The Magic Quill

Mirriam sat on her bed with one of her two best friends, Keaghan, staring at the blank parchment before her. The blank page stared back at her as if it had just won a “stare out” contest. Her most newly acquired treasure, a genuine fountain pen was poised just above the page, waiting for the words to flow out of her.

“C’mon, Mirriam!” encouraged Keaghan. “You’ve never had problems writing before now! What’s going on?”

Mirriam closed her eyes and set the quill down carefully so as to not drip any of the black ink on herself or anything else. She had gotten the gift little more than a week ago for Christmas but couldn’t seem to bring herself to start writing with it. It was such a special gift and so “Elvish”; it could only be used for a very, very special story; especially since she had also purchased some really expensive vellum paper that looked like real parchment. It couldn’t be just any old story…

“Just start writing something!” whined Keaghan, becoming exasperated.

Mirriam sighed and put the glass quill onto the page and began to write: Lothlorien was aglow with golden afternoon light…

Suddenly both Mirriam and Keaghan gasped aloud; their eyes widening in wonder. Instead of black ink flowing in shaky print onto the vellum was a gorgeous script with letters of living light that blazed and glowed across the page in a foreign language that seemed somewhat familiar to Mirriam.

“Look!” shrieked Keaghan, pointing to the bedroom wall. A portion of Mirriam’s bedroom wall had completely faded away (or had become invisible) but instead of looking at her neighborhood, she was staring at the limbs of a giant Mallorn tree. Keaghan nudged her in the ribs, still gaping.

“Write some more!” she hissed. Shockwaves of nervous excitement running through her veins, Mirriam again began to scratch out whatever words came into her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she could feel magic crackling in the air.

…the flet upon which Earwen and Keaghan sat was crowded with the company of other woodland elves, their bows and quivers at the ready as orcs marched under their position, completely unaware of the doom which waited to rain down on them from above…

Mirriam and Keaghan looked up and watched in amazement as the walls of her home completed melted away into nothing-ness only to be replaced with a 360 degree view of the most amazing golden forest they had ever laid eyes on from a vantage point that was at least 100 feet above the forest floor. Mirriam tucked her long hair behind her ear to get a better look and felt something strange. She gazed at Keaghan’s face whose eyes were practically bulging out of her head in mixed wonder and terror.

Mirriam felt her ear and practically dropped the bow in her left hand. Her ear was pointy!
An elf directly to her right turned round slightly and gave her a warning look. Not a surprised look at seeing a total stranger crouching next to him but a warning look as if to say: CONCENTRATE!

The signal was given and all the elves surrounding Mirriam and Keaghan stood as one and began raining down arrows upon the unsuspecting orcs.

“Earwen!” hissed an elf behind her. “Let fly!” Without a second thought, Mirriam stood, renocked her arrow and sent it flying into the neck of a large black orc. The sudden onslaught was almost over before it began. The entire company of orcs lay dead upon the footpath below. Their attack had been so swift and deadly that not one of them had been able to shriek, sound a warning horn, or escape. Their war party had been decimated by the elf-arrows of the Galadrim.

“Well done, Earwen!” said the elf behind her, squeezing her shoulder. Mirriam turned about and her mouth fell open. Standing at least a full head taller than her was someone she had never thought to see in real life, Legolas.

“Is that who I think it is?” whispered Keaghan in her ear. Mirriam nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the finely chiseled face and striking blue eyes of the elf-prince. Legolas smirked at her and waved a hand in front of her face so as to wake her from her trance.

“Awake, Earweeeennnn,” he murmured, leaning in closer. A lightning bolt of electricity jolted up her spine, freeing Mirriam from her trance. “Time to go! The lady Galadriel and Celeborn are waiting for our return.”

“What do we do now?” hissed Keaghan, grabbing onto Mirriam’s arm. Mirriam finally looked at her best friend. Her hair was now down below her waist but enough of it was tied back for her to see that her ears were pointy as well. Mirriam stifled a giggle.

