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Saturday, June 2nd, 2007
2:40 am - Don't Dump
This is NOT an abandoned journal.

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Wednesday, December 18th, 2002
9:59 pm - Flaming Princess Eludes Pursuit -- Part II (Addresses Time Descrepancy)


(Either adjust the itinerary by one day, or change the stuff so others are talking ABOUT the absent Despina, who is still in the mountains at this time... Joe can call Evelyn, who has saved the paper for Despina... this is the first time she's seen her since it was published.)

Despina arrives early, and is happily eating with Jane when Evelyn approaches her, English language newspaper in her hand, which she'd grabbed when Joe called saying the lost had returned.


Flaming Princess Eludes Pursuit



The red-haired mother of two Indian children has taken to riding the Norwegian high country at break-neck speeds with wild abandon. Repeatedly pursued by mounted Gardsmen of the Queen, yet she showed her heels to them. The eyes of the nation have focused on this enigmatic figure, who by some accounts married the chief's second son, and thus is in line to inherit control of the Stone Circles Indian Reservation outside of Broken Lance, Arizona.

Her marriage is disputed, and recently, she surrendered custody of the two minor children without fighting it. The American newspapers report that she is teaching under her maiden name, and report that Miss MacKenzie is unavailable for comment.

However, she did comment to this reporter, apparently denying any kinship with the Indians. "I am Despina MacKenzie. I am an American. We don't have royalty."

She certainly seems to have a way of attracting younger sons with a minimal claim to the throne.

Under this cryptic comment is a huge photo of Ragnar giving her the kiss in front of the crowd that led to the standing ovation.

Looking up, feeling the red again make its way up to her face, Despina meets Evelyn's eyes. "Well, that certainly DOES appear to be about me, but I hardly recognize myself in that piece."

"I thought the resemblance was quite remarkable... I can hardly wait to hear the student's version of it."

"Oh, you're talking about the photo. I was talking about this international debate being conducted in the media concerning whether Cu and I were ever legally married, or not, whether or not I had any legal claim to his children by his first wife."

Evelyn's concern shows in her eyes. "How do YOU feel about giving up the children?"

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Nobody knows if Cu is dead or alive. There's as yet no body. But, the children were NOT making a good adjustment to White ways. At least on the res, they are the pampered darlings of 150 people, all in some degree of relationship with them. If they wanted to be with me, I'd keep them in a heartbeat, but neither asked to stay, so I had to let them go. It's sort of like the old adage, 'If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it is truly yours. If it does not, it never really was.'"

Despina sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

She is unaware of the presence of several of her "pet" students behind her, listening intently. Nobody has seen Ragnar, also listening, paused with his hand on the service door, about to enter the room.

Mark comes up and gives her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Once someone thinks to ASK the children what they want, I'm SURE you'll get them back. I don't know them, and really don't know anything about Indians, but if I had a dead mother and a missing and presumed dead father, and you were the adult that was caring for me, I sure wouldn't leave."

Suzanne adds, "Well said, Mark. I second your comments. I'm sure once the children are sure how you feel, they'll come back to you."

Despina puts on a slightly teary smile for the student's benefit, but her heart is in total turmoil.

Ragnar backs up and slips out unnoticed.

WC: 585

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7:47 pm - Empty

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7:43 pm - I Love to Go A'Wandering (WC: 1053; RL: 7.0)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/11608.html


I Love to Go A'Wandering


Despina tacks up Ibn, heading into the mountains, sure she cannot get lost, as he will know how to return to his home pasture. Tore is frantically trying to follow, but stay out of sight. He informs Ragnar of her whereabouts via cell phone. She has no idea how well looked after she is. Ragnar demands the illusion of freedom for her because of his understanding of her American nature, of how offensive the tight security would be to her. She refuses to see herself as royalty.

Cantering along a track that leads to a wide cleft in the rock, she can hear the breaking of ocean waves. "This must lead to a fjord." Ibn looks at the far bank, ears pricked. Backing up around the last curve, she sets him into a canter, picking up speed as they come to the crevasse. Effortlessly, she sails across, landing securely on the far side and slowing again to a canter across the relatively level meadow on the far side. She is exhilarated by the stallion's endurance, his athletic ability.

Tore thunders to the brink of the cliff and reins in. Flipping on the cell phone, he describes the trail she has taken and her disappearance into the trees on the far side. Then he reverses his route, heading for the down hill side of the area where a flat route will eventually lead him back to the spot she's re-entered the trees. He will, however, be several hours behind her by then, he calculates.

Ragnar, after reaching his own conclusions, heads out for another town towing a trailer. When Despina appears out of the trees above the area, a kindly guardsman who just happens to be standing on duty there guides her to him. She has no idea what coordination this apparently casual meeting has cost.

With a swift peck on her cheek, Ragnar loads up the stallion, noting that a prolonged walk has dried his sweat. He glows with the realization that his wife is a consummate horsewoman. She may take on feats of daring-do that would pale the cheeks of a rugged army veteran, but she certainly respects her mount in the process.


At first Ragnar regrets that Despina has ever heard of the Trans-Nordic Endurance Race, but gradually he accepts that her daily rambles have left both she and Ibn in superb competitive condition. After entering Tore and himself also, he consents to her participation. She quickly outdistances the more seasoned mountain riders, and is sure to "burn out" en-route. But she does not. Steadily, her lead increases. Tore is quite beside himself trying to keep her in sight. He eventually has to withdraw and accept a fresh mount from one of Ragnar's men. When he is on his third horse, he realizes she is off course. Since she is leading the pack, everyone will undoubtedly thing the trail has simply been re-routed. She is on the lower end of the fjord trail, but is not up high enough to recognize it yet, he is sure. Cell phone out, he notifies the race authorities of the change. Since the official helicopter can see that, indeed, everyone is following the same route, she is not declared out of bounds. It would be absurd to disqualify everyone. This ruling is made BEFORE anyone has traced where her route is going to end up.

Ibn easily crosses the chasm, but Tore knows he will have to go around. Leaving his mount on the west side with another guard, he climbs down and up the far side, accepting another mount from another man stationed there. As he thunders over the meadow, he hears the main pack hit the cleft. Two hurtle it fearlessly. Several others dismount and coax their reluctant mounts down a less steep-sided place a quarter kilometer to the north. Two others turn back. Five riders leap the forbidding gap out of the 53 entered, including Ragnar, whose mount scrambles for a purchase on the far slope. Once the afternoon shower hits the area, the ride officials close the trail, turning the rest back to a lower route that is not life threatening.

The race ends with Despina never seeing a competitor after the start of the race. Although the official helicopter missed filming her leap, Ragnar's and several others make the evening news. Despina's reputation soars. Ibn, who was chided as being a "pony" before the race, has taken on the stature of legend as the little horse who could.

Ragnar, in the post race interview, laughs at this description of his beloved Arabian. "What you people seem to have forgotten is that the Arabian was bred for endurance. Granted, his turf was originally a desert, not the mountains, they are the endurance horse of choice in most nations of the world and the universal winners and record-setters. He's just finally had a rider of the proper size to allow him to compete."

Brandon Gannon, sticking his mike right under Ragnar's nose, asks, "Do you feel any dent in your Viking armor at being bested by your own wife?"

Ragnar's rich laugh booms out. "Oh, no. She's a mighty competitor and a worthy opponent. Nobody needs to feel badly for not being able to keep up with her. Tore used four mounts, and still could not keep her in sight, and he's always been in the top three riders. He dropped out this year as a favor to me, to try to provide her with a guard."

Race officials justified the route change as being an added challenge to spice up the race. "I'd be ashamed to say a woman could ride where I could not if I were one of those who could not make the leap. Since they were not in the lead before they hit that area, I don't see how they could think they were going to catch her no matter what the terrain. That little stallion was flying without a license or plane. This is the fastest time on the ride we've ever had, by more than an hour and thirty minutes. In the beginning, the race had NO set course. Just start here, and end here, the fastest time wins. No matter how you slice it, she won. Nobody else was anywhere near her."

WC: 1053
Reading Level: 7.0

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4:58 pm - The Conspiracy's Spread (Original Word Count: 69)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/14124.html
The Conspiracy's Spread

Tore calls out to Eric, elated, "I found him! Her husband! He is actually strong enough to register faintly, once I knew to look in Arizona. We need to treat him pronto if we want to save him, however. He's going to need a full reconstruct."

The priest moves over to examine the traces of life essence Tore has isolated. "Yes, that's fantastic. I wish we'd located his mother while she was still living. Can we locate the grave? Even a bone fragment might be enough. Where's Ragnar?"

"Somewhere in Sweden, I think."

"Well, get word to him at once. We need input about retrieval without animosity from the US end of things."

