This is a link to a website I found when I was googling the vikings. It has some interesting info on the Celtic language as well as the vikings and their mythology. Enjoy!
http://www.missgien.net/celtic/languages.html
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Renaissance Faire
To the Great Lord Hoffman,
My apologies for the delay in post, good sir! After finally returning from my wary travels, parchment and quill seem like a delicate luxury, as does a good cleansing of my travel garb. I fear I may have acquired a flea infestation from some village peasants! The later brings to mind a festival I happened upon, for the smell of grimy townsfolk and fresh cattle dung burned in my nostrils for days.
It was a bright and cheery atmosphere despite the stench, which was intensified by the damp and muggy air. Children sloshed through rain puddles, mud mucking their boots as they squealed and darted through the ever-crowded streets. Music and laughter surrounded the many street performers, an exocentric mime entertaining the crowds in his silly black and white attire. Peddlers enticed me with their wares, fine jewels and trinkets beckoning me to enter each marquee.
However, it was the knowing smile and confidently cocked brow of an older wench that caught my attention. She stood in the shadows of her tent, wiry ginger locks nearly hidden from view by a peculiarly shaped hat. Her crooked grin widened at my curious stare, a silent command to enter. My feet seemed to move on their own accord, closer to the mysterious woman than I ever would have dared. As I entered her canopy of commodities, the hairs on my neck stood raised and my heart seemed to hammer at my rib cage with impressive force.
“Welcome.” She said with a strong Irish dialect, her voice raspy and low. “Me name is Grace O’Malley, but I’m known around these parts as ‘The Irish Problem.’” She laughed heartily at her own remark. “Take a look around, won’t ye?” I smiled weakly at her round, freckled face before taking a quick glance at her wares. Silver pendants and jewels rested on the soft, navy-blue velvet that lined her walls, though nothing really piqued my interest. I inched slowly toward the exist, for I could feel her eyes on me. I was almost there when, to my dismay, she spoke.
“Nothing fits yer fancy, young lass?” she asked, forcing me to turn and face her.
“No ma’am, afraid not.” I said, already backing out of the stuffy tent. However, I stopped myself, taking in her strange appearance. Many tarnished rings adorned her stubby fingers, and gold necklaces dangled around her neck. What I had thought to be an ordinary maiden’s dress seemingly transformed into something spectacular. Sheer, midnight-blue silk made up the sleeves, with silver moons and stars stitched into it. A thick, brown-leather corset covered the bodice and her long black skirt was made of the finest fabric.
“Pardon me, lass, but yer gawking.” Grace O’Malley said, throwing her head back with another loud, bellowing cackle.
“Oh, s-sorry!” I answered hastily, snapping out of my trance. “But where did you acquire such magnificent cloth?” I wondered aloud, awe present in my wide-eyed gaze.
“Ye’d be surprised what kinds of ships wash into me ports and get an… unexpected visit from yers truly.” A wicked grin stretched her features.
At my confusion, ole Grace O’Malley began to tell me of her days as a marauder at sea. She was clever and quick-witted, and convinced many to follow her reign by threatening and frightening them. To scare nearby ships, she would bath in animal blood, tie woman’s clothing to her mast and shamelessly whip it. The men at a distance would only see a crazy women and blood splattering everywhere, scaring them to surrender. My uncertainty soon turned to respect and admiration for Miss O’Malley was a fascinating character. I am certain you would enjoy her company, Sir Hoffman, and if perhaps you should ever happen upon a mysterious stranger, give them a listen. There may be more that meets the eye.
Yours Truly, Andrea Drag
My apologies for the delay in post, good sir! After finally returning from my wary travels, parchment and quill seem like a delicate luxury, as does a good cleansing of my travel garb. I fear I may have acquired a flea infestation from some village peasants! The later brings to mind a festival I happened upon, for the smell of grimy townsfolk and fresh cattle dung burned in my nostrils for days.
