Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5210996.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Krabat_|_The_Satanic_Mill_-_Otfried_Preußler, Gravity_Falls
  Relationship:
      Bill_Cipher/Dipper_Pines
  Character:
      Dipper_Pines, Bill_Cipher
  Additional Tags:
      AU, Krabat!AU, Rating_Might_Change, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added,
      Magic, Human_Bill_Cipher
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-14 Updated: 2015-12-02 Chapters: 4/? Words: 4108
****** The Mill By The Black Waters ******
by schierlingsbecher
Summary
     War has the land in its unyielding grip, many have lost their
     families, homes and hope. Dipper, a Wends' boy, wanders the lands
     with his sister Mabel and his best friend Wendy, begging and doing
     day's work. When a voice calls him to the small village of Blackcholm
     in his dreams, he's too curious not to go.
     The Krabat!AU nobody asked for and that I'm writing anyway.
Notes
     I just fell into this fandom some time ago, but I really needed to
     contribute, so here's my attempt. If you don't know the story of
     Krabat, you might wanna google it, it's really good - the Otfried
     Preußler one is the most known I think.
     I'm writing this as a side-project, next to FOUR other things, so
     please don't expect updates to be fast or regular. Sorry for the
     incovenience.
     Also, English is not my mother tongue and so I can't really stay in
     the language of the time (18th century). I translate the names of
     places like I want to, sorry for people who don't like that. Reviews
     and comments are highly appreciated, I actually don't know what I'm
     doing.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Dipper!”
The voice was persistent, a bodiless sensation.
“Dipper!!”
Around him was nothing but darkness, enveloping him tight and cold.
“Dipper!”
His name less rang through the void than rolling over his skin, making him
shiver and sweat.
It called him, tugging at his very being.
“Come to Blackcholm. Come to Blackcholm and search for the Mill. Your harm it
won’t be.”
Suddenly, a sound cut through the dark, loud and echoing in his ears – it was
like wings flapping, fast and close to him. He almost felt the brush of
feathers on his cheek. More voices, rough and croaking joined the first,
resounding all around him.
“Obey the Master’s voice. Obey the Master. Dipper, obey.”
He startled awake with his heart hammering against his ribs, cold sweat running
down his forehead and back. Straw clung to his moist skin and Dipper started
shivering immediately – winter reigned outside and big holes in the walls of
the haymow let icy wind run over them, the straw only doing so much to keep him
warm when he was soaked.
His gaze searched for another person up here in the mow, but the dim light of
the rising sun revealed that nobody crouched in the corners or towered over him
– Wendy was still snoring next to him, face buried in hay and Mabel slept on
her other side, arms slung around Waddles.
A deep sigh came over Dipper’s lips and he turned on his other side, now wide
awake.
It was the third night in a row he was woken by the same dream, the same
feeling of somebody watching him bright and burning in his chest. It always
felt so real; too real to just be a dream, to just be arising from his
imagination.
He’d tried to brush off the feeling of discomfort it had left the first night
and rolled every little detail of it over and over in his head the second,
still not coming up why his mind held all that for him as soon as he went to
sleep.
Dipper couldn’t help but wonder whether he should simply go and see for himself
what Blackcholm held for him. After all, now, the few days between Christmas
and New Year, was the time that people said signs and wonders were to happen.
But if he left, he’d also have to leave his sister and Wendy behind –
Blackcholm was a small village at least three days’ march away.
Not for the first time since he’d had the dream, he wondered why Blackcholm of
all places. He’d never been there. The village was neither known for its market
nor welcoming parish; the name only came up when people wanted to travel north,
the bogs there were dangerous and the road through the village was the only
safe passage.
Dipper rubbed at his cheek.
Maybe leaving Mabel and Wendy wasn’t that bad. Two mouths were quicker fed than
three and people were much more willing to let orphan girls into their homes
for a night’s rest when they were not accompanied by a boy. Of course Dipper
wouldn’t be there anymore to take the small chores people had to offer for a
loaf of bread or sometimes some Heller, but the girls could get by some days
without him. Also, around this time of the year, they normally dressed up as
the Three Kings so people would give them sweet prunes and honey bread, but
again, as Maria and angel they’d be off just as well until Dipper returned.
A soft, low voice arose in the back of his mind: And if he didn’t?
