#tugdual

[livrosencaracolados]

"A Inesperada" (Oksa Pollock #1)

Sɪɴᴏᴘsᴇ Oғɪᴄɪᴀʟ: Com treze anos de idade, Oksa Pollock descobre que tem poderes especiais. Quando conta à avó o que se está a passar, é-lhe revelado o segredo das origens da sua família e a incrível missão que, apesar da sua pouca idade, lhe está destinada! A família Pollock vem de Edéfia, um mundo invisível e mágico, oculto algures no planeta Terra, que foi palco de um violento combate. Parte dos habitantes veio viver entre os humanos, incluindo Ocious, que é extremamente ambicioso e deseja tornar-se o senhor de Edéfia e do resto do mundo. E é sobre os jovens ombros de Oksa que recai agora a responsabilidade de salvar o seu povo. Ela é a sua última esperança...

Aᴜᴛᴏʀᴀs: Anne Plichota e Cendrine Wolf.

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ALERTA SPOILERS!

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O Mᴇᴜ Rᴇsᴜᴍᴏ: O primeiro volume desta coleção começa com a introdução da família Pollock, "primeira, segunda e terceira geração", que acaba de chegar à sua nova casa em Londres, pela qual a de Paris foi trocada. Sabemos rapidamente que a família não veio sozinha, trouxeram os Bellangers com eles para a aventura que os espera, algo a que Oksa, a protagonista, não consegue esconder o seu entusiasmo visto que Gus, o Bellanger mais novo, é o seu melhor amigo no mundo inteiro e não conseguia imaginar deixá-lo para trás. Com o avanço da história são evidentes os indícios de que algo fora do normal se passa no seio familiar de Oksa, e não só, mas com a adaptação a um novo país e a entrada na nova escola, St. Proximus College, não há tempo nem foco para a rapariga se questionar sobre esses percalços. Depois de um evento estranho e algo embaraçoso no primeiro dia de aulas, que sem dúvida leva a um ódio profundo pelo novo diretor de turma, Mc Graw, Oksa é obrigada a parar de ignorar o que se passa, algo reforçado por uma boneca voadora em chamas e uma marca em forma de estrela à volta do seu umbigo que lhe deixam a cabeça à roda. Sem saber o que fazer, Oksa revela os seus estranhos poderes a Gus, mas não tem grande consolo até apanhar a enigmática avó Dragomira, uma senhora russa tão distinta como excêntrica, e o resto da Baba's Band a segredar à porta fechada no apartamento. Apanhada em flagrante a ouvir o grupo, Oksa é introduzida ao bando de pessoas mais singulares que podia imaginar, a criaturas extraterrestres que falam como dicionários confusos, a plantas de uma sensibilidade cómica e a um mundo que ultrapassa todo o entendimento possível. O resto da obra é focada na protagonista a tentar conciliar a responsabilidade esmagadora de guardar um segredo que lhe pode custar a vida e a todos os que ama com a aprendizagem sobre a quase perfeita Edéfia e os seus costumes e ainda o combate a um inimigo perigosamente infiltrado na sua vida, que não parará por nada até obter a sua "chave" para a terra prometida.

Cʀɪᴛᴇ́ʀɪᴏs ᴅᴇ Cʟᴀssɪғɪᴄᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̃ᴏ:

Qᴜᴀʟɪᴅᴀᴅᴇ ᴅᴀ Pʀᴏsᴀ: Para o género do livro, eu achei a prosa fantástica! Só a nível de vocabulário eu, que me achava bastante eloquente, fui completamente "humildada"(se é que essa palavra existe mesmo). Aparecem dezenas de palavras a que não somos expostos no dia a dia e isso tem de merecer pontos porque, de facto, quem não se quer sentir mais inteligente quando fala? Só por isso o livro já é útil. O estilo de escrita em si também é bastante interessante, desde as descrições de espaços e criaturas nunca vistas até à forma como as emoções se desenvolvem, é algo único.

Hɪsᴛᴏ́ʀɪᴀ: O conteúdo do livro é fabuloso! As autoras criaram tudo o que faz de Edéfia e da família Pollock tão extravagantes elas próprias, os poderes e os funcionamentos peculiares da sociedade dos De-Dentro nunca são tratados como algo abstrato e misterioso que tem como única explicação "é magia". Além disso, é visível o cuidado posto no planeamento do desenvolvimento da ação, as regras estabelecidas relativamente à magia são respeitadas, quer isso beneficie ou não a protagonista, e os personagens são obrigados a usar a inteligência para se safarem de múltiplas situações. Os poderes não são usados como uma espécie de chave mestra para todas as situações, o que torna o livro muito mais interessante porque não há a garantia habitual do sucesso dos heróis face aos vilões.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀɢᴇɴs: A obra tem umas quantas personagens essenciais à ação, várias são consideradas importantes, não é o habitual caso de todos serem descartáveis menos a protagonista. Relativamente a ela, a Oksa é uma personagem cheia de defeitos. Como uma miúda de 13 anos é impulsiva, tem a tendência de guardar as coisas para si e de se intrometer nos assuntos dos outros e ainda não aprendeu a expressar o que sente da melhor forma sempre que o sente. No entanto, está cheia de empatia, a sua coragem cega em situações perigosas é algo que muitos de nós partilhamos quando os que amamos estão em risco e nunca abandona o seu entusiasmo caracteristicamente infantil em relação ao mundo novo que se expande em frente aos seus olhos, o que a faz entrar no coração dos leitores muito depressa. Ela é uma personagem muito bem escrita e os seus amigos e família não ficam atrás, para não falar até dos seus inimigos, todos têm as suas inseguranças, desejos e sem dúvida motivos por trás do que fazem.

Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ: Não há muito a dizer, as personagens centrais são muito novas e no primeiro volume desta coleção, fora paixõezinhas e pequenos ciúmes, não há, e ainda bem, relações amorosas a desenvolver-se. Apenas os pais de Oksa têm algum protagonismo como casal, mas para ser justa, são adoráveis.

Iᴍᴇʀsᴀ̃ᴏ: Há um mundo muito rico a ser descrito pela obra, um que Oksa e o leitor nunca ouviram falar, então é muito a absorver. Apesar do cuidado das autoras e sem dúvida, a mestria nas suas descrições, algumas vezes é difícil imaginar tudo o que nos está a ser contado, especialmente quando se faz referência a estilos arquitetónicos mais antigos que nem todos conhecem. Mas mesmo assim, não há grande crítica a fazer-se, é ainda bastante fácil estarmos imersos na história e a visualização geral acontece.

Iᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛᴏ: Este é sem dúvida um livro que fica na memória, especialmente se formos fãs de fantasia e particularmente criativos. Parece-me, apesar de ainda ter de deixar passar os anos para saber, que no futuro voltarei a pegar nesta obra, e que olharei para ela com grande carinho. Diria que esta história traz consigo um sentimento muito parecido ao que os fãs de Harry Potter ainda têm anos depois, o que não é descabido, sendo que o livro é reconhecido quase como a sua versão francesa (e eu acho que é melhor).

Cʟᴀssɪғɪᴄᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̃ᴏ Fɪɴᴀʟ:⭐⭐⭐⭐

Iᴅᴀᴅᴇ Aᴄᴏɴsᴇʟʜᴀᴅᴀ: Eu diria que 13 anos é a idade mínima para ler este livro, 14 se houver alguma sensibilidade da parte do leitor. Há algumas cenas fortes, especialmente as de luta, que têm algum sangue e um certo choque, e rituais algo obscuros muito brevemente mencionados. Também há referências a eventos históricos que são mais facilmente compreendidos a um certo nível escolar.

Cᴏɴᴄʟᴜsᴀ̃ᴏ/Oᴘɪɴɪᴀ̃ᴏ Fɪɴᴀʟ: Eu adorei o livro, sem qualquer dúvida. Transporta-nos para uma realidade emocionante, perigosa e lindíssima que todos sonhámos em viver a certo ponto e como mencionado anteriormente, há alguma aprendizagem incluída nas páginas. Assim, RECOMENDO!

Pᴀʀᴀ ᴏʙᴛᴇʀ: Oksa Pollock - A Inesperada, Cendrine Wolf - Livro - Bertrand

Assɪɴᴀᴅᴏ: Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ 𝐿𝓊𝓏 Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

[stormgrl19]

𝑅𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝐿𝑖𝑠𝑡

Requests: open

Languages: English

I automatically write for fem!reader, but if you ask I can also write for genderneutral!reader.

I also write Imagines for oc x reader. (I will try to make the OC like you describe it, but if you want, it can also be a surprise.)

I will not write explicite smut, so please don't ask me for it and last but not least it can or will take a while until your request will be written as I am really good at procrastinating, so please be patient!

Oh, and English is not my first language, please tell me when you find wrong spelling and grammar!

Oksa Pollock.

Mortimer McGraw

Tugdual Knut

OC

The 100.

John Murphy

OC

OUAT.

Peter Pan

Twilight.

Paul Lahote

Jared Cameron

OC

TVD/ TO.

Kol Mikaelson

Kai Parker

OC

Fate: WINX.

Stella of Solaria

Sebastian Valtor

OC

[tugdual-ama]

Why are you fighting with Gus non-stop?

We are not fighting, I am provoking him sometimes and he does not have the mental strength to endure it. And why I’m provoking him? I don’t know. Maybe I’m seeking attention from him. Maybe deep down, there is a part of me that wants him to like me, and my curse of constant self sabotage is again keeping me from what I actually want.

Just. His eyes when he’s angry glare with such beautiful fury, I think I couldn’t stop if I wanted.

