There was a great noise, and a crumbling and shuddering of the rocks. Fred pressed himself against the far wall, his eyes shut as thick, choking clouds of dust and smoke rolled effortlessly in. The floor under his feet rocked as in an earthquake.

Verity 2 years later: what if it was an earthquake.

Stone fragments whistled past him, small and large – some striking him, some ripping at his clothes. Though his eyes were shut, he could tell what was happening as though they were not (someday this man's omniscience will actually murder me). There was a painful, grinding noise followed by a dreadful crash as some of the ceiling caved in. And then it was silent.

Yet he still did not dare to open his eyes for several minutes; he groped forward uncertainly, feeling for the door. Leaning forward, feeling helplessly, his chest struck something jagged and unyielding. He nearly toppled forward, as much from astonishment as anything else. The door... part of it... was gone? Still not permitting his eyes to open, he began carefully to try climbing over.

no comment

It was not easy; yet at last he gained it, came over to the other side, and made off immediately down the hallway. His first priority was fresher air, for a good look at things.

When he deemed it safe to open his eyes and breathe more deeply, he first saw several doors jolted off their hinges and lying on the floor. There was more than one treacherous-looking person slinking around.

Okay so it's just so weird to me that he was terrified of opening his eyes on toxic fumes or dust or whatever but not of running into the other MANIFOLD hazards that there must have been from an interior explosion (including freaking ceiling cave-ins like his own cell??? and sketchy criminal types on the loose?) DUE TO HIS EYES BEING CLOSED. and also whatever his eyes would have been exposed to, he's definitely breathing it. js.

Then, turning to the side, he saw a partially broken door like his own. Standing with one foot over the edge was Sandy with a scratch across her cheekbone.

"H'llo," said Sandy conversationally. "Where's the rest?"

"I – I just got out..."

"Oh. Well then, let's look for them. I think I remember where Marjorie was." She started off at a swinging pace, back into the dissipating dust. Fred followed silently.

i remember the feelings of instinctive frustration with this scene, that instead of headstrong Sandy and cautious, mature Fred, I was somehow chronicling the adventures of a "feeling-very-sorry-for-myself" Fred and a proactive, solution-minded Sandy who is the first one to start thinking of the other family members.

now, I do love Sandy and all. In fact, in this scene she very much embodies an older and very-proactive-indeed Sandy girl. But this draft was bypassing all the legwork for her development. flash-processing her into Fred's much more engaging and likeable sidekick.

Marjorie was standing rigid with a hand poised before her mouth, looking down at the door which lay flat in the corridor. Gingerly she stepped over it and joined them. She looked like she couldn't believe what had just happened; and to tell the truth, Fred felt that neither could he.

[there is another detailed Powhatan interaction which again I simply cannot bring myself to transcribe for internet eyes, but the gist is Powhatan wants to stay and fight while Fred basically straight up lies to him and implies that they'll come back and fight later when they have more manpower, so Powhatan accepts this eloquent persuasion and comes with.]

They wandered uncertainly around, coming in the end back to Fred's cell. There Fred cried out and pointed. (Verity: I HAVE to give some agency back to my main character!! *stressed author noises*)

Stones had fallen away from the small barred window on the wall; it was easily large enough for them to pass through...

And then they were out. They were free.

Lights were shining nearby. Someone called and motioned in their direction.

No, not free yet...

Fred turned, and they ran...

oh no... the curse of the ellipses is back...

The voices and footsteps and lights were following them still. No; they could not make it... Marjorie was faltering...

Fred dared a glance over his shoulder and saw a lone figure silouhetted [sic] by torchlight step casually into the midst of the group. He pointed with a barely discernible shrug and a few gestures toward their left. The men took off that way, shouting.

^ okay okay one of the few instances where I think this was, if possible, better done in the OG manuscript??? Idk, I could change my mind but this says more with less, I believe, compared to the same paragraph which I lengthened + added to for attempted clarity in later versions.

