I have arrived home to find His drunken Norseness snoring gently on the floor. An empty mead bottle is in one hand, and what looks to be a loaded dip-pen is busily staining his other. I found this on the floor beside him:

If you wish, click on the above picture, to see a larger version. It might cause you some amusement in trying to figure it out... In any case, my translation is below, with additional notes in blue. Otruligr, indeed. He is still snoring - hang on... (nudges with toe)... no, he's not going anywhere. But there's a thin thread of drool connecting his face with the carpet. How charming! ;)

*****

Tuttugandi, month Fjórir, Tveir "0 - 0" Fimm.

And so, this be writings in Beorn's best "Russians"... ha!
Turns letter upside down, reads in mirror...
Here is being a little trick that Beorn is learning of, in the late 1400's, from a clever man of many ideas. It is ideal for the noting of one's private thoughts, as long as no mirrors are being in evidence.
Sometimes too, Beorn must write a further note saying:
Reads normally...
"This is being not writings for the amusements of others especially called "Kirstin", who should be going elsewhere."

Reads in mirror...
Sometimes she is listen, but other time, Beorn must become the orðmaþr! He is doing this in a number of clever ways... From the pretty books of the papi (eða prestr), Beorn is learn to write <atrocious gothic> like so. This is not so easiness howevers. Beorn may be making of skinny letters but now he is go further! So. Here is the special hanb (otruligr! I am make mistake!) </atrocious>
No more of the skinnies - but here now I am preparing for the clever trick of the upside down & back-to-front script - which Beorn-the-Clever tells Kirstin ' is special Russiani ', but this is not being all - no: there remains the subtle touch of the finishing... here is where Beorn is doing of a little forward writing and the day scrifwaz above... below! Otruligr, such cleverness...
Turns letter around again, reads normally...

~ B. who is a ' bear of smart thinks ' today! (small picture presumeably of a Norse "smiley", face mostly hidden by beard.)

*****

I really should shave one of his eyebrows off, you know...
;) ~ K.

Sunnudagr, Annarr ok tuttugandi, month tveir, 2 zeros 5.

Of recents, Kirstin is having her first lesson in Tai Chi.
She has also been doing of the Kung Fus as well.
Beorn is not so good in the remembering of this. Here he is like the Bear that seeks a fish, and as that is not a proper form, he is not know proper Kung Fus. Although there are many form of Kung Fus, so who is to say that Bear Seeking Fish is not form? It is very good for re-arranging the contents of the Kaldgózskokkr*, in any case.
But as we are try this Tai Chi together, maybe Beorn will be learning of it a little better.
The first movements seem to be the squatting, the rising, and the shaking out of sleeves to find that one has hands therein. This much Beorn know.

Tá, seilask - Toe, to stretch out one's hand. This is closest Beorn is come to understand meaning of the name by sound. He is thinking it a fair judgement of meaning.
On the subject of further mystery from the Øst, Kirstin tells Beorn that it is now the Year of the Rooster. Beorn is intrigued to find that the passing of years is now noted by animal. He looks forward to the Year of the Bear (Ek heita eptir á bjarndýr -"Beorn" er einga minn Ósárr-namn..), but it is his disappointment to learn he is not having a year of bears.
Beorn is ask what he is, if not born upon the year of bears. Kirstin is calculating Beorn to be a monkey! I am not feeling like monkey. I am thinking Bears. Bears also climb the trees, so Beorn is Bear. And sometimes Bear with Fish.

~B.

* Kaldgózskokkr - "receptacle of cold goods" i.e. refrigerator, I think... ~ K.


Fimmtándi, fyrstr month, tvau þúsund fimm.

Beorn is not a Pumpkin of Joy today.
He is morose, for the Vegetable Eaters came to dinner.
Beorn can eat the little sesame honeyed beans and mushrooms as well as the
next eater of vegetables, but he subtly implies to Kirstin that food of a
redder hue would not go amiss.
Beorn is given a tomato.

Svart Hveðrungr, Leggr Átta; it was creeping up the door.
Kirstin insists that Beorn is taking it outside at once. She will not touch it.
Beorn is not wanting to touch it either. Neither am I wishing to kill the beast,
for it has eight legs, and who is to say that the Aesir are not visiting? It
could be the very child of Sleipnir itself. It certainly moves fast, so that
Beorn is making a calculated leap backwards, and saying "Oh" in a manly way.
Kirstin does not wish to kill it, because of the mess.

So it is trapped within a glass cup and a book. Beorn is taking Mr Spider for
a walk down the footpath, discussing the nature of being trapped within a
prison that one cannot see, then so, he is flicking Mr Spider off the book
into the the wides of the darkening world.
Perhaps Mr Spider will enjoy a tasty matr af fly.

