I got tagged by the beautiful @filinprinsessa! Thank you, friend!
Rules: List fifteen things that make you happy, and then tag fifteen people. lol nah, I am lazy and still really effing tired.
1. Dark Chocolate Bullets.
2. Beer.
3. Gigolas.
4. The Sansukh cast. A more wonderful, creative, inspiring, energetic and motivated bunch of folks, I have never met in my life.
5. My dumb noisy opinionated ancient bag of bones currently masquerading as a cat.
6. My students.
7. Singing.
8. Composing (heck, music in general? Okay, consider that topic now covered in all its permutations)
9. A really good writing session, when the words come easily and the scenarios just flash before your eyes and it feels like your fingers can’t race fast enough to capture it all.
10. LOTR.
11. Galaxy Quest: my turn-my-brain-off comfort film.
12. Not having to wash up.
13. Terry Pratchett’s entire body of work.
14. My husband.
15. My amazing, clever, funny, incredible little child, who only grows more beautiful and fascinating and wonderful with every day that passes.
As previously stated: Ain’t gonna tag anybody, but if you wanna do the thing, do the thing and tell ‘em I sent you 😉
The following is the utterly jawdropping work of my now nearly sixteen-month-old child. I hope you agree that she has come a long way since her first forays into literature!
i shouldn’t have read the sansûkh sneak peek. now im super emotional and even more impatient for the next chap. like seriously !!! first all the angst !!! w/ my bbys bifur and bombur !!! and then !!!! barís !!! and bani !!! and thira teasing barís !!!!! hsjsjkdlaööaöslkwjqlösjs my heart cannot take this
no but seriously determamfidd is a gift to us all & i can forgive her for ruining my life w/ this fic purely because it’s so awesome
sorry sorry about the delay! I AM TRYING I STG, but my sick Dwarfling sorta takes precedence (a cold and an ear infection, LOVELY. Fun times here!)
I have the whole chapter plotted out, plus some of Ch40 as well. I am planning something pretty special for the big 4-0, to reward all lovely readers for their patience! Thank you so much, and I’m SO THRILLED you enjoyed the sneak peek! (Thira is my unexpected fave atm, she is so amazing I love her – and Baris you sweetie, go get your lady ❤ )
soooo – Guilty Writer Problems Part the #768209th – when you say you will get a chapter finished by blah-blah date, and don’t. *cringe* I am so sorry. All I can say in my defense is: the Dwarfling is sick. She is so so gloopy and tired and miserable, and it’s like a hook in my heart. We’re off to the doctor again today. Plus, I have had a stream of family visitors over the last two weeks (my mum last week, MIL this week…) – PLUS new job. SIIIIGH.
Anyway, I DID manage to complete and clean up one small scene last week, and so as an apology, here it is. It’s only 2K or so. BUT BARIS. Also THIRA. And… uh, badass angst? IDEK.
Thank you for your patience and for putting up with my current flakiness. I hope you enjoy… whatever the heck this is! *hugs*
Sansûkh Sneak Peek (Draft) – Ch 39
It was very cold in the place of the tombs. Bombur looked
about, and shivered a little. His head was still spinning from the stars of
Gimlin-zaram.
“Why here?” he wondered aloud.
“Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea,” said Bifur
worriedly, and he patted at Bombur’s back absently as he spoke. “Perhaps it’s
too soon. We should…”
“I’m fine, barafun,” Bombur said in his soft voice, and he
squared his shoulders and lifted his round, pleasant face. “I’m all right.”
“He’d want his braid done proper – properly, I mean,” said
the Dwarrowdam before them stubbornly, catching her slip of the tongue and
correcting it almost absent-mindedly. “I can do it. Besides, it’s not like I
can do for my.” She stopped, and then looked down at her fingers.
“You needn’t explain it to me, child,” said the Queen – no,
the Queen Dowager – tiredly.
“She looks a century older,” Bifur whispered, but Bombur had
no eyes for anything but his eldest daughter.
“Our special little starling, our surprise baby she was,” he
said, staring fixedly at her. Her brown hair was caught in a plain
working-braid, her beard unadorned and her dress old and threadbare. Her
sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The uniform of a nasty, mucky job.
The Dwarrowdam sighed and scrubbed at her eyes for a moment,
and then returned to the business of twisting thick, white hair into two long
braids. His arms ached with the need to hold his little girl again. She
sniffled, and rubbed at her nose. It was red.
Bombur gripped at Bifur’s arm, and his eyes stung and
prickled. “Ah, Barís. Don’t cry, poppet.”
