Currently in Earphones: X-Ray Dog Production Music up the waz
So, I went and saw the Chieftains at Mondavi on the 30th, and it was a blast. They have such great energy, and although I was initially worried that the venue would be ill-suited for such music, I was quickly proven that that all depends on the group. My only regret is that I came with a handful of cashy money to throw at the vendors and get more of their CD's, but they didn't seem to have any of them. Oh, and they played an awesome encore piece that I could only find part of on their Celtic Wedding Album. Ah well, 'twas fun anyway.
Then we had a get together on Friday evening that grew from about 4 of us to at least 10 people. It looked at first to be somewhat scary in how fast it all came together (more by chance than by planning on my part), but everything worked out well and we all had a blast. I think I'm still recovering from staying up 'till late-o'clock.
The Father unit came up on Saturday (and would have been accompanied by the Mother unit, except she had come down with something), and we took a stroll around the Covell Greenbelt. Later my Pop treated me to dinner and groceries, and I showed him the money vortex that is Armadillo Records. Fun was had by all and the Parents will probably be back up again when Mumsie has recovered.
I then proceeded to become entirely too distracted on both Sunday and Today, in that I had a Latin midterm that I did the barest amount of studying for while downloading music/watching comedy on YouTube/Facebooking/Webcomicing/Anything else that distracted me. I seemed to do all right on the test, but I think I bombed on the Scansion portion (i.e., figuring out where the feet in poetic meter go in certain lines).
Going to try and go to fencing tonight, though I feel rather sluggish. I haven't had a chance to repair my torn knickers (just some broken Velcro) and will probably be joining the sweat/workout pants club for the time being (Back into the ranks, Mr. Chen?), that is, until I go make some friends in the costume shop and pick up some sewing tips.
And now, to fold some laundry.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Edit: Didn't end up going to fencing: I started to repair my knickers and suddenly my throat felt sore. Looks like I'm coming down with something, perhaps whatever it is my mom has. This might end up sucking. Early bed for me!
Monday, February 05, 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
Monday, January 29, 2007
Gaelic Storm!!!
Currently in Earphones: Bring Yer Wellies by Gaelic Storm
The song "Kelly's Wellies" by the above mentioned group always makes me smile...
When I was a young 'un, I knew a lad from Ballybunyon
He hadn't got a single penny to his name, you might say,
He had a raggedy coat, and like two rubber boats
He kept his Wellington Boots on from December until May.
(Chorus:)
It was Kevin Kelly, with his chopped off Wellies
In the middle of the Summertime, he was lookin' fine!
His pants had holes in the knees, but he was proud as you please
With his old Wellies...he'd keep strollin' along!
As we got older, and slyer and bolder
And the girls we had our eyes on, they got older as well.
With paint on their faces, and curves in nice places!
Well we were dressed to impress them and we thought that we were swell!
Well our duds were in fashion to kindle the passion
And there was Kevin on the dance floor looking anything but neat.
He was tryin' to flirt, in his hand-me-down shirt,
With the same old Wellies on his two big feet!
(Chorus)
Well we teased him and we mocked him, but sure that never shocked him,
He painted on some laces and cut them down to look like shoes.
He was poor but he had style, he made everybody smile
He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies....
Like he had nuthin' to lose!
The next time we found him, well the girls were all around him
He was busten' out the moves, he was as happy as can be!
One of the girls came near, and whipsered in my ear,
"Only boys who wear their Wellies have a chance wit' me!"
(Chorus x2)
You know it's a fun song when the lead singer starts giggling through the last line of the chorus!
Enough, More Later.
- James
The song "Kelly's Wellies" by the above mentioned group always makes me smile...
When I was a young 'un, I knew a lad from Ballybunyon
He hadn't got a single penny to his name, you might say,
He had a raggedy coat, and like two rubber boats
He kept his Wellington Boots on from December until May.
(Chorus:)
It was Kevin Kelly, with his chopped off Wellies
In the middle of the Summertime, he was lookin' fine!
His pants had holes in the knees, but he was proud as you please
With his old Wellies...he'd keep strollin' along!
As we got older, and slyer and bolder
And the girls we had our eyes on, they got older as well.
With paint on their faces, and curves in nice places!
Well we were dressed to impress them and we thought that we were swell!
Well our duds were in fashion to kindle the passion
And there was Kevin on the dance floor looking anything but neat.
He was tryin' to flirt, in his hand-me-down shirt,
With the same old Wellies on his two big feet!
(Chorus)
Well we teased him and we mocked him, but sure that never shocked him,
He painted on some laces and cut them down to look like shoes.
He was poor but he had style, he made everybody smile
He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies....
Like he had nuthin' to lose!
The next time we found him, well the girls were all around him
He was busten' out the moves, he was as happy as can be!
One of the girls came near, and whipsered in my ear,
"Only boys who wear their Wellies have a chance wit' me!"
(Chorus x2)
You know it's a fun song when the lead singer starts giggling through the last line of the chorus!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Saturday, January 27, 2007
A Story of Swords, Part 6
Currently in Earphones: Whiskey Supper by The Wicked Tinkers
Sorry, I lied last post. I was too wiped by the end of Thursday to post the next installment of my short story. Then Friday in all of it's tough glory came around. Here's how it went down...
On Wednesday I realized for the first time that the concert conflicted with my work schedule, seeing that I had to play at noon and usually work from 9am-1pm. No big deal, I think, I'll make up the extra hours the next day. The only problem was that my only free hours were between classes during my only break, so my Friday schedule looked a little something like this:
9am - 10am - Music 10 (with listening quiz)
10am - 11am - Classics 1
11am - 1pm - Work
1pm - 2pm - Latin 110N: Ovid
2pm - 3pm - Cicero
Yup, on campus for six hours straight and no sign of a break. I managed to snag a few snacks during work, but I was laggin' pretty bad by the time I got out of Cicero. I spent the next hour at home going "God! Why am I so depressed? And why am I so tired?" Of course, when I finally lurched into the kitchen for a sandwich and got something in my stomach, I felt so much better.
As for this weekend, I'm going to drag myself to the library for some initial research on my Classics 190 paper, then study for two midterms, one in the previously mentioned and one in Classics 1. Thankfully I'm off the hook for Ovid, seeing that I translated twice as much as we went over on Friday: luckily our Prof assigned up to the line where I originally stopped for Monday, so I can coast for the time being.
And now, without much further ado, the next chapter of my Story of Swords. Despite the fact that I initially skipped writing the chapter before this because I wanted to write this one so bad, I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it as it currently stands, even after some initial editing. I will be going over the chapters again later on, but here it is for the time being.
(Oh, and for those of you wondering what the hell Helmrune is talking about when he first speaks in this chapter, I've begun to draft a Chapter 3.5 that delves more into some interaction between him and Touchstone. It'll all make sense in the end, but for now, enjoy the swordplay!)
Chapter 6: Steel and Sweat
The small figure that strode toward Touchstone gradually resolved itself into the figure of Helmrune, the black-hilt of Coinspinner prominent on his hip. Touchstone took a deep breath and released it, loosening Doomgiver and readying himself for what was to come.
The young Lord stopped a few paces from Touchstone and regarded him coldly. “You have a habit of making things difficult, Master Fool. You tell me one thing, and then do another. You make life difficult for Esther. I wonder if it not be better that you leave.”
“I think you’ll find that these complications are more than just my influence, friend,” Touchstone replied, “Besides, there is more to this world than what is within the walls of the Keep.”
Bitterness crept into Helmrune’s voice, “And you would be the one to turn me out? To point me outwards under the guise of wise advice, to turn me away from something I finally found that matters to me?”
“This is not the end of your life, nor should you think it so,” said Touchstone, struggling to find words to appease the young Lord, “Perhaps it would be better to leave things be here, perhaps it would be beneficial to start anew, to find something less complicated.”
“Spare me your sermonizing!” Helmrune cried, ripping Coinspinner out of its scabbard. The meteoric steel rang harshly in tune with his shout. “Too long have I stood silent, fearful of failing. Too long have I let good things pass me by; I will not simply stand and watch while happiness is taken from me again!”
Touchstone grimly drew Doomgiver, the cold sound of the blade sounding an uncomfortable dissonance with the fading ringing of Coinspinner. His anger at the young Lord was paralleled with a great swell of pity, aroused by Helmrune’s pained speech that had so often echoed through Touchstone’s own head.
With that feeling of fellowship strong in his mind, the young Fool didn’t believe the words that came through his mouth. He felt a similar righteous outrage at the doctrine of near-endless patience he was wont to believe in as the young Lord as he said, “We still have time to discover new things. Hastiness can only bring conflict.”
“Fortune favors the brave, my lord,” growled Helmrune, coiling himself to strike, “And I no longer fear to be brave with luck on my side. Luck that your sniveling ‘Justice’ would do well to note!” And with that, the young Lord sprang at Touchstone, Coinspinner at the ready. The last thing Touchstone remembered before Doomgiver cleared his mind for the oncoming fight was that he rather agreed with his opponent, though steel would have to be tested before words could once again be of use.
The Sword of Chance came at him in a simple, but savage, thrust, which he parried to his outside. Touchstone’s mind was ready for the next action, when the young Lord’s momentum accidentally carried him further forward, Coinspinner’s point angling toward his arm. Before he could react, Doomgiver acted for him, extending the parry further outward while the offending point slid harmlessly past Touchstone’s body. Both men, stunned by the swords influence, leaped back out of range. Each regarded the other for a moment, and Touchstone knew that the young Lord, immediately charging at him again, understood The Sword of Chance’s power. If he faltered, even for a moment, the advantage would leave him. In order to have a chance of winning against such a force as Doomgiver, he would need to press his luck.
Helmrune charged again, Coinspinner extended in the same savage thrust. Touchstone knew it to be something more as the point rushed toward his body, and he made as if to parry it in the same manner as before. As he had thought, Helmrune disengaged, circling the tip of Coinspinner around the oncoming edge of Doomgiver, and into the unprotected hole above his moving arm, straight at his chest. Almost as a reflexive afterthought, Touchstone retreated back a step, moving in time with Helmrune’s blade and keeping it a few inches from his chest, simultaneously moving his hand back across his body. Touchstone’s training made him fast, but not fast enough to counter the luck of the Sword of Chance. As the two swordsman moved as one, the young Fool backwards and the young Lord forwards, the tip of Coinspinner grazed Touchstone’s upper arm as he moved his opponent’s blade to his right, away from further harm.
Grimacing, Touchstone planted his feet, preparing for the impact of Helmrune’s charge. Glaring at his opponent, he snapped the wrist of is sword hand down into a more comfortable pronated parry, shoving Coinspinner aside and firmly away from him. Using his momentum as before, the young Lord barreled into the young Fool, knocking his opponent onto his rear despite his good footing. Helmrune had remained standing, and Touchstone watched in horror as he began to lift Coinspinner for a final blow.
However, as the young Lord began to heft his sword into the air, he let out a cry of pain and dropped the point to the ground. At first amazed, but then with growing understanding, Touchstone saw blood bloom on the same part of Helmrune’s arm as his, where Coinspinner had made a lucky cut earlier. Looking down at his own arm, the young Fool saw only rosy flesh, and no cut or scar marred the place where Coinspinner had passed earlier. Doomgiver had delivered justice, as it was wont to.
