Spiritual Forums - Spirits Journey Forums
Would you like to react to this message? Create an account in a few clicks or log in to continue.

The Merlin Story

Go down

The Merlin Story Empty The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on October 19th 2010, 4:18 am

Hello again me, and anyone who cares to read...I thought I should move my mammoth debacle on the Merlin thread and continue along some spot else...here looked like a good place. I can't imagine I shall ever finish it, but I might.


The singley most annoying part of things was the fruition. There were no strings to tie up and no excuses. Everything was concluded for better or worse.

As he sat poking holes into a squill with the tip of his thumb nail, his voice started to warble and, bereft of all enquiry to be able to retrieve the words to describe this, you shall have to imagine that it was as if a cleft in his vocal chords produced a double bow and his breath, on the exhale at first and then terrible shrilly and sweet on the inhale, was able to produce the most unusual atellation (wow, I didn't know that word existed, think it means fine tuning related to structure or something - couldn't find it).

In an unceremonious bark at the end, his crasciato broke off into some loud and compulsive coughing - his lungs were still in poor shape, but improving. Olandes had put him onto a regular inhalant and he was force feeding himself agrimony to combat chills, keep down the activities of bacterial communities in his passages, and to provide some kickstart to keeping him off the calf stack/stoke (his suporific smoke).

Olandes, in all his fine sentiments would oft say to the effect, '[Fag, your awful, your awful (in a teasing tone), hmm, you namby pamby sickle and cleave (Moroccan sack for potatoes used for bagging a few balls] Teg amber toq (you slice me up by the look of your round head - circumcised di*khead- and something to do with sheep). Von egharsen blechen vas stober inga foots-calven [close down in your] clan deferens [yokel term: balachs fargen!](You sucking mongrel, I hate your guts that were breathed into you by your marauding father {uncle more like it -mother's brother}. Your killjoy of an appendage typifies your stag crest. You can't open your eyes save for them billing out smoke. Dog peat! ) Stich mon, sittensoep tch flincer ter pordehendroner dopinahm spokr helios fraischel-lei-soepr singer da houmer (If I catch you again... I will let you fall like a clover on a table of lady's green fairy dresses laid out) {then he would crack up laughing, tousle and kind of shove Margwynn's head, offer him something to eat or whatever}.

God! he was so excited having this unreal nincompoop of a black wool [tampon] to hang out with. Olandes had been quite devoid of close friendship for 17 yrs in general but even more so for the last twelve. Margwynn, was not so impressed. As a man of few words, he seemed happy enough to tag along if he didn't have to work to hard at anything. In silence though, Margwynn was recouperating, collecting his thoughts, his self esteem, and his progress towards a star (a belated birthday, [his sweetheart gone 17 nay nearly 19 now, surely]...21 in fact). Cerenwyrs (or similar, pronounced Kirin-whars).



sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by Spirit-Being on October 19th 2010, 6:39 pm

Very Interesting sweet green ginger Hugs

Many Blessings

_________________
The Merlin Story Asymbo10
Spirit-Being
Spirit-Being
Founder
Founder

Male
Number of posts : 2292
Age : 45
Location : Hamden, Connecticut
Hobbies : Reading, Creating Things, Music, Meditating, and Being a part of Nature
Appreciation Points : 2726
Registration date : 2008-09-14

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on October 19th 2010, 8:40 pm

Ty Spirit-Being,

I spent many hours last night looking into this name Cerenwyrs. I am forming a faint suspicion as to its significance.

In particular i found to my increasing interest, some references to a poem,'Marwnad Gwen', Myvyrian Archaiology, and stuff surrounding guinevere. But not in relation to Cerenwyrs in particular, only this that as soon as I wrote it I felt a prompt to consider the name in relation to Guinevere.

As it turns out (info from celticnet.org.uk and upteen other sites), Gwenhwyfar's sister is Gwenhwyfach mentioned briefly in the Welsh triads and the tale of Culhwch ac Olwen. Gwenhwyfar means something like white/blessed the great, and Gwenhwyfach means white/blessed the lesser.

Now when I broke up Cerenwyrs to try and get a handle on her name, I came across some limited reference on the net about wyrs actually relating to worse, or not as good, and possibly in the accent in may have been actually pronounce whars, in that pommy kind of swing on things. I'm Australian so we say a derelict version for worse, to the effect of wers not 'whars'. It seems to me that 'worse' could be associated with lesser, although hwyfar is supposedly mainly, 'smooth, soft' and not necessarily, greater. I'm wondering if the meaning is that Gwenhwyfar is the greater because perhaps she is the older, more beautiful, or more authentic in terms of lineage, or something to do with refinement of pure of inheritance and therefore greater. Gwenhwyfach being maybe the second daughter, the younger sister perhaps, or for some other reason may in distinguishing terms be called the 'lesser'. I cannot significantly connect Gwen to Ceren though.

And further it is significant to me, this poem, 'Marwnad Gwen'. My current suspicions is that this is Merlin, Margwynn as I have been calling him, and Guinevere, Gwenhwyfar, is actually Margwynn's first wife. I have to look into it more but I think Gwenhwyfar (meaning white/holy the greater) is actually first wife. I think Margwynn, last part Gwynn, is Gwen, and hwyfar, I suspect is first wife. Consequently, I think Gwenhwyfach is Gwen's second wife (the lesser) and the two are not necessarily sisters, but probably still are.

Anyhow, I shall no doubt come back to this idea.

I am wondering if Cerenwyrs is Gwenhwyfach.
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on October 25th 2010, 12:20 am

still rambling,

there are references online to Gwen being Arthur, or rather 'arthuc'. The 'Marw' stuff means death or to die. Marw is associated with the city of Merv or a lesser town connected called Marw and these names are associated with other names like moors, moro, mouros etc and they were known as black people connected to the Marw/Merv town/city on the Murghab river in an ancient area of Turkmenistan, but the Marws also spread into northern Africa.

So these people spread along the mediterranean, and even Mauritius is associated with mawr, and the moorish variations of the word. Apparently the Roman/Greek name for Mawr was Margiana (Greek: Margos) and was at one stage under Byzantine rule. The Byzantines thought of themselves as Romans.

'Myvyrian' of Wales is probably associated with Merv as well.

'Romans' occupied areas around Morocco. This is the Roman connection for Margwynn, not actually Italy as I originally thought before looking into it. In Morocco there are business squares/areas called Medinas. Quite awhile ago I thought the word was Modinas - I think. I think both are valid. Medina is also a place in the region of the Marws. Modinas is the spelling of the extended family name but it signified an elite faction of the Medinas which incorporated several surnames under like a signatory of business alliance - or some such.

I can't understand yet why Marw is associated with death. I'm wondering, if the Moorish nature as an ethnic prototype, tends towards ruthlessness and being cutthroats - like the idea of Margwynn's father. 'Marw' was under Sassanid rule for quite some time and the word 'assassin' or 'saracen' is connected to this. In Northern Africa there were 'Roman' mercenaries at large. Margwynn's original bodyguard offsider in the beginnings of the story was from the Barbary coast and was a bit like a cutthroat pirate. I think assassin meaning someone who kills, may have been shortened up in connotation to mean death, or to die as the welsh form of the word becomes, Marw - death, or to die.

Secondly, 'Ceren' would not have to be associated with Gwen in sameness at all. Cerenwyrs, as a first name may have been given to a second sister like I have outlined. 'Ceren' may have been the first sister - I don't know though so I will proceed to find out.

Let me now suppose on Cerenwyrs.....


'Ante-haven beks caul vasingnar-ven tableis agrave abesque avant deteste'(A mixture of language, meaning: terrible man against 'heaven' can't take a liking to you, acid spits across plateware and backhands - others seated at the table make sounds of disgust at his behaviour and some make signs (similar to crossing) to show that they are not of his 'against heaven' ways), but they don't speak out against him.


Cerin-sahs (Cerensyrs): I didn't know where the above incerpt was going but it points to a father on earth's will as distinct from the father in heaven's will. You are supposed to abide by both or something. The only reference to 'syrs' that I can find is in The Lord's Prayer translated into Welsh (which you can find easily by googling). 'Syrs' is like an earthly authority, God's will made manifest in man ie. all ideas associated with fathers eg. the father in a family, pater, padre, monsignor - paternalism and the earthly authority of men in religious households. 'Wyrs' for the second sister may have even been because she was a half sister to Cerensyrs, and the daughter of the father's 'second' wife.

