#by people who had lived near the tall pointy mountains all their lives and yet never once thought to ask: what is that?

[thesecondface]

Islands of Abandonment - Cal Flyn

Recently read this book on the near miraculous proliferation of life and biodiversity in post-human landscapes, and what a fantastic book it was. This was very much in the vein of Macfarlane's Underland (both being prone to wax poetic on unconventional landscapes) but more, somehow. I'm not sure I can articulate it well – perhaps it was the choice in the unconventional landscape which predisposes the reader to its inherited stakes, or lack thereof; or perhaps it was the direct, clear cut message this book had, that Underland maybe lacked in – but this felt infinitely more personal. I enjoyed Underland; I enjoyed Macfarlane's writing and his infectious awe with the landscapes around him – I thought he painted a beautiful, unsettling picture of the underworld, but it was his awe at the end of the day and not my own. Flyn, however, tells you exactly what she argues for in her book, and I'll be damned if I wasn't sold right there and then:

The idea that 'knowledge deepens with appreciation' and that aestheticism can be taught is so extremely crucial. You have to fall in love with your environment to understand it. You have to understand it in order to save it (if, indeed, it needs saving of the human kind). And this gold mine of a book takes these forgotten, unpleasant landscapes and makes you love them – practicing precisely what it preaches.

(Perhaps this struck so deeply because I was so sheltered a city kid who then went on to geologise, and went on to find out just how much you can learn from simple observation and the scientific process. How little I knew before, how little I still know – how little everyone else knows, and how difficult a task it is to invoke any response besides the unabiding blankness that is the death-knell to all educators – to apply the term liberally. It's something that I quite desperately want to cultivate, this awareness of the environment around me; I want to train myself to love the things that previously held neither appeal nor interest to me, because not so long ago I was that blank and disconnected. It's why iNaturalist was such a revelation to me. This book was another, I think).

[heyitsjustmoi]

First in Bag End

The path had led him through the green, rolling hills of the Shire, with its freshly tilled earth, gardens teeming with life, and flower boxes brimming from windowsills. He took it all in, but found it difficult to describe the peace and tranquility of this land—an unfamiliar feeling for one who had seen much strife.

He had never heard of the Shire, not by name nor by reputation, and upon his arrival, the lush landscape overwhelmed him. It was unexpected, this calm, this peacefulness—a far cry from the dark and sorrowful halls of the Blue Mountains.

A small, elderly hobbit, burdened by a sack of rice, stumbled near him. Thorin reached out instinctively, steadying the sack with ease.

"Thank ye, laddie!" the hobbit exclaimed, his weathered face lighting up with gratitude.

Thorin held the sack a moment longer. "Where shall I take this for you?" His voice held a quiet uncertainty, for his garb and stature drew the eyes of curious onlookers. He was an outsider here, and the gaze of the Shirefolk upon him felt both curious and judgmental.

"Oh, there's no need, none at all! I can manage from here," the old hobbit replied, tipping his hat in thanks before reclaiming the sack with a slight bow.

With a sigh, Thorin breathed in the fresh air. Gandalf said I would know Bag End when I saw it, he mused, his eyes drifting to the peculiar homes of the hobbits—each one built under the hills, their round doors set like jewels in the earth. It amused him to think of the dirt that must settle within, though the people themselves appeared anything but unkempt.

One door in particular caught his attention: a perfectly round green door with a brass knob set squarely in its center. He paused momentarily before moving on, continuing his search through the village. His feet carried him toward the market, where laughter and lighthearted chatter filled the air. The spirits of the Shirefolk were infectious, and Thorin felt a flicker of something he had long since buried—hope.

Amidst the market's bustling energy, a voice caught his ear. "Now, I don't suppose you've seen a Wizard lurking about?" The voice was that of a finely dressed hobbit, polished and perhaps a touch arrogant in his manner.

"A tall fellow? Long, gray beard? Pointy hat?" the farmer replied, shaking his head. "Can't say I have."

Before the conversation could unfold further, the hobbit rushed off, leaving Thorin to ponder. A Wizard… Could this be the one Gandalf mentioned? He followed the hobbit at a distance, careful to remain unnoticed, for he had no desire to make a poor impression on the fourteenth member of their company.

Soon, Thorin found himself standing before the same round green door he had passed earlier. As he examined it closely, he noticed a symbol etched discreetly upon its surface. He nearly groaned aloud—he had walked right by the very place he sought. So much for my directional sense.

He watched as the hobbit entered the house, and Thorin, unsure of his next move, sat quietly on a small bench nearby. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe in the stillness, the tranquility of this place. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—could he one day live in such peace? Perhaps, when Erebor was reclaimed and his crown secured, he might retire to a small home here, far from the weight of the throne. The idea brought a rare smile to his face.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Shire, Thorin rose and approached the door. He knocked firmly, and after a moment, it creaked open to reveal a hobbit, staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Uh—who—"

"Thorin Oakenshield," he introduced himself with a small nod. "And you must be the hobbit."

The hobbit blinked in confusion. "Hobbit? Well, yes, I am indeed a hobbit, but... do we know each other?"

"Not yet," Thorin replied with a faint smirk. "You haven’t given me your name."

"Ah, yes! Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit replied, offering his hand hesitantly. Thorin took it, his grip firm.

"Now we know each other," Thorin said. "May I come in?"

Bilbo stepped aside, still clearly flustered. "Well, I suppose so, though I must apologize—I’m not expecting any visitors, and my dinner preparations—"

Thorin stepped inside, shedding his cloak and handing it to Bilbo. The hobbit took it, unsure of where to place it, before hanging it on a nearby peg. Thorin surveyed the hobbit-hole, his first impression upended. Despite being under a hill, the walls were not earthy, but lined with polished wood, the air warm and inviting. It felt... homely.

"You have a fine home, Master Baggins," Thorin said, genuinely pleased.

Bilbo, still a bit taken aback, smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Where’s your kitchen? I might lend a hand."

Bilbo hurried after him, protesting. "No, no, you’re a guest—uninvited, perhaps, but still a guest!"

Thorin ignored the remark, already inspecting the small kitchen. "You’ll want to prepare more than this, Master Baggins. There will be more guests later this night."

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up, his voice rising in pitch. “More guests? Who—? Wait! Wait! That’s the pantry!”

Thorin, undeterred, had already begun rummaging through the pantry, pulling out supplies with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to hard work. “Bombur alone could devour half this larder, so you might want to prepare more than this block of cheese.” He placed items on the table. “I’m no master chef, but I can manage slicing and dicing.”

Bilbo stood frozen for a moment, mouth agape, before throwing his hands up in resignation. “Fine! Fine! I suppose you're right.” With a deep breath, he took charge of his kitchen once more, pointing Thorin toward a cutting board and handing him a knife. “Slice these vegetables—thinly, mind you—and mind the pots while I prepare the bread.”

Thorin obeyed, a rare smile playing at the edges of his lips. There was something oddly pleasant about the hobbit’s kitchen, about Bilbo himself, in fact. For the first time in years, Thorin felt the weight on his shoulders lift, if only for a fleeting moment. He worked with surprising ease, the rhythm of the kitchen a welcome distraction from darker thoughts of dragons and distant mountains.

As they worked, Bilbo’s flustered chatter filled the room, though Thorin found it rather amusing.

“What is this even about?” Bilbo finally asked, stirring one of the simmering pots. “I’m preparing a meal for a gathering I know nothing of, and for strangers, no less! Forgive me, but I barely know you, Mister Oakenshield!”

Thorin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I take it Gandalf neglected to inform you.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo exclaimed, nearly spilling the soup. “That old wizard! He did say something about an ‘adventure’ this morning, which I very clearly declined.”

“Declined?” Thorin’s brow arched in surprise.

