rthstewart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rthstewart) wrote2013-08-11 04:02 pm
rthstewart) wrote2013-08-11 04:02 pm
Entry tags:
H&M in progress
Well at long last, I've picked up H&M again. The digressions where everybody lives, nobody dies, or everybody lives, nobody leaves, have been oodles of fun, but have seriously derailed me. I've been having huge problems mustering the courage to go where AW is supposed to go and, well, I'm sorry. Really. I'll finish it but I decided to tackle the easier H&M first.
That's complicated too, however. The end of that story was written before I started it. I love this ending. I love it to pieces. Bits of that ending are strew all over several stories and all sorts of threads would be sewn up neatly. The end, however, does not fit, anymore. I'll excerpt the first part of it down below but if you are reading H&M and still care, or remember, you'll see immediately that where Edmund is, emotionally, in the story now, is WAY different from the piece below. In terms of character development, I've joss'd myself completely.
Delaying the inevitable re-write, I had tried to do an M rated short fic bit wherein Harold and Morgan try out Illustration 4 of Volume 1. I found that I can no longer write smut and sexy times. It ended in a disastrous 1300 words that I managed to exert sufficient self control to not delete completely. Oh gosh, I suck so much at it. I wrote Maenad. There was a time when I wrote a fair bit of smut. Now? I cringe. I could not turn off my filter and internal censor, that OMG what will people think of me! (Really? Now? Ruth, what is your problem? After all this time? After ALL THOSE WORDS? I have no idea).
So, back to H&M it is and I'm limping along. If you have any thoughts on H&M, what you want, what you want to see resolved, what you are hoping for, do drop a line or a review. It is tremendously helpful to me and inspirational.
A little bit from 2009 now thoroughly joss'd but I still love it.
ooOOoo
Sometimes, Morgan really did get it right. Lady Sharra of the Stormness Head Keep, was not objectionable. She was pretty, did not prattle, and was capable of conversation on a variety of topics. She had assumed responsibility on the Archenland side for maintenance of the chicken venture Peter had formed several years ago and had come to Morgan’s attention through the hearty recommendation of Constance Meryl. When the Lady arrived at Cair Paravel on Morgan’s invitation, Lune and Constance had both sent commending letters.
It was a routine thing – an exploratory, first visit. Lady Sharra would learn of Narnia and Edmund would learn more of her and if things developed, as it seemed they could, they would proceed to the negotiation of a more formal contract, which Morgan had insisted she wanted a hand in drafting.
Peter was the one who usually bore the brunt of all this courting nonsense. Oddly, his brother had professed no interest at all in this particular mission and indeed had firmly stated that as Morgan had extended the invitation, it was Edmund’s problem. Not that Lady Sharra was a problem; not at all.
No, it was everything and everyone else that seemed out of sorts.
He had not seen Morgan since yesterday after supper. It had been informal and then a little singing, music and some dancing with Lady Sharra and some of the Fauns and Dryads. Morgan had not joined – this was typical, but Edmund had been surprised to learn that she was not gambling with Murder. When the festivities ended, he expected she would be in his bed, but was not there, either.
The morning began poorly. Morgan was still not in his bed and that was odd because the morning before she had been hoping for a report of his reactions to Lady Sharra, which were favorable. So, he quit his room and met Jalur in the hall.
“Good morning, my good Guard!”
Jalur growled, sounding surly even for a Tiger, which was certainly notable.
“Are you well?” Edmund asked, concerned.
“No,” the Tiger replied, curling his lip in a signal that Edmund should not probe any further.
Edmund looked up and down the hall. “Is Lady Willa about for my security briefing?”
“No.”
“No?” Edmund repeated.
“She made the report to Queen Susan, instead,” Jalur grumbled.
“Oh, I see.” Actually, he did not. Edmund could not recall that ever occurring before. Usually the Head of the Mischief of the Narnian Intelligence Service made her report to both of them.
“Shall we to breakfast then?”
Jalur laid his ears flat and turned his back on his King. Edmund followed his grumpy Tiger down the stairs.
Only Lucy was still in the breakfast room, dressed in riding clothes, and she rose from her seat as soon as Edmund entered.
“Good morning, Sister!”
“Brother,” Lucy replied curtly, quickly drinking the last of her tea. It seemed she set the cup down with unnecessary force.
“And good morning to you, Briony!” Edmund said politely.
In greeting, Lucy’s amiable Wolf Guard curled her lip to reveal a canine tooth and Edmund saw her fur rise.
By Aslan, the Guards were out sorts today.
“Will you stay?” Edmund asked Lucy. “It seems everyone has already dined?”
