Currently in Earphones: Enemy of the State Soundtrack by Trever Rabin and Harry Gregson-Williams.
What with Casino Royale coming out on DVD, there's one little nitpick that isn't explained in the movie that I'd like to address.
It appears that Le Chiffre is not asthmatic, though it would be awfully neat if it was shown in more detail that is was so. We associate the mouth-inhaler he uses with Asthma because that image is linked in our cultural psyche; the poor, fat asthmatic kid taking multiple hits off of his Albuteral (or Ventolin, way back when) during phys-ed.
However, our devious villain uses Benzedrine, which acts as a mild euphoric stimulant. Surprise! He's a druggie, but nothing that will severely debilitate him, as he needs his wits about him. You ever notice how he never seems to get out of breath? Either while getting the crap beaten out of him of beating the crap out of Bond? In the novel he uses it in recreationally through a nose inhaler, which eliminates all doubt that he's not taking it for any physical debilitation (the filthy brute).
Maybe such a tidbit wasn't explained either for pacing or otherwise, but perhaps leaving it unexplained gave either option equal credence. I just find it funny he doesn't show any signs whatsoever of a medical need for the inhaler. Even light cases of asthma have symptoms, and he displays none of them.
Anywho, my two cents on the whole deal.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Showing posts with label Casino Royale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Casino Royale. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Casino Royale via AICN
Currently in Earphones: "Never Drink 'Em Dry (Johnny Tarr's Funeral)" by Gaelic Storm
Drew McWeeny (aka Moriarty) from AICN wrote a very smart review about the recent James Bond installment, and I particularly appreciate this one gripe/praise he has concerning the book vs. the movie...
"My biggest problem is one that I’ve had since the script stage: the change from baccarat to poker. It’s literally pointless. The poker in the film doesn’t matter, and having knowledge of the game doesn’t matter. At all. Not even a little bit. Because card games in movies are inherently boring. You know there is no chance involved because it is scripted. The cards are going to be dealt according to drama, not chance. The reason that baccarat simply works better is because it’s so uncommon. No one knows how to play baccarat. Le Chiffre has a fetish for the game because of its obscurity. And when MI6 decides to send someone in to play across from Le Chiffre, there’s really only one guy inside the agency that knows the game well enough to compete. You think it matters what cards turn over on the table between those two guys? No. What matters is what happens between them, and the film gets it right. Campbell directs the poker the best way he possibly can, by making it inconsequential. He’s got the dealer to explain every hand, so you don’t have to know anything about the game, and he directs everything so it’s about the way Bond and Le Chiffre play off each other. It’s just Mads Mikkelsen and Daniel Craig, every gesture loaded with meaning. No invisible cars, no creepy dudes shooting lightning out of their fingers, no CGI or snowboarding. Just two men, both desperate to accomplish something, depending on this civilized warfare across a card table."
- "Moriarty", Link
Amen!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Drew McWeeny (aka Moriarty) from AICN wrote a very smart review about the recent James Bond installment, and I particularly appreciate this one gripe/praise he has concerning the book vs. the movie...
"My biggest problem is one that I’ve had since the script stage: the change from baccarat to poker. It’s literally pointless. The poker in the film doesn’t matter, and having knowledge of the game doesn’t matter. At all. Not even a little bit. Because card games in movies are inherently boring. You know there is no chance involved because it is scripted. The cards are going to be dealt according to drama, not chance. The reason that baccarat simply works better is because it’s so uncommon. No one knows how to play baccarat. Le Chiffre has a fetish for the game because of its obscurity. And when MI6 decides to send someone in to play across from Le Chiffre, there’s really only one guy inside the agency that knows the game well enough to compete. You think it matters what cards turn over on the table between those two guys? No. What matters is what happens between them, and the film gets it right. Campbell directs the poker the best way he possibly can, by making it inconsequential. He’s got the dealer to explain every hand, so you don’t have to know anything about the game, and he directs everything so it’s about the way Bond and Le Chiffre play off each other. It’s just Mads Mikkelsen and Daniel Craig, every gesture loaded with meaning. No invisible cars, no creepy dudes shooting lightning out of their fingers, no CGI or snowboarding. Just two men, both desperate to accomplish something, depending on this civilized warfare across a card table."
- "Moriarty", Link
Amen!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
A Story of Swords, Part 4
Currently in Earphones: Casino Royale soundtrack by David Arnold
(Note about the change in the title of my Blog: I knew for a while that I wasn't using good latin in it, and it needed changing. I finally went back to my dictionary and found the right vocab and put it in the right form, but I'm still fuzzy on whether or not I can make up a modified praenomen as I did or if that form is a no-no. I like it though, so foo on the rest.)
