Currently on hiatus. Will resume in July, or sooner.

Current story updates:

Current story interludes/Side stories:
Every other Saturday

Other pieces:
Every other Saturday (Saturdays I don't run the Interludes/Side Stories)

During certain periods updates may come more often; at other times updates may come less often. This schedule is my hoped-for goal.

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

One more update

I guess this is just postponing my NaNoWriMo, but I'm feeling wrong dry for the moment.
If anyone ever wants me to write a certain type of story, or about a certain topic or in a certain world, let me know. I need experience writing all kinds of things, and am always open to suggestions.
In the meantime here is the other part of my Wise Man's Fear book report; I wrote out one scene of the book as a screenplay. If you intend to read the book (and I highly recommend it, you really really really should) then don't read the following as it does have spoilers. I did take some creative licence, so don't be mad all you diehard fans. I envisioned it as a type of Christmas Story type of deal with Kote providing a narration of the scenes and his thoughts.

Kote(voiceover, as Kvothe walks down the main street examining stalls, flowers in his hand, lute on his back):
Secrets. Teccam knew about secrets. In his Theophany he wrote that they were painful treasures of the mind, and that secrets have two types.
First there are secrets of the mouth. These are the ones that aren’t truly secrets, just juicy bits of information that long to be shared. These secrets are no trouble to tell, no burden to hold onto.
The second kind of secret is a secret of the heart. Private, painful, these long to be kept silent. We hide these away from the world, fearing the revelation. And the longer we keep these secrets, the worse they are, the heavier to carry. Teccam knew about these things, knew so much more, understood so much more than any philosopher before or since. Teccam wrote that of a secret of the heart and a mouthful of poison, the mouth of poison is more desirable. For if we know we have a mouthful of poison we spit it out, and even if we swallow it, well, things will be over soon one way or the other.
(voiceover fades, street noises grow louder, Woman turns, and you can see that it is Denna. She waves to Kvothe, and Kvothe hurries over)
Kvothe: Denna! I got your note.
Denna: Evidently.
Kvothe(note of hope in his voice): You said that there was a surprise for me?
Denna: It’s done! My song, its finished! Or at least its almost done anyways, done enough that I can play it. (suddenly shy) Do you want to hear it?
Kvothe: Of course! (look around) is there somewhere particular you have in mind for it?
Denna: You could say that, come with me.
(Kvothe offers her his arm, which she takes, the two walk off down the street, camera follows, and eventually scene changes to walking down a dirt road with fields on either side)

Kote: *sighs* But a secret of the heart, now those, those we hold onto. We keep them deep inside ourselves, and there they grow heavier, darker, festering. They amass weight like a loadstone among iron filings. And then, when you want to let it out, when you need to, well, its weight makes it difficult, and the mass is too large, it sticks in your throat. And so slowly but surely this secret grows, never to be released, and, given enough time they cannot help but crush the heart that holds them.

(sound fades back, Denna and Kvothe laughing at a joke)
Denna(pointing at grove): In there. There is a small open space inside, and there you will tell me what you think of my song. (happily, pulling Kvothe by the arm)C’mon! (they run and skip up the hill. they push through the trees into a small sun-dappled clearing. In the middle there is a tree stump, which Denna goes over to)
Denna: Now, I’m going to set up my harp, and then I will play, and then (flashes smile over shoulder, says playfully) you will weep, as you will be overcome by the emotion and sadness of my song.
(Kvothe sits, watches her set up her harp, content smile on his face)
Kvothe: You know, we could play this song as a duet. Lute and harp are a good combination, and not as rare as you may think.
Denna(glancing over shoulder, one eyebrow raised): Are you suggesting that we could make beautiful music together?
Kvothe(stuttering, blushing): Oh, uh, No, no I meant, well yes we could, but thats not the way that I meant-
Denna (cuts Kvothe off): I’m jesting Kvothe. I know that you don’t think of me that way. (turns her back to Kvothe, sadness descends over Kvothe looks dejected) But a duet would be nice sometime I think.
Kvothe: Yes(wistfully) it would be.
Denna: Alright, now then, I’m ready(takes a seat, prepares to play)
Kvothe: You’re incredible
Denna(laughing): I haven’t even started yet!
Kvothe(laughing too): Nevertheless, you are still incredible.
Denna: Ok, enough. I want you to take this seriously or else I won’t play it for you.
Kvothe: Of course, I’m sorry. (crosses heart) I swear on my good right hand that I will take this seriously.
Denna(thoughtful): I think I like your left hand better. Swear by that one.
Kvothe: Wait wait wait, my left hand? What about tradition?
Denna: Fine, you sappy boy, your right hand if it will please you.
Kvothe(solemnly): I swear I will listen with all my heart, and take this as seriously as if this will determine my every future. I swear it on my name and on my power. I swear it by my good left hand. I swear it by the ever-moving moon.
Denna(surprised expression): That’s better. Now hush
(begins to play, opening is only music. for a few bars)
Kote: When she began to sing that day, it was first her voice that took my breath away. Then it was the lyrics. Before ten lines passed I was taken aback for a different reason.
Denna(voice rising and falling, beginning to sing along with her harp)
Gather round and listen well,
For I’ve a tale of tragedy to tell.
I sing of subtle shadow spread
Across a land, and of the man
Who turned his hand toward a purpose few could bear.
Fair Lanre: stripped of wife, of life, of pride
Still never from his purpose swayed.
Who fought the tide and fell, and was betrayed.
(continues to sing The Song of Seven Sorrows in the background, Kotes voice continues)
Kote: It was the Song of Seven Sorrows, and it was Lanre’s tale, the tale of the Chandrian, but it was different from the first time I heard it. In Denna’s version Lanre was a hero, wrongly used, fighting a glorious and noble fight against evil, Seliots a villain, and Myr Tariniel better for the cleansing fire. She was right. I did cry that day. And it was because of her song, that stupid stupid song. But it wasn’t for the reason she had jokingly suggested.
(Denna’s voice fades back in)

