Alla här tror ju ändå att jag är knäpp. Så här är tråden som bevisar det =P
Så till att börja med:
Jag råkar faktiskt gilla Steven. Minst lika mycket som Theo. So sue me. Men lilla Luke är fan de sötaste unge som sett på en tv.
Matilda får ett autistiskt shut down i Quiet.
Rings of Power är fortfarande skitdålig.
Tack för att ni läste, och att ni tycker om mitt "språk".
Och självklart är alla tankar, åsikter och analyser välkomna =p
Tack för att ni läste, och att ni tycker om mitt "språk".
Och självklart är alla tankar, åsikter och analyser välkomna =p
Tack för att ni läste, och att ni tycker om mitt "språk".
Och självklart är alla tankar, åsikter och analyser välkomna =p
Och nu, något annat....
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The glade with the giant oak tree with silver-tinted leaves is alive with color fluttering hither and through, a rainbow's worth. The four city youths stood for a moment, gaping.
"Fairies", Elril breathed in awe.
"Fairies", Irestor confirms, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to just walk into a glade full of fairies. Maybe it was, for the elf.
Out of nowhere, a fairy popped up right in front of Irestor's nose. A very small young woman, with with long grey hair and silver eyes, dressed in orange leaves. Her wings were like a butterfly's, with the same blue color as Irestor's eyes, and on her face, she wore an expression of mixed anger and glee.
"Irestor", she cried out. "You're back! Where have you been, you haven't been here for ages, you meanie! Not since I gave you your new boots! You haven't even sent me a falcon since, you meanie!" Then she catches sight of Elril, Adomorn, Zanedithas and Aylonna. "Oh, oh, oh! Are they humans? I've never seen humans before, you never bring me any, you meanie. Are those boys? Why are the boys naked? Is she a girl? I think she is a girl. Why are the boys naked, but not the girl? Don't they know it's slaktirmaithir? They'll freeze to death. You should give them some clothes. But you're back, you big meanie!" And then she promptly hugged Irestor's nose.
"I missed you too, Tilja", Irestor replied. Elril felt entirely out of breath from the fairy's harangue. "And the boys are not naked, they're in their long-shirts."
Tilja abandoned Irestor's nose to flutter in front of the humans, inspecting their scant attire. Then she fluttered back to Irestor and said in a non-whisper:
"I think the boys' long-shirts are not quite long enough. Things... are showing..."
Irestor suppressed a snort.
Elril's mind was reeling from trying to take it all in. All the fairytales that he grew up hearing, grew up telling, have sprung to life in front of him, and all it took to get to see it was to be sentenced to death. A little drastic, in his opinion. An elf. A glade full of fairies, one of whom was evidently quite chatty. Irestor was quite different here than he had been all morning. Quiet on the verge of dour, their savior and subsequent guide had transformed into something almost friendly and happy. Elril decided it must be hard to keep one's reserved dignity when someone is hugging your nose.
"Slaktirmaithir", Adomorn said slowly, tasting the world. "Sounds like a longer version of Slamath."
"Trust humans to make a lazy bastardization of my people's language", Irestor frowned.
Tilja the fairy rounds Irestor again to flutter in front of the humans. "Yes", she said in a lecturing voice. "Slakthirmaithir. The maithir when you go on your last hunts before winter."
"You made Irestor's boots", Aylonna put in curiously. "Twenty years ago?"
"Yes" Tilja replied curtly. "And he never even thanked me twice."
Elril grinned. Fascinated by the whole situation, he tried not to make any sudden moves, fearing he would startle, or more probably anger, the tiny being with the blue butterfly wings. The idea that Irestor would be ingrateful for a pair of boots for 20 years made him want to laugh, but he dared not.
"Tilja", Irestor said, voice soft and quiet, turning to them. "Take the humans downstairs. They need rest, warmth, food, and, yes, clothes. And probably a bath. I'll", his eyes grew distant. "I'll visit the thinking pools." And with that, Irestor shed his heavy cloak, his weapons, and his traveling bags, and walked away. Tilja watched him go, concern on her face. Then she turned back to the humans. "This way", she said cheerfully, and flutterd off towards the great oak.
Och nu, något annat något annat. Detta riskerar att bli långt. Och i flera delar. Över kanske några dagar.
Igen, som jag skrev till Fredrik förut, om det är svårläst på engelska, släng in det i Google Translate. Inte perfektt, men hjälper kanske.
Detta är en sk first draft skriven igår och idag så verkligen råmaterial.
_________________________________
Rowan Glaros is on his way home. For the first time in 6 years, he's going home to Embrim, and his family. And how long had it been before then? Three years? Four? He'd left for his travels when he was 20.
