*cracks knuckles*

Welcome back, ladies and gents. After today's three and a half year intermission... it's showtime.

As we were:

Fred has thumbed his nose at the glorious responsibility-free prospects of Egbert's Home for Children, obtained a sack of money from the weird doctor, and JUST found out *le gasp* that his older brother, missing for the last fourteen years, happens to be in town.

***

Fred stared blankly at the doctor, in utter incredulity, while the seconds of silence lengthened to minutes. His mouth opened and shut several times. At last he gasped, "Lancelot – Thorn."

It came out in a sort of croak.

The expression on the doctor's face underwent a rapid change. "Wait – wait... your last name is Thorn, isn't it?"

Fred nodded dumbly.

"Thorn without an e?"

Sorry, I have to take a minute and talk about Doctor's judgmental "THORNE WITHOUT AN E!?!/1!" because it might not come across as judgmental but it 100% was

Like we're having a conniption about this because why? Because Thorne with an e is the only Respectable Name in these solid Bri'ish peerage parts? I guess?

This is fantasy pioneer America with ghost towns tell me what's so weird about Thorn with no e.

He nodded again, weakly.

"And so this – this Lancelot..."

Fred found his voice. "I had – an older brother – named Lancelot."

Keep those dashes coming bro. Lay on the punctuation thick

The doctor whistled, long and slow. "Whew... Well, I can't say I envy you your brother."

Fred could hardly disagree with him.

*wince*

let's review some key interactions, shaaaaallllll weeeeeeeeeee

---

Chapter 5: clip 1.1 Fred is in town at the checkout counter with his "packs" and "supplies"

clip 1.2 Fred is heading out the door and bumps into someone

clip 1.3 Fred says "excuse me" because he's such a paragon of virtue (behold the posturing)

clip 1.4 the person does not respond

clip 1.5 Fred repeats "excuse me" while fighting off righteous (?) anger (?!!)

clip 1.6 the person again does not respond

clip 1.7 Fred stomps off in a sulk, having objectively labeled this person a Bad Person

Fast forward three hours and he finds out this silent dude was actually his brother.

---

Does this cause him to pause? Get excited? perhaps revisit his earlier premature judgment? My word he doesn't even blink. "ya he's horrible I agree doc what an awful person too bad he's my brother :'[[["

Dude ALL HE DID WAS NOT TALK TO YOU

YOU'VE LITERALLY JUST REDISCOVERED A SEPARATED FAMILY MEMBER AND ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW HE HURT YOUR FEEWINGS

also i said it in the other chapter but maybe he was deaf u don't know what ppl are going through shut up and take a chill pill

There was another silence. Then the doctor spoke again. "I guess this won't really change anything for you..."

The doctor was right, of course. (???) Fred had day-dreamed at times of reunions with various selective siblings who had run away; delighted recognition, joyful embraces – there could be none of that. The sudden vision of Lancelot putting his arms around Sandy was almost funny. "Yes – you're right," he said aloud. "It doesn't really change anything. We'll leave tomorrow."

"It doesn't change anything because I don't want it to change anything."

the only reason you're not looking this man's hotel room up is because 1) you had a single questionably bad interaction with him and 2) the pseudo-doctor validates your angry feelings about it

Someone tell him to give his poor brother a freaking second chance

~

It was drizzling faintly – a thin, clammy mist – when they departed the next morning. Fred was eager and excited; Marjorie was calm and composed. Sandy was whistling.

an actually nice paragraph. note parallels to below

Fred walked quickly, despite a brief protest from Marjorie. He felt as though they would not be truly started until they were walking on completely unfamiliar ground. (okay mood though) So their pace was hurried until the dark shapes of the village's buildings materialized out of the thin fog.

Then, when they had put the town behind them, Fred drew in a great shuddering breath and gazed with a panting anticipation in front of him, seeing not the swirling mist but mountain ranges and a high gate and beyond them a future. A future... which he would have to take the charge of. He had realized that, last night. He had always had an assurance deep inside himself, a comforting certitude that his leadership was only temporary, that there would soon be someone else to shoulder his burden. But now he knew that there was no someone else. There never really would be. There was no great-aunt; no father; no Egbert Smith (only because you basically spat on his generosity for unclear reasons); no Lancelot. There was only him.

