Good night, readers! I'm continuing a story proposed by @themagus - trying a different style of writing.

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So, yeah. It's been a while that I owe @themagus the continuation of his story and here it is - better late than never, right? This story started as his initiative to create a collaboration writing of a novelette, which is a story of between 7500 and 17 500 words.

Below you'll have access to the starting post:

Creative Writing Project - Collaboration

I gotta say that it was a real challenge for me, as I admittedly am not an avid fiction reader, nor am I a proper writer. However, I found it to be quite awesome from the creativity perspective, writing something like this requires a lot of imagination to picture the characters, where they live and contexts. Kudos to George R.R Martin and J.R.R. Tolkien. Why do they love R.R, can I call myself Mr. R.R Professor?

Anyways, here it is. The first part has been written by @themagus and the second by me. Is that your turn @twolittlebirds?

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^{Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash}

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She sat huddled up on the rocky outcrop arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, chin resting on her knees. Her face was sometimes pensive, at other times wistful but at all times beautiful as she gazed off into the far distance in deep thought.

The focus of her gaze as well as her thoughts was off in the distance; a usually bustling city but quiet at this early hour, surrounded by huge stone walls with guard towers at regular intervals. Huge wooden gates controlled the only entrance with guards in attendance, scrutinising people coming and going, pulling the odd person aside for questioning as to their business in the city. Asgoroth was at war and Asmoroth was the capital and host to the King and his royal family, thus always liable for attack and incursions by dissenters.

Ziona’s mind was in a turmoil, flipping between hope and fear and bursts of trepidation. After all, the journey she started so long ago was now almost at an end. Was it all in vain or would her arduous journey full of trials and tribulations prove to be justified?

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The village nestled in the valley, high cliffs to the north and mountain slopes rising both east and west. Only from the south could one easily approach and the access path was protected by village dwellers at all times, as well as the dog pack which roamed in the fields immediately outside the village.

As the first rays of light appeared in the east Zarrot stepped from his hut crouching under the burden of the village ‘cazan’; the vessel used to prepare the villagers food. Manhandling the pot into the centre of the village square the thought crossed his mind that he was getting old, ‘surely the pot was never this heavy’. Sometime soon he would have to appoint a successor, a decision which would need some serious thought as with the position came authority, as well as responsibility, both of which in the wrong hands could be abused and hence threaten the survival of his people.

Stacking the firewood in readiness Zarrot considered some of the possible candidates, regretting the fact that Ziona,being a woman, was not an option. Such intelligence and spirit of will tempered by humility and a wisdom way beyond her years made her a perfect choice for leader, especially as she was respected and loved by almost all the inhabitants of the valley.

This part has been written by @themagus

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This is my part.

Coming from a notorious family, Ziona had been the only daughter in a family of men, whose bravery and strategic mind have been always respected. Her parents got married in difficult times many moons ago on top of the high hills where the village is located. All those lands had been defended by Zarrot along with Ziona's father for many years, until her father sucumbed to sadness. 

Daewron, was Ziona's father. A man who eternally bittered the loss of his wife, whose death occurred giving birth to Ziona - A secret he kept at all costs away from his children. In the family there were also two older brothers. Lothar, The Prodigy, used to live in his father's steps to learn how to hunt, a task that granted the meat supply during the harsh winters in the village. Ortis, the older brother, became by tradition a soldier loyal to Zarrot.

Ortis lived like his dad's past years, he was constantly seeking adventure on the road where the merchants travelled from south to north on their large ox-drawn carts. All kinds of goods were transported there, and sometimes the King of Asgoroth himself used to ride firmly on his black horse; at that time Zarrot kept the village safe and neutral in relation to the tensions between South and North. A strategy that granted their survivability for decades.

The traditions of the people of the valley had been maintained for many generations, and the difficulty of access kept them safe during all these centuries of war and peace between North and South. They knew that there would never be battalions trying to invade, no one dared to risk attacking a village so well protected like that. In the most difficult times Zarrot had groups of sentinels, who cleverly, would detect the presence of looters and repel them - it was in one of these groups that Ortis led, applying all his hunting techniques that his father had taught him one day.

The years simply passed for Daewron, he had left the battles behind. All he wanted was to survive from the mother nature's gifts, that way maintaining his two children, isolated from any problems that happened in the capital Asmoroth. All he knew used to be told by Ortis, when he'd pass by the house during the sentinels break.

     - Father, tensions increase every day with the southern reigns. - said Ortis.

     - Hmmm ... - Daewron murmured. He was paying attention while he sharpened his little hunting knife. Deep down, for him, the problems between South and North did not affect his life. And if there was anyone to take care of these matters, this should be Zarrot, his old battle friend who was now the village's leader.

Daewron acted as a listener while Ortis spoke, he knew that a war would never get that far and he also knew that he was safe in the village. A thought he'd later discover to be wrong.

To be continued ....

Next up @twolittlebirds, please include the links on top of your chapter!

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Thanks for reading, if you are interested in participating check out @themagus post on top of this blog. Also leave a comment giving your thoughts downbelow.

If you liked this post, please, consider leaving your upvote for a hot coffee.

~Love ya all,

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Disclaimer:  The author of this post is a convict broke backpacker, who has travelled more than 10.000 km hitchhiking. Following him may cause severe problems of wanderlust and inquietud. You've been warned.

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I'm Arthur. I blog about Adventure Stories, Brazil, Travel, Camping & Life Experiences.

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