Otteita kirjasta There and back for gain, a halfling's story

[hullukoira]

Eli tässä muutama viikko sitten kirjoitin tämän matskun Black Librarylle ja pistin sen sinne postissa menee. Mukana oli myös tiivistelmä kirjan juonesta ja henkilöistä (jota en tähän laita). BL:tä ei ole asiaa kommentoitu. Eikä ihmekään, sillä sinne pääsee vain jos on suhteita sinnepäin. Se osaako kirjoittaa vai ei, ei ole niin tärkeää. Minkä todistavat jo Gavin karseat kirjat...

Mutta tässä sitä halfling tarinaa. alla on kirjan eka kappale, ja sitten näytettä äksönistä about puoliväliltä tarinaa. Enempää en ole tätä kirjaa kirjoittanutkaan, enkä varmaan kirjoitakaan! Mut toivottavasti täällä joku nauttii tästä tekstistä!
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There and back for gain

Chapter 1

In a hole there lived a halfling. Now those of you that know something of the halfling race will no doubt picture a cosy, warm and all round pleasant dwelling at this point. Sadly, this very hole was neither cosy, nor was it particulary dry. In fact it was downright damp and smelled of old, unwashed laundry.

The halfling in question was Tarny Roughshod of the Roughshod halflings. An old rascal and adventurer, he had travelled all round the empire, and had just a couple of fortnights ago returned to his childhood dwelling, only to find that his parents were gone for good, and his siblings gone for better living in Nuln. The Roughshod hole had thusly been abandoned for nearly ten years, and it showed. At first inspection Tarny had found the cellar full of water (and rats), the larder full of mouldy and, thankfully, unrecognizable foodstuff (not to mention rats) and the main bedroom full of badgers (and, naturally, even more rats).

Tarny had been dismayed but not stymied. He had made a solemn vow to retire from the business of thievery and rascalship and intended to keep to his word. And since there was not enough loot to buy a new halfling hole, only one route of action was left for him. -Renovation!

The work had started well enough. The local gardener, Malt Grumpy, had agreed to weed out the kitchen garden for a very decent price. -Namely, that he could have all of the badgers he could catch. He was very particular to badger meat, was old Grumpy. Many wondered, but nobody dared inquire as to why... And as to the hole itself, Grumpy's youngest son, Hops, had agreed to help Tarny out just so he could listen to Tarny's outrageous adventure stories (all true to the word, my young Hops, to the word). And so, as the weeks had passed, the cellar had been emptied of stagnant water (and rats), larder throughoutly cleaned of mould (and rats), and the bedroom badgers handed over to old Grumpy. As for the bedroom's rats, they had miraculously disappeared. No doubt the destinies of their relatives had reached their pinkish ears and given them incentive to move to the great outdoors.


The day's chores done (new floorboards for the kitchen had been laid out), old Tarny was sitting outside his hole, smoking pipeweed, and watching the slowly darkening sky. Nightingales had just started singing, gnats and other bugs were thankfullly absent, and in the air there was the pleasant scent of early summer flowers in bloom. Tarny was, at that moment, truly happy to have returned home. He sighed contentedly and blew a silvery smoke ring up into the deep sky.

Suddenly around the bend there came the sound jingling, like that of a horse's harness. Tarny's ears prickled. Who could it be? The Roughshod road was seldom used, it being in the remote, eastern part of the moot, and the path up to the Roughshod hole was thusly overgrown with hardy greenery. A horse had not been seen in the locale for, well, never. Oh well, it's probably somebody who has lost his way, thought Tarny. After all, the Moot was riddled with byways and roads that meandered here and there with no apparent rhyme or reason.

The horse, a grey mare, appeared round the bend, stepping hesitantly along the uneven road. Tarny could now see it had a rider, and very singular rider at that. That the young traveller was a man, there was no doubt (he had a rather thin, but quite long, blonde beard and curly whiskers), but he was for some reason wearing a luxurous, green, velvet dress adorned with flowers. He was also holding aloft a sturdy wooden staff, which emitted a soft green glow.

As the man trod closer to the hole, Tarny suddenly jumped up and shouted 'By the Blessed Booty, is that you, Warren Oakdraft?!?

'Ah!' cried the rider, 'Tarny Rouhgshod! Praised be the Ghyran! I've been looking for you the whole day! They gave me directions at the Moot and Coot, a lovely inn by the way, very picturesque, but these local roads look much the same to me and thusly I have been wandering round and round for what has felt like eternity! Thankfully I happened upon this old halfling carrying a pile of badger skins and he had me back on track in no time!'