Checking to be sure Eric has really left, Tore contacts the hotel he knows Ragnar spent the night in. Pressing the urgent nature of the message upon the hapless desk clerk, he insists that the note be delivered at once, regardless of the early hour. "Yes, the Royal suit. Immediately, if not sooner. Send his favorite maid up with the note. I'm sure he can think of a way to repay her for the extra time..."

Once he's got that piece of business in hand, he lines up a straight flight to Flagstaff for the royal jet. US customs are not inclined to be sticky, in light of the recent international debate over the ultimate fate of the Indian children. Once that chore is over, he lines up two suitable nurses to shepherd the children through the intricacies of international travel. The queen's foresight in lining up passports for them on an emergency basis is about to pay off. Deciding to ship one of the two horses that roam the range at will, but belong to Despina (who entrusted their care to Cu in one of her much debated marriages to him), he authorizes a false floor that will really contain Cu, or what's left of him.

Checking with the Viking agent the Queen sent to Arizona to arrange for the passport applications and photos of the children, Tore sends the exact location of Cu's aura via geostationary orbit. He describes the false bottom the horse stall is to have, and leaves no doubt that the man will forfeit his life if Cu is NOT in there when it arrives. He leaves it to his discretion what horse to bring.

When he learns later that day of the canyon's inaccessibility where Cu's body rests, he authorizes a helicopter to ferry it out. He hates to hire someone not of Norwegian blood to do it, but he has no choice. He's well aware of the American foundation hidden in Mountain Fastness trying to trace their work, beat them to a true-breeding line.

Last updated 11/8/04.

Word count: 425
Reading Level:7.0

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7:53 am - Oh, So True! (Empty)

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Friday, December 6th, 2002
7:30 am - Winter Isolation (11/27/04; Word Count: 1219)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandemo/497369.html


Winter Isolation


Gradually after the latest spate of publicity that follows Despina's endurance race win and its accompanying adulation from the Norwegian people she comes in contact with dies back, her life with Ragnar settles into a routine. She discovers his hunting cabin is in the hidden valley she'd heard about the first time she visited the priest's cave.

Following his abdication, they settle there, hunting and fishing. I really didn't expect to use the cabin for its intended purpose, but during my 'mountain madness under the midnight sun', that's exactly what's happening! Despina reflects, looking up from the book she's reading. I wonder what century this was constructed in? Certainly pre-electricity. A far cry from an American style hunting cabin. These stones must have been chiseled by hand. We'd have hand-hewn tree trunks, maybe planed off, but probably not. Certainly, we would not have produced a smooth hand-laid stone floor. Wooden, maybe, but unlikely.

Tore and two other body guards stand outside in all weather, in eight hour shifts. They come in blue with cold and moving stiffly. Finally Despina cannot stand it any longer. "Ragnar, it would please me greatly if the guards went on Navy time -- four hours on, four off, instead of a full eight hours. They can't be enjoying it very much. Yesterday, it was a full two hours before Tore could move all his fingers. That can't be good for a person. Can we requisition some insulated underwear that plugs in? I read about it somewhere."

"I'm certainly glad you aren't holding that ring while you insulted their manhood like that."

"I certainly hope you're teasing me. For if you're serious, I'll have to get very cross with you, which might even lead to our first row."

"Okay, when Tore comes in for supper, hold the ring and see for yourself."

Despina schemes away until the appointed time for Tore's appearance comes. "Tore, you are bound to Ragnar. Is that a life-threatening situation?"

"No, not here, but if that were required, he'd have it without asking."

"That's very noble of you, Tore, but in this day and age, I doubt it is quite as necessary as it once was."

Ragnar begins to think she is going to box Tore in and sticks his oar into the discussion. "Think 'terrorist target'. All royalty, no matter how minor, are at risk of being kidnapped, having their wives and lovers, children and animals, farms and holdings vandalized, held hostage, held for ransom, or used by people of ill will."

"Don't you have an equal obligation to look out for your subject's welfare?"

Tore raises his eyebrow in surprise.

"You should not challenge me in front of him. It upsets his sense of right and wrong. He's very conservative in his social view."

"You mean, he thinks I should be running around in gowns like the one that I wore to the concert?"

"Can the poor man sit down and eat his meal in peace? As you are so ably pointing out, he's put in a grueling afternoon."

Despina moves off to pour him some mead and dip up some warm soup full of vegetables. She sets a loaf of black bread within reach, and some spread she cannot think of the name of, but which is made of berries. Watching him eat, she is pained by the way he holds his spoon and fumbles for his mouth. Two tears roll slowly down her face. She says nothing, finally moving to the bed so she is in less light.

"Pina? What's the matter? I've never seen you cry other than when ... other than when you had good reason to."

"Can't you see how he's hurting?"

"He said nothing about being in pain."

"Watch how he has to hold his fork... how he grasps the cup... he shouldn't HAVE to say anything. We should care enough to take care of it in a responsible, reasonable matter, not make it a bone of contention to be fought over. If YOU said he was to serve shorter times, he would. HE won't argue with YOU."

Holding the ring away from her neck as he hugs her to him, he quickly tells Tore that he suspects she is premenstrual. "Will you check as soon as you get done there? Can you monitor it from afar?"

Tore answers in one word. When his bowl is empty, he elaborates, "Premenstrual Syndrome has no diagnostic," as he refills it. "Have you told her yet what is about to happen to her?"

"She's a smart girl. She'll figure it out."

"That seems heartless. It's bound to scare her when she KNOWS it is impossible. There's nothing in her culture, her background, to help her handle something of this proportion. You ought to prepare her."

Suddenly suspicious, Ragnar glares at Tore, "What is this, anyway? You're concerned for her welfare; she's bent out of shape about yours and the other guards..."

"Nothing's going on except that she treats people as human beings regardless of their station in life. That is ONE American attitude that could be spread around to advantage."

Unexpectedly, Despina breaks in where neither man expects to have a woman put forth her opinion. "See, if you ordered him to, he wouldn't fight it. He'd maybe not say 'Thank you' -- men have this thing about it, as if it showed weakness, not good breeding and proper raising."

Ragnar stiffens. "That's not what we're talking about."

Moving her hand over his, she touches the ring. "Tore, if Ragnar ordered you to do something different from the way things have always been done, but the change made your life better, and did not offer any other drawbacks, would you feel uncomfortable doing it?"

"I don't have opinions about orders. They are just that -- orders. I obey them."

"Okay. Now YOU tell him. That way, it isn't coming from me," Despina whispers, dropping her hand so she is no longer touching the ring. Leaning forward, she lightly kisses him, then pulls away, rolls fully onto the bed, and turns to the wall so he is not really doing it in front of her, as if by doing that, she does not gloat over winning, step on his authority, or come between he and his body guard.

Grumbling a bit, Ragnar picks up a bowl stacked on an open shelf and helps himself and Tore to another bowl of soup, even though he is not really hungry. "Tore, while it is so bitter cold, will you work out shorter shifts so you people don't lose your fighting edge to cold?"

Tore's eyebrows shoot up, but he only nods his head in assent. Breaking off a huge chunk of the bread, he pauses before dunking it in his soup. "Your misses is quite kind-hearted. I think you are also right about the effects on our ability to fight well when that cold."

"You are picking up English?"

"No. She INSISTS on giving all three of us English lessons and that we give her Norwegian lessons as well."

"That sly little...," with an appreciative laugh, Ragnar breaks off. "She really makes life more interesting, doesn't she?"

The two men's laughter brings Despina back to the table, but her face is still red and puffy for quite a while.

Last updated 11/27/04.

Word Count: 1219
Reading Level: 5.3

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Thursday, December 5th, 2002
7:32 am - I Love to Go A'Wandering (11/12/04; WC: 1112)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandemo/495986.html


I Love to Go A'Wandering


Despina tacks up Ibn, heading into the mountains, sure that she cannot get lost, as he will know how to return to his home pasture. Tore is frantically trying to follow, but stay out of sight. He informs Ragnar of her whereabouts via cell phone. She has no idea how well looked after she is. Ragnar demands the illusion of freedom for her because of his understanding of her American nature, of how offensive the tight security would be to her. She refuses to see herself as royalty.

Cantering along a track that leads to a wide cleft in the rock, she can hear the breaking of ocean waves. "This must lead to a fjord," she tells the swiveling ears. Ibn looks at the far bank, ears pricked. Backing up around the last curve, she sets him into a canter, picking up speed until they are in a flat-out gallop as they come to the crevasse. Effortlessly, they sail across, landing securely on the far side and slowing again to a canter as they cross the relatively level meadow on the far side. She is exhilarated by the stallion's endurance, his athletic ability.