More out of reflexes than anything else, Touchstone sprang to his feet and lunged, angling the point of Doomgiver low, toward Helmrune’s leg. The young Lord, also reflexively, retreated back a step and parried from the draw, his hand and arm at chest level and his sword pointing straight down, almost locking the young Fool’s blade out. At the last moment, Touchstone circled his sword underneath Helmrune’s defense and angled his blade upward, avoiding the defending sword and catching the young Lord’s left arm with Doomgiver’s point.
They both leapt backwards and paused, recovering breath. Touchstone smiled ruefully at his successful attack, only to realize that the same twisting smile was growing on Helmrune’s face. The young Fool noticed a growing pain in his left arm, and looked down to see that the same wound he had inflicted on the young Lord had appeared on his arm as well. Looking back at Helmrune, Touchstone saw that the spot on his left arm where the Sword of Justice had inflicted a wound was clear and healthy. Doomgiver truly did not discriminate, and the swords wielder realized with growing fear that there was no way to harm his opponent without harming himself. Though he could play a defensive game, he would need to work hard not to counterattack so that the Sword of Justice couldn’t work against him. And if it was blood that Helmrune wanted to quench his anger, he would not get any of Touchstone’s
Whether such a realization concerning the interaction of the sword’s power had occurred to Helmrune, Touchstone couldn’t tell, he only just had time to parry to his inside once again as Coinspinner came edge-wise at his wounded left arm. Stepping forward and moving the two blades away to lock out his opponent, Touchstone grabbed the wrist of Helmrune’s right hand to further prevent him from attacking, and Helmrune did the same to the young Fool’s sword arm.
So locked, Touchstone spoke, breathing heavily, “All is not what it seems, my friend.”
Helmrune, emboldened by Doomgiver’s impartiality and Coinspinner’s luck, laughed. “You hide behind your words as you hide behind your Sword of Power. I wonder if you were not in my position once. Did you hide then as you did now, letting what mattered to you slip away on account of your weak philosophy? Know that I will not make the same mistake.”
“Fool!” Shouted Touchstone, enraged at the young Lords biting insight and mockery, “What do you know of pain? What do you know of denying your own happiness for someone else’s?”
Each young man’s rage feeding his opponents anger, Helmrune bared his teeth and bellowed, “EVERYTHING!”
In unison, they drew back their heads, then slammed them forward, meeting forehead-to-forehead with tremendous force. Stunned, they reeled, releasing their hold on each others hands and staggering backwards.
Recovering, they shared a look that said much. There was respect and new found brotherhood as each began to grasp their similarities on a subject that meant much to them. At the same time, anger still burned for the apparent contempt that each young man had shown for the other, and relishing the refreshing rage that boiled within, they abandoned themselves to their swords and charged at each other anew.
To be continued in Chapter 7
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sorry, I lied last post. I was too wiped by the end of Thursday to post the next installment of my short story. Then Friday in all of it's tough glory came around. Here's how it went down...
On Wednesday I realized for the first time that the concert conflicted with my work schedule, seeing that I had to play at noon and usually work from 9am-1pm. No big deal, I think, I'll make up the extra hours the next day. The only problem was that my only free hours were between classes during my only break, so my Friday schedule looked a little something like this:
9am - 10am - Music 10 (with listening quiz)
10am - 11am - Classics 1
11am - 1pm - Work
1pm - 2pm - Latin 110N: Ovid
2pm - 3pm - Cicero
Yup, on campus for six hours straight and no sign of a break. I managed to snag a few snacks during work, but I was laggin' pretty bad by the time I got out of Cicero. I spent the next hour at home going "God! Why am I so depressed? And why am I so tired?" Of course, when I finally lurched into the kitchen for a sandwich and got something in my stomach, I felt so much better.
As for this weekend, I'm going to drag myself to the library for some initial research on my Classics 190 paper, then study for two midterms, one in the previously mentioned and one in Classics 1. Thankfully I'm off the hook for Ovid, seeing that I translated twice as much as we went over on Friday: luckily our Prof assigned up to the line where I originally stopped for Monday, so I can coast for the time being.
And now, without much further ado, the next chapter of my Story of Swords. Despite the fact that I initially skipped writing the chapter before this because I wanted to write this one so bad, I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it as it currently stands, even after some initial editing. I will be going over the chapters again later on, but here it is for the time being.
(Oh, and for those of you wondering what the hell Helmrune is talking about when he first speaks in this chapter, I've begun to draft a Chapter 3.5 that delves more into some interaction between him and Touchstone. It'll all make sense in the end, but for now, enjoy the swordplay!)
Chapter 6: Steel and Sweat
The small figure that strode toward Touchstone gradually resolved itself into the figure of Helmrune, the black-hilt of Coinspinner prominent on his hip. Touchstone took a deep breath and released it, loosening Doomgiver and readying himself for what was to come.
The young Lord stopped a few paces from Touchstone and regarded him coldly. “You have a habit of making things difficult, Master Fool. You tell me one thing, and then do another. You make life difficult for Esther. I wonder if it not be better that you leave.”
“I think you’ll find that these complications are more than just my influence, friend,” Touchstone replied, “Besides, there is more to this world than what is within the walls of the Keep.”
Bitterness crept into Helmrune’s voice, “And you would be the one to turn me out? To point me outwards under the guise of wise advice, to turn me away from something I finally found that matters to me?”
“This is not the end of your life, nor should you think it so,” said Touchstone, struggling to find words to appease the young Lord, “Perhaps it would be better to leave things be here, perhaps it would be beneficial to start anew, to find something less complicated.”
“Spare me your sermonizing!” Helmrune cried, ripping Coinspinner out of its scabbard. The meteoric steel rang harshly in tune with his shout. “Too long have I stood silent, fearful of failing. Too long have I let good things pass me by; I will not simply stand and watch while happiness is taken from me again!”
Touchstone grimly drew Doomgiver, the cold sound of the blade sounding an uncomfortable dissonance with the fading ringing of Coinspinner. His anger at the young Lord was paralleled with a great swell of pity, aroused by Helmrune’s pained speech that had so often echoed through Touchstone’s own head.
With that feeling of fellowship strong in his mind, the young Fool didn’t believe the words that came through his mouth. He felt a similar righteous outrage at the doctrine of near-endless patience he was wont to believe in as the young Lord as he said, “We still have time to discover new things. Hastiness can only bring conflict.”
“Fortune favors the brave, my lord,” growled Helmrune, coiling himself to strike, “And I no longer fear to be brave with luck on my side. Luck that your sniveling ‘Justice’ would do well to note!” And with that, the young Lord sprang at Touchstone, Coinspinner at the ready. The last thing Touchstone remembered before Doomgiver cleared his mind for the oncoming fight was that he rather agreed with his opponent, though steel would have to be tested before words could once again be of use.
The Sword of Chance came at him in a simple, but savage, thrust, which he parried to his outside. Touchstone’s mind was ready for the next action, when the young Lord’s momentum accidentally carried him further forward, Coinspinner’s point angling toward his arm. Before he could react, Doomgiver acted for him, extending the parry further outward while the offending point slid harmlessly past Touchstone’s body. Both men, stunned by the swords influence, leaped back out of range. Each regarded the other for a moment, and Touchstone knew that the young Lord, immediately charging at him again, understood The Sword of Chance’s power. If he faltered, even for a moment, the advantage would leave him. In order to have a chance of winning against such a force as Doomgiver, he would need to press his luck.
Helmrune charged again, Coinspinner extended in the same savage thrust. Touchstone knew it to be something more as the point rushed toward his body, and he made as if to parry it in the same manner as before. As he had thought, Helmrune disengaged, circling the tip of Coinspinner around the oncoming edge of Doomgiver, and into the unprotected hole above his moving arm, straight at his chest. Almost as a reflexive afterthought, Touchstone retreated back a step, moving in time with Helmrune’s blade and keeping it a few inches from his chest, simultaneously moving his hand back across his body. Touchstone’s training made him fast, but not fast enough to counter the luck of the Sword of Chance. As the two swordsman moved as one, the young Fool backwards and the young Lord forwards, the tip of Coinspinner grazed Touchstone’s upper arm as he moved his opponent’s blade to his right, away from further harm.
Grimacing, Touchstone planted his feet, preparing for the impact of Helmrune’s charge. Glaring at his opponent, he snapped the wrist of is sword hand down into a more comfortable pronated parry, shoving Coinspinner aside and firmly away from him. Using his momentum as before, the young Lord barreled into the young Fool, knocking his opponent onto his rear despite his good footing. Helmrune had remained standing, and Touchstone watched in horror as he began to lift Coinspinner for a final blow.
However, as the young Lord began to heft his sword into the air, he let out a cry of pain and dropped the point to the ground. At first amazed, but then with growing understanding, Touchstone saw blood bloom on the same part of Helmrune’s arm as his, where Coinspinner had made a lucky cut earlier. Looking down at his own arm, the young Fool saw only rosy flesh, and no cut or scar marred the place where Coinspinner had passed earlier. Doomgiver had delivered justice, as it was wont to.
More out of reflexes than anything else, Touchstone sprang to his feet and lunged, angling the point of Doomgiver low, toward Helmrune’s leg. The young Lord, also reflexively, retreated back a step and parried from the draw, his hand and arm at chest level and his sword pointing straight down, almost locking the young Fool’s blade out. At the last moment, Touchstone circled his sword underneath Helmrune’s defense and angled his blade upward, avoiding the defending sword and catching the young Lord’s left arm with Doomgiver’s point.
They both leapt backwards and paused, recovering breath. Touchstone smiled ruefully at his successful attack, only to realize that the same twisting smile was growing on Helmrune’s face. The young Fool noticed a growing pain in his left arm, and looked down to see that the same wound he had inflicted on the young Lord had appeared on his arm as well. Looking back at Helmrune, Touchstone saw that the spot on his left arm where the Sword of Justice had inflicted a wound was clear and healthy. Doomgiver truly did not discriminate, and the swords wielder realized with growing fear that there was no way to harm his opponent without harming himself. Though he could play a defensive game, he would need to work hard not to counterattack so that the Sword of Justice couldn’t work against him. And if it was blood that Helmrune wanted to quench his anger, he would not get any of Touchstone’s
Whether such a realization concerning the interaction of the sword’s power had occurred to Helmrune, Touchstone couldn’t tell, he only just had time to parry to his inside once again as Coinspinner came edge-wise at his wounded left arm. Stepping forward and moving the two blades away to lock out his opponent, Touchstone grabbed the wrist of Helmrune’s right hand to further prevent him from attacking, and Helmrune did the same to the young Fool’s sword arm.
So locked, Touchstone spoke, breathing heavily, “All is not what it seems, my friend.”
Helmrune, emboldened by Doomgiver’s impartiality and Coinspinner’s luck, laughed. “You hide behind your words as you hide behind your Sword of Power. I wonder if you were not in my position once. Did you hide then as you did now, letting what mattered to you slip away on account of your weak philosophy? Know that I will not make the same mistake.”
“Fool!” Shouted Touchstone, enraged at the young Lords biting insight and mockery, “What do you know of pain? What do you know of denying your own happiness for someone else’s?”
Each young man’s rage feeding his opponents anger, Helmrune bared his teeth and bellowed, “EVERYTHING!”
In unison, they drew back their heads, then slammed them forward, meeting forehead-to-forehead with tremendous force. Stunned, they reeled, releasing their hold on each others hands and staggering backwards.
