Hoi hoi, dear friends, Valtharix is with you!
You all probably know Tolkien's book The Hobbit, and you've probably watched the movie. Personally, I'm a fan of this wonderful Cinematic universe, and I like the Lord of the Rings even more than the Hobbit, and today I decided to draw a map of middle-earth from the Lord of the Rings. Today I will tell you how I did it and what I got in the end. Have fun reading!
In general, I chose the most realistic map of middle-earth. I had already drawn a map from the Hobbit universe, but it was much simpler, and I had quite a long job ahead of me.
This is the map I decided to draw.
It took a long time to draw, especially since I had only one pencil at my disposal. The work was laborious, as I had to draw small details, mountains and paths. I also often confused letters with geographical objects, and in the end I gave up on the inscriptions, wrote only the largest and most important ones. There were really a lot of small marks, and I often got lost and forgot to draw an object, but in the end I got something.:
It's not exactly beautiful, but there is some result)
I wanted my map to be as realistic and sample-like as possible, so I had to depict the aging effect (paper yellowing). I decided to try to do this using tea leaves, although I wasn't sure what would happen because the tea leaves were quite pale in color. It didn't work out very well, but there was another stage ahead)
As I said, the tea leaves were too pale
Since I couldn't make the paper old enough, I decided to add something else on my own - to burn the paper a little. Of course, some places were burned more than I thought, but it was still cool.:
It turned out more or less, plus I found a darker brew and adjusted the map.
* * *
Well, anyway, as far as I'm concerned, normis, I also hung this map on my wall). Well, I say goodbye to you, until the new post!
I have received a letter from Kevin. Yes, that Kevin. The one who single-handedly took down the Wet Bandits with a tarantula and a prayer.
He's apparently grown up, goes to book festivals, watches Spanish films, and asks very thoughtful questions about my reading habits.
If you don't know who Kevin is (first of all, how?!) but fine, check the test below. I'll wait.
Anyway, I've received the letter. Here's a fragment — just a fragment, because I'm not a monster who posts private correspondence online. It would be very rude to read someone else's letters in full and that stuff... Even if that someone is Kevin McCallister.
One... two... TEN!!!
So, here is the part of it:
"…Last week I went to a book festival. It was fantastic! We spent two hours looking through new books and talking to authors. What is the last book you’ve read? What books do you have to read for your literature classes? How often do you spend time reading a book for pleasure?
I saw an interesting film in Spanish last week…"
I have a guess what film you've watched
Kevin has clearly grown up since I last saw him (it never ceases to amaze me). No mention of tarantulas. No paint cans. No talks about burglars. Just culture, books, and cinema. Respect.
He had never written to me before, but I had to answer, because obviously, ignoring a childhood icon is not an option.
My answer looked something like this:
Not this
"Hi Kevin,
Thanks for your letter! I’m glad you're having fun there. I recently went to a book festival too. It was located on Red Square (because why not).
The last book I’ve read was “The Red Necklace” by Sally Gardner. It’s an English novel about the fall of the Bastille. You have to read it, because I want to discuss this book with someone wise. For my literature classes I have to read lots of books. For example, “Oblomov” by Goncharov. It’s... umm... an interesting book, one of my favorites... I read two hours a day, I guess. I want to spend more time reading books for pleasure, but I can’t because of studying.
What is the title of the film? Who is the film director? Why did you watch it in Spanish? Say hi to Fuller for me. Keep in touch. Don't get robbed!
Bye for now,
I"
Full of Pepsi
And that's it. That's the whole tragedy in three acts.
If only you knew how exhausting exam preparation is — maybe you'd understand why I almost replied with just "KEVIN!"
But I stayed civil. I asked about his film. I sent regards to Fuller. I am a hero.
Kevin doesn't need to know that I wrote this at 2AM, running on caffeine and regret, while Oblomov judged me from my bookshelf.
Let him think I'm a well-adjusted person who casually discusses revolutions between study sessions (it may be true).
Run like a wind!
And now seriously. Who writes letters anymore? Kevin, it's 2026. Send a voice message like a normal person!
That's all!
Have you ever read "The Red Necklace"?3
Part III — and we're back in the Shire. This time, let's look deeper: not just into the geography of the country, but into specific events that turned everything upside down.
