My Favourite Character
A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me if I had a favourite character from the series, The Chronicles of Midway. Out of the dozens of characters that crop up in the four novels, Glynwidden, the Protector of the Lodge has to be my number one. He first appears in chapter 15 of The Storyteller's Book then many more times throughout the series. This prompted me to introduce him and some of my other favourites on my website www.kevinflemingbooks.com with extracts from the series. Here is Glynwidden’s first appearance in The Storyteller's Book when Mel goes to Ten Acre Lodge in search of the stolen book:
Mel stood outside the gate of Ten Acre Lodge and smiled to herself as she wondered if either of the teachers had any idea where she’d gone. Hopefully they wouldn’t check if she’d returned to Midway and even if they did, they couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do, but her intention was to keep track of the book, and her hunch was that it would make its way back here to Ten Acre Lodge to the unknown woman, so that had to be a good place to start.
First of all she wanted to check if she was still invisible, so she looked around and saw some birds pecking in the grass. She ran quickly towards them to chase them away, but the birds were completely unaware of her presence. She smiled in the knowledge that she was still invisible, but now what would she do? If she walked through the gate, she might trigger off one of those traps that had caught Nick in Mrs Brimlington’s house and make herself visible to whoever lived there. She decided to walk around the property looking for something, anything, to give her inspiration.
Around the outside of the high sandstone wall, she had to fight her way through the overgrown weeds and bushes that stood in her path. She found, to her peril, the ground was uneven and on a number of occasions almost fell. The whole property and land within the walls was larger than she expected, and despite the age of the walls, there seemed to be no weak points for her to slip through. However, as she got around the back, she thought she saw some movement in the undergrowth. An animal perhaps, but the disturbance seemed to be too great.
Suddenly a man’s head popped up above the thick weeds causing Mel to jump back in alarm. “What you up to, girl?” the gruff voice of the strange, bearded man growled.
“Nothing,” Mel said, defensively. It seemed he could see her despite being cloaked.
“Don’t look like nothin’ to me; looks like prowlin’. Nothin’ an’ no-one stays ‘idden from me.”
“I am not prowling,” Mel said, defiantly.
“What you doin’ then if you ain’t prowlin’?”
“I’m having a private stroll in the countryside,” Mel answered. “Besides, you look a lot more suspicious hiding in the grass.”
“Don’t be givin’ me no cheek, girl,” the strange man growled angrily at her, raising a clenched fist threateningly.
“So why are you lying down in the grass?” Mel argued, standing up to the man’s verbal aggression.
“I’m not lyin’ down, you young varmint, I’m standin’ on me own two feet.”
The man clearly was on his own two feet as he ran a few paces through the long grass towards her, but he was barely three feet tall. Mel stepped back and the small, stocky man stopped.
“Oops, sorry,” she said, staring at him in amazement. The mop of dark grey hair on his large head looked coarse and hung wildly down to his wide shoulders. His face looked red and angry with thick eyebrows and beard that matched his hair, while above his bulging nose, dark eyes stared at her. He wore a scruffy grey shirt and dark brown leather trousers with a thick belt tied around his middle as he stood aggressively in his knobbly bare feet. His muscular arms, big hands and head looked out of proportion with the rest of his body.
“What’s it you’re after ‘round ‘ere? I don’t like strangers pokin’ their noses where they’re not welcome.”
“I’m not a stranger; I live around here,” Mel said, indignantly.
The man looked around the small space where they both stood. “Not ‘round ‘ere you don’t, only me and some little critters live ‘round ‘ere.” The man spread his solid, beefy arms wide, indicating the immediate surroundings.
“I don’t mean here, here.” Mel spread her arms in the same way. “I mean …” She waved her arms high and wide and pointed back towards the village centre. “This whole area around here.”
“That’s not ‘round ‘ere, that’s way over yonder. I’ve not bin way over yonder before.”
“Are you not from around here?” Mel was becoming confused.
“I just said, I’ve lived ‘round ‘ere all me life I ‘ave.”
“So have I.”
The man gave a short cynical laugh. “All your life? All your life?” He repeated with increased cynical laughter. “Four thousand years,” he said, importantly. “That’s what I call, all me life.”
“Four thousand years?” Mel’s voice rose in pitch.
“An’ more,” added the man, proudly, seeing he’d impressed Mel. “Aye, more than four thousand years; four thousand two ‘undred and two to be precise.”
“In all that time you must have been down Partington Road. I know I’ve never seen you there but I’m only fourteen.”
“I’ve just said if you’d care to listen, I’ve bin ‘ere all me life.”
Mel looked at the man with disbelief. “You mean, literally, you’ve been here for over four thousand years?”
“Correct.” The man proudly folded his arms and held his head high. “Never once ‘ave I shirked me duties, never. Done as I were told; guarded the grounds from intruders, kept trespassers like you out.”
“What about your days off?”
“Can’t ‘ave a day off in my job, gotta be on me guard all the time.” The man raised his bushy eyebrows as he looked at Mel.
“What’s your name?” Mel asked.
“You tell me yours first,” the man answered.
“Oh I’m not getting involved in stupid, childish games,” Mel said.
“Good, so tell me your name then.”
“Ok, my name is Mel,” she said. “It’s short for Melandra.”
The man’s jaw dropped open, his eyes narrowed and he stared at her closely.
Mel spread her arms. “What?”
“Melandra?” The little man bowed his head. “Melandra from Midway? ‘Ere at last to fulfil your destiny an’ step into a mighty position.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “What?”
