Gosh Darn It!

 

More Super7 (ReAction) action figure temptation.

Thrand (Part Five)

 

The morning had well begun before Thrand finally left his apartments over the High Courts. He was now fully dressed in his ceremonial robes, as grey as dust and padded at the shoulders with leather spaulders engraved with Morgish runes, to signify the burden of the Law. A cloud of clerks and lesser judges began to carefully and casually buzz around him, so as to be near if he had any orders to give or indeed questions that they might answer. The notice of the Chief Justice at this crucial time might be just the little push one’s career needed to move things along a bit.

Thrand studiously ignored them. He knew that by now the news of his attack would have spread throughout the gossipy Courts. Will there be a new Chief Justice as well as a new King, was the question. He determined that he would give no sign of weakness, simply to confound them, though he was leaning more heavily on his polished black staff of office than usual. Not too obviously, he hoped. He liked to play things enigmatically. He grunted in quiet amusement as he went out the Great Doors and heard the whispers of speculation starting up behind him like a soft but rising wind.

Once outside two armored guards joined him promptly, grim and serious senior officers of the City Watch. The fat Morg ignored them, taking them as a matter of course. No one was to impede him on his way to the White Tower; no doubt even now there would be candidates for the throne or their agents waiting to waylay him to try to gain his attention or begin influencing him.

He kept his eyes fixed on the street ahead of him and stubbornly closed his ears to any cries from the crowd that was already gathering to either side, though it parted respectfully in front of him. Oh, why hadn’t he ordered a palanquin to carry him to the castle? He was already sweating in the warm morning air, beads of perspiration trickling down his graying beard. He just had to prove how well he was!  

Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the Courts to the Tower, and once there Thrand was swallowed up by cold stone corridors which hadn’t even started warming up at this hour. Halfway to the throne room he was allowed to sit a while with other courtiers, both human and Morg, awaiting their own visitation. A minor herald went forward to announce his arrival. The bench, as it received his grateful weight, creaked warningly, and heads were automatically turned. Thrand ignored them stoically. He didn’t give a mudhen’s fart.

All too soon (for him) the two official King’s Heralds arrived and indicated that he should follow them. One was an elderly man of about seventy, who walked stiffly but proudly erect. The other was a Morg, just coming into his prime, who glanced over at the man now and then in concern. It was looking to be, after all, a long day. They delivered Thrand into the throne room, announced him formally, then withdrew behind the doors and stood again at attention.

“You doing all right there, Wes?” the Morg murmured to his companion.

”Yes.” The other caught a raspy breath. “But the old order changes, doesn’t it, Teq? Even for kings. You’ll be training up a new boy any time now, I reckon.”

“Mog forbid, Wes. Mog forbid.”

Notes

A spauldor is a piece of armor covering the shoulder, similar to but simpler than a pauldron. It was worn on both Roman and medieval armor. Gladiators wore them, and I suppose you could say a court of law is in many ways an arena. I must confess that this detail of dress was more or less inspired by Planet of the Apes.

I was surprised but pleased to find out that Teq and Wesmer (Wes) were making an appearance in this story as well. They were not in my notes when I began writing. They began way back in Thron, the first new ‘Tale of the Morgs’ I wrote when I took up that old Ortha mythos again, and have appeared now and then when the stories are set at Court.

As a human, Wesmer has of course aged much faster than the Morg, Teq; this has been one of the melancholy facts of the relationships of the races whenever they intermingle. It’s probably been a factor in keeping them largely separate over the years.  An analogy, I suppose, though not of course complete, would be our friendships with pets.

A sort of theme seems to be emerging that I hadn’t completely considered: youth and age, health (life) and death, and change in general. This will particularly be emphasized by a new character I have yet to introduce.

I began writing at 1 AM and more or less finished at 4 AM.

