Where was that handy-dandy online rot-13 decoder ring, again?

Post updated to clarify the language slightly, and add a link to rot13.com.

This will be fun.

Now do one yourself, I dare ya.

Tatterbots @4:
Yes, mostly because I couldn't get the tone at all right.

Consider it a baseline to exceed.

Tatterbots @7:
It was about 50/50 between the two. I'm just not sure it's a very good attempt, and am being possibly excessively self-critical.

Everyone:
More! Better! Funnier! Stranger! Step right up, don't be shy!

Anne Davis turned as the pattern of one of the children vibrated behind her. "Yes, Val Con?"
"What are you playing?" he asked quietly, stepping into the room.
"These are called scales," she said, motioning him closer. "I use them to remind my fingers of where the keys lie."
"But you play every day!" he protested, coming closer to the omnichora.
She laughed. "And you have been in my house every day of the four standards of your life? Yes, I play most days, but not every day." She patted the bench beside her. "Would you like to sit with me while I practice?"

And yet, if I'd been able to keep him safe from harm... would he have been able to protect me, when that intrigue came crashing down? Because he did.

No matter, any more. It was long ago, and the city where it happened is an ocean away, and no more concern to us now.

It was a chance meeting. He was lost, lying down in the grass near my home, feeling sorry for himself and talking to the air. Perhaps I should have walked away, but I was bored with my routine and in need of a holiday. His face was sweet, and his hair was brighter than gold.

We were both lonely, and careless because of it. He wanted companionship, for a time. Having never loved before, I thought it a game, and was eager to play.

Our acquaintance grew in small, sacred increments. He kept every promise, and was never late enough to cause me despair. He once spoke of another who had tamed him. For a moment, I wished that I could have known him when he was wild. No one else has ever been as honest, as delightful, as obliging as he. I relished the small ceremonies of our intimacy.

He left when the birds did. The wind in the wheat fields still calls his name.

I don't regret one moment of the time we spent together; without it, he would have been nothing, but because of it he is everything. There is no one like him in all the world.

He shifted, uncomfortable. She looked strange, as if even standing before him she was still somehow hidden. He didn't understand. He didn't understand what her smile meant.

"Just one bite, and everything will become clear." She raised the red fruit enticingly. How did she know what he was thinking? Fear thrummed through his belly.

"It is forbidden," he said. Her lips curved again, and he felt a stab of anger. Who was she to look at him like that, like he was some poor injured beast? He snatched the fruit from her hand violently. For a moment he stood tense, ready to throw. Then he raised the fruit to his lips, and bit down.

Her finger caught the juice as it dripped down his chin. She brought it to her lips. "Yes," she said. "I know."

Some unknown person, to whom I suppose I must be eternally grateful (yes, another of those), sat on a bench, read the interesting parts of this fateful newspaper, then removed the sections they considered extraneous and wandered away.

The wind flipped a few pages back and forth, one of which caught the eye of a passerby, who leaned forward to read the headline more closely.

"Say, old boy!" he remarked to his companion. "This looks like another one for you..."

On occasion I wonder why all the important events in my life happen in a manner that, if I found myself writing such a scene, I would white it out and search for something a little less trite. But on reflection, it is probably another of the endless list of things I ought to be grateful for.

[I haven't written anything, much less fanfic, for years, so please excuse me for screwing up this character's voice... If you don't get it, here's a hint: rttf, obyfurivxf, pbyyrtr erhavbaf, bu zl!]

I watched the other kids play it. Chumps. How could they miss the obvious way things worked together in that game, so clear and perfect? Some of them seemed to have played the game for a long time without getting any of it--I don't know how.

I took out a bit of cash, stolen from my old boss, and started playing. I kept betting him, and winning. Somehow I got so caught up in the game that I didn't notice the cop.

And that led to my stabbing the cop, and getting shot, and arrested, and that weird kidnapping/adoption scam. And everything else.

Exactly right.

Here is my own poor offering:

He hadn't intended to leave town that month, and he certainly hadn't intended to go with B to the new house he, B, had taken. To be sure, B was a cheerful fellow, if perhaps a little too apt to follow along with whatever his sisters and their friends expected. Certainly, with Mr. H present, there would be shooting and cards in the offing, although not much else-- B's brother-in-law didn't really add much else to the party. Moreover, B's sister C was always very solicitous whenever he visited. Almost too solicitous, really; she was forever ordering what she took to be his favorite dishes for meals.

