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Chapter IX: The Reckoning (Pt. II)
As it was told to me sometime later: the whole of Doriath stood still that day. No wind blew through the trees and nary a forest creature could be seen. Time seemed to stop within our borders. Even within the halls of Menegroth there was an unsettled anticipation. Silence filled every chamber and the only sound heard was our footsteps—like heartbeats they filled our ears with anxious desire for a return to normalcy. This day would never be forgotten in the annals of time. Yet in the moment, one could forget there was ever a time such as this to remember.
It was the day Lady Lúthien and her Beren would return to Menegroth. Even as the day began as always, an uneasy excitement whispered through its hallowed halls.
I was called upon by Elmo and Orowen to receive the returning couple with the rest of the family. I had met the request with some doubt—for I feared it was all in vain. Nonetheless, I acquiesced for the sake of Mîrwen.
At sunrise on that day, I rose to find Mîrwen standing across our chamber draped in her robe and staring upward.
“Mîrwen,” I began. “Is something the matter?”
“Would you think ill of me if I were to say I wished this day had never come,” she asked softly.
“You know I could never think ill of you,” I said as I got up and walked over to her. “May I asked why you fell this way?”
She turned toward me; her eyes felt like daggers through my heart.
“I know of your visions, Orothôn,” she said. “I know you have seen was is to come and it will be this day that casts its long shadow upon this world.”
“What are you saying,” I asked.
“You know well what I am saying,” she snapped.
“If I did, my love, I would know how to answer.”
“Why did you say nothing to me of what you have seen,” she demanded.
“I did not wish to upset you,” I said. “It would appear I had just cause.”
“I am not amused, Orothôn,” she said.
“Nor am I, Mîrwen. What has brought you to this, dare I ask?”
“I know far more than you think,” she said.
“Well, that would not surprise me as you spend your days with the ladies of the court,” I answered. “I can only begin to imagine what you talk about when your husbands are not around.”
“We do not discuss Súlwë,” she said.
Words escaped me.
“Where did you hear that name,” I asked.
“It does not matter from where I heard it,” she answered as her voice seemed darker. “What matters is he knows the reason why this day has come. Your visions are what lies in the future this day foreshadows.”
“Mîrwen, please,” I said softly. “No more.”
“For now,” she whispered as we heard a knock at the door. “Enter.”
Servants entered the room to dress us for the day.
“I will tell you as much as I can,” I whispered.
“No, Orothôn. You will tell me all that you know.”
She smiled and motioned to her dressers and disappeared behind her screen.
I made my way to my attendants and we were dressed in silence. When we were ready, Mîrwen and I entered the hall where we met Oropher and Nimeithel.
“Ada,” he said. “You clean up nicely. How long has it been since we have had the occasion to be so formal?”
“It has been too long,” I answered.
We began making our way to the main vestibule. I put aside the events of the morning the closer to the throne we came. Not since we first entered into Menegroth had it looked so festive. I allowed myself a moment of much needed peace.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 09-22-2020
Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
Where have I been? Getting ready for this. The return of Lúthien and Beren.
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Prologue
I. The Visit
The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now.
The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.
**** **** **** ****
She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.
“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.
“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”
“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.
“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.
“Neither did you.”
She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.
“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”
She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.
I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020
Let the saga begin.
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thesecretofthehouseofbourbonbook:
⚜️XIII⚜️: Chapter I/Part II (Book II)
As Alexandre became my servant, I became servant to my parents. It began simply enough—I was given a napkin to hand to my father at dinner. Soon enough, I was serving both my mother and my father regularly.
One particular morning, I ushered into my mother’s chambers and handed her chemise. I stood there for a moment wondering what to do.
“Kiss it,” I was told. “And hand it to Her Majesty.”
I looked at my mother. She glared at me impatiently waiting for me to fulfill my duty to her. I promptly did what I was commanded and her face softened, much to my relief. Not long thereafter, I was delivering her napkin at dinner as well.
I knew I was above all those that served the King and Queen—my parents. I was the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of France; how dare they? I knew I should not be subjected to such menial responsibilities. I felt there were no lessons to be learned in serving the self-serving so began to object to my parents’ life lessons.
It was winter when I first stood up against my lot in life. I had begun to grow weary of subservience. I realized that my father held little regard to my knowledge of my status in life. I knew he thought I was too young to know I was the son of the king and I felt it my duty to remind him.
It was one evening in December when I was once again called to my duties as servant to the table of my father. I adamantly refused. I was promptly shown to my father’s table.
“What is this,” he asked me. “Why are you not about your duties to your father?”
“No,” I said, my arms folded across my chest. “I do not want to.”
