Writer's block?

Well, it's funny. I never sat down while I was writing Rightful Heir and came up empty. Now that I have to write summaries of my book to send off to potential agents, my mind is a blank. I dunno if it's nerves or just overwhelming to sum up my story in two to three pages. Once I have the summaries, I plan to send it to three agents. Keep your fingers crossed! I will post a chapter on Max as soon as I get some feedback about what's already posted. Let me hear from you about what you think.

Megan

Chapter 1

Megan Keeley was eleven years old, but tomorrow she would turn twelve. There would be a party, gifts, and most anticipated of all, an announcement. She would find out tomorrow whom her parents had chosen to be her future husband. Her brothers had been playfully teasing her that it would be Benjamin Pridemore, a most pompous little chubby boy from Flickersee. She hoped not, though her choices seemed limited. Max Harcourt was Lord Harcourt's nephew, half elf, but she was unsure her parents would marry her to him. Some, especially the highborn, looked down mixing of the races upon. A Spencer from Allard? One of the Moore's from Highmore? There were so many of them, one was bound to be near her age. Possibly, some other lord's son, or maybe, even a knight's son, if he had been a promising squire. She couldn't even begin to guess.

The marriage contract would usually be made while the children were mere babes. When the girl entered her twelfth year, she would go to live amongst the family of her betrothed. At fifteen, if both she and her intended were in agreement, the wedding would take place. Either, or both, of the young people could refuse the marriage without disgrace or consequence. It was considered poor taste to take a second wife, but it was not forbidden. Most often a second marriage was only contemplated when a child was not born to the couple within a reasonable time, or a wife was physically or mentally incapable of performing her role.

Megan was a tall, slight girl with black hair that hung in long waves, when it was wet it would curl into little ringlets around her face. Her gray eyes were flecked with green and blue, and they sparkled, especially when Megan was happy or angry. Her face was heart shaped, and she had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She had an inner strength that was rare in a girl so young. She was clever and tenacious, which her mother often said was a blessing and a curse.

Her father had named her Megan because it meant "pearl". He told her many times she was his pearl from the sea, the sea that he loved so much. She spent long hours outside with her brothers fishing, shooting a bow, and learning how to sword fight. With four brothers it was hard to spend any time at all on more girlish activities, such as painting or sewing. When Ivy, her brother Aidan's betrothed, had come to live with them more than two years past, she had started spending some of her time in more feminine pursuits, to the relief of her mother.

"Megan?" she heard Fern ask as she came out of her daydreaming.

"Fern?" she replied.

"Well, now that we both know who we are," said Fern smiling, "what is the answer to the question?"

"What question?" replied Megan innocently. Ivy, and her younger brothers, Elijah, Ephraim, and Alex giggled loudly.

"Lessons are over for today. I think someone is too excited to pay attention, so let us call it an early day," said Fern. The boys jumped up and ran from the room shedding shoes and shirts on the way outside. Megan and Ivy walked slower, whispering to each other, but they were no less excited.

"Are you very nervous, Meggie?" Ivy asked. Ivy was the sweet, bubbly girl who would marry Aidan after the harvest festival this year. They made a perfect match; both were quiet and thoughtful, but intelligent and hard working. Megan was close to both of them and knew they loved each other, which was uncommon in many arranged marriages. She was happy for them.

"I am, very, dear Ivy, but I know my parents made the right choice for my future. I am sure of it," replied Megan. "I can't wait for Father to return, two weeks is ever so long not to see him." Megan missed her father when he spent long stretches of time in Ebbs Delage , meaning Tidal Storm in old Elvish. The city was a half days ride northwest of their home, Pennington Bluff. It was large, noisy, and dangerous. Megan had been there many times, but she was always anxious to return home again. She worried for her Father's safety, the sailors were rough and tumble, he seemed so civilized compared to them. As constable in the city, he rendered judgments in court, and she knew sometimes he made the sailors and bandits angry. Mother told her never to worry about him, that he was a strong swordsman, and if he were attacked, there would be no holds barred. Also, his squire, David, was better with a bow than any man she had ever seen. This made Megan feel a little better, if Mother had no fear, then neither should she.

