Oh blast zese torn loyalties! A part of me wishes to see VDT on opening night, but a part of me wishes to wait a week to see it with me freind. On one hand it would not be fair to see it before me freind can...especially when we waited a week or two before we got to see Star Trek (which was truly amazing by the way, and ze movie makers zere were brilliant in terms of how to keep ze fans happy)...yet what if it does not open well...zen ze guilt of potentially harming ze chances of SC/MN being made shall haunt me... what shall I do... perhaps I shall by a ticket and give it to someone who would otherwise not see the movie... but I know not who to give it to...

Oh and hear ze noises again, but 'tis not coming from ze direction of ze lair...

Alas, I hath forsaken these halls of late! I have not lookethed upon any spoilereths. And thinkest, fellow Monks! Only 4 more days until our spoilereth freeness is repaid in full by satisfaction so greateth that the Spoiled Rotten hath never felt.

Keep strong, my fellow monkeths. Only four dayseth.

*thinks she used 'eth' a little too mucheth *

(At the foot of a mountain many miles from the Monastery)
*The dryad peereth into the very shiny magic mirror*

Welcome to monkhood, She who hath much love for the land of Narnia! Indeed, thou ist welcome here, and we art all glad that thee hath found refuge here as the Beatific Vision draweth ever nearer.

Illustrious Lady by name of Galadriel, thou art indeed a peerless researcher! If thou wast nearby, I shouldst giveth ye a high-five, but shall have to satisfy myself with smacking the magic mirror. Thy findings will indubitably be a great help in this quest! The questers are forever indebted to thee for thy contribution to this great and high-calorie undertaking.

Benign Marshwiggle, thy kind offer of smoked eel is indeed most tempting, but the transference of food doth not seem to be one of the powers of the magic mirror. (I hath already tested this. ) We thank thee for thy advice on how to deal with giants! We hope we wilt not need to put it into action, but one can never tell on a quest what one will happen upon.

Hello, Conversational Minion! It is good to see thee. If thou art fond of marshmallows, I hope ye wilt drop by the Monastery when we hath return from the quest, for we will doubtless be able to spareth a few.

*The dryad looks up from the very shiny mirror, and stashes it away in her knapsack*

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I must say I continue to be haunted by the wailings. And I am rather alarmed to say they seem to be getting louder every day, as we approacheth the wild mountain country, and cannot help but think that we are nearing the cause of them, whatever it may be.

Now, perhaps we couldst continue on our merry, monkish way and not happen upon the danger at all, but then we may risk an ambush. Nay, I am of the mind that it is better to go looking for this howling creature and know what we are about. So methinks I wilt make a short expedition up the mountain and see if I can find the origin of these weird wailings. I ask no one to cometh with me, for there may be danger, and it would not do to jeopardize the entire quest! For now, I bid all of ye farewell, and wish ye all good luck in the furthering of this good quest, and perhaps, should I not return, raise a mug of cappuccino to my memory.

*Very solemn goodbyes are exchanged, and the dryad slowly starts up the rocky eminence with doleful music ringing dramatically through the air, before she promptly trips over a stick. A short while later, she rises and turns, and her excited cries, intermingled with the strange sighing, are heard floating down the mountain. But they are cut short—she seems to lose her balance—and with a short scream and flailing arms, the dryad topples back and falls completely out of view*

*peers through the mirror the Rose Dryad somehow dropped in her fall* I shall go find her. *stashes the mirror securely in her sack and climbs down the precipice with her dog, aided by her leatherman and duct tape* *sighs* I think Etiteppa will beat me down. She seems to be much better at climbing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I must say I continue to be haunted by the wailings. And I am rather alarmed to say they seem to be getting louder every day, as we approacheth the wild mountain country, and cannot help but think that we are nearing the cause of them, whatever it may be.

Dear Dryad... ze Good Marshwiggle hath thought zat ze wailing maybe that of ze muntant muts who may have treed zeir Dark Lord somewhere. I hath not thought it was canine, but I could be wrong seeings how zey are muntant muts. If we do come across them and zis be ze case, I must admit I shall feel obligated to help him...

*Is currently getting a mighty kicketh from the awesome mental image of our High Reverend waterbending cappuccino* Methinks when I return from this good quest, I shall paint a mural of this pwnful vision on one of the Monastery's many hallowed walls.

And surely, o artful and amused Dryad, thou hast heard tell of the famous Five Elements?

Water [goosh, splash] ...
Earth [boom, kaboom] ...
Fire [ka-bam] ...
Air [whoosh] ...
... Caffeine!
[Glug-glug-glug-glug ...]

Whilst I art indeed practicing the sacred art of cappuccino-bending, having unblocked my chakra via the mystic and even more sacred (though easy) art of "forgiving mineself," it hath occurred to me that I hath not even yet taken my own Spoiler-Free Vows for the Order!

Herewith I now take these vows, with scarce five days to wait for the arrival of the Beautiful and Beatific Vision of the Film (blessed be it).

This vow I actually find from the distance past of the previous two institutions of this August Order, when it was founded, not in August, but in November of 2005 A.D. and in March of 2008 A.D.

