The older Marmite children continued to enjoy university life. Fion sung, danced and drank the nights away, astounding all who saw her with the non-human strength of her liver. Her twin, Frodo, however considered a night he spent on the floor a good night because it’s better than spending one in a skip. His devotion to his sister lead him constantly into trouble because,you see, he is a total lightweight.
It wasn’t long before the younger twins left their emotional parents and joined their older siblings at Shiz, Gotham’s finest –and only- University. Firenze remained much the same as ever, looking to the skies, the stars and, of course, The Quibbler.
Farnsworth wasted no time in dazzling her professors with her scientific ability and was soon awarded her own research grants as well as a lab she worked in with two colleagues. It was only a matter of time, however, before her brilliance attracted animosity from jealous peers; in particular, Ogden Wernstrum.
Wenstrum had hated Farnsworth since their first Astro Physics class together in which, whilst Farnsworth had achieved an A*, Ogden had merely gotten an A-. Infuriated, he had demanded that his grade was changed but Professor Cubert had simply replied “Penmanship counts.” Ever since, he had interfered with her experiments, challenged her theories and done whatever he could to aggravate her.
But Farnsworth had a plan, a devilish plan. Her latest project was so astounding that it had been fully funded by the University and backed by two world renowned scientists whom she would work with including the infamous Dr. Frank Insane. She cackled hysterically. “This will outshine Wernstrum once and for all...”
Whilst his sister contemplated her delicious revenge, Firenze panicked about his more that slightly sticky situation. In his much beloved magazine, he had read an article that explained how the boundaries of the world were weakening and consequently things were crossing the divide. Faery sightings had skyrocketed and Firenze, being both inquisitive and sweet, was eager to welcome the new arrivals. Firenze remembered his grandmother Dobby leaving saucers of milk, often with a drop of brandy in them, out for the faeries. “Because Dobby knows what the faery folk want” And so, like a good boy, Firenze had done just that. He was half hoping that soon a delightful little sprite would ,in return for the milk, flutter around his room, dusting, doing his laundry and singing merrily- that was how it worked right?
WRONG. Faery folk were not as Firenze had been lead to believe- or at least the ones he had attracted weren’t. He’d expected pixies and he’d gotten pictsies. Later, after he had recovered from the incident he would get out his Magical Almanac (free with issue 4563 of The Quibbler) and identify the faeries he had met as Nac Mac Feegle.
which they call "the crawstep". (it’s all in the ankle)There appears to be no limit on what worlds they can cross into like this, including worlds that exist only in a person's imagination (although they can't use it to travel within a world - for this, we are assured, they have "feets"). The Nac Mac Feegle take pride in being able to get into, or out of, anywhere (although getting out of pubs presents something of a difficulty). There are numerous legends concerning them including: ‘if you leave sixpence and an unshod horse at a certain Feegle cairn overnight, then in the morning the coin will be gone, and you'll never see your horse again either.’ Despite their criminal tendencies, the Nac Mac Feegle do possess a sense of honour. They see no sport in fighting the weak. They may take one cow from a man with a herd of fifty; however, they will not steal an old woman's only pig, or an old man's only pair of false teeth. The fearlessness of Nac Mac Feegle warriors in combat is derived from their religious belief that they cannot be killed, because they are already dead; they believe that they are in the afterlife, and that any Feegle who is killed has simply been reincarnated. This is because a life so full of booze and battles cannot be one that just anyone is let into... The NacMacFeegle The Nac Mac Feegle (also known as, Pictsies, The Wee Free Men, the blue Men, 'Person or Persons Unknown, Believed to be Armed', and occasionally 'The Defendants') are a type of particularly drunken and unruly faery. The Nac Mac Feegle‘s skin appears blue because it is so heavily tattooed with woad. Often, darker tattoos are applied on top of this, as the effect is lost as they blur together. The tattoos identify a Feegle's clan. Wings or similar features of any kind are out of the question. All Feegle have red, usually tangled hair. They are notably strong and resilient, which comes in handy given that male Feegles (almost all of them) tend to be notoriously rowdy as a lifestyle. Feegle spend their time drinking, fighting and stealing, alone or in various combinations. Their preferred weapons are the boot and the head; this results in most Feegle’s noses being broken. The Nac Mac Feegle are often confused with pixies, because they refer to themselves as Pictsies. Whilst they have no real magical powers, The Nac Mac Feegle have an innate ability to cross dimensions,
