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  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

Saga - Legends The Book of Gand, Parts 1–3 (mostly OCs)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by Findswoman , Apr 23, 2014.

  1. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thank you so much for stopping by and reading and for this very kind review, Cynical_Ben. It's great to have you here. :)

    I suppose one doesn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the Gand have always been my favorite alien race in SW ever since I first read the Zuckuss story in Tales of the Bounty Hunters back in high school. Indeed, in certain ways, I've found them to be one of the most alien in certain ways, between their insectoid biology, ammoniac atmosphere, idiosyncratic speech patterns, and complicated rules about self-reference. There was never tons about them in the official lore, but there was just enough to make me think to myself, "hmmm, what if I just started making up some more things about them?" And that, ultimately, is where this story came from. :)

    Thanks! I wasn't familiar with Edward before you mentioned him, but I just looked him up, and there do indeed seem to be some notable similarities—the mix of casual arrogance with moments of true nobility. Here, too, there was precious little to go on with the character's portrayal in the official lore, and what there is tends to be contradictory (and indeed, Zuckuss is a rather notorious example of the inconsistencies rampant in EU character handling, though he's not the only example by any means). What I've tried to do is to make this younger version of him compatible in some way with all those contradictory depictions in canon, and the result was this Edward Elric-like youth who goes at the drop of a hat from callow choler to high-minded gallantry and back again. I'm glad you find it effective, because I wondered for a while how well that approach would work!

    I'm glad you like her—perhaps it’s not difficult to tell that I have a particular soft spot for her, too, and she’s certainly the OC in this story who’s been in development the longest. The way Ewok Poet described her above as a Pandora’s Box is pretty much spot on—she’s full of powers that she neither fully understands nor can fully control, and there are more secrets and powers in her than she knows yet. As to her future fate, well, for now I all I can say are things like “you shall see” and "[face_whistling]” and so forth.

    Gee, that's quite a compliment—thank you so much. @};- Now, if I ran the world, or Lucasfilm, or both... but I don't, so I'm here instead. :p


    I shall definitely let you know when it does. Many thanks again! :)
     
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  2. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    The next chapter is just around the corner, but there's just one minor housekeeping tidbit I'd like to take care of first—namely, I'd like to get up to date this story's tag list. So far here is everyone who ever has, at one time or another, been on the tag list or asked to be thereon, in alphabetical order:

    Admiral_Volshe
    Cynical_Ben
    Goodwood
    Kahara
    K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku

    If you would like to continue to be tagged when I post new chapters of this story, please let me know, either here or by PM. If I do not hear from you within a week of this post, then I'll take your name off the list.

    Thanks! :)
     
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  3. Cynical_Ben

    Cynical_Ben Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Aug 12, 2013
    Please keep me on the list. I'm really looking forward to the next part. But no rush! I'd much prefer you take your time and be happy with it.
     
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  4. K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku

    K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku Jedi Grand Master star 3

    Registered:
    Apr 18, 2000
    Keep tagging me please! I don't want to miss a word! :D
     
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  5. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thank you all for your responses. :) Here's the next chapter along with the updated tag list:

    Cynical_Ben, Kahara, K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku



    Chapter XVII

    With the help of Y’keb and the Healing Stillness meditation, Telfien recovered quickly from her intuitive shock. In the days that followed, she was able to go about her studies as usual with Volokoss and Zuckuss. The three of them decided that it would be best to hold her hunting exercises and more intensive practice meditations outside until her control over her abilities improved, in the interest of avoiding inadvertent damage. Sudden gusts of wind or strange cracklings of the air were less alarming in the temple gardens and grounds than in the confines of a teaching room, and falling fruit or dead branches less startling than falling books or lamps. The customary preliminary and concluding rituals, including the initial Stillness of the Fog meditation, were still held inside in the teaching room as before.

    Telfien thrived in this new arrangement. Gardens were familiar territory for her, and she enjoyed exploring the richly appointed plantings and tranquil arbors that were so different from the cramped, crammed back garden she knew in N’xid. It was here that Volokoss and Zuckuss first introduced her to the Ritual of Wayseeking, and before long she had committed to her intuition not only a luminous map of the entire temple grounds but also a full mental inventory of all the plants that grew on them. She threw herself into her studies with renewed rigor and drive—a rigor and drive born not only of her own increasing skill and the appeal of her surroundings, but also (Zuckuss thought) of a deep desire to avoid a repeat of that fateful incident in the teaching room. Indeed, Volokoss and Zuckuss often had to caution her to temper her rigor: not to lock her joints or clench her mandibles during stationary meditations, for example, or not to exaggerate her upright posture during walking meditations (which she had only just begun to learn). But at least her control seemed to be improving, and there were fewer and fewer mishaps during her lessons. Zuckuss gave himself a certain amount of credit for this: soon after the teaching room incident he had consigned the shellackoid miniature of Zukfel Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd to a drawer in his quarters, never more to be included among the objects (always unbreakable) brought outside for Telfien’s practice hunts.

    Before long the scope of these hunts expanded beyond the temple grounds to the neighboring bluffs and ridges. Here Telfien immersed herself in the study of the local wildlife, vegetation, and weather, learning to probe their patterns and vagaries with the tiniest tendrils of intuition. She also began working on a Wayseeking map of the entire southwestern region of the colony—an effort that would her take multiple visits and meditations to complete, but one to which her teachers felt she was equal. Occasionally Volokoss gave Zuckuss leave to bring her along on his own supply runs or reconnaissance and assignments—always with Volokoss monitoring them closely by comlink.

    One day, as mists of gray-white cold hung over the mountaintops of R’Kalýma, Zuckuss wrapped himself in his thickest hooded outer cloak, lined with deep brown weg fur, and pulled on his heaviest boots and gloves. He had been assigned a scouting excursion to the Thuu Edrei, the rugged, icy highlands at the colony’s westernmost edge, where Mount Rhangneth’tha and its bizarre rock formations loomed high over the jagged peaks. Telfien would be accompanying him; she had been instructed to collect the necessary supplies from the temple armory and to meet him and Volokoss at one of the landing pads. They would have one of the temple’s speeders at their disposal.

    Volokoss and Telfien stood waiting for Zuckuss at the landing pad, and a sleek, convertible airspeeder, capable of holding three to four beings, hovered behind them. Zuckuss reverenced Volokoss as he approached; Telfien, wrapped in a hooded outer cloak of thick dark red knit and shouldering a heavy spacer’s bag of supplies, gave her young mentor a slight bow with her free hand cupped before her chest. He waved one hand over her head in response.

    Telfien glanced quickly at Volokoss; at a slight nod from him she began speaking. “Telfien has brought everything you requested, Findsman Zuckuss.”

    Zuckuss took the spacer’s bag from her, opened it, and peered in. “Rope, crampons, grappling hooks, nitrogen flares, electrobinoculars . . .” He reached in and stuck something metallic with his claw. “And there’s the medkit, yes. Good. Did you check out a datapad from the library?”

    “Yes, Findsman Zuckuss.” She tapped her chest with one claw; a solid thud indicated that the device was inside her breast pocket.

    “Good. You and Zuckuss will be preparing the usual report for Findsmaster Volokoss.” He gestured to her to turn to face the elder Findsmaster. Both apprentices bowed their heads as their master blessed them with a wave of his hand.

    “May the Sacred Visionary Mists show you the way through the mountains, protecting you from harm and blessing you both to a safe return. And you, Findsman Zuckuss Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd . . .” He pulled Zuckuss gently aside and lowered his voice. “Remember: have patience and forbearance with the young one, and remember to inform Volokoss by comm if anything . . . unusual happens with her.”

    “Zuckuss shall do so, Findsmaster Volokoss. And may the Mists likewise abide with you.” So saying, Zuckuss raised his hood and climbed into the speeder and indicated to Telfien to do the same. He started the engines, and soon they were zooming over the mist-draped mountains in a haze of glowing blue exhaust.

    * * *

    It was midday when the foothills of the Thuu Edrei came into view. Midday according to the speeder’s chronometer, at least; for there was not a shred of Te’el-Viire-Gand to be seen in the dense purple-gray mists that hung brooding above the mountaintops. Slick patches of blue-white ice coated the gray mountainsides like Findsman’s armor, and foggy gray darkness hung thick in the valleys. In the distance the dark outline of a mine headframe peeked upward through the fog. Here, as Zuckuss knew, lay the largest ore mine in R’Kalýma—and his own brother Gorruss, along with his Findsmaster and several others, had once successfully tracked down an entire band of fugitive miners on those same savage, frozen mountainsides.


    It was only a few minutes more before the immense, icy bulk of Mount Rhangneth’tha hove into view before them. Dark rock forms adorned its sides, but larger than any of them was the enormous heap of rubble that dominated its central ridge, forming a giant black blot across the mountain’s face.

    “So that is Mount Rhangneth’tha, Findsman Zuckuss?” Telfien asked, her eyes and mandibles wide with wonder.

    “Yes, it is.” He angled the speeder slightly closer and gestured upward. “And look there, Telfien. Do you remember in Trynfor’s second chronicle, where he writes of meditating in the palm of Intuition’s Hand?”

    Telfien’s mandibles popped in recognition. “Is one of these Intuition’s Hand, Findsman Zuckuss?”

    “Yes, if Zuckuss remembers aright.”

    “Which one is it? Viurraanvi is afraid she cannot see it. None of them look like the sketch he made.”

    “Well . . . it’s that . . . that pile of rocks there, in the center.” Zuckuss pointed to it.

    “Really? What happened?”

    “It fell. It tumbled in on itself. There is always a danger that that may happen with formations like these,” he added hastily in response to her clacks of puzzlement, “especially during extreme weather conditions. You can see some others just below that Intuition’s Hand took with it when it fell.” He indicated a few smaller rockpiles on a ridge below.

    “You know so much about Intuition’s Hand, Findsman Zuckuss.”

    “Well, Zuckuss has read Trynfor’s chronicles just as you have. But also . . .” He paused. “Zuckuss was . . . there when it happened. He will tell you all about it someday.”

    They drove onward in silence for a few moments as Zuckuss piloted downward into one of the fog-purple valleys.

    “Findsman Zuckuss, if Viurraanvi may ask . . .”

    “Yes, Telfien?”

    “Would it be possible, perhaps, for you and Viurraanvi begin scouting up there, by the ruin of Intuition’s Hand?”

    “And why, when Findsmaster Volokoss specifically indicated the shorter peak south of the headframe?”

    “Yes, but . . . if you please, Findsman Zuckuss . . . you know how the Holy Madman wrote that it was one of his favorite places to meditate, because of the strong mist currents there . . .”

    “What of it?” A hiss of impatience crept into Zuckuss’s voice.

    “Well . . . perhaps there still are strong mist currents there, even now? You and Viurraanvi could gain much from them on this mission.”

    Zuckuss thought for a few moments. He had never before known his young student to so keen to follow in the meditative path of the holy Findsman Trynfor; she had read and heard no more about him than any other Findsman apprentice had. But the Mists were indeed known to move in particularly intricate ways in these ancient, irregular landscapes, and Their currents were often still traceable even through wreckage, rubble, and remains. And the more assistance they could gather from the Mists, the better, for they were both in a place they had never visited before. With those thoughts in his mind, Zuckuss turned the speeder around and upward, making directly for the rock-strewn central ridge of Mount Rhangneth’tha.

    “Zuckuss supposes it could do no harm at least to stop and investigate. And then you and he shall proceed to the southern peak, understood?”

    “Yes, Findsman Zuckuss. Kindest thanks.”

    * * *

    A few minutes later the speeder touched down a short ways from the ruined rock formation, its ice-grips digging with a loud crunch into the frozen silver-blue mountainside. Zuckuss powered down the engines, then took a pair of crampons from the supply bag and strapped them onto his boots; Telfien did likewise. Both disembarked and began to crunch their way over the snowy ground toward the ruins.

    Wisps of low-hanging whitish mists wreathed the black rocks, occasionally welling into tiny glowing blue-white vortices in the cracks between. As he walked through the ruins, Zuckuss removed one glove and began to pass his hand just above the surface of the rocks, following their contours.

    “Yes, there are unusually strong mist currents here,” Zuckuss observed. “It is no wonder the Holy Madman favored this spot. Though it is by no means unheard of in these old formations. Take your glove off, Telfien, and you’ll be able to feel them.”

    Telfien took off her glove as well and began to rub her fingers together in the air as if she were feeling the texture of a piece of cloth. The cold caused the tiny sensory hairs on her fingers to tingle.

    “Yes, Telfien can feel them; they are very strong here. Findsman Zuckuss, do you think . . .”

    “Does Findsman Zuckuss think what?”

    “Do you think . . . perhaps Telfien might try doing her preliminary scouting meditation here?”

    “Zuckuss doesn’t see why not.” He replaced his glove. “But do not forget to take your atmospheric measurements first. And remember that you will have to do all of this at the southern peak as well.”

    “Yes, Telfien understands.” She seated herself on one of the larger rock pieces. As soon as she did, the surrounding mists began to crackle and spark, and a good quantity of gravel clattered ominously over the edge of the ridge. Telfien recoiled and gave a mandible-pop of horror, but all was calm again within moments. Zuckuss came over beside her.

