Chapter 18

Brownies.

It had been over a week since Peter had surrendered. He was starting to understand how serious it could be to overdo things, yet there was still a naughty spirit within him which made him want to push that little bit further. He knew his friends, and Hanny, were a little fed up with him over his bum abuse but he wanted to keep trying. He wondered what it would be like to try the Magic Underpants plus some of the potions Mary Hinge had mentioned. Having a self preservation streak he kept these thoughts to himself.

It was a sad morning as they left the little house in Both. Peter had come to His Senses and had finally come to his senses.

The Fairies held their final group hug at the now familiar trysting place at the bottom of the garden. The three lads had simpered internally as they watched Hanny, Mary Hinge, Camilla Toe, Ginger Spiderlegs, Sugar Plum Bottom and the cute Ann Jyner kiss and cuddle, pushing pendulous breasts into each other as they declared their eternal love and friendship. Each of the three lads fantasised about being naked in the midst of that crush of bodies, enjoying the ultimate pleasure.

“What the feck were you gawping at then?” asked Sugar Plum Bottom as the girls dispersed.

“Nothing!” said Steve, red faced in his raptures.

“Good,” said Sugar Plum Bottom, “because if you were porning away in your head I’ll cast a spell that will make you cry forever! Have you heard of the spell ‘Bobbited Knob’?”

Steve was mortified. He had heard tales of the wicked Fairies, the Asrai, who liked to play Bob-a-Nob week. They looked for naughty boys who just couldn’t keep their hands off their appendages then – slash it was gone.

Chastened thus, the lads said their goodbyes. Steve kept his eyes on the ground as he did not want to catch a glimpse of those ravenous curves, precipitating the demise of his manhood.

The quartet smooched their way out of Both, singing as they headed South and East. They needed to get out of the Land of Wails as quickly as possible. Peter had discovered a lot about himself and his relationship with Hanny over the past week. He knew he was deeply in love with her, though her feelings toward him were now less clear. She was looking after him as any good friend would. Did she desire him in the same way he lusted after those gorgeous blue eyes, white teeth and cascading auburn hair?

Blue Eyes.

Brownies.

They were waiting in the hills just outside of Both, their notepads and brown hats ready and waiting for a bit of scandal. Just make anything up and it will be believed.

‘Sore arsed Pixy in love quartet’.

‘Does Pixy love Goblin?’

‘Bad Boy Pixy and his Fairy Hanny’.

“No way will you say that!” declared Lord Chalfont as he cast a Brownie into the cells. “Leave Hanny out of this. Just get that Pixy!”

The travellers became aware that they were being shadowed by the Brownies. It was a free country, or it wanted to be anyway, and there is nothing in the rule book that forbids a group of nasty little Brownies trailling through the hills behind a Pixy, a Gnome, a Goblin and Fairy. Of course the Brownies had not seen Fairy Hannys’ rule book. And she was ready to use it!

They stopped for lunch at a charming little café in the Vale of Glam Organ where they drank Earl Grey Tea and Pimms to wash down their cucumber sandwiches. Except Greg of course who ate all the pies, washing them down with gallons of Latte. The Brownies slipped into the corner of the café, ordered a glass of water for four, declaring that they could each claim for it on separate expense accounts. They did not understand the bloodlust of the Tax Orcs, or they would not have undertaken such a risky financial faux pas. To a Tax Orc this was almost as bad as claiming travelling expenses for non-existent passengers, an offence that can lead to threats of violence and floods of tears in some cases; and being eaten.

Leaving the café Hanny informed them that it would not be long until they came to that bridge that had to be crossed when they come to it.

Yes I know that was a ham-fisted grammatical sentence she told them, but say it as it is, is what must it be. The lads were totally confused and demanded a lesson on adverbs and past participles, verbs, adjectives and the correct use of punctuation. Hanny said she could not be doing with this, gave them each a slap and moved on to explain her plan.

“That Bridge we will cross when we come to it, we have almost come to it!” she explained.

“It spans a ravine that is so deep and so wide that people think it is the deepest and widest ravine on the planet. Legend has it that the ravine was dug by hand by the Legendary Offal in an attempt to keep the Legendary Land of Wails away from the Legendary Everyone Else. This was a good plan for Everyone as it had the potential to save us all from the Banshees. However Offal got hacked off after a while, though not before he had produced a ravine lots of leagues long and a league wide!”

“How big is a league?” asked Greg.

Hanny decided to put it into terms simple enough for the gobshite Goblin to understand.

“Imagine getting a large Ogre to kick a football as far as possible. The distance travelled by the ball is about one league.”

“Is that a football league?” asked the Goblin.

“If the distance was halved would it be a football league division two?” asked Peter.

“When he had kicked the ball would the Ogre say ‘FIFA Fo Fum!’” asked Steve.

Hanny was not impressed by these poor wormhole infested quips. There followed three quick slaps and one punch to the head of the Goblin.

“Does anyone want any more?” asked the large breasted Fairy.

The three lads declined the offer, apologising for trying to bring some humour into the story. (It would make a change.) Hanny assured them that the story was already as funny as a marathon runner in an iron lung, giving each of them one more slap for completeness.

She explained that the bridge, which did lie over troubled water, was the only way out of the Land of Wails for about twenty leagues either way. She scowled at all three as she said this, daring them to try another pitiful joke based on ‘leagues’. None of them took the life-threatening challenge so she explained her plan, demonstrating she was definitely out of their league.

“Will that really work?” asked Steve.

“Trust me,” she said. “I have seen the Brownies in action when they report into Lord Chalfont and they are total morons. Most can’t spell, can’t read, and can’t write.”

“Yet they act as spies for Lord Chalfont?” queried Peter.

“Lord Chalfont indeed!” said the Fairy with so much intuition she nearly predicted the end of the book.

Offal’s ravine was going to work today. The Brownies would be kept in the Land of Wails allowing our sumptuous quartet a new rhythm in life. The travellers would cross that bridge when they came to it, leaving behind a group of Brownies and the whole kit and caboodle of clichés, so they say, behind them. They would wake to a new dawn and many a mickle would make a muckle.