The Amazing Tag...With Horses???

So I have recieved a tag! From Star-Dreamer over at the Pen and the Parchment. With horses. Unfortunately, like I said in a comment, I don't know horse heads from horse hooves--so I will have my 'middling' sister speak for me.

Top 5 favorite songs: (not necessarily accurate--I'm pulling off the really good ones out of my head randomly)
1) Diverse City, tobyMac
2) Tonight, tobyMac
3) Savior, Skillet
4) Welcome to the Masquerade, TFK
5) Avalanche, Manafest

Top 5 favorite colors: (yes, half of them are different shades of blue)
1) BABY BLUE!
2) Turkey color ;)
3) Sky blue
4) Deep red
5) Morning Glory-blue

Top 5 favorite animals:
1) Ooh, hard choice... Dragons. Yes, dragons. The non-sentient kind.
2) Moby, my dog! (This is tied for first, by the way)
3) Several kinds of cats
4) My sisters...What? They don't count as animals? Darn. ;) Well, I'll have to go with rabbits, then, despite their dangerousness.
5) Various fantasy beasts

Top 5 favorite horse breeds (Tis my sister speaking):
1) Appaloosa
2) American Saddlebred
3) Arabian
4) American Paint Horse
5) Morgan

Top 5 favorite :fiction: books: (WHAT?!?! HOW IN THE WORLD AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK!?!)
1) Brisingr by Christopher Paolini--but just barely
2) The Infinite Day, by Chris Walley
3) The Return of the King, by J. R. R. Tolkien
4) The Dark Foundations, by Chris Walley
5) The Final Storm, by Wayne Thomas Batson


Keep in mind that the above list is not completely accurate. It would take hours of agonizing turmoil to compile a complete list. ;)

So...whom to tag? Well...

I tag Beorn! I'll give ya somethin' to blog about. :) And I am curious to see what your favorite horse breeds are. ;)

--
Jake

Blessed Rain, Cold Toes, and a Heap of Math

...which basically summarizes my day. But that is the whole purpose of a title, of course.

The rain is, well, raining down as I speak--it has been since this morning. Temperatures are dropping (hallelujah!), and my toes are cold. Not to mention my algebra-soaked brain has taken another pounding...but if you haven't realized this by now, let me tell you a secret; I am completely overreacting to my algebra. Two lessons a day is grueling, to be sure, but it's not too bad--I get done on time, usually, despite my self-enforced quota of math. :) So don't panic.

Oh--and my toes are cold.

But if you want something useful and meaningful to take home, well...I'll think of something...There! I have it. Uh, I have decided for the sixty-ninth time that Barbie is cheesy? Wait! Let me redeem the situation...I shall rack my mind...

~~SPOILER FOR BOTB!!!~~

Well, I have just finished BOTB and realized why Valzaan could have been resurrected so 'easily'. I had a sneaking suspicion after he was resurrected, but I feel that the author--L. B. Graham--made one mistake in revealing what Valzaan was; he told me. Almost to my face. He said, "Valzaan entered Avalione again" or "It was good to be back" or something like that, and I knew, then, who he was. It rather ruined the surprise for me--maybe it was my writers instincts doing it, but I anticipated the 'Vulsultyrim's betrayal' before it happened, too.

And one other thing--I was rather disappointed that Malek didn't have more to offer in terms of battle at the end of BOTB. He was defeated easily, after the battles at the beginning of All My Holy Mountain. I just felt that it was far too easy, and I expected 'sudden disaster' and 'sudden deliverance' at the end--perhaps Graham was through with the 'suddens' at the end of Father of Dragons and the beginning of All My Holy Mountain.

So, yes--I vented what I felt. Ultimately, I really liked this series, but those things above, as well as Valzaan's resurrection, kind of dampened its awesomeness.

~~END SPOILER~~

Is that meaningful enough for you? :) Right now, I'm reading DIOM and OOF (no pun intended!) by Bryan Davis again.

Oh, and I haven't died yet today. Strange.

--
Jake

A Collection of News, Stories, Updates, and a Black Spoon

Long title, eh?

