Grail Quest

Grail Quest

A Story by Lea Sheryn
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A group of village children search for the Grail

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Grail Quest

By Lea Sheryn

 

Prologue

 

Eventide had fallen upon the small hamlet of Glen Vale when the distant clop-clop of a tired steed could be heard in the whirling mist that began to circle about the foundations of the huts along the boundaries of our community.  Everyone, elder and youngster alike, turned their ears toward the sound as we all wondered who could be out and about on such an eerily chill October afternoon.  Since the entire population of seventy-two souls were accounted for, we eagerly awaited the arrival of the lonely traveler. 

 

Clop, clop…clop clop, the horse’s hooves echoed around the village as slowly, ever so slowly, it approached.  Was it friend or was it foe?  The thought was unspoken but known to one and all as we came to gather around the central fire where the women were preparing our communal evening feast.  Activity came to an abrupt stop as every eye turned toward the shape of the ghostly white animal as it stepped from the mist.  Upon his back the upright figure of a Knight of the Round Table sat fearlessly even though it was apparent he had traveled a far distance to reach our meager establishment. 

 

“Galahad!” Paxton the Younger shouted as he jumped to his feet to point toward the gallant adventurer as the horse came to a stop at a fair distance from our evening fire.   At once, all the children turned their attention toward the newcomer.  The legend of Galahad and the Quest for the Holy Grail was known far and wide across the Isle of Britannia.  As a group, the children of Glen Vale rushed the infamous man who had suddenly arrived to share our evening repose with stories of his daring exploits.

 

“Stand back, stand back,” demanded Osmond Brainblood as he stepped in front of the rush of youngsters as they attempted to be the first to reach the famed knight.  Tall and Viking blonde, fourteen-year- old Osmond stood far above the other children. 

 

“Aw, c’mon, Oz,” his youngest brother, Neville exclaimed as he attempted to push between the elder boy’s legs.  “It’s Galahad!” 

 

“Do as you’re told, frog,” Courtney�"the middle brother of the Brainblood clan�"commanded as he grabbed hold of the youngster’s tunic to drag him back.  “Give Sir Galahad a little breathing space.  He’s come a long way and doesn’t want a bunch of braying children nattering at him the moment he arrives.”

 

“Let the children gather,” the renowned knight cheerily announced as he alighted from his mount.  Handing the reigns to Osmond, who was displaying his most arrogant pose, he declared: “See this horse is refreshed with water and a good rub down.”  Turning his back upon the young man who had never done a menial job in his life, Galahad grasped the hands of Odelyn the Mason’s daughter and Keeley the Waif.  With the little girls skipping along at his side, he moved toward the communal fire to introduce himself to the village elders.

 

In the red and orange flickering firelight, with our empty dinner plates still in our laps, the children of Glen Vale listened in rapture as the son of Sir Lancelot and the Lady Elaine, spun the tale of the Quest for the Holy Grail.  Although we had all heard rumors about the search, it was of interest to all of us to hear a first-hand account of how twelve Knights of the Round Table set off to discover the whereabouts of the relic. 

 

Believed to have been brought to the Isle of Britannia in the care of Joseph of Arimathea after the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, the Holy Grail was the chalice used during the Last Supper.  Suspicion had it that it was hidden in the custody of the Fisher King somewhere in the dense forests of our island homeland.  Anyone who possessed it would gain great knowledge. 

 

The twelve who set out to discover it were the bravest of King Arthur’s Knights: Galahad, Lancelot, Gawain, Percival, Lionel, Tristan, Gareth, Bedivere, Bleoberis de Gannes, Brunor le Noir, Lucan and Palomedes.  Names known to all the children as we eagerly anticipate the tale told by one of the best-known personalities of the Mighty King’s circle of companions.  None of us knew how lucky we were because after that fateful evening, no one would ever see Galahad alive again.

 

Chapter One

 

The name of Galahad was on all our lips the day after his visit.  One evening had been enough to get our youthful minds spinning in imagination.  Oh how the boys of our small community wished to grow up to become Knights of the Round Table.  All our play centered around the escapades of King Arthur and his faithful attendants.  Lancelot, Tristan, Gawain, Gareth and Palomedes were mentioned time and again as we pretended to be Knights Errant roaming the countryside in search of adventure or a damsel in distress.  After listening to the Galahad stories late into the night, the children of Glen Vale were awake bright and early next day to wave him on his way as he set off in pursuit of his next caper.  Once the dense forest surrounding our village enveloped him, we exploded into a cacophony of excitement.

