A bit of my stories. - Page 2

Ninquelote · 04-29-2003, 08:35 PM

Calenlassë and her horse had traveled a great distance since their first meeting with the Elven sentry. Little change occurred in the forests’ surroundings of varying trees, although it had become denser, with clearings becoming less and less common as they neared the heart of the forest. Pale white bark, nearly transparent, covered the threes that the Elves held sacred within these woods. They were not the most abundant, and could not be by far. The normal maple, evergreen and other miscellaneous trees were the majority of these woods, however the birch was in the highest esteem to the forest’s residents.
Aratoamin now had long trails of sweat running down his mottled-grey fur, starting beneath his Elven-made saddle and ending at his underbelly. Even though he seemed as if he were very uncomfortable and exhausted from the long ride, he pressed on at the will of his rider. He cared deeply for her, that much was plain, and although he was born and raised among the sloping green fields of Calendor, his heart too rested in the forest with his rider.
As suddenly as before, Calenlassë jerked her horse’s reins, pulling him to an abrupt stop. Unlike before, Aratoamin did not shift or bay in protest, but kept quiet and clam, as if sensing his mistress’ intentions. He was lead on slowly, nudged by the soft tug of his reins, pulled by his rider.
“Come, Aratoamin,” these two soft-spoken words, just like her previous harsh ones, were obeyed without question. They spurred him into a quicker walk, at pace with Calenlassë’s long, confident strides. With a slight grin, despite the circumstances of her mission, she pulled her hood down slightly, obscuring any view that would try to look upon her face. Her reasons for doing this were unknown, save for herself and her horse.
“Halt.” The command echoed abrasively through the trees, and for the time being, Calenlassë did as she was told. Her fingers tightened on her horse’s reins as the stallion’s head drooped, seeming to add age to his otherwise young and muscular form. The owner of the voice dropped from noiselessly from the overhanging boughs, an inconspicuous russet-coloured cloak covering the tall, lithe shape of a male elf. Calenlassë simply waited, knowing that more than one sentry was placed so close to the Elven province. A sly smile flitted across her face for a moment as second voice issued subsequent command to the other’s first.
“State your name and purpose.” The second voice was not as cold and callous as the first; however the same tone of authority was placed firmly into both voices. Calenlassë looked upwards; her face shadowed by the small pinnacles of light that was filtered through the tree’s enmeshed leaves as well as the hood that covered part of her face. Her smile was concealed from the, one visible and one still hidden, sentries.
“What business is it of yours, where my travels take me, let alone my name?” At these words, the first elf was slightly taken aback, and the second elf dropped from the same place in the trees to speak his part. He was nearly identical to the first, although with a slightly heavier build.
“It is in our authority to judge who comes to the borders of these lands.” The second elf replied, his voice curt and carrying the same coldhearted tone. From beneath her hood, Calenlassë’s eyebrows raised at this rather blunt assertion of power.
“It is in your authority to stop a wayfaring traveler?” She retorted, the question answered in a form as forthright as the last.
“Yes, we do not know their intentions or their permission to wander among the land.” The second elf replied, his tone going from ascertain of power to mild annoyance. Sensing such an irritation from her questioning, Calenlassë continued.
“And is it in your authority to stop marauders with evil intentions?”

Ninquelote · 04-29-2003, 08:37 PM

“Of course, they are a threat.” The first elf replied, his attitude rather of frank statements to dissuade the traveler from nearing their intended destination than any sort of annoyance. Once could even liken his tone to simply trying to stress his intelligence, and that deeply amused Calenlassë.
“And, is your authority to question your commanders and comrades?” She asked, her voice feigning concern, as if the ‘wayfaring traveler’ she was playing was searching for some sort of injustice in their judgments against her.
“No, it is not, we are under the command of our Lord and Lady, and our comrades we know.” Their combined self-confidence and annoyance towards the questions crumbled as slowly as Calenlassë’s hand, as it reached up to pull the hood away from her face. Her steed, Aratoamin, then perked up, beginning with his ears, and eventually spreading to his large hooves. He began to prance back and forth, filled with the vigor of his youth that was only suppressed for a few minutes.
“Then keep within the restrictions of your menial and low-ranking authority, and do not stop the nobles and betters from entering their own land.” This statement was harsh enough, delivered from the sentries’ superior. However, with the added sting of stating their names in a condescending voice, the humility was escalated. “Tathar and Maltalin, I held high expectations from you.”
Immediately they kneeled before the daughter of their Lord, their heads bowed low, a gesture of shame and unworthiness. With a slight rasp to his voice, the first elf, Tathar, was the first to apologize. He did so quickly, nary a space nor breath between his words. “Lady Calenlassë, we are sorry for our impudence.”
“We now only ask for your forgiveness.” Maltalin added, and a glance was exchanged between the two guards, Tathar grateful.
“Rise,” Calenlassë said, as if bored with their show of humbleness. With an upward raise of her hand, she bade them to stand, while her steed shook his head and snorted, as if he himself ware amused. Mounting her horse with the same inhuman grace as before, she looked down upon the two sentries, both with gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Make a point not to stop me any longer.”
With her final purpose achieved, she urged her stallion into yet another quick-paced walk. Calenlassë left them, with neither a wave nor an act of wishing them a goodbye.
“What is it that she requests from us?” Maltalin asked, his monotonous voice asking the confused question in an almost rhetoric manner.
“She wants us to no longer question those that come hooded and cloaked within the inner borders of this land.” The elf Tathar answered, as if this was a simple and understandable demand. “Insolent brat,” Tathar added in a slight mutter as his gaze was fixed on the road leading into the province Narvinyë. This statement was agreed upon when Maltalin nodded. The dark green fabric that covered his head made the movement a simple bob of the hood, but this simple gesture spoke as clear as Tathar’s words.

