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miserablesme · 4 years ago

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The Les Miserables Changelog Part 3: 1987 Broadway Production

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. This time, we're going through all the changes between the musical as it existed on the West End around 1985-1986 and the revised libretto for the 1987 Broadway production.

In some ways, this is a much easier changelog to compile than the last two simply because it is much easier to find audio evidence of the show from this era than from its pre-1987 self. We have a full soundboard of the original Broadway cast as well as a very good quality bootleg of the very first Broadway preview, as well as several audios from the next few years which use exactly the same script. We also have an officially released Symphonic Soundtrack which almost (but not quite) follows this version of the libretto exactly. So no more relying on unclear bootlegs and speculation to figure out what was changed when!

Having said that, the changes in this production were MASSIVE. It's almost certainly the most extensive edit the show's libretto has received to this day. As such, this will be a very long edition of this blog. So make sure you have a bit of time on your hands before reading it! With all that cleared up, let's begin.

The first change literally can be heard as soon as the musical begins. The pre-Broadway show opens up with the same recurring motif also heard, for instance, at the openings of "At the End of the Day" and "One Day More". This music then transitioned to the instrumentals to the opening "Work Song". The post-Broadway libretto cuts right to the chase, with the opening instrumentals to the "Work Song" starting right up without any preamble.

One interesting little non-scripted change occurs later in the "Work Song", but only in American productions. For whatever reason, every American Javert from the original Broadway cast until the first Broadway revival sang "And I am Javert" instead of "And I'm Javert", for reasons that honestly baffle me. Again, the libretto retained the original contraption as far as I'm aware, and the West End production as well as later UK and Australian tours still used it as well.

The next change happens while Valjean is on parole. After Valjean pleads against the farmer underpaying him, this was the farmer's original response:

Do you believe

A yellow ticket of leave

Allows a criminal like you to earn full screw?

Since Broadway, his response is instead as follows:

You broke the law

It's there for people to see

Why should you get the same as honest men like me?

I much prefer this revised version. Though the information is essentially the same, it feels more dramatic, as well as feeling less awkward now that it is in the form of separate sentences as opposed to a single sentence spoken in three lines with pauses in between. Moreover, the phrase "honest men like me" as used here provides interesting foreshadowing for its more well-known usage in "Master of the House". One could spend quite some time analysing the implications of this recurring description, but this blog is long enough as it is so now isn't the time!

In the same number, originally the innkeeper's wife had the following remark:

My rooms are full

And I've no supper to spare

I'd like to help you really, all I want is to be fair

Since Broadway, her line has been slightly modified:

My rooms are full

And I've no supper to spare

I'd like to help a stranger, all we want is to be fair

I suppose "I'd like to help a stranger" sounds less slang-y than "help you really". Presumably this is why it was changed. I find the change of subject from singular to plural far more interesting. My hypothesis is that the writers wanted to make it clear than this is a communal grudge, not a personal one. Everyone around sees it as perfectly fair to deny shelter to a former convict, not just this one individual. I definitely prefer the revised line, but evidently the producers of the West End production didn't; that production held on to the original lyrics for more than a decade after they were originally revised! More on that in a later edition of this blog...

A more minor change can be heard during "At the End of the Day". Originally, Valjean asks the factor workers "What is this shouting all about?" The Broadway script changes this to "What is this fighting all about?" Much less trivial implications now. I'm curious as to whether or not a staging change may have accompanied this. Usually the two workers get into quite a bit of physical scuffle by this point, far beyond the realm of shouting. Did the original pre-Broadway production use more subdued choreography?

"The Runaway Cart" has some noticeable differences. After Valjean asks the townspeople for help, the original response was sung by the entire ensemble, and went as follows:

(SOLO)

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

There's nothing at all you can do

(ENSEMBLE)

The old man is a goner for sure

Leave him alone

The Broadway libretto revised this into a sequence sung by one individual at a time with the following lyrics:

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

The old man is a goner for sure

It will kill you as well

A female ensemble member sung "The old man is a goner for sure" while a male member sung the rest. I sort of like it better as an ensemble piece (something that would be largely brought back in later years, as I'll soon discuss) although I think it's cool that it rhymes now. Having said that, I'm fairly confident that no one in the real world has ever actually used the phrase "Heavy as hell"!

An official change in the libretto occurred in "Who Am I?" but listeners to the original Broadway cast would not have heard it. While the pre-Broadway show had Valjean refer to "This innocent who bears my face", the revised libretto instead refers to "This innocent who wears my face". Perhaps a means of avoiding repetition, given that the word "bear" is used again later in the number? Regardless, Colm Wilkinson didn't actually bother to adapt to this change! He still sings "This innocent who bears my face" in the Broadway production (as well as the tenth anniversary concert; not until his 1998 stint in Toronto did he ever start singing the revised lyrics). Since every future Valjean (except Ivan Rutherford for some reason) sings "wears", I still see it as appropriate to mention here.

At the end of the song, Valjean's "You know where to find me!", used on and off in the Barbican previews before becoming a settled part of the production by the final pre-Broadway libretto, is once again removed for the Broadway show. However, the West End production would keep it for a few years - more on that later...

Just listening to the original Broadway cast, one might think Javert's "Dare you talk to me of crime?" becomes "Dare you speak to me of crime?" However, this seems to be a Terrence Mann-exclusive change. Every Javert after him reverts to the original lyrics (as did Terrence himself when he returned to the musical fifteen years later). I'm still making note of the change here for the sake of clarification.

An instrumental change occurs between "Castle on a Cloud" and "Master of the House". Mme. Thenardier's "You heard me ask for something and I never ask twice" was original followed by three bars of notes, then by six more bars of notes that are identical to each other. After the Broadway production, however, those six bars of notes grow increasingly more dramatic as they go on.

A very slight change happens during the preamble to "Master of the House". Originally one of the guests proclaims "Hell, what a wine" while the revised libretto instead has him claim "God, what a wine". Definitely more natural in my opinion, though not a huge difference by any means.

A few subtle differences exist in the "Waltz of Treachery" number. First off, Thenardier originally asks "Have we done for your child what is best?" The Broadway libretto changes "your child" to "her child". I personally like the original lyric better, as it goes back to the idea established earlier that Valjean is metaphorically bargaining through the spirit of Fantine. It's definitely not a difference that makes or breaks the number, though.

Towards the end of the song comes another change that cannot actually be heard by listening to the original Broadway cast. In the pre-Broadway show, Valjean used the line "Let us seek out a friendlier sky", while the revised libretto has him say "Let us seek out some friendlier sky". However, Colm Wilkinson once again doesn't bother to adapt to the change, and unlike the "Who Am I?" change he wouldn't learn it over time either. He continues to sing "a friendlier sky" throughout his on-and-off performances as Valjean, right up to and including his 2002 run in Shanghai!

After the bulk of the number comes a more significant change. Prior to the Broadway production, as was discussed in the last entry, the "Waltz of Treachery" was followed by about forty-five seconds of vamping and then this exchange in the tune of "Castle on a Cloud":

(LITTLE COSETTE)

We're going home right now, monsieur

What is your name

(VALJEAN)

Now my dear

I've names enough, I've got names to spare

But where I go, you always will be there

Nor will you be afraid again

There is a sun that's shining yet

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I'm going to call you my Papa

(VALJEAN)

I'm going to call you my Cosette

The Broadway libretto replaced it with just under twenty seconds of vamping, followed by a sequence in the tune of the "Waltz of Treachery":

(VALJEAN)

Come Cosette

Come my dear

From now on I will always be here

Where I go

You will be

(LITTLE COSETTE)

Will there be children

And castles to see?

(VALJEAN)

Yes, Cosette

Yes it's true

There's a castle just waiting for you

This is followed by another fifteen or so seconds of vamping, and then the humming duet between Cosette and Valjean carries on as before.

Arguably the biggest change in the entire edited libretto happens now. Whereas the number was originally directly followed by "Stars", things have been moved around so that it instead transitions directly into "Look Down". "Look Down" itself receives a lot of adjustments. First off, the number began in the pre-Broadway musical with a bar of music that was then repeated. The Broadway version only plays the bar of music once, and the sung part happens immediately afterwards.

Gavroche's verse receives some lyrical updates. Originally it used the following lines:

This is my school, my high society

From St. Denis to St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

If you're poor, if you're free

Follow me, follow me!

The Broadway production rewrote that sequence a little:

This is my school, my high society

Here in the slums of St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

Think you're poor? Think you're free?

Follow me, follow me!

Better lines in my humble opinion; "slums" conveys the poverty of Gavroche's community much more effectively than the original line, and phrasing the "poor" and "free" lines as questions is more dramatic than their original statement form.

The old beggar woman's original "You give 'em all the pox" becomes the less grammatically accurate "Give 'em all the pox" for Broadway, though I have no idea if the original "You" was part of the libretto or simply an improvisation. Since seemingly all actresses used that line for the first few years of the West End production, it strikes me as warranting a mention.

Right after this comes another change. In the pre-Broadway show, the argument between the beggar woman and the prostitute was followed by an exchange by a few individual beggars. All of the following lines were said by one person at a time, the first three being said by female beggars and the last one by a male beggar:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen, dearie

Something's gotta give

The Broadway libretto changes this to an ensemble piece performed by all the beggars simultaneously:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now or

Something's gotta give

I really like the switch to a group effort, as it really emphasizes that the beggars are a community sharing the burden of poverty. It really feels like an epidemic to an extent that it doesn't when it's just a small conversation. Evidently the producers of the West End show didn't agree with me though, as they held onto the original sequence for more than a decade after the official change, and by that point it had already been largely reverted worldwide! More on that in a later blog...

Originally, the exposition about General Lamarque was given by a few random students (supposedly not specified in the libretto, but in practice portrayed as Combeferre and Feuilly). Some ensemble dialogue between beggars was put in between. Feuilly sings over the end of the ensemble's lines - but many have speculated that this was not intended by the writers, as the background music sounds super out of sync with his singing! Here's how the scene went:

(COMBEFERRE)

As for the leaders of the land

As for the swells who run this show

Only one man and that's Lamarque

Speaks for the people here below

(BEGGARS)

Something for a meal

Something for a doss

Something in the name of Him who died upon the cross

On the cross, come across

On the cross, come across, come across

(FEUILLY)

Lamarque is ill and fading fast

Won't last the week out, so they say

With all the anger in the land

How long before the judgement day?

Before we cut the fat ones down to size?

Before the barricades arise?

Fortunately, the writers of the Broadway libretto had the sense to change the purveyors of the message into people actually relevant to the show's plot, namely Marius and Enjolras. Moreover, the beggars' dialog was rewritten into a sequence that feels far less clunky to me. The background music was fixed to account for the solo singing (now done by Marius) overlapping the beggars' lines, so it is now perfectly in sync. Here's the edited exchange:

(ENJOLRAS)

Where are the leaders of the land?

Where are the swells who run this show?

(MARIUS)

Only one man and that's Lamarque

Speaks for the people here below

(BEGGARS)

See our children fed

Help us in our shame

Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name

(SOLO BEGGAR)

In the Lord's holy name

(BEGGARS)

In His name, in His name, in His name

(MARIUS)

Lamarque is ill and fading fast

Won't last the week out, so they say

(ENJOLRAS)

With all the anger in the land

How long before the judgement day?

Before we cut the fat ones down to size?

Before the barricades arise?

Much better in my opinion! It should be noted that David Bryant instead sings "these people here below", but as far as I can tell every future Marius (or later Enjolras - more on that later) sings "the people, which is the actually phrasing in the libretto.

One final change in Look Down: Gavroche now says that all of Thenardier's family is "on the make", as opposed to the original "on the take". A rather pointless change in my book, though it certainly doesn't hurt anything.

"The Robbery" is another heavily edited number. Thenardier's line after acknowledging Brujon, Babet, and Claquesous was originally as follows:

You Montparnasse, watch for the p'lice

With Eponine, take care

You've got all the hash, I've got all the cash

The Broadway show rewrote those lines into their still-current form:

You Montparnasse, watch for the law

With Eponine, take care

You turn on the tears, no mistakes my dears!

This changed lyric more naturally transitions the scene into the gang's actual plan, though the original is an interesting continuation of Gavroche's recollection of Thenardier once running a hash house.

Mme. Thenardier's response is also altered from the original lyrics:

Here come a student from our street

One of 'Ponine's peculiar gents

Our Eponine would kiss his feet

She never showed a bit of sense

Into the current ones:

These bloody students on our street

Here they come slumming once again

Our Eponine would kiss their feet

She never showed a scrap of brain

It's interesting how the edit shifts the focus from Marius in particular to the students in general. It seems that Mme. Thenardier is less aware of the specifics of her daughter's personal life now, something that makes sense for her character.

After Mme. Thenardier's "You'll be in the clear", there was originally just eighteen seconds of a musical motif (the same one which opens "At the End of the Day" and "One Day More") followed by Thenardier's speech. Since Broadway, it's instead been followed by a few more lines of dialogue:

(MARIUS)

Who is that man

(EPONINE)

Leave me alone!

(MARIUS)

Why is here?

Hey Eponine!

Only now does the musical motif play. But instead of staying silent upon seeing Cosette, Marius now sings "I didn't see you there, forgive me..." Interestingly, in this video of a 1987 performance of the original West End production, Marius just stops without bumping into Cosette as he usually does. This makes me wonder whether or not the bumping was added into the Broadway version, and the lyric was added to accomodate for the blocking change. Of course, this is all speculation; I have no way to know for sure.

Thenardier's con job is also quite a bit different post-Broadway. Originally it used the following lyrics:

How you do? Spare a sou

God will see all the good that you do

Look monsieur, lost a leg

Hero of Waterloo now has to beg

Wait a bit, know that face...

The Broadway libretto edited it into its current form:

Please monsieur, come this way

Here's a child that ain't eaten today

Save a life, spare a sou

God rewards all the good that you do

Wait a bit, know that face...

It's interesting how Thenardier's facade shifts in focus from his own supposed hardship to that of an alleged child. I suppose the latter would be a good bit more effective in convincing passersby to donate!

During "Javert's Intervention", Thenardier now says "It was me that told you so, as opposed to the original "Wot told you so"; however, this seems to be a regional choice to account for a lack of Cockney accent, not an official libretto change. British productions retain the original "Wot".

“The Robbery” ends quite differently. Its pre-Broadway form had Gavroche’s remarks directly follow Javert’s “Clear this garbage off the street!” However, now Javert’s line is instead followed by some instrumentals to a slower version of the same tune as, for instance, “Honest work/Just reward/That’s the way to please the lord” and “He will bend/He will break/This time there is no mistake”.

After these instrumentals come the “Stars” number, now in a much more natural location given that Javert now has a logical reason to be thinking about Valjean!

The number itself is mostly the same, up until the final segment. After Javert’s “Those who falter and those who fall must pay the price”, he originally had the following lyrics:

Scarce to be counted

Changing the chaos

To order and light

You are the sentinels

Silent and sure

Keeping watch in the night

The post-Broadway show replaced this with a much more climactic remark:

Lord let me find him

That I may see him

Safe behind bars

I will never rest ‘til then

This I swear

This is swear by the stars

WOW, what an improvement! Now the stars are tied much better to Valjean himself, and Javert’s motivation is much clearer!

Now that “Stars” is over, we finally get Gavroche's remarks. The lyrics are the same; however, instead of the tempo progressively getting faster as it goes along, it now gets progressively slower. Interestingly the audio of the first preview has Gavroche saying "mother dear" instead of "auntie dear", but it's back to the original line by the second known original Broadway cast audio. Both audio feature Braden Danner; whether the "mother dear" was a choice on his part or a director's, a flub, or a libretto change that was later reverted is unknown.

"Eponine's Errand" has some significant changes. First off, the original libretto gave Marius and Eponine this exchange:

(MARIUS)

Did you see that lovely girl

(EPONINE)

A lovely two-a-penny thing

The Broadway libretto edited it a little:

(MARIUS)

Eponine, who was that girl?

(EPONINE)

Some bourgeois two-a-penny thing

Marius' request has also been changed from its original lyrics:

Eponine, do this for me

But careful how you go

Your father mustn't know

He'll strike another blow

'Ponine, I'm lost until she's found

Into some far clearer and more direct instructions:

Eponine, do this for me

Discover where she lives

But careful how you go

Don't let your father know

'Ponine, I'm lost until she's found

And yes, the line was "your father" right from day one. Michael Ball flubs it as "her father" on the complete symphonic recording, leading many to assume that was the original lyric which was changed later. But I'm not aware of a single live performance to use that lyric (which doesn't make a lot of sense anyway).

Another side note: Some Marius actors have very slightly changed the third line to "Be careful how you go" or "But careful as you go", though neither lyric is the standard.

Post-Broadway, as the instrumentals to "Red and Black" play, a student (I'm not sure which one) now shouts Enjolras' name before the singing begins.

During "Red and Black", Michael Maguire changes the original "It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like flies" to "Oh, it's easy to sit here and swat 'em like flies". However, this is an individual choice of the actor, not an official libretto change. Every future Enjolras I'm aware of (except Ramin Karimloo for some reason) uses the original line.

An actual libretto change occurs soon afterwards. After Marius' entrance, Grantaire originally asks, "Marius, what's wrong with you today?" The post-Broadway show changes this to "Marius, you're late. What's wrong today?" This makes it much clearer why Grantaire might suspect something is wrong.

Soon afterwards, Grantaire's original line "We talk of battles to be won, and here he comes like Don Juan" is slightly tweaked to "You talk of battles to be won". This is a little more appropriate, since Grantaire isn't actually doing a lot of talking!

After "Red and Black", Gavroche's part is very slightly changed. First off, American performances for a few years would have Gavroche whistle right before everyone quiets down, though I have no idea if this was in the libretto or not.

Secondly, Gavroche's original remark, "It's General Lamarque! He's dead!" is shortened to just "General Lamarque is dead!"

In another contender for the biggest change in the entire edit, the entire "I Saw Him Once" number is totally removed. I have mixed feelings about this. It does give Cosette, a frustratingly underwritten character, some additional content. However, stylistically it's not all that much like any other number in the musical, and it doesn't really add enough information to the show to warrant a whole song. So I say with regret that it was probably for the best to delete the number.

To compensate for the lost number, "In My Life" is lengthened to include the establishing character moments that "I Saw Him Once" originally did. Originally it opened as follows:

(COSETTE)

Dearest papa, can I tell him of this?

How can I tell him the things that I feel?

