Post by Talmon on Jun 27, 2012 18:15:59 GMT -5
Something I wrote for an LO contest
The sun was setting on the quite village. Streaks of light rippled across the make-shift houses, caused by the crude wooden fence that protected the village, at least, somewhat. A wind trickled across the main square and lifted the sand from the ground, swirling it loosely before depositing it back onto the ground. That was all that happened here; you were lifted up from birth, had a brief life, and then went back to the ground. The sea was so far away that watching a proper sunset was not an option; however the spirit of the children within was not deterred. The sound of wooden swords clashing filled the village from dawn till dusk and sometimes long after. The passion of fighting for what you believe in had not been cracked by what had been years of pain and suffering for the small community. They were too close to the Keigers and too far from the capital to have any chance at the raids that fell upon the village frequently. A Turga mother brushed a strand of thin, pink hair from her face and ushered her son inside, despite his protests “It’s not long now, my love. They’ll be here for their payment soon,” she insisted, pangs of pain in her heart as she uttered the next words; “we don’t want them to get you too, now do we?” she chirped, hiding the sadness and regret that filled up her body, but it was all too commonplace in this village of theirs. Few men had been left behind, their pride meant they fought for their wives, and, subsequently, lost their lives.
Her son, Folv Hannker, was all she had left of her husband Strengkoon Hannker. Although she was a widow she kept his name and never remarried. She didn’t ever quite let go of the day he was taken.
-------------
Flashback
-------------
Strengkoon wrapped his strong arms around his wife and held her close as they lay by the fire – their young babe cooed in his cot – she leaned back and looked into his eyes longingly “I’m so glad I married you” she whispered, moving to kiss him until the crackle of a dying fire broke the mood. She looked at him, distressed but he simply grinned and got to his feet, carefully so that he didn’t hurt her; being twice his wife’s size was not always helpful.
“I’ll go grab some fire wood” he insisted, he walked across the ground with heavy pads of his cream paws. His fur was a pale yellow, which made him generally a lot brighter than the other Turga’s, earning him the nickname: Sunshine.
“But-” his wife protested, meekly
“I’ll be back before you know it Shéila” he insisted, grabbing an axe as he looked back into her soft green eyes and wished they were closer to his
“Be careful, the sun is nearly all gone” she insisted, getting to her feet to check on their baby
“You just look after Folv, I promise I’ll be fine” he opened the door and slipped out with the crimson red axe in his right hand and a wood basket in the other. He slung the basket over his shoulder and looked out across the meagre village. Life was finally looking up since their race had to retreat from battle with the Keigers, maybe they would be okay without Renvolf.
“Hey, Sunshine!” a familiar voice called out, footsteps were heard and then a pat on the back was given
“Hey, Thoern” Strengkoon replied, happily but the tiredness in his voice was evident
“Out to fetch some wood, are ya?” Thoern cheerily asked. Strengkoon nodded so Thoern turned towards the wood “Let’s go then. Two fists are better than one” his friend announced, his voice was powerful; being the leader of the village it was required, of course.
“I guess but I have to be quick” Strengkoon insisted
“What you wasting time for then? Let’s get chopping” his friend insisted, running ahead with heavy thumps on the loose ground.
---------------------
Flashback Over
---------------------
Shéila put her son into his bed and placed a log onto the fire. It was dimming but she daren’t go out into the dark any more. “Mum, it’s cold,” Folv moaned, pulling his blankets tighter around himself
“I know, I know” she soothed, stroking his forehead with her thin fingers, tempered by the manual labour she had to do as a single woman.
“Tell me the stories about dad again?” Folv begged, a cheesy grin spread across his face as his mother sighed
“Not tonight dear” she lamented, tiredly
“But- but you promised!” he pleaded, nearly getting out of bed. His mother, exasperated, placed the quilt back onto him and pulled a chair next to his bed
“Just one” she finalised, a frog in her throat.
