Dragon Story Chapter 2: Good and Evil

Click here to read the first chapter

Ayva didn't have much time to daydream; she soon had to prepare for Sindri's arrival. The dinner could sometimes be tedious, but now she was beginning to understand the business of trade, so it became more interesting. She loved hearing stories of the caravan's travels; it had always been one of her dreams to travel with them one day. To her surprise, and secret delight, the conversation was of a huge beast sighted at the boarders of Atereth Goldesh, the main country her father's kingdom was part of. 

"Our scouts saw far above in the distance a huge flying animal. His wingspan must have been 100 feet at least. He was too far away to see much detail, but from their description personally I think if could have been a dragon."

"A dragon?" Ayva heard herself say. "A real dragon on the boarders of Atereth Goldesh? Did you hear reports of any harmed cities, towns, or villages?"

"Well, I cannot be sure it was a dragon. I only said it was a possibility. We have not heard of any place destroyed or harmed by a dragon, not even of sightings. He was seen a league away from the Mountains of Arkaitz near the boarder between N'Stol and Atereth Goldesh. There are not many villages in that region, so I cannot be sure that it was a dragon."

"Do you believe all dragons are evil?" Ayva tried to look and sound innocent and naive.

"Well, I'm not sure." Sindri seemed uncomfortable with the question. "Before this sighting I never had a real grasp on the reality of dragons. I had heard stories of them in by-gone days; it has been a few centuries since the last dragon sighting, at least in these parts. I heard rumors of a possible dragon sighting in Kirdish thirty years ago, and the travelers who claimed to have seen it were known for exaggerating their stories. Dragons were more of a legend, parts of a story. I have trouble believing that this beast is a dragon."

"But do you believe dragons evil? Is there some good in dragons?"

"Ayva," Queen Larissa quietly reprimanded.

"She does not bother me, your majesty. Princess Ayva is rightfully curious. All the maidens of my caravan were of the same character when the news was brought to us. As to your question, my lady," here he paused, as if struggling to put his thoughts into words. "It is the same with all living beings, I believe. You, my lady, are not evil, but, if you will forgive me for stating, your ladyship is not perfect. There is evil in all of us, from the day we are born there is evil. Some allow that evil to take hold, and do not fight back against it; some corral all that is within them and combat with all their heart to hold at bay the evil fighting to take hold; still others struggle to decide which side will win. There is no beast on this earth that does not struggle with the evil, it is just that some allow the evil to take over. Yes, as a general rule some beasts are not friendly to humans, but that does not mean there is no good in them. Perhaps we see dragons from the wrong point of view. To a dragon humans are probably just as much of a terror to them as they are to us. A dog does not usually attack a human unless he sees the need, but do humans ever give dragons a chance? No! As soon as one is sighted brave soldiers are sent to kill it off for fear of 'what it might do'. What if the dragon is just trying to live peacefully?"

"Well said, Sindri." King Ander said. This meant that the conversation was over. 

Ayva sighed. No one could help her. Her plight seemed only to worsen.

This is a map of my story world. In the top right corner you can see Doveate where Beggar Princess is set. In the top-middle you can see a large continent. That is where this story is set. 

Here's a close up of where this story is set. Atereth Goldesh is a country of mini-kingdoms. You can sort of see Salathiel in Atereth Goldesh, and the Mountains of Arkaitz on the boarder. The other countries are Tranfel and Katarak, which was the setting for another story that, sadly, I lost. It was becoming a great story, too!!