How could he understand?

(VALJEAN)

Dear Cosette, you're such a lonely child...

The post-Broadway opener is instead as follows:

(COSETTE)

How strange, this feeling that my life's begun at last

This change, can people really fall in love so fast?

What's the matter with you Cosette?

Have you been to much on your own?

So many things unclear

So many things unknown

In my life

There are so many questions and answers

That somehow seem wrong

In my life

There are times when I catch in the silence

The sigh of a faraway song

And it sings of a world that I long to see

Out of reach, just a whisper away, waiting for me

Does he know I'm alive? Do I know if he's real?

Does he see what I see? Does he feel what I feel?

In my life

I'm no longer alone

Now the love in my life is so near

Find me now, find me here

(VALJEAN)

Dear Cosette, you're such a lonely child...

After Valjean gives Cosette his cryptic defense of his secrecy, Cosette had a remark that is sadly incredibly hard to understand in the quality of the recordings we have. It apparently went something like this:

There are voices I hear

That come into my mind

Full of noise, full of fear

When the noise was unkind

In my life

I'm no longer afraid

And I yearn for the truth that you know

Of the years, years ago

Her post-Broadway response is much shorter:

In my life

I'm no longer a child

And I yearn for the truth that you know

Of the years, years ago

Shorter, but just as effective in my book. Plus, the use of the word "child" nicely ties into Valjean's initial remark that Cosette is "such a lonely child", as well as Cosette's frustration that he still sees her as "a child who is lost in the woods".

The next number, "A Heart Full of Love", also has a LOT of rewritten lyrics. First of all, after Marius' "I do not even know your name", these are his original lyrics:

Dear mademoiselle

I am lost in your spell

The Broadway production changed the lyrics into:

Dear mademoiselle

Won't you say? Will you tell?

I suppose this fits a little better with his remark about not knowing Cosette's name.

After Marius and Cosette finally learn each other's names (an important step in a relationship if you ask me!) this was their original way of showing their affection:

(MARIUS)

Cosette, your name is like a song

(COSETTE)

My song is you

(MARIUS)

Is it true?

(COSETTE)

Yes, it's true

The Broadway production rewrote it into the following:

(MARIUS)

Cosette, I don't know what to say

(COSETTE)

Then make no sound

(MARIUS)

I am lost

(COSETTE)

I am found

In my opinion, the rewrite captures the slight awkwardness of young love much better, as well as making a lot more sense!

Immediately afterwards, this is the original exchange:

(MARIUS and COSETTE)

A heart full of love

A heart full of you

(MARIUS)

The words are foolish but they're true

Cosette, Cosette

What were we dreaming when we met?

(COSETTE)

I can sing

(MARIUS)

Dear Cosette

(COSETTE)

A heart full of love...

The Broadway libretto redoes the scene as the following:

(MARIUS)

A heart full of love

(COSETTE)

A night bright as day

(MARIUS)

And you must never go away

Cosette, Cosette

(COSETTE)

This is a chain we'll never break

(MARIUS)

Do I dream?

(COSETTE)

I'm awake

(MARIUS)

A heart full of love...

Almost a totally different scene! The post-Broadway variant is better structured, but I do like the original too.

As the trio of Marius, Cosette, and Eponine exchanges inner monologues, Marius originally has the line "I saw her waiting and I knew". The Broadway libretto changed this to "A single look and then I knew". I kind of prefer the original, as it implies a little more than something as trivial as a cursory glance.

In the closing lyrical overlap of the song, Cosette originally sings "Waiting for you", but post-Broadway she sings "I knew it too". Then, she originally sings "At your call" but post-Broadway she sings "Every day".

During the opening to "The Attack on Rue Plumet", Montparnasse refers to Valjean as "the one that got away the other day" as opposed to his original "the bloke wot got away the other day". However, this is another regional change made for the sake of making sense outside of a cockney accent. The official libretto still had the original lyrics.

A tiny change occurs during Thenardier and Eponine's fight. Claquesous originally thinks it's a palaver and an absolute treat "to watch a cat and its father" picking a bone in the street. The Broadway libretto changed this to "see a cat and a father". Why exactly the writers felt the need to make such a miniscule edit is mystifying to me, but it certainly doesn't hurt anything.

Another change occurs later in the number, after Eponine's scream. Originally this was Thenardier's reaction:

Make for the sewers, don't wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

These lines were mixed up a bit for the Broadway libretto:

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don't wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The post-Broadway variation arguably is a bit less climactic due to it not ending on a threat. However, the original climax isn't all that appropriate since Eponine and Thenardier never actually interact at any later point in the musical. I like that the post-Broadway version ends on something that's actually relevant to the remainder of the show (namely, that Thenardier will be in the sewers). Evidently the West End producers didn't agree with me; this is another line in which the original was kept there for more than a decade (at which point a rewrite closer to the original was already being used worldwide)!

In "One Day More", Javert's "One day more to revolution" is slightly changed to "One more day to revolution". However, the number is otherwise unchanged.

And that's it for Act One! The opening barricade scene to act two has a small change. Grantaire's pre-Broadway "Some will bark, some will bite" was changed to "Dogs will bark, fleas will bite". Makes a lot more sense in my opinion!

The opening to "On My Own" is changed as well. Originally it was performed as follows:

And now I'm all alone again

Nowhere to go, no one to turn to

I did not want your money sir

I came out here 'cause I was told to

The Broadway version rewrote it into the following:

And now I'm alone again

Nowhere to turn, no one to go to

Without a home, without a friend

Without a face to say hello to

A huge improvement in my book. It actually rhymes now, and is far less likely to be misconstrued as ungrateful.

After receiving a massive overhaul not that long before, "Little People" was slightly tweaked for the Broadway show. The pre-Broadway version had this ending:

So never kick a dog

Because he’s just a pup

You’d better run for cover when the pup grows up!

Another line (taken from the original longer version of "Little People" as well as all versions of its reprise) was added for the post-Broadway show:

So never kick a dog

Because he’s just a pup

We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up

So you’d better run for cover when the pup grows up!

Grantaire's line afterwards is literally reversed in meaning from the original "Better far to die a schoolboy than a policeman and a spy!" into "What's the difference? Die a schoolboy, die a policeman, die a spy!" This post-Broadway lyric fits better into Grantaire's cynical personality.

A very subtle edit is made in "Little Fall of Rain" (to the point that I only just realized its existence by reading an old internet forum!) Pre-Broadway, Marius asks Eponine "Did you see my beloved?" The tense is changed from past to present perfect for the Broadway libretto, so that he now sings "Have you seen my beloved?"

"Drink with Me" receives quite a bit of editing. The opening few lines are originally all sung by Grantaire:

Drink with me to days gone by

Sing with me the songs we knew

Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads

Here's to witty girls who went to our beds

Here's to them and here's to you

Now, those lyrics are split between various students:

(FEUILLY)

Drink with me to days gone by

Sing with me the songs we knew

(PROUVAIRE)

Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads

(JOLY)

Here's to witty girls who went to our beds

(ALL STUDENTS)

Here's to them and here's to you

A far more touching scene now that it entails an entire group of friends reminiscing about their lives, as opposed to the thoughts of one heavily drunk individual.

Originally this was followed by a segment by the male ensemble:

Drink with me to days gone by

To the life that used to be

At the shrine of friendship never say die

Let the wine of friendship never run dry

Then, this was followed by the same lyrics, but sung by the male and female ensembles overlapping. The Broadway libretto removes that and replaces it with an all-new segment with Grantaire. It's much more cynical and philosophical than his original lines:

Drink with me to days gone by

Can it be you fear to die?

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Could it be your death means nothing at all?

Is you life just one more lie?

The lyrics from the pre-Broadway show, in their male-and-female overlapping form, are played afterwards.

The next change occurs during the Second Attack. Pre-Broadway, this was how the opening lyrics went:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand, Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but bullets running short

(MARIUS)

Let me go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

Some very small edits were made for Broadway:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand, Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but ammunition short

(MARIUS)

I will go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

The following exchange also is a bit edited. Here's how it went pre-Broadway:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same can be said for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go in his place, he's no more than a boy

I am old and alone and have nothing to fear

Post-Broadway, it instead goes as follows:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same is true for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go, he's no more than a boy

I am old, I have nothing to fear

Finally, Gavroche's final lines are as follows pre-Broadway:

So never kick a dog

Because he’s just a pup

You’d better run for cover when the pup grows up

And we’ll fight like twenty armies and we won’t give…

A small edit is made for the Broadway production, so that the latter two lines are reversed:

So never kick a dog

Because he’s just a pup

We’ll fight like twenty armies and we won’t give up

So you’d better run for cover when the pup grows...

I'd say this is an improvement, since Gavroche's death is all the more impactful when his literal last unfinished words are about growing up.

Not long afterwards comes the Final Battle. Leading up to Enjolras' climactic moment, the original lines went as follows:

(ENJOLRAS)

Come on my friends, though we stand here alone

Let us go to our deaths with our face to our foes

(COMBEFERRE)

Let 'em pay for each death with a death of their own

(COURFEYRAC)

If they get me, by God, they will pay through the nose

(ENJOLRAS)

Let others rise to take our place

Until the earth is free

The sequence was edited for Broadway, giving a bit more breathing space:

(ENJOLRAS)

Let us die facing our foes

Make them bleed while they can

(COMBEFERRE)

Make them pay through the nose

(COURFEYRAC)

Make them pay for every man

(ENJOLRAS)

Let others rise to take our place

Until the earth is free

"Dog Eats Dog" is a very heavily-edited number. First off, the vamping at the beginning originally lasts about 30 seconds. By Broadway, it has been reduced to about nineteen seconds.

After Thenardier's "As a service to the town" line, he originally sung the following lines:

It's a world where the dogs eat the dogs

And the worst is as good as the best

It's a stinking great sewer that's crawling with rats

And one rat is as good as the rest

I raise my eyes to see the heavens

And only the moon looks down

That entire sequence was cut for Broadway.

Soon afterwards, Thenardier originally proclaims "Here's a little toy". The Broadway edit changes it to "Here's another toy", perhaps to make it seem less repetitive after his "pretty little thing" line.

The exact same lines from after "As a service to the town" are repeated in the pre-Broadway number after Thenardier's "When the gutters run with blood" line, with one more line added afterwards:

It's a world where the dogs eat the dogs

And the worst is as good as the best

It's a stinking great sewer that's crawling with rats

And one rat is as good as the rest

I raise my eyes to see the heavens

And only the moon looks down

The harvest moon shines down

Unlike the first instance of those lines, they aren't completely excised for Broadway. They are, however, significantly rewritten:

It's a world where the dogs eat the dogs

And they kill for the bones in the street

And God in His heavens, He don't interfere

'Cause He's dead as the stiffs at my feet

I raise my eyes to see the heavens

And only the moon looks down

The harvest moon shines down

I really like how the edited version focuses more on godlessness than on how gross the sewer is. Not that a lack of a god is inherently sinister; I am quite agnostic myself and I think the unbreakable connection between religion and morality alleged by some is ridiculous. But it is blatantly obvious that Thenardier sees no reason to be moral provided no one will punish him.

As a side note, the 1985 London official soundtrack oddly uses this variant, yet the 1986 bootleg audio I have uses the original. Perhaps the original was experimented with, reverted, and later put in again? Who knows...

After the number, Thenardier now shouts Valjean's name.

The encounter in the sewers between Valjean and Javert originally ended as follows, with Javert's first two lines here in a tune not heard anywhere else in the musical to my recollection:

(VALJEAN)

Come, time is running short

(JAVERT)

Go take him, I'll be waiting at the door

I've never met a man like you before

A man such as you

The sequence was extended for the Broadway libretto, to the tune of "Look Down" and the "Work Song":

(VALJEAN)

Come, time is running short

Look down, Javert

He's standing in his grave

(VALJEAN - simultaneously with the next two lines)

Give way, Javert

There is a life to save

(JAVERT - simultaneously with the previous two lines)

Take him, Valjean

Before I change my mind

(JAVERT)

I will be waiting, 24601

A slight change can be heard in "Every Day". Originally Marius sings that he and Cosette will "remember that night and the song that we sang". The Broadway libretto edited this into the decidedly less medium-aware "remember that night and the vow that we made".

"Valjean's Confession" has been reworked to the point that it can scarcely even be considered the same song. After Valjean's "There's something now that must be done", this was how the song went:

(VALJEAN)

Monsieur, I cannot stay a night beneath your roof

I am a convict, sir, my body bears the proof

My name is Jean Valjean

I never told Cosette, I bear this guilt alone

And this I swear to you, her innocence is real

Her love is true

Our love, our life, are now her own

And I must face the years alone

(MARIUS)

I do not understand what's the sense of it all?

Is the world upside down?

Will the universe fall?

If it's true what you say, and Cosette doesn't know

Why confess it to me?

Why confess it at all?

What forces you to speak after all?

(VALJEAN)

You and Cosette must be free of reproach

It is not your affair

There is a darkness that's over my life

It's the cross I must bear

It's for Cosette this must be faced

If I am found, she is disgraced

(MARIUS)

What can I do that would turn you from this...

After the Broadway rewrite, Valjean's "There's something now that must be done" is followed by this:

(VALJEAN)

You've spoken from the heart, and I must do the same

There is a story, sir, of slavery and shame

That you alone must know

I never told Cosette, she had enough of tears

She's never known the truth, the story you must hear

Of years ago

There lived a man whose name was Jean Valjean

He stole some bread to save his sister's son

For nineteen winters served his time

In sweat he washed away his crime

Years ago

He broke parole and lived a life apart

How could he tell Cosette and break her heart?

It's for Cosette this must be faced

If he is caught she is disgraced

The time is come to journey on

And from this day he must be gone

Who am I?

(MARIUS)

You're Jean Valjean

What can I do that will turn you from this...

The few lines afterwards are the same, but as you can see not much else in the song is! Even the tune diverges a lot between the two variants. I'm very conflicted about which one I prefer. I gravitate towards the final one, though it's nice that the original actually tried to address to confusing notion that Valjean wants to tell his son-in-law of his past yet not his own daughter.

"Beggars at the Feast" originally ended with a solo for Thenardier:

(THENARDIER and MME. THENARDIER)

We know where the wind is blowing

Money is the stuff we smell

(THENARDIER)

And when I'm rich as Croesus

Jesus, won't I see you all in Hell!

The Broadway libretto switched this to a group line:

(THENARDIER and MME. THENARDIER)

We know where the wind is blowing

Money is the stuff we smell

And when we're rich as Croesus

Jesus, won't we see you all in Hell!

I much prefer the revised version, as the two Thenardiers clearly are in this act together. It seems more appropriate to let them both have the last laugh.

A small change occurs in the Epilogue. Pre-Broadway, Fantine sings "You raised my child with love". However, post-Broadway, she instead sings "You raised my child in love".

Another change occurs later in the epilogue. In the pre-Broadway show, Cosette tells Valjean that "It's too soon to ever say goodbye". The post-Broadway libretto instead has her sing "It's too soon, too soon to say goodbye". Repetitive as it may be, I prefer it over the original because the original awkwardly combines language clearly denoting the moment with language implying eternality.

Phew, we're finally at the end! Rest assured this is almost certainly the longest changelog you'll ever be forced to endure. I'm fairly sure it's complete, but this particular rewrite was so extensive it's not impossible that I missed something. Please feel free to let me know if that is the case.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, or some audios that you haven't traded in a few years, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

#les miserables #les mis #changelog #les mis changelog #marius #valjean #cosette #javert #eponine #enjolras #thenardier #1985 #1987 #broadway #part 3 #long post #the les miserables changelog

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lambden · 3 years ago

Note

this doesn't come as a surprise but once more i come to ask for more vesemir/fil :D with hurth/comfort and “Look me in the eye; are you sure you’re alright?”

14. hurt/comfort + 3. "Look me in the eye; are you sure you're alright?" T, 990 words, set in NOTW era / no content warnings

Vesemir wakes up panting, drenched in sweat. As he struggles to regain his breath, his companion Filavandrel crosses their tiny room in a second. The elf puts a hand on Vesemir’s shoulder, climbing onto the bed next to him. It would be like something out of a perfect fantasy if only he wasn’t still shaking, fighting the last vestiges of his nightmare.

The blond takes Vesemir’s clenched fist in his other hand, running his fingers over the witcher’s knuckles until finally Vesemir relents and releases the blanket. Then Filavandrel squeezes their palms together, murmuring too softly for any human to make out, “Bad dream?”

Tomas still claws at his ankle, monstrous ichor still running down his skin from where he got stabbed. He’s pretty sure he got stabbed; in this dream, the silver had been as heavy as it once was. Just like how it had happened in reality, Deglan had sent them out into the treacherous swamp near Kaer Morhen. This time, not a single recruit had made it back to the fortress.

“What do you fucking think,” Vesemir whines. He doesn’t have the energy to be nice, and the elf must sense that because he pulls away. Vesemir clutches at his fading grip in an embarrassing and pathetic attempt at pulling him back onto the bed but it isn’t necessary, not when Filavandrel is only retreating to the table between their beds.

Vesemir kicks his ankle out under the covers and brushes off the remainder of his dreams. This is reality— he isn’t in the Red Swamp, but in a surprisingly roomy inn somewhere in Kaedwen. And he isn’t in the company of long-dead friends but of the elf Filavandrel, who he keeps running into at the least opportune moments. They’re making it work despite— or due to— the strangeness of their circumstances. Vesemir doesn’t give much of a fuck if the world is against him as long as he can make some coin to reach his dreams, and while the elf’s motivations are more idealistic and less greedy, he’s on a similar page regarding the perceptions of others.

Now that he’s fully awake he can fully regret wasting a night like this on a nightmare. He and Filavandrel had rented a spacious room and split a bottle of fine wine, but then Vesemir had drawn away, throwing out some excuse about wanting to enjoy the comfortable bed. Why had he said that, anyway? Nobody rents a room like this so that they can just get a good night’s sleep. Even the innkeep had looked incredulous when he and Filavandrel had requested a room with two beds.

The elf, unaware of Vesemir’s ogling, pours from the pitcher on the nightstand and hands a small cup to Vesemir. Vesemir downs it greedily only to be disappointed when water hits his tongue, but he hardly isn’t going to complain. He needs to regain the hydration he lost through sweat anyway, and— oh, fucking hell, had he been crying in his sleep? This is fucking humiliating. It’s been years since his trials.