Baris wiped her forearm across her eyes again, and then
broke off with a muttered curse to fumble for a handkerchief. The resulting blurt was embarrassingly loud in the
cold and silent crypt.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and pocketed her handkerchief as her
cheeks flushed a dull pink.
The Queen was seated beside her, her hand tightly clasping a
cold and lifeless one. Bombur glanced down at the bench before them once more –
and then hurriedly turned his eyes away from the wreck that was the remains of
the King. “No apology needed,” she said.
“I just.” Barís waved a hand at the corpse. Bifur’s warm arm
under his fingers was the only thing keeping Bombur from rushing over to try
and gather her up in a hug.
“No, no apology.” Thira repeated, and she finally looked up
at where Barís stood. “I did not lay out my parents. They were Burned Dwarves:
I never prepared them to return to the stone. I’ve never done this before
either.” She swallowed hard. “I did not expect to do so for him. Not him.”
Thira smiled. There was no true warmth in it. “Aye, well. He
was good at seeming.”
“At least you can return him to the stone,” Barís said
eventually. “At least you have that.”
Thira laid a gentle hand on Barís’ forearm. “We will
retrieve them. Him. Barís, my son will see to it. I swear to you! You will have
your father’s body, to mourn and to bury.”
Barís’ lips tightened. “I wish–” she blurted, and checked
herself. Then she scrubbed at her face again. “What bloody use is wishing,
though? My Papa is dead, and wishing won’t bring him back.”
“Bombur, khulel: I’m here,” said Bifur,
low. “I’m here.”
Bombur nearly bit through the inside of his cheek.
“If wishes were pigs, we’d all be riding,” Thira said, and
laughed joylessly. “He used to say that.”
“He called me poppet,” Barís said. Her beautiful voice was
rough and wretched. “And I had that Mahal-cursed idea. And it killed him. My
papa.”
“Oh no, no you don’t get to do that, darling girl,” Bombur
said with sudden heat. “Not your fault. Not your fault it didn’t work, and not
your fault I chose to go out there with my bum leg an’ all!”
Thira’s glance was hard and sharp. “You tried to save us
all. No knife in your hands, Master-singer.”
Barís bent her head. “I wish,” she said again.
“My husband did the same as you: tried to save us all. So
did your father.” Thira shrugged one shoulder: a careless-looking movement,
though her expression was anything but. “So did many others, many who tried and
died. Will you claim their deaths as well?”
Barís’ mouth contorted as she struggled with her sobs. “My
uncle…”
“Aye.” Thira looked back down at the pallid, drained,
withered shape of her husband. Without the enormous force of his personality,
it was easy to see how old he was – how tired and shrivelled. “He chose too.
Chose to try to save the Bizarunh. Do not make his choice into your failing.
Will you strip them of their decisions in your haste to condemn yourself?”
Barís made a terrible broken sound, deep in her throat.
Thira kept gazing with endless longing at what had been Dáin
Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain. His white beard was clean and now braided
neatly, covering the terrible wounds upon his chest and arms. His skin was free
of blood and mud, pale and parchment-dry to look upon, the eyelids closed,
hollows beginning to sink upon his cheeks and either side of the sharp
Durinesque nose.
“Sometimes things don’t work,” she said slowly, in a
distant, almost dreamy voice. “Sometimes the best ideas, the best intentions,
go wrong. And that may not be the fault of anyone – or it could be the fault of
everyone. In another world, it might have worked. Who is to say? Without the
tunnel, would the Dalefolk ever have made it to the sanctuary of the Mountain?
Would Dale be a smoking graveyard now, if not for Bofur and Bombur and my silly
old boar? Would bright little Gimizh be dead, or perhaps the Crown Prince of
Dale dead, all those trapped underground slaughtered, if not for my Thorin and
your father? If not for the diversion of Dáin? If Brand had not decided to ride
out to meet him?
“And either way – what does that matter? Things are as they are. They are gone back to the stone,
and we are here. And life goes on. We remember. You sang that song, did you
not? You carry that with you always now. That moment… it’s a part of you. This
moment is a part of me.” She tipped back her head and her eyes fixed upon the
roof with its ornate and solemn carvings. “We’re all just moments and choices,
in the end.”
“And now I know why canny, shrewd old Dáin Ironfoot chose an
unknown and crowd-shy steelsmith to wed,” whispered Bombur. Bifur grunted in
agreement, his face serious and set.
