And then.. [Short Story Competition!] CLOSED

Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree.
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Hear ye, hear ye!

Gather around all ye story tellers! Regale us with your awesome writing skills!


I saw a picture and instantly my mind was trying to figure out what had happened and what the story behind it was and thought it would be a cool idea to see what other stories people could make with the same picture. This was just thought up on the fly, so no real rules. Basically write a story based on the picture below, make it as long or short as you like, the only rule is, is that it has to somehow incorperate the boy in the picture. If this takes off, then the winner gets to post the next picture. And they will receive some shinies from the NPF :D

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Ooops forgot..

DEADLINE 19th of January 2021!

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Ten days left!

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On Midsummer’s day the citizens of Minas Tirith, especially the children, brought out firewood to the traditionally designated spots on the fields of Pelennor. The wood was stacked as high as it could go, the groups from the seven circles of the White City competing against each other to see who would make the biggest bonfire. It was a matter of pride and each year they tried to outdo themselves. At sunset the bonfires were lit, the flames rising high into the air as if the firelight stove out to reach the stars. Music instruments were brought fort and soon music filled the field. The young and old, dressed in their best and most colourful attire, formed circles around the bonfires. Some groups were mixed, some not. The dancers were holding each other by the hand, or by the waist, which was more common with the younger groups. They swayed from left to right, their steps syncopated, changing and adapting according to the direction of the ringleader and the music. They would dance around the bonfires until they burn out. Then the children and teenagers, and even some of the more adventurous twenty and thirtysomethings (who were most likely trying to impress their sweethearts), would jump over the embers of the bonfire.

In between the music and dancing, there was food and drink that flowed freely (some would even say too freely), songs were sung by bards and minstrels and stories of all kinds from all places were being told around the burning fires. A group of youngsters sat around one such fire, eager to hear tales from the Perilous Realms. A girl, of 10 summers, sat at the edge of the group watching those around her and was the first to notice the uncanny Librarian. The woman of undetermined age, neither old nor young, walked between the bonfires. Her stola and pala were made of midnight blue spider silk enhancing the pale ivory of her skin. The only ornaments she wore were the golden, owl-shaped fibulae that were clasped on the shoulders of the stola and black hellebores that were woven in her long onyx hair. Her quicksilver coloured eyes shimmered in the firelight as she observed the revellers.

An unknown and unexpected urge seized the girl and she jolted from her spot and cried out to the Librarian. “Sayyida!” The girl called the uncanny woman, using the unknown term she sometimes heard people use when they spoke to the Librarian. She did not know if this was a name or a title, but the Librarian turned her gaze to the unassuming girl of 10 summers. As the group she was with turned to watch her, their faces reflecting various stages of surprise and shock, the bold girl continued speaking. “Sayyida, will you come to sit with us and tell a story?"

Lady Hellebore, as the Librarian was also known, turned her head to the side and looked at the daring girl. A faint smile graced her lips. With slow, deliberate steps the mercurial Librarian walked over to the group of youngsters and surprised them all when she sat down regally, arranging her clothes in the process.

“You asked to hear a story did you not çocuk?” Lady Hellebore spoke, her voice deep and melodious, drawing them all in. She watched them as they settled, growing quiet and leaning towards her eager to hear something they had not heard before. She smiled, not unkindly. “Kan wa ma kan,” she said quietly after a long silence. “It was and it was not…”


~*~


Over the seven mountains and across the seven seas there lies a lush and rich land shaped like a bird in flight. It is a land of vast differences, golden valleys with grain in abundance, a silent sea in which a thousand silver islands are scattered like fish. High mountains where the magnanimous eagles' nest, karst fields, fast-flowing rivers and crystal clear lakes. Marshlands where many birds nest. The people who live in that land are hardy men, brave and honourable warriors, slow to anger, but terrible in their wrath. Some would say that their customs and beliefs are as strange, hard and barbaric as their language. Yes, their language is hard to master, the sounds do not roll easily from the tongue... Nonetheless, it is a language of rare beauty and sadness. As are their songs and stories…

Our story begins in a karst valley, in the small village of Čardaci which lies next to the river Glibuša. Glibuša is a peculiar river, just like the river spirit that guarded it. It was muddy and slow at places, yet swift with strong currents in other. It was the height of summer and, as was the custom in the land, the villagers would spend the long, hot day inside their houses in semi-dark rooms. However, the village boys were allowed to be out, even at high noon, to practice for the Alka tournament. It was a knightly game, an equestrian competition held at the height of summer to commemorate a victory of the people from the Triplex Confinium against their enemies. Being allowed to participate in the tournament was a great privilege and the highest of honours.

