Writing advice with original fiction clip from The Young Knight, the Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll · 6:08am Jan 16th, 2022
Recently I met a dragon. Well, not directly. Viking ZX has a remarkable YA fiction book called Axtara - Banking and Finance in which a young dragon goes out into the world to make her career as a banker. (he also has an informative writing advice series, far better than my drabbles, one of which will follow this blog post).
Those who can’t do, teach.
Those who can’t do or teach, write.
Those who can’t do, teach, or write, are trolls who criticize writers.
(holds up hand) Guess which one I was last month?
Generally, when I like a story a lot, I can’t criticize what is there, but I can carp about what isn’t. It’s little reversed from my regular writing process, where I’m constantly trying to keep from getting carried away and including the kitchen sink.
So I’m talking with Viking ZX on Discord about Axtara, trying to ‘contribute’ in my own way, because even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and that’s about double my average. And this happened…
-I just couldn't get a good idea on her size or weight as compared to humans.
-There's a certain skippage on other races. For example, are there people who tame pegasi and use them for express postal delivery?
-Do trolls build bridges and collect tolls from passers by, now that they're more civilized
-Do Elves watch over the woodcutters to make sure they don't over-harvest? Are they annoying?
-Would Axtara have a bag of gold coins she uses as a pillow?
-Would mages with earth spells build roads, or at least rough them out for other people to dump rocks on and build respective bridges?
(Harry Turtledove's The Toxic Spell Dump is an astonishingly complex mix of such concepts)
-Would people spray for gremlins, and set out traps when they become annoying.
-Do you wind up with the occasional wild salamander who takes up residence in the fireplace? Fine when small, but after a few years...
Viking ZX: There are no elves! I'll answer that one.
Viking ZX: lol
-Elf Denialism. Obviously part of the Fey Conspiracy
I’ll let you in on a little secret. The best way to lock up my creative engine and stop my writing cold is to encourage me to write a story on a given topic. Offer me money and I won’t even be able to write my name. But when somebody says something isn’t applicable in a story…
So it’s been a month, and this is what I have so far on a non-pony YA fantasy story. At best this is a second draft, because I already had to go back and slow it down since the first draft slammed right by Fetch and Quartz meeting to the Wizard’s Cottage they find. (far too much at once) By the time I hit a final draft, it may look only vaguely familiar (which is yet another reason not to publish as I go).
Thought I should go ahead and share it, because I’m not sure how far I’m going to get on it. But in a few years if you go into a bookstore (they still print books, right?) and see The Young Knight, the Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll…
Chapter List of The Young Knight, the Fey Maiden, and the Bridge Troll
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The Young Knight
“Take that, you fiend!” The young knight swung his sword briskly in a fierce battle against an invisible foe, cutting and thrusting with a great deal of enthusiasm and only a fair amount of imagined skill. “Flee before the might of Sir… Hm… Fetch doesn’t seem like a very knightly name. I’ll have to come up with something better.”
His fearsome steed flicked an ear at the sound, although it continued a slow plod along the overgrown trail, ducking under the occasional branch.
“Onward, Nutmeg. For glory and honor!” Fetch put his boot heels into the protruding ribs of his ancient steed and gave it a nudge, which made the old stallion pick up its pace ever so slightly.
“Good point,” admitted Fetch. “If we go forth to battle rapidly, we might catch the troll.” He looked down at the grassy trail and the thin wagon tracks pressed into the soft loam. “I thought the beast would have dropped it by now,” he muttered yet again, something that he had been doing for several days so far.
Fetch really did not have much of a plan other than bringing the missing wagon back to some king and claiming he had slain the troll in fearsome battle. Surely a feat of bravery such as that would get him recognized as a squire to a proper knight and brought into a king’s court, and that would ensure him a reliable post where he would not have to worry where his next meal was going to be coming from.
The long, slow plod down the path gave Fetch plenty of time to think, even though he really did not want to. It was so far away from his home in the village, but that home was gone forever, and so many of his friends along with it. King Seiki and his army had made sure of that. They had taken everything from him, and the only things Fetch had gotten in return was a notched sword, a dented breastplate, and a horse just this side of glue.
It was tempting to just hide in the forest like a hermit, digging for herbs and hunting small game. The problem was the game in the wild forests liked to hunt men, too. There had been a few signs of wild boar, and perhaps a bear, neither of which Fetch had any interest in fighting with the poor sword he had stolen. A squire was a much more preferable position, an assistant to fetch and carry much like he had done since his first memories in the village. And all he needed to do was use his stolen equipment to retrieve a stolen wagon and tell a believable lie.
