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Chapter Text

Hours dragged on as the travelers trudged through the gloom.  Though, none of the four was sure of exactly how many hours.  They hadn’t seen even a glimpse of the sun since arriving in this world.  A tangle of ancient tree limbs wove a canopy that blocked all but a dim filtering of grey-green light.  Draped with lichen and tangled in ivy, the woods stretched on impossibly.  The air hung thick and stale.  Oak leaves layered the ground, damply muffling their footsteps.  It was too quiet.  The whole forest seemed hushed, as though waiting with bated breath. 

Kurogane found himself feeling uneasy.  Vague flashes of paranoia nipped at the edges of his awareness.  This was no normal forest.  He sensed a malignant presence hiding in these woods.  It was muted, dampened by the hazy atmosphere that lay tangled among the trees, but it was there.  He tried to focus, to hone in on this unseen enemy, but every time he sought to pin it down, it slipped away, leaving nothing but a foggy feeling of confusion.  His mind seemed to be slowing.  Grogginess crept in and he shook his head to clear it.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”  Kurogane was almost startled to hear Fai’s voice breaking the heavy silence.  “This forest… it’s sick.”  The wizard spoke slowly, as though the dreary air weighed down his words.  Cradling an unusually quiet Mokona in his arms, Fai stepped forward to examine a particularly gnarled bole.  “And…”  He shuddered as though struck by a sudden chill.

“Hey, you okay?”  Kurogane reached out to touch the other man’s shoulder.  However, his hand landed instead upon a knotted oak branch.  He turned to find Fai standing two paces to his right.  “What…”

“This place is enchanted, Kuro-buro,” Fai responded.  “I suspect that won’t be the last time you find your senses bewitched.  And it’s not the fun, friendly kind of enchantment either.  No, this is something dark.  We had best be on our guard.  We don’t want to end up separated in a place like this.”

Kurogane nodded.  They would have to take extra precautions.  “Maybe we should all hold hands,” Fai suggested brightly, a ridiculous grin spread across his face.  Kurogane rolled his eyes.  Those were not the kind of precautions he had in mind.

“Fai, Kurogane, come look at this,” Syaoran called from a short distance ahead.  They caught up and crouched down on the ground beside him.  “There’s a path here,” the young man said, pushing away moss to reveal a wide, flat paving stone.  “That means there have got to be people in this world.  Or at least there were at some point in recent history.  In a forest environment like this, I’d expect the stones to be a lot more covered if they were left untended for too long.  If we follow this, we’re bound to come across civilization sooner or later.”

“Nice work, kid.”  Kurogane stood back up and tried again to peer through the thick veil of branches and leaves.  Sooner would definitely be better than later.  The light seemed to be growing dimmer.

“Well then, Syaoran,” Fai said.  “Lead on.”

They continued their march through the woods for several more hours, walking in a single file line.  Syaoran led the way, his eyes roving over the forest floor, always searching for the next flagstone.  He was closely followed by Fai.  The magician still carried Mokona and would occasionally glance down at the small creature with a look of concern crossing his face.  Kurogane took up the rear.  His feeling of uneasiness had not abated.

As twilight darkened into a foggy dusk, Kurogane called a halt.  “It’s no use traveling through the night,” he said.  “We’d lose the path.  Best to make camp here.”

“Whatever you say, Kurgy,” Fai chimed.  “I’ll go gather some wood for the fire.”

“No, stay here,” Kurogane stopped him.  “There’ll be no fire.”  He waited for the others to protest, but no one questioned his decision.  They knew by now that they were safest trusting in the warrior’s instincts.  “We’ll take turns keeping watch,” he instructed.

Spreading their cloaks beneath them, the four companions settled down on the ground to wait out the night.  Fai kept Mokona held close to him even as he lay down.  Kurogane thought he saw the creature shivering.  “Hey, creampuff, you doing okay over there?” he asked.

Mokona shook her small head slowly.  “Mokona feels icky,” she said.

“I’m afraid the strange magics of this forest are having an ill effect on the poor thing,” Fai supplied, since Mokona did not seem inclined to elaborate.  “But she’ll be fine once we get out of its influence and she has a chance to rest.”

Kurogane furrowed his brow.  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” he growled at the mage.

