Paul wrote:Part Five: The Battle of the Elder Cave and the Great Feast
While making the Wisteria-Amulet, Holly gave the Hermit much information about the Elder Cave: what to expect and the proper path to take to reach the Elder Plains. It was those instructions he followed now, walking once again across rolling hills of perfect green grass, the landscape dotted with single trees.
As he walked, he noticed the hills became lower and the land now stretched out before him, the single white-capped mountain still in the distance. The Hermit continued in silence, only his footfalls and an occasional gust of cool breeze keeping the vegetation swaying the only sounds ears could hear. His journey covered many miles, and still more miles laid in front of him, but his determination to see this duty through to completion drove him forward; his resolve, tested and forged by many years of experience, never lagged. The inner voice, scolding him as he departed from the Temple of the Broadsword, now was silent. As before, he dined on the fruit, which seemed sweeter and more filling, providing more energy to his limbs. The water he drank from the stream feeding a cold spring he found seemed lighter and faintly glowed with energy. “Hmn…maybe this is Holly’s secret to youth,” he mused, as he felt the strength of younger years fill him.
The land became farmland flat as the mountain became closer. The Hermit continued to walk, each stride bringing him nearer to his destination. Then, he spied a division of land imperceptible to most eyes, but the Hermit’s airborne-predator-sharp vision missed nothing. To him, the grass on the opposite side seemed dark brown if not green. He crept up to the edge, carefully using all his powerful senses to examine what lay before him. Deciding it was safe, he took a step forward over the divide. A powerful scent nearly overwhelmed his senses, for it surrounded him and permeated everything porous. Many years had passed since the last time he sampled that particular smell, but he knew it immediately, also knowing Holly’s instructions to find the Elder Plains accurate.
Bacon.
Again following the Pixie Witch’s instructions, the Hermit reached for the Wisteria-Amulet hanging about his neck, carefully placing his fingers on certain spots. Instantly he found himself in the Elder Cave, bypassing the Kodiak bear guard.
He peered around the cave, noting the inviting warm waters of the stone-surrounded Bubblibaff, the freshly arrived shipment of prime bacon, and the beautifully carved wooden thrones of the Elder Mod-Power Trinity across the room. He studied the thrones carefully, taking in the details of the inscribed symbols. The center throne displayed a hammer with a huge striking head attached, crossed by a lightning bolt. On the left, an elaborate carving of a hockey goaltender’s stick graced that throne. The third contained a simple carving of a paddle. Purple silk inlays and coverings accented the scene, with purple silk banners and a narrow purple carpet leading up to them. White marble comprised the floor where the thrones sat. The scent of freshly cooked bacon hung in the air.
Suddenly a speaking female voice drew the Hermit attention; the voice did not speak to him. A short distance away, a bespectacled adorable young teen woman with multicolored hair played a computer game while a small brown tabby with white paws looked on. “Hmn…that gal has angel wings! And she seems to be talking to herself…while naked! Remarkable! And the cat has bat-like wings…and small horns!” The Hermit took in more of the Cave. There were others in different spots in his vicinity, but they had not yet taken notice of his arrival. However, one did, and approached the Hermit, a question on his long-bearded face. His constant presence in the Elder Cave took in everything, yet so silent and unremarkable was the Hermit’s appearance that even he missed it at first. His attire bathed him completely in black, and the emblem on his clothing was of the planet Jupiter.
“I don’t recall you coming in,” said the man in black, “but I wasn’t paying close attention to the visitors. Good to meet you, my name is Don Alexander,” extending his hand in greeting. Don’s cordial welcome attracted the attention of the teen, named Cyanide Angel, and the tabby, called Xarlaxas. Don’s reputation as the Most Verbose of the Elder Council far preceded him, yet always had something important to say, so the other Elders listened.
“I am Paul, the Hermit of Mink Hollow.”
“Hermit of Mink Hollow? I clearly do not recall that in the introduction listing. How did you get in?” Don pressed the issue, stepping closer to the Hermit. “Who let you in?”