I see on your faces that you are wondering why is this knightly game called Alka and what even is an alka. An alka is a metal ring made of two concentric rings connected with three bars. It is used in the tournament in such way that it is hung on a rope 3 meters above the race track. The horseman, who in the language of these people is called alkar, rides his horse down the race track in full gallop and tries to hit the central ring of the alka. Points are awarded depending on which part of the metal ring he hits. The game has three rounds, and the alkar with the highest amount of points wins. This knightly game required skill and luck and so the boys and men from the village of Čardaci practised and honed their skills with the spear and horse whenever they could.

The girls and young women, on the other hand, could not participate in this tournament and were required to stay inside their houses during the long hot summer days. To maintain their fair and elegant complexion, to learn and practice the feminine crafts – things that were expected of young and well-bred ladies. For who would want to marry a wildling lass kissed by the Sun God? You think this is cruel küçük kuşum? Perhaps one day when you have children of your own you will see things differently… But when there is a will, there is a way…

A girl of 11 summers lived in the village of Čardaci. She was the only child of the alajčauš, the commander of the alkari knights. Like all men, the alajčauš wanted a son, but the woman he loved more than life itself had died giving birth to his daughter, the girl named Matija. The man loved the girl with all his heart, but he did not know what to do with a girl child. He could not pass on to her the skills he had learned and honed through many years of practice and warfare. Neither could he teach her the skills and craft mothers passed onto their daughters… The love he had for his late wife was too great for him to remarry, so the girl was raised by his only surviving sister Sava the Lame who no one would wed. So love mingled with grief in the alajčauš’ household…

Matija was a smart and playful child, however, she was also sensitive to the moods of others. Even from an early age, she was aware of the shadows that hung like dark storm clouds over her father's household. She had desperately wanted to make her father and her aunt happy, for she loved them with all her heart. She tried to be what was expected from her, but that was not in the girl's nature. She was not meant to be confined to the shade of the house while the boys and young men played their knightly games and afterwards cooled themselves in the river Glibuša.

You remember, I had mentioned that the people of this land had strange beliefs and customs do you not? Although one could say that all beliefs and customs are strange to someone… Sava, Matija's kind-hearted aunt, was a wise woman well versed in the folklore of the land. She told many of these myths and legends of her people to the curious girl. But Matija's favourite was the myth of the Girl who ran under the Rainbow. Once upon a time in the village of Čardaci lived a young girl who more than anything wanted to be a boy. She had prayed to the gods of her people to turn her into a boy and cried bitter tears when every morning she still woke in a girl's body. It is said that one day the nameless girl went down to the river Glibuša. The story does not say why she went to the river, perhaps she wanted to end her life in its waters, perhaps she wanted to plead the river spirit to help her… As she walked to the river a rainbow appeared in the sky and an unknown urge took over the girl and she started running. She ran and ran, across the river, over the rainbow… And when she got to the other side the nameless girl was no longer a nameless girl, but a nameless boy.

Perhaps the myth of the Girl who ran under the Rainbow was just a myth, but every myth has a grain of truth in it. After all, some things that should not have been forgotten become lost as history becomes legend and legend becomes myth. All that mattered was that Matija believed that the story was true, and sometimes faith and belief can carry a person a long way… Her whole childhood Matija thought about that legend and about her family, her father who loved her but wanted a son so he could teach him all he knew and see him ride in the Alka tournament. She thought of her wise aunt who wished for a child of her own, her aunt who loved her so much and taught her so much... She thought about all of it until her heart was filled with longing and determination.

A day would come when a rainbow will appear over the river Glibuša and she would run across the field and across the river, faster than a doe she was compared to, faster than a bird in flight… She would run over the rainbow and become Matija, the boy her father needed. The day came and Matija ran…


~*~


"Did she make it?" the girl of 10 summers who called the Librarian over suddenly interrupted. There was an eagerness and yearning in the girl's trembling voice. Ah, the longing and the grief was familiar to this girl child. Lady Hellebore tilted her head slightly and observed the girl. Matija had drowned in the river, the marshy Glibuša took her and her body was washed to the river shore many days after. After he buried his daughter in the grave next to his wife, the alajčauš walked out of the village to the great forest. They found him the next day hanging from the sacred lime tree. Sava, the folklorist, buried her brother next to his family and left the village never to be heard or seen again.

But this was not the story the girl of 10 summers wanted to hear. Not the story this audience wanted and the storyteller must always know her audience and adjust her stories to suit their needs. Thus the Librarian changed the story, moulded it and shaped it into something new. She gave the children a kind smile, she was capable of being kind.

