For all of you Americans out there, the Georgia in this story is the name of a country on the east coast of the Black Sea, and not a state. Pull up a map and educate yourselves. (Ouch. So insulting. XD)
The Quidditch Pitch - swimming
Drabble Club - "I love a good story"
Written for the Quidditch League, Chaser 3 for the BallyCastle Bats, round 12.
Task: Crossover, Misc. Category. With Jason and the Aronauts
Prompts:
6. (colour) silver
7. (dialogue) "Who the bloody hell is that?"
13. letter
Word count: 2 977
Rolf Scamander and the Golden Rams
oOo
Rolf breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the salty sea air. He'd always hated apparation and the sickening feeling that followed, but he wasn't about to fly on a broom from England to Georgia.
He pulled out the letter from the inside pocket of his brown muggle blazer and read the name of the city again, just to make sure he was in the right place.
"Excuse me!" he yelled after a passing muggle. The man, who looked around twenty-five, stopped and turned to Rolf, lowering his sunglasses. "Excuse me, am I in the City of Batumi?" The muggle nodded. "Excellent, excellent... and how can I get to..." Rolf glanced down at the letter again. "The Adjara State Museum?"
The man gave some complicated instructions, spoken with a very thick accent, but seeing the confused expression on Rolf's face, ended up just directing him to the taxicabs and told him the street address. The wizard thanked him warmly and when he found himself a cab and sat comfortably in the back, he pulled out the letter again to re-read his colleague's words. What was so important that Luna couldn't just tell him in writing, and why did it necessitate him traveling halfway across the globe?
It wasn't long before the vehicle screeched to a halt in front of a square, white building. Rolf absentmindedly counted the amount of Georgian Lari the driver barked at him and got out of the car. He climbed the steps and entered the museum, looking around curiously, wandering through the empty entrance hall. Just as he was passing between two displays of ancient jewelry and pots, a low male voice rumbled in the silence.
Rolf jumped and turned around, only to come face to face with a tall, mustachioed security guard, who asked him something in Georgian.
"Erm... I'm here to see a Mr. Aleksandre Tsiklauri?" he said hesitantly. "My colleague, Miss Lovegood, said he would be expecting me."
He showed the letter to the guard, whose dark eyes scanned it quickly.
"Come," he said, and Rolf trailed behind him, as the tall man led him across the hall, up a flight of very impressive marble stairs and to a dark brown door, off one of the galleries. They stopped in front of it, and Rolf could hear laughter from inside.
The guard knocked on the door. "There is an Englishman here to see you," he said, opening it wide. Rolf stepped in timidly.
The office they were standing in was mostly empty, if you don't count two large wooden cabinets and a desk in the middle, on top of which a closed laptop took what space was not already covered by papers. Behind the desk was a man of maybe thirty, with black hair and square-rimmed glasses. He wore a smile on his face as he stood up to greet Rolf, but was preceded by the person sitting in a chair on the opposite side – a blonde witch, wearing silver, sparkling robes.
"Rolf, you made it!" Luna said happily. She stood up as well, and the silvery robes glinted in the sunlight, almost like a giant disco ball.
"Er, yes," the young Magizoologist replied. "Luna, what is this about?"
"Come, my boy, sit!" the man with the glasses said heartily, gesturing to the guard to leave them. "We shall tell you everything."
The door slammed behind him and Rolf approached, stuffing Luna's letter back in the inside pocket of his blazer.
"Now, Mr. Scamander," the bespectacled man began as Rolf sat down in the second chair, "have you heard of Jason and the Argonauts?"
The young wizard raised his eyebrows in surprise and threw a sideways look at Luna, who was beaming at him.
"I am familiar with the legend, yes," he said, keeping his eyes on her. "Is this about the Golden Rams again?"
"They're real, Rolf, I told you they are!" Luna exclaimed happily. "I was just looking for them in the wrong place!"
Rolf rolled his eyes and turned back to the man behind the desk. "Look, Mr. Tsiklauri, Luna has... a very active imagination. She's led me on expeditions to look for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Blibbering Humdingers, none of which proved to be real. I assure you, winged, golden-fleeced rams do not exist."
"Have not proved to be real yet," Luna insisted. "And the Golden Rams do exist!"
Rolf opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Mr. Tsiklauri. "Mr. Scamander, I believe this time your colleague's claims have been backed my some hints of proof." Rolf turned to him again. "You see," the man continued, leaning forward on his desk, "muggle archaeologists have recently made some interesting discoveries. What do you know of Medea?"
"Medea?" Rolf echoed, confused. "The witch in the Jason story? She was some sort of Princess that helped him get the Golden Fleece. Fell in love with him, or something. They get married and live happily ever after, right?"
"Ah, but that is only one of the endings," Mr. Tsiklauri said cryptically. "The truth is rarely this clean."
"It's just a legend," Rolf reminded him. "A fairy tale for children. Jason and the Argo didn't really exist, and there is no Golden Fleece."
