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'Cairnholy II' Prehistoric Chambered Cairn, nr. Creetown, Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland
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nosasblog · 2 months
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Carn Glas Chambered Cairns, Inverness: An Update
by Jonathan Wordsworth The following is an addendum to the previous Carn Glas blog post of July 2023. Drone image of Carn Glas after clearance of gorse looking north to Inverness and Moray Firth ©AHickie It took two more days of work in August to clear the remaining gorse scrub off the cairn to reveal the monument in its glory.  With funding from Historic Environment Scotland we were able to…
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blueiskewl · 5 months
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'Incredibly Rare' 5,000-Year-Old Tomb Discovered in Orkney, Scotland
A three-week excavation took place at the Neolithic site at Holm.
Archaeologists have discovered the ruins of an "incredibly rare" 5,000-year-old tomb in Orkney.
Fourteen articulated skeletons of men, women and children were unearthed at the Neolithic site at Holm on the mainland.
Experts from National Museums Scotland (NMS) and Cardiff University also uncovered additional human bones following a search for the tomb's precise location.
Volunteers and students from the University of Central Lancashire made other discoveries during the three-week excavation, including finding further remains, pottery, stone tools and a bone pin.
NMS said the Neolithic site had been buried beneath a pasture field after it had been largely destroyed without record in the late 18th or early 19th century to supply building stone for a nearby farmhouse.
In 1896, the farmer's son found eight skeletons at the site alongside traces of walling, a stone macehead and ball.
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The Orcadian's report on the discovery featured local antiquary James Walls Cursiter, who speculated that the site was a ruined tomb - which prompted the location of the 2023 search.
The excavation was led by Dr Hugo Anderson-Whymark, of NMS, and Professor Vicki Cummings, of Cardiff University.
It targeted anomalies recorded via a geophysical survey undertaken in 2021.
It revealed traces of a cairn more than 15m in diameter, which contained a stone structure accessed through a 7m-long passage.
The archaeologists said a stone chamber lay at the centre of the cairn, and this was surrounded by six smaller side cells that once had corbelled stone roofs.
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These features allow the tomb to be classed as a "Maes Howe-type" passage grave.
Only 12 tombs of this type are known in Orkney - including Maes Howe, Cuween and Quoyness - and are considered the "pinnacle of Neolithic engineering" in northern Britain.
Dr Anderson-Whymark said: "Orkney is exceptionally rich in archaeology, but we never expected to find a tomb of this size in a such a small-scale excavation.
"It's incredible to think this once impressive monument was nearly lost without record, but fortunately just enough stonework has survived for us to be able understand the size, form and construction of this tomb."
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Professor Cummings added: "The preservation of so many human remains in one part of the monument is amazing, especially since the stone has been mostly robbed for building material.
"It is incredibly rare to find these tomb deposits, even in well-preserved chambered tombs, and these remains will enable new insights into all aspects of these peoples' lives."
By Jenness Mitchell.
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froody · 9 months
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How long do ghosts linger after the person dies? Certainly more than 4,000 years, the pyramids of Egypt are very much haunted. Our oldest ghosts usually date to the Neolithic era. You don’t really see any Mesolithic ghosts. Cairns and chamber tombs and things like that are haunted but caves that we find the remains of early modern humans and Neanderthals in aren’t really all that haunted. I’ve never heard of a caveman ghost spotting. I’m sure we had souls and unfinished business and things back then so I think there were probably cavemen ghosts at one point but they’re gone now. You hear about ghost dogs and ghost humans but you never hear about ghost dinosaurs or ghost Australopithecus (Australopitheci?) do you? I’m sure they’d be haunting us if they could, especially dinosaurs, they went out angry. I think the expiry point may be around 15,000 years after death? Unless I’m wrong and you have cool extinct hominid ghost stories.
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elfinismsarts · 8 months
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WIP Wednesday
I haven't done this in uhhhhhhhhhhh a while so here I am because I'm doing some editing and decided to share a bit from the next chapter of Blood of the Wolf since I forgot about this passage entirely and was like "oh snap okay" upon rediscovering it lmao
tagging @friend-of-giants @mareenavee @paraparadigm @thequeenofthewinter @thana-topsy @tallmatcha @changelingsandothernonsense @captainbrandoril @ehlnofeh @archangelsunited @snippetsrus and uhhh any other writer/artist moot who may wanna participate! No presh tho as always
Anyway, some Farkas introspection on his life choices. Slight cw for mentions of gore and death but idk who'd expect anything else from me lol
In all honesty, Farkas wasn't sure how he felt at the moment. He wanted to be angry that Firien was going to leave, clearly halfway to sneaking off into the night when he saw her, but she hadn't. She had turned back, and she had helped him, saved him even. He had never been the type of person to hold onto anger and resentment, especially toward those he cared for. Skjor had told him many times over the years that his kindness and soft heart would some day get him killed, but here he was, still alive and still doing his damnedest to stay kind and forgiving. He hadn't mentioned anything to Vilkas, as he knew matters between his brother and Firien were rocky enough as it was. Before the bandits attacked the river camp, he had heard them talking and laughing on the ridge, and he didn't want to ruin that for them. Firien's attempt at leaving would stay between them, unless she chose to break the silence herself.
Not only that, but the fight had scared him. Farkas had killed before. Countless times, as a matter of fact. But that had been his first real exposure to violence and bloodshed since leaving Whiterun, and the memory of those final hours within the city's walls came rushing back to him in an instant. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he had shoved most of that horrible night away and tried to forget it all. He remembered a long time ago, when he had gone with Tahir to the Valtheim Towers just southeast of Whiterun to retrieve whatever Silver Hand journal Aela had wanted. He remembered seeing Firien break that Orc's neck with her bare hands and later, he asked Tahir if he had ever done such a thing. There was almost a... disconnect between killing someone with a weapon and using one's own hands to do it. As Tahir had pointed out, Farkas had killed many when in the skin of a wolf, but true to what he had said then, he felt as though he was hardly even present during those times. The one instance being when he had weaponized it- used it as a tool to protect Firien from the Thalmor. Even in that moment, it had been different from Dustman's Cairn.
Tahir wasn't a werewolf yet when they had gone to the Cairn, and the Silver Hand would have had a damned hard time getting anything out of him since he didn't actually know anything and they would have let him go or killed him. The Silver Hand, brutish and violent as they may be, weren't torturers. They were werewolf exterminators, backed by Ulfric or no, and killing innocent people with no ties to the Daedra wasn't something Farkas believed they did, but it was a chance he wasn't willing to take. So when he had Changed in that chamber, he had done so mindlessly to protect both himself and Tahir as an act of instinct.
