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theadventuresofgarlandodra · 8 months

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The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- Hush Little Baby

Prev.

Lydia held her breath as Rillana walked into the room. The queen was as straight faced as she usually was, there was no telling what was going through her mind. That was an admirable quality in a leader, but right now it made Lydia want to strangle her.

“Well!?”

Rillana paused for a moment longer before a smile spread across her face and she nodded. “It took,” she said.

For a second, the world stopped. Lydia had memories flash before her eyes- meeting the Queen for the first time as she was summoned into the royal’s court. Their several years of courting. How the queen would disguise herself so they could enjoy each other’s company in public without a flock of bodyguards. The day Rillana presented Lydia with a poem that took nearly ten minutes to read before presenting Lydia with a tiara made of black pearls and diamonds- the official proclamation of a queen’s love. Their wedding, which was a celebration nearly a month long. How every day was filled with a lifetime of love.

And now, they’d have something just for them.

The world finally moved again and Lydia squealed before pulling Rillana in a tight embrace. Rillana laughed quietly as she wrapped her arms around Lydia, resting her face on Lydia’s shoulder. They said nothing, only sobbing and laughing as they enjoyed this joy.

Lydia rested her hand on her wife’s mostly flat belly. There was a slight difference, but not enough to be noticeable unless you were touching. “So, is it the gargoyle’s?” she asked.

Rillana nodded, wiping her eye. “Oh goddess, I’m such a mess right now. Yes, it is Garl’s. I’ve already sent for the most experienced healers to help me. It’ll likely have to be a cutting birth- I can’t imagine birthing a literal stone that’s bigger than my head.”

Lydia shuddered. “Oh no, definitely not. Come, lie down, you need to rest,” she said as she gently pushed her wife towards the bed.

“This is not the first time I’ve been pregnant, my most beloved,” Rillana protested, but she didn’t resist lying down. “But I am a bit tired, I’ll admit. Another sign I’m expecting again, although this is the first time I’m carrying a child for us.”

It was truly the perfect situation, Lydia thought as she lied down next to her wife. Garl was a lover and leave-her type, odds are he’d never return to this part of the Underdark now that his task was complete. Without any tie to one of Rillana’s husbands, the child would be raised by Lydia instead of one of them. Not that Lydia didn’t love Rillana’s other children, Rillana was a loving mother and her elder children strove to reach her level of greatness. But they each had a father, a father who adored them. Lydia was more of an aunt. But this child… this one would get to be raised by Lydia and Rillana.

Not to mention this got Rillana’s shoe in the door with the nearby gargoyle nest. As a whole, gargoyles kept to themselves, rarely interacting with the world. Garl was an aberration in that way, which Rillana immediately noticed and decided she was going to use. With a gargoyle a part of the royal family, the nearby nest would feel a need to open up conversation with Rillana. No possible way was the child not going to learn of their own culture, of their ancient traditions and The God of Stone.

Not saying that Rillana wouldn’t love them like the rest of her children, but in a royal family, it was chess. Every pawn you had on the board, which not only included both Rillana and Lydia but their family was well, had a purpose to serve. And in this case, a gargoyle child was a very unique and useful pawn.

The door creaked open and Rillana’s husband Molvayas peeked his head in the door. “Permission to enter? I heard rumors of good news,” he said.

Rillana sat up and gestured the shy drow lord in. “Enter, Molvayas. Yes, this news is wonderful- I have become pregnant after my visitation with the visiting gargoyle adventurer,” she said.

“Oh!” Molvayas blinked a few times before he smiled. “That’s wonderful! I hope that you’ll have a daughter that is as regal as you!”

Rillana chuckled and looked down at Lydia. “What do you think? Girl or boy?” she asked.

“I have a feeling it’ll be a boy. I can’t explain it, but I feel this will be a boy,” Lydia said as she sat up. “You don’t have to be so coy about it, Molvayas- your daughter is still the heiress to the North Queen’s throne.”

“I would never think so pettily about such wonderful news,” Molvayas mock gasped before he grinned. “Nevertheless, congratulations to you both. Lydia will take care of the child?”

Lydia nodded, her chest fluttering with pride. Rillana, however, cocked her head to the side. “Come on now, I know you’re not just congratulating me on being with child, I just had my last one barely forty years ago. What is it, Molvayas?” she asked.

“You’re too good at reading me,” Molvayas sighed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s… Keverin.”

Oh goddess. Lydia groaned preemptively and Rillana didn’t even bother to call her out. “What did our son do now?” Rillana asked with her jaw clenched.

Molvayas didn’t say anything, only approaching the royal bed and handing Rillana a folded piece of paper before going to his knees. Rillana opened it and her eyes scanned the written words before she swore and lit the paper on fire with her fingertips.

“What’s wrong, Rillana?” Lydia asked. “Did he get into another fight?”

“Worse.” Rillana squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Apparently, the visit from Odra and her companions has inspired him. He’s going up above the ground… to become a bloody adventurer.”

Lydia’s jaw dropped. “No! He did not! He’s barely ninety-eight, he’s not old enough!” she said.

“I’m well aware of how old he is, but apparently he’s under the impression he’s able to do it.” Rillana took a deep breath before reopening her eyes. “I’m too tired for this. Molvayas, please tell me he’s not left the Underdark.”

“He has, unfortunately. I’m already preparing a retinue of guards to coax him back home… but my queen, I believe this could be for his benefit. If I may speak freely?” Molvayas glanced up for a moment before returning his gaze solidly to the floor.

Rillana twisted her mouth but she nodded curtly.

“Thank you, my queen. I know we both adore Keverin. But he’s strong willed, independent, and more stubborn than the longest day of the year. Being down here has been boring him for years. It’s why he gets in so much trouble,” Molvayas started counting off on his fingers. “The gambling ring, the card playing, the cheating at the cards, the fights he gets into, it’s all because he feels like he has nothing to do. Perhaps a taste of the world outside the safety of the palace will give him some sense, and once he comes home, he’ll have calmed down and will grow for the better.”

Rillana paused to consider this, tapping her fingers on her thigh as she mulled it over in her mind.

“… As long as his guards catch up to him and he doesn’t leave them behind, then I will allow this. Did he bring his goggles? I don’t want his eyes getting sunburnt.”

“He brought the goggles, yes.”

“And he packed well? Plenty of clothing? He grabbed his daggers?”

“Rillana, he’s ninety-eight, not thirty-eight.”

Rillana lightly smacked Molvayas on the head. “What did you call me?” she threatened.

“Sorry, my queen.” Judging by his grin, Molvayas was not sorry in the least.

Rillana shook her finger at him. “You know the rules. Queen first, Rillana only when I say you can call me Rillana. I’m sorry, he’s just… he’s so young still, and I recognize some of my twin sister’s spirit in him. He’s trouble.”

“He’ll come back a better man for it, I promise it,” Molvayas rubbed the top of his head where he’d been smacked. “And I’m sorry, I’ll be punished properly later… can I have K’yorl do it? You need to rest, being with child and all.”

