Decided to write a little oneshot for no real apparent reason. Just had the idea and I needed to write it out. There's a little bit of action, a little bit of fantasy, and if you look closely, you can see the little bit of romance.
And for those who follow A World Of Our Own, YES I'm working on the next chapter and it should be out either this Monday or next. PATIENCE.
But without further ado... Here is the fluffy fantasy oneshot no one asked for!
Once upon a time, or so I hear that's how a story begins, there lived a little girl with her little family in a little village just at the foot of a very large mountain covered in a very thick foliage of forest. And little as it was, the village rarely received the unwanted visits of bandits most villages its size often had. Strange too, considering the only road that lead into the large mountain ran through the village. Right through the heart of it. In fact, it was so strange, that others who did not live in the village would question the villagers. How did they avoid danger?
Well, you could ask anyone you wanted in that village. Anyone at all. They'd give you the same answer:
They were protected by the spirit of the forest.
"The spirit of the forest?" A young boy scoffed, interrupting the old woman's story. "There's no such thing as spirits!"
Thunder rolled outside and rumbled with the titters of a few adults sitting nearby. They didn't believe either. Her story was just that, a story for little kids to enjoy.
The inn was busier than usual, what with the storm raging outside. All of the travelers were so desperate to escape the rain and rest after a long days travel. So the old woman had decided to take some of their load of by entertaining the still rambunctious children the tired parents could not wrangle. You'd just think they'd be more grateful.
Still, the old woman smiled.
"What's your name, young man?" she asked the boy who'd spoken out.
The boy shifted, sitting up proudly. Too mature to be sitting with a bunch of kids, or so he probably thought.
"My name's Jean!" he answered crossing his stubby little arms over his chest. A challenge.
But the old woman kept her smile. "Well, Jean, if you don't like my story, you can always head to bed early."
Jean's cheeks puffed and reddened, his pride deflating along with his posture. The rest of the children huddled around the old woman giggled.
The old woman granted herself a short chuckled. "Now then… where were we?"
A girl with an arm full of bread answered, "The spirits!" Then she smacked away the hand of a bald child trying to steal a loaf from her hands.
Another chuckle. "Ah, yes! The spirit of the forest…"
There was more to this spirit, however, for the spirit also came with a legend.
It was said that long ago, a young man ventured into the mountain, back before the forest had grown. Back when the mountain was merely ice and rock. So cold and barren, no one had dared trespass on the mountain before. For all who did would surely die. But despite the warnings, the young man would not be swayed.
'A vicious landscape it may be, but the mountain was a part of this world,' he would say. And every part of this world was worth loving to him.
He never returned. Never found again. But no one could deny that they day he left was the day the ice began melting on that mountain. Nor could they deny that it was the same day they saw plants growing from what had appeared to be nothing more than lifeless rock. And not even the most hardened of nonbelievers could argue against the fact that there had not been a spirit before that young man had traveled onto that mountain.
And that was the story all the villagers would tell.
True, most did just laugh it off. There's no such thing as spirits, they would cry. But they never spoke to the frightened bandits who somehow could never bring themselves to attack the village. They never spoke to the travelers who became injured after insulting or damaging the forest. And they certainly never spoke to the little girl with her little family in her little village just at the foot of a very large mountain covered in a thick foliage of forest who saw the spirit with her own two eyes.
Only one person every actually challenged the forest. A stupid soul. A so called magician who was rotten to the core. He believed the tales and sought to take the spirit for himself. Turn him into a road side show and personal slave.
And he would use the little girl as bait.
Trickster that he was, the magician lured the girl into the forest with empty promises of fun and play. And she followed. For how could someone who conjured such wonderful things be bad? And it wasn't until they were deep into the forest and far off the beaten path that the girl realized something was amiss. And the rope that tried to entrap her confirmed her fears.
Not everything conjured was wonderful.
The man revealed his plans to her, but the little girl would not allow it. The forest was practically her home.
'I'll never let you hurt this forest!' she vowed, escaping the ropes and destroying the traps as he ran.
Yet it only angered the man more.
The wind guided her through paths that were all too convenient for her. Twisting and turning. She looked back only once. Behind her, she saw the man struggling through vines and pulled roots that had not been there before. But still he kept the chase, and the plants could only help so much.