He shook his head, straw entangling with Dipper’s locks. Why should he not come
back? If the dream was right, something good was waiting for him in Blackcholm.
And if it was just that – a dream – he’d return at New Year.
What could go wrong?
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     time is an illusion
With cold wind biting his cheeks, nose running and his shivering hands grabbing
his clothes tighter with ever sharp gash of air, Dipper didn’t know whether
leaving Mabel and Wendy behind really was the best idea.
He’d left them in the hay that morning, still sound asleep, before the sun rose
to full morning – that was almost two and a half days ago. Since then, he’d
passed a lot of villages, asked for the way more times than he remembered ever
doing to not get lost on his way in the upcoming snow storm.
Fingers and toes numb, clothes wet from the snow, Dipper really wished he’d
stayed behind. No good was worth dying of an illness, but at this point, there
was no turning back.
Blackcholm had been as simple and eventless as people had told him, rows of
houses, a little church, a small market, nothing not like any other hamlet he’d
seen with Mabel and Wendy. Making his way down the road over slippery snow,
there hadn’t been many people to ask for the mill and the first man he’d found
even answered that there was no mill in Blackcholm. An elderly woman had
finally nodded, wide, unblinking eyes fixed at Dipper. “Down at the Coselmire,”
she’d said, “But if I was you, I wouldn’t dare going there. Devilish mires
those are.”
It might’ve held Dipper back. He might actually have considered that warning,
if you wouldn’t hear that kind of stories along the way in every village of
less than 200 living souls. People told the strangest things to make travelers
visit their taverns or persuade them to buy their odds and ends. Dipper had
heard his fair share of tales and myths.
Well, he thought, carefully making his way into the mire, trying to avoid
wandering too deep into the soaked dirt, maybe that dame had at least found the
right word to describe. The forest here was thick, keeping the snow on the
crones of the trees, but also the mud from freezing completely. Dipper’s legs
were drenched in wet dirt up to his calves. The cold biting at the wet clothes
soon had his skin burning and his heavy breath fogged in front of him. But a
mill surely couldn’t be that hard to find, could it? People needed to go there,
bring the grain and get the flour.
So why wasn’t there a path through the dangerous forest? Why did it look like
he was the first person wandering these routes?
Lost in his thought, Dipper let his attention slip for a second and his foot
caught on a root, sending him into the mud. Groaning and swearing, he tried to
push himself up again, hands slipping on the cold slush.
Heavy frustration made his stomach turn and Dipper grinded his teeth. This
wasn’t worth it. He’d left his sister and best friend behind because… because
of a voice in a dream telling him to search for a mill in a godforsaken forest.
Finally finding safe footing Dipper pushed himself up, peeling his wet clothes
from his arms. It was no use. He would go back before he could freeze to death,
before he’d become a subject for the tales in Blackcholm. It might take him
hours; he didn’t exactly remember where he took turn to avoid being swallowed
by the mire and night had fallen quickly, leaving the thick forest in almost
complete darkn-
The wind stopped howling through the treetops, the swishing of small branches
subsided and the world around Dipper went quiet.
Silence.
It felt almost unnatural, the calmness too thick for the air and a shiver ran
down Dipper’s spine, leaving a prickling trail on his skin. He froze in his
motion, the hot sensation of a piercing stare burning in his neck. He stopped
wringing at his wet clothes.
Slowly, he turned on his heels.
Deeper down an almost walkable path of gravel - it could be tiredness or the
cold playing tricks on his mind - Dipper thought he saw a light flickering
right there. Pure and white, almost like star-shine. Only that the trees here
stood too close to each other to let any light fall through. And Dipper
couldn’t recall seeing anything that… glowing ever in his life. It was almost
like embers lacking the fire. Like it… throbbed.
A thousand memories of fairy tales whispered to him in the depths of nights
brushed the brim of his consciousness – friar’s lantern, ignis fatuus, the
living lights, luring people deep into the swamps and mires. The impression of
a warning didn’t stay and Dipper’s hand reached out of their own accord, his
mind urging him to come closer, touch the light.
Legs shaking, Dipper moved forward, eyes fixed on the goring brightness in
front of him.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     So, Gravity Falls is going to end... it's sad, but it will be great.
     Just promise me you guys will keep drawing, writing and reading in
     the fandom. 'Cause I am nowhere near done with these characters.
     NOwhere.
