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@lady-iliara Welcome to Kingdom Pen! We always need more E(xtrovert)’s here! 😉
Hi @emma-flournoy @lifeofkatie !
Yes I KNOW @aislinn-mollisong! It’s so much fun! 😁😁👰🏻🦊💥
ENFJ-T. Arbitrary. Greet at your own risk. *trips on a rock*@daeus @kate-flournoy @catwing @daughteroftheking @aislinn-mollisong @xonos-darkgrate @silverclaw-bonnetfolly @salome01w4g @anyone who wants to
Would you mind critiquing a chapter of my “Alex and Ian” story for me? I generally feel like my stories are missing something—sometimes I call it emotion, or description, or maybe not enough character depth? I dunno. I’m just looking for someone who’s willing to go through it with a red pen and tell me honestly everything they see. Don’t worry about offending me…I’d rather have an honest opinion than a flattering one. 😉
Here it is:Chapter One
The morning sun had risen above the trees.
Alex blinked. The sun was bright on his face, and uncomfortable. He yawned and reached for his blanket. Groping for several seconds, he didn’t feel it anywhere near. Groaning, he sat up halfway and looked around him.
His blanket was gone. His horse was gone. His pack was gone. In fact, everything was gone, except for his boots. Alex jumped to his feet in alarm and looked around him.
“What in the world’s happened!” he exclaimed. He whistled for his horse. No answer. Somebody must have come and made off with all his belongings. Alex looked down at where he had been sleeping and then to his boots. Then why did they leave my boots? he wondered.
“If they left my boots, they didn’t find my dagger either,” he said aloud. He picked up his left boot and reached into the secret pocket, but he didn’t feel the hilt of his dagger. In disgust he threw the boot down again. Neither of the boots was really in the best condition; they’d been patched, stained, washed, and re-patched. Probably why the thieves didn’t take them.
Alex sighed. Besides everything else, they’d taken his pack and therefore his map, which was maybe the most important thing he’d lost. He’d been in Meroth once before, but he’d been going to a major town, following a clear road, and he hadn’t needed a map.
Don’t think about what you’ve lost, Alex told himself. You’ve been on plenty of missions like this before. Think! What do you remember of the map?
He was following the Barle River northeast. Somewhere—a few miles north, he guessed—it fell into a deep ravine and gushed away to the east. He needed to cross that ravine, and somewhere north of that he would find the city where his contact was waiting.
“Oh, why didn’t I try to memorize that map?! Idiot!” he berated himself. “Come on, you’re a spy! You put information in your brain, not on paper!”
When trouble hits you, you’ve got to move, not wait for the next punch. That was one of his favorite sayings, Alex thought with a slight smile. He’d been sitting around, but he needed to start moving again. At least I don’t have to go barefoot, he thought, looking at his boots. Maybe in the city I can get a horse and weapons.
For about three hours, Alex walked along the river. He’d told King Berlan it would take him about two weeks, hopefully less, to accomplish the mission. He’d allowed for delays in that time frame, but not this sort of delay. He’d be lucky if he got to the city in 2 weeks, much less returned to Ardrahan. That won’t stand well for my reputation, he thought glumly. It’s part of my job description to get things done quickly.
“It’s part of my job description to be resourceful!” Alex said aloud. “Surely there’re farms around here. They’d share food with a hungry traveler. And I could borrow a knife to make a new bow.”
If there were farms near to him, he reasoned, there would probably be footpaths leading to the river, since every farm needed water. With this in mind, Alex set his eyes to looking for any traces of a path. And, soon, he found one that led east. There were no footprints as far as he could tell, but he wasn’t an expert tracker, and the ground was dry anyway. Footprints might not even show up.
Alex decided it was worth checking out. However, after twenty minutes, he walked into a natural clearing. Two deer bounced away, startled. Alex watched them disappear, and then looked around him.
“Well, this is nice,” he said, shaking his head. The “path” was just a deer trail. He turned to go, and then he realized he wasn’t sure exactly which direction he’d come from. “And that’s nicer,” Alex said. He rolled his eyes and kicked the ground. “I should have kept track of where I was going.”
Suddenly, he lifted his head. Was that smoke he smelled? “Smoke means people!” he said excitedly. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.” He began to run, crashing through bushes and little saplings. But what met his eyes was a small wooden house going up in flames. Alex stared, shocked, and then he rushed toward the door, ready to rescue whoever was within.
Just as he reached the steps of the house, a hand jerked him back by his collar and began pulling him back. Startled, he caught hold of the arm of whoever was dragging him and tried to regain his feet. Immediately, another hand came round and punched him in the jaw. Dazed, Alex let go of the arm.
“Bring me rope, quick,” the man said. Before Alex could act, his hands were tied behind his back and he was blindfolded. Dragged to his feet, Alex found he was being forced to walk.
“Who are you?” he asked. Immediately he felt a cold blade against his throat.
“The one who stole your dagger,” replied a voice, cold as the blade. “Don’t talk.”