The first event I want to talk about in more detail is Bilbo and Frodo's birthday, September the 22nd. Bilbo was 111 years old, and Frodo was 33 (the age of majority for hobbits). The two of them turned 144 years old, exactly the same age as the invited guests. One, if I may use the expression, Gross (it was not customary to consider people as a Gross). Some of the guests were even offended, realizing that they were invited only for the sake of even counting. "One Gross, ugh, how rude..." but let's move on...
Happy birthday, Bilbo Baggins!
The birthday party venue is located south of the Bilbo's front door. Tents were pitched and pavilions were set up there. A passage was cut through the thicket from the side of the road and a large white gate was built.
Preparations for the celebration began in advance. Bilbo invited foreign craftsmen to prepare the celebration. One of the locals grumbled: "Some strangers are warming their hands, and local craftsmen are sitting around," but soon orders for various dishes, drinks and luxuries began pouring out of the Bag End - for everything that was sold in Hobbiton and in general in Shire.
And now, the map. Let's see exactly where the celebration unfolded. Here is a large tree, and tents and pavilions have been set up around it, in the open space south of Bag End.
The place was chosen wisely: it was spacious enough for one and a half hundred guests, there was enough shade for those who were tired of the September sun, there were few trees to set off fireworks and close enough to the house so that Bilbo could disappear at the right moment. The roads and trails are clearly visible on the map, and looking at them, you can guess exactly where the passage was cut.
If you still haven't found the venue for the celebration, look for a hint: find the Bag-End, then draw a straight line down until you hit a large tree. The space around it is the territory of the party.
The second event is only in the book. A year before the Party, Merry accidentally saw something he shouldn't have seen.:
"One day, a year before the Party, I happened to be walking along the road, when I saw Bilbo ahead. Suddenly in the distance the Sackville-Bagginses appeared, coming towards us. Bilbo slowed down, and then hey presto! he vanished. I was so startled that I hardly had the wits to hide myself in a more ordinary fashion; but I got through the hedge and walked along the field inside. I was peeping through into the road, after the S.-B.s had passed, and was looking straight at Bilbo when he suddenly reappeared. I caught a glint of gold as he put something back in his trouser-pocket".
It is not known which road it happened on. Merry did not say. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't remember. But the fact remains that somewhere here, among the hobbits' roads was Bilbo's first downfall with the Ring in front of a witness.
It must have happened somewhere near the Bag End, or not?
The area of Hobbitania is 18,000 mi². A spacious country for small people. For understanding: this is slightly larger than Denmark and Estonia, but smaller than Slovakia and the Dominican Republic. An entire country, on the map of Middle-earth — a modest corner in the northwest.
SAVE YOURSELF, WHO CAN!!!
Few people know, but the Shire is a multinational state. There are 3 peoples (3 breeds of hobbits) living on the territory of Shire. You can learn more about these peoples in my test "What kind of Hobbit are you?"
Have you learned anything new about the Shire?2
In the northwest of Middle-earth, far from worries and battles, lies Shire. At one time, its eastern border was the Brandywine River, but later the hobbits expanded their possessions.
Frodo's parents, Drogo and Primula, drowned in this river. Hobbits are still debating exactly how this could have happened. Some say that they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight, and it was Drogo's weight as sunk the boat. Others say that Primula pushed Drogo in, and he pulled her in after him. The truth is simple: boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit still without looking further for the cause of trouble.
Look up and to the left.
The Shire was divided into four quarters, the Farthings already referred to, North, South, East, and West. And these again each into a number of folklands, which still bore the names of some of the old leading families.
Forty leagues Shire stretched from the Far Downs to the Brandywine Bridge, and fifty from the northern moors to the marshes in the south.
This map shows Hobbiton, the Brandywine Bridge, the roads, and a lot of interesting things. Words are superfluous here. It's better to just look at the map:
Look at the map!
The origin of some hobbit surnames is connected with geography. For example, Sam's surname Gamgee is derived from the village name Gamwich. It can be concluded that Sam's first ancestors lived in this village.
