Chapter 2

Chapter 2:
The “Preparation”

   Rain was pouring down on the straw roof of the stone cottage. Lighting struck, while thunder announced it with cracks and booms.

   Vill opened his eyes quickly without moving any other part of his body. He felt gloomy about the day, (probably because it was raining). He slowly rose, trying not to do anything but actions, (meaning he didn't want to think.) He then smelled something, something that he loved to smell: cheesy potato soup, with buttered crusty bread on the side. He saw his mother cooking supper, which seemed like it would taste better now than it had ever tasted before, (because if you are sick, everything tastes better.)

   “I’m glad you’re up, because I have something to treat that fever of yours.” She then took the big brass pot that the soup cooked in, and with Vill’s help, she slowly lowered it onto the oaken table. She then took the loaf of bread, broke it in two, and put one half on each wooden slate that was on the table; she poured water from a plain old pitcher, into the two wooden mugs present. Supper seemed ready, so they began.

   Vill was without a doubt, stuffed; his mother though, seemed to have been full before the meal had begun. This was no problem for Vill, as he had helped himself to the portions that his mother had interestingly refused.

   “Well, I best be out to work,” said Vill when the meal was finished. “There is a cold breeze coming, and though it is in the middle of summer, we shouldn't be caught off guard. The seasons are unpredictable.”

   “Well, okay. But don’t work too hard; that fever of yours is to be taken seriously.” Vill nodded, and headed to the barn, where he took an armful of logs from the corner. He took them just outside the barn, and dumped them right beside the stump that was used as a chopping block.

   The sun had just sneaked behind the Great Bluffs, causing pink to streak across the blue sky. Vill knew it would be pitch black soon and there could be some wolves out at that time. Not like the vargs of the Great Bluffs, but common wolves of very little intellect. Still, they were very dangerous, and that danger should be respected. Vill quickly split the logs. He raised axe… and swung it down; it made a split halfway down the log. Vill was extremely disappointed; his strength seemed only that of a small child! He took the axe that was embedded halfway into the log, and hit it against the stump; the halves separated. Vill tried again; he took another log and placed it on the stump. This time, he made his mechanics faster, stronger, and smoother. He swung it down; it split three quarters down the log. Vill was finished trying: this time, he would not try; he would “Do”. He was ready; he took a log, and placed it firmly on the stump. His arms were filled with a raging fire: “This time, we won’t disappoint you,” they seemed to say. Vill raised his axe for the death blow. He held it firm and swung it down at the log like a bolt of lightning. Not only did the axe thoroughly chop through the log, the halves went flying ten feet each way before landing.

   Vill did the same with all the other logs that he had done to the third log. Soon though, the time for chopping was over; the howling of wolves could be heard, and if one was not inside after hours, he was dead meat, literally! So Vill ran inside, thankful that he had a secure shelter.

   It was just then, that he remembered something: the cows were still tied up outside in the field! He felt so stupid to have forgotten them, during the time he was on himself. He thought it best to not tell his mother as she would be extremely upset and horrified. So he lit a torch that was stored in the barn, and headed out to the field.

   He got there just in time; the wolves were very close, perhaps just a good hundred yards away. Vill did not panic; he just calmly untied the ropes one by one, and let the cows run to the barn. (They were very frightened by the wolves’ howls.) Vill had to also admit, he was very frightened as well, maybe as much as the cows. But he chose not to panic, and to be calm.

   The wolves were even closer; Vill could see them running down the hill that was next to the one he was currently on. He then joined with the cows, running like a mad man. But something happened, that was very odd: Vill heard a howl, but this time, it came not from behind him, but ahead of him. Then another howl and another; it was then that Vill realized something: he was surrounded! He stopped dead in his tracks, not knowing what his next move should be. Then he saw the wolves, coming closer and closer, until he could see their white fangs, glistening in the moonlight. He was indeed surrounded, with very little chance of escape. So he thought quickly; all he had was a torch. Well, that was a start, as wolves prefer to avoid fire when possible. But would that stop their hunger? Vill thought some more; he only had a matter of seconds until the wolves made their next move. He had it; he took the torch, and slowly moved it towards the ground. The days lately, had been wet, except for the day present, which had been hot and dry. This made no difference to Vill, as he valued his life, as well as his mother’s. So he had no choice. Luck though, was on his side; the grass caught fire, and in a few moments, the ground was ablaze. The wolves turned and ran; they did not need to take the risk of burning, over a meal. Vill’s quickly thought of plan was a success. He quickly ran to the cottage, hoping his mother had discovered nothing of his own clumsiness of forgetting to bring in the cows before dark.

