Another Original Fic... More
Well, it's certainly been another long while for an update, hasn't it?
In the past couple of weeks, I've been busy with another tale, fanfic in this case, which dominated a lot of my time. Eleven completed chapters, nearly 40k words, and still truckin'! For those who might be interested, I am writing a series of stories, Silmarillion based, and I'm currently working on the third. If interested, 'The Key' and 'Sirion's Gift' are located at:
http://www.scribesoferiador.com/story/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogsection&id=8&Itemid=68
Anyway, this particular fic is now named, thank you Rhapsody! From now on, you'll find the title, 'Threeway Fortune', up in the subject line. It'll still retain the P&P icon, just in case that's how folks are keeping track. ;-) Also, this tale is in it's rough stages. The muses I'm working with are more intent on getting the characters introduced than any part of the story. But that's in the planning stages. This is my first original romance story/novel (possibly) so it's going a little rough at present. :-) At any rate, I've worked on more, bringing out another character. I have one more to introduce, then I'll have a 'discussion' with my muses and see where this story will go...
~*~*~
Keeping himself from flying apart was top priority. Delaney kept his pace swift, yet not so much that Markas would have to run to keep up with him. It was true; he didn’t find the men they were looking for. But he did find someone else, and due to his loud and sometimes raucous nature, he was certain she’d seen him. He tried to hide in the shadows of the hall she was playing at, but she’d seen him. He knew it when her fingers fumbled on her harp strings. It was only a slight mishap; the discordance covered quickly when she averted her eyes as she concentrated hard on the instrument. Cursing the fact that he resembled his recently deceased cousin, he went from the building back out into the night. Hopefully with his back to Markas, his best friend wouldn’t notice how he clenched his fists.
She’d come to his town with two others several years ago, before he met Markas. Her auburn hair and honey brown eyes immediately caught his attention, as well as his cousin’s. Only with his cousin, there was more in his eyes than simple admiration. She played music for the other two as they danced, and then danced herself while they provided the beat with clapping. Her smile lit up her face, and he could tell she was happy. The three of them spent several days in the town, earning money for when they left, and really in no particular hurry. But his cousin changed all that. If only he’d known what Damien was up to, he might’ve been able to prevent it. The other two girls didn’t spark his cousin’s interest at all. Not like Katiri did.
One evening, the three ladies split up, performing for whoever paid the most for their services the night before. Damien and Delaney both went to see Katiri dance at a bachelor party. As was his usual thing back then, he found himself keeping company with the ale keg and a few other drunken sots. He didn’t know his cousin waited for the dancer girl to collect her wages and leave, following after her. Two days later, not only had the women left in a hurry, but Damien told him everything that he did to the pretty auburn-haired dancer. He fought the bile that rose in his throat then, as he did now. Gods, how he wished he could have found it in his power to kill his cousin then. How he wished they looked nothing alike. Damien had gone mad, committing crimes against whomever he chose, and the law finally caught up to him. Delaney remembered the day his cousin was hung until dead, and felt a little cheated that he wasn’t able to kick the stool out from under him.
He loved his cousin once. When they were younger, they loved playing tricks on the townspeople by dressing the same, acting the same, and engaging in petty theft. They stole fruits or loaves of bread from the market, enjoying their free meal when each made it safely away. Delaney still didn’t know what caused Damien to change for the worse. But his cousin was dead now, and he wanted to make amends with Katiri. The only thing that stopped him was his looks, knowing she’d see Damien in his features and not who he really was. He saw the fear in her eyes, and the desire to run as far from him as possible. He did the running for her instead.
“Del, slow down, will you?” Markas’ voice called to him. He didn’t know when he started walking faster, but shook himself and slowed down.
“Sorry,” he mumbled when Markas caught up to him. He felt his friend’s eyes on him and tried not to flinch.
“Something wrong?” Markas asked after a while. He shrugged and didn’t speak. Probably not the best of ideas, for he knew his best friend was too curious for his own good, but thanked whatever Gods watching that he didn’t ask anything further. At least not now.
That was another thing that haunted him. Markas was his best friend and he still couldn’t tell him what happened. Oh, he knew he’d have to someday, most likely soon. But seeing Katiri’s fear made him clam up again. It was a failing of his to keep everything locked up inside until it ended up bursting out on its own, and at the most inopportune times. Ironically, that’s how he’d met Markas. He was about to get his ass kicked after one of his notorious explosions, and Markas came to his aid. Of course, they were outnumbered and the others had already gotten in a few good hits, fairly winding Delaney. If Markas hadn’t shown up when he did, he might’ve had several broken bones or worse.