The name Merry Brandybuck is directly related to the Brandyduim River. And not just the last name. Unlike most Hobbits, Merry was a good swimmer and knew how to handle a boat. Therefore, when Lord Celeborn presented the Fellowship with a boat in Lorien and mentioned everyone except Hobbits as skilled rowers, Merry could not stand it and protested: "We live on the shore of Brandywine, and for us a boat is not a mad horse, as for other Hobbits."
Let's move on
Gandalf's route to Bag End can be represented something like this: The East Road, the crossing of the Brandywine Bridge, the turnoff to Hobbiton — and he is already knocking on Bilbo's round door. You can see all the roads in the map (red color).
However, this is not only Gandalf's path. If you scroll back the route, you'll get the road that Bilbo took from Bag End, and later Frodo and Sam. And vice versa: if you reverse the direction, it's Gandalf's path again, only this time from Bag End. In short, we have before us the most optimal route from the hobbit's house towards the Bree and vice versa — no matter who is on the way: a wizard or a hobbit with a staff and a pot.
The Shire is the beginning and the end of the journey. Sweet home, always calm and peaceful, it would seem. But no. In the finale of book "The Lord of the Rings", the hobbits return to the Shire and see a terrible picture: their native land has been invaded by Sauron's half-killed henchmen. They have to win it back. So peaceful Shire is also the place of the last battle.
That's all!
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it bagan.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say.
Good morning!
What should I tell you about in Part III?2
Hello! I wanna share my poems with u. !ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE!
"Pikuco"
In a quiet corner of the web's vast sea,
Where Pikuko shines with pages, a hundred to see,
Each post, a soul's bright spark, gathered with care,
Each test, a challenge to curiosity, beyond compare.
Here themes clash in a rhythm of contests so keen,
Where lines contend for the best spot, a vibrant scene,
And prizes await victors in battles of verse and playful jest,
Each match a creative montage, a delightful, charming test.
A special virtual vibe here does surround,
Where dreams and laughter meet, on common ground,
And I found friends – warm, sincere, like kin so true,
Who'll lend a hand and warm my soul, seeing me through.
To the admin, a bow, and kindness's bright gleam,
For sleepless nights' work, for code and ideas' dream,
For in each update, love and beauty reside,
For Pikuko guards us, a light in the dark, our guide.
Oh, posts so bright, that set our hearts aflame,
Oh, tests so bold, that old times reclaim,
Oh, tournaments, where talent shines so clear,
In every click, persistence and passion appear.
May this corner of inspiration continue to grow,
May everyone find joy, support, and light, you know,
Here we are united in creation, laughter, and our quest,
And may friendship forever be a promise, put to the test.
A heartfelt thanks to all who stand by,
For your soulful response, your warmth, reaching high,
Pikuco – our home, our virtual garden so grand –
And I thank you all, from the depths of my heart and hand!
"Anya"
Anya, my dear, my own,
You're like the sun in skies so high,
With beauty, you have brightly shone,
And light up worlds within my eye.
You're kind, like a bright ray of light,
Your laughter brings my soul delight,
Like a song, like summer's might,
Like a tale in silence, pure and bright.
Ilya, though not a poet's art,
You are his dream, his guiding star,
For him, you are the whole world's heart,
His love, forever, near and far.
Anya, you are so tender, sweet,
Like dawn's first blush, a gentle hue,
You're funny, magical, complete,
An answer for millennia, true.
You're friend, you're strength, you're my support,
Like an angel walking on the ground,
With you, no pain, no harsh retort,
You're happiness in every day found.
Though poems may not be penned for you,
You're worthy of them, always so,
May Ilya one day hear it too,
How beautiful you are, like stars aglow.
Anya, know, you're from above,
A miracle, a cherished dream,
You're beautiful, my dearest love,
You are love, you are kindness' gleam!
"Dear Raisa"
Raisa, our future screen star,
Happy B-day! May life be without a flaw,
Success and cash, fewer "buts" and "ifs,"
Add wisdom, though you're past your childhood shifts.
Fourteen you are, be bright, a vibrant spark!
(My first poem. It was written in 2022)
"Winter beach and we"
A beautiful season has now begun,
But only a spoonful of snow has run.
A magical picture Christmas has brought,
With gifts for us all, so eagerly sought.
I personally dream of a place with you,
Where our thoughts were pure,
And our hearts were true.
The seas, the forests, the skies, all obeyed,
It seems there, my love, our affection displayed.
