FEDER'S THEME

Titled, "Intermezzo," this is a story that is unrelated to the surrounding main chapter of "Toyland," from which is comes.    The "Feder" is a half-man, half hairy beast, who's spends most of his time eating at the Fairy Land Inn.   He is large.   He is also gay, as are most of the clientele of the Ye Olde Fairy Land Tavern.   But they do not discriminate and all are welcome.   

INTERMEZZO

A knock at the door of the Fairy Land Tavern meant a stranger was about to enter as the regular customers and locals knew that one normally just walked in.   Miss Mary Contrary, being nearest the door walked over and opened it.  All eyes stared as the stranger walked in and presented himself.

Speaking with a thick French accent the gentleman announced, “Good evening all.  I am a traveler seeking comfort and lodging.”

“Well, then, come in, your making a draft, silly,” said Dickie the Bell Ringer, who was immediately attracted to the dashing figure of the man.  “I beg you, sit at my table, tall, and handsome stranger.”

“My thanks for your kindness.”

“Damn!” said Puss N’ Boots.  “That Dickie is one fast worker.”

“What is your name, stranger?” asked Dickie.

“My name is Alexis De Toqueville, and I am traveling around America seeking to understand this strange and wonderful country.”

“America?” asked Feder the Wolf.

“Mon Dieu!” shouted De Toqueville. “A talking beast!”

“It’s all right,” said Dickie, “Believe me, he’s only a beast when he’s eating!”

“But he…it’s hands…all that hair…what…?”

“Sir,” said Feder, “I am a member of the rare and uniquely gifted breed of wolves, known collectively as Feders.  We have many human characteristics.”

“Indeed!   Your hands have both claw and human hand characteristics, as does your face!”

“His member is not human, trust me on that!” offered the oldest of the Three Pigs.  “I thought died and gone to heaven!”

“But… but…”

“Yes, I’m also gay,” Feder said, munching on some fries.

“Astonishing.”

“Oh, yes, he’s quite the lover. But sex is not his most serious passion.”

Everyone laughed.

“And what might that be?” asked de Toqueville.

The Feder simply laughed and pointed to his gut.

“Ah, a bit heavy in the middle.”

“Yes, I’ve tried joining a health club, running, acupuncture, even hypnosis.”

“Have you tried dieting?”

Howls of laughter filled the Tavern as…

(Music up.)

The Feder’s Song*

*Sung to the tune of “Show Me” from Lerner and Loewe’s “My Fair Lady”

Give me a steak,

Followed by cake,

Add a milk shake,

Feed me!

It makes me hard,

To think of lard,

Is that meat charred?

Feed me!

Here we are together in the middle of a meal,

Listen to how,

It makes me squeal!

Open up the Twinkies let us eat them by the pack!

Isn’t it time for a snack?

Lobsters and rice,

Isn’t that nice?

To be concise:

Feed me!

Horsemeat is fine,

Gallons of wine,

Chunks of porcine!

Feed me!

Gather all the pork chops and deliver them right here,

What makes you think,

I don’t like beer?

When the bacon’s frying I will salivate a pool,

Look at the way that I drool!

Reach for my pie,
You’ll lose and eye,

Do I look high?

Feed me.

Feed me!

If you’ll allow,

I’ll take some chow,

Now, say good-bye to this cow,

 

Feeeeeeeeeeeed ME NOW!

“Well, I think we can put aside all doubt as to what his true passion is,” said Dickie.

MIRACLE IN JULY

 One of the favorite stories from the Toyland series:  

~ MIRACLE IN JULY ~

blistering heat wave engulfed Toyland and surrounding areas for a good part May and all of July.   The parched earth begged for water—none was coming.  Strong men, working in the fields or streets of Toyland passed out from heat stroke.  Everywhere tension was high and nerves were frayed.  But this day the tension and frustration grew even greater as it was the day the summations to the jury in the trial of Jo-Jo the Piper’s Son were to be given and in all likelihood, the verdict itself.

 “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence against Jo-Jo the Piper is, as you can plainly see, overwhelming.  You must, according to your charges, convict the defendant and return with a guilty verdict.”  Wee Willie Shat bowed deeply to the jury and took his place at the prosecutor’s table.

Outside and inside the courtroom an ugly “blood fever” gripped the once peaceful town of Toyland, for outside the Magistrate’s court, Muggsy and the entire troop of the Mystic Knights of the Sea surrounded the building.  They were clad in peasant clothes that easily concealed their weapons.  Those weapons included swords, clubs, maces and all manner of stick with nails in them.  They were prepared for a violent conflict if a guilty verdict was handed down, which was a virtual certainty.  And that would just be the beginning.  It was clear now that a complete purge of the government was necessary beginning with the Magistrate himself, who must be killed, they believed, along with his entire staff, and whatever member’s of the King’s Men that remained loyal to them, falling short of killing the King himself, whom was still held in almost mythical regard.  They would not kill him, but his role would be reduced to that of figurehead, a King without real power, the real power going to the people of Toyland in the form of a rudimentary republic based on that of the ancient legends. 

