Elium

THE CROSSING OF ELIUM

   From the sea port of Kathos, a fisherman name E-li-um came out of a horrific storm at sea unharmed.  He told the town's people, "For twenty years or more I have cast my nets and always been more blessed than most, and always have I shared the bounty with all.  But I tell you now in no uncertain terms never again shall I return to that cold mistress for I am done with her I tell you, done!  I alone have just barely survived the worst of the worst storms to happen upon men.  I drifted ashore to tell the tale of thirty lost souls!"
   The wives of the lost men wailed at the news and drew their babes in arms closer as his words made them all widows and orphan in a single breath.  After the soaked wretch had been dried and fed and his story retold some more, a man asked, "Elium, where does a fisherman the likes of you go when they no longer fish or sail?
   Somberly he answered, "To the city and become lost in her sea of people himself."

   The day Elium arrived at the southern gate of Mithar the market chaos had just been closed to outsiders.  For those not initiated into her Tower cult were not allowed re-entrance once they were shut out.  Elium was no Mitharian, and he smelled of Kathosian fish.  Yet the tent dwellers of Slavath welcomed the stranger as one of their own and took piety after hearing his tale of shipwrecked woes.
   At dusk Elium sat amid a group of men encircling a campfire while eating a meal.  Now, beyond the fire light Elium saw the figure of Diacal, the Captain of his lost ship.  At once Elium jumped to feet with glee in seeing him.  Running about to converse he found the Captain was no where to be found nor even in the whole of the village in which Elium searched.  Throughout the long night he sought the visage of his sea companion with no fruit from his efforts and in exhaustion collapsed upon a bed of pelts.
   At daybreak the sole of Elium's feet were being kicked.  He was awakened by Captain Diacal, "Get up fool of a man and go into the city.  Seek out one named Ma-drew of the Third House, for he has great need in meeting you."  When Elium arose and gathered his thoughts, again he saw his Captain was no where to be found.

   At the hour the market gates were open Elium of Kathos inquired as to where the Third House was located.  Coming to the tower of Varlendur, he knocked upon the door of the third House of Learning, "I was -- instructed -- to find out a man called Madrew."
   "I am Madrew and most blessed in meeting you my lord, Elium of Kathos!"
   "I am no lord, just a lowly fisherman who lost all his companions at sea. The shadowed specter of my Captain commanded me to find you.  How is it you know my name?"
   "I told the Lord of the Dead that I lost my faith in the Tower's Brotherhood.  Then an angel came to me in a dream, and said you would seek me out.  Now I know for certain that God alone answers prayers.  Upon having done so, I am to answer yours in return by sending you on the quest of what you seek."
   "What is it I seek?"
   "To answer that you must go to the Cave of Marrow.  Along the northern side of Kinderval's forest, on the southern side of the Blue Mountains you will see the cave's opening on the third peak.  There on the third day Ha-thuk will find you."
   "Hatuk?"
   "The One Who Answers.  It was he who told me of you."


............................

WHEN he returns home his ship mates are waiting for him in an inn called The Singing Quail, except the Captain whose body washed ashore, and Elium was thought to have been lost at sea.
 

 

.....

The Turning War

The grim and horrid creatures of the night

came out in force, armed to fight
with jagged swords, long spears and shields,
they rushed upon the horses in open fields.

The campaign lasted for days but became
weeks of spilling blood in vain,
as hundreds more from mountains poured
with vile tempers to settle their score.

The goblins of Kinderval’s dark smell
mingled with barbarous men who fell;
themselves both lock in battle against,
Mithar’s farmer’s sheltering-stone fence.

The King, Priests and saliors all rallied
beneath their banners, rushed the valley
and fought with all they had in hand
unto the last of kin, they vowed to stand.

Sholthrax, leader of the Goblins
came before the face of Lord Calvin
chieftain of the decimated tent city,
whose men gave their life in plenty.

They fought, both long and fierce,
matching swing for swing, not pierced;
that those about them, friend and foe
alike, encircled them to watch each blow.

