"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time
to be born and a time to die... a time to kill and a time to heal... a time to weep and
a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance... a time to embrace and a time
to refrain... a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace."

Ecclesiastes 3:1

"Your penmanship certainly has improved, young master," the writing master said, scrutinizing a piece of parchment in his hands, "but your verb usage has yet more space for improvement." He looked down on Elliot, who was about six, and was dressed as any other noble boy would be-in a neatly pressed fine silk cream-colored shirt, a deep green tunic delicately embroidered with even deeper green vines, and silk brown breeches. "You must pay attention to the relationship between the verbs and the subjects."

"Yes, sir," Elliot said meekly, looking at the ground.

"Well, on account of your penmanship drastically improving this week, you are excused for the rest of the day. Remember to do your writing work tonight, and look out for the verbs."

"Yes, sir." Elliot bowed low and walked out the room as fast as he could without seeming disrespectful. Once he was in the corridor, he ran as fast as he could to the kitchen. "Grandmother Idyll! The writing master said that I am free for the rest of the day. May I please go to the market with you?" he looked pleadingly at her through large shining brown eyes.

Idyll looked down at him kindly, and smiled, wondering absently if any child could be more adorable. "Of course you may, child. Run along and change into your old clothes. You don't want to get these nice new clothes dirty, now."

"Yes, Grandmother," Elliot replied, bowing politely, and ran out to the corridor as fast as his small legs could carry him.

The child was growing distant from her already at this early age, Idyll thought ruefully. No matter how hard she tried, she could not replace the role of a loving mother or father to him, and Elliot was all but an orphan, only seeing Morgen at meals and at his pompous, official banquets. There was nothing Idyll could do to give him true companionship, because she was an older person to him. Yes, he loved her well and adored her lovely fairy tales, and yes, he respected her. However, she could not help but think he would do well with a companion or two of his own age.

Skipping and singing a merry song, a fair little girl about the age of six led a little boy of the same age by the hand through the streets, even though it was cold and they both breathed clouds of white warm breath into the winter air. They had been to the town many times before, although both of them were raised on the farms in the outskirts of the village.

"Where are we going, Faeridelle?" The little boy wriggled his hand out of her grasp an slowed. "You know we're not allowed this far into the town without an adult with us." He looked rather ruffled, and was breathing hard in the cold harsh air. There was plenty of snow on the ground, and the wind blew strong upon the children.

"Oh come on, Karl." Faeridelle turned back for a second and grinned at home prettily. "Are you afraid?"

"Me?" Karl glared at her back as she ran from him further. He sprinted to catch up. "Of course I'm not afraid," he shouted.

"Then come on already!" Faeridelle shouted back.

Karl followed her through the winding streets, and together they marveled at some of the shops. Soon Faeridelle saw a bronze flash in the corner of her eye and stopped before the shop that she had seen it in. In the small old ship window there was an old hand-carved wooden clock with a lovely embossed brown face and gold-plated clock hands ticking away regally.

"It's wondrous!" she breathed in wonder at the exquisite artwork. "If only..."

"It is pretty," Karl commented dubiously. It did not look too special to him. Faeridelle did not fail to notice this, and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Oh all right, come on." And they took off again through the streets.

Together they ran through the alleyways and all the crooks and crannies of the town, and eventually, in the center of the town, they came upon the old clock tower that used to chime the hours many years ago and had long since rusted away to uselessness. Karl looked up and stared wonderingly at the giant tower that rose up into the sky, with its still bell sitting regally in a chamber at the top. Faeridelle, however, had already pulled the tower door open with a loud CREAK and curiously poked her head in.

"Faeridelle! Don't go in there!"

"I want to go see the bell!" Faeridelle looked seriously back at him, pulling back the door wide enough so that they could fit through one at a time. Before he could reply, she had squeezed in the opening of the door and dashed up the stone steps in the tower.

"Faeridelle!" Karl called out desperately. She was running up the stairs just ahead of him with astounding speed. "Just come back! Please! It's not safe up there!"

"Come on, Karl!" Faeridelle turned around, her large braid, ribbons, and petticoats flying around her prettily. She shouted in reply gleefully, "I thought you weren't afraid?"

"Of course I'm not! Why would I be afraid? You should be the one who is afraid. You're a girl!"

"That's silly. We girls don't scare as easily as boys think we do. Now, are you coming or not?"

Faeridelle turned back around and, gathering her petticoats off the ground so that she would not trip over it, and began her trek up the clock tower stairs again, the braid she had made of her light hair that morning bouncing cheerily after her. Karl stared after her hair that glinted in the dim light, watching her flowing ribbons and petticoats for one dumbfounding moment.

How pretty, he thought stupidly for a moment, then shook his head to clear his head. Mother would say I was being silly again, he told himself.

