Disclaimer: Most of these loverly people are not mine except for Ariana and several others to follow. As others have stated it quite nicely: anybody/thing that you don't recognize is mine. Paws off or you will only have stumps left. All of them belong to Margaret Weis and C.S. Friedman. Blah blah.
AN: Okay, this is a Mary Ann or Sue Beth or whatever bleeding backwater/mid-west name you give these things, for those of you who like to know ahead of time what you are getting yourselves into. It does attempt at a plot though (small raw turnipy-thing waves an under-developed arm). The whole reason for this (flourishes hand vaguely) is to give my character a beginning because I just started writing these fanfics that are lying in my room (somewhere) and my good friend pointed out that we never knew how I ended up with Raistlin... it just happened... like magic (groans at pun and slaps forehead). Eventually, there is a Pretender theme that drifts in, but not until later. So there you have it... read on and please review so I can know if I should continue typing this or leave it written and unfinished in my notebook.
Chapter 1: Delaware
Ariana looked at the kender in front of her apprehensively. He was, and had been, talking incessantly for the past few minutes about how fantastic it had been when her grandfather had dematerialized. So this was her uncle, her father's half-brother. Actually, she pondered, was he really her uncle or was it half-uncle, or did it not even count? At any rate, she would call him 'uncle' because that just made everything a whole lot easier. She realized suddenly that the kender had stopped talking and was looking expectantly at her, as if waiting for her to answer.
Frantically, she thought back to what he had said... something about going now to meet the friends of his... "Yes," she told him, hoping she had given him the answer he was looking for.
A grin split his face, "Alright!" He tugged her off, down the road, babbling on about the people she was to meet. She tried to listen, but she was nervous and he was talking awfully fast. Almost as fast as a gnome, she considered, then took it back. Gnomes slurred everything together; all this kender was doing was skipping from one topic to another. Within five minutes they reached the enormous trees they'd been going towards. The sun was getting lower in the sky and lit everything up in one final hurrah of the day. She glanced up and realized that their destination was surely in the treetops, for not a house was seen on the ground. Great spiraling staircases wound around the large tree trunks and rope bridges connected the trees into a large web-like network. Ariana shuddered. The height of this town was terrifying.
The kender in front of her, whose name she remembered was Tasselhoff, began to climb up the stairway of one of the huge trees. With a wince, she followed, trying her best not to look down between the spaces of each step; she'd never managed to get over her childhood fear of slipping between the cracks, no matter that this was improbable.
Ari and Tas were out of breath half way up and wheezing by the time they reached the top. They paused for a moment, to regain their breath, before stepping into the open doorway of the Inn of the Last Home, as the establishment was called.
Immediately Tas waived his hands in a hello, dashing towards a large, robust man. "Caramon!" he squeaked, hugging the man around the middle. "See? I've brought her! It's my half-niece that I told you about and that you were interested in to paint that mural on the inn wall? Right? Well, she's here now! Finally! Even though I guess it didn't take that long." Tasselhoff let go and gestured for Ariana to come over.
Ari timidly approached the two. "Hi," she greeted softly, "Um, your steps are broken. You can see between them to the ground. Maybe you should look into getting them fixed."
Caramon gave her a puzzled look before laughing at what he thought to be a joke. He extended his hand, "My name's Caramon Majere."
"Ariana Green," she returned, taking his hand gingerly and wincing as he pumped her hand, nearly dislocating her shoulder.
"Let me introduce my friends. We are the ones to be painted in the mural-Tas did tell you about it, right?" At her assent, he led her to a table surrounded by a group. "This is Tanis, Laurana, Goldmoon, Riverwind, Raistlin, my twin, and my wife is the beautiful red-head serving the patrons. Friends, this is Ariana."
"Where are the others? Weren't there... three more?" Ari asked, scanning the group.
The Companions shot each other glances. "Well," the bearded man called Tanis began, "There were. But two... died, and the third betrayed our company."
"I want to hear the story. All of it. How you met, what happened to make you so famous, how your companions died and how you were betrayed. I need to hear this to know you."
"It's a long, long story," Goldmoon warned, eyes shifting to Tanis.