The Simple Things

This morning I felt a rant coming on. It all started when I was trying to put away my clothes piled upon my dresser. My pants drawer has always been the one stuffed to the brim, jammed closed. Today it was beyond stuffed; I couldn't fit another pair of shorts in. So, out came every pair and I pulled out every pair of bottoms I hadn't worn, or didn't like. Suddenly, the drawer was empty enough to close. But, still, I wouldn't be able to fit anything else. I had pulled out all my jeans, intending to hang them (living in Florida it's too hot to wear jeans in summer), but when I went to my closet I found five other pairs of jeans from my grandmother hanging. So, out came those as well. Doing the same thing as with my drawer, I soon had a large pile jeans that had been hanging in my closet for a few months, never even thought of. I sat down on the mattress in front of the closet and looked into it -- stuffed to the brim, cluttered, filled with items I never used. Glancing into the back I saw the multiple dress-up dresses. "If only we could go back to the simple days!" I thought to myself. You know, in the 1800s an average working-class woman had at most four dresses: an everyday dress (maybe two), a Sunday dress, and *possibly* a dress reserved for very special occasions such as a ball. When she went to dress in the morning she simply pulled out the dress she always wore. Today we would never dream of being seen in the same outfit twice during a small period of time. Every Sunday morning it's a struggle to find something to wear to Church. "I wore that three weeks ago! I can't wear that again." Why not? Why can we not just relax and enjoy the simple things in life?

Especially in America we want choices. We demand it. We deserve it. We are Americans, therefore we have every right to rule. We can rule what we wear, what we eat, we are in control. I envy the naivety of children. A child sees the world in the way God intended it: beautiful, simple (but intricate). A child goes about his day in a straightforward manner, never fearing what tomorrow may bring. Imagine if everyone just took a step back, forgot about the busyness in life and just listened, looked, thought; just went outside and enjoyed the beautiful world God has given us; just sad down with a cup of tea and a good book; just called up a friend to talk, just because; just enjoyed the simple things in life.

An Untitled Dragon Story, Installment/Chapter One: The Dream

Here's another story using a prompt. I think this one will become more of a novel. I have hopes for it. So, here's the first installment. I'm still working on the title.....

The dream came to her again. She was locked up in a tower; a knight stood below fighting a huge dragon. She was watching from a window cheering on one side, but she didn't know which. It was disturbing, and she slept no more that night. For weeks now she had dreamt the same thing. What did it mean?

Ayva rose before the sun and dressed herself. She sat in the window watching the sun rise. As she watched, she saw a procession approach the citadel. It was the caravan that came every year to trade with the citizens of Salthiel. Ayva smiled and hurried downstairs. "Papa! Mamma! The caravan has arrived!" As she turned the corner she ran into her mother coming towards her.

"Don't run, love. You'll hurt yourself." Her mother helped her up and smiled back. "You're awake early. I was just coming to wake you." Mother and daughter walked arm-in-arm to the breakfast room where her father stood waiting.

"Good morning," he said. "The caravan arrives today."

"Yes," Ayva said. "I saw them in the distance. I think they should be here by noon."

"Why did you wake so early? There was no need today. You have no lessons because of the caravan."

"I had a nightmare." Her parents looked at each other with a worried expression. Ayva saw, and was suddenly uncomfortable. She slipped into her seat.

A servant entered by the side door. "Your majesty, a messenger from the caravan is here. He wishes to speak to you. May I send him in?"

"Of course. Ayva, we will talk later."

Formalities. Ayva rolled her eyes. It was the same every year: a messenger came requesting permission to enter and trade, and her father willingly gave it and an invitation to dine.

The messenger bowed. "Your majesties, my lady, Sindri, leader of the Stigandr, sends his greeting. He requests permission of King Emirhan to enter the citadel and to sell and trade the wares of the caravan to your people."

"The kingdom of Salthiel welcomes with joy the caravan of Stigandr, and invites Sindri, leader, to join me tonight in a meal symbolizing our partnership."

When the messenger had left, Emirhan turned to his daughter. "Ayva, Every night you seem to wake from nightmares. Is something troubling you?"

"No, Papa, I cannot think of anything causing the nightmare."

"You speak of them as one. Why is that?"

"Because it is recurring. I am in a high tower overlooking a great plain, and on the plain a silver knight is fighting a dragon. I am cheering for one, but I do not know which. There are peaceful dragons in the land, are there not? The first time I had the dream I was only confused, but it has returned every night for a fortnight. It just disturbs me."

"Perhaps it is just a dream. Try not to think too deeply about it and enjoy yourself today. You can go into town and see the caravan if you wish."