And he would have to do.

He shook himself. – He was rather like a dog, he thought disgustedly, always wriggling and shaking and shivering – And he took an insignificant, boring, muffled step forward.

Their journey had begun. No fanfares, no trumpets.

We pause to note Fred's disgust with himself: the first step in a long slippery slope. 14-year-old Verity's initial spark of annoyance at her character's repetitive, melancholic habits has manifested as Fred's equally annoying self-awareness, and will continue to do so in times ahead. Prepare thyself.

They did not go far that day. Fred, though he might have liked to protest, knew very well that he had not recovered his full strength and could not bring himself to move another step by midafternoon.

Did you even think of taking a few breaks lol

He pushed himself the second day, and they covered perhaps twelve miles before dark. The mountains were looming up on their left now, though Fred knew they were much farther away than they looked. It would not be necessary to cross the mountains, and of this he was glad. He doubted Marjorie could have stood the trip.

Waow great faith in sister I am in much awe

He lay in the dark, his thoughts wandering. Lancelot... his father... Great-aunt Bridget... but her he quickly shut out of his mind. The memory was still to near, too frightening – and, though he had never thought he cared for her, too painful. So he forced his mind elsewhere.

His other siblings... but that was a disturbing thought after his encounter with Lancelot...

Slowly Fred fell into a restless sleep.

Why exactly did we have this internal ellipsis-heavy ramble?

He awoke well before dawn, and roused the others early – earlier than Sandy would have liked. Marjorie did not complain; but she had not at all for some time now, he realized. Like Sandy, she had been maturing. Where did Sandy mature I am confusion :| is this just because she doesn't have any available barbed wire fences to dance on? Not very noticeably... but it was there: in her air of quiet dignity and assurance, in the gentle strength which lay behind her long-lashed, dark brown eyes. No longer was she the fussing, fretting girl who wept because her clothes were not frilled and laced. She was a woman; a proper, decorous, thoughtful young woman; and Fred suddenly felt that he was proud to be the brother of such a woman.

but she still can't stand a trip over the mountains oh no she's too decorous for that

As for Powhatan's sentiments at being roused early, in truth he seemed rather pleased over the whole affair. Fred was not at all certain why Powhatan had not left by now. He could hardly like their method of travelling.

the older I get the more inexpressibly grateful I am that i chose to cut Powhatan Hazard Thorne from TJ when I did

~

Their pace was good that day, and they arrived at something which kind Fred had forgotten about for a long time, it seemed – a town. Sandy was still teasing him about it as they walked through the streets.

"The look on your face when we saw the buildings! My land, one would think you'd never seen houses before!"

"All right, Sandy. Enough, Sandy. You don't have to advertise my amnesia to the general public."

"And you can't stand a little ribbing. I declare your skin's as thin as parchment paper."

Fred bit his tongue, and rejoined calmly, "With what little schooling you ever had, I wonder at all the words that come spouting out of your mouth."

oh veryyyyy very nice, Verity, lampshading at its finest

"Like what?" Sandy was unable to help looking gratified and flattered.

"Oh – ribbing... prissy... hysterics... You just seem to have a gift for the right words in the right places.

"That's literarily speaking," he hastened to add. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that you're particularly tactful."

Sandy still was pleased. He doubted in any case that she wanted to be tactful.

Our Sandy queen wouldn't know tactful if it slapped her in the face and she don't need it either😤

"Are you tired?" he asked her.

Sandy shrugged. "Are you?"

"Not very. But I wondered if we should stop here for the night. It's already midafternoon, and we could also do with stocking up on supplies. There's no way of knowing when we'll see a town again."

"All right then, boss, I'm not arguing. You're the one in the driver's seat."

Fred reflected as he turned towards a dirty, swinging sign labeled creatively The Boar, that Sandy really did have a way with words.

Such intelligent, very amaze.