Anyway, as you can see, I have updated my profile picture. :) It's of a partially wooden pen someone gave me once laying on our tile.

For other news, I have books in at the library! Whoopee! Not that it was essential for you to know that. :)

And as for the black spoon--oh, darn. I spelled it wrong. I think it's 'the Blak Spoon'. XD But he was a warrior--a Hero, in fact--in a book I read.

Speaking of warriors, my middling sister and I (the sister that is in the middle of the 'youngest sisters' group) have developed a habit of 'sparring' every day. You see, she is a die-hard Christian fantasy lover and has a remarkable word count of 15,000 words on something she is writing--and she's, what, ten? :) The only problem is that she won't let me see it--but that's all I deserve, after all. I won't let her see my writing. :)

Anyway, we spar using our arms. We literally try to smack each other in a vital place using our arms, as if they were swords. :) Yep--no joke. But it is rather interesting how they play out. I've won four times, and alas! she has beaten me (much to my dismay) twice, both yesterday.

And earlier this afternoon, we were fighting over seconds for food. She kept 'dipping in' for some more mac-and-cheese, while I warned her not to. Of course, she kept doing it--so we fought. And then she noticed something that I was using to further myself in the fight. "Hey! Not fair! You have a spoon!"

Just another normal day. ;)

--
Jake

A Question of Profile Pictures

I have been contemplating the idea of getting a profile picture for some time. Should it be of me, myself, and I? Or perhaps my 'pen' picture that is slowly spreading? Or maybe something completely different, like Millard's burning keyboard picture? :)

I've especially noticed it when I post on someone else's blog; if I use my Google (Gmail) account on some blogs (which I usually don't, since I'd rather link directly to Teenage Writer than to my profile) I'm a 'Jake'...and that's all. No distinguishing feature to mark me any different than any other pictureless 'Google-Jakes' out there. Nothing, like Millard's keyboard, or Squeaks's...uh, something (I'm having a short late-night memory shortage), or Eldra's horse, or Storyteller's smiley, or...well, you get the picture. ;) (Pun intended)

So, what do you, my readers, think about this delicate subject? (For the record, I think I shall remain 'pictorally' anonymous, but I'd still like your opinion.)

--
Jake

Two Things of Note

First--I have a story to share.

My oldest younger sister (I have three sisters, all younger than me) has a lock on the outside of her door. And she has a strange habit of locking herself in her room. :) I walked to her room, not thirty minutes ago, and tried the door--locked. I unlocked it, and walked in. "Alex, you locked yourself in your room again." I said. She shrugged. "I don't remember locking it. Seriously--someone must have locked me in."

I did a seriously dumb thing just then--I demonstrated. "See, look," I said to her. I walked outside the room, and closed the door behind me, locking it. "See? That's how you lock yourself in your room all the time."

But what is really dumb about what I had just done was that I had locked us both in. Score one for insanity, Jake! Yeah, sure, we were rescued in five minutes or so--after pounding on the door and laughing ourselves silly at my stupidity. The story has already been told three times--undoubtedly it will be told even more in the days to come.

Hopefully that brought a smile to your face. I'm smiling while writing it. :D

And second--today is 9/11. I can't sum this day up with simple words, so I'll let someone do it for me; Squeaks wrote a great blog post on it here.

--
Jake

Contemplation of Randomness

You all know by now that you cannot violate randomness by contemplating it. Unfortunately for us. But however...What's that? I'm contemplating it right now? No, I'm doing a prelude to the randomness.

As I was saying--however, I am going to do something random. Or perhaps not. If I announce that I am doing something random and then do it, it isn't random--because randomness happens randomly.

Now--Tolkien and Purple butterflies, right? Or maybe you do not care about the spelling?

Anyway, I will start eventually. Eventually.

So, without further ado!...uh, never mind. I cannot announce the start of my randomness.

Rawr! Tigers are extremely dangerous when ravenously hungry and looking for worms to eat. Don't ask me why he--it is a he, yes--is looking for worms--I haven't the slightest idea. He? I know it is a he because I did not call him a tigress. Tigress, as you know, means a tiger that stands about as high as a female tiger and looks exactly like one.

