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The King of Nowhere Chapter 3 Chapter 3
They sat at a low table, cushions and all, drinking tea, talking and having fun. Doe couldn't remember what particular things they were talking about. Master had just made a witty quip that had left the Good Lord and Good Lady in stitches. Doe laughed too.
It was quite good tea, she liked it.
"Do you like it?" Master asked, her grey eyes.
"Yes, I like it very much," she answered.
"It is ambrosia from the land of the dead," the Good Lady said grimly. Then she laughed.
"We get so tired of it sometimes," the Good Lord said.
"Speak for yourself," Master said, and took a gulp.
"You are not anchored, like us," the Good Lord said. "I envy you."
"We'll see," she winked, "I'm thinking of keeping my friend company."
Doe remembered the gold eyes.
"Dear, dear," the Good Lady patted the table, "my dear little disciple-of-disciple-of-disciple to the so-
The King of Nowhere 1-2Chapter 1
Doe was humming to herself, a habit that she had tried to learn to avoid, as she wound the woolen hairs into the mass of the grubby string.
The late afternoon was starting to slowly colour the mountains with shadow, though the sun was far from reddening the sky. The air was moist and a bit cold, mirroring the wet earth that was being uncovered from its cloak of white. Rivulets of water ran here and there, randomly spurred downward by the unpredictable topography of the valley, and ended up in pools of brown water or, more likely, as a trampled mush of mud patterned with hard four-toed foot-prints.
There was a single hair for each snow-fawn in the flock, a small enough number not to give the string any more girth than it had before she unwound it. The last hair in place, she tied a small metallic weight to one end, and showed it to the herder.
"Doesn't look like much, does it?" she asked.
The herder didn't bite. "Does it g
The First Rune of the KalevalaThis wish is what my mind now wills
for me to go and sing,
to spread my words oer wood and hills
this song of ours to ring,
Let hymns of kindred men then fly,
and thawd escape my lip,
they ride my tongue and on it lie
till teeth them broken chip.
My brother dear, my fairest friend,
do come with me today
and let us both these words attend
together all them say,
so seldom gather we so near
upon this lonely plain
as now entwind our paths are here
so let's not go in twain.
So join my hands, your fingers weave,
to sing the good and best,
to hear those golden words this eve
from youthling tongues be wrest,
the same old song that given was
from mouths of ancient gods
the hymns that opened up their jaws
of all those ancient lords:
up from the belt of that great sage,
of Väinämöinen old,
under the forge of the smith-mage
of Ilmarinen bold,
and from the tip of his good sword
of Lemminkäinen fast,
the path was made by his bow cord,
of Joukahainen last,
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