Aelren's Flaming Glogg-Bronze Imanjeth

Egg Name: Careless Cardamom Egg

Egg Desc: Pale green dominates the shell of this unusually pointed egg, with darker green veining in long irregular stripesexcept for one huge stain. Here, a crush of seed-black specks pepper the surface, an oily sheen brightening each dark fleck to gleam in the ambient light. Where nut-studded breads surprise with a mystery of sharp pungency; where curries tantalize with a quick hot blaze of sweet fireeven so here, in an inanimate eggshell hiding a spark of life, does this innocuous pod tease with an inner intimation of fiery essence.

Hatching Message: The Careless Cardamom Egg blazes, burns out here on the Sands, that pale, pale green giving way to fire and light as the eggshell splinters and splits, finally spilling its spark of life. —Oh-ho! But this bronze dragonet's not so sparkly, hunched there admist the shards; though his pair of gleaming eyes stare out, bewildered, from behind a jagged piece of green eggshell.

Hatchling Name: Flaming Glogg-Bronze Dragonet

Hatchling Description: Vaguely verdant shadows cloak the aged bronze that haunts the heft of the dragon's lightly arched neck, coiling down to the cradle of the chest's rocky barrel. The crags of his shoulders are softened by the lushness of ancient mossy hues. The merciless poniard-like talons gleam in stark contrast to the whole, where vine-gloom patterns lace his wide, wide wings with darkness. Throughout his entire ruinous length, the relentless viny, veiny overgrowth tempers his grandeur with wildness.

Impression Message: An immense sea of silence engulfs you— silence? A thundering silence if so, one of vast canopied trees and ruinous temples. Cool, green darkness floods your senses with the knowledge of all that’s undomesticated, untamed, or long-since gone feral. As the unheard rumble builds to a low roar, the sense of foliage presses closer, your known life crumbles into insignificance and the imagination reels: «… It is I… Imanjeth.»


When creating Imanjeth, we went wild with the theme of spices. Your dragon's hatch-name comes from one of two recipes we've chosen to share with you, Flaming Glogg.

In case you've never heard of Glogg, here's what says:

Glogg is a traditional drink of the Swedish & Finnish Advent season[….] Glogg is traditionally made with red wine, and each small glass has a few almonds and raisins in it as well as the drink. December in this region is a dark, wintry time, and this hot drink helps keep the spirits cheered.

(Follow the link to learn more!)
Imanjeth's hatch name may have come from something drunk in snow-bound Europe, but his personal affinities hail from a warmer sphere. We looked to Guatemala (where cardamom is grown) and its lush, tropical forests, where the heart of the Mayan empire once flourished. Tikal, the largest ancient Mayan city, is sprawling, magnificent, and now mostly moss-covered. Like Tikal, Imanjeth is part untamed jungle, with all its vastness and wildness; but he's also part ancient ruins, hidden by vines and moss and waiting — just waiting — to be stumbled upon by accident. We had in mind these images specifically: and

what about his proper name? Ahh, Imanjeth! His name is taken from "imanje" — "treasure" in Croatian. You see, he's like the hidden ruins lying beneath layers and layers of time and moss; he's also like a treasure in the wild, wild jungle, perhaps even a treasure in your heart. How does the verse go? "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." For where your Imanjeth is, there your heart will be also. Treasure is also often buried, for safe-keeping, and that's almost how your Imanjeth can be: he'll try to cover parts of himself up, and it will take time to unearth, uncover all that there is to him.

Imanjeth, Imanjeth. Ih-MAUN-jeth. Ihmaaaanjeth. Like a mantra, a chant —- a whisper in the jungle? Imaaaaanjeth.


I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
Now at last I can die!

I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!

— Sara Teasdale

At his core, Imanjeth is wild. Not unruly, not high-strung, not erratic, and perhaps not necessarily unpredictable (though he has his moments). He's wild in that his heart cannot and will not be tied down, domesticated, cultivated, or tamed. There's an unrefined, unpolished quality about him; he is refreshingly rough around the edges. Imanjeth is a taste of something that's untouched, unhandled. Those ancient ruins unseen by greedy treasure-hunters— concealed so much by the intimidating, mysterious jungle. Few would venture into such savage wilderness.

