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thewickedspinster · 8 months ago

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Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

#thranduil x reader #lotr #the hobbit #the silmarillion #fanfic #f!reader #please be kind this is my first fic

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hcdragonwrites · 1 year ago

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A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!” It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

#hcwrites #hcfanfics #fanfic for semisolid #twice as bad au #bad end wukong #HERE YOU GO #again I could have made this longer but I was already at 6000 words and I did NOT want to go too overboard in detail #did I make up a tiger demon just to have an excuse for other things to come ? maaaaybeee #poor peaches #this probably is the only time this ever happens where the mountain is just not expecting some upstart demon to come swaggering by #you can bet Wukong laid waste to the snowy steppes #those are gone #and yes this one is a bit darker so read with a bit of caution #six eared macaque #jttw au #sun wukong #jttw tag #jttw fanfic #I See Mac as very support in times Like this while Wukongs gotta get his energy and rage out.#doesn’t mean that Mac isn’t capable of being a murder boy #just means he has more control #there is fluff in this I Promise I just wanted to write about a murdery tiger #and give peaches a reason to be afraid of tigers for #for future things 👀#jttw x reader #lmk #idk how to tag lmk stuff #lmk macaque #lmk wukong

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apenitentialprayer · 4 months ago

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I was asked why someone should be Catholic if they're Orthodox and therefore can participate in the Eucharist. I didn't have a good answer for him, but I was wondering if you did?

The Russian Orthodox philosopher Vladimir Soloviev never technically converted to Catholicism, but he was a major advocate of the reunification of the Churches and believed that the Pope in fact did have primacy over the Universal Church. He wrote a book in 1895 called Russia and the Universal Church, which you (or the person who asked this question to you) can read in its entirety here.

Soloviev emphasizes that the church is supposed to be universal in nature, but since the East-West Schism the Eastern Orthodox Churches have taken on increasingly nationalistic characters. Without union with a visibly global Patriarch that transcends national borders, he argues that the Eastern Churches will become subjected by the secular state.

This fear is highlighted by the Holy Synod established by Emperor Peter the Great in 1721, which abolished the office of the Patriarch of Moscow and established a ruling body more amenable to Peter's Enlightenment-inspired Church reforms. Over 150 years after this event, Soloviev can quote Ivan Aksakov, who says:

As is well known, the Russian Church is governed by an administrative council called a Spiritual Conclave or Holy Synod, whose members are nominated by the Emperor and presided over by a civil or military official, the High Procurator of the Holy Synod, who has complete control of the government of the Church. The dioceses, or eparchies, are nominally ruled by the bishops nominated by the Head of State on the recommendations of the Synod, that is, of the High Procurator who may subsequently depose them at pleasure.

So, Soloviev argues that without the universal jurisdiction of the Roman Pontiff, there is no one to appeal to in the event that a secular authority seeks to usurp ecclesial authority.

Soloviev also recounts a story about a potential convert who despaired of finding his place in the Orthodox Church and became Catholic instead:

William Palmer, a distinguished member of the Anglican Church and of the University of Oxford, wished to join the Orthodox Church. He went to Russia and Turkey to study the contemporary situation of the Christian East and to find out on what conditions he would be admitted to the communion of the Eastern Orthodox. At St. Petersburg and at Moscow he was told that he had only to abjure the errors of Protestantism before a priest, who would thereupon administer to him the sacrament of Holy Charism or Confirmation. But at Constantinople he found that he must be baptized afresh. As he knew himself to be a Christian and saw no reason to suspect the validity of his baptism (which incidentally was admitted without question by the Russian Orthodox Church), he considered that a second baptism would be sacrilege. On the other hand, he could not bring himself to accept Orthodoxy according to the local rules of the Russian Church since he would then become Orthodox only in Russia while remaining a heathen in the eyes of the Greeks; and he had no wish to join a national Church but to join the Universal Orthodox Church. No one could solve his dilemma, and so he became a Roman Catholic.

Soloviev points here to what he sees as another severe problem in the Orthodox Communion: "The Eastern Church is not a homogeneous body. […] If the Russian and Greek Churches give no evidence of their solidarity by any vital activity, their 'unity of faith' is a mere abstract formula producing no fruits and involving no obligations." The disagreement over whether Palmer's baptism was valid or not placed the man in such an exasperating situation that he straight up left for Rome.

The question becomes, when you have varying customs and disciplines that are causing problems and contradictions with something as essential to the faith of baptism, whose authority do you turn to in order to find a solution? Saint Irenaeus answered Soloviev's concern over 1700 years earlier: "For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church [i.e., Rome] on account of its preeminent authority."

Soloviev believed that "on the day which the Russian and Greek Churches formally break with each other the whole world will see that the Œcumenical Eastern Church is a mere fiction and that there exists in the East nothing but isolated national Churches." Soloviev paints an incredibly bleak picture here, I think, but even if it's exaggerated, well, it's also an important question now that Particular Churches within the Eastern Orthodox communion have been in schism since 2018. It's not the first time a schism has occurred between Moscow and Constantinople (one lasted slightly less than a hundred years), but, y'know...

#asks #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #Catholicism #Vlamidir Soloviev #Saint Irenaeus #schism #Pope

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dailyanarchistposts · 8 months ago

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Chapter 7: Mutual Aid Amongst Ourselves (Part 2)

As to the Continent, we find the communal institutions fully alive in many parts of France, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, the Scandinavian lands, and Spain, to say nothing of Eastern Europe; the village life in these countries is permeated with communal habits and customs; and almost every year the Continental literature is enriched by serious works dealing with this and connected subjects. I must, therefore, limit my illustrations to the most typical instances. Switzerland is undoubtedly one of them. Not only the five republics of Uri, Schwytz, Appenzell, Glarus, and Unterwalden hold their lands as undivided estates, and are governed by their popular folkmotes, but in all other cantons too the village communities remain in possession of a wide self-government, and own large parts of the Federal territory.[269] Two-thirds of all the Alpine meadows and two-thirds of all the forests of Switzerland are until now communal land; and a considerable number of fields, orchards, vineyards, peat bogs, quarries, and so on, are owned in common. In the Vaud, where all the householders continue to take part in the deliberations of their elected communal councils, the communal spirit is especially alive. Towards the end of the winter all the young men of each village go to stay a few days in the woods, to fell timber and to bring it down the steep slopes tobogganing way, the timber and the fuel wood being divided among all households or sold for their benefit. These excursions are real fêtes of manly labour. On the banks of Lake Leman part of the work required to keep up the terraces of the vineyards is still done in common; and in the spring, when the thermometer threatens to fall below zero before sunrise, the watchman wakes up all householders, who light fires of straw and dung and protect their vine-trees from the frost by an artificial cloud. In nearly all cantons the village communities possess so-called Bürgernutzen — that is, they hold in common a number of cows, in order to supply each family with butter; or they keep communal fields or vineyards, of which the produce is divided between the burghers, or they rent their land for the benefit of the community.[270]

It may be taken as a rule that where the communes have retained a wide sphere of functions, so as to be living parts of the national organism, and where they have not been reduced to sheer misery, they never fail to take good care of their lands. Accordingly the communal estates in Switzerland strikingly contrast with the miserable state of “commons” in this country. The communal forests in the Vaud and the Valais are admirably managed, in conformity with the rules of modern forestry. Elsewhere the “strips” of communal fields, which change owners under the system of re-allotment, are very well manured, especially as there is no lack of meadows and cattle. The high level meadows are well kept as a rule, and the rural roads are excellent.[271] And when we admire the Swiss châlet, the mountain road, the peasants’ cattle, the terraces of vineyards, or the school-house in Switzerland, we must keep in mind that without the timber for the châlet being taken from the communal woods and the stone from the communal quarries, without the cows being kept on the communal meadows, and the roads being made and the school-houses built by communal work, there would be little to admire.

It hardly need be said that a great number of mutual-aid habits and customs continue to persist in the Swiss villages. The evening gatherings for shelling walnuts, which take place in turns in each household; the evening parties for sewing the dowry of the girl who is going to marry; the calling of “aids” for building the houses and taking in the crops, as well as for all sorts of work which may be required by one of the commoners; the custom of exchanging children from one canton to the other, in order to make them learn two languages, French and German; and so on — all these are quite habitual;[272] while, on the other side, diverse modern requirements are met in the same spirit. Thus in Glarus most of the Alpine meadows have been sold during a time of calamity; but the communes still continue to buy field land, and after the newly-bought fields have been left in the possession of separate commoners for ten, twenty, or thirty years, as the case might be, they return to the common stock, which is re-allotted according to the needs of all. A great number of small associations are formed to produce some of the necessaries for life — bread, cheese, and wine — by common work, be it only on a limited scale; and agricultural co-operation altogether spreads in Switzerland with the greatest ease. Associations formed between ten to thirty peasants, who buy meadows and fields in common, and cultivate them as co-owners, are of common occurrence; while dairy associations for the sale of milk, butter, and cheese are organized everywhere. In fact, Switzerland was the birthplace of that form of co-operation. It offers, moreover, an immense field for the study of all sorts of small and large societies, formed for the satisfaction of all sorts of modern wants. In certain parts of Switzerland one finds in almost every village a number of associations — for protection from fire, for boating, for maintaining the quays on the shores of a lake, for the supply of water, and so on; and the country is covered with societies of archers, sharpshooters, topographers, footpath explorers, and the like, originated from modern militarism.

