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

The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen: Part the Fourth


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

The Gentlemen of the Cloth

In which Mr. Tilney has a secret.

A gentleman stood in the church, looking around with an anxious air. His dress was subdued; a black coat and trousers, gray great coat, sturdy boots, and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. His wife had told him that he looked quite smart when he left her for his important mission.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see who had joined him; and then he knew that his own raiment, however glorious it had seemed in his own dressing-room, was merely ordinary.

A long, long great coat made of black leather swirled around shining top boots, separating in front to reveal close-fitting black suede breeches. A black shirt and waistcoat, a loosely-tied black muslin cravat, and a wide-brimmed black hat completed his ensemble. He had a crossbow tucked under his arm. The first gentleman took some comfort from the fact that his own hat was not that much different from the leather-coated gentleman’s. Continue reading

The League of Austen’s Extraordinary Gentlemen: Part the Third


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

The Gentlemen of the Hunt

In which the Gentlemen encounter some very unexpected creatures.

“You must do something, gentlemen,” said Mr. Perry. “The entire town expects it.” He lowered his voice. “It might be only chickens now, but there is fear that the violence will extend to people. There’s a moon tonight; no doubt they will be out and about.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Mr. Knightley. Mr. Perry, judging it best to let the sentiment work upon the gentlemen, left them.

“Let’s go after them,” said Sir John Middleton, caressing his best shotgun. “Let’s teach them a lesson, Knightley.”

“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” said Mr. Martin.

“You don’t have a part in this, Robert,” said Knightley.

Robert Martin looked at him steadily. “I may be just a yeoman farmer, but I have as much right to join in this fight as you do.” Continue reading

The Very Secret Diary of Henry Tilney, Part the Fourth


It’s been much too long, I know, but in honor of Valentine’s Day, the pairs skating short program in the Winter Olympics, and oh yeah, the rebroadcast of NADublin, at last we finish this one up. For those new to AustenBlog, previous entries in Mr. Tilney’s Very Secret Diary may be found here: Part the First, Part the Second, Part the Third

Hold me like you did by the lake at Beechen CliffDay 19: Big storm last night. V. picturesque. Eleanor and I cleaned out nest of undead hiding in the offices. Bit tired this morning, not up to flirting with Miss M. Fortunately the governor’s taken himself off to London. Time for training to start in earnest.

Day 20: Took Miss M. to Woodston. Was v. excited about showing her training facility disguised as “cottage” in orchard. Remembered at last minute that vampyres killed housekeeper whilst incompetent curate was cowering under bed and place is a mess. Contented self with sort of pointing at house as we rode past. Oh well, it’s not like I’m going to marry her or anything.

Day 21: Found one of those sparkly American vampyres swanning round the hermitage walk in broad daylight. Gave me some bollocks about being a “vegetarian.” As though I haven’t heard that one before. Whinged about having the skin of a monster until one was positively embarrassed for it and staked it out of compassion.

Day 22: Am having difficulty communicating facts of Abbey and her destiny to Miss M. She seems to understand something is going on, but just as I am about to tell her something important, I turn it into a joke. I don’t know why, though after all, a secret explained loses all of its charm. Perhaps am just obsessed with being the wittiest. Perhaps am just a simp.

Day 23: Emergency message from curate; must make trip to Woodston. Eleanor promised to explain all to Miss M. while I am away.

Later: Incompetent curate incapable of coping with one young vampyre. Took care of it. Too bad Miss M. not quite ready, as it would have been excellent for training. Found Collins in old-womanish hysteria, no longer wants to be curate. Says he has obtained a new situation far from hellmouth. Probably for the best, though I’ve heard strange things about Rosings.

Day 24: Returned to Abbey, found Miss M. skulking about near Mamma’s room. Questioned her, discovered she has completely misunderstood the governor’s idiotic comments. Somehow thinks she has stumbled into a Radcliffe novel instead of proper hellmouth. Not the time to explain properly, so acted like prat and made her cry. Am so not the wittiest.

Later: Should have been more understanding. If not prepared to tell Miss M. that she is The One and has a special destiny, should have led her gently; should have appealed to her good common sense and her understanding, should have called her “dearest Miss Morland.” Daresay that’s a bit subtle for a 90-minute low-budget telemovie, so only thing to do now to save situation: marry Miss M. But first, back to Woodston to redecorate sitting-room.

Day 25: Letter waiting for me at Woodston. Freddy says he has “neutralized” the succubus. Probably stole her shoes as well.

Day 26: Arrived back at Abbey, ready to offer hand, heart, and newly-papered sitting room to Miss M. only to find the governor came back unexpectedly and has tossed her out on word of werewolf. I’m done with him. Vampyres had a positive party in the shrubbery. Eleanor and I were up half the night cleaning up. Must go after Miss M.

Day 27: Arrived at Fullerton. Explained all about Abbey being hellmouth to Miss M. She has agreed to marry me nonetheless. Should be an excellent situation for training. Snogging in shrubbery also quite agreeable.

Day 28: Low-budget telemovie, blah de blah, parental scruples, blah de blah, months of clandestine correspondence, blah de blah, rush rush rush, blah de blah. Things are moving fast. Good thing sitting-room redecoration is well in hand.

Day 29: To begin perfect happiness at 18 and 26 is to do pretty well. Miss M.–that is, my dearest Catherine—and I shall endeavour to cope as we breed our own little team of vampyre slayers.

And a thousand points that don’t mean anything to the first person who recognizes the two references in the LOLAusten.