A/N: According to my poll, 53% of the voters hate fanfics that revolve around OCs, but I still went ahead and posted this here even though I don't expect many readers. So if you're one of those people, please don't flame, just kindly hit the back button and read something else (like my other story 'Prisoner'). This is a short story and the chapters won't be that long either. And if you do happen to read and like this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

*~painting a picture~*

Food, family, and a place to sleep. That is what Lenamar needed. Being a blacksmith's son didn't bring a lot of money, so, since the moment he could think on his own, learned not to ask for much. But he was happy. His mom loved him, and his dad loved him, even the town's people couldn't help but to love the adorable little boy of five and his eyes.

Such a bright and vivid blue has never been seen on anyone but on him and his father, who also shared the same name. After seeing such a color, it will stay imprinted in the mind forever. And it was those eyes that began a change in his life.

A traveling artisan passed through the town, looking for an object to paint. Lenamar was playing by a creek when the man went by, stumbled, and dropped a small parcel without noticing. Out of curiosity, Lenamar ran up to whatever was wrapped in the rag and peered inside. It was a glowing green essence the he immediately wanted to keep and just look at it, be he knew better and so, a little reluctantly, called out to the man. "Mister, you dropped this.

The man turned to find exactly what he wanted to paint; an ordinary, even poor, six-year-old boy with wondrous eyes, waving the equally wondrous object in the air. The first word that popped into his head, the perfect name for the painting, was innocence. Quickly, he ran to him and asked, "Young man, what is you name?"

"Lenamar." He said with a smile.

"That's an odd name."

"My mommy says it's special."

The man couldn't hold back a grin. He kneeled down before him at eye level. "Listen, Lenamar, what would you say if I painted a picture of you?"

At this, Lenamar hesitated before answering. "I'm not really supposed to talk to strangers."

"You're right!" The man exclaimed. "I'll introduce myself then. I am Alfred Horden, an artisan." He noticed the way the boy held the green object close and added, "if you let me paint you, I'll let you keep that."

Lenamar's eyes widened at the proposition. "Ok, but if it doesn't take too long."

"Not at all." Alfred assured him. He had Lenamar sit on a rock, holding the glowing object and as he pained, he became sure that the boy was meant to have it. Once he was done, he patted Lenamar on the head and watched him run off to his home. Content with the finished painting, he rolled it up carefully and put it away, decided that this was one he would never sell.