This morning's sword play took an interesting turn. I begin each day with a bit of sword play, either on the back deck (seen by only one neighbor), or in the front of the house (seen by six neighbors). Assuming that most would be sleeping so early in the morning, I opted for the more spacious and challengingly uneven front yard.

I had finished warming up, and begun to battle my imaginary - though I see him very clearly - troll opponent. Today he was armed with a short sword, while I was armed with the sword of the joined houses (known to real life folks as Marto of Spain's Dragon Ninja). Sparring was going well, blood seeped from a wound on the troll's thigh, and I was as yet unscathed.

As I swung the sword around for a vicious back-hand slice at the troll's wide open chest, a deep voice called out, "How do you do that?"

Lowering my blade and bowing to my invisible opponent, I turned to address my laughing neighbor. "Do what, Ken?"

"Well, you really look like you are fighting with someone else, but there's no one there." Ken stated, with a chuckle. "And I just wondered what you were seeing when you were practicing."

"Ahhhh," I responded, noticing the children on the porch behind him, "this morning 'tis a troll. Terribly ugly brute, but a great sparring partner because he has such a long reach. Keeps me on my toes." I winked.

Down the steps from my neighbor's house came the grandchildren. Gullible ten and eleven year olds, with sleepy eyes.

"Can I hold your dagger?" asked the taller, pointing to the sheath at my waist.

"Indeed you may." I answered. (not bothering to say - not bothering to remark on the grammar rule of CAN vs MAY, like my mother always did). "As long as it is okay with your granddad."

My neighbor grinned widely and nodded that it was okay. The light on the dagger blade sparkled, gaining immediate approval from the granddaughter. "I like the handle." (Said 'handle' is a dragon embraced by a serpent.)

"With swords and daggers, we call that end the hilt."

She nodded. An early lesson on weaponry learned. "Do your really see trolls?" she asked, looking up at me with wide brown eyes.

"Aye, I do," I admitted. "They are large and quite frightening, which is why I keep them in my stories. That way they cannot get loose to terrorize the neighborhood."

"I have an imaginary friend." Her younger brother said, looking at me, waiting for my disbelief.

"Human or not?" I asked, and received a wide grin for my unwavering belief.

"Nope, he is a badger."

"They make great friends, badgers do. They are tough in a fight and very loyal." I replied, reclaiming my dagger from Granddaughter. "Now you must excuse me, for my opponent grows impatient."

My neighbor gathered his grandchildren, waved and returned to his porch. They watched until the final disembowelment...the troll's, not mine.