Post by Beefalo on Jan 21, 2016 23:03:28 GMT -4
This is a story I've been working on, I might add more parts if you like but who knows. Anyway, enough from me, get into the story ^-^
The Porridge Chronicles – Part I
Kir Buldahr was a small gnomish town. There were probably about five hundred residents, all centralised in a farming community with a small town square. Within that town square, the richest family, the Entons, gave birth to their first and only child, Alder. His full name was quite the mouthful, Alder Benezy Cedric Derek Enton VII, but his name does not matter. For his story is far more important. If all went to plan, little Alder would one day inherit his family’s riches and be in charge of Kir Buldahr, but of course, not everything goes to plan.
He was an ordinary child, quite smart and handsome by gnomish standards. Although, gnomes aren’t very handsome to anyone. His mother died at birth, leaving his father, Alder Benezy Cedric Derek Enton VI, to raise him on his lonesome. Little Alder loved to explore the nearby mountains, and his father would always go with him. The trip would usually end in Alder trapping a bug and keeping him. He didn’t have any friends, it was just him and his father, and whatever bug he had currently trapped.
But there was one fateful day where everything changed. Little Alder was no more than nine years old. He was looking for bugs near the side of a ledge. It was probably a ten or fifteen metre drop, if he so happened to fall. His father had warned him to be careful, and Alder dismissed the warning nonchalantly. He had been doing this for his whole life! He was chasing a bug around, trying to catch it in a jar. It looked shiny and rare, and he wanted it. Buggy XII, his most recent companion had recently passed, and his father took him out to get another one. The bug was extremely fast, and it ran further up the pass. The further the mountain pass went up, the narrower it became. Alder’s father warned him to not go any further, but again, Alder didn’t listen. He ran and dived for the bug, but he missed. He again got up and dusted himself and ran as fast as he could, but the inevitable happened. As he went to press the jar down he slipped and toppled over the side. He clawed onto the edge desperately, and his little hands found no purchase on the ledge. His father tried to catch him, but it was too late. He hit his head on a rock, and was instantly knocked unconscious. His father retrieved the lifeless Alder and ran back to town.
With tears streaming down his face and the whole of Kir Buldahr looking sympathetically at their esteemed leader, Alder’s father shamefully ran through the town square. He laid Alder’s body on his bed, and waited. He sat by his son’s side, patiently waiting every day. He had his bed moved into Alder’s room so he could sleep by his son. The town fell into semi-disarray until they voted a new leader, and deemed Alder VI unfit to rule. Alder VI’s manservant said that it was no-use, his son was gone, but he refused to believe it. Two months after the incident, he still hadn’t moved on. He was staring at his son’s lifeless body, when he could’ve sworn it moved. He yelped with excitement, and his manservant rushed to his aid. They watched again for a minute when the servant dismissed Alder’s father’s claim. But then something happened. He woke up. His eyes opened and darted around the room in wonder. His father was ecstatic. He asked his son if he remembered his name. Alder shook his head. His father told him his name and Alder replied with, “I don’t like that name.” The truth dawned on Alder VI. His son was brain-damaged. He wouldn’t be able to function normally for his entire life. He would always be looked at as stupid, simple, absent-minded, ‘special’. But he looked past it, and carried on like he normally would. For this was still his son. This was the little gnome he had lost his wife for, and he would love him until the day they died.
As it was early in the morning, he decided to cook his son some breakfast. His tenth birthday had passed during his coma, and he led the young alder by the hand down into the kitchen. Alder sat up on a stool at the table, and watched intently as his father made breakfast. He decided to make his son Porridge, one of his favourites. He put a ladle of porridge in his bowl and Alder’s, and took it to him. They began to eat, and Alder’s eyes widened. He obviously didn’t remember what Porridge was, and when he finished, he shakily asked his father what it was. “It’s Porridge, it’s one of your favourites.”
“I love porridge so much, I’m going to be called Porridge!” his son replied. Alder smiled at his son, Porridge. The name might take a bit of getting used to, but it was little Alder, little Porridge. He raised his son again. He would take him up to the mountains to catch bugs every Sunday, but would always avoid the pass where Porridge very nearly lost his life. And they lived together in happiness. He would sometimes try and home-school Porridge, but his mind would always wander to food. So he taught his son how to cook. So instead of Alder cooking every night, or the servant, it was Porridge. He made a fantastic stew, a divine steak, and best of all, he made possibly the best porridge in all the land. He tended to keep Porridge in the manor, as every time they would go out people would stare at their former leader and his simple son. But he knew that Porridge would achieve greatness. Sometimes he would see Little Alder in Porridge. He would have flashbacks, or would act incredibly like his old self, but only for brief moments. He was Porridge now, Porridge the Gnome. And his saga was only beginning.
