If anyone's wondering how to pronounce alien words, let me know. I can give out translations and pronunciations.
Of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, Segment 4, "Joined":
Lydighet felt the boy's green-brown eyes bore into the back of his head the whole trip home. Soon enough, the pair arrived at Lydighet's homestead. The home was square with a lean-to roof, facing south. A small chimney jutted from the northeastern corner of the cabin. Lydighet opened the shack's door on the south side and gestured for the lad to enter. The youth stepped in, fidgeting, with furtive glances searching for a possible escape route. Lydighet brought up the rear, unobtrusively latching the hidden lock of the cabin's only door.
“Sit,” ordered Lydighet, pointing to a wooden rocking chair in the southeastern corner of the single-room house.
The lad eased himself into the antique piece of furniture.
Lydighet placed his staff in the northwestern corner of the room, where his poncho was draped over a fur-plastered granddaddy of an armchair. He moved over to the cast iron stove. Lydighet deftly prepared two mugs of a dark brown, milky drink. Lydighet set down the kettle and brought a mug over to the boy. Once the young lad secured the toby, Lydighet went over to his huge chair. Taking a large swig of the frothy liquid, the wizened man relaxed, slipping down into the soft furs of the cozy seat.
The elderly man spoke, “The drink is called sjokolade, the best of all drinks. Warms even the coldest bones. The recipe has run in my family for unknown generations.”
He took another gulp of the boiling cream, “Taste it, boy.”
The lad did so, gingerly tipping his tongue into the sweet foam. With the first gulp, his eyes widened, forgetting it was just off the stove.
Swishing his mug, Lydighet smiled, “You'll get use to the heat. The best flavor only comes with steam, but it's still good when its cold.”
The stripling took the man's word, setting the fuming beverage on the floor.
The old man finished off the his drink with a healthy, satisfied draught. Contented, Lydighet put the mug on a small table standing beside his chair.
Settling his hands into his lap, Lydighet cleared his throat and began his spiel, “Now, son, you've told me you don't know your name. I believe you. I'm obliged to tell you mine. It is Lydighet.”
Pausing for emphasis, he continued, “If you don't have a name, you must not have a known family, and I assume, since you don't have a family, you probably need to provide for yourself. That's why you have been stealing tools from Mr. Trassig's barn.”
Lydighet let his words penetrate the boy's thoughts and asked, “I am correct in what I say?”
The youth felt the man's question was more of a statement, but he answered confidently, “Yes, sir, you're correct.”
Satisfied, Lydighet forged on, “Son, in the world we live in, people don't find it pleasurable to having their things 'borrowed' out from under their noses. For Mr. Trassig, the man you've been stealing from, this is especially true. He's a hard man. Not even the roads running near his fields have escaped his possessive spirit.
“Since the Trassigs are gone along with the most of the village, I'm going to keep you under my nose until you've proved yourself worthy to live responsibly on your own. From now on, until I say otherwise, you're a fugitive to be watched and ordered about by me.”
Lydighet's piercing gaze shifted from his hands into the youngster's eyes, “Understood?”
The adolescent couldn't explain it. Not only was he unable to refuse, but he found that he did not want to.
The boy rose, strode to the man's chair, and thrust out his hand, “I accept your judgment.”
Lydighet hid a smile. Lydighet grasped the boy's palm firmly and shook.
“For a start,” Lydighet rose, forcing the lad to step back, “I'll tell you how to make your evening meal.”
If you enjoyed this, check out Of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, Segment 1 (Topic 25233)!