 

“We can search for the Grail ourselves,” exclaimed Durwyn Redface, son of the blacksmith.  His perpetually blushing cheeks swelling as a huge grin spread across his face.  The leader in most of our play, the eleven-year-old boy was already showing the strength of his father.  His brawny body rippled with muscles he gained as his sire’s apprentice.  Knowing his leisure time was soon to disappear, he managed to slip away from the forge as often as possible. 

 

“We’ll search far and wide,” Neville Brainblood announced wholeheartedly, as he leaped high in the air.  Blonde-haired and blue-eyed like his brothers, Osmond and Courtney, he would grow up to carry on the Viking traditions of his ancestors.  Adventure should have been his middle name. 

 

“Maybe we can just search around the gardens and orchards,” Ham Mason countered as he took a huge bite out of an apple.  A roly-poly little lad, the pockets sewn into his tunic were always crammed with snacks stolen from the communal storehouse.  It was just like him to find an easy way out of doing any manual labor whether it was in work or in play. 

 

Although standing silently outside the ring of boys discussing their plans for the day, Odelyn Mason heard every word.  Her heart beating frantically with excitement, she finally spoke her thoughts: “Why don’t we split into two groups; boys and girls?” 

 

Angry eyes focused upon the speaker as all the boys shouted their displeasure.  “Girls can’t be Knights of the Round Table,” Neville Brainblood finally spoke for the group.  “Go play girl games.”

 

“We can play whatever we want,” Odelyn exclaimed in indignation.  Standing beside her, the lonely little waif, Keeley, nodded in agreement.  Odelyn and Keeley were constant companions.  Both eight-years-old, they had grown up together in the mason’s hut.  When she was six months old, the little waif had been discovered outside the boundaries of the community early one frosty March morning.  Discovering the child wrapped in a flimsy garment, it was Blythe Mason who brought her into the little family to raise as her own.  An attractive little child she grew up as an unofficial sister to young Odelyn. 

 

“No, you can’t,” Durwyn countered as he stepped up next to Neville.  “Girls can’t…”

 

“Girls can’t what?” questioned the voice of a new arrival to the group.  Tall, blonde and muscular, Faline Brainblood, was the cousin to the brothers of the same name.  Twelve years old, the lass kept her cat-like body warrior toned; she never played girl games.  After hearing about the scheme to hunt for the grail, she quickly took charge of the mixed group of questers.

 

“Can’t play girl games,” her cousin, Courtney, exclaimed as he stepped into the group to face Faline.  “So get lost and take your lasses with you.  One day you’ll realize your duties are to cook, tend the crops and make babies.”  Tapping himself in the chest, he exclaimed: “Me mighty warrior; you babymaker.” 

 

The roar that exploded from the throat of the young tomboy caused all the other children to take a huge step backwards.  They had seen this drama play out before between the two cousins.  Within seconds, the fight was on!  It was Faline who made the first move by pushing Court to the ground.  The dust flew up around them as they rolled this way and that in the dirt.  Suddenly Faline was thrust into the air as Court heaved her over his shoulders then squatted to leap onto his cousin.  Before he could make his move, the tomboy’s agile form sailed across the space between them then spun around to lunge again. 

 

“Stop it!” Osmond Brainblood shouted as he dragged both youngsters up by their collars.  Bringing their heads together with a crashing blow, he asked: “What’s it all about this time?” 

 

“The boys won’t let the girls play.” Odelyn stepped up to say. 

 

“What are you playing?” Oz inquired as he dropped Faline and Court into the dust at his feet.

 

“We’re going on a quest for the Grail!” Neville shouted in glee. 

 

After much consideration, Osmond finalized the plan.  “There are twelve Knights who went on the quest.  How many boys are there?”  Deliberately he counted them.  “Seven.  How many girls?”  Again he made a deliberate count.  “Five.”  Using his fingers and stopping to consider carefully, he eventually came up with the correct number of children.  “Twelve!” 

 

Still scowling at each other, Courtney and Faline faced each other as they began to gather their questers together.  Odelyn raced around the village to bring all the female children to cluster around the leaders of their escapade.  Including Keeley, the girls’ group increased by the appearance of Edyth Pritchett and Petula Elford.  The boys’ contingency comprised of the Brainblood Brothers�"Osmond, Courtney and Neville, Paxton the Younger, Ham Mason, Durwyn Redface and me--Daegal the Chronicler’s Son.

