• Reviews: Tale of the Week 257


    Reviews of Tale of the Week 257 stories by Admiral Van Tromp, Shankbot de Bodemloze, Socrates1984 and Mhaedros
    Reviewed by Caillagh de Bodemloze and Alwyn


    If you like to write and if you enjoy a challenge, the Tale of the Week competition in the Writers' Study could be for you. Each competition has a theme and an image, to inspire the imagination of writers. Each competition includes a challenge: entries must contain the key words and be no longer than 500 words. You can find the theme, the image and the key words for Tale of the Week 257 below, followed by four great entries and our reviews.


    Troll





    Keywords:

    Monster
    Light
    Claws
    Break
    Captive




    Tale by Admiral Van Tromp
    And thus arose the great lion of Iskat
    From the precipice upon which he sat.
    Its claws clinging to ancient stone.
    Its jaws eager to part meat from bone.

    The monster roared, loud as thunder.
    The hero looked on in fear and wonder.
    Brave Uruzar warning did receive,
    But he could see the silver captive.

    A swan, shining like the sun in the sea
    Struck by the beast on wing and knee.
    Uruzar saw divinity in its silver light.
    Surely it was heavenly bright.

    His heart did then decide to defy
    The beast that could roar courage dry.
    For Uruzar shielded the weak
    And he had to save a being so meek.

    The lion saw that Uruzar was resolute
    And wondered how much courage it took
    To challenge the great terror of Iskat
    Without flinching or losing his heart.

    The adversaries did measure each other,
    The bringer of chaos and the champion of order.
    The swan looked on in doubt and pain,
    Certain the noble attempt would be in vain.

    The beast of Iskat over Uruzar did fly,
    The hero’s spear thrusting in reply.
    Piercing only air with its sharp tip,
    Dodging the tail, that cracked like a whip.

    He lifted the shield above his head
    To block fearsome claws eager to shred.
    The lion circled around his feet
    And every blow did the shield meet.

    Uruzar needed to find the one chance
    To put an end to this deadly dance.
    As the beast wouldn’t soon tire,
    Its heart raging like a blinding pyre.

    Fury made the terror’s strength great
    Perhaps it could as easily seal its fate.
    For terrible anger, if not contained
    Is prey to those who keep it restrained.

    Uruzar had only to wait and defend
    Until the lion itself gave way to its end.
    As the claws fell down on the shield,
    He prayed to the gods and did not yield.

    Soon its attention did momently slip
    And Uruzar buried the spear deep.
    He stabbed the core of the lion of Iskat,
    Piercing though the monster’s heart.

    The agonizing creature howled in pain.
    Bathing in blood, blind and insane.
    It quickly fell down over its own weight
    For its own fury did its might break.

    The swan waved its wings in vain,
    Its body broken and trembling in pain.
    But it was safe from the lion of Iskat
    Whose fierce chest got torn apart.

    Uruzar for the bird’s misfortune did weep
    And admiring its light he did sorely sit.
    He could not be ready for the surprise
    That soon took place before his eyes.

    For he was right when he deemed divine
    The way the swan did in silver shine.
    As before him arose in beauty and grace
    The holy Edali, with gratitude in her face.

    With great joy the hero then realised
    That the silver swan was the goddess disguised.
    Edali gave him her daughter’s hand for the feat,
    As the monstrous lion laid dead in defeat.


    Review by Caillagh de Bodemloze Admiral Van Tromp tells us the moral tale of Uruzar battling the lion of Iskat to save a swan. Most of us, I think, would not consider a swan – even a shining silver swan, such as this one – worth the sacrifice of our lives, but Uruzar sees an innocent and beautiful being, attacked by a vicious brute, and steps in to defend the injured bird.

    There are, undeniably, some technical weaknesses in the poem. However, the story Admiral Van Tromp tells us is a heroic tale in the mould of St George and the Dragon; the kind of epic that should be able to survive a few wobbles in the metre and rhyme scheme. We are told that “Uruzar shielded the weak”. We might assume that Uruzar is acting not from the hope of personal gain, but purely because he believes it is right for the strong to protect those who are unable to defend themselves. Indeed, that description of Uruzar suggests very strongly that his usual behaviour would be to defend the innocent, regardless of who they might be. But in this case, we are told early in the poem – in the third stanza – that Uruzar “...saw divinity in [the swan’s] silver light.” It would seem that Uruzar felt the gods had a particular interest in this swan.

