"Caramon, wait! Wait fer meeeeee!"
A five-year-old Tika Waylan ran as fast as her chubby legs would carry her after the backs of the retreating almost-grown boys. The one to whom she was calling to towered above the others, and didn't hear (or care) well enough to stop for her. Panting, Tika paused for breath beneath a tree from which there was a clear view of the field where the boys played goblin ball.
She almost didn't notice the thin figure, seated ramrod straight and silent beneath the wide branches. (Caramon's twin brother.)
Although she had seen him walking in town, imperious and foreign in his white robes, she had never been this close to him. He hadn't noticed her yet; his gaze was on the far-off field, eyes feverish and quick in his still face. Tika took a moment to observe him. He looked oddly incongruous, sitting on the dark earth under the lovely tree, as if he didn't fit in so natural and earthy a place, and Tika placed him in an old dusty library drawn from some place in the back of her mind. That was better; he fit in a still image of whispering books and living shadows. Tika shivered a bit, feeling suddenly the intruder in the presence of this boy, who would always belong where she wouldn't and couldn't be.
He must have noticed her, because he spoke then, eyes never leaving the field.
"You'll be too small to play." His voice was low and smooth and his eyes looked large in his face as he turned his head towards her. Tika was sure that it was her imagination, but for a moment they seemed to flash gold. "They won't wait up for someone as small and useless as you."
"U-ummm." Tika didn't like this boy who didn't fit. His voice and eyes were too pretty, and they both said such ugly things. He smiled slightly, looking cruelly pleased at her stuttered response, and Tika straightened herself, taking a defiant breath and gathering her wits to face this odd human-shaped monster. The place where he fit in the dark library wouldn't leave, and seemed to hover around the boy and the tree in the edges of her vision, making him even more imposing. But the flash of white lace and laughter came also to her mind, easily from the front of her thoughts. More like memory than fantasy, Tika held the perfect future image in her mind, running mental fingers over the dream as if it were the favorite blanket that she had laid aside last year. She wasn't ever going to be an elf princess or slay a dragon, but she would make this dream come true. She would marry Caramon, and something in her five-year-old mind knew she was going to have to convince his brother before she could convince anyone else.
"Will they not wait for you either, then?" She asked. The boy's expression soured.
"If I asked, Caramon would." (Not like you). Hung between them. The sentiment behind the statement was vaguely unkind in a way that Tika didn't quite understand. This was why she liked Caramon, and why she didn't like his strange brother, though she would never say so. Caramon was so easy to play with, understand and love, and he was never ever vague or discreetly unkind. Honest and sweet, and so much better than this stranger beneath the tree.
"Then do you mind if I sit with you; if they won't wait for me, I mean," Tika said, doing her best to sound as if she was mature, and very much the equal of someone who was almost grown up. The boy, (Raistlin), Tika mentally berated herself, looked surprised before he smiled in that same uncomfortable way. He motioned with a graceful inclination of his head to the ground beside him, a place between him and his spellbooks just large enough for a small girl. Tika wondered briefly if this boy had ever been a small child like her, and somehow doubted it, unable to picture anywhere in the vast library in which he belonged that he had ever been too small to reach. She had that obscure gut feeling that Father had told her always to trust. (Don't sit down). She sat down anyway.
Tika regarded Raistlin very solemnly, looking up at his face with hooded eyes. She decided it was best to be direct.
"I'm going to marry Caramon Majere."
His eyes widened and he looked very angry for a moment, though his face didn't change. Then he threw back his head and laughed. It sounded ugly in his smooth voice. He looked back down at her, his face contorted in a snarl, and spoke very rapidly, biting off his words as if they were foul rather than saying them.
"Do you really think, little girl, that he could ever love you more than he loves me? Would you, a child so pathetically ordinary it will never occur to you to dream of being more than a tavern wench, pit yourself against me as rival for the affections of someone whom I already own?"
Tika was momentarily thrown at the abrupt change in his disposition. She almost didn't hear what he said, shocked at his tone and appearance. Regaining her equilibrium, she took a moment to digest what he had said.
She didn't know exactly what he meant, but she knew he was arguing with her. Tika looked up into those pretty, bitter, older-than-their-years eyes, watching them widen. Not many people would look this strange boy full in the face either. She repeated what she knew was true. "I'm going to marry Caramon Majere."
The cruel smile was back, and the strange boy leaned in close. For a fleeting, panicked moment Tika thought her might kiss her, but his mouth ended up pressed almost to her ear, hot breath a caress that made her shiver slightly. (I never imagined any bit of him could be warm.) He whispered softly against her skin, and Tika more felt than heard each word in a faint puff of breath.
