Fenn és lenn : regény

The narrator presents his very first attempt at fiction as a gift to his mother, an honest confession that also serves as a map for the listener. The story opens on a steep, windswept ridge south of Budapest, where the river Rónán rushes past a jagged cliff crowned by the ruin‑like tower of an old border fortress. From this dramatic landscape springs a tale that blends the quiet life of a newly founded town with the echo of centuries‑old Ottoman and Magyar encounters.

Within the town, yellow‑plastered houses line straight streets that lead to a Gothic‑styled church and a stately manor perched on the hill. The manor, once a watchtower for the southern gate of the kingdom, is now a silent witness to legends of the last Turkish bey, Good Ali, and the lingering sigh of forgotten battles. As the narrator walks among the villagers, he invites listeners to feel the mixture of pride, superstition, and the slow, steady pulse of everyday life that surrounds the ancient stones.