Trust in God (and lots of italics)

Today, it was suggested to me by God that I should devote the next family night lesson to talking about trusting Him. I was praying about my kids, and how to help them through the move to Idaho next month. They're conflicted, naturally, as any kids would be during any move. But this isn't just any move. Mom got married and, while they're happy about that - they love their step-dad and they get along with all of the new family members that came with him - life is different now, and we're moving to another state. Moving is kind of abstract to kids anyway, but with their dad telling them it's not happening, my sweeties have days when it's hard to wrap their brains around the reality. While praying about it this morning, I thought, "They need to just put their trust in God," and He said, "That's right. Do they know what that means?" I answered, "It's a hard concept," and He said, "Let's work on it," and proceeded to outline a family night lesson for me. 

I am asking for help with this. I have personal stories that I can use to illustrate the point, but I would love it if I could use other examples as well. And, not just stories that go, "So, I put my trust in God and everything worked out, yay!" Real stories are what I want. Real, true, trusting God stories. I don't want a story where the moral is, "So, if you trust God, moving to Idaho will fulfill all of your deepest dreams!!" This isn't the forum for me to tell them that I know this will be a such a wonderful blessing for us or that I believe this move will be good for them in the long run.  I don't even want to talk about the move at ALL during this lesson (so there's the only criterion - no moving stories!), I don't want that to be the focus - I don't want them to be manipulated, even unintentionally (if it can be avoided), into feeling a certain way (either way) about the move. I want them to begin to learn how to trust God. What it means to trust, how we apply the principal of trust and be willing to be vulnerable, even with God. How hard it can be, and how worth it, in any aspect of life. How I've managed to do it, how others have done it, how blessings - usually not the ones we were looking for - always follow even the tiniest step toward trusting God. 

If you're willing to share a personal experience, would you send it to me? Either through a message here, or, if it's too long or personal, a FB message or email would be fine. I'll let you know how the lesson goes - probably, like most family night lessons, I'll be going, "ARGH!! What was the point of that?! They weren't even LISTENING!!! " But it was God's idea, so I trust Him to help me present the lesson, guide us through a discussion and at least plant the idea in the hearts of my sweeties, even if they don't hear or understand every word I say. 

By the way, I'm so thankful to have faithful friends and family that I can turn to for help in teaching my children :) 

One last note - if any of Randy's family still read this blog, please know you're welcome to share stories, too. I know the kids would love it, and so would I. 

Here I Am: A Testimony

Every morning, I read my scriptures and write in my journal (my journal doesn't always happen, but most days). Before I read I say a short prayer and ask the Lord to guide my thoughts as I read, that I'll be led to things that will strengthen my testimony, which, I'll admit, has needed some strengthening the past few months. I never wavered in my belief, but I wasn't giving my belief the attention it demands to stay whole and healthy. 

Anyway, some days I'm struck by powerful lessons and today's was wonderful and I feel a need to share it. I'm going to copy this morning's exact journal entry here as a way of bearing my testimony, which also helps to strengthen it (I'm giving up my exercise time to do this because it means that much to me). Notice the total change in direction my entry took - a wonderful sign that my Father was, as I asked, guiding my thoughts to things that would bring me closer to Him (Note: any emphasis added to scripture references is, of course, mine). Most of this is so extremely personal, I can't believe I'm blogging it. But I feel like I should, so I do it willingly. 

"Wednesday August 8, 2012

Reading this morning Alma chapter 5 - part of it. In the previous chapter, Alma left the judgement seat to devote himself full-time to preaching the gospel. Chapter 5 is his own transcript (or pre-prepared notes?) of what he taught, which I think is awesome. 

He begins with a recap of what his people have been through since the time of his father. They were in captivity to begin with - the captivity of sin, taught by King Noah and his priests. Alma believed the words of Abinadi and fled King Noah to teach the people. 

Alma asks his people if they remembered what God did for their fathers. He uses one of the most beautiful phrases in all of scripture, in my opinion. "Behold, he changed their hearts, yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they woke unto God." (v. 7) I love that phrase - it describes perfectly what happens when we, like the Prodigal son, "come unto ourselves." We awake - and God is there, waiting. What miraculous love, to sit patiently while we slumber, so that we can awake to Him. 