Fred began to run again. Something glimmered ahead through the trees... not water – please...

lol too bad

They came out, panting, on the banks of a placid river. Through the break in the endless forest moonlight shone down clear and cold on the surface of the water.

They gazed at it – beautiful, icy, pitiless.

yes ma'am yes. Here for the drama

There was a plashing and a long boat came into view. (i've been obsessed with the word "plash" since i came across it in LOTR. you all deserve to know that that is exactly the reason this word is in here.) The single man paddling in the stern was already looking their direction – there was no time to hide. And he was only one... Fred bent and felt for a loose stick, anything at hand for defense.

"Don't attack me... please," said the man, leaping agilely out and beaching the boat.

ohhh, Hunter. This is still such a good scene.

Fred dropped the branch. "Hunter...?"

"Yes. Kindly get in the boat."

But Fred only stood, looking dumbly at him. He managed at last, "You – you're helping us?"

Hunter's shoulders quivered with soundless laughter. His smile flashed white under the pale moon. "Yes."

"Why...?"

Hunter looked at him long. "Because," he said at last, "because it was amusing..."

... and there's the dissonant note in this otherwise stellar exchange. "Amusing" may have been a good enough reason for this draft's version of Hunter, but I gotta say, it never hit right. We needed something with a bit more tug on the heartstrings.

~

High in the heavens the sun struggled to pierce the tangled wrack of heavy grey clouds that choked and smothered it. Down in the mist only a faint, fickle glow reached the foggy river and the long, canoe-like boat which floated serenely along it.

bro, the descriptions are coming into their own this chapter *chef's kiss*

Fred trailed his hand in the water and jerked it out again with a painful reminder that this was after all November.

"Fred," inquired Marjorie gently, "what on earth are you doing?"

"Nothing," he muttered. Why did these girls have to be infernally curious about what was not their business?

"I saw him," Sandy cut in. "He was trying to give his hand a bath."

It was so hard to see anything in this fog... had Marjorie's mouth twitched or hadn't it?

A soft laugh from her direction assured him that it had.

"Fred, really... it's November!"

see both sisters are 100% in character here, but who is this grouchy grump Fred, we don't know him

When was the last time he had heard Marjorie laugh? When was the last time he had heard himself laugh? Aloud he answered lamely, "I forgot."

The fourth day since their escape. Always it had been paddling, hiding, eating, sleeping, no time to think, always the fear that there was someone watching them from behind the lowering trees. But today was foggy... today was a respite. The sounds were muffled... the sights were muffled... there was a potent, airy sense of lightness and freedom – for a brief time at least the heavy, suffocating sense of being hunted was lifting.

They will not chase you farther than the border, Hunter had said. There had been contempt in his voice. As they believe that no outsider may tread the ground of their forest, so they also believe that it is forbidden for them to depart it. No, they will not hunt you beyond it.

But would they ever reach the border? It seemed that these woods could never end.

The mist suddenly felt chill. It seemed that he could hear voices in it...

that was a really shortlived sense of respite lolol

10/10 vibes though, honestly here for the foggy day atmosphere.

Fred shuddered and bent down. The day stretching ahead suddenly seemed very long.

Not until evening did the fog begin to thin and wisp, thrashing as though desperate to keep itself from vanishing. The wind rose as it blew away the mist to a howling, moaning roar. Fred stared about them as the last of it evaporated and the sun's dying rays slanted across the brown and dead plain. Here and there a withered, leafless tree bowed before the wild, shrieking tempest.

The trees... the forest... gone.

Verity in draft 2: lol no it's gotta take them way more than four days to get out of Edivernel

They were out! He felt like jumping up in the boat and doing something ridiculous. But restrained himself with the sensible knowledge that that would probably send them all to a watery grave.

So he turned and exchanged with Sandy a quietly contented smile.

"The trees are gone!" exclaimed Marjorie with unaffected astonishment.

"So they are," agreed Fred. "Did you think that they went on forever?"

yeah Fred you were literally thinking that five paragraphs ago.

