Thanks for reading this. This story is really close to me, as our Tristan and Isolde
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Tristan and the Grove--the Beginning
Pre-Roman Gaul, before the conquest by Julius Caesar
It had finally come, Summer Solstice Eve when the daylight hours would start to wane. The time of celebration of summer, and the hopes of a good harvest to come.
Women were preparing food for the feast. Men gathered firewood for the great bonfire that would be lit in the clearing. They looked over their fields, wondering what the crops would be like this year, if they would be bountiful or if they would wither and die.
The great Wicker Man stood empty, some of the villagers putting the last lashings to the frame so it would stand straight and tall until the fire consumed it. Prisoners of war, criminals, and slaves in a wooden cage waiting until it was time for them to be herded into the Wicker Man, along with the livestock, and other gifts the villagers would give so that they would please the gods of the harvest.
Tristan stood watching, a ten year old boy with eyes like blue sapphires and the curly blond hair of the Gauls. He was only a little taller than his friends, but was stronger and sturdier in build. His parents had decided he was old enough to witness the burning of the Wicker Man. He’d heard about it from the other boys and begged for two years until his parents finally relented.
He scratched his palm where the lines formed the strange marking of a crescent moon. When the Druid priest at the last village where they’d lived had seen the sign, he’d covered his face with his dirty white robe and had said, “Kill him, you must kill him. He will create havoc in this world.” Tristan had shrugged it off, but that night his parents packed only those belongings they needed and left the village in secret.
Tristan wondered why, but his sister had whispered to him, “It’s your fault, you know, that’s what the midwife said at your birth, “Kill him”. They should have done it; then we wouldn’t have to wander like we do.” Tristan glowered at her, and she’d turned away, but her words had made him wonder what the old priest had meant.
Finally, the sky had started to darken and the villagers began their feast. Tristan had wondered earlier about the men in the cages, what they were thinking, but now was more interested in the food, the bonfire, and running around with the other boys. The boys whispered among themselves so the adults wouldn’t hear what they were saying about what was going to happen when the Wicker Man was lit.
At last the feast was over. It was growing close to dawn, and the men and animals in the cages were herded into the great, hollow structure. Some men fought and tried to run, but were beaten back into the procession. Wood and straw was stuffed into the “Man” and people gathered about, watching and waiting, some trying not to listen to the cries that came from within the great structure.
The priest signaled the acolytes and the Wicker Man was lit with their torches. As the flames licked higher and higher, screaming could be heard, both from man and beast. Some people stood passively, ignoring the cries, a few hid their faces, but no one spoke a word. This may be brutal, but the gods demanded a price for a good harvest and it had to be paid.
Tristan had his own reasons for watching. He waited until no one would notice that a torch was missing and grabbed the nearest one, though it was almost too heavy for his ten year old arms. When he was sure that no one could see, he ran into the sacred grove, following the path he’d seen the priests take, their arms full of offerings.
Every so often he’d pause, checking to see if he’d been followed, then would run lightly on, going further than he’d been before. He was determined that he would not stop now, not until he reached his goal. They were all at the burning, he was sure, and this might be his only chance.
At last. A clearing up ahead that seemed to have a glow of its own. Tristan stepped into the heart of the sacred grove and saw before him what he’d only ever heard rumors of.
The stories were true after all. A pile of treasure lay before him, at least twice his height, maybe more. The other boys hadn’t lied.
Necklaces, torques, bracelets, vambraces, greaves, golden armor, earrings, rings set with precious stones. A handful of this and his parents would need to wander no more. He did not know that so much gold existed. He’d like to take a pretty necklace for his mother but the penalty for his gift might mean that she would be in the next year’s Wicker Man, or buried alive, or sacrificed on the Druids’ altar.
Mesmerized, he took a few steps forward, an arm outstretched, when suddenly a hard, merciless hand grabbed his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the oldest man he had ever seen.
His long stringy white hair fell to his hips, his back was humped from arthritis, but his grip was like iron. Even in the torchlight his eyes were as blue as Tristan’s and did not have the rheumy-ness of age. The look on his face was merciless, but memories were etched upon it in deep lines, memories that went back farther than Tristan could guess.