[calochortus]

Tréguier (Côtes-d'Armor) - Cathédrale Saint-Tugdual - Transept sud - Grande verrière (vitrail de Hubert de Sainte-Marie de Quintin) by Patrick Via Flickr: Tréguier (Côtes-d'Armor) - Cathédrale Saint-Tugdual - Transept sud - Grande verrière (vitrail de Hubert de Sainte-Marie de Quintin) La vigne mystique se mêle aux fondateurs des septs évêchés bretons, aux saints du terroir et aux métiers bretons fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hubert_de_Sainte-Marie fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cath%C3%A9drale_Saint-Tugdual_de_Tr...

[ghoermann]

Cathédrale Saint-Tugdual de Tréguier

[mask131]

Arthurian myth: Morgan the Fey (1)

Loosely translated from the French article "Morgane", written by Philippe Walter, for the Dictionary of Feminine Myths (Le Dictionnaire des Mythes Féminins)

MORGANE

Morgane means in Celtic language “born from the sea” (mori-genos). This character is as such, by her origins, part of the numerous sea-creatures of mythologies. A Britton word of the 9th century, “mormorain”, means “maiden of the sea/ sea-virgin”, et in old texts it is equated with the Latin “siren”. A passage of the life of saint Tugdual of Tréguiers (written in 1060) tells of ow a young man of great beauty named Guengal was taken away under the sea by “women of the sea”. The Celtic beliefs knew many various water-fairies with often deadly embraces – and Morgane was one among the many sirens, mermaids, mary morgand and “morverc’h” (sea girls/daughters of the sea).

Morgane, the fairy of Arthurian tales, is the descendant of the mythical figures of the Mother-Goddesses who, for the Celts, embodied on one side sovereignty, royalty and war, and on the other fecundity and maternity. In the Middle-Ages, they were renamed “fairies” – but through this word it tried to translate a permanent power of metamorphosis and an unbreakable link to the Otherworld, as well as a dreaded ability to influence human fate. The French word “fée” comes from the neutral plural “fata”, itself from the Latin word “fatum”, meaning “fate”.

There is not a figure more ambivalent in Celtic mythology – and especially in the Arthurian legends – than Morgane. She constantly hesitates between the character of a good fairy who offers helpful gifts to those she protects ; and a terrible, bloodthirsty goddess out for revenge, only sowing death and destruction everywhere she goes. Christianity played a key role in the demonization of this figure embodying an inescapable fate, thus contradicting the Christian view of mankind’s free will.

I/ The sovereign goddess of war

It is in the ancient mythological Irish texts that the goddess later known as Morgane appears. The adventures of the warrior Cuchulainn (the “Irish Achilles”) with the war-goddess Morrigan are a major theme of the epic cycle of Ireland. The Morrigan (a name which probably means “great queen”) is also called “Bodb Catha” (the rook of battles). It is under the shape of a rook (among many other metamorphosis) that she appears to Cuchulainn to pronounce the magical words that will cause the hero’s death.

The Irish goddesses of war were in reality three sisters: Bodb, Macha and Morrigan, but it is very likely that these three names all designated the same divinity, a triple goddess rather than three distinct characters. This maleficent goddess was known to cause an epileptic fury among the warriors she wanted to cause the death of. The name of Bodb, which ended up meaning “rook”, originally had the sense of “fury” and “violence”, and it designated a goddess represented by a rook. The Irish texts explain that her sisters, Macha and Morrigan, were also known to cause the doom of entire armies by taking the shape of birds. Every great battle and every great massacre were preceded by their sinister cries, which usually announced the death of a prominent figure.

The Celtic goddesses of war have as such a function similar to the one of the Norse Walkyries, who flew over the battlefield in the shape of swans, or the Greek Keres. The deadly nature of these goddesses resides in the fact that they doom some warriors to madness with their terrifying screams. One of the effects of this goddess-caused madness was a “mad lunacy”, the “geltacht”, which affected as much the body as the mind. During a battle in 1722 it was said that the goddess appeared above king Ferhal in the shape of a sharp-beaked, red-mouth bird, and as she croaked nine men fell prey to madness. The poem of “Cath Finntragha” also tells of the defeat of a king suffering from this illness. The place of his curse later became a place of pilgrimage for all the lunatics in hope of healing.

The link between the war-goddess and the “lunacy-madness” are found back within folklore, in which fairies, in the shape of birds, regularly attack children and inflict them nervous illnesses. These fairies could also appear as “sickness-demons”. Their appearance was sometimes tied to key dates within the Celtic calendar, such as Halloween, which corresponded to the Irish and pre-Christian celebration of Samain. Folktales also keep this particularly by placing the ritualistic appearances of witches and of fate-fairies during the Twelve Days, between Christmas and the Epiphany – another period similar to the Celtic Halloween. Morgane seems to belong to this category of “seasonal visitors”.

