Post by sagecats on Jun 9, 2012 2:54:06 GMT -5
Just wanted to share this because it's the first fan fiction I have ever written. I don't usually do this kind of thing. It was inspired by a night a drinking tea and thinking about what might've happened to Iroh after the war. It's a rather short story, but here it is.
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After the 100 year war had ended, Iroh did in fact re-conquer his tea shop. For many wonderful years, he served tea prepared with great care to anyone who stopped by, and it quickly became known as the best tea shop ever to have existed in Ba Sing Se, and as far as the locals knew, anywhere.
Iroh’s favorite visitors were of course his nephew and family. Zuko, Mai, and their young daughter would sit in his shop for hours, sipping tea and listening to his tales, and he never felt happier. Sometimes, he would play the tsungi horn for them. After all these years, Zuko still refused to play, only because he enjoyed listening to his uncle play it more. Iroh would even try to dance around as he played, causing his usually stoic grand-niece to laugh. However, the war had made him tired, and he had to rest a lot more than usual.
On one visit, Zuko’s daughter noticed that her father seemed anxious and upset, but he was trying to hide it. As they neared the Jasmine Dragon, she finally got up the courage to ask what was wrong. Zuko told her that Uncle was sick. She did not worry immediately; to her, being sick meant having a cold or a fever, and Iroh had plenty of hot tea around that would cure his cold in no time. She wondered why her father worried so much. When she saw her Uncle (she called him Uncle since “Great Uncle” was too hard to say when she was young), she ran to his bedside to give him a hug. He laughed and smiled at her enthusiasm, telling her how big she had gotten since last time. The visit seemed normal to her, except that Iroh spent much of it in bed, and this time, they had to bring him tea.
One day, Zuko’s daughter saw that he had tears in his eyes and a piece of paper in his hand. This time, she understood what was wrong. Zuko put his arm around her and Mai soon joined them. The three of them sat together in silence by the turtleduck pond, listening to the gentle breeze as it carried fallen leaves down to the water.
One year later, Zuko and his daughter were walking through a field. She carried a basket of various items, though she did not know what they were for. Her father had been very solemn all morning, and she was surprised when he asked her to accompany him on a walk. Mai kissed them goodbye and gave her father an understanding look, telling him not to worry and that she would take care of things while he was gone.
Zuko stopped walking suddenly, at the base of small hill. There was a tree at the top of it, and he told her that this was the right place.
As Iroh lay on his bed exactly one year before, he wrote to Zuko. He knew he would not be able to see him again before his time was up, and he wanted to make sure that he would still come to visit him, after he was gone. He told Zuko of a field just outside the Fire Nation royal palace, where he would watch his son Lu Ten play under a tree, and later they would race through the field together. Zuko received this letter right before he got the news of Iroh’s passing. He promised that for the rest of his life, he would go to that tree to visit his Uncle.
Zuko’s daughter rested beside the basket, watching her father who sat motionless in front of the tree with his eyes closed in thought. She was very patient, a trait she had inherited from her mother, but after a while she wondered if he had fallen asleep.
“Father?” she said quietly. He gave her a small smile, and nodded to the basket. She handed it to him, and he opened it, removing a small tea set and a painting of Iroh. He set the painting at the base of the tree, looking at it for a few moments before returning to the tea. He never was able to make it as well as Iroh, but after years of practice, he had managed to make a palatable cup of tea. Iroh had been so proud on that day.
Zuko poured the hot tea into three cups, placing one in front of Iroh’s painting and handing another to his daughter. She recognized the familiar scent of ginseng. They sipped the tea together, and when they had finished, his daughter looked over at the picture of her Uncle.
“I miss him. He made good tea,” she said.
“I miss him too,” Zuko replied, he replied, smiling in spite of his sadness. He turned to the painting.
“Uncle,” he began, “I hope you like the tea. I’m still learning,” he continued, but was forced to stop when his voice cracked. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that began to fall from his eyes. His daughter placed an arm around him.
“Remember that song Uncle would sing to you sometimes when he came to visit?” he asked his daughter. She nodded, as she wiped a tear away quickly. “Can you sing it for him?”