Possibly also Ceren is associated with 'seren' meaning star. In tarot the Star card is associated with a girl or daughter. Cerensyrs is the first in line heir of her father, the daughter of the Sir - signifying her standing within the family. And I would say that he did not have a son first, so the husband of Cerensyrs would be significant. Ceren is also associated with Ceres - meaning grain and similar, and variant names alternate with soft and hard C.

Gwynhwyfar(Gwenhwyfar) and Gwenhwyfach's father was (G)Ogfran Gawr (or Leodegan or Leodegra(u)nce) according to the web. There is an old rhyme that says something like Gwenhwyfar, bad when little, worse when tall - here is this connection with worse again but not to the sister but to Guinevere herself. This time its regarding her supposedly giant like proportions, so I'm not sure what the idea is here.

Back to Cerensyrs,

she was lit up in an oracle, as a child coming to the Sire. He sat waiting for her as she would be Queen - he called her Cerensyrs - with pride she was his daughter to be Queen of his own loins, and he still loved his wife and hoped she would be as fair as her mother.


Back to Cerenwyrs,

she made no signs of life for awhile, then she gasped into breath with no good colour about her. Her table (the apocalyptic forecast done at birth) stabled her into a 'peregrine parler fren', a forein speaking stranger's household. She was born into the world within minutes of her sister, despite having different mother's. Cerensyrs mother Ygraine (inconsistent with net stories) was frozen solid in the earth two weeks after the birth from a high fever resulting from inefficient care in birthing. Cerenwyrs mother Tulyas was a lady in waiting to Ygraine and also mistress to the father. Tulyas stepped in as mother and nurse for Cerensyrs while feeding and caring for her own, Cerenwyrs (to add to this, the mothers were cousins).

She was 'lochyen sternes', going to be a terror, sort of like an adventurous tomboy. No amount of criticism would curb her ways.

It was in her thirteenth summer, her golden braids were hanging to her waist and her skin lightly freckled but tanned. She was climbing trees looking for bird's nests to rob, and spending her days paddling in shallows and sling shotting robins with her younger brother by sixteen months - mewdra(e)wd (not consistent so far with online stuff).

Margwynn, as a travelling merchant, had just attached his parchments to his steed and was about to rejoin his escort some 13 miles away. He had just spent several hours at the noble house of Corges de Belsarren (the Cerens's father, the Gogfran guy).

Margwynn was even then quite ill, he really suffered episodically with the bronchial asthma. He felt hot and overwhelmed. The evening before he had barely been able to join in the dinner due to extreme weariness and laboured breathing. He and his two companions, the Barbary man, Sebediah and their young squire, Cryllys of an indeterminate age, took the horses down to the stream just near the bridge connecting to the main road.

As they led the horses down Margwynn spied some wheaten heads bobbing up and down from behind yarrow and amaryllis to the other side of the bridge. He called to Cerenwyrs and Mewdrewd (Mew-druid).

The two children shouted bobbed up, shouted 'Nar-g'(No), then bobbed back down. The men soon forgot about them as they let the horses drink and they rested in the cool green plants. Soon enough the children had come over to their side of the bridge and were standing behind them. They both said in a jumble, or repeating and echoing each other, as they often did, 'Where's your dog, don't you have a dog, everyone should have a dog, we have a dog, several in fact....'.

During the course of the interaction, Margwynn was struck by the simple beauty of Cerenwyrs, he loved the colour of her hair and could see she was strongly built. She looked older than her thirteen years.

He made her a bracelet of cornflowers then a circlet for her head. He tossed a coin to Mewdrewd. The boy took a shine to him immediately as he was often looked over by many due to his age and his nature to shadow his sisters, he was still only 11 and only sixteen months younger than the girls.

Sebediah, not so tolerant of children took off his hat and thumped at the children to shoo them away, he tired very quickly of such things. Cryllys was fed up too as he had to stand and hold the reins of the three horses while they drank and they were all jostling him, tossing their heads occasionally and relieving themselves of large amounts of strong smelling urine and defecate. To top it off his leather shin guards were soaked and he knew they would be uncomfortable to ride in. He complained loudly to the horses and was hoping that the men would come and help him but they didn't and he had to wait out until Sebediah, slung a pebble at him and hissed something to the effect that the watering was over and they were going to head off.

Margwynn felt like drowning himself in the cool waters of the gently flowing stream. His ears were affected by his illness and he felt sort of imbalanced listening and sounds like he had his head under water. He felt quite dizzy and he even thought he could clearly hear and see water nymphs singing while they swam down the center of the eddying stream.

As the years went by, he would oft return to the Carcamenes clauer set (a sprawling interconnection of wealthy houses, full of good looking people that entertained and laid an abundant table. On his returns he would be sure to try and catch a glimpse of Cerenwyrs. Her sister was even more beautiful, but he rarely saw her as she was inclined to stay indoors to keep her skin fair and attend to gentlewoman skills of finework, filigree and the like taught by her mother's Norman entourage.

The last time he saw Cerenwyrs was when she was sixteen. She had been confined to a more rigid routine and the family had been considering marital marital options for the girls. The Dauphinois embassador had been staying and was filling Gogfran in on the lists of noble families their members, wealth, advantage and possible suitors within their ranks.

Cerenwyrs and Margwynn seated on the bridge over the stream, a favourite place of Cerenwyrs, were talking of the marital suggestions and possibilities. Margwynn, several years older, approximately ten years older I think, said to her offhandedly, well why don't you marry me. Cerenwyrs, stunned but in quick reply said yes, I will - she didn't want to marry any stuff shirt she didn't know, and god knows where she would end up or what life she would have to endure. Margwynn, without any fuss said, good it's settled then, and that was the end of it. He didn't worry about the details and she felt relieved that something was sorted out. Of course they hadn't at this point figured Gogfran's response into anything, but they hadn't thought of any obstacles. Margwynn believed himself in his rights to marry anyone, the Queen of Sheba if he so desired, why not marry Cerenwyrs, she was gorgeous definitely and he was intrigued by the woman that was developing in her. He would get it sorted he thought.




Last edited by sweet green ginger on October 25th 2010, 1:33 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : not proof read)
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on October 25th 2010, 10:36 am

He came in by night, he looked like death.

Olandes sat beside him and offered him a wedge of pear. They were at Mechhorlyn's pleasure palace. Well that's how it seemed to them. Mechhorlyn was a lumer trader. Lumer was liquid or sheet metal, deadly stuff because it contained mercury, lead and plumber(alumina salt ash - I think). It was good for moulding, though if used for a crown, it would send the man crazy. It was kept in a metallic clay paste and then could either be melted in a severe furnace or be beaten into a sheet and polished.

Lumer, as people tended to call him, had been up early peddling and was back home for his midday meal with apples and cider to add to his meal of a few spoonfuls from a pot of pork trotters and a piece of belly that he had sitting on the pot belly stoker for the past week or more. As he trundled his cart with latched panel covers for security in under the eaves of his window box at the front of the house he gave his terrier a scruffing and chained it close to menace anyone that was too interested in the cart.

While eating his meal he had heard scratching and scraping on the flags at the back of his house. He wasn't concerned because he had secured his house like a fort - particularly the entry ways, he had quite a cache of wealth within its walls.

Again, he heard a scratching, and more because he was curious, he swung himself quietly up the sort of ramparts - kind of like an interior access to a higher part of the house - via big blocks larger than steps recessed into the wall. Soon enough he was spying through a viewing nook higher up the stone house and looking directly to the rear yard.

He could have burst out laughing but he didn't - hard not to though. At the back of the house in the water barrell used for house cleaning and animals, bobbed a drunken looking man that he had never seen propped up with his arms over the sides having his face wiped by a taller 'skinless man' that he recognised as Olandes. Skinless because he was wearing a hair tunic that sat on him like a long dress.

He had met Olandes during a storm on one of his longer routes in trade. The pony had gone lame after being entrenched in a bog of mud and Lumer had not an idea in mind of how he could go either forward or back. He had become desperately hungry by the delay as well and only had a few mouthfuls of some stale seed cake which wasn't very appetising on his last attempt of it. He thought of ending the pony and roasting some its bits, he could even sell or trade the fresh meat but he would have to pay for stowage of his goods and they would probably cheat him in negotiation because of his desperate plight. The road had frequent travellers but none had been sighted since this morning and it was now mid afternoon and the sky was as black as hell.