But against the Thalmor, he had willingly chosen to Change. There was no instinct, no immediate danger posed to him. In fact, the only danger came from the fact that he had placed himself directly between the source of it and Firien, which had been his choice.
And even then, even as he used the claws granted to him by Hircine to slice through skin, shred intestine to ribbon, and tear into muscle, sinew, and bone as though they were little more than frosting on a cake, it still paled to the feeling of that Stormcloak woman's head caving beneath his hand as he smashed it against the cold, stone wall of the Dragonsreach dungeon. How easily she had succumbed to his strength. Her skull and all it protected had turned to soft and bloody mush in just a few strikes against stone. And he had done that to her.
Farkas shuddered at the thought, hoping no one noticed. But Firien turned her head ever so slightly, apparently having felt it against her back. He said nothing, and she didn't ask. Part of him hoped she would, but he knew if she was going to, she wouldn't do it where others could easily overhear. She would wait until they were alone and could speak freely. 
He tightened his grip on Spoon's reins as he tried to control his sudden feeling of revulsion and discomfort. The only reason he had killed that Stormcloak so violently was because he was unarmed, and Firien was unarmed, and they were dealing with two very much armed enemies. Two people who didn't know them enough to care about killing them or incapacitating them enough to bring to Ulfric, just as he and Firien didn't know them enough to care about what lives they may have lived before that moment. It was about survival. Farkas needed and wanted to protect her, to save her from those who wished to do her harm, but when he had sworn his oath, he had never anticipated anything like this happening, and the revelation of how far he had gone for her, and how far he was still willing to go for her was unsettling.
And how much further would she take him? Who would Farkas become in his desire to uphold his oath to her? At what point did it go beyond the oath and become his own undeniable need to protect her and keep her alive?
There was also the matter of his own secrets. For whatever reasons, Firien believed she lost Tahir because blood loss had claimed her. She had no recollection of Farkas striking her over the head with the pommel of his sword with just enough force to knock her unconscious, but not enough to harm her. His precision scared him and left him wondering at what point had he learned to do that.
She had given him no choice. Her leg needed tending to and he knew she would stop at nothing to follow Tahir. And Farkas felt so damned guilty about it. Especially because she blamed herself and believed she failed him.
Twice now he had tried to come clean to her what really happened that night, but the words wouldn't come. The wrath, hurt, and betrayal she would undoubtedly feel would be his ruin. Even if it had been yet another act to protect her, even if only from herself, Firien would never see it that way.
Still, he had to tell her. Eventually.
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hazelmayn · 5 months
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CRYPTOLOGY
The Butterfly in honored Dust
Assuredly will lie
But none will pass the Catacomb
So chastened as the Fly –
E. Dickinson
Coming to Terms with the Terms
When dealing with tombs and graven things one can happen upon many evocative terms. What exactly is a sepulcher vs a sarcophagus? Sometimes these things are conflated within the popular tongue. But a true grave-robber knows the difference!
TOMBSTONES & CAIRNS
They are mostly the same. A cairn is an ancient version of what tombstones are today. Yet both retain that they are a grave marker of sorts. Smattered across the earth; they are simply the image-burn of an eons-lived sapience.
Cairns
As simple as a stacked pillar, pile or structure of stones. Beyond this, they are diverse. Some have passage-ways, while others appear as a wall.
Tombstones
Carved headstones. Upright or lain into the earth. They are beautifully made stelae with depictions of art and written epitaphs. Six-feet below, in the earth, lies the resting dead. With all their macabre possessions especially chosen to forever collect dust and grime with the interred.
CEMETERIES & GRAVEYARDS
These two are mostly the same. A plot of land, above the ground, where many cairns or tombstones are laid bare. The one difference being this: Cemeteries exist on their own plots of land, open to all. Graveyards exist on the plot of land surrounding an important structure. Such as an abbey or a manor house.
MAUSOLEUMS, BARROWS & CATACOMBS
These are great cemeteries, cities for the dead. Where the interred rest in chambers and not wrapped in dirt. Cut-off from daylight and fresh air. Sealed away, in the dark and the dust.
Mausoleum
A grand monument and structure to store the venerable interred. Usually above ground as a fortress. More often than not, they are plundered and long ago re-purposed.
Barrow
The Ancient version of a Mausoleum. Usually designed as, or inside of, a hillock. They boast numerous earth hewn passageways as well as false entrances, purposely crafted to confuse the unwary vandal.
Catacomb
Here lies the true tomb-stalker’s delight! They are an underground cemetery with numerous corridors and chambers containing the resting dead. Along with many a lifetime’s trappings, treasures and travesties. They lie in wait, within their complex halls, both pilfered and untouched alike.
TOMBS, CRYPTS, OSSUARIES & OUBLIETTES
These are the diverse chambers and corridors that form the final resting place for the interred. Usually as part of a greater complex within a mausoleum, barrow or catacomb. Here are some of the differences between them:
Tombs
Also known as Sepulchers. They are the singular chambers & rooms where the interred settle into their final resting place. These spaces can be of any size and house any number of resting dead. They are typically entered via an archway or, very rarely, a door of some sort.
Crypts
Possess the same qualities as Tombs with one crucial difference. Crypts, by their nature, are hidden or sealed away. They are exclusively entered via Sealed Stone Doors or Hidden Secret Doors.
Ossuaries
They can be either a Chamber or a Corridor. These are spaces to inter the venerable bones of the nameless dead. Each skeleton, skull and individual bone is placed with care into the architecture itself in reverence.
Oubliette
This is a malevolent place to inter the forgotten dead, forever to oblivion. Often buried alive and locked away in the dark or a maze. Other times a mass grave, thrown to darkness with a forgetful curse. They are often entered from a trapdoor in the ground or a locked and barred door, with no easy way to get back out of.
SARCOPHAGI, COFFINS, LOCULI & GRAVE NICHES
The specifics of how and what contains the resting dead inside of their chambers and hallowed halls.
Sarcophagus
The most ornate and regal way the dead can rest forever. Usually a stone boxed container, covered with a stone slab. Made of limestone or granite, and in rare cases marble. In very rare cases, the container is carved into the likeness of the interred.
Coffin
The same as a sarcophagus except it is made of wood and nails. Usually for the more commoner types of interred. Most often buried in the earth, or lined up in a single chamber.