Alma asks, "...were they destroyed?" They were obviously gross sinners - was that the end? "Behold, I say unto you, nay, they were not." (v.8)

(v.9) "And again, I ask, were the bands of death broken, and the chains of hell which encircled them about, were they loosed? I say unto you, Yea, they were loosed, and their souls did expand, and they did sing redeeming love. And I say unto you that they are saved."

I'm going to sidetrack for a minute. I pray before I read to ask the Lord to guide my thoughts while I read and write and I just had my mind go to the story of the ten lepers in the Bible. Here is how I feel it relates. As soon as the chains of hell were loosed from the people of Alma, "their souls did expand." I have a mental image of a prisoner with chains around his body - the chains fall and his lungs expand with the ability to breathe fully after all that time in chains. Much the same way, when the - not literal, but very real - chains fell away from the people of Alma, their souls expanded - they were FREE in every real way. They used those first few breaths of freedom to sing redeeming love - songs of praise and love and joy AND THANKS. 

The Lord healed ten lepers. Only one returned on his whole and healthy legs, to say thank you to his Savior. The Lord was clearly pleased with this humble brother - but He was also clearly hurt by the ingratitude of the other nine. Did He punish them? No. Did their leprosy return? No. In charity and love He mourned for them. And notice - only the one who returned to give thanks got a private interview with, and a personal blessing from, Christ himself. 

As an aside, having just re-read the passage, I love the parallels to my own journey of repentance - they plead with Him from afar off, He sends them to "shew themselves unto the priests [bishops]," and as they went, they were cleansed.

Let me not be one of the nine who were so caught up in the gift they received that they did not return to give thanks. Let me not become as the people of Alma the Younger who had forgotten their history and their previous experiences. I have my own captivity to remember. My own blindness. My own chains. My own deep sleep. And though, like the scriptural Prodigal, I was "a long way off," the Lord - my Savior, my Brother, never took His eyes off of me. He waited by my side while I slumbered - just waited for the moment I would wake, so that I could wake unto God. [note to readers: this is where I started bawling]

He healed me, AGAIN. He loosed my chains, AGAIN. I'm so thankful for another chance to sing redeeming love. So thankful for the patience, the love, the determination, of my loving Father. So thankful for the battles fought for me by His Son, my Savior. Thankful not only for His willingness to suffer for me, to shed his blood for me,  to experience sin and pain that belong to ME, to shoulder them willingly, to be nailed to them and die upon them - but thankful for His willingness to LIVE for me. To walk before me and light the way, to leave His example for me, to encounter and change and love and heal other stubborn, imperfect people just like me, so that I can see myself in them and recognize His hand in my life. 

I'm thankful that when I ask my Father to guide my mind, He does it, and sends me a blessed reminder of all I have to be thankful for - mostly my own redemption, my own wake-up call, my own loving Savior with His arms around me, always loving me and standing  by, waiting to bless me. 

Hallelujah. 

- H"

Papers in a box

I took an accidental trip down memory lane yesterday while cleaning out a few boxes in the family room. These were just lidless cardboard boxes that were living in the basement of the Old House when we moved here and ended up in a corner in the family room where there is still a motley collection of random things that I either don't have a place for or simply don't want to deal with. Or both. One because of the other, if you see.

So, anyway, I was going through these boxes - one was mostly cards and office supplies and random things that made me go, "oh THERE that is," like my old rubber stamp that shows a fish with big, puckered lips and says, "Sealed with a fish."  

The other box had papers of all kinds - old scripts and playbills, letters and cards, old angsty poetry, the journal that I wrote in on stage when I played Cecily in The Importance of Being Earnest. There were also actual journals, full of the obligatory prose of teenage pain and anguish, and a shoebox labeled, "Heather's letters" with myriad letters from friends; some in date-stamped envelopes, some on binder paper folded to look like hearts and arrows, some with lipstick kisses, some with big lettering on the front that say, "WITH UNDIEING [sic] LOVE FROM YOUR TEDDY BEAR MATT."

*sigh* I wonder if the poor fella still burns...

Probably.

