wamblings

Lovely the trees in the Greenwood so fair,
Lovely the spices that float in the air.
Peaceful the people who make it their home
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

The shadows emerge from the wold to the wood,
Shadows that carry the first hint of fear.
Why do they trouble our fair woodland home?
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

A maiden was walking the forest so green
Long was her life and much had she seen.
No shadows of fear could withstand her bright eyes
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Her history was rich and much had she seen.
Melian the Maia with love she had served.
True shadows indeed she had seen in her time
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Her world had been torn when her great king had died
And Melian from this world’s sad face had departed.
A new home she found in the wood they called green.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

For ages long she had wandered this vale
Remembering times when her lords she had served.
And healing the hurts in her heart full of love
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

But now shadows come to disturb her fair home
And valiantly brave, she patrols on its edge.
Bright is her sword and keen is its blade
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Beyond the next ridge awaits a strange sight.
In the edge of the wood roams one called a Periannath
O whence did he come to this woodland so fair?
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Old Tobold had wandered beneath the trees eaves
His fate had brought him beneath the green trees
Far had he wandered from the riverside
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Yet shadows had found him and pressed the attack
Dark creatures had forced his back against a rock
His weapon was lost and how could he win?
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

One weapon he had yet though weak it may seem.
His flute he pulled out and played a brave dream.
He played of bright sun on a full summer day.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

The shadows pressed closer, all seemed to be lost
They slowed at his music but still they came on.
Oh strength of the Valar this small one defend
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

To the top of the ridge his music did fly
And one heard it at last who was touched by its might
Her heart pulled her forward to face its own doom
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Then came maid Varlëa a to find the bright flute
That played in the shadows but sang of the sun.
In wonder her eyes beheld the Perian.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Her heart was true snared in the song of that flute
Her own voice she added to drive fear away.
To Elbereth she sang and the shadows all fled.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Tobold heard her voice and his heart was full glad
At her feet did he fall as one worships a queen
But raising him up she did kiss his gold brow
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

She followed him hence from the forest so fair
For many long years she was never seen there.
But his people they led o’er the mountains so high.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Long years but fleeting she loved by his side.
A lifetime for him in content did abide.
His children she bore and true love found its home.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Her joy became dimmed as she watched him grow old
A shadow of parting she saw on his brow.
And then he was gone and she never more loved
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

As a cloud o’re the face of the moon dims its light
So the light of her eyes was diminished
She laid him to rest in a Hobbity grave.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

A grandchild there was like an elf fair of grace
And from this tiny one she took comfort
And carried her off to her old woodland home
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

To fair woman hood, Mallea did grow
And the elves of the wood loved her dearly
And Linmir the green did take her for his wife.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Through many long years did the lovers enjoy
All the joys of the wood ‘neath the sky
And a child they bore of fair elven like
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Hellimân the Blessed was their fair issue called
And he grew to a beauty of manhood
Yet fair heart was captured as should have been spared.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

For Vanya Greenleaf in her father’s fair house
Had never yet known any mortal.
And her innocence great set a seal on her doom.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Though her father said nay and her mother gainsaid
Fair Vanya would not be denied,
But gave all her love to a mortal half elf.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Still all seemed quite well and the hobbits stayed hale
And aged not nor suffered of sickness.
But the gift of Eru within them was set.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

A fair son was born who they named Aldanna
And a vision of elf child was he.
And he grew to manhood in the midst of the wood.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Then at last fell the doom, Mallea passed away
Outside of the circle of Arda.
Though ne’er had she aged in the hall of the wood.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

And now it was seen what the heartbreak would be
For all those who hearts were fair given
In love to an elf who inside was a hobbit.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

Then Varlëa did repent of the sorrow she’d brought
On the people who lived in that woodland
And taking Aldanna she left there for good.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

To an old Hobbit hole, in the side of a hill
Varlëa did take Aldanna.
To his people to live out the rest of his life.
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

A blessing she gave to the get of her love
That music would always be with them.
Then she rode right away and was never more seen
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

On a palfrey of grey to the Havens she rode
Bowed was her head, and weary her heart
And never again on these shores was she seen
This side of the sea, this side of the sea.

You know those days where you wake up and go through the motions of living yet your head never quite joins you?

Last Thursday (Valentines Day) I ate chocolate.  Not just a taste either.  I ate several tiny candy bars.  Now I know better than to do that but I did it anyway.  About once a year I fall completely off the wagon, usually around Christmas.  This year I made it through Christmas just fine, only to fall for Valentines candy.  Stupid!  Stupid!

I could blame it on the husband for bringing home three big bags of chocolate.  I could but I won’t.  He didn’t tie me down and force me to eat chocolate.  Nope, no one to blame but myself.

 
So here I sit a week later, still fighting off my chocolate hangover.  Semi-comatose.  The lights are on, but no one is home.

I've completely revamped my story beginning.  I think it is better.  Well I hope it is anyway.  Now I just need to come up with almost 4000 more words to chase these with.  :P

Dust Fairies

Grandfather is dead.  His solicitor found me hiding out in Scotland, researching Scottish ancestry for my next book, and generally trying to avoid the media hubbub stemming from Simone’s death. 