As for the flobbits...Well, they are short. How short? "Twice as tall as half of you and half as tall as twice of you", of course! At least, that's what it seems to me--and to Bilboy. What? You cannot understand my rambling? Tis not rambling! If you had half a... Oh, excuse me. Back to business. Now, I was speaking of flobbits, yes? What's that you say? Give you a better idea of how tall a flobbit is? Must I? Well...if I must...

A flobbit is three times as tall as a floggernopper, which is half as tall as a tinycroller, which is exactly 33% plus o.5 shorter than a barnsable, which stands about as high as a full grown teelopsy.

Now, back to Central. Central what? Central time zone! What do you mean I never left Central time zone?? Of course I did! I 'zone' out when I'm writing a blog post. :P

I think a lot. Speaking of Thinkalot, that is the last name--given to him--of Doc Dolittle, I believe. Actually, 'Dolittle' was his last name--but it was taken away from him, since he did a lot more than a little.

Maps, maps maps! I enjoy making maps, for sure. For instance, the exact center of Solir is...the Northeastern corner of Aale Forst. And the center of Venin is...Eyli, which is exactly the same distance from Eyli to Rive Sivil, as to Eyli to Lak Jii--the biggest lake in known existence and the largest quantity of water that side of the Yarj Mounts.

But besides the Red Sea--wait! That reminds me of Cyrano de Bergerac. He is AWESOME. How does that remind me of the Red Sea? Find out. :D

Moby, my dog! Uh, it's kind of hard to write a pargnopper when you are nudging me. No, go find someone else to torture and make pet you.

Where was I? Oh, yes, standing on top of a lightning pole...er, I meant to say telephone pole. Which is an inside joke with my family--only, I've forgotten it. All I remember of the joke is 'telephone pole'. I was standing on one.

Storms! Lookit that! The clouds seem to be making up for their lost time this summer. Silence, wind, silence, sprinkle, and so on...

Glory mornings, they say--or morning glories, that is. But the only thing glorious to me in the mornings is the snooze button and sleep.

The Shadows is Returning...No, that isn't it. Is The Shadow Returning? No...Well, yes, but that isn't the title, I mean. The Returning Shadows? No...Oh! I've got it!...it's...uh.... Oh! I have it now! 'The Return of the Shadow'. Hobbitized Strider with wooden shoes and all that. No, really--if you've read it, this makes sense.

Oh! Oh! Oh! The 'Secret Butterfly'. Oh, no--it was 'the Chocolate Butterfly' or something like that. No, not a book title--I never do two things twice. Plus--it is 'secret'--so if you are my sister, comment if you wish, but don't tell the meaning of the butterfly.

Phew! This is exhuasting, and I must go and arm-spar with my sister and make my arm red and partially bruised. It is worth it, though--all of the banging is fun, but for the alas! humidity.

So, anyway, I hope you left here feeling drained or refreshed. And if you didn't read this, SHAME ON YOU!

Oh, and one more thing before I skedaddle off into the Blue; if anyone can tell me how tall a flobbit is compared to a teelopsy, you get a gold star for doing useless math. :D

--
Jake

WAIT!...

...Don't get eaten by rabbits.

--
Jake

Writing, Dragons, and Such

I am a fantasy writer. What comes to your mind when the word, or genre, 'Fantasy' is mentioned? LOTR, dragons, etc.

In my novel, especially the first one, the presence of dwarves and dragons are noted (no, there are no Elves). They participate in the plot to a much lesser degree in my two other novels, however. Now, my question to you, my readers, is this; do you think writers (especially beginning ones) should use such species and characters like dragons, wizards, dwarves, elves, etc.?

I may post my opinion on this sometime later. For now, I'll leave that hanging in the air. :)

--
Jake

Sometimes Life is Not Fair...

...And sometimes it kicks you and rubs salt into the wound.