For an hour till dusk they bravely fought
finally winning first blood the other bought,
balancing skill for skill, yearning to slay
the other’s weakness sought that day.

As the sun set on that seventh week
a distant horn rang out so bleek
as yet another called forth upon that field;
louder they rang for a champion to be killed.

The man cursed the beast before him
as the goblin anguished his missing limb,
for their bloody dance unwavered went;
till the man’s severed leg finally bent.

In that very moment, when the sun fell
Lord Calvin gave an encouraged yell,
but Sholthrax cut short his fate
as his goblins headed for the city’s gate.

With the defeat of Slavath’s Judge,
the goblins killed those who refused to budge;
breaching the walls, pulling them down
ever seeking to unseat Mithar’s crown.

Within reach of that certain goal
their forces grew ever more bold;
ravaging in brutality, unmeasured in death,
even nursing mothers were felled to last breath.

Suddenly, then the tides did turn
as a great horde of arms – burned
to life – in discovery against the victor’s sway
a grave calamity was averted that rainy day.

Lord Valenfay, great grandson of Lorin,
triumph their champion at war’s end,
meeting the dwarf lord’s gathering might,
upon the battlefield just in sight.

Then without cause or reason, they all died
for each goblin fell against his brother's side
leaping from great height or on their blade
forfeiting their hard won victory that way.

A hollow celebration for Mitharians lords
as seven thousand, eight hundred lay in gore,
wasted lives for a wasted cause gone mad
weeping widows, and fatherless young all sad.

Yet a great following was mustered about
that usurper lord who sought another rout
as three hundred named him their lord king,
others still banished them with a vile sting.

The old cultic mindset had won out
over the dejected victors, no matter how stout,
departing to Ipstha’s eastern divided mount;
where the dwarven years have lost count.

Through the ages of deviling hard stone,
residing deep in the earth’s hallow bone
sheltering down, and away from the world
as loners, cast in their own mysterious whirl.

That usurper king, exiled his kin to follow
a new hope, their pride did swallow
as they fled, up the Luhun’s River
they never complained, shrank nor shivered.

The heartland of Eriduah, once was green
but a desert waste, had engulfed that dream;
its halflings, vanished to other parts
for the world had changed their happy hearts.

Valenfay’s people left the bitter behind,
those who felt betrayed, were unkind;
yet the splintered remnant who stayed
under their judges, new beginnings they made.



..

The Turning War

The grim and horrid creatures of the night

came out in force, armed to fight
with jagged swords, long spears and shields,
they rushed upon the horses in open fields.

The campaign lasted for days but became
weeks of spilling blood in vain,
as hundreds more from mountains poured
with vile tempers to settle their score.

The goblins of Kinderval’s dark smell
mingled with barbarous men who fell;
themselves both lock in battle against,
Mithar’s farmer’s sheltering-stone fence.

The King, Priests and saliors all rallied
beneath their banners, rushed the valley
and fought with all they had in hand
unto the last of kin, they vowed to stand.

Sholthrax, leader of the Goblins
came before the face of Lord Calvin
chieftain of the decimated tent city,
whose men gave their life in plenty.

They fought, both long and fierce,
matching swing for swing, not pierced;
that those about them, friend and foe
alike, encircled them to watch each blow.

For an hour till dusk they bravely fought
finally winning first blood the other bought,
balancing skill for skill, yearning to slay
the other’s weakness sought that day.

As the sun set on that seventh week
a distant horn rang out so bleek
as yet another called forth upon that field;
louder they rang for a champion to be killed.

The man cursed the beast before him
as the goblin anguished his missing limb,
for their bloody dance unwavered went;
till the man’s severed leg finally bent.

In that very moment, when the sun fell
Lord Calvin gave an encouraged yell,
but Sholthrax cut short his fate
as his goblins headed for the city’s gate.

With the defeat of Slavath’s Judge,
the goblins killed those who refused to budge;
breaching the walls, pulling them down
ever seeking to unseat Mithar’s crown.

