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Contest l Fiction l Mixing Characters (Oct 2007)

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Old 10-01-2007, 07:03 AM
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Default Contest l Fiction l Mixing Characters (Oct 2007)

This month's fiction contest will stretch your creative muscles so tautly, you may need to get a scalp massage afterward to work out the kinks. Ready for this? We would like you to take three famous people/fictional characters and write a story in which they interact with one another. The setting, story, and resolution are completely up to you, but here's the catch: The characters you are to use have been pre-selected by the staff (well, one of the staff but depending on how evil you may think this is, I will keep that person anonymous). They are Elvis Presley, Elizabeth Bennett (of Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice) and Gandalf (of Tolkien's Hobbit and Lord of the Rings). An unlikely grouping of folks, you say? That's why we are very curious as to how you will make the combination work. Word limit is 1500 max. Due date is 11:59 p.m. U.S. Pacific Time on October 26th. For additional guidance on contest entry and how we judge, please go here.

Good luck!

"A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle."
Old 10-05-2007, 02:51 PM
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Elvish Parsley (1,011 words) an example of forced writing, haha. I wish you all the best of luck!

Elvish Parsley

Gandalf the White and his wife Elizabeth were a seemingly happy couple. They were quite content living out their lives, well…Elizabeth’s at least, in their quaint-hillside home. Yet something was missing.

Elizabeth was a stay at home wife, keeping herself busy around the house cleaning and doing other things of the like. Whereas Gandalf was always out and about taking care of “urgent business” with the majority of the town's midget population.

The Whites never dabbled in their village’s local festivities, they viewed them as meaningless and somewhat inappropriate. That is until, while walking through the local thrift store for robes, Gandalf came across a flyer that read:

Annual Dance Competition!
Saturday the 27th!
Admission – FREE!
Prize – An Invisibility Ring(found in an envelope hidden by a midget!)

After reading the flyer, Gandalf, priorities having changed, hurried home to his wife.

“Eliza, dear, there is a pressing issue at hand.”

“Gandalf, you say that every time you come home.”

“I mean it this time, the fate of Middle-Earth is at stake!”

“You say that each time as well. And it’s the Mid-West for gosh sakes, get it right. This isn’t about that silly ring of yours, is it?” asked Elizabeth with skepticism on her face.

“Well, yes. There’s a competition in village, and…” Elizabeth cut him short.

“We’re not entering any competition; we have everything we need, right here.”

“It’s imperative that I learn to dance!” exclaimed Gandalf.

“It’s imperative that you shut your…dance you say? Well why didn’t you say so?! I know just the man who can teach even an old oaf like you to dance!” exclaimed Elizabeth with utter enjoyment.

“Then ride to his location! Shadowfax, show Eliza the meaning of haste!”

“That’s quite alright, dear, I’ll take the car.”

And so Elizabeth set out to find The One Dance Instructor while Gandalf stayed home, stretching, attempting to limber up before his coming dance lessons.

Once Gandalf was done stretching the best he could (which wasn’t very well) he sat next to the fire and gazed into its depths whilst smoking his pipe, pondering what he was to learn, and how to dispose of the ring once he won it.

Late that evening, just as the sun dipped down below the tree line, Elizabeth returned home. A man of about six-foot stepped out from the passenger side of the car, wearing large sunglasses, and a white leather suit adorned in jewels and sequences.

Elizabeth took the man by the hand and escorted him to the front door, Gandalf, who had heard the car door slam, hurried to the foyer to greet his instructor. Elizabeth and her acquaintance entered, Gandalf looked at the man slightly bewildered and taken aback, he then shouted, “You – Shall – Not – Pass!” The handsome man flipped his soft dark hair out of his face and slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose, he then seemed to size-up Gandalf by running his eyes up and down him.

Elizabeth noticed the awkward silence and said, “Honey, this is your dance instructor, Elvis Presley!”