“The one about the time he stopped the bandits!” her son cheered. She held back the sob, doing inside what she daren’t to do outside – cry – to hide her turmoil from her son.
“Okay, that one” she tucked him in gently and smiled kindly, maternally, hopefully at her son “How does it start again?” she asked, watching the grin spread across his face
“Dad and the village leader were at the gates and the bandits were running at them” Folv shouted, becoming excited
“Okay, Okay” she whispered, laying him back down “Now then. Where was I…” she paused “Oh yes,” Folv grinned in anticipation, “So the mighty Strengkoon Hannker and Thoern Kruft were stood, facing an army of, maybe, a hundred bandits. They had no weapons, just their fists, yet still they stayed. They were brave warriors-”
“Don’t forget strong!” her son chimed in, she smiled at him
“Yes, very strong,” she stroked his head and then looked back up, thinking back to her story. “The bandits ran at them, charging and your father, and his friend, stood and faced them without a single worry or doubt. They remembered the training. Strike hard, and fast, immediately as soon as the clash began the odds were against them. But your father and Thoern” she choked on her words “They… They- They burst into action, knocking their enemies down without delay. They punched and grappled, but never kicked, they didn’t need to use their legs, until it was them against the strongest two Keiger bandits left” she spoke quickly, getting carried away by the wistful storyline
“Then what?” her son asked, although he already knew, it was his favourite bit.
“Your father grabbed them both in one hand, and threw them away, saving the village. He was the village hero!” she chimed. Her son bounced up and down in his bed excitedly
“I’m going to be like him, one day, I will, I swear!” he insisted, incessantly
“Yes, but for now, you must sleep” she retorted as the fire died down to a lowly ember
-------------
Flashback
-------------
They walked back from the forest, carrying armfuls of wood, chatting away even though the sun had left long ago. “I think it’s time we both head home.” Thoern interrupted his friend’s lengthy story about childhood experiences,
“Oh, okay, yeah…” Strengkoon chuckled, forgetting who he was for a brief moment. His wife was waiting.
“Give Shéila my best” Thoern insisted
“Naturally”
“Tomorrow we are meeting on-” a loud bang shook the village and the gates burst open. Strengkoon and Thoern spun, terrified. It was Keiger bandits.
“Thoern, what are your orders?” Strengkoon asked, immediately recalling his military training
“We are equals. We will fight them ‘til our death” Thoern replied, steely-eyed “It’s been good to know you, Strengkoon” Thoern rarely used anything but the nickname but this was no ordinary time
“Don’t talk like that, Thoern. If this was the end I’d make sure to get back those coins you owe me” Strengkoon insisted, his strength of character towering over Thoern’s
“Oh- Okay” Thoern stammered, regaining his composure.
A bandit walked over to a house with a torch and prepared to throw it onto the thatched roof. Strengkoon reached, grabbed his axe and threw, knocking the bandit onto the ground. He spun to face the other bandits who had now noticed them and prepared to fight. There were only ten altogether but Strengkoon and Thoern were well past their prime and had no weapons or armour. The first bandit ran at them so Strengkoon took the blow from the hammer, aimed at Thoern, and knocked the bandit to the ground. The second and third were quickly upon them, they were arriving in staggered waves, Thoern grappled with one but a dagger into his knee quickly made him lose his focus and so the sword tore into his arm. Strengkoon wanted to help but his own battle was no easier. He punched the bandit, crumpling the helmet inwards but quickly the butt of a sword was met by his chin and he was knocked to his knees. The sound of a door opening was heard and Shéila burst out “Strengkoon!” she screamed, terrified
“Sheila, go inside” he burst up and tackled the bandit to the ground but the others were already upon him
“No, I want to help you!” she screamed, running towards him.
“Stop!” he roared, holding out his hand. She paused and looked at him longingly, trying to form words but none came to her “Look after Folv” he insisted, his words still strong as the blade was brought close to his neck.
