In which Tortall is invaded by two fan authors and a white rabbit.
Disclaimer: I belong to me. Claire belongs to herself. Anyone wearing funny clothes belongs to Tamora Pierce. The plot bunny was conceived after watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail late at night. The 'jerk' I saw on Xena once. I don't know who 'Men In Tights' belongs to but it's not me.. Etc., etc. On a happier note, Self-Spiking Punch and Mandatory Mistletoe are mine. A must for your next party - order now to avoid disappointment!
Author's Note: Claire and I both like Harry Potter. We both like crossovers. We both like puns. You have been warned.
Rating: PG. Contains offensive language and Scottish country dancing. Reader discretion is advised.
NB: ~~ indicates stuff written on the magic pad.
Chris and Claire, fan authors supreme, stepped through the world-gate into a beautiful, crisp, Tortallan winter's day.
"Now we can have us some fun!"
"Try writing something."
Claire wrote two words.
- ~~ Night falls.
A voice was heard to exclaim "Ow!"
"Hey wow, auto-MST!"
"Still, I might turn it off. It could get annoying."
A boy appeared to one side. "No, this could get annoying! I know a song that's very irritating, very irritating, very irritating, I know a song that's very irri -"
Claire hurriedly flicked a switch on the side of her pen, cutting him off.
Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, called the Lioness, rode down the dusty road some miles away from Corus. She'd been avoiding the capital for some time now, but she thought it might be time to return. The girl Keladry was past her probation year now, so there was surely no need to continue placating Lord Wyldon.
Her musings were interrupted when she saw a jagged-edged tear appear over the path in front of her. Alanna rubbed her eyes. Were those buildings she could see on the other side?
Just then, two girls climbed through. One was tall, one short, though both had brown hair and freckles. The short one carried a pen and note-pad. The tall one had something in her arms - a doll? A cat? Alanna rubbed her eyes again. It was a rabbit. A large, white rabbit. With red, glowing eyes.
The rabbit, seeming to sense her scrutiny, growled and bared its fangs. Its owner stroked its ears, murmuring soothingly to it.
"Good plot bunny. Nice plot bunny. Good plot bunny."
Alanna supposed they might be from the university, trying out a transport spell - but they were wearing pretty strange clothes. And what about the bunny?
"Who are you?" she asked.
They exchanged mischievous glances. The taller one nodded, grinning.
"We are the knights of Ni!"
"You must bring us a shrubbery!"
"Or we will not let you pass! Ni! Ni! Ni!"
"Where is this Ni, then? It's not a Tortallan fief."
"Ni! Ni! Ni!"
Oh. I get it. It's their catchcry. Like "For the honour and glory of Tortall!" Only different.
"Would you stand aside, please?"
"Ni!"
She nudged Darkmoon to a trot. They didn't move. She saw
one elbow the other, hissing:
"Claire! The notepad!"
"Oh right, gotcha." Claire took out the notepad, and scribbled a few
words.
- ~~ Alanna the Lioness -
This was not an improvement. She'd take even an armoured human over
a large, hairy animal - with fangs - any day.
- ~~
Alanna dismounted.That was weird!
The tall girl laughed, and said
"Hey, Claire! She's almost as short as you!"
Alanna growled. So did the girl - Claire.
"I am Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, King's Champion of Tortall. Who in Mithros' name are you?"
"Oh, we know who you are. We're Chris and Claire, fan authors supreme."
"I thought you were the Knights of Ni?"
"That's just our little joke."
When they didn't elaborate, Alanna continued.
"Look, you have no right to be rampaging about the countryside turning people into lions."
"It was a lioness. And it wasn't me, it was the pad. It tends to take things literally."
"Nevertheless. You're coming with me to the king."
"Are we?" They grinned mockingly.
"Yes. Even if I have to tie you up and drag you." She stepped toward them.
Claire scribbled.
- ~~ Alanna, being a good and dutiful knight, loyal to the Crown,
stands still and starts singing patriotic songs.
Alanna's mouth opened, without having received any orders from her.
"Land of hope and glory, mother of the free - "
"No, I have a better idea. Gimme that." Chris tucked the plot bunny under one arm and grabbed the pad off her friend.
"How shall we extol thee - "
- ~~ She stops singing Land of Hope and Glory and starts on The Song
That Doesn't End.
"This is the song that doesn't end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because this is the song - "
"Chris, dude, that's just mean. Why don't we go with her to Corus?"
"Whatever."
- ~~ Alanna stops singing altogether.