Go back to the world now, and remember well
This tale of tragedy that I did tell
Of subtle shadow spread
Across a land, and if the man
Who turned his hand toward a purpose few could bear.
Fair Lanre: stripped of wife, of life, of pride
Still never from his purpose swayed.
Who fought the tide and fell, and was betrayed.

Fair Lanre: stripped of wife, of life, of pride
Still never from his purpose swayed.
Who fought the tide and fell, and was betrayed.
Fair Lanre The Brave, The Wise, The Great

(Denna finishes signing, and strikes a few more chords on her harp, then looks at Kvothe expectantly. Kvothe sits still, frozen, his head lowered)
Denna(nervous): Well?
Kvothe(head still bent): The cities name was Myr Tariniel.
Denna(confused): Pardon?
Kvothe: The city Lanre burned. Not Mirintel. Myr Tariniel. (raises head, eyes hard): Not that song Denna. Never that song. Its dangerous.
Denna(confused): What? How can a song be dangerous?
Kvothe(looks down again, seems about to say something, struggling): just is Denna. I wish I could tell you why, but you’d never believe me.
Denna(getting angry now): I know that the song isn’t perfect, but its a far cry from dangerous. And I’m sorry but you’ll have to do better than just say ‘It is because trust me’.
Kvothe(jumps to his feet): You can’t sing it again Denna! Not like this! Not at all. (turns away, face falls into shadow) Lanre wasn’t a hero Denna. Lanre made war to the world, and burned those cities, bastions of light, of hope. (turn back to face Denna, voice dangerous and full of portent) Lanre was cursed with shadow, and pain. He became the leader of the Chandrian Denna. He(takes a deep breath, steadying self) he is no hero Denna.
Denna(laughs a cruel, mocking laugh): The Chandrian? What kind of a child are you Kvothe, believing in fairy stories, and stories to frighten children.
Kvothe(growing angry, raising voice): I’m a child? I’m a child? You don’t know me, you don’t know my life! What do you know about anything, you stupid whore!(immediately grows almost fearful, voice softens) Denna, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you-
Denna(cuts off Kvothe, shouting now): Just because you attended the University and I haven’t doesn’t mean I know nothing, I’ve-
Kvothe(eyes begin to darken to a deep dark green, shouting too): Shut up and listen! You’re acting like a spoiled little girl, I’m just trying-
Denna(voice quiet, low, and menacing): How dare you! You know nothing of me! You, and your ever changing eyes, then lighter, now darker. I know things that would make you shudder, would make your blood curdle. Secret things, dark things that they would never teach you at that precious University of yours.
Kvothe(start quiet, voice raises to a shout at the end): I’m trying to help you. You’re acting like an idiot!
Denna(coldly, almost spit the words others, fix, and dog): So thats it is it? You’re just like the others. Trying to help me, trying to fix my life, to fix me, trying to buy me. To arrange my life just so, the way you think it should be, to keep me as your pet. Like I’m your faithful dog.
Kvothe(coldly now too): Oh no Denna, I’d never think of you as a dog. Never ever. (give her a ‘bright, brittle smile’) A dog, a dog knows when to listen. (again almost spitting the last words)A dog has sense enough to not bite the hand that’s trying to help!
(As Kvothe speaks Denna’s face grows darker and darker, and by the end of his line her face is a mask of rage)

(fade to the Waystone)
Kote(stands up from table): Things went down from there. We said harsh, sharp, vile things that can never be unsaid. We parted ways, and I knew that things would never be the same, and that I would not see her again in Vint. I wept that night, at my own stupidity, and at the cruel things that I said, at my loss, at the loss of our friendship. I never want to relive those memories. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get myself something to drink.(leave the room, cellar door slams)
(Bats gets up, and walks over to Chronicler)
Bast: I’ve never heard that story before.
Chronicler(blots page, puts papers away, looks up at Bast): I’m not surprised that you haven’t. You couldn’t see his face as he was telling it, but he looked like he was ready to die. He looked so old, and tired, and regretful, you could tell it was hurting him. Seeing him like that I can see why sometimes you despair of returning him to his old self. He has so many problems he must deal with first.(goes back to organizing his papers)
Bast(grabs the front of Chroniclers shirt, hauls him halfway over the table): Listen, manling, you will help me save him, or so help me I will use your innards to decorate the walls, no matter what Kvothe says. You will help me bring him back, or you will not leave this town. Understand?
Chronicler(shaking): I already said that I would help you fae, so you put me back down, because Reshi is coming back up the stairs now.
(Bast, startled glances around, drops Chronicler, and dashes across the room, picks up a bottle of wine)
Bast(as Kote enters the room): Mmm. Elderberry. You know Reshi, we really should stock more of this stuff. I think I may drink through our stock soon.
Kote(glances at Bast): Enough Bast. (walks over and sits down across from Chronicler) Pull out your papers Chronicler. We’re not done yet

No comments:

Post a Comment