Recently there was a concert nearby; Rock the Lights, I believe it was called. It had awesome bands like Skillet, TFK, MercyMe, etc. Unfortunately, it cost a small fortune, so I was unable to go. I really would've liked to, as TFK and Skillet are two of my favorite bands.

Now, my dad does not like Skillet at ALL. If 'Awake and Alive' comes on the radio, he turns it off. He compared that song to Chinese--he said the 'Waking-up" part had an accent.

If ANY Skillet song comes on the radio, he will reach over and nonchalantly turn it off or to a different station. Like I said; he and Skillet are like water and fire.

Now, Sunday morning comes (the Skillet part of the concert was that evening), and an Elder from our church that was organizing it (not that he was old or anything!) asked Dad to do something with security at the concert, getting a ticket for free--and he accepted.

Turns out, when he finally gets there (after buying a black T-shirt to look intimidating), he is put on crowd control. Which means he is closer to the bands than ANYONE ELSE. Oh my goodness. My sister sent me a text, after talking to Dad on the phone, that read like this;

"Dad is like this close to Skillet RIGHT NOW:
Dad Skillet"

Dad does not like Skillet. Dad gets to go to a Skillet concert and stand so close to the stage that when fire that bursts out of nowhere every time the band says 'Hero', he can feel it on the back of his neck. Dad says his ears are still ringing.

Like I said. Sometimes life is not fair...

...and sometimes lets your Dad go to a Skillet concert for free. :P Sheesh.

--
Jake

The Long-Promised Excerpt

Critique it. I beg you. :)

This is a snippet from my prologue. It's still undergoing revision, but for the most part it's one of the most revised and well-written parts of my novel.



Midnight shrouded Aleorendos in its choking sleep. The moons above it were wreathed in a strange haze that strangled the light out of them like a parasite, aiding the deeds of criminals that crept through the silent city beneath.

A man, dark and shadowy, stepped cautiously from an ornate palace door, somewhere in the center of Garajid. He warily glanced around him, looking for movement. A tense, taut expression hovered on his face--pursuit felt close. He could sense it. But seeing no one, he decided to chance it. Walking down the deserted street, he kept to the shadows that the four moons cast.

"They'd better be there on time," the man muttered to himself darkly. The dim moonlight danced shadows across the man's cruel, hard face as he walked along, rendering his sinister likeness even more evil. His black cloak swirled around him in the breeze--it had a chill to it, a promise of colder weather yet to come.

The man turned down a dark alleyway. The tall buildings above him gave shadow and secrecy, veiling the moonlight. He waited impatiently.

Above him, the moons slipped in and out of the clouds, peeking down on the man like a stern judge. The man shivered. Under the gaze of the moons--and ultimately, Saar--his motives seemed cheap and worthless. Why are you doing this? the wind seemed to breathe.

Even as doubt began to creep into his blackened heart, the man hardened it. Things are set in motion that cannot be undone. I must go through with this. The man's mind wandered. And then there is...the crown. Desire gripped him again, desire that had been awakened by whispered words in the night. Words whispered by a servant of the Darkness. Words that could not be denied, once they had taken ahold of his heart and blackened it with his Master's evil.
The sound of footsteps on stone jerked the man back into the fateful night.

A hulking man stepped out in front of him, from nowhere, it seemed. Unfazed, the man stood impassively, waiting for the man to speak.

"I have the men ready, Your Majesty," said the hulking figure, moving uncomfortably under the black-cloaked man's piercing gaze.

"Do not speak the title just yet," the black-cloaked man hissed, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the man, "It is bad luck to do so before it is true." But soon it will be.

The other man bowed his head in submission. "Forgive me, my liege."

Five other men came from the various shadows, swords at their sides and a grim look in their tattooed faces. These were the thugs to do his dirty work, as promised by the Master.

The black-cloaked man silently led the men back the way he had came, a cruel smile beginning to grow on his face. His plans would soon be fulfilled, and then there would be no one to stop him from achieving his goal; the throne.



Did you like it? Feel free to post your opinion in a comment!

And here is another; the Story of the Sadaar is its name. It was spoken by the son of King Ladar. The reason I'm posting this one is because I recently reached 30,000 words on my third novel as well; and this is from 'Sadaar', my third novel.