Tanis, the half-elf nodded, "Right. You wouldn't want to hear it."
Ariana looked searchingly at the group. She could feel the sorrow and dark emotions seeping from them. "You've never told it before, have you? You haven't even spoken of it much in passing between yourselves and not to anyone else. The triumph and the hurt, especially the hurt, is still too fresh."
Laurana frowned, "Are you reading our minds?"
"Just your hearts," Ari whispered, "So do I get to hear the story or do I go home?"
The group looked around at each other. A few shrugged, others looked to Tanis, the unofficial leader. "I for one," he began, "would like to get this off my chest. No one knows what really happened other than us-and some of us don't even know the whole story."
"We need to put Sturm and Flint to rest," added Goldmoon, "I would like to do it this way."
"Yes, once we speak about it, things will seem a little better. It will become easier to tell people about," consented Laurana, the elf woman.
"It's a take better told in daylight hours," hissed Raistlin, the thin mage, from his corner. "Why don't we save it for tomorrow?"
Caramon nodded, always agreeable, "Besides-it's dinnertime!" he turned to Ariana, "You'll eat with us?"
She shook her head, "I've already eaten, it's a lot earlier where I'm from. Which is why I've come so late in the day. Grandpa didn't remember the time difference."
Laurana's brow creased slightly, "Where are you from?"
"Delaware," Ari answered, squirming slightly. She wasn't sure how much she should tell them. Grandpa hadn't instructed her in any way to deal with questions-which meant that there weren't specific instructions not to tell them anything. She just didn't want to tell them something she shouldn't have and get yelled at later.
She was saved from further explaining when, who she assumed was Tika, came up, "Are you going to keep her standing here, Caramon, or shall I take her up to our place and let her put her things down?"
Caramon flushed and nodded, "Yeah, sorry. I was just introducing her to the rest of the companions. I can take her there now." He took the bag Ari was carrying and motioned her to follow. She grimaced as he traveled a series of rope bridges across the way to a small house.
Once inside, he led her past the kitchen to a hall and then into a room on the left.
"Here it is," he told her, "Tika and I are across the hall from you. For a couple nights Raistlin will be in the room next to you then he goes back to his own place."
"Where's that?" Ari asked conversationally, dropping her backpack on the bed and rummaging through it.
"Tower of High Sorcery."
"He's not well liked, is he?" she asked, feeling his cold tone.
Caramon shook his head, "No, he's hard to like. I love him, though. Even if he's changed so much, he's still my little brother."
Ari nodded, "I've got people like that. Where I come from people are scared to death of them, so well-liked or not, they are respected."
"Yeah, it's like that here. Everyone's scared of Raist, and for good reason; he's done some pretty awful things." The large man paused, arms folded, lost in thought.
Ari touched his arm tentatively, "Hey, I'm sorry for asking. Are you all right?"
A smile touched his lips, "Yeah, I'm just re-living things. Come on, I'm hungry." With that they left they house and made their way back to the Inn. They entered just as Tika was setting out dinner for everyone. Caramon caught her up as she set the last plate down, kidding her neck and mouth affectionately. Tika slipped out of his embrace, playfully slapping him out of the way.
He sat down, across from his brother, flashing him a grin. Caramon turned to his wife. "You'll be with us tomorrow, telling the story, won't you?"
She paused, wiping her hands on her apron, "Hmm?"
"Ari wants us to tell the story of the War of the Lance. It's for the mural."
"Oh... hmm... yes, I suppose I will. I'll get one of the girls to help me out."
Tika nodded, then motioned to a chair at the end of the table, between the twins, "Ariana, here's a place for you. Are you hungry?"
Ariana shook her head, "No, could I have a cup of hot water, though?"
"So, where's Delaware?" Tas asked, "Do they dress funny like you do there?"
"Um... it depends upon who you are and what you do for work. Clothes supposedly show you individualism, but it's hard to believe that when all the clothing stores encourage you to 'be yourself, dress like these people'. What I'm wearing right now was popular... like thirty years ago. It's making a comeback supposedly. It was an attempt to blend in a little, but it didn't quite work. It's better than some of my medieval things that I had-they looked mostly like dress-up clothes. And Delaware..." she gave a slight wince before continuing on, "isonthecontinentofNorthAmericaontheplanetEarth."
