Culler The Caledonian

Culler The Caledonian PictThis will be new and I hope very cool. I am writing a story. The story will unfold as it comes to me. Each chapter I write I will put the rough version up here to read. The story will be of a Knight and his journey through life, what comes along the way and revelations that surface as his spirit grows. Read deep or just enjoy the surface story. I hope reading the story will touch you in the same way as writing it does for me.

Culler The Caledonian

Sitting at the morning table the knight pondered over his bowl of oatmeal. He had won so many battles and claimed hundreds of honors yet still felt empty inside. He had worked hard all his life and achieved all the goals and titles that the other knights only dreamed of.

He was truly blessed.

Done with the idol thought he headed out for training. Since he was a young man he dedicated 6-8 hours every day becoming the best in warfare and weapons. He was the best and praise followed him wherever he went.

Closing the heavy oak door he headed down the gravel path through to the common area of the castle. The “Veritas” as the villagers called it was started when he was a teen. He still remembers the day they were going to tear the old oak down. Busy with activity he stopped at the big oak in the middle of the sitting area. Every time he walked by the centerpiece he would take a few minute to give it a quick clean and tidy. He would pick out the odd piece of litter or remove a dead oak branch. Any thing that didn’t belong in that beautiful place was carefully removed.

The town crier startled him to movement as he often did. The knight, known as “Lumen” in these parts, often lost track of time during his daily ritual.

Quickening his pace, he went over some ideas he had for the Veritas. Last year he added two bird housed that are now filled with two families of swallows. Their morning songs bring him joy each day on waking.

The year prior to that he added a wishing hole. That was the year a large battle had taken the parents of many families leaving scores of children with no shelter of food. With the help of Socius the local wood worker, it took only 1 days time and a tenth of his pay for the night to get the wishing hole built. It was a small hole dug into the centerpiece with a wooden gnome holding a sign: “Wishes are free, pence on delivery”. Long story short, the centerpiece wishing hole and gnome grabbed enough attention to fill the gathering box on the inside weekly. Who would have known that you could make all the money you wanted by simply asking and then taking a little action. That money built a shelter and created a system that fed homeless children for many years after. They named the charity after Lumen.

The clanging of blades and muffled grunts of exertion told him the other knights had started their days training. He wasted not another minute before he had someone on their backs staring up at the glint of a warriors sword.

Culler The Caledonian PictAt first he bellowed, smiled, and then let out a sigh as he pulled the steel away from his partners neck. Lately he doesn’t want what he has always chased.

Today being a knight holds no joy. Hoping no one will notice his sensitive state, Lumen heads to the one place he likes to think, the Veritas.

Lumen has the perfect place for the flower seeds he picked out on the edge of the training fields. He ponders as he plants.

“I wish to do something great, something worth while. I understand the importance of what I do, and I am the best there is. Yet, I want more of something I know not.”

So he kept planting and moving the soil, for here was the one place his mind found peace. Lumen went home that day thinking deep thought and looking for something he has never seen. Impatient without direction, defeated despite hundreds of victories.

The next morning, slow in thought from a night of racing mind, Lumen skipped breakfast and went to sit at the Veritas early before the crowds were thick and busy. The swallows were getting ready for the day and Lumen watched from the log bench he himself had built one day after sword play and unarmed combat.

Momma swallow was rubbing a fluffing and the baby swallows were singing and bumping around inside their house. The sun was coming up over the glowing golden thatches of the towns’ old but sturdy shops. As the drops of heaven sprinkled across the square the flowers Lumen planted radiated with colors at the highest edge of the rainbows spectrum. He cried.

The beauty was unspeakable and his air was caught in a swelling throat. Wiping a chain mail glove across tear soaked cheeks; he set out to do what he was good at. Battle.

In his mind he heard the voice of another ancient warrior. A peaceful warrior and a warrior of light:
“Where your tears fall, your treasure lies.”

On second though, training could wait. A flashing smile had caught him in his tracks. A tilt of the head and a subtle hair flip had the usually sure-footed Lumen stumbling over himself. It was Venustas that had him in such a mess. She was the physical manifestation of Gods thoughts on beauty. Now instead of tripping over himself he looked like a buck, startled from an afternoon nap. “Good morning Lumen”, sang a melodious song from a heavenly creation. Nothing was the reply, but a sheepish grin and a convulsion of his head he did manage. Forgetting his hand was encased in a chain mail glove, he slapped his forehead as she disappeared around the corner. He didn’t know what he should have done, but he knew THAT wasn’t it.

He loved training but uphill wind sprints in half armor was a bear of a drill. It followed close behind a pushup, squat, jump combo they did as a friendly competition for drinks at the pub after training. Unfortunately if you played hard enough to win, you were usually too busy getting rid of stomach contents to be interested in filling it up with ale.

As intense as the training of a knight was, he loved the total focus and oblivion like trance that such a single pointed activity brought him. No matter what troubled him, Lumen could always attain a peacefully focused state when under extreme exertion. When the energy ran low however, the waking monkey of a mind would return. If only he could be at peace while still. Maybe like training, peaceful stillness was something that needed to be practiced until it could be done as easily as battle. With that thought, Lumen took a break from training and sat in the shade of an old massive oak. He leaned back and let the bark scratch an itch. Wit a couple of shifts back and forth like an old bear, he got comfortable, closed his eyes and the clang of heavy armor faded into the distance.

He sat on the edge of a cloud, his metal shin guards reflecting the beams of sun. As far as he could see, galloping rays of blinding sun jumped from peak to peak, petal to petal of endless apple blossom sky. He looked on in amazement at the surface of a sea above land. In the depths, below the surface of where he sat so much was happening. Up here, when taken in as a whole, it was all but an exhalation of a massive leviathan living in a time much slower than ours

The trees looked as hairs on its back, moving in the ocean currant. The hills and ravines as features of an entity that has experienced time since it started. Looking on this world from such a view brought deeps questions up.

“What is important? If I know what is important to me, what makes me happy, then I can plan to conquer the foes that keep my treasure guarded”. The breeze of a hawks wings swept past and the sensation brought him to waking.

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