Thursday, July 28, 2016

Elect Hillary, She's Historic

A Plea to Reject Divisive Politics
Hillary Clinton's quiet supporters explain why they're with her - BBC News
Clinton to give ‘speech of her life’




































She says nothing, because she promises little. She's a centrist. She wants to overturn some of the worst measures - because she been forced to. She does not promise $15.00 - but does  talk college tuition. She realizes high income rates is where the money is. She loves war ... still.

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"songs that seem to have been written by no one."

A Solitary Crow - Ivinia - 2

2 Sea of Elkyri

Alaryr loves the oceans and the sea.
Bronwyne burns the battle where your future lives.
Deanaal is quick to honour the fallen favor.
Easlyn pull the melody for some forget song.
Eynwif guards the tree, where the forgot live.
Freana blesses the hearts of two people in love.
Gresalyne gives battle to shield maidens,
Lynraal wants nothing but blood, to taste with her dirk.
Maarne tends to farm and fields, orchard and flower.
Sendryl crafts weaving for children,for when the sleep.
Ylina lift ones soul with poetry, trippingly on tongue.
Know your path for today – and leave the rest to memory.
The New Wives Song ca. 710 TR

Out through the fjord of Leim, where the depths of the bottom, gave way to the shallows – and then back again – the oak runners were carefully eye by the captain, in case something from underneath came up to swallow them, it was not unusual. Gradually, the mysteries of the ship were revealed – the rowers were black, and did not speak the language – and they were free to leave after this journey. This had been a pattern, everybody on board the ship was only attached for this one journey. The rowers, the Watcher, Green – all were for this one voyage. This was not the way things were done in Ivinia, or elsewhere in the larger universe. Usually be rowers were serfs, or slaves, and the other people were hired at least for a year – if not longer. There was also another person on board the ship, and he – or possibly she – was very tall, at least six and half feet, but he was swallowed from head to toe in a white sheet, almost resembling a shroud. Obviously, this person had said nothing, and kept away from all the rowers, and the passengers and Captain.

Later the next evening they were out of the fjord and into the bay, which suited everyone. There was an easy way, and everyone relaxed. Perhaps it was started by the captain, who stopped looking over the side – and instead looked along the horizon. Perhaps he was looking for a different danger.

For the Watcher, be moment of going from fjord to day was an exact thing – the wind stirred up and blew away the clouds that had hung around them for the length of time from the dock. He suspected that they were not natural, there was the air of magic, perhaps born from a helpmate, and perhaps bed partner, to Sarajin. There is a difference between magic of ones self, and divine intervention, and since they were coming up to the sea named for the helpmates, one would have to be sure of which one was being invoked. That is why the Watcher stared at the captain, and wondered whether he was casting magic, or whether he was invoking. There was a great deal about the captain which defied all logic, of the ordinary kind, and veered into something unworldly. He also noticed that Green and the red Knight were best of friends, and were talking about different things, but were also studiously avoiding talking about the captain, it seems they had some of the same intuitions about him that he did. Which means that they were not close to the captain, but like him, pilfered for a reason, to be let loose when it was time. He wondered if the captain had any real friends. The Watcher was dubious, but would not approach anyone to ask. They were strangers, and did not speak his tongue well, better to be aloof.

But that was not going to be the case, as the Commander, red tunic following him in to the wind, came to talk to him. No one else could hear them, as the wind picked up. The sun was no more than an hour in this very long day from setting, and it captured the essence of this very military man, who for the first time the Watcher saw as being driven by forces that had not been mentioned – the Commander was doing this for someone else, and not one of the people who he had seen.

“What do you want, Commander? While I have looked for danger, I would like to be of use in something more tangible.”

“That is all right, I want you to keep an eye out ships, especially ones which are not populated by humans.”

“What other kind are there? I have heard of many kinds, but have not seen any in my experience. Though many of my companions disagree with me.”

“You have not seen what I have seen, them. There are many kinds, but what I am worried about is a crew of undead – the Gulmovrvin.”

“And you have actually seen these? What does a Gulmovrvin look like? How will I know if I have been visited by them?”

“I have. By sight they look like you or I do.”

“I am not sure what I could do for you.”

“You have the gift of watching intently, and seeing what other people miss. I believe that you will see strange things among the undead, and whether you will know it or not, give warning first.”

“That is quite a compliment, but I do not see how I deserve it.”

