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The Town Square. Hey. I've got a 40 foot christmas tree here. I need some help putting it up in the square.
Volunteers please?
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Senior Member
Array 
I would but I'm dealing with a few crisis here.....though I want lots of lights and tinsel and a star ontop please! Theses are evil....VERY evil, someone rescue me pls!
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Senior Member
Array 
I'm your man, Steve. Let's get the horses hitched up, and the A-frame in place, and we'll get 'er right up...
Where do you think--over by the town hall, or in front of the bell tower? Or maybe by the commons gate... Nothing is more frightening than ignorance in action.
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I'd go for near the town hall...
I've got the star for the top, and about a mile of tinsel in red and white.
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Senior Member
Array
DONT FORGET THE LIGHTS!!!!!!!!! CAndles would be excellent but that may require someone full time to light them! Theses are evil....VERY evil, someone rescue me pls!
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Senior Member
Array
And the candy canes! I have about 300 candy canes to hang on it!
<img src="graemlins/jester.gif" border="0" alt="[Jester]" /> <img src="graemlins/jester.gif" border="0" alt="[Jester]" /> <img src="graemlins/jester.gif" border="0" alt="[Jester]" /> Nothing is more frightening than ignorance in action.
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Senior Member
Array
Excitement gave the air an almost palpable tint.
The tree was a beauty, a grand patriarch of spruces. Steve the publican, who had made this present to the city every year for the last four, stood to one side of the square beaming with good cheer and accepting the deserved compliments of the townsfolk.
Old Tim Cutter oversaw the sledge drawn by farmer Kelnick’s team of matched Belgians, shouting instructions as he positioned the trunk in front of the city hall preparatory to raising it. The stamping horses strained and side-stepped, responding to the shouted commands of the driver with snorting and the soft chime of harness bells, their steaming breath hanging suspended in the crisp air like smoke. Children, overcome with excitement and unable to stand still, sporadically scurried here and there across the commons, moving from vantage point to vantage point as the mood took them in a vain attempt to see better.
Finally the trunk was positioned to Tim’s satisfaction, and the horses were uncoupled from the sledge and led to one side. Those children for whom the horses were the primary attraction followed, while volunteers from the gathering crowd began setting up the A-frame and tackle. Other men seized long poles with y-shaped forks at their ends, for guiding the monster as it rose. While blacksmith John drove great wedges into the ground to keep the base of the tree and the ends of the lifting frame from slipping, another man tied the end of the rope around the trunk.
When all was in readiness, the horses were brought back and shackled to the raising tackle. With a crack of the reins and a sharp “Gi-yap!” the horses began walking forward. First the cable drew taut, then the frame took the strain where the rope passed over its saddle. Slowly, like some ancient monument to a long-forgotten king, the shaggy green bole rose into the air. On either side, the men with the bracing poles moved back and forth, straining and shouting instructions to each other and the team driver.
When at last the trunk stood straight, the men with the poles continued to hold it steady as bracing was applied around the base. Finally, the rope was untied and the lifting frame removed, leaving the tree standing proud and solitary in its place of honor. Spontaneously, a ragged cheer and round of applause rose from the onlookers while the men who had raised the behemoth slapped each other on the back and avowed that this was the grandest tree the town had ever seen. Hot punch appeared from somewhere, and toasts were drunk all around.
At last farmer Kelnick re-hitched his team to the sledge and drove it away, as the people who were designated to decorate started setting up scaffolding and laying out the tinsel ropes and strings of lights. Nothing is more frightening than ignorance in action.
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**Well written, Loch!**
The gargantuan fir stood, towering over the spectators. Lochinvar, equally as tired as all the others, stood and sipped his drink. Steve walked over, and patted him on the back in congratulation. "So, Loch. What do you reckon on the decorations? They'll have to be done by this weekend, and i think we should do something a little special this year." he said.
Lochinvar looked at him blankly. He honestly wasn't that bothered. He'd just wrestled nearly two tonnes of chrismas tree into a position it didn't like. He was tired, cut to ribbons and smelled like an air-freshner. He wanted to sleep, and rightly so. he looked around, and said "Be right back." and headed off in the direction of Steve's brother, Fermion. Steve sat on a section of timber used for the scaffold, and sipped his drink.
Lochinvar and Fermion greeted eachother, and laughed about the struggle to errect the tree. "Have the kids broken up for christmas yet?" Lochinvar asked. Fermion shook his head, and swallowed the mouthfull of punch. "Good. I have a favour to ask of you." he said. "Go for it." said Fermion. "Well, I was wondering if we could involved them in decorating the tree. I reckon it'd be a nice gesture to them, and sort of get them involved." he continued. Fermion looked thoughtful for a couple of minutes, smiled. "Why not?" he said.
Lockinvar glanced over at steve to call him over. Steve had fallen asleep on the wooden beam.
A snowflake drifted down and settled unnoticed on the sign at the bitter end.
**********************************
And I'm done for tonight. It's 3:am and I'm off to bed. G'night.