Anyway, I sat there for hours, totally engrossed in my journal and the letters - it was fun. I made piles and piles, and they're all still there of course. I did throw away a big box of stuff but a lot of it is going in a box to keep. One of the things I found was a letter from my step-mom Deborah, dated June 12, 1996. It was written a few days after my high school graduation and it's probably been that long since I read it. As I read it, I missed Deborah with an intensity that I haven't felt since her passing almost 9 years ago. I've missed her many, many times over the years, sometimes at the oddest moments - I've had moments where I just wished I could talk to her, get her perspective, and moments where I simply craved the serenity of her company. Her home was a place of peace and quiet for me. Her voice was calm and her manner was gentle and unfeigned. She had her struggles, of course, she was human - but she was a strength to me, and a refuge and I missed her so much reading her letter. It was a happy, peaceful kind of sadness, if you know what I mean.

I decided to post this letter so you could all maybe get a little glimpse of why she means so much to me, and because the letter is meaningful to me again, at this stage in my life - I don't believe that it was an accident that I found it now.

"Dear Heather,

Amid all the cliches and pieties that were spoken at the ceremony yesterday, I thought the oft-repeated, "this is a beginning," was more true than even the speakers realized. Particularly I thought it was true of you.

You will now begin to govern your own life. This after a lifetime of adult betrayals too numerous to name. Some of the betrayals were dramatic, and some were merely quiet and cowardly - showing Ace Ventura instead of holding class. Despite this, you have managed to retain trust in the few adults who have not led you astray - at least not on purpose, and to retain that most important of all human qualities - a good heart.

In a world that has presented you with few role models, you must invent or find your own. This is hard, but it is not impossible (for example, when I looked for a model of motherhood, I sought one in the children's books of Madelyn L'Engle, and even in Mister Rogers' Neighborhood). There are models in books and in history and in quiet streets. And you can look for them in your imagination. Go ahead and daydream about the woman you would like to become. How would she spend her days? How would she talk to her mother or sisters? What music would she listen to? What books would move and shape her? How would she approach the first few steps of governing her own life?

It is thrilling and frightening to be in charge. It is also hard to realize. I think a part of me still expects someone to figure out a better way for me to live and arrange it all for me. I think I'm still looking in bookstores for some obscure title: Deborah, This is How You Do It. It is hard to keep in mind that you have the greatest stake in your own happiness and that you must seriously consult that inner voice of your best self to see if you are really keeping your truest happiness in mind.

It is also hard not to look for the well-worn paths, when so often I think it is the little-trodden one that leads to the interesting part of the forest. Tessa, for example, will likely follow an odd little set of stepping stones covered with ivy to begin her way to a peculiar and satisfying life of restoring old gardens. Your path may be less picturesque - or more so - but I don't think it will have running shoe tracks all over it. Maybe just a sandal print here and there, perhaps a fancy high-heel mark, and maybe the echo of jingle bell socks. That's how you'll know it's yours.

And when you do recognize it, by all means, leap, happy-dance, trudge and moan and sing your way along it. Don't let anything stop you from being Heather Aline-y Bean. Now is the time, my dear little elf, to do it by yourself. *

But if you need any help, know there are some of us on the sidelines cheering. Maybe some of us, like your Grandma Webb, are more extroverted and call out, "Heather!" with gusto, but others of us, your Mom, Tessa, Kyla and me - to name a few - we're watching intently with hope and faith and love.

Yours, Deborah"


When I finished the letter I got the distinct feeling that she is still watching with faith and hope and love. It brought me a lot of peace and a feeling of thankfulness for Deborah and others in my life who have really seen me - past and present :)


* When I was little, someone (it may have been Deborah) called me Heather the Elf. As I was a pill about letting anyone help me (yes, I've always been that way), this little rhyme came to be: "I'm Heather the Elf and I'll do it by myself!" I don't know if I made it up or if someone made it up for me, but there it is. I was probably 3 or 4 when it began.

Who's in love?

This girl.

Politics (or, Why I'm a Libertarian)

For years in our society, there was this unspoken rule that polite people don't discuss politics, which led to the sad state of only rude loud-mouths discussing it publicly. Happily, things are changing. Before my separation, I was getting pretty involved in politics and I posted about it occasionally - mostly campaigning for Mike Lee. After the divorce, I turned inward a lot and this past year I haven't really been able to even think about it. However, my life is wonderfully, amazingly different than it was a year ago and I'm again feeling the intellectual and patriotic pull to get informed and involved. So this is a head's up that I will probably be posting political stuff more and more, and as a lot of my friends and I don't agree politically (which is okay), this is also a head's up that some of you may be offended by it. Fortune, however, has blessed me with open-minded friends who, though they may disagree, will (I think) discourse politely and (one hopes) not swear at me as they disagree :)  

So, while I am not currently informed on any specific issues, I thought I'd briefly explain my political beliefs, in case anyone is interested or wants some background to anything I may post.

