Endurance Of Hope

[Finway]

Endurance of Hope

 

Sevren impaled the ground with his sturdy, iron hoe as the warm evening sun of spring beat down upon his back. A boy of twenty two, he lived with his parents on the family farm- or else it could be said that they lived with him. His parents were both nearing the age of retirement, and were very frail, so most of the work around the house and the farm was done by him. The youngest of five boys, each of Sevren’s four older brothers had left and joined the great war raging all around the world, yet nothing had been heard of them since.

 

The war had taken nearly everything from them. Although it had begun nearly a millennia before his birth, the fighting had not spread to his family’s simple valley region until a decade and a half ago. Saradomin’s badly under funded forces were barely managing to keep the battles and skirmishes away as Bandos’ hordes of goblins and other monstrosities ravaged the countryside. Desperate, the generals had used fear tactics in an attempt to gain even more from the peasants than what the already heavy taxes could supply. Donation collectors practically forced simple peasants to give away their money, threatening that their sons, husbands or fathers would die otherwise.

 

Sevren began walking back to the farm as his working day was mostly over. The family had three areas that they planted- one field to the north, another to the west, and a small pasture to the south. It was his duty as the only son to sow and plant the fields, and, when harvest time came, to reap the abundance. As he opened to the door, his father greeted him from the kitchen. He was sitting at the table while Sevren’s mother paced around the cabinets, attempting to find something to prepare for dinner.

 

“Sevren, how goes the planting?” came the deep, grumbling and scratchy voice of his father.

“Good,” Sevren replied collectively. “I nearly finished tilling the south field, so tomorrow I should get it planted.”

“Great,” Sevren’s father stated as his mother set a warm plate of bread, meat and eggs in front of him. Sevren sat down, and his mother put down two more plates of food, one in front of him and one at her assigned place. After they said their blessings to Saradomin and ate their food, Sevren glanced up at the mantle place and saw his father’s award. It was not a prize for killing a hundred goblins, nor killing a dozen goblins, nor killing a single goblin. It was a rose in a simple glass container that his father had won at the market seventeen years ago for having the best harvest of all the farmers.

 

Despite the fact that his four older brothers had joined the war, Sevren’s family was not composed of warriors. Every generation for hundreds of years had been farmers, up until Bandos had launched the offensive against his valley over a decade ago. It was then that his brothers took up arms to defend their homeland. When Sevren was finished eating, he slowly walked up the stairs in his home towards his bedroom where he retired for the night.

 

The next day, the young farmer woke up as usual. By dawn he had already eaten and was walking through the fields to plant wheat and corn for the war, his town and his family. At noon, his mother came out to bring him his lunch.

“Sevren! I brought you something to eat!” she called out. The young man gave an effort to jog to his mother.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the meat and bread she handed to him.

“How goes the planting?”

“It’s alright, I should have it all finished by today. Then, all we need to do is make sure it’s watered until the harvest comes.”

“That may be hard when the summer’s heart rolls in,” his mother added, smiling.

“Hey!” the scratchy voice of his father yelled from the house. Sevren and his mother looked back and saw him pointing towards the cliffs to the east. Smoke was quickly rising, and Sevren’s brows furrowed. His mother screamed.

“The war is coming here!” she cried out. “Sevren, go back into the house! Get your father and flee! Flee!”

The boy ran into the house, his mother lagging behind.

“Father, get out of there! Go south with mother! You must get to safety!”

“Sevren, you’re coming with us!” his father ordered.

“No, I need to fight them off!” he protested.

“You’re a farmer, not a warrior!”

Just as his mother reached the front step of the house, a massive fire bolt smashed into the side of their farm house. The tremor that followed the blast knocked all three off of their feet.

“Mother, father, let’s go then!”

“Sevren,” his father muttered, the wind knocked out of him from the fall. His mother was rasping for air as well. The aging man extended his arm towards his son, not motioning for him to help him up but as a sign of farewell. “Flee…be safe!”

“Father, no!”

