The mouse that went to the cat for love

Where are you going, Manné?

Your past, you can never leave it, you can never leave your troubles behind!

magicmystery
Der Zauberberg of N. F. Manné, that magical mystery

To old Giyani town he went, seeking that magical mystery, hoping to touch it, so intimately. But who touched who? Yes, the mountain, that old magic, felt his beating heart and spoke (not words, but understood still): “Oh, child. What history beats in your veins! And what veins they are; what rivers, what streams – such current, such electricity!

Manné was touched, and forever changed. He asked himself, queried the brain within. Such questions he posed: “I am Niels Frederique. But who are you? You stare with eyes unopened, stare from glass. Your eyes are like glass, in your eyes all is glass: the world entire. Who are you?”

He did not find answers in old Giyani town. But questions – oh – questions he found. Manné was but a mouse, ancient mysterie a great lion yet to pounce. Our philosopher, our thinker of the godly, was soon to fall. How heavy a load he now bore, how great a fall he approached …

Wolfshund, Vogel and Hâd – A Merry Crew

I even have a nephew named Jürgen Wolfshund. It just makes sense.

– Wolfshund the Elder

David Vogel had friends and enemies alike. Dearest to him was Atómový Hâd, the immigrant pervert. They enjoyed themselves greatly, always at the expense of others.

There is perhaps no need for this introductory information. To conclude: Vogel and his band were a merry crew, connected by common goals. So how did this dire wolf of the eastern provinces come to join them? And how could it end so badly? Yes, there is a Wolfshund in our midst.

“Let us drink and be merry”, sang Vogel and Wolfshund. Hâd was occupied with thoughts disturbed. Little did they know that they together sang the song to end the Earths. This is the fate of any crew, be they ever so joyful, who beckon greater spirits from their hiding, who tempt with jealous tongues…

danger drinks

Manné, the tumbling rock

Mountain crumbling
Tumbling rock, tumulus in tumble

Manné has been sleeping, since the cold captured him, a late Autumn night.  The sympathies were many, but now I am alone. Ice and Fire knows nothing of his passing, yet the same sun shines on them. Does she shine on you, my closest friend?

She wanted to change the world, change it all, completely…

Manné, have you fallen?

I turn at night. Questions without answers. Answers without questions. Will he wake? Will he rise again? Will he, in the warmth of spring, again be my tumbling rock?

From Jean’s diary, 1913

Väinämöinen, brother of Krim

Finnish representation of Krim Jacob?
Finnish representation of Krim Jacob?

Vaka vanha Väinämöinen,  peer to Klever Krimälainen?

Moomin? How did you feel? ‘Twas a land of dismal cold, of a long winter night, of deep, deep Krim.

Who art thou, Klever Krimälainen? Of beasts, of hidden kowledge, of foul Ratty Ruotsi…

Majahi, na Majahi! Majahi ha-mare Livare!

And he did see that old spirit above shallow billows; that Krim, that Ghost… Strike thy bone-harp, bearded fellow, sing to all Northland, sing songs for all to hear: The Krim-song of Krimean saga!

Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (Chapter 1)

Being Chapter 1 from Part 3 of "The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
This excerpt translated from German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Ingo

Suum cuique

Despite his family name suggesting Swiss or Austrian origin, Ingo Schweitzer had always been (and ever would be) a Prussian in soul and heart. Indeed, his body was cut from that firm and strictly northern stock that in more ancient times so terrorized mighty Rom herself.

A weathered, leather-bound notebook (which I acquired in what is likely the muskiest of all bookstores in temperate Europa) bears his name on the first, second and final page. Its narrative ends on these words:

I have traveled the ever-expanding recesses of this state since its modern inception and never have I felt more lost than I am now.

How does it begin, you ask? In time you will know, but for now we must step even further back and examine the somewhat peculiar circumstances that would later propel Mister Schweitzer onto his unfortunate wanderings. To properly admire a painting, I find, one should always start with the frame.

Ingo suffered through an unusually slow and long adolescence in an unimportant town of exactly average size. At 17, he refused to follow his father Aloys (as Aloys had once followed his own father, Johann, and as Johann had followed his father, Martin, and so on) in the moderately prosperous family business of tailoring and cobbling. Instead, Ingo opted to join the local regiment in the city of Elbing. Aloys passed away two years later; with him crumbled also the family business and, ultimately, his stubborn branch of the long Schweitzer lineage. Content with being a disappointment to his kin, Ingo never returned to his hometown, instead focusing all his youth and effort into a budding military career. Ingo stood tall, a young man in flower, but all that shines must dull in time.