The Porridge Chronicles – Part I
Kir Buldahr was a small gnomish town. There were probably about five hundred residents, all centralised in a farming community with a small town square. Within that town square, the richest family, the Entons, gave birth to their first and only child, Alder. His full name was quite the mouthful, Alder Benezy Cedric Derek Enton VII, but his name does not matter. For his story is far more important. If all went to plan, little Alder would one day inherit his family’s riches and be in charge of Kir Buldahr, but of course, not everything goes to plan.
He was an ordinary child, quite smart and handsome by gnomish standards. Although, gnomes aren’t very handsome to anyone. His mother died at birth, leaving his father, Alder Benezy Cedric Derek Enton VI, to raise him on his lonesome. Little Alder loved to explore the nearby mountains, and his father would always go with him. The trip would usually end in Alder trapping a bug and keeping him. He didn’t have any friends, it was just him and his father, and whatever bug he had currently trapped.
But there was one fateful day where everything changed. Little Alder was no more than nine years old. He was looking for bugs near the side of a ledge. It was probably a ten or fifteen metre drop, if he so happened to fall. His father had warned him to be careful, and Alder dismissed the warning nonchalantly. He had been doing this for his whole life! He was chasing a bug around, trying to catch it in a jar. It looked shiny and rare, and he wanted it. Buggy XII, his most recent companion had recently passed, and his father took him out to get another one. The bug was extremely fast, and it ran further up the pass. The further the mountain pass went up, the narrower it became. Alder’s father warned him to not go any further, but again, Alder didn’t listen. He ran and dived for the bug, but he missed. He again got up and dusted himself and ran as fast as he could, but the inevitable happened. As he went to press the jar down he slipped and toppled over the side. He clawed onto the edge desperately, and his little hands found no purchase on the ledge. His father tried to catch him, but it was too late. He hit his head on a rock, and was instantly knocked unconscious. His father retrieved the lifeless Alder and ran back to town.
With tears streaming down his face and the whole of Kir Buldahr looking sympathetically at their esteemed leader, Alder’s father shamefully ran through the town square. He laid Alder’s body on his bed, and waited. He sat by his son’s side, patiently waiting every day. He had his bed moved into Alder’s room so he could sleep by his son. The town fell into semi-disarray until they voted a new leader, and deemed Alder VI unfit to rule. Alder VI’s manservant said that it was no-use, his son was gone, but he refused to believe it. Two months after the incident, he still hadn’t moved on. He was staring at his son’s lifeless body, when he could’ve sworn it moved. He yelped with excitement, and his manservant rushed to his aid. They watched again for a minute when the servant dismissed Alder’s father’s claim. But then something happened. He woke up. His eyes opened and darted around the room in wonder. His father was ecstatic. He asked his son if he remembered his name. Alder shook his head. His father told him his name and Alder replied with, “I don’t like that name.” The truth dawned on Alder VI. His son was brain-damaged. He wouldn’t be able to function normally for his entire life. He would always be looked at as stupid, simple, absent-minded, ‘special’. But he looked past it, and carried on like he normally would. For this was still his son. This was the little gnome he had lost his wife for, and he would love him until the day they died.
As it was early in the morning, he decided to cook his son some breakfast. His tenth birthday had passed during his coma, and he led the young alder by the hand down into the kitchen. Alder sat up on a stool at the table, and watched intently as his father made breakfast. He decided to make his son Porridge, one of his favourites. He put a ladle of porridge in his bowl and Alder’s, and took it to him. They began to eat, and Alder’s eyes widened. He obviously didn’t remember what Porridge was, and when he finished, he shakily asked his father what it was. “It’s Porridge, it’s one of your favourites.”
“I love porridge so much, I’m going to be called Porridge!” his son replied. Alder smiled at his son, Porridge. The name might take a bit of getting used to, but it was little Alder, little Porridge. He raised his son again. He would take him up to the mountains to catch bugs every Sunday, but would always avoid the pass where Porridge very nearly lost his life. And they lived together in happiness. He would sometimes try and home-school Porridge, but his mind would always wander to food. So he taught his son how to cook. So instead of Alder cooking every night, or the servant, it was Porridge. He made a fantastic stew, a divine steak, and best of all, he made possibly the best porridge in all the land. He tended to keep Porridge in the manor, as every time they would go out people would stare at their former leader and his simple son. But he knew that Porridge would achieve greatness. Sometimes he would see Little Alder in Porridge. He would have flashbacks, or would act incredibly like his old self, but only for brief moments. He was Porridge now, Porridge the Gnome. And his saga was only beginning.