"You can try all your life, little girl, but you'll never have him. No matter how much you love, no matter what you give, you'll only hold his gaze for a moment before his eyes turn to me. You might have his cock-"the mage paused at this word that Tika had heard the nasty village boys use to shock the village girls. He seemed to savor it, and Tika felt him smile against the small shell of her ear, "-but his soul will always be mine. You'll find no room for yourself in either. You will have him when I say so, and even then you'll only have my pale little cast-off. He'll whine and bawl for me. Because that's what you deserve, you and everyone else in this heap of a town, you don't have the brains to dream of anything better than my idiot brother; you don't have the capacity to imagine that anything might be better than an easygoing simpleton. That's exactly what you'll get. And when you get it, it will be as bitter as your fading, pointless life, because it will have been, and it will still be, mine, even when I no longer want it. That will be your future, little girl, if you try to take the place that rightfully belongs to me."
The mage drew back, looking vicious and satisfied. Tika looked at his thin, sharp face and those pretty eyes. She felt pity for this sad boy, who hated so much that he had resolved to break the only one who would love him, simply because he could. She pitied him, but not enough; she was sorry, but not sorry enough for it to be all right for this ugly boy to break such a good, true thing. (There are so few true things forged in the fires of this world.)Hatred swelled deep and dark in Tika, and it must have shown in her eyes because the boy gave her his tight, cruel smile, daring her to contest his claim to Caramon. Tika couldn't, and she didn't care.
Trembling, Tika rose to her feet. (You will not do this thing.)
"You know the difference between me and you, Raistlin Majere?" Tika's own eyes shown over-bright in her face with unshed, angry tears. "The difference between us two is that I'm going to go play goblin ball with the boys now. I'm going to be too small and no-one is going to want to pass to me, and I know it, but I'll be near Caramon, and even when I'm too weak and little to be of use, I won't be weak enough to sit on the sidelines and sulk like a big, nasty, bullying creep. And someday Caramon is gonna notice it."
Tika bent low next to his ear, imitating the mage as best she could, and breathed "Break him all you like, I'll be waiting patiently to make him whole again."
Tika then turned abruptly and did her best five-year-old impression of storming off. She didn't turn around and look back even when she heard the sharp hiss of anger. Her eyes were ahead of her, looking out at the field where an almost-grown boy scored at goblin ball. She smiled.
A five-year-old Tika Waylan ran as fast as her chubby legs would carry her after the backs of the retreating almost-grown boys. The one to whom she was calling to towered above the others, and didn't hear (or care) well enough to stop for her. Panting, Tika paused for breath beneath a tree from which there was a clear view of the field where the boys played goblin ball.
She almost didn't notice the thin figure, seated ramrod straight and silent beneath the wide branches. (Caramon's twin brother.)
Although she had seen him walking in town, imperious and foreign in his white robes, she had never been this close to him. He hadn't noticed her yet; his gaze was on the far-off field, eyes feverish and quick in his still face. Tika took a moment to observe him. He looked oddly incongruous, sitting on the dark earth under the lovely tree, as if he didn't fit in so natural and earthy a place, and Tika placed him in an old dusty library drawn from some place in the back of her mind. That was better; he fit in a still image of whispering books and living shadows. Tika shivered a bit, feeling suddenly the intruder in the presence of this boy, who would always belong where she wouldn't and couldn't be.
He must have noticed her, because he spoke then, eyes never leaving the field.
"You'll be too small to play." His voice was low and smooth and his eyes looked large in his face as he turned his head towards her. Tika was sure that it was her imagination, but for a moment they seemed to flash gold. "They won't wait up for someone as small and useless as you."
"U-ummm." Tika didn't like this boy who didn't fit. His voice and eyes were too pretty, and they both said such ugly things. He smiled slightly, looking cruelly pleased at her stuttered response, and Tika straightened herself, taking a defiant breath and gathering her wits to face this odd human-shaped monster. The place where he fit in the dark library wouldn't leave, and seemed to hover around the boy and the tree in the edges of her vision, making him even more imposing. But the flash of white lace and laughter came also to her mind, easily from the front of her thoughts. More like memory than fantasy, Tika held the perfect future image in her mind, running mental fingers over the dream as if it were the favorite blanket that she had laid aside last year. She wasn't ever going to be an elf princess or slay a dragon, but she would make this dream come true. She would marry Caramon, and something in her five-year-old mind knew she was going to have to convince his brother before she could convince anyone else.
"Will they not wait for you either, then?" She asked. The boy's expression soured.