Within reach of that certain goal
their forces grew ever more bold;
ravaging in brutality, unmeasured in death,
even nursing mothers were felled to last breath.

Suddenly, then the tides did turn
as a great horde of arms – burned
to life – in discovery against the victor’s sway
a grave calamity was averted that rainy day.

Lord Valenfay, great grandson of Lorin,
triumph their champion at war’s end,
meeting the dwarf lord’s gathering might,
upon the battlefield just in sight.

Then without cause or reason, they all died
for each goblin fell against his brother's side
leaping from great height or on their blade
forfeiting their hard won victory that way.

A hollow celebration for Mitharians lords
as seven thousand, eight hundred lay in gore,
wasted lives for a wasted cause gone mad
weeping widows, and fatherless young all sad.

Yet a great following was mustered about
that usurper lord who sought another rout
as three hundred named him their lord king,
others still banished them with a vile sting.

The old cultic mindset had won out
over the dejected victors, no matter how stout,
departing to Ipstha’s eastern divided mount;
where the dwarven years have lost count.

Through the ages of deviling hard stone,
residing deep in the earth’s hallow bone
sheltering down, and away from the world
as loners, cast in their own mysterious whirl.

That usurper king, exiled his kin to follow
a new hope, their pride did swallow
as they fled, up the Luhun’s River
they never complained, shrank nor shivered.

The heartland of Eriduah, once was green
but a desert waste, had engulfed that dream;
its halflings, vanished to other parts
for the world had changed their happy hearts.

Valenfay’s people left the bitter behind,
those who felt betrayed, were unkind;
yet the splintered remnant who stayed
under their judges, new beginnings they made.



..

My Novel

THE CATHARSIS MANUSCRIPT

   A mysterious manuscript, translated from an ancient lost people becomes the inheritance from a grandfather, Jacob Townsend never knew he had.  The closer he comes to discovering one, the deeper the rabbit trail leads him into discovering secrets of himself.  Secrets to the source of his nightmares.  His exploration becomes the full circle purging of his entire life; with twists, Jacob never dreamt of before the letters arrived. 

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Please feel free to leave comments.

...

The Wickedest King

First meeting of the most wicked King of Mithar

“She wanted to birth you sons.  She had twins, girls instead, and one of them died in childbirth.  Because of the loss, and it not being a son you refused to lie with her again.  In that deep sorrow and the shame you heaped upon her, darkness sank her heart but never her love for you.  It came to pass in the depths of that sadness she neglected her babe and slept atop her by misfortune.  In this second loss Reyon could not recover and walked out into the waters of the Bay before us without swimming.

The Prophetess Aerie

The Calling of Aerie

"...As the Lady Lillikiss replied suddenly all the others stopped their doings and took notice of me and she in conversation.  “Oh dear child, you are most blessed, for you alone are gifted..."d with looking upon the dead and still be among the living.  See, as we are now moved to impress hope and joy upon you over the depressing fear of passing over into our realm.  You are indeed of great importance and matter greatly my child.”

The Oath

   When his son turned seven years old, Nadan told Kyon, “Son, people will kill me one day.”

   The boy looked at him and said, “No father do not say that.”

   Nadan continued, “I tell you this so that when it happens you will understand and not be caught off guard.  But they will and I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, I love you and am very proud of you my son.”

   His son assured him, “I know.  Gratitude father; but, why would someone want to kill you?”

   Smiling, Nadan answered as best he could, “Some people are afraid.  They only react from fear and not understanding.  They fear change.  Instead of love, compassion and understanding some reach out to hurt others they are afraid of getting to know.  The more you grow up the more changes are asked of you.  When you love others there is less of you and more of them.”

   “I will father, and they shall be humbled to tears and made to realize they were wrong.” Kyon answered.

   Exactly a year later to the very day Nadan was killed at the Oasis of Orid.  As Kyon lay beside his father’s body, he remembered his words.  Kyon stopped his crying and stood up.  Facing the priest, with his father’s blood still dripping from his unsheathed sword, he said “I am Kyon the son of Nadan, and I forgive you.  I am sad to see that you have not grown up, and everything you think you know about God; are not the lessons he wanted you to learn.  You may leave now that I may bury my father for your deed is done, and there is no one left for you to kill.”

