View Full Version : A serial story: The Goatherd's son part I

05-24-02, 02:18 AM
I wrote this story a year ago, and the only person who has ever read it was the person I wrote it for her. Partly because I want to know if it is actually good and partly because i want to see if anyone even visits this forum I am going to post the story here in segment, I do not know how long it will take but here it begins:

There is a place where knights slay dragons, where ghosts haunt the night, and where goblins pillage villages. There is a place where heroes still go on noble quests, where magicians do more than rely on simple tricks, and the trees might even talk to a weary traveler. There is a place where amazement and wonder still exist, where good is glorious, and evil is despised. This place may be on another planet, in a far-flung past, another dimension, or just in the minds of men. It does not matter where this place exists, just that it does. It is the land of Giam. It is in this land that the immortal love tale of Naava and Tahir took place.
In a time that none can remember the great road was built. It runs from the ancient and crowded costal-city of Gull to the expansive, walled city of Bren on the great plain. North of the great road on the banks of the Great River lays the small village of Fande’. It was a simple village, but the life blood of the surrounding areas. The farmers from the countryside would trade their produce, the gnomes from the Gragen hills would peddle their goods, the dwarves from the Draglok mountains of the north would bring down their gems and ores, while travelers and adventures from afar would share their stories and escapades. Fande’ was an idyllic almost peaceful place. It was part of no kingdom and free from the tyrannical grip of an evil warlord. It was in this village that the two of this tale met.
Tahir was the humble son of an even humbler goatherd. Tahir had the look of innocence that comes with boyish youth. He had sandy brown hair that seemed to always be in his face, and green eyes that shone of idealism. Though at the age of eighteen he was hardly a boy anymore . . . at least in theory. His mother was convinced he would never grow up, and that was probably true.
“Tahir get down from there!” she scolded.
Tahir peaked over the edge and looked down the rock face, knowing the tone of her voice meant he was in a bit of trouble. “Yes mother?” he replied as naively as possible.
His mother sighed, realizing that boys will be boys. “Please get down from there! I can not bear the thought of you being hurt. Also I need you to deliver some things for me.”
Tahir rolled his eyes and slowly climbed back down to the grassy field where his mother was. He barely paid attention as he was told to take three wedges of cheese to Grom the blacksmith as payment for the new pot he gave them. Tahir mopped to the stable and got on his black and white spotted horse. While his attitude and general way of moving would have lead one to believe that this was just too much of a hassle for him, he was actually excited about running this little errand. Tahir loved to go to Fande’ even if it was just a small village. It still appealed to his sense of adventure, all the different peoples, the dwarves, the travelers with grandiose tales. He enjoyed it all. Especially, when he got to go by himself and did not have to be with his parents. Tahir rode slowly down the small dirt path along the rolling hills that led to the village of Fande.
Naava sat bored out of her mind as her adopted father, the Reverend Goodon, did his morning street preaching. He had explained to her several times how important it was for him to do this so that the travelers could hear about the love of the all knowing, all great God. Despite, her father’s explanations she did not understand why she had to accompany him. After all she was nearly seventeen and more than capable of taking care of her self. Naava glanced over her shoulder and a scow crossed over her face. It was not just the boredom that bothered her it was the constant gossiping by the good wives about her.
She was different than the other villagers. So what? What did it matter that her skin was a darker complexion or that her hair was a dark black? Just because the ancient Friar Yancy said that she had Elven heritage somewhere in her line, did they have to treat her like an outsider? They are just jealous of me Naava told her self, because I’m pettier than they ever were. While that was most defiantly true, for Naava possessed great beauty, telling herself that did not make Naava feel any better. All she really wanted was to be accepted.
Unfortunately for Naava, she was not the only one to notice her beauty. Two unsavory figures from the near mythical city of Fanastia also took notice and decided that she would make a most excellent prize. Especially since the only thing between them and her was an old priest.
“How is your horse holding up?”asked Grom the town’s blacksmith in an attempt to make small talk with Tahir.
“Perfectly sir. I hope you enjoy the cheese. Good day.”
