Jaynaé Marie

Newsfeed #127 June 13, 2021 (13 Nárië)

I have NO issues in any representation of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not care if it is animated, live action, literary or spray painted on the side of a building. Expression is the highest form of flattery.

What I have a problem with is a representation that does not lead back to Tolkien. I purposely created “The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy” and its subsequent standalone books for the sole purpose to lead back to Tolkien’s original works. When someone says to me, “reading your story has made me want to read (or reread Tolkien),” my mission has been fulfilled.

I do not do what I do for money. I do not do it for notoriety which I have gained worldwide. I do it because of the love of reading and out of respect for my literary hero J.R.R. Tolkien. In the early days, when people confused my story with Tolkien, that upset me greatly. First of all, I do not think I sound like Tolkien as my story is told in the first person. Granted, I studied his language patterns and felt the need to take out anything “modern” in order to ensure my stories maintained a certain believability.

I have created characters when necessary but never once have I ever taken the works of Tolkien out of context. I “write around” the original material. I work with the original material. I am always referring back to the material to make sure I am capturing the essence of Middle-Earth as Tolkien created it. I made that promise to my father and Tolkien the very second I decided to write my story. I took the path less traveled at a time when Middle-Earth fan fictions on Tumblr were often filled with vulgarity and graphic sex.

I was on the last rung on a ladder of stories when I began “The Saga of Thranduil”. At any time, I could have turned the tide for more attention, but I refused. I could not bring myself to lessen the work of the man inspired me to write fantasy when I was a child. I knew anything less than my best would have disappointed my dying father. I continued on the path I chose.

When teachers started telling me they liked TKWRT and asked if they could read it to their students during a unit on Tolkien, I was shocked. When soldiers deployed in war zones asked for a copy of TKWRT, I was humbled. When high school students wrote me during Winter Recess about wanting to read TKWRT because they could not get to a library, I realized I had done something wonderful. When other published writers asked if my work was a continuation of Tolkien, I finally allowed myself to accept the reason so many people told me they had written to the Tolkien Estate asking about a “lost” book about Thranduil.

I know what I have done and will continue to do. I do not have any issues with how Tolkien is represented. I know how I represent Tolkien. He is never far from my mind whenever I write sentence. In fact, I am always surrounded by his books when I am working. I am telling histories through the eyes of his characters in his world. I make sure he is always front and center in that moment. From the naming of characters (often mentioned but never named) to new place names, I never am looking to the outside. My guide is Tolkien. Until the very last word, he will be the inspiration. He has to be, otherwise I am disrespecting his legacy, genius and his work. This entire series is dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien. I would not wish to give him anything he would not be proud to read himself.–Jaynaé Marie Miller, from Excerpts, A Memoir.

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So what is the answer to the question of U?

⚜️XIII⚜️: Chapter I/Part II (Book II)

As Alexandre became my servant, I became servant to my parents. It began simply enough—I was given a napkin to hand to my father at dinner. Soon enough, I was serving both my mother and my father regularly.

One particular morning, I ushered into my mother’s chambers and handed her chemise. I stood there for a moment wondering what to do.

“Kiss it,” I was told. “And hand it to Her Majesty.”

I looked at my mother. She glared at me impatiently waiting for me to fulfill my duty to her. I promptly did what I was commanded and her face softened, much to my relief. Not long thereafter, I was delivering her napkin at dinner as well.

I knew I was above all those that served the King and Queen—my parents. I was the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of France; how dare they? I knew I should not be subjected to such menial responsibilities. I felt there were no lessons to be learned in serving the self-serving so began to object to my parents’ life lessons.

It was winter when I first stood up against my lot in life. I had begun to grow weary of subservience. I realized that my father held little regard to my knowledge of my status in life. I knew he thought I was too young to know I was the son of the king and I felt it my duty to remind him. 

It was one evening in December when I was once again called to my duties as servant to the table of my father. I adamantly refused. I was promptly shown to my father’s table.

“What is this,” he asked me. “Why are you not about your duties to your father?”

“No,” I said, my arms folded across my chest. “I do not want to.”

“But I am the master,” he answered. “And you, you are my valet.”

“I am not your valet,” I said. “I am your son.”

“Would a son refuse to serve his father,” he asked. “And are you not the son of the king, Louis?”

I looked around to see everyone watching. My mother’s expression was one of disapproval—and in my youth, I could not tell with whom she was more disappointed. Finally, I gave up my futile mission. In surrender, I unfolded my arms and sighed.

“Now,” my father began. “Who are you?”

“I am Papa’s little valet,” I said softly.

My father smiled triumphantly as I handed him his napkin. Defeated, I turned slowly walked away. It would not be the last time I would give in to the power of my father but in my defeat, I would grow stronger.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIII by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 05-10-2021

Life in the quart of Henri IV is not always what it appears.