Kirstin's friend Renee says "come dancing!"
What is Beorn to do, when not one, but two nagging voices assail him? Beorn goes dancing of course. Beorn is gentleman.
But üwitændhes to him, it is not to be the familiar two step shuffle. Instead, it is "Salsas".
This is dance from the Southern Americas that Beorn knows not the first thing about, except that he is in need of more feet and an extra bit in his middle.
Wiggling of hips is important to this dance. For Beorn, it is like trying to row while he is facing the oar.
Renee she has danced these Salsas many time before and is quite good. She spin very fast. At least Kirstin has the same pair of left feet that Beorn have. Or maybe Kirstin have the left feet, and Beorn have the right.

I am sit most of the time and drink water with limes through a straw.
Salsa look like complicate dance, and too fastness. Beorn is grudgingly impressed by the work togetherness of some couples, but this is not stopping him nearly being hit twice by spinning peoples, and someone with pointy heeled shoes trod upon his left foot.

A girl that Beorn knows not, asks him to dance. It is more terrifying than running into trouble on a distant shore.
Beorn is know only a few things. The one-two-threes, the shuffle, and the limbo (only when he is merry). He is know a little of old danzleikr, and can dance in a circle to the left and to the right. He can go forward and go back, and even put his right leg in and shake it all about. Sometimes I am even knowing dances of eight peoples, but not this 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 & move like it no tomorrow.
Fortunatly, it is another dance, this of Meringues, which is easier on Beorn, it is like his two step shuffle, just a little faster. Beorn survives.

Then the band is play another dance called Samba, and it all over in the foot department.
When surrounded by small rodents, Beorn can see it is practical to be moving the feet this much.
The girl joins her group of friends, and they stomp invisible rodents like it is no tomorrow.

I can see why they are good at football in the South Americas.

~B.

Bedtime.

Beorn is playing of the game Tetris. I press tiny buttons on a little device, and plonk, the little squares move just so!
Kirstin, she reads of the Pimpernel of Scarlet.
It is not a name of manliness. Beorn has not much of a manliness description either, but at least he is not a delicate little petal.

Beorn "Bjarnbrún" is sometime of a name he get on account of his frown. He is also called "The Reluctant", a slightly unfair appraisal. I am merely making a studied judgement before agreeing to anything that may be of foolish enterprise.
Like reading a big book in which there appears to be much singing of songs ending in "-o", with Hobbite.
Beorn is thinking that such waste of times make Mr Sauron seem quite reasonable. Speculating also, is Beorn, as to what really happen with the missing auga of Oðínn. Perhaps it got bored and decided to go sit on a tower for a better view. Beorn cannot say but he suspects much, and understands little, of this book. Why he is being made to read of it, he is not entirely sure.
He would even be happier to read of the little Pimpernel - it is a much smaller book... Not that Beorn cannot read a big book, but a little book would be sooner done with, and Beorn could return to playing Tetris uninterrupted.

This handgame I am think would have been a great entertainment for those many days in a langskip. Yet I am also think there would have been fights over whose turn it would be, and it would be lost to waves in no time. Or Magnus would settle things by keeping it all for himself and Beorn would have to resort to counting seagulls again.

Beorn is not a little yellow buttercup of joy and happiness. Kirstin teases him and it is unfair. I am go back to the little bricks of intrigue now.

~B.

Additional, from K. ~ On a forum of my moderation, a link was posted to the work of a fifth grade class in Newfoundland. The children of Humber Elementary produced much wonderful artwork, and I even noticed Beorn smiling at it. A rare occasion indeed, for my buttercup of joy!

Mandagr, nítjándi, month 4. Þúsund sex hundrað átttu tigir ok fjórði.

It is about átta hundrað years, and still I am not having learnt of driving.
The longbus is only useful to a point, and not useful at all when it sails by the stopping without the stop. Oftentimes Beorn must walk.
Beorn is walking to the little park on the corner many times, and is knowing most of the pigeons by their first name. Some he is even knowing by the name of their fathers, usually is Grár Grársson, or Grár Grársdottir. (Grey, son of Grey/daughter of Grey ~ K.)