“Does that help?” Filavandrel’s hands fidget around the rim of his own cup, and when he notices Vesemir watching him he gulps it down in an instant, replacing it on the table. Then he settles back down onto the bed, nervously toying with the thin sheet still covering Vesemir’s lower half. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“The water was great,” Vesemir assures him, only so that he can watch the elf preen. Filavandrel might be a devoted, determined hero but try as he might to hide it, he’s got a proud streak a mile wide. A man after Vesemir’s own heart. “You know what might help? Maybe you could stay here,” he suggests boldly, reaching to cover Filavandrel’s twitching hand with his own. “With me.”

Filavandrel jerks a thumb towards his own bed. “I am staying here with you, remember?”

“Right, but…” Vesemir tilts his chin up, baring his neck as if he’s inviting a vampire into his bed and not an elf. “You know. It might provide a welcome distraction.”

To his genuine shock, Filavandrel doesn’t leap on the offer immediately. He turns his palm in Vesemir’s and places his other hand on top. It feels as intimate as a kiss; Vesemir frowns. The elf admits, quietly, “I heard you moaning names in your sleep.”

Vesemir tries hard to hide his wince. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I wasn’t calling for you. Filavandrel’s quite the mouthful.”

He winks, but Fil is having none of it tonight. “Not that kind of moaning.” Suddenly Vesemir feels trapped between his hands and under his gaze, and he itches to throw the elf out of his room so that he might get some actual rest without any interrogation. “You were calling for someone named Tomas…?”

“An old acquaintance.” Vesemir tugs his hand free of the elf’s grip and Filavandrel doesn’t hang on, but he doesn’t move away either. The witcher’s skin crawls. “I don’t know! It was a fucking nightmare. I’m fine, Fil.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re alright,” the elf commands, haughty as a prince. But his words hit hard, and Vesemir swallows, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he’s made himself. Deglan might hate this more than how freely and wantonly Vesemir wastes his coin from the Path. A witcher should meditate instead of sleeping, and he should force down any emotion that somehow managed to survive the Trials, and he should definitely not be making close friendships on the Path with people that could disappear at any second. Or worse, handsome immortal elves that could stick around forever.

“Do we have to talk about this,” sighs Vesemir. “Can’t you just fuck the nightmare out of me?”

“Maybe after,” Filavandrel teases, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “Who’s Tomas?”

“Fuck,” Vesemir closes his eyes. “Fuck. Fine! Get ready for a long story, blondie.”

#vesemir #vesemir x filavandrel #filavandrel #filavandrel fic #vesemir fic #i am once again banging on pots and pans and screaming can we PLEASE make a ship name for me to tag #drabble meme #feedingmyinsomnia #my writing #i love writing young stupid asshole vesemir so much. i love the bastard man #vesefil #vesefil fic

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meta-squash · 4 years ago

Text

Brick Club 1.5.13 “Solution of Some Questions of The Municipal Police”

Oh man. This one got long.

The spectacle continues. Fantine and Javert do not walk to the precinct alone; they’re followed by all the jeering spectators that were watching the fight. They are still yelling, laughing, genuinely finding amusement in Fantine’s humiliation. Fantine has returned to the mechanical lack of self she had before the fight. In the course of this chapter we’ll see her continuously oscillate between outbursts of presence and self-assertive distress, and moments of frightened distance and emotional shut-down.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.” Hugo keeps reiterating this. One of the worst things, aside from being an actual antagonist, aside from being an actual actor in the ruin of a person, is to be a bystander, a rubbernecker. There are no innocent bystanders, and by standing there, watching, finding glee and entertainment in the suffering of others, you are part of the problem. Curiosity is good, when it’s curiosity in pursuit of a solution or an answer in order to help someone. Curiosity is bad when the interest is purely voyeuristic. (I want to know why Hugo decided to use “to see” (voir) rather than “to watch” (regarder) in this sentence.)

Hugo’s discussion of the relationship between sex workers and cops is so sharp. The police have complete control over what happens to sex workers, who they choose to let go and who they bring in, how they are punished and for how long. I imagine, in cases that don’t include Javert, there’s a lot of “I won’t detain you if you sleep with me etc” type behavior from other cops. (Perhaps this is why Javert is so scary; he can’t be bribed or convinced and doesn’t use his status as leverage like that.) The police can “confiscate at will those two sad things they call their industry and their liberty.” This line just gets to me. The only thing people as poor as Fantine feel they have left is their way of making a living, and their freedom to be alive. Everything is else is on loan or in debt. And the cops can take those last two things at any moment. Not only that, but their industry and their liberty are both intrinsically connected to their bodies. Their industry isn’t something they can leave at the end of the day; they are always existing within the body that is also the main component of their livelihood.

I don’t know enough about legal proceedings of the era, but Javert is judge and jury here, condemning Fantine all by himself to six months in prison. On the other hand, Valjean (and Champmathieu) must go to court at Arras in order to be sentenced. Is this Hugo doing his Artistic Liberties handwavy thing, or could this have actually been done? It seems odd that some people could be sentenced by a random policeman and others have to go to court in front of a jury.

“It was one of those moments in which he exercised without restraint, but with all the scruples of a strict conscience, his formidable discretionary power.” Javert is extremely aware of his role in all of this. What’s fascinating to me about Javert is that he isn’t going around convicting people willy nilly, randomly making up crimes and things to fit a quota the way cops do in present day. With Fantine (and later, with Valjean, and even with the Thenardiers) he sits and he considers and he thinks about what he’s witnessed until he’s sure he’s seen a crime. The problem is, his morals and opinions are so rigid and unchanging that he could probably find crime almost anywhere, because he’s completely inflexible about what things are good or bad. Also, this arrest of Fantine is apparently a “great” (grande, as in big) thing, which I find interesting. Prostitution is essentially legal, so perhaps for him it’s a big thing because he finally has a reason to arrest someone whose legal profession he morally disagrees with? Or perhaps Fantine isn’t registered while most others are? Or maybe it’s big because it’s not just an arrest of a sex worker, but of a sex worker who has committed violence against a well-to-do gentleman? I don’t know.

“He was conducting a trial.” Nearly every time Hugo uses this phrase, when an individual character is conducting a trial of someone or something else, the resulting judgement is incorrect or too extreme. This happened with Valjean’s trial against religion, Javert is doing it here and will do it again at the end of the novel, Marius sort of does it to Valjean after the wedding. Each time a person’s worth is judged by a single person, the judgement falls short.

Fantine is terrified of prison, but part of her fear isn’t prison itself, but the wages. She’s more worried about the welfare of Cosette than herself. This makes sense to me. To her, prison itself probably doesn’t feel like it would be too much more miserable than her current state. The only increase in her misery would be her worry for Cosette and her inability to pay for her daughter’s care.

“Without getting to her feet, she dragged herself along the floor, dirtied by the muddy feet of all these men, clasping her hands, on her knees.” What an intense image. This is the condition of poor women: forced to beg for mercy from men who have power over them, while crawling through all the problems caused by those men’s uncaring and manipulative actions, dirtied by the utter lack of assistance from anyone with the actual power to help, and scoffed at when they clasp their hands and kiss the coattails of their oppressors.

Fantine’s monologue to Javert makes me so sad because she goes back and forth between “I did nothing wrong” and “maybe I was wrong to react the way I did,” when her reaction was so completely right. She asks, “Do they have the right to throw snow down our backs when we are going along quietly without harming anybody?” and I feel as though, in Javert’s eyes, they kind of do, because he disapproves of her profession in the first place. Fantine also brings up her illness here and in her other monologues, never as an excuse or even as an attempt to elicit pity, simply as an explanation. She also says “I wasn’t immodest with him, I didn’t speak with him. That was when he put the snow on me.” She literally tells Javert that she wasn’t trying to engage with Bamatabois in any way, that she was completely ignoring him even as he tried to incite her. The last chapter doesn’t mention how long he was mocking her for, only that her pacing brought her back to his spot “every five minutes,” which means he must have been out there harassing her for quite some time before he shoved snow down her back and she snapped. And yet, here she talks herself in a circle, suddenly turning around and saying “Perhaps I was wrong to get mad.” It’s just so sad that she’s completely in the right and yet she doubts even that.

And Javert doesn’t hear a word of her explanation or her pleas. She realizes this, and instead tries to use Cosette. But this isn’t her using Cosette to save herself, this is using Cosette to save Cosette. She realizes that if she goes to prison she won’t be able to pay for Cosette. She tries to use her “poor starved child,” tries to ask for pity for Cosette. If Javert won’t pity her, a sex worker, maybe he’ll pity her as the mother of a little girl. But considering Javert’s childhood, he probably sees Cosette as equally as bad as her mother, because she’s the child of a prostitute, born out of wedlock, living in poverty with some random innkeepers two hundred miles away.

“I’m not a bad woman at heart. It’s not laziness and greed that have brought me to this; I’ve drunk brandy but it was from misery.” God, this line. I don’t even know who would think something like greed or laziness (but especially greed) could bring someone into this line of work. Maybe if she was, like, a well-known professional sex worker in a Paris brothel she could make good money, but as a random woman walking the streets in a garrisoned town? She clearly makes practically nothing. And poverty like this isn’t lazy at all. Every second not spent sleeping is spent trying to make money, worrying about being able to pay rent or debts or to find food or some way to keep warm or whatever. I hate that even today people still think poverty comes from laziness.

“Great grief is a divine and terrible thing that transfigures the wretched. At that instant Fantine had again become beautiful.” I don’t really know what to do with this line. It feels like a weird fetishization of poverty and suffering?

“She would have softened a heart of granite; but you cannot soften a heart of wood.” Why can’t you soften a heart of wood? Because wood only rots when it gets soft. I do find it interesting that Hugo calls Javert’s heart wooden, but uses statue imagery for him for the rest of the chapter.

Javert declaring that "The Eternal Father in person couldn’t help you now” is a heavy line. The law is above even god here. If god appeared right now and told him to free Fantine, Javert is saying he wouldn’t do it. A page later we see him reluctantly stand down to Valjean, which negates this statement, but it’s interesting that at this instant, he says wouldn’t even be moved to mercy by god. And it’s true, he’s not moved to mercy, ever. At no point is it ever his decision to let Fantine go. He does not bow to pleas for mercy, but he will bow to authority, even if he questioned it a moment before.

Valjean enters without being noticed and watches the exchange. I feel like this is a weird reversal of Hugo’s “to see is to devour” from earlier in the chapter. Valjean is watching, but not out of voyeuristic curiosity. He intends to actually act, to do something about what has happened and help someone who needs help.

Throughout the last few chapters, Fantine has grown rougher with each loss. Her speech and personality has changed, she drinks, she is louder, less polite, and more childish. She’s lost her “modesty” and with that any pretense. There’s no more masking. She’s not trying to fit in, because that’s not happening anymore.

Somehow I’ve glossed over this line each time I’ve read the book, but when Fantine spits in Madeleine’s face, Hugo seems to imply that it reminds Javert of his suspicions re: Madeleine’s true identity. Javert sees this action and makes the connection between convict-Valjean and Fantine, and instead of seeing the sacrilege of a prostitute spitting on a mayor, for a moment he sees an interaction between two outlaws of society: a convict and a prostitute.

I’ve noticed that Fantine talks to herself in reaction to being freed in the same way that Valjean talked to himself when Myriel was first kind to him/when the bishop told the gendarmes to set him free, and the same way Eponine talks to herself. There’s a marked difference between moments when characters “talk to themselves” but it’s obvious that it’s a narrative mechanic of them thinking in their heads, and when they actually talk to themselves while other people are present. For Fantine and Valjean, it’s in moments when they are in great emotional shock/distress that they speak aloud to themselves while other people are present. (I’m not sure what to make of that in terms of Eponine, who always seems to be speaking mostly to herself.)

Fantine starts out this monologue talking to herself, but then she turns it into talking to Javert. It’s interesting that her utter rejection of Valjean means that she’s actually turning to Javert to speak, despite being absolutely terrified of him only moments ago.

Fantine announces that she’s not afraid of Valjean. Of course she’s not; in her eyes he’s done everything to her that he can. He has caused all her suffering and doesn’t have the power to cause anything more. She’s still afraid of Javert because he still has the power to hurt and ruin her. He can fine her or send her to prison, and condemn her for as long as he likes. She doesn’t know anything about Valjean, except that she assumes he doesn’t care. What she knows about Javert is that he does care, only that care is on the side of punishment, not one of mercy. It’s interesting then that she continues to try and appeal to his better nature (one which he does not possess) or to his pity (which he also does not possess). She also continues to try and convince herself that it is Javert who has decided to let her go, not Madeleine. It’s almost as though she thinks that if she can convince herself that he’s the one letting her go, she can also convince him to actually do it.

Fantine’s monologues keep coming back to wages. She specifically criticizes the way that the prison contractors do wrong to poor people by paying them so little for so much labor. Her discussion of her own expenses is also still applicable to modern day. She still owes money to the Thenardiers, but she’s up to date on her rent. This is still the experience of the poor: you deal with more immediate expenses first, and debts come second, even as they continue to rack up.

Both Fantine and Javert are thrown off balance by Madeleine’s declaration. Fantine spends her entire monologue before attempting to leave trying convince herself that it is Javert that has let her go. It is only when she hears Madeleine confirm that he was the one who declared it that she is thrown off-kilter, having to reconcile her opinion of Madeleine with his (perceived) actions. Javert is thrown by someone in an authority position acting the way that Madeleine is; this is the first time we see him actually question authority and refuse to act on an order.

“...that order, law, morality, government, society itself, were personified in him, Javert?” This is the only time, I think, where Hugo implies that a character is consciously becoming a Symbol. The fact that Hugo even suggests the potential for Javert to see himself as the embodiment of law, morality, society, etc is unique, because no other character sees themselves as the embodiment of such big concepts. The closest might be Valjean seeing himself as a Bad Person Forever, but even that is a much smaller concept, in that Valjean is looking at his past self, not at himself as the entire concept of Criminals Everywhere. But Hugo only gives two choices when it comes to Javert: either he is questioning authority for the first time in his life, or he is consciously becoming a Symbol. It turns out to be the former, but both of these things are really extremely significant.To become a conscious symbol, or even to have the potential of becoming a conscious symbol, is a unique level of conceptual engagement for a character, almost like starting to break the fourth wall. And questioning authority is a First for Javert here, significant because it starts the ball rolling and he continues to question Madeleine’s authority from here on out, even if it’s only to himself and not to his face.

“The insult does not belong to him, but to justice.” Okay so Hapgood translates this line a little differently, but WOW I love this FMA version a lot. Just the idea that something as small as an insult doesn’t even get to belong to the person it was directed at, but instead can be entirely claimed by the law. Now, I know that this line is supposed to mean that Fantine’s insult to Madeleine was by default also an insult to justice due to Madeleine’s authority position, but I always read it as the law taking this insult for its own use. Like, “This societal outcast insulted someone, so now we can arrest her, because any sort of social indiscretion from someone like that belongs to the law” or “this insult, because it was made in the presence of police by someone in custody, now belongs to the law rather than her or her target.” (It also reminds me of modern day cops, who arrest or threaten to arrest people simply for hurting their little baby feelings despite doing nothing illegal.)

Fantine goes through a parallel struggle to Valjean here. The man she hated so much (Madeleine) was her savior, just as the religion Valjean doubted and hated had been his. I mean, literally they have the same “two paths, one of light and one of darkness” symbolism, the same angel/demon symbolism, the same conflict about whether or not they must change their whole soul and beliefs, the same absolute terror, and then the final feeling of hope and gratitude. She kneels in front of Valjean the same way Valjean knelt in front of Myriel’s door.

This is also the first time we see Valjean’s benevolence in speech, action, and monetary terms. He rescued Fauchelevent, but we don’t seem him speak to Fauchelevent after that despite the purchase of his horse and cart and getting him a new job. We never see him speak to anyone else that he helps, especially since his usual mode is Reverse Robbery (thank you Mellow for that term btw) rather than in-person benevolence. But we do get him not only rescuing Fantine from prison, but speaking to her, offering her monetary help, offering her pretty much any assistance towards happiness. I wonder if the difference between Valjean’s interaction here with Fantine, and his interaction with Fauchelevent or any other person he gives money to or helps, is that this is the first instance that he feels guilty or personally responsible. Every other act of charity, including Fauchelevent is just that, selfless charity just because. But this, Fantine, is Valjean righting a wrong that has been done. Even though it was without his knowledge, he still seems to feel responsible.

Once again, we have a moment of hope for Fantine that is immediately dashed. Fantine is free, she’s going to get her daughter back, she can leave her miserable life for something better, her debts will be paid, she can be happy. Only she faints, and she spends the rest of her time in hospital until her death.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.5.13 #les mis #les mis meta

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 5 years ago

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Katara's still reeling after learning about bloodbending. Aang tries to help.

~~~

This one's gonna have discussion of how bending can kill people and allusions to death and stuff, just fyi.

Enjoy!

~~~

“Teach me how to heal?”

Katara blinked a few times and looked up at him. It took her a few seconds to focus on his face. “What?”

“Teach me how to heal,” Aang said again, and then he added, “please.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

Because you cried for hours last night. Because you kept apologizing to Yue. Because your hopes were completely shattered. Because I know how badly you wanted to learn Southern-style waterbending. Because one of your greatest heroes turned out to be the worst kind of villain. Because you’ve been staring at a field of fire lilies all afternoon. “You taught me how to fight...for obvious reasons. But...I know I’d prefer healing over fighting. And...I think we both could use it.”

Katara graced him with a weak smile. “Okay,” she said, straightening up. She already looked better at the prospect of a goal - a mission, something to make the world a better place. “Give me your arm.”

Sokka and Toph left them to it and stuck to the other side of their campsite, Sokka drawing out diagrams for sky bison armor while rattling off ideas, and Toph practicing her metalbending and telling Sokka that, as much as her skills were progressing, she would not be able to created mounted arrow-launchers, nor would they be able to train Momo to use them in time.

Katara spent the better part of an hour tracing her finger up and down her and Aang’s bodies, talking about the twelve standard meridians and chi flow and applying waterbending as a conduit. Aang soaked the information up like a sponge, watched Katara sink her focus into healing, and all the ways you could fix a person.

But eventually her words trailed off halfway through an explanation of how waterbending could keep a person’s heart beating, and she stared at her fingers hovering over Aang’s chest. “It’s...not so different, is it?” she whispered.

Aang took her hand in his. “It’s very different, Katara.”

She shook her head. “I just...can’t believe someone would use waterbending for something so evil.”

