The Ladye Isabella grieveth much for her father Frederic, whomst she did’st love as a dutiful daughter, but did’st suffereth nonethelesseth, liken unto the sweet Matilda at the hands of her father, Herman.
Methinks Isabella doth remembereth too fondly in her grief!
Lord Frederic was liken unto Lord Herman in greediness and deceit!!
I fear some evil has truely entered the Castle of the Bench…am wearing my talisman with hope in mine heart, this used to be such a happy’eth place…
Have been given lots of potions from Morwenna and am now’eth going to hide’eth away…please’eth thou’ est catch the wicked one, I fear’eth I am not stong’eth enough to ward off this malevolent presence. Off now to’eth the room’eth no one knows of xx
By my trothe, my mother Beatrix do’st excelleth herself this day! She dost make ye finest pastyes in the kingdom! :smileyhappy: I shalt taketh some to those that aileth and grieveth this day!
My half-brother Tristan and the sweet Ladye Matilda do comforteth each other in their distress.
I hath been thinking that things do stinketh of a double-cross!!! Who did’st have reason to kill?
Lord Herman wast to gain from the betrothal of ye son, Lord Conrad, to Frederic’s Isabella.
Lord Frederic wast a sworn enemy until that time! Verily, Lord Frederic wast to gainest most!
Yea, marriage unto the sweet Matilda and thus a way into the Castle of Bench to seekest out ye treasure!
He wast betrayed methinks!! There is one, murderer most foul, who didst knoweth his secret plans!!!
Black-bumin’ shame is your garb, quo’ they, and syne gin you tum your face, it lowes wi a reid and laithly flame, that springs frae the evil place…says Arabella (the Scottish wench) hahahaha!
Have no idea what is going on whatsoever:smileyembarrassed:, don’t know who is who?? or what is what??? Please say someone else is the same, if not blame it all on the drugs and ofcourse the mead…
Back to my hideaway to try figure it all out and have to stop adding 'eth in the world that is not Benchland, appear to have no marbles left xx
Many hath asketh my mother Beatrix the origins of her two sons for, verily, Tristan and I are halfen-brothers and we looketh not alike! We knowest not who our fathers be.
Woo hoo Kay thought it was only me who’eth afflicted:smileywink:!!
Cause someone somewhere has not lost’eth the plot unfortunately ist not’eth me or thou :smileyvery-happy:,:smileyvery-happy:xx
As Morwenna: I am a bit hacketh off - the curse has not yet produceth a CONFESSION.
Thinks to self: I musteth be loosing my touch as an evil scary hag, this lot are scared of NOTHING… must put on pointy witch-type thinking-eth hat, and cometh up with something really scaaaaarey. A week in solitary with Simon Cowell or Brian Sewell perhaps…
grumpy Morwenna
Soon-to-be-unemployable scary Hag
Thank thee, thank thee, thank thee, Katy. I have just satteth reading the last few posts with absolutely no understanding!
I am so tired after a long, stressful day (Nay, 7 1/2 WEEKS!) at school (with frequent visits to the FF bench! :smileymad:) that I just cannot get my brain to follow the convoluted language never mind the plot of the story!
I will attempt to peruse it all again next week when I have more time and energy…eth!
(Also trying to steer clear of the panic and/or wobbly bench(es) because my boob has been tender and sore - and bigger?? - for the last few days! 
I KNOW it’s done this before, and Onc & surgeon both say it’s normal, but when I’m overtired, I just can’t switch off the ‘What if?’ monster! )
Errectingeth an enormous ETH bench down by yonder lake of guilt in the land of Bench. 
The story thus far:
Morwenna & the Friar Jerome are worn-outeth. They hath sought in vain the one who did’st commit the foul deeds. No one confesseth!
It doth transpire Tristan & Justin are the sons of Beatrix the Cook.
One is Lord Herman’s child! Beatrix hath not named the father of the other, as yet! She sayeth one son should’st receive his dues.
Lords Herman & Frederic did’st plot together to arrangeth marriages & the sharing of treasure.
Frederic did’st come by the treasure mappe, deceive Herman, & go alone to seeketh the fortune. He did’st pay for his greed! Beatrix did’st find the mappe, which Morwenna hath kept safe.
So, who did’st USE this prophesy, of returning rightful owner & present family’s demise?
and did’st USE knowledge of Frederic’s deceit?
