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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Fantasy · #1450697
This is the first chapter in my Book-in-the-making, Arthas.
Chapter 1
Arthas

In the woods of Orridan Village, at the base of a range of mountains called Fynshire’s Edge, is a young man. This young man is sixteen years old. Arthas is his name. His hair touched the tip of the bottom of his neck; the front was long enough to touch his upper lip. His hair was dark brown, and slightly curly. Arthas’s deep, mud-brown eyes gleamed, a drop of sweat ran down his nose, and his bow was held straight and tight. He took an arrow out of his leather quiver, set it in position, and pulled the string and arrow back.
He had seen a white buck while walking by the edge of the woods. A white buck! The antlers of the beast were perfectly symmetrical, milky white, and looked perfectly smooth. The coat on this deer was flawless, without a dot, without a spec of dirt. Even the hooves and his ankles were spotless! His eyes were as black as a starless night sky, with a black muzzle. What made the buck even stranger was that his body glimmered with a white light. It was almost as if it were a ghost!
Arthas squatted and pointed the arrow very slowly through a space in between the two bushes he hid behind. Doewood, , the woods by his village, was heavily forested with coniferous trees and bushes. In the summertime, Doewood grew dark and rich in color. The green became greener, and the dirt seemed darker.
A drop of sweat dripped off his nose. He let the arrow soar, but before the arrow hit the buck, something knocked him onto his back and everything flashed white; His surroundings were completely different. Arthas knew he wasn’t in Doewood for sure.
Arthas found himself on the ground, with his lower back laying on something hard. He blinked several times to clear his vision, but it was not a pretty sight when he reacquired it. No, in fact he had wished his vision did not recover. For his boss’s face was over him, scowling. He was obviously in a dream, and his boss woke him up. At least he now knew where he was. Inside the stable which he worked in, and he fell asleep on a chair. How did he know this? First, the place reeked of horse. Second, his boss was with him.
The stable formed an octagon, with a thatch roof and wooden beams that faded grey long ago. Two crooked doorways with matching doors (strangely), faced each other. A catch had been bolted just lately to replace the old ones. The floor, as should any structure that houses livestock, had hay and dry grass spread across it.
“Rise and shine stable boy! We got work to do!” His boss gave a sarcastic smile as he spoke. He twirled his knotted, black beard, and then poured a wooden pale of water over Arthas.
When the water made impact, a cold sensation rushed from head-to-shoulder. Water rushed up his nose, therefore waking him up completely. He scrambled onto his feet, shivering and blowing his nose, attempting to get the water out of his nose. It was late fall in Orridan Village, the last few as predicted by the village astronomer, who in fact had a reputation of being right about seasons. Cold winds often blew during it, as should every late fall do. “I’m up! I’m up!” He had a sudden rush of goose bumps and his shirt and pants dripped. “What do you want me to do today, Welv?”
Welv was his boss’s name, and it was to be respected when talking about him or his horses. He was a stout man with a very strong, iron fist that helped keep his job and control of his horses. Welv was in his late forties, with a black, (often not brushed) beard, and was completely bald. His nose was thick, and a large scar from falling off a horse ran across it. He often wore a worn-out, woolen vest, and a pair of thin leather pants. Welv picked the chair up and then bent over to get a bucket. He held the bucket out to Arthas and grinned. “Do you know what today is, stable boy?” Welv sounded excited, and he wasn’t excited often unless it had to do with lots of money.
“No.” Arthas tried to act nice and gentle like a servant would.
“ ‘Tis horse carriage day!” Welv spread his arms out.
“Really?” Arthas scratched the back of his head and yawned. “Already?” Horse carriage day was the day when many horses would be sold to pull a carriage or something related to it. This day was a few days before the Winter Festival. The Festival would buy new horses for their cargo, since often their previous horses by the time they get to Orridan were old and weak. In other words, Money Day for Welv.
“Wash those horses! We want them to look their best when we sell them!” Welv handed him the bucket, which was full of water mixed with soap and a wash cloth in it. “Get to work!”