“I know,” Aang said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s - we’re supposed to be better than the Fire Nation. Waterbending isn’t evil, it’s good.”

“No bending is good or evil,” Aang said. “It just...is.”

“I’ve never seen firebending used for good,” Katara said dryly.

“Kuzon used to make shapes with it,” Aang shrugged. “People, animals. They’d dance around the campfire. It was cute.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Anyone who knows enough about the human body to heal it is also going to know how to hurt it,” Aang said. “Bending is just an ability, it doesn’t have morals. What’s good and evil is people’s choices on how to use it.”

Katara sighed. “I guess I’m just...so used to the idea of fire being the element that causes pain,” she said. “I never thought water…”

Aang hesitated - but she looked so lost, and she’d cried so much last night, and he cared about her so much. He glanced towards Sokka and Toph, saw they were still engrossed in their own conversation, hopefully far enough away that Toph’s hearing wouldn’t pick anything up. He leaned closer to Katara and said, very quietly but all in a rush, “Airbending can be used to suck the breath right out of someone’s lungs.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did she stared at him, horrified. “...What?”

Aang hunched his shoulders a bit. “Yeah.”

“You can - ”

“I can’t,” he said immediately. “That’s - it’s forbidden, and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t want to know how! But it’s...definitely possible. There were old stories. Legends.”

She took another moment to process it. “That’s... awful, Aang.”

“Yeah,” he said, and with a rueful grin added, “there’s reasons why we’re pacifists.” If you listen hard enough you can hear every living thing breathing together, Hue had said, back under the banyan-grove tree. The old Swampbender had no idea how true that had been for Air Nomads.

“I’d never heard that about Airbenders,” Katara said.

“It’s not like it was common knowledge,” Aang shrugged. “We didn’t even talk about it amongst ourselves much. I don’t think anyone even actually knew how to do it, just that it was possible.” Maybe a skilled master could have figured it out on their own, but none of them would ever have attempted it. And now there was definitely no one who knew how to do it - maybe no one who even knew it was possible, if Katara’s reaction was anything to go by.

If Aang never said anything about it, maybe no one would ever know again.

Aang had been grieving the loss of his people and the destruction of his culture for months, but if the knowledge of the asphyxiation technique disappeared, it would be one loss he wouldn’t mourn.

“Even knowing it’s possible is scary,” said Katara, who’d bloodbended a whole human fifteen minutes after learning the technique was possible.

“But we didn’t, Katara. We could, but we didn’t. It’s not the power that’s evil, it’s the choices you make in how to use it.”

Katara mulled it over. Eventually, she nodded, and they spent a long, silent moment gazing out over the field of fire lilies. The flowers were just as red and beautiful as they’d been in another field, several islands behind them now. Katara held a hand over the nearest flower, slowly moving her wrist and her fingers, and the lily’s petals opened and closed a few times, it’s leaves shifting in slow wavy motions.

It didn’t whither or dehydrate under her hand, but when she released it, the lily suddenly fell limp to the ground, unable to stand upright anymore, leaves and petals haphazardly splayed. Katara blinked. “I...must have hurt it somehow,” she realized, frowning. “Maybe I burst something inside.”

“It’s okay,” Aang said quickly. “It’s not like you bend plants much.”

“...Yeah,” Katara said after a moment. “You’re right, I don’t.”

At least it wasn’t a person, Aang didn’t say, because now was not the time to bring that up.

“They’re just flowers,” Katara said quietly. Sadly. She stared out at the fire lilies again. The field looked like a massive army of little red soldiers.

They were quiet again, for a little while. On the other side of the camp, Toph was telling Sokka that two horns was enough for Appa and they didn’t need to give him any more on his helmet no matter how cool he claimed it would look. It would not look cool, it would look stupid. She didn’t know much about looks but she knew for a fact she would be able to feel the stupid.

Finally, Katara sighed. “She didn’t even teach me any actual Southern-style waterbending.”

Aang wrapped an arm around her shoulders and thought of the way the nuns raised at the Western Air Temple had been able to walk around on the ceiling, perfectly upside-down with the rest of their home, how they’d laugh at anyone who attempted to mimic them, and how jealously they’d guarded that unique art. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.

Meridians are the paths chi flows through in the body, according to traditional Chinese medicine. I think when Katara attends that healing lesson, the dummy Yugoda is demonstrating on has the meridians carved into it. Also why did no one ever teach Aang healing I think he would've loved it and also I think healing deserves a bit more in-depth exploration as an art. The fantasy genre tends to just treat healing as another thing in the characters' bag of tricks and I'm getting tired of it.

Also I've spent all these years wondering "how did Sokka manage to make armor for Appa they didn't have a forge and we just see him working on it like once but it didn't make sense" and while I was writing this I was like "oh wait Toph can metalbend, duh."

It seriously kills me that Hama doesn't seem to have actually taught Katara any actual Southern Water Tribe techniques. Everything they talked about had to do with Hama learning to survive in the Fire Nation and pulling water from unconventional sources. No moves, techniques, or philosophies. So sad.

Also I kinda headcanon that Hama died very shortly after her arrest of either an aneurysm or a heart attack or something. It was Katara's first time bloodbending and she was under a lot of stress. :( I also don't think that the Gaang is aware of this - I think they high-tailed it out of Hama's village immediately. A bunch of disappeared villagers return home in the middle of the night with the old innkeeper in chains saying she's a witch who controlled them somehow and these strange kids saved them? That would probably launch an investigation, or at the very least a lot of questions, and no one knows Hama and Katara are Waterbenders. Bad enough some of the prisoners probably saw Toph bending her space rock into a key. The Gaang wasn't gonna wait around for someone to poke around the inn and find a flying bison.

Regarding asphyxiation, unfortunately for Aang, there actually is surviving literature regarding that old Airbender tale - a few mentions in anthropological texts, a few recorded bits of folklore, and some Sozin-era anti-Air Nomad propaganda. Fortunately, these records are really only known in academic circles, and even there it's pretty obscure knowledge. So just as long as no well-read martial arts experts with a deep appreciation/obsession over Air Nomad culture suddenly obtain airbending abilities, the knowledge of asphyixiation techniques is safely unusable! :D *cough*gdiZaheer*coughcough*

#kataang week #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #aang #katara #caelum writes

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lupinwritings · 6 years ago

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Any peterick historical au would be great

Becuase I’m a history geek and love a good obscure au, I used a random number generator to pick a year between 1 AD and 1990 AD to set the scene for this and we got 333 AD. Hope Pete and Patrick enjoy the Roman Empire. (Also this was a really fun way to come up with a plot if you guys like this idea feel free to tell me to do it again).

Bit of context: same-sex relationships were accepted at this time and most people had relationships with both men and women. Pre-marital sex was also fine as long as it wasn’t with a married woman. Also, relationships progressed a lot faster at this point, this was still in the era of dating for a week before being engaged, if that, so yes, I know the timeline seems strange for a modern reader. Just go with it.

Pete looked up to the sound of hoofbeats. The horizon was just barely tinted blue with the first signs that the sun would be rising soon. It was rare that the small town got any visitors so the young poet was taken aback to see a well-dressed man on horseback stop by where he sat at the city fountain.

“Can I help you, sir?” He stood, realizing that this man, respectable as he looked, might not mean to do any good.

The man took a shaky breath, Pete could hear the way his cheap armor shifted with the effort this took before he dismounted. He stood a little shorter than Pete and looked quite a bit weaker at the moment. “I only need a place to stay for the night and possibly food or drink if you have any to spare.”

Pete extended his arm “tell me your name and then I will take you to the inn.” Pete got the sense this man wouldn’t have the means to pay, not that anyone else in this forsaken corner of the world did, but he was sure something could be arranged.

“Patrick.” He took Pete’s arm, holding his horse’s reins with his other hand. It was an unusual name, he also spoke with a foreign accent, Pete made a mental note to ask more about his history in the morning - well, later in the morning. When they got to the entrance to the small inn, which was usually used for housing people while constructions were done at home as opposed to outsiders, Pete took the horse’s reigns to take them to the small stables before rejoining Patrick at the doors “go on. Joseph won’t turn you away. You look like you need rest.” Patrick just nodded in response and walked inside. The door’s closed behind him and Pete was left standing in the dark again, it was a bit lighter than it had been before, though. Sunrise would come soon, Pete still had a poem to finish before the town grew noisy again.

It was midday when Pete wandered into the inn and smiled at Joseph, the young innkeeper who could use a long rest and a shave but besides that, was a decent enough person. Joe leaned over the small counter “did you hear? One of the emperor’s own came in half-dead last night.”

Pete just hummed “how is he?”

“Haven’t seen him yet but one of the girls checked to make sure he was still breathing within the last hour. No one knows what happened.”

“Could I check on him?”

Joe gave him a confused look “Peter… why?”

“Just - I saw him last night and he looked bad but also scared. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Joe nodded and sighed “alight, but if this goes wrong I’ll have your head. I don’t want another repeat of-”

Pete laughed and was already ducking behind the curtain that separated the lobby from the hallway of rooms before Joe could finish. Finding Patrick’s room wasn’t hard, it was the only one that was still occupied this late in the day. He slipped past the wooden door to see Patrick on the straw bed, his armor and tunics set neatly below the window, as was his sword. Pete had missed that last night but clearly, Joe hadn’t. “Emperor’s own” he’d said, must have been a soldier. Patrick looked up but didn’t move, his head dropping back onto the pillow when he saw who it was “I apologize for my lack of manners. It feels as if I will keel over if I do any more than lay here.”

Pete laughed “I know the feeling. Glad to see you made it through the night. I believe you owe me an explanation, though.” He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down “who are you and why are you here?”

Patrick closed his eyes for a moment before answering “my name is Patrick, son of Avitus. My home lays south of Hadriani, laid south of. Well, I suppose you should know that Hadrian’s Wall has fallen, as will the northern front.”

Pete bit the inside of his cheek. Not a Roman soldier then, just a young man protecting his family from the northern Franks when the wall fell. “What became of your family?” He asked, afraid he knew the answer already.

“They’re traveling ahead to Germania. I hoped to travel straight through the nights to catch up with them but it seems… I may have underestimated my injuries.” He tried to sit up a bit and hissed, laying flat again.

“Has the apothecary seen you?” Pete said, pitying this man who couldn’t be much other than himself.

Patrick nodded “this morning while I slept. I thank you and your town for the kindness you’ve shown a stranger. I do not think I ever heard your name.”

“Peter.” He stood up. When you are well enough to walk, have Joe direct you to my shop. I do not want this to be the last time I see you.”

“Oh I doubt I’ll be well enough to go off on my own for quite some time, but I will, as soon as I have the strength to do so.” And then Patrick smiled and Pete felt for a moment that he was back in Rome during his schooling, hiding his face when a group of pretty girls would walk past. He dipped his head before he left. He waited for a moment in the hallway to regain his thoughts. He was definitely looking forward to Patrick’s recovery.

It was several days before Pete looked up to see Patrick in the door of his home-based shop. “Ah,” he breathed, standing to walk over and take Patrick’s arm “how is our local celebrity?”

“In quite a good deal of pain, but I wanted to see you.”

There was a moment of silence before Pete offered his chair to Patrick “I’m honored.”

Patrick laughed softly and looked around the room “it seems that I should be the one who is honored. An orator?”

Pete sat down cross-legged in front of Patrick and shrugged “poet more often, but I do what is required.”

“Well then write me something, mister poet.” Patrick took Pete’s hand and smiled “or do you have too many young ladies waiting on your attention for that?”

Pete frowned “what gives you that idea?”

Patrick touched Pete’s jaw gently “don’t take offense, dear, I only mean to flatter.”

Pete scoffed and stood to tidy his work table “well your flattery is far from accurate. And no, before you ask, the women here are not blind nor are they stupid.”

Patrick stood and wrapped the one arm that he could comfortably lift around Pete’s neck “I fear I’ve caused you injury.”

Pete shook his head and rested his forehead against Patrick’s “no, if I have you I have all I need for the moment. Do I have you?”

Patrick smiled and kissed him “yes, dear. What makes you mournful, then?”

Pete leaned back against his table, one arm still wrapped around Patrick’s lower back “that once you are well you will leave again, and then what will I do?”

Patrick pushed Pete’s hair back and looked up at him “I suppose you’ll just have to wait for me to come back.”

Pete looked at him for a second “you’re… your family is in Germania, though. Should you not -”

Patrick cut him off by kissing him again “I will make sure they are settled and provided for and then I will return to you. I told you, I’m yours. I hope you did not take that lightly.”

Pete smiled and wrapped his other arm around Patrick’s waist “then I suppose I can stop paying the apothecary to delay your treatments?”

Patrick laughed and took a step back “I dearly hope you say that in jest, because I feel we could enjoy ourselves so much more if I was not in so much pain.”

Pete took Patrick’s hands to keep him from moving back much more “of course. I would if you asked me to, though.”

“I have no doubt that you would. I’d rather you paid her to hurry it up, though.”

Pete sat down on the chair and Patrick sat on his lap, wincing for a moment before his grimace was replaced by a smile “this whole thing is taking far too long. I am glad I can at least get out of bed now, though. It’s dreadfully boring just watching the shadows on the ceiling all day.”

Pete ran his hands up and down Patrick’s thighs, not really listening to the other man talk anymore “I’m sure it is, dear.”

Patrick huffed out a breath that reminded Pete for a moment of the night he’d first seen Patrick, how broken and weak he’d seemed “where’s your mind gone off to?”

“I’ll just miss you when you’re gone,” Pete admitted.

“You’re missing me when I haven’t even left yet? You’ll miss me twice as long when you do that. Just enjoy me while I’m here.”

“I intend to.”

I didn’t mean for this to be as fluff-filled as it was but I’m tired and have no self-control. Please show this one some love because I’d absolutely love to do a part 2! Just get this post to 50 notes and I’ll make a sequel. Also send me more prompts if you want.

#peterick

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bleakvictory115-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 1, Haerdon

"You have us lost Kurt," Ecendar said, but Kurt refused to believe it. "No, no, I paid 10 pieces for these directions, I refuse to believe that inn-keep gave us directions of falsehood for that much." he says hitting the paper with directions with the back of his hand. "What even makes you say that anyway?" Ecendar uses his keen Elven senses to spot similarities in the land. "How many people did you see in that inn? Because I saw 7 and 3 of them were staff. They weren't exactly rolling in business. Also," Ecendar points to a nearby tree to his right, "that tree has a curved line etched into the first branch on its left. We've been here before." Kurt, saddened by the loss of yet more coin says "Ah, great. That's more money gone. So where now?" To which Ecendar replied, "You see that crack in the hillside over there, where it seems like the world is trying to make another cave? It's an exit of a Dwarven hovel. They're like glorified ants, I say. Burrowing their way through the earth, making their own world under us all. Personally I'd rather not deal with another Dwarf if I can help it but we're lost. May as well see if there's a dwarf around it." The pair traveled to the hill side which looked almost of a miniature quarry and smelled of sulfur, sweat and smelting ore. An explosion sounded underneath a rather large rock and smoke began to rise from its edges. The sound of a roaring fire and coughing could be heard underneath of it. A Dwarf surfaced from beneath the rock along with much thicker, darker smoke. The Dwarf was coughing violently and didn't notice Kurt and Ecendar. When he had finished coughing and brushed what seemed to be coal dust off his mining outfit he finally noticed them. "Oh, I'm sorry, is it a bad time to've surfaced? You folk gonna build a town here too, right o'er our hole?" said the Dwarf in his hearty accent. "That's somewhat why were here-" Kurt was interrupted by the Dwarf who almost entered a battle stance upon hearing those words "Then you'll hav-ta take it from us by force, cause we've lived here for centuries and we ain't about-ta go now." Ecendar clarified with annoyance in his voice, "You've got it wrong Dwarf, we're not here to plant the seeds of a town. We need directions to Haerdon, the next town over, do you know the way?" The Dwarf replied "Ah, sorry, can't be too cautious nowadays, can we? The name's Torque! My people an-I have rarely the need to come up during the day when all you people are about, didn't know if we were missing word of a new town! Haha!" Ecendar, being an elf and irritated by Dwarves slight lack of intellect and abundant surplus of cockiness, responds with "Well, maybe if you stuck your head out of your caves you'd learn a few things." To this Torque strikes back with "We like to keep to ourselves. Unlike you elven folk who go poking their nose in everything, all in the name of knowledge. Why can't you keep to your trees every few era or so?" In bitter irritation Ecendar says "I keep telling you people, we do not live in trees! We-" He is interrupted by Kurt. "Enough! Torque, Ecendar, both of you stop it, you can argue later. For now, we need directions. The name's Kurt. Torque, can you help us or not?" Looking only at Kurt, Torque says "Eh, I can help you, but your Elven friend here, Ecendar, he's too stubborn for my help. Come, I'll show you the way. You can buy me a meal and some ale for my troubles, eh! Haha!" Torque slapped his hands against his belly as he laughed, walking in the direction of Haerdon with Ecendar and Kurt not far behind.

As they neared a forest on their way to Haerdon, Torque said "Y'know, you were headed in the right direction, you just didn't go far enou-" He was interrupted by a sketchy looking man, walking out of the forest. Accompanied by 7 other men and women. "About time ya showed up, we want to get paid and leave!" the man said. "What do you mean?" Kurt responded. "Your directions, from the inn-keep, he's given those to many a traveler. Very few have made it. These are dangerous roads, you know. Enough talk, let's get this done." the man said. Him and his goons pulled their swords and axes out - it was an ambush. Ecendar used his bow to take down 2 of the ambushers before they got close enough to swing, while Kurt pulled out his sword and shield and Torque pulled out his rather heavy looking axe and hammer. Kurt blocked one male ambusher's attack with his shield, immediately slamming the shield into the man and piercing a female ambusher through the chest. His sword scraping across h!

ers before she died. He then sliced down onto the other attackers helm, stopping the man in his tracks. He stumbled backwards before crumbling to the ground. Meanwhile, Torque swung his hammer (which was in his left hand) at a man to the right. Cracking it across his head while he had his sword swinging down. Torque then spun back around, hitting another man in the chest with his axe. He then charged and jumped on the back of another man. He dug his axe into the man's back and began swinging wildly with his hammer. The leader of the group hadn't joined in the fight. Scared for his life of what he just saw, he ran into the woods. Ecendar drew another arrow and steadied his bow, but before he could release it the man was picked up. A woman walked up to him with her hand open, pointed at his neck. By simply turning her hand, she turned him to face her. The man began screaming before she closed her fist and his head exploded. She then turned and faced Kurt, Ecendar, and Torque.

