A BP&G Chapter

[joegoda]

There was an odd assortment of people around the campfire that night.

A small contingent of centaurs, resplendent in silver and gold ornamental chest plates and helms held their pikes at attention, stood silent and watchful for anything that might threaten the camp. The impression they gave was coiled fierceness, and the fact that they were, at the tallest, three feet tall did nothing to lessen that impression.

Wood nymphs, red haired and dressed in green gossamer and silvery wings, flitted around the fire light, playing tag with and giving the lightning bugs a run for their money. The sound of high-pitched chittery laughter sparkled around and about the sounds of the wood sizzling and popping.

Gathered around the heat of the fire, were people of many sizes and heights. The Neeches, who were only a few inches tall and had hair like dandelion fluff, sat quietly and unobserved on the shoulders of a few humans there. Gants, thin as a shadow and sharp featured as a deep winter's breeze, sat nearest the fire, as they tended to like the heat.

An troupe of clowns, wearing the required red nose and face paint, sat next to a family of high wire performers, and across the fire from them was perched an illusionist in a green cloak decorated with stars, who was idly flipping playing cards into the air. Each card would hover for a moment and then it would disappear in a tiny puff of lavender colored smoke. Another magician, wearing a red cloak decorated in moons, and sitting close to the first, would pluck the smoke out of the air and, with a quiet flick of his fingers, turn the smoke into moths, which would then flutter out of sight.

Children, who would normally be asleep at the late hour, sat on the various laps of their parents, sleepily and quietly listening to the words of a man, who sat on a low and lightning blasted stump, and spoke in low tones.

The light from the campfire highlighted his long and lined face. His red shaggy hair, long since having missed a comb, was tossed about by the light breeze the night had called up. His eyes shone with the intensity of his stories, and they offset the softness of his voice. He was dressed in a soft hunter green cloak and hood. On the left breast of the cloak was a red shield, cut diagonally in half by a blue stripe. On the left side of the shield, a single stalk of wheat was embroidered in gold. On the right side, a tree, also done in gold thread, stood majestic and full. A shoulder bag, old and well used, hung at his side, as if it had been with him for so long, it had become a part of the man himself.

His name was Bags, and he was the king of Tears, a smallish kingdom that sat in a desert on the planet of Nowhere.

To his right sat Grizelda, his wife and companion. Her long brown hair was held up and in place by an emerald encrusted pin and knot. She was, as was Bags, wearing a cloak and hood of a darker green, also carrying the embroidered Seal of Tears. Her heart shaped face and hazel eyes had inspired an entire kingdom, and there wasn't a person who she had talked to that didn't recognize her royalty. When she spoke, there was a light seriousness that carried the hint of humor. When she walked, the people around her would nod acknowledgment of her inherent goodness. Queen Grizelda was not a slender person; rather her body had gained the majesty of her years and responsibility and reflected the size of her heart. No one who had met her saw anything but the glow of the person who was the queen of Tears.

To the king's left dozed a shorter man, round of belly and balding of head. On his bearded face, he wore spectacles, and behind his closed eyelids, he had piercing blue eyes the color of a hot summer day. He wore pantaloons made from a patchwork of colored patches. Each patch was in reality a pocket, and there were many, many patches. He wore over his shoulders a cloak, also of patches and of pockets. The cloak was lined with fur and was quite warm, and the warmth, combined with the sound of Bag's voice had lulled the little man to sleep. His name was Pockets, and on his lap sat his five year old, adoptive niece, Esmeralda, who was the daughter of Bags and Grizelda.

Esmeralda was also asleep, her auburn hair ringlets around her cherubic face. She snuggled against her uncle's chest and made small mouth movements as she slept. Her tiny hands gripped Pockets' shirt tightly, as if she would fall, but her face was peaceful and calm. Though very small, she was quite possibly the only one who really knew what was going on, and what was going to happen. Esmeralda was a very, very bright child.

"Tomorrow," Bags was saying, his voice tired and as raspy as road dust, "we will begin a battle to win back the Kingdom of Tears from Beegle and Pewitt." He paused to let that set into the minds of those listening. "It is possible that some of you may die. I won't lie about that. If you leave now, and go back to Forest End, I won't blame you. In fact, I wish I could join you. I'm tired of not having a home."

Grizelda cleared her throat and nodded. "I agree with Bags," she said, her voice soft and musical and serious as a spring storm. "There is no shame in protecting your families, in protecting your homes. That is what Bags and I are doing, so we cannot, in good conscience, ask you to do less."

Off to the left, on the edge of the firelight, a woman's voice spoke up. "We are with you, dearies, to the very edge of the seven hells themselves, if need be." The woman, Suzy of the musical troupe Queen's Gamboni stepped forward. The crowd parted around the diminutive red head to let her through.

"Tears was, for a time, our home too," Suzy said. "We can't let those bastards keep it... not when we know that they aren't doing anything good there." She nodded to her bandmates, as they gathered behind her. "We've discussed it, and we're with you to the end, loves."

The Bruce, Suzy's husband and guitarist for the troupe, nodded and added, "I've seen battle, as you know, Bags. Nothing there will surprise me. You've got my arm and my knives." He puffed a large cloud of blue smoke from his bone pipe. "They don't know who their messin' with." His teeth smiled while they gripped the stem of his pipe, but his eyes were deadly under their bushy brows.

A man named Thom stood up behind the sleeping Pockets. "You have our arms as well, Bags. I know Capitani would want it that way."

Grizelda nodded in their direction. "I'm sure she would, Thom. I wish she had felt well enough to be here." She paused. "But then again, I'm very pleased she is where she is, and is safe. We all love Capitani, Thom. I want you to consider something. You and Bren are all she has. Bren is safely tucked away at the University in Overhill. Are you sure you won't return to Forest End and be with her?"