“Yes sir, right away!” He quickly, but carefully, paced over to stable one and began from there.
The horses were calm that day because they knew Arthas. They trusted him, and Arthas trusted them. But there was one horse he liked the most. This horse was in stable 12, the last one. Its name, Phantom. His coat was a good mixture of brown and chestnut, and Phantom was a little smaller, but more nimble than the other horses. He was also shy of other humans other than Arthas. He was a close friend of Arthas.
After he was done, the first customer came in with an eager look on his face. This man looked rich and fancy by his slick hair and business coat. Even though the man had to be one from the Festival, he dressed quite nicely. Welv shook his hand, and began his barter over the largest horse, Rict. “Ten pieces of silver.” Said the man in the coat.
“Five pieces of gold and I’ll give you not only the horse but also a harness and an extra sack of horse feed.” Welv unfolded a piece of paper with a long inscription on it. “Sign here, here, and here.” He said, setting the paper on a wooden table that was set in the middle of the stable. The man took dipped the quill that was on the table into the ink bottle and signed the paper. “Alright you have my horse. Now let me have the money.” Welv gestured the man in the coat for it.
The man in the coat took a little sack out of his pocket and poured five gold coins into the palm of Welv’s hand. “There.” He said plainly.
Welv unlocked the stable to Rict and put the harness on him. He handed him Rict and the large sack of horse feed, and the man and Rict were soon out of sight.
All day horses were sold to rich-looking people. Welv got the better side of the deals, and had enough money by the end of the day to buy him new horses to fill the stable. It was all thanks to the customers. Every horse was sold. Every horse, except for Phantom. He was a bit smaller than the average horse, therefore was judged and fell into the ‘worthless’ category. But Arthas was glad. He did not lose his favorite horse.
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After sundown, Welv blew the torches out and said good night. He also paid him two pieces of gold, enough for Arthas to buy a week’s supply of food. Arthas said good-bye to Phantom and Welv, and walked towards his cabin.
All Arthas had for a light was a small torch, so he could see very dimly. Suddenly, thunder was heard, and quickly, rain began to pour from the sky. This put his torch out, and only the dark could be seen.
Arthas walked through the muddy ground, and soon large amounts of mud clung to the sole of his shoes. The outline of his house could be seen. He was close. The rain became heavier and heavier, until it seemed like water being poured onto you from a bucket. When he made it to his doorstep, he shook his hair and most of the water was out. “I hate the weather; can’t even have a pleasant walk home.” He grumbled, and stepped inside his house. Arthas took a candle and some heavy liquor from the cabinet, and then put some firewood in the fireplace. He soaked the wood with the liquor, but still had some left. He held the candle in the right position, backed away from the fireplace, then threw it in. The fireplace exploded with fire, but did not reach outside the fireplace. The wood burned well, and the heat of the fire could be felt from where Arthas was standing. It was Arthas’s way of lighting fires. It was simple, but not that easy. When he first tried it out, he burned most of his arm hairs off. “Fire.” He sat down for a few moments, embracing the cozy warmth of the fire. “Finally.” Arthas set his clothes out to dry and walked down the hall to check on his adoptive father, Magni.
Arthas never knew his parents, nor did anyone else. Magni had said he had found him on the ground near the cabin. It was raining, and it was about to get worse. Magni had said he heard him cry, and ran out the door, trying to find whoever was crying. Thus, he found Arthas.
When he walked through his bare door frame, he found Magni asleep on his chair with a halfway done shield on his lap. I wonder if he was worried about me.... He thought.
He silently walked over to the fire and sat down on a chair in front of it. The flames were so fast. Arthas stared at them, and the flames seemed to become shapes. Very random shapes. But as every second passed by, they became more and more clear. They soon looked like almost raindrops, horns, and many other shapes. Before he fell asleep, Arthas remembered one last image. It looked like a round chunk of coal was on fire. A black oval on fire.
© Copyright 2008 Will Minor (skatewolf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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