Chapter 2 Stromin strung another arrow to the bow and took aim. He pulled the bowstring with his left hand, with the feathery end of the arrow held tightly between his fore and middle fingers. Stromin focused on the round, black and red target and released his left hand with ease. The arrow made a low hissing sound as it soared through the air and a soft thud as it embedded itself into the target. It hadn’t exactly hit the center of the target, like he had wanted, but at least it hit the target. “Well, let’s look at the bright side,” someone behind him said, as they put their left hand on Stromin’s right shoulder. “At least you hit the target this time.” He laughed hard for a moment, in a bowing motion and then straightened himself once again. This was Stromin’s brother, Orenthil, who was quite right in laughing. Stromin had shot 24 arrows and only 5 had even hit the target, including the one he just shot. It looked as if he had tried to everything around the target, in which case he would have been very successful. Orenthil was always in a happy mood. Hi face was very broad compared to the rest of his body, which was quite built, but strangely thin. His hair was black, as was Stromin’s and his eyes were light blue, also like Stromin’s. Orenthil was four years older then Stromin, who was seventeen, yet sometimes acted much younger. They looked very much alike, except for a scar that Orenthil had received last year from an orc encounter a few months ago. The scar was about an inch long and a centimeter thick and it ran down the left side of his face. “Oh, shut up,” Stromin remarked, a bit annoyed at, yet with a comical tone, “I still have one more to shoot,” and he pointed a finger behind him at the brown leather quiver that rested itself on a tree. It held Stromin’s best arrow, that he had found ages ago. It was elven crafted, with a gold arrowhead. There was a spell on it, so that it wouldn’t break and may be reused, but Stromin did not know this, nor did he know it was elven crafted. All he knew was that it was well made, and by a good crafter. “Aah, I see you’ve kept your best arrow for last. That should help you a load,” Orenthil said sarcastically. Stromin strode over to the quiver and removed the arrow, then went back to his previous spot. “Well,” he paused for a second as he readied his shot and aimed at the target, “we’ll just have to wait and see.” He pulled the string back. At that moment Orenthil took a step toward Stromin and blew in his ear. Stromin released unexpectedly and his aim was immediately lost as the arrow shot through the trees. “What’d you do that for?” Stromin yelled angrily. Suddenly, from the direction in which the arrow was shot, sounded a large and what sounded to be a very disastrous crashing noise. Orenthil’s face went from being a very pleased, yet a bit guilty, to a confused and almost scared look. “Was… was that your arrow?” he asked in an astonished undertone, “what did it hit?” Also a bit astonished Stromin said “No idea.” His anger had subsided almost immediately after the noise. He looked at the target in which he had previously been aiming for and noticed the few arrows that protruded from it. There was no way that they could’ve made such an alarming noise, even if the arrow had ricocheted off very large and very hollow, metallic barrel. They stood there, very still pondering the matter. Stromin looked back at Orenthil and noticed that it looked like he was straining himself to see something very distant, but instead Orenthil said “listen…” Sure enough Stromin heard a very distant rumble. “What is it Oren…” he said, but was cut off by Orenthil, who placed his forefinger to his lips. “Shhh…” he said sharply, but quietly at the same time. The noise had gotten louder than before, and then a bit louder as if whatever it was were coming closer. The ground began to shake and very suddenly a terrifyingly loud and reverberating ring blasted its way through the forest, as leaves were thrown at them like a blizzard, and the ground moved in literal waves. The two brothers were thrown off the ground with such force that it was a miracle they landed within a proximity of ten yards in which they had been lifted. The quiver landed hard on Orenthil’s face and he threw it off of himself quickly, while the bow was still held tightly in Stromin’s right hand. The noise stopped abruptly and it became strangely silent. The leaves, both green and brown, fluttered towards the ground, in what looked like millions at a time. Groaning, Stromin sat up, his left hand on his side. The pain in that area was immense. He must have broken a rib bone or two. Orenthil did the same, but his hand was on his face where the quiver had struck him. His nose was oddly crooked and bleeding badly. Both, still at a daze as to what had just occurred, waited a few seconds to catch their breath and waited for their thought process to come back to normal. When they got back to their senses they gazed about. Orenthil gasped, while Stromin exclaimed “Whoa!” It was a terrible sight. Trees had been uprooted from the ground and ripped in half, while where there was once lush grass, there was now a field of shredded grass, leaves, and twigs scattered all over the places. Deep holes and cuts gashed the face of the earth, as if this were a war zone. “What just happened?” Stromin asked sounding absolutely dumbfounded, but Orenthil did not answer his question, because suddenly a large uprooted tree in front of them seemed to jump off the ground and back into its original spot as good as new. Another tree did the same thing behind them and then another and another. Eventually all the trees were back up an as good as the original version. Then the leaves flew into the air and made circular funnel, and one by one each leaf made it to its original spot as well. It were as if the world were rewinding itself. The same went for the many blades of grass as they began put themselves back together. Stromin had begun to yell and Orenthil looked in the direction in which Stromin had fallen, but there was nobody there. Instead Orenthil instinctively looked up and saw in amazement Stromin floating ten feet off the ground. A few seconds later Orenthil