Rois Melior has always wandered freely through the wood by her house. One day she meets Corbet Lynn. Soon rumors begin to fly about him. His father murdered his grandfather, and his grandfather's last words were supposedly a curse. Rois is curious, and begins looking for clues. She findes herself caught in a whirlwind of curses, the past, and the cruel winter.
Good. It's scary in a nice, shivery way. It's a little confusing because there's a lot of stuff going on, but you'll figure it out.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
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!”
“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.
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.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
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.”
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.
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.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A RIng of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle
Vicky Austin is spending the summer at her grandfather's, watching him die of leukemia. THen comes Adam, a scientist with a special project on dolphins. He invites her to help, and they discover that she has a special thing with dopphins. This is confusing enough, but there is also Zachary and Leo. Amidst confusion and tragedy comes joy and light.
Very good. I don't understand why Leo is there, though. HE doesn't add much to the story. Also, Rob is seven and Suzy thirteen, but they act and talk like twelve and sixteen-year-olds. I enjoyed Adam and Basil.
Very good. I don't understand why Leo is there, though. HE doesn't add much to the story. Also, Rob is seven and Suzy thirteen, but they act and talk like twelve and sixteen-year-olds. I enjoyed Adam and Basil.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
story part II
I don't know why it's double-spaced. I hope it's good. Need title ideas. ~Ruthie
“Bran! hi, Bran!”
Bran turned.
Rhys Andrasson ran up to him. “Are you entering the contest tomorrow?”
“What contest?”
“The falconing contest. The first falcon to get the lure and come back wins, and its master gets a gold coin! Are you entering?”
Bran turned red. He had no falcon. They were too poor to buy a bird, and he had no father to teach him how to train one.
“No,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go home.”
Rhys frowned. “tell you what,” he said “I’ll let you fly Kirsa, and if you’re better at it than I am you can fly him in the contest. We’ll split the coin. Good?”
“Yes!”
They walked to one of the many fields surrounding the village. Rhys ran into his house and gently brought out Kirsa. He held her on his fist and then raised it to the sky. With a surging of wings she was off, and the boys watched her gleeful circles.
“Okay,” said Rhys, “Now hold up the lure, and whistle.”
Bran whistled, and waited a moment, heart in his throat, watching the circling bird. He whistled again, and Kirsa plummeted from the heavens onto his fist. Rhys clapped.
“I’ve never gotten her to come that fast! Will you do it?”
“Of course! Besides, gold would be enough to feed us for a month! Let’s go again.”
They watched with pleasure as the falcon swooped and dived. Finally and with great reluctance, Bran returned home. He was happy, and a hole in his heart was filled at last.
Gwen was pleased that her son had a friend, and enjoyed asking him about his times with Rhys.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
my new story for NaNoWriMo
Long, long ago, there was a war between two great men. Arthur and Mordred fought for ten years until both were killed in the last battle. Mordred was thrown into a traitor’s grave, while Arthur was buried in Avalon. The country erupted into civil war, every nobleman wanting more power.
Guinevere, the disgraced queen, had been sent out of the country. She went to a town by the sea, changing her name and settling into a peasant’s life, and no one was the wiser.
The poor of
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Enna Burning by Shannon Hale
Enna's brother, Leifer, has been burned to death by his own powers. She is horrified when she discovers that she has fire power too. But she cannot stop using it. They are at war, and the need to burn something is always pushing at her mind. Soon the fear of the fire-witch is in every Tiran camp. So they set a trap for her, and it worked. They put her on a drug that makes her unable to use her powers. The captain, Sileph, tricks her into thinking Bayern is wrong and Tira right. Soon she begins to burn for Tira. But seh figures it out and escapes. THe problem now is that the fire is eating her up from the inside. If they don't find a cure soon, she will die just like Leifer.
Good. It was an easy read. I wanted it to be longer, but really there was too much of Enna in the Tiran camp. I don't want to read 150 pages about believing Sileph. THey should have cut some of that out and turned it into battles or getting married to Finn.
We are reading Beowulf in Literature. It is good but sometimes confusing.
I started a book for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) It's a continuation of King Arthur.
Good. It was an easy read. I wanted it to be longer, but really there was too much of Enna in the Tiran camp. I don't want to read 150 pages about believing Sileph. THey should have cut some of that out and turned it into battles or getting married to Finn.
We are reading Beowulf in Literature. It is good but sometimes confusing.
I started a book for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) It's a continuation of King Arthur.
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