Not doing NaNoWriMo but I'm writing thousands of words.

I'm writing the end of my time-travel novel for early teens and find it's very difficult to curb the excess of enthusiastic writing. Since Saturday the 1st November I've added some 14 thousand words though like the unedited extract below, they may or may not be kept.

The words were very hazy. A different voice from Aran’s dream. This one soft and friendly.
“Rise now, for the sun is already risen in the sky.”
Orla. He blinked his eyes to clear them of matter, and to get rid of the inevitable stinging from the again smoky atmosphere. An excitement surged through him he couldn’t quite explain.
“Wash quickly. Gypta and my step-sons await you, after you break your fast.”
Brian’s feet twitched alongside his chin since they’d slept head to toe. Flickering lights relieved the gloom. He realised the died-down fires were being revitalised.
“Waken up, sleepy head!” He splashed a few droplets of cold water towards Brian after he’d struggled over to the wash bowl. “Hurry up. We’re going out with Gypta and her brothers. Maybe we’ll get to do a mock battle with real swords.”
“I won’t be any good at killing anybody, except you maybe.” Brian grinned as he struggled out from the cosy covers. “So all that happened yesterday was sort of real?” He looked to Aran for confirmation.
“Well, we’re still here aren’t we?” What other reply could he give?
The noises outside told them most of the roundhouse occupants were already up and preparing for the day. They could hear the hullabaloo of men collecting their weapons from the stack and saying their goodbyes. Mapon noisily took his leave, thanking Balbath for his hospitality.
“Best get ready now or we’ll maybe miss something.” Aran hustled Brian into action. After that token splash of water around his eyes he struggled into his clothes. Brian followed suit.
By the time they went out to the fireside, Fianna was already there. “Sleep well you two?” she asked brightly.
Brian glared at her. Aran knew it was just one of those little things Brian hated about his sister: her early morning optimism always riled him. Brian looked at the bread and water she handed him, his mood seeming to cheer up. A funny thought looked like it had just popped into his head. He made a theatrical face as he flapped the bread in front of Aran’s nose and danced about like a monkey. “I’d rather have a bowl of Coco-pops! Oh yeah!”
“What is this you are singing?” Gypta’s sudden question made Brian drop his bread.
“It’s nothing, Gypta.” Aran was hasty to cover up because, again, none of them had heard Gypta approaching them. They still hadn’t clocked onto the fact that the earthen floor deadened the sound of footsteps. “Brian’s always making up silly songs. Don’t pay him any attention.”
“Eat quickly then,” Gypta ordered. “My brothers are waiting.”
“Sounds good to me,” Aran mumbled through a mouthful of water-soggy bread.
Out of earshot, Brian nudged him. “Today’s guards?” he whispered, looking over at two strapping warriors who waited at the doorway.
Aran shrugged his shoulders, his grin barely suppressed. “They’re maybe not needed now! I’m special, remember?”
“You special?” Brian laughed back. “But they don’t know what I know about you, you fake!”
“Yes,” Aran agreed. “Though I still know more about them than you do, don’t I?”
Brian gave up, realising he wouldn’t win the argument. It was true , Aran was confident he did know more about these strange people, though it looked like they were all going to find out a lot more when they went on the tour.