But, on the other hand, the workmen were still renovating the music room at P for his sister's new pianoforte, and after coming across into Mr. W at Lady J's rout, he couldn't bear to stay in town. So he might as well get some shooting in while the weather was still good.

You got it! And now I am off to watch the BBC TV movies on Netflix... *gigantic grin*

And yours is Qnepl, isn't it? Last week's inexplicable fit of reading everything Wnar Nhfgra ever wrote seems to have paid off...

Oh, I see someone else has got it already. Never mind. Ohg Svegu xabjf ubj gb ebpx gur jrg ybbx. V znl sbyybj ghegyr'f rknzcyr.

V'z abg fher vs C&C&M vf gur orfg guvat rire, be gur jbefg guvat rire. Creuncf abg rirelguvat vf vzcebirq ol gur nqqvgvba bs gur funzoyvat haqrnq. V'yy unir gb ernq vg naq frr.

The first miners to reach the Oort found weird holes in their rocks. Only on carbonaceous ones, with a particular concentration of water ice. Exogeologists came up with all sorts of explanations, babbling on about thermal lensing, the manifold properties of carbon crystallization. Miners knew bullshit when they heard it though, and besides they knew more about those rocks than those damn Earth-siders. They knew enough to know what they didn't know. What no one knew, until Prof Jensen radioed into Pluto station screaming about something on his hull.

What were the chances? Billions of cubic kilometers of space, and trilchies black as Satan's asshole--you'd never know they were there unless you ran smack dab into it, but that's exactly what Prof Jensen did. 'Course, he wasn't Prof then. We just called him Ol' Bastard Jensen. He didn't get that fancy Pee Aitch Dee until Stanford sent out a speculative exobiologist to confirm his 'amateur' findings. By the time the poor tweedy fellow arrived, Jensen'd set up a star scanner and tracked down a couple of live samples. He'd watched them laying down alone on a rock, and then popping out two at a time. Sure enough, those rocks had those exact damn holes in them.

Lucky? Some say they are. Then again, things didn't work out so well for Prof Jensen. No one's quite explained the accident, but there were traces of trilchy cells in the wreckage. Could have gotten there any number of ways, though. It doesn't really prove anything.

Still, changed his life, didn't they?

Not really a butterfly moment, I guess, but the idea seized me.

Just a spoiled brat, most likely. M said he couldn't have her, so of course he had to have her *right now*. It didn't matter that she was a valuable negotiating piece. He doesn't care that we're getting our tails whipped because of his sulking.

A war is no place for spoiled brats.

However, he wasn't supposed to find us there. That changed everything.

When I had to hide, later, I looked for something big enough to hold more than just me, and filled with softness.

Had I not been ordered abroad for service just as the war broke out, had the bullet been just an inch or two over, and had I not been sick all those months following my hospitalisation for the wound, then I surely would have remained in the Army, and perhaps not returned home for many years.

Had I some family left so that I might not have lived the life of a single man in the great city, and then happened to meet an old school chum at a bar just at the moment of having to decide how best to modify my style of living, then I would never have taken lodging with my friend, and my life would have been far, far different.

I think I can truthfully say that I, my wife, my friend, and very likely the nation itself is the better for those accidents of fate.

I say this having read... one story? I can remember one story, anyway, from the brown Appreciating Literature book. So I could be wildly off.

Bruce Cohen @ 40: Fureybpx Ubyzrf?

Thatn Qva

Got it!

And of course it didn't, not for them and not for me.

If I ever have a palace, I will name it Crzoreyl...

"Dude, you need to get out, have some fun." The roommate is making a bleary, stoned attempt to fulfill what he sees as his roommate-ly duties.

"I need to get a fucking job," the nameless man says.

"Nah," The roommate waves a hand vaguely in dismissal. "Nah, what you need," he pauses to relocate his train of thought. "What you need is something to eat." He rummages through the mess on the floor. He brandishes a wrinkled flyer triumphantly. "Pizza?" He waggles his eyebrows enticingly. "Thirty minutes, guaranteed."

Christmas; decorations and carols everywhere. I'm unhappy; gonna leave when I've made my pile. Told my man that; made him cry. Was selfish; drove him away. Wish I could skate away.

(Naq V zrnag sbe vg gb unccra evtug nsgre ur tbg sverq sebz uvf oheo pbc wbo naq evtug orsber ur tbg gur cvmmn qryvirel wbo.)

I think I've just worked out how Iain Banks invents all his character names. (wanders off to see what "Diziet Sma" ROT13s into)

Linkmeister #50: ol gur yvivat Tbq gung znqr lbh Lbh'er n orggre zna guna V nz....

abi, you made me cry before breakfast.