Inside and around the perimeter of the wooden building, stood 200 members of the King’s Men, bristling with armor, staffs, swords and daggers at the ready.  They had been warned of a possible uprising. 

As word got around town that the Mystic Knights were present and ready to fight, the townspeople began to choose sides and arm themselves.  Other armed themselves without choosing sides, but simply to protect themselves, as that need seemed inevitable.

Tension soared as did the thermometer, which at noon read, 235 degrees platypus.    The crowd grew in number as the hot summer sun rose in the sky.   Thirst, heat, and the mounting dryness, made everyone more uncomfortable and short tempered.  And the jury deliberated.

The town's well became a place where occasional fisticuffs broke out, and although calmer heads prevailed, the fear of violence increased and thus increased its own likelihood.   

“I thirst!  Make way, as I will get to the well!” shouted Cornelius the Potter, pushing aside a young woman with a child.

“Sir!  You are no gentlemen!” said Dennis, the weaver,” drawing his sword.   “Stand and fight, man.”  They would have killed one another but

just then, someone shouted. “The jury has returned!  The jury has returned!”   

We, the jury, find the defendant Joey-Jo-Jo the Piper's Son, guilty of treason.

The courtroom emptied and all those inside spilled out onto the street, but there was nowhere to go as the streets were now filled with people. Jo-Jo wrists were bound together as he tried to shield his eyes from the brilliant sun. The verdict, combined with the soaring heat, the shouting, shrieking and all the tumult caused Jo-Jo to pass out.  The mob and all of the soldiers, the guards and King’s Men—everyone who was there—gripped their weapons tightly. 

 Bloodshed of  Biblical proportions was imminent.  

I could not stand it any longer.  It was time; I made up my mind to intervene.

“Stop it!  I shouted from a tall platform that suddenly appeared on the steps of the Court.  “Stop it at once all of you!”

“Who the hell are you?” Muggsy asked removing the hood covering his head. 

“Never mind who I am,” I said.  “This must stop.  You are all about to destroy yourselves in a ridiculous display of senseless violence!”

“Ah, go on!  We know what we’re doing,” snapped Muggsy, “Now shut up or we’ll cut your head off as well!”

“Oh, no you won’t!” I responded.

“Oh, really?” said Muggsy, defiantly. “Let’s see.” He began to approach me.

“Cut his head off!”

“Kill him!  Kill him!”

“Kill the stranger!”

Suddenly, just as Muggsy’s was about to cut me in half with a stroke of his broadsword it transformed into a long, green stem with an oversized sunflower at the end of it.

“What the…?  Are you a magician?  Go away, we don’t need magicians here!”

“I am not a magician.  But you are powerless against me,” I said.  “Now put down your weapons and go home.”

“I’ll kill you mahself, you interloper!” shouted Kingfish, running at me, dagger in hand.

“Freeze, Kingfish,” I said, and Kingfish’s feet stuck to the ground as if they had been nailed down.  “Holy mackerel!  And how did he know my name? And why is mah feets stuck?”

“Who is he?”

“What form of devil is this?”

“Men!  Seize him!” shouted Willie Shat.  A group of armed thugs brandished their swords and headed toward me.  I smiled, and said, “Don’t waste your energy.”  With that, the men were pulled about 10 feet off the ground and held their place there, their legs pumping furiously beneath them.

“Now, now, Magistrate,” I said. “Dear Mr. Shat, don’t you realize that in spite of your terrible affliction that you may accomplish great things?  Why not live an enlightened life—a life of beneficence and good will; a life dedicated for the welfare of mankind, as opposed to a life of bitter, unfulfilled ambition?”

“What?  What condition?  I know not of what you speak!  This man is mad!  Mad I tell you!”

I had no choice but to come clean.

“Good people of Toyland, this may be difficult for you to understand but I, um…I am the author of this story.  My name is Joe Ciolino.”

Roars of laughter resounded throughout the square. 

“He’s mad!”  
"What kind of a stupid name is that?" 

“He’s a mad demon!”

“Either that or he’s a mad fool!”  More laughter.

“No, it is true.  I am responsible for everything that has happened here.  Well, me and this other guy, but that’s not important.  I have created this mess and now, I’m going to end it.”

“Now I know you’re mad!” said Muggsy.  “Prove to us, if you can, that you are the so-called, ‘author.’”

“Okay, uh…how?”

“Well if you are the author you could make it rain, right now.”

