Chapter 21

Kate fell asleep sometime around the tenth chorus of Aduil's lullaby—he must have been really hard to put to sleep when he was a kid—and when she woke, he was already up, bright eyed, bushy tailed and raring to go. The horses had been made ready, the campfire doused and buried, and the only thing left to do was pack up Kate's bedroll.

All this she took in with a confused, bleary-eyed glance and a slight twinge of guilt as Aduil handed her a sticky granola bar-ish thing with a grin. Carefully unsticking a few fingers, she frowned down at the thing. It looked alright, but… ugh. Too early for food.

When a glance around for a place to put it came up empty, she turned to Aduil instead and asked why he hadn't woken her. He only laughed and said that he had learned his lesson about waking sleeping dragons. She stuck her tongue out at him for that lovely comparison, which only earned another laugh.

While that did lighten her morning-grump mood a bit, it did nothing to alleviate the niggling bit of guilt, so she took matters into her own hands and, sticking her breakfast between her teeth, rolled up her bedroll—she could do that at least, if nothing else. Soon enough, they were off again.

Conversation had been sparse as they rode out—sleepy mind no talk good—and had soon petered out altogether. That suited Kate just fine, and Aduil didn't seem to mind either, so they passed most of the morning in a companionable silence.

The sun was high in the sky when Aduil broke the silence with a soft, almost tentative, "May I ask you something?"

"What?" She'd heard him just fine, but there was something about that tone she didn't like. It had 'we need to talk' vibes, tying that old familiar knot in her stomach and pulling it tight.

"May I ask you something?" he repeated.

"Oh. Yeah, uh, of course." Kate answered, trying for nonchalant. "What is it?"

"You…have told me much of your world," he started, speaking slowly as if choosing his words carefully, "yet little of you within it. It leads me to wonder… what is your—your position there?"

"My position… You mean like my job? Where I work?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Oh, well, I work at a gas station. It's kind of like a shop in a marketplace."

"And are you…treated well there?"

"Well enough, I guess." She shrugged. "I mean, it's no picnic, but there are worse places to work."

Aduil hesitated again, longer this time before he asked, "Are you safe there?"

"As safe as I am anywhere, I suppose." She gave him a sidelong glance as he frowned at the ground ahead of them. "What are you trying to get at?"

He didn't answer right away, his jaw working as though chewing over whatever words were running around his head. Finally, he blurted, "Are you a slave there?"

For a moment, it was all Kate could do to stare at him, her mind stuttering for an answer. Whatever she'd expected him to say—and she hadn't known what to expect—it wasn't that. "What?" she finally managed.

"A slave, as you said that Tolar, Jex, was. Is. Will be? I do not know the right tense."

"No, that's not—No, Aduil I'm not a slave." She paused for a thought before adding, "I mean, the working conditions could be better, and my boss is a jerk, but…where did you ever get an idea like that?"

"You were weak when you came to the Meadowood, as you said the Tolar will be, and wary. You feared touch, and you—well it is many small things. Perhaps you thought I did not see, but I did. I do," he said. "I understand, Kate, if you do not wish to speak of it and I will not force it from you. But you can tell me, if you like. I will not think any less of you."

"Okay, first, damn straight you won't, because if you did, we'd be having a very different conversation, and one I don't think either of us would enjoy. You'd have to be the worst kind of asshole to judge me for something I'd have no control over." She shook her head before she went on. "And second, I am telling you. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a slave. I was weak when we met, yes, but I'd be willing to put money on that being caused by whatever—quite literally—ripped me from my home and dropped me here because, let me tell you, it didn't tickle. And I was 'wary' as you put it because, again, I'd just woken up in a place that, from everything I'd ever known, was not supposed to exist. As for the touching thing…" she trailed off as she searched for a way to explain that he might understand.

To his credit, Aduil was as good as his word and didn't push, just calmly waited until she said, "There are some people who think 'female' means weak, and that means 'free for the taking'. It doesn't, and I'm not, and I'm not about to let anyone think otherwise. Not if I can help it."

"You have been attacked?" he asked in a low, quiet voice, like that deceptive calm that comes just before the storm hits.

"No, not me," she said. "But it does happen, so a girl's gotta be on the lookout, and know how to defend herself. And I can, you know. Escrima sticks, remember? So you can put the sword away. There's no one here to fight, anyway."