For most of my voting years, I voted a straight Republican Party ticket. I wasn't informed on issues or candidates and I figured a straight party ticket was a safe bet. Yes, I am partly responsible for Bush.2 and I apologize. I don't know exactly when, but some time before the last presidential election I started educating myself politically. And, no, that doesn't translate to "I started listening to Glenn Beck," lol. I read the Constitution. I read John Locke. I read Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington and the likes. I read Ayn Rand. Then, John Stossel and Milton Freidman; I started reading Townhall, Reason, Cato Institute, etc, and, yes, eventually I got in to Glenn. I realized I wasn't "conservative," and, in fact, conservatives kind of started to bug me. I didn't know what I was. Randy would come home, having listened to the radio all day, and tell me something "that kook Ron Paul” had said and I would think, "that doesn't sound crazy to me." Eventually, I ended up joining a local Davis County political group where I joined in (and started) several awesome arguments on the message board, went to some meetings, campaigned for Mike Lee, met with politicians, started figuring out local politics, etc. It was eye opening and I really enjoyed it.
 

So, after all of my learning and reading, I decided I align most with libertarianism – if you can stick an “ism” on libertarians, lol. I believe in the complete freedom of the individual to do with his life whatever he chooses, so long as he does not interfere with the rights of others. Pure and simple. What if he wants to smoke dope or drop acid? Yes, I believe drugs should be legalized. What if he wants to visit a woman willingly employed as a sex worker? Yes, as immoral and damaging as I find the practice, I believe prostitution should be legalized. I don’t believe that it is the right or responsibility of government to regulate morality. For one thing, morality is subjective and for this reason, a man’s morality must be his own individual responsibility. Furthermore, nothing in the Constitution gives the government the right to control how a citizen chooses to treat his own body. Of course, there must always be laws protecting citizens from one another, but it is the height of arrogance for any government to assume that it has any right to protect a citizen from himself and sheer insanity for the citizen to relinquish that control to a government.
 

This brings me to an issue that divides libertarians, often along religious lines - that of abortion. Some libertarians will join the voice of liberals saying, “a woman’s body, and everything in it, are hers to do with as she chooses,” (though generally this argument applies only to abortion. If she chooses to willingly marry a man who already has a wife, homeschool her kids, smoke pot, or even eat too much fat or salt, the government will have to stop her) including the abortion of an unborn – or in some cases, a newborn – baby. I disagree. Every woman does indeed have a choice, but in my opinion, the choice comes far sooner in the equation than some give allowance for. All women know that pregnancy can be a side-effect of sex. Therefore, whenever she engages in sex, whether she is married or single, whether it is committed love making or a one-night stand, a woman accepts the possibility that she will get pregnant. That is when the choice is made. That is when she is still making choices for her own body. When a new life is created, her choice is past. She is now dealing with a separate human being, an individual with its own heartbeat, its own brain, its own unique DNA, its own future, and she does not have the right to end that life simply because it begins as a helpless fetus.


Some women do not get to make the first choice. There are women who are the victims of crimes, violent or otherwise, that steal their first choice from them. As much as I would hope that these women would deliver their babies and send them to families who want them, I believe they should retain their right to their first choice and still have humane abortion as a legal option. I have read accounts of women who have delivered a baby born of violent assault and have found the birth to be as traumatic as the violation they endured. I believe in a just and loving God; I don’t believe He would want His daughters to suffer such a thing if it could be avoided.


My next topic may be even more controversial than the last. Abortion seems to have lost some of its controversy through being so continuously controversial, but education is the sacred cow that no one touches without reproof. So, here we go: I do not believe in compulsory education. I do not find that education is the proper province of government (Federal or local) and I think its role in education should be completely done away with, and all government funding of education should cease. I fully believe that the free market (a truly free market, not the kind we have now) would take over and education would improve drastically. With true competition, schools would be numerous, affordable, and innovative. For those who couldn’t afford school, charities, churches and entrepreneurs (free from government restraint) could provide much service. Homeschooling would also continue to be an excellent option available to anyone who had the time and desire.


