1714: Brego’s Mistress – Chapter Two, Part OnePosted: March 20, 2017
Title: Brego’s Mistress
Topic: Lord of the Rings
Genre: Drama and Romance
URL: Chapter Two
Critiqued by Angie
Hey all! My name is Angie, and I’d like to welcome everyone back to everyone’s favorite (???) Lord of the Rings fan fiction, Brego’s Mistress. A fic that I can only figure as a…piece of literature romanticizing fucking horses.
Or maybe it’s just Flicka with a different name slapped on the front.
Nevertheless, as I look at Hannah’s Bio, I realize that her Tumblr is lothirielqueen.
*deep sigh* Let’s get going through part one of chapter two.
Four years later.
*snort* Great. Now the kid is eight. That makes things better. I’m sure this makes her less of a…you know what? No. I’m giving this guy/girl/horse? a second chance. I mean, you never know.
Léofe clicked her tongue, loosening her hold on the rope secured to Brego’s halter.
Goodness gracious. Are we ever going to get clear answers on who’s who? For God’s sake, if you can’t be arsed to explain this shit in your writing, at least make a character map or something!
At her command, he began trotting. She watched his legs carefully. His back left leg did not rise as high as the others. Hmm.
Ah, yes. I certainly remember the uses of ‘Hmm’ in the J.R.R. Tolkien writing style. I mean, good God. I realize it’s impossible to match Tolkien’s genius but the least you could do is try.
“Brego, come!” He did not cease his trotting as he approached, and she had to laugh.
Fuck dude, Léofe is making poor Brego run on his hind leg? Jesus Christ, this is more depressing than Theodwyn’s death scene. *looks into camera like in the Office*
This one loved to show himself off, and so it left her further perplexed that his leg was faltering during a simple trot.
Maybe…it’s because…he hurt his leg??? I mean, this is just a little assumption, and assumptions make asses out of you and me, but I’m pretty sure it’s a fair conclusion to make.
Brego was obviously unconcerned, and he blew hot breath into her face before trying to taste her hair. “Stop!” she said, placing a hand firmly on his muzzle. He snorted, but did as she bid. “Good boy!” She tickled his chin whiskers, giggling and cooing at him.
While that does accurately portray what the average animal owner does, I doubt this girl’s hand can wrap around Brego’s entire mouth. Even in a world with dragons and hobbits, this is the part that I find hard to believe.
“Who is my favorite boy? Who is my favorite friend? Yes, it’s you! It’s you, Brego!”
Hannah does realize that Lord of the Rings was written in the fifties, right? And it takes place around the year 3000, yeah? Hell, maybe this author only knows Millenial language.
The gate to the paddock opened with a creak. Knowing it could only be her father, she called, “About time you came, Papa! I was just going to fetch you to see Brego’s paces. He is outperforming geldings twice his age!”
No shit? I mean…he is only four years old, after all. Generally, as horses get older, they should get slower, right? Right?
I mean, goddamn. When I turn 34, I imagine I won’t be as chipper as I am now.
“That is good news, goosey,” his voice answered, and in confusion, she noticed that his normal enthusiastic manners were tempered somewhat.
Maybe it’s because there’s constant war in Middle Earth, and to be perfectly honest, Brego’s training isn’t exactly the most important thing we could be talking about.
And that’s lame.
She turned, and saw to her astonishment a richly armored man towering over her father, contrasting Gerdhelm’s worn out wool clothing and crooked posture. Oh no.
Oh no! There’s a…there’s a dude behind your dad!
Oh, the humanity! *screams*
And as if to punctuate the pain that he was unknowingly bringing, his eyes were travelling over Brego with marked interest and a measure of sophisticated arrogance, as if the stallion was already his.
Well, fuck! God damn, I thought the idea was to get rid of the horses. Don’t expect me to throw another pity party. Koori is still cleaning up from last time.
“Léofe, come here, child,” Gerdhelm held out a hand towards her, and her stomach sank. She knew why a nobleman would be here.
Well, no shit! You literally just explained it. Not only that, but you already explained it in the first chapter! Jesus fucking Christ, this fic has a bad case of amnesia.
Perhaps he was even a marshal. She tied Brego’s rope to a picket, and approached the men with no small amount of trepidation.
Nice sentence structure, Hannah. Brilliant transition. This is the greatest I’ve seen since…hell, My Immortal 2.
“I am Théodred, Mistress Léofe,” he said, and as she looked critically in his face, wishing to find fault, she found his features familiar somehow.
Oh great, it’s this asshole again. My favorite person. *imitates sticking finger down throat*
But when could she have met the king’s son? The prince! The prince was standing in her muddy corral!
Maybe it’s because he wants to take your fucking horse? Jesus, Hannah! You have a smaller attention span than a goddamned fruit fly!