Aduil glanced up sharply with a flash of confusion before following her gaze and blinking down at his hand, wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword, pulled part way out of its sheath. He loosened his grip, letting it fall back into place with a soft shick.

"Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten myself. It is only…I do not like to think of you hurt."

Studiously ignoring the odd wave of butterflies happily fluttering in her stomach at that, Kate decided it was best to change the subject, for both their sakes.

"It's cool. Now, can I ask you something?"

He brightened. "Of course."

"Okay, so this is completely off topic, but I've been wondering about it for a while, and well, one awkward question deserves another, so… What's with your hair?"

"My hair?"

The vague question seemed to throw him as much as 'are you a slave' had Kate, and she couldn't quite suppress a small, triumphant grin at his entirely bewildered expression. Not that she had planned it that way. Not at all.

"Yeah, your hair. Why do you keep it so long? I mean, don't get me wrong, it looks good, but you're a warrior, right? Doesn't it get in the way? And before you say it, yes, I know, you tie it up, but ties can come loose, and then suddenly you're trying to fight off a nest of Urut or something with hair flying in your face."

"Ae. I braid it back before I ride to battle, so even should the ties come loose, it will be some time before it becomes a problem."

"Yeah, but someone could still grab your braids and throw you around," she pointed out.

Aduil grinned. "That is why we must be fast."

"I guess you have a point. I couldn't catch you," Kate conceded with a half a shrug. "Still, wouldn't it be easier to just cut it? I mean, where I come from, most soldiers—warriors like you—cut their hair so short, you couldn't grab it if you tried."

He shook his head. "My hair is as short as it can be without…without great difficulty," he said. "We have…I do not know the words for what it is, but to cut it shorter than this brings pain."

"It hurts to cut it?" Kate frowned at him. "You're telling me you have nerve endings in your hair?" What evolutionary advantage could that possibly have?

Then again, elves didn't exactly evolve, did they? If she remembered her Talerian history right, Aduil himself would only be a few generations removed from the very first elves, a handful of millennia back.

"I suppose." He shrugged. "What are nerve endings?"

"Oh, they're…um…dag. I actually don't know enough about this to properly explain it to you. I guess… from what little I remember from biology, I think they're what let us feel things, like pain and temperature and stuff."

"Then, yes, nerve endings sounds right."

"Weird." Kate eyed his hair, tied up in its usual half pony. What else it could feel? Did it get cold? Hot? Did it sweat? How sensitive was it? Before she could pick which question to ask next, another thought occurred. "Wait, I saw a couple of elves back at the palace with hair cut to just below their ears. What was that, then? Some kind of self harm?"

"In a way, yes, though like as not, they did not do it themselves. It is a ritual shared with those close to us when we are lost, when one we care for has passed from these lands. It is… a release, to feel the pain in the body that we feel in our hearts. My father," he added, his tone becoming somber, "still cuts his hair just past the point of pain, even now."

"For your mom?" she asked quietly.

He nodded.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened? The books don't really go into any detail about her." Actually, they didn't mention her at all, but there wasn't any point in bringing that up.

Aduil didn't answer, just stared off into the middle distance. He had schooled his expression to impassivity, yet Kate could almost see the dark cloud forming over his head.

"Hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it," she said. "Forget I asked."

He nodded again. "It is well," he said after a moment. "It was long ago."

"But that doesn't make it stop hurting, does it?" Kate asked with a joyless smile. "Some wounds never go away."

"No," he murmured. "They do not."

Though the sun shone bright in the clear blue sky, the day seemed to have darkened as they rode on. Kate searched for a change in subject, something to lighten the mood, but before she could find it, Aduil spoke again, in a voice so soft, she could only just make it out.

"It was long ago," he repeated. "I was…no longer an elfling, yet not quite grown. I do not know the word for it."

"Ah. We'd call that a teenager." Kate supplied.

"A teen-ager then," Aduil agreed. "Perhaps it is only a trick of memory, but the days seemed brighter then, more…full, I suppose. My mother and father… so many relied upon them—the care of the entire forest—and so they had little time to spare, for there was always something that needed doing, yet they always had time for us, Lindolir and I. Even when they faced difficult times, we did not see it, for with my mother at his side, my father was a different elf than the one you met. He was filled with light and laughter and love. He would share tales of adventure, of great heroes and prophesies and lost treasure. Many were the days when we would walk in the forest together, father and mother and Lindolir and I, for hours with no purpose, save to be, together, and to enjoy what was, as it was."