After breakfast Ayva changed into a simple green dress, grabbed her cloak and walked into town. She wandered about the stalls, admired wares, and listened to tales of foreign lands. She saw one booth with a dragon painted on the tent. Glancing around as if worried someone might see she pulled back the tent flap and walked in. A young man about her age was standing over a table with his back to her. Sensing someone in the room he turned.

"Excuse me. I did not hear you come in. May I help you in any way?"

"I don't know." She smiled nervously. "I don't really know what brought me inside. Well... it's complicated."

He motioned towards a seat. "If you wish to explain I would be glad to listen. My name is Gaven. You are?"

"Eve." She didn't mind not telling the truth since her name did mean Eve. She took a seat. "I was drawn to your tent by the painting on your tent. It's a dragon."

"Yes, I study dragon lore. My father used to train dragons, but he disappeared when I was only nine. I believe he is still with the dragons, so I study them in hopes it will lead me to him. May I ask why the dragon interested you?"

"Oh, dragons are just such fascinating creatures. Do you think that dragons can fight for good? Or are they entirely evil without the help of man?"

"Ah, here we get into the mystery of the dragon. I believe that there are more good dragons than evil ones. My father was a dragon lord, he could speak to and understand dragons. Although I have tried to, I, alas, cannot. But, he told such stories of helpful dragons, and so few of evil ones, that I am sure that an evil dragon is rare. Does this ease your mind?"

"I had hoped it would, but I fear it does not. It is not your fault, though. I thank you for your time and teaching. How long will you be here? I may have other questions later."

"You have piqued my interest now. Why would a young lady of high standing -- for I can tell by the way you carry yourself that you are of high standing; it is no secret -- why would she be so curious of the ways of dragons? But, I shall not interrogate you. I myself despise one who whittles information out of me. I shall gain your confidence and let you tell me at your own timing. The caravan will be here for a week, I will have my tent out today and tomorrow and, depending on how much business I get during that time I may be out later as well. I'm staying at the Last Harting Inn; ask for me and I will be glad to serve you."

Ayva stood and pulled her purse, but Gaven protested. "On me, please. You have given me joy to know that someone is as interested in dragons as I."

She thanked him and left the tent. Half-conscious she made her way back to the castle. She was quiet the rest of the day, pondering what Gaven had told her. What should she be wary of? Dragons or Knights? If the majority of dragons were good, she should fear Knights, but what if the dragon in her dream was one of the minority?

Character Analysis: Noelani Karina

Creating a Character Analysis is one of my new favorite things to do. It's like a character sketch, but more in-depth and, I think gets you in a better place for writing a story. I have one other character analysis I might put up here as well. Who knows, maybe one day I'll write the complete story!!

Noelani Karina grew up in the small village of Nathlien, with the family of Ione and Thurstan, an herbalist and a carpenter. She was found on their doorstep only a week or two old. The only thing found with her was a stone around her neck. It was a burnt red orangish colour. The couple, who had a three year old son, Jahomir Kaja, quickly took her into their family. They took the stone and put in with their other valuables for her to have when she was older. Within a day, Noelani fell suddenly very ill. She had trouble breathing, and was quickly failing. Ione watched over her day and night; they tried every remedy known. By the third day, they lost hope. That day Jahomir found their safe. The other valuables meant nothing to him, but the stone was curious. He ran out to show his mother his find. She scolded him for having it, and stated it was Noelani’s. The boy ran over to give it to the baby. Ione smiled at her son’s actions, and helped him tie it around the dying baby’s neck. Seconds later Noelani drew deep breaths and began to fidget. She soon let out a wail. Ione couldn’t believe what had happened, and later that night she and her husband decided to always have the baby wear the stone, if only to give them peace of mind. Noelani loved her necklace; when she held it near the fire the flames would reflect on the stone, which gave her great pleasure. She grew fascinated with fire, and was often scolded for being too close. When she was eight, another child entered the family, a girl, whom they named Esen Kalyana.

