This was not the homecoming Jorvanultumn had hoped for. In fact, his worst fears had come true.
His diare stood across the room by the toppled stool he had knocked over in his anger. Neither of them had spoken for at least a minute now. Davorultumn had only frowned the whole time. It was time to break the silence and say something.
But what?
“I don’t know what to say.”
Those were probably not the best words to use.
Davorultumn scowled. “You broke your elispt, Jorvanultumn. There are no words for that.”
“I have tried to explain—”
“And that’s half the problem. You won’t even acknowledge your failure.”
Jorvanultumn pressed his palms down on the high-table. “Diare, the world is on the brink of war. There are more important things than my elispt right now. It can be put on hold—”
“It cannot be put on hold!” Davorultumn’s wings twitched. “Especially not when you intend to take one of our most powerful mentalists to go help the person responsible for this war.”
Jorvanultumn sighed. “She is not—”
“Would you call Paydamat a liar?”
“No, of course not.”
“Because she was there and you were not.”
“Diare, I will finish the elispt. You know I am a responsible person.”
Davorultumn strode across the room, his wings still shaking. He placed his palms on the high-table directly across from Jorvanultumn and looked Jorvanultumn directly in the eyes. “I thought you were responsible, but I should have paid more attention. You spent half your childhood complaining that our elispt was unfairly difficult.” He had switched to the formal.
Jorvanultumn stared back. Should he switch to formal too? His diare had done it to emphasise his anger, and switching as well might convey more anger, causing Davorultumn to become even angrier. Not switching, however, might convey rebellion and disrespect, also causing him more anger. Jorvanultumn decided to switch. “It is unfairly difficult, Diare.”
Davorultumn slammed his palms down on the table. “You see? You are ridiculously stubborn! You cling to that belief and now you are throwing it back in my face!”
“No other family has an elispt nearly as involved or difficult.”
“That makes no difference.”
Jorvanultumn turned away, and took a deep breath. “As unfair as it is, I will complete the elispt, Diare. I will not be remaining here long.”
“You should not be here at all. To make it worse, you bring humans who manage to offend Lammdir Griholbovroh.”
Jorvanultumn turned back to face his diare. “It was simple ignorance. Sinitïa does not know our ways. Besides, the treatment of Itra is unfair. You have said it yourself many times.”
Davorultumn waved his hands dismissively. “That is beside the point. There are better ways—”
“Sinitïa did not know. It happens frequently with other visitors, and is nothing new.”
“They do not go on to insult one of the Lamdritta to his face.”
“Sinitïa did not know who she was addressing.”
Davorultumn hissed. “You defend your friend by insulting her with a shortened name?”
“Diare, you have travelled human lands. You know it is their custom to use shortened names in most circumstances.”
“You still do not do it when using formal Isyarian!” Davorultumn slammed his palms on the high-table again, then turned his back to Jorvanultumn.
They fell silent again.
Eventually, Jorvanultumn broke the silence again. “Diare, please.”
Davorultumn looked up at the sky. “I need time to think.” He spread his wings and flew through the open roof.
Jorvanultumn bent over the high-table and closed his eyes, fought back the tears. He had not wanted to anger his diare, but finding someone to help Felitïa was more important. Now, he just needed to convince Mikranasta of that.
He took a few moments to prepare himself, then walked through the door into the gathering room where Mikranasta and Hedromornasta waited. They were seated on stools at the low-table, facing each other and talking quietly. They stopped as Jorvanultumn entered. Mikranasta gave him a sad smile, got up, and made her way around the low-table to him.
She bent down slightly and touched her forehead to his. “Jorvanultumn, I’m sorry for Davorultumn’s response.”
“You heard then,” Jorvanultumn said.
“We could hardly not.” Mikranasta separated from him and picked up a cup from the low-table, then a branch of the hpakrik growing from centre. She squeezed one of the large, round leaves over the cup. “Give him time. He is your diare. He will forgive you.”
“I wouldn’t,” Hedromornasta said.
“Hedromornasta, that’s not necessary.” Mikranasta finished squeezing the juice from the hpakrik and turned to face her siare. “You are not Jorvanultumn’s diare.”
“So? Jorvanultumn is eliïspt now. He is a disgrace to Davorultumn, to all of Chithishtheny.”
Mikranasta spread her wings and bent them round to touch Hedromornasta on the shoulders. “Do not use such language in my presence again.”
Hedromornasta bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Diare. I let my anger get the better of me.”
Mikranasta folded her wings again. “You have better control than that. Go. Do your concentration exercises. Get your anger under control.”
“Yes, Diare.” Hedromornasta stood up and left, scowling at Jorvanultumn along the way.