Phew, my papers are finally all over with. I've got a bit of a breather between now and finals, and I've taken full advantage of the fact by vegging out and putting a bit more time into my Story of Swords. Having a boatload of time on your hands that you don't need to devote schoolwork to is a neat thing.
I went back over Part 1 and realized its in bad need of a re-write. I was basically trying to write a prologue to set everything up and include any pertinent information, so I was writing to get to the beginning and not nessecarily to set up anything secondary. My first task is to make Keyes a bit more believable in his motives for simply handing a sword over, and although I'd rather not make our protagonist a Mary Sue, I might have to emphasize his good qualities a tad more to accomplish it. Secondly, to expand the amount of time in order to really show that these men spent 8-10 hours with each other and didn't just meet in passing. My sticking point for fantasy is that the material reality of such stories can be anything you'd like, but there still needs to exist a human reality for things to hold an element of believability.
I've also noticed that my chapters tend to be about 3 pages long (that is, in a Word document), and part 1 falls short by about half a page. If I'm ever worried about my writing, I feel better taking the long way around to set things up and illustrate aspects of the story in more detail, so it's good to know that I have some wiggle room if I want to keep this stuff uniform. As an example, I originally intended for this story to be only a few pages long, but then I realized that I wanted to make these characters to be more three-dimensional and to have the readers care about them. In order to do that, I needed to make my story longer, and thus do you see it as it is coming along now.
And now, without further ado, Part 4.
Chapter 4: Pastimes
The Sun beat down from its apex and Touchstone wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Feeling sufficiently limber, he sheathed Doomgiver, but kept it loose in the scabbard. Though the current situation weighed heavy on his heart, he began to recall the good times that had preceded the conflict.
During the middle of winter, both Touchstone and Helmrune were restless, and decided to sweep the snow from the practice yard in order to spar. Though they were chided by the arms master for attempting such a fruitless task, they would fence for a good part of the day. However, after a set of two or three bouts they had to continually clear away the newest layer of snow, for it was falling near constantly.
The yard would often have four occupants during the days that followed: The young Fool, the young Lord, Esther, usually wrapped in warm furs, and despite his grumpiness, the arms master himself. The only sounds that emanated from the yard, muffled by the falling snow, were the occasional clash of wood-on-wood, or the even more rare sound of steel-on-steel, encouragement or corrections from the master, and shouts of triumph or defeat from the young men.
During those times, Touchstone would lose himself in the dance of swords: The slow circling, the testing of defenses, the foiled attacks and the hasty defenses. Time was spent more in calm alertness and calculation, looking for the clear winning blow, than in actual action. Energy was still spent in maintaining an ever changing defense, feinting here and there, and constantly moving, though more than once the young Fool imagined that his sparring with Helmrune must have looked terribly boring. Regardless of his thoughts, Esther seemed constantly captivated by the two young men in their combat, and even learned a fair amount of swordplay herself. Touchstone enjoyed the atmosphere, the quiet of the snow like a soft cloth muffling his ears, and the cold weather that kept him alert and ready.
After a particularly fierce bout, which Touchstone had won (more by luck than anything else, he thought), Esther had run to meet the men from the small alcove in which she usually watched. Coming lightly toward him, she placed a small kiss on Touchstone’s cheek, and he smiled in spite of himself. As he turned back to congratulate his opponent on a well fought match, he saw jealousy in his eyes. It was an emotion familiar to the young Fool, and to see such green loathing caused pity to well in his heart for the young Lord. As he was thinking this, Helmrune said aloud, “Would that I had your luck.” He then closed his mouth quickly, looking somewhat ashamed of himself.
Touchstone smiled, approached the young Lord and clapped him on the shoulder. “I suspect if you had my luck, you’d feel differently.”
“And why would you?” said Esther, coming towards them, “You have an amazing skill with a sword, among other good qualities as well.”
Helmrune blushed slightly at Esther’s praise, and Touchstone noticed his face soften and warmth enter into his eyes as he chuckled, “I suppose I do.”
“Indeed,” Touchstone wryly quipped, “my 7 losing bouts out of 11 and a body full of bruises attest it. Let’s get something to eat, though, I’m starving.” The three, friends once again, left for the kitchens.
Warming themselves by the large fires, they helped themselves to a pile of warm breads that the cook had set aside for them, for the castle had grown used to the two visitor’s peculiar sparring habits. After they had eaten their fill, Esther pulled a sprig of round leaves from one of her pockets.
“It’s a new plant I’ve been working on,” she explained, “People are fond of the Quickleaf, which they either brew or chew on to recover themselves, as you two know.” She held up a leaf, which had the same shape as the plant she mentioned, but had a webbed pattern uncharacteristic of its usual smooth surface. “I’ve tried crossing one with Mint, to counteract the naturally bitter taste. I think it’s a moderate success.” She gave a few leaves to each young man, and each looked at them with equal parts wonder and skepticism.