Just when he thought he would do the deed - which he was sorry about as he had found the pony to be quiet companionable, he noticed a figure some ten metres away through the driving rain. At first he was aghast because the figure looked like a phantom and just stood there all thin and pale. With out a word, Olandes lent down and speared the pony just above the hoof with a skewer. The pony squealed in dismay and Lumer, fallen back on himself in horror was pressed back against the cart with his arm rifling for the axe and his eyes rivoted to the marauder.

Olandes worked quickly, and hissed a warning threatening suggestion to Lumer. Lumer could not understand him, the wording was strange but he understood the connotation - well he understood that if he were to try anything he might fare much worse and quickly too.

Olandes had severed the tendon and was pulling the hoof in strange ways. No one could possibly think that he was benefitting the animal. It was probably in a state of shock because after an initial terrified whinney it just sort of quivered and stayed encumbered in its harness to the cart.

The small spear was dislodged and Olandes spat into a scrumpled mess of clover that he had already in his hand and worked the poultice deftly into a clump. He pushed the spit balled clover into the the openings then he rubbed his hands down the foreleg, smoothing down the hair firmly and reassuringly. Then amazingly, after calling the pony into his eyes, he picked up the foreleg, crooked it and sat the pony back against the cart, and there he stayed keeping the pony in position, resting its leg.

Lumer was both appalled and stunned. He had thought the ba*tard was going to cut the leg of and run off with it or something - what a strange creep this person was.

Olandes still using wedging his body into the pony looked over his shoulder to Lumer and burst out laughing. Lumer was still standing frozen with one arm slung behind him over the sides of the cart and his body sort of leaning back with his toes pointed in, in a crumpled posture. His face had not changed in several minutes and his mouth was open in shock.

Olandes broke his laugh down to a chuckle with a few barking coughs, he had sucked in some rain through his hearty laughing and was wondering if he could hold the animal.

Lumer recovered himself, stood up, brushed his tunic down and sort of frowned like one does when they've just seen a monkey run up the side of a market stall and disappear within the tent folds. At the time one doesn't know if they can believe what they saw or wonder if they should be prepared for what the monkey might do next.

Lumer was about to slump down to the side on the wet grass, he was sick of this day and he didn't know what to do. This clown had done something to the pony and he didn't know if the pony was ok or just faking its almost bemused expression - urrr, Lumer was feeling overwhelmed, what was he thinking, was he dreaming, he thought.

Olandes seeing his distress, called him over ang got him to hold the foreleg in its crooked position - that at least made things a bit easier for Olandes - his back was killing him from being held in such a strained position to keep the pony leaning back on its rump.

And so they stayed for quite some time. Lumer kept looking up to see if Olandes was over this charade - he didn't dare try to put the leg down. After an hour and a half of misery, Olandes leaned carefully away from the horse and braced his knee under the crooked shin while he knelt and held the pony's reins. Lumer was relieved of his position and told to unharness the pony from the cart.

Olandes located a star in the now clearer sky and concentrated on it for the next four hours while he droned in a foreign and monotonous humming song. The pony seemed to sleep or go very quiet. Lumer crawled up on the cart and put his chin in his hands - he was so weirded out by this guy that he felt like giving him a mouthful of abuse.

After all the hours had elapsed. Olandes started to kind of chicker, chicker, to the pony and started clicking his tongue. Holding the reins firmly, he crooked his arm under the leg and walked the limping horse off the road and onto some spongy grass. He then proceeded to lay the horse down.

Many events passed during the night. Lumer was set to rummaging for stones in the moonlight, then making a fire out of some bits he had on the cart. Then they alternated in keeping the pony down while Olandes disappeared to collect bits for making a sleeping draught for the pony, etc, etc. What a long night Lumer had.

And it continued the next day! I guess he had to be grateful. The pony actually looked ok and it seemed this all might actually be doing the trick. That day they were able to eat a pigeon and wild yams and also get a bit more wood and fill up the water can after quite a hike down a hillside to where the hills were separated by a cracked earth with water coursing along it. At about two in the afternoon a fleet of carts arrived on the way to Lidemeister (Lidgate ?). A shepherd was taking a flock of about fifty sheep between four carts. The mule leading the front cart was causing a bit of trouble, a leather belly strap had edged its way up and was threatening to castrate him. The shepherd had already stopped and tried several times to alter the position of the strap but it kept sliding into the mule's comfort zone. The shepherd had just about lost all patience with it. The harness had been borrowed from the large horse that normally took the lead, Jonny-ox. Poor Teddy-nox the mule was shorter and his belly was shaped differently.

The fleet stopped and Olandes helped them to shuffle the harnesses around so that Teddy-nox was pleased and the other horses could carry on without to much bother. Lumer's pony was still drousy and under no motivation to be bothered by the commotion. Lumer felt the same, and he stayed back and made himself look useful in comforting his pony - cripes, he just wanted to get going and away from here. All of this had made him feel like he wanted to throw a tantrum and just take what he could carry and bolt for the nearest settlement to get a lift out of the county.

He sat it all out for one more night and the following morning Olandes stood the pony up and began to carefully exercise it. Eventually, by noon, the pony could be led but would not be able to take the cart. Lumer started to display universal mannerisms to convey to Olandes that he was thankful, very much, and that Lumer would be fine now, and just sort of wait around until he could sort something out with the cart.

It was now that Olandes motioned to want to find out what was in the cart. Lumer grudgingly opened the panels that acted as a lid to the contents. Olandes wasn't interested in trying to get any as payment or just anyway. He promptly grabbed the cart and tipped its contents at the bottom of a large oak off to the side, he then used the axe to fashion a spade and ended up burying the contents of the cart. Olandes carved a map onto a laminate of wood as to its whereabouts in relation to the defining features of the area. Then he pushed the cart in under some gorse and covered it around with some branches.

Lumer had got the gist of what was going on some time ago and had begun to realize that this stranger had very little interest in material goods. Lumer even ventured to test his interest by offering a small number of coins that he kept in a pouch inside his tunic, but Olandes just took one, then raised it and smiled in thanks.

He then left Lumer to walk his pony and continue onwards. Every now and then Olandes would meet up with him and eventually they became friends and Lumer was eventually able to understand what he was saying.

It might make many wonder why Olandes had put in such an effort for a lame pony and an unimpressive man. Fact was, Olandes liked company, in small numbers, well in ones or two at the most and he had very little to occupy him. He had no family around, he had no occupation as such, he knew he was unusual to these people, and doing things like that was both interesting to him and uplifting.

Back, or forward now, to the rear yard of Lumer's house. Olandes turned and spied Lumer looking down from his hidey hole and then he turned back to Margwynn and raised him from the barrell. Margwyn was not drunk but he was under the influence from some substance again and Olandes was not impressed. He had brought him in to ask Lumer if Margwynn might be able to lie up in the clandyke (the house's washing shed) for half the day as there was no where else that he might recover without either being on someone's allotment of too much in view of passers by. Margwynn had set himself to smoking whilst Olandes slept and then they had both stumbled into the yard early that morning.

Lumer at some point opened the back door and tossed out some sacking with some food in it - some of the apples, a few pairs, some buns, and a chunk of dried and salted pork. He also placed a jar of cider on the flags and threw some more sacks down for drying off and sleeping on.

Olandes got Margwynn into the shed, was able to talk some idea of where they were into his addled senses and then he left him. He had begun to school Margwynn in his ways but Margwynn was not so easily schooled when he had other ideas.

When Margwynn recovered from his haze, he packaged up some of the food, took one last draught of the ale, and also left. When Olandes returned, he was not surprised. It didn't bother him. Margwynn could not escape his own right hand - there was no choice involved.

Olandes, in good spirits, began to sing:

'Fernly, fernly attar veitch-erle agarn n
(You my darling have taken me o-o-ver)
and I'm unable to divert you,
you and I have hit the water and we're sinking
in each others arms.
Oh yes, we are sinking in each other's arms,
like breath on pane
you softly etch my very self
and no one in heaven will call me
because we are dying in our embrace
of one another
and we will be lost from
all worlds
in our own new world
without any trace."






*I'm a terrible proof-reader*
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on October 25th 2010, 8:55 pm

Aarrgh, he had not been prepared for how much he had become reliant on Olandes. Damn everything, he realized he had nothing and he felt as if he was nailed to the rim of a cart wheel and being grinded into the rubbly road. Had they not walked on roads for some time? The gravel and pebbles were making his feet suffer and his head was pounding.

