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The Knights of Tortall and the Holy Grail
By Caspian Nyghtvision
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Part Three
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DISCLAIMER: (HERALD staggers up to podium. Attempts to blow on flattened TRUMPET and fails miserably. Looks around nervously, unrolls scroll.) Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye. This disclaimer is the same as before, except the GIANT FOOT will be wearing high heels. (looks up in terror) NO! (GIANT FOOT descends.)
I absolutely had to use the word "antidisestablishmentarianisms" in this, even though it wasn't quite the right word. But how often to I get to use "antidisestablishmentarianisms?!" Oh, and I probably should tell you that yes, Owen pops up in every chapter to say "Jolly." He has to. And I don't know how Tamora Pierce dresses, so all of that was just conjecture.
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SCENE FOUR
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The clatter of hoofbeats rang across the land as King Jonathan rode up a hill. Behind him staggered his faithful steed Wyldon, grudgingly banging his coconuts. Jon held up his hand and paused, checking his imaginary horse. Wyldon ceased the coconuts and snorted.
Jon shaded his eyes with his hand as he stared out over the land. There was a small, family-sized castle looming in the distance. A few peasants were digging listlessly in the mud nearby. Nodding to his trusty horse, King Jon rode towards them.
"Old man!" Jon called out when they were within hailing distance of a strong-looking peasant, who was poking blearily at the dirt with a stick. The peasant dropped the stick, turned around, and folded muscular arms over a curvy chest.
Yes... a curvy chest. Jon blinked.
"Woman," Kel corrected with a raised eyebrow.
"Woman," Jon winced. "Sorry. From behind you looked --"
"Are. You. Insulting. My. Butt?" Kel growled, her voice rising dangerously.
"No, no, no!" King Jonathan said, flustered. "It's, er, a very nice butt."
"Are you harassing me?" Kel demanded.
"No! No, I'm not."
"And I'm not old, either! I'm in my twenties!"
"Well, from a distance, you looked..."
Jon trailed off as Kel looked critically at her rear end. Her head snapped up, and she glared at him.
"From behind I looked like an old man? Lovely. I'm sure you're QUITE popular with the ladies."
Regally, King Jon drew himself up to his full height. "Well, actually, I am. I AM king, you know!" He replied, looking down his nose in a Very Royal Manner.
"King, eh? Oh, very nice. I expect you've got a palace and courtiers and nice clothes and lovely food. AND HOW DID YOU GET THAT, EH?" Kel screamed suddenly. "By exploiting the workers! By hanging on to the outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the social and economic differences in our struggling and archaic society! If there's ever going to be any--"
She was interrupted by the arrival of another peasant. This one would never be mistaken for a man, not even from a distance, and not even if the viewer was legally blind. She had glossy black hair and huge brown eyes.
"Keladry," Lalasa said sweetly, "There's some lovely mud down here... Oh, how d'you do?"
"How do you do, good lady," King Jon said impressively. "I am Jonathan, King of the Tortallans. Can you tell me who lives in that castle over there?"
Lalasa blinked. "King of the WHO?"
"The Tortallans."
"The Tortoises?"
"The Tortallans!"
"Well, it sounds like the Tortoises," Lalasa said with the tone of someone very certain of their logic.
"I thought a Tortallan was a kind of pastry..." Kel mused.
"No. This country is Tortall, we are all Tortallans, and I am your King," Jonathan explained.
"I didn't know we had a king." Lalasa raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were an autonomous collective."
"You're fooling yourself," Keladry said darkly. "We're living in a dictatorship, a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes..."
"Oh, there you go, bringing class into it again," sighed another peasant woman, who had come up behind them. She had black hair and a crooked nose. "You and your antidisestablishmentarianisms..."
"... That's what it's all about, Thayet!" Kel retorted. "Class is the invisible divider which further serves to weaken our already crippled society!"
"No, it's all way the economy is structured," Thayet countered. "If there's one thing that has to change, it's the--"
Another peasant popped up randomly. "Jolly!"
"Please, please good peasants, I am in haste!" Jon interrupted. "Will you tell me who lives in that castle yonder?"
The peasants stopped arguing and glared at him. "No one lives there," Thayet told him.
"Well, then, where does your lord live?" Jon persisted.
"We don't have a lord," Lalasa responded, looking at him like he was a small repulsive creature that was clinging to her foot.
"What?!"
Keladry sighed. "I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune, taking it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week."
"Yes..." Jon said impatiently.
"But the decision of that officer---" Kel went on obliviously.
"Yes, I see," Jon interrupted.
"---Must be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in a case of purely internal affairs---"
"Be quiet!"
"--but a two-thirds majority --"
"Be quiet! I order you to shut up!" King Jon yelled.
"Order, eh?" Lalasa demanded. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I am your KING!"
"Well, I didn't vote for you," Thayet said off-handedly.
"You don't vote for kings!"
"Well, then, how did you get to be king?"
Jon struck a pose as a beam of light descended from the heavens and bathed him in its radiance. "Our Holy Lady Tamora Pierce..."