     Not proof read. Any of you guys up for betaing this for me?
Dipper made his way deeper into the woods, his feet becoming slowly numb from
walking over cold dirt for so long and the damp clothing adding to the chill
settling in his guts. If he wasn’t lost before, he surely was now – he wasn’t
familiar with these woods and the few memories of his way into the forest
already blurred with the new scenery unfolding right before his eyes. But as he
followed the light on and on, Dipper found the worry seemed to fade into the
back of his mind. He was on a way, wasn’t he. He wanted to go where the
brightness brought him; wherever that was.
He went on and slowly, the earth provided better footing and his aching feet
didn’t sink into mud anymore. Still, despite the distance he’d already brought
behind himself, the light didn’t come any closer.
The moist air carried the heavy smell of the pines around him. It reminded him
of the countless times he’d enjoyed it with Mabel bouncing ahead of him,
whistling or singing and Wendy, walking right behind him with her beautifully
lazy smile playing on her lips. She was as much of a big sister for Mabel and
him as somebody could ever be, she’s been in their lives ever since Dipper
could remember.
He and Mabel hadn’t been older than a few weeks when somebody dropped them on
the doorstep of the poor-, work- and orphan house in Lohsa. They’d never
wondered why – most people couldn’t even feed their one child these days, let
alone raise twins. It was also very likely their mother had died in childbed,
so, Dipper thought, their father wasn’t able to keep them. Maybe he didn’t want
to either. He would never know for sure, so thinking about it too much seemed
of no use.
Wendy had been there too with her brothers. She cared for Mabel and Dipper in a
way the fostresses never would and could, using the time when her brothers were
taught in simple math or reading, so they’d have a chance to become craftsmen.
Girls were expected to become maids at best and when Dipper got the sparse
lessons, he made sure to teach Wendy and Mabel the bits he had learned as best
as he could. They’d sneak out of their beds in the middle of the night and
Dipper would write in the dirt of the small backyard to give the girls words to
practice reading.
When Wendy’s brothers were taken away, the nurses started talking about
marrying her off to the recently widowed blacksmith; she’d decided to run away,
taking Mabel and Dipper with her despite them being barely 10 years old. Mabel
had once asked her why she’d run away – she would’ve been well off marrying a
man with income, but as Wendy had started to shake all over, tears welling up
in her eyes. They’d never seen Wendy this way, so they hadn’t asked again.
Now she was 18, no chance of marrying anyone as the new law said one had to be
able to provide for a family if they wanted to marry. Not that Dipper thought
she wanted it any more than she wanted it four years ago. All the three of them
had long since decided on wandering the lands, begging, singing or working for
their meals. Living for the day seemed much more promising than thinking about
a tomorrow that was always clouded by uncertainty.
Although they sometimes didn’t know how to feed themselves and slept in the
streets more days than not, it was a peaceful life they had led – wait, no -
led. Dipper was gonna go back, right.
Right?
Dipper blinked quickly, his eyes must be getting tired – for a second he
thoughts he saw the light wavering.
A slight rushing sound underlay the steady thud of his steps, coming from the
direction the light wafted to. With the roughness of frozen grass rasping
against his feet and the rapidly rising roar of water, he felt strangely
reminded of the choir of voices ringing in his ears after the dreams that had
led him here.
The air suddenly felt thicker around him, heavy with ozone licking in sparkling
trails over his skin. Dipper’s heart beat in his throat.
When the light stopped moving, Dipper stumbled over his own feet, startled. The
trees suddenly opened to a clearing, illuminated by the unnatural pure glow
that looked much brighter and bluer than it had on their way through the
forest. Stumbling closer, Dipper saw that the light was in fact many small
ones, forming a circle of strange symbols Dipper couldn’t make out from where
he stood. Their gleam reflected from a narrow river and outlined an old house
right next to the waters – a watermill. Over the river led a wooden bridge,
barely wide enough for two crossing it next to each other.
Nervousness rushed through Dipper, mingling with the cold and making him feel
light-headed. He could taste the spark in the air. He could feel his rush of
excitement pound behind his ribs.
No wolf howled in the distance and no mouse rustled through the fallen leaves.
Folding his arms tightly in front of him, Dipper stepped onto the clearing,
waiting for any sign of movement anywhere near the trees. Something had to
happen. Anything. The light brought him here, the dream brought him here.
