Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Shannara books, although I do own
the stuff I made up ;)
OK, Sorry everyone if this sucks, but please Review, and tell me so!!!! If you disagree with something, then please tell me, so I can add it. I am trying my best to get everything accurate as possible. I will also try to update frequently. (Hopefully, this will go through :S)
Thank you soooo much!!!
___________________________________________
An icy cold wind ripped the desolate village and Kaelin pulled her cloak tighter around her, as she greeted her newborn son for the first time. His face was round and happy, like that of any baby. He had a few wisps of black hair on the very top of his head. His eyes were a deep forest green, like his fathers. He has my nose, Kaelin thought. But he looks like his father. She smiled down at her son. But there was a sadness in her eyes. Without her husband, Jendar, to support them, she would not be able to care for her son. She knew that with the disease that had killed her dearest Jendar, the village was unsafe. Half of the people had died already, so it was likely Kaelin could have the disease. She had to protect her son, save him from this tragedy. "I am sorry, but I must send you away. You don't even have a name yet, poor thing. I guess I shall call you Terin, after your grandfather. Goodbye, my son." Spoke Kaelin, with much remorse. She placed him in a small basket and placed a letter in his hand, and gave him to the dwarven trader. "Please make sure he finds a good home," Kaelin almost pleaded. "I will do my best," came the almost uncaring response. With all the disease and turmoil, the trader could hardly worry about the life of one small child. However, the trader had a good heart, and could not force himself to leave the child behind. He would drop him at the next village though, he promised himself.
However, the next village was just as destroyed as the last, so there was nowhere to leave the child. And the village after that was the same way. Even some major cities, such as Taraford, were overcome too. There was nowhere left, so the trader decided to return home. There was however, the problem of the child. Rans, which was the trader's name, was a dwarf, who lived in the dwarven lands, where the plague had yet to hit. He sighed. It seemed to be dying down, and a new city was even being founded in the border lands for the survivors. Although it would be more profitable to trade with the new town, called Tyrsis, Rans pitied the humans in the plague ridden towns, so he occasionally brought them food and supplies. As a dwarf, he seemed to be immune to the disease, so he was not at danger. Maybe, on his next trip he could bring the child back to Tyrsis, where people might be more willing to accept a child.
It was two days of wailing and crying later, that Rans reached his home in Ravenshorn Mountains, and he was already regretting taking the child. He was a trader, not a parent. He had never married for this reason, and now he had a child to take care of all alone. His small hut was on the outside of a small dwarven village. It was small, although very homey. He had a small kitchen, with a fire almost always going in the hearth, and some stew always filled the house with rich aroma. There was a living room, with a very cramped sort of feel, and a small bedroom. Rans supposed he would keep the child in the living room. With a sigh, he entered his house, and his life changed forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The small boy ran, toy sword in hand, chasing after imaginary gnomes. His unruly blue black hair whipped through the wind, and his emerald green eyes were alight with excitement. Rans sighed as he realized that the boy would soon be restless with his imaginary foes, and would search to fight real ones, like Rans himself did. It had been six years since Rans had taken the child in, and he still had yet to try to find him a new home. As it seems, Rans had become very fond of the boy, who had the hardy stubbornness of a dwarf. He had even given up trading, so he would not have to leave home. They know lived in a small dwelling right near the gnomish lands, where Rans now hunted gnomes for a trade. He was given compensation for every gnome head he brought to the dwarven King, and he was able to live with little interference from people. He laughed softly to himself and walked inside as the boy played.
Terin watched as the group of gnomes entered the yard, hardly able to move as fear overcame him. The leader, a tall gnome with wild eyes, grabbed his up before he even had time to yell for help, and carried him away.