"If I asked, Caramon would." (Not like you). Hung between them. The sentiment behind the statement was vaguely unkind in a way that Tika didn't quite understand. This was why she liked Caramon, and why she didn't like his strange brother, though she would never say so. Caramon was so easy to play with, understand and love, and he was never ever vague or discreetly unkind. Honest and sweet, and so much better than this stranger beneath the tree.
"Then do you mind if I sit with you; if they won't wait for me, I mean," Tika said, doing her best to sound as if she was mature, and very much the equal of someone who was almost grown up. The boy, (Raistlin), Tika mentally berated herself, looked surprised before he smiled in that same uncomfortable way. He motioned with a graceful inclination of his head to the ground beside him, a place between him and his spellbooks just large enough for a small girl. Tika wondered briefly if this boy had ever been a small child like her, and somehow doubted it, unable to picture anywhere in the vast library in which he belonged that he had ever been too small to reach. She had that obscure gut feeling that Father had told her always to trust. (Don't sit down). She sat down anyway.
Tika regarded Raistlin very solemnly, looking up at his face with hooded eyes. She decided it was best to be direct.
"I'm going to marry Caramon Majere."
His eyes widened and he looked very angry for a moment, though his face didn't change. Then he threw back his head and laughed. It sounded ugly in his smooth voice. He looked back down at her, his face contorted in a snarl, and spoke very rapidly, biting off his words as if they were foul rather than saying them.
"Do you really think, little girl, that he could ever love you more than he loves me? Would you, a child so pathetically ordinary it will never occur to you to dream of being more than a tavern wench, pit yourself against me as rival for the affections of someone whom I already own?"
Tika was momentarily thrown at the abrupt change in his disposition. She almost didn't hear what he said, shocked at his tone and appearance. Regaining her equilibrium, she took a moment to digest what he had said.
She didn't know exactly what he meant, but she knew he was arguing with her. Tika looked up into those pretty, bitter, older-than-their-years eyes, watching them widen. Not many people would look this strange boy full in the face either. She repeated what she knew was true. "I'm going to marry Caramon Majere."
The cruel smile was back, and the strange boy leaned in close. For a fleeting, panicked moment Tika thought her might kiss her, but his mouth ended up pressed almost to her ear, hot breath a caress that made her shiver slightly. (I never imagined any bit of him could be warm.) He whispered softly against her skin, and Tika more felt than heard each word in a faint puff of breath.
"You can try all your life, little girl, but you'll never have him. No matter how much you love, no matter what you give, you'll only hold his gaze for a moment before his eyes turn to me. You might have his cock-"the mage paused at this word that Tika had heard the nasty village boys use to shock the village girls. He seemed to savor it, and Tika felt him smile against the small shell of her ear, "-but his soul will always be mine. You'll find no room for yourself in either. You will have him when I say so, and even then you'll only have my pale little cast-off. He'll whine and bawl for me. Because that's what you deserve, you and everyone else in this heap of a town, you don't have the brains to dream of anything better than my idiot brother; you don't have the capacity to imagine that anything might be better than an easygoing simpleton. That's exactly what you'll get. And when you get it, it will be as bitter as your fading, pointless life, because it will have been, and it will still be, mine, even when I no longer want it. That will be your future, little girl, if you try to take the place that rightfully belongs to me."
The mage drew back, looking vicious and satisfied. Tika looked at his thin, sharp face and those pretty eyes. She felt pity for this sad boy, who hated so much that he had resolved to break the only one who would love him, simply because he could. She pitied him, but not enough; she was sorry, but not sorry enough for it to be all right for this ugly boy to break such a good, true thing. (There are so few true things forged in the fires of this world.)Hatred swelled deep and dark in Tika, and it must have shown in her eyes because the boy gave her his tight, cruel smile, daring her to contest his claim to Caramon. Tika couldn't, and she didn't care.
Trembling, Tika rose to her feet. (You will not do this thing.)
"You know the difference between me and you, Raistlin Majere?" Tika's own eyes shown over-bright in her face with unshed, angry tears. "The difference between us two is that I'm going to go play goblin ball with the boys now. I'm going to be too small and no-one is going to want to pass to me, and I know it, but I'll be near Caramon, and even when I'm too weak and little to be of use, I won't be weak enough to sit on the sidelines and sulk like a big, nasty, bullying creep. And someday Caramon is gonna notice it."
Tika bent low next to his ear, imitating the mage as best she could, and breathed "Break him all you like, I'll be waiting patiently to make him whole again."
Tika then turned abruptly and did her best five-year-old impression of storming off. She didn't turn around and look back even when she heard the sharp hiss of anger. Her eyes were ahead of her, looking out at the field where an almost-grown boy scored at goblin ball. She smiled.