Scribblings
Station 3
This is going to look a little odd, but stay with me a moment 
I had a random idea for an illustration to submit to the Wanderers theme over at john-howe.com – Now the idea was fairly simple in my little head, but needed a little bit of an explanation. I tried a couple of times to write a simple piece to go with it and ended up more frustrated than satisfied with the outcome, and so I decided to write a short story to accompany the illustration. I decided to post the short story after the first draft, mainly because it was more of a release from writers block and frustration than an attempt to write anything polished and finished. So if there are any errors, I’m sorry
The Forgotten Gate
A sketch that really got out of hand, the Forgotten Gate
You wander down an old cobbled road, passing on the way a row of grand looking houses with well tended gardens stretching out in front of them. Slowly the grand houses give way to smaller houses that are in need of some T.L.C., their small gardens are overgrown with long grass and weed and the cobbled road is in need of repair. The smaller houses end as does the cobbled road and in front of you there is a dirt track with lined with gnarled oak trees draped with ivy, it’s a dry day and the wind keeps blowing tendrils of dust from the ground into your eyes. You’re about to give up, run back to civilization then you notice the trees stop abruptly as the dirt track winds its way up a small hill. As you approach the top of the hill you notice a wooden fence running across the hilltop and a broken gate dangling from a single hinge. Then the memories come flooding back, you’d been this way before, what feels like almost a lifetime ago. This is the road that leads to a World of adventure and exploration, a World of mystery where every step reveals new opportunities and possibilities. You try to think back to the last time you came this way, but the mists of time have blurred your memories, but you feel a pang of regret for all the times you could have opened that old gate and stepped into that other World. With a sigh you turn from the gate meaning to make your way back along the lane, then you pause and step up to the gateway, well, one more adventure can’t hurt
A page from the book
A little bit more on the airship theme, after this one it’s a more serious bit of watercolour work on the agenda So, following on from this piece I wondered how the airship would work if it were included into a children’s book, the only way to find out was to rough up a page from the book 
You have to wonder
What happens inside your head at times, for March the theme of the month that I’m working on is Airships. For some reason my mind turned this into Hairships, which are of course ships which carry hair to wig makers :-/ well what else would they do with it.
Any sailor worth is salt will tell you, if you want to make some easy money go to the Willwurd Isles, the daily routine was to sail round the various ports basking all the while under the Caribbean Sun collecting bags of hair from various suppliers. Once the ship was full of hair you’d take them round to Howlee Wigs where you’d be paid large amounts of cash just for bringing in the hairship.
What if…
I was trying to think of a painting for the theme of the month which is Airships over on the John Howe website. And I was thinking (if you can call it that), what if Tolkien before he wrote the Council of Elrond scene had watched a few hot air balloons fly by, perhaps he’d have sent the ring South by balloon instead of with the fellowship on foot.
Elrond looked annoyed and the other members of the council shuffled in their seats.
“Look,” said Frodo, “I’m not saying I won’t go to Mordor, it’s just walking all that way…”
“No one is saying you have to cover the distance in one day.” Interrupted Elrond, “Think of it more of an extended wander.”
“I already have bunions on both feet, and an ingrown toenail.” Complained Frodo, “please don’t forget the condition of my feet.”
“And my back,” put in Gimli.
“And my legs,” chirped Legolas.
“Okay, I get it.” Elrond said slamming the table in frustration. “So you’re all too lazy to walk to Mordor.”
“How many horses do we have?” Asked Gandalf.
“Not enough I’ll warrant,” Aragorn replied. “Rivendell lost far too many for the great feast.”
“Eagles?” Suggested Bilbo.
No one answered, though Elrond threw a half eaten roll at Bilbo.
Time passed and no one spoke, clouds drifted in front of the Sun and the council chamber fell dark. From the back of the council chamber a Elf from the distant realm of Golfier stood and cleared his throat. “Could I make a suggestion?”
“At this point I’ll listen to Bill the Pony,” said Elrond.
“My Lord, I am Étienne from the realm of Golfier,” he said bowing towards the other members of the council. “We have for many years now been designing vessels that fly in the air and are moved by nothing more than the winds.”
Elrond, and most of the other council members looked doubtful.
“This is true my Lords,” said another Elf standing next to Étienne. “I am Findaráto brother of Étienne, these vessels of the air are a wonder to behold.”
“Hang on,” Gandalf said standing up. “I’ve seen those airships, they’re nothing more than little baskets suspended beneath bags of air.”
“We’ve refined the design a bit,” Étienne said smiling. “Now we suspend small rowing boats beneath the balloons.”
“How far can one of these airships go?” Elrond asked curiously.
“We’ve never flown more than 40 miles in one go,” replied Findaráto. “That’s not to say they won’t fly further, just that we’ve never seen the need to travel further than that.”
“There’s no way you’ll get me up in one of those things.” Gandalf said shaking his head.
“Hmmmm, let’s not be hasty,” said Elrond holding up a hand to silence Gandalf.
“Are you halfentish?” Legolas asked Elrond with a smirk.
The council chamber erupted with laughter and Bilbo called for ale which he’d done every fifteen minutes since they started.
“If you’re all quite finished,” Elrond said, he was looking mightily cheesed off and everyone fell silent. “That’s better. I like this idea of flying silently into Mordor, it’s the one thing that Sauron won’t consider.”
“Is that because it’s a stupid idea?” Asked Gandalf.
“Well, we can’t walk, ride or Eagle it there,” Elrond replied sharply. “We have little choice left to us. How long will it take to build these airships for the trip to Mordor?”
“Three weeks should be enough,” said Findaráto.
“You can count me out of this scheme.” Gandalf said to no one in particular.
For three weeks the Golfier brothers worked on their airships until three were ready to fly, the fellowship sans Gandalf assembled and climbed aboard their ships. Gandalf shook his head and wandered down into the valley of Rivendell, he couldn’t watch them crash into the ground and die. As he stepped onto the bridge Gandalf looked up and saw the three airships floating off into the distance, slamming his staff down onto the bridge he called out to the fellowship “Fly you fools!”
Of course the text and Gandalf of the bridge is the result of Julie saying to my suggestion of the fellowship in airships was “yes, and Gandalf could be shouting ‘fly you fools’ at them”