“No, and yes,” Lucy replied. “Good day, Jalur, and no one shall blame you for any harm done.”
With that ambiguous remark, Lucy flounced out, leaving Edmund alone with empty breakfast dishes, a basket of dry bread, the dregs of the tea in the pot, and a foul-tempered Tiger.
He waited.
And waited longer still. Edmund absently rubbed his bruised shin. At least five times in the last two days someone had accidentally shoved a chair or a bench into him. He chewed a piece of bread, found a clean cup from the sideboard and poured himself the last of the bitter tea.
Eventually, he heard the clip of hooves on marble.
“Good morning, Mr. Hoberry” he called as the Faun entered the breakfast room – with an empty tray.
“Good morning, Sire,” Mr. Hoberry replied.
By the Lion, what was wrong with everyone? Mr. Hoberry knew he disliked that title.
The Faun began clearing the dishes.
“Did I miss breakfast?” Edmund asked, when it seemed that nothing was to be coming.
“You did, Sire.”
And with that extraordinary statement, Mr. Hoberry swept out of the room.
So, no Morgan, no security briefing, no breakfast, no morning correspondence, no proper title, and a Tiger so sour he would curdle milk.
Edmund dumped the rest of the sugar into his tea to make it more palatable. “Jalur, has there been some catastrophe that has befallen Narnia of which no one has informed me?”
“It depends upon the definition,” the Tiger said eventually.
“War, invasion, pestilence, earthquake, flood, fire, death?”
“No.”
“Then what is the nature of the catastrophe?”
Jalur remained sullenly silent.
Well, it was time to remedy the ever growing list of the Things That Seemed Very Wrong. He would begin with finding Morgan. And the first place to look for her was the Tower Library.
When Edmund entered the Library, he was startled by a woman sitting at Morgan’s desk. But it was not Morgan.
Lady Sharra stood and dipped to a shallow curtsey.
“Your Majesty, Sir Jalur.”
It was unsettling to see someone else in Morgan’s place. Jalur did not like it all. His ears were pinned flat and his fur was rising. Edmund was surprised to realize that Lady Sharra’s claiming of Morgan’s space provoked a similar feeling within himself. Lady Sharra was not to blame, of course. She did not know any better, but he did not like to see Morgan’s place … usurped.
“Excuse me, Lady,” Edmund replied, wanting to deflect attention from his rude Guard. “I was looking for AD Morgan.”
Her face brightened. “Ah. Well, as you can see, Morgan is not here.” Lady Sharra gestured about the room.
Morgan. No title. Again, she was not being presumptuous. Lady Sharra and Morgan were associates, even friends.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Edmund managed. “I shall be…”
“King Edmund!” Lady Sharra interrupted. “While I do not wish to keep you from your self-appointed mission, might I have a word?”
He did not wish to delay. Between Jalur’s foul behavior and his own disquiet at seeing Lady Sharra where Morgan should be, Edmund was anxious to quit the scene as soon as politeness permitted. On the other paw, if he was rude to Lady Sharra, he would hear of it from Morgan, and others besides. Edmund could curb his rising impatience, for a short while.
“Of course, Lady Sharra. How might I be of service?”
“Please, would you sit?”
He sat at his own desk, feeling a wide expanse between them and the sense of oddity increased. He and Morgan had sat across from one another thus for years and this situation did not feel comfortable. Edmund leaned back in his seat, increasing the distance further and returned her gaze with what he hoped was polite interest, rather than the mild annoyance he felt.
She glanced at Jalur and sat again. Lady Sharra had certainly seen large Narnian carnivores in Archenland; she knew enough of Great Cat mannerisms to perceive the Tiger’s extreme discontent. Her look at Jalur was very sympathetic and not at all fearful.
She rested her hands in her lap and faced him with a very firm expression.
“King Edmund, if I may speak frankly?”
“Of course.” Regardless of his words, he felt significant trepidation, for in his experience, such conversations never went well. Still, Edmund already classified Lady Sharra in a category of not-silly women occupied by his sisters, Morgan, and few select others. Whatever Lady Sharra had to say was likely to be something he needed to hear.
“I do wish to thank you for your hospitality. You and your Royal Brother and Sisters have been kind and attentive hosts, more even than I had expected. However…”
She let the warning linger and looked at Jalur. His ears were flat against his head and his eyes were narrow slits.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“However, I must ask, for all your vaunted and deserved reputation for intelligence and wit, are you truly such an idiot to not perceive what you already have?”