Switzerland is, however, by no means an exception in Europe, because the same institutions and habits are found in the villages of France, of Italy, of Germany, of Denmark, and so on. We have just seen what has been done by the rulers of France in order to destroy the village community and to get hold of its lands; but notwithstanding all that one-tenth part of the whole territory available for culture, i.e. 13,500,000 acres, including one-half of all the natural meadows and nearly a fifth part of all the forests of the country, remain in communal possession. The woods supply the communers with fuel, and the timber wood is cut, mostly by communal work, with all desirable regularity; the grazing lands are free for the commoners’ cattle; and what remains of communal fields is allotted and re-allotted in certain parts Ardennes — in the usual of France — namely, in the way.[273]

These additional sources of supply, which aid the poorer peasants to pass through a year of bad crops without parting with their small plots of land and without running into irredeemable debts, have certainly their importance for both the agricultural labourers and the nearly three millions of small peasant proprietors. It is even doubtful whether small peasant proprietorship could be maintained without these additional resources. But the ethical importance of the communal possessions, small as they are, is still greater than their economical value. They maintain in village life a nucleus of customs and habits of mutual aid which undoubtedly acts as a mighty check upon the development of reckless individualism and greediness, which small land-ownership is only too prone to develop. Mutual aid in all possible circumstances of village life is part of the routine life in all parts of the country. Everywhere we meet, under different names, with the charroi, i.e. the free aid of the neighbours for taking in a crop, for vintage, or for building a house; everywhere we find the same evening gatherings as have just been mentioned in Switzerland; and everywhere the commoners associate for all sorts of work. Such habits are mentioned by nearly all those who have written upon French village life. But it will perhaps be better to give in this place some abstracts from letters which I have just received from a friend of mine whom I have asked to communicate to me his observations on this subject. They come from an aged man who for years has been the mayor of his commune in South France (in Ariëge); the facts he mentions are known to him from long years of personal observation, and they have the advantage of coming from one neighbourhood instead of being skimmed from a large area. Some of them may seem trifling, but as a whole they depict quite a little world of village life.

“In several communes in our neighbourhood,” my friend writes, “the old custom of l’emprount is in vigour. When many hands are required in a métairie for rapidly making some work — dig out potatoes or mow the grass — the youth of the neighbourhood is convoked; young men and girls come in numbers, make it gaily and for nothing; and in the evening, after a gay meal, they dance.

“In the same communes, when a girl is going to marry, the girls of the neighbourhood come to aid in sewing the dowry. In several communes the women still continue to spin a good deal. When the winding off has to be done in a family it is done in one evening — all friends being convoked for that work. In many communes of the Ariège and other parts of the south-west the shelling of the Indian corn-sheaves is also done by all the neighbours. They are treated with chestnuts and wine, and the young people dance after the work has been done. The same custom is practised for making nut oil and crushing hemp. In the commune of L. the same is done for bringing in the corn crops. These days of hard work become fête days, as the owner stakes his honour on serving a good meal. No remuneration is given; all do it for each other.[274]

“In the commune of S. the common grazing-land is every year increased, so that nearly the whole of the land of the commune is now kept in common. The shepherds are elected by all owners of the cattle, including women. The bulls are communal.

“In the commune of M. the forty to fifty small sheep flocks of the commoners are brought together and divided into three or four flocks before being sent to the higher meadows. Each owner goes for a week to serve as shepherd.

“In the hamlet of C. a threshing machine has been bought in common by several households; the fifteen to twenty persons required to serve the machine being supplied by all the families. Three other threshing machines have been bought and are rented out by their owners, but the work is performed by outside helpers, invited in the usual way.

“In our commune of R. we had to raise the wall of the cemetery. Half of the money which was required for buying lime and for the wages of the skilled workers was supplied by the county council, and the other half by subscription. As to the work of carrying sand and water, making mortar, and serving the masons, it was done entirely by volunteers [just as in the Kabyle djemmâa]. The rural roads were repaired in the same way, by volunteer days of work given by the commoners. Other communes have built in the same way their fountains. The wine-press and other smaller appliances are frequently kept by the commune.”

Two residents of the same neighbourhood, questioned by my friend, add the following: —

“At O. a few years ago there was no mill. The commune has built one, levying a tax upon the commoners. As to the miller, they decided, in order to avoid frauds and partiality, that he should be paid two francs for each bread-eater, and the corn be ground free.

“At St. G. few peasants are insured against fire. When a conflagration has taken place — so it was lately — all give something to the family which has suffered from it — a chaldron, a bed-cloth, a chair, and so on — and a modest household is thus reconstituted. All the neighbours aid to build the house, and in the meantime the family is lodged free by the neighbours.”

Such habits of mutual support — of which many more examples could be given — undoubtedly account for the easiness with which the French peasants associate for using, in turn, the plough with its team of horses, the wine-press, and the threshing machine, when they are kept in the village by one of them only, as well as for the performance of all sorts of rural work in common. Canals were maintained, forests were cleared, trees were planted, and marshes were drained by the village communities from time immemorial; and the same continues still. Quite lately, in La Borne of Lozère barren hills were turned into rich gardens by communal work. “The soil was brought on men’s backs; terraces were made and planted with chestnut trees, peach trees, and orchards, and water was brought for irrigation in canals two or three miles long.” Just now they have dug a new canal, eleven miles in length.[275]

To the same spirit is also due the remarkable success lately obtained by the syndicats agricoles, or peasants’ and farmers’ associations. It was not until 1884 that associations of more than nineteen persons were permitted in France, and I need not say that when this “dangerous experiment” was ventured upon — so it was styled in the Chambers — all due “precautions” which functionaries can invent were taken. Notwithstanding all that, France begins to be covered with syndicates. At the outset they were only formed for buying manures and seeds, falsification having attained colossal proportions in these two branches;[276] but gradually they extended their functions in various directions, including the sale of agricultural produce and permanent improvements of the land. In South France the ravages of the phylloxera have called into existence a great number of wine-growers’ associations. Ten to thirty growers form a syndicate, buy a steam-engine for pumping water, and make the necessary arrangements for inundating their vineyards in turn.[277] New associations for protecting the land from inundations, for irrigation purposes, and for maintaining canals are continually formed, and the unanimity of all peasants of a neighbourhood, which is required by law, is no obstacle. Elsewhere we have the fruitières, or dairy associations, in some of which all butter and cheese is divided in equal parts, irrespective of the yield of each cow. In the Ariège we find an association of eight separate communes for the common culture of their lands, which they have put together; syndicates for free medical aid have been formed in 172 communes out of 337 in the same department; associations of consumers arise in connection with the syndicates; and so on.[278] “Quite a revolution is going on in our villages,” Alfred Baudrillart writes, “through these associations, which take in each region their own special characters.”

“Very much the same must be said of Germany. Wherever the peasants could resist the plunder of their lands, they have retained them in communal ownership, which largely prevails in Württemberg, Baden, Hohenzollern, and in the Hessian province of Starkenberg.[279] The communal forests are kept, as a rule, in an excellent state, and in thousands of communes timber and fuel wood are divided every year among all inhabitants; even the old custom of the Lesholztag is widely spread: at the ringing of the village bell all go to the forest to take as much fuel wood as they can carry.[280] In Westphalia one finds communes in which all the land is cultivated as one common estate, in accordance with all requirements of modern agronomy. As to the old communal customs and habits, they are in vigour in most parts of Germany. The calling in of aids, which are real fêtes of labour, is known to be quite habitual in Westphalia, Hesse, and Nassau. In well-timbered regions the timber for a new house is usually taken from the communal forest, and all the neighbours join in building the house. Even in the suburbs of Frankfort it is a regular custom among the gardeners that in case of one of them being ill all come on Sunday to cultivate his garden.[281]

In Germany, as in France, as soon as the rulers of the people repealed their laws against the peasant associations — that was only in 1884–1888 — these unions began to develop with a wonderful rapidity, notwithstanding all legal obstacles which were put in their way[282]. “It is a fact,” Buchenberger says, “that in thousands of village communities, in which no sort of chemical manure or rational fodder was ever known, both have become of everyday use, to a quite unforeseen extent, owing to these associations” (vol. ii. p. 507). All sorts of labour-saving implements and agricultural machinery, and better breeds of cattle, are bought through the associations, and various arrangements for improving the quality of the produce begin to be introduced. Unions for the sale of agricultural produce are also formed, as well as for permanent improvements of the land.[283]

From the point of view of social economics all these efforts of the peasants certainly are of little importance. They cannot substantially, and still less permanently, alleviate the misery to which the tillers of the soil are doomed all over Europe. But from the ethical point of view, which we are now considering, their importance cannot be overrated. They prove that even under the system of reckless individualism which now prevails the agricultural masses piously maintain their mutual-support inheritance; and as soon as the States relax the iron laws by means of which they have broken all bonds between men, these bonds are at once reconstituted, notwithstanding the difficulties, political, economical, and social, which are many, and in such forms as best answer to the modern requirements of production. They indicate in which direction and in which form further progress must be expected.