He is not molded by what others think; he doesn't know how to follow the unspoken, superficial rules of society. He lives and breathes a freedom that, so often, others don't experience. He's wind and sea and sun: all which can't be confined, grasped, taken. He's just too vast and magnificent and, and — elusive, almost. That hidden treasure. Hard to hold onto. He doesn't bind himself to anyone or anything (save for you) but he tastes and drinks of that life, Pern, and you have to offer him. Of course, this means that Imanjeth will make social blunders. He’s unaware of social rules - and even if he were aware, he’d probably choose to buck the system. At times, the wrong words will simply fall out of his mouth. Call it lack of tact, call it impolite - he just says what he’s thinking, what he feels, what he sees, what he knows to be true. It’ll usually be up to you to sort out the aftermath, while your lifemate, unaware or disinterested in the problems he’s caused, calls you on to some other conversation or challenge.

He'll also have problems with conformity. He come across as defiant when he encounters authority figures - not because he’s arrogant, but because he finds it hard to settle down, to do what everybody else does. «Formations? Boring!»

Should he find himself in a leadership position. He might have trouble remembering the capabilities and limits of others - he’s aware of what he can do, and sometimes assumes that everybody else can manage the same things.

His strengths, spring from the same areas as his weaknesses. He’ll be able to bring a touch of spirit to even the most staid dragon around the weyr, and won't hesitate to share his discoveries. While he might treasure time spent in the, exploring with you, he’ll offer up images, scents and sensations to anyone interested in where he’s been.

Imanjeth has two passions: stargazing and the Southern jungle. Earlier we provided a link to an overgrown Mayan solar observatory. Imanjeth enjoys looking up at the stars. He doesn’t care about names or constellations: they just bewilder and marvel him. « What are those twinkling little lights up there? Surely glows do not have wings! —I cannot even fly that high! » he'll sit and stare for hours at a time out on his ledge, considering am wondering, then return to you in the weyr. Then he'll complain about him a crick in his neck and request and an oiling, while he contemplates - aloud, to you, or anyone who’ll listen - the perplexities of the Great Beyond, where his wings cannot reach and his nose cannot touch.

As for the jungle, he feels a strong affinity to it— its wildness, its shadows and how vast and unexplored it is. Though he's not so much inclined to explore as he is to just retreat into, become part of the scenery. Those jungly wingsails mold and melt right into the great and sweeping canopy of leaves, just as his moss-tinged bronze body seeps right into the backdrop of overgrown temples and ancient ruins. His heart yearns to visit the jungle often- especially if he’s upset, angry, or hurt. The secretive, whispering forest soothes him as no other place can. Home is among the great and looming trees, the rustle of jungle-creatures, the play of light and shadow. Hopefully you won’t mind sleeping on a bed of leaves and moss. Imanjeth sure doesn’t.

A word of warning: when the don’t bring anyone with you unless Imanjeth’s given his say. The jungle is something you both share: to him, it binds you together. It’s almost sacred. Taking an "outsider" inside its depths, its mysteries, could confuse and hurt him more than anything else. He's possessive of you, and what you share with him. It must be a truly special person - or dragon, perhaps, in the far, far future - to join you there.

despite his retreats to the jungles, only with you, Imanjeth's greatest fear is being alone. Losing contact with other dragons. Isolation. A contradiction to his jungle-lust, you say? Not so: in the Southern jungle, he’s never alone and that means so much to him: there is so much hidden, secretive life deep in the forests. The trees, the insects, the creatures no eyes have ever seen, save for you and Imanjeth. He likes being in the heart of it, deep in the jungle, rather than alone, out towards the edges where the creatures of the jungle never venture. Imanjeth, feeling an almost desperate need to keep others close, will often reach out to other dragons. He will spill his dreams, his daydreams, his secrets - your secrets, if desperate enough-whatever it takes to keep them nearby, within mind-reach. Think of a vine: it clings to whatever it can, and once it’s done that, finds it hard to let go.

