Úrimë

...means "August" in Quenya.

I do not feel any whisper of the autumn yet, in the air, but I feel the summer's lateness. It is always like this, one week ago was full summer, now, it is late. I breathe easily here, and earlier, up on my hill, with a wind that was a bit stronger than usual for summer, but still soft and caressing against my skin, and not cold.
The only thing a bit defective is that fox is not here - he's moved to a nice house on the mainland because of work. We're not giving the apartment up (thank the gods) but we are, once again, not going to be living together in the way of "Hello, precious, I'm home!"
Which we haven't done very much anyways, despite the five years. Or four. Five. I think it's five. But I did take quite a fancy to it during Medieval Week, despite there being others in the house as well. And yesterday, when I'd come home with the ferry and we stayed awake, just to be able to spend time together before he left this very morning, it felt... so very right. I don't condone the fething leaving of stuff EVERYWHERE but where it's supposed to be, the mess here and there, and so on... but that is so mcuh beside the point. Living together, even for those short hours, was a very good and refreshing reminder of how come we stay together still. It was cosy, it was peaceful and it was enjoyable.
Pity we didn't have more time. Then we could have painted stuff together, discussed lrps, sewn stuff, and so on. But no, I had to help him get to the ferry. Le sigh.

Instead, I devoted today to not walking. The foot is not getting better. The old thing that showed up one winter's night gets steadily worse now, as does the heel. It's been there, on and off, during summer, and then on Monday, Medieval Week, it hit me hard and bad and caused me to jump on crutches for several days.

I had to get out to get breakfast stuff for tomorrow... and some cheese doodles... and some dinner foodstuffs... but otherwise nothing that involved social interaction. I took the way by the forest, that forest which seems to connect to every other forest in the world, and then up on my hill, greeting the four directions, the winds, the earth, the fire, the water and greeting my island and life itself. It was very pleasant lying down and enjoying the sun, the wind, the earth and the smell of the ocean.


Medieval Week, then, in short? Wonderful, as always. This year, however, I actually felt a bit weary the last day or two days. It wasn't as emotionally draining, perhaps, as some years have been, nor was there as much drama. Some drama, of course, but nothing bad. I danced my foot and one row of beads to pieces on Monday night, Koenix (who used to be Koenigs Halunken) have grown and become quite an energetic and nice band. Always good to see such things. I retrieved some of my beads, but waking up on Tuesday was excruciating. Me and Iwhy had to walk home, you see, after dancing... and that wasnae good at all.
A lot of time was spent at Bistra Haren some nights, none at all on Effes this year (I don't lament that much, the volume is always too loud and it's too crowded AND costs too much to get in). I didn't buy much at all, I had no inspiration either! Very odd. But two very, very pretty hairpins, made of ox bone and shaped into gripping beast's heads. Some beads, a piece of red wool for hoses. A ring, for Isilmëarë, since the other one was a borrowed one.
The market felt... smaller, this year. But I did try to get out early every day, and meet lots of people! We had nice people living here, Iwhy, Egladil and Highelf. The trolls lived in foxling's mother's apartment instead. Just as well, we could NEVER have fitted everyone in without tension, and besides it meant excellent space for a Drakar och Demoner-campaign which I did not partake in, but that was played almost every night, I believe.
I crossdressed for the first time ever, more seriously at least, during Wednesday. It's the inofficial crossdressing day. There were several manly men and womanly women that I noticed. Odd thing, or maybe not so much, I looked damn good. Fireshow was nice, despite not seeing too much of it. Bah, amateurs choosing where to sit... I had good company though.
On Thursday I donned Au∂vi∂r's clothes and carried her harp. I like the clothes, I admit, that she wears. They're comfortable. Lrping picknick was quite small as far as I could see, but lots of nice people were there. At four pm, I held a performance telling the Guta Saga, thanks to Ihalempi/the Captain. It was my first official performance like that, ever. Oh, I've done some reciting Faust, I used to play the saxophone in an orchestra and stuff like that, but there was something special there. Afterwards, I plucked the harp while the Captain told his tale. That afternoon-evening, me and Egladil improvised a bit longer than what we could during "Tuonelas port", and ended up in the high tower where there's now a gangway and three storeys, giving an idea of how the tower in the city wall was used. We ended up there, and our characters ended up in Tingsvide - of course Au∂vi∂r couldn't resist suggesting Volund follow her (or the other way round) around the world, going whence he liked as an errant blacksmith. Ah, spontaneous lrping. Awesomeness.
Friday once again saw me in non-historical clothing! I wore Kerael's outfit, to great effect. Not only do I find myself beautiful, there was very obvious evidence that others, too, did - mundies and us Others alike.This is a photo taken by Iwhy that evening, down by the shore, just outside the city wall. I danced a bit that evening, dulling the pain with painkillers.
I got to have Highelf as a handsome man accompanying me at times, at others I had Egladil, and dashing they both were. I did miss having Zaramis there, though I know Iwhy was happy he wasnae there. There were also others not there, Rob and family most noticeably, but then, the silversmith Tavathlon was there, and others, so it added up fairly well anyway.
On Sunday, one visited Clematis for the probably last time ever. It's closing. We were there for... hours, and hours. Ate, drank, ate some more and just took in the atmosphere. Who cared about rules, when it was closing? The place was jampacked with people, there was spontaneous music and performances, until at last I could not stay any longer - I was so tired, so sleepy. I hated to have to go, but I really had to. On the way to get picked up, leaving that fold in time, that other world, that other reality that is Medieval Week, I ran into my lady for the week, Isobelll, whom on Monday took me up on my offer of "Want to make out?" and whom I then met on and off during the week. She's pretty sweet, we keep in touch still, and with no expectations from any of us.
And yes, I was as annoyed with Iwhy this week, as last, and the one before. Just not as often, and more the last nights, than the first few. I could say a lot about it, but I will not. There is no creative dialogue to be had.