The castle sleepeth now, but one doth lie awake whose conscience be not clear.
Act 3 tomorrow: The murderer & the rightful heir - both shall be revealed anon!
Forsoothx, I did think I would never catch up, but verily, I have had muny a chuckle this last few moments, accompanied by delight which knows no bounds to find a gathering of friends round the Confused Bench, all ‘eth-thing’ together. Keepeth up the good work…
I depart on retreat on the morrow, so if I’m required the understudy with have to make it upeth as she goeth along (aside) “will anyone notice the difference?”
Forsooth! We seem to be participating in a lot of “ething and binding”? (sayeth that aloud! :p)
All thinketh that I am in my chamber prostrate with grief and hopefully all are now asleep. They knoweth not that I hath stolen clothes from ye washerwoman, borrowed a spade and am in search of ye treasure. I hath had sight of ye mappe and knoweth that t’ith buried between ye privy and ye outer wall. Oh no, someone cometh! I muste make haste back to mine chamber. But whoeth else is abroad this nyghte?
(Jack)
Lord Herman is DEAD!!! Arabella my wife sayeth I should ha’ been content with my Jester’s lot! Mercy me!! Now mayest I speak the truth. Oh, greedy foolish me!!
I confess I did’st see Lord Herman in the cellar, with Lord Frederic lying dead! I did’st receive such a shaking 'tis wonder I am still of a piece. He did’st warn me to sayeth nothing of this, on pain of death. Mayhap others now speaketh out who dareth not afore - for fear of our master!
My son is dead and Lord Frederick, my lover. too. Woe is me. Lord Frederick promiseth me that he wouldeth fynde ye treasure and we woulde ride awaye and live happily ever after. Now withe my Lord Herman also dead I have loste all.
Whateth shalle I do?
Wherevereth shall I go?
Whatevereth wille become of me?
Whoeth wille protect me?
Whereth do I fynde monies?
Entering a nunnery wille be ye laste resort!
Whoeth is accusynge me of selfishness, of onlye thinkynge of myselfe? T’is not true, I am prostrate with grief …until cometh the time when I starte diggynge for ye treasure again. T’is my only hope nowe.
Ahhh - but you DONT know where the map is buried!!! The Snotty Nosed Four Legged Beastie hath hidden it securely in her cave, forsooth, and no-one knoweth the location of the cave… so diggeth all you wish, the map is well concealed.
Morwenna (cackles with delight, waves scabby head in glee)
(Justin)
Verily, Beatrix, I beg thy pardon, and a pox on any who would’st cast nasturtiums on thy virtue!
Yet thy name to me is Mother - thou treateth me like thine own Tristan.
Thou spake trothe. My own mother is but a simple wench, my father I knoweth not!
Lawks-a-mercy! 'Tis whispered this day that Lord Herman did dyeth a most uncommon death!!!
Soooooooooo many dead’eth is it the plague??? I do not knoweth who ist alive’eth now??
Morwenna cackling and all the wooooooooooeths, will just roll another barrel of the olde mead down to mine secret room, where there appear’eth to be writing on the wall but as I cannot read’eth have no idea what it ist all about’eth…forsooth the pox, what’eth next’eth?
JCJ ouch, hope booby/dooby is better today! xx
As Friar: (if he’s still alive? Lost track!) Verily, the mead was poisonethed. Herman was wont to drinketh by the gallon and 'tne’er killeth hyme afore this day!
As JCJ: children writing messages to a teacher who’s leaving. One wrote: " I liyked it when Miss ******* geth us stickers for gud werk". Oh dear! now we’ve got 6 year olds at it with the ething!? 
Put my back out getting out of the car at work this am. Can’t take anti-inflammatories as I’m on the REACT trial, so I’m hoping my after dinner REACT dose will help! Full strength paracetamol on the go though, and Chillow deployed! Will be sentenced to a hard upright chair this evening as the sofa/arm chair not condusive to getting up and down with back pain! (Or the bed?! :() So much for slobbing out because I’m k******ed?!
apologiseth for notteth postingeth… is not good at creative writing ness
As Butler… succombeth to plague so drinketh self to oblivion with mead, hick, hick, hick…
As Peasant… burieth plague victims in wood… turns around just in time to be thwakedeth with a ladle by the cook who uttereth ‘that’ll teacheth thou to meddle…’
Oh-eth dear-eth me-eth!