    Admiral Van Tromp’s description of the battle works well, telling us enough to show how the fight is progressing, while not overwhelming us with detail. We see them “measuring each other” before the fight begins, and we watch as Uruzar fights defensively while the lion attempts to shred him with its claws. Finally, we are told the lion’s own fury has defeated him, and – of course – Uruzar is triumphant. And we discover that he was right to think the gods were interested in this contest, for the swan was none other than a goddess in disguise.

    The tale has a clear moral: it is right to defend the weak, to look out for other people who need our help. In this, it is reminiscent of many of the world’s religious teachings. Indeed, it contains a goddess – so perhaps in his own world Uruzar would be considered a saint.


    Tale by Shankbot de Bodemloze From the top of the mountain side Gareth looked down upon the hooman city in all its glory - it's persistent light radiating out, fighting against the encroaching darkness. He let out a deep sigh, wishing he could be down there amongst the lights, amongst the people! "Why do they view us as monsters, Big Toe? Why can't we live together in peace?"

    Big Toe was an older troll, his sizeable claws giving away his age, but they had become fast friends in the colony that had inhabited this particular mountain side, even since Gareth and his parents had moved from Trollville to a more rural home. Big Toe looked up from the whole chicken he was chewing on, wiping his mouth clean with his wrist before scratching his chin thoughtfully, "Because Pinkie, the hoomans hunt us for these," he said gesturing to his claws, using his affectionate name for Gareth. "We tried living with the hoomans but they kept wanting more so we had to defend ourselves."

    "But those wars were so long ago, surely now we could try again? I mean look at those lights!" came the Gareth's excited response.

    Big Toe paused to look down upon the city, "Looks like stars too me Pinkie, we have a better view from this mountainside." He shook is head sadly, "You're too young to understand, Thumb over there was held captive by the hoomans for a long long time, if he hadn't managed to break free with Ring Fing and Little Piggie they would have taken him for his claws, he's the only survivor from those wars left now but still remembers it clear as day." He pointed over to Thumb, a once large Troll bent crooked with age, with long grey whiskers drooping down either side of his contorted face. "Plus, we have nice chicken here," and with that Big Toe tucked back into his dinner.

    Gareth let out a sigh, these conversations always ended the same - but he was determined when he was an adult Troll he would go and visit the hoomans and discover how they make light stay during the night.


    Review by Caillagh de Bodemloze As his entry for TotW 257, Shankbot de Bodemloze gave us a tale of life among the trolls. His protagonist is Gareth, a young troll who feels confined by the restrictions placed on him by his elders.

    Big Toe, an older troll, is sure that the restrictions are for Gareth’s own benefit. It must be admitted that he has convincing evidence on his side – there have been wars between the trolls and the “hoomans”, because the “hoomans” coveted the trolls’ claws. Gareth thinks that since the wars were long ago, it should be safe for a troll to visit the humans now, but Big Toe is not so sure that the humans will have forgotten their animosity towards the trolls.

    The story is full of warmth and humour, using names related to fingers (Pinkie and Ring Fing – and Thumb) and toes (Big Toe and Little Piggie) for the trolls, and describing in convincing detail Big Toe eating the chicken he enjoys so much, and wiping his face. But although the affection between the characters is clearly real, the conflict between them is also clearly a genuine one.

    On the one hand, we have Gareth (“Pinkie”), the young troll who wants to be able to escape and explore; who feels certain that “hoomans” must surely be capable of being reasonable and friendly; and who feels a compelling attraction to the bright lights of the human city. It seems impossible to fault his desire for knowledge, or his wish to befriend the humans.

    On the other hand (or foot), however, we have Big Toe. It may be that Big Toe just doesn’t understand Gareth’s longing for adventure, but it seems more likely that Big Toe is at least partly concerned to protect Gareth – and, by extension, the rest of the trolls. There is obviously a risk that the “hoomans” will still want to hunt, capture, and presumably kill trolls to get their claws. If Big Toe deliberately chose not to warn Gareth of the risk, we would no doubt say that he had behaved badly by doing so, because his failure would put Gareth in danger.

    And yet we can’t help feeling – despite the “nice chicken” – it is right that Gareth should leave home, and make his own choices, and take his own risks. And we can’t help hoping that this time maybe things will be different. Maybe it will be possible to teach the “hoomans” that trolls are people, too. And maybe – just maybe – Gareth will learn the secret of the lights that burn all night.


    Tale by Socrates1984 "This light is hurting my eyes!"
    Close them quick. Yes, better now. Wait. What are these shadows in front of my face? Have they put something in front of the light's source? No, certainly not. But, is it coming from my own face? It can't be. Are these tusks? My own tusks?!