The Lord of the Rings: The Palantir (Part One)

 

The Tale

The sun is sinking as Theoden and his men and the members of the Fellowship ride away. Merry rides behind Gandalf and Pippin behind Aragorn. The Ents are standing in long rows at the Gate, arms uplifted but quiet as statues. After a while the hobbits look back and see Treebeard standing like an old stump in the distance, and they think of their first meeting on the ledge at the border of Fangorn. When they pass the Pillar of the White Hand they find the Hand has been destroyed by the Ents; Gandalf says they pay attention to the details.

After a while, Merry asks if they’ll be riding long. As a ‘small rag-tag dangling behind’ the wizard, he would like to stop riding and lie down.

So, you heard that sneer, says Gandalf. Don’t worry; Saruman was probably paying more attention to the hobbits than to anyone else. Who are they, how did they get there, how did they escape the Orcs, are the ‘little riddles’ that occupy his mind. [He doesn’t say so, but I imagine Saruman is also wondering if they have - or had – the Ring]. If you want, you can feel honored by that.

Merry says it’s more an honor to dangle behind Gandalf; it puts him in a good position to ask questions. Are they going to ride all night?

Gandalf laughs. ‘All wizards should have a hobbit or two in their care,’ to teach them what care really means. They will gently ride a few hours until they reach the end of the valley, and then camp. The next day, instead of riding straight to the King’s hall of Edoras, they will go to Dunharrow by paths among the hills; no-one will move openly over the fields by day except one or two by necessity.

‘Nothing or a double helping is your way!’ says Merry. But what is this Helm’s Deep that he’s been hearing about? The hobbit doesn’t really understand this land. Gandalf says he’d better learn, but it’s not the wizard who’ll be educating him. He’s got too much to think about. Merry says he’ll tackle Aragorn when they camp. But why the secrecy of movement. Didn’t they win the battle?

Yes, they did, but that only increases their danger. The Eye of Barad-dur will be looking towards the Wizard’s Vale and Rohan. ‘The less it sees the better.’

They ride on through a clear chill night until they reach the wide plains and turn off the highway onto the ‘sweet upland turf’ again. At about 10 o’clock they make camp in a glen with thick, sheltering thornbushes, and set up fires by a tall, ancient hawthorn. All around them are signs of the coming spring. Two guards are set to keep watch. The hobbits lay on a pile of bracken by themselves. Merry is sleepy, but Pippin is restless, tossing and turning.

Merry finally asks him what’s wrong, and Pippin says he’s just uncomfortable. How long has it been since they slept in a real bed? Well, Lorien, says Merry, but Pippin says in real bed in a real bedroom. Rivendell, then. But Merry is so tired he could sleep anywhere.

But Pippin is getting closer to what is really bothering him. Did Merry get anything out of Gandalf? Merry says Pippin was riding right next to them, and they weren’t mumbling; he heard everything they were saying. But if he wants to, he can ride with Gandalf tomorrow, to ask any questions he wants. Pippin agrees, but Gandalf is still being rather ‘close’ – not being open about everything, just as he’s always been.

Merry wakes up a little at that and wonders what’s biting Pippin. Gandalf has changed, but they haven’t had much chance to observe it. He seems both merrier and more solemn than before. He has been enhanced. He is the White now, and Saruman had to come to heel before him.

If he’s changed, Pippin responds, he’s become even less communicative than before. ‘That – glass ball, now.’ Now we’re coming to the crux of Pippin’s restlessness. Gandalf seemed happy to get it, and to guess something about it. But it was Pippin who rescued it from rolling into a pool. The wizard just took it away. ‘It felt so very heavy,’ he adds quietly, as if he were thinking to himself.

So that’s it. Merry reminds him of Gildor’s saying, ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.’ Pippin retorts that all they’ve been doing for the past few months has been meddling with wizards. He wants some information as well as danger. He wants to look at the ball.

Merry asks if this is the time? They need to sleep! He’s just as curious as Pippin, but it can wait until tomorrow. Pippin says there’s no harm in talking about it: he can’t get the stone anyway, with Gandalf sitting on it like a hen on an egg. But it doesn’t help that Merry just tells him to go to sleep.