Recovering, they shared a look that said much. There was respect and new found brotherhood as each began to grasp their similarities on a subject that meant much to them. At the same time, anger still burned for the apparent contempt that each young man had shown for the other, and relishing the refreshing rage that boiled within, they abandoned themselves to their swords and charged at each other anew.
To be continued in Chapter 7
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Roman Empire did what now?
Currently in Earphones: Songs from Carmina Burana (Medieval and Renaissance set), Whiskey Supper by the Wicked Tinkers
Went and saw the Wicked Tinkers and Tempest this past saturday and had a blast with Preston, Maya and family. We unfortunately had to hoof it near the end on account of how INCREDIBLY loud Tempest was (awesome music tho) and because my sister was starting to feel rather asthmatic. All in all, however, it was awesome. My parents got me a Tinkers shirt and their newest album.
Currently I'm trying to blitz through the reading for Classics 190, which essentially says that "Yeah, those guys who somewhat recently claimed that the Roman Empire 'transformed' rather than 'fell' are wrong, wrong, wrong." I'm tending to agree with him, and it makes me want to read Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
And don't ask me how this all got started, but we, the Baroque Ensemble, will be opening for the Gospel Choir of all people. Evidently Michael and Calvin (the respective leaders of each group) had wanted to do something like this for some time.
I'd write more, but I gotta get ready for that performance. I'll post the next installment of my Story of Swords later tonight.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Went and saw the Wicked Tinkers and Tempest this past saturday and had a blast with Preston, Maya and family. We unfortunately had to hoof it near the end on account of how INCREDIBLY loud Tempest was (awesome music tho) and because my sister was starting to feel rather asthmatic. All in all, however, it was awesome. My parents got me a Tinkers shirt and their newest album.
Currently I'm trying to blitz through the reading for Classics 190, which essentially says that "Yeah, those guys who somewhat recently claimed that the Roman Empire 'transformed' rather than 'fell' are wrong, wrong, wrong." I'm tending to agree with him, and it makes me want to read Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
And don't ask me how this all got started, but we, the Baroque Ensemble, will be opening for the Gospel Choir of all people. Evidently Michael and Calvin (the respective leaders of each group) had wanted to do something like this for some time.
I'd write more, but I gotta get ready for that performance. I'll post the next installment of my Story of Swords later tonight.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Random Bits and Pieces
Currently in Earphones: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Complete Recordings by Howard Shore
First off, Karaoke with the fencers was lots of fun. There were a few little snags and bumps along the way, but overall it was pretty neat. We got everyone to sing, even if it was all of us belting out songs at once. My only problem was that we had just a tad too many people, in that we couldn't satisfy every ones musical wishes in the time we had. Make no mistake, we picked songs that (hopefully) everyone knew so as to get everyone involved. But as Preston said to me, it would have been nice to see some smaller groups go up there. Two highlights were a group of guys and a group of girls singing "Phantom of the Opera" (I very much enjoyed being part of that one), and Preston finding "Dragostea din tei" (which, for some reason, was on one of the lists that was in Korean and not on the English list. The english list had Rammstein, for crying out loud!). Suffice to say, I'd love to do it again (perhaps in a smaller group). I wait with baited breath for the pictures from last night to surface, as well....
Secondly, I've noticed that whenever I'm in a conversation with more than one person. I have this habit of being overrun by the other participants. We'll be talking along, there would be a pause, and I'll begin to say something only to be talked over by someone else. I, being the guy that I am, stop and let the other person say what they want, then try again at the next pause or break. Sometimes this happens more than once in a row, and it's very strange. I really would like to understand just why this is happening. Am I horrible at reading some sort of social cue? Am I not a forceful enough presence in conversation? Is what I have to say really that boorish? Help me out here, because even though it may be a natural part of conversation to accidentally talk over each other, it seems to happen to me far more frequently than I'd like.
Thirdly, and lastly, I learned an interesting bit of information in Music 10 a few days ago. To start at the beginning of why this was so, we go to San Luis Obispo, home of my grandparents. There's a restaurant/hotel/place called The Apple Farm in northern SLO that I've gone to since I was a young lad, and they have what I would call the coziest gift shop ever. It's spread across 3 levels: more adult things on the bottom level, the middle connecting with the restaurant, and the top having the greatest little nook of children's toys and books that I ever saw. I'll always remember that nook as it was 10-15 years ago, because at that point it had all the usual wooden and plastic doodads and jimcracks that a young boy could want, and a book rack full of Berenstain Bears and Golden books. It has changed over time, but that's the way I really liked it. Small and cozy, with a bay window looking out to the creek filled with clear shelves of toys, and the final topper was that they always played Baroque music in the background, which made it feel very classy.
I remember first getting into classical music, and always having in mind the atmosphere and sound of the toy nook in the Apple farm. At first what seemed to fit perfectly was the first movement of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, but later I stumbled upon another small piece by Bach called Badinerie for flute and strings. Even later I would find out that it came from his Orchestral Suite No. 2, but suffice to say that that piece fit my memory even better, and if it were not for the malleability of memory, I would swear that I remember that very same song playing as I fooled around with wooden toy soldiers. The cap on all of this was when we were going over the selfsame movement in Music 10, and I found out that the title literally means "Plaything." How satisfyingly fitting!
Enough, More Later.
- James
First off, Karaoke with the fencers was lots of fun. There were a few little snags and bumps along the way, but overall it was pretty neat. We got everyone to sing, even if it was all of us belting out songs at once. My only problem was that we had just a tad too many people, in that we couldn't satisfy every ones musical wishes in the time we had. Make no mistake, we picked songs that (hopefully) everyone knew so as to get everyone involved. But as Preston said to me, it would have been nice to see some smaller groups go up there. Two highlights were a group of guys and a group of girls singing "Phantom of the Opera" (I very much enjoyed being part of that one), and Preston finding "Dragostea din tei" (which, for some reason, was on one of the lists that was in Korean and not on the English list. The english list had Rammstein, for crying out loud!). Suffice to say, I'd love to do it again (perhaps in a smaller group). I wait with baited breath for the pictures from last night to surface, as well....
Secondly, I've noticed that whenever I'm in a conversation with more than one person. I have this habit of being overrun by the other participants. We'll be talking along, there would be a pause, and I'll begin to say something only to be talked over by someone else. I, being the guy that I am, stop and let the other person say what they want, then try again at the next pause or break. Sometimes this happens more than once in a row, and it's very strange. I really would like to understand just why this is happening. Am I horrible at reading some sort of social cue? Am I not a forceful enough presence in conversation? Is what I have to say really that boorish? Help me out here, because even though it may be a natural part of conversation to accidentally talk over each other, it seems to happen to me far more frequently than I'd like.
Thirdly, and lastly, I learned an interesting bit of information in Music 10 a few days ago. To start at the beginning of why this was so, we go to San Luis Obispo, home of my grandparents. There's a restaurant/hotel/place called The Apple Farm in northern SLO that I've gone to since I was a young lad, and they have what I would call the coziest gift shop ever. It's spread across 3 levels: more adult things on the bottom level, the middle connecting with the restaurant, and the top having the greatest little nook of children's toys and books that I ever saw. I'll always remember that nook as it was 10-15 years ago, because at that point it had all the usual wooden and plastic doodads and jimcracks that a young boy could want, and a book rack full of Berenstain Bears and Golden books. It has changed over time, but that's the way I really liked it. Small and cozy, with a bay window looking out to the creek filled with clear shelves of toys, and the final topper was that they always played Baroque music in the background, which made it feel very classy.
I remember first getting into classical music, and always having in mind the atmosphere and sound of the toy nook in the Apple farm. At first what seemed to fit perfectly was the first movement of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, but later I stumbled upon another small piece by Bach called Badinerie for flute and strings. Even later I would find out that it came from his Orchestral Suite No. 2, but suffice to say that that piece fit my memory even better, and if it were not for the malleability of memory, I would swear that I remember that very same song playing as I fooled around with wooden toy soldiers. The cap on all of this was when we were going over the selfsame movement in Music 10, and I found out that the title literally means "Plaything." How satisfyingly fitting!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
A pair of ragged claws...
Currently in Earphones "Main Theme" from The Ususal Suspects Soundtrack by John Ottman (on endless repeat)
"Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille saggitas. / uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor."
- Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Amores 1.1, lines 25-26
"Miserable me! That boy has precise arrows. / I burn, and love reigns in my empty heart."
While Ovid wasn't considered the most honest poet about love (seeing that his Amores are highly sarcastic and his Ars Amatoria are essentially a guide to getting laid), I find pieces of his poems fitting out of context.
In the above mentioned, he very wittily writes about how he was going to write an epic poem, but Cupid came down and took a metric foot away from the second line of his couplets, transforming the poem from a Heroic dactylic hexameter to a Lyric construction.
"Damn you, Cupid!" he says, essentially, "Now I'm in love but with no-one to be in love with!"
I feel his pain on a Catullus-like level.
Enough, More Later.
- James
"Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille saggitas. / uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor."
- Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Amores 1.1, lines 25-26
"Miserable me! That boy has precise arrows. / I burn, and love reigns in my empty heart."
While Ovid wasn't considered the most honest poet about love (seeing that his Amores are highly sarcastic and his Ars Amatoria are essentially a guide to getting laid), I find pieces of his poems fitting out of context.
In the above mentioned, he very wittily writes about how he was going to write an epic poem, but Cupid came down and took a metric foot away from the second line of his couplets, transforming the poem from a Heroic dactylic hexameter to a Lyric construction.
"Damn you, Cupid!" he says, essentially, "Now I'm in love but with no-one to be in love with!"
I feel his pain on a Catullus-like level.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
A Story of Swords, Part 5
Currently in Earphones: The Ususal Suspects soundtrack by John Ottman
Wow, big burst of creativity has got me through the initial drafts of the next two chapters of my Story of Swords. You will only get to see the first of them for the time being, as I wrote the second one (and am writing this) through a haze of fatigue. As such, here's chapter 5.
Chapter 5: Conflict
Touchstone’s gaze wandered toward the Keep, from which he saw a lone figure emerge in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until it and the sword it wore would confront him on the small hillock. The young Fool began to recall the past few weeks that had led up to this coming moment…
Touchstone and Esther were sitting side by side on the hearth of the great hall, their backs to the warmth of the dying fire. The winter was moving away from its most bitter, and they both had a large blanket thrown about them. They had been talking quietly about many things, their hands intertwined with each other under the warmth of the cloth. During lulls in the conversation, Esther would lean her head against Touchstone’s shoulder and he would rest his scruffy chin on the top of her head. Lady Ginndem bustled about the hall, making sure that every speck of dust was removed from the various tapestries, her watchful glances toward the young couple belying her real reason for lingering in the great room. Touchstone, catching her watchful gaze, was relieved to see the Lady smile approvingly every now and then, and he continued to talk without fear of reprobation.
The young man and woman had finished a spirited talk concerning the properties of medicinal herbs when Esther quieted and adopted a look of worry.
“What is it?” asked Touchstone.
“Well, it’s both you and Helmrune. I’m so glad we have become good friends over the last month, and I enjoy spending time with you and him. It’s flattering to have two young men vying for your attention," she paused, adopting a more pensive look, "but you both confuse me.”
“I know I have been less than straightforward with you,” admitted the young Fool, “But Helmrune’s intentions are easily seen. He’s quite taken with you.”