    “Oh, Findsman Zuckuss, this Gand is so sorry—please forgive, please—”

    “Do not worry, Telfien, no harm has been done.” He spoke as calmly as he could, but it worried him to see Telfien’s problems with control returning again, especially after she had made so much improvement in that area over the past weeks. Or was it something else altogether, something about the place itself? He watched her a moment as she shifted on the stone, rummaged in her inside pocket for her datapad, and set it to record the temperature, air pressure, and wind speed. A few of the white wispy mists had begun to coil around her feet and legs—but she was busy with her measurements and did not notice them. Zuckuss glanced at his own feet; the mists occasionally brushed them but were not coiling around them in the same way. Of course, he was not was preparing to meditate, as Telfien was.

    “There, Telfien is ready now, Findsman Zuckuss. She wonders if you could—could stand beside and assist? Please, just in case?”

    “Yes, Zuckuss can assist your meditation. Shall he”—his voice became quieter—“place his hand—as usual—to steady you?"

    Telfien gave a tiny click. “You always ask that, Findsman Zuckuss.”

    “Zuckuss always asks it because he must,” he retorted, clacking in mild annoyance. “Findsmaster Volokoss has told him so. Matters would be different if you were also a male, Telfien. Now answer him, please.”

    “Yes, Findsman Zuckuss, you may place your hand.”

    “Good, then.” He moved to stand behind her and laid one hand very gently on her shoulder. “Please begin.”

    Telfien closed her eyes, held both her hands upward before her, and began to draw the deep, regular breaths of meditation. Zuckuss inhaled and closed his eyes halfway as well, keeping his one hand on her shoulder and holding up the other. Scouting meditations were by no means the deepest or most intense of the Findsman’s techniques; they required that one maintain basic sensory awareness even as the intuition worked to process and interpret the data of the senses. That data, in turn, could be assisted by pings of intuitive energy emitted into one’s surroundings, akin to those used in the Ritual of Wayseeking.

    So far all was calm and proceeding normally. Telfien was doing well; Zuckuss could sense her intuition tracing even the minutest temperature fluctuations or changes in the direction or speed of the wind. He felt each of the tiny intuitive pulses she sent out to map her surroundings: sparks of invisible light outlined the rock formations, the distant headframe, the mist-shrouded peaks, and the few squat, ice-embedded shrubs that dotted them (“brown-leafed gwa-rho and mountain zgaat,” he had heard her mind say). Like a tiny shooting star, one of those pulses tumbled gently down over the mountainside into the valley, where for a single moment it illuminated a distant, hazy form: a living form, a Gand form.

    A miner? A scout? Another Findsman? His intuition tingled, but he maintained his position beside his student.

    A sudden icy tang in the air grazed his antennae, and even under his hood the barely visible sensory hairs on his head began to tighten and bristle. He leaned his head forward to probe the taste in the air with his palps and tongue. Was it the onset of a storm? The Thuu Edrei were notorious for the ammonia-ice storms that ravaged them during the cold season . . .

    Whatever he had felt, Telfien had felt it as well, for she twitched beneath his hand.

    “Calm of the Mists enfold you,” he murmured to her, as was customary, steadying her in the grip of his claws. She calmed and continued meditating.

    Zuckuss, however, opened his eyes. He hated to leave Telfien’s side, especially after that moment of shock. But if there really was a storm coming, and if there really were beings down in the valley, he felt he should at least investigate and ensure that they were safe. His own intuition was now prodding him to do so. Moving cautiously over the rocks to the edge of the cliff, he took out the electrobinoculars and scanned the valley.

    Yes—there it was. He could not see much detail, but there was indeed someone there. An adult Gand, wrapped in a cloak—Zuckuss could not tell from this distance whether this was a Findsman or a secular, a male or a female—was reclining against what looked like some sort of crashed vehicle. Whoever this was was at least conscious, occasionally shifting and glancing anxiously about, but seemed to be injured and unable to walk. Now and then the figure extended one arm futilely into the blasted-open doorway of the vehicle as though reaching for something, perhaps a comlink to call for help; each time the gloved hand came back empty.

    Zuckuss stowed the electrobinoculars and made his way back toward Telfien and the speeder as quickly as he could. There was no question about it: he would have to bring Telfien out of her meditation so that they could go to the rescue of this other injured Gand in the valley, especially if there was a storm on the way. He had read of how treacherous the valleys of the Thuu Edrei could become during ice storms, of how the ice slicked over the valley and the roots of the surrounding mountains, leaving anyone unfortunate enough to be in the valley trapped between ice too slippery and rocks too sharp. He placed a hand on Telfien’s shoulder to begin the Hand of Rescue, noticing that the whirling white mist currents were now encircling most of her body . . .

    Just then a sudden cry rent the icy air. Two golden eyes burst firelike through the haze and the mist currents scattered.

    “HE! IT’S HE!”

    Zuckuss ran over to Telfien and steadied her with one hand. “Calm of the Mists enfold you, Telfien! What is wrong?”

    “IT’S HE!” she cried again, quivering in his grasp.

    “It’s who?

    “It’s . . . your ancestor, Findsman Zuckuss, from the portrait . . . the one with the eyes like yours . . . he was . . . glaring at Viurraanvi again.”

    “Telfien.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder and leaned close to her. “Please have no fear. Old Zukfel is long dead and cannot hurt anyone. And you know Zuckuss never carries him around with him anymore.” He tapped his chest directly over his inner cloak pocket.

    Telfien quieted suddenly and clenched her hands together in her lap. “Gand knows, Findsman Zuckuss . . . it is probably just an idle fog-vision and Gand should know better than to—”

    A tiny ping nearby interrupted her words: something small and sharp had fallen on the ice. Ping, ping, another and another—hailstones were hitting the snow-crusted ground. Gradually the pings merged into a pitter-patter, then into a steady roar as gravelly hail began beating down. The storm had begun.

    “Quick, Telfien!” Zuckuss grabbed her hand. “To the speeder!”

    “In the valley—what—”

    “When Zuckuss was reconnoitering earlier he saw someone down in the valley who needs help, and with this storm—come! Quickly!”

    He grabbed her hand, and both ran for the speeder through the driving pelt of ice. They strapped themselves in, and Zuckuss gunned the motor. Golden headlights shimmered and engines keened over the roar of the storm as the airspeeder swooped over the rocky slopes. Harsher and faster the wind blew, and thicker and harder the hail fell, no longer stony pellets but sharp flinty blades.

    Telfien watched her young master as he piloted the airspeeder downward into the valley. He was hunched over the steering column, mandibles clenched, silver eye-facets glinting furiously—and yet his hands seemed to be trembling as he gripped the controls. Once his hand slipped from the steering yoke for a moment; the airspeeder rolled dangerously to one side, almost grazing the sheer face of the mountain. Telfien gripped her seat; Zuckuss caught it again quickly and regained his course, his nictitating membranes fluttering nervously over his eyes as he did so.

    “Findsman Zuckuss? Are you—is it—is something—”

    “Please forgive Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd for that,” came the almost muttered reply. “The fact is—”

    “What?”

    “The fact is—his intuition is prickling him.”

    “About what?”

    “About the wounded, in the valley . . . Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd feels that it is . . .” Zuckuss broke off as his hands trembled again on the controls. “. . . that it is someone he knows But please”—here his words became faster, tenser—“do not let that trouble you. It is probably nothing, probably just some other apprentice from the temple.”

    “Telfien understands, Findsman Zuckuss,” answered his student softly, adding in her mind: Calm of the Mists enfold you, as well.

    Just then the wounded figure and the crashed vehicle came into view through the merciless downpour of ice. The figure raised one hand and began to gesticulate in the yellow glow of the headlights; Zuckuss brought the speeder in to land nearby, engaging the ice grips.

    “Telfien, bring the medkit, and stay behind Zuckuss!”

    They both disembarked and ran up to the wounded traveler, who was struggling to remain upright against the side of the vehicle. Zuckuss knelt beside him, gesturing for Telfien to hand him the medkit.

    “Are you injured?” shouted Zuckuss as loudly as he could over the storm. “Can you—FATHER!”

    “Ah, Sacred Mists! Sweet youngest is to be his rescuer . . .” His mandibles clacked raucously even as his voice faltered, and he batted his hand feebly against his right leg. “Ankle . . . plates dislodged . . . some kind of befoggèd rock stuck in there . . . please help . . .”


    The weg (and its fur), gwa-rho, and mountain zgaat are all my own creations and are described in my fanon post on Gand flora and fauna.

    Mount Rhangneth’tha and its rock formations, notably Intuition’s Hand, first appear in chapter 2 of this story. Zuckuss references the events of that chapter when he speaks of having been "there when it happened."
     
  6. Sith-I-5

    Sith-I-5 Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 14, 2002
    It is a few weeks since I noticed that I did not have my smaller avatar pic superimposed over yours to indicate that I had visited this thread. I have now read Chapter One.

    I was initially concerned that I had been here before with the first two paragraphs, because I had visited that piece when the Empire invaded Gand, and only got up to a lone Findswoman weeping in some temple before I had to abandon it.

    Did you use the same introductory text in both stories?

    Besides that, I was pulled in by the depth of the society that you have weaved here, adults and children; the incomprehensible names that you used with ease, seemed beyond the call.

    I enjoyed reading about how these individuals earned their names, how Mock Hunts were organised, and the familial relationship that brings us to young Gand.

    This writer (eg. me) is unfortunately saddled with viewing things through an Earthly eye, so while I marvelled at there lived the Master Findsman Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd. Fengor was one of the most celebrated Findsmen of his generation, the scion of one of the most ancient and highly respected Findsman families on all of Gand, and he could trace his lineage back almost a full millennium, in the back of my mind, I'd be thinking, yeah, but it would take him ******* days!

    Even though I remember the basics of Gand naming from the Rogue Squadron novels, and your expanded re-introduction was sublime, I love the way you eased us into Gand had a circle of playmates his age.

    :)

    Very easy for the reader to start to look at the children as familiar human kids, so the inclusion of mandibles and palps were good reminders to keep us on the straight and narrow.

    I enjoyed the familiarity of Gand packing a child’s plastoid knife. I remember those days, treating a toy version of something with the seriousness the real thing would have carried for an adult.

    Was Gand subconsciously looking for the missing holocube during the Mock Hunt in the marketplace, because he was picking up and examining items way too small to fit a Gand of comparable age - I was wondering if he was searching for Ant-Man!

    How in the Original Light did Gand not see the rest of the searchers? They were clearly close enough to spot him the moment he abandoned the square and stopped to meditate.

    “But these Gands came to Your Mystical Honor,” taunted another rather thickset young male, bowing exaggeratedly

    Always one of them thickset young lads in any group of bullies, eh? :p

    Great stuff with their exchange, though I did not like Gand lying to the others. Was quite critical of him.

    He hardly got to meditate, so I don't know how he detected the holocube in the adult's pocket, though I liked how you had him turn slowly to face the adult, as if mentally homing in on it.

    One child outpacing a grown-up for a short period is probable, and losing the pursuer over long distances is shown many times in media - ooh, just got a Charles Dickens' vibe.

    Child dragging another, for whom the impression was not given that he knew he had to match Gand's pace and urgency; plus, all the way to wherever this rally point temple was, and it did not sound close, seemed implausible.

    And the busting of Syrok Vrixx’tt really rested with whatever Gand produced for his mother.

    Syrok bursting in and saying “What is the meaning of this?!” he blustered. “Give that back at once!” and “Why, you miserable little thief—” is only indicative that he'd felt a Gand's hand in his pocket, and then run away!

    I am glad at least that the adults took a few moments of observation before conferring a name on Gand, cos the little ****** could have set the old guy up.

    Mm, things are getting a little hot round here. I'll bring it with me on the hunt, and get some old dude to chase me back to the Temple. How about Green Eyes' Dad? He didn't give out sweets at Halloween, the old git. And what sort of excuse is 'Halloween? What the **** is Halloween' anyway?

    I find myself feeling a bit sorry for Syrok. After all your build up of how much respect a Gand has to earn to get his own name, let alone the family, he must have earned respect for something in the past. He probably just wanted a look at the secrets, and could not find an opportunity to put it back.
    Hope this does not affect the Green Eyed kid too badly. Poor lad. Glad you had a parent put an arm round him.

    Very well written, awesome level of detail.

    Don't get why the Supreme Monarch himself stands in awe of Fengor being the Guardian of Trynfor’s Vault - accident of birth; no big deal.

    Also, very lucky that Gand (the society, planet, and civilisation) never had tomb raiders during that millennium.

    9/10

    Mm. Just occurred to me that Syrok would probably know where the rally point was, so conceivably could have lost sight of his quarry, and intercepted him at the Temple just a little too late.

    So...

    10/10
     
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  7. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Good to see you here, I-5. Thank you so much for coming by and taking a chance on this! :)

    One never has to abandon any story, my dear fellow. ;) But it is good perhaps that you're checking out this one before "Between the Porch and the Altar," because the former will help make a lot of things in the latter clearer.

