Word: Gramarye

 

gramarye

or gram·a·ry

noun

occult learning; magic.

 ******************************

Marcus sat amidst an ever-flowing mass of books. They flowed around in a ever changing whirlpool of paper and leather. He was barely aware of them, focused as he was on the single volume that lay open on the small desk. He ran his finger along the ink, muttering to himself. His wrinkled brow furrowed and he reread the lines. He then shut the book and placed it into the whirlpool, where it began to move along with the others.

He began looking for another book when he was interrupted by the proximity alarm spells around his home. He sighed, wondering if he needed to bother dealing with the would-be intruder himself. Normally he would let his defensive spells do their job, but this could just be some random person from the nearby village. Best to chase them off and be done with it. He would resume his study afterwards.

A quick spell and he was in the area of the alarm. He saw something running off into the woods. A person, it seemed. Why were they leaving so soon though? He looked around and saw nothing. Then he looked down. There was a baby there. A girl, easily seen since she wore no clothes. The child was small, probably not even a year old, and was painfully thin. She lay still, barely breathing, without even the strength to cry. Her skin was dirty and showed signs of small cuts and bruises, blood and dirt mixing far too freely. But the worst of all was the missing right arm. It had obviously been cut off, as the would was still healing.

“Now why would someone leave a baby here?” He asked, picking up the child.

The moment he did, he could feel something. The unmistakable feel of potent magic. He opened his mystical sight and nearly dropped the child. He was an ancient wizard, well into his third century, and was considered one of the most powerful magic users alive. The power of this child, who had not seen even a single year, dwarfed his. It was like comparing a candle to the sun.

“Ah, I see now.” He said.

He really did. Why she was here. Why her arm had been removed. He understood it all. The peasants in the nearby village had likely noticed the odd occurrences that naturally formed near large deposits of magic, and had figured out the girl was the cause. Fearing such power, they would have removed her arm to keep her from casting, and then abandoned her to the forest. A threat removed by the cruel hand of nature. The fools.

Their efforts were for naught. The magic would subconsciously protect her from any threat. And for a girl with such vast stores of power, a missing arm was barely an inconvenience. Besides, it was possible she could be able to grow a new one before she learned to walk.

“It would be a shame to leave you unattended, child.” Marcus said. He conjured a fine silk blanket for the girl, and wrapped her in it. “Don’t worry, I shall tend to you. I will make sure you learn magic properly. I will teach you to master your power, instead of it mastering you. And I shall raise you to not fear those who took your arm. Perhaps I should make sure you learn to help others. Yes, that is how it should be. One with your power should be a hero to all.” He nodded at the idea. “Yes, that is what shall happen. Now then, what to call you. First, a True Name, known only to us.”

He knew right away what he would Name her. There was only one that would do. He reached out with a strand of magic to her soul, connecting them. He read what was there and smiled. He should have known she would have this Name, even without his tampering. He leaned in close to her and whispered a single word into her ear. A word so ancient even the gods had forgotten it. A word that could shape the world. And now it was hers.

“That is a Name only for us. A deep Name. A powerful Name. Your True Name. For everyone else, I shall call you something that will inspire others to great deeds. A name that shows love and purity. I shall name you Claire. A name that is simple and elegant, but shows the world the purity of your soul, uncorrupted by your great power.”

With the girl thus named, he brought her back to his home. He had much to do now, much to prepare for. And the first part of it was making sure his new daughter lived to see many years, and many great deeds.

***************************************

Oo, fantasy stuff. That's fun, right? Hopefully if I ever do something more with this I'll be able to keep from falling into the standard YA "chosen one is special for reasons" trap. We'll see if that ever happens though.

Word: Cordial

cordial

[ kawr-juhl or, especially British, -dee-uhl ]

 

adjective

courteous and gracious; friendly; warm: a cordial reception.

invigorating the heart; stimulating.

sincere; heartfelt: a cordial dislike.

Archaic. of or relating to the heart.

noun

a strong, sweetened, aromatic alcoholic liquor; liqueur

a stimulating medicine.

 

 *******************************

               Fred looked at the mail while Sue twisted and waved to the new workout craze she had subscribed to. Most of it was junk mail, which he immediately discarded. When he was done, there was only one piece of paper that was not immediately destined for the recycling bin. It was a letter from another person in the neighborhood. One that made Fred’s eye twitch.

               He opened the envelop and read the contents. He growled as he read the short message.

               “You have got to be kidding me!” He nearly shouted.

