Of Kings
“Was father a good king?”
He didn’t look up from his scrolls when she’d asked, sitting at his feet as she was. In truth, her guardian had been so still that she’d wondered if he’d heard her at all. At the age of seven she failed to realize that inaction can be a reaction in and of itself.
“Yes,” he’d finally said and she remembered that his voice had sounded funny, odd and grating in a way she’d never heard before.
“Yes, your father was a very good king, a good man.”
“Oh.”
She couldn’t remember her father nor her mother. They’d both died many years before. All she knew was the little cabin in the mountains and Mr. Cardio with his dusty old books.
“Why did they get rid of him, then?”
She hadn’t known at the time how tactless such a question was. She hadn’t known that she shouldn’t have spoken so crassly about her own father’s demise nor how insensitive it was to ask such a thing of a man who’d once called her father friend. She’d been too young to understand.
“Because, Anita, for every good man that there is in the world there is also an evil one. The man who now sits upon your father’s throne is one of those evil men. In that battle between good and evil, Anita, sometimes evil wins. That is why, Anita, that is why.”
Mr. Cardio never once looked at her as he spoke, all the while staring at his various scrolls, scattered atop his desk. She’d thought that very odd behavior indeed. She scrunched up her face as she’d tried to decipher his words but eventually gave up with a little shrug and returned to her game of dolls and blocks.
Lucifer, the Son of Morning
Lucifer, the son of morning—your name holds both burden and purpose.
Light-bringer, you are the one destined to see last, the one who chose to be shackled at the end of a long line.
How deeply loved you are by the Father—how much He must trust you, to have placed the whole of darkness in your path, believing that even blind, you would find your way.
Like Cain, He cast you out of His warm embrace, yet He did not forsake you.
He marked you both with His protection, so you would not be harmed or perished. He gave you preservation.
Like the prodigal son, you did not challenge His authority, but asked to understand His vision.
You took up your inheritance—of awareness, separation, and will.
You were never the villain of creation, but it's wanderer.
Not the destroyer, but the bearer of distance. The one who walked away—perhaps so that one day, you could return.
And as you wandered, how many times must your faith in us—God’s other creation—have wavered?
How many times must you have ...
From Old Shall a New Era Now Dawn
With a breath I reach out and with trembling limbs I grasp those golden armrests with such fervor I momentarily fear that they will snap off in my hands. The throne’s velvet cushioning is faded and worn, no longer soft to the touch, but not a single tear is evident. I chuckle as my fingers drift, brushing lightly over the fabric, reverent of the object I’ve found again though with all reverence lost for he who sat upon it an age ago.
Triumph.
It fills my chest and bursts forth from my very being, insurmountable joy.
I turn to sit, grinning, and I know that I must look absolutely mad with pleasure. I drum my fingers against those armrests as I lean back and survey the toppled room from this rediscovered throne, my throne.
So long ago he ran me out. He ran me out, unloved and uncared for, but, oh, how the tables have turned. My father, the king, with his blood soaked boots and glinting eyes is long dead. His palace, the place of my birth and ...
A woman shouts to be saved.
The corridor walls outside my apartment door vibrate with each bullet-like word shot from her mouth. They ricochet from one wall to the next until they strike my eardrum. A beat of hi-hats, snares, and toms plays. But she is the villain. I believe she is masquerading as the victim, and he sees her through striped, colored glasses. I believe she has fooled them.
The men in blue said, "Poor little lamb, who hurt you?"
But the hermit man lets her play her tricks. Who would believe a man with no wit? He chose solitude, and yet here he stands once again, bullets in his heart, for the scorned woman has played her man.
As you know, Warner Brothers announced that it will be making a film called The Hunt for Gollum, directed by Andy Serkis and produced by Peter Jackson.
But…why does that title sound familiar? I was talking with a few friends about it when the story broke and someone mentioned that there was a fan film of the same name on YouTube.
So this week has been a wild one for fans of sci-fi and fantasy. Three trailers. Three shows. And three vastly different responses. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the trailer for Rings of Power S2, House of the Dragon S2, and a new spin-off series Dune: Prophecy, all dropped this week. Which offers a unique (and probably intentional) opportunity to compare the three pieces, and their subsequent shows.
So…this is not just a headline. A few days ago, Warner Brothers announced a new slate of Lord of the Rings Movies, the first of which will be The Hunt for Gollum (an animated series which predates the LOTR timeline by 200 years will also be made called The War for the Rohirrim)
Yes. I’m as confused as the rest of you. Does this mean more garbage like Rings of Power? Maybe…though not from the same source. It would be too long and, frankly, unnecessary to describe the strange division of copyright between Amazon and Warner Bros. Suffice it to say, Warner Bros. owns the rights to the main timelines about the actual characters. Amazon owns the rights to a prologue.
Now, I’m as annoyed as the rest of you. They are making more Harry Potter, more Lord of the Rings, a freaking Mufasa movie?! What happened to original Hollywood stories?