Monkeys were climbing on palm trees so high,
Circling between our embraces, nearby.
The sun was shining, the wind kissed your hair,
You showed me this world, beyond all compare!
Thanks for the winter, thanks for the bliss!
"Summer"
Summer in the heart, in colors bright,
The sun shines, like a fairy tale's light.
A warm breeze whispers, soft and low,
All around, life's boundless flow.
Golden beaches beckon near,
Waves in dance, a gentle cheer.
The sky, blue as the ocean deep,
Holds dreams where vast horizons sleep.
Laughter rings in fields of green,
Scent of herbs and love unseen.
The forest calls to shaded cool,
Where lazy drops like jewels rule.
Summer's time for inspiration,
Joy and light, pure elation.
Each moment, a priceless gift,
Summer's feast, a constant lift!
"Sunny Dima"
Hey, sunny Dima,
You're like the air, I really need ya.
Happy Birthday! May you shine bright in every way.
I wish you stacks of cash, my friend,
And villages, without an end.
Good health and joy, a happy ride,
May troubles rarely come inside.
So, cheers to you, it's party time,
Too bad no tenth grade, what a crime!
"Ulyana"
Ulyana, my friend, a true music fan,
Happy birthday to you, from the heart, if you can!
Catch your good fortune, like a perfume's sweet trace,
May happiness and cash arrive, at a rapid pace!
Though gummies you favor, it's true,
A dumpling you'll buy, for me and for you!
Keep solving your puzzles, with all of your might,
Be bright as a star, and stubborn, like a ram, shining so bright!
We absolutely adore you,
And will never forget you!
"We've met again"
We've met again, my dear,
But does it mean I'm truly here?
And now you stand before my sight:
Impolite, yet so right!
Words would be needless now,
A mix of feelings, I avow.
You do not love me, it is true,
Hate me, yet draw me to you...
But still, my love I bring,
And blush before you, trembling.
Remember laughter, light and free?
You pulled me from the dark for me.
I write again... it's time to cease,
And let this foolish notion peace.
"First date with you"
This first meeting, I foresee,
Will but bring more grief to me.
Like a tempest, it will wake,
And my inner calm will break.
Your laughter, like the spring's soft call,
But a barrier holds you thrall.
Each gaze, a dagger, sharp and keen,
Yet I'm drawn to what's unseen.
You ignite, a vibrant blaze,
But my spirit's lost in haze. I endeavor to discern,
But to lose you, I would yearn.
This first rendezvous, a fray,
I'm the captive, you hold sway.
Though misfortunes may appear,
I'll be with you, holding dear.
"To a friend"
You're the coolest, that's a fact,
With you, there's always fun, laughter, contact.
You're a friend who makes me dream,
And brightens every day, it would seem.
Your laughter's like the sun, it warms my soul,
With you, no troubles take their toll.
You're strong, smart, always at your best,
And in our friendship, happiness is blessed.
You'll lift me up if I should fall,
Together, we can conquer all.
You're an example, true to yourself you stay,
With you, no years can fade away.
Thank you for being you, my shining light,
With you, each moment feels so right.
You're a friend worth more than any prize,
With you, I'm happy, this joy I realize!
"Do you remember when we walked under the moon?"
Beneath the moon, do you recall our walk?
Was destiny involved in our talk?
We laughed and chatted, without end,
Or was it just a game, my friend?
Your emerald eyes, I still can see,
But mine you've lost, it seems to me.
Your golden hair, a curly grace,
And your sweet voice, in time and space.
Beneath the moon, do you recall our walk?
Was destiny involved in our talk?
Our hands held tight, we walked along,
You saw me home, where I belong.
I thought it love, a feeling true,
But it was just my blood that flew,
Within my veins, like ash it turned.
"Goodbye, we won't see each other again" (my favorite poem)
Farewell, we'll meet no more, it's true,
Though hope of meeting still reminds of you.
Again I'll join the crowd, a lonely soul,
To miss your sight, beyond my own control.
No love, no warmth, for me to ever gain;
You were my eyes' delight, now only pain.
You seemed an angel, guardian of my way!
But dreams you shatter, turning night to day.
I love your laugh, your gaze so dear to me,
My love, I'm proud of what you used to be!