There’s the argument, of course, that some people would choose not to educate their children at all. That is certainly true, but it happens now with the existing system so I don’t find it to be a valid argument against the abolishing of compulsory education laws. Especially since I find the idea that schooling equals education to be a total fallacy.


Education funding brings me to taxes. I see taxation as a necessary evil. I do expect the governments, both state and federal, to perform the functions assigned to them in the US Constitution and the various state constitutions. To do this, they need funding from the citizens. I do not approve of property taxation of any kind. I can’t decide between the other tax options – a flat tax, wherein every citizens pay the same rate, with no exemptions, deductions or exceptions, or some form of consumption tax – I welcome opinions and information from either camp if you have strong feelings. I certainly don’t think that there should be both an income tax and a consumption tax – one or the other, thank you.
 

Alright, I’ve covered drugs, prostitution, abortion, education and taxes…how shall I offend you all next? That’s probably good for now. A few last general things: I would love to see our government roll back to its original, Constitutionally-appointed size and scope. Don’t know what that is? Read the Constitution and Bill of Rights - and some people will even argue that the Bill of Right isn’t even necessary, that the Constitution in and of itself covers everything. I don’t have an opinion on that one, believe it or not. Not at this point in my life, anyway.


I have heard the argument that the Constitution isn’t adequate for our day because the Founding Fathers couldn’t possibly have foreseen all of our problems. Are we really so arrogant as to believe that our present-day issues are unique to modern-day America? Any student of history will know that is not the case - and our Founders were great students of history. They had seen the patterns unfold throughout the centuries of written history and again in their own mother countries. They knew the way to prevent the evils of the past from happening again - by protecting the freedom of the individual to shape his own destiny, and the Constitution does that. The problem is not with the document, it’s with the citizens who have allowed themselves to be led away from its principals of liberty.



So, that’s my kooky libertarianism in a nutshell (intentional nut reference for those of you who now think I am one).

Leaderwulf

I finally found my one remaining copy of a spoof of Beowulf I did as a report in my senior English class in high school!! I've been looking for it for ages and it just magically appeared in my filing cabinet! Woot! So now I'm going to subject you all to it, just as it was written in 1996. The format was copied from the version of Beowulf we read in  class :)

Leaderwulf

Introduction

Though some elements of this story may seem foreign to you, the hero himself should seem very familiar. He embodies many of the virtues we still admire in the heroic "dragon slayers" of today: Leaderwulf has great hair, healthy teeth and gums and doesn't wear much.

The setting of the first part of the epic is Perot, a guest-hall, or "mead hall" (Mead is a name-brand paper company that works out of Perot's basement). The hall had a central place in Anglo-Saxon society. Here, the lord's warriors could feast, drink, fraternize with loose women and (providing they were still awake), listen to the stories of a wandering bard.

You'll notice that the monser Trundle is immediately identified as the spawn of Cain (Trundle's parents never got along well and his mother takes out her anger on him). Although an affectionate nickname, Trundle was tired of hearing, "clean your room, you spawn of Cain, or you're gonna get it!" and longed to embrace the outside world.  

Characters

LEADERWULF - A Cleat; son of Hedgegrow, and nephew to Heimlich, King of the Cleats. Heimlich is Leaderwulf's feudal lord, as well as his uncle.

TRUNDLE - A monster who lives at the bottom of a "foul mere," or "resort pool." He has a reputation as a man-eating monster but is really a vegetarian and despises red meat, which gives him indigestion. He has a lazy, overbearing mother who calls him "spawn of Cain." His name might be related to the Norse "trindill," or "pull-out bed under a daybed."

KING BROTHBAR - King of the Dans (back in the days of King Brothbar's ancestors, everyone was named Dan, after the God of Fermented Beverages. After a few centuries, everyone got bored with this, and began naming their children things like "Unferth" and "Brecca," but they stayed in the land of Danmark and retained the traditional name of the Dans). Builder of Perot. Once befriended Leaderwulf's father, but nobody talks about it. His father was called Healfdan, which probably means "Half Dan," as his mother wasn't Dannish. Brothbar has a tendency to exaggerate a bit in his storytelling ("I once caught a sea monster THIS BIG," etc). His name probably means, "beer joint," or more formally, "drinking establishment."

