I'm aware that there is another Ranma/Eddings story out there, but
to be honest, I haven't read it, and don't know who the author is.
If this is a repeat, forgive me.

This probably won't make sense to anyone who hasn't read David and
Leigh Eddings 'Belgariad' and 'Mallorean' series. 

It's more of an idea than a fic, so if you have ideas, or are interested 
in picking it up altogether, get in touch with me.

------------------

	*Garion.*
	The king stirred in his sleep and muttered somthing about
'Mutton futures'.
	*Garion, wake up.*
	"Nnnph,"
	*I swear, you're getting as bad as Belgarath. Wake up, Garion, I
need to talk to you.*
	"Mmmrrr... later, Ce'Nedra. I'm still sleepi...zzznx"
	"Garion, Ce'Nedra's pregnant again."
	The king sat bolt upright in bed. "What?!?! Again!?!?"
	*Just kidding. That won't happen again for another few years. I
need you up.*
	Garion rubbed at his eyes and glanced over at his still sleeping
wife to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He decided to forgo the
customary 'Where have you been?' and stood to clear his mind.
	*It's been a while,* he thought. *How's Eriond?*
	*Coming along,* The Voice replied. *He's still refusing to exert
his will against those who won't accept him voluntarily.*
	*Actually, I wouldn't expect any less form him.* Garion
stretched and walked over to his dressing table. He ran his fingers
through his hair and glanced at the clockwork time keeping device
Polgara's daughter had crafted for him and his wife.
	"Four hours after midnight! Blah."
	*Actually, I wouldn't expect any less of him either. It's just
causing problems for him and Zakath. There's a few samll towns up near
Jenno that are still 'waiting for the new dark god'.
	*Eriond's been working away at them for years, but with little
or no progress. Zakath wanted to send in the army, but Erion refused.*
	"I'll have to take a trip, and see if I can help." Garion pulled
on an informal tunic and made for the door of his bedchamber. *So, is
this just a social visit? I *really* could use a few more hours in
bed.*
	*Quite the opposite, really."
	"Oh?" Garion padded down the cold hallway toward the royal
kitchens. A cup of tea would be just what he needed to wake up.
	*There's been another accident, Garion.*
	The King froze in his tracks.
	*An... accident? Like...*
	*Yes. A rupture in the fabric of the universe. This one's not
quite so serious yet.*
	Garion quickened his pace and resumed his path toward the
kitchens. *Will it result in another division? Are we going to have
another set of prophecies?*
	*Before the last accident, the conciousness that proceeded me
had no concept of 'intervention'. The division changed all that. I'm
not about to sit back and let somthing like that happen again.*
	*So what are we going to do about it?*
	*'We'* Garion thought he heard the voice snicker. *You're on top
of things already. Right now, I'm putting all my energy into keeping
the rupture from spreading and destroying another galaxy. UL and the
other gods aren't going to intervene in this one unless it becomes
absolutely necessary. That *may* involve the destruction of an entire
world, so don't even think of asking for outside help.*
	*Lovely,* Garion entered the kitchen, and sneaked past the
drowsy cook. He filled a kettle with warm water and started searching
for a cannister of tea. *So what tasks do I have this time? What rules
do I have to follow?*
	*Since there's no division, You're free to play by your own this
time. You'll just have to help take care of the problem.*
	*That's cute. The new 'Rivan Codex' will read 'Just take care of
the problem.'*
	*You know, Garion. You're sense of humor is decaying as you age.
You're just about as bad as Belgarath.*
	Garion sighed as he poured boiling water over the cup of tea. *I
know. Ce'Nedra's bugging me about it, too. What do I have to do?*
	*Some time this morning, you'll receive several guests.*
	*Guests?*
	*Aliens, Garion. They're from another planet. They're human, but
they were born on a different world, speak another language, and have
wildly different customs. You're job will be to help keep them alive
and sane until I can send them back to where they belong.*
	*That's it?*
	*It will be extraordinarily difficult.*
	Garion did not doubt the invisible presence.
	The voice continued. *If it helps at all, you're Aunt and
Grandfather will be arriving for a visit this afternoon.
Poledra, Durnik and the twins will be along, too.*
	*I could probably use Silk and Lisele, too. Barak and maybe
Lelldorin, might help. I'll send messengers.*
