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The Upstairs Archives

~ A random repository of how-to-write and geekery, with an occasional snippet of accidental wisdom.

The Upstairs Archives

Tag Archives: rambling musings

Marvel’s Red Shirts?

02 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

captain america: the first avenger, completely random posts, iron man, marvel, rambling musings, randomness, stuff i notice

I just noticed something. But rather than tell you, I think I’ll show you:

yinsenerskine

Okay? You know who those guys are, right? Well, if you were paying attention in Iron Man (and even if you weren’t while watching Captain America: The First Avenger), you’d know that the first one is Dr. Yinsen, incidentally the guy who saves Tony Stark’s life in the first couple minutes of the movie and helps him ultimately escape (oh, did I forget to say “spoiler alert?” Whoopsie…), and the second one is Dr. Abraham Erskine, the man who created the supersoldier serum and who was instrumental in making Steve Rogers into a superhero.

What the flaming kerfuffle, Marvel?

I’m noticing a pattern here. Scientist person. Key to the early character development/hero’s journey of the central character. Gunned down early in the film.

The guy with the glasses always dies. (Except for Brucie, but he’s a central character. He doesn’t count.)

I hope this isn’t a pattern. I was enjoying the feeling that Marvel movies were unpredictable.

Ladies and gentlemen: legitimate Red Shirt of the Marvelverse. The guy with the glasses.

(And now that I’ve, hopefully, made you laugh, here’s something I found while out browsing the web that hit me right in the feels.)

oh, look! Guys in parkas and someone lying frozen solid on a table!

These guys are going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE when SHIELD finds out that Steve was actually aware of them the entire time. It was in the flashback–he remembers it! *cries* Poor guy… *sobs wildly*

i dont know if anyone cares

*cries* No. Just… no.

He froze to death and he remembers it.

People, that’s just too much… *goes to cry in a shrubbery*

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Silliness, Part Two

19 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard, Uncategorized

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

bbc merlin, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, extremely random posts, humor, insanity, j.r.r. tolkien, rambling musings, randomness, silliness, the chronicles of narnia, the hobbit, the lord of the rings

Does anyone remember A Random Story, that silly take-a-turn writing piece I did back in January with two friends to pass the time as we headed back from the March for Life?

Well, here’s some more! With thanks to everyone at Mockingjay14’s birthday party. (The first part is mine, the second is Iris‘… it was her sister’s birthday party, anyway. 😉 ) Everyone took a turn at writing a little more onto a story, and each paragraph represents a different writer. Enjoy the silliness!


Once upon a time in a room full of dead ferns a man in black rose from purple moss and strode purposefully away. He threw a black sword into the black air with a black scowl and proclaimed, “WOOF!”

No, really, that wasn’t what he actually said… what he actually said was, “I summon thee, Dark One,” after which a cloaked figure appeared. The man was surprised by the Dark One’s short stature, and when he threw back his cloak, he turned out to be…

Bilbo in disguise! He was quite grumpy because he had lost all of his pocket-handkerchiefs. He had been searching for one when he had…

fallen down a cliff, meanwhile hitting his head, passing out, and rolled into the purple moss. He happened to be allergic to it, so…

his whole face swelled up, and he began to notice that it was becoming hard to breathe. So, he threw himself down, and took a nap.

Then, when he woke up, he suddenly felt an urge to eat circus peanuts when he saw…

an elephant who wanted peanuts as well. The elephant said, “I DON’T LIKE PURPLE!”

Bilbo ran away from the elephant because it was scaring him, but it chased him! Then a flying figure appeared above Bilbo. It was…

Fledge, with Merlin, Frodo, and Cor and Corin on his back and all of them were having a huge argument. Bilbo and everyone else…

decided to get as far away as possible. On the way, they ran into Tauriel. She saw Bilbo and said, “Aww, you poor little hobbit. Here, let me help.” Then she healed Bilbo, and they set off for the Shire. But if they ever got there or not, we’ll never know.


Author’s note: Erm… sorry about this. It’s been in my drafts for months. About five months, in fact. Apparently I lost it in my drafts–you’re just super fortunate I finally found it again. Always good for a laugh, right?

Thanks for reading, and God Bless! (Merry Christmas!)

 

Reasons Why I Loved “Captain America: The First Avenger”

17 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 68 Comments

Tags

authors, brian jacques, c.s. lewis, captain america, captain america: the first avenger, characters, confusing nonsense, cressida cowell, editor, how to train your dragon, marvel superheroes, movie reviews, movies, nazi germany, rambling musings, redwall, science, science fiction, small rants, star wars, story dynamics, theoretic science, world war II, writer, writing

Hello, dear readers, and sorry about the absence. I really shouldn’t have an excuse and if I do have one, it’s 1) college, 2) rough transfers, and 3) poor time management. So, really my fault this time, and I hope you enjoy the post.