Mokona answered him.  “Mokona didn’t want to worry everyone.  Everybody was already worried about the big scary forest.  And like Fai says, Mokona will be fine.”

Syaoran eyed the small creature with concern.  “Oh, Mokona, we’re your friends.  We care about you.  Next time, tell us if you don’t feel good, okay?”  He reached out and softly stroked her rabbit-like ears.  Then he looked to Fai.  “Last time Mokona was sick, she was unable to transport us from world to world.  What if our time in this dimension runs out, and she’s still not feeling well?  It could take us days to get out of this forest.  Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”

“Her condition improved a bit when we found this road,” Fai answered.  “It has a different sort of energy from the rest of the forest.  If we can keep following this path, I think she’ll be just fine.”

“Can’t you put some kind of magical barrier around her?” Kurogane asked.  “Filter out the bad stuff that’s making her sick?”

“In theory, that would be fine.  However…”  Fai paused to stare out into the fast darkening night.  “I’d rather not use any magic here if we can avoid it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s for the same reason you didn’t want us to light a fire, Kuro-tan: to avoid detection.  I’m not sure what the source of this dark enchantment is, but I am sure that we don’t want it finding us.  Now,” he said, brightening his voice back to its usual cheery tone, “why don’t we all try and get some sleep?”

Kurogane took the first watch.  Within the hour, everything was pitch-dark.  He closed his eyes and allowed his other senses to take over.  The forest remained unreasonably quiet, even at night.  No breeze broke the stagnant air, and he could hear clearly the slow, even breathing of his resting companions.  Other noises broke through occasionally – the rustles of small creatures sneaking through the undergrowth or creeping along an overhead branch.  But none of these were concerning, and time slipped by uneventfully.

It wasn’t until he was about to wake Fai for the next watch that Kurogane felt it:  that feeling in his gut he always got before a battle.  Drawing his sword, he extended his senses outward into the darkness, probing for the enemy he knew must be approaching.  Syaoran and Fai had awoken to the sound of his sword being drawn and were now standing beside him.  Syaoran produced his own sword, while Fai carefully tucked Mokona into an inner pocket of his jacket.  Kurogane found what he was searching for: a large presence, still a fair distance away, but coming with speed. 

“There,” he motioned in the direction from which he sensed the presence.

“No.”  Fai pointed in another direction.  “It’s that way, and coming from above.”

“The enchantment in this forest must still be throwing off our senses,” Syaoran reasoned.  “We have to be ready on all sides.”  The three took up a triangular position, each facing outward, and waited.  Soon, tree limbs began to creak around them, accompanied by a sinister clacking sound.

The attack came from above, as Fai had predicted, but from four directions, not one.  Four monstrous beasts descended upon them with fangs bared and long, hairy legs splayed.  The three travelers leapt into action.  Kurogane saw a flash of golden eyes as Fai dispatched the first of the giant spiders.  The thin blond shook a slime of dark blood off the curved claws that now extended from his hands before jumping after the next attacker.  Kurogane easily split his own foe in two with a swing of his long sword while Syaoran stabbed the final beast through one of its multiple eyes.  The creature writhed, screeching for a long moment before its curled limbs at last fell still.

“If there are others nearby, they will surely have heard that,” Fai stated, landing quietly beside the other two.  “We have no choice now but to keep moving.  Kuro-buro?”

Kurogane glared down at the contorted arachnid lying at his feet.  Four of them.  How was it that he couldn’t sense that?  “All right,” he said.  “But stay close together.”

They traveled as fast as the darkness would allow, careful not to stray from the path.  Once lost, there was no telling whether they would be able to find it again.  Twice more they were ambushed by small packs of spiders.  They ended the skirmishes as quickly as they were able and hurried along their way.

Suddenly, Syaoran stopped.  “What’s wrong, kid?” Kurogane asked.

“I can’t find it – the next stone.  The path is gone!” 

“We can’t delay,” Fai hissed.  “They’re still coming.  More of them this time.”

Kurogane shook his head.  “If we don’t get out of this forest soon, Mokona’s only going to get worse.  The path is our best chance.  Besides,” he scoffed, “you should know by now that a few bugs won’t be able to stop me.”

“It’s not just the spiders I’m worried about, Kuro,” Fai argued.  “There’s something else in this forest, something far worse.  We have to keep moving.”