Lying had first seemed to be the hardest part of his so-called plan, but retrieving the stolen wagon was slowly proving to be even more difficult.
The wandering trail opened up into a small clearing, with the constant sound of running water still off to his left where the nearby river had cut its way into the rock, burrowing down over the years until the water’s surface was far beyond his climbing ability. It was a pleasant place to stop after traveling all of the morning, with taller trees than the scraggly mess that he had been going around for hours, and fewer of the tall boulders which constantly blocked his attempts at traveling in a straight line. Ever since he had left Crossing two days ago, he had constantly expected to see the stolen wagon abandoned somewhere beside the trail, and it was about time to reevaluate his poor decision.
Turning around and going back to Three Rivers Crossing without the wagon and a believable tale of troll-slaying was right out. The ferryboat operators had not been the least bit interested in giving him a free ride across, and had taken it as some sort of insult when Fetch worked his way upstream and led Nutmeg across without drowning, although it had been rather close several times. There were other roads out of the large town, but he had a sneaking suspicion getting to them without receiving a knife in the back would be the problem.
The ferry operators had been quite specific about what would happen if he returned.
The so-called road Fetch had been proceeding down was notably lacking in side-roads or other towns to stop at, so that option was off the table for now. Since roads connected two different things, and the thing behind him was not where he wanted to go, that only left ahead as a destination. It was simple logic, a practicality that had served him well growing up as well as in his recent escape from King Seiki’s army.
A rumbling deep in his gut made Fetch stop worrying so much about long-term goals and focus more on finding food. Nutmeg could and was grazing on the thick grass of the clearing, but Fetch needed something more substantial. Even a rabbit would help fill the empty pit in his belly far more than the empty sack on Nutmeg’s side that at one time in the distant past had held a few scant handfuls of oats, now long gone. The string tying the sack together would provide material for a rabbit snare, while a piece of chert Fetch had found during their journey would work to start a fire. That only left just where to set his traps.
The large rounded boulders Fetch had been going around for days provided an excellent vantage point when climbed, and gave him a full view of his surroundings. Well, except for the bottom of the crevice where the river flowed, since the walls cut by the path of the running water were practically vertical, and the bottom was a long way down. The sun was warm and comfortable, which tempted Fetch into spending a little time dumping pebbles out of his loose boots and wriggling his bare toes. He was still a little guilty about the boots since they had been taken from a dead soldier, but it was a guilt he was willing to bear in exchange for something to protect his battered feet from the elements.
King Seiki had not cared a whit for the prisoners his army captured, particularly those who could not be trained even to march and carry a spear. If Fetch had not taken the opportunity to escape when he did…
“Now that’s strange,” murmured Fetch. Around one side of a nearby moss-covered boulder he could see the edge of a wagon, most likely the one he had been following. From here, it looked more like a cart, but rather than an ordinary human conveyance, this was a rugged oak wagon with spoked wheels and a packed bed filled neatly from one edge to the other with tidy boxes and tied-down parcels. It certainly was not some human wagon carried or dragged by a brutish monster, but something that had been designed to carry this much cargo, crafted with great care, and with a harness in front unlike anything Fetch had ever seen. It almost looked like—
“Pardon me,” said a deep voice from nearby. “Are you the young man who has been following me for the last day?”
Fetch was paralyzed with fear, although not as frightened as he might have been because a monster who introduced itself was less likely to eat him than one who simply roared. Since bears and boars could not talk, that left either a very large human, or…
Ever so slowly, he turned his head to look at the source. ‘Tall’ was the first thought that went through his mind, although ‘Terrifying’ did not immediately follow. It was obviously a troll, despite the fact that Fetch had never seen a troll before. The grey skin of the creature’s face was pitted and lumpish, but not ugly, more like a rough stone figure carved by a master than a monster. There was a thin fuzz of hair across the top of its oblong head, and a scraggly bit of hair on its chin, but the eyes were what really drew his attention. They were large turquoise orbs without a central pupil, and did not reflect a very hostile attitude. Thankfully.
“Yes?” managed Fetch. “I… um…” There was a terrible dearth of words that followed, mostly questions that fairly demanded an answer or two. A true knight would have drawn his sword and engaged in battle with the creature, but Fetch was reconsidering his career choice, as well as anything that might involve fighting something twice as tall as himself, even if he was standing on a boulder that brought their heights into rough parity.
