Grandpa’s Magic Flute A short story from The Legend’s of Arth By Randy Massey Copyright 2012 Randy Massey Smashwords edition All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. The Royal Family Capil lived in the far south and west lands of Arth. Life was pleasant, for they had all manner of fruit trees and vegetable gardens. The wild game in the area was plentiful, as well as the river nearby that was teaming with fish. Not far off was the Western Sea. But, life was also cautious, for the evil lord N’atax was once again sending out his hordes of Boar-riders and Evils to scour the lands of Arth for the Royal Families. His purpose was to eliminate them completely, thus ending the belief that a great warrior would come one day and fulfill the Great Prophecy. Thankfully, the Capils lived very far away, and had as of yet not been attacked by the enemy. Into this family was born a little girl. She was the seventh born, and had six older brothers to look after her. At the ceremony where parents select the names for their children, her parents, T-legen and Bea-Kel, selected the name Rea-atee. The priests residing over the ceremony were taken aback, but welcomed the little girl into the world. As soon as Rea-atee (which means “little princess” in the Common Tongue of Arth) could walk and talk, she constantly begged her older brothers to take her to the shores of the Western Sea. She loved to play on the beach, making things with the sand, picking up seashells, and chasing the sea birds. Born with black hair, she was soon nicknamed Raven by her father. Sometimes this was changed to Ravendune, for she could always be found there, playing on the dunes by the sea. Raven was only five years old when her Grandpa gave her a very special gift. It was a small wooden flute that he had hand carved for her. She took it gently from his hand and played a few notes on it. The sound was pure and infectious. Raven stood up and blew on it again, this time dancing and swirling to the sounds that filled the air. So sweet and soothing, pure and simple, that her heart sang with joy. “Hey little princess,” Grandpa teased. “You really do like my gift? “Oh, yes Poppy,” Raven exclaimed as she ran across the room and gave him a big hug. “It is the best gift ever!’ And she spun away to some more of the music that she found so easy to make. “Raven, can you keep a secret?” he asked. She looked quizzically at him with her dark gray eyes. “Sure, Poppy!” she squeaked, brushing her long black hair away from her face. “I want you to know, honey, that I made it myself just for you. And, because you are a princess, it is magical!” His eyes gleamed as he saw the strange expression on her face. Looking down at the flute, Raven turned it over carefully, admiring the beautiful form and shape of the gift in her hand. “Is it really, Poppy?” she questioned. “Oh yes, it is, and you should be extra careful with it!’” Grandpa teasingly warned her. “I will, Poppy, I will! I promise!” Raven shouted over her shoulder as she hurried out the door to show her friend Le-thon her wonderful gift. A deep smile filled his face as he heard the notes from the flute fade away. Raven ran down the road to find her playmate. *** Raven never doubted her grandpa, but as the days went by, she grew a little tired of the flute. Nevertheless, every time she would go out to play, she always had to find it and take it with her. And that proved to be a very good thing one day. She walked along the banks of the Swirling River, skipping and hopping in a slapdash fashion, as young children are wont to do. She played some notes on her flute, not really paying any attention to where she was going. Raven was a little too careless, and she stumbled and slipped on the rocks! She went tumbling down, with hands splayed out in front of her, and would have smacked her head hard on a large boulder. But, wondrously, the air filled with little sparkling lights, and she was stopped, held just an inch away from the rock! Then, as the little lights disappeared, she was set down gently. No bumps, no bruises, and no scrapes! Raven sat up and dusted herself off. What had just happened? She had no idea, but she knew who to ask: Poppy! She jumped up and off she ran to find him. Of course, when she told him, he just smiled. What a story teller she is, he thought. But he was very thankful she was ok. “I’m so glad you aren’t hurt, little princess,” he said as he held her gently on his lap. “But Poppy! I was playing my magic flute, and it saved me from hurting myself!” Raven exclaimed. “Of course it did, my dear. Now, you go back outside and play. And be more careful!” he called to her as she bolted through the door. On another occasion, Raven was playing hide and seek with her brothers, her friend Le-thon, and several other kids in the village. It was in the early evening, just before the time of dinner. She had run off to hide in a special place she knew of, but she wondered how she could keep the others from finding her. It was still light out enough to see her tracks in the soft dirt that she was running across. Without really thinking about it, Raven pulled out her flute and played it. As she did, she noticed that the air behind her twinkled, and her footprints disappeared! And, because of that, no one could find her. Raven was the winner of the game! Soon, the playing of the flute, and the little sparking lights, became a very common thing for Raven. She found that when she played a series of low notes they would appear almost instantly. But, she did keep her word, and never told anyone else about them. Many times, it seemed, they saved her from harm or injury. After awhile, Raven even stopped running and telling her grandpa about her friends, “the sparkles” as she called them. He would just lovingly pat her on the head, and say something like “That’s nice, my dear”. So, as she grew older, it was just her little secret. She didn’t tell any of her six older brothers, or even her good friend Le-thon, about them. Sadly, Raven’s grandpa died when she was ten. She cried herself to sleep that night, for her Poppy had been a very large part of her daily routine. It was a gloomy time for her, and she knew she would miss him so much. Raven stayed and played even longer down by the Western Sea, or along the Swirling River. For awhile, she left her flute at home. It seemed to remind her of him, and that made her sad. But, it soon seemed to call to her, and once again she took the flute with her where ever she went. And that turned out to be a most important event in her life! For one day, when she was about eleven, Raven walked a little farther south along the river than she should have. She was lost in a daydream about her Poppy, and played sweet music on the flute. Soon, she had wandered into a deeply wooded area. Her first sense of danger came from the sound of a low growl off to her right! Raven froze in her tracks and held her breath. The animal stepped out from behind some bushes and saw her immediately. It was a large forest bear, and he was hungry! With a load roar, he charged right at her. She was so scared that she didn’t even have time to scream. The bear attacked relentlessly, but he wasn’t able to harm Raven! The little twinkling lights surrounded her, making a shield that he could not get through! Again and again he tried to bite her or claw her. Then he started to bat at her with powerful smacks of his paws, wanting to knock her down. But, she stood there, engulfed by her friends, “the sparkles”, and after what seemed like hours, the bear finally gave up his assault. He waddled away, bellowing to himself in his frustration. Raven was so shocked that she didn’t move for several minutes. The bear was gone, the lights had vanished, and still she stood there, not knowing what to think. At last, Raven looked down at the flute in her hand. And she remembered the low notes she had been absent mindedly playing. She held the instrument to her heart, and sighed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “Thank you Poppy! For this truly is a magic flute!” Raven cried out to the trees around her. The only answer she heard was the unique sound of some redwing black birds over by the shores of the Swirling River. She turned and hurried home, thankful she was safe and unharmed. Overhead, unnoticed, flew a small flock of strange birds. They were mostly white and blue, with streaks of silver, and very hard to see against the partly cloudy sky above. They were about the size of a sparrow, but looked more like an owl. Even though she didn’t know about them, they had always followed Raven where ever she gone. Even after the terrifying attack of the bear, Raven kept the flute a secret, as she had promised her grandpa. Little did she know that the flute, and even more so, her little friends (the sparkles), would play a much more important role in the years to come. Not just in her life, but in the lives of all the peoples of Arth!