Dragonstone 5

**Chapter 5**

We rejoin Aiko at Blackstein Lodge, which I take to be Ye Aulde Medieval Holiday Inn. Arin is staring into a fire, *“trying to <see>.”* Those little < > marks are McKiernan's way of emphasizing that something is magical or mystical. As Arin is hypnotizing herself with fire . . .

“*From the next room came an agonized howling as Aiko scrubbed the old man, hauling him shrieking from tub to tub as the water in each became too filthy, the lodge boy running back and forth, bearing fresh hot water after dumping the old out through the trough of the bathing room.”*

So Samurai chick is forcibly bathing Alos – assaulting him, basically. Granted, Alos is so disgusting sewer rats would wash themselves after touching him, but this is still an unstable and violent warrior assaulting an old man, and it's being played for laughs. \~/

Also, this is one hell of an inn lodge. It has a *“bathing room”* and a *“lodge boy,”* and has no problem providing the guests with the services of the latter as well as an infinite supply of clean, hot water.

Medieval “lodges” are not identical to modern hotels. This is something far, far too many fantasy authors are guilty of. Medieval inns, when such places even existed – and contrary to popular depiction, not every tiny village in the middle of nowhere had a two-story hotel-by-any-other-name – did not necessarily come with private rooms, clean towels, infinite hot water, and freakin' room service.

Thar shows up, and since he sucks as a healer, it appears he's been demoted to Arin's servant, as he brings in *“th' herbs an' stones an' powders ye asked f'r.”*

“*From the next room there came a sodden* thunk! *and the yowling ceased.”*

“ *'Aiko?' called Arin.”*

“ *'He tried to get away, Dara, but slipped and hit his head,' came the reply.”*

Ho ho, the violently aggressive warrior has beaten the scrawny old man unconscious because he wouldn't stop screaming as she assaulted him! Truly, this is comedy gold. Terry Pratchett, move over. \~/

Arin promises to teach Thar how to make a sleeping draught as well as a potion to ease pain, thus hopefully upgrading him from Commoner to Level 1 Healer. Thar goes off to check on Alos, reporting a few minutes later that *“he be no th' worse f'r th' havin' o' a knot on top o' his head, though how it came about from a slip, I nae c'd say.”*

Ho ho, Thar doesn't realize that Samurai Chick violently assaulted a feeble old man! Hee-larious! \~/

As Arin starts to teach Thar the most basic rudiments of the trade he professes to follow, Alos awakens. *“From the bathing room Alos's moans became a feeble yowling only to be choked into muted squawks as if something had been jammed in his mouth.”*

Elder abuse! \~/

Time passes. Arin continues to stare into the fire like a stoner convinced she's witnessing the Mysteries of the Universe. Alos is asleep, though the narrative makes sure to remind us that's he's disgusting and vile. \~/ Samurai Chick is meditating in the lotus position, because meditation is just a fancy Eastern word for “sleep” and is just as beneficial to the body. \~/

Also, her *“glowing skin held the sheen of gold.”* \~/ And we randomly learn that she has a red tiger tattooed between her breasts.

Is Samurai Chick a robot? Because that would explain a lot.

Blah blah, morning comes. Arin goes to check on Egil and finds him conscious. He asks if hes' dead, then says that she's *“the vision of an* engel*.”*

Why is Egil hitting on Arin with cheesy pick-up lines? More pertinently, what does a pseudo-Viking know or care about angels-by-any-other-name? A *valkyrja* would be more fitting, and would make more sense as a complimentary term for a woman whose unladylike pants you hope to get into that an angel. Contrary to pop cultural depictions, the Christian concept of angels was generally as terrifying, otherworldly figures, not sexy blondes with wings. *Valkyrja,* by contrast, were sometimes depicted as the lovers of heroes or other mortals.

Arin catches Egil up on current events, and there's another reference to Samurai Chick being *“a statue of gold.”* \~/ Egil complains that his head hurts, and *“my left eye burns as if it had been dipped in a molten pit of '**Hél'**.”*

Okay, if we're stealing from actual Norse mythology (and throwing in “*engels*,” because why not,” Hel was not hot. Nor was it a place of torment. It wasn't a terribly pleasant place, but bad writers have a habit of equating any sort of underworld or realm of the dead with the pop-culture Christian concept of hell – lots of fire, punishment, and guys in red tights with pitchforks – regardless of how accurate that may be.

Also, why does Egil not have an incomprehensibly thick accent, when everyone else in Morkfjord does? \~/ Not that I'm complaining.