	*You can, but they'll be along in about a week, anyway. Unrak,
too.*
	Garion nodded to himself as he sipped his tea. *How long will
they be here?*
	*Right now, It's heard to estimate. It may not sound like it,
but I'm horribly busy just keeping the universe from falling apart.
Say anywhere from a couple of months to a few years.*
	Garion raised his eyebrow.
	For once, the voice sounded apologetic. *I'm sorry I can't be
more specific right now, Garion. Not even UL knows how this is going
to turn out. If we act now, though, between us we can prevent a repeat
of Torak and Zandramas.*
	*It can't be helped, old freind.* Garion answered.
	*Just for your own reference, you're the Child of Light again,
while this is going on. One of the visitors may share or assume it
later, though.*
	*Will there be a Child of Dark?*
	*No. That died with Zandramas. It doesn't mean you won't be
dealing with some very evil people, though.*
	"Well, let's get to work then." Garion drained his mug and set
it down on a table.
	*They just arrived. Good luck, Garion.*
	Garion was about to ask what that meant, as a sandy haired young
man and a large, menacing wolf ran breathlessly into the kitchen.
	"Father!"
	Garion poured another mug of tea and handed it to his son.
	"What's wrong, Geran?"
	"People! From Sky! Fell! Murgos!"
	*Must be the 'visitors',* Garion thought as he followed his son
toward the courtyard. "Wait a second? Murgos?!?!"
	"Yes, father! Murgos! Here on Riva!"
	Garion gritted his teeth. While tensions with the Angarak
nations had relaxed significantly over the last fifteen years, there
were still lingering restrictions. Angaraks were welcome on the Isle
of the Winds only at his invitation. It usually only pertained to
visits of state. If a group of Murgos, even alien Murgos descended
upont the Hall of the Rivan King, there were liable to be *problems*.
As his son calmed, he recounted the story of how several people had
fallen out of flash of lit in the air. Garion quickened his pace after
the prince, and soon reached the trianing yard.
	Geran's filly, Gwenny, was prancing wildly on the other side of
the courtyard, while several of the stable hands, and a few guards
stood side by side with their swords leveled at somthing in front of
them. There was quite a bit of shouting going on, partly in a language
Garion didn't understand. The tension was palpable.
	"AT EASE, MEN!" He shouted. While they didn't lower their
weapons, they did back up several paces.
	Garion and his son walked up inbetween two of the stable hands
to get a good look at the strangers.
	The first thing Garion noticed were their faces. The group did
indeed appear to be Angarak. The men didn't quite have the scarred
cheeks of Murgos, and their skin was quite a bit lighter. They weren't
as tall, ant their shoulders weren't nearly so broad as Murgo, and one
of them appeared to be more Melecene than Murgo. It was hard to tell,
however, since his eyes were covered by thick, distorting magnifying
lenses.
	Looking closely at the other eyes in the group, Garion noted
that they were just a little larger, and more rounded than the Murgo
almond shape. They difference was especially prounounced on the women
of the group.
	Their clothes and hair were quite alien. Two of the men were
wearing short tunics and long trousers. The one in the red tunic had a
long pony tail tied into a braid, and the one in the yellow tunic wore
a spotted band of cloth around his forehead. Although the pigtailed
youth was unarmed, he was standing in what was clearly a defensive
stance, and *acted* as if he were carrying weapon. The boy with the
headband held a parasol made of paper low, as if it were a sword.
	The other two men both wore robes. The one with the thick
glasses on his eyes wore trousers similiar to the other two, and had
several dangerous looking spikes protruding from the sleves of his
long white robe. The other was wearing large, billowy, pants and
carried a *wooden* sword as if it were made of the finest steel.
	There were a few more women in the group than the men, but only
two of them were armed. Their clothing, however, was even more alien
than the mens'.
	The shortest of the six girls was standing next to the pigtailed
youth and his freind with the headband. Her thick black hair was cut
boyishly short, and she wore a *short* skirt, and a billowy blouse.
While her skirt wasn't quite as short as one of Ce'Nedra's dryad
tunics, it exposed more leg than Garion had seen in public since the
last time he visited Nyssa.
