18th November 2003, 8:31 PM
Writing has always been something I wanted to do, unless it's an essay, which I hate btw. I've had a few false starts with some storylines that sounded really good, but they just never got anywhere. However...this time seems different! I think I've finally found the story I've been looking for! And since you guys are so cool...I'll share what I've wrote so far. If anyone else has written anything share it with us that we may gaze upon it's wordiness.
Quote:The Dangerous Quest of the Magical Super-Sword And the Events That Followed
Authored by Jonathan Garrett
It was warm sunny summer day. The kind of day where people would be extra kind to their neighbors and, if it had not already been said several times that morning alone, say “This is a perfect day!” But it had many times already, so they didn’t. This particular day however had one large flaw, though. Well…only one location with a large flaw, anyway. For you see this location contained in it what was quite possibly the worst attempt at whistling that has ever been heard, and there are people who claim to have heard whistling that could peal paint off of houses. It was that bad.
Several small forest animals skittered away to avoid the screeching sound. A young boy crested a small rise. He was the source of the noise. It should be noted that although many people told him otherwise he himself believed that his whistling was actually very good. His mother always claimed that deafness was inherent in her bloodline. He carried in his hand a bag of bread that he had just recently purchased. He swung it back and forth as he walked and, if one could call it that, whistled. As he walked through the grass he was not paying any particular attention where he was going, which is why he failed to notice the lump that protruded from the ground directly in his path. He fell to the ground with muffled thump. He jumped up angrily ready to punch whoever had just tripped him up. No one was around, for obvious reasons. He looked down at the ground. He noticed what he believed to be a somewhat middle-sized rock sticking out of the ground. He glared at it. It failed to notice his glaring.
“Stupid rock” he growled as he kicked out at it. The “rock” didn’t budge. He yelped in pain and grabbed his foot, which hurt very much at this point. After his foot stopped hurting he brushed aside the grass. The “rock” was actually, as best he could tell, the hilt of a sword.
“Why would someone stick a sword in the ground?” He wondered aloud. He remembered a while back when a traveling merchant had come to his town. Among his wares were some very handsome looking swords, although it probably would have broken instantly in two had someone actually tried to use it in battle. The boy [His name is Steven, by the way] remembered also that the swords had cost at least 300 cavels. Which, for those who are not native to this land, translates to tons of cash money.
He grabbed the sword and pulled as hard as he could, but the sword didn’t budge an inch. He tried again, but to no avail. Finally, he decided, since brute strength wasn’t working, to use his psychic powers to remove the sword. He had no psychic powers, so this attempt failed as well. In a fit of sheer rage he kicked the sword again, which for no reason anyone has been able to tell, immediately flung itself out of the ground and into the air. It fell to the ground with a clatter. Steven stared at. It didn’t move. He tentatively touched it with his foot and then quickly withdrew it. The sword remained where it was. He bent down and examined it. It was a rather nice looking sword and unlike others Steven had seen this one actually looked like it could be used in battle. He picked the sword up and held it aloft. This is the point where, had this been a movie, you would have seen a gleam of light run up the sword. It would have looked very impressive, but sadly this is only a book so you’ll just have to imagine that it happened.
There was a small rock attached to the end of the sword. Steven looked at it, not sure what to make of it. A figure off in the distance, out of the range of Steven’s whistling, who had just moments ago been staring intently at a ruby-throated warbler, noticed Steven noticing the rock at the end of the sword. The figure quickly got up and began, quite briskly, toward where Steven was.
“What is this? Who’d put a stupid rock on the end of a sword anyway?” He angrily shook the sword. The rock stayed put. He shook harder this time and the rock became dislodged and flew directly at the forehead of the figure that was coming toward him. Steven looked around when he heard the “thunk” and subsequent scream, but saw nothing due to the tall grass. He shrugged and went back to admiring the now rock-on-the-tipless sword.
“I bet this thing is worth at least 500 cavels! I boy, today is definitely my lucky day!” Steven exclaimed as he waved the sword around. The figure, which had now picked himself up, came up behind Steven. He stretched out his hands as if to grab the boy. He loomed closer. He put his hand down on Steven’s shoulders. Suspenseful, isn’t it?
“HELLOOOOO!!” The figure exclaimed loudly. Steven shrieked and narrowly missed cutting of the figures arm, who quickly jumped away from the wildly flailing boy.
“What’s the big idea sneaking up on people like that, you crazy old man? Steven fumed.
“Hey!” The man exclaimed, “I’m only 45!”
“Yeah…and that’s old. You’re probably crazy too”
The man looked about to make some retort, but then thought better of it.
“What if I were to tell you that you are the chosen one who will save this land from the clutches of evil and all that stuff?” The man asked.
“I’d say you were crazy, except that I’ve already established that to be the case.” Steven said. The man looked speculatively at the boy. He rubbed his chin. He looked upward for a few seconds. He decided to revise his line of approaching.
“Well, what if I were to tell you that I’m the powerful wizard Milragh, who has searched for years to find the mighty hero he can wield that sword you have and you hand and save the world from the evil Lord Calistan.” He looked down at the boy after finishing. The boy stared at him for a moment.
“Are you?” Steven asked.
“Am I what?” the man sputtered, unprepared for the question.
“Are you really the wizard Milragh?”
“Of course I am!” Milragh exclaimed.
