A video about Luthiel’s Song
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry

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A Writer’s Prayer
Current mood: artistic
Category: Writing and Poetry

Dearest God
Or whatever good spirit
Of worlds and blessed nothing
Of blackness and stars
Lives yet
In this strange place

I pray for strength
To fight the demons of my thought
And to hope for a good end
To hope well enough to hear
Her voice
My muse

I pray for courage
To continue
For a scribbler's path is lonely
Through a desert place
Where food and drink are sparse
And a bard must risk livelihood
To follow his love

I pray for help
For I am poor
For I am weary
And I cannot make the journey alone

I pray for comfort
That my quest is worthwhile
That others may gain from my labor
That I will be remembered
And not go quietly into the night

I pray too for vision
That I might see the proper paths
Of tales
Of heroes
For the way is riddled with false roads
And traps for the unwary

Last of all I pray for voice
To sing well this song
To send off my love
Like a spark to the world
May it catch
May it catch fire…

Dearest God of Poets
Of muses
Of scribes
And singers too
This and more I pray
For I am only one man
And the world is a bitter thing
For a dreaming heart to bear alone.


(Copyright 2007, 2008 Robert Marston Fanney)

Currently reading : Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale By Robert Fanney Release date: 2005

7:31 PM - 54 Comments - 97 Kudos - Add Comment

War of Mists Announcement

Dear Friends,

As I've been receiving emails from you guys almost daily, I hope many of you are glad to hear that "The War of Mists," the second installment in the "Luthiel's Song" series, is now in its final round of edits and is slated for publication on June 1, 2008. It is also now officially available for preorder. If you would like to reserve a signed copy, you can find out more at

www.luthielssong.com/blog/2007/12/04/beware-the-war-of-mists-is-coming

When I finished the first book Dreams of the Ringed Vale almost three years ago, I never imagined it would become what it is today: an award-winning novel that has made its way into the hearts of nearly 10,000 readers worldwide and received widespread critical acclaim. For an independent novel to have touched so many hearts is little short of a miracle. With luck, love, and good fortune, I hope the second installment in the Luthiel's Song series will be a continuation of this remarkable pheonomena.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the story, in Dreams of the Ringed Vale, Luthiel, an orphan raised by elfish parents, received a magical gift on her 15th birthday and then some terrible news. Her foster sister, Leowin, was Chosen to be a blood tithe to terrible creatures called Vyrl -- who feed on the blood of elves. Unable to live with the thought of her sister going into danger, Luthiel decided to break the most perilous law of the Faelands, take the dangerous journey to the Vale of Mists and offer herself to the Vyrl instead. Using her wits, wisdom, and the weapons given her by her family, Luthiel managed to survive this adventure finding that of all her gifts, compassion was the most important.

Luthiel's adventures continue in The War of Mists. Finding herself in the company of monsters, Luthiel must escape from the Vale of Mists and return with an unwanted message to the land of the elves. Having learned about her imprisoned mother, her cursed and bodily broken father, and the plans of a dark but fair lord to plunge the Faelands into a terrible war, she must turn enemies into friends in a desperate race against both time and the rising brutality of a storm great enough to devour worlds.

Luthiel's journey, both in the World of Dreams, and the real world hasn't been an easy one. She has faced many challenges and despite her phenomenal striving and winning the love of many of you, her fate is still uncertain. With strong hearts and steady swords come stand by Luthiel today. Our adventure has only begun.

For so many of you who have waited patiently for months and years, I would like to send you each my heartfelt gratitude. You have each made Luthiel's continued journey possible. I hope that the bond she made with you will see us all to a happy end.

Your devoted scribbler

Rob

P.S. If you have noticed my conspicuous absence, please accept my apologies. Writing,
promoting, producing, and publishing a novel is at least the work of ten people. My staff includes myself, a good friend who helps out when he can, and three very difficult to manage cats. The fact that we have managed to survive so far and not be left with only cat food is saying something. So again, please forgive my absence. Hopefully, now that most of the final work is done on book two and I have only the spring tour to deal with, I should be more accessible to you guys. You deserve it!