For her legs were just too short.
Soon, he had caught up. He pulled out long blade, grinning like the maniac he was and…
Slice!
A crack of thunder accentuated the woman's story, and the children around her squealed in fear. The adults in the background weren't laughing anymore. Rather, they were now shifting in their seats uncomfortably.
"Maybe… Maybe this story is getting a little too dark?" one of them suggested. She was asking for the children, but the man next to her, her husband perhaps, looked as if he wouldn't mind a nicer story himself.
Weakling.
The old woman gave a kind smile. "A decent dose of fear is healthy for children." She nodded towards the man. "And adults."
The blade swung, but lodged itself into the trunk of a thick tree. Stuck. And as the man pulled and yanked, trying to free the weapon, the girl was whisked away by the wind. Flying effortlessly through the trees until she slowed a fair distance away. And when she did, she found herself in the calming arms of a young man.
Eyes as lusciously green as the foliage of the trees. Skin as tan as the well-worn paths they'd abandoned. Hair as dark as the bark surrounding them. And a smile brighter than the rays of sun flittering through the leaves.
'Are you okay?' he asked the girl. His voice had the bubbly energy of all the forest critters.
Ignoring her wellbeing, she tried to warn the young man about the tricky magician and his plan to hurt the forest. But the young man smiled his sunlit smile, and comfort enveloped the girl.
'It's okay. I know,' he reassured. 'I know everything that goes on here. This is my forest, after all.'
The girl gasped, unable to hold it in.
The spirit of the forest.
It was him! And he'd come to save her!
And save her he did. The spirit hid the girl in the bushes nearby, keeping her out of sight, and waited to confront the man. And when he finally came, the magician was show for what he really was. Wild and angry. Nothing more than a desperate thief.
Whose tricks had been failing for a long time now.
The spirit demanded the man leave the mountain, leave the forest, leave the village, and never return. And if he came back, he would never leave again.
'I'll only leave,' the thief sneered, 'if you leave with me. Otherwise I'll burn this whole forest to the ground! And that little girl too! I know she's here! So unless you want her and this forest to die, you'll come with me!'
Flames erupted around the thief, spreading quickly through the fallen, dried leaves.
The spirit gazed in horror. His forest cried and screamed around him as the flames scorched their home. And he had no choice but to raise his hands…
In defeat.
The thief cackled, and his ropes bound the spirit's hands and body down. The ropes twisted taut against the spirit's luminescent skin, rubbing deep and harsh.
By now, the whole inn had turned and gathered around the old woman, enthralled by the story. Even the staff, who'd heard the story many times before, couldn't help be become enraptured once again by the tale. As they did every time before.
The children gasped and cried out.
"No! You can't give up, spirit!" the young boy, Jean, wailed. He gripped the arm of the freckled child next to him who was too deep into the story to care.
The bread that the girl and boy had fought over now laid forgotten in their laps.
"Fear not, children," the old woman cooed. "For this is not the end, even though it may seem like it."
The girl couldn't believe her eyes. The thief was winning! Soon, the spirit would be nothing more than a trapped soul, caged forever to be a prize shown off for a price.
She couldn't do nothing.
The spirit had saved her, and hadn't she vowed to never let that thief harm the forest?
Gathering a courage she hadn't known she had, the girl searched for something, anything, she could use against the thief. Spotting a large rock half buried in the ground, she started digging. Digging and pulling and digging and pushing. Until finally, the rock was freed.
It was heavy and stubborn and cold, but it was all she had. Anything else would burn. And with the ropes starting to wrap around the spirit's neck, she had no time for anything else.
Bursting from the bush, the little girl threw the rock.
But alas, she was too weak for it to work. The rock hit the ground, just shy of the thief's foot, and sank into the soft ground without even a single roll.
She almost cried.
The thief laughed his evil laugh, tightening the ropes around the spirit's body, causing the spirit to cry out in pain. Such a weak attempt would do nothing to hinder his plan.
That is… until the rock glowed.
In stories, there's always a missing piece. A part no one tells. A part no one knows. For the spirit of the forest was not the only spirit. Because before the forest there was…
The mountain.
A form took shape from the glow of the rock.
Eyes as clear and blue as only the purest of ice. Skin as pale and cold as the freshly fallen snow. Hair as black as the midnight sky. And a glare sharper than the spikes of rock littering the mountain caves.
