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The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #9

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hello Everyone! Greetings, and I hope you are all well. It’s been a very warm, humid week, but since we are in mid-summer here, it’s to be expected. Good news is that the pool warmed up quick 👍🏼🏊🏼‍♀️. Things here continue to open up from lockdown, thought it appears I will have to wait to play soccer again. I’m hoping for the fall, (please…).

In other news, my incubator has been working overtime, chickens and turkeys have been hatching like crazy! Here’s a dose of fuzzy cuteness…

all of these guys hatched yesterday!

How is your summer (or winter, for my Down Under friends) going? I won’t keep you from it, so let’s continue with the story. Catch you soon!~

When we left Elahna, she was on her way to have breakfast with Daphne Arborea, matron of Scion Arborea. I think it has already been mentioned, but they are kinswomen of the Queen of Eflary, Halesia. We’ll return to following that spectacular floor, shall we?

The red circles led me off the main foyer to the left, out a side door of glass embedded with autumn leaves. It swung wide as I approached, revealing an immaculate arbor of wisteria in full bloom.

wisteria arbor*

The heady fragrance of the flowers and the drone of thousands of giant, yellow and orange bumblebees accompanied me down the lane to a high-walled rose garden.

A rectangle of perfectly manicured boxwood enclosed hundreds of roses, some sprawling artfully over rocks or benches, others blanketing their arbors in a rainbow of monochromes.

Photo by Liana Mikah on Unsplash*

I’m pretty sure I even saw blue roses. Like delphinium blue roses.😮

In the center, an oval stretch of turf held a bright red sofa and a few tea tables with chairs.

A woman, with silvery-blond hair twisted into a long braid that hung over her shoulder, sat at one of the tables. Her sleeveless tunic and leggings were a calm shade of lavender, and her gauzy wrap matched my shirt. She raised her eyes from the scroll in front of her and smiled, but did not stand. I approached the table slowly, wondering if I should bow, but she interrupted my thoughts.

“Ah, hello Elahna. Forgive me for not rising to greet you. I stumbled out in the forest with one of the children and my ankle is painful. Not an opportune time for the Orderly to be out of town. I’m Daphne Arborea. Elements be.” She raised her left palm in greeting as I was becoming accustomed to.

“Elements be. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your wonderful house and helping me to get home.”

“I wish I did have some help to offer you. My niece the queen is asking the Scholars currently in Irillo to provide you with what they know, but alas, I must say that previous Passers have never found a way back. They assimilated into our world and continued living their lives. I apologize for the abrupt news, but it is something you should ponder on your way to Irillo.”

“But please, sit with me. I haven’t eaten yet either and it is mid-morn already. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

Yes, that was upsetting news, and not what I expected to hear. It was very discouraging to think of not ever going home, but then again, part of me was all for it. I wasn’t in the best of places in my life at home, maybe a completely new start would be refreshing. But unnerving too, because I didn’t know any societal norms, or customs of this land. At least when you travel to other countries here on Earth, you can Google it and get ideas of what to expect or look for. I had nothing. NOTHING. Well, I had learned a proper greeting with the palm out thing, and a different word or two, but that was about it. Yeah, I was pretty concerned.

Breakfast was served, and though I saw no servant take note of the beverage preference, two cups for tea and a larger pot accompanied the meal.

*

“How did you do that, I mean, how did they know I wanted tea? You asked me, but no one came after that until the food did.”

“Oh, you must have so many questions!” Daphne laughed a clear, knowing chuckle. “I have a couple of tree dryads who carry messages for me. I can tell you don’t see them, since one is almost sitting on your head right now.”

tree dryad, possibly*

At that, I looked up and around, and perhaps I felt a faint flutter of a tiny breeze on my forehead, but I couldn’t be sure. There were things around me that I couldn’t see… uneasiness rose again.

“Come now, you little mischief-makers. That’s not fair, she can’t see you. Go along and help the bees gather nectar for the hives. You can carry three times as much as they can.” She made a slight shooing motion with her hand, and resumed her attention on our meal and conversation. “How was your night, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you, I did. Though I did have an odd encounter with a young boy that has made me nervous.”

“Oh?”

“Last night on the way to my room after the performance, there was a young boy and a woman in the hall in front of me. The boy looked absolutely terrified of me and cried to his mother something about me taking her with me when I went home. The woman hushed him and hurried him away, but then I found this in my room this morning with the fresh clothes. I suspect the boy must have left it, cause it says the same thing he did last night.” I took the child’s note out of my pocket and held it out to her.

As she read it, I continued, “It made me wonder what a Passer is, and what they may have done to be feared so. If I’m to be blackballed and I have to live here from now on, I need to know what sentiments I may face.”

Her brows pinched slightly and she pocketed the note. “I am very sorry Lignan had an outburst like that in front of you. He is so much more volatile than most Arboreans, because of his Spark blood. You will travel with his matris, my grandautris Ivy, to Irillo in the morn. Lignan is her older child and he is very attached to her, despite being almost of age to declare a House. Rosewood has already chosen him, however, and it will fall to me to direct his attention to his abilities and their applications. I’ll be the villain in that play for sure.”

A contemplative look crossed her fine features and I surmised young Lignan was the source of consternation for the Scion matriarch.

I dug into the gloriously fluffy vegetable omelet on my plate, closing my eyes and savoring the depth of flavor that exploded in my mouth. Vegetables here delivered tastes far beyond the best organics at home, and herbs somehow added layers of flavor to the dishes that made them whole-mouth experiences. I had yet to dislike anything I had consumed, and I know some things I wouldn’t have touched normally had crossed my palate, like mushrooms.

*

I didn’t care, it was all heavenly.

The mini corn muffin was light like a spongecake, and the butter full of rich cream. The orange juice would have been termed a smoothie on Earth, it was so thick, and the color was a true orange, not a watery yellow. It was worth staying here for the food alone!

I opened my eyes to find Daphne watching me with a small, quirked smile, but she didn’t embarrass me by commenting on my reverie.