" - that doesn't end, yes it goes on and on - "
Oh, right. She stops singing anything called 'Altogether',
but keeps on with The Song That Doesn't End.
- ~~ Alanna stops singing.
"All right? That clear enough for you, pad?"
Chris looked speculative. "You want us to go to Corus? Where the king is? And Kel? And Joren? And lots of other people?"
Alanna nodded curtly.
"OK!"
"A horse, a horse, my republic for a horse!"
Chris wrote busily again.
- ~~ Two horses, saddled and bridled, walk out from behind a tree.
"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Chris was determined to follow the protocol for long journeys. "Ooh, a donkey! Hee haw! Hee haw!"
Alanna looked questioningly at Claire, who seemed marginally the more sensible of the two.
"It's the Animal Game, OK? See animal, make noise. She does this on long trips. Just be glad you're not stuck in a car with her."
"Car?"
"Never mind."
They rode past a field of corn.
"Hey! That corn's a-maize-ing!"
Alanna rolled her eyes. Great Goddess, how have I sinned against You that You must punish me thus? Oh no - pun-ish - the gods-cursed things are contagious!
As they dismounted in front of the Royal Palace, the plot bunny, which had been lying across the saddle horn in front of Chris, leapt down and disappeared into the Royal Forest.
"Eep! Here, plot bunny, plot bunny, plot bunny! Come to Mother! Here, plot bunny!"
A large, pink rabbit walked past - upright - banging a drum.
"Oi! You're not the plot bunny, you're the Energizer bunny! Bugger off!"
"Try the pad," suggested Claire.
"No good. They're both plot devices. Plot devices can't be used on each other, only on things inside the story."
"Damn."
"Buggrit."
"Millennium hand and shrimp."
To be honest, Alanna didn't see what they were worried about. The plot bunny hadn't been particularly attractive. Or possessed of a nice personality. She hesitated to say good riddance - oh, what the heck.
"Good riddance to the bloody thing," she muttered. "Look, you two better come with me to see the king."
"Oh, really." Chris wrote something.
- ~~ Alanna says: "We don't need to interrogate you."
"We don't need to interrogate you."
- ~~ "You aren't the droids we're looking for."
"You aren't the droids we're looking for."
Alanna summoned enough self-control to wonder, What's a droid?
- ~~ "You can go about your business."
"You can go about your business."
"Hey, thanks! Which way to the pages' wing?"
- ~~ Keladry of Mindelan awoke with a jerk.
"Aaaargh! What in the Black God's name are you doing here?! Out, OUT, OUT!!!"
Joren of Stone Mountain hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Chris, standing at the end of the corridor, heard the commotion. "Heh, heh, heh."
Joren stumbled into the corridor at the business end of a glaive, frantically trying to hold his hose up while keeping a grip on his boots.
"And don't even think about telling Lord Wyldon about this, 'cos you'll be just as expelled as me!"
Kel slammed the door behind her and stood in the corridor to make sure he went away. Far, far away.
What next? Chris wondered. Pages, pages, pages…ooh, I know!
- ~~ Hearing a noise, Page Keladry turned. [geddit?] An older,
dog-eared page was coming down the corridor toward her room.
"Kel! Get dressed or we'll be late for breakfast!" Neal scratched his ears. They hadn't been so floppy yesterday, had they? Or furry. "Kel, have you noticed anything weird going on?"
"Funny you should ask that…have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Claire came in the outer door, took one look and groaned.
"Dog-eared pages - you didn't!"
"Yup!"
Shortly afterward, Chris and Claire lounged inconspicuously in the corner of the pages' dining hall, watching them eat breakfast.
"I think I feel a pun coming on." Claire took the pad.
- ~~ "Look, Neal, rolls!" said Kel.
Neal dropped to the ground and rolled over, several times.
"Huh! And you yelled at me for 'dog-eared pages'!"
Claire just smirked.
"This is boring. Give us the pad back - I want to liven things
up a bit."
- ~~ A cream puff hits Joren on the nose.
Chris sat back, satisfied, as a full-scale food fight started.
"And where's Lord Wyldon in all this?" Claire wanted to know.
- ~~ Lord Wyldon is cowering under his table, having had a pie
shoved down his shirt.
Kel dusted her hands together, smiling beatifically. It was amazing what an effect seeing Joren with a pot of strawberry jam and half a bowl of porridge in his hair did for your mood, she thought. She wasn't at all sure how the food fight had started - who had thrown that first cream puff? - but she wasn't complaining. Her side had won, after all.
"That was jolly!" Owen of Jesslaw liked fights - food, fist, sword, whatever.
