In the early days of the Great School of Magic, there was a mighty Wizard. The Wizard was well known among his peers, and taught his students well, and everyone liked him. There was one Wizard in the School, around as old as the Great Wizard, who had almost no magic in her. Her craft was fine, and she could inscribe the runes even better than most, she could not give them much life, and her enchantments often crumbled in short order.
Even back in her days of schooling, her talents and weaknesses were apparent, as she was excellent at work with her hands, in the craft of the magic circles and the inscriptions of the runes. Her skills extended to lesser crafts, from the mending of fabrics to the making of pottery, and she tried her hardest to make herself useful.
Her schoolmates, despite seeing her skills, would taunt her for her ineptitude in the magical arts. They would inscribe their rough circles upon their clothing to mend it, and conjure up bowls and urns from the native clay, and though their clothing would soon tear again, and their pottery would crumble to nothingness after mere days, they refused to let her use her talents, as they conspired to make her feel worthless.
The Great Wizard, then nearly a boy, saw her and went over. He said, simply, “I see you mending your clothes, and I have torn my favorite robe. Though my magic is strong, it cannot hold as well as nice firm thread, and your talents can make it like new again. Would you do me the honor of repairing it?” He handed over the fabric, and the other Wizard, her heart running over with joy, accepted this, and quickly began to work.
Thus began a strong friendship between the two. They passed notes in classes, helped each other with exams, and spent much of their time with each other. They became so well attuned that he could power her runes, and he greatly admired the subtlety of her inscriptions. Her spellwork, after all, was of the highest quality, it was merely that she had little energy to throw behind it. He provided the energy, and she the skill, and together they were more able than either could be individually.
The Great Wizard was also a great learner, as most are, and before long, he had picked up much of the nuance of the other Wizard's craft. The other Wizard grew resentful, she no longer felt needed. She began to grow apart from the Great Wizard, and though he tried to stop it, he was still young, and inexperienced, and he could not. The bonds of friendship were broken, and she began to keep to herself, mending fabrics and making pottery, which was grudgingly appreciated by the Wizards of the town.
The Great Wizard grew up, and became a teacher, and well respected. He often looked back to the time he shared with the other Wizard, but he kept his sights in the present. He had many students to teach and much work to do. He regretted the past, but still could not see how to re-enter her heart. Though successful, and wise, and learned, the emptiness this created remained within his heart.
One day, the Great Wizard discovered that his magic had left him. With his magic went the respect of the School. Though he was still skilled in the craft of magic, he could not apply it, and he was stripped of his position. No one listened to his advice, though it was the same advice. No one even wanted to talk. The lingering emptiness quickly turned to despair, and in his desperation, he reached out to the other Wizard from long ago.
He found her in a mean little burrow to the side of the complex. She had been scratching out a living on her skills, and though her pottery and clothing were the finest available, she still garnered no respect. He announced himself at her entrance, “It is I, your friend from long ago. I had great power, but I never used it to help you. Perhaps it was a punishment that it was taken away from me.”
She came to the entrance, in a state of disarray, one hand holding a scrap of fabric. “Why should I believe you?” she asked, “This may just be a ploy you made, to trick me into liking you again. You always were clever. You came back to me just because you lost your skills? Where were you all this time?” She started to sob, and her voice rose in anger and pain. “Why did you abandon me? Where were you?” she cried, revealing a knife in her other hand. She stabbed quickly, the blow landing on his leg, a deep gash. “Now, use your magic to heal yourself!” she exclaimed.
The formerly Great Wizard summoned up every ounce of restraint he had, and remained calm. He merely said, “I really can't.” Seeing what she had done out of anger, the other Wizard became horrified. She did the only thing that made any sense to her, and like a piece of fabric, she tried to join the skin together, to slow the bleeding and to help him heal.
After she sutured him, both Wizards entered a state of calmness. They discussed for a while how they felt. She told him of her resentment for his increasing ability, and her fear of becoming worthless once again. He told her that she would http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=2212504836635501558always be better at the craft of spells, that her work was the finest he had ever seen. He told her even if there was someone better, she would still mean as much to him as before, as they were partners and friends, and without each other a hole had grown in each of their hearts.
The Great Wizard did not ever regain his powers, but he lived the rest of his life in a small burrow near the school with his closest friend, and he was happy.
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