A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday sat at a table in the inn while the serving-girl poured his drink.
The door opened.
“I am Inquisitor Johann Bohann-Bohann pükel-man Because Everyone Loves Tolkien Too Much So They Name People Like This Beren Luthien Keep Your Eyes Out For Fake Galadriels Because They’re The Worst,” announced the newcomer. “My identity, however, is secret. Tell no-one.”
He surveyed the room.
“I seek A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Breezy Tuesday. Has anyone seen him?”
The serving-girl looked at her lone patron, thinking that he might be more of a patron than previously thought, if she played her cards right.
“No,” she said. “There is nobody by that name here.”
The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes.
“What is your name, girl? If I find you’ve lied to me, you will pay.”
She lowered her gaze and adjusted her bodice.
“I am Meghanickle The Serving-Girl Who Somehow Caused the Town Fathers To All Suffer a Similar Malady At the Same Time Causing Them to Have To Seek Medical Care Before Having Relations With Their Wives Before It Spread Further and Pay No Mind to the Business with the Miller’s Sons Although In Fairness Only Two of Them Required Treatment with the Berry of the Moonlily from The Lost Lake That is Actually Right Over There Beyond Yon Tree, and—”
A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday finished his drink.
“—Daughter of Mennickle Whose Business With the Goat Was Never Proved Despite What Everyone Says, and Former Companion to Three of the Miller’s Sons Although, As Previously Established, Only Two—”
A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday set upon the table the Famous Gold Piece Struck From Gold Mined in the Grand Mine of Oh Golly Who The Heck Cares and walked out.
“—Required Serious Treatment, Which Was Really Their Own Fault Because—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Inquisitor Johann Bohann-Bohann pükel-man Because Everyone Loves Tolkien Too Much So They Name People Like This Beren Luthien Keep Your Eyes Out For Fake Galadriels Because They’re The Worst. “I’ll remember all that.”
He ran outside.
He caught A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday at the edge of the village.
“Halt, thou miscreant, thou villain, thou… something!”
A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday drew the Sword Forged By Agragag The Hyperborean Orthogon of the Tribe of Hellanitorians Who Fought A War With the Hellenirarians Because People Kept Getting The Tribes Mixed Up But Then Both Tribes Reconciled Because They Realized That A War Over Foreign Pronunciation Of Their Names Was Stupid Because The Hellanitorians’ Name For Themselves Was Nevetim And the Hellenirarians’ Name For Themselves Was Goriitians So There Was No Actual Confusion, Once Borne By Horcutus Who Fell Off His Horse And Died A Pretty Meaningless Death and Was Eventually Purchased Cheaply by A’lak^lakñoghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday as Part of a Barter Nobody Thought Worth Recording Until Now.
“Behold!” he cried. “I bear the Sword Forged By Agragag The Hyperborean Orthogon of the Tribe of Hellanitorians Who Fought A War With the Hellenirarians Because People Kept Getting The Tribes Mixed Up But Then Both Tribes Reconciled Because—”
He stopped.
“Oh, forget it. I’ve got this sword right here. Indefinite articles are fine. Let’s fight.”
They fought, hacking and slashing quite dramatically, hither and yon, cuirasses and pauldrons doing what cuirasses and pauldrons and things of their ilk have famously done as told in tales uncounted because nobody would want to count them, the number would be meaningless. If you want a number, reader, fine: four hundred and ninety-eight.
In the end, the Inquisitor fell.
A’lak^lakño-ghosn’banastanistanisghanastan, Slayer of The Dragon That Woke Up One Day And Decided To Conquer Not Only the Village Monghanayarglebargle But The City of Gar And Maybe the Field of La’saña By Sticking A Spear Down Its Right Nostril On a Bright And Windy Tuesday looked at the body of his fallen foe.
Then at the grass beneath it.
“Oh, crap. Someone’s going to name this too.”
He pointed at the ground.
“Here, people: IT IS A FIELD.”
And left it alone.