"Matija made it," she told them her voice melodious while she spun a new tale. "She ran as fast as she could from the village to the field, across the field to the river. She ran faster than a doe, faster than she ever ran in her life. She ran across the river, her feet not touching the water, not disturbing the river spirit… She ran over the Rainbow and was caught by it. Her body was broken, remade… The process of metamorphosis was the most painful thing she experienced in life. She cried she screamed, she pleaded for the pain to stop… But she endured and was transformed. Matija the girl passed under the Rainbow and was transformed into Matija the boy. She was found on the steps of her father's house, barefoot, dirty, bruised… But she was a boy child and her father wept. Not because she had managed to become a boy, although there was joy and pride in that, but because Matija was alive."


OOC: Well, this went to strange places, but I hope you'll like it @Winddancer :smooch: I need to give credit where credit is due, the inspiration for this story were two novels by the Croatian author Dinko Šimunović called Duga (Rainbow) and Alkar that are mandatory reading in Croatia's primary school. They are both rather depressing and I hope no one who's read them will ever read what I wrote here else I'd be mocked to death :lol: but erm yes, I was inspired to do a twist and give those stories a happy-ish ending. I'd say I'm sorry for everything, but y'all know me by now :lol: *goes to hide in a corner and cry*

edit: formating and the like hopefully fixed
She/her.
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When they found the boy, lying on the steps to the pauper's gate in the early hours, they feared he was dead. They nominated the fishmonger, with his somewhat-blind nose, to go and check the ragamuffin.

The ragamuffin, with an unearthly squawk, objected fiercely to being poked in the gut by a burly finger and lashed out with flailing limbs, catching the fishmonger in the face. Pain exploded behind his eyes and the fishmonger caught him by the arm, ready to tan his hide. The boy stiffened, and his grey-green eyes glanced around with a hunted expression; the fishmonger got ahold of himself and loosened his iron grip. The boy took the opening, darting past the surprised gaggle of early-morning market sellers, through the gate into the city. He disappeared in a matter of moments.

"Y'andled that well," remarked the butcher sagaciously, excavating his nose.

The fisherman cradled his nose tenderly. "Handled it well?" he repeated consideringly. "I subbose not. 'S'not offen I's got a libe one hittin' back!"

"Ain't that the truth!" muttered the smith's apprentice, and a knowing smile flowed fleetingly across the faces of the assembled onlookers. It was a long time since the fishmonger had been able enough to fish his own wares and they weren't often the freshest.

The crowd departed soon enough, each to their own stalls. The fishmonger went a more circuitous route to get an extra waterskin, and sat down in the back of his stall to clean his face of blood where the boy had hit his face. His teeth had cut his own upper lip, but the hit to the nose wasn't too bad; he hadn't broken it.

"Startled like a dab deer!" he chuckled to himself, wincing as he pressed too hard, wiping his face with one of his few clean cloths. He was grateful for his full beard and 'tache, for it'd mask the swelling a bit, if not the red soreness. "Poor kid."

With a sign he heaved himself up and set about prepping his stall, interrupted every so often by a customer from one of the taverns. The life of a fishmonger on market day was not a slow one, and before he knew it, it was past noon and his wares were down to the usual oddments and ends which he sold at a bargain price as filler for stocks and pies to the poorer folk.

He was cleaning down his stall when a very correct gentleman's gentleman arrived, pristine in black and grey. The fishmonger immediately wondered what he'd done wrong, but kept it out of his voice as he asked, "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"I have a requistion from the Quartermaster, to be fulfilled weekly at the start of next week," the man said, staring at the fishmonger's face as he handed over a list of requirements.

"Tha's ... a lotta fish," said the fishmonger, slowly.

"We realise that," the man said. "The army marches on its stomach."

The fishmonger - seeing all his ships coming in at once, quite unexpectedly - gaped.

"I am going to take that as an affirmative," the man sniffed, and visibly regretted it. "We would, of course, like to keep this arrangement as private as may be, but the Duke's son says he is very sorry."

"He does?" asked the bemused fishmonger.

"Oh, he does!" confirmed his benificent messenger. "He will, at some stage, be down to apologise in person, but since he is under house arrest for the foreseeable future, he sent me to convey his deepest regrets."

The fishmonger felt all at sea in this conversation. "Uh," he grunted noncomittally.

"Of course, that means he'll probably be out tomorrow, dressed like a chimneysweep with no one any the wiser," the man snipped bitterly, mostly to himself.

The fishmonger blinked, as his brain tried to catch up and equate the filthy ragamuffin he'd thought dead this morning with the pampered little princeling they most often saw dressed in pale blue silk and riding an enormous war horse in his father's wake through the city.

