Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Part 9

Posted on Tuesday, 18-Aug-98

Author's Note: Okay-I would like to dedicate this chapter to me, because if it wasn't for me, then this chapter never would have been written! Hahahahaha! No, seriously-I would like to dedicate this chapter to Lise for being such a good amie.

I would also like to take this chance of apologizing in advance if any apology is necessary. It gets a bit graphic in places, but I don't think it's too graphic, and there is one naughty word, but not naughty enough to deserve a spanking, I think. In any case, Reader (and the rest of you silly sots reading this!), enjoy this chapter because this is my favorite part and if you don't like it, I might have to turn you into a newt!

The Tale of Sir Colonel

ir Colonel was pretty much on his own at this point in his journey. It was an awfully cold and rainy day, and he was soaked pretty close to the bone. His hair was pretty soggy, and he had this whole disagreeable feeling of wetness-he really wished he could find some Bits of Ivory at this point or at least a castle where he could dry off. He sighed as came to a thick part of brush. He pulled out his sword and started slashing the fauna that had grown particularly lush. Suddenly, up a large hill, he saw a castle . . . a castle with Bits of Ivory large above it! He took it as a sign from the Goddess above that he would find there some Bits, and his quest would be over. Quite excited, he ran up the hill and banged on the door.

"Open the door! Open the door!" *POUND! POUND! POUND!* "In the name of King Darcy, open the door!" he cried desperately. After a little more pounding, the door creaked as it opened, and since he had been leaning on the door, he dropped to the ground. He crawled a little ways inside the castle, and suddenly the door slammed shut behind him.

Suddenly, he heard some female voices call out, "Hello!" He turned his head to see several beautiful young ladies before him, all dressed in white gowns with their hair loosely hanging. He then saw a young woman holding a candle with her hair pulled back, also looking quite virginal and very captivating.

"Welcome, gentle Sir Knight," the seductive young woman said to him in a very soft and sweet voice. "Welcome to the Castle Admiration!"

The Colonel furrowed his brow, trying to recall the name. "The Castle Admiration?" he repeated.

"Yes," the girl replied. Her brow creased. "Oh, it's not a very good name, is it?" she said, apologizing to him for the name. "Oh, but we are nice and we will attend to your every, every need!"

The tranquil and serene surroundings made the Colonel quite sure about one thing. He asked, "You are the keepers of the Holy Bits of Ivory?"

The girl looked confused. "The what?"

The Colonel reiterated his first words. "The Bits of Ivory. They are here."

The girl shrugged. "Oh, but you are tired and you must rest awhile. Alice! Jimmy!"

Two equally beautiful young girls raced over to the brown-haired young woman who was obviously in some position of power. "Yes, O Nicole?"

"Prepare a bed for our guest."

The girls were overjoyed to be given the task, much to the Colonel's confusion. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Nicole waved her hand. "Away! Away, varletesses!" The girls obediently glided off. Nicole offered her hand to the Colonel and helped him rise, and after that she kept a firm grasp on his hand. "The beds here are warm and soft and very, very big!" she said, with an inviting tone in her voice that meant to seduce.

The Colonel was not wholly unaware of her meaning. "Well, look, I- I, uh-"

She gently interrupted him sweetly. "What is your name, handsome knight?" she asked, discreetly ogling him.

He looked down at the ground, his hands clasped on his shield. "'Sir Colonel Fitzwilliam . . . the Chaste'."

"Ah!" Nicole said with a smile. "Mine is 'Nicole'. Just 'Nicole'. Oh, but come," she said, grasping his hand a bit tighter and pulled him along towards the hall.

As they walked along, Sir Colonel tried to pull his arm away from her hand, trying to make her listen. "Look, please! In God's name, show me the Bits of Ivory!"

Nicole obviously did not understand him. "Oh, you have suffered much. You are delirious!"

Sir Colonel was not to be dissuaded. "No, look. I have seen it! It is here in this-"

Nicole was in possession of a broad knowledge of human nature, and knew what buttons to push. "Sir Colonel! You would not be so ungallant as to refuse our hospitality?"

He looked down, his gentlemanly nature at odds with itself. "Well, I- I, uh-"

Nicole took his arm again in this space of time and began to lead him down the hall, proceeding to tell him a little bit about the life at Castle Admiration.

"Oh, I am afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours. We are but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen-and-a-half, cut off in this castle with no one to protect us. Oh, it is a lonely life: bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear." She stopped to place the torch in a holder outside the door to a room, and the Colonel had a moment to wonder what he had gotten himself into.

"We are just not used to handsome knights. Nay, nay. Come. Come," she said, leading him into the room, and indicating a bed which was, as she promised, warm, soft, and very, very big. "You may lie here. Oh, but you are wounded!" she said, noticing some blood on his left hand. She grasped his hand, and began to gently stroke it.

He tried to take it back. "No, no. It's- it's nothing."

Nicole was insistent. "Oh, you must see the doctors immediately! No, no, please! Lie down," she said, placing her hands on his chest and forcing him to lie down. She then stood up, and clapped her hands several times, which brought forth two girls as equally young and as comely as Nicole.

One of the doctors, Doctor Lise, calmly spoke up. "Well, what seems to be the trouble?"

Sir Colonel was amazed. "They're doctors?!" he exclaimed.

Nicole looked away. "Uh, they . . . have a basic medical training, yes," she said swiftly.

"B- but-" he said, beginning to rise up when Nicole again restrained him, pushing him back onto the bed.

"Oh, come. Come. You must try to rest," she insisted to the man. Turning to the doctors, she said, "Doctor Lise! Doctor Cindy! Practice your art." And with those words, she quickly left the room.

"Try to relax," said Doctor Cindy soothingly as she and Doctor Lise bent over the bed, and started running their hands over his chest, taking away his sword and his shield. They started to run their hands from his chest area down towards the lower part of his torso, starting to pull up the end of his tunic when he quickly pushed the fabric back down.

"Are you sure that's absolutely necessary?" he asked in a slightly higher voice.

"We must examine you," insisted Dr. Lise, and their hands went back down to his tunic, pulling at his belt and making to pull down his pants.

With an alarmed whelp, he pushed away their hands and sat up. "There's nothing wrong with that!" he insisted.