But they did not get the chance to decide, for the spiders were upon them again.  This time there were too many to count in the gloom, coming from all angles.  While a portion of them attacked from the ground, others stayed aloft, casting down pale, sticky ropes in hopes of entangling their prey.  Kurogane burst forward, taking out several foes in his first strike.  The travelers took down spider after spider, but the onslaught seemed unending.

“Syaoran!” Fai cried out.  Kurogane turned to see the young man stagger.  One of the spiders had managed to strike him with its stinger.  Syaoran slew the beast, but the damage had been done.  He sank to his knees as the poison took hold.  Fai and Kurogane rushed to his side, fending off the jubilant spiders who thought this was their chance to steal him away.  The fury of the two men’s retaliation caused the remaining spiders to hesitate, allowing them a brief lull from the fight.  Fai knelt beside the now barely conscious Syaoran.

Kurogane remained standing, sword still raised, ready should the spiders decide to attack again.  “How is he?” he asked the wizard.

“The venom isn’t lethal, but it will be a while before he’s able to stand again,” Fai diagnosed.  “These spiders don’t seem like they’re going to give up anytime soon.  Things are looking rather grim for us, Kurgs.  Now that Syaoran is unable to fight…”

“I’ll take them all out myself if I have to,” Kurogane growled.  “I told you, no bugs are going to stop me.”  He shifted his stance in preparation.  “Look after the kid and the meat-bun.”

“Kuro, wait!”  But Kurogane ignored the wizard’s protest.  Lunging toward the nearest spider, he drew back his sword to strike.  A sharp whirring noise ended in a muffled thump, and the monster fell dead before Kurogane could land his blow.  A feathered shaft protruded from its bulbous head.  More arrows began to fall, dropping spiders all around the travelers.  Soon the surviving monsters were retreating, scurrying through the tree tops. 

Kurogane drew back to the others, but he did not resheathe his sword; the enemy of one’s enemies is not always one’s friend.  One by one, the archers appeared out of the misty darkness, encircling the travelers.  They surrounded them with arrows nocked and threateningly aimed.

“Surrender your weapons,” demanded a female who appeared to be their leader.

Kurogane glowered at her.  “And if I don’t?”

“Now, now, Kuro-puu,” Fai admonished.  He placed a hand on Kurogane’s arm while raising the other in a gesture of surrender.  “Is that any way to speak to our rescuers?”

“Rescuers?  I could have –” But Kurogane caught the warning look in Fai’s eyes.  “Fine,” he grumbled, returning his sword to its sheath.  “Here.”  He handed it over to the long-haired woman standing before them.  The act carried an irritating sense of déjà vu. 

Taking the sword, the woman handed it off to another archer.  “Search them,” she commanded.  Kurogane scowled, about to protest.  But Fai tightened the grip on his arm, and Kurogane held his tongue.  They needed to get out of this forest, and the people surrounding them now were likely the best way to do that.  Kurogane hated to admit it, but they could use the help.

“Excuse me, madam,” Fai said.  He now held both arms outstretched as two of the archers began patting him down in search of concealed weapons.  “I’m sorry to trouble you, but two of our companions are unwell.  I was wondering if…”

“What manner of creature is this?” exclaimed one of the searchers, extracting a groggy Mokona from Fai’s pocket.

“Oh, please, be careful with her,” Fai implored.  “She’s not well.  And poor Syaoran here was stung by one of those spiders.  I’m worried he’s…”

“Do not fear for the boy,” the female archer interrupted.  “The spider’s poison won’t kill him, and we shall treat his wound when we return to the stronghold.  As for this…”  She took Mokona gently into her hands.  “I know not what ails her, but our healers may be able to help.  Elvish medicine is the most advanced of all the races.”

“Ah, so you are elves then?” Fai asked.

The woman looked at him quizzically.  “Of course.  What else should we be?  Surely, you did not mistake us for dwarves, human?”

After searching the travelers, the elves insisted on binding Fai and Kurogane’s hands and blindfolding them before they would lead them through the woods to their home.  Though he found it humiliating to submit to such treatment, Kurogane did not resist.  For Syaoran and Mokona’s sake, it was better if they could move this along quickly.  The elves guided them carefully through the forest, taking circuitous routes that may have been meant to disorient their captives – a most unnecessary precaution in this case.