“Yes, declined! I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree has much use for adventures. Certainly not me! Do I look like the sort to go gallivanting off into danger?”

Thorin looked him over appraisingly, eyes twinkling with mirth. “No, if I’m being honest, you look more like a grocer.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Bilbo muttered, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t look like a grocer! I could be an adventurer if I wished. Did you know that my great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?”

“Is that so?” Thorin indulged him.

“Yes! In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks, swinging his club with such might that he knocked the Goblin-king’s head clean off! It sailed a hundred yards and landed down a rabbit hole, and thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time!”

Bilbo’s pride in the tale was evident, and Thorin couldn’t help but smile, amused by the hobbit’s sudden enthusiasm for adventure—despite his earlier protests.

“Here, taste this,” Bilbo said, interrupting Thorin’s thoughts as he offered a spoonful of the soup.

Thorin leaned in, tasting the broth, and hummed appreciatively. “That is fine soup, Master Baggins.”

“Family recipe,” Bilbo said, clearly pleased with himself.

As the preparations continued, Bilbo busied himself with more tales, and Thorin, to his own surprise, found that he enjoyed listening. It was peaceful, listening to the hobbit’s stories of a life so far removed from his own. Here in this little kitchen, with the warmth of the fire and the simple task of preparing a meal, Thorin felt a rare contentment.

At last, when the table was set and the food prepared, Thorin turned to Bilbo, his tone more serious. “Master Baggins,” he began, startling the hobbit from his task, “I would tell you my story now.”

Bilbo blinked, then nodded, taking a seat as Thorin gestured for him to do so. Thorin sat opposite him, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the room.

With a deep breath, Thorin recounted the tale of Erebor—of the dragon Smaug, of the desolation wrought upon his people, and of the long, bitter years spent in exile. As he spoke, he watched Bilbo’s face change, amusement giving way to concern, and finally, fear. He couldn’t fault the hobbit for his reaction; it was a story filled with loss and peril.

“I cannot guarantee your safety,” Thorin admitted solemnly, his voice low. “Nor will I be responsible for your fate. But if you are to be what Gandalf believes you can be, we will need your help to reclaim what was stolen from us—our home.”

For a long moment, Bilbo was silent, his small frame hunched under an invisible weight. Thorin could almost see the thoughts turning in his head, the quiet struggle within him. Though they had only just met, Thorin found himself liking the hobbit. He was unsure yet whether he could trust him fully, but if they had met under different circumstances, Thorin thought he might have enjoyed getting to know Bilbo better. Perhaps, in time, they could even have been friends.

“I—I don’t know,” Bilbo stammered at last, his voice shaky. “I’ve never left this place, not once.”

Thorin nodded, thoughtful. He understood the appeal of the Shire, its charm, its tranquility. He even envied it. For all his efforts to make the Blue Mountains his home, they had never truly felt like one. And though Erebor was his birthright, the truth was he no longer knew if it would ever feel like home again.

“At least hear the others out when they arrive,” Thorin said, offering a small smile. “I will not hold you to anything if you choose to decline.”

When Bilbo remained silent, Thorin found himself continuing, his voice tinged with a longing he didn’t quite understand. "But in other circumstances, Master Baggins, I would love nothing more than to sit here, share a cup of tea, and listen to your tales for hours on end.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the doorbell rang. Both hobbit and dwarf turned to the door.

“They’re here,” Thorin said, standing from the table. He crossed the room and opened the door to greet his company, his expression turning more serious.

As the others filed in, filling the quiet of the place with noise and movement, Thorin found himself wishing for a little more time—just a bit longer with Bilbo, in the peace of his home. But the road ahead called him, with all its dangers and responsibilities. Such peace, he knew, was too much to hope for.

---

So this was inspired by my own musing. Once I have more ideas, I'll probably turn this one into multiple chapters. But for now, I hope you enjoyed this one! ---

Now posted in ao3 as well! xoxo

[the-jade-cross]

Over the Mountains - Chapter 1

My name is Persephone Anatello. My first name is pronounced (p-ur-s-eh-f-oh-n-ee) and my last name is pronounced (Anne-uh-tell-oh).

I an 99 years old but I only look like I could be twenty or so. I have deep brown hair and leaf green eyes. I was born alongside by twin brother, Prometa (Pro-m-eh-t-ah) but he died during a war. My mother was a halfbreed: half dwarf half elf. Her mother was an elf and her father was a dwarf. My father...was also halfbreed: half skin changer (on his mother's side) and half wizard (on his father's side). In that case, I'm not a half breed but more like a quarter breed. I am part elf, dwarf, skin changer and wizard!

With all of these heritages, I have many powers. From my mother's side I have developed mostly my style of fighting and my features. I am petite like a dwarf, but not as short as a hobbit, standing about four feet tall at most. That is taller than most hobbits luckily. I don't possess the dwarves's rugged figure but rather the slender, graceful and delicate body of an elf, including the ears but they aren't as pointed as most elves, but they're pointy none the less.

I have no beard (THANK THE HEAVENS!) but my dark hair (according to my parents) came from the dwarf side. It's thick and hardy like a dwarves but soft and silky like an elf's. I have developed the strength, endurance and stubbornness of the dwarves but the agility, gracefulness, patience and good manners as well as fighting style from the elves.

My fighting style is a mixture of all my ancestors so most people think I am a completely rare race myself. Most people call me A Whisperer but before my brother died, he named our 'race' Faerie.

The traits that I have inherited from my father is my ability to transform into a wolf. My father's ancestor was a fox skin changer but I turned out to be a wolf skin changer. most people don't believe it because I don't look like most skin changers when I am in human form. I can fool anyone. I'm not as tall nor aggressive and am actually very kind and a good companion when in wolf form. I can transform whenever I wish but sometimes I cannot help it especially if I'm upset, scared or angry.

From my wizard heritage, I have developed the ability to use some magic. I can conjure fire, water, light as well as a levitating spell but sometimes they don't work especially if something is on my mind, I'm wounded or upset.

As far as features go besides my hair, my parents told me that my green eyes came from my skin changer side for they are the rarest green color ever.

However, they match my rich brown hair perfectly, setting off the copper colors in my hair. Of course however, my hair and eyes change color whenever I am going through transformation from human to wolf, or when I am using my wizard magic. During that time, my eyes turn violet and my hair takes on several shades of purple and pink.This soon developed into the wizards referring to me as the Purple Wizard or the Wizard of the Milky Way.

Having all these talents soon proved my downfall for no dwarves or humans would let me near them. My elven people of Rivendell took me in shortly after my brother was killed in battle and I stayed with them for a good part of my life. After that I went and lived with Gandalf the Gray for a time as well as Radagast on and off. I never lived with men or dwarves but I ran into them occasionally. In terms of skin changers, they were all wiped out before I was born so I never found any of my skin changer people.

By the time I turned 80, I ran away from other people but kept in touch with the elves and wizards. I lived on my own in the wilderness, wandering around and exploring. Before long I knew almost every single corner of the world. I worked as a spy for the wizards and elves and made many friends especially with Arwen, Elrond and Galadrial.

It wasn't until I was 99 that I received a visit from the Wizard. Gandalf had a mission for me.... but that meant I would have to come out of hiding. Well, better late than never.

********

"So listen here Sepha," the wizard said, using Persephone's nickname. "I'll be going in with the dwarves. I want you to wait until all the dwarves arrive."

"How will I know when they're all here?" Persephone whispered.

The two were hiding in the bushes of the garden, watching the dwarves who were one by one approaching the hobbit hole.

"I'll let you know when I want you to come in," Gandalf whispered. "How about that?"

Sepha nodded and sat back in the bushes, "I'll just stay here then."

Gandalf nodded and got up, brushing himself off and heading to the door just as a group of dwarves arrived.

