It is fair to say that the Author's Guild, now situated in the Shades of Ankh-Morpork, had seen better days. Ever since those darn moving pictures had appeared the popularity of the written text had dropped. Indeed, why use your own imagination when you can use someone else's?
At first, Edmund Cartwright relished the new competition. He believed that it would add some excitement to the Author's Guild, a little risk never hurt anyone. Except it did. It was as if the moving pictures had slapped the authors in the face and then, to add insult to injury, thrown it to the dark and dingy depths of the Shades. Never before had a guild been so humiliated.
Although, Edmund's love for the written word was a flame that could not be extinguished. He was able to set up a small office above the inn, The Lonely Bones, in the Shades. It was not much to look at, indeed it was rather uncomfortable to look at. Originally used as a single bedroom, Edmund had convinced the landlord to throw out the old bed and fit a desk into the center of the room. This however meant that the already small room became a whole lot smaller. Books of records piled high on the desk, parchments of potential books were piled elsewhere – anywhere they could be piled. From here Edmund worked night and day and hour by hour, working tirelessly to restore the written word to it's former glory.
The phrase 'easier said than done' is most suitable for Edmund's task.
It was a dark night when Mr Toddkins arrived at The Lonely Bones, with the intention of pitching his story to the only publisher within a thousand miles. The clouds were particularly dark and sad, casting a shadow over the entire city. This was all very well for The Lonely Bones landlord since his customers were reluctant to step out of the safe light and into the dangerous darkness to go home. After all was said and done, the dark and cold outside was a good enough reason to continue drinking.
The night's drinking and making merry was well under way when a short, plump man, around his mid-forties, stepped into the inn. His face was red and round; red because of the bitter cold and round because this man found it difficult to say no to seconds. His hair was a tangled, ginger mess and his shaving skills left much to be desired. And yet the man's eyes had a creative sparkle about them, one could immediately tell that this man was gifted with wit and wisdom. In any other society this man would be looked up to as an educated and proper person. In Ankh-Morpork however this creative and educated man only had one choice to make – con or be conned.
I feel that I should explain this description a little to you. I have given you his facial structure and the manner of his presence first only because I hold your attention for now. However, now that I have conveyed what I needed to convey, the time is now right for me to reveal the dress that the man chose to adopt for the night in question. Most citizens of Ankh-Morpork would dress themselves in proper and respectable clothing, in accordance with their social class. For example, a wizard would wear robes and a pointy hat whilst a beggar would dress in dirty rags. A wizard would not be seen dead in the rags of a beggar, likewise a beggar would rather take a swim in the Ankh (or at least try to) than dress in the robes of a wizard. Although the dress that Mr Toddkins adopted for this night can only be described as... absent... completely absent.
Such was the shock of this that it did not quite settle in the minds of the drinkers, not least because it put half the inn to shame... the other half were women. The complete absurdity and wrongness of appearing in an Ankh Morpork inn completely nude was unheard of. Such an event would spread like wild fire across the entire city and The Lonely Bones would forever be remembered as 'that pub with no clothes'. The landlord, his name being Mr Briggs, could not have this bad reputation starting for the sake of business.
"My God!" Mr Briggs called out, making sure he was heard across the entire inn, "That man has three legs!"
A moment of silence. Everyone knew it was a lie, everyone knew what was really going on. But in a city like Ankh Morpork an odd chap with a third leg, though itself looked down upon, was much preferred to a man who let it all hang out... especially for Mr Toddkins. And so the crowd in the inn nodded in agreement, some sighed and a few chuckled but all in all they were in agreement that this new arrival had three legs and a small satchel. Mr Toddkins seemed unaware of the fuss he had caused and approached the bar, Mr Briggs was still red in the face.
"How may I... serve you?" Mr Briggs inquired.
"Am I too assume that this is the Ankh Morpork Guild for Authors?" Mr Toddkins inquired back.
"What? No, no, this is the Lonely Bones inn. Edmund's upstairs, I mean, the Author's Guild is upstairs."
"Thank you." With that Mr Toddkins left for the stairs, Mr Briggs called after him.
"Room Thirteen!"
