Young Writers Society

'There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope.' –Gandalf



Chapter One

‘When does one first begin to remember? When do the waving lights and shadows of dawning consciousness cast their print upon the mind of a child?’ --Winston Churchill


When setting down an account of one’s own life, there are always difficulties. Obviously, the first one is where to start.

Before the war started, there were many times that are very good to remember. I mind them now, looking back over the years and savouring them, like the sweet taste of wild honey on my tongue. Helping to care for the sheep that roam on the high, misty hills of Aval-lón; the island of apples and the place that I still call home. Learning to ride my first pony, a dumpy but steady little grey creature with a habit of holding her breath whenever I tried to tighten her girth. Trying to master the language of the humans who lived across the sea, and whose knowledge of our Elftongue was rudimentary, to say the least. Standing with my father in the library and looking up at the swords hung on the wall there. ‘These are the weapons of our ancestors, the previous rulers of Aval-lón,’ my father tells me. ‘One day, my sword will be up there, and you will be the king.’ I look at him, then back at the swords, wide eyed with wonder and excitement.

So many memories of so many things learnt, and yet in spite of all of them, I could still be as ignorant and foolish as a newly whelped hound pup.

A happy memory surfaces. It is summer and the day is as warm as Aval-lón ever gets. Not for nothing does the island of the elves have a reputation for bad weather. But in this memory, the sun is shining, and there are only a few faint wisps of cloud drifting aimlessly across the sky, like tufts of sheep’s wool in the breeze. I am sitting on a rock by the side of the river that runs near Carraig Éanä, the rock of birds that stands next to the hamlet where the king of the elves and his family always lives. The sun is warm on the back of my neck as I bend to pull off my boots; it makes the river water gleam and the edges of the tiny waves breaking the surface sparkle like the silver scales of a fish. I can hear plovers calling in the long yellow-brown grass, and the wild scream of a hawk soaring over the distant hills, softly purple with heather under the sky.

‘I think Lórlan’s coming.’ The voice is Dai’s, who is getting his fingers caught in the buttons of his shirt.

‘Oh, bother,’ I say impatiently. ‘Why’s she here? Why isn’t she playing skip rope or something?’ I am young enough not to want a girl’s company, and old enough to feel self conscious by it, and this makes me cross, in spite of the bright day. ‘Hurry up, Dai, and we can get in before she comes.’ So speaking, I pull my shirt off, nearly ripping it in the process, drop it onto the grassy bank with my trousers, and leap into the river, naked save for my loin cloth.

Dai jumps after me and the water springs up into the air in a glittering arch of shattered silver. The river is so cold that immediately my arms roughen with gooseflesh, and I bounce around on one toe, my teeth beginning to chatter. Dai slaps the water and grins. ‘Come on, Fal! We'll freeze if we don't move about!’

‘I'm moving!’ I dive to the pebbly river bottom and grab Dai’s legs. He turns and pulls me up, only to splash water in my eyes. Yelling and kicking the water into white foam, we dive and dunk each other, twisting and turning like two seals, until, in a pause for breath between war whoops, I hear a small voice from the bank.

‘Your clothes are wet now.’

I push Dai’s head underwater and see Lórlan standing on the bank. There are spots of wet on her tunic and she looks gravely down at the wet pile of our clothes on the ground. Try as I might, I could never understand how Dai had managed to have such a boring sister. They were alike enough, I supposed, and they both had the same quiet black eyes and smooth, fine black hair, but Dai was much more fun. Even though he was respectful, he didn’t let the fact that I was a prince and next ruler of Aval-lón stop him from giving me a ducking whenever he could manage it.

Lórlan’s grave manner annoys me, and I say, ‘Why didn’t you move them then, if you saw they were getting wet?’

‘Then I’d have got wet too.’

‘You already have got wet on your front.’

Lórlan’s hand brushes automatically over her clothes, and she sighs. Dai surfaces, spitting water through his teeth with a skill born of long practice. ‘Come on Fal’ he says to me. ‘Go ’long, ber-ber, go play somewhere else.’

She does not move, so I turn my back and make a wave on the surface of the water with my arm. The current tugs at my legs and the sun warms my cold back and shoulders.

‘Swimming is gey fun,’ Dai says, putting my feelings into words.

‘And so’s dunking!’ I say and try to push him down. He resists, grabs my arm, and another watery romp ensues. I don’t even notice when Lórlan leaves us.

*** *** ***

And in a way, that memory brings me to another one. This second one is just as important as the first. Maybe more so.

In this memory, I am older, about thirteen years. It is evening, and I am sitting on the floor by the fire in the Royal Dun, whittling a stick with my knife. The flickering firelight moves on the wall, distorting my shadow and making it very black against the grey stone. It leaves the corners of the room dark, and plays over the loom, the table, the bed skins and the weapons on the wall. The wind moans outside, and I can hear faint lashings of rain against the thatched roof. One of the dogs, sleeping near the door, sighs and scratches itself, then settles down again, squirming among its two brothers to get comfortable.

Mav is at the table, polishing a buckle on a harness, singing softly under her breath and Thas is sitting on a stool near me, reading a book on sheep cleansing. He looks up as my knife slips and splits the stick down the centre. ‘Patience,’ he says, as I throw the stick into the fire, frowning in annoyance. ‘You were cutting too deep.’

‘I always end up doing that!’ I rub the groove on the ball of my thumb where the knife has dug into my skin. ‘I’ll never get it right.’

‘Yes you will,’ Thas says, unperturbed. ‘It all comes with practise.’

I make a noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff, and glare at the fire. It leaps and burns, sparks snapping up the chimney. The logs are charred black, and one is burnt nearly all the way through. It falls down among the hearth stones with a crack that makes me jump. A headache begins somewhere behind my eyes, a painful nag deep inside my brain.

‘Mlanann it all,’ I mutter, digging the heel of my hand into my eyes. The pain only gets worse.

‘What’s the matter, Fal?’ Mav asks.

‘I’ve… got a headache.’ The words come with difficulty, forcing their way out between my clenched teeth. ‘It came on all of a sudden… ah, it hurts!’

‘Do you want to lie down? Come on, lie on your bed.’ When I do not answer her, Mav asks, ‘Fal?’ Her voice is sharp with sudden anxiety.

I scrunch my eyes tight shut. Almost without realizing it, I am rocking back and forth on my stool, and in the darkness of my closed eyelids, I see mad bursts of colours, like demented fireworks. Gold and white, blue and ruby. From far away, I hear Mav cry, ‘Fal, what is it? Talk to me! Athrachan, help him!’

Thas’s hand grips my shoulder tight. Too tight. ‘Fal…’

I shudder, and the pain seems to burst inside my head, and it is not like a firework anymore, but like an unfurling flower, each petal clear and perfect, traced with intricate and minute veins. My eyes are still closed, but I See.

I See an elf, standing on the sea shore. I do not know him, but he seems faintly familiar. He is still young, but his face is worn and lined, his black hair starting to silver at the sides. He stares out at the sea, the wind whipping his clothes and there is such a longing in his face, such a sad, aching loneliness, as though the ocean separates him from all that he knows and loves.

In a detached, unimportant way, I can hear my voice talking. It is saying strange things that I cannot understand, but I do not waste effort trying to fathom the meaning.

The gold and white, blue and ruby swirl across my sight and I See more.