“You think you can make demands now, after breaking the rules?” Rillana smirked. “But sure, K’yorl may punish you… after Nimbasir does.”

Molvayas’ grin dropped. “My queen, last time he handled the punishment, I couldn’t sit down for a week!” he complained.

“And you loved it. Now shoo. I want to rest.”

Molvayas skittered out of the room after bowing his face to the ground, and Lydia shook her head once the door slammed behind him.

“I can’t believe they willingly sign up for this game.”

Rillana laughed as she laid back down. “Lydia, the reason they married me was for the game. The minute they want it to stop, all they have to do is say so,” she said.

That was true. Lydia remembered the time Gardek had called off the game, the Duergar looked fearful for speaking out of turn. But Rillana immediately undid his bondage, told everyone to leave the room, and the next time Lydia saw him he was wrapped in a warm quilt and Rillana was stroking his beard and kissing the top of his head in a truly gentle way.

She might have only been in love with Lydia, but Rillana loved her husbands too.

End of Volume 2

Volume Three- Coming Soon <3

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #fantasy stories #short fantasy stories #fantasy comedy #dnd homebrew #goblins #short stories #spilled ink #the adventures of garl and odra manyboots

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yesiamkiwi · 4 years

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New fic: Fishbowl

Fandom: Undertale

Rating: T (rating may change)

Warnings: kidnapping, result of kidnapping. nothing violent yet

Papyrus leaps at the chance to help his father with important work, but when he arrives at his childhood house something he wasn't at all expecting is waiting for him. Torn between his morals and the want for a closer relationship with Gaster, Papyrus has to help the small mermaid living in his pool.

Chapter 1 under the cut

Also on ao3 (link in the notes)

Papyrus had never been very close with his dad. It wasn’t that he was cruel or neglectful, quite the opposite. He was well cared for, growing up in a large house with anything he could want. However, his father was very emotionally distant. Sure, if he had a problem he could go to his father, who would do his best to listen and provide feedback, but he always seemed slightly uncomfortable and out of touch with children. Which is fair, seeing as how Papyrus was an accident.

Gaster had always preferred to keep his distance from people. The one time he didn’t, he managed to get pregnant. The partner he had taken was a one time thing; his father hadn’t been interested in telling him. He carried the child to term and when Papyrus was born, he kept him still. He may not have wanted a child, but Papyrus was his. So he did love Papyrus, truly he did; parenting just didn’t come naturally to him.

Papyrus was quite lonely during his childhood, despite his father’s best efforts. He often bounced from extracurricular activity to extracurricular activity, hoping each one would bring him friends, but he had never fit in. Maybe it was his social skills. He always talked too loud, was always moving, was very blunt at times and clueless at others. Maybe it was just him, his personality. He always strove to be kind and helpful but perhaps he was too overbearing instead.

So in his adult years, when his father invited him back to his childhood home to consult on a project he was working on, he eagerly jumped on the chance. He had never been allowed into his lab as a child, too dangerous, apparently. He did know his father did very important work though. That’s why he was the Royal Scientist.

Pulling into the neatly paved driveway, Papyrus parked his red sports car, a gift from his father. He had no idea what to expect as he unlocked the front door. His father had never specified, simply stating that it was urgent.

Stepping into the foyer, he called out, receiving no reply. Moving to the intercom on the wall, he pressed the button and called again. There was no answer from the speaker, but his phone chimed with a text from his father, telling him to come out back.

The backyard was about an acre, with large trees lining the edges, perfect for climbing. There were gardens, properly maintained by the caretakers. He’d always slipped outside during nap time to watch them work, hoping to help. He was never allowed, but occasionally the gardeners took pity on him and let him sample some of the fresh veggies. The carrots were always his favorite.

Tucked into one corner of the yard was a large, above ground pool. His father was standing nearby, balancing on the ladder leading up to the water, frantically writing something down.

“Father!” Papyrus smiled, racing over to him. Gaster looked back at him, giving a small smile before turning back to his work.

“Ah, hello, son. How was the drive?”

Instead of answering, Papyrus gasped and raced over to him. His face and coat were scratched and torn. He didn't seem to be dusting anywhere, but the sight was still worrying. "What happened?!"

Again his father turned to him, a more mischievous smile on his cracked face. “Come take a look. Be careful not to get too close, though.”

Papyrus scrambled up next to his father, the ladder slightly too thin for both of them. Standing a rung lower than his father he moved to heal him but was instead directed again to the pool. He gripped the side and hesitantly peeked over, his father’s reassuring hand on the collar of his shirt.

There, at the bottom of the pool, about four feet down, was a mermaid pressed against the side of the pool, glaring up at them.

The mermaid was the skeleton kind, their magic a stunning bright cyan, matching the surrounding water. Through the sun glinting off the surface of the pool it was hard to see, but their sockets seemed large and round, white pips of magic within pointed right at them.

“...Father,” Papyrus said breathlessly, “what….. where did you find them?”

Mermaids were extremely rare, so rare in fact, that many didn’t believe they still existed. Sightings were few and far, far in between. They were supposedly a hybrid between two to three types of monsters, one of whom being a special type of fish monster that no longer existed in modern days. And to see one in his old backyard was astounding.

“I found them in the shallows off the coasts of the Ebott Seas, a few hours from here,” he said with an excited gleam in his eye - the one he always got when he was close to a breakthrough.

“Wowie!” Papyrus beamed. “How did you convince them to come with you? And what about their family!? Group? Uh, school?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” his father said simply, turning back to peer into the waters distractedly. Papyrus’ expression dropped in dawning horror as he continued. “Their pod weren’t nearby, as far as I could tell. They were sunbathing on the shore, around the back of the island where no one would see them. Well,” he laughed, as if this were all normal, “no one but me. I was very lucky to be sailing nearby at the time.”

“Father… you can’t. You can’t just kidnap people!” he exclaimed incredulously.

“I haven’t kidnapped anyone!” Dr. Gaster turned to fix him with a disappointed look. “I’m simply keeping them here until I find a way to communicate, to explain what I’m trying to accomplish. I’m certain that once they know they’ll be willing to help me.” He sighed, leaning against the rim of the pool, staring down at the mermaid. “Unfortunately I cannot communicate with them.” he smiled ruefully. “I’ve tried hands, but they don’t seem to understand. I’m afraid they’re closer to fish than skeleton.”

His father’s font was hard to understand by anyone other than a skeleton. Not to say it was impossible, but it took a lot of time and effort. It was frustrating more often than not so Dr. Gaster simply used hands with those that needed. If the mermaid didn’t understand either, their language must be completely different than skeletons now.

“So, you’d like me to try and talk to them?” Papyrus was doubtful. “Maybe a fish monster would work better?” He climbed down the ladder, stretching his legs.

“Son,” Gaster quickly followed, grasping his shoulders firmly. “You’re the only one that can do this. You have to understand how important my work is. To study a mermaid’s SOUL could progress my research in leaps and bounds. This could help so many people, Papyrus. I’m afraid others wouldn’t understand. They’d put a stop to this before I can even begin.”

