Hi there! This is my first post here.
So let me say two things first:
a) I really admire the great job you are doing here, all the interesting posts and also the immense amount of work for creating those wonderful podcasts.
b) Please accept my apologies for my English. It is not my native language. I will to try to post here very carefully to avoid misunderstandings or even being rude to someone without realizing what I did.
As a tribute to this forum I would like to offer a small piece of a fanfic-story I am working on, and although it may be of minor quality, a lot of time and emotion went into the multiple chapters I have already written, thus I hope that you will accept this at least as a try to contribute to your wonderful forum.
So here it goes:
A Sword for Griffith
Chapter 1: The Cub
Charlotte woke up late in the morning. From the sounds that surrounded her, she realized that everybody else was already busy and she felt a little bit guilty. Yet she had been quite tired and had needed the sleep dearly. Griffith was still the same feral lover as he had been, when he had taken her maidenhood. Nevertheless he had put an immense gentleness into his bold approaches, when he had realized a couple of years ago, that Charlotte had become quite frail from having given birth to three children within the 14 years of their marriage. She loved him for that sign of respect and care more than she could ever tell him.
Suddenly the door was flung open. Griffith entered, clad in his famous Millennium Falcon armour. She smiled joyfully, when she saw him. Despite the fierce love she felt for him, it was always a pleasure to watch this beautiful person. Where she had aged within the past 14 years, Griffith had not changed at all, still looking like the hardly 20 years-old youth who had rescued her from the Kushan emperor. Yet, his eternal youth and angelic beauty was just one of the numerous miracles he had worked before her eyes.
She was pulled out of her thoughts, when she heard the bright jingle of his long spurs. That reminded her painfully of the fact, that he was about to set out today for another war. Griffith had hardly spent a couple of months per year with her in the past 14 years, spending the largest part of them on military campaigns. Yet, he had almost every night reappeared in her sleeping-room right out of the shadows, wherever and how far away ever his campaigns had led him, and having vanished again, when she woke up in the morning. Just one more of the miracles, he was able to work ...
This month he had spent entirely with her and the children, although he had been very busy preparing the campaign. But today he was about to leave again and she realized that it was now time to say farewell. He squatted on the bed besides her and carassed her face with his steel-clad hand so gently and carefully, that the gauntlet might well have been made of silk.
Charlotte clasped his hand. „So it is necessary? Will you be careful? This time especially careful?“ she asked Griffith, knowing the answer quite well. Griffith gently kissed her on her lips and she took it as a promise.
Yes, this time it was a very special occasion.
The reason for her questions entered right at this moment the sleeping-room.
Emrys was their oldest son. He was 13 and quite tall for his age, yet not overly so. He looked like a younger version of Griffith: the same angelic beauty, the same silver-white mane falling down almost to his belt, the same features, and moving as gracefully as his father. He was clad in a short woolen tunic, tight riding-breeches and thigh-length riding-boots. He wore spurs on his boots too. He was to accompany his father on this campaign and to fight in his first battle.
Although Charlotte knew, that Griffith had at this age already been leader of a small mercenary band, she nevertheless was terribly afraid for the cub, as Griffith used to call his eldest son. Emrys nevertheless had inherited the martial spirit of his father, like their other children had too, and was already expecting his first battle with great joy.
Those two children entered the room now also, as usual staying close to Emrys. Tam and Tara, the 10 years-old twins also looked like younger versions of Griffith, the girl just like a female variation of his features. Although Charlotte loved the three children with all the power of her heart, she sometimes regretted, that she was not able to find the faintest trace of some of her features at the children. She would never ever have gotten the idea or would have believed it if someone had told her the fact, that Griffith had had his hands in it, when he had planted their seeds into her womb ...
Emrys sat down at the side of his father after having given his mother a loving hug and the twins entered the bed, snuggling with loving care at the side of her mother. They all knew, that they had to be careful, since her mother was pregnant again, now being somewhere around her early seventh month of pregnancy. Charlotte dearly hoped, that this time the child would bear at least some faint traces of her features. Griffith knew about that, and this time he had chosen to arrange it this way. He could have done like on the previous occasions as well, yet he had made a different choice concerning this child, and had so far refused to think about the reasons, why he had done so this time.
The noise of the army which was to depart for the campaign was now getting louder and louder, everybody eager to set out for another victory under their famous leader, and Charlotte realised that Griffith and Emrys had now to leave her. One final hug, one final gentle kiss from each of them and then they left Charlotte and the twins.
Having been brought up as a princess of an ancient dynasty, she knew, that this was necessary. Griffith I., King of Midland, also called Griffith the Conqueror, had to take his oldest son at this age to his first battle, where the youth had to prove being worth and worthy enough as Prince of Midland and heir to the throne of the House of Falconia.
