#bjarga

[artsyaech]

guess what this means (level: moderate)

þegar ég var ungur drengur, fór faðir minn með mig í borgina, til að sjá lúðrahljómsveit. hann sagði ,,þegar þú eldist, sonur, munt þú bjarga þeim brotnu, þeim börnu og þeim bölvuðu.” hann sagði ,,myndir þú sigra þá, djöflana, og þá sem ekki trúa, það sem þeir áætluðu?” ,,því einn daginn, gef ég þér draug, til að leiða þig á sumrin, að fara í svörtu skrúðgönguna”

[doctor-desi]

Modern AU Part 2!

This is the second part of the Modern AU I am writing for the campaign going on between @meteorito618 and I. I don't know how many parts it will be, but so far it's going to be at least 3! Enjoy!

As Blaine steps through… whatever it is she steps through, she finds her senses assaulted with tons of new information. The first thing she sees is the group of four that went ahead of her. The half-elf, Darjo, stands prominently with their hands on their hips, smiling widely. Next to them is the halfling, Gwen, who looks amusedly at Blaine. Then there are the two tieflings, yet to be introduced, who stand to the side still looking rather excited. Then there is, well, what Darjo referred to as Bjarga. 

Differing wildly from the abandoned building she was just in, she stands in a fairly modern looking building. There are computers and monitors everywhere with all sorts of information on them ranging from what looks like news, to spreadsheets, to body cam videos. There are people at every one of these monitors ranging vastly in races. And the sound, well considering how quiet it was in the abandoned building, she almost wants to cover her ears with the cacophony of noise she hears now. 

After making her first assessment of this Bjarga, Blaine stumbles forward another step in, asking, “What… exactly is this place? Who are all of you?”

Darjo looks like they want to speak, but Gwen places a hand on their own and gives them a small look before stepping forward, “Well, this is our home base, or one of them at least. This is where we find and assign missions. As for who we are, well…”

She’s cut off by one of the tieflings excitedly running forwards and sticking their hand out over Gwen’s head, “I’m Lados and this here is Anakis,” she points to the other tiefling who had come up beside her, “we’re twins, and super excited to have you with us! Darjo here told us all about the night you came to their rescue,” Darjo makes a sputtering noise and tries to interject, but Lados continues, “ and how you might be good material for Bjarga here. What a surprise when we ran into you, took us a second to realize that you might be you, but we were pretty sure from the description Darjo gave. And now you’re here! Oh, I’m so excited for you to get involved, you’re going to love it!” And she opens her mouth to continue on, but Anakis covers her mouth, looking down at the halfling below them. Gwen looks up at them a bit disapprovingly, but also fond. She gives Anakis an appreciative nod.

Then, she continues on as she was before, “We are a group of citizens, concerned ones about some of the things going on in our world,” she gestures all around her, “We know there are threats out there, and we work to combat those threats the best we can with the knowledge and power we have available to us. There are two main branches of our little operation and we both work in tandem to determine threats and take them out. A threat that we are currently facing is the Gindilian Gang. Not only are they a bunch of troublemakers, but there’s word going around that they have a secret operation underway to bring about some great evil in our world. We are unsure what entirely this entails, but we are trying our best to find out and put a stop to it. But there are some things that we do know,” she pauses at this as a phone starts ringing, Gwen pulls out her phone and sighs at what it displays, “Well, that would be Sindri, he is currently trying to find a way to infiltrate the Gang, I should see what he says. Darjo, could you take over?” she gestures at the half-elf next to her. 

Darjo nods, crossing their arms and watching for a moment as Gwen steps deeper into Bjarga to answer the call. Then, they begin, “Like Gwen said we do know some things, one such thing is that there have been a bunch of attacks. The people who are attacked don’t remember much besides the color purple, and the effects of magic being used on them to lure them into a dreamlike state.”

Blaine perks up at this, “Oh, I’ve heard of those attacks on the news. In fact I’ve been teaching some of my students how to be prepared for one of those same attacks. However, I’ve never heard anything about a gang being involved, how do you know for sure it’s them?”

Darjo frowns a little at that, then looks a little sheepish, “Well, we don’t for sure actually. We suspect that this is part of that whole ‘evil scheme’, " they use their fingers to make quotes, “that they got going on. Some of the Gang have bragged about it when they don’t know one of our members is around, so we have reason to believe it is them.”

Blaine nods at this, then smiles and claps her hands, startling the group of three others, “Well then, what can I do to help?”

Darjo smiles, then laughs, “I just knew you’d be up for it,” they walk forward and clap Blaine on the shoulder, “Well first things first, we have to get you all initiated, and then we can talk plans.”

The next little while is a blur to Blaine. She gets passed around between different people doing different things. She has her photo taken and put into some data archive, her phone gets taken at some point, she’s introduced to so many different people who have all types of professions and roles within the group, and she has to give her information to some of these people. At the end of all of it, she ends up in a small room that connects to the main room with the monitors and computers. This room is devoid of such electronics, and simply has a table with chairs on either side of it. Blaine sits in one of these chairs, now waiting. 