He couldn't give up surely, he was sick, sick, sick, of Olandes. No, he really had to try and keep his mind, he knew he could wander off in his thinking. His health had improved but he was still not out of the woods as they say. He had scars on his lungs and an infestation of lice at the nape of his neck and around his ears.

At supper time, there was no supper. At 'morning mass' there was no 'bread' to break his fast. He felt so broken and lacking in resolve and almost turned back when he had a thought to build himself a manassey (a raft/small barge) and make his way along the water ways. He had no knife or other tools. There was only his small shard hanging around his neck.

The sun was now so hot. He determined to come off the road and reach the cresingl (cressing/crossing - where a small fortification had been made within a river to use to cross and to slow the water on one side). He had ventured here before on early travels and knew a few of the countrymen round abouts.

As he made his way to the otherside of the cressing he lost his footing on a broken part that had been grown over with moss. He had planned to try and get some oddments from a few residences to form the raft but now he was plummeted into the fast moving other side and was whooshed 20 metres into a flushing whirl taking him down river. He really didn't have the strength to swim to the side. The river had quite a current and all he could do, and only barely was to sort of float and feebly paddle to keep himself afloat.

A yellow dog set up a terrible barking a half a mile down and he was dive bombed by kingfishers as he looped his way under and past a bough of Merle (related to Yew).

At Timbstone he was pushed by a pole from a passing barge. At Yeckersley, he was pulled under by an eddy and thought he would drown except for being saved from his underwater tomb by a large boulder plonked in the river. He was just able to pull himself out and there he lay for quite some time on the warmth of the rock, panting and utterly exhausted.


Meanwhile, quite some distance away, Olandes was telepathically tuned to his situation. Margwynn had at this point no real conscious sensation of this connection other than a vague feeling of being under the lens of someone - and so he would frequently look around him to see if he could catch the viewer.

Olandes himself had many flying 'examples' within the recesses of his mind. He had ready access and knowledge to a range of elaborators and facilitators. Much of the outer world was experience in replica internally, and he could fashion a view of reality that effected changes within his experience of things.

As he kept in mind the thoughts and occurrences of Margwynn, he proceeded to create bridges to mysteries in Margwynn's mind. Margwynn, never one for gossip had a few of his own mysteries as well. Like who was this degenerate old man that appeared in his dreams just before waking - and how was he able to visualise, for a few years now, vague scenes from seemingly nowhere. Was he mad? Where was he anyhow? Was he really here or was he asleep and dreaming he was here, lying on a rock in the middle of a river.

He came down from the rock, and was able to reach a slow current to the side and make his way up onto the bank. Looking around, he took in a scene of loveliness. He would live here. The place was to become known as Pier-cannst and later Rockingham. He would live in the area for the next fifteen years.



sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on November 15th 2010, 8:01 am

'Samhain, samhain'. He called. He visited. A lowly languinous bird of prey. A turbulent jackal of death - it was Noventeris. 'A clausingemar; a def lorden. Heckel ebenlargen au sernam desterinoveris!' (meaning, in one such as Olandes would word it, Noventeris thought of himself as a Griffen, a winged lord to fly in and inspire great fear. Someone whom you may never expect in his different guises and rebirth of like a curse coming back to find his target). He spaketh, (teasing/whining tone) "[Bit off more than you could chew hey, well you wouldn't reckon on me arriving]". And he was crazy as he mused over the effects of his return to a soul that had denied him what he had requested of them ...

No one had been around of late, this nasty [twisted spine] creature was looking daggers at he, calling down an obligation to give to strangers lest they come back and haunt [ye] (you). Tominas felt affronted. Not being a small and incapable man he held much confidence in his dimensions and abilities. Hmm, he thought to himself. A languid response won't do. And so he returned with a loud and frightful, 'RARRR' that would deafen a mouse and track bird droppings quickly into the snow.

Phased slightly, Noventeris, lacked much, due to being mishandled from the crib till the day he left his syphylis dripping mother. And (laughing), he had not fared much better since. His wrists still carried the insults of rough rope when he was detained like a dog at for not working the feudal enclosure of the local 'Rameses', and left to fight for scraps at the middens where he was expected to wash out the cookware, and large heavy barrels for cider and wine fermentation.

But, oh, maybe four years now, he had been suitably free, of course he required to make a living and there was nothing wrong with prostitution especially for ribbons. Red favour ribbons (red ribbons belonging to the house of lords), able to be handed in to the carmelite priests so as to be considered for simple lodgings and food, in return for sweeping, polishing, burying dogs and the like as well, but at least the ribbons were like a foot in the door when he was more destitute than usual. The ribbons would be given out to common people if the lords would like to distinguish them as meritous. His 'regulars' were nothing more than esteemed soldiers/guards but they passed on their own ribbons given to them by the lords for things like laying down their own cloak for a lady so as not to soak her silken slippers in stinking mud. Or sometimes they would be given apples, instead.

And now, he was sorely missed at the copts, he was sure, but hmmff, those sore shaved heads were worse than the guards for the rougher harassment and there was no more for it! (Didn't get any extra priveleges - it was all their way) Fine ganders they were, '[could na spake a boorley lad as a liver dog?]' (couldn't they just harass the attendant boys - so much easier on him anyway - at least he wouldn't have to scrape around on his hands and knees as a snake changes its skin trying to put all inner casings back in - he scoffed miserably at the pitiful nature of his plight).

Tominas, 'A lardy [dog] if nor Kampf see knock a bright star on high' (meaning, he was full fat bristling muscle and defined in physique like a god). Yea, Noventeris knew the overlord that took away the name of Tominas and spat it to him (He was aware of this family's 'crest'/name). They had taken all the rum dorlings [dorlens] back to an outhouse and slapped them silly like, haha, (laughing now), like fluffy plover chicks smashed to puff and fat splatter with an iron rod off a rookery crest. (Meaning, he had heard about these fuzzy marauders and their so called business mate/master/son get beaten to a pulp by a band of [wild winter tor quays], saxon briselhammers, at a round the table esquire pot holding, and the family had rallied, sought out the saxons and massacred them). MAARR -GAWAIN! Yea, that was him. He hated him even without ever setting eyes on his - renowned image. (Margwynn, when travelling as merchant/banker had a reputation for being very good looking with celebrity appeal. He was cool, had a handsome structure, tanned skin and crystal blue eyes, from his mother's side). No one had seen the little criminal since! Save one, yes, he had heard that a bright country lad had witnessed the whole thing and said that if it wasn't for his ageing father he would have gone to knee and pledged lifelong service to such a square shouldered, unreal brother such as the likes of Margwynn.

[Oh give over!](Tominas said something to the effect: Spare me your tale of woe and scoundrel plans to hatch a filbert spirit to come and twist back my toenails or whatever lame potential of retribution you think you can muster if I don't do what you say). Tominas, was superstitious, but he wagered that this horrible little worm would not have any alliances with anything powerful in the hereafter - well nothing that he couldn't handle anyway - he thought, not entirely confidently.

[Penny for a pincher then?], Noventeris looked up quizzically and warbled in a comical plea. Money, currency was few and far between, but the banker merchants would often have something even if made out of inferiour metals/materials. Penny for a pincher, is a translation for, to put it mildly, an offer of his means in earning a living. The nature of the reality of the times will no doubt offend some but this is totally the circumstances.

Tominas had remained indentured to the tailor, Cymres for six years until an incident resulting in expulsion from the trade and the premises. The incident concerned the pelt of a skinned hare and a measurable amount of puppetry put to an intoxicated and sleepy Cymres at the celebrations of the autumn equinox. Cymres, in a drunken haze, had awoken in a half light to a rabbit's form close to him and supposedly speaking in oracles about the good work of a certain young Tominas and how he might require some new boots as a compliment to his fine and outstanding stitchery and precise cutting of cloth.