“Go…” his father added, panting. Tears streaming down his cheeks and his whole body shaking, Sevren dashed out. As soon as he reached the front door, another spell struck his home. He looked back, and amidst the wreckage and flames were the remains of his two parents. Crying his eyes out, he began running.

 

Sevren then turned and saw the monster that had caused him the pain and agony of his parent’s death: a large, seven foot tall hobgoblin magician that was bearing a mighty wooden staff. Surrounding him were several other, small creatures. Although he had never seen any of these creatures, he somehow knew they were goblins, whether it was from their war cries he had heard of in bed time stories as a child or the way they ran and waved their spears. Boldly fighting off the horde were several steel-clad knights of Saradomin. “Kill them! Kill the goblin infidels!” he screamed, as loud as he possibly could. Sevren then realized how foolish he was to say such a thing, for he caught the attention of several war-clad goblins. Trembling from fear, a sensation that seemed new to him, he ran as fast as he could, and soon he was amongst the trees and underbrush of the forest.

 

The young farmer looked both ways. He could hear the war cries from the goblins, but sometimes it seemed as if they were coming from all around him. Suddenly, one of the short, green-skinned creatures sprang from the weeds underneath the trees and tackled him. Attempting to get away, Sevren punched the goblin in the face, but his blow was easily dodged. Then, the monstrosity pulled out a knife and attempted to stab the boy. Then, springing from the same bush the goblin had come from, a bright-armored white knight with a large, shining broadsword leapt out and slashed the creature’s back. Giving a cry of agony, it breathed it’s last and fell over.

 

For a few seconds, the knight simply glared at the farmer, who was in a state of shock and terror. As the proud warrior turned around, another fire bolt smashed into the knight, blackening his bright white armor and burning Sevren’s arm.

“ARGHH!!!” he cried out, rubbing his arm in the moist dirt at his feet. He then realized that he had made a mistake: any sound could attract the enemies to him. With one more glanced at the fallen knight, he ran, faster and faster every second, to the nearby stream.

 

Although the creek was several miles from his home, Sevren reached it in a matter of minutes. Panting and out of breath, he curled up next the moving body of water for a few minutes before he could gather the energy to drink, his burnt limb lazily allowing the liquid relief to run over it. When he did so, he felt refreshed, but along with renewal came the despair over what he had lost: his family, his home and his very livelihood. His tears were short lived, for once more he heard the cry of war. Although it seemed to be fading away, he did not wish to risk his life. He huddled under some bushes where he once more let his arm lie in the wet mud. There, he tried to forget about his past, a silly attempt to null and dim the pain of losing those so close. Fighting to gain control of his emotions, Sevren was lost into the night.

 

The young farmer awoke the next morning, at first puzzled why his surroundings were not the walls and windows he had known in his own home; instead, they were replaced with bare earth and vegetation, several trees rising high above the clearing. Then, reality struck Sevren in the cold and harsh manner that it comes about as he recalled his father and mother’s bodies lying lifeless on the ground, struck dead by Bandos’ magicians.

“No!” he cried, falling to his knees and grabbing the mud in handfuls, just to throw them back at the earth. Then, he stopped, realizing that there might still be goblins about. He looked all around him and stood as still as a stone: nothing. He heard nothing and saw no signs of the carnage that had occurred the previous day and night. Catching his sense of direction, he began walking back the tedious trek to what once was his home.

 

As the young man reached the large pastures that he once sowed and harvest annually, he beheld the smoldering ashes of his home. He raced up to it, desperately searching through the smoldering carnage for any sign of his parents; it wasn’t that he wanted to find them, it was that he didn’t want to find them. That way, they might still be alive, at least in his imagination. Suddenly, Sevren’s search came to a close as he discovered, underneath several black, ash-laden boards, the burning corpses of his parents.

 

With tears flowing like a river over rapids and his sobs echoing throughout the valley, Sevren no longer cared. Each second passed was like another wave of insensitivity crashing upon the shores of emotion.