The Hermit decided honesty, of a sort, was the best policy. “A beautiful woman let me in,” smiled the Hermit, “and I just came inside. Actually, a couple women did. And two loony guys helped. Having guys go loony is a good thing. Twonie even better.” A hint of mirth could be heard in the Hermit’s voice.
“Aaaarrrr!!!” roared the Ebil Sithlord, raising the Bad Pun Stick against the Hermit. “How dare you mouth such evil in this chamber! No true guest would utter such words, only an intruder!” As if on cue, the opening to the Carmina Burana: O Fortunata started up as a sonic backdrop to Don’s attempt to land the first blow. Don swung the Bad Pun Stick repeatedly at the Hermit’s head, but the Hermit caught each blow skillfully with his walking stick. Finally, a swing by Don took him slightly off balance, and the Hermit pressed the advantage, quickly disarming him, the Bad Pun Stick clacking to the ground.
Don’s defeat drew the one called Tenjen forward from a small group conversation. Quickly changing into anthropomorphous lynx form, he batted away the Hermit’s walking stick. The Hermit, fully aware of his surroundings, backed away from the huge, crouching, ready-to-spring werecat. The Hermit backed away two more steps, and then seemingly preparing himself for the inevitable. The Carmina Burana: O Fortunata continued along in its quiet section.
Tenjen leaped at the Hermit, claws extended, seeking to knock the Hermit on his back. But just before his paws made contact, the Hermit nimbly dodged Tenjen’s attack, tapping him on the belly as he passed overhead, adding energy to his momentum, causing Tenjen to land squarely in the center of the Bubblibaff. Swimming to the side, Tenjen climbed out on the surrounding rocks, spitting water and shaking his head and limbs.
A frowning LadySheDevil, sensing her whispering-in-the-ears useless against the Hermit, flit off to find Asaryu, whom she found playfully menacing yet another filled-with-fear uninvited guest with a raised tentacoo, singing “Tentacoo Buttsecks! Take it!” to Steely Dan’s
Babylon Sisters.
“You must come quickly!”
“And leave my favorite sport! No way!”
“Another intruder has already defeated Don and Tenjen! Please! We need you!”
With an annoyed sigh, Asaryu grabbed the fearful intruder firmly with suction-cupped limbs and tossed him into a holding cell, heading to join the battle.
Meanwhile, Engy, who just bought a glowing orange gift-shop t-shirt that read “I will leave this thread alone as soon as others stop posting after me” in bold black type, joined the fray. Quickly pulling out his wrench and PDQ, Engy fired up his teleportational dispensers, housed in toolboxes in another dimension. Several supercharged sentries immediately teleported into the Elder Cave, all of them quickly advancing on the Hermit. “Ha ha ha ha,” laughed Engy, “My sentries are unbeatable, and my PDQ controls it all!”
“You control those with that?”
“Yes, and you can’t stop it!”
With blinding speed, the walking stick-less Hermit drew, aimed and fired his mystically powered shotgun in one motion, scoring a direct hit to the PDA screen with a deer slug. The force of the shell hitting the PDA carried both it and Engy’s hand into his chest, knocking some of the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping.
“I never thought of that,” Engy managed to get out between gasps. The sentries halted, much like the droid army in The Phantom Menace. And the Carmina Burana: O Fortunata continued along its slowly rising crescendo.
But the Hermit had no time to savor his victory, as the red-and-black-corset-wearing JVD the Lizard Queen, smacking aside an unmoving sentry, squared off against him. On her scaly right hand, she wielded her new power gauntlet, which resembled a smoldering welding glove. He had not met the other combatants before, but this one, he recognized by the scent and from his past, but only knew her from a distance. But she gave him no time to introduce himself. “I don't need to sully my claws on the likes of you! I'll bitchslap you into oblivion with my new toy!
FALCAWN PAWWWWNCH!”
But the Hermit once again, using the added power he gained by eating the fruit and drinking the glowing with energy water during his trip, dodged an attack.
