author's note: well, here it is... the third installment of the saga that began with "behind" and continued in "paradox." read those two stories before you read "heroes" or else nothing that you read here will make ANY sense whatsoever. yeah, i know, i'm a slave driver... please, please, PLEASE review--it makes me ever so happy. ^_^ not to mention it encourages me to keep writing... thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my series of TLU fics. in the immortal words of adam carolla: enjoy.
::Heroes::
"This has gotten ridiculous."
Molly Grue didn't answer, save the small sigh that mingled with the steam rising from her cooking pot, and that was too shy a sound to rise above the steady crackle of the cooking fire.
"We're together again... like she wanted. So she went through a very... traumatic experience. Understood. But no one -died-."
The sigh again.
"And I've heard of some pretty strange reactions to... trauma, but this is just a bit much, isn't it?"
"Lir," said Molly finally, "if you don't hush up this instant I'll stab you with a ladle, see if I don't. Why don't you go out and slay a dragon; bring her the head. Maybe that will anger her into speaking," she added spitefully.
With a great show of dignity, Lir seethed his way out of the kitchen.
"Schmendrick." Molly tugged at the magician's starry robes unabashedly. "Schmendrick, put down your blasted cards and listen to me for once!"
Schmendrick looked up at the woman, his visage overrun by hunted worry. "What do you want?" he said tersely, not himself at all.
"She's been back at the castle for a month now, and still not a word for her, no sign of life save the shake of a head, 'yes' or 'no.' Can't you do anything for her? It's your magic that--"
"--that got her into this mess, yes, I KNOW!" Schmendrick spat with a vehemence undercharacteristic, the flopping tip of his pointed hat momentarily straightening with the concentrated force of his rage. "My God, woman, do you think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't noticed? After all, it's only the third time I've violated her form!" He laughed, and it was bitter.
Molly's careworn face softened a bit, adding a quiet luminosity to her eyes that belied her gruff exterior. "I know," she said gently, "I know. You can't blame yourself."
"Why not?" Schmendrick muttered caustically. "It's easy."
In answer, Molly grabbed the man's hand and yanked him to the window, turning him to the proper angle for seeing what she wished him to see. "Look at her," she said with the intense calm that was her special talent. "Look at how still she is, how silent. She is pale and glows almost ghostly. What if she dies? Will you add that to your list of regrets?"
I can sorrow, but I cannot regret.
He whispered, "What good is magic if it cannot save a unicorn?"
She understood. "Even heroes sometimes fail."
He whispered, "Does she cry?"
She understood. "Never."
He dipped his horn in the clear water, and it cleared, pure. "Come, drink," he implored her, guiding her with utmost tenderness to the edge of the stream. She complied mutely, as she always did, foldly her long deer legs beneath her... she was so weak.
"Shhh..." The salty drops fell, one, then many. "Shhh, don't cry..." Koshayn nuzzled her cheek gently, sorrow welling within his heart. "Don't cry...."
To be continued....
::Heroes::
"This has gotten ridiculous."
Molly Grue didn't answer, save the small sigh that mingled with the steam rising from her cooking pot, and that was too shy a sound to rise above the steady crackle of the cooking fire.
"We're together again... like she wanted. So she went through a very... traumatic experience. Understood. But no one -died-."
The sigh again.
"And I've heard of some pretty strange reactions to... trauma, but this is just a bit much, isn't it?"
"Lir," said Molly finally, "if you don't hush up this instant I'll stab you with a ladle, see if I don't. Why don't you go out and slay a dragon; bring her the head. Maybe that will anger her into speaking," she added spitefully.
With a great show of dignity, Lir seethed his way out of the kitchen.
"Schmendrick." Molly tugged at the magician's starry robes unabashedly. "Schmendrick, put down your blasted cards and listen to me for once!"
Schmendrick looked up at the woman, his visage overrun by hunted worry. "What do you want?" he said tersely, not himself at all.
"She's been back at the castle for a month now, and still not a word for her, no sign of life save the shake of a head, 'yes' or 'no.' Can't you do anything for her? It's your magic that--"
"--that got her into this mess, yes, I KNOW!" Schmendrick spat with a vehemence undercharacteristic, the flopping tip of his pointed hat momentarily straightening with the concentrated force of his rage. "My God, woman, do you think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't noticed? After all, it's only the third time I've violated her form!" He laughed, and it was bitter.
Molly's careworn face softened a bit, adding a quiet luminosity to her eyes that belied her gruff exterior. "I know," she said gently, "I know. You can't blame yourself."
"Why not?" Schmendrick muttered caustically. "It's easy."
In answer, Molly grabbed the man's hand and yanked him to the window, turning him to the proper angle for seeing what she wished him to see. "Look at her," she said with the intense calm that was her special talent. "Look at how still she is, how silent. She is pale and glows almost ghostly. What if she dies? Will you add that to your list of regrets?"
I can sorrow, but I cannot regret.
He whispered, "What good is magic if it cannot save a unicorn?"
She understood. "Even heroes sometimes fail."
He whispered, "Does she cry?"
She understood. "Never."
He dipped his horn in the clear water, and it cleared, pure. "Come, drink," he implored her, guiding her with utmost tenderness to the edge of the stream. She complied mutely, as she always did, foldly her long deer legs beneath her... she was so weak.
"Shhh..." The salty drops fell, one, then many. "Shhh, don't cry..." Koshayn nuzzled her cheek gently, sorrow welling within his heart. "Don't cry...."
To be continued....