II. Reading

2.1. Understanding the title.

The title of the story, The Quirin's Secret, implies some mystery to be unraveled. The word itself, quirin, is enigmatic. In fact, it might mean a stone with magical powers. What do you think the story will tell about?

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story and answer the question: Was it magic that helped Arin in the end?

The following words will be helpful to understand the events better.

Shimmer— shine with a soft trembling light.

Fling — throw with a lot of force.

Glimmer — shine with alight that is not bright.

Yawn — open your mouth wide, sleepily.

Give forth— produce and spread.

Rim — the outside edge of something circular.

Wistful – feeling rather sad and thoughtful.

Content —happy and satisfied.

Back when the world was young and full of wonders, just for joy a boy named Arin went up the mountain one day. In the heathery meadow above his village he found a lapwing's nest and crouched to look at seven freckled, pointed eggs. There amid the eggs lay the quirin.

It was a stone no bigger than the lapwing's eggs, round on top and flat underneath and so shimmery that Arin knew it was magical. It glimmered all colors and no color that anyone could name. He picked it up and couldn't feel it in his hand. It was the quirin, the sooth stone. Laid on the head of anyone who was sleeping, it would make that person tell secrets.

Arin held the quirin in his hand, and his heart beat like a bird's wings. Now he would learn the truth. He would prove what he'd often dreamed, that he wasn't just a cowherd's son; he was a king's son! Or a knight's son at least. His parents had found him on the mountain when he was a baby, perhaps. He lived in a leaky hut by mistake. Magic came to those in need, didn't it? The quirin had come to him because he needed to find his father the king.

He slipped the quirin into his pocket, where it lay hot and weightless like an angel's feather. He walked carefully down the mountain, feeling the magic glimmering with every step. Tonight he would learn the truth and tomorrow he would journey over the mountain and far away to where the golden cities waited.

"Arin, gather kindling," his mother called to him.

"Arin, bring the cows up from the water," his father told him.

"Arin, find me clay to play with," his little sister begged him.

Arin did what they asked without complaining. It was only for one more day.

There wasn't quite enough to eat at supper. Arin shared without complaining. It was only for one more day.

The hut was too small for beds. When day turned to night Arin unrolled his sleeping mat like the others and lay on dirt floor with his sister on one side, his parents on the other it was only for one more day. Besides, tonight he wouldn't sleep. Tonight he would find out the name of his father the king. Then he'd never sleep on the floor again.

In his pocket he could feel the quirin's heat.

He lay awake and waited. He heard his sister's breathing soften as she slept. The village voices hushed, but insects were talking. Up in the mountain pines, an owl spoke like a ghost. The night was dark, dark. Somewhere far away wolves sang.

When Arin heard the wolves, he knew it was the bottom of night, when sleepers lie deepest in their dreams. Careful to make no sound, he sat up and pulled the quirin from his pocket.

It gave forth a whisper of pearly light, lying like a baby moon of all colors and no color in his hand. By its glow mother looked young, silky, her hair parted into two smooth dark wings. He laid the quirin between those wings and sat by her, listening for her secret.

Her mouth moved. She spoke in her sleep.

"I love him more than anyone," she whispered, "and worry about him more than anyone. He is my son, Arin. Today he was content, but why does he so often seem unhappy? He is a fine arrow of a boy who will be able to do anything. Why does he look beyond the mountain and sigh?"

She fell silent. Arin waited a little longer — perhaps she would say again that she loved him. But then he reminded himself that he had a journey to plan. It must be that his mother didn't know the name of his father the king. Carefully he lifted the quirin from her forehead.

By the stone's magical light, his father looked handsome, hair curled back from his brow like a tawny crown. Arin placed the quirin under the rim of that crown, on his father's forehead. He knelt, listening for his father's secret. Without opening his eyes, his father spoke. "That boy of mine, Arin, he's dreaming again. He tends cows, he's dreaming of horses. He finds clay, he's dreaming of gold. I'm his father; I wish I could make him happy, but I can't. He has to learn for himself that happiness is in his hand."

Arin's father stopped speaking. Arin knelt, waiting a long time, wanting to hear again the wistful way his father had said his name, wanting his father to whisper more of the secret of happiness, wanting his father — but wait, wasn't he a king's son after all? Was he going to have to herd cows and gather kindling the rest of his life?

At such a thought he wanted to fling the quirin out the door. If this was the truth, he didn't want to hear it.

