OK, this is a story that I started writing. I need some feedback to let me know whether I should continue writing it. Be as critical as you like.
I do not have a name for the story yet.
I also made a little
world map that might come in handy when reading.
Chapter I
It was dark tonight. Much too dark for a night this late in the month. Normally the moonlight would be shinning through Tegdaen?s window, casting a playful shadow on his wall as the leaves rustle in the trees outside his room. Tegdaen lay in his warm bed watching the branches outside his window as he thought about the events that awaited him tomorrow.
It was only that morning when Tegdaen was out in the woods near his house, hunting for something to roast for dinner, when his best friend Fiola came running up to him. ?Teg, Teg, come quickly! Teg, come on, you gotta see this!?
?What is it?? Teg growled in anger as she scared away the wild boar that he was about to pierce between the eyes with one of his home-made arrows.
?A stranger? she explained with a wide grin on her face.
?A stranger?? Tegdaen questioned.
?Raffmon just got back from town. He told me of a stranger staying at Tyr?s rest?
Tyr?s rest was the name of the largest and only Inn in Glaciroy. You see, Glaciroy was a very small town. It was home mainly to woodelves, however there is also a small group of dwarves living in the town as well. The dwarves and the woodelves are quite friendly toward one-another. The Dwarves do most of the physical work in the town, while the elves are better at the finer arts, like weaving, crafts and the bow. It is in this way that they have co-existed for as long as any records show.
It is because of the geographical placement of Glaciroy, that they don?t get many Visitors. Glaciroy is attached to the main land by a very impassable stretch of land. To the North, East and South, is water for as far as any boat can travel. To the West lies barren lands, snow capped mountains and is rumoured to be populated by all kinds of unfriendly creatures. The dwarves of Glaciroy tell tales of when their ancestors ruled those lands from deep inside the mountains. Legend has it that the dwarves once lived in an underground city carved out by dwarven miners thousands and thousands of years ago. No one knows what happened to the great dwarven empire, but the Dwarves of Glaciroy dream of the day that it will come back into power.
Excited by this news of a stranger in Glaciroy, Tegdaen and Fiola, agreed to travel into town to meet him.
Chapter II
As the sun peeked over the dark mountains the next morning, Tegdaen was out saddling his horse, Valos. Tegdaen bought Valos from a merchant that came in by sea, sometime last year. The merchant said that Valos was the offspring of a warhorse that led a great commander into many victorious war campaigns. Tegdaen did not know if there was any truth to this story, he just thought that the merchant was trying to make a bit of extra gold for his trip back out of Glaciroy. What Tegdaen did know however, was that Valos was a fine horse, who could outrun any he had ever seen.
Tegdaen met up with Fiola on the Western road, and they left immediately. Fiola, as Tegdaen had, had trouble sleeping the previous night. They could not stop wondering what this person was doing here in Glaciroy. No one ever stopped here, except the occasional merchant, come to trade goods. Fiola and Tegdaen had each packed clothes for a few days and enough silver for accommodation and meals at the Inn. As they rode, they talked of memories past, times to come, and other frivolous little things like, favourite weapons and who could hold their breath under water longest.
At about noon, that day, Fiola and Teg were un-saddling their horses and tying them up in the stables at Tyr?s rest. They did this very hurriedly as they wanted to get back outside where all the commotion was. It seemed as though everyone else wanted to see this stranger as well.
?What?s going on?? Tegdaen asked Gojova the Blacksmith.
?He arrived last night? said the burly man. ?No one knows how he got here. Someone would have seen him if he came in by boat. I say he must have come through the mountains, though I don?t know how anyone could do it alone.?
?He is in his room in the Inn at the moment? said Gojova?s wife, Darla. ?He hasn?t been out yet this morning.?
?No wonder. I wouldn?t want to face all these people? replied Gojova.
