If he had to trace the begining of all his problems back to
one point Ranma supposed it could all be traced back to the visit 
from the storyteller.  For if he had never shown up, or at least 
at the time he did.  He would never have taken Ranma with him on his
errand for Aunt Nodoka.

A Ranma 1/2 crosover with David Eddings Series The Belgariad

The Ranmariad by Olin Petty
All rights belong to their respective creators and publishers.

Chapter 2.  Doom Draws Near.

	It was a nice warm spring day when the storyteller arrived
again.  The air was fresh, the birds had just returned, and the first
flowers were starting to bloom.  Now as usual the storyteller arrived
without any kind of warning at all, and as usual Aunt Nodoka was
quite distraut at his presence.  For the man was like a bottomless
pit when it came to food and beer.  She had learned many years back
to keep an eye upon him whenever he was in the kitchen, for his fingers
were nimble and quick.(We won't even mention the fact that they were
also about as sticky as glue)  Unfortunately for Aunt Nodoka her 
watchful eye did nothing to prevent the theft from her kitchen, for
he had scores of children who would willingly take anything that
he asked for in return for one of his stories.  And much to Aunt
Nodokas dismay it turned out that as in everything else Ranma was
his most apt pupil.

	The storytellers tales were legendary at Faldors, as well as 
in the nearby countryside.  It was said that he knew every tale there
was to be known.  Surely he was a bard of a king, for nowere else could
you find such an apt storyteller.  His voice could imitate a wolf 
howling, the roar of a bear, screeches of hawks, and even more wonderous
sounds.  He could imitate the sound of a brook in a stream, the sound
of wind rushing about a house, and most amaizingly the sound of the
snow falling.(had to put that in there)  And truly when confronted 
by his little partners in crime wether he knew any kings or princes
he would reply, "Well I have known a few in my time."

	Now upon on the night before the fateful trip he graced the
farm with an untold honor around the dinner table.

	When dinner was done (and a delicious dinner it was too) Faldor
stood up, when the chatter had died down he asked, "Well my friend
would you grace our humble table with a story."

	"What do you wish the story to be about?"

	"Tell us of the beginings and of the gods my friend." Said
Faldor in a somber tone.

	"Ahh, Faldor such a dry and dusty subject.  But as I am in
a dry and dusty mood I shall do as you request of me."

	"Hmmph! You find all subjects dry and dusty old man." Said
Aunt Nodoka as she brought him a foaming tankard of ale.  Which
suprised Ranma for he had never heard her utter an evil word about
anybody.

	"Ahh that is the penalty for living as long as I have my
dear, you learn too much of the world."  He then drained the 
tankard with one long gulp, and looked at the table.  Then he
stopped at Ranma, and looked long and hard at him, he thought.
Then doing something completely unacustomed, the storyteller
rose to his full height and drew his cloak tightly about him.
He stood there his back straight for a good minute before he
finally began.

	"Behold," he said in a voice like music,"at the begining
of the world the Gods stood at the brink of chaos and watched.
Then the Gods made the world the sea and the dry land also.  And
they flung the stars across the night sky and they did set the 
sun, and his wife the moon, in the heavens to bring light onto
the world below."

	"And they did cause the earth to bring forth all maner of 
creatures, and the seas to bud with fish, and the skys to bloom
with birds."

	"They also made the men, and divided them into diffrent
peoples among themselves."

	"Now the gods numbered seven and were all equals they 
were Belar, and Chaldan, and Nabiki, and Mousse, and Aldur, and
Happosai, and Soun."

	Of course Ranma had know the story, he had known it all
of his life.  Everyone knew the story, but however familiar it 
was no one at the table had ever heard it told like this before.
His mind was filled with pictures as the Gods made the earth, and
strode across the earth looking upon what the had made.  And an
unearthly chill came across him when he heard the forbidden name
of Happosai.

	He listened like a man in a trance, as did the whole table,
as the tale unfolded.  He heard how each of the Gods took unto
themselves each a people, Belar the Alorns, Chaldan the Arends, Nabiki
the Tolnedrans(couldn't bear to change the name to Tolnabikians)
Mousse the Nyissans(ditto), Happosai the Angaracks, Soun the Marags(yup).
And how Aldur walked away without a people and dwelt apart from the others 
meditating in solitude, and how he took to himself some few disciples 
and trained them.