~ B.

Ný Ár 2,0,0,5.

Beorn does not make many mistake, but sometimes one is all too easy to do, like waking up for instance.
Then being told he has not written for over two month, and the year it is running out.
So here I am typing through no fault of my own.
Kirstin has had her parents over, they sleep in her bed, she sleeps in Beorn's little small bed, and Beorn sleeps on the floor, o lucky day.
Christmas, Beorn is given a present. It is a smar vikingr man with horns upon his little helmet.



This is no doubt a mocking at Beorn's expense, but endlessly patient Beorn will tolerate it as he must tolerate everything else at this moment. As the little man's appearance is from an inaccuracy, so he shall be named Fråm the Inaccurate.
Here is Fråm fighting off an immense ugla.



So now once again it is time for a ný ár, yet I had scarcely become accustomed to the one that was.
Still, what is a year among a þúsund, I should be used to it.

~ B.

Þrítugandi ok einn, month tíu, 2, 0, 0, 4.

There have been many smàr childrens knocking upon the door today, for Heilagr Eve. This behavings is quite recent to Ný Sjóland, but Beorn knows that offering the little trøll a bowl of small candies, prevents them from crossing the threshold of one's house. Thus sated, they leave Beorn alone.

But Kirstin is making Beorn wear the silly little hat of plastics, with the horns. I am asking her to at least let me remove the horns, which Beorn has never worn in his past. But she is giving Beorn the very look of sternness, so Beorn does as he is told, and wears the silly hat.

One small child is asking "Where is your sverð, Mr Viking?", and Beorn is having to tell the little boy (at least, Beorn thinks it is little boy hidden underneath all the lang hár...), that his sverð is lost to him in time long ago. Perhaps somewhere, one of Beorn's descendings may have it, or it may lie within ver, or vøllr. Perhaps it is rust, and scatter to the four of winds.

I am about to tell him that there is a Vápnsmíðr* who makes fine looking pieces á stál en stikkæ, but he interrupts, to tell me that my hat is too small for my head.
I whisper to him that I know this, but that a monster is watching (here, Beorn rolls his eye in a subtle direction), and that it will be very cross if I should remove it.
The child nods with all the wisdom of the Allfather himself, and is well pleased by the large handful of candies that fall into his pumpkin bag.

Beorn is wise too. Before all this door-knockings began, he picked out the sweets that he best likes the flavour of. He knows that children have as much discrimination as carrion crows on a carcass, when it comes to the eating of sweet things.
Beorn, with his benefit of near a thousand years to refine his taste, is only right in being selective.
Especially when he is made to wear a silly hat.



~ B.


The works of the person that Beorn was referring to, can be seen here -
Jake Powning, Swordsmith.
Beorn is particularly fond of Mr Powning's carved sticks.

:) ~K.

Tíundi, Frjádagr, month 9; 2, 0, 0, 4.

Kirstin is getting the discs of "learning to speak Íslenskr" today. She is thinking it will help her understand Beorn better! Hah! Beorn spends the better part of þúsund ár, learning Enskr, and yet understands Kirstin not at all.
Already she is having the nerve to say to Beorn that he is spelling his own name wrong! What is this pestering now?
It is not a matter for putting in a little "j", for that is not Beorn's true name either. It is the Aldinn-Enskr spelling, that Beorn decide he like one day, some many many ár ago, for it is like the sound of his oldest name. But Beorn is man of sometimes private, and is prefer to keep the old name quiet for himself. A name may have power, if one chooses to use it so.
Learning Íslenskr, maybe she is understand someday. Also on that day, apples will fall from the sky, and Beorn will discover the endless cauldron of roast lamb, minted greun pea, and smár potatoes of crispiness!

~ B.

Of later note, Kirstin is telling Beorn that she does have some understanding of namings after all. She is tell Beorn that many chose to use names not their own, when it is come to the computere. They are use that which is called an "ósárr-namn", as it sounds like, to Beorn. I tell her that this has the meaning of "unhurt name", to me. Kirstin raises an eyebrow of interest at this, and even tells Beorn that he might have earned a roast of lamb tonight! This is not yet an endless supply, but it confirms once more to Beorn that a name is of subtle value, be it ósárr-namn, or otherwise...

~ B.


Annarr, Thörsdagher, month 9, 2004

Today Beorn is accompany Kirstin and Kirstin and Nicholaas (there is more than one Kirstin in this world, but what has Beorn done to know two at the same time? Nobody is ever answer this.)
He is accompany them to see a midnight screenings of a movie about a little village.
Not giving things away is Beorn, to say that it reminds him of stories of things upon the woods. But the village story is for others to see, not for Beorn to tell.