The woman began to walk toward them, "I wouldn't shoot that bow if I were you," she said. "Believe me, it'll be the last arrow it launches." Ecendar lowers the bow, "Just so you know, I had him." he says. "I know, and I tracked these thieves for some time before you cut them down. I guess it makes us even." The woman introduced herself, "You don't seem to pose a threat to me... Name's Scarlett." Ecendar introduced himself as well as the others "I'm Ecendar, this is Kurt and the dwarf," Torque was now standing half behind Ecendar, "is Torque." Scarlett replied "Ah, seems like a harty crew. Where are you headed?" Kurt jumped in, "Before we go any further, you just blew that guy's head up with magic. Why should we trust you?" Scarlett assured him, "If I wanted you dead then what want would I have of talking to you? Besides, you saved me a moment of trouble. You did most of my dirty work and I still get paid at Haerdon for stopping them." Kurt spoke again, "Fair enough. Haerdon, you know the way?" Scarlett agreed, then Torque pulled Kurt aside and said "Firstly, I don't much agree with going with her. I don't much like magic, too unstable. Secondly, I guess you have a way to Haerdon. Won't need me anymore." Kurt responded with "You joking? How often do you get out of your caves? It'd be good to go to Haerdon with us. Also, I still owe you that meal and ale!" Torque smiled, "You know, of the humans I've come across most have been too foolish and rude for me to deal with. But you, you're different. I'd be happy to travel with ya, if only for the ale! Harhar!" Kurt says "Good to hear!" and the Two rejoin the group headed for Haerdon.

"Know that some of the people of Haerdon cannot be trusted," Scarlett said, "there are peddlers and theives that choose to hide away under guise of honest men." Kurt replies "Ah, we've not to worry about them, we have you to help us." Scarlett says "do not rely upon me to get you out of everything. Once I arrive I'm collecting my payment."

The group finally arrives at Haerdon, a town proud of its name and foundings. Scarlett immediately departs for her payment without a word, while Ecendar says he's going to "look around" which usually means that he's making sure no one is watching them. The town is bustling with a surprising large group of people for the size of the town. Kurt and Torque make their way to the nearest inn, one called Tankard's Keep, while Kurt is more on point with having lost money from an innkeep last time. They go up to the innkeep who says "Welcome, looking for rest, drink or food?" Before Kurt can answer, Torque says "What's the largest, strongest ale ya 'ave?" The innkeep replys with a drink called "StoneScale." "I'll take that 'n sum beef, thank ya sir." Kurt places some coin on the bar as payment. Torque looks at Kurt while the innkeep goes for the meal, "And thank you too sir." Kurt simply smiles and nods before asking "So, what all do you think we'll find in Haerdon? I mean food and drink is all well and good but what else could be he-" just then Scarlett more or less busts through the door with Ecendar guarding the outside.

She approaches the duo now looking at her. "I don't mean to alarm you but we have an issue." she says calmly leaning on the bar in between them staring at the wood. "Apparently someone from that group was the son of a powerful family here, and my payment came from someone claiming to be from the Brand Guild. You know, the ones that brand your chest when they have a bounty on you about a week before they kill you? Yeah, not a friendly bunch. My payer informed me that information travels faster than we, as the family is looking for us." The innkeep starts to walk back from the kitchen with Torques meal "Long story short we have to leave, now."

"But me meal!" complained Torque. "Put it in this bag and your mead in this waterskin! We'll meet you outside!" Kurt slammed a small bag and waterskin on the table before rushing to the door where Scarlett and Ecendar were. Torque stuffed and poured quickly while fumbling his short rotund figure to the door. The group moves fast but still inconspicuous enough to make it to the edge of town, passing beggars and market folk before being stopped by a guard holding a piece of parchment. "Hold, have you seen this one before?" The parchment is a wanted poster with a drawing of an amalgamation of them all. Long hair on one side while short on the other, a short figure with pointed ears and Kurt's nose.

"That is one odd fellow isn't it..? Can't say I have, sorry." said Kurt. Ah, well, keep an eye out if you will. Haerdon stands." the guard plants his fist on his chest as a 'good day' gesture before leaving. The group leaves Haerdon almost as quickly as they arrived, and while Torque stuff's food in his mouth and Ecendar reprimands him for it, Scarlett says "Good job back there with the guard, you spoke fast and calm. Gave him no reason to doubt us." Kurt replied with "What I lack in farm skills I make up for in people skills. So, how's it feel to be a labeled a amalgamation and a bandit in the same day and town?" Scarlett said "I've been labeled a bandit many times, the amalgamation is the first. Good thing is that whoever saw us in the woods earlier was very bad and describing who we were." Kurt said "Yeah, I'd rather not try that again." Kurt notices the sun going down. "Bad news is that there's no town nearby we can bed down at, so we'll have to make do nearby. That, there." Kurt points to a nearby treeline. "Just in the treeline will give us cover from most things, I suggest there." The group clear a small area in the treeline and get some rest for the night.

(I know this 'chapter' has been a large one but to those who have made it this far, I thank you. I will try to keep chapters coming once a week. Follow for more of the story, there's plenty more to come.)

#writing #first story #fantasy #fantasy story

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riviae · 6 years ago

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⭐fave lines per chapter MoF? Also your personal fave chapter and why?⭐

[cracks knuckles] k, let’s get to it! (bolded sentences are like my most favorite line)

under a read more bc this is,,, a lot:

chapter 1: “Oh, we’re plenty talkative. A side effect of immortality, I imagine. When one can live forever what is the point in conserving words? I have all the time in the world, unlike you, nameless witcher, who will die a bloody, forgetful death. No one to mourn you. No one to even bury your body. You could die here in this abandoned hut and no one would come looking for you. That is the pitiful fate of a witcher, abandoned by humans and gods.” Regis grabbed the witcher by the collar of his armor and threw him, slamming the man into the wall. -regis hitting the witcher nail on the head–witchers in-universe are relics of a bygone era. they are a testimony to how low humanity would go to preserve its progeny, taking abandoned or stolen children & turning them into killing machines… :///

chapter 2: Regis nodded, pouring Geralt another glass. “We are quite alike, you and I. Family sounds like something made for other people. I am not easily tied down. The fiercely independent sort, which I’m sure you’ve guessed. This world we younger vampires have been born into, the one we are merely sojourners in, is not kind. It breeds fierceness and mistrust. Even among my own people, though I am popular, I cannot say I have any close friends. Vampires know of me, but that is all. I guess that is why you’re still alive. Perhaps I’ll find more in common with a witcher.”-another regis monologue; oh man, if he only knew what was coming. the irony is still hilarious.

chapter 3: “Thanks. You’d make a good healer, you know. If you ever wanted to give up terrorizing villages.”

Regis laughed, exposing the tips of his fangs. “Perhaps in another life, Geralt. I enjoy being a fiend, to some degree. Healing sounds like a lot of boring, thankless work.”

“So is being a witcher. But someone has to do it.”-another nod to canon bc i love doing that lmao. good thing vampires can basically have multiple lives due to their longevity!! ‘cause joke’s on young regis lol

chapter 4: A sense of déjà vu seized Geralt when he awoke a few hours later. He was perched carefully on the back of Roach, a certain vampire taking up the majority of the saddle.

At his shifting, Regis turned to look at the witcher, giving a grin.“I do say, I’m starting to feel like your caretaker. Have you always been such a handful?”

“I…I’m alive?” Geralt said, tone laced with surprise.Regis rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Thanks to my quick wit, I was able to drain most of the poison out of your system. Which tasted horribly, might I add.” -i apparently have the most fun w/ young!regis’ dialogue lmao. but tbh 99% of the witcher series is geralt’s friends taking care of him bc he’s a disaster and prone to bouts of, well, near death ^^;

chapter 5: “Comfortable?” Regis asked, a teasing lilt taking over his voice.

“As comfortable as I’d be sharing a coffin with a corpse,” Geralt retorted.-ch.5 aka the start of the bed-sharing™ trope and also the beginning of genuine banter between geralt and regis!

chapter 6: “Thank you, Geralt.”

The witcher gave a small smile. “No problem.” Reaching into his pouch, Geralt retrieved the white vial and downed it in one go, closing his eyes. The White Raffard had the added side effect of being a mild sedative and tiredness—from the blood loss and the day’s events—robbed him of coherent thought as he felt himself drift off beside Regis. His head lolled against Regis’ good shoulder and he soon fell into a light slumber.

“Geralt,” Regis muttered with endearment, looking at the sleeping man, “you are truly an awful witcher.”-this is probably my favorite chapter tbh! we get a lot of bonding between geralt & regis, and this was also where i caved and made it a geralt/regis fic lol. i just think, in a technical writing manner, this was one of my better chapters. the scenes flowed well and i got some good banter in. my favorite things to write are generally dialogue and action–so i really enjoyed doing this one.

chapter 7: The innkeep’s mouth formed an O, worry knitting between her brows. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll write a letter to put on the notice board. In the mean time, did you find your lodgings to your liking?”

“It’s fine.”

Regis grinned. “As Geralt said, the room is good. No mites, fleas, or termites. Quite the sturdy bed, too…”

Geralt choked on his ale, sloshing some of its contents onto the tabletop in his surprise.If anything about the comment and the witcher’s subsequent panic startled the innkeep, she did not show it. She busied herself by checking the wine glasses for dust with a cloth, a soft smile upon her features.“Have you two known each other long? It’s quite rare to see a witcher traveling with another person.”

Geralt shook his head. “No, we’ve only been acquainted a short while.”

“I think you’re selling our relationship short, Geralt. We both know a great deal about each other.”

“That may be true, but—“

“Time doesn’t dictate closeness. I think we’ve experienced much together. Enough to make us close acquaintances, at the very least.”

The innkeep laughed. “I must agree with you, sir. Many travelers pass through my inn, but none as chatty and argumentative as you two. You remind me of an old married couple.”

“Well, one of us is ancient,” Geralt muttered under his breath to where only Regis could hear him.

The vampire, to his credit, merely snorted into his mug, giving a tight-lipped smile.-lol more geralt/regis banter.™ the innkeeper is truly the mvp here. -also, regis’ thoughts here make me sad™: The vampire pulled the hood up as he waited by the noticeboard for Geralt, the warm Toussaint sun fixed high in the cloudless sky. Regis closed his eyes and listened to the chatter of passing townsfolk, the sound of children splashing at the bank of the lake, the creaking of wicker chairs and the clacking of knitting needles, and felt something akin to peace. Quaint village life… perhaps in another life, in a time where he deserved such a respite, he would have settled down in a village like Francollarts and spent his time as a healer. He could imagine himself living on the outskirts in a yellow-roofed home, spending his free time reading on the porch and giving coin to the village children so they could buy sweets from the traveling merchants. He could see himself living a full life and then growing old, giving in to the gentle lull of time, and dying in a room full of people who loved and cared about him—people that he too loved and cared about.

But that wasn’t—and never could be—his life.

chapter 8:There was a sort of natural aristocratic shape to Regis’ profile that the fire highlighted, his high cheekbones, strong features, and onyx eyes begetting otherness in the same manner that Geralt’s cat eyes did. He looked out of place in a village, as if he were instead a traveling noble who had taken refuge at the inn, content to spend the day pretending he was just like the common folk.

And Regis was pretending, to some effect, that he was normal. Human. But the witcher had spent enough time with the man to see the nonhuman traits he tried to hide: his pointed nails that clutched the stem of the wine glass, the barest glimpse of his teeth which gleamed white and dangerous from behind his thin lips, the reflective layer of tissue in his eyes that Geralt had seen glow in the pitch-black darkness of their room, and the man’s lack of shadow, as if Regis wasn’t really there at all.-geralt checking out observing regis in this chapter was fun to write. i like that witchers are canonly observant and whatnot for their job.

also, this scene which i shamelessly borrowed from the book: “I apologize for leading you astray. But truly, you are much too easy to manipulate. It must be due to your youth. This world is cruel. It hasn’t broken you yet, Geralt, but it will and I’ll be there to see it.”

“No, you definitely won’t be,” Geralt said, pointing his sword forward.

To his surprise, the vampire moved so that the tip of the blade pressed against the center of his throat, scraping against his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Go on, then,” Regis leered. “Thrust it in.

chapter 9: “Hmm, how lovely. Truly, you are everything I’ve ever wanted—and more.”

Regis cupped the nape of Geralt’s neck, clawed hand digging into his mess of white locks to tilt his head up, capturing the witcher’s lips in another searing kiss.

Geralt melted into the touch, a warmth settling in his chest. He felt whole. Complete. It was beyond anything he’d felt before.-that dream sequence tho ;3c in all seriousness, i had fun writing this scene bc it was just.... end game geralt x regis. like how sweet they’ll be by the end of the fic.

chapter 10: “Thank you, Geralt."

“For what?”

“For giving me something to cherish.”-dream sequences, am i right? they’re always fun!! and give me the chance to show what characters would say if they weren’t inhibited by their pride. soft & sweet and to the point--regis is slowly falling for geralt and he’s gonna just... meet it head-on. bc what else can he do? he’s not gonna leave geralt unless the witcher asks him to.

#wishingformemoria #mof updates #<-- tag i'll use when talking about this fanfic in case y'all get tired of hearing me ramble lol #ask games #bless u amanda for asking this!!! i had lots of fun combing back thru these chapters

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goodqueenaly · 7 years ago

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what will happen to Edmure when Ser Forley's retinue is attacked on the way back to CR ? I hope we finally get a chapter in Westerlands tbh

I don’t think the chapter will be set in the Westerlands, unfortunately. Edmure and the rest of the party were just leaving Riverrun for Casterly Rock/the Westerlands at the end of “Jaime VII” (itself coming toward the end of AFFC), and while it’s certainly true that additional time has passed in ADWD (meaning TWOW could open a good deal later), I tend to expect the Prologue of TWOW to take place not long after the party’s departure. That doesn’t mean we’ll never see the Westerlands - GRRM has been promising Casterly Rock for a while now, and I myself see Tyrion going there in ADOS - only that the Prologue is probably not the place it’ll happen, and that that chapter will instead be set, probably at its farthest on the western edge of the Riverlands (more on that in a second).

Anyway, Jaime makes clear to Forley Prester his concerns about Edmure:

When Edmure and the Westerlings departed, four hundred men rode with them; Jaime had doubled the escort again at the last moment. He rode with them a few miles, to talk with Ser Forley Prester. Though he bore a bull’s head upon his surcoat and horns upon his helm, Ser Forley could not have been less bovine. He was a short, spare, hard-bitten man. With his pinched nose, bald pate, and grizzled brown beard, he looked more like an innkeep than a knight. “We don’t know where the Blackfish is,” Jaime reminded him, “but if he can cut Edmure free, he will.”

“That will not happen, my lord.” Like most innkeeps, Ser Forley was no man’s fool. “Scouts and outriders will screen our march, and we’ll fortify our camps by night. I have picked ten men to stay with Tully day and night, my best longbowmen. If he should ride so much as a foot off the road, they will loose so many shafts at him that his own mother would take him for a goose.”

Jaime is more right than he knows in his concerns. In allowing, indeed ordering Tom o’Sevens to stay while he offered Edmure the chance to live the rest of his life as a Lannister hostage, Jaime unwittingly fed his political strategy for Edmure directly to the Brotherhood without Banners. Now, while the Brotherhood has turned more destructive than constructive of late, Edmure might still seem useful to its goals. As the rightful Lord of Riverrun and a living victim of the terror of the Red Wedding, Edmure makes a useful figurehead for remaining riverlord loyalists, and an obvious supporter of the anti-Frey/anti-Lannister/anti-Bolton actions which the Brotherhood has been getting up to since the massacre.

So with the direct setup of Jaime and Forley’s conversation, and the knowledge Tom o’Sevens almost certainly carried back to the Brotherhood, I have no doubt that the Prologue of TWOW is going to involve the Brotherhood attacking Forley Prester’s train and trying to kill any Lannister men they can and capture Edmure in the process. (This is also why I think that the train won’t have gotten very far from Riverrun when the attack happens: if the Brotherhood is also “a day’s ride” from Pennytree - and this is almost certainly to whom Brienne is taking Jaime - then I doubt it will have gone too far from its base to attack the group.) I see Edmure in an endgame role - one of the rebuilders, someone who cares about the smallfolk in an era where humanity has just banded together as one to fight the Others - and for that, he has to live; the Brotherhood could very well have reasons to want him alive (and at least none to kill him). He’ll live as their prisoner, even if most everyone else - including, though my heart breaks to say it, Jeyne Westerling - aren’t so lucky.

#asoiaf meta #speculation #twow #edmure tully #brotherhood without banners

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chibinightowl · 7 years ago

Text

The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake

Link to Chapter Three

Chapter Four: The Realization

It took them the better part of a week to finally leave Jason’s lair, mostly because of the dragon’s inability to settle on which books he refused to leave behind during his sojourn in what he’s taken to calling the human lands. Tim jokingly referred to it as his exile, which wasn’t far off the mark as far as he was concerned. No one in their right minds should want marry him just for his brain, but Jason stubbornly insisted otherwise.

When the dragon groused about leaving the cave unattended for so long, Tim’s blithe response about no one using his books for anything other than kindling during a cold winter did not go over well, leaving Jason huffing smoke for several hours afterwards, effectively driving Tim out of the cave to fend for himself one night. It had been worth it, getting under Jason’s skin and seeing him pout like some maiden whose favorite trinket had been threatened.

The night before they planned to leave, Tim curled up in one of the plush armchairs, the book by the elvish healer Jason recommended (and unerringly found the day after he mentioned it) in his lap. An elvish grammar was tucked in next to him, which the dragon had also dug up for him after he admitted elvish was not a language he spoke or read well. Jason didn’t judge him for it though, other than stating that was another crime, and so they spent the better part of two days rectifying it.

His reading was slow, but utterly fascinating. He was also comfortably warm, the lighting perfection, and a goblet of mulled wine sat on a small side table next to him. It was the epitome of comfort and already, Tim mourned the loss. At least month of hard travel lay before them, the first stretch of it on foot as Jason didn’t have a horse. They’d discussed Tim riding ahead and Jason flying (flying!) after him a few days later, but the dragon didn’t seem particularly pleased with the thought of letting him out of sight.

Tim chalked it up to being part of Jason’s hoard now, a new and shiny bauble to play with.