“You see a great deal more than other people.”

“Perhaps so, perhaps not. Know your path for today – and leave the rest to chance.” He looked at the Commander, and realized that the Commander did not recognize the allusion that he was using. His loss.

“Just report it you see something amiss with the crew, because I am certain that you will be the first to know. Let us call it faith in your gifts, if you will.” Intoned the Commander.

It was perceptible that he knew something, and the only question was, what was the source – and how detailed was it. He knew Green was a Sindarin – it should be to anyone – he knew that the tall white robed individual was also Elvish, but he did not know which kind. There were dozens of things which he knew about different people he had interacted with, why they did not know was a mystery to him. 

Yes, he knew things about the others which most people would have ignored, even if they saw the signs – but how did the Commander know? Not only did he not know, but the Commander retained as part of his secret – and it annoyed. Perhaps this was intend. It felt like the a mouse caught in a trap, to be eaten alive by cats.

At that moment, something wonderful happened: a large gray minke whale plunged out on the depths, almost to it is dorsal fin – and for just a moment stood before submerging again. This jolted him into action, though he realized that the Commander had moved on, but he found where the red tunic was waving and lock a course in it.

“Commander, you want to have me tell you something... Well I will, that whale should not have left from the ocean.” One can see that he was serious about this.

“I thought whales did this all the time.”

“Dolphins do, Hunter killer whales do, enormous finback whales do. But not the kind that just popped out from the water.”

“Explain to me.”

“Most whales are either quite small, or they have huge flippers to propel themselves with.” He waited for a nod, or other form a confirmation, when he got a nod he continued. “ this has small flippers in proportion to its size.” again, he waited for confirmation, because now he could see that his speech was only to be guest at by his companion, so he had slowed things down, and waited for confirmation. “So this species of whale is loathe to do that.” Wait. “The only reason is that it is either being hunted, or it is in open water.”

The Commander looked out over the ocean, which was becoming blood red, and seemed to understand. “So it must be hunted. What of it?”

“There are only two things that hunt that species of whale. Hunter killers, or when the ocean is deep, squid that are as long as your boat, or even longer. But such creatures do not come in to where islands live.” He hope it would get through to him, but apparently not. “We saw no school of hunters in this area, we were under clouds and fog almost the entire time.” He did not mention that the fog-clouds were peculiar, and might be man-made.

Then light dawned on the Commander's face.:“So what you are saying is it is odd that it jumped up, since neither hunting, nor open ocean joy, could be responsible.”

“Indeed, so we should watch out, because I have the feeling we will find what caused it. Because the other possibility is that it wants us to follow, knowing that we are not a whaling vessel.”

They both looked out over the tide, and stared for whatever event was coming. Because now they both know there was one coming, probably – or that they had made a friend from under the water.

The Watcher stayed on deck, monitoring the changing of the guards, before retiring to find a place to sleep. There were no staterooms, or even an area for bunkbeds – he imagined that people used the small ramp waves between the benches, or just sat up on them if need be. Of course, it was dark below, with only three candles exuding light. You had to walk beneath the keel, for that was a sacred trust – nothing could be allowed there. He asked each one of the seats, and saw in each case men blacker than any he had seen, he did not know where they came from, or what their heritage was. He was bothered by them, but not in the way that certain things bothered him. There were certain things which were an alarm, and needed to be attended to – but the faces were not of that species. They were just different, and he would get use to them.

Then he came to a seat and what surprised him was that a man was reading from a book – torn on the edges, but still a book. This surprised him for many reasons, and he decided to touch this man, and asked him where he had learned to read. The script was not runic, but he had seen it before – on the letterings and numberings found in merchants script, they used Lakise, which was from the continent.
“Where did you get that book?” speaking in Hânic, which was the only language that he spoke, and he spoke it with a drawl which could only identify him as from the north.

The reader slowly turned his eyes up to him, and slowly replied back, in another version Hârnic – but an understandable one. “I got this to understand the merchant's tongue, which I was told would be -” he reached for a word - “good in all sections of the world, at least by someone who had the badge.” By which he meant carrying a merchants guild symbol.

There was a nod from the Watcher. “So it must be a language dictionary.”

