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dinranwen
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 Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:01 am Post subject: Tear Strung Lyre |
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Tear Strung Lyre-Prelude
In the days before a champion saved Enlayia from her wars, before the days the hall ever met in Ebn-dar their capital, even before their were noblemen or knights in the ancient kingdom of Gilead, a few people were born that were never forgotten by any Enlayian or by any other person who ever heard their sad, sweet tale.
In those old days, the men of Enlayia had not yet cleared much of the wood that lay within the borders of that mysterious land, and the wood was so thick that all one could see for miles around where the tall, thick, stately bark of many trees both thick and slender.
The pale green light that filtered through the leaves, the gentle sounds of birds among the branches, the cool air that smelled of the green mossy grass that grew there, and the plenty of animals for hunting should have cooled men’s hearts, but it did not.
In those days, the huntsmen of Enlayia were still new to the wonder of this peaceful forest, and their eyes seldom looked up from the ground they walked to observe the beauty of all that surrounded them.
In those days when all thought there should have been peace and prosperity, there was no peace but rather war of the worse sort. The woodsmen of Enlayia fought against one another until every man looked at another in suspicion and distrust.
Worse still, the Dundee men came from the north and went burning through the forest seeking pastureland for their many cattle and sheep. The Gildean's of the south, mostly farmers by nature due to rich soil of the land of their birth, came marching through Enlayia in hopes of herding the Dundee men back the land from which the had came. War was within the borders of Enlayia, hunger, and distrust.
Neighbor fought against Neighbor, while stranger fought stranger, and more often than not, the stranger fought and killed the native people of Enlayia. In vain now did many Enlayian’s seek for peace, for they found their enemies more willing to talk with axe and sword than to brandy words.
Soon, but not quite soon enough, the Enlayians and Gildeans joined their forces and succeed in forcing the Dundee back to the land where they came from, hopefully never to return. Enlayia laid aside its weapons then, declaring all wars illegal in their land, and they bid the Gildean neighbors a weary goodbye without much thanks.
Some Gildean never left the land in which they had shed so much blood, but brought their families to Enlayia, or took wives among the natives. Our tale begins with a man who made such a decision.
Tear Strung Lyre-Part 1-Chapter 1: A Begining
Gentle hills, the soft smell of pines, and the sweet song of birds cloaked the small glade where three men stood. The soft rustle of wings sounded as a small sparrow hawk settled in a tall tree nearby.
The hawk, a sharp-eyed friend of mine, gazed keenly at the men and took note of their words. It is from that hawk that we have received the beginning of this tale, and much of what know of this story is owed to that wise hawk who studied the speech of men. From his lofty peak on the tree, the hawk gazed down, and this is what he saw that day of those three men who have now become famous in various degrees in our country.
The eldest of the three stood tall that day, his proud shoulders not slumped by the age he wore so apparent on his head. A hoary head of curly gray hair crowned him with a respectful dignity that could not be ignored. A simple glance into his tan face traced with lines would show sternness, stubbornness, and steadfastness that was hard to find those days. Yet, one must only to look into the old man’s gray eyes to know that he was kind. Broad shoulders, harden muscles, and rough hands bore the signs of the farmer, but the axe that sat easily in his belt loop told the tale that he reaped men’s lives as well as grain. His name was Joses, or so we are told.
A younger man stands across from him, his arms crossed and his eyes raised in the stubborn defiance of youth. Yet he also was not a novice, although he was young and clearly the son of the older man, Joses. A pair of muscled arms, strong legs, and calloused palms showed that he too had learned to work for his bread. His hair was a chestnut brown and his eyes, but within his brown eyes, there lay a secret fire. Passionate, stubborn, and quick to wrath he was fiery, but he was also learning to bare burdens, responsibility, and tenderness to the smallest things by walking in the footsteps of his father. Younger, not a youth, for tales say that this young man was 21 when this tale began. His name has come a proverb and lesson in foolishness, for his name was Saul.
The third man stands in silent contemplation of the other two with his back leaned against a strong tree. He also was Joses son, and looked much as his father would have at the age 23. Simeon, as was his name, had inherited the lighter brown of their mother’s hair, and the gray eyes of their father. His broad shoulders, prominent chin, and massive arm muscles testified to his great strength, which came in useful in his work as blacksmith. Although his face was stern, his height and build threatening, his twinkling eyes testified to the fact that he was a many more ready with a smile than with a frown.
These three men were Gildeans who had been dismissed from their service in the Gildean army. They parted company from the main unit but days before, and now they took their mid-day rest not a two hours hike from the border of Enlayia and its capital city Ebn-dar.
Worried tones proceed from the father as he tried in vain to persuade his youngest son, Saul from his decision to stay in the country of Enlayia. His arguments were but in vain, for Saul stubborn stuck to his decision.
Saul, who was a woodsmen by nature and caver of wood by trade, had fallen in love with the countryside of Enlayia. He would stay, but not without his father’s blessing. Saul loved his father dearly, and he would not leave his hardworking father without his receiving his father’s approval of the path he had chosen. Therefore, Saul dug in his heals and argued with all his might for his cause.
Finally, Joses conceded to let his son stay knowing that he could not change his son’s mind or force him to go back to the land of Gilead without breaking both their hearts in the process. Shaking his head once more, Joses spread his hands open in a sign of resignation and surrender. “I can’t say that I am happy about this decision, but go with the blessing of the Lord my son. May He keep you in all your ways, give you wisdom to cool your rash head, and prudence, least you turn too stubborn to let even the Lord to guide you.” Joses words echoed with the ring of prophecy, and lingered in his son’s ears as a note of warning from that day forth.
Nearly shouting for glee, Saul heartily thanked his father. As the hawk watched, it was agreed that Saul would stay in Enlayia in Ebn-dar . Joses was pained at the thought that his sons were going to leave him if only for a little while. It was with this thought he made a provision for Saul and promise with Simeon. Reaching his hands in benediction to his younger son, he gave him this promise, “I will not have any say that I let my son go without hope or inheritance from his father’s hands. I will not sell all your inheritance, but keep a parcel of land which fell to you by lot of the Lord, so if you or any of your prosperity shall return to your land, they will not find themselves without a home.”
As for Simeon, he talked with his father a long time, while his brother hunted for their night’s dinner. After a while, Simeon and his father had come to a conclusion. “With your blessing, I will stay with Saul at least until his gets a place to stay, or properly settled with a wife which ever comes first. Saul will need me most within the first few years of difficulty that both you and I will know will come. Yet, I will not stay here there is too many memories of friends dying within this wood for me to make it my home, at least not now. I will come home as soon as I see my brother settled and not a moment later.”
Joses agreed, smiling proudly at his eldest son for so wise a decision. Reaching forth a hand touch his tall son’s head, he gave Simeon this tender blessing, “Very well, take the blessing of the Lord with you then. May the Lord guide you and give you counsel in times of need, I have a feeling you will need every ounce of His guidance and mercy.”
“And may the Lord be with you,” Simeon said in a loving reply, “and grant that you find hearth, home, and wife soon. May His graces dwell with richly and May you never cease to continue within His Peace.”
Saul returned successful from his hunt, and they said their final goodbye as the sun’s chariot, weary from its day’s race, began to head toward its rest in the golden west. The hawk watched the men’s final meal together, and not understanding the tender embraces of the men as they parted ways, took the wings of the wind as the sky turn a violet blue of the sweet and gentle twilight that bore the tidings of men’s rest in its gentle footsteps.
Unknowably, the hawk had seen, and heard the decision that would affect more than even Saul or his family could have known. The hawk had witnessed the event, which was a beginning of something larger than the decision of one man. Like the stone which ripples the water, this event began something that we have often call a tale, but would give birth to something only a legend could contain.
~~~
*More in next post*
Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Mar 14, 2007 11:01 am; edited 20 times in total
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| Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:05 am Post subject: |
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Time, our old friend and often our enemy, marked its slow pace as Saul and Simeon won many battles in the land of Enlayia. Not the least of which was earning the deep respect of the Enlayians themselves, who had now come to look at their Gilead neighbors in a grudging respect but also suspicion.
By the end of their first year, Saul and Simeon were known as men you could trust, good businessmen, gentlemen, and most important in the Enlayian mind, hard workers. Within a short period, the men of Enlayia trusted them, even with their daughters, and many a mother looked at these two men with hope.
Soon, Simeon had started to work as a head blacksmith in a prominent smithy, and Saul had enough money to buy a small chart where he could display his popular wares of carved figurines. Days went by and weeks, until one day Saul fell in love with a girl whose name was Lyra.
Lyra was a small, sweet, smiling thing whose tongue was always filled with a song. Often called Lark, she was the younger daughter of Bochim and Mara, the younger sister to the pairs eldest daughters whom people took little note. Men were drawn to her rather than her older sister, for Lyra was beautiful, lithe, and as full of youth as her sister was filled with age. Her sister at the age of 25 was already considered an old maid, and many men refused her for this fact. For these reason's and many more, the men of the village preferred chassing Lyra who was both young and beautiful. Yet Lyra’s eyes were only for one man alone.
The stranger from Gilead, Saul, drew her eyes as month after month she saw the fruit Saul’s hard work brought forth. Many a day she could be seen hanging near the cart of Saul smiling sweetly at the man as he bantered with her teasingly, his brown eyes taking on a new light softer light as he feet caught the light step that only love gave. With bowed head, and humble petition he asked to court Lyra.
The petition was welcomed gladly as her Mother and Father rejoiced in the fact that at least one of their daughters would marry. They were a poor family, the family of Bochim, and could not offer much in the way of dowry; therefore, their hope was laid on the beauty of their youngest daughter. Meanwhile, the elder sister stood in a corner her head bowed in shame and sorrow, as a silent tear stole across her cheek. She had entertained hopes also, but seeing her sister’s joyful response at Saul’s suit, she once again stepped aside preferring the hope of the younger to her own vain desires.
Months past and Simeon heard much of Lyra’s beauty from the mouth of Saul. Saul had changed much from the stern, unyielding woodsmen he had been, in few short weeks of his courting with gentle Lyra. On a typical day, Simeon would be forced to hear with much sighing and painful glances, the gracefulness of Lyra. “Oh Simeon, I simply don’t know what I will do if he father refuses to let me marry her for she is so beautiful that I pine for the sight of her every time I have to come to the city to sell the wood that I have carved or cut. Her hair is like the bark of oak tree on a sunny day after it has rained, and her eyes are the purest light green a man has ever beheld. I could look at her for hours, lost amidst the forest of her expressive eyes that reminds me of the light of the woods that I learned to hold so dear. Her neck is as ivory, her cheeks as the rose, and when she walks, nay I cannot not say she walks, for she glides. It would be vain indeed to say Lyra walks for she flies as the wind and the grace of the shallow is in her steps.”
Such was his talk until one summer; the brothers were able to buy a small cottage in the woods with their combined incomes. It was a beautiful property lined with a stream nearby on one side of the property, a small but fruitful pear orchard, and surrounded by the tall stately pines of Enlayia from which Saul got most of his wood for carving.
Rejoicing in their success, Saul went with a hope to Lyra’s father hoping that maybe now his suit would be accepted. Humbly kneeling before her father and mother, Saul asked from them for permission to beg for Lyra’s hand. The suit was accepted, and Lyra with a song of triumph and song joyful agreed, practically throwing herself in Saul’s arms. The court was accepted, the date of the marriage set, and the fate of one couple forever bound.
~ ~ ~
In glorious reds, gold, oranges, and yellows of fall, Saul and Lyra wed standing underneath the bright chapel that nature herself made for them that day. Standing with pride at their side, Simeon watched proudly as his brother married his bride that he talked of with such pride.
As for the sister, she stood there also, her cheeks pale, but her chin lifted high. Kind and gracious as her sister was innocent and carefree, it was with a whole heart she congratulated her sister’s happy marriage.
That night with simple sweetness of one who knows how to take a defeat well, she said goodbye to the pair. She was not seen again for sometime, for her mother was not blind. Mara knew that her eldest daughter had loved Saul, and feared unfairly, therefore she sent her daughter in shame to dwell in a nunnery with an Enlayia order of church virgins who acted as nurses in the district. “Think on your fate, and consider wisely what you should do,” was all Mara said in the way of a goodbye. Mara was somewhat ashamed at her eldest daughter now that her youngest daughter was married, and she hoped that her daughter would quietly take the hint and join the nunnery.
Yet her father loved her, for he had known that he had loved Saul but he did not fear for her, but rather trusted his daughter’s nature to keep her free from evil thoughts or jealousy. He did not wish her to join the nunnery, but still he sent her away with silent glances filled with hope. Like a shadow that fades quickly away, she stepped of the stage of the little play of her sister’s life, yet unknowing what fate would await her someday.
This neither Saul, nor Simeon knew of the girl's affection for Saul, although they might have guessed, but that we do not know. What we do know is that rather than leaving as one might expect, Simeon stayed reasoning well that the cost of the wedding and a new bride would be too much for Saul to handle quiet yet.
Therefore, he decided to stay until he could bring news to his family that Saul’s first child was born. Judging from the loving glances of the couple, Simeon knew it would not be long.
Harvest went by, then winter, and finally spring melted the snow that covered the branches of many tall mountains, hills, and trees. As spring began to break the hard face of winter with its slow blossoming, Lyra also began to bud also her stomach grew larger with the hope that she had within her.
Early that March, just before the main rivers of the land freed themselves from their icy chains, Lyra begged a pardon of Saul. Placing one hand on her bulging stomach, Lyra made her plea with a pleading voice and tearful eyes. She begged her husband to take her to the High Hills of the North to see the breaking of the falls. She had never seen the falls, and she wished to see them while she could. Saul, unable to refuse his wife’s pleas, yielded and the began to make their slow way towards the Hills just South of the Mighty Mountain chain of the North.
The High Hills were considered to foot hills of those Mountains, and it was from their icy heights that land received much of its generous streams, lakes, and rivers.
It was agreed that Simeon would guard their house and the fragile blooms of their orchard until they returned. They promised to back within a month, but Simeon was filled with a strange foreboding as he watched the couple nosily depart on the backs of two sturdy horses.
Time, cruel as it was, seemed to tick the time away until seconds seemed like days to Simeon, and the days felt like months. At last, after a long and anxious wait, the time of the pairs return drew close. Everyday, Simeon sat outside looking for their glad return worried every day that they had been delayed by the birth of Lyra’s child.
A month passed and still there was no sign of the couples return. Finally, as the month of May turned into June, Simeon spotted a lone figure heading down the path towards Saul’s home. Thinking it was some beggar or thief, Simeon grabbed an axe to turn away the visitor. As the stranger drew closer, Simeon could see its matted hair, its torn clothes, and severe bruise on the creature’s body. Simeon’s hear turned in compassion and he dropped the axe, rushing forward to support the man as he stumbled. When the man lifted his eyes, Saul knew it was his brother.
Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:37 pm; edited 6 times in total
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:07 am Post subject: |
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| *If this is made the decision point, the question will be: What happened? Where's Lyra? What happened to Saul, why does he look so bedraggled?
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:15 am Post subject: |
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Haven't got time to read it just now - but unless it's a new chapter, try to keep everything in one post.
Double/Triple posting isn't necessary - just stick it at the end.
If it's something you forgot to say, then you can use the Edit button to add it in.
~
A simple tilde like that is all you need to seperate between different things you're talking about.
or maybe something more obvious like a line...
-----------------------
Happy Writing 
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:28 am Post subject: |
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| (Oh....*Blushes* I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm so used to having to work within word limits that it's just habit to double or triple post things now. But thanks for informing me.)
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:34 pm Post subject: |
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| Okay, I've decided to not make this the decision point, I decide by including more I can make things much more interesting. So Chapter 1 Part 2 will be posted soon.
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Diamons
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:37 pm Post subject: |
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dinranwen, as long as your in this community, know one thing. We don't yell at new people for making mistakes. We are human. It is human nature to make msitakes.
Occasionally there is some flaming, some spice between us (Ravenwing, me), but we always cool down.
English: City of IF - We're Friendly 
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:41 pm Post subject: |
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Although what had happened had never come clear, a small lark and wood owl both agreed on this story. Saul and Lyra had been attacked by a small group of bandits near the falls that day. The bandits had quickly knocked Saul over the head and then beat him badly. They had left him bleeding and unconscious where fell on the ground.
Saul never found Lyra, but only a trail of blood that told no tales. In haze, Saul wandered nowhere until one day he found her pack smeared with blood caught in the roots of great tree in the brooks that lead away from the great falls. The pack was Lyra’s, and Saul clung to it desperately in those first few weeks of sickness.
Slowly but surely, the lark and the owl sat nearby the cabin window and listened to sounds of healing, but also madness that escaped the window. It would not be until late June that the fever that held Saul in the hazy of madness, departed. That month, Saul returned to normal, if normal it could be called, once again returned grudgingly to life with a stern face, icy glances, and harden heart.
It was without a smile that Saul once again returned to the market, a cool businessman that had replaced the kind man he once was. A shrewd gaze replaced the eyes of grief and even Simeon stepped lightly around the man his brother had become.
Once again, Saul began to eat and strength as Simeon had never hoped his brother would after his great loss. The miraculous recovery was not without purpose. Saul had sworn to the Lord in his wanderings back to home a rash vow, which would be difficult to fulfill. Yet, a vow sworn to the Lord must be kept and never broken no matter how difficult it was to fulfill. Saul had sworn that he would bury Lyra’s bones, no matter how long it took in finding them.
Saul also had another purpose that he did not yet speak, but let it fester within the secret of his heart until it became a fire to his flesh and a poison to his marrow. He would make another vow soon, but not now, nor as rashly as the first but would wait after he had healed and again was strong enough to fulfill it.
Two months exactly after Saul’s return in the heat of June, Lyra’s father stood within the door a grave matter weighing heavily on his mind. “It is our custom within our land that if a man’s wife leaves or dies within the first year of their union for a cause not by the man’s intent, that we give to him a sister of the dead girl who shall serve in her stead even taking the name of the deceased. In this way the man will not be left without a wife to bear him sons, nor our daughter’s inheritance which is now yours by right be taken into another woman’s hands and be profaned. I have yet another daughter; will you take her to wife? I know you are foreigners here, but I must tell you that if you refuse this offer I must drive from my sight or I must require your vow that you will never marry nor take another woman to your bed but remain a eunuch in the dead woman's honor.”
“You would not give your daughter to a man who walks as one dead, would you?” Saul said blandly, his dull eyes gazing blindly at the man who had been his father in law. “I will not take another wife, nor yet will I take a vow, for a man should only swear himself twice in his life, if at all.”
“Yet there is another matter which I must speak, my eldest daughter loves you. Surely, you know that. Ever since you have returned, she pines as an unwanted dog that lies lonely in the streets. She eats not, nor touches water. She knows of our traditions and has a hope, if a false hope that you will marry her and perhaps learn to return her love. Every day that I waited, she seemed to waste away a little more, until I could bear the sight of her shinning eyes and starved face no longer, but I ask you sooner than some would have. I fear that if I bring your refusal she will disappear a little each day, until there is naught but a shell left and she will die. I have lost one daughter, would you be the one who causes me to lose the other, the last of my children, bearers of my line?”
Saul scowled, and Simeon winced as he looked at Saul from where he sat watching his brother during Lyra’s father’s speech. Simeon knew his brother wished to die, but for some reason unknown to him, Saul had chosen to live. The reason was probably revenge, Simeon knew.
Although Saul had said nothing, Simeon knew his brother in more ways than he would have liked. Whatever Saul’s choice, Simeon knew that the results would end in sorrow unless the Lord himself worked in Saul’s now hardened heart.
If Saul refused to marry this girl, another's womean's blood would be on his hands, but if he agreed Saul would feel that he had betrayed his one true love. Whatever his decision will be it would change the course of his path and this woman's also.
*Okay, decision point time, Should Saul agree to marry this Girl? Should he refuse? Or should he do something else? The choice is up to you, so vote wisely.
Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Aug 05, 2006 2:59 pm; edited 2 times in total
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:42 pm Post subject: |
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| dinranwen, keep a post per chapter, don't continue off, or else a mod will delete this topic. For every new chapter a new post.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:45 pm Post subject: |
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| Thanks, I'm still new here and am unused to all the technicalities, but don't worry I'm taking notes *scribbles furiously on notebook pad* and I hopefully won't this same mistakes again. Thanks for letting me know that no flames are forth coming *carefully removes helmet, :biggrin: * I feel much better now.
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Muaddib
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| Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 8:07 pm Post subject: |
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| Looks interesting. As Smee said, try to keep the same chapter in one post as much as possible. I'll comment on the story itself later.
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| Posted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 3:41 am Post subject: |
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Well, I might just take that statement back. I'm pretty sure you might be flamed by two people.
Lord of Fables(guess who.....)
Lordofthenight
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 5:19 am Post subject: |
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Finally caught up with this one.
First: Please put more spaces in! At the end of a paragrpah and between people speaking. It was a struggle for me to read.
As for the story: A few errors here and there, but nothing major.
I like it so far. A good story building up here, though I am confused about one thing. Why hasn't he gone back and searched for Lyna already? It seems something he would have done as soon as he was fit again.
This influences me on the DP. I would say that this would spur him on to return to the place they were attacked, and search for her again. If he can't find her, then I think he would take up the offer.
A promising start! Just sort out the spacing please!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 6:30 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks for the comments both good and bad, as for Saul's reasons...His mind his own, not mine, nor anybody else's. Perhaps more will be revelead in time *hint, hint*. I'm sorry about the spacing, I'm mostly transfering from word and boy is copy and pasting hardwork. I'll work on the errors and see if I can get them fix before I post the next chapter.
Decision Point: Should Saul agree to marry this unknown girl? Or should he disagree? Should he take immediate action or something else?
Comments are still welcome and I'm going to wait for more response before asking one of the mods to post a poll. Thanks again, Dinranwen.
Opinions so far:
Forget the Girl! Go look for Lyra, You idiot!--1 person
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 11:40 pm Post subject: |
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I like the start of this story. A couple of mistakes, but overall, it's very stylish and intriguing.
I guess, with Saul, I think he'll feel like he's betraying his first love whatever he does. His poor dead wife hasn't left his heart, so he has to be true to her.
But, if he allows his love's sister to die, what sort of man would that make him in her eyes?
I think he'll take her on, but be generally cold and angry about it. She won't get any joy out of the arrangement, and niether will he.
Then, the hunt for the bones...
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| Posted: Sun Jun 18, 2006 6:53 pm Post subject: |
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Aaah, a person after my own heart...if story writers could vote, your opinion would definetly by mine. Thanks for the compliments, and please don't be afraid of commenting on my mistakes, I'm horrible with grammer so I need all the help I can get.
But your right in one way at least, this story is a whole lot about regret, betrayal, revenge, and perhaps...redemtion.
Please keep comments coming! Like I said before I'm going to keep this forum open for a while to allow for anyone who likes to coment to be able to. This will also give me time to write a couple chapter revesion so I will be ready no matter the result.
Opinions so far:
Forget the Girl! Go for Revenge/find Lyra's Bones!---1
Marry the Girl! But then Revenge....---1
Other--Please post!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Thu Jun 22, 2006 7:24 pm Post subject: |
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To Lordofthenight:
Thank you, thank you, thank you. *grovels* Your kindess, milord is appreciated.
To the rest of ya:
As y'all heard the poll is up so please vote. If you have another viewpoint, please post it. I will take in these view points for the story latter. Thanks to y'all.
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Ravenwing
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| Posted: Mon Jun 26, 2006 7:19 pm Post subject: |
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Have to go with Stoat's suggestion. Saul is the kind of person, I see, wanting to be a good Samaritan.
P.S. Dinny, don't need to blow up Lordy's ego anymore. LOL. 
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 5:21 am Post subject: |
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Okay so counting the post and the votes. we have:
*Forget the Girl! Revenge awaits--1
*Marry the girl! But then Revenge--2
*Other-0
So unless someone has any other input, I will probably end the poll later today and post the next chapter then or tommorrow. But I'll leave the poll up for a little while more...
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 7:43 am Post subject: |
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| I'm going to go ahead and take down this pole, Chapter 2 coming soon...
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 8:06 am Post subject: |
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Tear Strung Lyre
Chapter 2: No heart to Give
“I hear your plea old man,” Saul growled, “I will not see another woman die, if I must marry her to prevent that death, so be it! Yet, I do not promise to love her; I cannot love another ever again. I can promise to take care of her, and to leave her well off if I should die, but no more, and no less. My heart will never be hers, make sure she understands that!”
“Very well,” Lyra’s father said in an icy voice, “when shall the marriage be? It must be soon, or you’ll be marrying a ghost not my daughter.” The concern in the man’s eyes was as clear as day, and one could see that he truly loved his daughter, and loved her more so because of his other daughter’s death. All the love and purpose of his mind seemed to be on seeing his eldest daughter happy as if she were a vessel that he could pour into all the hopes he had for a future into her.
