Fy Chwedl

[earenor]

So this is the begining to the Prologue of my story:

I woke to a deep, swirling, gray mist. I sat up and found that the fog had an almost unnatural feel to it and I could only see within five feet of my self. I scanned around what I could see and achieved a greater bearing of my camp. I paced the clearing in search for Camang only to find that he had disappeared from camp. I heard a twig snap and saw the light out line of an animal but it slunk of deeper into the mist. And upon closer examination, I found four sets of tracks around the clearing, one of a person and the others were that of a dogs or wolves. I then began to back up to the tree, under whose out stretched arms I rested. I began to grope for the hilt of Elthalion when I heard a command out in the mist, “Egwyddorion, Rhew!” then cutting the air an arrow thudding into the tree beside my head. Elements of this attack finally pieced together in my mind.
“This unnatural mist, tracks of a man and wolves, and an arrow whose tip glints with ice. I know you’re in the mist about three trees back. Come now show yourself… I said show yourself, bard,” as I said this the fog parted and a cloaked boy with glowing yellow eyes and three wolves behind him, he stood there with his bow drawn.
He yelled, “Egwyddorion, Am-drio!”
He shot his arrow, I grabbed Elthalion I tried to dive forward and found I was stuck in place by ice clinging to my cloak, and another arrow came flying out of the mist, which came from a completely different direction. Out of the mist, a wolf dove snatching this arrow in its maw and trotted off. The elemental arrow flew back behind me and I heard a grunted curse and then footfalls quickly receding from behind me. And the wolves darted off into the mist and were followed by a procession of howls of the pack in pursuit. He began to stride forward and as he approached, he swept off his hood. And there stood Connor, the son of my father’s bard, and my dear wolf-eyed, bard friend.
“Ah. Bother it is good to see you again,” I bellowed at him, “What brings you out this way?”

[twyrch]

Great! Very interesting prologue. If I might make a few suggestions though...

Be careful how much you start off a sentance with the the word "I" when writing first person. Mix it up a bit... Here's an example of what I mean....

I woke to a deep, swirling, gray mist. I sat up and found that the fog had an almost unnatural feel to it and I could only see within five feet of my self. I scanned around what I could see and achieved a greater bearing of my camp. I paced the clearing in search for Camang only to find that he had disappeared from camp. I heard a twig snap and saw the light out line of an animal but it slunk of deeper into the mist. And upon closer examination, I found four sets of tracks around the clearing, one of a person and the others were that of a dogs or wolves. I then began to back up to the tree, under whose out stretched arms I rested. I began to grope for the hilt of Elthalion when I heard a command out in the mist, “Egwyddorion, Rhew!” then cutting the air an arrow thudding into the tree beside my head. Elements of this attack finally pieced together in my mind.

Sometimes, you can remove the "I" but still keep the description by rewording the sentance. Perhaps something more like this, for example....

"I woke to a deep, swirling, gray mist. The fog around me had an almost unnatural feel to it and I could only see within five feet of myself. I scanned the area to achieve a greater bearing of my camp and then paced the clearing in search for Camang only to find that he had disappeared from camp. A twig snapped and, for a moment, the light out line of an animal was visible, but it slunk off deeper into the mist. Upon closer examination, I found four sets of tracks around the clearing, one of a person and the others were that of a dogs or wolves. I backed up to the tree, under whose out stretched arms I rested and began groping for the hilt of Elthalion when I heard a command out in the mist, “Egwyddorion, Rhew!” then cutting the air an arrow thudding into the tree beside my head. Elements of this attack finally pieced together in my mind."

I hope that helps a bit.... Otherwise, I really liked it.

[earenor]

wow... i had forgoten i'd posted here... oh the dreams of days gone by.... well here is where that minniature peice ended up... its now currently been rewritten, after a good year and a half of time away from writting, and thanks for the tip twrch, i actually only got it the other day when i was wasting time googling the names of my characters.....

