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Author Topic: The Traveller. A short story in instalments. Part: The final.  (Read 7531 times)
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Alysse the Likely
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« Reply #15 on: 17 July 2008, 05:03:32 »

Well, these fellows don't sound like elves.  They're all too human, if you ask me.  And yes, Elindor is elven.  So, you may want to be approaching Remusiat.

As for the policemen, perhaps they're City Watchmen patrolling the outskirts of the town?  Most larger cities will have some sort of constabulary.  The nomadic Kuglimz practise what was known in the Wild West as "frontier justice", but the settled ones would recognize the need for some form of policing, though with them it might be more along the lines of vigilante groups of citizenry.

Possibly he is not being arrested on charges of speeding(which I agree is a more modern type of "crime") but because he tumbled the patrol into a ditch.  This would translate to "reckless endangerment of the public"  and "interfering with Watchmen in the pursuit of their sworn duty" and, if anyone got scratched or bruised, "causing bodily harm and discomfort to a member of the City Watch"--at least three lovely charges the cop could have him up before the magistrates for, if they really wanted to.


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« Reply #16 on: 18 July 2008, 07:39:29 »

OK, all Talia and Alysse's points addressed. Now for the next instalment.....

                                   THE TRAVELLER
                                      Part: The third

As we watched the patrol march soggily away, I let out a long sigh of relief, "I can't believe that just happened." I breathed.
"We was caught," rat-face said, "We was caught good an' proper."
"I was caught, you mean."
"That's right," he said "What're you goin' to do now, guv'nor?"
"I'm going straight to Remusiat to get some legal advice," I said. I flicked Nightshades reins and he started to walk on.

"You mustn' believe what 'ee said to you about goin' t'prison," he said. "They don't put someone in th'clink jus' fer causin' a minor upset like that."
"Are you sure of that?" I asked.
"I'm positive," he answered. "They can take yer permit away, an' they can give yer a whoppin' great fine, but that'll be an end to it."
I felt a little less nervous hearing his assessment of the situation. After all, he seemed to be the type of person who has experience in the ways of the legal system.

"By the way," I said, "why did you lie to him?"
" 'Oo, me?" he said. "What makes you fink I lied?"
"You told him you were an unemployed brick-carrier. But you told me you were in a highly skilled trade."
"An' so I am," he said. "But it don't do to tell everythin' to a Watchman."
"So just what do you do?" I asked him.
"Ahh," he said slyly. "That'd be tellin' now, wouldn't it?"
"Is it something you're ashamed of?"
"Ashamed?" he cried. "Me, ashamed of my job? I'm about as proud of it as anybody could be in the 'ole wide world. Ashamed indeed!"
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"You writers really is nosey, ain't ya?" he said. "An' you ain't goin' t'be 'appy, I don't fink, 'til you've found out 'zackly what the answer is?"
"I don't really care one way or the other." I lied.
He gave me a crafty look out of the side of his eyes. "I fink you do." he said. "I can see it on yer face that you fink I'm in some kind of very peculiar trade an' yer jus' achin' t'know what it is."
I didn't like the way he seemed to be able to read my thoughts. I kept quiet and concentrated on the road ahead.
"You'd be right, too." he went on. "I am in a very peculiar trade. I'm in the queerest peculiar trade of 'em all."
I waited for him to go on.
"That's why I 'as t'be extra careful 'oo I'm talkin' to, y'see. 'Ow am I t'know, f'rinstance, you ain't another Watchmen off duty?"
"Do I look like a City-Watchman?"
"No," he said. "You don't. An' you ain't. Any fool can tell that."

He took from his pocket a small pouch of pipeweed and a well-used clay pipe and started to prepare himself a smoke.I was watching him out of the corner of my eye, and the speed with which he performed this rather tricky operation was incredible. The pipe was packed and ready in the blink of an eye. He checked that the weed was secure in the bowl of the pipe and stuck the stem between his lips. Then, as if from nowhere, a small, burning stick appeared in his hand. The pipe was lit, and the flame disappeared. It was altogether a remarkable performance.

