So I visited a good friend last night, had a little too much to drink, and so I'm not exactly functioning at full capacity at present. Several times I have tried and failed to write something new, several times have I started and stopped with little to show for it. Likely I'll try again later, because sub-par or not, I'm starting to enjoy the creative outlet. And besides, I know that at least Danielle cares about what I posts which makes me super happy and excited! heeheehee. Friends are the very best!

The following is Chapter 4 of the fairytale- where the history begins to bleed into the immediate and our real story starts.

"Hey there George Lucas, slow down a minute!" you may be exclaiming indignantly. "Why start with chapter 4?!"

Well I do apologize for that, and I can't speak for Mr. Lucas, but here's the deal with chapters 1,2, & 3 at present: they are in abysmal shape. They suck a fair amount of balls. They stink up the joint.

They need work.

And while Chapter 4 needs work too, it is, I think, at least not completely groan-worthy and an utter embarrassment.

{Incidentally, when I was in about 4th grade, embarrass was a spelling word and it was giving me a great deal of trouble. I couldn't seem to remember how many Rs and Ss there were supposed to be. Know how my mother got me to remember it? "Barr, like Roseanne Barr, then Ass, because Roseanne Barr is an Ass." Thanks Mom!}

So Welcome to the World of My Fairytale. So far you've only met our mysterious and exotic friend The Brujo. Here we wrap up the 'prologue' and get a taste for what's to come!

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The Tutor

“And so the realm of Sylvemerce knew reprieve from the terrible drought and the deathly famine and the fearsome dragon attacks. Rivers ran full again and crops un-withered and were harvested with much celebration. Trees stood tall again and bore marvelous fruit, ever ripe and never sour, the people of Sylvemerce ate their fill of what nature provided and drank deeply from the new springs and burgeoning brooks.

“The Sun too was less overbearing; appearing less in those first few months after the king’s child was born, and so the scarred fields and parched soil knew mercy—and for this the people were glad. For months the grateful folk of Sylvemerce rejoiced in the sudden and stable tranquility of shorter days and longer moon-full nights of plenty and prosper. For a time the people did not miss their Sun overmuch, so long had it seemed to torture them and their livelihoods, but before too long the almost endless clear nights became a matter for concern.

“Soon the inhabitants of the realm of Sylvemerce became aware that their lives and their land had been seriously altered, bewitched. They ate their fill from the never fruitless trees, they quenched their thirst from the persistently surging rivers, they hunted and fed on game that was ever replenished and reaped the benefits from an always renewed natural source, but something was amiss.

“For, scribes and wisewomen say, that The Witch had kept her word to The King on the day of his child’s nativity and granted solutions for all The King’s conceivable worries. But too it seemed that the fabled Brujo from the far-off land had been right: Their lives were apparently ever changed, and a strange malcontent settled over the countryside.

“You see, despite the many wonderful bounties bestowed upon the land, the people grew sad and ungrateful. Because they never had to work hard for their rewards they became lazy. Since everything renewed magically without fail, they grew complacent. Owing to the fact that they had everything they needed without merit or question they learned to feel entitled and bored. And as beautiful as they found the cool, unwavering moon and her shining stars, they soon grew tired of seeing it at all times-- for even when the sun did shine (dimly for three hours every day) the moon sat in the sky, pale but ever-present, stubbornly presiding over the realm like a warden.

“So, out of boredom and discontentment the people began to turn on one another. Crime became commonplace and thieves a fixture in the towns and on the roads. The populace now invented games that involved fighting and daredevilism for entertainment rather than activities that would expand the mind. Wives were callous to their husbands. Brothers were especially cruel to their younger sisters. Dogs growled meanly and cats snapped sharply if approached.

“For nearly 16 years this malaise settled like a shroud over the pretty hamlets and patchwork farms of the once fair Sylvemerce. Those who were alive and old enough to remember the drought and famine days still liked to tell tales about the unending rays of sunshine, and caution that ‘hard work makes happiness’, but mostly the time was forgotten. Days without change of climate, weeks without alteration of routine, months of continued status quo, and years of the same made most people forget the past and ignore any musings on the future. The present seemed all-consuming as the time wore steadily on- or was suspended, as one theory suggests.

“There could still be found a measure of good and happiness in some stouthearted individuals. Some, who were inclined to learn their history and stop staring out of windows at the passersby for instance . . . Your Highness . . . That means you!”

It was the first hour of sunlight that day at the castle and Young Professor-to-be Gage Tancreed was having a difficult time holding his pupil’s attention. He had just been appointed as the Royal Tutor that week and was anxious to keep the position. His wayward, willful student wasn’t making things easy for him.

“Sorry Gage – Ooops! I mean Professor.”

Gage tried not to flush at the familiar address and failed gallantly. Sweeping a stray strand of dark auburn hair from his face in annoyance he attempted to compose himself.

“As I was saying your highness,” he emphasized the proper title pointedly, purposefully not slipping into familiarity with his childhood friend. “The Period of Lull as many scribes are presently calling it, has produced a generation of daydreamers instead of doers. A young populace consistent mostly of idle lallygaggers and-“

Gage stopped short, quite flustered by the peal of laughter his student couldn’t suppress.

“Daydreamers! Lallygaggers?!?! Hoo-hoo, you sound like an old man Gage- I mean Professor Gage!”

As the silly laughter filled the room Gage slumped his shoulders in defeat. Maybe if they weren’t so close in age- he thought gloomily -he only a learned 17 and the royal heir only about a year and some months younger - this would be an easier task. Maybe if they hadn’t been playmates since early childhood right up until last week-- goofing off between studies and playing pranks on the kitchen help. Or maybe he wasn’t ready for the challenge of tutoring.

Of course, it didn’t help matters that this was the week of The Royal Coming of Age Celebration at the castle, and of naturally throughout the land. His pupil’s 16^th birthday was fast approaching and to try to focus on the dreary history of a realm as old as time seemed an insurmountable task.

“All right.” Conceded Gage with a heavy sigh. “We’ll leave the lesson there for today. But it’s not your pretty neck if you don’t learn this stuff though Dez, please remember that. It’ll be me that faces the consequences.”

“Oh Gage you sound so serious, so dire!” She exclaimed. “The Sun’s out at last and you’re gloomy! What is the world coming to?“ The tone was light, teasing and mischievous. “Aww, don’t pout friend- c’mon lets go out to the stables, snag a few steeds and make a little expedition into the long meadow- what do you say?”

“As tempting as that sounds, highness,” he ignored the snort of mirth and continued in a voice as mature and authoritative as he could manage: “I’ve been ordered to escort you to the main hall where some final preparations are underway. “ He chanced a sideways look at his best friend and now-pupil to see if his words had any impact on the headstrong mischief-maker. When no reply came he continued: “I believe you have to be fitted for a dress.”