“To answer your question, Passer is the term we give to people who pass through the ways unknowingly, like you. No one knows how or why it happens, but as I said, none in our history have been able to return from whence they came. Perhaps the Scholars know more, but I would start considering how you can sustain yourself here in our land.”

Well, it appeared that my landscaping and horticulture talents would be useless, if there was a whole family with actual plant magic. It would certainly take some thought.

“What other kinds of magic are there? Or rather, what would someone without magic be able to do?”

Daphne clearly pondered that thought as she buttered her corn muffin.

“There are many people who do not have magic here. The vitae can only be drawn on by those with Elemental blood. However, we are charged with maintaining the Balance, so we work with and aid the Ungifted. I’m sure you can find a place in a trade, perhaps even in Maarran.”

“What is Maarran?”

“I do suppose you haven’t had time for geography, have you?” I nodded to that, as my mouth was full. “This continent of Huphaea is divided into two countries, Eflary originated as the elven land, and Maarran as the human land. Each still has rulers of the Elemental Families native to that country, but they are by no means purebloods. We all coexist and cohabitate freely and for the good of the Balance.”

“I see. How do you know where someone is from?”

“Does that matter? Well, yes, sometimes it might, I suppose,” she answered her own question and continued on.

“House and Scion names indicate lineage in Elementals, but Ungifted usually identify by the lands they live in. For example, we are in Gaiist territory, as my overarching Family, but Cragbend is the Seat of the Scion Arborea lands, which are within House Florian lands. An Ungifted would be as specific as they needed to be. Someone from Cragbend would say they were from Arborea lands. Someone from Sagebridge, though, would say Florian.”

“That does make sense. It would make more sense if I had a map, though.”

“There is a wondrous map in Irillo, in the Scholar’s Seat. Make sure Halesia takes you to see it.”

I nodded. She took this as leave to continue her explanation.

“There are two other Houses and eight other Scions within the Gaiist Family. And then two more Families within Eflary– the Flamels and the Aeros. The same number is true for Maarran, but they have a Family with water magic instead of our fire Family for Balance.”

“Oh, hopefully I will just pick up some of it as I go. But I get the point. I remember Fife questioned me with a bunch of names when I told him mine, I had no idea what he meant.”

“What is your second name?”

“Starr.”

“Oh, certainly. That could suggest several Houses and Scions. I’m sure you will acclimate as you go. I should ask, how well do you ride?”

“As in a horse?” She nodded. “Fairly well, though it has been quite a while. Horses are only for pleasure riding on Earth, mostly.” I grimaced a bit, recalling how sore I would be after a day in the saddle. “How long is the ride to… er– Irillo, is it?”

“A day and a half usually, but not less than a day. Depends on the pace. You should visit the stables so my horse master can select you an appropriate mount. In the meantime, please explore Rosewood and the lands, and even town if you like. Dinner will be at octdecca erdur.”

“Oh! Yes! I have been meaning to ask about time here, how many errr-durrs are there in a day?”

Daphne sat back in her chair with her cup of tea in two hands. “There are septduary erdurs in an anar. It’s half octa now.”

“Ok, thank you. And thank you for this lovely meal and conversation.” She smiled and watched me leave, I could feel her gaze on my back. More than that, I had an idea that her dryads decided I was fair game again. Minute tugs on my hair and silver ear hoops rattled my composure. I hurried back through the buzzing arbor.

Which would you rather have- black flies or mischievous dryads you couldn’t see? I quickly learned the fae spirits were extremely devoted to their chosen Elemental, but that they delighted in tormenting Ungifted. Some people here think living with ghosts or cockroaches is bad? Try living with things that you can’t see, but can hide all of your clothes overnight! Makes putting out bug bait not seem so bad…

nuisance flies or dryads?*

I’ll leave it there for this week, that was a long segment, but Daphne gave me a lot of information to process. And next time we will explore Rosewood— now that’s a real treat!~

Wow, Elahna just found out that she may not be able to get back to Earth. How would you feel about that? Would you be dying to get home, or content to start fresh, if it came to that? Drop a comment below about how you would react to the news that Elahna heard from Daphne. What would you do?

If you want an extra peek into Huphaea and Elahna’s journey, subscribe to Collata ⚡, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter. Once, maybe twice a month, Nightingales get an exclusive snippet from my memory of my time away. Click the button below to join the Nightingales, I’m looking forward to welcoming you!

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*Photos used are from pxhere or unsplash as free for use in the public domain.

©2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press. All Rights Reserved.

Reblog: Sharing Something I Do Not Do, But Should… 4 reasons to carve out designated writing time — Uninspired Writers

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

One of the most frequent tips I hear from writer friends is to have designated writing time. I have yet to get there. I know that I should, but with dogs, gardens, a farm, and household chores, I’m lucky if I can fit in half an hour for some cardio exercise in the pool I painted, since soccer is still in lockdown. There are the days when I get in a zone and have to finish a scene, so I take those days and run with them. Then I’m able to parse out that time spent over the next several days so I don’t feel guilty about not writing. Yeah, totally vicious circle. So see if any of this post resonates with you, and be a more time-organized writer than me 😉.~

Writing required commitment, but it’s not always easy to find time in ourbusy lives. Yet, if it’s something we want to pursue, it’s something we have to do. Recently, alongside fitting writing in whenever I can, I’ve set aside designated writing time. Two hours on a Sunday, when I shut off from the world and […]

4 reasons to carve out designated writing time — Uninspired Writers

The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #8

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hello Everyone! I hope you all are well and staying safe and healthy. Summer is in full swing here, since the last post I have finished opening the pool and am back to swimming laps in preparation for soccer starting back up. How is the re-opening progressing where you are? Are you thinking of travelling this summer at all? I’m doing the mind travelling route, taking off for other worlds in my head as I write these CoH chronicles and the subsequent novel(s). I’ve also taken up firm residence in Victorian London, thanks to the historical fiction audiobooks I escape with when I’m weeding and walking the dogs. Sherry Thomas’ The Lady Sherlock Series has been fabulous to listen to, if you are a fan of that genre, I strongly recommend it!

