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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Aug 31, 2024
In Spoiler Fanfiction
Part 2 Some notes -- • First, thanks so much for all the people who encouraged me to write a second part! I hope you find this just as or even more enjoyable than the last. • As always, PLEASE pick this to pieces. If anything is canonically incorrect, please let me know. • I live in the UK and spell accordingly, so please forgive my strange spelling and wording. If you have any questions about said spelling and wording, I will be glad to answer them. Now, on with the story! * The inn was brimming with several travellers and merchants who were making the pilgrimage to Lorryshire for the spring celebrations. Voices and laughter and a gentle music flooded Artham’s ears, overwhelming his senses. He could dimly hear Arundelle enter behind him, and sense her presence at his back. She asked him a question, something about if he had seen Esben. There. Artham saw Natan sitting beside the fire, his whistleharp in hand, his eyes closed in concentration as he played a low, mournful ballad. He seemed oblivious to the noise surrounding him, a look of perfect contentment on his clean-shaven face. The slightest turn of his brow, and the way his lips lowered as he blew into the reed of his instrument, all hinted at a deeper sorrow beneath his peace. Artham could have sworn he had seen this same look on the bard’s face for as long as he could remember. Natan was a man of peace, a rock, a fortress, strong and impregnable. And yet… he was always sad. He was like the man who had accepted the cold reality of his world, and had no other choice than to live in it. All of this ran through Artham’s mind as he squeezed between tables and benches, and apologised to Mrs. Illing when he nearly toppled her over as she carried several goblets on a precarious tray. When he finally made it to Natan, he bent on one knee to speak to him, and hesitated. The bard still seemed so deep in his… whatever it is he was in, that Artham didn’t want to interrupt. Arundelle spoke from behind him. “Papa?” Natan finished the last of his melody, ending on a particularly dissatisfying note, as if there was a missing happy ending after a great battle. He opened his eyes, which were soft and grey like swirling storm clouds, and turned to face his daughter. He hardly seemed to notice Artham, who was kneeling directly in front of him. “Yes, love?” “Where’s Esben?” Artham blurted. “Did he come in here?” Natan settled his gaze on Artham. “Yes. He was looking for my sons. He should be upstairs, where I sent him, in our room.” “Thank you, Papa,” Arundelle replied. “Come on, Artham.” With a grateful nod to the bard, Artham stood to his feet to follow Arundelle. Natan continued to play his whistleharp, this time beginning with a steady plucking of the strings, creating an eerie melody that was carrying him into — Artham shook his head to clear his mind as he ascended the stairs. He often forgot, having no musicians in his family, that the Maker had instilled a powerful magic in music. There was something so alluring about a melody, like a poem singing without words. He wondered if Arundelle felt the same way. She led Artham to one of the rooms at the far end of the hall, from where he heard a very loud and ominous banging. Nearly all of his anxiety fled, because only Esben could create such a raucous. His thoughts were confirmed when Arundelle carefully opened the door, nearly assaulted by a book flying through the doorway. Laughter and shouting pierced the air, and Arundelle hid a chuckle as she invited Artham inside. His jaw dropped at the chaos ensuing in the small room. The beds had been moved and completely stripped of their sheets and pillows to create some sort of fort behind the dresser, which was also pushed away from the wall. Esben and the twins were scurrying between the barricades they had constructed, hurling whatever objects were nearby, including pillows, books, and articles of clothing. Artham ducked when a comb was thrown in his direction. He understood now why Natan preferred to be downstairs while Merna was away. Annoyance quickly overshadowed his concerns. “Esben —” he started, stepping into the torrent. He was promptly smacked by a tunic, which hung over his head like a veil. The three boys were still for a few moments, waiting for Artham’s reaction, before bursting into fits of laughter. He was thankful for the covering over his face as his cheeks burned at the sound of Arundelle’s giggling. Artham huffed, pulling the shirt off of his head. “Esben, you know you can’t run off like that.” “You knew I’d be here.” “Still —” Artham cut himself off with a sigh. Esben had a point. “Please don’t ever assume I know where you are.” Esben hardly seemed to be paying attention anymore as the boys began their game again. “I will come back to make sure you get ready for the festival.” Artham added, ducking as something whistled over his head. “And don’t throw anymore books!” The boys had returned to their playing as if their siblings were never there, completely ignorant to Artham’s presence. He sighed and turned to leave. Arundelle followed him outside, softly closing the door behind them. