One: Dynyd Rodranson

The first chapter of Dynyd's adventures. I hope you enjoy it, and please comment.

Winter

The year 1836 of the Rule of Man

Ælhollow

 

Kal’mara, the Elvish Land

 

Dynyd Rodranson threw his sword aside with a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He stood at six feet and an inch, a tremendous height for a boy two days short of becoming a man. His cropped hair was the delicate colour of bronze, and his skin too fair to allow a beard to flourish on his face. He had a stubborn chin, and green eyes covered by dainty brows. Despite his height, his was a slight build, although his arms and legs were heavily muscled.

“I swear I’m never going to beat you!” he complained in the language of elves to his sparring partner, an elf of five feet and ten inches with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. The elf was three years older than Dynyd, but more immature according to the measures of his race. A furry white tail poked through his pants, curling and twitching like that of an agitated cat.

The elf smiled and replied in the same tongue. “Even your father cannot hope to beat an Elven swordsman!” Veses laughed. “You are definitely a master swordsman amongst humans, Dynyd! It is just that my race is inherently better equipped for combat. Of course, if you wanted to try another round…”

“I’d love to,” Dynyd replied, picking up his sword again and sheathing it in a plain black scabbard, “but I can’t. There’s still so much to do before Sunsday, and I don’t know that we’ll manage it all in time.”

“We’ll help,” another elf jumped down from a nearby tree, and strode swiftly towards his two friends. He looked much more unusual than Veses, his skin a curious shade of blue, the same as his eyes, and even his hair. “We’ve got nothing better to do.”

“No, I already told you,” Dynyd told Taial stubbornly. “I want this to be a surprise. Besides, this is the last day I’m allowed to help. Father’s still refusing to let me do anything tomorrow. He’s got some big secret that even I’m not allowed to know about, never mind that it’s my party!”

“He is worthy of the title elf-friend,” laughed Taial. “It is unwise ever to reveal all your secrets. You are much the same, Dynyd – I find it easy to forget that you are not of my own race sometimes.”

“Until he draws his sword!” put in Veses, and the two elves laughed, their voices tinkling like the sun reflecting on water.

“You’ll come back later, won’t you, Dynyd?” asked Taial. “You still haven’t told us what exactly happens at this ceremony of yours, and we wouldn’t want to appear ignorant!”

“All right, I’ll be back at the fifth hour,” Dynyd promised.

“We’ll be waiting,” Taial replied. “Now, Veses, how about I test your skill with the bow? It’s one thing beating a human with a sword, but an entirely different matter competing against me!”

“You think you’ll win?” asked Veses, as Dynyd walked away, smiling.

“Of course.”

The main reason the preparations were taking so long was that Dynyd and his father were trying to arrange a coming-of-age ceremony that incorporated both human and Elven traditions. The elder of Ælhollow, Ardorm, who was over one hundred and fifty years old, was also overseeing the preparations.

“Ah, Ter Dynyd,” he called in Elvish. “How do you wish for the stage to be constructed? As you know, we would normally have two separate stages, one for the parents to make their speech, and one for you, before you join them as an adult, but your father says humans don’t do that.”

“I’ll have two,” Dynyd replied after a few seconds’ thought. He had witnessed very few human coming-of-age ceremonies, as he had been only six years old when he left Lorwynne, the Human Realm, to live amongst the elves, and the separate stages were very important in Elven tradition. They symbolised the passage from childhood to manhood.

“Very good, Ter. Where do you want them? With the sun behind you, to symbolise the start of a new journey, or ahead, to show the future you aspire to?”

“I will have the sun behind the second stage, so that when I walk into adulthood, I am heading towards the sun, and my future,” Dynyd replied, smiling at the look of satisfaction on the elf’s face.

“Of course, Ter. Of course.” Ardorm began to sing, and as he did so certain trees near the edge of the clearing began slowly to twist and turn, extending ancient branches inwards, towards the source of the magic. Gradually they began to arrange themselves into neatly ordered rows, and then flatten until they had the appearance of planks, forming two raised platforms. The stages were alive, crafted from the forest, as was almost everything in Kal’mara.

