Chapter 4

Aduil tapped the image. "Lindolir."

Kate sighed.

"Yup, that's Lindolir," she said, then to clarify, added, "Erie, Lindolir."

He quirked an eyebrow at her then moved his finger over the image of Jex and tapped again.

"That's Jex. Jexalanatokendil, but he goes by Jex."

"Jex," he repeated, and she nodded. "Jex, I Tolar. Vui eleth sedar? Acnimm?"

Ooh, he was none too happy. It didn't take a linguist to figure out what that meant, and for once, Kate was glad she didn't have the words to answer. Because how could she? How do you tell someone with a medieval level understanding of technology that you've watched a movie of detailing their entire history—some of which hadn't even happened yet, judging by his reaction to the bookmark—that you watched it all play out purely for entertainment's sake, and because of that you know that one of their worst enemies is going to become their best friend? Well, his buddy's best friend, anyway. And that wasn't even getting into the whole issue of how Lindolir's photo was on the bookmark.

Which, come to think of it, was a really good question. Because what were the odds that the random actor hired to play him would turn out to be the spitting image of the real elf? Seemed pretty low.

Maybe none of this was real after all.

"Kate."

Right, Mr. confused grumpy face was still waiting for an answer.

Kate let out another sigh. "I don't know what you expect me to say, Aduil, I really don't." She shook her head. "I doubt you'd believe me anyway, even if you could understand."

And he really did seem to be trying. His eyes were fixed on her lips as she spoke, like he thought if he could just concentrate hard enough, he could make sense of the words through sheer force of will.

It didn't take him long to see it wasn't going to work, and he gave it up with a frustrated huff of his own—though his somehow came out sounding dignified, which was annoying—before retreating to the table and dropping himself into a chair. Which was also annoying, because If Kate had pulled something like that, she would have looked like she was throwing a tantrum, but he managed to make it look as proper as if her were sitting down to tea with the queen. Because that was fair. Stupid elf.

She watched him awhile as he brooded out the window until curiosity got the better of her.

"So, what now?" she asked.

He blinked at her a few times, as if he'd completely forgotten she was there.

"In… dau uvernia te," he murmured distractedly, his gaze drifting to the bookmark in his hand even as he spoke.

Well, that was helpful.

He seemed to have snapped out of his funk, though, so that was something.

He glanced at Kate, then back to the bookmark for another brief examination before he nodded and stood. He strode to a door at the front of the room, then stopped abruptly a few steps short and turned to Kate, as if in afterthought.

"Annonte." He bowed his head. "In raim guil. Faemaedh." And with that, he was gone.

"Okay, see you later then. Guess we're done with the language lessons for today."

But the question still stood; what now? There wasn't a whole lot to do in the room, especially once she'd raided the wardrobe and—score! —found her clothes folded neatly at the bottom, nestled among a few pairs of dark colored leggings. Well, her jeans were there, anyway. Her t-shirt had been hung up alongside a few tunics in varying colors and a couple of sheer long-sleeved blouses in shades which would compliment the tunics. Undershirts, maybe? There was a cloak there too, black and thick and impossibly soft, and she wondered briefly if she had taken someone's bedroom, but as she hadn't had a choice in the matter, she decided not to worry about it.

Once she'd changed back into her clothes, which now carried a sweet citrusy scent, she looked around the room for something else to do and came up with nothing.

Of course, there was no reason she had to stay in there...

She eyed the door Aduil had gone through.

Whether this place was real or an incredibly detailed hallucination, it kind of didn't matter at this point. She was there, and it was Taleria, a place of magic and adventure and wonders untold. A place Kate had dreamed of, yearned to visit, and explore for almost as long as she could remember. And she was just going to stay holed up in some little room just because no one had told her she could leave it?

She grinned as she headed for the door, flung it open and—froze as two elves in full armor swung into place like a pair of saloon doors, effectively blocking the exit.

They could have been twins for how similar they looked, both blond, both stunning and both regarding her with identical impassive stares.

"Um, hi."

No response.

"I-I was just going…to…" she trailed off, glancing back and forth between them.

Not a twitch.

"I suppose it's kind of useless trying to talk to you, huh."

They didn't even blink which, to be honest, was a bit creepy, and Kate was tempted to boop one of them on the nose, just to get a reaction. However, as she'd seen elven reflexes in action, and these two were armed with some pretty deadly looking blades, that just seemed like a good way to lose a hand, so she suppressed the urge.

"Okay, well, uh, bye then!" she gave a little wave and closed the door.

Huh.