He opened Tristan’s palm and looked at the half moon. “You’re cursed boy. You’re marked. You don’t know what I mean now but you will, you will. You’ll prosper but you’ll always long for what you’ve lost. They should have killed you at birth, for you will kill many more. More than you can dream is possible.”
Pride suddenly grew in Tristan to replace the fear. “Why should I believe you, you’re just a crazy old man. I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be, boy, but you’re too young to have any sense. I should kill you right now for violating the grove, but the gods will take care of you. You may be a child, but you’re older than your years so I will tell you this: you’ll be haunted by that curse wherever you go. You will never die, but it will do you no good, and you will suffer for it. Now go before I decide to take your fate into my own hands and slit your throat, though the gods forbid it.”
Tristan turned and ran, letting his feet be his eyes and following the well worn path through the groves. He wished he could throw his torch into the trees and let the grove burn to the ground. Until he’d run into the old man he hadn’t really understood the plight of the victims of the Wicker Man, but now he realized that he would be a victim, too. The old man knew more than he told him about his fate. If he could cut the mark off his palm he would, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t help. Nothing would help. He was all alone with this and would always be.
Seattle, 2009
Tristan sat up and screamed. Isolde was immediately awake and turned on the light. She looked at him, assessing him, and then realized he’d had the dream again. There was nothing she could do but wait for him to speak.
He was gasping though he didn’t need to breathe. He reached out and took Isolde’s hand, his grasp so rough that she tried to pull away. Realizing what he was doing, he loosened his hold on her, then took her in his arms.
“You had the dream again,” she said softly, “the memory from when you were a little boy.”
He didn’t say anything, but reached for his pack of “Gauloises”, shook a cigarette out and lit it. “I have to go and hunt.”
“When? Now?”
“As soon as I finish this cigarette, cherie. I have to hunt and get the memory of that dream out of my head. It’s always the same, you know that. I’ll be haunted by it until I hunt.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know. If a thing can be pre-ordained, that’s what happened to you.” He let go of her hand rubbed it gently. She took his in hers, tracing the lines of the half moon. “If you hadn’t become what you are, you couldn’t have saved me. And we live together, vampire and mortal, and you protect me. Go and hunt, Tristan, it’s the only thing that ever brings you peace when you have that dream.. I’ll be here waiting when you return in the morning.”
He kissed her and grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out, he sat on her side of the bed for just a moment, smoothing her hair from her forehead. He kissed her tenderly and then left the room, the light sound of his footsteps hurrying down the stairs let her know he was gone. Like the time before, and the time before. The dream still wouldn’t let him go.
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slbynum3 reviewed Version 4 -
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It’s weird because the beginning doesn’t seem to fit at all into the end. The part about the Wicker Man and sacrificing seemed like a whole different fantasy world, and then it switches to a real world place like Seattle. I guess I’d have to know more of the story to understand it completely.
I like this story though, except i’m starting to hear about vampires too often these days. I’m guessing the cresent moon symbol means Tristan is a vampire, that’s why he grows up to kill people?
I couldn’t find many mistakes in this piece. Kudos.
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Rhonda9080 reviewed Version 4 -
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Wow! Once more you wow me with your wonderful opening. You set the scene and time period in a simple, and beautifully described way, then get us caught up within four (pain-free) paragraphs with this beautiful blue-eyed boy. I can see him.
**You write history so well! It’s believable, interesting, and your characters are not the boring, ponderous characters of history textbooks.
The “Kill him” sequence, good foreshadowing, appropriate placement, so we are right away given something to anticipate and worry over.
Old man’s description: like Tristin’s, just amazingly good! All of the imagery is well-done, and not strained or contrive in any way. Flows like magic…
2009:
Just amazingly well done! The writing is flawless, characterization, albeit brief, is very enticing. I now want to know all about Tristan. I would readily read a 1,000 pages. (Fantarding—I know) but its just the truth. Excellent piece of writing!
Now, if you are just piecing this together, have you thought of the first part being prologue, then opening the first chapter with the 2009 sequence. Probably, you have. It would work…
I give it all 10s (although I see no stats).
Matthewtuckey reviewed Version 4 -
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‘year, if they’- kind of a run-on. You’ve already got one comma in the sentence- another comma and section complicate it.
