Gillian Bronte Adams

YA Epic Fantasy Author

Fantasy Reflections: Many Meetings

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I’m just a tad nervous about this question. It requires an earth shattering blend of colliding worlds, realms, cultures, and eras. Be prepared to stretch your imagination muscles. Stretching — it’s good for you, right?
Don’t think I can’t hear you groan! It’s actually a fun one to answer … I promise … until you wind up with double the correct amount on your list and have to start eliminating them. *shudders* Talk about painful.
Here’s the crack team I narrowed it down to in the end:
1. Kaladin
(Way of Kings, Brandon Sanderson)

He’d make a great leader for the Fellowship. He’s an expert spearman, knows how to motivate his followers, and cares for those under his charge, not to mention his training as a surgeon which lets him double as team medic!
2. Fflewddur Fflam
(Chronicles of Prydain, Lloyd Alexander)
Whether you’re in need of a companion to lighten the mood or fight like mad, Fflewddur Fflam would be an excellent choice. His harp provides an endless source of entertainment — both when he’s actually playing it and when the strings react to his flamboyant tongue and tendency to exaggerate.
3. Eanrin the Bard
(Tales of Goldstone Wood, Anne Elisabeth Stengl)
Because let’s just admit it, watching Fflewddur Fflam and Eanrin facing off would be hilarious! Not to mention the fact that both Eanrin the Bard and Eanrin the cat would be a tremendous asset to the quest.
4. Artham P. Wingeather/Peet the Sock Man
(Wingfeather Saga, Andrew Peterson)
Who could resist an offer of assistance from the winged Throne Warden of Anneira? And Peet the Sock Man is well worth his weight in a fight.
5. Waxillium Ladrian
(The Alloy of Law, Brandon Sanderson)
Wax may be from a slightly different era than the others, but I feel like he could hold his own on the quest. (Especially if he’s allowed to time/realm travel with his Sterrion revolvers!)
6. Wayne
(The Alloy of Law, Brandon Sanderson)
Wayne and Wax are a bit of a package deal. They work well together, and Wayne’s unique ability to disguise himself and become other people would be most useful!
7. Reepicheep
(Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis)
There are few knights I’d rather have by my side, than this noble knight of Narnia. Stalwart. Courageous. Faithful to the end. I’d trust Reepicheep to travel to Mount Doom and back with me.
8. Lochlan Stormgarden
(The Errant King, Wayne Thomas Batson)
Loch is just an interesting young character. He’s a bit impetuous, tends to shrink a bit from too much responsibility. But he’s highly talented and just the sort of fighter who would come in handy.
9. Taran Wanderer, Assistant Pig Keeper
(The Chronicles of Prydain, Lloyd Alexander)
Taran is a young fellow and he certainly has a lot to learn. But he’s a loyal companion and he has a stout heart.
How about you? Who would you select for your Fellowship of the Ring?

Coming Home – The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug

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“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty,
dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a
dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a
hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”
– The Hobbit, J.R.R Tolkien
Thus began the first story my dad ever read aloud to me. At
least that I can recall. I was five years old at the time and the strange creatures
of Middle Earth—hobbits, dwarves, goblins, and the dragon—speedily populated
the world of my imagination.
By the time I was seven, my dad had finished reading The
Lord of the Rings aloud. He gave me my own copy for my seventh birthday and I
loved it so much that for the next year I slept with it at the foot of my bed.
Tolkien’s Middle Earth became a sort of home away from home
for me, the backdrop of all my imaginings. The characters became than a child’s
imaginary friends. To this day, The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings remain my
favorite books. And yet, unlike some Tolkien purists, I also absolutely love
the movies, despite their differences.
Around Christmas time, I went to see The Hobbit: Desolation
of Smaug. I’d heard mixed opinions of the movie—lots of comments about the
addition of Tauriel, Legolas/Tauriel/Fili, and the extended plot lines—so I
wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
But I loved it. Differences. Mistakes. Drawn out plot and
all.
Tolkien set out to create an epic worthy of the Norse
mythologies he studied. Mythology grows over time. It is not the work of a
single author. It’s bigger than that. It power rests in its ability to capture
and stimulate the imagination of others. And in turn, to absorb their
interpretations and additions.
Because of that, I think that Peter Jackson’s imagining of The
Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings remains true to the spirit of Tolkien’s work,
if not true to every detail. I watch the movies as much to see the beauty of
Middle Earth in living color on the screen as to know the characters and follow
the story.
Mirkwood. The Woodland Realm. Lake-Town.
All there. So much more fantastic than I could have imagined
them.
So yes, I loved The Desolation of Smaug. Just as I loved An
Unexpected Journey. And just as I’m sure I’ll love the third and final installment
when it finally comes out!
I think because Tolkien’s work was such a huge part of my
childhood, watching The Lord of the Rings movies and reading the books feels
like coming home.
A journey there and back again.

