The End of One Thnig and the Beginning of Another

Well, summer break is finally here! I have officially survived two full terms of college! After being so busy over the last six months, it is a strange feeling to have nothing to do. I must now decide what I want to do over the summer months. Other that the normal college student summer goals, such as get a part time job, work on my fitness, etc... My main plan for the summer is to write! My dear characters have been neglected for far too long, and I do think a few of them are getting crabby.

Today I sat down at my computer for the first time in nearly six months and opened the file named "My Story". The moment I opened up the file, I entered into that wonderful world, my world. I began to write, slowly at first, for I was a bit rusty, and then with more and more speed, until now, 1,500 words later I am ready to share a small snippet with you, my friends.

Why this rare treat, you my ask, well, I will tell you. Today I got the wonderful, thrilling pleasure of writing into being for the first time, my most favorite character that I have ever created... Soryn Llyr. He is no longer a figment of my mind, waiting for his part to come, no, he is now reality. I think this must be how it feels to have a baby, to be waiting so long for this person you have created and grown to love, and then to see him finally come to life... ah, it is a feeling like no other. 

And now, without further ado... I give you Soryn Llyr!

I have decided to simply give you the whole scene, with the exception of a small part, since I don't think it gives anything away, and it will give you a good feel for my whole story, not only Soryn.

"The Clapping Clam tavern was an old stone building with ivy growing up on either side of the wooden door. As soon as they walked in the door Rowan and Brogan were greeted by the smell of the clam chowder for which it was famous, a blazing fire, and the soft trill of a harp, from the corner where old Marc, the local bard sat. “Well, Lord Brogan! What can I get for ye today?” asked Balbo, the tavern keeper. He was a medium sized man in his early 40’s with broad shoulders and a middle to match. He had laughing blue eyes and his light brown hair and beard were slightly unkempt, giving him a flustered look. “Hello Balbo, I will get the usual, chowder and an ale.” Answered Brogan as he looked around the crowded room for a place to sit. “And you, young miss, will it be the usual chowder an’ cider for ye?” he asked cheerfully. “You guessed it,” replied Rowan as she followed her father to a table near the fire.

“So, what have ye been up to for the last month?” Brogan asked after they sat down. “Oh, the usual,” she answered, “Hiding from mum and Ella, lest I be made to sit around and do some of that wretched embroidery, sword practice with Sir James, poor Galien trying to get me to hit a target with a bow,” Brogan laughed, “What?” she asked incredulously, “I don’t know why he doesn’t just let me use my sling, I’m much better with that.” She took off her cloak and hung it over the chair in front of the fire. “So what about you, Did anything interesting happen while you were in Brockhoist?” She thought she saw a shadow of worry cross her father’s face at the mention of Brockhoist, but it disappeared just as quickly, and before she could ask him about it, Balbo arrived with their food. Two huge bowls of thick, creamy clam chowder, a thick slab of fresh bread, and two large mugs, one of ale, and one of steaming apple cider. “Thar ye go my Lord,” He said as he set it down on their table, “Fresh made,” he said proudly. “And it smells as good as ever, thank you Balbo.” Brogan replied, his smile returning. As he reached for his spoon, the tavern keeper bobbed his head several times and moved away from their table, smiling cheerfully.

As they ate, Marc the Bard, began playing a light jaunty tune on his harp that soon had everyone’s feet tapping and several men clapping their hands to the rhythm. Balbo was scurrying back and forth, refilling mugs of ale, bringing food to newcomers, and clearing the tables of those who had left. Rowan sighed contentedly as she leaned back in her chair with her mug of cider. There was no other place on earth she would rather be....

....Rowan turned her attention back to her food, but the contented feeling had lessened as she mused over Black Tom and his friends. Suddenly a cheerful greeting broke through her thoughts, “Well, Brogan me chap, ye made it back in time after all!” She turned to see the massive form of Odif, the horse trainer walking towards them. “Aye Odif, ye didn’t think I’d miss me ol’ friend’s wedding did ya?” said Brogan as he stood to shake hands with Odif and give him a massive clap on the back. Rowan noticed the slight shadowy form of Soryn, Odif’s nephew, standing slightly behind his uncle. “Hi Soryn,” she ventured, Soryn turned and glared at her, his dark brow furrowing in a scowl and his black eyes snapping in annoyance. Odif turned to his nephew and frowned. “Soryn, are you going to greet the young lady or not?” he asked, pinning Soryn with his piercing deep blue eyes. “Hi.” Soryn sneered before sitting by himself at a separate table.

“You’ll have to excuse him, he’s been having a hard time with my gettin’ married.” Odif said softly. “Why?” Rowan asked, stealing a sidelong glance at the brooding figure at the other table. “I think he’s afraid that it will turn out like when his father remarried.” “What happened?” She asked, unable to mask her curiosity. “Rowan,” Her father chided, somewhat sternly. “It’s alright Brogan,” Odif replied. “You see, Soryn’s father remarried because he needed someone to watch over his son while he was out at sea, but Soryn’s stepmom hated him, and every time Svengal, Soryn’s father, was gone she would have no mercy on him. When his father died when he was eight, her hatred of him got so bad that he ran away from home and had to learn to live out on the streets. Finally when he was seventeen he walked all the way from Brockhoist to here and found me. Since then he has been able to find a small amount of happiness liven with me an’ working with my horses, but now I’m gettin married, and I think he’s afraid he’ll get kicked out again.” Odif sighed sadly. “Why don’t you tell him that won’t happen?” Rowan asked, “I’ve tried,” Odif said sadly, “But he’s had a hard life for his young age, and has learned the hard way to trust no one.” “Oh.” Rowan replied. “But,” said Odif in a slightly more cheerful tone, “he just got accepted as Darryl Retawz’s new apprentice! I hope the woods will do him some good, and who knows he might even make friends with Darryl’s boy, Atokad.” “That’s great!” said Brogan as he mopped up the last of his soup with his bread.

Rowan turned to study the young man at the other table; his black hair was kind of long, and was cut around the base of his neck, his skin was bronze, and his black eyes now studied his hands which were folded on the table. He was the same height as her, and slightly built, but she had seen him working with horses, and knew he was strong. His shoulders were now hunched miserably, and his mouth turned down in a frown, but of course, he was always frowning. She had only seen him smile once, when he was working with a young horse, and it at last decided to trust him. As it nuzzled first his hand, and then his neck, he had smiled, and laughed a little too. He stirred suddenly, as if he could feel her watching him, and she turned away before he could catch her.  

Brogan and Odif talked for a long while over several mugs of ale, but finally Brogan rose to leave. “Well, I best be heading home before Aswyn starts worrying what happened to Rowan.” He said as he paid Balbo for the meal. “Aye, I’ve got a bit of work to finish up before tomorrow,” Odif replied, also rising. “And I’ve got to get this rascal something nice to wear. Can’t have him showin’ up to the wedding looking like he just got done mucking a stall.” He said as he wrapped one massive arm around Soryn’s shoulders. Soryn scowled and tried to wiggle free, but Odif held on. “Oh no you don’t.” He laughed, “you’re not escaping again. No, this time you’re comin’ with me.” He said as he practically dragged his nephew out the tavern door and towards the seamstresses place."

 Well, there you have it! It is sooooo good to finally have him in the story, and don't worry, he eventually becomes more likeable, and by the end of the story even loveable (though he would hate to hear it). I hope you enjoyed this brief introduction to my favorite character, and don't worry, there will be plenty more to come!