Edmund stared at her. It was so impertinent, so … no one called him an idiot! Except Susan. Or Lucy. Peter, sometimes, though usually he just made the point with a backslap so hard it sent him sprawling. Morgan, of course… And Leszi, though that was usually more curse-ladened and accompanied by a thrashing on the Training Ground…
He expected Jalur to voice a complaint at hearing him being spoken so. The Tiger was staring at Lady Sharra, but his rumble was of approval, not correction.
Lady Sharra looked again to Jalur. “Sir Tiger, thank you for permitting me to speak so to your Monarch. By your leave, might I continue, as I believe you and I are of the same mind about the significance of a relationship of which your King is apparently unaware?”
Relationship? What was she talking about?
Jalur lashed his tail once. “Please do so, wise Lady.”
With a nod, Lady Sharra turned back to him. “You are confused, King Edmund and my apologies for that. You see, I was very confused when Morgan asked me to come to Narnia to meet you. I was certainly aware of the long association between the two of you and, in a certain light, the invitation might be unseemly by some standards.”
“You misunderstand, Lady!”
Jalur growled and Edmund waved a hand at the surly Tiger. “That is enough!” he barked. Taking a breath, he wanted to regain control of this very disturbing conversation, but into the pause, Lady Sharra continued.
“With all due respect, King Edmund, I believe it is you who misunderstand.”
Edmund would have vociferously taken issue with such a characterization; Jalur, however, chuffed his agreement.
“Do not be put off by his protests, Lady Sharra,” Jalur replied. “Please continue, for you speak a great deal of sense.”
“Thank you, Sir Tiger and I do admire your restraint.”
“This is truly uncalled for,” Edmund began only to be interrupted by his own Guard.
“Let the Lady speak, Sire.”
He glowered at the Tiger and Lady Sharra went on. “Though I was confused as to the nature of the invitation Morgan extended, I greatly admire her acumen and a visit to Narnia in the summer is not an opportunity to be spurned. I wondered if I might be a pawn in some court game, but Morgan was not a woman who would do such things.”
“No, not at all,” Edmund replied firmly, now feeling irritation rise on Morgan’s behalf. “She is honest almost to a fault.”
“Precisely,” Lady Sharra said, nodding her agreement. “Nevertheless, since arriving, my perplexity has grown and it is only in thinking on it and observing the behavior of you, Morgan, and those around you that I have perceived the true state of affairs. There is plainly a role for me to play here, though not the one expected.”
“And just what is that?” he asked frostily. Edmund was struck by how the long suffering look in Jalur’s expression was nearly identical to that of Lady Sharra.
ooOOoo
That's complicated too, however. The end of that story was written before I started it. I love this ending. I love it to pieces. Bits of that ending are strew all over several stories and all sorts of threads would be sewn up neatly. The end, however, does not fit, anymore. I'll excerpt the first part of it down below but if you are reading H&M and still care, or remember, you'll see immediately that where Edmund is, emotionally, in the story now, is WAY different from the piece below. In terms of character development, I've joss'd myself completely.
Delaying the inevitable re-write, I had tried to do an M rated short fic bit wherein Harold and Morgan try out Illustration 4 of Volume 1. I found that I can no longer write smut and sexy times. It ended in a disastrous 1300 words that I managed to exert sufficient self control to not delete completely. Oh gosh, I suck so much at it. I wrote Maenad. There was a time when I wrote a fair bit of smut. Now? I cringe. I could not turn off my filter and internal censor, that OMG what will people think of me! (Really? Now? Ruth, what is your problem? After all this time? After ALL THOSE WORDS? I have no idea).
So, back to H&M it is and I'm limping along. If you have any thoughts on H&M, what you want, what you want to see resolved, what you are hoping for, do drop a line or a review. It is tremendously helpful to me and inspirational.
A little bit from 2009 now thoroughly joss'd but I still love it.
ooOOoo
Sometimes, Morgan really did get it right. Lady Sharra of the Stormness Head Keep, was not objectionable. She was pretty, did not prattle, and was capable of conversation on a variety of topics. She had assumed responsibility on the Archenland side for maintenance of the chicken venture Peter had formed several years ago and had come to Morgan’s attention through the hearty recommendation of Constance Meryl. When the Lady arrived at Cair Paravel on Morgan’s invitation, Lune and Constance had both sent commending letters.
It was a routine thing – an exploratory, first visit. Lady Sharra would learn of Narnia and Edmund would learn more of her and if things developed, as it seemed they could, they would proceed to the negotiation of a more formal contract, which Morgan had insisted she wanted a hand in drafting.
