Ebenezer: Past

A new layer of snow was forming over the dirty blanket, stained with ash and blood. In that blanket of snow there were layers of hard ice, so when you stepped on it, it didn't give right away, then your foot fell suddenly with a nice crunch. The wind howled across the battlefield as buildings in the distance crumbled under the fire. The falling snow was turning grey from the smoke...
Ebenezer stood on top of the hill, looking over the battlefield. He could only see the dark forms that used to be his enemies and his men. Two dark figures were making their way towards the hill, and the encampment. He squinted against the bitter wind. Yes, it was two men, one of them was injured. When they got closer Ebenezer could see the glint of metal. They were two of his. At least they were alive. To fight again and die in the next battle, no doubt.
The two soldiers paused when they got to the bottom of the hill. They were looking at Ebenezer...they didn't think that he would be out at this time, looking over the damage. Their commander looked down at them. "Is there a problem?" He shouted. They jumped and ran up the hill as best as they could.
Ebenezer was going to just leave them to get to the hospital by themselves, but then the injured one (leg and torso, both bullet wounds, not terribly serious if the blood was stopped) glanced up at him and the warlord had to stop.
The wind whipped in a different direction, and Ebenezer's silver bell earring jingled softly. He bit his lip, then motioned for them to follow him. His heart had not beat so hard or so fast in the past two years. He escorted them to the hospital tent.
All the beds were filled, and the air was filled with groans and cries of pain and anguish. He led them to the operating tables.
"Sir, we're all full."
"Make sure this one is taken care of." Ebenezer replied simply, nodding towards the injured one.
One of the surgeons looked up from his work and at the injured soldier. "I can take him next. He won't take long."
"Good." Ebenezer's silvery eyes glimmered. He told the two to sit down and asked their names.
"I'm Drazan, sir, and this is Anastas." The non-injured one said. He had brilliant blue eyes. Anastas, the injured, looked up at Ebenezer and tried to smile.
Anastas had brilliant gold eyes and snow-white hair to his shoulders, now covered in blood and grime and sweat. He had the same coloring as Nikolas.
Ebenezer felt his knees weaken at the thought. The cold metal of the silver jingle bells on his earring seemed more noticeable than ever, pressing ever so lightly on his skin. Even the dark red ribbon seemed unusually cold, even though he hadn't noticed it on much colder nights. His frozen heart realized that it was missing half of it.
And that half was back home.
"You can stay with Anastas for as long as you like, Drazan. If they give you trouble come speak to me." The commander said, clearing his throat. He walked briskly out of the hospital and back out into the cold night.
He looked up at the stars. He could see some of them through the smoke that had risen into the sky. It was a pity that they had to burn that village. It ruined the constellations. Ebenezer took off his hat and dusted the snow off. His head felt cold, but oddly refreshed. He rubbed his black hair and went into his tent.
He stripped off his cape and his coat, laying them carefully on a chair. He stretched his long limbs, realizing how stiff he was. Somehow, tonight, he was more aware of himself. He realized that he was staring at his hands. They were calloused and frozen. He took out a cigar and lit it, watching the smoke cloud he puffed out. He liked these kind of cigars; their smoke was more blue than others. Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his chair at his desk and relaxed.
Suddenly, a face appeared in the blue-gray smoke. He was startled, thinking that he was just seeing things and needed some rest, but he blinked and it was staring right back at him.
"Ebenezer, you're not dreaming." The face said. The smoke solidified into a full figure, standing as tall as a man. He stood on the other side of Ebenezer's desk. He had smokey blue hair and was draped in a wispy cloak. At the edges of the fabric it turned translucent. His face was pale as snow and eyes like two coals. "Do you know who I am?"
The warlord found his voice. "Someone who isn't a result of too much Vodka, I'm sure."
The spirit rolled his eyes. "Ebenezer, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. You're in trouble."
"I must be, or else I need to check what's in the food." He replied, putting his cigar down.
"You must be serious about this. I'm here to warn you. If you continue on this rampage you'll destroy everything you've worked for." Ebenezer just looked at him. Past sighed heavily. "Your heart has turned to stone, Ebenezer. Do you even remember that it's Christmas Eve?"
The silver-eyed man blinked. "It's Christmas Eve, really?" He'd forgot that he'd forgotten. Now that he wondered about it more, he'd forgotten Christmas the year before, too.
"This is exactly my point! If you keep this way of living you'll destroy everything!" Past said, throwing up his arms. "You don't even remember the joy of Christmas!"
"There isn't much to be joyful about in war, I'm afraid." He said, taking another breath of cigar, and puffing the smoke at the ghost's face, who winced.
"There used to be things that made you joyous. You've forgotten them all. But that's why I'm here."
Before Ebenezer could protest, his eyes were clouded and the room seemed to melt away. The smell came to him first; it was the sweet heavy scent of cinnamon, the fresh scent of evergreen, sweet candles and Christmas dinner.
Then he realized when the clouds dissipated that it was a memory of his...he saw himself, much younger, much less sure of himself and much more innocent. He was carving something with a antler-handled knife, very quick and sure of his strokes in the wood. The teenage Ebenezer looked up as Nikolas came into view, who was holding something that he'd just made. It was a little tin soldier, carefully hand-painted to be silver and dark blue, who could march on his own and salute whoever was watching him.
'What're you carving, Ben?' Nick asked, curling up at Ebenezer's feet. He set the soldier down and it started marching in a circle. The white-haired boy watched his close friend.
Ebenezer looked down at the wood in his hands, turned it over in his hands, and handed it to Nikolas. 'A present.'
Nick smiled at it, turning it around. 'It goes with my soldier!' He laughed, setting it down in the middle of the circle that the tin soldier was marching in.
'It's not anywhere near as good as yours, of course.'
'He doesn't need oil and his gears won't stick.' Nick retorted, looking up into Ebenezer's silver eyes. The teen visibly stiffened. The warlord winced a little at how obvious the motion was, even though he was far beyond freezing on a glance from Nikolas now.
'But he isn't painted.' Ebenezer sighed, picking up his wooden soldier.
'I could paint him if it bothers you that much.'
'You can't paint your present!' Ebenezer replied, staring at Nick. He blushed.
Nick blinked, then laughed. 'And why not? You're always complaining on how you can't paint at all.' He stood up, pulling Ebenezer with him. They were headed outside.
'Where are we going?' The dark-haired teen asked, but then they stopped outside under the large fir tree. They were far away from the house enough that no one could see them.
'Since you gave me my present on Christmas Eve, I might as well give you yours.' Nikolas said. Ebenezer looked down at him, confused, but the white-haired teen pointed up into the tree. Ebenezer looked up and saw the mistletoe growing.
He looked back down to say something but Nick caught his lips and when they parted he laughed. He went back to the house and Ebenezer was left standing underneath the tree. He was blushing furiously.
The mist clouded over his eyes again, and the warlord found himself back in his room. He looked around for the Ghost of Christmas Past, but he couldn't be found. He looked at his cigar, smashed it into the ashtray hastily and poured himself some vodka.