Apparently, Kate was dangerous enough to warrant guards, which she couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe she was a little taller than the average woman, but that was hardly threatening, especially since everyone she'd seen so far, except Lindolir, had at least a few inches on her.

Whatever the reason, exploring was definitely out which left her with—she gave the room another glance—bupkis.

Kate sighed and flopped back onto the bed.

Well.

There were worse places to be stuck, she supposed.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Aduil paid little mind to the guards flanking the door to the chambers where the creature had been quartered as he left it, managing only a distracted nod in response to their salutes as he brushed past. He did not see Lindolir and a few warriors in his unit congregating near an open window in the bright and airy main hall as he passed through, nor did he notice Lindolir break off his discussion and raise a hand in greeting. He heard not a word when Lindolir called to him, indeed, it was not until he felt his brother's hand alight upon his shoulder that awareness returned in a rush of sight and sound, of muted conversations, of soft music and of joyful laughter as a pair of elflings dashed past, trailing vibrant ribbons in their wake.

"Aduil, are you well?"

Aduil nodded, surreptitiously tucking the—what had she called it—the book-mark deeper into the book as he did, carefully concealing it between the pages.

"You have come from the creature, yes? Has something happened?"

Aduil nodded again, then gestured for Lindolir to join him as he continued on his way before responding.

"I am off to see father now, to make my report," he said. "She has woken."

"Truly? I am surprised, I was not certain it would."

Nor were the healers who had ministered to the creature. Two days and three nights she had slumbered, with no sign of illness or injury to be found, yet nothing they had tried would wake her. The sleep of the dead, they had called it, for few mortals who had slept so deep and sound had ever woken again.

Aduil had bristled at the words, at the wrongness in them, struck, for no reason he could find yet struck all the same, by a soul deep fear such as he had not felt since his youth. Since the day his parents had gone off together on a diplomatic visit to a neighboring land and his father had returned, bloodied and alone.

"So, it is a she, then?"

"Hmm?"

"The creature. It is female?"

"It… I had not thought," Aduil admitted. "It appears female, does it not?"

Lindolir shrugged. "Who can tell? Were it of the race of men, I would agree, yet for all it appears so, never have I heard tell of one of their kind with such brightly colored hair. It is not natural for the race of man, nor any race of which I am aware. Is it even hair? Perhaps it is some form of ceremonial covering. I have heard tell the Tolar paste bits of colored stone to their fur to honor some god or other, they have so many, and the Creesa wear swaths of long grasses upon their heads for pairing rituals. Perhaps it is something like that. Hmm, though it did not look alike to any grass I have ever seen. Did you learn anything of it? The creature, of course, not the grass."

"Little," he said, unconsciously tightening his hold on the book. "Whatever tongue she speaks, it is unlike any I have known—"

"And you know so very many," Lindolir teased.

"More than you," Aduil retorted.

While it was true Aduil had never excelled in the area of foreign languages, he, at least, had studied enough to become passably fluent in most of the dominant languages of the known lands. Lindolir, however, for all that he loved to learn, could never be bothered to sit still long enough to acquire more than the very basics of what was required of them as princes and perhaps, one day, rulers of their land. Not that Aduil had enjoyed the sedentary aspects of studies either, but as eldest and heir, he had had less of a choice.

Lindolir only grinned as Aduil rolled his eyes and continued, "She is clever though, Lindolir, her language seems to have no base in the common Kashic, nor even any of the Elder tongues, yet when I thought to teach her elvish, she took to it like a root to soil."

"Oh? And what have you taught her?"

"Only words of the greatest import," Aduil said, tempering his tone to one of grave solemnity. "Such as window, bed, and door. I believe father will be quite impressed."

Lindolir laughed. "Oh, vastly!"

"Perhaps I should consult with Master Norelin before I make another attempt. If he could teach the likes of you as much as he did, his counsel in the matter will be invaluable."

"Yes, that would be quite wise," Lindolir agreed, sounding surprised, "which is something I have never heard you accused of."

Aduil chuckled. "We all have our moments."

"Have you learned anything more from the creature? Have you learned how it knew me?" When Aduil hesitated to answer, Lindolir went on, "True, word of my exploits has likely spread far and wide, from my speed, strength, and agility to my unsurpassed good looks—"

"To say nothing of your oversized ego."

Lindolir managed only a wan smile as he sobered and continued, "Yet she knew me on sight, Aduil. It… it weighs on me."

It weighed on Aduil as well, more so since he had found the book-mark tucked away near the back of the book as he had waited for Kate to wake, for the image it portrayed was confounding and raised far more questions than it answered.

