#magical plants of the highland lochs

[getfuckedblr]

i’m legit the worst at taking pics so i very much apologize in advance:( but this is a little project i’m working on! i’m trying to rebind the og harry potter books into a book that would fit that year!

so here we have goblet of fire rebound as magical water plants of highland lochs. ik it’s quite plain, but i think i like that? i fear one of my weaknesses is i tend to do too much and it ends up looking not the best (yes i am referring to my bindings of HEX. i hated it almost as soon as i was done. i might try to rebind that closer to christmas bc she’s too good of a story to sit in that ugly ass case😭).

and then of course we have half blood prince rebound as the potions textbook from 6th year! i’m really quite proud of this one bc the version that comes up when u google it has all those equations in the foreground but i just could not make it work in my cricut. so i did these little line doods to “outline” the cauldron.

so yeah! i’ve been stuck on making the monster book of monsters for a while bc i’ve already covered her in fur that i then had to shave which was a whole mess🥴 and i need to create like a head/face but i’m actually terrified to modify what i have in any way lest i have to start all over again. so yeah i’ll try and maybe finish this before the year ends LMAO.

idk i’m really proud of how clean these two came out like these bitches are IN there. anyway see y’all later:)

[mrsalwayswrite]

Lady of the Loch (Jamie Fraser x OC) Part 1

Summary: An old family folktale thrived amongst the Frasers of Lallybroch about a mythical being that lived in the small, secluded loch near their home. Most claimed it was just a story, while a rare few claimed to have seen her. But for Jamie Fraser, she became so much more. 

This was my submission for a Halloween challenge (I'm a few days late, sorry) and my first time writing for the Outlander fandom! This story ended up taking a life of its own, so I split it into 2 parts. Also, the moodboards are made by me with all pics from Pinterest.

My prompt was: nymph

Words: 3200

Series warnings: canon divergence, all the Fraser family is alive, Claire doesn't exist, mild sexual content, magic themes, Greek mythology, pining, fluffy goodness

Jamie Fraser considered himself an educated man. Far more than most Scots, if he was being honest, but he was still a Highlander through and through. With that were certain beliefs and traditions passed down through the generations which he inherited, a portion of those beliefs resided in the knowledge of the unseen and magical. He had grown up with stories of kelpies, of selkies, of the Bean Nighe, and of the Fair Folk. He had heard enough stories that the belief of them flowed through his veins, just as surely as his own blood. 

Yet he learned early on, that those magical beings were not the only ones to inhabit Scotland. 

It was a Fraser family secret, passed from one generation to the next. Most took it as another folklore story, but some claimed they had firsthand experience. That there truly was something living in the small loch behind Lallybroch. A spirit of the waters. A lady of the loch. 

A few Frasers claimed to have heard her angelic singing as they approached the loch, but it would abruptly stop just before they came within sight. Even fewer claimed to have caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman with long, dark hair and skin as pale as moonlight. 

Amongst the myths of this magical maiden, there was one of a Fraser women who had approached the loch, crying and begging for help from its mysterious inhabitant, in dire need of wisdom in helping her sister who had married a terrible man. The story went that somehow she was guided to a particular plant, hidden away amongst the rocks, that was known to quickly kill. The Fraser woman claimed the lady of the loch had provided the means to save her sister. Another myth claimed a man was sick and nearing death's door but after a bath in the loch, he miraculously recovered. Yet throughout all the stories, there was one underlying theme. The mysterious inhabitant seemed to look out for the Frasers who resided in Lallybroch. 

Jamie was eight years old when his father first told him about the family secret. Naturally, the next day he told his best friend, Ian, and the two young boys decided to take their own chances on seeing the mysterious maiden of the waters. It came to naught as they spent hours by the water's edge, occasionally throwing rocks into the water in hopes it would disturb her and force her to rise. 

For the next few years, the two would occasionally try their luck at seeing the loch's inhabitant but it was never to be. Not even her supposed angelic singing graced their ears. 

Soon enough, Ian gave up on the idea, saying it was just an 'auld folktale to amuse bairns'. His attention quickly shifted to a different dark-haired Fraser beauty. Thankfully, Jamie did not recognize the shift in attention of his best friend until years later, otherwise he would have been forced to punch his friend for the sake of his sister's honor. Even though she was more than capable of throwing said punch herself, if provoked. 

As the years passed, Jamie found himself still drawn to the small loch behind Lallybroch. More and more often, he would wander there alone to swim in its waters or climb around on the rocks and trees. Sometimes he would speak aloud- sharing about his day or what he had learned from his tutors or any recent scuffles he had with his older brother or sister. He knew there was no one else around and if anyone caught him they could call him mad…but somehow he just knew there was someone there listening. Even if they never replied. 

He was unsure exactly when everything changed. 

Before he knew it, he could feel eyes watching him. Sometimes when he shared a particularly funny story, he thought he could hear laughter like the soft tinkling of bells. More than once, he caught sight of the water stirring when there was nothing to move it. 

The first time he heard her singing, he was thirteen, almost a man. He walked the familiar path to the small loch, alone and angry. The argument he had just walked away from with his father replayed over and over in his mind, causing him to almost miss the beguiling voice on the faint breeze. His heart hammered within his chest at the purely angelic voice, even if he did not understand the language spoken. His feet were frozen on the hard ground, for fear of taking another step closer would disturb her and halt the melody of the heavens that currently graced this small part of Earth. Was it minutes or hours he stood there, entranced? He cared not. What did time mean when he had the honor of listening to her, for it sounded like all the good things in life he loved, all wrapped up and coated in sunshine. 

Finally…he attempted to creep forward, but as he passed some invisible threshold, the singing abruptly ceased and a smooth splash in the water proved the serenade was over. Even as guilt and regret swept over him, he continued towards the rippling water and took a seat on what he had named 'his' rock, for it was large and half situated in the water and half out. 

Once there, he spoke aloud, apologizing for disturbing her singing and attempting to describe how beautiful it was, even if he kept stumbling over his words and more than likely sounding half-crazed. When he finally gave up and hung his head, cheeks blazing red from embarrassment, he was certain he heard her soft laughter nearby. 

Nothing was able to remove the smile from his face the rest of the day. 

*****

Over the next couple of years, he frequently heard her singing. He knew it was foolish, but he liked to pretend she was waiting for him or greeting his arrival. Yet whenever he crossed that unknown threshold, it would abruptly end. Many times he would sit, close his eyes and listen. For her voice soothed him, like a cooling balm to his heart and mind, silencing any doubts or anger and filling him with peace and joy. 

He never told a soul about hearing her. Every time he thought about it, the words would latch onto his tongue, refusing to pass his lips and spoil the air. So he kept the secret to himself, locked away. When his family or Ian teased him about the amount of time he spent at the small loch, he would brush it off or make excuses. It became his place of solace, away from the demands of the farm and his family. Plus with each passing year, he became more aware that he was not there alone. 

***** 

It was not until after his sixteenth birthday, he finally saw her for the first time. 

His father had begun training Jamie with a wooden sword years ago, but now he had grown tall enough and strong enough to attempt a real sword. One day mid-summer, Jamie snuck away from his chores, carrying his father's sword with him to practice by the loch. Working on his footing and stances, he murmured the steps to himself, focusing solely on his body, the sword and his invisible opponent. 

Suddenly, that feeling of being watched hit him. 

Spinning on his heel, he swung the sword in a clumsy arc, turning to face the small loch. Only for his eyes to practically bug out of his head as they met the most mesmerizing, startling set of eyes gazing softly back at him. The colors swirled in her orbs, various shades of blue with hints of green. The rest of her was just as striking and stunning. Hair as black as the deepest depths of night flowed down her body to her hips. Skin as pale and soft as moonlight graced her form, without blemish or mark. An white dress covered her slender body, but damp as it was, it both teased and hid the beauty of her form with its near-sheerness. Pink lips turned upward into a smile that made Jamie's knees weaken and almost stumble by the utter radiance in the simple action. Youth and beauty were her adornments yet within those mesmerizing eyes, was an agelessness that added a new level of wonder about her. 

Without words he knew who sat at the water's edge watching him. Even beyond the feeling of etherealness surrounding her like warm sunlight, she was, without question, the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes upon. 

"Hello, Jamie."

His heart stumbled, skipping several important beats, and his lungs froze, unable to accept air, due to the shock of hearing the glory that was her melodious voice in saying his name!

It was not until her blinding smile dimmed to a look of concern that he realized he had stopped breathing, his chest refusing to inflate. Immediately, he sucked in a ragged gasp and doubled over, forcing necessary air into his lungs and willing his heart to function properly instead of trying to kill him in self-sabotage. 

Once he finally gained marginal control over his traitorous body and gave into the inevitability of the embarrassing moment, he finally looked back up at the woman nearby. 

A lively smile brightened her countenance once again. She reclined in the shallows of the water, most of her weight resting on one hip, with her legs gracefully bent beside her. Her hands were placed demurely in her lap while her long hair teased around her form, dancing in the water's lazy motion. Those hypnotic eyes twinkled merrily as they scanned over him, setting his body alight, before settling on his forgotten sword. 

Either in his shock of her sudden appearance or the embarrassing coughing fit following, he must have dropped his father's sword onto the grassy ground. 

"Ah shite, dinna tell my Da."

Her answering laughter threatened to make his chest seize once again in awe while a very distinctly male part of him was certainly taking notice of the almost naked woman before him, her thin, white dress only doing so much to conceal her tempting body. 

Picking the sword back up, he wiped what little grime it had accrued on his tartan. His gaze drifted back to the woman, wondering what to do next. 

"Pray tell, did you maim that terrible fowl you bespoke of days ago?"

It took another embarrassingly long moment for his mind to rise above the allure of her voice, a sound he easily wanted to drown in for eternity, and to actually hear her question. Once her question sunk in, he broke out laughing. 

"Ach no, the wee terror still lives. My Ma forbade me to kill it."

Why she remembered that particular story he would never know. Although, it was terribly amusing now. He had gone out to gather the eggs for his Ma, when one of the hens decided to seek revenge for all the years of stealing her hard labor. With a flurry of wings, it attacked him, biting and clawing. He threatened to rip its feet off, once he restrained the bird. The next day he had come to the loch and amidst his ramblings, he shared that story. 

Feeling emboldened by her tinkling laughter, he slid the sword back into its sheath, then carefully leaned it against a nearby tree. Moving slowly, overly aware of the proximity between them, he walked over to 'his' rock and settled down like any normal visit. 

Except this time, he had an visible audience to his stories and ramblings….an divinely, enchanting maiden. 

*****

After that day, every time he returned to the loch, she would appear. Weeks went by. Then months. And as time passed, so did the distance between them. 

At a year, they would sit nearly side by side on 'their' rock. He spoke mostly, sharing stories and tidbits for her amusement, for she enjoyed his tales, no matter how mundane they felt to him. 

One time he finally worked up the courage to ask why she refused to reveal herself to others. 

A forlorn sigh escaped her, a dainty hand swirling the water to create ripples. "Tis safer. I have been alone for…." Her sweet voice trailed off, ages of pain echoed in her words. With a brief shake of her head, she tilted her face to look up at him with eyes that had seen far too much. "Tis better for all."

"And me?"

"You are different, young one."

He internally preened under her words, further confirming how special it was that she chose to reveal herself to him…and more than once! Over the past year, he even more frequently visited the loch to see her. The most time they had been separated was six days and by that last day, it felt like there was an itch under his skin he could not escape, drawing him back to the magical loch and back to her. 

Then her title for him finally sunk in. 

"Young–young one?!" He sputtered. "Ah, haud yer wheesht! Ye ken I am a man grown!" 

Her laughter flowed over and around him, like a summer breeze. An answering smile grew on his face, for how could he not mirror her joy when it was so potent? 

"Weel, ye can'no be much older than me." 

Her laughter dried up, a wanness replaced what sunshine they had been basking in. Before she turned to look over the loch, an agelessness had emerged in her bright eyes that was haunting. "I have borne witness to the rise and fall of empires and gods alike. Yet I endure, for I am tied to this place. Tis my home and under my protection." 

Silently, he reached across the gap that always lay between them, a no-man's land of sorts, to gently take her hand in his. A warm tingle shot up his arm at the connection, causing his heart to trip. She inhaled sharply and looked down at their hands. Yet after a moment's hesitation, her fingers intertwined with his, a reassured smile on her face. 

They sat that way, quietly talking, until darkness began to creep in. Jamie loathed to leave her side, for this was the first time they had touched and with her small, soft hand in his own calloused one, it felt right. Even if he had no idea what that meant. 

*****

It was two months later, his world turned upside down once again. 

Stalking down the path and through the trees surrounding, his feet pounded on the ground with each step. Coming to 'their' rock, he practically collapsed onto it, furiously wiping away the tears leaking down his cheeks. 

"Jamie? What torments you so?"