I See another baby, held in a she-elf’s arms. She holds the baby close, and her golden hair falls across her face, creating a protective curtain over the child. Then she straightens, and I See tears on her cheeks, making silver trails on her tanned skin. She hands the baby to someone I cannot See, and then turns away, scrubbing at her face with her hands, weeping quietly.

The gold and white, the blue and ruby are blotted out by black shadows. All the scenes fade, and all that is left is darkness. Darkness that goes on for ever and ever. Darkness that never ends.


But the darkness did end, of course. The next morning I woke up feeling no different from normal, except for a slight reminder of last night’s headache. Mav and Thas had been more than a little worried when I collapsed and then started talking aloud of babies and precious secrets, so they had immediately called the healer. He had listened to what they had to say, shrugged and said, ‘I’m thinking here’s a case for the seers and not for me. The boy’s fine, and so is his mind. Just call me when he wakes up.’

So, when I did awake, I found I had an audience waiting to hear any tale I had to tell. The healer looked into my eyes and asked me how I fared. I replied that I felt all right, except that my eyes hurt and they were very bleary, so I couldn’t see very well. The seers nodded, and said that was natural after prophesying.

‘Prophesying?’ I exclaimed. ‘You mean I’m… a prophet?’

‘So it would seem,’ came the placid reply.

And so it was. With and time and teaching, I learned to recognize the signs before I went into the Seeing-Sark and this helped me avoid embarrassing scenes. It’s much more comfortable obliviously prophesying in private, rather than surrounded by gawking onlookers. Some people who are able to enter the Seeing Sark call it a curse. Not only is it uncomfortable, but it can be a terrible burden to bear, knowing the fate of others. I revelled in my ability, though, feeling that it marked me out, made me unique. I suppose it did, in a way, but as time went on, I began to realise that my pride was not the wisest thing to have. Seeing works both ways, as I found out to my cost.

Good story.

though awkwardly written.

first off, because it starts off as a memoir, the reader know that the story teller isn't dead. Therefore, we know he's overcome all the problems that had hurdled his way, so we already know then ending.

we know it's a peaceful ending as he's recalling all these memories in a slow drawl.

your actual writing is quite good - hardly any mistakes and such at all.

i suggest not writing it as a memoir, but as an actual story, beginning, middle and end, not end, beginning, middle, end again - that's just somewhat annoying.

have fun - and i hope you take into account my suggestions.

jai

first off, because it starts off as a memoir, the reader know that the story teller isn't dead. Therefore, we know he's overcome all the problems that had hurdled his way, so we already know then ending.

we know it's a peaceful ending as he's recalling all these memories in a slow drawl.

That's not always the case. It's not David Copperfield, it's not Lawrence of Arabia, and I'm afraid I can't very well change it now, but I'll give it some thought. Thank you for reviewing!

Hello Twitters. Well, I promised I'd read Scarab, which I did, though only half of it. Time constraints (and a shameful habit of losing things) are a curse. Anywho, I saw this and decided, rather than rushing with rubbish critiques for a story you're right in the middle of, I'll start from the beginning. Assuming you continue this, of course.

I hope you do - I like this. I'm interested already, because, in contrast to seeminglymeaningless, I do like the memoir style of the opening. Not all stories have to end in Harry Potter fashion with it being a mystery as to whether the MC survives or not. It's what happens in the middle that's most interesting to read.

Your style, I love. It's easy to read, yet sophisticated at the same time - the perfect mix. So, yeah, this was not a chore to read through. I do, however, have some suggestions - what would a critique be without them after all?

When setting down an account of one’s own life, there are always difficulties. Obviously, the first one is where to start.

I love this opening. Short, sweet, grabs my attention, makes me want to read on.

Before the war started, there were many times that are very good to remember. I mind them now, looking back over the years and savouring them, like the sweet taste of wild honey on my tongue. Helping to care for the sheep that roam on the high, misty hills of Aval-lón; the island of apples and the place that I still call home. Learning to ride my first pony, a dumpy but steady little grey creature with a habit of holding her breath whenever I tried to tighten her saddle girth. Trying to master the language of the humans who lived across the sea, and who could not be bothered to learn our Elftongue. Standing with my father in the library and looking up at the swords hung up on the wall there. “These are the weapons of our ancestors, the previous rulers of Aval-lón,” my father tells me. “One day, my sword will be up there, and you will be the cin.” I look at him, then back at the swords, wide eyed with wonder and excitement.

I really like your imagery here - 'sweet taste of wild honey' and 'island of apples' have a very pleasing quality to them. Maybe I'm just being a simpleton, but 'mind them now', whilst sounding good, doesn't appear to make sense in context. 'I remember them now' may be a good substitute, and I believe the repetition of 'remember' isn't unbearable. You mention tightening a 'saddle girth'. Remove 'saddle' and leave it as '[...]tighten her girth'. Saying 'tighten her saddle girth' is like saying 'loosen my trouser belt', it's not needed. Also, you say how they try to learn the tongue of the humans who 'could not be bothered' to learn theirs. 'Not be bothered' sounds oddly informal and out of place here, I suggest revising it. '[...]looking up at the swords hung up on the wall there.' The repetition of 'up' makes this sentence awkward. 'looking up at the swords hung on the wall there' would be fine.

So many memories of so many things learnt, and yet in spite of all of them, I could still be as ignorant and foolish as a newly whelped hound pup.

Again, nice imagery and use of simile. I particularly like 'newly whelped' - it has a nice sound!

A happy memory surfaces. It is summer and the day is as warm as Aval-lón ever gets in the whole year. Not for nothing does the island of the elves have a reputation for bad weather.

'[...]in the whole year' sounds a tad awkward. 'The day is as warm as Aval-lón ever gets' sounds just as good, I think.

Dai jumps after me and the water springs up into the air in a glittering arch of silver wetness. I dive to the pebbly river bottom and grab Dai’s legs. He turns and pulls me up, only to splash water in my eyes. Yelling and kicking the water into white foam, we dive and dunk each other, twisting and turning like two seals, until, in a pause for breath between war whoops, I hear a small voice from the bank.

'Glittering arch of wetness' amuses me, for some reason. The term 'wetness' brings a smile to my face. It's sort of like 'well, it is water!' I think removing 'wetness' and using something along the lines of 'Glittering arch of shattered silver' has a nice effect to it - focus on the silver, not the wetness.

I push Dai’s head underwater and see Lórlan standing on the bank. There are spots of wet on her tunic front and she looks gravely down at the wet pile of our clothes on the ground. Try as I might, I could never understand how Dai had managed to have such a boring sister. She and he were alike enough, I supposed, and they both had the same quiet black eyes and smooth, fine black hair, but Dai was much more fun. Even though he was respectful, he didn’t let the fact that I was a tygern and next ruler of Aval-lón stop him from giving me a ducking whenever he could manage it.

'Front' doesn't need to be there, 'spots of wet on her tunic' is fine. Also, I would substitute 'He and she' for 'they', I think it'll run smoother that way. Subtlety - I like it! You just slip in a tiny bit of information about who the narrator is, and it works this way.

Now, Lórlan’s grave manner makes annoyed, and I say, “Why didn’t you move them then, if you saw they were getting wet?”

'Now, Lórlan’s grave manner makes annoyed'. I assume you mean 'makes me annoyed' here. If so, I suggest you change it to 'Lórlan’s grave manner annoys me', which again runs more smoothly.

“You already have got wet on your front.”