A loud thunder rolled across the valley as clouds formed with a sudden downpour of heavy rain that lasted for exactly thirty seconds.

“Hey, that felt good,” said Muggsy. “But mere coincidence.”

“Oh, really?” I said, “How about this—

Suddenly there appeared on the Court steps, Ava Gardner, Bette Davis, Joan Blondell, and Dorothy Lamour. 

“How about that?” I said, proudly.

“How about what?  Ha! Four dames?  A poor trick!  I’ve seen magicians at the fairs in France do more than that.”

“Yes but that’s Bette Davis!”

“Who?”

“Oh, crap.  I forgot you don’t know these people.  Okay girls, thanks.”

The girls disappeared.

“Okay, now listen.  Tell me what can I do to prove to you that I am the author.”

There was grumbling and exchanges of ideas throughout but no suggestions that could not be attributed to hokey magic tricks or mere coincidence and without doubt to authorship.

“There must be something I can do!  There must be!”

We went back and forth, with suggestions ideas and I made several demonstrations of various kinds, including at one point turning half the townspeople into cows and back again.  None of it convinced anyone without doubt that I was who I claimed to be.

“I give up,” I said.  “Go ahead, if you want to kill yourselves, be my guest.”
“Hoo-rah!  Let’s go men!”  The Mystic Knights charged, swords and weapons blazing.  The townspeople began to fight each other. The King’s Men and soldiers loosed their swords from their sheaths.  

“Wait!”  I had finally come up with something. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

Pointing with grand gesture to the Northern sky I said, “Behold!” a la Charlton Heston, out of the sky appeared…a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.

“Santa!  It’s Santa Claus!”

“Santa in July!?!  Tis a miracle!”          

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa’s hearty laughter could be heard as his swept across the rooftops, circled the town square and landed softly on the small green lawn in front of the Court House. 

“Well, well, well, Hellooooooo, good people of Toyland!  Greetings!  Greetings and felicitations!  What’s this?  A special holiday? A parade?  What festivities have I stumbled upon?” 

Ugly Sam blurted out “It’s a bloody revolution, Santa!”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa?” cried Santa.

“No! No!” shouted Muggsy.  “No, Santa, it’s uh…we’ve all gathered to…uh…um…”

The King’s Men turned away sheepishly, looking down at their feet, or staring into the sky, or whistling nonchalantly. 

“It’s just a…uh…”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!  Speak man, I have gifts to give out!”

“Santa has gifts!”

“He’s brought us gifts!  Gifts in July!”

“Tis truly a miracle!”

“Yes,” Santa spoke.  “I decided to make a special trip to Toyland because of all the towns and villages of the world, yours is the one closest to my heart.  Your people are kind and wise, and you value peace and respect of your fellow man above all else.”

\
“Yes! Peace and respect for all mankind!” cried Muggsy, hiding his sword again.

“Peace and respect!” shouted the mob.

Soon all the guardsmen soldiers and the entire town were waving their weapons shouting, “Peace and respect!”

It took Santa about six hours to hand out all his gifts. Muggsy got a new shaving soap holder, Kingfish got the complete scores of Duke Ellington, and each soldier received fishing equipment of the finest craftsmanship.

Wee Willie Shat got a new chess set (he loved chess).  The townspeople were thrilled to receive anything in the middle of July that they didn’t have to pay for. 

“Ho! Ho! Ho!  And now, I must leave you… you know, there are many places in the world that Santa is terrified to visit—they are very dangerous.  But they need me most of all because they have forgotten the true message of Christmas!   But you, good people of Toyland, you live it every day of the year.  You have kept the true meaning of Christmas alive!”

“Hoo-rah!” the crowd bellowed.

“Damn,” Kingfish whispered to Muggsy.  “Dis Santa be way out of touch.”

“Shut up!” Muggsy reprimanded.  “Peace and respect!”

“Farewell, good people of Toyland!”

“Farewell, Santa!”

“Good-bye!  See you at Christmas!”

Soldiers, guardsmen, all smiling and waving doffed their caps or helmets; everyone waved farewell with gusto.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!  On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donner and Blitzen…” Santa’s sleigh lifted off the ground and soared into the sky.   “Ho!  Ho!  Ho!” cried Santa, disappearing over the mountaintop.  (MUSIC)

As everyone basked in the glory of Santa’s visit, I strolled over to Muggsy.

“So, Mr. Mee, do you believe me now?”

“Hah?” said Muggsy, still examining his gift.

“You must believe me now.  I made Santa appear in July.  I brought you Santa!”

“Oh, please,” he said, dismissively.  “You heard him.  He came because he loves us.  We keep the true meaning of Christmas alive!”

“Oh, that’s it!  I can’t take it anymore.  I’m leaving,” I said, and stormed off.

“Good.” Said Muggsy.