II) The Queen of Avalon

In Arthurian literature, Morgane rules over the island of Avalon, a name which means the Island of Apples (the apple is called “aval” in Briton, “afal” in Welsh and “Apfel” in German). Just like the golden apples of the Garden of the Hesperids, in Celtic beliefs this fruit symbolizes immortality and belongs to the Otherworld, a land of eternal youth. It is also associated with revelations, magic and science – all the attributes that Morgane has. Her kingdom of Avalon is one of the possible localizations of the Celtic paradise – it is the place that the Irish called “sid”, the “sedos” (seat) of the gods, their dwelling, but at the same time a place of peace beyond the sea. Avalon is also called the Fortunate Isle (L’Île Fortunée) because of the miraculous prosperity of its soil where everything grows at an abnormal rate. As such, agriculture does not exist there since nature produces by itself everything, without the intervention of mankind.

It is within this island that the fairy leads those she protects, especially her half-brother Arthur after the twilight of the Arthurian world. Morgane acts as such as the mediator between the world of the living and the fabulous Celtic Otherworld. Like all the fairies, she never stops going back and forth between the two worlds. Morgane is the ideal ferrywoman. The same way the Morrigan fed on corpses or the Valkyries favored warriors dead in battle, Morgane also welcomes the soul of the dead that she keeps by her side for all of eternity. Some texts gave her a home called “Montgibel”, which is confused with the Italian Etna. The Otherworld over which she rules doesn’t seem, as such, to be fully maritime.

The ”Life of Merlin” of the Welsh clerk Geoffroy of Monmouth teaches us that Morgan has eight sisters: Moronoe, Mazoe, Gliten, Glitonea, Gliton, Thiten, Tytonoe, and Thiton. Nine sisters in total which can be divided in three groups of three, connected by one shared first letter (M, G, T). In Adam de la Halle’s “Jeu de la feuillée”, she appears with two female companions (Arsile and Maglore), forming a female trinity. As such, she rebuilds the primitive triad of the sovereign-goddesses, these mother-goddesses that the inscriptions of Antiquity called the “Matres” or “Matronae”. In this triad, Morgane is the most prominent member. She is the effective ruler of Avalon, since it was said that she taught the art of divination to her sisters, an art she herself learned from Merlin of which she was the pupil. She knows the secret of medicinal herbs, and the art of healing, she knows how to shape-shift and how to fly in the air. Her healing abilities give her in some Arthurian works a benevolent function, for example within the various romans of Chrétien de Troyes. She usually appears right on time to heal a wounded knight: she is the one that gave a balm to Yvain, the Knight of the Lion, to heal his madness. In these works, Morgane does not embody a force of destruction, but on the contrary she protects the happy endings and good fortunes of the Round Table. She is the providential fée that saves the souls born in high society and raised in the “courtois” worship of the lady. However, her powers of healing can reverse into a nefarious power when the fée has her ego wounded.

III/ The fatal temptress

In the prose Arthurian romans of the 13th century, Morgane can be summarized by one place. After being neglected by her lover Guyomar, she creates “le Val sans retour”, the Vale of No-Return, a place which will define her as a “femme fatale”. This place transports without the “littérature courtoise” the idea of the Celtic Otherworld. Also called “Le Val des faux amants” (The Vale of False Lovers), “le Val sans retour” is a cursed place where the fée traps all those that were unfaithful to her, by using various illusions and spells. As such, she manifests both her insatiable cruelty and her extreme jealousy. Lancelot will become the prime victim of Morgane because, due to his love for Queen Guinevere, he will refuse her seduction. The feelings of Morgane towards Lancelot rely on the ambivalence of love and hate: since she cannot obtain the love of the knight by natural means, she will use all of her enchantments and magical brews to submit Lancelot’s will. In vain. Lancelot will escape from the influence of this wicked witch. In “La Mort le roi Artu”, still for revenge, Morgan will participate in her own way to the decline to the Arthurian world: she will reveal to her brother, king Arthur, the adulterous love of Guinevre and Lancelot. She will bring to him the irrefutable proof of this affair by showing her what Lancelot painted when he had been imprisoned by her. The terrible war that marks the end of the Arthurian world will be concluded by the battle between Arthur and Mordred, the incestuous son of Arthur and Morgan. As such, Morgan appears as the instigator of the disaster that will ruin the Arthurian world. She manipulates the various actors of the tragedy and pushes them towards a deadly end. It should be noted that any sexual or romantic relationship between Arthur and Morgane are absent from the French romans – they are especially present within the British compilation of Malory, La Mort d’Arthur.