However, at the time he had no idea what the strange blue men were and this – coupled with the fact that they were wholly naked- made the whole ordeal exceedingly alarming. Firenze had placed the saucer of milk outside the back of the building and turned to walk away. But after just a few seconds an angry clamour arose from behind him. He wheeled around to find the two strangers inspecting the milk. “Rob! I cannae believe it! S’only coo drink!” cried the bulkier, neater haired figure. “Crivens! The bigjobscunner!” exclaimed the other who seemed to be in charge for as he cried:
“Nae king! Naequin! Nae laird! Nae master! We willnae be fooled again! Nac Mac Feegle whahae!” Firenze was set upon in a blur of blue and red and promptly blacked out. Had Firenze known that there were Feegle in the area, he would have a left a crate or two of hard liquor outside rather than a saucer of milk. There was another legend about the Nac Mac Feegle that said: ‘if you leave a saucer of milk out for the pictsies they'll break into your house and take everything in the drinks cabinet.’ Which they did. Fortunately for Firenze, his sister Fion was blamed for the damage and, since she couldn’t remember what she did the night before and it seemed like something she would do, she happily paid for the destruction. But now that Firenze knew there were real live faery folk in the area, he couldn’t just let it go.
Using his spectrespecs, Firenze managed to track down the Feegle and found them in a picturesque little park. “There you are!” he cried cheerfully.
“Rob, s’thatbigjob and he’s looking verra suspicious like.” “No wait!” Firenze interrupted, eager to avoid another beating. “Please listen to me. I want to help you...And I brought you alcohol!”
“Well then! ‘Sa different matter altogethaa!” The strong look of distrust on their faces instantly dissolved and they threw open their arms to Firenze...to receive the booze.
Firenze had decanted to booze into water bottles in order to keep it safe from Fion. The Feegle eyed it suspiciously...before downing their bottles in one.
Once this was done, it seemed that Firenze had earned their trust for introductions began. The Nac Mac Feegle have a superstitious fear of their names being written down lest their names appear on unwelcome legal documents. This has been exaggerated to the point where merely knowing the name of a Feegle gives one a devastating amount of power. Feegle are often heard to cry “They've got oournames! It's the pris'nhoose for us!”
“May I introdoos, Big Yan, a mighty warrior an’ fierce friend.” said the messy haired pictsie. “He oonce singlehandedly stoole 50 coos from under the Fae Queen’s verra noose in jus one night withooutwakin’ a single of her Sidth hounds.” Big Yan smiled, spat on his hand and offered it to Firenze who nervously shook it. “An’ I,” continued the Feegle. “ Am Rob Anybody, the Big Man of oour clan which sadly noowcontensoonly Yan an’ meself since we were brutally exiled by the aforementioned Fae Queen.” “On account o’being political radicalists” added Yan helpfully. “Noow, “continued Rob. “Bigjob friend Firenze, I’m boggin’ fer a drink!”
Firenze decided to call Ysabell and Mort, who surely had to deal with this sort of thing everyday. But whilst they waited for their arrival, Firenze explained the function of clothing in this world and suggested that Yan and Rob put on the clothes he had brought for them. Eager to a have a successful life in this strange new world, they agreed. “Mort? I need your help...And bring booze... Pictsies...No not PIXies! PICTsies! ...As in fierce, ancient Celtic tribe.... Oh look it up!... Yes I’m serious!... Just get over here!... Oh let me speak to Ysabell!”
Firenze waited obediently behind some trees whilst the Feegle grappled with “thacompliketedfast’nins!” The Feegle were not at all taken by the idea of shirts claining that “we cannae wear ‘em! They’d make us look like bunties!” By which they meant, in layman's terms: sissies. However, the jeans went down a storm as the Feegle were impressed by both the hardiness of the fabric and their stylish cut. This was all the evidence they needed to conclude that this world was truly full of wonders and they would be very happy here.
“Oh my chocolate fudge brownie.” Mort and Ysabell stood in the glade, mouths hanging open in utter disbelief.