“I hate you!” he screamed, the farmer himself not sure if the statement was directed at Bandos, the goblins, or the very river of life itself.

 

He began tearing through the wreckage, allowing his anger to run wild like a tiger upon a gazelle that had already been brought down. He grabbed a blackened plank and smashed it against the ruins, again and again, not even stopping when he remembered the agony his arm had suffered the night before. Sevren threw the wooden board down only to grab fistfuls of the debris that littered the area. He didn’t care anymore, he could only pick the smoldering remains of his life and throw them against the ground. Then, after throwing a handful of rubble down, he heard the shattering of glass.

 

Curious, Sevren approached the wreckage. He soon located the spot where he heard the glass break, and he began rustling through the area. He found a shard of glass which he picked up, only to be cut when his finger mistakenly glided across the edge. He threw it down, more determined than ever to avenge his parents‘ deaths, when he saw the rose that his father had won. It was not a prize for killing a hundred goblins, nor killing a dozen goblins, nor killing a single goblin. His father had won it for being a farmer and doing what he was meant to do. At that moment, all thoughts of revenge and anger left him, and his tears flowing into the ocean of despair ceased. He no longer had time to unleash his anger or to cry, for he would rebuild, and nothing would slow his progress.

Edited October 21, 2009 by Finway

[Fake]

I like it as it is, this was a really great entry and it was hard to decide between this and the other. Nice job.

[Finway]

Thank you, Fake. ;)

[Guest Emanick]

I can't remember if I voted this for first, second or third place! :lol: Still, excellent job, and you certainly deserved second.

 

The description was great; Sevren was well-defined and realistic. It was also touching and I loved the spirit you gave it.

 

One problem I have with the story is how the invasion seems kind of random, without much buildup. We know something will happen, we can guess what, but there isn't any momentum. Still, I suppose that would be hard to do in such a short tale, and perhaps it was for the best.

 

The knights also seem somewhat inconsequential. They make no real impact on the events, and don't leave much impression on our minds. If one or two lines were just spoken by them, it would be a lot easier.

 

I have a confession to make - I went sixty to seventy words over the limit. :P (I trusted that if Fake objected, he would tell me so I could edit a little out, but I didn't feel I could do so without harming the narrative.) So I'm sure you would be pardoned if you added a little dialogue to the catastrophe, especially now that the contest is over!

 

Anyway, again, excellent job. The minor problems with this do little to take away from its readability and pleasant flow! ;)

[Fake]

I can't remember if I voted this for first, second or third place! :lol: Still, excellent job, and you certainly deserved second.

 

The description was great; Sevren was well-defined and realistic. It was also touching and I loved the spirit you gave it.

 

One problem I have with the story is how the invasion seems kind of random, without much buildup. We know something will happen, we can guess what, but there isn't any momentum. Still, I suppose that would be hard to do in such a short tale, and perhaps it was for the best.

 

The knights also seem somewhat inconsequential. They make no real impact on the events, and don't leave much impression on our minds. If one or two lines were just spoken by them, it would be a lot easier.

 

I have a confession to make - I went sixty to seventy words over the limit. :P (I trusted that if Fake objected, he would tell me so I could edit a little out, but I didn't feel I could do so without harming the narrative.) So I'm sure you would be pardoned if you added a little dialogue to the catastrophe, especially now that the contest is over!

 

Anyway, again, excellent job. The minor problems with this do little to take away from its readability and pleasant flow! ;)

I remember you voted it first.

[Finway]

:P Still, excellent job, and you certainly deserved second.

Why I oughta....

 

Thanks for the review (and for voting me first! :lol:) but I will definitely run through this story and fix the errors you presented.

 

...that said, how does anybody think that this compares to my other short stories? Better? Worse? Typical? Please tell me. ;)

[Fake]

:P Still, excellent job, and you certainly deserved second.

Why I oughta....

 

Thanks for the review (and for voting me first! :P ) but I will definitely run through this story and fix the errors you presented.

