Algernon and his Little Band

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Shortly after we were married, I was reading The Sword of Shannara aloud to my husband. After the phrase "Allanon and his little band" was repeated for the third or fourth time, he asked, "Yeah, well who plays the drums?" We both laughed, and not long afterward, he produced a cartoon that's a parody of the Hildebrandt painting "The Seekers of the Sword", which appeared in early editions of The Sword of Shannara. A few years later, he sat down and started to write a story inspired by the picture he'd drawn. Both the drawing and the story are copyright by him, and may not be copied for any purpose.

See the picture this is a parody of!

A tall, dark figure darted from shadow to shadow. His eyes shifted under thick eyebrows as he surveyed the dusty street before he sprinted across. He paused a second and his hand flashed into his cloak and a "tac-tac-tac" could be heard if anyone was listening close. When the second was up, he dodged into an alley. As if on cue, people appeared on the street and four men in native garb ran up to a notice they hadn't noticed before.
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Meanwhile, at the other end of the alley, the mysterious man stopped short and held his breath while two ladies in flowing flannel robes trundled past, their banal conversation nauseating to one of his heightened sensibilities and passions. He released his breath as they turned out of sight. Scanning the thoroughfare, he spied his next goal: a large elm tree at the end of the street. The coast was clear. He made his move.
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As he approached, his senses were aware, his perception heightened by his prolonged exposure to possibly prying eyes. He stopped at the large trunk of the tree and took out his parchment. Tac-tac-tac. Thock! "Ouch!" he felt his head then bent down to pick up the apple that hit him. He murmured something about apple trees and collected himself to scuttle into the shadows once again. Something about those elm leaves troubled him. Thock! Thock!
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He looked up, nervously. People were going to appear at any moment. Sometimes it was indeed an asset he was very tall, just over seven feet. He reached up to a limb and pulled himself up. He climbed until he was well out of sight. He could hear voices approaching. Just in time, he thought. He settled in to wait for another dead space and hoped it wouldn't be too long.
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"It's my tree," a voice hissed from above.
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With raised eyebrows, he said, "I didn't see a sign."
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"Well I saw you putting a sign on my tree. Can't you take a hint? You and your sign, get out!" the hoarse whisper demanded.
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"Listen my dear girl, and listen well. I move by the shadows, I am seen only when I intend to be seen. And if not being seen means staying put then I stay put. Here's your apple back." He pivoted on a branch and threw the apple at the young girl, hard. It hit solidly and she bit her lip to not cry out.
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"It's my tree and I don't want people standing around looking at your sign. I like them to keep their distance."
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The man looked down at the street. The crowd was thinning. Soon the street would be empty.
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"Who are you, anyway? What are you doing sticking up signs on my tree?"
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"You'll have to read the sign to find that out, my dear girl." He shoved off of his branch into empty air. He looked up and saw the girl climbing down after him. The blurring of the branches as he fell must have tricked his eyesight. Nothing could move like that. He braced and rolled with the landing. He bounced back to his feet and saw that she was already down looking at the notice.
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"Algernon?" she said looking at him. She might have been older than he thought. A little, anyway.
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"Adieu, my dear lady," and Algernon bolted for the cover of an alley.
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"Wait!" she cried after him. Behind her, she heard a scream. She turned and saw a lady pointing at her. Two men came out of a store.
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"It's one of them!" one said.
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"Let's get her," said the other.
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She ran much faster than those behind her. By the time they reached the tree, they had given up the chase. "Dirty beggers. Always run like rabbits."
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"Not the only thing they do like rabbits." They both laughed. "Hey, Virgil. Look at this. 'Coming soon: Algernon and his Little Band.' Say, weren't they over at Sleepy Dale a couple months ago?"
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"No. That was somebody's big band. Can't stand the stuff. Too much like something They'd listen to." He pointed his thumb after the girl. "You know?"
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"Yeah. Say, 'Pyrotechnic Power.' That's more my speed. 'Sights and sounds you won't want to miss!' I don't want to miss that!"
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"Me neither. I'll be there. It's about time they got some culture in this town."
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"Know what you mean, Virgil. Know what you mean." They headed back down the street laughing about rabbit hunting.
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Algernon sat on his haunches in the alley, trying to figure out what he just saw. He had one more sign to post. He would have a lot of thinking to do when he got back to camp.
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When Algernon got back to camp, Grendal stood over a log, sucking thoughtfully on a large, dwarven cigar. As usual, when he was thusly disposed, he didn't exhale until he was good and ready. Algernon stopped as a great inrush of air was heard and a mighty axe was swung over the dwarf's head. Billowing smoke and a fearsome yell filled the clearing until they were silenced by a solid CHOP! Grendal resumed his thoughtful stance, resting his hands on the axe and sucking on his cigar. Algernon saw the heap of firewood at his feet.
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"You'd get more wood if you chopped a bigger log," said Algernon.
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"Yep," said Grendal out of the side of his mouth. No smoke escaped.
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"Doesn't it bother you that you can't see the log when you swing through the smoke?"
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"Nope." Grendal chewed the end of his cigar.
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"You know, it really gets me when you chew your butt when I'm talking to you."
