I had a faint feeling of deja vu typing this post.

[snarp]

It's nice that there's a Forgotten Beasts of Eld manga, and everything, but you know what McKillip story was made for this? The Riddlemaster series.

Seriously, here are some character descriptions from book one:

Our hero, Morgon, Prince of Hed:

Morgon, with his hair and eyes the color of light beer, bore the stamp of their grandmother, whom the old men remembered as a slender, proud woman from south Hed: Lathe Wold's daughter. She had had a trick of looking at people the way Morgon was gazing at Eliard, remotely, like a fox glancing up from a pile of chicken feathers.

Morgon's hobbies include pacifism, playing the harp badly, and staying his comfort zone thank-you-very-much. He also has three little stars on his forehead, and is really upset when he finds out that there are all these prophecies about him. Oh, Morgon.

Deth, the world's best harpist:

He was quietly dressed; the fine cloth and color of his blue-black tunic, the heavy chain of linked, stamped squares of silver on his breast were bewildering. His face was lean, fine-bone, neither young nor old; his hair-was a loose cap of silver.

[...]

The ship scuttled before the wind, Hed grew small, blurred in the distance. The High One's harpist had come to stand at the railing, his grey cloak snapped behind him like a banner.

Morgon's eyes wandered to his face, unlined, untouched by the sun. A sense of incongruity nudged his mind, of a riddle shaping the silver-white hair, the fine curve of bone.

The harpist turned his head, met Morgon's eyes. Morgon asked curiously, "What land are you from?"

"No land. I was born in Lungold."

"The wizards' city? Who taught you to harp?"

"Many people. I took my name from the Morgol Cron's harpist Tirunedeth, who taught me the songs of Herun. I asked him for it before he died."

"Cron," Morgon said. "Ylcorcronlth?"

"Yes."

"He ruled Herun six hundred years ago."

"I was born," the harpist said tranquilly, "not long after the founding of Lungold, a thousand years ago."

Deth's job is being the gentle mentor figure with dark secrets:

"Morgon, there were things I could not give Ingris, and things I cannot give you now. But I swear this: if you finish this harsh journey to Erlenstar Mountain, I will give you anything you ask of me. I will give you my life."

"Why?" he whispered.

"Because you bear three stars."

His other job is being a metaphor for death. I don't know if that was obvious.

Astrin:

"You have white hair and white eyes, you meddle with ancient stones and books of wizardry; no one has seen you at Caerweddin in five years, and for all anyone knows it's entirely possible that you have gone mad."

He will shortly lose one of those white eyes. Saving Morgon's life! Astrin had lived alone digging up ruins for years when Morgon had washed up on the shore near his house, injured, mute and amnesiac. So Astrin nursed him back to health, and they bonded. Astrin to Morgon:

"You are so patient here. Perhaps you belong here, working among these forgotten things, in silence. And you accept my strange ways so unquestioningly, as though you can't remember how men do live with one another..."

Aw, Astrin. Then a shapeshifter attacks him, and Morgon nurses him back to health. And then a shapeshifter disguised as Astrin goes after Morgon, and real-Astrin shows up to save him and loses an eye. (This is less abrupt in the actual book.)

However, Astrin cannot achieve his aim of becoming a CLAMP character without a properly angst-ridden backstory:

"Oh. I am Astrin Ymris." Then he added formally, almost bitterly, "I am the brother and land-heir of Heureu, King of Ymris."

Tell us more about that, Astrin!

He paused a moment, then went on slowly, as if remembering himself, "I haven't always been alone. I grew up in Caerweddin, with Heureu, and the sons of our father's High Lords, in the beautiful, noisey house Galil Ymris made out of the Earth-Master's stones. Heureu and I were close then, like shadows of each other. That was before we quarrelled." He shrugged the words away as Morgon looked at him. "It makes no difference here. I'll never go back to Caerweddin, and Heureu will never come here. I had just forgotten that once I wasn't alone. You forget easily."

To top all this off, he has a "wild white cat" with "ice-blue eyes" who protects him from the shapeshifters while he wanders sadly through the ruins.

But my favorite is Lyra:

A girl of fourteen or fifteen stepped to their fire, stirred the embers until they caught, and tossed a handful of twigs on it. Her heavy, loose coat was the color of flame; her dark hair was drawn back from her face, coiled in a thick braid on the crown of her head. Finished, she straightened, holding one arm as though it pained her. In the other hand she held a light spear of ash and silver.

She has an equally-photogenic posse:

She lifted an arm suddenly, and like a ring of color out of the darkness other young women in long, bright, richly woven coats surrounded their camp, spearpoints forming a jagged, glittering circle.

And does not approve of our harp-playing-pacifist of a hero:

In a swift movement, she thrust her spear across him and picked up his harp by the strap. He caught at it rising; the spearhead swooped away from him with its burden. She tilted the spear, let the harp slide down it to her shoulder.

[...]

"I'm a farmer, not a warrior."

"There's not a man in the High One's realm who would dare touch Deth. But you--"

"I can take care of myself. Thank you."

Her brows flicked up. She said kindly, "I'm only trying to give you the benefit of my experience. No doubt Deth can take care of you if there's trouble."

Deth's voice trailed into his harping. "The Prince of Hed is remarkably adept at surviving... Hed is a land renowned for its peace, a concept often difficult to understand."

"The Prince of Hed," Lyra said, "is no longer in Hed."

But that's okay, she can work the problem:

Lyra was silent, her dark eyes on Morgon's face as he drank. He felt, as he put his cup down again, the light touch of her hand on his shoulder. "Well, then, since you won't protect yourself, I'll come with you and guard you," she said. "There's no one in the Morgol's guard who could do that better than I could--no one in all Herun." She looked across him to El, "May I have your permission?"

"No," Morgon said.

"Do you doubt my skill?" She picked up her knife, poised the blade between finger and thumb. "Do you see that rope at the far end of the room holding the torch?"

"Lyra, please do not set the room on fire," the Morgol murmured.

"Mother, I'm trying to show him--"

The Morgol is Lyra's mother, and when she dies, Lyra will take her place, thus developing "coin-colored" eyes and x-ray vision. That's just how Morgols roll.

Comments

[affreca]

I love this idea.

[estara]

I have been thinking of an anime, actually, for ages. Or at LEAST a Ghibli film for one of the three volumes. Preferably the Raederle-centered one ^^ - not that I don't like Morgon.

The Calling by Okano Reiko

[(Anonymous)]

Hello! I happened upon your blog looking for information about Okano Reiko's manga adaptation of the Forgotten Beasts of Eld. I've been dying to read it, and admire her artwork ever since I found out about it. I was hoping to scanlate it. Is there any chance you'd be interested in translating it? I can do the scanning and editing.

My email is [a]liera]@gmail.com without any []'s