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just excited to see each other.” “I know.” “My papa will be here to watch them. So what would you like to do?” Artham turned to face her, finding his heart fluttering as she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes twinkling in a smile like she held some untold secret. He found it difficult to speak with the lump in his throat. “Whatever you would like to do, I guess.” “No, I asked what you would like to do.” “I would like to do whatever you would like to do.” Arundelle rolled her eyes. “We haven’t seen each other in two years, and you have nothing you want to show me or do with me?” Artham blushed again, swallowing. “I would like to do something with you, but I want to do whatever you want to do.” If it were possible, Arundelle’s smile deepened. “Follow me, then.” To Artham’s shock and delight, Arundelle took him by the hand — her graceful, ink-stained left hand in his rough, calloused right — and led him down the hall and stairs. He was so focused on her warm, gentle touch, completely oblivious to his careening down the steps and stumbling past people and tables and chairs. She released her grasp when they left the inn, and it was as though Artham was snapped out of a trance, and found himself in the present world again. Something like queasiness lingered in his stomach, and he found his lips in a perpetual smile. She had held his hand. “Where are we going?” he asked, still in somewhat of a daze. “I want to show you my favourite place in all of Anniera,” Arundelle replied. “Come on, it’s not far.” Artham was dimly aware of the warm stones in the road beneath his feet as he walked beside her, which served to remind him he had left his boots behind in the inn — but the thought quickly passed. Arundelle was quiet, humming a tune he didn’t recognise, one that stirred a sense of adventure as well as longing for the hearth. “What’s that you’re singing?” he asked, finally finding his voice. He still wasn’t sure why he found it so difficult to speak. “It’s a lullaby my father wrote for me before I was born. He sings it every night as my brothers and I fall asleep,” she answered somewhat shyly. “I’m sorry, I’m sometimes not aware that I’m humming.” “Don’t apologise,” Artham laughed. “Your voice is beautiful.” “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want to give the impression that I’m bragging about myself.” “You aren’t at all.” “But I don’t want anyone to praise me,” Arundelle continued, her brows furrowing as she stared ahead, deep in thought. “I don’t want to be praised for something I was given.” “What do you mean?” “I mean I did nothing to receive the gift to sing,” she explained, “or write or play the whistleharp, even. Yes, those gifts were cultivated from years of training, but I did nothing to deserve those gifts.” “It was the Maker’s good pleasure to do so.” “Yes. It’s why I don’t want to use my gifts to receive praise from others. They’re only for His pleasure.” Artham was quiet for a few moments, carefully considering his words. “I don’t think that’s entirely right.” Arundelle raised a brow. “Explain it to me.” “When your father sings your lullaby to you, is it for your pleasure?” “I suppose,” she said slowly. “But he sings your lullaby because he loves you,” he explained. “Because he loves you, he wants to do something that makes you feel loved, that pleases you. I think the Maker gave us gifts not only for His good pleasure, but because He loves us, and loves giving us gifts. And those gifts are meant to bless Him as well as others.” Arundelle was quiet, a shadow of a smile on her face as she contemplated his words. Artham anxiously waited for her to respond, unsure how to interpret her silence or facial expression. Had he offended her? Did he say too much? Not enough? Did he sound stupid? Or did he sound arrogant? Was his rebuke too harsh? Should he have not said anything in the first place? Should he apologise? “You’re right, Artham,” she said finally, her full smile returning. She turned to face him, and the shame that once resided in her irises had all but disappeared. “Those were some of the wisest words I’ve ever heard. You’re a good friend. Thank you.” Elation swelled in Artham’s chest once more until he felt he was going to burst. Or even better yet, it would carry him into the sky, where he could shout and sing for joy. Nothing in all of Aerwiar felt more wonderful. “You’re welcome,” he answered, his voice shaking. Why was there a tremor in his voice? Why couldn’t he stop smiling? Arundelle led Artham to the cliffside on the far east side of Lorryshire, where the land rose up over the sea like a petrified ocean wave. Tufts of grass sprouted between enormous black and grey stones, and a few shrubs and saplings had poked their way past the rock. The air was salty and wet, and the wind roared in their ears and playfully tossed their hair. Finally, they came to a stop at an enormous tree, its branches rocking like it was being cradled to sleep by the breeze. It bent slightly over the cliff, peering into the sea below. “This is my writing tree,” Arundelle explained, her voice hardly heard over the wind. “It’s where I come to think and sing and be alone.” Artham felt like he was intruding, but was honoured nonetheless. They climbed the tree and nestled in its swaying branches to watch the sea rush to meet the sky at the horizon. For a while, they were silent, enjoying each other’s company and the beauty of the Maker’s hand. And all the while, Artham couldn’t deny that something inside of him was soaring. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing — it felt right. He knew he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in Aerwiar, and wished he could remain in the boughs of that tree with Arundelle forever. Then, over the whistling breeze, Artham heard singing. The voice was soft and fragile, alluring and gentle, rising and falling ever so gracefully in an enchanting melody. It was unlike any other sound in the world, comparable with the lone fendril’s song as it streaked across the sky. “Sail away on silver seas Cease to cry, my love Dry your tears in the breeze O sweetest love, cease to fear The night does not last Dawn will come soon, my dear” Artham was enraptured by the lullaby, and found himself leaning against the tree trunk, his eyes fluttering closed. For the first time in years, he slept in those sweeping branches above the thrashing ocean in complete peace, his mind wrapped around nothing else other than the lovely Arundelle.
