Quintessentially Quilly

Welcome to Three Word Thursday #53. Please join us in our weekly romp as we try to rescue lost and forgotten words from the dusty halls of antiquity. If you enjoy reading my story, leave a comment then click on the names of the other players and go see how they used these bygone words. You’ll be entertained (and possibly educated) all at once.

The Words:

• jejune, adj. lacking nutritive value; devoid of significance or interest
• gawp, v. look with amazement; look stupidly
• roil, v. to stir up, make cloudy, disturb, rile

The story in full.

From episode #53:

“I thought that the tradgematopolist was in league with the Mage Warriors,” Chevall said, “But if what you say is true, then he must have double-crossed them.”

“Aye, and he’ll die for that!” Vernal roared, struggling to be free. Evaard leaned on him a bit harder.

“What is this?” Troga’s soft mind-speak was concerned. She stepped further into the shelter, sniffing at Vernal.

“Careful now,” Cheval said. “A Mage Warrior has possessed him.”

“In that case,” Troga responded. “We must perform a delenda.”

~*~

“A delenda?” Chevall said.  “How?  It’s not like we can restore Fronesk to life.  Death is very hard to erase.”

“Ah,” Troga said, “But we do not have to erase his death.  We have only to erase his possession of Vernal.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Evaard asked.

“We simply have to kill him,” Troga said.  She leaped forward, her massive mouth gaping wide. Her shoulder hit Chevall and knocked him backward, out of the cave.  She shoved Evaard aside with her snout.  He tripped over the packs and tumbled to the floor.

“No!”  Vernal screamed.  Troga’s teeth glittered with saliva as they snapped shut around him.  Vernal fainted.

Troga dipped her head, opened her mouth and rolled Vernal gently off her tongue.  Evaard climbed to his feet and Chevall re-entered the cave.

“Did it work?”  Evaard asked.

“We won’t know until the boy wakes.”  Troga answered in thought speak.

“That was close,” Chevall said.  “I’d drawn my sword before you told me it was a bluff.”

“Well, I had to wait until the boy fainted,” Troga responded.  “He had to think it was real. Hopefully neither he nor Fronsek are aware that dragons find humans quite jejune.  Pigs are cleaner and have much more flavor.”

Chevall or Evaard exchanged incredulous glances.  “Pigs are cleaner?”  Evaard repeated in disbelief.

“Yes,” Troga explained.  “They don’t insist in filling their bodies with alcohol and they never lather their skins with perfumes and soaps.”

“But pigs roil in offal and mud!”  Evaard exclaimed.  “They cover themselves in it!”

Troga nodded her massive head.  “Yes.  Delicious stuff.  Good for the digestive tract.”

Speechless, the two Knights stared at the dragon.

“Well don’t just gawp,” she said.  “Wake the boy.”

Evaard splashed a bit of water on Vernal’s face.  He shook his head, opened his eyes, then bolted upright and scrambled backward, away from Troga.  “You tried to kill me!”  He yelled.

“No, only frighten you,” Troga said.  “It was necessary I am afraid.”

Chevall pointed his sword at the boy, “Who are you?”

Vernal looked at him in confusion.  “I am me,” he said.  “Same as I always was.”  Then his eyes widened.  He sat up straight, counted his fingers, wiggled his toes, then turned his head this way and that.  Finally he smiled.  “I am me,” he said.  “I am me, and nobody else!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Evaard said.  He handed Vernal a sword, then turned away to straighten the packs.  “I’ve spilled everything out here,” he said.  “Come help me clean it up so Chevall can make the potion for Fencil.”

Vernal scrambled to his feet and began digging through the items from the pack.  “I’ll help until we find my clean clothes,” he said.  “I’m soaked in dragon spit!”

Troga’s laughter sounded in their heads.  “Proof there is no Mage Warrior in you.  He would be licking it up.”

Vernal gagged and started peeling out of his clothes.  “Disgusting!”

“What I am wondering,” Cheval said, “is what happened to Fronesk?”

“A Mage Warrior’s soul is not his own,” Troga answered.  “He swears it over to Legion, the high lord of the Mage Warriors.  Any soul free of a body returns to Legion.”

“So this Legion, the high lord, he is like the king of the Mage Warriors?”  Vernal asked as he pulled a clean tunic over his head.

“No,” Troga answered.  “He is more of what humans would call a god.”

~*~

The 3WT #55 words will be: added tomorrow.  It’s bedtime.

Got it? Good! In that case: Your story is due on: June 3rd, 2010
Enjoy!

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