"Please. We are doctors!" Dr. Lise insisted again, and their hand went back down in that area again. Before they could get their hands back down there again, he jumped up with a moan.

He began to gather his equipment, obviously preparing to leave. "Look!" he said, his voice showing clearly how jumpy and nervous he was. "This cannot be. I am sworn to chastity."

"Back to your bed! At once!" Dr. Cindy commanded, but Sir Colonel interrupted her.

"Torment me no longer. I have seen the Bits of Ivory!"

"There's no Bits here," Dr. Lise said clearly.

"I have seen them! I have seen them!" insisted the Colonel. He pulled up a curtain and walked through, continuing to talk. "I have seen-" Suddenly, he realized what surrounded him-scores of beautiful young women, just as Nicole had talked of!

"Hello," one said that was right behind him, taking a good look at his backside.

"Oh!" he said, whipping about. Then he walked about the room, trying to find a path out, as all of the curious and deadly attractive damsels eyed him and greeted him with hellos. He stumbled his way shyly through the room, and when he found a door, a quick young maiden jumped in and blocked his path.

"Nicole!" the Colonel cried accusingly.

She shook her head. "No, I am Nicole's identical twin sister, Aja."

"Oh, well, excuse me, I-" he began, trying to figure out a tactful way to demand the Bits from the charming maidens.

"Where are you going?" asked a concerned Aja.

"I seek the Holy Bits of Ivory! I have seen them, here in this castle!"

Aja thought for a moment, then began crying in a disappointed voice, "Oh, no. Oh, no! Bad, bad Nicole!"

"Well, what is it?" asked the Colonel.

"Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Nicole! She has been setting alight to our beacon, which, I have just remembered, is Bits of Ivory-shaped. It's not the first time we've had this problem," Aja declared with a sigh.

"They're not the real Bits?" asked a disbelieving Colonel.

But Aja was not really listening to him. She began to lead him back into the room with the other girls, talking as she led him along. "Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Nicole! Oh, she is a naughty person and she must pay the penalty, and here in Castle Admiration, we have but one punishment for setting alight the Bits of Ivory-shaped beacon: you must tie her down on a bed and spank her," said Aja forcefully to the Colonel, taking her right hand and slapping it dynamically against the flat palm of her left.

The girls were excited. "A spanking! A spanking!" they cried excitedly.

"You must spank her well," insisted Aja to the Colonel, "and after you have spanked her, you may deal with her as you like, and then . . . spank me!"

"And spank me!" cried a nearby girl named Laura, who was nearly knocking the Colonel over with her enthusiastic grabbing of his arm and jumping shakily up and down.

"And me!" cried Peg, who tried to outdo Laura by grabbing him by the end of his tunic while she was on her knees, to little success.

"And me!" cried Ewa, who began to simultaneously shake him by the shoulders and kiss him on the cheek.

"And me!" cried the rest of the crowd.

"Yes. Yes, you must give us all a good spanking!" insisted Aja, and the girls cried again happily. The Colonel was so amazed, he was grasping his shield protectively still, but he was interested.

"A spanking! A spanking! There is going to be a spanking tonight!" the girls squealed.

Aja continued with the description of this dire punishment. "And after the spanking . . ." she said, then leaned over and whispered some words into Sir Colonel's ear, which made him straighten up and his eyes widen in astonish. The girls squealed, obviously knowing what Aja said.

The Colonel looked about with a smile on his face, his eyebrows bouncing up and down as he spoke. "Well, I could stay a bit longer . . ." he decided with a grin, and the whole crowd of girls was shrieking with delight.

Suddenly, who would appear but Sir Knightley with a group of men! "Sir Colonel!" he cried, forcing his way through the women to his comrade.

"Oh, hello," said the Colonel, surprised by his friend's sudden appearance, but figuring there were more than enough girls to go around.

"Quick!" cried Knightley.

"What?" said the mildly confused Colonel.

"Quick!" cried Sir Knightley, trying to drag his friend along with him.

The Colonel fought him, trying to stay with the women. "Why?"

"You are in great peril!" declared Sir Knightley, still trying to pull the reluctant man along.

"No, he isn't!" cried an alarmed Aja, who saw clearly what the men were trying to do.

"Silence, foul temptress!" cried Knightley, brandishing his blade and pointing it as if to stab her. Sir Colonel's hand darted in and forced Knightley to pull it back.

"You know, she's got a point," he said.

"Come on! We will cover your escape!" cried Knightley, finally managing to drag Sir Colonel along with him.

"Look, I'm fine!" declared the Colonel, as eager to stay as he formally was to go.

"Come on!" cried Knightley, totally disregarding his friend's words.

"Sir Colonel!" pleaded the alarmed young girls, worried that they would end up losing their prize.

"No. Look, I can tackle this lot single-handed!" cried Sir Colonel, and Aja was quick to agree.

"Yes! Let him tackle us single-handed!" she cried, with the girls echoing her.

"No, Sir Colonel. Come on!" said Knightley, offhandedly.

"No! Really! Honestly, I can cope. I can handle this lot easily," insisted Sir Colonel.

"Oh, yes. Let him handle us easily!" begged Aja, with the girls mimicking her.

"No. Quick! Quick!" asserted Knightley.

"Please! I can defeat them! There's only a hundred-and-fifty of them!" proclaimed the Colonel.

"Yes! Yes, he will beat us easily! We haven't a chance!" cried the girls. However, Knightley managed to drag the unwilling man along, and the door slammed, and the girls stopped, greatly frustrated.

"Oh, shit!" cried Aja, and the whole group began to curse fiercely.

Outside, Sir Knightley began to try and console the still-chaste and extremely disappointed Sir Colonel. "We were in the nick of time. You were in great peril."

"I don't think I was," sulked Sir Colonel in a very child-like manner.

"Yes, you were. You were in terrible peril," con-tended Sir Knightley.

"Look, let me go back in there and face the peril," requested the Colonel earnestly.

"No, it's too perilous," insisted Knightley.

"Look, it's my duty as a knight to sample as much peril as I can!" hysterically cried the Colonel.

"No, we've got to find the Holy Bits of Ivory. Come on!" cried Sir Knightley, and they continued along.