Of his time long since gone, however, Beorn can tell you of another story.
Huldre is one such thing. When long time ago he was of a place his own, Beorn believe he did see Huldre once, in the forests. It was of a grey dusk, where the light goes so slowly, that it is dark before known. The distance, it was hard to make out, but Beorn thinks he did once see a face away among the trees - pale it was, with what seem like eyes. They blink just once.
He say "Hallo", and "Hvar er þar?", and the face is look a little longer, then it is turn and vanish away, no sound!
Some man, they would follow to be seeing what this lovely pale face is connected to, but not Beorn! Not only does he remember the tales, but he is also having of a good wife, two daughters, and two fine horses - which one day became only one fine horse, but that is a different tale to tell. In any cases, Beorn shrugs, leaves the mystery alone, and goes home before the night is complete.
The telling of Huldre, she is a beautiful woman, it is said, who lures an unwary man to follow her deep into forests. What they find, we are never told, as no man is ever came home again.

This is where the paraduck is, like the duck which is not exist in any but name. The paraduck of Huldre is that nobody really knows if it is a beautiful woman lost, for either those who see Huldre and not follow, never know the answer, or those who disappear may have gone to follow Huldre, or may gone for other reasons. Nobody know. It is still mystery.

Of all inventings Beorn has seen in his time (and there are some very sensible inventions), Beorn is liking the torch very much. The cleverness to make light go in one tidy direction, even upside down without the burning of the hand! With a torch, Beorn may have seen the face more clearly. Perhaps it may have been only a big owl.
But Beorn will never know.
He do know that it is not wise to go places without the leaving of a sensible note, if one does not know how long one will be gone.

~ B.

Incidentally, this idea of a sensible note is one which contains a vague directional arrow, the time of leaving, and a request for roast lamb and minted peas in the event that "one" might be home in time for dinner... ~ K.

Of course.

You don't pick up on sarcasm very well, do you?

Not without a large torch.

You are an enigma, set in a well of dryness, wrapped by a wool jumper that hasn't seen the inside of a washing machine for nearly a month.

In this forest of words, you are my Huldre.

Thankyou, I think.
P.S. - It's paradox, ninny!

Átti, Sunnadagr, month 8, 2004

Poor Beorn. What has he done that the world is being of complicated to him?
Kirstin she has recently joined of the gymnasium, a place of training where the only combatant one faces, appears to be made of bits of padded metal, with wheels, and heavy bits attached. And sometimes things that slide.
But Beorn is not being mocked for this.
Nor is Beorn the butt of jokes for walking into the steaming room - how is Beorn to know the steam is for kvinner only, in this room? Steam is steam.
Apparantly this gym it has two steaming rooms, one for menn, one for kvinne. Once Beorn finds the steam that is for him, all is good. There are no birch twigs though. And jumping into the nearby pool afterward is not easy when there are people constantly swimming backward and forward in the waters. I ask one why they are swimming when they could reach the end just as easily by walking along the side. Beorn gets a strange look, but what is new about that? And Beorn is not in trouble for getting the strange looks. He even give a good share of strange looks himself.

The strangest look Beorn is giving, is to the machine of rowing. Cycles that do not go anywhere, walking paths that move on the spot - Beorn can understand how it works, although maybe not the why.
But the machine of rowing? Beorn have a few issues with this. One.The boats that Beorn know of, do not have seats that slide. Two. An oar that stick out the side of a boat is not "one foot long with a string in the middle". Three. There is no oar, there is only a wheel with a little rope. What is this?
Beorn does not even begin to understand. He is doing a little pen and ink picture of the machine as perhaps it might function if one added a few things.


It is not even the pen and ink picture that Beorn find himself being mocked for.
It is the cleaning of the nibs.
Kirstin, she has a small box of Pads of Sanity, that Beorn knows about. An unusual name, Beorn is thinking. But they are practical, and very good for the blotting of ink. They have a handy little strip on the back, that one can peel off and stick to the carpet so that it doesn't move anywhere. Beorn often uses them for the purpose of cleaning his nibs.
Kirstin she come home, and bursts out laughing. She will not tell me why, but tells me next time she will get a spare box of Sanity Pads just for Beorn. It is suspiciously kind of her, but Beorn cannot figure out the reason for her laughing.
Ótruligr, Women are strange.


~B.

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"Beorn" character, "Blogiþrótta" © 2002, images and text © 2005, Kirstin Wright.