"Long ago, when the world was yet young, Saar reached down to the earth and chose seventy-seven of his faithful followers.

"'I give you a choice,' Saar said to them. 'A choice. You may serve me, as you have been doing, on the earth among other men like you, leading your everyday lives according to My law. Or, you can choose to serve me in a greater way, forsaking the earth's ways, and become one who can see many things hidden to others. If you choose this, let it be known that you will not be in favor with the peoples of the earth. They will be afraid of you, and mock you, calling you a magician and a sorcerer. But you will also be close to Me, and I will give you words to speak. You would be my envoy to the nations, a prophetic voice to the earth. Choose. If you choose nay, you will be sent back to your homes on the earth.'

"Each and every one of the followers chose yes. They became envoys from Saar to the world. They married, and had children, each of them having the same gift of their fathers and mothers.

"In time they became known as the Sadaar. Saar enabled them to be able to sense danger, fight like a lion, and to use power, known to the peoples of the earth as magic.

"But sorrow overcame the seventy-seven. Like a raven, the Evil One of the world picked them off, one by one, using the evil peoples of the earth like a tool.

"Each of the Sadaar, before they died, were given a choice. The choice was simple; join the Evil One or die.

"And each of the Sadaar refused, trusting in Saar alone. They and their descendants were hunted down and put to death.

"In all the world, there were only six Sadaar left, they and their clans. They met together, and Saar told each of them to go in hiding, so that they might serve his purposes later on.

"Many famous, blazing prophets came from the line of the Seven, Seisa, Osloi, and Kedus to name a few.

"There now has not been a Sadaar seen in three hundred years. Most have thought that the Evil One had finally accomplished his goal, but the last prophet, Kedus, prophesied that another would come, one that would be from the direct line of the Seven.

"Kedus died at the hand of King Akkas of Paladain, saying the words, 'In the darkness of days shall come one who will shine a light before all people.' And those words the believers of Saar and the followers of the Sadaar cling to, even to this day."

--
Jake

MATH?! And I Feel Freezing

As I write this, my fingers are protesting and slow, and I feel that fall is not far away. :) Lovely weather we're having in KS...

As for math...well, this poem should sum up my day. XD No, I'm not turning poet--I'm a writer first and formost when it comes to words. But I am managing to get better at random poems--spur-of-the-moment stuff especially. :)


How I Lost My Sanity

Math, math, hurts my head,
It invades my dreams,
It disturbs my bed,
My insanity, it seems,
Is bursting at the seams!

Algebra, though, is even better,
It bashes my mind,
Making swim the letter,
And now I'm in a bind;
It invades my mind, I find.

Out goes memory fine!
Out flies my sanity thin!
I don't want ye to think I whine,
But like a shark reveals its fin,
I find my mind is caving in!

Out flies my mind, beaten,
Blowing up in glorious flash
Math, it seems, has finally eaten,
Math, is seems, has finally smashed,
My mind, which has finally crashed.

It's nice, however, to finally see,
The sky above my eyes,
My mind is finally free,
Free from Math's evil spies,
Free from Algebra's cries.

The only thing missing (besides my vanity)
That one thing that now useless seems,
My finally broken sanity;
Wild and adventurous roving dreams,
Have finally broken Sanity's seams.

--
Jake

Good Weather Again! And a Lament

No matter what the heat, good weather (namely, cool weather, cloudy weather, rainy weather, and wintertime) will come again! :)

And so it has. The temp has dropped dramatically, and even as I write this the first drops of rain from a windy thunderstorm begin to fall. :) I love this weather!

I'm reading two series right now, BOTB (Binding of the Blade) and...uh, I forgot what the series is called for a moment (it's the algebra that's making me lose my memory!), but I reviewed the first book on my blog, Across the Face of the World. But I have to go to the library to retrieve the last book, and I have until 9:00 Central Time to get it. :) The race has begun.

