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batsutousaiTitle: Candles To Light Your Way
Series: The Shortest Day
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/manga
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Spoilers, canonical character death, grief, new beginnings
Summary: Five times when tragedy left them dreading the longest night, and the people who reminded them that the sun would always rise again.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The poem is The Shortest Day, by Susan Cooper, and doesn't belong to me. (It has become nearly synonymous with the season, for me, so I couldn't not include it.)
Amestris & Ishval
-0-
When they'd been putting everything together to help the Ishvalans rebuild, the one thing none of them considered, was how they intended to weather the longest night.
The military, Riza knew from her many years of service, both on and off the battlefield, didn't really believe in observing what they considered to be useless holidays – those ones to do with the seasons, or holdovers from the local religions that the tide of conquest had nearly snuffed out – but since the people were determined, the military made some allowances, like giving officers the day off – or a half-day, more often, though Bradley hadn't even granted her that – and passing out an extra share of rations for those soldiers in the battlefield.
Now, staring down at the extra rations that had been shipped out with the last supply run, Riza felt her stomach sinking, because one of the last things she wanted to do, was spend another winter solstice in Ishval with only an extra meal of military-grade mystery meat to suggest at some hopeful future. (At least, this time, she wouldn't have a sniper rifle balanced against one shoulder.)
"Grim pickings," Breda commented, poking his nose into one of the little boxes. "Couldn't they have at least given us good food?"
Roy snorted from where he was working on the last-minute paperwork Riza had just shoved under his nose, with the promise that she wouldn't make him burn any midnight oil to finish it on a holiday. (Not that they really had sufficient oil supplies to keep his little light lit all night, or wood enough for even a small campfire burning all night, which was a whole different heartbreak.)
Miles just shook his head. "No use complaining," he said, with all the wisdom of someone who had spent years at a post where this sort of 'holiday celebration' was common. "Extra food is extra food, even if it is from the bottom of the barrel."
"Does it worry anyone else that I'm willing to take that literally?" Breda said, closing up the box in his hands.
"Stop complaining, Second Lieutenant," Riza ordered, because she could only take his complaints about the quality of their rations for so long a day.
A loud call went up in the camp, of vehicles coming their way from the north-east, and Riza wasn't the only one to check her weapon as she dropped everything else and ducked out of the supply tent to see.
They had to wait a bit, dust kicked up from the rapid pace blocking their view, but Riza's sharp eyes finally caught sight of familiar hair, glinting gold in the light of the already-setting sun, and called, "Friends!" as she clicked the safety of her gun back into place.
"Lieutenant?" Roy asked, even as he followed her lead in lowering his own weapon. (A gun, because he'd studiously refused to even bring his gloves to Ishval. Not that he really needed them any more, so long as someone had a match or a lighter to spark.)
"The Elrics," she explained, and he wasn't the only one to relax.
Edward and Alphonse were indeed in the beat-up farm truck that came to a stop a little in front of where Riza and the other officers had walked to wait – Edward standing up in the back, while Alphonse sat in the passenger seat next to an unfamiliar civilian – and a line of at least five other vehicles followed along behind them, spreading out to park. Both brothers were grinning, bright and wide, and then Edward called, "Hey, Mustang! We thought you guys might appreciate some Yule cheer!" and tossed something thin and white towards Roy.
He caught it, barely, with a frown, before holding up a single candle, the sort that had been carefully measured to burn through the long night of the winter solstice.
"We brought candles, food, and wood," Alphonse added, as the dust from their arrival mostly settled around their vehicle train, and the drivers and passengers started unloading crockery, unlabelled crates and bags, and more than enough wood for a bonfire to get them through the night. "I thought, since the winter solstice is about shaking off the shadows of the past year and looking forward to the new, and that's...pretty much what all this–" he motioned towards where the buildings of the nearest Ishval district started, not quite two miles from the edge of camp "–is about, you deserved to make it a good one."
"And here I thought," Edward said with a massive, shit-eating grin on his face, "that the winter solstice was about that poor, poor sun god–"
Alphonse spun and took a swipe at him, which Edward dodged with a laugh. "I was four, Edward!"
Out of nowhere, a spanner slammed into the back of Edward's head, and he crouched down, curling into a ball and clutching his head, moaning about the pain and how not-very-Yule-friendly that had been.
