Music for Monday -- Epic

So, I'm starting a new feature: Music for Monday! Today, as with many days, I felt like some Epic.

I'm beginning with the song that started it all.

Those of you who know me are very familiar with the fact that I listen to Epic music extensively. For those of you who haven't been introduced to the genre, it's the type of music you hear in movie trailers and the like.

This was the first really Epic song that caught my attention:



Composer/Artist: Two Steps From Hell
Album: Legend
Impressions: Rollicking, rolling waves; throbbing heartbeat; marching army; grim cadence of a requiem; menacing strokes of an enemy's blade; dances of elusive forest creatures, sneaking through the underbrush; wingstrokes of a dragon; swaying of trees in a hurricane; hectic chase through crowded city streets; rubble flying as a cave roof collapses.

Give me your images! :D

Lesson 1 -- No Throwing Frozen Vegetables

"Where are the peas?"

"Mmmm, check the freezer. Top drawer."

I stooped over the white metal container -- which was, at the moment, belching frigid air -- and searched for the elusive vegetable. A moment later my hand closed on the bulging plastic bag, twisted closed at the top and emblazoned with a deceptively green picture of peas the size of golf balls. Solid as a rock!

I shoved at the drawer with my knee and it closed with a satisfying thunk. "They're frozen."

My mother turned from her post beside the stove and pushed yet another strand of rebellious brown hair behind her ear. "We might have expected that."

I turned to look at the pot of simmering garbanzo beans, potatoes, and onions that constituted an Indian Spiced Potato Salad. "Can't put them in there like this," I muttered. "I wonder..."

Without stopping to consult her, I gave an extra twist to the top of the bag and dropped it to the floor. Mom jumped. I waited for an extra tense few seconds to make sure the peas weren't going to explode all over the floor. Delighted, I picked it up again. A few of the peas rolled around under my fingers; the rest of them stubbornly stuck into an impenetrable lump of ice.
Mom glared at me with a dubious, playful air. "I wouldn't do that..."

It must be understood that my mother is not your common person (those of you who have seen her antics on Facebook know this well). It isn't that she means something totally different from what she says, it's just ... okay, maybe it is. In any case, I knew both of us would enjoy it, so I dropped it again, sort of cringing and knowing that it would be too good to be true if they didn't spill this time.

Well, not too good, after all. There lay the bag of peas on the floor, unmarred. I bent to pick it up, laughing softly. Sweet!

Rolling the bag around in my hand, I noticed a rather large lump of unsurpassedly stubborn peas still stuck near the edge. Feeling confident by now I lifted it above my head to drop it again. Mom raised an eyebrow. "Don't push it."

"But -- "

"Think your luck'll hold, punk?" she teased, poking me. She stepped back and watched.

I dropped it.

Oh, woe to those who do not listen to the whispering, nagging little voice in the back of their heads! The bag of peas plummeted downward towards the tiled floor, and in that instant I knew I had gone too far. Still ... there was a chance that the tiny little twist of the bag top would hold ... and after this I wouldn't do it again. Hold...hold...

It held, alright.

It was the bottom of the bag that didn't.

And all of a sudden there were tiny green planets spinning all around the galaxy of fake-marble floor. I groaned. Mom tried to hide a laugh behind her hand. "I'm not helping you pick those up."

"I know that," I said, grabbing a bowl. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

What you don't know is that the day before, I had spent a rather lengthy day at the playground, jumping over things, running along a miniature train track, pulling myself across the monkey bars, and generally setting myself up for very, very sore muscles the next day. As a result getting down in the floor in pursuit of the peas was rather painful, and associated with a lot of grunting and groaning and several bouts of "ow, ow, ow", usually with each one a note higher on the chromatic scale. Of course these were all laughed at by my mom who was triumphantly grinning and standing over me with a wooden spoon in her hand. The little random comments given in a richly sarcastic tone did little more for my pride. Things like "I thought you listened better than that" and "Do you need your hearing checked?" and "I can't wait to see this become a Facebook status!"

"Oh no," I muttered, pushing myself to my feet with a bowl full of thwarted peas in my hand and a defeated smirk on my face. "This one's getting a blog post."

Speculations ...

I have been disturbed by all of the stereotypical fantasy races that all of the popular literature of that genre seems to employ these days. Even Eragon fell into that trap. So I have made my races more original in hopes of evading cliche. Raechal. Sivanis. Tulirans ... but still, something nagged at the back of my mind.

Aha!

Elves.

Those of you who know me know that I use Elves extensively. Two of my three MCs are Elves. I'm not saying that they cannot be used in an original and productive way, but mine were just like all the others ... which really troubled me, especially since I had come up with something unique for all the other races.

Last week, Friday about 3 PM to be precise, I had an idea of sorts, but discarded it because of all the problems it caused. The idea was to have the Elves made more reptilian, with a flexible crest from the top of their head following their spine down to their lower back. Their culture was shaped around this; their emotions were displayed by what position the crest stood in (flat, frightened, straight up, angry and so on), they wore low-backed tunics to compensate, etc. Problem was, I have written over two thirds and more like four fifths of my story and some of the things my Elves did would be restricted by this trait. I discarded it.

Then Friday about 8 PM I had another thought. This one ties into a bit of my world's history. Around a thousand years before when my novel is set, there was a war between the Elves and the Humans over the heir to the throne. Things progressed rather rapidly to a very ugly level. It came to the point where each race was killing the other on sight without cause or provocation. Desperate, each of the sides scrambled to create an advantage. The Humans had strength and greater numbers, the Elves had precision in arms and heightened senses. So here's where the magic gets involved.

A highly powerful group of Human magicians constructed transportation devices called Portals, fed by Elven blood and energy. As in, you would spill Elven blood on the activating area, go through, and have your passage paid by the energy of the Elf involved. No one cared about the brutality of this invention; they simply cared about getting where they wanted to go and about killing more Elves. My idea was that at this point, the Elves were in their original reptilian form (with the crest) and were not called Elves, but [insert cool name here].

In retaliation, the Elves devised a magical disguise that hid their crest and almost everything that betrayed them as not being Human. Three things remained; pointed ears, their tall slender build, and their lower pain tolerance. There was possibly some other physical trait that is yet to be decided, like patches of scales/scaly skin in certain places. The disguise was successful for a while, but when caught, the Humans, bewildered at this strange Human-like creature who was decidedly not Human, dubbed them Elves. When they were found out, the Elves were weakened and forsook the war, fleeing behind a magical barrier. For over a millennium they stayed there, so used to their magic-induced form that they relied on their older, more animal form less and less. Eventually, all Elves except certain small groups forgot how to break the magic restraining their old form and accepted the name and shape the Humans gave them.

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Would it be too weird?

Lady E.