Chapter 2, A Weekend With the Lions

Disclaimer: I'm in too much of a hurry to come up with a witticism.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry for being off the line all summer, but I'm currently in Italy and the Wi-Fi is very scant. However, it is lovely here, so I shan't complain. Thanks to all those who have been reviewing our stories! Each review is treated like a bit of holy manna, I can tell you. we are, at chapter two! Enjoy: you've all earned it!

Lady Blackwoodshire passed her tongue over her teeth in thought. She was enjoying her garden, and the sound of the birdsong in the willow tree that grew by the paddock.

She hummed a bit to herself, before noticing that Lucy was tramping across the lawn to her, bundle of letters in hand.

Ah! So the mail had arrived.

Note: The following is not a Disney song.

A WEEKEND IN THE COUNTRY {from A Little Night Music}

Lucy: {holding out a particular letter from her bundle} Look, mum an invitation.

Here mum, delivered by hand!

And mum, I notice the stationery's engraved and very grand!

Lady Blackwoodshire: Oh, Lucy how too exciting, just when I need it.

Lucy, such elegant writing, so chic you hardly can read it!

What do you think?

Who could it be?

Even the ink—

{Lucy makes to open the envelope}

No! Here, let me.

{Lady Blackwoodshire opens the envelope and begins reading the letter aloud}

Your presence—

Just think of it it, Lucy!

Is kindly—

It's at a chateau!

Requested, et cetera, et cetera—

Madame Kit Snicket—


{Lady Blackwoodshire lowers the letter and grimaces}

A weekend in the mountains.

Lucy: We're invited?

Lady Blackwoodshire: What a horrible plot!

A weekend in the mountains—

Lucy: I'm excited!

Lady Blackwoodshire: {sharply} No, you're not!

Lucy: A weekend in the mountains, just imagine—

Lady Blackwoodshire: It's completely depraved!

Lucy: A weekend in the mountains!

Lady Blackwoodshire: It's insulting!

Lucy: {shrugging} It's engraved!

Lady Blackwoodshire: It's that woman! It's that Snicket!

Lucy: Oh, the exiled?

Lady Blackwoodshire: No, the b*tch!

She may want a return ticket.

But she'd mad if she thinks I would be such a fool as to weekend in the mountains!

Lucy: {half-hearted} How insulting!

Lady Blackwoodshire: {as an afterthought} And I've nothing to wear!

Lady Blackwoodshire and Lucy: A weekend in the mountains—

Lady Blackwoodshire: Here!

{she tosses the invitation back to Lucy}

The last place I'm going is there!

{scene two—yes, this number is rather long—is in the sitting room of the Blackwoodshire estate. Lord Blackwoodshire sits by the hearth, reading, as Lady Blackwoodshire and Lucy storm in}

Lucy: {holding out the letter} Guess what? An invitation!

Lady Blackwoodshire: Guess who? Begins with a 'K'.

Kit Snicket, the exiled relation to the decrepit Lemony

Lucy: Guess when we're asked to go, sir?

See, sir, the date there.

Guess where? A fancy chateau sir!

{she hands the invitation to Lord Blackwoodshire, who reads it throughout the following lines}

Lady Blackwoodshire: {shrilly} Guess too who's lying in wait there?

Setting her traps—

Fixing her face—

Lord Blackwoodshire: {rising} Darling, perhaps a change of pace.

Lady Blackwoodshire: Oh no!

Lord Blackwoodshire: A weekend in the mountains would be charming.

And the air would be fresh.

Lady Blackwoodshire: A weekend with that woman—

Lord Blackwoodshire: {pointing out the fact} In the mountains!

Lady Blackwoodshire: In the flesh!

Lord Blackwoodshire: I've some business with her brother.

Lucy: {imploring} See, it's business!

Lady Blackwoodshire: Oh, no doubt!

But the business with her brother would be hardly the business I'd worry about!