This last remark of hers really proved nothing except that she's picked up contemporary idioms from her questionable back-alley friends.

The door was ancient and smelled of mildew, and looked like it had been needing to see a carpenter for a long time. He found as he tried to open it that it was also rusty – very rusty. It creaked, groaned, shuddered, and made every protesting noise known to doors as it scraped open. He had, of course, to think then that it was as if the door did not want him to know what was inside. Why, why, why was it he who always had to think stupid, frightening thoughts?

There are ways you could have written this that would have conveyed the door's personification WITHOUT going ham-handed on the broody, self-flagellatory POV narration that annoys you so much. - '22 Ver to '14 Ver

Also Fred is assuming that nobody except him has these stupid frightening thoughts which is forgivable in itself but a little shortsighted.

Maybe the door was right. From the condition it was in, he wasn't sure he did want to know what was inside.

okay. i think we have reached today's italics quota. you can feel free to tone them down now.

What he first saw was an impression: a chaotic impression of color, people, weapons, tables, wine, food, mess... and noise. Lots of noise.

*scratches head* yeah it's going to bug me until I get this articulated, so imma articulate it. The amateur writing is showing through. I had come to a stage where I wanted to achieve certain effects, but I didn't have the knowhow to actually achieve them. I was tuning in to a lot of the subtleties of literature, but my ability to replicate those subtleties was limited, and my attempts turned out kinda like an artist copying a master's results instead of using the master's techniques.

this is basically all over the entire chapter right now, but it looks especially egregious with the door instance, above: we're being fed things through Fred's eyes, and 2014 me understood that his perception colors his narration, which in turn colors the reader's perception. but at this stage I hadn't learned the lesson that what you don't say is as valuable as what you do say. eventually I was going to figure out what to take and what to leave, but man that day was a long way off right here.

anyway back to Fred and his noise

It was overpowering. Fred wanted to turn around and run right back into the street; or maybe just pass out here and now

Fred r u okay

do u need a stimulant

No. This town was small; The Boar was certainly its only inn; and it had been looking like a storm tonight. Fred rallied. He turned to Sandy. "Don't come in yet. Don't let Marjorie or Powhatan come in either. I'll be out soon – I hope."

All I'm saying is it's okay to ask for help

"If you ask me," Sandy muttered as he walked in, "I'd say you're more likely not to come out at all."

an optimistic bunch we are today, aren't we?

The second look was not so bad as the first. Things seemed to start making sense as his gaze swept over the common-room of the inn again. Though the noise was still unbelievable. Straight ahead of him, through a tangle of people and tables, he saw a man in a stained white apron hustling wildly behind a dirty counter. So he started forward, working around the knots of coars and dour men who sat taciturn at the rough tables.

That was when he saw Andre.

Fred was stunned.

Then he whirled around quickly and headed for the door.

But by then it was too late... Andre spoke behind him. "So the youngster never died after all. Come over here, lad. Let me look at you."

yeah no

Unwillingly, as though being pulled, Fred came.

WHAT IS THIS? TANGLED? ARE WE LOOKING AT RAPUNZEL AND MOTHER GOTHEL?

Fred you knew this man for eight days walk out the door and never come back

Andre subjected him to a harsh scrutiny; Fred, though he desired only to flee the room, bore it without flinching.

I am not impressed by your... prowess? This man has nothing to hold over you and you have nothing to prove to him get the heck out of here

Andre leaned back at last and shut his eyes. "The stripling is growing up," he said aloud. "He is sterner than he was, and harder. Queer; I really never did expect it of him."

He seemed to be speaking to another person. And, Fred realized – he was.

"What's queer is the things you read in people's faces." The voice was bored and languid; a trifle annoyed. It was an unfamiliar voice, yet it seemed to resound somewhere deep, deep inside Fred's childhood memories... "... Really, you're almost frightening. You shouldn't wonder at the whisperings around town that you've got the Second Sight."