“But before I go…” I waved my hand (simply for effect, of course, all I had to do, really, was type it) and all the townspeople were suddenly stark staring nude.

“Ha! Take that! I  did that!  That’s right!” I boasted.

“Hey! Now that we’re all nude let’s all run down to the river!” Muggsy shouted.

“Yes! To the river!”

“Last one in is a rotten plum,” Jack Horner shouted.

“This is so amazing!” said Dickie the Bell-ringer. “I had this same dream last night!”  Yes, the townspeople, the soldiers, the King’s Men, Jo-Jo, the Mystic Knights, even Wee Willie Shat, who suddenly, thanks to Dickie the Bell ringer, discovered that he could, in fact, achieve hardness, all frolicked in the river, enjoying all manner of innocent fun and a little wet debauchery.   Here, Willie Shat, arms outstretched, and revealing to all that the appellation “Wee” was no longer appropriate, shouted “Truly, this is a miracle!”.

“If dis be da true meanin’ o’ Christmas, den mah name is Harry Truman!” noted the Kingfish.

nd so, peace, joy, and brotherly love once more reigned over Toyland.  Well, not exactly.  But it was close.

KING SIGURD AND THE THIEF OF TOYLAND

rouching on a ledge high above the main thoroughfare of Toyland, Albrecht the mason, hammer and chisel in hand, put the finishing touches on the last gargoyle to be put into place.   The crew of masons, under Albrecht’s direction, had done a first rate job, creating a building that would last forever, they thought. Below him, Sigurd walked alone onto the marble steps.  Soon he was to be enthroned as Sigurd, First King of Toyland.  As he climbed the steps of the newly built King’s Palace, all the men of Albrecht’s crew waved or cheered.  Some tossed their caps into the air. Others simply watched in awe.

Sigurd stood proudly on the top step and the sight of him was an impressive one: the wind blew his shoulder length, dark-brown hair, his huge frame (he towered over most Toylanders, and had a broad, thick chest); his dark red cloth tunic contrasted sharply with the white stone of the palace.  Sigurd stood thinking to himself that no man, particularly he, deserved to live in such splendor.  But the people of Toyland were insistent and paid an extra tax for two years to enable the construction of a palace worthy of their first King, a man whose life had been so bravely dedicated to Toyland’s safety and prosperity.  It was said that without Sigurd’s leadership on the battlefield, Toyland would no longer exist.  Sigurd himself thought that an absurdly untrue, giving all the credit to the victory at Brockenfeld to the courage, skill, and fortitude of his men.  To what extent either viewpoint is true it is difficult if impossible to say.  Nevertheless, Sigurd earned his victory and led Toyland’s growth over one hundred and fifty years—years of peace and contentment.  The people of Toyland now spoke with their own hard earned money building a palace for Sigurd and all future King’s of Toyland to live, as honored and worthy monarchs.  

Sigurd was to be crowned King the following Saturn’s Day, timed with the opening of the palace, in exactly seven days.   

Later that night, Sigurd visited the small church of Toyland to give thanks and to meditate all that had happened.  He sat quietly when a powerful storm began to buffet the exterior of the church.   Sigurd tried to ignore it, but the noise of the storm was too strong and distracted his prayerful state.  He decided to just sit and wait for the storm to pass when suddenly a bolt of lightning and mighty wind caused a tree just outside the church to split, sending one half of it crashing through the large window and into the church and came to rest on the high alter smashing several reliquaries the contents of which went flying around the church in all directions.  Soon, dozens of concerned citizens were cleaning up the mess and attempting to repair the damage to the church and the reliquaries.  This took several weeks, but the coronation went on as scheduled. 

“Your majesty, the repairs are going well and most of the relics have been completely restored.”  Alcuin, First Assistant to the King seemed pleased with himself and the work his staff had accomplished. 

“What do you mean, most?” Sigurd’s face was taut. Alcuin, with Gerbold, the King’s Second Assistant, was beginning to sweat.

“Well, sir, that is to say, all but one.”

“One?  And why not?”

“Well, your majesty we cannot seem to locate the relic.”

“What do you mean cannot locate it?  Do you think things just disappear?”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but you see, it was not among debris and broken glass that we cleaned up.” Alcuin was getting nervous.

“What?” Sigurd was disbelieving.

“I’m sorry sir, but…”

“Well, which relic was it?”  Sigurd was getting impatient.

There was some silence.  Gerbold spoke up when it seemed Alcuin was at a loss for words.

“Well, sir we’re not sure…the case was empty, broken, but we’re not sure what was in it.”

“Not sure what…” Sigurd stopped himself from grabbing his sword.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “it appears that we have a thief in our midst.”  Sigurd took a deep breath and rubbed his chest with three fingers of his right hand.  “Summon all who were here that night.  And someone please determine what piece…”

Sigurd’s chamber door was suddenly flown open.  Egbert, Gerbold’s secretary came running in.