“You forgot, my queen, the punch has to land!” The effect of the gauntlet instead struck another of the unmoving sentries, instantly vaporizing it…and a newly arrived specially marked package. It was a prime stash of bacon, and the outer layers clearly displayed its owner in a single word: Bear.
As the Hermit evaded JVD’s attack, the just-arrived Asaryu slowly snaked out a tentcoo, slipping it underneath his feet to capture him. But the Hermit, still fully aware of his surroundings, easily took himself out of her reach. Tentacoos writhed in frustration, while Asaryu’s face wore a deep pout at having her favorite sneak tactic foiled. And the Carmina Burana: O Fortunata continued along its slowly rising crescendo, ever higher, as the full company of voices announced their vocal presence.
The Hermit picked up a faint scent that was simultaneously strange and familiar to him. One that he pondered for a nanosecond how that particular scent could be here. But he had no time to investigate it, or listen to anything his inner voice told him. For an immense Kodiak bear grasping a gigantic hammer now appeared before him. The sound issuing from its throat was a terrific mixture of a human and bear growl.
“You!” boomed Bear. “You are responsible for denying me my right as Grand High Supreme Megalomaniac Dictator of The Elder Cave, for Life to the richest, tastiest bacon found on the planet! You! How dare you come here uninvited and use trickery to deny me that which is rightfully mine?” Wielding the freshly oiled and polished Mjolinir, the Mighty Mystic Ban Hammer, Bear swung at the Hermit repeatedly. The entire Elder Cave shook and shuddered with each massive physical hit on its floor. The other Elders stayed back as more and more of them arrived on the scene, watching the Hermit nimbly dodge each blow from the thoroughly angered autocrat.
In a certain bedroom, where every day a large patch of sunshine directly hit the floor, a lovely scantily-clad young woman suddenly awakened from her midday slumber. Long dark reddish hair crowned her head and short tiger-striped fur covered her slender, lithe curvaceous hourglass form. Rising on her hands, she surveyed the room with two beautiful cat-slit eyes, her slender cat ears perked up to take in any noise. There it was again: the room shaking accompanied by a mighty slam. Glass tinkled on her bureau as the room shook yet again. The fur on the young woman’s back slightly rose, her retractable claws extended from her fingers and toes, and her tail began to twitch angrily. “That’s Bear’s hammer! The Cave is under attack!” Her eyes narrowed as the slits grew larger while she lept to her feet and ran down the hallway to join the battle.
Bear, sensing his opponent too quick for him, engaged the Lightning Upgrade, roaring: “My given name is Bear, but to you it is Smitey von Doompaw!” With that, smaller bolts flashed as the Lightning Upgrade quickly charged and lashed out at the Hermit.
With unhuman speed and precision, the Hermit once again drew his mystically powered shotgun, firing a 6 shot slug. The airborne field of small round spheres instantly dissipated the terrible lightning strike with their mystical structure. “I trust you’ll not try that again,” was all the Hermit said.
Pitchforks suddenly appeared in the hands of every Elder. All the Elders the Hermit had battled now held one in their hands. Even Elders and invited guests who hadn’t joined the battle: Dirty’nEvil, Radbaron, Kamino Neko, smexy pirate Midgetshrimp, Pirate-Queen-in-a-oh-so-just-right-tight-red-dress Posseforlife, GothPoet, Retarius, Thaldin, Exploding Joe, The Dude, Azrael and Lilianna. Even MerchManDan abandoned his Gift Shop post to join the pitchfork legion. Fen, visiting the Cave on a break from her worldwide busking tour, lit the pitchforks with a single fiery breath. Not raising a flaming pitchfork, Cyanide Sweet instead charged up her lightsaber. The Carmina Burana: O Fortunata now reached the peak of its crescendo, the last full verse, the chant reaching full volume.
Claws clicking on the floor as she ran, the tiger-striped young woman arrived in the Great Hall. Instantly she gathered Cyanide Angel and Xarlaxas, placing them on her shoulders. It was then that she peered towards the advancing Elders and saw just who the opponent was. Surprise crossed her whiskered face as she recognized the Hermit’s face.