A warm hand ruffled his hair and he looked up to see the dragon standing behind him. “Are you done packing, then?” he asked, closing his book.

“As much as I can be,” Jason replied, trailing his fingers down through Tim’s hair to cradle the side of his face. Tim leaned into it, enjoying the easy touch. The dragon was extremely tactile and for someone as touch starved as him, he welcomed the simple affection. “I think you’re right and that I’ll take little trips back here whenever it gets to be too much.”

Tim’s eyes danced in delight. “Did you just admit that I’m right about something?”

“Don’t get used to it.” Jason tapped the tip of Tim’s nose and removed his hand, striding around the chair to take a seat in the one opposite of him. “Are you going to bring those with?” he asked, gesturing to the books.

“Only if they’re ones you’re willing to risk outside.” Tim had learned that there were some books that Jason flat out refused to ever let see the light of day again, old and rare tomes that were so delicate to touch that he wore special gloves and used tweezers to turn the pages when reading. Tim had been enthralled by these and dutifully wore the gloves Jason gave him when he showed him one. The illuminated pages of the manuscript were some of the most beautiful he’d ever seen. His current reading material certainly wasn’t in that category, but there were others that the dragon simply didn’t want to leave the cave.

“The grammar is fine,” Jason replied after a moment’s thought. “Those are easy to find and, to be honest, I’m still surprised I even had it. The other one…” he stared a while longer, blue eyes growing darker the longer he remained silent.

“It’s all right,” Tim said, setting the healer’s book aside. “I’m not that far into it.” He wished he could read it faster, he really did, but the language was slow going, which was a shame because what he’d read so far was utterly fascinating. Who knew that the brain was capable of so much?

Jason surprised him though when he shook his head. “No, bring it. You’re enjoying it and I can smell your disappointment from here. I’ve got a special cloth I can wrap it in to protect it from dust and keep it dry if it rains.”

“Thank you.” It meant a lot that the dragon trusted him with one of his prized possessions. “I’ll make sure to take good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

The next morning, Jason sealed his cave and they were on their way. Tim wasn’t entirely sure how it was done, but there was magic involved, he could tell that much. Once the cave was secure, Jason put his human glamor on. His argument was that this close to his lair, he didn’t want to risk anyone putting two and two together. The air around him shimmered, light bending and refracting into little rainbows before it settled, leaving the dragon without his horns, dark nails, or his glowing eyes.

Tim sighed quietly because he liked those horns and loved what Jason did when he gripped them just right. But this wasn’t about his preferences, it was about Jason’s, so he shoved those thoughts to the side and studied the all too human looking eyes gazing back at him in amusement. “They’re still the same shade of blue,” he finally said. “I’m glad.”

Jason smirked, cocksure and comfortable now that his true self was hidden away. “Aw, are you becoming smitten with my eyes?”

“Amongst other things,” Tim admitted. It was hard not to be, especially after spending so much time with the man. Jason loved to tell stories but he also had a knack for drawing Tim out of his shell, asking questions about his life and his own studies, such as they were.

“I got lucky in the looks department, I know.” Jason teased and shrugged his massive shoulders. His tattoos were on full display as his choice of travel gear included a sleeveless version of the same black and red jacket he’d worn the night they met.

“Oh, so that’s not an illusion either?”

Jason threw a small rock at him, which Tim ducked while trying not to laugh. It was all too easy to rile the dragon up sometimes.

Tim’s lovely Robin was laden down with books and two small chests of nearly priceless treasures the dragon deemed insignificant enough to part with in return for Tim’s freedom. “I hope you’re worth it,” Jason joked, watching as the final straps were tied into place. “I didn’t think I’d have to pay this kind of bride-price for you.”

The mare did not look happy about being a beast of burden and Tim patted her nose soothingly. “Think of it this way,” he replied as they started down the faint trail, heading away from the cave. “You’ll be getting a massive dowry from me. And, when I die, all of these things will be coming back to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Something in what he said had the dragon huffing smoke before the man looked away. Tim had finally realized it was a behavior of Jason’s that only came about when he was agitated. It was something he filed away to ponder over later. Mortality was a concept he had more than made his peace with, even in the short span of his life. The war changed his perspective on death, after seeing how easy it was to extinguish even a single life and made Tim cherish it that much more. It was small wonder King Bruce only went to war when he had no other choice.

Apparently wasn’t something Jason thought much about, beyond abstract terms perhaps. The stories said dragons were ancient creatures, possibly even products of a bygone era. Tim knew this not to be true after Jason informed him he was rather young for a dragon. No longer a juvenile, but he was still working through what it meant to be an adult dragon. Others considered him brash and impulsive, to which Tim had to roll his eyes because no, that couldn’t be his Jason at all.

It took them six days to reach the large town on the edge of what Tim thought of as the human lands. The country beyond was considered wild and inhospitable, perfect for a dragon who wanted to be alone but still craved companionship. As they approached the wall considered by most to be the divide between civilized lands and not, it became clear just how backwards his beliefs on that concept was. Just because something didn’t conform to his expectations, did not automatically make it uncouth. He cast a glance over at Jason, who somehow managed to walk and read at the same time, and smiled. His mother would be having a conniption fit of epic proportions when he arrived home with the outspoken dragon.

Tim couldn’t wait to see it.

“Hey,” he said, trying to get the dragon’s attention. “We’re here.” On this side of the wall, there was next to no traffic on the road.

“Finally,” Jason sighed and closed his book with a snap. He rustled around in one of Robin’s many bags to put it away. “I want a bath and a place to put my feet up, not necessarily in that order.”

“Agreed. I stayed at the Everyman when I passed through before and enjoyed it well enough. You have any preferences?” Tim knew this was not Jason’s first visit. As the closest population of any kind in these parts, it was where the dragon often sought refuge from his boredom. The town was predominantly human, but he’d observed halfings and some dwarves last time.

“They’ve got the best ale on tap,” Jason replied with a grin. “I’ve been there more than once.”

The inn was their first stop and the while old innkeeper greeted them both enthusiastically, he directed Jason to the taproom right away to put his feet up. It left Tim to deal with unloading Robin. The inn was rather small and while there was a stable boy, there wasn’t a porter. Not that he minded all that much as there was some rather precious cargo aboard his mare and he didn’t want just anyone handling it.

As soon as everything was unloaded, Robin’s eye-roll of relief made Tim laugh. He rubbed her velvety nose. “I know. You didn’t like that at all. You’re a warhorse, not a pack mule.”

“Seriously, do you always talk to her like that?” Jason asked, coming out the back door and into the small courtyard with a tall mug of ale in his hand.

“Who else do I have to talk to?” Tim replied. “Besides you.” He handed the reins over to the waiting stable boy. “No biting,” he warned his mare.

Jason already had one of the chests balanced on his hip and a bag of books slung over his shoulder, all without spilling a drop. “I’ve arranged for our room. Follow me.”

“Our room?” Tim questioned as he picked up his bundles and the other chest. His chainmail weighted everything down, but he refused to wear it when there wasn’t a need to.

“Yes, our room,” Jason repeated, holding the door open for Tim. “You didn’t think I was gonna let all this stuff out of my sight, did you?” It was implied that the dragon considered him part of that stuff.

Tim didn’t want to even try and answer that question as he followed Jason down the short hallway and up the back staircase. “You seem pretty well known around here. What do you pass yourself off as?”

“An itinerant mage,” the man replied, shrugging his broad shoulders. He opened the door to one of the inn’s three rooms. “It’s not like anyone this rural would know better, and it explains the odd smoke I can’t help. When I get bored, even the company of humans is better than none at all.”

“Is that typical of dragons?” It was something Tim had been wondering about. He set the chest down on the floor and lowered the other bag of books even more carefully on top of it. His own gear he dropped without a second thought.

The room wasn’t huge, but there was a large bed taking up most of it. A chest of drawers rested against the far wall and a water pitcher and basin sat atop it. The sole window looked out over the small courtyard at the back of the inn.

“No, not really,” Jason admitted sheepishly, setting his burdens down on the bed. He took a sip from his ale before he continued. “We’re solitary by nature, until we find our mate.”

Tim wanted to ask more questions but bit his cheek to keep the barrage back as Jason was clearly uncomfortable with the topic. He felt he should say something though. “Well, if you do happen to find them while we’re married, I will of course release you from our vows. You should be with the person…dragon…that you love.”

The dragon gave him an unreadable look but didn’t say anything.

“Well, we still need to go get your horse,” Tim prodded, changing the subject. He stretched and eyed the bed, wishing there was time for a quick nap. The afternoon sun would soon fade into evening and as much as he wished they could linger for a day, they needed to be back on the road in the morning.

“No, you need to get my horse,” Jason replied pointedly. “I know precisely dick about them, aside from the fact they’re good eating.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You are not eating this horse when we get home.”

“You sure about that?” Jason grinned toothily. Even with his glamor in place, they still appeared longer than normal. “Besides, I am not leaving even this little bit of my hoard until I can set up some wards, even if I did get the key to lock up.”

The statement stung a little. “I thought I was part of your hoard? Doesn’t that mean I need to be watched over too?” It slipped out before Tim could stop himself.

Jason set his ale down on the dresser and crossed the room to Tim. He cupped his chin in a large hand and then warm lips were pressed against his own. Tim opened his mouth slightly when the dragon’s questing tongue sought entrance, turning the kiss from chaste to filthy in nothing flat. But that was often the way it was with Jason, his mood like his fire as it flared up and settled back down, stoked until the next time.

Tim blinked rapidly when the dragon finally released him, trying to gather his wits.

The other man looked altogether too pleased with himself. “There. No wandering off on me now, you hear?”

As though that was ever going to be a problem.

A couple hours later, Tim returned to the inn with a large bay gelding and a smaller brown packhorse in tow. New tack for both of them had been purchased and fitted, leaving his purse significantly lighter, for all that Jason had given him the coin to cover everything. He still didn’t like it, but this far from home, his own resources were dwindling.

Gaining the taproom, Tim spotted Jason holding court over by the fireplace. He chuckled at the sight of the locals crowded around him, listening to whatever story he was regaling them with.

Tim caught the attention of the pretty barmaid, a heavy tray balanced in one hand as she deftly wove between the tables. “What’s dinner tonight?”

She gave him an impatient look, eager to return to the story being told across the room. “Venison stew and a loaf of bread.”

“I’ll have that and an ale, please.”

The young woman nodded absently before making her way back to the fireplace.

Tim sat down at an empty table to watch Jason. This was the first time he’d had a chance to observe the dragon around anyone else and his fingers itched for his journal. Jason was, to put it mildly, simply captivating, even with his human glamor on. There was such a strong presence about him, one that drew people in despite the roguish exterior.

It had to be the smile, Tim decided when his dinner arrived.

To his surprise, Jason rose to join him, sitting down heavily across from him. “Did you buy dinner?” he asked with a wink.

“Yes, I did.” Tim pointedly looked down at his bowl. “Did you eat?” He didn’t expect Jason to, but he did have a cover to maintain as a human. How far did that extend?

“Oh, let me get you a bowl, Jason!” the barmaid said, having followed the dragon over to Tim’s table. She smiled, revealing a dimple in her cheek. “I’ll be right back!”

Tim snickered, watching her practically race into the kitchen. “You actually going it eat it?”

“Whatever I don’t choke down is going to you,” Jason replied, making a face at the thought of eating a human meal. “I don’t mind rare meat, but that,” he pointed at the bits of cooked meat floating in gravy along with some summer vegetables, “Is disgusting.”

“The things you do for your character.” Tim didn’t feel bad for him. At all.

Jason’s groan turned into a smile as the young woman brought an extra large bowl filled to the brim with the savory stew and some more bread. She beamed before she was called away to another table. Glowering at the bowl, he muttered, “Meat should be raw and bloody.”

Tim made a mental note to invest in a herd of cattle specifically for Jason when they arrived home. The trouble would be worth it as it would keep the local populace happy and no one could say they’d lost a cow to the dragon’s appetite, such as it was. He’d known him for almost two weeks now and had yet to see a single bite pass his lips. Drink was another matter.

Wine and ale didn’t seem to garner comment and Jason partook of both equally, especially after he ate about half of the stew, dumping the rest into Tim’s bowl when he decided enough was enough. The young woman running between tables didn’t seem to mind topping off his ale at all. Tim was pretty sure it never went below the halfway point the entire time he was eating.

Once the empty bowls were taken away, Jason rejoined the crowd by the fireplace. He started telling another story and flirted shamelessly with all the women in the small crowd, much to their enjoyment and to Tim’s amusement. It reminded him of something Jason had said before they slept together for the first time, about his own preferences. Human women.

Jason had been alone at the inn for a while before Tim returned with the horses. Plenty of time to fool around after setting his protection spells. A flash of jealousy raced through him before he squashed it hard. They were not married. Yet. Until they were wed, Jason could do as he wished. Tim too for that matter, should he have the desire to do so. Besides, he had no right to be jealous of anything the dragon did. Jason had saved his sad excuse for a life and given him the chance to make something of it.

Tim was never going to be able to repay the favor. Not in this life or the next.

From across the room, Jason shot him a concerned look, making Tim force his eyes away from the man. He stood abruptly and tossed a few small coins onto the table. A bath would be great right about now. Nice and private.

He stopped by the bar and made the arrangements with the innkeeper, who said he’d inform his wife right away.

Tim was halfway up the front staircase before he realized he didn’t have the key to their room. He’d have to get it from Jason. And that meant approaching him while he was under the eye of his adoring audience. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Forget something?”

Turning, Tim saw Jason standing behind him, a couple steps down, and dangling a key from one long finger.

“Thanks.” Tim attempted to take it, but Jason drew it back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes flashing in the low light of the stairwell.

“Nothing is wrong,” Tim replied. He tried to shrug it off, but it was obvious the dragon wasn’t buying it. “I want a bath and some clean clothes.” Jason should know by now just how fastidious he was and hoped his regular habits would play in his favor.

“Don’t lie to me, Tim. I can smell it.”

Double shit. Since when was this a thing he had to be concerned about? Smelling a lie? How was that possible? He knew dogs could scent emotions to an extent. Was this similar? Tim gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to focus. “I thought I’d give you some alone time,” he stated, trying to sound as matter of fact as possible. “You know, for…whatever. Or whoever.”

There. He said it.

The dragon closed the distance between them, standing on the stair just below Tim to look him directly in the eyes. “Do you want me to?” Jason asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Tim replied, trying to hide his discomfiture. “You’re the one who’s doing me the favor of a lifetime.”

The answer did not satisfy the other man and Jason leaned forward, his all too human eyes still managing to blaze with their intensity. “What you want matters, Tim. You’ve never had the freedom to speak up about it before, but with me, you always will. So tell me, what do you want?”

“I…” Tim didn’t know. The option to choose, to have a say in matters of the heart was not something he was used to having. Realization crashed down on him, bringing with it stunning clarity that Jason truly could give him everything he secretly desired. Acceptance. Companionship. A true partnership of equals.

In that moment, Tim fell in love. And immediately cursed himself because how could a dragon ever return the love of a human? Rather than face those still unearthly blue eyes, he snatched the room key out of Jason’s hand. “I want a bath. I’ll see you later.”

There was a small chamber at the back of the inn where, for a few coins, he could wash up in a small copper tub. The innkeeper’s wife brought several kettles of hot water for him while he filled a few buckets with cold water from the well in the courtyard. She fussed over him and brought him soap and a clean towel to dry with while promising his laundry would be done by morning. He’d spent two days here last time, enjoying the simple hospitality that wasn’t present in larger inns that he could have frequented instead.

“Now, if you need anything, just ring that bell,” she said, pointing to a small cord hanging off to the side.

“I will,” Tim promised and finally shooed her out. He stripped down and lowered himself into the bright tub. The water felt wonderful even if it paled in comparison to Jason’s luxurious bathing chamber. He ducked his head under the water, holding his breath for as long as he could before he came up spluttering.

What was wrong with him? Yes, Tim would freely admit he found Jason attractive. A person would have to be blind not to. He enjoyed what they had between them, shiny and new as it was. But what would it be like next year? Or the year after that? Things he should have thought of before accepting this little offer swarmed through his mind. He’d been so focused on his immediate situation that he lost track of the bigger one.

Tim never once believed he’d ever marry for love. He was of a high enough station his wife would be chosen for him, if his mother ever decided. She’d be furious the choice was taken away from her and that she wouldn’t have someone new to terrorize. Jason wouldn’t stand for it. At all.

And that was the crux of it, he realized. With Jason at his side, anything was possible. Choices that he never had before were now his, including whether or not he wanted to let his betrothed screw around with the barmaid. He shoved that thought out of his head. They’d agreed almost from day one that they would be faithful after their wedding. This was not something he’d take away from him.

Jealousy, Tim decided as he dunked his head under the water again, was an ugly thing.

When he resurfaced, Jason was standing beside the tub staring down at him, the small downward twist of his mouth indicating his displeasure.

“Are you trying to drown yourself? I didn’t think humans could breathe underwater.”

Tim shook his head, brushing back his hair so he could see better. “No, we don’t. I just like to hold my breath. It’s quieter under there.” He blinked some droplets of water out of his eyes. “Did you need something?”

He would not bring up his abrupt dismissal. Not unless Jason did.

The dragon leaned over him, hands grasping the edges of the tub as he moved closer. His nostrils flared slightly, scenting the air, scenting Tim. “You panicked earlier when I asked what you wanted. Why?”

Trust Jason to not beat around the bush. It would be refreshing if it weren’t directed at him. “You startled me,” Tim admitted, trying to hedge. He refused to state the real reason why he left. “I’m not used to being asked what I want.”

That should be safe enough.

Jason’s eyes crinkled, clearly not buying it. “You looked scared about something.” His voice lowered and he cast his gaze down, as uncertainty entered his expression. “Did I scare you?”

Tim sat up in a rush, water spilling over the edge of the tub and on the floor, splashing Jason for all that he paid no notice to it. “No,” he said vehemently. “You didn’t scare me. At all. I’ve never once been scared of you. If I were, do you think we’d have done everything we have together?”

Lazy afternoons spent by the small stream, Jason tracing idle patterns into Tim’s bare skin as they regaled each other with stories of their various adventures. Evenings in the cave sitting in companionable silence with their respective books. And the nights...Tim doubted he’d ever want to share a bed with anyone else, even if he only ever cuddled with Jason ever again.

