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@joelle-stone

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I wanted to add a young boy acting as a page to come call on Aefflaed, my main character, to call her to the king, and in the process of the boy saying her name wrong, it kind of developed into this thing where the boy has a speech issue where he has trouble saying short vowels and going from one vowel to the next. I’ve seen something similar to this, with an autistic boy who was born with an under-developed larynx.

So, I decided that the boy has a past injury that gave him a damaged, perhaps half-destroyed, voice box. (and yes, I’ve done research on it, amazingly, people can still learn to talk, even without a fully functioning voice box!)

Here is the section with him in it. Please let me know if it is hard to understand him and whether or not his intonation make sense or if anything contradicts my description of him…

 

 

A young scyphozome boy in blue overalls and a white shirt came running up to the main medical tent. “Dahcter Aif’laid? Dahcter Aif’laid?”

I smiled and raised my hand. “Over here.” The boy couldn’t have been more than seven years old, but the hair on his chin made him look strangely older.

He ran over to me and jolted to a stop as I stood to my feet and wiped the dirt from my legs. Looking into the young child’s eyes, I smiled at him.

A tint of red flushed down his skin, from the base of his hair down to his bare feet, and then was gone. He reached out, grabbing my hand and pulling on it. “Cahm.”

“Calm?”

“Cahm, cahm.” he said, pulling me along. “Tha king wahnts yau. Cahm.”

I walked with him, but the boy turned and picked up his pace, continuing to pull me along. Just under his chin, I noticed a large scar ran from beneath his neck, under his jaw bone, and up to his right ear. The poor child. What had happened to him? Telling from the scar, it was an old wound, but what could have led such a small child to have such an injury?

Flashbacks to my own childhood invaded my mind, but I quickly pushed them aside as we approached the king’s tent.

Entering the canvassed tent, we came into the small hallway from before. Tut’ankh stood just in front of the main partition, a grim frown upon his face. His left arm was in a cast, and he did not look too happy to be there.

The boy let go of my hand and ran up to the towering evianian and ran his fingers down the commander’s flaming red wing feathers.  “Ahw.”

Tut’ankh brushed the boy aside and fluttered his wings to reset them. “Who is this?” he grumped.

“Naw, naw, I wahnt to say it.”

I bowed to the commander. “I am Aefflaed, sir.”

Tut’ankh pulled the partition aside and angled his head in. “Aefflaed, your highness-”

“Naw, lat me.” The boy jumped past Tut’ankh and put his hands out in front of him. “Ahn’nahncing the lay’dee Aif’laid.” He bowed his head down to his knees, popped back up, then ran back and pulled me by the hand. “Say, Say?”

“Thank you, Hadwin.” The king had a small smile on his face with an eyebrow raised as Hadwin let go of my hand and ran over to the king’s side.

I stepped forward and bowed. “My lord.” Hanniumm stood to the left of the king and Nuhro, the king’s top physician, stood to his right, just behind Hadwin.

“Yahx- umm.” Hadwin put his hand over his mouth, his skin tinting orange.

With nothing but a side glance toward Hadwin, the king turned his sight past me and nodded. I turned my head to follow his gaze. Yaxkin stood behind me, coming out of a bow.

King Sharrukin nodded toward Hadwin, and the boy ran past me and grabbed the side of Yaxkin’s pants. The stoic twin patted the boy on the head, turned, and left, Hadwin following.