But he had to lift the quirin carefully so as not to awaken his father. And when he held it in his hand once more, he couldn't throw it away. It shimmered so much like an angel's wing. In its light his little sister's face looked as wise as that of a saint.

He laid the quirin gently on her forehead.

She opened her soft mouth and said, "Today the sky was as blue as Daddy's eyes, and the heather bloomed and Mommy wore some in her hair, and Arin brought me clay, and I am so happy."

She smiled in her sleep but said nothing more. Arin waited awhile longer, then lifted the quirin from her forehead and slipped it into his pocket. He lay down and stared into the darkness.

He hadn't noticed the sky as blue as his father's eyes or heather in his mother's hair. He lay thinking until a pearly glow took away the/darkness, the no-color, all-colors glimmer of dawn. His mother stirred, yawned, sat up, and smiled at him "Good morning, sleepyhead." He hadn't slept. Yet he smiled back at her.

"It looks like a fine day."

He nodded.

"Let your father sleep a little longer. Go for water, Arin."

He got up, took the buckets, and started toward the river. But when he got outside, he stopped and looked around at the clay-tawny, sky-blue, heather-green world shimmering with dew.

Only for one more day? No. All days. Every day Wing beats sounded. Against the sky Arin saw a bird's white breast and crown of feathers. It flew within his arm's reach, landed on the ground at his feet, folded its glossy wings, and looked up at

him.

He knew what it wanted. Magic is meant for those in need.

"Here, lapwing." He pulled the quirin from his pocket, crouched down, and offered it in his open hand. The lapwing called out one wild note, took the stone in its beak, and flew. In a moment it was gone over the mountaintop.

Arin stood looking after it for a long time. But even though the quirin was gone, he still held happiness in his hand. His heart beat like angel wings with gladness that he wouldn't have to leave his family. It would be a good day for tending cows and finding some more clay, the best red clay, for his sister. He breathed deeply, loving the scent of heather in the air. The sky was as blue as his father's kind eyes, the air as soft as his mother's smile.

2.3. True or false?

Arin hoped the stone would help him to find out who he really was.

It was a revelation for Arin to know about his parents' love for him.

Arin didn't use the stone as he was content with what he had.

Arin's parents neither understood nor suspected anything about him.

The life of the family was hard but they were satisfied with it.

Arin was secretly disappointed that his dream hadn't come true.

2.4. Understanding points of view.

Scan the story and try to explain what the characters meant (even if they were talking in their sleep).

"Magic is meant for those in need."

"Why does he look beyond the mountain and sigh?

"He finds clay, he's dreaming of gold."

"He has to learn for himself that happiness is in his hand."

"Only for one more day? No. All days. Every day."

"It would be a good day for tending cows."

2.5. Grammar.

Laid on the forehead of anyone who was sleeping, the quirin would make that person tell secrets. Say what the quirin made the characters do, using the table below.

The quirin

made

Arin Arin's mother say Arin's father see Arin's sister whisper...

realize

2.6. More grammar.

Consulting the text if necessary, complete the following comparisons. They are charming and magical, aren't they?

e.g. As sharp as my kid sister's tongue...

As blue as... As nice as...

As soft as... As wise as...

As sharp as... As wondrous as...

As poisonous as... As frightening as ...

As miraculous as... As transparent as...

Think of and produce some other comparisons, equally striking.

2.7. Metaphors.

Arin's mother speaks beautifully about her son: "He is a fine arrow of a boy..." It is a metaphor, and a very effective way to create a striking image. We see at once that Arin is a young, slim, swiftly-moving creature. How do you see the other characters of the story?

Arin's father is a________ of a man.

Arin's mother is a ________of a woman.

Arin's sister is a ________of a girl.

Can you describe other people? Do you remember having a tutor who was a pretty blackboard of a teacher? Trying not to offend anyone, think of as many fresh metaphors as you can.

2.8. Vocabulary in stone.

It's not easy, but let us become more stone-wise. Find an appropriate definition from the list below to the following stones: jade, onyx, emerald, diamond, ruby, opal, sapphire, turquoise.

1. A white milky stone with changing colors in it.

2. A bright blue or greenish-blue stone.

3. A transparent bright blue stone.

4. A dark red transparent stone.

5. A transparent bright green stone.

6. A hard stone, usually green.

7. A very hard stone of no particular color.

8. A stone with lines of different color in it.

Do you have your "own" stone? Have you ever been in possession of any precious or semi-precious stone? Share your a-sione-ishing story with the group.