Often times, I listen to music while I'm writing. One of my favorite things is spotify's "weekly discovery". A playlist of songs that they think you'll like according to the things you've been listening to. Today, while working on my oldest and most beloved project, a song in that playlist started going. Oh my life. I almost cried. This song perfectly, and I mean PERFECTLY fits the very scene I'm working. This poor king is so broken hearted over the loss of his wife and has seen so much evil and darkness that the pain described in this song and communicated through the music itself has me on the verge of tears. So, I'm going to take a minute to share with you this song and write a quick scene I imagine while its playing. This isn't in the book but reveals very much everything he's been keeping inside. The pain the Savarion family suffers is just too cruel. And yet. That pain, I think, is why I love them so much. Anruil accepted the letter delivered to him and broke the seal. The throne room, dark as it always was, felt as if it swallowed him whole when he read the words. His brother was dead. Trembling, the clean golden parchment slipped from his fingers and floated to the ground. There, it rested at his feet. His hands came up to his face and he trembled all over. Why? Why again? He clamped his eyes shut, remembering the day his wife died. He'd ridden so fast when he heard news that orcs had crossed into their land by way of the sea. The only place his power could not reach to protect their borders. His beloved and their son were there! He shouldn't have let them go. He'd asked her not to. He begged her to wait until he or someone else could accompany them. But she was so stubborn and Doristanen had wanted to go so badly. She was a starling, yes. A powerful being with great magic. But she'd not ever used that power to fight. She'd dedicated her magic only to serving the land and healing the broken hearted. She couldn't fight orc. And Doristanen. He'd barely learned how to walk! He rode as fast as he was able, not bothering to have saddled or bridled his horse. The mustang beat through the brush, pushing the forest aside in his haste in response to his master's desperation. He could hear the surf. The ocean was lapping gently over the sand. He was close. He could sense them. But then he heard crying. Tears sprung to his eyes. "Mom!" It was his son. His lips slid open into a frown and an anguished cry racked up from his ribs and rattled out of his chest. He burst through the forest and came stomping onto the sandy shore. The orc there stopped to see him. The King of Elves, the great warrior who had united his people to fight evil, came like a cruel loathsome beast. The mustang's long waving main and tail floated on the ocean breeze, his hooves making deep imprints beneath him. But it was his rider, looking down on them with fierce hatred that made them step back. Holding his sword already, he looked down to discover his son trying to protect his fallen mother. He was crying, wailing and holding her and begging her to get up. Seeing her lain on her side, blood pouring from her chest, and her eyes open but dull made his jaw tighten. Without a sound, he sped his mount on. The beast leapt forward, racing around the mother and her child. The orcs, feeling the dark curdling madness of his bloodlust, ran. They couldn't escape him. He swept his blade down at them, even leaping off his horse to catch them. Blood flew from their bodies and splattered onto the sand, some of it even blasting into his face. Gritting his teeth and tears streaming down his cheeks, he killed them all mercilessly. And then, with them all dead, he stood still, breathing heavily and his sword barely hanging onto the tips of his fingers. It was too much. This horrible terrible anguish inside of him. There wasn't enough of them to break it on. It was still festering inside him. He couldn't contain it and yet it had nowhere to go. He fell to his knees, his arms limp at his sides. And then he bent forward and screamed into them. Crying and wailing hoarsely as tears blobbed out of his eyes and gushed into his hands to then drip on the sand. A sweet breeze came off the ocean and curled past into the forest. The many branches within them shifted, their sound like a sad lament as they bent. They felt his sorrow and could do nothing but cry with him. "Papa!" A little voice whimpered behind him. Twitching, Anruil came out of his hands and slowly turned, red-faced, to gaze at his miserable son. He twisted around, falling onto his hands and crawled to him. Once there, he scooped the boy into his arms and held him fast, burying his face in his shoulder as the two of them wept. As he did, he lowered a hand and took that of his wife's. That her fingers didn't curl around his like he was used to made him buckle with grief and he fell. Yet Doristanen stayed in his arms. He watched, aching as he watched his father pull her into his lap and held her even as he still clung to Doristanen. And now... He looked down. Realizing that he hadn't let the letter go at all. It was still trapped between his fingers. His grip was so tight it was crumpling with a heat between them. He lowered his head into one hand and shut his eyes. It had happened again. But this time...he didn't have any orc to kill. All right. So maybe this belongs in the book. I try very hard to keep my chapters at a certain page number...but maybe I'll start worrying about word count instead and place this in there since it fits too perfectly into this particular scene.
Oh it hurts! Someday, when I find an agent or publisher, look for The Bearer of Power series. These are some of the best characters I've ever written. You can learn and read more about them here in my script-like conversations with them at Character Arguments.
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