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Aug 29, 2024
In Spoiler Fanfiction
Part 1 Some notes — • I’m sorry if this title is misleading. I wasn’t sure what to call it. But this short story is about Artham and Arundelle (falling in love, specifically)! I’ve always wanted to do a fan fiction on this, and since it is a very long short story, I’m dividing it into different parts, but the story can run together all at once. • PLEASE pick this to pieces! If any of you find anything canonically incorrect, let me know and I will gladly fix it. I make a couple of big steps canon-wise, so definitely don’t be shy if something isn’t right or doesn’t make sense. • I live in the UK, so forgive my strange language and slang… If you have any questions about the meaning of said UK language and slang, I’ll be happy to answer! (I always try my best to use more American slang, but it just doesn’t fit in my head… sorry…) • The drawing is my own art. (That’s the only thing new about this post, if you’ve already read this.) I will also be posting it in its own separate post in Form under T.H.A.G.S. I hope to do one for each of the three parts! Now — on with the story! * The sun had finally emerged after weeks of wintry grey clouds, and the Shining Isle of Anniera was an emerald green after months of snow. A laughing gale danced through the trees and kicked the ocean waves, and every bird and bee chirped and buzzed along with it. The sweet smell of a waking spring permeated the island, and every Annieran inhaled deeply its scent and looked forward to the celebration of the new year’s arrival. These words floated into Artham’s mind as he stepped out of the grounds of Castle Rysen and beheld his home unrolling like a scroll before him. The hills, moors, trees, and ocean in the distance beckoned him, welcoming him to steal away before the festivities tonight. But Esben, as per usual, had other plans. His younger brother came trotting behind him, and slapped Artham’s back in a playful clap. “I’ll race you to the shore.” Artham raised a brow. “You lose every time.” “I can sense today will be my victory,” Esben replied with a grin. “Or are you too afraid to lose to your little brother?” Artham put his arm around Esben’s shoulder so that their arms were linked. “I have nothing to fear. I will always be quicker than you.” “Unless today is the day I defeat you,” Esben corrected. And before his brother could respond, a wide grin spread across his face and he said: “Meet you at the shore!” Before the words left his mouth, Esben tore away at an amazing speed down the road in his bare feet, his boots still in hand. Several people and carts had to make room for him as he barrelled down without regard for anything or anyone else. With a sigh and shake of his head, Artham followed, apologising to everyone he passed. Even though Esben was very fast, his speed quickly waned, and Artham caught up. He ran alongside his brother, not wanting to admit the burning in his lungs from catching up to him. But he managed to breathe out, “The shore it is, then.” And as Esben struggled to reply through his gasping breaths, Artham bounded ahead past the outskirts of the city and followed the river Rysen to the sea. He could never explain it, but something inside him soared when he ran, and he felt as though he was flying. Elation and joy swelled in him until he felt weightless, and allowed the laughing gale to carry him into the hills. Without warning, Artham felt his foot catch something lying in his path. His other foot promptly ran into it as well, and he found himself toppling face first into the grass on the moory hillside. He hadn’t been looking where he was going, and tripped right over a fallen tree branch. Ruddy trees, Artham thought as he picked himself up, wincing at the blood beginning to seep from his scratched feet. He realised he hadn’t bothered to put on his shoes, either. His boots lay tumbled and forgotten beside him. A pair of footsteps was approaching him, and he assumed it was Esben. Artham prepared himself to run, but when he looked up, he found it wasn’t his brother at all. It was a girl. Artham’s jaw went slack, feeling stupid without his shoes, bleeding after just having fallen. He rummaged around for them in the grass, grimacing when he realised he had forgotten socks. “Are you alright?” The girl asked as she trekked up the hill. Artham stood up straight, his boots in hand, wanting to hide his face. Surely the girl would recognise him — everyone did. What would she say to the apprentice Throne Warden without his shoes, and without his younger brother? His thoughts then drifted to Esben, and he glanced over his shoulder to look for him. He was nowhere in sight. When he turned back around, the girl was standing only an arm’s length from him, concern written across her tender expression. Long brown hair drifted behind her like a cascading waterfall, and her gentle green eyes, like a pair of jewels, analysed him with worry. He noticed she carried a satchel over her shoulder, and her hands were stained with ink. “Did you hear me? Are you alright?” she repeated. Artham felt a loss for words, and nodded. He then followed with a: “Yes. I’m fine.” “I saw your trip,” she continued. “That was a nasty fall.” Artham wasn’t sure how to respond, and was still wondering why he couldn’t break his gaze from her eyes when Esben came huffing and puffing behind him. His brother didn’t even stop to see what had happened before he stumbled down the hill to the beach, collapsing on the shore and allowing the waves to slosh over him. The girl watched Esben, giggling. “He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him.” So this girl did know who they were. Artham was beginning to wonder if she knew that she was in the presence of the two princes of Anniera. “You’ve definitely gotten taller,” she added when she turned to face him again. Artham blinked a few times, unaware of the blush creeping up his cheeks. She spoke as if she knew them personally. “Do you remember me?” she asked. He shook his head, and quickly said, “No, but you’re familiar.” A delicate smile touched her lips. “My name is Arundelle.” Artham’s jaw fell open — “Arundelle!” he said with his own smile, his mind bubbling