The Storyteller
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- Mar 18, 2014
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Hello all! I posted the opening to this novel quite some time ago, received some excellent criticism, and now, another revision through the novel, I thought I'd put it through the test again.
Thanks in advance.
Mulgrin stood proudly, brandishing his fierce sword in front of him. The bug-eyed monster stared at him, slimy green skin glistening in the light. A damsel with a tear-stained face stood nearby, wide eyes turning from the monster to the gnome that now stood boldly before it.
“Fear not, fair maiden!” Mulgrin cried. “I will slay the beast!”
The damsel gazed at him, her face filling with awe. A crowd had gathered behind her, and they cheered exuberantly as Mulgrin attacked the creature. With a mighty battle cry, Mulgrin leaped at the monster, swinging his sword and—
“Mulgrin!”
The dry voice broke into Mulgrin’s fantasy, shattering the illusion. The sword in the gnomeling’s hands transformed back into a plain old stick, and the great monster returned to its original frog form and hopped away, unharmed and completely uninterested. The cheering crowd and the maiden vanished, replaced by the assortment of curious forest creatures that had gathered at the edge of the small pond to watch Mulgrin’s antics.
Mulgrin was once more in Genmar, knee deep in slimy, smelly slough water.
Master Cobbin clucked his tongue disapprovingly, and Mulgrin’s attention was drawn to the old wizard behind him.
“I am not a fair maiden, nor am I afraid,” he said dryly. “And there are no monsters here that need slaying; only waterweed that needs picking. Now stop flinging that basket about and get to filling it; goodness knows, you’ve lost half of what you had with all that flailing about.”
Mulgrin glanced into his basket and was chastened to see his master was right; almost all of the waterweed and been flung from the basket during his imaginary fight.
Dolefully, he set to collecting the scattered plants floating on the water around him. Why did it have to be waterweed? He looked glumly at the slimy black weeds in his hands. The smell of stagnant water filled his nose, and he couldn’t help but grimace with each step in the murky, algae-filled pond.
“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Mulgrin sighed. “You know there are herbalist shops where you can buy things like this, don’t you?”
“You cannot always rely on shops to get what you need,” answered Master Cobbin. “And if you want to be a wizard, then a more practical education is required.”
“But when are you ever going to teach me something useful?” Mulgrin asked, dangling the limp weed in his hand for a moment before dropping it in the basket.
“I am teaching you something useful,” the elderly wizard replied, bending down to root out a waterweed. Cobbin’s robes were tucked up into his belt, revealing knobby knees and thin legs that stuck out of the murky water like sticks. His basket was already nearly overflowing with the black weed, each piece laid one at a time in careful layers. Algae had stained Cobbin’s tan robes, but he seemed to neither notice nor care.
Mulgrin skimmed the last of his dropped waterweed from the pond’s surface, studying the dripping clump dubiously. “I don’t see how. It’s not like any hero ever needed to go tromping into a slough for weeds before.” He dropped the offending handful of weeds unceremoniously into his basket.
Cobbin studied his weed briefly before setting it atop his pile. “A wise wizard learns what he can and uses what he knows.”
“And when on a Quest would I ever use waterweed?”
Master Cobbin frowned at him. “Really Mulgrin! Waterweed is a necessary ingredient for many potions. If you paid any attention at all, you’d know that. You won’t get far in Wizard-Dumm without at least a basic knowledge of potions.”
“But I’m no good at potions,” Mulgrin replied glumly. For some reason all his attempts at potion brewing were disasters. Instead of curing boils, Mulgrin’s potion had turned his skin green, and instead of putting him, his sleeping potion had made his ears buzz for days.
“You might be if you spent a little more time studying and a little less time daydreaming,” Cobbin admonished.
Mulgrin sighed. “I do try Master. Honest. But it all seems so pointless. Weeds and seeds and roots and leaves; not a thing about fighting monsters or saving damsels!”
“I do wish you’d get all that nonsense out of your head Mulgrin," Cobbin said sharply. "Not everything useful is showy and grand like in your stories. Knowing how to find and properly treat herbs is just as important—if not more so—than knowing how to swing a sword… And a good deal more beneficial, I might add."
“I’d much rather learn how to swing a sword,” Mulgrin said eagerly. “Couldn’t you teach me Master?”
“I most certainly could not,” Master Cobbin said with a snort. “I don’t know what’s sillier, a gnomeling like you trying to learn swordplay or an old codger like me trying to teach it! Frankly, I’ve never used a sword in my life, and I don’t plan to start now.”
“But you’re a wizard!” Mulgrin objected, eyes wide. “Surely you’ve used a sword before!”
“Surely not,” Cobbin said curtly. “A staff is all any good wizard ever needed. Sword fighting is quite impractical. Plant lore, on the other hand, is practical and pertinent to a wizard’s life.”