Weyrlinghood, oh no! There’s not much to say. You’ve probably figured it out already: Imanjeth will have difficulty with rules, strict orders, and the Weyr hierarchy. And why in the world must they do all these exercises? -But if you ask him, he’ll do it for you (and you alone) whether he understands it or not. So long as you both can snoop around a bit later («What? Why can’t we look in Sparneth’s weyr? Or Aiwenth’s couch?»), or sneak out after dark (oh, those glorious stars!), or, or— the list goes on. Experiencing life will give him joy. He’ll take you through it layer by layer, sensation by sensation. Flying and betweening will be the highlights, once he’s learned (but never liking) to stay in his place in formation, follow orders to the letter, and reply with respect and obedience.

Imanjeth doesn't chase because he’s a bag of bronze hormones. He’s a romancer, a lover: and it is for his passion of pursuit that he will drop anything, everything to give chase. It’s the thrill, the rush, and that (often misplaced) idea that he himself can control the outcome. Will he capture, tame (—hah! The irony: wild-man taming what truly might not be tamed!) the green, the gold? -Or, if just by angling this way, turning that way, will he let her fly free?

Should he, indeed, ensnare a female, he won’t stay easily attached. His heart is hard to capture, and not just any pretty little thing will steal his attention or devotion. Imanjeth simply enjoys the wooing, the challenge of wooing, and that split-second feeling of infatuation. (Oh, but he’s so relieved it doesn’t last, he is: that’s just too much feeling, too much; and he already feels so much when it comes down to you, and the jungle, that he can hardly contain that as it is!)

Imanjeth is also very unpatriotic when it concerns Fort. It makes for a good home, alright, but, but-he finds it hard to understand why so many dragons and their riders bind themselves so tightly to a hunk of stone. Oh, he has inklings there’s more to it than that-but he hasn’t the time or interest to stick around and discover what that is. That freedom thing. It won’t stop calling his name….

This could, naturally, cause potential problems should Aelren ever grow up to serve in any leadership capacity.

All dragons have their own particular quirks, and Imanjeth is probably quirkier than most. He is a collector. While draconic memory means that he won’t always remember where his collectables came from, or even what they are, that won’t stop him wanting to keep them all. He’ll be particularly interested in the way your weyr is decorates. Mirrors. That’s what it’s all about. Mirrors create space, make his weyr a different place, and he loves that. If he gets his way, your weyr will be covered in mirrors, ranging from huge polished sheets that will cost you every mark you can scrimp and save for months, through to tiny chips that have been scavenged off garbage piles.

Once these are propped everywhere, he’ll want the weyr filled with greenery. If he can’t be in the jungle all the time, then he’ll bring the jungle to him. He’ll expect you to fit any furniture - a bed, a clothes chest or your belongings - in around his greenery, which will probably need replacing regularly as it wilts. And among the branches, and the mirrors that make it seem as though the jungle goes on forever, will be all the trinkets he’s collected. The shells from the beach, the pieces of cloth that caught his eye, the little statue of some sort of animal— (exactly what type will be a cause of great debate— a feline, a goat, a person crawling?).

Should you survive the decoration (and redecoration regularly, a difficult task with all those little trinkets tucked into branches!) of the weyr, there’ll be plenty more quirks to deal with. There’s the way he likes to taste things that you enjoy, the way he never wants to leave a gather, because he likes the patterns the people make as they swirl down below, the way he lands wherever sees something interesting, without waiting to find out that it’s a Lady Holder’s flower bed, or a Healer’s herb patch. Have fun explaining that!

When trying to work out how to describe the way Imanjeth just clicks together with Aelren, we ran across this poem - read it out loud, think about, and we think you’ll find it fits beautifully.

Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.

I am the pool of blue,
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.

I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies,—-
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.

—Sara Teasdale

Quite simply, Aelren, Imanjeth knows that you complete him. Your dragon may be, a wild child of nature, but without you he is only half there. He has found in you a perfect other half, one who will understand and complement him perfectly. The two of you won't travel a perfectly smooth road throughout your lives, but you will challenge each other at times. Help each other to find understanding and to overcome difficulties, and illuminate dark places when no other can. He will introduce you to new experiences and opinions, refusing to withdraw them simply because you disagree. Sometimes he will lead, other times he will follow - for when he found you he did not seek a rider to command him, or to meekly agree with him. He sought and found a full partner - although at times the challenges of this role will take you to your outer limits.

