a movement when we stop. It’s almost as if something is following us. Is it just me or can you hear it too? What do you think?” Gander looks thoughtful and listens intently.
“You’re just paranoid. It’s probably just the tremors in the earth caused by a nameless terror. Don’t worry about it.” They walk in silence for a bit and then Frumble asks again.
“Gander?”
“Yes, Frumble?”
“How come you know where you’re going?”
Gander looks around surreptitiously and whispers in the halflings ear. “I’m just guessing. This way everybody!” They continue on, Gander continuing to guess the route until:
“Ah recognise this bit! Come on noo!” Gimlet runs past Gander towards a room ahead of them. It looks foreboding, and has a shaft of light coming down from a mysterious point in the ceiling. Gander looks amazed,
“I went the right direction? I must be getting better at this.”
“Or it could just be luck.” Adds Amagone. Gander nods.
“Also true.” From ahead there is a cry of ‘No!’ and some very sad music starts being played.
“Oh no. It can’t be.” Moans Badomir.
“Ah cannae believe it!” shouts Gimlet.
“The Bard’s still alive.” Badomir sighs, and walks with Amagone towards Gimlet, Gander following behind. Legolamb, her Fluff and the halflings run into the room. In the centre of the room is a large stone sarcophagus, which Gimlet is kneeling in front of. In the corner of the room is the Bard, who is playing a dreary tune on a violin. Bleeg is bouncing up and down in front of him excitedly.
“No! You cannae be dead! Ah wanted to borrow yur copy of ‘Who Wants To Be A Trillionaire!” Gimlet moans. Gander wanders over and pats Gimlet vaguely on the back. Reading the inscription on the sarcophagus he says:
“Here lies Basil, Lady of Mobia. I’m really sorry Gimlet.” The thought goes through the rest of the party  that they probably wouldn’t be sleeping on feather beds and eating posh meals while they were here. Legolamb turns to the Bard,
“You’re still slightly sharp by the way” He nods and changes the tune. “That’s better.”
Amagone and Badomir also turn to look at the Bard. Badomir sighs despondently and Amagone swears,
“Bug**r! He survived – I mean, how did you get here?”
The Bard looks up from his violin and explains. “The kraken was looking for a Captain Zack Sparra because he wanted to give him his hat back. I said I’d tell this captain that the kraken was looking for him. Then I came in the side door. Duh. Pretty simple really.” Everyone stares at him and he shifts uneasily. “Well, it was.”
“Hey, people of assorted races! I found Basil’s diary.” Exclaims Gander “I believe we should read it to find out how he died.” And under his breath he mutters, “And also so we know what to run away from.”
“Only if Gimlet is okay with it.” Amagone says, looking at the tearful dwarf.

[Updated when i remember! Or when i have time   )