Loculi
Ornate coffers built and lined into chamber walls. Made of small squared recesses carved into stone. Sealed or locked with square doors of stone or copper. Sometimes embellished with epitaphs or bas relief. Appear as many together, rather than just one or two.
Grave Niches
The lesser version of Loculi. Simple horizontal and rectangular niches carved into stone walls. The dead rest open to the air of the chambers and corridors they are in.
URNS & COLUMBARIUM
Urns are the jars, jugs, ceramics and amphora that contain the ashes of the dead. With a Columbarium being a chamber or corridor containing shallow square coffers specifically carved into the walls in order to display urns.
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leofrith · 4 months
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sending you more. 12, 21, 22 🩵🩵🩵
12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them
it's not as if he's even unpopular because he is about exactly as popular as his very small amount of screen time warrants. 😭 but leofrith is the character of all time he is so deep (in my head) and he has so much going for him as a character (in my head) and if everyone paid more attention to him they would see how interesting he is (the version of him that exists in my head). ... in all seriousness though, there is so much there that never gets any deeper exploration because this fucking game is allergic to developing its characters and relationships even in spite of the insanely long run time. like i know i keep bringing up the notes, but he's gotta be the character with the most notes referencing him just lying around the map (and i don't even think i'm being biased when i say that). he's extremely loyal to a degree that blinds him to his better judgment (and hiiii i know another character like that 🤡)!! he's very protective of his people!! he loves his sister!!! he's honorable!!! he's covered in his own blood!!! he's on his way to rome to commit regicide!!! he's tall!! this has been a ted talk.
21. part of canon you think is over hyped
i'm going star wars for this one, but the general fan response to basically... any star wars show post-mando s1 (not including andor because that one deserves every bit of praise it gets) is uncritical to a pretty embarrassing degree. again, i'm speaking mostly of the general fandom outside of my little hater echo chamber, but the amount of bending over backwards a lot of people do to explain why mando s3 or ahsoka are good actually just blows my mind. you don't have to make excuses for it!! finding a bad show enjoyable is totally fine!!! i promise it's literally fine. but the way a lot of people try to explain away some of the truly awful writing is actually maddening.
22. your favourite part of canon that everyone else ignores
the cairn dialogues in valhalla get (quite reasonably) ignored a lot of the time because doing the cairns is actually rage inducing, so i understand why a lot of people steer clear of them. but that also sucks because i do really think that those dialogues do more for building up eivor and sigurd's relationship and eivor's childhood than anything else in the rest of the game. it's obviously a shitty call on the part of the narrative director (hi darby) to regulate what i consider to be very important pieces of eivor's character development to a total chore of a side activity, and i wish they had better integrated those into the main storyline somehow.
send me a number!
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The Ultimate UK Stone Circle Roadtrip: 8 Days, 15 Prehistoric Sites & I Even Estimated How Much It Would All Cost *ya welcome*
As spring finally settles in and makes way for a glorious British summer (*insert joke about rain, I guess?*), it’s time I commence my annual hobby of dreaming about adventurous things I never actually get around to doing.
But this time, I thought if I shared my plans - including a full list of where to go, the route to take *and* how much it’s gonna cost ya - someone would as least be able to be adventurous for me.
And hey - this time it’s on you!
I’m probably going to be spinning out a few of these this summer, including a haunted pub crawl and a haunted house road trip, so you best be staying tuned.
Buckle your seatbelts, kids. It’s gonna be a wiiiillllld ride.  
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DAY 1
Boscawen-un stone circle, Cornwall
We start at the very edge of England: somewhere in Penzance. This late Neolithic, early Bronze Age stone circle (sometime around 2500 to 1500 BC) consists of 19 stones in the shape of an oval. In the centre is a leaning stone - and why it’s leaning is unknown. All are made of grey granite apart from one which is made of bright quartz. There is a gap in the circle that we think may have been an entrance. The circle is about 25m wide.
Boscawen-ûn is Cornish for “elder tree on the downs”, and was likely just a place for ceremonies and rituals, with the bright quartz probably chosen as a sacred stone. We think it was used not just for healing but also related to the moon as its 19 stones are either referencing the cycle of the moon (18.64 years long) or the Metonic cycle of the moon and sun.
If you manage to get there for the Midsummer solstice, you’ll see two axe-heads carved towards the base of a standing stone. If you miss it, try again for Halloween and you should see the setting sun slot itself between the centre and quartz stones.
Brisworthy stone circle, Dartmoor
You’ll need to take the A30 to get to your next destination. Following the two hour drive, you’ll arrive at yet another oval stone circle built in the Bronze Age. This cluster of 24 stones (which we actually think is only half of the original number) stretches out to about 25m in diameter.
This little known stone circle might not get many visitors, nor is there much history or folklore to delve into, but it will give you a much-needed break before our next - and possibly most exciting - stop.
I recommend sleeping over between here and the next stop.
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DAY 2
Avebury henge, Marlborough
During the three hour drive along the M5, try and recap your knowledge of prehistoric Britain - you won’t want to waste your time at this stop. Built sometime between 2850 and 2200 BC, the henge actually encloses part of Avebury village in a circular bank and ditch. Within that henge sits Britain’s largest stone circle which in turn nestles two more stone circles.
We’re pretty sure it was used for rituals and ceremonies, which isn’t new or unique. Some historians think it may have specifically been built for rituals to appease the “powers of nature”, i.e. preventing disease and extreme weather. But what is unique is how it’s still considered a place of worship for modern pagans, who troop here nearly as much as Stone Henge.
Grey hill stone circle, Chepstow
It’s only a one hour drive along the M4 to the next stone circle. This set of 13 low-slung stones - which a couple tall outliers just outside the edge of the circle - is believed to have been the remains of a destroyed chamber tomb. You’ll also find plenty of other prehistoric monuments in this area including a handful of standing stones, a few burial cairns (mounds of stone) and some hut circles.
Mitchell’s fold stone circle, Shropshire
You’ll need to take the A49 for little over two hours to get to our next stop, it’s just over the Welsh border. Also known as Medgel’s Fold, this Bronze Age circle is just outside of a cute lil’ village called White Grit. This circle is rather controversial, however, and has repeatedly been vandalised, whether by a local farmer in 1995 or various pagans leaving firepits and broken booze bottles after celebrations.