When we last saw Elahna, she had been left at the spectacular Rosewood Manor by the Bluebirds and she knew she would be heading to the capital city of Irillo sometime soon. There had been another performance, and then an awkward encounter with a boy. Elahna was pretty nervous about this ‘Passer’ thing. Let’s see how she is in the morning…~

a sunlight alarm*

Warm sunshine streaming through leafy shutters brought me awake. At some point I had crawled under the covers and nestled into the cloud-like pillows. Branches woven together formed an intricate canopy in russet and olive hues above me. Leaves framed the edges where scrollwork would normally appear, and gauzy light blue material filled the gaps mimicking the sky. I hadn’t taken the opportunity to appreciate my accommodations last night, my unrest had been too immediate and I had even fallen asleep in my clothes. I rubbed crusty sleep from my eyes and scanned the room then, examining the contents.

Every piece of furniture appeared to grow out of the floor, walls, or ceiling, depending on what it was. Bright dyed cushions in blues, soft yellows and russets decorated the chairs. The bed dressings mirrored the color choices in summer weight blanket and linens.

Time. What time was it? I hadn’t had a chance to figure out how many erdurs were in the days here yet.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen the moon in this land yet. Was there one? At that thought, so many other questions flooded my mind that I had to get up and move around to dispel them.

That was when I found the water system in the bathroom—you had asked about water earlier.

The sink emerged from the wall as a curved basin of lighter colored wood.

Two curved hollow branchlets hung over the sink. I touched one and cool water started flowing, and was immediately absorbed when it hit the basin.

not quite right, but on this idea…*

It was mesmerizing to watch. I touched the other, and warm water flowed. These trees would certainly consume huge amounts of water to support all of these leaves and structures; a built-in recycling system, created out of the tree itself, made perfect sense. The lighter-colored wood of the basin must be the tree’s xylem, its water conductive tissue. Ingenious.

On the opposite wall, a shower area was designated. The shower head faced down from the ceiling in the center of a lattice work not unlike the bed canopy. The walls were constructed of layers of leaves, which funneled the water to the same light-colored xylem floor. I was grateful for the warm water after fighting battles for two nights during the Bluebird’s performances.

When I emerged, wrapped in a thick fluffy robe that resembled cotton (though not any cotton known here), I found a new set of clothes on the chair aside the purple door. A folded note sat atop them. My new name on the front and the message inside were written in fine script:

~Please follow the red circles from the main foyer to my garden to break your fast. I look forward to meeting you.~

– Daphne Arborea

Hmmm, was this a summons? I didn’t enjoy the idea of being summoned, but I was a guest in her house. Maybe I could ask more questions about this house. Maybe she would explain what a Passer is and how they are viewed.

Honestly, at that point, I wasn’t sure what ‘Passer’ meant. I assumed it meant something about how I had come here, but then that also meant there had to be more people who had come here from Earth. Had that gone badly in the past and now Passers were feared? I didn’t get that feeling among the Bluebirds, but once we were here in Cragbend, the sentiment was different. And certainly that boy last night had been scared.

Speaking of that boy, along with Daphne’s note, there was also a thrice-folded piece of paper, obviously torn from something else, with a note written in a childish hand on the inside:

Please don’t take my Mamam with you when you go back to your home. I would miss her a lot, I love her so much. Please just go back home yourself and leave her with me.
Thank you,
Lignan Arborea

I knew it was the innocent plea of a scared child, but it was the stories that fueled the fear behind it that made me uneasy. I decided to take it to Daphne and ask what was going on.

The new garments were similar to my borrowed ones, but with dark green leaf patterns embroidered into the light green linen. Being a tree-oriented family, I wasn’t surprised. My stomach rumbled and I proceeded out the door to meet Daphne Arborea.

Now that I was looking for them, I discovered a entire crayon box of colored shapes and circles on the floor, all going in separate directions, like breadcrumb trails of cereal winding down the halls and up the stairs. Upon closer inspection, the colorful bits were actually gemstones, gold, and crystals set into the wood floor as part of the nature scenes beneath my feet.

gemstone markers with gold nuggets in Rosewood’s floors

In the vast main foyer, where the original house remained, the floors were of the same patterns, the only difference being the noise my sandals made as I walked.

The effect the scenes created was like walking on an iced-over stream with gems set in the streambed, or a rocky forest path with colored trail markers lining the edge. It was so realistic I kept waiting for wet feet, or pebbles between my toes. I remembered what Raga said about Rosewood Manor always changing and wondered if the floor scenes did too.

I should stop here, so that next time we will meet with Daphne Arborea, matriarch of House Arborea. Stay tuned and don’t miss episode #9!

So, a floor inlaid with gemstones and gold nuggets as markers? What kind of place is this, right? I’ll let you in on something, gemstones are pretty commonplace in Huphaea. There are four Houses concerned with obtaining and working with them, so you can imagine what they produce. We will meet them later on, I promise!

How about the Manor itself, and what do you think Daphne Arborea will be like? Let me know in the comments below, don’t worry, you’ll find out soon!

If you want an extra peek into Huphaea and Elahna’s journey, subscribe to Collata, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter. Once, maybe twice a month, Nightingales get an exclusive snippet from my memory of my time away. Click the button below to join the Nightingales, I’m looking forward to welcoming you!

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*All images not my own are from pxhere or unsplash as free for use in the public domain.

©2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press, All Rights Reserved.

More Musings from the Land of Audiobooks

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment
Don’t mind the messy desk, please…

Ah, my three ubiquitous companions. These devices have the singular ability to be able to accompany me ANYWHERE, something my dogs cannot do but would if they could.

And they also take me anywhere in time and location. So while I may be head down weeding furiously around blooming perennials, my mind thinks I am in 1918 London solving mysteries alongside Maisie Dobbs, or inside the mind of Sherlock Holmes as ‘he’ is portrayed by Sherry Thomas in late-Victorian society. The power of story never fails to amaze me.