He looked up, seeing her through watery eyes, standing knee deep in the loch and watching him with a slightly furrowed brow and concern in her eyes. "I– I dinna want– they are–" A fresh sob caught in his throat and he closed his eyes even as tears flowed unhindered, his hand covering his mouth to try and repress the sound of his despair. 

Within moments, her lithe body dropped onto the rock next to him and her arms wrapped around him in a soothing embrace. Unashamed, for it felt like his heart was fracturing within his chest, he laid his head on her shoulder and clung to her as he quietly cried. It was only in the comfort of her embrace and with her hand stroking his hair, that he felt safe enough to speak. He brokenly explained how his family was sending him away to stay with his uncles for a time in Castle Leoch. 

"I dinna want tae go." He murmured after his tears dried and he explained the predicament. 

"Why?"

"This is my home, ye ken? I dinna wish tae leave it. Or my family, or Ian. And….I dinna wish tae leave ye. Ye will be alone again." 

She pressed their foreheads together and if possible, Jamie thought he may have swooned a little. He could taste her breath on his lips, feel the warmth of her body sinking under his skin and infusing into his blood, heating him from the inside out. Her hand still lazily stroked his hair and he now understood why dogs and cats enjoyed it so much. 

"You are my greatest friend, James Fraser, and I shall miss you. But you will go." She gently commanded. "There is much to learn and see in this world. I will await here for your return in which you shall share stories of your adventures and your travels. Agreed?"

Still choked up, he barely managed to mutter out, "agreed". 

They sat that way for some time, sharing the air between them, breathing in the scent of the other and their presence as if to memorize. Jamie knew he must leave soon, to return back to Lallybroch and his duties there. Plus, the longer he sat so close to her, touching and being touched by her, a rather large problem was filling up the front of his trousers. 

With an uncomfortable cough, he drew back and shifted, leaving their shoulders and thighs touching in an innocent yet enticing way. A heat radiated from his cheeks that he hoped she would not take notice of. He rubbed the nape of his neck, looking out over the small loch with its barrier of trees and shrubs surrounding it like a natural form of protection for the magical place. 

"Ye ken, ye ne'er told me yer name." He said quietly, a realization that had been nagging him for some time now. Over the last year they had spent together, she never shared her name, nor had he asked. 

"Hmmm….names have power."

"D'ye no trust me?"

Her eyes flashed over to him, a tightness around her pink lips. "I do."

"But ye willna tell me it?"

"When you return, I shall."

Before he could pester her more, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek, lingering far longer than expected for a chaste kiss. A thrill shot down his spine with the force of a bullet, leaving him flushed and his mind spinning. 

"Farewell, Jamie. May the wind and the waves watch over you and darkness never have a foothold." She whispered and then rose, gracefully walking out into the water. 

Jamie watched her, the skin touched by her lips warm and tingling, and his body seemingly tied to the ground. He knew what was to come, for he had witnessed it many times before but it still always managed to shock him. For in the blink of an eye, she disappeared, one moment there and the next gone, as if a spirit of the water returning to its home. 

With a resigned sigh, he got up, in need of returning home. But as he gazed out over the loch once more, he knew somehow she was watching. 

"I'll return soon. I promise ye." 

Only a silent, soft breeze answered his spoken promise. 

Part 2

[liiacfleur]

The Undead Highlands

contains spoilers for unpublished chapters 6/7/8/9. don't read the indicated spoilers if you don't want to be spoiled about certain places and (vague) references to events that take place later in the story. ones that I would consider larger spoilers are labeled as (MAJOR SPOILERS) and the text has been crossed out. this will be updated again around chapter 9/10.

Capital:

Moonstone

Capital of the Highlands. A major port city carved into the sea wall with an affinity for mining, sheep herding, and artisan materials. The first established city within the Highlands, and the home of their leader, Kas the Banished. In the time of the Ancient Kingdom, it was the only city south of the wall that was able to hold off the Undead King's seige. Unfortunately, its residences subsequently starved to death trapped within the city, their bones only found by Kas and his army many centuries later.

Major Towns/Cities:

Moonsmouth Sanctuary

The first attempt at settling in the Valley of the Vanquished. With a population of several thousand, they were able to build homes in the trees around them after forming a spiritual connection with the sentient plant life. The village initially specialize in wood exports across the fledgling kingdom, and made occasional trades to established merchants from Hawkins. Eventually, they became a sought out trading post, and their economy expanded to include a variety of merchants and goods.

By 207 GC, they became the first established city outside of Moonstone, joined by a second later in the year, and a third on the west coast in 209 GC.

Loch Hellfire

(Minor Spoilers)

Built in the remains and rubble of a city from the ancient times, Loch Hellfire was built along the coastline at the outer reaches of the Bog of the Dead. Beginning as another outpost such as Moonsmouth, it was officially established by the Byers siblings when they went to study old tombs preserved inside the rubble. More resources were allocated to its construction thereafter.

By 207 GC, it consisted of nearly six thousand residences, specializing in magic, apothecary, and the training and soul tying of monsters found south of Moonlit Wall.

Dragon's Peak

(MAJOR SPOILERS)

Originally an abandoned ancient city on the western side of the continent south of Denfield and the Crescent Tower. After an expedition led by Robin and Steve in spring of 209GC, it was later established as a major city in the following years, culturally mixed between those of the Undead Highland and a flood of citizens from Denfield who possessed old magic. It became a sea trading port, specializing in mining, and held the most impressive military for centuries afterwards, consisting of not only highly skilled soldiers, but dragon riders as well.

Lesser Locations:

Cabin Near Mirkwood Tower:

(Minor Spoilers)

The site of Eddie's death in 202 GC. Sometime after the war, a single cottage, a water well, and a small orchard were constructed by Kas the Banished and his Arch Mage. In the summer of 208 GC, it was established as a small farming village, accompanied by a militia to guard the border after the court rebellion in Hawkins. They specialize in farming gourds and wheat, but eventually became the main exporter of cider south of Mulberry.

Cave in the Bog of the Dead:

(MAJOR SPOILERS)

Where Steve and Kas found shelter after Kas was injured fighting a Nightwalker in 208 GC. Location where Steve learns the more about Kas' undead nature and their ally-ship is officially established.

[blairstales]

Beithir | Scottish Folklore

Within the highlands of Scotland, there was once folklore of a type of great serpent called Beithir.

"Beithir, adder, serpent, thunderbolt, lightning, a destructive deity dwelling in caves, corries, and mountain fastnesses." Carmina Gadelica, Volume 2, by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900]

It was one of the fuath, making it very dangerous, and was so large that it could eat several horses or cattle in one meal.

It preferred to lurk in dark places, such as caves, and had a bite with venom.

"Beithir was a venomous and destructive creature, who lived in dark caves and corries in the mountains. " Highland Mythology by Watson, E. C. (1908)

It was not one specific creature by the name, but instead a species.

Some were said to be killed, such as the one of Islay. It was first tempted by barrels of meat which were hiding spikes to be swallowed, then it was finished off by cannon-fire.

“The big beast of Scanlastle in Islay was one of this kind. It devoured seven horses on its way to Loch-in-daal. A ship was lying at anchor in the loch at the time, and a line of barrels filled with deadly spikes, and with pieces of flesh laid upon them, was placed from the shore to the ship. Tempted by the flesh, the ‘ loathly worm ‘ made its way out on the barrels and was killed by the spikes and cannon.” Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

There is one other tale in Popular Tales of the West Highlands by J. F. Campbell [1890], that mentions the Beithir. In this story, a boy is cursed by a shirt made of the skin of a Beithir.

The daughter of a wise woman falls in love with the boy, and agrees to several sacrifices in order to save him. So, the mother puts the boy into a cauldron with specific herbs, and the beithir transforms from a shirt, back into a serpant, and attacks the girl(as was expected). The girl cuts the beithir off (and her breast with it) and so the boy is freed from the curse.

They marry, she get’s a golden breast, then they go on adventures together.

Old Macdonald, travelling tinker, told me a long story, of which one scene represented an incantation more vividly to me than anything I have ever read or heard. “There was a king and a knight, as there was and will be, and as grows the fir tree, some of it crooked and some of it straight, and he was a king of Eirinn,” said the old tinker, and then came a wicked stepmother, who was incited to evil by a wicked henwife. The son of the first queen was at school with twelve comrades, and they used to play at shinny every day with silver shinnies and a golden ball. The henwife, for certain curious rewards, gave the stepdame a magic shirt, and she sent it to her step-son, ” Sheen Billy,” and persuaded him to put it on ; he refused at first, but complied at last, and the shirt was a beithir (great snake) about his neck. Then he was enchanted and under spells, and all manner of adventures followed but at last he came to the house of a wise woman who had a beautiful daughter, who fell in love with the enchanted prince, and said she must and would have him. “It will cost thee much sorrow,” said the mother. “I care not,” said the girl, “I must have him.” “It will cost thee thy hair.” “I care not.” “It will cost thee thy right breast.” “I care not if it should cost me my life,” said the girl. And the old woman agreed to help her to her will. A caldron was prepared and filled with plants and the king’s son was put into it stripped to the magic shirt, and the girl was stripped to the waist. And the mother stood by with a great knife, which she gave to her daughter. Then the king’s son was put down in the caldron, and the great serpent, which appeared to be a shirt about his neck, changed into its own form, and sprang on the girl and fastened on her; and she cut away the hold, and the king’s son was freed from the spells. Then they were married, and a golden breast was made for the lady. And then they went through more adventures, which I do not well remember, and which the old tinker’s son vainly strove to repeat in August, 1860, for he is far behind his father in the telling of old Highland tales. Popular Tales of the West Highlands by J. F. Campbell [1890]

[witchgaunt]

IRASCIBEL FACTS 2/?

In later life, around the age of 28, Irascibel takes up smoking clove cigarettes, but always uses a jade cigarette holder.

She does not participate in the Tri-Wizard tournament and makes everyone very aware that she thinks it's stupid and dangerous.

Irascibel marries red-haired Ravenclaw Elvie Fortescue in 1895 after courting for six years. She informs her parents of this during dinner at their home in Underburgh, which results in an explosive confrontation. Her mother remains silent through the whole thing, but Nereus is incandescent with rage. Irascibel leaves quickly, dodging her father's casts, and never sees them again. She goes to live with Elvie in a small Crofters cottage beside Loch Alsh between the Isle of Skye and the Northwest Highlands. Both Nereus and Joanna are dead by 1910, leaving the Gaunt family in the hands of Marvolo Gaunt.

Irascibel and Elvie sustain themselves by selling magical plants and regular produce to residents of the Highlands. Irascibel delivers orders via broomstick after the sun goes down.

While living beside Loch Alsh, Irascibel enjoys nothing more than sitting on the shores of the inlet and watching dolphins and porpoises swimming.

Irascibel shares her dorm with Imelda, Priscilla, and Nerida for all seven years at Hogwarts. Anne is also her dormmate up until fifth year (and returns at the beginning of sixth year if Anne's curse is lifted).

[shealwaysreads]

The Isle of Discussion

Drarry | 21k | historian!Draco, auror!Harry, love languages, sharing food, Scotland, friends to lovers, arguing in the rain, draco has a dog

Read on Ao3

Summary: Harry and Draco arrive at the shores of Loch Leven to record the magical history of the land. They’re friends now, but up there in the Highlands, amidst the trees and sky and that wild expanse of water their own past is more present than ever; a gap they still can’t bridge. Magic illuminates the truth, but it is Harry and Draco who have to speak it. Happily, it turns out that honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

Excerpt: The crack of Apparition still echoed around the glen as Draco strode towards the tiny cottage he had brought them to. Harry peered at the small building; it was squat and whitewashed, with a low slate roof and a neatly-kept garden surrounded by a stone wall. It was charming, and it was tiny. Draco had unearthed a key from underneath a plant plot and was already heading into the cottage, so Harry hurried after him.

Unlike every other magical property he had ever visited, this little bothy really was exactly as small as it looked on first inspection. The front door led straight into a tight kitchen-living space with a door leading to what looked like a twin bedroom. He assumed the bathroom was through there too. And that was it. A stone fireplace dominated the living area, with a mismatched but comfortable-looking sofa and armchair. It was small. Intimate. They would be living practically on top of each other for the next couple of weeks.

Read on Ao3

Written for @hd-wireless 2020, a self-prompt: Eurythmics - Here Comes the Rain Again.

As always, big juicy loving thanks to @tackytigerfic @maesterchill @bonesliketambourines and @p1013 for the amazing beta-reading and cheerleading through finishing this fic ❤️

[babylon-crashing]

Lochs are home to many watery spirits—most famously Lake Ladies, water maidens, water horses, and water bulls or faery cows. In times past, almost every loch had a type of water horse or other spirit that haunted it, sometimes more than one. Loch waters were used to break enchantments and for binding; they were also used as mirrors, and are used today in reflection magic. They are portals to the realm of Annwn and subterranean gardens, and home to the Gwragedd Annwn, the wives of the Underworld who belong to the Welsh fae called Plant Annwn, as well as many other mysterious creatures, including the famous Nessie.

