- This topic has 68 replies, 7 voices, and was last updated 6 hours, 37 minutes ago by
.
-
Posts
-
I wish I could braid like Aenwest. Her hair is so pretty!
If you want to find all the cops, they're hanging out in the donut shop.
In Which Orcs Stink, and Dwogin Plays Hockey
Chapter 6
“Cowards and kettledrums!” Dwogin bellowed. His axe sprang into his hand and the stout warrior went charging into the first line of the ambushment. Orcs flew like flies over a hotly contested piece of garbage. I gagged.
In the chaos that ensued, I caught a glimpse of Onnendel and Travenor fighting in their iconic back-to-back position. It was spectacular, like they were posing for a cover shot: the blind prince fighting fearlessly beside the Ranger of the North. Royalty and loyalty personified. I smiled fondly as Randal pulled me to cover.
“Stay here, Aenwest.”
And then I was alone to watch the grisly scene as I liked. I peeked out from the fir branches and tried not to lose the last of the apricots I’d had at lunch. Orc blood, just in case you were wondering, is even more disgusting than the filthy vermin themselves. And it stinks to high heaven. The battle went spinning on.
I inched back into the sneaks of my hiding spot, a bramble of twisted trees and undergrowth. The smell was terrible.
Ok. It turns out, Orc blood doen’t stink as much as an actual orc. Yeah, you may know where this is going. I sure didn’t, which is why I kept backing up, my hand clamped over my nose.
A huge, clammy hand gripped my arm. I jerked away shrieking like a banshee.
“EEEK! Let me go! Lemme go! Rat breathed fiend from the depths of Throg! Filthy, filthy, filthy!”
The hulking beast laughed and tightened his grip on my poor arm. Crushing panic clouded my brain. I fought back blindly, screaming mad. Duck, twist, jab with the elbows. I managed to sock him a good one on the nose. If it could be called a nose. He growled and grabbed my other arm. I balked.
Then the orc crumpled away, and Dwogin stood beside me, a grin splitting his beard.
“For such a little lass, you have a brave tongue in your head.” It was the most unexpected time for a compliment.
I gasped for breath. Tried to call up a smile. “Thanks. I think.” My hands and arms were unclean from the evil creature, but Dwogin grinned again. I think that meant we were finally friends.
With that, my good dwarfish hero spun back into the fray with all the enthusiasm of a pickled banana slipping from its peel… pardon. I crouched down between two old firs and held my breath. My hands shook, but I flipped open my satchel and withdrew a sock I’d never be using again and some sanitizer. Then I reached for my notebook. Yes, I had just nearly died again, but somewhere on page 200 I had jotted down this scene idea. Which meant I was honor bound to find it and make sure there were no more plot twists headed our way in the immediate future.
I found a drawing instead. Young Travenor stood with his hand out, laying it on Onnendel’s shoulder. The elf was a vague sketch that resembled someone from Narnia more than himself. Travenor however, was in great detail. A note beside his head described the scene as “Travenor and his best friend. Long live the shadow breakers!”
A horrific cry cut through my happy distraction. I flipped the page with a shudder.
There, a three paragraph account of this little ambush. Had we been going with the original plan, we would have been further down in the valley and Travenor’s cousins would have come to the rescue. Apparently my feet changed that, which meant my story was changing itself. A terrifying thought indeed.
A sneak attack on Onnendel nearly kills him. But Dwogin whirrs into the way, cutting down the villainous orc before the worst could happen. The battle sweeps back at the weight of Deogin’s ax-
Something thudded to my right. I peeked around a tangle of fir branches to see an orcish helmet embedded into the nearby foliage. I stared at it numbly. Tried not to wonder if there was a head inside or how close it had come to flying into my sanctum. Somewhere some wise hobbit complained about being stuck outside a battle, not able to escape or help his friends. I looked at that helmet and vowed I would take a broadsword class or karate or something dangerous the first chance I got. Anything that would help more than a measly pen when my friends were battling graphically hideous beings.
Then- silence. A groan or two and a muffled conversation. Boots tromped through the underbrush toward my thicket.
“Lady Aenwest? Where are you?”
“Here.” It came out with the slightest edge of a squeak. I stuffed the notebook back into my bag before Randal appeared. He held out a hand which had obviously just been washed clean. I took it and followed him out into the battlefield.
Two words. Dead chaos.
