The 8BTFreek is back in the fan-fiction world; though under the new name of Yoru no Grim. If you are unfamiliar with his works, please visit his profile for many great stories.
Now to commence with an unusual one-shot, dedicated to him. Its short, but I have summer classes so get over it.
Smithy
Sol sat against the mountains west of the small town of Biblin, its warm embrace fading with the encroaching night. Luna was rising into dominance in the east, its eternal glow a gentle reprieve from the sun's harsh light. It was during this wondrous period of twilight that the small shops of Biblin began closing their doors, the artisans and merchants both ending their day.
In the more open area of the market, a man of particular import was closing down his own shop, though it only consisted of a large tattered rug strewn with various forged implements. Daggers, swords, picks, and shovels made up only part of the assortment. Each was a master work, a signature of an artisan that knew his craft.
Worn rough hands gathered together the wares, working tenderly to pack them together so they could be held within the rug. He then rolled the rug around his works, taking great care to tie the rug tight around them with three short ropes.
Sighing softly, the man hoisted his rug up upon his shoulders, walking down the now silent street toward the inn. He allowed himself one quiet glance at the town before he entered, a silent resolve forming. The next day he would leave.
--
The town of Vault held little promise for business, the man quickly found when he opened his ship. However, the town still revived pleasant memories of a journey long past yet never completely forgotten.
The first leg of his journey had truly begun here, the trials of his quest first testing him. It was this town that assured him he could survive the world outside Vale. It was this town that had fortified him, giving him the resilience to cross the world with his friends on their quest.
Perhaps it was destiny that called him so close to his home of Vale, or a yearning for the familiar warmth of family and friends. Answers were rarely easy to find, as he had discovered on his own adventure. Yet those emotions begged to be fulfilled, even if he could not ascertain their origin.
Twilight again came upon him as he was buried within hi thoughts. Reluctantly the man set to work, again packing up his creations in the tattered rug and again walking to the inn. Before he entered this time he allowed himself a pause, making a promise. This was the final part of his journey, tomorrow he would finally return home
--
Familiar sights greeted the man as he entered his old home, the slight variances molded over in his eyes. He wondered the streets solemnly, feeling the gaze of familiar faces that strained to recognize his own.
A person caught the man's attention as he reached the center of town, causing him to rush forward, forgetting his bundle. A friendly face turned to him, lit with joy.
"Welcome back, Garet," the familiar man's voice echoed like a distant memory to the man who had been gone for so long.
"I'm back," Garet cried, finally returned from his own journey.
--
On a different note, though Freek is back on the net, there seem to be few authors left from back when I first began writing. Heck, even I technically left. Dracobolt and Lord Cynic are still here, but so many authors are gone for now on their own journeys in life. Many of the big names (Midnight C, Triad Orion, Joker's Specter, etc.) haven't made any updates in ages. Times might be changing even in this small community of fan-fiction writers.
On a less serious note though, I'm about to read Dracobolt's latest one-shot, Mia in Ponyland. I'm not sure what spawned this story and not sure I want to know, but it promises to be funny.