    Not identical, but similar, and intentionally so, because they're part of a similar universe, of course. :)

    Thank you! And I had a great time coming up with all this—this kind of expansion and worldbuilding is one of my personal favorite things about the medium of fanfic, and I was so taken with this particular species when I first read about them that I simply couldn't help myself!

    Yes, and I hope you won't mind my saying that this is one thing I've noticed about you as a reader and commenter—and just by way of warning, this story here is indeed a pretty un-Earthly one that might not always align so well with that approach. And of course Fengor wouldn't actually spend all his time tracing all his genealogy himself—he's a senior Findsman with better things to do (!). What I just meant by the sentence you quoted was that his lineage has been traced back almost a full millennium.

    I am eternally grateful to Michael Stackpole for all the development he did on Gand species and culture in those books—they, or at least that part of them, were a pretty instrumental influence on this story of mine. (Which I wish I could show to him, if it weren't for those accursed silly rules about profic authors not reading fanfic! :( )

    That mix of the familiar and the alien is a huge theme throughout this story, and I'm glad you felt it worked well here. Given how revered the Findsmen are, I would imagine that the children would enjoy playing at being them, accoutrements and all—and that such play would indeed be treated seriously (as it is here), since it could conceivably lead to children taking that path themselves eventually.

    Now that's an interesting interpretation! Perhaps he was—I'll leave that up to you as the reader. My idea here was simply that he was playing at being an investigator and therefore felt like he had to investigate anything and everything, just in the interest of going whole hog.

    Maybe he did see them, maybe he didn't; it's not really important to the story whether he did or not. They may have just turned onto his street at that moment and spotted them. Is it really important? :p

    Yep, I think that must be some kind of Galactic Universal! :p

    Oh, of course that wasn't a good thing for him to do. It was sneaky and dishonest. But at this point he's still quite young, so he's still got time to learn The Right Way to Behave.

    That was supposed to be a sort of sudden flash of intuition of the kind that sometimes happens to those with prodigious intuitive gifts. (His meditation attempt wasn't about the holocube anyway—it was about the other child he was supposed to find.)

    If someone running really fast is dragging you along with them, I would say you have to match their speed and urgency—it's that or fall on the ground and literally be dragged! :p But yes, this kind of ragtag urban scene is indeed meant to have a bit of a Dickensian feel. You will see the same in some later chapters, in an urban area on a different part of Gand.

    Isn't that enough, though? Someone wouldn't put a hand in someone else's pocket unless they were going to steal something, oder?

    Of course they would reflect and observe at least for a bit before conferring something as important as conferring a name. Not to be taken lightly!

    That's a perfectly fair point: the higher the climb, the farther the fall. But stealing what's not yours is not right, name or no name, and whatever you may just intend to do with the item stolen. As on Earth, one relatively small action can undo a lifetime's worth of respect.

    And when one finds out about one's own parent does that sort of thing... well, that hurts extra, and I wanted even these serious, businesslike Findsmen to acknowledge that.

    Thank you so much. :)

    It's not Fengor personally that he's in awe of—he's in awe of the whole institution of the Guardians of Trynfor's Vault. Trynfor's Treasure contains extreme mystical power, and whoever is guarding that kind of power not only (a) would need to have pretty prodigious power himself, but also (b) would definitely deserve a lot of respect.

    If you're talking about Trynfor's Treasure, it has the advantage of residing in an EXTREMELY SECURE location that raiders of any kind would have a very hard time accessing—read on and you'll see. ;)


    Perhaps so, given that his son was a participant in the mock hunt; since he knew the protagonist was part of the hunt too, of course it would make sense for both boys to show up there eventually.

    Thanks again for your thoughtful comment, and I hope to see you back! :)
     
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  8. Kahara

    Kahara FFoF Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 3, 2001
    It's nice to see Telfien and her teachers having a relatively peaceful time in her training at the beginning of the chapter. At least the unsettling events that caused them to change her environment have some good effects along with scaring everyone involved! Being outside in the gardens seems to be helping a lot, and the outdoors may be a lot less breakable in general. ;)

    Thuu Edrei sounds like a beautiful place, and I like how the intense coldness and rugged nature of the landscape is described. It's a neat contrast to the more warm/temperate feel of the cities and towns. Like I mentioned in earlier comments, the extreme altitude and spiritual aspect to the place remind me of the Andes --and likely plenty of other Earth parallels. (Okay, so I have a weakness for vivid settings and spend a lot of time talking about the scenery. :p)

    Neat to revisit Zuckuss's much earlier connection with the Hand of Intuition. Telfien's being so interested and drawn to the place made me wonder if we were in for another rockslide.




    I like the way that we get a sense of Telfien and Zuckuss's evolving relationship throughout the chapter. They're not quite one thing or another and there's some natural-feeling awkwardness on both sides.

    Zuckuss in particular is partly exasperated like an older teen stuck carting around a younger kid, partly the thoughtful and dedicated mentor trying hard to be wise beyond his years for his charge (and not doing half badly at that), and partly tentative and uncertain about the fact that she's a girl. While his life hasn't been totally without female influences -- not by a long shot -- most of them seem to have been older mentors and relatives. So this is probably a really unfamiliar situation, trying to figure out how to act with someone younger than himself.

    Telfien, meanwhile, appears to have a more straightforward view. She sees Zuckuss as someone to respect and admire, and maybe shows signs of wanting to befriend him but holding back because she doesn't want to intrude. (At least, that's how her request for him to stay close and help her meditate reads to me. I'm thinking there's kind of a crush, but not a romantic one, going on there.)

    Interesting that the Mists seem to literally cling to Telfien given half a chance; I can't think that's coincidence. There appears to be some sort of connection, or at least a parallel, with the odd things that happen to Zuckuss.



    Well, that's not creepy at all... :p Especially given the strange appearance of Fengor in this remote place. o_O His greeting to Zuckuss sounds more like a warning sign of being up to no good in light of their past issues and Fengor's suspicious disappearance. No longer a disappearance it seems, but that doesn't explain his presence at Thuu Edrei. [face_thinking]
     
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  9. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    Well...That started out pretty mundane and naive, to the point where I wondered if this chapter was just a giant fanon demonstration...and then it gradually build up to what was, very likely, the wackiest sequence in the entire thing so far! Eeep! I did not expect this, I did not expect this at all.


    Placing Telfien into an environment she feels more comfortable in seems to have elevated her powers, as opposed to taming them. I'm not sure if this will make her stronger or more vulnerable. Zuckuss appears to be gaining ego as much as he does knowledge, so it will be interesting to see how much and if they are alike in this aspect.


    I guess that one of the things I like about Telfien is the same thing I like about Zuckuss - there is something very, very Teebo in her. She is very powerful, but she cannot quite tame her own powers. And to think that there is so much potential in her is somewhat frightening. She is a golden-eyed girl who could also be a goldmine for both those who need her help, but also those who want to exploit her.


    The next thing that comes to mind is just how much of her surroundings is Telfien able to absorb. And this might be one of those off-the-wall theories, but I wonder if she can eventually absorb *too much* and stop being responsive to, well, absolutely every single little thing to that extent? Or if absorbing too much is precisely what allows her to, in simple terms, play dead in BTPATA?


    Now, the whole sequence of events that I praised earlier is just...wow. Zuckuss looks like Zukfel AND Fengor at various ages. So, if Fengor was there to stop Zuckuss from doing something or investigate something, then somebody else or even Telfien's own powers could have done something to him, with the connection and all. Will have to re-read some things, almost certainly!
     
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  10. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thank you both so much for those wonderfully thoughtful reviews. @};-

    That is exactly the principle! :D Indeed, minimizing the unsettling events is the main point of moving things outside, and fact that it happens to be a kind of environment she knows well is a nice bonus—but it's a big bonus, and one of which her teachers were certainly aware.

    Who can blame you? :p I feel like I should now read more about the Andes, in the interest of inspiration gathering and general YKYAFFWitude! :D I have very little experience with mountains myself, the closest I've come being the foothills of the Olympic Mountains in northwestern Washington State, so I'm glad this came off convincingly.

    (Incidentally, on the subject of the Andes, or at least of that general part of the world—one of my ideas about the pocket colonies of Gand is that they're kind of like very, very big tepui, features which of course have mystical significance to some Earth cultures. Hmm, more parallels that would be interesting to explore further...)

    Well, almost, and there was a little bit of one... but yes, it is notable that Telfien is drawn to the place and that the place, in its way, is drawn to her.

    "Not quite one thing or another" is indeed what I'm going for at this point in their relationship—it's meant to be kind of polyvalent and ever-changing, at least at this stage—so I am glad that came off all right!

    He certainly is all those things—though note too that he mentions that Volokoss was the one who instituted the rule about asking her for permission each time he steadies her during a meditation. It's kind of a slightly Antioch College-like arrangement, only, well, for routine student-teacher contact. I wonder now if Volokoss himself anticipated some of those very feelings of awkwardness on his student's part, and thought for some reason that that kind of rule might actually help make things less awkward? [face_thinking] If that at all makes sense!

    She has admired him in some way ever since their first few meetings, because he was one of the first beings to show her any respect and kindness, both for standing up for her in the market encounter with the black-eyed boy and for helping her with the unduly difficult garden chore imposed upon her as punishment. Back then there was of course already a difference between the two of them because of social position—he's a Findsman apprentice, she's the child of gardeners. At this point, though, it's as though that difference has both steepened and closed up at the same time: they're in this subapprentice arrangement with Zuckuss as teacher and Telfien as student, but on the other hand they're both Findsfolk now, and both have been revealed to be in possession of prodigious untapped power.

    An apt observation indeed. One thing I'll say, besides "[face_whistling]," is that this is related to my point above about the place being drawn to her.


    In just another chapter or two Fengor's reasons for coming to R'Kalýma should become a good bit clearer. ;) (For one thing, that particular mountain range wasn't his final destination; he was just passing through.

    Well, you by now know me well enough to know that all my chapters are fanon demonstrations whether I plan them that way or not. :p Interestingly, the wackiness was a bit unplanned on my end, too; in the much older original chapter I was reworking, they just go to some random area in the mountains and none of the mystical wackiness happens (though they do rescue some crashed travelers—yes, it's more than one in that version). While putting this version together, I had a whim about having them go to the ledge where Intuition's Hand was... and the wackiness all sort of cascaded, domino-fashion from there. :p But I tried to do it in a way that I think (and hope) meshes with some of the main themes and threads of the story so far. There will be even more wackiness to come (by my own standards, at least).

    This is kind of a "you shall see" type of thing. See the point below, which is related—it's arguable that, for someone like Telfien, increased power leads to increased vulnerability. And perhaps that will be a sort of counterpart to Zuckuss's increase in ego... see, this is why I just love my readers for pointing out things like this, because I never thought of it quite that way before!

    They have at least as many similarities as differences, and the similarities and differences are constantly melding into each other. One of the most important similarities is exactly this: that they both are goldmines of powers that they don't even know about, though that's particularly true of her (cf. your earlier comment that she's "Pandora's box"). And the point that I bolded is a very important one. [face_nail_biting]

    And I know that any comparison made by you to Teebo is a big compliment indeed, so I thank you for that. :)

    Now, that is definitely an interesting theory. That ability to absorb so much could certainly be one of many aspects of her massive yet untapped power; I know I haven't worked out the full extent of it myself, because I kind of view it as the sort of thing that can't ever be fully worked out. Regarding the bit highlighted in black:

    Telfien's Mortal Stillness in "Between the Porch and the Altar" is a perfectly standard Findsman technique, but it could certainly be argued that the way she so completely absorbs the enormity of her situation is what indeed sets it off in the end, straw-that-breaks-the-camel's back fashion.

    Again, at least a few answers will be coming in the next few chapters. But rereading never hurts in a story like this; I know I've thrown a lot at y'all. :D

    Thank you both once again! Always a pleasure to read your thoughts and reactions to these little things of mine. @};-
     
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  11. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Tags: Cynical_Ben, Kahara, K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku.
    Many thanks, as always, to Kahara for beta-reading. @};-


    Chapter XVIII

    “Y-yes—yes—of course Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd will help—”

    Hands trembling profusely, Zuckuss retrieved the limb bindings from the medkit and began to bind up his father’s ankle. Telfien rushed over to help him, but he waved her away. It was difficult work: the ice storm continued to rage about them, and his father struggled and gnashed and cursed. At last, however, Zuckuss managed to secure the wounded area. He had even managed to remove a few of the rock pieces that had gotten lodged in the connective tissue between chitin plates, though the dislocated plates themselves would have to be left to the healers at the temple.

    “Th-there, all done. To the speeder, now.”

    Carefully but quickly, he lifted Fengor to his feet and helped him to the speeder, taking care to keep his weight off the injured ankle. Telfien picked up the medkit and followed, struggling a bit under its weight. For a brief moment she thought she saw those angry silver eyes again, flashing at her somewhere amid the thickly falling ice-shards. Whether they were far off or nearby, she could not tell.

    But she could not bother Zuckuss with that now, not while he was securing his injured father in the rear passenger area and elevating his leg on the adjacent seat, his own hands still visibly shaking. She stowed the medkit and strapped herself in, and within moments they were careering back eastward over the mountains.