At the age of 21, Ingo was expelled from the Akademie for reasons that have never have become quite clear. Explanations and rumors among his acquaintances varied wildly: boredom, involvement in some petty crime, even an unhealthy interest in the occult.  Some suggested the expulsion as something of a mutual agreement between the senior staff of the Akademie and Ingo himself.  No matter the motivations, we know that in the very same year, one Ingo Jakovius Blestemat Sweitser purchased the estate Mare Gramada near the city Targu Mures (now in Hungary [Translators note:  Romania since the end of the second world war]) from its previous owner, Igal Migdala, head of the recently impoverished Migdala family.

The local populace did not at all welcome its new citizen (“Lord”, some mumbled bitterly). Tensions were high in Europe at that time, as they are today, and a German controlling one of the primary estates of the region was not at all agreeable to the stubborn inhabitants of the Mures valley. Claims were made, some say fabricated,  that the land was stolen from Migdala, or that the initial negotiations had involved some kind of trickery, and even that Blestemat had the aid of supernatural  forces and intended to use Mare Gramada in ceremonies of sacrifices to the heathen deities of the old north; the mighty sky-gods once worshipped in his homeland, long before the Baltic crusades: Nerthus, Wodanaz, Kurim Jakos, and that Ingo was loyal to Widewuto, mythic king  of the Pomesanian clans

Widewuto and crew

While wildly imaginative and greatly exaggerated, we can not deny that in these rumors there is a kernel of truth, albeit obscure, an almond enshrined or entombed in protective bark-like layers. Among the vague scribblings of the first pages of his notebook we find a prayer of invitation in old-Sudovian, beckoning Kurim Jakos and his host to visit the world of mortals again:

Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe
Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe Kurim Jacove

We will find that even though Kurim might not have visited ours, this plane of base physicality, Ingo certainly did visit Kurim’s. For better or worse, for doom or salvation, Ingo was to be a man both possessed and possessing.

Raude, the traveling man.

Gimø tavern
Gudmestad water and the old Gimø Tavern, painted by Raude (1846)

Back in 1846, a traveler came to the Gudmestad farm, Krim Raude was his name. He had traveled far and wide, from lands not known to the simple folk of Gudmestad.

In those days, Old Salte was the patriarch of Gudmestad farm, and he welcomed Raude with open arms. Long nights and deep conversations ensued, Raude and Salte discussed many themes and topics.  Although their lives had differed, old Salte and Raude formed a close friendship

The feasts at the local tavern were many, for it was good times when Raude visited. Roast of lamb, fermented trout, herring,  potatoes, turnip stew and much more were served. For beverage they had wonderful, cold, fresh water. Late at night, Salte and the other old men would form a ring, figling, singing and dancing. They performed many traditional songs and melodies, while the women and children were free to help them self to Raudes almonds, a strange treat from a foreign land.

I Gimø så figla me te’ jaoen
I Gimø e figlå mi gådden

extract from traditional song

But all things must end and Raude had to continue his journey, and he left after many joyful days. On his last day he presented Salte of a painting depicting the Gimø lake and tavern Raude had gown so fond of.

I here present Raudes last words to his close friend, Salte.

Salte, my eternal friend, I must leave you now and travel far North and East, to those dictum borderlands. For I have heard tidings of deep sorrow and despair, the apocryphal logic has shown itself. But do not feel saddened , for I will always remember your songs and melodies with great joy.

Still to this day, the people of Gimø celebrate Raudefest every month. Thus, I sincerely believe that a part of Raude’s soul is still present at Gudmestad and Gimø, even though he left many years ago…

Written on the behalf of TMHS by Sølve Gudmestad, descendant of Salte Gudmestad

On such a Krimean night

Krymska Cabin
I can almost see that wild Krim on the forest trail!

Jean, Jean! What a lovely night, I can almost see that wild Krim on the forest trail!

Is he like the Manné Rock, ever falling, tumbling? Or is he of the deep, deep mountain? I have seen him, Jean. I saw him! You need only count to three, and with every step a statement is stated, yet Krim is never sated! He is eating the world, Jean … Gnaws on our fundament, our testament.

East and West, all-encompassing! Such compassion! Tell not my brother of my dreams. Oh, Krim, Allfather of the Allforest …

Yours always,
Hermione Lynn Ploppel

Johann and I

We sailed the seas, Johann and I.
The sails ripped, in the middle of the storm.
The heavens opened, our hopes fell.
No fish, no food, but company.
Johann and I.

Into the the darkness we gazed, Johann and I.
Spoke of drought and the almonds demise.
Spoke in the storm of our future travels.
A bird landed, it was calm.
We saluted death!
Johann and I.

– unknown origin, early 1900s
some scholars indicate Jakko Krimälainen as the original author