“Sorry to interrupt sir, but we think we know which relic was housed in the empty reliquary.”  

To Sigurd’s great fear the most precious relic of Toyland was now missing – the one relic that he looked to for strength and confidence in time of need.  It was not a holy relic but one that had immeasurable personal meaning to him.  That it was missing or possibly lost was unthinkable to him.

“If you do not find this most precious relic, it will be dire for Toyland’s future,” he said. “It may, in fact, mark the beginning of the end of Toyland.”

The King’s men turned and left the chamber giving each other rather quizzical looks. 

“He has gone mad,” one whispered.

“Is this a test of some kind?” offered another.

“Surely, he cannot be serious.  It’s just a myth, isn’t it?”

“No, I think it true but, but even so, does anyone even care?”

“Did you see him rubbing his heart?  I think he’s having a stroke!”

“Does anyone even care about it?”

That was the question Sigurd really wanted answered.  Did anyone in Toyland hold sacred the meaning and value of the Tooth of Drollo?

The Tooth of Drollo was, of course, the tooth that Lothair the Great had removed from Drollo’s very mouth.  It had been given a place of honor in the church upon Lothair’s death and there it remained.   But over the passing years other relics, icons, and statues were added to the high alter, relegating the small tooth to almost entire obscurity.   In fact few people remembered that it was there at all.  Many grew up without real knowledge of Lothair and his great deed.  Others believed it a myth.

****

“Drollo’s tooth?” asked little Siglinde, the Potter’s daughter.

“Yes,” said Odwin, the teacher. “Tell us of Drollo’s tooth.”

“I…I…” Poor Siglinde had no idea what Odwin was talking about.

“Anyone else…?” asked Odwin looking over the class of Toyland children, which ranged in age from four years of age to twelve. “Anyone…Drollo’s tooth…anyone…?”

There were no answers forthcoming.

In the rear of the classroom, Sigurd himself, stood red-faced, glaring at the scene.  With three fingers of his right hand he massaged the center of his chest, as if he were in terrible pain.

“This is impossible!”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty.  But it’s been many, many years since Lothair has been part of the curriculum.”

“Curriculum?” Sigurd approached Odwin menacingly.  “I’ll give you curriculum!”  With that, Sigurd grabbed Odwin by the back of the neck and rump and tossed him out the school window.  The class burst with laughter and applause.  Sigurd bowed gracefully to them and left.

Soon, the entire town was talking about the incident.  And of Lothair. 

“What is this about Lothair?  Who is Lothair?”

“Lothair!  You remember!  He discovered fire.”

“No!  Lothair the Great!  He freed the slaves of Toyland!”

“No!  He crossed the river to defeat the Brockenfelders!”

“No!  Hagen the Terrible crossed the great river.  Lothair was that famous cross-dresser!”

“Lothair’s coming?”

As much silliness was being said about Lothair the truth was beginning to take hold.  Those who were old enough to remember, and there were a few, began to inform the townspeople.

A typical conversation went like this:

“I cannot believe you don’t know about Lothair and Drollo’s tooth!” said Oggy the Fair, surrounded by his twelve great-great grandchildren.  “In my day, he was the greatest hero ever!”

“Tell us, grandpa!”

“Yes!  Tell us!”

Or,

 “To think, Drollo’s actual tooth was there in the church all along!”

“How foolish we were!  I would have loved to have seen it!”

“I saw it once!”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did!”

Arguments and even fisticuffs were fought simply over who had in fact actually seen the tooth.  Many who claimed to see it, however, could not accurately describe it.

“We want Drollo’s tooth returned!” was the cry in front of the palace.

“Justice!”

“Catch the thief!”

“Where is the King?  Why doesn’t the King do something?”

“Sigurd!  Sigurd!  Sigurd!” the crowd grew and chanted the King’s name.

Sigurd finally emerged.  The crowd grew silent.

Before he spoke, Sigurd took a deep breath, and rubbed the center of his chest for a moment.

“Citizen’s of Toyland.  What is it you wish of me?”

“We want Lothair’s relic!”

“Find the thief of Drollo’s tooth!”

“We want our relic restored to us!”

“Lothair the Great would be ashamed!”

“Lothair, Lothair, Lothair!” they all chanted.

The King raised his hand asking for silence, which was given.

“My fellow citizens of Toyland.  I propose this: since the thief must be one among us, he or she will never expose themselves and return the tooth in public.  Therefore I propose that tonight, everyone return to their homes, and remain there till morning.  No one will venture out after dark.  Then, the thief whom I am sure is now here among us, will be free to return the tooth in anonymity.  In the morning a trumpet shall sound signaling that the curfew is over.”  Again, Sigurd took a deep breath and fingered his chest.