He grew quiet then, a small wistful smile painting his face. It soon faded though, as he went on.

"We would travel together in those days as well. Often only within the Meadowood, care visits to the other villages, but sometimes further, to nearby cities to speak of trade, and diplomatic journeys to other realms. My mother and father set off together upon one of those journeys when I was a… a teen-ager, as you say. Lindolir was already away visiting with our grandmother in far off Londalath, and they were to gather him before returning home, but I was meant to accompany them. I…I did not wish to go. I had already begun my training with the warriors, and if I left, I would not advance with the others, and I…" he trailed off.

"You wanted to stay with your friends. Very common in teenagers, at least in my world," Kate said, but Aduil shook his head.

"I should have gone. If I had…" He scowled down at the reins in his hands and gave his head another small shake. "They were not long out of the forest when they were attacked. They had guards, of course, and it was only a small band of goblins, easily ended, yet one of the foul beasts managed a lucky blow and my mother… she did not return."

"Oh, Aduil…" Kate started, then stopped, not quite sure what to say. She'd known before she asked that it was bad—because when is a death of a loved one not—but that? Had he been carrying that all these years?

Finally, she asked, "You know that wasn't your fault, right?" because it didn't sound like he did.

He smiled, a small, crumpled ghost of a thing, but didn't look up. "That is kind of you to say."

"No, there's nothing kind about it. It wasn't your fault." When he didn't answer, she tried a different tack. "Tell me, what do you think would have happened if you'd been there?"

He only scoffed, like they both knew the answer, and there was no point in saying it.

"No, really, tell me," she insisted.

He sighed, but answered, "I would have saved her, of course."

"How? They were already surrounded by guards—I'm guessing the best and brightest, am I right? And you said yourself that you'd only started training, so what could you have done that they couldn't? That your father couldn't? Unless you have some psychic powers you forgot to tell me about, visions of the future like Altharion has, you wouldn't have known where to look for that lucky blow any more than they did."

He looked at her then, for the first time since he started his story, with a light of such hope, like wanted more than anything in the world to believe her, but it quickly dimmed.

"Of course I cannot claim such a gift," he said. "Yet who can say it would have been needed? One more person, one more sword, one more arrow might have made all the difference."

Kate gave a slow nod. "Maybe you're right," she said. "I'm not gonna lie, it is possible. But it's just as possible that nothing would have changed, except that you would have been there to witness it. Or you could have made a mistake and gotten yourself killed, or worse, your parents could have been distracted trying to make sure you were safe, and you would have lost them both. See, that's the thing with what-ifs and might-have-beens, you can play it over in your head as much as you want, every possible way it could have gone down, but it doesn't change a damn thing. All it does is hurt."

Aduil tilted his head, looking over with a furrowed brow. "Kate…" he started, then stiffened. "Do you hear that?"

All she heard was the clip-clopping of the horses and the wind rustling the bushes they passed, nothing at all concerning. Before she could tell him that, he twisted in his saddle to follow his mystery sound, and sighed.

"We are followed," he said in a flat tone.

"What?" Kate looked back too, but whatever he saw was clearly too far for her limited sight. Still, she didn't doubt him—sharp senses, incredible speed, impossible beauty and immortality to boot, elves had it all. Not that she was jealous.

Aduil pulled Merenfaer to a stop, and though Celeirgil followed the mare's lead, Kate stayed seated when Aduil dismounted, wheeling Celeirgil around instead so she could see, but would be ready if a hasty getaway was needed.

"What is it?" she asked. She didn't think it was a threat, not a serious one anyway, if Aduil's reaction was anything to go by, but his posture looked a tad bit defensive. "Friend or foe?"

"Friend."

"Or at least someone not likely to attack us?" Kate guessed.

Aduil nodded, and they waited.

It was probably less than a minute before Kate realized that she actually had seen their tail, as that dot on the horizon grew bigger, and it wasn't long after that it drew close enough to see it was a horse and rider. A blond rider.