(to be continued)
So let me say two things first:
a) I really admire the great job you are doing here, all the interesting posts and also the immense amount of work for creating those wonderful podcasts.
b) Please accept my apologies for my English. It is not my native language. I will to try to post here very carefully to avoid misunderstandings or even being rude to someone without realizing what I did.
As a tribute to this forum I would like to offer a small piece of a fanfic-story I am working on, and although it may be of minor quality, a lot of time and emotion went into the multiple chapters I have already written, thus I hope that you will accept this at least as a try to contribute to your wonderful forum.
So here it goes:
A Sword for Griffith
Chapter 1: The Cub
Charlotte woke up late in the morning. From the sounds that surrounded her, she realized that everybody else was already busy and she felt a little bit guilty. Yet she had been quite tired and had needed the sleep dearly. Griffith was still the same feral lover as he had been, when he had taken her maidenhood. Nevertheless he had put an immense gentleness into his bold approaches, when he had realized a couple of years ago, that Charlotte had become quite frail from having given birth to three children within the 14 years of their marriage. She loved him for that sign of respect and care more than she could ever tell him.
Suddenly the door was flung open. Griffith entered, clad in his famous Millennium Falcon armour. She smiled joyfully, when she saw him. Despite the fierce love she felt for him, it was always a pleasure to watch this beautiful person. Where she had aged within the past 14 years, Griffith had not changed at all, still looking like the hardly 20 years-old youth who had rescued her from the Kushan emperor. Yet, his eternal youth and angelic beauty was just one of the numerous miracles he had worked before her eyes.
She was pulled out of her thoughts, when she heard the bright jingle of his long spurs. That reminded her painfully of the fact, that he was about to set out today for another war. Griffith had hardly spent a couple of months per year with her in the past 14 years, spending the largest part of them on military campaigns. Yet, he had almost every night reappeared in her sleeping-room right out of the shadows, wherever and how far away ever his campaigns had led him, and having vanished again, when she woke up in the morning. Just one more of the miracles, he was able to work ...
This month he had spent entirely with her and the children, although he had been very busy preparing the campaign. But today he was about to leave again and she realized that it was now time to say farewell. He squatted on the bed besides her and carassed her face with his steel-clad hand so gently and carefully, that the gauntlet might well have been made of silk.
Charlotte clasped his hand. „So it is necessary? Will you be careful? This time especially careful?“ she asked Griffith, knowing the answer quite well. Griffith gently kissed her on her lips and she took it as a promise.
Yes, this time it was a very special occasion.
The reason for her questions entered right at this moment the sleeping-room.
Emrys was their oldest son. He was 13 and quite tall for his age, yet not overly so. He looked like a younger version of Griffith: the same angelic beauty, the same silver-white mane falling down almost to his belt, the same features, and moving as gracefully as his father. He was clad in a short woolen tunic, tight riding-breeches and thigh-length riding-boots. He wore spurs on his boots too. He was to accompany his father on this campaign and to fight in his first battle.
Although Charlotte knew, that Griffith had at this age already been leader of a small mercenary band, she nevertheless was terribly afraid for the cub, as Griffith used to call his eldest son. Emrys nevertheless had inherited the martial spirit of his father, like their other children had too, and was already expecting his first battle with great joy.
Those two children entered the room now also, as usual staying close to Emrys. Tam and Tara, the 10 years-old twins also looked like younger versions of Griffith, the girl just like a female variation of his features. Although Charlotte loved the three children with all the power of her heart, she sometimes regretted, that she was not able to find the faintest trace of some of her features at the children. She would never ever have gotten the idea or would have believed it if someone had told her the fact, that Griffith had had his hands in it, when he had planted their seeds into her womb ...
Emrys sat down at the side of his father after having given his mother a loving hug and the twins entered the bed, snuggling with loving care at the side of her mother. They all knew, that they had to be careful, since her mother was pregnant again, now being somewhere around her early seventh month of pregnancy. Charlotte dearly hoped, that this time the child would bear at least some faint traces of her features. Griffith knew about that, and this time he had chosen to arrange it this way. He could have done like on the previous occasions as well, yet he had made a different choice concerning this child, and had so far refused to think about the reasons, why he had done so this time.
The noise of the army which was to depart for the campaign was now getting louder and louder, everybody eager to set out for another victory under their famous leader, and Charlotte realised that Griffith and Emrys had now to leave her. One final hug, one final gentle kiss from each of them and then they left Charlotte and the twins.
Having been brought up as a princess of an ancient dynasty, she knew, that this was necessary. Griffith I., King of Midland, also called Griffith the Conqueror, had to take his oldest son at this age to his first battle, where the youth had to prove being worth and worthy enough as Prince of Midland and heir to the throne of the House of Falconia.
(to be continued)