Ardorm’s questions continued, and gradually the clearing began to look a little more like the setting for a party. The seats, Dynyd was assured, would be taken care of the next day, as he had still not been permitted to look at the guest list. Every elf in Ælhollow had been invited, of course, and several were visiting from nearby towns and villages, friends of Rodran rather than Dynyd. The boy was sure there was some special surprise on the list to explain why his father would not let him look.

Once the physical appearance had been sorted, Dynyd began to work on a piece of magic. At every coming-of-age ceremony, whether human or elf, the child was expected to produce something to present to their guests, whether a recital of poetry or song, a handcrafted armlet or picture, or a display of magic.

“What did you make for your ceremony?” Dynyd had asked his father.

“I fletched twenty arrows for my quiver,” Rodran had replied gruffly, “the better to protect my people once I was a man.”

Rodran, a beast of a man at six feet and five inches, had worked in Fay, a county in Lorwynne, as both a merchant and a warrior, protecting the wealthy village of Faybridge from bandits and worse. Since leaving the Bridge he had grown a rich beard in the same deep brown shade as his hair, and his eyebrows had grown ever wilder, covering fierce brown eyes.

Dynyd, however, did not want to be presumptuous with his gift. Whilst his father was an elf-friend – a very great honour bestowed on few humans – and a mighty warrior, he was untested in battle, having only ever sparred with guarded blades, or shot at a lifeless target. His poetry could never hope to compete with that of the elves, and though he had a clear, pleasant voice, he was afraid to sing in public. He could also never hope to better the elves’ craftsmanship, leaving him only one option: magic.

He looked inside himself for memories of his life, from the first time he had set foot in Kal’mara to the time he had learnt to tie his shoelaces. He gave these images life, shaping them with magic, until the images danced in front of him like wraiths. He tied each one to a tree around the perimeter of the clearing, and hid it from wandering eyes, so that it would become visible as he called upon it during he ceremony.

It was simple magic, but he imbibed each image with enough magic to make it clearly visible from the very back of the audience, until he could not afford to give away any more of his strength. Almost any elf could cast greater magic, could do something far more showy and exciting, but he hoped that the personal touch he had given would make it worth more than the most powerful spell ever cast.

“Have you prepared your presentation?” Rodran asked his son, arriving at the clearing with his arms full of banners and paper ribbons.

“Yes, father,” Dynyd replied, smiling slightly. Ardorm had watched as he had worked, but Rodran did not yet know what Dynyd had prepared.

“May I know what it is?”

“No. You are not the only one with secrets.”

Rodran laughed. “I see. Well, you may as well leave now, Dynyd. You look shattered, and Ardorm and I want to get on with things. Please don’t come back here until the ceremony itself.”

Dynyd nodded. “I won’t.”

He found Taial and Veses at the archery butts. The blue elf was winning easily – whilst he refused to wield a sword, saying that it was ugly and unnatural, he was lethal with a bow in his hand. The targets were placed further from the archers than any human would believe possible, thee hundred, four hundred and four hundred and fifty yards away.

“Do you want a turn?” offered Taial.

Dynyd shook his head. “You know I don’t stand a chance of beating you! It’s even more unlikely than me winning against Veses at swordplay! Besides, my bow’s back at the house and I can’t even draw yours!”

Taial smiled. “Well then, if you will not give us the satisfaction of beating you, will you tell us about your ceremony?”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Well, why are you so young? We do not celebrate adulthood until we are twenty-five, and the dwarves wait until they are twenty. Sixteen seems awfully young to be classed as a man.”

Dynyd laughed. “Aye, it is, but we humans rarely live to be more than fifty under the King’s rule. At sixteen, in the eyes of the law, I am an adult, able to take a wife, raise children, own my own land and business.”

“What will we do at this ceremony? Do we tell tales of your childhood and give you blessings for the future?” asked Veses. “Are we expected to give you a gift in public or in private?”