Thom laughed, a deeply rolling sound, that caused smiles to appear on those around him. "Oh, she'll worry for sure, Griz. She'll fret and pace the floor and have sleepless nights, don't you doubt that. She'd also never forgive me if I wasn't here standing with you, helping you do what is right."

Bags turned his head to his love. "It's all right, Griz. I'll watch over Thom."

"You had better, Timothy Bags," Grizelda warned, "because king or not, there will be hell to pay from two women."

This garnered a laugh from the gathered crowd.

Thom smiled largely. "Don't worry, Griz. I'll be fine. Esmeralda told me so."

"Ah." Griz said, "Then it must be all right." To Bags she said, "You're off the hook... for now."

"Thank the Gods," Bags said with mock seriousness. "For a moment, I was worried." Standing, he turned and examined the people who were gathered around him. "Now, the women who have children will stay here, in this camp. In fact, the men who feel they would be better used here are also to stay here. We will need your support for the wounded and to pass supplies to the line. Is that understood? I don't want any stupid heroics, unless they come from me. Stupid heroics get people killed, and I'm the only one that is allowed to be stupid tomorrow. The rest of you get to be smart. I only want those with me that are ready for battle, because I don't know exactly what we'll be facing."

He paused and waited. Nobody said anything, and seemed to be waiting for him. He reached down and picked up a mug of brownish liquid and drained it.

"There is a wizard," he said, his voice loud and carrying. "A big, bad, green skinned wizard who has the ability to make the earth open up and swallow an entire house. I know he's there. I'm hoping that this sleeping lump here," he indicated Pockets, "will be able to handle him. There may also be a small army, Beegle's army, waiting for us there. Those guys are the ones that I will need your help with."

"You've already told us this, your majesty." A voice like a reed whistle came from one of the Gants. "Telling us again will not deter us from joining you. We have sworn to our king, Chum of Wizards Mountain and his Queen Journiey, that we would do what you required or us. We know of this Pewitt." The Gant spit onto the ground and snarled. "He will be no trouble."

"Peter of Overhill will not fail you, your Majesty." A centaur stepped away from the guarding circle. Around his neck on a red and white striped ribbon, he wore a medallion of gold. Peter, Mayor of the Centaur City of Overhill saluted sharply. "No matter what army we face, we will never waiver."

"Thank, Pete," Bags said. "I'd feel a bit better if you guys were... ummm." He felt Grizelda's eyes boring into the back of his neck. "Umm."

"What Bags is trying and failing to say," Grizelda interrupted, "is that your men haven't faced the true test of battle. No offense is meant, of course, it is just that he worries that no amount of training will prepare your men for a war of any size."

Bags nodded vigorously. "Yeah. That's what I meant. War isn't something that you can study in books and be ready for, Pete."

Peter nodded somberly. "We are aware of that, your Majesty, and even so, we are prepared, though ill experienced we may be. Our arms are yours to command."

Bags nodded. "Good, Pete. Good. Because I need you to be our point and reconnoiter the place. Your size'll let you sneak in and look around the place, no offense. You and your men are perfect for the job, especially if you strip off your gear, you'll look harmless."

"You want us to...," Peter's eyes bugged a bit. "You want us to go naked?"

Grizelda stood up. "Enough for tonight. It's very late and there are many of us who need to go to sleep." To Peter, she said, "You and Bags can talk about this in the morning, Peter. I'm quite sure he didn't mean totally naked." She turned to Bags. "Did you, dear?"

"Sure I did," Bags said. "A couple of naked little centaurs? They could walk in and check the place out without drawing too much attention. Nobody would believe their eyes. When was the last time anyone saw a centaur? Not in my memory, that's for sure..." He stopped himself just before Grizelda's eyes flashed the message that he had gone too far.

"But," he said, "it's all negotiable. There are always more than one option. And it is getting late, as Griz said. Let's all try to get some sleep." He stood and waited for the crowd to disperse to their individual sleeping places.

Grizelda took his elbow and whispered in his ear. "Naked centaurs? You don't think anyone would notice? How much beer did you drink?"

"Probably not enough, Griz," he said, sadly shaking his head. "These folks... how many of them are there? Fifty? Sixty? Most of them circus folks who've never been in a fight before and twenty little centaurs? And who knows how many of these forest folk... the Gants and Neeches and whatnot. Frankly, the Gants give me the creeps."

He sighed and looked straight into his love's eyes. "I'm scared Griz. I'm scared that these folks are going to fight a fight they won't come back from."

Grizelda put a supportive hand on her husbands arm. "We could just go back to Forest End, Bags."

Bags stood quietly, seeming to ponder the option. He looked at Grizelda searchingly, then turned and looked to where Esmeralda slept in Pockets' lap. The stars in the heavens counted exactly two seconds before Bags sighed again, and pulled his left hand over his face, from forehead to chin, as if trying to wipe any errant thought away.

"Naw," he said, pulling a grim smile onto his face. "What would be the fun in that?"

Griz returned his smile. "That's my hero. Now I know we can't lose."

Pockets snorted, opened one eye and muttered, "I wish you two would go to bed or something! I'm trying to sleep here!" He placed a protective arm over Esmeralda, closed his eye again and snorted back to sleep.

Comments

[bleuberi21.livejournal.com]

I need to go back and read all of these snippets.

[shackrlu.livejournal.com]

It is very good to see B,P & G together again.

[capi.livejournal.com]

An troupe of clowns, wearing...((a troupe??))
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ok!!! of course, capi is somewhere safely far away worrying *scowl* but otherwise let's rock n roll!!!!!!