"Is that…"

"Celeden." Aduil nodded again.

"Oh. Huh." The name meant nothing to her, but as Aduil had said it like she should know, she tried to play it off like she did. It wasn't hard to figure out, anyway. She'd only met two blond elves, so if it wasn't Beletir—which was actually what she had been going to say—then it had to be the guard she'd been privately referring to as 'the other one'. "Wonder what he wants?"

Aduil didn't answer, whether because he didn't know or didn't want to say, Kate couldn't tell—he'd gone impassive again—but they didn't have to wait long to find out.

Celeden was as expressive as ever when he reined in his horse a few feet away and gracefully dismounted, sparing only a disinterested glance for Kate before bowing to Aduil and launching into a rapid-fire stream of Elvish.

"Min Enirn. In taluin taenilren pedh onem Arain. Dir vilte tiren edirn thauled."

To be fair, Celeden probably wasn't talking as impossibly fast as all that, but when you're new to a language and trying to decipher words not meant for you, it can sound as if the speaker just finished three pots of coffee and a case of energy drinks and is about two steps from a heart attack.

Whatever he'd said, Aduil seemed to be expecting it. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a slight shake of his head before he responded, "Nai. Te puil namo min adain in iras tiren pern in wae cerse min rael baenn baer."

Woah, was that a flicker of emotion on Celeden's face? Wait, is discomfort an emotion?

"Anem Arain tifen llan, illen." Celeden said. His gaze slipped past Aduil to land on Kate.

She shifted in her saddle. He'd gone back to his favored statue impersonation, so she couldn't guess what he was thinking when he hit her with that piercing stare, but she didn't like it. Apparently, she wasn't alone. Aduil stepped between the two, drawing Celeden's attention back to him.

"Te dau sed on tel iras?" Celeden asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Te il leril?"

"In em. Hir taeniled nai olined, urbael. Hir uveleth caron sed elain rall," Aduil said softly, but his voice took on a harder edge as he added, "Tiren e anem Balentiran, Celeden. In iras beran pern min dass tif daun."

Whatever was happening here, neither of the elves were too pleased about it. The tension in the air was palpable as they stared each other down like a couple of gunslingers in an old western movie having a 'this town ain't big enough for the both of us' showdown.

Kate had never liked westerns.

Maybe if she got between them, she could put an end to this crap. That's what they said, wasn't it, that aggressive males were like animals, in that if you could break their line of sight to one another, they'd calm down? Or was that just some pop psychology bullshit? And even if it was true, would it work on elves the same as humans?

Whatever, anything was better than this. And if she only managed to get herself stabbed, well, hopefully that mysterious healing thing would cover it.

She had barely shifted to jump down, when Celeden seemed to come to a decision of his own. He gave a curt nod to Aduil, murmured, "Arbeann, min Enirn," and hopped back on his horse. Just like that, it was over, and he was gone.

Aduil's shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit as they watched Celeden's quickly retreating form, before he headed back to Merenfaer.

"So…" Kate started. "Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

He mounted up and smiled at her, though it looked a bit strained. "Nothing to worry over."

"Yeah, you say that, but your face doesn't seem to agree."

He waved a dismissive hand. "You should not listen to my face. It does not know what it speaks of."

"What?" Kate laughed.

"You know what I am trying to say."

"I do," she conceded. "And yet, I think your face is smarter than you give it credit for."

He sighed. "Am I truly so transparent to you?"

"Yup."

Looking away, he smiled again, smaller this time but so much more genuine. He urged Merenfaer into motion, Kate and Celeirgil following his lead, before he spoke again.

"Truly, it is nothing to worry over," he repeated. "Celeden had simply come to ask me to return home."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

Aduil shrugged. "The King did not grant me leave to pass our borders."

"Wait. Are you telling me you committed treason?"

"Treason?"

"You disobeyed a direct order from your King."

"Then yes, I suppose so."

"Seriously?" She reined Celeirgil in. "We have to go back."

"Why should we do that?" He pulled Merenfaer to a stop and shifted to face her with a curious frown.

"Are you kidding me? You committed treason, you idiot! I don't know what the punishment for that is, but it can't be good. Come on, maybe if we go back now, we can mitigate the damage." She urged the horse to turn.

