Currently in Earphones: "The Twa Corbies" by Old Blind Dogs
Tonight, We shall Work.
We shall put on our boots with loathing, step out into the cold,
Retrieve our old love where it lies buried in the snow,
We shall carry it in and place it, in the dark once again,
And hasten to our work, to cleanse us of our pain.
Tonight, We shall Work.
We shall step to the forge, kindle the fires, heat the coals,
And try to blaze out the emptiness of our soul.
Give over our minds to the hammer and tongs,
And hope (with such sweat) to feel better before long.
Tonight, We shall Work.
We shall sit at the loom, speed the shuttle, begin to weave,
To lose ourselves and forget how to grieve,
Our souls we shall pour into the pattern laid bare
With deft fingers and quick mind, to lose all our care.
Tonight, We shall Work.
We shall spin the wheel, start the mould, work the clay
That we may smooth out the worries of the day.
As we wash the shape anew, so wash hate from our hands
And shape our souls like the clay, as stern fate commands.
Tonight, We shall Work.
After, we shall return to our hearth and our home
How we’ll feel, we shan’t know, either stay or to roam.
We’ll sleep as we can, at the end of long day,
And as to our dreams, they’ll come as they may.
Tonight, We shall Work.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
A Story of Swords, Part 7
Currently in Earphones: George Fenton's score to Deep Blue
Well now, it's certainly been a while since this old chestnut has been wheeled out, hasn't it?
I finally dug back into my documents and found that I indeed had written full drafts of the final two chapters in my old fanfic, and figured I might as well post them in all their clunky and unrefined glory. I mentioned in a previous post concerning this little yarn that I was writing an interstitial character chapter, but I found that I simply couldn't make a full run of it on the single handful of dialog I'd come up with. As such, Chapter 3.5 will probably never see the light of day, so you can check that off your lists.
In any case, here is the final portion of the duel and the aftermath, in this seventh installment (sixth chapter) of my Story of Swords...
Chapter 6: Chance and Doom
The two young men gave themselves over to the power of their swords, swinging at each other without reserve and letting the magical knowledge and ability of the blades take over. Like tides did the powers of the swords flow against each other.
Coinspinner would press the offense, finding a lucky opening and wounding its opponent in a flash of disbelief. However, the Sword of Chance could not defend against the savage backstroke of Doomgiver, and where the power of Coinspinner receded, the Sword of Justice flowed forward, hurling back the injuries from whence they came. Whenever Touchstone lost the small shred of concentration in his reckless abandon, however, his blade would over-extend in its desire to right the wrong and wound his opponent, which then was reflected back at him by the selfsame power.
There was still a savage grace to their swordplay, their attacks and defenses becoming wide and exaggerated as their energy began to be depleted. Small wounds appeared on each swordsman as one of the swords, then the other temporarily gained the upper hand. After a particularly fierce exchange, the two opponents staggered backward and stopped, both hunched forward and breathing hard with the effort.
“Why!” panted the young lord, “Why is Doomgiver not ending me?”
“You hold the Sword of Chance, and I the Sword of Justice,” rasped Touchstone, “Either your luck is stronger than you think, or Doomgiver recognizes our feud as having no clear victim, or maybe both are true. All I know is that I see no end to this.”
“I’ll end this now!” grated Helmrune, and charged at Touchstone with his sword raised in both hands, aiming a savage downward cut at his opponents head. The young fool had time to bring his sword up and slash down at a slight angle to intercept the young Lord’s blade. The two god-forged swords clashed and locked, the two combatants snarling wordlessly over the clenched blades. Then, in pure luck, Touchstone lost his footing and tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back. As he fell, he noticed Helmrune had, in a stroke of justice, tripped in a similar fashion and likewise landed supine. Both men lay there, exhausted with the effort and accumulated wounds of their duel.
“Foolishness!”
Both young men heard the grunted word, half-spoken aloud and half-spoken softly. Each turned their head towards its origin and found Lord and Lady Ginndem standing nearby with Esther looking on from within her mother’s embrace. The Fool and the young Lord had been so absorbed in their duel that they had hardly noticed their approach.
