Radiant in white lace, satin, and minimal underwear, Ms Boyne
MuddyWater River married Mr. Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser in a moving ceremony
officiated by Reverend Roberta Burns, at Nitshill Church of Scotland, during a
glorious Weekend Wedding Festival in sunny Glasgow.
Family ol’ pal Saint-Hildegard-of-Bingen of Kentucky, USA
offered a stirring rendition of the Ave Maria during the signing of the
register, which was not usual for a Protestant wedding, but if it was good
enough for the bride’s BFF’s first wedding, it was good enough for the bride.
Ms River-Fraser wore her ol’ mither’s pearl necklace and carried
a bouquet of fresh ivory roses. Her headpiece of pearls and roses accentuated
her flowing chestnut brown locks. Her bridal wardrobe included a jacket made
from the Official Tartan of the Province of Manitoba, Canada.
Mr. Fraser was resplendent in his family heirloom kilt and grey
waistcoat under a black wedding jacket with ivory rose boutonniere. He trimmed
his hair and beard, and bathed for the occasion, paying particular attention to
World-renown couturière, Madame Outlanderedandoverhere of
The House of Mother of Dolls UK, designed and tailored the Frasers’ wedding
King of Men, Laird Jamie Fraser of Lallybroch in
Inverness-shire, Mr. Fraser’s godson, attended his godfather.
Sassenach, Lady SindyClaire Fraser, née Beauchamp, Mr. Fraser’s
goddaugther-in-law, attended Mrs. River-Fraser. The House of Mother of Dolls UK
also created the younger Frasers’ ensembles.
The couple’s beloved wee cheeties Rerun and Belle served as ring
bearer and flower girl, respectively. They were bored out of their minds and
slept through most of the ceremony.
Several wild animals native to Manitoba, Canada completed the
wedding party, adding a je ne sais quoi flavour to the day.
RCMP Sergeant Diane “Ginger of The Mounties” Ferguson commanded
the elite security team. In keeping with the spirit of Canada, no shots were
fired and no one raised their voice.
Mrs. River-Fraser, master lion tamer, was born and raised on the
Canadian Prairie. She was educated on the banks of the river bearing her name,
and later earned a PhD in Classical Bullshit from the University of Manitoba.
Mr. Fraser, warrior and sword dancer, was born and raised near
Beauly in Inverness-shire. He was educated at Beaufort Castle, and later earned
a PhD in Cursin’ & Sword Fightin’ from the University of Edinburgh.
Guests of the Frasers enjoyed a Meet & Greet Brunch and
Shinty Shinny Tournament on the Festival grounds prior to the ceremony.
Later that evening, the party rocked on during the reception,
including a seven-course dinner, a talent show, dancing, and a Manitoba Social Midnight
Supper. A good time was had by all.
Very few guests’ names appeared in the next morning’s headlines.
The Frasers continue to delight in each other’s company during a
honeymoon trip to undisclosed locations.
They maintain homes in Scotland and Canada, and a cool and
groovy summer home is currently under construction somewhere in between.
The Frasers wish to thank all People of Earth who travelled to
Glasgow to celebrate with them, and to help make Sumday, December 32, 2016, a
day that could never be duplicated.
No animals were harmed during the
production of this wedding.
Hello, I have a question about the legitimizing of bastards. If the parents of bastard children marry after the birth of the child does the child automatically get the father's name or does he or she have to be legitimized by royal decree. The case of Elaena Targaryen and the Oakenfist can be used as an example. Thanks
Thanks for the question, Anon.
I mean, there’s no example of this happening in the books, so … yeah. Given the stigma against bastards so prevalent in (most of) Westeros, and the strict procedures of legitimization extant, I would presume that any child born out of wedlock would have to be legitimated by royal decree, even if his or her parents later wed. That being said, of course, I could imagine that noblemen and women might try to avoid this scenario altogether by wedding quickly after discovery of an unplanned pregnancy, avoiding a bastard birth altogether (the way that Cersei speculates that “a bastard in the belly” would explain why Sylva Santagar was quickly and quietly married off to the aged Lord Estermont, though she’s probably wrong about the reasoning).
This scenario sounds very much like the founding of the House of Beaufort. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster and third son of King Edward III engaged in a several-year affair with the governess of his elder daughters, having four children together. After the duke’s second wife died, John married Katherine; Richard II, John’s nephew and then-King of England, legitimized the children (all of whom had been born before the marriage), but Henry IV - John’s eldest legitimate son - barred his half-siblings from ascending the throne in their own right. (Of course, if you’re Henry Tudor - great-great-grandson of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford via his mother, Margaret Beaufort - such provisions might prove rather less than binding.) They were given the surname “Beaufort” after a French castle owned by John of Gaunt, further distinguishing them from their legitimate-born kin.