Mikranasta turned back to Jorvanultumn, holding the cup out to him. “Don’t let Hedromornasta offend you. He is still young. Never forget how far apart the two of you were.”
Jorvanultumn took the cup from her and raised it to his lips. “I could never do that. You would never let me.” He sipped the hpaks. It was cold and sweet. His diare grew the best hpakrik, and it had been so long since he had last tasted it.
“Hedromornasta will forgive you in the end, too,” Mikranasta said. “Just be patient.”
“And you?” Jorvanultumn asked. “Do you forgive me?”
She approached him and touched her forehead to his again. “You may not be my siare, but you are my child. I will always forgive you.” She returned to the stool she had been sitting on. “That said, you know I can’t do what you want me to.”
“At least listen to me.”
She nodded and sat. “I’ll listen, but it won’t change my mind. Come, sit beside me.”
He sat on the stool Hedromornasta had been using and sipped at his hpaks.
Mikranasta placed her hands in her lap and smiled at him. “Tell me of this...Will-Breaker. Why is she called that?”
“I can only guess it’s because of her strong mental abilities.”
“She is a mentalist?”
“Yes, and a telepath, but there is a block of some sort on her telepathy” He launched into as much information as he could remember about Felitïa, her abilities, and what she was doing.
While he spoke, Mikranasta squeezed herself a cup of hpaks. The two of them went through several cups each as he talked.
“You know I cannot share my magic with her,” Mikranasta said.
“I”m not asking you to,” Jorvanultumn said. “I only want you to examine the block, find a way to remove it for her. You are one of the most powerful mentalists there are.”
Mikranasta touched his arm. “That’s sweet of you, but I will always be in the shadow of Zizzintharus and Paydamat.”
Jorvanultumn took her hand. “It doesn’t matter. I believe you can help Felitïa.”
“She started a war, Jorvanultumn.”
“I’ve been over that.”
She nodded and removed her hand. “Very well. Tell me more of this block.”
He told her everything Felitïa had told him—about a room in her head and grey walls, about what Borisin had told her about the block.
“This is the telepathic horse?” Mikranasta said.
“Yes.”
She looked at him incredulously. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t a horse a domestic animal? Four legs, big, hairy mane, sharp teeth?”
“Yes, except for the sharp teeth, though Borisin does often try to bite people.”
Mikranasta laughed. “I have never heard of a telepathic animal.”
Jorvanultumn nodded. “Borisin is unusual.”
She smiled at him, holding back more laughter. “Oh, Jorvanultumn. Such adventures you’ve had. I look forward to hearing more of them. And I believe you’re doing a good thing. More precisely, I believe you believe you’re doing a good thing. But I cannot go with you to see this woman.”
Jorvanultumn sighed. “You’re sure?”
She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his again. “I’m sure. It would be inappropriate. However, perhaps there is something I can do to help her without going.”
Jorvanultumn pulled away from her. “What do you mean?”
Mikranasta stood up and placed her now-empty cup on the low-table. “It looks like the hpakrik is dry for now.” She knelt beside the low-table and opened one of the drawers beneath it. She pulled out some paper, pens, and ink. “I can write down some meditative techniques your friend might find helpful. They are non-magical, so I am not defying holy strictures. She may find them helpful in overcoming her block. Most blocks are self-imposed. It’s an instinctive, subconscious process brought on by a fear of one’s own powers. Meditation can be a very effective method of overcoming them, but it does tend to need very specialised techniques.” She dipped one of the pens in ink, and began to write. “Go to the hpakrik in the other room and squeeze me some more hpaks, please. This may take awhile.”
Jorvanultumn nodded and suppressed a sigh. He wanted to say more, to beg her to come with him to Felitïa, but he knew he was not going to achieve any more with her right now. Any more protest and she might become angry. Mikranasta was slow to anger, but when she did, it was a powerful anger.
He took Mikranasta’s cup back into the other room, where he squeezed hpaks from the smaller hpakrik in the high-table there. He also took the opportunity to right the stool Davorultumn had knocked over. When he returned to Mikranasta, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest and he almost dropped the cup.
Mikranasta was standing, and beside her was a figure he had longed to see again.
Mikranasta scurried over to him, snatched the cup, and got out of the way.
Jorvanultumn rushed forward and Fevionawishtensen rushed towards him. They both leapt onto the low-table and touched foreheads. They spread their wings and when their tips touched, a shiver ran through Jorvanultumn. When she pushed her wings against his, there was a slight pain from his injured wing, but he did not care.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
The look in her pale yellow eyes was all he needed.
“Now, now, you two,” Mikranasta said. “Perhaps you should find somewhere more private. I have work to do if you want me to write this for you, Jorvanultumn. You’ve already spilled my ink.”
