I really want to thank all of the supportive people who have given me such
wonderful reviews! Because of you (and, I'll admit, I absolutely LOVE
writing.and this gives me a really good reason to) I'm going to continue
this. I have been thinking about going AU w/ this!
Again: I know I don't own Dragonlance and all the related stuff.but ALIRA is mine! You cannot use her in any way, shape, or form unless you ask ME! And if I say "no", that means NO.NO.she's MINE! Buahaha! LOL, again, I'm glad you guys love this, because I love it too! Chapter 5:
They had spent the night chatting away; sleep claiming neither of them as they just talked. Raistlin had never before talked to someone without a specific purpose in mind for the conversation, and this was a new and exciting experience for him.
Alira, however, was experienced with talking with people for the sake of talking. She laughed, and before long had forgotten that the mage before her was Raistlin Majere. Her mental picture of him morphed completely, it was as though he, himself, had undergone a transformation. And he had.
"But then, Caramon was running around like a fool shouting for the snipe! When he finally came back, the bag he carried was wriggling madly! And then he opened it, and Tas was inside, and he just stared at it! Everyone laughed until their sides hurt!" Raistlin was telling her about an incident where they sent Caramon on a false snipe hunt. He laughed harder than he ever had before, and yet he didn't cough at all. Suddenly, an idea hit Alira.
"Wait! You haven't coughed since we got in from the storm!" she cried. The storm in question was still raging outside, worse than ever, and it was already deep in the night.
His face lit up when he realized she was right, then darkened with questioning. "What do you think is wrong?"
"Not what do I think is wrong, but what I think is right! Ever since we started talking, you've been laughing and having fun, and you haven't coughed at all!" She said excitedly.
Raistlin calmed down after hearing her theory. His golden skin glittered, and his eyes sparkled as he thought about what she just said. Then, after a few moments of measured silence, he perked up, grinned, and laughed again.
"I think you may be right!" he said gleefully, almost happy enough to dance.
The air filled soon with an awkward tension. Neither knew what to say next. But eventually, Raistlin struck up the conversation with another story, and they talked again until eventually they both began to feel the stresses of the day, and they had to sleep.
A few hours later, they awoke. It was certainly dawn, if not a bit later, but they couldn't really tell. The storm still ruled. Alira felt disappointed, and started to become crabby. There was no way they would be at Qualinesti when they were supposed to be. She sighed, guessing that they would be willing to forgive her lateness. After all, no one has control over the weather, save the gods themselves.
The cave was getting colder and colder by the second. Alira and Raistlin had to put the fire out before they slept, and in compensation had piled blankets on themselves. But now that they were awake again, they re- awoke the fire for warmth. Alira noticed that Raistlin seemed grumpy as well. They didn't speak.
Alira warmed some food by the fire, and they two of them ate in silence. She made Raistlin his tea, but he pushed it away.
"I have no need for it yet, and that stuff is foul enough that I wouldn't drink it unless I had to." He growled, though not rudely.
She shrugged and with the flick of her wrist sent the liquid flying from the cup into the rain. Alira was tired of tea, and made for one of the packs at her saddle. She pulled a skin from a pack. It appeared to be full of water, to Raistlin, but he was intelligent enough to realize that Alira wasn't carrying water in a skin with the top screwed on so tightly. Water wasn't that precious. It was obvious to Raistlin that it was wine.
And it was one thing Alira learned about Raistlin that was true. In the time she spent conversing with him, she had learned that when they told her that he was scarily intelligent, they were not lying. They weren't exaggerating, either. He was much smarter than she had thought he would be, though he didn't flaunt his intelligence. She knew that he knew she carried a wineskin. She felt rather guilty. She was not the type of person who frequently drank. Occasionally, a nice glass with a meal was fine, but she abhorred people who drank themselves into a stupor. It disgusted her, and as a result she tended to avoid wine.
Raistlin didn't mind wine, but he, too, tended to associate it with drunkards. He hadn't had wine in quite a while, though, and the beverage was enough to pique his interest.
"Wine?" he asked, though he knew very well what it was.
"Yes. Elven. A gift from Par-Salian, he always had a good taste for Elven wines." Alira said, opening the skin and sniffing the contents.
She poured herself a taste, then looked at Raistlin, and poured him one as well. She offered him the cup, and he accepted it graciously. Taking a sip, even he could tell it was a very fine wine. It was light, and sweet, with a delicate bouquet. He savored it, and swallowed. She did much the same thing, appreciating the fine Elven wine despite the fact that she knew nothing about wine.
