Ender Wiggin
13th February 2003, 15:49
Well, it's formatted properly in Word, but it doesn't seem to work on the forums. Here: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php?item_id=711632
That's 10 times easier to read.
If anybody has some spare time and is incredibly bored, could I interest in reading what I have of a story and crituiqing it? This is my first time writing fantasy and I have no idea whether I'm writing coherently.
At the beginning, I think it's too confusing about Merik and his wife... you can't really tell that they're married.
Well, here is is:
She walked in as he practiced the forms with the new sword he had just had forged. Dressed in only his breeches and covered with sweat, he couldn’t help but feel that her dark, always-amused eyes were studying him like a farrier would study a particularly fine horse. Despite how much he hated the piercing stare directed at him, he increased his effort, flowing seamlessly from form to form, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t because Faline was there. As she walked around the small courtyard outside of the servant’s quarters she traced her hand over the simple designs on the stone benches and fountains with that unfaltering look always on her face whenever Merik had a chance to glance at her. He knew it would happen soon. It always did. Every time he thought he had found a safe place in the palace to have a few moments to himself she would pop up as soon as he found his rhythm. Yes, there was no stopping her, she would do it in a moment.
It happened. One moment he was facing away from her thrusting at the air with his heavy one-handed sword and the next he was facing her with his sword high above his head about to smash his imaginary foe. Instead of being on the edge of the courtyard she was directly under his blade with her eyebrows raised as if to ask him whether he dared. “What is it,” he asked in the softest, nicest voice he could muster. It wasn’t very soft. Or nice.
“Now, now Meri, I was just going to inquire on whether you wanted to sup with me tonight and I didn’t want to bother the servants to come down and ask.” The smile was back and worse than ever. “I thought you might be having dinner with Tak.”
“I didn’t want to bother the servants,” he mocked. “Didn’t want to bother the servants!? That’s what they’re bloody there for. And don’t call me that,” he added with a fierce glare. It seemed to have no effect on her. If anything her smile widened.
“Watch your language, Meri. Most women I know won’t stand for that sort of talk and I think I’m beginning to agree with them. I might ask Arla if I can borrow that cane she’s always talking about. You know, the one that she uses on Dav?” Oh he had heard about the cane all right. He could not see how Dav could possibly want to do anything except what his wife ordered him, after seeing the bruises left by the cane, but Dav claimed that making up afterwards made it worth the pain. She had obviously gone insane; she hadn’t been like this when they first got married. He’d had enough. He had to get out. Tomorrow, he decided. He thought, Tomorrow, eh? Didn’t you say that yesterday and the day before? Come to think of it, you’ve been saying that for quite a while now. But it had to stop soon, before she actually decided to use that bloody cane! He wouldn’t put it past her.
“My language” he yelled, finally losing all self-control. “You curse like a stableboy with never a care for who hears you! At least I watch my bloody language around higher nobles and queens! Queens for Light’s sake! Oh don’t look so surprised; half the palace already knows what happened in there with you, the queen and the queen’s servant.” Her eyes widened before she could regain her calm.
“I will see you in our sitting room at first dark for supper with Lord Daybin and Lady Luse.” With that she spun on her heel and left though the low stone arch on the east side of the courtyard for all the world like she herself was the queen and he a servant or a queen’s pretty to be ordered around with never a question as to why.
Merik sheathed his sword in his plain leather scabbard, regretting that he wouldn’t get the chance to thank the extraordinary blacksmith that had made it for him. It had been decided. By this time tomorrow he would be gone.
***…***
After the dinner with Daybin and his wife, Merik moved his chair back from the table and sat back for a long discussion with Daybin about the succession to the crown and who was the most likely candidate.
“I’ve got my money on Saigan, but lately Faline seems to have been getting a good deal of support,” Daybin said over his goblet of spiced wine. Merik was not sure Daybin hadn’t had too much of the wine.
“Faline? Was that a joke, Daybin? I can never tell with you.” It was true; Merik could never tell whether the man was joking, lying or mourning. His facial expression hadn’t moved an inch from the first time they had met two years ago. Merik wasn’t particularly fond of Daybin, but once filled with enough wine, Daybin was a useful source of information. Until now.
Daybin looked hurt by his expression, if a slight downwards turn of the lips could be counted as an expression. “You know you can trust me, Merik; I’ve heard she’s got the support of two major houses: Nolan and one other.”
Merik looked down the long table to where his wife and Luse were quietly chattering about some women’s business that he was sure was “nothing a man had to worry about”. Faline was wearing a pained expression; she hated being in any sort of contact with Luse, but refused to stop inviting her to dinner’s and other social events. “I think it’s time you were going, Daybin. Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re more…” he didn’t finish his sentence. Despite the other man’s unchanging attitude towards anything and everything, Merik had come to like the man for his matter-of-factness.
Merik scraped his chair back and stood up. “It was a pleasure having you and your wife for dinner; I hope we can do it another time soon,” Merik announced loudly. Faline looked at him, her face a mask of relief. Luse appeared annoyed at being interrupted by a noble of lesser rank, but she and Faline had been friends too long for her to actually call Merik down. After two years of deferring and receiving deference he had still not gotten used to all the nuances of rank that everybody else had apparently been taught from the cradle.
