The Adventures of Jane and Thorin, Part the Third



Jane Austen Finger Puppet: Hey, baby.

Thorin: …are you speaking to me, madam?

Finger Puppet: You so fine, baby.

Thorin: I beg your pardon?

Jane: Oh, dear. Your majesty, I apologize most profusely for my cousin’s bad manners.

Thorin: Oh, this is your cousin! I see the family resemblance.

Jane: …do you really?

Thorin: No, not really.

Jane: Oh, good.

Finger Puppet: Hey baby, let’s go there and back again.

Jane: Oh, will you hush!

Thorin: Pray do not regard it, Miss Austen.

Finger Puppet: Hey king baby, what do you say we make that big Elven sword go SCHWING!

Thorin: *chuckles*

Jane: *blushes*

Thorin: Truly, Miss Austen, I am not taking this seriously. You need not be embarrassed. I dare say we all have a relative or two that will put us to the blush.

Jane: I dare say yours won’t show up here and speak to me in such a disgusting manner.

Thorin: Probably for the best you haven’t met Fili and Kili, then.

Jane: Who?

Thorin: It doesn’t matter.

Finger Puppet: Is it warm in here or are you just smokin’?

Thorin: I–I didn’t bring my pipe, madam.

Jane: That’s not what she meant, your majesty. (To Finger Puppet) You revolting creature! Stop with such talk! Can’t you see Thorin is not a…not a… HOLLABACK KING?

Thorin: Miss Austen, that is quite the nicest thing you have ever said to me.

Jane: Well, if the simple creature doesn’t have the wit to figure that out for herself…

Finger Puppet: Hey king baby, did you bring your Horn of Gondor? Cause I know just how to blow it.

Thorin: I think, madam, you have perhaps confused me with Boromir.

Jane: *clutches head in hands* I am humiliated!

Thorin: Now, madam Finger Puppet, you see you have distressed your cousin. Off with you! Go torture some other Dwarf. I can probably find a few who are not as nice as I.

Jane: Come to think of it, she thinks Fanny Price should have married Henry Crawford.

Thorin: Well, that just shows you that her taste was wrongly formed.

Finger Puppet: Your loss, baby. *wanders off muttering “REDRUM! REDRUM!”*

Jane: Thank you, your majesty. Thank you for your kindness.

Thorin: My pleasure, Miss Austen. To serve you is…always my pleasure.

Jane: Careful, sir.

Thorin: Yes, madam.

The Adventures of Jane and Thorin, Part the Second


Jane, Thorin and the Good Luck Troll Thorin: Miss Austen!

Jane: Yes, your majesty?

Thorin: Perhaps it has escaped your notice, madam, but you are at present under threat of a troll attack.


Jane: Oh…yes, I see.

Thorin: It would be my honour to defend you against this abominable creature, madam.

Jane: I hardly think that necessary, your majesty. He’s just a Good Luck Troll.


Thorin: Back, foul beast! Touch one hair…er…one piece of plastic on this fair maiden and I will smite you!


Jane: Oh, you are a poppet! *strokes his hair*

Thorin: Miss Austen, you are in imminent danger! I do request that you step back and let me send him back to the hell from which he sprung!

Jane: Someplace dark, and far underground, I suppose.

Thorin: Yes! ….wait a minute…

Jane: One should never judge by first impressions, your majesty.

Thorin. No, madam.

Jane: Now why don’t you put away your large Elven sword, and step back?

Thorin: Yes, madam. *mutters* damn damn damn damn…

Jane: I beg your pardon?

Thorin: Nothing, madam.

In which Jane Austen converses with the King under the Mountain



Thorin Oakenshield: Miss Austen?

Jane Austen: Yes, your majesty?

Thorin: You could just call me Thorin, you know, and I’ll call you Jane.

Jane: You shall call me Miss Austen, your majesty.

Thorin: *mutters* deep cleansing breath…be cool, Oakenshield, be cool…

Jane: I beg your pardon?

Thorin: Nothing, madam. Only that I thought, since we shall be sharing such close quarters…

Jane: Yes?

Thorin: Well….

Jane: Yes?

Thorin: Would you perhaps like to see my large Elven sword?

