For her alone Chapter 2, a national treasure fanfic

Celebwen Telcontar: Well, this is my newest installment in my National Treasure fic. It will explain a bit about the song and why they sing it. I hope you like it.

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The harsh electric light caused the young woman to squint against her paper as she made the last few lines around the eye of the dragon. She then looked at the bird's eye view of the beast, and marked in the short, stiff hairs used for the mane and a few over the eyes for eyelashes. The eyeholes were left purposefully open for a pair of rubies to fill after the beast was created. She quickly pulled a couple of veins over the wings, and put a slight leathery texture on the wings. Each scale was meticulously drawn in, the shading for the texture making it seem to jump off of the page. She put in the loop for the chain on the wings, making it look like part of the uplifting wings that connected to form a loop for the chain to pass through. She passed the paper to Joseph, her employee, who immediately set out to make the lost-wax model before casting it.

"Your birthday is in a few days, right?" Joseph asked, filing the lost-wax block to roughly the same shape overall as the dragon was.

"Next week."

"How're you celebrating it?"

"I don't know. A few friends, not much else. My sister, a couple close friends, and my high school sweetheart, but that's about it."

"Ben's going to be there?"

"No. My sweetheart from England, not that obsessed-with-treasure blockhead. I only went out with Ben because Mary set us up."

"Your little sister set a date for you?"

"And I knew she thought I hung the moon, so how could I refuse?"

"I don't suppose you could. She is a beautiful woman, much like you."

"Stop flirting."

"But I'm not flirting!"

"As a matter of fact you are. And I don't appreciate it." Martha grabbed another sheet of paper and began to draw a cat sniffing the ground, whiskers extended and ears pricked. She shaded in the individual hairs, bringing the tail down to almost brush the ground before sweeping up again.

"Well, I suppose I ought to wish you a happy birthday."

"A birthday is just another day, only one where I grow a year older. A year closer to having wrinkles and white hair."

"Don't think like that!"

"And why not? It's true."

"You're too much of a cynic."

"Stop it." Martha crumbled the cat up and tossed it in the waste-paper basket, then grabbed another sheet of paper and began to draw a grand bell. On the side, she sketched in an inscription that would be raised in relief. She finished it off with a massive crack on one side, and with the impression that it should be able to ring, even with the crack.

"You want me to cast a miniature of the Liberty Bell? I don't know if I'm that talented. Pass and Stow were, but that's beside the point."

"Pass and Stow are dead. You'll have to do."

"Great. Next you'll have me do a representation of the Declaration of Independence."

"You know, that might not be such a bad idea."

"I can't do things parchment thin!"

"I was just joking!"

"Like you ever joke." He kept filing away the belly of the dragon she had set him to, and cursed as he came too close to the wing joint.

"Don't mess up. Or you'll have to start all over."

"Shush." Joseph filed around the legs and tail before going to work of the still rather blocky neck and the head.

"Well, I expect those two castings done when I come in next on Wednesday, and I'll have some new drawings for you to work on."

"What are they going to be?"

"I don't know. Maybe the Old North Church."

"Complete with three horseback riders, I presume?" Joseph asked. He sounded slightly depressed, because he knew his skills weren't that good.

"No. Just the church. Maybe Liberty Hall, as well."

"To scale with the Bell?"

"No. Smaller. If it was to scale to the Liberty Bell, the Hall would be ten feet high. I don't think you have a lost-wax block that big."

"You're right. I don't. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joseph." Martha went outside with her light jacket on to ward off the wind, bearing some pencils and a ream of paper. She got to her car, opened it and put in the supplies before fishing for her cell phone and calling Ian.

"Martha! How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good. What's your flight and when does it come in? I'll pick you up."

"Frontier Airlines, flight 10. It comes in at Gate G in theSeattle International Airport. Five pm, your time. I'm coming day after tomorrow."

"Good. I'll see you there. I love you."

"I love you too, Martha."

"Hey, there's a Baroque concert a week after the party. Do you want to stay to go there with me?"

"Sure. Sounds great. I'll be there."

"Good. See you in two days."

"See you. I love you."

"You too. Bye."

"Bye." She heard the telltale click as he put the phone in the cradle, and she turned off the cell phone.

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Mary hit the switch for the electric mixer and slowly mixed in the egg mixture, the cake mix quickly becoming as it should look. She greased the back and sides of the pair of eight-inch aluminum round cake pans, and then flipped the speed from low to medium. She then noticed that she had forgotten to preheat the oven. As she was doing that, she remembered that she had forgotten to add the half-cup vegetable oil. She quickly added the oil, then let the mixer beat for another two minutes and began to make the frosting. The oven beeped to say that it was preheated to 350°, and she poured the cake mix into the pans.