Papyrus was tense underneath his hands. This just wasn’t right but looking into his father’s eyes he saw the resolve and knew he believed in what he was saying. His father dedicated the past 45 years of his life to the study of the SOUL. His goal was to find a way to bring monsters back from falling, something believed to be impossible. He knew his father truly wanted to help people, he just wasn’t sure how holding a mermaid against their will would help.

As if sensing his doubt, his father let go of his shoulders to instead grip his hands. His face grew less wild and more pleading. This was honestly the most expressive Papyrus had ever seen the man. “I know this will help in so many ways,” Gaster continued. “I just need to communicate with them. Anytime I get close they try to drown me.”

Casting a glance back at the metal side of the pool, Papyrus sighed. He supposed if they could find a way to explain to the mermaid their intentions, and the mermaid agreed to stay, there would be no harm in it. However, if it was clear they couldn’t get through to them, or they didn’t want to stay here to help. Well. Papyrus loved his father dearly and wanted to please him but. This was another monster’s life.

“Okay.” Looking back at his father he nodded resolutely. “But you need to understand. If they don’t want to be here I can’t keep them. And…” he hesitated, not wanting to upset the man who raised and loved him all these years. “I couldn’t stand for you keeping them either.”

Gaster’s mouth twitched downward but he nodded, relaxing his grip and stepping out of his space. “I understand. Thank you. Now there are a few things I should warn you about."

Standing at the edge of the ladder once again, Papyrus stared nervously into the depths. The mermaid was still resting at the bottom. Their head had been resting in their arms but as soon as they noticed him at the surface they tensed back into a defensive stance. Papyrus shuddered at the sight of their bared fangs. Sure he had a set of his own, but this monster was clearly ready to use them.

His father had also warned him about their claws, much sharper than his own, hence the scratches on his father. Physical damage posed much more of a risk than the threat of drowning. Magical was still to be questioned though, as no one knew what their abilities still entailed. Anytime someone had supposedly gotten close to one they had simply swam away.

Skeletons, luckily, were a species of monster that didn’t need much air. All SOULs needed some sort of magical charge, which carried much more easily through air than water, but depending on the species, you could stay under for quite a while. Not to say it was impossible for a normal monster to live their entire life underwater, just that it wouldn’t be a very good one, even for a fish monster. Papyrus wondered if mermaids had evolved to live completely underwater and still function normally or if they still came to the surface for air.

It was times like these Papyrus was grateful he could heal so well. He took a calming breath and without further ado, he stepped over the rim of the pool and eased himself into the water.

#undertale #ut!papyrus #ut!sans #ut!gaster #mermaid au #kiwi fic

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heatherfield · 7 years

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Secret Heart, Ch. 3

Story summary: A suspicious death finds Mr. and Mrs. Geppetto the heirs of a great fortune, but how does this join their fates with those of Ruby Lucas, a lowly orphan, Belle French, devoted daughter and sister, Mr. Gold, gentleman-turned-lawyer, and the mysterious secretary Mr. Hopper? Secrets abound in this AU take on Dickens’ “Our Mutual Friend” in Victorian London.

Characters/Pairings: Red Cricket, Rumbelle, features Granny and Geppetto, possibly others…

Rating: General

Author’s note: Shout-out to @zoe19blink for giving me the final push to finally finish this chapter! And look—I’ve finally written Rumbelle in the same scene! Interacting!

Links: FF.net or AO3.org

The biting wind cut through Remus Gold as he stepped out of the carriage. “Wait here,” he instructed the driver, turning to get his bearings in the dockside shantytown so far from civilization. He pulled the collar of his coat over his nose to guard against the stench that hung thick in the air—coming from both the river and the occupants around its shores, Remus assumed.

He started down the gravel road as he tried to remember his way to the house—if it could be called that—where he had been a few nights earlier. The daylight illuminated the poverty that had been covered by darkness before, and he muttered to himself, wondering how anyone could live in such conditions.

Better to get this over with.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. It was not required of him, to follow up with the family of the drunk who had found the Cricket body. He was working for the Cricket estate—the Geppettos, now—and cared little for the wellbeing of these people who clung to life in such a disgusting method.

Mr. Gold brushed any self-questioning thoughts aside as he climbed the rough boards to the thin “door” of the house—really just some planks barely held together on a rough hinge. He gripped his cane and tapped it on the wood.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He waited for what seemed like ages before trying again. Mid-tap, the door swung open to reveal a slim brunette in a simple dress with an apron that was wet at the knees and held together with too many patches. Her brow glistened with sweat and a few strands of hair fell in her face, but Mr. Gold’s heart stopped in his throat to see her face, before hidden by the shadows of the shack, so clearly in the overcast light from outdoors.

“M-Mr. Gold,” she stuttered and gave a quick curtsey. Remus thought he saw a look of alarm flit across her features.

Mr. Gold collected himself and nodded to the girl. “Miss French.” He realized he didn’t know her name apart from that of her father. “I—I was wondering if I might speak with you.” Her features widened in more concern and he cringed at how poorly he’d already begun. “Nothing’s wrong,” he blurted out, as if to reassure her as quickly as possible.

This was new territory for him.

“Please, come in,” she gestured inside, and as Remus gingerly stepped into the cramped quarters, he looked for a place to sit while the girl closed the door. Instantly the room became much darker, reminding him of the gloom that filled the room when he was there before.

Belle removed a pile of rags from a chair and gestured to the now-empty seat. Gold sat down, though he had to fight the urge to give it a wipe beforehand. The nervous expression on her face, however, made him wish to appear as natural as possible to alleviate any concerns of hospitality on her part. It was sweet, really, that she should be concerned about such domesticities in a hovel like this.

“Thank you,” Mr. Gold nodded as he took a biscuit she offered. He expected a dry and tough mouthful, but the small treat was surprisingly tasty. “Mmmm,” he nodded, mouth full, with more fervour.

Belle smiled as she put the plate back on the rough table, taking nothing for herself, and sat down on the cot in the corner beside him. Mr. Gold noticed the wet planks on the floor with a small bucket beside them and realized he must have interrupted her work. All things considered, the small space seemed almost homey, in a rough sort of way.

Moe French did not deserve such a daughter.

Surprised at himself for the unbidden thought, Mr. Gold shifted on the chair and returned his focus to Belle. He realized he had yet to explain himself to this creature who must be worried sick about her father.

“You must be wondering as to the reason for my visit,” he started as way of an explanation. He noticed Belle smoothing out her skirt and tucking her hair behind her ears, and a pang of guilt hit him at the abruptness of his visit. How odd—he never cared in the least before. Then again, he had never made such an unnecessary visit before, motivated by nothing but courtesy.

Belle nodded but said nothing, her eyes fixed on his as if to urge him to continue.

“After much questioning, it was decided that there was not enough evidence to support the suspicion that your father had anything to do with the murder of Mr. Jiminy Cricket,” he started, and he kept his eyes fixed on Belle’s. “I just… I wished to alleviate any concern as soon as I could, in hopes to save you unnecessary worry.”

Belle shifted in her seat, and Remus realized she did not look relieved. Surely this was good news?