Peter was the one who usually bore the brunt of all this courting nonsense. Oddly, his brother had professed no interest at all in this particular mission and indeed had firmly stated that as Morgan had extended the invitation, it was Edmund’s problem. Not that Lady Sharra was a problem; not at all.
No, it was everything and everyone else that seemed out of sorts.
He had not seen Morgan since yesterday after supper. It had been informal and then a little singing, music and some dancing with Lady Sharra and some of the Fauns and Dryads. Morgan had not joined – this was typical, but Edmund had been surprised to learn that she was not gambling with Murder. When the festivities ended, he expected she would be in his bed, but was not there, either.
The morning began poorly. Morgan was still not in his bed and that was odd because the morning before she had been hoping for a report of his reactions to Lady Sharra, which were favorable. So, he quit his room and met Jalur in the hall.
“Good morning, my good Guard!”
Jalur growled, sounding surly even for a Tiger, which was certainly notable.
“Are you well?” Edmund asked, concerned.
“No,” the Tiger replied, curling his lip in a signal that Edmund should not probe any further.
Edmund looked up and down the hall. “Is Lady Willa about for my security briefing?”
“No.”
“No?” Edmund repeated.
“She made the report to Queen Susan, instead,” Jalur grumbled.
“Oh, I see.” Actually, he did not. Edmund could not recall that ever occurring before. Usually the Head of the Mischief of the Narnian Intelligence Service made her report to both of them.
“Shall we to breakfast then?”
Jalur laid his ears flat and turned his back on his King. Edmund followed his grumpy Tiger down the stairs.
Only Lucy was still in the breakfast room, dressed in riding clothes, and she rose from her seat as soon as Edmund entered.
“Good morning, Sister!”
“Brother,” Lucy replied curtly, quickly drinking the last of her tea. It seemed she set the cup down with unnecessary force.
“And good morning to you, Briony!” Edmund said politely.
In greeting, Lucy’s amiable Wolf Guard curled her lip to reveal a canine tooth and Edmund saw her fur rise.
By Aslan, the Guards were out sorts today.
“Will you stay?” Edmund asked Lucy. “It seems everyone has already dined?”
“No, and yes,” Lucy replied. “Good day, Jalur, and no one shall blame you for any harm done.”
With that ambiguous remark, Lucy flounced out, leaving Edmund alone with empty breakfast dishes, a basket of dry bread, the dregs of the tea in the pot, and a foul-tempered Tiger.
He waited.
And waited longer still. Edmund absently rubbed his bruised shin. At least five times in the last two days someone had accidentally shoved a chair or a bench into him. He chewed a piece of bread, found a clean cup from the sideboard and poured himself the last of the bitter tea.
Eventually, he heard the clip of hooves on marble.
“Good morning, Mr. Hoberry” he called as the Faun entered the breakfast room – with an empty tray.
“Good morning, Sire,” Mr. Hoberry replied.
By the Lion, what was wrong with everyone? Mr. Hoberry knew he disliked that title.
The Faun began clearing the dishes.
“Did I miss breakfast?” Edmund asked, when it seemed that nothing was to be coming.
“You did, Sire.”
And with that extraordinary statement, Mr. Hoberry swept out of the room.
So, no Morgan, no security briefing, no breakfast, no morning correspondence, no proper title, and a Tiger so sour he would curdle milk.
Edmund dumped the rest of the sugar into his tea to make it more palatable. “Jalur, has there been some catastrophe that has befallen Narnia of which no one has informed me?”
“It depends upon the definition,” the Tiger said eventually.
“War, invasion, pestilence, earthquake, flood, fire, death?”
“No.”
“Then what is the nature of the catastrophe?”
Jalur remained sullenly silent.
Well, it was time to remedy the ever growing list of the Things That Seemed Very Wrong. He would begin with finding Morgan. And the first place to look for her was the Tower Library.
When Edmund entered the Library, he was startled by a woman sitting at Morgan’s desk. But it was not Morgan.
Lady Sharra stood and dipped to a shallow curtsey.
“Your Majesty, Sir Jalur.”
It was unsettling to see someone else in Morgan’s place. Jalur did not like it all. His ears were pinned flat and his fur was rising. Edmund was surprised to realize that Lady Sharra’s claiming of Morgan’s space provoked a similar feeling within himself. Lady Sharra was not to blame, of course. She did not know any better, but he did not like to see Morgan’s place … usurped.
“Excuse me, Lady,” Edmund replied, wanting to deflect attention from his rude Guard. “I was looking for AD Morgan.”
Her face brightened. “Ah. Well, as you can see, Morgan is not here.” Lady Sharra gestured about the room.