Now, on to the point! I’ve probably told everyone about how I saw Captain America: The First Avenger on Sunday and absolutely loved it. I’ll probably review it once I have the chance to see it twice (I make it a rule not to review anything until the second watching, for obvious reasons; not that the second watch often changes my initial opinion), but for now I’m making a list of reasons why I loved it and why you should go see it if you haven’t yet. 😉 So, without further ado (and in no particular order):

  1. Because underdogs. Everyone cheers for an underdog in a story, though it’s sometimes different in real life (because people in real life want to be on the winning side. Why else would Italy change sides halfway through WWII?) But more than just having an underdog-becomes-awesome story, The First Avenger also gives us a few reasons why it’s an underdog story. Because, as the nice scientist whose name I can’t remember states, a weak man appreciates what strength can do and, if his heart is in the right place, he won’t misuse it.
  2. It has a good portrayal of hero vs. villain. Rather than having all Germans be the bad guys, it is a German scientist who didn’t agree with Hitler (they don’t mention anything about him being Jewish, which in my opinion adds to the character dynamic) and fled the country who first sees something in the young Steven Rogers. Also, to be historically accurate, there were cowardly followers and Nazis who were the spawn of darkness (because. They were.) If this movie lacked anything, it was the nice Goring brother. 😛 (Yes, Herman Goring had a brother who could not agree less with his philosophy! Look it up! 😉 )
  3. Patriotism. And what’s more, a balanced portrayal of patriotism vs. nationalism. The Nazis were not patriotic. They were nationalistic. And the guys who repeatedly talk about killing Nazis? They’re nationalistic, too. Also ethnocentrist, but that’s occasionally justified. Steve just wants to get out there and fight for his country. And he’s not just fighting for his country, but he’s fighting for an ideal, which is basically what patriotism is and why patriotism is a Christian virtue. There have always been Americans who were also America-haters out there, but Steve puts these guys to shame. He’s not just fighting for his country. He’s fighting so that Nazi Germany can’t enslave more places (which is also technically ethnocentric, but this is one of ethnocentrism’s proper places, since the Nazi “ideal” was wholly evil.) He’s fighting for those back home. He’s fighting for those who can’t fight, too–especially since, at first, he was one of those.
  4. This brings me to reason #4. Here we have a guy in the public spotlight after becoming a folk hero, being used as an advertising gimmick. Basically, he has attention, but he doesn’t want it. We know that he really hates this and only goes along with it because it’s for the war effort. He really wants to be over there with the soldiers who are fighting and dying. He’s a symbol, and he never particularly wanted to be one. He’s also bad at keeping up the troops’ morale (when he’s not on the field). Yet, when he gets the chance to fight, he’s not disobeying the people higher up until his friend’s life is at stake.
  5. This movie is pretty darn funny! It’s great to watch, has humor, and can make you cry in places. It’s pretty well-balanced, in my opinion.
  6. The protagonist feels pretty helpless around girls. 😛 I think it’s charming, and pretty funny, but it does lead to some awkward moments. Basically what I’m trying to say here is he’s not a flirt, which in my opinion is the bane of the new Spiderman movies.
  7. Steve is really against violence. This is made, in my opinion, pretty clear when he makes the distinction between fighting for his country and killing Nazis. Not only is he against violence, but he also understands that sometimes–sometimes–violence is the only way to protect yourself, your friends, and your country. Also, in this occasion, he’s protecting others around the world from being overrun by Nazi Germany. (I believe C.S. Lewis made the point why he wasn’t a pacifist, and that’s what I’m talking about here.)
  8. Last, but certainly not least, he has a shield. No, I’m not going to rave about superhero weaponry… okay. Maybe a little bit. Because you’ve got to admit, that buckler of his is pretty darn cool. It operates on a similar principle to a bulletproof vest, for goodness’ sake! Anyway, though a shield can be used as a weapon (thank you, Roughnut and Toughnut, for that marvelous exhibition), it’s primarily a defensive one. You use it to keep arrows, pikes, lances, and swords (and in this case, bullets and knives) from hitting you. Though it can be thrown like a discus, the edges aren’t sharp like the edges of Racketty Tam MacBurl’s buckler, so it’s mainly used to stun rather than to kill. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi choosing to use Soresu rather than Ataru later in life, Captain America’s fighting style and weaponry are the ultimate statement of his life philosophy. Be ready to defend yourself when necessary; do not attack when not provoked. As Obi-Wan puts it, “There are alternatives to fighting.”