“W-when do you expect my father will be released?” she asked carefully.

“By the end of the day, I expect,” Remus answered, though he couldn’t begin to guess how long the man would linger at a pub or two before coming home to his family.

Remus furrowed his brow at the lack of pleasure it seemed to give her before he caught himself. Was that why he had come? Because he wanted to see this girl light up at the good news—to have her profusely thank him for bringing such tidings?

Before he could make any awkward excuses to take his leave, the door swung open with the entrance of the scraggly youth who’d been present the night the body had been found.

“Chip!” Belle cried, jumping up and racing to her brother as Remus slowly stood with the help of his cane.

She tugged at the boy’s collar and wiped off his coat. “Chip, this is Mr. Gold, from the other night,” she explained, gesturing to him.

The dirty-blonde boy nodded with a mumbled “g’day, sir,” and Remus nodded a silent greeting in reply, feeling very out of place.

“He’s just told me that Father is coming home today,” she continued, her eyes flitting between himself and her brother. Remus thought she looked a nervous creature, her smile unable to hide whatever troubled her.

Whatever her secrets were, they were of no concern to him. “I’ll bid you good-day,” he said, making his way to the door. “Good-bye, Miss French—Master French.”

He ignored the way the lady’s small smile—genuine, this time—made his pulse quicken as he hurried down the steps and up the gravel path back to his carriage.

Ah, well. At least he was done with that part of the sordid affair, he thought to himself, wishing to put some distance between himself and the slum more quickly than his legs could carry him, eager to leave it behind.

Belle had barely closed the door before she turned to Chip, her heart racing.

“Oh, Chip, I think it’s time!” she exclaimed, rushing to the side of the cot and dropping to her knees. She tugged on a loose floorboard to reveal an opening and pulled out a round, skinny tin.

Sitting on the bed, she opened the lid and dropped the coins on to the blanket. Carefully, she counted them out before snatching them up, her pulse racing. She crossed the room and pressed them into her brother’s hand, wrapping his fingers around the coins like they were precious jewels.

“I’d hoped we’d have more time,” she tried to explain as she blinked back the tears that pricked her eyes and stung her nose. “But you’ve got to get away from here, to make a better life for yourself.” She turned her back to him and quickly wrapped some bread and cheese in one of the clean rags from the pile.

“Belle, what are you talking about? I can’t leave you—and Father—”

“You must!” she exclaimed forcefully, turning around to see the shock in her brother’s face. Her features softened and she took his hands. “Please, Chip, you must—for my sake, if not for your own. When Father gets back, he’ll still be surrounded by scandal, no matter what the police say. People talk and turn the cold shoulder. You’ll not stand a chance of a decent life unless you get away from it all, and you can’t do that when Father is here.”

With a deep breath, she turned back around and fastened the little parcel together.

“Here, take this,” she instructed, pressing the bundle into his hands. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before daring to meet her brother’s gaze.

A lump rose in her throat and she strove to continue. “Go to your headmaster. There’s enough there for lodgings until you can earn your keep. Stay with your learning, and you’ll soon be well-respected and proper,” she assured him.

Chip nodded along with her instructions. “If you’re sure.”

Belle simply nodded, her chest tight and her mouth dry. She licked her lips. “Quickly, now,” she managed to say.

He paused at the doorway, and she put her hands on his shoulder. “I love you,” she said softly before wrapping her arms tightly around him. She squeezed with all her strength, knowing that things would be vastly different between them the next time they should meet—if at all.

“Good-bye, Belle,” Chip said as they pulled apart.

Belle couldn’t resist brushing her hand across his forehead and tucking a away a stray curl. He face was still round and boyish, and she couldn’t imagine he was really old enough to deal with the world.

“And r-remember to always think well of Father, no matter what anyone says,” Belle called after him as he rushed down the steps. He lifted his hand in a wave, barely turning back, before he disappeared over the hill and up the street.

As she closed the door, Belle collapsed on the other side, finally letting the tears stream down her face.

“What do you think, Ruby dear? The calico or the muslin?”

“Hmm?” Ruby asked, blinking to focus on what Mrs. Geppetto was saying beside her.

The older woman chuckled. “I was just saying, do you think the calico fabric is nicer, or the muslin?”

“They’re both nice,” Ruby assured her, running her finger over the bolts of fabric the shopkeer displayed for them.

“Quite right,” Mrs. Gepetto agreed. “We’ll take them both,” she said to the man behind the counter.

Ruby tried not to gawk at the extravagance and nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And why not spend one’s fortune on the clothes befitting one’s new station, if one had the money to spare?

Ruby noticed a couple of middle-aged women in the store looking at ribbons a few paces away. She could hear their mutterings over the “new money” and “Mrs. So-and-so” and “who does she think she is?” It grated on Ruby and made her want to shrink down to nothing as Mrs. Geppetto’s rough accent filled the store, asking the shopkeeper to show them all the new bonnets they had in the window.

“Oh, Ruby, won’t that look splendid on you!” Mrs. Geppetto all but squealed like a schoolgirl as the shopkeeper brought them a crimson hat trimmed with scarlet ribbons and cream lace, bedecked with rosettes of a deeper shade of red and topped with three large red feathers.

“It’s… lovely,” Ruby agreed, wincing at the gaudiness of it all. Surely a couple rosettes or feathers would be nice, but it looked like the milliner was trying too hard to impress.

Ruby could hear the women beside them snickering, and the sound grated on her nerves. Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw, Ruby assured Mrs. Geppetto that she would be thrilled with such a purchase, and wouldn’t it look lovely with that particular shade of sky blue ribbon that these ladies were eyeing? She just had to have the whole spool.

With a smirk, Ruby helped Mrs. Geppetto carry out their purchases, their arms full of boxes of hats and promises of dresses to come and more blue ribbon than Ruby was sure she could use in a lifetime, but the shocked faces of those snobbish good-for-nothings made it worth it. “Good afternoon, ladies,” Ruby said in a sing-song voice, earning her a disgruntled “humph!” from the older woman as they passed.

There was something thrilling to be surrounded by such lovely boxes which declared the finery hidden within as the carriage took them home. It still felt like a dream, to pull up to such a fine house and to be helped out of the carriage like a proper lady!

Ruby carried in a few boxes—though the servants said they could help, she was more than capable of carrying her own things!—and made her way inside. “Miss Lucas!” a familiar voice called out, and Ruby almost dropped her goodies as she turned around.

Mr. Hopper rushed forward and took a box from her pile. “Please, let me help you,” he offered.

“I’m—fine, thank you,” Ruby said with a huff, trying to peer around her load without much success.

“Um, yes—I c-can see that.”

Ruby frowned. “Were you just on your way out, Mr. Hopper? Please, don’t stop on my account.” She shifted the parcels and boxes in her arms and decided that peering over them was the best course of action.

She caught Mr. Hopper’s smile that crinkled his eyes behind his spectacles.

“Actually, I was just here to see Mr. Geppetto and he invited me to stay for tea.”