The baker's lad turned up at the stall with a handful of bronze pennies, trying not to get his whites soiled on the fishmonger's table. The fishmonger gave him a bag of scraps and pocketed the coins, turning back to his distinguished visitor.

"I'm sure I'm very grateful," he said, ignoring the previous comment. "I ain't done nothin' much."

"That's as maybe," sniffed the man, then winced. "You will come and arrange the details with the head chef tomorrow morning."

The fisherman nodded.

The baker's boy was still hanging around.

"Whaddya want, kid?" the fishmonger asked. "Your Mama want more'n that?"

"No," the boy said, looking up suddenly, grey-green eyes very earnest. "I really am sorry, and - thanks for not licking the tar outta me. I know you could've, wanted to maybe ... You're a kind man. I wanted you to know I know."

The fishmonger blinked, a slow smile dawning over his face. "House arrest, eh?" he said.

The boy grinned.
Last edited by Lirimaer on Tue Jan 19, 2021 9:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Wood-elves lingered in the twilight of our Sun and Moon, but loved best the stars.

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It was not easy, being all alone. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He still had his parents, but his dad was never home, and his mom was sick. So, he felt like he was all alone. But he did have a few friends to play with, which was nice, until for some unknown reason, their parents started saying to not play with him.
The boy wandered the city day after day. He wasn’t proud of it, but he would often steal food from the market for himself and his mom. One day, while running from a vendor he’d just stolen some bread from, he heard the footsteps gaining on him. “Oh no. He’s going to catch me this time.” He thought to himself. Suddenly, a girl, looking like an orphan herself, came charging in from the opposite direction and tripped the vender.
“Come on, this way.” She called to him.
He turned and followed. They darted through the crowd, slipping past people left and right. Eventually, they found themselves at a dilapidated shack with a few other kids.
“Welcome back Kia.” One of the other kids said. “Who’s this?”
“Ren.” The boy said. “My name is Ren.”
“Welcome Ren.” The others introduced themselves in turn. But to be honest, he didn’t really pay much attention to the names. He was more interested in the girl who saved him. After the introductions were made, Ren learned some of the other kids had stolen candy, and water from the market as well, and it was all going to be divided up.
“It’s not fun being hungry. We try to get enough for us to enjoy. That bread you have will really help.” Kia said. “Happiness should be shared with everyone one of us.”
Ken felt a twinge in his heart. At nine years of age, he had to admit, he never really thought about girls, but this one might be worth thinking about. With just having known her for only maybe twenty minutes, she was a lot tougher than many grownups he knew.
The food was divided up and she disappeared. “Huh, where’d she go?” he mumbled.
“Kia? She usually hangs out out front.” One of the other kids said.
Ren didn’t really run, but he was quick with his exit. He took several steps out of the shack and looked around, but didn’t see anyone.
“Hey Ren. Whatcha doing?” came a voice behind him. Ren turned to look and saw Kia sitting in the tree that rose taller than the shack. She was on a branch that hung over the entrance. “You come looking for me?” she asked with a smirk on her face.
He was sure his face turned red in embarrassment. “tsk.” He crossed his arms and looked away. “And why would I be looking for you?”
Laughter came. “You’re weird.”
Now Ren was angry. “How dare you laugh at me.” Only for Kia to continue to laugh. “You’re the weird one. That takes a lot of nerve to laugh at me. I’m going to be a soldier one day. Then you’re going to have to take me seriously. Stop laughing at me.” Ren continued as Kia laughed.
Over the next few months, Ren stayed with the other kids, taking food from the market to ‘feed the family’ as the group called it. The group of kids grew to be more of a family than his own parents had been. At night though, he’d dream about his parents, but he never went back home to check on them, not that expected his dad to ever come home.
One day, while scouring the city streets, Ren, Kia, and a couple of the other kids came across a gathered around a couple war horses, or at least, that’s what they looked like to him, tied up outside a home. Apparently a resident had been recruited to join the army, and everyone was proud. Ren and the others watched as the young adult exited the home flanked by a couple soldiers. They looked so strong, like nothing could ever defeat them. As they passed by, Kia fainted.
The soldiers stopped and one kneeled. “My goodness young lady.” He reached out and felt her wrist. “You must be hungry. You’re nothing but skin and bones.” The soldier looked at Ren and the other kids. “You all must be.” The other kids ran off, but Ren stayed. “Here.” The soldier said, handing over a bundle. “It’s not much, but it should help. It’s a small packed lunch.”
“Sir, we’re running late.” Another soldier said tapping the kneeling one on the shoulder.
“Fine.” The one said rising to his feet. He looked down. Ren saw concern in his eyes. The soldiers then left.

