The Fairy Diary Day 601 #TFDbyRWOz2

Meribabell writes:

Since we completed our tasks, we have little to do until Merlin’s return. Dunfallon had his ’army’ back in their boxes and on the wagons. The wound on Conjil’s foreleg looked better but had yet to close. Noralei kept a poultice on it. There was a concern that she will not be ready come time to pull the wagons. 

Rumble and Navril recovered a good deal of our arrows and restocked our quivers. I helped a bit at the end. 

We did not see Gibley much around the camp. I believe he was off by himself to deal with his indigestion in private. 

I wanted to be alone too, so I wandered down to the edge of the abyss and sat there staring into its depth – hoping to catch sight of the wizard returning to us. Merlin caught sight of me first instead. He sat down beside me and handed me a scroll.  I recognized it as belonging to the High Fairy. Merlin told me he had found it in the area beneath the village of the Sprites. And besides a few broken mining tools that is all he found. 

He accompanied me back to our camp and there announced to us that he must find out what has happened to his excellency. We all wanted to go with him, but he would only accept Navril’s offer – as there was a possibility that the High Fairy was somewhere in the territory of the elves. 

As for the rest of us, he asked us to travel to Dromadil and inform the Sprites in exile there that it was now safe to return to their homes. 

Then after acceding to Noralei’s request to look at Conjil’s foreleg and treating and closing the wound, the wizard and the elf departed. 

The Fairy Diary Day 600 #TFDbyRWOz2

Meribabell writes:

My exhaustion was such that this day was one of recovery for me. Thus, I missed a lot and Rumble stopped by when I regained consciousness and filled me in on all their doings. 

Merlin went down into the abyss on his own. He forbade anyone from accompanying him. He still had not returned by day’s end. A fact that makes most everyone uncomfortable. (I am confident that the wizard can meet any problem). 

Dunfallon saw to the care of his “army.” All the others joined in to help him clean the blue gore off of the weapons. And in some cases new edges were honed with Noralei’s expertise. We fairies will have to band together to lend a fresh enchantment to the fairy gold in their make up. (How I wish the High Fairy were here, for he could do it much quicker and better). 

Midway through their labors, it was discovered that Conjil had been wounded in the conflict. Noralei and Gibley put everything else aside to minister to her. Something had penetrated the skin on her foreleg. The edges of the small wound were ringed with a thick frost which they were able to remove and apply an healing ointment. 

I took up my scroll and jotted out a fresh message to the High Fairy. I recounted the history of our recent victory, renewed our questions to him. And wove in a detail that only the true High Fairy could answer. 

Day One Thousand Eighty Six #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

The unit commander condescended to speak to us today. He was in a good mood, being pleased with the efficiency of his men in executing his orders.

His mood changed, however. when Elijah brought up our request to be taken to the Supreme Commander.

He was incredulous about our claims to have met him. Mei at the last prevailed upon him to send a message from us along with his other reports.

The monotony that settled upon our group afterwards was dispelled as we turned our focus to the things of the Spirit.

The quiet of the camp was disturbed later in the evening when an uproar erupted at the news that the adversary Stan was recovered from his wound.

Day Four Hundred Four #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

So far, so good.

One day into the wilderness and with the exception of a boggy area, we have made good progress.

Wild beasts appear to go out of their way to avoid us. Leastways I think they are there because I hear rustling in the undergrowth.

At one point we overtook two other travelers. They were not as fortunate. One had been wounded, fighting off a big cat. Elijah applied a balm and bound up his wound. They wanted to pay Elijah for his ministration, but he refused.

We kept company until a fork in our path. They headed east towards the coastal port. We kept on towards the interior.

Had the Purser and his family passed this way?

Thunderball, Mr French

Thunderball, Mr French

We had a color TV in our little two room apartment. It sat on its own little cart with casters and we could wheel it from the sitting room through the double sliding door opening into our bedroom – a room that was normally empty save for a dresser and a couple of chairs, which chairs would be moved aside to make way for the murphy bed that folded down from the back wall.

One Sunday, after working the matinee (I was now assistant manager at Mann’s Fifth Avenue, and no longer at the UA Cinemas), my wife and I were looking forward to our evening meal and catching the broadcast of Sean Connery as James Bond in Thunderball. The meal out of the way, we settled in to watch the show from bed.

We did not get to see the whole show.  Sometime in the first half hour I was jolted by a stabbing pain in my backside. I vaulted upright and something was stuck in me, something from within the mattress. The something was a bedspring that had broken loose from its weld, its sharp edge having sliced into me and caught there like a fish hook.

[Aside – in Thunderball, Sean “James Bond” Connery upon despatching one of the evil minions with a speargun quips, “I think he got the point.”]

Though the actual wound was small, little more than an half inch long it was about a similar amount deep, so a trip to the emergency room was in order. Though when we got to Virginia Mason, no stitches were deemed necessary. A single butterfly bandage was applied.

The Sheridan apartments paid for it all of course (or their insurance did). And the manager was very solicitous. So much so that he made it a point to introduce us to his “star” tenants – Mr Sebastian Cabot and his wife.

I recognized the rotund actor as the British butler Mr French from the TV sitcom Family Affair. He was caught off guard and self conscious. Though his voice was very recognizable, his speech was halting and a bit slurred. Both my wife and I could sense he was a little embarrassed, so we did not not invite ourselves to dinner or any other such imposition. We rather excused ourselves at the earliest convenience, and thanking them for the acquaintance. And I didn’t tell him that another bloke from the UK had a hand in our meeting.

[Aside – I did some research on Mr Cabot and discovered that he suffered a stroke in July of 1974. This left his right side paralysed and impaired his speech. Before this he had just completed voice work for Disney – on Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too. He and his family had some property outside of Vancouver BC, which he briefly alluded to in our conversation, and kept this apartment as a residence stateside].