Per te nacque (my new fic)

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Per te nacque (my new fic)

Postby zorrorosso » Tue Feb 14, 2017 3:16 pm

salut! Est-ce le temps de l'année encore, Valentine, ce qui signifie le temps de fanfiction de mousquetaires. J'ai vraiment lutté beaucoup avec les traductions, mais j'ai commencé une nouvelle histoire et c'est la préquelle de mes anciennes, donc je vais publier quelque chose de plus sérieux sur ff.net plus tard et je vais envelopper tous ensemble dans un long fichier. Pour le moment, voici mon premier chapitre de ma dernière histoire, j'espère que le prochain sera prêt bientôt!

Désolé pour mon anglais ou français, je suis mauvais en traduction et la seule chose que je fais est de corriger GT si elle fait un mauvais travail.

---------Chapter 1---------

For you* Don Quixote was born and I for him. His was the power of action, mine of writing. Only we two are at one, despite that fictitious and Tordillescan scribe who has dared, and may dare again, to pen the deeds of my valorous knight with his coarse and ill-trimmed ostrich feather. This is no weight for his shoulders, no task for his frozen intellect; and should you chance to make his acquaintance, you may tell him to leave Don Quixote's weary and mouldering bones to rest in the grave, nor seek, against all the canons of death, to carry him off to Old Castile, or to bring him out of the tomb, where he most certainly lies, stretched at full length and powerless to make a third journey, or to embark on any new expedition. For the two on which he rode out are enough to make a mockery of all the countless forays undertaken by all the countless knights errant, such has been the delight and approval they have won from all to whose notice they have come, both here and abroad. Thus you will comply with your Christian profession by offering good counsel to one who wishes you ill, and I shall be proud and satisfied to have been the first author to enjoy the pleasure of witnessing the full effect of his own writing. For my sole object has been to arouse men's contempt for all fabulous and absurd stories of knight errantry, whose credit this tale of my genuine Don Quixote has already shaken, and which will, without a doubt, soon tumble to the ground. Farewell.”

Charles ran his fingers on the last words that plied the page, and looked up at a white sunset, covered with trees, the clear sky that afternoon was still too cold to delay grazing withdrawal, he put his book in his saddle bag, and he whistled rapidly toward the dogs.
On the horizon, the white mountains reminded him of how the snow had not yet melted to leave room for the gray-black of the summer rock, but the slate roofs of stone houses shined black and glossy to a mountain sun, warmth was still only on daylight.


At the signal, the flock soon reached Monsieur André, a shepherd at the service of his family, further down the valley, who directed the animals on the road to the estate, while the boy briefly stroked his copper-colored foal and he undid the reins from the trunk of a tree.

The docile horse walked without hurry at Charles’ pace, who closed the path of the long row of sheep before him, on the countryland road.
The sound of fast and heavy hooves joined him from behind, he turned to a muscular horse, pitch black, almost twice its own and a richly dressed man pulled the bridle, stopping with arrogance.

"Charles de Batz!" - he exclaimed, without even taking off the headgear.


"Marquis of Navarre!" - Said the boy, returning the greeting with a short bow.


"Three of your sheep grazed among my cows this morning" - continued the noble, the strong build, but the trivial face, was indistinguishable from that of any other man.


"Do not worry, Marquis! Monsieur André has retrieved them earlier. Compliments for the beauty your animals"- said Charles, waving to the sheppard before them. Even Monsieur André noticed the noble and bowed his head in a gentle reverence before continuing on to the estate.

"I know, my cows are among the largest creatures of France and Spain, but I say! The world! "- laughed the noble.


"Ah, Marquis, there are larger creatures than your beasts ..." - laughed the boy in response. The man sobered, opened his eyes and looked at him with surprise, as if those words were a complete novelty to his ears.


"How?" - asked him, becoming more serious.


"I'm sorry to contradict you, but your cows are not the largest creatures of France, nor the world" - the boy explained.


"Do you want to say I am a liar and a blowhard? Count de Batz, were you insulting me?"- asked the Marquis of Navarra.


"No, your beasts are really of large specimens, beautiful and healthy, but... You see, in the world there are many larger creatures of any cow. Bestiary content is full of unicorns, elephants and dragons. An adult elephant counts two horses in height and the same in length. Some say that they saw, and not too long ago, creatures like dragons, maybe three or four times an elephant, crossing the sky and cover the sun... I do not see how one of your cows can do the same "- contemplated the boy without fear.


"Your book contains creatures impossible to imagine, but maybe you're reading too much and watch too little, Charles. That is how the sheep run away when you have your nose pointed at the sky, waiting for a dragon or an elephant that never arrives. I advise you to abandon your bestiary, your herbarium and other documents, but look at the world around you, you will see that such creatures do not exist and your texts have always lied to you! "- exclaimed the man irritated by his words .


"The texts may even lie, Marquis. However you question the volumes of people that existed with real eyes and ears, some of them still live and are ready to put into words what I have failed to do with his own pen"- the Count ignored the boy’ speech and put forward, Charles found the gesture extremely rude.


"But if their voice and their eyes, and those of many other witnesses will seem too little for you, what do you make of those texts whose authors and witnesses are dead and buried for over a thousand years? What do you make of the sacred scriptures then? "- The boy asked.


"You put in doubt the sacred texts?"- Asked the Marquis in response, whose attention was suddenly revived.