‘empty, with some of the’- The inclusion of the word ‘with’ might smooth the sentence out. It might not be grammatically incorrect, but it kind of jarred to me.
‘Prisoners of war’- this sentence could be improved by either: changing ‘waiting’ to ‘waited’ OR removing the words ‘so that they’. Try typing it out to see what you think. As it stands it didn’t look right to me.
‘It’s your fault’- this would piss me off immensely if my sister told me this! I didn’t feel much of a reaction, though, from Tristan.
‘This may be brutal’- You’ve switched to present tense here. I know you’re suggesting it’s a tradition that will happen again, but past tense would work better. ‘It was brutal, but…’
‘his back was humped from arthritis’- would Tristan be knowledgeable of this particular condition? He seems a bit young to have learned about health risks of the middle aged. Telling us something we understand that Tristan probably wouldn’t is a bit like going behind your characters’ back. If you describe his posture and movement, we can guess it’s maybe arthritis or something similar.
‘Necklaces, torques’- this isn’t a full sentence as it stands. ‘stones- a handful’- here I’ve connected two part-sentences to make a full one.
‘cursed, boy’- insert comma as shown.
’...believe you? You’re just’- It’s a rhetorical question but a question nonetheless, so it needs a question mark.
when he turns and runs, I’m not feeling emotion from him. Is he afraid? Confused? disgusted in himself? All of the above? Does he run, but brushes off the feelings? He’d feel these before turning to run.
brainfreeze reviewed Version 4 -
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“She looked at him, assessing him, and then realized he had the dream again”.—Incorrect parallel structure. Change “assessing him” to “assessed him”.
“Wood and straw was stuffed into “The Man”...”—“Was” should be “were”.
Did you notice that only prisoner of war, criminals--in other words, the lower rung of society--were always the ones who were often sacrificed? Why wasn’t anyone from the higher echelon ever herded into the Wicker Man or placed onto an altar? Politics often played into religion in those days, too.
Hoffmane21 reviewed Version 4 -
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Prisoners of war, criminals, and slaves in a wooden cage -I’s go with: Prisoners in a cage stood waiting. It makes the sentence feel more complete.
He scratched his palm where the -which one, left or right? I know it may seem meaningless, but it gives me my imagery to picture him with.
the sky had started -take out had, it doesn’t fit with the tense. Finally the sky started to darken.
cages were herded into -you’ve already used herded not to long ago, I would try for a use or a different word. As the men were driven into the wicker man.
You will never die, but it will do you no good, and you will suffer for it. Now go before I decide to take your fate into my own hands and slit your throat, though the gods forbid it. -If he will never die then what good would slittle his throat do? Please explain.
He kissed her and grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. -Be careful with excessive use of the word And.
Very catching and holds my interest well. There isn’t too much wrong with it, and I would love to read on. It leaves me with good questions, which would keep me turning pages. Hope we see more.
observingowl reviewed Version 4 -
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Everyone will like this story, not because it is original but because it is mainstream “vampire and mortal”, the unforbidden love seen in Dracula stories, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and more recently Twilight. Overplayed? Possibly but what perspective can you bring? Vampires will never die, they live in human fascination,they sometimes protect their lovers physically and their lovers compliment that by saving their humanity. I apologize for any curtness.
Besides the story, the language is very fluid and clear. Remember “what perspective can you bring?” don’t fear change.
DC_Karma reviewed Version 3 -
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“Solstice when the daylight hours…” comma after Solstice. Would it be just as easy to say ‘Summer Solstice Eve’ instead of ‘the eve of the’? In those days, holidays in general began on the ‘eve’ before and I think in this instance you mean that it is actually evening time on the day of Summer Solstice? ‘start to slowly decrease’...= ‘wane’? ‘hopes of a good’ and ‘A hoping for’, repititious. Plus ‘A hoping for signs among the people…’ makes it sound like we are hoping for signs ON the people.
“They looked over their fields, wondering…” this is actually great for adding effect, imagery, but ultimately goes against what would be the probable reality on this day. They would be partying and upbeat, joyous enough to ask their gods for approval. Not a time to feel this apprehensive unless they feel they have lost favor.
“cage waiting until it was time for them to be herded them…” comma after cage and the 2nd ‘them’ is a typo.
