Prologue Preview
Well, here goes nothing: below is the first draft of chapter one of my novel “Forged in Ice, Frozen in Flame”. I do want to preface this by saying this is literally a rough draft. This chapter is, we’ll just say, raw. I have done minimal editing, aside from spelling errors. This is the chapter in it’s entirety. So please, sit back, enjoy and let me know what you think.
In the winter, the valley in Malnoran was nothing more than a barren wasteland of white and ice. Creatures didn’t dare to try to cross or enter the frozen meadow. The wide open space provided no cover or escape from a blizzard or frigid winds. There was still one small hut, in the middle of it all. A lone dwarf sat and contemplated all that led him there. Deep in thought, the wind howled, causing the flame to flicker in the hearth. Hadreth was used to the dangers of the Forever Frost. Though the frost wasn’t forever, Mount Malnoran was known for a frost that seemed to never quite completely melt. To go out during the day required many layers, his two foot long beard tucked into the collar, a cap made of raccoon, gloves of mink and boots of ox hide. But the sun had completed its descent many hours ago, and Hadreth was left to do nothing but wait for the blizzard outside his front door. A quiet life of solitude, but not one without its quarrels. Hadreth struggled mightily with this existence. Not due to his own company, but more so because of the terms in which he found himself here.
Cast from his clan, he was banished to the Frozen Valley for a crime he did not commit. Sentenced to never forge blade in fire again, the Dwarven Elders saw it fit that their best weapon-smith be exiled to the one place that even the fires of Hell could not burn. With his forge absent of a flame, and home absent of companionship, Hadreth smoldered. The Clan had accused him of “Neglect of Duty and Insubordination”. Hadreth was not only the best weapon-smith this side of the Great Ponds. He was also a master warrior and axe-men. Said to have slain dragons with nothing more than one great swing of his blade, Hadreth was a very valuable member of the Clan. But jealousy does not discriminate in the minds it clouds, be it man or dwarf. Two years ago, Hadreth was tasked with forging a great hammer, capable of withstanding the blow of a lightning strike, but light enough that a child could wield it. Every dwarf has their role in a clan, and your role is your obligation. Failure to fulfill your role, was a failure to fulfill your obligation. Failure of a dwarf’s obligation leaves the clan at a disadvantage, and clans with disadvantages perish. Needless to say, failure was treated with the highest of scrutiny. Hadreth did not fail to complete his obligation. His obligation was stolen from him. And with it, his dignity, honor and credibility. The Clan, already weary of the task Hadreth was attempting to complete, believed him to have abandoned the idea, and passed it off as stolen. But Hadreth knew that was not true. The weapon was cooling in his shop while he ran to gather more supplies. When he returned, the Orenmir was gone. When news had gotten to the Clan leader of the missing hammer, the dwarven camp was turned upside down. It was deemed that if Hadreth had truly forged a hammer of such great capabilities, that it would be impossible to hide. After a meeting with The Elders and Magicians Counsel, it was determined that if the next quest failed due to the missing weapon that Hadreth would be severely punished. If the quest was a success, then the counsel would re-convene and figure a new sentence. As time would have it, the quest was a complete disaster. The Frost Trolls, growing larger and harder each winter, had developed ice-encrusted backs, no longer breakable by standard dwarven weapons. The lot sent on the quest were massacred, with one lone survivor returning to camp to tell the tale. He too had a patch pulled from his beard, frostbite of the nose and an icicle through the forearm. He blamed the lack of a “capable weapon” on the group’s failure and spoke of the ice trolls being almost unrecognizably “covered in death and disease”. The counsel moved quickly, and Hadreth was excommunicated from the Clan. Sentenced to 20 winters in the Crag, and to never put metal to flame again. That was two winters ago.
The wind was unrelenting tonight. The windows whistled and the fireplace barely able to maintain its warmth. The soft glow of the flame provided little light for Hadreth to see. Whittling away at the wooden spike he was carving, he gave a great sigh. The exhale would blow the shavings from his beard, and into the flame. Giving a subtle reignited fire the small hut illuminated a bit more. Hadreth caught a glimpse of his worn, dirty hands. Calluses, nicks and cuts covered his palms. Fingernails caked in filth and the knuckles covered in reddish-brown hair. I guess I’d be due a washing’ soon, Hadreth thought, disgusted with himself. It’d been weeks since the last time he’d properly bathed. Winter made water hard to come by, so ice was his best friend and worst enemy. Hauling buckets full, melting it down to a suitable temperature was tedious work. Not like there was a lass around to impress, nor even a dog to befriend. His musk was his own, and added to the aura of his hut. The flames danced and flicked, making the shadows on the wall mirror their vigor. A slight hiss rang from the logs, reminding him of how his work once did the same when dipped in buckets of water to cure them. A loud POP sent embers to the floor, where they almost immediately died out. Hadreth too, leaned back in his chair and let the wind howl and crackling flame, carrying him to sleep. As his slumber set in, it was impossible for him to know, it would be the last blizzard he’d endure in the Forever Frost. But he’d one day, long for its simplicity.
That’s it! This is the opening chapter, so far, for “Forged in Ice, Frozen in Flame”. I will give you more chapter snippets over time. Each one will be just a sample, and hopefully pique enough interest for each one after! Thanks again reading.