What else could I say? Asks Merry. Tomorrow he’ll help Pippin with his ‘wizard-wheedling’. ‘But I can’t keep awake any longer. If I yawn any more, I shall split at the ears. Good night!’

Bits and Bobs

I don’t have much to say about this passage, and I couldn’t find any illustrations that fit it. Never of Merry riding behind Gandalf, but plenty of Pippin in front of him, from later. Nothing of Merry and Pippin in the camp.

Pippin is suffering from several symptoms of temptation, in some ways not unlike the attractions of the Ring itself. You might say that touching it has given him ‘itchy fingers’. There it might have stayed, but his curiosity has also made him start obsessing over it in his mind. He’s begun to stake claims on the ball: he picked it up, he saved it, and Gandalf just took it away with hardly a word. Surely, he has a right to at least look at it. What harm could it be? He deserves an answer!

I suppose the Palantir, while not actually evil, exerts a sort of fascination that all objects of power have, even (or perhaps especially) if they are not understood.

Just looking at this section of this copy of the book I notice that it has more than the usual ‘chili marks’ that aging books get. Our family calls them ‘chili marks’ or ‘chili stains’ because of their resemblance to actual blots of chili we would sometimes make in our books while eating in our more carefree days.

Just a Note

 

I will be posting a bit more on LOTR later in the day; right now I'm a little tuckered. In the meanwhile, enjoy this Ygor (Son of Frankenstein) action figure from ReAction.

Out of the Toybox (12): Action Accessories

 As one might imagine, after getting nearly fifty years of action figures, the accessories (weapons, props, and so on) have piled up. Here are most of them, I believe. I do know that there is at least a large plastic card file box full of ST:TNG things. And a container Kameron used to call 'The Science Box' with machine-like items and fancy guns, and at least one bin of 'backgrounds' and bases.

Axes, Hammers, Clubs, Maces, Morning Stars

Books and Pipes

Bows, Arrows, and Odd Weapons

Food.

Furniture and Appointments.

Kenny's LOTR Stuff.

Original LOTR Stuff.

Staffs, Scythes, Brooms, and Shovels

Shields, Helmets, Armor, and Hats

Simpson Stuff.

Oddities (Harps, Skulls, Umbrellas, (and a Bag of Cats and Small Critters)

Swords, Knives, Keyblades

They're all kept in a variety of containers. The main body is in two three-shelved stacking plastic dressers (which I bought for the purpose), but there is also an old Christmas popcorn tin, a shelf in the Tolkien Shrine, a couple of plastic 'tackle boxes', and an old leather case that used to hold poker chips. I can identify where most of the items came from, and there are quite a few tales attached to some of them (like the Cri-Kee Cage from Mulan that Kaitlyn was so fascinated with).

Thrand (Part Four)

 

                                                        Poignard (sans Flange)

As she seemed to fall deeper and deeper into a trance, Thrand had an opportunity to examine her more closely. For one so famous and revered, she dressed very plainly. A single-piece linen shift cinched twice around the waist with a smooth cord, from which hung a thin pointed poignard with a strange sharp hooked flange halfway up the blade. Her golden moon seemed to be her only sign of wealth and status, and it was not much larger than an ordinary coin.

He had never had a chance to peruse a Wose so closely before, as far as he knew. They tended to avoid cities when they could, preferring the forests and the grassland. There was something about the smells. It was said they had a sense of smell keener even than wolves or the big cats. Thrand supposed that accounted for the sniffing. “Smelling if I’m going rotten,” he thought.

There was another well-known mark that set Woses apart. He looked down and was not surprised to see that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. A Wose seldom did, except in utmost necessity; something about drawing power from the earth, or some such nonsense. What was unusual to see were her long, rather prehensile toes, immaculately kept, but easily twice as long as a Human’s.