"Oh, for goodness' sake-" Karl scowled and mentally smacked himself for being so stupid. "All right! I'm coming already-wait for me!" He pelted up the stairs after Faeridelle, skipping steps as best as a six year old child could without tripping all over himself, and tried very hard not to be frightened by the eerie dark stone walls that made up the corridor for the stairs that wound up around a central pillar inside the tower, with only small slits of windows for lighting. He almost succeeded.

"Come on! I see a door!" Faeridelle stopped and grinned just as he shook off a shiver of fear. She was beckoning him to her with her hand in an impatient motion. "This must be the top! Let's go!"

She dashed up the rest of the flight of stairs and stopped at the door, panting slightly. By this time, her hair had all but come undone. She was quite a sight, Karl thought, with her hair flying about wildly and her face flushed from the climb.

"It's..." Faeridelle breathed wonderingly upon studying the door. "It's wondrous." It was quite amazing, Karl had to admit. The door was made of well-preserved oak, and was studded with all sorts of bronze plating. A centerpiece was nailed squarely in the center of the door, and it bore an exquisitely embossed inscription in flowing calligraphy. It meant nothing to either of the children, however, as they did not know how to read. Karl stared at the door in wonder, and found himself speechless for a long moment.

"Well? Are you going to go in?" he demanded after a moment of recovering from the run and regaining his breath (as well as staring at the door). The door had no handle nor any visible sign that it could even be opened, except for the fact that it was set two inches into the wall and was so extravagantly decorated.

"Of course I'm going in!" Faeridelle pushed lightly on the door experimentally. There was an unmistakable click of a latch coming undone on the other side.

Karl swallowed. Everyone in the town kept their doors well locked. Who in their right mind would leave a door unlocked like this anyway? He looked at the door again, and realized that Faeridelle had gone through it. Last chance to back out, he thought to himself, then sighed in exasperation, and followed her.

"Oh!" Faeridelle was saying. "It's amazing," she breathed. Neither of them realized that the door behind them - plain and undecorated on this side of it - had swung shut silently.

Karl's gaze followed the direction that Faeridelle was looking at, and he had to agree. Other than the usual large clock work machinery in a clock tower and the ever-present stone walls, inside the surprisingly spacey room were swirls and swirls of crystal twirling up from the ground gracefully in seemingly random places all throughout the room, nearly filling it. In the center of a room was a large empty circle, at the center of which was a swirl of crystals that was directly rooted into the ground and swirled up to nearly Faeridelle's height. In front of it, as if guarding the crystal, was a silver sword gleaming with diamonds embedded into the hilt. At the top of the crystal was a curve that held a single object.

Faeridelle reached out to pluck the diamond-embedded silver clock hand from the curve in the crystal.

She stared at the beautiful clock hand in her hands for a moment, entranced. "It's beautiful."

Karl was beginning to definitely feel something strange going on. Something was not right, but he could not tell what it as. At that very moment, he heard a sound, "Someone's coming! Hide!"

Faeridelle looked at the door and heard the footsteps approaching as well. She dashed for one of the miniature swirls of crystal mountains and hid behind one while Karl followed closely at her heel.

Faeridelle peeked around the crystal she was hiding behind, and saw that as the door swung open silently, in walked a man with eerily white hair, eyes, and... wings?

The man strode over to the crystal at the center, and saw that a certain something was missing.

"The clock hand-" his eyes widened. He swore, turned, and looked around the room angrily. Faeridelle quickly hid herself fully behind the crystal once more, and then she heard the man swear again. "Damn you, Dark," he hissed, and in a flash dashed out the door before either child could register what was going on in their minds.

"Grandmother Idyll," Elliot was saying, dressed in a clean, simple cotton shirt and a worn pair of clean trousers. "I am ready to go now."

Idyll looked up at him from the herbs she had been working on before he came in. They were quite low on willow bark, and she had been cleaning a new batch for drying. She spread them on a piece of cloth set it all on the hearth to dry. Removing her apron, she wiped her hands. "All right, then, young master. Shall we go?" she smiled at him kindly.

Elliot smiled lightly in the way that only children had, looking serene and solemn at the same time. "Yes."

Together they set out on foot to the market. It was not the first time they had gone to the marketplace together, and on the way he often stopped and crouched down in front of some odd, unknown plant he had not seen before, asking her what it was. She would then tell him the name of the plant, its uses, and sometimes stories that had the plants in them. It was a happy time for both of them, and they both enjoyed each other's company on the way to the market every time they went.

As they neared the marketplace, they saw many more people than they had on the road. Most recognized them as inhabitants of the Duke's castle, and greeted them courteously. Most knew the child well from his trips with Idyll to the market, and they liked his manners. Clearly, they all felt that he was not nearly as greedy or stupendous as his father was. Elliot, in turn, greeted them back politely, and was still slightly nervously aware of the fact that he was to rule over all these people one day.

