Happy holly jolly days and a merry Yuletide, folks! Here’s a happy little story I whipped up for the holidays. May yours be merry and bright, and if I’m not around before the New Year, may 2025 bring us only the best, top-tier shenanigans. (Note: the events of this story are after To Forge Anew, so I recommend reading that first!)
For the first time in years, it was snowing in Vasos.
Children of every make and size ripped through cobblestone streets, hurling snowballs and waiting for delicate snowflakes to find purchase on their tongues. Orcs and dwarves, humans and spritely faerie all clambered together, their cheeks glistening and rosy, their shrieks rising into the sky.
The market just north of the city’s thoroughfare was brightly lit, the usual strands of glittering lights that hung from pole to pole intensified by the bright snow. Merchants, bundled in scarves and puffy hats provided by one lovely Dragonkin marketeer, proffered their goods to the bustling crowds.
Ligrog Dale wasn’t exactly accustomed to the cold, but it didn’t bother her as much as thinner-skinned folk; being a well-travelled half-orc had its advantages. Even so, she shrugged a thick, woolen sweater– courtesy of her neighbor, Tonkeira Redagast, fiercest Spellsnipe of the Ivory Leagues– over her leathers, and pulled a knitted cap over her currently-braided hair. The hairpiece made of her former battleaxe rested against her scalp, bringing a chill through her shoulders; it was her ever-present reminder of how much she had changed, and that no matter how rigid fate seemed, it might be altered.
But none of that was important today: Winter’s Leap was nearly here- a celebration of warmth and joy, spending time with those you call family, regardless of official titles- and she was in search of the perfect gift.
Acenia and her son, Khidell, had completed her little circle of life, and she was eager to show them just how much she cared. Ligrog chuckled to think of how much had happened; from a stranger in need of woodworking and a fine craftswoman, to business partners to, well… it didn’t have a label exactly, but it was right. And now, she needed the gift to match.
“Ligrog!”
A tiny voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her attention to a packed little art stall. Tilti, an elkmouse she had met when first venturing into Vasos, waved frantically from the countertop of the stall, wet paintbrush in hand.
“Tilti! It’s been an age!”
The elkmouse grinned, her cream fur bulging at chubby cheeks. “I’ve been on expedition, yes yes! Tilti is renowned now.” She fluffed the fur at her neck, tilting her shoulders this way and that.
Ligrog flourished a bow. “Well then! How honored am I to know such a fine artist!”
Tilti bowed back, adoration in her eyes. “So what is the also-famous Ligrog Dale in the market for today? It is nearly Winter’s Leap, yes yes, and I have many paintings of beautiful and dreamy landscapes for perusal!”
Ligrog searched through each finished piece, calculating. “They’re gorgeous as always, Tilti, but I’m looking for something… different.”
“Mmmm, different, yes. Something for your Elf-lady-friend?” The elkmouse wiggled her eyebrows.
Ligrog laughed, big and hearty. “Yeah, and Khidell, too. I always carve him new toys, but he’s getting to an age where it’s hard to pin down what he likes.”
“Tilti has an idea: there is a new seller, just around the way, that has all manner of strange and mysterious goods. I’m sure he would help you find something different.”
“Yeah? Well you point the way!”
Tilti weaved her tiny hands through the air, indicating this way and that to find the stall. Ligrog kept up for the most part, nodding and giving the elkmouse the gentlest of hugs.
“See you around, famous artist,” Ligrog said with a smile, before hustling through the gathering crowds.
“See you, Lirgog Dale!” Tilti waved excitedly before interrupting herself. “Oh, hello! Yes yes, Tilti can help you with that!”
Ligrog wove through the streets with new hope, eventually finding an exotic looking stall twice the size of the usual ones. From its awning sprawled a lush green carpet, its edges tinged with purple and gold. Tables piled high with baubles stretched back impossibly into the space, the interior reaching far beyond reality’s constraints. She ducked her head in carefully before calling out, “hello?”
“Hello, mistress of fate,” said a voice from somewhere ahead.
“Uh, yeah, hi.” Ligrog used every sense in her to find the source of the voice, to no avail. “I was told you’ve got some interesting gifts here?”
“Interesting, oh, what a dull word for divine offerings of the cosmos! But yes, Ligrog Dale, I do have interesting gifts.”
Ligrog shuddered. “How do you know my name?”
