"Lost Homelands" (fantasy)

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Well, here is an excerpt. Note that the translation might not be good and there might be some mistakes(like prepositions, using the wrong word etc), although I did my best.


LOST HOMELANDS


Chapter 1
It was a nice spring day when Elvenduil’s melodic voice sounded while entering the room. “Good morning.” The room was untidy, clothes and various stuff here and there.
“Good morning” groaned the still half-sleeping Dwarf and turned over in his bed.
“Are you still sleeping?! Soon the sun will be high up in the sky.”
“What?! How dare you say this without waking me up first? I’ll be late for the breakfast, you know. Thanks to you!” the Dwarf said and rapidly got up from his bed.
Elvenduil was leaning against the stone wall - the only stone wall in the whole city- and as far as possible from the fireplace –the only fireplace in the whole city. “You missed the breakfast, my friend” Elvenduil smiled but disappointment was clearly seen in the face of Darlag. “Why do you, Dwarfs, only think about food and ale? We have more important things to do.”
“Like?” Darlag had not totally awaked and was now yawning.
“Like going to Anblod, dozy”
The Dwarf ignored the remark “And what do we have to do in Anblod. It’s too far from here.”
“It seems that the beer you were drinking last night hurt your brains. I told you that King Kandor invited every king of each race and country to his palace. You must have been ‘devoted’ in your cup.”
“But if he invited all kings, then why should I go with you?” the Dwarf asked, “You have to go there, not me. And know that no beer will ever hurt a Dwarf.”
“Since when did you start refusing the adventures, oh mighty Darlag?”
“It’s none of your business, blasted Elf”, said the Dwarf in a clearly not in a serious way. He soon got serious and continued “This is my home now and I don’t want to lose it. But maybe you’re right. I have to stretch my legs a little.”
“Now, that’s the spirit. And I assure you; nothing is going to happen here. We’re safe” Elvenduil said leaving the messy home. “And can you tidy this filthy building you call a home? How can you live in here?”
“Yes, master,” answered Darlag sarcastically.

Darlag had now been up and was already wearing his thick clothes that protected him from the cold of the North. It was very cold, even for this region, the northern country of Mannheim. The region is called Alfissgrand named after the race of Elves who live here.
He was standing in front of his house’s wooden door and was gazing the city of Lardin, the Frozen City, the capital of the Alfiss. He yawned and stretched to turn away the sleepiness and stood there looking the city from above, since his house is built in the higher section of the city. Even for the eyes of the Dwarves, who preferred the stone, Lardin is a very beautiful city with its impressive buildings made totally of ice, like the Palace, the Temple of Odin and the Temple of Frey, reflecting the rays of the sun and not melting because the city is built on the Frozen Mountain, the Mount of Eternal Frost. Lardin is built in a glen and the sun can see it from its rise to the afternoon, when it’s hiding beside the peak of the mountain. It is a large city and loosely built and anyone who sees it thinks it’s the largest city of Mannheim. A stream flows through Lardin but most of the days of the year it’s frozen.
This very stream some kilometers farther South becomes a great river and ends up in the Dark Lake Mearen. At the North he could see the Great Mountain chain Mordengard, which encircles Mannheim and protects it from Jotunheim and Muspellheim, weren’t the top of the mountain.
He headed towards the stream. He used to go there, especially in summer, when something troubled him. It’s a peaceful place where one can think without being disturbed. He saw there Elvenduil. He must have gone there before Darlag but he seemed to be sad.
He stood on a small elevation scratching his long beard and watched his friend. Then, out of the blue, he realized how different they were from each other. A Dwarf and an Alfiss. “What a friendship” he thought. The Alfiss are the Elves of ice. Their skin is azure and their hair white; their eyes are dark blue. The Alfiss never liked the Dwarves and vice versa, even though they had a lot in common. They even made wars and many people from both races lost their lives.
He decided to speak to Elvenduil and approached him. “Well, can you tell me what troubles your mind?”
“Oh, are you here? I didn’t hear you coming. I think about calling a meeting where you will all know what is going on.
“What do you mean we’ll know what is going on?”
“You should prepare for the journey to Anblod and leave that matters to me.”
Elvenduil didn’t feel like talking any more and thus Darlag left to do as his friend told him. But meanwhile he heard Elvenduil saying to himself that the Alfiss hadn’t been called to arms since the war with the Alfbal, the Elves of fire, some hundred years ago. Darlag remembered the stories Elvenduil told him for that war. Many and cruel battle were fought between the two races. The reason was their hatred. Ice and Fire. This hatred never ended and it never will.

