Jenny > Jenny's Quotes

“That taught us how to block a sword with two knives. But what if an ax man's coming at me?"
Gilan looked suspicious. "An ax man? I don't recommend trying to block an ax with two knives."
But Will wouldn't take no for an answer. "But what if he's charging at me?" Horace walked over.
Gilan looked away. "Uh...shoot him."
Horace intervened. "Can't, his bowstring's broken."
Gilan gritted his teeth. "Run and hide."
Will kept on him. "There's a sheer cliff behind me."
Horace caught on. "There's a sheer cliff behind him, and his bowstring's broken. What should he do?"
Gilan thought for a moment. "Jump off the cliff, it'll be less messy that way.”
― John Flanagan, The Burning Bridge

“So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy."
So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tone that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold.
The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain.
Apparently," she said,"Halt threw him into the moat.”
― John Flanagan, The Burning Bridge

“Any sign of them yet? he asked. Will looked at him. 'Yes', he said. 'A party of fifty Scotti came though just twenty minutes ago'.
Really? Horace looked startled. He wasn't fully awake yet. Will rolled his eyes to heaven. 'Oh, my word, yes', he said. 'They were riding on oxen and playing bagpipes and drums. Of course not,' he went on. 'If they had come past, I would have woken you-if only to stop your snoring'.
I don't snore', Horace said, with dignity. Will raised his eyebrows. 'Is that so?' he said. 'Then in that case, you'd better chase out that colony of walruses who are in the tent with you...of course you snore.”
― John Flanagan, The Siege of Macindaw

“Will looked up angrily, shaking his head in disbelief.
Will you shut up? he said tautly.
Horace shrugged in apology. 'I'm sorry' he said, I sneezed. A person can't help it when they sneeze.
Perhaps not. But you could try to make it sound a little less like an elephant trumpeting in agony; Will told him. ”
― John Flanagan, The Siege of Macindaw

“I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?"

A group of servants were busy emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startled by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time see a scarlet-and-gold clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormus splash in the dark, rancid waters. They shrugged and went back to work.”
― John Flanagan, The Burning Bridge

“Sometimes," Halt continued, "we tend to expect a little too much of Ranger horses. After all, they are only human.”
― John Flanagan, The Icebound Land

“Strange, he thought, how seldom people tend to look up”
― John Flanagan, The Ruins of Gorlan

“Always expect something to go wrong," he told him. "Believe me, if you're wrong, you're not dissapointed. If you're right, you're ready for it.”
― John Flanagan, Erak's Ransom

“Does it matter?" Halt asked.
Horace shrugged. "Not really, I suppose. I just wondered why you'd gone to the kitchen and why you took the trouble to remain unseen. Were you hiding from Master Chubb yourself? And Will just turned up by coincidence?"
"And why would I be hiding from Master Chubb in his own kitchen?" Halt challenged. Again. Horace shrugged innocently.
"Well,there was a tray of freshly made pies airing on the windowsill, wasn't there? And you're quite fond of pies, aren't you, Halt?"
Halt drew himself up very straight in the saddle. "Are you accusing me of sneaking into that kitchen to steal the pies for myself? Is that it?"
His voice and body language simply reeked of injured dignity.
"Of course not, Halt!" Horace hurried to assure him, and Halt's stiff-shouldered form relaxed a little.
"I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to confess," Horace added. This time, Malcolm couldn't conceal his sudden explosion of laughter. Halt gave them both a withering glance.
"You know, Horace," he said at length, "you used to be a most agreeable young man. Whatever happened to you?"
Horace turned a wide grin on him. "I've spent too much time around you, I suppose," he said.
And Halt had to admit that was probably true.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“You're an Apprentice! You're not ready to think!"
Gilan and Halt.
The Ruins of Gorlan.”
― John Flanagan

“An ordinary archer practices until he gets it right. A ranger practices until he never gets it wrong.”
― John Flanagan, The Kings of Clonmel

“I'll think of something," he temporized, and Horace nodded wisely, satisfied that Halt would indeed think of something. In Horace's world, that was what Rangers did best, and the best thing a warrior apprentice could do was let the Ranger get on with thinking while a warrior took care of walloping anyone who needed to be walloped along the way. He settled back in the saddle, contented with his lot in life.”
― John Flanagan, The Battle for Skandia

“‎Halt looked up at the trees above him.
"Why does this boy ask so many questions?" he asked the trees.
Naturally, they didn't answer.”
― John Flanagan, The Ruins of Gorlan

“Halt shook his head. "You warriors don't do much geography in Battleschool, do you?"

Horace shrugged. "We're not big on that sort of thing. We wait for our leader to point to an enemy and say, 'Go whack him.' We leave geography and such to Rangers. We like you to feel superior."