Thurstan Itamar was a carpenter by trade, but he and his son worked in the village community fields. Ione Saira was the village herbalist and kept a large garden. Noelani helped her mother usually, but when an epidemic struck the village many girls were also sent to the fields, and many, including Noelani, continued to work there three or four days a week.

Noelani had ginger red hair, deep green eyes, and pale skin. She always wore her stone, which she called her fire-stone, on a long string under her clothes so it would touch her skin. Others commented that when they held it for longer than a minute it would begin to burn. She said she liked the heat it brought. She was surprisingly strong for her small delicate-looking figure. She was quiet and thoughtful, loved drawing and being outside in the fields alone with her thoughts.

Later she finds out that she has the power to control fire. The stone contains fire from a dragon’s belly, dragon’s blood, and her blood which is the reason why her life depends on it being with her at all times. She was left at her adopted parent’s cottage by her father-dragon, who later visits her and tells her about herself.

Using a Writing Prompt

*First, sorry for not writing. I really am so bad at keeping a blog; I warned you... I decided to use a writing prompt because I couldn't think of a single thing to write, and honestly I felt guilty about not writing. I'm not using them as "I'm stuck what shall I do?" prompts, but more as "I need something to write so I'll write a random scene" prompts. I rarely write modern, so this could turn out very interesting. Here goes!*

courtesy of thewritingcafe.tumblr.com, via Pinterest.com

My head hurt terrificly and it hurt to move. Had I been drugged? The last thing I remembered was looking at a beautiful blue sky, pure white, puffy clouds, the bright warm sun. Then - suddenly - nothing. It was just a picture, but I could feel the sun. I wanted to smell the fresh air but I couldn't. I heard a rustle nearby, and I struggled to open my eyes.

"So, you're awake then?" A girl sat in a corner, looking much worse for wear. Her jet-black hair was stringy, knotted up, and hung loosely on her shoulders. She wore a short-sleeved blue T-shirt and a kaki knee-length skirt. She sat with her arms crossed and a sour face.

"Yes." I said quietly. "Who are you? How did we get here?"

"I'm --" She cut of shortly. Her face clouded over with worry and fear. "It doesn't matter who I am." Her harshness startled me.

"Sorry." I didn't mean it, but I said it anyway. "I'm, um...." The more I tried to think about it the harder it became. What was my name? What did I look like? How old was I? My heart began to race and my view began to fuzz with tears. "Do you know how we got here?"

"No idea, what-so-ever. Thought you might have a clue."

"Are you saying that it's all my fault?" I didn't bother to hide the fact that I was mad. I'd never met this girl in my life and now she's blaming me for getting us into this mess.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, it's not MY fault!"

"Look, I don't even know who I am! And judging by the look on your face when I asked you, you don't either. I'm not joking."

She looked suspiciously at me. "Why should I believe you? Of course I know who I am." There was a slight pause. "I'm Lora, from --" pause again "--South Dakota."

"Oh." I didn't believe her, but I didn't bother telling her so. I stood up to take in my surroundings. We were in a small room, not dark but not lit up. The floor and walls were cement, and a lightbulb hung from a string in the ceiling. Cardboard boxes were thrown about, a few crates were in a corner, dust and dirt was everywhere. A door was to my right. I walked over, knowing it would be locked, but when I jerked at it it flew open. I looked back at "Lara", who perked up. She scrambled to her feet and was with me in a second.

"Should we explore?" I asked. She nodded. The hall was pitch black. I swallowed loudly.

"Why don't we hold hands so we don't get lost on our own?" I know she hated the idea; I did too; but it was a good one. We both took a deep breath, clasped hands together, and took our first steps into the void.

Tips for Your Writing

Maybe you’re new to writing, or maybe you're just stuck. Here are a few helpful hints for getting back on track, or started.

There are two ways to get a story going:

• Plan out the whole story from front to back cover.
• Just write as it comes

I have experience with both, and can't decide which is better. It's really a personal choice. Try both, and decide which works best for you.

Have two or three stories going at the same time! This especially helps if your just writing as it comes. When you go dry, try the next one. Don't give up.