Marjorie smiled tolerantly.

none of us deserve her

Though the wind cut like a knife, their camp seemed very warm that night.

okay that line slaps too

Fred was up early in the morning, well before the sunrise, but he did not rise immediately. Instead he lay quiet, thinking.

The people of the forest had never searched him; or if they had found the money in his coat, they had deemed it useless for themselves, as well it must have been. So that he had. And Hunter – for further amusement? – had provided in their boat some food.

But he had lost the map – that food would soon run short – and money was of no use if there was nothing to buy. They needed to find a town... and soon.

The others woke; the sun slowly rose. Fred paced their camp, gazing out across the river as rays of light struck treetops and – and buildings. Yes: thin smoke trails spiraled up into the sky...

that was easy!

Eagerly Fred turned. His words were clipped and terse. "I am taking the boat over the river, for supplies and information of where we are."

"Go ahead," yawned Sandy, looking still like she was only half awake.

Fred hesitated, fearful suddenly of leaving them alone. "Stay safe... Don't go off alone. Don't leave the campsite..."

okay mama hen

"Go on," said Sandy. "I'm dying for you to leave so that I can knock Powhatan's block off."

Fred stared at her until he assured himself that she was joking. Then he stepped carefully into the boat, and picked up the paddle.

It was beautiful and still during his journey across; only the wind whispered in the branches of the trees which seemed so much more plentiful on the other side of the river. Fred felt more at rest than ever since his twenty-first birthday a month ago.

i mean it has been a pretty wild ride

With difficulty he beached the boat on the opposite shore, and began walking through the evergreens that bordered it. It was no more than twenty minutes before he was approaching the town.

More than a town, he decided then. Indeed, he had not seen so large a place since Erbville. Moreover, Erbville had been... different. People everywhere. Noisy, jostling crowds. An individual person was simply not noticed. Things seemed cleaner here, and quieter. Fred felt dirty, ragged, and conspicuous as he shyly walked between the buildings. The feeling of an outcast was only intensified when a woman, upon seeing him, hustled her child quickly to the other side to the street.

(Fred could not be expected to know that this certain woman considered any man with a scattering of stubble on his chin and a frayed shirt collar a ruffian, a thief, and a murderer several times over.)

The above ^ is not 2024 commentary. it is actual narration from the book which i felt it important to include because this woman was a frequent "recurring character" in the various Fellowships that we made travel the route to Mordor/Orden.

"Hello!" came a startled exclamation right in front of him. The man rounding the corner pulled up sharply, nearly bumping into Fred. "Hello – what's this?" He scrutinized Fred closely. "Not from 'round here, are you? Well, I'll be warning you, young fellow, I'm part of the police 'round here, and I've got my eye on you. So you don't be trying any shoplifting, now." He attempted to stare Fred down.

past Ver really went and said "we're going to put police harassment in here to give my poor meow meow character an even harder time :)"

no this entire paragraph was so unnecessary ;-;

Fred was in no mood to be bullied that morning. Returning stare for stare, he asked, "Can you direct me to a store where I might find traveling supplies?"

is this Fred standing up for himself? is this CHRISTMAS? BRO THE BIRDS ARE SINGING THE SUN IS OUT

The policeman appeared flustered. "Right – er, right down that way on yer left." He hurried off.

Fred entered the store unnoticed. There seemed to be few people actually searching the shelves; but there was a group of fifteen or so men in heavy coats standing around the proprietor's counter.

"But we could do it, I tell you!"

it's Revolution Time boys

The raised, angry voice, accompanied by a fist slamming down onto a hard surface, made Fred halt in his steps toward the safety of the aisles. Nervous and at the same time curious, he moved cautiously forward.

one of Fred's (many) issues is that he was overbearingly self-conscious. Not on a level that would have been bad if it was his main focus for growth over the course of the story, but as a character "quirk" it's so pervasive and so intense that he really comes across as self-absorbed. which is not endearing, like, at all.