The streets of Auk'land are long and much the same at both ends.
Kirstin reminds me this is not the correct of spelling but with this being largest occupied city for these lands and still growing, Auka is more appropriate than Auck.
I am thinking also that "City of the Vátr-árangr" would not go amiss, as it is rain here many times, and is also surrounded with waters. And sometimes little boats. Sometimes big boats. And sometimes even very big boats of an unsubtle size which have somehow been successful in the raiding of shores. They bring their herfang home in the large metal containments of easy stacking.

Beorn is thinking that those big stackings would not have been a good use in his times long since. Not for langskipr even such as those that hold many men. The boat would sink most certainly, even if one could put two either side of the sail for balance.
But at home, Kirstin does have some very practical skokkr of plastics, with the lids of easy snap fastening and of a size as would hold at least half a man worth of treasures.
And they are proofed of water - something as would be most useful when at sea.
Many a time Beorn would have liked such a box as this, to keep the dryness of clothing. Not that his bag of the oiled skins was bad, but the plastic skokkr and the snickersnack lid would have made Beorn the envy of many.
Perhaps is sensible to have the oilskin bag then, for the box would only have been commandeered by Magnus. And he never got wet. Not even in the very seas of highness.
Then again, Magnus never tried to live in Aukaland.

~B.

Mandagr, tuttugu ok nfundi, month 3, Þúsund sex hundrað átttu tigir ok fjórði.*

Roast of lamb with little minted peas!
Beorn is very simple of wishes, simple wishes are of the easier granting, so tonight he is happy of stomach.
But she -who-scowls admonishes me for not doing more reading.
She will get wrinkles in holding this hnipinn face.

I will be making up some words to keep her of happiness. How I am considerate.
So the Hobbite are going on a big walk and the hobbite get to a place of drinking. Mr Gandalf is not there, Beorn is not surprised. Anyone who is wearing such big hat with so much beard is hiding something. All he is need are the glasses of darkness, and nobody be of knowing anything at all.

Then there is the smoking man.
More secrets are being kept of this Strider. Here is the novelty of words come to play, there are two older words of similarity to my hearing. Strïdha, which is meaning to make war, and stríðr, which is meaning severe.
A man bearing such a name clearly means more to the eye than the taking of big steps.

Hobbite are wise not to be trusting of him, and why again is not the ring being given of to Mr Gamgee who is the better prepared for such things? When one wishes to sneak quietly, one does not bring three others along for the ride!

The turning of the weather has begun. I am speaking of this world outside of the book. It rains smár tonight.

~ B.

* By the old reckoning of the Norse, where: Þúsund = 1200, + sex hundrað (720), + átttu tigir (80), ok fjórði (and 4th) - totalling 2004.
What were they thinking?!
~ K.

You are the one to talk!
~ B.

Is that a sink of dishes I see before me?
~ K.

You don't want me to reply, do you? I am thinking this is a hint. Your subtleness could be improved upon.
~ B.

Go get 'em Tiger! ;)
~ K.

Átti ok tuttugandi, Laugardagr, month 2, 2004

More from the large book.

I think there is much wasteful behaviour, and that Mr Gandalf should have given of the ring directly to Sam.
Beorn will not disagree with mushrooms, which in butter are quite tasty. They are even better when someone else does the cooking and the cleaning, but Kirstin is not wise to the hints of men.
It is as though her brain holds up a skjaldborg when Beorn is talking - no thoughts get in at all!

So. What more of the Hobbite? Beorn thinks they are off to a drykkrhøll named for a Pony.
They are also meeting the Álfrlið who are running away. Beorn thinks the álfr like their clothing clean and be hræddr of a little dirt or blóð lest it leave a mark.
This is not to worry. In times of trouble, is best to have the Dvergrlið instead. Beorn likes Dwarfe.
And Beorn knows how to use the þváskokkr.*

~ B.