Ninquelote · 04-30-2003, 03:55 PM

Here's a bit of 'The Ballad of Thingol's Request'. It could also benamed, 'The Ballad of Tinuviel's Dowry'. I don't know yet. It's just a bit, and it's not as easily named as 'The Ballad of The Hunting of The Wolf'.

The Ballad of Something or Other

The hall, filled with Sindarin Elves
had now seemed silence-crowned
Awe-struck, they were, to see his will
yet wanting Beren downed

Death, King claimed, should come to him
for his foolish words
And he would, save for the oath
that Lúthien had heard

Baseborn! Mortal! Spy! He named
and even Morgoth's thrall
But Beren, son of Barahir
would not rise to his call

“Death,” said he, “You can give me
earned or uneared;”
But the King's names her renounced
his lordly stature spurned

Finarfin, son of Indis fair
father of Felagund
his crest upon Barahir's ring
proved him Elven-loved

Emerald-eyed, these serpents were
golden crown held high
All eyes looked towards this crest
for Beren had not lied

Melian shared with Thingol
her vision of beren
That Beren's death was not to be
issued out by him.

Elwë looked to his daughter,
in his eyes, his beloved
deeming her to be much higher
than the stars above

Sons of lords, unhappy men
and their petty kings
to these he would not give her
through Beren's emerald ring

“I see the ring, son of Barahir,
and perceive that you are proud”
but through his father Beren only
won little renown

Thingol claimed his daugher too
great a prize for him
Unless he went to Morgoth's lair
and claimed one jewel within.

Those that were in the King's court
presumed from their lord's speech
That Lúthein and Silmaril
were beyond Beren's reach.

Beren laughed at Thingol's words
an unexpected mirth
“For gems Elves sell their daughters,
when they are above worth.”

Beren swore he would return
Silmaril in hand,
And with that he bowed and left
Elwë's hidden land.

Melian did admire
Thingols' cunning plan
For sending Beren on a quest
beyond the strength of man.

But she had seen an ill fate
coming to Lúthein
Thingol's words had cost him dear
the price not just Beren.

Gwaimir Windgem · 04-30-2003, 08:45 PM

I haven't finished the Ballad yet, but I did read the story, and thought it was well-written. Calenlasse's a cruel she-Elf, isn't she?

But for some reason, it didn't really have seem to me to have the same quality as the last two; can't really say more than that. It could easily have been the circumstances, of course. But still nice, and well-written.

Lief Erikson · 05-02-2003, 02:51 AM

I don't remember whether Calenlassë’s good or bad; the story chapters are taking a while in coming and I'm reading the Wheel of Time very actively right now, which occupies my mind a lot in terms of storyline. However, she did strike me as a bit of a bully and a tad stupid.

I mean, those guards were just doing their duty. It was their job to watch for people, and when the traveler keeps talking back, it's their job to take action and impose their authority. If she's in charge of them, she should commend them for their service. The guards probably should have forced her to identify more quickly, rather than putting up with her impudence.

The descriptive quality was as good as ever. Still a bit longwinded for me, but still good

.