Tore thunders to the brink of the cliff and reins in. Anyone who knew him well, glancing at his face as he watches her fleeing form flit between the far-off trees and disappear from view would have been hard-pressed to remember his inflapability in times of crises. Flipping on the cell phone, he describes the trail she has taken and her disappearance into the trees on the far side. Then he reverses his route, heading for the down slope area where a flat route will eventually lead him back to the spot she's re-entered the trees. He will, however, be several hours behind her by then, he calculates.

Ragnar, after reaching his own conclusions, heads out for another town towing a trailer. When Despina appears out of the trees above the town park, she is guided to Ragnar and the waiting trailer by a kindly guardsman who just happens to be standing on duty there. She has no idea what coordination this apparently casual meeting has taken.

With a swift peck on her cheek, Ragnar loads up the stallion, noting that he seems none the worse for wear; even his sweat has been dried by a prolonged walk. He glows with the realization that his wife is a consummate horsewoman. She may take on feats of daring-do that would pale the cheeks of a rugged army veteran, but she certainly respects her mount in the process.


At first Ragnar regrets that Despina has ever heard of the Trans-Nordic Endurance Race, but gradually he accepts that her daily rambles have left both she and Ibn in superb competitive condition. After entering Tore and himself also, he consents to her participation. She quickly outdistances the more seasoned mountain riders, and is sure to "burn out" en-route. But she does not. Steadily, her lead increases. Tore is quite beside himself trying to keep her in sight. He eventually has to withdraw and accept a fresh mount from one of Ragnar's men. When he is on his third horse, he realizes she is off course. Since she is leading the pack, everyone will undoubtedly thing the trail has simply been re-routed. She is on the lower end of the fjord trail, but is not up high enough to recognize it yet, he is sure. Cell phone out, he notifies the race authorities of the change. Since the official helicopter can see that, indeed, everyone is following the same route, she is not declared out of bounds. It would be absurd to disqualify everyone. This ruling is made BEFORE anyone has traced where her route is going to end up.

Ibn easily crosses the chasm, but Tore knows he will have to go around. Leaving his mount on the west side with another guard, he climbs down and up the far side, accepting another mount from another man stationed there. As he thunders over the meadow, he hears the main pack hit the cleft. Two hurtle it fearlessly. Several others dismount and coax their reluctant mounts down a less steep-sided place a quarter kilometer to the north. Two others turn back. Five riders leap the forbidding gap out of the 53 entered, including Ragnar, whose mount scrambles for a purchase on the far slope. Once the afternoon shower hits the area, the ride officials close the trail, turning the rest back to a lower route that is not life-threatening.

The race ends with Despina never seeing a competitor after the start of the race. Although the official helicopter missed filming her leap, Ragnar's and several others make the evening news. Despina's reputation soars. Ibn, who was chided as being a "pony" before the race, has taken on the stature of legend as the little horse who could.

Ragnar, in the post race interview, laughs at this description of his beloved Arabian. "What you people seem to have forgotten is that the Arabian was bred for endurance. Granted, his turf was originally a desert, not the mountains, they are the endurance horse of choice in most nations of the world and the universal winners and record-setters. He's just finally had a rider of the proper size to allow him to compete."

Brandon Gannon, sticking his mike right under Ragnar's nose, asks, "Do you feel any dent in your Viking armor at being bested by your own wife?"

Ragnar's rich laugh booms out. "Oh, no. She's a mighty competitor and a worthy opponent. Nobody needs to feel badly for not being able to keep up with her. Tore used four mounts, and still could not keep her in sight, and he's always been in the top three riders. He dropped out this year as a favor to me, to try to provide her with a guard."

Race officials justified the route change as being an added challenge to spice up the race. "I'd be ashamed to say a woman could ride where I could not if I were one of those who could not make the leap. Since they were not in the lead before they hit that area, I don't see how they could think they were going to catch her no matter what the terrain. That little stallion was flying without a license or plane. This is the fastest time on the ride we've ever had, by more than an hour and thirty minutes. In the beginning, the race had NO set course. Just start here, and end here, the fastest time wins. No matter how you slice it, she won. Nobody else was anywhere near her."

Last updated 11/12/04.

WC: 1112
RL: 7.2

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Wednesday, December 4th, 2002
7:22 am - Royal Ceremony (11/17/04; Word Count: 1023)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandemo/497474.html


Royal Ceremony


At the request of the Viking Queen Kristina, Svein returns with his entire tour group to attend a royal coronation. The Queen Mother, Drottning Kristina, although she looks middle aged, is reported to be a phenomenonal number of years old. Despina is sure she has mis-heard. Methuselah has NOTHING on her! She has picked a date for retirement, is handing the country over to her designated heir, a secret kept under wraps with NO normal, customary leaks to the press, much to their chagrin, and has chosen her daughter Kristina for one of her subjects, who will be elevated to Royal Consort. Speculation is running rampant. He will be a commoner who will rule the country in her stead. She will be married off, then be set aside in favor of someone of the old Viking blood, for the first time in 1000 years. Another foreign royal from somewhere else (Denmark and England are the favorite places, including the British Prince's younger brother, who is quite YOUNG to ascend, but that doesn't stop the talk,) will ascend the throne instead of allowing a Queen with an illegimate child to rule. The royal pomp and splendor is awe-inspiring. The commoners are back against the walls of the great hall, behind 2" fat rolled red velvet barriers with gold tips, held on gold pylons.

I've seen the brass-coated, velveteen swadled imitations of these at the various theaters, guiding people in line to the ticket window, separating them from those who've already paid, but they are pale imitations, indeed, thinks Despina as she gently reaches forward and touches one. Instantly, she can understand the ancient Norse before Svein gets around to a decidedly rough translation. At one point, the teacher in her pops out, and she corrects him. The look on his face is priceless, but he's not the only one who has heard!

At that exact instant, Ragnar, definitely NOT in "stable hand" array, is passing, and at the sound of her voice speaking the ancient language, he darts his head sharply in her direction. Their eyes meet. Giving him a sickly smile and a nod, she prays she has not broken some horrid taboo. NOBODY in the entire official crowd is speaking at all, only various interpreters, as most modern day Norwegians not part of the royal court also are not entirely familiar with ancient Norse, although they can recognize some words along the way.

Despina squeezes the roping for all she's worth, strangles it in a death grip. Ragnar's step falters. The queen continues the ceremony, but her eyes are spitting fire at Ragnar, perhaps sensing his potential betrayal. For she is offering HIM the kingship! Despina's eyes widen and her mouth forms an O of horror. Surely, he doesn't want to rule! He doesn't strike me as being ambitious for power, and someone who is not will never be able to hold it, much less rule well. She pastes a pale smile on her lips, but Ragnar sees at once that it does not reach her eyes.

Dropping on one knee and nearly touching his head to the floor, Ragnar's voice rolls out over the crowd without need of artificial enhancement. "Your Magesty has honored me beyond my wildest imaginings. I am nearly speechless at the magnanimousness of your offer. But, I find I must pass this honor on to a more closely related, rightful heir: Your royal daughter, Kristina. I would never dream of coming between her and the throne. By your leave, your majesty... I would withdraw.

"We are quite vexed with you, my boy, a position in which we have found ourselves in more often than not. Yet, forsooth, ye hath spoken rightly. Mine own flesh and blood shall become my heir."

Ragnar arises, head still inclined respectfully toward his ruler. He can feel her fury beat upon him. He realizes that he will not escape unscathed from this battle of wills.

"And what of thy royal bride?"

Despina's head snaps from contemplating Ragnar's incredible face, so serene in its treachery to his monarch, to hers. Bride? I've seen no evidence of a bride prospect around. Or is this another thing like the way to recognize a royal master bedroom that I'm just too plebian to notice?

Raising his head proudly, Ragnar announces in a clear voice, "I've made other plans. I would be released, your majesty. Fully released."

The crowd gasps. Nobody needs to translate his words, for they are not in Norse, but in one of the two modern languages all Norwegian school children learn.

Her temper finally flares past her decorum. "Go, then. Ye hath gained our eternal disfavor!" Her imperial finger points to the open end doors through which he has just entered.

His face is impassive as he executes a sharp military reversal of direction. Again he is directly across from Despina. Without moving his head one iota, not even swiveling his eyes toward her, he holds out a hand and pauses. Dropping both her purse and the velvet rope, she walks toward him, slipping her hand inside his. Tore and Svein drop opposite ends of the barrier and she passes onto the red velvet carpet running arrow straight down the center of the huge hall.

"Despina, what are you doing?" shouts Evelyn. Svein moves quickly to her, picks up Despina's purse and talks quietly with her, explaining what has just happened in hushed tones. The students, once they realize Despina and Ragnar will marry, begin to clap. Soon it spreads to the entire commoners area of the hall.