Lord Blackwoodshire and Lucy: Just a weekend in the mountains—

Lord Blackwoodshire: Smelling yarrow!

Lady Blackwoodshire: Being half-buried in snow!

Lord Blackwoodshire and Lucy: A weekend in the mountains—

Lady Blackwoodshire: {giving up} GO!

Lord Blackwoodshire: {shrugging} My darling, we'll simply say no.

Lady Blackwoodshire: {smirking} Oh.

{they walk off together, leaving Lucy looking the picture of disappointment. scene three is in the capital city: Dirty Bastard. in the central park, as a matter of fact. Lady Blackwoodshire has gone for an evening constitutional with her close friend, and recurring character: Madame Josephine Anwhistle}

Lady Blackwoodshire: A weekend!

Madame Anwhistle: {drily} How very amusing.

Lady Blackwoodshire: A weekend!

Madame Anwhistle: But also inept.

Lady Blackwoodshire: A weekend! Of course we're refusing.

Madame Anwhistle: {stopping in the middle of the park} Au contraire, you must accept!

Lady Blackwoodshire: {whining} Oh no!

Madame Anwhistle: A weekend in the mountains—

Lady Blackwoodshire: But its frightful!

Madame Anwhistle: {instructing} No, you don't understand!

A weekend in the mountains is delightful, if it's planned.

Wear your hair down, and a flower—

Don't use make-up, dress in white.

She'll grow more nervous by the hour—

And be spilling her secrets by Saturday night!

Spend a weekend in the mountains—

Lady Blackwoodshire: {smirking} We'll accept it!

Madame Anwhistle: I'd a feeling you would.

Lady Blackwoodshire and Madame Anwhistle: A weekend in the mountains—

Lady Blackwoodshire: YES! It's only polite that we should.

Madame Anwhistle: {hiding a wicked grin} Good.

{they walk on. scene four is in the throne room at the Snicket palace, in the center of the city. Madame Anwhistle enters, conversing with Lemony Snicket: the ruler of the the land}

Lemony: Well?

Madame Anwhistle: I've an intriguing little social item.

Lemony: Well?

Madame Anwhistle: Out of your very own family manse.

Lemony: Well, what?

Madame Anwhistle: Merely a weekend, though I thought it might amuse you to know who's invited to go—this time, with his pants.

Lemony: You don't mean—?

Madame Anwhistle: I'll give you three guesses.

Lemony: She wouldn't—

Madame Anwhistle: Reduce it to two.

Lemony: It can't be—

Madame Anwhistle: It nevertheless is—

Lemony: Plot Twist!

Madame Anwhistle: Ah, score one for you!

Lemony: Aha!

Madame Anwhistle: Ye-ha!

Lemony: Aha!

Madame Anwhistle: Aha?

Lemony: A weekend in the mountains, we should try it—

Madame Anwhistle: How I wish we'd been asked!

Lemony: A weekend in the mountains, peace and quiet—

Madame Anwhistle: {speculating} We'll go masked!

Lemony: {prancing about the stage} And the skating should be pleasant, if the weather's not too rough.

Happy Wednesday, it's your present—

You haven't been getting out nearly enough.

A weekend in the mountains—

Madame Anwhistle: Uninvited? She'll consider it odd.

Lemony: A weekend in the mountains—

Madame Anwhistle: {squeeling in delight} It's perverted!

Lemony: Pack clothes for the snow.

Madame Anwhistle and Lemony: A weekend in the mountains—

Lemony: At exactly two-thirty, we go.

Madame Anwhistle: {with increasing delight} We can't!

Lemony: We shall!

Madame Anwhistle: We shan't!

Lemony: I'm getting the chopper, and we're flying on down.

Madame Anwhistle: {now jumping up and down with glee} Yes, I'm certain you are, but I'm staying in town.

{now the voices of Lemony, Madame Anwhistle, Lord and Lady Blackwoodshire, and Lucy blend together in a quintet}

Go and pack my suits!