    * * *

    The only sounds they heard as they sped on their way were the clatter of the ice storm against the hull of the airspeeder and occasional grumbles of pain from their new passenger. Zuckuss gripped the steering yoke as hard as he could to still his own trembling, which had not diminished. What had brought his father—Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd, chief of the Council of Findsmasters at the Great Temple of Gand and hereditary Guardian of Trynfor’s Vault—here to the wild slopes of R’Kalýma? Had he come to pay his son a visit? He had certainly never done so before—nor, indeed, would he have been expected to during the regular teaching period of the year.

    No, there had to be some other reason—some pressing reason. Zuckuss thought about what that might be as he piloted the speeder over the peaks and foothills of the Thuu Edrei. He knew his father was not the type to make a special pilgrimage to meditate on the rock formations of Mount Rhangneth’tha like Trynfor the Mad; few did anymore because of the danger of the place. Perhaps he was on some errand to the Araswani temple at the summit of Kazul-Lokúrei, though that was a good ways farther north. Or perhaps he had some kind of business in one of the villages at the southern edge of the colony, where Zuckuss and other apprentices were sometimes sent to purchase supplies—though there was nothing there one could not get just as easily back in Rhaguin. But whatever the reason was, Zuckuss certainly could not ask it of him now while he was injured and fatigued.

    Telfien, meanwhile, found herself full of curiosity about her new fellow passenger. So this was Zuckuss’s father! She remembered how all those seasons ago she had met his mother, who had examined her as a ruetsa’iivback at her parents’ home in N’xid. And now fate, or the Mists or both, had brought his father her way as well. She turned to look at him, since she had not been able to see him clearly outside in the storm.

    His eyes met hers. They were large, blazing, wrathful silver eyes—those eyes—IT’S HE!

    Quickly she turned away again, shifting uneasily in her seat. Zuckuss noticed her but remained silent, and the rest of the short trip was uneventful.

    * * *

    Volokoss was waiting for them on the temple landing pad. As soon as the airspeeder touched down and its entry hatch opened, he rushed to assist Zuckuss in helping Fengor out of the vehicle. Wrapping each of Fengor’s arms over their shoulders and supporting him about his waist with their hands, they began to escort him through the temple toward the healing wing.

    “Oh, friend Fengor!” Volokoss exclaimed, clicking worriedly. “What a calamity has befallen you!”

    “I’ve had worse,” grunted the other.

    “The Sacred Mists are truly to be thanked that your son was able to find you and bring you here.”

    “Yes, Father, it is good that you are not seriously hurt,” put in Zuckuss.

    “Hmmph,” was the only response.

    Slowly, laboriously, they walked on through the corridors of the temple, Fengor giving occasional groans of pain if his weight happened to fall on his injured foot. Telfien followed them, keeping a respectful distance. She still felt somewhat frightened of this father of Zuckuss’s. He resembled too much the silver-eyed visions that had alarmed her so, and even now, during this walk, she could have sworn that he turned his head to look back at her. But she swallowed her fear as best she could; he was injured and fatigued, after all, and she wished to be of any help she could to him, to Volokoss, and to Zuckuss.

    At last they reached the healing wing, and Fengor was committed to the care of the healers. A few other Findsmasters, Okkfel and Findslady Luyen among them had already gathered there and were conferring in low, urgent tones. Volokoss stood with Zuckuss, offering him words and gestures of comfort; occasionally some of the others would come over to say a few words to Zuckuss or to bless him. Telfien sat on a waiting-bench in one corner of the room, remaining as inconspicuous as she could but watching everything.

    At length Volokoss drifted over toward some of the other Findsmasters and began conversing with them. Zuckuss looked about to ensure none of the others was watching him, then came and sat beside Telfien in the corner of the room.

    “Telfien, you do not have to wait around here if you do not wish to.”

    “It would not be right for Telfien to leave you and Master Volokoss at a time like this,” she replied, barely audibly. “She would like to do whatever she can to help.”

    “Telfien, Telfien . . .” Zuckuss turned his head downward and to the side as if embarrassed, clicking a few times with his mouthparts.

    “What is it, Findsman Zuckuss?”

    “Telfien, your very presence has already been a great help to Zuckuss. And to his father and to Findsmaster Volokoss,” he quickly added. “But now all there is to do is wait while the healers evaluate his condition. Besides, you should not overexert yourself when . . .” He trailed off.

    “When what?”

    “When your own intuition is tingling with uncertainty. Yes, Zuckuss can sense it,” he added as her mouthparts popped in surprise, “and it’s all because of his father, who looks too much like old dead Zukfel. Is it not?”

    “Yes . . .” She lowered her eyes. “Gand supposes so.”

    “It was his proximity that triggered your . . . your vision in the mountains; of that Zuckuss is certain. And Zuckuss saw how much it scared you when you turned to look at him in the airspeeder.”

    “It’s true.” Telfien exhaled with a hiss. She paused, remembering how had looked back at her in that strange, curious, studying way; should she mention that to her young mentor? No, perhaps not; he had enough on his mind already.

    At last she said simply, “Perhaps Viurraanvi had better rest her intuition a bit.”

    Before Zuckuss could reply, one of the healing servants entered the room. The Finsdmasters fell silent and turned to look at him as he walked up to Zuckuss, saluting him with cupped hands in the customary manner.

    “Please pardon the interruption, Your Mystical Honor. Your father wishes to speak with you.”

    “Coming right away,” Zuckuss replied, then turned again to Telfien. “Yes, Zuckuss agrees that some mental and intuitive rest would do you well. Let your exercises and readings clear your mind. This has been a more stressful scouting mission than most, and hopefully the Mists will grant that the next one be more uneventful.”

    “Oh, may that be so! Thank you, Findsman Zuckuss.”

    “By all means, Telfien. May the Mists show you the way.”

    They bowed to each other. Zuckuss followed the healer into the ward, and Telfien returned through the temple corridors to her quarters.

    As she entered, her eye fell upon her moonbow orchid. The sight of her own little plant gave her a bit of comfort after all the stress and trauma of the day. And today it was more beautiful than ever before: all three stalks now bore dazzling white blooms—two fully open, one about halfway—and one new, tiny purple-pink bloom stalk was just starting to poke up through the leaves. It was time for her to water it, so she lifted it gently and took it over to the washbasin. There she let gentle stream of water flow into its pot, moistening the peaty moss in which it grew. Its tendrilly rhizomes perked up as the water washed over them, turning from dusty gray to brown-purple.

    And as she set the plant back down on its place beside her meditation alcove, and seated herself there on the cushions beside it, an idea came to her mind—one on which she resolved to meditate further.

    * * *

    Clad in his underrobes and wrapped in dark blankets, Fengor lay half-reclining in one of the infirmary beds. His injured ankle, wrapped in blood-blotched bindings, was elevated on a thick foam pad. A healing servant was monitoring him; as soon as Zuckuss was shown in, the servant reverenced both him and his father and left the room.

    Zuckuss pulled a nearby footstool up to the bed and sat down. “Greetings to you, Father.”

    “Likewise, youngest.” Fengor’s reply was gruff but slightly slurred, as if he were very tired.

    “Is all well with you?”

    “Oh yes, all is quite well. Dislocated tarsal plates, dislocated front talar plate, hairline fracture in rear talar plate, interstitial tissue infection in entire foot caused by embedded rubble. And then this befoggèd tranquilizing serum on top of it all. Feels like he drank an entire bottle of Triaanvi. So yes, all is quite well indeed.”

    Tense silence reigned for a few moments before Zuckuss spoke again. “You asked to speak with Zuckuss?”

    “Of course I did. Why should a father not wish to speak with his son?”

    Silently Zuckuss gnashed his inmost mandibles. Oh, perhaps if the father is the Guardian of Trynfor’s Vault and hates the fact that his son may be the Uncanny One? he thought to himself. “There is no reason at all that he would not,” he said at last instead.

    “Good. Then we agree.” There was more silence.

    “May Zuckuss at least ask what . . . brought you here, Father?”

    “I am beginning . . . a project, a hunt of sorts, perhaps. That is all I can say at present,” he added hurriedly in response to Zuckuss’s questioning clacks. “For now, though, I would like to . . . put a question to you, youngest.”

    “By all means, Father.”

    Fengor leaned closer to him and gestured to him to lean closer as well. Then he asked, in a strangely quiet, breathy voice:

    “Who was that with you, in the airspeeder in the mountains?”

    “Oh! That is—that is Viurraanvi, one of the junior apprentices,” Zuckuss stammered in reply.” “Findsmaster Volokoss . . . sent her along to assist Zuckuss.”

    “Hmm,” Fengor grunted. “A somewhat . . . irregular arrangement for a scouting mission, isn’t that?”

    “Two are far stronger than one in places like the mountains of R’Kalýma, Father.”

    “Perhaps. Did her Findsmaster agree to it?”

    “Yes . . . yes, he did.”

    “Who is her Findsmaster?”

    “Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd does not know,” Zuckuss lied. “But he is sure Findsmaster Volokoss would never have let him take her if—that is to say, he would not have agreed to the arrangement if—that is—”

    “Yes, yes, understood. Good. I suppose it doesn’t matter, really.” He shifted a bit and turned his head to the side, away from his son.

    “Father, if Zuckuss may ask . . . why are you so curious about her?”

    “Oh, for no good reason, really,” came Fengor’s half-muffled response; his head was still turned away. “It simply reminded me of something I have been . . . investigating. But it may be nothing at all. Fengor may be mistaken.”

    Zuckuss said nothing, but made note in his mind of his father’s reduced self-reference. It took much to cause Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd to demote himself from his first-person janwuine pronoun to—Mists forbid!—his name. Could he really be feeling some small pang of uncertainty (at best) or guilt (at worst)? And about what?

    But Zuckuss wished to take no chances. His intuition was prickling again. It simply was not usual for senior Findsmasters and Guardians of Trynfor’s Vault to be asking so many questions about junior apprentices who were not their own. At least now that he was confined to the healing wing, Fengor was in no condition to go seek out Telfien himself. How strange it was, Zuckuss reflected, how wrong it felt, to be thanking the providence of the Mists for his own father’s injury!

    He looked at Fengor. The elder Findsman’s eyes had begun to glaze over, and his nictitating membranes were starting to twitch closed—undoubtedly an effect of the tranquilizing serum.

    “Perhaps Zuckuss should leave you to rest for now, father,” he ventured.

    “Yes, why don’t you . . .” Fengor’s words were becoming more and more indistinct. “Befoggèd serum . . . perhaps tomorrow, hmm? Mists guide you, youngest.”

    “And likewise you, Father.” He leaned over to brush his antennae against Fengor’s in a brief, desultory gesture of affection, then rose and left.

    * * *

    That evening, shortly after the signal-chimes had sounded for the evening rest period, Telfien emerged from her meditation. The white moonbow orchid blooms brushed against her as she rose from her couch. She went over to her small writing desk to send a comm message, then left for the healing wing.

    All was dark there. Only one of the healers was scheduled to be on duty, and Telfien knew who it would be, since she had commed her moments before: Y’keb, who had helped her in her healing meditation the first time she had had the vision of Zuckuss’s silver-eyed ancestor. The tall, purplish-chitined healer stood waiting for Telfien in the waiting vestibule, and the two saluted each other as they met.

    “Come this way, please,” she whispered.

    She showed Telfien to the room where Fengor had been brought. He was unconscious or asleep—it was difficult to tell which—and swathed in dark blankets except for his injured leg, which was wrapped securely in healing tape and elevated on the foam pad. An old-model medical assistant droid with several retractable manipulator arms stood nearby at the ready.

    “How much longer will he be unconscious?” Telfien asked Y’keb, also in a whisper.

    “At least a few more hours.”

    Telfien came over closer to look at him. He no longer seemed so frightening now that he was asleep and helpless and at the mercy of the healers—for now those eyes of his were closed and no longer scrutinizing her. But she knew she would have to be careful all the same.

    “Healer Y’keb . . . may Telfien ask one favor?”

    “Yes?”

    “The droid . . .” She gestured toward it. “Would it be possible, just for now . . .”

    “By all means.” Y’keb walked over and tapped at some controls on the droid’s dome. Its arms retracted into its chassis as it powered down.

    “Many thanks.”

    “Is there anything else Y’keb may—Apprentice Telfien! What are you doing?”

    Telfien had begun, as gently and as gingerly as she could, to peel back the healing tape at the base of Fengor’s ankle. Beneath lay a suppurating jumble of dislodged chitin and infected flesh. The elder Findsman shifted a bit and let out a quiet grunt, but he did not awaken.

    “No harm will be done. Telfien promises in all solemnity.”

    “But what—”

    “No harm will be done.” Very carefully Telfien placed her hands over the infected area, applied gentle pressure, and closed her eyes. She remained in that position for several minutes, perfectly still except for the near-imperceptible motion of her mouthparts in what seemed to be silent prayer.

    A little longer, however—and her mandibles began to clench together, her antennae to bristle, and her shoulders to arch inward, as if she were in concentration, pain, or both. Fengor shifted and grunted again in his sleep; his extremities twitched.

    “Apprentice Telfien! What is wrong?!”

