Dr Who and The Glade of the Gods

1



   Jennifer Bloom was walking along the path through the gardens toward the arts wing of the University. It was just after 1pm on a sunny day and her next class was not until 2.30. Her intention was to find a seat and eat her sandwich and drink her latte. There were a lot of students about, walking, sitting on the grass, some reading books, some chatting. Just your average sunny Spring day at the University. There was a lightness of spirit pervading. Jennifer was feeling chipper. Winter was becoming a memory, though the mornings were still chill. 
   The student had passed about halfway across when she saw the Tardis. She knew it immediately. Not a huge fan, but she had watched enough episodes to know it was the Dr Who police box. She smiled. As she approached, she watched as several students mingled around it taking photos and striking, presumably, Dr Who related poses. Laughing. Chatting. Most other students ignored it. Not everyone was into Doctor Who. Jennifer smiled. Nerds probably. Judging from their clothes. Yes. 
 As it happened, there was a seat not far away from it. So, Jennifer slipped her bag from her shoulder, and laid it beside her as she sat. She rifled through it to find her sandwich, still holding her latte with her free hand. 
   For a few minutes she sipped and munched, not really taking much notice of anything, staring across the park to the busy city road, hardly noticing the trams and cars and buses passing. She did not have much on at the moment. Not too much to occupy her thoughts. For those few minutes as she ate she was not even aware of her own thoughts, that’s if she was actually having any as she stared without focus. 
   On dropping her sandwich wrappers in a bin by the seat, she reclined against the back and closed her eyes, face unturned to feel the sunlight. Feeling languid and happy. And she soon nodded. 
   When she opened her eyes, Jennifer saw a man. The man was standing in front of her. Dressed very dapper in a grey flannel shirt. He had black shoes. A little scuffed. On his head he wore a hat. 
   “Hello, young lady. I’m not disturbing you am I? I don’t mean to stare, but I was assessing you. So I guess I do mean to stare.”
   Jennifer found herself smiling. “Are you Doctor Who?”
   The man seem genuinely surprised. 
   “You know me?”
   “Well, you’re not a Doctor Who I’ve seen before. But that’s a 1940’s or 1950’s suit, isn’t it? And is that a Bromley top hat you’re wearing? I’m studying fashion as part of my course. Odd apparel, l.o.l. I assume you’re about 800 years old, but you don’t show it. You’re the Doctor. Everyone knows the Doctor.” And Jennifer laughed, having instantly decided to play along. Whoever the man was he was working for the Dr Who people, this had be a promotion of some sort, and there was just something really likeable about him. Though his eyes were both warm yet cool and penetrating somehow. Go figure.
   “Amazing,” the man exclaimed. “You’ve surprised me. I don’t know you. How do you know me?” 
   “I guessed it from your police box. And your clothes of course. Is it stuff the Doctor wears in an episode?” 
  “Episode? You are a baffling girl. And one moment you call me the Doctor and the next you speak of the Doctor as if he is not me. Fascinating, really.” 
  “Are you doing some kind of promotion for the show? For the t.v. show. You must be. I’m not a huge fan...though I do like some of the things I’ve seen.”
  “I am in a television show, is that what you’re saying?”
  “You are fun,” Jennifer laughed again. She really liked this man. Was he English? His accent sounded English. Though, somehow, not quite. “You really do this well. You know, they should make you the next Doctor Who.”
  “Make me the next Doctor Who? Who is Doctor Who?”
  “You, apparently. Is it a promotion? Are you going to give me a Doctor doll? Or a pamphlet?” 
   The man laughed. “This is not only perplexing but delightful. Am I to suppose that there is a television show with a Doctor in it? And the television show is called ‘Doctor Who’?”
  “That’s it,” Jennifer answered, still going along with him. Not to humour him, but because he was humouring her, and why not enjoy the game? 
  The man smiled brightly. “If I had time, I’d stay and watch this television show you mention. But I can’t just now. Time is a little pressing. I’ve popped sideways through time and had no idea I’d end up here. But the coordinates are entered in the Tardis memory so I can jump back safely. And I can bring you back here. All going well. If so, some time may have passed by then. Yes, you’re just the kind of girl I’m looking for.”
   Jennifer laughed. “Will it be Daleks to defeat? Or Cybermen?” 
   The man looked totally surprised at that. The look on his face was so genuine, Jennifer felt surprised herself. Suddenly, all humour fled her mind. 
   After a long silence, somehow fraught, and Jennifer just could not comprehend why, the man said, almost philosophically. ‘You know, I really should find time to view this television show of yours. But I must do the hop back very soon. Another day, perhaps.” Then his lips twisted slightly in a peculiarly pleasant yet melancholy smile. “”Would you, perchance, like to take a look inside the Tardis? It’s bigger inside than it is outside...but I guess you know that already?” The look the man now gave her was warm yet disturbingly serious. 
   ‘I do,” Jennifer said, feeling uneasy. She felt safe. She didn’t feel safe.
   “You have a name, I suppose?” He smiled. 
   “Yes, I do.... it’s Jennifer. And you are?”
   “You already know. Are you being coy? No matter. You cut a casual figure, young lady. A pair of black skinny jeans, black patent heels and a white midriff-baring top. What year is it?”
   The man had a really disarming way about him. 
   “It’s 2022.”
   “Did you say it was the year 2022?” The man mused for a moment. “Yes, you did. Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. I think I recognise the rail cars. Transitional post-Feminist Period. This kind of historical terminology is never particularly accurate, but close enough. It does give me something more on which to progress our relationship.” 
“Relationship?”
“Yes. Until I get to know you beyond historical stereotypes. Humans always turn out to be individuals. It’s what I like about them. And one needs to start somewhere. I have had humans try to kill me on first sight before I could ever make adequate assessments. Not polite that, though it’s a question of perspective ultimately. I much prefer starting like we have.” And the Doctor smiled. As if he had discovered an age old verity. “Anyway, come this way, and I’ll show you the big inside.”
   Jennifer went with him. She trusted him. Why? Jennifer sensed danger. But it wasn’t this man who was dangerous. What peculiar thoughts she was having. This man who seemed to be around fifty years old, yet younger... and far older. Yes, peculiar thoughts. 
  The man opened the door of the Tardis. Jennifer looked inside. Her eyes widened. She blinked. 
  “You seem surprised...” the man said, with uncertainty. Like he was just as surprised again himself. They kept surprising each other. 
   The man spoke again, “Do you think you are imagining what you see? Is that it? You puzzle me!” 
   “No, it’s real alright. I know the difference between reality and fantasy.”
  “Then why do you seem so perplexed?”
   Jennifer did not reply immediately. Instead, she walked all the way around the police box where it sat parked on the grass. Returning to the door after doing her circuit, she stared in through door for a few pregnant seconds, then looked straight into the man’s eyes. 
   “I know this is real, Doctor, and I know it shouldn’t be.” 
  