It is said that witches lurked near  Loch Rannoch to harrass the English as they attempted to invade Scotland. Schiehallion Hill, a Caledonian faery hill, is the reputed home of an evil dog who appears from the shadows and follows those who approach the loch's banks. There have also been reports of a white horse that gallops out of the loch and across the moor.

Loch ma Naire was believed to contain waters that had healing value. It is said that if you entered its waters on the first Monday in August, they held curative properties and could help treat ailments. Dozmary Pool is said to be the pool where Sir Bedivere returned the famous sword Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. 

Loch Maree is located in the highlands and has an island in the middle of it. On this island is a well that was believed to have curative properties. Coins were left in a nearby tree as offerings, and the water was said to cure madness. (pages 90-91)

Annwyn Avalon. Water Witchcraft. (Weiser Books. 2019)

[buirbaby]

Thistle & Thorn: The Letter

Rating: General

Masterlist

Dawn always brought blisteringly bright sunlight with it, lancing through the sheer curtains and smacking Nessia right in the face. Summer in the highlands was mild, temperatures typically peaking just beneath 20°C (the 60s°F), the cracked window trailing in a refreshing breath of fresh air that caused the shades to dance. Rolling in her quilts, untangling herself from the fussed sheets, and nearly falling out of the bed to land upon the hard wooden floor, ivy green eyes peeled toward the window as talons scrabbled at the edge of the sill and an unfamiliar owl poked its head past the threshold and into her domain.

"Allo there," Nessia yawned, finally dislodging herself from the hazard of her restless sleeping arrangements. Her eyes pulled over the creature groggily, inspecting the tawny feathers banded with black, ear tufts quivering as the eagle-owl blinked pumpkin orange eyes at her. "Hae'na seen ye before. Post usually goes downstairs by the kitchen, big windows over the sink. Hoggle typically handles—" she explained, pausing when the owl offered a letter toward her. "Or is this for me?"

The owl preened, feathers lifting momentarily before it allowed her to take the parcel and bunkered down in the sunlight that streamed against the window, basking in the warmth.

Nessia hummed, turning the letter over before realizing what it was, her fingers becoming clumsy and wrists quivering in blistering excitement as she started to vibrate at the sight of the Hogwart's crest. Now, she'd known that one day that the school would send her a letter, just as all young witches and wizards in the area received one. However, she'd felt anxious because she didn't display her magic as brazen or spectacularly as Logan had when he'd been her age. Hoggle had told her all about how he'd caused a mess of the manor, from causing statues to come to life from laughs that echoed like lion's roars and knocked paintings from the walls. The most that Nessia had ever done was hiccup out a bumblebee, which Hoggle said was much more preferable to Logan's messes.

Breaking the seal, Nessia's eyes became watery, as if she'd gotten potting soil in them again from rubbing her face with filthy hands. This was no farce, written in beautiful emerald script was a letter addressed to her, welcoming her to Hogwarts for her first year, and hosting a list of supplies required as a student. Finding the acceptance form in the very back, Nessia scrabbled for an inkwell and signed her name, aware that the resting owl was roosting for the journey back and likely to also send her own reply so that she could officially be added to the roster. She wondered if anyone ever declined.

"Och," she placed the new letter before the owl, an orange eye blinking open suspiciously. "When yer all good and rested, can ye take this back? Ye can stay here as long as ye need. Here's some water too," Nessia grabbed one of her pails and filled a cup she had laying around in her room, pushing it up her desk toward the raptor. "Mind the plants, but make yerself at hame."

The owl shook its feathers out and gave a low, trilling hoot before bending down to lap up some of the offered water. Nessia took the pieces of parchment, threw on a proper dress—which was little more than a corduroy sack over her shift—and burst out of her room with more fervor than the typically quiet girl displayed. Sputtering around a corner, her socks slipped beneath her and she slid an extra few paces before a hand snapped out and gripped the bannister, redirecting her path so that she could sprint toward her grandfather's solar.

Located on the opposite side of the heirloom cottage, the home that she'd grown up in as long as she could remember, even when her parents had been alive. The MacDougal Manor, situated within the misty rolling hills of the Scottish Highlands, flanked by Loch Linsor and relatively removed from neighbors muggle and wizard alike. Despite the sheltered, rural location, the home was a hive of familiar faces including Hoggle, the house elf, to other friends and servants. In the lake was a pod of merrow, many of which didn't mind popping above the surface to spare an afternoon of conversation with Nessia, to their gardener, a centaur named Rowan who was estranged from the local clan and happily made his home amongst the MacDougal family.

Even if their own grounds were limited to those that worked and kept stock of the care and daily routines, they were often frequented by visits that related to her grandfather's connections. He had been an important man in his prime and despite the years of his youth slipping through the hourglass that was time, many still came to him for advice or whispering happenings within the shadows.

Being so early in the morning, Nessia hadn't expected it to be another day where Bhan was entertaining a guest, sputtering to a graceless halt in front of the oaken door wrought with intricately carved designs depicting the MacDougal alliance with the centaurs and merrow of this area of the highlands. Their family had always had close ties with other Beings (even if the merrow and centaurs disregarded this classification), including their own house elves which lived a much more comfortable life than most elves in similar positions. She had only just raised a tanned fist to knock upon the door when she overheard voices on the other side.

"He's escaped Azkaban?" it was her grandfather, Angus, hissing in frustration at the revelation. "How in Merlin's name? If I werenae so hoachin' I'd join the hunt for him meself. Where aboot did he get loose?"

"Further south and put a little more faith in the department assigned to hunt werewolves," the other person retorted calmly.

"Faith?" Angus huffed in indignation. "I had faith that the sleekit dug wouldnae escape from Azkaban in the first place!"

"Things happen, Angus."

"Things happen, me arse. When I worked for the Ministry this wouldnae happened. Folk be gettin' too relaxed noo that Ye-Ken-Who is pushing daisies. Noo the Ministry gets all gallus and let's a bloody lycan loose. How many ye think will be turned or killed, eh?"

"Angus, I only came here to deliver the news so you could keep your eyes and ears sharp. I doubt he'll come up here, not when there's nowhere to hide and far too many centaurs roaming the moors," her grandfather's companion sounded bone weary, exhausted by toiling with the idea that innocent people were going to be cursed, maimed, or killed.

"Makin' a habit o' eavesdropping?"

The sound of Hoggle's voice made Nessia leap up, fumbling her letters before giving the house elf a bashful, guilt ridden look. "I-I," she stammered quietly, worried that those inside the solar would hear her. "Got me letter to Hogwarts. I only wanted tae show Bhan."

"The MacDougal has a guest. Come downstairs fer now and break yer fast," Hoggle shook his head dismissively, but a tight smirk betrayed the elf's amusement by the girl's dolefulness. "A letter tae Hogwarts noo? Suppose it's aboot time ye had yer own turn there."

"Do ye ken anyone who works there?" Nessia trotted after the house elf, his ragged tartan swaying behind him, pinned in place by a rusty pennancular pendant that Hoggle took deep pride in.

"Got a few cousins who do work in the kitchens," Hoggle admitted, giving her a sideways glance. "Course they're nothin' like me."

"No one is like ye, Hoggle. Everyone's different," Nessia pointed out chipperly.

"Nay," he shook his head, batty ears swaying from their position where they'd been slicked back like hair. "The MacDougals are a fine clan. Good witches and wizards. Treat all their servants right. Hogwarts is good too, but... most places dinnae treat me kind like people. The MacDougal gae me a room, a stipend, clothes—this is a job. For other elves its servitude, slavery and they bow willfully. We were made that way... tae want tae serve. I wouldnae trade whit I hae here for anything. Me cousins... they're happy, because the folk at the school are kind and they dinnae ken better. So they might seem a bit odd compared tae me."

Nessia cocked her head, having never met another house elf aside from Hoggle. Truth be told, she thought all of the elves were servants who had their own respective quarters and free time. But slaves? Her wide lips pulled down in a frown and her steps started to trudge as she contemplated the situation others of Hoggle's kind might be subjected to. "I'm sorry, ye sound sad."

Hoggle blinked. "Is na yer fault, Nessie. Jus' the way things be."

"That's wrong though. Just like it's wrong that the centaurs and merrows are classified as beasts," Nessia huffed.

The house elf's lips tugged up in a smile. "World needs more witches who think like ye, Nessie. Be a much kinder place."

"World would be weak if it were more like me," Nessia muttered, mostly to herself as the pair stepped into the kitchen. Yet another one of her favorite rooms in the house, with high ceilings, a long table in the center of the room that functioned as both an island and where informal meals were hosted. With a wave of a knobbly hand, a stool danced toward Hoggle and he hopped up onto it.

"The world needs kindness, Nessie. It doesnae make ye weak," Hoggle assured her. "Yer bhan is kind."

"But he's also braw," she countered, plopping down on a barstool by the island.

"Och, yer bum's oot the windae, int it?" a third voice joined the conversation, the tall visage of her adult brother sauntering into view as he fixed his tie. The siblings, while having the same parents, reflected each parent in their own way. Nessia took after their mother, with tanned skin, thick curly black hair, and a flat nose-smattering her nose like a constellation was her father's Scottish freckles and the MacDougal green eyes were another telltale sign of her heritage. Whereas Logan was a shade fairer, strong jawed, tall and broad, a head of russet curls hashed with strands of auburn and gold. Whilst he looked more akin to their father, Bhan always claimed he had their mother's fire burning in his heart. Despite their differences, they did share their mother's nose.

"Ah umnae!" Nessia squeaked, cheeks darkening at the insinuation that she was talking rubbish.

"Whit hae ye got there?" Logan gestured to her folded parchment while he was adjusting the cuff links on his shirt.

"Oh! Me letter to Hogwarts," she stood on the pegs of the stool and leaned over the counter to wave it at him.

In just three strides, Logan met her and took the parchment from her, whistling low as he thumbed through it thoughtfully. "Who wouldae thought they'd accept a lil mandrake like ye. Did ye send a letter back sayin' ye'd only want tae study plants?"

"I can learn other stuff," Nessia grumbled, crossing her arms as her brother.

"Well, if that's the case, when ye get yer want, how aboot I teach ye some spells?" he offered, handing the parchment back and pouring himself a cup of tea that Hoggle had on the stove.

"I thought I couldnae practice magic outside o' school," Nessia recalled smartly.

"In front o' muggles. Otherwise, who's gaunnae stop ye? Most other students are na lucky enough to hae a big brother who's an Auror," Logan retorted glibly.

"Am not tryin' to be an Auror," Nessia reminded him.

"Och, yer too wee tae ken whit ye'd like tae do yet," Logan played off dismissively. "I do ken we hae a lot of the supplies ye need here—like the cauldron, scales, phials, telescope. I might even hae some of the books, I ken ye have the One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi one in yer room."

Nessia gave a stout nod, pleased that she wouldn't dirty new books, as she had the uncanny ability to smear dirt on them as well as the inclination to make notes in the margins. Even if the clan had a manor, comparatively Nessia wouldn't claim they were the richest or most influential family. Most of the sacred twenty-eight turned their noses up at the accepting tendencies the MacDougals practiced. They lived comfortably, but if items could be repurposed or recycled, there was no use in wasting it. Both Nessia and Logan had been raised to be appreciative of what they had, what they acquired, and to not discard belongings without regard. An old book still held the same words as a new one and personally, the old one had more character.

"Suppose I'll need tae get a wand and robes, ye were a skinny malinky longlegs when ye went tae school," Nessia pointed out.

Logan sputtered into his mug, Hoggle chortling at the description.

"Keep the heid, young master," Hoggle taunted before the man could offer rebuttal.

"Whit's this noo?" Heads swiveled in the direction of the voice from under the awning, Angus having his hands propped up on his hips as he surveyed the crowd and began carving his path toward the tea kettle. "Yer gaunnae be late fer work, eh?" he prompted, turning verdant eyes to pin Logan where he stood, still gobsmacked from Nessia's prod.

"It's an important day. Na everyday that yer little sister gets an acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Logan preened, taking a glance at his watch.

"Sounds like an excuse tae me. Whit time are ye supposed to be in?" Angus countered suspiciously.

Logan grumbled. "Och, I'll go!" With a snap the man's silhouette rippled inward and he disapparated from the kitchen, fluttering a nearby towel that was folded over the oven handle.

Plates were beginning to float from the stove, landing soundlessly on the island as Hoggle moved as if he were conducting an orchestra. Silverware, plates, and cups followed—the door banging open, followed by the clopping of hooves as Rowan entered.

"Mornin'," he greeted, pausing to wash his hands in the sink.

"So ye got yer letter to Hogwarts? Aboot time," Angus remarked, returning to the island to glance over the parchment. "Might be time tae head to Diagon Alley for the rest o' yer supplies. Hoggle, ye think ye can scrounge up the auld books? I ken Logan had a few of these."