Jane: Would you perhaps like to have my quill pen inserted into your ear with extreme prejudice?

Thorin: *snicker* Do you mean with extreme PRIDE and prejudice? *snort*

Jane: *sighs loudly*

Thorin: *mutters* damn damn damn damn…

Jane: I beg your pardon?

Thorin: Nothing, madam.

Jane: Mmm.

All About Henry Tilney


We’re happy to participate in Austenesque Reviews’ Austenesque Extravaganza! Mr. Tilney still would be pleased to Explain It All, so if you have questions or seek advice, you may post them in comments–please see below. In the meantime, we stole this from Mr. Tilney’s e-mail account here is a bit of Mr. Tilney’s personal correspondence that we thought our Gentle Readers might find illuminating. –Ed.


My dear Frederick,

Really? Are you twelve years old? Do you still have a MySpace page? Oh, very well.


> TO:,,,


> family,
> got one of these forward things from the fizzer and realized i know nothing about
> any of you. take a minute to fill it out and send back to me. anybody have the
> governor’s e-mail addy? or is he still going on with that “i’ll have no part of that
> electronic mail, quill pens and wafers were good enough for my generation”
> bollocks?

> xo,
> freddy

> “Every lover is a soldier.” — Ovid

> Captain Frederick Tilney
> 12th Light Dragoons
> Northampton

NAME: The Rev. Henry Tilney, B.A. Hons. (Oxon)

LIVING ARRANGEMENT: A very comfortable country parsonage with my lovely wife, Catherine, my old housekeeper, my clerk, two or three terriers and a large Newfoundland puppy.

FAVORITE PASTIME: Reading horrid novels to Catherine of an evening, and comforting her when she pretends to be frightened. I rather suspect that is why she pretends to be frightened.

FAVORITE BOOK: The Midnight Bell. Catherine and I like to play Ninja and Heroine. . . perhaps that is a trifle personal.

THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD IS: Being booted and great coated and basking in feminine admiration.

THE WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD IS: Knowing one’s cravat is spoilt, and unable to do a thing about it.

FAVORITE SMELLS: Leather, the country after a hard rain, freshly washed muslin, Catherine’s perfume.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK WHEN YOU WAKE IN THE MORNING: Tea is Our Heavenly Father’s way of letting us know that He loves us and wants us to be happy.

FAVORITE FOODS: A grilled trout that I caught myself that very day; new vegetables in the spring; those little sandwiches they serve at supper in the Lower Rooms, for they remind me of my first meeting with Catherine.

CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA: I know if I say chocolate, the ladies will approve, and I always like the ladies to approve of me.

STORMS, COOL OR SCARY: Picturesque, certainly. “Cool” would depend on the weather pattern and time of year.

HORRID NOVELS, COOL OR SCARY: Scary, of course, or why bother?

FAVORITE DRINK: Tea on a cold day, or a robust port after a good dinner.

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING ABOUT THE WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE: Everyone would be excellent to one another.

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING ABOUT YOURSELF, WHAT WOULD IT BE: Have less knowledge of the human race, and therefore less cynicism. I am taking my cue from my delightful wife in that regard.


IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL: At least half-full; sometimes three-quarters full.

WHAT’S IN YOUR ANXIETY CLOSET: Bad adaptations thats make me look like a broody, condescending git.

WHAT’S YOUR LOFTIEST DREAM: Sermons on the Picturesque, by A Country Gentleman, published by John Murray, London.

WHAT’S YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE: My fangirls, particularly Miss Sullivan, realizing that I’m a fictional character. My life would not be nearly as much fun.

WHAT DO YOU WISH PEOPLE KNEW ABOUT YOU THAT YOU FEEL THEY DON’T: I have never lectured or condescended to my dearest Catherine—well, I have lectured her on the picturesque, but she does not seem to mind.

BOXERS OR BRIEFS: Not having engaged in the study of the law, I am afraid I can have little to do with briefs. However, back at Oxford I studied the Sweet Science and have been known to go a few rounds in the ring. Gentleman Jackson himself complimented my right hook. I suppose I must choose Boxers, then, though this seems a strange question to me.

