Author's Note: I'm re-casting this story, so if you read it, please read it
all the way through. I've worked so hard on this one and it means a lot to
me if you review.
[Once upon a time, there was someone with nothing to lose.]
The bet was simple.
Seven boys taunted their victim with it, a girl their age with a crippled arm. She set her brown eyes, which now held so much fire, upon each of them in turn as they circled her. Her fists clenched into knots, but the boys continued to whisper at her, "So can you?"
"Of course I can!" she spat back, knowing it was not true. Then prove it, they said. She walked up to one of them and pulled back her right arm, the one that did not work. They fell silent.
They were all watching to see if she could do it, if she could throw a punch with her right am, the one that she normally kept at her side as if that would make it invisible. The alleyway was dim and shadowed; with any light it had fading fast. The ambiance was that of a funeral that the group of children had broken into without being asked. All Kaderayna had wanted was to play with them! But it was not so easy. They bet her that she couldn't decently hit someone with her right arm, and she knew in the first place that she couldn't. Her sister Éowyn had been teaching her various forms of weaponry; the sword, the knife, mainly. She had been learning the bow until her arm . . .
The same thing had happened yesterday. The same bet, the same base line. It had been scarier for Kaderayna then, however. She had felt much smaller and much more vulnerable. Luckily, her godfather, Aragorn II, had stepped in and stopped the boys from making fun of her. She had been very thankful as he told off the boys she had tried to make friends with and scooped her into his arms. Being the goddaughter to the King of Gondor was worth something, after all. But it didn't look like Aragorn was going to show up today.
"Go, already!" someone shouted. Kaderayna took a deep breath and concentrated on making her arm fly towards the boy's face. The weight of the action made her not only miss the boy completely, but topple to the ground in a hasty spin. Her tangle of dirty blonde hair came down over her shoulders and face, looking very much like some sort of grotesque hat.
The boys laughed. Kaderayna felt ready to cry. Now for the rest of the bet . . . Kaderayna wished that she hadn't left the house today, she wished that she had stayed with her sister in the kitchen . . . one of the boys reached into his oversized coat . . . Kaderayna pulled her hair out of her face. Maybe her sister would come now and chase away the boys she had wanted to be friends with . . . without further ado, a full wine bottle was handed to Kaderayna. Each of the boys had a nasty, evil sort of grin on his face. "For you," one said.
~ ten years later ~
"Give me another one."
The bar was musty, as if hadn't been cleaned in a few decades and the dim lights were feeble attempts to hide all of the grime. Kaderayna Santavaj sat in the middle of it all, sloppily slouched over a bar stool and surrounded by empty wine glasses, a few of them broken.
"Kad, you've had too many. How about you go home for the night, get some sleep?"
Kaderayna did her best to look menacingly at the bartender. "I said, give me another one."
The bartender sighed and poured another glass of wine for Kaderayna. She downed it and held out her hand for another.
"Sorry, honey, but this is where I put my foot down. You've had too much to drink tonight."
"Fool! I'm gonna punch your bloody face in!" she drunkenly yelled, reaching for the wine jug. Several of the empty glasses got knocked onto the floor where they shattered. The bartender didn't stop her, but he didn't help her any either. She sat back down on the stool with her prize, then glared up at the bartender.
"I'm not staying in this place," she slurred, and stumbled off the bar stool. "Can't get a person decently drunk," she said, tripping out into the pouring rain.
Outside, Kaderayna wandered into the shelter of an alley and paced in zigzags that come from too much alcohol. Every swig of the cheap wine drowned her in blissful ignorance. She was sinking fast.
A creep looking for easy rape grabbed her shoulder. She didn't see his face, know who he was, or even care. She didn't bother. He could have been anyone, even her sister, but Kaderayna pulled out her knife and slit his throat, just like that. No questions, no answers, no explanations. Kaderayna didn't want any of those.
She kicked aside his body and continued to pace. She ran into a wall, a window, a horse. Finally Kaderayna took her last gulp of the sweet forgetfulness and sprawled out in a puddle. The rain continued to rage, but she didn't hear it, or feel it for that matter. She didn't want to.
The next morning a friend of her sister's found her, still in the puddle, amazed she didn't drown. He had been running an errand to get more flour for the bakery he owned and had tripped over her, then recognized her face.
It was that of a skeleton's, as was the rest of her, with unkempt dirty blond hair sticking to her cheeks with rain from the previous night. Her dress was fashionable, but wet and muddy. The baker sighed. Éowyn would not be pleased.
END AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you read this far, then I have to ask you two favors. The first is that you review, and tell me your thoughts on my story, in particular what I could do to make it better. The second is that you come back to this story. Thank you for reading.
