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piosenniel · 09-03-2005, 09:38 AM

Arry’s post

Skald was in two minds about this trap that Bror had set. It was elaborate, ingenious, even. A worthy response, indeed, from the baby brother. It had only taken him fifty years or so to bring the art of practical joking to this new pinnacle.

And best of all, to Skald’s way of thinking, it had rebounded on Bror in a way much better than any revenge Skald might come up with. The silly git had neglected the first rule of practical joking – make sure the target you aim for will be the one you hit. He chuckled quietly as he fussed about with the web of cords that entangled his older brother. Riv, for his part, was red in the face, his eyes narrowed dangerously, as he twirled like some great last leaf of autumn on its spindly stem.

‘Who do you think taught me the art of playing tricks on someone?’ came the muffled question from Skald as he fished about for the right rope to cut. He’d turned his head back for a moment to see who’d crept into the room behind him. ‘You are dead, little brother, so-oo-oo dead!’

He reached up with his knife and began to saw on a likely looking cord . . .

-------------------------------------------------

Pio’s post

‘By the King’s long beard! Stop your yammering and get me down from here! Or you’ll both be dead!’

Riv took a swat at Skald’s shoulder to emphasize his point. The motion, however, did nothing but make him sway on the cord and swivel about precariously. This only made him more angry, and he bellowed out a few more blazing incentives for his quick release.

‘And you!’ he growled dangerously at Bror. ‘This is all your doing, isn’t it? Get over here and show the plodder here what he needs to do.’ He put his hands to his already pounding head and shook it. ‘How is it that I am saddled with such fools for brothers?’

‘Perhaps you should not say such things about your rescuer,’ Skald mumbled, his knife sawing at one of the taut lines.

Riv glared at what he could see of his younger brother. ‘Rescuer? I wouldn’t be in this fix if you and Bror were not always trying to one-up each other!’ He swung round to where Bror was standing. His youngest brother’s eyes were wide as he stared at Skald, his finger pointing in a trembling manner. Gibbering sounds were coming from him. ‘And now what is the matter?’ Riv asked, frowning. ‘Tell me . . . wha . . .’

The command was cut off as Skald’s knife severed the rope. It slid through his hands like quick-fire as he tried to catch it, burning them raw with its passage.

Riv hit the floor with a hard thump. He’d twisted enough to land on his shoulder, the poor joint jammed against the unforgiving stone floor with all the heft of his body behind it. He cursed as he tried to get up, a sharp pain coursing through his left chest. Skald stood waving his rope burnt palms in the air, hurling loud invectives of his own.

‘What is going on you three? You’ve wakened us all with your yelling?’ Unna had come running from her and Riv’s quarters when she’d heard the raised voices. Her hair was all undone, her eyes still puffy from sleep. In her haste, she’d thrown on her husband’s robe and now stood pulling it closer about her as she gazed at the scene in the kitchen. ‘At tricks again! When will you ever grow up?’

Leifr peeked around the length of her robe, wide-eyed at the cursing and the tangled heap his father was in. ‘Papi? Are you alright?’ he whispered.

‘I’ll be alright in a moment,’ Riv said, trying to gather his wits about him, not wanting to frighten his son. ‘Maybe you and Mami can fetch me a little something to drink. I’m thirsty.’ Leifr nodded his head slowly and tugged on Unna’s hand. ‘Your uncles, here, can just give me a hand up.’ He waved off his wife and son, then motioned for Bror and Skald. ‘Gently does it,’ he grunted softly as they helped him up to a chair at the table. Sharp pain lanced through his left shoulder whenever it was moved. By the time he was seated, his face was pale and slick with sweat. With his right fist he grasped Bror and drew him near, whispering so that Unna and Leifr did not hear.

‘Get the healer. Tell him I think my collarbone is broken.’ He winced as he drew a deep breath and nodded for Bror to be off.

09-03-2005, 09:38 AM	#110
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Arry’s post Skald was in two minds about this trap that Bror had set. It was elaborate, ingenious, even. A worthy response, indeed, from the baby brother. It had only taken him fifty years or so to bring the art of practical joking to this new pinnacle. And best of all, to Skald’s way of thinking, it had rebounded on Bror in a way much better than any revenge Skald might come up with. The silly git had neglected the first rule of practical joking – make sure the target you aim for will be the one you hit. He chuckled quietly as he fussed about with the web of cords that entangled his older brother. Riv, for his part, was red in the face, his eyes narrowed dangerously, as he twirled like some great last leaf of autumn on its spindly stem. ‘Who do you think taught me the art of playing tricks on someone?’ came the muffled question from Skald as he fished about for the right rope to cut. He’d turned his head back for a moment to see who’d crept into the room behind him. ‘You are dead, little brother, so-oo-oo dead!’ He reached up with his knife and began to saw on a likely looking cord . . . ------------------------------------------------- Pio’s post ‘By the King’s long beard! Stop your yammering and get me down from here! Or you’ll both be dead!’ Riv took a swat at Skald’s shoulder to emphasize his point. The motion, however, did nothing but make him sway on the cord and swivel about precariously. This only made him more angry, and he bellowed out a few more blazing incentives for his quick release. ‘And you!’ he growled dangerously at Bror. ‘This is all your doing, isn’t it? Get over here and show the plodder here what he needs to do.’ He put his hands to his already pounding head and shook it. ‘How is it that I am saddled with such fools for brothers?’ ‘Perhaps you should not say such things about your rescuer,’ Skald mumbled, his knife sawing at one of the taut lines. Riv glared at what he could see of his younger brother. ‘Rescuer? I wouldn’t be in this fix if you and Bror were not always trying to one-up each other!’ He swung round to where Bror was standing. His youngest brother’s eyes were wide as he stared at Skald, his finger pointing in a trembling manner. Gibbering sounds were coming from him. ‘And now what is the matter?’ Riv asked, frowning. ‘Tell me . . . wha . . .’ The command was cut off as Skald’s knife severed the rope. It slid through his hands like quick-fire as he tried to catch it, burning them raw with its passage. Riv hit the floor with a hard thump. He’d twisted enough to land on his shoulder, the poor joint jammed against the unforgiving stone floor with all the heft of his body behind it. He cursed as he tried to get up, a sharp pain coursing through his left chest. Skald stood waving his rope burnt palms in the air, hurling loud invectives of his own. ‘What is going on you three? You’ve wakened us all with your yelling?’ Unna had come running from her and Riv’s quarters when she’d heard the raised voices. Her hair was all undone, her eyes still puffy from sleep. In her haste, she’d thrown on her husband’s robe and now stood pulling it closer about her as she gazed at the scene in the kitchen. ‘At tricks again! When will you ever grow up?’ Leifr peeked around the length of her robe, wide-eyed at the cursing and the tangled heap his father was in. ‘Papi? Are you alright?’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be alright in a moment,’ Riv said, trying to gather his wits about him, not wanting to frighten his son. ‘Maybe you and Mami can fetch me a little something to drink. I’m thirsty.’ Leifr nodded his head slowly and tugged on Unna’s hand. ‘Your uncles, here, can just give me a hand up.’ He waved off his wife and son, then motioned for Bror and Skald. ‘Gently does it,’ he grunted softly as they helped him up to a chair at the table. Sharp pain lanced through his left shoulder whenever it was moved. By the time he was seated, his face was pale and slick with sweat. With his right fist he grasped Bror and drew him near, whispering so that Unna and Leifr did not hear. ‘Get the healer. Tell him I think my collarbone is broken.’ He winced as he drew a deep breath and nodded for Bror to be off. Last edited by piosenniel; 09-08-2005 at 02:17 AM.