So handsome, caring, smart, a perfect blend...
Let's part in peace, without a bitter end?
Brave, unique, and kind, you held me fast,
Your perfect charm, a spell that's meant to last.
Farewell, we'll meet no more, it's true,
Though hope of meeting still reminds of you...
"Bright yellow sunset"
A bright yellow sunset o'er the expanse,
Like a flame that ignited the sky.
It dances, a spark in the fire's trance,
And calls us away, where dreams lie.
The heavens whisper the stars' soft tune,
Where dreams in harmony come alive.
There, where wind, like a silken cocoon,
Through silent souls does swiftly thrive.
Bright yellow, a crown of the sun,
Embraces the fields and the plains.
It's an artist, whose work is now done,
Hiding the day's end behind the scenes.
In tune with the breath of the grass,
This evening, a farewell song it seems.
A secret that falls, destined to last,
Forever original, in our dreams.
The sky, a mirror of worlds untold,
Where dreams, like comets, brightly gleam.
And in the radiance of hues so bold,
The bright yellow sunset fades, a dying dream.
* * *
That's all! Thank u for reading! 💕
Do u like poems?4
"Geniuses Are Trending" are posts dedicated to brilliant minds who perceived the absurd with such crystal clarity, it was like they had 4K vision.
Today, we're focusing on Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol. The writer who demonstrated: if life is... strange, you can at least find humor in it.
He was born in 1809. Initially, he was just an ordinary guy. But then, suddenly, he was describing evil spirits as if they were his next-door neighbor from the first floor.
Gogol saw people for what they truly were... just people. And that was so unsettling, it had to be covered up with humor. He was in Petersburg, watching, thinking, and then he started writing "The Government Inspector." It was like he just flipped the "stand-up switch" – and went for it!
The Government Inspector, first and foremost! Panic erupts as soon as the word "audit" is mentioned. The play's officials are exactly like schoolchildren, pleading, "Can we redo our homework?"
Secondly, "Dead Souls"! Its protagonist, Chichikov, purchases deceased peasants to project an image of greater wealth. These... nineteenth-century machinations.
Thirdly, "Viy"! Love, the undead, and a very sleepless night. A horror marathon without a subscription to online cinemas.
And "The Nose," of course! A man loses his nose, and the nose... goes off and makes a career of its own! That's not just a story; it's a metaphor for sudden dismissal.
* * *
Gogol took the absurd and turned it into classics. It's like modern memes being printed in books with golden edges.
Yet, he harbored his own dark perfectionist. Paranoia plus being incredibly demanding equaled a writer with a fire in his soul. And sometimes... with fire in his hands. Indeed, he incinerated the sequel to "Dead Souls." Because if you're going to be a perfectionist, you have to see it through to the bitter end.
Gogol's career was much like his plots: amusing, bizarre... and then a sudden, tragic twist. He passed away early, yet he left behind so many unanswered questions that fan theories could easily sustain three seasons of a great show.
It's laughter amidst terror. It's the mystical shining through everyday life. And it's a writer who taught us the main lesson: if reality is absurd... harness it in your creativity.
* * *
Thanks for reading the posts. Don't lose your mind... or your schnoz.
Which of Gogol's works are most memorable to you?1
Geralt is a witcher, that is, the result of magical mutations, intensive training and many years of training. This determines his full strength and capabilities: improved speed, reflexes, endurance, sensitivity, and regeneration. The Witcher is able to withstand loads that are fatal to an ordinary person, as well as use combat potions and simple magical signs that strengthen him in battle.
Geralt's fan art for the first part of the game, as for me, is the closest to the books.
Bonhart is a human being. But at the same time, a man pushed to the limit of what is possible. He's big, physically strong, dangerous, and extremely skilled. According to the books, he hunted humans and swordsmen for decades, developing a style based on cruelty, instincts, reading the enemy and the absence of moral restrictions. His ability to play on fears, psychologically suppress and break the will makes him a particularly dangerous opponent.
Bonart's fan art
In terms of physical strength, Geralt surpasses any ordinary person. Witcher mutations give him strength and reactions that even the best swordsman cannot achieve. His movements are faster, more precise and more effective than those of a human, no matter how he trains.