The thief gaped in fear, for fire could not burn rock. And though the spirit of the mountain did not speak, his actions did all the talking.
With one slender hand wrapped around the thief's neck and a glare frozen enough to cool a volcano to its core, the spirit of the mountain turned the thief to stone.
Do not harm what belongs to the mountain.
And what the girl realized that day, was that the spirit of the forest did not protect the forest. He protected the mountain and all who lived near it. And in return, the spirit of the mountain was the one who protected the forest. For the spirit of the mountain loved his forest, just as much as the spirit of the young man who wandered into that so called barren wasteland all those many, many years ago loved his mountain.
The ropes slackened, and the fire died, leaving behind a ring of lifeless dirt where nothing would ever grow again. The spirit of the forest gulped down fresh breaths, and detangled himself from the ropes. And the spirit of the mountain turned to face them.
Fear grasped hold of the girl's body, and she scooted back towards the bushes. What would the spirit of the mountain do to her?
But he did not notice her. Instead, he headed straight for the spirit of the forest, helping him up and cradling him close. The spirit of the forest laughed but relaxed into the embrace. For they were safe now. And that feeling of safety traveled through the whole forest.
And through the girl.
So when the spirit of the mountain finally did turn to her, she stood proudly.
He thanked her for her help and promised that from then on she would always be welcome and, so long as she was on the mountain, no harm would ever come to her. They both blessed her with a long and plentiful life.
And the little girl with her little family in a little village just at the foot of a very large but loving mountain covered in a very thick but protective foliage of forest would live on to tell this tale to all that she could…
"… because the little girl had learned something that day. Appearances can be deceiving. Love is more powerful than any magic. And kindness is always repaid. To this day, that stone man stands alone in the forest, forever frozen. So be kind to the forest as you travel through, and the mountain will be kind to you."
The old woman sat back with a smile and a sigh, her story finished.
The daze that had settled over the crowd began lifting. The spell of the story was over, and life at the inn resumed. The adults shook their heads, reminding themselves of the real world. The staff got back to work. But the children…
The children chatted excitedly through their yawns as their parents began taking them to bed.
"I want to be like the spirit of the mountain!" Jean proclaimed, waving his hands around as he pretended to turn the other children to stone.
"Well I want to be like the spirit of the forest! So noble and kind!"
"But the spirit of the mountain is strong!"
"I don't care which one I am… just so long as I don't have to go to bed yet…"
"I bet no spirit has a bed time…"
"Maybe we can try and find the man, tomorrow!"
"I bet he's ugly!"
The old woman felt warmth spread through her, despite the rain having cooled the air even long after it had stopped. She wrapped her cloak around herself. Parents and children thanked her for the story as they headed to bed.
"Mikasa."
The old woman, Mikasa, turned to see one of the waitresses with a small child of about 8 years old. His eyes were blue like the ocean and his hair was as sandy colored as their beaches. He held on tightly to a book.
Her grandson.
"Grammie 'Kasa!" the child squealed, and ran into Mikasa's arms.
"Armin," Mikasa greeted, hugging him back. "Are you ready to head back now?"
Armin nodded, slipping out of Mikasa's arms to hold onto her hand, and the two headed back to their small house. A cottage just inside the forest with a small garden out front. A garden with the most delicious fruits and vegetables around and the most beautiful flowers ever seen.
"Did you have fun today?" Mikasa asked as they walked.
Armin nodded again. "Uh huh! Eren taught me how to climb trees today and Levi took me through the caves!"
Mikasa could always count on those two to take care of Armin when she couldn't. Just… maybe not in the safest of ways. But she sighed, happy he had fun. "Well, that is exciting, now isn't it?"
"Did you have fun today?" Armin asked, skipping along and avoiding the muddy puddles.
"I did."
"You told that story again, didn't you? And that's why you were at the inn?"
"That's right, my smart little boy," Mikasa laughed, shaking their intertwined hands.
Armin stopped, pulling on Mikasa's hand. "Grammie 'Kasa? Are you ever going to tell them that you were the little girl? And that Eren and Levi really are real?"
Mikasa smiled. A wide and bright smile. One she could have only learned about from a spirit who spent too much time smiling.
"Maybe someday."