BS: Lord of the Strings

Subject: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 05:17 PM

Capo entered the cozy den where firelight played on the faces of the several Traddits who sat, various instruments in their hands, in a half-circle around the hearth. "Capo! We though you had lost yourself in the Forest of BarKord!" Capo grinned and said "stop your fretting, Slam Bangbee. I merely stopped to admire a beautiful sunset over Tuningpeg Peak." Slam laughed and replied "more likely you stopped to chat up Cindy Fiddleplucker." Capo playfully scuffed Slam's cap down over his eyes, then turned and unsapped his bouzouki case. Removing the instrument, he seated himself on a three-legged stool, took a pull on a crockery jug that Noodle handed him, and pronounced "I have written a song."

"Let's hear it!" shouted Gimlet, and Capo said "in G. Of course." He played a short intro and sang

Oh the ladies of the Shire
Are a fair and friendly lot
singing sweetly in the choir
or stirring chicken in a pot
But there's one thing I require
if I may be so smug
'tis there company by the fire
swapping kisses on the rug

The laughter that came from the group of Traddits was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the appearance of the wizard Zimmerdalf, who stomped his feet, removed the hood of his cloak, and said "Christ, Capo. Don't quit yer day job." The assembly of Traddits clambered to their feet. "Welcome Zimmerdalf!" shouted Capo. "Don't go gettin yer undies in a twist, shortie. I've got maybe 5 minutes, then I have to split for a gig in Dunderdale." Zimmerdalf scratched his pencil-thin moustache and gazed abstractedly at the fire for several seconds until jarred from his reverie by Slam, who said "what errand brings you to the Shire and my Traddit Hole, Zimmerdalf?" The wizard looked at Slam and said "do you have any liverwurst? Can you make me a sandwich?"

As Slam departed for the kitchen, the wizard sat down and produced a leather pouch from his robe, and from the pouch he brought a parchment scroll. "This," he said, "is an ancient document of the Folkies." As he spoke, the parchment took on a sullen orange glow, as if it were aflame. Slowly, he unrolled it and began to read

" One string to wake them, and one to forsake them. One string to call them, one string to appall them. One string..."

He was interrupted by Slam yelling from the kitchen "you want mustard!?" to which Zimmerdalf answered "mayonnaise and horseradish!" Then he continued

"One string to tease them, one string to please them..."Gimlet began to giggle, but a harsh look from Zimmerdalf silenced him. "One string to hold them, one string to scold them. One string to show them, one string to know them. One string to find them. One string to bind them all."

Zimmerdalf re-rolled the scroll, and stared at Capo. "Eleven of the Twelve Power Strings are in the hands of Lord PopWhore," said the wizard, and a cold draft seemed to filter through the room with the sound of his name. "All but the twelfth, the binding string. That string was brought from the wasted lands of Markdown, beyond the Mountains of Commerce, many years ago. It was possessed by Leadbelly the Bold, and later by McGuinn of the Spectacles, before it was taken from him when he fell under the sway of Lord PopWhore. And now, another has it." The Traddits followed Zimmerdalf's eyes to a single glowing golden string on Capo's bouzouki which suddenly, inexplicably rang with a note of clearest E. In a quick motion, Zimmerdalf leaned forward and muted the string, gazing around him in the growing murk of the room. "Silence!" whispered Zimmerdalf. "Lord PopWhore's ears are far-ranging, and even now are focussed on the Shire!"

He slowly raised his hand away, and said "Capo. The String is yours, and you alone can return it to Markdown, where it must be cast into the fires of Martin the Maker. Without it, PopWhore can never rule FiddleEarth!" He paused, taking a huge bite of his liverwurst sandwich. "Umm. Good," he mumbled. Speaking though a wad of sandwich, Zimmerdalf said "you must travel to Rockindale. There, at Hardrog's Cafe, you will meet the one who will lead you to Markdown." The wizard stood, dusting some rye bread crumbs off of his robe, and said "I'd go with you, but I've got this DunderDale gig. "I'll try to catch up later. You guys wouldn't have a road beer?" Then, clutching a frosty can of brew, he was gone.