“Frankly, I was little worried that the last town was going to send out some sort of monster hunter,” rumbled the troll. “Dere was a lot of runnin’ around and screaming when I went through. Thought that bein’ out here in the wild lands would make my kind more acceptable around town, instead of less.”
“I’ve never seen a troll before,” admitted Fetch, because it was the first thing to pop into his mind and he was unable to keep it from escaping out his mouth.
“Really?” The troll cocked one greyish eyebrow and developed a rather quirkish expression around the corners of his mouth. “I’ve seen trolls all the time, ever since I was born.”
“That’s—” Fetch considered things for a moment before deciding on a nervous giggle. It didn’t help that the hulking troll patted him gently on the shoulder with enough force to almost dislocate a joint.
“Sorry ‘bout that, kid. Look, why don’t you just ride that rickety old horse back to town and let me go about my job.”
“Job?” echoed Fetch out of reflex from his years of experience. “Can I help?”
That seemed to set the troll back as much as Fetch was surprised by his own words. After all, his whole life in the village had been helping other people with their jobs, so the response had just slipped out. Although what he could actually help a troll with…
“You want to help me build my bridge? Seriously?” The smile of a troll was filled with sharp teeth, but not as needle-like as Fetch expected. More like two whole rows of bright white chisels, which did not at least seem like anything that chewed up curious humans for making foolish suggestions.
“Well, you said the people at Crossing were afraid of you, which I understand because when I went through the town, that’s about all anybody was talking about, and they thought the wagon was stolen because they didn’t realize it was really yours,” said Fetch rapidly. His confidence was coming back at a good clip too, since his empty stomach was starting to gnaw at his backbone. “If you are going to… Bridge?”
“Naa, my name’s not Bridge. It’s Quartz.” One huge hand with blunt nails swept down to prod him in the chest, and the troll continued while Fetch was trying to figure out a way to shake hands with the vast expanse of grey. “If’n you want to help, I can’t rightly turn you down. People around here aren’t as polite as the big cities. I mean we trolls ain’t exactly treated like royalty there neither, but when I headed wildbound to find a mate, I thought it’d be easier than it has so far.”
Fetch was not considered to be very bright in his home village, but that was mostly because he preferred to listen a lot first before speaking very little. Two particular points stood out in Quartz’s brief talk so far, and Fetch considered them separately before putting them together in his mind and seeing how they fit.
“Trolls build bridges,” he mused out loud, “and use those bridges to attract female trolls. Right?”
Quartz nodded. “You see, once a troll builds a bridge, we settle down and wait for a lady troll to come along. They huff and puff, and check out all the construction. Jump up and down on it some. Kick it. You know they really like it if they pee on it. Then once they’re satisfied, they go bash in the owner’s head.”
“Eww,” said Fetch, who was still a little overwhelmed.
“Well, they try,” admitted Quartz, who balled up one huge hand into a fist and smacked it into the other. “The bigger the fight, the better. If he wins, and likes her, they stay together. Same if she wins. If not, the loser goes away and the winner waits for another troll to come along. M’be builds the bridge up a bit. Adds some buttresses. Ladies like a good strong buttress.” The troll stopped and considered the nearby canyon for a moment. “This bridge won’t really have space for no buttresses. Asides, the rock ain’t no good here.”
Fetch thought for a while about his trip and the rather long detour through Three Rivers he took to avoid the nearby canyon. Last week, the brief look he had taken at the map carved into a tavern wall showed how much shorter a trip it would be with a real bridge placed wherever it would work. There had been a rather faded scratch on the map roughly where he was standing right now which could have been a bridge at one time. Then again, there had only been one real bridge in Fetch’s home village, and it was mostly made by rolling a couple of empty barrels into a stream and piling dirt on top. And there were some problems with the troll’s plan so far.
“The people north of here at Three Rivers Crossing ferry aren’t going to like the competition one bit,” said Fetch.
“Stuff ‘em,” said Quartz.
“And how do you know this is the best place to build your bridge?” pressed Fetch, only to have the troll produce a folded piece of doeskin with lines and town names written on it. One large grey finger prodded the map along a line labeled ‘Marzpan Canyon’ and traced back and forth between other nearby town names.