I might easily multiply such illustrations, taking them from Italy, Spain, Denmark, and so on, and pointing out some interesting features which are proper to each of these countries.[284] The Slavonian populations of Austria and the Balkan peninsula, among whom the “compound family,” or “undivided household,” is found in existence, ought also to be mentioned.[285] But I hasten to pass on to Russia, where the same mutual-support tendency takes certain new and unforeseen forms. Moreover, in dealing with the village community in Russia we have the advantage: of possessing an immense mass of materials, collected during the colossal house-to-house inquest which was lately made by several zemstvos (county councils), and which embraces a population of nearly 20,000,000 peasants in different parts of the country.[286]

Two important conclusions may be drawn from the bulk of evidence collected by the Russian inquests. In Middle Russia, where fully one-third of the peasants have been brought to utter ruin (by heavy taxation, small allotments of unproductive land, rack rents, and very severe tax-collecting after total failures of crops), there was, during the first five-and-twenty years after the emancipation of the serfs, a decided tendency towards the constitution of individual property in land within the village communities. Many impoverished “horseless” peasants abandoned their allotments, and this land often became the property of those richer peasants, who borrow additional incomes from trade, or of outside traders, who buy land chiefly for exacting rack rents from the peasants. It must also be added that a flaw in the land redemption law of 1861 offered great facilities for buying peasants’ lands at a very small expense,[287] and that the State officials mostly used their weighty influence in favour of individual as against communal ownership. However, for the last twenty years a strong wind of opposition to the individual appropriation of the land blows again through the Middle Russian villages, and strenuous efforts are being made by the bulk of those peasants who stand between the rich and the very poor to uphold the village community. As to the fertile steppes of the South, which are now the most populous and the richest part of European Russia, they were mostly colonized, during the present century, under the system of individual ownership or occupation, sanctioned in that form by the State. But since improved methods of agriculture with the aid of machinery have been introduced in the region, the peasant owners have gradually begun themselves to transform their individual ownership into communal possession, and one finds now, in that granary of Russia, a very great number of spontaneously formed village communities of recent origin.[288]

The Crimea and the part of the mainland which lies to the north of it (the province of Taurida), for which we have detailed data, offer an excellent illustration of that movement. This territory began to be colonized, after its annexation in 1783, by Great, Little, and White Russians — Cossacks, freemen, and runaway serfs — who came individually or in small groups from all corners of Russia. They took first to cattle-breeding, and when they began later on to till the soil, each one tilled as much as he could afford to. But when — immigration continuing, and perfected ploughs being introduced — land stood in great demand, bitter disputes arose among the settlers. They lasted for years, until these men, previously tied by no mutual bonds, gradually came to the idea that an end must be put to disputes by introducing village-community ownership. They passed decisions to the effect that the land which they owned individually should henceforward be their common property, and they began to allot and to re-allot it in accordance with the usual village-community rules. The movement gradually took a great extension, and on a small territory, the Taurida statisticians found 161 villages in which communal ownership had been introduced by the peasant proprietors themselves, chiefly in the years 1855–1885, in lieu of individual ownership. Quite a variety of village-community types has been freely worked out in this way by the settlers.[289]

What adds to the interest of this transformation is that it took place, not only among the Great Russians, who are used to village-community life, but also among Little Russians, who have long since forgotten it under Polish rule, among Greeks and Bulgarians, and even among Germans, who have long since worked out in their prosperous and half-industrial Volga colonies their own type of village community.[290] It is evident that the Mussulman Tartars of Taurida hold their land under the Mussulman customary law, which is limited personal occupation; but even with them the European village community has been introduced in a few cases. As to other nationalities in Taurida, individual ownership has been abolished in six Esthonian, two Greek, two Bulgarian, one Czech, and one German village. This movement is characteristic for the whole of the fertile steppe region of the south. But separate instances of it are also found in Little Russia. Thus in a number of villages of the province of Chernigov the peasants were formerly individual owners of their plots; they had separate legal documents for their plots and used to rent and to sell their land at will. But in the fifties of the nineteenth century a movement began among them in favour of communal possession, the chief argument being the growing number of pauper families. The initiative of the reform was taken in one village, and the others followed suit, the last case on record dating from 1882. Of course there were struggles between the poor, who usually claim for communal possession, and the rich, who usually prefer individual ownership; and the struggles often lasted for years. In certain places the unanimity required then by the law being impossible to obtain, the village divided into two villages, one under individual ownership and the other under communal possession; and so they remained until the two coalesced into one community, or else they remained divided still. As to Middle Russia, its a fact that in many villages which were drifting towards individual ownership there began since 1880 a mass movement in favour of re-establishing the village community. Even peasant proprietors who had lived for years under the individualist system returned en masse to the communal institutions. Thus, there is a considerable number of ex-serfs who have received one-fourth part only of the regulation allotments, but they have received them free of redemption and in individual ownership.

There was in 1890 a wide-spread movement among them (in Kursk, Ryazan, Tambov, Orel, etc.) towards putting their allotments together and introducing the village community. The “free agriculturists” (volnyie khlebopashtsy), who were liberated from serfdom under the law of 1803, and had bought their allotments — each family separately — are now nearly all under the village-community system, which they have introduced themselves. All these movements are of recent origin, and non-Russians too join them. Thus the Bulgares in the district of Tiraspol, after having remained for sixty years under the personal-property system, introduced the village community in the years 1876–1882. The German Mennonites of Berdyansk fought in 1890 for introducing the village community, and the small peasant proprietors (Kleinwirthschaftliche) among the German Baptists were agitating in their villages in the same direction. One instance more: In the province of Samara the Russian government created in the forties, by way of experiment, 103 villages on the system of individual ownership. Each household received a splendid property of 105 acres. In 1890, out of the 103 villages the peasants in 72 had already notified the desire of introducing the village community. I take all these facts from the excellent work of V.V., who simply gives, in a classified form, the facts recorded in the above-mentioned house-to-house inquest.

This movement in favour of communal possession runs badly against the current economical theories, according to which intensive culture is incompatible with the village community. But the most charitable thing that can be said of these theories is that they have never been submitted to the test of experiment: they belong to the domain of political metaphysics. The facts which we have before us show, on the contrary, that wherever the Russian peasants, owing to a concurrence of favourable circumstances, are less miserable than they are on the average, and wherever they find men of knowledge and initiative among their neighbours, the village community becomes the very means for introducing various improvements in agriculture and village life altogether. Here, as elsewhere, mutual aid is a better leader to progress than the war of each against all, as may be seen from the following facts.

Under Nicholas the First’s rule many Crown officials and serf-owners used to compel the peasants to introduce the communal culture of small plots of the village lands, in order to refill the communal storehouses after loans of grain had been granted to the poorest commoners. Such cultures, connected in the peasants’ minds with the worst reminiscences of serfdom, were abandoned as soon as serfdom was abolished but now the peasants begin to reintroduce them on their own account. In one district (Ostrogozhsk, in Kursk) the initiative of one person was sufficient to call them to life in four-fifths of all the villages. The same is met with in several other localities. On a given day the commoners come out, the richer ones with a plough or a cart and the poorer ones single-handed, and no attempt is made to discriminate one’s share in the work. The crop is afterwards used for loans to the poorer commoners, mostly free grants, or for the orphans and widows, or for the village church, or for the school, or for repaying a communal debt.[291]

That all sorts of work which enters, so to say, in the routine of village life (repair of roads and bridges, dams, drainage, supply of water for irrigation, cutting of wood, planting of trees, etc.) are made by whole communes, and that land is rented and meadows are mown by whole communes — the work being accomplished by old and young, men and women, in the way described by Tolstoi — is only what one may expect from people living under the village-community system.[292] They are of everyday occurrence all over the country. But the village community is also by no means averse to modern agricultural improvements, when it can stand the expense, and when knowledge, hitherto kept for the rich only, finds its way into the peasant’s house.

It has just been said that perfected ploughs rapidly spread in South Russia, and in many cases the village communities were instrumental in spreading their use. A plough was bought by the community, experimented upon on a portion of the communal land, and the necessary improvements were indicated to the makers, whom the communes often aided in starting the manufacture of cheap ploughs as a village industry. In the district of Moscow, where 1,560 ploughs were lately bought by the peasants during five years, the impulse came from those communes which rented lands as a body for the special purpose of improved culture.

In the north-east (Vyatka) small associations of peasants, who travel with their winnowing machines (manufactured as a village industry in one of the iron districts), have spread the use of such machines in the neighbouring governments. The very wide spread of threshing machines in Samara, Saratov, and Kherson is due to the peasant associations, which can afford to buy a costly engine, while the individual peasant cannot. And while we read in nearly all economical treatises that the village community was doomed to disappear when the three-fields system had to be substituted by the rotation of crops system, we see in Russia many village communities taking the initiative of introducing the rotation of crops. Before accepting it the peasants usually set apart a portion of the communal fields for an experiment in artificial meadows, and the commune buys the seeds.[293] If the experiment proves successful they find no difficulty whatever in re-dividing their fields, so as to suit the five or six fields system.