   He reached the house rather quickly, to find four cows, groaning restlessly into the night; his mother was present.

   “Well! These cows have done enough groaning for one day!” she exclaimed. “We best get them fed and off to bed. Same with me I suppose." She chuckled to herself and started towards the door.

   “You should be off to bed too,” she advised. Vill nodded in agreement, but said nothing. He and his mother headed to their beds, (after Vill had put the cows down for the night of course). Vill thought about the night, and hoped that the experience would be an assistant to his victory in the tournament. He closed his eyes, and slowly drifted into sleep.

   He woke up to the whistling of birds, and the cool morning air blowing in his face. He arose and continued his daily routine, but challenging himself more than usual. For example: after he was finished milking the cows, he took two buckets in each hand. He spilled one, but the other three made it to the kitchen safely. And when he took the cows out, he secured the stakes by using the dull end of his axe to hammer on them.

   The day was the same as usual, save the fact that the next day the tournament would take place. Vill had at first acted like the impossible had happened when he received the message, but now, he had calmed down. This was good, because Vill would have no victory in the tournament if he acted like he had just seen a ghost.

   Vill was now down by the river, fishing for breakfast, (and lunch.) He was very bored, since his catch was not so far succeeding; so he decided to think. He still had the message with him, written on the scroll in his pouch. He retrieved and opened it; the words sparkled in the sunlight, staring out at Vill. Vill studied the words slowly, hoping to find something that he had overlooked. And there it was: “You will immediately be transferred to the Warriors’ Guild if you succeed in winning the tournament.” Vill studied it again, and stared blankly once realizing something; if he won the tournament, then he would never see his mother again, just maybe on very rare occasions. This was a new barrier between Vill’s desire for glory, and a life with his mother. Vill would in the end have to decide what to choose; for his mother needed him to take cheese into town, and to catch fish for their meals. Vill knew not what to decide; he desired both.

   The day was ending, Vill had brought in the cows, (this time,) and the sun was setting behind the great bluffs. Vill’s heart was torn between his two desires: his mother, and glory. To make matters worse, Vill couldn’t stall anymore; he had to decide tomorrow, and that was soon.

   Vill was lying in bed when he made his decision; and tomorrow, it would be revealed.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

A Message

   It was a cool morning as the sun began to rise over the Sunrise Mountains. There was a steady breeze blowing about, and there was a light mist lingering in the air; the clouds were turning a light pink, and the sky was bright orange.

   The scene couldn't be better for Vill, who lived in a cottage on top of a hill amidst the Old Hills. He lived there with his mother, who made cheese for a living. And of course, since Vill was nineteen years of age, he transported and sold it.

   First thing in the morning, Vill would milk their four cows, and would carry the four full buckets, two at a time, into the cottage. Then he would hitch his donkey to a cart, and ride down to the river and catch enough fish for his breakfast.

   Meanwhile his mother would make cheese from the milk, and would store it in barrels. When Vill returned from the river during the afternoon, he would cook some more fish for lunch.

   After eating, Vill would load the barrels with cheese onto his cart and take it into Cath-Lenor, where he would sell it for a fair price. He would buy a loaf of bread and some chicken with the money he earned, and would then return to the cottage. He and his mother would eat, and enjoy the rest of the evening together. This was their market day routine.

   The same happened this morning. Vill woke up to the warm fire in the cottage’s sleeping room. He was a bit itchy from his straw mattress, and he was tired. All the same, he quietly rose from his bed, so as to not wake his mother. Then he headed to the door which led to the barn and entered. There sat four buckets; Vill took one, and set to work, squeezing and pulling down on the udders. First, he grabbed the two far teat, squeezed them, and pulled down multiple times. Then he did the closest ones, and after that, he took the cow out to a stake in the middle of the field, tied her to it, and let her graze. He did the same with the other cows until all four cows were in the field. Then he went up to the each of the poles, and made sure the ropes were secured. When he was satisfied, he returned to the barn. Vill grabbed two buckets, and carried them into the house, opening the door with his arm. He made his way quietly, unsure if his mother was asleep or not. Fortunately, she was in the kitchen, getting oatmeal ready.

   “Morning Vill,” she said. “Had a nice sleep I suppose?”

   “It was half an hour shorter than yours, so I would say you have won that prize,” Vill replied. His mother let out a light laugh.

   “Well, you better hitch up your donkey and head out,” advised his mother pausing her laughter for the moment.

