Where science-fiction and fantasy, religion and mythology, blend together. Rabbi Roni Tabick delves into the mythic dimensions of Judaism and writes fantasy from a religious perspective.
Showing posts with label princess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label princess. Show all posts
Monday, 26 November 2012
Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his Dreams - Part 2
Part 1 is here.
Jack Numbskull sat on the rock outside the black fortress, held his head in his hands and stared glumly at the blue sky. His mother had been right after all, he had no idea where even to begin - the king of the giants? four rings that are five? what did any of it mean? No, he would have to go home a failure. What would his father think of him if he could see him now?
And just as he was sure he would never see Aurore’s smiling face again, he heard the magical sound of her singing rising over the hills.
He bounded up and raced towards her, his heart thundering inside his chest as he beheld her beauteous form.
“Jack,” she said, and offered up a small, shy smile.
“Aurore, my love,” he replied, “I was beginning to think I would never see your beauty again, for your father’s challenges are too much for me.”
“Oh Jack,” she answered, “do not fret - I will help you overcome all obstacles, for together surely nothing can stand against us.”
He grasped her delicate hand in his, and gently kissed it.
“You are as generous as you are radiant,” he said, and together they strode off towards Grayhome, the land of the giants.
Monday, 19 November 2012
Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his dreams - Part 1
Her beauty was, of course, legendary. Even in the Palace of Dreams itself, tales of Aurore’s golden curls and entrancing smile were whispered over the endless feasts. Talk of her beauty was the joy of every young man who dreamt of romance, and the envy of every young woman who dreamt of the same. But hand in hand with the tales of her beauty came stories of her father, Noxus, and his unreasonable and overwhelming attachment to his only child - for he would not allow anyone to court her who had not passed a series of gruelling tasks. What exactly these tasks were, none could say for certain. Some described ferocious battles with seven knights dressed in black. Others said that whoever would marry Aurore must best her in a chariot race or bring her a black diamond. But all one could say for certain was that many had sought her hand and so far, none had succeeded and, having been bound to secrecy, none would describe the challenges they had faced. But suitors kept on trying and kept on dreaming.
Jack Numbskull had just turned sixteen years old, and felt ready to strike out on his own. His mother, not being an especially adventurous dreamer, had raised him on a small farm. Jack had helped to plough the fields, sow the seeds and bake the bread of dreams. At night, they had sat by the fire and Jack listened to his mother tell him all about the noble deeds of the Duke of Dreams, the Dusk Warrior and Sir Gallant, grandmaster of the mouse. Jack did not remember his father - his mother would say nothing about him when asked but shake her head sadly - so Jack used to imagine that his father had also been a brave hero, riding to the rescue of those in distress.
Now Jack was no longer a child and he longed to have his own adventures, go on quests that his father would be proud of. So naturally, when his mother told him the story of Aurore, he resolved to make his way to her house immediately.
“Jack, my son, no one has yet passed the tests of Aurore’s father, Noxus. How can you hope to succeed where so many have failed?”
“Mother, I must go to seek my fortune wherever it lies. The Unreal gods will guide me.”
“Jack, Jack. Must you go? Will you not stay here and mind the farm. Who will help me when the harvest comes?”
Jack smiled. “Dream up a donkey mother, for I must be off to see the Dreamscape and win my bride. It’s what my father would have wanted.”
His mother smiled a little at that, and nodded absently. Jack Numbskull gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek and set out on his way, whistling tunelessly as he went.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