   The priest and the four Tower guards were astounded by the boy’s reaction.  They left in silence.  Moments later the crowd that had gathered about and watched everything departed as well.   Afterwards, Kyon said, “Gratitude, Corlan but I shall do this task alone.”  With that he dug a deep hole in the desert sand and buried his father by himself as Corlan, his father’s man servant looked on and cried for his loss.  For he knew Kyon would never cry again; and for an entire year nor did he speak a word. 

...

INTRODUCTION TWR

   In a post middle earth world, a remnant of the elves stayed behind.  In doing so they developed a cultic history where idealist doctrines centered themselves as divine teachers.  Beginning with a boxed-scroll, the Watcher’s personal stories and later histories; these collected works became their sacred Scriptures.  The Keepers were called: The Order of the Red Brotherhood.  Their WATCHER’S BOOK and its forgotten religion witnessed the coming, not only of Noah’s Flood but the end of The Nephilim Age as well. 

................................................................................

Mayor Kalena

[The Watcher's Book: VENDURMAR]

   News came to the ear of the king one day, by word of his cup bearer, that the people had become too many and bored with life behind the walls.  “Their excitement of such new and different things, have made them complacent and in need of redirection, lest they begin to find pleasure in strife and rally against you.” 

   Clapping his hands the king called for his Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms.  He shared what his cup bearer had said and agreed with his words, “Go out think on this matter for your selves and in one hour return as to what shall be done.”

   After they left Vendumar told the cup bearer to tell the kitchen to make a meal and have four settings prepared.  At the hour’s end a table had been so set as ordered.  When the Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms returned they saw the king being served wine by the cup bearer beside him.  Vendumar asked, “Well, speak plainly.”

   The Chef Guard, Legandriel began, “Sire, it is true the entering people have overwhelmed Mithar, and their only intent is to claim homes for themselves with no regards to heritage or how the provisions came to be.  They have become drunk from the bounty, and yes sire rumors that the Watchers are less than once thought.”

   Looking at Vethdema, his spiritual advisor, “What do you say?”

   Vethdema echoed the same, adding, “Sire, if I may – a way of earning these ‘blessings’ might be devised that would encourage more willing citizens of our original intent as teachers to the ‘lesser’ men.”

   Vendumar smiled, being greatly pleased, “Understood.”  Turning to his cup bearer, the king introduced, “This man here, Kalena by name, had no fear in sharing this truth with me.  Because of that, and the respect I have witnessed first-hand; I name you as the Mayor of Mithar.  As the people reenter the city I think it would be best to see one of their own leading them. You shall be second only to myself.  Your greatest advisors shall be these two here.  As quickly as you rose surely may you fall; we all know this to be true.  Now, come you three dine and tell me more.  I am hungry for meat and your councils both.”

   Slowly over the weeks a teaching school within the tower was setup.  It also was devised that only those who attended such training were allowed to reside within the protective walls of the city.  In this way was the city regained from the Nasil without bloodshed; and the power of the king grew.  The basic need for masons to repair the southern wall, and teaching desert dwellers how to fish came as among the first lessons to be taught.  Later great houses grew out from the tower each with a degree plan and skill.  In time the Priesthood grew stronger devising coded lessons and password making it even more challenging to reside in Mithar Its wealth and prestige grew as well.

  

Kimashe and the Bleeding Stones

THE WATCHER'S BOOK
VENDUMAR

   In the early morning hours King Vendumar was awaken by a horrific nightmare but told no one of its details.  He called for his Councilors: Spiritual Advisor, Chef Guard and the Mayor of Mithar.  Though their conversations eased him back to a waking state, none could tell him his dream or its meaning.

   The Mayor said, “Forgive me O King, but there is one from the Nasilian camp named Kimashe, called a Seer by her people.  It is said that ‘she knows the unknown and can discern the yet to be’, sire.”

