Ending Scene… Too sudden? Help appreciated and desired! 23K words
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The book is 61k words =) A small novel, but I like it… just rough draft right now… This scene is just after the final major, massive, epic battle scene that lasts for 11k words!!!! (yeah… I know….) Would love to hear what you think. Especially about the kings talk with Aefflaed ( the protagonist), if it makes sense, if it flows, if it makes sense, if the problems are solved by the dialogue, and whether it ends too abruptly or not…
but really, any help is greatly greatly appreciated!
@everyone
“Aefflaed, my dear,” the king addressed. “General Hanniumm speaks highly of your skills, and doctor Nuhro concurs. In treating our war hero and bringing him home, you have done this nation an exceptional service. Doctor Nuhro also says you were an instrumental support in the battle’s aftermath. As such, we would like to honor you with a request to come work in the capital as a court physician.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. Me? A court physician? But that was reserved for the greatest of physicians.
“You would work under doctor Nuhro, here, and your old mentor, doctor Adalwin.”
My lorthew? My heart leapt at the chance to see him again, but a court physician? Did I truly deserve such a station?
“My lord.” I bowed my head, lowering down to my knees. “I am unworthy.”
King Sharrukin narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward. “My dear, you have the expert recommendations of my top general and two of my best physicians. Do you feign to claim their testimonies as false?
“I- no, your highness. I am honored they would think so highly of me. But…”
Leaning against the side of the throne, the king held his chin in hand. “But you still doubt yourself.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Leave us,” the king ordered with a wave of his hand.
Nuhro and Hanniumm left the king’s side and walked toward the exit behind me. Hanniumm slowed as he passed, giving me a short nod of encouragement. His eyes were filled with concern for me, but his smile was of confidence – as if to say, everything will be alright; just trust him as I did.
Alone with the king, my courage left me, though I tried to hold onto the hopes Hanniumm had for me. But could I really live up to them?
“Now, my dear,” the king began. “I believe the question was whether you are worthy, so let me ask you a question.”
I bowed my head, unsure of what to expect.
“Do you have any memory of before you were born?”
My eyes shot up. “Sir?”
“Before you were born into this world, as you lay in your mother’s womb, did you have any power to decide what race you were to be?
“Um, no sir!”
“Were you able to decide what you would look like, or what gender you were to be?”
“No.”
“Were you able to determine for yourself what your strengths or weaknesses would be?”
Why was he asking these things of me? “No, sir.”
“Well, then did you have any power over who your parents were or in what circumstances you were born in?”
“Sire?”
“Did you choose your family?”
“No sir.”
“And did you have any control over those around you? Could you determine what they said or did to you? Did you have any power over their commands?”
My head dropped. What other people said and did. I remembered much of what others said and did to me. “No,” I muttered.
“One more question then, my daughter.” His voice was strangely kind, not condemning. Not what I expected in the least. “Is there anything truly yours that has not been given to you?”
Anything? My knowledge came from my teachers. My disposition from my mother, and my personality shaped by my past, was it not? From the king’s line of questions, I couldn’t say my body, for I had no power over that. It was given to me upon birth. My mind as well. I could say my choices were my own, but were they not determined by my mind and my knowledge? Both given to me and not of my own?
My head bowed lower. “I- I don’t know.”
The king’s smile could be heard in his tone. “Then, as one whom much has been given, how well have you stewarded what has been given?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Water threatened to overflow my eyes. “My… past is filled with evil deeds, my lord. I am unworthy to stand before you.”
“My child, your worth was never yours to determine.”
A hand touched my shoulder, sending shivers down my spine. The king was kneeling in front of me, love written across his countenance. A tear escaped my lashes.
“Nor is it something that changes, regardless of your actions. A flower’s worth does not diminish, even though it wilts after a day.” His hand graced the tip of my chin. “How much more unfathomable is your worth, my dear.”
“But my lord, my past-”
The king stood and turned, his arms crossed behind his back. “Did you desire evil?”