"Go whack him, indeed," Halt said. "It must be comforting to lead such an uncomplicated life.”
― John Flanagan, The Kings of Clonmel

“Yes, I'm back," he said, "And look who I ran into."
Horace grinned at him. "i hope you ran into him hard."
"As hard as I could.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“I thought I'd stumbled on Sleeping Beauty and her ugly sister,' said another voice, 'waiting for the kiss of true love to wake them from their slumbers. Forgive me if I didn't oblige.”
― John Flanagan, The Kings of Clonmel

“Maybe we should have gone with him," he said, a few minutes after his friend was lost to sight.
"Three of us would make four times the noise he will," Halt said.
Horace frowned, not quite understanding the equation. "Wouldn't three of us make three times the noise?"
Halt shook his head. "Will and Tug will make hardly any noise. Neither will Abelard and I. But as for you and that moving earthquake you call a horse..." He gestured at Kicker and left the rest unsaid.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“He waited while Gilan and Will moved the cloaks experimentally, eyeing each other and studying the unusual colors, seeing how they would blend into the landscape of rock and desert that surrounded Al Shabah.
All right, ladies," he said, "if you're finished with the fashion show, let's go meet the Wakir.”
― John Flanagan, Erak's Ransom

“Is that all?” he blurted out.
Crowley and Halt exchanged slightly puzzled glances. Then Crowley pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“Um…it seems to be…Listed your trainging, mentioned a few achievements, made sure you know which end of an arrow is the sharp part…decided your new name…I think that’s…” Then it seemed that understanding dawned on him and his eyes opened wide.
“Of course! You have to have you Silver…whatsis, don ‘t you?” He took hold of the chain that held his own Silver Oakleaf around his throat and shook it lightly. It was a badge of a Graduate Ranger. Then he began to search through his pockets, frowning.
“Had it here! Had it here! Where the devil is it…wait. I heard something fall on the boards as I came in! Must have dropped it. Just check outside the front door, will you, Will?”
Too stunned to talk, Will rose and went to the door. As he set his hand on the latch, he looked back at the two Rangers, still seated at the table. Crowley made a small shooing motion with the back of his hand, urging him to go outside. Will was still looking back at them when he opened the door and stepped through on the verandah.
“Congratulations!”
The massive cry went up from at least forty throats. He swung around in shock to find all his friends gathered in the clearing outside around the table laid for a feast, their faces beaming with smiles. Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, Lady Pauline and Master Chubb were all there. So were Jenny and George, his former wardmates. There were a dozen others in the Ranger uniform – men he had met worked with over the past five years. And wonder of wonders, there were Erak and Svengal , bellowing his name and waving their huge axes overhead in his praise. Close by them stood Horace and Gilan, both brandishing their swords overhead as well. It looked like a dangerous section of the crowd to be in, Will thought.
After the first concerted shout, people began cheering and calling his name, laughing and waving to him.
Halt and Crowley joined him on the verandah. The Commandant was doubled over with laughter.
“Oh, if you could have seen yourself!” he wheezed. “Your face! Your face! It was priceless! ‘Is that all?’” He mimicked Will’s plaintive tones and doubled over again.
Will tuned to Halt accusingly. His teacher grinned at him.
“Your face was a study,” he said.
“Do you so that to all apprentices?” Will asked.
Halt nodded vigorously. “Every one. Stops them getting a swelled head at the last minute. You have to swear never to let an apprentice in on the secret.”
― John Flanagan, Erak's Ransom

“Halt shook his head. Frankly, he'd seen sacks of potatoes that could sit a horse better than Erak”
― John Flanagan, The Battle for Skandia

“You had this young man with you for... what, six years?"
Halt shrugged. "Near enough," he replied.
"And did you ever understand a word he was saying?"
"Not a lot of the time, no," Halt said.
Crowley shook his head in wonder. "It's just as well he didn't go into the Diplomatic Service. We'd be at war with half a dozen countries by now if he was on the loose."
Will drew a deep breath to begin talking. He noticed that both men took an involuntary half step backward and he decided he'd better try to keep it as simple as possible.”
― John Flanagan, The Sorcerer in the North

“What are you looking at, foreigner?” the guard demanded roughly. The smile was a little unsettling. A prisoner shouldn’t smile at his captors like that.
“I’m just making sure I can remember you,” Gilan told him. “Never know when that might be useful.”
― John Flanagan, Erak's Ransom

“But...what if I mistime it?"
Gilan smiled widely. "Well, in that case, I'll probably lop your head off your shoulders."