The gnomish camp was nothing more then a cluster of rudimentary tents surrounding what looked like a master tent. Terin was brought to a small tent, with a large fence surrounding it. There were many small creatures running around, that he assumed were the children. The gnome who was holding him put him down inside the gate and left. Terin had no idea why he was being put with a bunch of scrawny gnomish children. Suddenly, he was tackled by a whole group of the little brats and he was soon involved in a giant wrestling match. In the next several days, he befriended a lot of the children, and was found to be there "leader", or Brona, as the children chanted when he lead then in circles around the small tent. This euphoria was ended, however, when Rans came to rescue Terin. He slaughtered the whole encampment, including the children. When Terin saw this happen, he was outraged. "How could you?!!!!" He demanded. "Terin, look-", "I am not Terin. My name is Brona!" Screamed the boy in outrage. "What? Why would you want such a disgusting gnomish name?" Rans quickly retorted. "Because its better then anything you could give me!" And with that, Brona stalked off to his small room.
The argument between the two lasted several weeks, and although Brona pretended to get along with Rans, he refused to go on any gnome hunts and was still outraged by the actions of his foster father. As the years passed, Brona continued to grow, physically, as well as his hatred for the dwarf. The dwarven ways did not suit Brona, always so dirty, and uneducated. He was forced to do too much physical labor too his liking. Dwarves believed in hand to hand combat over all else and distrusted magic and the like. Brona, however, was fascinated by the magic in an ancient book of faerie tales about the lost race of faerie and their ancient magics. He promised himself he would someday learn such things and use them to help the world. What fascinated Brona even more, however, were the tales of the demons, enemies of the faerie. They, too possessed magic, but of a different sort. They could kill with the blink of an eye, but even better, damn someone to eons of relentless suffering. Brona fantasized about doing such tortures to Rans, but shivered at the thought of being so cruel.
"Now, boy, I want you to carry this lumber back home and then chop it for firewood, you hear me?" Rans commanded. "Why? I was going to read some-" Brona tried to reply, "Listen to me, boy, I don't want you reading anymore. Those books are bad, and they are going to stop you from doing honest work. Your living with a dwarf, not humans. You should learn to act like one. If I hadn't rescued you from that plague ridden village, you would be dead like you good for nothing parents. They were not even strong enough to raise a son-" "THEY HAD THE DISEASE, THEY WERE NOT WEAK-" Brona screamed back. "YOU LISTEN TO ME, BOY, THEY WERE WEAK ENOUGH TO CATCH THE DISEASE, BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T DO ENOUGH HONEST WORK. Dwarves are immune to the disease, for just that reason. Now it would be good for you to take back this wood, chop it up, and go to bed, with no supper." Brona stormed away with the wood.
The small flame was just enough to show the tears on Brona's cheeks. He took out the letter and read it for the hundredth time,
To my dearest son, I am sorry I can not be here for you, but if you remain here, you will surely die. I love you so much, as does you father. I want you to know, although you must never tell anyone, that your grandfather was a druid, and he came to our village to try to save your father, and caught the disease himself. He was alive to see you born however, and saw a great future for you. You will be great, my son, for either good or evil, as he said. Please be not evil, and let your heart be light. My son, if you wish to be a druid, go to their council at Paranor and talk to the high druid, and tell him your grandfather was Rendlarion. You must study hard and you will succeed. Something you must not speak of, however, is your magic ability. You grandfather was the descendent of an elven magician, who was believed to have the magic of the faerie running in his blood. Your grandfather fears you may also have this magic. DO NOT USE IT!!!!! Or else darkness will follow.
Love always, and good luck,
Your loving mother,
Kaelin Starlin
Brona could barely hold back tears. How dare that idiot dwarf insult his beloved mother. Why did they have to die to leave me with this fool? Brona asked himself. Someday Rans would pay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Brona, when do you want the attack to take place?" Asked Gengon, a gnomish leader. "As soon as we are ready, my dear Gengon, As soon as we are ready." So the strike team was assembled, and they were prepared to strike at Brona's command. Brona was now a striking young man of fifteen, with the same blue-black hair, and emerald eyes, as well as a handsome face that would make most girls giggle with delight. He had been leading groups of gnomes in rebellions and the like for the last several years, and he was now ready for his final act. He still lived with Rans, although they rarely spoke any more. He was out of the house a lot, in preparation for this final battle. He was going to kill his foster father. Brona grinned at this, though there was fear in his eyes. He had never actually outright killed someone, and he did not know whether this was right. He looked at the gnome commander and nodded. The team was ready to commence.