“I’m Glynwidden, Protector o’ the Lodge. Forgive me insolence, Me Lady, ‘ow can I be o’ service?”
*
My website: www.kevinflemingbooks.com has this and other character introductions with more to follow over the holiday period.
Mel stood outside the gate of Ten Acre Lodge and smiled to herself as she wondered if either of the teachers had any idea where she’d gone. Hopefully they wouldn’t check if she’d returned to Midway and even if they did, they couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do, but her intention was to keep track of the book, and her hunch was that it would make its way back here to Ten Acre Lodge to the unknown woman, so that had to be a good place to start.
First of all she wanted to check if she was still invisible, so she looked around and saw some birds pecking in the grass. She ran quickly towards them to chase them away, but the birds were completely unaware of her presence. She smiled in the knowledge that she was still invisible, but now what would she do? If she walked through the gate, she might trigger off one of those traps that had caught Nick in Mrs Brimlington’s house and make herself visible to whoever lived there. She decided to walk around the property looking for something, anything, to give her inspiration.
Around the outside of the high sandstone wall, she had to fight her way through the overgrown weeds and bushes that stood in her path. She found, to her peril, the ground was uneven and on a number of occasions almost fell. The whole property and land within the walls was larger than she expected, and despite the age of the walls, there seemed to be no weak points for her to slip through. However, as she got around the back, she thought she saw some movement in the undergrowth. An animal perhaps, but the disturbance seemed to be too great.
Suddenly a man’s head popped up above the thick weeds causing Mel to jump back in alarm. “What you up to, girl?” the gruff voice of the strange, bearded man growled.
“Nothing,” Mel said, defensively. It seemed he could see her despite being cloaked.
“Don’t look like nothin’ to me; looks like prowlin’. Nothin’ an’ no-one stays ‘idden from me.”
“I am not prowling,” Mel said, defiantly.
“What you doin’ then if you ain’t prowlin’?”
“I’m having a private stroll in the countryside,” Mel answered. “Besides, you look a lot more suspicious hiding in the grass.”
“Don’t be givin’ me no cheek, girl,” the strange man growled angrily at her, raising a clenched fist threateningly.
“So why are you lying down in the grass?” Mel argued, standing up to the man’s verbal aggression.
“I’m not lyin’ down, you young varmint, I’m standin’ on me own two feet.”
The man clearly was on his own two feet as he ran a few paces through the long grass towards her, but he was barely three feet tall. Mel stepped back and the small, stocky man stopped.
“Oops, sorry,” she said, staring at him in amazement. The mop of dark grey hair on his large head looked coarse and hung wildly down to his wide shoulders. His face looked red and angry with thick eyebrows and beard that matched his hair, while above his bulging nose, dark eyes stared at her. He wore a scruffy grey shirt and dark brown leather trousers with a thick belt tied around his middle as he stood aggressively in his knobbly bare feet. His muscular arms, big hands and head looked out of proportion with the rest of his body.
“What’s it you’re after ‘round ‘ere? I don’t like strangers pokin’ their noses where they’re not welcome.”
“I’m not a stranger; I live around here,” Mel said, indignantly.
The man looked around the small space where they both stood. “Not ‘round ‘ere you don’t, only me and some little critters live ‘round ‘ere.” The man spread his solid, beefy arms wide, indicating the immediate surroundings.
“I don’t mean here, here.” Mel spread her arms in the same way. “I mean …” She waved her arms high and wide and pointed back towards the village centre. “This whole area around here.”
“That’s not ‘round ‘ere, that’s way over yonder. I’ve not bin way over yonder before.”
“Are you not from around here?” Mel was becoming confused.
“I just said, I’ve lived ‘round ‘ere all me life I ‘ave.”
“So have I.”
The man gave a short cynical laugh. “All your life? All your life?” He repeated with increased cynical laughter. “Four thousand years,” he said, importantly. “That’s what I call, all me life.”
“Four thousand years?” Mel’s voice rose in pitch.
“An’ more,” added the man, proudly, seeing he’d impressed Mel. “Aye, more than four thousand years; four thousand two ‘undred and two to be precise.”
“In all that time you must have been down Partington Road. I know I’ve never seen you there but I’m only fourteen.”
“I’ve just said if you’d care to listen, I’ve bin ‘ere all me life.”
Mel looked at the man with disbelief. “You mean, literally, you’ve been here for over four thousand years?”
“Correct.” The man proudly folded his arms and held his head high. “Never once ‘ave I shirked me duties, never. Done as I were told; guarded the grounds from intruders, kept trespassers like you out.”
“What about your days off?”
“Can’t ‘ave a day off in my job, gotta be on me guard all the time.” The man raised his bushy eyebrows as he looked at Mel.
“What’s your name?” Mel asked.
“You tell me yours first,” the man answered.
“Oh I’m not getting involved in stupid, childish games,” Mel said.
“Good, so tell me your name then.”
“Ok, my name is Mel,” she said. “It’s short for Melandra.”
The man’s jaw dropped open, his eyes narrowed and he stared at her closely.
Mel spread her arms. “What?”
“Melandra?” The little man bowed his head. “Melandra from Midway? ‘Ere at last to fulfil your destiny an’ step into a mighty position.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “What?”
“I’m Glynwidden, Protector o’ the Lodge. Forgive me insolence, Me Lady, ‘ow can I be o’ service?”
*
My website: www.kevinflemingbooks.com has this and other character introductions with more to follow over the holiday period.
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