Andre's companion glanced up for the first time from the fan of cards oh yes folks we have identified a SHADY CHARACTER here, a GAMBLER at HEART as you may witness by the CARDS which he bears between his FINGERS which he was staring at intently; Fred for the first time glanced down at him. He felt rather – rather as if someone had hit him one too many times with a brick.

I feel like once would be too many times.

It was Lancelot.

Oh! Yay! Brotherly reunion! Wait of course nvm he plays cards *shields eyes judgmentally*

"Young fellow..." Lancelot was agreeing casually. "A bit on the peaked side. Not overly handsome... no, it's less that than that he simply hasn't got it. – You know – the rakish sort of appeal to ladies... actually if you want my opinion he's too good."

this entire conversation makes me feel so weird

"Pardon me," returned Andre coolly, "I would call it weak."

Lancelot let out a brief snort of laughter. Then he continued studying Fred. "Oddly enough... I have the feeling I've seen him before."

Yes, Fred wanted to say, you have. And also, he wanted to say, I don't wish to be made a laughingstock to my face.

then?? leAVE????????

He did not think he could bear their lazy discussion of him much longer.

I can't anymore guys I'm done *throws inn, bangs head on convenient desk, and yeets into next Tuesday*

Andre: "he's sterner and harder than he was"

Fred: *behaves like a freaking whipped dog*

"Yes... definitely strange. I tell you, Andre, though you might care to laugh at me – which you probably shouldn't – I have seen this puppy before..."

Then Lancelot snorted with amusement again. "Ah – aha... Yes, it was you. The little lady with a shopping bag. You who bumped my leg and then apologized..."

the weirdness has not evaporated.

Andre's lips twisted into a mocking smile. "So what was the man of the house doing in the grocery store, pray tell? What happened to all the lovely womenfolk surrounding him? Oh, is that it? You abandoned them, perhaps, in the wilderness – to save yourself?"

Overwhelming sickness swept through Fred. His hand clenched around the back of Lancelot's chair to steady himself. Still he did not answer.

*pinches forehead* because apparently not only can we not walk away from a confrontation that didn't have to happen, we also cannot defend ourselves with a simple "no I didn't" to some creepy desperado with a nihilistic complex

"I take back the peaked," said Lancelot drily. "His face has gone fishbelly white."

hhhh did I really write this

"Indeed," Andre murmured, the derisive smile still playing across his face. "Naturally I meant it as a jest; but perhaps it is true after all..."

why does every other heckin' sentence have to end in an ellipsis

He let the faint question hang in the air as he studied Fred again, gauging him like a man with a horse he wishes to buy.

Fred just say no it's not hard

Yet still Fred made no answer.

His head whirling, his heart paining, he stepped haltingly back. His voice when he spoke was strained.

Fred's Victorian heroine constitution is coming through again

"I must speak – with the innkeeper – about lodging. Farewell."

That was literally all you had to say this entire time but no you just stood there like a trussed pig and let them make fun of you and then acted like Andre's accusations were true?? when?? they were not?

As he walked with quick, nervous strides across the room, he heard behind him the sound of laughter.

This encounter was supposed to 1) introduce Lancelot as a true scoundrel and a rake, setting up future arguments between him and Fred's virtuous self, and 2) pull Andre back onto the scene as a kind of antithesis to Fred, a conflict that Fred wasn't yet strong enough to overcome. The problem was the storyline continued to shift, minimizing the opportunities where Fred and Lancelot would actually meet. Also, I couldn't quite define what flaw or inner demon Andre represented, and therefore the idea of how to resolve him as an antagonist remained elusive. He definitely didn't contribute to Fred's main internal conflict and if anything he detracted from it. One day I said to myself, it'd just have been better if Fred set him straight right there in that inn-room.

And that's exactly what I did.

~

"No." The innkeeper's voice was obstinate and grim. "We don't take kind to outsiders, we don't an' I ain't got much room left, and I ain't got no room left for them which take up with them." His begrimed finger jabbed accusingly in the direction of the table where reposed Lancelot and Andre.

And in one paragraph we have established the innkeeper as a small-minded, dirty chap who gives no room for second chances. Kind of like Fred but with extra dirt.

