OK, this is the opening chapter to my little novel – I think the prologue may have been a little confusing but it was really just to set the stage and background, hopefully this is a bit more straightforward. Any feedback is greatly appreciated this is the first time I have actually written anything major, although I do have my roughs from college the whole story is slowly coming back to me and I thought it was time to put it to paper.
Snork Maiden 22-04-2002
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New Star Rising.
Nestling in the valley of the East Gadllyn foothills, lay the small and peaceful village of Prer. With a population just under three hundred and fifty people, Prer was simply put, an agrarian community. Most of the families had ancestry dating back for generations, though many people had left for the cities and towns after the East Gadllyn caravan route had opened up the interior of Dewyll to the traders of Lyvria. The village was built along the small stream, known locally as the Ruene Wash and it wound its way gently southwards towards the Crystal Sea.
The farmers of Prer were well skilled in crop growing and animal husbandry. Providing good food, ale as well as providing winter fodder for the animals, Prer operated as a simple co-operative with respect to it own whilst raising revenue by selling carefully managed surpluses to the passing traders from the caravans which occasionally stopped by. These traders would spend their money freely, purchasing the fine local brewed ales and taking a few days to rest and feed their animal trains before heading on into the less hospitable Hygrdal wastelands that separated the coastal region of Dewyll from the citadels in the north.
It was in this village, that Tradryll, the local blacksmith ran his modest business. In fact business was very good for him as there was never a shortage of repairs to carry out on farm equipment and horseshoeing to administer. This trade didn't raise much in the way of riches for most times he would take payments in food supplies and of course the old worn materials, which he would smelt down and refashion. Yet this was the way of the simple community. The caravans however provided him with a much more lucrative business, the merchants often paying him with other goods, such as clothing, blankets and other items not found locally. Occasionally he even got paid with silver.
Tradryll was a tall man, just over six feet in height, broad and with a muscular upper body and arms developed from his hours of toiling over the scorching furnace of his forge, his brows often singed by the heat and his face furrowed and pitted from the sparks of hot metal and the sweat generated by the effort he exerted as he hammered the glowing iron. Watching it turn from yellow through to cherry red as he hammered and shaped the bars and strips on the large anvil which stood in the center of his shop and then reheating it, turning it deftly with the huge iron tongs. He was a popular man, not least with the farmers who relied on his craft to maintain their tools and horses, but also by the local youngsters who would come to watch the big man at work. He would often take breaks and sit with them, telling them old stories of the sphere, and of the guardian dragons. Such stories would hold the children in awed silence, as they listened open mouthed at the adventures and tales of the old times. Some of the older children would work the billows for him as he hammered and always he handed out the buns and cakes baked by his wife, Keriquen, specifically for them.
Tradryll had met his wife, a Lyvrian, some years earlier during a Caravan assignment to into the neighbouring province. He had been hired by a particularly wealthy Caravan owner to maintain his wagons and horses, which were carrying a very important cargo into Jufran, the Lyvria capital. Although Tradryll never knew what the cargo was or even really worried to ask. He had met Keriquen in the marketplace; she was then barely twenty years of age. The attraction between them had been almost hypnotic and spontaneous. He had been attracted by her deep blue eyes and long jet black hair. She had a way of looking into him he felt at the time, almost as if she knew him completely. Over the few weeks he was in Jufran, they spend more and more of their free time together, she working as a market delivery girl and himself shoeing the and preparing the wagons and horses for the return journey to Dewyll. So it was that when the time came for him to leave, she agreed to travel with him back to Prer to become a blacksmith's wife.
As it turned out, he discovered she had another talent, one which had not been realised until she had settled in the small stone cottage he had built on the edge of the village. She was a natural at cultivating and preparing herbal remedies. She would bake cakes and flavour them with angelica and mint, whilst producing ointments and oils used not only to cure the village people, but also the animals as they fell ill. She found great pleasure in her accomplishments and in the spirit of the community only took payment in kind, sometimes eggs, sometimes flour or beets. In any case she would bake them into cakes and give them to her husband to pass on to the village children. There was something else she had found since marrying Tradryll and moving from the busy citadel to the rural lands of Dewyll. She sensed a new affinity with the world around her, the plants and stones she knew, not by their man given names but by their natural unspoken and unwritten names. It was a feeling of complete oneness and a sensation of intense serenity and security. She had never been as happy in her life as she was living in this idyllic village and it's simple uncomplicated and unselfish way of life.
Tradryll had been working hard the past 6 months and saving earnestly all the silver he could from the caravan commissions. Keriquen was heavy with child and due to give birth within the next few months. He had spent a lot of his free time gathering stones and building an extension on their modest cottage. A nursery for the new member of the family. Being a weekend, Tradryll had taken the day to help his wife around the cottage. She sat on a stool in the back yard milking Abyss, a mountain goat that had wandered into the cottage the winter before and having sampled much of the furnishings had decided that she would like to stay with this family. At the time Tradryll had not been overly impressed by the goats actions, but the laughing and smiling face of his wife as she had retrieved his half chewed pants from the goat, soften his anger. Abyss turned out to be a fine asset, providing milk that Keri would use for cooking and even turning into cheese, flavouring it naturally with selected herbs from her garden.
As the milk jets hit the pail making their familiar ringing sound, Keri turned to her husband. 'You know we really should try and find a nice boyfriend for Abyss,' she smiled back at the goat, 'You'd like that wouldn't you Abyss, a nice boy goat to keep you company?'
As if understanding her, the goat bleated.
'That's the last thing we need,' Trad retorted, 'can you imagine the damage two of them goats would cause unattended.' He looked at the chain he had made to prevent the goat from late night snack expeditions and smiled at his creation. 'You can't chew through that can you,' he thought to himself, recounting the number of times the goat had nibbled its way free of the ropes they had tried to secure her with.
'Besides,' he continued, 'you can't milk a male goat'
'Hmmm,' Keriquen replied thoughtfully, 'Does everything have to have a purpose?' She continued to milk the goat, 'Don't you worry,' she said softly to the goat, 'I'll find you a friend,' she patted the goat gently as she finished the milking, rising from the stool she carried the pail into the cottage and placed it on the oaken table which stood centrally on the stone floor of the kitchen.
Outside Tradyll continued to lift the stone blocks into place forming the last of the walls of the extension. Soon he would be looking to lay down the beams for the roof, but that would be a week or so away. He had already arranged a wood felling session with Fresk one of the local farmers, for now he would be content to get these walls finished.
