Post by Seek on Apr 14, 2013 6:01:27 GMT 10
Title: Strange Land
Rating: PG
Word Count: 667 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: AU, crossover with Narnia. Alanna and Jon are pulled into a strange land. Father Christmas has gifts for them.
Warnings: None.
-
"My name," said the old man bearing the sack, "Is Father Christmas. In your world, villagers would talk about the Midwinter Man. And I have gifts for the two of you." He glanced directly at her; his eyes were a sharp, piercing blue. They were the pale translucent blue of the sky through thin ice, rather than the clear Conte blue of Jon's eyes. "Alanna of Trebond," Father Christmas said.
"How do you know?" Alanna managed, startled. She glanced down at her clothing; but she was simply in a page's practice clothes. There was nothing in the nondescript breeches or shirt that said anything about her secret. The old man smiled.
"My dear Alanna," he said, "There isn't much you can hide from Father Christmas. Now, Alanna of Trebond, the girl who wants to become a knight, I give you this sword." He handed her a sheathed sword, in a dark leather scabbard, on a baldric. Alanna accepted it with trembling hands--she hadn't brought Lightning with her, despite being expected to wear the sword at all times--and this was far better than a blunted practice sword. She drew it; it slipped forth from the scabbard, as easy as breathing. It was beautiful, and the blade was battered and scratched, but nonetheless polished to a mirror brightness, with a sheen of faint blue in the steel. A worn amethyst was set into the pommel, Alanna noticed, cut so that it seemed to burn with an inner fire. "This sword is named Ageless," Father Christmas said, "Because it was forged in the depths of Bism at the very beginning of Narnia. It has been borne by many a hero over the ages in Narnia. Wield it well, Alanna of Trebond. You will find, I think, that in some respects, this blade is very much like your Lightning."
Alanna whispered, "Thank you, sir," and sheathed Ageless. Jon was frowning.
"What do you mean that it's very much like Lightning?"
"The sword has its own power," Father Christmas replied, and this time he was addressing Alanna, "And much will hinge on your learning to wield the sword's powers before the next year is out."
Alanna swallowed. She hated magic, but nonetheless, she replied, "I understand."
"I have another gift for you," he said. He pulled out a shield from his sack; bright, reflective silver, with a scarlet lion rampant on it. "This shield has no virtue except in the arm that wields it. You are the sword and shield of your friend here, Alanna of Trebond. Bear them well and with honour."
"I will," she whispered. Father Christmas turned to Jon. "I, too, have gifts for you, Jonathan of Conte, Prince of Tortall."
Jon stood, rapt. "How did you know?" he whispered, echoing Alanna's earlier words.
"I know," Father Christmas smiled. "I always do." He pulled out a carved horn from his sack. "This gift comes not without peril," he said, sternly. "Blow this horn only once, in the moment of greatest danger. It was fashioned from bone by one of the oldest craftsmen in Narnia, a centaur long gone mad from his visions." Jon shivered as he accepted the horn.
"And then?"
"You'll know," Father Christmas said. "When the need is upon you. Now, I give you a stone." He handed Jon a fine silver chain, from which a sapphire dangled, shaped like a crystal. "May it be a light to you in the dark places you must travel. You will find," he added, "That your Gifts do not work very well, if at all in Narnia. You are in a different world now, with its own rules."
Alanna and Jon exchanged glances. "Thank you," they both said.
"It is a long road you will travel," Father Christmas said, "And the Lion watches over you. Farewell, children; we won't meet again. I hope that your gifts will serve you well." And then he climbed onto his sleigh, whipped the reins, and was gone in a matter of seconds.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 667 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: AU, crossover with Narnia. Alanna and Jon are pulled into a strange land. Father Christmas has gifts for them.
Warnings: None.
-
"My name," said the old man bearing the sack, "Is Father Christmas. In your world, villagers would talk about the Midwinter Man. And I have gifts for the two of you." He glanced directly at her; his eyes were a sharp, piercing blue. They were the pale translucent blue of the sky through thin ice, rather than the clear Conte blue of Jon's eyes. "Alanna of Trebond," Father Christmas said.
"How do you know?" Alanna managed, startled. She glanced down at her clothing; but she was simply in a page's practice clothes. There was nothing in the nondescript breeches or shirt that said anything about her secret. The old man smiled.
"My dear Alanna," he said, "There isn't much you can hide from Father Christmas. Now, Alanna of Trebond, the girl who wants to become a knight, I give you this sword." He handed her a sheathed sword, in a dark leather scabbard, on a baldric. Alanna accepted it with trembling hands--she hadn't brought Lightning with her, despite being expected to wear the sword at all times--and this was far better than a blunted practice sword. She drew it; it slipped forth from the scabbard, as easy as breathing. It was beautiful, and the blade was battered and scratched, but nonetheless polished to a mirror brightness, with a sheen of faint blue in the steel. A worn amethyst was set into the pommel, Alanna noticed, cut so that it seemed to burn with an inner fire. "This sword is named Ageless," Father Christmas said, "Because it was forged in the depths of Bism at the very beginning of Narnia. It has been borne by many a hero over the ages in Narnia. Wield it well, Alanna of Trebond. You will find, I think, that in some respects, this blade is very much like your Lightning."
Alanna whispered, "Thank you, sir," and sheathed Ageless. Jon was frowning.
"What do you mean that it's very much like Lightning?"
"The sword has its own power," Father Christmas replied, and this time he was addressing Alanna, "And much will hinge on your learning to wield the sword's powers before the next year is out."
Alanna swallowed. She hated magic, but nonetheless, she replied, "I understand."
"I have another gift for you," he said. He pulled out a shield from his sack; bright, reflective silver, with a scarlet lion rampant on it. "This shield has no virtue except in the arm that wields it. You are the sword and shield of your friend here, Alanna of Trebond. Bear them well and with honour."
"I will," she whispered. Father Christmas turned to Jon. "I, too, have gifts for you, Jonathan of Conte, Prince of Tortall."
Jon stood, rapt. "How did you know?" he whispered, echoing Alanna's earlier words.
"I know," Father Christmas smiled. "I always do." He pulled out a carved horn from his sack. "This gift comes not without peril," he said, sternly. "Blow this horn only once, in the moment of greatest danger. It was fashioned from bone by one of the oldest craftsmen in Narnia, a centaur long gone mad from his visions." Jon shivered as he accepted the horn.
"And then?"
"You'll know," Father Christmas said. "When the need is upon you. Now, I give you a stone." He handed Jon a fine silver chain, from which a sapphire dangled, shaped like a crystal. "May it be a light to you in the dark places you must travel. You will find," he added, "That your Gifts do not work very well, if at all in Narnia. You are in a different world now, with its own rules."
Alanna and Jon exchanged glances. "Thank you," they both said.
"It is a long road you will travel," Father Christmas said, "And the Lion watches over you. Farewell, children; we won't meet again. I hope that your gifts will serve you well." And then he climbed onto his sleigh, whipped the reins, and was gone in a matter of seconds.