(Later on, have her rule BADLY, and Ragnar, who has rejected her hand in favor of Despina, has to return to provide his input into the reign to prevent active rebellion at her audacity, lack of restraint, and even cruelty. The modern day Norwegians are just not about to go along with the ancient doctrine "divine right of kings". Her excesses soon have her constituents comparing her to Marie la Frances of "Let them eat cake" fame.)

Last updated 11/17/04.

Word Count: 1023
Reading Level: 7.7

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Tuesday, December 3rd, 2002
7:21 pm - Intimate Moments -- Ragnar and Despina (11/20/04; WC: 260)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandemo/502440.html

Tallinn's picturesque old town finds them again in double occupancy.

"You don't strike me as a sedate married lady."

"I'm not."

"Tell me about your husband."

"He demanded that I always speak Spanish."

"Okay, I'm game."

"Está muerte."

Ragnar falls silent. His roving hand that has been rhythmically stroking Despina pauses. "How long has he been gone?"

"More than nine months. My passport and driver's license read 'Miss', but my soul still feels married."

"The passport is new?"

"Yes."

"So that is natural. But the driver's license?"

"Was only a few months old when I went to Broken Lance."

"Then why change the driver's license? Aren't they good for several years?"

"Mine never got changed in the first place. I'm touring for distraction, for surcease, for revitalization. Romance right now just doesn't seem the right remedy."

His hand cups her chin, a thumb tenderly wiping away a stray tear. "Surcease. A distraction. I think I can manage that much." When he gently takes an ear lobe between his teeth, Despina feels an unexpected surge flash through her body.

He's so knowing. Always the right word, gesture, touch. I'm out of my league, here. I'm getting wet when I don't want to. It feels somehow disloyal. How can I be disloyal to a dead man? Stifling a sob, she rolls to one side and curls in on herself.

Ragnar curls himself protectively around her; one arm drapes over her side. Soon one breast lies contentedly snuggled in his palm, his knee between her legs.

Last updated 11/20/04.

Word Count: 260
Reading Level: 3.4

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Sunday, December 1st, 2002
7:16 am - Conversational Gambit in Finland (11/10/04; WC: 702)


http://www.livejournal.com/~blondbomb/16045.html


Conversational Gambit in Finland


At the Helsinki airport, Despina exits customs after a walk-through and a nod, as she's come from another Euro block nation. Ragnar, casually waiting for her to deplane, turns on the charm and wit to spar away her ill will.

"You, again! What's going on?"

"I'm working for the same person I was the last time you asked, so the answer is still the same. Don't take it personally. If I were a US citizen, you would probably call what I am about 'shuttle diplomacy'." He smiles broadly, opening his arms disarmingly.

No briefcase, this time. He's so handsome. I'm definitely within range of his hormones. Finland is surely a bigger country than just Helsinki. This is just too much coincidence for me to swallow.

"Don't try to tell me you didn't plan THIS meeting!"

"No, this one is pure lust on my part," he admits ruefully, drawing her into an embrace she wants powerfully to resist, but as soon as he touches her, she goes up in smoke.

Mark has turned back, and without thinking, shouts, "Are you coming, Despina?" before he's really taken the situation in. "Oh, there she goes again. Off with her tall un-dark stranger. We won't see her again this sight-seeing tour, I bet. There go all the fun places to visit." With a lop-sided grin of his own, he pulls Suzanne to him, hugging her in a pale imitation of the full embrace Ragnar has used. Suzanne gets a matching goofy, happy grin on her face, unconsciously mimicking the look on Despina's as she glances up at Ragnar.

Switching to an arm-in-arm arrangement, Ragnar walks her over. Catching Svein's eye, he inquires in rapid Norwegian if he may attach himself to the tour group for the time being.

Switching to English, Svein replies suavely, "I'm sure every member of our group would feel honored to be in the company of a Viking Prince. This is indeed an honor, sir." Thus setting the tone for the interactions of the Americans with this brush with royalty, he sets off organizing the trip to the hotel, a decidedly more downscale place than Ragnar can quite stomach.

"We'll be using my private accommodations, Svein. Can you give us the time the first tour of the city is due to begin?" With the arrangements made, he spirits Despina off with him, snatching her luggage deftly from the pile.

"How'd you know which bags were mine?"

"I've seen them before," he reminds her.

"But that looked like more than a glance -- that looked like the quick recognition of ownership."

Afraid she's working up to being annoyed, he leans over and plants a kiss on her nose. "Come, Princess. Our carriage awaits."

Expecting a taxi, she turns to find a horse-drawn carriage literally waiting, door open. "Where... How? I didn't know Helsinki had horse drawn carriages."

"Well, I didn't have time to import one of Ibn's stable mates."

She shivers at his deep laugh. Everything he does seems to affect me. I haven't been this off balance since I was 15!

While the others fiddle with strange food in a cheaper restaurant, Ragnar rings for a fruit plate for dipping into, then delights in quickly stripping Despina and whisking her off to bed before the tour is due to officially begin.

Afterward, Despina finds it hard to work up any enthusiasm for the coming sight-seeing. "Come, Princess, duty calls. We must not disappoint your constituents. Mark and Suzanne are clearly following our lead."

"Gulp! At a much less intense and serious level, I certainly hope! We've been quite flamboyant."

"I've something quite serious to propose to you, Princess."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that. Our Indians don't have royalty, and I am only a tribe member by marriage, not blood. I have NO claim to that title, at all. It makes me feel dishonest and uncomfortable."

"I'll try to amend my ways. It is natural for a Prince to address his wife as Princess."

"But, surely we have not married... " Despina sputters to a stop in confusion.

"But, I think it is time to schedule a royal wedding. While your pets can still attend. If we skip Tallinn."

Last updated 11/10/04.

WC: 702
RL: 5.5

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Saturday, November 30th, 2002
9:49 pm - Morality (11/10/04 WC: 399)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/13690.html


Morality


How can I keep losing my head with Ragnar like I seem to? I've never been "easy", and I certainly can't lay the blame all on him! I just seem to flare up at the slightest touch. Hand, eye, voice, everything seems to just set me off. How can eye contact, even at a distance, affect me so? I'm behaving totally irrationally. I'm surprised Evelyn hasn't taken me aside and had a little friendly chat about the example I'm setting in front of the students.

Despina, having argued herself to a standstill, gives a shrug and says aloud, "At least none of this is going to be all over the gossip circles in Iowa. Teachers are living about 50 years behind the rest of society when it comes to what the public will accept in morals."

And I'm not even letting myself thing about what happens if Cu had turned up alive, instead of dead. I started with Ragnar BEFORE his body was found. If it is really his. They'd have to be pretty sure it was to do a news story like that about it, wouldn't they? Hummm... Or maybe not, if it were deemed newsworthy. I'd better ask Brandon about that.

Glancing up, she spots the now-familiar figure of Ragnar heading toward her, the briefcase in his hand.

"Done for the day?" he inquires with a quirky smile. "I have to shuttle on to Finland, tomorrow. Where are you headed?"

"Ah, would you believe, Helsinki?"

"Great. You can keep me company." So saying, he puts her arm through hers and pulls her into his taxi back to the Grand.


In the morning, she hurriedly catches up with the tour group just as they are boarding the plane to Helsinki.

"Ah," says Svein, looking at her with open curiosity, "where did you dump the Prince off this time?"

"He says he's got to go to Finland. Queen's business. Not being in the 'concort' business, I decided there's safety in numbers."

"You don't know the Viking legends where females are concerned. They may have a 'civilized' veneer over them, now, but they always get their woman in the end. They no longer rape, pillage, and burn, but they are just as deadly, ultimately. He's got his eye on you, Queen's business, or no."

With a somewhat forced laugh, Despina shrugs off his warning as so much male bravado.

Last updated 11/10/04.

WC: 399
Reading Level: 5.2

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Friday, November 29th, 2002
7:32 pm - Oh, Are You Going to the Palace, Too? (11/10/04 WC: 893)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/10535.html


Oh, Are You Going to the Palace, Too?


Ragnar and an official-looking briefcase go to City Hall shortly after Despina and Mr. Paterson leave. Inconspicuously scanning the crowd waiting to board the ferry Prince Carl Phillip to Drottningholm Palace, Ragnar follows Svein's tour entourage that traipses up to the top deck, choosing to sit in the open on benches around the outer edge. He arranges things so that Mark is on one side of Despina, and he occupies the other, unconcerned when Svein fills out the rest of their perch.

For an hour, in between Svein's rhapsodies about the abundant unspoiled natural places inside Stockholm itself, details about the temperature range experienced by Stockholm's residents, the shipping, historical size, importance, wars and Viking influence on the culture of Stockholm, Ragnar cleverly pumps information from Despina.

"Any after-effects from your nightmare?" says Ragnar, speaking low to keep the conversation private.

"Well, I'm still a bit sleepy, but I'm NOT entirely sure I can blame THAT on the nightmare!"