“Foolishness!” repeated Lord Ginndem, “to see two young idiots hacking madly at each other with perhaps the most dangerous weapons to ever grace this land.”
“But…I…didn’t….” began Touchstone weakly, but was interrupted by another grunt for the Lord.
“Fah! Whatever you did or did not do doesn’t change the recklessness I saw you two wallowing in.” The young Fool thought he caught pity softening Lord Ginndem’s eyes as he approached the two fallen combatants and looked at them in turn, but it was gone in a flash. The Lord’s mouth was set in a hard line and a mixture of annoyance and anger radiated from his features.
Seeing enough, Lady Ginndem released Esther and moved forward. She appraised both of the young men and turned toward her husband, “Your displeasure notwithstanding, My Lord, these young men need rest and care. Though they have made some foolish choices, have they lost the opportunity to recover in our halls once more?”
Lord Ginndem sighed, but nodded and replied, “They haven’t, but I fear that they need to leave and grow more before they can receive a warm welcome again.” He turned to return to the Keep, while Esther and Lady Ginndem took turns in setting Helmrune and Touchstone on their feet.
Esther came to the young Fool first, but she only wordlessly bound his more major wounds with strips of cloth torn from her outer garments. He didn’t try to explain the circumstances of the duel, knowing that he would look more the fool if he did, but merely kept his eyes on the ground in shame, at both Lord Ginndem’s words and the uncomfortable silence that emanated from Esther. The one time he did look up to meet her gaze, he saw tears glistening in the corner of her eyes, and a blend of fear and sympathy widened her eyes and drew her eyebrows together. She moved away to tend to Helmrune, and Touchstone was almost relieved to hear the soothing litany of reassurances that poured forth from Lady Ginndem.
“Don’t you mind what the Lord said there; you’re not the first boy I’ve seen do foolish things when a girl is concerned. And give my daughter some time to recover: she’s never seen how dangerous such confrontations can be. Oh, these wounds are nothing serious, you’ll recover quickly, very lucky of you and the young Lord to get by with only minor cuts and punctures. We’ll need to sew a few of them up, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time. Though my husband might take a while to warm up to you again, and you would probably do well to find another place of lodging, I have seen that you’re good at heart. You’ll always get warm food and a clean bed from me if or when you return. But don’t worry about all that now, you need rest and time to heal, let’s get you back to the Keep.”
Touchstone stood with the help of Lady Ginndem, and sheathed Doomgiver into the scabbard on his left side. He turned to look at Helmrune, who was likewise being helped up by Esther, and who groped around to find Coinspinner. Finding that the blade had disappeared from his hand, bitter tears began to streak down the young Lord’s face. Esther, her sympathy winning over her fear that she likewise had for him, threw her arms around Helmrune, but he remained oblivious as he leaned against her for support. Touchstone barely had the energy to ponder his loss as he was helped to the Keep, and only had time to appreciate the circularity of being placed in the same bed that he recovered in when he had first arrived, for he knew that this was the last night he would be spending with the Ginndem Clan.
He didn’t see any of Esther as he was attended during the evening by Lady Ginndem, who washed his wounds and brought him food. Doomgiver had done a good job of countering Coinspinner, as the wounds he received were small and healed quickly. As he lay in bed, he could imagine how Helmrune and Esther were most likely being drawn closer together through the aftermath, he in his grief finally opening up to her and she thus finding out his good qualities. The young Lord was a good man, Touchstone finally admitted to himself, although bitterly, and Esther would make a good choice in choosing him.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Well now, it's certainly been a while since this old chestnut has been wheeled out, hasn't it?
I finally dug back into my documents and found that I indeed had written full drafts of the final two chapters in my old fanfic, and figured I might as well post them in all their clunky and unrefined glory. I mentioned in a previous post concerning this little yarn that I was writing an interstitial character chapter, but I found that I simply couldn't make a full run of it on the single handful of dialog I'd come up with. As such, Chapter 3.5 will probably never see the light of day, so you can check that off your lists.
