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The Fallen King: Chapter Nine, pt 3

by MaybeAndrew

 Part two of chapter nine: https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=15...

The Fallen King

Liam is learning to listen to the Old Tongue, an ancient language of extreme power... by listening to a waterfall. His Grandpa is trying to help, but it is not going well so far.


“Why won’t you talk to me!” Liam growled under his breath. It had been eight hours, and nothing had changed. He hadn’t heard anything near what Grandpa had said to the flower.

He opened his eyes and glared at the waterfall. He shut them tight and tried to squeeze the words out of the tumbling, roaring, and burbling.



Only a couple minutes later and Grandpa was already back to retrieve him.

“Any luck?”

Liam burst up in a quick furry of anger. “Nothing. It’s refusing to talk to me!” Liam took a stone and threw it at the water. It tumbled and disappeared into the white foam. He stared at it with malice. It just flowed, unaffected by his rage. “Say something!” He said, lifting his arm to throw another stone, but Grandpa caught his forearm with the cane.

“Do you think yelling at it is going to help?” He asked pointedly.

Liam dropped the stone and looked down, embarrassed. “No.”

“Good, I thought you were smarter than that.” Grandpa sighed and sat down, gesturing for Liam to sit next to him. Liam obliged.

“You should be listening, not commanding. There will come a point when strength of personality and command become important, but that is not yet. You are not speaking to it. First, it must speak to you. You can only open yourself up for its voice. You cannot drag it in,” Grandpa said. “Take a deep breath, Liam. It is talking to you. It is saying things. You’re just not listening.” Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Grandpa held up a hand. “Take a deep breath, Liam. Anger won’t help - at yourself, me, or the waterfall. You may think you’re listening to it, but you’re not. You’re not listening to it. You’re trying to listen past it. Trying to find something that’s not there. Stop. Take what it gives you. If all that it gives you is that burbling and roaring, take that. Notice the individual drop traveling down the waterfall, notice each sound it makes, notice the whole, notice the patterns of sounds that may shift from moment to moment. Clear your mind of your own expectations or demands. Let the water speak into it.”


Liam took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I still don’t hear anything,” He said, frustrated, “Maybe I’m just not made for this.”

“No, and no. You’re hearing something, just not what you want to hear. Stop telling your mind what it’s looking for. Just take it. You hear the water. Listen to the water. Just listen to it, notice it, pay attention to it. Do not demand anything of it. Do not drown out the sounds with your imaginations, assumptions, or expectations. Actually, pay attention. It will give you what it has.”

Liam tried again, readjusting his position. "I just keep getting distracted. It's hard not to notice myself instead of the waterfall."

"Yes, paying attention is hard, harder than most people give it credit for. Show me a conversation, and I'll show you two people talking at each other, each only trying to think of what they should say next. Show me someone reading, and I'll show you someone letting each word send them into a cascade of thoughts. Focusing is difficult. Paying attention is difficult, especially when the thing you're paying attention to is not yourself. You'll get better at it, but don't let yourself get distracted by how bad or good you are at it. Just listen."

Liam nodded, still frustrated, but the deep breaths had helped.

The next day was better. He didn’t hear what he wanted, but he didn’t get as angry either. He was getting better at making the normal sound of the waterfall what he wanted.

It wasn’t boring either. When he listened to the sound of the water long enough, he realized it wasn’t all the same, the sounds much more complex than he thought. It was not purely chaotic, but nor was it predictable and repetitive. When he took the time to notice it, he realized there was a lot more to notice than he first thought.

Some light rain sprinkled down at midday, which changed the pitch of the sound, and added the drops on the trees to the sounds of the forest. He didn’t mind the rain, though. It was a nice sound.

Liam had to admit even if it didn’t work yet, Grandpa’s method was much less frustrating.


Over the next couple of days, the scene that had played out on the flower Grandpa had spoken took place at its natural rate. Tiny blades of green pushed their way up through the mud and leaves, becoming grass or the beginnings of larger plants. Green buds appeared on some trees above, along with the little white flower buds on others.

The days were starting to get warm enough that he could take off his cloak near midday and feel the air on his arms.

He wasn’t nearly as frustrated at it all as before. Being able to listen, even if he didn’t hear a voice, was nice. The sounds were changing. There were more birds now, the flowers made a sound as they rustled, the tree branches creaked less, and there seemed to be a bit more water in the falls.

