Love's Conundrum

Marianne Stokes 

Puck sat with his hands in his lap, trying to meditate. It was not working. His stillness kept getting interrupted by the conundrum that ever followed his thoughts - one that had him perplexed and vexed - and presented time and time again, whenever he was quiet … human love.

Elvish love, Spritely love, Elemental love, was predictable. If something or someone was loveable, they responded - and the heart knew what it knew, without needing consultation or argument.

But human love - now that was complicated. He sighed, and a daisy patch fell over beside him. Absentmindedly he waved his hand over the faerie ring and it sprang up again.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Not Francis

Charley had been avoiding her father for days now - her phone was turned off and she had arranged the staff to bring their meals. Surely they could do without her for a few days? Besides, she had little idea what her role was ‘moving forward’. Sure, she deserved some time away.

There was a sharp rap at the door. Her eyes went to Franco who was plugging his pipe, sitting beside the balcony window, wearing just his long kaftan. It was her father tapping loudly. He let himself in.

“How is our miracle boy today?” he said somewhat sarcastically.

She detected the unease.

“Dad, you can't just walk in here - Franco needs his rest, and a little privacy …" she stopped - he had his face on.

“This is not Francis” he said bluntly, and at the same time lit a spark in midair to ignite the packed pipe.

“It's Pietro - or Chips as you knew him - it is Francis’s father from some time ago. The real Francis departed at the bottom of the cliff three days ago."

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Dangerous to try to understand the workings of Evil

"Dost thou remember the old witch? The one with the tangle of skulls and the bevy of bones? It appears you have effected her burial in the church ground with a finger missing."

It is dangerous indeed to try to understand the workings of Evil ... nay even the character whether it be of mild or major form.

The witch Vivien was a strange one who delighted in the corruption of the innocents. One can never find reasons for the dark behaviours for in truth there is no reasonable light to explain the evils that drive their will. Suffice to say and be done with that, that evil worsens the more it is fed and the beast that it is holds no merit and no stoppage.

When Vivien was placed into the sanctified ground there had been a nob of her finger that became separated from her corpse and the little bones from her finger had fallen away into the trail of the little cart. Francis, Murmur and Tobias all missed this occurrence.

Granoldi however did perceive a good many things - he could see the fairies in the forest as well as the Demons in the trees - but around the monks with their lives of prayer he was unafraid.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

He Read Her Thinking

Her grace walked in step with the motions of the Cosmos - it was as though this woman moved in perfect time with the natural world around her. And, she saw him. When he caught the Lady’s glance, he found her to be looking right at him.

“What is yon halo?” he read her thinking to ask.

How could a mortal see anything of who he was?

She had been summoned by the keepers: two who stood protectively close by. The sound of their armour grated on his nerves. It was a little known antipathy he kept - metal on metal anguished his elven sensibilities.

“How could they tolerate their own noise?” he thought of the chatter and grind of the men of the town.

The Lady Marian laughed a gentle laugh …

“I wonder this also,” she whispered quietly to the enamoured Monk.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Worry Beard

He stroked his beard and its prickly resistance felt good across his fingers. It helped him to think, to plot his course, to ponder. Sometimes his fingers became his consciousness and his beard was the worry beads - the worry beard. If you rub your fingers along something coarse or smooth it draws the thoughts down and out of the overladen head. He needed this relief - now.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Unique Shining Spirit

“Life is spirit - not its surface view, and not even its workings - it lives, it dwells and is, Spirit. The true character of any place or person, any star or being, is not its divine design, but rather its unique and shining spirit.”

He seemed proud of coming up with that last sentence. She had to admit to herself it sounded pretty profound. She really liked this man.

“That still does not explain the bird poop and your amazing recovery” she laughed.

“It doesn’t explain anything” he said smiling and shaking his head - he thought he caught a glimpse of the great lion standing in the doorway as he said this … but kept that to himself.

“Faith is deeply personal. It's like the love affair you just want to keep secret between you and your lover, and never speak about to the world.”

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Life is neither the Surface nor the Interior

“Why did it seem perfectly natural to be showered in bird poop like that?”

Charley asked this even though she sensed that some things were never to be spoken of … yet still she felt she had to. Was she to regret it?

Francis looked at her with his black brown eyes.

“Some people say that it is better to never question a healing - let alone discuss the affliction, in case it returns” he whispered with mock solemnity. He touched her arm as he said this, and drew a line down to the elbow.

She had to wonder if he was again flirting with her.

“Are you superstitious?” she asked, caught up in a delicious moment. “Do you believe this?”

“Let me see …” he still kept his eyes fixed on hers “yes, and no. The world is not as it seems. We think that the surface view is all that anything is - but, in every single instance one finds that life is neither the surface nor the interior - and if you begin to look closely you can sense perhaps its spirit."


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances