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I needs get back and poke holes in the bucket he carries his conceit in.”
I laughed for a good ten seconds, on first reading this sentence.
The songs I create now must be great songs of great events, songs that will aid me in earning the title of Singer. I will not sing of fools.”
On the order of the Edda I presume.
’Til my hair got caught in the chain mail links.
Chain mail tangles with hair with a perverse abandon that only need be experienced once to be forever, painfully remebered. In my case I had to cut my hair to get free.
Simus came up to us at that point, limping slightly, mug in one hand, a plate of Anna’s tarts in the other. “Try one of these.” Othur and I each took one. One bite, and I knew where the bitterest opponent of my plan lay. I looked up into Simus’s dark eyes ruefully. “Apparently I have angered the cook.”
Everyone in the room stared at me as this passage had me laughing like a loon.