The voice was closer now, corporeal. “A weaver of fate always knows a thread she’s woven.” A woman appeared to her right, just beside her shoulder, and sauntered past. As the woman turned, Ligrog could clearly see a third eye under a silvery veil, one that matched the ethereal blue of the ones staring right through her.
“A Fateseeker,” Ligrog whispered to herself.
“Oh yes, I forget that this realm calls us by that title.” She flourished a deep tan hand, conjuring a floating thread into the air. It tugged at Ligrog in a strange way, one that felt like it originated straight from her heart.
“You seek a perfect gift to show love.”
Cheeks reddening against mauve skin, Ligrog cleared her throat and nodded.
“Oh, and this one is special. A woman and her boy, queen and king of your heart! How stirring.” The Fateseeker thought a moment, then snapped her slender fingers together. “I have it!”
From far beyond the back tables floated a package, clothed and tied, its circular shape undulating beneath the surface.
“Do not open this. Allow the lover to do the honors.”
Old defenses sprung into action. “And how do I know this isn’t a trap? I’m not some lovesick fool, so eager to put someone in danger.”
“Ah,” the woman purred, clasping a warm hand against Ligrog’s cheek, “but you are lovesick, even if you don’t know it. But I promise,” she crossed two golden threads over her where a heart should be, “there is no harm here. I wish to bring the joys of the cosmos this day, to a realm woefully lacking.”
Ligrog eyed the package as it came to rest in her scarred hands. “How much?”
The woman smiled. “Fate has decided this- who am I to allow worldly coin to get in the way?”
Ligrog tried to argue– a useless pursuit. Eventually, she thanked the woman, waving one arm overhead as she made her way through the aisles and aisles of tables, clutching the gift close to her chest.
The snow was coming down harder as Ligrog hurried back to the shop, hustling through the market and back south to the thoroughfare. A massive horse waited outside the blacksmith, the cart behind him even larger. The fires were lit inside, and she could see through the tall windows that Acenia and Khidell were decorating the space; magic and will collided together, throwing sprays of color and magickal orbs into the air, bringing a whimsy that only the famed woodworker could. The boy, much taller than when Ligrog had first met him, was standing a tree upright atop the counter; it glistened in silver and blue, colors matching the palette of his mother. Acenia smiled, and Ligrog felt a hitch in her chest.
This was it. This was the time. Ligrog opened the smithy door carefully.
“Ligrog, you’re back!” Acenia blushed, the color streaking fast across pale cheeks and shimmering blue freckles. “We have taken it upon ourselves to decorate for you.”
“Yeah!” Khidell added, his voice deepening from the child Ligrog once knew, “Happy Winter’s Leap, Lig!” He threw a muscley arm around her neck, just as he had done as a boy.
Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “You two are the best. Thank you, it’s beautiful. Just as beautiful as… uh, Acenia, can I talk to you outside?”
Acenia’s usual stern look returned, and she hurried out the door. “What is it? Is there trouble again? So help me–”
“No, no! Nothing like it. I just… listen. You and Khidell mean so much to me. I wanted to give you– to show you–” She grunted. “I’m no good at this. Here.” She offered the package forward.
Acenia took the gift carefully as Khidell not-subtly watched through the windows, face all but pressed against the glass. She pulled one string, then another, and as the cloth fell away, the thoroughfare was bathed in glittering light.
There, in her gloved hands, was a star.
It sparkled and shimmered, throwing light here and there in a spectacular show as it floated gently above her palms.
“Ligrog, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
This was it. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Ligrog approached, closing the gap between them and taking Acenia’s hands into her own. “I love you.”
The look on Acenia’s face was not what she expected. Stern, and confused, and… angry?
Panic rose in her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it too soon?”
“Ligrog Dale, I have waited so long.” Her voice was cold and icy as the day they met. “Since losing his father. Since making this new life. I have waited so long to be loved. I love you, adore you so.” Acenia placed a delicate kiss on her lips. “And this is the best gift I’ve ever received.”
Not one, but two different voices rose in cheer; one coming from Khidell inside, and the other from across the way as nosy old neighbor Tonkeira whooped and clapped in her doorway. “‘Bout damn time,” she harrumphed, “happy fer y’kids.”
“Let’s find a place to hang a star, plucked just for me,” Acenia beamed, wrapping her free arm around Ligrog’s waist and leading her inside.
A voice from somewhere beyond seemed pleased. “Wishing upon stars, what a novel concept. Luckily, I’m in the mood to grant wishes.”
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