Lord Sparhawk was exiled to Rendor by King Aldreas because he was a threat to Annias the usurper. In those ten years under that heat, he became known as Mahkra and promptly lost his wits. That is, the powerful sun beat into his skull like that of all other Rendors. The Gospels of Rendor were written by fanatics—fanatics like Arasham—of distant places that they really knew nothing about. You can just imagine how entranced they were when they started writing, though. If you, too, share their enthusiasm of far away tales, then read on.
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Title
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Author
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Type of Writing
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Inspiration
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The Escape
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Asilin
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Poetry
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Elenium/Tamuli
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A Moment's Shadow
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Ehlana
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Poetry
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Elenium/Tamuli
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The Angarak
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Asilin
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Story
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Belgariad/Mallorean
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The Outsider
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Shane
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Story
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Elenium/Tamuli
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Funeral
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Ehlana
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Story
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Elenium/Tamuli
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This poem here was written in a contest I held, and it relates the the Elenium/Tamuli series.
Date Written: February 23, 2002
The Escape
The night was dark and moonless
The stars were hiding too.
It was the perfect night
For a thief bold and true.
The young figure snuck away
From the gate so swiftly,
That anyone who noticed it
Would forget it quickly.
The young thief smiled in glee
He just might be finally free!
Away from the training and all of that,
Back to where his life wasn't an act.
He moved quickly toward his old place,
His feet setting a fast pace.
He didn't need any light
For his journey on this night.
Soon he came upon the hideout
He easily avoided the lookout.
But alas! He was luckless tonight,
For Sparhawk was waiting for him, all right.
Talen sighed and hung his head
His heart filling with growing dread.
But Sparhawk smiled and gave him a wink,
He knew why Talen was trying to sneak.
Tomorrow was to be the wedding
Of he and Princess Danae.
Talen had had no say in the matter
So he was trying to sneak away.
---Asilin
This poem also relates to Elenium/Tamuli, by moi ;).
A Moment's Shadow
A soft breeze ruffled his tunic and hair,
Though offering no comfort in its chill.
It was only this night as he rested on his roan
That he realized that this would be no thrill.
Uneasily he sat, his keen senses well aware,
When involuntarily a hand came to his hilt.
The flash of a hardy woman well and fair
Printed upon his mind beyond another's lilt.
Sighted to his left, he sensed a dark form,
And of its lighted eyes he glimpsed
A momentary, passing memory
That of all things made him wince.
Within the tight confines of heart,
Never had he known such pain
That but a single reminiscence might bring
Where forever before it had dormantly lain.
Apart from those brilliant, bright eyes,
That had recently passed him by,
Not was the illumination that may
Allow his fleeting moment recollection.
Was it just the flashing white hair
Condemned to shape with ever despair?
Nay, this one knight knew well
That as his torment began to swell
None other could it be but the cherished Martel.
---Luella Garies