“You have your costumes, and we have ours in Gilead. It is our custom to morn for the dead for three months." Saul said in a menacing tone, "Let me finish the time of my morning, and I will marry your daughter within the fatness of the fourth month according to the time you shall choose.”
“So be it,” Bochim extended his hand and shook Saul’s hand in the ancient sign of a sealed bargain. The man held his grip unto Saul’s hands as the handshake ended and glared deep into Saul’s eyes, “I warn you though,” he said leaning closer to Saul, “that if you hurt my daughter, you will not live to see another harvest.”
With those words, the man stomped outside leaving Saul standing motionless in the doorway, his back towards Simeon.
“So it as you wished in the beginning, your little brother is getting married, and will finally settle down with a wife.” Saul’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to face Simeon the moonlight shining though the open doorway behind him.
“I did not say that.” Simeon said standing as he pushed away from the table.
“But you wished it, you cannot deny it.”
“I did,” Simeon said, steadily looking into his brother’s blazing eyes calmly.
“Well, your wish is come true. Now, go home! I desire your company here no longer.” Saul gestured toward the door as he grabbed Simeon’s bedding from the floor, and quickly rolled it into a bundle. Tossing it at his brother, Saul rushed madly about the cabin grabbing Simeon’s belongings, provisions, and a few gold coins. Simeon gazed at his brother in dismay as he sat for a few moments at a complete loss for words.
“There,” Saul said slamming the items he gathered on the table, “That should suffice thee.”
“Saul, perhaps I could stay, you need me,” Simeon said his eyes filled with concern and worry as dismay filled his voice.
“No,” Saul said yelling at the top of his voice, “I don’t need you, I don’t need anybody. Don’t you get it; I do not need your help any longer! I am a full-grown man; I do not need my big brother to change my diapers any longer. No leave.” Saul pulled his hair and seemed close to tears or a fight. Simeon watched his brother closely as Saul fingered a dagger at his waistline unconsciously.
Simeon knew that if he did not leave, he would no longer be facing his brother but a madman he could not handle, and more than likely it would be his blood on the floor not Saul’s.
“Fine, I’ll go back to the city, if you need anything…” Simeon said as he hurriedly gathered the bundle on the table, leaving the coins where they were, and slowly backing toward the door.
“No, go home. Go back where you belong! Do you think I do not know of your promise to our father? Therefore, go, be happy while you may, for tomorrow you may die, or perhaps I will,” Saul said chuckling insanely. After his laugh, a sinister glare came into his eyes that Simeon had never seen and hoped never to see it again in any man’s eye. For what he saw was death, death, and pain for himself if he did not comply with this man’s commands immediately. “But if you don’t leave within the week, I’ll hunt you down and make you leave, one way, or the other.”
Fearing for his brother and his own life, Simeon agreed hoping that perhaps their father could advise him on what to do. The next day saw him quickly slipping out Enlayia unmarked by any living thing except for a shadow that grimly carried an axe and an old fox that told us the tale.
~ ~ ~
That fall, Mother Nature once again put on her colors but instead of being bright vibrant ones full of cheery tunes, dull browns, sickly greens, and cheerless yellows decorated the scene where a happy crowd had stood but a year before. Only the parents of the bride stood in the clearing witnessing the marriage of one happy bridegroom, and fearful bride. An Enlayian priest full dressed in all the prompt and show of his order, looked down his sharp nose at the pair before him. It was clear in his icy blue gaze that he was simply doing his duty here, and that a hefty price would be levied at the end of this cheerless ceremony.
“We stand here today to join this woman and this man together in marriage.” The priest intoned in an emotionless voice as he lifted his baldhead to gaze above the pair, “Yet, we are not forgetful that this union is not made without sorrow. For this man’s wife died, leaving him without issue, and without the comfort of a wife. Another woman, perhaps, may serve for the dead, therefore we have taken a woman from among her sisters, and she stands before us this day,” the priest paused shortly stocking his dark shaggy beard that was dotted with gray, as he looked at the girl next her pale bridegroom.
“It is with this thought that I ask thee woman, will thou take the place of the deceased and become the wife of this man?”
Lyra’s elder sister peered through her veil at her groom with a seeking glance. Saul stood pale, grim, and stern beside her not saying a single word or even looking in her direction. Silently tears began to well in the girl’s eyes as she realized that though this man would marry her if he must, he would never love her, at least not the way he had loved her sister.
She knew the tradition of her people well, and knew that by saying yes she was doing more than simply marrying the man she had learned to love, surrender, and tried in vain to forget. If she said yes, she would take on Lyra’s name but much more than her name. If she said yes, not only would her name be changed to Lyra but also from that day, forth she would no longer be herself, but would become her sister in everyone’s eyes.
To say yes to this man, was deny herself, for she would have to become like Lyra in every way possible, and the girl she once was would cease to exist. Her name would be forgotten and would be as if she had never existed. From every record and from every history they would cross her name out, and every memory of her original life would be forgotten never again told in rumor or tale.
It would be as if she had never been born. Nevertheless, she knew what she had to say, she already knew her answer.
“I do,” she said standing up straight, her shoulder’s thrown back proudly as she tired in vain to stop the tears that now started to flow down her checks.
Perhaps, she thought as she once again glanced at her husband to be, he will learn to love me a little in his own way. 'If he only loved me as a sister, I would be content,' was her only silent thought.
“Then I name thee Lyra, and from this day forth ye shall be as her, and shall be her indeed. Let it be known throughout the land that the name to be forgotten is to be struck from every list, and every memory of what once was but now never shall have been, be forgotten.”
“So be it,” intoned her family.
“So be it,” intoned Saul.
“So be it,” said the girl who was now called Lyra, the tears cracking her clear voice with sorrow.
“Join hands,” the priest said, and then proceeded to mumble some words in ancient language nobody knew.
Then proceeded to declare primly, “You stand already married to this woman before the state, but let it be said that with these joining of hands that this couple have renewed their union again tightening the bonds already tied. You may kiss your wife.” The priest intoned as he released the pair’s hands.
Saul step forward lifting his new Lyra’s veil, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. Then turning to face the crowd, Saul lifted his voice and announced, “I promise that I will take care of this woman for as long as my life shall last, however short that will be. I will provide with hearth and home. If I should die for some cause, I can promise that she will not be left desolate for I have laid a store aside for the woman whom I will not touch, and behold; I have given her the land for her own so she may be able to live in this place, no matter what happens to me. Now, therefore, go and find what peace you can, there is nothing else for you to see this day.”
The girl’s father, a tall rugged man dressed in his best fur and leather tunic for this occasion stepped forward to kiss his daughter on her cheek. “May you be blessed my daughter,” he whispered into his only child’s ear while his well trimmed beard tickling her right ear, as he leaned close, “I will not forget either thee or thy sister whom thou hast become, no matter what the words of priest. For I loved thee as well as thy sister, never forget that.”
Taking his daughter’s hands close to his, her father pressed a sheathed dagger in her hands. The sheath was decorated ornately in the greens, browns, and blues Enlayians loved, and in the handle of the blade was set with a single stone that seemed a strange mixture of blue and green. It was a wedding dagger that rich fathers gave their daughters, but the girl knew he father could little offer such a trifle.
“A gift to mark your year together,” he said aloud, but as he leaned close to kiss both her cheeks he softly whispered into her ears, “The blade is sharp and strong. Do not hesitate to use it; I do not trust the man your new husband has become.” Stepping away from his eldest daughter, her father saluted Saul stiffly with an upright hand in a gesture of peace and farewell.
Her mother haggard with grief kissed her daughter’s cheeks as one dazed, and shook the hand that Saul offered blindly. As her mother stumbled away, the girl gazed once again glanced at her husband her eyes filled kindness that few people ever found.
Instead of the traditional wedding feast the girl deserved, she fixed a simple stew with what she could find. The smell of cooking seemed to awaken Saul out of his daze and for the first time Saul truly looked at his new bride.
His new wife looked nothing like his old Lyra, except for the same chin and nose they seemed to had both inherited from their mother. Everything else about this girl separated her from his old wife like night from day. Where his Lyra’s hair had been a rich golden chestnut that matched his own hair, this girl’s hair was dark. Her brown hair was so dark and so thick that it was nearly black, yet within her dark tresses, there gleamed the hint of red and chocolate brown.
Lyra’s hair had been long and curly coming down to her skinny waist, but this girl only a little wave in her hair that came only to the middle of her back. Where Lyra had been skinny, almost frail, yet somehow strong, this girl was well built and her now barred forearms showed that this girl was not afraid of work.
Lyra had reminded Saul of the willow and birches of this country, sturdy but slender, strong but frail in its gracefulness, but this girl remained him of the tall, thick, stately pine that dotted the entire countryside. Saul made note of the differences coolly like a merchant checking his wares for flaws, and as he coolly noted that this girl was not ugly, he made a list of ten faults for everything good he found in this girl.
That night the owl that had often sat at Saul’s bedside during his sickness listened closely as he heard Saul make it abundantly clear that he had married her out of pity not love, that he could never love her, and that she would never be his wife in any way other than name.
Coldly the man’s voice turned to ice as he told her to give up all hopes she had ever entertained of love, caring, children, or anything other than a strict fulfilling of her needs.
“I have promised to give you a home, money, food, and anything else you might need or desire. What else can I give you, is there anything you desire other than what you already asked me to do? Tell me what you would wish for, and I would give it to you, for such is the vow that I have made.” Saul said in a business like tune as his new wife sat shivering across from him at the table she had set for what should have been her wedding feast.
The maiden, who was an honest and blunt girl by nature, said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Your heart,” she said simply as if she was asking for no more than some salt for her soup, a piece of cloth for a dress.
Amazingly, Saul laughed, his laughter was filled with irony, but still it was a laugh, the fist such laugh that he had uttered out of his madness. “You do not know what you ask. Nor could I give it to you, for I have no heart to give. It died a long time ago with someone else that I loved dearly. Therefore, ask not for my heart, nor my love for I cannot give them to you. They are long forgotten, gone never again to return.”
“I am dead man walking, maiden whom I took to wife. Do you ask a corpse to eat? Would you give dry bones water to drink? I trow not. Therefore, do not seek to nurse the dead or heat their passions for their blood is cold, neither will they awaken, and I am one of them.”
“You may have the bed this night; I will not sleep here, but in the lean-to where I keep my shop. If you fear me over much, lock the door behind me. In fact, do so, for I no longer trust myself to any vow great or small, except one.”
~~~
Before day dawned each morning, Saul would be gone leaving his pale wife alone and sad. Days went past and slowly, the girl pale cheeks began to gain the luster of full of health, and her eyes once again sparkled. No one quiet knew what gave the girl the strength, or the joy she gained but each night as the lark settled in its nest, and the owl rustled its wings Lyra would silently bare the harsh words of Saul.
Perhaps, as a rabbit who lived under the cabin once told me, the strength came from the merry children, which came to visit her each day. Perhaps as the fox that in a stump contends, it was because she fixed a basket of bread for an old widow nearby with bread once a week. Perhaps as the house mouse gossips while sitting on our writing stool wearing her best Sunday bonnet, it was because she took comfort from the group of women she sewed on the evenings during the middle of the week.
Nevertheless, with some preference we refer to a gentle lady dove friend of ours who once silently whispered of missionary of Gilead.
The missionary had started a small church nearby and had invited everyone to come, including a lonely girl who stood in the far corner of the market where he made the announcement. The Enlayian priesthood had laughed, for they knew well no member of their church would not go because of the threat of death. Any who went to such a meeting would be thrown out of the Enlayian church than hung on the nearest tree, the proud hypocrites proclaimed as they boasted of their kindness to the Enlayia people to the Gildean missionary.
Yet, people did go at night when none could see, thinking none would go but themselves. Begging Saul’s permission to go on some little errand each night, Saul’s wife also secretly went standing in the corners of the church as she heard the missionary simply preached from a book that he called the word of God.
Then one night, the dove remembers well, the lone girl in the corner waited after everyone had left. There by the altar, the girl knelt next to the priest and asked him of his God. The priest with kindness took her hands in his, and there by the altar he led her to his Savior and King. Whispered prayers were said that night, and although the dove could not understand the girl’s word, she understood the plea in the maiden’s voice. She also by the joy in the girls eyes as she had left, that another child of this world had become the daughter of the Creator who had made all things, as the dove knew well.
The dove notes the beginning of the girl’s bright eyes, cheerful tones, and lighter step to that day. Whatever the cause or reason one thing was sure, the maiden was happy, caring, and full of purpose from that day on. The girl still patiently tried to help Saul and sturdily bore his ever-changing moods. Patience met Saul's fits of anger, tenderness comforted his sorrow, love conquered his hatred, and kindness dealt with his short fits of madness.
It was with sadness that the girl realized that with each passing day, a little of her hope and love her died while her pity for Saul grew until caring, tenderness, and pity mixed in a rich bittersweet drink.
As for Saul, he also went somewhere each night. A secret and hidden place, of which he had told no one, and if it had not been for one sharp eagle we would have never have heard the tale of where Saul went each night. At the back of orchard near the only willow tree on his property, Saul had hid something very precious to himself.
Each night he would go there allowing himself to fall to his knees near only willow tree on his property where would he allow himself to break the chilly shell in which he had surrounded himself. Slowly Saul would begin to dig, partly with his hands, partly with his shovel, a place in the ground that was marked by a small rock. His efforts would soon yield a small box that had carefully created over a month before. It was a small thing without much decoration, but Saul held close to bosom as if it was the most precious thing in the world to him. Slowly, revently, Saul opened the box and allowed the failing sunlight to shine on the contents of the box. Inside lay Lyra’s packs and the clothes, she had worn on the fateful day, but Saul had also hid something else in this box of memories. A small object was wrapped in the veil Lyra had worn on their wedding day.
Saul pressed the package to his lips and muttered a soft prayer half to himself and half to the God that had abounded in his grief. As the last rays of sunlight came from the horizon, Saul unwrapped the veil from around the object. It was small wooden carving that Saul had careful carved every time his brother was gone into the city during the two months Simeon had cared for him in his sickness.
The carving was the exact image of Lyra and within the wooden her minute features were recorded just they had been a month before her death. The statues hair flowed down her back as the figure looked down towards a small bulge in her stomach. One of her hands was pressed to her stomach that contained the child Saul had so much hoped for.
Each night Saul would cling it to his breast, and whisper to it as if in prayer. That tree had become a shrine to him, and Lyra the dead goddess who had replaced his living God.
Every night Saul would make his way to that willow, and every night the eagle would mark him sadly shaking his wise head at the foolish of men for denying the Creator who had made both eagles and men. A wiser eagle than he, he once concluded, would have to figure out the riddle of humans and their idols made by their own hands.
Saul knew that there had only been one reason that he had not searched for her bones or her killer before, and that reason was that Saul didn't even know who the man was. Even the memory of his attacker's face was dim to him, but no matter Saul was determined to overcome such trival matters. But for now, he had another reason for not leaving and that reason was his new wife.
Saul and his wife continued thus until a chilly September turned into an icy October. The lark ceased his singing as he heard Saul yell at the woman he had married as he told her of the rash vow he had made.
There in the cabin Saul's head was thrown back as his eyes filled with a resolute purpose, “I have vowed a vowed, to the Lord God Almighty, the true God, not the false one you worship with your dead traditions.” Saul said cruelly to his wife, while his filled with scorn for her, “I have sworn, and swear again, that I will not rest until I see Lyra's bones buried. Moreover, lo, I make another vow in your ears from which I will not be swayed. I swear that I will revenge Lyra for every drop of blood her killers spilt and repay threefold on their own heads. God do so and more unto me if I do not vow this vow."
Saul's wife stood cowering in the kitchen, shaking from head to toe from the pure wrath in Saul's fiery eyes that seemed to stare right through her very being.
"I have sworn not to leave desolate, and I have fulfilled that vow.” Saul said icily, “This bag of gold should suffix thee." Saul tossed the bag in his hand towards his wife, and grasping the axe that sat on the floor next the door Saul stomped out of the cabin into the darkness of the night.
~~~
The next day dawned was born bright and fair but a storm raged within the heart of one lone maiden as she stood on before her house. Saul had left had left a clear path for her to follow judging from the destruction before her in the woods. Saul’s path was marked with destruction and chaos, yet the girl’s heart longed to follow the man she had learned to love, forget, love again, and then pity.
Did she love Saul enough to follow him on a desperate quest? Looking back, the maiden realized that the emotion that she had first felt for Saul had been only a physical attraction and a respect for the man, not love. That the physical attraction she had once long ago felt had turned to pity. In a way, she now realized, she did love Saul but the way a mother loves her child or a sister loves her brother, not the way a woman loves her husband.
Perhaps that love would come, and Saul too would also learn to love her and they would have the children that were so important to both the Gildean and Enlayian mind. However, in order for even the chance of a hope of love to come pass, she would have to follow the one man that she had once loved and yet did not dare trust.
As the wind caressed her cheeks, the maiden’s eyes grew strong, her chin resolute, and her shoulders became thrown back. She would follow him, for within the few minutes of quiet competition that the knowledge struck that within her heart, she possessed the only thing that could heal Saul’s troubled mind. For the maiden now realized that she now knew the one who could heal all hurts and that only He could help her husband.
Yet something held her back, Saul was clearly dangerous and deadly. To follow him would be death, yet to not follow him would be death also. The traditions of her land would see to that, especially if Saul was found to be dead.
**DP: Should the Maiden, (yes I'm leaving her unnamed, but it's to a purpose) follow Saul? Or should stay?
Remember both ways have risk, and both ways have a high possibiltity of death.
Last edited by dinranwen on Mon Jul 03, 2006 4:29 am; edited 1 time in total
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Ravenwing
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 8:33 am Post subject: |
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Hmm, an interesting chapter. I think the unnamed maiden should follow Saul at a distance. Though it may endanger her, Saul may dangerous to those around him that he may encounter.
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 9:32 am Post subject: |
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Better to die trying to achieve happiness than have death come upon you through inaction. There's only one decision she can make. Risk it all to win it all.
Lovely development chapter Dinny. I look forward to reading the next installment.
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 1:50 pm Post subject: |
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| Go for it.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 7:21 pm Post subject: |
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| So far everyone seems to be on the same page but...the poll will be up soon, and yes I count post as votes so please post or vote!
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 11:02 pm Post subject: |
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Another nice (and long) chapter Dina.
My only complaint is the many spelling errors in it. Try and read through your story and catch them if you would, it detracts from the enjoyment (for me).
Anyway, I f5 the others. Go!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 10:22 am Post subject: |
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Is it possible that everyone here thinks alike? Well anyway, since the comments seem to be coming from the same direction, the next chapter well be posted either some time later tonight or tommorow. And don't worry...I spell check this one at least twice.
I'll keep the poll up just in case until the next chapter is ready to be put up just in case.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 7:10 pm Post subject: |
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| Everyone here seems to think along the same lines that I do, therefore...I'm going to go ahead post Chapter 3. But first I'm going off to do one last spell check. Also...be prepared for a surprised, the decision point is not what you think!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 7:36 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 3: Winter’s Cheer
As the wind caressed her cheeks, the maiden’s eyes grew strong, her chin resolute, and her shoulders became thrown back.
She would follow him, for within the few minutes of quiet competition that the knowledge struck that within her heart, she possessed the only thing that could heal Saul’s troubled mind. For the maiden now realized that she now knew the one who could heal all hurts and that only He could help her husband.
With resolute shoulders, and purpose-filled mind, the maiden departed that day with much prayer into the wilderness following the path her husband had left.
~ ~ ~
Many beasts saw Saul’s passing in those weeks of traveling to the north and shivered. Saul traveled hard and fast to the High Hills situated in the middle of the northern boundary of Enlayia. To the east and north, the northern mountains ruled with their high and icy faces, and Saul’s journeys would often allow him to view those cold tyrants for months to come.
To the north and west lied the cloven pass of the Adrian River with one high cleft forming a hard stony door to guard the pass from the dry hilly Dundee lands to Enlayians wooden country. Saul’s battles had taken him to that door, but his journeys would never again take him to those places where much blood had been shed.
To the north of the High Hills was nothing but the Grey Clefts, stony cracks in which nothing grew and nobody went except the most desperate of bandits. Yet the brooks of the Grey Clefts fed the streams of that would later form the grand and beautiful falls of the Hill Hills.
Everywhere a traveler went in north, he would see the brooks, streams, and lakes those falls gave birth to. Stone, tree, water, grass, hill, and stream surrounded the northern boundaries that gave that part of the country a kind of majestic beauty all its own. Such was the country that Saul would cross over the next few months.
As for Saul’s wife, over the next two months she would follow hard after Saul through the wilderness of the north. Yet the animals did not shudder at her passing, but rather wondered over the quietness of one who seemed to be one with the woods wherein she walked.
As a true Enlayian, the maiden had long ago learn to walk quietly amidst the woods, and to hide disappear quickly behind tree or bush at the sight, sound, or smell of the smallest danger. The wood of Enlayia was still wild then, and the men knew the importance of teaching their sons, as well as their daughters, woodcraft. One never knew what lurked behind a tree in those days, and often the difference of life and death hung on how quick one could silently disappear. Yet, even all the woodcraft she had learned at the hands of her father could not help her find Saul as time went by.
November came and with it the bullhorn of winter was sounded throughout the land. Tired and dismayed, the maiden hopelessly turned back to find the main path through the woods as the world around her slowly turned cold and unforgiving in its cruelty.
Once upon that path, all she could do would be hope and pray. Like a lost child, she uttered her cries, and though she did not know it, yet her Merciful Father above heard her cries.
The maiden weary and cold was traveling alone when the storm finally hit.
Without hope of finding a city, the steady maiden bore the winds icy blows bowing herself like a reed before the storm in a humility not her own. Yet she did not give up, nor did she cease to trust her God.
The wind tore first at her hair, then at her cloak, then at her legs and arms until she was numb all over with pain she received from each of the blows. Still she went on, then as the snow started, become so thick that she could not even hope to see through the blanket of its veil, she saw just up of her a great light. Crying in joy and thanksgiving, she rushed to the door hoping beyond hope that here at last she could find shelter from the fury of the storm to come.
As the maiden pounded on the door, she noticed a cross decorating the top of the building and knew that the Lord had led her to a church. Gladness filled her, but then a doubt struck her mind. What if this church was run by one of the cruel orders of Enlayian priest who refused to give charity to anyone but rather forced the people to work in large fields for the priest sole benefit?
Nevertheless, it is a woman who greeted her finally, not a priest.
“Oh, your poor dear,” the lady said as she wrapped her arm around The maiden as she stepped outside to greet the child, “You come in right this moment, what’s a good girl like you have any business doing out in this kind of weather anyway?”
The maiden squinted trying in vain to make out whom this woman was in the snow that now swirled around them and into the lighted doorway beyond. The woman soon had her safely inside and quickly she shut the door before more snow came into the cozy building that was filled with warmth. As the woman turned around, the maiden was able to study her clearly for the first time.
The woman’s eyes were kind, twinkling blue and laughter seemed to fill the very depths of them. Her wrinkled face was pale, but her cheeks were a merry rose that would have suited any sunny lass. Grey strands of hair fell curly out of a loose bun giving the woman the appearance of being a general laughing mess. A pair of warm wrinkled hands were soon generously wrapped around her own as she was half walked, a half pulled to towards a large hearth that stood in the back of a large stone sanctuary. As she was pulled towards the roaring flames and forced to sit on a chair the woman dragged towards the hearth, she was subject the perhaps the funniest lecture in her entire life.
“It is quiet silly for one to go out in the snow, you know,” the woman chattered as her hands firmly tucked a blanket around the maiden, "What got into your head girl? Shame on your mother, too, does not her now better than to send her daughter to town alone and with a storm coming too.
"Probably without a proper breakfast too, look at ye, skinny as a stick. What were you doing anyway, out there all alone? Shouldn’t your father have come? Instead, he sent his daughter to do his duty for him. Why of all the nincompoop ideas I have heard, that is certainly the silliest. Where are you heading anyway? To the town, I spouse, for some reason or another. Well don’t you worry dear; we will have you fixed in no time.
Nevertheless, if I ever see your father, or mother, they will never hear the end of it from me. For I highly doubt that a smart girl like of you would have come out, and this far too for shame on them!
"No deary, I do not blame you. Now you just sit here in front of the fire, Aunt Beth will soon have a hot cup of tea ready in a jiffy.”
Aunt Beth’s talk continued in a low mumble as she went out toward the front of the church carrying a small pot with her. The occasional foolish, crazy, silly, stupid, nincompoop echoed clearly throughout out the room as Aunt Beth slowly walked away with a slight limp.