Perhaps put 'have' in italics, to emphasise the emphasis (lol!) on the word.

“Swimming is gey fun,” Dai says, putting my feelings into words.

It's use of 'gey' here that I'd like to comment on. I know what it means, after a quick Wiktionary search, and therefore I know you've used it in the right context. But that's the point, isn't it - I had to look on Wiktionary to find out what it means. In addition to that, the word seems so obscure that the spell-check on Firefox is putting a squiggly red line underneath it. So, yeah, I know censoring your work for the sake of the reader is no good at all, but it's also pointless using words that the reader is going to have to go searching through a dictionary to find the meaning of, or at least be a little confused and stop reading for a second in order to work it out. It interrupts the flow.

n this memory, I am older, about thirteen years. It is evening, and I am sitting by the fire in the Royal Dun, whittling a stick with my knife. Mav is polishing a buckle on a harness, singing softly under her breath and thas is reading. He looks up as my knife slips and splits the stick down the centre. “Patience,” he says, as I throw the stick into the fire impatiently, frowning in annoyance. “You were cutting too deep.”

Now, I'm guessing that mav and thas mean mother and father, but it might be nice to clarify that in some way beforehand, before confusing the reader and clotting up the flow. Maybe I'm a simpleton, but I had to stop, think over it for a second, go back and check, before accepting that 'maybe thas means dad'. Even now, though, it's a very weak guess.

“I’ve… got a headache.” The words come with difficulty, forcing their way out between my clenched teeth. “It came on all of a sudden… ah, it hurts.”

'Out from between my clenched teeth' reads better, it's not as jarring.

I shudder, and the pain seems to burst inside my head, and it is not like a firework anymore, but like an unfurling flower, each petal clear and perfect, traced with intricate and minute veins. My eyes are still closed, but I see.

I very much like this imagery - very effective, poetic even. Very good.

I See a baby, wrapped in a grey blanket, carried in the crook of someone’s arm. It is a beautiful baby, with red gold curls covering its small head. It is human, with rounded ears and rounded features, and it sleeps peacefully as it is carried by the person whose face is hidden by the brown cloak it wears. The carrier holds the baby tight, for it is going on a journey, away from danger into safety. It must be kept safe. It is precious and dangerous and heart-breaking.

Now, you've gone from 'see' to 'See' - the consistency needs to be more consistent! As 'See' is obviously important, I'd use '[...]but I See' to take us into the next paragraph.

She hands the baby to someone I cannot See, and then turns away, scrubbing at her face with her hands. I can hear her crying.

As you've used 'See' for the past few paragraphs, and sight is a sense, I think 'Hear' would also be consistent with this. Although that's just personal preference.

It’s much more comfortable obliviously prophesying in private, rather than surrounded by gawking onlookers.

I like this, it adds a touch of humour to the end, and ends it on a light note.

Memories. Some fade, some live on forever. This story - my story - will one day be just a memory like the ones I think of and hold close. For me, it will never fade. I cannot say how it will be to other people. I can only tell it as the one who knows it best. For future generations, for her, for her who will be, and perhaps in a way, for myself.

Of course, she-who-will-be would be laughing her head off at that.

Now, I'm not sure if that last sentence is a note from you (an in-joke that I don't get, perhaps?), in which case then it's not part of the critique. I like the last paragraph, it sets us up for the rest of the story, leaves us eager for more. If, however, that last line is part of the end, then I suggest either removing it completely or modifying it - it's the 'laughing her head off' that really clashes with the rest.

Again, I like this. You have a confident style and write clearly and well. You have some fantastic use of imagery which is really pleasurable to read, and you are confident in your extensive vocabulary skills - over confident at times, to the point where we don't understand the odd word! The same applies to your world - you tend to immerse yourself so much in your own world that you seem to unconsciously take it for granted that the reader will know a certain word (such as mav and thas). This can all be fixed on revision. This obvious (but not over-obvious) knowledge of your world is attractive to the reader, who is eager to learn more as a result.

This was great work! You're a very talented writer. I hope you take some of my suggestions into consideration, but otherwise, keep writing!

-Kyle

*dances stupidedly*

You've began writing it! Yay! *tackles*

I agree with all of Smurf's suggestions. They're right on par. However... I disagree with seeminglymeaningless in the manner of the memoir fortelling Fal's obstacles. It may sound like Fal overcame all these obstructions but it doesn't mean that he's still alive. Perhaps Fal IS dead, and it is his spirit telling his tale. Perhaps Fal died upon a battlefield...

The opening is worthy for me to keep on reading for it caught my attention wholly.

Last thing I can suggest is to setup a dictionary for the reader to lookup your definations of the Elfish Language. This will help a little in restricting confusion, thus halting the interuption of flow as Smurf mentioned.

PM me when more is posted please.

Well, I hope I don't repeat Smurf too much, but you asked for a falcon's eye, so here we go!

Learning to ride my first pony, a dumpy but steady little grey creature with a habit of holding her breath whenever I tried to tighten her girth.

lol, this just made me smile, darling, ‘cause I’ve ridden horses who do this!


Why isn’t “thas” capitalized.

“Patience,” he says, as I throw the stick into the fire impatiently,

If he’s advising patience, I think we get it that he’s impatient

“I always end up doing that!” I exclaim. “I’ll never get it right.”

I don’t think you need “I exclaim” as there’s an exclamation point.

“It came on all of a sudden… ah, it hurts.”

Just a thought—it might have more punch if you ended this sentence with an exclamation mark

When I do not answer her, mav says, sharp with sudden alarm, “Fal?”

This sentence just feels a little awkward, especially the last bit, “sharp with sudden alarm.” Perhaps if you said “her voice sharp with sudden alarm” or something like that, but the phrase just jerked me out of the flow of the story, which is never a good thing.

It is human, with rounded ears and rounded features, and it sleeps peacefully as it is carried by the person whose face is hidden by the brown cloak it wears.

I think this sentence could be better if you split it in two, describing the baby in one sentence and its carrier in the next: as it is, it just feels like a lot of visual description all scrunched into one place and I don’t have time to process it all.

It must be kept safe. It is precious and dangerous and heart-breaking.

While I realize the general rule of “show don’t tell” doesn’t quite apply here, you could do with a little more showing than telling, especially in the second sentence. Even just presenting it differently, maybe more as a bombardment of emotions or sensations rather than just bare facts, might help.

In a detached, unimportant way, I can hear my voice talking. It is saying strange things that I cannot understand, but I do not waste effort trying to fathom the meaning.

I really like the way you say “It is saying” rather than “I am saying”—a very good distinction under the circumstances. The clause that comes at the end, however, after “but,” has a slightly clunky feel, like the words aren’t all pulling towards the same meaning. Maybe trying to reword that would give it a smoother flow; perhaps something like “but I don’t even try to fathom its meaning” or…something. Hmmm….this is a tough one.

The gold and white, blue and ruby swirls across my sight once more, and I See more.

Okay, two things. First, you name four colors, yet use a singular verb. What if you said “the gold, white, blue, and ruby swirls sweep across my sight” or something like that, as it’s difficult to describe just pure color. Also, you have two “more”s in close proximity, as I have highlighted.

I See another baby, held in a woman’s arms. This woman is an Elf, I realize.

The “I realize” jerks us out of the pure experience, reminding us that we are but outside observers. Perhaps this was what you were going for, I just wanted to let you know.

her dark hair falls over her face, creating a protective curtain over the child

The gold and white, the blue and ruby are blotted out by black shadows.