“I havena been completely honest with ye about my family, Sassenach.” What do you mean? “My father… He was a bastard. Acknowledged by his father, Lord Lovat, but a bastard nonetheless. And your grandmother? Lord Lovat’s kitchen maid. She raised my father at Beaufort Castle.”
We left Beaufort Castle 100 strong and traveled towards Crieff to join forces with Murtagh and the Lallybroch Frasers. But our numbers dwindled along the way. Many who resented being ordered by Lord Lovat from their families and farms deserted our ranks. We’d sent Young Simon to persuade them to return with the promise of land when the war was over. It gave them something to fight for, to die for. If it went according to plan, all would meet up in Perth to join the prince’s army.
Shared from another site:
For people having trouble with Ep 208 and how quick things seem to happen, here’s and interesting BTS perspective from Diana’s CompuServe forum:
“Definitely not Anne’s fault. (And a good question–thanks for asking that, as I was going to write an FB post later, explaining just how scripts are put together–and what happens to them after _that_…!)
Essentially, a scriptwriter (on this show) gets handed a chunk of material and has to try to make a coherent story arc out of it. You have some leeway in how you do that, but by no means total freedom–and what you do is very much constrained by the material allotted to you, _and_ by decisions that have already been made about what happens in other episodes (there were several things that I did in my script that I had to change because of changes that happened in other scripts, but I won’t talk about those until 211 has aired).
I was lucky (and Ron was generous) in that he gave me an episode whose material ran very much parallel to the book, so I didn’t have to make wild reaches or try to reconcile events that didn’t actually go well together. I don’t know _what_ I would have done (other than argue in a mannerly way) if they’d given me the disparate things that occur in Episode 208.
I mean, in this episode, you have three separate storylines that basically have nothing to do with each other–one of them a complete insertion that doesn’t exist at all in the source material, and another an adaptation of an extant event from a distant part of the story, but substantially revised and awkwardly juxtaposed. And the sole storyline that _is_ coherent and (more or less) well based on the source material is obliged to jump like a game of hopscotch over the other pieces.
And none of those storylines are Anne’s invention; they were just handed to her with a rough flow-chart of events that came out of the conversations and collaborations of the Writers Room. Add in the necessity for things that happen in this episode to tie into things that go on in later episodes (not telling you what those are) and you have a handful of spaghetti to work with. She did a really good job, all things considered.
And by "all things,” I don’t just mean handling disparate elements in limited time and engineering logical connections among them. I mean the sorts of things that happen when a film actually reaches production.
I won’t go into the whole thing, but in Anne’s original script, Laoghaire _and_ Mrs. Fitz came to look after Colum, and there were several small scenes (and one larger one) in which Mrs. Fitz emcees the meetings between Claire and Laoghaire (and, I think–don’t recall all the details–may be in on the plot to give Young Simon a temporary backbone). I didn’t like the inclusion of the Laoghaire plot at all (and told them so), but it worked much more smoothly and believably with Mrs. Fitz.
But. As we (the crew chiefs, the director, the AD, the liaison person (who talks to the National Trust and the proprietors of locations), the writers and the head of UK production) were on a bus for three days, visiting locations and running through all the scenes that happened in each one…Anne and I were sitting in front of the producer, who was (always is) on the phone continuously, arranging things. And for two days, he’d been trying to arrange for the various part-time actors to show up as needed on the schedule.
And…we had Dean Castle (aka Beaufort Castle) for four days—couldn’t move those four days, couldn’t add any more days. And (as the producer told us that night), Mrs. Fitz was available on one of those days, and Laoghaire was available on two of those days–but they weren’t the _same_ days. Both actresses were working other jobs, and neither could change. There was just no possible way of getting them together–and they had (I think) five scenes together in Ep. 8.
At this point, I could sense Anne turning white (though she’s been in the business for twenty years, and has had this sort of thing happen before, I’m sure it’s never pleasant)–she was going to have to completely rewrite and/or junk those scenes to work with Laoghaire alone–and do it that night.
_Then_ the Director of Photography pipes up and says we have another problem: it’s winter. That means the usable light is gone by 3:30 in the afternoon. “You’ve got seven scenes scheduled for this one day (at Dean),” he said. “I can only shoot four of ‘em. Which ones you want?”
You begin to see the dimensions of the problem, I’m sure. Some scenes had to be cut, some combined, some re-engineered to flow with the rest of the script–and done pretty much instantly, without more than a few hours for thought. I think–from my privileged position next to her that Anne did a heroic job with it.“
So who is in charge of schedules then?? cause it seems there is MAJOR disconnect.