In any case, here is the final portion of the duel and the aftermath, in this seventh installment (sixth chapter) of my Story of Swords...
Chapter 6: Chance and Doom
The two young men gave themselves over to the power of their swords, swinging at each other without reserve and letting the magical knowledge and ability of the blades take over. Like tides did the powers of the swords flow against each other.
Coinspinner would press the offense, finding a lucky opening and wounding its opponent in a flash of disbelief. However, the Sword of Chance could not defend against the savage backstroke of Doomgiver, and where the power of Coinspinner receded, the Sword of Justice flowed forward, hurling back the injuries from whence they came. Whenever Touchstone lost the small shred of concentration in his reckless abandon, however, his blade would over-extend in its desire to right the wrong and wound his opponent, which then was reflected back at him by the selfsame power.
There was still a savage grace to their swordplay, their attacks and defenses becoming wide and exaggerated as their energy began to be depleted. Small wounds appeared on each swordsman as one of the swords, then the other temporarily gained the upper hand. After a particularly fierce exchange, the two opponents staggered backward and stopped, both hunched forward and breathing hard with the effort.
“Why!” panted the young lord, “Why is Doomgiver not ending me?”
“You hold the Sword of Chance, and I the Sword of Justice,” rasped Touchstone, “Either your luck is stronger than you think, or Doomgiver recognizes our feud as having no clear victim, or maybe both are true. All I know is that I see no end to this.”
“I’ll end this now!” grated Helmrune, and charged at Touchstone with his sword raised in both hands, aiming a savage downward cut at his opponents head. The young fool had time to bring his sword up and slash down at a slight angle to intercept the young Lord’s blade. The two god-forged swords clashed and locked, the two combatants snarling wordlessly over the clenched blades. Then, in pure luck, Touchstone lost his footing and tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back. As he fell, he noticed Helmrune had, in a stroke of justice, tripped in a similar fashion and likewise landed supine. Both men lay there, exhausted with the effort and accumulated wounds of their duel.
“Foolishness!”
Both young men heard the grunted word, half-spoken aloud and half-spoken softly. Each turned their head towards its origin and found Lord and Lady Ginndem standing nearby with Esther looking on from within her mother’s embrace. The Fool and the young Lord had been so absorbed in their duel that they had hardly noticed their approach.
“Foolishness!” repeated Lord Ginndem, “to see two young idiots hacking madly at each other with perhaps the most dangerous weapons to ever grace this land.”
“But…I…didn’t….” began Touchstone weakly, but was interrupted by another grunt for the Lord.
“Fah! Whatever you did or did not do doesn’t change the recklessness I saw you two wallowing in.” The young Fool thought he caught pity softening Lord Ginndem’s eyes as he approached the two fallen combatants and looked at them in turn, but it was gone in a flash. The Lord’s mouth was set in a hard line and a mixture of annoyance and anger radiated from his features.
Seeing enough, Lady Ginndem released Esther and moved forward. She appraised both of the young men and turned toward her husband, “Your displeasure notwithstanding, My Lord, these young men need rest and care. Though they have made some foolish choices, have they lost the opportunity to recover in our halls once more?”
Lord Ginndem sighed, but nodded and replied, “They haven’t, but I fear that they need to leave and grow more before they can receive a warm welcome again.” He turned to return to the Keep, while Esther and Lady Ginndem took turns in setting Helmrune and Touchstone on their feet.
Esther came to the young Fool first, but she only wordlessly bound his more major wounds with strips of cloth torn from her outer garments. He didn’t try to explain the circumstances of the duel, knowing that he would look more the fool if he did, but merely kept his eyes on the ground in shame, at both Lord Ginndem’s words and the uncomfortable silence that emanated from Esther. The one time he did look up to meet her gaze, he saw tears glistening in the corner of her eyes, and a blend of fear and sympathy widened her eyes and drew her eyebrows together. She moved away to tend to Helmrune, and Touchstone was almost relieved to hear the soothing litany of reassurances that poured forth from Lady Ginndem.