"Oh, didn't you sleep well?" repeats Mark solicitously.

On the far side of Mark, Mr. Peterson gives an aborted chortle.

"It reminds me of the buildings in London. All that green lawn would sure make a lovely place to canter Ibn."

"Oh, my God! Don't even SUGGEST it! You'd probably set off another international incident. I can just see the headline: Norwegian Prince Chases Flaming Princess Across Scandinavia."

"Viking Prince? I didn't know you were a Prince. As in part of the Royal family? I didn't see anyone that looked like you in the pictures of the Royal family!"

"Not the Royal family. We put some foreigners on our thrown at the start of the 20th century. I am a VIKING prince -- we've LONG been out of the country-ruling business, although there is a cachet to being part of the old time royalty."

Despina calms down. "Oh! I think I understand..." She looks at the scenery around her again, mainly to help her regain her composure. "And just LOOK at that fountain! Why, it's low enough for me to take him wading in! Is it enchanted, like the Queen's fountain?"

"Enchanted? The fountain you bathed the horse in was The Fountain in Vigeland Park. It's not enchanted," says Svein, frowning in puzzlement.

"Is that a lion or a gargoyle?" asks Mark.

"His face sort of looks as if it might have been the model for the one in The Wizard of Oz."

"If you Americans are going to refer continually to that movie, I'm going to have to buy a copy, get it transferred onto an European format, and watch it!"

"Good luck, Ragnar," quips Svein in his normal voice. "That movie is older than both of their ages put together. I sincerely doubt it's even still available. At least here, they're just TALKING about it. When we were in Elsinor at the Kronborg, the castle that was home to Hamlet, they all got out in the gardens and pranced around on the gravel walkways, singing Follow The Yellow Brick Road and taking real exaggerated strides... They were so outré other tourist's kids got behind them and mimicked them. It was horrid!"

"No, it wasn't! We all sang on key, and even the spontaneous harmony fit the style of the original composition."

"I've never before wanted to crawl under a bush or grow wings and fly out onto one of the offshore islands to hide so nobody would know this was happening on one of MY tour groups!"

"Well, I like that! The fellow videoing us thought it was great! He was really cracking up!"

"That may just say more about the tastelessness of American tourists, perhaps," quips Ragnar, staunchly supporting a fellow Scandinavian, even though he has no idea what the song is, nor how well or poorly Mark and Despina sing. "I simply MUST see this movie! I think, good or bad, I'm sorry I missed your performance."

"What is it with you guys? Last summer, every time someone would report to Mickey that Paul Peter and I or whoever else was handy, had 'performed', he'd say the very same thing, word for word!"

"Mickey is the sheriff, no? But Paul Peter? He is...?"

"The teacher whom I work with back in Iowa that was also working down on the Stone Circles Reservation last summer... but I didn't know he was going, nor did he know I was, so it was quite an unpleasant shock. He spent the whole summer trying to ah... give me um... help me... well, we just plain don't get along very well, and last summer did NOTHING to change that! He likes to keep everyone upset. HE was quite spectacularly successful. I like things calm and peaceful, but... Gee, actually, I think I caused more of the situations than he did, but ... ah... Oh, forget it!"

Ragnar smiles encouragingly at her, but Mark and Mr. Peterson frown in confusion.

"I don't know about over here, but any big town's video store stocks The Wizard of Oz in Iowa," puts in Mark earnestly, trying to ease Despina's obvious distress.

"But, Iowa and Kansas are neighbors, no?"

"Kansas is below Nebraska, the state just to the west."

Ragnar gives a satisfied nod of his head.

He's as vain about his knowledge of geography as he is about his prowess with languages.

(Scathing note to self: Okay, dumb-dumb, just what deep secrets did Ragnar trick Despina into revealing in THAT conversation? What ones did you WANT him to discover? Make a list and check the stuff off and maybe it might happen, suppose?)

Last updated 11/10/04.

WC: 893
RL:6.6

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Thursday, November 28th, 2002
11:54 pm - What's Next, Boss? (1/15/03; WC: 577)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/10467.html


What's Next, Boss?


"I stood right there and let her make arrangements to rejoin the tour. I couldn't think of a single thing that I could say while she was being so sweet, letting ME have the time I needed to do the Queen's business, never guessing SHE was the Queen's business I'd been sent to do. I've never been so brain dead in my life."

"She DID get her second dose, right?"

"Come on, Eric! I'm NOT incompetent, you know. I know how much she needs to get those first ones every day."

"You seem, ah, overly agitated. Is a certain redhead bothering you?"

"Just because I've been ORDERED to be attentive does NOT erase the fact that I chose this woman."

"Okay. What about the husband? How strong is her bond with him?"

"That's strange. I THINK the marriage was never consummated. When I got her talking about him, it was all quite impersonal. What it amounts to is, he's a good person. He's handsome. Everyone loves him. Almost like a true royal wedding, where the lover is cherished on the side, but the heirs come from the legal wife type of thing."

"What heirs? They certainly can't get her into production! Look how many years we carefully planted nano technology into the scientific community before someone ELSE finally got the bright idea... so what if the science fiction writers were having a field day with it."

"He already had two lovely children and needed a suitable mother for them."

"Yeah, well, they'll be here before you have her back here at the rate you're going. Have you got any helpful ideas about that husband? If he weren't such a top prospect for broadening the gene pool, I'd almost be in favor of taking care of him."

"NO! Once we bring her in, she'll have access to whatever we've done. Don't do ANYTHING in any way, shape, or form underhanded! It will come back to bite us big time!'

"I'm all ears. I'd rather be above board..."

"Yeah, right! Since when? Ummmm.... Faulty DNA test -- body miss-identified?"

"Oh, some testing lab will probably SUE us for that one! So closely related the test was inaccurate? That whole tribe is inbred, right?"

"No. She said he is NOT really the son of the chief, but of an Indian agent, but the father and older brother don't know it -- only she and some sheriff she picked up somewhere. If some smart alec got their hands on that blood test, it might come out how little he's related..."

"Well, sleep on it. We need a sure-fire plan that gets her producing from both of you."

"Don't count on that! She's pretty set against immorality as she defines it, which is STRICTLY."

"Ah, I see. An excuse to fail, huh? Just making sure you cover your rear end when you can't hit a home run, right?"

"I'm NOT failing, here. When I have her in my arms.... But, I am coming to respect her moral nature."

"So, try some logic. She seems intelligent enough to understand what we're about here."

"Not without the team's okay, and the Queen's agreement that the time is right."

"I'll submit the request and file your objections."

"I have to think up a reason to take their tour boat across to the palace... I'll bring her home with me after a supper that will soften her up."

"Take her to a concert."

Last updated 1/15/03.

WC: 577

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6:48 am - Discontent


The novel is going off in a way I am highly uncomfortable with. The delivery method might have been the only way 1000 years in the past, but we can now do it more sanitarily...

So, while they're on the ferry, I think Ragnar needs to see a collapse and modern intervention... He's bright, he can adapt.

Or, should it happen earlier? Dump out the maid/overnight in the Grand Hotel?

Even having CHARACTERS in a story spend that much money BOTHERS my Scotch blood... LOL.

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Wednesday, November 27th, 2002
7:25 pm - Joy In the Morning (11/8/04; WC: 1339)


http://www.livejournal.com/~blondbomb/10167


Joy In the Morning


When Despina rouses, she is still safely curled against Ragnar. Two nights in a row... This is starting to be habit-forming.

She tries to slip out to answer the call of nature without disturbing him, but she is unsuccessful.

He wakes like a soldier -- all at once, he goes from sound asleep to totally alert. "Good morning. Are you always so fresh-looking in the morning?" Playfully, he pulls her hair, drawing her face toward his. The kiss, when it comes, is gentle, but she feels its effect sink clear to her toes.

This gives the old expression thoroughly kissed a whole new meaning. She curls her toes tightly, holding very still so she doesn't break the spell.

Ragnar rises, picking her up and carrying her into the spacious marble-floored bath. Elbowing the water on, he efficiently strips her, then himself, stepping in with her still pressed close to his heart.

I love the sound of his beating heart. It is so reassuring. It reminds me of Cu... A sob catches in her throat...

Gradually, she puts her feet down, standing beside him, still pressed tightly to him. Impulsively, she takes a bar of soap and lathers his chest, then twirls him, repeating it on his back. But that water was icy cold, while this is deliciously Hot ... I can even feel my face heating.

Ragnar steals the bar and returns the favor, dropping ever lower in tantalizing swirls of soap and warmth.

Kneeling, she gathers soapsuds and works her fingers up his feet and legs. Soon they meet in a rising heat of passion, surrounded by water... This is what should have happened with Cu...

Shutting off the water, he snags an oversize bath towel and rolls her into it. Lifting her effortlessly, he carries her to the bed, positioning her in the center.