Ruby bit back a retort. “Then I suppose I shall see you shortly,” she said with as much civility—if not warmth—as she could muster. “Now if you’ll be so kind as to return that box to the top, I shall carry these to my rooms.”

“O-of course,” he stuttered, carefully piling the small box on top. “You made out well today, by the looks of things.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Hopper.” She could feel his judgment at her extravagance as his gaze wandered over her armload. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped back to let her pass on her way to her apartment, and Ruby walked with her head held high—until she had to watch her feet as she made her way up the stairs.

The parcels were light, but the load was bulky and heavy, and she let out a sigh of relief to unload the boxes in her room.

She shrugged out of her jacket, unpinned her hat, and brushed out her skirt with her hands. With a quick glance in the mirror, she smoothed out her hair and pinched her cheeks.

Gaudy hat or not, she could outshine any of those horrid women’s daughters, she thought with satisfaction as she looked herself over in the large looking glass and glanced at the lovely new purchases she’d acquired—a luxury unfathomable in her past life.

So why should a lowly secretary’s opinion aggravate her so?

#rumbelle #red cricket #our mutual friend #ruby lucas #archie hopper #rumplestiltskin #what a puzzle to the rest of us is belle #victorian #19th century #secret heart #crossover #fanfiction #heather writes #heather posts #once upon a time #ouat au

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writing-dos-and-donts · 7 years

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Fantasy Friday: Chaos of Knowledge, Chapter 2