Fevionawishtensen smirked, though there was no way Mikranasta could have seen it.
Jorvanultumn suppressed his own smirk. “Sorry about that, Mikranasta. We’ll leave you alone.” He looked Fevionawishtensen in the eyes again. “Yes?”
She blinked, tears rolling down her face, and nodded.
He took a step back from her and immediately longed for the touch of her wings again. He took her hands for just a moment and looked at her. Then he let go and they both leapt into the air, where they soared through the roof into the starry sky.
* * * * *
The light of the setting sun was just a glow over the Arnorin mountains to the south. A brisk wind whipped loose snow from the slopes and ledges, creating swirling patterns in the air. It had been two years since Jorvanultumn had last stood here on the slope of Mount Tribanda, so long since he had flown with Fevionawishtensen, so long since they had last made love.
He sighed. This should have been a wonderful, happy moment.
And it was. Mostly. But other worries still hung over him.
Had he thrown everything away on an idea doomed to fail from the start?
Mikranasta might still be convinced, but the longer it took, the harder it would become, and the more word of his shame would spread. He had hoped Davorultumn would accept his reasons for the small deviation from his elispt. No, he had done more than hope. He had convinced himself that everything would be fine, and had ignored the consequences if they were not. The worst part was, this meant he had brought shame to Fevionawishtensen for no reason and no gain. Mikranasta’s promised meditative techniques were unlikely to prove beneficial, and despite her words, he was certain she knew that. She was making a hollow gesture to try to appease him.
Fevionawishtensen lay nearby, her wings spread out to either side of her. Her Hgirh uniform lay… Jorvanultumn was fairly certain it was a couple ledges down. They would find it later. Her sword, on the other hand, lay in reach of her hand. Always prepared, she was.
She caught him looking at her and smiled. He smiled back and she motioned him over to her. As he walked over, she propped herself up on her elbows and shifted her right wing out of the way so there was room for him to sit. When he sat, she wrapped her wing around him and sat up straight.
“I’ve missed this,” he said. “I wish I didn’t have to leave again.”
She hugged him tighter with her wing and put a hand to his face, never breaking eye contact.
He closed his eyes and just enjoyed her touch. She ran the tips of her fingers over his head. Soon, tears were welling in his eyes again. “I’m so sorry.” He had never wanted to bring her shame.
She flicked a finger against his forehead, and he opened his eyes again. Why? she signed.
“Why what?”
She rolled her eyes and signed, Why sorry?
“Well, I...I mean…” he stammered. “My elispt. I broke it.”
She regarded him with stern eyes. Tell me.
Of course. He had not even told her yet. All he had cared about were his physical desires, to fly with her, to hold her, to make love to her in the snow. Though she had shown the same desires. Nevertheless, he should have explained. “I wanted to help a friend.”
For the third time today, he launched into the details of pledging his assistance to Corvinian’s family and then meeting Felitïa, of everything they had done, and how he had risked the shame of not completing his elispt in the hope he could convince Mikranasta to return to Arnor with him.
“I didn’t adequately consider the consequences. I expected resistance, but convinced myself my diare would accept a temporary break in my elispt. And I’m sorry for bringing my shame upon you for something that will likely fail. I’m so sorry.”
She cocked her head and loosened her grip on him with her wing. She stared at him.
“I know I shouldn’t expect—”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“I…” He stared at her, uncertain how to respond.
She did it again, and held her tongue out longer this time.
“I don’t…” He shook his head and laughed.
Better, she signed.
“I don’t understand you sometimes.”
Good. She wrapped her wing around him again and kissed him. After a moment of holding him close, she let go and stood up. You are too stubborn to give up. So why?
“I just told you.”
She rolled her eyes again and shook her head. You spoke to Davorultumn. Once. You spoke to Mikranasta. Once.
“Yes, and they—”
Talk to them again. Yes, they are stubborn. You are more stubborn.
“I just don’t want to offend my diare.”
You broke your elispt. You have offended him already. But you had a good reason, so stand up for yourself. Make it worth it.
“You don’t care about the shame I’ve brought on you?”
She fluttered her wings in exasperation and signed, The only shame you bring on me is from your stubborn refusal to be stubborn. Convince Mikranasta to go with you. Prove what you are doing is right. I will stand by you proudly, and if anyone dares speak ill of you, I will make them regret it.
He stared at her for several moments. Was she right? Was he giving up too easily? “You’re right. I was intending to speak to Mikranasta again anyway, but I…”
She knelt beside him and put a finger to his lips.
He smiled at her and she kissed him. Wrapping her wings around him again, she drew him closer to her, and they spent the next while wordlessly catching up in the snow.