Thoern leapt in the way, having broken free of the other bandit’s hold. He delivered a crushing blow to the two bandits in front of Strengkoon but immediately a spear burst straight through his abdomen and he became weak at the knees, the adrenaline was fading – all used up – he was dying. “Strengkoon, you must-” he coughed up blood “Find the lime!” he groaned
“What, why?” Strengkoon asked, panicked
“That was the meeting we were going to have” Thoern explained, hastily “W- We-” blood dribbled from his mouth “We need to find the lime- to- to save the village!” he announced as the spear was wrenched from his gut and he fell to the floor.
“Thoern…” Strengkoon whimpered, his friend was dead and his fighting spirit had fallen with him. “You still owe me those coins, remember,” Thoern didn’t respond. “Thoern, you remember, don’t you?” he looked at his friend, concerned “Thoern, not now buddy, wake up. We need you” Strengkoon begged, his voice crackling. Thoern’s face became paler and that’s when he knew. Thoern was dead.
Strengkoon let out a mighty roar, rocking the village awake from its slumber as he charged into the open arms of the bandit leader, straight onto the dagger that the leader was holding out readily for Strengkoon in his right hand, and looked him in the eyes. “Keiger, you will not have this village” he boomed, blood leaking from the open wound
“Why did you do that, idiot, you’re going to die and then we’ll continue?” the village leader asked
“Look down” Strengkoon insisted, weaker than before, the bandit leader peered down and spotted what his adrenaline had been hiding from him. Strengkoon had thrust the broken end of the spear used to kill his friend straight into the bandit leader “We die together” Strengkoon insisted.
“Strengkoon!” Shéila screamed out, nearly running to meet him but stopping as she saw him look at her
“Shéila, I won’t forget you. I want you to promise that you’ll find the lime” Strengkoon called, his always strong voice fading
“But,” she protested
“Shéila, I love you” Strengkoon shouted “So please, promise me,” she felt the tears well up inside of her “Shéila, please, do it for Folv!” he begged
“Fine, I’ll do it!” Shéila screamed, her barricades falling and tears gushing from the open dams that were her tear ducts
“Thank you” he mouthed before pulling the blade out and sliding off the blade inside him, it had been fatal, he became cold almost immediately. Both he and the bandit leader fell, thudding against the sandy ground as onlookers – hid inside their houses – watched on. The remaining bandits looked at each other and then fled, not wasting another second. “Strengkoon…” she whispered as a blue light consumed his body “I love you too…” the blue light turned into orbs and the entire scene faded away.
---------------------
Flashback Over
---------------------
“Goodnight Folv” she whispered, walking away from his bed and to her own. She had learned to sleep immediately, and without dreams, it did not do her any good to dwell on the past, she always ended up the same way; sad and alone.
* * *
Folv awoke to a startle as a hand touched his shoulder. It was someone cloaked in red. Their face was covered by the hood and nothing but their pale hands were visible from underneath the cloth “Folv, you must go now. The lime is waiting” the disembodied voice seemed to speak softly, straight into his ear
“Who are you?” Folv asked, getting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes
“I am no one, and yet everyone, I need you to find the lime for me, little Folv,” the cloaked figure turned and walked over to his mother. They stroked her cheek softly and then kissed it
“Leave my mum alone” Folv growled
“I wish neither of you any harm” it insisted, clearly male
“What’s a lime?” Folv asked “Is it food, I think I remember seeing one…” Folv mumbled
“You will know when you see it, Folv. Good luck.” The cloaked figure opened the door and left, without delay.
Folv tore his covers from his body and chased the cloak out of the door. It stood by the village gate, looked back once and then the entity inside the cloak vanished, like it was never there, leaving only the cloak behind.