"Shut up," Winry ordered as she slipped out of the crowd of civilians and the soldiers who Roy had motioned forward to help with the unpacking. She offered a small smile towards Riza and her fellow officers, saying, "The winter solstice is supposed to be spent with your friends and family, right? And starting again fresh? We weren't sure how many Ishvalans had come back, but there should, hopefully, be enough food to go around, if you think they'll come to an Amestrisan celebration?"
"I believe," Miles said, something odd in his voice, "that whatever celebrations the Ishvalans had planned may already be under way. However, I think," he continued, and Riza saw him looking towards the piles of unloaded 'Yule cheer', "that they will appreciate the chance to start over and set aside old wrongs. Some may well come."
The children – young adults, really; this hadn't been an easy year, but all three of them seemed to have grown into it well – grinned at that, clearly pleased that their idea – and Riza didn't doubt it was an idea birthed by them, and not their neighbours, who they'd likely spent days, if not weeks, talking around – was approved of.
"Let's get everything unloaded and set up," Roy ordered. "Major, if you'll go into the city and pass on the offer to join us in feasting and lighting fires to get us through the long night?" He glanced up at the sky, already painted in shades of red and orange as the sun started to sink below the rocky horizon. "We don't have much daylight left."
"I'll go help with the food," Breda announced.
Edward and Alphonse both stepped forward to catch him as he tried to head past them, Edward grinning like he'd caught something good, and Alphonse wearing an easy-going smile, which somehow managed to convey that the steel he'd once worn hadn't left him entirely. "Why don't you help us stack the wood for the bonfire," Alphonse suggested. "Isn't it good for the men to see one of their officers working just as hard as the rest of them?"
"Weren't you nicer, before?" Breda complained as he was led towards the centre of camp, where the wood was already being carted by grinning soldiers.
Edward, tellingly, laughed.
"We should help too, sir," Riza pointed out to Roy, only to look back and find him...gone.
Frowning, she went to help direct the food preparations.
Either the Ishvalans had been looking for the chance to ease their relations with the Amestrisans, or they had been sorely lacking in their own preparations – or a mix of both – because Riza didn't really have a count of their current population, but the group that Miles led back into the camp was...larger than she had expected, if she was being honest. They brought some food with them – bread and vegetables – and armfuls of branches from the low-growing, hearty little bushes that served as the only real source of wood in the barren landscape; part of their own winter solstice preparations, Riza would bet.
The group working on the bonfire quickly set about adding the new fuel, accepting the Ishvalans into their number with only a brief hesitation, but those who were setting out the feast sort of stared at the new group across the folding tables and piles of crates that they'd found to serve as a buffet line.
Riza was about to go over and try...she really wasn't certain what – peacefully moderating disputes was not one of her strong suits – when Winry stepped forward, one hand extended. "Hello," she said to the elderly woman who appeared to be in charge of that group of Ishvalans, "I'm Winry. Winry Rockbell."
The name sparked a reaction among the Ishvalans, turning and whispering to each other too low for Riza to catch, but the lack of attacking suggested it hadn't been a bad reaction.
And then the elderly woman handed off her bowl, stepped forward, and took Winry's extended hand between both of hers, bowing over it. "I am Shan," she said, her voice choked, "and I owe you thanks, and an apolo–"
And then Winry bent forward and wrapped Shan in a hug, which apparently shocked the woman into silence. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with tears, but she was smiling. "I'll accept your thanks, for them, but I don't need your apology, and neither do they."
Shan bowed her head again, a smile pulling at the weathered lines of her face. "I see them in your kindness; I believe those doctors would have been proud to see the woman you have become."
"My mum and dad got killed when soldiers took them to the battlefield," a far, far younger Winry had once told Riza, her eyes dry, but so much sadness and anger in the down-turned line of her mouth.
Now, nearly grown, she smiled as a tear trailed down her cheek, forgiving someone who would have taken the blame that Riza had seen her once so willing to lay at anyone's feet. This was everything Riza had once been taught the winter solstice was meant to be, and she was grateful to be able to watch it unfold, to see the Ishvalans and Amestrisans – old rivals – being introduced to each other by a girl who had been born anew from strife; the embodiment of the dawn following the longest night.
Yes, Riza suspected that Shan was right: Winry's parents would have been proud of her.