I have always loved reading aloud, I’ve done it for years to my dogs on hot afternoons or late evenings to settle us all down. The stories leap off the pages into the fore of my mind, becoming more real the more I speak. I’m not sure if that is the case for everyone, but I would almost be sad if it were not. I wasn’t sure if listening would provide the same experience for me and I am thrilled that it has. Hours weeding in the hot sun in messy gardens fly by, while the dogs’ walks become calmer too. I am able to fall into the story almost as if I were holding the book myself.

Recently, I began listening to the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear. I was unsure about the time period, pre- and post-WWI London, but library availability was scarce, so I took the chance. When the book was done, I returned it and looked for the second in the series (I think there are fifteen so far) immediately.

The second book, however, changed narrators, and I was a bit crushed. Now I understood about readers following narrators.

The first narrator undertook the tale in a pleasant, hopeful voice easily associated with a younger female. The male parts she infused with a warm and caring tone befitting of Maisie’s father and mentor. I was attentive to the dialogue especially, learning for future reference.

The second book, Birds of a Feather, features a crisp, more sophisticated and controlled narrator that took several chapters to get used to. I actually considered stopping listening because I was so unsettled. However, I continued, as I was well into the story by then, and I’m glad I did.

By the end, I thought it actually a brilliant decision on the producer’s part to change narrators (if that was the case), for Maisie’s character had undergone many changes as well, thanks to the war duty she saw. The Maisie who emerged from medical duty in France was harder, leaner, and inquisitive in a more pointed way than before. The new narrator had nailed this sentiment, I felt, with her clipped speech patterns and deeper tones.

And yes, I do have the third book on hold to listen to when it becomes available 🙂. From looking ahead though, I will hear a third narrator and I hope she is as insightful as the other two have been.

I’ve picked up many pointers just listening to the different narrators in my short time consuming audio stories. All food for thought as I continue to practice reading and differentiating characters to my dogs on these lazy summer days. I’m priming for the best performances I can give!~

Do you evaluate the narrators of the audiobooks you listen to? What things do you notice and what will make you stop listening? I’d love to know while I’m learning this craft, leave me a comment below!

The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #7

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hi Everyone! Hope you are all well as we pass the midpoint of June. Wow, time does fly. One fun fact about Ereth and Huphaea is that we share the same sun. The day length, therefore, is still the same for Elahna, but it is divided up into more ‘erdurs’ than twenty-four. How many more? Stay tuned for that, she will find out in an upcoming episode (which I need to write! Gah! Time!).

When we left Elahna last week, she was still with the Bluebirds, but they were heading to Rosewood Manor for a performance that evening. Shall we find out what happens next?

Rosewood Manor loomed in front of me, grown over and through by enormous trees that denied the sun once you entered under their canopy. Inside, the walls, arches, and columns of the cavernous corridor were a mixture of gray and tan stone embedded in trunks and limbs. Staircases were hewn from multiple leaders and branches wound into railings. Complex lattices of leaves and branchlets formed doors and window shutters. The Seat pulsed with energy and felt warm and alive to the touch.

Because of course, it was.

It was the most amazing structure I had ever seen. I gaped. I couldn’t help myself.

I wish I could draw it for you. Yes, there were lights and hot water, but I don’t think they were electric. Probably vitae powered. It was such an incredible place, especially for a plant lover like me.

Aymur Arborea greeted us in the grand main foyer. He reminded me of a smaller version of Paul Bunyan. But not clad in plaid. The backs of his hands were rough and lined like beech bark and his eyes were a brilliant green.

“So this is the Passer?” That word again. “Elahna, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you. Elements be.” I raised my hand, palm out, as I had seen others do.

“Elements be, well met. Fife has told me your story as he knows it. I admit, I am intrigued. I sent a bird to my kinswoman, the Queen, for advice on the matter. She replied to send you on to Irillo and perhaps the Scholars can help get you home. For tonight, though, be our welcome guest at my mother Daphne’s request and enjoy the Bluebird show. In the morning we will discuss travel.”

“Thank you, sir.” I nodded in respect.

Fife clapped a strong arm around my shoulders. “Ah, you’re in good hands now, fla, Madame Daphne’s a fine hostess. I wish you luck in getting home, and if you don’t, perhaps we’ll meet again.” He winked and raised his palm. “Elements be.”

“Thank you so much, Fife. For everything. Elements be.”

And just like that, I was an outsider again. I did want to see Fife and the Bluebirds again. I felt indebted to them for their acceptance and help. I could only hope if there was a next time, I would be in a position to repay them somehow. I had a feeling debts were part of the currency in Huphaea, or at least in Eflary.

The Arboreans made me welcome in every way possible, but they couldn’t hide the furtive glances. ‘Passer’ was tossed around behind hands or whispered into pointed ears. The unwanted attention increased through the meal, and I was glad to see the show start.

No, the people weren’t nasty or anything, but it was like being the new kid in school. Uncomfortable.

Oh yes, the show was magnificent. I was just as exhausted as the night before. My brain spun with new legends and song impressions. Haha! I only wish I could tell you some, I mostly remember images and sensations. I wouldn’t do them justice.

The hall emptied, Bluebirds heading back to their camp, and Seat residents seeking their quarters. I wandered down the corridor I had been shown when I passed a woman and a young boy. The boy shrank back from me, clutching his mother’s leg and hand as though I might steal him. “What if she tries to take you back to her home with her?” he wailed. “No, Mamam, you can’t go!”

“Hush, Lignan! Don’t be silly! Passers don’t steal people. I’ve been called to Forelore and so has she, it only makes sense that we travel together. It’s time for your visit with your pater anyway. He’ll be here tomorrow to get you. Stop your whining, you are too old to cry about such things.” She flicked a quick glance at me and marched him away.

I quickened my pace, counting the doors on the right to the fifth one. It was deep purple. I yanked it open and then closed in one motion. Locating the bed through my teary eyes, I flopped face down and let out my fear until I fell asleep.

It wasn’t my finest moment, for sure. I was just glad to be out of the whispers and didn’t want to think about what that boy meant. This is a good place to stop, and I promise the next day is much more upbeat!

