The Tale of Llyn (originally posted on Anagennese)

Originally Posted by rez

I don't feel right logging on to Ana.

I thought it was an exclusive community for special old TWC guys. Can you post it here Manji?

Anagennese is in no way an exclusive board nor is it only for old TWC guys. Feel free to drop by anytime. Anyway, here is the piece of cr@p posted there:

Chapter I


I walked around the laying bodies of the fallen, avoiding them as well as I could. The small plain between Carrogh and Merthan was filled with the dead, their bodies being stripped naked and the spoils carried to the wagons by the servants and the woman. The crows had descended from the forests and were feeding on the carrion, their noises filling the noon air. I walked toward Ambrós who was hunched over a large body and as I came near I noticed he was trying to remove the head from the body with a knife while at the same time trying to keep his actions hidden from the others, failing completely might I add.
“Hey Ambrós!” I turned and saw Anrai of Merthan on his chariot, his strong arms holding the long reins. “Leave the fallen alone. We do not touch the dead.” He dropped the reins to the side and stepped off the chariot, the large shield across his back swinging lightly.
Ambrós shoved the knife into the earth and raising himself upright turned to face Anrai. His clothes were filled with blood and gore and a small wound on his left shoulder shone bright with dirt. He spit and pointed towards a horse rider behind Anrai.
“Lorcan has one for himself, why shouldn’t I have one?”
The man named Lorcan rode an enormous white and brown stallion and from the horse’s neck hung the head of an enemy, its long blonde hair almost touching the ground. The rider grinned and pulled the reins of the horse and it raised on it’s hind legs; perhaps he was showing off or just trying to get Ambrós on a fighting mood.
“Well, Lorcan removed the head when the enemy was still standing and breathing, it is his right to take it and display it.” Anrai moved his hands as he spoke, the pose and gestures those of a highborn or a learned man “You, on the other hand, didn’t do so and your actions disturb the honor of the dead. Leave it be Ambrós and join me, we go to Merthan for the feast” he approached Ambrós and laid a hand over his shoulder, his other arm inviting him to the chariot.
“And the spoils…” Ambrós said looking behind.
“Ah, leave them to the servants! I’m willing to give two milk cows if there isn’t a boar on the roast and some mead waiting for us!” Anrai replied smiling.
Anrai’s description seemed to convince Ambrós, which climbed to the chariot, his eyes still following Lorcan.
They left quickly and soon were approaching the hills of Merthan, a cloud of dust trailing behind.
I stood there, watching the ravens and the servants moving between them. Another man approached me, his complexion so pale he seemed transparent.
“ ’ullo Llyn”
I watched him. He seemed perplexed and at the same time completely at will. I waved my hand at him.
“Hello Ronson. Feeling well, are you?”
He seemed to give it some thought. Ronson was never a great thinker; to be absolutely truthful, he was one hulking piece of weaponry and that was his sole role in life along with the reason why his clan didn’t throw him off a cliff. Some used to jest and say his father was in fact a bull given that he had the strength and the mental capacity of one. They did that in very low tone though, as he seemed to be capable of crushing a man’s skull with one hand.
“Uhhh, I guess so. I’m feeling… uhhh, strange, you know…”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. Probably because we are dead”



I came to realize I was dead when I tried to get up. I raised myself from the ground but, to my surprise, couldn’t actually feel the ground with my hands. Upon further inspection I noticed that I couldn’t feel anything. That and the rather strange hollowness of my own body were enough to conclude that I had departed the world of the living. The strange thing was that I was still here, or there, or wherever I was, though I think I was still around “the living”. My first thought was that I was a haunt, but that didn’t made sense: I was killed in battle, (I remembered the killing blow, a short spear thru my chest followed by a chariot’s wheel across the neck) and I had left no resentment behind, no cause for my permanence here.
The truth is I was slightly disappointed. I was expecting a waking up sensation followed by green fields and a bright golden sun. Some lasses wouldn’t be bad neither, and a cup of mead. And it was raining. I was here, near my corpse, and it was starting to rain.
“Uhhh…” Ronson was standing by my side
“Yes?...”
“I found my body near the stream. They crushed my head with a hammer”
I didn’t answer. There seemed to be others across the field, their figures translucent. The women and the servants didn’t notice them and went about gathering the spoils.


