Chrono Trigger
The Dream Stone; A new objective brings our group face to face with a self-proclaimed prophet…
There was an awkward silence as Melchior glanced over the shattered remains of the Masamune. There seemed to be something that groaned within him. He almost seemed sorrowful at the fact that the sword had broken. After a moment or two he looked up at them with a look of great despair before saying, "I am sorry; I cannot help you. Without the proper materials I cannot restore the sword."
Only two days have passed since they stood at the top of a mountain after defeating what had been the guardian of the Masamune. Two days ago they nervously followed the dim form of two children into a cave. It was then that they approached the Masamune and a bright light blinded them momentarily. When they were able to see again all they saw was the hilt of the sword, disembodied from the blade they were holding.
"So it wasn't the sword then." Crono said with great disappointment.
The two children wore melancholy expressions on their faces as if they could sense and sympathize with their distress. One of the children, who referred to himself as Mune before, (although no man alive could ever tell the difference between the two) took the hilt in hand and offered it to Crono. "Hey, don't be so sad, mister! It is the Masamune! It's just broken. You have to fix it is all."
"I can take it to anyone and they can fix it?" Crono asked, his hope rapidly returning.
Unceremoniously and quite contrary to their kindness earlier, they burst out into derisive laughter, "Are you serious? Oh yeah, anyone could fix a holy relic!"
"Shut up." Crono sighed grumpily as he held the hilt. The two stopped laughing immediately and watched him with great earnest, as if they waited for him to spot something. Meanwhile, Crono did not notice them as he turned the sword over and over again in one hand. He was in the midst of reflecting on his high hopes when he saw a complete sword and how much trouble they experienced for coming up the mountain. At that point, he spotted something very odd and his hope returned. He looked towards the twins and they grinned, emphasizing the point that was rapidly growing in Crono's head.
"There's something written on the hilt!"
Marle, Lucca, and Robo crowded around the sword, each one peering down at the writing. He held it in the sunlight for the sake of visibility. They were runes. Very odd runes that were not in a recognizable language. They groaned in despair while the two twins gave each other incredulous looks. They looked at the party and said with surprise, "You guys don't know what the writing says?"
"No, we don't." Crono leaned against the cavern wall and slid down to the ground. "We don't even know how to find out."
"What do we do now?" Lucca rubbed her face, "I'm no linguist!"
"We could take it to my father and ask him if there is anyone who can translate." Marle ventured.
"When should we ask? Before or after he executes us?" Lucca's slightly agitated tone earned a raspberry from Marle before she flumped against the cavern wall.
"I am not equipped with the proper translating program, and even then, if we went back to the future, the language might be completely dead and forgotten." Robo stood pensively as he tried the hardest out of everyone to arrive to a conclusion.
The twins only laughed and that earned a fierce look from everyone, "What's so funny?" Marle asked pointedly.
"We know what it means!"
The group collectively pounced on the two children, who, for the first time, seemed astounded and surprised. They squirmed under the collective weight, still weak from the battle. The sunlight from the hole in the ceiling went into their eyes and they could only see their visitors as black silhouettes. "Hey! Come on! Get off! Man! One of you weighs a ton!" The other child smiled sardonically despite his position. He said with a laugh, "Yeah, Marle, get off already." That earned an indignant punch to the arm which silenced him immediately.
"What does it mean? Tell us! Come on now!"
"All you had to do was ask! We are your servants!"
They instantly rose and the two children dusted themselves off while giving them angry glares. "You guys defeated us in battle. We are the entities of the Masamune. The sword is holy because a prophet consecrated it to drive away evil. We knew that you were righteous enough to approach the sword, but we were not sure if you were strong enough to wield it. That is why we attacked you. The last man who claimed the sword was neither strong nor righteous enough to wield it, and that is why it broke. It was because we failed to test him that he wielded the sword unworthily."
"Do you mean the knight, Cyrus?"
"The one and the same."
"So what does the sword say?"
"Gamiton mo ni agud ang makakatarung makatindog sa kadalum. Ipanumdum n'yo, ginhimo ang espada paagi sa kamot sang propeta sang kabuhi, Melchoir."
Crono rolled his eyes, "In something we can understand, please."
The twins tittered before reading the sword, "Use this sword to uphold the righteous in times of darkness. Know ye, it has been made by the hand of the prophet of life, Melchoir."