"Let me take over, dear. You know you can't make a cake to save your life," her mother said, finishing the frosting.

"It was interesting to see how much she has learned about the art of cake making," Martha commented.

"Yes, I know, Martha. But Mother is better at making cakes than me."

"I decorate cakes, Mary. But I can make cakes from a recipe well enough. Now, Martha, why don't you go and help that nice boyfriend of yours settle in? He's going to stay here the week and go to the Handel concert, isn't he?"

"Yes, Ian is going to go see the concert with us."

"Will you have an extra guest room? I could use a place to put the unwrapped presents," Mary said innocently. It didn't fool Martha a bit.

"If you and Mother move into one room. I don't have a spare guest room otherwise."

"But I thought you and your boyfriend are going to use one room," Mary replied.

"Mary Rachel Morenci!" Elizabeth barked. Martha blushed, her eyes flashing, and Mary had the grace to look properly chastised, then she went out, muttering about getting the presents properly wrapped. Martha went out to the car to go to the airport to get Ian.

She cleared out her car, putting the emergency stuff in the trunk, saving as much space as she could. Then, she got into the car and drove off.

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Ian stepped off the plane's walkway, and immediately saw Martha standing there, waving to him. He walked over and kissed her gently, before smiling at her and she led him to the luggage retrieval.

"How was your trip?" she asked.

"It was well enough. I've missed you, Martha." He stroked her black hair and brushed his fingers against her cheek. "You're just as beautiful as always..." He trailed off, and she smiled at him.

"I've missed you too." He slung an arm around her shoulders and held her close to him, while she thought about how she would like to stay with him for the rest of her life. As her conscience had said last year, she didn't think marrying him would be a bad idea at all. She knew what she would say if he ever asked her. "Come on. Let's go to lunch. I know a nice place where we can get some good food."

She led the way to her car, towing his wheeled suitcase.

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As she finished off her lunch, he paid the bill, to her protests, and they stood. She led the way to a beautiful lake, where a gaggle of geese were diving and fishing for breadcrumbs as passerby tossed them into the lake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ian get something out of his pocket, and he turned to her, looking around. The audience they had was rather distracted, and he took her hand.

"Martha, I love you. I couldn't imagine a life without you in it. I...will...would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked quickly. Her eyes went wide as he displayed a beautiful ring of white gold with a fair sized diamond in the middle. She smiled and kissed him, putting the ring on her finger.

"Of course I will, Ian! I love you...I love you so much..." She trailed off as he kissed her, then picked her up and spun her around in his joy.

Applause reached their ears and the passerbies of the park were all looking at them, clapping, and smiling. Martha smiled and kissed her fiancé once more before they left for the car.

He opened the door for her, kissing her joyfully. The car phone jangled, and Martha picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Martha! Where on earth are you?! Lunch is getting stone cold!"

"I had lunch with Ian, Mary."

"You what?! Igo and makea special lunch for you, and you stand me up by going to lunch with Ian. He had better have taken care of you. And can I move my stuff into the spare guest room?"

"Maybe. I'll tell you once we return."

"Where in the name of Creation did you go? Mother is having a litter of kittens with worry, and the guests are all milling about here aimlessly!"

"Then I should have known about the guests and the lunch beforehand, shouldn't I have?"

"Alright. Come back here as soon as possible."

"Alright, alright!" She hung up and they got into the car. "Apparently my sister had made a good lunch for us and had some sort of surprise party."

"Then we'll just have to give her a surprise too, shall we?"

"Yes, we will." She kissed him and put the keys into the ignition, and started the car before driving to her home.

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"Mother, Mary, We're back!" Martha was grinning broadly as her mother and sister barreled over.

"What kept you?" Mary barked. Then, she saw the ring. "Oh my word! Martha! You took my advice! You're getting married!"

"That's right. I am marrying Ian."

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" Elizabeth gushed, hugging her daughter. "Welcome to the family, Ian. I've heard a lot about you, and hope that all the good things are true." Her father came over, and held out a massive hand to Ian.

"Welcome to the family, Ian. If you ever hurt our little Martha in any way, I'll have to hunt you down and decapitate you, you know. Well, now that that pleasant business is over, what do you say to some partying?" Zechariahs Chandler's sheer size seemed to overwhelm Ian for a moment. He was a black-haired behemoth of a man, about six foot six, and would tip the scales at two-seventy-five, all of it muscle. He looked like he could have made a professional quarterback no problem.