This ellipse stone circle, just over 80 ft in diameter, has amassed quite a bit of folklore in its time, too. It’s claimed that a giant owned a cow which gave him unlimited amounts of milk used the circle (I don’t know what for, but hey, it was his circle) until a witch milked the cow and drained it dry. As punishment, she was turned into stone and then surrounded by other stones to stop her from escaping. If that tale doesn’t get your goat (or cow), some claim King Arthur took Excalibur from one of these stones.
If you’ve got some spare time after visiting this stone circle, why not take a 1 mile stroll over to the Hoarstones?
I recommend you sleep over somewhere near Warrington to split the next long drive up a bit.
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DAY 3
Castlerigg, the Lake District
Follow the M6 for a couple hours for one of the UK’s most famous and oldest stone circles. The 38 stones that make up the nearly 100 ft wide stone circle have fallen under extensive research, with no certainty as to whether they were trading places or religious centres. Castlerigg has also gained a lot of its attention for its picturesque scenery. Don’t forget to take in the Thirlmere Valley, while you’re there.
Glenquicken, near Kirkcudbright
Also known as Billy Diamond’s Bridge, this oval stone circle comprised of 28 stones - and complete with central pillar standing at 6 ft tall - is a muted, rural spot. It’s the perfect place to take a breathe and start our Scottish leg of the roadtrip.
The Argyll stone and St Conval’s Chariot, Renfrew (by the Normandy Hotel)
You’re final trip of the day will take you about two and a half hours on the A77. And okay, fine, this isn’t a stone circle. But hey, these two kinda unrelated but close together stones are definitely worth a visit.
The first stone is called St Conval’s Chariot. Apparently, some bloke called St Conval was just resting on this stone back in the 6th century, and then all of the sudden it started floating out to sea. The saint came ashore at Renfrew, and that’s where he decided to found his new church. According to lore, it was the base that held the cross in his church, and travellers and the sick would come to the stone to drink rainwater that gathered there, believing it to have healing properties.
The Argyll stone has a similar legend but it’s set 300 years later. Supposedly, the 9th Earl of Argyll - when fleeting capture - was resting on this stone when he was caught by two militiamen. He was later beheaded after capture. Some say the stone was still stained for years after his death.
I recommend you sleep over near Glencoe to break up the drive between this stop and the next one.
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DAY 4
Callanish standing stones, basically at the top of Scotland
This is your only stop for the day, and it’s a big one. You’ve got a 6 hour drive up ahead, including a ferry trip.
Predating Stone Henge, this stone circle was a critical spot for ritual activity for about 2000 years. We think these stones were erected for astronomical observation. But regardless of the little history we have about it, it’s an incredible spot to visit. The cruciform pattern (in the shape of a cross) is made up of 13 stones with an average height of three metres. Against the backdrop of the Scottish coast, tucked away on one of the most northern islands, it is well worth the long journey.
I recommend you sleep over near the Cairngorms national park to break up the next drive.
DAY 5
Threestone Burn stone circle, Northumberland
It’s a four hour trip to your next stop, and it takes us all the way back to England. Nestled in the north east you’ll find what remains of this Bronze Age stone circle. Made up of 16 pink granite stones, it’s about 30m wide and is sat near Threestone Burn.
I recommend you sleep over here - this is a long drive through Scotland, and you’ll be knackered.
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DAY 6
Twelve Apostles stone circle, Leeds
It’s a three hour drive down the A1 to Leeds for the next stop. Here, you’ll find eleven stones (where once was twelve, obviously) set in a circle reaching about 89m in diameter. They all vary in height and length and there may have been twenty, once upon a time. We also think it may have been built to observe celestial bodies. They have always been associated with the twelve apostles of Jesus, and the removed stone is supposed to represent Judas.
The Rollright stones, Oxford
We now come down to the midlands to visit three monuments just outside the village of Long Compton. There’s the King’s Men, the Whispering Knights and the King Stone, all of which vary in location, design and purpose. But what unites them is folklore.
One of the most famous tales tells the story of a king riding with his army across the country. He was met by a local witch who gave him a challenge he failed to complete. She punished him by turning him into stone. After the middle ages, when this tale found infamy among locals, legend has it the king and his men occasionally return to life, whether on various saint’s days or when the clock strikes midnight.
If you personally wish to practice a local ritual here, why not rip off your clothes and run around naked? Local girls would do this on Midsummer’s Eve in the hope they’d see the men they were to marry. Or, rub your naked body on the King stone to improve your chances of conceiving. Personally, I wouldn’t recommend either of them - you’ll probably be arrested for public indecency.
But I would recommend sleeping over nearby.
DAY 7
Nine Stones Close, Derbyshire
It’s only about two hours on the M1 to the next stone circle. Also known as the Grey Ladies, this stone circle is sat in a local prehistoric landscape crammed full of Bronze Age barrows and settlement enclosures. It’s perfect if you’re interested in ancient history. Although we know little of why it was constructed, some believe the stones represent supernatural entities. Only four stones remain.
Addington long barrow, Maidstone
It’s a solid four hour drive to our next ruins - and features a nice section of M25, which is always fun.
Constructed sometime 6000 years ago, this monument was designed to house the remains of the dead. It might not be a stone circle, but it’s constructed of about 50 megaliths. The main burial chamber has long-since collapsed and no remains have been found so far. If you’ve got time after visiting this location, why not check out Kent’s other long barrows including Kit Coty’s House and the Medway Megaliths?
It’s time for your last recommended sleep over - it’s your last day tomorrow, so rest up.
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DAY 8
Hascombe Hill, Guildford
For our final stop, it’s a simple one hour drive along the M25 to the site of an Iron Age hill fort in Surrey. Might not sound very stone circley, but rest assured one was constructed by modern druids in the 1990s.
So, how much is this roadtrip gonna cost you?
Disclaimer: fuel prices are f*cked, right now, so please do your own estimates and budget sudden increases.
I done did the maths for you and one bestie. Kind of. Like I took averages and estimates, and it’s a rough calculation of the total cost of petrol, overnight stops and any additional costs along the way.
This roadtrip is 15 stops in total and about 2110 miles.
Fuel and travel costs
The average car (like a VW Polo) can do about 400 miles on a full tank (45 litre) so you’ll be filling her up around 6 or 7 times.
At the time of posting, it costs 77 quid for a full tank of petrol (171ppl) in the UK. That’s about £500 on petrol alone. Sure, it sounds like a lot but imagine if you were getting 12 train tickets to take you across the entire country.