"I've never seen anyone build a pipe as fast as that." I said.
"Ah," he said, taking a deep suck of smoke."So you noticed."
"Of course I noticed. It was quite amazing."
He sat back and smiled. It pleased him very much that I had noticed how quickly he could build a pipe. "You want t'know what makes me able t'do it?" he asked.
"Go on then."
"It's 'cos I've got these 'ere fingers. These fingers of mine," he said, holding up both hands high in front of him, "are quicker an' cleverer than the fingers of the best lute player in all the world."
"Are you a lute player?"
"Don't be daft," he said. "Do I look like a bloody lute player?"
I glanced at his fingers. They were so beautifully shaped, so slender and long and elegant, they didn't seem to belong to the rest of him at all. They looked like the fingers of locksmith or lace-maker.

"My job," he went on, "is a 'undred times more difficult than playin' a musical instrument. Any idiot can learn t'do that. There's little children learnin' to play music at almost any 'ouse you go into these days. That's right, ain't it?"
"I suppose so." I said.
"Course it's right. But there ain't more'n a 'andful of folk 'oo can learn t'do what I do. 'Ow about that?"
"Amazing." I said.
"Bloody right it's amazin'." he said.
"I think I know what it is that you do." I said. "You do conjuring tricks. You're a conjuror."
"Me?" he snorted. "A conjuror? Can you picture me goin' round childrens parties an' makin' fings appear out of me 'at?"
"Then you're a Four House player. You get people into games and you deal yourself marvellous hands."
"Me! A stinkin' cardsharper!" he cried. "That's a low racket if ever there was one."
"All right then, I give up."
I was walking Nightshade slowly now, to make sure I didn't cause any more accidents. We had come onto the main Remusiat road and were bumping down the hill towards the dity wall.

Suddenly, my passenger was holding up a black leather belt in his hand. "Ever see this before?" he asked. The belt had a metal buckle of unusual design.
"Hey!" I said. "That's mine, isn't it? It is mine! Where did you get it?"
He grinned and waved the belt gently from side to side. "Where d'you fink I got it?" he said. "Off of the top of your breeches, o'course."
I reached down and felt for my belt. It was gone.


So, the plot thickens! Find out tomorrow how the story ends.......
« Last Edit: 18 July 2008, 07:45:43 by Tharoc Wargrider » Logged

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Ta`lia of the Seven Jewels
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« Reply #17 on: 18 July 2008, 16:14:25 »

Is that a scottish accent, written down, Tharoc? You know, some of our dearest friends are Scottish and I finally managed to understand Jim.


--> a Macanti in Remusiat    ?????



For Tharoc to enjoy:
Our friends lived in the same town in Southern England when we stayed there and I remember their rubbish bin well. They had a sticker on it saying:
"Keep Scotland tidy ......  dump your waste in England"
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« Reply #18 on: 18 July 2008, 20:29:05 »

It's a Mancunian accent, Talia. That's Mancunian as in Manchester, England. I can see why you were confused though, when they are written down like that, Scottish and Mancunian do look very similar. It's a completely different matter when you hear them spoken, though!

I have some very good friends in Scotland who have very broad accents, people seem to understand them a lot easier than they do me.

When I am talking to my father, even Mrs W can't understand half of what we say, and she only comes from about 5 miles from where I was born.

Congratulations on translating Scottish, BTW!
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Azhira Styralias
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« Reply #19 on: 18 July 2008, 20:38:09 »

Off topic, but I read this funny article about Cockney and how they make words to mean other things and some kind of rhyming thing...whatever. Who knew English had to be translated into English! Or Scottish into English... rolleyes
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« Reply #20 on: 18 July 2008, 20:45:39 »

I think you are referring to "Cockney rhyming slang" Az.

Apples & pears  =  Stairs
Whistle & flute  =  Suit
Gregory Peck  =  Deck  =  Floor
Boat race  =  Face
Mince pies  =  Eyes
Plates of meat  =  Feet


That is just a few of the more common ones. There are literally dozens more.

Believe me, there are so many regional dialects in this country, it's unbelievable. Even people from neighbouring towns have difficulty understanding each other sometimes.
It's funny when we go to a Harley rally, hundreds of people from the same country, trying to find someone with an accent they understand so they can ask for help translating the person sat next to them!
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« Reply #21 on: 18 July 2008, 21:21:11 »

You put a man from the north and a man from the south in the same room.....They'll both speak english but neither will have any idea what the other is saying....its that serious....