They sat in silence some more. She didn't pour more wine. Alira had closed the skin as quickly as she had opened it, and tucked it back away. Raistlin took out a book of spells, studying, and Alira suddenly felt compelled to do the same. She was, after all, as much a mage as he was. Besides, she felt guilty for having been too obsessed with this trip to crack a book.
Before long, both were busy committing spells to memory. They constantly rose from their studies, at odd intervals, to check and see if the storm had shown signs of abating. It didn't. They returned to studying only to repeat the same gesture later.
It was suddenly boring. Not the studying, this time, but just being there was boring. He was bored, and yet busy. In his opinion, it was a strange combination. But he sat silently, working.
He glanced up to see Alira looking out into the storm, a depressed look on her face.
"Why so sad?" he asked her. Raistlin had gotten used to asking her how she was feeling. She snapped her head to look at him.
"I- I don't really know. I think I'm just upset about being late." She said, pushing a strand of renegade hair behind her ear.
"Hm." He said, unable to fake interest. He chewed at his lip as he concentrated on the proper pronunciation of the spell. He was getting seriously close to writing it down, but he didn't have a spare bit of parchment.
"Alira?" he asked, still frowning over the alluring spell.
"Yes?"
"Do you have any spare parchment?"
"No."
Raistlin cursed, to Alira's surprise. He didn't curse often, and he knew it, but he didn't care. He was genuinely upset about not being able to grasp the spell.
"Which spell?" she asked, instinctively knowing what was wrong.
"Come." He said, inviting her to take a look. She set her book down, carefully marking her page, and walked calmly over to where he sat. Sitting next to him, she peered onto the page.
"Oh, I know that one! Took me a few days, but I understood it eventually." She commented. A pang of jealousy flew through Raistlin, but he suppressed it. In retaliation, he didn't ask her to help him. He waited until she offered, and then accepted.
"Okay, firstly, you've got to think about the regular sleep-spell. Ast tasarak sinuralan krynawi. I think what you are getting wrong about this particular spell is the vowels, that's what I was doing wrong. So use the same vowels as in the sleep-spell."
He did. It worked.
"Thank you." He said, being cordial, she smiled at him. Something happened, it was his stomach or something, it seemed as though it had done a flip.
Again: I know I don't own Dragonlance and all the related stuff.but ALIRA is mine! You cannot use her in any way, shape, or form unless you ask ME! And if I say "no", that means NO.NO.she's MINE! Buahaha! LOL, again, I'm glad you guys love this, because I love it too! Chapter 5:
They had spent the night chatting away; sleep claiming neither of them as they just talked. Raistlin had never before talked to someone without a specific purpose in mind for the conversation, and this was a new and exciting experience for him.
Alira, however, was experienced with talking with people for the sake of talking. She laughed, and before long had forgotten that the mage before her was Raistlin Majere. Her mental picture of him morphed completely, it was as though he, himself, had undergone a transformation. And he had.
"But then, Caramon was running around like a fool shouting for the snipe! When he finally came back, the bag he carried was wriggling madly! And then he opened it, and Tas was inside, and he just stared at it! Everyone laughed until their sides hurt!" Raistlin was telling her about an incident where they sent Caramon on a false snipe hunt. He laughed harder than he ever had before, and yet he didn't cough at all. Suddenly, an idea hit Alira.
"Wait! You haven't coughed since we got in from the storm!" she cried. The storm in question was still raging outside, worse than ever, and it was already deep in the night.
His face lit up when he realized she was right, then darkened with questioning. "What do you think is wrong?"
"Not what do I think is wrong, but what I think is right! Ever since we started talking, you've been laughing and having fun, and you haven't coughed at all!" She said excitedly.
Raistlin calmed down after hearing her theory. His golden skin glittered, and his eyes sparkled as he thought about what she just said. Then, after a few moments of measured silence, he perked up, grinned, and laughed again.
"I think you may be right!" he said gleefully, almost happy enough to dance.
The air filled soon with an awkward tension. Neither knew what to say next. But eventually, Raistlin struck up the conversation with another story, and they talked again until eventually they both began to feel the stresses of the day, and they had to sleep.
A few hours later, they awoke. It was certainly dawn, if not a bit later, but they couldn't really tell. The storm still ruled. Alira felt disappointed, and started to become crabby. There was no way they would be at Qualinesti when they were supposed to be. She sighed, guessing that they would be willing to forgive her lateness. After all, no one has control over the weather, save the gods themselves.