with pleasant and distant memories. “I almost didn’t recognise you. You’ve grown a lot in two years.” Arundelle’s cheeks lightly flushed and she avoided his gaze. “You, too.” “Is your family here?” Artham asked. “I didn’t know you were coming.” “It was meant to be a surprise,” she explained. “We always look forward to your family’s visits, especially my father. Natan is like the brother he never had.” “My father is a bit of a Song Master and Lore Wain himself, isn’t he?” Arundelle laughed. “Being the Royal Bard of Anniera has similar duties. But what about you and your brother? Is Anniera without a Song Master or Maiden for another generation?” “Esben is enough.” “I’m enough of what?” Esben called as he ran up the hill, his breathing still ragged. He turned to Artham with narrowed eyes. “What were you saying about me?” “That you’re enough trouble to look after,” Artham playfully punched his brother’s shoulder. Esben returned his punch with twice the force. “Admit it, without me, your life would be boring and bookish.” “Perhaps,” Artham said, rubbing his bruising arm with a chuckle. It was certainly a thought. What would his life be like without Esben? What would his life be like if he wasn’t a Throne Warden? What if he was alone, left to rule the throne by himself? Artham quickly brushed the thought away — he couldn’t imagine a life without Esben, without his responsibility as his protector. Without that… his life was pointless. He was pointless. “So who are you?” Esben turned to Arundelle, surveying her. “My name is Arundelle,” she answered. “Oh, yeah! Your father is the Royal Bard!” Esben exclaimed, his expression brightening with an enormous smile. “Are your brothers here?” Artham forgot about Arundelle’s younger twin brothers, Cador and Sheridan. They must be twelve years old by now, and probably still every bit as precocious as they were two years ago. While Artham and Arundelle perused the library and walked the grounds at their leisure, they were constantly met with Esben and the twins at his heels, hailing pranks and trouble wherever they tread. “They are,” she said with a knowing smile. “We’re staying at the Illing Inn.” “The one beside the Blundering Baker?” “Yes.” “Artham, can we go see them?” Esben asked, turning toward his brother and bouncing on his toes. “We’ll see them at the festivities tonight,” Artham replied. “And we don’t want to go see Natan and Merna unannounced.” “They won’t mind,” Arundelle assured him. “You know my parents would be delighted to see you. And my brothers have been looking forward to seeing Esben for months.” Artham sighed, not wanting to manage Esben with the troublesome twins around. He nodded his consent, and Esben squealed a thank you before dashing up the hill and to the road. “Esben, wait!” Artham called, running up behind him. A quick look over his shoulder told him Arundelle was following at a steady trot, her hair rippling behind her like a flag adorning a ship’s mast. Esben stopped at the top of the hill, turning with an ecstatic grin. “Hurry up!” When Artham and Arundelle arrived, they found Esben already tearing down the lane, again narrowly missing people and carts as he ran. Artham followed his brother at a walking pace once Esben stopped beside the road an arrow’s shot away, wheezing. It wouldn’t be too difficult to keep up with him. “So what were you doing at the beach?” Artham asked Arundelle as she walked beside him. Even in her simple dress and loose hair tossed by the wind, she carried herself like a queen, noble and humble and graceful. “I was writing,” she answered, brushing aside a few strands of her hair. Her face was still flushed from running. “That explains the ink stains,” Artham added, eyeing her hands. “Oh,” she said, examining them with a laugh. He noticed she had got a bit of ink on her cheek as well. “I’m left-handed, and the fresh ink always smears when I write.” “What were you writing?” Artham asked, and quickly added: “If I may ask.” “Poetry,” she replied simply. “And stories. Do you still write?” Something inside Artham’s chest blossomed with joy, and he couldn’t help but smile. He had never met a girl who not only enjoyed poetry, but wrote it like he did. It was his mother, Nala, who had introduced him to the numerous poetry books that now lined the shelves of his bedroom, but she didn’t have a gift for writing. And he had grown up his entire life with Esben, who hardly cared for the written word besides the occasional silly limerick and ballad. “Definitely,” he nodded, still smiling. “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.” “Well, it’s fairly recent,” Arundelle explained. “I took to songwriting when I was making up my own tunes on my whistleharp, and my parents suggested I start writing poetry, too. I didn’t really bother with it until now.” “Why did you decide to start now?” Arundelle flushed a deeper pink, and Artham wasn’t sure whether it was because of the running or embarrassment. “Where’s Esben?” she asked, all humour in her voice gone, the red in her face draining away. Artham saw that Esben had disappeared. There was no sign of him in the street. Panicked, he glanced up and down the lane, scanning through faces and shops to find — nothing. Without another thought or word to Arundelle, he dashed down the road, the stones biting into his bare feet, calling his brother’s name. Some Throne Warden he was turning out to be. He could hear his Aunt Illia’s single command echoing in his mind: protect. If he couldn’t keep track of Esben in a village street, then how could he guard him on the battlefield? It was in these moments that the responsibility of a Throne Warden weighed on his shoulders to near crushing. His mind reeled at the thought of actually being responsible for someone’s life, let alone his younger brother’s. It was in these moments that he wondered if he was ever fit to be a Throne Warden at all. Finally, Artham came to a halt in front of the Illing Inn. Surely Esben had just barged in without word or warning, and was safe inside with the twins. With a short prayer to the Maker, he pushed the door open. * And that’s all, folks! Tell me if I should continue this, or if this is any good. I appreciate any feedback. Thank you so much for reading!