Sepha drew out her two swords and began to run her fingers over the elvish runes.

The swords she had fashioned herself but in memory of her mother, she had etched in elvish designs to the blade, as well as styling the sword to look ancient elvish. However, on the other side of the sword that most people didn't see, she had etched dwarfish designs.

After a while she set the sword back onto the hilts on her back. She messed with the iron wrist brace that she wore on her left wrist. After her brother died, she had decided to hold her race with pride. People always tried guessing which race she was so she decided to make Faerie's official even though there had only been two.... and only one was still alive. She had fashioned a large metal bracelet type thing that came from below her elbow to her wrist, hugging her arms snugly. Two strips of thin metal ran around her middle finger, connecting the brace.

Etched deep into the brace were designs that she had designed herself, making them 'Faerie' designs. most of them were shaped like skin changers with a mixture of dwarf and elf designs intertwined as well as magical designs for their wizard culture. On the underneath where no one but she could see, she etched in her family tree in Khuzdul and around the tree was a wolf, a swirl of magic, a dwarf axe, an elvish arrow and at the top, her brother's name in elvish.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard a knocking beside her. Turning, she saw Gandalf looking at her through a window, winking at her. Time to go inside.

Standing up, she pulled her hood on and pulled her mask over her face, only letting her green eyes show. She put her swords onto her back and put her left hand under her cloak. She didn't want to flash her Faerie band just yet.

She knocked firmly on the door and it was answered by a little man whom she guessed was Bilbo. he was shorter than her and looked slightly shocked.

"GAAAAANNNNDDAAAALLLLFFFF?????" Bilbo called, looking at the girl uncertainly.

Gandalf arrived within seconds and smiled at Persephone, "Ah there you are my dear. Come on in."

Sepha stepped inside and soon saw that she was the last person to arrive. There was a host of dwarves standing in the kitchen doorway, all of them crowding to see who had arrived. She glanced over them quickly and caught sight of two young dwarves who looked about her age, both staring in awe. The tallest dwarf was bald and had his arms crossed, considering the girl thoughtfully. However, the dwarf who was obviously a leader had his eyebrows down.

"Who is this Gandalf?" a young dwarf asked quietly.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet the fifteenth member of the company: Persephone Anatello." Gandalf said. "Persephone, I would like you to meet THorin Oakenshield."

The leader stepped forward and looked slightly down at the girl. Persephone considered him from beneath her hood, not letting him even see the color of her eyes. He was strikingly handsome with ebony black hair, the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen and firm features.

"We are not taking a woman with us Gandalf," Thorin snapped.

Persephone rolled her eyes which at once caught the attention of FIli and Kili.

"Uncle, we don't even know anything about her. She might be a really good fighter." Kili suggested.

THorin snorted, "She wont even show her face."

Sighing, Persephone reached up and pulled her hood back, letting her brown hair down and revealing her bright green eyes. Everyone was taken aback by her beautiful eyes but they weren't prepared when she pulled her mask down.

Fili took a step back in shock and Kili's jaw dropped open.

"By my beard," Bofur whispered to Nori, "She's a bonnie lass!"

An old dwarf, Balin, stepped forward and considered the girl, "How old are you lass?"

Sepha smiled, knowing that they all probably thought she was a human, "99 sir."

Balin's eyebrows shot up and Sepha saw Thorin's eyes widen in surprise.

"I am part dwarf," she explained. "That's why I'm short."

Fili snickered when Kili frowned, not liking the idea of being called short.

"What about fighting?" Dwalin inquired, towering over the girl.

Sepha looked up at the huge intimidating dwarf with no fear in her eyes. This surprised everyone for Dwalin was rather frightening. She smiled. "Swords."

Dwalin looked at THorin in time to see a faint smile lick across the dwarf's face. Thorin was especially fond of the sword, even over an axe. That was a good first impression on Sepha's part.

"I like her," Fili chirped while Kili still gawked.

Balin nodded, "I think she would be a good asset to the team."

"Sepha is also a trained healer," Gandalf pointed out. "She is also extremely talented in navigation and tracking."

"I'm in," Dwalin remarked.

All eyes turned to Dwalin in surprise. He was considering the girl with a firm look but a smile on his face. He was nodding slowly.

"Never judge a book by it's cover. Let's give her a try."

All eyes turned to Thorin who was pinching the bridge of his nose. He obviously wasn't all for it. He sighed.

"Fine. But on a trial basis."

epha tried to avoid the dwarves at all costs while they lingered around the place, bothering the poor hobbit. She soon found her way into the kitchen where Nori and Ori were putting the dishes away. She could tell they would be there a while so she twirled her fingers, not letting them see her in the shadows.

Suddenly, the dishes began to float and levitate to their cabinets, leaving Ori and Nori stunned. Halfway through, the two let out horrified squeals and rushed from the kitchen. Sepha chuckled to herself, finishing her job and turning.

That was when she realized that two pairs of eyes were staring at her in awe: Fili and Kili.

"That is absolutely brilliant!" Kili gushed. "How did you do that?"

Sepha smiled, "I'm part wizard on my father's side."

"but you're part dwarf too?" Fili inquired, "That is officially the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

Sepha chuckled and pulled her hood over her hair, leaving her mask down, "What are you guys going to do next? It's a few hours before it's time for bed."

The two nodded, "Thorin is calling us into the sitting room. Come on."

The two grabbed each of her hands and pulled her into the living room. All the dwarves were there and Sepha could see Gandalf sitting in the other room, nearby while Bilbo was in his bedroom, the door open.

Sepha didn't want to intrude because of the silence in the room, she knew that this was a dwarfish thing. Pulling away from Fili and Kili, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed, partially in the shadows.

She could see the smoke from the pipes make swirls in the air and it smelled sweet to her. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a deep baritone voice singing and Sepha realized in shock that it was THorin!

He was staring into the fire, one arm on the mantle, singing deeply as the other dwarves began to join him.

Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To find our long-forgotten goldThe pines were roaring on the height The winds were moaning in the night The fire was red, it flaming spread The trees like torches blazed with light

When they finished, Sepha found herself smiling. One by one, the dwarves said goodnight to each other and headed out of the room, off to find a corner of the room to sleep. Soon, it was only Dwalin, Fili and Kili in the room. Kili was staring at the fire, almost sadly while Fili had an arm around his shoulders. Dwalin had a hand on his shoulder, patting it.

"Kili," Sepha said, stepping into the dim light, "Are you alright?"

The youngest dwarf nodded, "it's just.... this is my first time really being away from home and.... I don't know...."

Sepha smiled and sat down on the other side of Kili. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and the dwarf laid his head on her shoulder.

"I know what it feels like," she whispered. "I had to leave my home... when I was young and I felt lost and alone. Even though there were people to care for me, I felt like I didn't belong."

"What happened to your parents?" Kili whispered.

Sepha stiffened and Kili sensed it, "You don't have to tell me if you dont want to."

"They... were killed in war," she whispered, "So was my twin brother... Prometa."

"I'm sorry lass," Dwalin said, standing by the mantle where Thorin had stood not long ago, "No one that young should lose their loved ones."

Sepha nodded and stroked Kili's hair and she felt him shiver, "What do you miss about home the most Kili?"

FIli and Dwalin could tell right away that she was trying to comfort him so they didn't say anything.

"I miss my mother.... she was a woman.... but she was so strong too! So brave when everyone else was scared or upset. She was the strongest person I know..." Kili whispered.

Sepha smiled and hugged him tighter, "Never feel like you should feel ashamed of missing your mother. It's the cowards who say that they don't miss their mothers, or sisters or wives. It's the strong brave ones who know that we aren't here to make them seem weak, but to help them be stronger."

Kili sniffed and sighed, "Can you sing something? My mom always sang when Fili and Kili were scared."

