An: did anyone else but me wonder about Touchstone's life before he got
turned into wood? What if in the books Sabriel wasn't the only time
Touchstone and Sabriel had met? That was my inspiration for this story. I
searched through my books but I couldn't remember if Touchstone's real name
had ever been given. If it had, feel free to tell me ;) anywaz enjoy!
Please review afterward!! gets down on hands and knees PLEASE PLEASE
PLEASE PLEASE!!!! (I'm not too proud to beg!!!)
Ah! The changing of the guard! How a little boy with tight brown curls wished he could join them. They had it all. The colourful uniforms with the swords and the marching. He could feel his little hands itching to grasp a sword hilt. Sure, he and Rogir had the little wooden swords that their mother had given them but the mock sword fights they had never lasted long. Rogir would start complaining and suggest that they find a different game to play. Even though he didn't really want to, Torrigan would just shrug and sheath his sword in his belt and go along with whatever Rogir said.
He sighed as he leaned against the window sill. His tutor was going on about some war that happened at sometime in some odd place. Normally he was a good student but he just could not focus today. Rogir was sitting straight. His attention on the tutor. To the casual observer Rogir was the ideal pupil, but Torrigan knew better. Rogir was probably thinking up some scheme or trick that would be a lot of fun but most definitely get them into some kind of trouble.
"Torrigan!" the sharp voice of his tutor cut through his reverie, "do you intend to daydream through the day?" Instead of responding with some smart aleck comment Torrigan turned my attention back on the tutor. What was it Rogir always called him? Oh yes! Captain Boring. Torrigan smiled in remembrance and paid attention for the rest of the class.
Several days later, it was the day of Midsummer's Eve and everyone of the palace servants were shuffling to and fro with decorations of flowers and some with steaming pots of food. The Queen had wanted a feast like no other. Rumor had it that many important dignitaries from all over the Old Kingdom and some from across the Sea where coming. The Abhorsen had of course been invited but was unsure if the Dead would stay in death long enough for him to join in the festivities (he replied with a chuckle).
Torrigan was out in the Courtyard practicing with his wooden sword. This was getting ridiculous! He was almost 10 years of age and still he was not allowed to practice with real swords! He of course had pleaded to his mother who had flatly refused him. Maybe if I get good enough, I will be able to use real swords! The young prince had been dedicated to the fighting arts since he was but a tyke. Sometimes he wished Kerrigor was a bit more like himself. More interested in swords and other such weapons than in coming up with schemes. Not to get him wrong, he dearly loved his half-brother and best playmate but that love could not make the doubts go away.
"Torrigan dear," one of his mother's ladies in waiting approached him, "Your mother wishes to speak with you." The young prince knew better than to keep his mother waiting so he dashed past the lady and up the stone steps.
The Queen Rachelle sat weaving to keep her mind occupied. Her ladies sat gossiping happily about the newest handsome young nobleman who had stolen so-and so's heart. Some half worked on needle point, others finished up their dresses for the evening. Poor Torrigan was surrounded by such femininity as he entered his mother's chambers. He stared wide-eyed like a deer caught by the hunter, the few fatal moments before the arrow hit. Cautiously he inched his way over to his mother, resplendent in a royal purple.
"Ah! Torrigan darling," Queen Rachelle smiled and reached a hand out to greet her son, "I have a special duty for you." This was a clever female trap, he just knew it. He looked around the room quickly. His two half- sisters were smiling pleasantly at him which drew up his guard even more.
"What sort of duty mother?" Torrigan questioned cautiously.
Queen Rachelle smiled indulgently at her son, "The Abhorsen is attending this evening and is bringing his daughter with him. She's not much younger than you so I want you and Rogir to keep her occupied with I talk with her father."
"Yes mother," Torrigan said. Oh no! A girl! Girls just got in the way; they always wanted to play with their dolls when you wanted to play knights!
Ah! The changing of the guard! How a little boy with tight brown curls wished he could join them. They had it all. The colourful uniforms with the swords and the marching. He could feel his little hands itching to grasp a sword hilt. Sure, he and Rogir had the little wooden swords that their mother had given them but the mock sword fights they had never lasted long. Rogir would start complaining and suggest that they find a different game to play. Even though he didn't really want to, Torrigan would just shrug and sheath his sword in his belt and go along with whatever Rogir said.
He sighed as he leaned against the window sill. His tutor was going on about some war that happened at sometime in some odd place. Normally he was a good student but he just could not focus today. Rogir was sitting straight. His attention on the tutor. To the casual observer Rogir was the ideal pupil, but Torrigan knew better. Rogir was probably thinking up some scheme or trick that would be a lot of fun but most definitely get them into some kind of trouble.
"Torrigan!" the sharp voice of his tutor cut through his reverie, "do you intend to daydream through the day?" Instead of responding with some smart aleck comment Torrigan turned my attention back on the tutor. What was it Rogir always called him? Oh yes! Captain Boring. Torrigan smiled in remembrance and paid attention for the rest of the class.
Several days later, it was the day of Midsummer's Eve and everyone of the palace servants were shuffling to and fro with decorations of flowers and some with steaming pots of food. The Queen had wanted a feast like no other. Rumor had it that many important dignitaries from all over the Old Kingdom and some from across the Sea where coming. The Abhorsen had of course been invited but was unsure if the Dead would stay in death long enough for him to join in the festivities (he replied with a chuckle).
Torrigan was out in the Courtyard practicing with his wooden sword. This was getting ridiculous! He was almost 10 years of age and still he was not allowed to practice with real swords! He of course had pleaded to his mother who had flatly refused him. Maybe if I get good enough, I will be able to use real swords! The young prince had been dedicated to the fighting arts since he was but a tyke. Sometimes he wished Kerrigor was a bit more like himself. More interested in swords and other such weapons than in coming up with schemes. Not to get him wrong, he dearly loved his half-brother and best playmate but that love could not make the doubts go away.
"Torrigan dear," one of his mother's ladies in waiting approached him, "Your mother wishes to speak with you." The young prince knew better than to keep his mother waiting so he dashed past the lady and up the stone steps.
The Queen Rachelle sat weaving to keep her mind occupied. Her ladies sat gossiping happily about the newest handsome young nobleman who had stolen so-and so's heart. Some half worked on needle point, others finished up their dresses for the evening. Poor Torrigan was surrounded by such femininity as he entered his mother's chambers. He stared wide-eyed like a deer caught by the hunter, the few fatal moments before the arrow hit. Cautiously he inched his way over to his mother, resplendent in a royal purple.
"Ah! Torrigan darling," Queen Rachelle smiled and reached a hand out to greet her son, "I have a special duty for you." This was a clever female trap, he just knew it. He looked around the room quickly. His two half- sisters were smiling pleasantly at him which drew up his guard even more.
"What sort of duty mother?" Torrigan questioned cautiously.
Queen Rachelle smiled indulgently at her son, "The Abhorsen is attending this evening and is bringing his daughter with him. She's not much younger than you so I want you and Rogir to keep her occupied with I talk with her father."
"Yes mother," Torrigan said. Oh no! A girl! Girls just got in the way; they always wanted to play with their dolls when you wanted to play knights!