Bonhart is the maximum of human potential. He is very strong, but has no supernatural advantages. However, he skillfully compensates for this with intelligence, cunning and technique.
Geralt is stronger and faster in biology and mutation. Bonhart is just a man. 2 points for Geralt, 1 point for Bonart.
Art Bonarta from the game "Gwent"
Bonart is a killer of people, and Geralt is mostly a monster hunter. In a duel with humans, the witcher is helped by his technique, but Bonhart has repeatedly proved that he is a master of swordsmanship with humans. I give 2 points to Bonart and 1 point to Geralt.
Bonhart in the damned series "The Witcher" from Netflix
Witchers have accelerated regeneration and resilience. Geralt can withstand injuries that would stop an ordinary person right away. Potions additionally strengthen the body, even if only for a short time.
Bonhart is incredibly resilient for humans, but still limited by physiology. He can fight for a long time, but he won't recover as quickly as the witcher.
Geralt has the advantage here. 2 points for Geralt.
Pin by Nora on the witcher
If we talk about the purely human factor, it is he who makes Bonart scarier. He:
He doesn't just kill, he breaks. Geralt, on the other hand, often fights "honestly" and with restraint, which can be his weakness in a duel with a man of Bonart's level. 2 Bonarte points.
The Witcher Geralt of Rivia, as I understand the art from the 2nd part of the game
An analysis of the battles of both characters shows that:
Fan community experts often say:
It is the combination of brutality, experience, and psychological pressure that makes Bonart one of the most dangerous figures in the universe. 3 points for Geralt and 2 points for Bonart.
Geralt's art from the game "Gwent"
If we take the pure biological strength, speed, overall potential and combat capabilities of Geralt. He is a mutant, armed with magic, witcher techniques, and regeneration. In a fair duel, especially when prepared, he would almost certainly outperform Bonart.
If we consider the circumstances, psychology, suddenness, exhaustion and dirty tricks, Bonart is able to win. He is a master of killing people, ingeniously exploiting weaknesses and hitting where Geralt often does not even look — into the psyche. Under the right conditions, he can force a fight on the witcher, which he will lose.
Thus, the difference between them is not so much in strength as in conditions.
Bonart's fan art
According to my subjective scoring, Geralt Bonart won 8:7.
A lot about Leo Bonarte remains unknown, and, in my opinion, his story was not fully revealed in the books — as a result, the character was plot-leaked. But you can't argue with the author's idea, so we have what we have. In the next post, we will take a closer look at the theory that Leo Bonart could be a witcher or be associated with witcher experiments.
Are you interested in the witcher universe?0
If you replace each component of the ship, will it remain the same object? And if it is new, at what point will it become so – with the first replaced part, the last one, or in the middle of reconstruction? Or maybe it's not the structure of the object at all, but its contents and purpose?
- the Tessei paradox
The frame, covered with dried mud, has been annoying my eyes for a long time. Every time I leave the entrance, I glance at the bell, covered with rust, and two wheels that have repeatedly plunged into oceans of autumn puddles.
My conscience finally couldn't stand it, and I took this red-and-black old man outside with a bucket of water and a worn rag. I spent two long hours scrubbing away all these stains. And here it stands before my eyes – a clean and shiny Mustang, ready to detour along dusty highways and green fields!
Why don't you go for a ride?
I sat on the leather seat, put my foot on the pedal, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. There was a slight jolt and the wind began to cut into two strips when it collided with my face. I had forgotten what it was like to maneuver like Formula 1 at high speed between passersby, avoiding pits and flying down slides. The race turned out to be so energetic and exciting that my first stop after an hour and a half was the gas station next to the tire shop at the entrance to the city center.
Unaccustomed to it, my calves are quite worn out. And my stomach, to be honest, began to grumble. I strapped my transport to a pole and went into the cool room of the gas station. A hearty hot dog in a compartment with an iced coke gave me a second wind, and I decided to continue my journey. But there was a darkening circumstance waiting for me on the street – the wheels of the bike turned out to be victims of a knife attack. They were not just punctured: I found impressive cuts on the tires, like on another corpse in the Hercule Poirot case, a pair of spokes were brutally chewed through with pliers, and along the red stripe there was an obscene expression desecrated with a black marker.
