( 11 Poems of WTF??? )
Hear that? Tolkien just rose from his grave to cut some throats.
|You're viewing dreamingfifi's journal|
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More
This weeping willow,Composed during my tumultuous first semester of college:
I stood under,
I told it my hopes, troubles, and worries,
Its branches droop lower,
Its branches conceal me,
This weeping willow listens,
When no one else will.
I dreamt I was pelted with roses,
and on every petal was inscribed:
“Ah, I didn't see you there; forgive me,” Kogorou said, stepping aside.As you can see, it is as confusing and incoherent as Kogorou would find it.
The woman with a long nose and carefully fluffed brown hair looked confused a moment, then said, “Aimu sari, ai dina kachi za. Kudju ripii za?”
Kogorou blinked, uncomprehending. What was this strange amalgamation of sounds this woman was spewing?
Conan sighed loudly behind him and answered the woman. Ran tugged him aside and whispered, “It's English; Dad, they're speaking in English.”
I stood back, surprised. To me, it'd looked like the tree and sprung to life, but now, I realized I was looking at an Elf. A real, live elf. The elf backed up a step, hands up to show she wasn't holding any weapons. “Goheno nin. Ú-ethilen dhe thostad.”Another situation that you may come across is a bilingual character. You need some way to distinguish the fact that they're speaking another language, but it needs to be in plain English. I suggest putting the dialogue in the other language in italics (no more than that though, too many layers of italics, bolding, and underlining can be distracting) or simply mention in the narration that they're speaking this other language now.
I blinked. What was this “thostad,” and did it hurt?
Ah, I didn't see you there; forgive me,” Kogorou said, stepping aside.In scenes such as this, using the foreign language in the dialogue makes sense. Most of the time, just don't.
The woman with a long nose and carefully fluffed brown hair looked confused a moment, then said in English, “I'm sorry; I didn't catch that. Could you repeat that?”
Kogorou blinked, uncomprehending. Conan sighed loudly behind him and answered the woman, “He just apologized for bumping into you. He's very sorry.”
Ran scowled down at Shinichi, hands on her hips. “Stop using my name without honorifics. Little boys should call older girls 'Neesan.' I'm older than you.”Now the reader will know the significance of Shinichi addressing Ran as Ran-neesan when in his child-form, and they get some insight into Shinichi's situation and personality.
Shinichi looked down, inspecting the floor. He hated being reminded of his condition. “Yes Ran-neesan,” he mumbled to his toes.
“I don't think I heard you. Say it again.”
He glared back up at her. “I wanna go home, Ran-neesan!”
My fingers brushed across the net the Elfwoman had tucked my hair into. I'd never seen such a device before, but it was holding in all of the stray hairs with ease.In the scene, we get a taste of Elven hair-styles by having the elf character teach our human about Elven hairnets.
The Elf tugged gently on the net. “Cathrae,” she said, clearly pleased with my reaction.
“It's a cathrae.” I said, tasting the word.
“Ma!” she said grinning. “Cathrae.”
Once home, she absentmindedly stuffed her shoes into the kutsubako, a small shelf by the door that they put their shoes away in.Or, it can be as simple as this.
I always could see gods. They are shadows, vague shapes, but sometimes they’ll take the form of something from my memory. If they are dangerous, they’ll take the shape of something that frightens me. If they benevolent, they’ll take the shape of something that comforts me. They each have their own personalities too… some are mischievous, some are shy, some love attention and being doted on. They like to live in statues and shrines. Other’s care little about humans. They have important jobs to do, like moving clouds and making goats mate.
I was eight years old when I realized I was seeing gods. I was traveling with my family, taking fresh wool from the herders on the mountain, to the River City. We stopped to pay homage to the local gods, as one must do when traveling through their territory. (if you don’t, they might become vengeful) and I saw a man who looked like a king that I’d seen a glimpse of being carried by a dozen slaves. He wore bangles and fine skins, and jewels were everywhere on him – even strung on wires that ran through his skin. When he saw us coming to pay homage to the great statue, he became very excited, and started kissing the dying flowers in the offering bowl. To our amazement, the flowers came back to life and blossomed anew. My grandmother, who also is our shaman, told my father that this was a good omen. This god would protect us through its land. We gave it offerings of dyed wool.
I thought differently. Hadn’t they seen the king-magician kissing the flowers? While they told me there was no such man, and that the king I spoke of was far, far away from us, he stepped between us to stare at me. Instead of hunching over to get a better look, he simply shrunk to my height.
“I look like a king to you?” he asked.
I nodded. My grandmother took it as a sign that I’d been corrected, and they went about getting the great ox to move again.
He puffed out his chest and grinned wide. “Most people see only my house,” he said, pointing at the statue.
I looked at my parents, who were busy snapping at slaves. They still didn’t notice him.
“It’s solid wood,” I whispered, turning away so they couldn’t see me talking. “There’s no space for someone to live.”
“I don’t need space,” he said. Then he slipped into the statue, and out of sight. I could still feel his presence though. “I am Nagoy, the Road Guardian!” he shouted in his most mighty voice. “I give flowers their perfume!”
“How does that help guard the road?”
“It doesn’t,” he popped his head out of the statue, “but it’s fun.”
“Does this mean that you are the god of the road then?” I asked.
“Of course I am! I live in the statue, don’t I?”
“My family is traveling through your land, will you take care of us?”
He paused a moment, and chewed on his lips. “I might miss more offerings. And my home is here, not the entire road.”
“What if I gave you a new home?” I scurried over to the cart with the bag full of woolen dolls from the mountains, and pulled out a doll with wool jewelry stitched into it. “It looks like you.”
His eyes widened with glee. “You’ll carry me with you? Will you show me lots of flowers?”
“We travel everywhere. My mom says that we have traveled to every place with a name in the world!”
With that, he left his wooden statue and jumped into my doll. “I am Nagoy the Caravan Guardian!” he shouted in his mighty voice. “I give the flowers of all of the named places their perfume!”
Never had we had a sweeter smelling journey.
Index | Next Chapter
See that mountain there?
A powerful witch lives there.
She stops death there.
Her valley is fruitful there.
Her people never die there.
All you need is to get there,
With a token of your God there,
Learn handspeech and live there.