Knights of Arrethtrae- Sir Quinlan and the Swords of Valor

This book, the 5th in the Knights of Arrethtrae series, is my favorite and has encouraged me immensely.

Sir Quinlan begins the story going by his nickname, Twitch, because of a tick in his cheek that sets off whenever he is nervous about something. He struggles with self-confidence and self-pity and feels that everyone else is better than him and he can never aspire to anything greater. But events that unfold bring him to a place that Quinlan must begin claiming who he is. With the help of a Silent Warrior, Taras, he begins to better his skills at arms and his self-confidence builds. Eventually he is tested and tried until he becomes the leader of the elite group of knights, The Swords of Valor, to fight against the growing evil in Arrethtrae.

Here is my favorite quote..."When you believe the truth about who you are in the Prince, you will be that which you want to become. You cannot add anything to that which the Prince made perfect. All you can do is believe Him who made it so." ~Taras 

If they were to make a movie of this book, that would be awesome, especially if they kept to the storyline of the book without adding any Hollywood junk... 

I think Wes Brown would make an awesome Quinlan...



And I think Winona Ryder  would make a great Lilam...

Lily Rose

As I am writing the last few words of my story and the characters slowly fade from sight, I feel the presence of a new character standing in my room. I write the last word and put the story aside, revealing an empty page. I look up. There stands a young lady, her curls gracefully touching her shoulders, and her delicate white hand reaches out to me as if in silent plea. Her sky blue eyes glisten in the light with unshed tears and I nod in understanding, taking note of her age and appearance on the page before me.
       Once more I stare at the lovely girl. An unfelt breeze ruffles her blue chiffon dress and I see dust blowing lightly over her small white shoes. The Dust Bowl Days, I think, and she nods as she tosses me a pure white lily and a crimson rose. She points to herself and I write her name. Lily Rose.
       Scenes of tragedy and triumph flash before my eyes as the life of this amazing girl unfolds. As everything begins fading away, in desperation Lily calls out to me with a beautiful voice, "Write my story, Lydia..."

I will, Lily Rose. I will.

Robert the Bruce (To Douglas in Dying)

'MY life is done, yet all remains,

The breath has gone, the image not,

The furious shapes once forged in heat

Live on though now no longer hot.

'Steadily the shining swords

In order rise, in order fall,

In order on the beaten field

The faithful trumpets call.

'The women weeping for the dead

Are not sad now but dutiful,

The dead men stiffening in their place

Proclaim the ancient rule.

'Great Wallace's body hewn in four,

So altered, stays as it must be.

O Douglas do not leave me now,

For past your head I see

'My dagger sheathed in Comyn's heart

And nothing there to praise or blame,

Nothing but order which must be

Itself and still the same.

'But that Christ hung upon the Cross,

Comyn would rot until time's end

And bury my sin in boundless dust,

For there is no amend.

'In order; yet in order run

All things by unreturning ways,

If Christ live not, nothing is there

For sorrow or for praise.'

So the king spoke to Douglas onceA little while before his death,

Having outfaced three English kings

And kept a people's faith. 

Edwin Muir

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar. 

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Excelsior!

The shades of night were falling fast,

As through an Alpine village passed

A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,

A banner with the strange device,

    Excelsior! 

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,

Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,

And like a silver clarion rung

The accents of that unknown tongue,

    Excelsior!


In happy homes he saw the light

Of household fires gleam warm and bright;

Above, the spectral glaciers shone,

And from his lips escaped a groan,

     Excelsior! 

"Try not the Pass!" the old man said;

"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,

The roaring torrent is deep and wide!

And loud that clarion voice replied,

    Excelsior! 

"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest

Thy weary head upon this breast!"

A tear stood in his bright blue eye,

But still he answered, with a sigh,

     Excelsior! 

"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!

Beware the awful avalanche!"

This was the peasant's last Good-night,

A voice replied, far up the height,

     Excelsior! 

At break of day, as heavenward

The pious monks of Saint Bernard

Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,

A voice cried through the startled air,

     Excelsior! 

A traveller, by the faithful hound,

Half-buried in the snow was found,

Still grasping in his hand of ice

That banner with the strange device,

    Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,

Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,

And from the sky, serene and far,

A voice fell, like a falling star,

    Excelsior! 

Scots Wha Hae

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,

Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,

Welcome to your gory bed

    Or to victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour:

See the front o' battle lour,

See approach proud Edward's power

    Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?

Wha can fill a coward's grave?

Wha sae base as be a slave?

    Let him turn, and fleel

Wha for Scotland's King and Law

Freedom's sword will strongly draw,

Freeman stand, or freeman fa',

    Let him follow me!

By Oppression's woes and pains,

By your sons in servile chains,

We will drain our dearest veins

    But they shall be free!

Lydia's Lavender Boutique

I am starting a blog for my sewing projects! Check it out! http://lydiaslavenderboutique.blogspot.com/

What a Grievous Tragedy!!

I can't believe how long it has been since I've written! So much has happened in the last few months! My family and I went to Ohio twice and now we are living in a different town! Whew!

If I could write blogs like I write stories, I would have many more posts for you, dear readers. I just can't type fast enough! :)