   

A new offering!! Blimey, it's been years.

Though there's nothing alarming so far, wasn't quite sure this was a genuine piece of Orwelliana. No jelly or whatnot. But patience, I'm sure it will come in time.

I’m going for fanfic. On a whim.

Yes, it does have the whiff of fanfic about it.  Like the lighting for a soap opera, you can spot it immediately without knowing exactly what the tip-off is.  Possibly the bland and beautiful protagonist. Or the lack of apparent danger.

halfwise wrote:Yes, it does have the whiff of fanfic about it.  Like the lighting for a soap opera, you can spot it immediately without knowing exactly what the tip-off is.  Possibly the bland and beautiful protagonist.  Or the lack of apparent danger.

Bland and beautiful protagonist? I hope you don’t mean Jennifer Bloom! I never mentioned she was beautiful. I was leaving that up to the reader to decide!

oooh I like this a lot. please continue

p.s can you make the font slightly smaller?

Mrs Figg wrote:oooh I like this a lot. please continue    

p.s can you make the font slightly smaller?

Fair cop Miss. I didn’t know how I did that in the first place.

I’ll do me best. 

One of my whims. Chatting on the Who thread I suggested the kind of Dr Who I’d like. Of course, I respect the Archet Bugle Dr Who (Who doesnt respect those fine tales!) but I thought maybe to get what I like I might have to do it myself. Which I might quickly regret starting! 

I have some basic ideas. So, I guess I’ll just have to see as I go. Let the tale grow in the telling. Or shrink, who knows. Glad you like it so far, Julia. 