"You're a fool, Samuel," the proprietor answered evenly. "A downright obstinate, pigheaded fool. None of us are with you and you know it." (Oh and this poor man has no name throughout the whole chapter in this draft... he's just "The Proprietor" smh Ver)

"Aye," growled a deep-voiced man with the badge of a policeman on his shoulder. "And it's that fact only that keeps me from clapping ye in handcuffs. Did ye begin to be moving the hearts of others over to ye're side, ye'd find yerself looking at bare stone walls before ye could say, 'Down with the king'!"

stop i hear his accent in my head and it sounds so fake T_T

exactly like the pirate in the Lego Movie

"But yes," insisted the first speaker eagerly – a lean-faced, wiry man of perhaps twenty-five with unruly brown hair about the color of Fred's own. "Down with the king!" His face was turned slightly, and Fred could see his deep-set, pale blue eyes glittering fanatically. "Down with the king! He is far away, I say. In the time that it took him to hear of our uprising, decide it was urgent, and travel here, we could gather to ourselves more than enough men to fight him off! Then we would be free – free, I say!"

"And I say again, Samuel Gattewright, you are a fool." The proprietor's tone was sharper this time. "There is too much against you. You may try in another fifty years, when perhaps there is another king on the throne, another general at his side, the army has shrunk to ten times its present size, and those of us loyal to our ruler lie in our graves." His eyes flashed dangerously. "For now, content yourself with leaving my store."

Samuel Gattewright began an outraged protest, seemed to think better of it, and turned and shuffled out the door without so much as a glance at Fred. The other men quietly dispersed.

he's a visionary

he needs to sit down in a shabby little apartment with a moderate pension and a decently good shot glass of something French and write a slim bestselling volume on the Quality of Life Under Monarchy

Samuel babe your life is wasted on talking to these diehards and peddling pamphlets

"Young – hotheaded..." the man behind the counter muttered. "He'll cool down soon enough. And if he doesn't –" he shook his head. "The others here will ride him out of town on a rail."

He glanced up then and saw Fred. "Good morning, sir – and what might you need today?"

"If – if I may," Fred stammered, "where is – this? Where am I?"

He could tell from the look on the proprietor's face that the man was wondering whether Fred was quite "all there".

He tried again. "I lost the map I was carrying – I have been traveling for many days without seeing any town where I might ask my location."

"Ah!" The other seemed relieved not to have a half-wit or amnesia victim on his hands. "As to that, then, this is Tharen Falls, of the Ordenian colony Denholmet."

Fred was astonished. "Ordenian colony?"

"Yes – claimed by King Denholm away back in 1682. You have never heard of it?"

Orden's shortlived empire phase

"No – I – I did not have much schooling..." It seemed suddenly a very shameful thing. Fred lowered his eyes. (The way Fred delivers that line in the 2015 doll movie is BEYOND HILARIOUS) "It is not far, then," he ventured at last, "from here to Orden?"

The man laughed shortly. "Far? Far, he says? Lad, if you've been traveling a long way I'm sorry for you, for you've got a long way to go yet." (literally nobody in this town is pleasant) He fumbled under the counter for a short time and finally fished out a map, which he laid out between them.

"See – here? That is us – Tharen Falls. You continue along the river northeast for many miles yet; with a good boat and strong arms three to four days' travel. (Ver once again, looking at the map 2 years later: lol no) Then it makes a wide bend south and you must leave it, continuing on foot or horseback north and east. Before you then lie leagues upon leagues yet. It is wild, untamed land for the most part; home to strange, fell creatures and roaming groups of bandits.

"You will come at last to the Great Waste: a land where there is rarely to be found any living thing. They are, in reality, a continuation of the land such as you must have seen on the other side of this river.

"Keep a good sense of direction, if you can; you do not want to go too far south and enter this wood. Unless, that is, you are a friend to the Rodronians – for if they find that you are a traveller to Orden, they will take you. Of course, if you have not an issue with uttering several bare-faced lies, you might walk it in safety after all.