One more highlight: Middle of the night, on Thursday, me, Iwhy and Egladil drove out to a limestone quarry. Full moon, stars, not a cloud but a few wisps here or there. And I had the best swim of this year. The water was high and completely calm, and it felt kind of like sacrilege to wear a swimming suit... so I swam some distance from the others, and pulled it off me. Swimming naked in that water, in the light of the full moon... Yes, there is magic, especially during that week, and that very night, perhaps most of all.

"Sju dar per år" by Loke ("Seven days a year"). Yay for YouTube quality. (Better one here, shot at an official consert). Still. This is THE anthem for the Medieval Week. As can be understood by the thousands of people singing along... yeah, we appreciate it. I'm someone in the front of that camera. I might translate this some day. For now, it sums up everything about Medieval Week. "For eight days a year, eight days a year, eight days a year I can have peace of mind. In the Baltic Sea, on the Island of Roses, eight days a year in Visby's medieval times!" Such a poor translation... but the Swedes should have no troubles.

För vi lever i besynnerliga tider
allt handlar mer om prestation än om person,
du krävs på läkarintyg ifall du lider
och det krävs kompetens för kommunikation.
Med magmedicin och livsstilsmagasin
snickrar vi på våra luftpalats.
Och fast var människa har bil
så är ens Facebookprofil
ens mest frekvent besökta mötesplats.

Men i sju dar per år, sju dar per år,
sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid
I Österns sjö, på rosornas ö
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!

Här kan nästan alla skratta åt sig själva,
det är ett jättebarnkalas, en maskerad
någon är en riddare, någon annan är en älva,
till och med den pestsmittade tiggaren är glad.

Här är det natt och nakenbad,
här kan man sjunga serenad, utan att någon kommer kalla dig pretentiös,
romantiken får en chans, här är eldshow, här är dans,
här är självaste djävulen lös!

När du fått på dig dina medeltida kläder
då finns inget varifrån och varför eller vem
vi kanske kommer ifrån Sveriges alla städer
men vi har ändå allihopa hittat hem.

Och all framgångshyckleri byts mot glatt gyckleri
här vävs natten ihop med nästa dag
här är hjärta och passion, är inkarnerad illusion
och det bästa med det hela - här är jag.

I sju dar per år, sju dar per år!
Sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid.
I Österns sjö, på Rosornas Ö,
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!

Och här bland murgrönornas grönska
är det festival och frid på samma gång
det enda mera man kan önska är att veckan vore tre gånger så lång...

Så vi vill tacka alla generösa gutar,
ni låter oss invadera eran ö totalt
och vi vet ju alla hur det slutar
så ni gör rätt i att ta jävligt bra betalt!

Till denna veckan vill jag alltid återvända,
jag struntar i de andra femtien!
Och skulle fastlandet gå under - låt det hända
då kan ju Medeltidsveckan börja om igen!

I sju dar per år, sju dar per år!
Sju dar per år kan jag få ro och frid.
I Österns sjö, på Rosornas Ö,
sju dar per år i Visbys medeltid!