Launching herself between the combatants so quickly that both companions fell rolling across the marbled floor, the young fur-clad woman placed herself with her back to the Hermit, facing the advancing Elders. “Stop!” she shouted. But the Elders paid no heed. Bear growled “Teach, stand aside! This interloper has no place here!” Undaunted, the young woman stood her ground. Xar, arriving as fast as he could with his devil wings, stood in front of her, hissing at Bear.
The Hermit, seeing this young woman’s striking appearance and bravery, reminded him so much of one he had known many years before. His mind flashed those pleasant memories before his eyes, events before his long path of solitude.
Then he caught her scent.
Though it had been a long time, and the scent didn’t quite match the person he saw in his flashback, he knew her identity…and why she stood in his defense. But he said nothing.
Bear growled once again: “Teach! Stand aside, I tell you!”
In a sudden puff of smoke accompanied by loud noise (it sounded like “bamf”) the young woman became an enormous adult cat with the same stripe pattern, towering over the group. Her ears were back, her tail swishing angrily; she stood defiant, fixing the entire group with her stare. Her voice sounded unnatural, like an alley tomcat that was about to fight for garbage can rights with another of its kind, as the four words she uttered echoed throughout the Elder Cave.
“HE IS MY FATHER!”
Silence filled the Elder Cave, except the sound of the pitchfork flames, and the light humming of Cyanide Sweet’s lightsaber. Even the Carmina Burana: O Fortunata came to a sudden halt, as if a conductor had waved his hands and motioned across his neck. The Elders stood in shock as they slowly digested this information, except Bear and Dirty’nEvil, who still had their doubts.
“What! You know the interloper?” hissed Bear.
“Who are you really?” followed up Dirty’nEvil, glaring directly at the Hermit.
Teach transformed back to werecat form, while the Hermit, knowing by previous experience of her mother’s transforming power, had his cloak ready to cover her nakedness. “He really is my father,” she said coldly. “Let me show you. You know our mother gave me the Crystal Locket of Revelation many years ago, so I would always know what my father looked like, even as he aged.” Cyanide Angel and Xarlaxas came running up to her side, carrying the crystal locket collar she often wore. The Hermit recognized the crystal locket as one he gave Teach’s mother as a gift. But still he said nothing.
As Teach took the collar from her shoulder minions, she popped open the Locket, carefully placed two fur-cloaked fingers on each side facing outside the collar. A three-dimensional mystical image leaped into view, consisting of a portrait from the shoulders up. The shaded monotone white image contained a blurred image at first, but slowly came into focus. Audible gasps issued forth from many of the Elders as the image became sharp.
“It is him!” Bear exclaimed. Teach, after closing the locket, glomped onto the Hermit, purring contentedly as she nuzzled his chest, marking him as she held the locket in her hands. But none of this impressed the skeptical Dirty’nEvil, a man with a military-green complexion and a penchant for books and mischievous commentary with the college-age females that worked with him. “If you really are Teach's father, you will answer me these questions three!”
An impatient sigh came from the Hermit. “What are you, the man from Scene 24? You don't look like him. Your face is that of Gary from Menage a 3.” The Hermit had spied printed-out copies of the comic among the disheveled belongings of Ravenhull.
“Nay, I am Dirty’nEvil,” as a tone of annoyance crept into his voice.
“We can all see that, but who are you?” The Hermit did not stir a muscle of his grizzled countenance after his sentence, but his eyes betrayed his joking intent.
Dirty’nEvil gave him a stern look. “What is your name?” he demanded.
“Paul, the Hermit of Mink Hollow.”
“What is your quest?”
“To bring the Elder Council The Tribute of a Thousand Scribings.” More audible gasps came from the Elders. Even Teach looked up from her nuzzling. “No outsider has ever been charged with such a task!” they muttered among themselves.
Dirty’nEvil ignored the other Elders and pressed his third question. “What...or tell me,” a smirk beginning to cross his face, “who is Ron Hextall!”
Without missing a beat, the Hermit answered: “The best stickhandling goaltender in NHL history, a scoring threat with an opposition empty net, and a third generation NHLer.” Dirty’nEvil’s eyebrows rose.
