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| Tin Karešin (1.5) |
There once was an adventurer called Branimir, who
roamed the lands in search of grand
adventures. He would go from village to village, from cities to
mountains, from forests to green meadows and vast seas with no end. He was
twenty-five years old, quite handsome and had a stunning face which would make
any maiden in the land fall for him, were it not for the big scar across it. He
wore a brown shirt, a green cloak and a dark green feathered hat. One day, he
found himself in the village of Treetop. It was named so because in the middle
of the village there was a large oak tree, whose canopy was so big it would
throw shade over the entire village, so the villagers had their lanterns lit
even during the day. Branimir rode into the village on his noble steed and
looked around at the villagers. Treetop was a small village, not the most
organised and lawful, but the villagers were innocent and kind-hearted. What
appealed to Branimir about Treetop was that although the village wasn't the
most advanced, meaning that they didn't have the best healthcare or very
accessible clean water, the villagers were remarkably kind, welcoming, helpful
and overall charitable to visitors. Branimir approached the village tavern and
dismounted his horse. He tied his horse to a nearby fence and entered the
tavern. He then searched for the innkeeper. While looking for the innkeeper, he
ran into a fair maiden in a pretty white dress. She couldn’t be much older than
twenty, Branimir thought. She had long light brown hair and blue eyes like the
great rivers of the west. Among all the poor country farmers and smiths in the
tavern, she looked like an angel. Branimir asked her for her name, to which she
giggled.
“And what would you do with my name, noble traveller?”
she asked him. Branimir was surprised.
“Well, I would remember it as the name of the most
beautiful woman I saw in all my travels.” Said Branimir and smiled to the lady.
She laughed. Her laugh sounded like the laugh of joyous little children,
playing in nature on a beautiful summer’s day.
“And is it only my beauty that interests you? Or is it
something else?” she asked and giggled.
“Well, it is your beauty that attracted my eyes and your heavenly laugh that attracted my ears, but it is you that has my interest, not your body.” Branimir said. The girl laughed and once again could Branimir’s ears hear the majestic symphony of her voice. He could only imagine what her singing sounds like.
“Well if it is my name you are looking for, you may
have it. My name is Ophelia.” She said and smiled. Her white teeth glimmered in
the soft light of the tavern’s chandelier.
“Ophelia. Sounds like the name of an angel. Well then,
Ophelia, would you like to walk with me later?” Branimir asked. Ophelia giggled
again.
“I would love to, but, you see, you are a traveller.
What future could we have? I’ve lived in
this small village all my life and you travel around from place to
place. How could we maintain a connection if you travel away? I couldn’t force
you to settle down, your life belongs to you alone.” Ophelia said.
“What does that matter? I am not asking you to marry
me, I’m asking you to walk with me later
this afternoon. And if we like each other’s company, why keep ourselves apart?
Even if there is no future for us,
should we not then enjoy every moment together we do have? We are mortals in a
mortal plain with a mortal lifespan, and not a long one at that. We could die
at any given moment, so should we not use every moment we have to enjoy
ourselves? Do the wise not tell us to live every day as if it were our last?”
Branimir said. Ophelia’s smile went away.
“You speak the truth, but I fear that if we do like
each other, or even love, then it will be all the more heart-breaking when you
finally do leave.” Said Ophelia. Branimir thought.
“Many a maiden has refused my love because of my
face.” Said Branimir.
“I would not judge you for your scar. It is like a
mark, so that your loved one can always tell you apart in a crowded place.”
Said Ophelia. Branimir smiled.
“Walk with me tonight. We shall see how we like each
other and not worry about the future, for it is so unpredictable that not even
the gods know it.” Branimir said. Ophelia smiled.
“Okay, but I can’t tonight, I have to help my father
around the tavern.” She said.
“You’re the innkeeper’s daughter?” Branimir asked. Ophelia nodded. “Well, I was going to take a room here anyway, and I don’t really have a better place to go for dinner. Perhaps you could join me for a meal tonight?” Branimir said.
Ophelia laughed again.
“Oh, how you persist. Very well, you shall have my
company tonight at dinner. I shall fetch my
father and tell him you want a room.” She said.
“Tell him I need shelter for my horse too.” Branimir
said and Ophelia walked away.
