Old Kingdom - Gift-Bringer
Late as usual. Long as usual. This ended up too long for a comment fic - sorry!
Title: Gift-Bringer
Fandom: Old Kingdom (Garth Nix novels)
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: ~ 700 words
Spoilers: Through Abhorsen.
Synopsis: Lirael is given a gift.
Author’s Notes: For morrigans_eve for fandom_stocking. Something Lirael-centric, though I did not pair her with anyone.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
“I made you something,” Sam said, barely looking up from his workbench as she entered the small room he spent more time in than his own appointed chambers. He gestured to a small bit of silken fabric tied with a ribbon the shade of red that reminded her of her old librarian robes from so long ago.
“Haven’t you gifted me with enough already?” Lirael asked. She stretched her golden hand, feeling the Charter symbols flow through and around her, part of her though still separate in their own right.
He stood and stretched and she swore she heard his back realigning with the movement. He picked up the bit of cloth and offered it to her, an odd sort of smile upon his features. “Open it?” he requested, as though her acceptance was a gift in itself. It was her birthday, the anniversary of the day she learned she would never see the future but would instead live in the past. She highly doubted anyone outside of the Clayr knew that though, unless one of her cousins dared to tell Sabriel or Touchstone and they passed the word down to their children.
She sat down on the offered chair and unwound the ribbon before she gently unfolded the fabric to reveal an intricate necklace wrought of what appeared to be silver and gold. The charm on the end was familiar, yet not, though she knew she had never seen anything like it before. “It’s beautiful,” she told him.
His smile grew, true and pure, and he eagerly reached over pressed one of the elaborate knots, revealing it to be a hidden clasp. Within lay a tiny pipe, carved like a miniature flute, prevented from catching the air whilst closed but gathering her breath now that it lay open. She lifted the charm to take a closer look and the gentle peal warmed her with its familiarity. “Ranna!” she exclaimed, easily avoiding its lull though giving in to the calm and relaxed feeling that overtook her.
“I thought about making it a bell, like on your bandolier, but then thought that if you couldn’t reach that you probably wouldn’t be able to reach one around your neck. Besides, this way all you need to do is blow a breath and it should sound. I mean, you would have to open it first, but if you did it right away, at the beginning of a fight, it should work fine,” Sameth babbled. “Mother tried it and assures me it rings true. It should be enough to, at the very least, distract the Dead long enough for you reach for something more powerful.”
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the more dire undertones of the gift and focusing instead on its beauty and the obvious care that went into creating it. It reminded her a bit of the whistle she wore in the library: present and useful and a true sign of her station.
Sam blushed and added, quieter now, “Mother also mentioned that she thought that you, like her, had trouble sleeping some nights. I thought that perhaps having your own personal Ranna close could help with that as well.”
She leaned over and kissed his temple, embarrassing him further. He never seemed sure that his creations would be accepted. He had no wish to rule, or to battle, but he aided those that did, even if they sometimes forgot to let him know how much his combinations of metal and magic had saved the day time and time again. “I shall wear it always,” she promised.
That night, alone in her chambers, she stared at the ceiling and could not help but remember her battles, both new and old. So often they played through her mind, turning the simplest of dreams into nightmares. It was part and parcel with her destiny, she supposed, but her new family so often reminded her that her life did not always need to be marred with the shadow of Death.
She held her hand before her, felt as much as watched the magic that flowed through it. With that same hand, she very carefully reached for the clasp of the locket, lips curled into a smile as she thought of what gifts Ranna may bring.
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/381983.html. Current comments
Title: Gift-Bringer
Fandom: Old Kingdom (Garth Nix novels)
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Length: ~ 700 words
Spoilers: Through Abhorsen.
Synopsis: Lirael is given a gift.
Author’s Notes: For morrigans_eve for fandom_stocking. Something Lirael-centric, though I did not pair her with anyone.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
“I made you something,” Sam said, barely looking up from his workbench as she entered the small room he spent more time in than his own appointed chambers. He gestured to a small bit of silken fabric tied with a ribbon the shade of red that reminded her of her old librarian robes from so long ago.
“Haven’t you gifted me with enough already?” Lirael asked. She stretched her golden hand, feeling the Charter symbols flow through and around her, part of her though still separate in their own right.
He stood and stretched and she swore she heard his back realigning with the movement. He picked up the bit of cloth and offered it to her, an odd sort of smile upon his features. “Open it?” he requested, as though her acceptance was a gift in itself. It was her birthday, the anniversary of the day she learned she would never see the future but would instead live in the past. She highly doubted anyone outside of the Clayr knew that though, unless one of her cousins dared to tell Sabriel or Touchstone and they passed the word down to their children.
She sat down on the offered chair and unwound the ribbon before she gently unfolded the fabric to reveal an intricate necklace wrought of what appeared to be silver and gold. The charm on the end was familiar, yet not, though she knew she had never seen anything like it before. “It’s beautiful,” she told him.
His smile grew, true and pure, and he eagerly reached over pressed one of the elaborate knots, revealing it to be a hidden clasp. Within lay a tiny pipe, carved like a miniature flute, prevented from catching the air whilst closed but gathering her breath now that it lay open. She lifted the charm to take a closer look and the gentle peal warmed her with its familiarity. “Ranna!” she exclaimed, easily avoiding its lull though giving in to the calm and relaxed feeling that overtook her.
“I thought about making it a bell, like on your bandolier, but then thought that if you couldn’t reach that you probably wouldn’t be able to reach one around your neck. Besides, this way all you need to do is blow a breath and it should sound. I mean, you would have to open it first, but if you did it right away, at the beginning of a fight, it should work fine,” Sameth babbled. “Mother tried it and assures me it rings true. It should be enough to, at the very least, distract the Dead long enough for you reach for something more powerful.”
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the more dire undertones of the gift and focusing instead on its beauty and the obvious care that went into creating it. It reminded her a bit of the whistle she wore in the library: present and useful and a true sign of her station.
Sam blushed and added, quieter now, “Mother also mentioned that she thought that you, like her, had trouble sleeping some nights. I thought that perhaps having your own personal Ranna close could help with that as well.”
She leaned over and kissed his temple, embarrassing him further. He never seemed sure that his creations would be accepted. He had no wish to rule, or to battle, but he aided those that did, even if they sometimes forgot to let him know how much his combinations of metal and magic had saved the day time and time again. “I shall wear it always,” she promised.
That night, alone in her chambers, she stared at the ceiling and could not help but remember her battles, both new and old. So often they played through her mind, turning the simplest of dreams into nightmares. It was part and parcel with her destiny, she supposed, but her new family so often reminded her that her life did not always need to be marred with the shadow of Death.
She held her hand before her, felt as much as watched the magic that flowed through it. With that same hand, she very carefully reached for the clasp of the locket, lips curled into a smile as she thought of what gifts Ranna may bring.
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/381983.html. Current comments