Jobi had come along for the show but had not been able to contain himself. The boys, had grown to young men of 18 and nearly 17 and had also dipped their ladling cups into the 'princeton' cider barrel. Jobi, a little younger and a slighter build had not the meat to hold a skaal so well - he was all giggles and snorting bursts from the beginning. Tominas had warned him and threatened him with several glares but eventually the game was up and Cymres was in no disposition to serve a light hearted outcome. Without so much as a word, the following day he handed Tominas a paper of discharge. Jobi was to stay and continue as house valet and companion. Tominas wept in chagrin, he was truly devastated. Though a strongly built young man, with nothing wimpy about him, he truly enjoyed the creative appeal of his trade. He actually had closely guarded a dream to rejoin his family machinations and take his skills in cloth to far away places and find his fortune at the courts of foreign kings and art houses. Though he had been diligent to his stitches in younger years he had progressed to cutting the cloth to the patterns and had pressed Cymres to acquire finely fashioned skins and leather to make into garments that might even suit sheilding from the weather and seasonal depressions.

Tominas pushed the crawling obsequious Noventeris back before he strode off to find the hot pickle seller. He fancied an ale and some pickles and bread. Noventeris followed, as a dog in pursuit of scraps.



Last edited by sweet green ginger on November 15th 2010, 8:03 am; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : bad proof reader)
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on December 2nd 2010, 8:45 am

Callaray inglewood appeared much closer than it actually was. Tominas could just make out the crest of the crown closet (the standpost tower on the eastern gravel pit). He had supped six hours prior and was looking forward to soup and warming his toes in front of his cousin's hearth.

To be fair, he had nothing advantageous about him. An incomplete indenture and a forearm of whipping scars were hardly proof of his diligence and ability. Seminax (doesn't seem right, alternative: Sesigras; Vadalupe (Gvadalupe ?)), his grandfather guide, the prophet in his heart, led him forward. Tominas lacked nothing in courage and prided himself on having the heart of a lion, in love and in conquest.

Single men in his day without a mother to intervene, or a father to talk lengthily with squires and pollards and campions, over a few bottles of port wine and some exquisite sweet cheese pastries, were apt to wander where fortune might possibly, hopefully, deliver into their station a suitable bride - suitable by [pelvis] and suitable by temperament, 'apere de distements' (something to the effect of a well suited other half in looks, intelligence, passion etc etc - I think).

And this was precisely the situation for Tominas. His mother was far away and estranged from his father. His sisters, who might double in terms of his mother's function in her absence, were barely recognizable to him, having been swallowed up by nunnery for two, one of which had died, and the other married to a silly man of the town of Dunberry (Danbury, Dunbury near Canterbury). Well not so silly as perhaps sort of puddiny looking, though quite clever with business. And his sister Maywahny (but possibly Myfanwy which might be pronounced miv-ahn-wie), occupied herself with something very unusual for a female, even he thought, as she could repair a type of piano instrument with bellows that sounds a bit like 'schleperfinke' . Anyway, they two were so engrossed in their marriage and business that they only had time, inclination and patience for one another and were totally blank when receiving friends and family. Oh sure, Darghton, his brother-in-law would make some display of hospitality and his sister might supply some sample of a repast, in miniature, but generally they induced very little 'come again' feeling and Tominas generally left in one swift movement when he had quite suddenly lost all patience with their bland connectivity. In actual fact, Darghton in particular, loved company, but both he, and more so his wife were quite nervous of family cottoning on to their growing wealth, and so kept things a bit stiff to deter any possible nuance of financial support or assistance.


In Chesney (or Cheney), a low lying sort of farm tenure to the bottom of Callaray Inglewood and down on the flats near the river, Margwynn with forefinger pressed in a crook towards his mouth, in contemplation, circled a bone kittle in his courtyard. (A kittle, to my understanding, is a construction of bones and substances by the contemplator, in a trance state - then once he comes out of the trance, he reads the display and the significance of alignments and relationships of the bones to one another, in conjunction with ashes and rags. Like a fire rag and wood construction is set alight as its stands sort of staked into the ground. Then the contemplator places a bag of bones in position around the general base of the stake - all this is done in either half light or darkness, in a trance state).

'Skalebos, denheim, deliverance (meaning catapult the darkness into a crystal and make it light/life). Stemhain, degelast, tarke-naum (blind, collared dog take a liking to me - please, I beseech you). [Spirit of the overlander (Olandes) come hither, creep not but pile on muddy daub so as I can't mistake you for a kings man and kill you].'

'[I am lacking insight, I need your guidance and protection and forthright alignment with our deities, those who are central in you and speak from your mouth ( for want of better words and phrasing to translate this)]'

Margwynn was now 43. He had toted a large sack of spirit goddesses and glowing worm like semi-creators in his heart and mind for nigh on eight years now. After raising himself from the river, he dug his necklet shard into the earthen bank and carved deeply into its soft underbelly. In his often present, semi-altered mental state he wrote three to four lines of runic symbols and other lettering to distend the belly of the bank and inflame it with a quantum dowager (a star form) to keep watch on who might alit there - he had claimed a stretch of river and land twenty forlongs (furlongs) in which I think might be about 3km deep. But the land was susceptible to flooding and very little would grow save for wild plants because the brush was choked with bulbs, and networks of strong roots and would dissolve to slush if the plants did not take from the soil sufficient moisture nor hold the soil in their interlocking underground fingersl. Thus it was not a popular site for anyone considering farming -well certainly, Margwynn had never considered this himself. Though he was to enjoy the lush productivity of the native flora and its abundance of resources.

The nearest dwellings were the inglewood clamours - the beginning establishment of a community (clamours meaning sort of like the banging and hollering of a building site as the stone masons and the wood labourers toiled over years to bring forth a credible image of the prototype draft on the architectural scrolls. None ventured down to the flats that Margwynn had claimed as there was a strong and vivefied stream up higher next to the mill and the brewery and this served the interests of most.

Margwynn had laid to rest the dog-badger friend, courteous of Olandes, and now had as companions three difficult birds - two ravens and a hawk. The ravens were very studious and would chatter on about a range of 'theories' that they had surmised in relation to changes to the environment. The hawk, communicating little, would kindly drop a rabbit, pheasant or weasel to Margwynn on occasion and the four generally enjoyed one another's company despite rivalry for acknowledgement by Olandes on his infrequent visits. One day Jester right-man had travelled the thirteen miles (or perhaps thirty miles, ah, maybe thirteen leagues) to visit Margwynn, and the birds were thoroughly jealous of Riffel-Cor, even going so far as to pluck and tug at the princely bird's wing feathers. Jester however, swore and meant it, that he would never make the trip again, and it was true, the travel had taken a severe toll on his frame having previously only been used to ambling less than 100metres from his little house by the lake of egrets.

Currently though, the dilemma for Margwynn, was not loneliness, nay, but imperial threat - he could feel the pressure in his temples, always a sign that he must apply himself to many hours of seership. He was at a stalemate now however, and he felt the only thing he could do was to call on Olandes for his wordly wisdom and superior 'pastik' (or is it poustinik?) ways (like hermeticism knowledge perhaps).


Tominas had discovered Margwynn's whereabouts by chance. He had overheard a conversation between a foul mouthed man called Lumer and his adoring swilling swineherds that milled about him on a drinking corner in the Millfloss district of Cartringer. The drinking corner was a place of general catching up or making deals and it marked the beginning of the market square.

Seeking an opportunity to speak with Lumer, Tominas entered into a conversation with a man nearby and spoke loudly of his desire to acquire some Lumer sheets ( something he had gathered from the conversation). Lumer, always on the lookout for new business, sidled over to Tominas. And so began Tominas' very fine extraction of all manner of details, just by his clever way of suggesting, alluding and fabricating to the ready ears of a man of lesser mentality. Lumer, with sporadic and infrequent contact with Olandes, had learned of the activities of the young dullard once dowsed in his water barrel. Of interesting significance to Lumer, the young man called Margwynn was part of a family of merchant bankers. He knew of them; they were brown skinned and were reknowned for their severity. He too had heard the tale of retribution to the yellow and red haired axe weilders.

Tominas, had thanked his grandfather guide for bringing him thus far, crossed the river Eiyelwyde (?) and had landed firmly on the dark side of the Rise of Ring Wardens (Stonehenge). Following at a gamble was Noventeris. Strangely, Tominas felt a comfort in Noventeris's cretin-like presence. Almost as if the creature warded off threats just by the unsavoury atmosphere that accompanied him. Anyway, Tominas thought, in a maudlin way, if he came to an ill fate, the vultures, rats and worms that surely rally around Noventeris would make short work of his body and leave nil for the ghostly ones to try and inhabit - he was very superstitious despite his staunch denial of such things, and he certainly didn't care for the prospect of his body in eternal possession by ghouls.