[ 12-19-2001: Message edited by: SteveMcDonough ]
[ 12-19-2001: Message edited by: SteveMcDonough ]</p>
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Senior Member
Array 
ooooo! aaaahhh! Right sorry, moving on.
----------------
Carpe Diem "Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory." - George S. Patton
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Senior Member
Array 
I love the writing, gets some of my favorite characters in, too. Also that "Down home" kinda feel to it, small-town-like.
Only one problem I see:
The last big occasion we had was the second royal ball. Before it was over, Moonitic was on a rampage, and yours truly was chasing her around through the forest. Then it started raining, and the drama continued - outside. Just days before the ball, Nækos returned to Arconia from his vague and undescribed wanderings through the wilderness. At this point his tunic had been sacrificed for bandages, etc. And yet he'd been two months outdoors without getting cold. Here's what I'm getting at: Those two things establish the weather as warm, and probably summery. While several months have since passed for us, no more than a week or two has elapsed in the story.
Where'd all this Weihnachten and snow come from? It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array 
*Nods* you notticed that too eh?? oh and Congrats on the 500 Mark.. 
Space time continums arn't any fun to navagate.. and things get messy really fast..
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Senior Member
Array 
Umm..I'm still kind of dead. No, wait. Wrong me. I mean, I'm "getting better." Nope, that's the evil twin.
Where am I? Who am I? "Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind."
-- Rudyard Kipling
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Senior Member
Array
Okay, all you literalists...take a breather while I explain something.
This is just an interlude; think of it as taking place outside of time and the usual happenings in Arconia. A parallel universe, if you will; a "dream sequence" that never really happened.
Have fun with it. When Christmas is over, this thread will disappear, never to be seen again. What happens here will not affect anything going on in any of the other threads, and nothing there will impact here. It's a self-contained world all unto itself.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a rum punch calling me...  Nothing is more frightening than ignorance in action.
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Senior Member
Array
Okay, all you literalists...take a breather while I explain something.
This is just an interlude; think of it as taking place outside of time and the usual happenings in Arconia. A parallel universe, if you will; a "dream sequence" that never really happened.
Have fun with it. When Christmas is over, this thread will disappear, never to be seen again. What happens here will not affect anything going on in any of the other threads, and nothing there will impact here. It's a self-contained world all unto itself.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a rum punch calling me... Nothing is more frightening than ignorance in action.
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I thought it would be nice. That's all... Perhaps Zelda might be used to christmasses in the middle of summer, but I'm not.
Anyway. I think it's down to individuals' interpretations of the thread. I think of it as real-time. It's christmas now, as it is in Arconia. It will be summer in a few months and so it will be in Arconia.
I didn't think one solitary snowflake would upset you guys. <img src="graemlins/crap.gif" border="0" alt="[Crap]" /> lol
Anyway. Happy crimbo. <img src="graemlins/dunce.gif" border="0" alt="[Dunce]" /> Enjoy the tree.
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Senior Member
Array
I totally agree with Steve! If we get Christmas for real, then why not in Arconia? Also, I say *clears her throat* Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!
Oh no no dear put that reif more towards the center . . over to the left . . a little more . . .Oh! Here let me do it.
Excuse me everyone to many decorations not enough time!
ooo Rum Punch!
"Rosaline Get out of the Punch!"
*sighs and snaps her fingers*
Drats!!
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Carpe Diem "Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory." - George S. Patton
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Senior Member
Array
Sorry, sorry! Who am I to argue with snow? It's four days from Christmas, officially winter, and FIFTY DEGREES OUT. Anyway, I was just wondering how it all worked out with the regular storyline. I still like it. And don't you just love the German verb, Weihnachten? It's Christmas, but a verb. "Es Weihnachtet." "It's Christmasing." Ain't it cool? It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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Senior Member
Array
Ah Ja Swordsman! Das ist Sehr Gut!! (lol don't ask)
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Carpe Diem "Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory." - George S. Patton
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Senior Member
Array
Musings on Snow (from an aussie who has just had her first experience)
1. Snow can divert planes (nearly happened)
2. Snow looks very pretty flurring around when you are inside and its outside.
3. Snow makes very nice crunchy sounds underfeet
4. Snow on fields in the scotish country side is picture postcard stuff.
5. Snow can be very ice and you need catipillar boots to stay upright!
 Theses are evil....VERY evil, someone rescue me pls!
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Senior Member
Array
Musings on snow (From a northerner who's missing it right now)
1. If it's less than a foot, it don't count.
2. It's really pretty when it's coming down thick and hard, with huge fat flakes.
3. It can shut down a city - if you're not used to it.
4. It's gotta be warm to pack.
5. Never try to climb a snowdrift if it's higher than chest-height. It's just not worth the effort to get up there.
6. When the drifts are taller than you are and you need to shovel through, or even if you have a snowblower, use sleds to remove the snow.
7. Get a BIG frinking snowblower!
8. Learn to ski - cross country and downhill. It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag. - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC
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