"Yeah. And just look at that lovely smudge of cream on Joren's nose!"
"And the ham behind Vinson's ear."
"And the banana down Quinden's trousers."
"And apple pie all over the Stump!" Neal looked, if anything, more pleased than either of them.
"Stand still." Kel wiped a dab of cream and jam off her friend's cheek, and licked her finger absently. She wondered if Neal had noticed his new ears yet.
Chris continued to write.
- ~~ Kel and her friends link arms to form a chorus line…
Kel wasn't quite sure what was happening. Her legs seemed to be doing high kicks for reasons of their own.
"We're kids, we're kids in tights - TIGHT tights!"
Claire gave her friend a Look.
"Yeah, I know, I know, I've already had a story with this joke in but I couldn't resist - aren't they cute?"
"We roam around the palace looking for fights.
And we don't like bullies
So watch what you say or else we'll put out your lights!"
"I wanna go! My turn!" Claire grabbed the pad.
- ~~ They switch tunes to the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
"Glory, glory to the pages!
Hazing puts us in such rages!
If Joren don't move fast
We're going to kick his lily ass
And truth goes marching on!"
Neal cleared his throat. A glob of custard fell off his nose.
"Yeah, I know, bad grammar! But at least it scans and I'd like to see you do better on the spur of the moment!"
Joren glowered. He really didn't like those girls. Any of them.
"Oh I am a Tortallan page, I do what I am told
And I run around in winter, through rain and snow and cold
Because if I make a fuss and complain about the work
I'll get given yet more chores 'cos Lord Wyldon is a jerk!"
Claire glanced at Lord Wyldon. He was still under the table, but
his eyebrows looked distinctly ominous. Better do something about
that.
- ~~ Lord Wyldon forgets to be angry. In fact, he forgets that
any of this happened, and settles back to enjoy the show. Joren gets up
for a solo spot.
Joren looked mutinous. Claire held up a flashcard with a white ferret on it and made threatening gestures.
"I am Joren of Stone Mountain and I am such a jerk
I think I am the hottest shit and I don't like to work
I like to bully other kids and make them get me scones
But I freak out when Neal says Garvey wants to jump my bones!"
Chris and Claire smiled sweetly and fluttered their eyelashes at Joren
and Garvey, both of whom looked apoplectic. Chris picked up the pad.
- ~~ Cleon steps forward to sing.
"Oh, my name is Cleon and I think I fancy Kel
Because she's really pretty and she always fights so well
But I'm really sad because she doesn't like me back
She's in love with Neal - she wants to get him in the sack!"
Kel stared at Cleon. Neal stared at Kel. All three blushed.
- ~~ Lord Wyldon gets out from under the table.
"Oh, my name is Wyldon, I'm the training master lord
And this is going on too long - I'm starting to get bored
The pages all had better go to lessons very soon
And if you don't know why it's 'cos they're singing out of tune!"
Chris frowned. Lesson of the day - specify what they're going to sing.
"Trust him to spoil our fun!"
Claire shook her head in agreement.
"Oh well. We were almost finished anyway. But I had such a clever one for Neal…" she murmured wistfully. Maybe later.
Meanwhile, back in the Royal Forest…
The plot bunny looked up from the body of a deer and delicately wiped
its bloody fangs on a paw. Venison was so much better than
lettuce…
"Ooh, Joren! What a big staff you have!" Kel wanted to follow up on her breakfast triumph.
"What do you mean, Lump?" Joren was a trifle defensive.
"Heh, heh, heh." Chris could feel a pun coming on.
- ~~ Joren is a trifle defensive.
"Ooh, dessert!"
Chris scribbled something more. Joren stood up, again covered in cream, custard and assorted fruit. Kel grinned. The day seemed to be improving.
"You know what's missing here?" Claire mused.
"Um?"
"Xena!"
"No, Kevin Smith!"
- ~~ Ares, God of War, steps out from behind a cloud.
Mithros appeared in a shaft of sunlight and glared at Ares.
"Oops, wrong pantheon." Ares disappeared.
Light sparkled on the Sun God's cuirass.
"Hey, that's a really great word. Cuirass, cuirass, cuirass.
I like it!"
- ~~ Cuirass, cuirass, cuirass.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
All the pages jumped to avoid the falling pieces of armour. Mithros shook his head in disgust and faded out. Mortals.
"Heh, heh, heh."
- ~~ Hauberk! Greave! Baldric! Plastron! Gauntlet! Vambrace! Sallet!
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"Gimme that pad." Sometimes Claire found it necessary to suppress
her friend - for her own good, of course.