   Vendumar replied, “You are all good as you are but in this matter – bring her before me, but do not breathe a word as to why.  That I may know she is true or false.”

   Going out to the tent city of Slavath, a mile from the city gate of Mithar they searched her out.  At a blue tent on the outside of the settlement Kalena, the Mayor and two tower guards dismounted their steads as he called out her name.  From within the tent, she called them inside.  The tent looked much grander and larger on the inside than its small outside appearance.  Many colored veils and lit candles were everywhere, bones and feather and furs.  Rising from a pillowed seat a young woman said, “He has cried for three nights, but only this morning has he begged an answer from you and two others.  Even now he orders me to appear for a meaning of his woe.”

   “How did –,” began Kalena?

   But Kimashe replied in haste, “We must go.”  She walked as the three others rode horseback refusing to be lifted up.  Through the great statued gate, down the cobbled stone streets to the many stairs of Varlendur they soon came before the king in his tower.

   Behind the King’s throne the wall was a painted with a scene of the Great Departure; the boarding of the last swan ship.  For all his power Vendumar had no understanding of his own dream.  Coming before the king, Kalena introduced her, “Sire, here is the Nasilian Seer, Kimashe by name lord.”

   Kimashe stood dressed in a white hooded robe, both hands and bare feet adorned with rings and bracelets; she was covered in tattoos.  Her face was sand white, and hair black as coal.  Just as King Vendumar was about to speak, she spoke instead, “The bleeding-eye crows have nothing better to do than to torment you for the last three night of your sleep, and wrestle with your thoughts in the day, mi lord.  Shaken and crying in the night like an abandon child in a sand storm.  I tell you now oh King to command your scribe to write down all that I say; and the day my words perish is the day the dreams return worse than before.”

  Vendumar nodded, even as the scribe was already fast at his work.  Then the king asked, “What was the dream and its meaning, child?”

   “A bleeding eye crow sat on a huge cut stone lying on its side.  The crow flew to the ground as the pillar was raised.  Four times this happened.  Yet amid the standing stones were six bleeding eye crows walking about on the blood soaked ground.”

   The king was happy to have found someone who could tell him his dream but was in awe at who spoke the words.  The one before him was no more than a child of eight, but her maturity was more.  Vendumar inquired, “There was another.”

  Kimashe looked very grave, “Indeed there was sire.  For all six crows came together as one making a seventh larger crow.  The seventh crow had white bleeding eyes and a forked tongue like a snake.  The large, sharped tongue crow began pecking at a gold, ringlet-leaf crown, like yours.  It filled with holes and each one was bleeding, before it fell apart and melted into the blood soaked ground.”

   Falling back into his throne with great fright, Vendumar gasped, “Come wicked child!  Pray tell me surely the meaning of such disgust and mare as this thing you have made plan to me and all here.  These are the very things indeed that have so plagued me!”

  Both of her arms rose out and became stiff.  Her fingers went jagged and ridged as her own grey eyes began to bleed.  Suddenly her gentle voice sounded like that of an old man, “Six shall come, and four be slain and their black words shall see much blood spilt.  A seventh shall rise greater than the six.  Embolden by them the very king who hears him shall be the final one!”   After her prophecy she collapsed to the floor.  Upon standing she was as before.

  The entire room was much worried by her words.  Vendumar said, “No one shall speak against the king.  The king himself, alone shall reprieve or condemn any who do for that is what kings do; fate and judgement.  In this matter, I perceive you have spoken truthfully without malice.  We shall strive in our reign to cause only light, good and harmony to continue in -.”

   “What of Varlendur and the dungeon renown through Eriduah; and you as holder of its iron key?” Kimashe interrupted.

  Vendumar saw this was no child before him but something greater, “You have been afforded good will up to this point, Seer of Nasil.  Watch your words and tone thereof.  There is a reason and season for that key and its business is no concern of yours.  Thank you for your service; you may either return to your old life or begin a new one here.”

  “I shall return unhindered either way.”  As she turned to leave the great tower doors flew open on their own accord to the dismay of all.