   “True, true,” replied Vill. (Vill and his mother liked to talk like the very arrogant nobles that they’d met in the town.)

   Since Vill had a bit of time till he needed to head out to the river, he strolled out a short distance about twenty five yards from the cottage. He opened up his mouth and let the morning air fill his lungs. It was a bit chilly still, as the sun was not completely up; but everything was warm inside of him. The birds sung, mainly sparrows in these fields, but also the occasional robin. The day was greater than even the view from mount Azleworth, (which is a spectacular view, since the mountain is well over thirty thousand feet.) The beauty of the morning suddenly stopped at a light sound: “Bu du dump; bu du dump,” it went. Vill’s heart was uncertain if it was to take a great leap, or sink into his toes. The noise kept getting louder.

   “Bu du dump, bu du dump. BU DU DUMP! BU DU DUMP!” Then another noise came that went: “Clip clop clip clop, clip clop clip clop.” Vill’s brain paused for a moment, and then stopped dead in fear; the noises were made from a horse’s hooves. Vill knew of the raiders that blackmailed villagers to get gold. Vill thought only to run to the front of the cottage. He ran into the barn, (that was attached to the house,) and jerked the cottage door open. He then ran through the house to the front door. He looked out the window; there was no raider. The man with the horse was dressed in light chain mail with a green cloak. He had one of those almost flat helmets, like an archer’s, with iron studs around the bottom of the half bowl. He had a rich yellow beard, and he was just a bit on the large side. At his side was a fair broadsword, and strapped to his back, was a round wooden shield. He was, a messenger from Cath-Lenor. In his hand was a small scroll. He handed it Vill’s mother, who had seemed absent for a few seconds.

   “This is for your son,” said the messenger. He gave a charming smile, and then took off almost as soon as he had arrived. His mother watched him until he was over and down the first hill. She jumped at the sudden appearance of Vill. She turned and said, “Vill, this was addressed to you. It is from the warriors’ guild down in Cath-Lenor.”

   It was only on rare occasions that anyone but his majesty was addressed by the warriors’ guild. They had strong warriors that fought beasts from the Forsaken Forest, and goblins from the swamps. Vill stared in shock at the scroll. Finally though, he found the courage to open it. It was written in elaborate cursive with blue ink:

   Considering certain events, there is to be a tournament at the fairgrounds just north of the city of Cath-Lenor, just after the dawn of the day. You have been invited, since your twentieth birthday is nearly upon you. You have two days to prepare, counting the day you receive this.

   You will prepare by training yourself, not by providing yourself with equipment; we will provide everything you will need, save your skill and strength. You will immediately be transferred to the Warriors’ Guild if you succeed in winning the tournament.

P.S. Remember, this is an optional chance; it is your choice whether or not to compete in the tournament.

Signed:  Sir Loylen

   Vill stared blankly; he wasn’t sure what to think. All he thought to do was to stare into nothingness. For some reason, he wanted not to think, just to be quiet and do nothing. His mother broke the seemingly never-ending silence.

   “You look a bit pale,” she said. “Perhaps you would like some tea?” (Vill’s mother always knew the proper solution to sickness and discomfort. In this situation, Vill’s surprise may have made him feel light headed.)

   “I think I will,” said Vill who had nearly fallen down in sudden weakness. His mother caught him, and struggling to stay upward, she said, “Vill, I think you should sit down.” This was in no regular tone; it sounded like a very serious situation.

   She sat Vill down on one of their sofas, and then returned to the kitchen to make some tea. Mint tea; all that Vill could think about was tea. He loved the smell of tea; his mother was preparing it that instant, and it was all that kept Vill from falling from his place. The kettle of boiling water was whistling on the stove. Vill’s mother quickly cut up the tea leaves with her wrinkled but skilled hands; soon a bunch of little leaves were on a cutting board. She took a large mug and poured the hot water in it. Then she sprinkled in the tea leaves, stirring all the while. She ran out through the door that led to the barn; Vill was nearly back to his senses; “He was in his house…his mother was making him tea…it smells so good…” And then he came completely out of his daze: “If I desire, I’m in the knight tournament.”

   Vill had his tea and lay down on his straw mattress. He thought about his day; it was regular at first, but after a while took a great turn. He had been invited to a tournament for a new recruitment; he had a chance to become a warrior. He looked the letter over again; there it said it in blue ink: “You have been invited.” The words stared out at him like bulging eyes. He looked at the words, as if he was trying to make sure that they were real. Then he fell asleep; and the scroll fell onto his face.

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