"Oh, let me have just a little bit of peril?" begged a desperate Colonel.

"No. It's unhealthy."

Sir Colonel sulkily accused, "I bet you're gay!"

"No, I'm not," said the gruff Knightley, and they continued along on in their quest.

Part 10

Posted on Monday, 24-Aug-98

Author's Note: Thanks to Katt and Meesh for Business in London, for if it was not written, I would not be able to plagiarize it so easily.

Narrative Interlude

Sir Knightley had saved Sir Colonel from almost certain temptation, but they were still no nearer the Bits. Meanwhile, King Darcy and Sir Henry, not more than a Navy man's flight away, had discovered something. Oh, that's an unladen Naval Lieutenant's flight, obviously. I mean, they were more than two laden Navy Admirals' flights away-four, really, if they had a coconut on a line between them. I mean, if the men were walking and dragging-Oh, anyway. On to scene twenty four, which is a smashing scene with some lovely acting, in which Darcy discovers a vital clue, and it's just really extra nifty-spiffy!

And so, as Knightley and the Colonel were united in their search, obviously King Darcy and Sir Henry were alone together. Now, I'm not sure but isn't "alone together" a bit of an oxymoron? Well, it does sound pretty good, eh what? Well, in any case Darcy and Henry were together riding about, and as Mr. Narrative-Interlude-Reader, whose full name is Marius Nathaniel-Daniel Fitzwilliam Darcy Jean-Paul-Pierre-Prouvaire-Voltaire Michelle (ma belle) Arthur Peuty Cromwell Wellesley Napoleon Bonepart Alexander-the-Great George Gordon Noel Coward Byron (6th Baron Byron of Rochdale) Theodore Pompadour Singapore Biggus Dickus Wolfgangus Amadeus Johannes Sebastian Bach Ludwig van Kenneth Charles Branagh Frederick-Benedick "Frits" Grantaire-Combeferre-Montparnasse (pronounced Raymond Luxury-Yacht), said, they found a vital clue at the hut of this old man.

King Darcy and Sir Henry sat about a fire with a person named Old Man who was talking with them in his home that resembled greatly the house of Yoda, as Frank Churchill could tell you any day. However, even though both Yoda and Mr. Man were old and both very giggly and wrinkly . . . hmm . . . I wonder if they were related . . .

"Do I have to warn you about getting too silly again? Besides, I don't think Yoda would take it too kindly if you cast aspersions upon his mother's or his father's chastity-you've seen how he can use the Force!"

Right, bud! For once, Colonel, you're acting quite sensibly! I see you've taken my advice...

"Well . . . *hiccup!*"

All right . . . let's just move along . . .

Then, the old man continued to laugh at them, as they tried to question him. "Heh, hee ha ha hee hee! Hee hee hee ha ha ha . . ."

Darcy asked cunningly, "And this enchanter of whom you speak, he has seen the Bits of Ivory?"

"Ha ha ha ha! Heh, hee ha ha hee! Ha hee ha! Ha ha ha ha . . ." said Mr. Man with a laugh.

Darcy continued to question the silly man. "Where does he live?"

"Heh heh heh heh . . ." replied the Man.

Darcy was stern. "Old man, where does he live?"

"Hee ha ha ha. The Enchanter knows of a cave, a cave which no man has entered," said the man cryptically.

"And the Bits;-the Bits are there?"

"There is much danger, for beyond the cave lies the Gorge of Eternal Peril, which no man has ever crossed," continued the wily old humorist.

"But the Bits! Where are the Bits?!?" asked Darcy, who was quite stymied.

"Seek you the Bridge of Death," recommended the feisty Man.

"The Bridge of Death . . . which leads to the Bits?"

He was indeed a slippery little eel, for he continued only to say, "Heh, hee hee hee hee! Ha ha ha ha ha! Hee ha ha . . ." and then, suddenly he disappeared into thin air, along with the house around the two men! They were both very stunned, but reluctantly decided that they might as well continue along.

"Fat lot of good that old geezer did us!" whined Darcy.

In any case, they continued along the path, which took them through the wild Wood of Lyme Soap. They cautiously journeyed along, until suddenly, when they were deep in the wood, a large figure appeared in front of them, with many men who gathered around the doomed King Darcy's party, completely surrounding them! Bingley was so stunned he dropped the coconuts, and the dramatic crash of surprise was cued. *CRASH!*

The large man who was cloaked in a dark cape that shadowed his face did not stay silent. "Fwood! Fwood!" This caused all of the people surrounded him to call out the words "Fwood! Fwood! Fwood!"

Something about this whole situation did seem a bit ridiculous to him, but it also seemed pretty far-out and creepy. "Who are you?" he asked the man, not sure if this wasn't just another weird dream of his.

The large man dashed off his cloak, and it was revealed to be the terrifying Henry Crawford! "We are the Rakes Who Say . . . 'Fwood!'" This caused a few of the little men to say "Fwood!" excitedly, but Crawford decisively hushed them.

Darcy was horrified . . . he had heard many tales of this rabid band and their evil deeds . . . and that word, Fwood! It was really starting to bug him! Then he thought for a moment and said irritably, "No! Henry Crawford, there's no way you can be a Rake Who Says 'Fwood,' you've never met me before in my life! And besides, I never signed a letter with 'Fwood'-in the book it says quite plainly 'FITZWILLIAM DARCY'. Why did those silly Businesswomen have to meddle with me?!?"

"Listen, Darcy love," said Henry knowledgeably, "do you think I particularly like this job? I was only put in here for the later barouche joke; I'd rather be hanging out at the Castle Admiration but no, Rachel insisted on putting me here. Considering the fact that she's got a few stories with me that she's considering and I do need a job, I figured it'd be prudent to do what she says and do my duty, keeping myself in favor for future references in the process! Besides, Darcy old bean, I think it would be prudent if you stuck to the script. With all of the oddness going on in here, I think me saying 'Fwood' is hardly dramatic. If you don't stick to your lines, Rachel just might kill you off, anyway! Remember, your cousin Sir Galahad the Colonel died in the movie and you know she screams at that part every time . . . maybe she'll kill you off instead!"