Moving on, we get another reference to Samurai Chick as *“Golden Aiko.”* \~/ Thar shows up with breakfast, so I guess he really is just Arin's delivery boy now. Kind of pathetic.

“*Thar looked at the yellow woman in black chemise, a baleful red tiger staring out, then said, “Would ye break y'r fast wi' me?”*

First, \~/ for *“yellow woman.”*

Second, is Thar staring at her boobs?

Third, Thar? Is it really a good idea to be hitting on the violently unstable foreigner who earlier threatened to murder Yngli for the selfsame thing?

Samurai Chick does not murder Thar, but invites him in to share breakfast. After another *“golden woman,”* \~/ Alos awakens, and quite understandably panics at the sight of Samurai Chick. He freaks out again when he discovers he's naked, and we readers are invited to have a hearty chuckle at his expense. \~/ He covers himself with a blanket, *“all the while keeping his one good eye on Aiko, **as if she would attack”*** (my bolding).

GEE, I WONDER WHY THAT COULD BE. \~/

“*Thar cackled in glee”*

Fuck you, Thar.

Arin stands up, and Alos cowers and begs her not to hit him. Are we *really* supposed to find this funny? It just keeps going on and on, getting more and more uncomfortable, as Alos's trauma and terror are portrayed as comical. I had a joke where I changed Alos's name to Drunkard, since that's clearly all the characterization McKiernan intended him to have, but his relentless abuse at Samurai Chick's hands actually made me feel bad for him. So, Alos, you get to keep your name. It's not much, but it's more respect than your author gave you.

Arin invites Alos to breakfast, to which he replies *“Be there any morning ale? No? … Wine? A hearty breakfast wine, perhaps?”* \~/

   Arin refers to him as *“friend,”* which surprises him. It surprises the heck out of me, since I wouldn't expect anyone who considered themselves my friend to stand by passively as I was abducted, beaten unconscious, and robbed. Fuck you too, Arin.

Alos says he'll have some non-alcoholic breakfast *“but only if you keep that yellow demon off.”* \~/ This causes Samurai Chick to call him a dog and start to get up, presumably to beat the old man unconscious again for daring to say what is clearly the truth. Arin makes her back down and Alos mutters about his abuse at Samurai Chick's hands.

Egil wakes up about now and apparently finds this hilarious, so fuck you too, Egil. I hope the same thing happens to you once you're old and feeble.

Speaking of being old and feeble, Egil has to pee but is so weak that both Arin and Samurai Chick have to help him. I don't know why this scene was included, but we do learn that he is exactly fourteen inches taller than Arin, weighs exactly *“eleven stone six,”* and is *“slender and lithe and muscled well enough.”* All useful and valuable information, to be sure.

Later, new clothes are delivered for Alos, presumably from Medieval Wal-Mart. Alos puts them on, *“strutted and preened in front of the . . . mirror,”* then declares he's going back to the tavern as there are people there who will buy him booze. The same people who tried to violently eject him into the thunderstorm last night? \~/

   Arin promises to buy him alcohol if he'll stay and listen to her story. Time passes, Alos has three drinks and whines for more \~/

   and blows his nose and then examines the result. \~/ Because he's disgusting, remember? Don't worry; if you forget, McKiernan will keep reminding you. Eventually, Egil wakes up, and Alos immediately whines for booze. \~/

    Egil has to pee again, which contributes vastly to our appreciation of this epic tale of high fantasy, and there's some discussion on what color eyepatch he will get when he returns to take vengeance on the Jutes. Given that he already killed the man who wounded him, that seems a bit excessive, but I'm not a Viking.

Booze is finally brought, and on page 50, we start to see a glimmer of the plot. Arin says that she and Samurai Chick came to Morkfjord looking for a one-eyed man (or woman, Samurai Chick is quick to add) because of a vision that she had. She is – well, I'll let her explain:

“*I am a flame seer, and at times divinations come as I peer deeply into fire: visions, redes, oracular pronouncements. They herald that which has happened, that which is happening, and that which will happen someday.”*

You can't “herald” something that has already happened.

“*For it shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be.”
-* The Mirror of Galadriel; The Fellowship of the Ring

\~/

Blah blah, Arin can't trigger or control her visions, nor can she predict or affect what she will see. She's a standard Useless Seer character, spewing forth plot devices that are never properly understood until it's too late to matter. Anyway, she had a vision that involved *“the Green Stone of Xian.”*

And on that dramatic cliffhanger, the chapter ends.

Drinks: 21

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