"Indeed, Mr. Chandler. And never fear, your axe will grow dull and rust off the handle before you can use it," Ian said. Zechariahs laughed heartily.

"I should hope so, son. And you are to call us Mother and Dad as you are in the family now. Martha, Lillian called, and John's in remission."

"He is? That's wonderful! I can't wait to see him!"

"He is doing better than he was."

"Thank the Lord that he's still with us."

"Amen. I'm glad he pulled through."

"Speaking of John, I haven't heard from Uncle Rick in a long time. How is he?" Mary asked. The group's faces went sad.

"Rick succumbed to the leukemia six months ago," Elizabeth answered.

"Son, before you ask, cancer runs in our blood. My brother died not too long ago, and my son, John, was just put into remission, which means that he can return to a semi-normal life, taking regular blood tests, and taking a whole slue of medications."

"Oh. I...I'm sorry. It seems a dim thing to say now, but...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"Nor would any of us. I come from a cancer-riddled family, Ian. What can I say?"

"You can't. I'll just have to adjust to the illness. But I would do that in a heartbeat to stay with you."

"So would I, if I had to." Martha leaned into her fiancé, and Zechariahs ordered them into the kitchen to have some cake to clear up the black mood. Then, the doorbell chimed, and Elizabeth got up to get the door.

"John! Lillian! You could come! Oh, John, you look so much better!"

"Mother, don't say that, I know better. I look like a concentration camp victim."

"Considering that last time I saw you, you were attached to so many machines and in an oxygen tent, I'd say that you do look better."

"Mother..."

"Mother, I think we should take our gifts in..."

"Oh, Lillian, I should tell you, Martha has a surprise for you!"

"Oh, she does, does she? Well, she should keep it to herself since it is her birthday."

"Oh, Lillian, don't be so pessimistic! I'm getting married, that's all."

"That's all?! Martha, we need to help you with the planning, then! Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I've told you about him. It's Ian Howe."

"Oh! Your British boyfriend! Of course! I almost forgot! I thought it would be Ben!"

"I see."

"Well, younglings, shall we begin the party? John, you did bring the guitar, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Lillian, as you know, plays the drums, and she brought over a portable set."

"Good. Elizabeth, I'll get the cymbals, and your violin. Mary, you have your violin and Kevin has his tambourine, right?"

"Yes. I'll get them. Oh, by the way, Moira is starting on the guitar as well."

"Ian, do you play any instruments?"

"I play the piano, but that's about it."

"Then we'll get a piano in England and one in the states. When we have a gathering, we'll just go there. You have a piano, right, Martha?"

"Downstairs. It came with the house. I'll go get the music for the song." Martha ran up and began to rifle through her drawers and found a copy of sheet music from when she was learning the song on guitar. She brought it downstairs, the music for guitar but she thought that since it had a piano accompaniment for it, she hoped Ian would be able to read it.

"Okay! Let's go down and sing! Ian, come along!" They tramped down the creaking old stairs to the basement, and it had a large grand piano in one room, in the very center. Large chairs were all around the room, and the family was soon settled in the chairs.

To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven.

A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal; a time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven.

A time to build up, a time to break down; a time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones; a time to gather stones together

To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven.

A time to love, a time of hate; a time of war, a time of peace

A time that you may embrace; a time to refrain from embracing

"To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven.

A time to gain, a time to loose; a time to rend, a time to sew

A time for love, a time for hate; a time for peace I swear it's not too late."

Ian finished the song with Martha, and the entire family had tears in their eyes. Lillian set down her drumsticks, and Mary and Elizabeth their bows. Moira smiled and set down her training guitar, and Martha leaned gently on Ian's shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. The family was smiling happily, and soon they went up to go open presents.

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Celebwen Telcontar: How did you like it? Was it good enough for you?

Balrog: Why didn't you make her get canph!

Celebwen Telcontar: (Holding hand over Balrog's mouth) I think you've had a little bit too much firewhiskey for today.

Balrog: Mubleshmagerumpharula!

Celebwen Telcontar: Uhhh…Yes, I'll take that as a compliment. Do you have anymore insightful comments to make at the moment, or can I hand you over to the press for today?

Balrog: Motreff! Motreff!!! Motreff, noo shoo fear nee?

Celebwen Telcontar: Oh, I'd best remove my hand, hadn't I?

Balrog: Reff! Ahhh, that's better! 'no press!' I hate the press, don't you remember? Stupid paparazzi.

Celebwen Telcontar: I'll have to reply with my own knowledge soon enough. Well, goodnight fair readers!! Happy reading!