Looking around, I realized that the criminals had actively left the scene of the attack. Rescue was a few meters away from me, and I was forced to visit a tire repair shop. Fortunately, the men politely (just for the mower) brought me two suitable, albeit second-rate, bicycle wheels and one half-empty can of orange paint. The limb replacement operation was successful, and "design" adjustments were also made – the smooth factory red stripe turned into a crooked orange tail. I mounted my horse and rode forward.
By two o'clock in the afternoon, I left the city. Going down to the riverbank, I put down my bike and sat down on the grass to catch my breath. The harmonious silence was broken by a loud argument of people nearby. Looking at the source of the noise without interest, I saw two guys who were discussing something fiercely. The situation would have remained without my intervention if the conflict had not escalated into a serious fight. I'm sorry, I'm a fair person by nature , so I couldn't just leave the incident like that. Jumping on my bike, I hurried to separate the fighters. Well, the result was obvious – in response to my noble impulse, a good hook flew into my jaw , knocking me right back against my iron companion. The fall turned out to be unpleasant for both of us – I almost broke my arm, and he lost the bell, which broke off hopelessly and flew down the slope. The rivals hurried away.
Twenty minutes of searching turned out to be pointless – the call was not found, and I decided to return. As I approached my neighborhood, I drove onto a bridge that runs across the railroad. My mind was lost in thought about tomorrow.…
* * *
My thoughts scattered like bowling balls. The blow landed in the side. When I hit my head on the asphalt, I couldn't understand what had happened. All I saw was a gray sedan slammed into the truck of some hypermarket, and eight steps away was a bike with a broken frame and a chain that had shattered into individual microelements. For two hours, the staff conducted an assessment of the accident and found out how this horseradish managed to make the decision at a speed of 55 km/h to quickly bypass the Chevrolet in traffic and fly into oncoming traffic. After making sure that the wounds were not fatal, I stomped on, leaving my contact number for communication and subsequent testimony as a witness and partial victim (the driver of the van was much more seriously injured than mine).
By 6 p.m., after a tedious walk with a bike by the hand, I went into a sports store that I met along the way. The frame was replaced with a new blue one, and the chain and seat had to be replaced, the verb of which turned out to have an unreliable dent. In addition, I purchased a bell, since the previous one was missing. That's how I spent a few thousand and went home.
The courtyard parking lot was already fully filled, the sun was slowly setting over the horizon, and I was bringing the stallion to the entrance. "What a day. I was an unlucky passenger, wasn't I?" I thought and looked at him. I looked at it and didn't recognize it.
Interest is the path to results. It was interest that became the motive to go on a long and gloomy journey.
On September 5, 1977, a Wanderer in aluminum armor took off into the skies in order to conquer distant spaces. Cutting through the atmosphere, he plunged into icy darkness, filled with silence and the light of distant lights illuminating myriad possible paths. And that was the beginning of his century-long odyssey.
Native lands filled with high mountains, deep waters, bustling cities, quiet villages and sun-warmed fields have long been left far behind the traveler. Loving families, beautiful landscapes of ancient nature, a variety of cuisines from all over the world, art. All of this had lost sight of our hero for so long that it seemed to have aged and faded. Gebekli Tepe, Babylon, Ancient Rome, the Cenozoic era, flash by on a worn film.
No matter how beautiful and huge Jupiter's granite grandeur was, its stone structure could not resist the crushing blow of his supremacy of Fate. Hundreds of small, brightest stars were hopelessly extinguished in the chronos stream. As the Wanderer moved purposefully forward, Chaos quietly covered his tracks.
In the beginning, the Milk River spread out in an endless channel. The record says that it was previously called the "Milky Way". Now it is a dried-up huge ditch, from which Aquarius can no longer drink a cup, and Sagittarius cannot moisten his faithful arrows. Astrology? Not at all. The constellations here have long lost the power given to them by birth. The sky here is nothing more than a worn carpet.
Astrophobia is the fear of stars and space. But our Knight could not be a hero if he was afraid of these silent dead – the black devouring Phoenix proudly gave way to the Wanderer. The endless space scares with its infinity. The sun blazes with its immense flame. And yet it's so intriguing. But who are they trying to see in the distance between the dusty galaxies, when garbage crunches indifferently under their feet ? Naive minds are anxiously and meticulously examining the most ancient painting by a mysterious artist while a storm is raging outside the window. An unknown meteorite messenger rushes somewhere at a hasty hitchhiking gait across the Galaxy, leaving behind a crooked tail, like a line drawn according to the patterns of great painters.