WHO ELSE IN THE FAMILY WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE FILL OUT THIS QUESTIONNAIRE: My darling wife, though I think I can guess most of her answers!

Gentle readers, it is your turn. We have been delegated by Mr. Tilney to solicit your questions. What would you like to know about him? Or would you like some advice for your own love life or life in general? Or is there something you would like to ask the Editrix? Post your questions in the comments! Each response counts as an entry in the Amazing Austenesque Giveaway, so comment early and often! And a bit of obligatory self-promotion: if you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy the Editrix’s book There Must Be Murder. Two copies of TMBM are up for grabs in the Amazing Austenesque Giveaway!

The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen, Part the Seventh


Part the FirstPart the SecondPart the ThirdPart the FourthPart the FifthPart the Sixth

The Ladies Take Their Turn

In which the story ends, we hope satisfactorily.

“This meeting of the League will come to order,” cried Mr. Bingley, banging his gavel several times. The hubbub died down in the crowded Pemberley ballroom. Everyone had come: the gentlemen, the ladies, the blackguards, and even the minor comic characters.

“Miss Bates, I beg your pardon, madam,” said Mr. Bingley, “but I must ask you to desist as well.”

“Oh, Mr. Bingley, I beg your pardon,” said Miss Bates. “I was just telling dear Jane and my mother about the unfortunate result of the blackguards–”

Mrs. Churchill managed to quiet her aunt, and Mr. Bingley nodded to her gratefully.

“Mr. Darcy will speak to you all now about the next steps of the defense.”

Everyone applauded politely as Mr. Darcy took the podium.

“We undertook the defense of Miss Jane Austen’s work against the forces of popular culture, which sought to overtake us and bend us to its will,” said Mr. Darcy. “We have used the generous resources with which Miss Austen provided us, and have had success. The Royal Navy, the army, the gentlemen of the hunt, and the gentlemen of the cloth. Even those of us who have not behaved as they ought–” he glanced at the blackguards, who sat a little apart from everyone else, passing around a bottle between them; Mr. Crawford, wrapped in blankets, sipped shakily– “have had a part in the defense. I am proud of all that we have done, and I hope you all are proud as well.”

He stopped speaking to take a drink of water, and there was scattered applause. Mr. Darcy held up a hand.

“Thank you—but I am very sorry to report that we have not, at last, succeeded.” Continue reading

The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen, Part the Sixth


Part the FirstPart the SecondPart the ThirdPart the FourthPart the FifthPart the SixthPart the Seventh

Not Gentlemen At All

In which the League encounters the Fangirls.

Mr. Darcy had called together his staff. “Gentlemen, it has been a week, and we have not had a report from the Blackguards,” he said.

“They might be, er, busy,” said Mr. Bingley.

“Mr. Darcy, these are not the steadiest fellows,” said Admiral Croft. “Brave of them to go out, of course, nothing to say to that; but they aren’t to be depended upon for proper discipline.”

“I understand you,” said Mr. Darcy. “Nevertheless, I am concerned. I would think that if they had success they would wish to, er, lord it over us.”

The ballroom doors burst open at that moment, and two ragged figures staggered in. “Help us,” cried one of the men, who was supporting the other. Continue reading

The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen, Part the Fifth


Part the FirstPart the SecondPart the ThirdPart the FourthPart the FifthPart the SixthPart the Seventh

The Gentleman in Charge

In which we at last meet the leader of the defensive action.

The butler opened the door. He said, “Welcome, Mr. Tilney,” and admitted him immediately. “Are all these gentlemen with you?” he asked as Mr. Ferrars, Mr. Bertram, and Mr. Collins filed past.

“Yes, for my sins,” said Henry. “Are they in the ballroom?”

“Yes, sir.” He led the way and opened the door to admit them.

The vast ballroom was in a bustle of activity. As the gentlemen of the cloth entered the room, a passing gentleman stopped and exclaimed, “Hullo, Tilney!”

“Hullo, Bingley!” said Henry, clasping his hand.

Mr. Bingley eyed Henry’s entourage. “Did your operation go off well?”

“Very well, indeed. We’re all the best of friends now, aren’t we, gentlemen?” said Henry with a grin. “Wouldn’t travel to Derbyshire without them.” Continue reading