The Traddits slowly sank back onto their stools, each one staring at Capo, who looked at the String of Power, looked at the door through which Zimmerdalf had made his exit, and said "I am SO not looking forward to this!"

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: katlaughing
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 06:30 PM

(You are the fecking Master, LeeJ!)

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Don Firth
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 07:11 PM

Marvelous!

Like the cat who ate a quantity of cheese and sat breathing down the mouse-hole, I await the next chapter with baited breath!

Don Firth

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: frogprince
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 07:57 PM

Insanity can be so damn much fun...

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Amos
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 08:48 PM

ROFLMA, LEJ!! Keep 'em rolling.



A

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: GUEST,leeneia
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 09:07 PM

Lovely. I'm so glad to know that I inhabit FiddleEarth.

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 10:45 PM

The road from Bingle Derry to Hammeron follows the course of the River Whirlijig through miles of rolling hill country. Capo and Slam carried their packs and instrument cases, while the young Traddits, Noodle and Gimlet, frolicked and gamboled in the vanguard. "What's got ye down, Master Capo?" asked Slam Bangbee as he took a bite of a ripe apple, and offered Capo another. "I dunno Slam. It could be the responsibility of carrying the string, and the long hard journey before us...or it could be that infernal frolicking those two are doing. Do they mean to keep it up all the way to Markdown?" A quick word from Slam served to bridle the spirits of the two young Traddits, and Capo continued. "And it isn't just the duty of returning it. I...well, I began to play ever so much better when I put that string on the bouzouki. It's like old Dildo Diggins said, 'there be magic in it, laddy bucko'."

Capo's ruminations were suddenly disturbed by the sight of a distant figure ahead on the road. All of the Traddits fell silent as they drew nearer the strange gnome-like creature who seemed to be playing a mandolin and prancing up a duststorm on the road. This creature appeared utterly unaware of their approach, and as they came nearer, they began to make out the words of a song he was singing

I got swingin doors, a juke box, and a bar stool
my new home has a flashing neon sign
You can stop and see me anytime you want to
'Cause I'm always here at home 'til closin time.

Gimlet and Doodle looked at Slam in alarm, but Slam said "never you worry little ones. He's a Stomper from the land south of the shire known as Digasee. They're fierce fighters and consumers of their native drink, Hooskee, but sincere to a fault." The Stomper either brought his song to a natural denouement, or overheard Slam speaking, because he suddenly ceased, and turned to stare at them. "Y'all the Traddits that Zimmerdalf done told me to wait fer?" The Traddits were taken aback by this, and the Stomper said "you the guy with the String o' Power? You Capo?" They all stood silent, but then the Stomper's face widened into a grin that displayed 4 1/2 teeth, he stuck his hand out, and said "hell, I'm here to help y'all! Name's Acuff Merlie!" He strode forward and shook each of the Traddits' hands with such vigor that various pots, pans, and camping items fell into the road with a clatter.

Abruptly, Acuff Merlie brought his finger to his lips and motioned for silence. The wind sighed through the Plinker Pines, and Slam's stomach growled, but no other sound was detectable..and then, there it was; a low rumble accompanied by a darkening dust cloud that moved toward them. "Quick!" said Acuff, "pick up them utensils and foller me!" They all scrambled, found hiding places among the pine trunks, and as they watched, a dark shape hove into view, or more precisely, a black Mercedes. It slid to a stop, and deep thuds were heard coming from it, accompanied by wails, screeches, wheezes, and rhythmic squeaking, and then the unmistakeable vocal calisthenics of a Deadly Diva. "Sssssh" whispered Acuff. "It senses fear and a moderately disturbing level of talent." The car seemed to pivot on its tires, almost as if seeking a scent. For a second all was silent, and then a high crystalline sound began to mount on the air. "Mute the string!" whispered Acuff. Slam silenced it, the Mercedes rolled slowly forward, hesitated, and then was gone in a cloud of dust.

