Chapter 11 Nine

Mainly deals with the events of Digory Trench * The Digory Trench was a deep cut between two chalk hills, tall and verdant, covered with a thin layer of red earth and green grass, barely enough soil for trees to grow on.From a distance the trench looked like a white chalk line drawn on a green velvet board.Local legend has it that Diggory dug the incision in a single day and night, using a shovel that was once a sword, and was made by Wayland.Forged from a molten sword during Smith's journey from Stonewall to Elven Wonderland.Some also said that it was originally the Sword of Fire, others that it was the Excalibur of Balmonk; but no one dared to claim to know who Digory really was, and all this may be but nonsense.All in all, the road to Stonewall crosses the Diggory moat, whether on foot or by vehicle of any kind, with chalk rising like thick white walls and hills like giant beds green pillows, raised above these walls.

①Annotation: Flamberge comes from the French Flambayonet, which means flame, and it is a leftover sword with a wavy blade like a flame. ②Annotation: The Excalibur held by the hero Siegfried in the German folk epic "Nibelungenlied".With this sword, he defeated the dragon and won the treasure, and made the heroine Brunhild the wife of King Gunther. There was something in the middle of the trench, just off the passage, which at first glance looked like little more than a pile of dry wood and branches.A closer look revealed that it was not entirely natural, it was somewhere between a small hut and a large wooden tent, with a hole in the top, and now and then gray smoke could be seen curling up.

The man in black had been spying on the pile of sticks as closely as he could for two days, looking down from the top of the hill far above, and getting closer when he got the chance.He was sure that an old woman lived in the hut.She had no companions, no apparent activity, and spent her days stopping every lone traveler and every vehicle that passed through the ditch. She seemed harmless, but Young Moose didn't rely on appearances to become the only surviving direct male member of the family.And he was sure it was the old woman who had cut Bermus' throat. The duties of vengeance demand a life for a life; these duties do not specify the method of taking a life.Then, according to his personality, Young Moose is a natural master of poisoning.Swords, beatings, and trapping were all well and good to a certain extent, but mixing a vial of clear, odorless, tasteless liquid into food was Young Moose's forte.

It's a pity that the old woman seems to only eat what she collects and catches.He conceived of a steaming pie filled with ripe apples and deadly poisonous berries at the old woman's door, but quickly dismissed the impossibility.He contemplated rolling down a large chalk boulder from the hill above the old woman's head and hitting it on her little house, but he was not sure of hitting her with the boulder.He wished he was more of a magician; he had a certain pinpointing ability that showed up irregularly among family members.Over the years, he had learned and stolen, and performed a few tricks, but when he needed to summon the flood, the evening wind, or the lightning, none of them stood in front of him.So Moose the Young kept watch over his would-be victim all the time, around the clock, like a cat guarding a mouse-hole.

It was past midnight, and the moon was dim, and Moose finally tiptoed to the door of the hut made of branches.He held the hearth of the stove in one hand, and in the other a book of love poems and a blackbird's nest in which were some fir-nuts.From the belt hangs oak sticks topped with brass nails.He listened carefully at the door, only hearing regular breathing, and sometimes talking in sleep.His eyes were used to the darkness, and the house stood out against the chalky formations of the moat.He walked quietly to the other side of the house, still seeing the door. First, he tore off the pages of the poetry collection, crumpled each poem into balls or paper twists, and stuffed them along the ground level between the branches and walls of the small hut.On these pages he placed fir berries.Then he opened the hearth, took a handful of waxed linen from the lid with his knife, and laid it in the glowing coals of the hearth.When the pieces of cloth were hot, he put them on the paper twists and fir berries, and blew gently on the flickering yellow flames until the woodpile was also ablaze.He tore some dry branches from the nest, and threw them into the small fire, which, crackling in the night, gradually grew stronger and stronger.The dry branches on the wall slowly emitted smoke, and Young Moose had to hold back his cough.Then the branches caught fire, and Moose smiled.

Young Moose returned to the door of the hut and raised the stick high.His reasoning is: If the witch is burned with the house, my mission will be completed; otherwise, she will smell the smoke, wake up panicked, and run out of the house. Hit her on the head, smashed her head off before she could speak.When she dies, I will have my revenge. It was a good plan, said Shuthys with the crackle of dry wood, and once she had been slain, Young Moose would then be able to take back the source of Stormhold's power. We'll see.Bermus said.His voice was the distant cry of a nocturnal bird. Tongues of fire licked the cabin, and bright orange flames gradually spread from both sides of the cabin.No one came out of the cabin door.Soon, this place became a purgatory, and Moose was forced to retreat several steps by the heat.His smile became bigger and more complacent, and the wooden stick in his hand was also put down.