Make a goal. You have your story planned out. Say to yourself, "I want to get to where so-and-so means so-and-so." You have a place where, once you get there, you feel good about where you are. You've made it this far, now go ahead.

Read your previous stories. I know they were the worst. I know you wish they could be wiped off the face of the planet! But READ them and look for the good in them. See where you can improve. Maybe the plot was good, but was very badly portrayed. Or, maybe there's an amazing character who was ruined. Find the weak spots and the strong ones. Build off of that.

Read! Just reading other books, or novels will help you. Reading is an amazing help when writing. You can learn phrases, see how the characters developed, see how your attention was held. Use those tips in your writing.

Find your writing style. Some are VERY descriptive, others just can't stand long paragraphs of description. Find your style and read both. Maybe you read one way, but write the other. Try both ways.

Ask other readers/writers for help and ideas. Have a good friend read your work and give you tips. Having someone read what you have written, and them telling you if something is unclear is sometimes the best help of all. You know what you mean. You know where your story is going. Your reader may not.

Find writing tools. Planning out stories can be hard, but using a planner can really help. LampPost provides some graphic organizers found on the "Helpful Resources" page. Use a thesaurus and dictionary. Don't sit there trying to think of a better word for "like."

Plan out your characters. Get to know them. Pretend they are your best friend! If you know your characters, they will develop themselves. Using a character sketch can really help plan them out.

Forget about writing eloquently the first time! The first chapter is always hard. Just get it down on paper and go on. Come back when you're ready and it will be easy as pie!

Remember, there will be many drafts, many redoes, many changes. Don't get frustrated when the editor, or friends tell you that a part needs working on, or, even harder, that YOU need practice. They are on your side and are trying to help you. It's just as hard to tell a friend they need to work on something, as it is to receive the news.

Know your audience. Some find this difficult, or unhelpful. Determine what general age range you are writing too. If you're writing to children, use easy language.

Nanea's First Battle

This was a mental game I played the night after I watched "The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug". (!!!!!) If you have seen the movie, you might see a lot of similarities between Tauriel and Nanea. I found her completely epic, even though she wasn't in the book. Anyway, here is my jump back into writing after a very long absence.

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“Rally in the training grounds!” Oisin, Captain of the Cathair, the highest level of trainees, sounded urgent. “Quickly dispose of training weapons and arm yourselves.”

Nanea, one of the Cathair, was lucky. She was standing right next to the armory. Darting in, she found weapons. She slung two long knives criss-cross on her back, sheathed a sword in the scabbard already on her belt, grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows and ran out the door to join the others. She didn’t know if this was a drill or not. Captain Oisin sounded alarmed, but you never knew with him. As she neared the training grounds sounds of battle reached her ears. Looking up to the windows above she saw women and children rushing in, frightened, and warriors rushing out.

“So this is how it begins. Our first battle,” Dieter, a fellow Cathair said.

“Aye. I suppose so.” Nanea could barely articulate her swirling thoughts.

“Good luck!” Dieter recklessly darted into the fray.

Nanea took the scene in with a glance. Katar Tallulah had been breached--how she did not know. Warriors dressed all in black with coverings on their faces had made their way through the impenetrable forests of Exersh, climbed the steep mountains of Tallulah, and entered the center of AMRATH. Nanea hung back in the shadows to take it all in and grasp her fear. She drew her bow and began picking off the enemy one by one, never missing her mark. As her confidence grew she added more arrows to her bow. The adrenaline rushed over her as her quiver emptied. She drew her sword and rushed into battle, slaying left and right. Everything she had been taught came flooding back. Her sword was like a living creature in her hand, moving without command.

