But rather than posting that, which most of you wont be bothered to read, I thought I'd give a teaser to my other low fantasy short story, which is shorter and possibly (until today) my best work - judged by most people I know.
Here it goes, thanks :)
Letter To A Princess
The feint rain misted the outside windows of the entirely wooden tavern, 'The Wood and Wood Inn', which did exactly as it said on the sign.
"How, how, how can I win her heart? I wonder." He wondered, whispering whilst wandering around the wooden floors watching the wicker-work wench, made by the workers in the 'West's Winegrower's'. "Her dad will pick her a real man soon, so I must take my opportunity now!" gradually he got louder, slamming his fist on the nearest table. The three other men in the pub gave him an odd look before returning to putting their faces into their grog.
The tavern was unnaturally quiet, but he paid it no mind; it was quarter past four in the morning, after all. He could not sleep. His thoughts plagued his mind, not only of himself and his beautiful hazel eyes tipping off his quaint sense of humour, or his gravely voice that was distinct to all the people in town, but of the noble he was so endearing to.
Perhaps it was the fact that his birth, in a hut, on a full moon, was what lead Vitras to be an 'adventurer' by title. Being a shady character, he fit straight in the backward towns, as his 'business' was always dodgey or mainly illegal.
But there was always the one backward town he knew and loved best: the town of Lindell.
Vitras flicked back his crudely cut long brown hair, that he'd styled with a blunt knife. This was his trade mark, as he was known by many people and was the only male who dared to have long hair.
The rain had stopped. Vitras stepped outside, mug in hand, thinking of the one girl on his mind and looking around the town. He was usually such a lonely character; most people would not think of him to be fond of anyone, but he most definitely was. He turned and started to walk to his favourite sitting place: 'The Rock'. A place he loved, a place you could look out to the horizon, the most perfect choice of a spot to sit, and think.
“Hey! Bring my bloody mug back!” The barman suddenly burst out of the door of the tavern and ran out after him. Quickly, he snatched the tankard from Vitras' grasp and fixated his eyes on him with a cold, icy stare. “Thief”.
And as always. Here is the full story. Thanks for reading.
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