Crono paced back and forth, pondering on the familiar name. When he remembered who the name belonged to he almost hit himself for being so forgetful. As soon as he was about to manifest this action by slapping his head, he stopped himself and did it for a completely different reason. "No, that can't be possible." Crono muttered under his breath, "It must be some great coincidence. I bet there are plenty of people named…"
Marle giggled, saying with utter simplicity, "Well, is it also coincidence that he's a blacksmith as well?"
Crono looked at her and it seemed as if he were struck by a lightning bolt. It seemed fairly obvious. Almost too obvious.
He looked to Lucca who shrugged, non-verbally communicating her willingness to visit the old hermit. In all honesty, Crono was curious. Even if Melchoir of Medina wasn't the blacksmith, then at least he could give them an idea about how powerful the sword was. He mulled this over in his head and suddenly felt a very good feeling about the whole affair. He nodded in agreement. "Alright then!" He raised a fist in the air, "Off to the future…er, the present!"
"Well, it is the past to me." Robo said with what seemed to be an attempt at a humorous tone.
"Whatever." Crono said lamely.
As they turned to walk out the twins gave them odd glances. "What are you doing?"
Lucca turned about and said sarcastically, "We're staying. We are going to make our home here, live as hermits, and die. What do you think we are doing?"
"We think you are taking the long way out."
"It'll be faster going down than traveling up." Robo said with the purpose of sounding reassuring.
"I wouldn't say that," one of the pair said coyly, "we can get you out of here in no time at all. But you have to promise us you won't freak out."
"Why would we freak out?" Crono asked.
As if they have done it to answer his question (or with the purpose of heightening their nerves so their reaction would be even more surprising), they caused a strong gust of wind to erupt through the cave. Just as they had felt before, their clothes snagged around their bodies and they rolled on the ground, desperately grabbing for anything they could. It felt as if they were being sucked out of the cave through the hallow in the ceiling. Their grip weakened and within a blank of an eye they were flying like birds over the mountain range. It took Crono a second, but he suddenly remembered his fear of heights and felt his breath leave him. Meanwhile, Marle shrieked as she saw their very own horses, floating behind them. Masa and Mune, as if they were on solid ground, stood erect and laughed. The poor horses were beside themselves, screaming and kicking their legs fiercely.
The ground speedily met them by when they landed it was not fast or rough. They touched down lightly. Their flight was so quick and sudden that they could not even remember the beautiful view that met them. Had they calmed themselves they could have taken in a view of grandeur: the placid bodies of water, the winding rivers and valleys, the snow filled peaks of distant mountains…Instead, Crono saw fit to smack Masa and Mune on the back of their heads. They were on the ground and ready to head back to their time.
Now they were standing in front of the old man who inadvertently pronounced his sanctity. Crono had always been taught by his mother to read scriptures, to be devout and kind, and that prophets were the pinnacle of what a person may become. It was hard to believe that as he looked over this frail man who seemed to burn within as he cradled the sword in his arms.
"How is it that your name is on the sword?" Lucca asked the question that Crono could not form.
He sighed deeply and looked at them square in the eye, "It is a long story, and a story that I do not enjoy telling."
"Have you traveled through time? What happened?" Marle pressed on.
Melchior lightly slapped the table and he said firmly yet politely, "I do not wish to recall it. It is beyond me now. Even my own creation is in shambles."
"Can you at least talk about the sword?" Robo said softly. Robo was far more effective in negotiations. Already his sensors and an endless database of possible tones and responses appeared like magic and poured from his lips (if he had any, that is) fluidly.
"Yes, I can." Melchoir replied. He rose from the chair with a grunt and walked around the table towards his guests. "Unfortunately, I still stand true to my convictions. The sword is irreparable. This sword may be made again, oh yes, with different materials such as steel, but it will only be as any other sword."
"Why is that?" Crono asked.
"If there be any among you who are dubious as to the ways of miracles, I understand your skepticism, but you will not mock me. The sword is not strong because of the materials that make it, but rather the symbolism of the materials."
"How is that possible?" Lucca asked, herself being more on the skeptical side than anyone else. After all, she was a lady of science and all her knowledge of the world cried out against everything Melchoir had mentioned. The strength of the material doesn't matter? Ludicrous! At least, that was what she felt.
Melchoir gave her a look and her doubtful thoughts took leave of her mind. It almost seemed as if he could read her mind and he said, "God works in miracles. His power is manifest by simple means, much like the magic that each of you use."
"Wait, how do you know we use magic?" Crono ventured, stepping forward in alarm.