It was a bright and cheery atmosphere despite the stench, which was intensified by the damp and muggy air. Children sloshed through rain puddles, mud mucking their boots as they squealed and darted through the ever-crowded streets. Music and laughter surrounded the many street performers, an exocentric mime entertaining the crowds in his silly black and white attire. Peddlers enticed me with their wares, fine jewels and trinkets beckoning me to enter each marquee.
However, it was the knowing smile and confidently cocked brow of an older wench that caught my attention. She stood in the shadows of her tent, wiry ginger locks nearly hidden from view by a peculiarly shaped hat. Her crooked grin widened at my curious stare, a silent command to enter. My feet seemed to move on their own accord, closer to the mysterious woman than I ever would have dared. As I entered her canopy of commodities, the hairs on my neck stood raised and my heart seemed to hammer at my rib cage with impressive force.
“Welcome.” She said with a strong Irish dialect, her voice raspy and low. “Me name is Grace O’Malley, but I’m known around these parts as ‘The Irish Problem.’” She laughed heartily at her own remark. “Take a look around, won’t ye?” I smiled weakly at her round, freckled face before taking a quick glance at her wares. Silver pendants and jewels rested on the soft, navy-blue velvet that lined her walls, though nothing really piqued my interest. I inched slowly toward the exist, for I could feel her eyes on me. I was almost there when, to my dismay, she spoke.
“Nothing fits yer fancy, young lass?” she asked, forcing me to turn and face her.
“No ma’am, afraid not.” I said, already backing out of the stuffy tent. However, I stopped myself, taking in her strange appearance. Many tarnished rings adorned her stubby fingers, and gold necklaces dangled around her neck. What I had thought to be an ordinary maiden’s dress seemingly transformed into something spectacular. Sheer, midnight-blue silk made up the sleeves, with silver moons and stars stitched into it. A thick, brown-leather corset covered the bodice and her long black skirt was made of the finest fabric.
“Pardon me, lass, but yer gawking.” Grace O’Malley said, throwing her head back with another loud, bellowing cackle.
“Oh, s-sorry!” I answered hastily, snapping out of my trance. “But where did you acquire such magnificent cloth?” I wondered aloud, awe present in my wide-eyed gaze.
“Ye’d be surprised what kinds of ships wash into me ports and get an… unexpected visit from yers truly.” A wicked grin stretched her features.
At my confusion, ole Grace O’Malley began to tell me of her days as a marauder at sea. She was clever and quick-witted, and convinced many to follow her reign by threatening and frightening them. To scare nearby ships, she would bath in animal blood, tie woman’s clothing to her mast and shamelessly whip it. The men at a distance would only see a crazy women and blood splattering everywhere, scaring them to surrender. My uncertainty soon turned to respect and admiration for Miss O’Malley was a fascinating character. I am certain you would enjoy her company, Sir Hoffman, and if perhaps you should ever happen upon a mysterious stranger, give them a listen. There may be more that meets the eye.
Yours Truly, Andrea Drag
A response to the Renaissance Faire
My dear Sir Hoffman,
As I was out today I found myself in a place quite unintended. I do tend to have a rather dreadful sense of direction so it is not a surprise that I found myself lost. Perhaps next time you should accompany me so that I do not find myself in some strange town, miles away from where I intended to go. Anyway, I found myself at what appeared to be a village faire. When I walked in I was a given a bright purple bracelet and was told to keep it visible at all times. If I failed to do so then “security” would drag me to the front of the faire and force me to find a “chaperone.” I suppose that a chaperone was some sort of jailer who would watch over me in a dungeon. As I wandered through the faire, unsure what I was looking for, I ran into some most particular characters. There was a horribly filthy commoner with a hunchback who stood very close to me. I am quite sure the fellow gave me fleas because I can barely stop scratching. As I continued traveling about the grounds looking at the various vendors I happened to spy another band of odd-looking fellows. They were dressed all in black cloaks and were accompanying a sinister-looking woman, also dressed in black. One of the black-cloaked creatures happened to brush against me. He hissed, and the lady they were with laughed, warning me that I would probably get a rash. She appears to be right: as well as being covered with flea bites I also have a strange rash on my arm that refuses to go away. Moving past them, I walked by many vendors selling all sorts of interesting trinkets. One particular vendor caught my eye though. It was a woman with ruddy skin and a twinkle in her eye. I stopped in to see her wares, many necklaces and fanciful rings. She seemed to take a fancy to me and informed me that her name was Grace O’Malley and that she might be an Irish privateer. Grace told me about some of her adventures at sea: how she would rob ships and frighten men into surrendering without even having to board their ship. She would cover herself in animal blood, take off her shirt, tie some woman’s clothing to the mast, and whip it. All that the men on the far off ships would see was blood flying and a naked woman. This would frighten them into surrendering before even seeing who captained the ship. I laughed heartily at her cleverness. After finishing her tale, she offered me a chance to join her and become part of her crew. I accepted her offer. Please do not share this information though, I don’t think that others would approve. Perhaps you too can join us. If not, than you can always come back to the faire with me!
