Dear lawyers and authors,
I would like to take this time to mention that I do not own Dragonlance, nor do I claim to do so. I ask you to please not sue me, as I am saving money at the moment for something rather important and also do not really feel like being sued just now, thank you all the same.
Very sincerely, Jishoshojo
Thanks to Jezrael the Jealous (pretty name!), jedismuggler, RavenKitty, Cami, and Ironi Numair for reviewing, there are notes for you guys down at the bottom.
Chapter Two
//Snowflakes are pretty things,// Raistlin thought. //One of the few things that are not ruined in my eyes, for winter is all that these hourglasses see. And snow is the only beauty I find in it. //
It was late that same night. Dalamar had retreated to his room- crying, Raistlin suspected. Weak elf.
Raistlin had been staring out the window for the past half hour. Happy little children singing Yuletide songs were frolicking in towns outside the Shoikan Grove, he knew, and he could almost imagine that he heard their sweet, chirpy voices, calling, "Raistlin. Raistlin Majere."
With a jolt, he realized that there /was/ a child calling his name- and she was floating right next to him.
Floating.
"It is late, Raistlin," the girl murmured. "Midnight. And it's Yuletide Eve."
"Wha-" Raistlin would have said something slightly more dignified if he could have thought of anything; however, 'wha-' was all that came to mind.
The little girl smiled softly, kindly, a smile that seemed too wise for her years- but then, Raistlin realized, anyone who suddenly appeared in his chambers was hardly an ordinary person.
"Come with me, Raistlin Majere. Come, take my hand, and we will walk through the Yuletides of your past. Come." The girl extended a small hand. "I am called Nikora. Come with me now; I will show you things you have seen, and yet never truly seen."
Raistlin shivered. He was not frightened of the child, with her sweet young face- young, he noted, this girl appeared young- but he was somehow scared of what she was to show him. He did not take her hand.
"Are you afraid, Archmagus?"
//Yes, little one,// Raistlin thought. //You've no idea.//
Aloud- but not loudly- he hissed, "I fear no one, a child least of all. It is they who should fear me. . . all of them. . . they /do/ fear me; they do!"
Sadness shadowed the girl's blue eyes. "This is why you must come, why I had to go. Do not wish for power of fear, for you will one day fear yourself."
Again, she reached out for his hand, and though he tried to evade her, she caught it. A pale, misty substance swirled around the two. Raistlin coughed, and by the time he wiped the blood from his mouth, the mist had cleared away, and he was in his childhood home in Solace.
He was quite startled when he noticed himself sitting on the bed.
/We will walk through the Yuletides of your past./
Now Raistlin understood Nikora's words. He was in his own past. Odd that it should rattle him now, when he had traveled through time so much.
He watched the little Raistlin look up.
"Hello, Caramon."
"G'morning, Raist. Merry Yuletide! D'you think Mama maybe remembered this year?"
"No," Little Raistlin said harshly.
"Gilon will have, though," came the voice of Kitiara, about twelve years old. "Bet there are presents for you out there." With her thumb, the twins' sister motioned towards the next room.
Caramon grinned and grabbed his smaller brother's hand. "C'mon, Raist! Presents!"
Little Raistlin was pretty much dragged out of the room he shared with Caramon and into the living room, where, as Kit had predicted, lay seven gifts. The stronger of the boys jumped on the pile and pulled out the two for him- one from Gilon, one from his sister.
He also shoved three at Little Raistlin. "These're yours, Raist."
The small boy took the gifts rather unenthusiastically, slowly unwrapping them, looking tired. Caramon happily tore his open and hugged his father, then Kit, who made a big deal out of pushing him away and looking tough.
He then turned to his brother, who was sitting quietly next to his presents. "D'you like it, Raist? It's a little silly, I guess, but I made it myself, an' Sturm's mama let me have the ribbons, an' I worked real hard on the star-"
"It" was a stick. Presumably Caramon had intended it to be a magic wand, going by the roughly hacked star on the top. The boy had decorated it with pink and yellow ribbons, too. Though there were still a couple of leaves on the stick, it wasn't all that bad for a five year old.
