And again

“This is all your fault!” Sir Bors yelled, looking up at Cloudbank Cabin and shaking his fist. “You people up there in the cabin! Every time someone writes this story, we are all forced to re-enact it.”

Malory Tennyson had been the custodian of Cloudbank Cabin, which nestled on the shore of the Fog Lake, at the foot of the Many Mooded Mountain, for hundreds of years. He had seen a steady stream of authors, artists, and creatives coming to the cabin for their retreats.

When the Light and the atmospheric conditions played with the mystical landscape, illusions were conjured and the scene was set for storytelling. And when the fog settled in the valleys it created the Fog Lake and a surreal sense of mystery.

Cloudbank Cabin was an ideal observatory point for viewing the changing scenes in the Cloudbank. Artists and photographers regarded the location as a prime source of pareidolia inspiration.

The particular stream which at times flowed into the Fog Lake below Cloudbank Cabin was called Arthuriana. The images which could be seen in the Cloudbank and which rose from the Fog Lake usually related to the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

Malory Tennyson had hosted many retreats at the cabin. Usually those who came  would leave a copy of their work in lieu of payment.

Sometimes they came in groups. When the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood visited they left wonderful paintings and William Morris even wallpapered some of the rooms in the cabin.🐾 Malory Tennyson mused along with the Inklings and was amused by the Monty Python team.

But Malory Tennyson had never been able to have any connection with, or influence on, the artisans in the cabin. He wished he could actually speak to them.

He would jump up and down in frustration in his own dimension.

“NO, NO, NO!” he would yell. “Lancelot has coal black curls and dark eyes. See the poems The Lady of Shalott and Lancelot and Elaine written under my penname of Alfred Lord Tennyson.🐾 Why have you given him a mane of blond hair?”

“And surely YOU, Terence Hanbury White, know that ‘goodliest’ does NOT translate as UGLY!”🐾 

But this time was different!

The current Artisan in Residence in Cloudbank Cabin was a short, rotund, grey haired lady, called Little Plump Jo. She came to the cabin to work on an Arthurian photo essay The Realm Beyond the Cloud Bank for her university studies. And then she stayed on for the month of November, intending to write the great Arthurian epic novel in that one month.

However she procrastinated and dithered and finally reduced her goal to writing only one story - the tragic tale of Lancelot and Elaine.

Part of the problem was that Jo was dogged by her inner editors, five invisible constant canine companions. Each of the Dabrowski Dogs personified one of Kasimir Dabrowski’s overexcitabilities.🐾

There was the German Shepherd cross, Psycho Motor Dabrowski, who was forever bouncing, barking and chasing his tail. Many people suggested that Psycho Motor had ADHD and should be given sedation. But Jo was sure that Psycho Motor was just very active, both mentally and physically.

The mongrel Sensual Dabrowski (A.K.A. Itchy) always seemed to be fretting about the level of background noise, or the flickering of lights, or tastes and textures of foods and the feel of surfaces and fabrics. This meant Sensual was able to make suggestions to enrich Jo’s appreciation and hopefully enliven her writing!

Intellectual Dabrowski, the Border Collie, loved learning and academia. He enjoyed researching topics, verifying facts and citing sources correctly. He could be quite pedantic and loved to debate. Intellectual often became so caught up with proving a point that he would disrupt the flow of Jo’s writing. He tended to overwhelm Jo with information about tangential topics and insisted on putting pawprints on her manuscripts to indicate places which needed citation.

Emotional Dabrowski, the English Springer Spaniel, was often referred to as the Drama Queen. She contributed to Jo’s work by alerting Jo to the emotions inherent in the scene she was writing. Emotional was not good at describing the way she felt. She just did the feeling; and expressed it by tilting back her lovely head and howling “Ow, ow, ow, ooooooooooo!” She let others name her emotions which could change in an instant.

“At least Emotional helps me understand Elaine’s little dolorous cries, shrieking, moaning and swooning!” claimed Intellectual Dabrowski. “I actually had to research Elaine’s emotional outbursts, and I found a treatise by Sue Ellen Holbrook Emotional Expression in Malory's Elaine of Ascolat”🐾

Imaginational Dabrowski, the cute, little, lamb-like, Bedlington Terrier, was the one most able to assist Jo. When Imaginational was in sync with the ‘vibe’ of the place, he could perceive the stories being revealed in the Cloudbank and the Fog Lake. Imaginational was the utopian thinker of the group. He could always see past present conditions to envisage an ideal world.

Malory Tennyson realised that the dogs could hear him speaking in his own fictional dimension (because dogs hear a different range of sounds).

Then he realised that he was able to communicate with Jo via the dogs. He began sitting in on editorial sessions when Jo read her chapters aloud to the dogs. He could suggest reference sources and Intellectual was happy to search for them.

However all Intellectual’s fact gathering did not necessarily guarantee the results Malory Tennyson required. Intellectual wanted Jo to compile fact cards for the main characters.