Darcy sighed. "No way, dude! For one, I am the hero so I have special hero protection!-a sub-point to this is that I am the hero of the Republic and there's no way the girls would stand for me being killed off. Secondly, she always hated Sir Bedevere in the movie and it's Sir Henry over here who took that role . . . so I think he's in considerably more danger than moi!"

Henry jumped up. "No, Rachel wouldn't kill me because I am Henry Tilney, she likes my obsession with Muslin and Lise also likes me too-Rachel won't kill me off because Lise wouldn't be too pleased, and they've got Admiration together, y'know. If anyone dies, it's Sir Knightley! Remember how she hates Emma!-and I know she thinks 'The Tale of Sir Lancelot' to be the stupidest part of the whole movie."

HC sighed. "Aren't you up on it, boy? Jeremy Northam is Sir Knightley so she's not going to kill such a looker, and besides, she likes Emma now-gosh, you're not very keen, are you?" sighed the Knight. "If anyone dies, it's going to be Edward-she might think he's OK and everything, but he is a bit of a retard at times with all of his stuttering."

Darcy sighed. "Of course you divvy, he's the Sir Robin clone and Sir Edward was the first one to kick the bucket for not knowing the capital of Assyria."

HC sighed elegantly. "Well, boys, can we just continue with the scene?" He then whispered to them, "Frankly, I think she's going to bring in Edmund Bertram just for the fun of killing him!" They all laughed knowingly, and the scene continued as scripted.

"No! Not the Rakes Who Say 'Fwood'!" cried an alarmed Darcy.

"The same!" acknowledged Henry Crawford with a theatrical nod.

"Who are they?" asked Sir Henry to Darcy.

"We are the keepers of the sacred words: 'Fwood,' 'Fw Dry,' and who could forget 'Fw Wet'?"

"Fw Wet!" cried out a random Knight.

"Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!" whispered Darcy to Sir Henry.

"The Rakes Who Say 'Fwood' demand a sacrifice!" cried HC, who was a beautiful reader and was very theatrical.

Darcy was tired of dealing with all of these country bumpkins. "Rakes of Fwood, we are but simple travelers who seek the enchanter who lives beyond these woods."

Henry Crawford was relentless. "Fwood!" This started up all of the other Rakes saying "Fwood!" and it started to give Darcy quite a migraine.

"Ouch! Shut up!"

"We shall say 'fwood' again to you if you do not appease us!" cried Crawford, who was performing his part as bad guy with ease.

Darcy was tired of this. After all, why did he have 10,000 a year if it wasn't to shut up arrogant knaves? "Well, what is it you want?"

"We want . . . a barouche!" A dramatic chord punctured his words to a very nice result.

"A what?" asked Darcy, confused.

They thought he was just pretending ignorance. "Fwood! Fwood! Fwood!"

"Ow! Oh! Knock it off already!" Darcy pleaded. "Please! Please! No more! We will find you a barouche."

"You must return here with a barouche, or else, you will never pass through this wood . . . alive," said Henry, finalizing the deal.

"O Rakes of Fwood, you are as just and fair as evil rogues could be, and we will return with a barouche."

"One that can carry a harp with ease," said Henry Crawford.

"Of course," agreed Darcy, slightly bewildered.

"And one that is hung well! although I dare say Colonel Brandon shall find fault with it-the soddy rheumatic old fogey," shouted a Rake named Willoughby from the background.

"Yes," said Darcy, a little bewildered by these strange men.

"Now. . . go!" commanded Crawford, and so Darcy went off to find a barouche.

Part 11

Posted on Wednesday, 02-Sep-98

At least, I think this is Part 11. In any case, thanks for waiting and sorry this hasn't been posted before--this chapter is dedicated especially to Bill for being so helpful with it! Thanks, Billy Boy, and I hope you enjoy a glass of Zinfandel with it! ;)

The Tale of Sir Knightley

Somehow for some strange reason, Sir Knightley and Sir Colonel were together only for a short time before re-splitting up again. It wasn't because he disliked Sir Colonel, even though he had listened to that young man curse him as they rode away from the Castle Admiration, but he wanted to discover the Bits on his own, just to prove to himself and everyone else that he was capable. He wanted all the glory and all of the rewards to himself-he wondered if he could have all of the girls chasing him like Sir Colonel, maybe, or perhaps he could earn respect like King Darcy.

In any case, it just so happened that Sir Knightley was passing through the land of Hertfordshire, known not only for its lively girls and officers, but also for its unfashionable society and its swampy lands. In this land, there was the Castle Longbourne, where today one of its resident young maidens, Miss Mary Bennet, was to wed a Mr. William Collins, her cousin and the heir to the Castle. This had all come about by the sheer will power and force of the castle's energetic mistress, Mrs. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet had dedicated herself to marrying all of her daughters off to wealthy young men, and she had succeeded well so far-Elizabeth was Darcy's Queen, Jane was married to Bingley, and Lydia . . . well, she was respectably married, which was more than shrewd people would have expected from such a flighty chit as Lydia. So, on this most joyous day for Mrs. Bennet when she ridding herself of her silly bluestocking daughter, she had decided she might as well give Mary a little advise before she flung her out into the world-not that she particularly cared what happened to her middle daughter now that she would be married, but a nice chat was in order before the ceremonies.

"One day, girl, all this will be yours!" said Mrs. Bennet cheerfully to her middle daughter who was reading a book as her younger sister Kitty, who was coughing quite violently, did her hair.

"What, the curtains?" asked Mary loosely.

"No. Not the curtains, girl! All that you can see, stretched out over the hills and valleys of this land! This will be your kingdom, Mary!" she cried, then turning to her other daughter. "Oh, keep from coughing so, Kitty! For Heaven's sake, have a little compassion on my poor nerves!"

"But Mother!-" both girls cried at the same time.

"I've got spots all over my face! Look!" cried Kitty, pointing to her face, which was indeed covered by many little red welts. "I think I've caught something!"

"Nonsense, girl! You haven't been using your Gowland's lotion, have you? Lydia used it every day and look what happened to her-married at 15 and quite a spotless face! And please, stop coughing for your own amusement! Oh, no one knows what I suffer!"

"These times of trial are meant to test our fortitude!" moralized Mary. "One coughs when one must, does not one?"