"I told you he was like this," Luna called beside him airily.
"All is not what it seems in this word, Mr. Scamander," Mr. Tsiklauri said. "If you're willing to open your mind to the possibilities, I will tell you the true story of Medea and Jason."
Rolf's eyes darted between the man and Luna. The witch's large blue eyes sparkled with excitement, the way he'd seen them do when she was convinced an Augurey cry was a Nargle mating call, or when she thought for sure the Billywig manure she found was left by an Umgubular Slashkilter.
Were they about to tell him fire-breathing bulls and giant, moving mountains were real?
"What the hell," he sighed. "I love a good story."
"It is not a happy one," Mr. Tsiklauri said. "In fact, it's very tragic. Medea was indeed a Princess, the daughter of the King of Colchis. When Jason arrived there to claim the Golden Fleece, the King told him that he could only get it if he survived three impossible tasks. Medea, however, fell in love with the young hero and offered to help him, on the condition he would promise to take her with him once he obtained the Fleece and make her his wife. He, of course, agreed."
"He had to plough a field with fire-breathing oxen that he had to yoke himself," Rolf said, remembering the legend. "Medea gave him a balm to protect him from the fire."
"Yes," the bespectacled man nodded. "Then he had to fight an army of skeleton warriors and defeat a dragon. Medea helped him on both counts with her magic and wit. When they returned to Corinth, however, Jason abandoned Medea for the King's daughter, Glauce. Enraged and hurt, Medea killed her and fled back to her homeland of Colchis, where she killed her uncle, who ruled after her father's passing, and took a hold of the kingdom. They did not have the happy marriage the legend speaks of."
"Depends on who is telling the story," Rolf said dismissively.
"Ah, but history writes a story backed by evidence," Mr. Tsiklauri said. "And this particular ending does have something supporting it."
He got up and walked to the big cabinet on the right wall, carefully taking something out. Moving the papers to the side, he placed a rectangular wooden box on the desk and lifted the lid. Rolf leaned in to see its contents – a ripped, burgundy-colored piece of cloth.
"What you see," Mr. Tsiklauri said, "is part of the poisoned dress Medea sent to Glauce in order to murder her. It was found at the bottom of the well she supposedly threw herself into in a fruitless attempt to wash away the poison. The carbon dating and the traces of a potion we found on the fabric matches the tale."
Rolf's eyes snapped up to meet his. "That's impossible."
"Oh, it is very possible," the man said quietly. "Medea was a real person, Mr. Scamander. The niece of Circe herself. She did live, albeit many years ago, and she did betray her father and her kingdom for a man who discarded her like a used tissue. And, according to various sources, when she returned to Colchis... she brought with her the Golden Fleece."
Rolf just stared at the man, completely thunderstruck.
"As you know," Mr. Tsiklauri continued, "Modern-day Georgia stands where Colchis once was."
"You think the Fleece is here?" Rolf interrupted.
"And if the Fleece is real, then the Golden Ram was real too!" Luna chirped.
"Just because Medea may have been real, it doesn't mean Flying Rams were!" Rolf snapped. "It was supposedly made by the Gods!"
"Medea herself was rumored to have been a granddaughter of Helios," the Georgian said. "And he supposedly gave her the golden chariot on which she escaped Corinth."
Rolf gaped at the man. This was lunacy! Greek Gods, Golden Rams, poisoned robes... there was no way this was real.
"Our government has given Miss Lovegood permission to lead an expedition into the Caucasus Mountains, where we believe Medea might have hidden the Fleece, so that no other adventurer could steal it like Jason did," Mr. Tsiklauri said, closing the box and returning it to the cabinet. "She has spoken highly of your academic achievements, and wishes for you to accompany her."
Rolf blushed at the praise and turned to Luna, who gave him a hopeful smile. This was madness. A giant waste of time. But when she looked at him like that, he was never able to refuse her anything (which was how he ended up on all those Crumple-Horned Snorkack hunts).
He sighed. "When do we leave?"
oOo
It had been two weeks since they set out into the mountains, and still they had nothing to show for it. Luna kept wandering seemingly without any direction, and Rolf just followed behind, the tents and all their provisions strapped to his back and enchanted with a Feather-light charm. His companion stopped from time to time to look at the flora and take notes, her dirigible plum earrings swaying with every tilt of her head. Rolf asked himself again and again why he kept going when it was clearly pointless, but Luna was so excited about the prospects of this expedition, he couldn't bring himself to crush that enthusiasm.
"We are completely lost," he said on the 16th day, when the two of them had to stop at the edge of a muck-filled bog.
"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost," Luna recited serenely.
Rolf shot her a perplexed look. If it were anyone else he would question this, but with Luna you just sort of learn to take these things in stride. "So what now, then?" he said. "Do we go back?"
"We can't go back," Luna said. "The Fleece is on the other side."
"How could you possibly know that?"
Luna simply shrugged. "The flower that follows the sun does so even in cloudy days. Come on, we should look for a way across."
