Snowfall (Christmas Writing Fic)

[Azdgari]

Tiny blurbs notwithstanding, I have not written fanfiction in a while. So I wrote this purely for the fun of it, and it was fun. So I hope people enjoy it!

Snowfall


////

MORNING

////



With a yawn, Simba emerged from his dreams. He shivered off the last remnants of sleep and, blinking, strolled towards the entrance to the den. What he saw stopped him in his tracks and drew a surprised yip from his muzzle.

Snowfall, the first of the year. Must be at least a foot, Simba realized with glee. As far as his eyes could reach, the world had been wrapped in white, trussed up like a gift with all of the beauty and possibilities a lion could wish for. The Acacias donned pearly coats and dipped their arms under the weight, and entire fields disappeared, tucked under a wintry blanket. Every imperfection was eaten up: The Pridelands were a canvas. In just a couple of hours the ground would be transformed, and countless stories would be told by the brushstrokes of animals both small and large. But for now, Simba was the artist. Shouting, he hurdled into the brave new world.

He was hardly ten feet from the den when was thrown off his feet by a familiar, warm mass. Eyes narrowed in play, he shifted his weight and sent the thus-far-faceless beige mass tumbling into the snow. Laughing, he padded over and offered a paw.

"Such a gentlelion," Nala purred as she snatched his paw in hers and yanked him snout-first to join her on the ground.

Simba turned over onto his back, shaking his head to clear the snow from his mane. "Wish I could return the compliment," he said. Nala chuckled and laid her head on his chest, nuzzling him softly with closed eyes.

"I love snow," she murmured.

"I love... snow, too." Simba replied, glancing down at Nala. She peered back up at him for a moment, then playfully slapped him on the cheek before getting back to her feet. Simba stared up at the sky. Little flakes wound their way to the ground, dancing before Simba's eyes. I could lie here all day and watch the snow fall, Simba mused. Snowfall... when it tumbles... We'll love it all... At snowfall...

Kiara's lilting tones drifted down from the promontory. "Daddy, are you just gonna lie there all day, or what?" Kiara giggled and dashed down towards her parents, only to stop short as though forgetting something. She whipped her head around in slight irritation. “Kovu, c’mon! You’re worse than Simba!”

“Coming, dear,” Kovu replied as he shuffled out of the den. It was early for Kovu. The prince of the Pridelands liked his sleep, and he liked it good and long. Wakeup calls before at least halfway morning were a formula for grumpy, groggy Kovu. But despite the hour, he perked up when he saw the scene before him. “Hey, look at all this!” he exclaimed. “Kivu, get out here, little buddy!”

Kivu never needed to be called twice. The little charcoal blur sped through the den and found himself nearly neck deep in a storied, chilly substance. “SNOOOOOOW!” he shouted triumphantly. “I can’t believe it, daddy! It snowed!”

Kovu padded over to Kiara and rubbed up against her. “I know, Kivu. Just look: The whole Pridelands are covered. Think of all the fun we’ll have!” He narrowed his eyes at Kiara, who looked back with a hint of confusion.

“Race ya’!” he said through a smirk as he dashed past his mate.

Kiara grabbed onto his back paws as he ran by, upending him. “Nice try, cheater!”

“Hey, I’ll beat both you guys!” Kivu yipped as he tried to zoom past his parents, only to be caught by his mother and dragged into the familial fray.

The growls and giggles of their wrestling match drew the rest of the pride into the day. One by one, Pridelanders wafted out of the den until the entire pride of lions were enjoying themselves in the wintry fields surrounding Pride Rock.

Kiara nudged her father. “C’mon, daddy, you know you want to do it.”

“It’d be real nice,” his stepson chimed in.

“Snowday, snowday!” his niece yelped, jumping up and down.

Nala raised her head in anticipation.

Simba glanced over at Zazu. His major domo snapped to attention and offered a wink. It was all the approval Simba needed.

As he purposefully strode back up Pride Rock and out onto the promontory, the pride’s play came to a halt. The air was thick with anticipation as Simba cleared his throat.