Neither of them had believed Firenze. Mort, despite his daily dealings with vampires, werewolves etc, firmly did NOT believe in faeries and Ysabell had known Firenze long enough to not take him too seriously. But here before them, drinking heavily, stood two, blue, pointy eared men straight out of ancient folklore.
“What are we going to do?” cried Mort. “The same as we do for all the other magical/occult folk.” replied Ysabell, smiling at Mort’s look of panic. “we’re going to help them settle in and make sure they’re ok now that they’re in this world.” “but we CAN’t! It’s not like we don’t have enough to do already!” he insisted.
“I think you’re just annoyed because you were so sure that faeries didn’t exist.” “Well these are hardly Tinkerbelle!” “But faeries none the less and I’m sure this falls under our job description.” “but-” “we keep the peace between downworlders right? Well if these two don’t count as downworlders then what are they? Think how much trouble they could cause, even accidently! “Ordinary folk are beginning to accept witches, wolves and vamps. There’ll always be trouble brewing but that can’t be helped. But faeires? This will come as a big shock and I don’t think these two will be the last. We have to make it go as smoothly as we can.” Mort looked into her kind but determined eyes and realised just how lucky he was to have Ysabell..as a partner of course. He relented.
“ok.” he began “I think I know a place that’ll suit you boys just great and we can start planning what we’re going to do next from there. And so they travelled to The Leaky Cauldron.
They arrived to find Fion (who had been barred from pratically every other pub, bar, restaurant and off license in Gotham) settling a disagreement with a vampire of unsavoury character. “Bang went saxpence! Yerwillnae be hootin’ tha’ yerscuggan!” Rob Anybody and Big Yan were quite astounded by her.
“I cannae believe it Rob! She’s got ‘the knowin’ o’ the speakin’!” “Aye Yan! But that’s no hag.” “I ken, I ken. She’s a feegle right Rob?” “Aye, an’ a female too with no tattoos Yan!” “so she’s got noo clan Rob!” “aye, an’ if we’re ta settle in this world we’ll be needin’ a keldata start tha clan.” “But are ye sure she’s up tatha job Rob?”
Just then, Fion herself walked over, placed a tray of drinks on the table behind her and proceeded to down them quickly. One... by one...
Until all of the glasses were empty. (roughly 2 minutes) Rob’s mind was made up, but seeing that she was clearly a lady of unparalleled quality, he went to speal to ‘bigjob friend Firenze’ first.
“Firenze!” he began eagerly “Tha magnificent girl oover there,” he pointed. “what doo ye call her?” Firenze looked. “Fion? My sister?”he asked in surprise. “Fion! A well choosen traditional name for a Feegle of such quality.” “Wella actually this is an alphabetacy and-” began Firenze. “Ne’er mind tha.” interrupted Rob. “Doo ye think she wou’ join oour clan an be oourkelda?”
“Fion? Your kelda?!” Firenze thought back to what the Almanac had to say about the Nac Mac Feegle. Nac Mac Feegle possess a eusocial culture similar to bees, termites and other social insects. The clan is made up of hundreds of brothers, and one mother, called a kelda. When a Clan's kelda dies, another is imported from a different clan. Daughters are very rare and, on coming of age, leave to become kelda of another tribe, taking some brothers, probably including a gonnagle (see below) with her. The role of the kelda is, essentially, to do the thinking. The Big Man is responsible for commanding his fellow Feeglesand trying to maintain some semblance of order, but in truth the kelda decides what will be done and the Big Man who works out the fine (for a Feegle plan) details-although no Big Man shown so far would go on a serious expedition and not bring along the clan gonnagle (who tend to be much brighter than the other Feegle and have a fund of lore, stories, and ideas they can draw upon). Male Feegles are in dread of losing their kelda because there will be no one 'tae take care o' us'. The males of the clan don't question the kelda, accepting that keldaring is full of secrets (hiddlins) they aren't expected to understand. They are warriors, hunters, and foragers; Nac Mac Feegle foraging consists of taking anything that isn't nailed down (and taking the nails as well if it is). Among the warriors of each clan is a gonnagle, or war-poet, whose job is to create terrible poetry that is recited during battles to demoralise the enemy...