And then suddenly, he heard it. A little past noon on the fifth day, when the sun was shining through the branches with their little sparkles of green buds, he heard a voice.

A muttering.

As he heard it, he frantically pawed at it for more. Liam trying to pull the sound in. But it slipped away like water between his fingers.

“Schwarzbär,” He muttered, and then blushed. Maria would not have approved. He looked around, despite himself. Naming the bear in King’s Speech - a common swear - is said to summon the animal. But of course, it wasn’t true. Sailors did it all the time.

They were at sea when they did it.

He shook the thought off and thought back on the muttering. It had gotten away from him. He’d been too frantic to get it. He had demanded it to come in and thereby not made room for it. He should have just let it fill him. He chastised himself and spent the rest of the day trying just that but was too excited and distracted by how close he’d gotten to do well.


The next day he heard it again. He almost rushed back. Almost. He restrained himself and opened his mind up instead.

He listened, not pulled. Clearing himself of anything but attention to it, making space for whatever would come in.

Suddenly, like a breaking dam, countless other sounds rushed in to fill the empty space. The musical chattering of the birds, the rough stone against his bottom, and the sweet, lively smell of the flowers. He tried to pinpoint the voice, but it had been lost in the flood of the others.

He eased back to normal. Disappointed. How was he supposed to find the voice if everything else was going to be so loud? It was like he was trying to catch only one snowflake in a bucket during a blizzard. He’d never realized how much there was to be noticed. How at every moment, there was something pressing in on him, asking to be listened to. He didn’t have to pull the sounds out, merely give them room.

But how could he give just one voice room?

The others were all so loud, almost seeming frantic to be heard, but the voice felt coy. It was an easily spooked deer.


One week after starting, he was truly beginning to enjoy listening. Yes, the voice was still playing hide and seek, popping out for a moment before hiding back behind everything else again. It was a mutter in a thunderstorm, too quiet to hear, like trying to hear one singer in a choir.

But it was quite a warm day, the warmest it had been all year, so he didn't mind sitting out too much. It was still winter, the breeze cold enough to make his bear arms prickle and shiver, but the sun felt warm on his back, and the plants all seemed to be stretching to catch some of that warmth.

He was beginning to understand why Arwen always liked sitting out on the cliffs. To his young eyes, she had been doing nothing, but now he realized she'd been listening. Listening wasn't easy, but it was rewarding.

Maybe that is why Arwen had been so wonderful to talk to. She had been listening. Like nobody else, when you spoke, she was there to hear you, nothing more or nothing less. Even her words were acts of listening. Searching for the things you hadn’t said yet.

Through that listening, she had earned the right of his full focus. So when she told her stories, he listened to her words. His mind would spin and swirl in them, not merely noticing the words but truly being carried along on the stories peaks and valleys, like a boat at sea -

There it was again, the voice. Cutting through him and entering his core of actual being, not a surface-level sense, but something deep and real.

He focused on it. He opened himself to it, but it was too quiet. It slipped away, gone again.

Liam opened his eyes and looked at the waterfall. The voice was so close. He almost felt like it was still there, just hiding out of reach.

The water was cascading down the rocks, sending mist to make the air sparkle. With the hills on either side and the trees above, it was like the waterfall had a little world of its own.

In this world, the sun streamed through branches that glistened with the tiny emeralds of coming buds. The ground was littered with little blue flowers and other brave blades of plants, the first pioneers of that spring. Butterflies lazily fluttered from flower to flower. Birds swooped among the branches, singing and chattering to each other as they flew in and out of the light that sparkled off the water. They were diving at the fluttering butterflies before catching the wind up into the trees.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the reason he couldn’t hear the waterfall’s voice was because he wasn’t lost in it. He wasn’t floating in it as he had in Arwen’s stories. When Grandpa had spoken the true tongue, he had heard it, seen it, smelt it, tasted it, and felt it.

Maybe he needed to feel the waterfall.

Liam stood up, still looking up at the water, but now a determination had entered him. He felt the same burning energy in his chest when he looked out at the sea and wanted to see that flashing light.

Liam took off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, throwing both aside. He walked out of the circle of stones, feeling the rock and moss beneath his feet. Stepping off the rocks and into the shallow edge of the river, Liam shivered. He had always known the rivers here flowed from the snow-capped mountains, but now he felt it. The rock underwater was smooth from algae, and his feet slid against it as he walked deeper. Liam winced as the water touched his groin. It really was cold.