Suddenly, a sharp pain in her leg caused her to look down. Embedded in her right thigh was a dagger. Her whole leg burned with almost unbearable pain, but she knew her choices: give in to the pain and die, or suffer through and possibly make it out alive. She continued fighting as her eyes searched for a way of escape. A few steps away was a path of trees leading to a ledge of one of the surrounding mountains. Overhanging branches were at perfect distances; as a child she and her friends would swing on them from the mountain to the ground. She sheathed her sword and staggered over to the first branch. She tried to jump, but was forced to kneel in pain. As she heard someone running towards her she turned sharply, knocking him down. She pulled herself up quickly. A cry of pain wrenched from her throat as she jumped onto the branch. She swung to the next branch, then to the next. A couple times she was almost pulled down, but she kicked them off. As she reached the ledge she swung her legs like a pendulum and jumped onto the ledge, knocking down a man in her path. She pulled him on top of her as she rolled towards the edge and cast him off. Using the mountainside she pulled herself into a standing position A man in black reached over and pulled her sword from it’s sheath. Nanea froze, uncertain of what to do. She reached back and pulled the knives from her back. She twisted them in her hands challengingly, then struck. She left the safety of the mountain to draw the black men off another Cathair. Two men raced towards her unwatched back, but her long knives found them first as her arms wrenched back. She limped back to the rock wall. Leaning on it for support, she winced in pain. She began to lose feeling in her leg.

Soon the battle was over. AMRATH raced after those who escaped, tracking them down, as others began to clean their weapons and help the wounded. Nanea quickly hid the dagger under the folds of her short tunic and slowly began to limp towards the infirmary. The infirmary was buzzing with activity. Sounds of agony pierced Nanea’s ears. She fell against a chair in pain. A nurse came rushing over to her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. It’s just a little wound on my leg. I can take care of it. I will just need supplies. There are others who need help; don’t bother with me.”

“Very well. What do you need?”

“Vinegar, Yarow, water, bandages, and needle and thread.” The last two items she rushed over quietly. “It will be good practice for me. Someday I may be alone and have to treat myself.” She quickly added as she watched the nurse’s face.

“Very well.” She was obviously used to such behaviour from Cathair. “I’ll put you in a spare recovery room and you can take a bath as well. Sabine, please bring some Vinegar, Yarrow, bandages, water, a thick, blunt needle, and thread to the fourth recovery room. Also have Ajac and Ayden bring a warm bath in.. This way.” She led her down a hall and opened one of the many doors. “Here you are.”

“Thank you. Could I ask one little favour of you? Could you send for one of my dresses? My name is Nanea, daughter of Oswold, Cathair.” Nanea waited until she left, then sank down upon the bed. She shot up when she heard Sabine knock on the door. “Come in.”

“A freshly made Yarrow poultice, a pitcher of vinegar, and the other things you needed. The boys will be in shortly with your bath. Oh, here they are.” Two boys entered with a tub partly filled with water.

“Sorry, it’s not going to be too hot. Those men damaged our hot water reserve.”

“That’s alright. Thank you. ” Nanea smiled gratefully. She sank back down on the bed and looked at her leg. She placed a rag underneath her leg to save the bedcloths  a little mess. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as she touched the handle. Setting her mouth and gritting her teeth she yanked the dagger from her leg. Panting and gasping in pain she dabbed at the wound lightly to stop some of the bloodflow. Removing her tights was painful, but once done a great relief. She poured vinegar over the open wound to clean it, applied the poultice, and wrapped it firmly.

It felt good to bathe; fighting made her feel dirty inside and out. Her leg felt gloriously painless in the water.  She had to be very careful drying off around the wound. She slipped her dress over, and braided her hair to the side. One of the infirmary aids handed her a spare crutch on the way out. Nanea began her walk to the Great Hall were a gathering was being held.

About This Blog

I love writing. I like to think I am good at it. I have about six books I am writing that I hope to finish one day. This blog is just a place to share my random writings. Most of them will be scenes of what I like to call "mental games", in other words games I play mentally. They are usually set in a made up world, an "outlandish" time-period very similar to Lord of the Rings (I will abbreviate to LOTR), Redwall (by Brian Jacques), Narnia, etc. Sometimes it will be a character analysis/detailed description. Perhaps writing tips. Mainly just my scribbles. My goal is to write something for twenty minutes per day, but I know that will not happen. Not everything I write will be put on this blog. I will be lucky if I post something every week…. As always, comments are welcome. If you've made it this far, congratulations. I can ramble easily.