Darjo walks into the room holding several things. They sit down in the chair opposite Blaine and lay the items out on the table. The first of which they slide over to Blaine is her phone. Blaine boots it up and sees there is a new app on her homescreen, it simply reads, ‘Cornucopia of Life’.

Blaine looks up at Darjo with a raised brow, questioning. Darjo simply smiles, “We can’t just give away our positions so simply. That app gives you access to a whole slew of stuff involved with Bjarga. It’ll tell you current missions, maps and other resources, and it’s a group chat messaging system that is encrypted so others can’t access our data.”

Blaine nods along, “Sounds useful. So, do I just pick a mission that is on here, or…” she trails off looking back down to the phone and scrolling on it for a moment. 

Darjo reaches across the table and pushes the phone down a little, “No, no. Not right now at least. We want you for something special.” Blaine’s eyes light up at this, her first day, or well night, and she was already getting a special mission. “We want you, well, to continue as you normally do,” Blaine’s shoulders slump and her face falls slightly in disappointment. Darjo laughs a little, “Hey, chin up. I wasn’t done,” Blaine perks up again, “We want you to be bait. We have some others doing the same, but you already know how to handle yourself. So, for these attacks, we want you to try to be the quote unquote victim of one of them.”

Blaine nods again, “Okay… I suppose that makes sense. So, how do I go about doing this, and what happens if I do get attacked?”

Darjo smiles, “Well, we’ve built in a new system to the app. It’s a sort of deadswitch where you press it when you’re safe and the second you stop pressing it, either willingly or not, it will send us your location and we can come to help out!”

Blaine scrolls through the app a few moments humming to herself at the things she finds, before she finds what she is looking for. It's simply a screen with a cornucopia in the middle of it, but it was named, SWITCH. She holds up the phone so Darjo can see, “This then?”

Darjo nods and smiles, “Yup that’s it. So, to recap, we want you to go about your daily life, except maybe try to hang around a few more alleys, act a bit more… well, vulnerable. Have that app open,” they point to the app still on Blaine’s screen, “press it while you are safe. Make sure to disarm it once you get home or something by pressing this secondary button,” they point to a smaller x in the corner of the screen, “and if you get attacked or feel like you are about to just stop pressing the button and we will be on our way!” They lean back in their chair and spread their arms out, “So, how’s that sound?”

Blaine pulls her phone back towards herself, looking down at the app open and grins, “Sounds like we got ourselves a plan to catch some evildoers then.” She looks back up to Darjo who grins right back, then asks, “Is that it then, should I get going?”

Darjo holds up finger and moves the other things they were holding, a few manilla envelopes which seem to be pretty full. “First,” they begin, “Let’s get you up to date on some of the Gindilian Gang business as well as some of our other information so your not out there running completely blind hm?”

Both of them lean into the table as they begin to go over years of information that Bjarga has collected about different cities, different gangs, and their plans to stop all of the crimes and wrong-doings that they can. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a few hours later when Blaine steps out of the abandoned building. Well, what looks like an abandoned building for sure. By now, the sky is slowly lightening as the sun begins to peak barely above the horizon. Blaine covers her mouth as she yawns, not used to having such late or early hours. She checks her phone, the app for Bjarga now closed, and goes to her calendar app. There she sighs as she sees she indeed does have a class to teach today, but she needs to stop by her apartment to change first. ‘At least it is an early class’ she thinks, ‘that way I can get home and rest sooner’. And with that, she starts heading in the direction of her apartment. 

Another couple of hours later, and caffeinated tea in hand, Blaine steps into the building which houses her studio. There she sees an empty front desk, and a blue lamia unlocking the door to her own shop. Blaine flushes slightly as the lamia turns to give her a wide smile, “Good morning Blaine! You have an early class this morning?”

Blaine gives a bit of a lopsided grin back, “Yeah, yeah. Gotta get that early start y’know? Plus it’s better to have a variety of classes for different people so that they can work either before or after class. Some people have told me they prefer one over the other so I’ve been sure to do a bit of both so that everyone can end up happy! Ahaha, I’m rambling again aren’t I?” Blaine’s smile turns a bit sheepish as she looks away from Glacia. 

Glacia laughs shortly and replies, “Well, I think it’s cute. Have a good class!” Blaine’s neck almost hurts with how fast she turns to look back at the lamia, but Glacia is already headed into her shop. When the door closes behind Glacia, Blaine slumps and sighs, covering her face as a wild blush envelops it. 

Way to go Blaine, she thinks moving towards the door to her studio, fantastic job with that one. She takes the keys out of her bag and opens the studio door, flipping on the lights as she moves further into the space. Directly to the front of her and to towards her left are wall-to-wall glass windows. The wall that the door opens into is layered with bricks, and the wall to her right is wall-to-wall mirrors, so that those in the studio can see their own progress. 

Blaine moves through the process of setting up her studio for one of her sessions. Among those tasks include making sure all the mats have been wiped down and are prepared for her clients to use, checking on the level of the refillable water station, running through a list of which clients will be coming in today and how to adjust the lesson for their needs. 

She does this for about half an hour before she goes to prop open the door for her clients to start coming, and in they do come! Blaine knows most of the faces that enter her door, though a few are new to her. Those include a half-elf man who is dressed in purples and blacks who is accompanied by a large rock creature (she is glad that they adjusted the entryways a while back), and a genasi with fire-red hair… literally. 