The Beauty of Imagination

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The Lord of the Rings
I was five years old when my dad started reading The Hobbit aloud to me at night, introducing me to a whole new world of imagination. A world full of goblins and dragons and magic rings and little hobbits who faced their fears and became the most courageous characters of all.
At five years old, I was afraid. Afraid of the dark. Afraid of goblins. Nothing like the brave hobbits.
So my heroic dad came to the rescue … and made me a sword. My first weapon! A magnificent blade, two feet long … crafted from the finest aluminum foil in the realm.
Yep. Aluminum foil. It was a mite flimsy. But I didn’t mind. I named it Sting and set it beside my bed in case of danger in the night.
I slept easy after that, comforted in the belief that if danger ever threatened, I could grab my trusty sword and it would become strong in my hand, a mighty weapon capable of slaying the fiercest dragon.
Imagination is a beautiful thing, is it not?
Beautiful Books
My older sister was an avid reader. She devoured books at a rate most rampaging dragons couldn’t hope to compete with. But on the rare occasions when she could be coaxed to set her book down, we played together in the back yard while she invented wonderful stories full of amazing people, places, and settings.
Together we sailed ships through terrible storms. Galloped across the hills pursued by enemies. Dug our way out of a prison camp.

But it wasn’t until several years later, when I picked up some of my older sister’s books, that I realized where her stories came from.

So many of the characters, places, and stories we had played over the years were drawn from the books she was reading at the time.

Imagine it for a moment. You pick a book off the shelf, flip it open, and suddenly realize that a character seems oddly familiar, almost as though you’ve met before. You recall a name, but can’t figure out how. The story you’ve never read tugs at your memory.

Deja vu?

The more books I read, the more I realized that I had already traveled a fair bit around the literary world in those games in the backyard.

I’d sailed to Treasure Island with Jim Hawkins. Traveled to Letzenstein and escaped from Julius Varenshalt along with Catherine Ayre from the Letzenstein Chronicles. Journeyed through the Wardrobe to Narnia along with the four Pevensies.

I think I can honestly say it was that first epic story I heard … and those wonderful little games we played … that inspired me to write novels of my own.

To create characters and worlds and events that would transport others to an imaginary place. To allow others to experience what I had experienced.

The beauty of imagination.

It’s a wonderful gift.

“Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it we go nowhere.” – Carl Sagan 

The Sea-Longing

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And  now Legolas feel silent, while the others talked, and he looked out against the sun, and as he gazed he saw white sea-birds beating up the River. “Look!” he cried. “Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.

~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Return of the King  

The sea-longing.

I have felt it.

Have you? The indescribable feeling that stirs in your heart as you stand upon the sandy shore overlooking miles upon miles of rolling waves. Water stretching in all directions. Deep. Unfathomable. Seemingly endless.

And the cry of the gulls. Can you hear them?

And yet there are other things that inspire this same feeling.

A lightning storm. Flickering strands of light crawling across a midnight sky. The rhythmic drumming of hooves galloping across a green field. Soaring melodies that summon emotion and stir the soul. A book that resonates deep within. That creates this longing, this desire for something more.

According to Tolkien’s essay On Fairy Stories, this longing is the purpose of all true fairy-stories, for they are “not primarily concerned with possibility, but with desirability. If they awakened desire, satisfying it while often whetting it unbearably, they succeeded.”

C.S. Lewis also speaks of this desire in The Weight of Glory. 

In speaking of this desire for our own far-off
country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness . . . We
cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually
appeared in our experience . . . The book or the music in which we thought the
beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them
was longing . . .

Longing . . . but a longing for what? What is this desire that great beauty awakens?

The desire for something more. For a world beyond our own. For a purpose in our lives. For true love, true pleasure, true joy, true glory, true beauty.

The longing for our Creator.

These things–the beauty, the memory of our own past–are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the things itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers  For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never visited.

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory 
This deepest of longings cannot be satisfied by anything in this world. For this desire is for something deeper than anything in this world. All other things are but shadows and dust that will fade with the rising of the sun.

The book of Hebrews houses the “Hall of Faith” in chapter eleven. After mentioning Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and others, it goes on to say:

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own . . . Instead, they were longing for a better country–a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.

~ Hebrews 11:13-16 

We are longing for a better country. A heavenly one.

I believe the longing that fills our hearts when we see the ocean, or the glory of a sunrise, or explore the depths of a truly great book, is a longing for our true home.

A longing for the far country.

Wanted: Burglar To Share In Great Adventure – Middle Earth Ramblings

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“As they sang, the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking stick.” ~ The Hobbit

I expect most of us, like Bilbo, have a bit of a Tookish side. The part of us that loves adventure and the thrill of peril and the glory of great deeds. The part that loves reading Tolkien or leafing through ancient epics, watching action and adventure movies, the sight of the road going ever on and on.

The part that wants to wear a sword instead of a walking stick.