Sometimes, it's the smallest coincidences that lead, ultimately, to victory.

And then my sister died, with her husband, in an accident. Charles always did like his new-fangled horseless carriage, but those things are dangerous!

Now we have our niece, Dorothy. She's a precious little baby, yes she is. Oh, she'll have plenty of room to run around out here!

At least his children are better than he was. The Force moves in mysterious ways.

Bov Jna Xrabov, whfg orsber uvf svany onggyr jvgu Qvpx Purarl?

I don't think the identification of 20 can be right, because, IIRC -- I don't have Fgebat Cvbfba with me at present -- Jvzfrl was involved because the case involved was Cnexre'f.

What an excellent and entertaining depiction of embarrassed retreat. I'm grinning now (laughing with you, not at you, I hope.)

There's no point wasting any more time around here. I can't even IMAGINE being able to afford to hire one of these investigators. Time to head home, even if there's nothing there but debt and disease. Wait...

Actually, if I remember correctly (and I happened to re-read Fgebat Cbvfba just this weekend) Jvzfrl doesn't get involved in the case until after Uneevrg's first trial results in a hung jury. He is a spectator during the first trial, and actually remarks to Cnexre that the authorities have captured the wrong person. Then, of course, in the period before the second trial Jvzfrl and Cnexre frequently work together.

So I stand by my identification. But here's a quickie to stimulate discussion:

"Well?" he asked, "Are you going to take the command?"
Of course," she replied. After that debacle with her earlier lover-- and still no closer to a family to show for it-- she would be a fool to pass up the promotion this time. Even if the posting was on the very edge of the known regions.

Bruce 104: Pnrfne va gur snyy, Terra Tbqqrff va gur fcevat!

Gur fvta bs n unys-pybfrq rlr ... Ahzore Gra Bk, va Oevqtr bs Oveqf.

Thanks, though of course it's only a variant on the well-worn theme :-)

Uneevrg

Fnz Nyjnelq (fcryyvat?) sebz Qvrf gur Sver?

Noelle: "Nlyjneq". I love the word "fossick". :)

Farther down, nor #80 nor #82 nor #99.

And I have the impression that heresiarch's at #30 is bevtvany.

If someone hadn't left that book in the barn-- The barn is a strange place to leave a book, unless you live there. Most of the inhabitants of the barn don't read much. I do, however, being a poet and newspaperman. While I was rooting around, I came across that copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Fascinating. If it weren't for that, I never would have become a detective. And a lot of mysteries here on the farm would have gone unsolved.

N Qrrcarff va gur Fxl, ol Ireabe Ivatr.

Pbeqryvn? (er. "Funeqf bs Ubabe" rg frdhrynr.)

(I was toying with how to describe that one).

The feller had a girl that he liked well enough to dance with, but then he met her best friend. He never knew what true love was until he met the best friend, so his girl went her way and he went the best friend's way.

Bob Devney #124: Fgrcura Zngheva bs gur Nhoerl/Zngheva obbxf? (or alternately, "Yhpxl" Wnpx Nhoerl. But of the two I think Zngheva is more likely to use the term "my dear".)

Two people got Diatryma's #38, heresiarch & Bob the Mole, and Eve guessed Nathaniel's #71 (which I can't confirm because I never read that...)

I think that you're right, nobody has guessed Bruce's #47. I think it could be Pnfr from Arhebznapre, but I think it fits Wrsserl in N Sver ba gur Qrrc even better

Never realized until I was writing that bit how easily that relationship can seem homoerotic, viewed from the masthead ...

Then my boss told me to hand-deliver a package to a Count's residence. I didn't ask questions -- not my problem, didn't want to know, just nice to get out of the office once in a while, you know? When I got there, though, the Count was out of town, but his wife was there. Lovely woman, with these amazing eyes. And she practically dragged me inside. Into the house, I mean, but, well. And it turned out that the Count was away a lot of the time, and, well, it was an extremely educational and enlightening time for me. Changed my life in many ways, and saved my ass on more than one occasion, though I'd rather not go into the details.

Perhaps the only accident in the whole business was the collision of two galaxies.

(yes, the Rot-13 bit makes it clear).

Vina Ibecngevy

Puevfgbcure Xvaavfba

Tbyyhz be Fzrntby

Qhar

Yes indeed! Or, when I first read it, Qhar Jbeyq.