"Stop, we are not going back. I promised to see you home and I hold to my word."

She glared back at him. "Yeah, well I promised not to let you throw your life away."

"When did you promise that?"

"Just now. Come on, we're going back." Not waiting for another argument, she squeezed her legs, driving Celeirgil forward.

"Wait," Aduil called, and when Kate ignored him, he addressed the horse instead, the clever bastard. "Doren Celeirgil!" The horse listened, stopping on a dime.

"No, Celeirgil, don't doren, go!" She pressed her calves into his sides again, and leaned forward, even tried flicking the reins, but the horse didn't so much as twitch. "Come on, go! Gael! Or gil, or—dag nabbit, I can't remember 'go', what's 'go'?"

"I am not telling you that. Kate, we do not—"

"Fine!" She huffed, then swung herself out of the saddle and set about unstrapping her pack.

"What are you doing?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," Kate grumbled. "I'm going back and saving your dumb ass. Enjoy your pointless trip to Havenvale. Tell Altharion I said hi."

She fished around in the saddlebags, looking for some of that waybread, muttering to herself about stupid macho elves making unilateral decisions and getting them both locked up or killed or who knew what—because there was no way the king wasn't going to blame her for this, too, and she couldn't even say he was wrong; the fool wouldn't be out there if it weren't for her—and if he had just told her what was going on, they could have figured something out, something that didn't put her head on the chopping block or his cute butt in the dungeon, but no, he had to—

A sudden weight landed on her shoulder, and she spun with a yelp to see Aduil pulling his hand back in surprise. "Dag nabbit, I need to put a bell on you!"

"Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you. But you must listen. We have no need to return, it is well."

"Well? How can it be well? This isn't just some silly prank you pulled with your brother, Aduil, this is treason! I may not know all the laws here, but I do know a little something about your King and you're never gonna convince me he'll let this go unanswered."

"No, of course not. But perhaps treason is the wrong word after all, for the troubles I will face are not so frightening as you seem to imagine. At worst, when I return, whenever that may be, I will be confined to the palace for a few years, and perhaps spend my time cleaning the stables, that is all," he insisted. "It is nothing I can not easily bear, and even were it not, you are well worth the trouble."

"I…" she started, not quite sure what to say to that. Then narrowed her eyes. "Oh, nice try, smartass. Don't try to soften me up, and don't sugar coat it, I'm not letting you get hurt because of me."

"No, I—" He cocked his head. "Sugar coat?"

"Telling pretty lies to make it seem like it's better than it is."

"I have not lied to you Kate, nor will I. My father will not be pleased, but I will not be harmed."

"Well, no, I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't actually kill you or anything"—probably— "but you're sure you're just going to get a slap on the wrists? That's it?"

"A slap—No, I will not be harmed."

Despite herself, she couldn't help a little huff of a laugh. "It means a small punishment."

"Ae. Then, yes. It will be well. I am certain."

"Well…Okay then. Good." She looked away, awkwardly rubbing at her arm. "I feel kind of silly now. I guess I overreacted. Sorry."

"You need not apologize." He smiled. "You were worried for me. I cannot fault you for that."

"Hey, you're right. In that case, I'm not sorry. In fact," she grinned and stuck her nose in the air, "you should fall at my feet in gratitude."

Aduil laughed, shaking his head as he turned back to his horse. "I am not so grateful as that."

"Spoilsport."

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Translations

"Min Enirn. In taluin taenilren pedh onem Arain. Dir vilte tiren edirn thauled." - "My Prince. I come bearing word from the King. He bids you return to his halls."

"Nai. Te puil namo min adain In iras tiren pern in wae cerse min rael baenn baer." - "No. You may tell my father I will return once I have seen my charge safely home."

"Anem Arain tifen llan, illen," - "The King was insistent, sire,"

"Te dau sed on tel iras?" - "You do this of your own will?"

"Te il leril?" - "You are certain?"

"In em. Hir taeniled nai olined, urbael. Hir uveleth caron sed elain rall," - "I am. She bears no magics, nor defense. She cannot make this journey alone,"

"Tiren e anem Balentiran, Celeden. In iras beran pern min dass tif daun." - "Return to the Meadowood, Celeden. I will follow once my task is complete."

"Arbeann, min Ernirn," - "Be safe, my Prince,"