(More about the shield. Apparently, rather than hardening up to absorb impacts, thus spreading the impact around a larger area, like a bulletproof vest or liquid armor do, vibranium actually absorbs the kinetic energy of anything coming at it, keeping shock waves running through the shield virtually nil. For instance, if the shield were somehow merely hard enough to stop bullets and other objects at high velocity from penetrating it, the vibrations throughout the shield would be enough to actually break the bones in Cap’s arm and hand. However, since vibranium actually absorbs those shock waves, this is not a problem at all. This is one incidence in which I will not question Marvel pseudo-science, because though this has not theoretically been proven possible yet, it pushes the boundaries and is innovative, like good science fiction should be. I will, however, question the portrayal–if vibranium really absorbs all the kinetic energy, then why do things make noise when they hit it? And why does Steve sometimes stagger backward upon an impact? I know this is to make it look realistic in the film, but it does call the physics into question a little bit, doesn’t it?!)

The one thing that I did not particularly care for was the wording that the scientist uses to describe what happens to the personalities of those who receive the serum he created. Though I suppose we could attribute it to English being (probably) his second language. 😛 I don’t think the serum actually changes someone’s personality, per se. It merely underscores, magnifies, or works on what is already there. It gives a good man the opportunity to do great things, and gives a bad man the power to do worse evil. I don’t think it changes people’s personalities. In my experience, most of the time it’s only time and circumstances to do that, and with the serum, time is a factor that doesn’t really play in, since the transformation is relatively quick.

So there you have it, a quick critique and a short post on theoretic science all in one. ;-P

That much said, go watch the movie! 😛

Two Stories (And A Spider)

07 Sunday Sep 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 42 Comments

Tags

college, extremely random posts, humor, insanity, life, rambling musings, real life, science, selay'uu (sort of), small rants, stories, yes this really happened

The title is in tribute to Professor V.J. Duke, who suggested that I post on this. It seemed only natural to make the title Punchy-ish, to me. 😉

Now, to get on to what I am really posting about.

I am sorry I have been so absent recently. It’s really a matter of college (which, I think, secretly wants to eat my soul, as I mentioned to the Professor earlier today.) But anyway, something that’s actually fit to print (or rather, two somethings, as the case proved) happened starting on Wednesday and ending on Friday.

On Friday morning, I had been innocently going about my business at my horticulture class, and I saw a daylily (hemercallis spp.) with an actual seed pod on it. Our daylilies at home look something like a cross between a regular lily and a firecracker. (Added to that, they’re a vibrant orange.) They actually have double petals, which is a hybrid thing, which is probably why I never saw them ever actually setting fruit.

Anyway, I thought that if I could get enough daylily seeds, maybe I could start them and grow some daylilies myself. The instructor did mention they would be easy to breed. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, as it turns out, I had a stowaway.

Hidden in one of the seedpods was a fat, round brown spider about the size of a large pea or a petite blueberry. And it must have been happy in my pocket–it was nice and warm, after all.

Anyway, I get home and I want to change after spilling something on my pants, so I take off my jeans and put on a skirt, and I go to take the daylily seeds out of my pocket, and while I’m at it, I feel something fuzzy and withdraw my hand. Oh look! It’s brown and a lot bigger than the other seeds… AUGH! It’s moving!

I jerked my hand away (I didn’t scream, though–you would be proud of me, beloved readers!) and picked up my jeans, holding them at arm’s length; took them to an area of the house with linoleum, and collected a clear plastic cup and a piece of card stock. Then, I move to flush the spider out of the pocket. However, by now the spider has moved to the waistband of the jeans, so I edge him off with the cup and onto the linoleum, trap him, slide my card stock under him, and my mother helps me take him outside.

Mission accomplished.

(Then I went back inside and did a bit of research to make sure I was not harboring a brown recluse *shudders* in my pocket, but that bit of the story is less glorious, so I’m leaving it out. 😉 )

The other story, which began on Wednesday, is a bit more puzzling, and it’s open ended to boot.

On Wednesday, my horticulture class was out and about, identifying plants for practice, and we had just gotten to the purple wintercreeper when I saw a pretty red berry in the foliage. I leaned down and picked it up. One of the boys from my class said, “Look, a snack!” I said, “I don’t think it is safe to eat,” and showed it to the instructor, who confirmed that it was probably from the nightshade family. The boy took it and offered it to me. “Enjoy.”

Two Days Later…

On Friday, I went back to the class and had a good time with some new friends I made. However, as we were all admiring the ‘Husker Red’ penstemon, the same boy offered me a mushroom of some unidentified type.

I think he’s making a habit of jokingly offering me things that may or may not be poisonous, but is he just being silly… or is he flirting?

What do you think?

Thanks for dropping by today, and God Bless!

Why I Am A Hopeless Romantic (and other ramblings)

22 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

beliefs, catholic culture, catholocism, rambling musings, religion, roman catholic

This one goes out to Erin of Laughing at Live Dragons and Proverbs31teen at World of the Writer. You two are awesome.