The group marched in silence for a long while before arriving at their destination.  Kurogane heard the rushing of a deep river as they passed over a bridge.  Then behind them came the heavy sound of great stone doors closing.  Shortly after, the blindfolds were removed, though Kurogane and Fai remained bound.  They found themselves standing inside a large cavern.  Lit by lanterns, the walls were ornately carved with branching trees and trailing vines. 

The elf woman who had captured them stood before Fai and Kurogane.  “Your friends have been taken to our healers for treatment,” she explained.  “The two of you will be brought to the king for questioning.  It is not often that we find strangers in our lands, and he will surely wish to know your reason for trespassing.”

“Trespassing?”  Fai assumed an expression that was meant to convey innocence, though to Kurogane it just made the magician look like an idiot.  “I assure you, my lady, we had no intention of committing such a crime.  You see, we arrived here by accident.  We had no idea that that forest belonged to your king.  In fact, we were just trying to leave when your archers came along to assist us.  And we are quite grateful for that, of course.  I must say, if it wasn’t for them…”

The woman raised her hand, cutting off Fai’s rambling.  “The king will decide whether to believe your story.  Follow me.”  With that, she turned and led them on through the winding halls.  Several of her company followed behind as guard.  They passed through narrow passages and in and out of large chambers, past small underground waterways, and up and down staircases.

Finally, they entered the great hall of the king.  Tree-like pillars held a high arched ceiling.  Though by now they were deep underground, the wide gallery possessed an airy feeling.  Light filtered down from hanging lamps, bathing the smooth stonework in a bright but gentle glow.  The music of a single harp echoed from a distance to accompany the whispering stream that wound its way through culverts and under bridges around the hall.  On a raised dais in the center of the room, stood a tall wooden throne.  There upon it waited the elven king.

Robed in silver, with a mantle of green, he watched with cold eyes as Fai and Kurogane came to stand before him.  Light glimmered off his crown of emerald leaves as he tilted his head to look at each of them appraisingly.  His gaze seemed to linger longest on Fai. 

“You may unbind their hands, Tauriel,” the king said to the woman.  “Even if they meant me harm, men such as these would not be hindered by mere ropes.”  His tone was casual, conversational, but his voice carried the weight of power.  Kurogane regarded him with narrowed eyes.  Behind this serene and ageless face, there hid a quick and calculating mind capable of gauging the strength of his captives at first glance.  Kurogane would not have been surprised if the king held some magic ability that allowed him to easily see beyond outward appearances.  The cold eyes seemed to stare straight through to his core.  This elf could prove dangerous.

Once unbound, Fai bowed gracefully before the king.  “Your Majesty,” he began reverently.  “Please accept our most humble apologies for intruding upon your realm, as well as our deep gratitude for your aid in our hour of need.”

“You would have had no need of aid had you not entered my kingdom uninvited,” the king replied.  “Tell me, who are you, and what business brings you to my land?”

“My name is Fai Flourite,” the mage answered with another deep bow.  “My companions and I are wanderers.  We travel from land to land with no particular business other than to continue our journey.  I assure you, our arrival in your kingdom was not by our design.  Indeed, we hadn’t even known the forest was inhabited until we happened upon the path.”

“What fools wander blindly with neither map nor any knowledge of the lands they traverse?” Tauriel questioned him.  Fai merely shrugged and smiled at her. 

The king regarded Fai thoughtfully.  “Understand this, travelers, you will gain nothing by hiding the truth from me.  Regardless of what you might claim, it is clear that you are no simple vagabonds, and your journey is not truly without purpose.”

“Your Majesty, I see that very little slips past your notice,” Fai conceded.  “There is indeed a reason for our journey, but I cannot tell you what it is.  You see, that reason belongs to our young friend Syaoran, the one the spider poisoned.  It would be wrong of me to reveal such a thing without his consent.”

Kurogane thought the king might grow angry at Fai’s direct refusal to give him the information for which he had asked, perhaps even demand an answer with threats.  But the elf did none of this.  Instead, to their surprise, he laughed.

