Quintessentially Quilly

Welcome to Three Word Thursday #48. Please join us in our weekly romp as we try to rescue lost and forgotten words from the dusty halls of antiquity. If you enjoy reading my story, leave a comment then click on the names of the other players and go see how they used these bygone words. You’ll be entertained (and possibly educated) all at once.

The Words:

• absquatulate, v. to depart in a hurry; to die
• vocitate, v. to name or call
• malison, n. a curse

The story in full.

From episode #48:

The dragon seemed to sigh. “Tell me son of Elun, have you the pride of your father, or your grandfather?”

Vernal answered, “I don’t know, but I fear I will never be the man my father was.”

Threfel stepped backward. His great, golden body disappeared into the foliage until only his head remained in the clearing with Vernal. “You are free to go, but first, see that plant there by your left foot? Grab it as close to the ground as you can and pull it up.”

Vernal did as he was bid without question. The plant stalk was fibrous, rough and as big around as his little finger. A good section of soil and a large root cluster lifted with the plant.

“That is woodwort,” Threfel said. “Pull one of the tubers and tuck it into your satchel, then tamp the plant back into the ground.

Again Vernal did exactly as he was bid, wondering if this was a test.

“It is no test,” Threfel answered his thoughts. “You are free to go. The path is wide and the moon is high so you should have no trouble finding your way. Even so, keep your eyes open for a cromack for you will have need of it tomorrow.” Then, in the blink of an eye, the great dragon was gone.

~*~

Vernal stood where the dragon left him, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that something so big could absquatulate so quickly.  “Go, boy,” Threfel thought spoke into his head.  “It is late.  Your friends are anxious.”  Vernal nodded even thought the dragon wasn’t there to see, then he turned and hurried down the path.

~*~

Evaard returned with an arm load of firewood, but the night was moonless and far too dark for him to identify one plant from another. “How is the boy,” he asked as he stepped into the cave. “I could find no woodwort.”

Chevall twitched the boy’s bedding aside to show Evaard the cut and swelling on the boy’s knee. “The cut is clearly from a sharpened instrument. I am guessing Fencil’s knife. He probably lanced the wound to remove whatever caused the initial infection. However, without woodwort to draw out the poison it will just grow worse. By morning it may have spread too far.”

Evaard said, “We could chance a torch, but if any of the mage warriors are nearby –”

Chevall shook his head. “Not yet, but it may come to that. What of Vernal? Did you find no sign?”

“It’s too dark to track,” Evaard said. “And if this is the ravine I think it is, the back entrance to the dragon cave is within an hour’s walk. The boy might have stumbled on it.”

“In which case he may never return,” Chevall said. “I have heard that the dragon, Threfel, has little mercy.”

“Threfel values honesty and integrity, and Vernal has both.” Evaard said. “On the other hand, he cares little for pride and Vernal can be prideful.”

Chevall stared at Evaard in surprise. “I thought Threfel was condemned to forever guard the Treasure cave?”

Evaard nodded. “King deMagik laid the malison on Threfel over 200 years ago when he was still an adolescent.  As a young dragon Threfel had an eye for things that glitter and sparkle, but since adolescent dragons are forbidden to fly beyond the boundaries of dragon hollow, he couldn’t collect his own treasures, so he stole from the other dragons.  As punishment, deMajik condemned him to guard the royal treasure.  It is said that he can no longer fly and is unable to venture more than a few feet beyond the cave.”

“So if Threfel cannot leave the cave, that means you have been inside?”

“No,” Evaard said.  “As far as I know, no man alive can claim to have entered the cave and lived to tell of it.  Threfel met me just beyond the mouth of the cave and scared me righteous.”

Chevall said, “You went there to collect gems?”

Evaard answered, “Do not hesitate to vocitate the truth.  I went there to steal.”

“So did I,” came Vernal’s voice from the darkness beyond the the willow boughs.  He pushed through and into the cave.  “I have returned with no gems, but Threfel bid me bring you this cromack and this tuber. He reached into the pouch sewn on his tunic and brought forth the tuber.

“Woodwort!” Cheval exclaimed.

~*~

The 3WT #50 words will be:

• acersecomic, n. — someone whose hair has never been cut
• uberate, v. — make plentiful or nourish
• snilch, v. — to eye someone or something

Got it? Good! In that case: Your story is due on: April 8th, 2010
Enjoy!