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#1 | |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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Quote:
Westron wasn't universal even among the elves with their facility for languages and all the time at their disposal. Haldir was definitely rusty and his brothers didn't speak it hardly at all.... Anyway I have finally reconstructed my post.. ![]() Last edited by Mithalwen; 07-06-2015 at 02:12 PM. |
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#2 |
A Voice That Gainsayeth
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: In that far land beyond the Sea
Posts: 7,431
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I am finally back from my two-week retreat into absolute wilderness... it's great to see the posting activity. I really liked everything so far, great stuff
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"Should the story say 'he ate bread,' the dramatic producer can only show 'a piece of bread' according to his taste or fancy, but the hearer of the story will think of bread in general and picture it in some form of his own." -On Fairy-Stories |
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#3 | |
Messenger of Hope
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,076
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-- Folwren
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A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. - C.S. Lewis |
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#4 | ||
Shady She-Penguin
Join Date: Dec 2004
Location: In a far land beyond the Sea
Posts: 8,093
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HEY, WILHEARD ISN'T DEAD. WULFRIC IS.
Seriously though, you guys make me giggle, both in the game thread and here. ![]() As for the language issue, LMP is quoting canon, but I still find it a little odd all the peasants in Rohan would speak the common tongue, as they have very limited contact with outsiders. Basically what Mith said. Quote:
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Like the stars chase the sun, over the glowing hill I will conquer Blood is running deep, some things never sleep Double Fenris
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#5 | |
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat.....
Posts: 7,779
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Once the tricksy Computer Vala has decided to let you keep your post, just put it on this thread and tell me which post you need it edited into (name of original poster and the post #, please). And whether you want it above or below the original poster's post. ~*~ Pio ![]()
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside. |
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#6 | ||||
Blossom of Dwimordene
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: The realm of forgotten words
Posts: 10,486
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And aww, I'm sorry your post keeps doing that! I hate when that happens. ![]()
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You passed from under darkened dome, you enter now the secret land. - Take me to Finrod's fabled home!... ~ Finrod: The Rock Opera |
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#7 |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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I have resorted to old school paper ..with a fountain pen. That jolly well stays written. Will type up tomorrow... thanks Pio et al...
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace |
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#8 |
Quill Revenant
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Wandering through the Downs.....
Posts: 849
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Arry and U -- left you a hook to interject as you wish.
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’ – Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age' |
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#9 |
Shade of Carn Dűm
Join Date: Mar 2005
Posts: 400
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I think Fana will want to chime in
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Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . . |
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#10 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 704
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Nice start to a story, Envin!
I noticed that Gran chimed in, too. What's the "two hawks" reference she muttered there at the end? Anyway, I will write a little something for the boys later on this evening. - A -
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien |
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#11 | |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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Quote:
Elfthain "Can't you get me out of it Uncle? I am your shield bearer? " Elfthain had asked on the eve of departure. The boy had looked hopeful but his uncle laughed but with a hint of sadness and shook his head. " You expect me to countermand both your mother and the king? You are still on leave and to risk such folly I would have to think it a bad idea. And I am sorry 'Thain but I don't". The boy looked a little hurt and Elwin raised his hand to stem the budding protest. "You are my sister-son and I love you just as much as my own children - for your own sake, as well as hers, and that of your father who was my dearest friend ; but you are not a child anymore and the time for playing is over. I know your heart isn't in soldiering... and really I don't mind. You are lucky enough to have a choice.." Elfthain hung his head at this - he knew his father and uncle had been scarce older than him when they rode to Gondor in the great War, "but whatever you do, you should do it wholeheartedly. Your mother has worked very hard to keep the estate going for you - it hasn't been easy for her and she has sacrificed much. If you intend to take control when you are of age, you need to do things properly. She raised you better than to be the sort of landlord who gives a few orders to his steward and sits back and collects the rents" "I do know uncle..and I do want to farm.. farm properly.. it was just mother took it the wrong way.." His uncle grinned and commented that from what he had heard there wasn't a good way to take what had been said. Elfthain realised that further discussion would be fruitless. It was clear that his remaining leave would be spent sloshing through the mud to some forsaken place rather than in the restored comfort of Upbourn