The cave was getting colder and colder by the second. Alira and Raistlin had to put the fire out before they slept, and in compensation had piled blankets on themselves. But now that they were awake again, they re- awoke the fire for warmth. Alira noticed that Raistlin seemed grumpy as well. They didn't speak.
Alira warmed some food by the fire, and they two of them ate in silence. She made Raistlin his tea, but he pushed it away.
"I have no need for it yet, and that stuff is foul enough that I wouldn't drink it unless I had to." He growled, though not rudely.
She shrugged and with the flick of her wrist sent the liquid flying from the cup into the rain. Alira was tired of tea, and made for one of the packs at her saddle. She pulled a skin from a pack. It appeared to be full of water, to Raistlin, but he was intelligent enough to realize that Alira wasn't carrying water in a skin with the top screwed on so tightly. Water wasn't that precious. It was obvious to Raistlin that it was wine.
And it was one thing Alira learned about Raistlin that was true. In the time she spent conversing with him, she had learned that when they told her that he was scarily intelligent, they were not lying. They weren't exaggerating, either. He was much smarter than she had thought he would be, though he didn't flaunt his intelligence. She knew that he knew she carried a wineskin. She felt rather guilty. She was not the type of person who frequently drank. Occasionally, a nice glass with a meal was fine, but she abhorred people who drank themselves into a stupor. It disgusted her, and as a result she tended to avoid wine.
Raistlin didn't mind wine, but he, too, tended to associate it with drunkards. He hadn't had wine in quite a while, though, and the beverage was enough to pique his interest.
"Wine?" he asked, though he knew very well what it was.
"Yes. Elven. A gift from Par-Salian, he always had a good taste for Elven wines." Alira said, opening the skin and sniffing the contents.
She poured herself a taste, then looked at Raistlin, and poured him one as well. She offered him the cup, and he accepted it graciously. Taking a sip, even he could tell it was a very fine wine. It was light, and sweet, with a delicate bouquet. He savored it, and swallowed. She did much the same thing, appreciating the fine Elven wine despite the fact that she knew nothing about wine.
They sat in silence some more. She didn't pour more wine. Alira had closed the skin as quickly as she had opened it, and tucked it back away. Raistlin took out a book of spells, studying, and Alira suddenly felt compelled to do the same. She was, after all, as much a mage as he was. Besides, she felt guilty for having been too obsessed with this trip to crack a book.
Before long, both were busy committing spells to memory. They constantly rose from their studies, at odd intervals, to check and see if the storm had shown signs of abating. It didn't. They returned to studying only to repeat the same gesture later.
It was suddenly boring. Not the studying, this time, but just being there was boring. He was bored, and yet busy. In his opinion, it was a strange combination. But he sat silently, working.
He glanced up to see Alira looking out into the storm, a depressed look on her face.
"Why so sad?" he asked her. Raistlin had gotten used to asking her how she was feeling. She snapped her head to look at him.
"I- I don't really know. I think I'm just upset about being late." She said, pushing a strand of renegade hair behind her ear.
"Hm." He said, unable to fake interest. He chewed at his lip as he concentrated on the proper pronunciation of the spell. He was getting seriously close to writing it down, but he didn't have a spare bit of parchment.
"Alira?" he asked, still frowning over the alluring spell.
"Yes?"
"Do you have any spare parchment?"
"No."
Raistlin cursed, to Alira's surprise. He didn't curse often, and he knew it, but he didn't care. He was genuinely upset about not being able to grasp the spell.
"Which spell?" she asked, instinctively knowing what was wrong.
"Come." He said, inviting her to take a look. She set her book down, carefully marking her page, and walked calmly over to where he sat. Sitting next to him, she peered onto the page.
"Oh, I know that one! Took me a few days, but I understood it eventually." She commented. A pang of jealousy flew through Raistlin, but he suppressed it. In retaliation, he didn't ask her to help him. He waited until she offered, and then accepted.
"Okay, firstly, you've got to think about the regular sleep-spell. Ast tasarak sinuralan krynawi. I think what you are getting wrong about this particular spell is the vowels, that's what I was doing wrong. So use the same vowels as in the sleep-spell."
He did. It worked.
"Thank you." He said, being cordial, she smiled at him. Something happened, it was his stomach or something, it seemed as though it had done a flip.