For mine own self (yea, mineself alone, and not another), I now vow:

1. I shalt not partake into mine ears any echo of the soundtrack composed for the Vision; nor shalt I listen to any further clips of said musical composition.

5. When browsing in bookstores or other facilities of retail, I shalt not pick up nor glance upon, nor peruse more deeply, any of the story adaptations that doth not only offer more spoilers of the Vision, but simplify the wondrous original version of the Dawn Treader book itself, for alas, even more than the other pathways to spoilers I shalt avoid, that shalt be deemed a detestable thing to look upon, nay, an abomination.

7. My vow doth expire at least at midnight this coming Friday, in this very month of December, tenth of the date, in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Ten. Then I shalt likely behold the Beatific Vision and complete -- though it be slow to begin and after much struggle to see the Vision as Beatific and worth a struggle in the first place -- mine own pilgrimage.

Be at peace, my children. In the sanctuary of this hallowed Place, continue thine questings, thine role-playing, and thine sanctimonious and often mixed manner of Olde Speeche. Also, indulge thine own Most High Reverend Father of the Holy Order in a bit of plagiarism, and chant along:

Tho’ banefol spoileres mar the daie

And weve in demone-webs their graie

And trenchante trammeles o’er the erth,

I do declare from this mie birth

In monasteries spoiler-free

From trailere empiriol to flee

Unless it come o’er thirtie noons

Afore the Blessed Act repunnes.

This is mie rime, for you to see,

In the spoilere-battling monasterie.

Mayhap thou canst not say it any better than that.

*At the sound of the Dryad's startled scream, the Silv'ry Wanderer sits bolt upright in her saddle, a tingle shooting up and down her spine. She knoweth not what has befallen the fearless quest leader, but deduces that perhaps that coil of rope she packed (back on page fifteen of this thread) might come in handy. Urging Sandy forward, she gallops off after Life of Winter and Etiteppa. Upon reaching the edge of the precipice, her horse hesitates, not daring to traverse that dangerous downward slope on unsteady hooves. Holding the rope in her hands, she calls downward to her companions.*

Art thou alright, down there? I hope thou hast not suffered any injuries to the head, or leg, or hand, or whatever other extremity might be hurteth by such a fall. I hath brought mine rope and mine first-aid kit, but mine horse appears unable to taketh me any farther. I will cast my rope down and pull you up if necessary!

Runs after Silver ze Wanderer and skidds to a stop panting and alarmed

Roosssee!!!! Be you ok? I shalt help Silver pull ye up if I must, do answer! Or perhaps I should try to climb down and help ye?

(In a cave at the foot of a mountain many miles from the Monastery)
The dryad found herself to be in complete darkness, and lying on something very soft. She couldst not see anything in the gloom, so she searched for a stump of a candle and a match in her knapsack for many minutes before remembering that she, like all dryads, ist afraid of fire and dost not keep such things on her person.

At this point the dryad had nothing more to do but wait for help and glowing mushrooms and hopefully a Biscotti, and thus meditated on two things: one, the good poeme of the Illuminating Loremaster which curiously had cometh to her mind and brought a happy tear to her eyne in this hour of darkness, and two, the wish that should the High Reverend Father practice the art of headdesking to purge his memory of spoilers, the Minions wouldst not get it on video and post it on the Internete where it might go viral or, horror of horrors, be remixed.

I hath read the despatches of these myne questing brethen and sistren with great concern, casting even greater concern upon the as yet unknown fate of mine Sistren Who Art of the Rose Tree. Be ye to rights, Rosy Sistren?

EDIT: Ah, I hath recieved thy latest despatch by some magic beyond me, and art joyful at thy contiued success in thy questage. Surely the force is with thee, Dryad Sistren.

And also in this interval from mine cell do I rejoice at the final appearance of our Father who hath the power to bend the fifth great element. His presence doth give me great reassurance and reaffirmation in mine own chastity of mind.

*Pauseth to cheer on the questers, before disappearingeth into her cell for meditation and the buying of tickets for the Glorious and Beautific Vision the Third*

*snatches up the last glow-in-the-dark mushroom right before Etiteppa can eat it, ties it in a bundle with some biscotti, throws it down, and calls out* If you can hear me, I just want to tell you I'm coming down! Wait for meeeeeeee......! *promptly slips and falls as her dog stumbles into her, and they both go tumbling down*

Oh whew! She is all right Mayeth I ask however... Why be ze floor so soft? I'm not sure I like it. *Decideths to climb down and investigate.*

(In a comfy cave at the foot of a mountain many miles from the Monastery)
Without warning, the questing dryad was hit on the head with a small, hastily-tied parcel—containing, judging by its gentle luminance, a glowing mushroom and, joy of joys, a Biscotti, if the dryad's nose didst not fool her. The dryad staggered about for a moment from the impact, before breaking the fall of Life of Winter, More-of-a-Horse-than-a-Dog, and finally Etiteppa, who decided to use the entire party as a landing pad. No bones were broken, thanks to the soft, delightfully bouncy, and lumpy cave floor, though the dryad's greetings were a trifle muffled by the fact that her head was buried three feet into the cushioned ground.