"Mages don't use /wands/, idiot!" Amazing how Raistlin could snarl even when he was five. "They have staffs."
His brother shrugged, looking guilty. "I guess wands are just like real little staffs, though, huh, Raist?"
"No."
"Sorry, Raist."
The archmagus, watching silently and unnoticed, did not remember that particular Yuletide. He could tell, though, that Little Raistlin had enjoyed his power over his brother- he had always loved that power. Before he knew of his talent for magic, it had been the only power he had.
Lost in thought, he did not see the mist come down to carry him and Nikora away, but he noticed it fading. This time, he was near the Inn of the Last Home, Caramon greeting Sturm Brightblade while Little Raistlin read in the snow underneath the tree supporting the inn. The twins looked to be about ten. Or, more, Caramon looked twelve and Little Raistlin looked eight- the mage assumed, therefore, that they were ten.
"Here, Caramon. . . and Raistlin." The older boy added the weaker child's name only as an afterthought. "I have brought you these." The Master of Past and Present noticed vaguely that Sturm had the same precise way of speaking as Dalamar.
Sturm handed both the twins packages of the same size and shape. They turned out to be small wooden shields- the sort of thing that Caramon adored and Raistlin had always thought stupid.
"Gee, thanks, Sturm! Wow!"
"......."
"You are welcome," Sturm murmured. Then, in what was obviously just a polite attempt to draw Little Raistlin into the conversation, he asked, "What's that you're reading?"
Raistlin hated that patronizing tone.
"A book."
"What sorta book, Raist?" Caramon surely thought he was being an enormous help by clarifying the situation for his brother.
"Spellbook."
"Lemme see."
Raistlin held the book up, and Caramon leaned over to look:
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Inwardly, Raistlin smiled at Caramon's astonished gaze. The would-be mage couldn't read the words any better than a two-week-old gully dwarf embryo could have. He had simply pulled the book off the shelf along with many others that he had sneaked out of Master Theobald's library, and had opened the book simply to see if he could decipher it.
"And you can really read that, Raist?"
"Of course, brother."
"Show me a spell!"
"I think. . ." Sturm began, wary as ever of magic. Caramon cuffed him lightly in the shoulder, an unspoken request to lighten up. Sturm then excused himself politely, but the onlooking mage noticed that he stopped a little way away and looked back, interested despite his loathing for magic.
Little Raistlin selected a pine needle from the ground and held it up. He mumbled some arcane sounding words. The pine needle disappeared, and Caramon watched, spellbound.
As the mist once again came down upon Raistlin and Nikora, something registered in the back of the mage's mind- //Again, power. Always power. But that is all I have ever had. Magic and manipulation.//
Nikora's voice pierced the mist in a much sharper tone than she had used thus far:
"Think, Raistlin Majere, of what you have seen. I did not heed the spirits when I was shown my faults, and you see me now- a spirit. /Listen to me,/ Raistlin. And await the other two."
He found himself back in his room. Nikora was gone.
Raistlin shivered. Dreams. He sat by the window again, but he could not help wondering if it had been real, and if so, who were "the other two"?
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter.
Jezrael the Jealous: Yes, the rhyming thing was probably confusing; it's an inside joke. Sorry about that.
Jedismuggler: Thanks! You may be right about Dal, it just worked to keep the story going. ^_^
RavenKitty: Awww, so sweet. thank you!!!
Camisole: Vermont? Luckyluckylucky! I bet it was really pretty, with the leaves changing color. LUCKY! And I'll get Fallen Sun from the library tonight, yay!
Ironi Numair: Kay, someone did get the rhyme thing. Cool! ^_^ I really love your writing, so I'll read your TP Christmas Carol as soon as I have the chance!
I would like to take this time to mention that I do not own Dragonlance, nor do I claim to do so. I ask you to please not sue me, as I am saving money at the moment for something rather important and also do not really feel like being sued just now, thank you all the same.