The First Breath of Spring (Part 1) content media
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Aug 28, 2024
In Spoiler Fanfiction
Prologue Some notes: • PLEASE pick this to pieces! If anything is canonically incorrect, please let me know. I take quite a few bold steps in this story canon-wise, so let me know if any of them are out of line. • If you haven’t read all of the Wingfeather Saga and Wingfeather Tales: Seven Thrilling Stories From the World of Aerwiar, I wouldn’t suggest reading this. The events that take place here heavily rely on all of the events in those five books. (If you haven’t read Wingfeather Tales, you technically can read and understand, but there will be spoilers.) • And as always, I live in the UK and spell and write accordingly. So forgive my strange spelling and wording😁 • Lastly, this “Prologue” is more like two chapters in one post. On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness starts with three little “introductions,” and I do the same here. * A Brief Introduction to the Shining Isle of Anniera Many people, even those beyond the edges of the maps, know of the legendary exiled High King of Anniera, his Throne Warden brother, and Song Maiden sister who vanquished Gnag the Nameless and his Fangs of Dang. They are Janner, Kalmar, and Leeli Wingfeather, who liberated their cloven people and restored the Shining Isle to its original glory. For many years after Gnag’s reign, the people of Anniera lived in peace, basking under the joyful rule of their High King. It took at least a decade for the island to begin flourishing as it once did, and begin trading in the Green Hollows and Woes of Shreve, as well as relearn their old stories and songs from forgotten days of old. Soon, the Shining Isle was rebuilt over the ruins, and the people took on their new names and put the pains of the Great War behind them. Towns and villages were built, forests and farms were cultivated, and roads and paths were unearthed and paved. People began to settle and farm, fish and sail, and sing and write songs again. Anniera was teeming with life, just as it had before. It would be a quarter of a century before danger once again lapped the shores of the Shining Isle. * A (Slightly) Less Brief Introduction to the Wingfeather Family In the Maker’s great blessing, the Wingfeather family grew much in those twenty-five blissful years. Castle Rysen was quite empty when High King Kalmar first began to rebuild it, and now it was fully restored with a family twice the size inhabiting it. When Kalmar was of age, he began courting a girl called Galya. Five years later, after much anticipation and many sleepless nights, he found the courage to marry her. Not too long after, Galya gave birth to their first daughter, Liel. Two years later, her younger brother and the future High King, Jeshri, was born. And then came their Song Master brother, Rayen, and finally Ira, the first Lore Wain in generations. All of Anniera rejoiced over them all, and took each of them as a sign of the Maker’s hand upon the kingdom. No one had any doubt that the Shining Isle would continue to prosper. But even then, everyone felt an unease creeping over their island. And even then it was quickly forgotten and dismissed as old suspicions. Even before Kalmar took Galya to be his wife, Janner Wingfeather married Sara Cobbler, a daughter of Skree, as soon as they were of age. It was a while later before they had twins, Eremund and Illia, named after the great Throne Wardens before their father. Sara nearly died the night she gave birth to them, and could no longer bear anymore children. The family and people grieved over this, but were grateful to the Maker that Sara and her children lived. It was a day of much sorrow and joy when Leeli Wingfeather left the Shining Isle to be married to Thorn O’Sally, a son of the Hollows. Her family visited her many times throughout the year, and Leeli and Thorn, always followed by their faithful dogs, visited Anniera even more. And even before Janner and Kalmar, Artham Wingfeather, their uncle and their father’s Throne Warden, finally married Arundelle, the love of his life, after ten years of waiting. They had one child, Esben, named after the High King before Kalmar, Artham’s younger brother. Nia Wingfeather, who was widowed during the Great War, gladly cared for her family as a mother and grandmother, and became a keeper of Anniera’s history, culture, and tradition. Besides Janner, Kalmar sought his mother’s counsel in all his years of rule. And that was why High King Kalmar Wingfeather turned to his mother when Prince Majah of Yorsha Doon came to the Shining Isle dressed in rags, begging to help. * Lemme know what you guys think and if I should continue this! I’ve told this idea to many fellow featherheads, and they’ve all agreed I should write it. I appreciate any feedback!