"O' course," Hoggle agreed.

Diagon Alley had been a less than often frequented place of Nessia. To be honest, it was busy, overwhelming, and cramped. Nothing about London was favorable to her, especially when she was so accustomed to the wide open moors and the loch that spanned her home. Additionally, it was humid and frizzed up her curls, turning them into a deplorable helmet. Usually, she let her bhan go without her, but managed to suppress a sigh because she knew that this outing would result in acquiring one of the most important items as a witch: a wand.

"Dinnae look so driech," Angus chuckled.

"It's gaunnae be gross, I jus' ken it," Nessia pouted, spooning hash onto her plate and settling on a scoop of eggs to join it. "Hogsmeade is closer, innit?"

"Tis," Angus mused. "I jus' thought ye'd want the full experience."

Nessia arched a brow at him. "Full experience? I'd prefer na tae sweat me breeks off."

"Lassie dinnae care fer the Sassenachs," Rowan observed mischievously. "Cannae blame ye for that."

"Most o' yer peers are gaunnae be Sassenachs," Hoggle wagged a wooden spoon at her.

"Well, if I can put off meetin' em for as long as possible-" Nessia suggested lightly, shoving some food into her mouth.

"Feart not," Angus declined. "We're gaunnae go to the Alley."

Nessia let out a plainative groan and nearly choked on her eggs, chasing it down with orange juice. The rest of breakfast went on as usual before she was sent off to get ready for the afternoon. London was going to be quite a bit warmer than the highlands, which forced her to choose thinner robes that she preferred to wear. Bundling her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck to save her the embarrassment of it being frazzled to hell, Nessia slipped on a pair of Wellies and trundled grumpily out of her room, the owl having left before she returned.

Upon passing her grandfather's solar, Nessia paused momentarily to reflect on what she'd overheard. Lycans? Escape from Azkaban? She hadn't caught a name, but a shiver traced down her spine at the thought of werewolves roaming the countryside in search of unsuspecting victims. Living in the highlands, she was reminded duly of the protection she was afforded so far north, so removed, and by plenty of other creatures that would chase the werewolves across the moors before letting them bunker down and cause a ruckus.

Waiting by the main hearth, Angus had already dressed in his afternoon robes, including a small sash in the clan's tartan which slashed across his breast. Adjusting his balmoral cap, his heavy brows raised at his granddaughter.

"Try na tae look too enthused," he retorted sarcastically, mustache twitching up at the 11 year old's dismay.

"It's gaunnae be driech, Bhan," Nessia whined, dipping her hand into the basin filled with Floo powder. "And they talk weird."

"Whit if we're the ones who talk weird?" Angus challenged.

"Doubtful," stepping into the fireplace, the sand sifting between her fingers, Nessia tossed the powder down with pizzazz. "Diagon Alley!" Careful to speak clearly, envious green flames lanced up in front of her, obscuring her vision completely. Holding her breath to prevent breathing in the fumes and ash, she narrowed her eyes in an effort to witness her voyage up out of the tippy top of her home's chimney. Arms pinned, up becoming down, skipping from north to south, Nessia groaned when she made impact with the public fireplace of the Alley.

Immediately, she was rebuffed by the humid air of London, the cool and refreshing summer of the highlands replaced by an unusually hot day, peaking at the high 20s (nearly 80F). Pushing a few stray curls from her forehead, Nessia grimaced and stepped out of the way as the chimney above her thundered with the warning of another traveler approaching. Never a pleasant experience, her nose wrinkling as she huffed a sneeze and barely managed to move as a wizard threw a haughty glare in her direction. Rolling her eyes, she waited another moment before her grandfather materialized, dusting off his robes and tartan, ruffling his mustache and sneezing just as loudly as she had.

The mimicked fashion made her grin widely and he chuckled. "Blasted Floo. Never been tae fond of it," he grumbled, striding up to meet her.

"I dinnae think anyone 'likes' it, Bhan," Nessia pointed out to his chagrin.

"Shoulda just disapparated," he muttered, rubbing beneath his nose again. "Noo, where do we need tae go?"

Unfolding the list from her pocket, Nessia could already feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. Maybe she'd worn too heavy an outfit, the corduroy like a smothering blanket amidst the humidity. Thank Merlin Hogwarts was in Scotland. "Robes, parchment, note books, a wand-" she recited, aware that most of the other supplies could be scavenged around the MacDougal grounds. Hand-me-downs didn't bother her too much, though it wasn't as if they couldn't afford newer items; Nessia just didn't see a point when there were perfectly good ones at home.

"Generic supplies," Angus admitted. "Och, well let's get started then. Get ye some robes, 'course yer wand—it's the most important item ye'll get. Maybe if yer not too cheeky, we can stop for some icecream."

Nessia beamed in spite of the blistering weather and flanked her grandfather as they started through the brimming streets of Diagon Alley. From the sloping roofs held up by only magic, defying gravity's expectations, to the gayly hued robes that bespeckled the populace, she settled into the hum of activity. From the freshly baked pastries that filled her with fragrant thoughts of Hoggle making holiday desserts to the owls ruffling their feathers within their cages, she relaxed slightly, keeping close beside her grandfather who parted the crowd as if he had a wand out and was thrusting folks aside. Be it the prowess the broad man moved with or just the heavy expression he always wore, most steered clear of the highlander. He was easily recognizable from his hints of traditional garb and the pride each shoe fell with.

Nessia wished she possessed an ounce of her grandfather's confidence or vindication, but as close as they were they couldn't have been more unlike each other. He was outgoing, strong, ambitious, wise, and willful. Nessia was quiet, reclusive, and shy. Only those that she knew did the girl have the heart to sass, but under the scrutiny of strangers she felt nervous and sweaty. The sheer idea of having to go to school without him made her falter. For today she should have been rejoicing, as excited as the other children around her that she would be going to school soon and beginning the next endeavor of her life. Truthfully, Nessia was terrified.

"Bhan, whit house do ye think I'll be in?" she asked him as they continued down the road toward the wand shop.

"Dinnae, bit o' a toss up for ye. Yer smart, so maybe Ravenclaw. Yer also too nice fer yer own could, ye could be in Hufflepuff," he answered honestly, which made her frown slightly.

"Weren't ye in Gryffindor, Bhan?" she prompted.

"Aye, do ye think ye'll be put into Gryffindor?"

Nessia wanted to be in the same house as her grandfather, almost as if it'd prove that there was more to her than the demure plant-loving witch, but she didn't think herself very brave. Just contemplating how desperately she wanted to be in the house made her eyes prickle with tears, which she quickly blinked back. "I hope Ravenclaw," she decided, knowing that Logan wouldn't let her live it down if she got placed into Hufflepuff. Not that the house sounded bad, but when her family came from a long history of Gryffindors, it made her balk at being placed in the 'softest' house at Hogwarts. After all, she was a highlander and only Ravenclaw or Gryffindor would do.

"Dinnae fash. Ye'll do well wherever ye are, lassie. Ye ken I'm proud of ye, even if ye got placed in Slytherin. No house will change me mind," Angus assured her, tapping her on her nose, having noticed that she was fighting back tears.

The shop in front of them was dusty, but then again, many of the store fronts around here were. It was strange, considering how busy Diagon Alley was, that time was rarely allocated to clean off store fronts or afford a new repaint. Considering all it would take was a swing of a hand or wand to set brooms or dustpans to work, Nessia cocked her head as she stared at the grimy pillow in the display and itched her nose at the anticipation of stepping into the shop. Hoggle would have lost his mind.

Bell tinkling upon their arrival, Nessia shielded her eyes—not because the shop was particularly bright, in fact it was rather dim. No, it was the chain reaction that her presence caused, a box on the wall jetting out amongst the rank and file and pinging right into the side of a rickety desk. An elderly man jumped, his thin white hair going astray as he glanced from the box, the mess the wand had created by acting so spryly—spilling at least two dozen others from the wall—before bending down to pick it up.

"Mr. MacDougal," the shopkeeper smiled, placing the box up on the counter and glancing between them. "I don't think either of you will be spending very long here."

"Nice tae see ye, Ollivander," Angus greeted, palming his granddaughter's back and thrusting her forward from where she'd frozen. "Seems yer wands got minds of their own."

"I see it... from time to time," he smiled gently, turning his wizened eyes down toward Nessia. "This must be Nessia? You look a lot like your mother when she came to get her first wand."

"You remember her?" Nessia's trepidation was trumped by the man's memory of a mother she barely recalled. Both of her parents had been killed when she was little, amidst the wizarding war that had made for a tumultuous childhood for her.

"I remember every person I sell a wand to," Ollivander winked, lifting the lid to the box and revealing a wand. "She had a 12", dragon heartstring cored wand, made from red oak. A very handsome wand."

"Whit happened with that wand?" Nessia inquired, gesturing to the one that had flown clean off the shelf.

"Ah, well let's take a look," he picked up up, holding it to the oil lamp beside him, scrutinizing the ribbing and the fine lattice work of knots around the grip. "Made from vine. They have a tendency to display their attraction to potential partners. I've only seen it happen a few times before, but they're not always quite a brash as this one."

At the insinuation that the wand had reacted to her, Nessia's tanned cheeks darkened and she sputtered. "M-me?"

"Certainly not your grandfather. I'm afraid this wand would not suit him," Ollivander betrayed. "This one has been collecting dust for a while. A very long while," he insisted, reaching over to offer it to Nessia. "I made it many years ago, while I was still experimenting with other cores aside from dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix feathers. Honestly, I thought it might never sell. Griffin feathers are quite particular, perhaps even more so than phoenix feathers. Prideful creatures."

Accepting the wand, a tingle lanced up her hand, into her elbow, and caused the girl to shudder all over as if a strong gust of cold highland wind had knocked right through her. She could smell the rain on the moors, fresh air whistling through her thick curls, and roasted apples over a fire. A smile curled her lips and she opened her eyes to glance curiously at the wandmaker.

"A perfect fit," Ollivander declared. "It would seem MacDougals are always the quickest shops. I seem to remember when my father had a wand nearly jump into your hands, Angus."

Her grandfather snorted, removing his wand to offer it to the artisan, who ran his fingers along the wood with a sad, but pleased reminiscent expression upon his face. "Nessie's a MacDougal through and through," he puffed up in pride. "Griffin feather, ye hear? Makes sense, a good deal of griffins migrate to the highlands in the warmer seasons."

Always having felt that maybe being a witch was not suited perfectly for her, Nessia clutched the wand. She couldn't have wished for anything more than this perfect union with the unique wand. A tendril of confidence bolstered the girl's frail spine and she grinned up at her bhan. A griffin feather? Of all the cores, she wouldn't have expected such a braw one to choose her, but her heart soared like the creature it was made from.

"I always thought your core was so strange. How my father managed to acquire will-o-wisps and fashion it into a wand always eluded my skill," Ollivander commented, turning Angus' wand over a few times. "I would have expected the reverse for the two of you, but such rare cores are fickle and don't sell often enough to warrant making them in masses. I realized this once I had taken over, but it still warms my heart to see these wands finally find their partners."

"Served me well, it has," Angus assured him. "And dinnae forget that I wasnae always how I am noo. Nessie's got a much better head on her shoulders than when I was a lad," he patted his granddaughter affectionately.

"You were a bit naive if I recall correctly. Bright eyed and bushy tailed," Ollivander chuckled, returning the wand as he began drafting up a hand written receipt.

"Bhan?" Nessia gasped, as if the idea of her grandfather being anything other than the strident retired Auror that she'd known for the entirety of her life.

"We all grow up, Nessie. I was no exception," he mused, mustache twitching in amusement. "Mr. Ollivander is one of the few who still remembers. Though I hae no doubt Professor McGonagall might as well. We went tae school together."

"I think there are still quite a few more who do, but you're unwilling to admit," Ollivander smiled. "That'll be 10 galleons."

Mr. Ollivander packed up the wand for Nessia, which he shared was about 13.5" and had a relatively hard flexibility to it, but he assured her that the wand was rather delighted to have her. Keeping the bundle tucked close to her chest, she followed her grandfather through the streets which had only grown more busy and sweltering as the afternoon peaked. Past the shops with the pets again and to the robes shop. They passed the front of a second hand store, about to continue when a voice called out.

"Oh! Mr. MacDougal—"

Nessia didn't recognize the voice as one of the typical visitors to their homestead and glanced up inquisitively toward her grandfather who froze and wrinkled his nose. A bemused smile tucked on her face as he turned mechanically and forced a pressed, but polite look onto his face. "Allo there," by the second hand shop was a man with a head full of bright, coppery red hair. "Been a while, Arthur. How's the Ministry?"

