A/N: Anastasia: Glad to be of service ... ;)

Valura: LOL I love reviews like that one...

Dally: The bunnies! Beware of the bunnies... We all have to hide, or they will get u-...err... yes...

Ahn-Li: Oops. But Dalamar was also referring to the Paladine-prayer-incident. For somebody who is supposed to follow Nuitari if ever, everything not evil seems to be too good to be worshipped. However, you are right and I'll try to change that part.

Chickens: Thanks.

Guan: Glad you liked it. Maybe Dally and I can manage further "Behind the scenes" parts from time to time, though this one was spontaneous.

I hope you enjoy part 19 - and say bye to Dalamar and Nima, next chapters will give priority to Raistlin again.

Onward...

Part 19 - These Boots are Made for Walking

To Dalamar's relief, the next days of travel passed by without his master drinking himself into near-unconsciousness again or getting ripped to pieces by his own mount. The latter had nearly happened once when Raistlin had attempted to feed his Noxequus with a carrot. Even after a week his master stubbornly refused to accept the obvious fact that the abyssal beings were not for petting. The elf just didn't want to know what Raistlin, in his recent condition, would do if they should by chance meet harpies. Somehow Dalamar was sure the phrase "How cute." would have something to do with it. But neither the hypothetical dangers of the journey nor the fact that he occasionally spotted another beholder following them in a distance just out of spell casting range didn't bother him as much as his Shalafi's lunatic state of mind. He had the feeling, the longer they travelled together, the more his Shalafi opened up and the worse things got. In one moment of outspoken emotional leisure, Raistlin had frankly uttered the elusive idea of him and Dalamar getting themselves reputations as local heroes. Moreover, Raistlin had held his apprentice a speech about their obligation of helping the poor, defending the weak, doing good deeds and the greatness of adventuring in general. He had found the dark elf at a loss of words. Adding to the situations absurdness, Raistlin didn't confine himself to verbalizing his urge to go on adventures, he literally jumped to every opportunity to do so. Unfortunately Raistlin's erratic behavior effectively undermined Dalamar's intent on attracting as less attention as possible.

Two nights ago they had spent the night in a village near the main-road. Riding nearer to it they had seen thick smoke ascending from a barn and the smell of burning wood had hung in midair. They had sped up and arrived just in time to face a gathering crowd and the desperate screams of unlucky peasants who had been trapped in the attic while forking the mowed hay. Raistlin had without thinking tried to enter the house in a hopeless attempt to help the encased. This had resulted in a severe coughing fit as soon as smoke had invaded the mage's frail lungs. The only way to prevent Raistlin from risking his life further had been for Dalamar to levitate the peasants out of the attic window. With a second spell invoking rain, the Elven mage had stifled the flames.

Of course afterwards, they had been the heroes of the day and their involvement in the issue had earned them the occupation of the guest-room in the house of the village eldest and the best food the peasants had to offer. The people had stared at their saviors in awe whenever they had encountered both mages afterwards. Most disturbingly, Dalamar had seen the same awe and admiration in his master's golden eyes, too.

"You are ingenious!" Raistlin had stated directly after he had recovered from his cough.

In a certain way, Dalamar deplored that the only full-hearted praise he had ever gotten from his Shalafi had been given in a state of absolute mental disorder.

Though not showing the tiniest hint of his contemplations on the outside Dalamar had since then started to wonder if what he experienced now was the real Raistlin. A person that had been buried under a shell as hard as marble. His master was practically a new man.

Somebody incredibly curious for the wonders of the world that he had seemed to despise to the deepest extent only a week before. Now there was a stranger with an innocence that was unbelievable in someone who had been capable of killing a man without a moment's hesitation. How could a single drain on his Shalafi's memory have caused such a crucial, intrinsic change like this? If these were emotions and longings Raistlin had hidden all the time, then how had he ever been able to choose the black robe?

But, if it hadn't been part of him before, how could he develop a new personality so quickly? Dalamar shuddered in his contemplations. Raistlin would not have been the first wizard who fell prey to madness. Didn't they, who had chosen the dark side of road, all walk the thin line between genius and insanity? Maybe you never realized the alluring trap before you were caught in it. How much pain could a soul bear without breaking? Had it just taken one spell too much to turn the switch? And if it was like this and Raistlin had gone over the edge, how could he, Dalamar, ensure that he didn't share his master's fate? At their level a wizard either sold his soul to magic or he never truly achieved full mastery. Dalamar had always known the risks and he had taken them willingly. As well as Raistlin had. And the dark elf had truly believed that if anybody in the world was to control the forces of magic it had to be Raistlin. If anybody could sacrifice everything for power and still come up on top in the end, it was Raistlin. That was one of the reasons why he adored this callous man whose heart had seemed to be colder than ice. Had Raistlin sacrificed too much now? How high was the price anyway? Had they been arrogant to believe they could meddle with powers that only belonged to the gods? And now the gods punished Raistlin for his arrogance? Had the prince of darkness fallen from his throne?

Still, if it was a punishment from the gods, it didn't look like a punishment at all. Most of the time during their journey, Raistlin had appeared to be cheerful and happy.

If anybody had told Dalamar a week ago that his master was even capable of such simple feelings, he would have laughed right into his face, before smiting him down for the insult on his Shalafi's personality. Now he didn't know what to think anymore.

And if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit something else. Actually he appreciated the admiration of these simple peasants in a certain respect. Somehow, being not the feared, hated outcast but their hero, gave his lonely soul a kind of satisfaction he could only regard as sentimental. Sentimental or not, it was there, still. Dalamar would rather die before letting anybody know how he felt, but he observed that his Shalafi shared these feelings. Raistlin didn't even bother to hide them. He quite openly relished in the wave of sympathy that carried them.

"Isn't it great to have saved the day?"

Raistlin had asked his apprentice rather exited before going to sleep that night.

Nevertheless, they had travelled on the next day. Much to Raistlin's disappointment.

But still, when they left the village behind, Dalamar knew, his troubling thoughts could not be banished out of his mind as easily as the huts disappeared from his sight The young elf's world had been turned upside down. Disorder had been brought into what had seemed clear and true before. And even two days later, several unanswered questions hung in the air and Dalamar couldn't find a way to put them to rest.