“He has Elvish Parsley? What fortune whilst that bring upon me, I need to learn to dance…not cure an illness!”

“No dear, not Elvish Parsley…Elvis Presley!”

“Oh…well then, Nice to meet you, Elvis,” said Gandalf extending his hand.

“I Washed My Hands in Muddy Water,” he replied. “A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action Please.”

“Well, if you insist, let us begin our lesson,” said Gandalf. “In here, our living room was big enough to hold a Dwarven birthday party, should be large enough for dancing.”

“Stand by Me, Big Boss Man,” said Elvis pointing to the floor in front of him. “Don't Think Twice, It's All Right.”

“Err, alright,” replied Gandalf as he hesitated to move forward.

“Go ahead honey, place your hands on his hips,” said Elizabeth with a chuckle.

As Gandalf did so, he inquired to where Elvis was from, to ease the awkward tension of the situation. “So, err, Elvis…Where do you reside?”

“In the Ghetto, At the Heartbreak Hotel,” he replied. “I’m Nothing but a Hound Dog.”

“So it would seem. Anyways, what dance am I to learn for the competition?”

“The Tennessee Waltz,” replied Elvis.

The two began to waltz through the living room, surprisingly enough, Gandalf was quite good. He knew he was good, too. But he also knew that this wouldn’t win over the judges, not entirely, and he needed to win the competition. So he asked Elvis, “This dance is all well and good, but I’m going to need a move to really awe the Judges.”

“Uh-huh, Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin On.”

“Well what should I do after I end the Waltz?”

“You Can Do Anything, But Lay Off My Blue Suede Shoes.”

“Right…your shoes. Well thank you, Elvis, it was an honor to learn from you.”

“Baby, I Don’t Care,” replied Elvis smugly.

“Don’t Be Cruel!” exclaimed Elizabeth as she went to escort him out.

“Get Back, Proud Mary!”

“My name is Elizabeth!”

“Mean Woman Blues…” said Elvis under his breath. He then pointed to Gandalf and said, “Fools Fall in Love!” and ran out the door.

“What on earth was that all about?” asked Gandalf.

“Nothing Honey, just an old romance. Rags to Riches, that man there…said he’d Be Home for Christmas…never came back, broke my heart I dare say.”

“Well he’s gone now. And look on the bright side of things, I know how to dance! I can win that competition now!”

“That’s right! You’d better get your rest, Gandalf, you are 7,000 years old after all.”

And so they headed to bed. The next day Gandalf and Elizabeth went into town and danced up a storm. Sadly…they took 2nd place; losing to someone they couldn’t see through the crowd, but kept yelling “My Precious, My Precious!”

The White’s returned to their home on the hillside and went about their normal business. Elizabeth kept on tidying up while Gandalf went convoluting about looking for the prize he came so close to winning. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Last edited by Dana_Johnson; 10-24-2007 at 07:07 PM..
Old 10-09-2007, 12:57 PM
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Default Gandalf's True Love

737 words - Enjoy! I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Gandalf's True Love

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a great fortune must be in want of a wife. Gandalf the Grey was such a man. Admittedly, he wasn’t very young – being several hundred years old, and he didn’t posses a great fortune so much as a wealth of amusing magic. And of course, the thought of acquiring a wife was one that had never graced his erstwhile thoughts. But that was before he laid eyes on Elizabeth Bennett.

He was standing in a dusty street, smoking his pipe, and watching the rising smoke forming into figures, which promptly insulted each other and began to brawl. He was chuckling over their antics when he saw her. Her! And then he knew. Inescapably. Irresistibly. Irr – ahem. He knew. He knew destiny when he saw it. And oh, when he took in her lovely hair, her scornful face as she barely glanced at him, he knew he could never be the same. He must have her.

