Just when you thought it was safe to get notices again! We're back with a second episode of a somewhat modern spoof of our own beloved Dawn of the 4th Age rp, as it might have been...if Mandos had a trailer park, or Eonwe a mustang...nevermind...you've been warned :)
Lihan Taifun
MANWË'S ERRAND-BOY
“It's complicated,” Nienna explained to the garden gnome.
Complicated because Aulë was her cousin, sort of. Although no one could remember exactly how they were related.
Complicated because Námo, who ran the Halls of Mandos Trailer Park, was her brother.
Y'see, a long time ago Námo had had this bad-crazy tenant Melkor. Maybe “tenant” wasn't the right word; it was more like he was under house arrest here. After this Melkor convinced the parole board to release him (BAD idea, such a bad idea … but back to the story …) the trailer had smelled SO bad that Námo had just locked it up and left it. But then Aulë had been doing some repairs here at the park, and somehow it had ended up that Námo hired Aulë to clean up that old trailer. Probably Manwë had been involved in the decision, somehow. He usually was. Manwë was another “cousin” that no one could explain how he was related. As near as she could tell, Manwë was everybody's “cousin”. And what Manwë wanted usually happened. It wasn't as bad as that sounded. Manwë was a levelheaded guy, and his plans were nearly always good plans. Except pressuring the parole board to release Melkor that one time. She took another drag, and willed herself to forget that she herself had argued loudly in Melkor's favor at that hearing.
So Aulë had been cleaning up this trailer, which was really a haz-mat job! It must have been really potent stuff Melkor was cooking up, something that made meth look like instant mashed potatoes, in comparison. And all this going on right under the parole board's nose, too. The police, looking at the place afterwards, never found any traces they could take to a lab. Just stacks loose notes -- notes on odd pieces of paper, notes on pages of telephone books, notes scrawled on the wallpaper, even -- how in the name of Mandos did he get up there? -- notes scrawled on the ceiling. And the whole place reeked. Not just the ordinary reek of mildew and moldy towels and unwashed dishes and month-old trash and clogged plumbing. All that, triple-time, of course. But also a clinging, nauseatingly sweet chemical smell, which must have been old Melkor's secret recipe. "It was," she said wisely to the gnome, "the smell of those old pains that people cling to, rather than have to give them up and start anew."
Aulë had pulled out everything -- the furniture, the carpet, everything -- and hauled it down to the dump. A couple of his boys who had been helping him load the pickup had gotten sick, just from breathing the air in there, and the mold and all. But Aulë stuck with it. And he had scrubbed and chipped and bleached and sanded and painted, until the place looked pretty decent again. And then he decided he liked it so much, now that it was fixed up, that he moved right in himself. Spent more time here than he did at his regular place, and certainly more than he spent at Yavanna's.
That was about when Eönwë showed up. Not at the beginning, when it might have made a difference, no. He came roaring down the drive, rather faster than the posted 10 mph, in that red '67 mustang he is so proud of, spraying gravel from the tires on every curve, and the radio cranked up full, on some country western channel. And he swaggers up to the door, and pounds on it hard enough to leave a dent. And when Aulë opens the door, Eönwë puffs himself up, and says "Manwë wants you to bring him all of Melkor's notes. And all his samples."
Aulë, of course, says, "Too late. All those notes went down to the dump months ago. I got the whole place cleaned up, now. Look for yourself." And he looks at Eönwë shrewdly, and says, "Why does Manwë decide NOW that he wants them? And you know, and Manwë knows, that there never were any samples. The police were all over this place, and there never were any 'samples'."
Eönwë says, "You lie! You scum, you're just trying to hold out on Manwë ..."
And Aulë punches him, and Eönwë pulls a knife … "and why am I telling you this," Nienna asks the gnome. "You were here. You heard it all." She waves a hand dismissively. "Too much testosterone, if you ask me." But in the end Eönwë had stormed off again, empty-handed, and Eru Ilúvatar only knows what he told old Manwë when he got back! Or what Manwë thought, when his biggest bravo came home with his eye blackened.
> Next
Complicated because Aulë was her cousin, sort of. Although no one could remember exactly how they were related.
Complicated because Námo, who ran the Halls of Mandos Trailer Park, was her brother.
Y'see, a long time ago Námo had had this bad-crazy tenant Melkor. Maybe “tenant” wasn't the right word; it was more like he was under house arrest here. After this Melkor convinced the parole board to release him (BAD idea, such a bad idea … but back to the story …) the trailer had smelled SO bad that Námo had just locked it up and left it. But then Aulë had been doing some repairs here at the park, and somehow it had ended up that Námo hired Aulë to clean up that old trailer. Probably Manwë had been involved in the decision, somehow. He usually was. Manwë was another “cousin” that no one could explain how he was related. As near as she could tell, Manwë was everybody's “cousin”. And what Manwë wanted usually happened. It wasn't as bad as that sounded. Manwë was a levelheaded guy, and his plans were nearly always good plans. Except pressuring the parole board to release Melkor that one time. She took another drag, and willed herself to forget that she herself had argued loudly in Melkor's favor at that hearing.
So Aulë had been cleaning up this trailer, which was really a haz-mat job! It must have been really potent stuff Melkor was cooking up, something that made meth look like instant mashed potatoes, in comparison. And all this going on right under the parole board's nose, too. The police, looking at the place afterwards, never found any traces they could take to a lab. Just stacks loose notes -- notes on odd pieces of paper, notes on pages of telephone books, notes scrawled on the wallpaper, even -- how in the name of Mandos did he get up there? -- notes scrawled on the ceiling. And the whole place reeked. Not just the ordinary reek of mildew and moldy towels and unwashed dishes and month-old trash and clogged plumbing. All that, triple-time, of course. But also a clinging, nauseatingly sweet chemical smell, which must have been old Melkor's secret recipe. "It was," she said wisely to the gnome, "the smell of those old pains that people cling to, rather than have to give them up and start anew."
Aulë had pulled out everything -- the furniture, the carpet, everything -- and hauled it down to the dump. A couple of his boys who had been helping him load the pickup had gotten sick, just from breathing the air in there, and the mold and all. But Aulë stuck with it. And he had scrubbed and chipped and bleached and sanded and painted, until the place looked pretty decent again. And then he decided he liked it so much, now that it was fixed up, that he moved right in himself. Spent more time here than he did at his regular place, and certainly more than he spent at Yavanna's.
That was about when Eönwë showed up. Not at the beginning, when it might have made a difference, no. He came roaring down the drive, rather faster than the posted 10 mph, in that red '67 mustang he is so proud of, spraying gravel from the tires on every curve, and the radio cranked up full, on some country western channel. And he swaggers up to the door, and pounds on it hard enough to leave a dent. And when Aulë opens the door, Eönwë puffs himself up, and says "Manwë wants you to bring him all of Melkor's notes. And all his samples."
Aulë, of course, says, "Too late. All those notes went down to the dump months ago. I got the whole place cleaned up, now. Look for yourself." And he looks at Eönwë shrewdly, and says, "Why does Manwë decide NOW that he wants them? And you know, and Manwë knows, that there never were any samples. The police were all over this place, and there never were any 'samples'."
Eönwë says, "You lie! You scum, you're just trying to hold out on Manwë ..."
And Aulë punches him, and Eönwë pulls a knife … "and why am I telling you this," Nienna asks the gnome. "You were here. You heard it all." She waves a hand dismissively. "Too much testosterone, if you ask me." But in the end Eönwë had stormed off again, empty-handed, and Eru Ilúvatar only knows what he told old Manwë when he got back! Or what Manwë thought, when his biggest bravo came home with his eye blackened.
> Next