Blaine goes through the motions of greeting everyone that she can and introducing herself to the newcomers. Though for most it is not much more than a simple hello and asking a few specific questions based on what she knows about them, she does spend some more time on the newcomers, especially since they all arrived early as she asked. She begins her introductions with the fiery genasi.

“Hello there, welcome in!” Blaine says as she walks up to the genasi who is wringing their hands together and looking around the room. They have secluded themselves into a corner of the room away from the windows, and from everyone else.  

In return to her greeting, Blaine gets a nervous smile and a little wave along with, “Ah h-hello there. Um, you are Blaine correct, I believe we… well we spoke over the phone?” Their voice goes a little higher at the end indicating their question. Blaine nods and gives a comforting smile to which the genasi sighs and drops their hands, “So, you understand then, my um.. situation?”

Blaine slowly reaches out, giving them moments to pull away, when they don’t, she lays her hand gently on their shoulder, “Yes Aldrid, I do. You went through a very traumatic experience. I just want to let you know what you learn here will not erase what you went through, but I do hope it will help prepare you in case anything like it were to happen again which I pray to the gods it won’t.” Blaine gives their shoulder a small squeeze and offers another smile. 

Aldrid gives a shaky smile in return, covering Blaine’s hand with their own, “Y-yes you are right. And, well, nothing can put this fire out!” they give a shaky laugh and their eyes sparkle with a previously lacking mirth. 

Blaine gives a bright smile and pats Aldrid’s shoulder once more, “That is right! Good spirit! Now, if you don’t mind, I have one more introduction to make before starting class.” The genasi gives a short nod and turns to their own bag, likely to prepare for the class. Blaine then turns away and heads towards her other couple of new clients.

“Ah, hello you two,  Ilifir and Igneous, correct? My name is Blaine, welcome into the studio!” She gives a bright smile as she walks up to the half-elf who was addressed as Ilifir and the rock creature addressed as Igneous.

“Yes, yes. Hello to you as well. It’s a pleasure,” Ilifir says, giving a slight nod of his head, Igneous follows suit, nodding his head, but not saying anything. “I hope to learn a lot here, maybe even a reason for my situation.”

Blaine hums, frowning slightly, “Yes, well like I mentioned over the phone, I really think you should see a cleric for that if you wish to find out anything specific, but if it is someone causing it maybe I could help a little. And, well, self defense is always a good thing to learn regardless!” She gives a smile to both of them and says, “Well, unless you have any questions, I think it’s about time to start class.” Ilifir shakes his head and motions for her to move on, Igneous simply stands there, and Blaine assumes with the lack of any words he has no qualms about her moving on either. 

With that, she claps once, and slowly the room falls silent, the regulars knowing that is Blaine’s way of calling attention, and the newcomers following the other’s guide. Blaine walks to the front of the studio as she begins talking, “Good morning everyone! I hope you all have been well. My name is Blaine and today I will be your instructor.” She reaches the front of the room and stops in front of the mirrored wall. She turns around to face the studio, looking out to the streets. 

Blaine smiles for a moment before her face falls into something more serious, “Now, I am sure you have all heard of the tragic events that have been going on lately. People have been found attacked in the city.” She pauses to gauge the effects of her words. Most people’s faces light up in recognition and many frown in empathy, Aldrid goes still and trembles slightly. Blaine chooses to move on quickly once she notices that, “Well, today I hope to teach something that will help lessen any fears you may have. This lesson will have parts which are meant to help both those magically gifted as well as those who are not. Now then,” she claps once more, a more calming smile on her face, as she sees some of the clients start to relax, “Let’s get started.”

And with that, Blaine starts her lesson. First, she teaches her spell for the day, it is a first level spell called Shield. It has both vocal and somatic requirements which she makes sure to tell her clients. She goes through making sure that everyone knows what they are doing with the spell, and even having them practice bringing it up as well as attacking her with a magic missile so they can see how it works. Once she is sure that the clients with magic have had enough practice with the spell, they move onto the non-magical portion of the class. This just teaches normal self-defense moves that anyone can do regardless of skill level. Some people practice old moves with partners they have had in class before, while others follow along with Blaine to learn new moves. It’s not too long before class ends. 

Blaine claps once more, smiling at the front of the studio, “Well done everyone! It seems you all have learned a lot today, and I hope you will go out into the world feeling a bit more confident in yourselves and your skills. With that, I hope you all have a good day, and as always if you have any questions about today’s class you can reach out to me via text or call and I will explain more as best I can. See you all next time!” With that, people start to clean up, they wipe down any equipment they may have used and mingle a little as they drink water and pack up. Blaine talks to as many people as she can, though she notices Aldrid talking adamantly with another client and it appears as if Ilifir and Igneous snuck out when she wasn’t looking. How they did that, she wonders, thinking of how big Igneous was, I am not sure. Slowly but surely, her clients wander out, giving their goodbyes and well to do’s until only Blaine is left. She closes her studio door behind the last client and goes to work cleaning up her studio in preparation for the next class. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours pass and Blaine finds herself again in her office as the night closes in. She had gone to a closeby market place for lunch and had snuck a quick nap in at her office before her evening class, and now she finds herself here going over some of her client’s paperwork as she waits to leave. Finally, an alarm goes off on her phone. Blaine turns it off and stretches in her chair before getting up and grabbing her bag. She makes her way into the studio which has the lights turned off for the night. She checks to make sure everything is in place for the morning before she heads to the door. Blaine closes and locks the door behind her, then heads for the main doors, the lobby is dark already and it seems everyone has gone home for the night. She wishes that were the case for her. 