            We picked up the promised tickets at the airport in Glasgow and headed for Alderney.  It wasn’t till we were settled in the hired car and headed out towards Grandfather’s manor that Jason finally began to spill the thoughts he’d been chewing on since I’d told them.

            “Grandfather was rich?”

            “I suppose you’d say so.”

            “But he never did anything for us.”

            “Perhaps not directly, but he did pay for my education.”

            “But you haven’t seen him since you were little?”

            “No.”

            “Why?”

            I took a deep breath.  I’d never told them what I remembered of my early life.  “There was trouble between Simone and him.”

            “Why would he hold that against you, against us?  He’s never even seen us.”  He turned his face to the window and rode in silence several miles.  “What’s wrong with us Mom?  Dad, Simone, Grandfather; why don’t they want us?”

            Justin grabbed Jason around the neck and rubbed his fist in his hair.  “It’s your goofy looks.  Folks take one look at you and run the other way.”

            Jason grinned and punched his mirror twin in the shoulder as we passed between the gateposts and started up the tree lined drive.

The house appeared deserted.  No one answered our ringing of the bell.  Justin tried the knob and the door opened easily.  The years seemed to melt away as I led the way across the hall, through a parlor turned library and into Grandfather’s study. 

The room was even darker than I remembered.  Medieval paintings and archaic weapons still graced the walls.  There seemed to be even more shelves than I remembered and all were loaded with weapons and pieces of steel armor tucked between leather bound books.  A fancy pipe stand atop his roll-top desk held seven pipes, some obviously well used and others decorative.

I sat down in the heavy arm chair and gave myself over to memories, borne on wings of pipe tobacco impregnated leather.

***

“When I grow up I’m going to be a knight.”  Laramie stood in the chair, holding up Sir Teddy so he could also see the painting of Sir George slaying the dragon.  “And you,” he looked straight at Larissa, “will be the princess.”

Grandfather leaned back in his desk chair as he tamped tobacco into his pipe and set match to it, drawing air until a thin wisp of smoke ascended like a prayer offered on some heathen alter.

Larissa stretched on tiptoe to reach the worn copy of Castles and Crests from its place on Grandfather’s bookshelf, between Sir Mallory’s Le Morte Darthur and a steel gauntlet.   Hugging it to her chest she carried it to Grandfather and laid it in his lap.

Grandfather reached down to the little girl, lifting her up into his lap.  Motioning to Laramie to come stand by the chair, he laid the pipe on a little stand on his desk and allowed the book to fall open to its accustomed place.  His finger traced lovingly the lines of his family crest.

“This is your heritage, children.  The outer shield of Azure was earned by Stanwick in 1056 for his part in putting down the Stoneyford rebellion.  Azure is the color of strength and loyalty.   The small griffins bespeak valor and vigilance.  In 1181 Laird Stanwick of Stoneyford sent eight sons to the aid of Richard the Lionheart, valiant knights every one.  This,” his finger lovingly traced the red scarf that crossed the shield, “knight’s scarf is gules to represent military strength.  The sons of Laird Stanwick covered themselves in glory.  Three gave up their lives in battle for their Duke.”

As Grandfather’s finger moved to the next element, Larissa took up the family history.  “The seventh son of Laird Stanwick performed for Duke Richard a task of valor that was rewarded with the Lordship of Ald’ney,” she stumbled over the word, “and the inner green shield of hope, loyalty and love and with the flag of Ald’ney in the corner.”

“Vert, Princess, vert.”  Grandfather took up the tale.  “The crest of Alderney contains the lion of courage so this symbol was added to the center of the shield.  This is your true heritage, little ones, remember it always.”

History lesson over, Grandfather closed the book and laid it on his desk.  “Off to play now, Minikins.”  Larissa slid from his lap and headed for the nursery, followed closely by her brother.

* * *

The vision was so real that I rose from the chair and turned to follow the children from the room.  Only then did it hit me that a bookcase now stood where the door should be.  I stepped back into the former sitting room to discover more bookcases where I remembered the primary door to the nursery.  One could imagine the door had never been there, that my twin and I had never lived in this house, never spent happy hours together in our large playroom just off the study and parlor.

“Boys, help me move this bookcase.”  I had to see if the door was really there.  Was I ever really that little girl spouting off family history like Justin reciting baseball statistics? 

            Moving the heavy bookcase away from the wall had been about all that we could do, but behind it was the door, just as I remembered.  The oddly shaped door knob was missing, leaving only a hole.  The ornately carved trim I remembered around the door had been removed.

            I took a deep breath and stepped towards the door.  Silently it swung toward me.  Startled, I stepped back, frightened by the momentary sense of a lingering presence, beckoning me to enter. 

I turned to the boys, tempted to run, but they were already absorbed in Grandfather’s eclectic collection of antiques. 

What ghosts waited beyond that door?  Two tentative steps and I stood looking into the old playroom.  Dust motes floated aimlessly on a stray sunbeam.

I started writing poetry back in December of 2004.  Today I discovered that most of one thread has been lost in an archiving accident and I can only hope that I have a copy somewhere on flash.  Anyway, I will post my poems (and some response poems) over here and if you stumble onto my thread and want to respond with some poetry of your own, please feel free.

Weebs