Touchstone looked at Helmrune and gave him a mock-frightened gasp, “But what if this strange plant turns us into rabbits?”
The young Lord grinned, a fleeting appreciation of the young Fools odd humor that Touchstone found kinship in, and said, “Not that it would change much, anyway.” Touchstone shrugged and the two young men chewed on the leaves. The young Fool was pleasantly surprised to find the cool taste of the mint dulling the bitter tang of the Quickleaf, but he stifled a slight grimace at the potency of the latter.
Before he could prepare a fitting complement, Esther had caught their reactions and said “I know, I’m working on lessening the taste. I just need to find a milder form of Quickleaf…”
“It’s certainly effective,” said Helmrune, “I feel like I could spar with Touchstone for another day. It’s amazing what you’ve done with your plants, and to think about all you could do with your knowledge.”
Esther smiled shyly at his praise, looking up through her lashes at the young Lord, and said “Thanks, I’m glad you liked it.”
Touchstone, thankful for the ease that was settling into Helmrunes manner and replacing the stiff formality that had been there earlier, heaved an exasperated sigh and said, “If you two are finished, I have yet to finish telling you one of my stories. I believe there are a good fire and a good audience out in the great hall.”
“And will this be as good as your ‘Blind Mans Blade’?” teased Esther, “I’m not sure if anything else can measure up to the Swords of Power.” One of the first stories Touchstone had told by firelight was that of Keyes and the Swords, so popular had it been that only after a few days the whole keep could recite the verses of the Song by heart.
“All stories have merit,” responded the young Fool, “simply because some happen to be more fantastic then others shouldn’t lessen the value of the more mundane.” Helmrune nodded in agreement and offered Esther his arm. She took it, smiling, and they all began to make their way to the great hall.
At the threshold of the hall, a kitchen boy came running after the young Fool. “Touchstone!” he called out, familiarly, and the young man knelt to be at his eye level.
“Well, m’lad!” said the young Fool, “what have we here?” The boy’s eyes gleamed, as if holding a barely contained secret, a knowing grin on his face.
“It’s Coinspinner! It’s here! In the North country!”
The eyes of the young Lord and Esther widened, and Touchstone responded, “What? How?”
“There’ve been stories going around,” said the boy, breathlessly, “that a strange sword has been appearing and disappearing through the various Houses. Miraculous and strange things have been happening, but everyone says that, in some way, luck has been shifting around. It’s Coinspinner! How can’t it be?”
“You be careful with that story, lad,” said Touchstone, “Such things have an odd way of spreading to all sorts of ears, and not good ones like yours or mine.” The boy grinned mischievously, triumphant that he had drawn the same conclusion as the young Fool, but seeing Touchstone’ serious expression and unsmiling eyes, the expression fell from his face.
The young man’s face softened at the boy’s penitent expression and he ruffled the hair on his small head. “It’s not you I’m worried about, lad, it’s those Swords. Now run along.” The little one scampered off, leaving the three to ponder the situation.
“Coinspinner…” said Helmrune, his eyes unfocused, as if surveying the horizon for possibilities, “I wonder at what those stories have been like.”
“With the Sword of Chance as a force, they could be anything,” mused the young Fool.
“Well,” said Esther, with finality, “unless it arrives on our doorstep, there’s little good in worrying or thinking about it. Don’t you still owe us a tale yourself, good Sir Fool?”
Touchstone nodded, and, the dark mood dissipated, the three continued toward the great hall.
To Be Continued in Chapter 5
Enough, More Later.
- James
(Note about the change in the title of my Blog: I knew for a while that I wasn't using good latin in it, and it needed changing. I finally went back to my dictionary and found the right vocab and put it in the right form, but I'm still fuzzy on whether or not I can make up a modified praenomen as I did or if that form is a no-no. I like it though, so foo on the rest.)
Phew, my papers are finally all over with. I've got a bit of a breather between now and finals, and I've taken full advantage of the fact by vegging out and putting a bit more time into my Story of Swords. Having a boatload of time on your hands that you don't need to devote schoolwork to is a neat thing.
I went back over Part 1 and realized its in bad need of a re-write. I was basically trying to write a prologue to set everything up and include any pertinent information, so I was writing to get to the beginning and not nessecarily to set up anything secondary. My first task is to make Keyes a bit more believable in his motives for simply handing a sword over, and although I'd rather not make our protagonist a Mary Sue, I might have to emphasize his good qualities a tad more to accomplish it. Secondly, to expand the amount of time in order to really show that these men spent 8-10 hours with each other and didn't just meet in passing. My sticking point for fantasy is that the material reality of such stories can be anything you'd like, but there still needs to exist a human reality for things to hold an element of believability.