“But what of the Quest?” Mulgrin urged. “Plant lore is all well and good, but it’s not going to do much for me when I go. You can’t slay monsters with waterweed, or rescue damsels with pipsroot. Shouldn't you teach me things to help me on my Quest?”
Master Cobbin paused, glancing up at his eager apprentice. Slowly, he rooted out another waterweed and set it carefully in his basket. “Not all wizards go on a Quest Mulgrin,” he said, sounding somewhat hesitant.
“All the good ones do,” Mulgrin replied. “Everyone knows that the Quest is the most important part of a wizard’s training. You’ve said so yourself!”
“It is not strictly speaking essential,” Master Cobbin said. “Not all novices choose to go on a Quest, and those that do don’t necessarily succeed, or even find one. For some, it is perhaps better to take the examinations…”
Mulgrin’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at his master, dumbfounded. “The examinations? But you’ve always said that the examinations are an awful idea!”
“What I said was that they weren’t ideal,” the old wizard corrected pointedly. “The Quest may be the best way to get into Wizard-Dumm, but it is not the only way. It is important to consider all options when facing any task, even those options which we find less appealing.”
“You aren’t saying I should consider taking the examination, surely!”
Master Cobbin did not answer, or even look at Mulgrin. Instead, he rubbed his brow, looking very weary and more than a little unhappy.
“That is what you’re saying, isn’t it,” Mulgrin said, eyes widening with disbelief.
“All I’m saying is it may be time to look at your options,” Master Cobbin said finally.
“My options?” Mulgrin demanded. “You know that all I’ve ever wanted is to go on my Quest and become a hero!”
“Yes, of course I know that,” Cobbin snapped, irritated now. “Good heavens gnomeling, you’ve spoken of nothing else since I apprenticed you! But it is the unfortunate nature of life that we don’t always get what we want, no matter how desperately we want it.”
“I don’t understand… You’ve always told me how important the Quest is! Why would you change your mind now?”
“Mulgrin,” Cobbin replied, “not everyone is suited for a Quest. The truth of it is, I’m not sure there is a Quest for you. Not one that will get you into Wizard-Dumm. Even if there were, you’re not ready for one as things stand, and I’m afraid you may never be ready. If you truly wish to be a Wizard, then perhaps it’s time for gave up on finding a Quest and start preparing for the examinations instead.”
“But Master!”
“I know I’ve taken you by surprise,” Cobbin said. “We’ll discuss it more later, after you’ve had time to think about it. For now, finish picking that waterweed; once you’ve filled the basket you may go. We’ll treat it tomorrow morning.”
Mulgrin nodded mutely, and, heart heavy, he continued his task in subdued silence.
Thanks in advance.
Chapter 1: A Quest for Mulgrin
Mulgrin stood proudly, brandishing his fierce sword in front of him. The bug-eyed monster stared at him, slimy green skin glistening in the light. A damsel with a tear-stained face stood nearby, wide eyes turning from the monster to the gnome that now stood boldly before it.
“Fear not, fair maiden!” Mulgrin cried. “I will slay the beast!”
The damsel gazed at him, her face filling with awe. A crowd had gathered behind her, and they cheered exuberantly as Mulgrin attacked the creature. With a mighty battle cry, Mulgrin leaped at the monster, swinging his sword and—
“Mulgrin!”
The dry voice broke into Mulgrin’s fantasy, shattering the illusion. The sword in the gnomeling’s hands transformed back into a plain old stick, and the great monster returned to its original frog form and hopped away, unharmed and completely uninterested. The cheering crowd and the maiden vanished, replaced by the assortment of curious forest creatures that had gathered at the edge of the small pond to watch Mulgrin’s antics.
Mulgrin was once more in Genmar, knee deep in slimy, smelly slough water.
Master Cobbin clucked his tongue disapprovingly, and Mulgrin’s attention was drawn to the old wizard behind him.
“I am not a fair maiden, nor am I afraid,” he said dryly. “And there are no monsters here that need slaying; only waterweed that needs picking. Now stop flinging that basket about and get to filling it; goodness knows, you’ve lost half of what you had with all that flailing about.”
Mulgrin glanced into his basket and was chastened to see his master was right; almost all of the waterweed and been flung from the basket during his imaginary fight.
Dolefully, he set to collecting the scattered plants floating on the water around him. Why did it have to be waterweed? He looked glumly at the slimy black weeds in his hands. The smell of stagnant water filled his nose, and he couldn’t help but grimace with each step in the murky, algae-filled pond.
“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Mulgrin sighed. “You know there are herbalist shops where you can buy things like this, don’t you?”
“You cannot always rely on shops to get what you need,” answered Master Cobbin. “And if you want to be a wizard, then a more practical education is required.”
“But when are you ever going to teach me something useful?” Mulgrin asked, dangling the limp weed in his hand for a moment before dropping it in the basket.
“I am teaching you something useful,” the elderly wizard replied, bending down to root out a waterweed. Cobbin’s robes were tucked up into his belt, revealing knobby knees and thin legs that stuck out of the murky water like sticks. His basket was already nearly overflowing with the black weed, each piece laid one at a time in careful layers. Algae had stained Cobbin’s tan robes, but he seemed to neither notice nor care.
