From: Kit Reece [email protected]
Date: Fri Jan 15, 1999 9:41pm
Subject: Short story
Hello all! I've had the basic idea for this for a while, but just now
got it together...like an hour ago.
And I just found and signed up for this list yesterday, so....:) Anyway,
-this is one of my first fanfics, and the only one ever to be seen by
anyone but me.- In other words, it's a little rough.
You've had your warning! ;)
OH! AND I NO LITTLE to no Japenese! I'm sorry! :$
If someone wants to correct any mis-usages, I'd be Really Grateful!
Thanks!
***READ***
This revolves around the fact that Folken, although upset about it,
does indeed have to slay the dragon and succeeds...thereby making
-him- King at age fifteen, and so Varie lives, too.
I'm messing with their personalities some, so they're less serious and
generally happier. Plus I'm a Van-Folken fan who never saw eps 1-7
(growl,) so I'm making myself happy, here. :)
I'm also assuming some stuff about said personalities too, due to the
different scenario. But they're not bad assumptions, I promise! :) :) :)
THIS IS A character piece with little plot, just some fun musing on my
part and hints at brotherly love. :)
Okay, enough! I promise not to write so much next time!
****
Disclaimer: You know everything I'm going to say, but..."Tenkuu No
Escaflowne" and all characters, likenesses, settings, and basically
everything in the story except the actual typeface is copyrighted to
Sunrise Pictures, Bandai, and anyone else who holds legal rights to
them. I'm just messing with them because I -love- them, so don't sue
me, please. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. :)
Okay, here it is after all that:
The day was hot, -very- hot, as the sun approached it's zenith.
Drops of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, causing Folken to
shiver occasionally from the tickling sensation. Still, he mused
contentedly, well worth it. He paused to listen to the gentle upper
level breeze rustle the forest, the tinkling sound of the evergreens
dropping their needles in the heat, a few singing birds, and...quiet.
-So- much better than a day spent inside the castle. It was peaceful
out here, still and gentle compared to the rush of paper and
decisions, trade agreements and financial plans that were all brought
to his attention at the exact moment he decided to finally step
outside for breath of fresh air. His mother tried to help, sifting
through documents and such, but many required him to decide upon
issues and seal them, something his advisors frowned upon his Ryuujin
mother doing. Damn them, anyway.
Yes, it was relatively still out here, ... and so peaceful....
"Folken-sama!"
He smiled wryly; perhaps not -too- peaceful, but then, he could
always enjoy the company that voice brought.
His smile widened as he caught a glimpse of his ten year old brother,
midnight black hair bouncing wildly about as he bounded from stone to
stone on the path that led to the outskirts of the garden.
As Van caught sight of him, he rounded a corner and came skidding
to a stop on the loose gravel and dirt to stand smiling up at his
taller brother. "There you are, Folken-sama!"
"What about Ani-ue, Van? Or even just Folken is fine, you know."
From under the thick shock of hair came the nearly maroon, slightly
puzzled, gaze. "But you're the King, Folken-sama. It's proper and
respectful to call you that. Don't you want that respect? I can't call
you just Folken anymore!"
The King, as it were, opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it
knowing his persuasion was useless. It hadn't worked the last five
years, and it probably never would. "What is it, Van?"
His face, which had still been contemplating his brother's strange
request solemnly, brightened at the memory of why he was there. "I'm
going to go out and ride Deka! Want to come?"
Folken noticed he asked rather non-chalantly, but he read a rather
hopeful, pleading expression in Van's dark eyes. He sighed.
"Horseback riding? Aren't you supposed to be studying with your tutor
right now?"
His younger brother wrinkled his nose in distaste along with making
a face. "Evias is in some sort of meeting and won't be teaching me
today." He paused. "I don't see why I have to learn some of that stuff
anyway; if I have a question, I just come and ask you," he shrugged.
"You know just about everything." The wrinkles had disappeared,
replaced by a guileless pose at his satisfactory answer. "So will you
come with me?"
"Don't try to sucker me, Van. I'm busy."
"With what? What are you doing anyway?" Warily he eyed the strange
clippers in Folken's hands.
Breaking into a lopsided grin at an idea, he tossed the gardening
shears he had improved upon to his brother. "I gave the gardener the
day off; this is very relaxing, you know."
Van caught them, the light of realization slowly spreading across
his features.
"Oh no!" He shook his head.
"C'mon Van, it'll be good for you!"
"No way! Whatever everyone else thinks will be good for me always ends
up being lousy!"
Folken again opened his mouth to protest, and once again shut it. He
had to admit, he couldn't really argue with that one.
"We'll get to spend some time together," he ventured.
Van stopped griping in mid-sentence, his mouth still open
thoughtfully. He hesitated; since his brother had become King, he'd
been able to spend less and less time with him. It seemed some royal
duty was always swallowing up whatever free time Folken had.
Sighing, he grudgingly snapped the shears open and shut a few times.
"O.K. How do I chop these things?"
Folken winced and smiled at the same time. "Not -chop-, Van. Prune."
"Okay, then -prune!-" he mocked and snorted. "So how do I -prune- the
little things. Vargas uses them for targets, you know."
Folken winced again. "Van, these are delicate plants, not 'targets.'
You're not using a sword on them, and you -do not- chop, hack, or
swipe at them, understand?"
"But Vargas-"
"Ignore Vargas! You know why the he and the gardener hate each other
so much?"
"Oh." He grumbled a little heavenwards, blowing up to clear his eyes
of their ever-present bangs. They fluttered a bit, then came down to
rest in the exact same position, bringing more hair with them and
instigating Folken's chuckling.
Van groaned at the soft laughter and turned to the nearest bush,
shears open. "I wish my hair would stay up like yours."
Folken turned back to the tree he'd been tending and picked up a
trowel, listening to the sporadic and obviously unsure "clip-clip" of
the shears behind him. After a few minutes, the sound stopped, and
Folken turned to check on his brother's progress.
He dropped the trowel.
His mouth hung open; Van, with leaves and sticks in his hair and
poking out from various places in his clothing, stood grinning beside
a badly mangled group of sticks and a few shredded leaves that would,
Folken surmised grimly, not live to see the morning. A small squeak
escaped him, and a sigh, but nothing else.
Van's triumphant grin began to fade. "What?"
"Van,...perhaps you'd better go see if Vargas needs your help. Or
maybe Evias was released from his meeting early-"
Folken watched as his still short brother raised himself up to his
full height, glaring at him from beneath his unruly black hair,
complete with plant debris. A scowl darkened his features.
"It's not -that- bad!"
The action made him look all the more childish,...and all the more
endearing. In fact, it took all of his practiced self-composure not to
laugh out loud.
(More in following mail.)
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