“You humble our home by visiting,” she said, sweeping into a curtsey that she felt would rival any high-born lady.
Oh, goodness. I guess it’s time to bring out the buzzer again.
Ehh. I’m just gonna say she’s a Mary Sue and not hit the buzzer. Fuck it.
He had a crooked half-smile, and the force of it hit her rather hard.
I’m just imagining him smiling at her, and then Léofe just flies backwards like she’s in Harry Potter or some shit.
“I have come here today, Mistress Léofe, in search of a new mount. My Firebreath recently got on the wrong end of an orc mace.
Listen, Theodred. I get that you’re superior to Léofe in every single way, but can you please stop rubbing it in her face? I’ll give you a Twinkie!
My eored happened to be passing on patrol and I remembered the fame of the horses from your father’s farm.”
I should hope so. You certainly seemed interested in obtaining Brego when he was born. I’m fairly certain the fact that you don’t need to mention that you remember the horse you want.
*BLARING ALARMS BLARE*
“Firebreath?” she asked in surprise. “Was his dam Sunshadow?”
I’m going to give this author the benefit of the doubt and say that she is most certainly well versed in the Legendarium.
Not enough to write fanfiction, but she may or may not get there eventually. That’s more than I can say for most fanfic writers.
Now he seemed to be hiding laughter, though she did not know why. “Indeed, mistress. I was unaware you had interest in horse lines.”
For sure. Even though she was there at his birth, cuddling it to calm it down. If that doesn’t imply she hates horses, I don’t know what does.
“I do not choose the breeding myself, of course,” Léofe said. “But I will when I inherit my father’s farm. Pray do not look so shocked, Papa!”
Yes! *slams fists on desk* Wait, what?
A choking noise had escaped her father, and the prince had compressed his lips together, though he did not seem displeased at her comment.
Gerdhelm is kind of a dumbass, isn’t he? I mean, the whole point of the prologue was just to say that Theodred wants to obtain Brego, which may be bullshit, but we’ve still gotta move this fic along. And that certainly can’t happen if all we get are blocking acts and canceling acts and literally everything bad.
“Anyway, my mother trained Firebreath herself, he should have known better than to let himself get cut.” Feeling bold, knowing that this man, despite being her prince, was her adversary, she lifted her chin high.
Hey, at least Léofe is trying. That’s more than I can say for Hannah. Although I probably shouldn’t say that, I really don’t need another bounty on my head.
“He escaped worse odds,” the prince said, his voice becoming somewhat solemn. “But he was getting old, nigh on twenty-two years.
Jesus Christ. I mean, my old dog died when he was nineteen, but twenty two years sounds fucking impossible. I don’t even want to live that long!
He was given to me when I was but nineteen, many years ago now.”
Huh. There you go.
Léofe’s gaze dropped as her cheeks burned. Of course Firebreath would have been old! Horses did not last forever, even her mother’s, which had been famed across the Mark as the highest standard.
Cry me a table, Mark.
I hate the name Mark. It’s a dumb nitpick, but damnit if every Mark I’ve ever met was an asshole.
Except Mark Castleton.
Please don’t kill me.
“Prince Théodred requested that you assist him in choosing a stallion,” Gerdhelm cut in.
Bull-shit! You already know what horse you want, and I doubt there have been any drastic changes in the span of four years.
God, I feel old.
“He – he did?”
“And I am on a rather tight schedule, if it is all the same to you, mistress. I would prefer to have my new mount bought by sundown.”
And so instead of just buying the horse as quickly as possible and booking it, this happens.
“Will you take supper with us, sire?” her father asked.
“I would be honored.
I can’t decide which character here has the lowest IQ. Is it Theodred or Gerdhelm? Cast your votes on your handheld devices.
One does tire of patrol rations, and it is good luck to end business with refreshment.”
Jesus Christ, THIS IS A FARM. HOW DO YOU EXPECT THIS PLACE TO HAVE BETTER FOOD THAN A FUCKING CASTLE?
At the prince’s aquascience, Gerdhelm lumbered back towards the house.
Jesus Christ. Clearly Hannah hasn’t been reading that dictionary I threw at her, huh!
“Come with me.” Léofe’s words were clipped, and with a frosty stare she directed him towards the stables.
Why would Theodred trust a lying little shit such as Léofe? I don’t deny that Léofe isn’t the least awful aspect of the story thus far, but I seriously doubt that she can outsmart a prince. Even if he is Theodred!
Rather than walking in front of her, as she had expected, he instead matched her pace. “We have none experienced in battle,” she said as they entered the musty building, blinking to adjust to the dimmer light. “You might find an inexperienced mount difficult to ride, sire.”
Not to mention the fact that he’s limping and you’re still making him run. But who cares about animal abuse? We love Léofe, because!…I don’t know. I just. I don’t know.