Can you imagine how Elahna felt after hearing the boy’s outburst? She has had an amazing two days though! Leave a comment below and let me know what you’d be thinking at this point- would you want to go home, or stay?

Remember to subscribe to Collata, The Collection of Huphaea’s official newsletter! The next issue is coming out very soon, so keep an eye on your inbox if you are already a Nightingale. If not, hit the subscribe button below and join Eleanorah’s troupe!

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©2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press. All Rights Reserved.

My New Obsession: Audiobooks. What took me so long?

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

I’ve mentioned in a previous post that I want to get into narrating audiobooks. As I investigated more about narrating, one of the most frequent tips was—listen to audiobooks yourself to get an idea of the different approaches narrators can take.

Photo by Findaway Voices on Unsplash

This advice made all the sense to me, but still a part of me resisted—the same part of me that prefers to read a physical book over an e-book on my iPad.

I continued to hold out, reading aloud for myself, formulating my own strategies of how to voice different characters. And then of course, COVID happened.

My TBR pile of physical books dwindled, though I am never technically out of things to read, I couldn’t go get what I wanted to read anymore. My library is well-connected with digital reading resources, so I started exploring what was available.

I was thrilled to find Good Omens, but only once I downloaded it did I realize it was in audiobook form. I paused for a moment, but then decided to give it a go, because after all, I listen to a billion podcasts on many topics, so why not try it? And really, I should anyway.

Suffice to say that was a month ago, and I’ve gone through six books, with two in progress. It is fabulous, I’m totally hooked! Why did I wait so long?

I listen when I’m in the car, when I’m walking the dogs, when I’m eating breakfast, when I’m gardening. I’ve even had to stop listening to the books to catch up on the podcasts I keep up with regularly.

And I have found all of that advice to new narrators to be true—listen and find out what you like and what you don’t like, because a voice and a style MATTERS.

My nephew and I learned this first hand while tackling his 7th grade English COVID-school work. He chose a series of books to read for the story analysis section they were doing, in audio form. The first book’s narrator was a man with clear diction, great pace, enough difference in the characters to make it interesting, and clean production. Sadly, the second book featured a woman with a strong accent, who spoke fast, misspoke words often, and you could hear every page turn or movement she made. It was awful, bad enough that the story lost our interest. We even decided to complete the assignments with what we knew already, so that we didn’t have to hear it anymore. A real shame considering we wanted to know the outcome of the story, being one book in already.

I have found that listening to audiobooks prods me even more to narrate myself. I should have known though, once I started that I’d be hooked. I think it was part of the opposition, honestly, that resistant voice that says “Uh oh, this could be dangerous.” I gotta listen to that voice more often, be quicker with my inner rebel to accept the challenge. Oh yeah, and I did just buy an Kindle, too. Let the electronic consumption begin!~

© 2020 Quill & Orb Press. All Rights Reserved

Re-Blogged: Fiction Writing Contests Worth Your Time in Summer 2020 — Writer Unboxed

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Writing contests are a topic I often think about and something I want to do in the near future. It appeals to my competitiveness and my creativity. Some of these deadlines are past or coming up soon, but there are many later in the summer. Follow the link to see if any pique your interest! Happy writing!~

This contest submissions season covers deadlines from June 1, 2020 through August 31, 2020. Summer is a slower time for any literary journal or contest associated with a university, but there are still opportunities between beach waves and new drafts. 2,540 more words

Fiction Writing Contests Worth Your Time in Summer 2020 — Writer Unboxed

The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #6

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hello Everyone! It’s a steamy, tropical day here, perfect for sitting with my words (as long as the computer doesn’t frazzle out with humidity) and reminiscing. There is so much about Huphaea I wish I could share with you in reality, though I hope our story sessions do inspire happy emotions and active imaginations 😊. Stories are intrinsic to us as humans and provide a little refuge when it all gets ‘a bit crazy out there.’ I hope you are all well and safe 💛. Nightingales, look for a new issue of Collata in your inbox soon!

When we last left Elahna, she had just had her world rocked by the Madrigal Bluebird troup’s mind-blowing performances and some tavern ale… let’s see how she is feeling the next day…~

Town of Cragbend, Seat of Scion Arborea, House Gaiist

Morning found me wrapped in a soft blanket in a pavilion. The sounds of an active camp and smells of sausage and eggs floated around me. I sat up and felt the dull pound I expected in my head. Ugh. This was gonna suck. The tavern ale had hit like good-natured boxer—hard, but with a jolly laugh. I remembered laughing a lot, and oh, jeeeyyyz my body felt battered, I just hoped I hadn’t acted too much a fool. Right then, Raga stuck his head in the door and grinned.

Bluebird camp*

“Ah! You live! I’ll call Poet in, I can imagine you need her services.”

What did that mean? “Oh, ah, I’m good, thanks,” but my attempt to stand up betrayed me. He chuckled again.

Poet ducked inside and knelt beside me. “Here, let’s see if I can help some.” She put one hand on the front of my head and one on the back and started to hum in a low tone. When she stopped after a minute or so, the pounding had subsided into a tolerable ache.

I gazed at her in wonder. “How did you do that? Are you a healer too?”

Vitae works wonders…*

“No, not as such, it’s just another aspect of my singing ability. I use my voice to create, but I can also draw away with it. The bits I can’t fix some food will. Come on. We saved some for you.”

As we walked through camp, I noticed many of the others watching us overtly. I caught the word ‘Passer’ several times in whispered tones and my self-consciousness came rushing back. I didn’t belong here. I had to find a way home.

“There’s the Passer. Is she staying here?”*

Did I want to go home? Well, that was the REAL question. Kinda yes, and kinda no. I definitely wanted to know more about this land of Huphaea, its amazing people, the magic, dragons(!), but would I be welcome to?

Fife greeted me heartily and Tango hugged my legs. “Well, fla, unfortunately the Orderly isn’t here at the moment, though I’ll say your head seemed fine last night, if a bit ale-addled. You sure have some stories to tell and some strange words. Hopefully Raga let you sleep once you were tucked away in the pavilion, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows and winked at me.