Branimir exited the tavern and went on through the
village. He reached the great tree in the centre. It was as tall as the towers
on the colossal castles of the north and the canopy stretched across the sky,
blocking the sun almost completely. Branimir had heard a legend that the canopy
of this great tree was secretly a map of the stars that the gods made for the
mortals. As he looked upon that mighty treetop, he could see that the legends
were not untrue, for the canopy looked like a map of the heavens and the tiny
holes where the sun peaked through looked like stars. It was one of the most
beautiful sights Branimir saw in all his travels. Branimir was coming back to
the tavern as evening fell. A slight wind swept through the village, howling
through the tiny streets of Treetop. As Branimir hopped cheerfully back to the
tavern, he heard a scream coming from the inn. Scared for Ophelia, he ran to
the tavern and busted in quickly. There were five men with weapons, robbing the
inn. Branimir without hesitation reached for his hip and pulled out a shining
thin bastard sword. Grabbing it with one hand, he swung his blade at one of the
robbers. The robber blocked the hit with his dagger and pulled out a rapier.
Branimir pulled back his sword to block the rapier and then stepped back. The
robber swung slightly towards Branimir’s face. Branimir blocked the hit,
grabbed his blade, pulled him forward and threw him over his shoulder onto his
back and took his sword. Once on his back, the robber cut Branimir’s leg. Branimir
kicked the robber’s dagger out of his hand and stepped on the side of his neck,
knocking him out. He then blocked an incoming strike from another robber with
an arming sword, reached his hand around his head and cut the robber’s
shoulder. The robber screamed and Branimir cut his right hand. The robbed
dropped his sword on Branimir’s foot and Branimir flung it in the air, caught
it and used the pommel to knock the robber out. While he defeated those two,
the other three had escaped with most of the innkeeper’s money.
“Is everyone okay?” Branimir asked.
“Yes, yes, and we have you to thank for that. Those
thieves may have taken my money, but we still have our lives.” Said the
innkeeper. Branimir looked around. He found Ophelia hidden in the corner. She
came out of her hiding spot and got close to him.
“You saved us.” She said.
“Not yet completely, those fools still have your
money.” Said Branimir.
“Never mind that, you saved our lives. You saved my
life.” She said.
“Well I couldn’t let you die just yet, you still
haven’t walked with me.” Said Branimir sarcastically. Ophelia smiled, put his
arms around his neck, jumped into his arms and kissed him. Her lips tasted of
cherry. Their lips parted and their eyes met. He set her down and they let go
of each other.
“So, will I finally see you tonight?” Branimir asked.
“I would really love to, but those thugs stole all of
our money, so I have to help my father
work.” Said Ophelia. Branimir thought for a moment.
“Okay. You go help your father, I’ll go after those
thieves and get your money back.” Said Branimir.
And do, Branimir was off. He spent the night in the
inn and in the morning, he rode out after the bandits. He rode for two days and
two nights. On the third morning, he reached the bandit’s camp. There were the
three bandits from before and one more. He of them was screaming at the others
for leaving behind the two Branimir defeated. Branimir concluded that he was
the leader. It seemed to Branimir that the leader was quite commanding but
personally hesitant, so he decided on the direct approach. He walked up to the
bandits and they all looked at him.
“Hello there! My name is Branimir, and I am here to
collect the innkeeper’s money which you stole three days ago.” He said.
“That’s him boss. That’s the guy who defeated Marlon
and Bradley!” said one of the thugs and pointed at Branimir.
“Oh, is he? Then go deal with him!” Shouted the
leader. The bandit picked up a gladius and a scutum shield. Judging by his
weapon choice and armor, he was obviously a former Lascairnian legionnaire.
Branimir took his sword out and gripped it with one hand. The thief swung his
gladius at Branimir’s neck. Branimir blocked it and kicked his shield, pushing
him back. Branimir then used his pommel to hook the thug’s shield while
simultaneously kicking the bottom right corner of it with his foot and disarmed
the thug of his shield. The thief swung again at Branimir, but he parried the
hit and punched him in the face with the sword in hand, knocking him out.
“You two! Take him out!” The leader shouted.