The question hurt. Not so much because he had to ask but because of the truth. “Sometimes.”
“Do you still?”
“No.”
“Then leave the past behind you, where it belongs.” King Sharrukin sat in his chair and crossed his hands upon his leg.
“But my lord-”
“I am less worried about your past, child, and more concerned of your future. Although your past may help define you, the deciding factor is who you are presently in relation to your future. For it is possible to overcome one’s past, but impossible to escape one’s future. And although you cannot escape your future, the one thing that affects it is your present choices, my dear.”
My past could be overcome? But how?
“Now, let me ask again, doctor, do you still doubt yourself?”
“Not my skill, my lord. My lorthew taught me well, but…” My shoulders shook as I looked up and pleaded with him. “How can I overcome my past? Can I be forgiven?”
“Is it fair to say you have done wrong of your own volition?”
“No, my lord. It was on the order of another.”
“I see.
“But I could have fought against it,” I quickly amended.
“If you had, would they have found another to take your place?”
My shoulders dropped. “Most likely.”
“Then the ones who own the guilt are the ones who ordered you. The responsibility lies with them. Now, for your own guilty consciousness, the one you desire forgiveness from is yourself.”
“My lord-”
“If you had wronged another, I would have advised you to go to that person for forgiveness, but as it is, you were merely the tool of evil men. Men who used you and took advantage of you. Am I wrong?”
My head touched the ground. “No, my lord.”
“Then let this be a mends to this,” he stated. “I offer again the position of court physician, doctor Aefflaed. Accept, and I shall take full responsibility for you. I will attest to your character and be your advocate. As my direct subordinate, I shall subsume all of your guilt until that time in which you are able to forgive yourself. Is that acceptable?”
Tears flowed down. Was he really suggesting what I thought? Was he taking responsibility for all my past ill deeds? “My lord, I can’t let you-”
“You would deign restrict me?” his voice rose in warning.
“No, my lord. It’s just-”
“This is my choice to give, dear Aefflaed,” his voice was firm and unmoving. “Your choice is not to decide for me, but for yourself. Will you accept my offered gift, or refuse? That is the choice before you. None other.”
To be under the king’s authority, as Hanniumm was… It wasn’t so much a question of whether or not I trusted the king, but more of whether I deserved such honor.
I wanted to laugh at the irony. The king had already answered that for me. His own words to Hanniumm bounded across my memory. “I shall be the judge of who is worthy of me, not you.” I was sure he would say much the same thing should I question my own worth again. So, I guessed the real question actually came down to, did I actually trust him.
Looking up into the king’s regal face, I knew my answer. “It shall be as you say, my lord. I accept.” Still, one question nagged at me. “My lord, may I ask one thing?”
“Anything, my dear.”
My guilt cascaded across my heart and reverberated through my soul, keeping me from speaking clearly as I babbled off, “How can I ever forgive myself?”
“Come here, my child.” The king motioned for me to stand next to him, but all I could do was edge forward and rest my head on his knees, grasping the robe near his feet. My tears wetting his sandaled feet.
“You see this white robe I wear?” asked the king.
I made an odd grunt of an affirmation.
“If I were to dirty my robe in my travels, would I rub it down with a dirty rag to clean it?”
“No, my lord. Of course not.”
“Of course not,” he repeated. “And even if I wiped it down with a clean rag, is that any promise that my robe would be clean?”
“No, I guess not.”
King Sharrukin shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t. It would need to be properly washed, no?
I nodded my head.
“Or replaced.”
“But sire, what does that have to do-”
“With you?” the king smiled. “You fear your past has dirtied your soul, and no amount of good deeds could wash that guilt away. Am I right?”
I was tired of crying. How did he know me so?
“But my dear, you are no longer the woman you once were.”
I gazed up into his eyes, seeking the answer to the riddle he spoke of. No longer the woman I once was?