"They are not my friends," replied Fred in spent tones, without any conviction that he would be believed.

"Oho! Not, are they? Nay, I saw ye. Over there with 'em for nigh-on twenty minutes, ye was."

twen- twenty – twEnTy –

How long was Andre just staring at Fred???

"They wanted me to come – I didn't want to."

yes at this point Fred has proven that he can be coerced into literally anything except staying with a nice old man for free room and board for the rest of his life.

"Aha!" The innkeeper fixed a shrewd eye on Fred. "Owed 'em money, ye did?"

"No – no!"

"Ye did." The innkeeper folded his arms and stared belligerently at Fred.

Verity when describing Fred: "honest face"

Verity's characters interacting with Fred: "I have never met a less believable man in my life."

"He wanted me for nothing more than to torment me – I owe them nothing – nothing!"

honestly can't blame the innkeeper too much at this point, methinks the fellow doth protest too much

"An' what proof have ye, then?"

Fred drew himself up to his full height, and looked the innkeeper full in the eye.

"Nothing," he said steadily.

as you were then

"Wha-! Well–! Well now... that's..." The innkeeper quickly rallied. "Ah well, now, that's fine bluff, that is. Ye're still getting no room, not in my place."

Fred surrendered. He felt too drained of any strength to carry the argument further. "Very – well. At least give my sisters a room... I will pay for it now, if you wish..."

The innkeeper arched a highly suspicious eyebrow. "Ye 'ave sisters? I don' believe it," he added hurriedly.

"I can bring them. But not here."

"Eh?"

"I will not bring them into this room. Fred are you kidding me YOU'RE the one whose Victorian constitution couldn't handle the atmosphere. Marjorie would have had us all in a nice tight room sipping spiced ale by now. If there is a back way I can enter..."

The innkeeper looked half-inclined for the first time to believe Fred. "Ah... ye come this way, then."

Fred followed him down a dark hallway, down a short flight of rickety steps, and out a heavily barred wooden door.

"Now ye go fetch 'em," Fred was ordered. "I ain't followin' ye to be led into some foxhole."

I mean that's fair

Relief was visible in Sandy's eyes when Fred came around the corner of the building. "I was ready to go in after you," she snapped. "It's a miracle you weren't murdered in there."

Yeah he was gone for TWENTY MINUTES also you 100% should have come in after him

Fred ignored her. "Both of you – come please." He said nothing to Powhatan, who would hopefully stay behind.

Fred: I will not get treatment for my schizophrenic brother because he doesn't need it but I also don't want to spend time around him :)

Powhatan proclaimed sternly that he would no longer bow to the whims of the elements as the white man did. He would brave the wind, the storm...

They did not stay to hear more.

*taps chin* using the fake Native American as comic relief yeah that don't fly too well anymore do it now

The innkeeper stumped forward, eyed them – Fred dull-eyed and spent, Sandy scornful and ragged, Marjorie erect and ladylike. His gaze rested long on Marjorie.

I'm not saying he means anything bad by this but I'm also saying if he did Fred would be too much of an idiot to notice or maybe even care

"Awright," he said gruffly. "Ye can come in."

He did not apologize verbally for his suspicions, but Fred sensed some regret there. He attempted an answering smile as they were led off to their designated room.

"Were you arguing with him that whole time?" hissed Sandy. "You're pushing yourself way too hard. You look dreadful sick."

"Don't... tell Marjorie – don't shout – I saw Andre."

WHY ARE WE BABYING MARJORIE SHE IS LITERALLY THE MOST STABLE PERSON IN THIS TRIO

- quad I forgot Powhatan existed

Sandy stifled a horror-filled gasp. "You – what?"

"And Lancelot was with him."

"Who's Lancelot?"

"My – our – elder brother."

"Oh..." Sandy digested this silently. "I take it Lancelot isn't nice. Not if he goes around with that wolf in rat's clothing. That is literally the funniest thing anyone has said this entire book What did they do to you?"

"They... just – nothing. It would only upset you. They didn't hurt me... they just said things..."