There you go! That’s the way to describe pure color! Very well done.

Darkness that goes on for ever and ever. Darkness that never ends.

I’m afraid ‘tis redundant, darling. If you really want to keep the “never ends,” tag it onto the end of the first sentence: “ever and ever, that never ends.” All the same, I’d say pick one or the other, not both.

morning I woke up feeling fine,

I have an issue with the word “fine” in general, and mostly it’s because the word is simply too general, and there are so many other wonderfully descriptive words and phrases that you could use instead! “feeling like myself again”, “feeling as if nothing had changed”, even “feeling normal”

Mav and thas had been more than a little worried when I collapsed and then started talking aloud of babies and precious secrets, so they had immediately called the healer.

How do we know this? Does someone tell him? If so, who, and when, and how does that person react to/treat him?

I replied that I felt alright,

Minor thing, but as far as I know, “all right” is meant to be two words, not one. Might be different for British grammar, but that’s how the Yanks do it.

“So it would seem,” they replied placidly.

Do they all say this at the same time? ‘Cause right now I’ve got a vision of 3-5 hooded men all chorusing it in union, in very dry, chant-y voices.

Memories. Some fade, some live on forever. This story - my story - will one day be just a memory like the ones I think of and hold close. For me, it will never fade. I cannot say how it will be to other people. I can only tell it as the one who knows it best. For future generations, for her, for her who will be, and perhaps in a way, for myself.

I’m not entirely sure that you need this last bit. Of course, it depends on your next chapter, but I think the place you ended before this, about Fal finding out at his cost, set us up very nicely for the rest of the story without this little interjection.


General Comments

Okay, I really enjoyed this snippet of Fal’s story, darling! You did his character very well, and I could really see a contrast between the slightly wiser, more tired man looking back on all this and the rather brash young man in the middle of it. I am a little curious about the lack of capitalization for thas and may, especially as they seem to be the only two you don’t capitalize. Also, while I thought the Winston Churchill quote at the beginning was very good, it did rather set a certain tone that was a little difficult to overcome: naturally, when one sees a Churchill quote, one expects something set or at least based around his time period or general situation. Just a note there.

Your beginning was very good, very intriguing, but not exactly what I’d call a hook. You started out slow, which is fine for the kind of material you were handling in this chapter, but perhaps not for the very beginning of a book. Perhaps throw something into that first sentence that will surprise us a little more, intrigue us, make us go “What the heck?” and keep reading.

The world you’ve created is very good, but I think it could have used a little more description, a little more to give us a better sense of where we are. What you have on that count is excellent so far, which tells me you’re fully capable of bringing us more fully into your world, just add a few more little details here and there. The note about the warm sun on the back of Fal’s neck before he swims is just such a detail, and a great example of what you’re capable of. What does the water feel like when he jumps in? Warm and soothing? Or a welcome coolness from the heat of the day? How deep is it? How wide? You say it’s evening when he has his first Seeing episode, and that there’s a fire. Are there windows that let in the sun’s dying light, or is it all shadows from the hearth? Is it a chill evening, a warm one, a wet one? Is he sitting on a bench near the fire, on the stones before it, on a special chair just for him? I don’t mean to bombard you with questions, but it’s these kind of things that bring us more fully and solidly into the moment, and of course I’m not saying you should answer all of them. These are just a few ideas.

Overall, though, a really great start to what promises to be a very intriguing story. Keep at it, darling!

A Winston Churchill quote. Great for pulling me in .

Although gyr and Smurf have sorted it throughly with precision, I felt like I need to add my two pence.

I disagree with seeminglymeaningless on the memoir argument. I haven't read Scarab yet, but from what gyr says about Fal being a brash, young man in that, this really does read like the POV of someone much wiser, and experienced. You've subtly shown he's learned from the previous events by your style of writing.

Talking of style, I love it. It carries a sense of maturity around, furthering Fal's character. Your ending also struck true for me, having often pondered on such matters.

~Fan~

Chapter Two

‘In order to be an immaculate member of a flock of sheep, one must above all be a sheep oneself.’ --Albert Einstein


The ewe squirmed between my knees, cross and uncomfortable. I pulled its head back and lifted its upper lip. A mouthful of broken teeth stared back at me, and I said to Cadhan, ‘Here’s another one. Broken teeth.’

‘Sa.’ He took the dye stick and drew a big red ‘X’ on the ewe’s rump. I released her, and with an indignant shake of her head, she ran away down the hillside to join the rest of the flock, which the dogs were keeping in a tight knot. I wiped my sweaty forehead with dirty hands. Even though the day was a cold one, sweat was running freely into my eyebrows and off the end of my nose. It was Mis Gwynngala, the month when we sorted the flocks before that year’s tupping, and wrestling with smelly, uncooperative ewes that didn’t want to be sorted was a task that everyone took part in.

Dai brought up the next ewe, whistling to Cleren, his wolfhound, who deftly herded the protesting sheep into my arms. I held her under the throat, and lifted her lip. The teeth were all large and straight, so I checked her hooves, mouth and udder before releasing her.

‘Is she all right?’ inquired Brod’ewedh. He was keeping the record for this flock, and his stub of charcoal hovered over the roll of parchment like a hunting sparrow hawk.

‘Da, she’s fine,’ I replied, and he wrote a number down.

‘How many bad ewes in this flock?’ Cadhan asked, massaging his right shoulder. ‘Hai mai, my arms are sore.’

Brod’ewedh counted and said, ‘Twelve so far, out of fifty four.’

‘Twelve for the butcher’s knife.’ Cadhran flapped his hand about. ‘I am so hot!’

‘Nesh,’ Dai called over his shoulder, on his way back to the flock.

The next ewe’s feet were red and sore: footrot. Brod’ewedh looked at me. ‘Do we keep this one, Fal’ebren-ner? We kept her in last season and she had those twins that were born with liver damage -- remember?’

‘They died,’ Cadhran said, rather unnecessarily.

I nodded. ‘Sa… Mark her, then.’ Cadhran did so, and she ran to join her flock fellows, oblivious to the red ‘X’ on her back that meant she was destined for the butcher’s knife.

‘Would Athrachan approve?’ Dai asked. ‘Shouldn’t you ask him?’

‘I think I can decide for myself,’ I retorted, bristling.

‘Da, da lowr.’ Dai raised his hands and fanned them in the air, as though trying to cool any hot temper on my part. ‘I was only thinking.’

‘Alright then,’ I said graciously. ‘Next.’

We finally got through that flock, and sent them on their way. A few of the ewes had the Sense, so we could make it known the way we wanted them to go without too much help from the dogs. Sheep did not have very interesting minds, I reflected, watching them stream away down the slope and up the opposite hill. They were intelligent in their own way, but it was difficult trying to make them keep another’s idea in their heads for more than a few minutes.

Now, birds… I smiled and reached out with my mind to touch Codahüti’s. She was back at Carraig Éanä, but her thoughts came clearly to me. Sheep? Have you not finished with sheep yet?

Na, only with this flock.

Through our mental Sense-link, I felt the giant bird’s amused contempt. Pathetic woolly creatures. And yet you depend on them to live.

That’s stretching it a bit! I don’t need to depend on sheep. We keep them to support us. As much say that you depend on them, because you eat them.

When I can get away with it. Will I get a share in the twelve that will be killed?