David was the son of Sir Martin York, her father's Captain of the Guard, and his wife, Laura. Laura had died giving birth to David, and all the women at the Bluff helped raise him. Mrs. McCann, the cook, had been his milk nurse, since he was of an age with her youngest son, Pollard. David had wavy brown hair and liquid brown eyes with long lashes. He was unusually tall and muscular like his father, but his face was fair like his mother. When he smiled, he had a dimple in each cheek, and a slight gap in his front teeth. All the girls in Ebbs Delage swooned over him, but he usually acted disinterested.

"Megan, Ivy, Father will be along soon," yelled Aidan. "Let us go out and meet him on the road. The boys will run up the flag and join us." The flag of a keep was only flying when the Lord was at home, so theirs had been in the stable during Father's absence. The Keeley's crest was a brown ship on an ocean blue background. Megan thought it was one of the prettier crests she had seen. The boys would hoist it over the highest tower, so everyone would know the Lord was in residence.

The road to Ebbs Delage ran through the northern gate, while the road through the southern gate went to the town of Allard. The eastern gate looked out over field and forest, while to the west there was no gate at all, only a cliff, over 20 meters high, that went down to the rocky beach below. Inside the black stone walls, there was a Great Hall, the largest west of Highmore, three towers where the family had their rooms, a stable, a kitchen with a garden behind it, the Smith's forge, and a kennel. The black stone of the castle was turning white in spots, from the salty sea breeze constantly blowing against it. Green moss grew up the sides of the walls, making them look older and less well tended than they actually were. The bailey was nearly four acres, large enough for the boys to sword fight, and dogs and children alike to run and play. Each gate also had a small tower for the guardsmen.

Megan thought her home was the most welcoming castle she had ever seen. The views were awe inspiring, the weather was usually warm and comfortable, and all the people she loved lived there with her, Mother, Father, her brothers, and Fern. Fern was more than her tutor, she had been Megan's companion all of her life. She told Fern everything, even things she couldn't tell Mother or Father. Fern was an elf of vast knowledge, though she was still young for an elf, only 36 summers. Elves of the realm regularly lived the span of four or five generations of men.

The girls headed to the stable where they found their horses already saddled and ready. Megan's horse was a small, white stallion named Snow. Megan had named him for the rare spring snow that had fallen the day he was born. She had been there for his birth four years earlier, and girl and foal had bonded deeply. Megan had a gift with animals. Her sweet nature put them at ease, and her compassion made her always ready to fix a broken wing or nurse a cut or other ailment. She would catch a fish now and then, but she was never seen near the kitchen yard when the chickens were killed and cleaned. She didn't have the stomach for it. They headed north on the strip of road all laughing and taking turns at racing each other. A mile outside the keep they saw two horses in the distance.

When the two parties were close enough, Megan took off at a gallop straight on at her father's pretty white mare. Everyone held their breath. She reached out with her right arm while her father reached out with his. When her horse was alongside his and just inches between them, he grabbed her upper arm and swung her into his saddle behind him. It was a trick he had done with his brother when they were just boys, and it made Megan's mother crazy with worry when they did it, but Megan loved it. She knew her father would never drop her, and it was something special that only the two of them shared. It only worked if one, or both, of the riders were very strong, and the horses were familiar enough with each other to trust they wouldn't collide. Luckily, her father's horse was mother to her horse, so all the pieces fit.

Everyone laughed when they were once more successful, and Ephraim yelled, "I will tell Mother." No one was surprised; Ephraim was Mother's favorite.

"Go ahead and tell. You'll just make her worry," laughed Megan. Megan noticed David riding ahead. Usually David rode along with them and talked of their journey, but today he only waved and rode on. He seemed to be hiding something. He had a bundle on the saddle in front of him, and Megan could swear it was moving.

"Are you ready for all the festivities?" her father asked.

"I will never sleep tonight, Father. What did you bring me? Did you bring me something from town?"

"Tomorrow, my wee girl. You will find out all tomorrow."

"I am not a wee girl anymore, Father. I will be betrothed and living in my future husband's home very soon."

"Do not remind me, Meggie. It will be very hard to let you go." Marshall Keeley had a sad look on his face. Megan was his only daughter, and they had always been close. She seemed too young to send so far away. He vowed to himself he would visit her frequently. It was her duty to go, she had an important role in the future of Jarosh.

