You were awaken at seven by the cat who sat on Carol’s alarm radio and turned it on, a first. Mary Lou then called and you and Carol are returning to Columbus for a last minute get-together with Uncle John and his sister, Aunt Catherine, who will be eighty-nine this week, he will be eighty-six in June. Lunch at Bob Evans at twelve-thirty.
I thought it was going to be a quiet day, but alas, not the case. Have some errands and chores to do myself before we leave.
Home late afternoon. You are waiting for Sixty Minutes. After, we can begin work on chapter four.
You mean we just begin? What is the leadoff?
Merlyn arriving among the Dead.
Isn’t this going to throw readers off?
A lead in by the Supervisor will set the scene in motion.
This will be the Scottish Merlyn?
Yes, of course.
But who will be there [to greet him], his parents? > I have been searching online and found nothing relevant to his legend. I am thinking this book is about to fall apart if we go this direction.
Check your own sources orndorff. You have the books in the basement, the ones needed for this. Remember, it is a fiction old man. You are getting too uptight. – Amorella.
You have material from book two, Running Through. In this book it implies that Merlyn dies in AD 610 or shortly thereafter. Let’s make it AD 610. Drop a few words from Grandma’s Stories one and two in book two here.
“When Merlyn arrived at Court Igraine was sitting talking to Viviane II and Viviane’s daughter-in-law Elaine. To Merlyn this meant that the chances were that Lancelot was also with Arthur and King Aedian. Lancelot would most likely support Elaine who would most likely support Viviane II who is also supporting Igraine. This means that Arthur is close to being alone in his support of the Roman church, thinks Merlyn.
He smiled broadly upon greeting the women, who each smiled both reserved and pleasantly at the same time. As he drew closer and bowed to the women, Merlyn said, “The Queen runs the board.”
“Which piece are you on this board of yours?” asked the Queen in return.
Merlyn scratched his wildly untrimmed red-splotched gray beard and bowed, “I am but a mere pawn, m’Queen.” He bowed again, this time to the two other women and added, “and m’Ladies,” with utmost sincerity. Merlyn understood he was a pawn on the Necessity board, a far older and deeper board of chess than religious politics of sixth century Scotland. He winked at Elaine who had known Merlyn all her life as she was the daughter of Pelles of Corbenic and whose own grandfather, Pellam, was the brother of Taliesin the Bard, whose Druidic title Merlyn inherited. As Merlyn blinked, he saw a reflection within himself of a wind of words: Galahad is the key to the Grail and to the Stone of Destiny. Mistress Nature the concept in from afar. I see a warrior knight with white shield with red tee-crossed lettering, only to find the white of the armor and lettering read are me, Merlyn.
***
The year is AD 610. Prince Eochaid Build MacAedan is only two years old. He will become King of Scottish Dalriada and be dead at the age of twenty-two. His son, Donald Brec will be king from six hundred and thirty to six forty-three. King Arthur MacAedan died in battle in six hundred and three. No one likes to talk about it. Actually, no one dare talk about what happened with Arthur. Arthur’s memory is one such memory that is best forgotten if you are a Celtic Christian.”
***
***
And,
“Thomas had tears in his eyes. Merlyn held him tight as if Thomas was his own son. He rubbed the boy’s back and said, “Master Thomas, neither of us will live to see a better day coming, but it will come one day, and when it does, we will all be freer.”
“Thank you for the half a moon of writings, Uncle Merlyn. I shall keep them in my heart always.”
“That is where we will always meet boy, in the writings. It is up to you see to it the writings are passed down from generation to generation, so people will know there is more to truth than truth can ever tell. Then he disclosed an additional secret to Thomas alone. You remember that too, boy,” he said. “We will discuss it in another place in another time.”
They continued to hug tightly. Merlyn then leaned down and gave the boy a kiss, said, “God be with you!” turned and began with a skip that in a blink turned into a run until the old man was out of sight. Young Thomas glanced at his mother who was crying and he sobbed and hot tears flowed. Never again, thought Thomas, will there be a man like Merlyn the Bard. He hugged and kissed me like I was his own son. What a better uncle could a boy have. With that, Master Thomas grew up inside and thought like a man in a boy’s clothing.” [Chapters One & Two, Grandma’s Stories, Running Through]
***
The lines above should be better written, Amorella.
I would be angry if you were to apologize. It would be the height of arrogance to do so.
I thought about it.
Of course you did, that is why I wrote of the anger. The books are a representation of you orndorff, warts and all. The books are dressed in passion not necessarily skill. I put them from mind to fingers and the imparting translations are far from perfect. Post this. We can work on this chapter tomorrow.
What is the setting? Where does Merlyn die? Does he die alone?
Where would you have the setting?
In the woods, alone, except I would have him see a vision Grandma Earth while he passed, and a reference to the chess board, and to perhaps being bound in blue and white as a self-reference. After all, this is my Merlyn and he has to remain in character throughout the books. I don’t know beyond this.
How would you imagine your last thoughts?
I don’t know. I suppose I would think of immediate family and a few old friends.
So, lets add his two mistresses to these notes. From Grandma’s Story, chapter two, Grandma Earth is prefacing a reminder.
***
“Children, this is Grandma. . . . Merlyn . . . had two women in his life, Brigit and Vivian, but he had offspring from neither for which he was grateful considering his personal druidic circumstance.
Brigit, the daughter of Dubhthact, lived on the sacred island of Iona. Dubhthact had been a physician and smithy. Brigit had bright red hair, as did Merlyn, they appeared to be as first cousins or even brother and sister when seen together, but neither was so closely related. Appearance can quite naturally quite deceptive. Brigit was a physician and smith like her father. She was also a druidess, and she was murdered. Merlyn had not foreseen it because the Roman Christians killed her. Later, after Merlyn’s lifetime, the same Christians made her a saint. Being killed, then being resurrected were words passed on in those days, and poor Brigit was a living then dead example of it.
The other druidess, Vivian the Sorceress, is better known in stories and poems about Merlin the Magician. Much later in history Alfred, Lord Tennyson says of her in Merlin and Vivien: “At Merlin’s feet the wily Vivien lay.” With some research, winked Grandma, the reader can find an engraving by W. Ridgway, after Gustave Dore, of Vivian and Merlyn appearing to sit romantically under a great Oak, which is a good story. Who could have predicted such?
Merlyn wasn’t always right in his predictions of course, people recognized that, but he could be uncannily accurate, and people knew that too. He had not forgotten the flash he had had of a graystone when Mother Eve had spoken through him. How could he forget with Renaldo the Interrupter standing right there at the doorway as Merlyn was leaving to return to the Stones. Criteria [Renaldo's wife, Thomas' mother] was standing a little to the side with her arm on young Thomas. Each knew in herorhis heart that this was the last time they would ever meet in this world. Thomas understood this too but it mixed him up, and he ran forward to give his Uncle Merlyn a last hug. That’s a good place for me to begin the conclusion of this story.”
***
I am feeling somewhat better. At least there is something to work with. I would hope I could finish these books then go back and mostly just edit those first three books, make them smoother and correct spelling and typing errors by using the Voice program.
If you live long enough perhaps you will.
That also makes me feel better, Amorella, that you are not adverse to better writing.
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