This system is now in use in hundreds of villages of Moscow, Tver, Smolensk, Vyatka, and Pskov.[294] And where land can be spared the communities give also a portion of their domain to allotments for fruit-growing. Finally, the sudden extension lately taken in Russia by the little model farms, orchards, kitchen gardens, and silkworm-culture grounds — which are started at the village school-houses, under the conduct of the school-master, or of a village volunteer — is also due to the support they found with the village communities.

Moreover, such permanent improvements as drainage and irrigation are of frequent occurrence. For instance, in three districts of the province of Moscow — industrial to a great extent — drainage works have been accomplished within the last ten years on a large scale in no less than 180 to 200 different villages — the commoners working themselves with the spade. At another extremity of Russia, in the dry Steppes of Novouzen, over a thousand dams for ponds were built and several hundreds of deep wells were sunk by the communes; while in a wealthy German colony of the south-east the commoners worked, men and women alike, for five weeks in succession, to erect a dam, two miles long, for irrigation purposes. What could isolated men do in that struggle against the dry climate? What could they obtain through individual effort when South Russia was struck with the marmot plague, and all people living on the land, rich and poor, commoners and individualists, had to work with their hands in order to conjure the plague? To call in the policeman would have been of no use; to associate was the only possible remedy.

And now, after having said so much about mutual aid and support which are practised by the tillers of the soil in “civilized” countries, I see that I might fill an octavo volume with illustrations taken from the life of the hundreds of millions of men who also live under the tutorship of more or less centralized States, but are out of touch with modern civilization and modern ideas. I might describe the inner life of a Turkish village and its network of admirable mutual-aid customs and habits. On turning over my leaflets covered with illustrations from peasant life in Caucasia, I come across touching facts of mutual support. I trace the same customs in the Arab djemmâa and the Afghan purra, in the villages of Persia, India, and Java, in the undivided family of the Chinese, in the encampments of the semi-nomads of Central Asia and the nomads of the far North. On consulting taken at random in the literature of Africa, I find them replete with similar facts — of aids convoked to take in the crops, of houses built by all inhabitants of the village — sometimes to repair the havoc done by civilized filibusters — of people aiding each other in case of accident, protecting the traveller, and so on. And when I peruse such works as Post’s compendium of African customary law I understand why, notwithstanding all tyranny, oppression, robberies and raids, tribal wars, glutton kings, deceiving witches and priests, slave-hunters, and the like, these populations have not gone astray in the woods; why they have maintained a certain civilization, and have remained men, instead of dropping to the level of straggling families of decaying orang-outans. The fact is, that the slave-hunters, the ivory robbers, the fighting kings, the Matabele and the Madagascar “heroes” pass away, leaving their traces marked with blood and fire; but the nucleus of mutual-aid institutions, habits, and customs, grown up in the tribe and the village community, remains; and it keeps men united in societies, open to the progress of civilization, and ready to receive it when the day comes that they shall receive civilization instead of bullets.

The same applies to our civilized world. The natural and social calamities pass away. Whole populations are periodically reduced to misery or starvation; the very springs of life are crushed out of millions of men, reduced to city pauperism; the understanding and the feelings of the millions are vitiated by teachings worked out in the interest of the few. All this is certainly a part of our existence. But the nucleus of mutual-support institutions, habits, and customs remains alive with the millions; it keeps them together; and they prefer to cling to their customs, beliefs, and traditions rather than to accept the teachings of a war of each against all, which are offered to them under the title of science, but are no science at all.

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mariacallous · 18 days ago

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A divided City Council gave the go-ahead Thursday on an update of the city’s zoning codes projected to create new capacity to construct up to 80,000 new residences over the next 15 years.

The Council voted 31 to 20 to advance Mayor Eric Adams’ City of Yes for Housing Opportunity agenda — with some members saying they were moved to approve the package after obtaining concessions from the mayor’s original plans.

The overhaul aims to address a housing shortage that has given New York City its lowest rental vacancy rate since 1968.

Before casting her vote in support, Council Speaker Adrienne Adams (D-Queens) made an impassioned speech on the floor of the Council chambers, saying New Yorkers who need places to live are counting on the Council.

“I am tired of the homelessness rate going up. I am tired of my community going south because their city is unaffordable for them to live in. I am tired of watching daily people on the brink of eviction and other means of losing their homes,” she said. “This cannot be the Council that turns their back on [the] homeless. This cannot be the Council that turns their back and continues to say ‘Scrap it.’ Let’s move ahead.”

City of Yes aimed to create a “bit more housing in every neighborhood” in order to address growing inequities between areas that have produced a disproportionate amount of new housing and others insulated from new development by restrictive zoning codes.

The vote culminated a long campaign by the mayor and deputies. Administration officials, including Department of City Planning Director Dan Garodnick and First Deputy Mayor Maria Torres-Springer appeared at rallies at City Hall over the past year to galvanize support for City of Yes, joined by some borough presidents.

Meanwhile, fierce opposition arose in many outer-borough areas — including eastern Queens, southern Brooklyn and Staten Island — where residents voiced fears the zoning changes would dramatically alter the character of their neighborhoods and put further pressure on stretched sewers and streets. Some tenant advocacy groups also criticized the plan, saying it would not create truly affordable housing.

The plan moved forward despite the opposition and a politically weakened mayor. Negotiations between the Council and the administration got down to the wire and resulted in a scaled-down plan.

As part of negotiations, the Council secured $5 billion — including $1 billion from Gov. Kathy Hochul — to invest in sewer and flood-prevention projects, as well as initiatives that include financing for affordable housing development, expanded legal services for homeowners, help with down payments and a boost for rent vouchers.

In a press conference after the vote, the mayor and Hochul celebrated the outcome.

“This milestone vote by the City Council will clear the way to build a new generation of affordable housing for our city,” Adams said. “It is not just four walls that we’re building: it is hope, it’s opportunities, it’s a safe haven. Today, we say yes to that.”

Hochul called New York City the state’s economic engine, one she wanted to make more affordable.

“The biggest expense anyone has is their rent or their mortgage payment, if they’re lucky enough to have a home,” she said. “It comes down to one thing: building more housing will drive down the cost of housing.”

Bigger Buildings

Among other measures designed to boost growth, the new zoning lets developers build larger buildings if they include more than the minimum required housing for lower-income tenants, allows a minimum of five stories in areas that are close to transit and above retail, and makes it easier to convert office buildings to apartments.

In the chambers, Councilmember Carlina Rivera (D-Manhattan) framed her support of the plan as an acknowledgement that the city is “woefully behind in housing production.”

In response to concerns from officials representing mostly low-density, suburban-style districts with many single-family homes and high car dependency, changes made to the proposal prior to a committee vote last month slashed the expected housing by about one-fourth.

The Council speaker defended the changes. “Our modifications to the zoning reforms balance respect for neighborhood character — because not all districts are alike — with the citywide need to build housing, especially to build affordable homes,” she said. “While we recognize the importance of zoning reform to build more housing, especially amidst the housing shortage, we knew more was needed to keep New Yorkers housed and address growing housing insecurity.”

In the original proposal, three- to five-story buildings were allowed half a mile from Metro-North and Long Island Rail Road stations, but are now only allowed within a quarter mile. Those buildings are also no longer allowed in areas with single-family homes.

While the original proposal sought to get rid of parking requirements for new development entirely, the plan that passed Council instead preserves parking mandates in most areas but scales them back, dividing the city in three zones. Now creating parking for new housing is optional in most of Manhattan plus western Brooklyn and Queens, with reduced minimums in areas in outer boroughs close to public transit. Elsewhere, the status quo remains — new development must include a prescribed minimum number of parking spaces.

Apartments in basements and garages — known as accessory dwelling units — would be limited to a single story unless they include parking, backyard cottages are limited to one-third of the yard space and homeowners must live on the property in order to build one of these types of apartments. First-flood and basement apartments would be banned in places prone to coastal and stormwater flooding.

The amendments won the votes of some who had been on the fence, including Councilmembers Althea Stevens (D-The Bronx), Rita Joseph (D-Brooklyn) and Nantasha Williams (D-Queens).

“I recognize halting the advancement of housing development will only deepen this crisis and harm the communities that I fight so hard to serve,” Stevens said, explaining her yes vote.

Still, the modifications didn’t appease everyone.

Councilmember Christopher Marte (D-Manhattan), voting no, described the City of Yes as a giveaway to developers, while others criticized it as a one-size-fits-all approach. Councilmembers Bob Holden (D-Queens) and Kalman Yeger (D-Brooklyn) called the $5 billion commitment “Monopoly money,” that they didn’t trust.

The Council also approved three pieces of legislation to accompany the City of Yes plan. Two bills set up a basement apartment legalization program and lay out safety standards for those and other types of so-called accessory dwelling units. The third would reestablish a tax incentive to help co-op and condo owners rehabilitate their homes.