"What was it?" said Capo. "Dark Rider" responded Acuff. "That was a close un. We better skedaddle." And so the fellowship, now stronger by one, made its cautious way toward the Dark Forest of Okeema.

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: katlaughing
Date: 10 Oct 07 - 11:16 PM

Dildo Diggins??!

Spitting all over my keyboard with that one! I shall never look at my "toy" the same way ever again!

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Rowan
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 12:45 AM

Can't wait for the Cate Blanchett bit!

Cheers, Rowan

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: GUEST,LTS pretending to work
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 02:37 AM

It's just as well it's early and no-one else is in... I haven't had such a reason to laugh at work for ages!

Although I thought it was a bit cruel of you to put Leadfingers in without asking his permission!

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 12:28 PM

Hey, this story is open to anyone crazy enough to participate. For crying out loud, don't make me write the whole damn thing myself! You've all read the books...go for it!

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Rowan
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 06:35 PM

G'day Lonesome EJ,
It's time to for us all, you included, to acknowledge your genius; just get on with it and stop keeping us in suspense.

Cheers, Rowan

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Don Firth
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 06:47 PM

Cate Blanchett. I LOVE Cate Blanchett!!

Especially with her li'l "Mr. Spock" ears!

Don Firth

(Galadriel, the Elf Queen can spirit me off to Lothlorian and have her way with me any time she wants. . . .)

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 09:30 PM

The Shire is speckled with groves of trees nestled among the farms and ponds, but none of the Traddits had seen anything like the vast, dense forest that forms its eastern border. The main course of the road turned northward at the brink of the wilderness, and a narrow path, wide enough perhaps for a small donkey and cart, dropped into Okeema. Just here, a small wooden structure had been built. Acuff explained that it was a roadside shrine to the Patron Saint of the Stompers, St Hank, and he insisted on making an offering of Redman chewing tobacco and engaging in the standard prayer to the Saint, which sounded to the Traddits like a strange blend of yodeling and weeping. The travelers shared a small loaf of bread and a wedge of flummox cheese, and started into the great wood.

The close growth of the great trees filtered and blocked the sunlight until the group were holding their hands in front of them to keep from colliding with the immense trunks that lined the path, if path they still trod. They proceeded in this way until the gloom was at last broken by a brightly lit clearing. On reaching this, they realized that they must have lost the trail some ways back, but as the others rested, Slam found a bit of cloth caught on a thorn bush, and what appeared to be a footpath. "Perhaps we should make camp here," said Capo as he looked down the course of the thin trail. It was then that Slam pause and said "I hear music!" And as they listened, the bright notes of a banjo seemed to float among the dark trees like so many fireflies.

At a brisk pace, they followed the sound of the banjo, until before them they saw another clearing, in the center of which stood a massive oak tree trunk which sprouted a thin halo of green-leafed branches. In this trunk was mounted a great arched door of rugged slats bound with rusted iron hardware. And over the door was hung a signboard, and as they read the words, Doodle spoke them aloud...

"Pete Seegadil
His Home "

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Amos
Date: 11 Oct 07 - 09:50 PM

(He probably purchased it from Woody Brushtree....and had a visit from Bobadill Ian, the mad longhaired poet from the far side of the road...)

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lin in Kansas
Date: 12 Oct 07 - 10:39 PM

LEJ: I am open-mouthed with awe! More, more!

Lin

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 16 Oct 07 - 11:42 PM

The Fellowship of the String sat in the hollow deep within the great oak, their stomachs distended from the large bowls of stew and loaves of crusty bread they had been served by Old Pete Seegadil. The Traddits found cozy places among the great snaking roots of the tree, which formed seats, couches, and cots padded with spongy moss. As they relaxed, Acuff Merlie revealed a gift hitherto hidden, but now revealed in the wake of the stew...he had the gift of musical farting. As Pete played tinkling tunes on his 5 string banjo, Acuff would punctuate the melody with sonorous bass tones, whistling flute notes, and even french horn blasts which caused Doodle and Gimlet to laugh hysterically and grab their sides, and had old Pete himself grinning and chuckling.