For the ferry to the Isle of Lewis for the Callanish Stones, *I think* it’ll cost you like £140 (it’s not too clear online, so this should be the maximum price).
Hotel costs
Average hotel prices in the UK are around 70 quid per night (you’re not staying in cities so less expensive, but I’m not well travelled so tell me if that’s a ridiculous estimate lol). With eight sleep overs that £560 on hotels.
Other costs
As you’ll be eating out and picking up sandwiches from petrol stations, it’ll be quite expensive in total compared to your weekly grocery shop where you make your own food. If you budget £30 a day - so you can skimp some days and then splurge on a pizza from Zizzis - you’ll be spending about £240.
Normally, stone circles are free to access. I mean, they’re normally in random fields on by motorways. Not exactly in the rose garden of a Tudor estate. But I recommend budgeting potential entry fees. Something like £50, just in case?
I personally can’t turn down a souvenir. A bag of fudge, a postcard, a crystal that’s really made of glass? Love it. I recommend a total budget of £30 for souvenirs as only a few are that famous enough to have souvenir shops.
So that comes to… £1380. For you and a bestie, that’s £690 each.
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Looking to save some cash?
Don’t buy souvenirs, just take lots of pics.
Do go to grocery stores and pick up cheap, healthy bits to make up meals instead of going to restaurants. Basically, be in a constant state of picnicking.
Do try and shorten the trip so you have to sleep over less. WARNING: don’t push yourself and drive far beyond your limit. Driving when you’re tired or driving late into the night is obviously very dangerous and just not worth it. If your bestie can drive, too, you can safely extend the amount of miles you get under your belt in a day.
This is just a framework for a roadtrip. If you’re ready to hit the road, I’d recommend you set out a route and book specific hotels so you can be sure you’re staying in budget.
If you liked this post, let me know by liking and reblogging. And don’t forget to hit follow to hear more roadtrip ideas!
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Gavrinis Cairn - Cairn in France in Bretagne:Morbihan
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The chamber is built of about 50 carefully placed slabs.
The biggest of these is the ceiling slab which weighs nearly 17 tons.
Such simple dolmen-type chambers, reached by passages, were very common in Brittany between 4,500 and 3,000 BC. At the same time, similar monuments were constructed in Normandy and Poitou, in Ireland, Britain and the Iberian Peninsula.
The chamber is reached from outside by a 14m long corridor or passage. Of the 29 orthostat slabs that form the sides of the passage, 23 are decorated with carved symbols and patterns. Some of the symbols appear to represent non-abstract objects, like axes and croziers or staffs. A common horn-like motif may symbolise cattle, a shape conventionally called the shield may be a very stylised human figure. More abstract motifs include zigzag lines, lozenges and snake-like lines.
https://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=9254
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thesilicontribesman · 7 months
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Giants' Graves South, Prehistoric Chambered Cairn, Whiting Bay, The Isle of Arran, Scotland
#giantsgrave #giantsgravesarran #longchamberedcairn #chamberedcairn #burialchamber #burialground #prehistoric #prehistory #megalithic #stalls #forecourt #archaeology #ritual #isleofarran #archaeology #neolithic #outdoors #ancientcultures #ancientsites #Scotland #stones
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nosasblog · 8 months
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Carn Glas Chambered Cairns and Essich Farm, Inverness: An Interim Report
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travelerintimeme · 1 year
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Neolithic Chambered long cairn, is it in the wrong part of the country
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parasite-core · 2 years
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I was thinking about my old Dragonborn Nonni today, and there’s a piece I never posted in full on tumblr because it was too long not to put under a read more and I’m on mobile. Now that I know how to use read more on mobile, I’m going to post the full piece.
***
Nonni and Serana made the long trek back to Winterhold. Nonni’s health seemed to begin deteriorating along the way. Although he’d long since mapped out where many of the bandit camps were that dotted Skyrim’s landscape, he refused to make a detour to feed.
“This isn’t good for you, you know. Vampires might not die of starvation, but you’re going to drive yourself insane from hunger,” Serana warned. Between their travels in the Soul Cairn, their fruitless venture in Morthal, and now their trek out to Winterhold Nonni was approaching two week without a single drop of blood passing his lips.
“I need to talk to Onmund first...” Nonni insisted stubbornly. The hunger was clawing at him, worse than ever before. Every day when he slept his dreams were plagued with twisted intense nightmares. When he was awake it was hard to think, hard to focus. His mind kept wandering, obsessively returning over and over to the desire for blood, the need to sink his fangs into something and drain the life force from them.
He had to keep pulling himself back from these gruesome flights of fancy. He needed to talk to Onmund first. He needed his husband to know what had happened, what he’d become, what he was unable to undo. He didn’t want to face him having willingly fed again. He would cling to the scrap of decency, just long enough to talk to his husband. After that...well, he supposed after that it depended on Onmund’s reaction...
Finally, the duo arrived in Winterhold. Nonni asked Serana if she would bring Onmund to the Arch-mage’s quarters for him. Before she could reply, Nonni cloaked himself in shadow with his vampiric power and vanished. He couldn’t be spotted by the others at the College right now. In part, he feared them seeing what he had been reduced to. His mind was distracted and confused, all he could focus on was the thought of blood, a flowing river of the life giving liquid. Anyone who saw him would know immediately. But more importantly, he wasn’t certain he could control himself if it came to that.
So he moved quickly, going straight to his chambers, far from anyone else in the College. There was no temptation in his quarters. No living flesh to long to rip into, no lifeblood to drain away.
Nonni didn’t know how long it took before his door opened, and Serana and Onmund entered.
“Shor’s bones! You look awful,” Onmund said.
“That’s a nice way to greet your husband,” Nonni said, although his voice was weak.
“Serana told me a little of what happened on the way up here. Something about needing to be turned again to get into some Soul Cairn place to get an Elder Scroll, and being unable to cure it this time?”
“I’m sorry, Onmund...” Nonni said quietly, his eyes fixed downward. He didn’t dare look his clever, good, handsome mage in the eyes. He deserved better. “I should have let her soul trap me. I should have known...should have known...” he broke off, losing focus for a moment. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have...I need to...” Nonni shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight. He ran his nails violently over his upper arms, as if the sting could focus him. As if it could make him forget that only one person in this room had a beating heart, and warm life giving blood flowing through his veins...
“Nons?” Onmund turned to Serana and quietly asked, “What’s the matter with him? He wasn’t like this the last time he was a vampire...or at least not when I saw him.”