The maiden smiled, Aunt Beth might have seemed overwhelming at other times, but just now after following Saul for months this lady’s cheery silly kind of talk was exactly what she needed.
Pulling the wool blanket Aunt Beth had given close to her chin; the maiden took the time to study the church where she had come.
The building was made out of stone and wood beams, like most churches in Enlayia. Small narrow windows filled with covered glass decorated two sides of the windows. The maiden now sat in the back of the large room and she slowly turned her chair so she could see the entire building while still being close to the warm flames of the fire. Old wood benches worn smooth by ages of use lined the floor with their backs to her. In the front of the church facing her was a small wood pulpit that was barely more than a small desk on a single tall leg.
In front of this crudely made pulpit was a low table. On the table was a thick open book that had been carefully placed on top of small piece of white wool.
The church was strange in so many ways that the maiden could not quiet put her finger on. The very air of the church seemed to be filled with the same warm welcome that Beth and the fire had given her.
Although the building and the benches were the same as any other church, this building was different from any she had been in her entire life. Instead of rigid backs and unwelcoming seats, each of the wood benches had been carefully covered with coarse horsehair blankets in bright colors. There were no statues, costly ornaments, or gilded pillars here, instead thick woven hangings decorated the walls in between the windows. The scenes on these hangings were also different from any other she had seen. Instead of pictures of long dead saints, powerful pastors of history, images of a praying woman who they called the Chief of the Saints and the Queen of heaven, and morbid scenes of wrath or sorrow pictured on a distant savior who seem to condemn rather than forgive; other things filled these hangings.
The first was an image of a field on a summer night, or at least the maiden thought it was summer, for there were flowers and fruits on every tree in the picture. In that field, shepherds sat near the flock there faces full of fear as the looked on a patch of brightness of no particular shape but seemed to be filled with the hazy shapes of men with harps in their hands.
The next one was a picture of a group that surrounded a man in ragged dress who stood in a body of water that came to his waist. One man in the group, looking no different from the rest of them was in the middle of stepping forward towards the man to be baptized, or so she guessed.
In the next picture, a large group of people surrounded a hill on which the man, who had been in the previous picture, taught them. Another picture on the other side of the room was of a garden tomb with the stone that served as the door rolled back and another of those shinning men sat on top of the tomb his face full of joy as he spread is arms as if in greeting to someone the viewer could not see. The last one was a golden field of wheat where several reapers were steadily working among the fields.
The maiden did not understand what each of these pictures showed, but her mind was filled with curiosity and questions concerning them. The strangest thing that hit the maiden's confused mind was the fact that the pulpit of the preacher, which was set so high and lofty in Enlayian churches, was so humble here with as much grander as the benches where people sat. No gilding traced the pulpit, any prompt, any splendor, and the maiden felt in a strange way comforted by its humility.
The parson who ran this church could not be cruel or proud with a pulpit so crude. The maiden felt herself already trusting the man who she had not yet met, and looked forward to meeting him.
Aunt Beth soon came rushing in from the front of the church from one of the small doors that stood on either side of the pulpit. In her hands, a pail of water sloshed as she crossed the floor to the fire where the maiden sat.
She tried to stand to help her, but she was soon forced to sit down as Aunt Beth poured the water in a kettle that soon began to whistle a cheery tune.
The girl sighed as she snuggled the hot cup of tea that Aunt Beth had placed in her hands, gazing at the woman who had befriended her so quickly with a kind of lazy contentment. Aunt Beth seeming to have satisfied herself with her chatter early now sat quietly in another chair right across from the young woman she had found as she slowly sipped her tea and gazed into the fire.
As they finished their tea, Aunt Beth placed her cup on the floor and looked at the maiden as she silently waited, her hands patiently folded in her lap.
“Well, my dear” the woman said simply, “Are you going to tell me about yourself or do I have to keep guessing?” Although her words might have been taken to be unkind, or even nosy, the light in her merry eyes gentled them until one could tell that although this woman would take no nonsense, she truly cared for you and meant no harm.
The maiden sighed pushing the blanket away from her chin as she placed her cup on the floor. Could she trust this woman and tell her everything? Looking once more at Aunt Beth, The maiden knew she could.
Slowly and painful the maiden told her everything, beginning when she first fell in love with Saul. Bittersweet memories filled her mind as she told the woman about her sister’s marriage to Saul and the couple’s short year together. Then as tears began to well in her eyes, she told the woman of her own marriage to Saul and exactly what that meant.
She told the woman that her name was not really Lyra, and that she was now forced to live each day as Lyra, her now deceased sister, might have. She told Aunt Beth of her desire to have children and how that wished had been denied. She told the woman of the hurt she had experience during the month of living in Saul’s house before he had rashly left in fury and madness.
She told her of Saul’s cruel words and hasty vows of revenge in his grief. She told her how she had followed the man she had loved, knowing that he would need her if he got hurt or sick along the way.
As the girl who was called Lyra, but was not the Lyra, finished her tale, Aunt Beth stood up and held out her arms to the girl. Like a bird to her nest, the maiden flew into Beth’s comforting embrace and for a long time, she stood there weeping on the woman’s shoulder as Aunt Beth murmured sweet nothings in her ears while stroking the maiden’s hair softly.
How long they stood thus the maiden did not know, but when all the tears she had held within her had been shed, the maiden stood in her arms still simply enjoying the embrace of another living human being.
“Oh, dear I understand, I understand” Aunt Beth whispered in the maiden’s ears as she cuddled her close, “How very brave of you to take your sister’s name like that. I understand, now, my deary. Aunt Beth has loved more than once, that she has, that she has. Nevertheless, the Lord, He be kind my deary, more kind than I ever could have guessed. He gave Aunt Beth joy in her old age, can He not do so and more for you? Perhaps He will cure this husband of yours who is hurt, for your arts and knowledge can no longer heal Saul. Only the Lord can do that now, and perhaps He will, who knows? All you can do is pray. I will pray too, I’ll pray for the both of you that I will.”
Aunt Beth kindly pushed the maiden away, and held her at arms length, her keen gaze taking in the girls red eyes and haggard frame. “Food will have to wait till the morning, I guess. Come now, we will get you cleaned up and into bed in no time. You need your rest more than anything now, and old Beth, well, she’s got just the cure for that.”
Taking the maiden’s hand, Aunt Beth led her to a door that stood in between the windows where there was no hanging. “The kitchen and the garden are back through that door, just over there,” She said pointing to the door where she had come from with the water pail. “My husband and I, he’s the preacher you know, leave in a small room just behind that door over there. I think I am the only woman here that has a pastor’s office instead of sitting room, but that is fine with me. This door here, now this part of the building we keep just for our guest. This used to be an Enlayian nunnery, wouldn’t you know? Now my husband, and me we saw no use on getting rid of the bedrooms back here, one never knows when you will have an unexpected guest coming. However, we are especially pleased with the bath back here.
"Apparently, whoever built this building had found a hot spring, lucky him. Well, wouldn’t you know he built a room right over it and made it his bath? It’s really quiet wonderful, not having to boil water every time you want a hot bath. Now that is just the thing to fix you. After that, we will see about getting some blankets for a bed and some nightclothes if you do not have any. It’s a shame having to wear such dirty clothes all the time, especially when one’s body has gotten all clean.”
Aunt Beth led her to a door at the end of a long hall that was lined with several small doors on either side. There at the end of the hall, Aunt Beth led her to a door that was carefully shut tight. “Wait here, while I get the lights,” Aunt Beth said as she opened the door with a key that hung on her waist. Inside there were several large bowls of what appeared to brass. After Aunt Beth had filled each bowl with several logs, she carefully lit each one with a torch that was on the wall in the hallway.
Soon the room was filled with light, and what the maiden saw there was well worth the wait. Inside the ground was made of dirt, but in the center surrounded by rough middle-sized rocks was a small pool that bounced the light of the fires in wiggly lines around the room. Large mirrors that hung on the walls in their turn reflected the light merrily until the room seemed to be filled with a bouncy golden light that flooded one soul with the pure beauty of it. A small wooden bench near the waters edge held several bars of soap, and large fluffy towels that looked to be made of pure sheepskin. Finally, there in one corner of the room stood a beautiful screen showing a scene of brightly colored birds among the clouds. It was so fine and so well made that it seemed to be from Sel-nea itself.
Aunt Beth stood in the room her face gleaming proudly as she looked from the maiden back to the pool.
“It’s beautiful,” The maiden exclaimed in a hushed voice.
“Oh, it’s nothing my dear,” Aunt Beth said modestly, “It was all left to us you know, none of it’s ours you know. Except for this,” she said stroking the bench fondly, “This, my husband made for me a long time ago to sit out the garden, as I loved to do when I was young.” A small sweet shy smile gleamed on Aunt Beth’s face as fond memories filled her mind.
The smile remained when Aunt Beth pushed the maiden into the room towards the screen, “Well, make yourself comfortable, and leave you clothes in the hallway when you’re done, no arguments now. I will not see you wearing those filthy things for one more day. I leave a nightgown out in the hallway for you that I think is just your size, if a tad bit to short. People have the habit of leaving things here, you know, and I save them just in case they ever come in handy. It’s a good thing I do too; you wouldn’t believe the ragbags I’ve brought in.”
Soon the maiden was alone, her mind still recalling from the kindness Aunt Beth had offered to her repeatedly. Strange enough, the maiden could easily imagine what other people Aunt Beth had received, and knew that they had received the same welcome as she.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, the maiden quickly slipped into the pool, carefully leaving her clothes and bag out in the hall. Then she allowed herself the luxury of soaking for a long time in the hot spring that bubbled up from underneath the ground. A nightgown in the hall was ready by the time she peaked her head out, but Aunt Beth was nowhere to be seen. Slipping the loose nightgown overhead, the maiden felt the coarse fabric scratching slightly at her skin, but she was thankful for even this poor garment, for it was warm and made with care.
Many know there is nothing quiet like slipping into a new clean garment after weeks of traveling, even if one did not have the privilege of having a steaming bath. Then again, there is nothing quiet like slipping under nice thick warm covers of a bed after being treated to a bath, and a new set of clothes, which was exactly what the maiden did now. Walking quietly through the hall, the maiden slipped into the lighted bedroom door that Aunt Beth had left open especially for her.
The bed was hard, and especially lumping near the middle but it was not five minutes after the maiden was under the covers that she was fast asleep, more content, and comfortable than she would have been even in the palace of a king. She didn’t quiet know what exactly had made her so happy or content, but last thing she remembered before she slept were the kind blue eyes of her new friend.
~~~
The maiden awoke late the next morning to find the sun already shining through the small window in her room. On a chair already clean, dry, and neatly pressed where her clothes in a neat orderly pile. The maiden stretched lazily, reluctant to leave the bed where she had slept so well. The faint smell of cooking soon cured her of aversion however, when her stomach reminded her with loud growl of its presence. With a grin, the maiden got of bed merrily humming her favorite childhood hymn.
After washing her face, the maiden quickly slipped out of her borrowed nightgown into her own clothes. A loose long sleeve off-white under dress soon found it’s way over her head, but The maiden’s hand pausing in choosing which overdress to wear. She had worn her brown short sleeve overdress for weeks of journey, and although it was more serviceable in doing messy jobs or making long journeys, the maiden was loathed to put on the dress again.
After a moment pause, the maiden put her nicer blue overdress. A hint of green embroidery traced a vine of leaves at the neck and the hem. A bluish-green girdle completed her outfit, and severed as belt. A spare piece of leather soon had her hair into the bun of a married woman of Enlayia. Blushing at little at the extravagance of the outfit, the maiden went in search of the kitchen that Aunt Beth had told her about the day before.
Her steps echoed in the sanctuary as she walked through it quickly to the door on the right hand of the pulpit. As she opened the door, the smell of frying bacon greeted her searching nose and rumbling stomach. There on the left hand side of the room stood a small wood stove, where Aunt Beth now stood her clever hands deftly handling several pans at once. A square table stood near the center of the room, and bore several items on its surface. Another rectangular table ran the length of one wall and it was surrounded with several wood chairs, one of which was carefully padded with cushions. Seeing a bowl full of the familiar sight of rising bread, the maiden soon made herself, right at home and started to knead the soft dough.
“Make them into loafs if you can my dear, it is for dinner tonight. I am sure you and my husband with both enjoy a fresh loaf of bread. Oh, and set some aside to leaven, I’m seem to be running low.” Came the soft voice of Aunt Beth, hardly pausing in her business of frying eggs, large slices of ham, and making coffee to look over her shoulders at the maiden. Aunt Beth seemed to accept the maiden’s presence in her kitchen with the ease of one who knows the presence of another cook equal to their own skill.
The maiden smiled, and began to knead the dough back and forth in a motion that soothed the maiden’s mind.
Soon the two women were working in their own quiet efficient way, hardly seeming to get in the other one’s way. Rather they seemed to smoothly pass around each other as if they were performing some intricate dance.
As breakfast finished cooking, the maiden began to clean the center preparation table while Aunt Beth set the table for two. Soon the coffee kettle gave forth a clear whistle signalizing breakfast readiness. Aunt Beth deftly dealt out the fried ham and eggs on to thick slices of bread that had been baked by the day before. Placing the pans containing the left ham and eggs on the stove, Aunt Beth poured each of them a cup of coffee before sitting down in the padded chair that sat right next the maiden’s own place.
Aunt Beth folded her hands solemnly with her head bowed and began to pray aloud. Shocked at first by this strange new tradition, the maiden hesitated before finally bowing her own head. “Heavenly Father,” Aunt Beth prayed confidently, “We thank you for this day that you have so gracefully given to us and for the food that Thou have set before us this day. Watch over Samuel, Lord, and send him home safely and quickly. Be with him, Lord, as he goes about doing Thy work. Bless also dear Lord, my new friend, and let her come to know you if she does not my Lord. Watch, I pray, over her husband, and set your healing hand over him. In our Savior and Kings name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” The maiden weakly echoed her eyes misting with tears as she heard this prayer. She had not heard anyone pray in such a long time like that for her; at least not since the Gildean priest in Ebn-dar. Clearly, in her throat, the maiden asked, “Where’s your husband, the priest, anyway?”
“Oh I don’t know, but I don’t worry about a little thing like that. The Lord is more than able to watch over my Samuel without me worry over him. He went out a few days ago to talk to an older couple nearby, and to help them prepare for the storm. He said he would be back this morning, so I trust he will be. Besides it not like him to be late for breakfast, nor to let his eggs grow cold.”
As if Beth’s words had summoned it, a loud voice began to ring throughout the church followed by a distant shutting of a door.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me…” sang the voice slightly off tune as it grew steadily louder while footsteps rung loudly as someone crossed the sanctuary. A ruddy face soon popped came through the doorway and a cheery old man half skipped, half walked into the room. “I hope you have breakfast ready and, wife of mine, or my stomach going to talk to you.”
The man said teasingly his voice sprinkled with laughter, as he stood with his hands on hips in mock anger in front of the door that now swung back and forth with his passing. A wrinkled old face was filled with laughter and joy as he peered lovingly at his wife. No beard grew on the craggy old face, but rather he was shaven like a man of Gilead. Thick gray eyebrows showed two gentle brown eyes, and a wide smile spread across his face nearly from ear to ear. As he removed his large hat, Samuel revealed a baldhead surrounded by short clearly gray hair on each side of his head.
“It will teach you not to be late for meals if you find it not so, husband mine.” Beth teased sternly, not rising from where she sat.
“What no hug, my love?” the man said his voice filled with a mocking hurt.
“If a man’s first words are for his stomach not for his wife, why should I greet him?” Aunt Beth now standing near her chair at the table. “I’ll not greet you with open arms in response to your greeting.”
“What if I chased you?” he said as he intimately stepped forward, his growing wider by the minute.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Aunt Beth exclaimed her eyes growing wide as she took a step backwards.
“Would I not?” he said taking another step forward.
“Samuel, behave yourself!” she exclaimed wagging a stern finger at her husband, “Can’t you see we have a guest?”
“That I do, and beautiful one at that.” Samuel said turning his attention to the mysterious young girl. “Good day my lady,” he said nodding his hoary head at her. “I am sorry we haven’t had a chance to properly meet as yet, but I’ll promise to do that after I have greeted my wife. Would you mind very much if I chased my wife around the room? I probably even kiss her after I catch her,” he said while waggling his eyebrows suggestively at his wife.
“Not at all, please proceed.” The maiden said with a small grin.
Aunt Beth looked at the girl in dismay, but then squealed as her husband began to do just what he said, chase his wife merrily around the room. The maiden sipped at her coffee as she tried very hard not to laugh at the old couple that was dashing around the room. Samuel finally did catch his wife, and proceeded to breathlessly kiss her while wrapping her close in a rib crunching close. Beth did not object much to his affection, but only playful slapped him before letting go to fix his plate.
‘So this is what is like to be in love? I wonder if I could ever have a marriage like theirs.’ The maiden thought to herself as Aunt Beth came blushing back to the table bearing a loaded plate for her husband. As soon as Samuel finished, he leaned back from the table with a contented sigh and turned his gaze to his young guest who know busied herself about the room with cleaning the kitchen.
“Come sit down, little one,” Samuel said his deep rich voice dripping sweetly. The maiden hesitated amidst her work looking from the mess to her hostess and back.
“Go on,” said Beth, giving her a little push towards the table. “You’re too pretty to soil. Go ahead and sit down. Talk to my husband for a while, I’ll handle the mess.”
“Yes, Aunt Beth,” The maiden sighed as she sent a smile over her shoulder at the kind old woman.
Samuel reached into his coat pockets brought a small creased Bible that was full of cracks and tears, the marks of a book, which had seen plenty of use. The simple careworn Bible was clearly precious to the man has he handled it tenderly and carefully as he placed on the clear spot before his plate.
The maiden sat down her hands folded in her lap as she waited expectantly for what the man had to say.
“When I find myself looking for a place to start, I always found that giving my name always helps,” Samuel said looking at the maiden his head cocking from side to side, as he studied the girl carefully. “My name is Samuel, what’s yours?” he said as he extended on callused hand in her direction.
“I have taken the name of my sister and become her husband’s wife. I am called Lyra now,” The maiden said hesitantly taking the hand the man had offered. His hands were large and warm as the seemed to wrap her own small hand completed in a gentle but firm in embrace.
“So Lyra is not your name?” he said looking at her curiously a thousand questions filling his eyes.
“It is what I am called now, yes. I have no other.” The maiden was confused. Surely this man knew of the Enlayian tradition? “Perhaps Aunt Beth can explain it better than I can later.”
The old man laughed at this shaking his baldhead back and forth. “She told you to call her that didn’t she? Does not surprise me in the least! I’ll ask her later then.” Samuel once again looking in the maiden’s eyes. His brown eyes were filled with a clear concern for her, although he did not know her or anything about her, yet there was a joy there also that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him.
“So, how did she find you, beautiful lady?”
“I pulled in from the storm last night wearing the thinnest cloak I’ve ever seen. Why I could have sworn that I saw the daylight coming right through it!” Aunt Beth put in as she stood at the counter drying a pot. “She’ll told all about herself Samuel, I’ll tell you about it later. I do not think the lady will want to drag those skeletons from her closet again. No best leave the question of where, how, and what for me later.”
The maiden looked down her eyes briefly mirror shame and grief that hid within the recess of her very soul. “It’s true; I do not wish to tell that story again. It is still to close to me as yet. Perhaps one day I will laugh at that but right now, the tears are right there waiting for me to shed them. Yet one most keep there eyes on the brighter side of things, I spouse there is no use for looking gloomy. I simply just cannot let myself dwell on those sad things. I’ve somehow got to find the strength and courage to go on; for I know somewhere out there someone might need me perhaps at this very moment.”
She paused, her eyes shinning with a new purpose, “I can tell you this much, dear sir, that I am a women who is looking for her husband who is so very lost in more ways than one. I also intend on leaving here as soon as possible to go in search for him. Don’t get me wrong,” she said as looked between Samuel and Beth anxiously, “I’ve enjoyed your kindness, very much so, and I am grateful for each of you because you have received me so kindly, but I simply must find my husband.”
“No harm meant my lady,” Samuel said calmly as he looked at her from where he was seated. “But you are not going anywhere today, and probably won’t leave here until a long time from now. The snow is almost waist high as a man walks out there and in some places, it is deeper. I had to practically shovel my whole way, which by the way is why I was late. There is no use in losing yourself in hopes of finding your husband out there. No we will simply have to watch, pray, and wait until the snow thaws. Until that time, you are welcome here as long as you need to be here.
Nevertheless, I have something else that I need to speak to you about.”
Samuel paused his wrinkled hands tenderly caressing the edges of the Bible before him. Samuel looked up his eyes full of tears and concern that the maiden knew was for her and for her alone. With that glance, the maiden felt herself pierced clean through as if her very heart was being turned over for careful examination with very glance. That glance also seemed to in her wounds, her hurts, her red eyes, her lean frame, and her hungry wounded heart.
“I am preacher of God’s word my child, and I must do the Lord’s work. I must ask you a simple question, Do you know the Lord as your savior, child?” Samuel eyes seem to fill themselves with a hurt all their own as he eagerly awaited the maiden’s answer.
“Is that all?” The maiden laughing asked, “I thought you were going to ask me for a confession or to tell you what sin I had done to deserve the trials I’ve suffered. It would have been just like a priest to ask that. My dear Samuel, what a blessing it is to hear that blessed question again. You’re from Gilead aren’t you?”
With Samuel’s confused nod, the maiden once again laughed her voice lifted with exaltation. “The Lord is indeed gracious. Instead of leading me to slaughters our priests have become, He has sent me to a true minister of his word.”
“Yes that explains a lot, including those hangings in your sanctuary. It has just been so long since I have seen there like that I just plan forgotten what they were. It also explains the welcome I have received instead of work and the accusations I expected. You simply must forgive my dear Samuel; I am simply just overwhelmed by the graciousness of the Lord to his lowly child. However, it has been so long since I have heard anything from His word that I fear I have forgotten everything I had been taught.
"To answer your question my precious priest-friend, I learned of the Lord from a Gilead priest when I was very young. I have forgotten what is like to have kindness instead of cruelty from the hands of the priest. What it is like to have the sweet fruit of the gospel truth preached instead being handed the foul rotten things I have been handed by others. Yes, I know the Lord although I fear I am far away from Him, but I am His child. If you will tell me more about this Lord of yours in Gilead, I will gladly listen. For I have learned to confess like a woman long ago, ‘for the LORD your God, he is God in heaven above, and in earth beneath.’ ”
“Joshua 2, the last part of verse 11.” Samuel murmured as his voice filling with exultation. “Praise the Lord that He led you here, never again will I say that the Lord abandons his children or forsake those who desire to learn of Him. Teach you about the Lord, gladly my child! My wife and I always hold a service on Sundays even if there are no others who come. Your are welcome to join us if you wish.”
“Yes!” The maiden said jumping up to wrap her arms around this wonderful man of God. “But can’t we start now?” came the pleading questions as she looked at Samuel and his Bible with hungry eyes.
“Certainly, my daughter. Keep in mind that we cannot stay in here all day; there is work to be done around here, even if we are kept inside by the heavy snow. Nevertheless, I am willing to teach you an hour each day after breakfast if I am able to. Would be willing to do that?”
“Most certainly, I am willing to listen to you at midnight if that was the only time you can spare. When can we start?”
Chuckling a little at the girl’s eagerness, Samuel opened his Bible. “Why not now? Where did you wish to start?”
“In the beginning,” The maiden said leaning back her eyes slowly shutting as she focused her whole attention on what this man of God had to say.
Samuel raised his eyebrows a little at this, but opened his Bible to Genesis 1:1 and began to read, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.”
The next hour passed with little eruption from the maiden, except for an occasional question or a request for Samuel to repeat a particularly important or unclear verse.
In the end, both the maiden and Samuel found themselves hard pressed to stop until Aunt Beth gave them a gentle reminder of work to be done. Smiling wryly at Samuel, The maiden obediently went and changed into her brown over dress before returning to help Beth in her daily chores around the church.
The rest of the day, The maiden found herself humming the same tune Samuel had sung as he entered, not slowly or mournfully but in a kind of exaltation and joy that had bubbled into her soul as she as found that Samuel. These were the words of the first line of the song she sang that day:
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood, From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure, Save form wrath and make me pure.
(Written by Augustus M. Toplady, and Composed by Thomas Hastings)
~~~
The maiden spent the rest of the winter in that small church. Each morning the maiden began her days in prayer and reading in God’s word. The rest of the day, the maiden helped Aunt Beth readily, eagerly listening for any words of wisdom Aunt Beth might utter.
Often she would dust their study while Samuel read his worn Bible aloud pretending that he was doing it for his sake and not hers. Gradually, the maiden learned to stop worrying about Saul and simply trusted the Lord take care of her husband during the long harsh winter.
