Nimué - Chapter One

HOW ON EARTH HAVE I NOT REVIEWED THIS YET????

I remember reading a bit of chapter 1, because you had it on a pad, but I've totally forgotten a lot of it already cx SO THIS WILL BE SUPER FUN and it's going to be cool to read a non-political piece by the wonderful Kendall c:

"Well done, Nimué," the old man said as he stared down at her. "A perfect shot."

The young Elf dipped her head. "Thank you, Master Caecilius."

"Your parents will be pleased, Lady Neridan."

Nimué stared at the stump he had been sitting at for hour after hour as she had trained in near-complete silence and longed to rest her weary joints. His black hair was streaked with gray and white, like salt and pepper.

Hues of red, orange, green, yellow, and brown littered the ground and filled the canopy above their heads. They were following an ancient cobblestone path that had been built centuries ago. It wounded throughout the forest like a river and stretched up towards the mountains beyond the tree line.

"That doesn't necessarily mean that there was no wisdom within her words."

She knew what they were like, and just like her parents and the other members of her Clan, she wished them dead

"Goodbye, Master," she answered, dipping her head.

Her parents, Nenya and Arterius, were the High Lord and Lady of the Clan Neridan. Her older brother, Agandaur, would succeed them one day.

"Yes, ma'am," Nimué replied. "I'll be there soon, ma'am."

"See that you are."

Hey Vil! I'm finally getting around to reviewing this, sorry it took so long <3

I'll just go through and note points as I read.

1.

The arrow soared through the air, thwishing past the Elf's fair face as she released it. The bow string twanged, and the arrow hit the center of her wooden target with a thump. She lowered her bow and turned to her left, keeping a straight and solid posture as she looked up to her teacher.

"Well done, Nimué," the old man said as he stared down at her. "A perfect shot."

The young Elf dipped her head. "Thank you, Master Caecilius."

"Shall we return to Elarion?" she asked, the redness of her cheeks fading about as she offered him a small, hopeful smile.

"We have an hour ere night falls over the Plain and the Clan Iarpeiros leave their nest in the Valley. We should make haste."

She turned towards the dark-skinned old man and silently started to follow him towards the forest.

They were following an ancient cobblestone path that had been built centuries ago. It wounded throughout the forest like a river and stretched up towards the mountains beyond the tree line. The Road, as their people called it, was supposedly older than all living things, barring the gods themselves.

but the other dozens of Clans were less evil and merely wanted to keep their sovereignty.

Her mother's dead, toneless voice startled Nimué, making her jump and turn around. "Yes, ma'am?" she answered after taking a deep breath.

Nenya Neridan was a tall, pale she-elf with black hair and dark, gaunt brown eyes like dead leaves. She was garbed in dark gray robes and wore no jewelry. Though no one would admit it, many saw Nenya as a bland, tasteless woman that was better off reading scrolls in a library than making some of the day-to-day decisions of Elarion.

A promising start!

To start off, the worldbuilding in the beginning helps draw the reader in. In our collective opinion, worldbuilding and the culture of written peoples is one of the most interesting things to read about. However, one part seems a little forced; "But Avrailonis--"

"The goddess of hunting and travelers.." it seems odd that two people who obviously know their own religion quite well would discuss it in such a way, but, perhaps this has something to do with the manner in which they worship? Perhaps a disgraced deity is not to be called by name but rather by ooccupation?

The biggest thing we feel we should point out is extraordinarily nitpicky. As Nimue is shooting, it is stated that her quiver is on her hip. Here's where the nitpick comes in. A quiver is traditionally slung across one's back in a manner similar to a two-handed sword or battleaxe. However, less traditionally, it is slung around the waist, with the body of the quiver resting across one's backside and with the point coming to an end somewhere around the back of the knee. It's not a necessary detail to include this specification, but it deters annoying people like us from calling it out. Of course, we could just be bad at reading and the matter is what is meant as the nontraditional way of carry does put the mouth of the quiver behind one's hip.

The final thing we should like to address is the remarks about elves wearing chainmail and leaving heavy boot prints. Yes, this is another nitpick. Elves are oft thought of as creatures of air and archery (this is born out by Nimue's early activities) and it seems strange that they would wear armor heavier than leather, or that they would leave deep boot prints in the ground. Once again, we could still be wrong. Perhaps these marks are left by human, or even dwarven merchants (assuming either of those exist). Perhaps they were left by an exceptionally heavyset elf. We don't really know, we just like to nitpick.

All in all, this story has tremendous capacity for and interesting storyline as well as characters. We wish you luck in its conception.

Sláinte,

The Cidrian Writer's Guild

P.S. THe blank is there because we stupidly posted this as a comment rather than areview. We apologize profusely. We orcs are bad at Internet.

Arrow here with another review!

Not a bad start for a story, although it could use some improvements.

For starters--

The arrow soared through the air, thwishing past the Elf's fair face as she released it. The bow string twanged, and the arrow hit the center of her wooden target with a thump.

While I do like this for a starting paragraph, it seems a bit off to me. Try writing it so the first thing a reader would imagine is the bowstring being released, and then the arrow flying.

Moving on, this paragraph could use some tweaking:

The feeble, dark-skinned old man stood up, groaning as he hobbled forward. Nimué stared at the stump he had been sitting at for hour after hour as she had trained in near-complete silence and longed to rest her weary joints. His black hair was streaked with gray and white, like salt and pepper.

It's a bit choppy and unorganized. You go from talking about the stump to fatigue, to the man's appearance. The last line is also kind of...incomplete and/or unnecessary?

