[sp=http://player.ku6.com/refer/E_p5knFuaJrN_yVH/v.swf]
The linen blanket that covers Brynhild has long been categorized as 'worn-out', yet she is unwilling to discard it. Constant washing, drying, mending - the repeated cycle of these manual tasks has transformed the blanket to the point where its original form is hardly recognizable.
This worn-out, vintage piece that would have surely been discarded by an ordinary human family possesses an unknown magical effect.
Whenever Brynhild drapes this blanket over herself, she is always able to fall asleep peacefully, never once disturbed by a nightmare.
Why does it have such a miraculous effect?
This question was asked openly to Brynhild. After a gentle smile, as if hiding some deep secret, she gave her answer.
That answer left the inquirer burdened with guilt, resulting in several days of oppressive silence.
'The blanket smells like Mother.'
The fathers of Brynhild and Freya died protecting their village from the dangerous beasts when the girls were very young. After hearing the tragic news, their mother, from overexerting herself and illness, passed away. It was their grandfather, Emil, who took on the responsibility of raising the two sisters.
At that time, Brynhild was six years old, Freya was one.
No matter how tattered and patched it may be, whenever the blanket is draped over her, she can still vaguely sense her mother's warmth. This unique, floral smell that fills her nostrils, her worn-out body relaxes, as the blanket appears to separate her from all the aches of hunger and cold, inviting Brynhild into the realm of dreams.
Now, the blanket's magical effect seems to have ebbed away. The girl is bound by restlessness, and an inexplicable excitement prevent her from falling asleep.
"Still unable to sleep."
She tried to close her eyes, but ended up reopening them helplessly. Counting sheep was futile, and trying to sterilize her brain, enter a state of mindlessness – none of it worked. Sighing out of frustration, she wrapped the linen blanket around herself and cuddled against the wall. She embraced her bent legs with both arms, burying her beautiful face into her knees. All she could see were the tips of her toes, the straw from her mattress, and the dark floor. After gazing mindlessly at the confined scenery in her line of sight, her lips moved unconsciously, and a murmur of uncertainty slipped out.
"Revolution...Ah…"
The root cause of the vexation, the reason for insomnia, is this word.
The fundamental transformation, aiming to remove all hindrances and promote the leap from the old to the new - such is the definition of a revolution.
However, theories often remain theoretical. No matter how eloquent the words sound, they cannot make up for the harsh reality.
Betting all of herself, the lives of all her clansmen, including the entire future of the 'Wisdom Species', the elf clan, sounds full of courage and resolution on the surface. But even if she stakes everything, it won't cause more than a tiny ripple in the eyes of her enemies.
A beggar throwing a gold coin to uphold his dignity at a noble? A moment of righteous impulse might win some applause, but not much more. There are indeed countless tales of the weak challenging the strong and emerging victorious, full of encouragement and inspiration. But the harsh truth is, the strong always prey on the weak. The primary narrative of the world is the crushing of those stupid challengers who dare to offend the powerful. The inspirational tales represent only a minority.
The situation would not be much better for the elf clan. On the contrary, even the most important thing - 'hope', has a bigger chance of being lost. If they fail, the 'Wisdom Species' or 'Elves', who were once renowned in the past, will disappear from the world completely.
As if elves never existed in the world, leaving no trace behind.
Usually at this point in their thoughts, they would sigh and give up on the 'revolution' – a choice filled with beautiful imagination but with implementation difficulties beyond comprehension.
Brynhild didn't let her thinking stop there. Living with closed thoughts and numb emotions could be easy. There would be nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. Life would undoubtedly be relaxing and enjoyable. But she had no intentions to savor this 'joy' of being neither dead nor alive, teetering on the brink of annihilation.
She must think, then, find a way out.
She has no more expectations for the current rules of the world, let alone the fantasy that those who dominate the world would change. The desperate elves, who are in a hellish situation, have nothing left for the greedy to suck on, except their flesh and blood. The discovery and development of the gold mine, originally intended to improve their living conditions, were known by the human aristocrats and the Church. Those bastards who are more brutal and greedy than the dangerous beasts will not let it go – even if they just lost 500 cavalrymen.
A new battle is imminent, bloodshed and conflict can break out at any time, perhaps in the next moment, the terrifying sound of alarm arrows will pierce through the silent night.
Though the challenge is great, the elves have nowhere to retreat, their backs against Niflheim.
Apart from the revolution, apart from picking up weapons to fight, what other options are there?
In any case, besides life, there is nothing left to lose. So what's the big deal about staking one's life to revolutionize the world?
Freed from the shackles of fear and anxiety, the restlessness tormenting Brynhild seems to dissipate somewhat.
But not completely, as there are still doubts.
That is - how to carry out the revolution?
Experience in covert activities does not mean understanding how to start a revolution. The elves, who have never seen a pig run nor tasted its trotters, are completely clueless about inciting a violent revolution. They will find it hard to shoulder this heavy responsibility on their own.
The situation is unfavorable from the get-go, a single misstep could lead to irreparable consequences.
What does he plan to do?
Could she really… entrust the fate of her clan to those slender hands?