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Aug 28, 2024
In Wingfeather Saga Memes
Random featherhead memes. FOR NO REASON. (For reference, this is not my meme, but a friend of mine made this, who is not on TTH. This is not my meme☝🏻 If you know the contemporary worship song “Christ is My Firm Foundation,” and have attended a youth group or Bible camp, you will find this hilarious. This is all of our faces and poses during worship.) (Also my friend’s meme☝🏻) (This is my remake of my friend’s meme☝🏻 Notice Janner’s facial expressions are perfect for each book.) Anyway, hope that was enjoyable!
I had to… sorry, not sorry😄 (AKA, Various Featherhead Memes) content media
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Aug 27, 2024
In Monster in the Hollows
Bonifer Squoon ruined everything. From the very beginning before the Wingfeather Saga, he poisoned the Wingfeather family like a silent cancer, steadily growing unnoticed until it was too late. Even before the Saga, he deceived each of the High Kings: Ortham, Esben, and was even going to give young Kalmar to Gnag the Nameless. When the Wingfeathers, Oskar, and Podo came to Ban Rona, they were met with much strife and anger from the Hollowsfolk. Artham was chased away and fled to Skree because he couldn’t stand being so close to Throg, and the people couldn’t tolerate having a cloven among them. (Kalmar was also treated similarly.) But when I was rereading The Monster in the Hollows when Artham is about to flee to Skree, I realised… If Artham somehow remained behind in the Green Hollows, would the Wingfeathers have been warned about Bonnifer Squoon? Yes, it’s a wild thought, but I wonder if Artham knew about Bonifer’s betrayal. Esben clearly did when he took his revenge on Bonifer at the end of TMitH, and Bonifer also admitted to opening the gates of Castle Rysen to be overrun with Fangs. So did both of the brothers know of the man’s treachery? Technically, since Artham was carried to Throg along with Esben, neither of them would have known that Bonifer survived. But if Artham knew Bonifer was still alive and well and living in the Hollows, would he have left? Would Bonnifer Squoon have been arrested if the Hollowsfolk knew of his treachery? If he was, then the Wingfeathers wouldn’t have been betrayed to Gnag the Nameless. Would Kalmar have found the bear cloven in the cave? Would they discover that the cloven was Esben all along? And would Nia would have married Rudric? And an even deeper thought… Would Esben still be alive if only Artham stayed?
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Jul 01, 2024
In The Warden and the Wolf King
Okay, so I was looking back over N!OBE and I realised something CRAZY, guys. I know this is in tWatWK discussion, but you'll soon see why I put it here. It was not a mistake. So I was reading back over the chapter "Ouster Will and the First Books." And I found this on page 85: "'Her name was Alma Rainwater,' Nia said. 'She was a good friend of mine. We always thought she would marry your uncle. We hoped she would. But she never made it out of the castle.'" STOP. RIGHT. THERE. At the footnote at the bottom of page 85, it says, "Though little is known outside of the Shining Isle, Alma Rainwater was one of the many Annieran poets whose work was hailed as revolutionary because it rhymed and followed a strict form called ba-dum-ba-dum pentameter." We know that Alma Rainwater was actually the pen name of Arundelle, as we learn in tWatWK (pg. 225). But the reason I stop us at page 85 of N!OBE is this: Why was Arundelle in Castle Rysen the night Anniera was invaded? According to Nia, she was there with them when the Fangs came, and she never made it out of the castle. But why would she be there? She didn't live there. She was an honoured poet in Anniera, yes, but that doesn't mean she lived in Castle Rysen. And we read in tWatWK, after Janner plants the new seed (😢) to restore the Annierans to humans, Arundelle is also transformed by Janner's sacrifice. And after Artham learns she's alive, she asks him, "Artham Wingfeather, will you still have me?" (pg. 487) When I first read this, I thought it was because of her failure in the past when she became a cloven. But why would that matter now if she's restored? So that brings us back to our original question: Why was Arundelle in Castle Rysen the night Anniera was invaded? My theory is this: Artham invited her to the castle so that he could propose to her.😏 And either he never got around to it or she never said yes because the Fangs were storming the castle. So this would explain her question, "Will you still have me?" So what do you guys think? Why do you think Arundelle was in Castle Rysen that night?
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Jun 28, 2024
In The Warden and the Wolf King
This is just a theory I had after reading Batwhacker’s post on drowning in the First Well possibilities (😂). Because Azog mentioned that the Maker probably put some kind of magic around it that they would be rescued, like Susan’s horn from the Chronicles of Narnia. And I wonder… since the First Well is never ACTUALLY REALLY in any of the book scenes (it’s mentioned and recalled, but us readers never visit it in person), is there a guardian of the First Well? Like the Maker or Dwayne and Gladys put a guardian over the Well to protect it. Which leads into this… Ouster Will drank from the First Well to essentially make himself immortal. If there was a guardian, did he slay this guardian? Or hurt this guardian enough to steal the water? Which leads to… If the guardian was only hurt and stayed alive (by drinking from the First Well, of course), is the guardian the one that leads people to the First Well? Like Artham escaping from Throg, or Oood and Kalmar finding the water… (Of course, if the guardian died, then these characters found the Well on their own.) If this guardian over the First Well were a thing, then they would probably be some kind of angel. (Do angels exist in Aerwiar?🤔 I assume so…) Or at least like Tom Bombadil in the Lord of the Rings, this mysterious fellow with yellow rain boots and hums silly songs and is followed by bumblebees… clears throat and coughs (Tom Bombadil TOTALLY isn’t my fave character in LOTR…😅) Let me know what y’all think of this random theory! I don’t think this guardian ACTUALLY exists in Aerwiar, but that would be cool…
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Jun 28, 2024
In Wingfeather Saga Memes
You know you are one of these three.
