My Elvish

The walking stick

My daughter's brother-in-law, Chris Garza ask me to carver a wizardry old man's face on his walking stick for him. So here goes my next project.

Nasilian Judge

Ember Marie Garza

My daughter is having our Third GRANDchild!!!! A daughter to be name Ember Marie Garza.

Crafting the Voices of of my head!

In my epic novel THE NEPHILIM AGE, the Elven main character Fayendar Kyon leaves the cultic corrupt religion of his youth and finds true love in the adventure as well. I am in the process of writing and devising THE WATCHER's BOOK (which is the "Bible") and the Order of the Brotherhood (which is the religion). As I do more I will strive to publish more here on my blog.

Mike Cope

Here is a drawing I did as a Birthday/ Christmas gift for my oldest and dearest friend. I've known Mick since Sixth grade and still to this day love him as a brother! Lol besides, what do you do with a person like him who know where you've hid all the bodies, lol lol lol 

Working on my Scroll box

The Fool

   For eighteen years Sucram was called a fool by those unlearned of him.  But pitied by those who had enough empathy to learn his ways.  He was a Nasilian man with no tattoos for he was unable to speak any more than "yes" or "no" and his answers were not always correct in the normal manner of others. At twelve years of age most Nasilian boys were eager to receive their adult tattoo of their family history as a sign being a part of a greater community. But Sucram only cared for himself or did not understand concepts like community. He would scream and yell and undress himself before others in the most inappropriate of times,  his anger got the best of him, and mostly at those who did not try to understand him or his needs. 

   He was a thief.  Covered in cuts, scars and was a half starved vagrant boy.

 Wandering  the streets of Lindol was how the merchant Bartal Al-bejnal found the unkept boy.  Having lost his own wife and son to a tent fire, Barthal accepted Sucram as his own.

   Training the boy to care for himself was difficult if not impossible at times.  But Barthal lovingly did so without service from others.  He lived in the tent village of Slaveth, just outside the nearly abandoned Elven city of Mithar. But Barthal had acquired the boy upon a visit while selling his jewelry wares to the people of Orid and Lindon.

   While with Barthal the boy was tame as one would say.  His wants of yes, yes, yes or no, no, no were best measured out by Barthal as most others gave no care to understand him. It seemed Sucram was a boy trapped in a man's body or a demon afflicted fool he was more often pronounced.  Either way Sucram was a man tormented in the mind and no Physician anywhere had the herbs or knowledge to bring healing to him.

   With great effort did he grow into a man, but ever at the side of Barthal who cared for him.  Yet as time has a way of passing on its fate, sadly Barthal died an old man.

   At his death the people laid stones upon his body as a sign of respect, near the edge of the ever growing desert of Eriduah's east.  Sad farewells were given.

   Sucram became severely agitated that Barthal was not around or mainly that others did not understand his needs or wants like the understood their own. 

   After awhile those who tried to care as best they could for kindness sake could no longer care for such a one as Sucram.  For he needed all the time.  Before long even the tribal elders of Slavath grew exhausted with his very name in their ears.  Sucram was thrown before the judgement seat of his grace, Mairithan The Second.

   Silently the Nasilian Judge watched the uncontrollable jerking fits that would so often overcome Sucram without warning.  All day was he watched even as he ate like a ravenous animal gorging itself as onlookers were fearful to behold.  Fit the Judge saw with his own eyes that the tales of the mad man were true.  Mairithan The Second felt compassion in his heart, and yet bewilderment of what to do for the creature placed before him.

   Near nightfall the Judge gave comment to all who witnessed as he the tru actions of the disturb fellow in tattered clothes, "Call forth a midwife to care or him in a house with food and drink as he will, and cloth him better as you may. Guards lay hold with care to do him no harm." Then turning turning his the messenger he ordered, "Bruth-yanel, send word on ahead to The Lord of Mithar that on the morrow shall I bear his case before them for advice or aid."

   The following day, two weeks after the Great Elven Departure from Middle-Earth, did that party and their cause come before that remnant left behind at the Grey Havens, called Mithar.  Beneath a grand, multi-arched pavilion that stood beside the Tower called Varlendur was the council gathered together. Lord Vendumar, Baalyick, and NolMithlon the tall, guarded by Legandriel and Nuthcorlan. I, Adormir the son of Beridan did service as the lord's scribe.  The rest of he Elven Watchers gathered about to observe and measure the deliberation of unfolding events.

