Allowed then to climb the ‘Shining Stairway’, Grace is nearer the rainbow but in more danger of being sidetracked by strange, even dangerous forces. The promised places are beautiful and intriguing but she learns to look back below the surface of her adventures and to make important choices. Suddenly back in the everyday world she is still herself but more so because she can see and understand more acutely.
Allowed then to climb the ‘Shining Stairway’, Grace is nearer the rainbow but in more danger of being sidetracked by strange, even dangerous forces. The promised places are beautiful and intriguing but she learns to look back below the surface of her adventures and to make important choices. Suddenly back in the everyday world she is still herself but more so because she can see and understand more acutely.
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Overview
Allowed then to climb the ‘Shining Stairway’, Grace is nearer the rainbow but in more danger of being sidetracked by strange, even dangerous forces. The promised places are beautiful and intriguing but she learns to look back below the surface of her adventures and to make important choices. Suddenly back in the everyday world she is still herself but more so because she can see and understand more acutely.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857286482 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Union Bridge Books |
| Publication date: | 03/01/2013 |
| Pages: | 182 |
| Product dimensions: | 9.00(w) x 5.90(h) x 0.60(d) |
| Age Range: | 13 - 17 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Rainbow
A Tale in Verse
By Michael Tolkien
Wimbledon Publishing Company
Copyright © 2012 Michael TolkienAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-85728-648-2
CHAPTER 1
GIFT OF WONDER
* * *
A fairly long chapter in which Grace has a lot to learn.
Ask Grace about her first memories and she'll be sure to say: lying awake early on bright summer mornings while the trees touched clouds and hid the sky behind their glossy coats. Roses rambled up and around the open windows, nodding to each other and keeping an eye on her. She could hear bees up and about and busy so long before her, buzzing into rose-hearts to gather nectar for honey. Some settled a moment on her window ledges. Had they stopped to wonder who or what she was before going home to their white hives beyond the long orchard? Often a swallow perched on her lowered window. Mister or Missus? She couldn't tell. It twittered, bowed and flew up to its mud-hut nest under the eaves, rough to look at, satin-smooth inside. She knew they came to live here every summer, hatched a family and took it overseas to warmer lands.
She didn't yet know that travelling far and wide made these birds wiser than those who only lived in one place. They knew that Grace was no ordinary little girl, how thoughtful she was, her delight in sights and sounds of summer mornings. So they must soon tell the earth guardians and guides who looked after plants, flowers and seeds how at an early age she was content just to wonder. Perhaps she'd be visited with gifts and advice.
So hidden and quiet are these beings that people like you or me seldom notice them, and no one's sure what shape or form they'll take. They only ever talk to tell us something important, set a task or a test. But swallows as they dip and swerve and swoop for bugs can see them, know when to make them listen, or ask favours in return for news from their travels.
Best not to disturb them in broad daylight when they watch over everything that grows green, then dies down for a long rest or to make way for something stronger and brighter. Wait for dawns when the moon still shines and their dancing and singing in open fields or woodland glades is over, dances that might be the rustle of birds through crisp leaves, songs like a gentle wind shuffling through blades of grass. For a moment they sit in circles to prepare another day of clothing and adorning the earth.
Then they'll listen and talk and give advice which may or may not be easy to understand at once. And to the wise birds with their rose-dyed fronts, sharp wings and forked tails they listened intently, happy to hear about Grace and how, without knowing, she delighted in the way they coloured and cared for the living earth. Nine of their lively company would visit her at sunrise when she lies awake, watching and listening as the world comes alive.
As they glided through blossoming orchards and gardens to the old, rambling house where Grace lived, birds had begun their full early summer song. Dew-laden leaves sparkled gold in dawn's slanting light and the guardians breathed with delight fresh scents from flowers they loved and tended. It was like the unspoiled dawn of time we often dream about but can't quite believe in, knowing the wonders of planet Earth's long, slow unfolding.