I still had much to learn but I was learning quickly. It must have been two hundred of us, friends and foes, enemies and allies, all shadows of our living selves. We had all gathered on a nearby hill, watching as the afternoon passed and the plain became empty but there was no talk between any of the parts; both just stared at each other and at their own corpses lying on the field. A great fire erupted as the servants burned the corpses of our foes, their bodies piled in a heap and as the fire grew more and more shadows became opaque and bright and vanished until there were only my kinsman and two or three foes. Time went by and we saw the moon rise on the horizon and my kinsman also became fleeting shadows and left us. One of the enemies, a large man of slender build, approached me and pointed to the ground. I nodded with my head and he sat by my side. When he spoke I recognized the language but it was not my own.
“I am Vakainnen, son of Uku” he said, his eyes on the rising moon
“I’m Llyn of Merthan.” I said, my voice sounding strange
We watched as the last wisps of shadows lifted from the field, the haunts spread as a cloud pushed by the wind.
“I still don’t understand…” I began to say
“Ah, but it is the will of the Gods” he said in his language “And it is their will that some are bound to the Earth while others depart to Tuoni”
I looked at him. Not unlike us, he stood tall but slender, his golden hair flowing to his shoulders. He wore a beautiful silver mail and white breeches and his hair was braided with many goose feathers and beads. Even though he was, like myself, a transparent shadow, his eyes were of a fierce blue.
“Why did we fight?” I asked
“Ah, over the same things we have fought over the years, the same things our fathers fought over: land, cattle, spite. We need no reason to fight but fight itself, the Gods will it so.”
Ronson was climbing the hill effortlessly while watching Vakainnen.
“See, even in death we still cling to our old selves: we fear that which we not know and when we fear something we either cower or fight it” Vakainnen drew his sword, a magnificent work of craftsmanship and turning the blade towards himself presented me with the hilt “ Take it, Llyn of Merthan. Let us change the gifts we should have while we were alive”
I had my spear with me, I couldn’t say why but I hadn’t been able to part from it, so I accepted the sword and offered my spear. He accepted it bowing his head slightly and examined the shaft and the spear’s tip, appreciating the work.
Ronson had stood for some moments, watching us exchanging weapons, and decided to lay on the grassy slope, his arms behind his head.
“Do you know why we have not left?” I asked as I directed my eyes to Ronson and to Vakainnen’s companions who were also sitting nearby.
“Well, you bury your dead while we burn our own. Those that were burned on the plain have left for Tuoni and those of your folk who have vanished must have been taken and buried as it is their custom.
I grinned “Then that must mean nobody has taken my body and buried it.” I looked at the departing servants who hauled the spoils back to the villages “I would expect them to at least pay me that respect, the bastards”
“Ahaha!” Vakainnen laughed and his companions did so too while Ronson lifted his head from his arms, listening to our conversation “Don’t think so poorly of your kinsmen Llyn, they might have buried you but you are not ready to depart” he pointed to his companions “Those are my brethren, all kings of our tribe. Their bodies have been burnt as it is our way but until the bard sings a song of their names they must roam the Earth. When it is so done then they will leave to meet their ancestors.”
“You seem to know much of this business yourself, Vakainnen” I said, intrigued by his knowledge of our status.
“Well, I am no ordinary man” his face was unmoved, as if he had said this many times before “I am the son of a god, Uku, Lord of the Skies and the harvest.”
I didn’t say anything but my face must have betrayed me.
“You do not believe it?” he asked, a small smile on his face “Well, I know so and so do my kinsmen, that is enough for me”.
“And…and why haven’t you left for… Tuoni, isn’t it? Or as a matter of fact, why haven’t you survived the battle as one excepts the gods to be invulnerable” I asked
“Ah, you expect too much!” he said laughing


TO BE CONTINUED (or not)

What, after weeks of trying to work out what anagennese is it goes public!!! I demand this thread is closed immediately before everyone sees it!

Very good story by the way.

Originally Posted by God

Very good story by the way.

Not really, the others on that section are way much better than mine. I'm more used to writing in my native language hence some vocabulary and grammatical (not to mention phrase structure...) problems.

Also, I've never made any secret of Anagennese.... if anyone did then you can call him/them elitist pigs. :wink:

Originally Posted by Manji

Also, I've never made any secret of Anagennese.... if anyone did then you can call him/them elitist pigs. :wink:

I have Manji's permission to call therussian an elitist pig.

If therussian is offended by this, I would like to point out that Manji made me say it.

thats pretty cool Manji

me likes, cant wait for the next installment!