Twenty years later... The crowd moved out of the way of the man running through them. Nearly every person in Adorea knew about the Vulpine Bandit who seemed to show up once a week or so. He was a slender gentleman and moved easily around the crowd. His blonde hair moved behind him quickly as e he looked back at the man chasing after him with a large knife as he was screaming obscenities. "Get back here you thief," The stout man demanded as the weapon was swinging wildly in the air. The man frowned turning back to his path as a pair of guards turned the corner having heard the commotion taking place ahead at the end of the street. The thief stumbled as he was forced to slow himself down to avoid the pair of bronzed spears suddenly thrust in his direction. Stumbling on the cobblestone the thief ended up sliding between the guards barely managing to avoid the sharpened points. Catching his footing a few feet behind them he was at full sprint again. It wasn't meant to get this loud and he should have been in and out in a few moments. Not having no less than three men after his head. Muttering curses under his breath his bare feet hit the stone ground hard as he moved through the city. He knew he should have waited a few hours longer before heading in, but it would have been gone at that point. Looking down at the catch he smiled brightly, the mask was pristine, and he hoped it would keep its luster after this fight ended. Carved from copper it was the perfect reflection of a fox. The man he had just stolen it from meant to use it fir decoration among others similar. But he knew better, this was worth something more than just decoration. If all went well this would be part of his new ensemble, he was tired of being forced to hide his face behind a scarf and this mask for him perfect. As he ran past the center of the city he knew that the guards would be pulling more men into the search for him. As he turned the corner he was taken by the collar and his hood removed as he was thrown against the wall. The pair of vulpine ears unfolded from beneath as they turned quickly to face the man who had just assaulted him. He raised his sword quickly to the shorter man looking him hard in the eyes. But the hand against his face was hotter than he would have expected and knew the spell was prepared to brand his face if he even tried to use his weapon. "Quiet," The caster demanded shoving his hand over the thief's mouth. The heavy sound of boots ran by as he saw the men running by lead by a man quickly casting some kind of spell before them. As they disappeared the hand removed from the thief's mouth he smiled. "Sampson." He said quickly lowering the blade. "I could have made it without your help." He said as the sword was replaced in its scabbard and Nomas started towards the street. Sampson frowned pulling off his hood revealing the long black hair that hung down to his neck. A small golden crown adorned his head as he lowered his hand letting the heat radiate off of it. "No, you didn't Nomas. You know that if you get caught outside the people will start to speak. It is bad enough people know there is a thief out and about, but if they hear it is you... They'd be at the gate demanding your head." He said pulling his sibling back. "And where did you get that ridiculous thing?" He demanded with a scoff. Nomas laughed pulling the copper mask out from his cloak and offering it towards Sampson. "It's a prop," Nomas said with a smile flashing. "Keep the guards from seeing my face, thought it would preserve my anonymity." He said with a shrug. "If a guard was chasing me down one day and the next he was protecting me then he would turn me in for sure." He said with a wide smile. Nomas had nearly the same complexion as his father, a constant light tan despite the fact that little light made it through the canopy of large trees above the city. Sampson stood a moment with Nomas smiling innocently towards his slightly older brother. "Come on. And keep the mask hidden. We can't let them think I am working with you." Sampson said grabbing Nomas by the shoulder and pressing him into the street as it was starting to crowd again. It was slightly after noon and the sun was cracking its way into the large square they walked by. "You're lucky I was there. What would you have done if I hadn't known where you were planning on running?" He asked with a scowl. "I would've been fine," He promised with a frown. "Have I been caught yet?" "Before. That's the key, all it takes is you being seen once and you'll be on the chopping block within the hour." He scowled as he pressed Nomas towards the large castle in the center of the city. "You're doing this too often, I got to tell mom." Nomas stopped suddenly in his tracks. "You can't tell her." e said with panic in his voice. Most people Nomas felt he could deal with, but his mother was nothing to shake a stick at. She was quick as a whip and could hit twice and hard, "You know she's already trying to keep me in the castle as long as possible. If she finds out about... this." He said motioning towards himself. "I'll be ruined for sure." Sampson frowned forcing him to start moving again. "You should have thought harder about that before heading out here." He said pulling him through the courtyard again. "She's the only person who you listen to, and if I keep her out of this..." He sighed rubbing his temples as Nomas said with a frown. "You'll be out here again." He said looking at Nomas. They approached the large gate ahead, the signal that they were heading from the lower city to the richer center city. It was a large stone archway guarded by a group of men. Several runes glowed brightly on it meant to ward off anyone that wasn't meant to be there. The guards wore matching uniforms casually reading through papers allowing peasants and traders to do work in the higher district. The passing through was easy to notice as the surge of magic ran through them making the hair on Nomas' neck stand on end and the smell of electricity force its way into his lungs. The ground suddenly went from the quiet crunching of stepping on gravel to that of the quiet pattering of stone that lined the road. The guards didn't even take a second glance at Sampson, they knew he was the prince and any kind of spell to mimic him would have been dissolved by the wards they passed through. Nomas didn't even have to look to know what was around him. He knew the area too well. Bakeries he had ordered from, libraries he browsed, stores he had walked through a thousand times. Even the poorest families living here were well known among the city and had large amounts of money at their disposal. He knew that the road they walked lead right to the center fo the city and into the castle he and his brother were raised in. Sampson's face was hard today and Nomas cocked his head slightly trying to figure out what had happened to him, normally he was quiet when he found Nomas, subtle and kind about it, but today he was angry and ready to burst with anger. "What happened?" Nomas asked turning around to face his sibling. "I'm fine," Sampson said losing away with a frown. He was hiding something, and he knew it had to be big. "Sampson." Nomas pressed with a frown. "You know that you can talk to me without having any kind of problem. I have never spoken about anything you wanted me to keep hidden. You know that." That statement made him take a deep breath followed by a sigh. Lifting his left arm slowly Nomas saw the problem quite quickly. Most if his arm was covered in burns covering his forearm. "Lost control of my magic earlier. Mom already took a look at it and thinks I should be more careful and won't let me cast without her around for a while, at least until I can take the proper precautions." He explained with a sigh. Nomas knew exactly what he was talking about. Most of Sampson's arms were covered in tattooed runes running up and down them, meant to aid in the focusing of his magic, but clearly, a spell had backfired. "But you're alright though, right Sam?" Sam, it had always been one of Nomas' favorite things to call his sibling, mostly because it bothered him. A nod was his only reply, something was solemn and angry about his reaction though as if Nomas questioning was making him more bitter. "Sam?" "I said I'm fine." He snapped looking suddenly at him with his blue eyes flaring with anger. "I told her it was nothing but she won't let me do any of my work until I can cast my basic wards without failing. Do you know how hard that is? Five spells I need to cast perfectly, in order, with all of the movements and incantations for all of them without making a mistake." Nomas nodded slightly as he looked up at the beams of light shining through. "You did it before didn't you? It can't be that hard to do again. I'll even come help if you need it." "What do you know?" He asked with a frown. "All you need to do is swing a sword around. You don't know anything about casting a spell." Nomas' hand went by instinct to the sword on his side. A fine longsword he had wielded since he was old enough to carry it. Sampson was right, Nomas had never shown the affinity for casting spells like his brother had. Unlike nearly half of people who could do basic things like moving a pencil across a table or make a flag move, Nomas seemed to have no ability for anything magic. Rather he strove to be a warrior rather than a man of royal stature. While both were called prince in the title, Nomas was born second. He had little chance to usurp in brother even if he wanted to. Nomas looked away with a frown. "I know when you need help, Sampson. Even if you aren't asking for it." He said keeping his gaze from his brother's outburst. Sampson's face suddenly softened, setting his good hand on Nomas' shoulder he smiled. "You know that I trust you, but this is something that you would not be able to help with. It is something that would take you a lifetime to understand, even I struggle with this even with all my schooling under mother." "My work is the same." Nomas shot back. "You and I have followed different paths, but we travel them together. I know nothing of magic, I admit that. But you know nothing about swordplay, but despite that fact, we are brothers. We will always be together, No matter the distance." He said with a frown. "You know that." Sampson just laughed slightly. "Stop acting like you're so philosophical. You know you will run out of brain power." He said pressing his brother forward through the last gate to the castle. "Mom'll be pissed if we don't get back quickly." He said pressing the both of them passed the guards. There were more here, like always, and they were better armed than those who protected the guard upper-class people in the city. Nomas pulled away now and hurried ahead passed his brother as they approached the gate. "Then let's hurry." He said with a smile. "I'd rather not deal with her yelling at me for being out and being late." He said with a smile as he ran past a few people coming towards the main hall. "Plus she might be busy with other stuff and we'll avoid her for the moment." *** Her calmness scared Nomas more than anything. She sat across from him reading through some kind of report with a firm frown planted on her face. She spoke little and that was what made Nomas know there was something worse coming. Adjusting her papers she looked up at Nomas with her dark blue eyes locking with his. They always seemed to pierce Nomas soul, "You were chased in broad daylight by the blacksmith." She said with a scowl, Nomas wasn't sure if this was meant to be a statement or a question so he simply nodded. "That is rather bold compared to your other... escapades." She said pausing a moment as she tried to find the proper word. "Explain to me again why you were out." "I was bored," Nomas answered quickly looking own at his feet. "There wasn't much going on here in regards to training so I went out looking for something to do." He said with a shrug. "Something to do?" She asked with a frown. "You think there is nothing for us to do here?" Viola asked with a frown. "Your brother nearly destroyed his arm and burnt the castle down. And you would have been nowhere to be accounted for. We would have been fighting our way through a crumbling building looking for a man who wasn't even in the same part of the city because he needed something to do." She said as her quill scratched along the table. "Your boredom could have cost us lives. Let alone if you were found out there." "But I wasn't," Nomas said taking a step forward with his gaze returning to his mother again. The room was small, nothing more than a study his mother used for herself. It only had one window behind her desk and the walls were covered to the ceiling with tall bookshelves made of dark oak wood matching the desk. The desk was in the center of the room, nearly as long as Nomas was tall, and was stacked high with paper across nearly the whole surface. "But you could have." The queen shouted suddenly as she stood in anger. Several books flew off their shelves and crashed upon the floor. "That's the point that keeps escaping you. Just because nothing happened doesn't mean it couldn't have." She said with the rune on her left arm glowing a light green. "You know that if something happens you and Sampson are not ready for such a burden. Even if you were expected to carry it together." Nomas nodded looking down quickly. While it was not often that his mother scolded him, being outside was something that he refused to press back on. Nomas never understood why though, his tail was nothing more than a natural occurrence, something he had no control over. Why was he forced to hide something he had no way of changing? "I understand that." Nomas managed as he looked to her again. "You know I don't do well in confined spaces. You said yourself that dad suffered from the same thing." "You're not your father." She snapped again as the quill was ripped suddenly in half and the ceiling rattled loudly. "Your father damaged many people in his presence here. Including you and I. Don't act like this is something to be taken lightly. He is a man who should be hunted down for his sins, and you are nothing more than a child of circumstances." She said before dropping into her seat as she sunk her head into her hands. "Go, there is nothing more I wish to say at the moment." She said with a frown motioning him from her room. Nomas turned away quickly as he hurried towards the door, just outside Sampson came up offering him a smile. "That went better than normal." He said with a sigh as he leaned against the wall. "She didn't even punish you." The other shook his head though. "That's what worried me the most. You and I haven't had any kind of punishment recently. You think it's because were coming of age?" He asked with a frown. The age of Twenty was an important transition around Adorea. It was considered the age of adulthood. Apprentices were severed from their masters. Children allowed to leave their families. Pages advanced to knights. And Nomas and Sampson would be allowed to be leaders. "I don't know." He said with a sigh. "I would imagine she would be cracking down on us at this point. Making sure everything is going right and we are going to be ready." Sampson laughed slightly standing again. "Come on, I'm sure you're fine," Sampson said with a shrug. "We should get out to the courtyard. I want to show you the new spell I was working on. You know, the one." He said showing the still wrapped arm. "I got it right, even with the misfire." Nomas shook his head. "You know mom will kill you if you do it again. She is angry enough with you throwing it off the first time. If she caught you." Sampson paused a moment realizing the irony he was being hammered against. "She won't." He said with a smile. "I've already got the guards the leave the area," Sampson said with a smirk. "You know I'm not a fool. 'Preparation is half of everything'." He said waving his hand a few times. "'That's what separates us from animals'. That's what mom always says." Nomas shook his head with a laugh, sometimes it was hard to deny Sampson's enthusiasm, and his skill. "Okay then 'Master Wizard'. Show me what you can do then." He said with a smirk as they started walking down to the large courtyard outside of the castle. A small forge adorned the far corner but it was currently empty. Sampson frowned grabbing the large book from his bag as he jogged quickly towards the center. "You'll want to stand back. Once I get it up and moving I can't stop it suddenly. It takes a while to die back down." He said as he began flipping through the pages. Nomas could see the scribblings and diagrams that he had written in making and adjusting spells. He smiled. He brother had always been quite a scholar. Though he had trouble getting his thoughts together, once he did though, he was one of the most powerful sorcerers in all of Adorea. Being the son of Viola, after all, both of them were born some of the most powerful casters in the land. Nomas himself though, he hadn't gained the gift of manipulating the stream. Casting a spell required a person to take in large amounts of the stream, a natural flowing energy a caster focused into an incantation or enchantment. People in passing called it mana and all forms of magic revolved around controlling and manifesting it. It was hard for someone to begin casting a spell and even then it nearly no one could do anything more than starting a fire or gathering a jug full of water. Nomas did know a bit about how it was done. Sampson stood in the center of the courtyard as he removed his shirt. The scars were for more severe than he had thought originally. Most of his back was burnt up in his last attempt, a side effect on losing grasp on mana. Any mana he had called forth was ripped violently from the user's body often times leaving burns, scars, cut, bruises, and the like from the sudden burst of energy. Sampson struck a heavy stance, low to the ground. An earthen spell was all Nomas could surmise about the way he stood. Normally a spell using the ground required an Earthen base or material like a stone, While something avian would need light footing or something light like a feather. HE smiled watching his brother as he began the second art of the spell. Normally this would have a verbal component about it such as a chant or a focus but Sampson and his mother had a unique way of casting their spells. The runes across Sampson's body glowed with a dull brown color as small pebbles around the area began to lift off the ground. Nomas nodded, Earth, just as he thought. The ground moved slowly around Sampson as the spells advanced. It went from a solid state beginning to slowly liquefy and shift wildly around him. Lifting and dropping in a slow mechanical movement Sampson began to command it with his movements. It divided and dipped and rose as Sampson moved around, his arms swaying to an unknown beat and the ground moving as he did. After a few moments, the ground focused in a single area and began to lift into the air as a long cylinder lifted almost ten feet into the air. It moved slowly before beginning to form a face into the side. The face was scaled, and angry looking. A dragon? Sampson was more creative than that. Bit sometimes he just didn't try. Nomas shook his head with a smile as he looked at him forming it better, slowly forming the neck and body carved into the ground. It slowly began to take shape and Nomas began to smile again watching it all come together. But as Sampson was finishing up the last of the second wing before nearly the entire thing exploded outward leaving a large crater with a smoldering rock in the center. Both boys moved back in a panicked movement as Nomas went to cover his brother. "What was going on?" He asked with a frown. "Did you do something wrong?" He asked with a frown watching the stone smoldering and burning the ground around it. "I didn't do this." He said loudly looking at it and then towards the city. "What am I supposed to..." His voice fell short as another crash just outside the courtyard. The pair frowned looking at one another before they were both sprinting towards the door. Sampson threw it open as Nomas drew his blade. The four-foot blade dancing in his hand as they charged out looking at the second rock burning loudly before them. "What did you do Sampson?" He asked with a frown. "If mom sees this she's going to kill us both." He said looking to his brother who was starting to panic. "That wasn't me." He said pointing out towards the city. there were at least another dozen of them elsewhere in the city and several more coming quickly from the trees, "Oh, my word." The brother muttered in amazement as he looked to Nomas. "We're under attack." He said turning a heel back towards the castle. Nomas was shocked as he blinked a few times. "We need to warn mom."