As wonderful and as harsh as winter can be, it must end eventually. As time went on, the snow slowly began to melt, the air began to warm, and first signs of spring appeared. The maiden watched the approach of spring with regret for she knew that she must soon leave the loving couple who had become like grandparents to her.
Early that March, when the roads were almost completely clear of snow and relatively free of mud, the maiden, and Aunt Beth made there way to town. Aunt Beth needed several things from the local market for the kitchen larder, and The maiden hoped that her meager coin could supply what she would need to start of on her own again. The maiden knew that it would almost be impossible to track Saul now, but she had to at least try.
Around noon that day, The maiden was carefully examining a vendors supply of dried pork while Aunt Beth was in a Thatcher’s shop talking to him about the a leak in the churches roof.
Unsatisfied with the vendor’s wares and hefty prices, the maiden turned around to look at another cart nearby when she stopped completely in her tracks. Gasping a little, the maiden quickly went around to the other side of the chart and carefully peered out between the hanging meats this vendor had display. Across the street and a few carts away, Saul stood with his back toward her as he examined the daggers of stern looking blacksmith.
Her heart thumped loudly as she watched Saul walk away with a long blade, hoping that her husband had not seen her. It appeared that he had not for he walked briskly away from the black smithy without glancing in either direction. Casting a worried glance toward the shop where Aunt Beth was still busy, the maiden quickly tries to follow Saul. She would at least find out if Saul was staying in town, or find out which direction was headed. If she knew which direction Saul was going, the maiden had a better chance of hitting his tracks than picking a random direction.
The maiden was bustled, and bounced about as she tried desperately to keep up with Saul through the thick crowd. Soon though Saul was, leaving the main road and heading down a small allay that was lined with houses on either side. Breathing in relief to escape the press of the market, the maiden cautiously slipped several houses behind Saul as she could now see him clearly through the few people that traveled up and down this small narrow lane.
Slowly the sounds of the market faded, and the maiden followed Saul through many twist and turns until finally Saul entered a large building that appeared to be an inn. Glancing at the sign from across street, the maiden saw a large picture of pine tree with three crowns around its branches. Below the picture, the sign read proclaimed it’s name in common script, Gildean script, and Enlayian script. Looking past the other scripts the maiden did not speak or read, she glanced at the tall many branched letters that made up Enlayian script, “The Crowned Pine,” the sign read.
Slipping back the way she had come, the maiden made carefully not, of what streets she had to pass to get to this hotel and in what direction of the city did it lay. Once or twice, the maiden had to rely on others to give directions as she made her slow careful way back to the market. In a time entirely to short for her liking, the maiden found herself back within the crowded streets of the market place. Cringing at her rudeness for leaving Aunt Beth, The maiden hurriedly went back to the Thatcher’s shop hoping Aunt Beth would understand why she had left her behind.
Aunt Beth was sitting on a barrel outside the small shop when the maiden finally found her. “Good gracious my child! Think of scaring me like that,” Aunt Beth exclaimed as she caught sight of her young friend. “Where in the world did you go in such a hurry?”
The maiden quickly looked around and shook her head, “I’ll explain later, there are too many people to talk here. I’m almost done here, are you?”
Aunt Beth squinted one eye keenly at the girl, but let the issue drop. “I have a few more grocery items I need, but if you are going in the same direction I’d very much enjoy your company a little while longer.”
The maiden nodded and hoped that Saul would not come to the market again that day. The last thing she wanted was for Saul to see her especially with him not knowing about her following his footsteps over the past few months.
The rest of the shopping day was spent in silence as the two women hurriedly finished their shopping. It was not until they were on the small wooden path that led to the church until Aunt Beth finally asked where the maiden had been during her absence. Breathlessly, the maiden told Aunt Beth about seeing Saul, and the inn he was staying at.
“Are you sure it was him?” Aunt Beth said a secret light glinting in her eyes. With The maiden’s nod, she continued, “You’ll be wanting to leave soon I spouse? I love having ye here deary, but I will not lie to you. My heart is against you following this man against his will. It bodes no good to seeing him buy weapons in the market. Let me give you some advise my child: Either stay here or go home. You can’t do anything but starve by following him.’
The maiden stopped in her tracks looking in dismay at the older woman, “But I have to follow him! I don’t really have a choice, not now anyway.”
“Why?” Aunt Beth said simply turning to face the maiden both hands placed on her hips.
“Because…,” The maiden sighed, “There’s really no delicate way to put this is there?” The maiden paused looking upwards as she tried stop tears coming to eyes, “You already know that I have become my sister by my own will and by the vows I swore on my wedding day. There is a part of the vow that I have not told you of yet. I hoped I never would have told you. It is hard to understand, even I cannot understand this, and I am Enlayian. My sister is dead, that is a fact that I know very well. Yet if a priest heard me say that, I could be punished severally. To the priest eyes, and everyone else’s for that matter, I am Lyra. Nothing can change that.
"As far as they are concerned, there was only one daughter born to Bochim and his wife Mara, and her name was Lyra. The girl I was no longer exists to them because she never was. Still, the maiden is dead and her bones will probably never be found by any man. Even the church cannot change the fact of death.”
The maiden paused breathing deeply from sorrow and fury. “A long time ago, they made a provision that as long as the husband of deceased was alive, the deceased would be considered alive also through the woman who took her name. As soon as he died, the woman would be released from her vow. However, when she took her vow her name was struck off from every list, and she was considered as one who died at childbirth or one who had never been. The new provision did not change that, nor did it make her a provision to retake her name. Our lawmakers never change the law, nor did they ever make that provision.”
“Time passed, and no one ever did change the law. It has now become a tradition long held that when her husband dies, the woman will be released from her vow and she will no longer be her sister, but she will also never be able to be herself either. The woman had taken a vow that she was her sister, and that she no longer exist.
"The church, therefore, did not want the woman to break her vows by taking her name again. The fact that when her husband died, her sister was once again considered dead did not sway the churches mind. The woman would now be considered as one dead. For if she was considered to be sister while her husband was alive, why could she not consider being her dead sister when her husband had died.”
“
If my husband dies,” the maiden continued biting her lip briefly as tears started to drip down her cheeks, “I will be less than nothing. Worse still, though I may live for 50 years after he dies, everyone must view me as dead. I will not be able to buy, or sell, or speak to anyone. If I speak, no one will listen. If I enter a room, it will be as if I was not there. My own family will not be able to greet me, recognize me, or help me. If they do, they also will be considered dead, and the church will throw them out its doors forever. No, I cannot let my husband die, nor can I cease to follow him in hopes that I may be able to help him live if is wounded or sick.”
“How terribly, terribly cruel!” Aunt Beth exclaimed stomping one of her booted feet. “They can not do that, can they?”
“They can and they will.” The maiden said unemotionally her voice stale with disgust with the church she had been forced to attend for so long.
“Well, I understand now.” Aunt Beth said once again striding off at a brisk pace, “You’ll want to leave first thing tomorrow I guess. The best thing for you to do is to camp near the gate where he will likely leave. Probably the north gate, from what you told me. It will be easier to follow that way, and you will not have to depend so much on the chance of finding his tracks among all the others that exit the cities gates. Come now, Aunt Beth will help get ready.”
~~~
The next day, the maiden headed toward town with a pack far heavier than she expected it to be. Aunt Beth and Samuel had sent her away with more things than she could ever repay them for. Their parting had been filled with tears, but not with sorrow.
“You come back here if you are in any trouble, no matter what!” Samuel had said as he pushed an extra piece of bread into her hands for her to eat at midday. “I am not of the Enlayian church, nor of any other church that refuses it own. I am the Lord’s man and I will serve His children.”
Aunt Beth had also given her careful directions to houses of the people who secretly came to the church around the area. “The people are poor,” Aunt Beth warned, “and they cannot give you much. But they’ll provide a roof over your head if you have need.” Aunt Beth had also taught her the words to say to these people so they would know it had been Samuel and Beth who had sent this strange girl to their doorstep and not the Enlayian church spies.
As the sun turned everything into a world filled with vibrant colors and smells, the city of High Hills opened it’s gates with the sound of a trumpet and the unfurling of a flag depicting the hills just above where they town sat. The tall rocky hills were truly tall but their tops were flat and rounded by ages of wind. The proud stony knolls that the Enlayian called hills would have are called mountains by anybody farther south. Yet anyone who lived near the Northern Mountain Chain had to right to call all other mountains, hills if they wished.
The Northern Mountains were so tall, and so sharp faced that only the cloven feet of goats could only climb the very bottoms of these unyielding guardians of the northern reaches. One mountain just went straight up without even a crack in its sheer surface for miles above the trees and their snow covered tops stood high above the clouds.
Yet it was from the hills that glorious falls rushed forth every spring when the thaw came. The falls would come breaking through around the late days of March breaking the last barrier of ice that stood in the way of the icy courses.
The first fall was indeed a sight to see, and it had been this event that her now dead sister had wished to view when she was seven months pregnant. Her child would have been 10 months old now, if she had lived, the maiden thought as she sat watch the people going in and out of the gate from where she sat on a hill under a low-branched holly.
Saul left the city about noon leaving the main road as soon as he was able to leave the press of the gate. The maiden picked up her pack and the remains of her lunch, and began to follow her beloved husband once again. She followed Saul without him knowing, and he soon led their paths to the falls, which would be born soon as the month of March wore on.
We must leave Saul now, and travel back to Enlayia and further back in time, where we must travel to find someone whom, dear reader did not expect to meet, at least not meet again. We must go back, far back, before the time Simeon left Enlayia and before Saul lost all. Slipping behind the curtains, we must again travel across the lands to...
*DP...okay intermission time: To where or to whom does our story take us?
Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:47 pm; edited 8 times in total
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2006 3:51 am Post subject: |
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I guess the obvious answer is to tell some of LYra's original tale. What brought her to the point where she died, was her marriage to Saul all that he now remembers it to be, or were there dark secrets hidden in the past?
Anyway, that's all I can come up wtih on this DP. 'Tis a hard one.
I very much like the tale you're weaving here, Dinranwen, but the spell/grammar checking is getting a bit sloppy. I'd recommend both running the new chapters through the Word checks, and reading them through two or three times before you post. I'm not the most finicky person on the site for typos and the like, so if I've noticed it, there may well be a few other readers who are tearing their hair out already 
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Thu Jun 29, 2006 5:39 am Post subject: |
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You have some very nice imagery going in this chapter GG, I like it.
It seems you have run this one through a spelling checker, which makes it better, but still work to do. A few of the points I picked up on for example...
| Quote: | Tired and dismayed, the maiden hopelessly turned back to find the main path through the woods as the world around her slowly turned cold and unforgiving in its cruelty.
Once .... cries.
The maiden weary and cold was traveling alone when it hit.
Without hope of finding a city, the steady maiden bore the winds icy blows bowing herself like a reed before the storm in a humility not her own. Yet she did not give up, nor did she cease to trust her God.... |
Rather a lot of uses of the word 'maiden' here, and later on as well. Try to find a few different words instead of it, use her name even, or 'she' more.
| Quote: | | Grey strands of hair fell curly out of a lose bun giving the woman the appearance of being a general laughing mess. A pair of warm wrinkled hands were soon generously wrapped around her own as she was half walked, a half pulled to towards a large hearth that stood in the back of a large stone sanctuary |
Spellchecks won't spot words like these, which are incorrect in this context, so don't forget to watch for these too.
| Quote: | | does not her now better than to send her daughter to town alone |
Muddled.
A plot thing here: It seems the children are taught woodcraft maybe, but not to bring warm clothes out with them in winter? Seems a bit, how can I put this? Silly. Would have been better if she lost her supplies in some accident or something. (Dunno what though).
Now, as for the DP, I totally f5 the Stoat. It has to be Lyra's tale, and who knows? Maybe she isn't dead after all, just for that twist. 
Keep working on this one, I like it, but again, you need to check your work more.
_________________
Neil Hartley Books.
My Amazon page.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jun 30, 2006 2:04 pm Post subject: |
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*Blushes* Sorry for the slobby spelling my word check doesn't pick up alot of my mistakes, and I guess that doing a read over at midnight isn't the best thing for the story. I'll read over the last 2 chapters a few more times, do the corrections if I can find them, and read through my next chapters five times just in case I use them. Reading through my story a couple more times should prevent more simple mistakes like the ones here.
Oh as for the 'maiden', I am trying to avoid naming here, because technically her name is Lyra now, but that was her younger sister's name. I thought that calling the 'maiden', Lyra, things could be a bit confusing. However, point taken, I will try to vary the name use a bit more.
As for the DP, I thought you would like it...and your right isn't what exactly what it seems. The next chapters as I orginally planned them will call to question everything you thought was true in the story. But great discussion so far, keep those comments coming.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 7:47 am Post subject: |
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I like this story. You have a lot of good description and character development, and you're making progress on the spelling. Spell checkers don't find errors that are real words, but not the word you meant (like spouse for suppose, or quiet for quite). A grammar checker might find some of those, but don't take everything a grammar checker says as true - I understand they have a very simplistic approach to grammar.
I voted for looking for Lyra. I think she's not really dead, and don't know why he didn't check that out before! I suppose he just wasn't thinking clearly.
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Starwalker
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| Posted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 8:17 am Post subject: |
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| I enjoyed reading the new chapter. I don't have anything to add right now to what has been said already.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Jul 03, 2006 4:43 am Post subject: |
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This story has been spell check by the author twice, and the author hopes that she has found all the errors in the story. Some minor changes have also been made in the wording and the story itself.
The author hopes that by making these changes not only has she improved the grammer, the spelling, but also has enhanced the story and made it easier to read. If the author has missed anything in the story please tell her as soon as possible so she can make the approiate changes.
This story will hopefully be moved with a moderators permission to the main story forum. In with great expectation that the author antispates the apperance of this storygame in the main forum. Please look for this story, Tear Strung Lyre, in the fanstasy section of our wonderful city. ~ moderated
P.S. The next chapter will posted as soon as possible. It might take a little longer to write than previous chapters do to the fact that the vote results were different than the orginal story that was produced by the author before she moved to the City of If.
Thank you for your comments, advice, encouragement, and corrections.
Your Humble Servant,
Dinranwen
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 6:51 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 4: What Happened before, will be posted before this time Friday, so watch this post! I apolgize for have waited so long, I was hoping that by transfering this post to the main fantasy board, I would generate more interest, and thus more and different opions. However, majority rules, and although I was saving it for later, I have a surprise, that y'all can probably guess.
Drum roll please
*Big dramatic pause with complete silence and no drums sounding*
I said drum roll please.
*A tringale sounds*
Good enough! Lyra is indeed alive, but unlike some of you think this will not remain Lyra or Saul's story for long. But the next chapter will definatly take us to her, but not in the way you expect and definetly not where you expect.
The explanation of why this will be could perhaps be found in a little something I have written called, 'why I titled this story Tear Stung Lyre'. It's a mytophorical-nonsense-mobo-jumbo-poem-sort-of-thingy that would probably/definatly be included later in this story, but y'all will have to ask for it if you want it. *Waits for reponse on the trap, no bait, no wait that's not right, Extra tidbit thats it. And for millions of people to pound on this posting asking for the poem-sort-of-thing*
Until then, or until the next chapter, this has been me, Dinranwen.
Your not so humble, yes I know I'm toturing you, servant.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 8:07 pm Post subject: |
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To help you understand the world and countries where this story is taking place, I will be placing two pictures in my personal gallery. They will be very very rough drafts of the final picture, but I hope that with them, you will understand Mian, the world where this story takes place, and Enlayia better.
So far I have the first draft of the world Map of Mian posted in my personal gallery. It's not very good, and definetly not final. But it serves its purpose in giving you I general idea of Mian.
I will also be posting a detailed as possible map of Enlayia, so that you will know where I am talking about as I continue in this story and trust me, you will need it.
But I like said, both pictures will be probably be rough and will be update as I continue with this story and hopefully others.
Well anyway, the world map of Mian is up. Here's something you should know to help with the map, Dendraen, is the land of the Dundee men.
~ ~ ~
You will notice that there is a door to If on the map, this may be useful as I am considering selling realastate in the world of Mian.
*Shamless Advertizing please skip unless your a serious buyers:
For those of you who will be interested in that sort of thing, I would be willing to send you I describition of whatever country you like. Each of the country's except Fandor and No man's Land, comes complete with culture, history, and geograph in place. As much detail as you want, for a price, because of course the more detail I would include, the more I would charge. I would even be willing to create up to 2 characters from your perfered country. However, I would have to insist that you maintain the orginal intergity of the country as I would own all rights in the World of Mian.
**Now for the rest of you, do you think this would be a good buisness idea? If not, oh well, it was just a thought.
~ ~ ~
Well anyway, the world map is up in my personal gallery if your interested in seeing it, and I will tell you when the map of Enlayia is up as soon as I post it.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 8:30 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 4: In times past, Shadows walk
Slipping behind the curtains, we must again travel across the lands past the river of Andoria, fat beyond the forest wall into to the northwest of Enlayia just south of a place called the Wall to the town that would become to be known as Liberia. Liberia is a beautiful place, cleverly hidden within the recess of the hills, and careful built amidst the trees of the forest. The builders of Liberia were perhaps a different kind of man than their fellow countrymen, for unlike them the people of Liberia were lovers of trees, books, and knowledge.
Love of books combined with obsession with knowledge in what would soon come to be known as the Library of Liberia, a large building that would foster the building of the only University of Enlayia. However, those things are still future, and the library was still kept in several buildings, it vast amount of volumes still awaiting the large building even now under construction that would be their home.
As lover of trees, the people of Liberia would build the most beautiful city outside Sel-nea. This was because instead of clearing the trees from the area that would become their city, the builders of Liberia built around the trees, leaving whole areas of careful landscaped parks. Buildings where often built around, in between, and even in large trees. Large natural clearings held whole pockets of the town, so instead of a city one thought that Liberia was simply a cluster of small villages spread out for many miles in between large trees.
As for the road, paths lined the forest floor, but the only truly connected path that could reach the whole city was the trees themselves. Ropes, careful built ladders, and various types of bridges decorated the tops of trees creating the Tree Road, as it was called. It was truly was majestic, beautiful, and almost magical a place.
Yet the people of Liberia were the kinsman of their fellow Enlayians despite their differences and were not without there on faults. The people who settled in the place of Liberia where descendants of what could be called the noble class of Enlayia and within them, they bore every fault one could ever find in nobility. The people of Liberia were high minded, proud, hypocrites, and vain.
The nobility of Liberia was even worse than the lower born of the town, if such a thing was possible. The nobles of Liberia were master politicians, and they only possessed over half the seats in the Hall, the counsel that ran the country of Enlayia. Proud, arrogant, greedy, and cruel many of the nobles led double lives. A few were even know criminals living obvious lives of sin even the faces of the people who could not care. Only a handful of people dared resist their higher born nobility and their accompanying sins, and for that, that handful was persecuted severely. To make matters worse, the nobility of Liberia had their hands within the church, and within a few years, they would become the church.
Thus the corrupt nobility of Liberia, not content with knowledge, not content with beauty, not content with governmental power, would become the church and take the spiritual fate of their countrymen into their slimy filthy paws.
It is to such a place that we go. There within the midst of the city, a magnificent structure was built occupying a space so large, that eight trees were confined within its walls. The building was beautiful sculptured with great frescos carved within its plasters walls depicting tantalizing nymphs, dryads, naiads, and the native landscape of the area. Great open windows were covered with intricate lattices that were said to come from the Syrian, the last that had been delivered before Syrian had become impossible to find, before it even received the name of the Lost Isle.
The building was a blatant display of wealth and prompts and only barely exiled the pretentiousness of the owner. It was the home of Eros, the governor of Liberia, the possessor of the second seat of the Hall, and he was the secret power behind the Bishop Cadis, one of the most powerful men of the Enlayian priesthood.
Slipping past the mute eunuchs that make up Eros’ guard, we enter the courtyard, where Eros sits amidst silken cushions and dines upon extravagant dainties.
In the gate of the courtyard two hardened men eye everything surrounding them like sharp-eyed hawks as the carelessly fiddle with bared swords. Rough and unshaven they barely look like gentlemen, guards, or even men you would trust to be around you except in heavy chains and guarded. Yet Eros seems comfortable with these rough men for several other sit as his table beady-eyed men who eye everything with suspicion and a desperation that comes when one has experience absolute poverty and hunger.
Eros is a good-looking man in his way, and was proud of his looks, which had brought compliments from many a mistress. Striking brown eyes filled with pride, gluttony and greed, surveyed his court as slight smirk play on his thin lips. A sharp, pointed, but well turned nose pointed vividly out of his face making his eyes even more sharp and cruel. His pale sculptured face had only one fault, that of a puckered scar across the left of his cheek leaving for his face for the most part unmarked.
Eros owned all these hard-eyed men, and women, for he was indeed their familiar, their leader, and captain. Eros sits in the midst of theses hard desperate thieves, enthroned upon cushions as several scantly dressed maidens feed him dainties with their hands.
Several other maidens less favored surround Eros couch seated like hungry, neglected, abused dogs awaiting the master’s word, gesture, glance, or bread to be cast their way. Many other women their own eyes desperate as the men, sat on many of the men's laps as if they were merely ornaments for display, pets obedient to their masters wishes.
A kind of devotion shined in the men’s eyes as they looked at Eros, their master, their leader, and yet their brother, and fellow man, just as a kind of love shun in the eyes of the women as they gazed at the men whom the served. Yet just from a glance, you knew that each of the men would kill each other and even Eros without even so much as a blink, and the women would also.
The men were bandits, desperate men of whom Eros himself was the leader.
Past the hall where Eros was feeding, we slip down the right hallway going down for a while to where a broad arched door stands. The door was really no more than lattice, carefully carved with loops and whirls so beautifully that it was impossible to take the whole thing at once, but rather one has to look at one section at a time only to find the it’s section was as complicated and as beautiful in it’s own way. The door had been imported from the Searchen islands where it been carved from a rare and ancient wood. A Sel-nain most of made the work for although it was full of crevices not a single glimpse of the room behind it.
Inside cushions and rugs are thrown callously about upon the floor. Perfume from smoking candles and burning oils fills the room with a delicious yet intoxicating scent. All this made the sleeping rooms of the harem of Eros De Barear and its extravagance only hinted at the wealth that was invested in each exquisite woman that inhabited. Although the room was filled with light, the room was hazy with smoke, perfume, and only one window was open to let in fresh air and sunlight.
In the streaming light and breeze, one woman sits breathing deeply clearly enjoying the fresh air as lent her head out the window. Her long brown eyelashes brushed her cheek as she closed her eyes briefly as she filled her lungs deeply. Long straight light brown hair with glints with red caresses her cheek as the wind slowly toys with her hair making the haze behind her stream and twirl. Yellowish-green eyes as bright as the sun on a leaf are revealed as her eyes suddenly open with a snap. Turning around, she saw the reason she had been disturbed, and in her turning we can now see her full face and recognize her as the beautiful long lost Lyra.
An olive skinned man with angled eyes stood in the door way his legs akimbo as he callously held a squirming child of two years old. At the woman’s nod, the man strode callously in ignoring the scent and the appearance of the room. The man was tall, well muscled, and seemly as with all Eros’ servants. His barreled chest was bare and he wore the loose fitting tan trousers and red belt. Two large hoop earrings dangled from his ear, and the child he carried was trying very loudly to grab the glittery objects. On the man’s left arm, he bore a single tattoo the wrapped completely around bicep. The tattoo was singular in nature being a mixture of Enlayian and Common script bond together by an intricate braid. Such a mark was seen nowhere else except on Eros’s servants, for it was Eros’ signature of ownership, something which only slave owners were known to posses.
The man’s name, the woman did not know, but she knew his face. He was the Harem Master, being distinctly qualified as both a mute and eunuch, not to mention a Sel-nain peasant. As a Sel-nain, such a man could no better then slavery in the fields of the Turuch, the Sel-nain King, or working till his death in some other field for another lesser lord. Therefore being raised in a culture where slavery was such a common thing for the poor, he could not have hoped for a better position than a harem master and as such, he was grateful. This gratefulness made the man loyal, if not exactly obedient, to his master.
Lyra smiled at the man as she took the chattering child, as the boy started to babble nonsense as many his age do. Lyra smiled softly at the slightly fussy child, and gestured the harem master away with a wave of a hand.
Being Eros’ favorite among other things, bought her a few precious hours with her son, and those hours although bought dear were worth every second. Such rare gems of time, Lyra thought, were not to be wasted in the sharing of them with any others, at least not with a stranger who only helped in your imprisonment.
Whispering in the child’s ear, Lyra once again resumed her seat in the window, pulling the boy tight. The boy who was Saul’s son gave no objection to this cuddling as most his age might have, for although only the tender age of two, he to understood that the times with his mother were both few and precious.
