[Akdor 1154]

All this hypo stuff is probably just placebo - even caffiene doesn't make you go hypo, it just keeps you awake/alert.

I'm very picky. :p

[Mrs. Cadvan]

Me too. This is the Cadvan thread! ;)

*points to the Chattery thread in a very commanding manner*

[Siobhan]

Hi again Mrs C long time no see

[alison]

Thanks, Mrs Cadvan - you're doing a good job there! :D

I've been busy this week (I finished my radio play, phew), as well as sneezing with yet another cold. The main problem with having children is that they bring everything home and share it, including whatever lurgy is going around. I know I promised some Cadvan stories, and I haven't forgotten: I just haven't had a chance to do any research. But be patient, and I will get there...

[alison]

Well, I started writing something, but it's turning into a story and is a bit longer than I was planning.

Hopefully I'll find out what happens soon... :p

[Mrs. Cadvan]

Hi again Mrs C long time no see

Yes, I've come out of my dark lair for the sole purpose of telling people off. :D Rather like the stereotypical librarian who lurks behind her dusty books, waiting for the perfect moment in which to pounce upon an unsuspecting little child. :rolleyes:

[Anna]

i cant believe there r so many cadvan lovers i thought i was all alone! :D
wht is it with these books u can never seem 2 put them down + if u aren't readin them u r thinkin of sum aspect of them.
;) :D usually a certain male character.

[alison]

Now I'm imagining Mrs Cadvan with long black boots and a whip!

Busy day today, but I'm hoping to finish my little Cadvan tale and post it up here this afternoon. It's fun (what my husband calls "playing football") - writers are very bad at doing things that they're not really supposed to.

[Gemini]

i cant believe there r so many cadvan lovers i thought i was all alone!
lol, there are quite a few of us, before the thread started i think we had most of our Cadvan rants over in "The Books" thread :D.

And it's quite obvious we're all Maerad/ Cadvan shippers. That's one thing i noticed this morning, pretty much every single book with a female protag, will usualy have them find a love interest by the end. This is getting on my nerves now, esp since it just happened in the book i'm reading. It took the guy about half a page to go from being hell bent on killing her for revenge to being absolutely besotted with her... it's ridiculous :rolleyes:.

Oh that's right... Cadvan's thread... yeah Cadvan is great. We all love Cadvan :D. YAY! A Cadvan story this afternoon! Now, how to pass the tedious hours?

[alison]

Apologies - I couldn't finish the story. So I thought I'd post the bit I've done. I'll translate the rest some time this week ;)

This extract from Lives of the Bards by Fornarii of Lirigon.

Cadvan lived with his father and four siblings in a small Lirhan village, not far from Lirigon. But he did not go to the Lirigon School until much later than most children with the Gift.

He was an attractive child, clever and quick with his hands; and he knew he was different from his brothers and sisters. He came into the Speech early, when he was about five, shortly before he lost his mother. His father, Nartan, never quite recovered from the death of his wife, and was frightened of his son's precocity. He was often harsh with the boy, and ordered Cadvan not to tell anyone about his abilities, but it was impossible for him to hide them completely, and soon the whole village knew that he had the Speech.

When Cadvan was nine years old, the Lirigon Bards, as was the custom, came to Nartan's house to speak about the boy attending the School of Lirigon. Being a Bard was considered an honour in Lirigon; it was not one of those places where those with the Speech were shunned. But even so, Nartan was surly with the Bards, and would not hear of Cadvan attending the School. Perhaps he was reluctant to lose another member of the family, or perhaps he needed the hands of his eldest son to help with the four younger children and his cobbling. The Bards earnestly argued that to leave a boy with the Gift untrained was asking for trouble, but Nartan turned a deaf ear. The Bards said they would come the following spring, and ask again, but Nartan turned his face away and would not speak another word, so they sighed and left.

Cadvan had not been allowed in the room when the Bards had been talking, but he knew they were talking about him, and he eavesdropped easily enough, using his listening; what he had heard excited him, and he decided that he wanted to be a Bard more than anything else. His father cuffed him and told him to get on with his work.

After that, Cadvan conceived a great resentment against his father. He began to run wild, and he led other children on his escapades - nothing very harmful, beyond raiding orchards and throwing stones. Because he had the Gift, he could go hidden and speak to animals, which gave him the edge in their pranks. He was learning how to use his powers, but without the careful training of the Bards, which would have controlled his excesses, his use of them was wilful. His behaviour concerned his aunt, his mother's sister Alina, who perhaps had a little of the Gift herself and was certainly a perceptive woman; and she spoke again to Nartan, telling him ought to send the boy to the School.

Nartan was a stubborn man, and he said he would not agree to his firstborn going away, no matter what. Alina told him he was a fool and was breeding trouble for himself, but he would not listen. The truth was that Nartan burned with love for his son, love that he could not admit even to himself, and so would not let him go. It was often said that Cadvan was very like his dead mother.

One day, when Cadvan was about ten, a stranger came to the village on a black horse. He was tall and severe-looking, and he was dressed in rich clothes. He went straight to the cobbler's house, demanding that a strap on his horse's bridle be fixed at once, as it had broken. Nartan was not home, so Cadvan took the job. Cadvan saw that the stranger's horse was ill-treated; its mouth was bleeding. This angered him, and he spoke to the man without respect.

"If you were more gentle with your hands," he said, "the strap would not be broken."

The stranger told the boy to hold his tongue, and then examined him more closely. What he saw interested him, and he asked his name. Cadvan answered sullenly, not liking to be questioned, and concentrated on mending the broken strap. Finally, the stranger asked him if he had the Speech. Cadvan looked up swiftly, and took a long time to answer. At last he nodded.

"Why are you not at the School?" asked the stranger.

"My father will not let me," said the boy.

The stranger heard the resentment in the boy's voice, and smiled to himself. He picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed it in his hand.

"How might I make this pebble fly, boy?" he said.

Cadvan shrugged. "Throw it," he said.

"Aye. Or give it wings." And as Cadvan watched, the pebble turned into a butterfly and flew away.

Cadvan had heard of Bardic magic, but had never seen it; he felt the more his deprivation of learning. He refused to appear impressed, however, and merely shrugged again.

"It's a trick," he said proudly. "I am too old for silly games."

The stranger laughed. "My name is Likud," he said. "I will be back." Then he mounted his horse and rode away. Cadvan stood in the road and watched him until he was out of sight.

The meeting had disturbed him. He didn't like the man, and he liked even less the way he treated his horse; yet there was a strange fascination about him, too. For the next few weeks he waited for the stranger to return, but he did not; and after a while Cadvan decided that he hadn't meant what he had said. He was curious about the man's abilities, though, and began to experiment, teaching himself the simpler enchantments, glimmerspells and other mageries of illusion.

Time passed, and Cadvan grew into an awkward boy, tall and gangly. Every spring the Bards of Lirigon would ride to speak with his father and every year his father spurned their offers. It seemed to Nartan that if he gave in, it would mean admitting that he was wrong in the first place: and he was a proud and stubborn man, like his son. And every year the boy grew wilder.