Arthur was tall, had a face full of freckles, and beamed excitedly up towards Angus. Beside him were two boys, both of which appeared to be of similar age to Nessia, but she didn't know for certain. Just as ginger as their father, they spared her curious looks. One tall, the other a little shorter and broad. Subconsciously, she waned toward her grandfather, but still stared nonetheless.

"Not half as well since you left for good, but it's nice to see you. I hear you don't often leave the highlands, so I'm surprised to see you in London," Arthur admitted politely. He didn't look like an Auror, but Nessia supposed that was a rather rude thing to think by assessing his weathered robes.

"Me granddaughter, Nessie, starts Hogwarts this year. We came tae get the last few things we needed. Logan had quite a bit o' supplies she can put to good use again," he patted her back. "These yer bairns?"

"Ah yes, my eldest Bill, who is in his third year. My second eldest, Charlie, is starting this year. Perhaps the two of you will be in the same classes or house," Arthur suggested, motioning to his sons respectively. "Boys, this is the legendary Auror, Angus MacDougal. He headed the Aurors for many years, fought against Grindelwald and helped during the Wizarding War with intel. I'm surprised you didn't stay around, join the Wizengamot-"

"Bunch o' pompous pr-" Angus started at the mention of the Wizengamot, cutting himself off before he cursed. Nessia snickered behind her hand. "Ah, too many years workin'. Aboot time I enjoy me home, avoid the stress of the Ministry. How's work been for ye, Arthur?"

"Good!" Arthur chirped, but even Nessia caught the fleeting anxious look on the man's face and her grandfather stiffening. "Busy as always," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, it was nice to see ye. Nessie and I still hae to get some supplies before headin' back north. Tell Molly and the other bairns I've said allo."

"It was nice tae meet ye," Nessia squeaked quickly, following Angus' lead, but still finding her manners. "I'll see ye at school."

"Will do. It was nice to see you," Arthur said, parting ways.

Once out of earshot, Nessia glanced up at her grandfather. "Ye dinnae seem tae happy to see him."

"Arthur is... very passionate," Angus grumbled. "He's a good man, but he's obsessed with muggles. Half the time I see him, I worry I'm gaunnae be stuck listening to him prattle on for hours."

"Oh, he's not an Auror?"

"Oh, nay, nay," Angus shook his head. "Works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Tae be honest, that department's a bit ignored and underfunded... Ministry doesnae see the importance of it much, but we could learn so much from the muggles if we allowed our folk to study with better pay. Used to run into him when I grabbed me morning tea. Realized who I was, was a bit feart at first, but warmed up when he realized I wasnae gaunnae bite his head off. I suppose many other Aurors got their heads far up their own arses. Think they're better than people like Arthur. If any of them had as much passion for their job as Arthur, perhaps we wouldnae had so much of an issue with dark wizards like Ye-Ken-Who."

"Clan MacDougal always mingled with muggles."

"Aye, before Catholicism took hold. We had tae hide our abilities after, but we remained friendly with the muggle clans in the highlands," he added duly. "But not every wizardin' family thinks the same as we dae."

"I ken," Nessia shuddered. "That's why ye never accept those invitations that come from those other families. The Malfoys? Rosiers?"

Angus hummed in agreement. "Jus' posturin' to them. 'Look at what we have', when they dinnae work a day in their lives. Jus' takin' up space and lookin' pretty."

"They dinnae work? Whit do they dae?"

"Merlin kens," Angus rolled his eyes.

Madam Malkin's had a violet store front, a dapper, well dress family in the store display. She thought this one was considerably less dusty, as the mannequins were probably changed out enough that they didn't have enough time to collect half as much dust as the pillow in Ollivander's window. A plump, bright witch hummed around the shop and had her laden with packages as Angus commented about how thick the cloaks were and that a true highlander wouldn't need these to brave the winters in Scotland. While growing rosy cheeked at her grandfather's complaining, they acquired the necessary materials and hurried to collect the last few miscellaneous items. Without having to struggle with books, a cauldron, and the other items they had at home, they were able to easily settle down at the ice cream shop for a much needed treat amongst the heat of a strangely warm afternoon in London.

The path to the Floo hearths was a little choked up, various other patrons just as eager to head home after a successful day in acquiring their needs on Diagon Alley. While waiting in line, Nessia glanced up toward Angus.

"Bhan, we dinnae hae tae come back here, dae we?" Sweat was pouring down her neck, trickling down her back.

"Nay, not til September when ye hae to catch the train."

"The train!" Nessia whined. "But Hogwarts is not too far frae home."

"It's aboot the experience. Ye may meet yer best friends on the train," Angus wagged a brow at her.

Grousing quietly to herself, Nessia didn't shed light on the anxiety she felt surrounding the idea of having to find somewhere on a train to sit, let alone deal with not knowing a single soul. Sure, she knew the names of those two boys, but she didn't know them. To be fair, she didn't really know anyone. It was easy to get lost amongst her jungle at home, the pages of her journal, and the garden outside. There was Hoggle, Rowan, and Logan. Plus the merrow in the loch, which were quite conversational once she'd learned how to understand them. The centaurs were a bit standoffish, but they'd been polite to her.

Hoggle had located the books she needed for school, a couple of which were nearly falling apart because Logan had abused the spines. While the pages were intact—minus his maddened scribblings in a few books—she had to do some repairs of her own to prevent them from breaking further and threatening to actually spill necessary reading material everywhere.

"Knock, knock future Puff," Logan announced his presence, rapping upon the frame of her open door as he poked his head into the jungle.

"Och, ye dinnae ken that yet," Nessia huffed, blowing a few strands of hair from her face as she was sewing another binding back into place.

"Where else would ye go?" Logan stepped in, teasing his younger sister. "Ooh, sorry there. Those look as if they've weathered bein' beat by hippogriffs."

"Oh, yer sorry? Might've fixed 'em before ye handed em down tae me," Nessia quipped, but honestly wasn't that upset. The books still functioned.

"Well, how aboot I make it up to ye?" he offered.

"Ye gaunnae buy me new books?"

"How aboot I do ye one better? Ye got yer wand today, didn't ya?"

Opening the box in front of her, Nessia pulled out the pale wooden wand. "Aye, but I'm not supposed to practice magic outside of school."

"Not around Muggles," Logan corrected. "And if I remember correctly, there arenae any here. Yer perfectly allowed tae practice at home and we're quite remote. If anyone questions it, ye got me to vouch for ye."

Her brother's beguiling reassurances did little to quell the twanging nerves, plucking like an out of tune violin as she contemplated taking the bait. "Whit are ye gaunnae teach me?"

"A few defense spells—Och wait!"

"I dinnae need those. I'm not ye! I'm not gaunnae get into any fights—" Nessia objected immediately.

"Better to ken them and not need them than to be dumped on yer arse. Yer a MacDougal. Like it or not, we have a reputation to uphold and while Bhan will not say anything aboot it, I want to be certain no one picks on ye," Logan interrupted, raising a hand to deflect her disquiet.

"No one is gaunnae pick on me," Nessia snorted. "It's not like when ye went to school."

"Slytherin is still just as nasty as when I went. Yer better off, Nessie."

He wasn't going to drop it, causing her to groan at his insistence. "Fine, but I ken I'm gaunnae be foul at spellwork. Never been good at it before."

"Ye never had the chance tae really try. C'mon, let's go oot in the garden."

[berrodarmstrong]

Bloodblade’s End.

The time had finally come. After months of whittling Gunnar's empire down to him alone, those who opposed him finally learned of the old man's location -- deep beneath the Lochs of Ala Mhigo. Deeper than even the ruins of Skalla. In a cavern below the sunken ravine he had amassed his considerable strength, likely waiting to be confronted.

The call went out and forces assembled -- first at Porta Praetoria in the Lochs. There Berrod explained to those present the...interesting means of entry to the cavern far below -- to climb the stairs of the Divine Audience...and leap from the top to the ground below. It sounded a bit fishy, but having tested it twice, Berrod was...rather sure.  As Berrod, Cerina, Evening, Milo and Tarot waited for stragglers to arrive, a bright beam of levin shot upward from Loch Seld and travelled rapidly southwest.

After a few linkpearl calls made in an  attempt to track the anomaly, Berrod received the information he needed -- whatever that beam was, it ended up near the Sunken Temple of Qarn. Another call for assistance went out, and so Hammersmith, Shizu and Ominious went to investigate.

That left the group at the Lochs ready to delve down. Autgar joined them and together they set off to the Divine Audience to make that jarring jump. One by one they flung themselves off of the edge and plummeted down to the salty ground below...only to end up flopping harmlessly onto the floor of the deep crystal-lit cavern below.

The dim expanse welcomed five of the six who had taken the jump. Berrod was nowhere to be seen -- and to make matters worse, Gunnar himself stood before them, welcoming them as an old man would welcome grandchildren. He made one last offer of reconciliation -- one that was promptly refused by all. With overportrayed regret, the elderly Highlander prepared to enter combat -- just in time for Osric to drop in and join the fray.

Gunnar opened with mudras that saw him split into two, each of which stood poised to take on half of the team. The group was packed with strong fighters, however, and made a mostly successful initial assault. Tarot decided to scout around the cavern, looking for anything of note -- and any sign of Berrod to boot.

Evening, Autgar and Cerina bisected their target, while Milo took an arm and shoulder off of his. Osric stood back to prepare his own assault. From the damaged bodies sprang blood red crystal which immediately set to work on the man's regeneration. The group would not have it.

Tarot in the meantime had come upon a well in the ground that was filled with what very much looked and smelled like blood. Without missing a beat, he poured a paralyzing potion into it and set it on fire. It began to bubble and roil rather violently. Back at the main group, the fighters did what they could to destroy as much of that red crystal as possible, as well as assault the mostly intact double. Osric had finally readied his own move, and summoned arcane geometry that was brought to bear against the old man.

The effect of it was profound -- the majority of Gunnar's aether was rippped from him and contained separately in a head-sized, floating black sphere. Aether had also been pulled from the well of blood; Milo observed that it was all composed of the souls of the people -- mostly children -- Gunnar had killed. Regardless, a great deal of it had been separated from the old man, who emerged and fell to the floor in a state of genuine shock.

While Osric moved to try and keep that aether sealed and Tarot continued his search for Berrod, Milo set to work on an attempt to destroy the blood well -- an effort that saw the emergence of the golem Bobo. His focus on destruction did not change, and so he attempted to shear it away with potent flame.

The other members of the group were perhaps just as shocked as Gunnar, and hesitated...mostly. Autgar did not, and attempted to kick the man down. It prompted a violent response; Gunnar stabbed him through the foot and performed a hasty summon.

Of all the things to have brought to his side he summoned Ulfarr, who he expected to attack the rest of the group in a rage. Ulfarr immediately turned on him and erected an earthen barrier between the pair and the rest of the group to cause Gunnar excruciating pain through their connection -- as well as attempting to drain what aether he had left. His actions alarmed the rest, who began to assault the earthen barricade in order to gain access to them both.

Their combined efforts provided an opening, through which Autgar managed a fatal blow -- a blow that was made possible through Ulfarr's incapacitation and aether drain of the older man. It left Ulfarr in a rather awkward position, and assailed with questions from the others.

It was in that moment that Ronsen entered the cavern with a terribly injured and unconscious Berrod in tow. He beseeched Tarot to tend to him, then approached Osric and the ball of aether with a request to have it destroyed. Osric had begun to give way, but Tarot seemed to have gleaned that Berrod's condition was suspicious. Blunt wounds...tears on his face, and a pleading mumble. He turned and yelled for the group to -stop- Ronsen, while himself moving to temporarily blind the man. It gave Evening, Autgar and Osric the chance to plant themselves between Ronsen and the ball of Gunnar's aether.

It was then that the elder monk showed his true colours. He tried to destroy it by firing a punch through Osric, but failed to do so completely, only nicking a bit of it off. Milo tried to destroy it himself, but was intercepted as the elder launched an extremely -rapid- attack on almost all members of the group present. Only Milo and Tarot were spared -- Osric and Cerina seemed to take the worst hits. The speed of his manoeuvre allowed Ronsen to take what was left of the aether and crush it -- but by then it was too late. The damage he had done to it before had ruined its integrity. Gunnar's aether was no more -- but the group had an entirely new enemy to face.

Ronsen moved toward the pit where the blood well had been -- evidently the exit from the cavern. Evening, Cerina and Milo moved to intercept, while Osric beseeched Cerina to take his knife and strike Ronsen with it. Evening managed to impale the older monk, while Milo attempted to blast him with dark magics. To his surprise, Ronsen blocked with dark magic of his own - though Cerina's axe saw a quick fall to that defense. Impaled, blasted and sheared, the man still -lived-. It prompted Milo to try to seal him -- to which he responded by bringing the cavern down. What queries Milo had remained unanswered, as a tearing removal of Evening's sword robbed Ronsen of his ability to speak.