Grange, finally emptied of the many villagers and estate tenants who had taken refuge there during the worst of the winter for economy of fuel and other reasons. Only the foundling remained and it seemed was unlikely to be going anywhere soon: In the midwinter a woman had been found in the woods at Upbourn, dying of hunger and exposure, and sheltering beneath her cloak was a young girl, a toddling thing, little more than a baby. The woman seemed to be of the Eorlings but the child's hair was as dark as a raven's wing and as healthy as the woman was ailing. Clearly all resources had been devoted to the little girl. They had done all they could for the woman but to no avail and she had died without giving much clue to their identity. The child had been no help, unable to provide even her own name she had been addressed as "poppet" so often that she had ended up calling herself Poppy and it has stuck. And Elfthain's mother, Elfride, had seemingly become besotted by the little girl to a point that worried her son. Some might have said he was jealous unused for many years to sharing maternal affection and attention but for the most part his concern was genuine... a strange light seemed to come into her eyes at times when she held the child, fierce and defensive as if she might never let her go. And he worried about her health too..she was thinner than Elfthain had ever known her. Elfride had put all her energy into getting the village through the winter, taking minimum rations herself to leave more for the still-growing young, the ill, women with child or nurslings. By and large she had succeeded. There had been deaths of course - cold could be helped but the toll of years could not yet few died who might ordinarily have been expected to see Spring and all from mischance in the extreme conditions rather than starvation or cold. Save the stranger... So it was not to be wondered that Elfride, exhausted, had responded badly to her son both querying her attachment to the child and saying that things should be easier now the snow had gone. He had received a lecture as to how she was perfectly aware that Poppy wasn't hers, let alone her lost daughter returned and then a detailed breakdown of how parlous the situation still was - they had depleted the firewood stored to season for next winter and the portion of the crops reserved for seed, many animals had been culled to save feed and so there would be fewer eggs, less cheese and butter, rations would be short until first harvest and perhaps after since they should do all to prepare lest this Winter not be a one off. Thought would have to be given to preserving as much as possible and to repairing and refurbishing the villagers and tenants homes to insulate them better against the cold. It was not going to be easy at all. And so it had chanced that this exchange had been vastly ill timed, early on the day his mother had been summoned to Edoras to report on what supplies they had left and what could be spared for the succour of the outlands. And since his mother had been raised at court and had known Eomer since childhood the audience had moved on from the requisition to comparing notes on the hazards of raising sons. The upshot had been that it had been decided it would be good for him to be part of the escort and to see first hand how much worse the Winter had been in the remoter areas and he had been despatched along with the waggons to Edoras with barely time to gather his belongings let alone change his mother's mind. And Poppy had formally been placed in his mother's care until such time as her kin could be traced. "Mother, will be alright won't she Uncle?" Elfthain queried as he made his final preparations. "Cenric says women go strange and witless around her age..." Elwin made a noise between a choke and a snort and then erupted in laughter so violent his nephew feared he might injure himself. "I strongly advise you not to repeat that in your mother's hearing... but if you do I beg you give me sufficient notice that I may charge admission to the spectacle". His sister was still only in her 35th year and was far from losing her wits, though she had lost her temper with her lackadaisical son. Cenric was another esquire and inclined to give Elfthain rather dubious advice based on his six months seniority in age. "My horse knows more of the womanly mind than Cenric and would give you better counsel..." Elfthain ruffled his nephew's curly hair and became more serious. "My sister has more mothering in her than even the most demanding only chick could exhaust, Elfthain, and now you are almost fledged and away, do not grudge her the pleasure of having a child in the house - even if it is only for a little while". Elfthain gulped and focussed hard on the strap he was fastening. It was nearly time to go and the courtyard was full of loaded carts, horses, those who were to travel and those who were seeing them safely on their way. "Tell mother I am sorry won't you?" "You can tell her yourself," Elwin gestured and Elfthain saw his mother making her way through the melee on her grey palfrey, the child Poppy, seated before her. "I had to bring her" Elfride stated, by way of a greeting, dismounting and settling the little girl on her own two feet "there was no time to leave her with anyone and I couldn't let you go with only the memory of hard words." Elfthain's glib tongue nearly pre-empted his brain to say he was only going to Scarburg not war but he stopped himself just in time. Instead he crouched down and scooped up Poppy who was trying to hide behind his mother's skirts. "Will you look after Mother for me while I am gone?". The little girl nodded solemnly though he doubted she truly understood what he said. He planted a gentle kiss on her brow before putting her back down and addressing Elfride. "I am sorry, I will try to make you proud of me". "I already am. Come home soon, come home safe!". With that the muster horn had sounded and there had been time for little more as he had made ready to ride. A salute to his uncle and a bow to his mother and he had taken his place in the convoy momentarily at least resolved to make good his promise. Elfthain might have even enjoyed the journey over unfamiliar territory had its leader been more inspiring or even cheerful and the pace less glacial. Usually of a lighter hearted disposition, he had followed the example of his commander. His resolution failing in the lack of opportunity for pride inspiring valour, he had spent much of the slow trek mum-chance and brooding over his banishment. It seemed a hard fate to spend what was meant to be his free time plodding along beside a