If I can manage it.

Sa da.

I could feel her anticipation clearly. Too lazy to get your meat yourself? I teased. Or too feeble?

As if. If I can cope with you on my back, then I think I’m strong enough to carry off a full grown sheep.

What’s that it says about a haughty spirit before going before a fall?

I can’t fall. I have wings.

‘Fal…’

‘Mm.’

‘Fal.’

‘Yes!’

‘Have you finished talking with Codahüti?’

‘Yes, since you interrupted.’

Dai grinned. ‘Tell her that if we don’t get a move on, she won’t get any roast sheep at the slaughter feast.’

I grinned back and relayed the message. Codahüti said, Then get a move on! What are you waiting for?

‘That bird,’ I said to Dai, ‘is bossy.’

‘She’s a perfect match for you,’ Dai said.

‘Are you suggesting…’

‘No, no, of course not. Come on and do as she-who-holds-all-power commands.’

Tell him I object strongly to that name.

He knows you do already.

We went down the hill side, stepping over embedded rocks and odd holes and hollows in the grass. The others were already climbing the next hill, and we joined them at the top. Beyond this hill, the ground levelled out and looked like a lumpy rug, with small hillocks and mounds rising out of the green-brown grass. More hills rose in the distance, ranging in colour from mossy to deep green, with the farthest ones coloured a mottled brown, laced with purple and red heather, mist curling around their tops.

Uthra’mol pointed left. ‘There’s another lot along there; I can Sense them.’

More sheep. Succulent and dripping fresh blood from warm flesh…

Na, roasted and dripping grease! Aloud I said, ‘Get a move on, then.’

I said you two were well matched, Dai murmured in my mind.

You just wait until you meet your own Sense-partner, I replied. Then I can jeer at you.

I’m not jeering!

Are you not? Then you’re doing a remarkably good impression of it.

Don’t prickle, Fal. I haven’t found anyone yet. I’m waiting still.

Maybe when you join the EC, you’ll find one who you can bond with.

I will.

You will?

Yes! I meant to tell you. Base Captain Resek’myr approved my application, and because you and your father put in a good word for me, I’m to join your squadron.

Oh wonderful!

Just don’t be too harsh on me, will you? As I’ll be under your command and everything.

I always treat my troopers fairly! I declared. You’ll be no exception.

Diolch.

When are you to join up?

Some weeks from now; I’m not sure exactly when. Resek’myr said that I should wait for a bit. Something about trouble across the seas?

We could see the sheep now, busily grazing, spread out over the land. Some of them looked up uneasily as we approached, and I sent out a reassuring message to them, telling them that we meant no harm. Not fully convinced, a few of them began to drift away.

I’ll tell you when we break at noon, I said to Dai. For now, send Cleren after those stragglers.

Sa. Dai whistled, and Cleren streaked to obey him. The others had already sent their dogs to round the sheep up, and within a short time, they were gathered into a tight bunch. Cleren brought up the first ewe, and the sorting began all over again.


** ** **

‘Now will you tell me?’ Dai asked.

I stretched out my legs in front of me, feeling my muscles ache. We were sitting on an outcrop of rock near enough to Carraig Éanä to be able to see the wall of the hamlet where we lived. The hamlet took its name from the huge, rugged rock it was built next to; a dark mass against the sky with harsh edges and jagged points.

‘Tell what?’ Cadhran asked, untying the strings of the bag that held our lunch and Brod’ewedh’s notes. He laid out seven small bundles of cloth, and we each took one.

‘About the trouble,’ I replied, then bowed my head and recited the Maker’s Blessing over the food. ‘Gans hanow ag a Dhéanamh, ny iarr tabhartas war seo sosten.’

‘What trouble?’ Cadhran asked again, after the Blessing had finished.

‘Oh, you know,’ I said, biting into an oat cake, and waving it around in the air to emphasise my words. ‘Everyone - the old men and the captains and people - are shaking their heads and murmuring about trouble over the seas.’

‘Oh that trouble. I thought you meant something wrong with the sheep.’

‘You’re too much of a shepherd, Cadhran,’ I said dismissively. ‘This is more important that a ewe’s foot trouble. Thas is worried about the Sersurans.’

‘They’ve said that they’ll make trouble for years, though. What’s new about that?’

‘They’re gathering their forces together like they actually mean to march. Kiona’s preparing for any trouble, and she’s sending messengers to Aval-lón to discuss an alliance.’

That made all the others stop short in amazement. Dai put down his bannock, and Odhran exclaimed, ‘Really?’

‘Of course really,’ I replied, nettled. ‘Do you think I’d say it if it wasn’t true? Thas thought for some time about it, but he agreed to see them. They should be here in the next week or so, and he was going to announce it publicly in a few days.’

‘Does he mind you telling us?’ Dai asked.

‘Oh, I don’t think he will.’ I shrugged. ‘After all, it’s important. The Kioni and the Danann have never been exactly friendly with each other. An alliance - if we do end up with one - is like a milestone in our history.’

‘Will Athrachan agree to an alliance?’ Uthra’mol asked.

‘I don’t know. Aval-lón doesn’t really need one at present. We’re an island, and the Sersurans are right at the bottom, way beyond Kiona and the other lands. Kiona seems to be the only country that’s getting worried about this.’

‘Shouldn’t they? The other lands, I mean,’ Hebask’breä asked.

I grinned; Heb had no sense of direction and could get lost trying to find his way out of a paper bag. ‘Not if they know their geography or their history.’

Heb lifted one shoulder and smiled without saying anything. I drew my knife and scratched on the rock beside me. ‘Look, here’s the Isle of Aval-lón. We’re up north. Below us, across the sea, there’s Kiona and all the other countries are joined onto it, see?’ Heb nodded, and I continued, ‘Below Kiona is Daenon, Torn and Lavra. If they side with anyone, it’ll be Kiona, as they have trade agreements. Below Daenon is Sheiss. Sheiss is neutral, always has been, and probably always will be. Under Sheiss are Florian and Raouil. These two,’ I pointed to them on my crude, scratched map, ‘count as one, as they are governed under one monarch. For now, they’re also neutral, but I’m thinking they’ll turn to Sersura if she looks like winning.’

‘I never did like geography,’ Heb said thoughtfully. ‘Now I see why.’

‘To the west of Kiona,’ I said, ignoring him, ‘is Carathara - you know about that. Only the part Elves inhabit the land there. Next to Carathara is Seczuin, which stretches down to meet Atatzuin, which joins onto Sersura. Seczuin is anxious to get back Atatzuin, which the Sersurans managed to capture in the last war, but they aren’t particularly friendly towards Kiona either.’

‘You sound like a history book,’ Dai observed.

‘I’ve finished now,’ I said indignantly. ‘If the Kioni want war, they’ll get help from Daenon, Torn and Lavra. And, possibly, the Danann. Us.’

‘Well, now that you’ve finished with the lecture, what about eating your lunch?’

I sighed, rolled my eyes and finished my half eaten oat cake. ‘I’m just trying to educate you a little. Dig your head out of the sand, that sort of thing.’

Heb shrugged. ‘I think I understand now. People are making alliances and getting tense towards each other, and they want to drag us into it. Athrachan will decide when the Kioni emissaries come.’

‘Sa. What’s not to get?’

Heb blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s a saying.’

‘Not one that I’ve ever heard of.’

‘That’s hardly impressive.’