Behind the possessive woman described by the Arthurian texts, hides a more complex figure, a leftover of the ancient Celtic goddess of destinies. Cruel and manipulative, Morgan is fuses with the fear-inducing figure of the witch. Despite being an enemy of men, she keeps seeking their love. All of her personal tragedy comes from the fact that she fails to be loved. Always heart-sick, she takes revenge for her romantic failure with an incredible savagery. Her brutality manifest itself through the ugliness that some text will end up giving her – the ultimate rejection by this Christian world of this “devilish and lustful temptress”. “La Suite du Roman de Merlin” will try to give its own explanation for this transformation of Morgane, from good to wicked fairy: “She was a beautiful maiden until the time she learned charms and enchantments ; but because the devil took part in these charms and because she was tormented by both lust and the devil, she completely lost her beauty and became so ugly that no one accepted to ever call her beautiful, unless they had been bewitched”. In this new roman, she is responsible for a series of murders and suicides – and as the rival of Guinevere, she tries to cause King Arthur’s doom by favorizing her own lover, Accalon. Another fée, Viviane, will oppose herself to her schemes.

The demonization of the goddess is however not complete. Morgan appears in several “chansons de gestes” of the beginning of the 13th century, and even within the Orlando Furioso of the Arisote, in the sixth canto, in which she is the sister of the sorceress Alcina. She is presented as the disciple of Merlin. Seer and wizardess, she owns (within Avalon or the land of Faerie) a land of pleasure, a little paradise in which mankind can escape its condition. At the same time the Arthurian texts discredit her, she joins a strange historico-pagan syncretism, by being presented as the wife of Julius Caesar, and as the mother of Aubéron, the little king of Féerie.

After the Middle-Ages, the fée Morgane only mostly appears within the Breton folklore (the French-Britton folklore, of the French region of Bretagne). There, old mythical themes which inspired medieval literature are maintained alive, and keep existing well after the Middles-Ages. Morgane is given several lairs, on earth or under the sea. In the Côtes-d’Armor, there is a Terte de la fée Morgan, while a hill near Ploujean is called “Tertre Morgan”. There is an entire branch of popular literature in Bretagne (such as Charles Le Bras’ 1850 “Morgân”) where the fée represents the last survivor of a legendary land and the reminder of a forgotten past. She expresses the nostalgia of a lost dream, of a fallen Golden Age. True Romantic allegory of the lands and seas of Bretagne, she most notably embodies the feeling of a Bretagne land that was in search of its own soul.

However, it is her role of “cursed lover” that stays the most dominant within the Breton folklore. The vicomte de La Villemarqué, great collector of folktales and popular legends, noted in his “Barzaz Breiz” (1839) that the “morgan”, a type of water spirits, took at the bottom of the sea or of ponds, in palaces of gold and crystal, young people that played too close to their “haunted waters”. The goal of these fairies was to kidnap them to regenerate their cursed species. This ties the link between these “morganes” (also called “mary morgand”) and the Antique “fairy of fate”. Similar names, a same love of water, and the presence of the “land below the waves”, of a malevolent seduction – these are the permanent traits of Morgane, who keeps confusing and uniting the romantic instinct for love, and the desire for death. More modern adaptations of the legend (such as Marion Zimmer Bradley’s novels) weave an entire feminist fantasy around the figure of this fairy, supposed to embody the Celtic matriarchy.

[alexar60]

Marécage

Des marais à perte de vue !

Moins connu que Gauvain, Tugdual venait aussi du pays de Galles. Il avait traversé les mers pour trouver ce que les chevaliers de la table ronde cherchent depuis toujours, le Saint Graal. Dans le nord, il avait combattu des hommes des glaces. A l’ouest, il s’est opposé au terrible serpent de mer, A l’est, c’était la fameuse horde sauvage qu’il défia pour sauver un petit village sans richesse. Quant au sud, il affronta le géant des sables. Mais de tous ses défis, il ne pensait pas que celui-ci serait le plus compliqué.

Des marais à perte de vue !

Voilà comment les paysans de la région décrivirent l’endroit. La piste donnée par un marchant local obligeait de s’enfoncer dans les terres de Nimué. Mais, à l’approche, il comprit qu’il ne serait pas facile d’entrer dans ces terres. C’était une immense étendue d’eau et de bois où personne n’allait par peur des superstitions. On disait qu’il était hanté, qu’un monstre habitait la zone et dévorait tout être vivant pénétrant dans le marécage. D’ailleurs, Tugdual n’entendit aucun chant d’oiseau, preuve que même ceux qui sont censés être à l’abri, ne se sentent pas protégés.

Le chevalier suivit son instinct. « Si le Graal est au centre de cet enfer », j’irai le chercher, pensa-t-il. Personne ne voulut l’aider. Ainsi, il acheta une barque et s’enfonça sous le regard médusé et désolé des villageois. Au début, tout se passait bien. Mais après avoir traversé le lac, ou plutôt la grande étendue d’eau, sa barque pénétra le sanctuaire interdit.