“Once a slave, you are now free. Once lost, you have now found purpose.” He brushed his hand across my cheek. “Once forced to do evil, you desire only good for those around you, and you work tirelessly upon their behalf. You have turned from evil and desire only good. Is that not a brand new robe you wear about yourself?”
“Is that enough?” I asked, a final tear descending.
“That is a question for the Maker, my dear. But to my eyes, your heart is as pure and sincere as they come. Take solace in that.”
The king dismissed me. Stiffly walking out from under the pavilion, my body moved, but my mind was still reeling. Had he really said all those things? Had he really accepted me for who I was? It felt like invisible bonds were dropping from my wrist, neck, and ankles; the burden lifted. Was I truly free?
A pair of bare feet stood in my path. I looked up into Hanniumm’s face, water flooding my eyes once more. Hanniumm was well; Cairbre was vanquished; the battle finished; and the king had taken me in.
“Is it over?” I whispered. “Is it truly over?”
Hanniumm pulled me close and hugged me tight. “It’s over,” he said. “It really is.”
______________
<p style=”text-align: center;”>
Three Years Later</p>The little boy bounced on my knee, looking up at me with glee. The blue of his left eye shone with wonder, while his green right eye gave his smile a mischievous aire. Just like his father’s.
Hanniumm placed his hand across my shoulders and smiled at us, then looked out across the palace garden. Commoners and court dignitaries alike mingled and dallied across the trails.
Tarvis sniffed the small child and nubbed his hand when he tried to pet him. The old wolf’s fur was turning gray, and he could almost pass as a domestic pet, though most people gave him a wide berth.
The child squirmed about, so I set him down. He wobbled after Tarvis, patting him vertically on the side and pulling his fur.
“He’s about naming age.” Hanniumm gazed deeply and lovingly at the boy, a soft smile upon his lips.
My heart melted every time I watched him watch our son. No love was deeper, which endeared me all the more to him. Truly, I was blessed.
Some neighboring kids chose teams and played a game, but one child was pushed aside and left behind.
Falling to his hands, our child crawled over to the boy, Tarvis following close behind. The toddler reached out a hand and patted the other boy’s knee. Grabbing his hand, our boy pulled him over to touch Tarvis’ fur. Vocalizing a garbled version of words, our child spoke.
The other boy’s face lightened up, and he began to pet Tarvis, talking softly to our son.
How precious. Pacing a hand over my heart, I looked up at Hanniumm.
His eyes watered as he watched our son, then looked down at me. “I’m so proud of him, our little boy.”
I smiled at him and grabbed his hand, pulling it close to my chest. “Then let that be his name.”
Hanniumm tilted his head.
“Abirami,” I said. “Father is proud.”
Hanniumm tested the name out. “Abirami.” Looking up, he smiled. “My little Abirami.” Then he gazed at me with those same deep, loving eyes. “It’s perfect.” Leaning down, we kissed.
Abirami, my son. May your life be blessed, as mine. Born out of love forged from trial. But oh, I would not trade the pain of my past for anything in this world. No, for now I’d found love and a family. My life was complete.
I stood hand in hand with my husband, watching over our son, our hearts full.
“Abirami,” called Hanniumm.
Abirami looked up at us, a look of curiosity on his face.
“Come, Abirami.” Hanniumm held his hands out, and a grin crept over Abirami’s face. He crawled over, babbling on, and reached out to be picked up.
Hoisted up, Abirami squealed, then wrapped his little arms around Hanniumm, resting his head against his father’s chest.
“Come, let’s go home.” said Hanniumm.
Walking hand in hand, we cherished each moment in the warm summer breeze as the sun began its descent over the horizon.
Christianity has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried. ~ G.K.C.
First, let me tell you what my goal is not right now: my goal is not to tear your work apart. There are parts that choked me up a bit, and I don’t think the ending is too sudden at all! Here is my goal: I want to explain how I feel as a reader. Please don’t be offended.