Frantically, he looked left and right, rubbing his arms and fiddling with his
clothes.
If only Mabel was with him. If only Wendy could tell him to be calm.
Dipper turned his head again, searching. A silent gasp escaped him. At the end
of the bridge… there was somebody. A figure.
He was painfully aware of the trembling of his hands and his labored breaths
fogging right in front of his face.
Dipper could swear nobody had been there a moment ago, the clearing had been
deserted. Now, there stood a dark scheme; it had to be the miller.
Cold sweat formed on his forehead. Had he been so blinded by the strange lights
before? Was the cold getting that badly to him? It was like the person had
appeared from thin air. But that was crazy talk. Hesitantly, Dipper walked up
to the figure. It didn’t move or show any sign of attention.
Dipper bit his lips, but kept going. No matter whether he was here for this
stranger or not – he would have to ask to spend the night at the mill. It was
long past midnight and the way back might kill him. Finally standing in front
of the man, Dipper tried to keep his body from shivering, even as an uneasy
flutter settled in his guts. He didn’t come all this way to turn around at a
queasy feeling.
The man was taller than Dipper and wore a wide cloak, the hood covering the
upper half of his face. Only a broad, sharp grin was exposed and a shiver ran
down Dipper’s spine. He tried to say something, but his mouth was dry, his
breath only rasping in his throat. Though he couldn’t see the other’s eyes, he
felt a piercing stare bore into him.
His heart actually stopped beating for a moment.
Then, the stranger raised his voice. He spoke quietly, but to Dipper, his words
sounded clear like they were hissed directly into his ear.
“Looks like you finally found your way through the woods…”
The odd question let Dipper raise his head a little as he nodded a little
awkwardly. The grin only widened at that.
“You are a very obedient boy. And I can tell you, I like my apprentices to be
obedient. Makes it much easier to teach them. Do you understand that, Dipper?”
Goosebumps crawled over Dipper’s skin as his name rolled off the stranger’s
lips so easily. He asked himself why the other knew it, but after those strange
dreams, a night wandering through the forest and following a ghostly light, it
wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened to him. At least he finally seemed
to have found the place he has been called to. Dipper nodded again, more
certain this time.
The miller barked out a laugh.
“I see, I see, the day’s been long, the night even longer. Let me make it short
for you: I want you as my apprentice, kid. Stay at my mill and I can teach you
two crafts. One that might feed you and your loved ones someday, that puts
bread on the table and coins in your pockets. The other, much more delicate and
much more dangerous, might give you anything you could wish for, if you’re
brave enough to ask for it.”
The man tilted his head a little, obviously looking Dipper over. “So, what will
it be? Shall I teach you the mill’s craft, or everything else as well? Surely
you didn’t come all the way to decline my generous offer.”
Dipper gulped heavily, taking a moment to let the words sink into his mind. Not
much of it made any sense. He came all that way to be an apprentice? But… but
the dreams- but the light… Hadn’t he come for… more? Sure, in his dreams the
voices had only told him it won’t be a harm, but after all the effort he’d put
in coming here and the almost magical-
Dipper’s eyes widened involuntarily and he swore he heard a low hum coming from
the miller.
Magic.
Was that it? Was that the second craft? It couldn’t be, could it? Magic was
something out of fairy tales, the song’s that you sang to hungry children to
put them to sleep. Only fools believed in magic. Yet… hadn’t Dipper thought it
was the time for wonders to happen? What was a wonder other than magic? And
what could these dreams have been, how could a light guide him through a forest
if it wasn’t… magic.
A part of him told him not to believe any of his stupid thoughts. Better men
than him have been put into an asylum for that sort of foolishness. Still the
other part, now glowing with curiosity and anticipation, gained the upper hand
and urged him to take the deal.
What bad could come out of it.
The miller’s craft he had for sure. And to get an apprenticeship as an orphan
was almost impossible. Nobody wanted an unlucky lad in their home. It might be
his only chance.
And… magic.
Dipper looked up to the hidden face of the miller. For a moment, the lights
from the mill wheel made it look like a gleaming eye looked down at him.
Oh, what the heck.
“Everything else as well… Master,” Dipper said, voice steady and shoulders
straight.
The miller laughed and extended a hand, oddly enough the left one, and Dipper
took it firmly. The touch felt too hot on his palm, almost burning against his
freezing flesh.