"You will begin to see before you mountains: a small shadow at first on the bare horizon, then a ridge, then small jagged peaks – and then you will be gazing up at them, majestic and tall, the Elerien Mountains. The Eastern Guard of Orden, the Mist Jewels in Old Ordenian. (the patriotism is strong with this one) Before reaching their feet you shall come to the Dirion River, which marks the end of the Great Waste and flows beside Orden's whole eastern range. It is not so wide as many, and when you reach it, it will certainly be frozen over for an easy crossing. (Ver, 2 years later: "um, actually... bridge.") And then you will be at the very border of Orden.

"Depending on where you are, you may still have days' travel ahead of you. For instance, do not try to enter by Mianu and the pass of Cerian Aman. The king fears, and rightly, that the Rodronians may attempt an attack through this easily accessible place, and it is heavily guarded. It would take much convincing and much proof that you would not have for them to let you in. But from there it is but twelve leagues north to the West Gate, where come most of those people who enter Orden. Are there others with you?"

Fred was shaken and stunned by what lay ahead. He nodded. "Three others – sister and a brother."

honestly cannot even blame him. that man opened his mouth and talked for five minutes straight without even opening up time for questions

"Large companies of people must acquire passports and endure a good deal of questioning, that Orden may be assured they are who they say they are. But small groups of five or ten they will let past easily – and there you are."

lol that makes literally no sense

"Rodron – it is not friendly with Orden?"

Fred, his mind reeling from information overload: "bla bla Rodron bla bla bla"

The proprietor laughed again, a laugh devoid of humor. "Not since Eldrick I broke the alliance 'in a fine fit of temper' in 1939. His grandson Thireler IV tried to bright about peace thirty years later, but the Rodronians drove him out and he barely escaped with his life. King Fenwick also endeavored to establish peace in 2123, and they shot him down before he reached the border. He was a peaceful man, only thirty-five, with one young son and another child on the way; and the Ordenians, who had loved him, were furious. The Queen, who acted as regent until her son came of age, held them back from making war with difficulty. So yes, Rodron is our enemy, and not by our wish either." He folded up the map and flicked it across the counter to Fred. "Here: consider this an extra with your purchases. I don't need it. You still wish to go to Orden?"

Around this time, Mercy had composed an extensive Ordenian royal genealogy with notes on the reigns of individual kings. The reason the above paragraph reads like a history textbook is because this chapter regurgitates EXTENSIVE portions of said genealogy lol

also pfft the proprietor be like "are you up for this?" because Fred probably looks like he is Not up for it

"This – this is the only way?"

"There are other ways. They cost much more, and they take much longer."

*steeples fingers* isn't part of the "higher cost" concept supposed to translate into a "faster results" tradeoff?

"Then I will take this."

Fred: no research no second opinion no counsel with my decorative sidekicks I mean my sisters

"Then –" The man motioned for Fred to follow him. He led the way to the far back of the store, and up to a locked door marked DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT PROPRIETOR OR EMPLOYEE. "If I didn't do this," he said cheerfully as he unlocked it, "Sam Gattewright would be throwing a whole lot more than words about."

He turned on a light and Fred gasped.

"My stock of weapons is small. After all, it's not every day I get wanderers, lone warriors, bandits, and travelers to Orden."

It looked big enough to Fred.

The proprietor pulled something off the wall and handed it to Fred. It was long, and heavy.

"Include this among your purchases, if you will."

Fred felt as though he was being pushed into a small, dark corner. "No..." he pleaded. "I don't know how to use it..."

"Now," replied the other man drily, "would be a fine time to learn."

"I don't want to fight!" He startled himself with the vehemence of his own words.

