Yuletide Songs
Disclaimer: If I owned Dragonlance, this would be published in a book. I would not be putting it up here. Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman own DL. Kay?
Chapter One
"Shalafi."
Dalamar's voice was very soft, very precise, with a slight Silvanesti accent. It held a trace of fear- more than a trace, Raistlin noticed. His apprentice sounded terrified, and Raistlin reveled in his power to frighten even the normally cool, collected elf.
"Yes, apprentice?" the archmagus rasped.
The elf cleared his throat. "Shalafi, I- there's a party, you see, at the Conclave. A Yuletide party. And- could I go? With Jenna? I'll make sure to brew some tea for you first, and it won't be hard for you to just heat it up whenever you need some. Or you could come to the party, too, Shalafi-" Dalamar stopped, wincing at his Shalafi's wheezing laugh.
"Oh, I could go, could I? And just what, apprentice, would I do at-" Raistlin put enough scorn to blot out the sky into his next words- "a party?" His bitter laugh quickly turned into a hacking cough, and Dalamar gave him a handkerchief, saying:
"You could dance, Shalafi."
Raistlin was hysterical now, tears of pain running down his face, and laughing all the while at the absurd image his mind conjured up of him, Raistlin Majere, dancing one of the silly waltzes that his twin had tried to teach him in their younger days.
"Shalafi?"
"No, apprentice. You will stay here."
"Very well, Shalafi," Dalamar murmured, holding back tears of his own. The party would have been an escape from the dreary tower and his drearier Shalafi, if only for a short time. An escape. Dalamar loved what his Shalafi taught him and even, in a way, his Shalafi, but he was always scared, scared of what the Master of Past and Present could do to Dal if he chose. Raistlin's handprint still bled beneath the elf's robes.
"You are dismissed," Raistlin hissed.
"That rhymed, Shalafi! 'You are dismissed, Raistlin hissed'! Oh, wow!"
"What the heck?!"
"Sorry, Shalafi. Nothing. What I meant was, I have a letter for you. From Lady Crysania."
"Leave it on the table, then."
Dalamar set the letter down gently and slipped out of the room with the grace possessed by all elves. His Shalafi picked up the letter and broke the seal.
Dear Raistlin,
I'm quite sorry to ask this at such late notice, but I was wondering if you would care to spend this Yuletide with me? I fear you will be lonely, alone in the Tower, as I'm sure that your apprentice will be at the Conclave's party. I, too, would greatly appreciate some company.
Yours, Crysania
Raistlin carelessly threw the letter into the fire.
A/N: Maybe it's a little lame, but it is the first fanfiction I've done. If you have the time, I'd really appreciate it if you would review and tell me how I did.
Also, does anyone know how to put italics in? If so, would you please tell me? Thank you!
BTW, some rather amusing things came up on my spell checker for the different names:
Raistlin: Waistline, Ritalin
Dalamar: Calamari
Shalafi: Salami
Can't you just picture it?
"Salami."
Calamari's voice was very soft, very precise, with a slight Silvanesti accent. It held a trace of fear- more than a trace, Ritalin noticed.
Disclaimer: If I owned Dragonlance, this would be published in a book. I would not be putting it up here. Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman own DL. Kay?
Chapter One
"Shalafi."
Dalamar's voice was very soft, very precise, with a slight Silvanesti accent. It held a trace of fear- more than a trace, Raistlin noticed. His apprentice sounded terrified, and Raistlin reveled in his power to frighten even the normally cool, collected elf.
"Yes, apprentice?" the archmagus rasped.
The elf cleared his throat. "Shalafi, I- there's a party, you see, at the Conclave. A Yuletide party. And- could I go? With Jenna? I'll make sure to brew some tea for you first, and it won't be hard for you to just heat it up whenever you need some. Or you could come to the party, too, Shalafi-" Dalamar stopped, wincing at his Shalafi's wheezing laugh.
"Oh, I could go, could I? And just what, apprentice, would I do at-" Raistlin put enough scorn to blot out the sky into his next words- "a party?" His bitter laugh quickly turned into a hacking cough, and Dalamar gave him a handkerchief, saying:
"You could dance, Shalafi."
Raistlin was hysterical now, tears of pain running down his face, and laughing all the while at the absurd image his mind conjured up of him, Raistlin Majere, dancing one of the silly waltzes that his twin had tried to teach him in their younger days.
"Shalafi?"
"No, apprentice. You will stay here."
"Very well, Shalafi," Dalamar murmured, holding back tears of his own. The party would have been an escape from the dreary tower and his drearier Shalafi, if only for a short time. An escape. Dalamar loved what his Shalafi taught him and even, in a way, his Shalafi, but he was always scared, scared of what the Master of Past and Present could do to Dal if he chose. Raistlin's handprint still bled beneath the elf's robes.
"You are dismissed," Raistlin hissed.
"That rhymed, Shalafi! 'You are dismissed, Raistlin hissed'! Oh, wow!"
"What the heck?!"
"Sorry, Shalafi. Nothing. What I meant was, I have a letter for you. From Lady Crysania."
"Leave it on the table, then."
Dalamar set the letter down gently and slipped out of the room with the grace possessed by all elves. His Shalafi picked up the letter and broke the seal.
Dear Raistlin,
I'm quite sorry to ask this at such late notice, but I was wondering if you would care to spend this Yuletide with me? I fear you will be lonely, alone in the Tower, as I'm sure that your apprentice will be at the Conclave's party. I, too, would greatly appreciate some company.
Yours, Crysania
Raistlin carelessly threw the letter into the fire.
A/N: Maybe it's a little lame, but it is the first fanfiction I've done. If you have the time, I'd really appreciate it if you would review and tell me how I did.
Also, does anyone know how to put italics in? If so, would you please tell me? Thank you!
BTW, some rather amusing things came up on my spell checker for the different names:
Raistlin: Waistline, Ritalin
Dalamar: Calamari
Shalafi: Salami
Can't you just picture it?
"Salami."
Calamari's voice was very soft, very precise, with a slight Silvanesti accent. It held a trace of fear- more than a trace, Ritalin noticed.