Delaney gathered his memories together and locked them away again as they neared the inn where Corren was supposed to be staying. With dawn not far off, the tavern on the first level was nearly empty, save for the die-hards who’d stay to get a breakfast before stumbling home, wherever home was. He opened the door quietly, and held it open as Markas followed him inside. They grabbed a couple mugs left out for early (or late) customers, such as they were, and filled them with ale from a small keg open for the same purpose. Delaney paid for both, leaving the money in the locked box beside the keg. Following Markas to a table in the corner, they waited for daylight and Corren.
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Markas said, taking a sidelong glance at him. “You’ve been too quiet.”
“I don’t think the customers would appreciate my usual flair,” he replied, turning his best smile to his friend.
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Damn, how he hated when Markas was right, too. Normally, they’d have started singing a few bawdy songs to attract pretty maids who were inclined to join in for more than just the songs. They’d have also been talking loudly and being just a couple of nuisances for those whose hangovers had already begun. But then he didn’t have to worry about seeing Katiri wherever they went, and tonight, that’s what kept him from doing anything more than stare into his ale mug and think.
“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to stew over it until you somehow get both of us in trouble?”
“I could stand for a good fight. It’s been too long since the last one.”
“Yes, and as I recall, you complained about the bruises and cuts for days afterward, while I had to suffer a black eye and dislocated fingers. I’m not exactly ready for another fight.”
“Spoil sport.”
“Damn right, I am! With the way you’re acting now, I can almost bet you’d put us both in the infirmary with injuries worse than bruises and black eyes. Now, talk.”
Delaney glared at Markas. He cursed softly to himself for letting his memories and feelings get the better of him. Then he cursed again for being so predictable. Shrugging again, he waited until he emptied his mug of ale, got up to get more, and sat back down in his chair again. Markas knew he was stalling, but waited him out. After a long drink of ale, he began to tell the story, watching Markas’ expression. When he finished, Markas exhaled loudly and looked away for a moment before returning his gaze.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Delaney couldn’t hold back his surprise. He hadn’t considered that at all. Sure, she’d caught his attention so long ago, but he passed it off as fleeting fancy and nothing more. Now he realized Markas was right, again damn him, and Delaney couldn’t figure out when it happened. But nothing would come of it. She was too frightened of who he resembled. Great. Love unrequited. How’d he get himself into this mess?
~*~*~
In the past couple of weeks, I've been busy with another tale, fanfic in this case, which dominated a lot of my time. Eleven completed chapters, nearly 40k words, and still truckin'! For those who might be interested, I am writing a series of stories, Silmarillion based, and I'm currently working on the third. If interested, 'The Key' and 'Sirion's Gift' are located at:
http://www.scribesoferiador.com/story/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogsection&id=8&Itemid=68
Anyway, this particular fic is now named, thank you Rhapsody! From now on, you'll find the title, 'Threeway Fortune', up in the subject line. It'll still retain the P&P icon, just in case that's how folks are keeping track. ;-) Also, this tale is in it's rough stages. The muses I'm working with are more intent on getting the characters introduced than any part of the story. But that's in the planning stages. This is my first original romance story/novel (possibly) so it's going a little rough at present. :-) At any rate, I've worked on more, bringing out another character. I have one more to introduce, then I'll have a 'discussion' with my muses and see where this story will go...
~*~*~
Keeping himself from flying apart was top priority. Delaney kept his pace swift, yet not so much that Markas would have to run to keep up with him. It was true; he didn’t find the men they were looking for. But he did find someone else, and due to his loud and sometimes raucous nature, he was certain she’d seen him. He tried to hide in the shadows of the hall she was playing at, but she’d seen him. He knew it when her fingers fumbled on her harp strings. It was only a slight mishap; the discordance covered quickly when she averted her eyes as she concentrated hard on the instrument. Cursing the fact that he resembled his recently deceased cousin, he went from the building back out into the night. Hopefully with his back to Markas, his best friend wouldn’t notice how he clenched his fists.
She’d come to his town with two others several years ago, before he met Markas. Her auburn hair and honey brown eyes immediately caught his attention, as well as his cousin’s. Only with his cousin, there was more in his eyes than simple admiration. She played music for the other two as they danced, and then danced herself while they provided the beat with clapping. Her smile lit up her face, and he could tell she was happy. The three of them spent several days in the town, earning money for when they left, and really in no particular hurry. But his cousin changed all that. If only he’d known what Damien was up to, he might’ve been able to prevent it. The other two girls didn’t spark his cousin’s interest at all. Not like Katiri did.