Carrying his satchel of trade tools and resources - his only claim to daily bread, propriety, and a future - he made his way towards the inglewood. He really did not know what he would find as he hadn't seen his cousin for some twenty-eight years. He was hoping on a house. He had not even considered that his cousin's abode might amount to a circle of stones for a hearth and the thatched and drawn down and tied boughs of a willow.

sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on December 2nd 2010, 7:11 pm

Just so - not 3 leagues distant, the winter home of Gogfran, father to Cerensyrs, Cerenwyrs, and Mewdrewd. The battlements were in ill repair. A combination of weathering and poor maintenance. Gogfran had fallen on hard times. He had gradually sold off his land, sold his summer home, and was now generally holed up in a cold coffin of a central room. The fire was never roaring, and the dogs that slept around the hearth were illkept and suffering from distemper.

Cerensyrs had returned home after an unsuccessful marriage. Her husband had taken another wife and her four children had suffered abominable neglect and disfavour. During the birth of her fourth child she had suffered some degree of palsy, which left her beautiful face with a slight disfigurement - there was a small, and almost indistinguishable drop to her right cheek and corner of her mouth, and her left eye seemed too bright and discerning compared to the seeming feint of her right eye. Her husband became suspicious of her and believed she had developed the evil eye. The couple had lived in Cornwall, in a secured province. The husband, Telebonos, had been able to lay stewardship to some Spanish gold from a boat that had cast off from Berewennas (a port in Devon). The gold belonged to a Spanish cousin of his that had crossed the sea to offer his hand in marriage to Cerensyrs. Gogfran had found his fawning ways to both he and his daughters intolerable and had sent him away. Telebonos had accompanied his cousin in way of family support and to secure a future in his cousin's court. As they sailed away, in a fit of desperation, Telebonos stabbed his cousin in the neck and threw him overboard. No one had seen the act and didn't even realize the cousin was gone. Telebonos ordered the ship to turn around back to the coast of England, due to the cousin having second thoughts and wanting to reconcile with Gogfran. Telebonos made a show of ordering up several flasks from the hold under the guise of his cousin's wish to celebrate this newfound determination. During the night, Telebonos raised the alarm that he had woken, to find his cousin not to be seen. The boat men gave a thorough search, and Telebonos was seen to be swaying so heavily and in danger of falling over the side himself - that one of the men, very kindly, gave him strong advice to go below lest he end up drowned like the growing concern developing for the fate of the cousin. Sometime the following afternoon, Telebonos had sufficiently recovered by all accounts, to be able to give to the men a very acceptable decision in light of his cousin's wishes. He had honourably placed himself at the mercy of the English dogs so as to carry out the cousin's original wishes for a trade alliance. He himself would offer his hand to Gogfran's second daughter, and after some consideration 'in fairness', a portion of the family gold, considering it was only for a second daughter, and all.

On the return of the company to Gogfran, Telebonos applied his considerable wiliness and charm and was eventually actually considered as a suitor for Cerensyrs - though this was decidely influenced by Gogfrans need of funds, the age of the daughters, and the fact that Cerenwyrs continually made her self unattainable as a wife. Telebonos in his initial intention had elaborated on his similarity of status to his cousin and had glamourised the family's connections to the eschelons of spanish nobility - which was in fact not entirely without truth. The family gold was considerable and most of it was still in Spain under a matriarchal eye. The fortune had been made very similarly to the business operations of Margwynn's family and indeed many merchant families with dealings in African booty.

And so, it was sealed that Telebonos, exhibited the wealth, position, connections and personality to be considered as a suitable husband for Gogfran's first born daughter, Cerensyrs. The couple moved to Cornwall, because Telebonos said he could smell Spanish soil from that location. After the terrible fall from grace, after the fourth child was born, Cerensyrs deteriorated to the point where her husband allowed her and her children to return to Gogfran under the pretense that she was terribly homesick and in need of respite.

Once returned, Cerensyrs became very withdrawn, partly due to shame and partly due to the ill managed household of Gogfran. He had made some unwise purchases and had squandered Cerensyrs dowry for the most part. Telebonos had felt obligated to give a show of almost equal quantity of dowry to that of his cousin however he had been able to retain sufficient through clever wording of his intentions to create a stronghold that would serve as a strategic alliance for Gogfran and provide adequate protection for Gogfran's heir and her children. Telebonos maintained a goal to recoup some of his fortune but he had not yet stumbled upon the opportunity, and with growing distaste he had realized that Gogfran had mismanaged the considerable dowry.

Cerenwyrs, too, had grown ill and she felt herself that she suffered somewhat by the same distemper of the dogs. She had been able to side step marriage and had taken several lovers over the years. When her father tried to entertain a suitor for her, she would make herself unavailable by storming off in impatience and staying hidden until things returned to normal. She still spent a lot of time in the company of her brother Mewdrewd. Mewdrewd, being often ignored by others for the most part, had developed his own interests. He kept asps for pets, and brewed his own liquor, which became quite a talking piece for Gogfran and any visitors as the liquor had an inherently pleasing continuity of satisfaction. He also had some other less desirable pursuits, one of which began by pleading to keep any dead animals for dissection. This fascination eventually led to subversive activity in acquiring live animals for presumably dissection and 'education'. Gogfran had felt vaguely uneasy from the beginning and eventually it plagued his psychological state in half drunken and unhappy contemplation about the possibility that his son may be indulging some divergent dispositions and orientations.

The family had been able to keep some servants and was still able to recover some tithing and harvest from the peasant population. Gogfran also owned a couple of boats that brought in wares and slaves and bounty to be sold. His guard were almost a law unto themselves, but maintained some allegiance due to the prior status of the household and Gogfran himself.

As Cerensyrs and Cerenwyrs were on the verge of turning thirty two, Tominas stood on the verge of the gravel slopes and looked out across the flats of Chesney.

sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on January 14th 2011, 7:10 am

"Ne'er Gogfran (becoming Caughlin/Coghlan/Coughlin) o Calliwell, (then gutteral mumbling) afghan phalus [phallus?] mehargmwayn (he punches his own chest in askance [divest of your good humour, haha..ha...hmf]" (Ulster connections in the names)

(over topic: the languid my-lording of a...[bruised ego]... conical hero](meaning: sort of like an insult saying, so much for his supposed nobility that he just spread around at will, and also roughly translated as 'You scoundrel bastard, you looked on me as a man of status (I had a belt you recognised) once, but now (and this is mostly all a connotation of inferred meaning..) look at you, you impoverished tulip, I'm over your piper-ish ways of begotten sovereignty (Pan masquerading as nobility). No one, well not many now, look on you as high and strong. I'm given to you, laid at your feet, and you still do not know me as the rightful tepper (?) for Cerenwyrs, (tepper, something like a cheese midway between sort of camembert and aged creaminess like a blue vein - like a stilton blue cheese I think) (meaning someone with appropriate birthright and correct handling - someone suitable of a match to a noble daughter).

So yes, these were thoughts behind the exclamations and phrasing.

Margwynn, looked forlornly at the sun sinking behind the black hills (bauxite hills) (Ferrer Cadogans - some kind of fought over mining resource site linked to the Irish and to blacksmithing needs or to the lumer sheeting).

The respectives, the two daughters, the children of Cerensyrs, and the servants sat solemnly in the great hall of the Cartelinger Castelan. On the verge of crying, Cerensyrs, makes a brave statement, 'Clough Coughlin, esqueme a veux gosling' (or close to that, meaning: Gogfran's manager/steward, how long do you want us to wait for this downy goose).

Barlow a Tomas, a jovial amateurish artist was to come to put the family in a print, sort of like a gold leaf/paint mural on wood, like a painted platter. Reason being, the girl's 32nd birthdays, which is always remembered as for Cerensyrs, 5 days after Michaelmas, and Cerenwyrs, eventide in two quarters after that. The key servants were included to denote the respectability of the family's station and requirement to properly cater to family needs.

Chemically cognizant, Mewdrewd had perfected a lacquer that could, I think, preserve the glassy realness of eyes in an offshoot interest in taxidermy. Maybe the eyes were created then lacquered, perhaps. He intended to introduce the idea to Barlow and if not accepted, planned to lacquer the platter anyway.

Barlow a Tomas, pulled up in his cart pulled by 3 large dogs. The old crone that fed the pigs and sequestered the chickens, cackled her way through the outer ramparts and wound her way through the dim and stone cold passages to where the family were waiting in the hall.