Melchoir smiled proudly, seemingly proud that an old man as frail as he could still cause uneasiness in the youth, "That day you tested your current sword against you old one told me volumes about who you are and where you came from. Tell me, have you come from Zeal?"
A couple of eyes rose, "Zeal? Where is that?"
The man blushed and cleared his throat, "No, sorry, I was mistaken. I guess I am not certain as to where you obtained your powers, but I do know that you have them. I knew since that day that I would see you again. I always seem to find myself in situations where it seems something odd is going to happen." He chuckled mirthlessly as he had a seat once again directly in front of the group. "As I was saying, your magic relies on the laws of nature. Your magic will only be as powerful as you train it to be. You do have a limit, although I know that most young people despise admitting to it. However, with God, his knowledge of nature is so precise that there is no limit to what he can do. If he wanted to make an unbreakable sword of dirt, he would cause it to be done through the hands of his prophets. However, the sword is a symbol of righteousness, and he commanded that certain materials be used."
"What are they?"
"I will not go into detail concerning the meaning of the materials save for one; it calls for the light that gives life, the blessing of a prophet, a will as fierce as fire, and the foundation of the earth, which is the ingredient we need."
"What does it mean?"
"There was a stone that was common in the beginning of time. The earth had come into being and its soil was barren. Liquid flame scorched the earth and its heat was so intense it created a material unlike any other. Once the fires dimmed and oceans formed, causing mountains and valleys to come into being, this same material made the soil fertile. Over eons the soil yielded plants and trees, which in turn allowed life to inhabit this world. The mineral, or stone, began to dissolve, becoming the life of the soil, and it eventually fades completely. Therefore, quite literally, this stone is the foundation of the world, from which all life had started. Further beyond that, the stone symbolizes the true foundation of this world; the creator who perpetuated the creation this world; the creator of this world who shall die on another."
As Melchoir spoke, Lucca had the strangest sense of déjà vu. She remembered feeling uneasy about her skepticism. She remembered wanting to scoff at another just as she wanted to do to Melchoir, but who was it? Needless to say, she felt that this conversation was ridiculous and she wished to end it.
"So, where can we find this material?"
"It no longer exists." He said, hanging his head as if those very words were poison to him.
"If we find it, would you be able to repair it?" Lucca asked, still fighting for a reason to leave.
"Only if the Lord sees fit, and if your reason for restoring such a powerful weapon is pure."
"In that case, I think we know where we can find it."
They talked for a while longer. They spoke about the material itself; they spoke about its appearance, its durability, its abundance and when Melchoir believed it completely diminished from the earth. This only brought up the desire to ask more questions. It was maddening how knowledgeable Melchoir was concerning a material that had been gone since pre-historical times. When they would ask him more concerning his knowledge he would only state that he had no desire to repeat himself. He only said that they could either believe him or not. Finally, after many elbow jabs from Lucca, they finally left the home.
The worst had come true. During his entire visit with Melchoir, Crono's thoughts constantly turned to his friend and his abandoned home. He tried his best to hold his emotions and bear them well, but he felt dead inside. When they came to this time they found themselves bursting from the same cabinets not to find a single soul living in Alwyn's home. It was strange; the house was clean and free of dust, but all pictures were removed and it seemed as if nobody had lived there for the space of some time.
Crono hoped desperately that Alwyn had left on business. He hoped that he simply moved. He also hoped that when he would return from Melchoir's Alwyn would be at home; ready to greet them with a smile and a warm handshake. Crono's heart fell as he saw the home from a distance. It was dark and not a single window was lighted. He felt a heavy hand clamp his shoulder.
"I am certain that he is only away on business. Do not worry, Crono." Robo said this with a simple charm and optimism to it. It truly did help to hear those words.
They reached the portal and left this time, but not before Crono took another surrounding look and reverently bowed his head. "Alwyn, I hope you are alive."
Author's note: I'm not too pleased with this chapter. I think the next few chapters will be a lot of fun, because I have been looking forward to writting them. I already have a few things planned. So, I will make a solemn promise: THE STORY WILL BE MORE INTERESTING AND FUN TO READ! I PROMISE:-) I should also read my story from beginning to end. That would refresh my memory of everything and give me direction. There are some things I haven't addressed yet and I want to make sure you guys know that I haven't forgotten them! 1) Why Crono hates his father. 2) What did Crono say to Toma. I know this must sound very silly of me, but if I forgot any details, let me know! One of these days, I'm going to have to go through this thing with a fine-toothed comb and fix everything. sigh Hope you enjoy the read!