“I suppose, but he goes back and forth. I start to talk with him about this subject and that subject, to learn what he thinks and who he is, but I don’t learn very much. Other times he writes me poems and proclaims his love for me, but all I can do is to tell him that I need to know him better if I am to give him a similarly straight response.”
“A solid rock, that one,” Touchstone wryly commented. Esther smiled briefly, and then continued.
“With you, it’s the other way. I know so much about you, you’re almost like a brother to me. I feel comfortable talking of anything and everything with you. I do admit,” and she blushed slightly, squeezing his hand, “I enjoy being with you. But with you, I don’t really know what you want. You did finally tell me about your ring, and that much I know.”
“Oh, yes. That dramatic tale,” the young Fool said dryly, and felt the silver band encircling his finger, something he’d of late grown so used to as to forget about.
“But what do you want for the future?” she continued. “You like me well enough, but we don’t talk much of such things beyond that.”
Touchstone became more serious and sighed quietly. “I still am not too sure myself. As you say, I like you very much, and you fill a hole in me that has been empty for too long. I am content as I haven’t been in a long while, but I don’t think this is the end of my journey. I still have more things to do, things I need to return to and resolve. It will be a long while yet before my story has ended.”
They were quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only noise, and the occasional soft footstep of Lady Ginndem. He then continued, “But, until then, I would desire to stay with you, as it were: if you would have me and know that, eventually, I would go.”
Esther’s hand loosened in his. “I would, for the most part,” she replied “But I wonder if the pain of your eventual leaving would be lessened if we parted sooner.”
Her words echoed in Touchstone’s mind, stirring old memories. He let go of her hand and fingered his silver ring. “Perhaps it would be better,” he said, “I’ve not had such things go well before.” He turned to look at her and found her eyes full of concern.
“Her?” she said simply, and he understood who Esther was referring to.
“Yes” he replied, and started to look away, but found her hand cradling his cheek. He looked back into her eyes as she turned his face back towards her own. He drank deep of her green eyes as she drew his face towards hers, and for the moment let all care fall away as they shared a kiss. He could have spent eternity in such a comfort, but they were both startled by approaching footsteps.
They sheepishly broke away from each other and turned toward the noise. Touchstone was surprised to see not Lady Ginndem striding forward, as he expected, but the young Lord, carrying a sword and scabbard in his hand. The young Fool stared at the black hilt, wondering at first if Helmrune had taken Doomgiver from his room, but upon catching sight of the twin white dice upon the handle realized that Coinspinner had found its way to the Keep.
Helmrune’s eyes betrayed an undercurrent of jealousy as he approached, and Touchstone realized that the young Lord had seen more than simple conversation go on between Esther and himself.
“It came to me,” said Helmrune, his voice half filled with wonder and half with approving, “The Sword of Chance.”
“It could not have found a better recipient,” said Touchstone, “But a sword such Coinspinner…I would still argue caution in its use.”
Helmrune’s face became less animate, scorn mixing with the jealousy behind his eyes. “I believe I know enough about this sword too keep myself from harm, Master Fool,” he replied, and then shifted his gaze to Esther, his expression softening, and spoke to her, “With this blade, I could become someone. I could find a place to settle into, perhaps become a metal smith, and start a good life.” His eyes betrayed the final, unsaid phrase, with you.
Esther, catching what wasn’t said, glanced at Touchstone and then looked back at Helmrune, “Perhaps so, but I agree that you should consider its abilities further before acting. Touchstone is not wrong in urging caution.”
Surprise and hurt flickered across Helmrune’s face, quickly replaced by unmistakable anger. He narrowed his eyes at Touchstone and said “Perhaps if things were a little more…simpler, things would be for the better.” With that, he whirled about and stalked off.
After the young Lord had left, Esther turned to Touchstone, saying “I’ll talk with him after he calms down. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash on account of Coinspinner, and me.” The two said their goodbyes for the time being and retreated to the comfort of their own rooms.
Later, Touchstone encountered Esther in a hallway on his way to the kitchens. She had been to Helmrune’s room in order to talk with him, but found his door locked and he unresponsive to her attempts to enter. Upon visiting the kitchens, the young Fool learned from the head cook that Helmrune had entered earlier and taken food to his room in place of joining the Ginndems for dinner. Touchstone returned to his room full of unease at the continuation of events, and felt his worry deepen at the sight of a small, handwritten note on his bed.
Picking it up, he noticed that it was in Helmrune’s hand, and stated, simply, “Meet me on the drumlin hills outside of the Keep an hour after midday meal tomorrow. Come armed. Tell nothing to Esther. All will be settled.”
The young Fool heaved a sigh, it looked to be that this would be finished the way most conflicts are finished by foolish men; by the sword. While combat was not the solution that he would have liked, Touchstone had confidence in his ability to keep both himself and Helmrune out of most harm and subdue his opponent without bloodshed. Things would be settled in one way or another, and though he would not admit it to himself, the young Fool secretly relished the thought of ending the conflict quickly with steel; avoiding the long, tedious and uncomfortable process of bandying words, accustomed to such a thing as he was.
He slept.
To Be Continued in Chapter 6
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wow, big burst of creativity has got me through the initial drafts of the next two chapters of my Story of Swords. You will only get to see the first of them for the time being, as I wrote the second one (and am writing this) through a haze of fatigue. As such, here's chapter 5.
Chapter 5: Conflict
Touchstone’s gaze wandered toward the Keep, from which he saw a lone figure emerge in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until it and the sword it wore would confront him on the small hillock. The young Fool began to recall the past few weeks that had led up to this coming moment…
Touchstone and Esther were sitting side by side on the hearth of the great hall, their backs to the warmth of the dying fire. The winter was moving away from its most bitter, and they both had a large blanket thrown about them. They had been talking quietly about many things, their hands intertwined with each other under the warmth of the cloth. During lulls in the conversation, Esther would lean her head against Touchstone’s shoulder and he would rest his scruffy chin on the top of her head. Lady Ginndem bustled about the hall, making sure that every speck of dust was removed from the various tapestries, her watchful glances toward the young couple belying her real reason for lingering in the great room. Touchstone, catching her watchful gaze, was relieved to see the Lady smile approvingly every now and then, and he continued to talk without fear of reprobation.
The young man and woman had finished a spirited talk concerning the properties of medicinal herbs when Esther quieted and adopted a look of worry.
“What is it?” asked Touchstone.
“Well, it’s both you and Helmrune. I’m so glad we have become good friends over the last month, and I enjoy spending time with you and him. It’s flattering to have two young men vying for your attention," she paused, adopting a more pensive look, "but you both confuse me.”
“I know I have been less than straightforward with you,” admitted the young Fool, “But Helmrune’s intentions are easily seen. He’s quite taken with you.”
“I suppose, but he goes back and forth. I start to talk with him about this subject and that subject, to learn what he thinks and who he is, but I don’t learn very much. Other times he writes me poems and proclaims his love for me, but all I can do is to tell him that I need to know him better if I am to give him a similarly straight response.”
“A solid rock, that one,” Touchstone wryly commented. Esther smiled briefly, and then continued.
“With you, it’s the other way. I know so much about you, you’re almost like a brother to me. I feel comfortable talking of anything and everything with you. I do admit,” and she blushed slightly, squeezing his hand, “I enjoy being with you. But with you, I don’t really know what you want. You did finally tell me about your ring, and that much I know.”
“Oh, yes. That dramatic tale,” the young Fool said dryly, and felt the silver band encircling his finger, something he’d of late grown so used to as to forget about.
“But what do you want for the future?” she continued. “You like me well enough, but we don’t talk much of such things beyond that.”
Touchstone became more serious and sighed quietly. “I still am not too sure myself. As you say, I like you very much, and you fill a hole in me that has been empty for too long. I am content as I haven’t been in a long while, but I don’t think this is the end of my journey. I still have more things to do, things I need to return to and resolve. It will be a long while yet before my story has ended.”
They were quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only noise, and the occasional soft footstep of Lady Ginndem. He then continued, “But, until then, I would desire to stay with you, as it were: if you would have me and know that, eventually, I would go.”
Esther’s hand loosened in his. “I would, for the most part,” she replied “But I wonder if the pain of your eventual leaving would be lessened if we parted sooner.”
Her words echoed in Touchstone’s mind, stirring old memories. He let go of her hand and fingered his silver ring. “Perhaps it would be better,” he said, “I’ve not had such things go well before.” He turned to look at her and found her eyes full of concern.
“Her?” she said simply, and he understood who Esther was referring to.
“Yes” he replied, and started to look away, but found her hand cradling his cheek. He looked back into her eyes as she turned his face back towards her own. He drank deep of her green eyes as she drew his face towards hers, and for the moment let all care fall away as they shared a kiss. He could have spent eternity in such a comfort, but they were both startled by approaching footsteps.
They sheepishly broke away from each other and turned toward the noise. Touchstone was surprised to see not Lady Ginndem striding forward, as he expected, but the young Lord, carrying a sword and scabbard in his hand. The young Fool stared at the black hilt, wondering at first if Helmrune had taken Doomgiver from his room, but upon catching sight of the twin white dice upon the handle realized that Coinspinner had found its way to the Keep.
Helmrune’s eyes betrayed an undercurrent of jealousy as he approached, and Touchstone realized that the young Lord had seen more than simple conversation go on between Esther and himself.
“It came to me,” said Helmrune, his voice half filled with wonder and half with approving, “The Sword of Chance.”
“It could not have found a better recipient,” said Touchstone, “But a sword such Coinspinner…I would still argue caution in its use.”
Helmrune’s face became less animate, scorn mixing with the jealousy behind his eyes. “I believe I know enough about this sword too keep myself from harm, Master Fool,” he replied, and then shifted his gaze to Esther, his expression softening, and spoke to her, “With this blade, I could become someone. I could find a place to settle into, perhaps become a metal smith, and start a good life.” His eyes betrayed the final, unsaid phrase, with you.
Esther, catching what wasn’t said, glanced at Touchstone and then looked back at Helmrune, “Perhaps so, but I agree that you should consider its abilities further before acting. Touchstone is not wrong in urging caution.”
Surprise and hurt flickered across Helmrune’s face, quickly replaced by unmistakable anger. He narrowed his eyes at Touchstone and said “Perhaps if things were a little more…simpler, things would be for the better.” With that, he whirled about and stalked off.
After the young Lord had left, Esther turned to Touchstone, saying “I’ll talk with him after he calms down. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash on account of Coinspinner, and me.” The two said their goodbyes for the time being and retreated to the comfort of their own rooms.
Later, Touchstone encountered Esther in a hallway on his way to the kitchens. She had been to Helmrune’s room in order to talk with him, but found his door locked and he unresponsive to her attempts to enter. Upon visiting the kitchens, the young Fool learned from the head cook that Helmrune had entered earlier and taken food to his room in place of joining the Ginndems for dinner. Touchstone returned to his room full of unease at the continuation of events, and felt his worry deepen at the sight of a small, handwritten note on his bed.
Picking it up, he noticed that it was in Helmrune’s hand, and stated, simply, “Meet me on the drumlin hills outside of the Keep an hour after midday meal tomorrow. Come armed. Tell nothing to Esther. All will be settled.”
The young Fool heaved a sigh, it looked to be that this would be finished the way most conflicts are finished by foolish men; by the sword. While combat was not the solution that he would have liked, Touchstone had confidence in his ability to keep both himself and Helmrune out of most harm and subdue his opponent without bloodshed. Things would be settled in one way or another, and though he would not admit it to himself, the young Fool secretly relished the thought of ending the conflict quickly with steel; avoiding the long, tedious and uncomfortable process of bandying words, accustomed to such a thing as he was.
