A/N: Okay, okay. I know I need to update my other fics. But...I dont have
as much control over my writing as I would like to. I dont want to use the
now cliche word 'inspired', but I am simply not motivated to finish them
yet. It's somewhat of a selective Writer's Block :P But I can't just leave
the DiR world permenantly, can I? So...here's a short story. It starts a
few years after SotT, and holds true to it's ending - that the Drews forgot
about Merry, but remembered about Bran and Will. Here's hoping that I finish
it. =)
Silence wafted into the open window and poured over a 15 year old boy slumped in a chair. An hour ago, he had still known about his post as Watchman of the Light; an hour ago, he had known his name. A voice like a wisp floating in his dreams - an old voice speaking with no hint of an accent, yet a sense that his native tounge was one much different then the plain English - fell lazily into Will's ear. "This is our Watchman?" The voice melted into the back of his mind, tugging at a name being surpressed by the relapse of hepatitis. "Get up, boy. You have work to do."
Jane was thinking about anything but Will Stanton when Barney stumbled absentmindedly through her open door. His eyes flickered everywhere, his focus being on an object of fascination somewhere in his mind. Jane eyed him before lightly telling him to wake up. He glared at her for only an instant before shaking his head and sitting on a chair.
"Jane, I had the most super dream a moment ago."
Jane blinked once at Barney's sudden transition, then again at his choice of words. "Take a nap like I told you, then?"
"Well, yes...but not because you told me to, see...." -Jane was rolling her eyes.
"Oh, come off it-"
"Jane," he said, cutting her off, "did we know anyone who looked like this?" And he drew from his coat an amazing sketch of a white-haired man with a beak-like nose and hollow eyes. Jane was taken aback at the ferocity of the man depicted in the picture, it was in all a very powerful drawing. She just glanced at Barney in awe.
"Well?"
"...Barney, where'd you learn to draw like that?"
Barney knew Jane would immediately recognise the style of the paper, but if was only a few years back, he would never had recieved credit for the picture. It was amazing how fast Barney's talent had become recognised by the Drew household.
"Come on, you're dodging the question," he said impatiently. "Look, I had this dream, and I made that picture just afterwards-I don't think I could have without the timing."
Jane hestiantly set the picture down, as if it were a glass sheet that could break at a glance. She looked at Barney's flushed face, and suddenly was filled with a sensation that she imagined one would feel when they had amnesia. The face was obviously familiar - how could one forget the distinctive, hawk-nosed
face? - but as she tried to pull more from her memory she found a cold bar restraining her from the details. Barney studied her face grimly, obviously he knew exactly what she felt.
"There's more." Barney began. "Do you remember our trip to Wales?"
Jane nodded and thought of a tall mountain and the two young men they had met in the course of the journey. But details eluded her in the same mysterious way as the picture haunted her. She remembered the name Will Stanton, but had forgotten all else. And Barney understood, again. As she struggled to remember, she was struck with the face of the boy with brown hair - his chin making him look so much like the picture lying on the desk...
And elsewhere, the man in that picture worried alone in a light hall. He had left a sliver of memory in the Drews, hoping that if the need came they could reawakened without much trouble. But the need for them had him lost in thought, and something still needed to be done for Will.
Will awoke suddenly, his eyes snapped open, alert; the boy leapt out of his chair as if he had sensed a sudden threat. He stared savagely around the empty, dusty room. Where the hell was he? Come to think of it, who was he? His memory had deteriorated so rapidly, but his health had returned, and so he left the isolation room and wandered out of the hospital, somehow slipping around so honestly that he looked like he belonged there. He couldn't have felt more out of place.
The Old Speech was in his head, echoing - he could barely understand it anymore. A slight premonition of danger was all he had before he felt a heavy object land squarely on his head.
A/N: More later, I need to reread some of this material...I'm not great at writing characters that aren't my own without reading them constantly :P
Silence wafted into the open window and poured over a 15 year old boy slumped in a chair. An hour ago, he had still known about his post as Watchman of the Light; an hour ago, he had known his name. A voice like a wisp floating in his dreams - an old voice speaking with no hint of an accent, yet a sense that his native tounge was one much different then the plain English - fell lazily into Will's ear. "This is our Watchman?" The voice melted into the back of his mind, tugging at a name being surpressed by the relapse of hepatitis. "Get up, boy. You have work to do."
Jane was thinking about anything but Will Stanton when Barney stumbled absentmindedly through her open door. His eyes flickered everywhere, his focus being on an object of fascination somewhere in his mind. Jane eyed him before lightly telling him to wake up. He glared at her for only an instant before shaking his head and sitting on a chair.
"Jane, I had the most super dream a moment ago."
Jane blinked once at Barney's sudden transition, then again at his choice of words. "Take a nap like I told you, then?"
"Well, yes...but not because you told me to, see...." -Jane was rolling her eyes.
"Oh, come off it-"
"Jane," he said, cutting her off, "did we know anyone who looked like this?" And he drew from his coat an amazing sketch of a white-haired man with a beak-like nose and hollow eyes. Jane was taken aback at the ferocity of the man depicted in the picture, it was in all a very powerful drawing. She just glanced at Barney in awe.
"Well?"
"...Barney, where'd you learn to draw like that?"
Barney knew Jane would immediately recognise the style of the paper, but if was only a few years back, he would never had recieved credit for the picture. It was amazing how fast Barney's talent had become recognised by the Drew household.
"Come on, you're dodging the question," he said impatiently. "Look, I had this dream, and I made that picture just afterwards-I don't think I could have without the timing."
Jane hestiantly set the picture down, as if it were a glass sheet that could break at a glance. She looked at Barney's flushed face, and suddenly was filled with a sensation that she imagined one would feel when they had amnesia. The face was obviously familiar - how could one forget the distinctive, hawk-nosed
face? - but as she tried to pull more from her memory she found a cold bar restraining her from the details. Barney studied her face grimly, obviously he knew exactly what she felt.
"There's more." Barney began. "Do you remember our trip to Wales?"
Jane nodded and thought of a tall mountain and the two young men they had met in the course of the journey. But details eluded her in the same mysterious way as the picture haunted her. She remembered the name Will Stanton, but had forgotten all else. And Barney understood, again. As she struggled to remember, she was struck with the face of the boy with brown hair - his chin making him look so much like the picture lying on the desk...
And elsewhere, the man in that picture worried alone in a light hall. He had left a sliver of memory in the Drews, hoping that if the need came they could reawakened without much trouble. But the need for them had him lost in thought, and something still needed to be done for Will.
Will awoke suddenly, his eyes snapped open, alert; the boy leapt out of his chair as if he had sensed a sudden threat. He stared savagely around the empty, dusty room. Where the hell was he? Come to think of it, who was he? His memory had deteriorated so rapidly, but his health had returned, and so he left the isolation room and wandered out of the hospital, somehow slipping around so honestly that he looked like he belonged there. He couldn't have felt more out of place.
The Old Speech was in his head, echoing - he could barely understand it anymore. A slight premonition of danger was all he had before he felt a heavy object land squarely on his head.
A/N: More later, I need to reread some of this material...I'm not great at writing characters that aren't my own without reading them constantly :P