“Don’t you mind what the Lord said there; you’re not the first boy I’ve seen do foolish things when a girl is concerned. And give my daughter some time to recover: she’s never seen how dangerous such confrontations can be. Oh, these wounds are nothing serious, you’ll recover quickly, very lucky of you and the young Lord to get by with only minor cuts and punctures. We’ll need to sew a few of them up, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time. Though my husband might take a while to warm up to you again, and you would probably do well to find another place of lodging, I have seen that you’re good at heart. You’ll always get warm food and a clean bed from me if or when you return. But don’t worry about all that now, you need rest and time to heal, let’s get you back to the Keep.”
Touchstone stood with the help of Lady Ginndem, and sheathed Doomgiver into the scabbard on his left side. He turned to look at Helmrune, who was likewise being helped up by Esther, and who groped around to find Coinspinner. Finding that the blade had disappeared from his hand, bitter tears began to streak down the young Lord’s face. Esther, her sympathy winning over her fear that she likewise had for him, threw her arms around Helmrune, but he remained oblivious as he leaned against her for support. Touchstone barely had the energy to ponder his loss as he was helped to the Keep, and only had time to appreciate the circularity of being placed in the same bed that he recovered in when he had first arrived, for he knew that this was the last night he would be spending with the Ginndem Clan.
He didn’t see any of Esther as he was attended during the evening by Lady Ginndem, who washed his wounds and brought him food. Doomgiver had done a good job of countering Coinspinner, as the wounds he received were small and healed quickly. As he lay in bed, he could imagine how Helmrune and Esther were most likely being drawn closer together through the aftermath, he in his grief finally opening up to her and she thus finding out his good qualities. The young Lord was a good man, Touchstone finally admitted to himself, although bitterly, and Esther would make a good choice in choosing him.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The wind will blow aye forever mare...
Currently in Earphones: Old Blind Dog's album, Close to the Bone
Well, time for an update methinks.
First off, I'd like to plug Preston and Patrick's hilarious, informative, and wonderfully written Rambling Rovers, a fantastic travelogue of their current wanderings across western Europe. It gets better with every new entry, and golden prose flows just as easily from the pen of one as it does the other. Check it out, you'll be glad you did.
Secondly, I've found myself returning home more often than not these past weekends. Don't get me wrong, I love the time I spend with my parents, going out to eat and watch movies, spending time and generally taking part in family bonding (though my sister has her own life which makes her rather absent on the weekends, something that makes my visits all the more appreciated by ol' mum and pop). It definitely eases on my wallet, as my wonderful parents are more than willing to take me grocery shopping upon my usual return on a Sunday afternoon.
There sadly has not been a lot keeping me in Davis; although there are a number of friends of mine still in cow town, more often than not there have been too many un-synchronized schedules. One of these days I'll get to have lunch with Julia, hang out with Lisa, or go see a movie with Lauren, but it sadly has not been any of these past weekends or even weekdays (For those of you casting a inquisitive eye toward the female roster reproduced above, I say 1. They are all purely friends or are taken, and 2. I challenge all of you to name any male friends of mine staying in Davis this summer). However, I hope to get my ass in gear and start being more sociable soon as I get some space in my schedule.
On the material front, I blitzed through the newest Harry Potter in about a day (that would be all of Saturday evening and all of Sunday morning), mostly due to the fact that I only had my hands on it for this past weekend and that it was the most gripping installment to date. I will admit that my interest was similarly piqued two other times in the series: once when getting into how dark and twisty Chamber of Secrets was, and once when I finished Goblet of Fire and found out that JK Rowling had taken the gloves off. While this series has never made me fear too badly for the lives of its protagonists (unlike, say, George R.R. "I'll kill off whoever I jolly well please" Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series), I do have to say that Deathly Hollows made me pretty twitchy and misty, the former before and the latter after it's numerous casualties.
