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©2007-2009 *VyrL
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Phtoshop CS
Hours: I don't remember  Original character created by R. Bessey and J. Leman Thanks for the 200 000 pageviews!!! This is awesome!!! Jöllwin. Je crois que c’est bien mon véritable nom. Même si je n’en suis pas sûr, les gens ont pris l’habitude de m’appeler ainsi. Ce nom est peut-être une des rares choses dont je me rappelle car il me manque une grande partie de mes souvenirs. Plusieurs dizaines (centaines ?) d’années qui ne sont qu’un trou noir insondable. Mes souvenirs restants me ramènent souvent à ce jour, il y a bientôt cent ans, où des pêcheurs m’ont découvert sur une plage de l’île des Trois Souffles. Il y avait eu une tempête la veille et les marins de l’île savaient que les bateaux s’échouaient souvent sur les écueils de la côte déchiquetée. Ils m’avaient découvert au milieu des débris, inconscient, la tête en sang. J’étais le seul survivant entouré de cadavres. Les pêcheurs et leurs familles prirent soin de moi et je mis plusieurs jours à reprendre conscience et il me fallut encore plusieurs jours pour revenir sur les lieux du drame. Les corps avaient été rendus à la mer… J’en fus très triste, car je n’étais même pas capable de donner un nom aux morts qui m’avaient entouré. Il y avait des hommes, mais aussi des femmes et des enfants, dont les identités étaient maintenant le secret des dieux. C’est durant ce naufrage que j’ai perdu la mémoire… Les années passèrent et je me suis intégré à la communauté de pêcheurs et de chasseurs qui m’avait sauvé et soigné. Certains avaient des théories sur qui j’étais. Un réfugié pensait la plupart : le continent de Varen’ka, à l’époque du naufrage, était à feu à sang. Et les réfugiés se comptaient par milliers. Je me suis fait à l’idée d’être l’un d’entre eux. Même si mon cœur me disait que je n’aurai jamais fui le danger. Mon maniement de l’épée et une tenue d’elfe lunaire, que je portais lors de l’incident, faisaient penser que j’étais quelqu’un de sang noble. J’ai toujours cette armure… Et les années passèrent. Un siècle dans ce lieu balayé par les vents marins et jouet du dieu des océans. Des années où un rêve, d’abord anodin, finit par devenir une véritable obsession. Un rêve qui me hante. J’y vois un enfant, un jeune garçon, un demi-elfe qui me ressemble. Et je la vois, elle. Cette jeune femme à la longue chevelure noire et aux yeux d’or… Je n’en ai jamais parlé. J’ai gardé cet étrange songe pour moi durant tout ce temps, nourrissant longtemps l’espoir que cette femme existe et me connaisse. Mais elle semblait humaine. Comment pourrait-elle être encore en vie ? L’espoir était plus vif face à ce petit garçon qui, lui, pouvait être encore vivant. Mais où chercher ? Je n’avais aucun indice. C’est la visite d’un conteur itinérant qui bouleversa ma nouvelle vie de pêcheur. Il avait des histoires fantastiques, des épopées sur la Grande Guerre, sur les Pèlerins. Les enfants l’écoutaient fascinés par ces histoires qu’il disait être réelles. Cela me fit doucement sourire jusqu’à ce qu’il se mette à parler de deux pèlerins en particulier : Elwen-aux-yeux-d’or et Jöllwin-le-rôdeur-maudit. La coïncidence était trop grande, et pour le nom de Jöllwin, les enfants eurent tôt fait de penser que j’étais ce héros du passé. Au point que le doute m’envahit. Le ménestrel repartit mais les questions qu’il avait soulevées restèrent. Je devins solitaire, m’isolant de plus en plus souvent, regardant l’horizon pendant des heures… Le chef du village finit par venir me voir. Il avait plusieurs livres scellés dans les bras. Il m’avoua que son grand-père les avaient récupérés parmi les débris du bateau et les avaient cachés, pensant qu’il ne fallait pas me replonger dans un passé que j’avais, selon lui, sûrement fui. Et je me mis à lire l’un des manuscrits, celui d’Elwen et des pèlerins… Et à espérer. Rien ne mentionnant l’enfant, mais la femme de mon rêve ne pouvait être que cette Elwen. Une femme que ce Jöllwin avait apparemment aimée. Que j’avais peut-être aimée… Il ne m’en fallut pas plus pour que le moindre souffle de vent n’éveille en moi la volonté de partir à sa recherche. Pour au moins découvrir ce qu’il était advenu de cette femme, connaître l’histoire perdue dans les pages arrachées de ce livre et peut-être avoir la confirmation que le Jöllwin des légendes et moi étions la même personne. Et avoir quelqu’un qui me rattache à mon passé, même si je risquais de ne trouver qu’une tombe… Je n’ai pas encore eu le courage d’ouvrir les autres parchemins scellés. Texte de Vyrhelle © d'après