And then, the unthinkable happened. A man dressed in an absurd white jumpsuit, which glittered ominously as he moved, walked right up to her and kissed her hand! Gandalf was enraged! He lifted his staff to smite the insolent fool, but stopped – such a deed was sure to alienate himself from the lady. "That man," he muttered to himself, glaring mercilessly at the offending fellow, "is nothing but a hound dog!"

But now – oh, now! The knave had taken her arm, was leading her up the street! And Elizabeth! She was letting him, by gad. Well, Gandalf wouldn’t have let Sauron himself steal his girl – much less some upstart with ridiculous clothing and hair! And so Gandalf crossed his eyes and pointed his staff. "Mellon!" he shouted. Several large watermelons fell from the sky and hit the man in the head. He fell to the ground in a heap. Gandalf grinned and ran to Elizabeth. She was staring at her crumpled escort in utter perplexity.

"What on earth?"

"Never fear, Gandalf is here!"


"Gandalf the Grey, wizard extraordinaire, at your service, mademoiselle." And he tipped his long, wizard’s hat at her.

"Whatever can be your meaning, sir?"

Before Gandalf could formulate a suitable response, the man as his feet began to stir. He began to sing, his lip curling at one side, "All I ask is please, please love me!"

Elizabeth gave him a scathing glare. "Sir, from the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

The man looked dazed and confused; he pulled himself to his feet and tottered off down the road, muttering strings of songs to himself. Elizabeth watched him go, her chin held high. She shot a glance at Gandalf. "And that goes for you as well, sir!" And she glided away in the opposite direction.

Well. Grandalf stood, dumbfounded, in the middle of the street. That certainly had not gone to plan. How to win over the lady? There must be a way. Gandalf stood, scratching his beard, deep in thought, until he had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by a carriage full of dwarves. Dwarves! That was it!

The next day Elizabeth was walking through town with her four sisters when all five were beset by a swarm of kicking, biting dwarves! The girls fought, but it was to no avail. There were too many of them!

Peering around the corner of a near-by building, Gandalf chuckled. His plan was going exactly to – well, to plan. Striding up to the fighting dwarves, he pointed his magic staff at them and muttered a few impressive sounding words. Spectacular lightening flew from the staff into the midst of the dwarves. They quickly scattered, some massaging injured limbs.

Trying not to grin, Gandalf approached the five disgruntled ladies and helped them to their feet. "My dears, are you all right?"

Elizabeth was looking at him with adoration. "Sir, you have saved our lives! What is your name?"

"Why, Gandalf, my lady!"

"Gandalf, my hero!" And she fainted into his arms.

Three days later Elizabeth and Gandalf were married, with Elvis (with a large bandage wrapped around his head) as their wedding singer. And they all lived happily every after.

Last edited by wildbluefaerie; 10-09-2007 at 03:05 PM..
Old 10-13-2007, 07:23 AM
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Default Microprocessia (1491 words)

“Lizzy. Are you there, Lizzy?”.

“Mr. Presley, I asked you to call me Elizabeth or Miss Bennet. Only my family calls me Lizzy.” Elizabeth stopped her run and jogged in place while she responded.

“Oh, come on now, baby. I can’t do nothing about this heap of burning love. I don’t mean no harm.” Elvis strummed softly on his guitar while he sat on the cooling fan. The curl normally hanging over his forehead fluttered in the hot exhaust. “If I call you Elizabeth would you please try to call me, Elvis? My father was Mr. Presley and he went and got himself sent to prison, made my mama lose the family home to the bank, and done her and me wrong. I don’t want to be called Mr. Presley because I don’t have no respect for my daddy.”

“All right, Mr. …, Elvis. We can be civil to each other but my heart will always be with Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth stopped running in place and leaned up against a ribbon cable with her arms crossed.

“Are you two at it again? I tolerate neither of you being able to properly pronounce my name, but I do not go on and on about it. I fear I grow weary of this but I have little choice when drawn out of Middle-Earth into this land of mortals and confounded contraptions.” Gandalf vented his minor frustration by touching the hard drive with his staff, scrambling the contents of an unsaved short story. He looked up with a mischievous grin.