Barís closed her eyes, and eventually she nodded. Her mouth
was still pressed in an ugly line, twitching every now and then as she barely
controlled her emotions. “I know, your Majesty,” she said in barely a murmur. “But I still
wish I’d never thought of it.”
“I can sympathise. I often wish – wished – that my idiot
husband didn’t have a thing about saving the day at the last minute,” Thira
said, and smiled a little. Unlike before, it was a true smile. “Come now, Barís.
We are to become family, you needn’t be so deferential. My son and your sister,
eh?”
“Little idiot,” Barís sniffled, and tied off a long white
braid, laying it respectfully down upon the King’s still and lifeless chest. “I
can’t believe her.”
“I think it’s wonderful.” Thira’s hand fumbled for the cold,
stiffened one again, and upon finding it she squeezed a little. “So wonderful.
He would have been thrilled.”
“Papa too.” Barís rubbed her eyes one last time, and then
sighed out, long and tired. “He spoiled all my nieces and nephews outrageously,
and they would climb all over his chair and pull at his nose and beard and ask
for sweets and stories.”
“She hasn’t called me Papa for thirty years,” Bombur said in
a faint little voice. “I was Dad or Adad, she called me… after the Quest, after
the money…”
“She didn’t need to, did she?” Bifur pointed out. “You’ve
always been Papa.”
“But it all changed, we all changed so much.” Bombur pulled
a little at his looped braid. “We… she got taught to speak more proper, and
stopped calling me Papa.”
“Looks like she never stopped where it counted.” Bifur
turned back to his cousin, and gently rubbed Bombur’s back. “There there, lad.
You get used to it.”
“The Council has been clamouring for a wedding,” Thira
snorted, and then shook her head and smiled down at Dáin’s still face. “How you
would have laughed at them, dear. Insisting on proper Ereborean protocol in the
middle of war.”
“Bomfrís is still panicking a little about that. Well, I say
‘a little’…” Barís laughed wetly, and then sighed again. Her shoulders relaxed
from their stiff, guarded posture. “What else can I help with? He’s clean, and
his hair is as it should be…”
Thira’s dark eyes glittered. “Always so helpful, hmm?”
Barís blinked.
“Don’t think I haven’t missed you hovering around my forge, Master-singer.
For all your grand performer’s tricks, you’re rather unobtrusive, aren’t you?
Always helpful, always willing.” Thira cocked her head. “Now, what is so
fascinating about my workrooms in particular, I wonder? Not a wiry old
steelsmith, Durin forbid.”
A flush rose on Barís’ sweet, round face, and she coughed
awkwardly. “I… want to be useful.”
“To one of my craftsmasters in particular, hmm.” Thira
huffed a little laugh. “I haven’t missed that either, young Alrísul. For a
trained artist, you aren’t the most subtle of actors.”
“Must we speak of it now? Here?” Barís said plaintively.
Then she scrubbed at her eyes again. “Oh, what use is anything anyway.”
“Now is the best
time to speak of it,” said Thira. “This is an ending. Go make a beginning,
child.”
“Easy for you to say.” Barís glowered down at Dáin’s
peaceful old face.
“No. No it isn’t easy for me to say.” Thira said, and her
voice was suddenly sharp and cold, like steel striking steel. “My love lies
here before us, without breath or life. It is not easy for me to say.”
“Forgive me,” Barís said quickly. “I mean, I just. I don’t
know where to begin. Sometimes I think Bani doesn’t even know my name…”
Thira’s eyes softened. Then her hand reached out once more,
and she squeezed Barís’ shoulder in reassurance. Her hard, thin fingers were wiry
and tough. “Remember, choices and moments, Barís,” she said kindly. “Bani is a
single-minded sort of lass, and gets lost in her work. She gets irritated
easily by any sort of interruption, and she often forgets to eat in her zeal.”
Baris digested that for a moment, and then she gave the
Queen Dowager a helpless sort of look. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Thira squeezed Barís’ shoulder again. “It’ll come to you, child.
The moment will arrive, and with it, your choice.”
“Is that the one Barís has been sweet upon, then?” Bombur
wondered. “Alrís wouldn’t tell me.”
Bifur nodded. “Bani daughter of Bana, a woodsmith. Very
clever, very clumsy, very impatient. And very
unobservant,” he added sourly.
Barís’ face scrunched up with indecision. “But… what if it
all goes wrong again?” she mumbled.