Now he was close enough to the waterfall that he had to bend his head backward to see its top. He was beneath it, like a subject at the feet of his king. It sounded different this close, deeper. He could feel its roaring vibrating in the stone beneath his feet and the water around him. He could smell from the mist that condensed on his face and made him blink.

Liam smiled, not close enough, though.

In one leap, he dove forward, submerging himself entirely in the water. The cold was like a sucker punch and almost made him gasp reflexively. But he controlled himself, not giving in to his body's panic, and kicked forward, using what he had learned in the sea.

With every kick, swimming got more difficult, the water’s immense weight pushing back on him. It took longer than he expected. He hadn’t really taken into account that for every two kicks he went forward, he’d go back one.

His lungs began to burn from holding his breath, but he wasn’t about to break to the surface. He’d just be sent back to where he started if he did that.

There were moments when he wondered if he was moving at all. He almost turned back for air, but the intense thundering was getting louder. He was moving, if slowly. He knew he shouldn’t turn back.

Or maybe he should, but he knew he wouldn’t.

The thundering was now terribly loud, and it felt like he was wrestling the river itself. Battling it to let him pass. It was stronger than him, but he was faster.

He summoned that burning fire of determination and pushed it into his limbs. With one last great kick, he was through. The weight that had been pushing him back was gone. He had passed under the waterfall.

Reaching forward, Liam felt a rock beneath his hand and grabbed onto it. He kicked, pulled, and broke through the surface, awkwardly clinging to the rock.

It felt like the water had become a near-solid as it pushed down on his back, roaring and splashing around him. He realized the weight pushing at him was not gone but all around him. Luckily, he had pulled himself behind the full brunt of the falls, so it was manageable. Gasping in breaths of air that was almost half mist, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position. The water crashed over him as he spluttered and turned, getting his back against the stone wall.

The weight hurt but also felt cleansing and strengthening, like all the satisfaction and pain of a day’s labor tumbled into moments. The cold played over his entire body, the pure sensory power of it keeping him feeling fresh, despite the difficulty.

Shakily, he grabbed the stone wall behind him and tried to stand. He let the water tumble around him, holding onto the stones for support. It felt like his body had multiplied in weight, but as he poured all of his strength into the attempt, he felt himself begin to rise.

He was standing, truly standing. He let out a gasping laugh that filled his mouth with splashing water. No longer cowering beneath it, he was standing!

The water was in everything: his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.

He opened his mind up like Grandpa had taught him, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, it was there. The roaring of the water filled his ears, the smell of it in his nose, and the taste of it his mouth. From the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head, he felt it crashing around him.

In it all was the voice. He had no idea how he hadn’t heard it before. It was not hidden in the sounds of the water. It was the water. Its words were spoken in everything from the sounds of the dripping drops to the vibrations of the roaring river. It was in the smell of the mist, in the taste of the cold, in the touch of its movements.

The voice was quiet, like the whispering of a child or the babbling brook, but also loud, like the roar of a god or the crashing of water against stone. It was angry, shaking the very earth, and gentle, slipping over the stone.

It was intensely magnificent. Like when Grandpa had spoken, the voice was more than just one thing. It communicated to more than just one sense, to more than even just the senses. It was reality itself, and existed on every level of experience.It was intensely magnificent. Like when Grandpa had spoken, the voice was more than just one thing. It communicated to more than just one sense, to more than even just the senses. It was reality itself, and existed on every level of experience.

It was speaking to the stone beneath his feet. Well, speaking is too weak - too polite - a word. It was battling and debating as it crashed and cracked.

But at the same time, it was harmonizing and reflecting with the stone. Both were made more powerful and beautiful by the struggle.

Liam could faintly hear that the stone spoke back as well. In a different voice, lower and slower. As the water crashed against them, they pushed back as well.

His strength nearly completely spent, Liam sprang forward, crashing back into the water. Nearly drowning in excitement (and water,) he stumbled and swam away from the waterfall, an easier task than swimming towards it. He reached the far shore and pulled himself onto the stones.

Gasped and spluttering, he crawled ashore, dragging himself into the middle of the circle of stones.