Heb gave his silent shrug and shoved the last of his food into his mouth. ‘Shall we start again?’ he asked.

The others and I all hastily finished. Whistling to the dogs, who had waited patiently throughout the whole history and geography lesson, we packed up and went in search of the next flock.

Mwahahaha! *sings* I got here before Smuuuurf! I got here before Smuuuurf!

I gripped the ewe firmly between my knees and lifted its upper lip. A mouthful of broken teeth stared back at me

Two little things, 1) “gripped,” at least to me, seems to indicate something done with the hands, perhaps you could say “braced” or “squeezed”? 2) The imagery of the mouthful of broken teeth staring at him suggests he’s facing those teeth, and it confused me a moment ‘cause I was like, “Wait, isn’t he…over the sheep?”

we sorted the flocks before that year’s tupping,

Um…this may just be me, but what’s “tupping”?

difficult ewes that didn’t want to be sorted

Redundant, we don’t need to know both “difficult” and “didn’t want to be sorted,” as the one indicates the other

He was keeping the record for this flock, and his stub of charcoal hovered over the roll of hide that he was using to take notes on

You already mention that he’s keeping records, so you don’t need to add that the roll is for the notation of those records.

next ewe was recognized as one

Don’t need “recognized as”

Out of the seven who were checking this particular flock - me, Dai, Cadhran, Brod’ewedh and Odhran, Uthra’mol, Hebask’breä, who were further down the hillside holding the flock, we all had the same amount of shepherding experience, but I had the most authority.

Just feels like a rather long, slightly awkward sentence, especially if you consider it without the list of names in the middle: “Out of the seven…we all had the same amount of experience.” It just feels off. Oh, I also think you need a dash, not a comma, between “flock” and “we.”

“I think I can decide for myself,” I retorted, bristling.

“Da, da lowr.” Dai raised his hands and fanned them in the air, as though trying to cool any hot temper on my part.

“any hot temper on my part” seems out of place, as we know he’s bristling, so there’s obviously some hot temper there.

it known to them the way we wanted them to go

Probably just be easiest to eliminate the first “them.”

I smiled and reached out with my mind to touch Codahüti’s.

Yay! I was wondering when we were going to see her!!!

Sheep? Have you not finished with sheep yet?

I like her…

I felt her content at the prospect.

In this context, I think it’s supposed to be “contentment,” but I could be wrong.

Beyond this hill, the ground levelled out and looked like a lumpy rug, with small half-hills and mounds rising out of the green-brown grass. More hills rose in the distance, ranging in colour from mossy green to a green so dark they looked black, with the farthest ones coloured a mottled brown and green, laced with purple and red heather, mist curling around their tops.

Ahhh…beautiful description, darling.

I’m not jeering!

Are you not? Then you’re doing a remarkably good impression of it.

hehe…

I sent out a reassuring message to them, telling them that we meant no harm. Not fully convinced, a few of them began to drift away.

Smart sheep…

“They’ve said that they’ll make trouble for years, though. What’s happened to change that?”

I’m not sure “change” is the word you want, as they obviously are starting to make trouble; you could pick a different word, but it would work just as well to cut that whole bit off and just say “What’s happened?”

Heb lifted one shoulder and smiled without saying anything. I drew my knife and scratched on the rock beside me. “Look, here’s the Isle of Aval-lón. We’re up north. Below us, across the sea, there’s Kiona and all the other countries are joined onto it, see?” Heb nodded, and I continued, “Below Kiona is Daenon, Torn and Lavra. If they side with anyone, it’ll be Kiona, as they have trade agreements. Below Daenon is Sheiss. Sheiss is neutral, always has been, and probably always will be. Under Sheiss are Florian and Raouil. These two,” I pointed to them on my crude, scratched map, “count as one, as they are governed under one monarch. For now, they’re also neutral, but I’m thinking they’ll turn to Sersura if she looks like winning.”

“I never did like geography,” Heb said thoughtfully. “Now I see why.”

“To the west of Kiona,” I said, ignoring him, “is Carathara - you know about that. Only the part Elves inhabit the land there. Next to Carathara is Seczuin, which stretches down to meet Atatzuin, which joins onto Sersura. Seczuin is anxious to get back Atatzuin, which the Sersurans managed to capture in the last war, but they aren’t particularly friendly towards Kiona either.”

While I’m sure this is all very accurate, I found it difficult to follow so much information at once, especially with so many unfamiliar words thrown in. Even if I did understand, I doubt I’d be able to remember much past this scene; do you think you could possibly cut it down to just the really important bits, the bits that will directly affect Fal and the story?

“I’m merely shedding a little light in order to break through the clouds of ignorance in which you seem to revel in seeing your life through.”

I think this sentence needs a little trimming. For instance, you could chop the whole second half down to “the clouds of ignorance in which you seem to revel.” You get the idea.


General Comments

Really excellent chapter here, darling! I liked to see Fal getting his hands dirty, as it were, and it felt like a kind of “calm before the storm” buildup, done very well, I might add. Where did you learn sheep husbandry?

One little question: I wasn’t entirely sure where we were! For awhile, I thought Fal had left Avalon (forgive me, I can’t spell it as you do), especially with that talk of some kind of ED and Base Captain, which sounded, to me, very modern-military.

Afraid I don’t have much else to say, darling! Good work, and keep it up!

I just dropped in quickly to say I'm really enjoying the story. Like immensily. Until the Holidays kick the bucket, I'm afraid I cannot do any editing, not even on my own work.

But I wanted to let you know I read chapter 2, and I'm offcially hooked. PM 3rd chapter??? *puppy dog eyes*

So...where's the next chapter!

I am so incredibly sorry. Actually, I don't know why I'm apologising, it's this stupid internet that should be. You have no idea how difficult it is to stop myself from swearing right know. *posts a blog entry* Yeah, don't go there *points to blog* It does not show a very pretty side to Kyle.

Anyways, in explanation to all this, my internet crashed and, despite what Firefox is supposed to do, it came up with some message saying 'No post mode specified', whatever the hell that means. Anywho, what I had of the critique up until the crash was very in-depth - a comment for every paragraph, that sort of thing. And I feel that I will be doing both you and myself a disservice if I do not post the critique as it was intended. Therefore, I won't be posting a general critique, I will re-write my original. I won't, however, be doing this tonight, as it is now 10.45pm, and I need to go to bed. So, I will post it tomorrow. So, if you've written Chapter 3, could you wait until after tomorrow before you post it? I will try my very best to do this critique by then. If I fail, then go ahead with the next chapter - I'm sure I will catch up.

A short comment on the piece - the first half wasn't, I think, up to par with your first chapter. The second half, however, was immensely enjoyable, and back to your original standard!

Again, I'm very sorry,

-Kyle

Very interesting, it was easy to read and had a steady pace to it. The first paragraph caught my attention quickly and I can place myself in the character's shoes because of the memories. I've yet to know what your character looks like though and would like to read more about the two siblings. If you could, please pm me when you have the next part available for reading.

Unfortunately, if it's a memoir, we already know the ending- he lives. Also, his tone can tell us whether or not he comes out happy.

However, this can be easily remedied. You can suprise the readers at the end by having him die, so that he's writing from this world's heavan or something. You can also make it where somebody else is writing about him.

Otherwise, very, very good. It sound professional, even. Only 15? If you want to be a writer, you could consider publishing. You know, start early.