Rolf sighed. He knew he couldn't talk her out of it, so he complied and walked by the edge, looking for bridge of some kind.
Luna stooped down and picked up a few pebbles, tossing them in the bog. "It doesn't seem too deep. Maybe we can just walk across?"
"Walk across?" Rolf repeated, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice, but before he could protest, Luna just waded in. "Luna, wait, there could be creatures in there!" he yelled after her.
"I don't think so. It's too muddy to sustain aquatic organisms," Luna replied without even slowing down.
Rolf grimaced at the thought, but took off the supplies and held them above his head as he walked in after her. It took about twenty minutes for him to make it to the other side, where Luna was already waiting, covered from chin to toe with grime, but completely undisturbed by it.
"How can you be sure it's in this particular direction?" he said, putting the supplies on the ground and looking down at his clothes. He was a good deal taller than she was, so the damage was only up to the middle of his chest.
"I'm not sure," Luna replied. "I just have a feeling."
Rolf was about to press the issue, when he caught some sort of movement with the corner of his eye. Squinting, he leaned forward and tried to make out the form, which seemed to wave at him from a small island in the middle of the bog.
"Who the bloody hell is that?" he said. Luna turned to see what he was staring at.
"It looks like a woman," she said.
"Yoo-hoo! Hello there!" the figure yelled. "I seem to have gotten myself in a bit of a sticky situation. Think you can help me out?"
"Hello!" Luna yelled back and waved. "What can we do for you today?"
The woman on the island laughed. "You can help me out of this bog, for starters. I'm an entomologist and just collected some marvelous larvae samples. Thing is, my little boat here blew a fuse; the bog is too deep for me to walk through, and the water consistency would make swimming impossible. Your companion there seems like a strong fellow. Would he be willing to give me a hand?"
"Of course! He'll be right there!" Luna shouted, then turned to look at Rolf expectantly.
He held back his sigh. Even if he didn't want to help on his own, he knew he wouldn't be able to say no to Luna. Rolling up his sleeves, Rolf waded back into the stinky, muck-covered water. He reached the short black-haired woman on the island and helped her sit on his shoulders. The journey back to shore was difficult, but he made it.
"Thank you ever so much," the entomologist said, climbing down from his back. "I just don't know what I would've done without you. What brings you folks so deep into the mountains?"
"We are looking for a herd of flying rams and a fleece that is as yellow as gold. Have you seen it?" Luna said and Rolf almost facepalmed. Who just says something this outlandish to a stranger?
"I don't know about any yellow fleeces, but I did see a ram skitter by over in that direction." The woman pointed straight ahead. "I thought it was odd, Mountain Rams are usually found in North America."
Rolf and Luna both turned their heads in that direction.
"Thank you very—" he started to say, but when he turned back to the spot the woman stood only a second ago, she was gone. "Where did she go!?" he exclaimed, looking around frantically.
"I think she left," Luna said.
"No, I mean... was she a witch? Did she disapparate?"
Luna shrugged. "I didn't see. Come on, we have to find that ram." She took out her wand and cleaned both of them with a single wave, then continued into the forest, not even bothering to look over her shoulder to make sure he was coming. Though why would she need to? No matter how crazy her ideas were, he always did.
Rolf picked the luggage up hastily and followed. Luna just seemed to know where they needed to go, because she walked without hesitation and he had to jog to keep up. It wasn't too long before she gave out an excited shriek and broke into a run. Rolf tried to catch up, but it was hard with the provisions swaying from his shoulders and catching on the foliage. After a few minutes of a mad dash through the wilderness, they came across a clearing.
Rolf was stunned into a stupor.
About forty sheep were flying above them, their large, yellow wings glinting in the sunlight. Some were grazing in the grass, and there was Luna, right in the middle of the clearing. She pulled something out of the small fanny pack around her waist and offered it to the sheep. They approached her without fear and ate whatever she tempted them with right from her palm. A shadow passed over Rolf, and when he looked up, he could see a golden spot up in the highest tree.
"I can't believe this..." he muttered under his breath. It was real. It was all real.
"I told you they existed!" Luna yelled happily, once again drawing his attention.
"But how..." he said, dropping the supplies and taking a few steps forward. "How did you know they were here?"
"I didn't," Luna replied, as the rams huddled around her. "I told you, I just had a feeling. The legend said the Golden Fleece could make any land prosper and any soil fertile. On the way here we kept encountering blooming Rhododendron Caucasicum and other plants that only bloom in the winter, or once a year. I figured it might've been because of the Fleece's magic."
"The flower that follows the sun does so even in cloudy days," Rolf whispered.
"I knew if anyone would believe me and come on this expedition, it would be you." Luna continued gratefully. "We did it, Rolf! We found the Golden Rams!"
She laughed and the sound echoed in the meadow like a copper bell. Rolf looked at her, happy and smiling, surrounded by all these furry yellow creatures, the sun catching in her hair, and a thought suddenly occurred to him.
He was in love.