Fili was about to point out that she hadn't done that since they were kids but Sepha's smiled cut him off.

"Sure thing."

Fili sat forward, watching Sepha and Dwalin considered the young girl. Her face seemed to relax and her features lit up as her angelic, soft voice gently filled the room with a soft sensation that the dwarves had never felt before.

I saw the light fade from the sky On the wind I heard a sigh As the snowflakes cover my fallen brothers I will say this last goodbyeNight is now falling So ends this day The road is now calling And I must away Over hill and under tree Through lands where never light has shone By silver streams that run down to the sea

Under cloud, beneath the stars

Over snow one winter's morn I turn at last to paths that lead home And though where the road then takes me I cannot tell We came all this way But now comes the day To bid you farewell

Many places I have been Many sorrows I have seen But I don't regret Nor will I forget All who took the road with me

Night is now falling

So ends this day The road is now calling And I must away Over hill and under tree Through lands where never light has shone By silver streams that run down to the sea

To these memories I will hold

with your blessings I will go

to turn at last to paths that lead home

and though where the road then takes me

I cannot tell

We came all this way

but now comes the day

to bid you farewell

I bid you all a very fond farewell

When she finally finished, Fili's mouth was practically dangling open, Dwalin was smiling fondly at the girl and Kili was sound asleep, on the verge of snoring. Not looking at Fili or Dwalin, Persephone reached over and slipped from underneath Kili's head so that he was lying in front of the fire.

"Brisingr," she whispered, fire shooting from her fingers and making the fire burn brighter.

Dwalin jumped slightly at that but Fili just grinned in awe. As the girl slowly stepped into the kitchen, where she was going to bunk down for the night, Dwalin caught sight of Thorin standing in the doorway. His blue eyes were staring in wonder after Persephone while the rest of him was silent and serious... but calm.

Dwalin smirked and headed past THorin to get some sleep, "She's a special one," he whispered as he passed. "I can tell."

When the dwarf was gone, THorin looked at where Persephone had curled up against the warm stone wall next to the fireplace. He had to admit that even though it wasnt the most comfortable position, sleeping sitting up, her idea of sitting against the hot stones wasn't a bad idea.

"We'll see," Thorin whispered, looking from the girl to his two nephews who were sleeping by the fire.

[biot08]

Basically, as near as I understand, we define species by whether or not the members can interbreed true.

So, a horse and a horse gives you a horse, which can make other horses. Horses are a species!

A horse and a donkey give you a mule, which cannot reproduce. Mules are not a species.

And a horse and a giraffe cannot breed. They are different species.

Then we have dogs. I have read that dogs have a 'slippery genome'. Looking up what that means, exactly, did not yield much for me, and that's okay. It is enough to know that a chihuahua and a tibetan mastiff are the same species, despite being vastly different in appearance and size. They are both dogs. Dogs are just like that, from wolves to saint bernards, poodles to dachsunds. All the same species.

Hold that thought.

Okay so, take this slippery genome idea, and apply it to the typical fantasy world pastiche. We will call it Gaia, because I cannot be bothered to come up with a better name.

Anyway Gaia is a world much like Earth. Except it's called Gaia. And the maps are all different because I like making coastlines with the macaroni method. And it has two moons, because moons are awesome, and I have a plan for that second moon later. And it's bigger than Earth.

I dunno, maybe four time the surface area.

And it is a lot less stable, but that's okay, we'll fix that in a moment.

Anyway, there are a handful of sentient races on Gaia. Gaians, Dragons, and, iunno, squid people. There are not enough awesome squid people. Nevermind them, we'll get back to them, let's focus on the Gaians.

Anyway, Gaians are big. Like, as tall as dinosaurs. Because there are also dinosaurs on Gaia. Awesome. Gaians raise dinosaurs and ride them and maybe eat them. Sure, why not. Dinosaurs are livestock to Gaians. And Gaians have weird large floppy ears, and tusks, and their skin color is the entire rainbow. Green, blue, purple, brown, pink, you name it, they got it. Also, a fine layer of fur across their entire body. The hair on their face and top of head have started to differentiate from body hair, but still, these people are furry. Faint fur. No big deal, right?

Except that Gaia is not stable. Anyway, big planet from outside of the Gaian solar system cruises through the local neighborhood of planets, wreacking merry havoc with orbits, and Gaia gets wobbled from its usual place, and this is just too much. For you see, Gaia has an unstable core. Lots of lava, and the tectonic landmass plates sitting on top of it are not as stable or as well-fixed as the ones we have here on Earth.

So, the Harbinger (that's what we are calling the rogue planet) rockets though Gaian's solar system (need a name for the solar system), bringing about an event known to the history books as the Devastation. Not just -a- devastation, THE Devastation, capital D. Because the orbit change really badly messes with Gaia's climate, and to boot, it triggers Gaia into becoming more stable. By releasing all that sweet sweet hot magma pressure from its core. Across the surface of the entire planet, the places where tectonic plates meet fissures and cracks and spews magma into the atmosphere, cannibalizing oxygen aggressively and also creating huge, nigh-impassible volcanic mountain ranges.

And this is where the slippery genome bit comes in. The original Gaians had spread across the surface of Gaia, but now they are seperated from each other, either by huge volcanic mountain ranges or by large expanses where continents have simply split into chunks, torn asunder. The oxygen cannibalization is important here, because all of a sudden, the planet's not as good at supporting megafauna. Most of the dinosaurs die off, and so do... well, most lifeforms.

But the Gaians, they are a hardy people, and clever, and in their little isolated communities, their isolated tribes, they bounce back. It takes centuries, and during that time, the slippery genome effect makes itself felt.

See, all the typical fantasy pasitche races? They are all just small Gaians. Some of them are very small Gaians. But the long term isolation means that tribes all trend towards being samish to each other.

So, the original Gaians? Recognized in the historical archeological record. Big boned giant people from the before time. Primordial Titans.

But who do we have today?

We have humans. Humans are small Gaians, tending to have monochrome skin ranging from pink to dark brown. Their ears are round, their eyes sharp, their noses small.

Elves are light, thin, small Gaians. Taller than humans, sure, but shorter than the original race. They have long pointy ears, and sharp eyes that see well at night, and lithe, thin builds. They appear androgynous, because frankly, their gene line never really got in on the whole testosterone gig. Their skin is a bit more rainbow hued than the humans - pink to dark brown, and also some blues, some purples, some greens.

Orcs are also small Gaians, but not as small as humans or elves. About the same height as an elf, but more muscle. They are almost as muscular as the progenitor race. They have short, pointy ears, and 'good enough' eyesight, but with the neat trick of thermographic vision. Their skin colors tend to green, brown, blue, and a dusky gray. They appear androgynous, because frankly, their gene line bought so hard into the testorine gig, everyone got some.

Trolls are almost Gaians. The climate change and the volcanic activity really did a number on them, but they persisted. They are easily taller than any other race. Unfortunately, they lost all semblace of fur - and it took the hair with it. And their skin is tough, calcified, a layer of armor between them and the harsher world that really would rather they not live anymore. They no longer have the floppy ears of the original gains, but instead ears as long and point as en elf. They have big noses, and keen eyes. They are muscular, but not in the bulky way. Gaia no longer supports that kind of bulk on a creature this size. Their muscles are instead like steel cables, giving them a lean, tight look.

Dwarves are very small Gaians. Shorter than humans, but with the muscle build of orcs. They share a lot of characteristics with humans, like skin colors. They have large noses, and thermographic eyesight. Also, they are dense people - physically, not mentally. They are tough.

Gnomes are also very small Gaians, a little shorter than dwarves, but without the muscle and build. They are light and lithe, and many other races consider them childlike in appearance.