No, I don’t sit at the top of my tower warbling “Someday my prince will come!” But I do believe in marriage, and, for me, divorce will never be an option. When love fails, faithfulness will keep me from straying until I realize at last that love was never lost, it was just hidden.

To me, love is not just the name of an emotion. It is also the name of an action. It is when the night is darkest that the stars shine the brightest; when things are hardest I will do my best to persevere and not forget. Vows are sacred; I will keep them.

No, I don’t believe in the rapture. I do believe that every day is a shrine to the most high God, to be sweetened with the incense of prayer and filled with offerings of roses, no matter how harsh and sharp the thorns of sacrifice.

No, I don’t believe that churchgoing makes the Christian. I believe that what takes place in between services is equally important. Do you keep your mind on lofty things, or do you slip into the gray areas until you realize your mind is so numb that prayer is all but impossible and you must climb, struggling and falling often, back to the heights from which you so slowly slid?

In the end, I believe that Love will conquer, that Light will chase the darkness away, that God will claim His own children and bring them to their inheritance.

I believe that God came down and became truly human, at the same time retaining His divinity. He became human, and endured our sufferings, our little aches and pains, without complaint. The Son knew the perfection of suffering and pain; He was sick sometimes, weary at heart at others. He bowed His head to human authority. He bent His back beneath the scourge. He did not call on the legions of angels awaiting His command to help Him in His agony; He did not even use His own power to stop it. Instead, He said, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

I believe that Love died on a cross to save us, even though we did not deserve it, even though we can never deserve it.

In the end, I believe in forgiveness.

And that’s what makes me a hopeless, incurable romantic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgzXgo0K7Rg

(You don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to, but it’s well worth watching–yes, all the way to the end! 😉 )

Allowed in Writing, Forbidden in Editing

27 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

author, authors, c.s. lewis, confusing nonsense, description, dumas, editor, insanity, j.r.r. tolkien, life, living life unexpectedly, long rants, muse, rambling musings, rousseau, secret life, story dynamics, writer, writer trouble, writing

Or, How to Talk With Authors and Not Tick Them Off.

Have you ever compared a writer to a published author, only for them to become upset and irritated? It’s a common enough occurrence. I know that I myself have been subjected to this form of torture a few times.

Why do writers find comparison irritating? Well, perhaps because they are occasionally inadvertently compared to an author whose work they object to, or whom they simply know is not really very good at their craft. But more often, it’s like this.

While comparisons are the essence of description, they can also be trite and shallow. And when dealing with an author, it’s a good idea to not upset them. For one thing, it won’t change their mind or their writing if they feel antagonized. For another… have you seen those buttons around the internet?! You know, the ones that say “Be nice, or you’ll end up in my novel”?! There is truth to those, you know.

So, each event, no matter how commonplace, should be taken as a new and unprecedented one in the larger context. Also, an author may take you too literally when you compare them to Rousseau, for instance. They may think you are calling them unoriginal, that you think that their ideas are too similar to Rousseau to be taken practically. They may think that you’re secretly irritated with them for emulating Rousseau. (It’s true, writers oftentimes have inferiority complexes.) Instead, you should tell them, “Your prose reminds me of Dumas!” or “Your world-building brings C.S. Lewis to mind!” or “I love this description. It sounds like Tolkien’s work. I can really see it in my mind’s eye!” Rather than making a sweeping generalization, it’s better to compare different elements of their work to authors, rather than comparing their work as a whole. Remember, real life isn’t actually a paper you’re writing on how different mythologies influenced Lewis and Tolkien, making their work different, or comparing Dumas son to Dumas pere. Instead, you’re supposed to be giving useful feedback (not necessarily advice!) to an author who isn’t dead yet, so be specific.

Good luck.

Quote

A few thoughts on homeschooling

23 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Uncategorized

≈ 37 Comments

Tags

completely random posts, homeschooling, humor, life, rambling musings, small rants, wisdom, yay

I was commenting on Rachel Carrera’s blog, and we got to talking about homeschooling. (I also was talking about it with pinkdoughnuts15, too. HOMESCHOOLERS UNITE!!!) Anyway, I somehow (it happens, sometimes,) came out with this pithy piece of wisdom:

At public school, kids learn stuff. Homeschooling kids learn how to think.

I don’t know how I got to that conclusion, but that’s how I feel. At college last year, I met other students, and was in the top 10% of all my classes. About my lowest grade was a B+. People thought I was really smart, but I think it was partly because I had already covered a great deal of the material before, and partly because being homeschooled had taught me good thinking strategies.

Also, for some reason “homeschooling” is accepted as correct by this stupid word processing program, but not “homeschooled” or “homeschool.” What’s with that?

Hooray for homeschoolers! X-D

If you can’t make it yours, make it your own!

19 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

advice, author, camp nanowrimo july 2014, completely random posts, confusing nonsense, creative writing, editor, insanity, long rants, national novel writing month, rambling musings, small rants, story dynamics, writer, writing

Erin walks on, wearing a bright cyan headband over messy yet undeniably gorgeous curls.