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stevetervet · 7 years

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Tour de NZ

You could swallow a thesaurus and still not find the words to describe New Zealand.

Tucked away in the bottom right-hand corner of the world map, so many hours ahead that it almost creeps into yesterday, NZ isn’t somewhere you ‘pass through’ - concerted effort is required to make it this far. But it’s worth it.

Our chosen mode of transport during a 12-day stay in the South Island was a camper van, to be collected from and returned to a depot in Christchurch. Having decided to crack on early (a 3am taxi from our base in Melbourne’s eastern suburbs to the airport), we had reasonable expectations of making decent headway north from Christchurch before nightfall or, at least, Ivy’s tea time. Not so.

Preliminary paperwork filled out at the hire company base, we stepped outside into teeming rain where a female employee was waiting to tell us everything we needed to know about the van. Once she had located where it actually was in the car park, her show-round got off to a shaky start when the pull-out step wouldn’t pull out from underneath the side of the van. “I just don’t think I’m strong enough,” she surmised. “You’ll just have to take a big step up.” Advising her that we wouldn’t, we yanked the step out ourselves and climbed aboard. “Where’s the TV remote?” we queried. “Just have a good look around” came the reply. Now fully aware our guide was anything but an expert, we strove to push through the rest of the formalities as quickly as possible only for the lady in question to ramble on and on. “Where’s the nearest supermarket?” I said, trying to make it clear we’d heard enough and were ready to go. “Where are you heading?” she asked. “Towards Nelson” we said, Nelson being the northernmost city in the South Island. “So you’re going south then?” came the infuriatingly dopey response.

But the van proved far more reliable than its owners and once we hit the road, our mood quickly improved. Major road closures, brought about by the recent earthquake, kept us away from the east coast but we trundled inland as far as Hanmer Springs. At the end of such a long first day on tour and having driven through torrential rain in near-darkness on some twisty roads to get there, the campsite felt like an oasis in the desert, if you’ll excuse the rather confused simile.

There was nothing much to see in Murchison the following day but with a pie shop and children’s playground among limited amenities, it served its purpose as a halfway stop for lunch. Repeated travel sickness on Ivy’s part secured her a seat in the front with me for the rest of the road trip. As we approached our family Christmas base a few kilometres north of Motueka, the Takaka Hill Highway really put my concentration and the van’s engine to the test with a series of sharp bends on a serious incline. With more than 300km already under our belts for the day, patience began to wear thin when we missed the turning and had to keep climbing until there was a piece of road wide enough in which to turn the van round and head back down again.

Scroll down to the previous blog to find out what happened next in what could loosely termed a Christmas Special.

After two-and-a-half days spent with the family, we took one of them - Rachel’s mum - with us for the remainder of the journey. Back through Murchison we drove before veering west and dropping anchor in a near-flooded Westport. The weather no doubt distorted our opinion of the campsite although we did find what I can only assume must be the world’s smallest pizza shop after setting the van up for the evening. The topping combination of chicken pieces and apricot jam worked better than I expected.