Roy showed up just before the last of the sun's light had vanished, Edward and Alphonse walking on either side of him, each carrying a crate of – Riza realised as they passed her on their way to the unlit wood pyre – candles with little skirts around them, likely alchemised to serve as guards against dripping wax. "Bear with me for a moment, please," Roy requested, while the Elrics walked the circle, handing out candles to everyone, getting people in the front to pass them back to those behind them.
"I know traditions for the winter solstice vary across the country, but the most common theme seems to be a flame to see us through the long night. As the villagers of Resembool have supplied us with plenty of candles, I thought it only fair that everyone get to light their own, personal candle before we light the bonfire, which you can then keep with you throughout the night, or add it to the bonfire, as is your choice. However, in keeping with this night's theme of coming together and learning to forgive the wrongs of the old year, forging friendships that will, I hope, last for many years yet to come, we only have one match."
He held the match up, high enough that most people could see, before striking it against a coarse strip he'd clearly torn from a matchbox and setting it alight. He used it to light the candle he'd been holding in his other hand – the same one Edward had thrown him earlier, Riza expected – then held that out in front of him, while he blew out the match.
Edward, Alphonse, and Winry – who they must have caught while they were passing out the candles – stepped forward and held their candles to Roy's, lighting them, then all four spread out around the circle ringing the pyre, letting others light their candles from the ones they were holding. Those people turned to offer their flame to the people behind them, sharing the flame around without care for race or creed in the darkness, until everyone was holding a lit candle.
Once they'd all turned back to where Roy was standing next to the pyre, he nodded, then turned, took a step back, and tossed his candle into the pyre.
There followed a moment of silence, everyone holding their breath as they watched that little candle flame vanish into the pile, before Riza saw Roy press his hands together, low and unobtrusive enough that most people would have missed it.
The pyre burst into flames, all at once, throwing the whole clearing into bright, golden relief, and a cheer went up.
"Now, let us eat!" Roy called, which won him another cheer, this one accompanied by people turning towards the buffet line.
Some people stopped long enough to toss their candle into the blaze, while others stayed to watch the leaping flames. Across the clearing, Riza saw Edward toss his candle into the bonfire with a smile, while Alphonse stood next to him and held his close, clearly one of those who intended to keep it with him the whole night. Not far from them, she saw Winry and her grandmother – she hadn't realised the woman had come, though it made sense – standing with the Ishvalan woman from earlier, Shan; Mrs Rockbell and Shan had both thrown their candles into the bonfire, but Winry still had hers.
Roy approached her, backlit by a fire, for once, that didn't stand for all the sins staining both their hands. He nodded to her hands, calling her attention to the candle she was still holding, and asked, "What are you planning to do with that, Lieutenant?"
Riza looked down at it, remembered the nights of the winter solstice after her mum had died, when she'd been forced to sneak a candle into her room and constantly light it and blow it out and then light it again, to keep from being discovered and having it taken away, suffering a lecture about the waste of perfectly good wax, or the childishness in celebrating pointless holidays, because her father refused to acknowledge them. She remembered that long, terrible night years ago, rifle against her shoulder and an extra serving of cold rations laying, half eaten, next to her; how she'd longed, then, for those precious candles of her childhood, or even just the box of matches that she'd always used far too many of.
She tightened her fingers around the base, under the ingenious little hand guard that meant she could carry it with her all night, without fear of wax burns. "I think I'll be keeping it, sir," she replied.
Roy was smiling when she looked back up at him, no judgement, just understanding, and she wondered if he regretted using his candle to light the pyre. But then he said, "We should probably help Major Miles keep order," and she realised she'd been people watching too long.
She straightened and gave a short nod, before turning to lead the way towards where Miles, an Ishvalan she didn't know, and one of the Resembool villagers were trying to direct people, with limited success. All three looked relieved to have help, and Roy quickly set about distributing them, pulling any other officers he found out of the queue to help.
When Riza finally had a plate of food, she found a cleared spot of ground near the bonfire and sat, taking a moment to dig out a little space in the loose dirt in front of her for her candle and setting it there, before she started on her plate.
"Do you mind if we join you?" Winry asked, and Riza glanced up to find her and the Elrics standing there with their plates, Alphonse and Winry still holding their candles.
"Please," Riza replied, motioning for them to sit, which they did.
Winry and Alphonse followed her lead in digging out little spaces for the candles, not far from her own, while Edward watched with a fond smile, then they all started on their food.
Roy joined them next, not bothering to ask, and Miles followed on his heels, adding his candle to the little grouping in the middle, once he'd sat.