#147 is Qhar, yes? Specifically Wrffvpn.

If Ben hadn't decided to travel with us, would anybody know my name? As it is, most everybody knows several of them.

This IS a sharpish bunch.

And ding, I think we have a winner. Wrffvpn may be the ugliest ROT-13 for the prettiest name yet.

Uhzcgl Qhzcgl.

Love the subtle comedy of your last sentence.

They're very odd creatures: upright, only two legs and two eyes, and they appear soft and fragile. All of them are old enough to have their arms, but I suppose that's not too surprising. Most of them have been staying very close to their ship, but one has come out farther, so I took the opportunity for a First Contact. It seems friendly enough, though of course I can't understand the growling it uses to communicate.

I think it wants me to board the ship, though it seems to be trying to keep me away from the other creatures of its kind. And I probably shouldn't go, not without letting my guardians know, but it has been kind enough to give me a few tidbits of very tasty metal. I'm sure there wouldn't be anything wrong with a brief visit, just to learn more about the aliens.

Clifton @ 133: Both of those sort of fit, but aren't what I was thinking of.

Yes, that's right. I was worried it was too obscure without the last bit.

Znaavr sebz Gur Zbba vf n Unefu Zvfgerff.

Still, it was a bargain, even if the engine only about halfway ran and the life support leaked like a sieve. I told them when they bought it—you treat a ship like that right and she'll last you a lifetime.

I wonder how they fared, and where she is now. I ain't sold a sweeter ship in all my working days, no matter what I say in my patter. She was fit to be a home, and I don't feel that about much of the tin I push.

Gotte be Thl jub fbyq Sversyl gb Zny naq Mbr.

Thanks for keeping the signal going.

Got it in one. The rcvfbqr Bhg bs Tnf gave pretty much everyone else's butterfly moments, but not Freravgl'f. And I felt like that one wanted telling.

Thanks for keeping the signal going.
Can't stop it.

Yup.

Abi @ 170: yeah, a good one.

Lee 168: V'z abg fher nobhg gur peno ersrerapr, ohg guvf fbhaqf n ybg yvxr Urvayrva'f Qbhoyr Fgne.

If they'd only listened to Clyman the whole tragedy might have been avoided.

"Yer doing math, aren'tcha?" He laughed. "Hell, you like math so much, why don't you go join one, huh?" He grabbed my arm, lifting me up. I looked back at my sib and cried out for help. She didn't move, though. She knew better.

That's how I went, but I can't say I'm sorry about it.

If only she had been reading a picture book, I should never have met the Queen. Or have had to recite any of that poetry... At least she didn't laugh when I told her about it.

That's almost too cliched, but I shall plump for Synfu Tbeqba

That's how I went, but I can't say I'm sorry about it.

I didn't see her again for ten years.

If she had come to Lambton a day earlier, he wouldn't have been there. If she had come to Lambton a day later, she would have avoided the place where he was. And if her uncle had not had a sudden rush of business a few weeks earlier, she would never have come to Lambton at all.

Great minds think alike?

That was the first time they met, in the prequel.

Nqiragherf bs Ohpxnebb Onamnv? (I haven't actually seen it, so I'm guessing, but the intersection of "band" and "saved the world from aliens" can't be very large.)

It's just like buses -- you wait hours for one, and then two come along at once.

Paul A. and Rob Rusick: you have both got it.

Dave @189 - For a moment, I was actually thinking Nepbg, Jnqr, naq Zberl ...

--Dave

Is #185 Evaprjvaq from Greel Cengpurgg'f Qvfpjbeyq books?

And, um I haven't read the copy I got for Christmas yet, (trails toe through the dust), but is #184 from Arny Fgrcurafba'f Nangurz?

(I can't believe no one else beat me to that!)

Oyrrx! :-)

It's not a bad fit, as I realized after I posted. Vg'f zvffvat nal zragvba bs gur fvqrxvpx Znegva Penar naq uvf tvey sevraq, ohg vg svgf gur yngre fgbel va Fxlynex QhDhrfar, jurer Evpuneq Frngba naq gur Fxlynex perj sbez na nyyvnapr jvgu QhDhrfar gb pbzzvg trabpvqr ba n gehyl nfgebabzvpny fpnyr.

But even that's not really working. The green grass, and the clouds in a perfectly blue sky aren't doing a blessed thing to ease my mind. One ought not stomp into spring,

Oh, Drat! There's no way in the world I can cross the river here. Well, I'm not going back to the house just yet, I'll sit and watch the water, and see what comes along.