...

The Watcher's Book: EKIM

THE WATCHER'S BOOK:

The Explorer's Map

========================================

    In that distant village, so deep in those ancient woods I was welcomed as though I was meant to be there.  Two days after I ventured upon the ‘lost people’ I learned many things I had never heard of before.  They pointed out a man named Ekim.  He was said to have been a man of some importance.  He could interrupted dreams and had on occasion even told the worrisome soul the very dream they had forgotten, and its meaning.

   So I told him my dream, “The very night before I left home, twelve years ago I dreamt of stars passing in a blur overhead in the night sky and counted the full moon fourteen times go by me.  In that time a sapling tree grew to full height. As it bore fruit a great lion and three lionesses approached the great tree and sat beneath its shade.  Three more moons went by then suddenly I noticed that it was not a lion at all but a hyena wearing a lion’s skin.  The three lionesses suddenly transformed into crocodiles and began devouring the lion-hyena.  They tore it limb from limb destroying it completely.  The tail grew into a lion cub, and then the crocodiles themselves, becomes male lions as well and bowed down to the cub. 

  In truth; that dark dream had always disturbed me.  So, if it is true you are a man of grave insight then please, by all means ease my mind with what it means.”

   Ekim, the bearded man dressed in colorful layer of robes and a twisted vine-staff smiled, walked away and then turned back to me and said, “In the passage of time twelve years have seen a new king rise to power beneath the Tower of Mithar.  In fact he is the second Priest to wear the royal crown.  Mark this day and your visit before me, because today his three closet advisors have slain him for he betrayed his people with wicked deceptions.  His son, raised by another mother shall take his father’s place and restore honor to the office as King and pronounce a new High Lord to be chief among the priest instead of himself.  All deceptions come to light my friend.  Seventeen years to the very day shall you return home; and what I have just told you will see you rise in power also.”

........................

A great explorer ventured through the lands of Eriduah, and after 17 years returned home with great stories and wonders causing many to be amazed. Jorielle Montrul's map was gifted to the newly crowned boy king who pronounced the explorer as the new High Priest.

THE WATCHER'S BOOK: Kyon

   

( Click to enlarge picture )

In the city of Lindol there was a widow named Mena, a devout follower of the Goddess Yevanna. Mena devoutly burned incense in her temple daily, never forgetting to mention her husband who had been lost at sea.

   One day as Mena was working in her garden a stranger happened to venture by. The stranger approached and said, "Woman, give me a bowl of soup made fresh from your garden, as The Creator Illuva's servant asks and you shall be blessed beyond measure this very day."

   The old woman said, "I do not even know your name, why must you so compel me to do such a thing? *sigh* Nonetheless, it shall be done." Straight away Mena gathered and prepared the meal. It proved to be the last of what she had in store.Without a spoken word that it was the last of her own food she smilingly offered it to the stranger at her table.

   The young man ate his fill leaving nothing to remain behind, got up and turned to leave in silence. As he did so the woman called after him, "May Illuva richly bless you instead!"

   With that the stranger turned back around and replied, "I am Kyon the only son of Nadan the Prophet. Behold, as I said before - here comes your reward beyond measure my dear Lady." Kyon Omdan then walked down the eastern road without passing any one.

   Seeing nothing unusal occur Mena returned to cleaning up her kitchen after the stranger when shortly there came a knock at the door again.

Upon opening the door her eyes filled with tears and she burst into laughter jumping to embrace her husband who stood there.

   A moment later he confessed an amazing tale. "I was lost at sea," He began, "for three weeks we drifted beyond the rim of the world. Many a day I feared sight of The Undying Lands, and ever was your name and face in my thoughts beloved wife.

   "Washed finally ashore, shipwrecked near the Port of Kathos was I found and thought dead. I was taken in and nursed to health again by a couple much younger than I.