“I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.” ~ Gandalf

If only he had stopped by at my house on the way to the Shire. The Tookish part of me is jumping up and down at the moment, “Pick me! Pick me! I’ll sign up!”

And I would in a heart beat.

If The Hobbit were set in modern times, I could see Gandalf writing up this ad and posting it on facebook, or craigslist, or somewhere online.

WANTED: Burglar to share in Great Adventure.

Requirements: small, stealthy, clever.

Destination: the Lonely Mountain.

Object: Gold.

Remuneration: treasures beyond imagining.

Employers: Thorin and Company.

Expected enemies: trolls, goblins, wargs, dragons, and other nefarious creatures that inhabit the dark places of Middle Earth.

Danger: High.

Chance of return: Slim.

Apply at the Prancing Pony in Bree, ask for Gandalf.

Note: Thorin and Company are not liable for any injuries to employees, including (but not limited to) loss of life, limb, or sanity, dismemberment by wargs, enslavement by goblins, or barbecuing by dragons.

As Gimli would say, “Certainty of death . . . small chance of success . . . what are we waiting for?”

The Death of a Character

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As a reader, nothing enrages me more than the arbitrary and unnecessary death of a beloved character!  I still remember books that I read growing up where I was absolutely furious at the author for killing off a character that I loved… for no reason.  Well, there probably was a reason, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem enough in my mind to justify the death of the character. 
Sometimes, it gets to be so bad that I’m afraid to allow myself to like any of the characters beside the main character.  Especially if they possess certain qualities like goodness, heroism, selflessness, etc. because the author almost inevitably kills them off! 
And nothing makes me angrier than when a character is killed simply to elicit an emotional response from the reader!  I don’t like to feel emotionally manipulated.  There’s a difference between a moving death scene and a death scene that is rigged to make you cry… I refuse to cry over the latter!
That’s from the perspective of a reader, now as an author…
Obviously, since I write in the fantasy genre and my present story falls under the category of high fantasy, and it involves desperate battles, overwhelming forces, and the fight against evil, some of my characters are going to die.
So, an author, how do I approach “killing off” one of my characters?
First off, the death of the character should always be justifiable.  A character should never be killed off arbitrarily (and by “character” here I’m referring to both important minor and main characters).  The death of a character should always accomplish something – either adding something necessary to the plot or to the development of another main character.
In the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Gandalf’s death in the Fellowship of the Ring was justifiable.  It was necessary even.  His death stayed true to his character – a sacrificial death to save the lives of his companions.  It accomplished something – his death allowed the others to escape.  It raised the stakes and added to the tension of the plot – the Fellowship suddenly lost their leader and the guidance behind their mission.  And it caused character development in both Aragorn and Frodo – Aragorn’s emergence as the leader and soon to be King of Gondor and Frodo’s resolve to carry on his quest alone so that the rest of his companions would not be endangered. 
Secondly, the death should remain true to the character.  If your character is a hero, let him die heroically!
In the play Cyrano de Bergerac – yes, I’m talking about Cyrano again!  If you have not yet read it, I suggest you get your hands on a copy forthwith and bask in the warmth of the epic genius.  I hate to spoil it for anyone, so if you haven’t read it, don’t read the following paragraph!
Cyrano dies at the end of the play.  A hero the equal of the Three Musketeers, Cyrano meets a rather ignominious end when he is struck on the head by a log of wood thrown out of a window by a servant…  The fact is lamented in the play itself!  But although the circumstances of his death are far from heroic, Cyrano meets it with the poise, courage, and heart of a warrior!  His response is what makes the death fitting.  A humble death met heroically by a hero!  And the death scene is amazing!  Since I can’t quote the whole thing here, I shall have to repeat my encouragement that you read it yourself!
If you are going to kill a character, make it an end worthy of the character!
Thirdly, don’t let the death be wasted!
Have you read/seen this scenario before? 
The battle is raging fiercely.  The main character spies the villain and rushes to attack.  But, oh no!  Suddenly, the main character is trapped or pinned down… he can’t escape… can’t even defend himself!  And the villain steps forward to deliver the death blow.

Just then, a friend rushes in, right in the nick of time, and takes the blow that was meant for the main character!  “NO!”  But as the friend dies, the main character is suddenly so angry that he manages to get free and defeat the villain!
What a wasted death!  Certainly it met the first two requirements: it was justifiable (otherwise the main character would die), it was a worthy death (self-sacrificing) but it was wasted!  If the main character could have gotten free on their own in the first place, then there was no need for the friend to die!
Anyway, to wrap up my thoughts, if I’m going to kill off a character (that sounds so terrible doesn’t it?) then at least I need to make sure that my reasons are justifiable and not arbitrary, that it is a worthy end, and that it is not wasted!
If you can’t tell, I’ve been writing an epic battle scene lately!  ;)
So, what are your thoughts on the death of a character?  Any other important things to remember?  Good examples?  Bad examples?  

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