Truly,
Lady Catherine McCulloch
As I was out today I found myself in a place quite unintended. I do tend to have a rather dreadful sense of direction so it is not a surprise that I found myself lost. Perhaps next time you should accompany me so that I do not find myself in some strange town, miles away from where I intended to go. Anyway, I found myself at what appeared to be a village faire. When I walked in I was a given a bright purple bracelet and was told to keep it visible at all times. If I failed to do so then “security” would drag me to the front of the faire and force me to find a “chaperone.” I suppose that a chaperone was some sort of jailer who would watch over me in a dungeon. As I wandered through the faire, unsure what I was looking for, I ran into some most particular characters. There was a horribly filthy commoner with a hunchback who stood very close to me. I am quite sure the fellow gave me fleas because I can barely stop scratching. As I continued traveling about the grounds looking at the various vendors I happened to spy another band of odd-looking fellows. They were dressed all in black cloaks and were accompanying a sinister-looking woman, also dressed in black. One of the black-cloaked creatures happened to brush against me. He hissed, and the lady they were with laughed, warning me that I would probably get a rash. She appears to be right: as well as being covered with flea bites I also have a strange rash on my arm that refuses to go away. Moving past them, I walked by many vendors selling all sorts of interesting trinkets. One particular vendor caught my eye though. It was a woman with ruddy skin and a twinkle in her eye. I stopped in to see her wares, many necklaces and fanciful rings. She seemed to take a fancy to me and informed me that her name was Grace O’Malley and that she might be an Irish privateer. Grace told me about some of her adventures at sea: how she would rob ships and frighten men into surrendering without even having to board their ship. She would cover herself in animal blood, take off her shirt, tie some woman’s clothing to the mast, and whip it. All that the men on the far off ships would see was blood flying and a naked woman. This would frighten them into surrendering before even seeing who captained the ship. I laughed heartily at her cleverness. After finishing her tale, she offered me a chance to join her and become part of her crew. I accepted her offer. Please do not share this information though, I don’t think that others would approve. Perhaps you too can join us. If not, than you can always come back to the faire with me!