Blaine steps out of the building into the night. The streetlamps are on, and few people are out and about. She takes a deep breath and pulls out her phone. She opens up the app, ‘Cornucopia of Life’, and presses down on the designated button Darjo had shown her earlier that day, and with that set up she starts to walk.

She is unsure of how long she walks for, up and down various alleyways, across streets. Then, it happens. Blaine is in an unknown alley, coming up towards the brick wall that marks the end. When all of a sudden she hears footsteps coming up behind her. They are quiet, but Blaine has been teaching self defense for a while, and she knows when an attacker is on the move. She moves a couple more steps hoping to get some type of reaction and it seems she does. 

“So, you think you can help, do you?” The voice sounds like someone talking on an old radio, Blaine desperately wants to turn around but she waits, hoping to get more before the inevitable happens. The voice hums, “Well, you weren’t what I was searching for, but for tonight, you will have to do.” At that, Blaine’s eyes widen and she spins around. But the voice was too fast, spitting out a spell that leaves Blaine’s vision growing quickly foggier and darker each second. All she catches before she falls is a sharp smile and a flash of purple.  

[seidkonaz]

ásjá, angan, bjarga

[fyndnarmyndir]

Halló Írak drekka Coke upplýsingar um merki

[garmmy]

realised i never uploaded these here, so just doing it now for posterity’s sake 😂 

i did these two pieces for a suikoden anthology soooome time ago...back in 2015 i think?? the first piece is fu su lu, kuromimi, and gon from suikoden 1, and the second piece is bjarga from suikoden tsumutoki.

[human-antithesis]

Ódn

(I) The sky turns Reveals the other side The black hide The rising Raging fields of blue Live anew Amidst the waterstorm The end will take its form Once again The arms of the sea Embrace me Disturbance This is no warm embrace Amidst the waterstorm The end will take its form Once again I gaze in fear upon the tide I close my eyes in prayer (II) Froysandi, goysandi alda Skalt tú knúsa meg í nátt Ræðsla mín túsundfaldað Skalt tú svølgja far mítt rátt Hálva lívið mítt havi eg livað her Og deyðin hevur hótt meg hvørja ferð Ongin dagur uttan bønarfund Kanst tú bjarga mær í hesi lagnustund Stari inn í deyðans kjaft Froysandi, goysandi alda Skalt tú knúsa meg í nátt Ræðsla mín túsundfaldað Skalt tú svølgja far mítt rátt Hálva lívið mítt havi eg livað her Og deyðin hevur hótt meg hvørja ferð Ongin dagur uttan bønarfund Kanst tú bjarga mær í hesi lagnustund (III) Eg vakni brátt Sveimandi Eyga festir seg at Hvítnaðum kroppi Ruggandi á skorpuni Svinnur, søkkur Eygu fyrr glógvandi, slóknað Seinastu ferð Seinastu ferð

[hatari-translations]

Hatari’s wholesome baking video - cultural context

All right, I’ve been asked to translate a particular interview, but as I started typing out context on that I realized that I really should make a post on this first.

All Hatari fans have probably by now seen this video, Hatari’s postcard from the Söngvakeppnin finals:

In this delightful video, Matthías and Klemens do their cousin handshake in a gym full of children, bake a cake for Klemens’s daughter, and eat it while someone reads out mean comments about them (tiny Iceland: the guy reading the mean comments went to school with me and owes me money). The contrast between the wholesome baking, the dark and edgy nature of Hatari’s act, and the hatemail-reading is hilarious on its own - but did you know that the wholesome baking is also a biting parody of an Icelandic political ad?

In 2016 (wow, has it really been that long?), the Panama Papers were published, and among the people implicated there were Icelandic prime minister Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson and finance minister Bjarni Benediktsson. This was a major scandal, Sigmundur Davíð was eventually (very reluctantly) pushed to resign, and the elections scheduled for 2017 were set for October 2016 instead. In the lead-up to the 2016 election, Bjarni Benediktsson’s Independence Party published this campaign ad, in a very transparent attempt to humanize him and make him seem likeable to counteract the impact of the scandal.

In the campaign ad, Bjarni bakes a cake, while describing his process:

Það er mikill kærleikur í svona köku, það er ekki spurning. Þessi litli frágangur, það er það sem gerir þetta flott. Og það er líka það sem tekur mestan tíma.

Nú er ég að dunda mér við að klára að gera munninn, og svo koma augun. Þau verða úr svona svörtu. Þetta er svolítið klístrað hjá mér. Ég er að reyna að bjarga þessu.