- ~~ Xena and Gabrielle appear in the practice courts.
"AIEEEEEEE!" Xena somersaulted over the fence and landed in a crouch, her arms up in a fighting stance. Gabrielle followed, more sedately. All the pages blinked in surprise.
"You know what would be interesting?"
"Just getting to it."
- ~~ Alanna walks into the training grounds. She greets Xena and
they settle down to a practice bout.
"So, did you arrange this for their benefit?" Xena nodded suspiciously at the pages, who were watching, open-mouthed.
"I couldn't swear to why you're here, but I expect THEY'VE got something to do with it." Alanna scowled and waved an expressive practice sword at the two girls sprawling under a nearby tree. Chris and Claire waved back.
"Who's going to win, though?"
"Oh, Xena, definitely. She's like a foot taller. And Alanna doesn't
have a razor frisbee thingy. Plus she can't do those cool flips.
Which reminds me…" Claire picked up the pen again.
- ~~ Xena does a somersault, landing behind Alanna, and ululates.
"AIAIAIAIAIAIEEEEEEE!!!!"
"Hey, that's a really great word - ululates! Ululates, ululates, ululates." Chris tried to grab the pad, which Claire had wisely snatched away.
Alanna spun, swinging her sword up and around to snatch Xena's out of her hand. Xena threw her chakram, which struck sparks as it knocked Alanna's sword to the ground. Alanna's leg curled up and out in a swift Shang kick, which Xena avoided by leaping up to land on a tree branch.
"By the power of special effects, I am Xena, Warrior Princess!"
"Oi! That's cheating! They're meant to follow the laws of physics here."
"Oh, like that trick with the chakram actually works!"
- ~~ Alanna decides that, since Xena is obviously breaking the laws of
physics, she can too.
Alanna sent out a rope of purple fire, which coiled around Xena's ankles. Before Xena had time to blink, she was hanging upside down in mid-air. Oh my gods - everyone can see my leather knickers! Xena thought frantically. Several coins clattered out of her breastplate onto the ground.
"Shall - we - call - it - a - draw - then?" Xena puffed.
- ~~ Alanna is magnanimous.
Something whirred and a tendril of smoke coiled up from the pad.
"Magnanimous means nice, stupid!" Claire hissed.
"All right. Say, can you teach me that trick with the dinner plate thingy? And have you ever thought of wearing breeches?"
"I thought you were going to have Xena win?"
"Yeah, well, her special tricks probably count as cheating. Plus it's a bit mean to make Alanna look like an eejit - in front of the pages and all." Claire, caught in a moment of sentimentality, looked sheepish.
"Hey, looking a bit sheepish there, what?"
"Don't even try. The pad doesn't work on us, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Damn."
"Alanna could beat Hercules, right?"
"Yeah, piece of cake."
- ~~ Hercules arrives and starts orating.
"I am Hercules, son of the mighty god Zeus!"
"Who's he?" Owen hissed in Kel's ear. Kel shrugged.
"I have the strength in battle of ten men! Who will challenge me?"
Alanna and Xena exchanged glances.
"Wanna take turns?" Alanna nodded. Strength of ten men, maybe, but he looked pretty dim.
"I will, oh great champion!"
"Forgive me, my lady, but who are you?" Now he looked dim - and surprised.
Ye gods - not this again! "Sir Alanna, knight of the realm of Tortall, King's Champion, slayer of bug-eyed monsters, lady of - you don't need to hear all my titles."
Chris looked at Claire. "Bug-eyed monsters?"
Claire smirked.
Hercules shrugged, and assumed a fighting stance.
Two minutes later, Alanna was sitting on his chest, polishing her practice blade. Hercules struggled to his feet as she got off. Xena stepped forward.
"Xena, Warrior Princess! A brave fighter - but I will defeat you!"
Xena raised an eyebrow.
Two minutes later, Xena was sitting on Hercules' chest, polishing her chakram.
"I thought we decided the chakram was cheating?"
"Chakram, strength of ten men - it evens out."
"You don't like Hercules, do you?"
Claire laughed. "He's a self-important twit. Plus those
leather pedalpushers look really silly."
- ~~ Exit Hercules, pursued by jeers.
Chris suddenly chuckled, and pointed. Gabrielle was practicing staff moves with Kel, while Neal looked on rapturously.
"Do something about that, will you?"
"OK, OK."
- ~~ Exit Xena and Gabrielle, pursued by Neal.
"All right. I've tried and tried to stop myself - maybe I should
join Crossovers Anonymous - but I just can't help it!" Chris grimaced.