Well, here I go again. Hopefully the internet will behave.

Now, I haven't read any of Gyr's critique (apart from the first couple of lines - I can see a critique speed-war breaking out!), so forgive me if I repeat her.

Firstly, some general comments: I liked this, though I didn't think the first half was as good as the previous chapter. Fortunately, though, you got back to your old standards during the last half, and I very much enjoyed that bit.

Now, for the in-depth stuff.

I gripped the ewe firmly between my knees and lifted its upper lip. A mouthful of broken teeth stared back at me, and I said to Cadhan, “Here’s another one. Broken teeth.”

Not a bad opening paragraph. I agree with Gyr on the broken teeth 'staring' bit being a bit odd, but not overly so. Also, I think it brings us quickly into the chapter, to get us interested - but perhaps a little too quickly. I have no idea where I am currently, which isn't a bad thing for the opening sentence or paragraph, but you fail to rectify this in the next one.

“Sa.” He took the dye stick and drew a big red X on the ewe’s rump. I released her, and with an indignant shake of her head, she ran away to join the rest of the flock, which was being kept in a tight knot by the dogs, and she burrowed in among her fellows. I wiped my sweaty forehead with dirty hands. Even though the day was a cold one, sweat was running freely into my eyebrows and off the end of my nose. It was Mis Gwynngala, the month when we sorted the flocks before that year’s tupping, and wrestling with difficult ewes that didn’t want to be sorted was a task that everyone took part in.

'X' should be in apostrophes. Also, I would modify the next sentence. You tell us she joins the flock, then you describe the flock, and then you tell us she joins it a second time, albeit in a reworded fashion. Perhaps replace the beginning of the sentence with the end: '...she ran away and burrowed in among her fellows in the rest of the flock, which was being kept in a tight knot by the dogs.' Something like that.

You tell, instead of show, slightly in the last couple of sentences, though it's at an acceptable level. You have to be careful not to over-do this though, as you do later on in the chapter.

Dai brought up the next ewe, whistling to Guenhwyvar, his white wolfhound, who deftly herded the protesting sheep into my arms. I held her under the throat, and lifted her lip. The teeth were all fine and big, so I checked her hooves, mouth and udder before releasing her.

'...fine and big' sounds rather weird - I have this image of a sheep with Bugs Bunny teeth! 'Fine' also sounds rather unnecessary. Perhaps just leave it at something like '...teeth were straight...' Short, sweet, simple.

Also, there a disappointingly small amount of dialogue thus far. Instead of saying that Dai brought up the next ewe, have Dai say 'Here comes the next one' or something of the sort. Have them joke together. This is a mundane task, surely they'll be wanting to relieve the boredom somehow?

“Good?” inquired Brod’ewedh. He was keeping the record for this flock, and his stub of charcoal hovered over the roll of hide that he was using to take notes on.

“Good,” I replied, and he wrote a number down.

“How many bad ewes in this flock?” Cadhan asked.

Brod’ewedh counted and said, “Twelve so far, out of 54.”

OK, so you're starting to talk again here, but it's hardly riveting stuff. Monosyllabic words and boring answers, to do with the work. This is a perfect opportunity for some character development with these new characters, and you're not using it. I get the feeling that you are finding this bit boring to write, and therefore I am finding it boring to read. Use these boring periods to develop characters, that is what they are there for - that is their use!

That meant those twelve ewes would be butchered before the rams were let loose among them. Taking the ewes out that had bad teeth or weak udders meant that the flock would be strengthened as a whole.

You're telling here, but only for a sentence or two, which is forgiveable. Then, however, we're hit with this:

The next ewe was recognized as one with a history of weak and infected feet that no amount of caring was able to quite cure. Brod’ewedh looked at me. I bit the tip of my tongue in indecision. She had already been kept in for several seasons, “just in case” but she still showed no signs of shaking the trouble off. Out of the seven who were checking this particular flock - me, Dai, Cadhran, Brod’ewedh and Odhran, Uthra’mol, Hebask’breä, who were further down the hillside holding the flock, we all had the same amount of shepherding experience, but I had the most authority.

There's a lot to say for this bit. Right, you talk about the ewe - fair enough. Then, however, you go off on a tangent, saying who the other characters are and how Fal has got the most authority, and then, in the next paragraph, you jerk back to the sheep again. It doesn't run smoothly, and slows down the pace considerably.

This, too, is a prime example of telling instead of showing. Why tell us that 'The next ewe was recognized as one with a history of weak and infected feet that no amount of caring was able to quite cure.'? Have one of the characters say it - "Oh, look, it's the dodgy one," though something not as crude, obviously, and with more detail. Have the way the characters act around Fal show that he's the most authoritative figure there, instead of simply telling us it's so. Give your characters something to do, at present they're standing in the background twiddling their thumbs.

In addition to this, you've given us a long list of names that are rather difficult to pronounce, even in our heads. Having so many such names in such quick succession jars the pace to a grinding halt, forcing us to slowly say each name in our heads. Perhaps introduce the characters and names individually throughout the chapter - it would be more interesting (to get to know each character) and wouldn't create such a sticky moment in the pacing as it is currently.

Finally, I'm not quite sure why all this drama is occurring because of one dodgy sheep? I mean, they've been callously sentencing the broken-toothed ones to death without a care in the world, yet when it comes to this one, which has, apparently, been some trouble for a while now with its infected feet, Fal has to bite his lip in indecision. Why? I could understand if they needed to reserve the sheep for food, and these dodgy ones they're just going to throw away, but that theory is batted down not much later on, as these will be eaten. As I can find no logical reason to find the killing of one more sheep so difficult, it looks to me to be a means of padding the chapter out. If, instead, you used these mundane jobs to develop character through actions and dialogue, you wouldn't need to pad it out with this over-analysis of something that doesn't appear to really matter.

“Mark her,” I said to Cadhran, and he did so, then released her. She ran to join her flock fellows, oblivious to the red X on her back that meant she was destined for the butcher’s knife.

“Would Athrachan approve?” Dai asked. “Shouldn’t you ask him?”

“I think I can decide for myself,” I retorted, bristling.

“Da, da lowr.” Dai raised his hands and fanned them in the air, as though trying to cool any hot temper on my part. “I was only thinking.”

“Alright then,” I said graciously. “Next.”

Ah, finally, some speech! And proper, characterised speech. The instant you have your characters talk, your whole style relaxes and becomes much more enjoyable to read, as opposed to the stiffness of the chapter up 'till now. No other big comments for this bit, apart from the fact that Fal seems to change his mood fairly rapidly, from 'bristling' to 'gracious', though that may be just part of his personality. Again, 'X' needs to be put in apostrophes.

We finally got through that flock, and sent them on their way. A few of the ewes had the Sense, so we could make it known to them the way we wanted them to go without too much help from the dogs. Sheep did not have very interesting minds, I reflected, watching them stream away down the slope and up the opposite hill. They were intelligent in their own way, but it was difficult trying to make them keep another’s idea in their heads for more than a few minutes.

There's some internal character development here, which is good. It's interesting, more so than reading about marking sheep, so no big problems here. I'm going to assume that 'the Sense' is part of the 'Seeing' in the first chapter - it's been a while since I read it, but I do believe that, if I were to read this without taking long intervals between each chapter, then I would be perfectly aware, or at least be able to give a good guestimate, as to what 'the Sense' is. So, yeah, no problems here.