*Þváskokkr - the wash receptacle = washing machine.
Now if Mr Cleverpants would also hang his washing out to dry, we might be getting somewhere.

~ K.

Have you looked outside lately? It is much rain, erfiðr woman.

In case you haven't noticed for the past many years, there is also such a thing as a þurrskokkr too, skapraunar man!

Yes I have noticed. Have you cooked mushrooms lately? That I haven't noticed.

That would be yesterday.

Yesterday is not today.

You ate them all. What's your point?

I like your fritters of corn almost as well...

And that would be a hint.

Yes.

I'll think about it, and you don't try pushing your luck.

Okay.

(I would never be pushing my luck, that would be foolish. Beorn is a very careful man, who knows when enough speak is enough. He can be as quiet as a tiny mouse. He also is knowing when enough type is enough, for the now, this is so.)

~ B.

Some day of the end of week bit, but Beorn is in bed and does not want to look for that which is a calendar, month 2, year fjórir.

Kirstin is being melancholy.
I think it is about love. Love is something Beorn knows about, but has little understandings of why it is so tricky in the workings for such a little word.
Beorn is thinking that if you could wield love on a field of battle, then there would be more woundings than any sword could accomplish. Perhaps with a little less of the bloodloss though.
That much is true.

My mission to comment upon the big book is going at the very pace of slowness.
It is clear to Beorn however, that in the first chapter Mr Bilbo-the-Hobbit is in collusion with the Dwarfe, and I am much incline to believe in the speculation of the other Hobbite that there are tunnels at the back of his house. Is simple. He did not invite the dwarfe to his party, and yet when he is back in the house, there they are. Unless the dwarfe have sworn to life of abstinence, I do not believe they would pass through this Hobbiton and not be partaking of öl at a party of special magnificence. It would be unseemly.
I do not think Mr Bilbo is to be trusted. Nor do I think is Mr Gandalf. Perhaps it is the hat. Time will tell is Gandalf reveals himself as Óðinn , or not.

~ B

Þorsdag 22, month 1, year fjórir.

>:(
See how Beorn has learned his making of faces with letters and such.
>:(
Beorn is making of a frown because somebody has been making photographs of Beorn's little sketches.



It is not the making of the photograph, but that then Kirstin says "Here Beorn, read this book and tell me what you think about it."

I am thinking it is a book, and it is big. Not that Beorn is incapable of reading such a book, with a hatted man who looks like Odinn on the cover. It might even be interesting. She tells me it is the book that comes before the movies. This much I understand, and no doubt it was also a tale before it was a book, recited from one person to another, just like Beowulf, and other Edda.

Beorn has no problem with that, as long as he is not expected to remember every word perfect. What Beorn is not happy about is the writing of what Beorn thinks about the book, that Kirstin has decided Beorn must do. >:(

>:( ~ B.

þrettándi, Tiwsdagr, month 1, two zeros fjórir.

Hai, Beorn has not even finished with the aldinnár , when a new one is thrust upon him.
Still, what is one more ár among thousands?

The best bit about the washing of dishes, is squeezing the bottle of soaps after tipping a little into the sink.
Sometimes Beorn is getting many little bubbles all foof up into air. Sometimes he is getting none, but that is how it is.
Kirstin she laughs, and says she will keep me around. I was not aware of the importance beholden to the washing of dishes, only that they are dirty, and Beorn prefers his dishes to be clean.
I wield the vápn of cleansing, and the dishes submit to my will, they are placed neatly upon the rack, so.
Maybe I have a mug of tea afterwards.
I have contemplated the brush that scrubs, and imagine that if it were made of metals and wood, and slightly bigger, that it would have made a fair vápn of battle.

Kirstin jokes that she will buy a toy boat and put it in the sink when I am not looking.
I know the foolishness of this. To sail in such foam is ósnjallr.

~B.

* * * *

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"Beorn" character, "Blogiþrótta", images and text © 2004, Kirstin Wright.