Bara það sem krökkunum finnst spennandi í það og það skiptið. Stundum er það eitthvað sem er í leikhúsinu. Eins og þegar Lína Langsokkur var, þá var það spennandi að fá Línu-köku. Ég fer bara í krakkaheiminn. Svo er eitthvað nýtt næsta ár.

Þóra hjálpaði mér að baka sjálfa kökuna, og svo kem ég og skreyti þetta. Ég er sko ágætlega lunkinn í höndunum. Mér finnst gaman að gera svona fína hluti, þá sjaldan sem ég hef tíma til þess, eins og að hnýta flugur, veiðiflugur, og svona skreyta.

Það sem er skemmtilegast við að gera svona köku er að sjá andlitin á krökkunum, dóttur minni, hvað hún verður hissa og glöð. Það er náttúrulega það sem er skemmtilegast.

The baking portion of Hatari’s postcard video is a direct parody of this ad, to the point where most of their lines concerning the baking are direct or near-direct quotes of Bjarni’s lines in the video; I’ve bolded these lines above. Translated:

There’s a lot of love in a cake like this, no question. These little details, they’re what makes it good. And that’s also what takes the most time.

Now I’m working on finishing the mouth, and then it’s the eyes. They’ll be made of black. It’s a bit sticky. I’m trying to fix it.

Just whatever the kids think is exciting each time. Sometimes it’s something playing at the theater. Like when Pippi Longstocking was on, then getting a Pippi cake was exciting. I just go into the kids’ world. Then it’s something new next year.

Þóra [his wife] helped me bake the cake itself, and then I come along and decorate it. I’m pretty good with my hands. I like making nice things, on the rare occasion I have the time, like making flies, fishing flies, and decorating like this.

The best part of making a cake like this is seeing the faces of the kids, my daughter, and how surprised and happy she is. That’s obviously the best part.

The cake’s obviously also meant to evoke the cake that he was making:

The ad was pretty infamous in Iceland, and most of the Icelandic audience would have instantly recognized the reference in Hatari’s postcard. It’s actually pretty neat how well the postcard works without knowing that it’s a parody of anything! Hatari are good at what they do.

The really fun thing about this is that the reference adds another layer on top of the postcard video: by this point there’d been negative reactions to Hatari as unpleasant, child-unfriendly and even sinister, and like Bjarni, they react to the negativity by making a video transparently trying to portray themselves as wholesome family men who just love to bake elaborate cakes for their children - only theirs, of course, is extremely tongue-in-cheek.

This video is still one of my favorite Hatari things, and I hope now you can all appreciate it on all the same levels that I do!

[jeffreystewart]

Norsery Rhymes from A to Z Bergdis, The Disir Mountain Goddess of Rescue V2

Well here we are another Thor’s Day and another 20 min sketch of a Norse (and Germanic, sometimes Celtic) mythological characters.  This week it’s Berdis / Bergdiss / Bergdyss / Bjargdis.  Meaning (Berg) Mountain Goddess, or (Bjarga) Rescue Goddess.  Dis meaning goddess. Bergdis is also described as a Mountain Jotun (Jotnar/ Giant/ Giantess) Being identified a Disir is usually identified as to mean being of the goddesses of Fate.  Carrying out similar duties collecting souls to those of the Valkr / Valkyrie, though for those not slain in battle.  This didn’t preclude them from having alternate responsibilities and associations. In this case being a Goddess of Rescue.

For this version I went a little more fantastical with the rock patterning and crystal hair.

[simmix1]

Tweeted

Hörmungarástand. Fólkið reynir að bjarga lífi sínu. https://t.co/lC6z8OkSgx

— Sigmundur Halldorsson 💙💛 (@simmix1) Mar 1, 2022

[kubbur]

Boð og bönn.

Mötuneytið er aðeins fyrir íbúa hússins, aðrir gete borið matinn heim í poka. Altaf leiðinlegt að geta ekki borðað matinn í mötuneytunu í félagsskap annarra gesta mötuneytsins. Alt ófrelsi er stressandi. En hvað um það, það hlýtur að vera ástæða fyrir banninu runnin undan rifjum einhvers spekings, sem vill bjarga heiminum.

[doctor-desi]

A new character in the world of Krúos Tallo, Kollet! She was made by @meteorito618 and I think is quite an interesting character! So far she attacked our group, and now she is studying magic in Bjarga with Glacia! I think she’s really neat!

[wandertrixxtarr]

saving

(seiv) verb

1. to rescue or bring out of danger. He saved his friend from drowning; The house was burnt but he saved the pictures. red يُنْقِذ спасявам salvar zachránit retten redde σώζωsalvar, rescatar päästma نجات دادن pelastaa sauver לְהַצִיל बचा लेना spasiti megment menyelamatkan bjarga salvare 救う 구출하다 išgelbėti []glābt menyelamatkan reddenberge, reddeuratować, ocalićژغورل،بچ…

[mnaasilveira]

Viðvörunin

______________________________________________________________ VIÐVÖRUNIN – LÝSING Á SAMVISKUHVERS VEGNA ER VIÐVÖRUNIN AÐ GERAST Að hjálpa til við að bjarga okkur fyrir lokadag dómsins með því að gefa okkur tækifæri til að biðjast fyrirgefningar fyrir syndirnar sem við höfum drýgt. Að þynna út áhrif syndar og illsku í heiminum með umbreytingu. Að koma öllum aftur til Jesú og vegs…

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills

Before the Unexpected Party in Bag End, Thorin Oakenshield travelled north, to a meeting of the Lords of the Seven Clans. Among them sat Dáin, cousin-kin, and Lord of the Iron Hills, the settlement of Thrór’s younger brother.