I felt my face burn crimson. Oh god, I had no memory of even walking back to camp—and Raga wasn’t there to save me. Oh no, what did I do? Would Poet hate me? She didn’t seem to, but that could be a front until later. Ugh.

I passed the day helping where I could to be useful, to keep my mind off what might have happened that I didn’t remember.

The cartwrights had indeed set up a mobile workshop of sorts out by the wagons and were busy fitting new wheels, replacing axle shafts, applying grease to hubs, repairing cracks in the walls and floors, and there was even a painter. The last two individuals held my attention for a while. They were absorbed in their work, but the lack of tools and jars normally seen with menders and painters was glaring to me.

The mender was a bearded man in a red vest. He ran his long fingers over every inch of the wagon box to my left. When he detected some unseen anomaly, he stopped and placed his opposite hand into the bucket he carried with him. Something would flow, seemingly from the fingers of his first hand, onto the wood. When he was satisfied, he removed the hand from the bucket and continued pressing and smoothing the spot. It made me think of applying caulking or glue to a crack. When he moved away, a bright spot of new wood shone. The more I watched, the more it became obvious that he was drawing on the contents of the bucket to fill the cracks—but through his hands and body? I didn’t want to stare too long, but I was mesmerized. At that moment, the painter approached the wagon to my right.

“Elements be. Did you paint these coaches? They are astoundingly beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Elements be. Oh, I did not paint them originally, but I have worked on them several times when the Bluebirds are in Cragbend. They are lovely pieces. All of the Madrigal caravans are stunning.” The woman was young, with shorter, straight black hair woven into rows of braids that were pulled back from her face. Her highly pointed ears poked out between the rows and corralled numerous paint brushes. She carried a flat palette with a large dollop of white paint on it. Her smile was small, perhaps shy, but her lavender eyes radiated confidence and warmth. She wore a white sleeveless shirt and not a spot of color marred it.

“Forgive me for asking, but can you tell me what he is doing? It looks like he is repairing cracks, but I can’t see how.”

She grinned now, it was lopsided but full of openness. “He is repairing cracks, yes. See how he finds the weaknesses with one hand by touch, and then applies the sawdust in the bucket to it. His talent is transformative. The sawdust becomes a form he can work into the anomalies to re-strengthen them. They appear as new wood, then I come along and color them to match. I’m guessing you are the Passer everyone is talking about.”

“Oh, um, yes I am.” My eyes slid to the side, a bit embarrassed. Just then, she plucked a brush from an ear, dipped it into the white paint and touched up the design where the new wood gleamed. The paint brushed on in the exact colors necessary! My mouth fell open a bit and I drew a tiny sharp breath. She glanced back at me with that grin again.

white brushes leave color?*

“Creating color is my gift,” she said, before I could even splutter a question.

“But, how? How did you make something white into all those shades of blue just there? I don’t see any dyes or pigments on your board.”

“My talent is transformative, too. There is plenty of pigment all around us, in the form of light. It’s filled with color.”

“You use light? Like channeling it into the paint or something?” I didn’t care that I sounded like an idiot.

“Yes, very much like that! I see light and colors very differently when I invoke my talent. It allows me to see color in its parts so I can draw the light I need to create the exact colors.” She kept painting as she spoke, the strokes leaving color that blended perfectly with the surroundings.

“That’s amazing. Do others have that ability too?”

“Some, sure. There are others who are Herballs who have like ability, but they do work with the actual dyes and pigments in plants. Their work is best for garments and fabrics, candles, more softer materials. The coaches are always outside, so light-based color makes the most sense for their artwork. It’s constantly being refreshed that way.”

“Wow, I’m,… thank you. I don’t know what to say, there is nothing like that where I’m from. And this type of color makes so much more sense to me! Thank you for indulging my curiosity. I should get back and be useful. Enjoy your day! Elements be!” I raised my left palm and smiled as I turned away.

“Elements be, you’re welcome. Enjoy your stay.” She tipped her palette to me in goodbye and went back to embellishing wood with light.

I caught up with Fife next as I crossed the camp. He said he had spoken with Aymur Arborea last night about finding me some help to get home. I tried not to look too disappointed. He had been so generous, I didn’t want to be ungrateful, and I knew I couldn’t stay with the troupe as I had no talent to offer. I was going to miss them though.

The Bluebirds had been such a help to me over the past day—it was hard to believe I had only been in Huphaea for a day!

What was that? Oh, no, I never did get an answer that day from Raga about the night before. I lived with that question for quite a while, mind you. And Poet never said a word 🤷🏼‍♀️.

We’ll leave it here for today, the next post will take us to Rosewood Manor and the delights that await there!

What did you think about the mender’s and painter’s abilities? Amazing, right? Would you want to go home if you were in Elahna’s shoes? Leave a comment below and let us know!

Remember to subscribe to Collata, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter. The second issue will be out soon with some more exclusive content, from a youngster this time 😃. Hit the subscribe button below and become a Nightingale!

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*images other than Cragbend map from pxhere or unsplash as free for all use images

© 2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press. All rights reserved.

The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #5

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hello everyone! All the wishes to your health and sanity as we continue to cope with pandemic issues—stay strong! Can you believe we are about to enter June? We have had a taste of summer where I live, the sticky humid part of summer, after a looooonnnnng, very cool spring. It’s been quite a shock to the system, like Elahna going from insulated boots to summer sandals in one day. A hint of times to come, for sure.

So, when we last spoke, Elahna was just digesting the fact that there are dragons in this land. Raga, Poet, and Fife had a bit of a chuckle at her expense and she learned you do not have a dragon, ever. Dragons impart knowledge, but you should have a consarned good reason for speaking with one. Let’s continue on to Cragbend with the troupe, shall we?

closer to Cragbend…*

The homesteads on the nearer approach to Cragbend got a little smaller, but no less affluent.

*

Many had painted or carved wooden signs hanging by the road with various items depicted- chairs, bowls, cabinets, casks, wagons.

*

Vegetables grew in meticulous gardens and conical hay stacks populated shorn fields.