He slept.
To Be Continued in Chapter 6
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Cold Steel '07
Currently in Earphones: Crimson Tide soundtrack by Hans Zimmer
On the 6th a small contingent of UCD fencers, including myself, attended what appeared to be the first of a hopefully annual Fencing tournament held at the Santa Rosa Junior College, self-dubbed "Cold Steel" for it's occurrence during the bitter transition between December and January.
All in all, it was a good tournament: a non-league event with a small but fun showing and good times. What was somewhat unfortunate was that even though things should have gone quickly with the minimal attendance, some fencers gummed up the works by fencing more than one weapon. Now, usually this is taken in stride, and the fencers have to take the lumps with the good by being yanked back and forth between bouts with different weapons. However, when you only have a small amount of fencers in one weapon to begin with, and most of them are doing more than one of them, then things start to get annoying.
Case in point, we had 22 Epeeists in total for the whole tournament. That was all fine and dandy, but when you consider that only 5 or 6 of us were fencing Epee exclusively, then problems started to occur. The Epee pools started up, but we literally didn't have enough people available to do the pools as we're supposed to, which is in a pre-determined order such that people don't have to fence a bunch of bouts in a row. Now, this wasn't too much of a problem, we simply dis-regarded the order and worked with what we had. Even then, we could only get through 3-4 bouts before we had to wait for all the rest of us to get dis-entangled from their Foil pools. I literally had to go read a book and have a snack before things could continue.
To be fair, there were two Epee pools, and the one that I wasn't in was able to progress in a fairly orderly fashion and finish out in good time. But the pool I was in that should have taken no more than 30-45 minutes took at least 3 hours to finish. I realize that this was more a problem regarding the fencer's decisions and less the set up by the event coordinators, but I was miffed nonetheless.
Aside from that hiccup, the fencing went quite well. I did middling well in pools, going 2-4 and only getting thwacked by Billy Carson (a very nice fellow, by the way) and to a smaller extent by Andrew Kleinerman. I touched base with Robert Belanger, who's acquaintance I made at the Santa Cruz tournament, but he was in the other Epee pool and I didn't meet him in DE's.
In the DE's I first squared off with Brian Harness, who had narrowly beaten me 5-4 in the pools. I was surprised to take him with little difficulty, landing a square 10-6 and continuing on. My second DE was against Billy, and I planned on getting my ass handed to me, but to go down swinging anyway. Things started off pretty evenly, but he zoomed ahead to 8-(4 or 5, I can't remember my score) and things looked to be wrapping up. Keeping calm, I managed to make a comeback and snatch the victory out from under his nose, 10-9. I was extremely surprised to see that I'd instinctively stopped being sedentary and found chinks in Billy's defense, ending with a face shot that I'm not particularly proud to mention on account of my opponent being such a good sport.
Then came the mirror match DE; I went up against James M. Whenever we fence during practice, our matches are always close, but he usually ends up the winner by a small margin. When we began the DE he got a good lead on me, eventually culminating in 6-1, his favor. Buckling down, I pulled my points on par with his, matching his sweeping parries and wide arm shots with some very precise and delicate hand shots. In the end, he won 10-7, but it was a neat and well fought match, punctuated by the equal-opportunity and wry shouts of "Go, Davis!" and "Go, James!" from the team-mates.
I regret to say that I didn't catch as much of the Sabre pools and DE's as I would have liked, and as a result missed out on how Mr. Preston Thomas did. Toes was a good sport in coming along with us, but a screwed up back and only one set of Sabre gear had him pass it off to Amy Chi, who did fairly well, as I seem to recall. She may say differently, but she gave her opponents a run for their money, even being sick and unsure of herself. I'm anxious to see how she does in Berkeley, when she ISN'T feeling under the weather!
Some shout-outs to the novices; Will, Laura and Lizzy, who placed highly in the Newb Foil section. Also to the incomparable Mike Jumper, who whupped ass as usual in Sabre. Also of note was that the Epee semi-finals were dominated by UCD, with Me, James M., Chris Wild and Vinnie filling the slots. Vinnie placed first, James M. second, and Chris and I tied for third.
Anecdotes of note include watching the slow-motion train wreck that is Chris Wild, who even being the exceptional fencer that he is, does all three weapons and cramps up like a mother near the end of every tournament. He fenced Vinnie for the same position in the semifinals of both Foil and Epee, the former of which happened after the latter. Vinnie toned down his speed so as not to totally break Mr. Wild, but there were some fun touches and moments on the strip as the two teammates fenced.
The first was during the Foil match, in which Wild's movements were severely limited due to the cramping in his leading thigh muscle and sword arm. Vinnie charged in for some in-fighting, standing abreast with Wild for some close parries and behind-the-back ripostes. After a few clashes, however, Wild stopped, or they both reached a stalemate in that neither could get a clear shot. Then the both kinda paused and looked at each other, Wild clearly in pain and Vinnie concerned, and Vinnie reached his off-arm around and gave Wild a pat on the back, then retreated a few paces and snapped back into en guarde. Everyone laughed and Andrew Kleinerman (who was reffing) did a double take and scratched his head.
The second, and more fun anecdote, was a textbook example of what not to do on the strip. This was once again during the Foil match between Vinnie and Wild. They once again were infighting, and Vinnie had thought he scraped a point off on Wild's chest. No light had gone off, and the box was behind Vinnie and to his left. He pauses, turn around to his right, the long way around, to try and look at the box. Just as his eyes reach it, Wild thwaps him smartly on his exposed chest and Wild's light goes off. Cue uproarious laughter and and a hearty "AW CRAP!" from Vinnie as he realizes his juvenile mistake.
It's too bad this wasn't a league event, seeing as I did pretty well in it. I'm even getting a medal to boot! And now back to homework, for Monday is drawing nigh.
Enough, More Later.
- James
On the 6th a small contingent of UCD fencers, including myself, attended what appeared to be the first of a hopefully annual Fencing tournament held at the Santa Rosa Junior College, self-dubbed "Cold Steel" for it's occurrence during the bitter transition between December and January.
All in all, it was a good tournament: a non-league event with a small but fun showing and good times. What was somewhat unfortunate was that even though things should have gone quickly with the minimal attendance, some fencers gummed up the works by fencing more than one weapon. Now, usually this is taken in stride, and the fencers have to take the lumps with the good by being yanked back and forth between bouts with different weapons. However, when you only have a small amount of fencers in one weapon to begin with, and most of them are doing more than one of them, then things start to get annoying.
Case in point, we had 22 Epeeists in total for the whole tournament. That was all fine and dandy, but when you consider that only 5 or 6 of us were fencing Epee exclusively, then problems started to occur. The Epee pools started up, but we literally didn't have enough people available to do the pools as we're supposed to, which is in a pre-determined order such that people don't have to fence a bunch of bouts in a row. Now, this wasn't too much of a problem, we simply dis-regarded the order and worked with what we had. Even then, we could only get through 3-4 bouts before we had to wait for all the rest of us to get dis-entangled from their Foil pools. I literally had to go read a book and have a snack before things could continue.
To be fair, there were two Epee pools, and the one that I wasn't in was able to progress in a fairly orderly fashion and finish out in good time. But the pool I was in that should have taken no more than 30-45 minutes took at least 3 hours to finish. I realize that this was more a problem regarding the fencer's decisions and less the set up by the event coordinators, but I was miffed nonetheless.
Aside from that hiccup, the fencing went quite well. I did middling well in pools, going 2-4 and only getting thwacked by Billy Carson (a very nice fellow, by the way) and to a smaller extent by Andrew Kleinerman. I touched base with Robert Belanger, who's acquaintance I made at the Santa Cruz tournament, but he was in the other Epee pool and I didn't meet him in DE's.
In the DE's I first squared off with Brian Harness, who had narrowly beaten me 5-4 in the pools. I was surprised to take him with little difficulty, landing a square 10-6 and continuing on. My second DE was against Billy, and I planned on getting my ass handed to me, but to go down swinging anyway. Things started off pretty evenly, but he zoomed ahead to 8-(4 or 5, I can't remember my score) and things looked to be wrapping up. Keeping calm, I managed to make a comeback and snatch the victory out from under his nose, 10-9. I was extremely surprised to see that I'd instinctively stopped being sedentary and found chinks in Billy's defense, ending with a face shot that I'm not particularly proud to mention on account of my opponent being such a good sport.
Then came the mirror match DE; I went up against James M. Whenever we fence during practice, our matches are always close, but he usually ends up the winner by a small margin. When we began the DE he got a good lead on me, eventually culminating in 6-1, his favor. Buckling down, I pulled my points on par with his, matching his sweeping parries and wide arm shots with some very precise and delicate hand shots. In the end, he won 10-7, but it was a neat and well fought match, punctuated by the equal-opportunity and wry shouts of "Go, Davis!" and "Go, James!" from the team-mates.
I regret to say that I didn't catch as much of the Sabre pools and DE's as I would have liked, and as a result missed out on how Mr. Preston Thomas did. Toes was a good sport in coming along with us, but a screwed up back and only one set of Sabre gear had him pass it off to Amy Chi, who did fairly well, as I seem to recall. She may say differently, but she gave her opponents a run for their money, even being sick and unsure of herself. I'm anxious to see how she does in Berkeley, when she ISN'T feeling under the weather!
Some shout-outs to the novices; Will, Laura and Lizzy, who placed highly in the Newb Foil section. Also to the incomparable Mike Jumper, who whupped ass as usual in Sabre. Also of note was that the Epee semi-finals were dominated by UCD, with Me, James M., Chris Wild and Vinnie filling the slots. Vinnie placed first, James M. second, and Chris and I tied for third.
Anecdotes of note include watching the slow-motion train wreck that is Chris Wild, who even being the exceptional fencer that he is, does all three weapons and cramps up like a mother near the end of every tournament. He fenced Vinnie for the same position in the semifinals of both Foil and Epee, the former of which happened after the latter. Vinnie toned down his speed so as not to totally break Mr. Wild, but there were some fun touches and moments on the strip as the two teammates fenced.
The first was during the Foil match, in which Wild's movements were severely limited due to the cramping in his leading thigh muscle and sword arm. Vinnie charged in for some in-fighting, standing abreast with Wild for some close parries and behind-the-back ripostes. After a few clashes, however, Wild stopped, or they both reached a stalemate in that neither could get a clear shot. Then the both kinda paused and looked at each other, Wild clearly in pain and Vinnie concerned, and Vinnie reached his off-arm around and gave Wild a pat on the back, then retreated a few paces and snapped back into en guarde. Everyone laughed and Andrew Kleinerman (who was reffing) did a double take and scratched his head.
The second, and more fun anecdote, was a textbook example of what not to do on the strip. This was once again during the Foil match between Vinnie and Wild. They once again were infighting, and Vinnie had thought he scraped a point off on Wild's chest. No light had gone off, and the box was behind Vinnie and to his left. He pauses, turn around to his right, the long way around, to try and look at the box. Just as his eyes reach it, Wild thwaps him smartly on his exposed chest and Wild's light goes off. Cue uproarious laughter and and a hearty "AW CRAP!" from Vinnie as he realizes his juvenile mistake.