'Good old Warren,' Smiled Tarny as he watched the young man trying to unhorse himself. He was very surprised by Warrens arrival, yet very pleased as well. He had made very few friends on his travels, but he considered Warren as one of them. 'Still the babblemouth. You do look a bit tarnished by the ride. Do step down and come inside. I'll have a cup of tea for you in a heartbeat. Oh, just leave the horse there. I have no stables, as you might have guessed. We do not much go for horses, us halflings! And when you have had some nourishment, you can tell me all about your life in the big city and also the reason why you're looking for me.'

Warren Oakdraft stepped inside the halfling hole after the bustling and humming Tarny. At the entrance hall he looked around in genuine interest, never having been inside a halfling dwelling before. At the hearth of the hall, a great fire was blazing, despite the warmness of weather. On its yellowish glow Warren could see low walls panelled with light birch, upon which were hanged many menmentoes from Tarnys adventuring days. The ceiling was curved and plastered over, then painted with light khaki. From its center there hung a small chandelier that had no candles on it. The floor below Warrens feet was covered with old, cracked stone slabs. From the spacious entrance hall he could see round, tunnel-like hallways reaching deeper into the hillside. As he handed his hat and staff to the halfling, he enquired why the fire was lit on such a mellow day.

'It is to dry the place up', explained the halfling while hanging the wizard's pointy hat to a crooked nail protruding from the wall. 'It's still awfully damp here and we have to keep the fires burning in every room to fight it. Thankfully we are rid of the actual water. The cellar was full of it when I arrived here! But come, into the kitchen!'


Warren followed Tarny into the leftmost hallway and as he did so he noticed that most doorways along the route had been boarded over with stone and plank. Tarny noticed his look and hastened to explain, 'The hillside is riddled with rooms I have no need of. So rather than try to fix them up, I just shut them up. Also, it'll be easier, and cheaper, to keep the place warm in winter like this.'

The kitchen at least was well stuffed and clean. The walls were full of shelves and small cabinets filled with mismatched kitchenware and various foodstuff. At the other end of the room, a narrow backdoor led to the kitchen gardens. Beside the portal there was a round window through which Warren could see few scrawny apple trees silhouetted against the reddening sky. In the kitchen also a happy fire was burning in an iron stove and Tarny hastened to fill a small kettle with water, which he then set to the stove. Warren he ushered to a small, square table at the middle of the room, to which he then set a pitcher an two cups. Pouring generous measures of golden ale to both, he then enquired, 'So, how have you been? Did they make a wizard out of you yet? Tell me all!'

Warren took a deep draught of the rich, smooth ale. 'Ahhhh,' he sighed, contentedly, 'What an excellend brew! Is this local? It is? Well, I have to come visit you more often then! But as to your questions, I am doing just fine and yes, they did make a wizard out of me. Took me three more years of hard study after you left Altdorf, and at the end of it I was a full wizard of the Order of Life.'

'Order of life?' quizzed Tarny from behind his second cup of ale. 'What's that?'

'Oh, its all about nature and how to bend it to your will. We do rain spells and such. I'm pretty good at it. I suppose growing up in a farm gave me a ready affinity with nature...'

'And what did you do after graduation? Did you stay at Altdorf?'

'Good heavens no! I had no money to speak of, and there wasn't much demand for Life wizards in the city. No, I moved to Averheim as soon as I graduated. I have a little shop there now. I do rain and other very useful stuff for local farmers and they pay me for it quite generously. Usually with foodstuff and chickens, I grant you that, but the job keeps me fed and alive. And now and then I can even send some money back to my parents.'

'How are your parents anyway? From what I recall, you said they never liked you going away to study wizardcraft...'

'You remember correctly. I went to visit the old place soon after settling myself at Averheim. My old folks live near the city you see. Mother was well pleased when she saw me in my full wizardly regalia. Father was a bit more slow to come around, but he folded soon after I demonstrated a rain spell over his parched turnip patch. Then he could well see that there were advantages of having a wizard in the family! But what of you Tarny,' Warren then asked, pouring himself another cup of the tasty brew, 'What have you been up to? At the inn they told you have been fixing this old place up for a month now. How did that come about? I never thought you as a settling down type...'