Mrs. Bennet shook her finger at her daughter. "Now Mary, I will suffer you not to go on in that wild manner that you do at home! You are marrying a wealthy husband and getting Longbourne!"

"B- b- but Mother, I don't want any of that."

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "Listen, Mary. Your father's brother's uncle's cousin's roommate built this kingdom from nothing. When he started here, all that was here was swamp. Other kings said he was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but he built it all the same, just to show 'em. It sank into the swamp. So, he built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So, he built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp, but the fourth one . . . stayed up! And that's what you're gonna get, girl: the strongest castle in these islands!"

"But I don't want any of that!" whined Mary most philosophically. "I'd rather-"

"Rather what?!" screeched Mrs. Bennet.

"I'd rather . . . just . . . sing!" began Mary, who leapt over to the pianoforte and began to accompany herself on it. However, Mrs. Bennet prevented her.

"Stop that! Stop that!" wailed Mrs. Bennet. "You're not going into a song while I'm here-you might as well play a jig, Mary, as no one wants you concertos here! Now listen, girl. In twenty minutes, you're getting married to a man who will one day own some of the biggest tracts of open swamp land in Hertfordshire, and then I will never be thrown into the hedges before your father is cold in his grave!" She pulled out a convenient hanky and blew her nose at the thought of Mr. Bennet's future death.

"B- but I don't want land!" whined Mary.

"Listen, Kitty,-"

"Mary," corrected the girl.

"Mary-we live in a bloody swamp. We need all the land we can hang on to!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.

"But- but I don't like him," declared Mary.

"Don't like him?!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet violently. "What's wrong with him?! He's intelligent. He's rich. He's got expectations on huge tracts of land!"

"I know, but I want the- the man that I marry to have . . . a certain . . . special . . . something!" began Mary as she prepared to sing when Mrs. Bennet quickly interrupted her.

"Cut that out! Cut that out! Look, you're marrying Mr. Collins, so you'd better get used to the idea!" cried Mrs. Bennet, then pulling Kitty with her as she left Mary alone in the room.

Mary quickly dashed over to her table and wrote out a quick note that she attached to an arrow. She pulled out her bow and tried to fire it, the arrow hitting several times the stone wall. "I am not Emma-why must I be forced to silly things like this . . .?" she pondered, and luckily after a few more tries the arrow made it out the window and she was allowed to turn back to more worldly concerns.

It was just at this point when Sir Knightley was passing by Longbourne the castle with his trusty servant William Coxe.

"Well taken, Coxe!" cried Knightley.

"Thank you, sir! Most kind," said Coxe easily, drumming his coconuts wildly as Knightley jumped from stone to stone over the pond.

"And again!" cried Knightley gaily. "Over we go! Good. Steady! And now, the big one! Uuh! Come on, Coxe!"

Suddenly, an arrow sailed down and hit Coxe straight in the chest. He dropped to the ground. "Message for you, sir!" called the fallen Coxe.

Knightley ran to him. "Coxe! Coxe!-speak to me!" He then looked at the arrow that had slain his loyal Coxe, and said quite solemnly, "Point well taken, Coxe!" Then, he noticed it had a note attached to it. He quickly opened it and began to read aloud, "'To whoever finds this note: I have been imprisoned by my mother, who wishes me to marry against my will. Please, please, please come and rescue me. I am in the Tall Tower of Longbourne Castle.' At last! A call! A cry of distress! This could be the sign that leads us to the Holy Bits of Ivory!" cried Knightley excitedly, then turned to the corpse. "Brave, brave Coxe, you shall not have died in vain!"

The corpse raised its head. "Uh, I'm- I'm not quite dead, sir."

"Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!" said Knightley kindly. "Do not worry, I will send help for you-"

"I- I- I think I c- I could pull through, sir!" said Coxe cheerfully.

"Oh, I see," said Knightley, who was a bit tired of this conversation and wanted to go about this daring and very Knightly rescue on his own.

"Actually, I think I'm all right to come with you, sir-" said Coxe, getting ready to rise and follow his master along when Sir Knightley, getting ready to leave, held out his hand to detain him.

"No, no, sweet Coxe! Stay here! I will send help as soon as I have accomplished a daring and heroic rescue in my own particular . . ." He searched for the perfect word, tapping his finger on his chin in a very adorable way that would make you giggle with great giddiness if you could see it.

"Idiom, sir?" supplied Coxe.

"Idiom!" cried Knightley, savoring the sound of it.

"No, I feel fine, actually, sir," said Coxe as he tried to assure his master of his ability to continue along with him, while Knightley started to dash off.

"Farewell, sweet Coxe!" cried Knightley, running toward the castle, leaving Coxe all alone.

"I'll, um- I'll just stay here, then. Shall I, sir? Yeah."

Meanwhile, in the Castle everything was perfect. There was lots of dancing and drinking, while the groom stood in a corner and kept talking about his former patroness the great, late Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his even more wonderful patroness, the wonderful Miss Anne de Bourgh, who managed to surpass her saintly mother. The whole mood was disturbed when Sir Knightley ran in, and bumped into Mr. Collins.

"Excuse me, sir!" said the knightly Knightley to Collins. "Can you tell me which way to the tall tower? I mean to save the young girl who is being forced to marry against her will to some villainous rogue."

Collins' goggle eyes went even more goggly. "Why, Miss Bennet is my bride, sir! I might be a big fat toad, but I am not vicious!"

Knightley gave him an odd look. "Well, she does not want to marry you, sir!"

Mr. Collins decided that Knightley looked very fierce, and he remembered how little he cared for Miss Bennet in any case. "Well, then excuse me, sir-the door to your left. Good luck!" He then ran off screaming, and Knightley took a moment to roll his eyes before continuing on.

He ran though a bunch of dancers, apologizing right and left as he ran along, finally making it up to the room, where he quickly fell to his knees to humble himself before the girl. "O fair one, behold your humble servant, Sir Knightley of Pemberley, formerly of Donwell Abbey. I have come to take y-"

"You got my note!" Mary exclaimed, causing him to look up at the plain girl in glasses.

Knightley, while being a very knightly person, was not exactly expecting such a girl as Mary Bennet. "Uh, well, I- I got a- a note."