But other than personal stuff, I don't have much to discuss. I recently wrote a lament for a certain city that is going to fall in an upcoming novel (I really like to plan ahead!), so perhaps I'll share the rough draft of it with you; I'm planning to edit it later. Refine it would be a better phrase. :)


A Lament for Jiliasil
Composer; An Unknown Sadaar


Over the horizon comes the Dawn,
Bringing with it hope and light,
Over a city the azure Sky yawns,
Driving out the hanging night.

It shines over a battle's reward,
Blood-red shines the sun on over,
Jiliasil has been put to the sword,
The Golden Age of the Sadaar is over.

O for the streaming banners bright,
That had once flung their emblems high,
Jiliasil has lost its fight,
Its people are on the fly.

O for the strong walls tall!
Standing against many a might,
But yet let Jiliasil fall,
It has fallen under night.

O for the marketplaces great,
Goods and cloth and wares,
But even these have met their fate,
And Jiliasil despairs.

O for the towers tall and strong!
Shining white among the Sun,
But e'en in there sings no song,
For its people have fled and run.

O Jiliasil Great! Sadaar's stronghold,
Fallen from glory and fame are ye,
But your walls are broken, as was foretold,
And your people have left to flee.

--
Jake

Tolkien's Prophetic Poetic Proficiency

This is one of my favorite Tolkien poems, partially because it has an aurora of mystery and age to it. It's in LOTR, referring to Aragorn.


"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."


I found this on Wikipedia, since I didn't want to have to find it and then manually write it onto the computer. Interestingly enough, I found that there was an earlier version to it, though it isn't quite as flowing and mysterious.


"All that is gold does not glitter;
all that is long does not last;
All that is old does not wither;
not all that is over is past.
Not all that have fallen are vanquished;
a king may yet be without crown,
A blade that was broken be brandished;
and towers that were strong may fall down."

Here's another Tolkienish poem. In LOTR, Theóden says this just before they charge into the fray to break the siege around Minas Tirith.


"Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"


And there's one more of my favorites. Actually, three. The major favorite and two lesser. Guess what they are and win a gold star! ;)

--
Jake

The Random Thoughts of Ejaka of the Sadaar

Be warned! This is a dangerous collection of dangerous thoughts about dangerous things that is dangerously wrong. Is your head refusing to interperate the dangerouses now? Good.


THE PRICKLY FIRST SECTION


Now, this section is pure prickly. Beware.


It is about...a play on words. And wordplay. And weird excerpts.


With the the playing of the words done (what? I didn't say I'd DO wordplay; I just made the words play), I'll give you a strange excerpt from an even stranger story.



Back, long ago, long before your great-grandparents' great grandparents were born, back when dragons still roamed the earth, when people did not have guns and resorted to hacking each other to pieces with swords instead, there lived a short, bald man in a small thatch-roof cottage.

This particular man had a habit of smoking his pipe on his porch at eight o'clock sharp. He lived quite happily, except for the nuisance of the dog next door. It barked like mad every morning, always watching the smoke drift upward in a spiral. The smell, too, enticed it and drove it crazy.

Presently, at eight o'clock, the man--his name was Rilo-- sat down on his creaky old rocking chair and smoked his pipe.

"O," he said with a sigh, "Ol' Eighty. Best smoke around." Rilo was smoking it, as he considered the present day a great one indeed.

Some time back, when the honeysuckle covered every clearing in sight, he looked on
the field one day and said, "This be a fine one. The Lord has outdone himself." He marked the day, deciding to take a smoke of Ol' Eighty, his finest harvest, on that day in remembrance.
That sunshiny day was four seasons ago to the day, and Rilo had cracked open the small cask of Ol' Eighty for the first time that morn.

Rilo decided that it was his finest harvest ever.

Just then, the Dog next door began barking. "Oi! What's that smell?" he panted in Doggish. But, of course, Rilo couldn't understand Doggish, as he was a human.

The smell curled up in the Dog's nose, and he took a deep whiff. "Ah," he sighed. He stopped, his doggy mouth open in surprise. "I am speaking Humanese!" the Dog exclaimed, shaking his fur in astonishment.