“He hasn’t fed since he turned. Vampires can’t die of hunger, but it makes us...more than a bit unhinged if we go for too long.”
“The hunger is maddening...” Nonni said in a whisky voice not directed at anyone. “But I needed to still be me the next time I saw you. I needed...” Nonni broke off again. He needed blood. That’s what he needed. He needed an end to this hunger that was ripping him apart. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” Nonni stood, aiming to make for the doorway. “I shouldn’t have done this. I need to go. I need to get out of here.”
“Nons wait,” Onmund said. He stepped towards him, between him and the doorway.
“Be careful, Onmund. I don’t know how far he’ll be able to stretch his self control like this,” Serana warned.
“Nonni, don’t run away from me,” Onmund said.
“I can’t—don’t you get it? I have to—I can’t—I have to go, I’m going to hurt you. I’m just barely—I thought I could be myself for a little longer—but I can’t—I’m not—your blood is so—“ Nonni growled, clutching his head.
“Nonni. Malcanar. Calm down. You promised you wouldn’t do this damn martyrdom thing again. You don’t always have to leave people behind to protect them.”
“You don’t—“ Nonni groaned, looking Onmund in the eyes for the first time this evening. His fiery eyes looked frantic, like a caged animal’s. “You don’t get it. I can’t—think. All I can—All I can think about is how badly I want to sink my fangs into your beautiful neck and finally—finally stop this gnawing hunger. You need to let me leave. Don’t you get it? I can’t—“ Nonni’s words mumbled together incoherently at this point.
“This is because he hasn’t had blood? Will he be back to normal after he...feeds?” Onmund asked.
“There shouldn’t be any permanent effects if he feeds sooner rather than later,” Serana replied. “But at this point he probably won’t have the awareness when he starts to not completely drain whoever he feeds on. He should have just gone after some bandits on the road on the way here, I don’t know how I’m going to get him back in this state...”
“You’re his friend. You wouldn’t let him do something you know he’d regret afterwards, right?” Onmund asked. As he did he removed his hood and walked slowly to Nonni’s side.
“Hold up. What you’re thinking of doing is not a good idea.”
“Stop him if he goes too far. If he needs this to be lucid, I want to help him. Better me than some poor person in town at the wrong place and the wrong time. Just don’t let him do something he’ll regret.”
Onmund led Nonni to the bed at the back of the room. Nonni put up a token resistance, but he wasn’t in a mindset to do much else. It was taking his entire focus to not tear his husband’s throat open.
Onmund sat down, with Nonni next to him. He pulled back the fabric of his robe away from his neck, and guided Nonni’s face to the side of his neck.
Nonni tried to push away. “I can’t—please don’t—I can’t”
“You can. I need you to do this so we can have an actual conversation afterwards,” Onmund said, surprisingly calm for someone with a vampire mere inches from his throat.
“I don’t want to hurt you...”
“You’re hurting right now. If you hate seeing me hurt, how do you think seeing you like this makes me feel? I can take care of myself. And Serana’s here, she can make sure you stop.” Onmund brought a hand up, resting it gently on the back of Nonni’s head. “You don’t always need to protect me. Let me help you this time.”
Nonni let his mouth dip down to Onmund’s neck. Onmund swallowed as he felt sharp fangs scrape past the skin, but he didn’t bite down just yet. Instead, he said, “Last chance...I don’t think I can stop myself much longer...”
Onmund pressed a little harder on the back of Nonni’s head, silently encouraging him to continue. He gave a sharp gasp as fangs buried themselves into his neck, just above the shoulder. He felt the flesh tear, and the wet warmth of blood. Nonni pressed closer, lapping at the warm liquid, sucking at the open wound and occasionally sinking his fangs in again to keep the injury fresh.
As Onmund began to feel light headed, Serana stepped in. “That’s enough, Nonni,” she said.
When Nonni didn’t stop, didn’t so much as react to her speaking, Serana yanked him away harshly. Nonni hissed, bearing his bloody fangs at her. She hissed in response, and grabbed him roughly before he could try to go for Onmund again. Her red eyes stared down his fiery orange ones. “Stand down, Nonni,” she said, and this time her words were laced with vampiric magic.
Nonni calmed. When the magic faded, he shook his head, blinking like he woke from a dream. “Thank you, Serana. I’m sorry about that. I’m back to normal,” Nonni assured her.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about starving yourself pointlessly,” Serana said.
Nonni didn’t reply, because he was now focused on Onmund. There was were two bloody gashes on the side of his neck where Nonni had torn into him.
Nonni wrapped his arms around Onmund, pulling him into a tight hug, and as he did he channeled all the healing magic he has into him. It wouldn’t help with blood loss, but it would close the injury to keep him from losing anymore.
“I’m sorry, Onmund,” Nonni whispered.
“You’re an idiot...what were you trying to prove?” Onmund asked. His voice was shaky. Not just his voice, Nonni realized. Onmund was trembling slightly in his arms. Nonni released his embrace, moving to sit beside him on the bed instead.
“I don’t know. I guess I thought if I hadn’t drank blood yet, I could prove this wasn’t what I wanted. I could talk to you without feeling like a monster...like I’d thrown away our chance to be together...but then the longer I waited the harder it was to remember why I was doing it, and I just kept doing it to be stubborn...”
“That sounds about right,” Onmund said. He leaned in against Nonni, laying his head on his shoulder, visibly relaxing now that he knew Nonni was himself again. “You are the single most stubborn mer I’ve ever met.”
“That’s deserved,” Nonni admitted. “Are you alright? I took a lot of blood...”
“I’ll be fine. I’m a little light headed, but nothing too serious. Just let me stay like this for a bit and I’ll be fine.” Onmund closed his eyes and added, “In the meantime, now that you’re able to string together a real sentence, could you explain to me how this happened? From the beginning.”
“Of course.” Nonni ran a hand through Onmund’s dark hair gently as he told him everything that had happened since he’d left in search of Dexion, careful not to leave out any details.
“So, if I’m understanding, you chose vampirism over being partially soul trapped to enter this Soul Cairn place, because the other option had too many unknown factors that might have gotten in the way of you stopping this Harkon vampire?”
Nonni nodded. “I was afraid if I took the easy way out, I’d damn the world, and put everyone in even more danger...”
“You considered getting part of your soul ripped out the ‘easy way out’?” Onmund laughed at this. “You live the strangest life.”