Now, birds… I smiled and reached out with my mind to touch Codahüti’s. She was back at Carraig Éanä, but her thoughts came clearly to me. Sheep? Have you not finished with sheep yet?

Na, only with this flock.

Through our Sense-link, I felt the giant bird’s amused contempt. Pathetic woolly creatures. And yet you depend on them to live.

That’s stretching it a bit! I don’t need to depend on sheep. We keep them to support us. As much say that you depend on them, because you eat them.

When I can get away with it. Will I get a share in the twelve that will be killed?

If I can manage it.

Again, some nice dialogue here. It's fairly obvious that dialogue is a strength of yours, you should use it more often during the otherwise more boring parts of writing. I like Codahüti's character, she seems the right sort for a gigantic bird.

I let it go with 'the Sense', but, I do think you should clarify exactly what a 'Sense-link' is before this chapter (perhaps have a small chapter in between this and the first to get that and other things clearly into the reader's mind). As it is, you've just thrown that phrase in here, with the apparent assumption that the reader will know what it means. Otherwise, the chapter is picking up - I'm liking it better already, just with a bit of dialogue!

Sa da. I felt her content at the prospect. At nine feet long and with a wingspan twenty feet wide, Codahüti was more than able to kill and carry away a full grown sheep by herself, but the flocks were heavily guarded, and any attempt made on the sheep could result in fatal injuries or even death. She was happy to wait and have her meat given to her.

“Fal…”

“Mm.”

“Fal.”

“Yes!”

“Have you finished talking with Codahüti?”

“Yes, since you interrupted.”

Dai grinned. “Tell her that if we don’t get a move on, she won’t get any roast sheep at the slaughter feast.”

You tell a bit here - have the two talk about how she is more than able to carry sheep away, but the danger of doing so (character development opportunity!!!). Otherwise, you're getting back up to your previous standard.

Dai grinned. “Tell her that if we don’t get a move on, she won’t get any roast sheep at the slaughter feast.”

I grinned back and relayed the message. Codahüti said, Then get a move on! What are you waiting for?

“That bird,” I said to Dai, “is bossy.”

“She’s a perfect match for you,” Dai said.

“Are you suggesting…”

“No, no, of course not. Come on and do as she-who-holds-all-power-commands.”

Tell him I object strongly to that name.

He knows you do already.

Again, nothing bad here. When you actually give them something to talk about, you seem really confident in your characters, and they're very strong characters. Perhaps you need to build the same level of confidence in action scenes, where not as much talk is done? I'm not overly sure about that, as we haven't seen a proper action scene as of yet (we are only two chapters in, after all), but it should be interesting to see when the time comes. One little comment - shouldn't it be 'she-who-holds-all-power commands', as 'commands' is the verb, not part of the name?

That’s the whole point! Dai laughed, joining our mental conversation. Even though it was rather forward for a person to address another’s Sense-partner, Dai was an exception. I had known him for longer than I had been bonded with Codahüti, and she acknowledged that.

There are cases when telling as opposed to showing can be effective, and I think you achieve that here. Again, however, you refer to being 'bonded' with Codahüti, which should really be addressed earlier on, as we have no idea what this bonding is.

We went down the hill side, stepping over imbedded rocks and odd holes and hollows in the grass. The others were already climbing the next hill, and we joined them at the top. Beyond this hill, the ground levelled out and looked like a lumpy rug, with small half-hills and mounds rising out of the green-brown grass. More hills rose in the distance, ranging in colour from mossy green to a green so dark they looked black, with the farthest ones coloured a mottled brown and green, laced with purple and red heather, mist curling around their tops.

'Imbedded' should be 'embedded'. I like your use of 'lumpy rug' for description, it creates a pleasant image. Instead of 'half-hills' I would say 'hillocks', as it is a more accurate term. Also, 'green so dark they looked black' sounds rather clumsy and awkward - perhaps extend the 'moss green' metaphor to describe the hills as 'the colour of old mould', or something along those lines. Also, you say 'green' a lot - a bit too much, I think, it becomes very repetetive. Perhaps use a different name for green - I'm sure there's a thread on the site somewhere for that, so it could come in handy.

I don't see much point in quoting the next bit, as there's a lot of pretty much good stufff - very little to comment on. I would, however, question the necessity of describing Fal stepping over a rock - it's unimportant, and doesn't further the pace in any way. Also, 'I declared' needs, I think, to be un-italicised.

We could see the sheep now, busily grazing, spread out over the land. Some of them looked up uneasily as we approached, and I sent out a reassuring message to them, telling them that we meant no harm. Not fully convinced, a few of them began to drift away.

I’ll tell you when we break at noon, I said to Dai. For now, send Guenhwyvar after those stragglers.

Sa. Dai whistled, and Guenhwyvar streaked to obey him. The others had already sent their dogs to round the sheep up, and within a short time, they were gathered into a tight knot, closely guarded by Bran and Keelta, Odhran and Hebask’breä’s hounds. Guenhwyvar brought up the first ewe, and the sorting began all over again.

All good here, though I don't think you need to mention the names of the dogs. It sounds like you're just putting in names for the sake of it, and it doesn't serve any importance to anything. Just say something like '...guarded by the many hounds.'

Now, this second half is the bit I really liked - you'd settled back into writing about what interested you, or what you were comfortable with, and it shows.

“Now will you tell me?” Dai asked.

I stretched out my legs in front of me, feeling my muscles ache with strain. We were sitting on an outcrop of rock near enough to Carraig Éanä to be able to see the wall of the hamlet where we lived. The hamlet took its name from the huge, rugged rock it was built near, and we could see it; a dark mass against the sky with harsh edges and jagged points.

Good, except that you say 'we could see the hamlet' twice.

“Oh, you know,” I said, biting into an oat cake, and waving it around in the air to add emphasis to my words. “Everyone - the old men and the captains and people - are shaking their heads and murmuring about trouble over the seas.”

'...to add emphasis to my words' sounds a little odd. Perhaps just 'waving it around to emphasise my words' runs a little smoother.

There's not really much to comment on in the rest of this. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the entire history/geography lesson - it's encouraging to see you have such knowledge of your world, and you managed to give a lot of information without the reader being overloaded with it. You sue the 'showing through speech' technique - of which, I'm a big fan! Yes, very good.

Your dialogue, though generally very strong, does have weaknesses - for instance, you tend to be use random overly formal words when they sound awkward - 'pondered' being an example. 'Thought' works much better in that particular instance. Also, I'd like to draw attention to this one metaphor:

“I’m merely shedding a little light in order to break through the clouds of ignorance in which you seem to revel in seeing your life through.”

It sounds awkwardly phrased. I think 'in seeing your life through' is what brings it down. "I'm merely shedding a little light in order to break through the clouds of ignorance which you revel in" would work better, I think.


Overall, this is a good chapter. I think you seem to enjoy the more poetic style of your first chapter - your style suited that type of prose, whereas you attempted to carry on with the same style initially with this chapter (telling was both effective and necessary there, where it only drags down the pace here). I get the impression that, when you reach a boring subject to write about, you try to rush it as much as possible in order to get to the interesting parts, where your writing then picks up.Instead, use these boring parts for character development - through dialogue is the best way of doing so, I think (though the odd character action doesn't go amiss).

So, yeah. I'm glad I've finally finished this, and my internet has held fairly steady throughout writing. I hope this helped you to some degree, and I look forward to the next chapter!

-Kyle