Mulgrin skimmed the last of his dropped waterweed from the pond’s surface, studying the dripping clump dubiously. “I don’t see how. It’s not like any hero ever needed to go tromping into a slough for weeds before.” He dropped the offending handful of weeds unceremoniously into his basket.
Cobbin studied his weed briefly before setting it atop his pile. “A wise wizard learns what he can and uses what he knows.”
“And when on a Quest would I ever use waterweed?”
Master Cobbin frowned at him. “Really Mulgrin! Waterweed is a necessary ingredient for many potions. If you paid any attention at all, you’d know that. You won’t get far in Wizard-Dumm without at least a basic knowledge of potions.”
“But I’m no good at potions,” Mulgrin replied glumly. For some reason all his attempts at potion brewing were disasters. Instead of curing boils, Mulgrin’s potion had turned his skin green, and instead of putting him, his sleeping potion had made his ears buzz for days.
“You might be if you spent a little more time studying and a little less time daydreaming,” Cobbin admonished.
Mulgrin sighed. “I do try Master. Honest. But it all seems so pointless. Weeds and seeds and roots and leaves; not a thing about fighting monsters or saving damsels!”
“I do wish you’d get all that nonsense out of your head Mulgrin," Cobbin said sharply. "Not everything useful is showy and grand like in your stories. Knowing how to find and properly treat herbs is just as important—if not more so—than knowing how to swing a sword… And a good deal more beneficial, I might add."
“I’d much rather learn how to swing a sword,” Mulgrin said eagerly. “Couldn’t you teach me Master?”
“I most certainly could not,” Master Cobbin said with a snort. “I don’t know what’s sillier, a gnomeling like you trying to learn swordplay or an old codger like me trying to teach it! Frankly, I’ve never used a sword in my life, and I don’t plan to start now.”
“But you’re a wizard!” Mulgrin objected, eyes wide. “Surely you’ve used a sword before!”
“Surely not,” Cobbin said curtly. “A staff is all any good wizard ever needed. Sword fighting is quite impractical. Plant lore, on the other hand, is practical and pertinent to a wizard’s life.”
“But what of the Quest?” Mulgrin urged. “Plant lore is all well and good, but it’s not going to do much for me when I go. You can’t slay monsters with waterweed, or rescue damsels with pipsroot. Shouldn't you teach me things to help me on my Quest?”
Master Cobbin paused, glancing up at his eager apprentice. Slowly, he rooted out another waterweed and set it carefully in his basket. “Not all wizards go on a Quest Mulgrin,” he said, sounding somewhat hesitant.
“All the good ones do,” Mulgrin replied. “Everyone knows that the Quest is the most important part of a wizard’s training. You’ve said so yourself!”
“It is not strictly speaking essential,” Master Cobbin said. “Not all novices choose to go on a Quest, and those that do don’t necessarily succeed, or even find one. For some, it is perhaps better to take the examinations…”
Mulgrin’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at his master, dumbfounded. “The examinations? But you’ve always said that the examinations are an awful idea!”
“What I said was that they weren’t ideal,” the old wizard corrected pointedly. “The Quest may be the best way to get into Wizard-Dumm, but it is not the only way. It is important to consider all options when facing any task, even those options which we find less appealing.”
“You aren’t saying I should consider taking the examination, surely!”
Master Cobbin did not answer, or even look at Mulgrin. Instead, he rubbed his brow, looking very weary and more than a little unhappy.
“That is what you’re saying, isn’t it,” Mulgrin said, eyes widening with disbelief.
“All I’m saying is it may be time to look at your options,” Master Cobbin said finally.
“My options?” Mulgrin demanded. “You know that all I’ve ever wanted is to go on my Quest and become a hero!”
“Yes, of course I know that,” Cobbin snapped, irritated now. “Good heavens gnomeling, you’ve spoken of nothing else since I apprenticed you! But it is the unfortunate nature of life that we don’t always get what we want, no matter how desperately we want it.”
“I don’t understand… You’ve always told me how important the Quest is! Why would you change your mind now?”
“Mulgrin,” Cobbin replied, “not everyone is suited for a Quest. The truth of it is, I’m not sure there is a Quest for you. Not one that will get you into Wizard-Dumm. Even if there were, you’re not ready for one as things stand, and I’m afraid you may never be ready. If you truly wish to be a Wizard, then perhaps it’s time for gave up on finding a Quest and start preparing for the examinations instead.”
“But Master!”
“I know I’ve taken you by surprise,” Cobbin said. “We’ll discuss it more later, after you’ve had time to think about it. For now, finish picking that waterweed; once you’ve filled the basket you may go. We’ll treat it tomorrow morning.”
Mulgrin nodded mutely, and, heart heavy, he continued his task in subdued silence.
