This is the next little bit I’ve written for my “Grimhollow” screenplay project.
SERIES OF SHOTS – AETHLAN ADJUSTS TO RAVENHOLLOW
Aethlan is forced to do manual labor for Orsir – but he is not suited for it…
He attempts to chop wood, and can barely lift the ax…
He manages to carry some of the wood, but keeps dropping bits and pieces – much to Orsir’s shame as he shakes his head…
ORSIR (V.O.): What were you, in your homeland?
At night, Aethlan and Sigrun stay awake together…
AETHLAN (V.O.): A scribe, sir.
By fire-light Aethlan and Sigrun teach each other to write their languages… and in indistinct whispers, to speak…
AETHLAN (V.O.): Or at least, apprentice to one…
Aethlan is brought before CASTUS, the old Skáld – a storyteller – of the village.
The Skáld is deadpan, and difficult to read.
ORSIR (V.O.): Castus will have use for you then – return before sundown.
Aethlan stares up anxiously at Castus as the two enter the man’s living quarters…
INT. – CASTUS’S HOME – DAY
Aethlan sits across from the old Skáld as the man pours a drink for them both.
AETHLAN: What is this?
Castus does not answer.
AETHLAN: Orsir said you had use of me.
He glances around at the collected bits of animal parts that fill the walls of Castus’s room – feathers, bones, skulls… but nothing from a raven.
AETHLAN: You’re not going to… put me on one of those walls, are you?
Castus chuckles and finishes pouring the drink.
CASTUS: Drink.
Aethlan eyes his cup. Castus shrugs.
CASTUS: More for me.
He downs his own cup in seconds and SIGHS with content.
CASTUS: Puts the fire in your belly – makes your heart ready to sing.
Aethlan wrinkles his nose, but slowly picks up the cup and brings it to his lips…
AETHLAN: Sing? Is that what you do?
He takes a sip, and SPITS it out. Castus laughs.
AETHLAN: I knew it, mine is poison isn’t it?
CASTUS: If it was poison, you already dead.
Aethlan looks down into his drink.
AETHLAN: Then what is it?
CASTUS: Mead.
The boy makes a face and sets his cup down.
AETHLAN: Just tell me what you want me to do… anything’s better than trying to lift an ax or carry wood around.
CASTUS: Orsir says you were… scribe. Now you will be Skáld.
AETHLAN: A what?
CASTUS: Tell stories – old stories. Remember the old tales so that the young may pass on.
Aethlan nods.
AETHLAN: That’s why we write them down, to remember.
Castus raises his eyebrows.
CASTUS: Read, do they? Your people?
AETHLAN: Oh… well…
CASTUS: Read some do not – but song, song they know. Song they feel. Remember. Pass on.
AETHLAN: You would teach me? An outsider?
CASTUS: The young not care for old tales – they care for glory, for battle.
AETHLAN: I see…
A glimmer of light appears in Aethlan’s eye – finally, a chance to do something he enjoys.
AETHLAN: Where do we begin?
Castus smirks.
CASTUS: First tale: Ginnunga.
AETHLAN (Sounding it out) Ginnunga…
FLASHBACK:
Aethlan recalls one of his late nights with Sigrun…
CLOSEUP on their hands as they write…
INT. – CASTUS’S HOME – DAY
AETHLAN: Empty?
Castus nods. He thinks for a moment. Then he holds his cup up with the empty inside turned toward Aethlan.
CASTUS: Empty beyond empty…
Aethlan is confused, but in a flash the answer comes to him.
AETHLAN: Abyss!
His eyes light up.
AETHLAN: The Earth was a formless void… and the Voice moved upon the face of the deep…
Castus furrows his brow.
CASTUS: No room for yours.
AETHLAN: What?
CASTUS: First child brought back, yes – but not first…
He struggles to remember the phrase in English…
CASTUS: Man of God.
AETHLAN: You mean… you’ve brought priests to your lands?
Castus waves the notion of priests aside.
CASTUS: Weak like you, always they come to me. Tell their tales, try to… con-vert.
Aethlan is quiet. The glimmer of hope is gone from him.
CASTUS: Learn our tales, and live.
The boy nods.
AETHLAN: I will… do my best.
CASTUS: Good. Now: first tale, Ginnunga…
Castus closes his living quarters off from as much light as possible.
A single candle is lit, which he holds as he and Aethlan sit across from each other.
He blows out the candle, and all is dark…
MUSIC CUE: “GINNUNGA” BY SKALD.
To be continued…
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