They entered their lodgings and Fred dropped onto the nearest bed. "I'll rest now... Good... night... Sandy..."

And he knew nothing more for many long hours.

When he opened his eyes the room was lit – not with sunlight but with a pale, colorless winter-light; snow-light. It occured [sic] to him that the room was chill, and he shivered as he rose and stretched.

Though he had fallen asleep in his entire outfit, not even taking off his boots, someone had removed his coat and folded it neatly across the back of an armless chair. He reached for it and pulled it on, buttoning it securely and pacing as he waited for his body heat to warm it. At last he opened the door, hesitated, and walked down the hall.

The previous evening seemed like a blur; yeah it was all slightly surreal tbh he had no idea of the location of his room in relation to the rest of the inn. But haply for him, as he paused at an intersection of three different corridors, footsteps sounded down the middle one and Marjorie appeared.

"Fred!" she exclaimed. "Why, you're up."

"I... am..." Fred assented self-consciously. "Where's our – breakfast?"

sobs there are other ways to convey diction besides ellipses and dashesssssssss

"Oh," laughed Marjorie, "follow me this way."

They entered, he found, the common-room from yesterday. But it looked very different in the early morning – and, he noticed with relief, there was no sign of Lancelot or Andre anywhere.

Out the window was a broad expanse of white; thick, feathery snowflakes swirled and flurried to the ground.

"There was some storm last night," said Sandy at his elbow. "But it never woke you; you were sleeping like the dead."

"Sandy!" Marjorie protested.

"He was," said Sandy cheerfully and swaggered off.

a moment of actually enjoyable sibling banter is this Christmas

*glances at snow* oh it is

"How much fell?" asked Fred to anyone who could answer, concerned at the moment more with traveling abilities than how he had been sleeping.

"A foot to a foot an' a half," shouted the innkeeper from across the room. "More where it were driftin'."

A foot to a foot and a half was not so bad. If he broke a path in front, the girls could follow easily enough. This off his mind, Fred sat down and ate such a meal as he had rarely had in his twenty-one years.

There was another thing yet that nagged at him, however. "And the men who I spoke with yesterday?" he called to the innkeeper. "What of them? Where are they?"

"Gone," yelled the innkeeper, louder than ever. "Up and left last night, they did. Without so much as a by-your-leave takin' their pick of the larder, too. Well, good riddance."

if I were an innkeeper I would be a little bit more overtly upset about two guests taking their pick of the larder before they left.

Yes, thought Fred with an overwhelming sense of lightness and ease. Good riddance.

He never thought of asking which way they had gone – not until he and the others had been on the way for three hours, and there was no possibility of turning back.

I wrote this chapter in my 2014 NaNo phase where all my cousins were posting about NaNo on Facebook (which I had recently acquired) and I decided to challenge my own lil self to 800 words a day. I was specifically working on The Journey, which had been at a standstill for months, and the self-challenge actually worked. I got it to Chapter 9, where things took a nosedive and I let TJ rest for another nine months.

My writing skillz here had developed over the year since starting TJ – I think you can detect a slightly stronger focus on rhythm and definitely some tighter prose – but it's a long way off from masterful. My attempts to get deeper into Fred's headspace and show his inner fears and struggles backfired by being too heavy-handed and making me annoyed with him. My attempts to show Marjorie's and Sandy's character arcs just accelerated their growth beyond any real point of interest, so that they were suddenly static characters and all focus reverted to Fred.

Basically none of this chapter made it into the final cut. The only thing it contributes to the plot is the introduction of Lancelot and the re-introduction of Andre (i swear this is like bringing back Palpatine or something the number of times he's gonna reappear), and Lancelot doesn't even exist now. Andre alias Falgor appears briefly at the end of the published Chapter 6 to be put in his place by an a c t u a l l y more mature Fred who doesn't need Andre to tell him anything. Let alone that he's sterner ?? and hardEr??

and there are no long-winded arguments with Short, Dirty, and Suspicious Innkeepers

The Journey's journey has been a weird one so far. Where will it end? :) :) :)