Now we know what Fred is doing in 1960's USA

The proprietor's eyes narrowed. "Young man," he said grimly, "I do not know where you have been, and what choices you have had to make; but out in the wild lands this choice will be laid before you, sooner or later: and it will be fight or die." He bent and picked up the sword; Fred had dropped it. "Take it, if you would save not only your own life but the lives of those with you as well." He held it out... waiting.

Fred, it's his job to sell you things

Literally all you have to do is say "this was not in my budget for today, let me go back and talk it over with the other family members before we make a trade here" and you can open up about all your responsibility stress and pacifist inclinations to Marjorie and Sandy over tea-time

but we're not going to do that because Fred 1) is a pushover and 2) believes that all advice is "first come, first served"

Slowly Fred reached out. His right hand closed around the hilt; the fingers of his left grasped the blade encased in rough leather. He took it, stared at it long, and then silently buckled it on. The weight at his hip was heavy.

"So then." The proprietor nodded in approval. ("haha I bagged another one") "Shall we continue?"

we can only wonder what else he high key pressured Fred into blowing his money on today

Fred placed the sword under the parcels in the boat. He did not want to return to their camp wearing it. As he propelled the boat gently through the water, his eyes were troubled.

~

"Well," asked Sandy calmly, "What is it?"

There were times when it was amusing how Sandy read his mind. This was not one of them.

"It's... just..."

He might as well come out with it.

"It's a very long way yet to Orden. And it's going to be... dangerous... and –"

He broke off and rose, walking over to the boats. Sandy followed, eyes bright with curiosity. As Fred looked back he saw her nearly trip and fall over Marjorie's sleeping form.

She watched him while he leaned over the gunwale, pushing aside things. Then he straightened.

The sword rang faintly as he unsheathed it. And then it was out – revealed – blazing cold, beautiful, and deadly in the light of the moon.

Sandy, for once in her life, was rendered speechless.

"Sandy – what will Marjorie think when she knows I am carrying a sword? She'll be frightened of what lies ahead – terribly frightened."

"Not so much frightened," Sandy retorted, coming back to business, "as proud of her heroic brother. Good grief, Fred, I hardly know you, standing there holding the sword like that. You look dreadfully... grownup and courageous and valiant."

Fred lowered the sword, still staring at the white light glittering and reflecting off the polished surface. "Well, for all that I still don't know how to use it."

"Psh." Sandy dismissed this with a shrug. "You'll learn. It can't be that hard. Everybody does it. And as for Marjorie being afraid  – honestly, she's going to know about the danger we're going into soon, and she probably won't be happy if she finds out we've been hiding it from her. She isn't actually stupid."

Fred raised his head after a time and smiled at her. "Thank you, Sandy. I think you were helpful."

"Anytime..." She yawned without warning.

"My word, I'm awful sleepy all of a sudden... Hope that whacking great sword of yours doesn't give me nightmares. 'Night."

This scene is rather appealing on its own merits. I like some of the things it does: treating the weapon's purpose with gravity, allowing subtext to state the Thorne family's unfamiliarity with armaments in general + their unpreparedness for the region ahead, and Sandy's supportive hype, while Fred gets to be honest and genuine and for once not really self-absorbed. We learn that it isn't really an antipathy toward the idea of self-defense that freaked Fred out in the shop, but more an instinctive denial that he needs it, a fear of admitting just how dangerous his journey is about to get. Like a patient rejecting a diabetes management plan because they don't want to accept their diagnosis.

There's some complex emotions going on here and for once they were executed almost perfectly.

As a component of the larger book, though, it's not a keeper. I knew well before I got to the rewrite of Chapter 8 that the dispute about buying a sword was going to go, G-O, G-E-A-U-X. The reader already knows Fred struggles with decisions, and here at the halfway point of the book I actually wanted to give him a high point, a decision he's sure about and one that feeds into his overarching motivation: the need to protect his sisters. He gets to take agency. He initiates. He asks the storekeeper, "Where can I find a sword?"

*sigh* my babies. i love them.

There are 1.5 more chapters of draft 1 insanity to wade through. What're the odds I get through them before I turn 24?