I've also noticed that my chapters tend to be about 3 pages long (that is, in a Word document), and part 1 falls short by about half a page. If I'm ever worried about my writing, I feel better taking the long way around to set things up and illustrate aspects of the story in more detail, so it's good to know that I have some wiggle room if I want to keep this stuff uniform. As an example, I originally intended for this story to be only a few pages long, but then I realized that I wanted to make these characters to be more three-dimensional and to have the readers care about them. In order to do that, I needed to make my story longer, and thus do you see it as it is coming along now.
And now, without further ado, Part 4.
Chapter 4: Pastimes
The Sun beat down from its apex and Touchstone wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Feeling sufficiently limber, he sheathed Doomgiver, but kept it loose in the scabbard. Though the current situation weighed heavy on his heart, he began to recall the good times that had preceded the conflict.
During the middle of winter, both Touchstone and Helmrune were restless, and decided to sweep the snow from the practice yard in order to spar. Though they were chided by the arms master for attempting such a fruitless task, they would fence for a good part of the day. However, after a set of two or three bouts they had to continually clear away the newest layer of snow, for it was falling near constantly.
The yard would often have four occupants during the days that followed: The young Fool, the young Lord, Esther, usually wrapped in warm furs, and despite his grumpiness, the arms master himself. The only sounds that emanated from the yard, muffled by the falling snow, were the occasional clash of wood-on-wood, or the even more rare sound of steel-on-steel, encouragement or corrections from the master, and shouts of triumph or defeat from the young men.
During those times, Touchstone would lose himself in the dance of swords: The slow circling, the testing of defenses, the foiled attacks and the hasty defenses. Time was spent more in calm alertness and calculation, looking for the clear winning blow, than in actual action. Energy was still spent in maintaining an ever changing defense, feinting here and there, and constantly moving, though more than once the young Fool imagined that his sparring with Helmrune must have looked terribly boring. Regardless of his thoughts, Esther seemed constantly captivated by the two young men in their combat, and even learned a fair amount of swordplay herself. Touchstone enjoyed the atmosphere, the quiet of the snow like a soft cloth muffling his ears, and the cold weather that kept him alert and ready.
After a particularly fierce bout, which Touchstone had won (more by luck than anything else, he thought), Esther had run to meet the men from the small alcove in which she usually watched. Coming lightly toward him, she placed a small kiss on Touchstone’s cheek, and he smiled in spite of himself. As he turned back to congratulate his opponent on a well fought match, he saw jealousy in his eyes. It was an emotion familiar to the young Fool, and to see such green loathing caused pity to well in his heart for the young Lord. As he was thinking this, Helmrune said aloud, “Would that I had your luck.” He then closed his mouth quickly, looking somewhat ashamed of himself.
Touchstone smiled, approached the young Lord and clapped him on the shoulder. “I suspect if you had my luck, you’d feel differently.”
“And why would you?” said Esther, coming towards them, “You have an amazing skill with a sword, among other good qualities as well.”
Helmrune blushed slightly at Esther’s praise, and Touchstone noticed his face soften and warmth enter into his eyes as he chuckled, “I suppose I do.”
“Indeed,” Touchstone wryly quipped, “my 7 losing bouts out of 11 and a body full of bruises attest it. Let’s get something to eat, though, I’m starving.” The three, friends once again, left for the kitchens.
Warming themselves by the large fires, they helped themselves to a pile of warm breads that the cook had set aside for them, for the castle had grown used to the two visitor’s peculiar sparring habits. After they had eaten their fill, Esther pulled a sprig of round leaves from one of her pockets.
“It’s a new plant I’ve been working on,” she explained, “People are fond of the Quickleaf, which they either brew or chew on to recover themselves, as you two know.” She held up a leaf, which had the same shape as the plant she mentioned, but had a webbed pattern uncharacteristic of its usual smooth surface. “I’ve tried crossing one with Mint, to counteract the naturally bitter taste. I think it’s a moderate success.” She gave a few leaves to each young man, and each looked at them with equal parts wonder and skepticism.
Touchstone looked at Helmrune and gave him a mock-frightened gasp, “But what if this strange plant turns us into rabbits?”
The young Lord grinned, a fleeting appreciation of the young Fools odd humor that Touchstone found kinship in, and said, “Not that it would change much, anyway.” Touchstone shrugged and the two young men chewed on the leaves. The young Fool was pleasantly surprised to find the cool taste of the mint dulling the bitter tang of the Quickleaf, but he stifled a slight grimace at the potency of the latter.