“I have a remount that I am currently riding. I intend to continue to ride him until my new mount is fully trained.”
So why would you get him now rather than when he’s fully trained so you don’t have to care? Why would you take the fucking horse now if you don’t want to worry about training?
“I see.” The stallions were housed towards the end of the stables, where the stalls had been built considerably wider. “This is Dark Shadow,” she said, snapping her fingers at a black stallion, who immediately stuck his nose out to investigate.
Hiraani: *slides DVD onto Angie’s desk*
Oh, kill me.
“He is our largest, but he becomes slow if he runs too long.”
“What are his bloodlines?”
Dude. You don’t just ask that. At least buy Dark a drink first. *opens cabinet and pulls out bottle of Goose, pops cork*
The show-and-tell went similarly for all nine of the stallions. Léofe explained their virtues and vices, as well as their lines, and the prince entered each stall to examine them more closely.
…and then Dark’s bloodlines aren’t even defined. I get that it’s probably not important to the story, but can you at least finish a thought before you move on to the next one? Does this fic just have ADD?
Finally, after having looked especially close at the last, a bay with an ego, the prince left the stall with a frown forming on his brow. “Have you chosen?” Léofe asked.
*mouth is gaping incredulously* Mother. Fucking. Brego. Just take him and leave! Make this fic 60k words shorter!
The prince tipped forward on his feet, breathing deeply and staring into the distance, as if deep in thought. “Do you have any stallions of a younger age?” he asked.
*eyes roll into the back of my head* Holy French fry in a Frostie. Just get it over with. We all know which horse he’s going to get, let’s not let this keep dragging on. And this chapter isn’t even halfway over!
Dread filled her stomach in a pool of iron. She had known, as soon as she had seen the prince staring at Brego, exactly which horse he intended to buy.
Showing him the other stallions had been an attempt on her part to dissuade him. She did not want to give up her lovely Brego!
Oh no! Well, why don’t you cry about it?
Seriously, Léofe. You knew this day was coming eventually. Stop sounding so surprised.
“I am sure you saw Brego as you entered,” she said, forcing politeness into every word. “He is the youngest, and not fully trained.”
Fuck, I’m getting serious deja vu here. Didn’t we already go over this?
“May I see him?”
“I do not recommend your purchase of him,” she said quickly. “He needs more time with me.”
“I ask again. May I see him?”
Clearly Léofe doesn’t understand that Theodred is old enough to know better than her. She’s always trying to pull a fast one on him, but really and truly double crossing the prince most likely isn’t going to work unless you drug his drink, like that scene in Misery.
…well, those several scenes in Misery.
She was unable to hide a scowl, which seemed to amuse the prince though he did not comment as she led him back into the corral.
What an asshole. Really. Theodred is being such a dickwad. He’s a fucking prince, and while he is accurately being an entitled jerkoff, he wasn’t exactly the best character in the original Legendarium, was he.
Against her will, she found herself watching from afar as the prince and Brego began their bonding. It was obvious they were intended for each other.
Is ‘bonding’ really the only word you know for this shit? You can’t say that…or…you had to say bonding?
Brego had only shown such affection to one other – Léofe herself. The prince was unused to Brego’s tactics, however, and she smirked to herself as a large chunk of his hair disappeared between the horse’s lips.
“Blast it!” the prince cried, and he swatted Brego’s nose.
Can’t be much worse than Léofe making him run on his torn leg, though. I mean, that was just awful.
“I wish you luck in training that out of him,” Léofe commented, stepping forward to rub Brego’s neck. “I have been trying ever since he could reach my hair.”
*snort-giggle* I’m sorry, I can’t help it. That was just…that was actually a quality line. I really liked that. Here’s a redemption cookie. *finally takes a sip of the now lukewarm alcohol*
“I do not blame him for trying to nab your scalp,” the prince said, with a half-smile, though he did not meet her eyes. “Your hair is such a lovely color.”
*spits out Happy Juice all over the manuscript* What? You…and then you…what? That was THE creepiest thing I’ve ever read in a fanfic! And I’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey!
*looks at bottle* This is just a Capri Sun, isn’t it.
What an odd comment! Léofe frowned. “He’s a stubborn git, but he has a wonderful heart.”
And then she just shrugs it off like it’s nothing! Fuck you, Hannah! Fuck you!
“And his vices? You did not hesitate to tell me of the faults of the other stallions.”
She…she just said he was a stubborn git. What the…
WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?!
She sighed, leaning a cheek against Brego’s warm fur and closing her eyes briefly. “His only weakness is that I love him too much.”
No better way to end a riff than with a cheesy line.
And so ends the first half of Chapter Two of Brego’s Mistress. (Jesus, that was a mouthful) I hope you enjoyed! I’ve been Angie, and…fuck my life. Just. *sigh*