Chapter Thirty-Five

Quen Nim Decrees

The feast was brought on. Burly wenches rushed out trestles to support rushed out table tops. The clatter, pound and scrape of assembly were brief, and the completed assembly was followed by the rushing out of a hundred benches. The kitchen staff flowed into the courtyard with trenchers of delicacies piled high. There were ladgecakes and compotes of gadapple or palmpear and oat crumbles and oat puree soup and various melons, striped or spotted, and pies of every variety, handheld to full platter rounds, and Clover honey in vats, buckets or urns. There were goblets and goblets splash full of mollywater and carafes of elvian dew for the younglings. All of these things were slammed on the tables, and the citizenry was invited to be seated by the newly confident and proud Kig Zootch. The citizenry flocked to the benches eagerly, and were forced to hold ‘emselves in check while waiting for the Royalty to descend from the marriage scaffold. Rindle Mer, Jay Dot, Lady May, Old Dabber, Zootch and Nim took their places at the Most Royal Table. And when they had done so, Kig Zootch shouted, “Eat!”

Crunching, swallowing, biting, slurping, sipping, the jingling of the bells on the hats of the Fools, and the low rumble buzz of conversation were the noises heard filling the courtyard. Some of the sights which could have been seen were: hollowites entertaining hutters with agile tongue acrobatics; craggers snaking their spidery hands to a sudden snatching of melons; burly wenches consuming pies two and three at a time; sculgers scurrying to refill goblets; Fools balancing spoons on their noses or crossing their eyes; Rindle Mer arguing angrily with the ripples formed by a laughing wind on her puree oat soup; Quen Nim leaning to whisper into Kig Zootch’s ear, and Kig Zootch nodding yes.

What had Quen Nim whispered to Kig Zootch? She informed him she would make the announcement after the ool. What announcement? Truth, all about the Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Days to be established as a new snapjaw Boad tradition. So such, when all citizens and visitors were sagging stuffed, and more groans than slurpings were heard, Kig Zootch stood.

“Bring on the ool!” he commanded.

Bowls and bowls of ool were brought forth, and all of the ool was dreckulan, the finest. Pitchers of hoddle were passed around to spill on the dreckulan ool. Stuffed as they were, the citizenry could not let pass the rare opportunity to taste dreckulan ool spilled with hoddle. A humming of ‘Mmmmmm’ sounded unbidden from every throat at the very first tickle on the tongue. Sated, satisfied, happy, all sat limp in a sort of a serene blissful stupor. Such was the time when Quen Nim rose to address ‘em.

“Citizens of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined,” she began quietly, “all problems and troubles of daily strife have for this happy time been forgotten. Ye have a Kig with no ‘n’ at all and a Quen with only one ‘e’. New rhymes will be sung in hutter homes tonight. And I say to ye that there will be two new days of celebration.”

The snapjaw Nimby paused for the drama and allowed the citizens to look around one at the other and wonder.

“Yes, twice a year, any problem, any mystery, any riddle, any puzzle, ridiculous or other, that any of ye are struggling with will be personally solved by me and my snapjaw mind,” she continued. “These days shall be called The Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Days.”

Pause. Murmurs. “There’s a thing.” “Snapjaw mind.” “I’ve got problems.”

“On each of these days, a feast comparable to the magnitude and splendor of this one will be provided.”

Pause. Murmurs. “NOW I couldn’t eat another bite, but in two days …” “I’ll just take one nibble of everything next time.” “I can’t think about food now.”

“And so … good-bye.”

Pause. Murmurs. “Good-bye?” “Good-bye?” “Goodbye?”

“I leave ye with your Kig. And when I return it will be the first glorious Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Day!” concluded Quen Nim.

She shimmered to green mist and ascended as a cloud up over the walls of the Castle Boad. Motty checked her pocket for truly the fortieth time to make certain the silver cape and the red vest and pantaloons were safely there. She jumped up to flap her stubby yellow wings in preplanned pursuit of her Nimby Nim.

“And that brings us to the end of today’s festivities,” announced Kig Zootch. He rose and bowed four times, once in each direction. He strolled majestically to disappear through the doors of the Great Hall.

Pause. Murmurs. “But?” “I was …” “If it’s …” “How?” “Huh?”