THE MOURNING FOG
There beneath the canopy of the Ataritaur Forest, the fog crept slowly across the forest floor getting denser every passing moment. The wind carried the whispers of war, the trees wailed at the carnage of wars that had spread across the Clans, and a weary young man, Eärenor, sat up rubbing his eyes. That night sleep had come to him fitfully and tired as he was he stood and walked over to the edge of the creek that ran beside the camp, stooping low he splashed his face with the icy water breaking the last clinging dregs of sleep from him. With a pot he had taken from camp he scooped up some water and set about lighting a fire in the ring his companion had been using for the last few nights. Striking flint against a bit of steel he had as the sparks cascaded down into the nest of tinder that he had gathered, and soon the sparks were smoldering and warmth and light slowly crept back into a small sphere of their camp, as fire took. Eärenor sat still and stared into the fire, as the water heated over a crackling blaze and as the water boiled he dropped in some fresh linen stripes to clean and redress his recently acquired wound, from his shoulder down across his chest. Every night sleep came fitfully and with dreams of fire and pain, he would also wake in a sweat remembering his duel with Tirphog. In the flames dancing back and forth locked in combat, clashing again and again, flashes of swords and blazes of fire as Tirphog and Eärenor clashed in their fight over and over again. Unable to take it Eärenor closed his eyes and in the darkness his anger quickly began to consume him and he felt as though the his fire, itself was growing in intensity. As his emotions began to take over his consciousness; the higher the flames rose till they were a solid pillar of white heat burning through the canopy of the forest. In his mind Eärenor began force a calmness to take over his mind, by creating a void in his mind; as yet another image traced across his waking mind, of his father’s broken body hanging from the walls he had built. But as he began to clam down he also sensed a strange foreboding that had crept upon him. He stood and produced a knife from a fold in his cloak, pacing camp he looked for his companion who seemed to have vanished in the fog. The ground of the camp was littered with the tracks of wolves, and different boots tracks. One of the many crossing tracks was still very fresh, he slow backed himself to the tree where his sword was leaning, his arm dove for the hilt, “Egwyddorion, Rhew!” a shout came from the fog. A single hole formed in the fog as an arrow pierced his shirt and cloak and ice forming holding him in place against the tree.
“The elements of your attack aren’t that foreign to me… Bard. I know you’re in the mist about three trees back. Show yourself… I said show yourself, bard,” the fog parted to reveal a hooded figure whose eyes glowered a burnished gold even at the distance, with three wolves poised to dart, surrounding him. The figure nocked an arrow with deadly speed and drew it back.
“Egwyddorion, Am-drio!” He yelled.
He loosed his arrow, stuck to the tree Eärenor, tried to swing himself across to grab his sword with his unstuck arm. When another arrow drove into his sight, he swung his sword to parry but would have been to late. A wolf dove out of the mist, snatched the arrow out of the air, and trotted off into the mist. The elemental arrow flew over Eärenor’s shoulder and there was a screamed curse as footsteps pounded off into the deeper forest. With out so much as a word from the bard the wolves took off, in different directions, hunting the attackers who were escaping.
The hooded bard strode towards him and with two fingers he pointed at the tree and spoke, “Hufel.” The ice melted away, leaving the arrow which Eärenor promptly snapped and pulled free of the tree. About halving the distance the hooded bard pulled off his hood, showing his young face to him.
“Connor my dear friend, what brings you out this way? But it is good to see you,” Eärenor bellowed at him.
They strode toward each other and they grasped forearms and giving each other a hearty thumping. “It is good to see you alive, brother,” as Connor said this a grin crept across his face but his eyes held onto a sorrow. “I’m on my way to retrieve the torcs and the crowns. I also go to prepare for your coronation. And to honor those who died in the battle and bury them.”
“Ah… brother you needn't worry your self over that…. I hold in my keeping three of the torcs and the two crowns. But I’ll keep them to give to you before the people and with that my abdication from the throne of our people,” Eärenor sighed with some relief, “I also buried them all with a cairn, there were too many carrion to take the time to bury individually. But your father and my parents went into the royal tombs. May Defydd rest their souls.”
“So you went back? Even against his will. It isn’t your fault; you didn’t choose your parents to be Guardians. Is it not true that seeing that you feel at fault for this destruction? At least you didn’t have to stand by and watch. Your birth didn’t affect your parents’ choices they did it to safe guard those they loved and served. You give yourself too much credit; you hold no blame in this matter. So what will you do now, where do you go if you will not be king? Eärenor, I’ll now pass on the words my father told me before I left to watch the desolation from the Caves: ‘Don’t try and help what has come to pass, but live for what you can change with your life. Do not live here, were I died; live in the present. The future can change, nothing in life is certain,’” Connor consoled him.
“Th… Thank you, brother. How is Deanor, did he make it with our group of refugees?” Eärenor forced a smile, though his conscience was filled with worthlessness.

well this isn't all there is but i'll let that rest for a bit... and the total of it is near 20some pages with this prologue and my first chapter... i also ditched the first person, what a relief! At adoedded ac an heddyclon darfod.