We'll go.

I won't!

Oh, good!

My boots!

We will?

Pack everything I own that skates!

We should.

No! Pack everything white.

Mum it's wonderful news!

I'm thinking it out. Are you sure it's all right?


We'd be rude to refuse.

There's no need to shout.

Then we're off!

We are?


We'll take the car!

All right, then—

We'll bring champagne and caviar!

All at once: We're off on our way.

What a beautiful day

For a weekend in the mountains.

How amusing, how delightfully droll.

A weekend in the mountains, while we're losing our control.

A weekend in the mountains, how enchanting,

On the downy slopes.

A weekend in the mountains, with the dancing and the ropes!

With the eagles and the grizzlies, and the gray silk tabouret!

With the servants and the grislies.

We'll be laying our plans while we're playing croquet

For a weekend in the mountains!

So inactive, that one has to lie down.

A weekend in the mountains where—

{their voices die down, and now begins scene five. the chapel where Dewey and Esme are currently staying. Dewey has just taken his own invitation off of the leg of a messanger eagle}

Esme: {speaking} What's it about? How did it find us?

Dewey: {singing} A weekend in the mountains.

The gnats in their hives.

The shallow worldly figures.

The frivolous lives.

The devil's companions know not whom they serve,

It might be instructive to observe.

{now all seven voices sing different snatches at once}


We're off!

A weekend in the mountains—

The gnats in their hives—

I'm thinking it out.


We'll take the car.

There's no need to shout.

We'll bring the champagne.

We're off!

We are?

We're off on our way, what a beautiful day—

While we're playing croquet—

While strolling the slopes—

The weather is spectacular!

We're off on our way—

What a beautiful day for a weekend in the mountains!

How amusing—

How delightfully droll—

A weekend in the mountains—



{that entire number was precisely five pages long! ugh}


"Hack!" Chubs hacked, expelling water from his lungs by coughing, "Cough! Sputter! Retch!"


"Isadora!" Chubs noticed his dear woman, and took her in his arms, "Are you alright?"

Isadora nodded, shaking water out of her hair, "Y-y-yeah."

"Darling, you're cold." Chubs felt her hands, noting how ferociously she was shivering, "Come, take my coat." he pulled off his old blazer—a garment that he had been wearing since the fire at the Hotel Plot Twist, that past January—and wrapped it around Isadora's shoulders.

"Thanks." she smiled, engulfing Chubs in a hug.

"What ho!" came a wild voice.


Chubs and Isadora raced over to the other member of their party, "Old boy!" Chubs embraced Duncan.

"Dear sister!" he clapped Isadora on the back, "Where's Violet?"

"You mean—she's not with you?" Chubs paled.

"No." Duncan buried his face in his hands, "I last saw her being carried off upstream when our boat turned."

He cast a reproachful glare at his sister, but did not actually say anything. What he did say, at length, was this: "We'd better head up the peak. Kit Snicket's chateau is supposedly on top of Mount Fickle-Nickle." he pointed to the tall peak that rose above the others. It was still a long way off. We'll find Sunny there. And maybe we'll stumble across Mum on the way. And Violet."

The way he mentioned the last two people, indicated that Duncan himself didn't believe that they would ever find them—dead or alive—out in these frozen wastes.

As it happened, his companions agreed with him.

They trooped across the rocky bed which, even in this month of April, was caked in hoarfrost. The three were perfectly silent as they walked along, not even humming or stopping for breath. And, at last Chubs spoke.

"I say we sing a traveling song! It'll ease our minds a wonder!"

Isadora frowned, "No, Chubs. I'd rather not—"

But Chubs was already launching away.

THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT {technically from The Lion King}

Chubs: Weeeeeeee—a-wee-am- bum-buh-way—

{now, Duncan joins in, swaying back and forth with Chubs to the time of the music}

A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah!