    Y’keb rushed over to Telfien, as if prompted by her own intuition. At the same time, Telfien crumpled backward into the healer’s arms.

    “Gand can no more . . .” she gasped. “Inner Mists all sapped . . . never tried it on a sentient before . . .”

    Quickly but gently Y’keb helped her to her feet and steadied her by her shoulders. “Are you all right, Apprentice Telfien? Do you need Y’keb to help you back to your quarters?”

    “No, kind thanks, she can manage—she’s just a bit tired—but, Healer Y’keb—”

    “Yes?”

    “Please, Telfien begs you . . . tell no one she has come here.”

    “Certainly, but why—”

    “Well—no one except perhaps Findsman Zuckuss. Yes, Findsman Zuckuss, but only if he asks . . . Thank you most kindly, Healer Y’keb, and may the Mists guide you . . .”

    “And likewise you, Apprentice Telfien,” replied Y’keb, though the Findswoman had already staggered out into the night-darkened corridor.

    Y’keb looked again at the patient. He was still unconscious, and the medical assistant droid was still deactivated; all the readings on the nearby monitoring console still looked the same as before, and perfectly normal.

    She came closer and examined the elevated ankle that Telfien had touched. All three of her mandible pairs snapped open at what she saw.

    The infection was gone, the bleeding had stopped, and the tarsal plates were all in their normal positions. Carefully she peeled back part of the healing tape surrounding the talar plates. She could have sworn by the Mists themselves that that hairline fracture had been twice as long earlier in the day . . .

    Had wispy, delicate little Apprentice Telfien done that somehow? Or was Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd simply more resilient than most?

    Those were the questions in her mind as she reactivated the assistant droid and left the room.

    ruetsa’iiv: Just by way of a reminder, this is my fanon singular of the established word ruetsavii.

    talar: A real-life word that means “having to do with the ankle,” though more likely to be found in a medical reference book than in a regular dictionary (it’s not in my copy of Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, and both my home and office copies of Microsoft Word consistently underline it in red).

    Triaanvi: One of the Madman’s Tears distilleries mentioned in chapter XII above. On Madman’s Tears, see my fanon post on Gand food and beverages.
     
  12. Cynical_Ben

    Cynical_Ben Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Aug 12, 2013
    Just happened to be awake in time to catch this as it was posted. A little late for long thoughts, but I will say that it's as good (and intriguing) as usual!
     
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  13. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thanks so much, Ben. I do appreciate your bearing with me and continuing to follow this. :)
     
  14. Kahara

    Kahara FFoF Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 3, 2001
    Okay, first a reply to a reply. :)


    That's really neat, I had not heard of tepui before. They sound a bit like a more dramatic version of the sky islands (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrean_Sky_Islands) that I'm more familiar with, only different. And I'd been wondering about how the whole surface/pocket colonies setup looked, so that helps me visualize too!

    On to the new chapter:

    One thing I noticed on this read-through is the way Zuckuss is shaken up by his father's presence and injuries. Some of it's due to worry about why he was there at all, but that doesn't seem to be the only emotional reaction. It's a good reminder of his age and of course makes the difficulty of that particular parent-child relationship more troubling. :( He does care about this cantankerous family member even though they've had many issues. I'm already so used to thinking of Fengor as the antagonist, but of course one has more complicated feelings about one's family. Of course, he's still making everyone nervous at the same time...


    [face_worried] Still unsettling, especially given how her reaction seems to be an instinctive panic every time Fengor's existence reminds her of that vision.


    It's interesting that Zuckuss picks up on this anxiety and the reason for it. Shows he's paying attention to what's going on in Telfien's training, and it's a nice contrast to some of his more egocentric moments. ;)


    :) The plant seems to be almost like a pet, in its way. It appears that Telfien's overall recuperation has affected it for the better, though I could be wrong and it's just a reflection of increased connectivity with the Mists. Not that those are exactly exclusive of one another. [face_thinking]

    Such a grouch! :p Liked the detail here and elsewhere on how these kinds of injuries work with insectoid biology (definitely made me go ouch :eek:), as well as the general sense of how medical treatment works. Not entirely different from human methods, but somewhat, and with the holistic approach that makes a lot of sense. Though I suppose the Findsmen may be more ritual-oriented about it than secular Gands.

    So much awkwardness in that father-son chat. Poor Zuckuss. Not only is his father normally unpleasant because of things that Zuckuss can't change, but now he has to go and break the pattern in a way that feels more false and erratic than anything else. o_O I'd imagine it takes a lot for Zuckuss to out and out lie to Fengor. That's some powerful unease.

    Think I already mentioned in beta notes that the healing Telfien performs here reminds me of her earlier extreme green thumb moments with plants. It's neat to see her further developing that talent. :) Though one gets the feeling that it may come back to bite her in a "no good deed goes unpunished" kind of way, I like that Telfien cares enough about a stranger's pain that she's willing to try. (I suspect there's also a bit of her wanting to test out her powers as well, though not so much in a showing off sort of way as wanting to better understand what's happening.) It was nice to see Y'keb again, and she is wonderful as always. Still waters seem to run very deep with her. :)
     
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  15. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    The more this story goes on, the more sweet, kind Telfien is starting to look like some warped, over-exaggerated version of Cassandra of Troy here. She sees things and while others do appear to be taking her seriously, which was not the case with actual Cassandra, everybody is hiding a different perception, a different version of the reality as it is, a different take on the inevitable future and, summa summarum, a different truth. And they're witholding that from her, which could probably cause her to doubt herself at some point.

    At the same time, this was beautiful:

    Now, for Fengor: even at his most broken, rapidly switching to third person for different reasons (and the latter reason was pretty serious), he's a typical grouch and his swearing is...very creative. :D


    This is one of the most interesting things in the story, by far. While the implication that Zuckuss could be that was there all along, the way this whole thing is set up is implying that he might be unable to stop himself from some kind of a destiny. And since the concept of destiny in Star Wars as whole is pretty complex, I am interested to see how this will be interpreted!

    Sorry for the super-late reply, by the way. [face_blush]
     
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  16. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thanks, as always, for reading and commenting, and for your loyalty in sticking with this thing as it drags on... and on... and on. :)

    Cool! I didn't know about the sky islands, and it's fantastic that they, unlike the Andean tepui, are right here in a part of the States I'm likely to visit at some point. "Sky island" is really a good description of how I imagine the Gand pocket colonies to behave, to.

    Oh, of course—family is family, even when there's tension (and even when there's lots of tension). Telfien, too, wasn't always treated the best at the hands of her parents, but their death struck her hard. In the case of Zuckuss and Fengor, another thing potentially adding to Zuckuss's unease is the feeling that his father's antipathy toward him will be heightened if he doesn't do something right away to help him.

    That vision really has stuck in her mind, perhaps because because her intuition is picking up on its potential importance. Though it could too be argued that she still has to learn to control her reactions to, well, things that remind her of visions, but I'd say that it wouldn't strike her so hard if she didn't sense that it was significant somehow... [face_thinking]

    Under his casual arrogance lurks a genuine concern and loyalty (see also Cynical_Ben 's comparison of him to Edward Elrich above), and as we've seen good things happen when that side of him is allowed to show itself. Besides, he can understand her feelings precisely because his father gets him nervous, too!

    They aren't, of course. ;) As for the plant, we're seeing here a healing process that began several chapters ago when it was a mass of drooping leaves hanging outside the glasshouse in her family's yard, and she first placed her hands on it. But its recovery is certainly emblematic of her own. Sure, she's got troubles of her own and is plagued by disconcerting visions, but now that she's here in this temple and under the care of Volokoss, Zuckuss, and Dean Luyen, she is cared for and nurtured in a way that will lead to her flourishing too.

    (I have to say that I was inspired here in part by a similar character-plant symbiosis that is at the heart of Nathaniel Hawthorne's story "Rappaccini's Daughter," though in that story the plants are poisonous, and the implications are much different.)

    The fact that Fengor's griping like that is a signal that he's really all right! :D I was a bit out of my death about injuries of this sort, and thus had to do a bit of research (some of which was in our very own Writer's Desk thread), but I'm glad to hear you found the results effective. I'd like to write up some formal fanon on Gand healers sometime (sometime...), but I imagine them as being somewhere between Findsmen and seculars: they have partial Findsman training, enough to know some of the main meditative techniques and to deploy those techniques in healing bodily wounds and diseases. And yes, there would certainly be a distinct ritual element to it, too, though I have yet to work out details.

    In a way, what Fengor's doing here could be considered a form of gaslighting, since it's kind of making Zuckuss doubt his previous experiences with his father's more usual cantankerousness. Being a perceptive sort, Zuckuss is perhaps picking up on that pattern here, which I think would only increase his unease. It does take a lot for him to outright lie to his father—and indeed, as you probably guessed, it's not just the unease of his present situation but also his genuine concern for Telfien that's leading him to do so. It will have consequences later...

    You are indeed right to be reminded of those green-thumb moments (and see above about the plant). ;) As to whether it will come back to bite her, well, I would say both " [face_whistling] " and very likely so. But her motivation, as you point out, is absolutely sincere—she is naturally a caring, compassionate sort and wants to use her powers for good whenever she can. (And yes, that is not at all at odds with her wanting to learn more about her own powers; she has an inkling here that those powers may be used for good, and wants to test it out.)

    I'm glad you like Y'keb; so do I. :) She, just as much as Telfien's various teachers, is watching Telfien closely and "pondering all these words in her heart." And it's nice for Telfien to have a female friend and ally not too far from her own age.

    Part of this is closely related to Kahara's point about Telfien's kindness "coming back to bite her," in kind of more intense form, and also to your comparison of her ito Pandora's box in an earlier comment to Pandora's box. There are secrets about her and her visions that she doesn't yet know; that's scary for her, of course, and when Zuckuss and Volokoss listen and take her seriously it's because they know it's scary for her. But with your point about the hidden perceptions being withheld, you hit on a way that she's different from Pandora's box, too. Those secrets she doesn't yet know about herself and her visions? Others might know them—and who knows what knowledge might lead to. (I bet you can guess who the most likely candidate(s) are/is!) [face_nail_biting]

    On top of it all, Telfien's unease may be increasing precisely because she's starting to sense this disconnect and this withholding. Which of course is similar to what I said about Zuckuss earlier, but hey, why not, since they're basically counterparts? :D

    And I may indeed have had Cassandra on the brain, because one of my recent projects at work involved an early 18th-century cantata centering on her and narrated from her point of view. :D

    Thanks so much. :) Besides just the fact that it was yet another excuse for me to indulge in lush, colorful descriptions ( :D ), I figured Telfien too, with all that's on her mind, needed a moment to feel the comfort that comes from contemplating something beautiful. Her spirits are being refreshed in that moment, just as the plant is. (And see my responses to Kahara above on Telfien's relationship to the plant.)

    Brownie points to you for picking up on that change of self-reference, though I 'm not surprised, because I know what a perceptive reader you are. :) I'll say that I've done my best in this story to assiduously follow the established rules about Gand self-reference conventions as I understand them, and that anytime you see a character switching from his or her usual self reference, it's for a good reason. In this case, Fengor might have had an unaccustomed twinge of conscience—or some such.

    And again, the fact that Fengor's quickly back to griping and grumbling and swearing, despite feeling drowsy and woozy, shows that he's really not that badly off! :D

    And the thing is, of course, Zuckuss might not want to stop himself from that kind of destiny, especially if it means finally getting the upper hand on his father? He kind of views the Uncanny One business at this point as a done deal, one with which his father will just have to... deal. But whatever certainty he may have about his destiny as the Uncanny One is perhaps being tempered by the uncertainty of his current situation, since his father's apparent interest in just "sitting and talking" is so weirdly uncharacteristic. (See Kahara's point above about the "false and erratic" nature of the situation, and mine about gaslighting.)

    Oh, not to worry at all—I know you for a loyal reader. :) I'm sorry to be super late in getting this thing written and updated properly, which I promise I'll try to set right soon! I'm going to see if I can't get back into a better pattern with writing and posting this story in December.
     
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  17. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    And here, at last, is a new chapter. It's actually been done for near on a couple of months now, but various RL responsibilities and deadlines have caused me to sit on it for a while. This one turned out a little on the long side (at least for me). Thanks again to Kahara for being a wonderful and supportive beta. @};-

    Tags: Kahara, Cynical_Ben, K'Tai qel Letta-Tanku



    Chapter XIX

    Close to dawn, as Te’el-Viire-Gand had begun to cast ribbons of golden light over the sleepy mountain mists, the apprentices of the Lhúdanswani temple gathered in the central chapel for the morning devotion. The incense lamps were all lit, and their jewel-like colors played on the silvery vapors that were just beginning to seep from the mist-vents in the wall. The customary chanting began, led by a group of apprentices gathered around a pair of bookstands in the chanters’ alcove off to one side; voices twined about voices in misty, mystical harmony. But one light, clear male voice shimmered above the others—for today Zuckuss Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd was among the chanters.

    During the chanting, the Findsmasters of the temple entered in solemn procession. Findslady Luyen Dzi’kel, as dean of the temple, typically came last, bearing the ceremonial rod of her office. But today her hands were empty—and clicks of surprise arose from the assembly as Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd entered after her, bearing the dean’s rod and limping very slightly. Two healers escorted him on either side.