Before he could prepare a fitting complement, Esther had caught their reactions and said “I know, I’m working on lessening the taste. I just need to find a milder form of Quickleaf…”
“It’s certainly effective,” said Helmrune, “I feel like I could spar with Touchstone for another day. It’s amazing what you’ve done with your plants, and to think about all you could do with your knowledge.”
Esther smiled shyly at his praise, looking up through her lashes at the young Lord, and said “Thanks, I’m glad you liked it.”
Touchstone, thankful for the ease that was settling into Helmrunes manner and replacing the stiff formality that had been there earlier, heaved an exasperated sigh and said, “If you two are finished, I have yet to finish telling you one of my stories. I believe there are a good fire and a good audience out in the great hall.”
“And will this be as good as your ‘Blind Mans Blade’?” teased Esther, “I’m not sure if anything else can measure up to the Swords of Power.” One of the first stories Touchstone had told by firelight was that of Keyes and the Swords, so popular had it been that only after a few days the whole keep could recite the verses of the Song by heart.
“All stories have merit,” responded the young Fool, “simply because some happen to be more fantastic then others shouldn’t lessen the value of the more mundane.” Helmrune nodded in agreement and offered Esther his arm. She took it, smiling, and they all began to make their way to the great hall.
At the threshold of the hall, a kitchen boy came running after the young Fool. “Touchstone!” he called out, familiarly, and the young man knelt to be at his eye level.
“Well, m’lad!” said the young Fool, “what have we here?” The boy’s eyes gleamed, as if holding a barely contained secret, a knowing grin on his face.
“It’s Coinspinner! It’s here! In the North country!”
The eyes of the young Lord and Esther widened, and Touchstone responded, “What? How?”
“There’ve been stories going around,” said the boy, breathlessly, “that a strange sword has been appearing and disappearing through the various Houses. Miraculous and strange things have been happening, but everyone says that, in some way, luck has been shifting around. It’s Coinspinner! How can’t it be?”
“You be careful with that story, lad,” said Touchstone, “Such things have an odd way of spreading to all sorts of ears, and not good ones like yours or mine.” The boy grinned mischievously, triumphant that he had drawn the same conclusion as the young Fool, but seeing Touchstone’ serious expression and unsmiling eyes, the expression fell from his face.
The young man’s face softened at the boy’s penitent expression and he ruffled the hair on his small head. “It’s not you I’m worried about, lad, it’s those Swords. Now run along.” The little one scampered off, leaving the three to ponder the situation.
“Coinspinner…” said Helmrune, his eyes unfocused, as if surveying the horizon for possibilities, “I wonder at what those stories have been like.”
“With the Sword of Chance as a force, they could be anything,” mused the young Fool.
“Well,” said Esther, with finality, “unless it arrives on our doorstep, there’s little good in worrying or thinking about it. Don’t you still owe us a tale yourself, good Sir Fool?”
Touchstone nodded, and, the dark mood dissipated, the three continued toward the great hall.
To Be Continued in Chapter 5
Enough, More Later.
- James
Friday, November 24, 2006
A Story of Swords, Part 3
Currently in Earphones: Danny the Dog by Massive Attack
A few quick things before the next installation of my Swords story. The first, I've re-enabled comments for anyone on this blog, seeing as I've been paranoid long enough. I do warn the potential flamers out there, all comments will be sent to me for clearance before they are posted, so don't try anything funny.
Secondly, I consider this tale as a work in progress. I fully expect to get input on how people think the story is and what could be improved. Everything that's going up is basically a rough draft, formed well enough to have people see but in no way finished. Let me know what y'all think!
Thirdly, I got to see Casino Royale a week back, and I loved the heck out of it. Le Chiffre is probably my favorite Bond villain of them all: I don't know if this was an invention of the script-writers, but to have him be asthmatic was friggin awesome. The funny thing, as I was telling Patrick a few days ago, was that for all the sucking on the Albuteral that the villain did, he was very rarely out of breath. Anyway, everyone go watch it, if you haven't already.
And away we go!
Chapter 3: Friendship
The sun had climbed slightly closer to it’s apex since Touchstone had last checked, and he stood up on the knoll in order to stretch his legs. Since he still had quite some time until the meeting was to occur, he unsheathed Doomgiver and began to practice his footwork on the gently sloping hill. After he had found his footing, his body naturally settled into the familiar sets of parry drills. His mind free, he continued to think about his recovery in Ginndem Keep.
Although he didn’t see Esther again after that first encounter, he was looked after by the matronly Lady Ginndem. She had clucked and fussed over the young Fool’s thin and lanky frame, bringing him hearty stews, meats, and breads for his meals. Touchstone was only too happy to oblige, though he was also weak enough to not be able to refuse. Lady Ginndem reminded him of his own mother; the round and solid frame, the quiet voice, and the care in everything she did. Under her care, Ginndem Keep began to feel like a second home.