“Thus, it is so ordered.”  The King turned and went into the palace. Members of the crowd turned and walked away, each member casting a suspicious eye at everyone else.

*****

“Your Majesty, I have summoned the Empto, the Physician.  I believe he should examine you,” said Alcuin, who stood outside the bedchamber of Sigurd who had retired for the night.

“Go away!” shouted Sigurd through the closed door.

“But sir, the pain in your chest…”

“I have no pain in my chest!”

“Sir, please, we have all noticed…”

“Gaaaaa!” the door swung open and Sigurd waved a large broadsword over Alcuin’s head.  “Get out!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” exclaimed the Physician as he fled in terror.

Alcuin simply walked backward, bowing humbly as he went.

The evening past.  The morning came.  A trumpet sounded to announce that citizens were allowed to come out.  Like a stampede of deer they flew, straight to the church where Sigurd stood, key to the door in hand.

“Open the door!”

“Please!  Let us see Lothair’s prize!”

“The tooth!  We want to see the tooth!”

“I will enter the church alone.  If the tooth is there, I will bring it out for all to see.  If it is not, you will come in and remove my dead body.”

The crowd gasped.

Sigurd turned and opened the door.  He entered then closed the door behind him.  Moments passed with extraordinary tension.  Then, when one of the King’s men was about to enter the church to investigate Sigurd emerged, Drollo’s tooth in hand, returned to its original reliquary.

Hysteria reigned.  A festival was declared for one week’s time at which visitors for all the known countryside would be invited.  Games were held; feats of strength displayed and recreations of Lothair’s heroics were enacted on small stages everywhere.

Seated at the main table at which sat dignitaries from many surrounding townships and provinces, Sigurd smiled broadly.  At one point Alcuin turned to him and said, “Sir I apologize for summoning the doctor that evening.  I see that you suffer no longer from any chest discomforts and are quite fit.”

“Yes, yes, I understand, think nothing of it, nothing of it,” Sigurd said, filling his plate with fresh baked apples and slices of roast mutton.

Yes, Sigurd the Great hero and warrior, statesman and first King of Toyland, no longer rubbed the small area in the center of his chest, as the Tooth of Drollo, strung on a small chain around his neck, no longer irritated his skin.

LOTHAIR, THE GREAT -- A Tale of History

(excerpted from, "TOYLAND")

 “I greet you, Great Lothair! All Hail, Lothair, the Great!” – Sigurd, First King of Toyland.

othair the Great, of Toyland (as he would much later be known) was the first man in our small village to be named to any official post or authority.  He was unanimously elected “Mayor of All the People’s Courts and Grand Decider,” a long title to be sure, but we wanted to be precise.  Surely, ‘tis humorous now, looking back all these hundreds of years, but in those days we had never had a leader of any kind.  Oh, we had smart, even very wise folk that people deferred to in times of conflict, but a genuine leader on the order of, “He Who Brought Us Here,” no.  But time came when we realized that there were just too many of us to keep track of, and too many silly differences for to leave to the discretion of a small group of unofficial, if brilliant, inhabitants.  

I am guessing that the first question you will ask is, “Why Lothair?”  Ah, that is a very good question.  Many do not even remember the truth behind the decision.  I do.  I was there.  My name is Sigurd, better known to all of you as, “Sigurd, First King of Toyland.”

I was just a boy the day the much-respected Lothair the mason, decided to make his journey into the unknown wilderness to the east and seek out the truth about the legend of great dragon.  This legend had prevented many from ever venturing out of the city walls, and thus kept our village isolated and with virtually no contact, business or otherwise, that regular travel to the outside world would naturally breed.  No people had yet ventured as far into the continent as our people, or so we were told.   Now, in order to feel safe about seeking trade with the world outside to which we may sell our goods, we needed to know about the dangers involved, not the least of which presented itself in the form of the legend of the great dragon. 

Thus Lothair, considering the good of the community, decided that he would go and explore the eastern region to discover the truth.

“Go with grace, good Lothair,” we shouted, some, tossing flowers of many varieties and colors.  “All of Toyland wishes you luck.”  But many wept, as they believed they would never see dear Lothair again.  Lothair bowed gracefully and walked through the old wooden gates of the tiny little village.   He was the first member of the community travel east since our forebears arrived in the Long Ago.   

That night did Lothair camp on the far side of the mountain near the waterfall.  It was beautiful, he thought—almost enchanting, but since he did not believe in any of the local mythology he did not think beyond that.  As he drifted off peacefully, he became aware of some rustling in the bushes nearby.   “A raccoon, no doubt.”  He turned over and sought again to sleep.  Then he could swear he heard laughter—laughter such as that of very small children when they do not wish to be heard. 