This is his story.

Staring at his cousin – Thorin had always been a master of speeches; a skill Dáin had often envied – Dáin already knew what the rest of the Lords’ Council would say to the King of Durin’s Folk in Exile.

“The plan is ludicrous!” King Hargo – King in name, mostly, the Stonefoots were a small clan and he would defer to King Ranvé, who held the true power over the Orocarni from her seat in Red Peak – exclaimed. Dáin had to agree, though he kept his silence, seeing what it cost his cousin to do the same. Why had Thorin not spoken to him before this meeting? At least, he would not have been so blindsided by the sudden proposal.

“Reclaiming Erebor would take an army larger than the one any of us could muster alone,” King Ranvé said, as always calm in the storm of the tempers around her.

“Which is why I wish to call all of you to our cause,” Thorin replied, “the Wizard, Tharkûn, has urged me to march on Erebor, and the portents read for the venture agree that it is time.” Several dwarrow scoffed at that, and even Dáin had to agree that the art of reading portents – apparently cousin Óin had the skill – was a diffuse and inaccurate science at best. Cracking a stone to tell the future had never seemed wholly sane to him, but then again, when last he met cousin Óin, he had not struck Dáin as being wholly sane. Brilliant, mind, in his field, but one did not need to be entirely sane to be a gifted healer. As always, the thought of healers made him think of his beloved Thorunn, and he missed a few heated arguments thinking about her smile, the way she would stroke her belly when the pebble moved. He ruthlessly forced his attention back to the goings-on around him, before the gently smiling dwarrowdam in his head could be replaced with the pale and bloodless corpse she had become mere hours after little Thorin’s birth.

“How do you propose to slay the beast?” Lord Jarrin– a Broadbeam from the northern parts of Ered Luin, Dáin remembered, and technically their host – asked snidely. “What weapons do you now possess that you did not have in the glory days of Erebor, which – need I remind you – did you little good then?” Dáin felt his own temper flare at the remark.

“I suppose a wizard would help, Lord Jarrin, as would knowing what enemy you mean to fight,” he replied, before Cousin Thorin had even opened his mouth. “After all, the armies of Erebor had no time to prepare, and still their sacrifice allowed so many to flee the dread wyrm.” Lord Jarrin looked fit to protest, but Dáin found unexpected support from the gentle tones – hiding a core of mithril, he knew from experience – of King Ranvé.

“My Lord Dáin is correct, Lord Jarrin, and – as I have – so you must have heard tell that the invasion of Erebor took place in a very short window of time.” She said, her rebuke soft, but nonetheless stinging. “I would wager – again, based on the stories I have heard – that the warriors fighting had no more than their everyday weapons and armour; and – at least in my Realm – guards do not commonly wear the armour suitable for an army of warfare.”

“I saw it only from afar, coming home from a hunting trip, King Ranvé,” Thorin replied lightly, “but no, I do not believe Smaug spent more than an hour subduing my grandfather’s warriors and slaughtering our people before he had gained the Mountain – and the Arkenstone.” Dáin’s heart bled for those lost, even as he stared at his cousin in horrified sympathy. No matter how many times – or with how much detail – he heard the tale of the coming of Smaug, he would never experience less than profound dread at the thought of seeing the wyrm in person. And yet, his cousin, a green lad of only 24 winters, had gone back into the Mountain, trying to find his family, to get as many people out as possible. Dáin did not think he could have been that brave. He was called brave, of course, for his actions in Azanulbizar, for killing the mighty Azog, but Dáin knew better. That had not been bravery; that had been incandescent rage at the death of his kin, his father, combined with more pain than he had ever experienced before resulting in a need for everything to just end. He didn’t even remember striking the killing blow, though he remembered the glow of flames from within the Gates terrifying him more than ever before. He shuddered. His had been the voice that stopped King Thraín from entering ancient Khazad-dûm, his words had swayed the Lords and commanders from pursuing the fleeing orcs… and he still wondered if his cousins held a grudge for it.

“The matter must be put to a vote,” Princess Isavænn proposed. Dáin had been surprised to see her accompanying her amad, but the white-haired Heir to Red Peak had proven to be a keen conversationalist; his discussions with her during dinner the night before had led him to consider opening trade of iron to those further away than Red Peak, using the Orocarni merchants as middlemen for selling his people’s wares to the Men of the far south. King Ranvé nodded.

“As always, the vote must be unanimous, if King Thorin is to call any armies,” Lord Hargo added, and Dáin already knew what his vote would be.

“I recuse myself from this decision,” Dáin said, “as King Thorin is also my King. I will abide by the will of the Council.” Thorin mastered his face quickly, but Dáin saw the grimace that flashed across his face. Once more, he wished Thorin had broached this subject before making it the final topic of the talks; there was no way Dáin could stand behind him like this, and Thorin had to know it. Dáin would not risk his people against a dragon, not even for all the wealth in Erebor.