A week after his arrival, he was up and walking again, if not quickly, and he had begun to explore the keep with Esther. The practice yard caught his interest, being a man of the sword, yet she was quick to point out that no-one used it during the winter, the weather being too harsh. They visited Esther’s sunroom as well, and Touchstone was fascinated by the system of oiled animal-skins that both let in sunlight yet maintained a pleasantly warm temperature within. There was also a small fire-pit in the middle of the room, “Mainly to keep me warm in the colder months,” she had explained, “most of these plants can survive the cold, but there are a few that I can lose if I’m not careful.” Touchstone felt a certain comfort resting in the sunroom, the green surrounding him lightened his thoughts and his heart, and he found himself spending many a time conversing with Esther among the plants.
Another week passed, and the young Fool felt strength returning. He found himself spending more and more time in Esther’s company, her friendship was invaluable, but he also felt the thrill of knowing that there may be more to their simple desire to wile away the hours with each other. Whenever they accidentally bumped into each other, whenever their hands brushed as each passed by, Touchstone felt a desire that he had not felt since his days of courting in the southern lands. He wanted to become involved with Esther because it filled the hole in his heart, but at the same time he did not want to, and when he felt the latter he would become quiet and twist the silver ring around his finger.
He was saved the trouble of dealing with his feelings when a new visitor arrived at Ginndem Keep. A young man, of similar stature as Touchstone, approached and kneeled before Lord Ginndem, while the young Fool and Esther watched from the side. “I am the Lord of Helmrune, sir,” the young man stated.
Lord Ginndem sat back in his throne, waiting for some further explanation. When none came, he asked “And what brings you to Ginndem Keep?”
Helmrune’s face, maintaining a blank passivity, said “My father wishes that I leave and explore the world, now that I have received Lordship.” Touchstone felt somewhat disquieted by the lack of animation on the young Lord’s face, and whether or not Lord Ginndem felt the same way, he could not tell, for he was busy smoothing his mustache out, much as he had the day Touchstone had arrived.
“I’m curious, boy,” said Lord Ginndem, and if Helmrune took offence at the diminutive, his face showed no sign, “Why here? Ginndem Keep isn’t full of any court intrigue, and combat or military training can be had better and more easily with some our neighbors.”
A shadow of thought passed over Helmrune’s face, but it came and left so quickly that Touchstone thought he might have imagined it. The young Lord took a breath, “It is the first step on my journey.”
Lord Ginndem paused, digesting this small piece of information, and then smiled at Helmrune. It was a friendly smile, but it lacked the warmth that Touchstone remembered from his own experience. “Very well. I daresay you’ll have some good company, what with another wanderer staying with us as well.” Lord Ginndem looked toward the place where Touchstone and Esther were standing, and Helmrune followed his gaze. The eyes of the two young men met, and the young Fool felt a clash of emotion. He saw in Helmrune many qualities of himself, which would otherwise inspire a growing desire to become friends. Yet, for almost the same reasons, he was repulsed, perhaps because he also saw his failings, perhaps for some other, unknown, reason.
Ignoring his opposing thoughts, Touchstone strode forward and introduced himself, warmly shaking the newcomer’s hand. Helmrune’s face remained impassive, but the greeting was returned with no less cordiality. The young Fool found himself having a hard time looking at the young Lords face as pleasantries were exchanged, and was embarrassed that he could neither meet his gaze nor hold it for very long. It was simply a feeling of dislike, but founded on no reason that the young Fool could think of. Upon Lord Ginndem’s suggestion, Esther led Helmrune to a room he could stay in, and Touchstone was left alone to mull over the new arrival.
Lord Ginndem had sat back down on his throne as Touchstone approached. The young Fool rubbed his stubbly chin, thinking, while in the Lords field of view, both of the current situation and his distaste for shaving. “What troubles you, lad?” said the Lord.
“I don’t know,” replied the Fool, “There’s something about Helmrune I find disquieting.”
“While he is decidedly less…animate, he seems to possess the same sincerity that I see in you.”
“That is the crux: I see no reason why I should feel so off balance.”
“You’ll find, lad, that there are people in the world who will make you feel that way,” said the Lord, “Sometimes, it’s as you say: there seems to be no reason for it. If you think time away from him would be best for you, the Keep is large.”
“I don’t know,” replied the young Fool, “I’ll have to see how this all plays out.”