Grace lay watching a low sun set light to walnut and mulberry trees so they looked like bouquets of green fire clutched by black fingers, the long shadows of chimney stacks, when suddenly she noticed an altogether brighter light blaze up between her bed and windows. At first it seemed to come from kindly faces, then from their tall figures, each radiantly clothed in colours of flowers she thought she recognised. She was not afraid, just surprised, as if she'd opened a door into a well-known room and found instead a lofty conservatory lit up with flowering plants. The first to speak was robed in petal-like folds of purest white like the rose outside her window. 'We are flower guardians here to offer gifts. We know our work delights you. Your choice will decide the days ahead and colour your long life to come.' (Was this a voice or a breeze among glossy leaves?)
How strange it was to lie there and feel important! But Grace felt she had to look and listen with care while the guardians showed and explained their gifts, though all the details you will hear about seemed to take no time at all, so quickly and quietly spoken were they, their movements graceful as shapes and shadows of plants and flowers their garments made her think about. First Carnation Red unveiled from nowhere a spray of flowers whose shape and colour never stayed the same. 'This gift will make you the best of gardeners.' Then Marigold Amber held out a purse edged with silver, fastened by golden studs, embroidered in multi-coloured silks. 'Open this to become rich, build upon your riches, be envied and admired.' But Sunflower Yellow outshone her sister, dazzling Grace with a mirror framed in finely-crafted wood and gems. 'With my gift you will be sure of yourself, amaze the world with discoveries and travels.'
Camomile Green seemed more kind and loving. She unwrapped a shawl that looked like a field of waving daisies. 'Take this gift to put others first and wrap them warmly in your care.' Her close companion, Deep-Pink Clover, watched and smiled but had no gift to give except her perfect scent, while Forget-Me-Not Blue showed Grace a book, its leather spine hinged in turquoise jewels, its covers front and back flecked with sapphire. 'Open this and you will hear every sound whatever its pitch, and speak so well everyone will listen to your words and praise your powerful voice.' Darker blue than her was wood-shaded Bell, who drew a tiny casket from her nightfall robe. 'This changes colour as your thoughts turn over. Look inside and see deeper and further than ever.
Six tempting gifts! Should Grace choose now? No. Another figure was coming towards her.
Purple Heartsease seemed to offer a bunch of sturdy little field pansies, but they folded into a smooth stone with smoky shades of violet. 'When you feel wonder, roll this amethyst gently between your left palm and fingers and you will see silken threads of purply-white entering your stone. It will grow close to you as time goes by, and in it you'll begin to find strange scenes or faces that have much to say.'
All at once without knowing why, Grace reached out and took this stone, no bigger than her slender thumb, light as tissue paper. Her test was over, and the guardians looked pleased as they faded from sight so that even a perfect summer morning seemed a little less bright. But Heartsease stayed and sat on the bed beside her. 'Why were there all those wonderful choices?
None seemed right, then I took your gift which I don't think I really understand.' 'What you will begin to see,' answered Heartsease, 'is that all those other blessings work less well if you lack the gift of open-minded wonder. Achievements and adventures should surprise or sadden, make your heart leap or shrink, teach you to think.' 'Suppose I give up wondering? What then?' asked Grace. 'You will grow old before your time.' 'Surely old people still wonder,' insisted the little girl.
'Think of it like this,' replied Heartsease firmly. 'People who wonder never grow old. Their hair may be white, their skin cracked and legs weak but the gift of wonder keeps them young and alert. Like yours their hearts and minds can discover what lies within and beyond the Rainbow. And you are just beginning a long journey that will unravel this mystery as long as you follow your stone and fill it with feelings of wonder.' 'Rainbows shine and vanish. They're a trick of light, my uncle tells me,' said Grace. 'Looked at one way that's true,' replied Heartsease, smiling kindly. 'But wonder shows you more than meets the eye. Even we guardians appeared like a rainbow. Remember the colours? If you are patient your wonder stone can lead you to the rainbow and beyond, revealing that every answer is only the start of many more questions.