City of Yes for Housing Opportunity is the third of three City of Yes land use packages from Mayor Adams, two of which — for businesses and environmental projects — the Council previously approved.

Multiple groups — including Open New York, the New York Building Congress and the Association for Neighborhood and Housing Development — weighed in after the vote to emphasize that City of Yes and the accompanying $5 billion spending plan represented just the start of the work ahead.

“Passing City of Yes for Housing Opportunity is a very important victory that will spur much-needed housing development all across the city,” said Citizens Budget Commission President Andrew Rein in a statement that reflected a common sentiment. “While a critical and welcome step, there’s more to be done to solve our housing crisis.

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 4 months ago

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South Africa government green-lights yellow maize imports from Brazil

In some coastal areas of South Africa, it is cheaper to import yellow maize from South America than sourcing it locally.

Fears of a possible shortage of yellow maize have been averted with a decision by the national department of agriculture to allow yellow maize imports from Brazil.

The National Agricultural Marketing Council estimated earlier this year that it might be necessary to import 383 000 tonnes of yellow maize – a crucial ingredient in animal feed – amid shrinking local production and rising prices brought about by lower rainfall in the country’s maize-producing regions.

While price increases have moderated since the 19% rise between January and May, it is still R275-R300 per tonne cheaper for animal feed manufacturers in the Western Cape, Eastern Cape and possibly also parts of KwaZulu-Natal to import yellow maize than transport it locally from the production areas.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #south africa #south african politics #economy #farming #international politics #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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molkolsdal · 8 months ago

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NURISTAN: SHEDDING LIGHT ON AN INACCESSIBLE CRAFT

HIDDEN IN THE EASTERN MOUNTAINS OF AFGHANISTAN, NURISTANI WOODCARVERS HAVE PERFECTED THEIR CRAFT OVER THE PAST THOUSAND YEARS, ADORNING HOUSES AND MOSQUES WITH CAREFULLY CARVED PATTERNS WHICH MEANINGS HAVE NOW MOSTLY BEEN LOST

Embedded in Afghanistan’s eastern mountains, the region of Kafiristan (“Land of the Infidels”) was long an isolated society. Cut off from the world courtesy of their deep mountain gorges and fierce warriors, their local religion was supplanted by Islam at the end of the 19th century ( renamed ‘Nuristan’, or “Land of Light”), over a millennium after the neighbouring regions. Their unique style of woodcarving, a centuries-old, integral component of their culture, is in dire need of safeguarding lest it be lost forever.

In its efforts to preserve Afghanistan’s intangible cultural heritage, Turquoise Mountain is being supported by the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund to document and support Afghan crafts such as Nuristani woodcarving. In accordance with the guidelines set out by UNESCO’s 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage, there is a pressing need to carry out background research on the craft prior to the more detailed inventory, systematically exploring Nuristan’s woodcarving history, symbolism and social meaning in collaboration with the National Archives of Afghanistan, the Afghanistan Centre at Kabul University, and other cultural institutions.

Woodcarving played an integral role in the delineation of Nuristan’s strictly hierarchical, class-based society. The producers of the craft came from the ‘Bari’, a class of people not regarded as members of society. As well as being woodworkers, the ‘Bari’ were more generally labourers, involved in building bridges and water mills, or acting as stone carvers and potters. Deemed to be impure and racially separate from the rest of society, the ‘Bari’ were, prior to the region’s Islamization, treated as slaves. As a result there is no genealogical record of the exceptionally skilled woodcarvers who transmitted the knowledge from master (ustad) to student (shagerd), generation after generation.

In the past Nuristani woodcarving held significant symbolic meaning and essentially acted as a tool of social signaling to identify acts of greatness, specifically hunting and feast-giving. The ‘Atrozhen’, or class of freemen, who made up about 90% of society, were allowed to decorate - or, rather, have the lower class ‘Bari’ decorate - their houses with the symbols. However, within the ‘Atrozhen’ the privilege was tightly controlled. A community council of Big Men effectively held the exclusive privilege of controlling social movement. The social positions and titles that people were given were obtained only upon this council’s approval.

#Nuristan #Afghanistan #craft #wood carving #history #culture #bari #caste #class #atrozhen

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 month ago

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SAINT OF THE DAY (November 12)

Today, on the day of his martyrdom, November 12, Roman Catholics and some Eastern Catholics remember St. Josaphat Kuntsevych, a bishop and monk whose example of faith inspired many Eastern Orthodox Christians to return to full communion with the Holy See.

Other Eastern Catholics, including the Ukrainian Catholic Church, celebrate St. Josaphat's feast day on November 25.

Born in 1580 in the western Ukrainian region of Volhynia, John Kuntsevych did not become “Josaphat” until his later life as a monk.

He was also not initially a full member of the Catholic Church, born to Orthodox Christian parents whose church had fallen out of communion with the Pope.

Although the Eastern churches began to separate from the Holy See in 1054, a union had existed for a period of time after the 15th-century Ecumenical Council of Florence.

But social, political and theological disputes caused the union to begin dissolving even before the Turkish conquest of Byzantium in 1453.

By John’s time, many Slavic Orthodox Christians had become strongly anti-Catholic.

During this time, Latin missionaries attempted to achieve reunion with the individual eastern patriarchs.

The approach was risky, sometimes politicizing the faith and leading to further divisions.

But it did yield some notable successes, including the reunion of John’s own Ruthenian Church in the 1596 Union of Brest.

John was trained as a merchant’s apprentice and could have opted for marriage.

However, he felt drawn to the rigors and spiritual depth of traditional Byzantine monasticism.

Taking the monastic name of Josaphat, he entered a Ukrainian monastery in 1604.

The young monk was taking on an ambitious task, striving to re-incorporate the Eastern Orthodox tradition with the authority of the Catholic Church in the era of its “Counter-reformation.”

Soon, as a priest, subsequently an archbishop, and ultimately a martyr, he would live and die for the union of the churches.

While rejecting the anti-Western sentiments of many of his countrymen, Josaphat also resisted any attempt to compromise the Eastern Catholic churches’ own traditions.

Recognizing the urgent pastoral needs of the people, he produced catechisms and works of apologetics, while implementing long overdue reforms of the clergy and attending to the needs of the poor.

Josaphat’s exemplary life and zeal for the care of souls won the trust of many Orthodox Christians, who saw the value of the churches’ union reflected in the archbishop‘s life and works.

Nevertheless, his mission was essentially controversial, and others were led to believe lurid stories and malicious suggestions made about him.

In 1620, opponents arranged for the consecration of a rival archbishop.

As tensions between supporters and opponents began to escalate, Josaphat lamented the onset of attacks that would lead to his death.

“You people of Vitebsk want to put me to death,” he protested.

“You make ambushes for me everywhere, in the streets, on the bridges, on the highways, and in the marketplace.

I am here among you as a shepherd, and you ought to know that I would be happy to give my life for you.”

He finally did so, on a fall day on 12 November 1623.

An Orthodox priest had been shouting insults outside the archbishop’s residence and trying to force his way inside.

Josaphat had him removed, but the man assembled a mob in the town.

They arrived and demanded the archbishop’s life, threatening his companions and servants.

Unable to escape, Josaphat died praying for the men who shot and then beheaded him before dumping his body in a river.

Josaphat’s body was discovered incorrupt, five years later.

Remarkably, the saint’s onetime rival - the Orthodox Archbishop Meletius - was reconciled with the Catholic Church in later years.

Josaphat was beatified by Pope Urban VIII on 16 May 1643. He was canonized by Pope Pius IX on 29 June 1867.

He was the first saint of the Eastern Church to be canonized by Rome. He is the patron saint of Ukraine.

#saint of the day #St. Josaphat Kuntsevych

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miraruinada · 9 months ago

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Granja | Parabola Synthesis

Jorjais Elmo Cuauhcoatl Granja, a.k.a., the Foolish Wiseman (Sabio Idiota), the Old Youth (Viejo Joven), Mystic Killer, or simply by the mononym Granja, was a Topaxeca philosopher and the most influential figure within Cemanahuac philosophy and the proto-modernist infra-realist movement, called 'the most important systematizer in philosophical history'. His influence extends across the entire range of philosophical traditions of his time, from metaphysics to philosophy of art, philosophy of theology, philosophy of history, systemic philosophy, natural philosophy, and philosophic history. His most studied concepts are the criticism through immanence, astucia de la Razón, internal critique, and the Granjan dialectic.

While the majority of his young life is unknown (very little is known besides his claim that he was "born in 34AM in a rural village to Ibero migrant farmers"), his scholarly journey is documented. He first appears on official record as one of the 76th Year alumni attending the Colegio Real del Imperio (Royal College of the Empire) to study philosophy. He grew to dislike what he saw as a restrictive nature in the college and held a profound hatred of the orthodox Ometeotl theology it upheld. During this time, he read on the dailies of the ongoing Alsacean Revolution with enthusiasm, though this hope was crushed when it failed. Granja as an alumnus desired to make philosophy available to the common people, his quest to reconcile with the philosophical problems of dualism introduced by Eastern philosophy not becoming his priority until much later. After graduating with his doctoral thesis on a mathematical critique on the then-current mapping of the solar system, he spent a few years as the family tutor of a wealthy Imperial Council affiliated dynasty, though he lost his employment due to an affair with a housemaid.