Very sincerely, Jishoshojo
Thanks to Jezrael the Jealous (pretty name!), jedismuggler, RavenKitty, Cami, and Ironi Numair for reviewing, there are notes for you guys down at the bottom.
Chapter Two
//Snowflakes are pretty things,// Raistlin thought. //One of the few things that are not ruined in my eyes, for winter is all that these hourglasses see. And snow is the only beauty I find in it. //
It was late that same night. Dalamar had retreated to his room- crying, Raistlin suspected. Weak elf.
Raistlin had been staring out the window for the past half hour. Happy little children singing Yuletide songs were frolicking in towns outside the Shoikan Grove, he knew, and he could almost imagine that he heard their sweet, chirpy voices, calling, "Raistlin. Raistlin Majere."
With a jolt, he realized that there /was/ a child calling his name- and she was floating right next to him.
Floating.
"It is late, Raistlin," the girl murmured. "Midnight. And it's Yuletide Eve."
"Wha-" Raistlin would have said something slightly more dignified if he could have thought of anything; however, 'wha-' was all that came to mind.
The little girl smiled softly, kindly, a smile that seemed too wise for her years- but then, Raistlin realized, anyone who suddenly appeared in his chambers was hardly an ordinary person.
"Come with me, Raistlin Majere. Come, take my hand, and we will walk through the Yuletides of your past. Come." The girl extended a small hand. "I am called Nikora. Come with me now; I will show you things you have seen, and yet never truly seen."
Raistlin shivered. He was not frightened of the child, with her sweet young face- young, he noted, this girl appeared young- but he was somehow scared of what she was to show him. He did not take her hand.
"Are you afraid, Archmagus?"
//Yes, little one,// Raistlin thought. //You've no idea.//
Aloud- but not loudly- he hissed, "I fear no one, a child least of all. It is they who should fear me. . . all of them. . . they /do/ fear me; they do!"
Sadness shadowed the girl's blue eyes. "This is why you must come, why I had to go. Do not wish for power of fear, for you will one day fear yourself."
Again, she reached out for his hand, and though he tried to evade her, she caught it. A pale, misty substance swirled around the two. Raistlin coughed, and by the time he wiped the blood from his mouth, the mist had cleared away, and he was in his childhood home in Solace.
He was quite startled when he noticed himself sitting on the bed.
/We will walk through the Yuletides of your past./
Now Raistlin understood Nikora's words. He was in his own past. Odd that it should rattle him now, when he had traveled through time so much.
He watched the little Raistlin look up.
"Hello, Caramon."
"G'morning, Raist. Merry Yuletide! D'you think Mama maybe remembered this year?"
"No," Little Raistlin said harshly.
"Gilon will have, though," came the voice of Kitiara, about twelve years old. "Bet there are presents for you out there." With her thumb, the twins' sister motioned towards the next room.
Caramon grinned and grabbed his smaller brother's hand. "C'mon, Raist! Presents!"
Little Raistlin was pretty much dragged out of the room he shared with Caramon and into the living room, where, as Kit had predicted, lay seven gifts. The stronger of the boys jumped on the pile and pulled out the two for him- one from Gilon, one from his sister.
He also shoved three at Little Raistlin. "These're yours, Raist."
The small boy took the gifts rather unenthusiastically, slowly unwrapping them, looking tired. Caramon happily tore his open and hugged his father, then Kit, who made a big deal out of pushing him away and looking tough.
He then turned to his brother, who was sitting quietly next to his presents. "D'you like it, Raist? It's a little silly, I guess, but I made it myself, an' Sturm's mama let me have the ribbons, an' I worked real hard on the star-"
"It" was a stick. Presumably Caramon had intended it to be a magic wand, going by the roughly hacked star on the top. The boy had decorated it with pink and yellow ribbons, too. Though there were still a couple of leaves on the stick, it wasn't all that bad for a five year old.