 

Just as the children began to make their way into the dense forest surrounding the small hamlet of Glen Vale, Durwyn Redface shouted out: “WAIT!”  Everyone stopped to turn in their direction.  Once the young lad had everyone’s attention, he spoke his mind.  “What are we searching for?  The Grail, right?  Who has it and where can we find it?” 

 

All the youngster stared at each other with perplexed expressions.  They had forgotten the most important part of their quest: the Holy Grail.  Chest-fallen they realized there was no reason for their play if there was nothing to search for.  Studious Paxton the Younger came up with the answer.  “The Fisher King hid the Cup of Christ.  Who will play the Fisher King?”  Since there were only twelve children, no one was dispensable to take on the part. 

 

“Wynnstan can do it,” I finally suggested.  At age twenty-two, my cousin, Wynnstan, hardly fit in with the rest of the juveniles.  However, although he had the age and body of a grown man, he retained the mindset of an eleven-year-old child.  In a flash, I set off to locate my relative to bring him into the group.  On my way, I picked up a chipped flask that had been discarded at the gathering of the previous night. 

 

It took a great deal to explain to my cousin what he was to do with the Holy Vessel.  Once he understood, he took off at a trot to disappear into the forest.  Giving him a good head start, the company of pretend Galahads, Lancelots, Gawains and Palomides were ready to dash off after him.  And that we did; boys and girls�"in singles and pairs�"were all on a Grail Quest. 

 

Chapter Two

 

“What are you up to, Young Ham?” Eldwyn the Mason inquired of his son.  The young lad was hanging back at the edge of the forest when his father discovered him. 

 

“I’m on a quest, Father,” the roly-poly little boy answered.  Ham didn’t like the forest�"it was dark in there and there were animals roaming about.  He didn’t mind the deer so much but, in his opinion, wild boars made better dinners than playmates.  As much as he longed to participate with the other children, he thought he would make much better progress at the edge of the woodland. 

 

“What sort of a quest?” the patient father asked.  Although often disappointed that his son didn’t take after him, he loved the boy just the same as he loved his bright little daughter, Odelyn.  For some reason, his wife, Blythe, coddled the boy; perhaps it was because he had shown up two months early and hadn’t been expected to thrive. 

 

“A quest for the Grail,” Ham responded with alacrity.  His fear of the forest didn’t overshadow his enthusiasm for the game. 

 

“Keep up the good work, lad, and you’ll find it for sure,” the older Mason encouraged, with a smile.  “And, tell me, where is your sister and the waif?”  When Ham pointed into the woodland, the mason’s grin widened.  At least one of his children was a go-getter.

 

While young Ham retained his position at the edge of the forest, the other children were deep within it.  Having caught a glimmer of Wynnstan’s red tunic, Paxton’s voice rang out in triumph as he raced to capture his objective.  Winding through the dense growth of trees, he came within inches of grasping the older lad’s clothing.  Just as he began to grab the fabric, he tripped over a root that was standing six inches above the ground.  The last thing he heard was the fleeing laughter of the disappearing figure. 

 

Noticing his friend fall, Durwyn Redface stopped to assist.  With the true gallantry of a Knight of the Round Table, the blacksmith’s son was prepared to forget his quest in order to help his longtime companion.  Once Paxton was on his feet again, the two boys set off to search together.  Nothing in the rules said they couldn’t so off they went in pursuit of Wynnstan. 

 

Osmond, on the other hand, was nonchalantly wending his way through the woodland.  It wasn’t his way to put much enthusiasm into any task or game he participated in.  Wanting all the glory but none of the expenditure of energy, he was headed toward a small pond located far inside the dense forest.  It was, in fact, the secret swimming hole of the three Miller sisters, Hilda, Verona and Devona.  Not sure which one he was most attracted to, he enjoyed standing in the shadows of the looming trees to watch them skinny dip in the cool waters. 

 

Meanwhile, Courtney and Faline were busy stalking each other.  Neither one wanted to make way for the other; it wouldn’t do if there wasn’t a big dose of un-sportsmanship between them.  The two cousins were always in competition with each other.  No matter where the young lass went, her male relation was close behind her. 

 

“You’re supposed to be searching for the Grail,” Neville’s voice called out when he noticed his relatives circling each other.  He knew, if he didn’t interrupt them, there would be another knockdown drag out fight. 

 

“Shut up, Nev,” both cousin’s shouted at the same time. 

 

“Stop fighting!” the younger boy insisted as he pushed himself in the middle of the two antagonists.  “All you do is fight!”