“We cannot stay here.” Ranadal said quietly. I fully agreed. Travenor however, appeared to be fascinated with the uniforms of the orcs. He kicked one over, the front of his cloak pulled over his nose to survive. Randal threw a questioning glance at Onnendel, who wouldn’t have seen it even if he hadn’t been quietly cleaning his blade. Squish, scritch, went the elf’s cloth against the steel, completely lost in his own thoughts. Randal coughed.
“Ahem. What is it, Travenor?”
The ranger looked up, his face red from bending over. He frowned.
“A strange device. A wing of black set with a white stone. It is not orc-work.” He pointed with his sword at an emblem on the orc’s sleeve. Randal stepped closer and his face grew dark.
“An elf lord who employs orcs.” he straightened to face Travenor. They stared at each other for a long moment while the rest of us stood in suspense. Well, not me. I knew.
“Him!” Travenor spun to kick the body again, eyes flashing steel grey. He stepped across to Onnendel. “It was Him.”
Onnendel did not move. He simply gazed at Travenor with his clouded eyes and a gravity that ached my author heart. His sword slid into its sheath with a muted click.
“And he likely has more hidden here.” I crossed my arms, ready to push this whole thing forward if I had to. “In fact, I would not be surprised if he has another band set to come out of their hole in, what, another hour? These were headed for the lower road when they found us.”
“Oh?” Randal turned to me with an interested look. I nodded emphatically.
“He will be looking for us by now. Querrel was not his only target.”
Need I say more? Obviously, no. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, even Dwogin. The dwarf stuffed his hands in his pockets with a grimace and stepped closer to Randal.
“If there are more of these maggots around, we need a safe place to stay.” Travenor turned to look back down the path. “There is no such place until we reach the Dell.”
The Dell, a common little place hallowed by its many years of service to Rangers, was perfect. It was also about a league away. The path there wound down through the wilderness below, over rivers and through woods thicker than anything we had met with yet. A firm resolution settled on everyone’s face.
Everyone but Dwogin. The dwarf fumbled with his ax and cut a glance toward Randal.
In the books, characters rarely leave a battle site like this without cleaning up first. But then, in the books you can clean up a pile of orcs in a sentence and a half. That leaves plenty of time to reach the only safe haven for three miles before it gets too dark to see the road or worse. Randal nodded to us each.
“Come then. There’s no time to lose.”
We set off down the path at once more closely knit than before, yet also not. Dwogin stomped along slow enough that he would have trailed far behind the group if I had not been going just as slow. I caught his eye.
“Hey, thank you for helping me back there. If we ever have the opportunity, we should make up insults together. They might be useful.”
He hooted at that and picked up his pace a little. I smiled. Everyone needs an ally. Sometimes it’s scary to be a dwarf.
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
@ellette-giselle @koshka @keilah-h @hybridlore @theducktator @anyoneinterested
The next chapter is up!
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
wait what!!!!???
I keep re-reading this, but it reads as if they’re saying Onnendel is the traitor. He’s not, RIGHT?!?!?!
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
What? XD Oh no. I’ll tweak that. Sorry for the unclarified pronoun.
Onnendel is not the traitor. It would be a great twist, but he’s too much of Aenwest’s cinnamon roll to have a negative arc..
Plus… Backstory. Lots of backstory….
that bit was supposed to express how well Onnendel and Travenor know each other. They *might* have dealt with this guy before.
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
OOOOOOPS. Sorry for the unclarified pronoun. How is this?
“Him!” Travenor spun to kick the body again, eyes flashing steel grey. He stepped across to Onnendel. “It was Him. Bân-Sercëon.” He spat out the name in a half-voiced growl.
Onnendel did not move. He simply gazed at Travenor with his clouded eyes and a gravity that ached my author heart. His sword slid into its sheath with a muted click.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkAlso….
Why would Onnendel be sending orcs to hunt his own band? And then give himself away by a notable device on his minions’ uniforms?
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
@elishavet-pidyon wow, very cool!
Man, I’d hate being sucked into my own story, but that might have something to do with the fact that I’d either get eaten by a dragon who doesn’t know any better on the first page or I’d have to deal with an alternate version of myself who’s not afraid to kill, and will probably beat me up ‘cause I’m fangirling over HER love interest and HER best friend.
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
Apparently my feet changed that, which meant my story was changing itself. A terrifying thought indeed.
Dun … dun… DUN!!! XD
Nice segment. Interested to see where it goes next…
INTP 🧡 Homeschooler 🧡 WIP: The Color of Hope
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.