Goblins are also very small Gaians, but unlike the dwarves and gnomes which share skin colors with the humans, goblins share the orc skin color. And unlike the dwarves, who have orc-like muscle, Goblins have troll-like muscle. Goblins are doing better than the trolls here, though - they still have heads full of hair.

Anyway, history marches on as these races establish themselves in their little regions. Civilizations flourishes, gets on track. The volcanic mountain ranges weather over time, as mountain ranges do, and eventually these peoples meet each other. But remember! Slippery genome! They are all still Gaians, so they can interbreed.

The long time apart means that the genome has a bit of base fixing, now, so a child is going to likely have the predominant build of one of the parents, but the children may pick up secondary characteristics that can be a mix and match of the parents. An otherwise elven child with the large nose of a troll. An otherwise orcish child with the floppy ears of a goblin. An otherwise human child with the tusks of an orc.

So that's the Gaians, with a slippery genome, giving rise to the various fantasy races!

Oh, and for the others, outside of the Gaians - dragons exist and are sentient, and of course there is magic, and of course the dragons have had a hand at making their own races, so the various fantasy dracoforms exist here. They cannot cross mix with the Gaians, because they are not the same species, but maybe they can mix with each other. Or not. Haven't thought that far ahead yet, I just wanted to make sure there was space for lizardfolk. Because I like snake people.

And the oceans have naga, because naga are awesome, and also Cephalids, because cephalopods are also awesome. They're not evil automatically because screw it, I want to avoid the good versus evil archetypes here. People are people. The cephalids might have a bit of orange and blue morality, because that's interesting, but not the kind that looks suspicously like always evil to the rest of us, because that's boring. More like the kind that often seems inscrutable, but hey, if you explain what you were thinking, okay I can sort of see where you were coming from but maybe next time ask before doing that, okay?

I need a better name for this planet.

Anyway. Short version: Fantasy world, where a lot of the fantasy races are all the same species, because slippery genome.

[missblissy]

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine

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((Hello again everyone!! Thank you all so so so so much for all the support that you've given this fic!! Do not worry!! I am NOT DEAD!! I've just been busy with finals and college and stuff!! Please show the fic some love by leaving a kudos or commenting! I'd love to hear what you all have to say!!

I made a playlist on Spotify for Homeless at Home! Follow it to dive deeper into the world of the Gang and Reader!!

Lastly, everyone gets ready, because these next few chapters are leading up to something big!!))

Description:

The inside of the house was dark and smelled like a mixture of smoke and wet dirt. As you ran through the empty kitchen in the back of the house, up front were a dining room and living room came together in the foyer, where Arthur was laying on the floor at the foot of the old staircase. He had his gun in both hands pointed up to a figure halfway down the stairs.

It was an old man, he had his hands up in defense and fear was on his face that was taken over by an unkempt beard peppered with silver hairs that stuck out against his faded brown ones. Fear was on his face, “I-I-I didn’t mean!” The old man let out a yelp when Dutch pulled his gun out too, pointing it at the homeless man, “I’m sorry! I’m real sorry- please don’t kill me! I’m just a useless old man! I’ve been squatting here all summer waiting for the law to kick me out again!!” He looked like he was ready to piss himself.

_______________________________________

The sky was cloudy and the wind was strong, chilly, and cold enough to annoy you. Not that you weren’t already annoyed. Your legs and back had been hurting since the moment you had gotten on Callus. He was still a large horse and you were still small. That was a week ago. Callus was a tame animal, after all, he was a bit jumpy and easily agitated, but you could change that with trust and bonding, or so you were told. Nobody told you that riding a horse would be painful though.

Although it was hard to ignore, you did your best to shut out the sore throbbing pain that came from your lower back and legs. You carried on, doing your best to ride behind Arthur who was riding behind Dutch. The three of you were going somewhere very important and Arthur said this would be a good chance to bring you along for once. He argued that you needed to get out of camp more often and Dutch took the bait.

Almost an hour later and you were nearly at the end of this long ride. Your destination was close, that’s what Dutch said at least. Something awful has happened within the last few days. Hosea had gone missing. No one has seen him in four days, and this was not normal. You checked in town, in the jail, in the saloon. You found no sign of him until Arthur had went to Bessie’s stables and found David. He said she was home, and he saw Hosea giving her a ride on a wagon a few nights ago. He said he might have taken her home. So the best lead was Bessie’s own house, deep in Paradise Valley. She owned a large ranch miles away from Sugartown.

It was hard to believe she would take this ride to sell horses in town when she could have done it off her property. You laid eyes on a large horse ranch, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. You could fit the whole town on this plot of land. Dutch, Arthur, and yourself were at a stop before the large gateway that welcomed you to Bessie’s fabulous home. Not a single one of you had any idea she stemmed from such a… wealthy family.

The place seemed almost totally abandoned aside from the horses who grazed away in their fenced in pastures. It was nearly noon as you rode towards the house. Dutch took the lead, a hand always ready to grab his pistol. Arthur, however, was relaxed and making fun of Dutch’s paranoia. Dutch was only like that because you were there, you knew that Arthur knew that. Even Dutch knew that. The only reason why you weren’t as nervous as Dutch was because Arthur made a valid point earlier, Bessie was a friend, not a foe. It was clear she liked you, Dutch and Arthur. She hadn’t meet Annabelle or Susan yet but that was also because Hosea kept her at a distance from the gang. Dutch did the same with Annabelle, which is why no one was bothered at his hesitation.

Just as you had gotten near the house someone started rustling away behind a door as they jimmied it open. Dutch’s hand inched closer to his side where his guns rested in their holsters. The door swung open and out came a man you didn’t know. He was tall and skinny with big sunk in eyes, “Can I help you?” At least he was friendly and not threatening you to get off his land.

Dutch cleared his throat and gave a small wave, “I am so sorry, sir,” he started off. You could hear the showmen inside him come to life, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. I was told he was last spotted here. Maybe you’ve seen him? Tall, blonde hair? Blue eyes? Pointy nose like a rat?” You saw Arthur nearly burst into laughter. He snorted through before he brought his fist to his mouth and dug his teeth into a knuckle.

“Name’s Hosea?”

“Yes!” All three of you spoke at once, surprised and delighted to hear his name. Dutch spoke once more, “Have you seen him? Is he here?”

“Yep, he’s here.” The man headed back inside.

Well this was a nice and safe journey across the county. No guns. No shooting. No nothing! Now it was time to get Hosea and go home, right? Dutch needed help moving camp because winter was going to set in soon, but you didn’t have very many options to run to. There was a desert south, but it was barren and not livable, and Colm O’driscoll was down south. Which Dutch didn’t want to run the chances of crossing. You could head north but that would make things colder. East wasn’t an option. Neither was west. Dutch was extremely tempted to stay the winter in Paradise Valley, simply because the winters were mild here. However, Hosea was more familiar with this area and knew more people.

The door opened again and out came Hosea. He looked… not good. He seemed tired, his hair was messy and his eyes were dark. He was paler than normal as well. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he left camp. Dutch rushed to slide off his horse and took no time asking, “What has happened to you? Where have you been?” Here, clearly, but why?

Hosea started to shake his head and stayed on the large front porch, “I’m sorry Dutch- I.. didn’t mean to get caught up here for so long.”

“What’s going on here?” Dutch asked. You and Arthur had gotten off your mounts as well and followed Dutch up the steps. You stood on the first step while Arthur took the second.

There was a moment of silence as Hosea opened his mouth for a second then closed it. He then sighed and said, “Bessie’s father died,” He spoke quietly, “She… It’s very complicated,”

At some point Dutch had pulled out a cigarette, he lit it with a flick of a match along the side of the little box hidden in his palm. As he dragged in the nicotine he nodded, “As all things are, I’m sure.”