“It would have been easier than facing you after doing something to throw away everything we had...” Nonni admitted.
“It doesn’t have to be throwing everything away, if you would quit acting like you’re a big threat and we’re all helpless.”
“But look at what I did to you,” Nonni said, gently placing a hand over the newly formed scar on Onmund’s neck.
“Nonni, you did that to yourself,” Onmund said seriously. “From what I’ve gathered, from what you’ve both told me, you would have been more in control if you hadn’t been starving.”
“He’s right. You need to quit trying to punish yourself for existing, that’s causing more damage than anything else you’ve done,” Serana chimed in.
“You told me you spent months here as a vampire the first time without hurting a single member of the College.”
“That was before I knew Molag Bal had set his sights on me.”
“You know, even if he decides to make you do something, it probably won’t be out here. What use would hurting an already destitute town and a handful of mages at the edge of the world do for him compared to...well, whatever else he might make you do.”
“He’s the Daedric Prince of subjugation. He’d do it to break me.”
“I think he managed that pretty well already,” Serana noted. “Do you really think a starved vampire has any will to resist him?”
Nonni didn’t respond, just looked away. He knew he’d screwed up. He didn’t need her to keep rubbing it in.
“Nons,” Onmund said softly. “I need you to trust me. And the others here. We can take care of ourselves, and prepare for the worst, if we know what’s going on with you. If you push us away every time you need help, and decide you need to be punished when no one else said as much, then you’re just going to keep suffering alone.”
“I’m...scared,” Nonni admitted. “I’m scared of myself. And of hurting you. I...if I hurt you, I’ll know I’m just a monster, that there’s nothing actually left of me...”
Onmund pushed himself up off of Nonni’s shoulder, sitting up so he could look Nonni in the eyes. The eyes weren’t the same as Onmund remembered, the sunlight golden irises had been replaced with a fiery orange. The look in his eyes though, that was all Nonni. Onmund placed a hand on his cheek. It was cold to the touch. “You aren’t a monster, Nons. And you have friends who can help you. Like Serana and I just did.” He leaned forward, placing his forehead against Nonni’s. “If you’ll just rely on us a little, we can help you through this.”
Nonni gave a shuttering sigh and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead back against his husband’s. “...You’re too good for me...”
“If you two are about to start making out, I’m out of here,” Serana said dryly, crossing her arms.
“Jealous?” Onmund asked playfully, breaking Nonni’s cloudy disposition with a laugh.
“She’s way out of our league. Trust me,” Nonni said.
“You’ve got that right,” Serana said, flashing them both a fanged smile. “Anyways, now that everything’s under control in here, I’m going to keep watch out front. Make sure none of my father’s men are lurking around.”
“Right. Makes sense.” Nonni agreed. He hesitated then added, “Thank you, Serana. Really. I’m sorry for being such a headache this week.”
“Just don’t do something that stupid again and we’re fine,” Serana said.
“That’s a tall order, have you met Nonni?” Ormund asked.
“Hey,” Nonni growled, jokingly pushing Onmund away from himself in retaliation.
Serana chuckled and left the room, giving the couple a little privacy now that the immediate danger had passed.
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dun-scathach · 6 years
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The megalithic portal of Cashtal-yn-Ard, Maughold parish, Isle of Man. The ancient burial chamber known as ‘Cashtal-yn-Ard’ stands on the edge of a hill to the northeast of Glen Mona, just to the south of Cornaa in the parish of Maughold, and close to the eastern coastline of the Isle of Man. It is quite a large megalithic structure at 130 feet in length. The name "Cashtal-yn-Ard" is thought to mean "The Castle of the Heights". Situated on raised land near the coast, the site provides impressive views overlooking most of the parish of Maughold and across the sea to the Lake District. Cashtal-yn-Ard is a large, oblong shaped chambered cairn, of ‘Clyde-Carlingford’ type, dating from the late Neolithic Age – roughly between 1,800-2,000 BC. It covers a large area of 40m (131 ft) long and 14m (46 ft) wide, and it still has its outer kerb stones, horned forecourt, entrance and 5 burial chambers. It is roughly aligned west to east. A semi-circular forecourt of six stones at the western end gives access, through a portal of two large standing stones, to a burial chamber of five compartments, originally slab-roofed. The slabs of these burial chambers are angled inwards and some have jagged edges, but sadly all but one of the roof-slabs have been lost, although this long flat-slab might not be the original one. Here unburnt bones, pottery and flints were found. With its five chambers it's quite similar in structure to the largely intact Brlas Knap long barrow in Gloucestershire. East of the the burial chambers is a mound of earth and stones reddened and fused by heat, which archaeologists can't explain. The whole monument, apart from the forecourt, was originally covered by a massive oblong cairn 130 feet long. Some of the large standing stones at the entrance have been re-erected or replaced. However, its large earth or stone mound, has gone – the stones now lost to local walls and farm buildings. The monument is very well-preserved and is said to be one of the largest of its kind in the British Isles. (presso Maughold)
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Dungeon: King Ternshal’s Cairn 
The crash of waves, the cry of gulls, the lure of secrets held beneath ancient stones. 
Setup: There’s just something about a crumbling ruin that calls to those with an adventurous spirit, something ineffable that speaks to our inherent curiosity and draws us into the dark. Generations of brave souls have taken up the torch and explored such foreboding edifices, for no other reason than they were there to be explored. 
The Cairn is one such place, a lonely heap of rubble on a desperate spit of land that was once the mighty fortress of a terrible raider king. As the stories go, King Ternshal claimed that his fleet was so mighty it gave him dominion over the sea itself, which rightly angered the local deity of the depths who brought a great wave down to smash the king’s fleet and bury him alive under the stones of his mighty fortress. 
Adventure Hooks: 
Fisherfolk up and down the coast still tell of Ternshal’s folly, especially on stormy nights when they mutter that the old king must be cursing in his grave, once again invoking the seagod’s ire. The party might hear of such tales while waylayid on such a night in a cozy seaside tavern, enjoying the yarns of travelers and old sailors while they warm themselves by the fire. The tale will likely spin out of control, while folks add in stories about the vaults of treasure buried along with the plunderer king, or the curse of drowning that’s said to follow anyone who disturbs the ruins. 
While exploring the upper reaches of the Cairn, the party is ambushed by the wight of a mad treasure hunter wielding the raider king’s ax and jealously guarding the secrets of the ancient fortress. For its part, the ax is quite bored of crumbling chambers and damp ruins, and decides to side with the party during the ensuing fight. Now in possession of an easily distracted magical weapon, the party must find a way to keep their new acquisition occupied lest it go stir up trouble for them. 