Stroking the boy’s hair, Lyra began to softly sing a lullaby, which her mother had sung, a melody that haunted her still, even within the walls of the prison chamber. Closing her eyes, she and her child let the enchantment of the words sweep over them and take them to a place far away from there present dwelling and father away than they ever had been.
“Hush my child, for far away in dark deeps wood are hiding.
Stories dear, they linger there and in the trees, they are sleeping,” high and sweet came Lyra’s voice rich with the magic and emotion which thrilled her very soul with a longing, a deep and ever burning longing. Pausing briefly, tears gather in the corners of eyes as she continued her haunting melody.
“Hush, my babe, and I will tell, one so sweet that makes things well,
Hush my child and I will sing, of a maiden and a king…” The song hanged in the air with a sense of incompletion, the feeling of tale not quite complete, but Lyra did not stop without a cause, for a the door had slammed open with a great resounding echo and within the door stood the figure of a man not in a pleasant mood. Looking towards the door, Lyra saw the one man whom she hated the most but was forced to pretend to love, Eros.
Eros strode over to where Lyra was sitting, growling as he stopped only two paces from where she sat. Instinctively Lyra and her son clung tighter to each other; waiting for the storm, they knew was coming.
“I thought I told you to sing no more to the boy,” Eros growled. “You will make a coward with all this nonsense of faerie tales and lullabies. And no son of mine will ever be a coward.”
“Perhaps,” Lyra said sagely as she glared at Eros with all her might, “it is a good thing that this child is not thy son, but mine and I shall do as I please with him.”
Eros’ face briefly flamed red as fury and rage played across his well-sculptured features, but then with a slight quirk showing on the left corner of his moth, Eros threw his head back and laughed. “I knew there was a reason, I let thee keep thy tongue besides thy beautiful voice. How you do make me to laugh! Come I will forgive thee if only you promise me to sing a lullaby to me this night?” The question was innocent in word enough, but Eros’ glinting eyes hinted at other things.
“Only if you pay me my full,” Lyra said relaxing her grip on her son. “You owe me a tale, or I’ll keep your ring for it.” This Lyra said impatiently toying with a golden ring bravely set with a brilliant sapphire, Eros’ chosen stone. These little games that she and Eros’ played were like an elaborate chess match where no one ever one but only found themselves more challenged at every turn. Lyra did not enjoy these games, yet play she must and she had to become a skillful player if she wished to spare her and her son’s life.
“So be it then, but send the boy away, I will not have him disturb my tale.” Eros said as he sprawled himself on the nearest couch daintily dipping his hand in a bowl full of fruits that stood nearby.
Lyra was wroth to send her son away, but knowing she would risk Eros’ displeasure, she sent her son of to seek the harem master who severed as his teacher.
“Now my pet,” Eros purred, “Come and sit closer to me, and ask for the favorite tale. And as I tell it, I bid thee to fan me and feed me dates from this bowl.”
Briefly making a wry face, Lyra went to obey her master’s orders, but then sweetly smiled as she asked, “The story I ask is one that I have asked for before, but thou has never told me it either in secret or in public. Tell me now, of how you captured me and why thou didst so hastily bare me away from my previous,” her Lyra sighed and said what was necessary but untrue, “but unbeloved past husband, May heaven never let rest his soul.”
Luckily, for her, Eros seemed to be an agreeable mood rather than the foul ones he had seemed to be in when she asked him before times for this particular story.
“I will tell, oh thou favored one, for I am in a mood to smile upon thy silly whims, but there shall be a price latter, which I expect to be paid in full.” Eros smiled, but Lyra frowned as set to work in her fanning and feeding her hated master.
“It happened upon a time,” for so began all Enlayian tales, “that the sun rose bright upon my glory and everything smiled and prospered in my hands. However, not all was well. For the sun appeared dark in my second-man, my right hand, Capton, for he was jealous of me as he had no right to ought. It came it upon his mind that his Lord Eros was unfair in his dealings with him and the other men in the little band that makes my closest friend.
Smiling, and leaning in sweetly, he called, ‘Master Bandito,’ for such is my name amidst my dearest friends and companions, “thou hast more women then one man can keep to thy self, but we and the other men we have none other than the ones we have rightfully one in fair battle. ‘Come then, share with us your women.’
‘You must be blind, Capton,’ I said to him,” Eros continued. “For if you would open thy eyes thou could plainly see that I am 5 women to short to provide each man his own, and that spares me none. Now then, behold if thou canst provide the lack and five more beside, I will give thee the right to grant each man one according to his standing, and to keep to thyself such woman as thou desire.’
“The world then became bright in Capton’s eyes and seeing opportunity for his greed, he once more leaned close to my side in his eagerness to relate his words. ‘A wager then,’ Capton said, his face showing the treachery he had planned. ‘We will make a bet, you and I, to see who can bring in ten one the fastest. Whosoever brings their women back first, shall appoint all the woman to the men as he sees fit and keep thy harem, a harem which is so fair and beautiful no like has ever been seen.’ This Capton said hoping to gain my harem by trickery. But I saw through his false face, and behind it I saw opportunity.”
‘A higher wager, will I offer thee. Whosoever who brings back ten women first, not only shall have all the women to assign as his pleasure, but the last one to return with his women shall be cast out in shame, and the first shall have the master of this band of friends.’
“Thus it was agreed,” Eros, said smiling as he accepted yet another date from Lyra’s hand, “The conditions were simple, no woman from the city of Liberia could be taken, the all the women had to have something precious in or on their person, and all the women had to have a mark to confirm they had been taken forcibly. Such conditions were easy for me to achieve, and with the help of my Aunt Silverrod, I was able to obtain ten women without interference from any authority. Since dear Auntie is the second chair in the Great Hall, they dare not interfere with her, nor her nephew, especially when the nephew bears a document in his hand that excuses all crime that I have committed and any crime that I might commit in the next five years. I have power you see, my sweet, of this you should be grateful.”
“Well, it came to pass, that one fine evening as I was hunting I happened to stumble upon you and your husband sporting near the fall called the Stair. One look at thy fair face was it took to convince me. You had to be mine or I would die in longing for thy beauty. So without further ado, I captured thee and left your husband slain in his own blood.”
Lyra’s eyes snapped wide as she let the palm fan in her hand drop to floor with a clatter, as her hands went briskly to her mouth vainly tried to conceal the gasp, which escaped from her mouth.
“You killed my husband, but when you captured me, you told me you wouldn’t kill him if I went with you peaceably.” Lyra’s face had turned deadly pale with rage.
Eros’ shrugged, “So I lied. But you are happy with me, and you wish the scoundrel dead if you knew he was alive, wouldn’t you?” Eros’ eyes glittered dangerously as he watched his favored Lyra’s face.
“Yes, of course,” Lyra’s said nodding her head as one in a very bad dream. “Let me get you a drink my Lord, and then I shall serve my duty to you.”
Eros’ slipped back on the couch apparently satisfied with Lyra’s answer, and pleased with the prospect of the hours before him.
Secretly however, Lyra was thinking other things. “How dare he lie to me?” Lyra thought as she carefully poured wine into the crystal chalices that stood on a great serving at the other end of the room. As she looked backwards, her eye happened to fall on a certain bottle that her fellow harem mate happened to keep near her pillow. The poor girl would often use the bottle, for in it there was a powerful sleeping draught. One or two drops of the powerful potion was all one needed to have a good nights rest. “Imagine what the whole bottle could do,” Lyra thought silently to herself.
Lyra looked further back towards Eros’ who was stretching himself comfortably amidst the pillows on his private couch. Although Eros’ eyes were closed, Lyra knew that he could open them any minute. Dared she try to pour some in Eros’ glass? Perhaps she could steal away while he was sleeping. However, there were the guards and servants to deal with, and how would she explain herself to them? Lyra’s mind was furious, one part of her urged caution, one flew in anxiety crying desperately for her freedom, and one dark corner of her mind began to whisper words of revenge.
DP: Should she do it? Please keep in mind all the dangers involved with her action. And more importantly, if she does it, will she get a way with it? On my part, I would say even she tried to drug Eros into a deep dark sleep, she still wouldn't get away with it. But that's not up to me, that's up to you! As of consequence, Please Post!
Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Aug 05, 2006 3:01 pm; edited 1 time in total
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 9:12 pm Post subject: |
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Here's the map of Enlayia I've been promising. I hope it shows up.
Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Jul 22, 2006 9:45 am; edited 2 times in total
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 9:16 pm Post subject: |
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I know this map is really rough but it will be updated as soon as time and techonology allow. For now, I've included only major geogological features and the cities we've been to so far.
As you might have noticed I have made a new map. This map is smaller and has a lot less detail, but as it is just a reference map for this story, I guess it will do.
Signing off,
Dinranwen
Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Jul 22, 2006 9:46 am; edited 1 time in total
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 10:09 pm Post subject: |
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You may want to make it a little smaller Dinner, it's a bit big and the text seems to spill over the side for some reason on my PC! Anyway, good stuff, better than my attempts at art!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sat Jul 15, 2006 9:18 am Post subject: |
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Nice chapter again
I'd say that whether it works or not is irrelevant here. Lyra's beyond thinking it through. She'll just want the bandit to suffer.
And if she WERE to think it through, the only thing she'll have to lose is her son, and there's every chance that she'll lose him anyway if she stays here. Her captor has already proven he has no honour.
So, go for it, succeed or not
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2006 9:55 am Post subject: |
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Again disappointment greets me with no votes yet, but yet there is one posted vote for Lyra to go ahead and poision Eros.
If there are no other comments or votes by the Wesnesday, I will go with the default vote of Shady's posted reply. In that case Chapter 5 will probably be posted before Friday of next week. In case your wondering, I'm trying to get in two chapters a month so y'all can catch up to Chapter 7 of the story I already written before hand. Even though some things have changed in the story (This chapter for example is completly new), this story is still following the storyline as I orginally planned it.
Also for those who enjoyed this story, I have realeased a teaser to a story similar to this one in the New Storygame section. The story, temporaily called The Wanderer, has a simalar style to TSL and takes place in the World of Mian, the world where the nation of Enlayia exist. In fact, The Wanderer takes place for a large part in Enlayia far in the future from when TSL is now taking place. If anyone is interested, please read it and let me know what you think. The link is in my siggy, and the first chapter will be released soon. (Sorry couldn't resist the temption for shamless advertising)
Your humble writer-friend,
Dinranwen
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2006 11:09 am Post subject: |
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| Oh, P.S. Chinaren, please don't call me Dinner. It makes me think of being served up on a plate to a whole bunch of very hungry furry orange creatures. *Shudders* I shudder to think that I might be...gulp...Dinner. If you must short my name please call me, Din, Ran, Wen, Dinny, Ranel, Ranwen, anything but Dinner.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2006 3:35 pm Post subject: |
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Sorry, didn't see this poll go up. Voted.
I will call you by your proper name* then Didntrunwell.
*It's just my spelling sucks.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2006 7:00 pm Post subject: |
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Ha, Ha Chinaren, better call me Nevercouldrunwell, but look out because you might become Icouldn'tgetherbecauseshegotmefirst.
Thanks for your votes.
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solus.serpen
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| Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 12:03 pm Post subject: |
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voted.
good story by the way, din
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chapter 6 of DESTINY - a super old SG which won't continue...but there are a full 6 chapters if you feel like reading something with no ending!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 6:34 pm Post subject: |
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The vote was unamanious on this one, as I figured it would be. I'm trying to create more interesting Dp's but my stories never seem to lend themselves to them. I must admit, I'm much better in a traditional RPG setting than a storygame, but I'm learning.
As promised, Chapter 5 will be released sometime friday or shortly after. Here's a teaser, unless I seriously change my mind and completly change the story line, the next chapter will take place in a country other than Enlayia.
After that Chapter 6 will pick up again with Saul in a chapter called The Price of Revenge. You can imagine where that will lead to.
Just thought I give y'all something to look forward to while you patiently and impatienly wait.
As Humble As Ever,
Dinranwen
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JezSharp
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| Posted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 7:27 am Post subject: |
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Have just read through the story - and it was fantastic . I can definately see that you go all out on the detail front .
Going through the chapters I noticed a fair few typo's/mistakes, the only one I can remeber currently is one in Chapter 1.
| Quote: | | A month passed and still there was no sign of the couples return. Finally, as the month of May turned into June, Saul spotted a lone figure heading down the path towards Saul’s home. Thinking it was some beggar or thief, Simeon grabbed an axe to turn away the visitor. As the stranger drew closer, Simeon could see its matted hair, its torn clothes, and severe bruise on the creature’s body. Simeon’s hear turned in compassion and he dropped the axe, rushing forward to support the man as he stumbled. When the man lifted his eyes, Saul knew it was his brother. |
- I think Saul/Simeon is mixed up a bit here...and hear should be heart.
One other minor thing - with a detailed story like this one, I for one, start to skim read/drift over less action packed parts of the plot - putting the chapters into a slightly larger font (I'd go with size 14) definately helps (I find) to cut down on skimming over words.
This was definately a fantastic read though, with a lot of insightful, powerful and thought provoking stuff - really good .
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 6:37 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks for your comments, I will work on making the font bigger as soon as Chapter 5 is up. I will also being making corrections on All Chapter's here, so any more corrections that y'all find should be corrected. If not, p.m. me or post here.
Chapter 5 is going to be delayed due to some technical difficulties but it should definetly be up before Tuesday. Sorry for the wait. Please bear with me.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sun Jul 30, 2006 5:49 pm Post subject: |
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It is my regretful duty to inform you that the next chapter will be delayed. Earlier when I declared that it was delayed due to technical difficulties, I realy meant that there were technical difficulties. I have temporaily misplace my usb flash car, where I keep all my stories saved, however I think I know where it is, so I should be able to find it and post the next chapter soon.
Sorry for the delay, but really it's not my fault. As soon as I find my flash card, I will be to post it since the new chapter is completly done it just needs to be posted.
Also on a lighter note, a new reversion of this story with picture and corrections, should be up by the end of the month.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 8:00 pm Post subject: |
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Without futher ado, I present to Chapter 5
Chapter 5: What happened After
One face flashed before eyes as Lyra gracefully bent to pick up the glass bottle. The face that she feared to lose, but had already lost, her son’s face.
Her son’s life was at risk with every action she took, and this could perhaps be the biggest risk she ever took. It was true that so far, hers was the only male child of the harem, but that could change, and if it did, it could mean her son’s life. Besides, even if Eros did not kill her son, she would still lose him.
The consequence of her action flashed before eyes as she hesitated unsealing the bottle of sleep potion in her hands. First, she would probably lose all her rights in the harem, rights that had been dearly bought with long nights of dreadful sorrow, if not her life. Next, she would either see her son killed, or given to a tutor, or worse another woman. Then finally, she would have to pay, and pay dearly with any sort of torture or punishment, Eros’ mind could think up.
Yet, perhaps, just perhaps it could be done. The sleep potion was powerful, and with the time given to her, Lyra could gather her son and then, maybe with a slim hope, she could escape. Lyra was afraid that no matter the consequences this was a chance she had to take.
Unsealing the bottle resolutely, Lyra let ten drops of the sleeping potion fall into Eros’ chalice, and then one in her own. If Eros chose her glass instead of his, he would still sleep and perhaps he would think the sleep natural. As for her, if she drunk from that fated chalice, then she would gain some precious time to herself with a blissful slumber that she had been denied since her entry into the harem.
Stepping softly up to Eros couch, Lyra let Eros choose his glass without a word. Then as she held her breath, she watched as Eros first choose that drank from the chalice with ten drops of sleeping draught. Sipping cautiously at her own glass, Lyra watched for the effects to begin to take hold.
~~~
Pain.
A roaring fire of mind numbing pain filled Lyra’s head as she vainly tried to struggle against the chains that held her to her prison wall.
Everything had gone wrong from the minute Eros had sipped at his chalice to the moment were she had been drugged back forcefully to Eros’ home by two strong men none to gently.
Unknown to her, Eros had long ago built immunity to dryall, the herb used to make the sleeping draught. He had done so because Lyra was not the first one to try such a trick.
Upon drinking from his cup, Eros had instantly recognized the taste of the herb within the cup. Pretending to be asleep, Eros had listened while Lyra rushed about the room gathering her few possessions and then went to find her son.
Smiling, Eros crept out the door while Lyra was in the nursery trying to explain to the eunuch in charge why she needed her son. Then making a sign to his guard, he gave orders that Lyra was to be let go without hindrance but with difficulty. Then as she reached the city gates, just when Lyra had begun to hope. Eros had already sent two guards to the gate who immediately captured Lyra, and crushed all her hopes.
Lyra had immediately known that her fate would not be a pleasant one, therefore, she had fought tooth and nail to no avail. Lyra had been captured. Then she had been punished.
Tears filled Lyra’s eyes anew as she recalled her last terrifying hours.
First, she had watched as her son was given into the care of Hanoi, a Sel-nian harem servant to be his mother. Lyra would never see him again, and if he called her mother, his tongue would be the price.
Then, they had taken her voice. Pain once again filled her throat as she tried once again to cry with the tongue that was no longer there.
Finally, she had been cast in the Dungeons of Eros to spend thirty lonely days in the darkest keep without light, without company, and with only rats to be her solace. She would be fed only bread and water, and if, if mind you, she was lucky after the thirty days was up, she would return to Eros harem. If she was not so lucky, there were plenty men in Eros bandit troops that Eros could give her too. She shuddered to think what would happen with one of them.
Yet for now, she thought sarcastically as she vainly tried to look about her in the solid dark, I am alone, which is what I wished for.
Pain.
Fire.
Then Darkness took over, as Lyra finally fainted into darkness which light could in no wise enter.
~~~
It is with a sad heart that would must leave Lyra in such a state, yet leave we must, for time presses and other matters take place in the great theater of the world.
We go forward to the time after Saul had returned, and after Simeon had left. We go to Gilead, where things are not as they seem.
~~~
Gold grain glistened in the sunlight of a new day and the wheat’s heavy tops seemed to beg to be harvested by the strong young men who even now came lustily singing on the way to the fields. The land of Gilead was a land of fruitful plain, a place filled with rich soil, and glorious wide rivers. Given to honesty, hard labor, loyalty, and good down to earth, practicality the Gildean's were known everywhere for their predictability. Steady, hearty, and laughing, the men of Gilead were not given to quarrels but rather laughed at insults in their good-humored way.
[img=left]http://65.214.37.88/ts?t=9894930310976650322[img]
Yet, this did not mean Gildean’s were weak, or even blind to danger, the men of Gilead were quick to take up arms in defense of their fair country. The battles in Enlayia had proved that men of Gilead armed only with axe, staff, or bow, were fearless in battle, cleaver in stratagem, loyal comrades, honorable soldiers, and courageous holders of walls while others fled the battle. It was often said that although the men of Gilead were often the last to join a battle, they were also the last to leave.
It is with high recommendations and respect that the men of Gilead came back from Enlayia, brining back with them many merchants who wished to deal with the faithful men of such a fruitful, and beautiful, land.
Gilead’s was landlocked, and although deprived of the ever sighing, yet alluring sea, the Gildean’s did not feel the lack for they seldom left the land were their friendly families have lived, farmed, and died. From the northeast to south, the Adrian River flowed and its life giving waters served as the boundary between Enlayia and Gilead.
Not that there was not need of such a border for nature itself had erected a surer boundary than even a river could provide. For on Gildean side of the river there were plains filled with the work of agriculture, and on the other side without introduction or dispute the wood of Enlayia arose forming a wooden fence marking its land with a line that did not bend, curve, or even waver in its straightness. Gildean’s, lovers of the wide-open plain by nature and birth, did not enter enclosed places such as forest, caves, or boats, except when honor, duty, or war constrained them to. Thus, those tall stately trees, which made the forest wall, were a surer guard than any wall could ever be, at least to the Gildean’s.
Proceeding northeastward, following both the forest wall, and the Adrian River, one eventually came to what is often called the Gateway, also know as the Breaking. Here, and here only to the forest of Enlayia dared to cross the river to the Gildean side intermingling with the low berry, and myrtle bushes native to that country. There at the gate, the very land seemed foreboding, and the rocks, trees, and bushes that grew there seemed to be waiting, watching, for some unknown danger kept secret amidst their stalwart silent unspeaking shells.
The converging of two great mountain chains, the one being the Northern Mountain Chain, also called the Ice Mts., which our readers have heard of, formed the Gateway and the other being their less formidable cousins that formed a chain called the Eastern Wall for some unknown reason.
Those two great chains, formidable in themselves formed an almost united sheer cleft which at once remained one of a strong iron door, which either intended to keep something out or perhaps even to keep something in. However, the river Adrian, laughing triumphantly separated these two walls as it rushed with a loud roar from a great gap that extended from barely a crack at until widened by the unceasing patience of the river to about the width of 30 ft. wide. This breadth was not yet sufficient for the greatness of the river, so it still pounded like a ram against that wall, foaming out its wrath upon its breaking forth forming rapids not to calm until much further south in its course.
One would think that this breadth would not be sufficient to allow the entrance of a man, let alone an army, yet many a time the Dundee men have succeeded on launching a attack, albeit a small one, from this very spot. There was a passage unseen until very close to the spot on one side of the river, formed by very slick stones. Many a time the Dundee have slipped through this Gate, hoping to surprise their enemy, and each time they had almost succeeded. However, by the look of building of a fortress on the Gildean side, another such attack would not succeed.
To the North West, the Eastern Mountain Wall continued for some time making its slow way from its westerly line to a northern one. This mountain curve completed the northern border. To the west, a low stonewall occasional dotted by watchtowers and fortress was built on the extreme borders of the fruitful land. Some miles away the deadly and dangerous Sea of Change laid, and the Gilead’s borders could often see the smoke or storms that often plague that deadly desert that no one dared to cross. 
To the south, the semi-desert like country of Indri kept a silent watch. The land of Indris, dry, unfruitful was nevertheless filled with grass land, cacti, wildlife, and a strange wandering people that built no towns. The Gildean’s did not cross into the land of Indri and as long as the natives of that land did the same for them, they were content. To the South and East, the river of Andoria branched off making to wide brooks called the White River, and the Grey brook respectively. At this branch, the forest line turned sharply to the east giving way to the rock hills of Northern Andoria, a country that took the name from the very river that marked its borders.
Andoria, Enlayia, and Gilead were on friendly terms and had often, in olden times formed what was known as the Triple Alliance.
Thus landlocked by friend and foe, mountain and desert, the land of Gilead remained in its peaceful isolation faithfully maintain many of the traditions of their forefathers who had first settled in the land.
It was in the harvest season now, and many a workers sang in the fields on each side of the road that was seldom used except on market days. The people of Gilead did not travel far from their farms, and did not travel at all, not even to their farmers markets, during the harvest. Every man, boy, maid, and mother lent their hands to the fields. Even the rulers of the land worked within the fields to help bring in the harvest of that bountiful land. Therefore, it was understandable when upon seeing a lone traveler, who was to all appearances not only a strong male but also a native, some of the people stopped and stared. Simeon chuckled at his countrymen as he passed their many staring faces and whispers, returning their stares with a wide wave and hearty smile.
It was nice to see his homeland again and soon probably in a few hours he would come to the local farmers market that saw he born and raised. Then not to far north of that town, he would be able to turn his weary feet into his father’s house. “Oh how I missed my smiling mother, who despite their years still retained that youthful beauty and happiness that she had possessed on her wedding day!” Simeon thought to himself as he walked easily with a wide stride. It was not without sorrow that he had come back to Gilead, but still it was good to be home.
Yet as he walked he noticed something, the young men and workers of the field were not singing as they worked. He also noticed that contrary to usual open smiling faces, his countrymen seemed uneasy, and there seemed to be unusual hurry in the work of bringing the harvest. It was then he noticed that the grain in the field looked dry, brown, and the dirt of the fields seemed parched. The road had seemed dusty since he had left the area near the river. Something was wrong but it appeared from the hurried pace of the workers, he would have to wait to find out.
Finally, Simeon stood on the paths that lead to home. In the distance, he could see the gathered bunch of servant, friends, and his family under the shade trees near the homestead gathered under the them for the noonday meal and rest from the hot work of harvest.
“My son!” cried his father reaching to embrace him around the neck. “It is so good to have you home. We need you here, now more than ever, there being…Oh never mind that, and it is just good to have you home.”
“Greetings, to every one, and the Lord be with you on this blessed day!” Simeon said as he reached out his arms in a gesture of welcome to family, friend, and servant alike.
“And May the Lord Bless Thee!” Came the echoing reply as everyone raised their voices in the traditional welcome among believers of Gilead.
