• The Writer

    Hello! My name is Laura, welcome to my blog! I write weird stories, collect dragon plushies and stay up too late with my nose in a book. I am a wife, mom and child saved by grace. My hope is that you find encouragement here or at least a smile or too.
    God bless!

  • “Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book that it may be for the time to come forever and ever.”
    ~Isaiah 30:8.

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    September 2010
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    We have come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming 'sub-creator' and inventing stories, can Man aspire to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall. Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil.
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "The only just literary critic," he concluded, "is Christ, who admires more than does any man the gifts He Himself has bestowed."
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisioned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "Writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eye for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable. To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures."
    ~Flannery O'Connor

    You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.
    ~Arthur Polotnik

    Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
    ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

    "There are forms of insanity that condemn people to hear voices against their will, but as writers we invite ourselves to hear voices without relinquishing our hold on reality or our right to control."
    ~Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway

    Christians have sometimes been suspicious of stories, because they really can influence you. If you read the Twilight novels once a month for a year, I think you'd be a different human afterward—and not a sparkly one.
    ~Nate Wilson

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Stephen of Scarborough (Part Twenty-Five)

“Ieuan Baugh?  A Welshman?  What makes him so important?” William said leaning forward.

I sat down and massaged my stiff leg.  “He’s one of the best carpenters around, and,” I grinned, “The best bow-maker I’ve ever met.” 

“A Welshman, carpenter and bow-maker, I get the feeling you’re planning on doing something rash.  Have you ever thought of just asking your father’s forgiveness and perhaps earning the money… honestly?”

I stopped massaging my leg and looked at William.  “Forgiveness?  You do not know Robert Hode.  He would not accept my apology.”  I shifted my gaze and glared up at the branches of trees hanging over the rock.  “He doesn’t care that I’m his son, I’m dead to him.”

“Then why are you going to help him?”

“To show him that I’m not the worthless rough he’s labeled me as!  To prove him wrong!  He forced me to flee from my home, offering me no aid as to where I should go or how I was to survive.  And now, he’s the one who’s destitute.”

“Because of you,” William mumbled.

I shot him a dirty look, “He drove me to it!  And He’ll see that one of us still has some honor in tacked.”

William looked at me, pity in his eyes, I glared back.  “Stephen, this is madness.  You can’t redeem yourself this way.  Not through revenge.  Providence…”

“Providence! Ah!  Don’t bring God into this.  There can be no God if he lets a father turn away his own son!  Enough!  It’s getting late.  We’ll fine Ieuan in the morning.”  I scrambled to my feet and stalked off around a turn in the rock before William could say another word. 

Anger and frustration boiled within me.  No.  William couldn’t understand.  He wasn’t a part of this.  Even Marian didn’t understand, she was woman, how could she understand the shame? 

I turned towards the cliff and pounded my fists on the smooth rock.  Squeezing my eyes shut I fought back angry tears.  Crying?  Was I so weak that my father’s cruel actions could make me cry?

“No!” I whispered.  “No!”  Turning my back to the wall I sank to the ground.  I looked up at the fading blue sky and clenched my hands into fists.  There was no God, at least, not one that cared about me.

*     *     *

The woods were silent.  A stray breeze would now and then rustle the leaves over head, whispering through the branches, but Sherwood was still.  It was as if the forest itself was waiting for something, but what it could be waiting for it kept secret, content to watch with tensed silence.

I adjusted the arrows in my belt. I had only managed to finish three, but they would suffice.  Their black, raven feathers gleamed as they caught the light of a stray sunbeam.  I gripped my long bow stave, I wasn’t sure if I would need the weapon, but I wasn’t about to go unprepared.  Glancing over my shoulder, back towards Ludchurch, I sighed.  William had decided to stay behind.  We hadn’t spoken more than two words to each other since the night before.  I wondered if he would return to Scarborough, if he was angry with me.  Secretly I hoped he would stay.  Though we had our differences he was the only person I could truly call my friend.  Shrugging away the thought I trudged on.  I needed to get to Ieuan’s before the day grew late.  The town of Derby was a good walk from here, but, if I took the shortcuts, and didn’t stop, I could be there an hour before noon.  Yes, then be back in the forest before sunset.  I quickened my pace, intent on reaching Derby as soon as possible.