 

Looking at each other and nodding, Faline suddenly lifted Neville and held him up against the nearest tree.  With a swift movement, Courtney grasped the battle ax he always kept tucked into the belt of his tunic and pinned his younger brother to it.  Grinning at each other for the first time, the two young people disappeared into the woodland together. 

 

“Hey!  What about me?” the little boy yelled at the departing figures.  “Let me down, will ya?”  Kicking and straining to set himself free, Neville realized he was trapped. 

 

Hearing the shouting through the thick undergrowth they were crawling through, Paxton and Durwyn discovered Neville and quickly unpinned him.  The three companions went off together in search of the Grail. 

 

In company with the little waif, Odelyn reconnoitered the forest with her eyes spying in every direction.  Longing to be the one to find Wynnstan and the Grail, she wanted to prove to herself and to the others that she was as good as any boy.  A feminine little piece of humanity, she was a determined child with a will strong enough for any task.  Noticing a flash of red to her left, she dashed off pulling Keeley in her wake.  Instead of discovering her objective, she fell upon Edyth and Petula sitting on the ground with the stump of a tree between them.  Having fashioned cups, saucers and plates out of leaves, they were busy playing house. 

 

“Have you come to play with us?” Edyth innocently questioned as she raised a leafy cup to her lips.  “There’s plenty of room for everyone.”

 

“You’re supposed to be on a Quest for the Grail,” Odelyn exclaimed, “not playing house.” 

 

“We found it,” Petula responded as she displayed one of the cups. 

 

“That’s not it,” Odelyn responded as she turned away from her girlfriends in exasperation. 

 

“What are you doing in the midst of the forest?”  The shrill voice startled the girls as the two tea partiers jumped to their feet.  All for youngsters recognized the intonations of the Woman of the Woods.  Known only as Sheena the Witch, all the young children feared her. 

 

“Be gone, little girls, before I come after you!” the sorceress exclaimed with a cackle.  “The woods are no place to play!” 

 

Screeching at the tops of their lungs, the youthful lasses fled in four different directions.  Petula and Edyth didn’t stop running until they reached the safety of their own huts while Odelyn caught her breath and, getting herself back together after such an awful fright, continued on her own.  Poor Keeley was left deserted and afraid.  She had never spent a moment of her life out of the sight of her adoptive sister.  Blindly walking through the woodlands with tears flowing down her cheeks, she knew she would be lost forever. 

 

“Come to me, my sweet one,” a soft, pleasing voice whispered through the dense trees. 

 

Without hesitation, the little waif drifted steadily toward the melodious voice.  Suddenly she was taken up into the arms of Sister Bernice.  The kindly nun, who resided at the Convent of St. Dwynwen, often visited the village to offer prayers and medical assistance to those in need.  Throughout the years, she paid special attention to the little waif by bringing her special treats and little icons she handcrafted in the nunnery.  Keeley had a special feeling for the kindly sister. 

 

“I’m lost,” the orphaned child wailed as she flung herself into the nun’s arms. 

 

“You are never lost when you’re with me, my own little one,” Sister Bernice declared as she softly kissed the waif’s silky brown hair.  Hugging the child close, she whispered a secret she had long kept from the world. 

 

“Mother,” Keeley cried as she buried her head deeply into the Sister’s flowing habit.  Suddenly all thoughts of despair flew from the child’s brain as she found herself home at last.

 

Silently, I�"Daegal the Chronicler’s Son�"stood at a safe distance from the mother and child reunion.  As I memorized the scene to spin into the tale I was developing for prosperity, I felt tears drift down my cheeks.  The sight was so tender and loving I desired to treat it with the gentleness it deserved.  In that moment, I understood the hunt for the Grail wasn’t really about the Chalice of Christ but rather the pursuit of our own destinies.  The entire escapade would, in effect, create the adults we would grow up to become.  The game had become much more important than we had expected.  

 

Chapter Three

 

Slowly, one by one or in couples, the children of Glen Vale drifted across the boundaries of our small village.  It had been a day filled with great adventure.  There were triumphs and disappointments, joys and fears.  And, yes, there was a sense of fulfilment. 

 

After witnessing the reunification of Keeley the Waif with her matron, Sister Bernice, I found myself with the sense that I was unnecessary to the scene.  Leaving them to the young foundling to the privacy of the first loving moments of motherly love, I was the first to return to our hamlet.  Sitting against the walls of the Chronicler’s hut, I enjoyed an excellent view of the entrance of the other participants in the Grail Quest. 