   "For two weeks the merchant of Kathos gave me apprenticeship as a Copper-smith as I had no memory of who I was, but learned the craft quickly. Two months after I had been washed ashore, Japheth of Lindol ventured to that port city to buy his wares. In doing so he certainty recognized me of who I rightly was, and in that moment my true memory returned; as a flash of lightening in the night.

   "Being fully restored, my love, have I returned begging your forgiveness of my long absence and thinking me perished in death. I pray also that you would return with me for there I have a house grander than this one, a shop of my own and food beyond measure!" His fine clothes and offering of a coin purse was proof enough of his tale unto her.

   In reply she said through her tears, "Nolshek, all I have ever wanted was your safe return to my arms. Everything after that is a blessing in itself."

   AS Kyon journeyed down the road leaving Men's tiny home three ruffians threatened to waylay him. He asked, "Why do you seek to do me harm for I am as a stranger to you?"

   "It is for that very reason, that you are a stranger in these parts that we have no fear of a boy the like of you," said the first club welding highway man. The other two laughed and drew their own blades.

   Kyon said without hesitation or fear, "I have no coin to steal, no fine robe to take nor walking stick to claim as your own, and yet you would strive to take my very life for sport."

   The two jested in turn, "Yes, it is well known only Fools travel this road at dusk just because of the likes of us!"

But Kyon only stood his ground saying, "Such a pity you have allowed yourselves to see Kyon the only son of Nadan for the final time." Then Kyon waved his hand before them. In a panic the two men dropped their knives and began clasping their eyes screaming loudly, "I can not see!" "You fool, how did you blind me?"

   The third man, dropping his club fell to knees begging for mercy instead, "Forgive me Master! Do not curse me as well! I was banished into being a begger and fell among men of poor morals in hard times. Take mercy on me my lord, I beg you!"

   Kyon said, "Mercy indeed. Go, and tell everyone what you have seen. The very day in which you stop sharing such amazing news of kindness shall prove to be the very day you shall surely be stricken as blind as them! For some blind men are never healed of their blackened hearts."

   ONE day Kyon, the only son of the Prophet Nadan sat in the market square of Lindol, on the rim of a drawing well. A woman came to fetch water for her family's needs. Kyon said to her, "Daughter, for kindness sake give me a fresh drink from your pale, and your second shall see you greatly rewarded by Illuva himself!"

   After she gave Kyon a drink, she asked with a laugh, "Shall I now draw again to find gold coins?"

   Kyon answered, "Love is far more precious a thing maiden, more than all the coins this well could ever hold." With that he rose and left.

   About this time a warrior on a great horse dismounted his heavily clad stead, and removing his helm knelt before the young milk maid saying, "I am CaLos of Uruk, from the fourth House of Calabrosh. I have finished many tasks this day and rode far to meet the King of Mithar on urgent business. I came to LIndol for my personal sake. Please, I beg you to hear me out."

   Startled she almost rose to leave but stayed, as the young prince continued, "Be my bride, and I shall be the happiest man of all Eriduah. I have inherited great wealth from my father, and for three years thought it folly to search for the face that captivated all my nightly dreams. This very day I gave up in searching; yet have I found you at last. For Kyon, the only son of the prophet Nadan, told me such a thing would happen three years ago!"

   In amazement the soiled face girl said before the gathering crowd, "How can I leave my father's home, break my mother's heart and abandon my seven brother alone; even if you are some far away prince?"

   He smiled broadly, "They may come as well my sweet, if only you would make me as happy as I am in this very moment for the rest of my life. Surely I would rather bestow of my wealth upon your father's household just to have your hand in mine."

   By this time her family was among the crying crowd smiling, as she unblinkingly said, "YES!" The next day Sandriel and CaLos were wed and they journeyed to Uruk from Lindol with great joy.

KYON THE PROPHET

(Click to enlarge picture)

In the city of Linol there was a widow named Mena, a devout follower of the Goddess Yevanna. Mena devoutly burned incense in her temple daily, never forgetting to mention her husband who had been lost at sea.
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One day as Mena was working in her garden a stranger happened to venture by. The stranger approached and said, "Woman, give me a bowl of soup made fresh from your garden, as The Creator Illuva's servant asks and you shall be blessed beyond measure this very day."
The old woman said, "I do not even know your name, why must you so compel me to do such a thing? *sigh* Nonetheless, it shall be done." Straight away Mena gathered and prepared the meal. It proved to be the last of what she had in store.Without a spoken word that it was the last of her own food she smilingly offered it to the stranger at her table.