The threat of the knife was enough to convince Alex to stop, but he turned his attention to what he could hear. It sounded as if he were in a large group of people moving through the forest, but there was not much talking, and he couldn’t hear what there was of it. He tried to figure out roughly where he was going by using the warmth of the sun on his face, but with the forest all around, any light was patchy as it fell on his blindfold. And it might not have helped anyway, since he didn’t know the country around here and his only landmark was the river.
Finally, after a fast march, Alex was thrown to the ground. He attempted to sit up, but his captor shoved him down again. “Should I take the blindfold off?” the man called.
“Not yet, Dagan,” someone else answered from further away. “Wait till everything’s put up. You can take him to council then.”
Take me to council? Alex wondered. Will I be able to reason with them? However, since he couldn’t answer that question, he listened to what was going on around him. There was mooing and grunting, by which Alex guessed they must have taken the farm’s livestock. And from what the man Dagan had said, it seemed he’d been captured by the same group of thieves that had made off with his horse and weapons, among other things.
It’s a real pity they found my dagger, thought Alex. I might have been able to get away if I still had it. He made a mental correction. I will still get away—somehow.
He was suddenly hoisted to his feet and hustled into a darkened area—it must be some sort of hut, he guessed. The blindfold was taken off.
Alex was not in a hut, but rather what seemed to be a well-built house, with walls of stone and a timber roof. A man whom he guessed to be Dagan stood close to the door, while five other men were standing behind a fire directly in front of Alex.
“Thanks, Dagan,” said the nearest man. “You can join the others, if you want. We’ll take care of him now.”
Dagan only nodded. He eyed Alex menacingly, then turned and strode away.
“I’m Richard. You’re before the Council,” said the man who had spoken before, turning his attention to Alex. “We need to decide what to do with you, you know. We don’t welcome strangers.” He moved forward, and the firelight glinted on the clasp of his cloak and his belt buckle. They looked to be made of pure silver.
Hoping to delay any decisions, Alex asked, “What exactly is the council?”
“We five are the Council. We decide what to do about ‘important matters.’”
“So you are the ones who started this thing up? Recruited some followers and set about pillaging?” Alex hoped he could stall them long enough to think of some escape plan. So far he’d considered grabbing a piece of wood from the fire to use as a weapon, but with his bound hands, it wouldn’t be hard for five men to get him back under control.
“Hardly. We’re elected.”
“Elected?” Alex blinked, genuinely surprised. “By whom?”
“By everyone else, of course.” Richard rolled his eyes.
“Can we get on with the execution?” another of the five said, tapping his foot on the ground.
“We haven’t decided on that just yet,” Richard said, moving forward and sitting beside the fire, closer to Alex.
“But why not kill him?” asked a third man.
“Because he may have some valuable information about Ardrahan. I know some people who would pay a pretty price for that sort of information.”
“I don’t know anything important about Ardrahan,” said Alex. “I’m a messenger from Gask, on—family business.”
“A king’s messenger, are you?” Richard’s interest heightened considerably. He leaned toward Alex.
“No, not an official messenger. I mean I’m the one who keeps contact between our clan. They’ve split up over the years, and some of us went to Meroth, most of the rest stayed in—”
“Now that’s the likeliest story I ever heard!” Richard laughed derisively. “I’ve heard of no clan here that came from Ardrahan. No Ardhon ever comes to Meroth, unless they’re on special business.”
“And you were on special business, weren’t you?” another one of the Council said. “We’ve seen your weapons. They aren’t common make. Now tell us the truth.”
Pretending to resign himself to telling the truth, Alex said, “Well, truth be told, I’m a land surveyor. Some of us are looking at land prospects in Meroth.”
“Land prospects? In Meroth? Do you believe this man?” There was a chorus of chuckles around the room. Richard, however, seemed more angry than amused. He rose to his feet and drew a dagger from his side.
“Tell us the truth, scoundrel!” he growled, pointing the dagger at Alex. “This is your last chance.”
“Wait!” another Council member said. “Put away your dagger, Richard. We decide things together.”
“And what would you do, Guillaume?” Richard snapped.
“Calm down. Can’t you see this isn’t doing us any good? He’ll just keep making up stories, and we won’t know which the right one is.”
“True,” said another man. “But what do you propose? Torture?”
“No,” said Guillaume, “fond as I am of that method, I don’t think it will work with him. Let me handle this.” He turned to Alex. “What’s your name, man?”
“Jeffrey,” said Alex promptly. If he got away, he didn’t want them trailing him by his name.
“Jeffrey, I have an offer for you. One I think you’ll find agreeable.”
“I’m not interested in money. You can’t bribe me that way.”
Guillaume snorted. “I’m not trying to bribe you. It’s plain you won’t give us information for love or money. But you could work for us in exchange for your freedom—say, after a three-month period, perhaps?” The other men looked at Guillaume, surprised, but he held up his hand, keeping his gaze on Alex. “Well, Jeffrey?”