    He took his place, as did the other masters. The service continued in the usual manner, with the traditional chants, prayers, and meditative silences. Voices, incense, and mists rose together and intertwined in the in-filtering ruddy dawn-light. But curiosity, too, was rising like the mists: was not Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor supposed to have been injured and confined to the healing wing? Could it truly be that he was healed and walking already? And if so, how in the Mists’ name had it happened? But ceremonial decorum ensured that these questions remained unspoken.

    At last the Findsmasters began their recession from the chapel, and again Fengor and his escorting healers went last. As soon as the Findsmaster-Guardian reached the doorway, he tapped the rod four times on the stone wall in the pattern long-short-long-short—the signal for the apprentices to range themselves for inspection. Here, too, sounds of surprise percolated through the room, for such inspections were typically only conducted at the evening devotions. But it must be done: the signal had been given by none other than the chief of the Council of Findsmasters and hereditary Guardian of Trynfor’s Vault, who by the will of the Sacred Visionary Mists was now honoring this humble mountaintop temple with his presence.

    One by one Fengor made his way down the row of apprentices. To each—his son included—he gave a cursory head-to-foot glance, then tapped his claws on the dean’s rod in the customary signal of approval. He spoke not a word to any of them. But once he reached the last and youngest of them all—the little golden-eyed maiden with the green scarf that peeked out from the neckline of her robes—he lingered. With a gaze of piercing silver he studied the small being before him, always returning to her eyes. She, for her part, glanced nervously up at him and back downward again, perhaps also thinking: Those eyes!

    “Look up,” he said at last, very softly. She did so. “Which colony are you from, young one?”

    “N’xid, Your Mystical Honor.”

    “Hmmm. As I thought.” And with that he tapped the rod against his hand and limped on toward the chapel doorway, where he struck the rod against the door-gong to dismiss the assembly. As the apprentices and Findsmasters began to mill, he went over to a few of the other Masters and began to converse with them; after a few moments Luyen joined them as well. The two healers remained patiently nearby, standing ready against the wall by the door.

    * * *

    Telfien exhaled in relief as the signal for dismissal was given. She had never felt so nervous during an inspection before. It was stressful enough that the inspection had been unannounced, and that the one conducting it was the silver-eyed stranger who had triggered her disturbing visions in the mountains. But this time he had been standing closer to her than ever, scrutinizing her once again in that strange way—and why was he also asking her about her home colony? That seemed most unusual. Had he somehow learned of her visit to his healing-wing room in the night? Not likely; Y’keb gave no indication of being anything but trustworthy.

    Nor was she sure if anyone else had heard the incense lamp on the wall behind her rattling quietly but ominously during the inspection. Fortunately, nothing had happened, since she was more secure in her intuitive control now. But it had been close.

    She found herself seeking out Zuckuss, who was busy extinguishing the incense lamps in the chanter’s alcove.

    “Greetings and blessings of the Mists, Telfien,” he said as he saw her, saluting.

    “Greetings and blessings of the Mists to you, Findsman Zuckuss.” She returned the gesture. “Telfien enjoyed your chanting this morning.”

    “Thank you, Telfien.” Zuckuss gave a few contented clicks. “And Zuckuss seems to remember that he heard a particularly sweet voice from among the apprentices this morning . . . perhaps after your First Evaluation you will be among the chanters yourself.”

    “You’re very kind, Findsman Zuckuss.” Telfien clicked as well, even as she turned her eyes coyly to one side. “Telfien is glad your father is doing better.”

    “Yes, it’s a relief indeed. But it is strange that it happened so quickly. A plate dislocation as bad as that usually takes much longer to heal. The same with the tissue infection.” He extinguished the last lamp and began to straighten the benches and the bookstands. “It is certainly a tribute the skill of this temple’s healers.”

    “Yes, indeed, Findsman Zuckuss.” She paused, eyes downward. Did she dare tell him what she had done the night before? Or should she not, since she was still only halfway sure Fengor’s improvement had really been due to anything she had done or tried to do? She changed the subject.

    “May Telfien ask you something?”

    “Certainly.” Zuckuss was now busy stowing the chant books that had been sitting on the bookstands.

    “Do you know if it is . . . usual for a Findsmaster to ask an apprentice what colony she is from during inspection?”

    Zuckuss looked over at his father. Fengor was now fumbling in his pocket for something—perhaps a datapad or comlink—while gesturing to his interlocutors to excuse him for a moment. “It is the prerogative of the Findsmaster conducting the inspection to ask the apprentices any question he wishes,” he said to Telfien.

    “Yes, of course, Findsman Zuckuss—but—well, it is only that Telfien has never been asked such a thing at inspection, and Findslady Luyen would never ask such a thing anyway, because she already knows, and—”

    “Well, remember that Zuckuss’s mother was one of your ruestavii in N’xid. She probably told him about it, and he may simply be wondering if you are the same—” He stopped short and glanced toward his father again, who was standing in a nearby corner reading his datapad with his antennae and palps curled in thought. After a few moments he approached Volokoss, with whom he exchanged a few words; Zuckuss thought he had even seen Fengor show Volokoss the datapad he had just read. He was not sure why that sight should cause negative intuition to flicker within him, but it did.

    “Findsman Zuckuss? Is everything all right?”

    “Yes, yes, Telfien, apologies . . .” Zuckuss quickly stowed the last of the books, then leaned closer to Telfien and spoke in a whisper. “You are right, it is not usual at all. If you are concerned about it, you could speak to—”

    His words were drowned suddenly in a rattling metallic clangor that was answered by a similar pattern of sounds on the temple’s signal-chimes. Presently the ringing gave way the sound of a booming voice:

    “Masters and Apprentices of the Lhúdanswani.”

    It was Fengor who had spoken, and who had rattled the dean’s rod against the door-gong to signify an emergency reassembly—a gesture that automatically triggered the corresponding signal from the chimes. Those apprentices who had already left hurried back hurried back at the sound. Everyone assumed an attitude of attention as the Findsmster-Guardian began to speak.

    “An urgent message has come to me from the Elders of the Great Temple. Disaster has befallen. The Terrestrial Mists that rise from the Surface of Gand to surround the Temple have been thinning.”

    Clicks, clacks, and anxious murmurs arose from those assembled. “I must return immediately to the Great Temple to aid the Elders and Councils,” Fengor went on. “In the meantime I humbly ask of you of this temple—the temple of my own apprenticeship—that you join your intuitive efforts to theirs, in hopes that the cause of this calamity might be revealed. For the Surface guards its secrets more fiercely than do even the stars.”

    More murmurs arose. Telfien turned to Zuckuss and began to whisper something, but he silenced her with a gesture.

    “And thus I extend humblest thanks to this my old temple for its hospitality, and particularly to the healers for all they have done. To the Sacred Visionary Mists I commend you. May They show you the way.”

    He struck the gong again to dismiss the assembly. The Findsmasters and apprentices began to file out, and Fengor returned the dean’s rod to Luyen as she passed, and the two exchanged salutes. Telfien ducked behind Zuckuss as the two of them approached the doorway, trying to avoid Fengor’s gaze, though this time he seemed not to notice her. This time his attention was fixed on his son, whom he drew aside.

    “Come, walk with me, youngest.”

    * * *

    For several moments father and son walked in silence, with the two healers following at a respectful distance. They passed several other apprentices, many of whom were murmuring to each other in worried tones about the news they had just heard about the Great Temple. A few were even clustered around a datapad, mandibles splayed in horror and astonishment. Zuckuss leaned over to look as he passed and had to pull his eyes away from the image that assailed his eye-facets—a flat, mistless white sky surrounding the temple’s eastern wing. He was almost relieved when he and his father turned down one of the quieter corridors, away from the other apprentices.

    “I shall be brief, young one,” Fengor began at length. “I have a mission for you.”

    “A mission?” Zuckuss felt again that same flicker of wary intuition, and initiated a low-level Stillness of the Fog to try to stifle it.

    “Yes. It is you who shall journey to the Surface of Gand to restore the Terrestrial Mists to the Great Temple.”

    “The Surface?! But Father—”

    “There is no other way. I did not wish to say it in the public assembly, but the meditative efforts of the Elders and Council are near exhausted. There is no more they can do. They have agreed that someone young and strong, with a strong intuition, needs to go to the Surface below the Temple Colony and investigate directly. And your name was of course the first to be mentioned.”

    “But Father! Isn’t that the part of Surface where not even the miners will go for fear of the magnetic storms and poisonous oxygen clouds and the white-hot rocks and the giant trs’kuak lurking in the—”

    “I see you have been keeping up with your readings of Trynfor and Zuika,” clicked Fengor. “Yes, of course all of that is true.”

    “Then why not send a more experienced Findsman, someone who has completed the years of apprenticeship?” he asked. “It seems too much to ask of a mere apprentice.”

    “Ah, but my youngest, my Zuckuss!” With this word Fengor’s voice softened to a sly near-whisper, and he leaned close to his son. “You are no mere apprentice. You are one of the most gifted apprentices the Lhúdanswani have ever known. And—above all—you are the Uncanny One!

    Zuckuss lowered his face, unsure of how to react to these words. Fengor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd had never so much as acknowledged his younger son’s intuitive talents before, much less expressed any kind of admiration for them—and he had always gone out of his way to avoid the subject of the Uncanny One all costs. Yet he had just now lavished praise upon that same younger son, addressed him by his given name—his higher name—for the first time since he had earned it, and acknowledged him as the Uncanny One—all in virtually the same breath. It all seemed wrong somehow, and it set the negative intuition in the back of his mind vibrating with renewed intensity. He ground his mandibles together in concentration, reinforcing his Stillness of the Fog.

    Well, youngest?”

    Zuckuss stopped suddenly as his father stopped; the healers stopped behind them. “Wh-what is it, Father?”

    “Why so silent, hmm? Do you doubt my faith in you?”

    “No, no, Father—not at all—you honor Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd with your confidence in him—he only hopes he will be able to—”

    “Do you accept this mission?”

    “Ng’xvi-Ta’al-Lhúd supposes so,” Zuckuss answered in an undertone; not as though he has any choice in the matter, he thought to himself. “Though first he probably should seek permission from Findmaster Volokoss.”

    “Ah, dear Volokoss Ratokk!” clattered Fengor in a burst of sardonic amusement. “When I spoke to him, he offered no objection to the plan. But he insisted on accompanying you and monitoring you continually by comlink. So I suppose he will have to be obliged, the worried old gryckle-cock.”

    As should any conscientious Findsmaster when his student is being sent to one of the most dangerous locations on all of Gand, Zuckuss thought, but did not voice his thoughts beyond a brief “Thank you, Father.”

    By now they had reached the healing wing. One of the healers came forward and said something to Fengor in an undertone. Fengor grunted his assent; both healers helped him into a chair, then proceeded into one of the back rooms.

    “Now if you will excuse me, my youngest. I am told it is time for my healing tape to be changed. Really, it is nothing short of miraculous that I need no more than a little healing tape after crashing in the Thuu Edrei.”

    Zuckuss was relieved at the change of topic. “It gladdens Zuckuss to see you recovering so quickly, Father,” he said.

    “Rather astonishing, is it not? It is almost as though Isthien the Sacred Healer had placed her sacred hand upon my wounds. I wonder if the poor battered old Byblos ThreeCeeTee will be as fortunate . . . befoggèd rattletrap will probably have to be scrapped now . . . ah, but anything is possible, isn’t it”—he took his son by the shoulders and leaned directly into his face—“in these days of the Uncanny One?

    Before Zuckuss could reply the two healers returned. Immediately Fengor let go of his son and hobbled over to take their proffered arms. “But never mind all this. We shall talk further, my youngest.”

    “Yes, Father.”

    “May the Mists guide you on your mission.”

    “Thank you, and likewise, Father,” Zuckuss replied, then saluted and left.

    * * *

    Much later in the day, Telfien was making her way through the temple halls. She had heard from Zuckuss and Volokoss about the mission Zuckuss would soon be taking to the Surface of Gand, to investigate the thinning of the Mists around the Great Temple. Since then she had occupied her spare time by reading everything she could about the Surface. After exhausting her routinely assigned texts—the Book of Light, the Mirror of the Mist-Born Light, Trynfor’s chronicles—she had gone to the library to read more. Now she was on her way back to her room for the evening rest period.

    The temple armory lay along her route. Prompted by an intuition, a fancy, plain curiosity, or all of those things, Telfien peeked in as she passed.

    Only one other Gand was there, going from one storage locker to another, one bunker to another. She looked more closely—it was Zuckuss, no doubt collecting equipment and weaponry for his imminent mission. He already carried several items under his arm, including a tangle of straps, tanks, and tubes that seemed to be respiratory gear. As he went he sang softly to himself, and his song echoed gently on the stone and metal around him.

    “Peerless hunter, zaviir most resplendent,
    See before you this your wretched quarry
    Felled and vanquished by your fearsome beauty,
    By one facet of your gemlike glory . . .”