The young man ate his fill leaving nothing to remain behind, got up and turned to leave in silence. As he did so the woman called after him, "May Illuva richly bless you instead!"
With that the stranger turned back around and replied, "I am Kyon the only son of Nadan the Prophet. Behold, as I said before - here comes your reward beyond measure my dear Lady." Kyon Omdan then walked down the eastern road without passing any one.

Seeing nothing unusal occur Mena returned to cleaning up her kitchen after the stranger when shortly there came a knock at the door again.
Upon opening the door her eyes filled with tears and she burst into laughter jumping to embrace her husband who stood there.
A moment later he confessed an amazing tale. "I was lost at sea," He began, "for three weeks we drifted beyond the rim of the world. Many a day I feared sight of The Undying Lands, and ever was your name and face in my thoughts beloved wife.
"Washed finally ashore, shipwrecked near the Port of Kathos was I found and thought dead. I was taken in and nursed to health again by a couple much younger than I.
"For two weeks the merchant of Kathos gave me apprenticeship as a Copper-smith as I had no memory of who I was, but learned the craft quickly. Two months after I had been washed ashore, Japheth of Lindol ventured to that port city to buy his wares. In doing so he certainty recognized me of who I rightly was, and in that moment my true memory returned; as a flash of lightening in the night.
"Being fully restored, my love, have I returned begging your forgiveness of my long absence and thinking me perished in death. I pray also that you would return with me for there I have a house grander than this one, a shop of my own and food beyond measure!" His fine clothes and offering of a coin purse was proof enough of his tale unto her.
In reply she said through her tears, "Nolshek, all I have ever wanted was your safe return to my arms. Everything after that is a blessing in itself."

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ZETAS

   When I was a kid back in the last 1970s there was a time when I had violently blood and horrific nightmares and for many years even into the '80s a character would surface in my nightmares from time to time. I called them ZETAS!

Zetas (My drawing and then the Photoshoped version)

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   Having never heard anyone so openly speak of such things, my youngest grandson inquired, “Grandfather, what are Eldrens, Yantuks and... Zetas?” His mother’s face turned cold as I instructed the boy in the lore that had orally come down to me; she left the room.

    The most devious of creatures were the Eldren. They are shape-shifters who pride themselves in being half deer and half elf. They lay in waiting for unwary travelers with their spell enchantments of deceit and forgetfulness for those who stumble upon their woods. The Yantuks are half men, half birdlike creatures that feast upon the flesh of disobedient children who come up missing in the night answering the exhausted prayers of frustrated crying parents who have lost their patience!
But the Zetas, they are the most hideous beast among the animal kingdom.
    After a longer pause my grandson dared to asked, “Grandfather… What did the Zetas look like?”
My own eyes widened at the request as fear overcame my own heart in trying to answer my grandson.

 

CONTINUE>>> "The Skin"

TWB- LORE

"...There are ancient creatures in the world rarely if ever seen. Many called fabled, myth or make believe; but to be assured Werewolves, Unicorns, Dragons, Balrogs and Orc once did walk this plans as real as you and I. But for the rare heroes would we even now suffer beneath the horrors of their kind. All have but vanished or returned to their unseen realms; yet the Eldren. Yantuk and Zetas still plague the night in our childhood nightmares. The woods of Kinderval are ramped with tales of these unseen demons though the missing can attest to their existence among us today!" THE WATCHER'S BOOK ~ David DeLane Snow

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THE WATCHER's BOOK

 

 

 

 

 

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THE WATCHER'S BOOK

THE WATCHER'S BOOK

If the Silmarillion is the Bible of Middle Earth then mine is the Cultic Watchtower version.

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