 

Interesting. My main complaint, change the name. It doesn't roll off the tounge very well and I keep expecting Drizzt to magicly appear

 

Do you want to reveal something about the plot of the book and how it is connected with the title?

What means: "doesn't roll off the tounge very well"?

 

Cool! I like it. But I agree with Aikanaro, give the main character a new name. Oh, and write more!

BTW, that means it doesnt sound so good, and if you say it, it isn't a really fluid name. Get it?

 

If Aikanaro meant the name of the Dwarf then I found a new name: Regar. What do you think?

If Aikanaro meant the title of the book then see the previous post.

 

Nice. I assume it's working stage, isn't it? Sometimes it sounds as though the author were interrupting the narrator to disclose a piece of information I would work a bit on the informative parts. Still, for a sketch it's a high overall level. You deserve your supper, bard

 

Yep, it is still "under construction".
And you can call me Volo.

Here's the other part(still Chapter 1):
*************************************************


He went to his home and closed the door behind him as soon as he entered so that the cold could not get inside. He was accustomed to cold but he preferred the warmth of his fireplace. He crossed the messy room trying to find a clear space to step on and finally opened his wardrobe. The wardrobe had almost nothing in it; some clothes and a suit of armor. He picked up his armor and raised it above his head so that he could admire it once more.
It is a wonderful armor, very lightweight and made of the most durable metal, even tougher than the Dwarven Steel and in order to be crafted, divine magic was used. The armor provides protection against fire and cold and is crafted in such a way –with spikes and sharp angles- that it may overwhelm all nearby enemies with fear. It’s not a chain mail but it consists of plates that cover all parts of the body and thus it offers better protection.
He put on his plate mail and felt the same, yet strange, feeling after almost twenty years. “Twenty years” he thought. Twenty years. “When did all this time pass? I cannot understand. Twenty years”.
He picked up his warhammer from inside the wardrobe and removed the case in which he kept his hammer so that it won’t wear out. “That’s impossible”, he thought, “It’s made of Kozar, the Star Metal. It is invulnerable; nothing can harm this metal. This metal is the dream of any Dwarven blacksmith.”
The warhammer is Bagnir, the weapon that, as it is rumored, was made by Thor himself, the god of thunder, and was given as a gift to the first Dwarven clan, the Bagnir Clan. But so many ages have passed and it has seen so many battles that the warhammer have lost some of its powers.
Bagnir is the heirloom of his family. Darlag took the weapon from his father, who took it from his father and so on and so forth. But he doesn’t know how this hammer came to the hands of his family, since he’s not from the Bagnirs.
On the handle there are ancient runes and there are also two symbols on its head tangled together in a very beautiful way. One symbol is definitely Thor’s, but the other, no one ever managed to understand what it is. Maybe a symbol of a long-forgotten god. So long-forgotten that even the stars and the sky themselves don’t re-member. It glows with an inner azure light that makes the weapon look even nicest.
Darlag has this weapon under his property for many years but he is still sur-prised when he sees it. For it is ancient and it does not even have scratch or a mark that could indicate it.
He put Bagnir in his belt and headed towards the other end of the room, where the fireplace was. He dismounted the shield from the mantelpiece of the fireplace and fastened the straps around his hand.
On the shield there is a golden symbol of Thor: the hammer and the lightning. The shield -along with some other stuff- was a gift from the Temple of Thor, in his town, when he became the High Warpriest.
