Bently McQuinn Saves Literature

It was extremely dark for quite a while, and when Bently stopped feeling fuzzy, it was still dark. But there was an eerie screaming sound.

“Bently, get your wand out!” Pansy screamed, conjuring fire. In its light, Bently could see King protecting Meggie and Pansy waving her wand around. They were in a stone courtyard, and there were dark clothed figures all around them, screaming awfully.

“BENTLY!”

Bently fumbled in his pocket for his wand, and pulled it out, not sure what to do. Pansy chased off one of the figures. “Use Incendio!”

“Uh… uh, Incendio!” Bently yelled, and a few sparks flew out of his wand. He jumped, but then one of the figures came for him, and he got a better grip on his wand. “Incendio!” he yelled, and fire flashed out of his wand, catching the figure, who ran off, screaming. But they just kept coming.

“Expecto Patronum!” yelled Pansy, and a silver cobra flew out of her wand, striking the nearest figure. This seemed to be much more effective, and soon, they were gone, leaving only an echo of their freakish screams.

“What—what were they?” Bently asked, panting.

“Ring Wraiths,” Meggie answered shakily. “I knew I should have read us into a different section.”

“That’s fine, Meggie, it was probably a lot safer than getting put in Minas Tirith where the vampire is,” said King, cleaning his glasses with a shaky hand.

“Yeah, I doubt they’ll try and take Mordor for a while,” Pansy added. “Not bad, Bently, once you got your head out of your arse, anyways.”

Bently decided to just take that as a compliment. “Thanks. Awesome Patronus.”

Pansy nodded. “Alright, where to, King?”

“Well, we need to meet up with Faramir and Eowyn, correct?”

“Yeah, I think we’re supposed to meet up with them in Rivendell or Rohan.”

“Then let’s get on.”

So they set off down the hill, Pansy and Bently’s wands lit so they wouldn’t be completely in the dark.

“Is there any way we can avoid those things? It’s been a while since I read this book,” Bently asked Meggie.

“Well, they should just be after Frodo, if nothing’s been changed. Otherwise, they might be working for the vampire, and we’ll have a bit of a problem. Stephen?” she asked the older man tentatively. “Would there be any way you could write something that would keep them away from us?”

“No, but Bently could,” he said. “Let’s stop under those trees, and I’ll give you your first lesson, Bently.”

For a few minutes they were silent except for a few grunts and swear words when they stubbed their toes. Bently had a hard time keeping his eyes off the skies, where there were thousands upon thousands of stars, many more than he had ever seen in his world.

They finally reached the forest and stopped under a large oak tree. Pansy conjured a fire and some tents. “Food’ll be the only problem,” she said, making sleeping bags.

“That’s fine, we’ll manage until tomorrow,” said King, pulling the notebook and pen out from inside his coat. “Alright Bently, time to start this. Ready?”

“Ready,” said Bently, sitting down by the fire next to King. He wondered how on earth these writing lessons would go.

“Alright, so I guess, the most important thing will be finding your own style. It’s the thing most writers struggle with, and probably the most important thing. For instance, my own style is very blunt and realistic, and detailed. Your own style could be poetic, but the point is, it’ll be your own style, and no one else’s. Now, I want you to try and write us some food. Include where we are, how we feel, and what exactly we’ll be eating.”

“Um, alright,” said Bently, taking the notebook and pen King was offering him and flipped it open. It was completely blank. He uncapped the pen, and after a moment’s thought, began to write.

“Bently, King, Meggie and Pansy were crouching around the fire in the dark under a tree. It was cold, and they were hungry. But from inside her sleeping bag, Pansy found four sandwiches, and they all ate, happy to be fed.”

King read it over and shook his head. “You’ve got your ideas down, but give it more details. What kind of sandwiches? How cold is it? How dark? What’s the fire like? Anything you can think of.”

Bently nodded, and took the notebook back. This time, he wrote more carefully, trying to pack in as much detail as possible.

“Bently, King, Meggie and Pansy crouched around the fire, trying to keep warm from the biting cold. It was very dark out, but they could still see stars up between the branches of the tree they sat under. They were all four very hungry, but as Pansy reached into her sleeping bag, she found four turkey and cheese sandwiches, and they all ate, happy for some luck at last.”

King read it nodding this time. “Better. Let’s try it. Meggie?” He held the notebook out to her, and she read Bently’s new paragraph, her voice making the words float off the page.

