From: Kit Reece [email protected]
Date: Fri Jan 15, 1999 10:58pm
Subject: Rest of Short Story
Hi again! Of course, I'd just sent this off when I realized three
important things!
First, in my opening statement, I mis-spelled "know" with "no." Duh!
Oh well, just had to correct that. Second, my spacing is all messed
up. Sorry, I can't use my tab button, so I think I got lazy and just
skipped putting paragraph spaces in. But you can understand. ;)
Third, and most importantly,
-I forgot a title!-
I've never been good at titles, so anyone want to throw one to me?
Please?
Oh, my name is Kitt Reece, by the way. That's the name it's authored
under. I'll shut-up now!
Second mail of... -whatever-
By: read above. ;P
***
...and it took all of his practiced self-composure not to laugh out
loud.
"Okay Van," he tried again, licking his lips to come up with an
explanation that his brother would understand. "Think of the plant as
an opponent, only you want to simply disarm him, not...chop...him to
bits. On round bushes, you want to take slight cuts from each side, so
they're equal. On square ones, shave off the top and sides, alright?"
Slowly the glare too, disappeared, replaced by an optimistic
half-smile. Picking up the shears which he had dropped in frustration
earlier, Van turned to the next bush and dug into the work with a
concentrated expression.
Folken shuddered as his brother really did "dig" into his work, and
closed his eyes in sympathy for the Darnak Bush that was currently
being employed as the victim for Van's "attentions."
He couldn't help but smile again, however, as he watched the
determined and concentrated look beneath the sweat-sticky bangs before
turning back to his tree.
Two hours later, Van was still at it, getting consistently better
with each bush. The sun was really beating down now, and he found that
despite hours of practicing with his sword, his arms were tired.
'Must be using different muscles,' he thought grumpily.
'I wonder how much longer Folken wants to keep at this?' He
straightened up, glancing morosely at the bush and tree laden garden
stretching out before him.
'Oh my...'
"No," he whispered to himself. "I'm -not- gonna' be sick."
Unknown to him, Folken had finished with the tree and was quietly
watching and smiling his gentle smile. He missed being with his
brother; the responsibilities of being a King kept him from enjoying
much time with Van, although they'd always been close.
'And being ten years older doesn't help much either,' he thought
wearily. In all honesty, sometimes he felt like more of a surrogate
father than an older brother.
But maybe,...Van needed that.
Van was only five when Goul died, too young to remember much of him,
but Folken was constantly amused by how much his younger brother's
wild spirit reminded him of their father. And like their father, he
often needed a bit of reigning in, -the pulling done by their mother
or Folken.
He grinned, -and grimaced a little-, as he remembered all of the
scrapes Van had gotten into, only to be pulled out by his "Ani-ue!"
swearing that he could handle the often immense amounts of trouble
he'd gotten himself into.
But Van was growing up now, physically and mentally. Folken stirred
uneasily as he realized how much he would miss his "little" brother
running up to him in delight at the latest garden spider he had
caught...
"Folken-sama."
...or sitting with him in the shade, telling him stories while Van
bounced up and down with questions...
"Folken-sama!"
...or even hearing his excited account of climbing to the very top of
the tallest tree, thereby getting stuck and giving the advisors
charged with watching him heart-attacks...
"FOLKEN-SAMA!"
What?
The object of his affections was standing directly in front of him
now, waving his hands in Folken's face in near panic.
"Folken-sama, are you in there? I called you three times!"
With a start, Folken returned to the present, a little sheepish.
"And I heard you...what is it?"
Van smiled proudly, sweeping his hand out behind him with a flourish.
"Tada!"
The row of Darnak bushes behind him stood, or rather leaned, in
various states of dead, dying, but edging critical condition towards
the end of the row. In fact, the last one looked like, with plenty of
intensive care, it just might make it.
"So," he asked expectantly, gloomily glancing out over the endless
rows of shrubbery. "What do we do now?"
Folken sighed for the twentieth time that afternoon, looking at all of
the other vegetation in the garden that he had been planning on
attending to that day...the gardener was going to throw a fit when he
got back.
"Now," he smiled at his little brother, reaching down before Van could
stop him to ruffle up his hair even more than it already was,
"We ride horses."
THE END
*********************************
There it is, short and sweet. And fun to write.
AUTHOR'S OTHER NOTE: (Yeah, -another- one :) )
My friend and I agreed that "Ani-ue" must mean big brother, so if it
doesn't -MY humblest apologies!-
I really didn't mean to butcher anybody's language, I promise! (Blame
it on me taking German and Spanish.)
I also didn't read this part over as well, so forgive any
mis-spellings and/or weird sentences
:) Thanks!
AND tell me what you think! Please?
Send it to kitreece22@y...
Bye!
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