“Just do what I do,” she whispered, shouldering her bow. To her amazement, Legolas reached back and clasped hold of her free hand and held it for the duration of the trek. With mounting excitement, she followed Legolas’ lead down the stairs from the flet to the footpath where the orcs lay dead. She plucked her arrow from the neck of her one kill, wiped the black blood off onto the grass and put it back in her quiver.

Legolas studied the helmet and iron collar for a moment then flipped the body over.

“You felled the leader, Earwen,” he commented with a congratulatory nod in her direction. “Not too bad for your first day out but my count is 13.” Mirriam found herself grinning at him, his comment familiar and humorous. It was strangely reminiscent of the rivalry between he and Gimli in the Lord of the Rings on the number of enemy combatants they each had killed in the war of the Ring. The forest was quiet now except for the cry of birds and the subtle sound of a quill still scratching on vellum which only Mirriam seemed to notice.

She and Keaghan followed the line of woodland elves as they made their way back to Caras Caladon to report to Galadriel of their success. Every chance she got, Mirriam would steal a glance at Legolas as well as her own body. She was clothed in the grey cloak and golden/brown attire of the Galadrim that blended into the colors of the forest and her legs were clad in knee-high, kid-skin leather boots. Her friend Keaghan was similarly attired with long hair, pointy ears and a bow and quiver that had gone unused. It took the better part of the day and was nightfall before they reached the gigantic Mallorn tree where the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn ruled the golden realm. Silver lanterns lit up all over the forest illuminating their way and the welcoming cry of the Galadrim reached their ears as they made the long climb up to the top flet.
Legolas and the other elves of their warband stood at attention and then bowed with respect as the Lady Galadriel appeared before them. Legolas stood forward, bowed and laid the iron collar and helmet of the orc that Earwen/Mirriam had shot at the feet of Galadriel. She regarded them for a moment then lifted her golden head with a beatific smile.

“Whose arrow felled the Captain?” she asked, looking from one glorious elven face to another.
“Earwen,” spoke up Legolas, since Mirriam found herself tongue-tied in apoplectic glee. Her arms was already black and blue from the nonstop pinching she had given herself throughout the trek to Caras Caladon, unable to believe she was inside Middle Earth in a story of her own creation. She could still hear her quill scratching on the vellum but it seemed like the sound was more inside her head than in her ears now.

Galadriel turned her liquid eyes upon Mirriam/Earwen and smiled. “Well done, Earwen, elven daughter,” she said, her voice as beautiful as a bell. She laid her hands upon Earwen’s shoulders in blessing. “You are the first daughter of the Galadrim to wield bow and arrow to successfully slay our avowed enemy. For this I have a special reward…”

Mirriam cast a quick glance over her shoulder at her best friend, whose face was a study in shock, wonder and disbelief. She turned back to face Galadriel and Celeborn who held forth a wooden box with a silver leaf upon its lid. Mirriam lifted the lid and inside found a crystal ink bottle which was filled not with ugly black ink but a brilliant light which pulsed and glittered in her upheld hand.

“Mithril ink,” Galadriel explained, turning it this way and that so it caught the light. “With this ink you will be a mighty story teller and whatever you write shall come to pass.”

Tears welled in Mirriam’s eyes and a sob caught in her throat. She was speechless and received the gift with shaking hands. She bowed again in thanks to the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn and turned to face Legolas who still stood behind her. In his eyes was great pride and something else Mirriam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I am so proud of you, beloved,” he said, caressing her cheek with his warm hand. The quill scratching in her head came to an abrupt halt the moment his arms went about her.

“Mirriam! Mirriam! Wake up! Are you okay?”

Mirriam turned her head to face Keaghan, completely disoriented. The room slowly stopped spinning and she looked down at the page before her. The ink was now just an ordinary black but the parchment was filled with Sindarin Elvish script that not even she could translate if she spent 50 years trying.

“Who wrote all this?” she asked Keaghan, holding it up in wonder.

“You did!” exclaimed her friend. “You just sort of went into some kind of trance and began writing as if you were possessed or something!”

Mirriam stared down at the page of strange writing again until she got to the last line which suddenly began to waver and change before her eyes until the Elvish script became English.
“…for when thou dost set nib to the page; the magic shall be renewed.”