Rans was preparing dinner in his home, hoping Terin would be back in time for the meal. He had seemed so distant in the past several years, never home, never talking to Rans, and always insisting on being called Brona. But Rans did not anticipate he would ever rebel against him, or even consort with gnomes. It was too late however, when the small strike force entered the cabin.
The first attack was swift, and it was meant to immobilize Rans, so Brona could enter and kill him. It succeeded almost too well, and Rans was starring up into those green eyes before he even knew it. His hands were chopped off, and his legs tied painfully together. "So, father, you finally see what you put me through. You killed my only friends, with the blink of an eye. Not even a though about how it was wrong. Then you went on to more countless slaughter and ignored me. I am not a dwarf. I do not have the savage instinct to kill all weaker then me. You deserve this. Goodbye, father. I never loved you, you know." The ice in Brona's voice could have frozen a million raindrops, and with that, he plunged a ice-blue shortsword into Rans's chest, and his first step was complete.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The damp coolness of the deep forest was dark and gloomy as Brona lay curled in a ball sobbing. I killed him. I thrust this sword into his chest and life ebbed from his body. He didn't even do anything wrong. He simply was not like me, so I killed him. I could have left, and he would not have cared, but no I had to kill him. I will never work with gnomes again, the stupid creatures.. Brona was in a desperate state, not knowing what to do. He had taken with him only what he needed, some food, a change of clothes, and his letter. His mother had told him not to be evil and he had disregarded her. His sobs continued until he slowly fell asleep in the forest.
Ok, here is my attempt at recreating his desperate struggle between good and evil. Please R&R, I have a pretty good idea of what should happen the next chapter, but I will take recommendations. Thanks for trying this out.
OK, Sorry everyone if this sucks, but please Review, and tell me so!!!! If you disagree with something, then please tell me, so I can add it. I am trying my best to get everything accurate as possible. I will also try to update frequently. (Hopefully, this will go through :S)
Thank you soooo much!!!
___________________________________________
An icy cold wind ripped the desolate village and Kaelin pulled her cloak tighter around her, as she greeted her newborn son for the first time. His face was round and happy, like that of any baby. He had a few wisps of black hair on the very top of his head. His eyes were a deep forest green, like his fathers. He has my nose, Kaelin thought. But he looks like his father. She smiled down at her son. But there was a sadness in her eyes. Without her husband, Jendar, to support them, she would not be able to care for her son. She knew that with the disease that had killed her dearest Jendar, the village was unsafe. Half of the people had died already, so it was likely Kaelin could have the disease. She had to protect her son, save him from this tragedy. "I am sorry, but I must send you away. You don't even have a name yet, poor thing. I guess I shall call you Terin, after your grandfather. Goodbye, my son." Spoke Kaelin, with much remorse. She placed him in a small basket and placed a letter in his hand, and gave him to the dwarven trader. "Please make sure he finds a good home," Kaelin almost pleaded. "I will do my best," came the almost uncaring response. With all the disease and turmoil, the trader could hardly worry about the life of one small child. However, the trader had a good heart, and could not force himself to leave the child behind. He would drop him at the next village though, he promised himself.
However, the next village was just as destroyed as the last, so there was nowhere to leave the child. And the village after that was the same way. Even some major cities, such as Taraford, were overcome too. There was nowhere left, so the trader decided to return home. There was however, the problem of the child. Rans, which was the trader's name, was a dwarf, who lived in the dwarven lands, where the plague had yet to hit. He sighed. It seemed to be dying down, and a new city was even being founded in the border lands for the survivors. Although it would be more profitable to trade with the new town, called Tyrsis, Rans pitied the humans in the plague ridden towns, so he occasionally brought them food and supplies. As a dwarf, he seemed to be immune to the disease, so he was not at danger. Maybe, on his next trip he could bring the child back to Tyrsis, where people might be more willing to accept a child.
