Knowing that we are gargoylically behind schedule, Melanie’s Special Air Section very kindly offer us another craft. Looking down at people shooting at each other, Juan asks me to remind him, again, what all the fighting is about. I can’t remember the details but say that, from up here, the fighting seems pointless and crazy. Juan agrees but reminds me that I was very happy to shoot everything in sight at the slightest opportunity. I tell him that, when he wasn’t befuddled and face down in the mud, all he did was yell the Black Watch war cry and sling grenades in all directions, which is stupid, irritating and unhelpful. Juan says that what is irritating an unhelpful is being given a black eye, and aims a punch. I parry the punch and reply with an upper cut, which catches him neatly under the chin. Staggering backwards, he grabs a pipe from the wall, which he swings at my head, I duck under the pipe, and stamp on his foot, he spins and back-kicks me in the stomach but not before I get in some useful kidney punches. When we both collapse in exhaustion and in need of medical attention, we manage to open a barrel of vintage Glen Grant and drink, slowly and painfully, to the hope of world peace and wish everyone the best of luck.
We have had a lot of fun here and we are sorry to be leaving so many friends in this beautiful place, only made dangerous and miserable by dangerous and miserable men, who will not endure. Now, leaving the thunderous gunfire behind, shouting, brawling, and yelling with excitement, we float into the whispering sky. After one debacle after another, we are desperate to return to the Unknown Region, to the ancient, enduring, peace of the
and to crossing the silent, empty, reaches to Humperdinkadad, and hearing the stars sing. Desert of Angad
Professor Humperdink's Diary