They seemed to have some kind of silent understanding for a moment before Hosea wrung his hands, “Yes, so,” He took a breath, “I’ve been helping Bessie and her sisters with the ah-.. the financial stuff,”

Dutch nodded his head as he steamed out a cloud of smoke, humming, “Mhm, sure,”

“And the legal stuff too. You know, who gets what, what goes where. It’s just he died, um- last night.”

“Oh, he did now?” Dutch raised his brow, not nearly as surprised as he let on, “Maybe that’s why you look like shit?”

Laughter mingled between them and Hosea shook a finger, “I couldn’t have said it better. It was real bad. We brought the doctor from town. Don’t even know what killed him. He just got very sick, lots of vomit, blood, couldn’t eat or sleep. He withered away, really.”

“Awful thing, that’s just awful. I’m sorry to hear that, Hosea, I am,” Dutch paused and this is when you knew the conversation was about to shift, “But we need ya back at camp. I get that this is not a good time but we have to get moving soon, you know that as good as I do.”

“I know Dutch- I know. I’m working on it, I’ve got a place that… Maybe might work for now, it’s actually not far from here,” It was almost as if the world knew he was talking about it. A cold breeze pushed right through the ranch with a heavy gust of mountain air falling from the sky above. Hosea shivered slightly and wrapped his arms together, crossed in front of his chest, “There’s an old house a few miles from here, much deeper in the valley,” He said, “It’s been eaten up by the forest and it’s been abandon for a good few years. I’ve seen it myself, it’s a good spot for now.”

There was a shared moment of silence as another breeze passed through, making a hollow windy sound in your ears as you watched Dutch flick away the dead end of his cigarette, “Alright,” There was a small flare in his attitude, like he was a spoiled child, “Are you coming with us?” He asked.

When Hosea shook his head slowly, you could see a look on Dutch’s face that let you knew every emotion he felt in those five seconds it lasted. Hosea saw it too and he wasn’t quick to rush to his own defense. There was a power struggle here that you or anyone in the world could see. “I can’t,” Hosea finally said, “I… I gotta stay here. Just a few more days, Dutch,” When Dutch didn’t say anything Hosea rambled on, but in a quieter tone as to not let anyone else hear his words but the other outlaw. You couldn’t make out the whispers but whatever Hosea said it must have worked.

“I understand,” Dutch backed away with a nod of his head, “I do, I know what you mean, it’s a terrible time for all of us. I swear it’s the weather, something about the cold makes us all cold-hearted bustards and brings about these dreadful times.”

“Exactly,” They started walking towards the steps, you and Arthur moved out of the way. Hosea turned to Dutch and shook his hand once, firm and formal, and gave him a nod of his head, “I’ll be here if you need me, but I don’t plan on staying forever,” He laughed a little shrill chuckle that sounded tired and strained.

“We know. If you aren’t back in a few days I’ll send Arthur to come in and check in on you. Right, boy?” Dutch had this cheeky flashy grin on his face as he passed the lanky cowboy. Arthur rolled his eyes and was sure to walk off a bit to avoid any teasing Dutch had in store for him, “Come on kids, we got a house to look at.”

As you watched Dutch and Arthur head back to the horses, you looked to Hosea who was standing there with a small smile. You wanted to speak with him, asking him if he was okay and why he had to stay here, but someone came to the front door and pushed it open half way.

His head barely poked out but you could make out who it was. Your eyes locked for a solid ten seconds as he gazed around the front porch. The doctor from town, the one you got the books from, stood in the doorway of Bessie’s house. You felt a wave of anxiety rush over you. Hosea had noticed the doctor too.

He gave you a little wave of his hand back and forth, “I’ll see you around, (Y/n). Don’t worry about nothing, alright?” He disappeared into the house after that.

Your heart was beating faster than a birds wings while trapped in a cage. The doctor was staring at you from around the front door where he still had his head stuck out. You met his gaze and when you did you felt nauseous. His face was blank and his glasses made it hard to see his eyes, for several seconds he stayed there before dipping behind the door and retreated back into the house. He heard your name. Your real name, not the fake one you gave him.

How much did he already know about you? How much of the truth had Hosea unintentionally tell him? Did he know who you were? About your parents? Worry started to sway back and forth in your mind like a bucket overfilled with water. Each splash and wave was like another thought that said something wasn’t right. Should you tell Dutch? Or maybe Arthur? Who knew what that doctor could do. You tried not to think about it as you returned to Callus.

The mustang seemed happy to see you at least. He brushed the side of his head against you as you walked by and let out a little chirp as you struggled to get in your saddle. He was a tall horse and you needed to jump to get up on his back.

Arthur and Dutch chattered away while you headed to this house that Hosea spoke about. You, on the other hand, had kept to yourself, focused on your thoughts. Arthur’s advice on ignoring the prying thoughts of your mother had been going pretty smoothly over the past couple weeks since your birthday, but seeing the doctor opened the flood gates again. For the most part, you thought about your mother’s family, the family you had that was still alive. What were they doing now, and what did they think about you?

The ride to the house felt a lot shorter in contrast to your daydreaming. Dutch had managed to find it by following an overgrown path into the forest. It was in better condition than anyone would have planned. It looked livable aside from all the plant overgrowth. It was a two-story house with white paint chipping away, and looked like it was big enough to fit a large family, which is exactly what you needed. At some point, Arthur had wandered inside while you and Dutch had taken a look behind the house. You found a shitty looking barn only a few feet away from tipping over, but it’d have to do. It was good enough to keep the horses in overnight, someone could camp out there and keep watch while keeping the horses' company.

Suddenly a loud bang came from the second floor of the house, followed by what sounded like rocks tumbling downstairs then someone yelling. You and Dutch looked at each other for a second before heading into the house through the back door.

The inside of the house was dark and smelled like a mixture of smoke and wet dirt. As you ran through the empty kitchen in the back of the house, up front were a dining room and living room came together in the foyer, where Arthur was laying on the floor at the foot of the old staircase. He had his gun in both hands pointed up to a figure halfway down the stairs.

It was an old man, he had his hands up in defense and fear was on his face that was taken over by an unkempt beard peppered with silver hairs that stuck out against his faded brown ones. Fear was on his face, “I-I-I didn’t mean!” The old man let out a yelp when Dutch pulled his gun out too, pointing it at the homeless man, “I’m sorry! I’m real sorry- please don’t kill me! I’m just a useless old man! I’ve been squatting here all summer waiting for the law to kick me out again!!” He looked like he was ready to piss himself.

While Dutch kept his sights locked on the stranger, you went over to Arthur and started dusting off the dirt that had gotten on his back as he sat up from the floor. As he groaned and got to his feet, Arthur’s low voice asked, “What the hell is your name, you old bastard?”

“Don’t got one,” He stayed still in his spot on the stairs. You could see his hands shaking slightly, “They call me, Uncle,” What a strange man. He smelled like whiskey, his hair was on the verge of turning from a light brown to snowy white. He had to be in his 50s at least. He swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke a little softer, “You ain’t the new owners… are ya? C-cause if so y-you- you wouldn’t happen to… keep this from the law?” What a pathetic man.

When Arthur finally stood tall again he snarled out, “I ‘aught to fucking kill you for kicking me down the fucking stairs! Hell no, we ain’t the god damn owners!” He pointed his finger and shook it with each word. You’d never seen Arthur get so angry so fast. He spun away and walked away from Uncle and head towards the front door that was still ajar.

“I said I was sorry! You should know better than sneaking up on an old man-” You stared at Uncle with wide eyes trying to mentally tell him to shut the hell up before he said the wrong thing.

Arthur stopped on his snotty little march out the door and looked back at Uncle. There was a moment of silence where everyone stared up at the old man and he looked back at every one of you. Before he turned away again, Arthur shook his head and cursed under his breath while saying, “Dutch do something with this old bag of shit, you’re the businessman,” He left after that.

