When Luck Runs Out

About a mile up the road, Lindo drew upon a clearing where shopkeepers had set up booths to sell their wares out in plain sight. The sun had sunk low. Most booths were vacant or closed, but a potter, flower merchant, toymaker and component dealer for magic-users remained open. Lindo cared nothing for any of these. He'd spotted a lithe form. “Folco!” 

            His friend did not look, but the abrupt stiffness in his posture indicated he'd recognized the voice. His stride grew more brisk. Undeterred, Lindo repeated, “Folco!” The other hobbit’s cadence quickened again. Lindo hustled after him on his short legs the best he could. His friend, ever the epitome of Foxtrot stubbornness, sped up. He was not about to let his friend play that game with him now.

“Your Highness!” Lindo was not worried about using the title. He could easily pretend it was a private joke between the two because Folco was much taller than him if anyone looked askance. Besides, the people around them, presumably eager to get home to their families for dinner, seemed not to even notice.

            Folco, predictably, did. He froze, allowing Lindo to close the distance. When he was an arm’s length away, the prince fixed him with a cold glare. “Since when do you call me that?” he asked quietly.

            Unabashed, Lindo responded, “Since when do you only answer to your title from me?”

             “That is not amusing at all,” came Folco’s brusque reply after a long and tense moment.

            “I’m not known for being the class jester, nor am I exactly your family’s court jester,” said Lindo airily, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

            “Really?” said Folco, cocking an eyebrow. “Says who?”

            Lindo threw up his hands. “Says someone who does not want anything happening to you!”

             “Don’t you? Weren’t you just saying how you and everybody else thinks I’m a spoiled brat?”

            Lindo shifted his eyes away, spluttering. “That’s not what I said! I don’t think…” Perhaps his irate words might have suggested that to Folco, Lindo thought, but he knew the Foxtrot children weren’t exactly coddled and indulged despite who their parents were. He’d certainly been around enough to know that. They were stricter than most of their other classmates’ parents and made their staff be the same way toward the Foxtrot chidren. Folco had rarely been allowed to do anything his peers could. He would attribute it to Folco’s rank except it had been that way even before Folco’s father assumed the throne after the changeover from the Council. 

             “Or I’m incapable of doing anything myself?" The beginnings of renewed anger stirred within Lindo. He'd never said anything remotely close to that! "Oh, and can’t forget your throwing everything that’s happened in my face!” He crossed his arms, hands balling into fists.

            “I did nothing of the sort!” protested Lindo, stung by his friend’s accusations. Though he looked more like his mother with his slender build and narrow, delicate features, Folco bore a remarkable resemblance to his father in bearing, particularly when in an irrational mood. Tempted to point this out, Lindo’s mouth had opened to comment when reason overtook his feelings. He did not want to provoke an even rasher action than storming off by himself in the middle of a foreign city.

            Folco’s eyes darkened. He emitted a short, mirthless guffaw that resonated with bitterness. “You could go back to Drémeadow and your family anytime you want if your family hasn’t been killed or arrested because of mine. Sound familiar?” 

            Lindo yelped in frustration, “well, it’s true!” Folco flushed puce, but Lindo continued, “all they have to do is give the order to go after the families of everyone who left and they’re done for.“

            “How the blazes do you think it feels knowing that could happen?” Folco said venomously. “Did I ask to be part of my family? NO! Do you honestly believe…” Lindo’s eyes, shifting past the prince, fell upon a rough-looking group of humans, armed and menacing. The rest of Folco’s embittered sentence escaped his attention.  

             “Er… you may want to keep your voice down…” The last thing they needed was a bunch of ruffians twice their size figuring out his friend was someone important. Had he completely forgotten the importance of not calling attention to himself?

            “Did I ask to be where I am now?” Folco bitterly plunged on. “Did I choose my family? Did I-“

            Lindo half-heard Folco’s words, tinged with sorrow and frustration, but what he saw now superseded the conflict between them. “Folco, please…”

“Are you even listening to me?” demanded Folco. “Or are you too busy blaming me for everything?” 

             “It’s not that. Look,” he whispered, jerking his head over his friend’s shoulder. Fortunately, the suspicious characters seemed too interested in a potter’s venue to pay them heed. He doubted it was the pottery that had the men’s interest.

Folco turned his head and his forehead crinkled into a deep frown. He fidgeted slightly as brigands closed in on the woman selling pots. The mouth of the leader, who had grizzled brown hair, moved. A threatening expression was fixed upon a hardened, mustached face. The woman shook her head. He pointed at the moneybox. The merchant, predictably, refused again. Next to the bandit spokesperson, a particularly ill-favored one with a beard that could impress a dwarf gave his arm a shake. A dagger slipped out of his sleeve and into his hand before swiftly arcing to a spot barely an inch from the merchant’s nose. Lindo could not hear the words, but a brief gesture to the money-box with his crude knife said it all.