Grace, whose aunt and uncle always liked her to ask questions and tried to answer them, was excited but puzzled by these strange ideas. 'How can I do all this and discover everything you've told me about?' Heartsease only laughed gently and said: 'It's now time for me to go about my work among my flowers. Think of purples, mauves and violets and think of all I've said. Keep wondering about what you see and hear, and fill your precious stone with these thoughts. Watch its colours and patterns grow richer and more intricate. Don't hide your gift. No one will ever be able to see or touch it. Your adventure has just begun. We'll soon meet to start its funny, sometimes fearful journey.' And even as she spoke the lovely guardian became part of morning light and summer colours that seemed to dance and summon Grace outside.
She must have been daydreaming. It was still early. No one was moving about the house. Had any time passed at all? But she was still clutching the polished amethyst in her left hand. What could she say to Aunt Miriam? Uncle would laugh before she had finished. No words could describe what she had learned and felt. Perhaps she sensed that words can break a spell and wonder can't be shared with someone else.
CHAPTER 2DREAM PEDLAR
* * *
A chapter in which Grace finds out how she has to put up with being puzzled.
Not many weeks later Grace wandered beyond the crumbling walls of formal flower gardens to see how well the orchard trees were showing their first tiny fruits, and feed scraps to the geese her uncle kept there to peck the grass down. As they squabbled and screeched over their food, Grace glanced at her amethyst and found it pale and patchy, as if waiting for new colours. Then she thought she heard a voice singing nearby. Was it coming from a bush, a tree or from beyond the tall thorn hedges? Struck by its piercing sweetness she began to rub her stone between her palm and fingers and to hear these words: Among violets below the hedge I'm waiting for you. Heartsease always keeps her pledge. She's here to guide you. The stone was ablaze with dancing purple flames.
'Violets are so small and frail, how could they conceal the tall, graceful Heartease?' asked Grace, as she searched the shaded hedgerow. And just as she was about to give up altogether the guardian came smiling towards her in long folds of airy, shimmering violet. Like a long-lost friend she drew Grace into a close embrace that smelt of delicate scents, fresh leaves and warm earth. How could she be so warm and loving and yet so quick to fade or shrink beyond sight and touch? 'I'm no nearer to finding the way to the Rainbow and beyond, as you described it. Can you help me now?' To which Heartsease replied, singing in the voice that had filled the orchard:
It's up and down a staircase,
Through and beyond a wood.
Just follow where dreams lead,
And do whatever you should.
'But I want to start at once,' argued Grace. 'You should be eager but not in a hurry,' answered the guardian firmly. 'It's not a race! And if you're in a rush you won't stop to fill your stone and make it more precious with the riches of wonder. Dwell on every surprise or you will never reach your goal.' 'First please tell me the way.' But with a wave of her hand Heartsease seemed all at once to say goodbye, bless the girl with luck, and sweep herself away into thin air. And though the day was warm and still, Grace noticed how a breeze combed and shook the clumps of violets, which somehow made her feel even more alone in her quest for the Rainbow and its mysteries. Why not begin by following the long, white dusty lane that ran beside this tall, dense hedge? Long ago she'd found a way to squeeze underneath where rabbit burrows had undermined the roots.
After crawling over loose earth Grace scrambled through nettles, hedge parsley and giant hogweed and across a sodden ditch onto the rutted lane: where were the carts, horsemen, other passers-by? On the other side as far as she could see each way ran a high wall of yellow stone and over it hung here and there branches of ash and elm, dragged down by clinging ivy. Along one there ran a red squirrel. It paused to look down at her, tail still waving from its headlong rush. Did it just blink or was it winking at her?
No use talking to animals, but so many strange things had happened, why not try? 'Please, does this lane lead to the Rainbow?' It looked alert and pointed a foreleg at the ditch. There, oddly clear among green surroundings, sat a fat emerald frog. Its wide-open mouth made it look too content to notice Grace.
It hopped towards her as if it knew she'd something to say. Stooping down she asked respectfully: 'Can you tell me the way to the Rainbow?' Frogs are not polite. 'Ask the Owl,' it croaked, and jerked its broad head towards a thick cluster of ivy hanging from the wall. Grace felt she was being tossed rudely back and forth across the lane. And then she saw two eyes watching her through a screen of ivy leaves. Their heavy lids blinked and creased in a way that made them look worldly-wise and full of knowledge. Surely the owl would think her foolish. She must be patient if he spoke. It felt like a 'he'.