“I still don’t know what all this talk of Middle-Earth is all about. There’s just the plain old Earth, where I live. I’ve traveled on tours and made movies all over this planet, but it was always on the outside, never in the middle.” Growing too hot in the air from the micro-processor, Elvis jumped up on the IDE expansion slot and began walking from one end to the other – arms out at his side, as if walking on a balancing beam.

“As am I baffled of these places you speak of, like Blue Hawaii and this place you call, England, Elizabeth. Graceland, however sounds like a delightful place, and I am so glad to hear of the way you take care of your mother, Elvis.”

“Thank you, thank you very much, Gandalf. I appreciate that.”

“Think nothing of it, my human friend. Elizabeth, have you made progress with Caroline or Mrs. Hurst?” Gandalf removed his hat, sat on the edge of the power connector, and lit his pipe from a floating flame that appeared when he snapped his fingers.

“Gandalf, you never cease to surprise me with your incredible memory for details or your true and genuine compassion for other people. I’m afraid the trial period for the e-books reader has expired and I cannot continue until our owner is willing to pay for what he has received for free these last ninety days.” Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head with eyes directed at her feet.

Elvis stopped his balancing walk, hopped down onto the motherboard, and knelt on one knee. He placed his head on his forearm and reached out a hand toward her. “Oh pretty lady, I would pay for that e-books thing myself, if I could get to my money. I have a lot of money but the Colonel handles all of that for me and they didn’t put him in here with me. The only thing they let me do here is buy Cadillacs for the players, and a shiny new pink Cadillac isn’t going to help you none.”

“I appreciate your generosity, Elvis. If there is anything I learned at Lambton, it is to have patience and perseverance. Just as I wait for Mr. Darcy to repeat his proposal, and I surreptitiously encourage him to do so, I wait for the owner to read Jane’s wonderful story again. Then, I can continue my journey.” As she was talking, she walked to Elvis. She took his hand and he rose to her feet, losing himself in her dark eyes that reflected the red LED glow of a flickering hard drive access light.

Gandalf stared off into the distance as he spoke quietly, “My good man, my dear, I have a plan that, if it works as I hope, will return Elvis to his beloved Graceland, Elizabeth to Lambton and her beloved Mr. Darcy, and I to my wonderful world of Hobbits, Elves, and wizards such as I.”

Elvis rose to his feet and Elizabeth dropped his hand. They both turned to look intently at Gandalf. “Oh, it’s true my friends. When the owner released the giant eagle, Gwaihir that enabled my escape from the clutches of Saluman atop the Tower of Orthanc, he also enabled my escape from that prison called, Applications Folder. I am no longer limited to these respites when the screen saver is enabled, as are the two of you. I am able to leave the game dylibs and freely explore within the confines of RAM and throughout the spinning platters of the 250 gigabyte drive.”

Elvis opened his eyes wide in surprise, “You don’t say. You mean that you can get out whenever you want? Can you help us do that too? I would give you all the money I have if you could get me back to see my mama in Graceland. The game designers didn’t even include her in this release.”

“Oh yes, pray do tell, gentle wizard. I would be so eternally grateful for release from the confines of electronic pages. My rejection of Mr. Darcy was such a big mistake and I would so like to return to England to rectify it.”

“Keep your money, and limber yourself up for those incredible pelvic gyrations you say you use in your stage performances, for you will use them again soon. Elizabeth, fret no more – you shall have your chance with Mr. Darcy again.” Gandalf’s eyes sparkled with a joy matching his smile.

Elvis and Elizabeth moved still closer to Gandalf as he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “Do you feel that surge of power once in a while? That feeling that you are being sucked toward a vortex”. The other two nodded.