Thrand vaguely recalled there was some sort of talk about this lady – Lady Melniar, his idle brain, usually engaged with legal maunderings, finally supplied her name; pretty presumptous to call her after the Yorn of the moon, he thought - and her relationship with Koppa the wizard. Rather unorthodox; he was Human and she was Wose. They had been companions on the Goldfire quest, along with Taryn. What they did was their own business, of course, but as a wizard Koppa would be aging very slowly, and the lady before him was, while well-preserved, obviously headed for the back door of life. He wondered how that was working out for them.

His attention wandered up from her toes, and with a jump he saw her looking at him with clear grey eyes. She had manifestly come out of her trance and seemed done with her examination. He did feel much better; the numbness and the pain had receded from his side. Had he just been panicking?

He would have blushed, if Morgs could. Under her knowing gaze he wondered if, somehow, she knew what he had been thinking.

“Well?” he barked gruffly, to cover his embarrassment.

The healer withdrew her hands and folded them primly, face serious, almost frowning.

“Prepare yourself, Chief Justice, to hear what I have to say.” There was a long pause. Thrand squirmed in anticipation. 

“You are fat.” She smiled faintly as if to soften the blow.

His eyes narrowed. He was not smiling.

“I know I’m fat,” he snapped. “I don’t need any mystical flummery to tell me that.”

“You may know it, but you do not realize it.” Her voice was serene. “If you want to reach your two hundred and fiftieth year, you are going to have to make some changes in your life. You have survived a heart attack in the past, yes, but you have not had a heart attack this time. A narrowed artery was not carrying blood to the heart. I have eased that with my ‘flummery’,” her eyes crinkled slightly, “but if you go on as you have, you will have another heart attack, and it may be fatal. You should feel better now for a while after my ministrations, but do not let that lull you into indifference.”

Thrand groaned.

“You’re not going to advise me to some diet of bark and twigs, like my other doctors, are you?”

“Nothing so drastic. But you are eating far too much meat and too little green stuff. Keep your meat but reduce the serving to a third of its size; make the other two thirds greens. No root vegetables except onions and garlic, and nothing made from grains. Use cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, and cayenne pepper as seasonings, but little salt or sugar.

“You are too sedentary,” she continued. “You should walk around the Inner Circle of the City twice a day, morning and evening. When that grows easy, move to the Outer Circle. When you are back to making once a day, you will know you are in a balanced state.”

“I have a sedentary but important job,” Thrand grumbled, “and little time to spare for wandering around …”

“Then make time,” she broke in firmly. “Even at your level of state, you should do your job to help you live, not live to do your job. And if you go on thus, you will be doing neither, and that sooner rather than later.”

The Morg sat quietly on the edge of the creaking bed, considering.

“And those are your orders, eh?”

“No, that is my advice.” She smoothed her dress briskly. “You owe me nothing for that. I shall be leaving soon to return to my own country. I will not be here to hover over you like a displeased schoolteacher. Your life is in your keeping, not mine. Now I must go and prepare for my departure.” She started to turn.

“Not staying for the funeral, Mistress Melniar?” Thrand asked quickly, as he pulled his robe together against the morning chill. The windows were starting to brighten with the rising sun. The Wose healer paused a moment but did not turn back.

“I have said my goodbyes to Taryn,” she said quietly. “He is on his journey now, and I must go on mine.” Then she was gone.

Notes

I spent some time early last Saturday morning writing rather fulsome notes on this section. Some of what I wrote does not appear here, but as it turned out it needed very little adaptation to get it to the state it is in now. I did nothing on Sunday, both because I have a loose rule about doing work then, as well as being exhausted from my trip to church and back. I should have taken Melniar's advice a lot sooner, myself. I was up at 5 AM this morning, and started getting it into shape.