Ooof! Mmmmmph! Arrrgh! *Pulls head out of a small mountain of yarn* Monk Winty! I now understand ye when ye say that thy dog ist almost as big as a horse. And Wolf! What skill with which you scale the cave walls! I wish I could do that! But alack, as a dryad, my feet always feel best when planted firmly on the ground.

Excellent, ye hath saved the last of the mushrooms from Etiteppa! Now, let us see what this mysterious cave ist truly like.

The dryad opened the Monk Winty's care package, reluctantly tossed the Biscotti to Etiteppa ( ) so the nanny goat wouldst not be tempted to nom on the last Glowshroom, and extended the aforementioned glowy thing, which quickly illuminated the surroundings.

By the Lion's Mane, this ist a wondrous cavern! I see the floor covered with balls of yarn, all colors of the rainbow, as far as the light will spread. How curious. I say, doth mine eyne deceive me, or ist the distant wall marked with ancient monkish stick-figure glyphs, a form of writing pioneered by the great St. Euphineas himself? Verily, let us investigate.

The dryad held up the Glowshroom to the cave drawings, one of which depicted the mountainside with stick-figure monks standing on it, and one of their number descending down into darkness on a rope. Further into the primitive drawing of the cave, there were multi-colored dots, presumably representing of yarn, and further still, a small podium with the largest ball of yarn of all, symbolized by a genuine imitation pearl superglued to the cave wall, resting on its surface. But near the podium crouched the sketch of a strange, fanged creature with pointed ears, red eyes, and a tail that wouldst surely be twitching were it animated. The cave drawing ended with the cavernous passageway going underneath the entire mountain and coming out the other side, where a crudely drawn forest surrounded a magnificent tree with branches laden with white fruit.

Methinks I understand! Remembreth how the Lady Galadriel's (greatly appreciated!) research told us that the Marshmallow Tree wast in a forest beyond the western mountains, where it wast very easy to get lost? Methinks that ist what the yarn is for! We canst use it to find our way back out of the wood! But methinks, judging by the cave drawing, that not any yarn would be long or enchanted enough to see us through the end of this quest, but the one which is resting on the podium. We wilt bring it back, for it is clearly a sacred artifact, but methinks we art meant to find it and to take it with us until we hath fulfilled this quest. What say you, fellow—

Here the dryad's words are interrupted by a dreadful caterwauling coming from the depths of the cave. . .

The dog Gabe jumps up, growling. Monk winter places her hand on his back to quiet him, lest his growling betray their presence.

*whispers* Very well done, Noble Rose Dryad! I must confess the pictures make little sense to me, but I have always been bad at interpreting anything.

*pulls more biscotti from her pack and tosses some carrots to Etiteppa to keep her occupied* Here you go, good Dryad. We are not out of biscotti yet.

Silver stands at the top of the precipice, listening intently as her companions disappear down into who-knows-where. When that horrible caterwauling sound reaches her ears, she shivers and flexes her sweaty hand nervously.

I do suppose I should go down to help...but suppose we never cometh back out of that rather unwelcoming pit? I should not like to be known as the Wanderer who disappeared somewhere in the wilderness and never returned. Oh dear. I do suppose I should leave a note.

She takes out the pen and paper that conveniently happened to be in her bag. Then, after spraying herself thoroughly with her extra-strong spoiler-repellent, she removes her blindfold so as to better see what it is she is writing. After quickly scrawling an explanation as to where Rose, Winty, Wolfy, and Silver hath gone, she dismounts Sandy and tucks the rolled-up note securely under the horses's saddle. She strokes the horses's nose.

I'm afraid thou ist too big to come any further than this. Pray taketh this note back to camp for me? And if we art not back by dawn, thou art free to go back to the Monastery and bring news of our untimely disappearance.

Silver pauses to watch her horse hesitantly trot away, back down the slope. Then, after having made sure the rope is securely fastened to the rocks above, she grabs hold of it and shimmies down the side of the cliff, into darkness - and lands on something squishy.

What might this be? Yarn? How odd. I do wonder - is it growing right out of the rocks?

At this point, she catches sight of the Glowshroom and hurries over to join the others.

My, what strange drawings! Doth this mean that our monk-ish predecessors hath visited this very cave before? Who else would hath sought after this legendary marshmallow tree?

She pauses, as the dreadful caterwauling begins again, louder than ever. Shivering, she stares at the cave drawing.

My my, that noise echoes through these cave walls. Perhaps if we look around, we might find some clue as to how to defeat - or at least slip past - that creature there? Hmm. It looks rather dog-like to me. Might thou hath some idea what it is, Good Wolf?

And where did that magic mirror go? Ah, there it is. Good day to you, CP! I hope thy meditation is faring well! The Great Viewing ist only two days away! I must pick out my showtime! But my local place-of-viewing has still not posted their viewing times yet. I grow impatient.

Silver's stomach rumbles, and she takes a piece of biscotti from Winty.