The rules run thusly:
1. Create a lovely blog post that links back to this one. The easiest way to do that would be to grab the code under our pretty Save-a-Word Saturday button. Just copy and paste it into the HTML part of your blog.
2. Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in your blog post. It really must be an old word, not just a big one. We are trying to save lovely archaisms, not ugly giants (for example, “Dihydrogen Monoxide” is not an acceptable choice). Luciferous Logolepsy is a great database of lovely words if you’re having trouble coming up with something on your own.
3. Provide a definition of your word. Use your word in a sentence (or even a short paragraph) vaguely related to the theme we have chosen this week. You may also add visual or musical interpretations of your word or your sentence. In fact, add anything that moves your creative spirit.
4. Add your post to the linky list below (it’s down there somewhere). Then hop to as many other blogs as you can in search of as many wonderful words as possible!
5. Use as many of the words as you can on the people in your life. Do leave us a note or add something to your own post to let us all know what wonderful old word you whipped out to befuddle your friends and relations.
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Last week, I neglected to add my link in time – I have remedied now however – meanwhile, here is my contribution:
This week’s theme is:
Balatron: n.-a joker, a clown
Hariolation: n.- a prophecy
The meal is over; the king’s jester, appetite now quite sated and thirst thoroughly quenched, darts across to a shadowy corner of the room where a tapestry hangs loosely – hooking it back, he bows to the king and reveals … a bundle of patches,beads and plaited red hair. ’Behold, your majesty – another diversion; something to make us laugh with disbelief or creep fearfully to our beds; either way, it shall be entertainment, no?’
‘A fortune-teller? I suppose so; you have done so well this day, you may choose the manner of its passing – speak, then, madam, perform your hariolations!’
The bundle of patches, beads and red hair looks up at the king and smiles. Is it his imagination, or does the king feel a sudden chill in the chamber ? Is there a draught, or is it the manner of the fortune teller’s smile ? Whatever the cause, he shivers involuntarily and calls for an extra cloak.
‘Now, now, good woman,’ cries out his Majesty’s balatron, ‘no tricks now, speak true or not at all!’
The fortune-teller smiles again, and beckons to the king. A fortune-teller, beckoning a king? What land is this ? Why, simply, a land where prophecy, magic and second-sight are treated with due respect. So the king draws near…
A cry rings out across the chamber, followed by incredulous laughter.
The king leaves, ashen-faced. The jester remains, rolling on the floor with mirth. And the fortune-teller? There is no sign of her now – and none saw her leave the castle.
A watchman did see a great owl fly from the narrow chamber window, however, hooting derisively.
The King is ailing now, and not expected to last out the month. Every time his advisors beg him to name an heir – he points to his jester, who begins to chuckle.
Strange times indeed. A jester for a king. Who would have thought it …