The Warlock, The Feather and The Blacksmith’s Son was my attempt to create/emulate a fairy tale in the style of The Brothers Grimm.
Though it might seem a ridiculous feat, the major writing motifs involved are really quite absurd: written in a plain and overly jovial manner, killing off the main character’s family and friends within mere paragraphs of the story’s introduction and providing nothing more in the way of character development for the protagonist than the flaws of gullibility and an over-caring, unburdened heart. Fortunately for me, this combination of motifs seems to have worked in my favour.
One night in the spring of 2005 I was sitting in my room working on a newly-mangled rendition of The Gingerbread Man for a high school English Literature class assignment. The piece of prose wasn’t due for a week or so, but I figured I’d take a crack at it and see if I could get it out of the way early, and so there I sat at my desk scrawling various fairy-tale ideas on the open word document before me.
Finally frustrated with no idea of how to get this story out – and bored – I sauntered into my younger brother’s room and asked him to name an arbitrary object that I might be able to build a story around.
He recommended using a feather – since The Legend of Zelda series of video games always seemed to find a way to incorporate a feather object that the player would collect to enable powers for jumping or gliding.
Pondering this idea for less than 30 secs, the entire plot popped into my head and I sat down and in a matter of an hour or so I had spewed the entire thing out onto my computer.
I handed the assignment in a week later and received an A+, and shortly thereafter decided to tweak it slightly and resubmit it to a writing competition through the local paper The Timmins Daily Press.
Subsequently, and to my surprise, I ended up winning the competition…..with a story I came up with in 30 seconds……..to this day I’m still in shock, but I guess someone thought I did something right…….
:D
Once upon a time there was a kind and widely revered blacksmith who was blessed with three sons. It was unfortunate when his eldest son died, when he was thrown from his horse, and the blacksmith began to teach his second son the ways of his trade. The blacksmith died soon afterwards and left his smithy to his two sons.
Although the son was not as crafty as his father, he still received praise for his work. Misfortune struck the family again when the second son grew very ill and left his brother Jake to take over.
Jake was never trained in the ways of the blacksmith by his father, and even though he tried his hardest it was no surprise when business began to diminish for the smithy. As ill fate would have it, the elder brother died from his sickness, leaving Jake alone in the smithy. Unable to work successfully as a blacksmith, Jake began to travel to the local marketplace to sell his family’s belongings in order to buy food.
One day, in the marketplace, Jake came across an old man who appeared to be searching for something on the ground, and yet no one in the market seemed to take notice of him. Jake, inheriting his father’s kindness, approached the man and asked, “why do you search the ground, have you lost something?”
“I seem to have lost my spectacles. I am horribly blind without them,” replied the man.
“Certainly I could be of some assistance” said Jake, who was always eager to help, and found them coincidentally laying not six inches from his right foot. “Here they are,” exclaimed Jake, as he handed them to the old man, who snatched them up with badly scarred hands and fixed them around his small rounded ears quite hastily; Jake knew better than to ask about his scarred hands, so he remained silent.
“I thank you, young lad,” said the old man, finally standing upright in his unkempt apparel and towering a foot above Jake, even in his old age.
“Why did no one help you in your distress?” asked Jake with concern in his voice.
The old man’s face grew very serious as he responded to the question. “I am a warlock and I cast a spell upon myself so that I could only be seen by someone with a very kind heart and good spirit. I have waited for some time for someone to arrive, and now I have found you.”
Jake began to grow curious, as the old man continued to speak. “I have been seeking such a person, so that I might bestow upon him this.” And with that he removed from his garments, a glimmering feather that shone with a brilliant red splendour.
“This feather comes from an ancient and magical bird. It grants its owner the ability to levitate at will, as well as great speed, and I give it now to you for I believe you will find it of great value,” the warlock said as he handed the enchanted feather to the young man.
“But what shall I do with such a gift?” asked Jake.
“Travel west,” said the warlock, “there I think you will find its power put to good use,” and the warlock surrounded himself in the cloak of his garment and evaporated into the very air itself.
Confused by the events that had transpired, Jake returned home and had a good night’s rest. In the morning Jake decided that he would heed the words of the old man, so he took his remaining belongings, for there were not that many left, and sold them in the marketplace.
Traveling westward, on horse, Jake was pleased when he discovered that the road ran along a great river, which flowed rapidly in the same direction from whence he came, a sign that he would have plenty of water for his journey.
After several days he saw a figure drowning in the river. Not being a strong swimmer himself, Jake dared not venture into the water, but decided that he should at least try to use his gift from the old man, even if it didn’t really work.
To his surprise when he grasped the feather firmly in his hand and pictured his feet leaving the earthy soil, his vision materialized and he found himself hovering a foot above the ground.
Quickly he maneuvered himself over to the figure, pulled him from the water and brought him to shore. The boy, twelve or thirteen years old by our reckoning, was very grateful for the rescue. “I thank you kindly good sir,” spoke the boy. “I found myself caught in the currents of the river after I was thrown from a bridge by a thief when he robbed me.”
“There is no need to thank me,” Jake said as he handed the reigns of his horse to the boy.
