“-And that... dear lad, is how you string a bow,” Tilantous the ranger said in his deep gentle voice, stepping away and handing the little boy the bow.  

The boy beamed excitedly down at the bow, way too big for him, “Wow!” he breathed.  

Tilantous patted his head and walked back over to his own bow. He slung it, and his quiver, over his shoulder, looking back to the people of the fortress of Hoan. Raising his hand in farewell, to the people he knew and loved so well, and started walking for thetall gates.  

Murial and PineThorn
A legend of Afinlyn
Short Story

(Sorry, not an Essay! I pushed that on accident!)

After all the ashes fell to ground
we learned what it was to be still.
Truly still, no sound, no move, no breath;
the air was silence, the earth was silence.
Forced introspection like this is dangerous,
abruptly confronting thoughts
that were better left unvisited,
thoughts that burned down,
thoughts that fell with the ashes.
I believed I was careful and calculating,
were my thoughts like this all along?
This tenuous, ill-constructed house of cards?
Order wafts away like a vapour

I would like to just make a quick note; thank you to everyone who commented on the previous parts of this serial! You have all encouraged me... thank you so much! 

 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
 Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
 All mimsy were the borogroves,
 And the mome raths outgrabe.'

 Jesus Knew Redux

(Psalm 22 on the right, response on the left. Style inspired by many poems of Kestrel.)

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? 

Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? 

Of course You knew

You still begged

O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest

Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel

Is it enough that Your Father knows?

 In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them

Now more years came and went, and Rayôn and Qeyrah had more children, and their children had children, until there were four and five generations living in and near the Vale.  Over a hundred years had passed since Arah lost its innocence, and a hundred and fifty since its creation. 

A Dream is Just a Dream…or is it?

(A/N) This is a Narnia fan fiction. I hope you like it!

TIME SETTING FOR OUR EARTH: 2011

TIME SETTING FOR NARNIA: DURING “THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE”

Chapter one (intro)

“Anne!” my mother called me from the kitchen, “Anne Elise, it’s time for breakfast!”

I stirred in my sleep only to awake after a few moments. It was then when I heard my mother calling me.

I groaned silently. Is it morning so soon?

The huntsman had brought her Snow White’s heart in golden box, just as she had asked. It was strange that so much depended on this thing, dark, oblong, and forever silent. She held up the heart, and droplets of blood dripped to the ground. She would eat Snow White’s heart, and eat it raw. She pictured Snow White’s body on the winter landscape, now nothing more than a corpse. The wolves could have the rest of her, devour her, tear apart her body.

McCaughlin adjusted the red-checked neckerchief over his face, and slipped into the doorway where the shadows would hide him from any passerby. He slipped a piece of stiff wire from his pocket and deftly picked the lock.

He glanced around the street. Not a person was in sight, although he heard the sounds of raucouslaughter coming from the nearby saloon. All the better. He thought, Their laughter will cover any noises I might make.