Currently reading : Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale By Robert Fanney Release date: 2005

7:10 PM - 19 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

Why a female hero?
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Writing and Poetry

I've always had a deep love for strong female characters. When I was young, I fell in love with Snow White. I know it sounds silly but I did. Later, my respect shifted from Anderson's "Little Mermaid" to many of the female heroes in anime.

I think it has something to do with my mother. She was born, in 1947, with a condition called spina bifada. It's a genetic defect where the baby has a gap in their spinal column. What usually happens is the spinal fluid invades the surrounding tissue, becomes infected and causes severe spinal and brain injury leading to death.

My mother's parents did not take the doctor's diagnosis that my mother would only live a few years as the final word. They searched and searched. Finally, they found a doctor who could help my mother. He performed a revolutionary surgery that rerouted the spinal fluid and saved my mother from the devastating infection. In 1947, this sort of thing was practically unheard of. Most spina bifida babies were left alone to die.

My mother has since been through a lot of hardship. But she faces it with amazing character and grace. The strain on her body has resulted in two early hip replacements. Otherwise, she has lived an astonishing life. She graduated from the very competitive William and Mary in only 3 years so she could marry my father. Now she provides crisis intervention counseling for teens. It's really an amazing life. One day, I may write a story about it that's more direct. For now, the mirror of dreams works nicely.

For my part, I've done my best to write about a female hero who shares her disposition if only to inform others through story that such a thing exists. It is also why I am so driven. There's something about it that's more than just me.

4:13 PM - 39 Comments - 63 Kudos - Add Comment

Ride of the Vyrl
Category: Writing and Poetry

From out of the fortress came three riders. They were tall, taller than any elf, and the horses that bore them were eyeless giants. Their hooves were cleft -- the tips shining like knives. One was red with black flecks, the second was paler than bone and the third was as the color of smoke. Seeing them, Luthiel was reminded of blood, death and burning.

The riders were cloaked in black, but the hoods were thrown back revealing faces both beautiful and terrible. Hair the color of blood spilled over ageless skin, gushing down toward eyes blacker than the sea at night. Within them were dim white lights like stars that seemed to drift and swirl. To Luthiel, those eyes were hungry, seeming to suck the daylight.

The terrible eyes held her and she couldn't look away. Her terror grew until she felt like crying out. As she watched, one of the motes drifting in the Vyrl's eye winked out. It was as if some hungry shadow dwelling in the Vyrl's eyes had devoured it. She had to remind herself over and over that Valkire took away the Vyrl's ability to eat dreams.

Excerpted from Luthiel's Song, copyright 2005-2007 Robert Marston Fanney

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Luthiel's Song -- the first 8 pages
Category: Writing and Poetry

Luthiel


To be me is to be different, she thought as she watched them, from her place apart from them, upon the hillside.

And there was much to watch. For everywhere across the Minonowe, and where she lived in Flir Light Hollow, elves were preparing for celebration.

They were festooning trees with glowing flir bug bulbs, baking delicious almorah cakes, and rolling out giant gourds filled with the best summers wine. Master Alderdalf's pixies were hard at work under the woven canopy of his voluminous fae holme turning out specially prepared fireworks. Loud popping tindersnaps, eek-eeking neekerbeeks, bright flaring fizzleflashes, and the scaly Romas Dragons lay in red, green, orange and silver stacks outside. Lady Lutendrah was busy tying ribbons to her famous pandurs boxes (you never knew what would pop out). Even the otherwise grim-faced elves of the Dark Forest seemed to brighten as they drank toasts to the day--First Summer's Eve.

As she watched them, a lively wind rose up, dancing through the trees, swatting gold and silver ripples across the lake shore, before riding up the hill on which she stood. The breeze played in the branches about her, but the swaying of her arms and the gentle curves of her neck were just as graceful. From her head flowed hair the color of moonlight. It spilled over leaf-shaped ears before falling down shoulders so supple they belied the gentle strength that lay beneath. Clothes of forest green embroidered with silver lay across skin as fair as a cloud. Eyes, which shone like green-blue stars, rested beneath softly sloping brows.

Even elves thought of her as beautiful -- if a little strange. And sometimes she would hear them teasing that she'd arisen from the wyrd of sea foam or was born to earth in the cradle of a crescent moon floating down upon the gloaming. For she was an orphan and no one knew her parents.