Finding a position as a professor within one of the guild-funded colleges within the Capital, he worked with haste to finish and publish his Fenomeno de Mente, which was meant to serve as an introduction to his philosophical system. Unsatisfied with how it was received, and feeling still unfulfilled with his original mission to bring philosophy to the people, he left his position after ten years and traveled the continent to teach philosophy, discovering with horror that the majority of the peasants within the empire were illiterate, shifting his original mission into one of bringing literacy to people. During the forty years of going between travel to returning to teaching at colleges, he finished and published Filosofia Natural de Logia. After UCAT was founded, he moved back to the Capital and gave lectures to the alumni in the philosophy department until his death to an unknown disease, posthumously diagnosed as lung cancer.

"Pity the nation that needs a hero. Indeed, pity the entire world order that needs competing, or dueling, heroes."

Despite lamenting on his deathbed that nobody had fully understood him, and that even those who thought they understood him didn't understand him, even misunderstanding Granja seemingly produced innovative ideas to the world. His work, study, and lectures have had lasting and radical impact. Of important influence was the impact it had on the Granjeros (Farmers), the students who attended his last lectures in UCAT, of particular note the members of the Young Farmers Drinking Club (los jovenes borrachos Granjeros), and more specifically Iovan Herrera, Hugo Valdez, and Ignacio Otxo, each whom expanded and contended with his thought. Ignacio Otxo, in particular, using his philosophical system to create what is called Otxoan thought, along with Anacaona Hosa who, although not a student of Granja, codified diamat based on a materialist reading of the Granjan dialectic, introducing Hosan-Otxoan thought.

On more personal matters, Granja is remembered as being a welcome presence, nice and charitable to others, if not blunt. He had admirers throughout his life, kept a rapport with the rest of the faculty in UCAT, which helped in preventing the troubles his students got into from affecting his employment, and was seen as being generally good company to keep around, even in the silence and solitude that he kept himself.

All of his students, in turn, considered him more than a mentor into something of a maternal, paternal, or guiding figure. Iovan Herrera writing, 'truly the greatest among the great thinkers of our time, though what I can say in critique of his thought is plenty, what I can say of his personal character is none.'

In contrast, Granja had little patience for those he considered wasting their potential, as Ignacio Otxo, who used to keep him after lectures to ask questions and discuss answers, was a sore spot for Granja. Granja had taught Ignacio Otxo how to read during his travels and welcomed him as a student of his, but became exasperated at his incompetence at understanding his lessons. Ignacio Otxo wrote about this: 'I believe Granja eats the meal I have prepared for him with expediency not because it tastes good, but because he might hope it may upset his stomach so he no longer has to stay and frustrate himself with my presence any longer than necessary.'

#;parabola synthesis.

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bopinion · 4 months ago

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2024 / 32

Aperçu of the week

“Live and let live.”

(This is the term used to describe the spontaneous emergence of non-aggressive behavior between troops facing each other as enemies at the front during the First World War. It is now used as a synonym for “to each his own” - as long as he doesn't step on anyone else's toes).

Bad News of the Week

The LGBTQ+ community is open, diverse, peaceful, colorful and inclusive. And stands for tolerance like no other. At the Christopher Street Day parades, which now take place in almost all major German cities throughout the summer, people are cheerful and exuberant. Many people are infected by the atmosphere. In cities such as Cologne, Berlin and Hamburg, hundreds of thousands come together and celebrate a festival of humanity and togetherness that excludes no one. That's nice.

Unfortunately, these events not only attract the attention of those with a positive attitude, but also those with a negative one. Hostility and even attacks on queer people at the events are becoming increasingly common. This happens primarily in the east of the republic and almost exclusively from the right-wing spectrum - neither of which is surprising. After all, the principle of free self-determination can easily be stylized as the antithesis of the conservative, traditional image of society.

The low point for the time being: the CSD in Bautzen in eastern Saxony took place under police protection and the closing party had to be canceled due to security concerns. Numerous disruptive actions were announced by right-wing organizations, including the far-right “Free Saxons” mobilizing on a grand scale, with a counter-event entitled “Against gender propaganda and identity confusion!!!”. In this way, a movement that not coincidentally has the same symbol as the peace movement, the rainbow flag, becomes the target of intolerance with violent tendencies.

Saxony's Justice Minister Katja Meier said that she was stunned that an event had to be cancelled due to the tense security situation and strong right-wing extremist mobilization. “Hatred and agitation against queer people are an expression of misanthropic ideologies that have no place in our society,” emphasized the Green politician. Unfortunately, it has to be said that this is not the case: this ideology has indeed found a place in society. In the state elections taking place this fall in Saxony, Thuringia and Brandenburg, the far-right AfD (Alternative for Germany) is expected to become the strongest party. And they have already polemicized against queer people with posters such as “Hands off our children!”. I'm starting to fear for our social peace...

Good News of the Week

I like this slightly rebellious attitude that the Scots like to display from time to time. Now Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, is once again showing its stubbornness. A very positive one. It is rebelling against the public image of fossil fuels.

Specifically, this involves advertising, sponsorship, events etc. for a whole spectrum of companies, products or services. The list ranges from airlines and cruise ships to off-road vehicles and basically all oil and gas companies: “all companies and associated sub-brands or lobbying organizations that extract, refine, produce, supply, distribute or sell fossil fuels”.

In short: polluters should no longer be allowed to present themselves to the public. That makes sense. Because “carbon-intensive products and services undermine the council's commitment to tackling climate change”. Current example: In a report released this month, the International Energy Agency just found that if SUVs were a country, they would be the fifth largest CO2 emitter in the world.

Of course, this is only a symbolic step. But it is a step in the right direction. And is therefore being described by activists as a “historic” step in the fight against climate change. Which other British cities such as Cambridge, Liverpool and Norwich would like to follow. Thank you, dear Scots!

Personal happy moment of the week

My son has just gone on a bike ride with my father. He is 16 - and therefore 70 years younger than his grandpa. And yet the two of them can do something together that is “their thing”. For a whole week. Along the Elbe, from Dresden to Magdeburg. I particularly like the fact that this is also possible thanks to the sister and granddaughter. Because in the meantime, she looks after Granny at home. Because dad and son - of course - don't have time again. Thank you!

I couldn't care less...

...that the Republicans are calling Kamala Karris' new running mate Tim Walz a radical leftist and woke extremist. The “coach” is simply a successful, hands-on, people-oriented politician. He has a clear moral compass, his heart in the right place and his feet firmly planted on a democratic foundation. I like the guy. In whose shadow his political opponent J. D. Vance actually just looks weird. I'm looking forward to their debate in television.

It's fine with me...

...that freedom of speech exists. Because it is a valuable democratic asset. But in the age of social media, limits must be set - keywords hate speech and fake news. A prime example of this is a “free spirit” who happens to own his favorite platform: Elon Musk and Twitter (yes, I know he wants it called X). I don't mean that he has reopened this far-reaching mouthpiece to radicals. Or that he fired most of the team responsible for moderating and monitoring the posts. And not his interview with Donald Trump. But his own posts.

According to a study by the non-governmental organization Center for Digital Hate, Musk has spread 50 false or misleading messages on X since January about the upcoming presidential election in the USA alone. Musk's false messages have already been viewed almost 1.2 billion times this year, according to the center. False messages that could benefit Trump. And which are poisoning the political climate. According to his biographer Walter Isaacson, Musk wants to be seen as a “messiah”. He is convinced that he is right in everything he does and says. That makes him a loose gun. And that is dangerous.

As I write this...

...I'm still in a kind of Olympic spirit. For 16 days in Paris, you could watch ambitious athletes surpass themselves. With tears of joy and pain, with hope and adrenaline, despair and Covid - lots of great emotions. And a wonderfully motivating audience that not only cheered on their own, extremely successful athletes (“Allez les bleus!”), but actually rooted for everyone. Somehow this crisis-ridden time seemed to stand still a little, even and especially in France, which is currently in the midst of a full-blown government crisis. My personal discovery of these Summer Olympics is Breaking, this breathtaking mixture of athleticism, creativity, coordination, attitude and rhythm. Simply beautiful. See you in four years, Snoop Dogg!

Post Scriptum

That's what you call a roll backwards: the Liberals, who incidentally also provide the transport minister in the current government coalition, are seriously trying to score points with a clear “pro-car strategy” for city centers against the alleged “paternalism” of the Greens. With fewer pedestrian zones and cycle paths and more parking spaces - preferably with a flat rate, as an alternative to the Germany ticket for local public transport. I checked the calendar: no, it's not April 1st. So it must be serious. It rarely happens, but in this case I really am at a loss for words...

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bumblebeeappletree · 1 year ago

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youtube

Official website: https://to.pbs.org/buffalo | #AmericanBuffaloPBS

Follow Jason Baldes, an Eastern Shoshone and a member of the InterTribal Buffalo Council, as he leads historic transfers of bison to Indigenous communities which will maintain their herds to supply a healthy food source and cultural touchstone for their tribal citizens. The film explores what living among the bison once again means for Native people—today and for future generations.