“How did you know that?"
“Did you think I grew up in a forest cave?”
“Ach! I'll get you yet! What...is the name of Chris Isaak’s first work?”
“Silvertone,” came the ready reply.
“How did you know that also?” Dirty’nEvil expression was positively incredulous.
“You have to know these things when you are a character named after
Todd Rundgren's 1978 release.”
“Ah, but what is--” Leaving Teach to his cloak, the Hermit gave Dirty’nEvil a
Boot to the Head, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “That's enough out of you!”
With identity established and confirmed, the Hermit tells the Elder Council of his dream, his long time of solitude, his journey to them and the people he met on the way. “The gods certainly work shrouded in mystery,” said Bear as the Hermit finished his tale. “Doubtless the fact you sired our sister is why the gods chose you as one of the deliverers of The Tribute. I am surprised that your coming was not foretold to anyone here.”
“That was hidden even from me,” explained Teach.
“No matter; you are here now, and we will accept your tribute. But first,” Bear said with an ebil look in his eyes, “We must celebrate with a feast!”
There was much rejoicing, for they had a thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat. Tables, dishes, tableware and covering were all colored pink to honor Frankie. The now rescantily-clad Teach, shoulder minions in place, brought forth her indescribable BBQ Bacon Meat Pies and Triple Devil chocolate cake, washed down with Bacon Vodka and Baileys-infused noms, supplied by LadySheDevil. The time the Hermit spent dining and conversing with the Elders was so pleasurable the inner voice remained completely silent, even when Asaryu leaped on his back. She wrapped two tentacoos around his shoulders, yelling “Giddyap!” while two more tentacoos slapped his rear. The sight of the Hermit racing around making a horses’ neigh sound with a giggling Asaryu slopping hot chocolate as she rode brought much mirth to the assembled company.
“But I don’t understand how you knew me on sight,” the Lizard Queen queried the Hermit as they proceeded to face the Elder Mod-Power Trinity. “We haven’t met before.”
“Not personally, but by reputation. I served in your army in the Battle of the Frost Dragon while you were unavailable, when General Julius was in charge.”
“Ah, that is why. I would have remembered such fighting skill had I been there. Now that you mention it, Julius raved about one warrior in that battle. It must have been you. Glad to make your acquaintance.”
Everyone took their places as the Elder Mod-Power Trinity ascended their thrones, dressed in their official purple robes. Bear’s countenance had a look of a natural-born leader, ready to make any hard decision facing his responsibilities. Dirty’nEvil’s visage showed satisfaction that all tests revealed the gods did indeed intervene by bringing the Hermit to them. Teach wore an expression of loving devotion to her father.
It was her father that now approached them, presenting the Tribute. Before he could reach them, Azrael stepped forward.
“Let me see that,” spoke Azrael, holding out a hand for the Tribute. “Hmn…uh huh…mnnh…ah yes…but we’re all feeling much better now.” Then, in the curious manner all the Elders spoke, he said: “Buddy Ryan win.”
The Hermit replied: “But Buddy isn't coaching anymore in the NFL. Rex is. Son of the father win.” Using the word ‘win’ became so habit-forming the Hermit picked it up in the few short hours after his arrival.
“Not the Buddy Ryan I was referring to,” answered Azrael. “Wrong conclusion fail win.”
Leaning in closer, the Hermit defended his case. “You didn't say which one you were referring to. Clarification fail win.”
Azrael moved in closer. “The clue was in the quotation. Improper pop culture research fail win.”
Now they were a foot apart. “There were no quotation marks surrounding the quotation. Lack of proper form fail win.”
Asaryu tentacoo-separated the two combatants of words. “No arguing at the presentation. Stern look win.”
Engy leaped forward, proudly wearing his new “I will leave this conversation alone as soon as others stop posting after me” t-shirt. “I only show this to annoy others win.” More and more Elders claimed wins one after another, breaking up the ceremonies.