“Paid good money for this so I wouldn't have to stomp around the area for a month or two lookin’ for a site. Time is money, after all. A bridge around this spot here will cut at least a week’s travel out of a trip between some of your human towns. That’s just a rough guess now. I’ll do a survey once I find a good spot and get a camp set up.”
The troll lifted one huge hand and sighted down an upraised thumb at the canyon. “Going to have to go a bit further up the river to get just the right foundation. We trolls are innate engineers where bridges are concerned, and this place just cries out for a good, solid, span. That’s what I plan on taking for my name when I’m done. We don’t get our real names until we’ve built our first bridge, you see. I’m planning on taking Span, because it is so much better than Quartz. M’sibs used to tease me about being able to see right through me.”
The image of a family of huge grey trolls was difficult to get out of his mind, particularly since Fetch had no real family of his own. It must have leaked through into his expression, because Quartz asked, “So, you got any sibs?”
“Not really,” admitted Fetch. “I’m an orphan. Was raised by Mrs. Triana and Otto at the inn. Did jobs for everybody all over town, which is why I got called Fetch.”
“Fetch,” echoed Quartz. “So what you gonna do to get a real name?”
“Err…” It really did not seem like a good time to mention that Fetch had intended on killing a troll, i.e. Quartz, and using that deed as a way to worm his way into some kingdom as a squire. That was a stupid plan anyway, and circumstances had changed to make it even dumber. What he really needed was a smart idea, and the troll had proven not to be mentally dense, just physically. Perhaps it was time to expand his horizons in a totally unexpected direction.
“I think helping build a bridge will do it,” he said instead. “Do you think we can talk about it over dinner?”
* * *
To be really honest with himself, Fetch should not have spoken up before considering what trolls ate. Something like rock stew with pebble garnishes and a tossed moss salad was the best of what he really expected when Quartz excused himself and vanished into the nearby canyon, but by the time Fetch had a good fire started and his first rabbit snare set, the troll returned with several fat trout.
“They’s better cooked,” he admitted. “I ate a couple of the smaller ones rather than have them slip through my fingers on the way up.”
Although Fetch was sorely tempted to take a bite of raw fish while dressing them out, he managed to hold himself back when the troll dug around in his wagon and brought out a spice rack, as well as a slim-bladed filet knife. They were far better tools for cooking than the notched sword and a simple stick, and Fetch energetically busied himself with the familiar task in the hopes that at least one of the roasted fish pieces would be left over after the troll had taken his portion.
“Dwarf work,” said Fetch once the fish were sizzling over the fire, glittering in the evening light like jewels with their fine coats of flour and spices. He turned the knife over in his hands, then used the sharpening stone to touch up a few fine points along the blade.
“It’s yours.” Quartz passed over the knife sheath by holding it between two fingers. “Too small for me, really. Only brought it along for trade. You’d be purty shocked at the amount of weird stuff a troll accumulates over a few decades. Pop set each of us up with a box fulla stuff like this, so it ain’t no big deal since you’re wantin’ to work for me anyway.”
“Aren’t you worried that some night I’d…” Fetch cringed, but made a fake stabbing motion with the filet knife anyway.
“Naaa,” scoffed Quartz. “You’ve gotta good foundation, nice and stable. Been knocked around a bit by what I see, couple of corners bent and strained, but we get you set up right again, the girls will be flocking in.”
“You sound like Ottao. His family took me in when my mother died. Raised me at the inn. Taught me how to cook, and Missus Triana showed me how to clean. I got really good at cleaning.”
Fetch put another stick into the fire, poking a few times so the flames would not burn one of the speared fish. Ottao had been a strong person, and strong people did not worry about small things. Large things either. Worry about something you could not fix was wasted work when you could be actually doing something about other problems. Far too many people spent all their time worrying about problems when they could just grab the first problem in the list and fix it, then move on to the second, and the next after that. A loose nail on the stairs or wobbling table had to be addressed now, because if it were just put off until you had time, there would never be time.
“Is that why you done left?” Quartz’s voice was a bit of a shock, since the troll had remained perfectly still, and Fetch’s mind had almost forgotten he was sitting on the other side of the fire as the darkness slowly crept up on them.
“I wish.” Fetch put away the knife and tied it onto the piece of rope he was using as a belt. “There’s a king by the name of Seiki who has been gobbling up the other smaller kingdoms around him. They’re not very big kingdoms, but a lot bigger than my home village, and the king has a wizard working for him.”