After one particularly rollicking round of banjo-flatulence, the laughter gradually abated, and the travelers were astounded to hear music echoing in the tree-hollow, music that seemed to come from the living tree itself. When Slam asked, Pete replied "ah, you're hearing the voice of old Woody. He loves to sing along when the mood strikes 'im. Surely you've all heard of 'roots music'? Well, Woody's roots reach into the very heart of FiddleEarth, and tap the sounds and souls of all of those who came before us. Sometimes the sounds he makes are in a language even I can't understand, because it comes from the time before even I was born, and that is a very long time."
They listened, and sure enough, a soft voice was heard rising from beneath them that seemed to sing of the beginning of all things, although they could not say that the voices they heard sang in any form that could be described as "words".
Old Pete stood up slowly, his brittle and lanky old body unfolding a shadow from the cookfire that sprang up the hollow trunk of the tree. "And in Woody's trunk, I can hear the voices I heard as a boy, when this world was yet young. They are voices of men I saw and heard, the Minstrels who told of the days when the world was ruled by magic, the Hobokyms who sang of the great, friendly, smoking beast who carried them in his belly to a promised land. Men who used frail wooden instruments to cleave the legs from tyrants. Men who coaxed powerful visions from drawn bows. The trunk of this old tree is thick and strong with the power of those singers and players. Their bodies have turned to dust, but their voices live on here."

"But the branches of this tree. They are so few and so frail," said Capo.
"Yes, " said Pete Seegadil. "But they are sturdy, and have survived the winds of time. And among the leaves that grow on them are the songs sung by us together."
"What about Lord PopWhore? What is his purpose?" said Slam.
"I don't know about such things," said the old man. "But the music he nurtures doesn't come from the heart of this land. Or even from his heart. It is soulless. And, in fact, it feeds on the souls of those who value it. You must be very careful in this quest you have undertaken. I will give this to you..." and here he opened an old wooden box and took from it a handful of dark powder. This powder he let pour from his fist into a bottle, which he sealed. He handed this to Capo and said " this flour is ground from the bark of this tree. When you need Woody's strength, toss a pinch of this into the air."

In the morning, Pete Seegadil was nowhere to be seen as the travelers rose and packed their things. But as they found the footpath and followed it easterly out of the clearing, a soft strain of banjo music, nearly indistinguishable from the singing of a small stream that flowed by, and the soft whisper of the breeze that sighed through the pinetops, seemed to bid them farewell and good luck.

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Rowan
Date: 17 Oct 07 - 12:43 AM

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Cheers, Rowan

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Amos
Date: 17 Oct 07 - 12:51 AM

(Sigh)...:D

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Morticia
Date: 17 Oct 07 - 03:56 AM

Pure Brilliance......you have to write it all yourself, Leej, none of us could match you and most wouldn't even try.

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Rowan
Date: 18 Oct 07 - 07:08 PM

I woke up this morning having dreamed that Gimli's ancestors deep in the Mines had built huge organs that could move the roots of mountains, but after some problems had been limited to building harmoniums and now, all they could muster were accordions and the like, leaving Gimli a demon on the melodeon. Frodo in the tombs had found an ancient Hohner harmonica in Eb, and Legolas played uilleann pipes, meaning the only way he could get mobility in battle was to get in a wheelchair and push him around.

And then there was the problem of getting past Shelob in the WarSoner BroyCorp Lair.

You've got to get on with it EJ, so the purity of your story remains unsullied by such thoughts.

Cheers, Rowan

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 19 Oct 07 - 01:03 AM

Rowan, you are making me laugh out loud.

I would love to move this story along faster, but I've been extremely busy in the real world. Make no mistake, I'd rather be wandering along with the String Team, and will resume the narrative when the alligators are no longer snapping at my behind.