[Once upon a time, there was someone with nothing to lose.]
The bet was simple.
Seven boys taunted their victim with it, a girl their age with a crippled arm. She set her brown eyes, which now held so much fire, upon each of them in turn as they circled her. Her fists clenched into knots, but the boys continued to whisper at her, "So can you?"
"Of course I can!" she spat back, knowing it was not true. Then prove it, they said. She walked up to one of them and pulled back her right arm, the one that did not work. They fell silent.
They were all watching to see if she could do it, if she could throw a punch with her right am, the one that she normally kept at her side as if that would make it invisible. The alleyway was dim and shadowed; with any light it had fading fast. The ambiance was that of a funeral that the group of children had broken into without being asked. All Kaderayna had wanted was to play with them! But it was not so easy. They bet her that she couldn't decently hit someone with her right arm, and she knew in the first place that she couldn't. Her sister Éowyn had been teaching her various forms of weaponry; the sword, the knife, mainly. She had been learning the bow until her arm . . .
The same thing had happened yesterday. The same bet, the same base line. It had been scarier for Kaderayna then, however. She had felt much smaller and much more vulnerable. Luckily, her godfather, Aragorn II, had stepped in and stopped the boys from making fun of her. She had been very thankful as he told off the boys she had tried to make friends with and scooped her into his arms. Being the goddaughter to the King of Gondor was worth something, after all. But it didn't look like Aragorn was going to show up today.
"Go, already!" someone shouted. Kaderayna took a deep breath and concentrated on making her arm fly towards the boy's face. The weight of the action made her not only miss the boy completely, but topple to the ground in a hasty spin. Her tangle of dirty blonde hair came down over her shoulders and face, looking very much like some sort of grotesque hat.
The boys laughed. Kaderayna felt ready to cry. Now for the rest of the bet . . . Kaderayna wished that she hadn't left the house today, she wished that she had stayed with her sister in the kitchen . . . one of the boys reached into his oversized coat . . . Kaderayna pulled her hair out of her face. Maybe her sister would come now and chase away the boys she had wanted to be friends with . . . without further ado, a full wine bottle was handed to Kaderayna. Each of the boys had a nasty, evil sort of grin on his face. "For you," one said.
~ ten years later ~
"Give me another one."
The bar was musty, as if hadn't been cleaned in a few decades and the dim lights were feeble attempts to hide all of the grime. Kaderayna Santavaj sat in the middle of it all, sloppily slouched over a bar stool and surrounded by empty wine glasses, a few of them broken.
"Kad, you've had too many. How about you go home for the night, get some sleep?"
Kaderayna did her best to look menacingly at the bartender. "I said, give me another one."
The bartender sighed and poured another glass of wine for Kaderayna. She downed it and held out her hand for another.
"Sorry, honey, but this is where I put my foot down. You've had too much to drink tonight."
"Fool! I'm gonna punch your bloody face in!" she drunkenly yelled, reaching for the wine jug. Several of the empty glasses got knocked onto the floor where they shattered. The bartender didn't stop her, but he didn't help her any either. She sat back down on the stool with her prize, then glared up at the bartender.
"I'm not staying in this place," she slurred, and stumbled off the bar stool. "Can't get a person decently drunk," she said, tripping out into the pouring rain.
Outside, Kaderayna wandered into the shelter of an alley and paced in zigzags that come from too much alcohol. Every swig of the cheap wine drowned her in blissful ignorance. She was sinking fast.
A creep looking for easy rape grabbed her shoulder. She didn't see his face, know who he was, or even care. She didn't bother. He could have been anyone, even her sister, but Kaderayna pulled out her knife and slit his throat, just like that. No questions, no answers, no explanations. Kaderayna didn't want any of those.
She kicked aside his body and continued to pace. She ran into a wall, a window, a horse. Finally Kaderayna took her last gulp of the sweet forgetfulness and sprawled out in a puddle. The rain continued to rage, but she didn't hear it, or feel it for that matter. She didn't want to.
The next morning a friend of her sister's found her, still in the puddle, amazed she didn't drown. He had been running an errand to get more flour for the bakery he owned and had tripped over her, then recognized her face.
It was that of a skeleton's, as was the rest of her, with unkempt dirty blond hair sticking to her cheeks with rain from the previous night. Her dress was fashionable, but wet and muddy. The baker sighed. Éowyn would not be pleased.
END AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you read this far, then I have to ask you two favors. The first is that you review, and tell me your thoughts on my story, in particular what I could do to make it better. The second is that you come back to this story. Thank you for reading.