Fair warning. I hope it’s funny in parts, but it won’t be on the saucy scale of Ol’ Anon. I’m trying for something more Dr Who trad (not very recent modern Dr Who). You may find it a little old fashioned. So tighten your overall braces.

2


Jennifer had seen some episodes of Dr Who. She could not remember details, or the doctors names, the actors that is, but she was aware there were several of them. She was trying to place them inside the Tardis. Approaching what she knew must be the control console, she tried to think if it matched any she had seen on t.v. before. But she couldn’t be sure. 

‘Billie Piper,’ she said suddenly. ‘Pertwee, I think. And Tom Baker. I might remember others. Like I said,’ she said turning to face the man who was just inside the Tardis door. ‘I’m partly familiar. It’s a good show. I just haven’t watched it a lot. My little brother, Teddy loves it.’ Jennifer laughed. ‘You should have gone to Broady Primary School. He’d love to go with you...’ Then her expression clouded. ‘This is real, isn’t it.’
‘Yes. And it shouldn’t be. I heard you say it. Perplexing. I learn something every day. That’s not so bad. You know, young lady, I’m only just getting used to this body and brain as it is. I was recently a female, you know.’
    ‘Yes, and Teddy wasn’t happy about it. A lot of fans had mixed feelings... This is real. This is real. It’s crazy. It’s a huge lol. But it’s real!’
   The man laughed. ‘Yes, it’s real. But I’m even starting to wonder.’
  ‘Do I call you ‘Doctor’?’
   ‘Is that what I’m called in your t.v. show?’
   ‘Yes,’ Jennifer laughed. Then frowned. ‘You’re The Doctor. You are, aren’t you. It’s  a statement. I know you are. It’s a huge lol. But I know you are!”
   “I’m glad we’ve sorted that out, young lady. I was beginning to wonder myself. And I thought things had gone smoothly enough this time in the transition. It’s only been a day or two, though across time, it might be ten thousand years. Just my little joke. Now this ‘lol’ of yours. It means ‘laugh out loud’?”
   “Yes...”
   “Pure guess you know.”
   He took something from the pocket of his trouser pants. Pointed it at the Tardis door. There was a beep. The doorway became sealed by a door sliding up from the floor.
  The Doctor then walked around past her to the other side of the Tardis console. ‘I’ve been lucky this time,” he said as he moved. “I’ve got my full faculties about me. Nothing runs smoothly, of course. You and your t.v. show have confused the life out of me.” Having reached his chosen destination, he began pushing buttons on the console. He looked at her with his penetrating eyes. “I don’t mean literally.” 
  “No, I can see that.”
  “May I say, you seem quite unruffled. Do you, contrary to your assertions to the contrary, think what is happening is not really real at all?”
   “No, it’s real. I’m pretty down to earth about things though. I can know this is real, but be just as sure I’m dreaming anyway. In a dream you don’t know you’re dreaming.”
    “Not always.... So you plan just to go along with things until you wake up?”
   “Yes.”
   “Perhaps you are in a t.v show? I guess that’s possible.”
   “Maybe. I’m open to answers. It’s so real it’s kind of unreal.”
    “Tell me. In this t.v show of yours, do Companions ever die?”
   “I think so. You’d best ask Teddy. He’d know.”
   “A bit late for that. We’ve already moved from your planet.”
   “What did you mean by Companions dying?”
   “I just thought it correct procedure to draw your attention to the prospect. Thinking you might get killed might help you avoid it. You know, rather than walking straight into it. I can make good guesses on some things, as you no doubt are now aware, but as to what happens where we’re going, I’m not prepared to guess. I apologise for that. And I make no promises either way.”
   “Where are we going?”
   “To the planet Earth. Different universe. Different Earth to yours. Or alternate. Parallel. The details lose themselves in the end. Something for pedants. Some Timelords are, of course.” 
   “And why do you need me!”
   “For a female sacrifice. We’re going to a village in remote England during what is called in some universes, the Dark Ages. Post the Roman evacuation, but some years prior to Arthur. Do you know about these things? Did you have a King Arthur? I assume you would have in your universe. It is, of course, dangerous to assume.”
  “Our Arthur is generally thought to be fictional, if that’s what you mean?”
  “A television creation? Is that it?”
  “No. His legend has been around longer than that. Longer than t.v. has been around.”
  “Mmmm.... I might have to visit your world and see one day if it’s actually the one I think it is. Fascinating business, really.”
  Jennifer smiled again. This was all very amazing. Then a sober thought entered her head. “What do you mean by needing a female sacrifice?” 
  “You don’t know the concept?”
  “Yes. But... but.... I don’t know what to ask next.”
  “You’ll be sacrificed to the Gods of the Glade. That’s probably the answer to whatever question lies unformed in your head. Mind you, I don’t think it’s really gods we’ll be dealing with. And before you ask, no, I don’t know what it is we’ll be dealing with. I just don’t think it’s gods. In the universe we’re heading to, there are no gods. That’s another parallel universe altogether. Or is it? I’m more confident than I should be. You know how it’s is, young lady, lol.” 
  “Why did you need to find a sacrificial victim from my universe?”
  “It was just more efficient for me. The village had run out of suitable sacrifices and the next village was miles away. And those villagers, I’m pretty sure, would have shot me full of arrows trying to buy a girl there anyway. They aren’t ones for selling their children, male or female. Which I find commendable. Easier, young lady, to jump to a parallel universe. I was pretty sure I’d end up in a human world. The Tardis is good at finding those kinds of worlds. She recorded the coordinates too. Which is helpful. If you survive, and let’s be optimistic, I can return you safely.”
  “So you want to use me to attract these gods who you don’t think are gods, and then you can...?”
  “I’ll have to work that out when I know what I’m dealing with.”
  “Weird. I’m going to be a virgin sacrifice. That wasn’t among any of my plans for today, lol.”
  “Virginity is not a prerequisite.”
  Jennifer found herself blushing, much to her own surprise. ‘What do you mean by that?”
  “Young lady, I stated the facts succinctly. What I said was what I meant. You must excuse me now. I need to do some manual programming. The old girl can’t do everything herself.”
   Jennifer studied the Doctor carefully. She smiled quietly. This might all be mad, no matter how perplexingly ordinary it all seemed. Sensing her stare, the Doctor glanced up at her. “Is there something?”
   “Nah,” Jennifer replied, putting on what she called her Ocker accent, which she sometimes put on at parties among her uni friends. “She’ll be right, mate. She’ll be right.” Even though she wasn’t at all sure it would be. 
   “Your optimism and humour are endearing, young lady,” the Doctor opined, a little distantly, though he was now smiling as he continued to push buttons sending off beeps accompanied by the flash of multiple coloured lights on the console.