{Isadora face-palms as Chubs begins his solo}

Chubs: In the jungle, the mighty jungle—

The lion sleeps tonight.

In the jungle, the giant jungle, the lion sleeps tonight—

Isadora: {relenting} O-ahhhhhh—ah-ah-ahhhh!

Chubs: {overlapping her} Weeeeeeee—a-wee-am- bum-buh-way—

Duncan: {overlapping him} A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah—

Chubs: Near the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight.

Near the village, the quiet village, the lion sleeps tonight—

Isadora: O-ahhhhhh—ah-ah-ahhhh!


Chubs: {overlapping her again} Weeeeeeee—a-wee-am- bum-buh-way—

Duncan: {overlapping him again} A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah—

{wailing solo time!}



Chubs: {taking Isadora's hands} Hush, my darling.

Don't fear, my darling.

The lion sleeps tonight.

{Isadora continues wailing}

Hush, my darling.

Don't fear, my darling.

The lion sleeps tonight.


Chubs: {more overlapping} Weeeeeeee—a-wee-am-bum-buh-bum-buy way—

Duncan: {and one last overlap} A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah! A-wimowah!

Isadora: WOOO—

{she stops short}

Chubs: {speaking} Why did you stop? It was just getting good!

Isadora: Don't you hear it?

Duncan: What?

Isadora: That buzzing noise.

Duncan: The only reason for making a buzzing noise that I know of, is if you're a bee!

Chubs: Stop quoting Winnie-the-Pooh, Duncan. There are no bees in these mountains.

Isadora: Than what is it?

Chubs: {matter-of-factly} Gnats. The dandruff gnats, to be precise.

Isadora: Are the dandruff gnats dangerous, by any chance?

Chubs: Well, that all depends on how you look at things—

{the buzzing noise is suddenly very close. at that very moment, a swarm of dandruff gnats rise up from a hive that rather resembles a pile of dung}

Duncan: DEAR GOD!

{the gnats immediately set to, with their veracious stinging}

Chubs: {writhing on the floor, practically covered in gnats} THE AGONY—THEY'RE EATING ME ALIVE!

Isadora: IT BURNS!



Violet opened her eyes. She was faint, weak—certainly she had been badly hurt when she had hit her head. What had it been? A stone adrift in the stream? Perhaps.

But who had moved her? For this certainly was not the stream, nor did their seem to be any rushing water near here. It was twilight. The last light of day shining down on—green fields?

Yes, this whole place was vibrant and full of life. The peaks of the Dandruff Mountains were very close, on every side, yet here were trees and wildflowers, even a freshwater lake, which does not count a a body of rushing water, as the water in it does not rush.

Someone had laid a blanket on her, Violet realized. It was a scratchy thing, and Violet noticed that it was woven from reeds, likely the same reeds that grew in the lake-bed.

Violet had no further time to process these confounding truths, for a shadow fell over her. Violet turned, and she saw him.

He was about six feet tall, and was magnificently built; though he looked like—

"Duncan?" she breathed. But no, it couldn't be him. Where Duncan was freckly, this boy's skin was tanned. Where Duncan's sandy hair was cut short and cropped, this boy's equally sandy hair was shoulder-length and unkempt. This boy, was as strong as a bear, and clad in a shirt and trousers of dried reeds, much like the sheet Violet as wrapped in.'

But his face—

It was so like Duncan's.

ONCE UPON A DREAM {from Sleeping Beauty}

Violet: {rising} I know you.

I've walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you—

The gleam in your eyes in so familiar a gleam.

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.

But if I know you—

I know what you'll do.

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream—

{she backs away a bit, still unsure as to who this person is. the boy, though, comes up to her}

Boy: I know you.

I walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you—

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam—

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.

But if I know you—

I know what you'll do.

You'll leave this place, before I'm forced to kick you off my land.

Violet: {speaking} What?


The boy pursed his lips, "Who are you? I haven't seen another person in this forest since a band of hikers were killed by the eagles."