Jumping down from his throne, Bear stamped the handle of the freshly oiled and polished Mjolinir, the Mighty Mystic Ban Hammer on the floor, creating a minor thunderstorm in the cave. The rumblings caught the attention of the Elders, causing them to fall silent. Once again Bear stamped the Hammer on the floor, three times to stop the storm he created. “I am Grand High Supreme Megalomaniac Dictator of The Elder Cave, for Life, and I claim the win by right! Now, bring forth The Tribute of the Thousand Scribings!”
The Hermit gave the Tribute to Bear. He inspected it with an approving growl now and then. “Well done and orderly! Excellent! Beary-Mod approves of this Tribute!” Bear rolled up the scroll and cast a quick glance at Teach. He then addressed the Hermit:
“You obviously are well-read, articulate and knowledgeable. You also fight with skill and cunning few own. In addition, you are polite, kind and respectful, and take to friendship with us well. We would be favored to have you join the Elder Council!”
Many voices grunted their approval as Teach let out a gasp, and two happy tears fell from her lovely cat-eyes.
The Hermit stood silent for several moments before he spoke.
“Your offer is generous. Joining the Elder Council is a great honor, one of prestige that many seek but few attain. Becoming a member would hold many privileges, the best of which my daughter and I could catch up on all the years lost to us. But I am long in the ways of the Hermit, and my feet are set on that path. I must follow that path and find whatever it holds for me. So I must respectfully decline.” The Hermit did not reveal his obligation to Holly.
“Awwwwwwwwwwwwww,” said Teach. She came down from her throne, embracing him in a huggle. “Will I see you again?” Her cat-eyes could not hide their sorrow.
“You’ve always held the means to find me,” said the Hermit. “I must not have shown your mother how to work this part,” as he tapped several locations on the Crystal Locket of Revelation, then opened it. A projected map much like the ones seen in the
Verizon televised ads flashed into view, showing their location in the Elder Cave and the way to Mink Hollow, like a mystic GPS device. “I gave her this so you would always be able to find me, when you were ready to meet. I never allow visitors to my home, but you…Sweetie…you will always be welcome.” More happy tears flowed from Teach’s cat-eyes. “Thank you...Daddy!” She hugged and glomped the Hermit tightly, nuzzling him yet again.
Amid many handshakes, huggling, glomping and tacklepouncing, the Hermit took his leave using the Wisteria-Amulet, after swearing an oath to return to present The Tribute of the Second Thousand Scribings. The inner voice was content, since the trade-off of meeting his only daughter more than made up for his six-times-a-fortnight tribute to the Pixie Witch.
Epilogue and Postscript
Once again the Hermit found himself on the land divide that few could see other than he. Armed with bacon provisions (though he would not need such in the land of golden fruit and energizing waters) his walking stick and mystic shotgun, he started on his return path. Looking about, he saw no other person in sight for miles. Immediately the horn section in the Finale of the William Tell Overture fired up.
“What is this? Why is there music starting up every time I do something?”
“Because we will not be ignored!” bellowed a chorus of voices.
The Hermit looked around with his airborne-predator sharp vision, sampling the air with heightened senses. “Who are you?”
“We are the musicians and minstrels the author of this story chose not to include! It was we who played the music in Mink Hollow, in the shop, in the Temple and the Elder Cave!”
“But not bulletbrides.”
“Silence! Who do you think gave her the computer? Where else do you think she got a computer with a backlit Broadsword logo? Now we demand the author of this story recognize we will not go away, and better write us into the next frantic, or he will be dreadfully sorry!”
The author spoke up. “All right, all right! I’ll get you in the next one!”
“Good! But to show you we mean business, we provide you an insult! Your mother was an anteater, and your father smelled of elderberries! Now write on, or we shall taunt you a second time!”
The author rubbed his hands together, a fiendish smile crossing his face. “Oh they’ll be in it, all right. Wait till they get lost in a snowstorm with the Elders, fulfilling another MP reference! Or get trapped in a zombie apocalypse! Or when Yuki gets ahold of them! Heh heh heh heh!”
An impatient sigh escaped the lips of the Hermit as he turned once again to head home to his solitude and servitude.