He was so exhausted he could barely lift himself out of the water. He felt like he had been tumbled through a grinding wheel. But at the same time, He felt awakened, and his mind was clear. It was like he had been sick, with his ears clogged up and mind slow, and now, he was healed. His skin felt like it was glowing. The air outside the water was warm compared to the river.

He turned himself onto his back and stared up at the sky, trying to catch his breath. The stone was warm from the sunlight and felt nice against his bareback.

Liam could still hear it, even then. Now that he’d been able to pick it out, he wondered if he ever wouldn’t hear it again. He had always heard it, of course. He had just never realized it. It had always been there, in the crashing and burbling, the muttering and yelling, the debating and harmonizing, but now, he could recognize it.

Around its edges, he could notice other things as well, the trees as they drank from its water, the distant mountains as they groaned from its passing, even the birds as they swooped in its mist. It was all connected. They were all a part of the great symphony, the great conversation.

They, too, spoke, he couldn’t hear them nearly as well, but now he knew they did. He might not be able to understand the words of the waterfall, but he felt them. A man can understand the emotion of an opera sung in a language he didn’t speak.

He knew in time, he might be able to make out those words and eventually speak them.

Liam smiled as he stared up at the sky. Maybe this apprenticeship would be fun. 



1. Does it feel like Liam earned the ability to listen?

2. What do you think of the Old Tongue?

3. What does this chapter make you think about Liam?

Is this a review?



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65 Reviews

Points: 31
Reviews: 65

Sun Feb 05, 2023 12:26 pm
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VengefulReaper wrote a review...

Hey Andrew! Just here to leave a quick review for you.

Some initial thoughts here... I really like Liam in this chapter. In fact, having all of chapter nine be solely about him so far was a great choice because it gave the world time to breathe. I think I'm starting to understand the concept of the Old Tongue. It's always speaking... You're just not listening to it.

I thought your descriptions of sounds were a standout in this chapter. It can be really hard to create an image or atmosphere only with the sense of sound since we rely on sight so much but I think you really nailed the nature of the Old Tongue (pun not intended). Now onto your questions:

1. Does it feel like Liam earned the ability to listen?

It does. I think the passing of time helped with that. Even though there were several short time jumps in this chapter, it flowed together well since you related it to flowers blooming over time, etc. I also enjoy the fact that he didn't get it right the first time he heard the voice. It slipped away from him because he commanded it and this has a really good payoff at the end when he is finally able to listen to the waterfall.

2. What do you think of the Old Tongue?

It does seem very magical/mystical to me. I think that's partly because of the last chapter when Grandpa used the Old Tongue but this added a little more depth to it that I understand. I like the idea of 'taking what you get' whereas the instinctive approach would be to 'take what you're looking for and filter out the rest.' I think it's a whole lot more difficult to do that since we are so used to tuning out 'noise'.


Yes, paying attention is hard, harder than most people give it credit for. Show me a conversation, and I'll show you two people talking at each other, each only trying to think of what they should say next. Show me someone reading, and I'll show you someone letting each word send them into a cascade of thoughts.

I feel attacked by such a true statement that totally doesn't apply to me /s

Also, the image of a boat of angry sailors yelling "Schwarzbär" repeatedly at the heavens in the middle of a raging ocean expecting a bear to fall out of the sky got a chuckle out of me (pretty hard to do when I'm reading something).

3. What does this chapter make you think about Liam?

Overall, Liam is slowly becoming my favorite character not just in your novel but on this site (that I've read obv). He's very real and I really love watching him accomplish what he did this chapter (Like a proud big bro, idk). His transition from the Liam whose mind had drifted all the time during his listening session to the Liam that dived into the waterfall just to listen has been really organic. I also like how much he appreciates his listening sessions even if he doesn't hear much as opposed to him being frustrated and distracted earlier.

He reminds me a lot of 'the hero's journey'

Overall, chapter nine might just be my new favorite chapter. Looking forward to reading more soon.

As always, take what you find useful and discard the rest. Keep safe and keep writing!

The reaper sends his regards.

MaybeAndrew says...

Thank you so much for the review! I have no idea how it slipped by. It is genuinely so kind, and OHMYGOSH its been a bit since I've reviewed your story, but I'm excited to get back to it!

VengefulReaper says...

Good to have you back, mate! It%u2019s a pleasure reading your novel on this site and I%u2019m glad I%u2019ll be getting more of it!