“Who are you?” Folv asked to the chilling wind. There was no response. “Answer me!” Folv called out. A gust of wind tickled Folv’s body
“You must remember: Heroes aren’t born, Folv, they are made”
The sun was setting on the quite village. Streaks of light rippled across the make-shift houses, caused by the crude wooden fence that protected the village, at least, somewhat. A wind trickled across the main square and lifted the sand from the ground, swirling it loosely before depositing it back onto the ground. That was all that happened here; you were lifted up from birth, had a brief life, and then went back to the ground. The sea was so far away that watching a proper sunset was not an option; however the spirit of the children within was not deterred. The sound of wooden swords clashing filled the village from dawn till dusk and sometimes long after. The passion of fighting for what you believe in had not been cracked by what had been years of pain and suffering for the small community. They were too close to the Keigers and too far from the capital to have any chance at the raids that fell upon the village frequently. A Turga mother brushed a strand of thin, pink hair from her face and ushered her son inside, despite his protests “It’s not long now, my love. They’ll be here for their payment soon,” she insisted, pangs of pain in her heart as she uttered the next words; “we don’t want them to get you too, now do we?” she chirped, hiding the sadness and regret that filled up her body, but it was all too commonplace in this village of theirs. Few men had been left behind, their pride meant they fought for their wives, and, subsequently, lost their lives.
Her son, Folv Hannker, was all she had left of her husband Strengkoon Hannker. Although she was a widow she kept his name and never remarried. She didn’t ever quite let go of the day he was taken.
-------------
Flashback
-------------
Strengkoon wrapped his strong arms around his wife and held her close as they lay by the fire – their young babe cooed in his cot – she leaned back and looked into his eyes longingly “I’m so glad I married you” she whispered, moving to kiss him until the crackle of a dying fire broke the mood. She looked at him, distressed but he simply grinned and got to his feet, carefully so that he didn’t hurt her; being twice his wife’s size was not always helpful.
“I’ll go grab some fire wood” he insisted, he walked across the ground with heavy pads of his cream paws. His fur was a pale yellow, which made him generally a lot brighter than the other Turga’s, earning him the nickname: Sunshine.
“But-” his wife protested, meekly
“I’ll be back before you know it Shéila” he insisted, grabbing an axe as he looked back into her soft green eyes and wished they were closer to his
“Be careful, the sun is nearly all gone” she insisted, getting to her feet to check on their baby
“You just look after Folv, I promise I’ll be fine” he opened the door and slipped out with the crimson red axe in his right hand and a wood basket in the other. He slung the basket over his shoulder and looked out across the meagre village. Life was finally looking up since their race had to retreat from battle with the Keigers, maybe they would be okay without Renvolf.
“Hey, Sunshine!” a familiar voice called out, footsteps were heard and then a pat on the back was given
“Hey, Thoern” Strengkoon replied, happily but the tiredness in his voice was evident
“Out to fetch some wood, are ya?” Thoern cheerily asked. Strengkoon nodded so Thoern turned towards the wood “Let’s go then. Two fists are better than one” his friend announced, his voice was powerful; being the leader of the village it was required, of course.
“I guess but I have to be quick” Strengkoon insisted
“What you wasting time for then? Let’s get chopping” his friend insisted, running ahead with heavy thumps on the loose ground.
---------------------
Flashback Over
---------------------
Shéila put her son into his bed and placed a log onto the fire. It was dimming but she daren’t go out into the dark any more. “Mum, it’s cold,” Folv moaned, pulling his blankets tighter around himself
“I know, I know” she soothed, stroking his forehead with her thin fingers, tempered by the manual labour she had to do as a single woman.
“Tell me the stories about dad again?” Folv begged, a cheesy grin spread across his face as his mother sighed
“Not tonight dear” she lamented, tiredly
“But- but you promised!” he pleaded, nearly getting out of bed. His mother, exasperated, placed the quilt back onto him and pulled a chair next to his bed
“Just one” she finalised, a frog in her throat.