Looking up, Despina is surprised to see a mirror. She is fascinated with this view of his handiwork. He's beautiful. His muscles are so long and well-shaped. Men probably don't like to be thought of as graceful, but he has the grace of a ballet dancer. Cu never liked being beautiful...

As waves of passion sweep over her, the focus of her attention becomes ever more narrow, and she does not think of the mirror again. They drop into slumber, awakened by the discrete knocking of a maid on the door.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but a fellow at the desk just insists that I bring you this message at once." She passes him a message from Tore.



"Now we've done it! HE'S ALIVE, but not well, in a cave, being tended in horrid conditions. We need to bring him here for healing as soon as possible. Any ideas? -- Eric"



When Ragnar goes to tip her, he realizes the look of horrified shock on Despina's face is not because she has divined the contents of his note, but is caused by his state of dishabille. Although the maid seems to be enjoying her errand, Depsina is panicking.

Ducking into her room, Despina comes up with his robe and a purse.

"Your HIGHNESS, I have no idea what the customary rate is. Would you care to pick out what you'd like to give her? In addition to the peep show, I mean. I am assuming some sort of gratuity is commonplace in situations like this. Well, that's not what I really mean. I've never been in a situation QUITE like this before. Oh, PLEASE say something. I'm all flustered by being caught out."

Passing a bill to the maid, Ragnar shuts the door on her curtsy in the middle of Despina's chatter. Placing his finger on her lips, he examines the pleasantly rumpled Despina. Sliding his finger from her lips to her neck, he rubs slowly, sensually.

Despina is still rattled. "Oh, did we sleep through your business? Is that from the Queen? Is she very irate?"

"The maid will be VERY discrete."

"Why did she call you 'Your Highness'?"

"This is the ROYAL suite, no?"

"Discrete?"

"Although you must be the only person on the planet who would actually think we'd be sleeping in separate rooms. Even if we had, nobody ELSE would believe it." He leans his forehead against hers, his lips nibbling on her nose.

"But your dress, er, lack of..." His tongue dives deep into her mouth, pushing her words aside.

Finishing a lingering kiss, he leans back until he can see her clearly, his arms wrapped loosely around her. "Was the normal way I sleep, no matter if someone is here with me, or not. What was MORE eyebrow-raising from a servant's point of view was seeing YOU enter the master bedroom, where I habitually stay when I am in Stockholm, then exit with YOUR PURSE and MY ROBE."

"Master bed... Oh, I didn't know!" She wiggles nervously.

"That's okay. I slept there, didn't I?" His tone is decidedly cocky.

Suddenly becoming aware of what her wiggling is causing, her eyes widen. "You intended to all along?"

His hearty laugh almost covers the sound of knocking.

"This seems to be a busy place this morning. Would you at least put on the robe this time before you answer?" she whispers nervously.

Releasing the ties to the front of her robe and donning his own in one smooth motion, Ragnar opens the door without checking to see if Despina has had enough time to rearrange herself, to see Mr. Paterson. Despina's face goes bright scarlet.

Well, HE'LL have no idea I am standing in the doorway of the master bedroom!

"Oh, I bet you came for your palm pilot. I'll get it for you."

"No, that's okay. I came to see the suite, mainly." He glances curiously from one bath-robed figure to the other. "I trumped up the excuse of inviting you to accompany us on our sightseeing excursion this afternoon. Your groupies want you back. Things have been much less free and easy for them without you. Nobody else wants to do the offbeat with them. Say, someone said this suit rents for $800 a night. Is that true?"

Despina glances at Ragnar. "Uh, I'm not sure. I'm just a tag along, here."

If I'm going to show him around the suite, I certainly hope Ragnar at least thinks to pull down the covers in another bedroom! What if his clothes are visible? I can't remember where he put them... on the bathroom floor? Do they LOOK as if they were discarded in wild abandon? Can clothing tell tales just by their placement?

Arms crossed, leaning casually in the doorway to another bedroom, Ragnar watches the discussion with an amused smile on his face before he bails her out. "Would you like to follow me?" he asks, shepherding Mr. Paterson into the living room area while waxing lyrical about the attributes of the suite.

Relieved, Despina slips into the bedroom and polices the place, shoving Ragnar's pile of clothing under the bed, putting hers out as though she were going to send them to be cleaned. Should I take the time to dress?

Grabbing fresh clothes, she slips across the open area while Mr. Paterson has his back to her, admiring the view out the window as Ragnar points out salient landmarks.

Quickly, she throws back the covers and rumples the sheets by flopping down and making an indentation in the pillow with her head. Finally, she throws the covers roughly back over the now obviously slept-in bed. Dressing rapidly, she then carries her robe back to "her" room. Well, at least it's not obvious to ME that I'm in the master bedroom... Lack of experience in upscale accommodations on my part? If he really did come to check out the sleeping arrangements, at least nothing condemning is visible.

Entering the living area just as the men turn from the view, Despina continues the opening conversation as though there has been no time lapse at all.

"I'd love to go! Ragnar is here on the Queen's business, so he'd probably welcome being shut of me for a while. What time are you leaving?"

Last updated 11/8/04.

WC: 1339

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Tuesday, November 26th, 2002
7:03 pm - The Conspiracy's Spread (11/8/04 Word count: 455)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/14124.html


The Conspiracy's Spread


Tore calls out to Eric, elated, "I found him! Her husband! He is actually strong enough to register faintly, once I knew to look in Arizona. We need to treat him pronto if we want to save him, however. He's going to need a full reconstruct."

The priest moves over to examine the traces of life essence Tore has isolated. "Yes, that's fantastic. I wish we'd located his mother while she was still living. Can we locate the grave? Even a bone fragment might be enough. Where's Ragnar?"

"Somewhere in Sweden, I think."

"Well, get word to him at once. We need input about retrieval without animosity from the US end of things."

Checking to be sure Eric has really left, Tore contacts the hotel he knows Ragnar spent the night in. Pressing the urgent nature of the message upon the hapless desk clerk, he insists that the note be delivered at once, regardless of the early hour. "Yes, the Royal suit. Immediately, if not sooner. Send his favorite maid up with the note. I'm sure he can think of a way to repay her for the extra time..."

Once he's got that piece of business in hand, he lines up a straight flight to Flagstaff for the royal jet. US customs are not inclined to be sticky, in light of the recent international debate over the ultimate fate of the Indian children. Once that chore is over, he lines up two suitable nurses to shepherd the children through the intricacies of international travel. The queen's foresight in lining up passports for them on an emergency basis is about to pay off. Deciding to ship one of the two horses that roam the range at will, but belong to Despina (who entrusted their care to Cu in one of her much debated marriages to him), he authorizes a false floor that will really contain Cu, or what's left of him.

Checking with Egil, the Viking agent the Queen sent to Arizona to arrange for the passport applications and photos of the children, Tore sends the exact location of Cu's aura via geostationary orbit. He describes the false bottom the horse stall is to have, and leaves no doubt that the man will forfeit his life if Cu is NOT in there when it arrives. He leaves it to his discretion what horse to bring.

When he learns later that day of the canyon's inaccessibility where Cu's body rests, he authorizes a helicopter to ferry it out. He hates to hire someone not of Norwegian blood to do it, but he has no choice. He's well aware of the American foundation hidden in Mountain Fastness trying to trace their work, beat them to a true-breeding line.

Last updated 11/11/04.

Word count: 455
Reading Level:7.0

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12:36 am - "Get A Good Night's Sleep." (1/5/03; WC: 2652)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/9912.html


"Get A Good Night's Sleep."


Despina's eyes grow heavy. Setting the palm pilot carefully on the nightstand, she climbs beneath a veritable mountain of covers, even though it is summer. She drops off at once... and DREAMS...She is no longer in Sweden. She is in Arizona, in her hot adobe hovel with the odd T shaped design and no doors. She is lying, sacred a tarantula or scorpion will work its way under her mosquito netting. She is still overheated. Cu... Cu... Cu... CU!


Despina jerks awake, sweating. She arises and walks into the cool night behind her hovel. She shivers. As she rounds the corner of her hovel, Paul Peter's jeep headlights pin her to the wall, an elongated shadow beheaded by the roof. Probably coming back from Broken Lance, drunk again. She shivers, her lip curled in disgust. What did I ever see in him, anyway?

"Why ya traipsin' round in the cold in that skimpy thing at this hour of the morning? Ya sick, or somptin'?" Paul Peter slurs at her.

"I woke up."

"Nightmare?"

"That's for sure!" She shivers again.

"Can ya remember it?" The slurring is gone.

He's interested. He'll worry it like a dog with a bone. Better here and now than around the campfire with a wider audience.