- ~~ Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ron, Fred and
George Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team materialise.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
"OK, maybe the entire Quidditch team was a bit much. But it's done now! It'd be mean to send them back…" Chris produced a sickly grin as she ran out of excuses.
Claire sighed. Oh well. At least the Weasley twins might turn out to be useful.
Harry and the rest of the Quidditch team caught sight of the practice ring.
"Whoa! Brilliant Quidditch pitch! Put some goalposts up, somebody, and we can have a game."
"Perpendiculus!"
Hermione shook her head, and walked to the edge of the ring to watch. Chris' eyes glinted, and shortly afterwards, Owen of Jesslaw could be heard saying,
"Did you know there's libraries here? There are - lots of them! Want me to show you?"
Lord Wyldon gave that day's weapons training up as a bad job and decided to go in early for lunch.
A few very satisfying weeks later, Claire and Chris, dressed in the best frocks they could persuade the pad to conjure up, watched the great ones of Tortall file into the hall for the Midwinter celebrations. Chris bit her lip to keep from giggling as she glanced over at the refreshments table. Fred and George Weasley waved at her. Fred smirked and made eloquent flapping gestures at a pile of fruit tarts. George leered. Oh, this is going to be sweet - and I didn't even have to use the pad. All it took was a nice chat with those lovely boys over there - so helpful!
Claire broke into her self-satisfied reverie.
"Hey, what are they doing there? Pages aren't supposed to be allowed at these posh parties."
"I arranged for it specially. It just wouldn't be the same without them - 'sides, I got a hoe-down for Neal later…heh heh."
Chris hummed softly to herself and sat down to write.
- ~~ Everyone is celebrating the festival with a grand display of Scottish
country dancing. Kel, Neal, Cleon and Uline are doing an energetic
foursome reel.
"Wow, just look at those kids blush!" You could cut the unrequited lust with a knife. Chris was pleased with herself.
Claire fell silent for a moment, then demanded the pad. Chris looked suspicious, then horrified.
"No! No! No way am I letting you make puns about horizontal folk-dancing! I'm trying to keep this PG, thank you very much."
"Gah. You had to pick now to go all quick-on-the-uptake…"
- ~~ King Jonathan mounts the dais to perform the Highland Fling.
Everyone can see his knobbly knees under his kilt.
Badly smothered giggles erupted all over the hall.
"Ever wondered what a Scotsman wears under his kilt?" Claire, hopeful.
"What part of PG do you not understand?"
Silence fell as the pair found a comfortable alcove with a good view of the dancing.
"What's it called when they do that?" Claire asked a few minutes later.
Chris consulted the Collins Pocket Reference Guide to Scottish Country Dancing.
"Stripping the willow."
"Oh, you've got to let me have that one!"
"Look, you pipe down and wait your turn. Besides, if you brought in Willow, you'd have to bring in Buffy and so on, and then Buffy would have to fight Alanna and then it would all turn to repetitive custard."
"Millennium hand and shrimp…what's this dance called?"
"The Highlandman's Umbrella."
"This one?"
"The Mrs. MacLeod."
"This?"
"The Minerva McGonagall."
"Really?"
"No."
Chris decided to have a halt called to the dancing, as people were looking red in the face and shiny with sweat. Heh heh - tomatoes in kilts! She and Claire made their way over to the refreshment table to join the Weasleys.
A girl approached. Chris rubbed her hands together in glee as she noticed curly brown hair and blue-grey eyes.
Daine accepted a fruit tart and a glass of punch, smiling her thanks at the Weasleys. She bit into the tart.
Wait for it…wait for it…
In a puff of sparkly smoke, she turned into a five-foot canary. She flapped her wings and squawked, annoyed.
Claire turned to Chris. They sighed happily, and said in unison:
"Just then Daine created a slight diversion by turning into a large canary!"
"Oh, I've been wanting to use that joke!"
"Where's Neville?" asked Fred. "He should be here to see this."
"Playing Quidditch, as far as I know. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Hermione for a while…wonder where she is?"
"Over there, with wee Owen." Claire pointed. Hermione waved from an alcove on the far side of the hall. Apparently not having noticed the sudden appearance and disappearance of an oversized canary - Daine was now sitting on the floor treating the Weasleys to a few choice curses and picking feathers out of her hair - Hermione used a summoning charm on several fruit tartlets. Fred and George gave each other a sick look.
"Oh, we're going to get it when we get back to school!"
"D'you think we could sneak up and hit her with a Memory Charm?"
"Hermione? Not a chance."