*     *     *

I peered out at the town through a gap in the trees, waiting for the right moment to slip into the street unnoticed.  The town of Derby sat right by the River Derwent, making it the ideal place for trade. I hoped Ieuan’s shop was still in the same place it had been six years ago.  An ox drawn cart rumbled by and taking advantage of the moment, I slipped from my hiding place.  I followed beside the cart a few yards before turning down an adjacent street, where I stop to take note of my location.  I looked about me, the carpenter’s shop was closer to the river, or should be.  Deciding on a direction, I wound my way through the many streets of Derby, heading for the river. 

I wondered up and down the river bank, glancing at each trade sign as I passed shop door after shop door, just when I thought I’d never find it I caught sight of the axe and hammer sign dangling by a rusty chain outside an old looking workshop. 

Cautiously, I approached the door and looked in.  I long table stretched across most of the room, strewn with tools, wood shavings, and various pieces of projects.  Two people stood in the shop, one looked like a tradesman, the other, I recognized instantly as Ieuan Bough.  Six years hadn’t changed him, beside the slight gray hair over his ears, the great red beard and thick mop of curly dark hair was the same.  Even his blue eyes held the same mirth that I remembered.  I waited until the customer left, then stepped into the shop.  Ieuan’s back was turned to me; I purposely scuffed my boots across the well worn floor, letting him know that someone was there.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said without turning around. 

“Caput Gerat Lupinum John.”  

Ieuan froze, I heard something clatter to the floor, then he turned around.  He gazed at me and his eyes grew hide.

“Locksley?”  He blinked and shook his head, “Stephen, what are you doing here?” 

Leave a comment


  1. So many mysteries!
    And while this is not the greatest one I’m pondering – I’m still curious – why is leuan’s name always lowercase?

    • storygirl308

       /  September 8, 2010

      It’s not actually. It’s an “i” not an “l”. 🙂 And it is capitalized, the font is just weird. This is what it would look like in lowercase – ieuan. I can see how that would be confusing.

  2. Cool! I’m a little unsure about how long the trek to Derby took him…but I won’t argue that point. I’m rusty on my English geography (AGAIN).

    Like the CGL, by the way. 😉

    • storygirl308

       /  September 8, 2010

      (That’s why he took shortcuts. 😉 ) Honestly though, I’m not too sure of the geography myself, but I’m trying to be as accurate as possible. According to one source, Derby wasn’t very far from where Locksley was suppose to be, but I really don’t know where Ludschurch is in comparison to Locksley, one little detail I couldn’t find any info on. :\ That’s where creative license comes into play. 😉

      I thought you might. I couldn’t resist tying that in somehow. 🙂

      • Well, Derby isn’t too far from Nottingham (at least looking at modern maps), but searching for Ludchurch/Ludschurch/Lud’s Church comes up either way over in the southeast, or in Staffordshire–both decently far from either Derby or Nottingham (it looks like the city/town of Stafford is about 20 miles from Derby–and not in the right place for Sherwood). Where did you find to bring Ludchurch in? I’m not trying to be a pain, by the way, just trying to get this straight in my head again. It’s amazing how quick the details fall back out.

        Wow, that’s a lot of garbled talking. I’ll be quiet now…

      • storygirl308

         /  September 9, 2010

        No, that’s cool that you’re trying to place it all. 🙂

        I found Ludschurch on this website, http://myweb.ecomplanet.com/kirk6479/default.htm, it was a place in Sherwood (or a forest that might of been…) where outlaws would hide. (But the really funny thing is, I can’t find where it was on the site again!) I thought it would make an interesting hideout instead of the usual tree or cave. But, I think, I did take a bit of creative license with where I placed it.

  3. Oh, okay. I’ll have to explore that site some! Ever since I found boldoutlaw.com, I haven’t really looked for any more sites (he’s got a bunch linked on his anyway!).

    It’s funny…in some things I’m scared about taking creative license, and in others I just make it up. My Locksley, for example. 😛 Actually, that’s probably the only thing that has major making up to it in the world I’ve set up…hmm…

  4. Tracy

     /  September 15, 2010

    I might have walked that distance but unless he hitched a ride here and there I’m probably not much of a resource.


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