Cerensyrs youngest, a boy, all of three and a half, swung his legs and sort of weighted his self off the bench seat, falling forward then picking himself up and shouting a delighted greeting at the three dogs that had also been brought inside. Very quickly though, and slightly embarassed at his mistake he just as suddenly withdrew back to his mother's skirts as the dogs of Barlow quickly became very excited and started lunging around and barking and beginning to contest the family dogs that had sprung up on their arrival. Such a ruckus now and carnage looking likely, if not dog then maybe child.

Clembes, now gaston (like a man-in waiting), cook and laundry man but once sort of the steward, grabbed the eldest boy of Cerensyrs and flung a torch into his hand to keep back the dogs with the aim to edge the family dogs back to the hearth. He in the meantime, with back to the boy, brandished the torch and plunged it into the side of one of the nearest dogs of Barlow, singing its shaggy hide, and causing it to squeal with yelps. Barlow, had backed away, feebly calling his dogs back the way he had come in. Once outside he tied them back to the cart and covered them with canvas. He was concerned that the singed dog may be ill affected with the result being that his skittered pack may not be able to carry him back from whence he had come.

Gogfran sat in one of the ante chambers, glowering. He had heard the commotion, and had thought fleetingly that someone may be maimed or just as bad, the girls would become overly distressed and so forth disinclined to try the sitting again. He could understand a man wanting to bring the dogs inside, the daily breezes had begun a frosty chill of late, heralding a deeply cold winter ahead. Damn family would make such a fuss over things...Clembes would have been able to keep the family dogs down, surely. He loved dogs, more often than people. Women and children could be so wearing on his conscience.. ah well, what really would he do without them...he would be a lonesome old crag holed up in a tomb of ice come festoon time.

'Ha,....haha..ha', what was he thinking, he was becoming like a corpse in his affections. His greatest enjoyment of late was to see his grandsons and dogs at play...the three year old was a chip off his own self, he thought. Only the other day, two, nay three days gone, he had caught the little polecat poking around in the puppy pen, with not a thought in the world for what he was stepping in...or on....haha...he had heard a few puppy yelps...probably sat on one...haha..ha...
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on January 27th 2011, 6:26 am

seragedd (Opposite the Rhine-stone; a day with reference to Venus): Gaston, he climbed high this day

tabaledd (the space of time between seragedd and samedi): Tominas, he had nothing good to say about his food this day

samedi (all catacombs bring out your unlaid dead to be burnt save they turn into walking monsters): Oustern, gave lingering licks to Collayns nape

barcamedi (a day named to be associated with the turn of the centurian with his sword striking stone; the bright lightning spark resulting; a reference to the will of god and his damon to lay waste everything that does not honour him or observe his iron power): Tominas, led a horse, borrowed, to a drinking well, and (Ulster term), a tarquin bannad (meaning: a light hearted place to meet under an open shelter with a large timber table and benches; sort of like an open stable).

'Clasp hands in glee, all rise', she titters. She could see in her open vase these visions. Cerenwyrs, now a notable seeress, had long since discovered that she was a mess of otherworldly 'abominations'.

Noventeris has long since disappeared, whilst Tominas, a new found chaplain of sorts, had acquired a bunk in a Tigemon, a small chapel with the purpose of giving sacraments to guards on duty, who were rarely able to leave their post and usually had no home other than the battlements. The sacraments were not quite christian, but were eventually adopted by them. The religious observance that Tominas had found a 'calling' for when in dire need of living quarters and bread, was generally a pagan monotheistic cult prevalent at the time. They observed Pan/Bacchus/Dionysus and Saturnalia. The sacraments were laid out on a tray and comprised of a small rattle, with a snake's tail appearing from the hole in the knob at the end of a handle. The rattle effect was created by small metal bearings/filings/bits contained in the knob casing. Another item was a whitish cloth fashioned sort of like a Klu Klux Klan's hood that had a skirt that rested on the shoulders. And among a few other things there was also a gold, timber or other material scary Pan face that held small discs of wafer in its mouth.

Tominas' job was to take the tray to the men 3 times in a space of 5 days. Sometimes he didn't bother, and usually made sure he had an excuse of hand about weather conditions or biting insects (which were a terrible problem) and did tend to put him off going. Basically, he would don the hood, and use the rattle whilst reciting in a monotone, several verses of Panhelmic play. He then was supposed to twist up the tails of his cloak and lay bare his behind ( Buggery was common place in these cults). He did do this, on several occasions, but it didn't particularly appeal to him as he felt it tiresome and demeaning. He tended to get out of it by dealing out some clever conversation, news etc, or trying to introduce a topic of contention, and then leaving them to argue about it between themselves. He wasn't very popular as the 'Grife-caller'.

The Pan face holding the wafers was offered as a token of Dionysan charm, that is sort of like a blessing to take with you, and be more inclined to be able to sustain your life by obtaining your daily bread etc. A ladle hung at Tominas' belt and this was dipped into a pail, another arduous task. Carrying an even half full pale was difficult as it was not leak proof and not well made either so after starting out with as much as you could carry whilst also carrying the tray, it would be leaking and sloshing out as you went, hardly worth the effort in the end with only six or so small ladle dippings possible if that, seemed sort of silly to him as the men were ususally extremely thirsty and would pester and jibe him to bring more water when next he came.

He was seriously tired of this work, and after awhile he stopped altogether. Another ten days later, he left the tigemon and sat himself at the tarquin bannad. Appropriately, he began to sing as his family did have bard skills within their ranks and heritage. A noble young man with the name, Cawain, offered his hand to Tominas as a way of compliment and greeting.

Cawain was Cerensyrs eldest boy, now all of years nearing fourteen. He had been spending more time of late in the company of a neighbouring family's son of similar age, Gerhardt, or also known as Kay (Cai). The two shared a welsh pony, Kay's, and gallavanted around with sling shots, bows and small spears; hunting, shooting birds and laying traps.

Cawain invited Tominas back to the Castelon for respite and to sing to his family. Tominas gladly accepted; fortune was smiling on him he felt, and he felt the most joyous he had felt in some time. He still had his tools of trade with him, and held some hopes of establishing himself for awhile in a noble household such as the boys residences.

As the sun began to sink over the black hills, Tominas followed Cawain into the Castelon and Kay continued onto his family estate.
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by Spirit-Being on July 28th 2011, 11:42 pm

I'm looking forward to reading your posts, its your Journal sweet green ginger post as much as you need to.

Ill stop by here tomorrow and read some of your posts, and share some comments on them.

Many Blessings

_________________
The Merlin Story Asymbo10
Spirit-Being
Spirit-Being
Founder
Founder

Male
Number of posts : 2292
Age : 45
Location : Hamden, Connecticut
Hobbies : Reading, Creating Things, Music, Meditating, and Being a part of Nature
Appreciation Points : 2726
Registration date : 2008-09-14

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by Spirit-Being on July 30th 2011, 12:45 am

sweet green ginger wrote:I spent many hours last night looking into this name Cerenwyrs. I am forming a faint suspicion as to its significance.

In particular i found to my increasing interest, some references to a poem,'Marwnad Gwen', Myvyrian Archaiology, and stuff surrounding guinevere. But not in relation to Cerenwyrs in particular, only this that as soon as I wrote it I felt a prompt to consider the name in relation to Guinevere.

As it turns out (info from celticnet.org.uk and upteen other sites), Gwenhwyfar's sister is Gwenhwyfach mentioned briefly in the Welsh triads and the tale of Culhwch ac Olwen. Gwenhwyfar means something like white/blessed the great, and Gwenhwyfach means white/blessed the lesser.

Now when I broke up Cerenwyrs to try and get a handle on her name, I came across some limited reference on the net about wyrs actually relating to worse, or not as good, and possibly in the accent in may have been actually pronounce whars, in that pommy kind of swing on things. I'm Australian so we say a derelict version for worse, to the effect of wers not 'whars'. It seems to me that 'worse' could be associated with lesser, although hwyfar is supposedly mainly, 'smooth, soft' and not necessarily, greater. I'm wondering if the meaning is that Gwenhwyfar is the greater because perhaps she is the older, more beautiful, or more authentic in terms of lineage, or something to do with refinement of pure of inheritance and therefore greater. Gwenhwyfach being maybe the second daughter, the younger sister perhaps, or for some other reason may in distinguishing terms be called the 'lesser'. I cannot significantly connect Gwen to Ceren though.