There is so much he needs to share with them. So many discoveries, so much new knowledge. And Eiri. Rowan looks over at Eiri. The elf sits opposite him, staring out of the carriage window. He looks tired and thoughtful. No wonder, they've been on the road for two weeks. My bonded, Rowan thought affectionately, my darling future husband. My sweet mystery. Strange how we could live out whole childhoods in the same city and not meet until we were at the other side of Reutervit, a whole Realm away.
Rowan had to wonder how his family would react to meeting Eiri. In fact, he hasn't even told them Eiri exists. For some reason, it always felt wrong to him to put that in letters. His siblings would be thrilled, he was sure. His father would be warmly accepting, probably while surprised. His mother, temporarily disappointed. After all, her son was bringing home an elven man, instead of a human woman. There would not be a lot of prospects for grandchildren by her oldest son with that. But she would accept the arrangement, Rowan was sure. If nothing else, Eiri's quiet charm would win her over.
Rowan reached out and took Eiri's hand, intertwining their fingers. Eiri's hand is ice cold, as usual. Rowan had noted earlier that his love didn't seem to understand the concept of gloves. Eiri's thoughtful expression, lightly chewing the inside of his lower lip, prompted Rowan to ask: "Are you worried?"
"Are you sure this is wise", Eiri asked. "Will your family really accept this? I am an elf, a man, and a mage. Gods know my family would not, were I to tell them."
Mildly surprised that Eiri even mentioned his family, Rowan rubbed Eiri's thumb with his own. "My family is not like yours", he said reassuringly. Truth is, he knows very little about Eiri's family, beyond the fact that they had some sort of falling out 11 years ago when Eiri was 17. "My parents might be mildly questioning for three minutes, but then they will see you as I do; as an intelligent, gifted mage and a caring, loving person with a heart of gold. You'll fit right in, whatever they might be expecting from me before they meet you."
Rowan let go of Eiri's hand, placed it on his cheek instead, and smiled conspiratorially. "And if they don't, we can always run away together."
Eiri scoffed with a smile, took Rowan's hand, and pressed it against his lips. "Know that if my father finds out that I'm back in the city, you will have to deal with an abduction in addition to that other investigation you're working on." Then, almost nonchalantly, he turned his gaze back to the city and sea ahead.
A chill ran down Rowan's spine. Did Eiri really just say that he is in danger of abduction of his own family if he returns to his hometown? What, by the Celestial Threads, is that family? A cult? "Is that a real danger", he asked. "And if it is, I...", Rowan studied Eiri's profile, half-lit by the gloomy sky. There was no hint of jest, just his usual beautiful and quietly reserved elven features. "Not while I breathe", he vowed quietly. Realizing that Eiri was still holding his hand, he traced a protection spell across its back, just in case. "You should tell me what your father might actually try", he prompted. "In case you need protection."
"One thing at a time, love", Eiri replied softly. "Now I want to gather what courage I can to meet your family." Reluctantly, Rowan accepted that need and they spent the rest of the carriage ride in silence.
An hour later, in the twilight just after sunset, Rowan stood on the steps of his lavish childhood home on the outer edge of Embrim's Human Noble's Quarters. The stone facade is festooned with Solstice decor, a wreath of evergreen branches and silver silk bands hangs on the deep red door. A familiar mix of anticipation and comfort filled Rowan, coming home might be one of the best feelings in the world. "Ready", he asked Eiri, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on his lover's travelling cloak. Not waiting for a reply, he knocked at the door.
The door opened, and the pair on the steps got a moment's glimpse of Madame Norha, the Glaros' family housekeeper, before they were greeted by two large, white dogs, demanding immediate attention from their returning master. Tails wagging, the two large Reutervitian Shepherds tried their best to jump up on Rowan, sniffing packs and entangling themselves in his cloak. Laughing, Rowan cries out; "Frost! Storm! Get down, you magnificent beasts." Rowan gave them both a good scratch, glancing over at Eiri. The elf looked a little taken aback and apprehensive, but also quite amused.
"Madame Norha", Rowan grinned, observing the housekeeper's mixed look of disapproval and fond tolerance. "Welcome home, Master Rowan", she said, stepping aside to make room for them to come inside. "All well here? Everybody home", Rowan asked, shooing the dogs inside, pulling Eiri and their packs in behind them. "All is well", Madame Norha nodded, giving Eiri a scrutinizing look as he entered. "Your Lady Mother is busy planning next week's Solstice Feast and entertaining your sister's baby at the same time, and your Lord Father hasn't left his study since Lord Harmod arrived with some astrological charts or other three days ago. Alissa is resting after a bout of the flu and Kara, Wil, and Sari are, as usual, nowhere to be seen unless there is food."
Och nu, något annat något annat. Detta riskerar att bli långt. Och i flera delar. Över kanske några dagar.
