I just love Annie’s expression.
(Also: this is kind of what it’s like inside my head - a disturbing thought.)
(via lydiabutz)
Source: youtube.com
Pillars
There are pillars that hold up the skin of the earth.
Sparks from a great fire, swarming together,
columns of twining fireflies.
You see them through the cracks,
cracks covered with liquid glass,
but you don’t want to see them.
So they are not there.
But sometimes, when it is dark,
and the ground beneath you feels shallow and insubstantial,
sometimes you see them.
You see the bottomless piers of contained fireworks.
And you see the monuments you built to them,
the ones you built in mimicry even as you told yourself
there are no pillars that hold up the skin of the earth.
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If you can tell me what I’m talking about, I will give you a cookie :)
I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
The White Hall (part 4 - final part)
Eofor found Leofric first, running ahead of his battle-friends in his fervour.
With a terrible shout, the aetheling strode towards Halfdan’s son.
His wound-carver shone bright under the night’s silver-shield.
Its first blow bit into Leofric’s battle-moon, buckling the shield’s rim,
until it was worthless to the warrior’s cause.
Halfdan’s son hurled the shield aside, and hefted sword instead.
Valiantly he strived against Eofor’s steel, striking sparks in the night.
War-tools met and were turned aside with magnificent song,
as the combatants clashed and cut at each other.
Red battle-tears coursed boldly from Leofric’s body
as Eofor’s war-fang found flesh and took its dues.
But Eofor was not the only one to excite the blood-birds that night.
Leofric’s blade bit through battle-shirt and into the brave aetheling’s arm,
Chasing marrow-hall through mangled flesh.
But Leofric’s luck had been left inside the lesser of his father’s enemies,
with the slaughter-shaft he had stumbled upon by chance.
Eofor’s blood tainted bone took hold of Leofric’s battle-talon.
The steel stuck in the ivory strength, the two conspiring
against the proud warrior. Eofor plunged his blade into Leofric;
his sword strove to spear Leofric’s life-stone.
Pushing past protective bone-cage, it pierced its prey at last.
So Halfdan’s son fell, his heart hewn and wet with battle-wine,
and Eofor’s bone let go its grip on bold Leofric’s sword.
Now Eofor’s battle-friends finally found their lord.
Beholding Leofric’s death, dread filled them,
for a messenger had met them as they marched toward this place,
bringing with him unwelcome news from the white hall.
Men had done more than just mourning in the hall –
they had found the bane-brew, and a brutal scheme to accompany it.
The murderer uncovered had been unexpected,
taking vengeance for villainous deeds done long ago.
It had been the gilded queen who had gathered herself to the task,
Hild, who had been sister to Hereweald the hunter of battles,
slain long ago by Eadgar in days of enmity and strife.
Hild had married the lord of the white hall, her loyalty torn,
but had never reckoned a route to her revenge,
until Halfdan’s son had come into her hall, hailing from hearth unknown,
sure to be welcome scape-goat to Eofor’s suspicion.
When Eofor heard this news, he knelt beneath the night’s weight.
“I cannot make my mind know that this murder is the work of my father’s wife,
but it is such a terrible thing that its truth cannot be doubted.
How I regret now that I ridiculed my father’s openness!
It was not a stranger that snared his life-breath, but schemes of those closest!
And now I have destroyed the life of one who deserved other;
how can I now return to rule my father’s hall?”
the aetheling asked.
His friends comforted him as best they could,
but Eofor’s heart would not hear them. He spoke again:
“I cannot. I could not be a thought-tender king while my conscience speaks thus.
My grief weighs heavy with guilt, too great to burden my rule with.
No, I must leave my lands as Leofric did, lessening pain with distance.
Do not ask to come with me, brave battle-companions.
I have done a dishonourable deed, I cannot deny it.
But do not return to the mead-hall with regret – I will regain
the glory lost today, and we shall divide treasures when we next meet.”
So Eofor left on the exile he had entered willingly,
leaving behind the empty bone-hall that had been Halfdan’s son.
He wandered the world-roads while the god-watchers looked on,
even as Leofric had done, before his way had led him to Eadgar’s white hall.
The White Hall (part 3)
Hild, that shining queen, now sorrowful widow, cried out:
“Poison! A foul way to part life from lungs!
Who has done this, who would be so dishonourable
as to take noble Eadgar from me in such a way?”
Eofor leapt to his feet to accuse Leofric:
“Only one in this hall knows of such things,
and he comes the day of this terrible deed.
Why should we listen to Leofric’s claims of honour?
We have not seen that he is such.
He has tasted treachery before – perhaps
his words are like the death-wave in my father’s word-gate –
the honey of viper’s-spit. How did his enemies enter his hall,
if the way was not shown to them?
And was he not last to hold the hall-cup before my honoured father?”
His warrior friends rose in fearsome agreement,
And Leofric, luckless son of Halfdan, left the place.
Honour demanded that he hold his place, but sense told him to hie from the hall.
Out he ran, snatching up sword and shield as he passed.
The shouts of the war-band wounded his pride,
and the white hall shone on the hill behind.
Light rose on the lofty god-road, and still Leofric ran,
knowing not which path was pounded by his feet.
Chased by the chiming tools of carrion-craft,
His mind-worth often weighted his way.
The sky-candle was snuffed out once more,
and the dark of day-death disguised the arrival of Leofric’s doom-carrier.