A tall, black-haired man approached, drawn by the commotion around the canary incident.
"Oh, oh, life is sweet!" Claire bounced on her heels. "Gimme the pad!"
"Wizardly duel, wizardly duel!"
- ~~ An enemy wizard appears.
"Why hello, Professor Snape!"
The twins, not liking this development, ducked under the table.
"Densaugeo!" Numair pointed, and Snape suddenly found himself with teeth long enough to cut his chin.
"Ow! Furnunculus!" Greenish globules shot out of Snape's wand, to affix themselves to their target as boils.
"Hattigrandissimo!" Snape's pointy wizard's hat turned into… a very large pointy wizard's hat. In fact, it was rather more than six feet high and two or three wide. With difficulty, Snape crawled out from under the brim.
"Tonsulus!" Numair now sported a crew cut.
"Leave my hair alone!" He tossed a ball of black fire in Snape's direction. Where Snape had been was a small, black, bouncing…ferret.
"Black?" Chris said, puzzled.
"Colour-coding. Draco and Joren make white ferrets, Snape makes a black ferret and…hmmm, Fred or George, say, would be red."
Fred and George scooted a little further away, taking the table with them.
Chris dived after them as two Jelly-Legs hexes ricocheted off each other. Several onlookers sat down in a hurry. Several more wobbled precariously.
At length, as Claire's ideas for spells ran out, Numair hit Snape with a Bananafinger curse. Snape dropped his wand and mimed surrender.
"Right, that was fun, wasn't it?" Claire said brightly. "Run along, now." Snape disappeared with a POP, presumably back to Hogwarts. Numair scratched his chin pointedly.
"All right, all right. Though you really should consider wearing
your hair shorter."
- ~~ All spell-effects from the duel are cancelled.
Daine, who still showed a lingering tendency to chirp instead of talking, took his arm and pulled him away.
"It's best just to - cheep - stay out of their range."
Claire mock-curtsied, grinning evilly.
Fred Weasley turned to his brother.
"Have you noticed that a lot of these women are wearing dresses that fasten up the front? Do you think - "
"The Alohomora charm? Worth a try!" George waggled his eyebrows. They pulled out their wands.
"Hey Chris, I thought you wanted this PG?"
"I do, why?"
Claire pointed. Chris' eyes widened.
"WEASLEY!!!! STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall."
"Right away, Professor McGonagall." The twins were unimpressed at having their fun interrupted.
Chris stuck her tongue out.
The pipe band struck up Auld Lang Syne.
"Waaaaaah! This song alwaysh makesh me cry-y!" Chris sobbed.
Claire looked at her askance.
"Chris? Have you been drinking something stronger than Butterbeer?"
"No" - sniff - "Only punch…"
Punch. From the Weasleys' refreshment table. This was not good. Claire looked around. The party looked significantly more disorganised than before: several people were trying out rusty disco moves and a group of squires were trying to do the limbo with a ceremonial pike from the wall.
Always happens. Always. Get anyone over the age of thirty drunk, and they start impersonating the Bee Gees. Must be a law of nature or something.
"Fred. George. What did you put in the punch."
The twins blushed.
"Oh, it's just something we invented last week - Self-Spiking Punch. It's perfectly ordinary to start off with, but leave it in the bowl for more than five minutes and it goes alcoholic. We thought you'd like it."
"Yeah, it's cool - but you've never seen Chris drunk."
The object of their discussion was standing on a table near the middle of the room - which hadn't been there five minutes before - playing clumsy air guitar and singing.
"I am an anarchist, I am an Antichrist…"
"She always gets that round the wrong way… Just stop her before she gets onto the Manics, is all I ask. Or our old school song."
Fred shuddered. "Disinebrius!"
Chris looked around, realised where she was, turned red and scuttled to the side of the hall.
"Hey, you think you could do that on everyone?" Claire asked. "Actually, on second thoughts, don't."
For Neal had climbed onto Chris' vacated table, having imbibed quantities of punch.
"Hello, my name is Neal and I'm a sentimental twit
I was learning how to be a mage, at least until I quit
I went to University in order to meet chicks
Now I'm a page and all I do all day is fight with sticks! Whoa!"
This last as he fell off the table.
"Your words, right? Pass the pad - I've got one for Alanna."
Chris sketched a bow and did as she was told.
- ~~ Alanna climbs onto the table and sings.
"Oh, I am the Lioness and I don't like to sing
And I've been on errantry 'cos I don't like the king
If I don't slice your head off I will kill you with a spell
Because I'm the Lady Knight and I'm a sorceress as well!"