Igen, som jag skrev till Fredrik förut, om det är svårläst på engelska, släng in det i Google Translate. Inte perfektt, men hjälper kanske.
Detta är en sk first draft skriven igår och idag så verkligen råmaterial.
_________________________________
Rowan Glaros is on his way home. For the first time in 6 years, he's going home to Embrim, and his family. And how long had it been before then? Three years? Four? He'd left for his travels when he was 20.
There is so much he needs to share with them. So many discoveries, so much new knowledge. And Eiri. Rowan looks over at Eiri. The elf sits opposite him, staring out of the carriage window. He looks tired and thoughtful. No wonder, they've been on the road for two weeks. My bonded, Rowan thought affectionately, my darling future husband. My sweet mystery. Strange how we could live out whole childhoods in the same city and not meet until we were at the other side of Reutervit, a whole Realm away.
Rowan had to wonder how his family would react to meeting Eiri. In fact, he hasn't even told them Eiri exists. For some reason, it always felt wrong to him to put that in letters. His siblings would be thrilled, he was sure. His father would be warmly accepting, probably while surprised. His mother, temporarily disappointed. After all, her son was bringing home an elven man, instead of a human woman. There would not be a lot of prospects for grandchildren by her oldest son with that. But she would accept the arrangement, Rowan was sure. If nothing else, Eiri's quiet charm would win her over.
Rowan reached out and took Eiri's hand, intertwining their fingers. Eiri's hand is ice cold, as usual. Rowan had noted earlier that his love didn't seem to understand the concept of gloves. Eiri's thoughtful expression, lightly chewing the inside of his lower lip, prompted Rowan to ask: "Are you worried?"
"Are you sure this is wise", Eiri asked. "Will your family really accept this? I am an elf, a man, and a mage. Gods know my family would not, were I to tell them."
Mildly surprised that Eiri even mentioned his family, Rowan rubbed Eiri's thumb with his own. "My family is not like yours", he said reassuringly. Truth is, he knows very little about Eiri's family, beyond the fact that they had some sort of falling out 11 years ago when Eiri was 17. "My parents might be mildly questioning for three minutes, but then they will see you as I do; as an intelligent, gifted mage and a caring, loving person with a heart of gold. You'll fit right in, whatever they might be expecting from me before they meet you."
Rowan let go of Eiri's hand, placed it on his cheek instead, and smiled conspiratorially. "And if they don't, we can always run away together."
Eiri scoffed with a smile, took Rowan's hand, and pressed it against his lips. "Know that if my father finds out that I'm back in the city, you will have to deal with an abduction in addition to that other investigation you're working on." Then, almost nonchalantly, he turned his gaze back to the city and sea ahead.
Hej Aniiee, jag har skickat ett PM till dig.
Förlåt förlåt, off topic.
Ok, jag känner att måste byta tillbaka tempus..... Jag började uppenbarligen på ett, bytte (tanklöst).... Men det är ju detta first drafts är till för... suck....
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Rowan chuckles. "Some things never change", he muses. Then he turns to Eiri. "Let's go to my room, settle in and freshen up. Father's study is on the way, so if you don't mind, we'll drop in on him, just briefly."
"I'll have your things brought up", Madame Norha puts in. "The family has already had dinner, so I'll send up some tea as well."
"Thank you", Rowan smiles. "Make sure it's hot. Eiri is, as always, colder than is wise."
Then Rowan leads Eiri up the stairs and through a warren of corridors. Eiri can feel the warmth of family and life, and protective spells. The people who live here care for each other. The corridors are decorated for the Solstice. The dogs are padding along behind them. It feels like a home.
The door to Rowan's father's study is open. Inside, two men stand by a large desk, pouring over papers. The room smells like old books, ink, candle wax, and tobacco. Rowan gives the door frame a sharp rap.
"Father", he beams, walking in unprompted.
"There he is", Rowan's father exclaims, looking up. "The prodigal son returns at last!" He turns to his companion. "Harmod, you remember my eldest, Rowan? I think you only met the one time, just before he left to see the world."
Harmod rounds the desk and offers Rowan his hand in greeting with a warm smile.
"Your father speaks so highly of you that one might believe that you were sent by the gods themselves", he says as they shake hands. "And you didn't come home alone." Both older men look curiously at Eiri.
Rowan grabs Eiri and pulls him forward. "Father, meet my partner, Eiri Koris", he says in a jovial but finite tone. "Eiri, this is my father,Lord Terran Glaros, and Lord Harmod Seths." Eiri gives them a small bow. "It's an honor", he says. Rowan, scrutinizing his father's face for his reaction, is dismayed. Lord Terran, and Lord Harmod, look confused. Just as he is about to make an argument for his choice, his father exclaims: "Eiri Koris? I thought you died. 10 years ago."