It's too bad this wasn't a league event, seeing as I did pretty well in it. I'm even getting a medal to boot! And now back to homework, for Monday is drawing nigh.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, January 04, 2007
"Good things never last, Mr. Denham"
Currently in Earphones: Imaginarium by Terry S. Taylor
And so begins a new quarter. Music 10, or Music Literature looks to be neat, but a lot of listening and concert going, not like that's any different from what I do anyway. Classics 1, or Early Greece and the Near East, will most likely be informative and interesting, but not as highly charged as Prof. Stem's Classics 3. I have yet to have my Senior Seminar, that's later on today, but Latin 110N: Ovid looks like fun and I'm auditing Prof. Stem's Cicero class.
I'm sorry to report, but A Story of Swords is now on indefinite hiatus. I'll endevour to finish it at least by the end of the year, but I've seriously been lacking the writing impetus for the past few weeks. You will see it get posted once I get another creative streak, but until then, don't hold your collective breaths.
Point of interest, I had a honest-to-goodness nightmare last night, and I can't remember when I last had one. It wasn't anything connected to any real life situation, but more like a "boo!" moment from a horror movie. The only problem was that after I was jolted awake from the surprise, I had a hard time getting my mind on some other, more calm subject so I could fall asleep again. I even remember reciting the Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear (which is a damn good piece of writing, lemme tell ya) in an effort to knock out. For the first few minutes, however, it was one of those horrible, fear-feeding-on-fear moments, where every little sound could be some creature waiting in the dark, even though it probably wasn't. My brain decided to take pity on me and gave me some nice dreams afterward, and all I'll say about those was that there was smooching involved that will probably never occur in real life. I think I'm feeling more down that the latter dream was only a dream, and less that I had a nightmare.
Fuck.
Enough, More Later.
- James
And so begins a new quarter. Music 10, or Music Literature looks to be neat, but a lot of listening and concert going, not like that's any different from what I do anyway. Classics 1, or Early Greece and the Near East, will most likely be informative and interesting, but not as highly charged as Prof. Stem's Classics 3. I have yet to have my Senior Seminar, that's later on today, but Latin 110N: Ovid looks like fun and I'm auditing Prof. Stem's Cicero class.
I'm sorry to report, but A Story of Swords is now on indefinite hiatus. I'll endevour to finish it at least by the end of the year, but I've seriously been lacking the writing impetus for the past few weeks. You will see it get posted once I get another creative streak, but until then, don't hold your collective breaths.
Point of interest, I had a honest-to-goodness nightmare last night, and I can't remember when I last had one. It wasn't anything connected to any real life situation, but more like a "boo!" moment from a horror movie. The only problem was that after I was jolted awake from the surprise, I had a hard time getting my mind on some other, more calm subject so I could fall asleep again. I even remember reciting the Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear (which is a damn good piece of writing, lemme tell ya) in an effort to knock out. For the first few minutes, however, it was one of those horrible, fear-feeding-on-fear moments, where every little sound could be some creature waiting in the dark, even though it probably wasn't. My brain decided to take pity on me and gave me some nice dreams afterward, and all I'll say about those was that there was smooching involved that will probably never occur in real life. I think I'm feeling more down that the latter dream was only a dream, and less that I had a nightmare.
Fuck.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Friday, December 29, 2006
A Note on Male/Female Friendships
Currently in Earphones: King Kong soundtrack by James Newton Howard
After reading the humorous and truthful article on maintaining Platonic relationships between male and female, found here, I came up with an additional observation, that kinda fits in with No. 10, but probably is in it's own catagory all together.
Males, by their nature, are competetive beings. In the reptilian portion of our brain, we know that it all narrows down to who is the biggest and best of us, because those guys (on a primal level) will be gettin' all the chicks, as it were.
Although we now have far more complex and varied criteria for instinctive mate selection, there's still some of that basic thinking underlying the whole thing.
Now, when it comes to inter-sexual friendship, we've also advanced, or at least I can say as much for the male portion. We guys can be friends with you ladies because we enjoy your company, and on some level or another, know that if we were to get serious things probably wouldn't work out. But, additionally we still have this idea that we're potential boyfriend material. Let's face it, we're friends because at some point or another we were hoping to be more than friends with you.
Again, guys are all different and depending on who he is, he could have that all behind him, or still be wishing for a lucky break, or what have you. No matter what, there will still be that grain in him, active or dormant, that wonders on such things.
With that in mind, we don't mind a whole heck of a lot when you start talking to us about your boyfriends/potentials/etc. because we want you to be happy. We're friends, also, because we care about you, and as No. 14 says in the article, we "fucking adore you."
However, do know that when you do talk to us of such things, you will always be triggering the primal spot that gets our competition going. Since we're friends with you, we won't let it get us down, but every time you mention how charming/cool/ripped/amazing another guy is to you, a little bit of us shouts out "What, and I'm not?"
Don't take it personally, because it's nothing against you, but our instinctual logic places us below the guy you're gushing about on the "fitness" ladder, and we start to wonder why it is that you're wasting your time with us, when this obviously superior guy is out there.
We know that you are friends with us for a reason, that we have redeeming qualities and that you like us all the same, but just know that our brains go off on that tangent if you start talking about the other guys. Once again, this is only the case in varying degrees, depending on the guy and the friendship, but I think it holds true in most cases.
As No. 10 says, "I am not your girl friend; I am your [...] man friend who officially hates all men that you date now or in the future."
Enough, More Later.
- James
After reading the humorous and truthful article on maintaining Platonic relationships between male and female, found here, I came up with an additional observation, that kinda fits in with No. 10, but probably is in it's own catagory all together.
Males, by their nature, are competetive beings. In the reptilian portion of our brain, we know that it all narrows down to who is the biggest and best of us, because those guys (on a primal level) will be gettin' all the chicks, as it were.
Although we now have far more complex and varied criteria for instinctive mate selection, there's still some of that basic thinking underlying the whole thing.
Now, when it comes to inter-sexual friendship, we've also advanced, or at least I can say as much for the male portion. We guys can be friends with you ladies because we enjoy your company, and on some level or another, know that if we were to get serious things probably wouldn't work out. But, additionally we still have this idea that we're potential boyfriend material. Let's face it, we're friends because at some point or another we were hoping to be more than friends with you.
Again, guys are all different and depending on who he is, he could have that all behind him, or still be wishing for a lucky break, or what have you. No matter what, there will still be that grain in him, active or dormant, that wonders on such things.
With that in mind, we don't mind a whole heck of a lot when you start talking to us about your boyfriends/potentials/etc. because we want you to be happy. We're friends, also, because we care about you, and as No. 14 says in the article, we "fucking adore you."
However, do know that when you do talk to us of such things, you will always be triggering the primal spot that gets our competition going. Since we're friends with you, we won't let it get us down, but every time you mention how charming/cool/ripped/amazing another guy is to you, a little bit of us shouts out "What, and I'm not?"
Don't take it personally, because it's nothing against you, but our instinctual logic places us below the guy you're gushing about on the "fitness" ladder, and we start to wonder why it is that you're wasting your time with us, when this obviously superior guy is out there.
We know that you are friends with us for a reason, that we have redeeming qualities and that you like us all the same, but just know that our brains go off on that tangent if you start talking about the other guys. Once again, this is only the case in varying degrees, depending on the guy and the friendship, but I think it holds true in most cases.
As No. 10 says, "I am not your girl friend; I am your [...] man friend who officially hates all men that you date now or in the future."
Enough, More Later.
- James
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Cruzin' right along (100th post!)
Currently in Earphones: "O Cecita de misero mortale" Oratorio by Luigi Rossi
The new beta version of Blogger is nifty in that it tells you upfront how many posts you have, and this one will be the 100th. Happy number...reaching...thing, then.
Christmas was a good haul, I now have a FRIKIN' HUGE external hard drive (500 gb) to store all of my musical goodness and then some. Also got recordings of the above mentioned (and hard to find) Oratorio and the Levin Completion of Mozart's Requiem. Some good books as well, the informative (but dry) "Latin Sexual Vocabulary" and two of Ian Fleming's 007 novels (Casino Royale and Thunderball).
Hope to hang out with some more old friends before I leave. I'm a little saddened that a few of my friends haven't returned my calls, and hope that I'll at least be able to catch up over the phone while I'm still in the bay.
I haven't touched my Story of Swords for a while; I seemed to have lost the drive after drafting the initial duel for the final chapter. Rest assured, my creative juices will flow again, but I'm caught between wanting to finish a first draft and wanting to fill all the holes in what I have. Plus, I've got a mess of presents to play with/listen to/read, so my mind probably won't be on the story for a few days yet. I'll see if I can't flesh out the next chapter in the next few days, but don't be surprised if I don't have it up until the end of the break.
In terms of my own emotional well being, I find that merely having opportunities is enough to lift me from my foolish stupor. It's good to know there are still those who are interested in you, or at least are willing to talk with you after extended periods of no communication. Suffice to say, I've equalized a bit since my last post, but I'm still unsure where all of this will lead.
As a final thought, I've realized how much of a double-edged sword being cryptic is. On one hand, one disguises their words in order to not be blunt, and to not communicate to hidden eyes and ears that which you don't want spread around. On the other hand, in ensuring that your message is obscure enough to be discarded by the masses, you run the risk of it being misinterpreted, confused or discarded by the party you intend it to be for.
In the end, however, it is usually as Virgil says, "Audentes Fortuna iuvat" - Fortune favors the brave.
Enough, More Later.
- James
The new beta version of Blogger is nifty in that it tells you upfront how many posts you have, and this one will be the 100th. Happy number...reaching...thing, then.
Christmas was a good haul, I now have a FRIKIN' HUGE external hard drive (500 gb) to store all of my musical goodness and then some. Also got recordings of the above mentioned (and hard to find) Oratorio and the Levin Completion of Mozart's Requiem. Some good books as well, the informative (but dry) "Latin Sexual Vocabulary" and two of Ian Fleming's 007 novels (Casino Royale and Thunderball).
Hope to hang out with some more old friends before I leave. I'm a little saddened that a few of my friends haven't returned my calls, and hope that I'll at least be able to catch up over the phone while I'm still in the bay.
I haven't touched my Story of Swords for a while; I seemed to have lost the drive after drafting the initial duel for the final chapter. Rest assured, my creative juices will flow again, but I'm caught between wanting to finish a first draft and wanting to fill all the holes in what I have. Plus, I've got a mess of presents to play with/listen to/read, so my mind probably won't be on the story for a few days yet. I'll see if I can't flesh out the next chapter in the next few days, but don't be surprised if I don't have it up until the end of the break.
In terms of my own emotional well being, I find that merely having opportunities is enough to lift me from my foolish stupor. It's good to know there are still those who are interested in you, or at least are willing to talk with you after extended periods of no communication. Suffice to say, I've equalized a bit since my last post, but I'm still unsure where all of this will lead.
As a final thought, I've realized how much of a double-edged sword being cryptic is. On one hand, one disguises their words in order to not be blunt, and to not communicate to hidden eyes and ears that which you don't want spread around. On the other hand, in ensuring that your message is obscure enough to be discarded by the masses, you run the risk of it being misinterpreted, confused or discarded by the party you intend it to be for.
In the end, however, it is usually as Virgil says, "Audentes Fortuna iuvat" - Fortune favors the brave.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Riddle of Steel: Why the hell is it between my ribs?
Currently in Earphones: Gone with Leaves and In the Chess Court by Tan Dun, from the Hero Soundtrack.