04-29-2003, 08:35 PM	#21
Ninquelote Elven Warrior Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: Here. For the time being. Posts: 336	Finally! The rough draft of the beginning of the third chapter! Calenlassë and her horse had traveled a great distance since their first meeting with the Elven sentry. Little change occurred in the forests’ surroundings of varying trees, although it had become denser, with clearings becoming less and less common as they neared the heart of the forest. Pale white bark, nearly transparent, covered the threes that the Elves held sacred within these woods. They were not the most abundant, and could not be by far. The normal maple, evergreen and other miscellaneous trees were the majority of these woods, however the birch was in the highest esteem to the forest’s residents. Aratoamin now had long trails of sweat running down his mottled-grey fur, starting beneath his Elven-made saddle and ending at his underbelly. Even though he seemed as if he were very uncomfortable and exhausted from the long ride, he pressed on at the will of his rider. He cared deeply for her, that much was plain, and although he was born and raised among the sloping green fields of Calendor, his heart too rested in the forest with his rider. As suddenly as before, Calenlassë jerked her horse’s reins, pulling him to an abrupt stop. Unlike before, Aratoamin did not shift or bay in protest, but kept quiet and clam, as if sensing his mistress’ intentions. He was lead on slowly, nudged by the soft tug of his reins, pulled by his rider. “Come, Aratoamin,” these two soft-spoken words, just like her previous harsh ones, were obeyed without question. They spurred him into a quicker walk, at pace with Calenlassë’s long, confident strides. With a slight grin, despite the circumstances of her mission, she pulled her hood down slightly, obscuring any view that would try to look upon her face. Her reasons for doing this were unknown, save for herself and her horse. “Halt.” The command echoed abrasively through the trees, and for the time being, Calenlassë did as she was told. Her fingers tightened on her horse’s reins as the stallion’s head drooped, seeming to add age to his otherwise young and muscular form. The owner of the voice dropped from noiselessly from the overhanging boughs, an inconspicuous russet-coloured cloak covering the tall, lithe shape of a male elf. Calenlassë simply waited, knowing that more than one sentry was placed so close to the Elven province. A sly smile flitted across her face for a moment as second voice issued subsequent command to the other’s first. “State your name and purpose.” The second voice was not as cold and callous as the first; however the same tone of authority was placed firmly into both voices. Calenlassë looked upwards; her face shadowed by the small pinnacles of light that was filtered through the tree’s enmeshed leaves as well as the hood that covered part of her face. Her smile was concealed from the, one visible and one still hidden, sentries. “What business is it of yours, where my travels take me, let alone my name?” At these words, the first elf was slightly taken aback, and the second elf dropped from the same place in the trees to speak his part. He was nearly identical to the first, although with a slightly heavier build. “It is in our authority to judge who comes to the borders of these lands.” The second elf replied, his voice curt and carrying the same coldhearted tone. From beneath her hood, Calenlassë’s eyebrows raised at this rather blunt assertion of power. “It is in your authority to stop a wayfaring traveler?” She retorted, the question answered in a form as forthright as the last. “Yes, we do not know their intentions or their permission to wander among the land.” The second elf replied, his tone going from ascertain of power to mild annoyance. Sensing such an irritation from her questioning, Calenlassë continued. “And is it in your authority to stop marauders with evil intentions?” __________________ XIAN- for hating Wiccans. MURDERER- for hating vegetarians. PREP- for hating Goths. These are a few of my favourite things, the hypocritical stylings of the most "liberal" groups.

04-29-2003, 08:37 PM	#22
Ninquelote Elven Warrior Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: Here. For the time being. Posts: 336	“Of course, they are a threat.” The first elf replied, his attitude rather of frank statements to dissuade the traveler from nearing their intended destination than any sort of annoyance. Once could even liken his tone to simply trying to stress his intelligence, and that deeply amused Calenlassë. “And, is your authority to question your commanders and comrades?” She asked, her voice feigning concern, as if the ‘wayfaring traveler’ she was playing was searching for some sort of injustice in their judgments against her. “No, it is not, we are under the command of our Lord and Lady, and our comrades we know.” Their combined self-confidence and annoyance towards the questions crumbled as slowly as Calenlassë’s hand, as it reached up to pull the hood away from her face. Her steed, Aratoamin, then perked up, beginning with his ears, and eventually spreading to his large hooves. He began to prance back and forth, filled with the vigor of his youth that was only suppressed for a few minutes. “Then keep within the restrictions of your menial and low-ranking authority, and do not stop the nobles and betters from entering their own land.” This statement was harsh enough, delivered from the sentries’ superior. However, with the added sting of stating their names in a condescending voice, the humility was escalated. “Tathar and Maltalin, I held high expectations from you.” Immediately they kneeled before the daughter of their Lord, their heads bowed low, a gesture of shame and unworthiness. With a slight rasp to his voice, the first elf, Tathar, was the first to apologize. He did so quickly, nary a space nor breath between his words. “Lady Calenlassë, we are sorry for our impudence.” “We now only ask for your forgiveness.” Maltalin added, and a glance was exchanged between the two guards, Tathar grateful. “Rise,” Calenlassë said, as if bored with their show of humbleness. With an upward raise of her hand, she bade them to stand, while her steed shook his head and snorted, as if he himself ware amused. Mounting her horse with the same inhuman grace as before, she looked down upon the two sentries, both with gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Make a point not to stop me any longer.” With her final purpose achieved, she urged her stallion into yet another quick-paced walk. Calenlassë left them, with neither a wave nor an act of wishing them a goodbye. “What is it that she requests from us?” Maltalin asked, his monotonous voice asking the confused question in an almost rhetoric manner. “She wants us to no longer question those that come hooded and cloaked within the inner borders of this land.” The elf Tathar answered, as if this was a simple and understandable demand. “Insolent brat,” Tathar added in a slight mutter as his gaze was fixed on the road leading into the province Narvinyë. This statement was agreed upon when Maltalin nodded. The dark green fabric that covered his head made the movement a simple bob of the hood, but this simple gesture spoke as clear as Tathar’s words. __________________ XIAN- for hating Wiccans. MURDERER- for hating vegetarians. PREP- for hating Goths. These are a few of my favourite things, the hypocritical stylings of the most "liberal" groups.

