Needs work, but it's a start

And, if anyone has an idea for the "middle", I'm all ears!

The City of Trebhor

Once upon a time there was a young squire named Roderick Peredur. Squire Roderick, or simply Roderick to his friends, was a courageous and humble young man. His family, the Peredur’s, were of modest means, but they were sure to give Roderick every opportunity to grow into an intelligent and well-schooled young squire.

As part of Roderick’s education, he was sent out into the world to travel and experience other cultures. Roderick was provided all the basics for his excursion: a horse named Cabalina, canteen of water, blanket, basket of food, weapons, parchment, and writing quill. Roderick’s mission was to meet others, live with them for at least one moon cycle, learn their ways, and write of his experience. To his question, “What if I run out of supplies?” the answer was, “You must work with others – and with nature – to replenish your supplies.”

One late spring morning, Roderick set out to the west. He travelled in the early morning, and found shade in the mid-day, so as not to dehydrate himself or his horse, returning to his campaign in the late afternoon. Finding shelter at night was not difficult; knowing whether or not another creature inhabited the spot was so. One night he had to make peace with a black bear, who kindly let Roderick escape after his offer of an armful of apples. Another night, wolves circled he and Cabalina until Roderick threw them the dead rabbits from his satchel. Roderick began to hope for a civilization soon.

On the fifth day out, supplies running low, and Cabalina in need of more than grass, Roderick came upon a field with children playing with hoops and sticks. Roderick stopped and the children surrounded him and Cabalina. Their eyes were filled with wonder and the mouths smiled with awe.

“What a beautiful creature she is,” whispered one girl, so as to not upset the horse.
“We do not have any such creatures as beautiful in our kingdom. Please, sir, who are you and from whence do you come?”

Roderick smiled. “My name is Squire Roderick Peredur of Sylvian. I am on an educational quest – to meet and learn of new cultures. From what town do you come from? And how far a distance? My Cabalina and I need proper food and rest. I would be most grateful for your help.”

An older boy, not much younger than Roderick, anxiously approaches the squire. “Please, sir, my name is Carsten, of the blacksmith Logan. My friends and I are from the city of Trebhor, just down this hill and over the next. We will take you there, if you will allow us.”
“Thank you, Carsten. I would be much appreciative if you and your friends would accompany me to Trebhor.” Roderick lifted Carsten and one of the girls, Bedlia, onto Cabalina. The other children ran playfully with Cabalina’s riders down the hill and over the next.


Once upon a time in the town of Trebhor there lived a blacksmith named Logan. Logan’s son, Carsten, and three daughters, Chloe, Constance, and Christabelle, lived in one of the larger houses near the town center. The children’s mother, Cosmina – whom all the children resembled, with their flaxen hair and bright green eyes – died when giving birth to Chloe. Over the last ten years, the family lived a rather normal and ordinary life; Logan was teaching Carsten the blacksmithing trade, as Constance and Christabelle kept house and raised Chloe. While Constance was content with her place, Christabelle was anxious and knew there was more to the world than dishes, diapers, and dairy cows.

During one of Christabelle’s walks through the market she noticed a new cart on the street. It was very different from all the others: the wood was painted beautiful shades of peacock violet and lemon yellow, a myriad of bells and chimes hung from the bright orange canvas shade, as did pieces of glass flashing with rainbow light. The older woman leaning on the cart was someone Christabelle did not recognize but somehow seemed familiar. With apprehension, Christabelle moved toward the cart and the woman.

“Hello Madam,” said Christabelle. “I do not recall seeing your cart here before. Are you new to our town of Trebhor?”
The woman’s smile was warm and friendly. “No, my dear, I am here only for a few days. I am on my way to Mornastead to meet with my,
“Sisters.” The woman’s hesitation intrigued Christabelle as did the name of the town – Mornastead, she said to herself; Mornastead. Her emerald eyes flashed with revelation.

“Madam?” Christabelle’s voice was hurried and excited. “May I go with you, on your travel to Mornastead? I will be of no bother, I promise you. I know how to hunt small game and cook it; as well as forage for edible nuts and berries. I have gold coins to offer you, if necessary.”
The older woman’s smile grew. “My child, there is no need to bribe me to take you on my journey. It will be my honor to have a bright and vital soul travel with me.” With her hand out in greeting, “My name is Merilyn Zephyrine Septimus. Oh, don’t look so bewildered, Christabelle, I would not expect you to say that mouthful each time you address me! No, please, just call me Merilyn.”

Christabelle felt warmth and calmness move through her body. She felt mysteriously safe and almost enchanted by Madam Septimus; or as she reminded herself, Merilyn. But, curiously, she did not remember telling the woman her name. “Madame, oh, Merilyn, I do not recall giving you my name. How did you know it was Christabelle?”

“I heard someone talking to you at another cart. The man said your name and asked how your siblings – Carsten, Chloe, and Constance – were doing. He also asked about the health of your father. He is not ill, is he?” Merilyn was quick with her response and the words flowed like an easy stream from her lips. She did not miss a beat.

Christabelle assured her new friend that her father was just fine, but was worried he would not understand her wanting to leave Trebhor. She asked Merilyn to go with her and speak to her father. Merilyn agreed. Christabelle helped her pack up her cart, tie it to her horses, Meadow and Storm, and they walked toward Blacksmith Logan’s home. Along the way, Christabelle told her brief life story and how she thought it odd her father would not talk about his ancestors, the Heled’s. Merilyn assured her that, when it was time to know more, all would be revealed.

Logan met Christabelle and Merilyn a few feet from the family’s house.
“Oh Father! I have the most wonderful news!” Christabelle leaped into her father’s arms. “I am going to Mornastead with Madame Septimus! I can finally see the world, meet new people, experience more of life!” Her fervent joy nearly overwhelmed Logan. Logan was suspicious, but managed a slight smile at Merilyn as he hugged his daughter.

“Now, hold on, sweetheart. You have only just met this woman; and why the hurry to leave your home? You are still not married, nor even promised to anyone. How can I trust that you will be safe?” Logan’s voice was fearful but gentle. He always knew the day would come when his restless daughter would leave Trebhor; he had just hoped it would not be so soon.

Constance and Chloe stood at the house door beckoning for their father and sister to bring the new friend in for supper. Christabelle ran to her sisters, lifted and hugged them both. She said something just above a whisper, and the three girls let out shouts of glee. Logan looked at Merilyn, who herself was smiling so broadly the wrinkles on her nose and forehead looked lovely to Logan. He shook his head as if to clear cobwebs, and with a smile, he waved his arm inviting Merilyn to go ahead. “After you, Madam Septimus.”