“Then that is the way of things, isn’t it?” Thira smoothed
back Dáin’s shock of white hair, standing high over his forehead. Her rough
fingers lingered there. “But remember this, Crystaltongue. Sometimes, if you’re very brave, very honest, very lucky… sometimes, for a time, it goes right.”
Then the Queen Dowager looked up and smiled at the
master-singer. There was grief in that smile, naturally – but Bombur could see
the shade of a young smith with steady, fire-touched eyes and smooth skin in
it: the ghost of the Dwarrowdam that had captured the heart of Dáin Ironfoot.
“And if you’re very, very lucky?” she said softly, “it keeps on going right, and keeps on going right. And it’s just – just always there, always right, all your life long. Until one day, perhaps one hundred and thirty years later, your luck finally runs out. And it ends.”
Rules: once you’ve been tagged you’re supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. at the end choose 25 people to be tagged. you have to tag the person who tagged you: The Mighty Battlepig! flamesburnonthemountainside
what was your:
last drink: COFFEE last phone call: Mum. last text message: A student, panicking about losing their sheet music. JOY. last song you listened to:Ombra Mai Fu, by Handel. SO BEAUTIFUL. Love Handel. (It was for work!) last time you cried: Yesterday, I think… idk. I get angry and low, and then I cry with frustration. And then I bounce back… ish.
have you ever:
dated someone twice: No. been cheated on: Uh, my partner once kissed someone else, but they told me about it the very next day. I was furious, but I forgave them in time. kissed someone and regretted it: Yep. Whoops. lost someone special: Yes. been depressed: LOL HAHAHA been drunk and thrown up: yes list three favourite colours: Red, blue, dove grey
in the last year have you:
made a new friend: Lots! *waves at Sansukh cast* HIIII, HI MY LOVES, HI THERE, YOU ARE ALL SUCH WONDERFUL FOLKS fallen out of love: No laughed until you cried: Yes met someone who changed you: Yes. found out who your true friends are: Thankfully I was already p aware of this. I have found that a few of said people are truly stellar human beings, who are there for me when I can’t even be there for myself. found out someone who was talking about you: Yeah, but tbh, I couldn’t give a damn anymore. *shrug* Dust under my chariot wheels. kissed anyone on your fb friends tumblr follower list: Nah.
general:
how many people on your fb friends tumblr follower do you know in real life: None, unfortunately. FILI WE MUST MEET SOON, I MEAN IT. do you have any pets: 1 ancient cat, she is roughly the age of Methuselah, also a total smoochface. do you want to change your name: nope what did you do for your last birthday: Went down to NSW to see my family, had a nice dinner. what time did you wake up today: LOL, which time? First time was 3:30am. My daughter is teething again, and has a very gloopy unpleasant cold 😦 Second time was at 6:30am or so, and was the one that stuck. what were you doing at midnight last night: SLEEEEEEEEPING. name something you cannot wait for: CHAPTER 3 OF THE SANSUKH PODFIC, PAGES OF SANSUKH GRAPHIC NOVEL, FINISHING THE NEXT BLOODY CHAPTER, SCHOOL HOLIDAYS, SEEING OFF THIS GODAWFUL COLD, MY LITTLE TODDLER BUBBA SAYING ‘MUMMY’ FOR THE FIRST TIME last time you saw your mother: Wednesday. She came to visit! what are you listening to right now: The Dwarfling is watching ‘In the Night Garden’ atm (Mr Dets calls it ‘Derek Jacobi Takes A Trip’ !) have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yep. what’s getting on your nerves right now: Passive aggression, annoying stage mothers, cold feet, cold viruses that attack little children. blood type: A+ nickname: Dets, Bam-Bam relationship status: Married zodiac sign: Pisces Pronouns: she/her favourite tv show: Uhhh, dunno, lots of shows. Blackadder, Red Dwarf, League of Gentlemen, Agents of Shield, yadda yadda, the list goes on forever. I am watching re-runs of the Checkout on ABC Iview right now. tattoos: none, but dain-mothafocka has suggested I get a Sansukh tattoo! right or left: Right first surgery: I’ve never had surgery. Brrr. Good. I am actually pretty phobic about it. first piercing: Earlobes first best friend: is still my best friend. We met when we were 5 years old. 27 years later, she is still my bestie, and was my bridesmaid at my wedding. I miss her a lot, even if she can be flaky and self-absorbed sometimes. first sport you joined: Dancing. I did ballet, jazz, contemporary, national character and demi-character dance for nearly 17 years. Now my feet are disgusting. first vacation:Bribie Island, I think? When I was two years old. first pair of trainers: ????? I wouldn’t remember.