A sharp pain came from his heel.When he turned around, he saw a small snake with bright eyes, which was crimson under the scorching firelight.The snake's fangs dug deep into the heels of his leather boots.He threw the stick hard at the snake, but the little creature retreated from his heels, and at great speed, crouched and disappeared behind a large chalk boulder. The pain in his heel subsided. (In case of a snakebite,) thought Young Moose, (the leather will absorb most of the venom. I should tie my legs up at the calf, take off my boots, and make a cross-shaped incision where the bite was. Then I'll suck the venom out of the snake.) So he thought, sitting on a large chalk boulder in the firelight and tugging at his boots.Boots won't come off.His foot was numb and he knew it would soon swell. (Then I should cut the boots open,) he thought.He raised his feet to thigh height; for a moment he thought the world went dark, and then saw the bonfire-like flames that illuminated the trench disappear.He just felt cold to the bone.

how?There was a voice behind him, as soft as a silk choker, as sweet as poisoned candy.Do you think you can keep warm by burning my hut?Are you waiting at the door trying to figure out if this fire is my heart? Young Moose wanted to answer her, but the muscles in his jaw were tense, and his teeth were clenched.His heart beat like a snare drum in his chest, the rhythm was not as steady as usual, but wild and irregular.He felt every artery and vein in his body pump fire through the bones, and if it wasn't ice pumping through the veins, it was fire.He couldn't tell the difference. An old woman walked into his sight. She looked like a woman who lived in a log cabin, but she was too old.Young Moose tried to blink so that his aching eyes could see clearly, but he forgot how to blink and couldn't close them.

You should be ashamed, said the old woman, for trying to set fire to the poor old mother who lives alone.If it had not been for the kind help of her little friend, the old mother would have been at the mercy of every prodigal son who passed by. She picked something up from the chalk, wrapped it around her wrist, and walked back to the cabin.Miraculously the cabin didn't burn down, or else recovered.Youmus didn't know which one it was, and he didn't care. His heart throbbed in his chest, changing its beating rhythm.If he could scream, he would.Dawn came before the pain was over.His six older brothers raised their voices to welcome Young Moose to their ranks.

Young Moose looked down one last time, at the twisted and still warm form in which he had once lived, and the eyes in it.Then he turned away. We have no brothers to seek revenge on her, he said in the early morning curlew cry, and none of us will be Lords of Stormhold.Let's see what else we can do. After he finished speaking, there was not even a ghost in that place. ★ The sun was high in the sky that day, and Mrs Schmeler's caravan was plodding slowly and laboriously across the chalky gap in Diggory's ditch. Mrs. Schmeler noticed the soot-blackened wooden shed by the roadside, and as she approached, a hunchbacked old woman in a faded scarlet robe waved to her from the roadside.The old woman's hair was as white as snow, her skin was wrinkled, and she was blind in one eye.