I've probably done more 'world-building' about Woses here than I ever have before. I have a drawing of 'Wosehome' that I made years ago; it might have made a good illustration for this bit, but I never copied it into my computer files. I'm not sure about a lot of details from the original Goldfire, even though I transcribed it only about five years ago, but I'm going on the assumption that Melniar is a full Wose, while her adopted brother Jorrin was human. I was never completely happy with the name Jorrin; too close to Taryn. I do remember a story (by John? Or me?) of an ancient Koppa being placed in a modern day hospital, awakening to see the moon, and calling out "Melniar! Oh, my Melniar!" Which assumed that Ortha was Earth in some distant age of the past, I guess. Well, maybe in a parallel universe perhaps.

A Few Artifacts of Memory

 

For some reason we had two copies of that Black Beauty book, and no-one ever read either of them. I remember it being on the old metal shelf inside the 'Little Hoofer' closet for ages. That was the version of Authors cards we had in McQueeney Elementary. Mike had that shark magazine during the great Jaws craze. That was an alternate Scholastic Books version of The Jungle Book I saw in McQueeney in one of the teachers' classroom libraries. We got that War of the Worlds at a garage sale; I believe it was nominally John's. And The Monster at the End of This Book was John's in the 2nd Grade. Just dusting off some old memories.

Onto the Wish List: A Positive ReAction

 

Captain Picard, dressed as he was in the ST:TNG episode featuring Moriarty. He could double for Patrick Stewart in his role as Scrooge in The Christmas Carol. I love ReAction figures; I wish I had lots more of them! In fact, I wish I had this Vincent Price, which also lately came to my attention:

Out of the Toybox (11 1/2): And the Rest

Bowmarc

Deeth

Dex

Grimsword

Hawkler

Figures I never got or even ever saw in real life. I have no idea how rare these are, or even if they were ever produced in great numbers. Looking at them now I am reminded of one of the features that always bugged me about these figures: their bilateral asymmetry. No right arm is ever the same design as the left arm, no right leg the same design of the left leg. For some reason it offends my sense of design. And the names! The best you can say about them is that they are stereotypical D&D names. No mythopoeia in them at all.

Out of the Toybox (11): Roll for Initiative

 

Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, from TSR. I got mine back in the mid-Eighties. They've been supplemented since by a batch sent by Kenny, which included a Mercion the Cleric (who I never had before) and that brown-bearded repaint of Elkhorn the Dwarf.

Includes: Elkhorn (the Dwarf), Kelek (the Evil Wizard), Mandoom (some kind of Magic Giant), Peralay (the 'Melf'), Mercion (the Cleric) Mettaflame (the Flame Troll), Northlord (the Great Barbarian), Ogre King (the Self-Explanatory),  Ringlerun (the Good Wizard), Strongheart (the Paladin/Knight), Warduke (the Evil Warrior), Zarak (the Half-Orc Assassin), and Zorgar (the Brute/Thug). 

 I used to have what they call a Young Male Titan, but he don't move no more.

Out of the Toybox (10): A Random Batch of Beasts

 

These large figures just happen to occupy the same bin as the dragons. For the record they are a Mastage from Stargate, a couple of neoGodzillas of different sizes, Motu (purple eagle) from Masters of the Universe, Redlen (evil tree) from Inhumanoids, two King Ghidorah figures, a polar bear in armor (Iorek Byrnison?) from The Golden Compass, a Komodo Rhino from The Last Airbender, Sebek the Crocodile King from McFarlane, and a Hook Horror from Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. I'm not saying I collected or completely endorse all of these franchises, but that a figure here and there took my fancy.

I also used to have a Dragonne from Advanced Dungeons and Dragon (which was often paired with the Hook Horror in the series of figures) but its arm broke off. I think I still have the pieces tucked away in the Big Toy Box, which has become a sort of elephant's graveyard for broken toys.

The Lord of the Rings: The Voice of Saruman (Part Five and Last)

 

The Tale

They leave the steps of Orthanc and the Riders hail Theoden and salute Gandalf for his actions. Saruman’s spell is broken; they have seen him humiliated and dismissed. Gandalf says he must now report to Treebeard how things went with the disgraced wizard. Merry asks were they likely to have gone any other way.