“Attention, Pridelanders,” he began in his most regal voice. The voice was a touch deeper than usual. Simba thought it sounded more official. “As you can all see, we’ve had some inclement weather in the Pridelands.” He shifted his feet, the snow crunching softly underneath him. “Therefor, I think that we’d be endangering ourselves if we try to carry out our hunting, gathering, and our other duties.” The smile he’d been keeping at bay finally won out. “That being said, I, as king of the Pridelands, declare a snow day.”

The applause that rang out dwarfed any coronation or presentation. Word spread through the Pridelands like wildfire—or a chilly breeze—and the antelopes sighed in relief. The lions’ pacifism sparked a chain reaction, and throughout the Pridelands the predators decided against soiling the snow with blood. There was just no place in that beautiful white portrait for crimson.

Mufasa said that was his favorite thing of all to do. Simba grinned. This king stuff isn’t all bad.


////

DAY

////


Kovu tried not to laugh. He really did. But when Vitani stepped back from her work, he couldn’t help himself. His fit was short lived, however: She wasted little time in stuffing the scraggly, misshapen green mass down his throat.

“YOU try making wreathes, Kovu!” She huffed. “I mean, do I LOOK like I was meant for a domestic life?”

It was a fair question, and it gave Kovu pause. Unbelievable as it was, she actually did look more… homely? Not in the sense that she was unattractive, but that she was comfortable with herself and her life. Domesticated though she may be, there was still no way Vitani was ever going to spend hours in front of the pond fussing over her reflection. But she always had a sort of rustic beauty to her, and the wandering males that made their way to the pride often took a pointed interest in her. Maybe one of these times she’ll give one of them the time of day, Kovu thought to himself, half laughing, half hoping, instead of beating them to pulps.

Kovu spat out some ungodly combination of grass, acacia leaves, twigs, sap, and what tasted like a dead rodent of some sort. He didn’t ask. “Maybe you should ask Nala for help?” He glanced over at where Nala blissfully labored a stone’s throw away.

“Hmmmm,” Vitani smirked. “Now there’s a shocker, Kovu thinks Nala’s best.” She lowered her shoulders confrontationally, but she was only playing. I think.

Kovu smiled genuinely. “Not always. When it involves dismembering or clawing or beating to a pulp or infiltrating or playing stone-checkers,” for Vitani was bizarrely dominant in the league of stone-checkers, “You’re my number one.” His smile turned slightly guilty, as if offering a deal. “But maybe for decorating… you’re not the frilliest lioness around here.”

“Yeah. Fine,” Vitani huffed.

Kovu nodded. “Hey sis, what’s that behind you?”

Vitani spun her head around to look at a nonexistent phenomena. She turned back and snapped, “What the hmmmphhhhh.” Her response ended prematurely as Kovu shoveled a pawful of snow into and around her snout.

Kovu chuckled his self-assured chuckle he always chuckled when he was victorious. “And that’s for shoving the wreath in my mouth.”

That chuckle drove Vitani crazy. She spat out a snoutful of snow and gave a smile that was all bite. “What’s that Kovu? You need a giant lug of an excuse for a lion dismembered? Why, I’d love to!”


////


Yikes, Nala thought as she watched Vitani body slam her son in law. That’s gotta hurt.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Kivu flinched. He turned to look up at Nala. “Do you wish you had a brother?”

Nala stopped with the wreath she was crafting, caught off guard by the question. I don’t know… am I?

“Y’know, I suppose I do, Kivu.” She replied, looking at the wreath but seeing something else, something far off. “It would certainly have made things different for me.” She ruffled his tuft of hair. “I’ve had a hectic life. You’re lucky, things are nice and quiet for you.”

Kivu nodded his head impatiently. “Yeah, that’s what you guys always say. I don’t buy it. I want action!” Nala giggled.

“You remind me a lot of a certain lion I used to know, Kivu.”

“Really?”

Nala nodded. “He was loud, and energetic, and brave to a fault. I went everywhere and did everything with him.” She gestured with a paw. “We raced with cheetahs, played with the rhinos, and did everything under the sun together. He even said,” she chuckled, “that danger was his middle name.”

Kivu’s mouth was agape with amazement.

“We even visited an elephant graveyard once.”

“No way!” Kivu was bouncing from paw to paw. “What was it like?

“Scary. You wouldn’t believe the size of the bones in there, Kivu.”

“How come my parents never let me do stuff like that?” Kivu pouted.