This program is made possible by viewers like you. Support your local PBS station: https://www.pbs.org/donate

Subscribe to the PBS channel for more clips:

/ pbs

Enjoy full episodes of your favorite PBS shows anytime, anywhere with the free PBS App: https://to.pbs.org/2QbtzhR

Facebook: / pbs

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Shop: https://shop.pbs.org/

#buffalo #bison #nativeamericans

HOMECOMING

Examine how the InterTribal Buffalo Council’s Bison Conservation and Transfer Program is supporting buffalo restoration to the Indigenous people whose lives, spiritually and physically, were inextricably linked to the bison for thousands of years. HOMECOMING is directed and produced by Julianna Brannum. Executive Produced by Ken Burns. Edited by Matt Leach. Music by Kevin Hoetger and Kyle Crusham. Cinematography by Jared Ames, Brittan Bendabout, Charles Elmore, Lindsay Jackson, and Buddy Squires, ASC. Audio by David Griesinger and Royce Sharp. The film advisors were Julie Dunfey, Dayton Duncan and Craig Mellish.

#pbs #solarpunk #buffalo #american buffalo #american bison #native american #indigenous #Jason Baldes #Eastern Shoshone #InterTribal Buffalo Council #wyoming #colorado #wisconsin #USA #Youtube

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blueiscoool · 2 years ago

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Ancient Latin Texts Written on Papyrus Reveal New Information About The Roman World

Researchers funded by the European Union have deciphered ancient Latin texts written on papyrus. This work could reveal a lot about Roman society and education, as well as how Latin’s influence spread.

Although the number of Latin texts found on papyrus dating from the first century BCE to the eighth century CE has grown as a result of new archaeological discoveries, these texts are frequently not given the attention they require. Therefore, they represent a vast untapped source of information and insight into the development of ancient Roman literature, language, history, and society.

Latin texts on papyrus in particular could provide information about the period’s literary and linguistic emigration. This might also reveal more about the educational environment, and paint a clearer picture of the Roman economy and society.

New approach to Latin texts

The EU-funded PLATINUM project, which was funded by the European Research Council, was launched to achieve just this. It began with a preliminary census of existing Latin texts on papyrus, in order to assemble and update collections.

“A key innovation was the multidisciplinary way we worked on these texts, bringing them under the spotlights of Latinists, linguists, historians – of Classicists, in general,” explains PLATINUM project coordinator Maria Chiara Scappaticcio from the University of Naples Federico II in Italy.

This work was pulled together to produce the Corpus of Latin Texts on Papyrus, six volumes of which will shortly be published by Cambridge University Press. “This is the major output of the project,” adds Scappaticcio.

“This work collects all the texts of interest, and offers scholars a reference source and tool. Its importance is clear when one compares what we knew about Latin papyri before PLATINUM, and what we know today.”

Groundbreaking linguistic findings

Several interesting findings were made in the course of the project. These include the startling discovery of Seneca the Elder’s Histories. “None of us could have imagined that such an important work would be found in one of the charred papyri from Herculaneum,” says Scappaticcio. “A new chapter in Latin literature has been rewritten thanks too PLATINUM.”

In addition, many previously unknown texts are now circulating among scholars as a result of the project’s work. The team has helped to forge new partnerships and exchanges between academic and cultural institutions.

“We also discovered the only known Latino-Arabic papyrus,” remarks Scappaticcio. “In this text, the Arabic language has been transliterated in Latin script. This text is unique and provides evidence of interactions between Latin language and culture, and Arabic language and culture in the early medieval Mediterranean.”

Cultural interactions uncovered

The PLATINUM project has helped to shine new light on the spread of Latin, especially in the provinces of the Late Antique Roman Empire.

Careful examination of the actual books, tools and materials that were circulating at the time has provided insights into, for example, how Latin was taught as a foreign language.

“We know now that Latin literature was circulating in the Eastern Roman Empire, and how this literature might have shaped knowledge,” notes Scappaticcio. “One of the main reasons for learning Latin, for example, was the necessity of familiarising oneself with Roman law.”

Scappaticcio believes that this research will benefit not only ancient historians and classical philologists, literates and linguists, but also cultural historians. “The work has opened the door to better understanding cultural interactions at the time,” she says.

“The work of PLATINUM touches on Roman Orientalism, as an aspect of multiculturalism in Antiquity and Late Antiquity.”

By Leman Altuntaş.

#Ancient Latin Texts Written on Papyrus #platinum project #european research council #herculaneum #latinists #linguists #historians #ancient historians #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire

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tanadrin · 1 year ago

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[Map: The Lende Empire at its maximum extent and the surrounding regions. Borders of neighboring non-ally states are not shown, though in this period almost the whole area covered by this map (save the very furthest eastern parts) was occupied by various statelike polities.]

The Lende Empire was a complex composite state throughout its existence, but by the Late Lende period its provinces, territories, possessions, and associated states could be grouped into several general categories.

Provinces were territories directly administered by the Empire's bureaucracy; these were divided into "sovereign provinces," which had their origin in the demesne territory of the Eju, and had special privileges, and "subject provinces," which were governed by the General Courts. By the Late Lende period, the sovereign provinces also selected their own senior officials, which were chosen by the General Courts in other provinces. The General Courts were divided in two: the Courts of Gaaizetsol administered the Eastern and Central provinces (red and teal in the map above), while the Courts of Unluis administered the Western Provinces and the seaborn republics.

Order possessions were the last remaining feudal territories, private possessions of the mystical schools or orders that had furnished warriors for the empire during its early years. Because their martial history was generally behind them by the time the western conquests began, almost all significant order possessions are found east of the Ejutaane.

Council provinces were subject republics granted a large degree of internal administration. Only the five largest are shown on this map. Lagara, Nejvir, and Gaurela were granted special charters when they were frontier fortress-cities; Iscelar was a state conquered by the Empire that was granted special status as part of the peace treaty; and Irdalais was incorporated by the request of its burghers, in return for exemptions modeled on Iscelar's.

Seaborn republics were mercantile enclaves founded by Lende merchants and sailors during the Late Lende period which had ambiguous status somewhere between overseas possessions and subject states. Escana and Caduis originated as filibuster expeditions by wealthy scions of the Orders with more money than sense; the others originated as trading outposts.

Domestic realms were conquered states or vassals that preserved a degree of autonomous self-government (usually run by local elites) upon incorporation into the Empire. Some domestic realms did eventually suffer being reduced to or annexed by provinces, usually as a result of local unrest; others were dissolved on their leaders' own initiative, since the rules of citizenship in the Empire were different for the people of domestic realms, and disfavored citizens who lived and worked outside their "home" territory. These rules were eventually relaxed, but only after considerable protest.

Protected realms or protected states were formally subject states that were not considered part of the Empire proper, but to which Lende had obligations (especially defense, hence the name), and whose citizens were granted special status within the Empire. The people of protected realms had most favored nation status when it came to trade, and were immune from alien taxes.

Frontier commanderies were essentially permanent military occupations, in regions that were persistent security problems (e.g., they produced numerous border raids or were strategically sensitive regions bordering hostile states). These regions were self-governing and the Empire made little effort to extract taxes, but were patrolled and garrisoned to prevent attacks on the Empire proper.

Tributary states were states that had obligations to the Empire, but to which the Empire had few or no obligations of its own. Relations with the tributary states were managed through a separate body of diplomats.

Permanent allies were states that had permanent general treaties of alliance with the Empire. By the Late Lende period, these were few, since Lende was the undisputed hegemon of western Vinsamaren. Utunnar was an ally ever since the Lende warrior Tavar of Narsaane had deposed its ruler and made himself prince of that city; it was dynastically closely connected with several powerful Orders, including Narsaane, and helped to defend Lende interests in northern Tarun. The Haq states in the north originated as client states set up in the wake of the destruction of the Haxar realm. And Aurila was the largest and most powerful of the Eilascer states, courted specifically to safeguard Lende interests in the north, and to ensure no united front emerged in Eilascer that would be detrimental to Lende power.

The vast size of the Empire ultimately limited the effectiveness of its administration, and projecting power into neighboring regions was expensive--during the later part of the Late Lende period, the Empire would slowly contract, reducing its presence in Kesh, Eilascer, and beyond the Umain Hills; its rulers would also, over the objections of numerous powerful factions, attempt to streamline and rationalize the administration, replacing domestic realms with "autonomous provinces," and fully abolishing the privileges of the Orders.

This process strained state capacity mightily, and unfortunately it did so as states on both the north and south frontier banded together to try to oppose Lende hegemony; major wars ensued. In the final few centuries of the Empire, although its external borders were not much smaller than shown in the map above, it was internally very fragile. Eventually, it fell to a cataclysmic civil war that resulted in the effective destruction of the state, at least as it had existed for the previous two thousand Sogantine years. Several successors sprang up in its place, but none with anything like the old empire's wealth and power. In the post-Imperial period, thousands fled--those that went east over the mountains became the Kuthra, a reclusive people who did their best to maintain their ancient traditions while making a living in the wastelands.