“The one about the time he stopped the bandits!” her son cheered. She held back the sob, doing inside what she daren’t to do outside – cry – to hide her turmoil from her son.
“Okay, that one” she tucked him in gently and smiled kindly, maternally, hopefully at her son “How does it start again?” she asked, watching the grin spread across his face
“Dad and the village leader were at the gates and the bandits were running at them” Folv shouted, becoming excited
“Okay, Okay” she whispered, laying him back down “Now then. Where was I…” she paused “Oh yes,” Folv grinned in anticipation, “So the mighty Strengkoon Hannker and Thoern Kruft were stood, facing an army of, maybe, a hundred bandits. They had no weapons, just their fists, yet still they stayed. They were brave warriors-”
“Don’t forget strong!” her son chimed in, she smiled at him
“Yes, very strong,” she stroked his head and then looked back up, thinking back to her story. “The bandits ran at them, charging and your father, and his friend, stood and faced them without a single worry or doubt. They remembered the training. Strike hard, and fast, immediately as soon as the clash began the odds were against them. But your father and Thoern” she choked on her words “They… They- They burst into action, knocking their enemies down without delay. They punched and grappled, but never kicked, they didn’t need to use their legs, until it was them against the strongest two Keiger bandits left” she spoke quickly, getting carried away by the wistful storyline
“Then what?” her son asked, although he already knew, it was his favourite bit.
“Your father grabbed them both in one hand, and threw them away, saving the village. He was the village hero!” she chimed. Her son bounced up and down in his bed excitedly
“I’m going to be like him, one day, I will, I swear!” he insisted, incessantly
“Yes, but for now, you must sleep” she retorted as the fire died down to a lowly ember
-------------
Flashback
-------------
They walked back from the forest, carrying armfuls of wood, chatting away even though the sun had left long ago. “I think it’s time we both head home.” Thoern interrupted his friend’s lengthy story about childhood experiences,
“Oh, okay, yeah…” Strengkoon chuckled, forgetting who he was for a brief moment. His wife was waiting.
“Give Shéila my best” Thoern insisted
“Naturally”
“Tomorrow we are meeting on-” a loud bang shook the village and the gates burst open. Strengkoon and Thoern spun, terrified. It was Keiger bandits.
“Thoern, what are your orders?” Strengkoon asked, immediately recalling his military training
“We are equals. We will fight them ‘til our death” Thoern replied, steely-eyed “It’s been good to know you, Strengkoon” Thoern rarely used anything but the nickname but this was no ordinary time
“Don’t talk like that, Thoern. If this was the end I’d make sure to get back those coins you owe me” Strengkoon insisted, his strength of character towering over Thoern’s
“Oh- Okay” Thoern stammered, regaining his composure.
A bandit walked over to a house with a torch and prepared to throw it onto the thatched roof. Strengkoon reached, grabbed his axe and threw, knocking the bandit onto the ground. He spun to face the other bandits who had now noticed them and prepared to fight. There were only ten altogether but Strengkoon and Thoern were well past their prime and had no weapons or armour. The first bandit ran at them so Strengkoon took the blow from the hammer, aimed at Thoern, and knocked the bandit to the ground. The second and third were quickly upon them, they were arriving in staggered waves, Thoern grappled with one but a dagger into his knee quickly made him lose his focus and so the sword tore into his arm. Strengkoon wanted to help but his own battle was no easier. He punched the bandit, crumpling the helmet inwards but quickly the butt of a sword was met by his chin and he was knocked to his knees. The sound of a door opening was heard and Shéila burst out “Strengkoon!” she screamed, terrified
“Sheila, go inside” he burst up and tackled the bandit to the ground but the others were already upon him
“No, I want to help you!” she screamed, running towards him.
“Stop!” he roared, holding out his hand. She paused and looked at him longingly, trying to form words but none came to her “Look after Folv” he insisted, his words still strong as the blade was brought close to his neck.