Though the elves welcomed her, accepting her as one of their own, she could always sense that they held her apart. She bore it with a kind of sad resignation. But she always wondered:

Why do they treat me this way?

Am I not an elf like them? she would think. Why can't they see me as Leowin does?

For her foster sister Leowin was the only one who treated her as though she were no different.

Luthiel smiled at the thought and sniffed the air. She sighed and let all the happy sounds, all the various smells, wash over her. It was going to be quite a party. Fitting, because this was the day she turned fifteen, or near enough as her foster parents Glendoras and Winowe could reckon. Some asked her if she cared that her birthday also fell on the night of First Summers Eve. But she only laughed.

"Can you think of a better day?" she would ask them in return. And what better day to be born than on the day that the world shook off the darkness? What happier time to celebrate than when everyone else was celebrating?

She secretly fantasized that the reason for all the hubbub, the cause for all this happy commotion, was her birthday. And she smiled to herself when the first thing they said to her was--"Happy Birthday, Luthiel!" followed by "Happy First Summers Eve!"



Leowin


Luthiel felt a hand tap her shoulder and turned around just in time to glimpse Leowin's ruddy face before she sprang up into the leafy canopy.

"You're tapped!" she could hear her cry from her hiding place among the leaves. A shower of laughter soon followed.

Her sister, though a year older than Luthiel, was three inches shorter. Wild strands of gold spilled down to her shoulder blades and light blue eyes shone at her from the shadows. Leowin wore colors that made it easier for her to hide--green and brown--and her sure footed, supple frame was well practiced in the arts of jumping, climbing and hanging.

"Leowin you flutterfler!" Luthiel cried and bounded up after her.

Leaves smacked her face as she sprang, faster than a tree frog, from branch to branch. Some of the branches were more than ten feet apart. Luthiel's springs were long and her balance sure. Her tiptoes found purchase on each branch for only an instant before she was flying off through the air again leaping as surely and gracefully as a bird on a rope.

When it became plain to Leowin that Luthiel had found her, she shot up from her hiding place like a thrush flushed from the bushes with a happy cry bounding from limb to limb as if they were stairs.

"Can't catch me!" Leowin taunted.

"You're not getting away!" Luthiel cried back, then leapt gracefully through the air skipping two of the branches Leowin had just used and landing on a third. Luthiel was catching up to her fast. Soon now, she'd tap Leowin and then it would be her turn to run.

Leowin loved to play tap-and-turn and shed found a hundred little tree hollows and crevices to hide in. Luthiel was often surprised by Leowin's cunning; by the sly tricks shed play and by a hundred planned escapes. But Luthiel was faster. So each played to their advantage. Luthiel was almost within reach of Leowin. She stretched her hand before her--mere inches away from Leowins back.

"No you don't!" Leowin gasped.

Sudden as raindrops, Leowin leapt off the branch she was standing on and into mid-air.



The Wyrd Stone


Luthiel felt her heart rise into her throat. She watched helplessly as Leowins body rushed toward the ground, more than fifty feet below.

She lunged, stretching out a hand to grasp her, but the plummeting Leowin was already out of reach. Before she hit ground, Leowin lifted her arms above her head and pointed her toes. Her face, staring up at Luthiel, bore a wide grin.

What was she doing?

Suddenly, Luthiels eyes refocused and she saw the lily pads beneath Leowin part as her toes touched them, revealing a sparkling pool of water.

Splash! Leowin disappeared beneath the surface and didnt come up. Luthiel sighed.

"That puk," she said.

Luthiel didn't give up easily, though, so she ran along, hopping from tree-limb to tree-limb, tracing the lily pads that were disturbed as Leowin swam beneath the water. Luthiel hid herself in a thick patch of leaves, watching from the shadows as Leowin pulled herself from the water, made her way through a moss patch, then turned toward East Wind Road.

Luthiel was quiet--silent as any ghost fly--but Leowin was quieter.

Luthiel dropped from branch to branch like a shadow. Staying within sight of Leowin was the real trick. She dared not to even blink lest she lose the sneaker. Little by little, she closed the distance between them. Within a hundred heartbeats, she was a mere ten feet behind and above Leowin, gathering her legs beneath her for a pounce.

She shot through the air, spreading her arms wide like wings. An instant later, her arms encircled Leowin and they tumbled through the underbrush.