Ah, so there's the danger. And we're off, and I'm liking it.

halfwise wrote:Ah, so there's the danger.   And we're off, and I'm liking it.

That’s encouraging... though if you didn’t like it, I could just, you know, nick off somewhere... not implying I’m lazy though.....or thinking I might have bitten off more than I can chew on a mere whim... 

I'm wondering if your plan is ahead of the Doctor's or not. I like how nonchalant he is about how he's going to get through this.

halfwise wrote:I'm wondering if your plan is ahead of the Doctor's or not.  I like how nonchalant he is about how he's going to get through this.

Yeah. I’m not into all the pathos. I want him your fifties Pertwee type. Though for clothing, I looked up Cary Grant. I want my Who to be quite in control of himself. A gentleman. Savvy with all sexes. Takes a young woman as she comes. I want Jennifer to be down to earth, smart, quite interested in art and history. Effortlessly herself. It’ll be interesting - for me - to see how things go. I have a basic idea what the gods are, and the main point of their presence on the planet, where they come from (broadly speaking). You know, even as I type, suddenly I have an idea roughly what they look like. Funny, I’ve often come to the next part of my tales without any clear idea about any details. Almost like, oh yeah,and then this happens, lol! In anything I write, if I plan too much, i kill inspiration, and effort falls away. I thought, okay, what now? When writing pure farce, it just comes. This is fanfic. A different beast? But suddenly. Maybe I’m thinking it will work out kind of the same. Hooray! Part 2 I thought was going to to be murder to write. But it wasn’t. It was a pleasure. Hopefully 3 goes the same way! The two characters seem to know themselves already. They’re just being themselves so far. And yet their new to me! Go figure.

Whats an Ocker accent?