She nodded again. Looking into the eyes of Iroh in the portrait, she began:
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After the 100 year war had ended, Iroh did in fact re-conquer his tea shop. For many wonderful years, he served tea prepared with great care to anyone who stopped by, and it quickly became known as the best tea shop ever to have existed in Ba Sing Se, and as far as the locals knew, anywhere.
Iroh’s favorite visitors were of course his nephew and family. Zuko, Mai, and their young daughter would sit in his shop for hours, sipping tea and listening to his tales, and he never felt happier. Sometimes, he would play the tsungi horn for them. After all these years, Zuko still refused to play, only because he enjoyed listening to his uncle play it more. Iroh would even try to dance around as he played, causing his usually stoic grand-niece to laugh. However, the war had made him tired, and he had to rest a lot more than usual.
On one visit, Zuko’s daughter noticed that her father seemed anxious and upset, but he was trying to hide it. As they neared the Jasmine Dragon, she finally got up the courage to ask what was wrong. Zuko told her that Uncle was sick. She did not worry immediately; to her, being sick meant having a cold or a fever, and Iroh had plenty of hot tea around that would cure his cold in no time. She wondered why her father worried so much. When she saw her Uncle (she called him Uncle since “Great Uncle” was too hard to say when she was young), she ran to his bedside to give him a hug. He laughed and smiled at her enthusiasm, telling her how big she had gotten since last time. The visit seemed normal to her, except that Iroh spent much of it in bed, and this time, they had to bring him tea.
One day, Zuko’s daughter saw that he had tears in his eyes and a piece of paper in his hand. This time, she understood what was wrong. Zuko put his arm around her and Mai soon joined them. The three of them sat together in silence by the turtleduck pond, listening to the gentle breeze as it carried fallen leaves down to the water.
One year later, Zuko and his daughter were walking through a field. She carried a basket of various items, though she did not know what they were for. Her father had been very solemn all morning, and she was surprised when he asked her to accompany him on a walk. Mai kissed them goodbye and gave her father an understanding look, telling him not to worry and that she would take care of things while he was gone.
Zuko stopped walking suddenly, at the base of small hill. There was a tree at the top of it, and he told her that this was the right place.
As Iroh lay on his bed exactly one year before, he wrote to Zuko. He knew he would not be able to see him again before his time was up, and he wanted to make sure that he would still come to visit him, after he was gone. He told Zuko of a field just outside the Fire Nation royal palace, where he would watch his son Lu Ten play under a tree, and later they would race through the field together. Zuko received this letter right before he got the news of Iroh’s passing. He promised that for the rest of his life, he would go to that tree to visit his Uncle.
Zuko’s daughter rested beside the basket, watching her father who sat motionless in front of the tree with his eyes closed in thought. She was very patient, a trait she had inherited from her mother, but after a while she wondered if he had fallen asleep.
“Father?” she said quietly. He gave her a small smile, and nodded to the basket. She handed it to him, and he opened it, removing a small tea set and a painting of Iroh. He set the painting at the base of the tree, looking at it for a few moments before returning to the tea. He never was able to make it as well as Iroh, but after years of practice, he had managed to make a palatable cup of tea. Iroh had been so proud on that day.
Zuko poured the hot tea into three cups, placing one in front of Iroh’s painting and handing another to his daughter. She recognized the familiar scent of ginseng. They sipped the tea together, and when they had finished, his daughter looked over at the picture of her Uncle.
“I miss him. He made good tea,” she said.
“I miss him too,” Zuko replied, he replied, smiling in spite of his sadness. He turned to the painting.
“Uncle,” he began, “I hope you like the tea. I’m still learning,” he continued, but was forced to stop when his voice cracked. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that began to fall from his eyes. His daughter placed an arm around him.
“Remember that song Uncle would sing to you sometimes when he came to visit?” he asked his daughter. She nodded, as she wiped a tear away quickly. “Can you sing it for him?”
She nodded again. Looking into the eyes of Iroh in the portrait, she began:
“Leaves from the vine,
falling so slow,
Like fragile tiny shells,
drifting in the foam
Little soldier boy,
come marching home
Brave soldier boy,
comes marching home.”
falling so slow,
Like fragile tiny shells,
drifting in the foam
Little soldier boy,
come marching home
Brave soldier boy,
comes marching home.”