    "Good night honey..."
    Oh, man, is it possible to still feel in love with this girl? I must be the luckiest man in the world. Well, the guys at work are constantly making fun of me, but it's not heir fault. I was the one to share my situation with this sweetest girlfriend of mine and my feelings for her. Tomorrow though I will show them.

    "I have got to break free!"
    If only I could twist my wrist a bit more! Like them or not, these claws look dangerously sharp. They seem to be the natural extension of my new muscular arms. Wait, these bonds. Maybe I could try... My body looks hideously strong and enlarged.

    "Sooo. Who's gonna come with me? The Knicks are playing tonight."
    Too much time with my girlfriend, huh? Yeah, that's the response I was hoping for guys. Who's his girlfriend's pet now?

    "It's dark in here. But I can see?"
    No colors, but all shapes as clear as in daylight. GOD DAMN! I didn't see that pond! It's all wet and damp down here. Maybe if I let the waters calm, I could see my reflection.

    No wonder they were holding me captive. I've become a monster.


    Review by Caillagh de Bodemloze We begin by assuming the narrator is an ordinary human being – from the way the light hurts his eyes, perhaps a man with a hangover, or perhaps he’s ill…

    ...but if he is ill, we rapidly see that this is no ordinary illness, for our narrator has tusks. Worse than that, he is surprised by this discovery. It seems the tusks are new, and unexpected.

    There is another element to our narrator’s story, though. He has a girlfriend. A girlfriend he cares for deeply. A girlfriend he trusts enough to have told her about the transformation he is undergoing. We cannot help feeling sympathy for this man. We have no reason to think he has asked for this metamorphosis – he certainly seems to have no idea what changes he’s going to experience. He is, naturally, startled to discover them. We wonder how he will manage to carry on living his life – and so does he, amazed that even though he seems to have become something new, he still feels the same love for his girlfriend as he did before.

    He also has friends. Well, no, not friends; work-colleagues. The first thing he tells us about them is that they make fun of him constantly… And then the situation is turned on its head in a single, brief sentence, because the second thing he tells us about them is that he intends to use his new muscles, and claws, and tusks, to take revenge against the people who have mocked him.

    But things are still not quite what we had thought. Our narrator is not simply wondering about his future as a changed man: he is bound, and trying to escape, and it seems he has succeeded. We see him gloating that although his friends have called him his girlfriend’s “pet”, he is now not someone who could be a pet to anyone. We sense that he is more of a wild animal than a pet, and that he intends to demonstrate his new ferocity on the bodies of his colleagues. But it seems he does not yet know quite how changed he is, for the biggest shock awaiting him is the sight of his reflection in a pond – and the realisation that he is not just a changed human, but a monster.

    We can’t help but agree – although we may think his monstrosity has little to do with his new appearance...


    Tale by Mhaedros
    Beneath the hills north of the village lived a friendly old troll named Humharumph. During the long winter nights the elders in the city would tell tales from their own childhoods, of when the kindly old troll would stroll down the hills and visit upon the humans at the same time as the first flowers grew in the ditches around the village. Then he would play with the children as the parents worked, and when fall came he would help the farmers bring in the harvest with his monstrous strength. For he was no monster; everybody loved Humharumph the helpful troll.

    But one spring when Humharumph came down to the settlement, all he could find was blood and fire. He screamed in agony, as he recognized the charred bodies piled outside the biggest hut in the village. He had seen every one of those souls grow up, only to end this way! But soon he ceased his cry, when he heard a voice crying with him. A small girl had escaped, and told him her tale.

    A nearby baron had sent soldiers to tax the village for protection against the evil old troll living in the hills, and when the farmers protested and claimed the troll was their friend, they burnt and pillaged the heathen peasants along with their homes. But not all the people had been killed; many had been taken captive back to the baron’s castle, and it did not take Humharumph any convincing to try saving his friends.

    He came to the fortress under cover of darkness, carrying a massive tree he had found in the forest. Ready to start battering the doors he unleashed a terrifying growl, dark and loud enough to make the walls of the castle tremble. Then he started battering the tree against the gates with such force that they shattered before him. The soldiers on guard barely had time to scream before his raging claws caught them, but he made sure not to hurt anyone who threw their weapons.

    The baron looked down at the tumult from his balcony and screamed “What do you want, wicked old troll?!”

