story part IV

Suddenly Bran was standing alone in a gray clearing, looking at a smooth rock. The cave had vanished. He went home wondering about his father. He tried to ask Gwen over dinner.
“Mother, I...I was wondering about my father. Please tell me about him.”
Gwen turned white. “He died,” she said thickly. “He’s dead. Leave the dead alone!”
“But-”
“No! I will not talk about him!”
Bran angrily got up from his chair and strode out the door. He walked aimlessly for a while, forgetting the cold in the heat of his anger. Sigurd had said that part of his quest was to find out about his father. Maybe his mother could not tell because of Sigurd. It would not be very hard to find out if his mother sat down and told him. No, he would have to find it from another source. He went back to the cottage and climbed in bed.
He and Rhys spent a lot of time together. They flew Kirsa, walked in the forest, sometimes Rhys would come to the moor and keep Bran company as he watched the sheep, or Bran would help Rhys on the farm. Their mothers got to know each other, and sometimes did laundry together. Rhys had two little sisters that he often had to watch. Bran had none and enjoyed watching their antics.
One time all four went out together to hunt for berries. Suddenly the oldest, Eira, came running toward them. Her normally pale complexion was ashen.
“Enid’s fallen in the river!” she gasped. “She can’t swim!”
The boys ran to the water, and scanned it for the girl.
“There!” cried Rhys, already jumping in. Bran ran down the river. He had a piece of cord in his pocket. Tying it around first a thick tree and then his waist, he too plunged in. He had had very little experience with swimming, and was thankful that the rope was strong. Rhys had spent some time in a nearby pond, and had already reached Enid. He struggled to get out of the currant. Bran stretched and grabbed his hand. Praying that the rope would hold, he pulled them in.
All were sopping and shivering and coughing, but for some reason elated. Bran wondered if Sigurd had had something to do with it. It was a miracle that little Enid had lasted so long in the roiling water that the rope had not snapped, that he had been able to reach Rhys. And indeed, he heard a rustling of a cloak and saw a flash of white hair.
Rhys gathered the frightened Enid into his arms and they walked back to the village. Rhys’ mother, Rhian, was working in the field as they approached. She was working vigorously with the hoe, and perspiration beaded her forehead. She looked up; saw the shivering children and Enid lying in Rhys’ arms. She gasped and ran forward.
“What happened? Enid, darling, are you all right?”
“She fell in the river,” said Bran as Rhian scooped up the girl. “I think she’s all right.”
And indeed, Enid looked fine. “Mother! I fell in the river! Rhys and Bran got me out all right, but I lost my bracelet Eira made.”
“Come inside,” said Rhian, “You must get dry else you’ll catch cold. Never mind the bracelet, Enid.”
“Thank you, mistress, but I should get home,” said Bran. “I’ll see you soon!”

Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibotson

Maia is an orphan living at a girls' school in London. She finds out that she has relatives in Manaus, Brazil. They offer to take her. Along with her governess, Miss Minton, she realizes that her family has only taken her for her money, and really doesn't care about her. She makes friends with an actor, a boy running away from his inheritance, and a few Indians. Her family disapproves, but even they cannot keep her from following her heart.

Really good. Ibbotson's books are hard to start, but once you do they are great. Like you find that Maia doesn't want to go to Brazil, and that her governess was fired from her former job for caning a boy. Great. Then you find out that her cousins are pigs and their parents are crazy. Now there's something of a plot. Then you're hooked.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy all have their own troubles in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Meg longs for nice dresses and jewlery. Tomboy Jo is quick to get angry. Gentle Beth longs for a nice piano to practice her music on, and Amy longs to be a rich and famous artist. They manage to overcome these and be come their father's little women.

I liked it. I was a little worried at first, because I had read Pride and Prejudice and that was rather difficult, but it was very easy to understand. Their problems weren't so different from ours, except of course Dad isn't in Iraq, and I'm glad. I liked that they called Laurence Laurie. That was fun.

Story part III

Sorry it's taken me so long.
One day she sent him into the forest to fetch wood for the fire. Winter was coming on, and the wood was bleak and uninviting. His breath steaming from his mouth, he trudged to a fallen tree and began to hack at it with his axe. As he was stacking up logs to carry home, he heard a wheezy sound nearby. An old man carrying a heavy bundle staggered into view.
“Please,” he gasped “Please help me, young man.”
Bran strode forward to receive the sack. The man gestured for him to follow, and began walking. As he trailed the stranger, a note of uncertainty knelled in his heart. How did he know this man was a friend? Some of the villagers did not trust him and Gwen.
He followed the man into the heart of the forest. They reached a large cave cut into the rock.
“Inside,” said the man. His voice was warm and kind, a flame on the cold day. Bran sat down as the man lit a fire. A peregrine falcon landed on the man’s shoulder, and he stroked it as he sat down opposite Bran.
“You are wondering who I am and why I brought you here,” said the man. “It certainly wasn’t for firewood. Some have called me Sigurd, and I will teach you how to survive your quest.”
“I’m not on a quest,” said Bran.
“Everyone has a quest. It is different for everyone, harder for some than others, but they have one. Yours is difficult...you have the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, boy.” They sat in silence for a while. Bran watched the falcon.
“What is its name?”
“He is Ingegerd. He brings thunder with him, and guides those who are lost back to the paths. Look, his wings are silver like lightning.”
“You said I have a quest. Can you tell me about it?”
Sigurd sighed. “Everyone asks that, and I must say no to each. Your father could not have been the man he was if I had told him his destiny.”
“You knew my father?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Please, tell me about him. My mother will not say anything except that he died in the war.”
Sigurd seemed shocked. “She will not tell you?” he murmured. “Maybe I should not either, then. Hmmm....”
“Sigurd-”
“No. I will not tell you. That is part of your quest. You must find out who your father was, and to find the true king. Now go. Gwen will be worried. Don’t come back until you receive my sign.”

Homesick: My Story by Jean Fritz

Jean has lived in China all her life, but she longs to be 'American'. Her life seems to be a hodge-podge (!)of different cultures. They pray for King George at school, speaking Chinese on the banks of the Yangse, speaking English at home. Several small problems occur, but they are fixed pretty quickly, until the biggest thing of all happens: war.

I liked it. I don't hear a lot about China, and found it interesting historically. But Jean Fritz is also a great writer. She is funny, and knows how to make things that were rather boring in other books good. I have not read a biography that I really liked for a long time (not that I tried very hard), but I liked this.