Puis, il fut confronté à différents problèmes. La chaleur étouffante du jour laissait sa place à au froid glacial de la nuit. L’humidité fut si importante et l’air si vicié qu’il vit, de ses propres yeux, son épée commencer à rouiller. Son bateau n’avançait que rarement dans l’eau croupie, l’obligeant à ramer et à se jeter dans le marais pour couper les racines des arbres ou des plantes qui, l’empêchaient de continuer sa route. Et le brouillard toujours présent, devenait de plus en plus dense quand il s’enfonçait dans ce marais infect. Dès lors, il réalisait que sa quête devenait absurde.

Des marais à perte de vue !

Après quelques jours, Tugdual pensait avoir fait le plus dur. Mais quelque-chose ne lui convenait pas. En effet, plus il avançait, plus il avait la sensation de déjà-vu. « Cet arbre, je l’ai aperçu. Et cette broussaille qui ressemble à un cheval, je le reconnais.» se disait le chevalier. De même, les arbres ressemblaient énormément à des formes humaines. Il crut même qu’ils gesticulaient des bras en voyant le vent bouger les branches.

Des marais à perte de vue !

Il avait fini ses provisions. Dès lors, il se mit à pêcher et récupérer quelques poissons. Tous avaient une terrible odeur de vase. Il vomit, sentant la maladie l’envahir. Et les moustiques qui s’amusaient à sucer son sang. Sa tête était chaude, il regrettait cette quête.

Des marais à perte de vue !

Dans son rêve, Tugdual vit une jeune femme aux cheveux d’or et à la peau blanche. Elle sortait de l’eau et l’invitait à le rejoindre. Il tendit le bras pour attraper sa main et se laissa glisser hors du bateau. Lorsqu’il se réveilla en avalant une gorgée d’eau putride, il se rendit compte qu’il était au milieu de rien. Sa barque avançait lentement. Lui qui ne savait pas nager, dut faire un effort surhumain pour la rejoindre, Enfin sur les planches, il souffla et s’endormit de nouveau. Le brouillard se faisait de plus en plus épais.

Il regrettait l’absence de son écuyer ou d’un compagnon. Son homme de main tomba malade quelques jours avant d’arriver dans ce village maudit. Il aurait pu attendre qu’il se rétablisse mais son esprit contenait trop d’impatience. Alors, il laissa son fidèle serviteur pensant le revoir dans quelques jours au plus. Et les autres chevaliers suivaient une autre piste à l’autre bout du pays ou en Calédonie. Dieu qu’il se sentait seul dans ce monde perdu. Même les oiseaux ne chantaient pas pour lui.

Soudain un craquement puis un cri. C’était le hurlement d’un animal. Devant son embarcation, l’eau se mit à bouillir. Il serra son épée à moitié tachée de rouille et observa cette eau remuer dans tous les sens. Le bateau continua d’avancer avec une lenteur insupportable. Il se mit à prier n’importe quel dieu. Malgré son baptême, il demeurait encore païen et louait toujours quelques dieux celtes. La rivière se calma brusquement. Tugdual observa les semblants de rives touffues et inaccessibles. Il jeta un œil sur un morceau de bois flottant. C’était les restes d’un cor de cerf. La tête arrachée regardait Tugdual en tirant la langue. L’intrépide semblait lire dans ce regard vide un danger.

Des marais à perte de vue !

A peine remis de cette vision d’horreur, le chevalier sentit quelque-chose frapper son épaule. C’était un tentacule. L’homme se releva immédiatement l’épée à la main. Face à lui, un monstre se dressait, des yeux globuleux le dévisageaient. Un second tentacule sortit de l’eau puis un troisième. Dès lors, le poulpe s’amusa avec la barque en la bousculant. Tugdual tomba, mais réussit à se maintenir dedans. Le monstre jouait, le bateau, collé aux  bras de la pieuvre, ne touchait plus l’eau. Un tentacule enroula la barque avant de l’écraser comme un vulgaire insecte. Le jeune héros plongea, malgré lui, dans une eau noire et dangereuse.

Il se débattait aussi bien pour ne pas se noyer que pour se défendre du poulpe. Son poignard frappait l’eau sans toucher le monstre. Il frappait et essayait en même temps de rejoindre la rive. Enfin il arriva à avoir pieds et put courir jusqu’au bord. Il regarda l’étendue d’eau. Tout était calme. La pieuvre avait disparu. Jamais il n’aurait pensé rencontrer un pareil animal en cet endroit.

Des marais à perte de vue !

Tugdual avait tout perdu. Il ne lui restait qu’un couteau accroché à sa ceinture. Il avançait à travers les ronces et les feuillages denses. Le brouillard n’aidait pas. Il essaya de chercher de la nourriture. Mais c’était le rôle de son écuyer que de chasser les petits animaux. Lui était habitué aux sangliers, aux cerfs et autres gibiers de grande envergure. Il marchait cherchant à longer la rivière.

Des marais à perte de vue !