Mrs Figg wrote:Whats an Ocker accent?

Ultra Ozzie. Think Crocodile Dundee’s mates in the top end of Australia.

I guess this is ocker? The look on that male journalists face is priceless mate.

Being an equal opportunity piss taker, if I meet just one of these people I ain't coming to 'Merica, no way!   OMG the woman with the pink jumper and the glasses.

I like the guy who had a tornado take his hamburger.

You find these people scary? Seem pretty run of the mill to me.

 my favourite is the guy who is "struttin dat ass"

Mrs Figg wrote:I guess this is ocker? The look on that male journalists face is priceless mate.  

That’s him orright, Scooter. These are the ockers I once used to arrest, lol.

HN

Mrs Figg wrote:Being an equal opportunity piss taker, if I meet just one of these people I ain't coming to 'Merica, no way!    OMG the woman with the pink jumper and the glasses.

I confess to not knowing what part of Oz these folks come from.

3

   There were various noises and shudders made by the Tardis - the old girl! - and Jennifer had lost herself among them, an interested and unresisting piece of flotsam carried weightlessly amid them, though her feet were floor-bound while the Tardis handled the flying, or whatever it was doing. Many thoughts were going on, and though vivid, mostly disconnected. This was not a normal event for her by any means. An understatement, of course. 
   Presently, both noises and shudders subsided. 
   Waking from her semi-coma, Jennifer asked, “Have we landed?”
   “Materialised, to be exact. Before we exit, you’ll need to dress accordingly.”
  “So I won’t be sacrificed naked?”
   “No, it’s too cold. Mid-Winter. Maybe next time....if there is a next time. You’ll need to dress yourself in the style of the villagers. You can keep your current clothes on underneath them. I’m curious. Where did you get the naked thing from?”
   “My imagination. I have a vivid one.”
   “Virgins. Naked sacrifice now. My female Companions have never jumped to those conclusions. Your fascination with those ideas come as something of a novelty.”
   “I’m not fascinated with those things.”
   “Again, you perplex me. The evidence is you are. They jumped to mind quite swiftly. Surely they are close to your tongue. Therefore, somewhere up front in your mind. Where do they come from? Dreams? Your fantasies? From poor attention showed in class?”
   “No. Maybe from films. Well, no... I don’t know... Hey! You’re pulling my chain. I know you are.”
   “Pardon?”
   “Teasing me.”
   “Virgins! Naked women being sacrificed? You are a human female, no doubt there. These things came to you’re mind swiftly. I admit to suspicion, young lady. You let slip deep and private thoughts! Or are you just quick witted? Are you in fact teasing me? Or do you seek to draw me to your allurements? I am not one to go that direction.
   “Gay?” Jennifer asked with a serious expression which her smiling eyes belied. 
   “At times. I do have the occasional good day. Not every minute I experience is darkness and danger. Though that’s hardly to point. I’m a different species. That’s the point. Something you might not be aware of. But we can dissect all this a little later if you like, young lady. To action. You’ll find a storeroom beyond that door. Look around and find something suitably Dark Ages. Something you think adequately Saxon. No need to be too precise. The villagers here are quite poor. They make do with all sorts of garments, some sewn from old Roman cloth, others from hessian and jute and whatever else holds together after a fashion.” 
   Jennifer gave him a seeking glance, then gave a tiny shrug and smile and stepped across to the door he had mentioned; it opened automatically on her arrival. She walked through into a huge room containing a veritable museum load of assorted things there assembled. She shook her head and smiled ruefully. 
   “Crazy. Totally crazy.”  
    She set to her task to find something adequate. 

    The Doctor was waiting for her, still clad in his fifties suit and hat. Standing where she had left him. He had not moved. His facial expression, faintly amused, had not discernibly altered since she’d left. When he woke to her return, he gave a little nod, and his expression became instantly evaluative. 
     “You look quite the maid,” he congratulated her. “Certainly not a farmwife with children. Ultimately, you do need to look unwed. Wives are not generally sacrificed.”
   Jennifer appraised him sharply. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”
   “Hardly. Nice dress. Probably more Summer than spring. Not too posh. Would you mind finding a ribbon to tie your hair. These are rustic folk and they tie up their hair, both male and female, for the sake of practicality.”
   “Okay.” 
   “Something young and pretty, if you don’t mind. Something feminine.”
   “Okay.” Jennifer stared at him, appraising him. Tried to read him. 
    He smiled suddenly. “Now, you would not want to think I was Gay, would you?” 
  “Hey!”
  “Young lady! Enough of this dallying. Do as I ask. Be a good girl.”
  “Be a good girl, bloody hell. Edwardian,” she muttered, amused. “Full on Edwardian. I thought you were more Cary Grant than that.” 
   She turned away to return to the storeroom.
   