Morgan. No title. Again, she was not being presumptuous. Lady Sharra and Morgan were associates, even friends.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Edmund managed. “I shall be…”
“King Edmund!” Lady Sharra interrupted. “While I do not wish to keep you from your self-appointed mission, might I have a word?”
He did not wish to delay. Between Jalur’s foul behavior and his own disquiet at seeing Lady Sharra where Morgan should be, Edmund was anxious to quit the scene as soon as politeness permitted. On the other paw, if he was rude to Lady Sharra, he would hear of it from Morgan, and others besides. Edmund could curb his rising impatience, for a short while.
“Of course, Lady Sharra. How might I be of service?”
“Please, would you sit?”
He sat at his own desk, feeling a wide expanse between them and the sense of oddity increased. He and Morgan had sat across from one another thus for years and this situation did not feel comfortable. Edmund leaned back in his seat, increasing the distance further and returned her gaze with what he hoped was polite interest, rather than the mild annoyance he felt.
She glanced at Jalur and sat again. Lady Sharra had certainly seen large Narnian carnivores in Archenland; she knew enough of Great Cat mannerisms to perceive the Tiger’s extreme discontent. Her look at Jalur was very sympathetic and not at all fearful.
She rested her hands in her lap and faced him with a very firm expression.
“King Edmund, if I may speak frankly?”
“Of course.” Regardless of his words, he felt significant trepidation, for in his experience, such conversations never went well. Still, Edmund already classified Lady Sharra in a category of not-silly women occupied by his sisters, Morgan, and few select others. Whatever Lady Sharra had to say was likely to be something he needed to hear.
“I do wish to thank you for your hospitality. You and your Royal Brother and Sisters have been kind and attentive hosts, more even than I had expected. However…”
She let the warning linger and looked at Jalur. His ears were flat against his head and his eyes were narrow slits.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“However, I must ask, for all your vaunted and deserved reputation for intelligence and wit, are you truly such an idiot to not perceive what you already have?”
Edmund stared at her. It was so impertinent, so … no one called him an idiot! Except Susan. Or Lucy. Peter, sometimes, though usually he just made the point with a backslap so hard it sent him sprawling. Morgan, of course… And Leszi, though that was usually more curse-ladened and accompanied by a thrashing on the Training Ground…
He expected Jalur to voice a complaint at hearing him being spoken so. The Tiger was staring at Lady Sharra, but his rumble was of approval, not correction.
Lady Sharra looked again to Jalur. “Sir Tiger, thank you for permitting me to speak so to your Monarch. By your leave, might I continue, as I believe you and I are of the same mind about the significance of a relationship of which your King is apparently unaware?”
Relationship? What was she talking about?
Jalur lashed his tail once. “Please do so, wise Lady.”
With a nod, Lady Sharra turned back to him. “You are confused, King Edmund and my apologies for that. You see, I was very confused when Morgan asked me to come to Narnia to meet you. I was certainly aware of the long association between the two of you and, in a certain light, the invitation might be unseemly by some standards.”
“You misunderstand, Lady!”
Jalur growled and Edmund waved a hand at the surly Tiger. “That is enough!” he barked. Taking a breath, he wanted to regain control of this very disturbing conversation, but into the pause, Lady Sharra continued.
“With all due respect, King Edmund, I believe it is you who misunderstand.”
Edmund would have vociferously taken issue with such a characterization; Jalur, however, chuffed his agreement.
“Do not be put off by his protests, Lady Sharra,” Jalur replied. “Please continue, for you speak a great deal of sense.”
“Thank you, Sir Tiger and I do admire your restraint.”
“This is truly uncalled for,” Edmund began only to be interrupted by his own Guard.
“Let the Lady speak, Sire.”
He glowered at the Tiger and Lady Sharra went on. “Though I was confused as to the nature of the invitation Morgan extended, I greatly admire her acumen and a visit to Narnia in the summer is not an opportunity to be spurned. I wondered if I might be a pawn in some court game, but Morgan was not a woman who would do such things.”
“No, not at all,” Edmund replied firmly, now feeling irritation rise on Morgan’s behalf. “She is honest almost to a fault.”
“Precisely,” Lady Sharra said, nodding her agreement. “Nevertheless, since arriving, my perplexity has grown and it is only in thinking on it and observing the behavior of you, Morgan, and those around you that I have perceived the true state of affairs. There is plainly a role for me to play here, though not the one expected.”
“And just what is that?” he asked frostily. Edmund was struck by how the long suffering look in Jalur’s expression was nearly identical to that of Lady Sharra.
ooOOoo