Good day, sister.What happened to your house?Madame Schmeler asked. The young people of today.The poor old woman never hurt anyone, and someone thought it was some kind of amusing thing to set fire to her house.Well, he learned his lesson quickly. Well, Mrs. Schmeler said, they're always learning.And never know how to appreciate the lessons we have given. You are absolutely right.The woman in the faded scarlet robe said, then tell me, my dear.Who are you traveling with today? Well, Mrs. Schmeler said arrogantly, it has nothing to do with you.You mind your own business, and I thank you. Who is on the road with you?Tell me the truth, or I will tell the big eagle to bite you to pieces, and hang your remaining corpse deep underground. Who are you to threaten me like this? The old woman stared up at Mrs. Schmeler with one normal eye and one cloudy eye.I know you, Deadwater Salle.No need for those damn lips of yours.Who is traveling with you? Whether she wanted to say it or not, Frau Schmeler felt the words rush from her mouth.There were two caravan mules, myself, a maid whom I turned into a big bird, and a young man who had been turned into a dormouse. Who else?what else? There are no people or things anymore.I swear by sisterhood. The woman on the side of the road pouted.Then you go, stop talking nonsense.she said. Mrs. Schmeler clicked her tongue, shook the reins, and the mule began to trot. In the dark caravan, Xing Xing slept on a borrowed cot, not knowing how close she was to death, let alone how close she was to escaping it. When they were out of sight of the log cabin and the dead white Diggory moat, the exotic bird fluttered up to the perch, turned its head and sang and sang loudly and joyously, until Mrs. Smeller told him that if he didn't quiet down, he would die. would have wrung its stupid arm, and it stopped.Even at that time, in the quiet and dark caravan, this beautiful bird cooed triumphantly, trembling and frightened, and even uttered a cry like a osprey at one point. ★ The sun was low in the western sky as they approached Stonewall.The sun shone in their eyes, whitening them and turning their world to liquid gold.The sky, trees, bushes, and even the path itself turn gold in the light of the setting sun. Mrs. Schmeler reined in the mule and stopped on the pasture where the booth was planned to be set up.She untied the two mules from the wagon, took them to the stream, and tied them under a tree.The mule drank eagerly and intently. All over the pasture, other businesses and tourists set up stalls, pitch tents and hang drapes from the trees.The air of anticipation is like the golden rays of the setting sun, affecting everyone and everything. Frau Schmeler got into the wagon and took the cage off the chain.She took the cage to the pasture and set it on a raised grass knoll.She opened the cage door and picked out the sleeping dormouse with her bony fingers.Come out.she says.The Dormouse rubbed its wet black eyes with its front paws and blinked in the fading daylight. The witch reached into her apron and brought out a daffodil made of glass.She touched Tristan's head with the flower. Tristan blinked lazily and yawned.He ran a hand through his disobedient brown hair, and looked down at the Witch with terrible anger in his eyes.Why, you wicked old ewe he began. Shut your stupid mouth, shrieked Mrs. Schmeler, and I brought you here safe and healthy, in the same state I met you.I fed and housed you, and if it doesn't suit your heart or meet your expectations, oh, what difference does it make to me?Well, before I turn you into a wriggling worm and bite off your head (if that's not your tail), get out of here!go!Hush!Hush! Tristan counted to ten and walked away roughly.After walking for a while, he stopped by a grove and waited for the stars.She limped down the ladder beside the caravan to Tristan. how are youWhen the stars approached, he cared sincerely. Well, thank you, said the star, she did not torture me.I don't think she really had the slightest idea that I was in the car.Isn't that kind of weird? Frau Schmeler now put the bird in front of her.She touched the feathers on the bird's head with the glass flower, and it quickly transformed into a young woman, not much older than Tristan, with curly black hair and furred ears like a cat's.She glanced at Tristan, and although Tristan couldn't recall where he'd seen those violet eyes, they seemed very familiar. This, then, was what the bird really looked like, said Yvanie, and she was a good companion on the road.Then Star realized that it was true that the bird had become a woman, but that the silver chain that restrained the bird had not disappeared, for the chain shone brightly around her wrists and ankles.Evanie pointed it out to Tristan. Yes, Tristan said, I saw it.It was horrible.But I'm not sure how we can help. Together they walked across the pasture toward the gate in the stone wall.We should visit my parents first, Tristan said, because they must miss me as much as I miss them. (Though, to be honest, Tristan didn't think much about his parents during the trip.) Then we're off to see Victoria.Forrest, and then Tristan shut up with that.In his present conception, a star is not a thing that can be passed from one hand to another, but a real person, and in all respects it is not a thing at all.Therefore, he could no longer be content with his old thoughts, and wanted to give the stars to Victoria.forest.However, Victoria.Forrest is still the woman he loved. He made up his mind to go ahead, and now he was going to take Yvani to town and deal with the various things that were going to happen.He felt refreshed, that his time as the Dormouse was only a remnant of a dream in his mind, as if he had just taken a nap in front of the kitchen fire and was now sane again.The best ale I can remember from Mr. Pommus, it's almost like it's in your mouth.Though he was startled guiltily at the realization that he had forgotten the color of Victoria's eyes. Tristan and Yvani were across the meadow, looking down at the Stonewall gate.The sun was bright and red, half hidden behind the roofs of Stonewall.Star hesitated. Do you really want to do this?She asked Tristan, I was very worried. Take it easy, said Tristan, although it's okay if you're nervous; my stomach churned like I'd swallowed a hundred butterflies.When you sit in my mother's living room and drink her tea, not really tea, no, you can take a few sips and you'll feel better.Well, I swear, for such a nice guest, and to welcome my son home, my mother will bring out the best china.Tristan found her hand and squeezed it tightly to reassure her. ③Annotation: There are butterflies in the stomach in English, which means nausea and vomiting due to anxiety and nervousness. She looked at Tristan, smiling softly and sadly.Wherever you go she whispers. The young man and the falling star approached the gate of the stone wall hand in hand.