'Oh, I got old, too old for my profession,' sighed Tarny from the stove where he was now busy chopping vegetables to the boiling kettle. Instead of a tea he had decided to go for a full evening meal. 'Could not run away the way I used to, so I decided better to retire than to be thrown into jail for the rest of my life.'

Warren looked at his old friend, his rosy cheeks, snubby nose, dark twinking eyes and curly black hair. The halfling looked much the same he had back at Altdorf, where they had had many an adventure together. Warren had been lookin for coin to pay for his studies, and Tarny had just been lookin for coin. Together they had roamed the countryside and hunted stray mutants and beastmen for coppers. The Altdorf city council had a custom, back then, to pay a copper for every beastman head brought to them and it was easy enough money for a sneaky halfling good with a bow, and a young wizard-in-training good with a sling and filled with the confidence of youth. They had had many adventures together, Tarny and he, some of which had been quite dangerous. 'You haven't aged a day,' he commented.

'Ah, do not be fooled,' grinned Tarny, 'by my lustry hair. It's dyed!'

'No!'

'It is! I hit this barber shop back at Altdorf just before I had to quit the town. Among the treasures I found therein were these pots of dye. For hair you know. It's all the rage among the nobility. I took all the black dyes I could find, as at the time I had started noticing a few gray hairs among my curly mane. Good thing too. If I washed my hair just now, you would see a real grayhead. I'm one hundred and ten you know...'

'One hundred and ten!' exclaimed Warren and then continued, grinning mishievously. 'I cannot believe it! I was adventuring with an old timer! You could have dropped anytime out of old age! And I trusted my live to your hands!'

Tarny grinned too at this. His friend was well aware halflings lived longer than humans. And as he looked over the boiling stew he got to the question that had been at the back of his mind during the whole conversation. 'You said you have been looking for me. Why is that? And do not tell me it was those scrolls I pilfered from the academy. Because, you know, I do not have them anymore. Sold them for a pittance, a pittance, in Nuln.'

'Nothing like that,' assured Warren, 'although, when the theft was noticed, there was some talk about sending an assassin after you. No, the reason I have been looking for you is that we need your help. Or rather, we need your skills as a master thief.'

Tarnys chest inflated considerably at hearing himself named a master thief, but he was sharply to the point. 'You said we? There are others with you? Do not tell me you have joined with some rattlebrained adventuring band out for a hidden treasure?!?'

'No, not exactly,' answered the wizard, blushing slightly at the rebuke. 'And yet we are bound for an adventure, and our goal is to get our hands to some lost treasure. But to do that, we do need a thief, because the treasure we are after is very well guarded. Or so I have been informed by my companions anyway.'

'Sounds like nothing I would like a part in,' sniffed Tarny, shaking his head at the whole foolishness. 'And if you were wise, you would not have any part in it either. What's in it for you anyway that you decided to go along? Fame? Fortune? Ladies?' And seeing the last one hitting home Tarny sighed and said, 'So it is women. Well, it's not a surprise, you being a youngster and all. Is she a town girl you need the money to marry, or is she part of this adventure group of yours? No, do not tell me. I'm sure I do not want to know.'

'So you're not coming,' asked Warren, clearly disappointed.

'Nope.'

'But at least hear my companions out. They came all the way here with me to meet you. They have been very impressed by the stories I have told them about you. Hear them out, for old times sake, and then decide. For old times sake. Please..?'

Tarny struggled with himself. He knew he would say no to the offer, no matter who the wizard's new friends were, but part of him was curious. He would at least like to see what kind of company the young Warren had fallen into. And if they were rotten apples, he could then at least warn the wizard.

'Very well,' Tarny finally sighed. 'Bring them over.'

'Excellent!' cried Warren, standing up and patting the halfling energetically upon the back. I'll bring them here for breakfast!'

'Whoa!' shouted Tarny, as Warren disappeared to the hallway. 'You cannot go now! The soup's almost ready! besides, you'll never find your way back in that darkness!'

'Sorry,' said Warren as he stepped back to the kitchen. 'Got a bit excited there. Yes, I'd love to have some of that soup, and while we are eating you had better draw me a map.'


Stars were already twinking in the rapidly cooling evening as Warren Oakdraft finally got to his way. As he disappeared round the bend with his now brightly shining staff, Tarny sighed. It had been good to see his energetic young friend again, but disturbing too. Tarny could feel something new stirring in the air and he was not sure he liked the feel of it. Shivering slightly he retired back to his warm hole and locked the round door firmly behind him.

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Excerpt from the middle of the book...