Really, he thought, he should have gotten over that bit of anxiety, or at least got used to it. However, it was rather a hard notion to get rid of.

This continued as Idyll looked through items she needed for the castle and bargained well for them. She was not buying the usual kitchen things - the cook did that. She was buying plants and tools for her simple herbs, for her job was in caring for Elliot. Most herbs she could not find in the shops, and had to pick them herself or send one of the more intelligent servants of the castle to pick them for her. Today, however, she was buying common herbs that the limited collection of the marketplace offered. Elliot followed quietly, seemingly attentive to what she was doing and buying at the moment, but after a few stalls in the market, his attention began to waver. This, of course, did not escape Idyll.

"Why don't you run off and play, Elliot?" the old woman said to him kindly, balancing several parcels in her arms. "I will meet you at the entrance of the market at noon. You have your watch that your father gave you, do you not?"

"Of course, Grandmother. Really, may I really go play?" Elliot's eyes lit up with hope.

"Yes, you may."

Elliot started to turn away, and then looked back, confused. "But Grandmother, you do not have a watch. How will you be able to tell the time?"

Idyll chuckled. "I will know, child. The movements of the sun is what tells me the time. Now, run along."

"What are we going to do?" Karl asked Faeridelle nervously.

Faeridelle was deep in thought, looking quite adorable as she perched atop a rock in the plains near the town, holding the clock hand in a handkerchief in her hands. The snow was less thick here, and only a thin layer covered the ground. The snow had mostly melted already, and the top of the rock was quite dry.

In their hurry to leave the clock tower, she had forgotten to put the clock hand back, and she would really rather not have to go back to the tower again. She did not like the glint in that odd light-haired - nearly white, really - man's eyes anyways, and had grown protective of the beautiful jeweled clock hand. It was shaped delicately and intricately, with patterns of diamond swirling around it. The point of the clock hand was quite sharp, and she drew blood on it. She winced, and put the wounded finger in her mouth, sucking on it gently.

"I don't like that man," she murmured decidedly after a moment of thought.

"But what if he comes after us? This must be worth fortunes!" Karl said worriedly.

"If you won't be quiet," Faeridelle replied firmly, "I will leave you here and find another place to think at."

Karl remained silent for a moment. "What are you going to do with it, then?" he blurted out.

"I am going to keep it safe with me always," she stated quite decidedly.

He knew that she could, too. Her clothes were nearly always neat, and she never lost a doll. If she meant to keep it by her side always, she would. Karl watched her as she wrapped it up in her cotton handkerchief, took out a spare handkerchief, and wrapped the first bundle in the new cloth, taking extra care to go over the point of the clock hand several times so that its sharp edge was well covered.

"Well," she said decidedly, standing up, "I am going to play by the river. Are you coming?" From her tone, Karl knew she didn't want to talk about the clock tower any further.

He sighed, and followed her as she walked lightly towards the marketplace. Near the entrance of the market place was a lovely stone bridge over a small creek, and it was one of her favorite places to play.

When they walked by the market entrance, though, Faeridelle noticed a young boy their own age looking at them with a bewildered look on his face. It was a boy she did not recognize, and she knew all the other children in the town well.

"Hello," she smiled kindly at the boy. "What is your name?" Karl tried his best not to glare at the new boy.

He looked at her for a moment, frowning in embarrassment. "I-um, my name is Elliot."

"Well, my name is Faeridelle, and this is Karl. How come I've never seen you before?" Faeridelle took a step towards him, curious as always.

"My father," Elliot replied. "He doesn't let me out of the house much."

"I see," Faeridelle said politely. "Well," she said after a moment of thought, "since you're here now, do you want to play with us?" Again, Karl told himself that he did not want to hit this Elliot person who showed up out of nowhere.

Elliot, however, took no notice of Karl's reaction, and neither did Faeridelle.

"Yes," Elliot was saying. "It would be rather nice to play with you." I'm always alone, he thought. Could he really play with other children?

"Come with us then," Faeridelle smiled brightly, and took his hand, tugging him towards the bridge.

Elliot smiled back.

To be continued.

A/N:

The rewriting done in this chapter wasn't as extensive as in chapter one. I still added a good 6+ kb on it though, and I'm actually pretty happy with the chapter (for once). Then again, I liked the first version of this chapter too. As you can see, this chapter is a loaded one, and it introduces how the three main characters met (which was the original purpose of the chapter anyways). Hopefully it was enjoyable and acceptable writing, too.

DNAngel belongs to many big scary companies, but not too me. Pooh.

Please be a responsible reader and review.

Amy Pan
December 9th, 2003
5:32 PM