"Mages don't use /wands/, idiot!" Amazing how Raistlin could snarl even when he was five. "They have staffs."
His brother shrugged, looking guilty. "I guess wands are just like real little staffs, though, huh, Raist?"
"No."
"Sorry, Raist."
The archmagus, watching silently and unnoticed, did not remember that particular Yuletide. He could tell, though, that Little Raistlin had enjoyed his power over his brother- he had always loved that power. Before he knew of his talent for magic, it had been the only power he had.
Lost in thought, he did not see the mist come down to carry him and Nikora away, but he noticed it fading. This time, he was near the Inn of the Last Home, Caramon greeting Sturm Brightblade while Little Raistlin read in the snow underneath the tree supporting the inn. The twins looked to be about ten. Or, more, Caramon looked twelve and Little Raistlin looked eight- the mage assumed, therefore, that they were ten.
"Here, Caramon. . . and Raistlin." The older boy added the weaker child's name only as an afterthought. "I have brought you these." The Master of Past and Present noticed vaguely that Sturm had the same precise way of speaking as Dalamar.
Sturm handed both the twins packages of the same size and shape. They turned out to be small wooden shields- the sort of thing that Caramon adored and Raistlin had always thought stupid.
"Gee, thanks, Sturm! Wow!"
"......."
"You are welcome," Sturm murmured. Then, in what was obviously just a polite attempt to draw Little Raistlin into the conversation, he asked, "What's that you're reading?"
Raistlin hated that patronizing tone.
"A book."
"What sorta book, Raist?" Caramon surely thought he was being an enormous help by clarifying the situation for his brother.
"Spellbook."
"Lemme see."
Raistlin held the book up, and Caramon leaned over to look:
¥º¦|£¬¥ «¥_ºº¡» f|||-µ|¥º¦ ¬£º¦¦»ª± £µ ||-¥µ£f¥ ºº¦|||»»æ± -]±µ¥ º|ª¬¬£ ¡¬¥¥|||
Inwardly, Raistlin smiled at Caramon's astonished gaze. The would-be mage couldn't read the words any better than a two-week-old gully dwarf embryo could have. He had simply pulled the book off the shelf along with many others that he had sneaked out of Master Theobald's library, and had opened the book simply to see if he could decipher it.
"And you can really read that, Raist?"
"Of course, brother."
"Show me a spell!"
"I think. . ." Sturm began, wary as ever of magic. Caramon cuffed him lightly in the shoulder, an unspoken request to lighten up. Sturm then excused himself politely, but the onlooking mage noticed that he stopped a little way away and looked back, interested despite his loathing for magic.
Little Raistlin selected a pine needle from the ground and held it up. He mumbled some arcane sounding words. The pine needle disappeared, and Caramon watched, spellbound.
As the mist once again came down upon Raistlin and Nikora, something registered in the back of the mage's mind- //Again, power. Always power. But that is all I have ever had. Magic and manipulation.//
Nikora's voice pierced the mist in a much sharper tone than she had used thus far:
"Think, Raistlin Majere, of what you have seen. I did not heed the spirits when I was shown my faults, and you see me now- a spirit. /Listen to me,/ Raistlin. And await the other two."
He found himself back in his room. Nikora was gone.
Raistlin shivered. Dreams. He sat by the window again, but he could not help wondering if it had been real, and if so, who were "the other two"?
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter.
Jezrael the Jealous: Yes, the rhyming thing was probably confusing; it's an inside joke. Sorry about that.
Jedismuggler: Thanks! You may be right about Dal, it just worked to keep the story going. ^_^
RavenKitty: Awww, so sweet. thank you!!!
Camisole: Vermont? Luckyluckylucky! I bet it was really pretty, with the leaves changing color. LUCKY! And I'll get Fallen Sun from the library tonight, yay!
Ironi Numair: Kay, someone did get the rhyme thing. Cool! ^_^ I really love your writing, so I'll read your TP Christmas Carol as soon as I have the chance!