“Your loyalty does you great credit,” the king said to Fai, a slight smile now turning up the corners of his mouth.  “I would like to meet this young man, your friend who inspires such devotion.  I shall send for you again when he is well.  Then perhaps this tale will be unraveled.  Until that time, you shall remain my guests.  Tauriel.”  He spoke now to the woman.

“Yes, my lord?”

“These men are no longer to be treated as prisoners.  See to it that all their needs are met.”

“Yes, my lord.”  And though she obeyed her king’s orders, Kurogane noted that the elf woman still kept a close watch on him and the magician, mistrust evident in her wary green eyes.

Chapter Text

Dismissed from their audience with the king, Tauriel led Fai and Kurogane from the throne room.  She gave a brief series of commands to the guards who had accompanied them and each left to see to their assigned tasks.  At Fai’s insistence, she then brought him and Kurogane to the place where Syaoran and Mokona were being treated.  Much to their relief, they found their companions’ conditions had already begun to improve.  Syaoran was conscious again, though still groggy from the spider’s venom.  The wound on his shoulder had been bound with fresh cloth, and he had been given a clean set of clothes.  Mokona slept peacefully on a pillow beside the young man.  Syaoran explained that the elves had bathed the small creature in a solution of healing herbs, including one he had not heard of before called “athelas.”  Its soothing effects seemed to have negated the “icky” feeling that had troubled Mokona earlier.

When the healers had pronounced their patients well enough to leave, Tauriel led the four travelers to the suite of rooms that had been prepared for them.  The chambers they now saw were less grand than those they had first passed through when entering Thranduil’s palace earlier that morning.  More functional and less decorative, their living quarters consisted of a sparsely furnished sitting room, a small washroom, and two bedrooms.  Being part of the same cavern system as the rest of the palace, the rooms had no windows to the outside, but were lit by lamps and candles.

As she prepared to leave, Tauriel informed the group that guards would be posted in the corridor outside.  “If you have need of anything,” she said, “simply ask, and it shall be provided.  Rest now, for the long night has surely have left you weary.  The king will likely summon you again this evening.”  She turned and walked toward the door, booted feet strangely silent upon the stone floor.

“Thank you again,” Fai said as her hand touched the handle.  His voice was sincere.  “For everything, Tauriel.”

“I am a captain of the guard,” she replied without turning to look back at them.  “All I have done was to fulfill the duties set for me by my king.  You need not thank me for that.”  She left, closing the door behind her.  The travelers heard the click of a lock.

“Hmph.”  Kurogane scowled.  “Guests and prisoners seem to amount to about the same thing in this land.”

“Still,” said Fai, “it’s better than being stuck out in that forest.  At least now we have a safe place to rest and recover.  A magical barrier surrounds this place; likely it was set up by their king.  It seems the dark enchantments we encountered earlier are unable to pass through it.”

“That’s good news for Mokona,” Syaoran said.  The small creature lay cuddled in a blanket on his lap, still asleep.

Fai nodded.  “Anyway, now that the two of you are feeling better, we have a decision that we need to make.”

“What is it?” the young man asked.

“The king wants to know the reason for our journey,” Kurogane replied.  “He wasn’t satisfied when Fai said we were traveling for the sake of traveling.”

“I told him that because the reason we were traveling belonged to you, Syaoran, it would be wrong of me to reveal it to him without your permission,” Fai added.  “No one should have their past exposed without their consent, after all.”  The mage was still smiling, but Kurogane saw a different emotion in his eyes.  He knew the wizard must be thinking of when his own past had been painfully revealed in Celes.  Fai would not want any of his friends betrayed in the same way.

“Thank you, Fai.”  It seemed Syaoran had understood as well.  “I appreciate it.  I think we should tell the king our story.  There’s no telling how long we’re going to be staying here, and life will probably be a lot easier if we can gain the king’s trust.”

“I agree,” Kurogane said.  “The elves still have our swords.  If the king trusts us, we can convince him to give them back.  Then we won’t have to rush to find them when the time comes to leave.”

“Kuro-puu’s always worrying about his sword,” Fai laughed at him. 

Mokona began to stir.  “What’s so funny, guys?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“Oh, Kuro-daddy was just being silly again,” Fai answered as Kurogane scowled at him.  “Sorry to wake you, Mokona.  Are you feeling any better?”