 The outcome was just as Dáin had expected: a resounding no. Some – like King Ranvé, whose throne had once been attempted usurped by her own grandmother and uncle – were sympathetic to Thorin’s plight, while others, like Jarrin, were almost gleeful at the thought of denying his plea. Privately, Dáin felt certain that Thorin had expected this very outcome when he pitched his proposal, but he could see that the rejection still stung. Dáin understood; he did not wish to send his people off to a battle he was certain they could not win, no matter what portents that old coot Óin claimed to have read.

“I would have you stand by your oaths-“ Thorin began, but he was interrupted by the shrill voice of Lady Bjarga, the Firebeard representative; Thorin might be High King of Durin’s Folk, which comprised the Longbeards along with most of the Firebeard and Broadbeam descendants of those who had fled the Breaking of the Blue Mountains, but some families had not fled their ancient homes, and Bjarga and Jarrin were the leaders of the communities left in the northern range of Ered Luin.

“Those oaths were sworn to the holder of the Arkenstone!” she cried, to general nodding. Dáin scowled at her, but she was too pleased to be getting one over on Thorin – some grudges could be kept so long that they became part of a people, Dáin thought – whom she had always resented; a grudge harking back millennia, and truthfully aimed at those the left-behind Firebeards and Broadbeams felt had abandoned them, rather than the Line of Durin which had offered them shelter and accepted them under the rule of the Mithril Throne.

“Lady Bjarga has a point,” King Ranvé replied mildly, her dark eyes glittering with what Dáin would have sworn was amusement. “A caveat, then, King Thorin.” The corners of her eyes were crinkling as the golden clasps in her blue beard revealed her smile by moving slightly, “If you do manage to obtain the Arkenstone, you may call upon the armies of the Seven Fathers… and we will answer.” Her pronouncement had the expected effect of starting a loud argument, but Dáin felt a smidgen of hope. Thorin’s face gave nothing away, but Dáin had often imagined being in his older cousin’s boots, and his heart broke for the stoic Dwarf before them.

“I thank you for your time.” Thorin bowed and left quickly.

Thorin bowed stiffly, taking his leave in the confusion. Dáin followed. Even though King Ranvé – her status as the ruler of the richest Kingdom of the Dwarrow afforded her a fair amount of excess influence – had pronounced that they would honour their old oaths, Dáin felt sure as mithril that possession of the Arkenstone would do about as well as a glass hammer in a forge at persuading the leaders of the other Dwarven Clans to stand behind Thorin and aid him in routing the dragon. Privately, he felt equally sure that his stubborn arse of a cousin was perfectly aware of that little fact – as was King Ranvé, but perhaps she had a plan for such an eventuality; Dáin wouldn’t put it past her shrewd mind – and Thorin was probably equally aware that the actions of his predecessors had – if not everything – then probably a lot to do with the Council’s refusal. The endorsement of a wizard meant little to leaders who remembered the lamenting after Azanulbizar, the culmination of seven years of warfare that had truthfully caused them nothing but losses. At the time, they had all agreed that Thrór ought to be avenged; after all, they were Dwarrow and their tempers ran hot and fierce. At the time, bringing death to the orcs who had slain the King of Durin’s Folk had been a matter of pride to all Dwarrow. Thrór had been a symbol, a symbol of a time when Erebor was still theirs, and in the wake of the tragedy that was Smaug, the race had felt keen sympathy with the once-mighty Dwarf. Some had remembered Thrór’s father, Dáin’s death, and although dragons had plagued their race ever since the awakening of the Seven Fathers, the abandonment of the Grey Mountains still rankled. Grandfather would have gone to war with them, Dáin was sure, if he’d been well enough, but his lung-sickness made travel in winter impossible; instead, the command of their forces had fallen to his adad, who had died, and grandma Katla, who had refused to let him go off to war alone.

“Thorin!” Dáin shouted, running after the dark-haired cousin who seemed intent on walking all the way back to Thorinuldûm tonight. “Thorin, wait!”

“What do you want, cousin?” Thorin almost spat the word, making Dáin wince. He was sympathetic, but he could feel the flames licking at the edge of his temper. His refusal in Council did not mean that he did not wish to see Erebor reclaimed, to see once more Durin’s Line stand proud in its halls, nor that he begrudged his cousin the dream of sitting on the Raven Throne.

“You are determined to do this, cousin?” he asked quietly, catching hold of Thorin’s blue-clad arm, trying to keep a lid on both their tempers. Thorin simply nodded.

“It is time, Dáin. I have to at least try. Our people are dying in Ered Luin, dying by inches every year. I must do something.” Dáin knew it was true; the broken mountains were no fit home for good Dwarrow, and the mines were nearly exhausted. He knew better than to offer aid, however, knowing that his cousins were too proud to accept what they considered pity. “Even if I must kill the Dragon myself, it would be worth it to see my people’s children with the round cheeks they ought to have.”