‘Not likely,’ answered Gandalf. ‘though they came to the balance of a hair.’ There were reasons to offer Saruman a chance to repent. He still could have done the West much good. But he tried to deal with his foes one at a time, and his treachery was exposed to all. But now he will not serve but only command. Whatever happens he is in trouble. They cannot breach Orthanc from without, but who knows what Sauron can do?

Pippin asks what Gandalf will do with him if Sauron does not conquer? Nothing, replies Gandalf. He himself does not desire mastery. He cannot guess what will become of Saruman. But ‘I grieve that so much that was good now festers in the tower.’

But perhaps things have not gone so completely badly. ‘Often does hatred hurt itself!’ Gandalf thinks that there are few treasures in the tower more precious than that which Wormtongue hurled down at them. There is a sudden high shriek from Orthanc. Apparently, Saruman thinks so too.

The company returns to the ruin of the gate. Treebeard and a dozen or so Ents come out from the shadows where they have been hiding. Gandalf introduces the old Ent to Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas, who had missed the feast held for Theoden and his Riders. The three gaze at the Ents in wonder.

Treebeard is especially pleased to see the elf; it has been long since any Elves have been seen near Fangorn forest, and the Ents will always be grateful for the Elves ‘awakening’ them in the first place. The two exchange compliments about their homes. Mirkwood was a mighty great forest, says Treebeard, but not so big that they’re never glad to see new trees, answers Legolas. When all is over, he would love to return with a friend to explore the wonders of Fangorn. Treebeard says he and any Elf he chooses to bring will be most welcome.

But Legolas does not mean another Elf, but Gimli, son of Gloin. Gimli bows, but unfortunately his axe comes clattering down from his belt. Treebeard is taken aback and looks at the dwarf darkly. ‘This is a strange friendship!’ But Legolas hastens to assure him that the axe is not for trees but for Orc necks; Gimli slew forty-two in the recent battle.

‘That is a better story!’ But they will have to see what the future brings when it comes. Right now, the day is drawing to a close, and they say the King and his company have to ride back to Edoras. Gandalf says he must take his gatekeepers, Merry and Pippin, with him, but he thinks the old Ent will manage things well enough without them.

Maybe, but Treebeard will miss them. They have become friends in so short a time, and they are the first new thing he has seen for so long a time, he feels positively youthful, and almost ‘hasty’. He has put Hobbits in a place in the old Long List, right next to Ents; he will not forget them. He asks Merry and Pippin if they ever hear about any Entwives back in their homeland they will tell him, and come themselves if they can. The Hobbits say they will and turn away hastily; the parting is too emotional for them to prolong.

Treebeard gazes after them thoughtfully, then turns to Gandalf. So, Saruman wouldn’t leave, eh? He can kind of understand that. If all his forests were destroyed, he wouldn’t come out while he had one hole to hide in. But he hasn’t plotted to cover the world with trees and choke the life from all other things, Gandalf points out. The evil wizard must be kept locked up, to weave such plots as he can in his prison. Gandalf asks that they flood the bowl around the tower again, to prevent his escape from any tunnel he may have underground.

Treebeard agrees and assures Gandalf that the Ents will guard and make sure he does not get out. They will search every pebble in the valley until any secret way is discovered and blocked. Old, wild trees will be coming to make Isengard green again. They will call it the Watchwood. ‘Leave it to the Ents! Until seven times the years in which he tormented us have passed, we shall not tire of watching him!’

 

Bits and Bobs

Yavanna

According to Tolkien’s later ‘exploratory invention’, the tension between Dwarves and the Ents goes right back to the beginning. The Vala Yavanna, mistress of all trees and growing things, foresaw the depredations that her husband Aule’s creation, the Dwarves, would have on her trees, so she prayed that Eru create the Ents, to guard the forests. Matters weren’t helped when an army of Dwarves (not Durin’s Folk) ransacked the forest kingdom of Doriath, and, trying to escape through the woods, were destroyed by Ents. It is possible (though never stated) that, given his great age, Treebeard himself might have been there.