Though they might seem minor in comparison to the giant bomb that was dropped at the end of Half-Blood Prince, I found myself more affected by the deaths in the following book. Why, you ask? I can't rightly say. Perhaps it was the logical peak of the pyramid after killing off a character a book since Goblet of Fire, maybe because we had virtually no background to such a central character and thus no great reason for sympathy (must....not....give away....spoilers!), but the climax of HBP didn't do terribly much for me. I definitely had a bit of a jaded streak going there before the final installment, but have been fairly well mollified by this last chapter in the series. For those who may have thrown up their hands somewhere around GOF/Order of the Phoenix, keep reading. You will be rewarded.
Can't wait for the Encore Edition of Guitar Hero, it's gonna be ten tons of fun, even though I don't generally like 80's pop. I'm sure the great taste of Harmonix will find some diamonds in the rough for my enjoyment. I'm already excited about Dio's Holy Diver, as Phil can most likely attest to my gushings on the subject.
As to the return of Anja, I am still ambivalent, but have been falling into the cold acceptance of whatever may come being simply an epilogue to our story. Should I abandon the last sliver of hope that remains, before it is crushed out of me? Or should I keep it alive, for that one small voice in my head that continues to say "Perhaps you are mistaken....perhaps...."
She has suffered enough, and though I have select barbs I may wish to say, I cannot bring myself to say them, for it would only be salt in a wound that no doubt has seen enough re-opening. Gah, I cannot assuage my own pain at the expense of hers. It's all so twisted. I want to be her friend, but I don't yet know if I can handle simply being that, if I will want to be completely hers again. I'm such a fool.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Well, time for an update methinks.
First off, I'd like to plug Preston and Patrick's hilarious, informative, and wonderfully written Rambling Rovers, a fantastic travelogue of their current wanderings across western Europe. It gets better with every new entry, and golden prose flows just as easily from the pen of one as it does the other. Check it out, you'll be glad you did.
Secondly, I've found myself returning home more often than not these past weekends. Don't get me wrong, I love the time I spend with my parents, going out to eat and watch movies, spending time and generally taking part in family bonding (though my sister has her own life which makes her rather absent on the weekends, something that makes my visits all the more appreciated by ol' mum and pop). It definitely eases on my wallet, as my wonderful parents are more than willing to take me grocery shopping upon my usual return on a Sunday afternoon.
There sadly has not been a lot keeping me in Davis; although there are a number of friends of mine still in cow town, more often than not there have been too many un-synchronized schedules. One of these days I'll get to have lunch with Julia, hang out with Lisa, or go see a movie with Lauren, but it sadly has not been any of these past weekends or even weekdays (For those of you casting a inquisitive eye toward the female roster reproduced above, I say 1. They are all purely friends or are taken, and 2. I challenge all of you to name any male friends of mine staying in Davis this summer). However, I hope to get my ass in gear and start being more sociable soon as I get some space in my schedule.
On the material front, I blitzed through the newest Harry Potter in about a day (that would be all of Saturday evening and all of Sunday morning), mostly due to the fact that I only had my hands on it for this past weekend and that it was the most gripping installment to date. I will admit that my interest was similarly piqued two other times in the series: once when getting into how dark and twisty Chamber of Secrets was, and once when I finished Goblet of Fire and found out that JK Rowling had taken the gloves off. While this series has never made me fear too badly for the lives of its protagonists (unlike, say, George R.R. "I'll kill off whoever I jolly well please" Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series), I do have to say that Deathly Hollows made me pretty twitchy and misty, the former before and the latter after it's numerous casualties.
Though they might seem minor in comparison to the giant bomb that was dropped at the end of Half-Blood Prince, I found myself more affected by the deaths in the following book. Why, you ask? I can't rightly say. Perhaps it was the logical peak of the pyramid after killing off a character a book since Goblet of Fire, maybe because we had virtually no background to such a central character and thus no great reason for sympathy (must....not....give away....spoilers!), but the climax of HBP didn't do terribly much for me. I definitely had a bit of a jaded streak going there before the final installment, but have been fairly well mollified by this last chapter in the series. For those who may have thrown up their hands somewhere around GOF/Order of the Phoenix, keep reading. You will be rewarded.