PEROT - The gold-plated guest hall built by King Brothbar. Perot was decorated with the body parts of unliked politicians - the name means, "ear hall." Some scolars think that Perot may have been built near Lejre, off the coast of New Jersey.

BLECCA - Cheif of a tribe called Fondlings, and a friend of Leaderwulf's; sort of a nobody.

WELLTHROWN - Brothbar's wife and Queen of the Dans. Her name probably means, "nice shot."

WIGLAUGH - A Cleat warrior, one of Leaderwulf's select band (he played the tuba). Cheers Leaderwulf on at one point, but is otherwise silent. Wiglaugh might be related to Dolly Parton.

UNCOUTH - One of Brothbar's courtiers, reputed to be quite a ladies man, and known to be even better with a jug.

***

It all started when the Dans started partying at Perot. Day after day, Trundle sat in his foul mere, listening to the harp and the drinking songs, the yelling and the fishing stories. The Dans confused Trundle. "What do they do up there all night?" he wondered. So one night when the noise died down, Trundle gallumphed up the hill to check things out. One look in the door and he realized his mistake; the men were sprawled in sleep, smiling with unsavory dreams.

As he watched, one of the Dans awoke and saw tne monster. "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!" he bravely screamed.

"Shhhh!" whispered Trundle, "quiet!!"

But the warrior continued to scream, waking thirty other men, then passed out in fear. At the sight of Trundle, the thirty men began to shreik. In a desperate attempt to shut the men up, he snatched them up and shoved them in his mouth. When he saw that the other Dans were waking, he slunk out of Perot and back down the hill, trying to escape the embarrassment involved in the social faux pas of going to a party and ending up with thirty of the guests in your mouth.

When he got back to his foul mere, he spit out the bedraggled Dans. Trundle warned them that they'd better get out before his mother woke up. But those hot-headed Dans just made a bigger ruckus, threatening to give Trundle what for.

"What for?" asked Trundle.

"Yeah!" shouted one of the Dans. "You heard us! We're gonna give you what for!"

"But...what for?" repeated Trundle, more confused than ever.

But the warriors didn't answer him. They just kept on waving their swords and shouting insults until they woke Trundle's mother. Her voice shouted to them from the dark depths of the cave.

"Trundle!" she bellowed. "You dirty little spawn of Cain! You shut your friends up or I'll come out there and make them wish they'd been drowned at birth!"

"MOM!! You're embarrassing me!"

True to her word, Trundle's mother came out and devoured every last one of the thirty men.

In the morning, after a trip to the john and a cup of black coffee, King Brothbar saw there had been some trouble. He apologized to his warriors, and, with tears in his eyes, said, "Hey...stuff happens."

Reassured, they set about dividing up the the belongings of the deceased and had breakfast.

Eventually, word got around to Leaderwulf in his far away home. Yes, Leaderwulf! Heimlich's follower and strongest of the Cleats. And the bravest of the Cleats, having more testosterone than the 49ers.

King Brothbar, hearing that Leaderwulf was on his way, sent his old servant Wulfguy to meet him at the pier. But, he was an old man, and by the time he got to the door to leave, Leaderwulf and his gang were there. He instructed them to leave their weapons at the door, and showed them in to Brothbar.

Here, Leaderwulf made a moving, if long-winded speech, concerning Trundle and himself, the gist of which was that he would fight the monster.

King Brothbar suddenly looked up, and his eyes lit up. "Leaderwulf!" he shouted joyfully. "You're here!"

The King then also made a moving, if long-winded speech about how happy he was and, "oh, we must have a brandy," and so on.

Then Uncouth, who had been sitting unnoticed at the king's feet, spoke up. "Leaderwulf," he sneered, "don't I remember you challenging Blecca to a swimming match - and losing?"

Leaderwulf had an answer for everything. "Uncouth, my friend," he replied, "you are drunk. Yes, Blecca and I were young and boastful. We swam together for awhile and were separated; I hear he got home unhindered. For the most part I did, too, except for a few sea monsters. I fought and killed about nine of them, then swam home. But just let me mention, Uncouth, that I've never heard of YOU fighting any sea monsters, but, say, didn't you kill your own brothers? See? You're going to hell, so nya! If you weren't such a wuss, you could have dealt with Trundle yourself, but NO! You had to send for me. Don't worry, though. I'll get the big, bad monster myself, so TTHHHLBPT!!" Leaderwulf concluded as he nobly wiped spittle off his chin.

