Personality: Schmendrick is, at heart, a true and kind man. He does nothing out of spite or malice; at worst, his actions are fueled by his greatest desire: to become a real magician. Even then, however, his self-importance does little to hinder his kind nature, and he is always trying to help his friends when he can. For all of his hidden nobility, however, Schmendrick is indeed incompetent and does have a bitter streak within him. He's well aware of his shortcomings as a magician, and though he strives to overcome them, sometimes his own incompetence makes him reluctant to try anything past juggling oranges.
Other: Because the film version of The Last Unicorn was adapted from the novel by the author, I'm using a little of the book's back-story when it comes to Schmendrick, who got a little bit of a short stick in the movie. I'll also be taking him from before the story begins, while he's still with Mommy Fortuna and they are sans a unicorn.
Additional Links:Schmendrick's finest hour (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCvEL41kIQg). Also, the Schmendrick fanlisting (http://fangirlisms.com/fls/schmendrick/about.php).
First Person (entry type): I'm always in a predicament when I think I need to write something down, because whenever I get to my pen and paper, the thing I wanted to write down isn't in my head any more. It's a daft, dumb thing of mine. What I was going to write down, that is. They were some words for the summoning of beasts. Nikos never once had to write a thing down, not when it came to magic. He could just say the words, and they'd do exactly what he wanted them to. Me, I can't even turn an acorn into a tree. I can do the illusions, sure, but I can never remember the words.
Last night, I tried to pull a rabbit from my hat, mispronounced a word and ended up with a Gila monster instead. Those sorts of things are easy to play off to a crowd but they certainly don't help me any, do they? I'm this much closer to convince the magic to work, but by this much I mean there's a whole world between us. "Etu belarius vinu," those were the words. Or maybe "venue." Better try both.
Third Person: The rain that day was even more terrible than the day before. It was the sort of rain you usually only received in warmer, more equatorial areas of the world, where the air was hot and humid while the rain itself barely rose above blisteringly cold, and it came down thicker than bedsheets. Schmendrick was forced to take cover under the overhang of one of the cages of Mommy Fortuna's carnival, hat hanging miserably low as he listened to the dog-turned-hellhound whine and bark at the animals rushing from the shelter of one tree to another. Mommy Fortuna hardly noticed the rain, nor Ruhk; they were both well used to the repugnant weather, while Schmendrick still had the naivety necessary to dislike heat, humidity, hail and the like.
"If you're so miserable," Fortuna shouted suddenly, drawing Schmendrick away from his attempt to turn a palmful of raindrops into wine, "Why don't you make it stop?"
Ruhk and Fortuna both laughed uproariously at the idea of Schmendrick being able to stop anything at all, which only served to aggravate the wizard. "Maybe I will," he responded, before holding his hands out and saying a few words in a stern, fatherly voice. Around him, the rain heated and the sky cooled, and briefly he imagined that the rain altogether halted its fall, fighting gravity for a moment because he, Schmendrick the Magician, had commanded it.
It was such an exhilarating feeling that Schmendrick whooped for joy - he had stopped the rain! Unfortunately, his excitement ruined his concentration and the rain, which had been building above him, let loose and dropped on top of him like a twenty-pound weight. Ruhk laughed louder than ever; however, the sulking magician noticed that Fortuna had fallen silent, and was looking backwards at him with such an intense gaze that, for a moment, Schmendrick regretted using his power at all. For if Fortuna ever figured out just what he was capable of... Well. He would end up like the dog in the cage. And a cage, Schmendrick knew, was no place for an immortal.
Schmendrick the Magician [2/2]
Other: Because the film version of The Last Unicorn was adapted from the novel by the author, I'm using a little of the book's back-story when it comes to Schmendrick, who got a little bit of a short stick in the movie. I'll also be taking him from before the story begins, while he's still with Mommy Fortuna and they are sans a unicorn.
Additional Links: Schmendrick's finest hour (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCvEL41kIQg). Also, the Schmendrick fanlisting (http://fangirlisms.com/fls/schmendrick/about.php).
First Person (entry type):
I'm always in a predicament when I think I need to write something down, because whenever I get to my pen and paper, the thing I wanted to write down isn't in my head any more. It's a daft, dumb thing of mine. What I was going to write down, that is. They were some words for the summoning of beasts. Nikos never once had to write a thing down, not when it came to magic. He could just say the words, and they'd do exactly what he wanted them to. Me, I can't even turn an acorn into a tree. I can do the illusions, sure, but I can never remember the words.
Last night, I tried to pull a rabbit from my hat, mispronounced a word and ended up with a Gila monster instead. Those sorts of things are easy to play off to a crowd but they certainly don't help me any, do they? I'm this much closer to convince the magic to work, but by this much I mean there's a whole world between us. "Etu belarius vinu," those were the words. Or maybe "venue." Better try both.
Third Person:
The rain that day was even more terrible than the day before. It was the sort of rain you usually only received in warmer, more equatorial areas of the world, where the air was hot and humid while the rain itself barely rose above blisteringly cold, and it came down thicker than bedsheets. Schmendrick was forced to take cover under the overhang of one of the cages of Mommy Fortuna's carnival, hat hanging miserably low as he listened to the dog-turned-hellhound whine and bark at the animals rushing from the shelter of one tree to another. Mommy Fortuna hardly noticed the rain, nor Ruhk; they were both well used to the repugnant weather, while Schmendrick still had the naivety necessary to dislike heat, humidity, hail and the like.
"If you're so miserable," Fortuna shouted suddenly, drawing Schmendrick away from his attempt to turn a palmful of raindrops into wine, "Why don't you make it stop?"
Ruhk and Fortuna both laughed uproariously at the idea of Schmendrick being able to stop anything at all, which only served to aggravate the wizard. "Maybe I will," he responded, before holding his hands out and saying a few words in a stern, fatherly voice. Around him, the rain heated and the sky cooled, and briefly he imagined that the rain altogether halted its fall, fighting gravity for a moment because he, Schmendrick the Magician, had commanded it.
It was such an exhilarating feeling that Schmendrick whooped for joy - he had stopped the rain! Unfortunately, his excitement ruined his concentration and the rain, which had been building above him, let loose and dropped on top of him like a twenty-pound weight. Ruhk laughed louder than ever; however, the sulking magician noticed that Fortuna had fallen silent, and was looking backwards at him with such an intense gaze that, for a moment, Schmendrick regretted using his power at all. For if Fortuna ever figured out just what he was capable of... Well. He would end up like the dog in the cage. And a cage, Schmendrick knew, was no place for an immortal.