 Lindo’s hand went to his own belt where he usually kept his own dagger. That was when he remembered they were both unarmed. He swore under his breath. Nonetheless, he moved protectively in front of his friend, wishing he were taller so he could obscure the other hobbit from view.  In the distance, he could see one of the band indicating the hobbits. Another shrugged. The gang member ignored his comrade, leaning forward so that the dagger was barely an inch from the merchant’s face. 

“Oh, my,” the prince’s low, grim murmur came into his ear. “This can’t be good.”

Lindo would have laughed, had things not been so serious. That was just like Folco to understate the situation. “Curse our stupidity! We’ve left our weapons!” he hissed back by way of warning. If he knew Folco at all after fourteen years of friendship, he’d want to intervene and was definitely brash enough to try, weapons or no weapons. 

Folco, who was quaking from fear or rage, did not seem to hear him. He appeared fixated entirely on the scene of the woman, who was now rummaging under the counter, and the ruffians, whose faces were alight with savage glee. Don’t do anything… Lindo silently pleaded. For a long painful moment, Folco seemed to recognize that, horrible though he would feel not intervening in a crime happening right in front of him, it would be foolish to intervene.

Then it happened. The woman held her moneybox, a deep red one, aloft for the robber to take. The man with the dagger took it to pass to a comrade- then struck her in the arm so hard that Lindo could hear the impact from nearly a hundred yards away. Lindo jerked as though he’d been the one hit with the flat of the blade.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back with his friend’s restraint. “HOI!” Folco bellowed. “STOP IT!” Lindo’s palm went to his forehead.  The bandits looked their way in surprise before rushing at them. Folco and Lindo made to run towards the Duke’s but found their way blocked by thugs that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Lindo swore at his own inattention; he’d been so focused on the scene at the cooking ware merchant that he had not heard the approach of other brigands. “Folco!” he screamed in a mixture of fright and warning.

Folco, who’d already started for the booth, ducked out of reach of a bandit’s grasp and darted in a zigzag towards the merchant, who looked too terrified to move, until he found himself blocked by the one with the dagger. The other directions were blocked by either brigands, another booth, storage compartments the retailers kept by their booths to lock up merchandise at night, and a single brown-and-white boulder. The thieves spread out in a semicircle around him as the daggered one moved closer to Folco, point of the blade at his throat. He retreated backwards, eyes wide, until the back of his head struck the edge of the booth.

Lindo stepped in their direction, wishing he could do something. The bandits were trapping Folco between them and the merchant’s booth.  If only I had my bow and arrow- or even a dagger- or SOMETHING. Lindo's eyes desperately scanned the ground, hoping for a stick or smallstone, but to no avail. His blood froze in his veins. Their luck had run out.

 

Author's Note

This book is undergoing a massive revision process before I continue on from my most recent chapter, "Slip of the Tongue," told from the point-of-view of one of Kiran, Folco and the hobbit refugees' enemies. I am reordering some chapters, truncating or expanding others, combining still others, and giving them all a fresh proofread. Please drop any suggestions and comments you might have as my book undergoes this process. Any chapter not preceded by a number has not yet been touched.

Please give me any constructive criticism you can think of as well as comments on strengths you notice. I hope to be a published author one day, so I want this book and all of my books to become awesome and as close to perfect as is humanly possible.

Reviews

[A. H. Pinley]

Sighing, the paladin swiveled his head towards the dais. The Duke (0f what?) was in his usual spot at the center of the table overseeing the hall, occupied with issuing instructions to a servant carving a roast chicken. Beside him, his cupbearer was lowering a glass of wine to the table. Kiran tilted his head slightly in hopes that he would catch his lord’s eye. Around him, the hall was beginning to fill. Several times, a hobbit’s voice greeted him from waist height or below. Kiran mumbled a polite response to each refugee that addressed him, but he was in no mood for conversation.
You first mention the Duke's name in paragraph eight. I could be wrong about this, but if you're going to wait that long to give his name at least give the reader The Duke of ______? So far this read nice. I will finish in the morning.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Got it, adding in more comments on the Duke to the beginning of the chapter! Thank you!

[Mila]

Very nice, can't wait to read more!