When she finished, she asked, “Did it work?” Pansy shrugged, and reached her hand into her sleeping bag. To her astonishment, she pulled out four small sandwiches.

“Good, Bently. Very good,” commented King, accepting his sandwich. “You’ll need improvement to conjure a lot more than sandwiches, though.”

“So what’ll we do about the Wraiths?” Bently asked.

“If they come near us again, we’ll fight them off and you’ll have to write something that’ll counter whatever the vampire has cooked up.”

“Alright, that’ll work, I guess.”

Bently was the first one to fall asleep that night. All this go-go-going had made him more exhausted than he could ever remember. He wondered if every night would be like this before he finally drifted off to sleep.

-

The morning sun that filtered through the trees woke Bently up at what he thought was all too soon. He grumbled and rolled over, yawning and blinking rapidly. Pansy was perched next to the fire, making sure it was out, King was cleaning up the camp, and Meggie was still asleep.

“Rise and shine, McQueen,” said Pansy curtly. Bently frowned, but didn’t feel the need to tell her off. There were more important things to attend to, and he was to tired to do it anyways.

“Where do we need to head off to?” he asked King.

“Rivendell; Faramir is waiting for us there, and then we’ll continue on to Rohan and the Golden Hall.”

Bently nodded and got up, and his stomach growled. “Where’s the paper?” he asked King. King pointed to the top of his sleeping bag, and Bently picked up the notebook and pen. King was waking up Meggie as Bently began to write.

“The next morning, the sun shone brightly. When the four awoke, they discovered that someone had made them breakfast and brought it to them. Four plates of eggs and bacon where on the ground next to the traveling company, smelling like the most amazing food in the world you could imagine. The four ate in peace before setting off on the day’s journey to Rivendell, only ten miles away.”

“Hey Meggie, could you read this for me?” Bently asked the younger girl as she rubbed her eyes.

“Sure, Bently,” she replied, yawned, and then took the notebook and read his new paragraph. The smell of eggs and bacon soon filled the air, and King and Pansy looked up in surprise to see breakfast.

“Not bad, Bently,” commented Pansy. “Except, it’s hard to eat eggs without forks.”

Bently turned a bit red, realizing his mistake, but King just laughed. “Good try. Now, let’s eat and move on.”

The eating was a bit messy, but after about a mile of walking they found a stream and they washed themselves off. When they started moving again, Bently caught up and walked with Pansy.

“Hey Pansy, can you Apparate?”

“Yes, why?” she asked.

“Well, can’t you just Apparate us to Rivendell?”

“I would, but I don’t know where I’d be Apparating us to,” she explained. “I could end up with us in a wall, or one of us Splinched, or something else. I’m not going to risk that. Plus, this place’s magic is very old. I don’t know if I could get us all there in one piece.”

“How do you know it’s old?”

“I can just feel it. Do you feel drained after doing a lot of magic?”

Bently thought, then shook his head slowly.

“Well, I did. Last night, after I had to use my Patronus to scare off those Wraith things, I felt completely drained. That’s never happened to me at Hogwarts, so I figure it’s the magic laws kicking in.”

“Have you ever been outside your own world?”

“No, this is my first time. It’s really weird, this world. If they have magic, why do they have swords?” When Bently gave her an odd look, she said, “Meggie told me about this book last night while we kept watch.”

Bently nodded, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. Pansy… wasn’t acting like Pansy. She wasn’t snapping, being rude (most the time) or nasty. She was acting totally unlike anything he had ever read her acting like, and certainly different from the last time they had encountered each other. Last time, she had tried to feed him to the giant toad that was what had become of Professor Slughorn.

It took nearly all day for them to finally reach Rivendell. Bently discovered to his disappointment that Rivendell had not moved any closer, which was what he had tried to write that morning. 'Writing is a lot harder than I thought it was,' Bently commented to himself as they finally stumbled into the elf city in the fading sunlight.

But the sight of the city cheered him up considerably. It was beautiful, with its waterfalls and hundreds of groves of trees, and the buildings weaving in between the plant life just as easily as the water flowed down the cliff faces. A golden light cast everything in light shadows, and making the colours look even more real in a way. Bently followed King down the wide dirt path towards the buildings, where there were even more lights and a melodic laughter. This was one part in the book that he had remembered, and from what he remembered of the movie, this was even better than what Peter Jackson had created.

“Elves really live here?” Bently asked with wonder.

“Yes. Now hurry, I smell food,” said Pansy, and she picked up the pace.