"Oh, brother," Kel muttered.
"... her arm clad in the purest shimmering cotton-spandex blend, held aloft the Dominion Jewel from the depths of her authorly imagination to signify that I, Jonathan, was to be your king!"
The light vanished abruptly as Jon lowered his arms. He scowled at the skeptical peasants. "That is why I am your king!"
"Is Neal here?" Thayet muttered. "He'd be able to deal with this one."
Kel sighed. "Look, strange women sitting in chairs writing books and handing out polished stones to random characters -- that's no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not a farcical fictional ceremony."
"Be quiet!" Jon shouted.
"You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some inky-fingered tart chucked a rock at you!" Thayet snorted.
"Shut up! I order you to shut up!"
"So if some ill-dressed literary chick threw a random bit of pressurized carbon at ME, I'd get to be the ruler of the world?"
"Be quiet, you peasants!"
"If ALL random five-cent authoresses were authorized to select their basis of government by running around flinging stones at people, where would our society be? It shouldn't be allowed!"
("Darn," Nyghtvision muttered, hiding a rock under her shirt. "They're onto me.")
Kel continued, "I mean, if I went around saying I was an Empress just because some bookish bint lobbed a pebble at me, they'd put me away!"
King Jon grabbed her by the collar. "Shut up! I ORDER you to shut up!"
She looked down at him, unfazed. "Oh, NOW we see the violence inherent in the system."
"Shut up!" Jon roared.
A large crowd of other peasants began to grow around them, interested at the proceedings.
"Come and see the violence inherent in the system!" Kel caroled. "Help, help, I'm being repressed!"
"Shut up! Bloody peasant!" Jonathan became aware of all the people watching and realized that it wasn't a very kingly thing to do. "Bloody peasant." He let go of Kel's collar and pushed her over into the mud.
"Oh, what a give-away. Did you see that?" Kel demanded of the other peasants.
"Come on, Patsy," Jon ordered his horse.
Wyldon glared at him darkly. "My NAME is WYLDON." He followed anyway, nickering resentfully and clopper-ing the coconuts together.
As the scene ended, Kel was helped to her feet by several other peasants. "Did you see him repressing me? That's what I'm on about..."
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CASPIAN NYGHTVISION STRIKES AGAIN
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That's probably my favorite scene in the whole movie...
Anyway. I have done my duty-- two chapters a week, no less -- so you do yours... *nudge nudge point point* You know, the little review button. No use posting the rest if no one wants to read it.
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The Knights of Tortall and the Holy Grail
By Caspian Nyghtvision
==========================================
--------------------------------------
Part Three
---------------------------------------
DISCLAIMER: (HERALD staggers up to podium. Attempts to blow on flattened TRUMPET and fails miserably. Looks around nervously, unrolls scroll.) Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye. This disclaimer is the same as before, except the GIANT FOOT will be wearing high heels. (looks up in terror) NO! (GIANT FOOT descends.)
I absolutely had to use the word "antidisestablishmentarianisms" in this, even though it wasn't quite the right word. But how often to I get to use "antidisestablishmentarianisms?!" Oh, and I probably should tell you that yes, Owen pops up in every chapter to say "Jolly." He has to. And I don't know how Tamora Pierce dresses, so all of that was just conjecture.
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SCENE FOUR
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The clatter of hoofbeats rang across the land as King Jonathan rode up a hill. Behind him staggered his faithful steed Wyldon, grudgingly banging his coconuts. Jon held up his hand and paused, checking his imaginary horse. Wyldon ceased the coconuts and snorted.
Jon shaded his eyes with his hand as he stared out over the land. There was a small, family-sized castle looming in the distance. A few peasants were digging listlessly in the mud nearby. Nodding to his trusty horse, King Jon rode towards them.
"Old man!" Jon called out when they were within hailing distance of a strong-looking peasant, who was poking blearily at the dirt with a stick. The peasant dropped the stick, turned around, and folded muscular arms over a curvy chest.
Yes... a curvy chest. Jon blinked.
"Woman," Kel corrected with a raised eyebrow.
"Woman," Jon winced. "Sorry. From behind you looked --"
"Are. You. Insulting. My. Butt?" Kel growled, her voice rising dangerously.
"No, no, no!" King Jonathan said, flustered. "It's, er, a very nice butt."
"Are you harassing me?" Kel demanded.
"No! No, I'm not."
"And I'm not old, either! I'm in my twenties!"
"Well, from a distance, you looked..."
Jon trailed off as Kel looked critically at her rear end. Her head snapped up, and she glared at him.
"From behind I looked like an old man? Lovely. I'm sure you're QUITE popular with the ladies."
Regally, King Jon drew himself up to his full height. "Well, actually, I am. I AM king, you know!" He replied, looking down his nose in a Very Royal Manner.