He took his helmet and put it on his bald head. The face of the helmet could be raised or lowered, revealing or hiding the wearer’s face. The helmet had the same symbol as the shield on the forehead.
The horn sounded ending Darlag’s thoughts. “The alarm” murmured Darlag. He quickly got out of his house and saw many Alfiss running heading to the Palace, the safest place in Lardin, from where the horn sounded. He run to the Palace and in the way he passed many Alfiss. Because of his friendship with the King, they were asking him what was going on. But he didn’t know; and it was partly true.
He crossed the huge ice double door and saw the guards in their nice blue ar-mor and with their shiny swords unsheathed. “What the Hel is going on here?” he thought. He crossed the large corridor, which leads to the Ballroom. All Alfiss that had arrived to the Palace were waiting here, in the Ballroom, for their king to tell them why the alarmed was raised and whether they were in danger.
Darlag approached a Royal Guard. “Where is your King?”
“He’s in his private chambers,” the guard answered.
Darlag was about to go to find Elvenduil when the guard asked him with a anxious voice “Master Darlag, do you know what is happening?”
“No, I don’t. But I assume you will learn soon enough.”
The guard moved his head affirmatively.
Darlag ascended the stairs in his right and continued straight to the long corri-dor. He passed other corridors, some wider and some smaller, guards, who were greeting him or questioning him, he turned right and left into other corridors. “This place is complex of corridors and rooms”, he thought, “like a maze”.
But the Dwarves have the innate ability to find their bearings easily in such places, since they live deep under the mountains, in burrows and mines. So, he found Elvenduil’s chamber quite easily.
“Master Darlag”, the Royal Guard who was standing outside the room said and bowed deeply opening the door, “King Elvenduil awaits you.”
Darlag rushed into the room, mad.
“Speak, damn Elf. What are you hiding from me? What is this alarm for?”
The Guards drew their swords and two of them headed to the raging Dwarf while the other three stayed close to their king to keep him out of harm’s way. The Counselors terrified and were looking Darlag in disgust and scorn because of their races’ rivalry. Elvenduil was taken aback by his friend’s behavior but raised his hands to stop the Guards.
“There is no need for such violence in my Palace, my friends. Darlag’s ag-gression towards me is justifiable.” Darlag knew that Elvenduil was talking to him, as well “I hide something from my people and him but now I intend to reveal it. But, please, do not tell a soul about what I tell you, unless you have my permission be-cause all will panic and chaos is not what we need right now.
Before one month, I heard rumors that Dragons will attack Alfissgard. Just to-day, in the early hours of morning, I received messages from the other Alfiss Kings. We are the only standing city in the whole region and a group of Dragons is coming here. I asked the Chief Royal Guard to bring me more specific information about the invasion.”
All this came a shock to Darlag. He could not believe what he just heard with his very ears. “But why were you hiding this from us? So many thousand lives are at stake, including mine and yours.” he shouted.
“I didn’t know what to do. And all I heard was rumors. I could not upset a whole city due to rumors.”
“What!? Rumors?! You had one bloody month to prepare for this and set up the defenses of the city. But you did ‘nothing’.” yelled even louder at Elvenduil.
“I told you it was only rumors. I cannot upset the city with no reason.”
“No reason?! And what about the promise you gave me? You said that we're safe here and nothing bad is going to happen.”