"You've come to rescue me!" cried Mary pleasantly. "I knew someone would. I knew that somewhere out there, . . . there must be . . . someone . . ." she cried, starting to break into song.

Out of nowhere came Mrs. Bennet. "Stop that! Stop that! Stop it! Stop it!" she cried to Mary, too nervous to listen to her daughter's singing. "Who are you?" she said, turning to Knightley.

"Uh, I am Sir Knightley, ma'am," he said, feeling terribly awkward.

Mrs. Bennet was outraged. "Was it you who scared off Mr. Collins?"

"Uh... Oh, yes. Sorry," he said, apologizing.

Mrs. Bennet was very upset. "That was the bridegroom! We were to have a wedding today, and now look! No groom! Oh, my daughters will now never marry and after Mr. Bennet dies we were be turned out in the hedgerows before he is cold in his grave!" she said, fluttering her hankie and making a big show of misery.

"Well, I'm awfully sorry," Knightley said, feeling a bit bad.

"That will not help matters! Now there will be no wedding and Mary has lost her only chance at marriage and Kitty will probably never marry either! Oh, what a miserable business!" she cried with more moaning.

"Well, I can explain," Knightley said kindly. "I was in the forest, um, riding north from Pemberley, when I got this note, you see-"

Mrs. Bennet noticed the name-dropping. "Pemberley? Are you from Pemberley? My daughter is the wife of King Darcy!"

"Uh, I am a Knight of King Darcy, ma'am, and I have an estate named Donwell Abbey in the county of Surrey."

Mrs. Bennet knew a rich man when she saw one. "Very nice county, Surrey. I believe it is the Garden of England."

"Is it? I have never heard Surrey called the Garden of England;-many counties lay claim to the title in any case," said Knightley, not sure where this woman was going, but knew that he did not like it.

"Would you, uh, like to come and have some refreshment?" asked Mrs. Bennet kindly.

"Well, that- that's, uh, awfully nice of you, I am a bit thirsty . . ." said Knightley, and Mrs. Bennet quickly took his arm as he continued to apologize.

". . . I'm afraid when I'm in this idiom, I sometimes get a bit, uh, sort of carried away."

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Mrs. Bennet easily, a plan forming in her mind. She took him downstairs, where everyone looked at him.

"This is Sir Knightley from the Court of Pemberley, a very brave and influential knight, and my special guest here today!" announced Mrs. Bennet to the crowd.

"You got rid of Mr. Collins! We love you!" the crowd cried. They all cheered him enthusiastically.

"We are here today to witness the union of two young people in the joyful bond of the holy wedlock," continued Mrs. Bennet. "Unfortunately, one of them, Mr. Collins, has just run away."

There was another loud cheer at the confirmation of this, and a few whispers and jokes about how it was really Mary Bennet who had scared him away with her singing.

"Well," continued Mrs. Bennet, "while my daughter surely regrets losing Mr. Collins, she looks forward to the merger-er, the union between herself and the brave, but dangerous, Sir Knightley of Pemberley-"

"What?!?" exclaimed Knightley, completely taken aback by this announcement.

Out of nowhere came Mary. "I shall entertain you all!" she cried, and began to sing.

The crowd began screaming. "Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit!" they cried, and the whole room was in a bit of confusion as they all searched for earplugs and tried to keep the dogs from howling as she sang.

Knightley saw his chance as Coxe came up and called to him. "Sir Knightley! Come this way!" he shouted, gesturing wildly through the confusion.

Knightley then began to push through the crowd, and he quickly mounted his horse before Mrs. Bennet could stop him, making a decidedly dashing and heroic escape.

Part 12

Posted on Friday, 11-Sep-98

Author's Note: Muh-wah-hah-hah! I'm ba-ack! I'm not sure whether this is very funny, but it darn well tries to be! I hope y'all enjoy it, and I would first like to warn you all that there is a word or two you might find offensive--forgive me, I'm just a silly little thing! mean no harm! This chapter is dedicated to the girl who wanted the Lumberjack Song--it took a while, but you got it! :)

Meanwhile, while Knightley was adventuring, King Darcy and Sir Henry were looking for a barouche dealer. It was tough work as he searched all of the stands-nothing seemed to be working. Suddenly, they came upon a little settlement and saw a young woman kneeling in front of her house, who appeared to be tending a small garden of hers. She was a most comely and fair maid, who was dressed just like Cinderella.

"Young girl!" Darcy cried, riding up to her. She stood up, and looked at him. He continued with, "Is there anywhere in this town where we could buy a barouche?"

The young girl looked about herself. "Who sent you?" she demanded.

"The Rakes who say 'Fwood'," Darcy said casually.

The girl was shocked at his admission! "Aggh! No, never! We have no barouches here!"

Darcy rightly sensed she knew more than she said. "If you do not tell us where we can buy a barouche, my friend and I will say . . . we will say . . . 'fwood'!"

"Aggh! Do your worst!" she dared him most daringly.

"Very well!" said a pert Darcy. "If you refuse to help us willingly . . . fwood!"

"No! Never! No barouches!"

"Fwood!"

"Food!" cried Sir Henry.

"No, no, no, no, it's-"

"Food!"

"No, it's not that. It's 'fwood'!"

"Food!" attempted Henry.

"No, no . . . 'fwood'! You're not doing it properly-'fwood'!"

"Fwood?"

"Yes! You've got it!"

Happily, both men began to yell "Fwood!" at the girl, who began to sink to the ground.

After a while, a man on a horse looked down at them. "Are you saying 'fwood' to that young girl?" he demanded of them.

Darcy began to feel a bit silly. "Erm, . . . yes."

The man sighed. "Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can say 'fwood' at will to young girls! There is a pestilence upon this land. Nothing is sacred. Even those who sell and bargain used barouches at excellent prices are under considerable economic stress at this period in history-can't afford more than one carriage on the income, by average!"

Darcy's ears pricked up at the word 'barouche'-"Did you say 'barouches'?"

The man also brightened at the word. "Yes! Barouches are my trade! I am a used barouche seller-my name is John Thorpe, Seller of Quality Used Barouches. I bargain and sell used barouches! Look at the model I am on now-it's no tittuppy little thing, it's as solid as a rock. Neatest little buggy in all of England!" he boasted.