 

Neville Brainblood, Durwyn Redface and Paxton the Younger were the next to arrive.  All three had sworn a pact to remain boon companions for life.  Huddled together in a tight group, all they could talk about was running off to join the Knights of the Round Table.  In the next moment, they were reenacting their capers around the small huts of Glen Vale; they were at the element of their young lives.  How much longer their childhood would last was hard to tell.  Too soon they would be young men with families of their own to care for.  The days of youthful excitement are far too short but the memories they create would remain with them all their days.  The Quest for the Grail taught them the importance of friendship and the willingness to help each the other guy in times of trouble.        

 

Grasping the hand of Sister Bernice, Keeley the Waif was the next to arrive.  Beaming with excitement, she glowed with her newfound love.  No longer a foundling child, she was secure in the affections of her mother.  As they entered the village, Blythe Mason looked up from where she was helping to prepare the evening meal.  A secretive smile played across her lips as she noticed the look exchanged between the Nun of St. Dwynwen and her young adopted daughter.  It was apparent in their glances that the long-kept mystery of the child’s birth was revealed.  Blythe too was happy within herself.  The confidence kept between the real-life sisters after Bernice’s ill-fated affair with a monk residing in the Monastery of St. Baruc next door to the Nunnery resulted in the child would no longer be kept in the proverbial closet.  The result of the Quest was a mother for young Keeley.

 

While Blythe and Bernice were busy fussing over the ex-waif, Ham Mason was kneeling behind the storehouse.  Having become bored with search the edges of the forest, he followed his nose to his favorite place.  Spending the afternoon filling his tummy with a sampling of all the available sweet things he could lay his hands on, the results hit him as suddenly as a stampede of wild boars.  What happened is hardly fit to describe in a story for the ages but let us say it was not a pretty sight.  Gluttony is, after all, one of the deadly sins and the roly-poly youngster was deep in the results of it.  The Grail for the greedy little fellow was a lesson in moderating his hunger.  From that point on, he left his lazy ways behind to learn the mason’s trade.           

 

It took a long time for Edyth Pritchett and Petula Elford to come out of their family’s huts.  Both girls held a deep-rooted fear of the Woman of the Woods.  Edyth’s elder sister, Esyllt, had lost her life as a result of a brew concocted by Sheena the Witch to end the result of an affair the child had with an unknown village elder.  Holding a heavy influence over Petula, Edyth had induced a fear of the sorceress in her companion.  Their adventure in the woodlands taught them it was safer at home.  They desired a place at the communal fire and the care of their families.  Thus is the fate of so much of the feminine populace of our times.  

 

The sun was just setting when Osmond strutted into the village surrounded by the Miller girls.  Beaming with joy, he was basking in warm thoughts of spending the afternoon in such delightful company.  His arm flung across the shoulders of a shivering Devona, it was obvious she was the favorite of the trio of sisters.  The fact that all four of them would wake up with head colds from swimming in the pond on a nippy autumn day never entered their minds.  Their thoughts were warm ones�"warm enough to overcome the chill in their bodies.  When asked if he discovered the Grail, Oz exclaimed that a woman’s body was the chalice since it provided new life to the community.  From that point onwards, all his past nonchalance fled as he became the willing servant of Hilda, Verona and Devona.   

 

Most surprising was the appearance of Courtney and Faline Brainblood.  The two opposing cousins had discovered a kinship for each other on that fate-filled day.  Spending the day meandering through the woods, they spoke to each other in civil tones for the first time in their lives.  The young tomboy was able to relay her feelings for the land and her strength as a warrior.  She believed girls were as good as boys in all things; after so much discussion, Court viewed his kin in a different light.  Instead of being her rival, he learned how they could combine their strength to become a force to be reckoned with.     

 

Night fell with no sign of the missing Odelyn.  Blythe Mason’s delight at the reunion of Sister Bernice and Keeley disappeared as anxiety set in.  One of her children was lost deep within the woodlands!  Every fear imaginable flew across her mind as she and Eldwyn paced back and forth before the entrance of the village.  Had the child run afoul of a wild boar or the Woman of the Woods?  Where was she?  The forest was cold at night and the dense trees became scary shapes in the dark.  A lost little girl was the concern of the entire community.  The populace felt much concern for the poor Mason family. 