Oda arrived in the cavern and began to urge everyone -out-. Tarot did not hesitate, leading most of the group into the pit, where they fell down, down, down...only to emerge in the waters on the surface of the Lochs. Ulfarr and Autgar remained in the cavern as it began to flood and had a final altercation. In the end, Autgar came up to join the rest. Ulfarr had escaped through other means, it seemed. Exhausted and wounded, the group recovered on the salty earth below the Divine Audience -- and tried to grant reassurances to Berrod, who seemed to have been left...rather broken by whatever he had experienced in Ronsen's company.

Either way, Gunnar Bloodblade was gone, and his entire empire toppled. What became of Ronsen no one could say -- but if he emerged again, there would be every effort made to put him down.

@dynamitecowboy @newmoonwarlock

@crooked-tarot-rp @the-batcams

@embracetheharvest @cfs-melkire

@anunlikelyknight @flamesonhammersmith

@shizu-moshroca (Not sure if Ominous has a bloggo!)

@i-zex

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Not an ask but just a bit of kudos, I am really diggin "Tales from the Past". I'm very curious to see if Claire thinks it all a big coincidence and how Uncle Lamb will react to all of the info they find? Thank you for the lovely writing.

Tales From the Past | Part I, Part II

Scotland was unlike anything I had ever seen before.  The land was an unbelievable shade of green and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The image I had of my witch and whisky maker family fit perfectly within this landscape. The rolling hills leading to towering mountains, and the glistening lakes reflecting the scenery around them gave the air of magic and endless possibilities. The deeper into the Highlands we travelled, the easier it was to see how the Scots, and my Scots in particular, transitioned and settled in the mountains of North Carolina. There was a familiarity between the two, but whereas Scotland felt old and full of legends, the North Carolinian mountains had an air of youthful mystery in comparison.

“Are we there yet, Uncle?” I asked as yet another town flashed beyond the car windows.

“Not yet my dear. We’ll be there in no time at all, just enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could come up with your own legend by the time we get to our destination!” He cheered then went back to humming a nameless tune.

I sighed and looked longingly out the window. I just wanted to be there, I wanted to see their home and find out more. “Are we going to Broch Morda and Lallybroch?” I asked not five seconds later.

“No, Claire.” Uncle Lamb said with authority. “We’re headed to a town called Inverness. My correspondent who can trace their lineage back to Lallybroch itself lives there. She’s more than willing to tell her family stories and that of her husband’s as well.”

“Fine.” I grumbled, “I still wish we were going straight to Lallybroch. Something is pulling me in that direction, we need to go there.”

“Patience my dear, we will get there, just after we’ve heard what these Murray’s have to say.” Lamb winked.

Inverness was beautiful, tucked away at the top of Loch Ness I could see the appeal and history all around, but I was restless.

“How long do we have to be here?”

“Long enough,” He laughed guiding me towards the door. “I thought you wanted to hear the legends?”

I groaned, “I do but I want to go see Lallybroch more!”

“Let’s see what they have to say first. We’ll need their story to help further our investigation, despite your curious insistence!” Uncle Lamb cut me off before I could speak further.

“Fine,” I murmured into my arm that rested on the door. My excitement crushed for a moment.

The countryside blurred by until the faintest idea of a town sprung up in spires and stone.

“Inverness?” I asked looking to at Uncle Lamb. He grinned and nodded, weaving our way through the streets to the tea room where the mysterious Murray’s awaited our arrival.

“Here we are, m’dear!” Lamb exclaimed throwing the car door open. “Would you get my satchel from the boot? We may need to take photographs and extra pens and paper! You never know what all they’ll have or have to say!”

His excitement was contagious and I felt my own lift to a nervous bubble. I still longed to see the fabled home, but deep down I knew I needed to hear what the Murray’s had to say.

“Are you Quentin Lambert?” A tall and lanky man with jet black hair and gray eyes asked as he approached our car.

“That I am! You must be Alexander Murray,” Lamb greeted, clasping the man’s hand.

Mr. Murray chuckled and nodded. “Aye, and this is my sister Jennifer.” He gestured to short girl with the same black hair and gray eyes.

“We’ve already got a kettle on, please join us inside.” Her smile was kind, but wary.

“Claire! Don’t forget the books!” Uncle Lamb called from over his shoulder absentmindedly as he entered the quaint stone building.

I took a moment to breathe in my surroundings. The bustle of people and their cars contrasting against the ancient stone buildings. If I closed my eyes and blocked out the modern sounds I could believe I was there when it all began. I could feel the clean Scottish air as it wrapped itself around me and those on the streets, smell the the roasting meats from taverns and hearth fires as well as fresh bannocks and bread, and I could imagine the sounds of wagon wheels and horse’s hooves on cobble and splattering mud. My imagination took me to a world where I could imagine my whisky making Scot walking down the street, and with a swish of a kilt he was gone.

“Miss Beauchamp?” I jumped, startled, my eyes flying open as the pack fell to the street. “Och, sorry. I dinna mean to give ye such a fright. Yer uncle was asking for ye. I came to fetch ye inside.”

My cheeks reddened from getting caught in my fantasy. The real world felt foreign and distant compared to where my mind had just held me. I slowly retrieved Uncle Lamb’s bag and followed Jennifer Murray inside.

“Claire! Claire! There you are, what kept you? No matter, you really must hear what young Mr. Murray has told me about his family! There was a tale that originated from a great uncle of sorts, and that very uncle could be the James Fraser we are striving to find! But I’m very much more fascinated in this enthralling tale of a cave, espionage and freedom! Please, come sit. Sit and listen!” Lamb managed to get all of this out in a single breath, his face red, but eyes alight with excitement. I noticed his hands were already ink-stained and smudged, his left worst of all.  

“Breathe Uncle.” I said, laying a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sure Mr. Murray doesn’t wish to recount the tale again.”

“I dinna mind at all! Would ye like some tea before I start?” Alexander Murray gestured to the barely touched tray of tea and shortbread.

“Yes, thankyou.” I replied, pouring my own cup and grabbing a biscuit.

“As I was telling your very enthusiastic Uncle, my family has many tales and legends as does most here in the highlands. But one, we can go so far to say, is one of the more famous ones.” he said lowering his voice with a wink. “This one legend was said to be the Laird of Broch Tuarach during the uprising of Prince Tearlach in 1745. It’s said that the Laird was spared at the battle of Culloden or most likely escaped the clutches of the British and fled back to his homeland. His hair was a fiery red, easily spotted and gave him little chances to hide. My–” he paused and then gestured to his sister, “–our great-great-great grandmother was this Laird’s sister. She hid him in a priest hole that her recently dead sister-in-law had told her to build. You see the Laird’s wife was a Sassenach and a faerie.

“The folk in the highlands were wary of her and her healing abilities, even though the laird loved her more than life. She was among those caught in the crossfire of Culloden. The Laird being so distraught had nearly given up the will to live and when he was well enough to stand, decided to hide in the hillside to better protect his family.”

“Och! You’re tellin it wrong Sawny!” Jennifer interrupted.

“Och aye? Am I? Weel why dinna you tell it then and let me save my voice!” he said and smugly crossed his arms and legs into a relaxed position.

“I will then!” She settled herself deep into her chair.

“As my brother said, our great-great-great grandmother was the sister to the Laird who became legend, and it is from her that we get our story. Before the days of Culloden and the blackened soul of Prince Tearlach set this bonnie nation into strife, the Murray’s and Fraser’s lived peacefully on the estate. The young Laird had taken a faerie to wife, but all that knew her well enough said she was kinder than of any fae, and that she loved the Laird and his family to the ends of time. It was when she caught a vision of great strife and suffering for her beloved’s people, she told her good sister to plant crops that would yield a great amount, and prepare hidden storages including a priest’s hole under the kitchen cellar. The fae and her husband rushed out to protect the people and try to stop the horror she had seen from coming to fruition.

“They had earned the trust of Prince Tearlach, and made their way into his inner council. Night after night, day after day, the Laird tried to convince the Prince of his doomed cause, but to no avail. The horror still approached and overcame the people of this good nation. Killing thousands, destroying homes and the highland culture at it’s roots. The faerie wife, so distraught at the destruction of her adopted home, begged for her people to save the Scots, to turn back time and not let it happen, but they didna answer. Instead, it’s said she curled up on a faerie hill just outside Inverness and died of a broken heart. Unable to save her beloved nor her new people, and the old ones wouldnae have her back.

“However, the Laird did survive! He made his way home to Broch Tuarach where his sister tended to his physical wounds, but nothing could take away the pain he felt at the death of his wife. He hid for months in the priest’s hole, listening to raid after raid from the British soldiers and he could have it no more. He was too much of a danger to his family, and he couldna bear to lose another part of his heart. One night, he hid himself deep into the caves of the hills that surrounded his property with naught but a dun bonnet to his name. Just far enough that he would pose no danger, but close enough that if he was needed, he could be called upon. For seven years he hid by himself in the caves, coming out at night, clad in brown from head to toe, hiding the flames of his hair under bonnet and cloak of night to deliver fresh meat of his kills to his people and family.

“The Laird’s most faithful servant would risk his life week after week to bring the Laird fresh ale, clothes, and news of the town and of his family when the laird could not make his way down the mountain. On a day, not unlike today, where the sun shone high and the temperature mild, the servant raced up the hill bringing his lairdship fresh supplies, only to be stopped by a wicked cluster of British soldiers. They accused the lad of stealing and chopped his hand off for his crimes, then stole the Laird’s supplies for their own gain. Outraged the Laird tended the lad as best he could in the cave before taking him to the estate for proper healing. It was then the Laird decided that his time in the caves were at an end. He had to stand, he needed to fight the cruelty and oppression being imposed on his people.

“Seven years since the uprising, and there was still a traitor’s reward for the Laird. The laird asked his brother-in-law to turn himself in, grab the stirling reward and feed the family and people he could no longer protect.”

Jennifer stood up and went to the window. I blinked trying to come back to the world around me. The tale she had spun so vivid in my mind, like that was the true reality and not this tea parlour.

“What happened to him? The Laird?” I asked, desperate to hear more.

She turned, the light a halo around her silhouette, “The Dun Bonnet Laird went to prison to save his family. If you go back to our family’s ancestral home and speak to the locals they may tell you of him in a different way, the story altering from family to family. But one thing is for sure, they say on the old fire feasts, ye can see the Dun Bonnet standing at the mouth of his cave, keeping his vigil for all who are under his protection.”

[chriskarrtravelblog]

BRITAIN’s top luxury stays for groups

The best, big British boltholes for entertaining a group of family and friends in complete luxury

Planning a family get-together, a special party or a blow-the-budget birthday weekend away with friends? You’ll need space, and plenty of it. We’ve cherry-picked the best options for group and celebration stays, from dreamy cottages to stately mansions for a weekend to remember.

The Oaks

Ever dreamt of being lord or lady of your own Georgian pile? There’s no better place to live out the fantasy than The Oaks, a handsome Grade II-listed mansion near Faversham in Kent. The six ample, light-filled bedrooms are awash with period features, from original shutters to marble fireplaces; the vast master bedroom on the top floor has a claw-foot tub and views of the leafy garden. It’s a house made for entertaining – and celebrating – with a vast dining room off the country-style kitchen, a grand sitting room with a log fire and your choice of comfy sofas and armchairs, and even a kids’ playroom for the younger members of the party. Perhaps the house’s finest feature, though, is its garden: a handsome walled affair with beds of roses, mature trees and plenty of shady nooks in which to park your sun lounger. If you can bear to tear yourself away, the cathedral city of Canterbury is just 11 miles away, while Whitstable, 10 miles away, has plenty of salty charm, with its oyster stalls and busy harbour lined with fishing boats.

Winterfell

© Unique Home Stays http://www.uniquehomestays.com/+44 (0) 1637 881183

Anyone who’s ever been to the Lake District could be forgiven for wanting to move there permanently, such is the spell it casts. Tranquil Windermere is one of the Lake District’s loveliest corners, and the perfect place for a group get-together, whether or not you plan to pack your walking boots. Our pick of the places to stay is Winterfell, a magical, ivy-clad hunting lodge nestled in forested hills and set in six acres of private grounds on the lake’s southern shore. Entering the house is like stepping into a Narnia-like landscape, where snowy white, warm grey and bare wood combine with an abundance of texture in throws, rugs and cushions to create a beautifully cosy and romantic interior. The six double bedrooms boast ornate fireplaces and rococo beds. While away hours in the library, cook up a feast in the cosy kitchen or wander the grounds: a walled garden leads to four acres of meadows where nothing will disturb you but birdsong.