"You can't have two younger siblings," she said, flipping her hair out of her eyes. He'd been watching her do that for years. It was like scratching an itch that never stopped itching, watching her hair flip away from her face like that, and then fall back to exactly the same position. He wondered how she knew when it was time to flip it again, since it never stayed away for longer than it took gravity to reassert itself. "It's wrong."

"It's not wrong," he whipped back, more defensively than he'd meant. Dammit, this wasn't going at all the way he'd planned. "It's wrong to keep people from having kids."

"Your parents can only have two. My parents only had two, me and my younger sister. That's all we'll ever have, they say. Marcie hates it. She doesn't want to be the youngest."

"Well, I've got two. I've got a baby brother, now."

"You're weird," she said. She flipped her hair again, and walked away. Well, that's it, he thought.

Almost as an afterthought, he sent a message to her mom, making it look like an accident. "Marcie--LOVED it last night. Don't tell your sister, though, okay?" If he knew families--and if anyone did, he did--there would be interesting times at her house.

Zbyr

V qb ybir zrffvat nobhg va obngf.

Abi's #167 is gur thl jub fbyq Freravgl gb Zny naq Mbr.

And I think #211 is Raqre'f oebgure, jubfr anzr rfpncrf zr. Crgre?

Why did I go there? Because my father told me not to, of course, so of course I ended up pregnant, and all the rest of it.

No -- mine is a children's book, and I have nearly a direct quote from a character ("You'll go your way and I'll go mine") that pops up later in the book.

I read your original post before I left for work; I only posted a reply after I had returned home (a shift later), read the accumulated responses and saw that no one had posted an answer. And then Paul posts his answer within a minute of mine.

He could not have read my reply, it would not have been posted while he was composing his own. Yet again, another careless telepath outs himself...

The greatest difficulty came not in any general agitation, but in that particular phobia I've long been at pains to conceal, though with mixed success. The captain knew, I think. He pitied me the more, perhaps, in prospect of the great exercise that fear would find in my new command.

When the moment came, though, my fear had absolutely no part to play, thank God! It all went wrong in quite a different way.

Quick as a striking snake, Chance spared me. And took all the life of my well-loved captain instead.

Naqerj Wnpxfba Yvool?

A bat flew in the open window.

(Okay, that's an easy one; I'm wondering how compact these can get without explicitly identifying the source.)

Thanks. I agree with Joel Polowin, but too slowly ...

And Joel @ 233:
Qenphyn. Specifically Zvan Unexre.

Joel @ 234, Bob @ 237: Yep, yep.

Grzrenver, sebz gur CBI bs Zvqfuvczna Pneire

Actually, apart from "naq V xarj orggre riraghnyyl", 223 could stretch to being Sebqb sebz gur Ybeq bs gur Evatf.

- o0o -

If I were to name a single moment when I understood the magnitude of my commitment to both mission and man, it would be the day I began my journey out of K. He was already months gone, exiled and disgraced, ostensibly for my sake.

F came to my lodgings to give me what money he had managed to save from the wreck of E's fortune. It was a bitter conversation. We both sought to hurt each other, and we both succeeded. In retrospect, I regret that I was so cold to him, for he taught me two things with his parting words.

First, he demonstrated that E had a context outside of the one I knew, one alien and impenetrable to me. It was a world abandoned forever for the sake of my mission, and I had never so much as considered its existence.

And F showed me something of myself, as in a mirror, though I did not recognize it at the time. I wrote later that he was one of those that were damned to love once. So, it turned out, was I.

That's the one I thought of as well.

abi @ 245: Been a while since I read it, but that surely must be gur aneengbe bs Gur Yrsg Unaq bs Qnexarff, whose name I forget.

Right!

Trayl Nv, yes.

In fact, now I think about it, if you stretch it just a bit it could fit gur "Ohpx" nygre sebz gur GI fubj Havgrq Fgngrf bs Gnen.

My comment was not intended as an answer, just as an amused observation.

Ding! Prize: you can has a warm fuzzy feeling of success!

All right, here's another one:
One drunk captain. One tide later. Without the storm, what would have become of me? So many chance meetings that saved my life and others', in a land far, far away. I longed for home and tried to make the most of my opportunities. But the very skills that could have gotten me home made me too valuable and too dangerous. I lived on, an honored prisoner.

I thought of that, but was too tired to think through and confirm. Oh well, should have put my guess on the table

I like that one - very clever.

They agreed to pass on her farewell, and insisted on being let in to deliver it.