It was two days of wailing and crying later, that Rans reached his home in Ravenshorn Mountains, and he was already regretting taking the child. He was a trader, not a parent. He had never married for this reason, and now he had a child to take care of all alone. His small hut was on the outside of a small dwarven village. It was small, although very homey. He had a small kitchen, with a fire almost always going in the hearth, and some stew always filled the house with rich aroma. There was a living room, with a very cramped sort of feel, and a small bedroom. Rans supposed he would keep the child in the living room. With a sigh, he entered his house, and his life changed forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The small boy ran, toy sword in hand, chasing after imaginary gnomes. His unruly blue black hair whipped through the wind, and his emerald green eyes were alight with excitement. Rans sighed as he realized that the boy would soon be restless with his imaginary foes, and would search to fight real ones, like Rans himself did. It had been six years since Rans had taken the child in, and he still had yet to try to find him a new home. As it seems, Rans had become very fond of the boy, who had the hardy stubbornness of a dwarf. He had even given up trading, so he would not have to leave home. They know lived in a small dwelling right near the gnomish lands, where Rans now hunted gnomes for a trade. He was given compensation for every gnome head he brought to the dwarven King, and he was able to live with little interference from people. He laughed softly to himself and walked inside as the boy played.
Terin watched as the group of gnomes entered the yard, hardly able to move as fear overcame him. The leader, a tall gnome with wild eyes, grabbed his up before he even had time to yell for help, and carried him away.
The gnomish camp was nothing more then a cluster of rudimentary tents surrounding what looked like a master tent. Terin was brought to a small tent, with a large fence surrounding it. There were many small creatures running around, that he assumed were the children. The gnome who was holding him put him down inside the gate and left. Terin had no idea why he was being put with a bunch of scrawny gnomish children. Suddenly, he was tackled by a whole group of the little brats and he was soon involved in a giant wrestling match. In the next several days, he befriended a lot of the children, and was found to be there "leader", or Brona, as the children chanted when he lead then in circles around the small tent. This euphoria was ended, however, when Rans came to rescue Terin. He slaughtered the whole encampment, including the children. When Terin saw this happen, he was outraged. "How could you?!!!!" He demanded. "Terin, look-", "I am not Terin. My name is Brona!" Screamed the boy in outrage. "What? Why would you want such a disgusting gnomish name?" Rans quickly retorted. "Because its better then anything you could give me!" And with that, Brona stalked off to his small room.
The argument between the two lasted several weeks, and although Brona pretended to get along with Rans, he refused to go on any gnome hunts and was still outraged by the actions of his foster father. As the years passed, Brona continued to grow, physically, as well as his hatred for the dwarf. The dwarven ways did not suit Brona, always so dirty, and uneducated. He was forced to do too much physical labor too his liking. Dwarves believed in hand to hand combat over all else and distrusted magic and the like. Brona, however, was fascinated by the magic in an ancient book of faerie tales about the lost race of faerie and their ancient magics. He promised himself he would someday learn such things and use them to help the world. What fascinated Brona even more, however, were the tales of the demons, enemies of the faerie. They, too possessed magic, but of a different sort. They could kill with the blink of an eye, but even better, damn someone to eons of relentless suffering. Brona fantasized about doing such tortures to Rans, but shivered at the thought of being so cruel.
"Now, boy, I want you to carry this lumber back home and then chop it for firewood, you hear me?" Rans commanded. "Why? I was going to read some-" Brona tried to reply, "Listen to me, boy, I don't want you reading anymore. Those books are bad, and they are going to stop you from doing honest work. Your living with a dwarf, not humans. You should learn to act like one. If I hadn't rescued you from that plague ridden village, you would be dead like you good for nothing parents. They were not even strong enough to raise a son-" "THEY HAD THE DISEASE, THEY WERE NOT WEAK-" Brona screamed back. "YOU LISTEN TO ME, BOY, THEY WERE WEAK ENOUGH TO CATCH THE DISEASE, BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T DO ENOUGH HONEST WORK. Dwarves are immune to the disease, for just that reason. Now it would be good for you to take back this wood, chop it up, and go to bed, with no supper." Brona stormed away with the wood.