Brothbar sat listening happily to all of this. It had been a long while since there had been a quarrel between his men, and the tension was good for his heart. Anyway, Brothbar believed in Hedgegrow's son, and knew that, at last, he'd be able to have a decent clambake without having to worry about that pesky Trundle.

Just then, in walked the lovely Wellthrown, Brothbar's wife. She greeted her husband, and then the warriors. She was reputed to be a woman who knew what was right. As such, she broke out the brew and everybody toasted Leaderwulf. He stood and made a short speech.

"When the guys and I set sail, we knew what we were in for. And we're ready. Cool."

"Here, here!" shouted Wiglaugh, and blew a few notes on his tuba. A cry of drunken approval burst from the men, and the feasting began.

Despite Leaderwulf's fancy words, King Brothbar and his followers were uneasy that night as sleep came upon them.

They were tense for good reason, for Trundle was on his way. His mother had sent him off for some more Dans for dinner; it seemed all she ever wanted for dinner these days was take-out.

"Go up to Perot and get some Dannish!" she'd whine.

Trundle was tired of her and had decided to run away. So, on this night of Leaderwulf's boasting, Trundle left his home for good, on the pretense of getting his mother take-out. He had just set out when a terrible storm hit. He was drenched and frozen by the time he was passing Perot, and he decided to sneak in and spend the night. It was warm in the hall and he settled right in, being as quiet as possible. He knew how uppity those Dans could get.

Unfortunately for Trundle, Leaderwulf had been lying awake and had seen him enter. Leaderwulf jumped up from his bed, ran at Trundle, and whacked off one of his arms.

"HEY!" shouted the sleepy Trundle.

"I will slay thee, monster, for I am Leaderwulf, nephew and servant to Heimlich! I am the strongest and the bravest of the Cleats in all of Danmark! You chose foolishly to invade Perot tonight!"

"I? Invade? Nay little man, don't get uppity, I just came in to get away from the storm and you lopped my arm off!"

"Nay yourself, spawn of Cain! You came here to slay and devour the helpless sleepers in this great hall of Perot!"

"Helpless? You lopped my arm off! I don't call that helpless! And where did you get this devour stuff? Me? Devour people? Why would I devour people?"

"Well, why not? We're not good enough for you? You come here every night according to my king, and gorge yourself on Dans. They say thousands have been slain!"

"AWW! ONE TIME I came here, I took thirty guys and I didn't even eat them, my mom did! I don't even eat red meat, it gives me indigestion!"

"You're kidding!" Leaderwulf laughed.

Just then, all of the other warriors began to wake. They saw Leaderwulf, his sword ready in one hand, and the severed arm of Trundle in the other. Trundle was in front of him, on all three's.

"KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM!" the Dans began shouting.

"But I didn't DO anything!" Trundle insisted. "I don't eat people! I eat plants! But, I can't expect you to believe me. Fine! Kill me! Kill me! I can't run away from you anyway, I only have ONE ARM!" Trundle fell to the floor, face up. "Here's my heart. Stab it! Kill me, kill me! But just don't come cryin' to my dead body when my mom comes after you!" And there he lay, chest exposed.

The Dans were shocked. They had never encountered this before. A passive-agressive vegitarian monster with an overbearing mother? King Brothbar was summoned to the scene. The warriors explained the situation to the king. King Brothbar considered the situation deeply. Finally, he seemed to reach a conclusion.

"Can he Lambada?"

It turned out he could.

So, Trundle moved into Perot, and defended it from other monsters. His arm was put up on display in the hall, and life returned to normal.

But, in a few months, Trundle's mother huffed up to the gates of Perot. It appeared she was doing her dirty work herself.

"I'm hungry!" she bellowed.

Leaderwulf headed towards the door and drew his sword, but a voice behind him made him stop.

"I'll take care of this!" It was Wellthrown, their queen.

The warriors stood aside from the door, and watched the queen in awe. Wellthrown took Trundle's arm from the wall, opened the front door, and threw the arm out at Trundle's mother. She slammed the front door and rejoined the party. Everyone was impressed with the queen's overhand, especially the king.

"Huh," he said. "Nice shot."