“For what reason do you show me the reigns of your steed?” asked the lad, as he wrung the water from his shirt.
“You have more need of transport than I, and I would much rather walk and enjoy the scenery,” replied Jake.
“You have my great thanks,” said the boy, “you can be sure my father shall hear of your kindness, as well as your amazing feat.” The boy mounted the horse and rode off down the road in the direction in which Jake traveled, before Jake could even ask the boy of his father.
Jake travelled for a day on foot and at about mid-day came upon a blazing inferno that was flaming from a farmer’s barn.
“Someone help! A thief set fire to my barn!” cried the old farmer as he ran about the property, frantically waving his arms in the air.
“What can I do?” said Jake, nearly out of breath as he ran to the scene as fast as his tired legs would carry him.
“My prized hen is trapped in the roof of the barn, and the door upstairs is latched shut from the outside.”
“Leave it to me,” said Jake. Still not quite sure of the powers of his feather, he grasped it firmly, levitated up to the door and unlatched it.
The door burst open, as the hen flew into Jake’s arms and he carried it down to the old farmer unscathed. Jake left the farmer in a state of shock at the deed he had performed, and the old farmer could barely mutter, “Thank You,” as the expression of bewilderment on his face was enough to show that he could not believe that Jake had just floated through the air.
Jake finally arrived at a town at nightfall. As he was walking through the marketplace he saw a thief grab a woman’s money purse that she had left unattended.
Finally believing in the powers of the feather, and feeling that this would be an ideal opportunity to test the speed powers of which the warlock spoke, Jake drew the feather from his pocket, grasped it firmly, and sped after the thief.
It was not long, merely seconds, before Jake had caught the thief and returned the woman’s purse, before she even had the chance to notice it was missing.
“Halt There!” Jake heard a voice cry out from behind him. He turned to find an armoured guard approaching with great pace.
“Is this the man?” the guard said to another figure behind him.
“That’s him,” replied a familiar voice, and the light of the marketplace revealed the figure emerging from the shadows to be the boy from the river.
“My father, the King, wishes to speak with you,” said the boy, “he was most curious, and interested in meeting the man who saved my life.”< And so, Jake was brought before the King, and the thief, who ironically was the same thief who had thrown the prince from the bridge and set the farmer’s barn on fire, was brought to jail. “I am most grateful for your aid. Your kindness is unrivalled in these parts,” said the king. “However, I was wondering if you would be able to help me with another problem that I have, what with your extraordinary capabilities.” “I shall try my best,” Jake replied as he humbly took the seat that was offered to him. The king cleared his throat before he began. “My daughter, was taken from me some time ago by an evil man, and I request that you bring her back to me. She is guarded by a treacherous volcano and an impenetrable wall in a horribly evil fortress, but it seems as though your strange powers might be able to overcome them.” “I will set out then, and do your bidding,” Jake replied, and after learning the location of the stronghold, he set out on his new quest. Jake approached the dark fortress with caution, as he did not know what danger lurked in the shadows of the chasm in which it was found. The fortress, though seeming evil, did not seem as dangerous as the King had made it out to be. It even appeared as a ghastly mirror of the King’s own magnificent castle, but still Jake proceeded carefully. He reached the bottom of the chasm to find that the fortress was surrounded by a moat of lava. Easily, Jake surpassed this obstacle quickly using his trusty magical feather, hovering a safe distance above the molten rock so as not to be burned. At the foot of the stronghold, Jake found there was no door to gain access to its grounds, so he again used his feather in order to swiftly ascend the wall and gain entry to the fortress. Once inside, Jake discovered that the grounds were empty, save for one wall directly ahead of him in which there was a single door. “Not so fast!” said a familiar voice, and yet when Jake glanced around the room there was no person to be found. Jake returned his gaze to the door, only to discover the old man standing between him and the door, no longer unkempt, but garbed in robes that were surely made of gold. Jake’s confusion was surely not unexpected by the warlock. “I took the princess in order to draw you here,” said the warlock, “and now I shall also be taking back my feather.” Jake became even more confused. “You gave me this feather, why would you want it now?” “It was impossible for someone without a kind heart to transport it without a punishment,” the warlock said with a sneer on his face as he raised his scarred hands in the air, “but now that it is here it is mine.” The warlock lunged at Jake and grabbed at the feather still firmly grasped in Jake’s hand. However, when he touched the feather, his entire body vanished leaving behind only his magnificent robe. Instantly the volcano was transformed into a spring, the molten rock turned to water and the fortress was cleansed of its evil presence. After showing the feather to the King, Jake learned that the feather had once belonged to him. The warlock had stolen it, with difficulty, and dropped it in the river. The feather then travelled down the river to Jake’s town, where the warlock retrieved it and waited to find someone who could transport it to his lair, where he planned to cast his evil magic on the feather so that he could use it, since only someone with a pure heart could use or carry it. Jake also learned that because he had been using the feather for good, its power became more focused on good. Thus, when the warlock touched the feather, he was instantly overcome with good and destroyed. Jake married the princess and became a King himself, in the warlock’s castle no less, and the magical feather remained a family heirloom, to be used when another warlock arose, or when one needed to hang a very high tapestry.