The journey home was close enough that he'd started worrying about the luggage limit.

Her aunt's spare tyre was also flat.

Fur ghearq yrsg.

Pnmnevy; Gur Phefr bs Punyvba.

Gateway book - Eddings' Queen of Sorcery, found on my grandfather's shelf and read despite, in spite, and because of the fact that I knew my mother would disapprove.

Interestingly, #188 almost fits Vna naq Oneonen nf jryy--ercynpr "jrncba" jvgu "gvzr znpuvar," naq vg svgf cresrpgyl.

Thanks! It was fun.

That's what this show needs. More approbation.

I'm still really tickled by the one from albatross @ 80. And many more, looking back: lightning @ 32, diatryma @ 38, heresiarch @ 60, carrie s. @ 106, joel polowin @ 137, dave bell @ 138, abi @ 167, luthe @ 190, terry karney @ 210 all have the advantages of being both nicely done and about stories I knew quickly.

Thanks again, abi: this was a GOOD idea! (Anyone else going to Boskone? Maybe I can buy you a drink at the hotel's brand-new Irish pub and we can toast this shared delight.)

Does all this remind anyone else of a contest in one of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books? Googling hard, looks like it's BEFORE MIDNIGHT. Wherein (far as I can remember) there are these similar cryptic self-identifying squibs, clues for a contest. Though in that case they all identified notable women in history who had used perfume. Oh, and they were all in verse ...

Ginger's #274: Pnmnevy va Gur Phefr bs Punyvba

No one's gone for my #152 yet, though I fear that may be because no one else read the book. :)

*

If the kid at the gas station hadn't taken her picture, would I have been born?

The name? No, that was whimsy as much as anything; that I got a job out of it was an accident. But I'm not the first to have fudged their resumé, nor the last.

Wbua Pbaabe, va Grezvangbe

and a pivotal point indeed!

The second is ... wild guess: Wnpx gur Tvnagxvyyre?

Bob (#293), Clifton (#295), isn't it more a cake than a 'cookie'?

This is indeed a time-sink. Must go, much on.

Mez @ 298: I was just WAITING for someone to bring up the pnxr/pbbxvr debate.

For me, fbzrguvat yvtug, fznyy, naq unaquryq gung'f qel rabhtu gb arrq qhaxvat vf ab pnxr.

Throroughly translated into American, vg'f n pbbxvr.

Michael I #291: Zngg va Rlr bs gur Jbeyq.

Xopher: Lrnu, V xabj gurl jbhyq unir orra nfgebybtref (sbyybjvat uvf fgne naq nyy), ohg gur fbat gung cbccrq vagb zl urnq jura V ernq lbhe ovg jnf "Jr Guerr Xvatf".

Yes.

But znqryrvarf qba'g arrq qhaxvat, gurl'er zbvfg rabhtu - bar qhaxf sbe cyrnfher! Va ubg pubpbyngr, va zl pnfr.

Gurersber vg'f n pnxr. Of the weird-shaped-cup variety. I'd like a decent erpvcr (in case that's a giveaway) if anyone has one, too.

Yes.

Not that I've seen. Myself, I keep thinking it's either 'N Fghql va Fpneyrg' or 'Nyyna Dhngreznva', but I don't think the relevant chap in either was named Scudder.

Makes me wonder whether anyone can come up with one of these where:

1) There are two paragraphs.

2) Each paragraph taken separately is a separate "butterfly".

3) The two paragraphs taken together are a third "butterfly".

Or n fgnyr zvav-zhssva.

Dave Bell @ #146 and #305 Is this Ohpuna'f Guvegl-Avar Fgrcf? (I can't remember the hero's name offhand, without cheating)

Xopher @ #315 Nhag Nqn Qbbz in Pbyq Pbzsbeg Snez - ("V fnj fbzrguvat anfgl va gur jbbqfurq")

Cebhfg qhaxrq uvf, va gung snzbhf cnentencu. Naq ntnva, gurer'f abguvat bs gung fvmr naq pbafvfgrapl gung Nzrevpnaf jbhyq pnyy n pnxr. N phcpnxr vf abg n pnxr rvgure, vg'f vgf bja pngrtbel.

Abj yrg'f fgneg qrsvavat jung jr zrna ol fpvrapr svpgvba ...

Bruce Cohen @ 313:

Ohg anzr nabgure guvat jvgu gung funcr naq pbafvfgrapl gung Nzrevpnaf jbhyq pnyy n zvav-zhssva.

