Gandwell: Hot hobnobs? Lobit!

It was a cold stormy winter's day, the year was 1122 of the 3rd age- but that's completely irrelevant- I'm just watching all weather forecasts on the EBC (Elvish Broadcasting Corporation) archive. Gandwell was born on the 15th of March, the only son (that they talk about) of Fradoc Norcross of the cheese and Merwdda Gardner of Westmarch. He was an abnormal child, and his parents blamed this on his meeting with Jonathunfun, the local travelling merchant, who caused quite a stir in the Realm of Cheeseland. For you see; he founded the "Scouting for Elf Monks" society which Gandwell found fascinating, and he was quickly accepted into the ranks of the esteemed society. Jonathun, a fond support of the labour for cheese party, filled Gandwell's mind with tales of cheese, and biscuits and apple pie, and cheesecake, and orange juice, and chicken and mushroom pie, spaghetti bolognaise , croissants...though he hated the monthly treks and hikes that Jonauthfun organized, he loathed even more the annual camp to the base of looming mountain, Mount Boom (the local elf monks call it Onomatopoeia in the tongue of old).Though these trips were eventually stopped - it turned out that when Sauron said "I'd rather a bunch of Elf Monk's scouts than you; call yourself a trible oh-hais?" he didn't expect The Mouth of Sauron to take him literally, and create an ad in the local classified.

I suppose Elf Monks need some description, as they've become so rare- they are rarely seen by men, and tend to stay in their land of the Evenmark. They live in holes- holes left over from the last apocalypse caused Moforth. Not beach like, sand holes, but yet not bare, earthy holes either. These were Elf Monk holes; and that meant comfort! Elf monks tended to be large around the stomach, but after the cheesestring famine of 1919, they moved back to a more healthy diet. That meant only twenty meals a day (four breakfasts, 6 dinners, 6 evening meals, and four suppers) as well as numerous snacks throughout the day. It was tough, but the willingness of the Elf Monks held them in good stead. Elf Monks did do a lot of exercise though (excluding eating) so a large proportion of this food was burned off. Literally speaking. I'm joking: Metaphorically speaking.

Gandwell was very unadventurous- even for an Elf Monk- "Hey-remember when I walked to the post office- right in the middle of the flu season!"

Fine. Gandwell was very unadventurous- even for an Elf Monk. Anything with more excitement than going on a nice walk around the Cheeseland , was too exciting for him. He lived in the best house in town, which his father had built for his mother; Lag end. But Gandwell was related to the famous Belladonarkebab, who often went out on adventurous not to return till months, even years later. Legend had it that her descendents sometimes mysteriously left (to go to the supplies store) returned and then left again (they didn't have any rope at Jims) only to return, and then to leave again (horse insurance had expired) and then arrive back in Cheeseland at the crack of- well middle of the day. THEN, and not before, they would leave and set off on some kind of dangerous adventure. After every noble departure, a wave of adventurous feeling swept across Cheeseland- maybe adventure weren't that bad? Most never returned- but if one did, bitten by wolves, half-drowned, missing a few fingers and even more toes, most of the local population felt that their decision not to go on an adventure, had been vindicated.

But Gandwell probably did get this remarkable gene, though you would have never guessed it. He had never done anything unusual or remarkable, save perhaps the time where he helped the bounders of cheese and help catch the infamous mutant cow; he made cups of tea for the thirsty people trying to catch Grassy. But compared to the wonders that others had done and seen, Gandwell had the most uneventful life imaginable. Nothing unexpected or troubling ever happened to Gandwell. Apart from when he saw his cable bill.

Another sun rose and covered the Evenmark, the pale light glinted of Gandwell's tidy garden; and the yet known changing windswept the flowers to and thro. By mid morning Gandwell had already finished two breakfasts. He was just tucking into a third, when he heard a loud knock on his door. Gandwell rushed to the door, a la seeing your favourite person ever, and quickly rushed to open the door. Standing tall stood a magnificent sight, Gandwell felt he was looking on an otherworldly King of the first age. Keith had arrived!

"Um-Hi-Pizza?" said the noble tongue of Keith, deliver or Pizzas.

"Yes! That's me!" Gandwell replied to the delivery boy of Pippin's Pizzas.

Slowly Keith spoke. "Um-you see- slight problem..." Keith was trying to engage the madness of this man, and how he would deal with the bad news that burdened the young man.

"Is there a problem? A problem that would make me fly into an unreasoned rage?" Gandwell responded rather unsympathetically to the nervous Keith, for he was by now extremely hungry.

"No sir!" stuttered Keith without thinking.

"But you just said there was!" exclaimed Gandwell, stamping his feat at the boys consistency.

Keith decided that he better be honest; he hadn't completed the course "Lying to Elf Monks" and felt that this particular Elfmonk couldn't be fooled easily. "Then again..." Keith thought to himself, as Gandwell pulled out a magazine with the headline "Arwen and Arabarn- are they now together? "I give them two weeks!" said the optimistic Keith.

" There's a dark storm coming Gandwell. Be wary- the winds changing- the dark is all consuming. But remember that light always prevails, and when in doubt on your perilous journey, just look up at the shining jewels above our heads, and you'll realized that the dark is just passing and infinity of light dwarfs the evil of Evenmark.

Gandwell was thinking of the best way to deal with this madman. He guessed that he didn't work for Pippin's Pizzas at all; he was just some loony. Gandwell decided that he would humour Keith, and play along for a bit.

"Thanks for that Keith! Really inspiring words there- ever considered becoming a sinister fantasy writer? You could you know...description like that..."

"Interesting you should say that...I've been doing a bit of writing..." Keith moved into talking about his ventures into creating literature, while Gandwell blanked out. Keith continued "...working on something called "Lord of the Rings...want to publish it under the pseudonym J.R.R Tolkien..." This went on for quite some time until Keith, faced with the risk of getting punched by Gandwell, was interrupted by the now very peckish Elf Monk.

"Sounds interesting..." Secretly Gandwell thought that this was the worst title of a book he'd ever heard, and Keith's ramblings about Hobbits, a wizard, some elves, well, reinforced his beliefs that Keith was a madman. Gandwell didn't even think that Little Brown Books, the irresponsible publisher of the eyelight series, would accept this.

"Well, I can't spend all day chatting- I've work to do!" said Gandwell trying to politely to tell this bizarre teenage Elf Monk that he was no longer working here. "By all means come to tea! Thursday! Come to tea!" Then Gandwell swiftly closed the door. Keith stood there, laughing quietly to himself, for several minutes. He then strode away; but not before making an unusual mark on the door, almost like a sign, using the sharp end of a corner of his pizza box.

Gandwell had almost forgotten about his promise of tea on Thursday. He hadn't written it down on his IFAD you see, he had much too flustered to do anything of the sort after his encounter with Keith. At the sound of the bell, his mind returned to yesterday and his meeting with Keith. Quickly, he checked himself in the mirror, his green checked shirt wasn't buttoned up correctly. Gandwell decided that it wasn't worth the bother of redoing the buttons on his shirt. "After all..." he said to himself, "it's not like there's going to be twelve dwarfs at the door, all carrying musical instruments!"