AKC CGC

The Bishop and The Private came sprinting out of the training grounds, relief on the face of the latter, a proud smile lighting the former's visage. They raced past me at full speed, bounding on the trail near the woods.

The Lizard also exited, and seemed happy, but tired. I walked over to her, and asked, "I trust it went well?"

"It was amazing. The Private was the only student in her class to pass all the tests."

"Splendid!" I replied, "You led her well, then."

"That's the amazing thing, Genghis." She said, watching our compatriots celebrate near the trees. "When things seemed to be breaking apart, and I was getting nervous and frustrated, The Bishop suddenly took the lead, making course corrections as necessary. The Private took to his commands and executed... almost flawlessly!"

"The Bishop has been known to rise to the occasion when the chips are down, but I'd be willing to bet neither of them would have been successful if you hadn't provided your special recipe of hard work and communication." My comment made her astonishment turn to a full, and satisfied smile.

We continued to watch The Bishop and The Private gambol about, with a word of praise every now and then being tossed by The Lizard in their direction. It was good to see them happy, especially The Bishop, since so many days of recent past had been sorrowful for him.

"It's hard to comprehend that The Private will get promoted." I contemplated aloud.

"Comprehending won't be the problem. Putting up with The Bishop's pride in his protege' may be the issue, " she correctly noted.

Sisters of the Shinai

"They used what?" The Bishop seemed perplexed.

"A shinai. It's a practice sword."

"Yes, Genghis, I know what it is," he replied, "I was talking about the other 'weapon'. It seems so... strange."

"Well, apparently The Donut found the doors to her inner keep ajar. Quite concerned that a band of brigands had broken into her abode, she summoned The Lizard."

"Prudent, and I'm sure that the shinai was chosen as a weapon of opportunity," The Bishop said, then added, " but what were they going to do with that door to a dog crate?"

The Restless Vigil

The Private was on watch, and I listened to Sarge's labored breathing. A strange sickness had made camp outside the old soldier's seemingly impregnable defenses, threatening a long siege.

"Sarge seems to be resting better now," I commented, eyes only half open, attempting to find myself a comfortable spot on the floor in the chill, dim common room.

"Hopefully The Lizard is resting too. She doesn't need to worry about one of her soldiers, or be turmoiled while performing her duties with the other leaders on the morrow." The Bishop was uncharacteristically calm and forgiving after being woken from our deep sleep.

I remembered The Lizard's worried sobs earlier in the night as she attempted in vain to minister to her old friend. Normally decisive, worry clouding her mind, she had asked us if we should take Sarge, in the dead of night, to The Triage. "They helped before, when wounds were great," she had reminded us.

The Bishop had looked thoughtful, assessed the situation, and noted to our compatriot: "Sarge is not in as dire circumstances as she was then, and all might be best served if we hold action till morning. Let Genghis and I watch over her till sun-up, so that you might rest for your day." And The Lizard had relunctantly agreed.

I gazed over at The Bishop as he drifted off to sleep, covered by a mismatch of blankets and cloth on the floor. He could be difficult, and bitter at times, but his actions this night were evidence of why I kept company with him.

I turned one last time and offered a salute to my fellow soldier, her breathing still rough, before laying down to ride out the vigil to daybreak.

Zombies

I was having a hard time convincing myself this was same warrior I had once rode alongside. He had nearly matched my legendary stamina, was full of enthusiasm, but now seemed beaten and tired.

We had not seen him for a moon's cycle and decided to call upon his home after we returned from our most victorious campaign, to tell tales and enlist his attendance on the next adventure. The greeting at his manor door was welcoming, and open, but we soon began to realize something was amiss. Our hosts were quiet, forlorn, haggard. There was an air of uneasiness blanketing the gathering, and unspoken anticipation of dire occurrences, so we ended our visit prematurely, reasoned by pending engagements.

"It's a disease," The Bishop frowned, having kept his tongue during our brief call. "A curse, or charm perhaps, transmitted by the infected, and eagerly received by the next victims!"

The Bishop had sworn an oath, so I understood his basic misgivings for our friend's situation, but still smiled at his traditional vitriol. I, on the other hand, had no prejudice in the matter, yet still could not fathom why someone would intentionally place themselves in such a taxing and unprofitable predicament.

"But they chose this path," The Lizard countered, though her face betrayed her concern with what she had seen and heard. "I believe they did not fully fathom the depths of their undertaking. Still, we should respect their decision, and meditate for them."

I looked at The Lizard with understanding. "Perhaps we should make ourselves available for assistance, but also provide any distance they may need?"

The Lizard nodded, continuing to look concerned, as we rode away down the highway.

NZ: Edoras

The king greeted us at the great hall, and The Bishop complimented him on the beauty of his lands. The stories did not do The Riddermark justice, and I was glad we made the long trek from the coast to see the horse plains and it's capital.



The Lizard wandered about the landing where Eowyn once stood, grieving over her cousin. The wind whipped my comrade's hair as it must have done Eowyn's, and I was filled with emotion.



I turned my attention to the north, where the great battle took place at Helm's Deep. How outnumbered and heroic Theoden's host had been, and I was proud to be spending the evening in the midst of his kin.

Rohan

The Fauchard

I walked out into the courtyard after supper. The air was heavy and humid, but yet a crowd had gathered. The Bishop and The Lizard were disagreeing, as good friends do. I moved closer to see what the matter was.

"F-o-o-c-h-a-r-d," The Bishop confidently whispered.

"No, I believe it to be f-a-u-c-h-a-r," The Lizard politely replied.

"What are you two quarreling about this time," I grinned.

"The young ones are competing in a contest." The Lizard informed me, her hand presenting seven children on the crier's stand.

The Bishop elaborated: "One that tests the mind on accuracy of spelling a word."

"Hmm," I mused, looking over the nervous young faces, and my two academic friends in observance. "What word are they attempting to spell?" I finally asked.

"Foe-shard," The Bishop slowly sounded out for me.

"Oh, fauchard," I smiled, "f-a-u-c-h-a-r-d."

The Lizard's eyes grew wide along with her ever present smile. The Bishop turned with a frown.

"Why would you think it was spelled that way?" He asked.

"It's a weapon. Big poleaxe. I don't prefer it, but I've snapped a few in my day. I've also requisitioned them."

As if on cue, the competing child repeated my spelling and received an approval from the judge of the competition. I winked at The Lizard. The Bishop stared at me, his mouth slightly agape, trying to comprehend how a lug like myself might actually know how to spell the names of the tools of my trade.

I politely nodded and headed off for an evening drink, as the contest judge sounded out the next word: "Trit-uh-cay-lee."

I decided to keep walking and not enrage The Bishop with my knowledge of cereals and grains...


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