The Tale of Tragic Taramir

[Vlad]

Preface

[21:11:15] * Swordmage dares |V| to write the story of Tarimar the Tragic, how he got his name, and why he hated honey so much .... all without any further info to go on

 

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In the olden days there was a quaint village some distance away from any semblance of society. This village had a bounty of straw houses, and numerous small farms at its outskirts. All contact with the outside world was through a singular gravel path. This path led to a castle a few miles away, and was the source of most gossip and rumors. The path itself was generally safe, however travelers always made sure not to stray too far.

 

On either side of the path were dense woods. Many dangerous creatures lurked in these woods, and among these was none other than Tarimar the Tragic. Tarimar was a fierce bear who could uproot trees with one heave, and he could shatter steel with one blow. Tarimar was the undisputed king of the forest, but he was lonely at the top. All of the other creatures stayed away from him mainly because they were afraid. The behemoth lumbered around, and rarely stood at his full height, simply because the treetops were too low.

 

Humans were scared of Tarimar the Tragic just as much as the animals were. Tales regularly circulate around the village of a hunting expedition that never comes back, or of a schoolgirl that goes to pick her last flower. Over time the rumors developed into a tale told to children to keep them in line, similar to a boogey-man or Ronald McDonald. Among the wisest of the town it is said that Tarimar emerges from his lair whenever there is going to be foreign trouble.

 

The bear however was a peaceful creature. He would give shelter to anyone who came by, and his visitors lived like kings. Most enjoy it so much, they decide to live out the remainder of their lives in Taramir’s custody. Unfortunately, the great bear was sometimes too trusting.

 

One of the visitors who stayed at Taramir’s lair was a bandit. He had stumbled upon the area accidentally, and wandered in hoping to find something to loot. Upon sight of the bear, the bandit nearly fainted. It was only the prospect of collapsing on a stone floor that kept the thief upright. As the bandit’s eyes darted around the well-decorated lair, his gaze fell upon a large clay pot.

 

When Taramir turned and noticed the stranger, he immediately welcomed the newcomer. The bandit, however, would not oblige to being polite in response. He simply grabbed the heavy pot from the shelf, and began to make his escape. Taramir was infuriated that a guest would just run off with his honey, and quickly took up pursuit.

 

It didn’t take long for the bear’s large leaps to catch up to the thief’s scampering. A fight broke out which resulted in the honey spilling all over Tarimar’s fur coat. The forest bandit did not fare so well; he lost an eye and a limb. Needless to say, this incident put an end to the man’s career, but that’s not the focus of this tale. Taramir was heavily encumbered by the sweet viscous goop, creating a perfect target for fire ants. The forest was a natural home for millions of the red devils, and they all flocked to one point.

 

After countless hours of biting and stinging, the bear-king was able to break free of the red embrace and hobble back to his cave. The occupants nursed him back to health, but Taramir was never the same. He lost the use of both his legs, and his left arm. They gave him the title of Tragic simply because of his demeanor after the terrible incident. If bears could have clinical depression then this would be a prime example, but instead the bear also vowed to never house his arch nemesis, honey, again.

 

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Now gentlemen, and ladies too,

I issue a challenge for any and all, even inept.

Those wishing to fight, and willing to bleed;

Are those who are quick to blindly accept.

 

If you should happen to choose

To write up a tale for the rest of The Pen,

Would you gladly consider one of my whim?

Should you agree, proceed as I went-

 

But explain to the rest of the mob

What of the bandit who lost his job?

 

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Feedback Level 3 please.

 

The rules for this little project are quite simple:

You can only add one new character in your story.

At the end of your tale, you must issue a new challenge.

The challenge should be about an underdeveloped character.

Most importantly, have fun with this.

 

Edited March 18, 2004 by Vlad

[Jade]

Interesting. Although, I would try maintaining an active voice. It might soup it up a bit.

[Katzaniel]

The bandit runs away as fast as he can from the forest containing the bear and the honey and the bandit's left arm. Many people would consider it great luck to lose your left arm, but Honnin did not. This was not because he was not a grateful person, although he wasn't. Honnin had been, up until a moment ago, left-handed.

 

So, fleeing the scene, barely able to see where he's going from the blood covering his face, Honnin finally collapses about an hour from the castle. This is when he finally takes stock of his situation and discovers that his left eye is also missing.

 

"You won't get to the castle by digging at your face like that."

 

Honnin looks around, trying to discern the owner of the voice. Still adapting to his situation, he spins around while trying to see and loses his balance. He collapses into a sitting position and finally looks up.

 

In a tree above him, Honnin sees a little man stretched out carelessly on a branch and laughing silently. "Who are you?" asks Honnin but the man just laughs harder.

 

"To get to the castle, you have to walk, not talk."

 

Confused and a little angry, Honnin demands why he would want to go to the castle but recieves only more inane directions on how to go about getting there. No amount of questioning rewards him with an answer.

 

Frustrated, Honnin leaves. He is in pain, but maybe he should head to the castle after all. Part of him rejects the idea simply because the little man was so insistent about it, but there was really no other place to go. The villagers would certainly not accept him now.

 

So, onward he went. He wonders about the man in the tree, and also what one in particular of his comments had meant: "When you get there, don't go under the bridge." Naturally Honnin was curious, and when he arrived at the castle, he walked all the way around it until he found the bridge. This took some time since the castle was big, but he found that at one point the moat was fed by a stream, and there was a quaint stone bridge over the stream. He supposed that on the other side the water left the moat again but presumably there was only one bridge.

 

So, Honnin walked onto the bridge and tried to look underneath it. He couldn't see anything strange about it. Walking around it as much as he could and looking from every angle yielded no clues. Honnin considered just going to the castle - maybe someone there could even tell him about the bridge - but he was very curious, unsure that he would be accepted at the castle any more than at the village, and desired to prove to himself, after his failure against the bear, that he could handle whatever was under the bridge. So, he swam underneath it.

 

Nothing happened. No one came. No traps were sprung. Honnin inspected every stone. Disappointed, the former thief tried to leave - and couldn't. An invisible wall prevented it. He felt all the way around, even swimming to the bottom of the stream and back up.

 

There were no bones there, so it seemed unlikely that the man had pulled this trick on anyone else. Unless it was really a sincere warning, and everyone else had heeded it? Fish came and were trapped by the wall, so Honnin was able to kill and eat them, and he never ran out of water. Swimming endlessly was tiring, but he found a corner of the bridge that he could hold onto and rest.

 

Honnin actually managed to live for a few years under that bridge. He never discovered a way out and never saw the little man again. People passed occasionally, but they never looked beneath the bridge and sound apparently didn't pass up to them. He yelled himself hoarse every time it happened, though.

 

The thief finally died one day when a crocodile from the moat got caught under the bridge with him. His bones swept easily past the invisible wall.

 

 

 

 

 

I was challenged and I did my part,

Now fellow reader it is up to you.

The bear met a thief, his life was changed

The thief met a man who made him blue.

 

Your task is to tell us now,

Whence came the man in the tree?

Why did he say what he did?

I'm curious, so answer my plea!