“Then I wish you luck, cousin.” Dáin said, squeezing Thorin’s arm. “If you make it, send word to me. My army will keep your mountain safe until they can arrive. I daresay you may find yourself with a population increase if you manage to regain Erebor.” Even though a great part of the diaspora had been forced to wander the wilds of Dunland and seek work in towns of Men before Thorin had managed to settle them in the Blue Mountains, many had joined his own population, too. He knew that if he sent out the call that the time to return to Erebor was nigh, a mass exodus would happen in the Iron Hills, and he could not send that many to their doom. Better to wait than to offer false hope to those still yearning for the green stone of Erebor, he thought. Thorin chuckled, and Dáin considered it a small measure of forgiveness; his words had not been meant as a jest, and Thorin wouldn’t consider them so, either.

“It is home, Dáin,” he murmured, “and not just for me.” Dáin nodded. He might not understand entirely – he had never even seen Erebor, but the longing in his cousin’s voice was unmistakable. Dáin sighed. Stealing a stone from a dragon seemed impossible with an army, but protecting a mountain from looters and the like until the rest of their kin arrived was not only his prerogative, it was his duty. His own father, Náin, as well as grandfather Grór had told him stories of Erebor’s splendour, and Dáin had always wanted to see it for himself, even if he could not imagine leaving his home to live there. The Iron Hills were more than enough to keep him busy, and his people were happy. Of course, more beautiful crafts could have been made with the gems and the metals mined in Erebor, but on the whole, living in land that would pretty much only produce iron ore was hardly a detriment to the creative urges of their race. His people boasted the best weapon and armour smiths, the best metal sculptors, and what their base material lacked in value and delicacy, it more than made up for in durability.

“Just… try not to die, will ya?” Dáin clasped Thorin’s arm, and when his cousin finally looked up, the fire that burned deep in his eyes seared itself into Dáin’s heart. Thorin’s blue eyes, so alike his own, burned with the fire of almost divine purpose. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, ye mad bastard.” Dáin could not help but feel hopeful, against all odds. Thorin had always been more than a little reckless. “Go get that Mountain, cousin. Mahal tadnani astû, sanzigil tamkhihi astû.[1]” Thorin nodded, returning the strong grip.

“I will, cousin. I will even invite you to my coronation!” Thorin laughed, before setting off once more. Dáin looked after him, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“Mad bastard,” he muttered to himself, before turning on his heel, hurrying towards where his party was housed.

 When the young Dwarf caught up with Thorin Oakenshield, he could hardly speak for awe of being in the company of such a hero, but he managed to deliver the parcel and letter he carried, staring at Thorin as he read it.

 Cousin,

I know there is little time before you set off, and less provisions you would accept for your journey, but I cannot see you off to such danger without offering at least a little protection. I meant it as a Name-Day present, but you may as well receive it now.

Congratulations(early) on becoming another year older, and give my best to the lads when you see them, as well as my cousins.

Again, I implore you, when you reach the mountain, send me word and I WILL come.

 Your cousin,

Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills.

 Thorin frowned, opening the cloth-wrapped parcel. The scales glinted in the low sun-light, each made from the best quality steel the Iron Hills could boast, and crafted by a master armourer. Thorin smiled. Slipping out of his coat, he pulled his old mail over his head, and let the new gift take its place, marvelling at the perfect fit.

“Tell Dáin thank you,” he said, when the young Dwarf held out his sur-coat for him. “Tell him to keep an eye on the horizon.”

“Yes, Thorin Uzbad,” the youngling stammered, bowing nervously, holding Thorin’s old mail as though it was a precious treasure. Thorin swung himself back onto Beryl’s saddle, a light smile playing around his lips.

“Go on, now, lad,” he murmured, waving the young squire off with as much kindness as he could muster.

  When he was handed the old shirt of mail – it had been kept in as pristine a condition as Thorin could manage, his Craft-Spark would never have allowed otherwise, even if his life had not been depending on it through many travels – Dáin smiled, sending a quick prayer to the Maker and the Stone Mother that his cousins would find safety on the roads they chose.

 When he returned home, he gave orders to have a dwarf stationed looking west, towards Erebor, and began the tremendous task of making at least his personal gangbuh[2] ready to march with little advance notice; though he tried to keep Thorin’s Quest secret, knowledge slowly trickled through the ‘Hills, and a sense of almost-incredulous hope spread among those members of Durin’s Folk who still remembered the gentle voice of the Lonely Mountain.

 [1] Mahal guide you and mithril find you. (Good Luck)

[2] gangbuh (”march-company”) - regiment - a force consisting of 10     maznakkâ (= 490 dwarrow), plus ten officers.

@life-is-righteous @pandepirateprincess

[undri72]

Ofurhetjur hafa verið mér hugleiknar undanfarið. Kannski vegna þess að þrek mitt og þróttur hefur verið með minnsta móti undanfarin misseri. Ég þarf að treysta á aðra að bera mig uppi. Sumir geta einbeitt sér að því að bjarga heiminum. Aldan mín sér um að halda saman veröldinni minni. Vinnur fyrir heimilinu og sér um börnin okkar og heimilið og ber mig svo ofan á allt annað á örmum sér og umvefur ást og umhyggju. Ég er giftur ofurhetju. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw4GDa1Atgm/?igshid=1uv4smi749pby