As it turns out later, Saruman’s imprisonment does not last quite as long as Treebeard promised. But at least he is removed from the chessboard and out of Gandalf’s hair for the rest of the action against Sauron. 

Thrand (Part Three): Adventures!

 

To begin with, she pulled down the coverlet and gently opened Thrand’s rather ornate sleeping gown. She held back her thick hair and put one slightly pointed ear to his wide, hairy chest. After a moment, she moved her head down to his paunch and listened there, too. The Morg became acutely aware of every gurgle and squelch rumbling in his stomach; apparently his eggs were not best pleased with their new home and wanted to swim. The healer lifted her head. She looked vaguely satisfied, but whether this was because all was well or because she had found what she had expected was hard to tell.

She put her hands on either side of his head and turned his face firmly towards the lamp.

“Open,” she ordered.

Thrand obeyed, and the next thing found her head halfway down his muzzle, fingers moving the lips up and down to examine his fangs down to the gums. He almost gagged trying to hold his breath out of courtesy, but her next command was “Exhale. Long. Deep.” With some relief he did so. To his embarrassment he heard her take a prolonged, assessing sniff. She withdrew her head. Thrand raised his eyebrows, but the healer said nothing.

Instead, she silently drew back the pouches of his eyes and examined their yellowing, bloodshot sockets, peered into his ears, lifted his arms and smelled the pits, threw back the covers and felt his feet and up his legs, pressing them firmly like a housewife judging a ham at the butcher shop. She dropped the leg and stood back.

“How often do you use the chamberpot during the night?” she asked, face neutral.

“Four or five times,” he rumbled. “Quite often during the day, as well. It’s getting to be a nuisance,” he confessed pettishly, as if complaining about the service.

“And how often do you … make?”

“Once every three days.” Thrand said testily. “But when it comes, it’s a big one. Look, what does this have to do with my heart?” he growled. “That’s what I’ve called you here for!”

“Everything’s connected,” the old lady said calmly. “Your body is all one system, you know. Now, has your pot been emptied tonight?”

She insisted on looking at that as well, swirling it under the light, and even taking another long, deep sniff of the contents. After she put it away, she asked him to sit up in bed.

“This part may take a while. I ask you to be patient. I ask you not to stir much, or to say anything; part of what I am doing is Listening, in a special sense. Your Morg doctors do not do this, I know. They cannot do it.” She took his arms just below his paws. Her fingers seemed to seek out certain points of contact and press gently but firmly into them. Thrand could feel his pulses moving under her touch. The old healer closed her eyes.

“Quiet,” she breathed. “Peace.”

Notes: This section is greatly influenced by Robertson Davies The Cunning Man and his Dr. Jonathan Hullah with his holistic diagnosis methods. But the 'magic' is coming up soon.  

Out of the Toybox (9 1/2): And What is a Dragon Without a Hoard?

 

Out of the Toybox (9): A Wilderness of Dragons

 

In the very back is Norbert from Harry Potter (ironically my largest dragon action figure while the smallest in 'real life'), three dragons (well, technically 4) from Dragonslayer, the smaller figure of the dragon from Shrek, and Maleficent in dragon form from Sleeping Beauty.

Four dragons from Dragonology, Shenron from Dragonball Z, and again Maleficent in dragon form from Sleeping Beauty.

Here is a selection of dragons that I wanted to get, but had no chance. They include more Dragonology, Shrek, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Smaug from The Hobbit movies.

And here's a Bronze Dragon I used to have (I still have the remains) from Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.

And as a bonus, our Ashland squeaky 'baby dinosaur', sometimes used as a dragon in old playings. I don't know who has it now; my guess is Susan.