The True Story Of Pyewacket


   The mystical, often mysterious world of wizardry and of magical realms is no stranger to me. Pyewacket, for it has been my reality since the day I was born.  My mother, CEARA, is of faerie-folk, or at least she is half, and is kin to those beings known as forest-sprites of the Old Forest, and being so is one of the few who can contral Old Man Willow.  CEARA has always been a loyal friend to the water-sprites, so it is not surprising that she has a deep friendship with GOLDBERRY and TOM BOMABADIL.  My mother's age is not known, even she isn't sure herself as to how old she is.  She has always made her home in the Old Forest, which is ever so elusive to find, for it is only through her will if she choses for her home to be seen.  This must have been the case, when by chance, one day, a long, long time ago, an extremely handsome, bearded man with long, flowing pale blond hair, mistakenly wandered into the Old Forest. 

  Back then, he was just a newly initiated wizard, supposedly taught his skills by none other than GANDALF himself.  Well.....that is if you can believe it.  This wizard was often full of tall tales and stories he'd tell by the light of the fireplace late at night, and one could never be sure if any of his stories were true.  This wizard, of whom I speak of, is of course, none other than my own father, GARLON.

   Now it is not sure if my father fell in love with my mother of his own accord---my mother remains beautiful to this day, despite her age---she is without a touch of frost in her long to the waist, thick, wavy golden red hair; nor, is there a wrinkle etched on her smooth, creamy-white complexion that has a hint of rose naturally blushing her cheeks.   Alas, being a magical creature such as she is, no doubt, she did cast a spell on my father to fall in love with her.

   Throughout the years, I was told of the story of how, shortly after my birth, there appeared a sleek, black cat, who seemingly took it upon himself to stand near my crib, as if he had come for the sould purpose of protecting and guarding me. Around his neck was a beautiful jewelled collar with a silver tag with the name etched on it in ancient rune symbols.  My father, skilled in the language of the runes translated it----the name of the cat was PYEWACKETTE.  Now both my mother and father couldn't fail to notice, that while they were of light hair color, I was born, and have forever had raven black hair---thus, they named me PYEWACKET.  To this day, my cat, PYEWACKETTE remains my faithful companion---and, oh yes, he is quite old now, but death seems to elude him, and I believe he shall live and remain my guardian for as long as I live.  Not only is he long-lived, but he seems to have bestowed some kind of magic onto me.  For you see, I have the skill of shape-shifting----I, myself can appear as a black cat.    The only way you can tell us apart, is that my cat has beautiful, deep jade green eyes, while my eyes can either appear as deep, turquoise blue, or as a honey-amber shade.

   Being of such magical parents, it is not surprising that I acquired my wizardry skills at a very early age.   Ah!   We're not talking about the usual hocus-pocus kind of magic.  My skills are more in the knowledge of herblore and natural, healing medicines, many of which over time I learned not only from my parents, but through the Elves of Rivendell----a skill of which, I am still in the process of learning.  Also, having a deep, abiding love and affinity for the natural world around me here in Middle Earth, I'm quite skilled in being able to communicate to the animals and trees, and I can understand them when they spealk to me.  Indeed, I find it easier to talk in the language of birds than that of Sindarin or Quenya--but hopes remains, that one day I shall master these languages.

   And while I was born to a woman of faerie-folk kin and of a wizard, and am now a member of the Istari, my knowledge of this wonderful world is still new to me.   There is so much for me to still learn.  Does one ever learn all there is to know?  I see it as a lifetime accomplishment----ah!!  That's all right, for in being a wizard, I have a long, long life ahead of me.

   I own a hooded cloak, that my mother made for me to commemorate the day I would officially become initiated as an Istari wizard-----oh my!!  It is so beautiful.   It is of the most beautiful, rich shade of turquoise blue to match the shade of my eyes.  Along the border of the hem, are rune symbols, some of which spell out my name, while others spell out an old faerie-folk prayer  (or spell, if you so wish to call it), for my protection.  Around the borders of the sleeves, are small, flat-cut gemstones of turquoise, jade, tiger's eye, lapis lazuli, amber, rose quartz and onyx sewn it.  
   The cloak really, truly must be "magical"-----for while it is made of soft velvet, it feels light and airy and cool on even the most hottest of days, and, yet, even in the deepest coldest chill of winter keeps me warm and snug.

 

   Now, it was my father, GARLON, who gave me a staff----a wizard's staff similar to his own, of which he carved for me and was my present to me.  It reaches just a little over my height of 5'1", and is made of smooth, polished rowan wood on which atop of it, there is a large crystal.  He told me that this crystal would provide me with light when there is no light.