We're Sorry, you were unable to connect to James at 128.161.1.9
He is currently under maintainance and should be back up shortly, if more affairs of the heart don't keep knocking him down. Rest assured, we have initiated the "Tubthumping" protocol to keep him semi-functional when he is intermittantly on his feet, so when you are able to connect, he will be mostly all there.
We apologize for the inconveniance and ask that you try again in a few minutes/days/weeks/years, or whenever this whole mess is behind him.
P.S. - If you are a female friend or interested female, contact with James will most likely speed his recovery and keep him up and about for longer periods. We, his personality and endurance, have had a hard time of it since his hope chickened out.
Thanks again for your patience!
Enough, More Later.
- James
We're Sorry, you were unable to connect to James at 128.161.1.9
He is currently under maintainance and should be back up shortly, if more affairs of the heart don't keep knocking him down. Rest assured, we have initiated the "Tubthumping" protocol to keep him semi-functional when he is intermittantly on his feet, so when you are able to connect, he will be mostly all there.
We apologize for the inconveniance and ask that you try again in a few minutes/days/weeks/years, or whenever this whole mess is behind him.
P.S. - If you are a female friend or interested female, contact with James will most likely speed his recovery and keep him up and about for longer periods. We, his personality and endurance, have had a hard time of it since his hope chickened out.
Thanks again for your patience!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, December 14, 2006
A Story of Swords, Part 1 (Revised)
Currently in Earphones: "The Venture Departs" from the King Kong Soundtrack, composed by James Newton Howard.
Righty, then, here's a second go round of Chapter 1 of my Story of Swords. Let me know what you all think!
Chapter 1: Justice (Revised)
From his perch on the grassy knoll, Touchstone could see far over the rolling hills into the distance. It was the beginning of spring, the chill winter colds having gradually been driven away and replaced with a balmy warm. It felt good to finally sit outside in the cool morning air while watching the sun rise, after months of being cooped up in the keep. The recent freedom wasn’t going to last, he reflected, conflict had been slowly brewing almost since the snows began to fall, and he was no less involved in the culmination that would come to the surface later on in the day.
The young Fool was a good friend of Ginndem clan, in whose keep he had been resident for the past winter. Having lost a life in one of the principates farther south, he had fled north with a single possession. A Sword, looking to be exactly a meter long, its black hilt un-mistakable: The white circle embedded in the smooth black had been a comfort as he had traveled north, its simple design soothing in comparison to the life he left behind.
Touchstone now fingered the midnight hilt, the cool morning wind rustling through his brown hair as he remembered how it had come into his possession. During his flight those many months ago, he had come upon a magician and his apprentice, the former a dark and wiry man. He had worn a strip of cloth tied about his eyes, and it was the sword at his side that had taken the young Fool’s attention.
“Who’s there?” said magician, as Touchstone had approached the fire.
“I….seek safety,” The young Fool stammered, his voice raspy with disuse, “may I rest here?”
The magicians’ eyebrows met together in a frown over the strip of cloth, and he rested his hand lightly on the black hilt at his side. Touchstone, though too tired even to ready himself for combat, thought he saw the sword vibrate ever so slightly. He blinked, and the effect was gone. The frown disappeared from the wiry man’s forehead and he relaxed, “Come, boy, there’s room around the fire for another, and we have enough food for three, do we not, Lo-Yang?”
The other man nodded, and though suspicion still was evident on his face, he began filling a third wooden bowl with stew from the small cauldron they had on the fire. Handing it to Touchstone, the three sat equidistant from each other and ate.
The meal was carried on in silence, and Lo-Yang gradually relaxed as it became clear that the young Fool really was seeking only shelter and not conflict. As they finished, the blind magician turned to Touchstone.
“My name is Keyes. Normally I wouldn’t be so open, but the Sword of Justice here is amply named. Its reaction tells me you are in a bad way, and I don’t need Doomgiver here to tell me you mean us no harm.”
“I’m Touchstone,” said the young Fool, “But…Sword of Justice? What do you mean?”
Keyes scoffed, “You haven’t heard? After we told that loudmouthed Bard about our little misadventure I figured the whole country would be filled with talk of the Swords.” At Touchstone’s confused look, he continued, “Here is what has come to pass…”
He told the young fool of the Twelve Swords of power, forged by the Gods as a game amongst them, and how he and Lo-Yang had thwarted the divine use of them and how the blades had scattered across the world. He also told of how Doomgiver had protected him further after their adventure with the Gods and as his eyes healed; a result of his experimentation with it. Touchstone asked many questions and clarifications along the way, and Keyes became impressed with the young Fools attentiveness, becoming more talkative and relaxed as the conversation continued.
When the story was finished, Touchstone asked, “If Doomgiver deals in justice, would it ever work against the user if his or her intentions were less than savory?”
Keyes smiled, “An apt question, but one I’ve not yet tested. I do know, however, that it won’t protect you from acts of stupidity. Though it kept me safe if my intention was to travel without the use of my eyes, it wouldn’t save me if I intentionally tried to walk off a cliff.”
“Indeed, master,” said Lo-Yang, one side of his mouth curving wryly upward, “had I not been around your experimentation with the blade might have fallen rather short.”
Keyes’ smile twisted to mimic his apprentices now mischievous grin and, addressing Touchstone more than Lo-Yang, said, “I’m glad my apprentice has only recently decided to become thick-headed, otherwise my story might have ended sooner than that, say at the mercy of Mars in that forsaken cave.” Lo-Yang chuckled and Touchstone smiled in spite of himself.
“Stonecutter is simple enough,” said the young Fool, looking towards the two black-hilted swords strapped to Keyes’ load beast, “But the Tyrant’s Blade…it would seem that that should be destroyed as quickly as possible, or given into wiser hands.”
Keyes nodded, “My thoughts exactly. I don’t plan to possess that Sword for much longer.” He then stirred the fire with the toe of his boot, and continued, “But what of you, lad? What exactly is it that you’ve left behind?”
Touchstone became more somber, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t suppose I need to illustrate much when I say it was an affair of the heart.” The two men nodded in agreement, and the young Fool continued, “I lost something…someone…very dear to me. I don’t know if I will ever see her again. That element being gone, I had no real reason to stay where I was, and so you see me as I am now.”
“Such stories find their way into every man’s life,” said Lo-Yang, who then looked sheepish. “I would have been a Bard myself, if my Master hadn’t been the man he is. I’m afraid it was mostly my doing that the Song of Swords now exists.”
“Now that it is mentioned, I do recall hearing a verse of two of this Song of yours,” said the young Fool, eager to talk of other subjects, “I shatter swords and splinter spears, / None stands to Shieldbreaker…?”
“…My point’s is the fount of orphans’ tears, / My edge the widowmaker,” finished Lo-Yang, “Yes, that is the one.”
“And a particularly dangerous one, at that,” said Keyes, gruffly, “The Sword of Force is one to be reckoned with.”
“Could it destroy another Sword of Power?” asked Touchstone.
“In theory, yes, though once again we haven’t been able to experiment with it,” Keyes replied, and a thoughtful look began to cross his face, “but what do you think, boy? Which Swords pose the most threat, or the least?”
Touchstone thought for a moment, and then replied “Shieldbreaker, followed by Soulcutter and the Mindsword as the most dangerous. Shieldbreaker trumps all, while one could decimate many people with the Tyrants Blade or gain great power with the Sword of Glory. On the other hand, Stonecutter doesn’t have much of an effect on mortal mind or body, and Dragonslicer only works on those great beasts, so those two could be the least dangerous.”
Keyes leaned back, a satisfied smile growing on his face, “And what of Doomgiver?”
“Well, if it draws from Justice, then little would matter of its wielder. If the bearer were a good person, he could be in possession of the blade with little detriment, and if the bearer used it maliciously, I imagine it would turn back on him and deal Justice as it saw fit.”
Keyes nodded, and said, “Since that seems the case, it would matter little who was in possession of it. I’ve sensed you looking at this blade, lad, you like it?”
“I’ve loved swords since I was little,” Touchstone admitted, “And its power intrigues me.”
“Then perhaps you would like to have it,” Keyes concluded, and he held up a hand to quiet an objection coming from Lo-Yang, “You’ve got a good mind for this knowledge, and from what I’ve seen of you, you have good qualities enough for being the Swords bearer.”
Keyes undid the scabbard from his belt and held out the sword in both hands. Awestruck, Touchstone received it. When his hand touched the black hilt, he felt the slightest thrum travel through the blade, and a small part of him suddenly felt lighter.
“I imagine you’re now feeling a bit calmer,” said Keyes, “Doomgiver does indeed balance the pans. Though the extent of that power may yet be discovered, I believe it is safe in your hands.”
Belting the Sword to his side, Touchstone could only find a few words for the magician, “Thank you, for everything.”
Keyes bowed his head, and said enigmatically “May Demeter’s caution protect you.”
The sun had just started to crest a line of hills in the east when Touchstone said his last goodbyes to the two men. Without their company, his own situation had once again weighed heavy on his heart, but he had set out with new hope and the Sword at his side. After a week of traveling northward, he had reached the gates of Ginndem Keep.
To Be (eventually) Continued in Chapter 2 (Revised)
Enough, More Later.
- James
Righty, then, here's a second go round of Chapter 1 of my Story of Swords. Let me know what you all think!
Chapter 1: Justice (Revised)
From his perch on the grassy knoll, Touchstone could see far over the rolling hills into the distance. It was the beginning of spring, the chill winter colds having gradually been driven away and replaced with a balmy warm. It felt good to finally sit outside in the cool morning air while watching the sun rise, after months of being cooped up in the keep. The recent freedom wasn’t going to last, he reflected, conflict had been slowly brewing almost since the snows began to fall, and he was no less involved in the culmination that would come to the surface later on in the day.
The young Fool was a good friend of Ginndem clan, in whose keep he had been resident for the past winter. Having lost a life in one of the principates farther south, he had fled north with a single possession. A Sword, looking to be exactly a meter long, its black hilt un-mistakable: The white circle embedded in the smooth black had been a comfort as he had traveled north, its simple design soothing in comparison to the life he left behind.
Touchstone now fingered the midnight hilt, the cool morning wind rustling through his brown hair as he remembered how it had come into his possession. During his flight those many months ago, he had come upon a magician and his apprentice, the former a dark and wiry man. He had worn a strip of cloth tied about his eyes, and it was the sword at his side that had taken the young Fool’s attention.
“Who’s there?” said magician, as Touchstone had approached the fire.
“I….seek safety,” The young Fool stammered, his voice raspy with disuse, “may I rest here?”
The magicians’ eyebrows met together in a frown over the strip of cloth, and he rested his hand lightly on the black hilt at his side. Touchstone, though too tired even to ready himself for combat, thought he saw the sword vibrate ever so slightly. He blinked, and the effect was gone. The frown disappeared from the wiry man’s forehead and he relaxed, “Come, boy, there’s room around the fire for another, and we have enough food for three, do we not, Lo-Yang?”
The other man nodded, and though suspicion still was evident on his face, he began filling a third wooden bowl with stew from the small cauldron they had on the fire. Handing it to Touchstone, the three sat equidistant from each other and ate.
The meal was carried on in silence, and Lo-Yang gradually relaxed as it became clear that the young Fool really was seeking only shelter and not conflict. As they finished, the blind magician turned to Touchstone.