*

My nervousness returned as we entered the rustic town, but was forgotten in the activity of making camp in the field beside the Cleft Barrel. I was assigned to the horse lines with a young musician named Tenor. He pounded stakes for pickets while I secured the horses and doled out the feed.

By the time we finished, a fire roared in a central, stacked stone pit. Children’s laughter gamboled through the air as they peeled vegetables for stew and hurled the scraps at each other or the chickens.

cooking in the Bluebirds’ camp…*

Numerous brightly colored tents and pavilions now dotted the field.

Troupe members scurried around like ants, each with their own tasks to attend to in the familiar dance of pitching camp. The hulking shapes of the wagons formed an arc on the right side, nearer the road, like protective sphinxes crouched on their haunches. Tenor explained how, in towns where there wasn’t a Seat or large pub to perform in, they could fasten the wagons together by a series of collapsible panels to form a large stage.

Several times I caught myself studying the exquisite workmanship of the conveyances. Each wagon had a domed, retractable bonnet dyed mostly in shades of blue with other colors dancing through the swirls of ocean and sky. Ornate carvings of bluebirds perching on branches, clinging to rushes, and singing streams of notes adorned the sidewalls and rear panels. The skillful use of fire had fashioned the bas relief murals, which were painted to life in greens, browns, gold, and myriad blues. The heavy wooden wheels and fluted running gear paired seamlessly. Thick metal pins secured the junctures, but also meant the wheels could be taken off with ease for repairs or stage construction. They were rolling works of marvelous, versatile art.

“Not only are they beautiful, but they are multi-functional? And I’ve never seen so many shades of blue.”

Tenor’s shy smile acknowledged the compliment before he spoke.

“They are all made here. In the morning, you’ll see a few men wandering around checking them over. They get maintained every time we are in Cragbend. Many of the other troupes get their coaches here too.” Tenor’s voice was rich and easy to listen to, I wondered why he played the lap harp instead of singing.

“How many other troupes are there?”

“Five others, each bearing a different color. Hence the predominance of blue with us, like Fife’s donjar torc.”

“Where is your home town? How long have you been on tour?”

“We are always home.” He waved at the wagons. “Our life is on tour. We may stay in one place for a bit if there is a festival, or bad weather, but only until a weather-worker restores the skies.”

I let out a deep breath, rolling my eyes to myself. Drinking was certainly in order tonight.

Of course, being from New England, the idea of a weather-worker was just too good to be true. People could control the weather? I’d have to see that to believe it, for sure. I had now lost count of all the crazy things that were commonplace here.

like the Cleft Barrel*

The Cleft Barrel was a large, two-story pub at the forkroad in the center of Cragbend. The first floor was large and comfortable for eating and social activity; the second floor held lodgings, judging by the many doors I glimpsed. This night, the center of the main floor had been cleared for the Bluebirds’ performance. The townsfolk filled tables and benches against the walls and children crowded the balcony that ringed the upper floor.

“Looks like they knew you were coming.”

“Of course. We sent a bird ahead when we left Irillo, to let the cartwrights know we would be here for maintenance for a couple days. They undoubtedly passed the word. It’s an event when the Madrigal troupes are in town,” Poet replied, putting Tango’s hand in mine. “Follow the young ones upstairs, you’ll have the best view from there.” She spun around and made for the convening Bluebirds before I could protest. Tango grinned up at me then pulled my arm out straight as he followed the rest of the troupe kids to the stairs.

They were right. We could see everything from our vantage, but the show included SO much more than visuals. I will never forget any of the Madrigal performances I saw.

I figured out quickly that Madrigals all have magical abilities according to their roles. The two storytellers began the night with a tale for the children akin to Jack and the Beanstalk.

ladybugs!*

Before I knew what was happening, I was high in the air, clinging onto a giant vine. A breeze blew through my hair with the scent of honeysuckle. The giant ladybugs pursuing me were far too close for comfort, I could see their beady red eyes and hear their scuttling legs. I turned around to continue climbing when an enormous black and yellow spider bearing the hero of the story on its back stepped over me. The prickly hairs on its legs brushed my back. The crowd cheered and the children around me whooped and yelled as the ladybugs were vanquished.

*

Then I was back on the balcony with Tango dancing in my lap.

Yeah, it was astounding. I still don’t really have words to describe it. The shows were always mind-blowing.

Some of that night I spent in bloody battles fighting vampire armies (yup, they exist here too), courtesy of Fife, and endured captivity in a lone tower until the shape-shifting farm boy rescued me. The singers caroled a tour of the continent, highlighting the abilities of the Elemental Families. Poet’s lilting voice wove color and sensation into my drone-like flight above a life-size map. Sometimes a Family would be cheered by members in the crowd, others garnered faint gibes or snickers. All I could think was that the virtual reality games I knew were a joke.

No, God no. Movies don’t even remotely come close. Even 3D motion rides can’t compare to the power of Madrigal magic. It’s beyond this world.

Players, like Raga, turned amazing acrobatic routines, juggled far too many and dangerous objects (even people!) effortlessly, and took mime to a new level. Puppeteer Calliope enlivened her hand-crafted minions from afar, no strings necessary. Poet provided the vocals for the Punch-and-Judyesque shorts, her bawdy banter had the ale-stoked crowd’s full attention and eager participation.

The Madrigals created playgrounds for ALL the senses and satisfied everyone, 100% of the time.

By the end of the evening, I was exhausted. I could barely carry a sleeping Tango downstairs to join the troupe. Fife took one look at my face and laughed until he cried, thrusting a tankard of something at me. “Here you go, Fla, that’ll fix you. Did you enjoy the show?”

I nodded, smiling wearily, and sampled the drink. I had read about tavern ale so much in fantasy books that I wasn’t surprised, but it was STRONG. Like the strongest craft beer on steroids. Between the ale and the interactive show, I was gonna pay tomorrow…

books don’t do tavern ale justice…*

Oh, and don’t you know I certainly did! We can leave off here for this episode, stay safe and I’ll see you next time!~

The Madrigal shows sound amazing, don’t they? Like virtual reality without the silly glasses. I bet she never looks at ladybugs or garden spiders the same! Would you enjoy a performance like that? Drop a comment below and let me know!