The other two jumped up, took their weapons out and attacked. One of them had a longsword, the other a kriegsmesser. Branimir grabbed his sword with two hands. The bandit with the kriegsmesser swung his sword at Branimir from high left. Branimir blocked it and kinked him in the stomach. He then swung his sword at the one with the longsword from the left. The thug blocked it and tried to stab Branimir in the head. Branimir bent under his sword and spun into the bandit, kicking him into the dirt nearby. Now only the leader remained. The leader picked up a greatsword and charged at Branimir. Branimir quickly got out of the way and barely dodged it. It was clear that the leader didn’t have much skill as a swordsman, but relied on brute strength and his big sword, so, as long as Branimir could avoid his attacks, he could just tire him out and wait for an opening. He swung at Branimir a few more times and Branimir dodged or parried every strike. Eventually, the leader was tired. He raised his greatsword high and performed one final strike at Branimir, but he put too much energy into it and got pulled forward by the sword. Branimir dodged him and hit him on the back of the head with his pommel, knocking him out. Branimir then found the money they stole from the innkeeper and took it back. The village celebrated him as a hero and he married Ophelia and they travelled the world together for the rest of the rest of their lives. THE END
Tin Karešin (1.5)
Tin Karešin (author)
My name is Tin Karešin. Currently, while writing this,
I find myself being fifteen years old. To an average reader like myself and, I
assume, you, that may not mean much. Some say it is astonishing I write so well
so young, but they're mostly my family members so it's as likely to be words of
comfort or praise as it is for it to be truth. But nevertheless, my professors
published a story of mine and it falls upon me to write a bit about myself and
my work, for it is what my professor asks. Well, then, I already told you my
name and my age. My location is not important, but if that will indulge you,
then so be it, I am form Rijeka, Croatia. Well, that’s where I’m writing from
anyway, but both my place of birth and that of my childhood are not two hours
of driving away. My family roots tie to some important people, providing you’re
interested in them and find them important, but otherwise not. To cut a long
story short, I come from no one and nowhere interesting or important. However,
you might find my story interesting.
I was born in the city of Zagreb in Croatia, where I
lived happily with my caring parents for two years. All I remember from then
are my parents lying on the sofa watching the TV and eating spaghetti and me
leaning out the window and dropping my favourite pacifier down into the street
(we lived in a tall building). Then, we moved to the beautiful town of Rovinj
in the astonishing land of Istria where I grew up for the next thirteen years.
If you did the math, you sould have done the complicated calculations and found
out that that makes me fifteen years old just as I am now. So, that’s it. The
end!
Just kidding! I still have more to tell, so you’re
trapped with me until I finish! Unless, of course, you choose to read no
further, in which case I cannot stop you. But anyway, with five years I became
tantalized by tales of knights, kings and general medieval adventures. One of
them stood out to me above others. The tale of king Arthur, the young boy who
pulled a magic sword from a magic stone and proved he was worthy of being the
king of England. This, of course, is extremely incorrect, however with five
years I did not know any different. At that same age, my mother introduced me
to the wonderful world of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, which (like many legends
before) entwined the medieval world I loved so much with magic and fantasy like
no other, and I fell in love with it instantly. Ironically, once again at the
same age (probably earlier, in fact, but I’m too lazy to remember) I first
picked up a sword. Don’t worry, it was only a wooden short sword my parents
bought me at a medieval faire, but to a five-year-old child like me, in love
with knights and sword fighting, that meant more than you could ever imagine.
Ever since then, I spent a lot of time going through stories of medieval
fantasy and sword fighting with my friends (some had wooden swords too, for
others we collected sticks from the woods). Ever since I was a little child I
came up with stories of increasing quality, and when I came to the age of ten,
my parents encouraged me to write them down so they aren’t lost to the wind
like most until then. I promised to do so if they provided me with a
typewriter, which they did. Still, it helped little. Instead of being able to
write down books and stories I only kept coming up with new ones, never
finishing what I’ve started and barely ever getting past the first page.
However, when I reached the age of eleven, I started writing my first book on a
laptop. It remains still my largest and favourite project, spawning a whole
world and subset of adventures, including the story I wrote this for. It, of
course, is a story of medieval fantasy as are, I admit, most if not all of my
stories. But I am not ashamed of it, for I think that even if I have one genre
I do it amazingly, with tales of twists, love, adventures, honor, mind-blowing
bravery, incredibly developed magic and fight scenes like Jackie Chan movies.
Today I have a few short stories, ideas for longer future novels and the main
novel I’m writing which I mentioned before. I find it amazing how, even though
it is a shadow of its former self and is today a hundred times better than it
would have been then, the story remains quite similar.
There, that is all I can think of writing about myself
and my work, hope it satisfies your desire. Bye!