I think the thing that’s throwing me off a little is that I feel like everything is being spelled out for me because it’s being spelled out for the character. On one hand, that’s a useful thing. On the other, I think this might be a section that could be summarized:
“Is it fair to say you have done wrong of your own volition?”
“No, my lord. It was on the order of another.”
“I see.
“But I could have fought against it,” I quickly amended.
“If you had, would they have found another to take your place?”
My shoulders dropped. “Most likely.”
“Then the ones who own the guilt are the ones who ordered you. The responsibility lies with them. Now, for your own guilty consciousness, the one you desire forgiveness from is yourself.”
“My lord-”
“If you had wronged another, I would have advised you to go to that person for forgiveness, but as it is, you were merely the tool of evil men. Men who used you and took advantage of you. Am I wrong?”
My head touched the ground. “No, my lord.”
“Then let this be a mends to this,” he stated. “I offer again the position of court physician, doctor Aefflaed. Accept, and I shall take full responsibility for you. I will attest to your character and be your advocate. As my direct subordinate, I shall subsume all of your guilt until that time in which you are able to forgive yourself. Is that acceptable?”
Tears flowed down. Was he really suggesting what I thought? Was he taking responsibility for all my past ill deeds? “My lord, I can’t let you-”
“You would deign restrict me?” his voice rose in warning.
“No, my lord. It’s just-”
“This is my choice to give, dear Aefflaed,” his voice was firm and unmoving. “Your choice is not to decide for me, but for yourself. Will you accept my offered gift, or refuse? That is the choice before you. None other.”
To be under the king’s authority, as Hanniumm was… It wasn’t so much a question of whether or not I trusted the king, but more of whether I deserved such honor.
I wanted to laugh at the irony. The king had already answered that for me. His own words to Hanniumm bounded across my memory. “I shall be the judge of who is worthy of me, not you.” I was sure he would say much the same thing should I question my own worth again. So, I guessed the real question actually came down to, did I actually trust him.
Looking up into the king’s regal face, I knew my answer. “It shall be as you say, my lord. I accept.” Still, one question nagged at me. “My lord, may I ask one thing?”
“Anything, my dear.”
My guilt cascaded across my heart and reverberated through my soul, keeping me from speaking clearly as I babbled off, “How can I ever forgive myself?”
“Come here, my child.” The king motioned for me to stand next to him, but all I could do was edge forward and rest my head on his knees, grasping the robe near his feet. My tears wetting his sandaled feet.
“You see this white robe I wear?” asked the king.
I made an odd grunt of an affirmation.
“If I were to dirty my robe in my travels, would I rub it down with a dirty rag to clean it?”
“No, my lord. Of course not.”
“Of course not,” he repeated. “And even if I wiped it down with a clean rag, is that any promise that my robe would be clean?”
“No, I guess not.”
King Sharrukin shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t. It would need to be properly washed, no?
I nodded my head.
“Or replaced.”
“But sire, what does that have to do-”
“With you?” the king smiled. “You fear your past has dirtied your soul, and no amount of good deeds could wash that guilt away. Am I right?”
I was tired of crying. How did he know me so?
“But my dear, you are no longer the woman you once were.”
I gazed up into his eyes, seeking the answer to the riddle he spoke of. No longer the woman I once was?
“Once a slave, you are now free. Once lost, you have now found purpose.” He brushed his hand across my cheek. “Once forced to do evil, you desire only good for those around you, and you work tirelessly upon their behalf. You have turned from evil and desire only good. Is that not a brand new robe you wear about yourself?”
“Is that enough?” I asked, a final tear descending.
“That is a question for the Maker, my dear. But to my eyes, your heart is as pure and sincere as they come. Take solace in that.”
Part of what I question here is the reasoning that the king gives her for why she should be forgiven. In my understanding, forgiveness has nothing to do with the person who is being forgiven and everything to do with the one giving forgiveness. I don’t know that the explanation is necessary either.
I might also lean more into showing rather than telling. Flashbacks or flickers of memory might be interesting so that we feel why she feels unworthy.
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