Quintessentially Quilly

Welcome to Three Word Thursday #56. 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:

• curglaff, n. the shock one feels when plunging into cold water
• auriferous, adj.  gold-bearing; a stone bearing gold
• heimish, adj. Warm and comfortable; homey; folksy

The story in full.

From episode #55:

Vernal cringed. He was the page, yet time and time again Evaard had done menial chores without complaint. Now here he was acting like a panjandrum and Evaard was about to wait on him. Vernal tossed his bedroll aside and stepped toward the fire. “I will serve,” he said. “It is my job.”

Evaard and Chevall exchanged knowing looks behind Vernal’s back. Sometimes kindness is a more effective reprimand than any jeremiad ever could be.

Bath Time

While Vernal dished out steaming bowls of trail soup and ripped a loaf of bread into dipping-sized chunks, Evaard propped Fencil up and Chevall ladeled the boy full of woodwort tea. “That ought to stop the pain and break the fever,” Chevall said. Then he rolled up Fencil’s pant leg and smeared a thick glob of woodwort paste over the boy’s wound, binding it securely with one of Vernal’s enchanted bandages.

Chevall, Evvard and Vernal ate in silence, each more interested in the hot soup than conversation. Only when they were sopping the last of the soup from the bottom of their bowls with the last of the bread did Evaard speak. “Who stands first watch?”

“Sleep.” Troga’s voice sounded in all of their heads. “I will watch for the first half of the night and Threfel will watch for the second half.”

The tired warriors didn’t need any convincing. They curled into their heimish bedrolls and went soundly to sleep.

Vernal was the first to wake. He stirred up the coals in the firepit and added kindling, then he grabbed the kettle and headed for the river. Troga was curled up near the entrance to their willow tree cave. She opened one eye and snorted at Vernal as he passed. He waved at her but didn’t stop to speak.

It was a beautiful morning. Sunrise highlighted the mountain tops in radiant pink. The air was crisp and clean and the birds sang joyously. Vernal wondered how such a world could have so much evil in it.

It took him only moments to reach the river. He paused on the embankment and looked at the water sparkling silver in the early morning sunlight. Suddenly he felt the urge for a bath. Surely if he was quick, Evaard and Chevall wouldn’t miss him. Vernal stepped from the path into the bushes and quickly shed his clothes, then he plunged into the river.

The curglaff of the water left Vernal gasping for breath. It had looked inviting but was icy cold. Vernal hurriedly performed his ablutions, scrubbing his body as best he could with his bare hands. He bravely plunged his head intot he frigid water and vigorously scrubbed his hair with his fingers as well.

Vernal was in and out of the water within minutes. He stood on the bank rubbing the water from his body with his bare hands and shivering. He couldn’t wait to get into his clothes and out of the bushes. Perhaps the morning sunshine, even though it was weak, would help chase the chill away.

While struggling to don his pants over wet skin, Vernal lost his balance and crashed to the ground. He narrowly missed bashing his face on a rock bigger than his head. Vernal eyed the sparkling white rock and realized he was looking at a lump of quartz shot through with gold. The auriferous stone was almost as wonderful as dragon’s gold — more wonderful — he wouldn’t die for taking this.   But how would he get it home?

Home? How would he even get it back to the willow cave?

Vernal finished securing his pants, stomped into his boots, and fashioned a sling from his tunic, tying the rock to his stomach. Then he filled the tea kettle with water and hurried back to the shelter.

~*~

The 3WT #57 words will be:  it’s bedtime.  Ask me tomorrow!

Got it? Good! In that case: Your story is due on: July 1st, 2010

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