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Writer
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: Pennsylvania
Gender: Male
Posts: 41
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A beginning to a story pretending to be in verse
So, I'm a little worried about posting this here, because there is so much talent around, and this is just something I scratched out between classes the other day, but I thought I might as well see what anyone thinks before wasting any more time expanding it.
Backround:
Here is a piece of a side-story to the story of the enchanted woods [Part one posted after this] I started to write last semester but got sidetracked on. We have been studying Beowulf and stories like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in Brit Lit, so I've had the urge to write stories in a sort of 'verse' lately (though the enchanted forest story was in the same format). The plans I have for the story are pretty cliche, but I see Tyren embarking on some type of quest where he might (of course) run into trouble, and solve this trouble and gain the trust of the people and lastly take the throne of Werne... Yay! I doubt the story will ever make it that far, and it's not really anything special in the first place, but I just felt the need to write something.
Enjoy (or don't.):
Tyren at age young was a noble prince in Heighland,
The boy fourteen attended to his king's guests during every commence,
He fell witness to Lord Vien in his wise youth charting wars,
While another day he'd observe noble Orent's convince at work,
Or the next Luther's visions of the perfect fortress to protect all.
Without bias the youth would absorb the best of all visitors,
So in age Tyren became trained in all aspects of kinghood.
Seventeen he was when his father and king gave Tyren crown,
In throne of an outlying castle at young Hereith he was positioned,
While an army of peers to him looked for their needed guidance.
As lord of Hereith Tyren continued study in subjects vast,
To lands far he'd often travel to meet scholars and copy texts,
Until his own library was grand and others sought the knowledge of it.
Tyren accepted all into it's doors with no suspicion or thought ill,
At this his overseer and forbear disapproved for enemies could infiltrate.
Undeterred Tyren set for Athet for a learning in ancient dialect.
Upon returning riding upon horse Tyren found not his flag,
And at the gate of Hereith he demanded an entrance to his throne,
The request was denied in his sire's name upon the very throne he sought,
Tyren was outsed by his lord and father an event without doubt unjust,
Still he denied hostility and mounted toward the rubble town of Olthen,
Twas a place of acceptance much like Herieth would have been,
There he stayed for a week less two at Rothen's tavern and inn.
He nightly quenched himself with a knight's liquor, not noble wine,
Upon the night fifth from under a text of geography he peered,
A man in cloaked grey with white beard and hair there sat,
Not a smile nor frown from his stone grey eyes shone in return.
He spoke slow calling Tyren by name, and acknowledged ill luck,
Tyren had never met the man but a man of accepting was he,
So the two in conversation among the clatter about fell deep.
As the crowd thinned and fires dulled the two remained now sober,
'To my house let's depart, a bed is ready for you've been expected'
And at this Tyren accepted with joy, for he was low on coin to stay.
The stranger led him over the dark cobbled streets under light of moon,
Arriving at a house of stone on which there wasn't a window to be seen.
'You'll rest safe here for tomorrow I have a proposition worth your consider'
Obeying, Tyren lay on a bed in a small room and set out a candle.
Sometime later, a time unknown for there were no windows, he rose slow,
And out the door until he glanced his host setting bowls upon an oak table.
Upon invitation to be seated he gripped and paged the local paper,
They then ate and removed to a room adjacent lit by chandelier grand,
The stranger sat in a large padded chair of green and lit a pipe to offer,
They smoked for a time until a knock twice on the door then sounded,
After which entered a man clad in silky silver with hair the same.
He greeted the stranger host with a foreign name and smiled upon Tyren,
After rising and greetings exchanged everyone seated at a table round,
And first then the host spoke 'Tyren this man adjacent you is a friend,
By the name of Cordin he goes and sits with Ethine, Lord of Werne.
As of late Ethine has overpacked prisons with deeds only innocent,
And has raised tribute costly in a time of peace threatening prosperity.
Cordin seats as an advisor to the throne and brings risky news,
For it is a belief of many that Ethine wishes war on neutral peoples.
I, myself once advised Ethine's father, and the father before that,
But when Ethine took to throne he shunned wizardry and I took forced leave.
Since I've traveled the world far and have had long thought on Werne's fate.
Now I fear this history rich state and lands could face the fires of war,
And the fall of kings of peace and greatness will then rest in ashes and smoke.