“That, my friends is a temporary parting of the nearly impenetrable curtain that separates this internal world with that world of which I can only read in the ancient text of binary data. I have seen the device that causes this disruption of the force keeping us here with my own eyes through the crystal orb of the webcam. The owner keeps this device on a golden ring along with what I suspect are keys – to what, I can only imagine. When he inserts that device into the portal, the tunnel of USB is opened for but a brief few minutes. That is the surge you feel – it is the curtain being drawn aside. With the incantation I will teach you, you can leave the confines of your copy protection and meet me at the gates of that open portal. From there we will escape together.”

Gandalf worked with them to commit the incantation to memory until the move of the mouse brought the screen saver to an end and they were sent at the speed of light back into their sectors. They only remained in confinement for a few minutes before the owner plugged his iPod in to synchronize the new CD he just ripped to the hard drive. They spoke their spells and quickly made their way down the information highway to the open portal.

Giddy with excitement, they didn’t notice Gandalf’s look of concern as he glanced back and saw the goblins scrambling along the pathway from which they had just come. Gandalf opened the door and led them into the enormous chamber. “This way – quickly!” he urged in alarm.

Elvis looked back in astonishment and raised his cape to the side of his head to cover his eyes from a blinding flash of light and a scorching blast of heat. Gandalf shouted, “Run! Run now!”

Elizabeth let out a started cry, but quickly lifted her floor length dress to her knees and ran. Elvis was close behind. Gandalf stood at the USB bridge and raised his staff above his head with both hands. He glanced behind him and saw that Elvis and Elizabeth stopped and stared in shock and awe. Gandalf yelled at them, “Run, you fools!”

He turned back to the Balrog and shouted, “You shall not be passive”. The USB bridge collapsed when the owner pulled the plug out of the port. Gandalf ran to meet Elvis and Elizabeth at the bright opening at the edge of the great chamber. There they waited until another USB bridge was formed. They stepped out of the land of rotten apples and through the window into the vista of a world in which they belonged.
Old 10-24-2007, 09:46 AM
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Default Bookworm (850 words)

{(850 words) ok this one was forsed out of me, hope you all like, best of luck to all}


Elizabeth walks to her bed. The day was long and she was tired. Slipping under her sheets she opens the whiskey under her bed some “nighttime” sleep antidote she laid quietly until she dosed off, Elizabeth sat upright in bed. Waking from a nightmare of that man…

“Are you all right?”

Her mind was being monitored again,

“Would you like some food? Or care for some calming tea?”

“I will never tell!” Elizabeth blurted

“Torture me as much as you want bookworm, I will never give in” Elizabeth shirked at the top of her lungs.

“So be it child.”

It has been many months, and every day, more characters are trapped. The world as we know it is gone and replaced by a prison of sorts in the deepest of a unknown island somewhere, with a geeky lunatic mind speaker and one that brings book characters to life like puppets, knowing the truth of life hidden in one or another.

Elizabeth thrown back in the cell and another taken out. Elvis just left the cell. Twenty are still here. Elvis was the first, a first attempt to his powers, years ago, form the Elvis Presley biography. Then came Dumbledore, you should see the bookworms face when Dumbledore just speaks in riddles, twisting this way and that. Next, came Gandalf form lord of the rings series, a failed project that says four words” you shall not pass!” I personally feel sorry for him. Maybe we will be sent back to our books, who knows? Not I.

I came from pride and prejudice, as Elizabeth. Looking at the corner, I saw something different. Dumbledore was talking to Gandalf.

Wait a second, speaking?

“I thought I would never see this day” I say, walking toward Gandalf. “You truly can speak now it seems doesn’t it?” Stopping in front of Gandalf, Elizabeth stares him down. “Young lady, I am keeping what he wants a secret, for I know what bookworm is seeking, as so does Dumbledore, we are plotting a way to be normal back into our books own land. You could join us; we need to get all the characters ready” “that I can do”

The plan formed that week, the truths of life looming in the future with these three. The answer… there is no wrong answer. To live as you must and how you believe is the truth of life.