   On once again returning, while tying the ribbon she had found, she instantly accosted the Doctor. “And so what are you going to wear?”
   “I’m wearing it. I’m assumed to be some kind of strange Demi-god or angel. It’s not clear to me exactly. But it’s clear they’ve seen me as from somewhere other. The arrival of the Tardis outside their mead hall caused something of a stir. When I stepped out, the whole village had already assembled. I was clad like this. What an apparition I was. But they are accustomed to me this way ... or somewhat. You need to be one of them. I’ll say you’re from another village some distance from their own. Which is true. What they make of it all is their business.”
   The Doctor walked over to the door by which they had first entered the Tardis, and he withdrew the gadget or whatever it was again that he had used somehow to close the door earlier.
  “What is that thing, anyway?”
  “You’ve not seen it before?”
   “I can’t remember.”
   “A sonic screwdriver. It has several uses.”
   “How does it work? Is it some kind of remote?”
   “Remote? Not heard that term. What’s your basic knowledge of electronics and physics?”
    “Pretty basic.”
    “I’ll explain another time in that case, when we have time. Think of it as a magic wand for now. That’s something like what the villagers think it is. Come along now.”
   The door slid down and disappeared into the floor. The Doctor motioned for her to precede him. A natural gentleman, perhaps. On exiting the Tardis, Jennifer turned to see the door had already closed behind them. The Doctor then swung shut the outer police box door. 
   “This really shouldn’t be true.”
   “That’s the second time you’ve said that. If you say it three times, will the mere utterance of it again unravel the very fabric of time, the universe and everything? I’m thinking, not. Come along. Hello, everyone. I’m back.”
   That was when Jennifer turned from facing the Tardis to those gathering to greet and inspect them.

Oh good, I was starting to believe the story had been Norked out of existence (this could be a Doctor Who theme: the metaphysics of Norking).   But it's a sonic screwdriver.  

I've come to realize that nobody in this forum follows a basic Tolkien principle: he wraps up nearly every chapter so  you can go to bed after reading them.    The only times he leaves you dangling is when the orcs carry off Frodo into Cirith Ungol and when the King of the Nazgul bashes through the door of Minas Tirith.  But folks here are always writing cliffhangers.

I really hope its not Ockers.

Fanfic, Julia. Honest. I’m doing my best. But I”m not sure I’m doing the genuine Who here. The feel. The warp. The weft. Difficult, sweet chops, when you’re actually too close to what you’re doing. Maybe a sheilah like you can set me straight! 

halfwise wrote:Oh good, I was starting to believe the story had been Norked out of existence (this could be a Doctor Who theme: the metaphysics of Norking).   But it's a sonic screwdriver.  

I've come to realize that nobody in this forum follows a basic Tolkien principle: he wraps up nearly every chapter so  you can go to bed after reading them.    The only times he leaves you dangling is when the orcs carry off Frodo into Cirith Ungol and when the King of the Nazgul bashes through the door of Minas Tirith.  But folks here are always writing cliffhangers.

You know, I knew I had the screwdriver wrong. One of those: ‘What the fook was that thing called?’ things. I just had to write once started. And between part 1 & 2 I’d forgotten to check it up. I write most freely when flying from the seat of my pants, and, to be honest, I can’t be bothered with distractions like ‘research’ often enough while actually writing. If I think to do a tiny bit of research before or after writing, then I can get these little details right when it comes to the actual writing. Hope that makes some sense. I’m armed then, you see. 

Also, I’m like Jennifer Bloom in the sense I like Dr Who but I’m not strictly a fan in the sense you guys are. I’m something of an imposter in that way, lol. I don’t truly know me stuff, mate. Stone the crows!

NOTE: It’s now a sonic screwdriver.