There’s said to be a hermit who lives in the caste’s ruins, a holywoman possessed of uncanny insights and a mouthpiece for the gods. Some claim that she’s the ghost of Ternshal’s queen, but when the party encounter her, they’ll discover that she’s quite alive, if addled in the way that hermits often are. Thinking that she lives in a grand palace, the dwarven woman will offer the party a lunatic’s hospitality, interspersed with flashes of divine providence and  precognition. 
Challenges & Complications: 
The echoes of the sea-god’s wrath pervade the cliffs surrounding the Cairn, drawing in storms and bone crushing waves to harry any form of exploration. A party could expect to cross a thin land bridge under driving rain, escape lower chambers as they flood in sequence with the tides, or have to defend against attackers while maneuvering over rainslick battlements. 
Though her name is long forgotten, the hermit of the cairn was once a powerful wizard who took upon herself the burden of guarding a dangerous artifact: the mummified remains of a mage consumed by parasitic nightmares. Warry of the corpse’s psychic contagion, and fearful that destroying it would unleash the nightmares upon the world, the hermit hoped to use the isolated ruins as an arcane midden, preventing its exposure to waking minds while sure that her own psychic defences would hold.  They didn’t, and now centuries on the remnants of her learned life are scattered around the levels of Ternshal’s cairn, just waiting for the party to stumble into them. 
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jomiddlemarch · 2 years
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The night is a tunnel, she thought, a hole into tomorrow
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No matter what was said later, she didn’t do it because of love.
Jessica let the story be told that way because it suited her better than the truth, though she did not pretend to herself she had had foresight enough to plan the explanation quite as carefully as Paul’s conception and birth; she let the story be told that way because it was safer for Paul and Leto and even, or most, for herself for her to be thought stupider than anticipated. Better that she be thought weaker and more susceptible to a man’s wiles than any Bene Gesserit in ten generations, for all that Leto made so little effort towards seduction that she’d worried it was not her own shortcomings but a general disinclination towards women in general, especially when she saw Duncan Idaho sparring, shirtless and oiled, those enviably long lashes, so lithe and graceful he’d have been most decorously besieged at the Imperial Court for even an hour in his bed. Alone in the chamber of the reigning Duke, a room Leto had changed little since his father’s death as though any alteration might acknowledge his loss beyond his bearing, Jessica had discovered that whatever appetite Leto might have for his liegeman was inconsequential to their binding. He made no attempt toward disguise once she was in his arms, his hands and skin honest first, followed by his lips, his tongue, and finally, his dark eyes, making her understand that while his body hungered for her, his soul was full of longing, a desire he had not expected to be gratified by either a wife or concubine.
His resignation was what she’d first begun to love, his utter lack of demand or entitlement, and then it was the way he lifted his chin in the salt gale off the cliffs of the castle, the care he took in handing his heavy fur-trimmed mantle to the serving woman who met his gaze when he came into his stronghold. He was sharp, as a blade must be that serves its master well, and he never forgot that his master was the fiefdom, the fishermen and sailors, midwives and gardeners of Caladan; he was gentle as the bone handle of the blade, that curves itself to the grasp of a killer or a woman protecting her honor. He was not a hard man to love, Duke Leto, twentieth of his House, and Jessica had fallen in love with him, slowly and then all at once. But she had not given him a son for that sole reason, though how much easier it had made her choice to contravene every principle of her upbringing, the voice within her which spoke with the Reverend Mother’s intonation, telling her she was to do what she was told, to bring forth the long-sought fulfilment of their dearest hope, their most cunning design.
It was among the cairns that Jessica had first wondered if there might be another way. She had read the inscriptions carved beneath the name of every Duke and Duchess, the names and dates of lesser interest than the mottos, some in a language so old she had to go to the Duke’s library and search the volumes for a translation. Many of the Dukes had chosen a variation on By the strength of horns of the bull, but there were a few who hadn’t. And the Duchesses were remembered with a wide array of phrases, light from the sea, the seed and the sloe, hive-keeper, and weaver of dreams, the last the apothegm of Leto’s grandmother Khrysothemis, which drove Jessica back to the library, to the collection accounting books kept by the Duchesses of House Atreides, where she found what she had suspected: an alternate breeding line that had been concealed from the orthodox Bene Gesserit. It was not a guarantee of success, indeed, it was less likely to come to fruition than the Reverend Mother’s plan, that a daughter of House Atreides and a son of Harkonnen would engender the true Lord of the Universe, the Kwizatz Haderach. And yet, it was possible, what Khrysothemis had hoped for as had Babd and Philonoe and Cailleach-Nike, each leaving the most carefully innocuous notations in their day-books for the woman who would come next. It was possible and Jessica looked into Leto’s drowsy dark eyes in the pale grey light of a rainy autumn dawn and considered. She remembered Baron Harkonnen at the Imperial Court and the working of his jaw and jowls as he’d bitten the heads off a half-dozen ortolan, the way Leto had stepped in front of her and bade her drop her pearl-trimmed veil, his broad shoulders squared in his dress uniform, his hands crossed at the small of his back, the stance he took before an attack.
She conceived a son and she waited, drawing within herself to interrogate the chromosomes as she’d been trained. It was impossible to tell, it would have been impossible to tell even if it had been her daughter’s child fathered by the Baron’s young nephew Feyd, but the child she carried might be the one. And she loved his father. So she disposed of the syrupy gold bynyrwyal in the chased flask she’d been given upon her binding to Leto, and told her Duke he would have an heir at mid-summer. When they went out next to the cairns, she poured out the measure of wine for Khrysothemis and Badb, Philonoe and Cailleach-Nike, and whispered into the wind own prayer for the baby.
When Paul was born, his eyes were blue-grey like the sea beyond the harbor and coral reefs, like every son of every Duke of House Atreides, and he needed the same coaxing to nurse as the old housekeeper Marsail said his father had. He clung tightly to her finger and she stroked the curve of his cheek and thought, yes, it was possible, he might be the one they had all waited for. He could be and she would make sure he lived to see his path, whether it was one he would walk or fold.
Tagging @aquitainequeen​ @ellynneversweet​ @221bb​ for our earlier discussion re: the perilously small House of Atreides and general Dune world-building and also to refute what is referred to in canon as “the Jessica crime”
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