“I’m not sure that you understand. Fion’s not-” Firenze began but was soon interrupted. “Ach, becoose ye arr her broother ye arrafearedtha she will no’ be tak’n care oof.” He said awfully knowingly for someone who thinks that a brother and sister can be a different species.
“I swear a geas,” which Firenze recognised as an oath of sorts “te Firenze Bigjob, tha Fion will behtreat’dwi’ tha full honour of a kelda” he said solemnly. Firenze knew that Fion didn’t need him to worry about her; she could take care of herself. Feegle only swore geas on matters of upmost importance and would hold to them. The two did seem like a pretty good, although insane, match for each other. He agreed to introduce them and put in a good word for Rob as soon as he had explained exactly what Rob was asking her.
However, it turned out that the good word wasn’t really needed and Fion seemed positively thrilled by the lifestyle of drinking, fighting, stealing and being worshipped by an entire clan of fierce blue men that was being offered to her.
She agreed to- what was effectively a marriage proposal- in a happy casual way and added “Crivens man! Aryagonna get yerkelda a drink or what? I’m boggin’ for one oover here!” “I think I’m gonna be verra happy in this world.” smiled Rob.
Firenze was surprised to find Big Yan reading one of his magazines and when questioned he simply replied. “The clan’s gonna need a hoome. Arr there any nice burial mounds we can live under?” “Erm... How about a house?” “A hoose could work too.”
“I told you faeries were real.” Ysabell smirked “ Yeah, yeah.” Mort took a swig from his glass smiling happily.
It wasn’t long before the evening became an alcohol fueled frenzy.
Zombie Tom lead the smustling and even taciturn shadowhunter Mort joined in... Or tried to anyway.
Rob Anybody and Fion fell in love with the astonishing ease that makes simmers breath a sigh of relief and were officially engaged after just 3 hours of knowing each other. – some things are just meant to be. Almost as if someone had planned it... *shifty eyes*
Elsewhere, something far more understated but equally romantic and arguably sweeter was happening. Mort took Ysabell’s hand and confessed how much he enjoyed working with her and just how much she meant to him including all the really soppy stuff he would never have admitted without alcoholic assistance.
And the shadowhunter team FINALLY did what everyone- including a particualryperseptive vampire they had arrested for draining innocents- had been begging them to do for months.
Frodo stopped by Farnsworth’s rooftop lab to pick her up for lunch but she had one more thing she needed to check with Dr. Frank Insane before they left.
“Experiment 394 is nearly ready” Frank said “Just that one issue that we had before...”
Frodo took a stroll around the lab and stumbled across an exceedingly tall laser of some sort. Suddenly Farnsworth’s other colleague appeared and seemed eager to explain the device.
“Aha!” the strange man cried “You are intrigued I see. Let me present: The Giant Death Ray! Behold!” and with a loud whirring noise, the laser leapt into life and a violent green beam was produced. Frodo shielded his eyes from the glare. “And now! Watch as I place this tin of peaches in the path of the beam!” he pressed a series of buttons and a mechanical arm lowered the can into position. Fodo flinched and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for a bang but all that he heard was... BEEP
“the price of those peaches has been electronically obtained and stored in the memory banks of the device!” he said excitedly. “Oh,” breathed Frodo in relief. “what else does it do?” he asked nervously. “Well,” he smiled devilishly. “if I increase the power of the beam,” Frodo got nervous again. “It could perform corrective eye surgery!”
“So umm...” Frodo was a little disappointed. “ Is that all The Giant Death Ray does?”
“Yes! This is the invention that will make me famous! Mwahaha!” “Um, one question Doctor?” asked Frodo “Doctor Death” he replied “Well my question is Doctor Death, why exactly is this device called the Giant Death- oh. Right.”
“Are you coming to the gig tonight Farnsworth?” asked Ariel. “Come on!” said Fiyero. “It’ll be fun!”
“My hip hurts! I’m in the middle of cooking a turkey! I have warranty cards to fill out! I’m not just making excuses! Alright I’ll go!”