As the door closed behind the two highest members of house Camber, Merik turned to his wife. “I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said. It had to begin now. No more waiting around.
“Hunting with Tak again? I swear that you two have single-handedly reduced Andor’s deer population to half of what it was before last fall.
“No. It’s not like that. I’ll be leaving for good this time. I truly have loved you, even though you’ve infuriated me enough times to make a man mad. I need to know something before I go, though: have you been meeting with House Nolan to gain their support?” He had to know; too much hung on who got the crown.
“Merik, what in the Light are—“ she started, but was cut off by Merik.
“Tell me,” he breathed in a hardly suppressed rage. His wife looked at him in surprise; she had never seen him get like this before. Angry, yes, but this wasn’t just anger. Merik was sure he had pure fury showing on his face. Faline didn’t realize that he wasn’t in a rage because she wouldn’t tell him. He was in a rage because of what he might have to do if she gave him the wrong answer.
“Yes, yes I have met with House Nolan and House Sund, if you must know and I now have their full support,” she said in an uncertain voice that he thought was supposed to sound confident. It was the wrong answer.
He moved to embrace her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he hugged her. He could already feel the life draining out of her as his dagger went through her heart. As he let his wife of two years sag to the floor, tears came to his eyes. He really had loved her, but there were things more important right now than his personal feelings.
This wasn’t the time to mourn, though. His plan had finally started and there was no going back. Wiping his dagger on the new Tairen rug Faline had bought from a merchant not five days ago, he set to work. Drawing out the clothes he had first worn into Andor from the back of his wardrobe, Merik wondered at how loose these clothes had been on him when he had first entered the city. I really have gone soft; getting fat with all these nobles and their nightly feasts, he thought as he squeezed in to his plain woolen breeches. There was no time to dispose of the body, but the whole palace would know that Faline and another were dead by the next morning anyway, and it wouldn’t matter if they found out that he had done it. He would be thousands of miles away. As he belted on his sword and sheathed the rest of his knives about his body he glanced up to find a myrdraal at the doorway to his bedchamber.
“You know where this Tak sleeps?” It asked in its low rasping voice.
“Yes. His room is two levels down and directly across from the East stair’s landing. Meaning no disrespect, but we’ve been over this; Demandred himself came up with the plan,” Merik answered with as much respect as he could show to a fade. Merik looked down to check that his sword buckle was secure and when he looked back up to answer any more questions the fade had, he ended up staring at an empty doorframe. Why can’t those bloody fades announce when they’re leaving? That gives me the chills, he thought angrily.
That's 10 times easier to read.
If anybody has some spare time and is incredibly bored, could I interest in reading what I have of a story and crituiqing it? This is my first time writing fantasy and I have no idea whether I'm writing coherently.
At the beginning, I think it's too confusing about Merik and his wife... you can't really tell that they're married.
Well, here is is:
She walked in as he practiced the forms with the new sword he had just had forged. Dressed in only his breeches and covered with sweat, he couldn’t help but feel that her dark, always-amused eyes were studying him like a farrier would study a particularly fine horse. Despite how much he hated the piercing stare directed at him, he increased his effort, flowing seamlessly from form to form, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t because Faline was there. As she walked around the small courtyard outside of the servant’s quarters she traced her hand over the simple designs on the stone benches and fountains with that unfaltering look always on her face whenever Merik had a chance to glance at her. He knew it would happen soon. It always did. Every time he thought he had found a safe place in the palace to have a few moments to himself she would pop up as soon as he found his rhythm. Yes, there was no stopping her, she would do it in a moment.
It happened. One moment he was facing away from her thrusting at the air with his heavy one-handed sword and the next he was facing her with his sword high above his head about to smash his imaginary foe. Instead of being on the edge of the courtyard she was directly under his blade with her eyebrows raised as if to ask him whether he dared. “What is it,” he asked in the softest, nicest voice he could muster. It wasn’t very soft. Or nice.
“Now, now Meri, I was just going to inquire on whether you wanted to sup with me tonight and I didn’t want to bother the servants to come down and ask.” The smile was back and worse than ever. “I thought you might be having dinner with Tak.”
“I didn’t want to bother the servants,” he mocked. “Didn’t want to bother the servants!? That’s what they’re bloody there for. And don’t call me that,” he added with a fierce glare. It seemed to have no effect on her. If anything her smile widened.
“Watch your language, Meri. Most women I know won’t stand for that sort of talk and I think I’m beginning to agree with them. I might ask Arla if I can borrow that cane she’s always talking about. You know, the one that she uses on Dav?” Oh he had heard about the cane all right. He could not see how Dav could possibly want to do anything except what his wife ordered him, after seeing the bruises left by the cane, but Dav claimed that making up afterwards made it worth the pain. She had obviously gone insane; she hadn’t been like this when they first got married. He’d had enough. He had to get out. Tomorrow, he decided. He thought, Tomorrow, eh? Didn’t you say that yesterday and the day before? Come to think of it, you’ve been saying that for quite a while now. But it had to stop soon, before she actually decided to use that bloody cane! He wouldn’t put it past her.