               “What is it?” Sue asked, not looking away from the computer screen.

               “Todd’s having a party at his place. Some big, outdoor thing. Just got an invite to it.”

               “Oh, well, that’s nice of him.”

               “No. No it isn’t. It’s an insult is what it is.”

               Fred could feel his wife rolling her eyes, even as she continued to follow along with the instructor.

               “I’m serious, Sue. It’s an insult to every man in the neighborhood. Remember how he won that big shrubbery contest?”

               “Of course. I was glad when it ended. You finally paid attention to something other than a few big plants. What about it?”

               “This party of his is outdoor only, get it? He’s just showing off his ‘prize winning’ shrubs. He’s taunting us. Rubbing his win in our faces. Oh sure, he’ll be all nice and polite about it. Might not even mention the contest. But I guarantee whatever he’s got set up will be right next to the damn things.”

               “You’re overthinking this. He’s just having a party while it’s still nice out.”

               “A party for no reason? It’s nobody’s birthday, and there’s no holidays coming up. There’s no reason for it.”

               Sue paused the video and looked at her husband, arms folded in front of her. “It’s called being social, Fred. People are allowed to do nice things for others sometimes. Things like holding a party just because you want to. It happens all the time.”

               “When was the last time he did something like this?” She could not answer. “Exactly. It’s all about the shrubs. I mean, really, you can tell what it is right from the invite. Here, listen to this: You are hereby cordially invited to attend a grand, outdoor event. Who talks like that, really? And don’t tell me he’s just being polite about it. Nobody uses that kind of language unless they want to look better than they are.”

               “Okay, so what if he’s trying to show off the shrubs? He worked hard on them, so why not show them off a bit? Wouldn’t you want an excuse to do that if you won?”

               “Well, yeah, I guess so.”

               “So what’s the problem? We’ll go to the party, mingle with the neighbors for a bit, then come home. You can completely ignore the shrubs if you want to. Just be nice while we’re there, okay?”

               He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was right. She was always right.

               “Okay, fine. But if Todd tries to give anyone gardening tips, I’m leaving.

**********************************

I'm not a big fan of parties. I'm usually the guy who stays in the corner not doing much of anything all night. It's just not really my thing.

Word: Butte

butte

[ byoot ]

 

noun Western U.S. and Canada.

an isolated hill or mountain rising abruptly above the surrounding land.

 

******************************

There was a small mountain standing outside of the town. As far as mountains went, this one was not particularly impressive. Most would agree that the only reason it qualified as a mountain was that it was too large to be a hill. There would be no intrepid explorers aiming to find its mysteries. No daring mountain climbers seeking to scale it. Not people seeking to hike its slopes for a scenic view of the area. It was not even particularly photogenic. There was, in fact, only one thing about this mountain that set it apart from any other mountain. And that was that it had not been there the previous day.

               The townspeople had gathered to see their new geological formation and muttered about it curiously. They whispered ideas about how it had gotten there, of course, but no two people agreed. The only thing they could agree on was the otherwise lackluster nature of the thing. Not even a few trees to liven it up.

               It took an hour of discussion and limited wonderment for people to grow bored of the thing. It was not doing anything other than add a new feature to the skyline. It was not particularly interesting to look at. It gave no hints of its origin. For such a grand mystery, it really was quite dull. And so, people left to go about their day as if nothing was wrong.

               The only people who stuck around for any length of time was the mayor and his assistant. That was more because both knew they would inevitably have to call someone about the sudden appearance of a small mountain, rather than any personal interest. The discussion mainly involved who to call. Geologists? News crews? Or maybe the map makers. By the time they headed back to their office to make the calls, the people had already gotten used to the mountain, and either treated it as if it had always been there or was not there at all. A few of the braver, or less directly supervised, children even started hiking up the rocky slopes to play.

               The mountain, meanwhile, was aware of none of the disturbance its presence had caused. It had simply moved there to get away from its larger cousins and finally get some rest. It knew it was a terribly small and dull peak and was constantly being made fun of because of it. Now, out here by itself, it would finally get some respect from the local hills. Really, its new home was better all around.

               It vaguely became aware of a few small, insignificant creatures crawling on its surface. This was a novel experience for the mountain, so it paid slightly more attention than it normally would. But, like the people that now lived at its foot, the mountain grew bored of watching the tiny beings play. And so, it did what most mountains would do in this situation. It ignored them and went back to sleep.

***********************************

The hills have eyes...or mountains, in this case.