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 21 Oct 07 - 01:24 AM

In the corner booth of Hardrog's Cafe, Strummer sipped his Dragon Juice and watched a table-full of rowdy Bangers who threatened to disrupt the young Folkie performing on the small stage. Strummer sat lazily in the chair, one booted leg up on the table, and his mug cradled in his hands. His appearance was unique to say the least, but the most outlandish getups were standard fare in Rockindale. Strummer sported a shock of purple hair that covered most of his eyes and hung in a loose pony tail down his back, but he wore a grizzled beard that betrayed him as a man in his forties. He had also worn a long cloak or cape of tattered black cloth, but this he had removed and slung across the chair next him. Around his neck he wore a gold talisman which caught the firelight now and then, and had attracted the attention of a thief at the bar. This man secretly watched Strummer, waiting for the large quantity of Dragon Juice he had ingested to take effect.

But Strummer seemed to grow not more groggy, but more alert, his eyes darting occasionally to the door, as if expecting someone. The small pile of gold coins on his table invited the prompt service of an attractive barmaid, who was quick to replace an empty cup whenever he had finished.

"You're not from Rockindale, are you?" she said, smiling and swaying slightly.
"No," he said, "from the East, near the Treble Cliffs."
"What's your name?" she asked, and he said "Belen. But most call me Strummer."
"That yours?" she asked, pointing to a battered guitar case on the oaken floor. To his nod, she asked "Can I see?" He smiled, and brought the case up to the table top. Unsnapping the lid, she gasped to see what lay within. The wood of the guitar's body was blood red, lustrous, inlaid with an ebony band around the sound hole and ebony rays of light that seemed to emit from this circle. The fretboard was inlaid with mother of pearl that shown like rainbows in water.

A sudden burst of laughter and whistle from the Bangers drew Strummer's eyes, and the poor girl on stage was singing with quivering voice

Oh my Love is like the red, red rose
His lips as soft as petals feel
the cold rain fallen on his clothes
as diamonds do my eyes reveal

The barmaid was stunned to see Strummer snatch the guitar from its case, and leap up on to the stage next to the girl. He began to play a series of arpeggios that gave strength and beauty to the song. At the last storke of his hand across the strings, he sprung suddenly onto the table, planted the sole of his boot in the forehead of the largest Banger, and pushed him over backward in his chair, standing on his chest as he lay prostrate. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave," he said. He stepped off as the Banger rose and clambered out the door. "The rest of you may stay," he said, "if you promise to give the lady your respectful attention." They were silent as he stepped back onto the stage. He played the intro to a 12 bar shuffle then ,and she followed with a surprisingly soulful rendition of FiddleEarth Blues. As she finished, he kissed her hand, left the stage and went back to his chair.

The barmaid was soon by his side, saying "you play like a Deltan." He smiled and said "that's because my Granddaddy was one. But my Mom was raised a Stomper. And my Dad..." he drank deep of his Dragon Juice and continued "..my Dad I never met. But some say he was a Folkie from UrthShu." She looked at his eyes now, to see if he had the jaded world-weary look of the Folkies, but with the strange light their eyes never lost. "But your a Rogger now," she stated. Again he smiled, snapping the guitar into its case. "Always have been. But the songs of my family, of those that came before? Those are my songs too. It's just that, unlike my Folkie ancestors, I lack DrumFear."

A voice cried out "Hooskee for me, and mead for my l'il buddies! And howsa bout some honkey-tonk! That'd liven up this museum!" Strummer observed a Stomper accompanied by what appeared to be goateed children. Acuff Merlie lifted the Traddits one by one to sit on the bar, and they were happily guzzling mead as Strummer approached and said "are you those sent by Zimmerdalf?"

The fellowship was silent momentarily, until Strummer raised his flagon and intoned "to the return of the string!" At which point the four Traddits grinned, and Acuff Merlie jumped into the air, clicked his heels together, spat on his palm, extended it and said "put her thar pard!"

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Amos
Date: 21 Oct 07 - 10:37 AM

LOL!! DEeeee-lightful!!


A

Subject: RE: BS: Lord of the Strings
From: Rowan
Date: 21 Oct 07 - 06:28 PM

"It's just that, unlike my Folkie ancestors, I lack DrumFear"!!!!!!!
Too much, indeed!!!!!!

From your friendly family lagerphonist, Keep it up!

Cheers, Rowan