“You don’t look it”
“Why you little…” he started, but then decided against going further in that direction. “Umm…what if I were to tell you that with that sword you can defeat this guy and if you do that you’ll get lots and lots of gold, jewels, and other valuables?” He could see a glimmer of interest in the boy’s eye so he added one last part. “And get the attention of lots of adoring fans…female for the most part. If you get my drift.” The boy evidently did get the drift or else the prospects of loads of treasure took a moment to finally sink into his brain.
“That sounds like fun! What do I have to do? Is this guy very far away? Should I tell my mom? And can’t we hurry up, please?” Steven shot out in rapid succession. Milragh stared at him for a second trying to decide which question to answer first.
“Why don’t we go talk to your mother?” The wizard replied.
The two set out at a brisk pace. The slightly unkempt wizard discovered then just why very few animals had been in the area. He quickly asked the boy about where he lived to head off anymore whistling.
“My mom and I live in a little village about two or three leagues from here. It’s a small village only about 200 people live there and it’s awfully boring. Would you believe that I had to walk all the way to the next town just to buy some bread? I tell our village could use a few strip markets.” Steven’s narrative went.
“Strip market?” asked Milragh, not quite comprehending the correct definition of the words.
“A strip market’s a long row of stalls where they sell all kind of great things. Krichtan has several, but our village doesn’t even have one. It’s a shame really; I’d go there all the time.
“Oh…right.” The wizard muttered, somewhat disappointedly. The two topped a rise and could see the boy’s village about a mile in the distance. It was neither large nor particularly impressive. Unless you compared to an anthill, and most people didn’t.
“Well, that’s it. Not much to look at, but it’s home all the same.”
The walked the last mile as the sun was sinking behind the hills to the west. A reddish tint colored the surrounding fields.
“That’s my house.” Steven said pointing to a small cottage near the town center. It was not exactly what one would call the “town center” since it was nothing more than the point where the two roads in the village met. It would be more accurate to say, “That’s the town’s center”. Which it was. Several chickens flapped away squawking as the two crossed the town’s center to the boy’s house.
“I’m finally home mom.” Steven yelled to an interior room as he pushed open the door. His mother poked her head through the kitchen doorway.
“It’s about time, I figured you’d be home hours ago.” His mother chided him.
“I got a bit side-tracked, but I think it was actually a good thing that I was a little late.”
“Really?” His mother said skeptical to the fact that it was. She smiled and waved to Milragh. “Who’s your friend, Steven?”
“Oh this is Milragh, he’s a famous musician or something like that.” Steven said absentmindedly as he flipped through a magazine that was sitting on a table in the middle in the living room table.
“That’s ‘magician’, not ‘musician’.” Milragh explained to the boy’s mother.
“Well that’s nice. You still haven’t explained why it was a good thing that you were late.”
“Oh…yeah. You explain to her, Milragh.” Steven said still flipping through the magazine.
“You see, madam, your son found a particularly rare and powerful sword. Also, there’s a prophecy that states whoever finds the sword is the chosen one who will face the evil Lord Calistan in a battle that will decide the fate of this world!” Milragh explained as extravagantly as he could. Which wasn’t very, but he tried all the same.
“Well, that’s nice.” The boy’s mother said, either not realizing the gravity of the situation or else events like this were just so commonplace that they lacked the importance that they might otherwise have.
“Umm…I don’t think you quite understand the situation. Your son must go on a perilous quest. You know, dungeons, monsters, fatal traps, that sort of thing.” The wizard attempted to explain but the boy’s mother seemed to him not to understand.
“Well, as long as he’s not gone to long.” She said. The wizard was obviously baffled. He had thought that at the very least she would offer some sort of resistance to that idea. He had worked for some time on the correct replies to things like “My son is too young for face such difficulties” and even gone so far as “I’ll never let my son go on such a quest, especially with some one as disreputable as yourself”, but he had no experience with how Steven’s mother was handling the situation.
“Aha!” Steven shouted, who had suddenly stopped flipping through his magazine. “I found it!”
“Found what, dear?” his mother asked.
“It’s the Magical Super-Sword! That’s the one I found today!” Steven shouted, jumping up and down gleefully. “It says in the April issue of ‘The Treasure Hunter’s Companion’ that the Magical Super-Sword is one of the rarest magic weapons in the whole word! They estimate it’s value at no less than ONE THOUSAND CAVELS!!”
“That’s wonderful!” his mother congratulated him.
Milragh was nearly dumbstruck. These people must be insane! The boy was more concerned with how much the sword was worth and him mother only cared about hot long he might be gone and whether or not he had plenty of clean underwear! He gaped as he watched Steven bounce around the room waving his magazine while his mother looked appraisingly at their newly acquired sword.
Milragh finally grabbed the boy by the arm to stop him, but Steven was moving too fast and flailing quite crazily and the somewhat middle-aged wizard fell unceremoniously on to the floor.
“Steven!” he called from the floor.
“Yes, what is it?” Steven asked still running around.
“Could you stop for a minute, please?” the wizard all but pleaded.
“What’s up?”
“I was just wondering, what exactly do you plan to do with sword?”
“I think I’ll sell it.” He said simply.
“You’ll WHAT?!”
“Sell it. That quest thing of yours sounded kind of cool, but don’t you think it would be much easier to just sell than to poke around in old dungeons trying to find money?”
Milragh had never thought of it that way before. He briefly considered it, but in the end decided that he should at least try to convince Steven to go on the quest. And if that failed, well, at least he would have something else to fall back on.
Sometimes you get the scorpion.