People complain about originality an awful lot… She notices the looks at her hair, then shrugs. I feel pretty today. Normally my hair is frizzy, fluffy and horrible. Give me my twenty hours of advertised glory with that Pantene curl scrunching gel stuff. It’s better than what I normally get! She sits down on the chair on stage.

So, people are complaining that all the original plots are taken. She shrugs. So? My advice is, if you can’t make the plot yours, make it your own. If you can’t own it, OWN it! She notices that everyone is staring at her blankly. Am I talking gibberish again, or is my message just not getting across? She crosses one leg over the other.

If you haven’t got an absolutely original, unprecedented plot, then so what? You can still make the one you have absolutely unique. Just pour your heart out into it until you have nothing left to give. I know that sounds hard! She stands up and begins to pace. But that’s what writing is. It’s about going on even when you feel as if there’s no point. Well, there is a purpose to it, even if the purpose is only to get the people living in your heads to stop screaming at you for a little bit. It’s also not always about ending, either. It’s a paradox. You can unravel it if you like that sort of thing.

Even if you have an unprecedented plot, it still pays to put in that extra little bit of work. You following me? Scattered “yes’s” and “no’s.” She ignores the no’s. Good.

Even if you’re not the first person to write a plot of this cast, it will still be unique as long as you take the time to make it unique. It will be worth reading, because those who say “read one, read ’em all” are WRONG! Besides, some people like to read variations on a plot anyway!

So, what is the pith of this little post? I’m telling you to take the extra effort and make your story unique in every facet, because frankly? You’re NOT going to be the next… J.K. Rowling or Susan Cooper or whatsername who wrote the Hunger Games. You’d better start pursuing your own niche because there is no way you can ride to fame on the skirts of their coats. Cloaks. Whatever!

Oh, and if you’re not writing a completely unprecedented plot, don’t despair. Make it your own.

Cliches can be turned to advantage. With enough detailing, even a stereotype’s hardened exterior will dissolve into a most definitely non-Mary Sue.

Rant over.

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

Archivist of Selay’uu’s Journal: Ninja Elf Jedi Pillow Fight

17 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Tales from Selay'uu, Uncategorized

≈ 36 Comments

Tags

completely random posts, confusing nonsense, humor, insanity, j.r.r. tolkien, lord of the rings, rambling musings, selay'uu, small rants, star wars

I was innocently–or at least, as nearly innocently–walking along the corridors of the mansion when Obi-Wan dashed by. He ducked swiftly under cover. I stared for a moment, shrugging, and went forward, minding my own business.

Certainly, the last thing I had ever expected was to be nearly run over–and actually sent flying sideways–by Legolas Thranduillion, of all people.

Of course, he was Elf through and through, meaning he shouted “Sorry Erin!” but he was focused enough on his target–Obi-Wan–that he kept on going, and he shouted it in exactly the same way he shouts “Come on Gimli!” in The Two Towers.

He didn’t even deem it of enough importance to punctuate it properly, with an actual comma, between “sorry” and “Erin.”

Insufferable Elf.

He’s also not taller than me, did I mention that? I’m just edging over him in height. Hah.

Anyways. Legolas ran off after Obi-Wan, leaving me to recover from being bowled over by a mad, berserk Elf. And this, though surprising in itself, is actually a pretty normal day in Selay’uu.

Of course, after being run over by an Elf, I was curious, so I followed–albeit at a less-breakneck speed. Obi-Wan appeared ahead, leaning around a doorway, and flung a pillow–nothing more dangerous–at Legolas, who evaded it with a neat ninja roll. I’ve done ballet for fourteen years, but even I had to envy that. Legolas dived under cover, shouting, “You are finished, Glorfindel!” (Yes, Obi-Wan is called ‘Glorfindel’ by the Elves. Something about reincarnation or something like that. Probably due to the fact that–it’s a secret of Selay’uu and you must not repeat it–Obi-Wan is half Elf himself, and bears an uncanny resemblance to the original Glorfindel, who is not present in Selay’uu since he currently resides in Valinor. Sigh. Also Obi-Wan has some sort of odd memory share thing with the original Glorfindel–it’s like a bunch of things in Lord of the Rings. It only makes sense until it is explained. After that, it sounds like baloney.)

“I doubt that!” Obi-Wan shouted back, throwing another pillow. It curved in mid-flight and managed to smack Legolas a good one. Legolas, of course, returned fire.

I love a good pillow fight, and though Legolas is awesome, when it’s him versus Obi-Wan I plead no-contest. Besides, this is the fellow who just knocked me over with scarce a word of apology. Summoning a stray pillow with my new-found Force powers, but not yet confident enough to use the Force to accelerate it into the Elf’s back, I grabbed it and flung it as hard as I could. It hit Legolas in the back of the head. He turned to stare at me in amazement, and I ran. Diving behind Obi-Wan, I grabbed another pillow and tried to Force-throw it at Legolas. I missed.