Thoern leapt in the way, having broken free of the other bandit’s hold. He delivered a crushing blow to the two bandits in front of Strengkoon but immediately a spear burst straight through his abdomen and he became weak at the knees, the adrenaline was fading – all used up – he was dying. “Strengkoon, you must-” he coughed up blood “Find the lime!” he groaned
“What, why?” Strengkoon asked, panicked
“That was the meeting we were going to have” Thoern explained, hastily “W- We-” blood dribbled from his mouth “We need to find the lime- to- to save the village!” he announced as the spear was wrenched from his gut and he fell to the floor.
“Thoern…” Strengkoon whimpered, his friend was dead and his fighting spirit had fallen with him. “You still owe me those coins, remember,” Thoern didn’t respond. “Thoern, you remember, don’t you?” he looked at his friend, concerned “Thoern, not now buddy, wake up. We need you” Strengkoon begged, his voice crackling. Thoern’s face became paler and that’s when he knew. Thoern was dead.
Strengkoon let out a mighty roar, rocking the village awake from its slumber as he charged into the open arms of the bandit leader, straight onto the dagger that the leader was holding out readily for Strengkoon in his right hand, and looked him in the eyes. “Keiger, you will not have this village” he boomed, blood leaking from the open wound
“Why did you do that, idiot, you’re going to die and then we’ll continue?” the village leader asked
“Look down” Strengkoon insisted, weaker than before, the bandit leader peered down and spotted what his adrenaline had been hiding from him. Strengkoon had thrust the broken end of the spear used to kill his friend straight into the bandit leader “We die together” Strengkoon insisted.
“Strengkoon!” Shéila screamed out, nearly running to meet him but stopping as she saw him look at her
“Shéila, I won’t forget you. I want you to promise that you’ll find the lime” Strengkoon called, his always strong voice fading
“But,” she protested
“Shéila, I love you” Strengkoon shouted “So please, promise me,” she felt the tears well up inside of her “Shéila, please, do it for Folv!” he begged
“Fine, I’ll do it!” Shéila screamed, her barricades falling and tears gushing from the open dams that were her tear ducts
“Thank you” he mouthed before pulling the blade out and sliding off the blade inside him, it had been fatal, he became cold almost immediately. Both he and the bandit leader fell, thudding against the sandy ground as onlookers – hid inside their houses – watched on. The remaining bandits looked at each other and then fled, not wasting another second. “Strengkoon…” she whispered as a blue light consumed his body “I love you too…” the blue light turned into orbs and the entire scene faded away.
---------------------
Flashback Over
---------------------
“Goodnight Folv” she whispered, walking away from his bed and to her own. She had learned to sleep immediately, and without dreams, it did not do her any good to dwell on the past, she always ended up the same way; sad and alone.
* * *
Folv awoke to a startle as a hand touched his shoulder. It was someone cloaked in red. Their face was covered by the hood and nothing but their pale hands were visible from underneath the cloth “Folv, you must go now. The lime is waiting” the disembodied voice seemed to speak softly, straight into his ear
“Who are you?” Folv asked, getting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes
“I am no one, and yet everyone, I need you to find the lime for me, little Folv,” the cloaked figure turned and walked over to his mother. They stroked her cheek softly and then kissed it
“Leave my mum alone” Folv growled
“I wish neither of you any harm” it insisted, clearly male
“What’s a lime?” Folv asked “Is it food, I think I remember seeing one…” Folv mumbled
“You will know when you see it, Folv. Good luck.” The cloaked figure opened the door and left, without delay.
Folv tore his covers from his body and chased the cloak out of the door. It stood by the village gate, looked back once and then the entity inside the cloak vanished, like it was never there, leaving only the cloak behind.
“Who are you?” Folv asked to the chilling wind. There was no response. “Answer me!” Folv called out. A gust of wind tickled Folv’s body
“You must remember: Heroes aren’t born, Folv, they are made”