Simeon smile and blinked back a tear as everyone once again settled in their seats leaving a generous space for him on the right hand of Joses, his father and the master of the land, an honor he did not expect. Taking the seat, he accepted the bowl of water and towel from his eldest sister. He soon had washed his hands and face, a much need relief after the dry, dusty road, and started to help himself to the midday meal that his married sisters set before him and the workers also. Upon inquiring for his mother, Simeon discovered that his father and mother had been blessed with children once again in there old age.
Joses reveled that Naomi, his wife, had born twins just eight months before and was busy taking care of them, and the other little ones while the others harvested. The meal went quickly, and the his sisters soon left to clean up the meal after giving him a shy smile in token of welcome. The workers also began to leave picking up the sheaves as they went out to renew the harvest in the fields. His father however stayed gazing keenly at him waiting until there were along under the trees.
“What brings you home so soon, Simeon, my son?” Joses asked once they were along.
“Grave news father,” Simeon paused looking ashamedly towards the ground. The ground was dry and dusty, and ran like sand through his hands as he idly played with it. Looking upwards, he noticed for the first time how dry and brittle the leaves of the trees looked. In fact, there seemed to be more leaves on the ground than on the trees, and the sunlight streamed harshly through what little leaves remained on the once full trees. “But no more grave then the news which you try to hide from me. Why do you not tell me that there is a draught?”
Joses sighed as he stood to survey the fields, “It is true that there is draught. We have not had any rain all summer. Three months and not a single drop has fallen despite our prayers for rain. But that is not the worse of the news.”
“What could be worse than a draught?” Simeon exclaimed looking shocked at his father.
“The worst is that the Sea of Change has shifted again. Not only has it changed but the Sea has crossed our western border.”
Simeon’s mouth fell open. That was indeed worse news. He well knew of the Desert land called the Sea of Change for its shifting winds, and dangerous sand dunes. Few men had ever tried to cross the desert, and fewer still ever returned. The Sea of Change earned its name well, its hot furious winds caused its landscape to change daily, hourly, or even a split second. Not only that but often the border of that strange land would change, sometimes shrinking, sometimes growing, leaving Gildeans confused of where there land ended, and the Sea of Change began. Yet the Sea of Change had another danger, the very land that made it up could change.
The Sea of Change had been known to change from a luscious vain forest to a dry desert and from solid ground to quick sand. The Sea of Change had been an actual sea at times, a dark whirlwind once or twice, made out of fire quiet often, and most frequently, the whole land would become one huge electrical storm made of wind, rain, fire, and sand.
It was most dangerous at the stormy times, and Gilead had tried to build its wall far away from what was known as the border to the Sea of Change but to no avail. The Sea of Change came anyway ignoring man’s futile attempts to convey it with a sad excuse for a wall. It crossed their border three times so far, each time bringing destruction and death. It appeared that had done so once again.
“What is its form this time?” Simeon said crossing his arms as he looked to the distant west as if he could see the far away danger. The first time it had crossed had been long ago but well remembered as the Sea of change had crossed the border as a giant whirlwind, a storm that did not cease for two months. The second time it had done nothing at all, it simply had spread it’s sand for miles in Gilead so that nothing could grow where it had been for years afterward. The third time, the Sea of Change had overflowed Gilead with a mighty stream of water forming a deadly torrential river all across the land before draining into the Andorian River. The last time had been Joses’ grandfather’s time, and although it had done little damage other than the loss of land; the Sea of Change’s crossings were still regarded with fear.
“We do not know. It crossed the wall at beginning of summer just after our last rainfall. It came as a dusty whirlwind and quickly settled its sand all around in the west to a breadth of three or four miles. It has not done anything since except sit there appearing for the entire world to be the desert it truly is. It appears to be waiting for something, though we do not for what or for whom. The governors blame it for the lack of rain, and I am half inclined to believe them. That is why where in a rush to bring in the harvest. We hope to bring in a decent store before anything strikes, if anything happens at all. At the very least we will be prepared for the food shortage if this draught continues.”
“I see,” Simeon, said nodding. Then quickly dropping his pack from his back, he picked up a scythe from the ground.
“What are you doing?” his father said placing a restraining hand on Simeon’s well muscled forearm. “You haven’t even told me what brought you here. Is Saul well? Is he happy? You must tell me.” The worry in his Joses’ eyes was evident, yet Simeon knew the answers to his question would have to wait. There was work to be done.
“I’m going to help in the fields, what else.” Simeon said raising an eyebrow at his father. “Look father, if what you say is true, you are going to need all the help you can get in the field. My news will have to wait, it is long story, and you cannot afford to worry over what is already said and done. Come, I’ll tell you later when we can be alone.”
Joses nodded and picked up his own scythe from its resting place beside him. “Your right, I suppose. Come, we will work. We will trade stories after dinner in the cool of the eve when man’s work is over.”
Therefore, they went out to the fields together walking beside each other, father, and son, going to work in the fields they had so dearly bought with sweat and blood of their forefathers. Storms hovered in the horizon and each man was occupied with his own worries with their minds, yet they were strong together even in that eerie calm that often comes before the storm.
Simeon never did have the chance to tell his father about Saul for unknown to them the Sea of Change was changing miles away finally showing its true face that bellied the peaceful calm it had showed in its crossing.
News spread quickly as man runs but for many the news would come to late.
The Sea of Change had grown windy overnight churning up gloomy looking clouds over its sandy expanse both in its native land and in the strip of land that it now occupied in Gilead.
The border people of Gilead had braced themselves for the coming storm as the wind began to whip across even their own, but little did they expect the form the storm would take. In the fields across the land, they felt the wind and looked fearfully towards the west as their golden grain bent flat to the ground from the winds.
As all the people of the western borders looked to west and the wind began to blow across the land Gilead, the storm broke bearing a token of yet another deadly change of the Sea. The storm bore all the marks of an electric storm with heavy thunder boom and brilliant lighting bolts, but everywhere the lightening struck fierce flames appeared burning even upon even the dry sand of the desert. The wind swept the flames until churning cylinders of flame joined the fierce storm until the fire, thunder, and wind seemed to be one. The warning trumpets blew but it was too late, the storm was coming and unless by some miracle the runners outran the storm, no one know of the storm’s approach until it was too late.
Some miles away in the middle of the country of Gilead, Simeon and his father were still working hard in the field. From above one could see the great see of men who swung their glittering sieves in time to old song of the faith concerning the harvest of men’s soul. As Simeon looked up towards the west with his head bowed in the ever-increasing wind, he saw with great alarm a vast cloud of smoke. The smoke was that of a fire and from the way, the cloud grew even as he watched the flames were coming fast. Giving a shouting warning to his father, he gestured to the cloud lifting up his voice in a cry that was soon taken up by all on the farm, “Fire!”
Then dropping his scythe, Simeon ran as fast as he could to the town rushing past everyone on the path with fear and dismay. Quickly grabbing a large rams horn used to gather the town inhabitants to a meeting, Simeon let the trumpet sound forth a great blast. Even as he sounded the trumpet, the people looked west and as one man, each began to run as fast as their legs carry them to their homes. Not only did the trumpet warn the people of the town, but as the farmers heard the noise, each took up his own horn, bell, or drum and thus by one trumpet sound the nation of Gilead was warned as each men in turn repeated the warning given by Simeon.
Simeon, somewhat weary from his run, and the blast thought in alarm of his family near the farm so near to the west and surrounded for miles by grain. Taking a deep, Simeon ran quickly home hoping beyond hope that there would be someway for his small family to survive the onslaught of the flames. Simeon need not have worried for upon his arrival, he saw his father and the workers quickly spreading their own small bush fires to the larger flame that was ever approaching nearer. Even now, Simeon could see licks of flames, small from the distance, but he knew that the fire would come quickly. The wind too had also picked up, lashing ever eastward, with a fierceness that only came with the severest storms. Thunderclaps sounded, and without so much of breaths pause, the clouds that Simeon had saw now covered the land. Simeon and his family were in the middle of the storm, helpless in their own strength, scared, and distress.
Still, Joses keep his head on straight, and soon had Simeon as well as every other man spreading the line of their bush fire in a large circle surrounding their household. This way, once the fire hit it would be forced to born around them, and perhaps they would survive. Simeon did not think the circle was large enough to comfort his own consciences, but they soon had to cease their efforts for the fire had reached them. As Simeon retreated to the house, he felt the heat of the flame yet yards away lick the back of their heals and knew even with their circle, his family was in danger yet.
The ladies had not been idle, however, while the men work but had dosed the buildings of their house and had prepared wet clothes to protect everyone’s faces. As the men reached the house, each man was pulled firmly aside by Naomi, the mistress of the house and Simeon’s mother, as she doused them and their clothing with water to each man dripped. As the sweet water flowed down his face, Simeon looked into his mother’s eyes as she handed yet another man a wet cloth for his mouth. Her eyes were worried, yet both she and his father bore the steady of look of assurance and trust.
For a minute Simeon wondered what could make his parents so peaceful when he remember with some shame the God he served, trusted, and believed. As the flames came near their safe circle around the house, everyone knelt together embracing each other in fear. The flames cracked, and the winds blew but just as the fire reached them, Joses raised his voice.
“Psalm 24, A Psalm of David. The earth [is] the LORD'S, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” Joses shouted raising his voice even above the flames that now cracked fiercely about them in a hungry semi-circle.
“For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods.” Naomi said in a shaking reply, which carried to the circle despite the woman’s soft voice. Instinctively every head began to bow, half in prayer and half in reverence for God’s word. Around them, the fire seemed to dim a little but still its roar filled there ears even as thunder and wind filled their very hearts. Ever hungry, the fire began to sweep around them not yet encompassing the whole of the circle leaving the back free of flames for the moment at least.
“Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? or who shall stand in his holy place?” Cried Joses his voice cracking as even he began to suffer from the fervent heat of the flames that were before him. As the heat of the air began to grow unbearable, the danger now seemed to be dying from the heat and smoke, not from burning to death.
This time everyone answered, even Simeon who was now praying to his Lord and God with all his soul within his heart. “He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.”
“He shall receive the blessing from the LORD, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.” This came from one of the servants, Nimrod, a man of God.
Joses smiled and replied with everyone else with the next line. Everyone’s voice now cracked and sounded hoarse but still everyone cried out seeking comfort in the verses they knew so well. “This [is] the generation of them that seek him, that seek thy face, O Jacob. Selah.”
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.” Joses said in a somewhat quieter but still firm voice. The flames had now surrounded them, and man huddled together drawn to close in their mutual fear and faith. Mothers gathered their children closer as they vainly tried to like their parched lips dried from the heat. Sweat streamed into Simeon’s eyes, and his mind seemed to be fuzzy as for a few moments, he searched vainly in his mind for the next verse.
“Who [is] this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.” Came the weak reply as everyone struggled against heat and smoke, giving water to their loved ones while it lasted from the barrel near the door.
Even Joses was forced to bow his head in his weakness as he lifted his cracked voice to softly whisper his verse of the Psalm. “Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift [them] up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.”
“Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, he [is] the King of glory. Selah.” Few made the reply to Joses’ verse but despite the heat, the smoke, the thunder, and the wind everyone was comforted by the words they had spoken.
The flame burned around them for hours, till finally the flame passed on leaving the tired, weary, and parched family to count their loses without it. That storm would sweep here and there across the land, leaving death and devastation in its wake for two days until finally by a miracle of God-given rain it ceased. That storm was later called Firestorm, and even Sel-nea and Indris felt its blow as recorded in its history. The storm died before it reached the Andorian River leaving the east side of Gilead, Enlayia, and Andoria almost completely untouched along with the southern parts of Indris.
Joses' smart tactics had saved his family and his house, but many fell sick from the intense heat they had suffered. Lily, the youngest daughter of Joses and Naomi, fell sick and later died leaving her young finance devastated at his loss.
Joses, the twins, and several servants also fell sick. Naomi carefully tended all she could but not even all her care could spare her husband who was taken home by the God he served. Yet the twins, who seemed to be the worst amongst all the sick, were miraculous cured leaving their mother rejoicing in their recovery for they were the last of her womb and mark of their father’s affection.
At the end of the sickness, five had died including Lily and Joses. Simeon knew that others had suffered worse but he could not be help but feel sorrowful over the loss of his father who had been a man everyone had respected if not loved.
Standing next to the grave of his father, Simeon look away to the distant speck on the horizon that was the Enlayian forest. His heart longed to go to his brother, yet he had his mother to consider and the servants. A frown crossed his face as Simeon, balanced upon the heels of his feet as he considered what he should do.
Saul was not well, no matter where he was, that much was clear. Simeon had a haunch that revenge lie in the matter somewhere, but these days he did not know his brother’s heart.
Nevertheless, with his father gone and his sister’s married to husbands that had there own land to consider, Simeon was now in charge. A responsibility he could not take lightly considering the young babes his father had left on the earth. His mother would not be able to make it with them, especially now that the farm was ruined.
Many farmers would leave the land to go elsewhere, Simeon knew. Nevertheless, would he join them? Simeon had never wished to be a farmer, but even he knew that restoring the land would mean long and hard work.
He could leave with his mother and what servants they could afford, and go to Enlayia and to his brother’s side where Simeon now longed to be. Yet to leave the land that was his by right, to abandon the land that his forefather’s had sweat, bleed, and died over; Simeon knew that his father would have never wanted that.
To stay would mean poverty for a while, but with a little hard work, the land could be renewed. Fire may bring destruction, but it also brought life. The ashes that now were his field would provide rich soil for any harvest Simeon wished to plant. On the other hand, though, it would mean that he would have to take the chance of getting a harvest before winter when the season was already over. There was a chance, but it was a small one.
Besides, if he took that road, what would happen to his brother? Simeon knew that no matter what, he could never rest until he heard new from his brother. He could send a messenger, it was true, but what chance did a messenger have where he himself could fail?
Looking across the ash filled land, Simeon stood tall as he quickly made his decision.
What does Simeon choose to do? Does he abandon his family in their time of need to go on a wild goose chase in search of Saul?
Does he take his chances and try to take his family to Enlayia? Something that would take time and money, neither of which he can afford.
Does he attempt to rebuild his farm? Something his father wished for, but Simeon detest.
Does he do something else? Does he send a messenger? It is your choice my friends. Choose wisely.
Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Aug 23, 2006 1:27 pm; edited 7 times in total
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Chinaren
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JezSharp
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| Posted: Sun Aug 06, 2006 11:07 pm Post subject: |
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| Right ok, another impressive chapter. I think he should stay at home now and rebuild the farm, he may not like it but it is the most sensible thing to do. He should also send out a messanger to see what else is happening in case he can be of some help - going out with no information would just waste valuable time and resources atm.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 1:44 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | Gold grain glistened in the sunlight of a new day and the wheat’s heavy tops seemed to beg to be harvested by the strong young men, who even now came lustily singing on the way to the fields. |
I do so like this line!
However, lots of typos here Dr. Well. I assume you are running a spell-check, but these won't pick up some words. A couple: 'drought' (not draught) and clever (not cleaver). There are lots more, which kinda spoilt the chapter for me a bit. You need to check your work more once done. (I read mine through about 4 times in word, and then about twice once posted, and I still always miss stuff).
One of the picture links has an error too.
Anyway. I think he should stay for a while, to help get things up and running, and then set forth.
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solus.serpen
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| Posted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 1:52 am Post subject: |
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i voted for him to take the family to Enlayia. Who cares if his fathers name is dishonoured, his father is dead, and it is a death trap staying in that place.
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chapter 6 of DESTINY - a super old SG which won't continue...but there are a full 6 chapters if you feel like reading something with no ending!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 4:43 am Post subject: |
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Long, involved chapter. I liked it, and thought that there was a big improvement in the spelling. China's right, there are still a lot of words there that aren't spelled right, but fewer than in other chapters I think.
I'm going to vote with sending a messenger and helping out the family that he can, rather than chasing off after those that don't currently want his help. Keep the farm running, at least for a while.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 5:50 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks for all the comments, even the negative ones.
As for the spelling, believe it or not, I ran it through two different computers and read through the chapter at least four times before posting and once before submiting. Spellcheck doesn't catch a lot of the words, and do to some other problems (The Grammer Curse) I usually don't catch words either unless I read the story aloud. Something that I do, but obviously not often enough. I guess you can say that there is much that an author doesn't see in their own stories, and spelling is one of my blind spots.
However please don't worry, I'm working on finding a really, really good editor to help me with the spelling on futher chapters. (They seem to be few in this area though).
To tell the truth, I've been working on a Non-Cityofif Revesion of this story, which has most of the chapters but with parts added and edited here and there. I'm going to be sending this reversion to a couple of friends back in college, who will be helping me with all the errors in the story. At least that's what hoping they will do.
I've kinda hurt myself in that respect, because before I made them promise to edit my story, I read the story (up to chapter 4) to them out loud, and got them totally addicted. You wouldn't believe the nagging I reveiced. Still, hopefully they will become my faithful editor group and help me get a better reversion for you all out.
**PS. I'll be gone for the next weekend, so please excuse me if you don't see me around till some time next week.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Aug 09, 2006 6:17 pm Post subject: |
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Worked on a cover page for TSL. Although I did it on paint, I don't think it turned out half bad. Hope y'all enjoy it.
Oh if anybody has some suggestions where I can some find free pictures (trees, forest, fall, landscapes, etc) for this story that actually work. I would appreciate it. There's been a problem with the sites that I've been using for my pictures so far. Mainly that they've gone off the web. Sorry for the inconveince.
Also, I'm thinking about adding sound to this story, but I don't want to download anything onto my computer. I think it would be cool to just have some general background music to help with the mood of the story as it comes along? Is there any way I can add music without doing so, like by using one of my CD's? Oh, if I can't does anybody know of a site where I can get some music links free without having to download? Thanks so very much.
Ever, Always, Simply
Dinranwen
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solus.serpen
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| Posted: Wed Aug 09, 2006 11:28 pm Post subject: |
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not sure about the music aspect, but you can generally find quite good pictures on the search engines .
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chapter 6 of DESTINY - a super old SG which won't continue...but there are a full 6 chapters if you feel like reading something with no ending!
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Thu Aug 10, 2006 5:05 am Post subject: |
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I'm enjoying this story, and I think you're making progress on the spelling front. Getting an outside editor is a good idea - you're right, an author often can't see his/her own mistakes. Plus, reading out loud won't catch words that sound alike, like to and too, or they're/their/there, or your/you're. I would help, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be too reliable, as I get busy with RL sometimes. But if your other editors don't pan out, give me a try and I'll see what I can do.
Keep writing, and have fun!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 8:17 pm Post subject: |
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The votes are in...new chapter should be out soon.
Cheerios and muffins,
Dinranwen
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 7:52 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 6: The Price of Revenge
Smiling slightly, Simeon knew that was what he had to do now, simply trust the Lord, and leave everything in the Lord's wise hands.
Silently taking his hammer, anvil, and other tools of his trade, he threw them one by one into the very kiln that had before heated the work of his hands. Then taking the plow of a farmer, Simeon went out with the able-bodied workers and began, in faith, to rework the land in the hopes of a harvest even in the midst of autumn, even after the flames of not a month before, and even without a hope other than the promise given to him by the Lord.
Thus, Simeon would prove himself, a blacksmith among farmers, to be one of most faithful and diligent workers in the fields. Even as many other farmers left the area for other more fruitful lands, still Simeon stayed trusting the Lord to provide.
The Lord blessed his faith, for by the next year, Simeon had replanted a plenteous harvest in his father’s fields. Besides all this, the Lord granted Simeon a double portion by giving enough grain to last the year, but well into the next.
This is not to say that Simeon abounded his brother completely, quite the contrary. Simeon had sent two of his most trusted servants as messengers to Enlayia. Giving them a letter for Saul that explained everything that happened, he bid them good speed. If they could not find Saul, one was to return to Gilead with the tidings, and the other was to stay and make inquiries on where his brother had last been seen.
Simeon knew it was a fool’s errand to send messengers for Saul, but still crazy though Saul may be, he was still his brother.
~ ~ ~
Now dear reader that we have been informed of the singular state of Simeon, and found Lyra surprising alive but miserable, it is time perhaps to return to Saul who we find not to far away from the town of High Hills where he had set forth but three months before.
It was now fall, the anniversary of Saul’s marriages; according to our reckoning, it would have been two years since Saul had married Lyra and a year since he married the maiden for whom we have no name.
This would make it a year since the Firestorm in Gilead, and it would have been the seventh in which Saul had lived in Enlayia. Now that we comfortably resituated it the present time, we can follow Saul a little more closely as he once again enters the city of High Hills.
The maiden follows him as a pale shadow, wane from months of traveling, weary and footsore. Upon discovery him ask for a room at the Thrice Crowned Pine, the maiden wearily turned her feet to the path of the church. Simeon and Beth took one look at her, and with absolutely took her in.
The maiden was flushed with fever and weary, but time, love, and the gentle unquestioning care of Beth soon healed the weary traveler of her wounds.
As for Saul, his time in the city was not idle. Rather than wearily tossing himself on his bed, Saul took his parsley handful of coins and went into the city searching for a certain tavern that entertained certain fellows that followed a certain profession.
Hoping to use gold to cure for sealed lips, Saul hoped to be able to find out what bandit group controlled the falls, and who had been ‘on duty’ the day he and Lyra had been attacked.
Saul had realized the futility of searching for Lyra’s bones a few weeks before, and had now turned his attention on achieving his revenge against the thief who had killed his wife.
A fruitless search then followed as Saul went from one shady tavern to next until by chance, a weary Saul turned into the last tavern of his night search with only one gold sovereign to his name. The tavern was dark, crowded, and unlike the others, it was filled with an ever-present maliciousness silence that seemed to permeate the very rooms. The taverns name was The Cloak, and a certain man that if Saul wanted to find a man who could not be found, this was the place to look.
The Cloak had a reputation to house the vilest thieves, the most wanted villains, and the most experienced of assassins. It was not a safe place to be sure. After one look at Saul with his wild look in his eyes as he stroked his dagger eagerly was enough to persuade the men at the tavern that although the stranger was not one of their profession, Saul was not a man to fight with, at least not while he was awake.
This silent communication passed between Saul and the inhabitants in the bar for but a single moment, and after the silence passed business returned to normal. As whispers became louder, and card games renewed, Saul slipped silently unto a stool besides the bar sighing heavily as placed his hand upon his head.
Ordering a drink from the bar tender, Saul split his precious gold piece for several silver pieces. After a quick sniff at the drink to guarantee that it was safe, Saul grunted as he looked to the man cloaked man on the right side of him and lifted his mug to the strange man who did not know nor wished to know. “Here’s to your health, since I will not keep mine having forswore it to be lost in the pursuit of a bloody revenge. May a curse of thousand pestilences hang upon thieves who steal men’s wives and the ravage of a hundred Dundee fall upon the house who stole mine. May he never rest in peace but be disturbed continually by a hundred thousand crawling sores so he can not eat by day nor rest by night.” With that exclamation, Saul drowned his sorrows in his cup, ignoring the villainous stares that now were aimed at his back.
“Such a bitter curse, my friend, is perhaps not wise in the place where you are presently,” The cloaked man next to Saul said sagely as he waved the dagger-like stares of his companions off with a simple gesture behind Saul’s backs. The men of The Cloak grumbled but reluctantly agreed to the man’s silent suggestion.
“I care not if it is wise or not, neither if you are my friend or foe, I am here for but one purpose and that is to find what I deem necessary to complete the revenge upon the thief who stole my wife from my very arms not even after six months of marriage, and killed her not even considering the babe she carried within her belly that so clearly showed. I care not for neither life nor death, neither food nor drink, neither nor love, until such time I can pore my revenge on such a one that caused my troubles.”
“Who is this man, I wonder, that caused you so much pain? Do you know his name perhaps? For I recognize the voice of revenge, and I am in sympathy for your cause, for I too have a wish for revenge. A wish that I fear will never be fulfilled. But come now, tell me your cause, and perhaps I shall help you as a man that I share a common bond with, that bond being the vow of a dreadful, ravaging, and merciless revenge.” At this the hooded man’s voice harden causing all who heard to cringe except for Saul, as for Saul on his part he smiled a small wry smile of a man whose found a friend of the worst sort.
Saul and the hooded man had a common bond for now, and that bond was enough to make them the closest of friends and the best of companions.
“How shall I tell my soul’s desire to a man whom I have not seen, a man whose name I do not know?” Saul said wisely, as he leaned back against the counter hoping that the poor light within the tavern would by chance reveal the face of his companion.
“I have been called Capron, although it is not my real name, you may call me by it. As for my appearance, a better acquaintance will have to wait the revealing as such a secret as that. Be patient my friend, and tell me thy story I shall see what I shall do for you.”
“Why should you help me? You do not truly need me for you are men of means. That much I know if only from the place you prefer to reside. Therefore, it must be for some cause that you seek to help me other than you so boldly claim.” Saul said as his eyes narrowed with skepticism.