“Hey-o!  Is anyone there?”

More laughter, and he thought, a sparkle of light.  “Ah-ha!  Now I see you!  Show yourself, if you be friend!”

Lothair stood and began to walk toward the voices. His foot became trapped in a small hole causing him to fall forward his face landing in a puddle of mud.

“Blecch!” he shouted.

Then the laughter tripled in volume.  There were several voices, all seemingly coming from the area of a strange glow.  He gathered himself, wiped the mud off his face, and walked further. 

“I know you’re there!  Why not show yourself!

At that moment, a chipmunk bit him on his ankle, not nearly hard enough to draw blood but enough for Lothair to feel a sting. 

“Gaaaaaaaaaaa” he took off running into the dark and fell ass-backwards into the lake.

It was too much for the Nymphs of the Lake to bear.  The all fluttered around Lothair, laughing, singing, but mostly laughing.  Lothair sat in the water, looking on in dumb amazement. 

“I must be dreaming,” he said. That only caused them to laugh even harder.  Lothair then noticed two gnomes on the shore of the lake smiling, and smoking pipes.  Several small animals, perched in the trees, also laughed heartily.

“Good lord! I…I…”

“He cannot speak!” said Felixerie. “Have we startled the wits out of you?”

“Yes, indeed you have! I cannot believe my own eyes.  Are you all real?”

“Oh…we are real,” said Roxanna.  “At first it was we who thought you were not real.  We have never seen your kind before.  What are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not a wolf, or a bear, nor are you a horse of any kind.   You stand on two legs, yet…you are no ostrich!”  This brought howls of laughter, even from the gnomes and they were a tough audience.

“I am Lothair of Toyland.”

“Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“But what are you?  What kind of being?  You are not a god are you?”

“Good heavens, no!  I’m just a person.  A…uh…human.”

“Human!  Oh….”

The night passed with much conversation and exchange of information.   Lothair, now completely mesmerized by the beautiful nymphs, the talking raccoons, and even the cantankerous gnomes, was like a child again, marveling, with great pleasure at his discovery. 

“And that is how we came to be here,” said Lothair.  “Not a very interesting story, it’s true, but you haven’t told me how you came to be here.”

“Ah,” said Felixerie, “that is a tale that we ourselves have yet to learn.  But look!  The sun rises!  We must go.  Farewell, Lothair of Toyland.  Come visit us again.”

“I certainly will, my new friends. Farewell.”

“And stay away from the Valley of Drollo!”

“Drollo?”

“The dragon! Did you not know?”

“The dragon!  But what…” it was too late.  The nymphs had disappeared.

Lothair intrigued by the nymphs warning could not but resist the urge to see this monster, if it were real and not some new joke of those merry pranksters.  Lothair packed his belongings and resumed his journey to the dreaded Valley of Drollo.  

Along the way a scent greeted Lothair’s nose, a strange, unsettling scent. 

“What is that odor,” Lothair wondered out loud to himself.

“That’s Drollo, fool!”  A voice bellowed from the side of the road.

“Who’s there?  Who calls Lothair of Toyland a fool?”

“I do!  It is Hortun of the Underplace who calls you a fool.”

“Underplace?”

“Yes, it is the dwelling of the gnomes.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” Lothair roared with laughter.  “Underplace!  How clever?  How did you ever come up with THAT name?  Wow!  Underplace!  You should all be given a special…”

Suddenly, Lothair was hit in the mouth with a wad of thick horseshit.

“Keep it up, pal, and you will be known as Lothair the Loser, as you shall have lost your ball sack!”

“Alright!  Alright! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend—but you did call me a fool.”

“Well, anyone who doesn’t recognize the smell of the dragon must be a fool, or else he be doomed.”

“Doomed?”

“Yes, for the Drollo will swallow you whole.”

“I must see this dragon.”

“I warn you, you’d better be very careful.  Few survive a visit with Drollo.  May I offer a word of advice?”

“Surely.”

“Do not believe anything he tells you.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, that is easy enough.”

“You would think so, but he is a clever monster who knows how to trick you into his lair.”

“I will not be fooled by a dumb animal.”

“An attitude of that kind will surely get you eaten, Lothair the Doomed.”

“Very well, I shall be careful.  Thank you dear gnome, whose name is Hortun.”

“My name is Winkie.”

“But you just said,

“I lied.  See how easy it is to fool you?”

“Well, thank you Winkie, I hope we meet again.”

“I hope so too, traveler, but I doubt we will, as you will be no match for Drollo’s cunning.”

“Not only will we meet again,” Lothair added, “but I will bring with me one of Drollo’s teeth.”

The gnome stared in utter disbelief.  He thought Lothair mad for sure.

And so, Lothair armed with new knowledge headed into Drollo’s Valley.