Physicality Information:

The couch is too small. The straps are too tight. The other dragons can’t see around him. Be prepared for this sort of complaint, because that’s exactly what you’re going to have to deal with throughout Imanjeth’s life. He’s massive. Immense. Paint him gold and you’d expect him to start laying eggs. Craggy bulk and length make your Imanjeth a physical force to be reckoned with, though he’s the last one to throw his weight around to get his way; he’d prefer to merely let his intimidating Presence speak for him. Because that’s what he has—-a Presence all along the colossal jungle-grown length of him, an immovable self-possession.

That kind of size doesn’t make for a graceful dragon. Imanjeth favors a more stately bearing, with steady and careful movements on the ground. In the air… get used to wearing your leathers, because once Imanjeth takes off, he’ll lock his wings and soar for hours. Gyrations and aerobatics are not his style. To him go the immense power of those massive wings and shoulders and the stamina of a lifetime.

The Mayans were forced to struggle day by day against the jungle to keep it from engulfing their cities. No matter how much they strove, the greenery grew, grew, and grew as unstoppably as Imanjeth will, for all his medium-small size at Hatching. During weyrlinghood, he’ll not be the growth-spurt kind. Well, you’ll think he’ll be enjoying a growth spurt when he gains a foot overnight, then the next night, then the next-then you’ll realize — to the probable dismay of your Weyrlingmaster — that this growth spurt never ends. He continues on a steady, surprising incline until he hits his full size, even if that maturity comes somewhat later than with the other dragons. And no seesaw of growing sideways, then long ways, then sideways again-he’ll remain in proportion the whole time.

Want to make him croon with delight? Stand on his leg with his wing stretched out next to you and scratch in one continuous motion along the length of his wingspars. Oh, heaven!

Mindvoice and body voice:

If the jungle had a voice, his would be it: the raw, profoundly bass rumble of the earth itself. Anger thickly laces it with the crackle of a tiger’s roar; other tones, especially whispers, carry the same hoarse backdrop, like rattling dry leaves. The jungle colors his thoughts, in the stately and vine-dark jade of unstoppable overgrowth. And what’s more, the cool, dark greenness of trees, shielding rain and sun alike, breathes at the edges of your mind. As inspiration for both voice and Impression message, we utilized this beautiful, beautiful quote concerning Mayan ruins:

The imagination reels. There are reliefs, pyramids, temples in the extinguished city. The damp murmur of the arroyos, voices, crepitations of the intertangling vines, the sound of flapping wings, trickle into the immense sea of silence. Everything palpitates, breathes, exhausting itself in green above the vast roof of Peten." — Miguel Ángel Asturias


Egg: B'nal.

Inspiration: M'gael, K'rali, R'sin


Flaming Glogg

1 bottle red wine
1 bottle aquavit (like a flavored vodka)
10 whole cardamoms
5 whole cloves
2 sticks of cinnamon
4 figs
1 cup raisins
1 cup blanched almonds
1 orange skin, dried
1/2 lb sugar cubes

Put wine, aquavit, cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, figs, raisins, almonds and orange into a pot. Simmer until almost boiling. Remove from heat.

Put sugar in sieve, dip into liquid. Light with match and burn until gone. Cover to put out flame. Serve liquid warm, putting a few raisins and almonds into each glass.

Elven's Finnish Cardamom Sweet Rolls

A recipe from
Willows Inn
Red Lodge, Montana

2 beaten eggs
10 cardamom seeds, crushed
1 small can evaporated milk
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
1 cup scalded milk, cooled
2 cakes fresh yeast
5-1/3 cups white flour

Mix all but flour together, then add flour and knead. Work 3 teaspoons butter into dough and let rise until double. Roll out and brush on melted butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. Roll up jelly-roll fashion and cut into 1 inch slices. Let rise until double and bake at 375 for 30 minutes. While rolls bake, dissolve sugar into water. When finish baking brush on sugar water and sprinkle with fine sugar.

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