"It is you who have questioned all the texts!" - exclaimed Charles.


"You have just said that tomes such as those of the Gospels might lie. Let us take you home, and talk about all this to Mr. Count D'Artagnan..."- he said the Marquis breath taking.


"Mr. Count D'Artagnan died..."- muttered the boy, in an uncertain voice.


"Are you D'Artagnan now?" - Asked the Marquis, impatiently.


Charles looked down, the wound of his soul was not healed for what the man had just questioned, offended him more than any insult.


"Your godfather will not be at all happy. Sin of heresy is a very serious offense! "- Said the man, making his way in front of him, between the white sheep, the visible vapor of their breaths and their smell.


"I told no heresy!"- said the boy.


"Let the inquisitor judge what is heresy and what not. It is unheard of that you find yourself denying the sacred texts, I want to talk to your tutor! "- He said, spurring his horse to the head of the flock and in front of Monsieur André, who looked intrigued by his strange ways.

***


At the family estate, which numbered at least one hundred years old, and of these forty under his patronage, the Count de Batz was sitting by the hearth. The weight of his years had now whitened all his hair and began to hold him longer by the fire.
He did not pay much attention to the entrance of the young nephew, but felt something strange when the boy did not greet, as per usual, and not proceeded to his room, but he met his presence and that of the Navarra Marquis.
The latter not bowed to his old age, do not put all due respect, he did not remove his hat. He paused in front of the older man, holding out his hands to the sides and warmed up from the cold of the long gallop toward the house, he declared:


"Brood a heretic in your home."


Count de Batz rolled his turquoise eyes. Unlike the old tapestries, now forgotten symbols and statues from the scarred faces, only those in the years remained the emblem of what was once the noble family now reduced to poverty. Once gathered his forces to the heat of fire, the elder stood up.
Compared to his ancestors and successors, Count de Batz was a fairly tall man, so as to compare his height to that of the Navarra Marquis and command, at a glance, the compliance he lacked until then.

"Charles, what does this man mean?"- He said, turning quickly to his grandson.

"I and Monsieur André complimented the cows of the Marquis. Those are beautiful cows, large and healthy ..."- explained the boy.


"The greatest animals in the whole world!"- corrected the nobleman.


That again sprang in the boy his will to back and argue the man.
"It is not possible! I read it in the bestiary and my father said that he saw... "- Charles tried to explain.


"Listen to this, de Batz! Your nephew is ruined! He has read too many silly books and too little to the Gospel! Does not distinguish between the two texts, does not distinguish the true from fiction, the sacred from the profane! Therefore is not worth land for grazing and heritage, he needs a proper education!"- said the Marquis clutching in a mocking smile.


"In the meantime I myself could take charge of your land..." - he added naturally.

"D'Artagnan has many brothers, expert men. They will take his land and livestock, if this is of your concern, your grace! "- assured the older man, without looking away.


"As you wish. However I do not want to see again your beasts with mine. Your dogs barking at my cows and your shepherds on my estate. The next time this heretic will sit on my hill, I'll no longer be asking him questions, but the Inquisitor of Navarre will!"- the Marquis clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as one of his howling hounds could do, which he often was surrounded with and which he still smelled of.


"And so it is!" - Replied the old Count.


De Batz drew a long sigh, and, tired of fighting with the Marquis’ arrogance, raised his voice exclaiming: "Get out of my house. Now!".


The fire lost intensity and sank the home in silence and darkness of the night. The elder Earl turned to his nephew, without rancor and without anger against him. He noticed how he was still shaken by this experience, but knew he could not defend him forever from the hard truth.


The De Batz had almost nothing except their blazon. It was hard for him to express his anger and wounded pride of his youth, the boy wiped his tears and breathed in through the nose, still silent.


"Charles, I continue to see you as a baby, but now the years have passed and I find myself talking to a man with his thoughts and his ideas, the will to argue his interlocutor, heedless of threats. Despite my eyes fail even to notice, if the Navarra Marquis may call you before a court, so the King can call you in his sight as a fighter"- said him thoughtfully and downed to the hearth, adding firewood.


With his hands still trembling, Charles took out the book from his bag, and thumbed, with a brief rustling of the finger, then put it with his other volumes in a corner of the room used as a small study.
The elderly gentleman read the title, as he had done so many times before over the last few years.


"So you would like to become a errant knight?"- asked the Count with suspicion.


"What better we have in our time, a musketeer!" - She corrected Charles, strutting by the renewed pride.


"May the gods be for you what were not for your father" - sighed the elder and, from the corner of the hearth, took out an old sword blackened by soot of the fireplace. The young man looked at the rusty handle and the blade parade. It was an unusable weapon.
Charles did not lose heart: he took a shoulder strap and a leather sheath, which he used to keep his wooden sword, memory of his childhood games, and wore it as if it were real.


Once the handle would be polished and the blade sharpened, he may do of that thing an object which at least he could defend himself from bandits.

"You will leave for Paris at dawn and, under my recommendation, ask of the Captain de Treville. As so as the Marquis de Navarra could find of you nor even the shadow!".

---------------------------------------
J'ai plus, mais est en italien et est seulement un brouillon et GT ne traduit pas très bien un couple de plaisanteries de travail très important pour mon histoire, mais bon, juste pour le plaisir ....

https://docs.google.com/document/d/15HOEJIBECISwOwzdDDZr68fMtpbB2VolXVW7hj6xzwU
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