XMarine3053

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17 yr. old American third-positionist and European advocate

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Curious about the world. Conservative woman sick to death of PC culture.

In loving memory of Natalie 'Little Åska' ᛉ᛫åska᛫ᛟ ᛊᚢᚾ᛫ᛁᛊ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᛚᛁᚷᚺᛏ᛫ᛟᚠ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚹᛟᚱᛚᛞ ᛞᛁᚹᛁᚾᛖᛁ᛫ᛒᛟᚹ᛫ᛏᛟ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫᛫ᛞᛖᚲᚱᛖᛖ Sun is the light of the world I bow to the divine decree. Pagan. Isa thirst of lost waters birth. På den nordiska halvön fanns en gång en vacker tjej uppkallad efter Yule of Justice Winter Festival. På en tid som ånderna blir gamla, var hon en ny ström som sjelen sprang djupt och hjärtat smalt. Hon var snäll om du kom på hennes väg, hon skulle låta dig korsa lätt, men om du glider, akta dig, kan hennes djup och åskande strömmar lätt drunkna dig. En dag kämpade en ren ochre trolldomare och namngiven av rättvisa "just" under fallna stenblock när nya strömvatten förflyttade jorden frigör trölen men svepte honom i hennes djupa och isiga vatten, men hon lät inte honom drunkna. Hon virvlade runt och förde honom till hennes ös strand. När han förstod hur hon hade räddat hans liv, började han bli kär i hennes kristallklara, men ändå djupa och skuggade vatten. Han räckte ut för att röra vid henne, hon räckte tillbaka och höll fast vid honom, som solens ljus på jorden, han kände henne sval värme. Så fascinerad av hennes renhet, fördjupade han honom själv i henne och blev djup förälskad. Hon kände och kände hans kärlek, hon tillät honom att stranda sina banker med stenblock som han hoppades skulle ge henne styrka för hon var livet självt. För henne, bördan av hennes egen grova, som gett upp av sin mamma förlorat länge, kände hon sig svag. Hon gav allt hon kunde, men nedströms missbrukades och försummades hennes vatten. Han kämpade för att trösta henne, men han visste inte vad han skulle göra. Hon uppmanade Frejas ande, han uppmanade andens dr, men ingen kunde hjälpa. Men de hade sin kärlek att hålla dem bundna. Tròl försökte flytta stenblock för hennes stränder men hon var långt borta för hans ansträngningar, allt han kunde göra var att nå en liten del av henne, hennes hjärta. Tyvärr kom den ödesdigra dagen, hennes vatten runnit torrt, hon var bara ett lur i leran, det fanns ingenting den rättfärdiga mannen kunde göra men vänta och hoppas, han blev också svag och ledsen tills hon en dag inte var mer. Från den tiden blev mannen åskan i hennes vatten och spillde sitt eget blod och försökte ge henne liv. Vad som kommer att komma av det är ännu inte berättat. English---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Of the Nordic peninsula there was once a beautiful girl named for the Yule of righteous winter festival. In a time the spirits grow old, she was a new stream who's soul ran deep and heart narrow. She was kind if you came upon her path, she would let you cross easy, but if you slip, beware, her depths and thundering currents could easily drown you. One day, a pure ogre conjurer "trollkarl" and named of justice "just and fair" was struggling beneath fallen boulders when new stream waters moved the earth freeing the tröl but sweeping him into her deep and icy waters, but she did not let him drown. She swirled around and brought him to her islands shore. As he was comprehending how she had saved his life, he began to fall in love with her crystal clear, yet deep and shadowed waters. He reached out to touch her, she reached back and clung to him, like the suns light upon the earth, he felt her cool warmth. So enthralled with her cleanness, he immersed him self in her, falling deep in love. She knew and felt his love, she allowed him to shore her banks with boulders that he hoped would give her strength for she was life its self. For her, the burden of her own coarse, spawned of her mother long lost, she felt weak. She gave all she could, but down stream her waters were abused and neglected. He struggled to comfort her, but he didn't know what to do. She called upon the spirit of Freja, he called upon the spirit of Òdr but none could help. But they had their love to hold them bound. The tròl tried to move boulders for her shores but she was far to distant for his efforts, all he could do was to reach a small part of her, her heart. Sadly, the fateful day came, her waters ran dry, she was but a trickle in the mud, there was nothing the just man could do but wait and hope, he too grew weak and sad until one day she was no more. From that time, the man became the thunder of her waters, spilling his own blood trying to give her life. What is to come of it is yet to be told. I love you Natalie!

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