Fiola and Tegdaen started to make their way through the crowd, aiming to get into the Inn. They wanted to go pay for a room, so they could put their packs down, and hopefully catch a glimpse of the stranger too. Just as they were nearing the front of the crowd, coming up to the main entrance, the doors burst open. Out stepped the stranger. He was very tall. Not as tall as some of the elves in Glaciroy, but still very tall for a human. He carried with him a staff that reached taller than his head. On the end of the staff was a small statue of a dragon. The dragon looked as though it was made of bronze, but had been worn to a very dull colour, and did not look very spectacular anymore. The man wore a long, dark red, cloak. Somewhat like the colour of the desert sand. It was hard to put an age to the stranger. As he gazed around the gathering of villagers, he looked old and frail, yet young and energetic at the same time. Youthful, yet wise.
?Welcome, sir? said Wenhurst, head of the village council. ?Welcome to Glaciroy.? ?Respect our people and our lands, and we will in turn respect you.?
The stranger nodded his head in the direction of Wenhurst, but his eyes were still roaming the crowd, as though searching for someone he had never seen before.
?And what might your business, in our fine town, be?? Wenhurst queried the man.
The stranger finally took his eyes off the villagers and focused them on Wenhurst. He leaned forward slowly, then said in a quiet, but deep voice, ?May we have a little privacy??
?Of course, of course.? Wenhurst said quickly. ?Would you like a drink??
The two men walked back into the common room of the Inn. As soon as the large double doors closed behind them, the crowd erupted into a million different conversations.
?I wonder what he?s doing here??
?Why would he want privacy?? said some of the villagers.
?His beard was as long as a dwarf?s!? said another.
?Did you see his cloak?? Fiola said.
?Did you see his staff?? said one of the dwarves.
?He looked at me! Did you see him look at me?? said one of the children standing with her mother.
It was generally agreed that this strange man was a mage. Something that everyone had heard tales about, but no one had ever seen. Most of the tales were about powerful, evil mages, capable of destroying cities with a sweep of an arm. No one actually believed that there could be evil like that staying in the heart of Glaciroy, so they were not scared, just excited.
?Maybe he?s a good mage? said a little girl to her older brother.
Fiola and Tegdaen, after hearing everything there was to here, and talking about it to some friends that they bumped into, went into the Inn to get their room. As they stepped into the common room, they saw what they usually saw. The Inn was almost empty. On the far wall was a large fireplace, with a long sword mounted above it on the wall. This was supposedly the sword of Tyr. Tyr was the founder of Glaciroy. He started it from nothing, and died, forty years later, defending it from cave trolls that came down from the mountains in search of food. Tyr put up such a fight, that 500 years later, the cave trolls had still not come back. In his time, Tyr saw Glaciroy grow from a small farm, to a reasonable sized village. In the 500 years since Tyr?s death the village had barely grown in size. The spot where Tyr?s rest now stands, is the exact spot where Tyr died and was buried, hence the name.
The walls of the common room were decorated with various other memorabilia. In the corner of the room, sitting around the smallest table was Wenhurst, Alraan the Innkeeper and village council member, and the mysterious mage. The mage was talking casually, while Wenhurst listened with great intent. Alraan sat off to the side, watching the mage, like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.
As soon as the bell on the door rang, Alraan snapped out of his gaze, and came over to serve Fiola and Teg.
?If you?ve come to speak to Therradan, he?s busy at the moment? he said.
?Therradan? So that?s his name?? Tegdaen said ?No, we?ve come to book a room, and to fill our bellies.?
?Oh, well in that case, take a seat over by the fire.? Alraan instructed with a broad smile ?I?ll go prepare your rooms, and Legella will be out soon with your meals.?
Alraan always did like Tegdaen. He saw a type of strength in him that no one else saw. He always said how much he reminded him of his mother, Jerendra. She could knock you down with her cold hard stare, yet was warm as a fire on a winter?s night.
Over to the fireplace they walked, trying to look at Therradan from the corner of their eyes, without being noticed. They sat down at a table and waited. They did not talk, for they did not know what to say. They wanted to talk about Therradan, the mysterious mage, but that would have to wait until they were alone, and out of earshot.
So tell me, would you read on?