 

Mannix Brainblood, the leader of the small society of Glen Vale, called together a search party to scour the woodlands for the poor child.  They were just setting out with flaming torches when Odelyn appeared dragging Wynnstan by the front of his red tunic.  Stepping into the light of the communal fire, she triumphantly held up the chipped vessel I had sent my cousin out with earlier in the day.  “I’ve found the Chalice!” she exclaimed as she held it aloft for all to see.  “And the Fisher King too!”  Crying in relief, Blythe Mason rushed in to scoop up her daughter and to cover her face with a mother’s kisses.  Coming into the small circle, Eldwyn beamed his pleasure; his pride in his little girl child was evident in his wide grin. 

 

The Chronicler of this tale, I can attest that I learned just as much, if not more, as all the children who participated in the Quest for the Holy Grail.  I suppose, as an observer in this adventure, it is my part to take note of all the actions and emotions of the other members of the group.  The tale I had to tell around the communal fire kept the company enthrall all through that cold autumn and into the winter season.  It earned me the name Daegal the Word Weaver�"a moniker I would keep with me as I traveled from hamlet to village relating the legend of The Children’s Quest again and again for the pleasure of many people across the Isle of Britannia.  Sure the Arthurian Romances became loved through the land but, in all due respect, I always believed the youthful escapades of my friends and companions was just as endearing.  Only time will tell if it will endure as well as the adventures of Galahad, Lancelot, Gawain and their band of Knights of the Round Table. 

 

Epilogue

 

The excitement of our Quest for the Grail was still on everyone’s lips when word arrived of the final adventure of Sir Galahad.  We, children, didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad concerning the event.  Having avidly followed his adventures for so many years, to think of him as no longer treading the face of the earth was daunting.  At the same time, it was exciting to think of how he left this world. 

 

After seeing the Grail for himself, he was asked by Pelles and Eliazar to take the vessel to the Island of Sarras�"said to be a holy isle.  Requesting to choose his own manner of death, he set off to return to the Court of Arthur.  Along the way, Galahad received a visit from Joseph of Arimathea.  Experiencing a rapture rarely faced by others, he proclaimed himself ready to leave the earth.  Suddenly surrounded by angels, he made his ascension to Heaven.  His companions, Percival and Bors, witnessed the event and rushed to relate the incident to Arthur.  Neither Galahad nor the Holy Grail were ever seen upon this earth again.       

 

One night, shortly after the final episode of Galahad’s life was related to us, the children of Glen Vale gathered in a circle at the edge of the woodlands.  Around a small fire built by Courtney and Faline, who were now inseparable, we retold about the stories of King Arthur’s Court and of our own adventures.  Although we were all individuals with our own lives to live, we would forever be a part of a larger group.  We could still fight and spar with each other over our differences but, when one of us was in peril, there was always another on hand to assist in the trouble.  Many times we saved each other in pairs or as a whole time and again. 

 

That circle around the fire became our Round Table.  Henceforward boys and girls were equal in that group we called the Knights of the Flame.  Odelyn and Keeley, Edyth and Petuna, and the tomboy Faline; Osmond, Courtney, Neville, Paxton, Ham, Durwyn and me, Daegal.  Twelve children brought together on a quest as daunting as the one accomplished by Galahad, Lancelot, Gawain, Percival, Lionel, Tristan, Gareth, Bedivere, Bleoberis de Gannes, Brunor le Noir and Palomedes.  We all learned our lessons, Knights and children both, but the greatest lesson of all was the power of friendship.  Love each other, care for those you love, give your assistance to those in need and most of all, Be Kind to Everyone you meet, and you will go far in life.  If you can do all these things, the Grail will live within you because it is your own true heart.          

© 2020 Lea Sheryn


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I would love to read a novel written by you. You are an amazing writer, my friend.

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Lea Sheryn

3 Months Ago

I hope so too. It would be nice to get it out in print. It's called SUMNER'S COVE.
Fairy Khurshid Khan

3 Months Ago

Sounds interesting. Wish you alk the luck.
Lea Sheryn

3 Months Ago

Thank you! I keep hoping!
girl,you need to be a paper back writer,great story

Posted 4 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

 wordman

3 Months Ago

well,we don`t have much of a choice
Lea Sheryn

3 Months Ago

We don't.

Ours is not to wonder why
Ours is just to do or die
 wordman

3 Months Ago

and so as we do as our fore fathers did just live and die i guess

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Added on April 10, 2020
Last Updated on April 10, 2020
Tags: Adventure, children, search, grail

Author

Lea Sheryn
Lea Sheryn

Sarasota, FL



About
I love to write! To have the ability to put words together to express myself is an ability that I cherish. Working for years to strengthen my talent, I am a self taught Word Weaver. Up until now, I.. more..

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