Out of one of the structures came the man from the hall, Faramir, with his strawberry blonde hair shining in the dying sunlight. “King, Bently! There you are, we were beginning to worry, some of my scouts reported Wraiths nearby.”

King shook his hand. “Good to see you, Faramir. Is Elrond here? We haven’t eaten since this morning.”

As Bently’s stomach growled again, he wondered what they would get to eat. He didn’t remember what the elves liked to eat.

“Yes, right this way,” said Faramir, and he lead them through what could have been called a doorway but was really much more of a threshold or arch, because there was no door. The structures and nature had all become one in this city, and so Bently could never quite tell where building stopped and forest began.

They were lead into a great feasting hall where several tall, thin people were seated, talking, drinking, and laughing merrily. At the head of the table was a wise-looking elf, with long, dark brown hair and dark, perceptive eyes. Bently guessed that this was Elrond, and he was right, because King greeted him as such.

“This is Pansy, our guard, and Meggie, our Jumper,” King said, introducing the girls.

“And this must be Bently, the new master,” said Elrond, shaking Bently’s hand. “Welcome.”

“Thanks. I’m more of a master in training though,” Bently said, feeling humble. Though Bently couldn’t remember exactly how old Elrond was in the book, he knew the elf was very old, and could feel an aura coming from him, like Elrond knew just about everything that was worth knowing in this world.

“Come, sit and eat. You must be tired,” Elrond offered, and they all took seats at the table among the elves.

“Where did you come in, King?” Elrond asked once food had been served for the newcomers.

“Whethertop,” King replied. “And at exactly the wrong moment, too. The Wraiths were there, and we had a bit of a problem driving them off until Bently figured out he could actually use magic.” King’s sarcasm was dark, but in all essentiality, good-natured. “But we haven’t seen them since Pansy ran them off.”

“The vampire must have called them back,” said Elrond. Bently gave a bit of a start, and Elrond nodded. “Oh yes. He’s got armies massing at Minas Tirith. The Wraiths and all of Gondor are under his control, along with many of our heroes.”

“Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were taken over, and are now the personal guards of the vampire,” said Faramir a bit despairingly.

“Well then come on!” said Bently, fired up. “Let’s go kick his ass!”

“It is not that simple,” said Elrond patiently. “If they suspect that they will be taken back over, then the vampire will only flee. We must make them think they are winning, and then send them back into the abyss from whence they came.”

“A surprise attack?”

“Precisely.”

“But come on,” said Bently. He was getting really impatient. “When do we go attack them?”

“We head out tomorrow. But right now, it is most important to be rested well. You have a long journey still a head of you.”

-

Bently tossed and turned that night. He kept having odd nightmares that woke him up in a cold sweat, causing him to shiver in the mild night. In every one of them, there was a tall, pale vampire with a shaved head, blood spilling out of his mouth. And every time Bently got close to defeating him, he disappeared into the shadows, laughing, and then the scream turned into the Wraith’s scream…

-

It took three days on horses to finally reach Rohan and the Golden Hall. Bently was sore like the other three from riding for so long, especially after the first day. He honestly didn’t think he would be able to get back up on his horse, Eoryn, the other two days, but he did.

The city of Edoras was a simple one. Wooden buildings were very common, and Bently didn’t see more than a handful made with any sort of stone. There were just as many horses as there were people. And not just live ones; there were horses carved on the buildings, sewn into the cloths and banners, and imbedded in the armor. It was clear the strong connection these people had to their horses.

People gave them odd looks as they passed through the city and up the winding slope to the Golden Hall, which was at the top overlooking the valley. The wind whipped Bently’s rusty brown hair around his face, and he fought to keep it out of his eyes. The guards merely nodded at them as Faramir lead them inside.

There were yet more carvings and guards inside. At the end of the hall sitting on the high throne was the woman who had been in the Great Hall, Eowyn. Her long gold hair was flowing around her shoulders, and she wore a royally long dress of pale blue. A small gold crown sat on her head, and she smiled expectantly as they approached.

“At last, the heroes have arrived,” she said, standing. Everyone in the group either kneeled or bowed their heads, and Bently did the same.

‘She must be important,’ he thought.

“Hail, Eowyn, Queen of Rohan,” said Elrond. “What news from the Riddermark?”

“Much is brewing in the East, Elrond of Rivendell,” the Queen replied. “My brother is assembling the Rohirim, and we plan to ride to war tomorrow. We’ve let this go on for long enough.”

Bently admired her bravery. He could see the spark in her eyes, and he knew she fully intended on leading her army.