un personnage de R.Bessey© et une trame de J. Leman et Vyrhelle Great thanks to  for the english translation.Jollwin. I think that's my true name. Even if I'm not sure, people have taken the habit to call me that. That name is perhaps one of the rare things that I remember, because a great part of my memories are missing. Many decades (if not centuries) are nothing more then an unfathomable black hole. My remaining memories bring me back to the day, nearly a century ago, when fishermen found me on a beach of the island of Three Breaths. There had been a storm the day before, and the local fishermen knew that ships went downs often on the broken ridges of the waterside. They found me in the middle of debris, unconscious, with a bloody head. I was the only survivor, surrounded by corpses. The fishermen and their families cared of me and it took me days to wake up, many more to come back to the site of the sunken ship. The bodies had been returned to the sea... I was very saddened because I had not even been able to give the names of those who had surrounded me. There were men, but also women and children who's identities were now the secret of the gods. It was during this shipwreck that I lost my memory... Years went by, and I became part of the hunter and fishermen community that saved me and took care of me. Some had theories about my origins. A refugee thought many: the continent of Varen'ka, at the time of the shipwreck, was a mess of fire and blood. And the refugees counted in the thousands. I had convinced myself I was one of them, even though my heart told me I would not have fled danger. My skill with the blade and the lunar-elven attire that I was wearing during the incident, made the impression that I was someone of noble birth. I still have that armor... And the years went by. A century in that place, blown over by the winds, toy of the gods of sea. Years where a dream, first benign, ended up becoming a true obsession. A dream that haunted me. I see a child in it, a little boy, a half-elf that looked like me. And I see her. This young woman with long black hair and golden eyes... I've never talked about it. I've kept this strange dream to myself all this time, feeding for a long time the hope that this woman existed and knew me. But she seemed human. How could she still be alive? The hope was greater that the little boy could still be living. But where to search? I had no clue. It's the visit of a storyteller that shook my new life as a fisherman. He had fantastic stories, epics on the Great War, on pilgrims. Children listened, fascinated by these stories that he said were real. It made me smile softly, until he started to speak about two pilgrims in particular: Golden-Eyed-Elwen and Jollwin-the-Damned-Wanderer. The coincidence was too great, and for the name of Jollwin, it didn't take much for the children to believe I was this hero from the past. To the point where doubt filled me. The minstrel went on his way but he left behind questions. I became solitary, isolating myself more and more often, gazing at the horizon for hours... The chief of the vilage finaly came to see me. He had many sealed books in his arms. He admitted that his grandfather had given them to him and that he believed that I had surely fled. And I started to read one of the manuscripts, the one about Elwen. And I started to hope. Nothing mentioned the child, but the woman of my dreams could be no one other this Elwen. A woman that Jollwin loved, apparently. That I might have loved... It wasn't much longer until the slightest breeze woke in me the will to go search for her. To at least find out what happened to her, know the story lost in pages ripped out of the book and maybe have confirmation that the legendary Jollwin and I were the same person. And to have someone that might bridge me back to my past, even if I risked finding nothing but a tomb... I still don't have the courage to open the other sealed manuscripts. Text by Vyrhelle © from a character of R.Bessey© and a scenaristic woof of J. Leman et Vyrhelle |
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January 29, 2007
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CHECK OUT MY GALLERY --> [link]
the french is so advance TT...i'll take ages to translate....i think i got the first line...
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~Dreams are meant to be lived~
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Gdy wyschnie źródło gwiazd
Będziemy świecić nocom
Gdy skamienieje wiatr
Będziemy wzruszać powietrze
XX....Beige.
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