Lindolir, defending a Tolar?

It was preposterous. What purpose could such a thing possibly serve? Did she intend to use it to sow dissent among his people, to cast aspersions upon his brother, suspicions of where his true loyalties lay? The very idea was laughable, for surely there were none so foolish as to be deceived by such an absurd fabrication.

There was a chance Kate was naïve enough to believe a plot so derisible as that could be successful, yet, if that was her aim, why had she seemed surprised to see the book-mark? It had not been well hidden; had Kate not collapsed outside the palace when first he held the book, Aduil would have discovered it then. Moreover, why did she not seize the chance to use it when Aduil had produced the thing? Instead, she had evaded his questions, for he was certain she had understood despite the barrier of language she suffered, and had even become vexed when he had pressed the issue, as if she knew not how to respond.

Perhaps the book-mark truly was as innocent a thing as Kate had shown it to be, perhaps it was pure happenstance that the painting of the elf adorning it bore a striking resemblance to his brother.

Yes, and perhaps Aduil would inexplicably sprout wings and go to flit among the stars.

Yet, for all his misgivings, Aduil could sense no malice form Kate. Wariness, yes, even consternation, but not a trace of ill will.

Still, Kate's foreknowledge of Lindolir, as well as the book-mark were troubling at best and he would not dismiss them, for Lindolir's peace of mind, if not his own.

"Aduil?" Lindolir halted, tugging on Aduil's sleeve to stop him when his churning thoughts would have propelled him on. "I know that look. What is it? What have you found?"

For a moment, Aduil considered revealing the book-mark­ to Lindolir. It was Lindolir's due, after all, it was his fate hanging unknown. Yet when he looked upon his brother, grown to majority though he was, all Aduil could see was the frightened elfling he had been, attempting to hide behind a mask of insouciance as he asked if what the older elflings had said was true, that the beasts from his darkest dreams were real, and coming for him.

"Nothing," he said at last. "It is difficult to give answers when one has not the words to form them. Still, I will find them. It will take time, but I will see it done, you need not worry over that, my brother."

The old mask fell back into place as Lindolir grinned. "No, and why should I? That has ever been your purview."

Aduil huffed. "If I did not worry, you would not live."

"Once! Only once have I leapt from a cliff, and some ninety years past. Will it never fade from your memory?"

"As you insist on continuing in your foolhardy ways, no, it will not."

"You say foolhardy, I say fun." He shook his head. "In any event, it is Liriel who bears the brunt of the blame; it was she who told me I could not do it. How was I to pass up such a challenge?"

"No, it was she who told you that you should not do it, for of the two of you, Liriel carried the sense. Perhaps if you had heeded her, I would need not have fallen myself in the attempt to pull your foolish hide to safety."

"Pfft. You live, do you not?"

"That is beside the point."

"Yes, well, as lovely as it is walking the paths of memory with you, do you not have a report to render?" Lindolir said, perhaps seeing a lecture coming and attempting to head it off. He nodded toward the audience chamber just down the hall where a few members of the high council were just departing.

Aduil's shoulders slumped a bit at the sight. He had forgotten there had been a council meeting scheduled for that afternoon. The King would be in fine form after hours spent arbitrating the petty squabbles of the councillors, all the while trying to sort out what truly needed doing.

He allowed himself a small sigh. He would tread carefully, he decided, for the tidings he bore were less than exemplary and he had no wish to further sour an already bitter humor. Although…

"Lindolir," he said, brightening as he clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Join me, will you? I am certain father would love to see you; you always bring him to smile."

Lindolir barked an incredulous laugh. "Directly following a council meeting? Have you taken leave of your senses?" He slipped free of Aduil's grasp, backing away as he added, "No, I will share my smile at the evening meal, where all may enjoy it."

"Lindolir!" Aduil implored, but Lindolir only cast a grin over his shoulder as he started back toward the main hall.

"Hmm? Forgive me, I cannot hear you, I have already gone," he said, which drew a laugh from Aduil despite himself.

"Lindolir, I have learned one more thing of the creature," Aduil called, and that did cause Lindolir to stop and face his brother once more. "Her name."

"Oh?"

"Kate," Aduil said, and if a smile tugged at his lips as he spoke the word, it was only for the novelty of something so strange and new, and nothing more.

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Translations

"Erie," - Yes

"Jex, I Tolar." - Jex, a Tolar.

"Vui eleth sedar? Acnimm?" - How can this be? And why?

"In… dau uvernia te," - I…do not understand you,

"Annonte," - Thank you

"In raim guil. Faemaedh." - I must go. Farewell.