    Telfien thought about calling out to him and greeting him but decided against it, if only to avoid interrupting his sweet singing. Instead she stood silently and watched him from her distant vantage point. Beside the largest of the metal locker doors was a lock panel; he entered a code on it, and it slid open to reveal a bank of reinforced, drawerlike compartments. He took a snare rifle from one, a clip-pointed vibroblade from another, and two concussion grenades from yet another, still singing:

    “Strike and wound and heal, O fierce beloved!
    Clap this heart in binders; then it shall be free . . .”

    Finally, his arms full, he made his way toward a squat security droid in one corner. He began holding out the objects one by one for the droid to scan with its sensor arm. At last the sensor arm angled upward to scan his eyes; for a few moments their silver facets reflected its light in a thousand prismatic blazes.

    Telfien took this as her cue to slip away. She ducked into a nearby side corridor, froze against the wall, and did not budge until both Zuckuss’s footsteps and his soft song disappeared down the central hallway:

    Clap this heart in binders; then it shall be free . . .”

    Only once he was out of sight and hearing did she emerge and continue back toward the apprentices’ quarters.

    After few moments she became aware of footsteps behind her. With a little trepidation she turned to investigate: had Zuckuss noticed her after all? But it was not Zuckuss; it was Findslady-Dean Luyen Dzi’kel, who had noticed her as well and was now approaching with brisk but dignified steps. The Findslady gave Telfien the customary cupped-hand salute and a friendly click as she came alongside her.

    “Apprentice Telfien! The Mists give you good evening, sweet one.”

    Telfien returned the gesture, bowing her head at the same time. “And likewise to you, Findslady Luyen.”

    “Are your studies going well?”

    “Yes, Findslady Luyen.”

    “And the subapprentice arrangement with Senior Apprentice Zuckuss—?”

    “Oh yes, indeed it is, very much so, Findslady Luyen—that is to say, yes, Findslady Luyen.”

    “That is good to hear. Luyen has only heard the most favorable things from Finsdmaster Volokoss about your progress. Indeed, word also seems to have reached Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor. He too has been expressing quite an interest in you.”

    “Oh!” Telfien’s exoskeleton clacked as she started. “H-has he?”

    “Yes. He will be leaving the temple tomorrow—Luyen is going to him now in order to discuss arrangements. But he has asked about the possibility of meeting you before he leaves . . . is something wrong, Apprentice Telfien?”

    “Findslady Luyen—” Telfien could say no more; she felt both herself and her intuition trembling, and she knew the Findslady-Dean could sense it.

    “Luyen does not blame you if you find him a bit . . . intimidating. He has always been so, from the time he was an apprentice at this temple. Is it something you wish to talk about?”

    “It would not be right for Viurraanvi to delay you, Findslady Luyen—”

    “The well-being of this temple’s students takes precedence over a thousand visiting Findsmaster-Guardians. Come and sit with Luyen a moment and tell her.”

    They had reached a junction in the hallway, near a window that looked out onto the neighboring hills, now cocooned with purple and silver evening mists and illumined by a few tiny gemlike stars. There was a bench there; Luyen sat and beckoned Telfien to do the same. She listened attentively as Telfien told her of her vision during the scouting mission to the Thuu Edrei, of how her intuition had bristled when she turned to look at Fengor in the speeder, and of the chapel inspection that very morning, when Fengor had studied her so closely and asked of her home colony.

    “Luyen is glad you told her of this,” she replied at last. “It seems Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor is interested in more than just your progress in the Sacred Trade. Why the Mists should be warning you against him, Dzi’kel does not know, but it is unwise to ignore Their warnings. She will keep all this in mind when she speaks to him tonight.”

    “Thank you so graciously, Findslady Luyen, for your kindness.”

    “It is nothing, sweet one. Now you go and rest, and heed the Mists. They will safeguard you.”

    “Yes, Findslady Luyen, and likewise you.”

    Luyen continued down one hallway in the direction of the healing wing. Telfien sat for a moment, thinking, then rose and followed her at a distance.

    Eventually the healing wing came into view. One of the healers—it might even have been Y’keb—came out to meet Luyen as she approached. They conferred briefly, then the healer led Luyen into the inner room where Fengor was staying.

    Telfien waited for several moments before cautiously making her way into the healing wing. The main area was empty; probably the healer had simply gone about other business. As stealthily as she could, she approached the door that she remembered belonged to Fengor’s room. She heard voices within—Luyen’s and Fengor’s voices—and leaned against the door to listen more closely.

    First they engaged in desultory conversation about Fengor’s health: the infection was healed, the plate fracture was nearly healed, and it was merely a matter of rest and basic care measures for a few more days. Then Luyen offered to order a repair crew to attend to the remains of the battered Byblos ThreeCeeTee stranded at the bottom of the Thuu Edrei, and they discussed the matter of Fengor’s transportation back to the Temple Colony. Luyen mentioned that a shuttle could be arranged at about the midday hour, toward the end of the morning study period, to which Fengor responded with:

    “Well and good, but that will leave me no time to renew my acquaintance with your little golden-eyed apprentice from N’xid.”

    Telfien shuddered. Was he speaking of her? He had to be—no one else in the temple fit that description. But what a strange way for a high-ranking Findsmaster to refer to a junior apprentice . . .

    “Luyen is regretful,” came the Findslady’s reply. “It may be possible to arrange for a short meeting after the morning devotion, though Luyen cannot guarantee—”

    “Well, please find some way of guaranteeing it, Dzi’kel.” The ice of the Thuu Edrei seemed to be in his voice. “She is the whole object of my visit to this temple and I shall not leave here without seeing her.”

    These words filled Telfien with sudden, primal dread. First, Fengor had just addressed Findslady Luyen—Findslady-Dean Luyen—by her surname alone, his anger diminishing her identity. Second—had this father of Zuckuss’s, with those angry ancestral silver eyes that had haunted her visions so many times, come all the way to the Lhúdanswani temple just to see her? Not his son, not any of the other Findsmasters, but her? So her intuition had been correct: he was Hunting her. Her mandibles chattered and clattered with fear against her will; to quiet them she ground them together to the point of pain.

    “Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor, if Luyen may be so bold as to ask—why is it so important that you meet this one little junior apprentice? Otila certainly must have spoken of her after her observation, but—”

    “That is my affair and not yours, Dzi’kel.” Again the surname, the diminished name. “The secrets of the Guardian are not for you to—What is that noise?!

    Was it too late? Had he heard her chattering with fear? But no, there was another sound now: a low rattling sound on the other side of the door, as if of a piece of ceramic, perhaps a bowl or a cup somewhere inside the room . . .

    Telfien realized to her absolute horror what was happening. Her fear was sapping her intuitive control, and if she weren’t careful—

    “It appears to be your djelatha cup, Findsmaster-Guardian Fengor,” came Luyen’s matter-of-fact voice.

    “I know it’s my djelatha cup, Dzi’kel! What in the name of the Holy Madman’s heel-claws is going on here?!” By now Fengor was shouting. “And now the pot! Fog, blood, sputum, and—

    Telfien did not stay to hear any more; it simply would be too risky. She ran as fast as she could out of the healing wing and through the temple hallways, not stopping until she reached the window where she had sat with Luyen only a little earlier. There she crumpled onto the bench, engaged Stillness of the Fog to calm her nerves, and reflected for a bit.

    She did not know if that djelatha cup or that djelatha pot had actually escaped breakage. She did not know whether the proposed meeting between her and Fengor had actually been finalized; it probably had been. Nor did she know what more Luyen might tell Fengor about her, her studies, or her subapprentice arrangement with Zuckuss. But she did have a plan.

    She rose and made straightaway for the armory.

    I imagine Zuckuss’s singing voice to be essentially that of an haute-contre, a fairly rare kind of very high tenor. An example can be heard in this video, where the highest of the three singers, Rodrigo del Pozo, has this voice type (note his solos at about 1:30–2:21 and 7:26–8:15).

    trs’kuak: Plural of trs’kak (see my fanon post on Gand flora and fauna).


    gryckle-cock: See my fanon post on Gand flora and fauna. The gryckle-hen is mentioned in chapter VII.

    Byblos ThreeCeeTee: Byblos Drive Yards is canon, but this particular model is my own creation. It is named for the Plymouth TC3, which was one of my family’s cars when I was growing up.

    clip-pointed: A real-life term used to describe the shape of blade of the Bowie knife; see here. I first learned of the term in the JCF Fanfic Writer’s Desk, in the conversation that begins about here.
     
  18. earlybird-obi-wan

    earlybird-obi-wan Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 21, 2006
    caught up again on your great story
     
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  19. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    Oh, boy. Oh, boy! As it usually appears to be the case with your chapters, this started out so slow and, just like last time, I was like "there's no way that anything is going to happen here" and then it got craaaaazy, all spinning around and stuff. Awesome chapter! =D= Not to mention that I will be very angry if you don't give us chapter XX very very soon, because YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE US LIKE THIS.

    I can totally see how real life inspired the ceremony at the very beginning and how this day might have been an important one for Zuckuss. And I won't even begin to meditate on the possibilities of his voice sticking out BECAUSE Fengor is present, as I could do it for the next couple of days and, err, I definitely have a lot more to do. And once again, I can see the vocal similarity between our "magic boys". Not to mention that high tenors in attractive, troubled mystics are attractive in the first place. [face_love]

    I can also see what Telfien has done here, from the very first paragraph. And just somewhere near the end of the first part, I'm almost certain that Fengor is aware that she had healed him. The only question that remains here, at least to me because if there are any religious implications here I don't get them, is why she did it.

    In a way, it looked like Fengor was telling the students that he's watching them, it was almost like his signals were some secret Morse code, a cry for help. Those taps were particularly interesting.

    Telfien and Zuckuss' conversation was so awkward-cute. Those compliments are kind of...ridiculous in an adorable way, and then, boom, she drops the bomb and asks the question that makes him realise something. It's so obvious that the differences in their nature and her quest to heal and save, as opposed to what appears to be his quest for the ultimate truth will always stand in the way, regardless of how deeper their relationship may get over the time - if it does, that is.

    “An urgent message has come to me from the Elders of the Great Temple. Disaster has befallen. The Terrestrial Mists that rise from the Surface of Gand to surround the Temple have been thinning.”

    So, we are very close to the events of Between The Porch and the Altar. Gulp!

    And theeeeeeeeeeeere goes the other bomb. And I can finally say what's been evident from my first research on Zuckuss, that I knew that he had been the Uncanny One from his bio on Wook, all along. But his father's sudden recognition of his abilities goes hand in hand with possibly sending him to death.

    The scene with Zuckuss and Telfien, where he's singing that beautiful song in an overly religions tone, for some reason makes me wonder if he's got something completely different on his mind - some kind of a crazed, homocide plan? Those don't look like the kind of weapons you take to the surface of a gas giant! Those look like weapons of mass destruction!

    I must admit it was feeling slightly uneasy when I saw Telfien head to the armory at the end of the story. Then again, the whole conversation between Fengor and Luyen was smoke and mirrors. I can see that Fengor is breaking many rules here, but is Luyen...trying to protect Telfien for him? And holy mists, did Fengor send Zuckuss on a dangerous mission, so he would deal with Telfien for whatever reason?

    Aaaargh, I want more. More. More. More. Please. This is where it gets truly exciting!

    EDIT: Had to download the video with Keepvid as YouTube didn't allow me to watch it and I enjoyed it greatly. Especially the voice you told us to pay attention to. [face_love] Please, more of that, too.
     
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  20. Cynical_Ben

    Cynical_Ben Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Aug 12, 2013
    Finally got caught up and read up on the latest chapter. Very tense and exciting, Telfien and Fengor with Zuckuss caught between them, naturally Fengor would want his son out of the way so he could investigate the little golden-eye girl. And the cliffhanger... I look forward as always to the next installment. :)
     
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  21. Kahara

    Kahara FFoF Hostess Extraordinaire star 4 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 3, 2001
    Sorry for being so late with commenting here!

    This beginning scene is really beautiful; I really like how this time it's not just the mists/landscape/architecture that make this a magical spectacle. It's also due to the way that the Gand have developed religious practices that fit organically into that environment, ones that interact with and enhance it. I remember you mentioned something once about how an organ could be like the voice of an old building; though I'm not sure what built-in musical instruments they might have or not, the Lhúdanswani temple definitely feels like the sort of place that was designed to sing! @};-

    Speaking of singing, it's neat that we get to see more of this side of Zuckuss's (and Telfien's) character in this chapter. It's neat to discover that he has such a talent for and love of music, when past events have mostly focused on the whole Uncanny One thing and his Force talents. Those are the things that make for the big storyline, of course. ;) But it makes for an interesting counterbalance in an otherwise super-driven personality. Music here does not seem to be a competitive exercise, though he does probably take some justifiable pride in being good at it. It seems to be one thing that Zuckuss excels in just for the joy of it. :)

    Despite the unease of Fengor's... everything, it's kind of amusing how much of a small town Lhúdanswani is here. A very polite and reserved small town that wouldn't go so far as to gossip noisily, but there's definitely an "everybody knows (as much as they feel polite acknowledging of) everybody's business" thing in effect. ;) Which makes perfect sense, given the way things work there; it's a big complex but not that big, and while they're not extremely isolated from the surrounding community I'm guessing that most of one's daily contacts are in the temple. So the comings and goings of someone like Fengor must be intriguing at least.