The image of his confident smile and beckoning hand appeared before her eyes, the residual excitement swelling once more, a burning sensation surging to her head.
Maybe… his words could truly create a miracle?
Killing the pursuing beasts, healing her from poison, annihilating 500 cavalry, creating pits in the wilderness, and making new-styled pottery.
The realm that has been deemed "impossible" had been repeatedly broken through by the unbelievable power and wisdom of that boy.
Miracles created by strength rather than luck always flashed around the black-haired boy.
"Siegfried...Li Lin?"
His gentle and handsome features, his unyielding confidence, and his calm smile seemed to merge into a much clearer image. The girl's restlessness finally faded. She lay back on the bed, wrapping her body tightly with the linen blanket along with a faint sense of excitement and anticipation. Her eyes closed beneath long eyelashes, a shy smile still held on her face.
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"The tea leaves are not very good, so don't mind them."
A new blue-edged teacup filled with a light red semi-transparent drink was handed out. With a generous "Please enjoy" gesture, the guests carefully took the cup.
Whether it is as poor as it's said, the guests had never tasted such a drink before. In Niflheim, tea leaves are an undeniable luxury.
A guest, sitting straight, copies the tent owner's pose to grasp the teacup and slowly brings the tea to his lips, sipping it carefully. First attempts to imitate can result in discomfort and stiffness, so the movements are kept as slow and small as possible. If the actions or noises were bigger, it might be considered rude and cause unnecessary laughter.
"...So bitter."
Another guest who gulped down the unfamiliar drink recklessly showed a pained expression, making continuous reaction of discomfort, which made the onlookers can't help but chuckle. If the tent owner being sarcastic, perhaps he would describe it as certain animals sticking out tongue to dissipate body heat in the hot summer.
"Sorry, I didn't know Mr. Thor doesn't appreciate the original flavor. Next time, I'll make amends with lemon tea. I have no sugar or lemon at the moment, so I can only postpone it."
Once the tepid water was hastily refilled, and the polite words were spoken, Thor had already finished his second cup. After doing all these things and going back to his seat, Li Lin started to look at the guests with interest.
Thor, who calms down after drinking a glass of cold water and relaxes his expression;
Tyr, who imitates his tea-drinking pose and looks calm, his face reveals nothing about what he's thinking. Only his tense shoulders show that he's not calm inside.
I won't mention the frank Thor for now, Tyr wouldn't come to this tent just to sip some tea or learn tea ceremonies.
He doesn't have that luxury, nor the environment to spare. He must be here for something very important and confidential.
It's too obvious; Li Lin doesn't need to guess much to know about it.
Being honest is a concise and efficient way to start a conversation. Most young people who dislike ambiguity tend to open this way. It can be said to be the most effective way for young people to talk.
Efficiency first is Li Lin's principles when dealing with things.
"The tea is finished. Shall we move on to some serious topics? Hmm...right. Let us talk about the 'revolution,' shall we?"
As the playful words fell, Thor reached for his waist. Tyr, who sat still, had undisguised passion in his eyes.
"Young man"
The unspoken evaluation is neutral, seen by onlookers with a hint of disparagement.
Biologically speaking, Li Lin is in the age group called the "young," his comments have a problem with position, he should feel the parapraxis.
Absolutely rational thinking has no logical problems in the emotional aspect. Age problem does not affect the unique observation point that he does not consider himself as a "human," even a "living being."
No matter how great the blood-filled aspirations, the teenagers who only see the dark side of society and the world, the angry youth who acts as a suicide bomber for one's resentment or a certain empty promise are all young people. From the perspective of the passionate young, their point of view will never fit with the cold-blooded point of view that values "plans" and "missions" as priorities, it's normal for them to disparage each other.
Tyr is an outstanding young elf who fits some of the rumors. Analyzing the contact data since meeting can lead to a good conclusion of "having experienced a lot of situations and battles, his mind is calm, and his thoughts are clear and agile," with additional criticism of "being limited by the closed environment, lacking a broad vision, and lacking experience in dealing with people."
No matter how excellent, Tyr is still a young elf with shortcomings. For those thoughts he never expressed, Li Lin could easily grasp.
Ideals, ambition, yearning, vigor, boldness.
These are all thoughts that can be used.
The conclusion drawn from the analysis of the cases in the database is not sarcastic; "use" has no definite definition and does not necessarily have to be unidirectional.
Just like the invitation to Brynhild.
The hand that gave the miracles and opportunities were not only an invitation to the individual called "Brynhild," but also to Tyr who was lurking in the darkness, to other elves marveled at the sprouting wheat in the terraced fields and the beautiful porcelain fresh from the kiln, to the Emil clan leader who kept observing quietly, and to all the elves of this village.
Irresistible sweet temptations, as irresistible as the nectar secreted by the larvae of Lepidoptera to the ants.
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PS:Continuing to provide MV service for readers, and received the contract which means will officially switch to 'A' sign status next week. And lastly... the cold is getting worse, my cough produces red phlegm... must see the doctor tomorrow and can only update this much today, and will talk about the rest after returning from the hospital tomorrow.