Nala grinned. “Whoever said our parents let us do it?”

Kivu’s eyes widened. “I gotta meet this lion someday!”

“Maybe someday,” Nala purred, returning her attention to her work.


////



“No, no, no Simba! Fa’ da’ sake o’ da’ gods, what ‘ave you dun to da’ poor animal?” Rafiki shook his head violently and punctuated his exclamation by cracking Simba on the head.

“Ouch! Rafiki, gimme a break, c’mon, it’s not that bad is it?”

Kiara winced. It was pretty bad. Rafiki heard tell of the snowday and had brought all of his dyes to Pride Rock so that the lions could decorate their den in the spare time. Kiara loved the festivity of it, but her father wasn’t the most artistic lion. His drawing of Sahnta Claws, the mythical lion of gift giving, had actually been passable while Simba worked on the body. The face, on the other hand, gave the distinct impression that Sahnta had been in some sort of prison rules brawl. Or possibly had caught the lion-gout.

Kiara gave her dad a pat on the back as Rafiki worked vigorously to perform aesthetic surgery on the mangled mammal. “The king of all the Pridelands, brought low by some dye and a rock.”

“Well, at least I’m not as bad as Vitani, right?” He muttered.

Kiara brought over a couple coconuts filled with dye and stuck Simba’s paw into one. “C’mon, daddy, I’ll help you. We can do one together!”

“Just start with the body the way you did before. Yes, just like that,” she said encouragingly as Simba hesitantly outlined the shape of a lion. “A little narrower there,” she urged.

Not awful. Kiara thought to herself as her dad worked. I suppose when drawing a lion from an old cubs’ tale is the greatest of your worries, you’re a pretty lucky lion! And the beauty was that it was the greatest of their worries. The Pridelands had existed in perpetual balance as long as she could remember. The predators didn’t overhunt the prey, and the prey didn’t deplete the vegetable resources of the Pridelands. Kiara’s own journey through pregnancy and delivery had gone off without a hitch. The worst thing that had happened that year had been Zazu’s breakup with Izze, the swanky minded Cormorant who everybody agreed had no business with Zazu, but he adored her anyway because that’s just the way Zazu is.

“Done with the body,” Simba said, examining his handiwork. “Now for the head,” he reached down to begin.

“Uh uh uh uh,” Kiara chided. She put her paw on his and gently guided it down to begin drawing. “Let me help you.”

As they gracefully slid their hands over the stone, Kiara found herself humming to herself. Simba raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help but join in.

“Hm hm hmmmm, hm hm hmmmm, we are one…”


////

NIGHT

////


Vitani couldn’t decide what she liked best about fire. There was the pragmatic, the vital warmth it so readily provided. The aesthetic too, the plumes of smoke and the shadows of those plumes, the whorls that possessed the walls of the den to frolic and dance for the lions. Vitani of all lionesses knew its other applications, some more malevolent than others.

Although it was a project, fire was traditional, and nobody in the pride wanted to go without it. On a snowy night with the pride huddled together, there was something intrinsic and beautiful about it.

“Kivu, hush!” chided Kiara, picking up her cub by the nape of his neck and plopping him into her lap. “It’s about to start!”

The collective din of conversation lulled and came to close as the Rafiki slowly walked up to present himself in front of the assembled pride. Standing loosely at the rear wall of the den, he began,

Twas’ long ago, and fah away
on a night mos’ cold and dahk
The snow had fallen hahd dat day
Ta’ cover branch and bahk.

And all alone a cub lay still
No den but ground and snow
His cries rang through da’ night so shrill
Dat a passing lion slowed.

He asked da’ cub what was da’ matter
“Why are you all alone?
I hear you making such a clatter
What’s kept you from yah home?”

The cub explained he had no maddah
Faddah long since gone
As for home, he had no oddah
But he’d gladly leave at dawn.

Da’ lion was quite moved wid pity
He said, “Cub, what’s your name?”
The cub’s cold eyes got big and pretty
“I’m Sahnta. I’m glad you came.”

Da’ lion took Sahnta to his den
And warmed him up quite nice
And never was a dere ever a lion
As thankful as Sahnta dat night.

So for da’ rest of his days, and even after
Dis Sahnta Claws gave back
His gifts were made wid joy and laughter
For Dese things, he had a knack.