The Group Chat at 3AM content media
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Jun 20, 2024
In Wingfeather Saga Memes
Leeli is horribly wrong.
This May Be a Remake, But It’s Still Funny content media
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
Jun 07, 2024
In The Warden and the Wolf King
I have heard quite a few crazy theories on Kalmar’s romance story after tWatWK. Guys. Kal did not marry Sara. Just… no. Even if Janner wasn’t restored by the Well (by some crazy miracle of the Maker)… Just no. But here’s the real reason I posted this! Janner has Sara, and Leeli has Thorn, but Kal seems to be a single Pringle throughout the entire series😢 (I have heard someone say he liked Maraly, but… I have my own personal reasons on why that would never work.) (Kal probably did like Maraly at one point, but he and Maraly are too similar to each other to have a good romantic relationship. Plus, Maraly’s happily fighting alongside the Florid Sword in Skree! And Kalmar obviously needs to rule Anniera. The end.) But what about… Galya???🤔😉 Anyone remember her? She was mentioned in one of the very last chapters of tWatWK. If you remember, she used to be Nuzzard (the Grey Fang kept by the Hollowsfolk, seen in both MitH and tWatWK). After Janner’s sacrifice, she bows before Kalmar and says, “My king! The Stonekeeper called me Nuzzard.” (My reaction: 😨😨😨😨😨 wHaAaAaAaT?!) Anyway, Kal picks her up, AND I QUOTE — “She was beautiful.” That one simple sentence has all sorts of meanings. It can mean she was just pretty in general, or Kal thought she was pretty. And Kalmar goes on, “Your new name shall be Galya. How does that sound?” Galya responds (quietly, shyly), “I like that very much, your majesty.” NOW. This sounds like a hopeless romantic rant, but I’d like to think that Kalmar ISN’T single and ISN’T with Sara OR Maraly. He’s with Galya😄 But what do you guys think?
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
May 31, 2024
In Crafts and Creations
Unfortunately, I do not have a drawing tablet. (I spent too much money on WFS merch to get one.) So I draw by hand with pencil and ink in my sketchbook. So… I just took pictures of my sketchbook. Sorry if they’re low quality😂 But these pieces are based off of Angelina Corsair’s (@dangernoodledragon) fan art of Peet, so go and check out her stuff, too! (THIS IMAGE BELOW IS NOT MY ARTWORK.) But I’ll put the image here if any of you don’t have Instagram: As you can see below, I could fit only five on my sketchbook page😂 (sorry!) And here are some close-ups. Sorry that some of the other images run into each other a little😂 Hopefully those look nice!😄 I absolutely take requests, so if anyone would like me to draw anything specifically, I would be glad to. I also plan on doing art work for my own writing and fan fiction. If you haven’t read any of mine, please go check it out❤️ Also — FANGS ARE UGLY!
Peet the Sock Man (fan art by Rhu) content media
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
May 31, 2024
In Wingfeather Saga Memes
I interviewed the Igiby family, Podo Helmer, and Peet the Sock Man on how they do their laundry… They gave some interesting answers😂😅 How the Igibys Wash Their Laundry: Nia: “I wash them in the bin outside the cottage.” Janner: “I helped with most of it… I was late because I was still at Book and Crannies.” Tink: “Wait, we wash our clothes?” Leeli: “Nugget accidentally jumped into the wash bin and we had to clean him and the clothes.” Podo: “Wash? Yeh just dunk ‘em in the River Blapp fer a good soak.” Peet: “See these mismatched socks here?” extends socked arms “I always lose one of the pair.” How the Igibys Dry Their Laundry: Nia: “I hang them on the clothesline outside.” Janner: “I accidentally tripped and dropped my clothes in the grass, so Mama forced me to wash them again.” Tink: “If Mama makes me do my laundry, I just put my clothes on. I’m too impatient to wait for my clothes to dry.” Leeli: “I help Mama the best I can to hang them.” Podo: “After soaking ‘em in the river, yeh just leave ‘em on the lawn. The heat will make quick work of drying ‘em.” Peet: “Dry? My socks are still damp from the wet leaves I just had… Want some?” How the Igibys Fold Their Laundry: Nia: “I fold them neatly and set the children’s clothes out for the next day.” Janner: “Mama taught me how to fold laundry, but I can never get them to be as perfect as hers!” Tink: “Wait, we fold the laundry?” Leeli: “I help Mama fold the laundry a lot. I usually redo Janner’s and Tink’s because they never do it properly.” Podo: “Fold? No, yeh just crumple ‘em up and throw them in yer pack or the dresser.” Peet: “Fold?”