The reader puzzled over this, and then got what the Watcher was trying to get across. “It is a group of stories, which teaches how to use different parts of words. Of course it tells it from the point of view of Larani, who is worshiped in the South. She is a reluctant warrior.” The last few words were Larani's trademark, and were easily off his tongue because he had heard them many times. At this point, the Watcher moved his head, that is ending the conversation – but he would remember that face, because at least they had a common basis of communication. Neither of them spoke it well mind you, but in time they would get things across.

And he would remember the etching of Larani, because it was new to him – it covered the outside of the book. She, in this picture, was pure and tranquil in nature – not something that he saw very often – even if her red and white checker shield had a note of defiance. He wonder whether the Commander was a worshiper of the goddess. He put that thought away for more consideration.

Finally, he alighted on the prow blank, with the Skald next to him. At first, he was just going to sleep – but he noticed in her hands squares which had runes written on one side. He watched as she shuffled them, realizing that she was practicing a ritual, that was almost certainly for prediction. He had seen this before, and incidentally watched her. But only after some few moments, she lifted her head and gazed back in to his eyes. “Do you want something?” There was something in her voice which was standoffish, not that he minded this at all, because he had been rude to watch and not comment.

“I apologize if I did anything wrong, no strike that, I know I did something wrong, and I am sorry for it.” He hoped that his face showed that he meant it. There was a wilt on his lips.

“Pray thee, many fine words for your gift.” An old reply, and perhaps, to loosen the tone of her conversation.

“I did not know that you were allowed to do that.” The graces nearby are more foreign to us.

“In the city I am allowed to, I would, I not know what is allowed in hamlets and villages, but these are not places that we frequent.” She was standoffish, though not quite boorish – maybe abrupt.

“I would say that the goings on of my village do not count since we are on a ship which has things left to offer me, and I am learning a great deal. So, again, I am sorry, I seem to have offended you again.” There was a light, and low, sense of forgiveness to his words, but an edge to them.

“I was told that your village took unkindly to different ways, and that it was a Viking place. We prefer to trade with people, it is our way.” It was she was trying to back to her runes.

“It is interesting that people from far away, we reach out to them on the smallest of circumstance. Even if it is a language which either of us speak well. But when we are close, but not to close – such as a a Viking villager and a highly praised member of a town – we divide ourselves, even though we have a great deal more in common with each other.” He wasn't going to let her.

“I have heard this many times from many other people.” She clamped her mouth shut, though it was that she would like to say more. But she turned her face down to the runes, and pretended to practice her divination. The Watcher took this has a sign that the conversation was over, but as he huddled down to sleep, she amended, and added: “We will have to speak more at some point, but I need to polish my casting.” And with that he fell asleep, and gifted, at first to nothingness.

In his sleep a dream alighted, only he did not now where it came from. At first, he did know it was even a dream, just a drumming in his head. But then he realized, that even drumming in his head was a kind of a dream – then it had a picture, of a boat which had rigging and sails, and no oars. He saw it come out of the distance, slowly forming, until it had a full length or loop and main deck – and even to raised areas – a forcastle and a quarter deck. It was nothing like the long ships that he was used to. 

But even that was not the have of what was strange about it – it was the glimmering light that came from between the spaces on the oak beams. It was deep in the belly – unlike the dragon ship.

It was odd, because he had never seen the like of it before. And in fact, every detail of it was new and different, as opposed to being a melange of things he used to see. This to market as something other than a normal dream, he was sure of that.

Then it vanished and he returned to slumber, with just a nagging sensation that this was not memory, which most dreams were of, what foreknowledge. That kind of slumber which is infected by something outside. He would remember this stream, and even awake wondered what it was. It had such detail. There was also equipoise to it that made him sure that it was not something that he created.

When he woke up, he turned over the ship in his mind, trying to remember if he had seen the ship before. But if he had, he did not recall it. Though he did rack his brains over the matter, whether it was real or a picture in a larger book – because of course he could read quite well, which was not the case among his companions. He even had a dozen books by his bed, some given to him by his mother, and three were his own – which he prized greatly.

The other thing which bothered him, was he should not have used “I” so often when talking to a woman – particularly a Skald. He had learned from his mother that that was rude, very rude – and his mother was not Ivinian, but from the regions on the continent, where manners were more particular, and the gods and goddesses that they worshiped were more refined, and demanded that each phrase be uttered as if it depended upon it, as opposed to being, in Ivinia, the last thing that you ever uttered.


 “Forgiving mother, I have sinned against your goddesses.” Which was not the first time he had.

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