Dutch on the other hand ran his hand over his mustache a few times while walking directly into the foyer. Uncle had come down a few steps too, but he was still sure to stay clear of Dutch just like he did with Arthur. Funny, because Dutch was the one he should be the most afraid of, you thought to yourself.

“Well,” Dutch started, and took a long pause as he did this thing where he rubbed his chin then crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave Uh… Uncle. You see we might not be the new owners, but… ah… We need this house more than you do.”

Surprise oddly washed across his face, “You ain’t gonna kill me?” Uncle asked.

“Not yet,” Dutch retorted, “No, not yet.”

“You’re just gonna… Kick me out? I was here first!”

“And I got a gun,” Dutch’s voice was smooth and low and calm. He stood in front of you now, while you looked around him and watched Uncle. Laughter twisted around in Dutch’s chest for a second, “Now get out,” He smiled.

Uncle stood there for a second or two while he took in this new reality that just slapped him, “Wh-.. what? You can’t do this to me!” He pleaded, “I… You’re doing me worse than death by sending me out there!” Out where? Outside the house? “Please! Mister! I’ll… I’ll pay! I’ll work! I got money! Please let me stay!”

Money changed the name of this game and Dutch was already bending the rules, “Money?” He tipped his head to the side slightly, “How much money?”

Uncle was frazzled enough already. He brought his hands up and shook them around as he spoke, “It’s in a safe!” he started, paused and licked his lips, “In the basement!” There was a basement?

But Dutch wasn’t as stupid as Uncle wanted to think he was, “Did you put the money in the safe?”

Uncle’s face dropped, “N-no… B-but… I found it! It’s mine!”

Dutch’s laugh came from a dark place, it was loud and sounded like a cackle, “It’s mine now!” His smile flashed on his face and he bent over as he laughed, “Woah! You are something special old man! Tell you what,” Dutch took a finger and ran it under his eye to clear away the single tear he gained, “You got till I come back with the rest of my friends then you gotta clear it from here, ya understand?” Dutch then turned on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t even give Uncle the chance to say anything in reply because he yelled out, “Arthur! Get over here!”

Like the little lap dog he was, he came running over, “Yeah?” He stayed put on the steps of the front porch.

Dutch walked up to him and said, “You stay put here with, (Y/n), I’m gonna head back and gather up the ladies and bring them here. Make sure no one else finds their way back here alive,” As he walked past Arthur he clasped his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. And that was it, Dutch mounted his stallion and was off into the forest and gone from sight.

You walked outside and met up with Arthur as he sat down on the front steps. You stood to the side of him and peered back into the house. Uncle was gone, but not really, he must have disappeared back inside. You felt bad for him. He clearly was alone in this world and didn’t have anyone else but himself. He seemed lonely, sad, and well… easy to pity. Maybe you should let him stay?

“It’s a nice house,” Arthur’s voice broke through your thoughts, “Two bedrooms downstairs,” he was staring at the overgrown path that led to the road and out of the forest, “Two bedrooms upstairs too.”

“Well that’s good,” You decided to sit down next to him, “It’s nice that there is some furniture too,” You noticed bits here and there when you were inside. There was a table with some chairs, a couple of couches, and the kitchen had a stove. There were fireplaces scattered around too. It was a really nice find for you guys.

The two of you chatted back and forth. You talked about the rooms you wanted, the warmth you’d have for winter, and how it sucked being nearly two hours away from Sugartown. Arthur made plans to explore the area, see if there were any closer towns or trading posts. As you talked, the sky grew darker and darker with thick grey clouds forming overhead while thunder echoed from far away. Every so often it’d get closer and the wind would get stronger. Soon enough the weather drove you and Arthur inside the house. You both decided to hide in there and wait it out until Dutch returned with the rest of your things and the others.

As you stared out the window you watched the storm outside pick up as a mixture of rain and ice started to fall. It got incredibly cold within a matter of minutes. Arthur started a fire in the living room fireplace in the background of your thoughts while you focused on the chaos outside. The storm felt alive and you felt as if you were apart of it. It came without a sound then screamed when it finally got here. You knew there wasn’t a chance Dutch would be back tonight, so you got comfortable with the new house and waited out the weather. ______________________________________________________________

The winter came much faster than anyone expected. About two weeks later and the world turned into a snowy escape. There was always a thin sheet of snow covering everything while the sun slowly melted it away. Most days were clear and cold, but most nights were colder and filled with snowfall.

While everyone made themselves at home, you took claim to one of the bedrooms on the first floor, Arthur took the other. Surprisingly, Dutch didn’t kick Uncle out after all, but he did kick him out of his room. The old man was left to sleep in the living room on the couch while Dutch and Annabelle took his room, and Susan took the other one upstairs. The sad part about all this was that Hosea had still not returned from Bessie’s Ranch. He visited, once, when you first got here, but you haven’t seen much of him since then.

Dutch had finally had enough of waiting around for Hosea and had left some time ago to go find him. You stayed behind because you enjoyed the warmth the house provided. However, this meant you had chores to do instead. Since Hosea wasn’t around to hunt, Susan had taken up the task, and every morning that she would come back with something, it was your job to cut and clean it. Today she brought back a small and sad looking turkey. She wasn’t the world’s best hunter, but she was all you had.

You sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and by the windows. You could peer out the icy glass and to the backyard. As you plucked feather after feather, you watched Arthur stand watch by the front doors of the barn, standing over a little fire with his hands close to the tips of the flames. Each time he breathed a little cloud fluttered away in the wind. In the background, you could hear Annabelle and Susan quietly chat about Dutch. You listened to bits and pieces of their words.

“He’s been gone a while now,” Annabelle muttered with a slight attitude, “It’s almost noon. How long does it take to get someone?”

Susan let out some sort of sigh or sneer, it sounded like both, “Girlie,” She started and you looked up to see her pointing a finger at Annabelle, “You need to focus on cutting those potatoes and less on Dutch. He’s fine.” No one knew that for sure but that’s just what was said anytime someone went missing these days. They're fine. They're missing but they are fine and dandy

“Do you think Hosea will come back?” Annabelle’s questions never seemed to end. She was a strong-willed woman and she fought Susan’s bitterness with an air of politeness. She really was such a kind-hearted woman with a spirit of gold.

Again, Susan let out a sound of annoyance and shrugged while shaking her head, “Who knows. He’s found a real lady with a lot of money. He might run east with her if he gets the chance.” There was no way Hosea would do that, you knew he’d never leave the gang.

“You think?” Annabelle picked up a small pile of chopped potatoes and poured them into a boiling pot of water on the kitchen’s old fashion stove, “He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“Ha!” Susan laughed, she hummed for a second then said, “You don’t know Hosea, then,” You made sure to listen in on her next words, curious to learn Susan’s true impression of the silver-tongued outlaw, “He’s a slimy, evil little goblin who chases after the high of getting rich. He wants money. Nothing else.” That didn’t sound like Hosea at all. The Hosea you knew was kind and gentle and silent. He was a powerful mastermind and a genius at tricking people to give him their money, but he wasn’t a… a gold digger. There was no way on earth he was. What about all the times he spent patiently teaching you to aim a gun? To walk quiet enough to sneak up on a rabbit? What about all the crime novels you’d read together every weekend and gush about? He wouldn’t just… leave… would he? Did the gang mean anything to him? It meant the world to Arthur, this was his home, it was the growing pride of Dutch’s fruits of labor.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps outside on the front porch creaked out. You looked out the window and noticed Arthur wasn’t at the barn anymore. In a matter of seconds, Dutch was standing in the archway of the kitchen with an awful look on his face. Arthur was standing right behind him, peering into the room and sharing a glance with you.