“You could have forced yourself, thinking it was what I wanted. Humans are capable of that,” Jason tried. He looked utterly miserable at the thought.

Tim grabbed hold of his chin and forced his head up, locking eyes with him. “Yes, people do that. All the time. But I am not one of them. If I wasn’t interested in men, that first bath would have gone a lot differently. You’re attracted to my brain. Well, I’m attracted to the full package.”

Jason searched Tim’s face for a lie, nostrils flaring again as he sought out any trace of untruth. He must have finally believed him as he relaxed. “You’re not the only one who’s attracted to everything too.”

The admission rocked Tim and he sat heavily in the cooling water. “Why? I’m not anything special to look at.”

A snort of amusement followed by puff of smoke was Jason’s first response. “You’re not seeing through my eyes,” he stated once the smoke was under control again. “Standards of beauty change every year it seems but I have my own particular tastes. And while elven men aren’t quite so short, you share many of the same physical characteristics they do.”

Tim bristled. “I’m not that short.” The top of his head was level with Jason’s nose when they were standing upright.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

This time, the splash was on purpose.

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #Dragon!AU

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xiaolongpunch · 7 years ago

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Aeldria: A Skyrim Story

Journal entry number twelve

I decided to attend a lecture that was given today before leaving. It was about restoration and its impact on how good of a school of magic it is. While it is an overlooked school, restoration does have its place as one of the major school of magic. I also talked a bit with the teacher so she could teach me a few restoration tricks. And immediately after I felt more powerful. I can cast restoration spells more easily and my magicka seems to regenerate faster in combat.

(Restoration mastery: cast restoration soells for 50% less magicka, and restoration soells are 0.5% more powerful per level of restoration. Descending light: when you enter combat, regenerate points of magicka equal to half your restoration skill level per second. This effect gradually diminishes over the course of 15 seconds. The regeneration does not stop while casting(restoration for both))

Due to me waking up almost an hour into the afternoon, I arrived in windhelm around the evening. So I decided to simply continue and enjoy skyrim's nature. There wasn't any world ending threats to deal with so I took my time, I decided that I would stop at midnight, wether or not I had reached riften by then or not.

The reach of skyrim is probably my favourite of the holds, the weather is nice and warm, it reminds me of Morrowingmd at times, and the nature around the mountains is breathtaking. Maybe I'll try to see what it takes to get a house here.

I reached riften about two hours before midnight, the guards tried to tax me to enter the city but I quickly saw their scam and they let me go inside without problem. Someone stopped me after entering the city, they noticed my rather unusual gem and told me i should join the thieves guild to find its worth, im not much of a thief, ill just use it as a decoration really.

I entered the inn, and a priest of Mara was rambling about people's dark emotions and what not. He told me I could get married since Mara is the godess of love . while I do not accept the Aedra, perhaps one day i will find true love, he gave an amulet of mara so I can show my interest in someone. I wont wear it now, as to not draw the unwanted eye, I will wear it when the times comes. The innkeeper also told me I would find this face changer in the sewers, and so that is what my goal for tomorrow will be.

I woke up rather early. All because I wanted to meet this face changer before travelling down to meet the dawnguard. The sewers, as I expected were full of bandits whom fell to my magic like flies.

I found the face changer in a underground bar called the ragged flagoon. It was costly but I finally mamanged to change, well everything about me, I look like a totally new person now! Now it was time to head down to fort dawnguard, luckily it wasnt far from riften, so I was able to get there early afternoon. The weather however was horid, it was pouring rain ever since I left the city.

However, when I saw vigilants of stendarr in the halls of the fort, I felt anger rising through me, I kept my anger at bay, I was easily outnumbered and I left as soon as they told me to investigate dimhollow crypt. I will try to see if I can join these vampires, only to kill these bastards of Deadra hunters.

Normally I write these entries every night, but I wanted to go from fort dawnguard to dimhollow crypt without stopping, and so I did. It was a place near dawnstar, so it took a while to get there, in fact, I arrived the next morning after a night of riding, luckily I did manage to find some sleep on the main roads on my horse. However It wasnt good sleep, so I build my tent and a fire outside the crypt, and rested for a few hours before going in, around until mid afternoon. At least thats what I thought, I overslept until early night, it didn't matter, I had sleep, thats what counted.

The vampires were weak but I did contract their 'disease' from one of them, something I dont intend to cure. I activated some sort of tomb puzzle with my blood, well not willingly, there was a button and when I pressed it, a spike went through right my hand and activated the puzzle.

And what I unlocked, what I unlocked truly took my breath away. I..I already knew I didnt want to join the vigilants of stendarr and the dawnguard but after freeing this beautiful woman out, I definitely knew I wanted to join her. Her name is Serena, she needs me to bring her to her family home near solitude, and that is what I intend to do. I never thought I would say this but, I think I might have fallen for a human, an imperial of all things.

But she is quite older then I, when I asked her how long she had been trapped, she was shocked to hear Cyrodiil was seat of an empire, meaning she is from beyond four eras ago, before the rise of men in Tamriel. I didnt expect a vampire to be young but this definitely surprised me.

And while leaving the crypt, I found out she is a mage like me, already have things in common it seems. She proposed that we camp until sunrise, she is hungry so I shared some of my food with her while talking of our lives, to at least get to know each other. I can tell in her voice its hard for her to open up to me, maybe something happened to her in her life that made her untrusting of others.

We made it to castle Volkithar by mid afternoon. The reunion between Serana and her father was..awkward to say the least, I can see why she told me to keep quiet and let her lead the way onc ein the castle. Lord Harkon 'rewarded' me of saving his daughter by making me a vampire, of course this is what I wanted, but I despise how he treated her like an object.

He explained to me the powers while being in lord vampire form. He then gave me the first ask as a vampire. I need to fill a chalice with from a warerfall of some sort. I accepted the quest. But I decided to set up camp as soon as I went ashore once more. The den is near riften, and it is getting late. I will try to get to the den tomorrow, I will wake up early for this effect.

Aeldria, 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th of hearthfire, 4th era, 201

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roominthecastle · 7 years ago

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There's been much debate about the identity of the Incomplete One but so far not much concrete info to go on, so we are still just speculating. Which is what I am gonna do behind a read more, too, and a lot of it.

I know the "Wendigo view" is a popular one and for good reason. This "Naphil/Bastard Spirit view" is actually quite close to that interpretation and (given the similarities of the two entities involved) could be regarded as a "religious remix" of it.

There are several interpretations concerning the identity of the Nephilim, too, but I am going with the "angel view" here, according to which they are semidivine beings born of the sexual mingling of fallen angels and mortal women.

"Nephilim" can be interpreted as "the Fallen Ones", "the Violent Ones" or "giants". They are stuff of legends, the "warriors of old". They and/or their possible descendants are variously referred to as Elioud, Anakim/Anak, Emim (“Terrors”), Rephaim ("Shades"), Gibborim (“Giant Heroes”), Awwim (“Devastators” and “Serpents”).

They are mentioned and alluded to in various sources including the Old Testament (e.g. Genesis, Numbers, Ezekiel), the New Testament (e.g. Peter, Jude), and the apocryphal Book of Enoch, the content of which is echoed/reinforced in the Biblical books indicated above.

More on these behind the cut:

Genesis 6:4:

"The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown".

Enoch elaborates:

And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: ‘Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.' … And they were in all two hundred; …

[They] took unto themselves wives, and each chose for himself one, and they began to go in unto them and to defile themselves with them, and they taught them charms and enchantments and the cutting of roots, and made them acquainted with plants. And they became pregnant, and they bare great giants, whose height was three thousand ells. Who consumed all the acquisitions of men.

And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another’s flesh, and drink the blood. … And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways.

So, 200 rebel angels ("sons of God") took mortal women ("daughters of man") as wives, and from their unholy unions powerful half-breed giants were born who later on developed a terrible appetite.

The angels' (Watchers) original mission was to protect and tutor mankind. They, however, deviated from the original plan and began sleeping with mortals. Then, to add insult to injury, they also started teaching them about sorcery, warfare, weapon making, herbalism, astronomy, astrology, meteorology, and even the wicked arts of cosmetics. Most of this knowledge was not meant to be revealed this fast and this early, some never at all, and so it was blamed for the eventual deterioration of mankind. The fallen angels and their offspring came to be viewed as a corrupting, polluting influence that upset the cosmic order, necessitating a "divine correction" to reset the world.

We can find this "demigod connection" in several flood narratives (e. g. Mesopotamian or Greek traditions) where the deluge primarily serves to correct/punish an imbalance caused by human sin, overpopulation, and overstepping of bounds. Boundary breaking, forbidden knowledge, and sin also go hand in hand in the Garden of Eden or Tower of Babel stories where mortal and divine mix in the human desire to "be as gods." Let's just say that this never goes down particularly well with the Lord.

The fallen angels (or “spirit beings who disobeyed”) were cast down into Tartarus ("pit of darkness") to await their fiery destruction with zero chance at salvation. The punishment for mankind came in the form of the Flood that was meant to wipe out their sinful existence and with it the halfbreed Nephilim as well. But some were spared.Their "flesh" died in the deluge but some of them were left to dwell on Earth in the form of dark, disembodied “bastard spirits” until Judgment Day. They have a sort of “divine decree” allowing for their continued earthly presence. Some equate these spirits with the first demons and while they are v similar, I’m not convinced they are exactly the same. Whether these “bastard spirits” are eligible for salvation is left unclear, but the Flood did not finish them off. There is also a direct reference to the Nephilim in a post-Flood era report given to Moses about fearful giants living in fortified towns in a "land that devours its inhabitants" (=Canaan). These are eventually driven out but, once again, some of them survive. What we can conclude for sure is that they are v difficult to eradicate.

How does all this fit into the mixed mythology of The Ancient Magus' Bride (TAMB)?

TAMB draws on various sources for its worldbuilding, and the Bible is one of them. God and the Church hoover on the periphery of the main story, and there are also characters who evoke actual biblical figures.

Characters reference God and Jesus in a manner that signals their existence is not in question and are forces in play, albeit in the background.

Simon is the local priest/preacher who's assigned to observe and report on Elias to his superiors. He has yet to take a more active role but it's clear their relationship is an uneasy one necessitated by lingering concern over Elias' past actions that has nothing to do with him practicing magic: "Why does the Church care so much about you?" "I... did a few things a long time ago. So now they are keeping an eye on me. Confronting them would be a pain for both of us, so sometimes I take care of little errands for them, and they turn a blind eye to me." (Chise and Elias, Chapter 9) "It's the price you pay for your freedom. If it had been any other magus, maybe it wouldn't have caused such a hubbub. But think about it. There has been nary a peep form you for years, and now you suddenly take on an apprentice? I've done my best to hide your actions from the higher-ups, but I can't afford to look the other way this time" (Simon, Chapter 3). "I don't know if you'd count [God] as an ally, but... I'll send up a prayer for you and yours" (Simon, Chapter 39).

Chise names her familiar Ruth which is undoubtedly inspired by the title character of The Book of Ruth who suffers a great personal loss and is the symbol of utmost loyalty and friendship: But Ruth said, "Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus may the LORD do to me, and worse, if anything but death parts you and me." (New American Standard Bible) "From now on your home is also mine" (Ruth, Chapter 12). This familiar bond "is the strongest of oaths, a pledge to share anything and everything with the bonded human. Senses, emotions, power, even time. … When you die, he will die, too" (Elias, Chapter 12).

Cartaphilus is none other than the Wandering Jew of Christian legend who is doomed to live until the end of the world because he taunted Jesus on the way to the Crucifixion. According to one version of the story, he struck Jesus and urged him to move faster, to which Jesus replied, “I go, and you will wait till I return.” He was later baptized as Joseph and lived a pious life, hoping for salvation (Encyclopedia Britannica). While TAMB's Cartaphilus is talking a much, much darker approach, he too is ultimately looking for the same thing: "What must we do to find salvation?" (Joseph, Chapter 33)

Rahab also appears in the Bible as an innkeeper/prostitute who helps Joshua's spies. Lindel's master shares her name but we don’t know enough yet to tell what else they have in common.

These examples show that the Bible and its ilk have a clear foothold in TAMB, which opens up all sorts of possibilities, one of them being the Nephilim theory. We don't know much about Elias, but what we know appears to line up with (the similarly limited) information about the Nephilim:

(1) The Nephilim are half-breed giants born from the unholy union of fallen angels and mortal women.

Elias in his "natural form" qualifies as a giant. He is also referred to as "incomplete" or "half-formed", an "abomination", and a "failed creature". His half-breed status is repeatedly emphasized, the Spriggan going as far as calling him a "cur" (Chapter 41).

Another curious detail pops up in the 3-part OVA where Chise is gifted a book titled The Lonely Little Star. Miura tells her,

"You might see nothing but pitch-black darkness right now. But you have to keep trying and trying, looking into the dark world. And off in the distance you'll surely find some light. … like the child of a star. And when you find the child of a star, they will surely find you, too. And you'll shine light on each other. And then your world will no longer be pitch-black. ... I truly believe you will meet a child of a star who will light your world."

If we accept that Elias is one of the Nephilim, then he was fathered by a fallen angel. Angels are associated (often identified) with stars, so it follows that he would be called "a child of a star". Him meeting Chise brings light into her life and vice versa. His dual nature - commented on by Alice in Chapter 11 ("sometimes we were allies, and at other times enemies.") -, however, means that there is also considerable darkness in him. He is a curse (darkness) who is also a blessing (light) when it comes to Chise - an odd duality that’s also touched upon in the manga when Rahab remarks, “Curses and blessings are fundamentally the same thing. It all depends on how you receive them” (Chapter 16). Chise has been nothing but kind and accepting of Elias, which is beginning to transform him.

(2) The Nephilim came to be regarded as a curse, a pollution. Most of them perished in the Flood but some survived as disembodied "bastard spirits" that wander the Earth until Judgment Day.

Elias himself confesses to Chise that his nature is shadow and, as a result, he is not good at e.g. cleansing magic. He is repeatedly accused of being destructive and in Chapter 41 he actually takes the form of a dark black cloud. The Spriggan then reprimands him, saying that he defiles the land and pollutes the world when he loses control over himself like that. He also seems to hold Elias responsible for an event or events involving the disappearance of many spirits and humans (Chapter 8).

The fae remark that Elias has a stench. When Chise falls victim to the dragon's curse, she is also told by an aerial that she has a stink about her now (Chapter 39). If cruses smell bad to fae, then it's likely that Elias carries a curse, too. Bastard spirits are cursed to walk the Earth until the end of days. Walking is one of the three things Elias can (or lets himself to?) remember from his still unknown past. He is also associated with thorns. Thorns signify grief, suffering, tribulation, mockery, sin and the curse of/punishment for sin (cf. the crown of thorns).

(3) The Nemphilim's chief sin was unnatural, unrestrained appetite. They devoured humans, animals, then "one another’s flesh, and [drank] the blood."

We don't yet know what happened to Elias, but we know that when Lindel first encounters him and asks what he is, Elias only replies, "I’m hungry," then promptly collapses. Later he says the only thing he remembers before his long walk is "red". He also confesses to having eaten humans before and to still having that urge from time to time.

Rahab, Lindel's master, describes Elias as follows:

He's got the feeling of a spirit or a faerie all over him, but at the same time, there's definitely something human about him, too. If he was just a human who'd botched a dark spell, then things would be simple. But no. This is actually more like the opposite" (Chapter 16).

The opposite would be a curse that's botched being human. This matches what Renfred says about him earlier, that he is a "filthy abomination, unable to become fully human, unable to return to being a spirit" (Chapter 6), and also how Elias describes himself to Chise: "I'm incomplete, you see. I'm not human but I'm not faerie, nor a spirit" (Chapter 7).

Bastard spirits are cursed and can be considered curses themselves (see above about pollution & corruption). They are alternatively called "shades" and are associated with death. In Chapter 21, a dying Joel asks Elias if he is Death, to which he replies, "Something like that." (having a skull for a head is also a nice visual clue here). If Elias is a dark spirit looking to end his cursed, incorporeal wandering, it makes sense that he is trying to rebuild what he's lost: his humanity (which is also the likely key to salvation).

He's already attempted to do this by crafting a "a shell of flesh" for himself, but it is rather flimsy/unstable still and, as it turns out, not the way to become human. Chise already told him that his meticulously crafted full glamour looks fake, and most recently Elias himself realized that the change actually needed was never external. Unlike his "human facade", his internal development is genuine, and if the story doesn't stray from its Beauty and the Beast roots, then we will likely see true love break yet another curse.

Oberon comments on this "project" in Chapter 8:

"Your change is truly splendid to behold, Incomplete One. Once you only watched from the shadows, but now you have a human at your side. You're trying to leave the colourless path you've walked all this time. It is more amusing than you can imagine, watching you play at being part of a pair. But I must wonder, how long can you maintain this facade of warmth for just one person?"

Not exactly a vote of confidence from the King, but the Queen nails it when she refers to Chise as the Other Half of Elias - she is the one who triggered genuine development in him which helps him rebuild his lost humanity.

What both the Queen and King of Fae share is a sympathetic view of Elias. Titania has a pronounced dislike for the Church and its representatives - all those who consider the fruit of paradise evil. The fruit is knowledge, which the fathers of the Nephilim dispensed among humans (sorcery included, so the first magi would have been tutored by them too). It wasn't knowledge that corrupted humans but humankind used knowledge for evil. Oberon also points to human sin when Spriggan blames Elias for an event that claimed the lives of many spirits and humans. Was it a war? Was it the Flood perhaps? There is no way of knowing for sure yet, but Elias definitely has a vicious reputation among fae and human alike, which makes him an outcast walking alone in search of salvation, just as Rahab described:

"Gods and spirits dwell at your side. Though none may look kindly upon you, though you may know hurt, and sorrow, and loneliness, know that they are always there, watching over you. And with that knowledge in your heart, be at ease. Seek your own salvation."

This already sounds like a “penance walk” of sort which folds nicely into the thorn imagery mentioned above. Rahab urged Elias to endure this fate in relative peace and Lindel relaxed his ingrained reflex to kill without consideration: “Take what you need, but only as much as you need to survive. If you have to kill a living thing to eat it, make its death quick and painless” (Chapter 16). If these “taming measures” were necessary, then it’s unlikely that Elias led a tranquil life before.

(4) The Nephilim are referred to as "warriors of old" and at some point were reported to live in large fortified towns.