Cockney Rhyming Slang you say!

Londoner's second language.....especially if you live in the east end....

Usually though....you say the word that doesnt rhyme...

Trouble and Strife= Wife i.e. 'promised the trouble'

Bubble Bath= Laugh i.e. 'you having a bubble?'

etc. etc. so on and so forth

It was actually invented so the victorian gentlemen could speak without the Police understanding what they said to each other- Clever eh?
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« Reply #22 on: 18 July 2008, 22:19:39 »

Well, Deci, it looks like we've got the unfathomable languages section well and truly sewn up!

We could make a fortune out of this, if we play it right!
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Decipher Ziron
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« Reply #23 on: 18 July 2008, 22:21:30 »

Meet me in a shady alley for some inscrupulous plotting.....
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« Reply #24 on: 18 July 2008, 22:24:10 »

Erm......My mum said I shouldn't go anywhere with strange men. No offence, Deci, but I think you fall well inside that category.
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« Reply #25 on: 18 July 2008, 22:56:37 »

Oh Im hardly a man....
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Ta`lia of the Seven Jewels
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« Reply #26 on: 18 July 2008, 23:12:10 »

Still Off topic:
I didn't know, that England  - sorry, I mean the Brittish Islands - have such a diversity of dialects as well (I don't talk of Welsh now), I thought only in Germany Southerners would not understand "Platitudes". That "High" German speaking people don't understand dialects is another thing. But well, I have a strong dialect and 10 km away from my hometown is another strong one, kind of a cultural border. We do understand each other though, but the people I met first when I studied some 120 km away from home did have difficulties, lol.

I was deeply frustrated once in my life, concerning languages. I lived for over half a year near Oxford, in Abingdon on Themse, and was very proud, that with my former bad English I could understand the people quite well by now. One morning a man was at my door and asked me "something". "Something", I still don't know what it was, for I didn't understand a single word, no "and" or "with" or "you", nothing. I finally shrugged my shoulders and said too him, that we rented the house and that our estate agent was 'Finders Keepers' (another story), and that was all. He finally went away and I went back inside the house, sat at my kitchentable and looked frustrated out of the window!
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« Reply #27 on: 18 July 2008, 23:20:01 »

lol

If you compared my snobby southern tone to Mr Tharoc's Manchester one (you do actually come from arround Manchester don't you Tharoc?) I'm sure anyone could tell the difference!  The one I find hardest is Gordy, but a guy came into the shop I used to work in once and had such a strong Gloucestershire accent (I come from there myself) that I couldn't understand anything, even his name.  I asked him three times how to spell it, and still had no idea :P.
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Tharoc Wargrider
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« Reply #28 on: 19 July 2008, 01:00:49 »

@ Talia.  HA HA! The look you had on your face after meeting Mr What-did-you-just-say is a look I'm well accustomed to. I get it all the time, even when I'm still quite local to where I live.

@ Rookie.  Snobby? Are you forgetting that photo of you at the Oktoberfest? I don't mind Geordie, it's Scouse and Brummie that make me cringe. I quite like the Gloucestershire accent, BTW. It's a very "friendly" sounding dialect. Unlike mine, which someone once compared to be attacked by a dog! And yes, I'm from a town about 5 miles from Manchester center, called Ashton-under-Lyne, but I live about 2 miles from M/C now, in a town called Droylsden. Our house is bout a mile from the City of Manchester Stadium, where they had the Commonwealth Games, and where Manchester City now live.

@ Deci. Sorry about that, a slip of the tongue, I assure you!

@ All.  The language I've used in the Traveller story is a form of Mancunian, but I've partially "translated" it, as you would have no chance of understanding the way I speak if I wrote it as I say it! I'll do an entry in my dialect one day, just to see how long it takes for someone to decipher it.
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« Reply #29 on: 19 July 2008, 17:49:23 »

The problem will be, can you actually write it? There is a book written in my dialect which even I have to train reading, otherwise I would not understand it either. Loud reading is required to get it. Once accommodated, it is ok, but the first steps are difficult.
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"For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path  that may have heart. There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length. And there I travel looking,  breathlessly. ~Don Juan"
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