La traversé devint encore plus longue et périlleuse. Il risqua de s’effondrer d’épuisement dans la boue et les flaques. Ses vêtements se déchirèrent au contact des ronces et autre plantes à aiguilles. Il sentait la verdure blesser sa chair. Il avait mal. Mais il ne voulait pas mourir en cet endroit. Savoir que son corps finirait ici, imaginer ses ossements pourrir dans ce marécage, le révulsait. Alors, il trouva la force de continuer.

Des marais à perte de vue !

A cause de la soif, de la faim et de la fatigue, son imagination joua des tours. Il entendit une étrange mélodie. C’était un chant doux, une voix féminine harmonieuse. Il s’arrêta, chercha à regarder le ciel à travers la brume. Celle-ci parut moins épaisse. Et si ce n’était pas un mirage ? S’il entendait bien une femme chanter ? Aussitôt il s’engouffra au milieu des buissons en direction de ce chant. Il trébucha sur les racines, s’arracha la peau des bras et des jambes. Il faillit se crever un œil avec une branche tendue. Enfin, le brouillard avait disparu ainsi que la forêt et les marécages.

Tugdual avait réussi. Un château de pierre se dressait devant lui. Il marcha difficilement, ses jambes tremblantes avaient de plus en plus de mal à avancer. Il s’agenouilla, se mit à ramper vers ce château fantastique. Puis il s’endormit. Pendant ce temps, une jeune femme chantait à côté d’une fenêtre. A ses côté, un homme sourire aux lèvres, tenait une coupe de vin. Ses habits étaient des plus éclatants. Il était envouté par la beauté de la chanteuse… A moins que ce soit par sa magie, parce qu’il ressemblait trait pour trait à Tugdual.

Alex@r60 – août 2023

[ikimono-clips]

Tréguier (Côtes-d'Armor) - Cathédrale Saint-Tugdual - Vitraux (de Hubert de Sainte-Marie de Quintin) by Patrick

[jfsabyblogs]

En avance sur son temps ?

BLOG KELOU. Ven 22.05.2015, 19:23. MISE À JOUR. http://jfsaby.com/blogs/index.php/kelou/vW6 Article modifié. 1 PHOTO. En visitant la salle du « Trésor » de la cathédrale Saint Tugdual de Tréguier, je suis resté pantois devant la statue de Saint Jean l'Evangéliste. Je n'avais jamais entendu dire qu'il était le saint patron des auto-stoppeurs…

[rsayoub]

Celebrating Milestones and Mastering Game Localization: A Fireside Chat with Tugdual Delisle

In the world of podcasts where voices blend and stories unfold, the Localization Fireside Chat has carved out a niche that resonates deeply with those intrigued by the art and science of localization. As we celebrate the release of our 52nd episode, it’s not just another number; it’s a testament to the journey, the conversations, and the myriad insights shared by leaders across the globe. This…

[yespat49]

Après Patrick Cohen, ce sont les “journalistes” du Parisien qui cherchent à relativiser le meurtre raciste de Thomas

Le Parisien publie ce jour un long article consacré à la tragédie de Crépol, censé relativiser la position des victimes, et le rôle des agresseurs. A bien des égards, cet article est plus idéologique que ceux qu’il prétend dénoncer. Tugdual Denis, de Valeurs actuelles, explique pourquoi : Commençons par le début, le chapeau “Les investigations des gendarmes (…) apportent de premières réponses sur…

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS NOVEMBER 30

St. Andrew Roman Catholic- Patron of fishermen-The first one to be called by Jesus. He immediately left his nets and followed Him. Nov. 30 Vatican News https://www.vaticannews.va/en/saints/11/30/st--andrew--apostle.html

St. Joseph Marchand, Roman Catholic Priest and Martyr of Vietnam. He was arrested in Saigon and condemned by authorities; he was martyred with red-hot tongs. Nov. 30

St. Tudwal, 564 A.D. Welsh monk and bishop, called Pabu (Father) among the Bretons and sometimes listed as Tugdual. Originally a monk in Wales, he journeyed to Brittany, France, with his mother, sisters, and other relatives. The Celtic language of Brittany was easily understood by Welsh speakers. Tudwal’s cousin, Deroc, was a king of Dumnonia and he worked to promote the faith in his cousin’s domain, founding Lan Paku at Leon, Spain. He eventually became bishop of Treher (Treguier) with King Childebert I (r. 511 -558) as his patron. He is remembered in Wales in several sites in the Leyn Peninsula.

[tugdual-ama]

Why do you enjoy role "cruel"?

I wouldn’t say I’m „cruel“, per se. I would say, the world is cruel and I’m oftentimes just mirroring it, which some people will then certainly take as me being cruel. But at the same time, I do take a certain joy in in this process of showing the world it’s own cruelty. So where does this joy come from? I personally think it’s a part of who I am, and I can never possibly escape it.