* * *
Silence...
Skyscrapers and houses in residential areas shine fascinatingly at night. Deer gallop gracefully through the thicket. They're playing a new comedy at the cinema. But all this is no longer important and has long been forgotten by the universe. The Voyager 1 space probe is flying the last kilometers. He is detected by an eye watching from a distance of three highways. The most significant CD in the history of mankind smoothly lands on a surface that has not been touched for centuries. Images, music, audio recordings: an unearthly mechanism deciphers mysterious data. They found him. They finally found him.
"I observe clouds above the Ground, small cumulus clouds, and shadows from them. Beautiful, beautiful!… Attention. I see the horizon of the Earth. It's such a beautiful halo. First, a rainbow from the very surface of the Earth and down. Such a rainbow is crossing. It's very beautiful!"
Ian Banks
Background.
I got to know Banks's work a year and a half ago when I read his most popular book, Wasp Factory".
The Factory has its own charm, but I didn't really appreciate the book. It's not about the trash that the author described there, but the fact that the plot, in my opinion, fell short. Neither the characters, nor the disclosure of the topic.
Nevertheless, I've heard that I.B. has other books that are just as good, if not better, than O.F. So I started Steps on Glass.
The plot of the book. "Steps on Glass" consists of three different plots, the chapters of which alternate with each other. Throughout the book, the stories don't seem to be interconnected in any way... right up to the last 3 chapters.
The first plot is the story of a young guy, Graham, who experiences love at first sight for a girl named Sarah. There are three main characters in this cycle:
1. Actually, Graham, who acts as the protagonist of his story. Kind person.
2. Sera, who, as I said, is the subject of the hero's interest. The lady is a mystery.
3. Slater is Graham's friend with his own idiosyncrasies.
The story is extremely interesting for the development of the relationship between the main characters, a couple who , after meeting at a party, begin to spend more and more time with each other, despite the fact that Sarah has a husband, from whom she left, and a biker lover. However, in the end, the seemingly romantic and sugary arch of Graham and Sarah comes to an extremely harsh conclusion, which is very surprising.
* * *
The second story tells about a construction worker named Steve Grout, who quits his job and starts wandering back and forth. The peculiarity of Steve is that he is... mentally ill, who believes that he is being hunted by alien "Tormentors". He dodges invisible lasers and sees traitors and scammers everywhere.
This is the least of my dreams. Paranoid nonsense about aliens, sociopathy and the nonsense that the hero is talking, and the story as a whole, is even slightly annoying and boring, but by the end of the storyline you even show empathy for the hero. Still, the guy was unlucky.
* * *
The third plot has a mystical/sci-fi motif, as it tells about a pair of old men, a man named Quiss and a woman named Ajaya, who enter a mysterious castle that is beyond time and space. In order to get out of the castle, the heroes must play unusual games of varying degrees of difficulty and guess the answer to the riddle: "What happens if an unstoppable object gets in the way of an unstoppable force ?".
The door lock hides a lot of secrets, just like its inhabitants.
* * *
The moral of this fable.
The connection between the three stories begins to show up in the last chapters. But the degree of this very connection depends purely on the reader. From the superficial references to the deeper meaning.
And the stories, like the whole book, have a lot to tell.
Why is the name "Steps on glass"? Because life is a leisurely journey across a glass floor.: you know or guess what's ahead, but at any moment there may be a crack in the glass that will change your plans. Or it will burst altogether. But even realizing the risk and planning the fate in advance, the landscape behind the glass is distorted, and it is not always clear what the truth is.
And it is precisely in truth and falsehood that the whole dilemma lies.
As Morpheus asked: which pill will you choose?
Find out the disgusting truth and live with it, or amuse yourself in your cozy little world, even if it's not true?
What will happen when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object?
Book: "Steps on glass".
Author: Ian Banks.
Genre: I would classify the book as mystical realism.
Written: 1985.
Verdict: 8.5/10. It is easy to read, not voluminous and interesting.
