Diary,
Today, I was thinking back on my life and I remembered the battle my father had with a beast that followed us around as our clan traveled. It was all very vague in my memory, so I thought I'd write it down, so I can look back on my life as an elderly woman and not forget such detail I may remember now. The Battle of the Beast; My father stood by the beast at first, so did the rest of us, for the beast represented celebration and wondrous times of victory. Father claiming it for himself, the beast was nothing but his friend. The beast something all the men of our clan knew very well, hand in hand we traveled along with our good friend, the beast. The beast was one of my father's best friends, but soon, he felt he wanted it only for himself, no one other would he share with. The other men of the clan wanted to greet and embrace the beast too... But father circled them with a growl and a glare, warning them to stay clear of the beast. Burt, Burt. He warned the men, for if they were to not back away he would rob them of their lives, or better said their pride and ban them from the Elínbjörtr's travels. For he knew, some were not wanted elsewhere. Mother, Ásvör, found herself jealous of the beast, for it stole her sweet Bjarki's time, money and kindhearted spirit. The beast scared my mother as it had strong hands that he struck upon her when she told father what she thought and his fierce words had tinted the mood. When we took the beast from father, elta, elta, he would chase after. Taking the beast back, guiding it to his feasts again. The beast was now no one's friend, for we knew it had teeth that pierced holes in your flesh, it had voice that would speak louder than yours, it had anger that would cloud your mind and steal your good thoughts. It wasn't even father's friend, as for now it would just change him. The beast was an annoyance, that we couldn't rid from our lives, he had turned sour and selfish, ruining the feasts of others for as long as he stayed. But the beast wasn't living, it was only the content of our tankards, horns, bottles and mugs...
Today, I was thinking back on my life and I remembered the battle my father had with a beast that followed us around as our clan traveled. It was all very vague in my memory, so I thought I'd write it down, so I can look back on my life as an elderly woman and not forget such detail I may remember now. The Battle of the Beast; My father stood by the beast at first, so did the rest of us, for the beast represented celebration and wondrous times of victory. Father claiming it for himself, the beast was nothing but his friend. The beast something all the men of our clan knew very well, hand in hand we traveled along with our good friend, the beast. The beast was one of my father's best friends, but soon, he felt he wanted it only for himself, no one other would he share with. The other men of the clan wanted to greet and embrace the beast too... But father circled them with a growl and a glare, warning them to stay clear of the beast. Burt, Burt. He warned the men, for if they were to not back away he would rob them of their lives, or better said their pride and ban them from the Elínbjörtr's travels. For he knew, some were not wanted elsewhere. Mother, Ásvör, found herself jealous of the beast, for it stole her sweet Bjarki's time, money and kindhearted spirit. The beast scared my mother as it had strong hands that he struck upon her when she told father what she thought and his fierce words had tinted the mood. When we took the beast from father, elta, elta, he would chase after. Taking the beast back, guiding it to his feasts again. The beast was now no one's friend, for we knew it had teeth that pierced holes in your flesh, it had voice that would speak louder than yours, it had anger that would cloud your mind and steal your good thoughts. It wasn't even father's friend, as for now it would just change him. The beast was an annoyance, that we couldn't rid from our lives, he had turned sour and selfish, ruining the feasts of others for as long as he stayed. But the beast wasn't living, it was only the content of our tankards, horns, bottles and mugs...