	She held a stance that closely mirrored the pigtailed youth's.
It appeared that they beleived they could fight the armed guards with
little more than their fists.
	Behind her were two young women who were very obviosly related
to the first. The tallest of the two was wearing somthing similiar to
a long dress, although the fabric and repair of the garment was quite
a bit better than any peasant smock, it wasn't nearly so ornate as the
gowns the ladies in his court wore. She was completely unarmed, except
for a charming smile.
	The other girl was showing more leg than her sister. She wore
trousers that were so short as to completely expose her thighs, and a
low cut blouse that was as daring as anything his wife had ever worn.
Her hair was cut a little longer than the first girl, but quite a bit
shorter than the second. She was unarmed as well, but had her arms
crossed under her breasts and wore a completely unworried expression
on her face.
	Garion thought the next girl was another man at first, because
of her flat chest, but it was obvious from the way she moved that she
was just as female as the rest. Her long, almond colored hair was tied
back into a waist length ponytail, and she wore a severe dark jacket,
and straight trousers. She was armed with a bandoleer of what looked
like cooking spatulas, and a large steel paddle she weilded like a
broadsword. After a second, Garion realised that it was only a larger
version of the spatulas hung over her shoulder.
	The next girl's clothing were at quite a variance. They were the
brightest violet silk Garion had ever seen. She wore a blouse and
trousers, and had long, thick *violet* hair. She was armed with two
short clubs. They were more short sticks with large, brightly colored
balls on the ends.
	The last girl strained Garion's deeply engrained sense of
Sendarian propriety. She wore nothing more than a tight fitting outfit
that covered very little of her body. It's skintight fabric showed off
every curve of her body. Her wavy black hair was tied off to one side
in an odd looking ponytail, and the sultry expression in her eyes was
every bit as dangerous as it was inviting. As he pondered the long
ribbon the girl continually twirled through the air, he caught his son
staring long and hard at the girl's figure.
	*Uh, oh.*
	Garion noticed that the prevalent expression on the strangers'
faces was one of confusion. He doubted they understood what happened
as well as he did. Well, if he had to keep them safe, the first thing
to do would be to diffuse this situation.
	"Drop your arms, men?"
	The highest ranking guard turned toward him in shock. "Your
Majesty? Drop our arms before Murgos?"
	"They're not Angaraks, Brelmik." He took the guard's sword and
layed it down in front of the four young men, who had taken up a
position just in front of the girls.
	The pigtailed youth said something in a flowing,
incomprehensible tounge and relaxed his stance.
	The rest of the guards grudginly lowered their swords, and in
response, the group of strangers did as well...
	With the exception of the blue robed man with the wooden sword.
He started speaking in the same alien language, and posed
dramatically.
	The short haired girl rapped him viciously across the back of
the head, knocking him unconcious to the ground.
	The indecently clothed girl with the ribbon lauged evilly.
	Realizing that they would have to overcome the communcation
barrier, Garion took the first step. He pointed to his own chest and
spoke his name, "Belgarion."
	The group, still with a wary eye to the King and the other men,
conferred in their alien language for a second. Then, the pigtailed
youth stepped forward and pointed at his own chest.
	"Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

------

Slow, yes I know. Like I said, it's more of an idea than a real fic.

For those who are interested, 'Ranma's Apartment' proceeds apace. I know
I said to expect a third story around Halloween, but due to school and
other obligations, it just didn't happen. Work is steady on it, though,
so don't despair.

Work on 'Ballad' has come to a hiatus. I'm having an extraordinarily
rough time on it. Sometimes I feel like there are so many really
good, and so many passing alternate universe Ranma stories, that its
not worth working on. I don't think I'll give up Ranma, though, and I
like to think that I can still save it.

Until later, then,

Chris



Chris Jones, Rodent without a cause - hamster@arn.net
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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