He sought out the most secluded part of the courtyard and settled onto the frozen bench, feeling the cold seep into his legs and back. A light dusting of snow was beginning to fall, the fluffy flakes sparkling in the light of the full moon. The shadows were long and deep, and the sounds of celebration and laughter were reduced to a mere murmur in the background. Alex sat for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing deeply in the cold stillness. He reached in his pocket for his harmonica, put the instrument to his mouth, closed his eyes, and began to play.
The warm, reedy tones of the instrument filled the air around him. It had not been his instrument of choice, back when he had been a young and eager music student just starting out at Cabriole’s university. Alex had always preferred keyboard instruments such as the clavier or the organ, with the violin as a close second. But organs could not be taken to the front lines and a violin was only an unnecessary piece of equipment to carry when space and manpower was already limited–not to mention the havoc that the cold, wet weather would have played on its strings. The harmonica could fit easily in his pocket and was always in tune, and there was something about the earthy timbre that made it more suited to a battlefield than the bright, vibrant colors of the clavier.
It had taken him a few weeks to learn to speak its language, but now he did so fluently. He pulled notes and harmonies from the tiny instrument, weaving them together as the music grew. Alex poured every bit of pain and grief and sorrow in his soul into the music, the melody both achingly sad and hauntingly beautiful as it swirled around him. Words were hard, but in the music he was able tofeel.
The last notes hung suspended in the air, sparkling along with the falling flakes of snow. There was something about the few heartbeats of stillness after a song was done that was almost more powerful than the music itself, and Alex kept his eyes shut as he slowly lowered the instrument from his lips and savored the moment.
“That was really quite something.”
The unfamiliar voice startled him, and his reflexes kicked in. Alex’s eyes flew open, and he lunged to his feet in less than the space of a breath. He dropped the harmonica and reached for the non-existent weapon at his side as he wildly looked around for the source of the sound.
A few feet to his right stood a bearded old man, bundled tightly in a weathered, dark gray overcoat. A red knit scarf was wrapped around his neck, capturing his nearly waist-length white beard underneath, and a matching hat was pulled down over his ears. Dark eyes, sharp and keen, watched him from underneath bushy eyebrows.
At Alex’s sudden movement, the old man shifted his stance and pulled one arm behind him. The action drew his attention to the fact that a small girl clung to the old man’s arm, looking up at him with the widest, greenest eyes he had ever seen. The child wore a hat and scarf as well, but a bright shade of blue rather than red, and the tips of blonde curls peeked out from underneath the edge of her hat. Alex had not been around very many young children, but he guessed she could not have been older than five.
“I’m sorry, my boy; I didn’t mean to startle you,” the old man said, his voice smooth and rich and soothing. “We heard your music and were so intrigued that we had to come investigate.”
Alex forced his shoulders to relax. As the adrenaline slowly left his system, a sharp pain in his leg reminded him that he was supposed to be staying in bed. “It’s fine,” he said curtly, though it was anything but. His mind was still battling with the memories that the sudden fright had brought to the surface–of enemy ambushes, of still nights interrupted by unexpected war cries.
Of thinking himself alone on the field of a recent battle, only to find that the enemy was merely playing dead.
“Little Sadie here loves music,” the old man continued, oblivious to the mental war that was being waged in Alex’s head. He reached across his body to gently pat the girl’s hands where they were wound tightly around his arm and looked down at her fondly. She smiled brightly up at him in return, the expression so full of love and admiration that Alex was struck with a sharp pang of jealousy and longing.
“Oh?” he answered blandly, more to be polite than out of any desire to actually continue carrying on the conversation. Now that the sanctuary of the courtyard had been intruded upon, he might as well be inside where at least it was warm. He bent down to retrieve his harmonica and brushed the snow off on the sleeve of his jacket.
“We both do. You have a remarkable talent, young man. You could do great things with it.”
Alex shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “I just play for myself.”
The old man studied him for a moment with a piercing gaze, and Alex had the uncomfortable feeling that the man could see past his harsh, grumpy exterior and into his very soul. “That’s a shame. Such a gift is meant to be shared with others. Speaking of gifts…,” he glanced down at Sadie with a meaningful tilt of his brows.
She let go of his arm and reached into her pocket. It seemed to be much deeper than Alex had expected, given her size, for she pulled out a doll approximately ten inches tall. It was dressed as a ballet dancer, in a form-fitting white top with a tulle skirt that puffed out from her waist, white tights, and dancing slippers laced with crisscrossing ribbons. It was carved from wood, with articulated joints that allowed the arms and legs to swivel and bend in a close approximation to real movement. The features on the doll were more lifelike than any he had ever seen; it was as if someone had taken the delicate features of a woman and shrunk them down to be pocket-sized, from her nose to the tiny ears on the side of her head. Even the brown hair on her head had been painted with varying shades to give the illusion of the real thing.
The little girl held the doll out to him expectantly. “Here,” she said, looking up at him with her wide eyes full of hope. “This is for you. So she can dance to your music.”
Alex hesitated for a moment, looking from the old man to Sadie. Up close she was even smaller than he had thought. What was he supposed to do with a ballerina doll? It wasn’t as if he had any daughters or nieces he could pass it along to, and he certainly wasn’t going to play with it himself.
But the old man said nothing, just watched him with that all-too-knowing gaze, and so Alex reached out his hand and took the doll. Because no matter how serious a man was, no matter how little experience he had with children, no matter how many battles he had fought in the line of duty, when a small child offers him a gift, he takes it.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly, holding the doll awkwardly.
Sadie smiled broadly at him and bounced on her toes in her excitement. “You’re welcome!”
“Well, we had better return inside and leave you to your solitude, Mister…?” The old man’s voice trailed off as he looked at Alex questioningly.
“Alexander Monde, sir.” The clipped, formal answer came without thinking.
“Mr. Monde. It has been a pleasure to meet you,” the old man gripped Alex’s hand in a hearty shake. Alex’s fingers must have been much colder than he thought, for they stung and tingled in his warm grip. “My name is Drosselmeyer. I hope we see you again soon.”
He gathered Sadie to his side and the two of them walked back down the dark path towards the recovery wing and the celebrations inside, leaving Alex standing alone in the courtyard, holding a ballerina in one hand and feeling slightly bewildered.
It was not until he was walking back to his bed a quarter of an hour later that he realized his knee no longer pained him.
Two
Thefestivitieswerestillin full swing when he returned, though his entrance to the recovery wing did not go as unnoticed as his exit.
“Hey, Monde! Come on over here and join us!” Harrison smiled broadly at him and raised the steaming mug he held in his one good hand. The other hung from a sling around his neck, a bandaged stump where his wrist should be just peeking out through the folds of fabric. The young soldier stood in a small circle with a few of the others from their regiment, talking and laughing together.