“What does it say, Mirriam?” asked her friend, unable to read a single word. Mirriam closed her eyes and hugged her legs, her heart and lips remembering again Legolas’ kiss.

“Earwen,” Mirriam corrected her, opening her eyes and smiling at her best friend. “My name is Earwen and I am a shield-maiden of Lothlorien.”

A Gift for Henry

SEPTEMBER 16, 1972 is a day that I will relive for the rest of my life. It happened at the Withlacoochee River in Florida, about two miles from my house. It was around 2:30 in the afternoon and I was 14 years old. I had snuck away from the house on my bicycle when I was told I could not to go swimming that day. I met two of my friends on the way to the river as planned, where we had swam many times before. If only I had known what was going to happen that day, I would never have gone! When we got there there was a man, his wife, and their two daughters swimming. We put our bicycles down, took our shirts and jeans off that we wore over our swimming trunks, and headed down to the and dove in. The water was cool and the current was flowing as usual. We swam back to the river bank and got out of the water. We decided to climb a tree which leaned over the water. We had dove out of that tree many times in the past.

I was the first to climb the tree and dive into the water, followed by my friends. We all swam back to the bank and got out. We climbed the tree again but this time we did a canon ball, swam back, got out again. Then one of my friends asked the other if he wanted to dive off his shoulders. He said yes, so he squatted to let him get on his shoulders and then stood up so he could dive into the river. After he dove in he swam back and as he was getting out he slipped back into water because the bank was getting very slippery. I ran and did a cannon ball again off the bank and as I was getting out, I too noticed that it was not so easy. I slipped a few times before I was finally able to climb back up on the bank. The wet clay was sticking to my feet so I rubbed my feet on the ground and removed most of it. My friend asked if I wanted to dive off of his shoulders and I said, "Sure, why not". So as he squatted down I climbed onto his shoulders and then he stood up so I could dive into the water. Just as I was ready to dive, it HAPPENED!!

My right foot slipped off his shoulder and I fell straight down on top of my head and rolled off into the water. I knew immediately that something was wrong. First of all, there was a tingling sensation all over my body, as though a thousand needles were sticking me! Secondly, I could not move anything. I tried so hard, but nothing would move. I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE. My body was not responding no matter what I tried. I was in the fetal position where your arms and knees are drawn up to your chest, floating face down in the water, drifting with the current. "I could not see anything but the black water as the river towed me further and further away! You cannot imagine everything that was running through my mind all at the same time! But the main thing that I was thinking was, "I NEED TO BREATHE!" All of my thoughts changed from what was wrong with me to, "I am going to drown if I do not breathe NOW!!!" I could not hold my breath any longer your body will take a breath whether you want to or not, IN or out of water. I knew that if took a breath my lungs would fill up with water, but I HAD TO BREATH!! I was so terrified by now because I just knew I was going to DIE!!

Just as my body forced me to take a breath, which would have been nothing but water, my friend grabbed me and turned me over. I was finally able to take a breath of air, which felt like I had waited an eternity for! My friend swam back, with me in tow, to where my other friend was waiting to help pull me out of river that had almost taken my life!!! The family that was there swimming took me to the nearest hospital where they said I was now a quadriplegic you are paralyzed from the neck down and cannot feel nothing and would never walk AGAIN!! That was 37 years ago and I have lived longer than the doctors told me I would.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
God Bless. Henry

A Gift for Henry

Henry awakened with a start, his heart pounding and looked around. For a few seconds all he could do was to stare at the vista which greeted his eyes and then it hit him like a ton a bricks…he was sitting up for the first time by himself since the accident. He opened and shut his eyes slowly several times, the amazing view never changing and then slowly, as if he were afraid he would shatter and break like glass, he bent his neck down and looked at his lower half. Instead of thin, atrophied legs that ignored all of his mind’s commands, there were two tanned and muscular limbs. Holding his breath…he did something he hadn’t been able to do in decades…he wiggled his toes.