(source)

Elias is sometimes addressed as Pilum Murialis (the Spear Wall), which evokes similar images to those above - war and fortification. It also has a duality - spear=offense, wall=defense - that's inherent in Elias. There are brief mentions of "great wars of before" where many magi and wizards were killed and their wisdom and knowledge were lost with them, but it is still unclear what exact role Elias played in these events.

Last but not least, Titania remarking that Elias is "our kin in a way" is a small detail that's potentially relevant. There are various theories about the origin of faeries and one of them says that they used to be angels who either got stuck between heaven and hell, or were cast out, i.e. fallen angels. If we accept this and the idea that Elias was born of a fallen angel/mortal union, then they are indeed kin in a way. Sort of half way.

#mahou tsukai no yome #the ancient magus bride #elias ainsworth #musings #speculation #long post

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mazurah · 7 years ago

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Lost in Time Ch. 16: Coping - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl are disturbed by the things they have discovered about the state of the world in the fourth era. They make some questionable decisions in an attempt to cope.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for alcohol abuse.

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Lost in Time Chapter 16: Coping

It was almost dark by the time the two of them made it back to the Bannered Mare, arms laden with purchases. They made their way through the crowded common room and up the stairs to their rented room, where Ma’zurah dropped her burden on the bed. She tugged off her new boots, and began organizing their supplies into manageable packs.

They’d had a busy day. They had returned most of Farengar’s books, sent Ma’zurah’s dirty traveling clothes to be washed, gotten Fayrl’s armor adjusted, picked up his newly sharpened daggers, sold most of Ma’zurah’s harvest of ingredients from the Shivering Isles--though she did hold back two pieces of amber she had found and four pieces of the dangerous, narcotic greenmote mushrooms--and procured all the necessities for life on the road, and then some. Ma’zurah had been amused to discover that Fayrl apparently intended to dazzle all the country folk of Skyrim with purchases of fancy clothing, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Fayrl’s apparent intention to cultivate a drinking habit--he’d gotten far more alcohol than was strictly necessary, and it put her in mind of Julan during the early parts of their relationship. Not necessarily the best of memories.

Thoughts of Julan inevitably led to thoughts of Vvardenfell and its troubles, and Ma’zurah suddenly felt like drinking, herself. She was not in the habit of using drinking as a coping device, but she had been through a lot in the past two days. Ma’zurah finished tying her newly purchased bedroll to her pack in preparation for the morrow, and stood with a sigh. “Ma’zurah could use a drink.” she told Fayrl tiredly.

Fayrl, who had been busying himself with restocking and meticulously tending to his stock of poisons and toiletries, perked up immediately at the prospect of drinking. There was so much about the activity he enjoyed. The silence had allowed his mind to drift to thoughts what he had left behind as well.

He had happened across a doll’s shoe in his bag that must have belonged to his son, Sildras; it had somehow wormed its way in amongst his belongings. His journal also sat beside him, chronicling the past six years of his life. He would normally have taken the opportunity to write in it, yet it seemed like, as a result of being thrown through time, perhaps it was best to have a separate book in which to put his thoughts to paper. His regular journal should remain for his own time. And when he returned, he could resume right where he had left off, as he planned to do.

He would return back to centuries before Ma’zurah had even been born. He hoped that he would still be able to remember her once he had returned. Would any of the things he procured in this time return with him? Surely not. Mephala had said herself, he was only her Champion in this time. The Ebony Blade was likely in the hands of another, more worthy Champion, in his time.

“I would be happy to accompany you if you would like to drink downstairs. If not, I am happy to simply order a couple of bottles from the innkeeper. There’s not much left in the bottle from earlier, I’m afraid.”

Mazurah nodded. “Ma’zurah thinks perhaps she would like to go downstairs. At least for a while. Nords are not the best company, but better than Ma’zurah’s thoughts right now.”

“Nords are lovely company for drinking. As long as they don’t feel in the mood for a fight they will just be loud and cheerful. I find it rather endearing.” Long were the nights Fayrl had spent in the company of Nords of all sorts. They were often put off by Dunmer, expecting the sort of pretentious snobbery his kind was so famous for. Yet a false attempt at trying to keep up with them and failing always succeeded at endearing himself to them. He never usually allowed himself let loose completely around those Nords, not until he knew he could trust them at least, but there were always exceptions. Some of those exceptions turned out to be his better lovers in Skyrim.

“If you want a Nord to like you, buy a few rounds of drinks and offer to match them, drink for drink, or even propose a drinking contest. It always puts them at ease. You don’t even have to keep up with them entirely--they do so love to prove they can handle their alcohol better than any other race. They like feeling that way; it makes them trusting, pliable.”

Ma'zurah held the door open for Fayrl and walked down the stairs. They pushed through the crowd and sidled up to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye Ma’zurah saw the bard, Mikael, duck into the kitchen with a panicked look on his face. She rolled her eyes.

“Ma’zurah could use a drink, please! Something sweet if you have it!” She told the barwoman. The woman nodded distractedly, and continued mixing a drink for another customer. She passed the drink over the counter to its owner, then ducked under the counter to retrieve a bottle labeled honeysuckle mead, which she passed to Ma’zurah. Ma’zurah tasted it, and perked up immediately. The barwoman chuckled and turned to Fayrl. “And what would you like, lovey? Fraid we don’t have anything from Morrowind, but we do have a few things imported from Cyrodiil.”

Fayrl smiled sweetly at the barwoman. “Do you have any brandy by chance?” A nice chilled brandy would be the perfect treat to end the day with. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it since he had not yet managed to secure a sacrifice for the Ebony Blade, but he had an Imperial that he was just waiting for the right opportunity to use for that purpose. And if not, there were always a few wretched souls on the streets late at night that got harassed by inconsiderate drunks who did not know how to accept denial. He had only to befriend one of said drunks and lead them away under false pretenses. He needed to shed blood soon.

“Oh I think we can find you something.” The barwoman wiped her hands on her apron and crouched to check under the counter again. After a moment, she stood. “Saadia!” A Redguard woman poked her head out of the kitchen. “Be a dear and check the cellar for some Colovian brandy for this darlin’ gentleman!” the barwoman instructed cheerfully. The Redguard, Saadia, bobbed her head and moved out of sight.

Fayrl smiled to himself. Colovian brandy would do just perfect. It was one of his favorites. Something about the way Imperials made their brandy always seemed to comfort him best. He could hardly explain why. It was sweeter than his palate normally had a taste for, and yet it did not bother him.

A dark haired man in a black robe stumbled up to the bar, bumping into Fayrl. “Oh excuse me--” the man cut himself off upon catching sight of Fayrl. “Oh! Well hello there!” the man drawled. He gave Fayrl an appreciative up and down look and grinned. “Aren't you somethin’! You don't look nearly drunk enough though. How would you feel about joining me for a drinking contest to win a staff? The name’s Sam!” The man steadied himself against the bar.

Ma'zurah gave the man an evaluative look. He was short--shorter than Fayrl or Ma'zurah, and his face was flushed slightly across his cheeks and nose. He was obviously already drunk. If the man’s slurred accent was anything to go by, the man was most likely Breton rather than Imperial. If they had been in Morrowind, Ma'zurah would have thought that the man’s simple black robe was an indication that he was a pilgrim, or possibly an independent mage of limited means, but in Skyrim, she had no idea what kind of people wore such attire.

Fayrl subtly checked to ensure his purse was still there, he did not suffer thieves lightly. When he found it to remain full and present, he donned a smile. “A drinking contest, eh?” Fayrl was sure this was a setup. A win that looked too good to be true often was precisely that. And yet, being away from his own mind for a bit seemed rather appealing at the moment. “I don't know that I need a staff. Ma’zurah,” he asked turning to her, “my love, do you want to play a game to win a staff? Sera Sam wants me to join him in a drinking competition.”

“Go for it.” Ma'zurah finished her mead and gestured for another.

“Oh-ho! I see you have the seal of approval!” Sam threw an arm around Fayrl and Ma'zurah’s shoulders. “I'll tell you what! You can be the judge! Or join in if you like! It’s all fine with me!” The man grinned at Ma'zurah. “And if it’s the staff that’s the problem,” he said turning to Fayrl, “we can just skip that part and do it for the hell of it! I find that raising the stakes makes it all that much more exciting though.” He giggled. “Get it? Stakes? Eh, eh?” He nudged Fayrl.

Ma'zurah snorted and accepted her mead from the barwoman. The Redguard cook came up from the cellar carrying a large bottle. “Sorry ma’am! The only bottles we have left are the large ones!”

“That’s fine Saadia, leave it here.” The barwoman said, and took out a glass to pour Fayrl some.

Fayrl was tempted to try touching Sam to learn his true intentions. And yet, if a guy like this was a real con artist, who knew how strange or awful those memories might be. He decided to avoid it.

The Breton seemed to remember something suddenly. “Say, what’s your names?”

“My name is Fayrl,” Fayrl replied with a grin. “And my beautiful wife here is Ma’zurah.” Fayrl turned to the barwoman. “Another brandy for my friend Sam here! It is only right if I pay for the first drink, after all.” The woman poured another glass and Fayrl took his brandy and handed the other to Sam.

“Oh nonono, that won't do at all! If you’re drinking with me, I'm paying!” Sam passed a sizable coinpurse to the barwoman with a flirtatious wink. “We’ll take the bottle!” The woman smiled and passed the bottle over.

Ma'zurah raised her eyebrows. The man was apparently not a mage of little means then.

“Lovely to meet you both!” The Breton turned to the pair brandishing the brandy bottle. “What say we get a table and do this all proper-like?”

Fayrl gave the man a clap on the back. That was the spirit he enjoyed about the drinking culture here in Skyrim, though he had not had such a quality of alcohol in such quantity since before he had been pretending to be a bard in Skyrim for six years. “A man after my own tastes! Let us do as you suggest. Though I wonder what it is you would ask for if by some slim chance you succeed?” His voice was lowered and suggestive as he spoke the question.

Sam held the bottle aloft and led the small party in a procession through the evening crowd to the last free table in the room. He settled into a seat. “Cheers!” he exclaimed, and knocked back his cup of brandy. He refilled it from the bottle with a flourish.

“Cheers!” called Fayrl and followed suit of downing the brandy in one. It burned, but that was what he wanted most right now. He didn't want to think about where he was or when he was. He just wanted to enjoy being.

Ma'zurah took her seat as well, grinning and nursing her bottle of mead. She was already starting to relax a bit, and the Breton seemed like interesting company.

“Now… what to do if you lose? How about a forfeit! Those are always fun! Honestly, I really am just in the mood for a contest, and you’re probably the only ones in the room I'd have any kind of chance against.” The man made an encompassing gesture to the rest of the room full of Nords, all probably a third again the body mass of the short Breton. He had a point, Ma'zurah realized with a smirk.

Fayrl gazed at the bulking collection of Nords. Certainly they did seem a rowdy bunch, and all looked as though they could drink half the keg each as easily as breathe. “I appreciate the sentiment, my friend, I do.” He leaned forward, hand on Sam's shoulder as he drew his face close. “So, what is the condition of defeat? Are we playing Skyrim rules, if you cannot hold any more liquor or you pass out you lose? That might make for a difficult time paying a forfeit.” Catching sight of Sam’s refilled glass, Fayrl held his out as well. “If you would be so kind.”

“Nah! That wouldn't be very fun now would it? We play until someone withdraws.” Sam refilled Fayrl’s cup. “Sound good? Wouldn't want to pass out before we get to the fun parts, right?”

Fayrl smiled. He hooked an arm around each of his companions. “Well, shall we begin then?”

Ma’zurah stood abruptly and downed her bottle of mead. “You know what! Why in the four hells not! Ma’zurah will join too!” She shouldered her way back to the bar and retrieved a glass amidst delighted laughter from the Breton. She returned and held her cup out to be filled.

“Now that is the kind of attitude I like to see!” Sam crowed, and filled the proffered mug. “Bottoms up!” he called and tipped the contents of his own mug into his mouth. Ma’zurah followed suit and finished off her drink with a noisy smack of her lips.

“Whoa!” she slurred tipsily, “That is stronger than Ma’zurah esspected!” She licked her whiskers and peered into her mug with one eye as though she expected to discover what made her drink so strong. “Sweeter too. Not bad!”

Fayrl cheered at Ma’zurah’s announcement to join. “Here, here!” He knocked back his brandy. Then grabbed the brandy to refill everyone’s glass.

“So, I take it you like it then?” Fayrl asked Ma’zurah, leaning his cheek on her shoulder while pulling Sam closer to him as well. “You can see why I prefer it to mead or wine or ale.” He nuzzled her shoulder. “You’re so soft.”

He leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re less soft, my friend. You must need another drink.”

“Again!” called the Breton, and he drained his cup.

Ma’zurah finished her second mug of brandy and blinked at her companions through the fuzzy haze that had started to descend on her mind. She giggled. “Now why would you take brandy over those other shweet drinks you sayed? Ma’zurah steel pr’fers th’mead she had, but she is c’mpeting!” She shoved at Fayrl’s shoulder playfully.

Fayrl looked at Ma’zurah. “Can you not taste the more complex flavor profile? The notes of fruit and sweetness are more subtle, but smooth and crisp, with just a hint of citrus and spices. And the perfume of the spices, how could one resist?”

Sam grinned at Ma’zurah. “Y’know, I think I might have a drink that’s more to yer taste if ya wanna try it. Brewed it m’shelf! Strong and shweet, but not so shweet that even a great Dunmer like Fayrl here wouldn’t like it. Care ta try?” The Breton produced a large flask and removed the stopper, glancing between the two.

Fayrl turned with interest to Sam. “What sort of drink is this? You’re not trying to slip us something to take all our gold, are you, friend?” Fayrl’d had quite about enough of having someone slip things into his drinks. He was not eager to wake up naked in a mine again. Nor have to run through the snow and lose his favorite tunic along the way.

“What, no!” Sam’s expression appeared genuinely horrified. “I’ll take a shot too! I jusht thought y’might like to try it! Here, see?” He hastily filled his mug and drank the whole thing down, slopping a small amount of the liquid onto the table in the process.

Fayrl figured the worst that could be in there was a poison the Breton was immune to. Likely anything in that sort of poison Fayrl would have at least a minimal immunity to as well. He also had several cure poison potions in his bag. He had a couple on him now, just in case.

“Well, since you were so kind as to demonstrate the safety of your homebrew, it would be rude of us not to at least give it a sample, think you not, my dear?” He leaned against Ma’zurah and held out his glass. There was a hint of mischief in his voice. “Sam, you would do me an honor by allowing me to sample your brew.”

Sam filled their mugs and sat back and beamed as they accepted the liquor. “It’sa ver’ old shecret recipe. Y’can’t even get most’ve tha ingredientsh in Shkyrim!”

Ma’zurah sniffed her mug, and withdrew hastily with eyes watering. “Dear gods, that smells shtrong!”

“Probably th’shtrongest shtuff you’ll ever taste! But wait’ll ya taste it!” the man chortled.

Ma’zurah took a hesitant sip. “Oh! Iss shweet!”

“Yeah, but it’s tha aftertaste that’s th’besht. You gotta drink it in one go to get the full effect, shee?”

This whole thing seemed like a trap to Fayrl. A trick. A lie. This Sam fellow was entirely too giving.

And yet, Fayrl was inextricably drawn to it--the sense of danger, even knowing they would likely be unable to win, was thrilling. He had several weapons easy to reach if the man tried anything. Between him and Ma’zurah, they were likely in little danger. Maybe Sam was even as lonely and trying to forget as they were.

Fayrl took a sniff and then brightened. It smelled about as strong as he needed it to be. He knocked back the entire thing in one go. It burned like shalk fire, but as promised, it was sweet, then the aftertaste had something to it that he was not familiar with. He had tried many varieties of alcohol made from different materials, but this was the first time he had come across some of these flavors. And yet, something in the scent was familiar. He just couldn’t quite place it.

“This is delicious. Sweeter than I would normally go for, but such an expert blending that I have nothing but compliments for the flavor. I shall list them if you’d like. If not, just be content in the knowledge that I look forward to putting this masterpiece of yours in my mouth the rest of the evening.”

“You would do me the mosht honor by accepting another drink!” The man clumsily topped off their glasses, and then his own, quaffing his own drink with gusto. “Whoooa!” Sam shook his head as though to shake off the effects of the sudden rush of alcohol. “I think perhapsh I… I may have to consh… concsheede this contesht....” He stared at his flask longingly. “After thish nexsht round!”

Ma’zurah swayed slightly in her seat. “Ooh Shheggorath! Ma’zurah shhould sstop b’fore she throwss up…”

Sam drunkenly waved the flask in Fayrl’s direction. “That shettles it! You shuccesshf’ly take thish shot n’ you win th’shtaff!”

Fayrl snatched up his mug and downed it, slamming it onto the table afterwards, in the Nord fashion. He already had a tingling sensation in his fingertips and his lips. It made him feel good, really good. The stuff was strong, alright, normally he wouldn’t be this far gone for another few rounds. “There,” he proclaimed, listing a bit towards Ma’zurah in his seat. “I done it all.”

His eyelids were very heavy, he couldn’t seem to keep them open all the way. He hoped it made him look alluring more than sleepy. “M’ready for my prize, Sam.” He had to speak very deliberately and a bit slow in order to get the words to come out right. He did not want to appear as though he was as likely to fall over as he was.

And yet, a part of him wanted to stand up on the table and sing a song. He didn’t have his lute, but if he could convince some of the Nords to clap along, he could probably do a popular drinking song. Some of the old favorites from his time would surely still be around. A song like “She hides her tail” or “The cabbage farmer’s daughter” would be perfect for this crowd.

“C’ngratulashionsh m’friend!” Sam babbled, slapping Fayrl on the back. “Ya shhure earned it! What shhould we do now? I got a grate idea! I know thish lil’ plashe we could go, where tha wine flowsh like water!”

Ma’zurah squinted at Sam, suddenly feeling significantly more drunk than she had expected based on the amount of alcohol she had imbibed.

“Shaay, you don’t look sho grate. Are you feelin’ arright?” the Breton asked Ma’zurah.

Ma’zurah slumped against Fayrl, knocking him off balance. The last thing she remembered was waving a hand toward the Breton and drunkenly mumbling something about luggage in their room and feeling sleepy before the world went dark.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

#TES #Elder Scrolls Lore #Skyrim #ESO #Morrowind #My Writing #Fanfic #Lost In Time TES Fanfic #Fayrl Indoril #Ma'zurah the Khajiit #alcohol abuse #Rated T

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