Gandwell: The

Legacy of the
Rings!
It was a cold stormy winter’s day, the year was 1122 of the 3 rd age- but that’s completely
irrelevant- I’m just watching all weather forecasts on the EBC archive. Gandwell was born on
the 15th of March, the only son (that they talk about) of Fradoc Norcross of the cheese and
Merwdda Gardner of Westmarch. He was an abnormal child, and his parents blamed this on
his meeting with Jonathunfun, the local travelling merchant, who caused quite a stir in the
Realm of Cheeseland. For you see; he founded the “Dr Moo” society which Gandwell found
fascinating, and he was quickly accepted into the ranks of the esteemed society. Jonathun, a
fond support of the labour for cheese party, filled Gandwell’s mind with tales of cheese, and
biscuits and apple pie, and cheesecake, and orange juice, and chicken and mushroom pie,
spaghetti bolognaise , croissants...though he hated the monthly treks and hikes that
Jonauthfun organized, he loathed even more the annual camp to the base of looming
mountain, Mount Boom (the local elf monks call it Onomatopoeia in the tongue of old), and
every year until he was of age at 45 he tried to get out of it.

I suppose Elf Monks need some description, as they’ve become so rare- they are rarely seen by men,
and tend to stay in their land of the Evenmark. They live in holes- holes left over from the last
apocalypse caused Moforth. Not beach like, sand holes, but yet not bare, earthy holes either. These
were Elf Monk holes; and that meant comfort! Elf monks tended to be large around the stomach,
but after the cheesestring famine of 1919, they moved back to a more healthy diet. That meant only
twenty meals a day (four breakfasts, 6 dinners, 6 evening meals, and four suppers) as well as
numerous snacks through out the day. It was tough, but the wiliness of the Elf Monks held them in
good stead. Elf Monks did do a lot of exercise though (excluding eating) so a large proportion of the
food was burned off. Literally. Metaphorically speaking.
Gandwell was very unadventurous- even for an Elf Monk- “Hey-remember when I walked to the post
office- right in the middle of the flu season!”

Fine. Gandwell was very unadventurous- even for an Elf Monk. Anything with more excitement than
going on a nice walk around the Cheeseland , was too exciting for him. He lived in the best house in
town, which his father had built for his mother; Lag end. But Gandwell was related to the famous
Belladonarkebab, who often went out on adventurous not to return till months, even years later.
Legend had it that her decedents sometimes mysteriously left (to go to the supplies store) returned
and then left again (they didn’t have any rope at Jims) only to return, and then to leave again (horse
insurance had expired) and then arrive back in Cheelsand at the crack of- well middle of the day.
THEN, and not before, they would leave and set of on some kind of dangerous adventure. After
every noble departure, a wave of adventurous feeling swept across Cheeseland- maybe adventure
weren’t that bad?! Most never returned- but if one did, bitten by wolves, half-drowned, missing a
few fingers and even more toes, most of the local population felt that their decision not to go on an
adventure, had been vindicated.

But Gandwell probably did get this remarkable gene, though you would have never guessed it. He
had never done anything unusual or remarkable, save perhaps the time where he helped the
bounders of cheese and help catch the infamous mutant cow; he made cups of tea for the thirsty
people trying to catch Grassy. But compared to the wonders that others had done and seen,
Gandwell had the most peaceful life imaginable. Nothing unexpected ever happened to Gandwell.

Another sun rose and covered the Evenmark, the pale light glinted of Gandwell’s tidy garden; and
the yet known changing wind swept the flowers to and thro. By mid morning Gandwell had already
finished two breakfasts. He was just tucking into a third, when he heard a loud knock on his door.
Gandwell rushed to the door, a la seeing your favourite person ever, and quickly rushed to open the
door. Standing tall stood a magnificent sight, Gandwell felt he was looking on an otherworldly King
of the first age. Keith had arrived!

“Um-Hi-Pizza?” said the noble tongue of Keith, deliver or Pizzas.

“Yes! That’s me!” Gandwell replied to the delivery boy of Pippin’s Pizzas.

Slowly Keith spoke. “Um-you see- slight problem...” Keith was trying to engage the madness of this
man, and how he would deal with the bad news that burdened the young man.

“Is there a problem? A problem that would make me fly into an unreasoned rage?” Gandwell
responded rather unsympathetically to the nervous Keith, for he was by now extremely hungry.

“No sir!” stuttered Keith without thinking.

“But you just said there was!” exclaimed Gandwell, stamping his feat at the boys consistency.

Keith decided that he better be honest; he hadn’t completed the course “Lying to Elf Monks” and
felt that this particular Elfmonk couldn’t be fooled easily. “Then again...” Keith thought to himself, as
Gandwell pulled out a magazine with the headline “Arwen and Arabarn- are they now together?! “I
give them two weeks!” said the optimistic Keith.
“ There’s a dark storm coming Gandwell. Be wary- the winds changing- the dark is all consuming. But
remember that light always prevails, and when in doubt on your perilous journey, just look up at the
shining jewels above our heads, and you’ll realized that the dark is just passing and infinity of light
dwarfs the evil of Evenmark.

Gandwell was thinking of the best way to deal with this madman. He guessed that he didn’t work for
Pippin’s Pizzas at all; he was just some loony. Gandwell decided that he would humour Keith, and
play along for a bit.

“Thanks for that Keith! Really inspiring words there- ever considered becoming a sinister fantasy
writer? You could you know...description like that...”

“Interesting you should say that...I’ve been doing a bit of writing..” Keith moved into talking about
his ventures into creating literature, while Gandwell blanked out. Keith continued “...working on
something called “Lord of the Rings...want to publish it under the pseudonym J.R.R Tolkien...” This
went on for quite some time until Keith, faced with the risk of getting punched by Gandwell, was
interrupted by the now very peckish Elf Monk.

“Sounds interesting...” Secretly Gandwell thought that this was the worst title of a book he’d ever
heard, and Keith’s ramblings about Hobbits, a wizard, some elves, well, reinforced his beliefs that
Keith was a madman.