The month passed and to bookworms delight, Dumbledore, Gandalf and Elizabeth all three agreed to tell the truth of life bookworm so dearly awaited.

“We three agree to terms of telling you our secret” Elizabeth spoke to bookworm “for a sacrifice if you may” she continued after a pause.

“My friends Gandalf and Dumbledore here” Elizabeth nodded at both “Have put a certain spell on you, if we tell you the truth of life.” She smirked as bookworms face tightened.

“All of us will be sent back to our own books” as Elizabeth spoke bookworms face went to shock. “And you” looking right at bookworm, “Will not be able to use your sorcery again” nodding there agreement with Elizabeth, Dumbledore and Gandalf agreed, Dumbledore replying with “All your projects will be sent back” Elizabeth winking and continuing there ploy “And if not” she remarked “A spell we woven ourselves makes it so no one will be able to tell you the answer, ever, in speaking, writing, nothing at all will let you know the answer.” Finishing it up with he final words “It is up to you”

“How did you know?” bookworm stammered in his mind talking. Looking from one to the other with his frightened eyes.

“That’s right” Gandalf remarked “I have not changed at all, learning your weakness” smirking at bookworm Gandalf continued “I am still the sly wizard of Tolkien, and Dumbledore here is still the sly wizard of Harry Potter books, combine us with the damsel in distress over there” nodding to Elizabeth “ we were sure to think of something.”

Bookworm had finally gave in, the other projects but Elizabeth, Dumbledore, and Gandalf all sent back to there book. Elvis to his biography, Mary from peter pan sent to her book. David sent back to the foundation and empire series, which was Isaac Asimov. Renwald from eternity’s end, author Seffery A. Carver, made it back. Louis Wu from the ring world books by Larry Niven ventured back to his book. These were just to name a few. Bookworm wanted the answer badly.

“The answer” Dumbledore started, while Gandalf finished “Is, there is no wrong answer” and with a pop, everyone was gone, bookworm staring at the place of them thinking just how to get back, oh how he got red.

Startled awake at dawn Elizabeth itches hey eyes, remembering the dream she just had, every detail. “That” she swaggered a little “was some find night whisky there” Staggering outside for morning duties, she saw Dumbledore and Gandalf in the barn, on the hay. “What in the” Elizabeth started but knew very well, this was going to bee needed some explanation, and a very long summer.

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Dream big, live long, fulfill destiny's, mine was to sing
Old 10-26-2007, 02:36 PM
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Oh not again, another siren, another air raid, they aren’t that common I guess but this is the third this week, that’s the way it is I guess, none for a couple of months, and then a few in one week. I run down the road ushering people into shelters, when I get to the end of the village I duck into the last one, and close the door, only to hear an incessant whistling sound and singing from outside.
“Down from the hill where it began