Revenge came at no small price, and considering the condition of his purse, Saul had no wish to be indebted to a man who he could not pay especially considering that Saul knew no reason to trust this cloaked man whom talked of such things his heart wished to see.
“As for my cause, I keep it as my own. Let us call it a common curtsey to which men pay to each other when they find others in a state similar to their own. As for my price to achieve your revenge, we will speak of it later. For information, as I am low on funds at the moment, I would gladly make your purse a little lighter. Say four silver coins?”
Saul paused from a moment taking a sip from his mug and looking cautiously across the distance that separated him and his hooded companion. With a soft nod, Saul indicated his agreement to his troth, saying, “It is a fair price indeed, I believe my dear friend that we have bound ourselves together with as bond as strong as revenge can make.”
A brief change of the said change happened, and Capron once again urged Saul to tell his tale so that he might be able to gain more insight on Saul’s case before giving any information.
“To proceed with my tale,” Saul said clearing his throat a little and lowered his voice to continue, “I do not know the name of the man who caused me such woe but I remember well his face. The man, being a dirty dishonest thief did not dare to attack me openly but knocked me cleanly on my skull. I was able, despite the blow, to catch a glimpse of my attacker before all went dark.
Mine attacker was of average height, but thin in a slightly wiry way. He must have been strong for the blows he struck were sure and did their work quickly. The man had dark hair lacquered back after the manner of noblemen, and his eyes were dark, sharp, piercing things that seemed to kill with a single gaze. The thief had markedly sharp turned nose curved as to look like a hook. His skin was pale, and his dress was rich enough to make him to be a lesser lord, or well-off merchant. The feature that struck me the most was the pale scar that ruined the beauty of his left cheek.
So far that I have learned that my man is a expert thief who takes pleasure in stealing other’s men’s women and servants, despises taking money from any, and steals rather for beauty than wealth. I have also learned that he is not to be found anywhere, nor will any one tell me of him. From their silence, I have learned that my thief is well hidden, well guarded, and reasonably rich.
I also I have learnt that he is marvelous protected from the police for although wanted, the police did not find him nor upon finding him would they arrest him. From that I have learned that not only is my thief well protected but also a man of influence and some power.”
“As for the circumstances which lead to my sorrow, it is a long tale laborious to be heard or told. In summary, let suffice to say that my wife and I were attacked at the fall often named the Stair about a year before this date. I have been informed by certain people of certain inns that the Stair has been declared neutral ground for all thieves and tourists. The only fall of seven to have such a protection against such harms.
From this, I learned that our attack was singular and contrary to all the codes of thieves at least in this town. Thus, I have learned that I am looking for a man who respects no man, but is a law unto himself. All that I coaxed agree with me, but refuse to give his name declaring death would be preferable than declaring it to a stranger. Thus is my tale and it for such-a-man with a notable scar, medium wealth, vast influence, disrespect, and such bravery as to be called stupidity.”
Upon looking at the hooded man, Saul discovered that the shadows of the man’s face had turned pale, if such as thing as a shadow growing pale was possible. A small gasp came from Capron as he slowly tried to regain control of his rage as one fist curled and uncurled of its own accord. “It cannot be true that the description of the men we seek could be so alike and not be the same. Come describe to me your wife and perhaps by that description I can know if indeed it were the same man. For the man I seek also has puckered scar upon his left cheek, disregards all curtsey, and has stolen more than one woman. Therefore, tell me I pray thee, of your wife for by some chance I may have seen her, I may verify that we indeed seek the same man and have the same cause.”
At this, Saul seemed joyful, grim, and blissful all at once. Joyful that he was so close to his goal, but his joy was a twisted joy thus making him grim at the prospect of revenge, and finally blissful to be able to lavish on his Lyra’s charms and beauties.
“How can I describe one who surpasses all loveliness?” Saul exclaimed his eyes wide in ecstasy and memory.
“Briefly and as candidly as your emotions allow, I’ll not listen to the chatter of a love-sick fool but rather listen to a man whose head is not swayed by such a drunken emotion.” Capron said skeptically making a wry face that Saul could not see. He too had known love, but that was another story. Capron’s feelings of love had ended in yet another reason to despise his hated enemy.
Saul pouted briefly looking much like disappointed two-year old boy, but then with a wry face composed himself to be as brief as possible with reluctance that Saul came to be known for. “In short, my wife whose name is Lyra was good five to six inches shorter than me, and was approximately six months pregnant at the time she was killed. Her bulging stomach was noticeable only from the side not to the front or from the back. If she lived, our child would have been a year and some months old by now. If, I say, for I saw the blood beside me and found her back in the river of the fall some miles away from the stair. I am convinced that she is dead and is not alive, so what purpose is there in telling you she died and did not live.”
“Continue on, man, for it may be that she lived and died not forasmuch as thou know. Has thy seen her body without its lifeblood? Have thou found the remnants of her bones? Therefore say on in hopes that you loved lived and did not die.”
“Very well then, although I believe you not, I will continue to fulfill the vow I have made unto you.” Saul said pouting a little before continuing. “As I said, Lyra was shorter than I by some height and considerably heavy with child. She was also young, about seventeen summers old when I married her. She was lively looking and fleet of foot before she became encumbered with the burden of a child. Her hair was of a lighter shade then found among your natives being a reddish-brown similar to mine but lighter of shade. Her eyes were the most beautiful aspect of her faith being a particular shade of yellowish-green that seemed to tease one’s soul with its inner light. She was a well-shaped thing even the heaviness of her pregnancy, and a certain gracefulness seemed to be upon every step she took. Lyra was most beautiful of daughter’s of Enlayia to mine eyes, but some would dispute me upon that.”
At this Capron could barely restrain himself but threw back his hood revealing his well squared features and bearded face. “Rejoice my brother for your wife lives!” Capron cried gesturing the host of the tavern to provide drinks for everyone to celebrate. Saul wild beyond imagining was astonished at the words of Capron, and did not rejoice as the older man drank to his health.
“What do you mean when you say my beloved lives? Did I not tell thee that she is dead, mine eyes having seen her blood?” Saul said dumbly looking at the now revealed Capron in amazement.
“It is true, companion mine, for I see her of my own eyes and she is indeed the fairest among the daughters of men. Her hair flowed down to her elegant waist, and her eyes seemed to speak more eloquently than any tongue ever loose. She is cunning at the harp, and a beauty in body but also in spirit. Therefore, rejoice, for know and understand that our bonds are drawn tighter than any brotherhood, for I tell thee not only that wife lives but also I know the man who has taken her to be his own particular pillow friend, and that man who took thy wife is also the man who has made a particular vow of revenge. Consequently not only do you and I have revenge in common, but we each hold to a common enemy for your man and my man is one and the same.”
Saul bewildered for a moment began to grasp one simple statement that Capron had made, and the first thing that left his lips was “She lives!” This was uttered in the whispering hope and promise of prayer and adoration. Then with this revelation, Saul’s mind began to herd itself with a thousand questions, but again doubt and mistrust for this man whispered in the back of Saul’s mind.
Capron leaned toward Saul eagerly seeing his fish eyeing the bait, “Since we have a common enemy, my friends, will you let me help you in your revenge? I would charge no price for revenge on our man would be profit enough. Come, what say you?”
**Decision Point time. This one is kind of open ended and a little obivous. Please free to ask questions, offer advice, comments, corrections, critizism, compliments, etc.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:32 am Post subject: |
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Well indeed, find out more! Whence is Lyra? What is she doing and why hasn't she run away? What of the babe? Who is the man?
All these and more I wish to know...
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 1:10 am Post subject: |
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I'd say there's no point in seeking out information and then not acting on it when you find it. This man seems able and willing to give you the full story. Do whatever you have to to get it from him.
Good chapter, and I only noticed three spelling problems this time.
One:
| Quote: | | Saul took his parsley handful of coins |
Unless his coins are made of some sort of herb, I think you're searching for either 'sparse' or 'paltry' here.
| Quote: | | until such time I can pore my revenge on such a one that caused my troubles.” |
'Pour' not 'pore'
| Quote: | Let us call it a common curtsey to which men pay to each other
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Curtsey is a dipping of the knee in respect. Courtesy is politeness, decency. You used that a couple of times, it needs changing
That's the lot. Keep it coming.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 2:59 am Post subject: |
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Now I have a few seconds more...
Spelling is better, as already Stoated. Now I think you need to work on style a little.
Let's just take this sentence:
| Quote: | | A fruitless search then followed as Saul went from one shady tavern to next until by chance, a weary Saul turned into the last tavern of his night search with only one gold sovereign to his name. The tavern was dark, crowded, and unlike the others, it was filled with an ever-present maliciousness silence that seemed to permeate the very rooms. The taverns name was The Cloak, and a certain man that if Saul wanted to find a man who could not be found, this was the place to look. |
Arg! It's a mess! First off, too many uses of the word 'tavern'! The last one should also read: the tavern's name.
There is a bit near the end (in green) that looks like there are some words missing.
It rambles on in a tangled and babbling way! Slow it down a little, take a deep breath. What you are trying to convey here is sound, but it comes out all over itself.
Then there is the general 'logic'. ~Dons Star-trek hat~. First you say that he stumbled in by chance, then you seem to say he was directed here (the green sentence).
When writing try and keep the 'whole' story sequence of events in your head, even stuff you don't write.
For example, if your hero was going poo poo you probablywon't write that bit. However, at the same time he is doing this someone is fighting downstairs, and someone is breaking into his room. Both events could be connected to the hero, but for narrations sake, they are only referred to later. Even so, you still need to know where your hero was at that time.
Okay, that didn't work as well as I thought it would, but hopefully you get the idea.
Now, I have a few minutes so let's do a (very) quick rewrite:
Saul stumbled from one tavern to the next. One alleyway to another, seeking out the darker side of the city in a hope, a desperate hope, that someone would know something of his wife and her killer.
He spent his gold in an attempt to loosen tongues, but he had no luck. No luck that is until one rogue, more desperate than others perhaps, pointed out 'The Cloak'. A dark tavern of disrepute even amongst the scum that haunted the night.
Down to his last gold piece, Saul located the inn, and entered boldly. The rooms were dark, malice seemed to permeate the very air, and he felt eyes staring from every shadow...
Another quick one before I have to rush off. Several times you mention pouting. I get it, and it works 'cos I can picture it when I read it. The only problem I have with it, is that it isn't very... manly.
I dunno.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 7:39 am Post subject: |
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Of course he should find out as much as he can. But what is he being asked for, what kind of commitment? Capron is offering his help, but there is mention of "bait" and distrust - what's the catch?
This is a good story, very imaginative, but a bit hard to read. I started to put in corrections but got tired; here is as far as I got:
| dinranwen wrote: | | Simeon had reaped a plenteous harvest in his father’s fields. |
I think you don't plant a harvest.
| dinranwen wrote: | the year, and well into the next.
This is not to say that Simeon abandoned his brother completely, quite the contrary. |
not abounded
| dinranwen wrote: | Giving them a letter for Saul that explained everything that happened, he bade them good speed.
Simeon knew it was a fool’s errand to send messengers for Saul, but still crazy though Saul may be, he was still his brother.
(one of these stills is not needed)
~ ~ ~
Now, dear reader, that we have been informed of the singular state of Simeon, and found Lyra surprisingly alive but miserable, it is time perhaps to return to Saul whom we find not too far away from the town of High Hills whence he had set forth but three months before.
Now that we have comfortably resituated it to the present time,
shadow, wan from months of traveling, weary and footsore. |
"Whence" could also be "from where".
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 10:03 am Post subject: |
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Okay there are alot of mistakes here, which I will work on, and I'll do a little tinkering of my own too and see if I can improve the style a little.
In response to Mother Goose's comments: I work on all the corrections you mentioned. I guess I didn't spot them out because the mistakes I made were ones that spellcheck doesn't pick up.
As for the haverest thing, I was trying to do a 'look into future' bit for Simeon so that next time we caught up to him, we would be up to speed. I guess I didn't pull it off so well. I correct that part with common sense in mind.
In response to Chinaren's rewrite: Oh look I get a custom rewrite from Chinaren for free! I heard that it happened but I thought that they were kind of rare. Thanks Chinaren, now since you were so kind as to rewrite that part for me, I think I'll use your rewrite.
However, I will also work on rewriting the other parts that need correcting to. As for the pouting thing, I know it's not manly to pout, that's why I included it in Saul's personality in this chapter. Let's just say there isn't much of what you would call a Man left in Saul.
To Shady: Thanks for the corrections, I'll work on them as well as the others. I'm glad to know that at least that I seem to be getting better at this whole writing and correcting thing.
To everyone who has posted, Thanks for the comments! All these options will be added to the soon up coming poll.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 4:15 pm Post subject: |
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| Polls Up! Vote, Vote, Vote.
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JezSharp
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| Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 11:45 pm Post subject: |
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| Well I see no reason to distrust Capron as he seems to be genuine - or else he would have to be an incredibly accomplished actor. I say he should ask some more information then accept his offer of joining forces.
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solus.serpen
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| Posted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 1:46 am Post subject: |
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I thought he should accept, then find out more when they are travelling, may as well start moving - no point in wasting time. I voted for just accepting.
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chapter 6 of DESTINY - a super old SG which won't continue...but there are a full 6 chapters if you feel like reading something with no ending!
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 11:40 am Post subject: |
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| Saul seems to be someone who leaps to conclusions pretty easily - I don't think he'll stop to ask more questions before he agrees to Capron's help. I vote with solus. Get going; ask questions on the way.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Sep 01, 2006 1:07 pm Post subject: |
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Tied vote so...I will post the two most poplar options plus another third option.
This will run for a few days, and the most popular one will be chosen.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Sep 06, 2006 12:14 pm Post subject: |
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| New chapter will be released soon!
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Chinaren
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Sep 15, 2006 6:43 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 7: Crimson
Saul looked at Capron for but a moment; the desire for revenge was too much to refuse such an offer.
Sticking out his hand, Saul boldly declared, “I agree.” Capron smiled also and raised his glass to Saul in a salute.
Soon however the questions had came pouring out. “Who is he? Where can we find him? What shall we do for our revenge? Is she okay? The revenge most is cruel, horribly, horribly cruel you understand. How soon can we leave to seek him? How many guards does he have? My child, what of my child? Can we save her in our revenge? We shall burn him, yes burn slowly and torturously, burn even while he roast alive on the spit of his own hearth fire. How can we accomplish this? Shall we need help? Where is his stronghold? How strong is it? Shall we attack him openly, or secretly? Is she still living?” All this tumbled out of Saul’s mouth in a hushed hurry tone as Saul leaned forwarded to whisper in Capron’s ear to avoid being heard.
“Hush my friend; it is neither the time nor the place to discuss such things. Be content with such things, as I have told you for after years of waiting, it will not do to ruin plans of revenge in a sudden passion. We will discuss such things later. Come, depart from this place, and go to your hotel. I shall follow you discreetly as possible, and will discuss plans of revenge in the safety of your room.”
Saul quickly looked around him and as he left the bar silently, Saul sent a discreet nod in the direction of Capron. That night in the secret of Saul’s room, Capron joined Saul to form their plan of revenge against their enemy. Saul being of a fiery nature was all for a straightforward attack against the well guarded, and rich, Eros with the result ending in death.
Capron urged caution on his young fiery friend who he now called brother due their double tie of cruel purpose. Capron counseled a more subtle revenge on Eros, hoping to ruin his reputation by proving that the noblemen were involved in the worst sort of crime. In the end, all that was agreed upon was that they should set out to Liberia as soon as the dawn had risen. Their plans, it was agreed, would be decided then and be based on the condition in which they found their enemy.
Early the next day, Saul and Capron slipped out of the city while the forest still lay under the misty cloak of the twilight before dawn. The maiden did not follow Saul this time, for she was not at the gate. The maiden would not be able to follow Saul for a long time nor hear of her husband for two weeks time, as she at that time lay in a feverish fit in the church of Simeon and Betty. Our tale will leave her to rest in peace without the curiosities of historians disturbing her healing sleep.
Our journey is now with Saul, as short as may be, while the maiden lay recovering from her fever, Saul and his companion traveled quickly to the city of Liberia. It was a week’s journey from High Hills to Liberia but it made no difference, for Saul hastened on empowered the prospect of seeing his Lyra was speeded by love’s hope. Once at the city, Saul learned what Capron meant when he had said, revenge would have price.
Capron’s plan was to have Saul to report Eros to the authorities as a thief, and although Saul disagreed preferring above all force, Saul was soon held to his vow of payment that he had promised to Capron if the man was able to him what he needed. Reluctantly, Saul told his story to the chief of justice to Liberia but to no avail. The chief justice, an obscenely large man, was held in the pockets of Eros, and would not hear Saul’s case against the man who so largely paid the Justice’s own salary. Having failed in this, Capron had Saul repeat his story to every noble, every lawyer, and every man of law who would listen to so low a man. Yet, again, Capron’s plan failed for Eros’ reputation remained as flawlessly clean as ever, and rather they called Saul a liar, crazed, and a fool. Saul tired of Capron’s failing advice, took maters in his own hands.
Gathering all the men his failing pockets could afford, Saul led a small attack on the home of Eros in the middle of the night one cold autumn night. Saul, fiercely glaring at the five beggars that had been all his silver could by, stood staring at Eros house as he face glinted sharply in the torch light.
Grimly setting his face, Saul extinguished the torches that his men had lit and whispered his silent orders. The men would proceed to the stores of Eros, and wreck havoc there hopefully providing enough of distraction that Saul could slip into the harem of Eros to carry away his Lyra who he hoped to find there. Silently climbing up a tall nearby, Saul walked across a think branch that was a little above the lower part of Eros roof. Once there, Saul planned to lead his men down the trees that formed part of the wealthy nobleman’s roof.
The plan was a good one, for when Saul silently dropped unto the floor of the western wing, not a soul stirred. Meanwhile his hired men dropped silently and began to head to the storerooms of Eros. The men, not loyal to Saul in the least, had come more for the promise of being able to steal from the storerooms of Eros than to help Saul in any way.
Saul meanwhile silently snuck in shadow towards the room where Capron told him the harems were located. Hoping that the man had not lied, Saul silently reached to the door that surprisingly was not guarded. Upon looking inside, Saul understood why Eros left his precious harem so unguarded at the door. Inside the curious forms of women lay sleeping on pillows on couches carelessly displaced throughout the room but at the ankle of each woman, a chain connected them to a strong looking slave that had four other chains connecting him to the other women the he guarded. There were three slaves total each with five women attached to him by the strong looking chains.
Luckily for Saul, the slaves had broken into a bottle of wine after their master had gone to bed and now were all nosily snoring on the floor unconscious to either Saul or the open door. Thanking his luck for such a chance, Saul slipped to each slave and closely looked at them to see if they would awake in the midst of task. The stench of liquor on each man’s breath told Saul he had no need to fear these slaves.
Smiling Saul silently began to lift the veil of women to see if his precious Lyra was among them. After lifting all of their veils, Saul knew that Lyra was not among these women. Sighing Saul began to ponder where Lyra could be if she was not in the harem. As he thought, two thoughts crossed his mind that for one Capron had lied, and for the second that Lyra really was dead. Just as Saul began to despair, Saul realized that if not the harem, and if she was alive, Lyra would probably be in the bedchamber of Eros that night.
Quickly stifling the anger, which rose at this prospect, Saul stalked away from the harem his quick stride taking him out of the west wing to the center of the house where Capron told him Eros made his bedchamber. As he stalked past many doors and statues, Saul hurried his footsteps with the thought that his readily hired thieves would soon be caught but he was to late for even as Saul raced through the very hallway where Eros lodged a cry came that echoed through the house.
The thieves had been discovered, and even as Saul stood stock still with terror, he heard the echoing footsteps of guards hurrying down the hall as they yelled for their fellows. Then, then as if that was not enough, Eros’ door burst open revealing the tall prideful noble man in an open nightshirt and a hastily put on pair of trousers.
In Eros' hand, he held a curved scimitar, and behind him, a beautiful woman vainly tried to adjust a silky robe as she tired to carry a crying two-year-old child in the other. Saul stood stock still spellbound by shock, terror, and a vast engulfing sense of relief that filled his whole being leaving little room for any thought of action. One thought filled Saul’s mind as stared at the beautiful woman with lush chestnut hair and the marvelous light-green eyes one ever saw, “She’s alive, my Lyra is alive, and my child, surely she carries my child.”
As for Lyra, she did not see Saul as her sole attention was bent towards the crying child who she vainly tried to soothe with simple silent gestures and motions. As for Eros, he did not recognize the man that he had so brutally beaten but two years before, but simply took Saul for a staring servant who came to make his report.
“Come on man, stop looking like a drowned fish and tell me what this wretched noise is all about!” Eros shouted glaring down at Saul.
Saul stared back and with a coolness he did not know he possessed simply said, “It is thieves sir, their in your storerooms.”
“Is it only that? Go then to your master that Eros said not to bother the poor wrenches, let them take what they wish. They will be punished for their crimes later. Make sure to tell your master to bring an accurate report of their appearance or Eros will be displeased.”
Eros waited tapping his foot a little as he stood there waiting for Saul to depart in a flutter in the usual manner of his servants, but Saul did not move. “What are you waiting for you useless servant, be gone before I have a mind to take your head off a long with those thieves!”
Saul’s eyes took on an icy edge as his voice turned from a honey reply to a growl, “I am no servant of yours, Eros Thief, but a man who comes to seek his own.” Saul looked at Lyra possessively as the frighten girl’s eyes took the look of shocked recognition, as she silently mouthed his name. Looking at her Saul realized that she had not spoken once and that Eros, the horrible man that he was, must have taken the tongue that uttered many a song.
Eros eyes narrowed and looked at the man who challenged openly in his own home, “What is your name, impertinent fool? And how dare you challenge me so openly, do you not know that I can call a hundred guards on your head with but one shout?” Eros raised his eyebrows as if daring Saul to challenge him yet again.
Saul rose to meet the challenge of Eros’ eyes striding a few steps forward as he drew the axe that was ever by his side. Meanwhile, Lyra, his wise and beautiful Lyra had cautiously retreated to the harem clearly foreseeing a fight that one of the men would not survive.
At the sight of Lyra safely retreating, Saul took yet another step forward as he sent a sharp reply in response to Eros’s questions. “My name is Saul, and the maiden that warmed your bed this night is my wife, and her name is Lyra. I have come to claim her and my child. I do not fear your guards. Do you not hear them running from this place? Do you not hear the screams of terror and panic? I foresaw this parley and ordered my hired thieves to burn what they could not take. I especially ordered this send a torch into your wine cellar. Any moment now, half your house will erupt in flames, and your men knowing of your danger even now run to extinguish the flames to save your life, as little as that is worth. Surrender now, and I may allow to live, if not you shall die by either fire or the sword, I care not which.”
Eros laughed, as he raised his scimitar in open defiance to Saul’s challenge. “The woman is mine, and you lie. Nevertheless, I shall accept your invitation for me to kill you since you show such bravery.”
“I do not lie,” Saul said coolly as the slight smell of smoke began to fill the hall in which they stood. “But come now; let us see if your sword speaks better than your stuttering tongue.
The sounds of blades rang metallically throughout the air as the two men fought back and forth across the hall as wielded a sword and the other welded two-headed axe. In the kitchen of Eros, men struggled to extinguish the flames that threaten to reach the wine barrels that sat innocently in one corner of the cellar below the smoky kitchen. The servants fought a losing war for the flames crept closer and closer to the barrels that would provide the flames with a deadly fuel.
Meanwhile, Lyra had not been idle but upon arrived to see the eunuchs that guarded the harem stark drunk quickly released each woman in turn. The woman looked at each other in fear until Lyra quickly hushed the group with her hands. Then as each of their eyes settled on her, she set her child down to have both her hands free so she would be able to talk to them in the hand language that each of the maidens now knew so well since they had their voices silenced by the cruel Eros.
Lyra silently explained to them that there was a fire, a bad one in fact, and that Eros was being distracted by a man who dared to fight him and that challenger was her husband. Quickly she informed them that if they wished to escape as they had so often planed now was the time to do it. “Garb yourselves modestly, with hoods, cloaks, and clothes you have. Than quickly leave the city as fast your legs will carry you,” her hands told them.
Finally Lyra, while the others quickly dressed in a flurry, pulled aside of the woman who come from High Hills and thrust her child into the woman’s arms. “Take him,” Lyra’s hands said in a flutter, “I must stay with my husband. If we live, we will meet you there. Take this also. It is written in my husband’s language, which came from the farm land,” since there was no word for Gilead in their sign language, here Lyra had simply gestured the word for ‘farm land’ instead, “I do not know what it says, for I cannot read it. Take this also,” Lyra, gestured as she handed another smaller piece of paper filled with Enlayian script, “If we do not arrive in two weeks take the roll and the sheet to the nearest church. They will be able to deliver it and the child to my sister, to whom I leave everything if I should die.” With that Lyra fled before the woman could so much a blink her protest at being handed a child.