The Lady Hamilton

If you’re looking to escape to the southeast coast, plump for Deal, Kent’s prettiest seaside town. Its narrow streets brim with nautical heritage, it has two castles to explore (Deal and nearby Walmer), and it boasts an array of characterful restaurants and independent boutiques too. Tucked away on a side street just a minute’s walk from Deal’s shingly shoreline is The Lady Hamilton, a stunning Georgian townhouse that’s full of period features. Wood panelling and floorboards give it plenty of creaky charm, but it’s far from stuck in the past: colourful accents and bright art give it a warm, home-from-home feel. Set over three floors (it sleeps 8), the house is anchored by its winding staircase, taking you from the ground floor to the pièce de résistance– a gorgeous wood-panelled sitting room, with squishy sofas, a snug wood-burner and sash windows overlooking the rooftops. Books and board games are provided for relaxing evenings. On sunny days, the walled patio garden is a little haven – an ideal place to gather for drinks after a day on the beach.

The Fish Store

© Unique Home Stays http://www.uniquehomestays.com/+44 (0) 1637 881183

Cornwall is always a safe bet for a crowd-pleasing holiday: with its enchanting coastline and unspoilt villages, it has all the ingredients for a memorable stay. Large rental houses can be thin on the ground so we were pleased to discover The Fish Store, which sleeps up to ten guests. Set in Mousehole, one of Cornwall’s loveliest villages on Cornwall’s south coast, it was a pilchard factory in a former life – hence the roomy interiors. Everything’s on a giant scale here: the lofty beamed ceilings, the vast windows – and the views of the ocean beyond. It’s a house ideal for all ages, with a cinema room where you can gather for a family film, a table tennis table that the kids will love, and a steam room where you can unwind after a day’s exploring. The delights of the Cornish coast are all within easy reach, from swimming in Mousehole’s sheltered bay and wandering its winding streets to exploring nearby St Michael’s Mount.

Loch Lomond Manor

Loch Lomond: even the name is enough to inspire romance. This historic manor house with its five fairytale turrets is just the ticket. Recognised as a National Monuments of Scotland house, it is ideal for history and architecture buffs, being situated just 500 metres from the famous Hill House, designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Facing the Clyde Estuary, the house is also ideally located for strolls along the banks of Loch Lomond, a round of golf on one of the famous courses nearby, or day-trips into the Highlands (it’s at the start of the highland train line, putting Oban and Fort William within easy reach). Inside, all is on a grand scale, from the sofas to the bathtubs, and there are plenty of spaces for a large party to gather – the light-filled drawing room, with its tapestries and Edwardian fireplace, is hard to beat. Sleeping up to 10, Loch Lomond Manor makes a stylish stay in this beguiling part of Scotland.

Shalfleet Manor

If you have a big party to accommodate, consider Shalfleet Manor in the Isle of Wight, which sleeps 16-22 guests and is a stunner to boot. A wisteria-covered stone manor set in mature gardens, it is a dreamy place to spend a few days. Inside, a grand hallway, wood beams and a panelled living room with a 17th-century fireplace set the tone. It’s just one of many corners to snuggle up with a book or catch up over drinks – the airy conservatory and sun-trap terrace are tempting too. It’s a house made for lounging, but make time too for some outdoor pursuits: tennis on the all-weather court or a few laps of the heated pool, encircled by mature shrubs. Further afield is Newtown Creek, a sleepy spot where you can moor your own little boat, plus the wider delights of the Isle of Wight, from Queen Victoria’s Osborne House to sandy beaches galore.

Bear’s Cottage

Norfolk is strong on otherworldly landscapes, and the unique Bear’s Cottage offers a rare chance to truly get away from it all in fairytale surroundings. It’s set in 200 acres of private woodland, planted in the 1850s and crisscrossed with private trails for exploring. The cottage, which sleeps 8, has a warm and cosy feel, and has been thoughtfully restored to open out its spaces. Its open-plan kitchen, dining and living area allows the designated chef to cook up a storm without missing out on the action, while the large south-facing terrace is the perfect spot for alfresco lunches. Days can be spent exploring the rural village of Wood Norton and the renowned beaches of North Norfolk – some of England’s loveliest.

READ MORE: 10 of Britain’s best hotels for Valentine’s Day

The post BRITAIN’s top luxury stays for groups appeared first on Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture.

Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture https://www.britain-magazine.com/features/britains-luxury-group-stays/

source https://coragemonik.wordpress.com/2020/02/12/britains-top-luxury-stays-for-groups/

[cynthiabryanuk]

12 Best Hiking Holiday Destinations In The UK

If you’ve got a love of the great outdoors and a sense of adventure that’s itching to be unleashed, then a hiking holiday is for you. It’s not only amazing exercise – the breathtaking views you’ll discover en route are well worth the hard work. Challenge yourself to scale a mountain or take things slow with a stroll in the forest. Whatever your age and ability, a hiking holiday is sure to leave you feeling refreshed and inspired.

Top hiking holidays in the UK

After a long day of walking, put your feet up at your own private holiday rental. Whether you love the peace and quiet of a cottage tucked away in a sleepy village, or want to spread out in a spacious townhouse with pubs and restaurants nearby, Holiday Lettings has got it covered.

*Methodology: We analysed all UK holiday rental reviews on TripAdvisor. (Holiday Lettings is a TripAdvisor company). Selected hiking destinations needed to be among some of the highest-rated in the country (minimum 100 lifetime total reviews), and have a sufficient amount of properties available to book on Holiday Lettings.

#1 Drymen, Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park

The beautiful village of Drymen in Stirling is the ideal base from which to enjoy one of Scotland’s most stunning National Parks. Whether you’re new to walking holidays or you’re an experienced hiker, there are routes to suit all abilities. For a strenuous (but exhilarating) hike, ascend the Sron a’ Chlachain peak for glorious views of Killin and Loch Tay. Or if you want to take things easy, stroll through planted forest and native woodland at Acharn Forest. There are so many options when it comes to walking in this area. And, with cosy boltholes or even modern cottages nearby, you’ll be spoilt for choice for rentals, too.

Pick a place in Drymen

#2 Carlisle, Cumbria

Welcome to the charming Carlisle – Cumbria’s charming cathedral city. The surrounding Lake District has been inspiring poets, artists and writers for hundreds of years. It’s easy to fall under its spell when you look out over the mountains in this breathtaking part of the world. Experienced hikers will probably be keen to scale the world-famous Scafell Pike with its wild and rocky terrain, while those looking to follow in William Wordsworth’s footsteps should wander over to Ullswater to laze on a riverbank and watch the daffodils. And after a day spent exploring the beautiful waterfalls and woodlands nearby, why not put your feet up in your own private holiday rental? From lakeland stone townhouses with exposed beams to quirky cottages on the outskirts, there are lots of options in Carlisle.

Choose your favourite place to relax in Carlisle

#3 Bangor, County Down

The beautiful seaside town of Bangor is perfect for mountain holidays as there are so many places to explore nearby. The imposing granite tors and lofty peaks of the dramatic Mourne Mountains will take your breath away, and the Glen River walk is a great way to see this range in all its glory. Wildlife enthusiasts and those walking with children should check out the Quoile Pondage Nature Reserve on the outskirts of Downpatrick. Your pedometer will be stacking up the steps without you even realising it as you’ll be busy spotting colourful wild roses, rare species of birds and wildfowl. And if the sea is your ideal backdrop for a hike, the North Down Coastal Path is the place for you.

See all rentals in Bangor

#4 Ullapool, Scottish Highlands

From a gentle amble along the Fife Coastal Path to a hefty hike on the Great Glen way, the Scottish Highlands has some of the best walking routes in the world. A rental in Ullapool is a great choice as you can enjoy walks along the traditional harbour or tuck into some hearty pub grub to refuel after scaling the slopes of nearby Stac Pollaidh. If you love discovering historical sites, choose a route past Melrose Abbey or follow the Cateran Trail to discover ancient tracks used by cattle rustlers (Caterans) who plundered glens from the Middle Ages to the 17th century. When you’re ready to rest, a cosy cottage rental or a secluded cabin in the woods awaits!

See all stays in Ullapool

#5 Dumfries, Dumfries and Galloway

Expect a warm and friendly welcome when you stay in Dumfries. This pretty town was once home to the poet, Robert Burns. Nearby, you’ll find atmospheric forests, rugged hills and picturesque villages, so you’re sure to find the perfect hiking route for you. Take a stroll along the Solway Coast to the Merrick, or maybe try the popular hill ascent above Loch Trool. If you need some refreshment, you’ll find plenty of traditional pubs and quaint cafes on the way. This area is beautiful all year round, so why not book a romantic trekking holiday this autumn?

Book a break in Dumfries

#6 St Agnes, Cornwall

With over 300 miles of coastal path and 2,400 miles of inland trails, Cornwall is a hiker’s paradise. One of the best places to stay if you’re looking to make the most of these trails is St Agnes, due to its proximity to some of the best walking routes. The Pendennis Point, Falmouth to Maenporth route on the south coast is great for all ages and abilities and includes impressive views south towards the Lizard and east towards Plymouth. For (even) more stunning scenery, head to Widemouth Bay and walk to Pentire Point. This Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty on the north coast will leave you feeling refreshed and revived. You’ll find these routes and many more when you book a hiking holiday in Cornwall.

Find a holiday rental in St Agnes

#7 Brecon, Brecon Beacons National Park

Lush green glades, sparkling waterfalls and magical caves make hiking holidays in the Brecon Beacons feel like you’ve stepped into a fairy-tale. The town of Brecon is the perfect base for exploring the 600+ miles of bridle paths and tracks that criss-cross this area. Take some binoculars with you to get a good look at the Red Kites as you walk; these magnificent birds of prey are now common in the region. For a little light refreshment, enjoy a freshly made scone at one of the pretty farmhouse cafes in the area. After a day spent in the great outdoors, you’ll love returning to your tranquil cottage to relax before dinner.

Book a break in Brecon

#8 Chipping Campden, Cotswolds

Whether you relish the challenge of hiking up a hill or want to take it easy with a gentle stroll, the Cotswolds is rich in hiking and walking opportunities. The utterly charming village of Chipping Campden boasts some of the best holiday rentals in the area, so it’s a wonderful place to choose a classic cottage to rent for a relaxing getaway. There’s also a variety of circular walks which include level and stile-free routes ideal for wheelchairs and easy access.

If you’re feeling energetic, why not complete the Cotswold Way National Trail? This 102-mile route takes walkers through some of the Cotswolds’ best scenery with historic monuments and pretty villages en route. The rolling hills and lush woodland surrounding Chipping Campden is sure to make any hiker or keen walker want to return again and again.

Choose a holiday rental in Chipping Campden

#9 Winchester, Hampshire

For lovers of history and architecture, Winchester is an excellent base for a hiking holiday in Hampshire. Visit The Great Hall where you can see an interpretation of King Arthur’s round table, head to the bustling cultural quarter of the city where you can watch a play or listen to live music. But don’t forget the surrounding landscape: Hampshire has some of England’s most inspiring countryside where ancient woodlands, secluded valleys and open down lands sit side by side. Popular routes in the area include the Clarendon Way, the Wayfarer’s Walk and the South Downs Way National Trail.

Book your hiking break in Winchester

#10 Welshpool, Powys

This pretty market town in Wales is famous for its elegant Georgian buildings, Montgomery Canal and the 17th-century Powis Castle and Gardens. It’s a great place to stay when you’re hiking in the region. If you’ve never experienced the thrill of climbing to the summit of a mountain, Pen y fan is a good place to start. Or for a nice easy walk long the lake, hike along Llyn Safaddan in Llangorse where you can enjoy a picnic as a reward at the end. You’ll find a wide array of rentals in the area, from log cabins to converted barns, so picking a place to stay is easy.

Find a wonderful walking holiday in Welshpool

#11 The Lizard, Cornwall

This picture-perfect peninsula in Southern Cornwall is perfect for a hiking holiday. You have some fantastic inland trails and coastal paths right on your doorstep! For an easy but rewarding hike, start at the impressive Lizard Lighthouse, Tennyson’s “Southern Eyes of Britain”. You’ll also see the huge conical hole in the cliff top know as ‘Lions Den’ created when a sea cave collapsed in 1847. The Old Coastguard lookout on this route is still manned and, as you head into the more remote sections of the Cornwall Coast Path, you will be logged in as you pass. At the end of a day outdoors, there’s nothing like kicking back and relaxing in the cosy atmosphere of your private rental.

See all holiday rentals in The Lizard

#12 Fort William, Lochaber

Known as the gateway to Ben Nevis, this beautiful town has plenty of independent shops and restaurants, so it’s a great place to base yourself for a walking holiday in the area. If you love expansive beaches, take a walk along the Ardnamurchan peninsula with its fabulous views of The Small Isles and Ardnamurchan Point. Shell collectors will love it here, too, as the white sandy beach is strewn with sparkling treasures. And, of course, Ben Nevis will be a major highlight for hiking enthusiasts during their stay.