A shout of pure joy issued from his mouth, so loud it even scared himself. “YAHOOOOOO!” Then he did something else he hadn’t done in years…he pinched himself… as hard as he could, right above the hips in the “tickle spot” and practically doubled over with mixed joy and disbelief.

“Vicki!” he shouted, wiggling and wiggling his toes more violently. “Will you look at this? Just look!”

There was no answer. It wasn’t until he found himself standing and then jumping up and down with glee that he really noticed and took stock of his surroundings. The sky was the deepest blue he had ever seen but there was no sun. Instead an incredibly pure and blazing glow of light originated from everywhere. In every direction he looked he saw the loveliest terrain he had ever laid eyes on. Majestic mountains with craggy peaks (but no snow); fields of wildflowers broken only by gurgling brooks which fed into crystal clear lakes; wide open undulating plains of the greenest grass he had ever seen. No buildings, no bugs (except butterflies), the most delicious smell of orange blossoms permeating the air and a hint of lilting music that seemed to come from everywhere.

“VICKI!” he shouted again, frustrated that his wife was not there to share the experience with him and validate that it was all real.

“She’ll join you later,” responded a deep and profoundly gentle voice. Henry whirled around and instantly fell onto his face upon recognizing who had spoken to him. “Henry, please rise,” said the man, lifting him gently onto his feet. “I want you to enjoy this time I have given you have on your feet, not your face.”

At His touch, a surge of strength flowed through Henry’s entire body that was electrifying. He felt like he could run all the way to China and back again and not even get winded. Jesus smiled a crinkly smile at him and pointed off into the distance. Henry followed with his eyes and saw the most gorgeous tree he had ever laid eyes on. It was indescribable but even from this distance he could tell it was laden with flowers and fruit; somehow he knew that this is where the lovely perfume was emanating from.

Henry looked back into the face of His blessed Redeemer, his eyes filling with tears and his heart welling with emotion so strong he felt it would burst with joy. Jesus laid his nail-pierced hand upon his shoulder and Henry felt a thrill pass through him.

“Run, Henry!” Jesus smiled broadly. “Run!”

Despite his desire to not leave his Savior’s side for even a moment, it had been as though the words were more of a command than a suggestion. The next thing Henry knew his legs were pumping, his arms were flailing and he was racing like a cheetah through the fragrant grass towards what he knew was the Tree of Life, closing the distance faster than he dreamed could be possible. As he ran, tears of joy flew back in the wind – and a howl of laughter and sheer joy erupted from his throat. He was running. HE WAS RUNNING!!

He exulted in the sheer joy of feeling his once dead limbs alive and thriving again. Oh… if only the dream would never end…if only he would never have to wake up…but wait…he had pinched himself…and it had hurt. What was going on? He came to a stop just before the tree, amazed that he wasn’t even breathing hard. Maybe he wasn’t dreaming…maybe he was…

“You’re not dead, Henry” whispered the voice of Jesus quietly in his ear as if The Master were standing just behind him. “And you’re not asleep either. This is my gift to you for now…unwrap it and take it out whenever you feel the need and know that one day soon, it will be yours to enjoy for eternity with all your loved ones who have trusted in Me.”

Henry hung his head and wept, his shoulders heaving with gratitude. The Lord’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. “I have one more gift for you before you leave…if you’ll accept it…”

“Lord,” sobbed Henry. “It is enough that you suffered, died and rose for me and have allowed me to live a life, though broken physically, that has been abundant for you. I will accept whatever gift you want to give me but what can I do in return for you?”

“You have been giving me the best gift for many years, Henry…You.” Replied Jesus, and suddenly Henry turned around to find Jesus standing before him again only he wasn’t dressed in his “typical” biblical clothes but hip-waders and carrying two fishing rods. “I once told Peter, Andrew, James and John that I would make them fishers of men,” he continued with a broad smile that lit up everything about Him. “But today I think that you and I will just go fish for trout in that stream over there. I can guarantee a good catch but as for you …well today you’ll have to clean and fry them up. Deal?”

Henry’s mouth just hung open and then he bellowed with laughter. “Deal!” he exclaimed.

Henry five months before his accident.

THE END