I’m sure you know and don’t care, but: ‘eyes like blue sapphires’ kind of cliched and tired.
‘boys and had begged and begged …’ lose ‘had’?
““Kill him”. They should have killed you; then we wouldn’t have to wander like we do.”” When using quotes inside of quotes, use ‘this method’ in lieu of full quotes. Also ‘killed you’ is redundant. ‘They should have taken care of it then and we wouldn’t have to wander the way we do.”’?
“Tristan had glowered….had made him wonder.” lose both ‘hads’? They weaken the prose. It is more impactful IMO to leave them out. In most cases :)
“Tristan had wondered earlier about the men in the cages,...” perhaps it isn’t an official run-on, but it is damn long :) Consider breaking into two or three sentences.
“At last the feasting…” if you just say ‘feast’, it really implies the whole event and would have better imagery IMO.
“acolytes to light …” not officially repetitive, but it sounds like it ;)
“but the gods demanded a price for a good harvest and it had to be paid.” And they were paying it, so they should expect a good hrvest. This was my point earlier. This is a time of jubilation, of communion, for these kinds of cultures.
”..I will tell you this, you’ll be haunted…” replace the comma with a colon.
“following the well worn paths …” he was really only following one path…
“he’d had the dream again. ” This really says, he had had the dream again.
“He was taking in gasps of air.” ’He was gasping for air’? or ‘He was taking air in deep gasps.’ A gasp is a physical action.
“He kissed her briefly…” maybe another word than ‘briefly’...it might be the most un-romantic word ever. ‘Lightly, quickly, hurriedly, etc.
Very good on bringing us into his past and the things he’s been through – and the years! The amount of years hits like a punch in the gut. The love is evident, the haunting past is very intriguing. I think Isolde may speak too formally, but this is probably a part of her character in the grand plot. I wonder what his curse was; good hook. Obviously, he is a vampire, but it raises the question: how did the psychics know by the crescent moon on his hand and what is its importance? Great segment! Thanks for the read!!
gemglitter reviewed Version 3 -
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Comments: I really got hooked on this story. Usually I am not a fan of back story right in the beginning of a chapter…but this works. Also, your use of actual facts, adds to the dimension of this story. I love the whole wicker man description and scene. Also the tid bitz you have about “the other boys didn’t lie” is really good.
Suggestions: “You should be, boy, but you’re too young to have any sense….” This paragraph is really confusing. You have that he should have been killed at birth, then that he can’t be killed and Gods protect him, and finally that he should be killed. You might want to take the time here and explain what exactly you mean.
“I have to hunt” This line sounds a bit melodramatic in the sense that I don’t think it sounds natural. Is he proud that he goes out and “hunts”? Is he ashamed? Is he used to it? Or is he annoyed by it? This line can really add to his character in how you form it.
I know that in some instances the word Gods are capitalized, I don’t know if you wanted to do that or not. I know you are using it semi-generically.
emariedo reviewed Version 3 -
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I throughly enjoyed reading this work so far! Please continue!
oknapp reviewed Version 3 -
Read 83% of the Item
, a ten year old boy. Don’t forget the dash ten year-old.
They looked over their fields, wondering what the crops would be like this year, if they would be bountiful or if they would wither and die. Sentence needs to be chopped up: Would the crops be bountiful or would they wither and die.
Finally, finally,. I would take out one of the finally’s. It would look more professional.
arm outstretched, ....Why? Was he going to take something. Can you give a little more detail.
Here are more descriptions of the old man. You may use them if need be.
What made him look old? Was it the quilted network of lines on his face. His bony gnarled hands. His long dirty robe where his ribs protruded trhough? Or Perhaps it was his shock of long white hair trailing down his skinny shoulders.
What is not to like? This has a Mideavil feel to it. I liked the earlier part of the story so much i hated to see it end. I love a piece that throws in history and has a definite time period. The writing is very descriptive and clear. One doesn’t stumble over it.I suggested things above. I wonder what you will do with Tristan in the modern days. Please keep me updated. I will review. I saw nothing that needs redefining or flushed out. It is my notion that you can go from here with no worries. The techies( i am a plot and theme person) can check the grammar. I am more interested to see if a piece deserves a grammar check. This one does. Sandi
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