Tahir started to ride away from the blacksmith shop, as he heard the droning of Reverend Goodon in the background. He did not pay much attention to the holy man’s voice. However, the sound of running horses did get his attention. Tahir brought his steed around and what he saw was like something out of a bad dream or a story book. Two ill-kempt men dressed in the garb of those from the south, charged at Reverend Goodon nearly trampling him, and grabbing his adopted daughter. One of the men forcibly held the girl while the other cut down the town watchman as they fled through the city gates.
Tahir would never be able to explain what possessed him to follow them. At the time he did not even know the girl, he had only overheard some of the good wives gossiping about her. He did not know if it was an inner sense of honor and courage, a want to be a hero, or power from above, something caused young Tahir, armed only with a sling, to give chase to the two rouges. Had it not been for the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through the boy’s body he would have been overcome with fear, but Tahir pressed on. He fumbled for a stone in his sling pouch and loaded the creek pebble into the sling and let it fly. Tahir’s aim was true and it hit the man carrying Naava. The rock did not knock him off the horse but it jarred him enough to loosen his grip on Naava and she slid away, crashing to the ground. At this point, Tahir began to rethink the decision of chasing after the two, because they both reared their horses around to face Tahir while drawing their swords. Tahir did not know what to do. Should he run? But then what about the girl? Should he fight? But he would surely lose. In his panic Tahir lost control of his mount, and the horse reared up. Tahir crashed to the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs. As he gasped for breath, he heard the two assailants laughing and trotting slowly towards him. Tahir tried to pick himself up, but one of the men struck him hard across the face which send Tahir back down to the grassy earth. Tahir was sure that this would be the end of him, and a fear like none he had ever experienced seized him. Then he heard the trumpet of a general call to arms and the beating of several horse hooves on the earth. The attackers heard it as well, with all their bravado and cruelness the two men were at heart nothing but cowards. Not wanting to fight the good people of the town and countryside, they abandoned the two youth and fled as fast as they could make their mounts go. Tahir tried to stand up feeling dizzy and incredibly queasy as the adrenaline rush crashed. Tahir kept his footing and stumbled over to the girl, who was also picking herself up.
Naava turned her head to see Tahir. Their eyes met and magic happened. Magic is perhaps the best word for it. Because like magic it really cannot be explained. Though this is something that a sorcerer could never wield, or that can be reenacted by reading a simple spell. In the few seconds that the eyes of Tahir and Naava met something unexplainable and wonderful happened. The atmosphere around them at the moment could never be fully explained in words, though poets have tried many times. In that one perfect moment, at the meetings of eyes Tahir and Naava fell in love. Both youth stammered for words.
“ .. . Are- Are u all, alright miss?” Tahir finally stuttered out.
“Y- yes . . . Thank you f-for your br-br-bravery kind sir.” Naava nervously replied. Both youth embarrassed by their nonsensical use of adult manners and politeness gazed at the ground before they both looked at each other again smiling. Before either could speak another word the townspeople answering the distress call arrived. They instantly reunited Naava with her stepfather, while the men started to question Tahir about what took place. However, the eyes of the two young adults stayed locked together for several seconds, the feelings being broadcast along the connecting glance, so deep, so personal, were undetectable to others. Then the attentions of both were snapped away by their elders.
Tahir returned home escorted by Grom the blacksmith who re-told his parents the boy’s exploits. It was obvious by the look on his mother’s face that she desperately wanted to scold her son for such foolishness, but she could not because she was to proud of her son, who was so willing to put himself in danger to help others. Perhaps even more proud of Tahir was his father, who’s eyes almost swelled up with tears when he was told of his son’s heroics. Tahir and his family stayed up late into the night talking to the kindly blacksmith, who told other heroic tales of the old times when Elves still lived among men. Eventually, the blacksmith made his farewells, Tahir’s father put out the fire and the sleepy family retired for the night

05-26-02, 12:13 AM
I like it very much!! Can i read more of it please.

05-27-02, 11:32 AM
Wow a kindred spirit... I write just like that. I felt like I was reading one of my storys. :)

I would contribute them but none of them are finished. I have a problem of finishing storys.

anyways. great job.