Thursday, July 28, 2011

Whence?

I haven't touched this blog for almost a year now. Not due to lack of interest so much as inability to be interested in much of anything. I was in the process of moving, which kept me occupied for
six weeks after my last post, then on the day of the move my now former neighbours did what they had been threatening to do since they had moved in: they killed my cat Ysaeran. Then they took his body, threw it into the dumpster my landlord had placed in the yard, and covered him with bags and garbage, I'm assuming in the hopes that I wouldn't find him and would just leave.

I did get moved, but I haven't been able to write much of anything since. I'm hoping to change that, and one of the little steps I'm making is taking up the blog again. In the past year I've moved to a wonderful room with kitchen and bath privileges, been helping my landlady foster some cats, was awarded disability, so I can pay for my snug room, started a garden, and then fractured my fibula and damaged my MCL. We also lost one of our foster cats, Troy, to FeLV. Despite it being quite contagious, so far no one else has developed it, and I'm praying that they don't.


Hopefully soon I'll get back into the water and get my knee into better shape, and with that will be devouring fresh garden produce, and hopefully preserving some of it. If anyone has any actual questions, or ideas for posts, feel free to comment on them.

What I just finished reading:

Ghost Story by Jim Butcher. Yes, I pre-ordered it from Amazon, but not for the kindle, since the hardcover was in fact cheaper. I read it all in about 4 hours, but I want to read it over again before I review it.

My First Fan-Fic

This is the first bit of fan-fic I've ever written. It's based on J.R.R. Tolkien's Children of Hurin. It's not meant to explain anything, just to evoke how the end of it make me feel, and how I think she felt. I hope you enjoy it.

Cabed Naeramarth


"He is dead. He is dead." Her heart pounded in time with the knowledge.
She ached as she ran, but she ignored it, as she ignored the kicking of her
unborn child, and the sobs that tore through the gasps for air. Long ago she had
run, all unknowing, her mind clouded by a spell, and again she ran, trying to
outrun the undoing of the spell, and the ruin that had resulted.

She could not hear the song of the river Taeglin. Indeed, she could hear nothing
but cries for her to end the abomination that her life had become. The child in
her womb seemed to be crying out to her as well, begging to be spared the light
of day, to die safe and unknown within its mother's body.

Niniel. No, not Niniel, not wife. But she remembered the feel of his body against
hers, his lips on hers, the passion they had shared as husband and wife. The
twin curses had done their work well, for despite knowing the truth, she still
longed for the man she loved passionately, husband, not brother, lying dead behind
her. Turin, not Turambar, as she was Nienor, not Niniel.

Cabed-en-Aras seemed to beckon her. She tried to cast away the remembrance of
being Niniel, wife of Turambar, to remember she was Nienor, sister of Turin.

"Farewell twice beloved! Water! Take now Nienor, daughter of Hurin, Mourning
daughter of Morwen, mourning mother. Take me and bear me to the Sea!"

Niniel leapt.

More reading options:

I love, love my kindle. I still love books, but my kindle is wonderful! It's convenient, easy to read, I can bring along dozens of books, and there are so many fantastic books in the public domain that I really haven't spent much on books.