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"You chew my butt your way and I'll chew it mine." He breathed deeply and yelled as smoke hid him from view. Oddly enough there was no fall of the axe.
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He poked his face out from the smoke and jerked the cigar out of his mouth. "False alarm, big guy! Heh-heh-heh," he laughed broadly.
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"You little..." Grendal's blood-curdling yell covered his words. CHOP!
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"Heh-heh-heh."
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"Don't doooo that."
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Yell. CHOP! "Heh-heh-heh."
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"Grendal? Stop just a moment."
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"Yes," he said, poking his face through the smoke again.
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"Where is everybody? Where are they hiding from you?"
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"Flea and Shick are getting water. Duran and Duran are out hunting for our evening berries." He chewed his cigar in disgust as he growled the last word. "And Avon Leah is out in the woods practicing some...jokes." He forced a smile to add meaning to that word, too. "So let me get this fire going and that will bring the boys home." He nodded in a tight-lipped smile at Algernon and turned to get his flint.
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A shower of sparks flew but none of them caught. "Why that lousy, cheap flint!" He put it back in its place and puffed on his cigar. He threw it into the wood and it exploded into flames. "That's the way you do it!"
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"We have brought forth much fruit!" cried two fair-haired men.
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"Say have you heard the one about when the druid and the priest went fishing?"
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"Watch your feet!"
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"You watch your feet!"
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"Look out!"
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"What?" Two boys crashed into each other and spilled four buckets of water on the fire. Everyone held their breath as the fire went out, sputtered, then roared back to life. Grendal reached down and picked up the remains of his cigar.
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"Heh-heh. Dwarvana's finest!" He stuck it in his mouth.
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Later that night, after Algernon brought back four buckets of water and a meal (?) of barbequed boysenberries, Algernon waxed thoughful about his day in town. Who was that girl and why did they treat her that way? he mused. She was peculiar, but how? And why? Algernon looked at his compatriots, his little band of adventurers and musicians. Each of them was off in their own part of the world.
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Grendal, from Dwarvana, had his eyes closed and his head was bobbing as he silently strummed his bass. Flea and Shick, brothers from a southern community where all music had been banned, were scatting impromptu. Shick looked so uncannily Elven. Avon Leah was their cousin, a prince from a very small kingdom, the last four acres of monarchy in the new Democratic South.
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Duran and Duran were Algernon's secret. They were undoubtedly Elven if anyone looked too close. The long, blond, curly hair hid the ears somewhat. What wasn't so obvious was the fact that they were not alive. He had found them amongst the wreckage of an Elven ship, protected in a well-padded packing crate. Algernon inserted the accompanying elfstones and voila! Instant lead and rhythm guitar.
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Avon Leah's voice was crescendoing as he talked with the two androids.
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"Do you understand?" he said loudly and slowly. Duran looked at Duran, who slowly returned the look.
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"By your command," they said together.
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"If you understand, then show me you understand! You're too much in the foreground. Shick's the singer Give him the space he deserves. Now do you understand?"
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"By your command." Avon Leah fancied himself their stage manager, thinking a little band was easier to rule than a kingdom. Actually, he didn't know the first thing about music or working closely with people, or androids for that matter. Maybe someday he'd realize Duran and Duran were very much under Algernon's complete control. Besides, not only did he teach them to play guitar, he also taught them excellent stage presence.
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"Bop-boppin itty," said Shick.
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"Doo-wop Diddy," said Flea.
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"Shina-linga flim-flam," said Shick.
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"Wham-bam! thank you, ma'am," they said in unison, smiling at each other. Still in unison, they said, "Gooby-dooby Shooby-wooby wa-wa-waaa!" They slapped hands and laughed. Avon gave them a dirty look. Their laughter was broken by four descending intro notes from Grendal's bass.
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"Got the power and the glory," Shick sang out, picking up from Grendal's lead. He played it again. "Like you've heard in an Elven story."
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The notes ascended this time. "Got the music and the might." Grendal returned to his original rif. "Gonna make you feel alright."
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Duran looked quickly at Duran then they ran for their guitars.
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"We got love and we got war." Rhythm and Lead coming in with perfect synchronization. I'm telling what we're singing for." Flea took his drumsticks out of his back pocket and started hitting the rock he was sitting on. Sparks were flying from the elfstone tips. "Gonna touch your soul, Gonna touch your mind, with a music that's out of time." There was a brilliant flash and Algernon's keyboards appeared for a lengthy solo.
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Several minutes later, a bored Shick broke in singing, "Everybody get on your feet. Only dead men stay in your seat. Everybody jump to the beat. When you're done you can all go eat..." Shick looked questioningly at Algernon.
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"Duffy's," he said as he launched into another solo.
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"Eat at Duffy's Bar and Grill. Where the good food is!"
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Algernon slammed his fists into his keyboard. "No! Nonononono! No! Duffy's Omlette and Tea House. Light and fluffy, only from Duffy. Forget the bars and grills."
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Shick looked away in disgust. "Algernon, how many people do you really think are going to ride for ten days for an omlette and tea. This is the frontier."