"'They' came for Cu again; the ones he used to work for. The man who killed his wife in cold blood." Her expressive fingers add the quotation marks around "they". Their grotesque shadow leaps around on the wall.

Paul Peter kills the spotlight effect, patting the seat beside him. "Sit."

She obeys bonelessly. "All us White Eyes were out there, around the campfire. You, Jacques, Bruno and Horst were on the up wind side, and my log and I were braving the smoke. We were, however, bug free, I do have to admit."

She shivers again.

"Go on," Paul Peter encourages.

"Cu slipped in, like he does, draping himself languidly on the other end of my log, careful not to touch me."

"That hardly constitutes a nightmare. Maybe that's just being prudent."

"Shut up! I'm still scene setting. I have to tell it my way. I'm in no rush to relive the ENDING!"

Reaching behind him, he drags his jacket out and tosses it into her lap. "I don't want it said I caused your death from cold."

Gratefully, she drapes it over her bare legs. "There were strange rustlings and thumpings in the desert, occasional metallic clanks, but we ignored them, thinking, I suppose, that some of the children were on the prowl instead of in bed."

"But...?" he encourages.

"But instead, as Cu arose, a shot rang out. He spun around, half falling. I saw a gaping hole in his side, blood gushing, before he clamped his hand over it. Low to the ground, he disappeared into the desert."

"Geeze. What an imagination. I bet you have a good 'President Kennedy Conspiracy' theory, too."

"Did you know he was sent to prison after they shot his wife?"

"What? No, he came back here, and refused to enter the United States unless it was to help a tribesman, refused to speak English, and banned its use on the entire reservation."

"Oh, the vow the sheriff spoke of." She pauses, a confused look on her face. Maybe that tidbit was from another dream. I can't remember now, with the dream so fresh. "Different dream, maybe."

"Let's just hear 'em one at a time."

"We got the guy tied up, and the old women beat him with one of the kid's cudgels. Everyone else was out hunting for Cu. Instead, we found a second rifleman, and subdued him, too. Someone called the sheriff, who couldn't come out without a tribal leader's invitation. They all got silent until YOU convinced them that 'they' might get Cu and finish him off while we were looking for him.

"One of the kids found a tractor trailer sans cab, locked from the inside, with satellite dishes all over it. They overpowered the guard outside, but the guy inside wouldn't open up. Miguel suggested smoking him out, and the whole thing went up in flames, incinerating him. The screams echoed all over the area."

Paul Peter shivers. "Ugh. What a way to go."

"Want your coat back?"

"Nah, I'm not really cold. That was an emotional shiver."

Empathy. He's doing it again. In the dark, he gets almost human. He acts like he cares about people and things. The cold-hearted 'SOB' facade slips.

"Two more gunman were surrounded by kids wielding cudgels. The men were loath to shoot children so young."

"Big of them."

"Nobody came across Cu. Gradually, everyone returned to the fireside. The sheriff and his deputies took the men off to jail, refusing them the customary phone call. He was afraid they were well-connected in the government, and would be sprung immediately, so he surreptitiously ripped the phone cord from the socket on the dispatcher's desk,then claimed an equipment failure."

"What about Cu? If those guys rotted in jail, it would be called 'getting their just desserts' in most people's minds."

"Sarita put her hand in mine and looking up trustingly, asked, 'Where's my daddy?'"

"I started to say, 'I don't know, honey,' but HIS MOTHER spoke, instead."

"Oh, no, not the lady in the deserted cave again." His shiver is eloquent.

"Yes. She said, 'He's in a dried out water hole, buried to the neck in sand' and sent a vision of the spot, but it was not a place I recognized.

"Cu's brother, sober for once, took my other hand and said, 'Describe her sending.'

"That was weird, as I had not told anyone the vision even existed, but I did speak in a strange voice, with accents I would normally never give words.

"'Look south. How are the hills shaped?'

"I turned my entire body to the south and strained to see. 'Two low humps, then one high one with a sheer cliff to the west.'

"'I know it. That's the dry water hole in the desert in front of Camel's Hump.'

"Keeping hold of my hand, he started walking rapidly back to the hovels. Sarita still had my other hand, and Alberto had her other hand. He ran to keep up with Tomás's stride.

"Everyone came en mass with us. Nobody argued, nobody doubted. It was amazing. We piled into Baby Blue Ram, the four of us who were holding hands crammed into the front seat. Tomás drove without so much of a 'by your leave' to me.

"I'd never seen him be commanding the way Cu can be before. It's a shame he doesn't stay sober more often. He has real leadership potential, not just inherited power."

"The dream! You're driving me crazy with all this slow detail."

"Rooster tails of dust from all over converged on the water hole. How do the ones not at the campfire know where we're heading?

"'We're LOSING HIM!' I shouted.

"Tomás slammed on the brakes, dragging me and those still holding my hand out of the truck beneath the steering wheel.

"'Lie down.'

"'Here, in the desert?'

"He didn't answer, just lay down, jerking me down nearly on top of him. Sarita never dropped my hand. She arranged herself to comfortably lie, with room for Alberto still holding HER hand, beside her.

"'To me' Tomás bellowed, never raising his head.

"The pickups converged and emptied. Juan leaped from the bed of Baby Blue Ram and lay perpendicular to Sarita and Alberto, one hand on my ankle, the other on hers, his legs over Alberto's. Tribesmen and women lay down, all holding hands or ankles, forming a huge mosaic of intertwined flesh. The doctor and you other teachers came up.

"'Come on. Touch someone!' you shouted, lying down.

"The doctor grabbed Cheryl's ankle, and lay. Mystified, Bruno and Horst lay nearby, touching each other and the doctor.

"'I see him' the doctor shouted in amazement. 'He's lost a lot of blood.'

"'Despina, send our blood to him,' Tomás commanded.

"'I don't know how,' I started to say, but before I got past 'I', I DID know how. I patterned the hookup after a heart bypass machine, presumably from the doctor's memories.

"I pulled his tainted blood, full of poison, into us, spreading it out into the waiting tribesmen. It burned so badly when I first started, I nearly passed out.

"'Not so much at once. If we lose you, he's dead,' Tomás's words sounded far off. I realized my mind was with Cu's.

"Nobody else talked. We lay like that all night, but nobody felt cold. Nobody got hungry, or thirsty, or needed to go to the bathroom. Not one single person in that whole mass. Occasional moans were heard. Our blood sang painfully through our bodies, tracing fiery trails through our veins.

"Gradually, the pain lessened. I nodded off, as did those around me. I roused when the sun lit the tips of the humps of the camel's back to the south.

"You, the doctor, and Tomás arose. You stood, looking around.

"'This way,' Tomás said, leading you and the doctor off to the west to a little depression lined with dead sage brush.

"Slowly, other tribes-members awoke and staggered to their feet. Many retched. I felt like it, but counteracted it by holding very still. Sarita and Juan were still clamped to me tightly.

"Looking down, I noticed that Sarita's hand was holding so tightly that her knuckles were pale. Alberto's face was streaked with tears.

"As I looked at him, he said, 'Is my daddy still alive?' His eyes were squeezed shut.

"I started to say, I intended to say, 'I don't know,' but what came out was, 'Of course. We gave him our blood. We took his pain.'

"That bugs me. I was so SURE that it was true, but I have no idea how I knew.

"You dashed up, all out of breath, nodding toward Baby Blue Ram, saying, 'Are the keys in it?'

"I wasn't driving; I wasn't paying any attention. I had NO IDEA if they were there, or not, but I said, again with that calm assurance that my words were true, 'Yes.'

"I started to get up. It was hard, as Juan and Sarita struggled up with me, and Alberto, whimpering, wanted to be held. We all crammed into the cab, Alberto on my lap.

"The men were digging Cu out of sand up to his neck with their bare hands. I stared. How did he get himself totally buried in sand when he was alone, I thought. I'm POSITIVE I didn't speak aloud, but Juan cocked his head at me in that superior way he has, and said, 'Don't you remember? YOU did it; it was YOUR idea, to stem the flow of blood, to pack the wound.' He was incredulous that I didn't KNOW this. Once he said it, I KNEW that he was right.

"Someone noticed that my gardening shovel was still in Baby Blue Ram's bed. The work went faster, then, but whenever they got close to his body, only delicate fingers were used.

"Soon, he was stretched out on the sand. From there, the doctor supervised placing him in the pickup bed. He climbed in beside him, then limited the number attempting to join him. You set off, driving very slowly and carefully, trying to avoid jiggling the truck when there was no road, not even a bad one.

"Once back to the hospital, you drove right into the ambulance bay. Someone got a gurney, and Cu was rolled onto it. A nurse (which the hospital DOES NOT HAVE) showed up and cleaned out the wound while the doctor scrubbed as if he were planning to operate on a clean wound that had not spent the night packed in sand from a highly polluted ex-water hole.