One evening, the three ladies split up, performing for whoever paid the most for their services the night before. Damien and Delaney both went to see Katiri dance at a bachelor party. As was his usual thing back then, he found himself keeping company with the ale keg and a few other drunken sots. He didn’t know his cousin waited for the dancer girl to collect her wages and leave, following after her. Two days later, not only had the women left in a hurry, but Damien told him everything that he did to the pretty auburn-haired dancer. He fought the bile that rose in his throat then, as he did now. Gods, how he wished he could have found it in his power to kill his cousin then. How he wished they looked nothing alike. Damien had gone mad, committing crimes against whomever he chose, and the law finally caught up to him. Delaney remembered the day his cousin was hung until dead, and felt a little cheated that he wasn’t able to kick the stool out from under him.
He loved his cousin once. When they were younger, they loved playing tricks on the townspeople by dressing the same, acting the same, and engaging in petty theft. They stole fruits or loaves of bread from the market, enjoying their free meal when each made it safely away. Delaney still didn’t know what caused Damien to change for the worse. But his cousin was dead now, and he wanted to make amends with Katiri. The only thing that stopped him was his looks, knowing she’d see Damien in his features and not who he really was. He saw the fear in her eyes, and the desire to run as far from him as possible. He did the running for her instead.
“Del, slow down, will you?” Markas’ voice called to him. He didn’t know when he started walking faster, but shook himself and slowed down.
“Sorry,” he mumbled when Markas caught up to him. He felt his friend’s eyes on him and tried not to flinch.
“Something wrong?” Markas asked after a while. He shrugged and didn’t speak. Probably not the best of ideas, for he knew his best friend was too curious for his own good, but thanked whatever Gods watching that he didn’t ask anything further. At least not now.
That was another thing that haunted him. Markas was his best friend and he still couldn’t tell him what happened. Oh, he knew he’d have to someday, most likely soon. But seeing Katiri’s fear made him clam up again. It was a failing of his to keep everything locked up inside until it ended up bursting out on its own, and at the most inopportune times. Ironically, that’s how he’d met Markas. He was about to get his ass kicked after one of his notorious explosions, and Markas came to his aid. Of course, they were outnumbered and the others had already gotten in a few good hits, fairly winding Delaney. If Markas hadn’t shown up when he did, he might’ve had several broken bones or worse.
Delaney gathered his memories together and locked them away again as they neared the inn where Corren was supposed to be staying. With dawn not far off, the tavern on the first level was nearly empty, save for the die-hards who’d stay to get a breakfast before stumbling home, wherever home was. He opened the door quietly, and held it open as Markas followed him inside. They grabbed a couple mugs left out for early (or late) customers, such as they were, and filled them with ale from a small keg open for the same purpose. Delaney paid for both, leaving the money in the locked box beside the keg. Following Markas to a table in the corner, they waited for daylight and Corren.
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Markas said, taking a sidelong glance at him. “You’ve been too quiet.”
“I don’t think the customers would appreciate my usual flair,” he replied, turning his best smile to his friend.
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Damn, how he hated when Markas was right, too. Normally, they’d have started singing a few bawdy songs to attract pretty maids who were inclined to join in for more than just the songs. They’d have also been talking loudly and being just a couple of nuisances for those whose hangovers had already begun. But then he didn’t have to worry about seeing Katiri wherever they went, and tonight, that’s what kept him from doing anything more than stare into his ale mug and think.
“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to stew over it until you somehow get both of us in trouble?”
“I could stand for a good fight. It’s been too long since the last one.”
“Yes, and as I recall, you complained about the bruises and cuts for days afterward, while I had to suffer a black eye and dislocated fingers. I’m not exactly ready for another fight.”
“Spoil sport.”
“Damn right, I am! With the way you’re acting now, I can almost bet you’d put us both in the infirmary with injuries worse than bruises and black eyes. Now, talk.”
Delaney glared at Markas. He cursed softly to himself for letting his memories and feelings get the better of him. Then he cursed again for being so predictable. Shrugging again, he waited until he emptied his mug of ale, got up to get more, and sat back down in his chair again. Markas knew he was stalling, but waited him out. After a long drink of ale, he began to tell the story, watching Markas’ expression. When he finished, Markas exhaled loudly and looked away for a moment before returning his gaze.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Delaney couldn’t hold back his surprise. He hadn’t considered that at all. Sure, she’d caught his attention so long ago, but he passed it off as fleeting fancy and nothing more. Now he realized Markas was right, again damn him, and Delaney couldn’t figure out when it happened. But nothing would come of it. She was too frightened of who he resembled. Great. Love unrequited. How’d he get himself into this mess?
~*~*~