His voice seemed to come from deep in his chin and must have been muffled in thick feathers. 'I have no idea, none at all,' he muttered, As if to say 'how should I know?' and 'why am I being bothered with questions I can't answer?'
Which left Grace feeling foolish and bad-tempered. But a friend she'd never met happened to fly overhead: the swallow who once told the guardians she had the gift of wonder. He swooped down, zigzagged about her and said in a breathless twitter: 'Ask flowers that colour and cheer the verges of the lane. They won't just pretend to help.' Was this another hoax, she wondered. She passed red campions that looked puffed up and proud, feathery stitchwort that bent away and wanted to be left alone, but a cluster of speedwells caught her attention, and as she stopped to admire their sea-blue petals they seemed to return her gaze and asked in a welcoming chorus: Can we help? 'Thank you. I doubted if I should ask,' said Grace, outspoken as ever. 'You are so frail, wither so soon and only live here.' The answer was a chime of finely-tuned bells. They were laughing!
It's not like you who have the gift of wonder to think we're ornaments that fade away. The way we live and die and live and die is slow but sure, and makes us all the stronger.
The more folk hurry, the less time have they for things that grow and creep and spread. Look and listen in unlikely corners. Fill your precious stone with thoughts of us.
Stooping closer, Grace found each flower had its own face, a delight she wound into her wonder stone, and asked: 'Don't you die?'
We feel weary so our petals flop and fade making way for seeds to grow and spread. Our colour's stored by careful guardians. One day you'll visit Nature's Nursery and see that nothing's lost or wasted. Everything returns and helps to make this living world you love and wonder at.
You are on the right road for the Rainbow, through The-Wood-That-Is-Not-There, visiting the Halls of Guardian Spirits. The Dream Pedlar will guide you.
So much to grasp whenever she dealt with flowers! Grace felt lost. 'Where is this pedlar of dreams?' Where the long white lane turns north he'll be waiting if you're in luck. Maybe we'll meet again. Who knows?
As she thanked them and at last made her way along the lane, a voice like the one she heard in the orchard filled the air with piercing song.
Who knows the secret tint of speedwell blue Or why forget-me-nots are seldom blue?
Who can teach us what the thrushes have to say, Or why the lark sings best at break of day?
Who can smell the wild rose scent, or tell Us how its heart-shaped petals work their spell?
Where the lane turned, a weathered stile parted the hedge. And under its tent of dog rose sat the Pedlar of Dreams. Not a road-weary, ageing pedlar like those who called at home with heavy packs of sewing things or gaudy trinkets laid out in rows and curves to tempt your purse. This young wanderer was cleanly dressed in beech-leaf green, his dark, curly hair threaded with ferns. One small satchel lay beside him. He was fitting together a long, silver pipe, and when he played Grace began to twist and turn as if the notes were urging her to sing and dance. But she was not the only one to feel like this. At the piper's feet stretched velvet moss, surely a carpet to display his pack of dreams? ... No! Summoned by his pipe and swaying to its spell, tiny creatures from field and hedge were gathering there, meeting for the strangest dance you could imagine.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Rainbow by Michael Tolkien. Copyright © 2012 Michael Tolkien. Excerpted by permission of Wimbledon Publishing Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Preface, xiii,First Part Across and Towards,
About Grace, 2,
I Gift of Wonder, 3,
II Dream Pedlar, 13,
III Rainbow Bridge, 23,
IV Downcast Don, 31,
V The-Wood-That-Is-Not-There, 37,
VI Heartsease at Home, 45,
Second Part Over and Under,
VII The-Wood-That-Must-Be-There, 53,
VIII Well, 61,
IX Forge, 67,
X Ancient Rock-Heart, 77,
XI Welcome Back, 83,
XII Colourful Care, 91,
Third Part Beyond and Back,
XIII Shining Stairway, 105,
XIV Castle in the Air, 111,
XV Menace, 123,
XVI Rainbow Garden, 135,
XVII Rainbow Palace, 147,
XVIII Home?, 155,