And further it is significant to me, this poem, 'Marwnad Gwen'. My current suspicions is that this is Merlin, Margwynn as I have been calling him, and Guinevere, Gwenhwyfar, is actually Margwynn's first wife. I have to look into it more but I think Gwenhwyfar (meaning white/holy the greater) is actually first wife. I think Margwynn, last part Gwynn, is Gwen, and hwyfar, I suspect is first wife. Consequently, I think Gwenhwyfach is Gwen's second wife (the lesser) and the two are not necessarily sisters, but probably still are.

Anyhow, I shall no doubt come back to this idea.

I am wondering if Cerenwyrs is Gwenhwyfach.

Very Interesting you have put alot of thought into this, im looking forward to reading the rest, I'm wondering whether or not Cerenwyrs is Gwenhwyfach. You may have posted it in one of your other posts ill be sure to keep an eye out.

Many Blessings

_________________
The Merlin Story Asymbo10
Spirit-Being
Spirit-Being
Founder
Founder

Male
Number of posts : 2292
Age : 45
Location : Hamden, Connecticut
Hobbies : Reading, Creating Things, Music, Meditating, and Being a part of Nature
Appreciation Points : 2726
Registration date : 2008-09-14

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on September 14th 2011, 7:41 am

Thank you, Spirit-Being, I hoped all of this was not too distressing. I write as I get and it is very confusing.



There would be discrepancies and I lose track, and of course, seems to ridiculous to believe it is from other than me.



I often come back to read and have wondered if I would ever continue this.



I should try to see how it continues as I have no idea until I set my mind to it.



I have often come in to read posts and saw only today that someone may have thought this journal perhaps was very negative. I shall ponder it.
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on November 22nd 2011, 4:42 am

There was nothing, really, no one had quite understood the allowances required, hmmmf, Cerenwyrs, supposing to herself, was aborting her primary occupation for the day. She had been trying to manifest apparitions from a powder thrown over a bowl of coals, but all she was getting was a foggy, tight head and a nauseous feeling from the wafts of agrimony and shepherd's purse, among other substances. She threw a goblet of wivern(a spiced, slightly fermented elderberry wine/juice that had a portion of a narcotic agent containing sap) over the ashy powder, then abruptly turned on her heel and swung away with her robes flying.



No one had stolen her craft, surely, she thought. She was musing over the possibilities of why her seering skills had diminished. Over the coming weeks the reasons would dawn on her - she was expecting a child. Suffering animal that he was, kept leaving her. He was totally becoming in the turn of his head and the majesty of his physique. His shoulders could pull an oxen cart, and yet the expression of his fingers were so fine and belied the look of him. He said, ha, could she truly believe it, that he had toiled earnestly at tailoring from the age of seven and had served under a master tailor for many years. Well, tailor lad or not, he certainly wore a fine garment and she half believed that he had actually made it - by his own hands and tools.



Horrid, horrid, wonderful man. She had seen him in seership before sighting him in flesh and blood - what a find, but, a problem too. He liked to walk a straighter road than she, and he quizzed her on some of the things she said, and seemed to contemplate her integrity - for heaven's sake. Shocked, she had considered setting any mal deliverance and the like away - for love and sweet hearting, but hmm, was any man worth it - she was undecided - and he was sooo exasperating. Going when and where he liked. Not sitting by her adoringly, and worse still, frowning if he suspected her of any contrivances or off-valour. Where was he supposed to be anyway, probably with that child again and those horrendously huge dogs. She flew off in distaste and went looking for her brother - at least they together, could soothe one another's irritations - similar turn of mind one might say.



Tominas, after being welcomed into hearth and castle, by Cawain's grandfather, mother, siblings, and attendants, had found that he was in no hurry to make more his journey and was in fact expected to stay in full company for all meals. Gogfran had become isolated from social circles and they rarely entertained. The servants and few remaining guards had taken to joining the family for meals and the warmth of the fire and the animals.

In pity for her crooked look, Tominas had set to making a beautiful coat from some material he had found in a box seat whilst dutifully, and happily watching the play acting, charades, and games of the Cerensyrs children. The fabric had once been plush but had slightly decayed but was not ruined by insect due to being packed in lavender, lissom (Melissa?), and jessamy (Jasmine). She was beautiful still. After talking to her over some time, his mind had overlooked her eye of concern. And, he appreciated her good outlook and pleasant conversation, she was quite a companion for a man that had experienced few pleasantries and the softening effect of the presence of woman of queenly disposition. She was apparently still married of some sorts to some kind of perez scoundrel, according to Gogfran, and she had suffered at his merciless and cutting words and character. Tominas was not happy with the situation, he didn't want to think of her fading away through the rest of her years and thought he would try to maintain some kind of connection to the family to look out for Cerensyrs and her children in the years to come. Gogfran was an old man, he wouldn't be able to provide her with security for ever, and god knows whether her husband still had a part to play in her welfare. He had, against his better judgement, become involved with Cerenwyrs, the sister. Oh, she too was a good looking woman but he had realized in a short time that Cerenwyrs could be malicious and gave an air of mal-doings. It was a shame though because she had a sweet side too, but it was shadowed by some kind of bitterness that would occasionally show itself. He intended to distance himself from this sister, and the strange brother. It was easy enough, Cawain, the dogs, and the rest of the family were good company and fine people.



He had still to find Margwynn, he had not quite been able to apply himself to actually locating his cousin though he knew he was probably not much off [4 miles/7km] equidistant to an arc of area where he would most likely be.



He looked at the sun, it was time to head back to the castillon. The fires would need some expertise to crackle up and make for a comforting night - the servants were growing lax in this observance.
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by sweet green ginger on February 11th 2012, 9:31 pm

Curbing his appetite for malcontent essences in the vicinity of the Castillon, Margwynn led his spirit horse to the spring that lay in the fen a furlong from the bottom of the ramparts that led to the back rooms for cleaning animals, holding lighting wood, water barrels and steg-marrs (soaking animal skins), etc.

The chief notion that he had was that he would not be welcome on the inners as his head pulsed with disruptiveness and the mal-efficiens would not take kindly his lack of permissiveness. His mind had turned and he almost did not equate the vas teper (poisoned fangs)of the female living there with the young Cerenwyrs. Olandes and others before him had laid a hand on his heart and it gave him purity of sight and this echoed through every string in his body, it was hard to discount it - he didn't want to. He had no space for taking on anything akin to that which might emanate from putrification. He did afford himself some comiseration though on what might have been a great love story, and toyed with the idea of collecting a wife, who was familiar with the clamaas (the caller, like universal spirit power). He might, he thought be able to yoke her to him and keep her quiet and tame, though yes with exception, he mused, so that she might tap wanton sensuality as befitting of the moment - he thought. Ah, now he was addled, he had thought too long on a dream and had confused himself.

He missed his mother, long gone, he believed. She had not been enough for him, she had not comforted him enough with the warmth of a mother's fat/skin. If she had smiled more he would have taken her away and built her a house, but she was such a lost cause, almost useless in her starvation from the nourishment that a kind word, or some forethought might have given. Poor mother, why did she have to have any blennes (developing fetuses) at all. He had been useless to her and it had kept her reliant on the stony and malevolent husband - his father.

He lit a lamp in his being, and watched as the lamp lights lit cracks and openings at the castillon. He would have to watch his back from now on. He decided to camp in a sycamore grove. He would watch for Tominas as he had seen his journey and the destination in firelight reflections in half sleepy moments. He talked the spirit horse into staying until he fell asleep and bargained that it could go off racing on the open spaces as it chose thereafter. He took some wild barley cake from his pouch and munched it with a piece of sap. Then he took a swig of water from the skin bag and laid out some cake in offering to the horse and to other small animals for goodwill.

The spirit horse laid itself on Margwynn and kept him warm as he fell into sleep - then disappeared into the night.



He was miserable, and he felt like crying and doing something stupid. He recovered though, he was hungry and he needed to urinate (oops I missed this line, it was further up)


Last edited by sweet green ginger on February 11th 2012, 9:37 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : no proof reading)
sweet green ginger
sweet green ginger

Female
Number of posts : 61
Age : 54
Location : australia
Hobbies : symbols
Tell us about yourself : Plain at heart
Appreciation Points : 70
Registration date : 2010-08-25

Back to top Go down

The Merlin Story Empty Re: The Merlin Story

Post by Sponsored content


Sponsored content


Back to top Go down

Back to top


 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum