Created 1145475720 by Mithandir in category Snippets


Up here it defined everything. Up here it was king and master.


It shook and caressed. Pushed and pulled. And Mella danced.


It raced up the hill flanks. Twisted and turned around the rocks. Collided with itself and thwirled, knotted.


It pounded and roared but Mella stepped lightly, barely touching the stone.


Mella jumped and turned as the wind pulled her loose robes. She landed softly on one leg, crouching and letting the wind turn her. Her arms stretched out.


It was the dance, defined the pattern. It sang no song but gave the rhythm. Here on the spire-tip it was inescapable.


The abyss loomed below and above and the wind pushed both ways. One hand on the ground, Mella tumbled in place then stretched up.


The dance wasn’t freedom, it was the opposite: one step wrong and it all would end.

But as the wind whipped her limbs in position, as she flowed with and not against like a graceful puppet on strings of air, as she thought all this … Mella was free nonetheless.

Magical lights (from an untitled moonlight story)

Created 1139783160 by Mithandir in category Snippets

Below him two spots of light appeared. Imr quickly put the letter away and with a wave extinguished the were-light. It was starting.

Slowly the spots moved, tracing a line of light behind them that was not unlike the were-light. He wondered if anybody in the city could see it. Somebody must have, once, the letter proved that. He watched on as the light crept, circling the city until it formed a ring of magical light shining upwards like tiny drops of light falling towards the sky. New lines formed, tracing the streets of old, drawing a map of the ancient city in golden light.

Hmmm ....
I may be overusing that imagery, I guess. Not quite sattisfied with the flow

Tho I have pretty good faith in the resolution of this story, the middle lacks plot (which is why I haven't gotten on with it yet).

This bit is from near the start

Regarding snippets

Created 1139696220 by Mithandir in category Snippets

A little bit of explanation about this "snippets" category of the blog might be helpful at this point, I guess. Not that much is needed. This category is simply where I paste snippets from stories I'm writing. Often they'll be parts I like or parts I'm strugling with and would like an opinion on. Sometimes they're part of stories I've all but abandoned but that I wanted to share at least bits from. Sometimes they're just things I wrote on the train, or half asleep on the laptop. Sometimes they reflect how I'm feeling. Sometimes they don't mean anything. Sometimes they just are. Sometimes I'll put commentary in the posts. You'll be able to tell the difference between story and commentary easily: the story has a thick line on the left (as you can see in the snippet below).

Whatever they are, feel free to comment on them. I'm always trying to get better and any critisism or praise is always greatly appreciated.

Comments on these snippets may convince me to continue the story they're from or to change it, or give me new ideas.

The power of names (from "To Be King", UC)

Created 1139695080 by Mithandir in category Snippets

"Very well, Reinhardt." He paused for a moment. The boy had phrased his question cleverly, asking not only his name but also whether there was danger ahead. "Do you know the power of names, Reinhardt?" he asked, avoiding for now a straight answer. "It is said that if you know a person's real name you have power over them. This is said to be especially true for mages which is why a wizard protects his name."

The boy nodded. He had learned that from one of his other teachers.

"You do not trust me then, arch mage?"

"Oh of course I trust you, my liege. With my life and limb. However knowing my name is dangerous and I do not wish to imperil you. Besides there is little truth to the tale."

The boy frowned. "If it isn't true, why do you hide your name?"

"Because others believe it is true and as long as they spend time trying to find my name, they aren't trying to kill me otherwise. In truth there is no magical power in words, but they have a power of their own which sometimes is greater than any spell."

"But ... the spells are words too, aren't they? Or ..." the boy looked into the smiling eyes of the old wizard "Or are the words just there to distract from the real power of the spell?"

"Now you are starting to understand."

The whispers of moonlight

Created 1138794540 by Mithandir in category Snippets

Imr looked up. The moon was whispering to him. It was audible only to him, singing a soft song of mystery. Words flowed, teasing like moonlight reflecting on the water of a small but fast river. He smiled and reached out, not to the moon itself but to its silvery light, catching it in his hand. As he did so, it solidified, changing from mere light to a liquid of energy that floated above his palm. Stretching his other arm, he gently waved his other hand around the magic. He never touched it, but as he moved, it followed gently and he sculpted it so into the form of a large butterfly. When he was done he drew his hand close to his face and blew gently. The butterfly of light flapped its wings, circled his head and then flew off, bopping merrily in the warm air.

There were more efficient ways of sending a message by magic, but none matched this for beauty.

He looked at it go for a while, and then sat down. It would take a while for his little creation to deliver its message and then longer still for its recipient to make her way here. She would come, of course. He didn't doubt that.

As he waited, he created a little bird of light. It hopped off to a higher branch of the tree they shared, shedding drops of yellow light like misty rain.