Flying down the hall, Lyra found both Saul and Eros bleeding, but Saul seemed the worse as he stumbled as if heart. Suddenly, Eros tired of playing with his opponent knocked Saul’s axe out of his hand, and stepped forward to deliver Saul’s near death. As Lyra’s mouth formed a cry she could not utter, she ran heedlessly in between Saul had the sword blow that would have been his doom. As Lyra, felt the sword her through her ever-expressive eyes beg Saul to understand, but as heart beat its last two times her world blackened and she died shedding her blood at her beloved’s feet. Pulling his sword from the now limp body, Eros cleaned his blade without so much a shrug. Eros showed no regret at the loss of one woman, and quickly his place again as step away from Saul to recover the balance he had lost in delivering the blow. Saul knelt next to Lyra, his eyes hardly believing what they saw, but with a howl, Saul rushed onto Eros without so much as bothering to retrieve his now fallen weapon. Eros was taken by surprise by the sudden attack, but soon Saul too knelt in death right next to his beloved Lyra.
Stooping to clean his blood blade on the coat of his now dead enemy, Eros whispered into the corpse’s ear. “Saul, impertinent fool, you may have your wife.” Yet even as he steeped away to escape his now burning household, Eros could not help but remark the identical looks of peace that was on both of the dead. Dear reader, may it be known that Saul finally received his wish, for his was once again with Lyra, but only gained his revenge by the price of death, his own death. Therefore, it is always with any man who seeks a bloody revenge with his own hands. Revenge has a price, that price is death, and in this story, the Revenger paid the price with his own blood.
Yet that old sinner, Eros, did not go without punishment. The police force, such as it was in the city of Liberia, had come in almost full force drawn to the attention and havoc that the fire had made on Eros’ house. The men who arrived were able to save Eros’ house, but upon exploring the devastation of the building, the men found paintings, sculptures, jewels, and all the other items that seemed to have disappeared through the years in the city of Liberia. In addition, the men had also found the bodies of Lyra and Saul. The women also that Lyra had freed had returned to their homes, and had all signed written declarations saying that Eros was the captor. No longer able to deny the sins, which Eros had committed, dispatched standing warrants for his arrest. The Hall, even Madam Eugene Hattie Silverrod, had disband Eros’ chair and declared him an outlaw of their country.
Many long months later, Eros finally captured. The trial was held quickly after the wanted criminal was found, but would it find Eros guilty? Eros was sure that no such thing would ever happen to him. Money in a juries pocket would always bring a ruling in your favor, and although Eros was a little short on funds at the moment the promise of money sometimes had the same effect as the real thing.
Therefore, the Jury had a decision to make at the end of the trial, the evidence found in what remained of Eros’ house pointed to the subject’s guilt, yet the azure promise of gold sang to their ears like a siren. If they ruled Eros innocent, surely the wealth of Eros would be theirs, after all they had their families to think of.
DP: What did the Jury Rule? Be creative in punishments if you rule Eros guilty, and if he is found innocent think of other ways Eros might be punished. This is a lesson in human justice, so treat as such.
Also does, Lyra’s child escape safely? If so, where does the woman go?
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Sat Sep 16, 2006 1:37 am Post subject: |
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A dramatic episode Dinner! WOooOOooOO! 
You need to watch your repetitions still, there are a quite a few. A couple of looking likes and meanwhiles for example.
As for justice. Pah, justice is a sham. Of course he will bribe the jury and get off scott free. The kid will have been taken by one of the harem who was a friend of Lyra, so is safe at least.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Sun Sep 17, 2006 7:30 am Post subject: |
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| Yes, I think he could be acquitted of the killings, but the stolen goods and the kidnappings and slavery charges could send him to prison for a long time.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Sep 22, 2006 11:05 am Post subject: |
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Polls up and all the options I was given was added. Except the next chapter sometime next week. Until later,
Smores,
Dinranwen
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Sep 25, 2006 11:41 am Post subject: |
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Tied vote, so....go ahead and break it.
And while your at it. *Sets out horribly ugly pot* **Break this too, it's good for the temper and it is guarenteed to amuse until the the new chapter comes out.
**Did I mention that it was a magically pot that automatically heals itself after it's been broken?
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Sep 25, 2006 7:04 pm Post subject: |
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Do technicalities I rather not deal with, ** I broke the tie with the post included here. I hope you like the result. New chapter should *crosses fingers* be out soon.
Thanks everyone for their support. By the way, if you never like the dp's before hand or thought this story was getting boring, hang on to your seatbelt folks because this here sg is about to take a turn none of you expected.
My poll closed before I wanted it to, and I felt to lazy to post another.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Sep 25, 2006 8:05 pm Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | hang on to your seatbelt folks because this here sg is about to take a turn none of you expected. |
~Grabs for seatbelt~
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Sat Sep 30, 2006 7:45 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter 8: Death-in-Life
Eros looked over the jury scanning over each face with a kind of vile joy. No jury would declare him guilty not while his Aunt held the Second Chair in the Hall.
The proof to his theory was soon evidenced as the Jury as one stood and faced him. Pulling out a piece of paper the first jury member, read the following after receiving a nod from the judge to precede, “We find Eros Calmar innocent of all charges.”
Smiling Eros pushed his chair away from the table, he was free, or so he thought. In the back of the room a strange voice arose, “You declare the guilty, innocent? How dare you? This man is a thief. He took your daughters hostage, he spoiled their youth, their beauty, their innocence, and you will let him go? This man had servants from the illegal market. If this man is innocent than the vilest criminal is also.” The voice was that off Capron’s.
Eros turned scowling at Capron, “I am an innocent man, and the jury declares it so.”
Now it was Capron’s turn to smile, “Will you swear to that?”
“Yes, I will swear.”
Tossing the Enlayian bible, a vile book of fairytales at most, towards Eros Capron spoke once again. “Then so swear, and if you swear falsely that is between you and your god, between you and your conscience if you have any left.”
Picking up the book Eros raised his right hand on it, and opened his mouth to speak but then shout it just as quickly. Closely his eyes briefly, Eros waved his hand in front of them also as if he could not quite believe what he was seeing. “I thought they were dead, I thought they were all dead. I paid for them to be killed, why are they not dead?”
Yelling frantically, Eros turned to the Judge, “Tell me do you see them? Do you see? Tell them I am innocent. Innocent I say.”
“Leave me only, I’m innocent, leave me be,” Eros said as flayed about him as if to protect himself from an unseen attack, “No! No! Do not, please do not. Do not touch me; do not try to take me with you. I don’t deserve this, I’m innocent!”
Pushing himself against the Jury box Eros turned to face everyone in the court, “If it is the truth you want, then fine, I did it. I killed you, foul spirits. I stole from each and every one of you, but man has redeemed me you can’t touch me.”
Screaming one last time, Eros died in that courtroom a guilty man trying to convince himself he was innocent and had failed.
~ ~ ~
A splash of water echoed in a cold chamber causing a rat to scatter into a corner. On top of stone slab a still body was laid wrapped in the clothes it wore when died.
A small ray of light spread into the room carried by a monk in brown robes and a bald head. Walking with grim steps towards the body, the monk wore a small smile as his light spread across the still features of the late Eros.
The monk stood silently next the body as if waiting for something.
The corpse moaned and blinked opening his eyes and muttering he said, “Where am I?”
Gesturing with the candle the monk spread the light into the far corners of the room illumaniting corpses in various states of decomposition. “You’re in the cantocombs to be precise.”
“I am not dead am I?” Eros said almost whimpering.
The monk laughed, “Hardly. Or else you wouldn’t be talking to me now would you?”
“Then how did I get here!” Eros shouted seating up.
“Let’s just say it was more convient for the church for you to be dead, not to mention someone paid us to get rid of you, and very handsomely too.”
“Capron.”
“I don’t know his name, but from the way you said it, probably.” The monk said.
“How?”
“We slipped some drugs into your water. Not enough to kill you, but enough to make it look like you were dead?”
“Remind me to kill you when I get out of here,” Eros muttered.
The monk laughed loudly, “I don’t think your going anywhere, after all your dead remember. All I have to do is to stick a knife in your chest and no one would be the wiser.”
Eros glared at the monk knowing he spoke true. Even if he managed to overpower this monk, he was official declared dead and no one would help him even if they didn’t immediately scream ghost.
“What do you want?”
Last edited by dinranwen on Tue Dec 12, 2006 1:31 pm; edited 1 time in total
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2006 6:56 pm Post subject: |
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Any comments, suggestions, corrections?
Any comments, suggestions, or ideas of why I'm not getting any comments, suggestions or ideas? I really am stuck at this point. This was my last prewritten chapter and like most of my stories I've gotten a major case of writers block. I think it's mostly because I was never practicalaurly good at planning illegal events.
Another part of the road block was trying to figure out how to make the transition between the story being about Lyra and Saul to being about the unnamed Maiden. I really should name her, I know, but I thought it might be better if I saved the secret of her name until the last chapter.
Can anyone help me out here?
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JezSharp
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| Posted: Wed Oct 18, 2006 12:03 am Post subject: |
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Well I'd say she should marry Saul's brother or submit to the church's rules if she's sensible.
Otherwise...start a publicity campaign. Get the facts out there - begin a revolt of the masses, she's a young attractive widow who has been persecuted through no fault of her own. Most of the peolple seem to God fearing, kind sensible people and even those that aren't will probably be willing to support her cause.
That's one suggestion anyway.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Wed Oct 18, 2006 10:22 am Post subject: |
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I'm a bit confused. Why would the evil church rulers want her to stay in Enlayia, and why would Saul's brother agree to this? I thought he was saving the farm in another country.
I'm also not sure why Samuel is telling her she has a choice, if she can't make the meeting in time and they will go ahead and do whatever it is when she doesn't show up?
I think Samuel should suggest escape to Saul's brother's country, and help her do it. If she meets the brother and gets along with him, so much the better - he loved her sister and she loved his brother; maybe they can find happiness together. Maybe they can even rescue the baby somehow.
A few words confusing me: covenant - do you mean convent?
realized - released?
adulterous - adultress
requital - ????
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Oct 18, 2006 11:39 am Post subject: |
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I may need to correct this story a little.
As for your questions Mother Goose until I can figure out a way to conviently slip in the explanation of the churches reasons for it's action and will just have to explain it here.
The Enlayian Church is very simlar to the Catholic Church during the inquistion. The more people that fear them, the better. Right now the Enlayian Goverment looks bad right now and realizing their advantage their reaching out to someone the general populace might view as the victim of the Goverment's curroptness. The Church is trying to make themselves look like the good guys despite the fact that the church is actually the ones truly respondable for the Maiden's problems and hundreds of other widows.
The Church is also a non-profit organization; all this means is that the Church takes what it wants and what it can't take it grows. Now a proper churchman can't be spotted in the fields all dirty since dirt is the sign of impurity, so they take in the poor. Most of the churches make the poor earn their stay, forgivness also can be purchased by hard labour, creating a mass of slaves that believe there is no way they can be forgiven by the Church unless they slave in the church fields for the rest of their lives.
Some churches even reduce their 'servants' to near death by working them in poor conditions from dawn to dusk for days without food or rest. Some are better than others, but you never know which kind of church you step into until it's too late.
What does the Church gain by handing the Maiden not only an impossible choice but make it impossible for her to get there?
Simple. They need someone to blame. Rumors are floating about in Enlayia. Rumors that suggestion that the church is as curropt as the goverment. The Enlayian Priesthood wishes to halt that rumor, but they also want the disfaction of the people towards the goverment to continue. The Church elders smell the possibilty of a revolt, their chance to grap the reigns of Enlayia, their not going to let that past them.
How does this envolve the Maiden? Quite simple. The Church has made it's move to help her, their now the good guys, yet when they say the goverment prevented the message from reaching the girl on time, people start angry but not at them, at the goverment.
Of course the Maiden will be given every chance from the church but time and time again, something might occur that will hinder still her still more and like the times before this the goverment will be blamed. The Church then plans on revealing several curropt officials adding fuel to the fire already burning.
Then once the Church has the people just where they want them, the church will reveal the sad and true tale of this poor decieved devil possesed girl, that she cast as spell on Saul causing him to marry her while he still knew that his wife was alive. Eros' mysterious death could also be blamed on her, naming the maiden a witch.
Once the church has the people convinenced the maiden is a witch, they will burn her at the stake leading to a nation wide revile and a nation wide witch hunt. The Church will be able to legally kill any person they want to get rid of. Convient isn't it.
Of course the church will be willing to not do all this if the Maiden pays enough, something which, trust me, there will never be enough gold in the world to avoid.
So the Maiden's in a quandrem. She nows the church is must likely trying to trick her, but she also knows that if she doesn't at least try she is condemned.
Does that help?
I tried figure a way out to include it, but I was never really good at conspiracies within stories.
As for the rest, I fix what I can find as usual. I seem to have problems not with mispelling words, but using correctly spelled words just not the right ones.
Thanks again guys.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 4:35 pm Post subject: |
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I have recently put in a request to move this story into the Linear Forum, so that I continue to improve and write it at leisure. I realize that it needs a lot of work, which is why I decided to ask for it to be moved. I would feel how lot comfortable adjusting my mistakes if I didn't have worry about going aganist my voters at the same time.
Sorry about the inconvience,
Dinranwen
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 6:09 pm Post subject: |
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Well, I think she should just up and leave. Escape to a better place if that is possible.
Quite a few errors in this one Dinny, not up to your usual grammatical standard! 
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Masterweaver
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 6:43 pm Post subject: |
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Ditto, but not so blunt. She should try going along, but not mention she's fingering a poisen knife...
Good story, shadowlady!
_________________
Sarothen, Mesoli, Gerastro
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(0)-_-(0)
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Nov 29, 2006 9:32 am Post subject: |
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[Curtesies] Thank you, Masterweaver. I appreciate the comment.
Before I release a new chapter, I am going to do a major overhaul on this chapter, [you were right Chinaren, this last chapter is not up to my usual standards] and then I am going to post it again, for everyone's hungery eyes, and then I will format the poll with options already posted here.
Thanks for being patient everyone...I had to take a hiatus, but now I have abousetly genius idea [in my eyes] at least about what to do with this story.
Let's just say something major will change in this last chapter, so keep your eye out of the repost of it, and don't worry, I'll be a good girl and post to notify everyone when it's posted.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2006 1:33 pm Post subject: |
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Okay, different Dp than I planned but still it works.
Here's the Dp for the Release of Chapter 8:
What does the church want from Eros?
Feel free to be creative.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2006 5:01 pm Post subject: |
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The monks believe (probably with reason) that Eros has a secret emergency stash of money and jewels that nobody else knows about - sort of like a pirate's buried treasure. That's why they cheated Capron, if it was he who paid them, and kept Eros alive long enough to get his secret. Of course, when they do get the treasure, they'll complete the bargain and kill him then.
Eros seems a more likely target for the church's evil designs than a nameless, friendless, penniless maiden.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Thu Dec 14, 2006 12:27 pm Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | Eros seems a more likely target for the church's evil designs than a nameless, friendless, penniless maiden. |
*Smiles*My thoughts exactly Mother Goose. That was exactly the reason I changed the chapter. I thought it would be more believable this way.
I hope everyone enjoyed this version of this chapter than the other one I posted before, and I trust it was at least somewhat of an improvement.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Dec 19, 2006 5:24 pm Post subject: |
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| Poll is up. Vote, Vote, Vote!
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 7:32 am Post subject: |
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It's a tie! Poll will run for a few more days, and if still isn't broken, an executive decision will be made.
Thanks everyone for their patience and Votes!
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Masterweaver
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| Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 1:10 pm Post subject: |
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Them= church has enough honer not to employee to do crime.
_________________
Sarothen, Mesoli, Gerastro
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(0)-_-(0)
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Tue Jan 02, 2007 8:20 pm Post subject: |
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| Still a tie, so I am going to make an executive decesion and brake it myself. New chappie will be up in a few days.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Feb 09, 2007 2:24 pm Post subject: |
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First of all, I would like to apologize. After numerous attempts of writing chapter 9 I found I had a minor case of writer's block, but only for this story.
However, Chatper 9 is now coming along nicely and should be up before the end of next week.
Secondly, Thank you for being patient, and Thank you for reading this sg.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Feb 19, 2007 11:23 am Post subject: |
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Chapter 9: Thieves in Sackcloth
The Monk grinned from ear to ear as he heard three little words that brought him great pleasure, three little words that meant the surrender of a once great foe.
“Simple. We know that what we found in your ‘home’ was nowhere near to everything you’ve stolen throughout the years. Our guess that you have hidden it somewhere in Enlayia. It would be to both our advantages if you disclosed the place where it is. The church needs such a generous donation to continue in its mission to convert the ‘natives’ of foreign countries. I am sure such a man would be more than willing to support such a cause especially if such support can perhaps buy him a little spiritual creditability to cancel all the sins you’ve committed over the years.”
Eros grunted. “I am sure that’s not all.”
“No, we also would like to ‘purchase’ your services.”
“Really, whatever for.”
“As you know, certain ‘hall members’ have become rather bothersome about the Church’s ‘gentle guiding hand along the path righteousness’. Lately, since your ‘trial’ these members have become more than annoying. They seem to think that we had some association with you. We would like you to convince these members to a different point of view, if you take my meaning.”
“Crystal Clear Priest, Crystal.”
~ ~ ~
Meanwhile in the church above the catacombs, a few monks gathered to witness the ‘death’ of young widow.
Three monks with shaved heads who wore brown sackcloth sat on miniature thrones in the small chamber room where a small crowd was gathered to witness the event. The first priest, obviously higher ranking than the others by the large hat on his head, had a record book in his hand with a ready pen held in the other. The second, a fat blotchy figure, was looking rather bored as he twirled with a pair of scissors. The third, and lowest ranking, wore a smile that made one sick to look at. In his hands, a large needle filled with ink trembled almost eagerly as it tried to leap from its holder’s hand.
The young widow who was the center of everyone’s attention trembled in the course black shapeless dress she wore as a black veil fluttered near her face. Looking up, the young woman only hoped that the veil hid the fear in her eyes, and the red streaks of her face from a long month of tears.
The helpless girl had recently received news of three tragedies in the same day over a month before this trial. The death of her husband, the death of her sister, and the accusation of adultery all wore heavily on her shoulders. For this young widow was indeed the sister of Lyra and the wife of Saul.
“Lyra Saul Manasseh, you stand accused of Adultery, perjury, and marrying under false pretenses.” The monk with the giant hat intoned, “How do you plead?”
“Innocent, sir.”
“Very well.” The monk said opening the book. “It has been the charge of the monks you see to your right,” he said gesturing to the small crowd of men in sackcloth towards Lyra’s right, “to oversee your chase. If you have nothing to say in your defense, they will now declare their findings.”
“I have nothing to say, sir.” Lyra said nearly chocking on the words as she turned her eyes pleadingly toward the men who would her jury.
“That it is well. It suits a woman to be silent in the company of men not her father, brother, or her husband.” Turning to the jury, “What have you found?”
“In the case of the surrogate Lyra Saul Manasseh, we find that neither the girl, nor her father, nor her husband, had any knowledge that her sister was alive. We therefore declare as innocent. It is our advice that we take the appropriate actions for the traditional undead widows.” Pausing the head jurymen indicated the door to be opened, “However there is the issue of the child.” The door opened to reveal a nun carrying a small child. “It is our belief that this child was the product of Lyra’s and Saul’s Marriage. We also found that in the child’s possession was a small scroll indicating the inheritance it had received from his father. The inheritance includes all the money Saul’s widow now owns, a small cabin outside Ebn-dar with a small orchard, and a small wood caving business.”
“This complicates things a little,” the hat monk growled low. “I don’t like complicated.”
“This is why the jury has decided that since that this girl is its mother by the books, and since she is dead the child is also dead. The inheritance therefore automatically goes to the church. If it pleases the church, the widow will be given the child, and if she so chooses, we recommend, that she is housed with the child in the sanctuary of the dead in the northern Silver Lake providence. There she will be provided with a small room, food, in return for her payments and work on the farms of the church.”
The man brightened a little and looked at the maid who had taken the small child of two from the nun.
“You have heard the declaration of the church. What say you?”
The maid looked up at her persecutors. “I say that the monks of the Enlayia’s Church are nothing but thieves in sackcloth who have done nothing but take advantage of the poor and disadvantaged.”
An audible gasp went through the church and several of the monks shouted only to be silenced by the hat monk. “Silence.” The hat monk said turning bright red. “Members of the Jury what say you to such blasphemy!”
The head jury member stood and shakes his fist at the young maiden, “We say that any who hate the church so much, also hates the country. Throw the infidel out of the country, we say!”
Gathering up the bag she had brought with her to the church, the maiden steadied the child she had on her hip. “No need to throw anyone. I’ll leave by myself. I have no desire to remain in the presence of thieves who kept the company of those who killed my sister.”
Thus saying the unnamed maiden left the church leaving the shouting monks behind her without ever turning back.
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Thu Feb 22, 2007 6:13 pm Post subject: |
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Congratulations on a finished story, Dinny! Lots of people never reach that goal. It can't be easy to write a story with a lot of other people adding their own ideas about what should happen next!
Well done. Keep writing.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Mon Feb 26, 2007 1:22 pm Post subject: |
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((Thanks Mother Goose for your comments and your loyalty. One last hurray before I tie everything up:))
Epilogue: Reason to Live
It seems strange how things can change in someone's life in such a short time. Yet it had happened. Her life had changed, and she didn't know if it was for better or worse, she didn't know yet but her life had change.
Lifting her dark green eyes up to suvey the green land of Gilead, the older sister of Lyra lifted her small squirming burden as she walked down the road wondering what would become of her.
There was much to consider.
In one short year of her own life, the maide experienced her sister's (Lyra) marriage and death, married Saul herself, become an Aunt, lost her own life in Lyra's only to regain it again.
To be honest, she was just a little overwhelmed by it all.
Who was she anyway? Twenty years of her life had been consumed with the knowledge that she was a mistake before the marriage of her parents, a living proff of their own disappointment, and as a result second best to her sister who marked their accompishments, their joys, and happiness. Then in what seemed like a year that lasted forever, she had become someone, she had become her sister. She had become to being her sister, she had forgotten herself.
Now with her sisters death, and in a strange way, her own death, she had lost the only identy she had ever really enjoyed, the identy of being someone she wasn't.
So who was she?
According to the church, she was nobody, she was dead to them, and infedile to boot.
Thinking about was enough to make her cry. Infact it reminded her of an old poem her mother often song to her at night,
On the Lyre of Life,
Carefully Strung,
Are the Tears our Hearts have wrung,
Tears of Joy,
Tears of Sorrow,
But grievous of all,
Tears that but hung,
In our eyes unshed,
Unwept, Unsung,
Yet still hanging there,
Only in our souls,
Doth do they seep,
For some pains are yet to deep.
The gest of the poem was to forget, to hide everything, and never bring up old memories. Somehow the maiden knew that this wouldn't work for her.
Of course, she could always look at it the other way. While she had may have lost everything, including herself, she had gained something without price.
She had gained a nephew, and in a strange way a son.
In her arms, smiling with wide eyes for once, a beautiful brown haired green eyed toddler laughed at her as she smiled back at him. Looking upwards, she silent thanked her savior above for this small bright eyed gift, smelly diapers and all, for this little boy was just what she needed to keep her smiling if only for his sake.
For the knowledge of a Father above, a child below was enough to give this maiden two very good reasons to live.
~ ~ ~
[b] Although the beginning of this story didn't seem enough to change a nation, the unnamed maiden lived on to finish her story on her own...and some say that the rest of this tale is continued in the roll which is enscribed with:
What Maiden is This?
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Mar 09, 2007 12:58 pm Post subject: |
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Now that this story is finished...I would like to hear everyone's comments and critizisms.
It would me and my writing greatly if you could point out the faults of this story.
What did I do wrong?
What should I have done deferinetly?
Is there anything I could have added/changed to improve this story?
Any suggestions for my next storygames?
And lastly?
What did I do right?
What did you enjoy the most about Tear Strung Lyre?
I will be taking accurate notes. Hopefully your comments will help me approve as a writer, so thank you in advance.
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2007 11:04 am Post subject: |
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Thanks everyone for their comments....*crickets chirp*
Oh well...if it really was that bad. *Even the Crickets leave, and Din clears her throat*
Well, anyway, thanks anyway. I really enjoyed writing this even if you didn't like reading it...and although I admit the end wasn't the best at least it's done. My first Story Ever!
*claps self on back*
A request has been made for this Thread to be moved to the Achieves so if you don't see TSL in Fantasy Forest, that's proably where it is.
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No time now, so will come back to this one.