now far ahead the road where it began
now far ahead the road has gone,
and I will follow if I can.”
I hand the rations bag to a small boy beside me and quickly rush up the steps again, coming down the track into the village is an old man with a grey beard in a cart drawn by an old grey horse, I call to him and eventually get him into the shelter, after explaining that
“No, the horse can not come along as there is not room, and I doubt he could get down the steps anyway,”
He was still reluctant but he patted the horse’s nose and, after detaching the cart, told her to run to the hills before descending into the shelter. The sirens are still sounding and I follow him into the blackness of the shelter. I can see the planes now, and here I was hoping it was a false alarm, no such luck.
When I get down I take my bag back from the boy and sit down on one of the benches lining the side of the cabin. I glance around and see that we are the only 3 in the shelter; I am surprised that the boy isn’t with his family; he must be a bright kid, to go to the nearest shelter instead of rushing to them. I ask his name,
“Elvis” he says, “Elvis Presley, and I’m going to be a famous musician when I’m older.” I smile, glad he has dreams still, and hope he lives to fulfil them, I introduce myself also “Elizabeth Bennett,” most ‘people’ look down on my deciding to help, saying I should be running charity events and such, but what’s the point of having hundreds helping the few survivors after the fact, if no-one is helping people survive during the raids. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, not if it means helping people, or getting what needs to be done, done.
I look to the old man and he introduces himself simply as Gandalf the Grey, strange name I thought, but I held back the urge to laugh. He sits down next to the child and listens to him chatter, within a few moments he is teaching him his song, the boy I notice has a nice voice, it’s not broken yet, but I can somehow tell he will make an excellent singer, they notice me watching and invite me to join, and soon enough the three of us are whittling away the time singing songs, and talking.
After a couple of hours the boy starts to yawn and I decide its bed time, there is 1 bunk bed in this cabin, so I tell him to take off his jacket and socks and put them at the end of the bunk and break off a chunk of bread and some cheese for him to eat before sleep.
Gandalf tells me to take the upper bunk and he will sleep on the bench if he is tired, I would have resisted but he insisted. So sleep I did. Hoping that come morning everything would be fine.
I woke a few hours later to Elvis shaking me, “Lady,” he said.
“Lady, the sirens have stopped,” I listen for a moment, and he is right, I climb down from the bunker and grab my coat and bag. I look at the bench and see Gandalf sitting there watching me.
Together the three of us ascend the steps wary of what we might find outside. As I open the door I smile, the lack of smoke is a good sign, and as we climb out we are glad to see that the first signs were right, and the village is intact. Gandalf whistles for his the horse and within moments we see the grey mare racing towards us down the hills he attaches the cart and offers us a ride to out homes which we accept gratefully, and as we ride down the village track in the old rickety cart we all sing together.
“The road goes ever on and on…”

As I am sure you know none of the characters are mine, nor is the wonderful song.
And yes I do realise its not historically accurate, but what did you expect?

Old 10-26-2007, 07:54 PM
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"Elizabeth Bennett" The guard called, a leash in his hand. She crawled out of the building; a filthy creature.
"You smell awful girl" the guard laughed.

"Someone should kill him." Gandalf scowled through his gruel befouled beard.
"I'd do her" snided Elvis with shaved head.
"I'd do her in my own way I mean." Elvis started laughing.

The guard, with Elizabeth on the leash, turned upon hearing the laugh. He turned sharply, Elizabeth heeled behind on all fours.
"You there! Ratboy!"
Elvis pretended not to hear. A sharp rap on the back of his head ensured he wouldn't hear again.
"Well..." Gandalf smiled up at the guard from besides Elvis' body.
"What? Do you want some too?"
"Oh, no. It's just that I..." he held his hand out to Elizabeth who sniffed and then licked it, "was only a moment ago telling him someone ought to kill you."
"And I did you a favor, eh?"
"Exactly sir!" Gandalf was laughing now, gleefully.

"Say, would you do me a favor now?"
"Ummm...if I can I suppose."
"Good, clean her up, would you?"

"Gladly!" Gandalf took her collar in his hand and yanked Elizabeth to his side.
"I'll need a knife though."
"Duh! Of course you will. How about a potato too?"
Gandalf was non-plussed. A potato? It made no sense to him.
The guard picked up on his naivete instinctively.
"To put in her mouth as you carve her up; idiot."

Gandalf the grey became Gandalf the crimson in his embarrassment. Of course! What a dolt he was!

Elizabeth, on hearing that she would soon have a potato in her mouth became excited; pawing up against Gandalf's leg. He would be her executioner! How could she explain the perfection of this to herself. She looked up at the guard, had he known?

"Yes, I knew you wanted this. Silly girl, did you think I could deny you anything? Am I a monster?" he smiled down at her.

Yes, she thought, he was a monster...but such a beautiful one. A beautiful, mocha,Teutonic, red-headed monster! She opened her mouth eagerly to take in the potato he offered to her; licking his hand sensually in the process.

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