AN: Okay, this is a Mary Ann or Sue Beth or whatever bleeding backwater/mid-west name you give these things, for those of you who like to know ahead of time what you are getting yourselves into. It does attempt at a plot though (small raw turnipy-thing waves an under-developed arm). The whole reason for this (flourishes hand vaguely) is to give my character a beginning because I just started writing these fanfics that are lying in my room (somewhere) and my good friend pointed out that we never knew how I ended up with Raistlin... it just happened... like magic (groans at pun and slaps forehead). Eventually, there is a Pretender theme that drifts in, but not until later. So there you have it... read on and please review so I can know if I should continue typing this or leave it written and unfinished in my notebook.
Chapter 1: Delaware
Ariana looked at the kender in front of her apprehensively. He was, and had been, talking incessantly for the past few minutes about how fantastic it had been when her grandfather had dematerialized. So this was her uncle, her father's half-brother. Actually, she pondered, was he really her uncle or was it half-uncle, or did it not even count? At any rate, she would call him 'uncle' because that just made everything a whole lot easier. She realized suddenly that the kender had stopped talking and was looking expectantly at her, as if waiting for her to answer.
Frantically, she thought back to what he had said... something about going now to meet the friends of his... "Yes," she told him, hoping she had given him the answer he was looking for.
A grin split his face, "Alright!" He tugged her off, down the road, babbling on about the people she was to meet. She tried to listen, but she was nervous and he was talking awfully fast. Almost as fast as a gnome, she considered, then took it back. Gnomes slurred everything together; all this kender was doing was skipping from one topic to another. Within five minutes they reached the enormous trees they'd been going towards. The sun was getting lower in the sky and lit everything up in one final hurrah of the day. She glanced up and realized that their destination was surely in the treetops, for not a house was seen on the ground. Great spiraling staircases wound around the large tree trunks and rope bridges connected the trees into a large web-like network. Ariana shuddered. The height of this town was terrifying.
The kender in front of her, whose name she remembered was Tasselhoff, began to climb up the stairway of one of the huge trees. With a wince, she followed, trying her best not to look down between the spaces of each step; she'd never managed to get over her childhood fear of slipping between the cracks, no matter that this was improbable.
Ari and Tas were out of breath half way up and wheezing by the time they reached the top. They paused for a moment, to regain their breath, before stepping into the open doorway of the Inn of the Last Home, as the establishment was called.
Immediately Tas waived his hands in a hello, dashing towards a large, robust man. "Caramon!" he squeaked, hugging the man around the middle. "See? I've brought her! It's my half-niece that I told you about and that you were interested in to paint that mural on the inn wall? Right? Well, she's here now! Finally! Even though I guess it didn't take that long." Tasselhoff let go and gestured for Ariana to come over.
Ari timidly approached the two. "Hi," she greeted softly, "Um, your steps are broken. You can see between them to the ground. Maybe you should look into getting them fixed."
Caramon gave her a puzzled look before laughing at what he thought to be a joke. He extended his hand, "My name's Caramon Majere."
"Ariana Green," she returned, taking his hand gingerly and wincing as he pumped her hand, nearly dislocating her shoulder.
"Let me introduce my friends. We are the ones to be painted in the mural-Tas did tell you about it, right?" At her assent, he led her to a table surrounded by a group. "This is Tanis, Laurana, Goldmoon, Riverwind, Raistlin, my twin, and my wife is the beautiful red-head serving the patrons. Friends, this is Ariana."
"Where are the others? Weren't there... three more?" Ari asked, scanning the group.
The Companions shot each other glances. "Well," the bearded man called Tanis began, "There were. But two... died, and the third betrayed our company."
"I want to hear the story. All of it. How you met, what happened to make you so famous, how your companions died and how you were betrayed. I need to hear this to know you."
"It's a long, long story," Goldmoon warned, eyes shifting to Tanis.
Tanis, the half-elf nodded, "Right. You wouldn't want to hear it."