There's a lot that could be fixed and smoothed out here, but that doesn't make the story any less interesting. I'd really love to see the next chapter.

With pawfuls of love,
xArrows

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! It's somebody who can't come up with a creative opening.

First Impression: Hmm...well this sound pretty interesting, looks like we're dealing with a pretty detailed world as always, a little bland for a start because I feel like we literally only learn that she does archery, she has some thoughts, nothing really seems to happen nor is there something to hook us in so...umm...might need a bit more spice this one.

Anyway let's get right to it,

The arrow soared through the air, thwishing past the Elf's fair face as she released it. The bow string twanged, and the arrow hit the center of her wooden target with a thump. She lowered her bow and turned to her left, keeping a straight and solid posture as she looked up to her teacher.

"Well done, Nimué," the old man said as he stared down at her. "A perfect shot."

The young Elf dipped her head. "Thank you, Master Caecilius."

"Your parents will be pleased, Lady Neridan." The feeble old man stood up, groaning as he hobbled forward. Nimué stared at the stump he had been sitting at for hour after hour as she had trained in near-complete silence and longed to rest her weary joints.

"Shall we return to Elarion?" she asked, the redness of her cheeks fading about as she offered him a small, hopeful smile.

Nimué nodded and retrieved her arrow with a flick of her wrist. It appeared in her hand instantly, and she sheathed it in her quiver at her hip. She turned towards the dark-skinned old man and silently started to follow him towards the forest.

Nimué looked deeper into the forest on either side of the path. "I'd love to go out there one day, Master."

"No you don't," Caecilius replied sternly, as he always would. "I don't believe that I should have to explain to you yet again why we don't leave the Road."

"Because it's about the principle of leaving nature untouched and disturbing the environment as little as possible so as to please the gods, and blah, blah, blah. I attend temple, Master. I've heard all of this and more. But Avrailonis--"

Caecilius sighed and shook his head. "It matters not, my Lady. What's done is done, and Avrailonis is no more. Her teachings matter not in these modern days where traveling is not the way of the people and eternal war is the law of the land."

What law? Nimué nearly replied. It was true that the Clans rarely did anything other than bicker and fight anymore... especially the Neridans-- her family-- and the Iarpeiroses, who lived in the Valley over the mountains. She knew what they were like, and just like her parents and the other members of her Clan, she wished them dead-- but the other dozens of Clans were less evil and merely wanted to keep their sovereignty. All had their own sets of laws that they followed, and all of the fighting was caused by not having universal laws that were followed.

The stone walls of Elarion came into view as they continued along the Road. A set of solid oak doors were inset on the northern side with a quartet of guards stationed to either side. They wore leather guards over their chain mail, and each had a scarlet hood and cloak trimmed with gold. Heavy foot prints were in the drying mud from the morning's rain. One of the soldiers took a horn off his belt and blew a loud, clear note that faded out quickly. The gates slowly creaked open, and Caecilius led Nimué inside of the city.

Elarion had three levels. The third and outermost level was where the market and some of the poorer residents were located. Artisans, smiths, and many of the soldiers lived in houses built into the walls or made of baked bricks with thatched rooves. It was the largest level, with layers extending beneath the ground for residents that preferred subterranean styles of life. The pair squeezed through the crowded, busy area with ease, making their way to the next gate.

The second level was much less crowded. Teachers, scholars, the higher ranking soldiers, and their servants lived here in their large homes with sturdy walls covered in compact pine shingles. The rooves were made of baked clay tiles, and the ovular glass windows had thin wooden shutters.

"Goodbye, Master," she answered, dipping her head. "Rest well." The old stood straight up again and nodded, turning on his heel towards his own home. Nimué nodded to a guard stationed at the final and smallest gate.

She stood beside the willows for a moment before she at last willed herself to go inside. Her parents, Nenya and Arterius, were the High Lord and Lady of the Clan Neridan. Her older brother, Agandaur, would succeed them one day. The stone halls were dim and sparsely decorated. The few baubles that remained in the keep were statues of long-dead Elven leaders of the Clan Neridan. She had nearly reached the door of her room when--

Nenya Neridan was a tall, pale she-elf with black hair and dark, gaunt brown eyes like dead leaves. She was garbed in dark gray robes and wore no jewelry. Though no one would admit it, many saw Nenya as a bland, tasteless woman that was better off reading scrolls in a library than making some of the day-to-day decisions of Elarion.

Hey! I saw this in the Green Room and seeing as its a first chapter I thought I'd check it out!

Okay, the first couple of sentences feel a bit over-written. The first few sentences are very important. They set the tone for the whole piece. Here, the excessive use of sounds, 'thwishing', 'twanged' and 'thumped,' and just feel a bit cumbersome. Especially because as I continued reading, this didn't happen again so it didn't match the tone on the rest of the piece.

You do a good job with exposition about the Road. The conversation sounded natural and not like 'okay I'm about to talk to you about important things in this story that sounds really weird and info dumpy.'

Nitpicks -

'The pair squeezed through the crowded, busy area with ease, making their way to the next gate.' - This doesn't read right to me. If they had to squeeze through the crowd, that doesn't seem to be with ease. I think what you meant was that they didn't mind the crowds because they were used to it and so could work through it easily, but maybe reword this so that's clearer.

"Rest well." The old stood straight up again' - the old man. (Also I think a little more description of her master would be useful as you just seem to push that he's old but then describe her mother really clearly.)

All in all, this is nicely paced and well written. But I think the end of the chapter is a bit dry. You should try ending it with a bit of a cliff hanger, or at least a bit of intrigue so the reader wants to keep reading to find out more.

Hope this helps!