As we powered down the west coast the following morning it felt like the tour had really begun. The road was spectacular in places, taking us to within a few metres of the ocean with big waves crashing on the rocks and bringing the windscreen wipers into play. Tourists were beginning to assemble in large numbers at Punakaiki when we pulled in mid-morning. Camera phones were going off everywhere as we trod the walkways of Pancake Rocks, a rugged formation which reminded me of the Twelve Apostles along the Great Ocean Road back in Australia. It seemed rude to visit such a place and not try the pancakes in the cafe over the road for morning tea and the catering matched the views. More great roads carried us into Greymouth, the west coast’s largest town, although we only stayed long enough to do a big shop at the supermarket and watch a train pull into the station - the latter making Ivy’s day. Having planned to spend the night in Harihari, we decided to carry on further down the coast as we’d made good time (and Harihari looked like one of the most boring places on earth). Instead, we booked into a leafy site at Franz Josef Glacier which, as the name suggests, marked the start of the South Island’s stunning alpine region.

Snow-capped mountains were standing tall against blue skies at the start of our next day together. On the road towards Fox Glacier we slowed to a crawl around some of the acute mountain bends but that only gave us more time to admire the incredible vistas. After stopping for a walk around Lake Matheson, we continued on this exquisite stretch of road, crossing dozens of single-lane bridges over turquoise rivers which splashed along shallow rocky beds. And when we left the flat sections behind and began climbing again, the van’s big diesel engine performed heroically all the way to Haast.

Cooking our own meals inside the van had been going well but we enquired upon arrival in Haast where we might find a chip shop for that evening’s meal. The campsite owner said he knew of one place in the area but that it closed at 4pm. This didn’t sit right with me and, sure enough, further investigation allayed our fears with the news that opening hours extended much longer. Food was 35 minutes away in Jackson Bay at the bizarre-looking ‘Cray Pot’ - a former pie cart painted bright orange and situated on the water’s edge with mountains towering above us on three sides and the sea disappearing over the horizon on the other. The food was decent, if a little pricey, but I suppose we were paying for the experience - which was certainly unique.

On the way back to Haast for the night we stopped to refuel the van. The petrol station was closed although an after-hours box on the wall allowed you to pre-pay by card. However, none of ours seemed to work and a queue began to form behind us while a tired Ivy fretted in the front seat. A family at the pump next to us could see we were struggling and offered to help. I handed the man $60 in cash and his wife used her card to authorise the payment. Diesel finally flowed from the pump to our relief when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The woman handed me back the $60, wished us compliments of the season and climbed into her car with a smile. Such a humbling gesture left us almost speechless as the good samaritans disappeared down the road. Thank you.

With a full tank beneath us, the wonderful route south continued to unfold as we skirted Lake Wanaka before making a pit stop in Wanaka itself. Opting to snub the main highway from there, we tackled the more direct mountain route to Arrowtown - and what an inspired decision it turned out to be. Offering access to the snowfields in winter, the Crown Range Road, even out of season, is quite simply the most incredible stretch of road I’ve ever driven. The camper van was pushed to its limit as we relentlessly climbed higher and higher but the best was still to come as we went over the top and began to descend. Carefully edging down the side of the mountain, we hit a series of seven consecutive hairpin bends which forced us almost to a stop on each occasion. The van wriggled around each one and I allowed myself a flashing glance over the precipice, where solid ground fell away and the valley floor was laid out like a tablecloth hundreds of metres below. It was breath-taking, a scene somewhere between cycling’s Tour de France and the final moments of The Italian Job.

The campsite at Arrowtown was over-crowded. It had a different feel to most of the other places we’d stayed, with most people on lengthy holidays in tents and caravans as opposed to transient types like us in mobile homes. The night of New Year’s Eve predictably yielded little sleep with the site raucous until gone 2am but the day, which we spent in Queenstown, was memorable for positive reasons. Our boat trip across the magnificent Lake Wakatipu was complimented by a surprisingly good farm visit with vast mountains, once again, flanking us on all sides. “Let’s not mention the England rugby team” laughed the Kiwi farm guide when he heard our accents, but with a record-equalling 14 consecutive wins behind us, I was quite happy to ride the banter bus.

Queenstown, the ‘adventure capital of the world’ according to the PR people who try to flog you expensive excursion tickets, certainly offers plenty of thrill-seeking experiences and the town was particularly busy given the date. Our celebrations got no wilder than posh ice creams in a gelateria and an early barbecue back at the site.

The lack of sleep clearly impaired my decision-making as we prepared to make a prompt start on New Year’s Day. Choosing to refill the water tank with our neighbour’s hose backfired when the hose got stuck in the side of our van and said neighbour emerged earlier than I had anticipated. As Rachel chatted to the lady, playing for time, I resorted to brute force and yanked the hose head out, taking a chunk out of my index finger in the process.

We finally left the mountains behind and headed south-east through Roxburgh and other such tiny settlements before making the long, straight climb into Dunedin. Our campsite was not far from the beach but although the sun, sand and surf lifesavers lent the place a rather Australian feel, the water temperature was more Bognor than Bondi.

On the way north we broke the journey in Oamaru, another coastal town with a quaint Victorian shopping precinct and nearby penguin colony. We went for a look but the penguins were out.

By now the road was faster, if less interesting, and carried us inland to Geraldine - a stop recommended by someone we’d met at an earlier campsite. The site itself was tidy but even better were the food and drink options just around the corner, underlining Geraldine’s reputation as something of a regional gourmet centre. The zingy pasta sauce from Barker’s significantly enhanced the evening meal.

The run into Christchurch was about as straight and flat as you could get. Grey skies and drizzle matched the mood in the city; although they’ve worked hard to get up and running again after the earthquakes, it still looks like a building site and feels quite depressing. To see the grand old cathedral deserted and propped up behind wooden boards was pretty sad.

After a night at Spencer Beach the van handover went smoothly with the only problem being I left my sunglasses in the cab and didn’t realise until several hours later.

We flew to the North Island and stepped off the plane in Tauranga with the wind swirling across the runway and threatening to blow us off the portable steps. Many hours spent playing Tetris as a youngster prepared me for the next challenge - squeezing four suitcases and countless smaller bags into a car which also needed to carry five passengers to our base for the next week on the west side of town.

After all that time on the road, it was nice to unpack and settle down, although we continued to explore. Hunting for a parking spot in Mount Maunganui reminded me of beach holidays back home, as did the subsequent digging of deep holes in the sand until the tide came in to fill them.

We were chased by aggressive geese at Katikati Bird Gardens, marvelled at the different international sections in Hamilton Gardens and walked a volcanic valley near Rotorua. Here, too, we crossed rope bridges high among the giant Redwood trees and visited a ‘living Maori village’ at Whakarewarewa (that’s the shortened version, believe it or not). About 70 people live in the village, which remains open to the public - for a fee - even when funerals and other private events are taking place. We learnt plenty while we were there although our guide prickled whenever people asked questions she didn’t like. Sorry, but you can’t have it both ways - if you’re going to sell your soul to the tourist, don’t take their money and take offence.

But although the hot mud and geothermal pools of Whakarewarewa left me cold, this journey delivered far more highs than lows. The country’s landscapes are fabulously diverse and the people incredibly friendly (including of course the family who hosted us on both islands).

Ever thought of visiting this corner of the globe? Do it. Because despite making headlines for negative reasons in recent years, the huge number of foreign accents we heard on our travels prove that New Zealand’s natural beauty has a much greater reach than her natural disasters.

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