    The troll looked back up with a burning in his eyes and said “I am here for my friends, who you enslaved, whose homes you burnt and whose children you would break beneath your heels.”

    The baron had little choice but to release the villagers he had captured, and return them to their homes with enough tools and supplies to rebuild many times what he had destroyed. But Humharumph was never the same. For a time he would visit the village as he used to, but the memory of the horror never left his eyes. One spring he never came at all, and the friendly old troll became but a memory of the children he saved. But the village was never attacked again, because everyone knew; the village of Humharumph was protected.


    Review by Alwyn
    This tale by Mhaedros uses the style and tone of a fairytale or folk story. Characters are defined by their virtues or vices. There is a villain, a hero and a village in danger, but the villain and the hero are not the people we might have expected them to be. Folk tales are often predictable, with simplistic heroes defeating two-dimensional monsters. Mhaedros defies that expectation with the twist that the troll, who we might expect to be an evil monster, is the kind friend of the village, while the baron is the oppressor.

    In a very short story such as a Tale of the Week entry, writers face the challenge of creating characters we can relate to and places we can imagine, while using as few words as possible. This story meets that challenge brilliantly. When Humharumph the troll is introduced, we are told about his virtues: he is kindly and helps the villagers. Conversely, when the baron is introduced, we are shown his vices. Initially his character is shown through his behaviour, and then it is also shown through his prejudiced view of Humharumph ("wicked old troll") - which we see is directly opposed to the experience of the villagers, who think of Humharumph as a "kindly old troll". When the village is attacked, Mhaedros conveys the terrible harm which the villagers have suffered in just a few words: "all he could find was blood and fire." Mhaedros tells us indirectly about the attack on the village through the troll's reaction (he screams) and through a survivor, a small girl who tells him what has happened. The combination of this terse description, Humharumph's scream and the small girl's story of what happened is an effective one. In a few words, Mhaedros has created a powerful impact on the reader. The fact that Humharumph has only arrived after the damage has been done also helps to build the emotional effect. While reading this part of Mhaedros’s story, I was reminded of the description of Balin’s doomed dwarf colony in Moria in JRR Tolkien’s fantasy epic The Fellowship of the Ring. That, similarly, creates a feeling of loss and desolation which is amplified because the events have already happened; the people in danger cannot be saved.

    The little girl tells Humharumph why the baron carried out such a terrible attack: he wanted to tax the villagers, claiming their taxes would pay for protection from the troll. It is obvious that this is a lie – that the baron just wanted the money – because he refused to believe the farmers who told him the troll was their friend. Indeed, he had the villagers killed or captured for objecting to his new tax. Not only is he greedy, but he is prepared to lie and kill to get what he wants. By contrast, when the troll attacks the baron's fortress, he carefully avoids attacking guards who throw away their weapons. There is no doubt who is the hero and who the villain of this fairytale.

    At the end, the story finds another way to stir the hearts of its readers: even after his death, the kindly old troll Humharumph protects the village, through his reputation as its defender.


    Thank you for reading! We hope that these great tales and our reviews will inspire more people to submit stories of your own. You can find our Tale of the Week competition in the Writers' Study. We also have competitions for writers of After Action Reports (AARs) and creative writing - and, if you enjoy sharing your screenshots or videos, we recommend visiting our friends in the Artists' Studio and taking part in their competitions!
    Comments 4 Comments
    1. Commissar Caligula_'s Avatar
      Commissar Caligula_ -
      Oh god one day you might attempt to finding deep meaning in one of my Tales?
      Good luck if it ever comes to that.

      On a serious note, if anyone is reading this who hasn't participated in the Tale of the Week before, you should! I've only participated in two so far, but it's been way more fun that I would've imagined and it isn't cringeworthy in the least.
    1. Mhaedros's Avatar
      Mhaedros -
      Lovely reviews for one of the best TOTW turnouts recently! And of course the narcissist in me loves the kind words, even though "greedy baron" is a trope as old as time -
    1. Shankbot de Bodemloze's Avatar
      Shankbot de Bodemloze -
      Excellent reviews, a big thanks to both Alwyn and Caillagh for their work.
    1. Admiral Van Tromp's Avatar
      Admiral Van Tromp -
      Good work on the reviews!

      Uruzar is more of a Gilgamesh or Hercules type of figure. He builds a city (Uruzarhad) with the goddess' daughter after the defeat of the lion, where he is worshipped as mythical founding king. There's reference to this legend and poem in Chapter I of my The Tale of the White Leopard.

      Glad the story is able to convey some emotion and message past the "technical" problems.