He pointed out that there were at least four Arthurian characters named Elaine. He brought Ann F Howey’s Afterlives of the Lady of Shalott and Elaine of Astolat🐾 and a huge stack of modern retellings to Jo. He explained how some authors had chosen one of the Elaines and others had conflated two or more of them.

“There you go!” he barked. “I have rounded up as many stories as I can find, so you can see how various authors have dealt with the proliferation of Elaines.”

Jo must choose which Elaine or combination of Elaines her story would follow; because that would influence her plot line.

Intellectual also wanted Jo to compile character notes and backstory for Sir Lancelot du Lac. “Read the character study by Jessie Weston”🐾 he said.

“You need to think about the name. Why is he du Lac? Was Lancelot stolen by the Lady of the Lake, as an infant? Or was he sent to the Island in the Lake for education and martial arts training? (as in Catherine Christian)🐾 Was it literally Fairy Land? (as in Gwen Rowley)🐾. Was he cast out on the waters of the lake to drown? (as in Mary S. Lam)🐾 Was Lancelot pagan or Christian? This is all important because it would impact his mental health, outlook on life, hopes and aspirations.”

“Speaking of mental health,” barked Intellectual “you need to decide the cause of the madness that comes upon Lancelot several times during the stories.”

“And if you are telling the story of Lancelot and Elaine,” he continued “you will need to have a thorough understanding of medieval wound care, the simples and science of that time.” 🐾

Intellectual produced references to doctoral theses, articles such as Penetrating Medieval Wounds and medical journals. But Jo showed no inclination to locate and read them.

She was eager to continue her writing and wanted a quick fix of basic information. With a deep sigh and a look that told Jo that Intellectual believed she was a very sloppy writer, Intellectual brought up some articles on the Internet.

“Anyone would think she is just writing fiction!” he grumbled.

Little Plump Jo was beginning to feel completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of reading that Intellectual was giving her. She started hanging out with Imaginational Dabrowski.

Imaginational was content to cuddle up with Jo on the couch or sit on the porch and describe the images in the Cloudbank and the happenings in the Fog Lake. He helped Jo to compose fanciful tales such as The Great Shalott to Camelot Damsel Floating Regatta. Jo enjoyed spending time with Imaginational; but Intellectual was horrified by the tone of the writing she produced afterwards.

The time allocated for Jo’s residency was coming to an end and she had not yet decided which of the Elaines, or combination of the Elaines, her Elaine would be. Therefore she had not developed her plotline fully. And she had only read a fraction of the reference materials.

“So you had better get writing fast, lady!” said Malory Tennyson.

“Would it help to pick up the writing pace if I put on The Ride of the Valkyries as background music?” That was Psycho Motor’s suggestion.

“No, that would not help at all!” said Jo. “That would just be distracting!”

And then Sir Bors appeared in the Fog Lake – good old gruff, dependable Bors. He rode into the scene in The Hermit’s cave and found The Hermit and Elaine conferring in hushed tones.

“I am looking for my cousin, Sir Lancelot du Lac,” he said.

“He’s not here” replied The Hermit

“He should be here now! I spend half my life searching for Lance. I wish he wouldn’t just go wandering off when he is wounded. Was he talking about walking among the stars?” 🐾

“You DO know this is all your fault!” Sir Bors yelled, looking up at Cloudbank Cabin. “You people up there in the cabin! Every time someone writes this story, we are all forced to re-enact it.”

“I get a cue that I need to go and find Lance. Sometimes that will be from Sir Gawain. Sometimes Sir Lavaine comes looking for me, and sometimes I  just set out to look for him.”

“When I get here, I never know exactly how the scene will unfold,” Bors said.

“I have to apologise (with tears perhaps) for having wounded Lance (which I didn’t do – he was wounded when the Armorican forces went to aid King Pelles as Catherine Christian tells it). 🐾

Anyway, the story has now become that he was wounded in a tournament. He was in disguise and wearing a red sleeve embroidered with great pearls, given to him by Elaine as a token. Lancelot would not ever do that! So I gathered our relatives and we all attacked him together and my lance broke off in his side.

So I have to turn up, apologise, admire Elaine and suggest that maybe Lance should marry her. Then I have to tell Lance how wroth Queen Guinevere is with him for wearing the red sleeve and tell him about another tournament to be held at All Hallows Mass. Lance has to decide to compete in it.”

“It has become a joke that we share. Sometimes it takes me longer to get to him than other times. So sometimes when I arrive, he has almost recovered and when he hears about the next tournament, he is excited and keen to test his fitness. He dons his amour and mounts his charger, which is too spirited. That always goes badly and he nearly dies again. So I go to that tournament and win because Lance is not competing.”

“Anyway, as I say, it has become a joke that we share.”

“Sometimes when I arrive, he will say ‘Do not even tell me about another tournament, Bors!’ and we both laugh.”

“But last time Lancelot said to me ‘Bors, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. You would think it would get easier until it was just something I could do with grace. But it does not get any easier. It seems the pain is worse each time and recovery takes longer. And when you tell me how angry Guinevere is, it breaks my heart. If she is angry with me, she may not be willing to meet me at the North Star. I would have to wander alone in a cold void.’