“Obi-Wan, what is this?”

“What’s it look like?” he retorted, obviously too fired up to speak in his normal almost clipped manner. “Look out Erin!” He grabbed me and shoved me down, evading a pillow from Legolas.

The other residents of Selay’uu were astonished a few moments later to see an archivist, a Jedi, and an Elven prince of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood chasing each other through the halls, assaulting each other with pillows.

Just because we’re all technically adults, doesn’t mean we have to act it!

Bound to the Flame, Chapter V, Part II

13 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Bound to the Flame, Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard, Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

bound to the flame, camp nanowrimo, camp nanowrimo july 2014, college, confusing nonsense, insanity, john flanagan, life, nanowrimo, national novel writing month, philosophy, rambling musings, ranger's apprentice, secret life, small rants, stories in progress, story dynamics

It’s been awhile–sorry about that. I had college applications, Iris moving, and Nanowrimo to worry about. (I’m behind on my novel, but this will take only a few minutes so I AM NOT WORRYING ABOUT IT. Studiously. :-P)

In other news, I read the first book of the Ranger’s Apprentice series by John Flanagan, The Ruins of Gorlan, and I LOVED it. The humor in the book was very unexpected, and the main character respects his mentor… I can’t think of anything morally objectionable in the book. (On the downside, there was one extraneous plot point that was not as well incorporated as it might be, but I’ll leave that until I can do a proper book review.) I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the chapter! 🙂

Warnings: Lots and lots of philosophy, maybe a little theory. Nothing too strenuous, unless you don’t like exercising your brain. ;-P

Bound to the Flame

Chapter V

Part II

Rowan fell silent again. Margery bit her lip. “Some of my father’s men were defending our coasts against Sea Raiders last winter, and two of them failed to report back in, and were presumed lost. They finally turned up in the springtime. One of them had lost a leg and two fingers. The other one had stayed with him all winter, helping him to survive and nursing him back to health. But when they came back, both of them had changed. The injured man was morose; the other was tired and worn-down. It took the combined efforts of all the men-at-arms as well as my father and brothers to get them back on their proverbial feet. Neither of them was ever quite the same, though.” Margery paused, looking sidelong at Rowan, unsure of how to continue. Without looking at her, Rowan slowly guided Obsidian onwards.

“And you’re trying to figure out if there’s some subtle way of helping me.” Rowan said. “You pity me.” He paused for a moment, biting his cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid that, as far as this goes, this is the best way that you can help.” He sighed. “Activity helps, even if I’m exhausted and sore for hours afterwards.” There was a long time in which they simply rode in silence.

“It’s so quiet here,” Margery said, after a while. Rowan looked up.

“It is,” he said, without offering any explanation. Margery tilted her head on one side.

“Are they setting a trap for us, do you think?”

“Unlikely. I don’t feel any warning that might indicate on. If the silence troubles you, though, what about a walking song? Our enemies are nowhere nearby, I think, and there is no one to hear us.”

“All right…” Margery said. “You sing.” Rowan chuckled.

“Very well.”

“O’er the hills and far away

Out from a rising sun

From my door I heard Mother say,

‘I pray that soon back you’ll come.’

Among the woodlands dark and gray

While leaves all fall around

And squirrels among campfire ashes play

There comes the marching sound.

“O’er the plains so wide and far

O’er the moors so dreary

While at night a shooting star

Falls at our feet weary.

By the cliffsides steep and high

Marching to a song

When the morning dawn draws nigh

Again we pass along.

“O’er the mountains at break of day

When we rise to travel on,

In the dawning cold and gray,

We march over that browning lawn.

In the rain and in the spray

Flying from a stormy sea

Marching far, far away

We’ll come flying homeward free.

“O’er the hills and far away

Into a setting sun

Until the darkness ends the day

And stars now out have come.

O’er the fells and low green tors

Turning fast to gray,

Far from home and hearth and door

We march, far, far, away.”

                Rowan had a good voice, clear and strong, but at the same time soft and melodious; it was almost subdued, but it made the glades reverberate with sound, the earth beneath them trembling in unison with the melody. For a long while after the song had concluded, they rode along in affable silence. At last, contrary to all Margery’s expectations, Rowan broke it.

“Margery, if we are to be able to continue to evade our enemy, there is something that I must do.”

“Then do it,” Margery said, shrugging, not quite comprehending.

“No…” Rowan said. “What I meant is, I would like to—I should ask your permission first.”

“Why?” Margery asked.