04-30-2003, 03:55 PM	#23
Ninquelote Elven Warrior Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: Here. For the time being. Posts: 336	Almost done with second Silmarillion poem. Here's a bit of 'The Ballad of Thingol's Request'. It could also benamed, 'The Ballad of Tinuviel's Dowry'. I don't know yet. It's just a bit, and it's not as easily named as 'The Ballad of The Hunting of The Wolf'. The Ballad of Something or Other The hall, filled with Sindarin Elves had now seemed silence-crowned Awe-struck, they were, to see his will yet wanting Beren downed Death, King claimed, should come to him for his foolish words And he would, save for the oath that Lúthien had heard Baseborn! Mortal! Spy! He named and even Morgoth's thrall But Beren, son of Barahir would not rise to his call “Death,” said he, “You can give me earned or uneared;” But the King's names her renounced his lordly stature spurned Finarfin, son of Indis fair father of Felagund his crest upon Barahir's ring proved him Elven-loved Emerald-eyed, these serpents were golden crown held high All eyes looked towards this crest for Beren had not lied Melian shared with Thingol her vision of beren That Beren's death was not to be issued out by him. Elwë looked to his daughter, in his eyes, his beloved deeming her to be much higher than the stars above Sons of lords, unhappy men and their petty kings to these he would not give her through Beren's emerald ring “I see the ring, son of Barahir, and perceive that you are proud” but through his father Beren only won little renown Thingol claimed his daugher too great a prize for him Unless he went to Morgoth's lair and claimed one jewel within. Those that were in the King's court presumed from their lord's speech That Lúthein and Silmaril were beyond Beren's reach. Beren laughed at Thingol's words an unexpected mirth “For gems Elves sell their daughters, when they are above worth.” Beren swore he would return Silmaril in hand, And with that he bowed and left Elwë's hidden land. Melian did admire Thingols' cunning plan For sending Beren on a quest beyond the strength of man. But she had seen an ill fate coming to Lúthein Thingol's words had cost him dear the price not just Beren. __________________ XIAN- for hating Wiccans. MURDERER- for hating vegetarians. PREP- for hating Goths. These are a few of my favourite things, the hypocritical stylings of the most "liberal" groups.

04-30-2003, 08:45 PM	#24
Gwaimir Windgem Dread Mothy Lord and Halfwitted Apprentice Loremaster Join Date: Dec 2002 Location: Thomas Aquinas College, Santa Paula, CA Posts: 10,820	I haven't finished the Ballad yet, but I did read the story, and thought it was well-written. Calenlasse's a cruel she-Elf, isn't she? But for some reason, it didn't really have seem to me to have the same quality as the last two; can't really say more than that. It could easily have been the circumstances, of course. But still nice, and well-written. __________________ Crux fidelis, inter omnes arbor una nobilis. Nulla talem silva profert, fronde, flore, germine. Dulce lignum, dulce clavo, dulce pondus sustinens. 'With a melon?' - Eric Idle Last edited by Gwaimir Windgem : 04-30-2003 at 08:46 PM.

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05-02-2003, 02:51 AM	#25
Lief Erikson Elf Lord Join Date: Dec 2000 Location: Fountain Valley, CA Posts: 6,343	I don't remember whether Calenlassë’s good or bad; the story chapters are taking a while in coming and I'm reading the Wheel of Time very actively right now, which occupies my mind a lot in terms of storyline. However, she did strike me as a bit of a bully and a tad stupid. I mean, those guards were just doing their duty. It was their job to watch for people, and when the traveler keeps talking back, it's their job to take action and impose their authority. If she's in charge of them, she should commend them for their service. The guards probably should have forced her to identify more quickly, rather than putting up with her impudence. The descriptive quality was as good as ever. Still a bit longwinded for me, but still good .