*************************************************
To be continued...

[ June 13, 2003, 08:28: Message edited by: Alexander the Great ]

 

Very good story Alex, captivating. Ancalìmon, what Aikanaro meant with the name was this i think: "Lost Homelands". It is very similar to Salvatores "Homeland". But it doesn't bother me, and the dwarves name didn't bother me either, but it's too late now so it doesn't matter.

 

I ask you to break it down. My eyes aren't especially good, and having a black/dark blue background doesn't especially help.

 

I added one more line in the end.

 

Oaz: a tip, just dubbleclick on the text and voila! it's blue on white background

 

Ameorn if I read everything in this way now I would use "patoboukala" as we say here in Greece.(it really means the bottom of a bottle but we use instead of glasses for someone with myopia)

Now here's the next part. It's small Aikanaro don't worry.

*****************************************************
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, your Majesty” it was the Captain of the Royal Guard. Everyone stopped what they were doing looked at him. “I think it’s about time you spoke to your people. They have all gathered in the Ballroom. And now the bad news.” Everyone quickly got serious in the hearing of these words that, probably, had to do with the problem of the invasion.
He continued, “Frolak is the only town that managed to send us precise information about the Dragons. Ten or twelve Dragons attacked them. ‘Red’ Dragons.” said Eldarion, Captain of the Royal Guard, emphasizing his last phrase. “They succeeded in killing two of these monsters and severely wounding another one. The number is great if you consider that the Dragons were red and that they were surprised. We expect at least seven Dragons to make their appearance from moment to moment, so I took the initiative to blow the alarm-horn. What are your orders, your Highness?”
“Who gave you the information?” asked Elvenduil.
“Queen Eleanor, sir. The Queen of Frolak has set up the defenses over the ruins of their town. She has gathered all the survivors and they stay there waiting for us.”
“Inform all the guards, tell them to stand ready, triple the shifts on the wall and assign someone to distribute weapons to anyone who can hold one. The rest of them will remain in the Palace.” After a long pause he continued, “You said ‘red Dragons’, aye? This is very strange. Red Dragons cannot survive in this cold.” After another long pause thinking the course of action they should follow ha said, “We need all priests and wizards of the city. Surely the Dragons are magically protected against cold.”
Eldarion exited the room to carry his king’s orders.
“Now you talk like a true king.” Darlag’s anger passed and he was smiling cunningly.
“What now?” asked innocently Elvenduil.
“Time to stretch our legs.”
Elvenduil understood what his friend meant and he started smiling cunningly too. But the thoughts of the invasion by seven red Dragons haunted him. “Four Dragons are enough to destroy Lardin, let alone over seven.”

**************************************************

to be continued...

 

It's pretty cool, but Eldarion sounds like it has been nicked from LoTR or something.

Sorry.

 

“Dragons at Southeast, sir! In two minutes they will be here!”
The horn sounded and Elvenduil shouted: “Men! We are going to have a terri-ble battle. Be ready and hold your swords tight; the Dragons are coming. Make peace with your gods and don’t be afraid if a fair Valkyrie comes and take you to Valhalla, for you will know that you are an Einherjar.”
However, the Dragons have a very keen hearing and heard the horn. They flew faster and faster. They knew they lost the advantage of catching them unawares and split into two groups; one from the East and one from the South.
Darlag was standing next to Elvenduil, on the city walls made of –like every other structure in the region- ice. He was ready for war, holding Bagnir in one hand and his shield in the other. His helm’s face was lowered. One could see only two beady eyes staring at the Dragons. Two small fires of fury.
“The Dragons split, your Highness. Four are coming from the East and the rest from the South.”
Elvenduil raised his eyes and looked at his left. The three ballistae on the tower were standing ready. He raised his hand to give the signal for the ballistae, the archers and the wizards to fire their arrows and spells at the Dragons.
On the east part of the city walls, Eldarion raised his hand too. The archers of the first row pulled their bowstrings and the archers of the second row stood ready to fire as soon as the first row archers fired their arrows. The wizards prepared to cast their spells.
The Dragons came nearer and nearer and the more nearer the came the most fearsome the looked. But the defenders did not fear at all because they were protect-ing their homeland, their homes and their families. A warrior who fights to protect his family is stronger than the one who fights for money or just for the pleasure of it.
As soon as the Dragons came into the archers’ range, Elvenduil gave the sig-nal yelling “Attack” and the archers released the bowstrings, the ballistae fired the huge arrows and the wizards and clerics cast their spells. The spectacle was impres-sive. A rain of arrows and magical energy poured down on the Dragons.
The magics mostly annoyed the Dragons than hurt them. But this helped be-cause the Dragons were easier targets for the second row archers. Thus, one Dragon was killed and fell down on the icy ground. But the other three Dragons were alive and attacking.
The other group of four Dragons came into the archers’ range and Eldarion abruptly lowered his hand and gave the signal. The arrows and spells fell on the Dragons killing one of them.
But the Dragons’ fury was not reduced and they continued their fierce attack. They came near enough and with their fire breaths melt certain sections of the city walls. With one stroke of their wings they pulled up in the blue sky and some of them made a circle on the air and attacked again from the same position while the others continued straight and flew over the city and attacked the walls from the inside.
The second archer row proved very useful since they could fire their arrows at the Dragons attacking from the inside while the first row was busy with the rest of the Dragons. Now the defenders had two fronts to fight.
The Dragons spread panic and destruction in the city from wherever they passed but the soldiers –magically protected against fear- kept on fighting, even though they were fewer.
*******************************************************

Ok, this is as far as I have wrote. I don't know if I post any other excerpts but the story will become even more interesting than it is now.