“Well, if we are to remain undetected… I need to mute your presence and ground the loose magic that has gathered around you.” Margery gave him a blank gaze. “You can be sensed by magic,” Rowan explained. “But it’s harder for whoever might sense you to do if there isn’t loose magic pooled around you.”

“I don’t understand,” Margery said.

“Well,” Rowan began, apparently trying to think out the best way to explain it, “loose magic—magic that has been already drawn from the warp—”

“Start at the beginning, please,” Margery said. “You’ve explained elemental magic, but not this branch of theory.” Rowan inclined his head.

“Very well. This has to do more with the origins of magic than with the theory of magic,” he said. “Most magic remains hidden, like the warp threads under the weft of a tapestry, holding together the tapestry of life on this world. You can think of the visible world as the weft threads—magic holds them together, just like warp. Magic can be drawn up out of the warp in order to be used. But magic can not be used up, like material goods can. It simply returns to its energy phase. It tries to get back into the warp, but it takes effort or time—even both in some cases—to return. Naturally, it always seeks the path of least resistance—and living things, especially people with an innate magical talent, are like bridges straight to the warp. Thus, ‘loose’ magic tends to gather around magic users, and other living things. The easier a Wielder can connect with the warp, the more magic will tend to pool around them. Most naturally-gifted wizards have the ability to sense large ‘drifts’ of loose magic, which means that they could potentially sense all living things around them. So, if we want to go unnoticed, the wisest course would be to ‘dim’ our presence by returning the loose magic that has gathered around us to the warp.”

Margery shrugged. “Well, go ahead. You didn’t have to ask permission for that. I’m not a magic user, anyway.”

“I don’t like the idea of doing it without asking,” Rowan said. “Just… be warned. This may make you feel vulnerable, tired, weak, perhaps even ill. Everyone can sense magic on some level or other; potentially anyone could become a Wielder, but it would take time and energy. You have a slight magical ability, and that could exacerbate the effect.” Margery shrugged again.

“Well, forewarned is forearmed, I guess. Go ahead.”

Margery had expected to feel any of the sensations Rowan had described—or perhaps she hadn’t known what to expect—but she certainly had not expected the strange draining sensation that flowed through her and left her limbs feeling heavy and her head slightly dizzy. She focused on relaxing and not fighting the dizzy feeling, taking deep breaths. As the off-balanced sensation passed, Margery gave a sigh of relief.

“You responded well,” Rowan said encouragingly. He seemed dimmed, muted, diminished somehow—though it was not in his physical appearance. As far as looks went, he was just a fraction paler than before; that was all. “I may have to repeat this, periodically. Loose magic tends to build up, over time. It makes spell-casting easier. I only grounded enough so that we can blend in with nature.”

“This is more complex than I ever imagined,” Margery murmured. Rowan offered her a sympathetic look.

“Most things are that way,” he remarked. “They seem simple on the surface, but look deeper and they’re inescapably complex, yet beautifully simple at the same time.”

“Can you teach me?” Margery asked, suddenly, impulsively.

“I don’t think so,” Rowan replied pensively. “You’re more intuitive; you use magic instinctively, if at all. I don’t think I could teach you to use it in the way I do, and certainly not in this short a time. Not with any degree of safety. It takes a lifetime to learn properly. Magic is not a plaything; it’s a tool, and like all tools it can be dangerous if abused, or misused. It should not be used by the unskilled. Ever.” Margery bowed her head, chastened. “However,” Rowan continued, I can teach you more about it and help you to understand the gift.” Margery looked at him, grateful.

“Please,” she said softly. Rowan gazed on ahead, thoughtful.

“If you wanted to become a Wielder and were really, honestly serious about it, you could become a scholar, focusing on knowledge, discovery, and research. You would need to find a partner who specialized in focused or applied Wielding, to work with, of course, but wisdom and those who seek it are sorely needed.” Margery smiled. Rowan turned toward her, an unrecognized expression twinkling in tawny hazel eyes. “Besides, there’s another reason why I can’t teach you more than just theory.”

“What would that be?” Margery asked, ducking under a tree branch as she rode.