“You see they have made a pact to wait for each other at the North Star to face The Judgement together. Whenever Lancelot and Guinevere part they say, ‘I will meet you at the North Star’.

“They have sinned together and will face the earthly courts together. They promised each other that, if possible, they would face Eternal judgement together.

“But last time Lancelot said to me ‘Bors, if this ever happens again, next time I will not fight it. I will walk among the stars. You can tell her. She will know where she can find me.’

“And this time, for the first time ever, when I arrived Lancelot is not here.”

The Hermit and Elaine looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“Do you think Sir Lancelot will come back?” asked Elaine

“Not this time,” replied the Hermit.

“So what should we do now?” asked Elaine

“I will stay here in the cave,” replied the Hermit “ What about you? I hope you do not plan to pine away and float down to Camelot; because Sir Lancelot would not be there.”

“All the other times, Lancelot offered me land and wealth in his own realm beyond the narrow sea, to reward me for nursing him,” said Elaine. “I always refused because it had to be him or death; but I wish I had accepted it now.”

“Actually, you are in luck!” said the Hermit. “Gwen Rowley wrote that Sir Lancelot left a scroll with me before the tournament which would guarantee your future if he died.”

“Great, said Elaine “a Redundancy Package! I could buy the Artist Studio Tower on the Island of Shalott. I could be The Lady of Shalott and set up Charlotte’s Web Weaving. I could admire the view and incorporate it into my weaving and tapestries. I would not have to meet Lancelot. I would not have to get in the barge and float down to Camelot. I would not have to die an early death of unrequited love. And there would not be any disgusting wound care to manage.”

“This is all your fault, Little Plump Jo!” screamed Malory Tennyson. “what are you going to do about it?”

Intellectual Dabrowski started pacing. “This would not have happened if she had taken my advice. She did not assert control over the plot timeline or the character arcs and backstories.”

“Ow, ow, ow, ooooooooooo!” howled Emotional. Sensual sat and scratched his head.

Imaginational Dabrowski immediately went into utopian problem solving mode.

“As I see it Jo has a few options left now. She could treat this as a false report of Lancelot’s death. Or there could be a miraculous healing by the Holy Grail. Or Lavaine could find that Lancelot is not really dead, bring him to the cave and the Hermit and Elaine could…”

“No way!” yelled Elaine. “I have claimed the Redundancy Package already!”

“Or she could make this a role reversal ending,” suggested Intellectual. “They could float Lancelot’s body down to Camelot on the barge and have his half-brother, Sir Ector de Maris, speak his famous eulogy at this point.”

Intellectual struck a dramatic pose and started to recite

“Ah, Lancelot, thou were the head of all Christian knights, 🐾

“NO, NO, NO, NO!” screamed Malory Tennyson. “Lancelot must recover from this wound; so that he can be found in the Queen’s bedchamber, rescue her from being burnt at the stake, be tried and banished and besieged in France. As he is in France, he does not arrive in time for the Battle of Camlann, where both King Arthur and his wicked son Mordred die.

“Well, I only have one more day of my Residency here,” declared Jo. “I have no idea how I can write a resolution to this story in that time. It is just not possible!”

Little Plump Jo burst into tears.

“There, there!” said Sensual Dabrowski “Have some chocolate and a nice cup of camomile tea!”

“Come on, come on! Start writing!” That was Intellectual and Psycho Motor in unison.

Imaginational Dabrowski cuddled up to Little Plump Jo and looked out the window directing Jo’s attention to a cloud that looked like an eagle, or was it a dove, or was it an angel? They sat there together for a long time.

“Come on, come on! Start writing! What are you doing now?” demanded Intellectual.

“Something I should have done right from the start” said Little Plump Jo “I am praying!”

Jo had hardly finished praying when Malory Tennyson spoke up.

“I have come to a decision. I will extend your stay as Artisan in Residence at Cloudbank Cabin.”

Malory did not declare his ulterior motive in keeping Jo and the Dabrowski Dogs in the Cabin and manipulating Jo’s writing via the dogs in the future.

His tone was one of condescending beneficence.

“We will consider this first book as ending on a cliff hanger. Make it clear that it is not known whether Lancelot is still alive. That will encourage people to buy the second book to find out.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Malory Tennyson!” barked Intellectual.

“No need for thanks!” Malory risked showing his hand to Intellectual. “I will keep her here until she writes the whole epic in the way I want it written – even if it takes a thousand years.”

“But I am telling you right now,” said Elaine “ that I will not be continuing in my role as Elaine the Fair, Elaine the Lovely, The Lily Maid of Astolat. I will be forging an exciting future for myself as The Lady Charlotte-Elaine, The Lady of Shalott, entrepreneur owner of Charlotte’s Web Weaving. I will be working at weaving and tapestries for commissions for great courts and manor houses and selling beaded sleeves for tournament tokens as a pin money sideline to use up left-over fabrics.”

“Maybe Little Plump Jo should follow Elaine and write her story for the next book” suggested Imaginational Dabrowski.