	He ripped himself from the tale to glance at the other 
listeners.  Durnic eyes were wide, and old Cralto's hands gripped the
table as if a vice.  Faldors face was pale, and tears ruched from his
eyes.  Aunt Nodoka stood at the end of the room, and clutched her
mantle about her as if cold.

	"And it came to pass," the storyteller continued, "that the 
God Aldur caused a jewel to be made in the shape of a globe, and
behold, in the jewel was the light of certain stars that did 
glitter in the northern sky.  And gread was the enchantment upon 
the jewel that men called the Orb of Aldur, for with it Aldur
could see that which has been, that which was, and that which
is yet to be"

	Ranma let loose the breath that he hadn't noticed he was 
holding, for he was truly caught up in the story and listened
like a man enraptured.  He listened in wonder as Happosai stole
the orb from his brother, and how he struck the earth and caused
it to split open and the seas to drown the land. 

	The telling stopped and Aunt Nodoka moved and presented
another tankard of ale to the storyteller with unusual grace and
formality.

	"I have never heard the story told in such a maner before."
Faldor said in a tone of wonder and awe.

	"It is the Book of Alorn," Cralto spoke up from across the
table, "I hear it is only told in the presence of kings.  One of 
my cousins was in the kings court years back and heard the story
told.  Though he never could remember the whole thing."

	Having finished with his tankard of ale the storyteller
continued his tale of wonder.  He recounted how Belgenma had taken
back the Orb from Happosai with Cherek and his three sons, how
the kingdom of Japan had started, and how Riva had forged the
great sword that held the Orb to this day.  How it was prophicised
that so long as a heir to the Riva line lived Happosai could never
prevail.

	He listened to how Belgenma lost his wife in childbirth
and sent one of his daughters to marry Riva on Japan, while he
kept the other of his daughters for she had the mark of the
sorcerors upon her.

	The storytelley drew to the close of his story in a soft
voice, barely a whisper, "And between them did Belgenma and his
daughter cast mighty enchantments against the coming of Happosai.
And some say that they shall abide unto the end of days for it is
prophesised that one day shall the deformed Happosai shall come
against the Kingdoms of the West to reclaim the Orb which he 
so dearly purchased with his beauty.  And he shall come forth
to do battle with the line of Riva and in that battle shall be
decided the fate of the world."

	At the end the old man slumped forward looking exausted
and let the cloak fall from his shoulders.  He managed to sit
back into his chair before he fell into it with some amount
of grace.

	Silence greeted the end of the story, a silence that 
crashed upon the ears like waves upon the clif.  With the
only sound coming from the cicadias outside and the fire.

	Finally after numerous eternities Faldor cleared his
throat quietly, but still drawing everyones attention.  "You
have graced these humble walls with a story fit for a king
my friend." Faldor said his voice thick with emotion, "We
will remember this event for all of our lives, for stories
such as this are usually not wasted upon the common people."

	The old man grinned as if from some secret joke, his
eyes twinkiling.  "Well Faldor of late I haven't consorted
with many kings.  They don't seem to be listening to stories
much lately, and besides a story must be told now and again
to prevent it from being lost to the ages.  And who knows in
this day where a king might be hiding."

End Chapter 2.

Well this seemed like a fitting place to end the story.
Can anybody see where this story is starting to become
diffrent yet?  Well the keys are there.  Um anybody who
would like to possibly be on a prereading list please 
let me know at HHDeNi@aol.com because I think I will need
the help.  The hardest part for me in writing is the
dialouge and don't forget minor things like spelling
and grammar.  I think that if I had a prereading list
this thing would move along a little faster. Like a short
chapter every week or two instead of every month or two.

Anyway I would appreciate any C+C you wish to give on this

Next: Chapter 3 Divergent Paths

Sir Olin 'Neplusultra' Petty
Defender of the Honor of the True Fiancee  AKANE
Members of Akane's Dojo
3rd disciple of Eriond watcher of the sunken apostate
Defender of the 3rd gate   Well you can _try_
VISIT my homepage http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Temple/3488/index.html
SIGN The Book Of Words

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To love but in living love to die but once at peace.
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The sunlight shatters upon the shadow of despair revealing what is
and always was you, whole, afraid.
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love is faith / is unknowing / be all hallowed / in the eye of / nothing
/ shanti / end.  
~The last and only the last from Feersum Endjinn by Iain M. Banks

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