[Rimbaud]

"What ho," said Halfullion's mind to itself. It rarely got reply on such instances of internalised communication, yet had never ceased in its endeavours. "What ho, some rapscallion is claiming that I am a knight of the errant variety. We must do something about this...strapping...young whippersnapper."

"Pardon?" asked the Lord Etceteron, his blade faltering somewhat in the face of such undisguised moronity.

Realising he had vocalised his inner turmoil with some sheepish shame, Halfullion took an instinctive step backwards, and drew L'En'Viey Piennhas with something of a roar.

All were startled by Halfullion's apparent coughing fit, and Mersuwyniel went so far as to clap her Hero on the back with one of her sublimely dainty hands. However, the laughter that echoed around the garden was that of Etceteron, and he was looking directly at Halfullion's famous sword, now wavering a mere matter of inches before him.

With great scorn, the invading warrior shouted "This? This is the mighty sword L'En'Viey Piennhas, desired by all men and women alike?"

His scorn appeared justified, for the blade was short, indeed barely longer than a vegetable paring knife. "I will not fight you, sir! Arm yourself!" He looked about the garden, and spotted the two wooden practice foils, leaning against the marbled fountain. "I see you have been working out, Sir," he boomed anew. "It is not like the real thing, though, Sir! Indeed, doing it this way you may well go blind. Splinters and such, you see."

"I'll show you splinters, Sir," growled Halfullion ominously. He waggled his undersized sword of great repute for effect. Merisuwyniel disguised a smile, and instead gazed adoringly upon the mighty Lord Gormlessar, now revealed in all his wrath. She could not help an admiring glance or two at the fine figure of Etceteron, so forcibly come to their attention was he.

Halfullion squeezed his face in concentration and suddenly, with a blinding flash, his noble blade was a clear three feet long. Had Etceteron not so nimbly avoided the expanding weapon, he would surely have been skewered, as had his last, unfortunate, riding companion Keb Ab Fordinneragen. "Hah!" shouted Lord Gormlessar. "Now, Sir, let's have at you!"

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

"Hold!" came a clear and penetrating voice. The two swordsmen ceased the wary circling and turned their eyes to the fair Merisuwyniel. She lifted up one clear, smooth, pale, dainty, well-manicured, ashen, ashy, blanched, colorless, complexionless, doughy, lurid, pallid, paly, wan, waxen, delicate hand and the garden fell silent, even the birds in the tree. A slight humming could be heard coming from the two great swords as they sought to rear at each other.

"Your sense is weak, old friend, you should not have come," she said to the newcomer. Then she smiled, and looked squarely at the knight from the corner of her eye, which is a tricky feat, even if you toe the line. "Thank you for answering the call, Sir knight!"

"Er..." replied Etceteron, grandiosely.

Halfullion, realising that the Elf had the situation under control, lowered his blade fully.
"You know me, Mistress?" asked the Lord Etceteron.

Halfullion spoke for both himself and the bemused, on looking Orogarn Two, when he spake thus: "What new devilry is this? Dost thou know this vile and verminous vagabond, fair lady?"

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]