Turk pushed his way between the friends at the edge of the wood. He peered at the ogres now nearing the copse en masse. 'Well now, my wizard laddie,' he rumbled, 'I would cast a spell upon the brutes if I was you. They'll soon be upon us see?'

Tarny pulled the longbeard back. 'That's what he was about to do,' he hissed, 'before you came in and broke his concentration. Now shut up!'

Warren had regained his composure. 'Naryhg, dniw fi uoy esaelp,' he intoned, and then blew the blue dust he was holding towards the nearing ogres. For a moment nothign happened. Then the copse roared. A powerful gust of wind bent the trees around them almost double and made them creak alarmingly. Then the gale hit the ogres. For a while they held, but then, one by one, they started tumbling backward towards the road and the beleguared waggon.

'Pretty good spell,' admitted Turk, a high praise indeed, coming from him. 'Not at par with a fireball, of course, but for a hedge wizard that was pretty impressive.'

Tarny ignored the longbeard. He was staring at Warren. 'What's wrong?' he shouted over the roar of the wind. 'You've gone all pale. Was the spell too much for you?'

Warren, leaning against a tree, shook his head. 'No,' he answered. 'I just felt, just as I released the spell, like there were another wizard in the vicinity. But surely...' Warren turned around to peer at the ogres. 'Oh no...'

'What!?!' cried the halfling

'Do you see that really fat ogre there?' Warren pointed.

'The one with a double, no, make that triple, chin and no gut plate?'

'That's the one. It's a shaman.'

'They have shamans, these ogres?'

'Yes. Not much is known of them, apart from the fact their animistic spells are extremely tricky to block. Oh no, it is reaching for it pouches! Tarny, quick! You used to be an excellent shot with that shortbow of yours. Put an arrow through the brute's hand before it can swallow the spell ingredients!'

Tarny pulled the shortbow he had had at the ready all the time. His old joints creaked in protest. It had been ages he had shot the bow last time. Hopefully the skill was still there. 'Here goes nothing,' he whispered and released the arrow.

The light wooden arrow passed the shaman by a mile. It was picked by the howling wind and tossed high into the morning air. Tarny sighed.

Suddenly there was a prolonged, rusty screech behind them. 'That is no way to shoot a bow,' Turk instructed with his infuriating calm. Stepping on to the edge of the wood, Turk lifted his old iron crossbow to his cheek and carefully aimed at the now happily munching ogre mage.

With a deep twang the steel bolt sped on it's way. Straight and true it flew, punching it's way clear through the shaman's left eye, embedding itself deep into it's brain. The brute fell, making the earth tremble as it hit the ground with an almighty thud.

'Tsk,' said the longbeard, and sniffed. Nodding towards Tarny he said, 'Now that's how its done. Next time, my halfling friend, remember to account for the wind. Now I do not know if you have noticed,' he continued, turning to the wizard, 'but that wind of yours seems to be slackening. If I were you, I would leaf through that spell book of yours and come up with something a bit more physical, if you know what I mean. While you do that, I give your friend here an archery lesson. Come, young Tarny, let's put some more of those brutes down!'

Tarny sighed again.

[Karu]

Turhan paljon parodiointia/kopiointia tolkienilta (mitä nyt otsikosta ja ekasta lauseesta päättelin). Black library julkaisee mun mielestä vaan kirjoja warhammer- ja 40k-maailmoista.

Hyvin kirjoitettu, ei siinä mitään. Uskon, että black libraryn kautta kirjansa julkaistuksi saamisessa on kylläkin enemmän kyse siitä, että teksti on oikeasti hyvää ja omaperäistä, eikä siitä, että sulla ois suhteita sinne päin.

People say I’m really talented. Can I write or draw for you?
If you really are talented, we’re happy to consider your art proposal. Send in three or four pieces to our publishing address, at least one of these must be based on Warhammer or Warhammer 40,000. For new authors, we run regular short story competitions, the winners of which are published in one of our novel anthologies. Keep an eye on our website for details of the next competition.

But I really want to write a novel for you!
You’re welcome to try one once we’re happy you can deliver the all-action mayhem we like. Do well in our short story competition and we’ll be far more favourably disposed to a novel proposal.

Onnea yritykseen!

[hullukoira]

Kopiointia? vain tuossa ekassa lauseessa! Ja nimi on work in progress, eli se muuttuisi. Mitä juoneen tulee, niin siinä ei olisi mitään Hobbitmaista.