"'Hold this,' he commanded, handing me Cu's hand.

"I walked beside the gurney as it was rolled into the operating room. Sarita was still attached to my other hand, and Alberto to her other hand. Juan draped an arm over my shoulders and held out his other hand to another Indian. Thus went our human chain, until everyone who was hooked up last night was again in touch. New people joined as it snaked its way to the road. I could FEEL each new addition, access their memories. I did not. I focused on Cu and the doctor, wishing I could touch him, but he was on the other side of the table.

"Suddenly, Alberto dropped to the floor, and, grabbing my ankle, reached his legs under the gurney until he came in contact with the doctor's leg.

"'Remueve su calcetina' Juan commanded the nurse.

"Unhesitatingly, she removed the doctor's shoe and sock, then replaced the shoe, not normally a command an operating room nurse would receive, much less know how to obey. Must be an Indian, I thought. Unbidden, the memory of who her mother was, her father, and when she received the sending that was strong enough that she actually came home popped into my mind. Shaking my head, I refocused on Cu. This power was scary. Anything I idly wondered about appeared in my mind. It was like eavesdropping on someone's private conversation, only more so. Thoughts are even more private and should be sacrosanct.

"Bruno's voice chides me. 'Their culture is cooperative. Is not imposition. Don't worry so much. We need that you to stay focused.'

"I stared down at Cu's beloved face. No help for it. Everyone is now as sure how I feel about him as I am of any of their thoughts I happened to express a desire to know. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve!

"'This is supposed to be NEWS?' sneered Juan. 'We've been reading THAT message loud and clear ever since you came.'

"'Nobody's jealous of you any more,' sent Tomás. Cheryl echoed his thoughts, as did many, many others. Acceptance and warmth flooded me.

"The clanking of the bullet in the metal pan startled me so much I almost broke the connection.

"'Steady, there. I've become a GREAT believer in the powers of sympathetic medicine. I'm not quite ready to declare him no longer in need of the support he's receiving. After seeing this wound up close, I can say definitively, without the slightest trace of doubt in my mind, 'He should be dead.' He's all ripped to shreds inside. He shouldn't have been able to REACH that water hole, or even leave the campfire.'

"I was stunned. The shock awakened me from the dream."

For once, Paul Peter is speechless. Handing the jacket back to him, I climb out and re-enter my hovel. It is a long time before I hear his steps going toward his hovel. A long time.


It is too much, more than Despina can handle at present. She begins to sob, softly at first, then with more volume. I'm out of control. I'm in a foreign country, while Cu is being buried, and I don't even know where. She is crying now in earnest.

A soft, respectful knock sounds at the door. "Despina, are you okay?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Oh, I don't know." Her voice is so thick with tears it is barely understandable.

"Pina, can you open the door?"

"I-i-it's not locked..." She hiccups.

"May I come in?"

"I don't want you to see me crying again. That's all I seem to do lately."

"Maybe you need my handkerchief again."

"O-O-Okay."

He opens the door and sweeps her into his arms.

"I had a dream," she hiccups.

"A nightmare?"

"Yes, one I've had before."

"Can you remember it?"

In tearful gurgles, she relives Cu's wounding and saving, but this time, Ragnar is there, a warm fuzzy... She drifts off, eventually, still in his arms.

Last updated 1/5/03.

WC: 2652

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Monday, November 25th, 2002
10:52 pm - On To Stockholm (1/15/03; WC: 1008)


http://www.livejournal.com/users/blondbomb/9604.html


On To Stockholm


True to his word, Svein meets her plane, obviously bewildered and dying to hear the story of why she turned down the Queen's invitation to stay in Norway.

Dream on, Svein. No way am I confiding in you about my recent escapade with Ragnar.

Ragnar does not head off on his "official business". "Since I can't do anything until tomorrow, I'd be pleased if you'd allow me to escort you."

Despina, who has relaxed somewhat in his presence during the short flight, unaware how he's fiddled with the seating to get next to her, nods stiffly.

As they sit alone at a table for two in a cozy club Ragnar knows, he confides, "The Queen wants to bring your two children over. She's not happy with the care they're getting."

Despina jumps. "How does she know what kind of care they're receiving?"

"Ah, she's not an absolute monarch, but she IS powerful. You, for better or for worse, have caught her eye, and the country is outraged that you gave up the children."

"Don't they understand that they were never 'mine' to claim in the first place? Whenever Cu was called out to deal with some tribal problem, which was ALL THE TIME, it seemed to me, Cheryl took care of them."

"Somewhere I read that Alberto moved himself in with you."

"What? A newspaper published THAT? However did they find that out? The little scamp used to slip out, walk to my hovel, which was doorless, crawl under my chaise lounge, and then start talking to me just as I was nearly asleep. Then I'd have to get up and take him back, wake up Cheryl... Sarita would come out with her huge eyes, silently taking in her brother's position in my arms... Ah, I sure do miss them!"

"I wasn't sure that tale wasn't the invention of some over-imaginative paparazzi."

Ragnar cheerfully escorts her to what is obvoiusly a budget hotel frequented by tours, but not natives. As they are standing at the desk, Mr. Paterson and Jane enter.

"Despina! We didn't think we'd see you again on this trip! What on earth pried you loose from the clutches of the Queen?"

Smiling warmly, they all hug. Soon a troop of students is hugging her, sending shy smiles Ragnar's way. Evelyn finally comes in with her husband Joe, squealing with delight. "Despina! How'd you get here?" She stops short and eyes Ragnar speculatively.

Mark and Suzanne enter, holding hands. "Oh, I see a romance has budded!" teases Despina.

"Where do you think we got the idea?" Mark parries in return, looking inquisitively at Ragnar. "Did you REALLY spend the night in a mountain stronghold alone with two men like that Brandon Gannon guy suggested on TV?"

Startled, Despina half turns toward Ragnar. "Would they REALLY suggest THAT on national television? This REALLY isn't Kansas, Toto."

"Toto?"

"Dorothy's dog in The Wizard of Oz."

"Oh, where the hurricane blows her to a strange land?"

"Almost. Tornado. But would national television here suggest..."

"In a heartbeat, Pina. You are a 'hot item'. Everything you do, whomever you are with, even what you are thinking, if they can figure it out, are fodder for the droves of paparazzi. Our favorite reporter is the first one who interviewed you at that cafe shaped like a boat in Denmark."

"I noticed him making snide remarks to me in the background as I talked with the fellow with the thick accent at the Queen's fountain."

"Well, Pina," insists Mark. "Are you avoiding answering my question, or what?"

"Well, technically, I suppose I did. I had a room in an ancient cave, as did they, presumably, although I didn't see where they stayed. I imagine mine used to be a monk's cell... the bed was rough-hewn planks with hemp ropes and a feather bolster thrown on top, barely wide enough for my body. No electricity, no running water, a HOLE in the floor for bathroom facilities! Yet, I never slept better, and woke fully rested for the first time on the entire trip."

The group around her has been growing steadily. She unconsciously raises her voice so all can hear.

In a voice filled with sympathy, Evelyn inquires, "I suppose you saw the papers."

"Yes," Despina pushes past the lump in her throat. Everyone waits patiently. "How long will it take to get them passports?"

Ragnar nearly blurts out that they already have them, as they went to Mexico for Christmas last year, but bits back his comment, since he's at a loss to think of some way to explain how he knows.

When Despina tries to pick up her room key, it seems that there has unaccountably been a misunderstanding, and the room Svein reserved that morning has been letted.

Picking up her bags, Ragnar leads her off. "No problem. I'll just change mine to double occupancy at the Grand."

Despina hangs back, rooted to the spot, a look of horror and dread on her face.

"Pina, the Queen put me in HER ROYAL suite. It has many rooms. Nothing is going to happen that you don't want to have happen. AND, you will be able to open and close this door yourself, and lock it on the inside."

Mark's eyes widen at these intimate details.

Staring into Ragnar's eyes, Despina thinks, He's certainly got the Prince Charming routine down pat. He's an awfully well-educated, polished stable boy. "You never did say what your errand for the Queen was."

"No, I didn't. Generally, when one says, 'Queen's business", people know not to ask. Discretion is a necessary quality for anyone who wishes to curry and retain royal favor."

Mark is hanging on every word.

"Sort of like working as an undercover cop, CIA, or FBI agent?"

"Oh, nothing near so sinister, I'm sure," Ragnar says, opening the door.

As Despina passes Mr. Paterson, he offers her his palm pilot. "For that long, dull evening you have ahead." He gives her a droll wink and a nudge with his elbow.

Last updated 1/15/03.

WC: 1008

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12:06 am - Gotta Love This Quote


A blank sheet of paper.
    --Ernest Hemingway, when asked what the most frightening thing he ever encountered was.

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