Zna, nz V trggvat uhatel abj!

Say, perhaps, finally, THIS is Vogon poetry!

Ferqav Infugne, ol Fnxv, frrzf gb svg.

2) I didn't realize it would cause so much commotion. I was just trying to help that last egg hatch.

Say, perhaps, finally, THIS is Vogon poetry!

I don't think so; my ears aren't bleeding.

Thank you! That one was really nagging at me - I knew it was familiar from somewhere!

With that clue, the answer to #181 is Wnzrf Pylzna naq gur Qbaare Cnegl.

(Yes, I know you said that you'd withdrawn it; but surely you didn't think that would stop people wondering what the answer was?)

History claims I was hardly more than a baby.

Xopher (#315) I watched the 1995 film of Pbyq Pbzsbeg Snez only last night. I'd love to compare it to the BBC miniseries (1968! *creak*; feeling old — like the actor who was in both productions) if it's been released. The Hollywood version was good fun and enjoyable, but the BBC one, in my memory and with more time in hand, milked the weirdness and atmosphere more: "Fbzrguvat anfgl va gur jbbqfurq!". Colour TV only came to Australia ~1975 so, like an imdb commenter on it, I saw that version in B&W, which might've added to atmospherics.

Xopher@319: Actually the bit about the waters of the Styx is not Homeric. In the Iliad, Achilles does not have some magic invulnerability; he's just super-badass. In particular, in books 17 and 18 it's explicitly noted that Achilles cannot fight without armor -- when Achilles' regular armor is lost, Thetis has to go beg the forge-god for a new set.

I don't have proof, of course, but I'm convinced that somewhere along the way Achilles became conflated with the bronze robot that guarded Crete in the story of the Argonauts. It had blood of molten lead that was held in by a stopper in its heel.

Right. And the specific book is Qentbadhrfg.

The circumstances surrounding Nqnz's birth in Tbbq Bzraf.

But some people try to solve these even after others have; could you ROT-13 puzzle answers (or, as in this case, spoilers) please? Especially since abi did ask us to.

No one has solved my 317, which surprises me. Hint: Va gur abg-dhvgr-bevtvany irefvba, vg tbrf yvxr guvf:

V fubhyq arire unir tbar gb gur gurnger;
Gura V'q arire unir pbzr gb gur pbhagel.
Vs V arire unq pbzr gb gur pbhagel,
Znggref zvtug unir fgnlrq nf gurl jrer.

Yes.

Hint for #261: Gur fcrnxre vf onfvpnyyl n ivpgvz, uvf yvsr qrfgeblrq ol sbeprf sne ynetre guna uvz, naq zhpu bs gur fgbel vaibyirf uvf engure cnffvir npprcgnapr bs jung'f unccravat.

Hint for #262: Gur fcrnxre vf n trahvar ivyynva, creuncf nf rivy n punenpgre nf V'ir rire frra va svpgvba.

(Yes, mom and baby are sleeping, and the hospital does have wireless....)

So I think maybe I just don't know the ones you're doing there, unless you've obfuscated* them more than you think you have. 262 sounds at first like gur napvrag tbq jub rngf Serq'f fbhy va Natry, ohg gur erfg qbrfa'g svg. Ubool? Cebsrffvba? Shgher jvsr?

Or maybe I'm just being thick, and I'll feel really stupid when the answer is revealed.

*Yes, I do listen to "Car Talk." Why do you ask?

Hey, and Onolyba makes a cool rot13ed word!

I'd also noticed the essay. Actually, for anybody here who hasn't been following them - is there any such person? - I should give the series a plug:

Jo Walton has been writing an absolutely stunning series of essays on Tor.com since it opened last summer, about her re-readings of various science fiction and fantasy novels. They're wonderful essays, she finds thought-provoking things to pull out of each novel, and they are well worth treating as a guide to Best of the Genre. If you haven't been following along, it's worth going back and finding all of her re-read essays.

So far most of the books on her list which I hadn't read before or didn't own have gone on my Amazon wish list.

I'm just back from the used books section of my local library, where a copy of N Sver ba gur Qrrc sparked a "Damn, I said..." thought-review.

Onolyba caught my eye too! And it's one letter shy of being an anagram of the original word.

(Not quite "My hovercraft is full of eels," but nonetheless. . .)

Xopher @#342: Well worth remedying! I've been getting the "I don't read enough" feeling when the mainstream classics come up (except mythology), and the last few days I haven't been coming by here often enough to post any answers.