Ariana looked searchingly at the group. She could feel the sorrow and dark emotions seeping from them. "You've never told it before, have you? You haven't even spoken of it much in passing between yourselves and not to anyone else. The triumph and the hurt, especially the hurt, is still too fresh."
Laurana frowned, "Are you reading our minds?"
"Just your hearts," Ari whispered, "So do I get to hear the story or do I go home?"
The group looked around at each other. A few shrugged, others looked to Tanis, the unofficial leader. "I for one," he began, "would like to get this off my chest. No one knows what really happened other than us-and some of us don't even know the whole story."
"We need to put Sturm and Flint to rest," added Goldmoon, "I would like to do it this way."
"Yes, once we speak about it, things will seem a little better. It will become easier to tell people about," consented Laurana, the elf woman.
"It's a take better told in daylight hours," hissed Raistlin, the thin mage, from his corner. "Why don't we save it for tomorrow?"
Caramon nodded, always agreeable, "Besides-it's dinnertime!" he turned to Ariana, "You'll eat with us?"
She shook her head, "I've already eaten, it's a lot earlier where I'm from. Which is why I've come so late in the day. Grandpa didn't remember the time difference."
Laurana's brow creased slightly, "Where are you from?"
"Delaware," Ari answered, squirming slightly. She wasn't sure how much she should tell them. Grandpa hadn't instructed her in any way to deal with questions-which meant that there weren't specific instructions not to tell them anything. She just didn't want to tell them something she shouldn't have and get yelled at later.
She was saved from further explaining when, who she assumed was Tika, came up, "Are you going to keep her standing here, Caramon, or shall I take her up to our place and let her put her things down?"
Caramon flushed and nodded, "Yeah, sorry. I was just introducing her to the rest of the companions. I can take her there now." He took the bag Ari was carrying and motioned her to follow. She grimaced as he traveled a series of rope bridges across the way to a small house.
Once inside, he led her past the kitchen to a hall and then into a room on the left.
"Here it is," he told her, "Tika and I are across the hall from you. For a couple nights Raistlin will be in the room next to you then he goes back to his own place."
"Where's that?" Ari asked conversationally, dropping her backpack on the bed and rummaging through it.
"Tower of High Sorcery."
"He's not well liked, is he?" she asked, feeling his cold tone.
Caramon shook his head, "No, he's hard to like. I love him, though. Even if he's changed so much, he's still my little brother."
Ari nodded, "I've got people like that. Where I come from people are scared to death of them, so well-liked or not, they are respected."
"Yeah, it's like that here. Everyone's scared of Raist, and for good reason; he's done some pretty awful things." The large man paused, arms folded, lost in thought.
Ari touched his arm tentatively, "Hey, I'm sorry for asking. Are you all right?"
A smile touched his lips, "Yeah, I'm just re-living things. Come on, I'm hungry." With that they left they house and made their way back to the Inn. They entered just as Tika was setting out dinner for everyone. Caramon caught her up as she set the last plate down, kidding her neck and mouth affectionately. Tika slipped out of his embrace, playfully slapping him out of the way.
He sat down, across from his brother, flashing him a grin. Caramon turned to his wife. "You'll be with us tomorrow, telling the story, won't you?"
She paused, wiping her hands on her apron, "Hmm?"
"Ari wants us to tell the story of the War of the Lance. It's for the mural."
"Oh... hmm... yes, I suppose I will. I'll get one of the girls to help me out."
Tika nodded, then motioned to a chair at the end of the table, between the twins, "Ariana, here's a place for you. Are you hungry?"
Ariana shook her head, "No, could I have a cup of hot water, though?"
"So, where's Delaware?" Tas asked, "Do they dress funny like you do there?"
"Um... it depends upon who you are and what you do for work. Clothes supposedly show you individualism, but it's hard to believe that when all the clothing stores encourage you to 'be yourself, dress like these people'. What I'm wearing right now was popular... like thirty years ago. It's making a comeback supposedly. It was an attempt to blend in a little, but it didn't quite work. It's better than some of my medieval things that I had-they looked mostly like dress-up clothes. And Delaware..." she gave a slight wince before continuing on, "isonthecontinentofNorthAmericaontheplanetEarth."