Aaaaeeeeeaaaaaaa! Leowin yelled in surprise and fought to escape. Luthiel struggled to grasp the flailing Leowin. Head over heels they tumbled, rolling back and forth, this way and that, until; at last, they somersaulted onto the speckled cobbles of East Wind Road. Luthiel ended up on top. She grabbed Leowins shoulders and pinned her against the stones.

"Caught you!" Luthiel cried.

With those words, Leowin stopped wriggling and looked up at Luthiel with a big grin on her face. With her free hand, she started digging at her belt.

"Not even Lorethain can catch me," she said. She seemed to have found what she was looking for and balled her hand around it so Luthiel couldn't see.

Leowins face, though still happy, suddenly became more somber. She placed a hand on Luthiels chest and gently pushed her away as she stood. She took a moment to brush herself off with her free hand.

"You sure made a mess of me," Leowin said.

"I can only take half the blame," Luthiel replied. "You're the one who jumped into that muddy pond."

"That I did," Leowin said with a grin.

Then, she stepped forward and embraced Luthiel.

"Happy birthday Luthiel," she breathed into her ear, pressing something round and cool into her hand.

Luthiel laughed. "So I had to catch you before youd give me a birthday present?"

Leowins eyes twinkled with mischief as she nodded her head. "I wanted to make you earn it."

Luthiel shook her head and laughed. "Well, it certainly is an odd way to get a present."

"Odd? Its a surprise," Leowin said and then motioned at Luthiels hand. "Aren't you going to take a look at your present?" she asked.

Luthiels eyes dropped and she opened her hand. In it she held a perfectly round crystal. The Stone was clear as glass but the light that fell through it somehow came out brighter, more like silver. It was as if it washed the light. Luthiel's mouth fell open in wonder.

"Leowin, it's beautiful," she said, her voice touched with awe. "I've never seen a thing do that to light. What is it?"

Leowin smiled at her mysteriously.

"I'm glad you like it. Here, lets get off the path a bit," she said, grabbing her wrist and walking her over to the side of the road.

Luthiel nodded, still staring at the treasure she held in her hands.

Far in the distance Luthiel could hear the shriek of a Romas candle. Soelee had started to set. The festivities would begin soon. For the moment, though, she didn't care. She was captivated and surprised by Leowin's gift.

Leowin guided Luthiel away from the road, finally sitting her down on the wide roots of an oak.

"Just sit here and watch the Stone," Leowin said.

Luthiel couldn't have done otherwise; it was as if some spell had captured her eyes.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Leowin began to sing. The words of the song were simple; the tune, one shed never heard before.

More graceful than willows, more lithe than the birds
Softer than Silva, shes the kindest of words
For shes wise as the ocean, a great mystery
And her love is as endless, with depths I cant see
Luthiel! Luthiel!
Her name is for water both gentle and strong
Like the waves on a seashore she sings her own song
No mountains may bar her she carves her own path
And her timeless will no thing can outlast
Luthiel! Luthiel!
No truer one Ive known!
Luthiel! Luthiel!
The water through stone.

The song lulled through the forest and surrounded Luthiel like a pair of loving arms. She felt her cheeks become hot as her sister sang and in her heart she felt a deep, aching warmth. Then, as Leowin stopped singing, the Stone trembled in her hand. A note, so pure and forlorn that it drew a tear from her eye, rose up from the Stone. The sound seemed both loving and full of sorrow. The note became louder and the aching in her chest grew until it seemed unbearable. She couldn't restrain it any longer. Before she knew what she was doing, she opened her mouth.

The sound that came out was both loud and pure. It blended with the music of the Stone, coming into harmony with it. The song continued, drawing all the air from her. When she could sing no more, the Stone's music abruptly stopped.

Luthiel gasped for breath, but she still couldnt take her eyes away from the Stone.

Then, a brilliant light bloomed from its depths, bathing the forest in a silvery-white glow, making the trees cast long shadows in a ring around them. As Luthiel watched, breathless, the light shone on for about three heartbeats and then slowly dimmed until all that remained was a small silver glimmer in the center of the Stone.

Finally, she was able to tear her eyes away.

She felt different--as if something had changed her.