Rile, too, was open-mouthed. "You a-mean that you was a Talking Dog all this time?" Rile asked.

The Dog's feelings were ruffled. "Talking Dog? Talking Dogs be the worstest Dogs there ever been! Stuck-up, just because they could make different soundses in their throats!"

Rilo was puzzled. "Then what are you, Dog?"

The Dog jumped up on the fence. "I am Sir Muffle, son of Sir Tuffle, whose grandfather fought a dragon and lived! Which he got knighted for by the Doggish Committee of Tussling."

Rilo wondered at that. "He did?"

Sir Muffle made a snorting noise. "Well... It was a baby dragon."

Rilo shrugged, and glanced at his sundial. "Tis time to break my fast. Farewell, Sir Muffle."

Sir Muffle scrabbled at the fence. "Could you share? I am hungry."

"No."

Sir Muffle whined. "Please?"

"No." Rilo's flimsy door slammed shut.

Sir Muffle, put off by Rilo's reply, curled up by the fence for a good sunbathing. After all, not only the hated Cats needed the sun.


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


Far, far, far away, there also lived an old, strong dragon, who, incidentally, has something to do with this story.

Legend has it that when this dragon was born, he ate his eggshell, belched, and said, "More." Since then, the dragon has shown a remarkable tendency to eat everything edible, grow stronger, and hoard large quantities of gold--all admirable traits in draconic society. Also, he hasn't ever gotten a stomachache.

The cats of the known world name him 'Flame', whereas the dogs name him simply 'Eater'. Fortunately for this story, the dragons and Men alike name him much more originally; Teghaw.
Now, as it happens, on the day that old Rilo began smoking 'Ol Eighty (which was to go down in history as a historic day and marked as the beginning of the decline of dragons), Teghaw was chewing on the bone of the Patriarch of a nearby town--who managed to dig out his rusty old sword and throw it into the river before being eaten. This, however, may be too much information to the weak of heart, so let it be sufficient to say that the Patriarch died in a horribly unpleasant manner.

Presently, the great Wyrm finished his bone and went to go and lie on his bed of jewels, gold, and who else knows what. He noted, however that a gold coin and one of his favorite tiny diamonds (he had thousands of them, but he only had a dozen or so favorites) were missing and promptly flew into a towering rage.


Dragon-historians, chronologists, and general knowledgeable people all agree on the fact that the dragons know, at all times, the location of everything that belongs to them in their hoard, down to the last penny. Unfortunately, this has never been proved, as most of the brave (but obviously stupid) dracologists have been eaten.


Teghaw perceived that there was no tracks in the room and realized that the guilty thief must have been a bird, one of the annoying jackdaws most likely. So, images of death, rage, fire, and doom upon that poor, stupid jackdaw searing through Teghaw's mind, he set off to search the winds for news of his prey. Which, fortunately for the Towns nearby, and unfortunately for the dragon, eventually led to his doom.


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


Meanwhile, Rilo was about to shoot the Dog. With a bow.

However, Rilo did not own a bow, so he let the thought go and instead shot verbal versions of the sort at the eloquent, ever-talking Sir Muffle, which had awoken from his nap.

"Shut thy trap, O Dog! Thy tongue is long as the day, and it presently grows tiresome!" Rilo waxed eloquent and kingly in his speech when in a rage worthy of a King.

Sir Muffle jumped up, setting his front paws on the fence. "Traps are bad."

Rilo very nearly screamed his frustration, and stormed into his house, violently slamming his door, where it promptly tore the hinges out of the door-frame and crashed to the deck.

A slightly muffled "Ooh..." from Sir Muffle came through the window.


Comment, if you will.



THE STINGING SECOND SECTION

This section may sting you, so if you are on a laptop that is in your lap, I'd recommend putting it on a table where it won't sting you.


I have brought to you today...a plot. Or the start of one. Feel free to steal it to make a novel/la out of it. :D


******

Single widower is at work, working late. His teenage son, who is alone at home, calls and asks him if he's coming home soon. As he's replying, a unearthly shriek sounds through the phone, and the phone line goes dead.