After dinner, with all the children packed off to bed, Marshall and his wife, Jocelyn, had time to discuss the morrow's festivities.

"Do you think we were right in our decision?" Marshall asked his wife. She looked at him realizing how much she loved him. The mustache and goatee he sported now, made him look mysterious. His dark hair was curly, and he kept it short, unlike many other men of the realm. But, she liked it that way. She could stare into his tan eyes everyday, and there would always be love reflected back at her. He had an athletic build, and he was strong, much stronger than he looked.

"Marsh, did we have any choice? Do you say no to your King? It was a great honor they were willing to wait for a daughter to be born to us. It was that important to him to join our two families."

"I know, I know, but I want her to be happy. I love her so much. She reminds me of you, sweet Jocelyn."

"Yes, and I came here to the Bluff to marry you at the same age Megan is now. Remember? And I have been very happy."

"Well, you hear the rumors. Will he love her, as I love you?"

"I cannot predict the future. But, Marsh, the deal is made and now we must trust, in him and in Megan."

Jocelyn had come from Flint Keep to Pennington Bluff when she was but twelve. Marshall had been an introverted boy, who had barely spoken to any girls outside of his own sister. Jocelyn had a kindness to her nature though, and she brought him out of his shell over time. Her beauty, both inner and outer, won over all the Keeleys, and she was accepted and loved by them. Even Marshall's older brother, Talmage, who was always difficult and the black sheep of the family, had warmed to her before his ship was lost in a storm. His body had never been found.

Marshall's father, Stuart, had died several years before, but his mother, Ila, was still alive. She lived in Ebbs Delage, in the family home there. Marshall's brother Richard, along with his wife, Ada, lived there as well. Richard ran the trading company, and his daughter, Hope, was recently betrothed to Brady Pridemore. She was presently living amongst her new family in Flickersee.

"Now then, where is this gift I have heard so much about?" Jocelyn demanded with a smile.

The two of them walked hand in hand to the stable where David was keeping the puppy occupied. It was a little tan fur ball, chewing on the edge of a pony's blanket and growling a growl that sounded more like a squeak. It was a Wolfhound, a large dog known for its devotion. Marshall hoped it would give Megan some comfort if she was homesick, and some protection, if she were in danger.

"O my gods," laughed Jocelyn, "that child will love this little thing on sight. Come here, you little fireball." Jocelyn scooped up the pup and held it to her face. At first they just stared at each other, and then, the pup stuck out its tongue and licked her. She cuddled it close to her chest.

"Marsh, would you mind....."

"I know what you would say, woman," Marshall laughed. "The pup must sleep cuddled with us tonight?"

"How did you know?"

"I have known you over twenty years. More than enough time to know that look in your eyes."

"David, you chose well. We will see you tomorrow for the celebration," Jocelyn called back, as they walked out of the stable. The couple walked to the bluff where they had been watching the stars together for many years.

"Marshall, I think maybe we should have another child. I am not past age yet, and Alex is getting so big all of a sudden."

"And Megan is leaving us," he said with a frown.

"So, then you would not mind?"

"No, I would not mind, love."

"Good, because, well, we are," Jocelyn said laughing. Marshall picked her up and swung her around.

"I cannot whoop and holler, cause the whole house is asleep. But I am happy, Jocey, truly happy." Jocelyn still had a slim figure, even after birthing twins. Her black hair remained lustrous and thick. Her eyes were gray like her daughter's, but her flecks were darker almost black. She had an exotic face with large eyes and full lips. No one who saw her could deny her beauty. Marshall kissed her softly, and she pulled him close.

Megan had told her father the truth earlier in the day. She couldn't sleep. She sat in her window seat looking over the sea. It was her favorite spot in the whole world. During the day the view was so beautiful, and the sea breezes always brought the salty sea smell to her window. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she would sit and examine the stars and dream of her future. She wanted the love of a brave man and children, maybe a lot of children. Right now, her parents were far below her walking along the bluff, their laughter, carried up to her by the breeze, sounded like wind chimes. They were hugging. On her tongue was only one prayer, please, please let her and her betrothed love each other like that.