“But I am the master,” he answered. “And you, you are my valet.”
“I am not your valet,” I said. “I am your son.”
“Would a son refuse to serve his father,” he asked. “And are you not the son of the king, Louis?”
I looked around to see everyone watching. My mother’s expression was one of disapproval—and in my youth, I could not tell with whom she was more disappointed. Finally, I gave up my futile mission. In surrender, I unfolded my arms and sighed.
“Now,” my father began. “Who are you?”
“I am Papa’s little valet,” I said softly.
My father smiled triumphantly as I handed him his napkin. Defeated, I turned slowly walked away. It would not be the last time I would give in to the power of my father but in my defeat, I would grow stronger.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIII by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 05-10-2021
Life in the quart of Henri IV is not always what it appears.
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My Hairiest Adventure was a mess of ideas that never really added up to a coherent story. I did appreciate the humor in it. The band practice scenes were funny and very believable. Dr. Murkin’s name might be the dirtiest joke ever slipped into a Goosebumps book, especially given the hair-centric plot of the book. The characters were fine, there were just too many. It’s hard to articulate without going into major spoilers, but there were so many missed opportunities to tie the various elements of the plot together. A few relatively simple changes could have made a huge difference. The kids finding an expired bottle of INSTA-TAN and excitedly putting it on was an odd choice for many reasons, but it really didn’t work as a catalyst for the eventual twist. This could have been a really fun book in the vein of One Day at Horrorland, but it ended up reading like an afterthought.
Score: 2
A full review with memes, spoilers, and snark can be found over on my wordpress blog:
https://www.danstalter.com/my-hairiest-adventure/
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firstprince quoting old works and literature in their freaking emails will never get old
Chapter IX: The Reckoning (Pt. II)
As it was told to me sometime later: the whole of Doriath stood still that day. No wind blew through the trees and nary a forest creature could be seen. Time seemed to stop within our borders. Even within the halls of Menegroth there was an unsettled anticipation. Silence filled every chamber and the only sound heard was our footsteps—like heartbeats they filled our ears with anxious desire for a return to normalcy. This day would never be forgotten in the annals of time. Yet in the moment, one could forget there was ever a time such as this to remember.
It was the day Lady Lúthien and her Beren would return to Menegroth. Even as the day began as always, an uneasy excitement whispered through its hallowed halls.
I was called upon by Elmo and Orowen to receive the returning couple with the rest of the family. I had met the request with some doubt—for I feared it was all in vain. Nonetheless, I acquiesced for the sake of Mîrwen.
At sunrise on that day, I rose to find Mîrwen standing across our chamber draped in her robe and staring upward.
“Mîrwen,” I began. “Is something the matter?”
“Would you think ill of me if I were to say I wished this day had never come,” she asked softly.
“You know I could never think ill of you,” I said as I got up and walked over to her. “May I asked why you fell this way?”
She turned toward me; her eyes felt like daggers through my heart.
“I know of your visions, Orothôn,” she said. “I know you have seen was is to come and it will be this day that casts its long shadow upon this world.”
“What are you saying,” I asked.
“You know well what I am saying,” she snapped.
“If I did, my love, I would know how to answer.”
“Why did you say nothing to me of what you have seen,” she demanded.
“I did not wish to upset you,” I said. “It would appear I had just cause.”
“I am not amused, Orothôn,” she said.
“Nor am I, Mîrwen. What has brought you to this, dare I ask?”
“I know far more than you think,” she said.
“Well, that would not surprise me as you spend your days with the ladies of the court,” I answered. “I can only begin to imagine what you talk about when your husbands are not around.”
“We do not discuss Súlwë,” she said.
Words escaped me.
“Where did you hear that name,” I asked.
“It does not matter from where I heard it,” she answered as her voice seemed darker. “What matters is he knows the reason why this day has come. Your visions are what lies in the future this day foreshadows.”
“Mîrwen, please,” I said softly. “No more.”
“For now,” she whispered as we heard a knock at the door. “Enter.”
Servants entered the room to dress us for the day.
“I will tell you as much as I can,” I whispered.
“No, Orothôn. You will tell me all that you know.”
She smiled and motioned to her dressers and disappeared behind her screen.
I made my way to my attendants and we were dressed in silence. When we were ready, Mîrwen and I entered the hall where we met Oropher and Nimeithel.
“Ada,” he said. “You clean up nicely. How long has it been since we have had the occasion to be so formal?”
“It has been too long,” I answered.
We began making our way to the main vestibule. I put aside the events of the morning the closer to the throne we came. Not since we first entered into Menegroth had it looked so festive. I allowed myself a moment of much needed peace.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 09-22-2020
Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
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