   As the Nasilian Judge, Mairithan The Second laid the case of Sucram before them, and his plight of what should be done, The Noble Lady Lyreah came closer. She ignored the caution of the guards as she gave intense heed and observed the un tattooed man before her.

   Disregarding her, Mairithan The Second continued, "Just yesterday did this man strike the very midwife whose charge it was to care or him! So badly beaten was she then even now she recoils in fear of his as tame as you behold him now.

   "His father a wealthy merchant, Barthal by name was the only one who could control him.  Alas, even he has passed away from among the living and no other has stepped forward so willing as he to temper or care for this man called Sucram."

  All the while that his life's account was being laid bear and considered by others, Sucram cared not. He stood the fully disinterested of the whole affair and either burst into laughter of everyone standing about asking about him or he would fall upon the ground and cry from boredom in an angry fit.

  As the three Mitharian leaders conferred among themes elves as to the odd case set before them, they even added the possibility of housing Sucram in the newly occupied dungeon of Varlendur.

   Suddenly the Lady Lyreah stepped forward with her outstretched hand and called his name. As he smiled several yeses at her, Lyreah laid hold of his shoulder and they both became as rigid stone! 

   The guards ran forward to catch them before the fell apart onto the ground.  The gapping silence of all the gathering was broken as Lord Vendumar leapt from his seat and exclaimed, "Behold the ma!"

  For in that moment not only was there total awareness upon face and in his eyes, but all his scares were gone as well.

   Mairithan looked upon the man once called deranged and demanded of him, "Speak man! If ever there were a time to honor yourself let it be now!"

  To the shock of all Sucam calmly replied, "What would your Grace have me to reply?" His voice was unfamiliar, confident and strong as all eyes looked upon him in fearful amazement!

   By now the uninjuried and smily Lyreah stood fully recovered as well, when Mairithan added, "Seems he is free!"

  But Vendumar quickly injected a reminder of an oath sworn allegiance upon his people. So Mairithan asked the healed man before everyone there gathered, "Oh man of the street what say you? Where shall you venture?"

  Then forgetting all others he turned his eyes lovingly upon the Elven princess and softly said, "If she would but command me I am her loyal servant for always." Then dropped to both knees, kissed her hand and bowed his head.

   But the Lady Lyreah knew full well the deceits of both parties upon the Oaths taken and said to Sucarm, as he complied, "Rise. If you are truly mine as you swear and the faces of these gathered here do attest in their agreement that you are mine to command. Then I release you of any bond, made now or when you were not yourself and others pressed their will upon you. Go in peace ever in love."

   Looking about that silent gathering of nobles Sucram acknowledged, "Blessed Lady for evermore unto me shall you always be.

   "Having played the part of the fool my entire life as others beheld my unstable mind, I am indeed free.  I tried hard to be like others.  With no tattoos of my own I would deeply cut myself both day and night. No tattoos upon me meant I had no family history to call my own. I had no family , and no one to care for me in those bleeding days of pain. But now that I am whole, and free to find myself shall I go upon the and explore its truths for myself." With that he left Mithar unhindered and never seen in those parts thereafter.

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Shimzabar

   The insightful tale of NomJoleeth Shimzabar is one of encouragement and personal triumph to anyone who has ever felt that there was no purpose, no higher power or that they had been forgotten and totally discarded in life. For those are just lies.  Even in the darkest of times there will always shine a shaft of light beaming hope for the hope-less.
   NomJoleeth Shimzabar was just one of the twelve sons of Joleeth, a lonely woman of the night with no husband; and every son had a different father.  Love was not enough to feed all the mouths Joleeth brought into the world.  Nor was she the best teacher to illustrate how to deal with life's adventures.  Shimzabar and his brother raised themselves best they could on the rugged streets of the ancient city of Lindon.  A crossroads place between the Iron Mountain of the northwest and the growing deserts of the east of Eriduah after the shambles of the Great War of the Ring of power.  Thirty years before the Great Departure of elvendom from Middle-Earth, the population of Lindon began to change with the arrival of he settling Bedouin people.  Leaving their tents behind for brick homes.  The city showed its own sets of challenges to overcome for the likes of Joleeth.

   Shimzabar stowed away on a hip he invested all his hopes in that would lead him out and beyond The Great Sea. However as it made sight of Mithar's harbor the boy was discovered, badly beaten, and thrown overboard.  The laughing fisherman shock their heads at the drowning rat of just twelves years old.
   Mithar had seen its own swelling share of desert Bedouins entering the city as well.  Another child of the street was just another face in the crowd, was a common phrase among the disillusioned.