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545 Reviews

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Reviews: 545

Wed Sep 28, 2022 2:37 pm
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Liminality wrote a review...

Hi again Andrew!

First Impressions
I thought this chapter showed a good moment of character growth for Liam. It feels like he’s learning how to be more patient and understanding more about the Old Tongue. At the same time, I like that he is shown taking the initiative and finding his own way to understand it, namely by diving into the waterfall – I definitely hadn’t seen that coming, but it made a lot of sense, and it’s nice to see him go beyond his grandfather’s instructions.

More on Liam’s character
The main impression I get from Liam in this chapter is that he’s definitely a character in a coming-of-age story? His character traits often seem to stem from being ‘youthful’ so to speak, especially in contrast to his grandfather. I notice this in smaller moments as well like when he swears but then gets embarrassed about it. I like how it is portrayed as a challenge or stepping stone for him to go through before he can get to the place he wants. I do wonder if there are other chapters I haven’t read yet that showcase what makes Liam different from his peers, for example.
As a side note, I thought the beginning of this part was a little abrupt since in the very last line of part 2 Liam was declaring that he’d be willing to wait a long time. Then this part opens with him being all impatient again, so I thought that was a bit surprising unless it was intended as a comedic scene.

Listening & Pacing
I definitely thought how he learnt listening was slow and effortful enough to feel like he earned it! I like that it occurs over quite a number of days, and in the text it *feels* like a number of days have passed. For instance, the descriptions of the setting are repeated with slight alterations, like the mention of plants starting to grow, to show that time is going by.

Maybe that is why Arwen had been so wonderful to talk to. She had been listening. Like nobody else, when you spoke, she was there to hear you, nothing more or nothing less. Even her words were acts of listening. Searching for the things you hadn’t said yet.

I like this bit in particular. I thought it illustrated the idea behind listening, and it ties this part to the beginning of the story really nicely by showing it reflected in Arwen. Having Liam reflect on details and memories like this also makes the pacing feel appropriately slow for this part where he’s trying to acquire this skill.

The Old Tongue
What the descriptions of the Old Tongue get across to me are that it’s definitely something magical. It feels like it’s always described in terms of contradictory elements, like “quiet . . . but also loud” and “battling and debating” but also “harmonizing”. It’s hard for me to think of something I’ve experience before in real life as a reference to imagine what this might sound like, so I find myself not really *with* Liam as he’s experiencing this. At the same time, I do get the sense of how supernatural it is, and the scene surrounding it, as in the waterfall, appears much more vivid in my imagination.
Something I like about the Old Tongue is the reveal in this chapter that Liam has *always* heard it. That kind of explains the magical atmosphere of the world, which syncs up with the idea that the Old Tongue basically is reality, in a way. At least, that’s what I’ve got from my understanding.

This was an exciting chapter to read. I thought it matched the character’s tangible skill growth well with character growth in terms of maturity. In general, it leaves a feeling of wonder that I associate with a great fantasy novel :D

Hope some of this helps, and feel free to ask for more feedback!

MaybeAndrew says...

Thank you so much for the review, Lim! You thinking the Old Tongue felt magical genuinely had me smiling from ear to ear!
The switch between him being willing to wait forever and being impatient is meant to be comic, but maybe I didn't communicate that very well XD.
Once again, thanks so much for you're review!

Liminality says...

The Old Tongue is an interesting concept and I love how you've explored it based on the chapters I've read so far! And ah, I see - I'd been guessing that was the intention though I suppose it might have had more of an effect for me if it hadn't been distributed over two parts (lit works), though that could just be a personal thing.

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Points: 33
Reviews: 3

Sun Jul 24, 2022 9:36 pm
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VagueFairee wrote a review...

This is an excellent series. I'm enjoying your writing style, but I feel like I should point out that bare back is two words, not one. The one word implies a sexual act.
I do enjoy the descriptions of the voice and how it doesn't speak, it crashes and roars, this was a good visual, a good indicator that it's a powerful, ancient thing. Like how nature actually is, when you think about it. Great work, looking forward to seeing more!

MaybeAndrew says...

Thank you so much for you're review Vague Fairiee!

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1232 Reviews

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Reviews: 1232

Sun Jul 24, 2022 8:21 am
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MailicedeNamedy says...

Quick note: This should be Part 3 :D

Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend.
— Corey Ford