The small flame was just enough to show the tears on Brona's cheeks. He took out the letter and read it for the hundredth time,
To my dearest son, I am sorry I can not be here for you, but if you remain here, you will surely die. I love you so much, as does you father. I want you to know, although you must never tell anyone, that your grandfather was a druid, and he came to our village to try to save your father, and caught the disease himself. He was alive to see you born however, and saw a great future for you. You will be great, my son, for either good or evil, as he said. Please be not evil, and let your heart be light. My son, if you wish to be a druid, go to their council at Paranor and talk to the high druid, and tell him your grandfather was Rendlarion. You must study hard and you will succeed. Something you must not speak of, however, is your magic ability. You grandfather was the descendent of an elven magician, who was believed to have the magic of the faerie running in his blood. Your grandfather fears you may also have this magic. DO NOT USE IT!!!!! Or else darkness will follow.
Love always, and good luck,
Your loving mother,
Kaelin Starlin
Brona could barely hold back tears. How dare that idiot dwarf insult his beloved mother. Why did they have to die to leave me with this fool? Brona asked himself. Someday Rans would pay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Brona, when do you want the attack to take place?" Asked Gengon, a gnomish leader. "As soon as we are ready, my dear Gengon, As soon as we are ready." So the strike team was assembled, and they were prepared to strike at Brona's command. Brona was now a striking young man of fifteen, with the same blue-black hair, and emerald eyes, as well as a handsome face that would make most girls giggle with delight. He had been leading groups of gnomes in rebellions and the like for the last several years, and he was now ready for his final act. He still lived with Rans, although they rarely spoke any more. He was out of the house a lot, in preparation for this final battle. He was going to kill his foster father. Brona grinned at this, though there was fear in his eyes. He had never actually outright killed someone, and he did not know whether this was right. He looked at the gnome commander and nodded. The team was ready to commence.
Rans was preparing dinner in his home, hoping Terin would be back in time for the meal. He had seemed so distant in the past several years, never home, never talking to Rans, and always insisting on being called Brona. But Rans did not anticipate he would ever rebel against him, or even consort with gnomes. It was too late however, when the small strike force entered the cabin.
The first attack was swift, and it was meant to immobilize Rans, so Brona could enter and kill him. It succeeded almost too well, and Rans was starring up into those green eyes before he even knew it. His hands were chopped off, and his legs tied painfully together. "So, father, you finally see what you put me through. You killed my only friends, with the blink of an eye. Not even a though about how it was wrong. Then you went on to more countless slaughter and ignored me. I am not a dwarf. I do not have the savage instinct to kill all weaker then me. You deserve this. Goodbye, father. I never loved you, you know." The ice in Brona's voice could have frozen a million raindrops, and with that, he plunged a ice-blue shortsword into Rans's chest, and his first step was complete.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The damp coolness of the deep forest was dark and gloomy as Brona lay curled in a ball sobbing. I killed him. I thrust this sword into his chest and life ebbed from his body. He didn't even do anything wrong. He simply was not like me, so I killed him. I could have left, and he would not have cared, but no I had to kill him. I will never work with gnomes again, the stupid creatures.. Brona was in a desperate state, not knowing what to do. He had taken with him only what he needed, some food, a change of clothes, and his letter. His mother had told him not to be evil and he had disregarded her. His sobs continued until he slowly fell asleep in the forest.
Ok, here is my attempt at recreating his desperate struggle between good and evil. Please R&R, I have a pretty good idea of what should happen the next chapter, but I will take recommendations. Thanks for trying this out.