Edmund sat at his desk, trying to work out how to market a potential new book called 'The Downside of Richness'. It was a book, written by a chap from the Jester's Guild arguing that being rich and happy was not all it was cracked up to be. Still, Edmund would rather be doing that than reading the latest manuscript sent to him. It had arrived a few days ago... on the back of a donkey cart. Edmund wondered whether all the books he had so far published amounted to the text that this one story offered him. And then came a sharp knocking at the door.
"Come in," Edmund sighed, it was probably some drunk got lost on his way to the privy.
In stepped Mr Toddkins and, just as before, Edmund was left speechless for rather obvious reasons.
"Greetings, my name is Mr Toddkins and I have come about my manuscript," Mr Toddkins held out a hand in a kind gesture, as if everything was where it should be. At this point Edmund gathered his wits and came to the conclusion that this was some drunk who, by no fault of his own, had lost his clothes.
"Err, manuscript?" Edmund pondered how to deal with this, without intending to he began to talk as if he were talking to a child, "I think you left it downstairs... where are your clothes?"
"I beg your pardon, I did not leave my manuscript downstairs."
"Look, I haven't got time for this, go back downstairs or better yet go home and sober up."
"You misunderstand me, sir, I have come about my manuscript, not to drink"
"Oh, really," It had been a long night, they all were, and Edmund grew tired of this drunk, "Name?"
"Beg pardon?"
"Your name? What is your name? So that I may locate your manuscript."
"My name is Mr Toddkins."
Edmund instantly recognized the name, the large manuscript was written by a Mr Toddkins. This was getting better and better, it appeared that Mr Toddkins was no drunk and was genuinely here to discuss his manuscript.
"You," Edmund sighed, "You wrote all this?"
"Indeed."
"How long did it take you?"
"Over three years."
"Three years?"
"Non-stop."
"How?" Edmund couldn't quite believe this.
"I shall start at the beginning," Mr Toddkins breathed in, and then began, "It was just over three years ago that I concluded the tales and books of heroes and adventuring had grown rather thin. I took it upon myself to write an adventure so great it would attract every capable reader in the lands. For this I needed total harmony, so I journeyed into the forests and lived with Mother Nature-"
"Is that why you're..." Edmund whispered, "Without clothes?"
"Correct, I did not wear clothing in the forests, this helped me focus on nature."
"So, why are you still naked?"
"I must confess, I've grown rather fond of it."
"Well, the rest of us haven't so put this on."
Edmund threw a poncho to Mr Toddkins who accepted that clothing was suitable at this point.
"Anyway, I have spent three years writing this text and I believe I have written the greatest story in the universe."
"Oh really, and what do you call it?"
"I call it," Mr Toddkins pride was obvious, "Adventure Tale!"
Edmund pondered, he pondered a lot, the story had better be far better than the title, that was for sure. Then again, a story like this would attract the public eye. The manner in which it had been would attract interest at the very least and might put books back in the spot light. Maybe not permanently but it would provide the opportunity to attract new readers and, more importantly, more authors! Edmund made up his mind.
"I accept." Edmund smiled, shaking Mr Toddkins' hand.
"You do? Oh, wonderful, wonderful!"
"I'll need to take your details." Edmund prepared a formal contract.
"Certainly."
"Your name?"
"Mr Toddkins."
"No, no, your full name."
"Oh, well, my second name is Toddkins."
"And you're first?" Edmund noticed that Mr Toddkins had gone all shy at this point, "I need your first name."
"It's... Jrr."
"What? Ger? How do you spell that?"
"J-R-R, it's pronounced Ger as in 'germ'."
"What an odd name, if you don't mind me saying so."
"My parents were not the best spellers, I believe they wanted to call me Jeremy however they got a bit confused and gave up." Mr Toddkins said.
"Well then, Mr Jrr Toddkins, how about that title for your story?"
"Adventure Tale."
"Hmm, not very catchy is it, a bit plain, if you ask me."
"Oh, well, I had another title that I thought of using."
"What is it?"
"The Lord of the Rings."
"Perfect."
Both Edmund and Mr Toddkins had the feeling that something very, very special had begun.