Things were going well for Troll in The Dungeon and they’d been signed for several tours next year. There can be no better way of knowingIn a world beyond controllingAre you going to deny the saviourIn front of your eyes? Stare into the nightPower beyond containingAre you going to remain a slaveFor the rest of your life?Give into the night THE NIGHT- DISTUBED
Everyone had a great time that night and Fion and Frodo met up with their great,great,great,great aunt Arabella who, strangely, is one of their drinking buddies.
Fiyero proposed to Ariel that night on the stage at the end of their set. When she said yes he leapt into the crowd and they had a good old smooch. It wasn’t such a great night for Screaming Lord Thomas who was scammed by the infamous Unsavoury Charlatan.
When the bacnd finished the twins decided to keep the atmosphere going. There were nine there were seven there were three and then oneListen up all you hobbits while my tale is spunNine kings ensnared, nine kings on the runShout "Fear! Fire! Foes!" cause the shit has begun Frodo of the nine fingers straight from the fireI'm the baddest motherfucker from the land called shireWhen I step into the room MCs expireWanna battle me me you're an orc-faced liar ~Lauguage apologies~ Lordoftherhymes.com
After returning home, Farnsworth checked in on experiment 394.
They had captured this strange creature and were working to make it super intelligent with daily therapy and engineered brain food. So far things were going well, but the creature was starting to whine about his ‘technically horrific’ life and the ‘moral implications’ of what they were doing.
But Exp 394 had more visitors that night. An incredibly tipsy Frodo had made the mistake of showing Fion how to get to the lab and she had seen the creature and decided to free it.
Being totally trollied, Frodo found the idea hilarious.
But he snuck away all the same to avoid blame. One swift kick and a couple of the special punches her Feegle fiancé had taught her and exp 394 was free!
In the morning all that was left was a note addressed to Farnsworth. Thank you for the kindness you showed me, however rare it was, but I cannot live like this anymore. The intelligence you have given me will no doubt make my life far easier. “Oh how could he!?” she sighed I know that you had hoped that I would one day join you in your research but I have decided to turn my back of science. I’m going to business school. “NOOOOOOO!”
“WHY DIDN’T I BREAK HIS LEGS?!”
Mort and Ysabell had decided to investigate the spot where the Nac Mac Feegle had first entered this world. Whilst only they could travel between worlds as they liked, it would take only a small amount of magical ability to enter this one now that the borders were so thin and weak. “Here!” said Rob triumphantly.
Firenze no longer seemed like such a loon so they too had invested in spectrespecs.
“Mort, I think I have something over-” Ysabell was cut off as a flash of light rendered the company temporarily blind.
“Crivens!” “what the-” “Mort?!” “Oh Wailey! We’re in trooublenoow! ”
When they regained their sight, they saw two strange female figures crouched on the ground- and they were unmistakably not human.
The grey/blue figure, who was damn close to the widespread concept of a faery apart from she was far taller, didn’t seem impressed with the sight that met her. “Urgh, great. THIS is where we’re stuck now?”
“Uh oh” said Ysabell sneaking a glance at an idignant Mort. “NO!” he cried “More? Really? I mean what ARE they?”
Ysabell approached the arrivals and introduced herself and Mort, explaining their position and that they were happy to help in any way they could. The green woman introduced herself as Finduilas, an elf who had been forced to leave her homeworld. She, with her friend Ailsa (a pixie) were hoping to find refuge here.
“Ach! Ye cannae stay here! We were ‘ere first!” shouted Big Yan. “ There’s plenty of room! This is Big Yan and Rob Anybody; they’re starting a clan in this world” explained Ysabell “they were exiled because they rebelled against-”
“Oh!” cried Ailsa “that’s what they told you is it? They were THOWN out for being drunk and disorderly!” “I dunnae ken what yer on aboout,” mumbled Rob “We were genuinely thrown out for rebelling.” she continued. “So if any one is leaving-” “NO ONE is leaving.” inisted Ysabell. “But you’re going to have to get along.”
“Bloody pictsies” grumbled Ailsa. “Pixies; bunties the lot of ‘em” said Yan under his breath “What?” she cried “Nothing!” rob smiled “Wee soouthernshites...”