"Fwood!" cried Henry, who had no use for barouches and preferred to spend his money and his time on muslins. Perhaps they could scare the buggy out from under him.

"No, no! No no no!" cried Darcy to his comrade, and then turned back to Thorpe, preparing to bargain with him.

After a while of bargaining, Thorpe and he finally agreed on a price and the barouche was theirs. They quickly loaded it up and went back to where they had first seen the Rakes who say Fwood.

When they arrived, the Rakes began to examine the barouche, and Darcy ventured to ask timidly a question.

"O Rakes of Fwood, we have brought you your barouche. May we go now?"

HC was holding out his hands, measuring the dimensions of the vehicle. "It is a good barouche. I like the nice little molding on the sides particularly . . . and it is hung very well . . . but there is one small problem."

"What is that?" asked Darcy, concerned.

"We are now . . . no longer the Rakes Who Say 'Fwood'!" said Henry Crawford melodramatically.

"Fwood! Fwood!" cried the Rakes, but Henry shushed them.

"We are now the Rakes Who Say 'Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoop-boing-goodem-zoo-owli-zhiv'!" cried Henry proudly. "Therefore, we must give you a test!"

"What is this test, O Rakes of- Rakes who till recently said 'fwood'?"

"Firstly, you must find... another barouche!" said Henry.

"Not another barouche!" cried Darcy, dismayed.

"Then, when you have found the barouche, you must place it here beside this barouche, because we're planning on racing barouches to earn a little money-it's a rough life being a villain!" declared Henry with a sigh.

"Races! Races! Barouche races! Fwood! Fwood! Fwood!" declared the various Rakes.

"Then, when you have found the barouche, you must recite Shakespeare's Sonnet #116, read a scene to my dearest Fanny from Henry VIII-the one with that very fine speech by Cardinal Woolsey, and then you must dance a reel!"

"A reel! A reel!" cried the excited Rakes.

Darcy was tired of their irrational demands. "We shall do no such thing!"

"Oh, please!" asked Henry.

"Dance a reel with all of you? It would be far too disagreeable!-you are tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me!"

"Aaaaugh! Aaaugh!" screamed the Rakes, putting their hands over their ears.

"Augh! Ohh! Don't say that word!" cried Henry.

"What word?" asked Darcy.

"I cannot tell, suffice to say that the word is one of the words the Rakes of Fwood cannot hear!"

"How can we not say the word if you don't tell us what it is?"

"You said the word again!"

"What, 'is'?"

"No, not 'is'. You wouldn't get vary far in life not saying 'is'."

"My liege, it's Sir Edward!" interrupted Sir Henry, who found the whole conversation 'nice'. They all turned, and indeed, Sir Edward was riding up with his minstrels following close behind, who were continuing to tease him about what happened between him and the Three-Headed Knight.

"He is packing it in and packing it up
And sneaking away and buggering up
And chickening out and pissing off home,
Yes, bravely he is throwing in the sponge!"

"Sir Edward!" cried Darcy, happy to see his Knight.

"My liege! It's good to see you!" cried Edward, happy to have an opportunity to shut up his minstrels.

"Now he's said the word!" cried HC, pointing at Edward.

"Surely you've not given up your quest for the Holy Bits of Ivory?"

"He is sneaking away and buggering up-" started the minstrels, but Edward quickly cut them off.

"Shut up!" he strictly said to them. Then, he turned back to Darcy with a smile. "No, no. No. Far from it."

"He said the word again!" cried Henry, as all of his Rakes and himself rolling on the ground, moaning whenever the particular word was spoken.

"I was looking for it . . . uh, here- here in this forest!" said Edward, a bit nervous-sounding.

"No, it is far from this place," mused Darcy.

"Aaaaugh! Stop saying the word! The word . . ." moaned Henry feebly.

"Oh, stop it!" cried Darcy, turning to the moaning Crawford.

Henry sighed at this, and stopped moaning. He went up to Darcy, and stared at him hard. REALLY hard. "Geez, buddy, you could be a little nicer, you know! This is a really stupid scene-I mean, I've said 'the word' about 1,000 times before-talk about inaccuracy!"

He sighed, turning away. "I didn't want to be a Rake anyway. I wanted to be . . . a lumberjack!" His eyes widened, taking on an inspirational aspect. "Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia . . . The Fir! The Larch! The Redwood! The mighty Scots Pine! The plucky little Aspen! The great limping rude tree of Nigeria! With my best gal by my side, we'd sing, SING . . ." Suddenly, out of nowhere appeared a bunch of men in very odd red uniforms with big furry hats, accompanied by Marie L, whose skirt and shirt were a bit torn, as she and Xenia had been fighting in the corner over who got to accompany Henry. In any case, Henry began to sing, SING.

"Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I work all day!"

The Mounties followed up with:

"He's a lumberjack, and he's okay
He sleeps all night and he works all day"

Henry:

I cut down trees, I eat my lunch
I go to the lavatory
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea!

Mounties:

He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch
He goes to the lavatory
On Wednesdays he goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea!

All:

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay
He sleeps all night and he works all day

Henry:

I cut down trees, I skip and jump
I like to press wild flowers
I put on women's clothing
And hang around in bars!

Mounties:

He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps
He likes to press wild flowers
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around in bars?!

There was a brief, confused pause for a moment. Tension crackled in the air, but the Mounties continued.

All:

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay
He sleeps all night and he works all day

Henry:

I cut down trees, I wear high heels
Suspenders and a bra
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa!

Mounties:

He cuts down trees, he wears... high heels?
Suspenders . . . and a bra?!

They immediately stopped singing, and gave Henry some strange looks. Their words were filled with outrage.

"Wants to be a girlie?!"

"Poofter! Bloody poofter!"

"Pinko commie fairy faggot . . ."

Marie was the most outraged. "Oh, Henry! And I thought you were so RUGGED!!" She immediately slapped him, and ran off to find Mr. Yates. He might be silly, but at least he's not a cross-dresser! she thought to herself.

However, the Mounties became contrite.