- ~~ She gets down. Jonathan gets up.
"Oh, my name is Jonathan and I am Tortall's king
I am the supreme ruler, I'm in charge of everything
I sometimes piss my friends off when I act like such a prig
And I can't get my crown on 'cos my head is far too big!"
The king did a quick tap-dance and jumped off the table.
Chris noticed Cleon steering Neal to a seat some yards away.
"Ooh! Ooh! Idea!"
- ~~ A sprig of Mandatory Mistletoe appears above Neal and Cleon.
Cleon flailed his arms frantically as he found himself being kissed by - or kissing - an equally wildly struggling Neal.
"Get off, get OFF!"
"Get off yourself, you stupid twit!"
They broke apart and faced off, glaring.
"Offspring of a syphilitic she-camel!"
"Half-brother of ten rancid crocodiles and a mangy goat!"
"You - you - you short-circuited electric toaster!"
Claire looked incredulously over Chris' shoulder to see what she had written.
Chris giggled. "That last one was mine. Actually, it all was. No-one in this world has that much imagination."
"What's mandatory mistletoe?"
"What did it look like? They sell it by mail-order in Witch Weekly
- livening up boring marriages, that sort of thing. The twins
told me about it." She chuckled suddenly. "I feel a pun coming
on."
- ~~ The twins' eyes dance.
"Now that is disgusting. Put them back and give me the
notepad."
- ~~ Another sprig appears over King Jonathan, who is standing next to
the Dowager Countess of Merrivale.
"Does Merrivale even exist?"
"It does now."
The Dowager Countess, grey-haired, stern-faced and dusted in lashings of powder, spluttered indecorously.
"Why - ! Young man, in my day people had more manners."
Red-faced, the king apologised and scurried back to his wife, in case of further incidents.
"Gah. Spoil my fun, why doesn't he."
- ~~ A sprig appears over Alanna, who is standing next to Gareth
of Naxen. The Elder.
"Why, Sir Alanna, I never knew you felt that way about me!" Duke Gareth grinned through his moustache, taking it in better part than the Dowager Countess.
"Not my fault. Blame them." Alanna jerked her chin in the direction of the whooping fan-authors.
"You are pawns for our amusement! Mwahahahaha!!!" Claire collapsed on the floor in renewed giggles.
Chris abandoned any idea of getting back to the spare rooms they'd commandeered in the pages' wing any time before dawn. This was just too much fun.
Some days later, the members of the hastily convened Special Royal Council Subcommittee on Fan-Author Emergencies sat around a large table in the Special Royal Council Chambers.
"So we're agreed," said King Jonathan. "We have to find some way to get rid of them soonest."
Chris and Claire were sitting quietly in a corner, listening. No-one paid them any attention, having learnt the folly of trying to confront them directly. Such attempts tended to result in impromptu song-and-dance recitals or a surfeit of bouncing ferrets.
"I have had a number of reports that villagers are afraid to come out of their houses because of Stormwings doing aerobatics overhead. If we don't put a stop to it before spring planting, who knows what it could do to the economy?" Duke Gareth added. Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Training for the pages and squires has been disrupted," put in Lord Wyldon. "Those strange children with broomsticks keep playing some sort of game over the practice ground."
"And that rabbit - or whatever it is. It's killing all the deer in the forest, and apparently no-one can get near it, not even Daine. And I expect you're all as sick as I am of eating venison every night." The king was answered by heartfelt murmurs of agreement.
"I for one am sick of tripping over bouncing ferrets and canaries every time I leave my rooms," said Alanna. "And all that singing - pah! It wouldn't be so bad if all their lines just scanned properly…"
"Or if anyone could sing in tune," came a mutter from Wyldon's vicinity.
"Well, who has an idea?"
Alanna looked around furtively. Good. The fan-authors weren't paying attention. Claire was busy turning Jonathan's crown into a hula-hoop, and Chris was talking to a palace cat. Presumably the fact that the cat could answer had something to do with the notepad.
"Want some sardines?"
"Ooh, these smell good! What are they?"
"Sort of little fish in a box. I don't like them myself, but my cat at home does."
"Purr purr."
"I have an idea that might work," Alanna said - quietly, so as not to attract unwanted attention. "The pad seems to work on a sympathetic principle - it knows how we act, so it can control us. But if we all start acting out of character, then maybe…Well, does anyone have any better ideas?"
"Dry up their ink," Gareth the Younger suggested.
"You want to take the chance that they don't have spare pencils in their pockets?"
"Well, how do you suggest we go about acting out of character?" asked the king, hanging his outsize crown on a hat-stand.