Truly,
Lady Catherine McCulloch
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Renaissance Faire Letter Reflection
Dear Sir Hoffman,
As I left your dwelling, I took an unaccustomed path on my way home and I wandered upon the most interesting thing. Before I could even see what was going on, an aroma made up of roasting turkey legs and other treats filled my nose and led me to my destination. As I sloshed through the mud and entered the faire, the guards yelled at me warningly. The enchanted purple bracelet they had given me was to worn at all times; otherwise, the guards would arrest me and take me to the front gate, where I would wait for my “chaperone”. Do you have any insight on what this thing they spoke of was? From their tone, I would imagine it was one of the foulest creatures to roam this land. Without looking at a map, I was able to locate the source of the scent that had persuaded me to enter. I handed over my money to the grubby hands of the wench as she tossed me a roasted, partially burnt, turkey leg. My first bite into the salty meat consisted of charcoal and burnt skin. The faire was filled with chatter between companions and all the stands. Shrill screams from thieves caught by the guards would occasionally break over the low rumble of small talk and bartering. Many of the vendors were as stubborn as my wife, something I didn’t think was possible! As I walked through the fair I met many interesting characters and performers. In the center of the faire was an extremely talented mime, judging from the clinking of coins in his chest. I then happened upon the most despicable human, although creature would be a better description. His hunchback was covered in rotting rodent tails. The stench coming from this beast made my eyes water and my stomach flip. When I encountered him, he gladly dashed over with no respect for personal space. I could feel the moisture of his breath upon my chest, as the hairs on my neck stood up. After I escaped from the strange presence of that creature I headed over to the dungeon’s stage. Here they clamored and grabbed thieves onto the grimy old arena and punished them for their deeds. The crowd erupted in laughter from the presentation of the clumsy prosecutor and his dim-witted assistant. After that show, I headed to leave, but found myself attracted to the sword fighting ring. Men would pay to challenge the black knight into a sword fight, with the victor obtaining deafening recognition from the crowd. The clash of swords and flesh reverberated all around, and one was very tempted to see the battle; if only for a mere moment of excitement. As I left the faire, my chest ached and my throat tightened, and I realized what a fun time I had there. I will certainly be returning! Would you like to accompany me next time? Your friend, Eric Eliasson
As I left your dwelling, I took an unaccustomed path on my way home and I wandered upon the most interesting thing. Before I could even see what was going on, an aroma made up of roasting turkey legs and other treats filled my nose and led me to my destination. As I sloshed through the mud and entered the faire, the guards yelled at me warningly. The enchanted purple bracelet they had given me was to worn at all times; otherwise, the guards would arrest me and take me to the front gate, where I would wait for my “chaperone”. Do you have any insight on what this thing they spoke of was? From their tone, I would imagine it was one of the foulest creatures to roam this land. Without looking at a map, I was able to locate the source of the scent that had persuaded me to enter. I handed over my money to the grubby hands of the wench as she tossed me a roasted, partially burnt, turkey leg. My first bite into the salty meat consisted of charcoal and burnt skin. The faire was filled with chatter between companions and all the stands. Shrill screams from thieves caught by the guards would occasionally break over the low rumble of small talk and bartering. Many of the vendors were as stubborn as my wife, something I didn’t think was possible! As I walked through the fair I met many interesting characters and performers. In the center of the faire was an extremely talented mime, judging from the clinking of coins in his chest. I then happened upon the most despicable human, although creature would be a better description. His hunchback was covered in rotting rodent tails. The stench coming from this beast made my eyes water and my stomach flip. When I encountered him, he gladly dashed over with no respect for personal space. I could feel the moisture of his breath upon my chest, as the hairs on my neck stood up. After I escaped from the strange presence of that creature I headed over to the dungeon’s stage. Here they clamored and grabbed thieves onto the grimy old arena and punished them for their deeds. The crowd erupted in laughter from the presentation of the clumsy prosecutor and his dim-witted assistant. After that show, I headed to leave, but found myself attracted to the sword fighting ring. Men would pay to challenge the black knight into a sword fight, with the victor obtaining deafening recognition from the crowd. The clash of swords and flesh reverberated all around, and one was very tempted to see the battle; if only for a mere moment of excitement. As I left the faire, my chest ached and my throat tightened, and I realized what a fun time I had there. I will certainly be returning! Would you like to accompany me next time? Your friend, Eric Eliasson
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Welcome
Hello class, Welcome to the Brit Lit Blog. This is a place we can continue our discussions from class, ask questions, collaborate on assignments, and even bring up new ideas that haven't come up in class. If you miss a class discussion, you can come here to share your thoughts with us and make up the participation points you've missed by being out. I hope we can make good use of this space to enhance our experiences in Brit Lit this year. Enjoy!
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