 

...that said, how does anybody think that this compares to my other short stories? Better? Worse? Typical? Please tell me. ;)

 

I knew I forgot to quote something. Emanick is being his usual self with that post :lol:

 

That said I think this one was a little better than Stories, seeing that you brought Saradomin's concepts into it as well. But I long for the day when you make a story with a "Magical Like Substance which empowers the user to do superhuman feats." Aka: New Concept ;).

[Finway]

Perhaps. I'm still fascinated by the concept of the Mahjarrat, so expect some more godwars/Zarosian stories for a while.

[Guest Emanick]

I think I like your longer work better by quite a bit, but this is also great. The only little issue is that you don't have room to flesh out the characters or make a realistic background in so few words, but that's obviously the result of word constraints, not your literary ability.

 

I'm not sure what I liked better, this or Stories. This was more touching, but Stories seemed a bit deeper. They had similar quality, though (albeit this seemed a little un-fleshed out, like I said).

[Finway]

Thank you for the comparison, Emanick. And please check out the Desert Campaign thread I started! ;)

[-CoSMIC Gears-]

Awww Emanick went over the word count? Cheater! :P

 

I agree with Emanick though, the plot was exciting, the minor problems not mattering. But, if you erase them, it would give the foundation of your story something to not worry about!

 

I'm sorry to say this, but one of your mistakes made me laugh. ^_^

 

At noon, his mother came out to bring him his lunch.

“Sevren! I got your dinner!” she called out.

 

:) Sorry...... pretty straightforward though.

 

"came the deep, grumbling and scratchy voice of his father."

I think it's better to use: "came the deep, grumbling, scratchy voice of his father."

 

the wind knocked out of him !!!form!!! the fall.

Spelling Finway... :D you know better :P

 

"Panting and out of breath, he curled up next the moving body of water for a few minutes before he could gather the energy to drink, his burnt limb lazily allowing the liquid relief to run over it."

Either a run on sentence or you need "with his burnt..."

 

Anyway, now that's over, I agree with Emanick, the explosion was sorta random...... but oh well. :D I thoguht the ending was a little quick too, maybe lengthen it?

 

Overall, good job.

Edited October 21, 2009 by rabbitfuzzy0

[Finway]

Thank you for leaving a comment and CC! However:

"came the deep, grumbling and scratchy voice of his father."

I think it's better to use: "came the deep, grumbling, scratchy voice of his father."

I've always been a fan of putting an 'and' in a list, even if it is a list of adjectives.

 

"Panting and out of breath, he curled up next the moving body of water for a few minutes before he could gather the energy to drink, his burnt limb lazily allowing the liquid relief to run over it."

That's not a run-on, silly.

Edited October 21, 2009 by Finway

[Fake]

Awww Emanick went over the word count? Cheater! :P

 

I agree with Emanick though, the plot was exciting, the minor problems not mattering. But, if you erase them, it would give the foundation of your story something to not worry about!

 

I'm sorry to say this, but one of your mistakes made me laugh. ^_^

 

At noon, his mother came out to bring him his lunch.

"Sevren! I got your dinner!" she called out.

 

:) Sorry...... pretty straightforward though.

 

"came the deep, grumbling and scratchy voice of his father."

I think it's better to use: "came the deep, grumbling, scratchy voice of his father."

 

the wind knocked out of him !!!form!!! the fall.

Spelling Finway... :D you know better :P

 

"Panting and out of breath, he curled up next the moving body of water for a few minutes before he could gather the energy to drink, his burnt limb lazily allowing the liquid relief to run over it."

Either a run on sentence or you need "with his burnt..."

 

Anyway, now that's over, I agree with Emanick, the explosion was sorta random...... but oh well. :D I thoguht the ending was a little quick too, maybe lengthen it?

 

Overall, good job.

He'll never lengthen it... ever.

[Finway]

I believe this is a different scenario: I might edit the ending. I just won't continue it with another add-on. It's a short story, yet it's still a complete one, and I need to respect that as the author.