"He's a lumberjack, and he's okay
He sleeps all night and he works all day
He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay . . .
Sleeps all night and he works all day!"

Darcy stood for a while, listening open-eyed and mouthed to the song. Suddenly, he was shaken out of his daze. "Bingley!" cried Darcy, cuing up the coconuts. And so, they left Henry and his Mounties to try on the dresses that he had in his barouche, and headed off to somewhere where Canadian Mounties and cross-dressers weren't, hopefully.

Part 13

Posted on Tuesday, 15-Sep-98

Author's Note: Okay. I know this has taken a while to get here, but I have met for ages to dedicate this chapter to Ann for being such a cool person and nice and kind and very knowledgeable. I would also like to say "Bonjour!" to mon chou a la creme--I expect you to laugh here! ;)

Narrative Interlude

And so, Darcy and Henry and Sir Edward set out on their search to find the enchanter of whom the old man had spoken in scene twenty-four. Beyond the forest, they met Sir Knightley and Sir Colonel, and there was much rejoicing. After some journeying, while they were in the frozen land of Nador, they were forced to eat-no, I cannot do it! I just cannot kill my precious minstrels! Forgive me ladies and gentlemen, but you will have to excuse me . . . I am *sob* all undone! I know that at this point the Knights are supposed to turn C-A-N-N-I-B-A-L, but I just can't do it! I LOVE the minstrels! I LOVE Neil Innes' singing . . . I cannot nor will not subject him to a boiling pot, especially for Sir Colonel's sake-I dare say they would disagree with him!

"Okay, this is just too silly! Let's take it from the top then, shall we?"

O, thank you, kind Colonel! Sometimes your sensible approach to life is quite refreshing!

And so, Darcy and Henry and Sir Edward set out on their search to find the enchanter of whom the old man had spoken in scene twenty-four. Beyond the forest, they met Sir Knightley and Sir Colonel, and there was much rejoicing. After some journeying, while they were in the frozen land of Nador, they were forced to sell Sir Edward's minstrels to an enterprising man who planned to change their haircuts and call them The Troubadours and have them produce an album. In any case, the enterprising Music Man, after singing a ballad, gave them some money and there was much rejoicing.

A year passed-winter changed into spring, spring changed into summer, summer changed back into winter, and winter gave spring and summer a miss and went straight on into autumn. During all this time of questing for Darcy and his noble Knights, nothing much happened, until one day . . .

And on this one day, they were journeying through the wild land called Chat, where they found a young woman with a magic wand, waving it about and making little smilies flash and dance wherever she pointed her stick. The men just stood and watched; amazed at her skills.

"Oooh! Ahh!" they said, amazed.

Darcy was the first one to recover himself. He signaled to his Knights, figuring this was the person who he was looking for. "Knights! Forward!" The coconuts sounded, and they timidly went forward, the person still making her smilies appear all over. "What manner of woman are you that can summon up smilies without pen or paper?"

The woman looked at him, and said mysteriously. "I . . . am an enchanter."

"By what name are you known?" asked Darcy.

"There are some who call me . . . 'Ann' . . ."

"Greetings, Ann the Enchanter," said Darcy.

"Greetings, King Darcy!" she said coolly.

Darcy was amazed. "You know my name?"

"I do," she said, then whipped about with her stick and made those smilies pop up again. "You seek the Holy Bits of Ivory!" she declared.

"That is our quest. You know much that is hidden, O Ann," Darcy said shrewdly, amazed at her vast store of knowledge.

"Quite," she said matter-of-factly, making the smilies dance in the sky. They all clapped appreciatively.

"Yes, we're- we're looking for the Holy Bits of Ivory. Our quest is to find the Holy Bits of Ivory . . . and so, we're- we're- we're looking for them . . ." he said, trying to lead into asked her help.

"Yes, we are!" declared Sir Henry.

"Yeah!" agreed Sir Knightley.

"We are. We are," asserted Sir Edward.

"We have been for some time."

"Ages!"

"Uh- uh, so, uh, anything that you could do to, uh- to help . . . would be . . . very . . . helpful," said Darcy timidly.

Sir Colonel was tired of all the fussing. "Look, can you tell us where-" he began, but then Ann pointed her stick at him and the smilies popped up at his feet, causing him to step back with the others.

"Fine. Um, I don't want to waste any more of your time, but, uh, I don't suppose you could, uh, tell us where we might find some, um- find some, uh- some, um- some, uh-" He was stuttering worse than Sir Edward.

"Some Bits of Ivory?" cried Ann, who knew where they were going with it.

"Yes. I think so," said Darcy.

"Y- y- yes," stuttered Sir Edward nervously.

To stop them from repeating themselves over and over again, she spoke up. "Yes!"

"Oh."

"Oh. Thank you!"

"Ahh."

"Oh. Fine."

"Thank you."

"Splendid!"

Ann was starting to become slightly irritated with them. Yes, they were cute, but all of this repetition was getting on her nerves. She was sure that Peter Wingfield could manage better . . . hey, where was he anyway? Ann found herself wondering. She knew that Rachel wasn't loath to bring in the odd character for a friend, so why wasn't her darling Peter here, anyway?

"Rachel? Why isn't my Peter in the story?"

Ann! Because this is Monty Python, remember!

"But I thought you were dedicating this chapter to me!"

Good point! Oh, all right . . . here you go.

Narrative Interlude>

And so, Ann the Enchanter got to look at a picture of her Peter Wingfield, and there was much rejoicing.

So, out came the smilies, which for some reason managed to scare them to the point.

"Look, um, you're a busy woman, uh-" began Darcy.

"Yes, I can help you find the Holy Bits of Ivory," she said.

"Oh, thank you. Oh . . ."

"To the north there lies a cave- the cave of London- wherein, carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock, the last words of Lady Susan Vernon . . ." *BOOM!* went the smilies, "make plain the last resting place of the most Holy Bits of Ivory."

"Where could we find this cave, O Ann?" asked Darcy eagerly.

"Follow. But! Follow only if ye be men of valor, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for Death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth!" she said dramatically, baring her teeth for effect.

"What an eccentric performance!" Darcy murmured to Sir Colonel, but they quickly began to all follow her, journeying toward London.

Continued In Next Section