"Hm. Jon, you can turn into a proper tyrannical ruler - sack some villages, levy a poll tax…You lazy mages can all take up fencing, the knights can discover a passion for calligraphy, Wyldon can start a girls' self-defence class, I'll put flowers in my hair and start acting like a fluffhead…" Her invention ran down for the moment.
The king slapped the table. "Right, you heard the Champion. I'm sure you can all think of something out of the ordinary to do."
"If all else fails, you can just dance a jig or climb the curtain wall and sing a song," Alanna added with a grin.
Groans. "We've been doing that for weeks!"
"Ah, but was it voluntary? Jon, you should probably have the heralds make a proclamation at dinner - the more people in on this the better."
The next morning, Chris and Claire were leaning on the fence of the ersatz Quidditch pitch, making a few improvements to the game.
Fred Weasley, who had come down to join the younger wizards' Quidditch game - which appeared to have been going on-and-off since they'd arrived, although no-one quite knew what the score was - ducked and raised an arm to fend of the head of Margaret Thatcher, which was coming at him full-speed. George yelled as he failed to avoid Ronald Reagan. Neville, arms waving in triumph, dropped Ginger Spice's head through a goal-hoop.
A small, yellow, winged Colin Creevey shot past, jolting him out of his daydream.
Hearing a noise behind them, the fan-authors turned. Kel was standing there with two boys, one with preternaturally blond hair, and one with red. Cleon - and Joren???
Kel looked mutinous. Joren scowled. Cleon gave them both a shove in the back.
"Look - do you want to go on singing hoe-downs every morning at breakfast?" he hissed.
They sighed.
"You have no idea how much it pains us to do this."
"Really. No idea."
"Cleon, couldn't we think of something else out of character?"
"Look, I don't like this any better than you - " True. Very true.
Kel visibly screwed up her nerve, and Joren looked as if he had just discovered exactly what went in the stew at the pages' and squires' mess hall. They stepped closer to each other and began kissing with every appearance of passion.
"Noooooo! Not the OOC!"
"Curses! Foiled by a snog!"
The pad grew warm to the touch. Kel and Joren left, grimacing and wiping their mouths. Cleon followed. Chris' sigh of relief was echoed by Claire's - but too soon, for at that moment, Daine came racing across the courtyard, holding long skirts out of the snow and shrieking "Aaaargh! A spider, a spider!" The pad was now smoking gently.
"We'd better get out of here!" They left hurriedly, in the direction of the gardens. Where, instead of a secluded, empty corner, they found the Lioness, placidly doing embroidery. Sounds that were suspiciously similar to certain computer-noises emanated from the pad. A small smile crossed Alanna's face as she watched the two girls do a rapid 180 degree turn and run in the opposite direction. She hid the smile with a fan, and the notepad burped.
Hurrying past the practice yard on their way back to their rooms, Chris and Claire were confronted by the sight of the yard half full of mages in flapping robes clumsily working through basic sword drills. In the other half of the yard, Lord Wyldon was glumly showing a bevy of little girls the best way to break an attacker's arm.
Around the corner, they nearly tripped over a tin hip-bath which contained Gareth the Elder of Naxen, singing lustily. Outside the palace gates could be seen a smallish crowd, presumably from a sacked village, waving placards and shouting, "What do we want? Compensation! When do we want it? Now!"
The pad creaked, rattled, graunched and let off a whistling jet of steam. Finally their pens exploded in a shower of ink.
"Bugger! I liked this T-shirt!"
"Time to go home, then."
"Well, we knew they were going to think of acting OOC eventually. Everyone always does."
"Fun while it lasted though."
"Yeah. Here plot bunny, here plot bunny. Time to go home, baby. Here plot bunny."
The plot bunny hurtled out of the Royal Forest to land in Chris' arms.
Chris pulled her spare pencil out from behind her ear, and reached round
the bundle of white fur and fangs to write.
- ~~ A gate opens up between Tortall and home.
The gate's hinges creaked as she swung it open. Hah. Can't resist a pun, can it? As they stepped through, they could see the inhabitants of the palace lined up to see them off.
"Where shall we go next?"
"Dunno. The Enchanted Forest might be cool. Or we could really have fun with hobbits."
Perhaps it was the last vestige of the pad's influence, but Alanna felt a sudden urge to sing. Call it a farewell serenade, if you liked.
"Tortall is our land
And it's not your land
From the Drell Valley
To the Emerald Ocean
We don't belong to
Insane fan authors
This land belongs to you and me."
THE END