    Like I think I mentioned in reading ages ago, this is one of my favorite moments. It's so vivid, and I like how it echoes the significance that eyes have had in relation to both of their characters; they recognize each other, not having really formally met. It's bound to be a game changer in some way, which makes me very nervous on Telfien's behalf. As do her frequent visions about silver eyes and how much they distress her! And the fact that she's almost certainly busted on having helped to heal his ankle. (While I too trust Y'keb, it seems likely that he may not have been that deeply asleep, or perceived something while unconscious through the Force.) Fengor isn't exactly winning prizes for making reasonable life choices at this point and I worry for the safety of anyone he thinks he can manipulate to his advantage in some way. [face_worried]

    It's been hinted for a while, but is there ever a lot of flirting here! ;) These two are not even remotely subtle any more. Or at least not to anyone but each other, perhaps. I really like that they have an interest in music in general and singing in particular as a factor in common. It's good that there's some common ground that isn't wrapped up in their training relationship, even though that is pretty heavily supervised and so on. Nice that we also see them both beginning to be a bit more communicative -- with Zuckuss sharing his concerns about his father's oddly speedy recovery and Telfien asking about Fengor's odd behavior at the inspection. Though Zuckuss is kind of half-listening at this point, it does seem that he's concerned enough that it makes him look twice at what's going on both here and later. Also enough that he does start to say something to her about it... before being distracted again. :p


    Well, that can't be good. :eek: I recall that this is a separate incident from the later one with the Empire, but it almost seems like a warning of sorts. One that neither Telfien nor anyone else will understand, since it's not as though there's an instruction book with these things, and it's sort of in the nature of disaster omens to be unfathomable.

    Fengor is very quick to make this disturbing phenomenon useful, of course. The way he gives this Very Noble Job to Zuckuss is disconcerting even to someone with his son's usual level of arrogance. Zuckuss knows something is up there. I'll be very interested to see what is going on with the Mists, and what Fengor knows about it -- if anything. At least Volokoss is insisting on some level of backup, though how much that will help is unknown. (Another great Fengor expression, "worried old gryckle-cock". [face_laugh])

    Ack. So creepy, Fengor. So. Creepy.

    Really nifty song, which I seem to remember relates back to something earlier in the story. :D And there's also the combination of the haunting love song/battle song with Zuckuss himself gearing up for this next mission.

    Luyen is presented with quite the conundrum here, not knowing exactly what's going on with her student or with Fengor's seeming obsession, and I'm glad she takes Telfien's danger sense seriously. I think we see that affect her later conversation with Fengor, and I hope that her knowing something is weird (if not how or why) will provide the younglings with some backup in addition to Volokoss. They probably need all the allies they can get, whatever this is!

    Telfien's poltergeist effect is accidentally a bit of an edge here, or so it seems, since it encourages her to get away before anyone notices. (Also, Fengor's exasperation and confusion are hilarious since they come with the usual explosion of unique profanity. [face_laugh] Not used to teapots with a mind of their own apparently!)
     
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  22. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thanks, everyone, for the comments, and best holiday wishes to you all! @};-

    Thank you so much, earlybird. I’m glad you’re enjoying it and it’s wonderful to have you here! :)

    Well, thanks. :) I hope you’re not too angry, because I know I’ve done a lousy job of getting chapter 20 in a timely manner, given that it's more than a month since I posted 19. But there will be more—you know there will! And if you think things now are crazy and spinning around, well, they’re only going to get more so down the line. The biggest storms are often preceded by the calmest calm...

    The ceremony at the beginning is a completely routine event at the temple of the Lhúdanswani Findsmen—they do this every morning and evening, the way some colleges with a religious affiliation have chapel every morning and evening, and it is indeed inspired by various RL religious services. The idea was that the students chosen to do the chanting rotate on a schedule, but it's not inconceivable that they would specifically place Zuckuss in this role the day that his father just happens to be a guest (accidental or otherwise) at the temple.

    And I second you about high male voices. :) I had a friend in choir in college with whom I was discussing this sort of thing, and when I mentioned my preference for high male voices, she said that she found bass voices sexier. At that time, of course, being a young college student with self-confidence issues, I of course started questioning my own preferences and feeling that I was somehow wrong for liking what I liked, even though that’s not what she had been trying to say at all—but now I’m more confident about it. A good bass is wonderful to listen to too, of course, but they just don’t jump out at me the same way as that haute-contre sound does.

    And now to go briefly out of order to address a few related points together (which I am going to do a lot of in this post):

    The question of whether or not Fengor knows that Telfien healed him is one that I've kind of tried to leave ambiguous, and one question of course is, what would that knowledge mean to him? The comment about Isthien the Sacred Healer (a name you may have seen elsewhere) could be taken to mean that he at least suspects something like that has taken place, and even just knowing that much might count for at least something to him. And since this is Fengor, there is every reason to be worried, even for those who do good by him!

    As to why she did it—there's no ulterior motive besides wanting to help a fellow being in distress. She is a kind-hearted person who would do the same for anyone. Though her motivation was almost certainly increased by (1) the fact that that the wounded Gand was Zuckuss's father, and (2) by seeing how deeply Zuckuss was affected by it all in the previous chapter.

    They were mainly just intended to be signals for getting the attention of those assembled, and they're nothing the students would not have heard previously from their dean (i.e., Luyen) at previous services and assemblies. Since Fengor outranks Luyen, he is temporarily taking over her position of authority, at least for the time the temple is hosting him.

    Oh, no bones about it—they definitely are flirting as much as their culture’s conventions allow, and yes, it’s meant to be both a little awkward and a little adorable. :D They are gradually getting more and more secure around each other and more willing to share with each other what’s on their minds, whether it’s directly related to their training or not. It could be argued, of course, that it’s a bit one-sided and that Telfien is seeking out Zuckuss more than the other way around, but you’re right to point that he does open up to her about his own concerns too, to a certain extent, and as he states in chapter 18 he does value her presence and help through this whole ordeal. Of course, the social strictures within which they’re operating do complicate things, as do the differences in their personalities and goals that you note, EP. To what extent they’re able or unable to bridge those differences remains to be seen.

    And, of course, if music be the food of love, etc., etc.! ;)

    What is happening here is indeed similar to what happens in “Between the Porch and the Altar,” but notice too that it’s just localized to one single part of Gand—namely, the Great Temple colony at the north pole—rather than the whole planet. Also, it’s implied in BTPATA that the Imperials were swatting away the mists from above, from their capital starshiips—whereas in this case the mists are being thinned from below. Just see what happens in future chapters…

    Fengor recognizes Zuckuss's abilities and unique status only when it suits his own purposes to do so, of course. In this case, he’s playing on his son’s ego in order to coax him into taking on this Very Noble but also Very Dangerous task. The fact that Zuckuss can sense that something isn’t right, despite all the sinister buttering-up being lavished on him, shows that he isn’t totally blinded by his ego—or at least not at this point, anyway. See also the point by EP below beginning “And holy mists…”

    And thank goodness for worried old gryckle-cocks, eh? Volokoss may be somewhat of a father avian, but he too likely perceives that something is up here.

    Well, the Surface of Gand is an extremely dangerous place. As Zuckuss himself states, it’s home to dangerous creatures like trs’kuak that he could conceivably have to fend off. And explosives and such are also useful for getting out of rockslides and cave-ins and suchlike.

    If by “smoke and mirrors” you mean that Fengor didn’t just summon Luyen to him to discuss his arrangements for getting home, then yes, that certainly was the case—he really wanted to talk about Telfien. Luyen is doing the best she can to shield Telfien, though the difference of rank between her and Fengor makes that a slippery proposition. Note a few things, however: (1) when she says “Luyen is regretful . . .” she is using her given name—which perhaps suggests that she isn’t really all that regretful and is thus a subtle gesture of defiance toward Fengor; and (2) as you say, Kahara, she does sense that something is up. Indeed, if Telfien hadn’t run into Luyen in the corridor and had the chance to share her concerns with her, Luyen might not have known to be as cautious—so what a lucky thing that they did meet when they did!

    Oh, never underestimate what Fengor is capable of to further his own sinister purposes! :eek:
    I know I left things rather hanging here, and I’ll do my best to get the next installment posted soon as I can. It’s been difficult these days with RL, the December fic-gifts, and with Findsmom being in town (for one thing, she likes to use the laptop). But that’s the next thing I plan to get to work on once the December gift out of the way.

    Ask and thou shalt receive. :)




    Glad to have you, as usual! :) Everyone’s kind of caught between everyone else at this point: Zuckuss is definitely caught between Telfien and Fengor, but Telfien is caught between the father and the son, too, and even Findslady-Dean Luyen is caught at least temporarily between her responsibility to shield one of her temple’s apprentices and her duty to comply with the requests of a senior Findsmaster.

    Not to worry at all! Gosh knows it’s taken me long enough to respond properly. [face_blush]

    The bolded point is indeed at the very heart of my understanding of the Gand and their religious practices: they are by nature holistic, and are directly and organically intertwined with the physical nature of both the Gand species and the Gand homeworld. The Lhúdanswani temple, like all Gand temples, was constructed with that ethos in mind: it is not merely a space in which Gand religious practices take place, but it is a living and integral part of those practices itself. The Findsmen and their rites are the life and voice of the place in the same way as a historic organ can be the life and voice of a historic church or hall.

    (Incidentally, I haven’t yet established anything solid about what kind of instruments, built-in or otherwise, there might be in these temples, but it’s not inconceivable that there might be something; one of my very, very early drafts even mentions “the organ pipes in the Great Temple.” So you see, perhaps, where my brain is! :p )

    This was one spot where I was afraid I took “write about what you know” too gratuitously, so I’m glad it came off all right! Music and singing is of course not going to be the primary avocation for either of these characters (as we know), but perhaps it will be something they always have with them in some form and can add joy and meaning to their lives despite whatever other trials and troubles they may be called on to face. If only in fanon, at least. :p

    Absolutely, and all the more so as Fengor’s appearance there was a total surprise—none of the students or masters had had any prior warning that their temple would be graced by so august a personage, whatever the reason. So naturally they wonder about things—but only as much as befits their status and rank.

    The bolded point is a very important one. There is obviously a reason behind their mutual recognition, and although at present only Fengor knows what that reason is, Telfien is right to feel the unease that she does, and we’re right to feel unease on her behalf.

    This song, or at least part of it, has indeed appeared earlier in this story, in the testing scene in chapter 4, where it is the music box tune that Zuckuss is asked to intuit during his examination for apprenticeship. Of course, neither the subject matter of the song nor its reappearance here are happenstance. ;)

    Even if Fengor isn’t used to independently rattling teapots, Luyen almost certainly knows about Telfien’s intuitive control issues from Volokoss—and if the rattling had gone on much longer she at least might have recognized it as originating with this young and slightly unstable apprentice. Of course, maybe she already did realize it, but perhaps I’m leaving that ambiguous too. :p

    Fengor’s bluster does make for a certain amount of comic relief in this otherwise very tense and worrisome situation, and in coming up with his curses and insults I was probably subconsciously inspired in part by Captain Haddock from Hergé's Adventures of Tintin. Captain Haddock was much more bark than bite, however, and was one of the good guys—and about Fengor neither of those things can be guaranteed! :eek:

    Thanks again to all of you for reading and commenting. It may still be a bit of time before chapter 20 appears, but I appreciate your patience and your sticking with this story all the same. Joyous holidays to you all in the meantime! @};-
     
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  23. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Hi all. I know it's been too, too long since I last updated this story, but I do intend to get back onto regular work on it as soon as the dust clears from awards and various RL things, some expected and some not. But for now, though, I did want to say a big thank you to those wonderful readers of mine out there who nominated this story for the current Fanfic Awards in not just one, not just two, but three categories: Best Continuity Compliant, Telfien for best OC (what a plum for my little Gand gardener-girl turned Findswoman apprentice!), and—this one was perhaps the biggest surprise to me, but it was a very happy surprise—Zuckuss and Telfien for Best Original Relationship. [face_love] [face_love] [face_love]

    You are a wonderful bunch, and your support of this story has really and truly meant a lot to me—I just hope that in not too long I’ll be able to repay it with some actual further chapters! Thanks again. @};-
     
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  24. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Chosen One star 8

    Registered:
    Aug 31, 2004
    Hi there. Some riveting stuff happening with the trip to the mountains, rescue of Zuckuss' father and then all the events surrounding Zuckuss' new mission. Vi is indeed still showing incredible talent and intuitiveness. [face_thinking] Looking forward to more and congratulations on award for epic. =D= I will put this on watch for sure. :)
     
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  25. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Thanks so much for reading and catching up, Nyota! It's so wonderful to see you back after all this time, and it makes me smile to know that this story, too, is one of those you've returned to. :) On this new mission you'll definitely see both characters' talents developing and the bond between them growing, as well as some dangers new and old.

    And yes, there will be more; I'm embarrassed to say haven't updated in a while with one thing and another, but I'm going to see if I can ease back into it over the summer, because I do want to keep things going if I can. Wish me luck, or something! :p Thanks again.