Another week then passed, and the young Fool and the young Lord met each other sporadically. Touchstone would often join Esther and Helmrune at the hearth of the great hall, and the young Lord sometimes sat with the others in the Sunroom. Each man began to learn of each other as the three passed the time in conversation. Touchstone would tell of great myths and legends of old, bringing smiles to Esther’s and even Helmrune’s stoic face. The young Lord himself would tell of his life in the East, and the others would listen attentively, asking questions and relating similar tales of their own. Esther, by far, told the best stories, both of her life in the Keep and her knowledge of things that grow. Each of the young men devoured her words with hungry ears, and all would laugh or be silent as one when she held the conversation.
Though friendship grew between the three, Touchstone never quite became comfortable with the young Lord. Even during times when they felt like brothers, there was an odd detachment in the young Fool’s mind. Perhaps it was Helmrune’s inscrutability, the lack of response that would tell the young Fool how the other regarded him in his turn. Eventually it faded to the back of his mind and became a natural part of his life with the Keep.
While that situation eased into a sense of normalcy, Touchstone’s relationship with Esther remained mostly unchanged. Though the two shared time together, perhaps a few quiet words on the parapets at night, a few moments sharing each others warmth under the cold night sky, the young Fool couldn’t bring himself to fully explain his situation to her, or to fully begin to court her. As much as he desired change, he also felt the pull of the past, and the chance that he had to go back.
In addition to his own uncertainty on the matter, Esther also was spending more time with Helmrune. Whether in friendship or flirtation was something that Touchstone couldn’t tell, but he believed that his own reticence was most likely contributing to the whole situation. Such things became background occurrences to the cameraderie that they all shared, however, and life continued to go on within the stone walls.
To Be Continued in Chapter 4
Enough. More Later,
- James
A few quick things before the next installation of my Swords story. The first, I've re-enabled comments for anyone on this blog, seeing as I've been paranoid long enough. I do warn the potential flamers out there, all comments will be sent to me for clearance before they are posted, so don't try anything funny.
Secondly, I consider this tale as a work in progress. I fully expect to get input on how people think the story is and what could be improved. Everything that's going up is basically a rough draft, formed well enough to have people see but in no way finished. Let me know what y'all think!
Thirdly, I got to see Casino Royale a week back, and I loved the heck out of it. Le Chiffre is probably my favorite Bond villain of them all: I don't know if this was an invention of the script-writers, but to have him be asthmatic was friggin awesome. The funny thing, as I was telling Patrick a few days ago, was that for all the sucking on the Albuteral that the villain did, he was very rarely out of breath. Anyway, everyone go watch it, if you haven't already.
And away we go!
Chapter 3: Friendship
The sun had climbed slightly closer to it’s apex since Touchstone had last checked, and he stood up on the knoll in order to stretch his legs. Since he still had quite some time until the meeting was to occur, he unsheathed Doomgiver and began to practice his footwork on the gently sloping hill. After he had found his footing, his body naturally settled into the familiar sets of parry drills. His mind free, he continued to think about his recovery in Ginndem Keep.
Although he didn’t see Esther again after that first encounter, he was looked after by the matronly Lady Ginndem. She had clucked and fussed over the young Fool’s thin and lanky frame, bringing him hearty stews, meats, and breads for his meals. Touchstone was only too happy to oblige, though he was also weak enough to not be able to refuse. Lady Ginndem reminded him of his own mother; the round and solid frame, the quiet voice, and the care in everything she did. Under her care, Ginndem Keep began to feel like a second home.
A week after his arrival, he was up and walking again, if not quickly, and he had begun to explore the keep with Esther. The practice yard caught his interest, being a man of the sword, yet she was quick to point out that no-one used it during the winter, the weather being too harsh. They visited Esther’s sunroom as well, and Touchstone was fascinated by the system of oiled animal-skins that both let in sunlight yet maintained a pleasantly warm temperature within. There was also a small fire-pit in the middle of the room, “Mainly to keep me warm in the colder months,” she had explained, “most of these plants can survive the cold, but there are a few that I can lose if I’m not careful.” Touchstone felt a certain comfort resting in the sunroom, the green surrounding him lightened his thoughts and his heart, and he found himself spending many a time conversing with Esther among the plants.
Another week passed, and the young Fool felt strength returning. He found himself spending more and more time in Esther’s company, her friendship was invaluable, but he also felt the thrill of knowing that there may be more to their simple desire to wile away the hours with each other. Whenever they accidentally bumped into each other, whenever their hands brushed as each passed by, Touchstone felt a desire that he had not felt since his days of courting in the southern lands. He wanted to become involved with Esther because it filled the hole in his heart, but at the same time he did not want to, and when he felt the latter he would become quiet and twist the silver ring around his finger.
He was saved the trouble of dealing with his feelings when a new visitor arrived at Ginndem Keep. A young man, of similar stature as Touchstone, approached and kneeled before Lord Ginndem, while the young Fool and Esther watched from the side. “I am the Lord of Helmrune, sir,” the young man stated.