“Mmmm…what is that smell?  New meat that is unknown to me.”

Drollo raised his head to find the origin of the scent that so struck him. He spied Lothair.  “And who are you, young man?”

“It is I, Lothair of Toyland.”  Lothair stood on a tall rock well up the side of the hill that with several other hills encased Drollo in his lair.  Now he understood why so few had escaped and that Drollo himself could never. 

“A visitor!  Come friend, and make my acquaintance!”

“I will stay here for the moment if you don’t mind.”

“I do.  This is my home, and I wish you to be my guest.  Here I have all manner of fruit and vegetables to share with you.”

“I thank you, but here I will stay.”

“Ah, I understand now.  You have heard vicious rumors about me.  That I eat all who visit me, and that you must stay away.  Alas!  It is my curse!  And I spend a lonely life trapped in this valley!  Alas!  Boo-hoo! They are all jealous of me and have conspired to force me to live a life of lonely isolation in this dreary valley.   Boo-hoo!”

If he is lying, thought Lothair, then he is truly the most skilled liar he had ever seen.  Lothair actually felt pity for him.  But not enough to trust him.

“Dragon sir!  Please do not weep!”

“Oh, I shall never have friends.  No one will believe that I mean no harm.”

“Suppose there were a way to prove yourself to me?”

“What?  Tell me—anything—I shall do anything to prove myself.”

“Suppose you let me come down to the valley and do not eat me and let me go my way.”

“Excellent idea.”  Drollo began to salivate in anticipation of this meal.

“Better yet!  I will enter your mouth, sit on your tongue and you will not eat me, and let me walk out!”

“Even better idea!” This was too easy, thought Drollo.

“Fine!  Let me just remove my poisoned berries from my sack…”

“Poisoned berries?”

“Oh, yes.  Everyone in my village must carry poisoned berries. It is the law.  But don’t worry.  I’ll remove them.  Now, where did I put them…?” 

Lothair began searching and searching his packs and could not find them.  Of course, he couldn’t for they did not exist.  What the gnomes did not realize was that while Drollo lied beautifully and prayed on the gullibility of others, none were as gullible as Drollo, himself.  And so, Lothair, acting without doubt that he was carrying poisoned berries convinced Drollo of such, without a doubt.

“Oh, well, no matter. I should not be without them in any case.  If it were found out that I removed them, I would be in grave trouble.”

“Poisoned berries?”  Drollo repeated.  The dragon was beginning to sweat.

“Yes, very powerful, created by the Great Merlin himself.”

“Great Merlin?”

“Yes, the Sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer?”

“Oh, yes, he specializes in poisons of the most powerful kind.”

“Most powerful kind?”

“Come now, since you will not eat me, you will have nothing to fear. Now, open up and let me in.”

“This may not be the best way to…”

“I will be your friend forever.”

“I…I…” By this time Lothair was eye to eye with the large beast and began tapping on his nose.

“Come on, come on, open up!  Let’s go!” 

“Okay.  But be careful.  I don’t want any poisoned berries in my mouth.”

“Don’t worry, they are very secure.”

Slowly, Drollo opened his large mouth.  Teeth the size of Lothair hands sparkled in the light.  It was a frightening sight.  But Lothair continued his game unflinchingly.

He jumped up into the dragon’s mouth. 

“Uh…uh…be careful!” the dragon uttered, almost unintelligibly—the sweat was pouring profusely down his face.  He began trembling with nervousness.

“Okay, that’s long enough.”

“Why the rush?” Lothair reached for club he was carrying in his shirt. “I’m feeling very comfortable in here.” 

In one motion, Lothair clubbed one of the dragon’s teeth, and jumped from his mouth. The dragon barely felt the pain.

“Oh, so sorry, but I think I may have dropped several of the berries.”

“Whaaaaaaa?” shouted Drollo, who began spinning in circles.

“I have poisoned berries in my mouth!  Help!  What can I do?”

“Don’t worry.  Run over to the stream and drink as much water as you…”

In a flash, Drollo was drinking at the stream, and Lothair was up the side of the mountain, his prize tooth in hand.

“Farewell, my new friend,” Lothair shouted. “Don’t be surprised if you have very loose bowels for the next few days.

“Mmrmrmgh…slurp…slurp…”

Poor Drollo drank so much he almost drowned himself, but so sure he was that he had ingested poison that he had diarrhea for three days.

And so, Lothair returned triumphantly to town, dragoon’s tooth in hand, to the praise and tribute of all, I among them, shouting, “All hail, Lothair!  Hail the great Lothair!”  Thanks to Lothair safe trade routes to the east were determined and our village prospered and grew beyond any of our most reasonable expectations.

Hail Lothair, the Great!

I, Sigurd, King of Toyland, greet you!

All Hail, Lothair!  Lothair, the Great!