I think actually it's an Nfvzbi story where the protagonist is nppvqragnyyl fubg sbejneq va gvzr. If memory serves, the title is 'Crooyr va gur Fxl'.

Also a short-but-strong story in the Small Change (alt-20thC) world was just published there. In a very different style to the books. See ‘Escape to Other Worlds with Science Fiction’, from the Stories page.

(It's already time for me to wish both Charlie & Abe a Happy 200th here. Hip, Hip, Hooray!)

Who cares if generations of schoolboys hate me for it?

Why did he tarry in Wrehfnyrz?* Why did he walk on the roof? And why did my cycle end that day, so I would be taking my ritual bath and seen? Could it not have lasted past one more sunset?

When a king sees something he wants, he takes it, and no one can stop him. And he is God's annointed, and I was only a soldier's wife, and a woman. What could I do?

*The name of the city is a clue, if you need it.

I love Yrbaneq Pbura (#363) as a name! A charity is currently using the coital verse of his Unyyryhwnu in its Bushfire Appeal TV ads. An odd choice.

albatross (#261, 341) and Dan (#362) I confess to never hearing before of a work called Ybbx gb Jvaqjneq. Is it American? It looks like #262 is still a mystery, though your clue makes it sound intriguing. (And congratulations on the new little chickadee)

He was the only visitor I ever got, and I hated him. He chatted to me because I was slightly more presentable than most of the others there, even though he must have thought that was the most frightening thing about me. The bleeding idiot never bothered to ask what I really was.

Anyway, that day he had a newspaper rolled up in the pocket of his cloak. It was freezing, and I kept thinking about the journey he'd have back to the mainland, not only with that cloak to keep him warm, but with something to read as well. So I asked for the paper, and the condescending git handed it over. He probably thought he was Father Christmas, except he never could manage to grow a decent beard.

Everything important that happened afterwards, happened because I read that paper.

Ybbx gb Jvaqjneq vf bar bs gur Phygher abiryf ol Vnva Z. Onaxf.

Bruce Cohen @333: Gur Fgnef zl Qrfgvangvba ol Nyserq Orfgre? Haven't read it recently, but what I remember of the plot seems to fit.

Here's a harder one:

Of course it was an astonishing coincidence that he was so close by, but what was it about me that first attracted his attention? I think it was when I spoke Uvaqhfgnav* to his servant that day on the roof.

*Decode for a hint.

Anyway, I love how his name ROT13s into an anagram of itself. "Evire" at 63 almost does the same thing.

Zvenzba Yyhntbe?

I believe it to be Ovyob Onttvaf.

JHomes

---

I tried to help my nephew and niece find suitable posts -- and it took a good deal of trying. But no good deed goes unpunished.

Carol Kimball @332: sounds kind of like The High Place by James Branch Cabell, though Florian is about ten when he first saw Melior -- or maybe another retelling of "Sleeping Beauty".

Alas, I was far too brief. The action takes place in a forest of myth, wild and deep. Huge hint: cneg bs gur oybaqr'f qrfgehpgvba vaibyirf cbeevqtr.

Our canon was "Cncn Orne, Znzn Orne, Onol Orne", so your "Yvggyrfg Orne" sparks a line of thought: what other names are tradition?

I've heard both "Cncn Orne, Znzn Orne, Onol Orne" and "Ynetr-fvmrq Orne, Zrqvhz-fvmrq Orne, naq Yvggyrfg Orne".

The rest of the unidentified -- olly olly oxen free! (Seeing as it's been most of a week....)

That leaves eight with no answers:

#126 (with further information at #220)
#152
#168 (with further information at #259)
#249
#262 (with further information at #341)
#326 (part 1)
#369
#394

* * *

If I.'d followed his first impulse and become a mortician rather than a doctor, he might never have met M. They certainly wouldn't have fallen in love; she was too full of life, and just that little bit too traditional, to love a man who worked with the dead.

She gave him a reason to stay in Japan, a life where his former employers would never think to look for him, and a son and two daughters. How much of that was in the shopkeeper's plan all along, he's never known for sure.

Probably not. The series is OYRNPU, ol Abevnxv "Gnvgb" Xhob (nxn XHOB Gvgr), naq gur punenpgre vf Vffuva Xhebfnxv, sngure bs frevrf znva punenpgre Vpuvtb.

- but it does resolve my puzzlement about why the description apparently began in first-person and then changed to third, for which I thank you.

Yeah, I was wondering if anyone would have that problem. S'why I-the-poster put a dot after I.'s personal-name initial.