The man calls his son back, but instead of his son who anwers, strange words, spoken by a deep voice, greets his ear--and then hangs up. He attempts another call, but there's no answer.

The man hurries out of his work to his car--but the car is gone. No one is in sight--everyone else at the place, save for the few night-workers on the other side of the sizable building, have long since gone home.


******



THE DANGEROUS THIRD SECTION


This section is extremely dangerous. Read on at your own risk.







...Rabbits. See previous post.


--
Jake

How You Know You're a Tolkien Fanatic

1. You own the Silmarillion, the Hobbit, and Lord of the Rings at least, not counting the other publications. ~(Let's see, There's Book of Lost Tales I and II, The Lays of Beleriand, the Shaping of Middle-Earth, the...)

2. You own the Extended Edition of the LOTR movies. ~"Fly, you fools!"

3. You either read or watch LOTR at least once a year. ~"Eh? You want me to take the trash out? But I'm at a good part! Galadriel, who was, incidentially, one of the Noldor, who sailed across the Sea because of Feänor, the son of the King Finwë, just gave Frodo..."

4. You are constantly quoting both the books and the movies--not to mention epic spoofs. ~"Dark have been my Teenage Writer posts of late."

5. You puzzle over the LOTR Appendices. ~"Was it Arvedui who was the last King of Arthedain, or did Arthedain end before then, destroyed by the Witch-King of Angmar? I can't remember."

6. You have looked into learning Quenya. ~"Wait--consonants written twice are pronounced long??"

7. You try to get your siblings to read the books--or at least watch the movies. ~"What do you mean you want to learn Quenya with me? You haven't even read the books!"

8. You try to speak 'Tolkienish' every once and a while. ~"Lo! I cometh out of the Far West to taketh out the trash."

9. Your parents tease you about your fanaticism. ~"You know what the first sign of a Lord of the Rings fanatic is? You use L-O-T-R instead of Lord of the Rings."

10. You compare awesome things to Tolkien. ~"Wow, Mom, if J. R. R. Tolkien cooked ham, it would've tasted just like that!"

Hoped you enjoyed this little list I cooked up. XD That last quote was my Dad's.


--
Jake

The Terrible Challenge of...Rabbits

Recently the rabbits in my backyard have challenged me to a duel, which I politely and firmly refused. After all, rabbits are some of the most dangerous beings that walk...er, hop, on this earth. They insulted me, but I am no King Eärnil... but these are worse than any Ringwraith.

"You'd be surprised at how many [people] die from mad rabbits these days" ~Angela the Herbalist in Brisingr by Christopher Paolini. (may be slightly paraphrased)

To quote various SPAM pop-up windows, "THIS IS NOT A JOKE", only, you aren't the 1,000,000,000th visitor to this site; you are about to be WARNED.

There are various kinds of killer rabbits.
-The 'Hoppers'--these are the kinds you often find in your backyard. Dangerous--run on sight. Or find a killer Chihuahua.
-The Alice Rabbits--only slightly dangerous. They may throw glass at you, or hit you with a book.
-The Monty Python Rabbits--if you see one of these, you're dead already. If you hear a rumor that one is nearby, move to Mexico.

In fact, it is probably best to live on a houseboat--but you must look out for killer rabbitfish.

However, if you wish to be extremely stupidly brave, here are some ways and weaknesses around killer rabbits.


1)
Watch out for their teeth and talons


Two of their weapons most deadly are the teeth and the talons. If they get close enough, they'll spring at you and gash you until you fall to the ground...and then...Never mind.

2)
Don't let them...

...lull you into a sense that they aren't dangerous...'cause they're so CUTE! Aww.... Oh, yeah. Back to topic.

3)
Their Most Deadly Weapon...

...is their breath. Men call it the Breath of Death (how poetic!), while deer call it the Carnivorous Vapors of Doom, and dogs call it the Dangerousbreathlikepoisonthatwillkillyou. Me, however? I call it... rabbit breath.


So you're trying to 'slay the rabbit'? Forget about it, and go home. Write a blog post or something... just stay away from rabbits.

--
Jake