[dybdahlsvisitportugalspainfrance]

Brittany/Bretagne/Briezh - partie trois

It is October 7 and we have been home 5 full days. I am back on Michigan time but due to my new "job" (watching Freya on Tuesdays and Fridays) there has been little time to sit and write. It doesn't mean I haven't been having a blast explaining about PSI and gravity and how a pump works. I have such a receptive student...

Mark has also had different duties - and the cornbread taste test went very well.

But back to our trip...

September 27, 2023

Gabby and Danielle left to return to their home about an hour away after breakfast this morning. Sometime during our often broken conversations in Franglish, we discovered that Gabby and Danielle are sailors and have a Beneteau 48 ft sailboat. That gave Gabby and Mark plenty to try to talk about. (Gabby's English is so much better than Mark's French - but they did communicate without too much trouble. Gabby and Danielle are a delightful couple and we look forward to seeing them next year in California.

The day was overcast and threatening rain - but full speed ahead. Francoise suggested we take a road trip to see Côte de Granite Rose (The Pink Granite Coast) about an hour away. She had other things to show us on the route too. So off we went.

Carl was driving, Mark was in the front seat and Annie, Francoise and I were in the back seat - BUT the only person who knew where we were going was the only non-native English speaker. One would like that everyone would just listen carefully to Francoise - but NOPE! Everyone - including the car GPS - had a plan. But Francoise pushed forward and got us to everywhere she had planned. (Damned pushy, pig-headed Americans!!).

And what a treat for us! We stopped for some lovely views along the way and then we arrived. The coast is indeed Pink Granite! Francoise was disappointed that it was overcast because the sunshine makes the place much pinker to the eye - but we loved it clouds and all.

I could not help but see the resemblance to the Canadian North Channel where Mark and I spent 15 magnificent summers on our sailboat.

Below are a couple of pics from the North Channel...

It is as if these locations so far away shared the same planet - or something. Beauty abounds.

The weather threatened rain - but it held off until we were having a lovely lunch by the harbor. After a lovely lunch Francoise had another trick up her sleeve - a trip to a sleepy village named Tréguier established during the 6th century and somehow escaped destruction during WWII. It was delightful.

But then, we turned the corner and saw this:

WHAT!?!? A massive cathedral in this tiny town!?!?!?

The history of this still active Catholic Cathedral - this not really a cathedral - is fascinating. A "Cathedral" is the church of a bishop and this place hasn't had a bishop since 1802, however the church is still referred to as Tréguier Cathedral or Saint Yves' Cathedral.

I'm lifting this right off the WWW. "It was in the 6th century that Anglo-Saxon invasions caused Saint Tugdual to leave Wales and settle in Brittany. Tugdual had been a pupil at the monastery of Llanwit Major founded by Saint Iltud, but now, with his mother and several fellow monks, he braved the seas and settled in Brittany at a point where the rivers Guidy, Jaudy and their estuary joined and eventually and in around 532, founded a monastery there which he called "Landreguer" ("the monastery of three rivers") and around this monastery and the village of Minihy grew what was to eventually be the town of Tréguier."

From that monastery grew a church - made of wood. After Tugdual was made a saint and was buried there and a few hundred later it was decided that this place needed something a LOT better than a wooden church -- so in 970 a new cathedral was built in the Romanesque style. Only a little bit of it remains - look at the tower in the center of the picture below. If the windows have a round top - Romanesque. If the windows are arched - Gothic. Cool huh?

In 1339 - the construction of the Gothic cathedral began to replace the completely old fashioned and way too small Romanesque building. Why had it become too small? St. Yves. In 1252, the soon to be Saint Yves, a native son of Brittany was born. He proved to be a brilliant student, a pious, kind and generous man and from the website Catholic Saints: "During a famine God almighty came to the assistance of his generosity by visible miracles. A flour bin which a domestic had found empty was found filled when Yves himself went with the domestic to examine it. Once he fed two hundred hungry persons with seven loaves of bread; at another time he fed twenty-four persons with a small loaf." TA-DA!!! Upon his death in 1303 he was buried next to Saint Tugdual. And at that point this church became a pilgrimage destination.

Anyway, what we see today is what happened from 1339 to the 1700s as the cathedral grew. It is quite impressive inside and out.

I loved the cloisters.

We walked around this quaint little village and then headed back to Loguivy de la Mer.

There were naps and downtime and then our darling hostess, Francois took her position back in the kitchen meeting all our needs before we even knew we had them. What a sweetheart! Nos chérie!

Carl has developed a cough and feels a bit rundown, so tomorrow he will rest while the we go to Île de Bréhat for the day. Our time here is quickly drawing to a close and I will truly be sad to leave. This part of the world is just extraordinary and let me say again - we have been treated like royalty by our wonderful hosts.

We finished the night with a card game with Francoise by my side learning. Tomorrow night she will sub in. Fun in Brittany/Bretagne/Breizh!!

Stay tuned.

[ghoermann]

Cathédrale Saint-Tugdual de Tréguier