Luthiel didn't know what to say.

"What is it? What's it done to me?"

Leowin, who'd been watching Luthiel with a fascinated gleam in her eye, grabbed her hand.

"Luthiel, it's all right, don't be afraid. What just happened is wonderful," she whispered in excitement.

Luthiel could only stare back at her.

The Stone rested in her trembling palm. But she kept her eyes from it. She felt an urge to let it roll over her fingertips and off her hand. But she didn't. Instead, she blinked her eyes and licked the beads of sweat off her lip.

What has Leowin done? she thought.


(copyright 2005, 2006 by Robert Marston Fanney -- all rights reserved)


********

Interested in reading more about Luthiel? Click here

.

10:33 AM - 91 Comments - 173 Kudos - Add Comment

Quote from book 2 (can you guess who?)
Category: Writing and Poetry

"What good is life if it has ended? There's no opportunity for joy in death. The day is coming, Mithorden, when survival will be the only concern and joy only a half remembered fancy."

(copyright 2006, Robert Marston Fanney)

Can you guess who said it?

10:05 AM - 41 Comments - 43 Kudos - Add Comment

Beware the Blood Witch
Current mood: working
Category: Writing and Poetry

Beware the Blood Witch


When glimflirs golden lift and fly
Like rivers run against the sky
Upon the howl of rising air
The Blood Witch comes--
Beware, beware

On quiet feet she creeps in dreams
Of summer spun the wild wyrd moons
Kissed by Merrin's cobalt beams
To Vyrl she's a bloody boon

Enchantress soft and seeming fair
A singer pure of eldritch spell
Beware! Beware! her soft spun snare
Pretender's tale is her's to tell

Beware the Blood Witch
That comes with summer
To unleash the wargs
Chained in the sky
Gorthaur's pack
The black moon's get
Will eat the light
'Till all things die

Spiders black of Drakken Spur
Come with promise of a feast
On elfin flesh the hosts of war
That rose to punish Vale's worst beasts

Her mount a werewolf old and drear
Her allies are the ancient terror
For her sword a shattered Shear
Stolen from an honored barrow

Beware the Blood Witch
That keeps the council
Of the serpant
Great beguiler
She'll take the life fruit
Grant great knowledge
A hollow knowing
That calls the fire
So listen well unto her singing
If you wish all good to end
She'll tempt with freedom -- a choice death bringing
As her form is sight of sin

As was once and now it shall be
Woman takes and woman mars
The weaker sex in strength corrupted
Will draw on us the wrath of stars

Beware the Blood Witch
Werewolf rider
Who'll open wide
The gates of dread
So death may come
To reign o'er Oesha
When horns grow from
The eighth moon's head


(copyright 2006 Robert Marston Fanney)

9:00 AM - 56 Comments - 101 Kudos - Add Comment

To Adversity
Category: Writing and Poetry

You the fire,
I the ore,
Heating me,
I transform...

You the hammer,
I the rod,
Beating me,
I strengthen...

You the chill water,
I the blade,
Freezing me,
I resolve...

You the stone,
I the sword,
Grinding me down,
I sharpen...

Copyright 2006 Robert Marston Fanney
Inspired by the process of creating Luthiel's Song

11:04 AM - 78 Comments - 121 Kudos - Add Comment

A fair dream -- writing
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry

A fair dream -- writing

She's a fair dream -- writing,
When the muse sings clear,
As larks at dawn,
She's fair as sunlight on seafoam.

She's like the ocean,
A slate when still,
Cold as knives in her dead season,
Riled with passion when spirits gust over her.

Many seek her,
But are unready for the hard work of water,
Questing for the great ocean,
They see instead her vastness,
But fail to know the long ages it took to make her.

Many more seek to rule her,
Some by taming the rivers that feed,
Others by claiming the sea for their own,
But all boundaries crumble to her gentle touch,
And she knows no master.

It is wisdom instead to dance with her,
and to laugh,
For we become her,
Or make for her but one season,
As she will ever endure.

A fair dream writing,
To grin at all the would-be poets,
And laugh at all profiteers,
Who only dream of dreaming,
And never touch the sea.

Copyright, 2005, Robert Marston Fanney

5:09 PM - 58 Comments - 98 Kudos - Add Comment