Can't wait for the Encore Edition of Guitar Hero, it's gonna be ten tons of fun, even though I don't generally like 80's pop. I'm sure the great taste of Harmonix will find some diamonds in the rough for my enjoyment. I'm already excited about Dio's Holy Diver, as Phil can most likely attest to my gushings on the subject.
As to the return of Anja, I am still ambivalent, but have been falling into the cold acceptance of whatever may come being simply an epilogue to our story. Should I abandon the last sliver of hope that remains, before it is crushed out of me? Or should I keep it alive, for that one small voice in my head that continues to say "Perhaps you are mistaken....perhaps...."
She has suffered enough, and though I have select barbs I may wish to say, I cannot bring myself to say them, for it would only be salt in a wound that no doubt has seen enough re-opening. Gah, I cannot assuage my own pain at the expense of hers. It's all so twisted. I want to be her friend, but I don't yet know if I can handle simply being that, if I will want to be completely hers again. I'm such a fool.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
A thousand times Ugh
Currently in Earphones: Plunkett and MacLean soundtrack by Craig Armstrong
Ugh. It's been fairly quiet in the house as of late. Had a nice weekend back at home and have had a few visits by fencing friends (usually invited over by Phil, and heartily endorsed by me). However, no amount of that, Ian Fleming, Sir Walter Scott or Susanna Clarke can lift my current funk.
As most of you know by now, I had to let go of a wonderful relationship about a year back, and she who left for the green land shall be returning in the matter of a few weeks. Though she has felt horribly about the whole situation and much grief was to be had on both sides, she wishes to continue the friendship we once had. As you all also know by now, I am still very much in love with her, but despite her good will towards me and though it has not been stated outright, I do not believe she would wish to continue where we left off.
A series of slow revelations has shown her to have moved on, becoming involved with another and from the looks of things, continue to carry on her relationship upon her return. I have only wished for her happiness, and though it tears me in two to know that I am not the one to give it to her, I know that it is for the best that she does what she does. The last thing I would want would be to cause her grief, for she deserves happiness. I cannot be the one to deny it to her.
Yet still a small part of me hopes that perhaps I still mean enough to her to rekindle what was old, but it is a slim and foolish hope, and one that will most likely need be snuffed. I still have two long weeks, and I fear I shall not improve by stewing upon the matter.
Good friends, I implore you: give me your time as you are able that I may improve by your company. I have brooded enough upon this matter of the heart and could use more cheerful times. All of your thoughts, conversations and laughter are sorely missed in my solitude, and any time you could give me would lighten my spirit. Contact me however you will, for I eagerly await your company.
Enough. More Later,
- James
Ugh. It's been fairly quiet in the house as of late. Had a nice weekend back at home and have had a few visits by fencing friends (usually invited over by Phil, and heartily endorsed by me). However, no amount of that, Ian Fleming, Sir Walter Scott or Susanna Clarke can lift my current funk.
As most of you know by now, I had to let go of a wonderful relationship about a year back, and she who left for the green land shall be returning in the matter of a few weeks. Though she has felt horribly about the whole situation and much grief was to be had on both sides, she wishes to continue the friendship we once had. As you all also know by now, I am still very much in love with her, but despite her good will towards me and though it has not been stated outright, I do not believe she would wish to continue where we left off.
A series of slow revelations has shown her to have moved on, becoming involved with another and from the looks of things, continue to carry on her relationship upon her return. I have only wished for her happiness, and though it tears me in two to know that I am not the one to give it to her, I know that it is for the best that she does what she does. The last thing I would want would be to cause her grief, for she deserves happiness. I cannot be the one to deny it to her.
Yet still a small part of me hopes that perhaps I still mean enough to her to rekindle what was old, but it is a slim and foolish hope, and one that will most likely need be snuffed. I still have two long weeks, and I fear I shall not improve by stewing upon the matter.
Good friends, I implore you: give me your time as you are able that I may improve by your company. I have brooded enough upon this matter of the heart and could use more cheerful times. All of your thoughts, conversations and laughter are sorely missed in my solitude, and any time you could give me would lighten my spirit. Contact me however you will, for I eagerly await your company.
Enough. More Later,
- James
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