“That’s all there is to it?” Alex asked. “You’d just let me off the hook?”
“If we can’t get information, we’ll take free labor.”
“What sort of labor would that be? Helping you steal?”
Guillaume gave him a condescending look. “Well, what else would you do?”
Ignoring the look, Alex said, “I need time to think about it.”
Guillaume looked at the others. “What do you think? Shall we give him a day? He can sleep in the barn tonight.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Guillaume,” began Richard.
“Pardon me if I explain it later.”
“A day, then,” said Richard. “And you’d better have a good explanation.”
“I do,” said Guillaume, helping Alex up from his sitting position. “Pardon my having to blindfold you, Jeffrey.”
He’s being noticeably politer now, Alex thought. Sure sign of a bribe. But what does he think he’ll get from me in return for my help?
It was not hard to tell that he had entered the barn, the smell of hay and manure being so prevalent. Guillaume removed the blindfold again, untied him, and showed him a ladder which led into the hayloft.
“That’s where you’ll sleep tonight,” he said. “I hope you see the sense in my offer, Jeffrey.”
“We’ll see,” said Alex. He mounted the ladder and climbed into the hayloft. When he turned around, Guillaume was gone.👰🏻🦊💥
ENFJ-T. Arbitrary. Greet at your own risk. *trips on a rock*Hey there, @lady-iliara! I love this chapter, but I do have a few tips.
Number one:
So, you look like you’re setting a pretty significant event up in this chapter, and I like your description and dialogue a lot, but I think you should make the “Council” slightly less vague. Like, not a whole bunch, but maybe just give a few hints as to how they found Alex and why they want him enough to not torture him. Letting him off with just a “I don’t think that would work on him” seems just a bit to easy, if you know what I mean. After all, how does Guillame know it won’t work on him?
One more thing, maybe make Alex a bit more skeptical about the whole thing? I don’t know his personality as well as you do, but I kind of get feeling he’s sort of sarcastic. And he’s also a spy, so maybe have him act a bit more wary about suddenly being offered freedom for pretty much nothing so far. Alex didn’t really ask “why?” a whole lot.I hope this helped! I love reading stories about spies and such, and your’s sounds really interesting! I want to read it really bad right now, xD
*vader vibes*
@sarah-anson Thanks muchly!
About the Council, yes you’re probably right. My real problem is that I don’t know why they want Alex. I wasn’t even sure they were going to be my main antagonists, since I have no plot for this story! 😆 But I should think about that.
Yes, Alex suffers from what I call “Weak Alex Syndrome.” I think I made him react too much like I would in the same situation, which made him kinda bland. 😉😉 It’s interesting, I suppose he is sarcastic. I hadn’t thought of him that way, but that could be very helpful. He’s definitely sarcastic whenever I talk to him. 😜
Thanks a bunches! I do have more chapters written…but I’m going to wait a bit to post them. 😁 (sorry 🙃)👰🏻🦊💥
ENFJ-T. Arbitrary. Greet at your own risk. *trips on a rock*No problem for the help! I love reading other people’s work, and wishing my own is that good…lol, I know what you mean about having no plot. I’m a plantser, a weird combination between pantser and planner. I am writing a trilogy that I know the characters, world, and stakes…but not the actual sequence of events. *sighs* And I’m doing Nano with it.
Ha, I love sarcastic characters. I usually have to worry about them being to sarcastic, if you know what I mean. There has to be some seriousness to the story.*vader vibes*
Oy, I know what you mean about sarcasm. Sometimes I call my stories “humorfests.” Actually, the poems suffer more from that malady. And I can’t seem to stop RHYMING! My specialty is couplets. 😄
As far as planning goes…yeah, it varies. One story, I had the plot all worked out years ago, but now it seems kinda silly. (I still haven’t written it, so at least I have the freedom to change it up.)
Don’t look at me that way! Of course I don’t procrastinate! *cough cough*👰🏻🦊💥
ENFJ-T. Arbitrary. Greet at your own risk. *trips on a rock*Ha ha, I don’t think you could procrastinate any more than me. I know I’m ‘sposed to be writing some days….but Pinterest is just so fun!
*vader vibes*
@lady-Iliara I like it overall but I also agree with @sarah-anson when she says the council is vague, also you have a lot of periods in there instead of commas, periods completely end a sentence, while commas give it a little pause.
@lady-iliara I like it! my thoughts are pretty much the same as @sarah-anson ‘s
~I don’t know what I’m doing~
@silverclaw-bonnetfolly Yes, well some of that is to make short sentences for effect, but I’ll think about that! 😀 Thanks! And @salome01w4g 😊
I’ll give thought to the council. My thought is that they’re just a small band of thieves, but somebody else hired them for some purpose….*goes off to writing corner to ponder this more thoroughly*👰🏻🦊💥
ENFJ-T. Arbitrary. Greet at your own risk. *trips on a rock*
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