Young Writers Society

heres part of chapter two enjoy and please write a review, but not about grammer and spelling

thanks

Chapter Two:

Aroland’s Leper

The fall of Járl

Year three-hundred and ninety-nine

Harsh winds and torrential rains made flying hard for the Falon, Sasnoth. He struggled against the winds, rocking from his left to his right. His brown and whit feathers dripped with freezing rain. At last through the dense clouds he saw the dark mountains, the Iron Mountains. Two guards stood watching the sky for the messenger Falon. One pointed with a leather clad finger.

Sasnoth went into a dive toward the platform his yellow eyes wide open. He came down with a soft landing, his talons out ward in front of him.

Óyy ebéro owhoa, nfalon. The dwarf grunted, his grey tunic bore the Járl crest.

Excuse me? Sasnoth asked, rain dripped from his brown beak.

Óyy ehereo yeweyk? the voice said gruffly.

The two guards looked at each other with soaked beards.

Then one looked at the Falon, way this come, he said and lead the Falon through a pair of iron doors, the other guard looked in with envy.

Inside, the mountain palace was very cozy and warm. The ceiling was short for Sasnoth, for he stood at least two heads taller than the average dwarf. The brown and whit feathered Falon stepped into a large hall. Sasnoth arched his back in a stretched to relieve the strain from being bent over. The many columns that held the hundred foot ceiling up from collapsing were adorned with many different runes and pictures. Some pictures that were represented had dwarves with giant hammers and axes, fighting dragons and giant men-like creatures. Other pictures were of magnificent stone palaces atop mountains. Sasnoth looked at the rest of then room. Statues were aligned on a path to the main throne. The other dwarves stared at the Falon with curiosity. The stout women were all with a man, and some men had more than one woman. All of the men sported a thick beard of dark color, and they all had a large mug of mead.

The king looked at the drenched Falon and smiled. His head was adorned with a magnificent crown of gold, silver, and the crown was rimmed with platinum. His red robe came from the ancient furred dragon that once roamed the high tips of the Járl Mountains.

The shaft of his ax was gilded. He placed it in his lap and opened his arms in joy. Come me laddy, what news does yee bring from the outside world.

I have indeed come to bring your majesty some news.

Sasnoth, Sasnoth, the king of Járl said interrupting the Falon, I know yee too well, please call me lord.

Of course, my lord, Sasnoth said ruffling his wet feathers. The matters in which I have come to talk to you about are of private matters.

Is that so the king, Fyrri, said. Then in private we will commence our talk. But for now we feast!

The many dwarves of the hundred-column hall roared with cheers. They pulled up tables into the middle of the room. Table clothes of silk and plates of silver were placed upon the tables. In a few minutes whole boars were set on the table, along with dozens of magnums filled with all different kinds of beers and meads, from all different lands.

Sasnoth sat next to lord Fyrri and his five wives, all of which were sparsely clothed. The Falon ate the hind leg of a large boar with his large and scaly feet. The other male dwarves starred at the Falon with faces of disgust. Sasnoth ignored them.

Then the king spoke to Sasnoth in a whisper, does this private conversation of your involve any others. The lord raised his eyebrow while fondling the lower part of the wife on his knees’ dress.

Yes my lord, Sasnoth said staring at his meat, the conversation must involve your dear son, Oagle.

Lord Fyrri turned his head to the wife on his left behind his shoulder, Oagle ogos teget. The wife nodded sending brown curls waving in the musty air. Then she walked out a set of iron doors that had runes engraved across the middle.

In a few minutes a young teenage dwarf came out of the iron doors, although he was only sixteen years of age, he still sported a long brown beard. He stood shorter than most dwarves and his musculature was stronger and more bulkier than ordinary of dwarves. His red breeks and absence of a shirt suggested that he was awoken from slumbering. He rubbed his eyes looking at his father with interest on what he has to say.

RefeÞrs tawat? Oagle asked. Then he looked at Sasnoth. At first he did not recognized the Falon, then his memory came back. Dear old Sasnoth! My old friend. How be the road of this hour?

Wet young prince, Sasnoth said gravely, I have matters of such that need to be spoken in private.

Oagle looked at Sasnoth, then at his father. He nodded and stood up.

This way, he gestured to a door on the right side of the great hall. Es osensér winewinn dobad, Fyrri said to one of his many wives before he entered into the room.

The door shut and coldness instantly made Sasnoth shiver. The combination of winter temperature and rain was abnormal to the talons high altitude flying. He ruffled his feathers and looked at father and son with two big yellow eyes. Then began the conversation, I have been sent by the council of wise, specifically by Withomi. The location of him is unknown to me. He left Tromdillion several weeks ago.

I could really care less about the mage, Sasnoth. Why call my son to here your ramblings?

The Falon sighed, he must come with me to fort Knöte, and there he is to join Withomi to a council in Islengrad.

Why not send him to Islengrad right away? Fyrri said acting as though his son wasn’t in the room.

I do not question the knowledge of the wise, Fyrri. And neither should you.

When is he to leave?

Now, Sasnoth said sternly

Fyrri opened the door and gestured for the Falon to leave the stone room. Is there any other news you mean to disgust?

Yes, Sasnoth said with his whit wings crossed in front of his chest, on my journey I saw a Morg army headed this way, with them was brought dangerous storms and powerful winds.

Then you must leave at once, now go!

The Falon left and father and son starred into each others eyes, shall I get ready? Oagle asked his father

No my dear lad and son, go naught but the clothes on your back and the ax in your hand.

But I wanna stay fater. Oagle pleaded. I wanna blood me ax in ta battle glory tat I dream of.

You are a good son, Oagle. A good and brave laddy you be. In time you will take me throne and become lord of the mountain kingdom Járl. Now go, Sasnoth awaits you.

Without another word Oagle walked out of the room. He looked behind him and saw his father through a crack of the slightly unclosed door. He sat on a bed, holding his head up his a callused hand. A drop fell from his face. Oagle turned away and fallowed the Falon, Sasnoth, into the wet mountain top. A Grolmn laid down with a battle ax strapped to its thigh. Oagle turned back thinking he would see his father one last time, but he had already seen him for the last time.

The voice in the black stone laughed, so the putrid beer lovers are gone.

Aye, hissed the man, my entire army left none alive. I think the distraction is working my lord. They think I am trying to befuddle their wrong prophecies.

Did any one escape?

No my lord. None that I am aware of, for I watched the entire battle

Good. My master once told me that the mage of dragons would be a magic user by blood. Once the dwarves are extinguished all that is to be left are to be the mages, native breeds, and Bretons.

The mages are soon to fall, and I will take joy in killing off the Bretons. The native breeds of this island to not know or wish to know of the true prophecies.

We will succeed my friend, give it time, and we will save our world. Even if it means the extermination of a breed. We will succeed

In that night I saved the last of the Járl people. The existence of dwarves looks bleak.

The personal journal of Sasnoth, messenger of the royalty.

Year three-hundred and ninety-nine