Breda joined them not long after they'd all finished, grinning widely, and said, "I've been hearing about some seriously weird winter solstice traditions."
"Ooh!" Edward sat up, his eyes impossibly bright in the firelight, and Alphonse groaned next to him. "Have you heard about the orchard blessings, yet?"
Breda blinked. "No?"
"Brother, please," Alphonse complained, which just seemed to make Breda even more interested. (Riza would have thought Alphonse knew better.)
Edward nudged him with his elbow, then explained, "It's a thing the southern farmers do. Couples walk around their orchards, one of them telling off each tree and threatening to cut it down, and the other one, who's carrying dough for a fucking delicious cake, by the way, tells them to spare the tree because it's branches are going to be as heavy with fruit, that coming spring, as their hands are with the dough."
Breda flashed him a wide grin. "Hadn't heard that one, no," he admitted. "It's pretty excellent."
"What did you do when you were growing up?" Winry asked politely, and Alphonse looked a little relieved.
Breda scratched his chin. "Well, I'm from near East City, so I'd bet our celebrations were pretty similar: Candles in every window?"
"Yup. Sun god?" Edward asked back, only to yelp when Alphonse elbowed him in the ribs.
Breda laughed. "Yeah. Had to give the healers enough light to see his battle wounds to heal, so he could get up and fight the darkness again."
"I told you it was battle wounds," Alphonse muttered.
"I still prefer the chariot breaking."
"You only like that one because you couldn't think of a better one."
"Both of you shut up, before I pull my spanner back out," Winry ordered, and both young men ducked their heads, mumbling apologies.
Breda glanced at Miles. "I bet Fort Briggs' celebrations are pretty slim."
Miles shrugged. "In terms of food, yes, but it's a northern tradition to cut down an evergreen tree and drag it indoors to dress up with candles and tinsel. So, every year, about a week before the solstice, we send out a scouting party and they find the perfect tree, then drag it back inside. We shove all the tables in the mess out of the way and set it up, and everyone takes out whatever tinsel or decorations they might have and we spend the week decorating it. When the sun sets on the night of the solstice, we all light candles and bring them into the mess and put them on the tree, and then we either leave back to our duties or sleep, or a few people pull out games and set up in the mess, or sit with friends and watch the tree."
"...wow," Breda finally managed, and Riza kind of understood. "That is weirdly touching."
Miles shot him a flat look. "I can see to it that you get to enjoy the tradition next year, Second Lieutenant."
Edward snickered while Breda quickly shook his head, and Riza ducked her head to hide a smile.
"What about Central City?" Alphonse asked. "We've never actually spent the solstice there."
Roy cleared his throat. "Everyone gets a candle to light, and we leave them in the window to scare away the darkness."
"That's not too different from the eastern customs, is it?" Winry asked.
"Not particularly," Roy agreed, nodding.
"They are both a little different from the Ishvalan custom," Miles offered, before motioning towards the bonfire. "Wood is scarce, and candles too precious, so everyone collects what burnable waste they can throughout the year – be it extra wood, old clothing, or paper goods – then they bring it to the town square and light a bonfire to keep burning all night."
"So, this really is a mixing of traditions," Edward said, unusually quiet, for him, as he looked towards the bonfire.
"You even got the west," Breda offered, and they all looked over at him. "Everyone brings food and they throw a party with their neighbours, making as much noise as they can to scare away the night and wake the sun."
"And you haven't moved there, yet?" Edward joked, back to his old self.
Breda made a threatening gesture, to which Edward responded with a loud laugh. Alphonse tried to get him to stop being a jerk, while Winry rolled her eyes and Miles and Roy both sighed, clearly resigned.
Riza looked over this group – this circle of people she sometimes let herself call friends – and caught herself smiling along with them, coughing a laugh at their stupid jokes and the familiar bickering, while the flames of their quartet of candles and the massive blaze of the bonfire lit their faces and held back the darkness.
It seemed years ago that she'd been staring down at the ration boxes, her stomach sinking; if this night was the promise of their future, then she would embrace it, and gladly.
For the first time since that lonely night with her sniper rifle, Riza found herself looking forward to what the new year would bring.
So the shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive,
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us — Listen!!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!
To you and yours, I wish a blessed Yule and a happy New Year!
Thanks for all your kind words and support!
~Batsutousai ^.^x
-o0o-
Our Lights Yet Shine
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