“My father and Ardorm will speak about my childhood, and I think there are one or two others who my father has approached to speak – but according to human tradition, only adults may do so, because I am leaving my childhood friends behind. My father will probably give me a blessing – although I haven’t discussed that with him at all. As for gifts, you may do as you please. Traditionally gifts are presented upon arrival, but I do not expect anything from you.”

“Of course we shall give you something,” said Veses. “We shall not allow you to enter manhood unequipped!”

“But is that all that happens?” asked Taial. “You have seen our ceremonies – there is much singing and talking and praising and celebration. Do humans not walk between the willows and wear a hawthorn crown? Do not the other young men who are now their equals dress them in preparation for their adult life?”

“Normally, no,” replied Dynyd, smiling at the elves’ shock. “There is plenty of celebrating, and rejoicing – food and drink takes care of that! As for willows and hawthorn, humans see willows as a sign of ill luck, and no crown, hawthorn or otherwise, is permitted on any head but the King’s. I don’t think any human would appreciate being undressed in front of a crowd, either.”

Taial scratched his head, confused. “It is strange,” he said slowly, “how you can live amongst us with such ease, yet our races are so very different.”

“What’s this Quest you mentioned?” asked Veses after a long and thoughtful silence.

“It’s the most important tradition of the coming-of-age ceremony,” replied Dynyd in a low, excited voice. “It’s how a boy discovers himself and truly becomes a man. Noblemen send their sons into the service of a friend, as a squire. Other sons may travel, if their parents have enough money, or learn a trade as an apprentice. For six months, you go to live away from your family, exercising the freedom that you are entitled to. Some people don’t go back, they enjoy their new life so much.”

This explanation was met by shocked silence.

“You mean, you’ll be leaving for six months?” asked Taial finally.

“I don’t think father intends to let me go – he feels that I am safe here, that I wouldn’t be anywhere else. But I want to do it! Any boy would. I want to travel Lorwynne, perhaps even visit K’gurrn and the dwarves, see the sights Ortera has to offer and prove my worth as a man!”

“Why would Lorwynne be dangerous for you? You are a human.”

Dynyd sighed. “I think it’s the same reason my father’s an elf-friend. You don’t get the äkyl for just protecting a bunch of humans from bandits, do you?”

Veses and Taial shook their heads. “You know how great an honour that ring is, Dynyd. All who wear it have done great things for elves.”

“Exactly. Well, whatever my father did – for he still refuses to tell me, and Ardorm won’t let anything slip, either – he’s an enemy of the King. Kal’mara resists the King’s rule, silently, yes, but it is still resisting. The King wants all of Ortera under his command – anyone who is a friend of a nation that resists him is an enemy. I can’t say that I like the sound of being the King’s enemy and more than my father does!”

Taial laughed. “He can hunt you, but he can’t hurt you. You are a match for any human, Dynyd, not matter how proficient he be with sword or bow. It is only elves who can hope to best you!”

Dynyd scowled. “The King is rumoured to be quick and strong as an elf, cunning and angry as a dwarf, changing as the very wind. And he’s a magician. A powerful one. I may better him with sword and bow, but what good is that if he can destroy me with magic?”

“Well, then you must either stay here safely away from him, or leave on your Quest in the hope that he does not know of your existence and never has reason to quarrel with you.”

Dynyd knew what Taial was trying to say. Rodran was worrying needlessly about allowing his son to set out on a Quest, for Dynyd was as capable as anyone of looking after himself, and it was highly unlikely that any enemy, let alone the King, would even want to kill him, let alone try to do it. He had told his father so for weeks, but Rodran was still refusing to allow his son to leave, saying, “If it’s good enough for the elves not to do a Quest, it’s good enough for you.”

“Can I spend tomorrow with you?” he asked his friends calmly. “I expect I’ll be too excited to sit around not doing anything, and there’s always a chance, however slim, that I might manage to beat one of you at this sport!”

The elves laughed. “Of course, Ter Dynyd, but we must leave before the sun goes down, for we have preparations of our own before the ceremony.”

Author's Note

Any grammar or spelling checks would be greatly appreciated! And please give me honest feedback. if you don't like bits, tell me, and offer improvements. And if you like it, which bits?