“Wizards cross free,” said Quartz. “Pa said that’s an unbreakable rule. An’ don’t worry none about nobody pretending to be a wizard to save a few coins, on account of a real wizard will find ‘em eventually, and they’ll pay a lot more than gold.”
Fetch nodded and started mixing cornmeal in a pan that he found in the wagon. It would fit into the coals when the fish were cooked, and even if they did not eat it tonight, it would keep for the morning. “The army was marching on our village, and everybody decided it was better to run away than to fight. Hoped they’d just loot and leave, and the people could come back when they were done. Well, I had a bad case of the trots and a fever, so Missus Triana stashed me in a woodcutter’s shed while the rest of them took off into the woods.”
“That’s terrible,” said Quartz, only to have Fetch shake his head.
“I suggested it. The shed was out of the way and covered in moss, so nobody really paid it any attention. There was no way I could keep up with the rest of the villagers, and I had water and dried apples for a few weeks. What I didn’t have was a good way to take care of the stink.”
“That’s the bad side of humans,” said Quartz. “You should smell the big cities.”
“Or the army camps.” Fetch finished mixing the cornmeal and put the lid on the iron pot, placing it carefully to one side before picking up one of the smaller pieces of fish and offering it to Quartz.
“Naa, you go first,” said the troll with a low cough. “I nicked the fish heads while you weren’t looking, so I can wait until you’re full.”
“Thank you.” Fetch blew on the sizzling fish fragment until it was safe to take a bite and only continued talking after it had been eaten down to the point where he was licking the stick.
“Anyway, they burned my village, then threw me in with several other prisoners, using us for manual labor that the soldiers didn’t want to do. Since I was still sick, that was a mistake. Within a few days, everybody in the whole camp took ill. A couple of them even died, while I was recovering. That’s when I saw my opportunity. One of the sentries went behind a tree to be sick, and I took off.”
“Saved two lives,” grunted Quartz. He took a long look at Nutmeg, who was quietly cropping a thick tuft of grass. “He’d a been in the pot for sure by now.”
“No doubt.” Fetch picked up another wooden skewer and examined the browned fish, then handed it to Quartz while picking out another one. “He saved my life.”
“An’ he’s perfectly safe with me,” said Quartz. The troll popped the whole fish into his mouth at once, stick and all, and only continued after he chewed and swallowed. “We trolls like horses. Since we don’t stink like humans, we don’t spook them when they’re crossing our bridge. Pa showed me how to lead a skittish horse, an’ how to slip them a bit of apple when nobody’s looking so they remember us for the next trip. Goats, however…” The troll snorted. “Cook ‘em.”
And just like that Georg proves that there is literally no point in life where you can't learn something new and put it in action. This was super fun Georg with interesting characters and snappy, clean dialogue. Now I wish my book series was just as creative as yours XD
If it's in a bookshop, that means it'll also be on Amazon Kindle as well, right?
I know it's my background rather than the writing, but this had the strongest vibes of Troll Bridge by Terry Pratchett (which is unfair, since the two stories are markedly different). None the less, it's a good story, and I guess if I can compare it favourably to Pratchett that's a bonus...
Oh yeah Axtara is awesome!
This is looking great so far. Let us know if you post more somewhere... do you have a Patreon?
"-Would mages with earth spells build roads, or at least rough them out for other people to dump rocks on and build respective bridges?"
Reminds me of when I realized that the classic D&D spells Transmute Rock to Mud and Transmute Mud to Rock could enable concrete-like construction, including casting in molds or around reinforcing elements.
And good luck with the writing!
Already a fun start to that book. Good luck!
I love Axtara The Studious too! Great dragon, great book.
For trolls, I always think of the ones drawn by Ursula Vernon in her comic masterpiece Digger. They're more animalistic than Quartz and actually related to goats, but in that story troll-dom is more a state of mind than a strictly speciest thing.
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https://www.amazon.ca/Axtara-Banking-Finance-Max-Florschutz-ebook/dp/B08QZ3WXFK/ref=sr_1_1?crid=102VSPPMFUTKR&keywords=axtara&qid=1642393351&sprefix=atara%2Caps%2C254&sr=8-1
https://www.amazon.com/Axtara-Banking-Finance-Max-Florschutz-ebook/dp/B08QZ3WXFK/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3MB7Z50PO1X5N&keywords=axtara&qid=1642393385&sprefix=axtara%2Caps%2C190&sr=8-2
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Already have it and his Colony books :)