right now:
eating: Nothing atm. Lunch coming up! drinking: Mr Dets just made me an aeropress coffee ❤ ❤ ❤ i’m about to: Feed the Dwarfling her lunch (slow-cooked lamb shoulder casserole, that I made last week) listening to: In the Night Garden is over – now it’s Sesame Street. Poor Bert, everyone is so dumb. waiting for: the washing machine to finish. want kids: Got that covered, thanks. We’re pretty sure that we only want the one. The Dwarfling is a magical little person. get married: *ticks it off* Married for six years now. career: I have a lovely new job, as a singing teacher. I am also probably going to pick up my Masters of Education (again) next year.
which is better:
lips or eyes: Better at what? I don’t think eyes are very good at breathing, for example. hugs or kisses: YES PLS.
shorter or taller: I am a shortarse, and proud. romantic or spontaneous: Both, but depends on the timing. Seriously – a spontaneous kiss when you are cooking or baby-wrangling or whatever is irritating, not swoonworthy. nice stomach or nice arms: Define ‘nice’? Because I like comfy tummies and chunky arms. sensitive or loud: I am actually a p quiet person in real life. I can be loud, but it drains me after a time. hook up or relationship: relationship trouble maker or hesitant: HESITANT. Always.
have you ever:
kissed a stranger: Yes drank hard liquor: yes. sex on the first date: nope broke someone’s heart: Doubt itttt (does Sansukh count?) had your own heart broken: Nope. been arrested: No cried when someone died: yes. fallen for a friend: nah
do you believe in:
yourself: Sometimes. miracles: Nah love at first sight: Different strokes for different folks. It wasn’t my experience, however. santa claus: Nope kiss on the first date: Again – whatever works for you. angels: Nope.
Hey my friends, I am so so sorry I haven’t been around. New job kicking my butt + life, the universe and etc etc.
I am sloooooowly getting a handle on everything, though. It’s been a rough few weeks, won’t lie. But I’m getting a grip. YAY ME.
(pictured: an approximation of me rn. Except the cat is more graceful than I am. Not pictured: crying, flailing, hiding, racing around trying to do everything at once, zillions of hoops (to jump through, in order to organise childcare), mountainous piles of paperwork, teenagers, bureaucracy, education in general, a house that is teetering towards chaos.)
I am about 2K into Chapter 39! YESSSS. I hope to have it done next week. Call it my super-mega-giga apology for being so absent and generally non-communicative. I am so so sorry if I worried you. I am okay. Stressed and frazzled and staggering a bit, but okay.
I actually really love my new job, I should say. I absolutely adore it, and the kids are great. Just. Their parents… aren’t always as great. And I have been loaded with so many students that I am reeling a little. And then I get to come home to be primary childcarer to an INCREDIBLY active 13-month old toddler, and completely collapse once she’s asleep… or alternatively, work until midnight, and THEN collapse. This is tough – I have nothing but admiration for those who are single parents. SERIOUSLY.
Bit by bit I am getting myself back under control, though. It’s not fast!! But I am getting there. *crosses fingers* Missed you all. Again, I am super sorry.
Hellooooooo Australian! And A BRISSY!! I’m in Runcorn. We’ll have to drag theladyzephyr and determamfidd out one time.
As long as you ladies understand that you will be GREATLY DISAPPOINTED TO MEET MY GROSSLY OBESE ARSE. Yes. You may hide and avoid me forever.
Yes.
BUT FOR NOW, HELLO, HOW ARE YOU DEAREST NICE TO MEET YOU TAKE MY LOVE!
NO BUBS NO NO NEVAAAAR you will be so so underwhelmed by me I stg i am a mouse
I’m on the northern GC, doesn’t take me long at all to get into Brissy! I’d have to drag the Dwarfling along – so brace yourself for the Oncoming Babble. 🙂
WHOA – no, no absolutely not, Nonnie! Sansukh is now 2 years old (omfg, have I ever spent two years on a project, i don’t think so) and the Dwarfling is 1. I am not that heroic!!!
Ahhh, thank you! She had a great day – so many visitors, so many presents! And I made a cake with dark chocolate fudge icing that looked like a little brown owl, and it tasted delicious. Proud Mummy moment 🙂
She is absolutely pooped after such a big weekend, and we’re all a little bit people-d out, I think. But it was a roaring success, and she had a wonderful time! I can’t believe it’s a year!
Aw Yiss 