“My language” he yelled, finally losing all self-control. “You curse like a stableboy with never a care for who hears you! At least I watch my bloody language around higher nobles and queens! Queens for Light’s sake! Oh don’t look so surprised; half the palace already knows what happened in there with you, the queen and the queen’s servant.” Her eyes widened before she could regain her calm.
“I will see you in our sitting room at first dark for supper with Lord Daybin and Lady Luse.” With that she spun on her heel and left though the low stone arch on the east side of the courtyard for all the world like she herself was the queen and he a servant or a queen’s pretty to be ordered around with never a question as to why.
Merik sheathed his sword in his plain leather scabbard, regretting that he wouldn’t get the chance to thank the extraordinary blacksmith that had made it for him. It had been decided. By this time tomorrow he would be gone.
***…***
After the dinner with Daybin and his wife, Merik moved his chair back from the table and sat back for a long discussion with Daybin about the succession to the crown and who was the most likely candidate.
“I’ve got my money on Saigan, but lately Faline seems to have been getting a good deal of support,” Daybin said over his goblet of spiced wine. Merik was not sure Daybin hadn’t had too much of the wine.
“Faline? Was that a joke, Daybin? I can never tell with you.” It was true; Merik could never tell whether the man was joking, lying or mourning. His facial expression hadn’t moved an inch from the first time they had met two years ago. Merik wasn’t particularly fond of Daybin, but once filled with enough wine, Daybin was a useful source of information. Until now.
Daybin looked hurt by his expression, if a slight downwards turn of the lips could be counted as an expression. “You know you can trust me, Merik; I’ve heard she’s got the support of two major houses: Nolan and one other.”
Merik looked down the long table to where his wife and Luse were quietly chattering about some women’s business that he was sure was “nothing a man had to worry about”. Faline was wearing a pained expression; she hated being in any sort of contact with Luse, but refused to stop inviting her to dinner’s and other social events. “I think it’s time you were going, Daybin. Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re more…” he didn’t finish his sentence. Despite the other man’s unchanging attitude towards anything and everything, Merik had come to like the man for his matter-of-factness.
Merik scraped his chair back and stood up. “It was a pleasure having you and your wife for dinner; I hope we can do it another time soon,” Merik announced loudly. Faline looked at him, her face a mask of relief. Luse appeared annoyed at being interrupted by a noble of lesser rank, but she and Faline had been friends too long for her to actually call Merik down. After two years of deferring and receiving deference he had still not gotten used to all the nuances of rank that everybody else had apparently been taught from the cradle.
As the door closed behind the two highest members of house Camber, Merik turned to his wife. “I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said. It had to begin now. No more waiting around.
“Hunting with Tak again? I swear that you two have single-handedly reduced Andor’s deer population to half of what it was before last fall.
“No. It’s not like that. I’ll be leaving for good this time. I truly have loved you, even though you’ve infuriated me enough times to make a man mad. I need to know something before I go, though: have you been meeting with House Nolan to gain their support?” He had to know; too much hung on who got the crown.
“Merik, what in the Light are—“ she started, but was cut off by Merik.
“Tell me,” he breathed in a hardly suppressed rage. His wife looked at him in surprise; she had never seen him get like this before. Angry, yes, but this wasn’t just anger. Merik was sure he had pure fury showing on his face. Faline didn’t realize that he wasn’t in a rage because she wouldn’t tell him. He was in a rage because of what he might have to do if she gave him the wrong answer.
“Yes, yes I have met with House Nolan and House Sund, if you must know and I now have their full support,” she said in an uncertain voice that he thought was supposed to sound confident. It was the wrong answer.
He moved to embrace her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he hugged her. He could already feel the life draining out of her as his dagger went through her heart. As he let his wife of two years sag to the floor, tears came to his eyes. He really had loved her, but there were things more important right now than his personal feelings.
This wasn’t the time to mourn, though. His plan had finally started and there was no going back. Wiping his dagger on the new Tairen rug Faline had bought from a merchant not five days ago, he set to work. Drawing out the clothes he had first worn into Andor from the back of his wardrobe, Merik wondered at how loose these clothes had been on him when he had first entered the city. I really have gone soft; getting fat with all these nobles and their nightly feasts, he thought as he squeezed in to his plain woolen breeches. There was no time to dispose of the body, but the whole palace would know that Faline and another were dead by the next morning anyway, and it wouldn’t matter if they found out that he had done it. He would be thousands of miles away. As he belted on his sword and sheathed the rest of his knives about his body he glanced up to find a myrdraal at the doorway to his bedchamber.
“You know where this Tak sleeps?” It asked in its low rasping voice.
“Yes. His room is two levels down and directly across from the East stair’s landing. Meaning no disrespect, but we’ve been over this; Demandred himself came up with the plan,” Merik answered with as much respect as he could show to a fade. Merik looked down to check that his sword buckle was secure and when he looked back up to answer any more questions the fade had, he ended up staring at an empty doorframe. Why can’t those bloody fades announce when they’re leaving? That gives me the chills, he thought angrily.