Horace and Gilan”
― John Flanagan, The Burning Bridge

“Crowley shook his head. "I sometimes wonder if it was a good idea having Halt train apprentices. He seems to teach them no respect for authority."

"Oh, he teaches us to respect authority," Gilan said innocently. "He just teaches us to ignore it when necessary.”
― John Flanagan, The Lost Stories

“They have terrified my poor wife and threatened my very person!"
Halt eyed the man impassivley until the outburst was finished.
Worse than that," he said quietly, "they've wasted my time.”
― John Flanagan, The Icebound Land

“Butterfly?" Will said. "Why Butterfly?"
"I believe it's a term of great respect," Selethen said gravely. He was very obviously not laughing. Too obviously, Will thought.
"It's all right for you," he said. "They called you 'Hawk.' Hawk is an excellent name. It's warlike and noble. But....Butterfly?
Selethen nodded. "I agree that Hawk is an entirely suitable name. I assume it had to do with my courage and nobility of heart.
Halt coughed and the Arridi lord looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"I think it referred less to your heart and more to another part of your body," Halt said mildly. He tapped his finger meaningfully along the side of his nose. It was a gesture he'd always wanted an opportunity to use, and this one was to good to miss. Selethen sniffed and turned away, affecting not to notice.”
― John Flanagan

“Young men!” he snorted to Erak. “They think a pretty face can cure every ill.”
“Some of us can remember back that far. Halt,” Erak told him with a grin. “I suppose that’s all far behind an old hack like you. Svengal told me you were settling down. Some plump, motherly widow seizing her last chance with a broken-down old gray bear, is she?”
Erak, of course, had been told by Svengal that Halt had recently married a great beauty. But he enjoyed getting a reaction from the smaller man. Halt’s one-eyed stare locked onto the Oberjarl.
“When we get back, I’d advise you not to refer to Pauline as a ‘plump, motherly widow’ in her hearing. She’s very good with that dagger she carries and you need your ears to keep that ridiculous helmet of yours in place.”
― John Flanagan, Erak's Ransom

“Horace, when you get older, try to avoid being saddled with an apprentice. Not only are they a damned nuisance, but apparently they constantly feel the need to get the better of their masters. They’re bad enough when they’re learning. But when they graduate, they become unbearable. [The Kings of Clonmel Pg.268]”
― John Flanagan, The Kings of Clonmel

“The tavern keeper, a wiry man with a sharp-nosed face, round, prominent ears and a receding hairline that combined to give him a rodentlike look, glanced at him, absentmindedly wiping a tankard with a grubby cloth. Will raised an eyebrow as he looked at it. He'd be willing to bet the cloth was transferring more dirt to the tankard then it was removing.
"Drink?" the tavern keeper asked. He set the tankard down on the bar, as if in preparation for filling it with whatever the stranger might order.
"Not out of that," Will said evenly, jerking a thumb at the tankard. Ratface shrugged, shoved it aside and produced another from a rack above the bar.
"Suit yourself. Ale or ouisgeah?"
Ousigeah, Will knew, was the strong malt spirit they distilled and drank in Hibernia. In a tavern like this, it might be more suitable for stripping runt than drinking.
"I'd like coffee," he said, noticing the battered pot by the fire at one end of the bar.
"I've got ale or ouisgeah. Take your pick." Ratface was becoming more peremptory. Will gestured toward the coffeepot. The tavern keeper shook his head.
"None made," he said. "I'm not making a new pot just for you."
"But he's drinking coffee," Will said, nodding to one side.
Inevitably the tavern keeper glanced that way, to see who he was talking about. The moment his eyes left Will, an iron grip seized the front of his shirt collar, twisting it into a knot that choked him and at the same time dragged him forward, off balance, over the bar,. The stranger's eyes were suddenly very close. He no longer looked boyish. The eyes were dark brown, almost black in this dim light, and the tavern keeper read danger there. A lot of danger. He heard a soft whisper of steel, and glancing down past the fist that held him so tightly, he glimpsed the heavy, gleaming blade of the saxe knife as the stranger laid it on the bar between them.
He looked around for possible help. But there was nobody else at the bar, and none of the customers at the tables had noticed what was going on.
"Aach...mach co'hee," he choked.
The tension on his collar eased and the stranger said softly, "What was that?"
"I'll...make...coffee," he repeated, gasping for breath.
The stranger smiled. It was a pleasant smile, but the tavern keep noticed that it never reached those dark eyes.
"That's wonderful. I'll wait here.”
― John Flanagan, Halt's Peril

“What is this Chocho business?' Will muttered to himself. But his friends overheard the comment.
'It's a term of great respect,' they chorused, and he glared at them.
'Oh, shut up,' he said.”
― John Flanagan, The Emperor of Nihon-Ja