Collata, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter has had it’s first issue! If you want to get in on exclusive anecdotes, out-takes, and graphics from Eleanorah’s journey once or twice a month, hit the subscribe button below. Become a Nightingale!

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*All photos with asterisk and the pavilion photo from pxHere or Unsplash for free use.

©2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press. All Rights Reserved.

The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #4

aimeredleaf, The Narrative Gardener Leave a comment

Hello all, Elements be! Hard to believe it’s been two weeks since I was here last, I hope the situations in your corner of the world are improving. Or that you are managing it as best you can 🙂. Let’s head back to Huphaea now, continue the adventure and forget about restrictions and pandemics for a bit. Ready?

We left off with the Bluebird troupe making their way toward Cragbend, and Elahna discovering she was in the company of Elves! They wanted to take her to an Orderly, and she wasn’t so sure about that…

leaving Venrood Forest behind…*

I spent the rest of the ride to Cragbend observing my new companions and surroundings. The Bluebird troupe numbered twenty and included four musicians, a bard (Fife), three singers (including Poet), two storytellers, a puppeteer, three players (Raga), and six children. They were not family per se, though some were related. My desire to know begged to ask a thousand questions, but I restrained them to whatever the topic at hand was.

Fife returned with a loose linen shirt in bright kelly green and gray leggings obviously made of a plant fiber, but as durable as doeskin. I was thrilled to discard my hot, waterproof hikers for soft but sturdy leather sandals adorned with colored metal rivets and hoops.

Winter to summer, boots to sandals all in one day?—if you know me, you know I was in heaven!

After the wardrobe change, I found it much easier to unwind. Just feeling like I was part of, instead of an outsider, even if it was only temporary, quelled my anxiety for a time. Raga explained that when we arrived at the Cleft Barrel, the troupe would see to the horses, arrange the wagons, and erect the sleeping pavilions first, before going in.

“I’d be happy to help wherever I can.”

“My thanks. We’ll work you in. Ah, there’s the town, there in the valley. Another erdur or so til we arrive.”

“Did you say ‘erdur’? Do you mean hour?”

“Oww-horr. What is that to you?”

The way he rolled the word ‘hour’ made me laugh and then stop, afraid of being rude, but he was laughing as well.

“It’s a unit of time, a larger unit. It’s made up of sixty smaller units.” Would he even know what sixty was?

“Yes, I think an erdur would be like an oww-horr.”

We continued our discussion about time, and even numbers, which thankfully we did share, but not the names of them. With the help of Tango, who was learning his numbers too, Raga and I established that decca equaled ten, so I could go from there in a Latin-esque fashion. Phew.

*

The caravan left the forest behind during that exchange and we traveled through long, sedate hills of farmsteads.

farmsteads on the way to Cragbend*

Well off to the left, a long arm of the forest curled around and ended in a massive stand of trees. Those trees stood tens of feet above any others; they reminded me of the faux cellphone tower trees along the highways. But I was pretty sure these were not artificial. Smoke trails puffed from the stand in three dark ribbons.

“Is that forest on fire?” I pointed, getting a bit nervous.

“What? Oh, no. That’s Rosewood, the Arborea Seat. See how the trees are so much larger? The Arborea scion has tree magic, and their Seat shows their capabilities. It’s one of my favorite Seats to visit in all of Huphaea. Wait til you see it!” Raga’s enthusiasm was palpable, and Tango started clapping again. Poet joined us on the bench.

“I’ll be glad to get out of this wagon, for sure.” she said. “I agree. Rosewood is spectacular. They say the building was built long ago like any other, but Arboreans have infused the wood and the trees with so much of their vitae over the generations that the two are indistinguishable. They live IN the trees. And it’s always changing. It’s never the same as when we were here last.”

“What do you mean by vitae? I mean, I know a word like that, but what does it mean here?”

My heart started beating a bit faster- portals, elves and now magic tree houses?

vitae streams*

“Vitae is the energy that flows through Huphaea, and in the Elemental Families, it gives them their abilities. Well, and us Madrigals, too.”

“And the dragons and the other First Ones.” Raga added.

I know my face fell—he did just say dragons. Both Poet and Raga laughed, and Tango joined in. “Dragons? Like how big? Dragons?” I stammered.

Fife reined back at all the noise, reaching for Tango as he drew alongside. “What’s all the crac about back here? Are they havin’ a go at you, fla?” Tango stood on the saddle swell, encircled in one of Fife’s huge arms, grinning like he owned the world.

“They just said there are dragons here. Is that true?”

“Ha Ha! Of course it is! We don’t generally see them up close, unless you go seek one out, and you’d better have a consarned good reason to do that. But there’re plenty here. You don’t have dragons, I’m guessing?” His amusement was only a bit less restrained than the other two.

“Only in books. They’re a really popular subject. A lot of people think it would be cool to have one.”

“Have one? Oh, fla, you don’t HAVE a dragon. Dragons have Riders, they are about the only ones the Great Ones allow around them. You can seek them for a piece of knowledge, if you’re desperate, or for the Scholar’s Final Telling, but they are best left to themselves. They find us when the Balance needs us.”

“Oh. I see.” I had to let that sink in. Dragons.

Yeah, dragons! You can imagine my mind was pretty much on overload at this point. I just sat back and watched the landscape pass for a while. Cragbend was visible up ahead and I still had a night to get through. What else would I encounter in this day?

I’ll leave off here for now, before we make it into Cragbend. That will be next time. See you then!~

What would you be thinking now if you were in Elahna’s place? Drop a comment below for Eleanorah, let us know!~

If you’d like exclusive snips from Eleanorah’s story, subscribe to Collata, The Collection of Huphaea newsletter. The current issue will have an introduction to the Known Trees of Huphaea. Don’t miss it! Become a Nightingale!~

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*Photo credits to pxhere, Unsplash, and Canva.

Copyright © 2020 Eleanorah Starr and Quill & Orb Press, All Rights Reserved