was likewise in the air, and was yelling out of what seemed excitement and amazement, instead of fear. In the distance a rabbit was brought into the air as well, but it was dead no doubt due to one of the trees falling on it. A few seconds later they were all back on the ground, but they felt unhurt from their previous dilemma and now felt fresh and new. In the distance the same rabbit squealed with joy, or what seemed to be joy rather. The world had healed itself! The wind blew softly over their hair as they sat upright, looking around. They watched as the birds settled themselves back into their nests and watched nature get back to it’s usual self. “That was… unusual,” Stromin said, at a loss of words. Orenthil jumped up onto his feet. “Come on, let’s go!” He pulled Stromin up to his feet and began pulling him in the direction of the direction in which the strange sounds came from. Stromin objected hastily, pulling his arm back. “Oren, shouldn’t we see if the village is safe before we investigate?” The village in which he spoke of was a small one, hidden from the rest of the world in the Sentarin forest. The residents who lived there were outcasts, tired of the conflicts of the outside world. They did occasionally send people to the major cities to get a grip at what’s happening in the outside world. “No, didn’t you see what just happened? The sound wave came and destroyed everything in it’s path, but another wave came and fixed everything back to normal. They are fine, brother. And besides it is our job to figure these things out,” Oren said convincingly. “They will want to know what caused those terrifying sounds.” The job in which Orenthil was talking about was the detective/bounty hunter business they owned and ran together. They called it Haffind Brother Detective Agency. Haffind was their last name. Unfortunately, their village was very small, so they had to do business in the city. They didn’t get very big assignments though, but on occasion they got one that left it’s mark on them, literally. That was how they encountered those orcs a few months back, and how Orenthil got the scar on his face. It was a bounty they had been hired for. Perhaps Orenthil was thinking, they may get hired to figure out what the noises were, so they may as well find out now. “Alright, alright,” agreed Stromin finally. “Let’s do this quickly.” He raced after the already running Orenthil, who dodged the motionless trees as if this were a deadly sport. They ran for a few minutes, when Orenthil began to go into a jog. He stopped suddenly, signaling for Stromin to stop. “What is it, Oren?” Stromin whispered. Orenthil inched back toward Stromin. He whispered into Stromin’s ears. “Your arrow is in that tree over there, which means that it didn’t hit whatever made the noise.” Stromin noticed the arrow protruding out of the Oak tree in which Orenthil had pointed. He began walking towards it, when Orenthil whispered “That also means that whatever made the noise is still close.” Stromin, taking heed to his words, crept slowly towards the arrow, and tried pulling it out. It was embedded surprisingly hard. He pulled a bit harder this time and then the arrow snapped in half with a loud crack. In the distance they heard a loud gasp, as soon as the arrow snapped and both Orenthil and Stromin froze. They waited a few seconds, hiding behind tree trunks. Then Orenthil put his hand out, so Stromin could see it. He counted one, two, and then three with his fingers and they both jumped out from behind the trees. They stopped suddenly, for what they saw wasn’t some large beast or an icky substance, in which they might have thought it to be. It was a small girl, and she was a Rok’nad. “Oren, does she seem a bit blue to you? And what is that thing in her head, oh!” He stopped talking as he realized it was a Rok’nad. It was strange though, because all Rok’nad have been gone for nearly five years. Orenthil spoke up. “She’s a Rok’nad, but what is she doing here, all alone?” He walked over to her slowly, so as to not frighten her. She began crying and huddled herself against a tree. “Where is your ship?” he asked the girl, but she just cried in return. “I don’t think she can speak Elerrian, Oren,” Stromin said wondering terribly about how a Rok’nad girl got onto Elerria. “Should we bring him to the city? It would fetch a good reward, I think. “No.” Orenthil walked over to the girl. He mumbled something to himself, “Poor thing her horns broken.” He picked the girl up, and stood her on her feet. “We have to bring her to the village. Do you know what they would do to this girl if we brought her to the city? They would lock her up, just for being Rok’nadrian.” He paused for a brief moment. “Come on, we have to bring her to Ferendé the wise.” They grabbed her by the arm, but not forcefully, and pulled her in the direction of the village. Stromin found himself thinking very hard as to what that noise or blast or whatever it was and how it had to deal with this tiny little girl. “Oren, do you think she could’ve caused all that damage?” He stopped walking. “I mean, they can use magic and all.” “This one can’t use magic, though,” Orenthil said, likewise stopping to get a look at the broken horn. It was freshly bleeding. “Rok’nad’s can’t use their magic without they’re horns.” He studied what remained of her horn a short while longer. This horn was freshly broken, so I’m guessing she hardly even knew there was a wave of energy that purged through the forest. She only recognized the pain.” The young Rok’nad girl looked back and forth at both Stromin’s and Orenthil’s faces. She not knowing what to do, mumbled something in her native tongue, and began to weep once more. Stromin and Orenthil continued through the forest with her in between them.
I just finished reading Eragon and found it surprisingly good. I have seen schoolmates reading it, but never truly had the care to, until now. Let me tell you, IT IS AWESOME! But the movie sucked, badly. Don't waste your $$ on it.
That's right, 1,000,000! No double posting please. This is supposed to be fun topic. Example: I say 4872, then the next person says 4873. I shall begin: 1
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