Later that day, Ren, Kia, and some of the other kids began ‘training’ with sticks. Some were ‘swords’ some were ‘spears.’ But the training was serious. They were going to be soldiers. Like that kind one who gave some food.
Ren was proud to be one of the best, but for some reason, he could never land a blow on Kia. She was just too quick on her feet. Due to them being the best, the other kids were adamant that he and Kia should leave when old enough to go join the army. But Kia said she didn’t want to leave them.
***
A year passed, and a sickness had struck. All the kids had died except Kia and Ren. It had been especially hard on Kia, who it seemed had started the group. With the family gone, they decided to try their hand at being apprentice soldiers. So the two of them made their way to where they had met the solder a year prior. They asked around to learn who to talk to. Eventually they were told where to go.
It was almost nightfall when they arrived at the training grounds and found a hut where the training supervisor was stationed.
“Hello sir.” Ren called out. The soldier exited. “We’re here to join the ranks. Who must we talk to about that?”
The soldier looked them over. Ren was sure the guy disapproved of how they looked. “Be here in the morning. My superiors will be here then and they can go over everything with you then.” The two nodded.
The next morning, the journey to their future began, but it also began the journey to heartbreak.

Ren and Kia were allowed to join. Their journey was filled with much book learning and weapons training. They grew more and more able, but like a year prior, Kia’s abilities outshone his own.
One day, Kia missed a training session. After the class, Ren went looking for her. Eventually he did so at the barracks. She was surrounded by a group of nobles. Ren was frozen stiff at the looks in their eyes. The nobles looked determined, but Kia looked as though she was trying to hide depression. One of the nobles said, “We’ll be awaiting your answer.” Then the group left.
“What was all that about?” Ren thought to himself. So he asked Kia, that very question.
She bowed her head. “Apparently, they wish to adopt me into the family. With my abilities, they say, I wouldn’t draw much ire. Not only that, but with their connections, I could gain a post almost immediately.”
Ren was stunned. “That’s amazing. You should go for it! You’re so lucky.”
Kia didn’t look up. A tear could be seen dropping to the floor. She then rushed out of the room.
“Why was she crying?” Ren thought.
The next day he learned. Kia took the offer and was gone. He asked around, but was never told where she went.
He spent the next several months shirking his learning trying to learn where Kia was. He was beaten severely for it, and eventually was discharged. He didn’t care. He had to find Kia. Why was she sad?
It only took a couple months, but he had practically returned to looking like the orphan bum he was before his training. It took almost a further year, but he found where Kia was. He was sick, hungry, and cold, and the shoes he had had fallen apart. He was filthy, but he didn’t care. He had to see Kia again.
It took him all night, but he got to the home. But he was exhausted and had collapsed on the front steps of the residence.

“Ren! what are you doing here?” came a voice. Ren didn’t stir. “Ren! Wake up.” Kia knelt down next to him and shook him. He didn’t stir. “Ren! Wake up. Please wake up.”
One eyelid barely opened. A weak voice came through. “Kia. I finally found you.”
“What happened? I thought you were in training?”
“I couldn’t be without you.” Ren coughed several times. “But I’m afraid, I’ll be leaving you now. And after I finally found you again.” His eyes closed and his breathing shallowed.
“Ren.” She shook him. “Ren!” There was the sound of air passing softly. “Ren!”
Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy- Stonewall Jackson
Hubris guarantees disaster.- T C

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Thank you guys for your submissions! You made it so hard for me that I am going to have another judge weigh in. Hang tight, once they give me their feedback I will announce the winner! <3 So cool to see how many different stories can come from 1 picture :D

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And the winner is....

Nessa Sealind! <3

A huuuge thanks to all of you for participating, it warmed my cold dead heart. Though it did enjoy all the suffering in the stories.. >.> what..

Edit: oops! Also thanks to my secret judge! <3

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@Nessa Saelind feel free to start the next one whenever and whereever! :D

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:goodbye: Thank you @Winddancer :smooch: and thanks also goes to the mystery judge :smooch: I'm glad you enjoyed what we came up with :winkkiss: And also a huge thanks to @Lirimaer and @Turin Ringhûn whose stories were wonderful <3

I think I'll open the next thread in CoLP, for now, maybe more people will see it there. And maybe we could move the thread around every now and then for novelty sake :grin:
She/her.
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:clap: Well done, Nessa. :clap: Congrats, a story well told x

And thanks for the shinies, WD x

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