“Well?” Susan asked, “Where is he?”

Dutch shook his head and ventured into the kitchen. As he walked past you he placed a hand on your head and ruffled your hair. He took the seat at the other end of the table while Arthur took his spot in the archway. After what felt like hours, Dutch leaned back in his chair and placed his hands together on his chest, “He’s gone.”

While Susan had a look of almost pride for calling it, Annabelle seemed shocked and so did Arthur, “What?” Annabelle left her potato cutting duty and stared in disbelief, “Where did he go?”

You had also stopped plucking the turkey and left it abandoned on the table, “He’s gone? Like.. he ran away?” You asked slowly while trying to believe it, Hosea actually left?

He waved his hand then shook his head, “I don’t know,” Dutch said, “I went there and the ranch was sold. I spoke to the new owners, some… real fat city folk from the east coast. Pigs,” He spit on the floor, had something gone down between them and Dutch? “Bessie was gone, her sisters sold the ranch and split. They said two daughters headed south to Texas, and the last daughter went west toward California. I’m guessing that was Hosea and Bessie,” Dutch paused as he sat up some more, straight and formal, his voice was low and carried an anger to it that you didn’t understand, “Said they left nearly a week ago,” Silence filled the room aside from the soft bubbles of the boiling pot of potatoes. Out of nowhere Dutch slammed his fist down into the table so hard that it scared the shit out of everyone, “A Goddamn week ago!” He shouted.

No one spoke after that. You all stayed in your place while silently mourning over the loss of Hosea and the betrayal that he left behind. You glanced at everyone in the room.

Annabelle and Susan stood still and startled by Dutch’s outburst. Uncle had managed to peek his head into the kitchen from behind Arthur who had a confused expression on his face. It didn’t make sense… It just didn’t add up. Why would Hosea leave? Did he really not care about the gang and was he really just a money hungry monster?

Something told you it wasn’t that, it was something else, something Hosea never mentioned or talked about. But really everyone knew what it was… It was Bessie... And Hosea’s profound and obvious love for her

[tanuki-kimono]

Japanese folk tales #61 - Tengu’s Nose

Requested by @samoililja (so sorry for the delay, tengu are not that often shown in tales!)

Find my tales tagged here or visit my blog for both english and french versions. Wish me to cover a special youkai or subject? Contact me, I’ll try to accommodate ^^❤️

Once upon a time, many tengu still haunted the forests of Japan, and those demon-like creatures were highly feared by all.

With their muscular frames topped with wide black wings and their sharps talons, they were known to prey upon unholy monks and nuns and innocent travellers alike.

All across the country, their angry red faces and long, long pointy noses plagued the nightmares of many.

One day, a tengu, among the strongest of all by the length of his nose, heard commotion coming down from the narrow road which wound into the deep forest.

– Trespassers!

Swiftly gliding from one tall cedar to the next, the devil approached, silent as the wind.

A Daimyo’s procession​ was slowly making its way between the ancient trees and dense undergrowth.

Followed by heavy oxen carts, hundred of people carried huge lacquered trunks and shiny trinkets. Everywhere, silk banners flapped in the clear air, their bright colors contrasting with the starkness of nature.

Nestled in all this magnificence, a breathtaking palanquin escorted by prancing war horses was lazily making its way uproad, gold ornaments glittering in the faint light.

From his perch, the tengu let out an infuriated croak.

The beast rose his talon-hand and seized the large feathered fan which hung from his belt. A curt flick from his wrist launched a devastating gale which shook all trees in the vicinity.

All forest life seemed catch its breath as old cedars, uprooted by the blunt force of the blow, started to dangerously sway.

And in loud thundering crack, they fell on the road in a thick cloud of dust.

The procession stopped as stricken by lightning. Then, panicked shouts rose as men jumped in to soothe the agitated horses and oxen.

The tengu started to snicker, delighted by the ongoing chaos. But his glee didn’t last long.

An imperious voice ordered from the palanquin:

– Why aren’t we moving?

A little man scurried, nervously smoothing his scarce moustache:

– Huge trees has fallen on the road my Lord. We are going to be badly delayed.

The voice dropped lower:

– Nonsense. I refuse to spend the night in those woods. You have an hour to take care of this.

The skittish little man paled but only bowed and hurried to share his master’s orders.

The tengu hissed: how could those mere humans simply ignore his ire?

Spreading his mighty wings, the demon soared and landed near the palanquin, so forcefully the earth quaked around his feet as the men squeaked in sheer terror.

Rising to his full height, talons gleaming darkly, the tengu roared:

– Who are you to dare opposing me?

A delicate hand carefully rolled up the palanquin bamboo screens. Then, the lord calmly stepped out, cautious to not let his priceless attire touched the soil. Precious brocade glittered as sun caught the elegant twin swords at his side.

Like one, all fell to their knees, bowing so low in complete deference that their heads touched the ground. The tengu’s face grew even redder:

– Those insects only cower at me yet crawl before you?

The lord’s lips twitched. His eyes seized up the angered giant dwarfing his lither frame. A flicker of something that wasn’t truly fear crossed the noble man’s face. He finally answered coldly:

– Pardon me but we have not been introduced properly. Galant company must bow to present themselves. I’ll start.

In a flourish, the lord dropped to his knees. With dignified movements, he placed his hands before him and bowed deeply:

– I am pleased to meet you, great keeper of the forest.

The lord sat up straight and simply said:

– Now it’s your turn.

Somehow astonished by the man’s nerves, the tengu thought to himself:

(well, if he wish so, let us play and exchange civilities. I’ll kill him soon enough)

And with a sly smile baring his dark red face, the monster tried to bow. Tried only as his nose was so long he could just tilt his head toward the ground.

The noble man patiently guided:

– Maybe roll your shoulders further in, yes like so. And spread your legs, you should be able to touch the ground this way.

The tengu had inclined his face as low as he could, his pointy nose planted in the forest soil like a strangely colored trunk.

Eager to stop this little game, the beast hungrily growled:

– I am pleased to meet-

Before he could finished, the lord had unsheathed his sword and in a fast and precise blow, he cut the tengu’s nose clean.

His wings furiously flapping, the monster shrieked:

– I am the great keeper of those lands how dare you-

The noble man snickered:

– Without your big nose, you are now nothing but a lesser demon with no power. Begone!

Shocked and ashamed to have been tricked by a human, the tengu fled and soon disappeared deep in the forest.

As his men let out victory roars, the noble man, swiping blood from his blade, simply ordered:

– One hour to clear the road, not a minute more.

All sighted. This long day had only started.

Notes:

Tengu inhabitat mountains or forests. Sometimes seen as gods sometimes depicted as bloodthirsty monsters, they always are powerful forces of nature. If they all share links with birds of prey and/or crows (wings, talons) several kinds exists, from the imposing Daitengu (great Tengu, who have long noses), to the smaller Kotengu (lesser tengu, who usually have bird like faces).

Popular folklore stated that the longer his nose, the more powerful the tengu is (this explains why today’s one loses his rank and power when his nose is cut). Though they are fierceful and cunning warriors, tengu can still be outmatched. Their biggest flaws are their angry nature, and their pride and absolute confidence in themselves – weaknesses smart humans don’t hesitate to use to save their lives!

Daimyo processions (daimyo-gyoretsu) were common in Edo period as the feudal lords had to follow Sankin kotai, a policy created to strengthen shogunate control over powerful warlords after the warring states era.

Japanese culture uses many kind of bowing salutations (ojigi). If some are polite salutes following ranks and circumstances, others are used to show complete submission, like the impressive dogeza, where people prostrate themselves on the ground. (if you wish to learn more, Tofugu has published this neat guide showing many different bows).

[pictures sources: 1 / 2 / 3 ]