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
May 30, 2024
In Wingfeather Saga Discussion
Before you continue to read this post, I gauruntee you that I am not as crazy as you think. (HAH, I’M CRAZIER.) No, I agree that Artham and Peet are one and the same person… OR ARE THEY?! I just didn’t know what to title this post😂 I just wanted to point out the fact, and hear your thoughts on this, on Artham’s name(s?). Of course, his given name is Artham P. Wingfeather. We can all agree on that. But in OtEotDSoD, he’s introduced as Peet the Sock Man, Glipwood’s crazy person and comedian (i.e. reciting silly poetry, juggling buckets beside the precarious cliffs, and attacking innocent street signs with wonderful mothers). But I want to point out the fact that Artham NEVER calls himself Peet. Ever. In OtEotDSoD, when the Igiby (Wingfeather) kids are in Peet’s (castle) tree house, Janner asks him, “So… do we call you Peet? Is that your real name?” (pg. 181) This of course implies that no one in Glipwood knows Artham’s real name. Of course, I doubt Artham would actually introduce himself to the Glipwood townsfolk… why would he if he doesn’t live there? (All he does is, again, recite poetry, juggle buckets, and attack street signs. In his spare time, he protects the Igiby kids.) So you kind of get the idea that Peet is just his nickname? Like no one actually bothered to ask him his name😢 Or someone somehow learned about the first letter of his middle name (🤔) and just called him Peet. Point is, we get the idea he’s just KNOWN as Peet, not that he calls himself that. Anyway, on with the story. Artham replies, “What’s a real name? Is Janner Igiby your real name?” Janner replies, “Yes sir.” And Artham, being, well, Artham, asks, “Is it?” and keeps cooking (pg. 181)😂 This… kind of answers their question. Artham doesn’t seem to accept OR deny that Peet is his real name. He’s, of course, caught in between man and Fang, so that’s something to consider going on through his head. Some diligent readers might point out that in N!OBE, when going into Artham’s perspectives, he is called both Peet and Artham. Again, Artham doesn’t CALL himself Peet, but it is rather narrated in a way that looks like these two men (Artham and Peet) are fighting over one mind. So… where did the name Peet COME FROM??? My current thought is his middle name, which starts with the letter p. But… we never actually learn what his middle name is😂 (We learn Oskar’s! Oskar Noss Reteep😄) (Also, I love to imagine that his full name is Artham Peter Wingfeather. That would fit with the Peet name and… well, I think it sounds nice😂☺️) Or some random folk in Glipwood just… called him that? Like Artham is muttering nonsense to himself and hear his middle name somehow through his gibberish… I really don’t know😭😭😭 What do you think? I’m curious to hear thoughts from fellow Artham fans. Also… FANGS ARE UGLY!
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)
Thwapling Member
Thwapling Member
May 30, 2024
In TV Series Discussion
Okay, when I first saw the WFS short and show, I was a little mad that Peet’s (or Artham’s, whichever you prefer) eyes were mismatched. (One was a brownish-yellow…? and the other was blue.) It is clearly said in OtEotDSoD, chapter four (Peet’s Castle), page 177 (yes, I actually looked this up😂): “His eyes were deep and blue, and they shone like jewels.” (Jewels of Anniera???🤨🤨🤔🤔🤔) (Jkjkjk I don’t think we would consider Artham and Esben to be Jewels ((if we are defining “Jewels of Anniera” to be ones that can open the Fane of Fire)) since they don’t have a third sibling.) But I had a thought. What if the artists were just trying to visibly display another form of his Fangishness without (what’s beneath) the socks? Let’s suppose that the hawk (show-wise, fire hawk, if you’ve seen season two) had brownish-yellow-coloured eyes? We already read in the books that Kalmar’s eyes turn yellow after he’s Fanged, and sometimes when the Fangishness took over him, there were flecks of yellow. When he was in his right mind, they were blue. What if, because Artham (Peet) is caught in between, one eye changed and the other did it? Like the mismatched colours are a way of showing him being torn between man and Fang? Mind you, I haven’t asked Andrew Peterson or Chris Wall this, and I don’t know if anyone has asked them this question before. I mean… Artham’s eye colour(s) is not really THAT important…😅 And if this has been posted on before, I’m sorry. I had no intention of copying😭 Hopefully this satisfies whatever questions you had about Artham’s eye colour(s)?😂 Tell me what y’all think, or if this theory is crazy. There are some crazy things rattling around my brain (which is why I joined TTH). Also… FANGS ARE UGLY!
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Rhu (the Iggiest of Feathers)

Sock-Handed Throne Warden, Royal Bard’s Apprentice, Hobbit Ambassador, (Possibly Elvish) Insomniac, Draconic Linguist, Adorer of Petrichor-Flavoured Tea and/or Fog, Nerd-of-all-Trades & Official Kilt-Wearer

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