Werne will decay with our without Ethine until a lord worthy is seated there,
And you, Tyren I have seen led the Hereith walls well and would continue.
So this I as a friend propose to you: Win lordship of Werne and free it of fate,
I have deliberated this and have found you to be one who can turn fortunes.
You wont know it yet, and neither the people, so a reputation needs built,
For tonight Cordin and I have things to attend so in this house you'll sleep,
Tomorrow early let the matter be furthered and to an early start we'll see'
Not long thereafter the wizard and Cordin departed on their errands,
Tyren was to his thoughts and pipe smoke left for the remainder of day.
Having just been removed from his own land the prospect of another pleased him.
The hours next were spent with a book of old detailing downfalls of kingdoms,
When eyes became weary and thoughts lost track of reading Tyren sought bed.
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'Enchanted Forest' (working title)
I. Smoke and Flame
The trees in Atrumous Forest stand stall,
Their trunks are grey, canopies are thick,
The giant trees leave little room, just one path,
It enters between the only trunks of brown,
Massive and old with carved bark they stand alert,
Only those with stone hearts may pass.
The old wizard who bears no name, enchanted the entrance,
For thousands have sought shortened trip and never returned,
With his staff he tapped the trunks and whispered,
Now only those who believe in their own will may pass.
Yet, once inside wills can often change, and something will know.
It's told that evil lurks deep in tombs without light,
While lately not a soul has dared to find out.
In towns nearby, on rainy nights men often peer,
They see figures, through their windows, entering the path,
'Hooded, they're always hooded, and they never rest,
What they do gives me no shiver, for they cause no unrest.'
Wiser men scratch their beards, 'the figures are odd,'
Seers foretell of smoke, 'always smoke, but where fire?'
Kings of lands by rivers hold their hand high, begging silence,
While those homeless watch and itch for adventure.
A militia of such, against King Darmuth's will, collect,
By the edge of the forest they set camp and tell stories,
'That time before I was expelled I slay that dragon,
Men felt greed and fought for wealth, I stayed true,
In settling dispute between two, in anger I took Lylin's head,
and old Darmuth, he gave no thanks of my efforts, hmph.
The old wizard, he resides by a lake on his own,
He had served noble Tyren for years, he was kept safe,
He lately felt impending doom and left during night,
'He's finally lost it, yes it's sad but all true.'
The wizard set up a hut, and is never seen outside,
'Smoke, there's always smoke' Bolten saw,
'Noises, noises too, from the hut, he's gone insane.'
'He's old and fragile, there is no help, leave him'
So Darmuth said, and all but one departed in solemn,
'I think he sees something troubling, let's appeal to him'
'No, no, he is of little use now, let's leave him be.'
'He has lived longer than any wizard, why should he be left?
Surely the Azmuth never did anything of the kind!'
'That is long ago done, and I, Darmuth, follow none.
Now please, your dues, I expect them soon, goodnight.'
The men by the forest grew more, they got loud,
In past nights no shadows have been engulfed by the forest,
Yet one among their own has gone astray,
'The forest! It wasn't foul play, it was the forest!'
'He's been taken, the old drunk, he wondered in!
Away! Away! We will save him, men depart!'
'Not yet! Now is not the time, calm and listen!'
And so the party split, half treaded the path in fury.
'The forest will not take well to anger, I fear they're lost,
Mean of Reason, that we are, so to see the wizard, embark!'
So six of the remaining party left on horseback toward the lake,
As they came over the horizon they saw the usual smoke, but..
'The fire! It's here, it's here! The wizard is gone, finally at rest.'
The hut was aflame, all men lowered their heads with closed eyes,
Back to the forest they trotted without a mutter,
'What news? Tis not good, he will not help?'
'A fire...He's gone, gone...At rest at last.'
The party summoned a priest to the lake that night,
The flames had gone, grey smoke lingered still.
Darmuth bid quick farewell, he had business to attend,
Tyren and his wife remained when all but the party left.
'Let him not be forgotten Tyren, though the world already has,
He's touched the lives of any who have ever lived,
And let his story inspire all those who ever will.
__________________
Let those who are in favour with their stars,
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
[William Shakespeare, Sonnet XXV]
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The pen is mightier than the sword, I know. But what about the pencil? 
This is how my life is: I'm forever beating my head against a wall...
All I have to say is ... "SMURF!!!"