“Whatever would your parents say?” Rowan asked. Margery suddenly realized what the sly twinkle in the young man’s eyes was—mischief. She moved to swat him, but Rowan moved much more quickly. She missed him completely as he swiftly ducked. “There are some things you should know beforehand,” Rowan said, turning serious. “There are certain laws which should be followed, when it comes to magic. These are not merely the laws of Ertraia, but the laws of righteous Wielders everywhere. Some laws are punishable by imprisonment; others by banishment, or instant death. To seek refuge in Ertraia is to put yourself under Ertraia’s justice. First of all, magic should never be used to take a life by any means, except in the defense of life. There are certain prayers and meditations that should be undertaken subsequent to the taking of a life in self-defense. Attempting to summon spirits is most certainly forbidden. If one of the saints speaks to you in a dream or vision, that’s a different thing entirely; but you must be cautious and examine the message of such a dream, analyzing it to decide if it truly comes from God or His saints. There is almost nothing in the world that is more dangerous than a magician under the influence of a demon; you must guard yourself carefully against the mental interference of such evil forces. Magic can not defend against evil spirits; only reverent prayer can do that. Using magic to compel someone against their free will is also forbidden. Magic should never be used for personal gain. Changing the appearance—the accidents, or circumstances—of some object is possible, but only our Lord—” he bowed his head, respectfully—“can change their substance or essence. To attempt to do so would be blasphemy. It is not permissible to attempt to create life, though imitating it is allowed, under certain dire circumstances. Only God can create life, give it and take it. Saving lives, however, is most certainly permissible and praiseworthy. Creating a bond with someone and then throwing them aside without a thought is unthinkable; bonds should not be created in the first place, unless it is absolutely necessary. Bonding with an animal and then forcing it off on its own is punishable by a fine. Courting dreams and visions is not necessarily culpable, but it is generally considered to be a stupid thing to do, as it can leave you open to suggestion by outside forces that might not be benign. Some forms of knowledge are better left alone; we do not believe that the enemy is best fought with his own weapons. That makes us worse than him, because we actually know better, and yet we still allow ourselves to be provoked. Not his own, no, but with equal and opposite ones.”

Margery looked solemnly at Rowan. “So, the gift comes with responsibilities.”

“As all true gifts do,” Rowan nodded solemnly. “All true gifts are given to us so that we may serve others. We are nothing on our own. It is folly to take our gifts for granted, though this is more a matter for personal guidance, rather than for the law. We walk similar lines in magic that we do in our everyday lives. We fall in similar ways; we make similar errors. The punishments are more severe because a rogue magician can cause more harm than an average man in the same plight. The only man who might cause more damage would be one in a position of power or influence. The more we are entrusted with, the higher the expectations. We must be on our guard at all times so that our power does not corrupt us, and take safeguards against greed.” Margery nodded, seriously.

“So, are all the stories about magic true? Not the ones that say all magicians are evil, of course, but the stories about what magic can do.”

“Some of them, but probably not all,” Rowan said. “Even magic has its rules and its limitations. And there are things that should not be attempted, not merely because they can cause physical harm, but because they are morally destructive to the Wielder as well.”

“What about the stories where someone is healed of a wound that should have been fatal?” Margery asked.

“Those are more likely to be true,” Rowan replied, looking down. Margery could not help it; her eyes were drawn to the ugly old scar on one cheek. How had that come about, if…? “Ertraia’s healers are the best in Scotland,” Rowan carried on, “perhaps the best in the world. Normal wounds are easy enough to heal. Magical wounds—those dealt by direct magical means—are more difficult. Some of our healers have traveled abroad to heal the wounds dealt in war and to aid the sick, but due to the persecution of magic users and other knowledge that seems to them of magic, they have had to keep their true abilities secret, and they have grown rarer. Some of our healers have gone out and never returned, and no word came back to us of their fate. We can only hope that they yet live, and are safe and well.”

“What’s the difference—I mean, how do you tell which magic is dark and which is light?”

“No. Don’t say ‘dark’ or ‘light,’” Rowan said. “Perhaps they are, as you use them, mere metaphors, but they are not quite perfect. To use ‘light’ to imply ‘good’ and ‘dark’ to imply ‘evil’ is not quite accurate. We must remember that they are mere metaphors and not innately good or evil of themselves. Darkness predates sin; it is not evil of itself. Even the light, in this broken world of ours, is flawed. Only the Light of Christ shines perfect. Furthermore, some people use ‘light’ to equate truth, and ‘dark’ for ignorance. But this is flawed as well; truth alone, on its own, without the light of grace and divine revelation, can point people in the wrong direction. A few scattered truths do not add up to a full picture. Truth can be colored by perspective, and twisted to the selfish ends of men. Reason unguided by faith can lead down a dark path indeed. Light illuminates, but it does not always guide.” Rowan fell silent; Margery sat, overawed, perfectly still in her saddle. Rowan cocked his head to one side. “What was the question again?”

Margery couldn’t help but laugh. With his philosophical dissertation, he had obviously forgotten entirely about the question that had prompted it. “I asked how I could tell the good from the bad. Or, maybe, a right use of magic from a wrong one?”

“Much the same way as you can tell a good action from a bad one on a purely ordinary level,” Rowan said. “If either the end or the action is not morally permissible on a completely material, natural, and spiritual standpoint, you can be sure it’s wrong no matter the means, ordinary or magical. Natural law. Conscience. Both apply in any situation.”

“By natural law, you mean the moral guidelines ingrained into us, almost instinct?” Margery clarified.

“Exactly.”

They continued to travel, Margery struggling to remember as much philosophy as she could, until nightfall.

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