When he spoke again, the miller’s voice echoed over the clearing loud and
sharp.
“Welcome, Pine Tree.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     I swear normally I can write, I don't know what's wrong with me.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
This night, Dipper didn’t dream.
At least he thought he didn’t.
Around him was nothing but thick darkness, layered around him into eternity,
shielding him from everything else; from anything in the outside world. It
didn’t feel bad. In fact, it felt comforting and welcoming. Washing off the
exhaustion from the journey of the last days, the worries and doubts, letting
all the bad thoughts drip off of him surely was the right thing. Why had he
even worried in the first place? What was there to worry about if he felt that
safe and warm and he was enveloped by glooming heat?
What was there to be concerned about?
What was there to fear?
Through the warmth, something brushed over his face and touched his cheek like
the lightest kiss, ran over his closed eyelids. Light.
Pink and orange, the soft beams of the early morning sun danced over his skin
and let Dipper open his eyes slightly. Somehow, the snugness of the dream still
lingered on his body. He hummed lowly in his throat and felt a deep breath
escape his lips. He hadn’t felt that relaxed in a long time.
Thankful for the good night’s rest, Dipper pulled his arms close to his torso
and felt the wool blanket tickle his arms as he reached up to rub at his tired
eyes. In moments, he’d hear a roaring snore from Mabel, or Wendy murmuring in
her sleep. They would get up and pull the straw from their hair and-
Wool blanket?
His heart skipped a beat and Dipper opened his eyes.
He didn’t stare at the dark roof of the hayloft. Instead, he saw a wooden
ceiling, made of thick planks. Right above his head, somebody had painted a
Pine Tree with chalk. As the word crossed his mind, it seemed like a small bell
started ringing in the back of his mind. Pine Tree. He’d heard that just last
evening.
Pine Tree.
A figure in a dark cloak.
White dust and glowing lights, brighter than anything he’d ever seen.
The miller.
With a force that made his head spin, his memory came back to him.
He wasn’t in the hay anymore. That was long gone – it had been days. He’d made
his way through villages and woods to follow the voices, follow the lights
through the woods and almost freeze to death before he found the old mill, the
river and the glowing wheel. And the miller. He’d offered him an
apprenticeship. Learn a craft and everything else as well. Obey the Master’s
voice. Magic.
A stinging pain formed behind Dipper’s temples and it only worsened as he sat
up. The soft light suddenly seemed too bright and Dipper tried to bury his head
in his hands to shield himself from the morning, from whatever the day would
bring.
Yesterday night, he’d promised to stay at the stranger’s mill to learn and
work. He’d shaken his hand and Dipper still remembered how strangely hot the
miller’s palm had been. He’d followed him into the millhouse and was told to go
up the stairs and sleep in the empty bed. Not wanting to disobey the Master’s
demands on his first evening already, he’d done what he was told, although he
hadn’t felt tired at all, anticipation and curiosity burning in his blood.
However, as soon as he’d sat down on the bed, Dipper had been too exhausted to
keep his eyes open any longer and fell asleep before his head had hit the small
pillow.
Lost in his memories, he drew in a sharp gasp as a hand touched his shoulder.
Scrambling away from the contact, Dipper looked up into the face of a boy that
was a little older than him – maybe as old as Wendy had been. No, as Wendy was.
His hair was black and his face pale, the soft beginning of a beard shadowing
his chin. He looked down at him and Dipper’s head now throbbed in earnest,
shock making the ache worse. Nervously, he chewed at his bottom lip, unable to
say or ask or shout any of the things racing through his mind.
When the boy spoke, his voice was already raspy like an adult’s tone.
“Who are you?”
Should he give a fake name? He did that once in a while when people in a
village didn’t want to offer work to ‘the beggars from the east’ or if he,
Wendy and Mabel were about to do something very stupid. But now he had no
reason to not give his real name, had he? He was in the miller’s house, he’d
been invited.
At least that’s what he thought. Torn, he decided to tell the truth – it
wouldn’t be a faithful beginning for whatever there was to come.
“Dipper. Who are you?”
The dark-haired nodded, before crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Call me Robbie.”
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry, I feel like this sucks hard.
End Notes
     Thank you for reading ♥♥ ~ I'm schierlingsbecher on tumblr, in case
     you wanna speak "in person"
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!