"King, eh? Oh, very nice. I expect you've got a palace and courtiers and nice clothes and lovely food. AND HOW DID YOU GET THAT, EH?" Kel screamed suddenly. "By exploiting the workers! By hanging on to the outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the social and economic differences in our struggling and archaic society! If there's ever going to be any--"
She was interrupted by the arrival of another peasant. This one would never be mistaken for a man, not even from a distance, and not even if the viewer was legally blind. She had glossy black hair and huge brown eyes.
"Keladry," Lalasa said sweetly, "There's some lovely mud down here... Oh, how d'you do?"
"How do you do, good lady," King Jon said impressively. "I am Jonathan, King of the Tortallans. Can you tell me who lives in that castle over there?"
Lalasa blinked. "King of the WHO?"
"The Tortallans."
"The Tortoises?"
"The Tortallans!"
"Well, it sounds like the Tortoises," Lalasa said with the tone of someone very certain of their logic.
"I thought a Tortallan was a kind of pastry..." Kel mused.
"No. This country is Tortall, we are all Tortallans, and I am your King," Jonathan explained.
"I didn't know we had a king." Lalasa raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were an autonomous collective."
"You're fooling yourself," Keladry said darkly. "We're living in a dictatorship, a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes..."
"Oh, there you go, bringing class into it again," sighed another peasant woman, who had come up behind them. She had black hair and a crooked nose. "You and your antidisestablishmentarianisms..."
"... That's what it's all about, Thayet!" Kel retorted. "Class is the invisible divider which further serves to weaken our already crippled society!"
"No, it's all way the economy is structured," Thayet countered. "If there's one thing that has to change, it's the--"
Another peasant popped up randomly. "Jolly!"
"Please, please good peasants, I am in haste!" Jon interrupted. "Will you tell me who lives in that castle yonder?"
The peasants stopped arguing and glared at him. "No one lives there," Thayet told him.
"Well, then, where does your lord live?" Jon persisted.
"We don't have a lord," Lalasa responded, looking at him like he was a small repulsive creature that was clinging to her foot.
"What?!"
Keladry sighed. "I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune, taking it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week."
"Yes..." Jon said impatiently.
"But the decision of that officer---" Kel went on obliviously.
"Yes, I see," Jon interrupted.
"---Must be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in a case of purely internal affairs---"
"Be quiet!"
"--but a two-thirds majority --"
"Be quiet! I order you to shut up!" King Jon yelled.
"Order, eh?" Lalasa demanded. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I am your KING!"
"Well, I didn't vote for you," Thayet said off-handedly.
"You don't vote for kings!"
"Well, then, how did you get to be king?"
Jon struck a pose as a beam of light descended from the heavens and bathed him in its radiance. "Our Holy Lady Tamora Pierce..."
"Oh, brother," Kel muttered.
"... her arm clad in the purest shimmering cotton-spandex blend, held aloft the Dominion Jewel from the depths of her authorly imagination to signify that I, Jonathan, was to be your king!"
The light vanished abruptly as Jon lowered his arms. He scowled at the skeptical peasants. "That is why I am your king!"
"Is Neal here?" Thayet muttered. "He'd be able to deal with this one."
Kel sighed. "Look, strange women sitting in chairs writing books and handing out polished stones to random characters -- that's no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not a farcical fictional ceremony."
"Be quiet!" Jon shouted.
"You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some inky-fingered tart chucked a rock at you!" Thayet snorted.
"Shut up! I order you to shut up!"
"So if some ill-dressed literary chick threw a random bit of pressurized carbon at ME, I'd get to be the ruler of the world?"
"Be quiet, you peasants!"
"If ALL random five-cent authoresses were authorized to select their basis of government by running around flinging stones at people, where would our society be? It shouldn't be allowed!"
("Darn," Nyghtvision muttered, hiding a rock under her shirt. "They're onto me.")
Kel continued, "I mean, if I went around saying I was an Empress just because some bookish bint lobbed a pebble at me, they'd put me away!"
King Jon grabbed her by the collar. "Shut up! I ORDER you to shut up!"
She looked down at him, unfazed. "Oh, NOW we see the violence inherent in the system."
"Shut up!" Jon roared.
A large crowd of other peasants began to grow around them, interested at the proceedings.
"Come and see the violence inherent in the system!" Kel caroled. "Help, help, I'm being repressed!"
"Shut up! Bloody peasant!" Jonathan became aware of all the people watching and realized that it wasn't a very kingly thing to do. "Bloody peasant." He let go of Kel's collar and pushed her over into the mud.
"Oh, what a give-away. Did you see that?" Kel demanded of the other peasants.
"Come on, Patsy," Jon ordered his horse.
Wyldon glared at him darkly. "My NAME is WYLDON." He followed anyway, nickering resentfully and clopper-ing the coconuts together.
As the scene ended, Kel was helped to her feet by several other peasants. "Did you see him repressing me? That's what I'm on about..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CASPIAN NYGHTVISION STRIKES AGAIN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's probably my favorite scene in the whole movie...
Anyway. I have done my duty-- two chapters a week, no less -- so you do yours... *nudge nudge point point* You know, the little review button. No use posting the rest if no one wants to read it.
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