Find a rental in Fort William

The post 12 Best Hiking Holiday Destinations In The UK appeared first on Holiday Lettings Blog.

from News And Tips For Traveling https://blog.holidaylettings.co.uk/best-hiking-holiday-destinations-uk/

[eveatkinsonart]

Hogwarts Castel Model | Art Department | WB Studio Tour | FMP

The jewel in the crown of the art department is the intricately detailed model of Hogwarts castle. Built for the first film, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the model's every courtyard, tower and turret were filmed and enhanced with digital effects to create unforgettably realistic views of the magical school. Footage of this meticulously built model was combined with digital effects to create unforgettably realistic views of the exterior of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A team of 86 artists and crewmembers built the first version of Hogwarts castle for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. To make Hogwarts appear even more realistic, artists rebuilt miniature versions of courtyards from Alnwick Castle and Durham Cathedral, where scenes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone were shot. The Hogwarts landscape is inspired by the Highlands of Scotland, including the regions of Glen Nevis, Glen Coe and Loch Shiel. Model makers installed more than 2,500 fiber optic lights, which simulate lanterns and torches and even gave the illusion of students passing through the hallways. Artists also used real gravel for rockwork and boulders, and real plants for landscaping and trees. The work on the model was so extensive that if one was to add all the man hours that have gone into building and reworking the model, it would come to over 74 years.

This was one of the most breath taking stunning things i had seen. It came at the very end of the tour, as you rounded the corner you were met by this huge model. The lighting changed light to dark, so you could see the castle day and night. In the darker lights the inside of the castle was lit with tiny lights representing students moving throughout the castle.

[giacarangiphotos-blog1]

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles.

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles. Why do not you try kayaking or canoeing? This article will share you with more perfect kayaking trips worth doing. (1) Canoe Safari in Mana Pools National Park, Zimbabwe, one of 10 games reserves in Africa. Safaris are quite complex on this scale these days, but for those who have a passion for canoes and love for wild animals, you can not go wrong. Paddle through still water in Mana Pools and watch elephants, hippos and hordes of buffalo from coarse Canadian canoes on the river ... (2) Kayaking Milford Sound in New Zealand - If you are going to New Zealand there is no excuse for visiting Milford Sound on the South Island. Most people see here by boat, but why not take a kayak and experience the glorious beauty? With waterfalls that fly down clean cliffs and vast mountains, which provide amazing backgrounds, this Mother Nature is at its best. (3) JohnstoneStrait Kayak. This area of ​​water, in northern Vancouver Island, Canada, is well-known for its annual visitors - Killer Whales, or Orca. Seeing these amazing creatures upfront have been evaluated out of this world work. And if the wildlife is not enough to make the appetite, there is a rocky coastline with many piers and beaches to explore, as well as dense rainforest in the country for hiking. (4) Sea Kayaking in Greece - climate, food, rich history and amazing beaches, Greece is the perfect destination for summer holidays. The small island of Milos, a 4-hour ferry trip from Athens, is one of the jewels in the country's crown. With over 130km of coastline to explore and over 150 sea lanes, it's enough for an adventurous sea kayaker to explore here. With an abbey-like roof, a fascinating pathway and a dark tunnel to investigate and some great snorkelling too, this is a hidden gem. (5) Kayak Twin Lakes in Alaska - Lake Clark National Park in southern central Alaska is made of green-blue lakes and dense spruce and forests. This is a true wilderness, with dramatic mountains and a lot of wildlife, including bear and a caribbean. There is a solitude of kayaks here that is so appealing. Outside, peaceful and wild, kayaking on one of two large lakes here is not about adrenaline but takes in a remote and terrible landscape. (6) Galapagos Racing - With over 100 holes and cranks to explore is enough scope to get into the battle and away from tourists hoards to places that big boats simply can not reach. In both sea and land is a fascinating number of plants and wildlife to discover and in an area that has seen such environmentally friendly utilization, a survey of own steam with paddling will have an insignificant effect on the wildlife. (7) Kayaking in Mexico - Cortez, from the Bay of Baja in Mexico, is home to nearly 100 islands, all surrounded by crystal blue sea. Loreto Bay, within the ocean, is designated the Unesco World Heritage Site and is there to protect the wonderful marine life found there. Kayaking here in winter is all about whales. Blue whales, more than five hours longer than the average sea kayak, move to these waters, along with smaller, but no less wonderful relatives, knuckles, fancy and Sei whales. (8) Kayaking Turkey's Coast - Rocky Coastline The Turkish Coast of South-Western Turkey provides a great destination for seafarers - recruits and intermediaries. It is true diversity to find her, with quiet holes, high cliffs and secret caves. The Taurus Mountains form an impressive background and the coastline is divided by sandy beaches, where turtles crawl up the night to lay the eggs. (9) Kayaking on the Scottish Highlands - Highlands, in Northern Scotland, are dramatic locations for kayaking, with lochs and stunning coastline to boot. The Forth of Lorn offers one of the world's best kayaking venues, with rocky holes and challenging races to navigate. Crags and dark caves can be expected, with ever-changing weather that adds to excitement and challenge. Not for the faint heart. (10) Canoeing on Amazon - Based in north-eastern Ecuador, the Aguas Negras River is in the middle of Cuyabeno Reserve. This is removed and turned off the track at its best. With flooding of woods and lakes connected to the water, you can run into the rain so the modern world is far behind you. Add to it, parrots and dandelions fly cost and dolphins, anacondas and caimans in water and you have a beautiful magical trip online tv show

[dreamersdolls-blog]

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles.

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles. Why do not you try kayaking or canoeing? This article will share you with more perfect kayaking trips worth doing. (1) Canoe Safari in Mana Pools National Park, Zimbabwe, one of 10 games reserves in Africa. Safaris are quite complex on this scale these days, but for those who have a passion for canoes and love for wild animals, you can not go wrong. Paddle through still water in Mana Pools and watch elephants, hippos and hordes of buffalo from coarse Canadian canoes on the river ... (2) Kayaking Milford Sound in New Zealand - If you are going to New Zealand there is no excuse for visiting Milford Sound on the South Island. Most people see here by boat, but why not take a kayak and experience the glorious beauty? With waterfalls that fly down clean cliffs and vast mountains, which provide amazing backgrounds, this Mother Nature is at its best. (3) JohnstoneStrait Kayak. This area of ​​water, in northern Vancouver Island, Canada, is well-known for its annual visitors - Killer Whales, or Orca. Seeing these amazing creatures upfront have been evaluated out of this world work. And if the wildlife is not enough to make the appetite, there is a rocky coastline with many piers and beaches to explore, as well as dense rainforest in the country for hiking. (4) Sea Kayaking in Greece - climate, food, rich history and amazing beaches, Greece is the perfect destination for summer holidays. The small island of Milos, a 4-hour ferry trip from Athens, is one of the jewels in the country's crown. With over 130km of coastline to explore and over 150 sea lanes, it's enough for an adventurous sea kayaker to explore here. With an abbey-like roof, a fascinating pathway and a dark tunnel to investigate and some great snorkelling too, this is a hidden gem. (5) Kayak Twin Lakes in Alaska - Lake Clark National Park in southern central Alaska is made of green-blue lakes and dense spruce and forests. This is a true wilderness, with dramatic mountains and a lot of wildlife, including bear and a caribbean. There is a solitude of kayaks here that is so appealing. Outside, peaceful and wild, kayaking on one of two large lakes here is not about adrenaline but takes in a remote and terrible landscape. (6) Galapagos Racing - With over 100 holes and cranks to explore is enough scope to get into the battle and away from tourists hoards to places that big boats simply can not reach. In both sea and land is a fascinating number of plants and wildlife to discover and in an area that has seen such environmentally friendly utilization, a survey of own steam with paddling will have an insignificant effect on the wildlife. (7) Kayaking in Mexico - Cortez, from the Bay of Baja in Mexico, is home to nearly 100 islands, all surrounded by crystal blue sea. Loreto Bay, within the ocean, is designated the Unesco World Heritage Site and is there to protect the wonderful marine life found there. Kayaking here in winter is all about whales. Blue whales, more than five hours longer than the average sea kayak, move to these waters, along with smaller, but no less wonderful relatives, knuckles, fancy and Sei whales. (8) Kayaking Turkey's Coast - Rocky Coastline The Turkish Coast of South-Western Turkey provides a great destination for seafarers - recruits and intermediaries. It is true diversity to find her, with quiet holes, high cliffs and secret caves. The Taurus Mountains form an impressive background and the coastline is divided by sandy beaches, where turtles crawl up the night to lay the eggs. (9) Kayaking on the Scottish Highlands - Highlands, in Northern Scotland, are dramatic locations for kayaking, with lochs and stunning coastline to boot. The Forth of Lorn offers one of the world's best kayaking venues, with rocky holes and challenging races to navigate. Crags and dark caves can be expected, with ever-changing weather that adds to excitement and challenge. Not for the faint heart. (10) Canoeing on Amazon - Based in north-eastern Ecuador, the Aguas Negras River is in the middle of Cuyabeno Reserve. This is removed and turned off the track at its best. With flooding of woods and lakes connected to the water, you can run into the rain so the modern world is far behind you. Add to it, parrots and dandelions fly cost and dolphins, anacondas and caimans in water and you have a beautiful magical trip online tv show

[yourmarlllina-blog]

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles.

Kayaking is considered one of the favorite activities that look like a pack of pringles. Why do not you try kayaking or canoeing? This article will share you with more perfect kayaking trips worth doing. (1) Canoe Safari in Mana Pools National Park, Zimbabwe, one of 10 games reserves in Africa. Safaris are quite complex on this scale these days, but for those who have a passion for canoes and love for wild animals, you can not go wrong. Paddle through still water in Mana Pools and watch elephants, hippos and hordes of buffalo from coarse Canadian canoes on the river ... (2) Kayaking Milford Sound in New Zealand - If you are going to New Zealand there is no excuse for visiting Milford Sound on the South Island. Most people see here by boat, but why not take a kayak and experience the glorious beauty? With waterfalls that fly down clean cliffs and vast mountains, which provide amazing backgrounds, this Mother Nature is at its best. (3) JohnstoneStrait Kayak. This area of ​​water, in northern Vancouver Island, Canada, is well-known for its annual visitors - Killer Whales, or Orca. Seeing these amazing creatures upfront have been evaluated out of this world work. And if the wildlife is not enough to make the appetite, there is a rocky coastline with many piers and beaches to explore, as well as dense rainforest in the country for hiking. (4) Sea Kayaking in Greece - climate, food, rich history and amazing beaches, Greece is the perfect destination for summer holidays. The small island of Milos, a 4-hour ferry trip from Athens, is one of the jewels in the country's crown. With over 130km of coastline to explore and over 150 sea lanes, it's enough for an adventurous sea kayaker to explore here. With an abbey-like roof, a fascinating pathway and a dark tunnel to investigate and some great snorkelling too, this is a hidden gem. (5) Kayak Twin Lakes in Alaska - Lake Clark National Park in southern central Alaska is made of green-blue lakes and dense spruce and forests. This is a true wilderness, with dramatic mountains and a lot of wildlife, including bear and a caribbean. There is a solitude of kayaks here that is so appealing. Outside, peaceful and wild, kayaking on one of two large lakes here is not about adrenaline but takes in a remote and terrible landscape. (6) Galapagos Racing - With over 100 holes and cranks to explore is enough scope to get into the battle and away from tourists hoards to places that big boats simply can not reach. In both sea and land is a fascinating number of plants and wildlife to discover and in an area that has seen such environmentally friendly utilization, a survey of own steam with paddling will have an insignificant effect on the wildlife. (7) Kayaking in Mexico - Cortez, from the Bay of Baja in Mexico, is home to nearly 100 islands, all surrounded by crystal blue sea. Loreto Bay, within the ocean, is designated the Unesco World Heritage Site and is there to protect the wonderful marine life found there. Kayaking here in winter is all about whales. Blue whales, more than five hours longer than the average sea kayak, move to these waters, along with smaller, but no less wonderful relatives, knuckles, fancy and Sei whales. (8) Kayaking Turkey's Coast - Rocky Coastline The Turkish Coast of South-Western Turkey provides a great destination for seafarers - recruits and intermediaries. It is true diversity to find her, with quiet holes, high cliffs and secret caves. The Taurus Mountains form an impressive background and the coastline is divided by sandy beaches, where turtles crawl up the night to lay the eggs. (9) Kayaking on the Scottish Highlands - Highlands, in Northern Scotland, are dramatic locations for kayaking, with lochs and stunning coastline to boot. The Forth of Lorn offers one of the world's best kayaking venues, with rocky holes and challenging races to navigate. Crags and dark caves can be expected, with ever-changing weather that adds to excitement and challenge. Not for the faint heart. (10) Canoeing on Amazon - Based in north-eastern Ecuador, the Aguas Negras River is in the middle of Cuyabeno Reserve. This is removed and turned off the track at its best. With flooding of woods and lakes connected to the water, you can run into the rain so the modern world is far behind you. Add to it, parrots and dandelions fly cost and dolphins, anacondas and caimans in water and you have a beautiful magical trip online tv show