“My name is Keyes. Normally I wouldn’t be so open, but the Sword of Justice here is amply named. Its reaction tells me you are in a bad way, and I don’t need Doomgiver here to tell me you mean us no harm.”
“I’m Touchstone,” said the young Fool, “But…Sword of Justice? What do you mean?”
Keyes scoffed, “You haven’t heard? After we told that loudmouthed Bard about our little misadventure I figured the whole country would be filled with talk of the Swords.” At Touchstone’s confused look, he continued, “Here is what has come to pass…”
He told the young fool of the Twelve Swords of power, forged by the Gods as a game amongst them, and how he and Lo-Yang had thwarted the divine use of them and how the blades had scattered across the world. He also told of how Doomgiver had protected him further after their adventure with the Gods and as his eyes healed; a result of his experimentation with it. Touchstone asked many questions and clarifications along the way, and Keyes became impressed with the young Fools attentiveness, becoming more talkative and relaxed as the conversation continued.
When the story was finished, Touchstone asked, “If Doomgiver deals in justice, would it ever work against the user if his or her intentions were less than savory?”
Keyes smiled, “An apt question, but one I’ve not yet tested. I do know, however, that it won’t protect you from acts of stupidity. Though it kept me safe if my intention was to travel without the use of my eyes, it wouldn’t save me if I intentionally tried to walk off a cliff.”
“Indeed, master,” said Lo-Yang, one side of his mouth curving wryly upward, “had I not been around your experimentation with the blade might have fallen rather short.”
Keyes’ smile twisted to mimic his apprentices now mischievous grin and, addressing Touchstone more than Lo-Yang, said, “I’m glad my apprentice has only recently decided to become thick-headed, otherwise my story might have ended sooner than that, say at the mercy of Mars in that forsaken cave.” Lo-Yang chuckled and Touchstone smiled in spite of himself.
“Stonecutter is simple enough,” said the young Fool, looking towards the two black-hilted swords strapped to Keyes’ load beast, “But the Tyrant’s Blade…it would seem that that should be destroyed as quickly as possible, or given into wiser hands.”
Keyes nodded, “My thoughts exactly. I don’t plan to possess that Sword for much longer.” He then stirred the fire with the toe of his boot, and continued, “But what of you, lad? What exactly is it that you’ve left behind?”
Touchstone became more somber, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t suppose I need to illustrate much when I say it was an affair of the heart.” The two men nodded in agreement, and the young Fool continued, “I lost something…someone…very dear to me. I don’t know if I will ever see her again. That element being gone, I had no real reason to stay where I was, and so you see me as I am now.”
“Such stories find their way into every man’s life,” said Lo-Yang, who then looked sheepish. “I would have been a Bard myself, if my Master hadn’t been the man he is. I’m afraid it was mostly my doing that the Song of Swords now exists.”
“Now that it is mentioned, I do recall hearing a verse of two of this Song of yours,” said the young Fool, eager to talk of other subjects, “I shatter swords and splinter spears, / None stands to Shieldbreaker…?”
“…My point’s is the fount of orphans’ tears, / My edge the widowmaker,” finished Lo-Yang, “Yes, that is the one.”
“And a particularly dangerous one, at that,” said Keyes, gruffly, “The Sword of Force is one to be reckoned with.”
“Could it destroy another Sword of Power?” asked Touchstone.
“In theory, yes, though once again we haven’t been able to experiment with it,” Keyes replied, and a thoughtful look began to cross his face, “but what do you think, boy? Which Swords pose the most threat, or the least?”
Touchstone thought for a moment, and then replied “Shieldbreaker, followed by Soulcutter and the Mindsword as the most dangerous. Shieldbreaker trumps all, while one could decimate many people with the Tyrants Blade or gain great power with the Sword of Glory. On the other hand, Stonecutter doesn’t have much of an effect on mortal mind or body, and Dragonslicer only works on those great beasts, so those two could be the least dangerous.”
Keyes leaned back, a satisfied smile growing on his face, “And what of Doomgiver?”
“Well, if it draws from Justice, then little would matter of its wielder. If the bearer were a good person, he could be in possession of the blade with little detriment, and if the bearer used it maliciously, I imagine it would turn back on him and deal Justice as it saw fit.”
Keyes nodded, and said, “Since that seems the case, it would matter little who was in possession of it. I’ve sensed you looking at this blade, lad, you like it?”
“I’ve loved swords since I was little,” Touchstone admitted, “And its power intrigues me.”
“Then perhaps you would like to have it,” Keyes concluded, and he held up a hand to quiet an objection coming from Lo-Yang, “You’ve got a good mind for this knowledge, and from what I’ve seen of you, you have good qualities enough for being the Swords bearer.”
Keyes undid the scabbard from his belt and held out the sword in both hands. Awestruck, Touchstone received it. When his hand touched the black hilt, he felt the slightest thrum travel through the blade, and a small part of him suddenly felt lighter.
“I imagine you’re now feeling a bit calmer,” said Keyes, “Doomgiver does indeed balance the pans. Though the extent of that power may yet be discovered, I believe it is safe in your hands.”
Belting the Sword to his side, Touchstone could only find a few words for the magician, “Thank you, for everything.”
Keyes bowed his head, and said enigmatically “May Demeter’s caution protect you.”
The sun had just started to crest a line of hills in the east when Touchstone said his last goodbyes to the two men. Without their company, his own situation had once again weighed heavy on his heart, but he had set out with new hope and the Sword at his side. After a week of traveling northward, he had reached the gates of Ginndem Keep.
To Be (eventually) Continued in Chapter 2 (Revised)
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Finals, which I should be studying for...
Currently in Earphones: "Non e gran causa," "Dum pater familias" and "Lux optata claruit" from Sinners and Saints
Quick interim post during finals week, yo.
For those of you interested, I've got a one-two punch classics on Tuesday (Tuesday, Tuesday TUESDAY!!) of Classics 3 and Latin 111. Then Philosophy 21 on Weds, then Geo 2 on Saturday, of all things. I've got a fair-to-middlin' amount of studying for the first two under my belt, but I need to go through the rest of Martials epigrams and give my notes from Classics and second over. It would probably behoove me to at least glance at the review sheet for Philo, but I don't know if I'll get to it before Tuesday night.
Chapter 5 of A Story of Swords is on it's way, I've re-written the first chapter so it's more connected temporally and flows a bit better. It looks like the first completion of the story will be about 6 chapters long, but count on it growing by about a chapter or two. There's definitely going to be some gear shifts on the currently posted chapters as well once I get the final installment penned. The main thing that I feel the need to include is a clearer reason for the big altercation at the end, and I'm guessing all you smart people out there can figure out what's going to happen.
One last note concerning my tale, for all those wondering. This story is not my life, as it might seem. It is drawn from my life, in that I've picked and chosen certain facets and altered them to fit. I will come right out and say that our main character is mostly me, as if it isn't painfully obvious already. Every other character is bits and pieces of people I know, so the clever ones will probably be able to find similarities. Rest assured, none of this story has any resemblance to my life, and if it may have seemed so in the past, the story has fast overtaken any concurrent parallels smart people may be able to draw from it.
And that's enough of that, back to the books!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Quick interim post during finals week, yo.
For those of you interested, I've got a one-two punch classics on Tuesday (Tuesday, Tuesday TUESDAY!!) of Classics 3 and Latin 111. Then Philosophy 21 on Weds, then Geo 2 on Saturday, of all things. I've got a fair-to-middlin' amount of studying for the first two under my belt, but I need to go through the rest of Martials epigrams and give my notes from Classics and second over. It would probably behoove me to at least glance at the review sheet for Philo, but I don't know if I'll get to it before Tuesday night.
Chapter 5 of A Story of Swords is on it's way, I've re-written the first chapter so it's more connected temporally and flows a bit better. It looks like the first completion of the story will be about 6 chapters long, but count on it growing by about a chapter or two. There's definitely going to be some gear shifts on the currently posted chapters as well once I get the final installment penned. The main thing that I feel the need to include is a clearer reason for the big altercation at the end, and I'm guessing all you smart people out there can figure out what's going to happen.
One last note concerning my tale, for all those wondering. This story is not my life, as it might seem. It is drawn from my life, in that I've picked and chosen certain facets and altered them to fit. I will come right out and say that our main character is mostly me, as if it isn't painfully obvious already. Every other character is bits and pieces of people I know, so the clever ones will probably be able to find similarities. Rest assured, none of this story has any resemblance to my life, and if it may have seemed so in the past, the story has fast overtaken any concurrent parallels smart people may be able to draw from it.
And that's enough of that, back to the books!
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
Sunday, December 03, 2006
With our powers combined...
Currently in Earphones: "Stella Splendens" from Sinners and Saints, The Ultimate Medieval and Renaissance Music Collection (a pilgrim song from the Llibre Vermell)
A Quick thought before returning to my Latin Paper:
Last night we watched one of My movies, on Phil's TV, through Toe's DVD player, with James M's 5.1 sound system (and if it had been Sophia's couch that we were all sitting on, it would have been a whole house effort).
For the Baroque Ensemble: Noli tonicum pulsare!
Enough, More Later.
- James
A Quick thought before returning to my Latin Paper:
Last night we watched one of My movies, on Phil's TV, through Toe's DVD player, with James M's 5.1 sound system (and if it had been Sophia's couch that we were all sitting on, it would have been a whole house effort).
For the Baroque Ensemble: Noli tonicum pulsare!
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
Friday, November 17, 2006
Haec mala sunt, sed tu non meliora facis.
Currently in Earphones: Captain Blood Soundtrack by Erich Wolfgang Korngold
Alas, another interim post. I'm currently besieged by 3 papers (Philosophy, Classics and Latin) which has resulted in my dropping out of the Turkey Tourney. Hopefully I can finish the first and get started on the second this weekend, that is, when I'm not watching Casino Royale and making yummy food with my housemate, Sophia.
"A Story of Swords" is coming along, I'm partway into chapter 3 at the moment, but scholastic writing has to take precedent. Look for the next installment a week or two into December.
On the good news (yet somewhat poorly timed), a bunch of leisure items have collected in my room over the past week. A bunch of soundtracks must have all decided that after some crappy deliveries of previous items, they would arrive early and sequentially by day. In addition, Cindy is letting me borrow a bunch of fantasy novels, which are all turning out to be made of awesomeness. All of this would be excellent if I had more time to enjoy them, but as stated before, I've got a lot of academics on my plate at the moment.
That's all for now, tune in next time!
Enough. More later,
- James
Alas, another interim post. I'm currently besieged by 3 papers (Philosophy, Classics and Latin) which has resulted in my dropping out of the Turkey Tourney. Hopefully I can finish the first and get started on the second this weekend, that is, when I'm not watching Casino Royale and making yummy food with my housemate, Sophia.
"A Story of Swords" is coming along, I'm partway into chapter 3 at the moment, but scholastic writing has to take precedent. Look for the next installment a week or two into December.
On the good news (yet somewhat poorly timed), a bunch of leisure items have collected in my room over the past week. A bunch of soundtracks must have all decided that after some crappy deliveries of previous items, they would arrive early and sequentially by day. In addition, Cindy is letting me borrow a bunch of fantasy novels, which are all turning out to be made of awesomeness. All of this would be excellent if I had more time to enjoy them, but as stated before, I've got a lot of academics on my plate at the moment.
That's all for now, tune in next time!
Enough. More later,
- James
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