This is the first chapter of the book that i have been writing. I think the series needs a new name, so if you have any ideas... oh, also, if you want a copy of the chapter with notes explaining some of the grammar, language and background, i'll see what i can do.
Chapter 1
Princess Arwen rushed through the castle, her long, blonde hair trailing behind her. Here and there, servants passed through the long stone corridors, eager to get on with work. Today was Arwen’s fourteenth birthday. She was expected to be everywhere at once. Her father wanted to talk to her about the party, she was supposed to be in her room being measured for a dress and she wanted to go catch more butterflies for her garden. Her entire day was in complete chaos.
King Rinion, Arwen’s father, was waiting patiently to see Arwen. He had sent is regent, Arandur, to go find her. As of yet, however, he had not returned and Rinion was starting to become concerned. “Maybe I shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on her,” he said to himself as he paced his study. “Perhaps I should go help find her.”
Arwen went to the stable. Roherdiron was there, mucking out the stalls. “Saddle Aranel, Roherdiron,” Arwen said. “I need to leave.”
“Where are you going, Arwen Tarien?” Roherdiron asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m not staying here. Not today.”
Roherdiron shrugged and went to gather Aranel’s tack.
When Aranel had been saddled, Arwen mounted gracefully and rode off. As she rode through the courtyard, Aranel’s hooves clacked loudly. They rode through the gate and onto the dirt road leading away from the castle. As she reached the edge of the forest, she looked behind her to see if anyone was following. It was clear that there wasn’t, she checked again, nonetheless. A cloud of dust could be seen closer to the castle, but it didn’t bother her. She had travelled in the forest often enough to know how to lose them if need be. The place was dark and thick with foliage. The light that filtered through the dense canopy coloured everything a dark forest green. All around, Arwen heard birds stirring in the trees and, here and there, a small rabbit or fox could be seen looking for food. She travelled for what felt like hours, until she ran into a young elf-boy on a white horse, travelling in the opposite direction.
The boy had been riding for some time. He wore mostly green and brown, the colours of the elves of Drakaar. As Arwen looked at him, she noted that he had a strange hairstyle. His mop of hair was jet black, but his fringe was blonde. On the boy’s head sat a simple silver crown, set with an emerald. It took her a while, but Arwen recognised the boy. The lord of each fief wore a headband set with the gemstone of the fief. Rinion had a sapphire on his crown. Emerald was the gemstone of the Drakaar fief, so this made the boy, on the horse in front of Arwen, the lord of the Drakaar fief. Arwen had seen him at several royal functions, but had never actually talked to him and didn’t know his name.
“Arwen Tarien,” the boy said, bowing respectfully. “Nîn aelin, maer ier lle tien-eht tehn?”
“You needn’t flatter me with the old tongue, my lord,” Arwen replied. “This is not a formal setting and I am not in the mood for it.”
The boy dismounted and offered to help Arwen off her horse. She accepted and they sat on a nearby rock. “So tell me, princess,” the boy said. “You seem on edge. Would that be because of your birthday?”
Arwen looked down at her feet. “You’re stressed,” the boy continued. “Everyone wants you to be everywhere at once. Your father wants your help to organise your party, but you want to tend to your garden and the tailor needs to measure you for a dress.”
Arwen was at a loss for words. This boy knew exactly what had happened and how she felt. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Beriadan Heru, son of Vehiron. I am lord of Drakaar since my father died, but he was good friends with the king. I have no idea how my skills and abilities came to be, but I can read people’s emotions, as if what was happening to them was happening to me.”
This boy was intriguing. He had the respect, manner and dignity of a prince, yet he seemed to communicate like a peasant. And, on top of that, he seemed to know Arwen better than she knew herself. The boy whispered a few inaudible words to a small butterfly and it landed on his hand. “Get me one of your jars,” he said.
Arwen did so and Beriadan placed the creature inside, whispering inaudibly to it as he did so. The butterfly was an explosion of dark and light blue. The patterns gave it an icy look, but the deep blue made it look sapphire. “Malina Khelek,” Beriadan said, handing the jar to Arwen. “Blue Glacier. One of five you are missing from your collection. Consider it the first half of my birthday present for you.”
Arwen blushed and Beriadan smiled. It was a warm smile that Arwen had never seen before. Maybe it was because she had never met many lords or nobles this young. Beriadan looked about fifteen, only a year older than herself and only just into manhood. “Come,” said Beriadan. “We’ll ride back to the castle together.”
Arwen mounted her horse and the two rode back toward the castle. On the way, they talked together about things that Arwen would never have expected. They spoke of Arwen’s party and of Beriadan’s journey. They laughed and joked with each other as if they were close friends, though they had only just met.
When they reached the castle, Arwen had Roherdiron stable the horses and the two went inside. They continued to talk as they wandered the corridors of the castle. “Would you come with me into my chambers and let me hear some of your music?” Arwen asked eventually.
Beriadan agreed and they went into Arwen’s room. Arwen sat down on the lounge, while Beriadan sat in an armchair and removed his flute from its case. The flute was a beautiful instrument. It was Y-shaped, made of rare red oak and adorned with delicate silver patterns that spiralled up, along the instrument.
As Beriadan began to play the instrument, the physical beauty was surpassed by the quality and power of the music it produced. Flutes were not magical objects, nor were they played using it, but the music from this instrument contained magic that could halt a war. In the gradients of high and low, Arwen could hear a story being played out. A story of dragons and of war, of lost love and new life, of adventures and betrayal. And, as she sat and listened, entranced by the story, she did not notice when Arandur came into the room.
) and it kinda bugged me, so you need a new name for Arwen I think. But its your choice.