"I'm Violet Baudelaire." Violet paused, not sure of how best to go about this strange man who wanted nothing more than for her to leave, "Who are you?"

"I'm Quigley." the boy had an unusually luscious voice for someone so rough-around-the-edges, "Quigley Quagmire."

"Quigley Quagmire." Violet repeated the name under her breath. This was the third Quagmire sibling. The one they had set out to find. It hadn't been so long ago that Alice Quagmire had told them—kind of—about her third child, whom she had sent to the ZYK Headquarters in the mountains, to go to school.

Evidently, Alice hadn't known that the place no longer existed, or she had some sort of ulterior motive for wanting her son in the mountains. Isadora and Duncan hadn't fully believed in Alice's story, and had wanted to go into the Dandruff Mountains to find Alice and Sunny.

But here Violet was. Quigley was real. And she was talking to him.

What was she to say? How would she tell him all about his lost family? She had to say something—

"Do you live here?" was what she settled for at last.

"Yes. I have lived her ever since the last outpost was destroyed."

"ZYK, you mean?"

"Yes. After the largest headquarters was taken down by a train, the remaining outposts began to fail. I had only spent two years in my studies, when we were stormed by the Snicketian police. For, after the rise of Lemony to the throne, there has been no alliance between the government and ZYK."

Violet couldn't believe this, "Why didn't you try to head down to civilization?" she didn't want to say to your family just yet. It might make Quigley suspicious that she knew his siblings.

"I preferred it here. This particular little glade is the Valley of the Four Deuces, formally the Zebras of Yarrow and Kronkite. ZYK gave it that ridiculous old name, before the mapmakers gave it a new one."


"Me." Quigley shrugged, "I pen maps of Snicket Land, in my spare time. Come and let me show you some of my work."

It was now dark and quiet, as Quigley took Violet's arm and led her over to the lake, where a crude hovel stood. It was hewn of a milky white stone that presumably came from the lake itself.

"My workshop." Quigley responded to Violet's puzzled look.

Through a little niche they went, and Violet found herself standing in a low-lying, damp-smelling place.

It was marvelous, really. There were flat stones stacked in pride of place, ringing the hut like a second wall. These stones had been cut into as though with a pick and chisel. These were Quigley's maps.

Going from her knowledge of Snicket Land, Violet spotted maps of the Hinterlands, Dirty Bastard, the Dark Forest, the Great Sea, and even the very mountains she was in now.

"This is incredible." Violet gasped, "How long have you been working on these?"

"Ever since I came to be hear. I had heard all of the stories of the outside world, and I remembered as well, my life as a child. I used this information to create this chamber."

"So you're a cartographer." Violet surmised.

"No. I make maps."

"That's what a cartographer does."

Quigley raised his brow, "Really? Hm. Well, I suppose you'd better leave."

"Leave?" Violet faltered, "But—but—" she suddenly remembered, as if coming out of a dazed stupor, that Quigley was the brother of two of her best friends, "Quigley! You have to come with me!"

"What? Why?" Quigley took a step back, as if his calm demeanor had suddenly fell away.

"Your brother and sister!" Violet beamed, "Duncan, Isadora. They're alive; they're in these mountains!"

Quigley grimaced, "I haven't seen my family in years. What do you know about them?"

"They're friends of mine!" Violet paused, thinking about Duncan—he was more than a friend, at least, "Come on, you have to come with me—"

"No." Quigley said firmly, "We'd get lost immediately out on those slopes. This valley is the safest spot between here and the forest. Besides, I don't want to see them."

"Why not?"

"I think," Quigley began rather slowly, "That if you wish to stay here, and in safety, you will refrain from speaking about my family."

A/N: A/N: I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again, so I'll sign off with the hope that you're intrigued enough by Quigley's entrance at long last to check out when we next post a chapter!

Update Coming at the Soonest Opportunity!;)