cart when he could have been schooling his new horse - a fine iron-grey colt he had coveted since it was foaled and which had finally become officially his on his recent seventeenth birthday - all just because of a couple of ill-considered remarks. His older horse, Safran, though less glamorous was ideally suited to this venture, barely fifteen hands and a quarter mountain cob, she was smaller and sturdier than most of the other riding horses but surer footed and sensible enough to need little guidance from her master whose thoughts were often elsewhere. The evenings were no better , Wilheard gave no greater impression of desiring conversation at camp than during the day and he was shy of imposing his company on the older soldiers who seemed to be having a more convivial time. Yet if the journey had been dismal the destination once reached had presented a scene of quiet desperation. The people were thinner and more haggard than any he had seen in Harrowdale or Edoras and even the buildings seemed to have been butchered. They were right, he thought sadly. Others have had a much harder time of it. He didn't need to wait for orders. It was obvious the most useful thing he could do among these starvelings. He dismounted and loosened Saffy's girths before hitching her to one of the waggons, then fell to unloading --------------------------- Posted to RPG Thread - HERE ~*~ Pio ~*~
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace Last edited by piosenniel; 07-13-2015 at 10:11 PM. |
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#12 |
A Voice That Gainsayeth
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: In that far land beyond the Sea
Posts: 7,431
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Nice one, Mith. I am now curious to see Elfthain around more in the future. Hopefully you'll manage to avoid the gates of computer Angband... (Personally, I have really adopted the policy to write in some text editor first, keep saving it as I go, and only then copy and post it... Not used to do that every time, but nowadays I do, just to be on the safe side.)
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"Should the story say 'he ate bread,' the dramatic producer can only show 'a piece of bread' according to his taste or fancy, but the hearer of the story will think of bread in general and picture it in some form of his own." -On Fairy-Stories |
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#13 |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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I have a stop gap computer until I am settled just a tablet with keyboard which is a bit fiddly and I think I am possibly in denial about needing specs. But I was using a draft in Outlook and saving and then it suddenly threw a hissy fit and reverted back several version. It did it again today (hope triumphing over experience - I should have emailed it to myself) but I only lost some formatting and typo corrections which I hope I have redone now.
I don't know if anyone uses it already but I have been trialling Scrivener since I have become by default the family archivist and have various documents that I want to type up lest anything happen to the originals (my father's diaries of the last days of the Raj, a memoir of a Victorian childhood by a cousin etc) aswell as my own research. However I haven't got to grips with it yet but after this experience I think I might cough up for it since I think it would be a boon for RPG. Anyway
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace |
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#14 |
Messenger of Hope
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,076
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Mithalwen! Great to see your post! I really enjoyed reading it and I am looking forward to getting to know your character better.
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A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. - C.S. Lewis |
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#15 |
Blossom of Dwimordene
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: The realm of forgotten words
Posts: 10,486
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Seconded / thirded / whatever. Great post, Mith! Can't wait for the brooding young man to bump into someone.
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You passed from under darkened dome, you enter now the secret land. - Take me to Finrod's fabled home!... ~ Finrod: The Rock Opera |
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#16 | |
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat.....
Posts: 7,779
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So there you are amidst all the hubbub.... ![]()
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside. |
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#17 |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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Thank you all. I am sure Elfthain will bump into someone soon, I just hope he is better than me about not bumping into things...stables maybe, since he is a good enough son of Eorl to make his horse's welfare a priority or maybe someone in the kitchen as he unloads.. I will have another readthrough to get a better sense of what is going on and who is where and get him properly involved asap.
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace |
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#18 |
Pilgrim Soul
Join Date: May 2004
Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle...
Posts: 9,460
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Right well Elfthain has done his bit for the common weal and has stopped by the kitchen, if he isn't engaged in conversation there he is heading for the stables where he might be only too interested in any gossip concerning his temporary CO...
By the way, why are they making porridge in kettles? Is that an American thing like the great biscuit dilemma?
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace Last edited by Mithalwen; 07-14-2015 at 02:55 PM. |
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#19 | |
Messenger of Hope
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,076
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Nice gifts, Mith. Those are amazing. I would never have thought of the leavening.
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EDIT: Nope, wasn't me this time.
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A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. - C.S. Lewis |
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