[NoelHC]

Another well done chapter, the relationship between Lindo and Folco becomes clearer.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Glad to know it! =] Was hoping the extent of the friendship and the complications they encounter would show

[C. Rose]

It was pretty funny annotating around JJ's annotations.
I didn't realize that would happen.
Here you go: https://diigo.com/020c1o

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

On my end, it actually showred up in different colors! Thanks so much for taking the time to make those annotations for me. I'm trying to characterize Lindo as the cool logical one (though he does sometimes get befuddled by adolescent hormones and his emotions) and Folco as quite the headstrong hothead at times, though with a decent (though rather heavy lately given the rift between him and his family) heart. I'm glad I made Lindo's realizing he was being a bit of an idiot show through!

[jjwilbourne]

as said by others who commented. this was an awesome cliffhanger.
The execration of tension and conflict was only slowed by the flashback scenes.
Maybe it might flow better if you can fit the flashbacks at the beginning of the chapter instead?
Your markups are in the Alpha Readers Diigo group.
Excellent work!

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

What's diigo?

[jjwilbourne]

sorry. https://diigo.com/01zcis

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

It's okay, thanks so much! Hopefully I have time to check them out later tonight between shopping for my 4th of July party and racewalk training- just had 4 extra hours of work tossed atat me

[jjwilbourne]

ouch! good luck at work and hope the training goes well!

[Jennie Baron]

I was wondering if you had ambitions about publishing this, because it truly has possibilities. I don't have any criticisms, but I think your strength in this chapter is the vivid description of the action. Very, very well done. Having Lindo and Folco's argument suspended by the fight (presumably to be continued later) is a good device although they obviously have a strong friendship also.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Awwww, thank you so much! Yeah, Folco and Lindo are definitely close friends; they've had their share of rough/awkward patches and drama but the friendship's definitely a strong one when they aren't arguing over one thing or another.

I very much have ambitions about publication! I just need to come up with a different name for their race since "hobbit" is copyrighted. Besides, they have some subtle differences, the main one being the absence of hairy feet (they have the same kind of feet as humans) and their having the same need for shoes as everyone else.

[Jennie Baron]

Very true.

[Stefanie Holmes]

An excellent cliffhanger my friend! I totally wish I could move on to the next chapter and see what happens, but unfortunately work is calling my name. I am certainly looking forward to seeing what comes up next!

Also, there were no errors that I could see so you did an excellent job proofreading! :)

~Stefanie

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Thanks so much. Ohhhh, man, the next two chapters, things start to escalate, especially 2 chapters from now xD

Have a good day at work!

[Craig2591]

Excellent cliffhanger. I do have a slight problem with a line in the first paragraph - "A knife had been thrust just below his ribs." - I thought he'd actually been stabbed rather than it being a metaphor for a running cramp. Perhaps that should be reworded somehow. Otherwise a good chapter. It looks like it was a challenging one to write.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

I'll fix it so it says "It felt as though..." [= And yeah, definitely very challenging! I needed to make the misfortune enabled by their foolishness seem plausible in some way.

[ferousfinite]

Great Job with a ton of content. Consider a re-write and use a format that suits this genre. A good 1st draft. Keep writing =)

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Thanks for the review! could you clarify what you mean about the format? Thanks! (:

[ferousfinite]

Well, you have a double indent, a single space between periods and a single line gap between paragraphs. This could be considered a concise and short gesture. I recommend noindent, every paragraph with dialog needs to be separated and italicize the narration.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Gotcha. Thanks! Will fix!

[Raymond Federle]

Another wonderful chapter..I'm hooked here! What's next, what's next!!!! :)

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy the next bit showing the fate of thodr two young whippersnappers! [=

[Nusquam Esse]

Honestly, I liked your prologue because it felt absurd in its own madness, as everything spiraled out of control, without any real rational. Yet the other Chapters just haven't taken my fancy, the stories development doesn't feel strong enough, or compelling in comparison. Its as if the prologue is more powerful without understanding more of the setting; to the point that I felt it did better as a standalone piece. But this is just me, so take it with a grain of salt. I have always been into short stories which deal with 'madness' and irrational human behavior; and it is not usually popular stuff, so maybe this has potential as a novel for other people. But again, for me, it gets weaker the more you flesh it out.

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

Fair enough; everyone definitely has their own taste and prefers their own individual set of appeal factors and thus no work will ever be universally liked or disliked. For instance, Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey are popular among many, but neither had much appeal for me. I might be wrong, but I get the vibe that you have a predisposition for loving psychological thrillers and anything else more centered on what's happening inside a character's head. [=

[Nusquam Esse]

Yeah, psychological stuff, and a blend of surrealism and existentialism. It is not exactly standard fare... But again, while it was a bit rough and still felt like a draft, I did like your prologue (I read it several weeks ago, I thought I wrote a review, but I guess I got distracted before I finished it?)