Ysabell left Mort to prevent the imminent scuffle and continued to explain her plan to Finduilas. It seemed that it was now very easy for faery folk to cross into this world and whilst most wouldn’t want to, the ones who did would need help integrating. The Shadowhunters would set up a subdivision dedicating to helping faeries settle in Gotham and teaching them how this world worked. If they wished to pursue a traditional life, an area of the countryside would be set aside for them. If they wished to live ‘the Gotham dream’ then they would be taught how to use credit cards, telephones etc...
Although Finduilas seemed very enthusiastic, she thought that she should double check with her fiery companion. “Whilst you do that,” said Ysabell “I’ll go and fetch my cousin. He’ll have to be the one to give you a sort of introduction tour; there is soooo much for us to do now.”
“So,” Finduilas began. “do you think we can be happy here Ailsa? Although we don’t really have much choice any-” “Of course we can!” she giggled “It’s going to be great fun! You know, most of the people here can’t do ANY magic. I can’t wait to play with them.” “No Ailsa we have to-” but she was cut off as Ysabell returned. “This is Firenze Finduilas.”
Finduilas turned and, upon seeing Firenze, found her, usually proud, self blushing and fidgeting awkwardly. “Aiya,” she said before she could stop herself. She blushed further. “I mean- um,”
“oh! That’s hello in elvish right?” he beamed. “Yes! You speak elvish?” she asked in surprise “Well, only a little,” he confessed. “My sindarin’s ok but my quenya is appalling” Finduilas was staring at him with very big,very wide eyes. He felt himself blushing as he said. “Maybe you could teach me some more” “Ok,” she giggled. “ What would you like to know?” “Well, what would be really useful right now is : ‘be careful, there’s a UmgubularSlashkilter nest behind you.’” “What’s an UmgubularSlashkilter?” her eyes seemed to grow even wider.
“it’s an incredibly dangerous creature.” he replied. “You are clearly a very wise man.” she said solemnly. “I am so lucky to have you as my guide to tell me all about the dangerous of this world.” “You think I’m wise?” he asked in disbelief. “Most people think I’m stupid.” “How could you be when you know so much!” she was positively glowing now as she gazed at him in admiration. “Well,” Firenze suddenly felt very proud of himself. “You’ve got a point there. But what you really need to know about is nargles...”
They became smitten with each other very quickly. Finduilas thought that she had found the cleverest man in all of Gotham and Firenze truly had found the only person who believed his stories and heeded his advice. Ailsa was not impressed by their giggly, blushing, romance especially since Finduilas was supposed to be an elegant, dignified elf. But in time he reluctantly accepted it.
“And that constellation is Bobo, the giant fire breathing lizard that destroyed the ancient city of Rome.” Firenze explained “fascinating” she breathed in awe “oh! What’s that?”
“That’s a plumbbob. We all have them in this world.” “What do they do?” “Um, nothing much. They change colour sometimes and they even disappear for a while every so often.” “Wow,” she sighed. “I have so much to learn about this world.” “yes,” he agreed. “But I’ll always be around to help.” his face flushed. “If you like” he stammered.
She would like that.
I don’t know why Frodo is apparently asleep in these pictures. He was definitely awake but I couldn’t be bothered to work it into the story! Ailsa was not impressed. The ever mischievous Frodo saw this, and he also had a plan.
There would come a time when Frodo would regret teaching Ailsa how to play this prank.
But it wasn’t now. Ailsa signed him up as her new play mate; this world looked like a lot of fun.
Fist he showed her the classic ‘soap in the fountain’ routine.
Which was a BIG hit.
Next: the joy buzzer handshake. Ailsa giggled hysterically. “Good one Frodo! You’re hilarious!!!”
Ailsa leapt upon Frodo and took him by surprise.
It’s the fear and confusion in the eyes that I love best.
Frodo stared at her, unsure what to do. Should he hug her, kiss her, sweep her off her feet and- “What?” she asked in a puzzled voice. “PILLOW FIGHT!” she squealed.
“Come on!” she said, picking him up in one smooth motion. “let’s go and get trashed!” Frodo never woke up alone in a skip again.
This is the end! Which means I can FINALLY do the poll. Generation F has taken forever and ever and ever and ever! I thought I’d finish with this picture of Firenze being attack tickled by Fion and Ysabell. Thanks for reading.