Artorius of Avalon

Some say Artorius of Avalon was a myth. Some say he lived…there is little evidence in this man’s physical world to prove either way...unless thee lived during those times and know the physical world of yore is not the physical world we live in today.

I have a story to share with thee…’tis a myth or a tale of truth…I’ll let thou decide.

I remember well the day the druid came to me…his flamboyant and colorful clothes brighten the dark gray sky that rumbled overhead and as lightning flashed he moved silently towards me.

His aura spoke of his past; a studied druid to be sure. Knowing they harmed none, I was aware but uncaring of his business there in the woods as I continued to pick young herbs for drying.

For some time he studied me and I moved on distracted by the blessing of Brigantia when I spotted a rare mandragora root. I took little noticed of the druid as I dug the human shaped root from the hard ground…I snapped one of the tips between my teeth and was rewarded with the bitter taste on my tongue…the root was good!

It was then I noticed the druid had stopped just short of me; a silent request for my attention. I bowed my head in deference as he reached out hooking his hand under my arm.

“Nay, ‘tis I a mere Merlin who shall bow to thee,” he said as he drew me to stand before him. “I have been sent by the Twlwwyth Tegs to find thee. I have a friend. He is wounded and needs thee to heal him. Will thou come to Apple-isle with me?”

“Apple-isle is the land of Avalon; the land of the Tegs,” I said. “This is no place where humans are welcome.”

“Ah,” he said with a twinkle in his grey eyes. “But thou are a gullveig; a witch. Thou once lived in the land of Avalon. Thou has been gifted by Kalan; a Teg who loved thee once. He tells me thou can cure my friend.”

Kalan was indeed a lover of mine; long ago. It was nice to hear he still thought of me, for I still love him so. “Who is thy friend in need?” I asked, and his answer was Arth Vawr.

Aghast I said, “Arth Vawr?”

“Aye, King Author it is.” He nodded and pulled me through the forest towards the riverbed. I willingly followed. Author was a rare human indeed. The druid continued, “Author is gravely wounded and needs thy herbs to cure a mere man. Kalan cannot help with Teg herbs.”

‘Tis a day I will nay forget…the day King Author lived to become Artorius of Avalon and awaits his return to the human world.

I tell this tale because Author is a symbol of the kind of man this modern world need if it is to survive the coming changes…it will take many brave heart to help the world grow through these dark ages anon upon us. And it is up to the women to raise such men then have the strength to let them go and do what they were raised to do.

To those who say it is too late…remember, there is only one real time… druid time. This is where our true reality is spent…druid time is the time kept by our souls.

THERE IS STILL TIME to save mankind from his ignorance.
DO NOT GIVE UP HOPE.
Instead…BELIEVE…
Then make the magick happen one moment at a time.

Merry Meet, Merry Part, and Merry Meet Again.

Druantia