Lord Ginndem sat back in his throne, waiting for some further explanation. When none came, he asked “And what brings you to Ginndem Keep?”
Helmrune’s face, maintaining a blank passivity, said “My father wishes that I leave and explore the world, now that I have received Lordship.” Touchstone felt somewhat disquieted by the lack of animation on the young Lord’s face, and whether or not Lord Ginndem felt the same way, he could not tell, for he was busy smoothing his mustache out, much as he had the day Touchstone had arrived.
“I’m curious, boy,” said Lord Ginndem, and if Helmrune took offence at the diminutive, his face showed no sign, “Why here? Ginndem Keep isn’t full of any court intrigue, and combat or military training can be had better and more easily with some our neighbors.”
A shadow of thought passed over Helmrune’s face, but it came and left so quickly that Touchstone thought he might have imagined it. The young Lord took a breath, “It is the first step on my journey.”
Lord Ginndem paused, digesting this small piece of information, and then smiled at Helmrune. It was a friendly smile, but it lacked the warmth that Touchstone remembered from his own experience. “Very well. I daresay you’ll have some good company, what with another wanderer staying with us as well.” Lord Ginndem looked toward the place where Touchstone and Esther were standing, and Helmrune followed his gaze. The eyes of the two young men met, and the young Fool felt a clash of emotion. He saw in Helmrune many qualities of himself, which would otherwise inspire a growing desire to become friends. Yet, for almost the same reasons, he was repulsed, perhaps because he also saw his failings, perhaps for some other, unknown, reason.
Ignoring his opposing thoughts, Touchstone strode forward and introduced himself, warmly shaking the newcomer’s hand. Helmrune’s face remained impassive, but the greeting was returned with no less cordiality. The young Fool found himself having a hard time looking at the young Lords face as pleasantries were exchanged, and was embarrassed that he could neither meet his gaze nor hold it for very long. It was simply a feeling of dislike, but founded on no reason that the young Fool could think of. Upon Lord Ginndem’s suggestion, Esther led Helmrune to a room he could stay in, and Touchstone was left alone to mull over the new arrival.
Lord Ginndem had sat back down on his throne as Touchstone approached. The young Fool rubbed his stubbly chin, thinking, while in the Lords field of view, both of the current situation and his distaste for shaving. “What troubles you, lad?” said the Lord.
“I don’t know,” replied the Fool, “There’s something about Helmrune I find disquieting.”
“While he is decidedly less…animate, he seems to possess the same sincerity that I see in you.”
“That is the crux: I see no reason why I should feel so off balance.”
“You’ll find, lad, that there are people in the world who will make you feel that way,” said the Lord, “Sometimes, it’s as you say: there seems to be no reason for it. If you think time away from him would be best for you, the Keep is large.”
“I don’t know,” replied the young Fool, “I’ll have to see how this all plays out.”
Another week then passed, and the young Fool and the young Lord met each other sporadically. Touchstone would often join Esther and Helmrune at the hearth of the great hall, and the young Lord sometimes sat with the others in the Sunroom. Each man began to learn of each other as the three passed the time in conversation. Touchstone would tell of great myths and legends of old, bringing smiles to Esther’s and even Helmrune’s stoic face. The young Lord himself would tell of his life in the East, and the others would listen attentively, asking questions and relating similar tales of their own. Esther, by far, told the best stories, both of her life in the Keep and her knowledge of things that grow. Each of the young men devoured her words with hungry ears, and all would laugh or be silent as one when she held the conversation.
Though friendship grew between the three, Touchstone never quite became comfortable with the young Lord. Even during times when they felt like brothers, there was an odd detachment in the young Fool’s mind. Perhaps it was Helmrune’s inscrutability, the lack of response that would tell the young Fool how the other regarded him in his turn. Eventually it faded to the back of his mind and became a natural part of his life with the Keep.
While that situation eased into a sense of normalcy, Touchstone’s relationship with Esther remained mostly unchanged. Though the two shared time together, perhaps a few quiet words on the parapets at night, a few moments sharing each others warmth under the cold night sky, the young Fool couldn’t bring himself to fully explain his situation to her, or to fully begin to court her. As much as he desired change, he also felt the pull of the past, and the chance that he had to go back.
In addition to his own uncertainty on the matter, Esther also was spending more time with Helmrune. Whether in friendship or flirtation was something that Touchstone couldn’t tell, but he believed that his own reticence was most likely contributing to the whole situation. Such things became background occurrences to the cameraderie that they all shared, however, and life continued to go on within the stone walls.
To Be Continued in Chapter 4
Enough. More Later,
- James
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