“Young man, what was your name again?”

Bently snapped out of his thoughts to find the Queen looking at him with interest. “Bently McQuinn,” he almost stuttered out. “I’m the—”

“Writing master, yes,” she said with a smile. “I was at the meeting. However, I did not remember your name. But now I shall. Are you ready to lead the attack against the vampire Emmett?”

Bently smirked, masking his nerves as best he could. “You bet I’m ready.”

“Then tomorrow, we ride.”

-

“Hey Bently.”

Bently looked up from the book he was reading to see Pansy standing next to his table. He set down Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone with a sigh.

“Hey Pansy.”

“It’s your turn,” she said, mentioning to her new armor. She wore chain mail and leather armor over her normal cloths, and a new dark green cloak. She also had a short dagger on her belt, and a special loop for her wand.

“I get some too?”

“Of course,” Pansy snorted. “You’re supposed to be our great hero, or something, after all.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bently spat back. He shoved his book in his bag and slung it over his shoulder, walking out into the cool of evening and towards the armory.

“There you are, Bently,” said another female voice, and Bently almost thought that it was Pansy again. But it was Meggie, her dirty blonde curls bouncing as she walked with him into the armory. “Are you nervous?”

“About what?”

“Well, tomorrow for one thing. I mean, battles can be pretty scary,” Meggie said kindly. “And for your fight against the vampire. Are you sure you can do it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve already killed one, haven’t I?” said Bently a bit defensively. “And I guess I’m nervous, but not really. It can’t be all that bad, can it?”

Meggie smiled slightly. “You’ll think that until you get there. It might just be me, but I didn’t think they would be that bad until I was in one myself, and now I really hate fighting. It’s so unnecessary.”

“Well, what about now? Do you think they should just lie down to Meyer’s every command?” Bently asked.

“No,” said Meggie, a bit nervous. “I mean, obviously there are times when you have to fight and they’re for very good reasons, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I think that we should try at least talking to her first…”

“Meggie, have you ever read one of her books or seen her fans?”

Meggie shook her head.

“Well, that explains it. Meggie, that lady is crazy, and her fans are worse. I got three of my fingers and my nose broken by some crazy chick who flipped out when I said I thought Twilight was crap. Reason isn’t going to work.”

Meggie bit her lip. “Well, you think what you like, and I’ll think what I like, okay?”

“Fine.”

Eowyn and her brother, Eomer, were the ones who found armor for the two teens. Bently ended up with chain mail and some very thick leather armor pieces. Eomer almost gave him a sword, but the Bently remember he had Gryffindor’s, and that’s the only one he would need. Eomer didn’t look exactly happy putting a younger kid in armor and weapons, but at least he gave him a belt with a wand loop, like Pansy’s. “Pray that it will be enough,” he said before sending Bently back to the Hall.

Bently adjusted the dark green cloak as he walked back. It was large, warm, and had a very spacious hidden pocket on the inside. He couldn’t help but feel like a badass in the cloak and armor. ‘At least if I die, I’ll go the right way.’

Wait. Had he really just asked that?

He ran the rest of the way up the hill to the Hall and into the room where they had put up King. He burst in to the candle-lit room, panting.

“King, King!”

King gave a small start, then turned around to face him. “What Bently?”

“What… what happens if we die here?”

There was silence except for Bently’s panting for a few moments before King answered him.

“From what I remember and understand, you’re sent to The Blank World.”

Bently gulped. “And… what’s that?”

“It’s like a void in the literary world. Unfinished worlds reside there, and it’s the source of writers block. When characters are killed, or people in our case, they are sent there. The only way out is if an author comes along a sort of… recycles their essence.”

“Reincarnation?”

“Exactly. But there’s no given time that someone could be in there. One character might get recycled right away, while another stays there for year and years. There’s just no telling.”

“So like… if I died, you could write me out again?”

“Not the exact same you. Your spirit, maybe, but not you in this form. Who knows what you would look and act like after you’ve been recycled. People, and characters, change in there.”

Bently stood there shivering for a moment. He really did not like this idea of the Blank World.

“What’re you working on?” he asked when he spotted the notebook and pen on the table, nearly a page filled with King’s cramped handwriting.

“I’m attempting the craft of story altering again,” King sighed, turning back to the notebook. “I’ve been story creating for so long that I’m having a bit of trouble with altering. We’re only going to be making a journey for a few hours, not days.”

“Will it work?”

“We’ll see in the morning.”