#sogant raha #tanadrin's fiction

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ukrainenews · 2 years ago

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Daily Wrap Up March 4-6, 2023

Under the cut:

Ukraine said on Monday its troops were still fighting against the attempted encirclement of Bakhmut, while Washington said that even if the eastern city should fall to Russia's offensive, it would not necessarily give Moscow momentum in the war.

NATO intelligence estimates that for every Ukrainian soldier killed defending Bakhmut, Russian forces have lost at least five, a military official with the North Atlantic alliance told CNN on Monday. The official cautioned the five to one ratio was an informed estimate based on intelligence.

The city council in the southern Ukrainian city of Zaporizhzhia has declared Monday a day of mourning after 13 people were killed when a rocket hit a high-rise residential building earlier this week, the council's secretary Anatoliy Kurtiev said.

Most of Ukraine’s winter grain crops – winter wheat and barley – are in good condition and could produce a good harvest, Ukraine’s academy of agricultural science was quoted as saying on Monday.

Negotiations to return the Russian-occupied Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant (ZNPP) to Ukraine’s control are not progressing, Ukrainian Energy Minister Herman Halushchenko said Sunday.

According to the U.K. Defense Ministry's intelligence update on March 6, the Russian military has been deploying 60-year-old T-62 main battle tanks as a result of continued heavy equipment losses. Furthermore, there is a "realistic possibility" that the 1st Guards Tank Army, Russia's elite tank force, will be re-equipped with the T-62s, the U.K. Defense Ministry added.

“Ukraine said on Monday its troops were still fighting against the attempted encirclement of Bakhmut, while Washington said that even if the eastern city should fall to Russia's offensive, it would not necessarily give Moscow momentum in the war.

President Volodymyr Zelenskiy's office said he discussed the Bakhmut operation with the chief of the general staff and commander of ground forces, who both spoke in favour of "further strengthening positions in Bakhmut" to continue the defensive operation.

Russia is trying to surround Bakhmut to secure what would be its first major gain in more than half a year, at the culmination of a winter offensive that has brought the bloodiest fighting of the war.

After Russian gains in recent weeks, Ukrainian troops have been reinforcing positions west of Bakhmut in apparent preparation for a possible retreat. However, the reports from commanders on Monday suggested they had not yet decided to pull out.

The intense battle has depleted both sides' artillery reserves, with thousands of shells fired daily along the eastern and southern fronts. Kyiv's European allies are working on a deal to procure more ammunition for the fight.

In the latest sign of a feud between Russia's military and the Wagner private army leading its Bakhmut assault, Wagner's boss demanded more ammunition and said his aide had been barred from the military's operational headquarters.

Speaking to reporters in the Middle East, U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said he would not predict when or if Ukrainian troops might leave the city, but that its fall "won't necessarily mean that the Russians have changed the tide of this fight".

"I think it is more of a symbolic value than it is strategic and operational value," Austin said.

Moscow says capturing the city would be a step towards its major objective of seizing the full territory of the surrounding Donbas region. Kyiv says Russia's losses in trying to seize a city reduced to rubble could determine the future course of the war by destroying combat power ahead of decisive battles later this year.

Ukraine's ground forces commander, Oleksandr Syrskyi, visited Bakhmut on Sunday, according to the military. He said that Wagner had thrown additional forces into the fight but that Ukraine's soldiers were fighting on.

Volodymyr Nazarenko, a Ukrainian commander in Bakhmut, said there had been no order to retreat and "the defence is holding", albeit in grim conditions.

"The situation in Bakhmut and around it is utter hell, as it is on the entire eastern front," Nazarenko said in a video posted on Telegram.”-via Reuters

“NATO intelligence estimates that for every Ukrainian soldier killed defending Bakhmut, Russian forces have lost at least five, a military official with the North Atlantic alliance told CNN on Monday.

The official cautioned the five to one ratio was an informed estimate based on intelligence.

The official spoke to CNN on the condition they remain anonymous because they are not allowed to discuss this intelligence. Despite the favorable ratio, they also said Ukraine was suffering significant losses defending the city.

Ukrainian officials have repeatedly claimed they were inflicting heavy losses on Russia as Moscow tried to take Bakhmut.

“Our defenders inflicted significant losses on the enemy, destroyed a large number of vehicles, forced Wagner's best assault units to fight and reduced the enemy's offensive potential,” Colonel-General Oleksandr Syrskyi, commander of the Ukraine’s land forces said after a visit to Bakhmut on Sunday. The Institute for the Study of War also said Russia’s efforts to capture Bakhmut had significantly deteriorated its capacity for additional offensives.

“The Russian military will likely struggle to maintain any subsequent offensive operations for some months, giving Ukraine a chance to seize the initiative;” it said on Monday.”-via CNN

“The city council in the southern Ukrainian city of Zaporizhzhia has declared Monday a day of mourning after 13 people were killed when a rocket hit a high-rise residential building earlier this week, the council's secretary Anatoliy Kurtiev said.

“This is a great grief for the whole Zaporizhzhia. That is why tomorrow is declared a day of mourning in our city. Together, let us honor the cherished memory of everyone whose life was cut short forever on that tragic night in March,” Kurtiev said on Telegram Sunday.

Rescuers from the State Emergency Service searched for survivors for four days after the strike hit Thursday. Crews found men, women and a small child deceased.

Nine people — including one pregnant woman — were rescued from the rubble early Thursday, the State Emergency Service reported. Five others remain missing, Kurtiev said.

“Let's also thank the rescuers of the State Emergency Service who have been clearing the rubble for almost four days, day and night, without a break. They are our heroes. We bow to them,” he said. Kurtiev added that a city council meeting will be held Monday with the surviving residents of the affected building.”-via CNN

“Most of Ukraine’s winter grain crops – winter wheat and barley – are in good condition and could produce a good harvest, Ukraine’s academy of agricultural science was quoted as saying on Monday.

“The analysis of the viability of winter wheat … showed that the vast majority of plants were in relatively good condition,” the APK-Inform consultancy quoted a report by the academy as saying, despite Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Reuters reports the winter wheat area sown for the 2023 harvest decreased to about 4.1m hectares from more than 6m sown a year earlier as a result of Russia’s fullscale invasion of Ukraine on 24 February last year.

Of the winter wheat sown last year, only 4.9m hectares were harvested in Ukrainian-controlled territory, as Russian forces occupied some areas.

Ukraine’s wheat harvest declined to 20.2m tonnes in 2022 from 32.2m tonnes in 2021. Overall grain output fell to around 54m tonnes from a record 86m in 2021.”-via The Guardian

“Negotiations to return the Russian-occupied Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant (ZNPP) to Ukraine’s control are not progressing, Ukrainian Energy Minister Herman Halushchenko said Sunday.

“The situation is currently at a standstill,” the energy minister said during the Ukrainian national telethon “United News.”

The nuclear plant, which is Europe’s largest, has been under Russian control since March last year.

“Our position, which we voice on all international platforms, is that any negotiations on ZNPP should be based on: first, demilitarization of the plant, second, withdrawal of (Russian nuclear company) Rosatom employees from ZNPP. Thirdly, Ukrainian personnel should be able to operate the nuclear facility without pressure,” the minister said. “But in response to this, we received (Russian President Vladimir) Putin's null and void decree that ZNPP is 'federal property,'" the energy minister said.

Zaporizhzhia is among the Ukrainian regions annexed by Russia in violation of international law, and as part of that seizure, Putin has declared the plant Russian property and installed workers there.

As Russia continues to occupy the plant, Halushchenko claimed Ukraine is receiving “alarming signals” from experts with the United Nations nuclear watchdog agency working at the plant. The minister accused the Russian side of “behaving extremely unprofessionally” at the nuclear site.

Last week, the head of IAEA, Rafael Grossi, expressed concern about the situation in the plant, citing delays in rotations of its team of experts in the facility, an increased security presence on-site and nearby fighting.”-via CNN

“According to the U.K. Defense Ministry's intelligence update on March 6, the Russian military has been deploying 60-year-old T-62 main battle tanks as a result of continued heavy equipment losses.

Furthermore, there is a "realistic possibility" that the 1st Guards Tank Army, Russia's elite tank force, will be re-equipped with the T-62s, the U.K. Defense Ministry added.

According to the ministry, about 800 T-62s have been taken out of storage and equipped with better sighting systems that will "highly likely improve" their performance during nighttime operations.

The report also states that Russian BTR-50 armored personnel carriers, first fielded in 1954, have also been deployed in Ukraine in recent days.

According to the defense ministry, these older tank models are subject to "many vulnerabilities on the modern battlefield" due to the lack of modern explosive reactive armor.

According to the General Staff of Ukraine's Armed Forces, Russia has lost 3,423 tanks, 6,703 armored fighting vehicles, 5,307 vehicles and fuel tanks in Ukraine since the beginning of its full-scale invasion on Feb. 24, 2022.”-via Kyiv Independent

#Daily Update #Ukraine #Russia #War in Ukraine #Bakhmut #zaporizhzhya nuclear plant #nato #Zaporizhzhia

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