And to dis day, cubs kind and true
Can cross dere claws real tight
And hope as hard as dey can do
Dat Sahnta comes dat night.

The pride was captivated. Rafiki’s shadow fretted behind him as he gestured wildly, and with the flames’ light flickering on his face he ceased to be a Mandrill altogether; instead he was some spirit, an ancient raconteur imparting great wisdom of times past or perhaps times to come.

“I know that I speak for everyone when I say that you’ve outdone yourself, Rafiki!” Zazu proclaimed over the applause of the Pride. “We’re all ever so thankful for your tales this evening.”

Rafiki chuckled. “Zazu, you know ‘tis my pleasure. But ‘tis late, and I must make my way home.”

Zazu shook his head in horror. “Why that simply won’t do Rafiki! It’s dreadful out there, you’ll catch your death! Stay with us for the night!” But Rafiki was already out the den entrance, his crazed laugh echoing into the black of the night.

As the Pride slowly drifted off to sleep, the royal family stayed huddled by the fire. Kovu shook his head. “Man, that mandrill can tell a story.” He gently patted Kivu on the head. “You’re lucky little man, I didn’t get anything like that when I was a cub.” Kivu’s only response was deep and rhythmic breathing. Typical. Either going a hundred miles an hour or zero miles an hour, Kovu thought to himself.

“Let your son sleep,” Kiara whispered, already half asleep herself. “Or he’ll get you back come morning time.”

Kovu cringed. Early wakeup calls. “Mmm, maybe you’re right,” he said, scooching close to his mate. He thought for a moment, and then, deciding to risk it, reached over and carefully scooped up the slumbering Kivu and wedged him in between his parents. Kivu stirred, but didn’t wake. Safe, Kovu thought, shutting his eyes.

“Mmmm, how come you never tell stories like that Simba?” purred Nala. Her head lay on his belly as they rested in a T shape. Her head bounced up and down gently as Simba stifled his laughs for fear of waking the Pride. “Oh c’mon,” she pressed. “It’d be romantic!”

Simba sighed. “Well, you know me. Hopeless romantic.” Nala allowed her eyelids to sink.

“Twas the night of the snowfall
and all through the den…
not a creature was stirring,
not even Kivu, and then…”

[Azdgari]

*taps mic* is this thing on? Anybody out there? x3

[FlipMode]

Boo man! Gedoff the stage!

I actually read this a few days ago but I don't think I had logged in when I did and you know... Effort.
I don't think I have much in the way of criticism, it was just a fun and heartwarming read, even down to the way that

Spoiler: show

the hunting was called off for that day as to not tarnish the snow and joy it brung

I also liked that you showed each character at a time.

Good show. When I was looking for an idea for mine I kept trying to think of a good plot but in the end it's much easier and enjoyable to go for a more simple "Singing in the snow" kind of thing and in that regard, this was better than anyone would have any right to expect.
Now I want snow! Also... That title... Yay for Skyfall puns.

[Azdgari]

Hahahaha, dude I didn't even think of that as a pun. Absolutely hilarious idea though. I'm definitely hunting back through the story and putting a reference to that in. 'Tanks for the feedback, Fip. <3

Edit: SIMBADELE?

[quote]I could lie here all day and watch the snow fall, Simba mused. Snowfall... when it tumbles... We'll love it all... At snowfall...[/quote]

[FlipMode]

Well now it's perfect. Shakesperian!

[DGFone]

Great story, I have to admit!

...But there's always that small knowledge in the back of your head that in the savanna, 0 of the species are adapted to survive snow conditions.

Ah well, hakuna matata!

[Azdgari]

Lions also can't talk, and rarely give their cubs to mandrill to be held up over a precipice in front of hundreds of other animals... that one gets me every time.

[YFWE]

^THIS IS MY FAVORITE POST IN THE HISTORY OF THIS FORUM

[Regulus]

[quote="DGFone"]Great story, I have to admit!

...But there's always that small knowledge in the back of your head that in the savanna, 0 of the species are adapted to survive snow conditions. \[/quote]

All the more reason for Scar to create a weather control machine during his exile. Be prepared... for really cold weather.

I think his plan was kinda ineffective.