“Mokona had a nice nap.  The icky feeling is all gone now.”  She hopped off of Syaoran’s lap and onto the low table that sat between them in the small sitting room.  “Mokona doesn’t remember being here before.  What is this place?”

“We’re inside the palace of an elven king named Thranduil,” Fai supplied.  “He’s the one who rules over the forest we landed in.  The king has asked us to tell him the story of how we’ve ended up in his kingdom.”

“Ooh, Mokona wants to help!  Mokona loves telling stories!” the small creature exclaimed.

“Well, that’s settled then.  Looks like we’re all in agreement,” Kurogane observed.

Fai shook his head.  “Not quite yet, Kuro-rin.”

“Eh?”  Kurogane raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’ve decided we’ll tell the king our story, but we haven’t decided how much of it we’re going to share,” the wizard explained.  “I do not think it would be wise to tell Thranduil everything.”  He kept his voice low, as though concerned the elves outside would hear.

“What do you mean?” questioned Syaoran.

“Well, we want the king to trust us, don’t we?” Fai continued.  “Unfortunately, our journey has had some rather dark chapters.  This culture is completely foreign to us, so we need to be careful.  I just think we should leave out a few of the more questionable details.  Some of the events that took place in Tokyo, for example.”

Now Kurogane understood what the mage was getting at.  “You don’t want him to find out what you are.”  Fai gave him a smile that told him he was correct.

“Vampires are feared by many cultures,” Syaoran admitted.  “Fai may have a point.  We’ll be safer if the elves don’t find out.”

“Fine,” said Kurogane.  “Anything else we need to keep hidden?”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation.  “Come in,” Fai called out cheerily.  They heard the latch turn, and the door swung open to reveal an elf maiden with long brown hair, pushing a wheeled cart.  The travelers watched her carefully for a moment, but she gave no indication that she had heard any of what they had been discussing.

“Good morning,” she greeted them, bringing the cart into the room.  On it sat a wide metal tray containing an assortment of foods, as well as a pitcher of water and a carafe of what appeared to be wine.  “I’m sorry to disturb you.  It is early yet for breakfast, but I thought you might be hungry.  To battle the spiders that have invaded our land is no easy task.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Syaoran thanked her as she began unloading the cart onto their table.

“Yes, we do appreciate it,” said Fai.  “Please, allow us to introduce ourselves.  My name is Fai, this is Kuro-buro–”

“It’s Kurogane.”

“And that’s Syaoran, and Mokona.”  Fai pointed to each in turn.

“My name is Melanna,” the maiden replied, smiling.  “I’m very pleased to meet all of you.  I’ve never met anyone from outside the Woodland Realm before.”  She looked at each of them with interest, her eyes taking in clothing and features that must have been completely foreign to her.  “Oh, but I cannot stay,” she said, blushing as she realized she had been staring at them.  “Tauriel has said we are to leave you to rest, and there is still bread to be baked and other preparations to be made before breakfast.  So I must bid you farewell for now.  I do hope I shall get to talk to you again soon, though.”

“We would like that too,” Syaoran said, smiling back at her.  Giving the travelers a short bow, Melanna took her cart and left them.  The lock clicked back into place.

Mokona had already begun stuffing food into her mouth.  “Hey, save some for the rest of us, meat-bun,” Kurogane complained, snatching up the last apple before she could swallow it whole.

“Now, where were we?” Fai muttered as he spread honey onto a small oatcake.  “Ah yes, our meeting with Thranduil.”  He nibbled the edge of the bread thoughtfully.  “A king might be made uneasy by talk of other kings’ deaths.  It may be best not to mention King Ashura, nor any of my past before joining up with you.  Other than that, I believe as long as we focus more on the happy stories and downplay some of the more unpleasant ones, we should get by just fine.”

The others nodded in agreement.  That settled, the travelers allowed themselves to relax and enjoy the food Melanna had brought them.  After they had finished eating, Fai sent Syaoran and Mokona to sleep in one of the bedrooms.  Kurogane sipped at a glass of wine as he watched the mage return.  Pouring another glass for himself, Fai settled down on the couch beside him.  They sat in silence for a few moments.

“It’s your turn,” the warrior finally said, setting his glass down on the table.

“I’m sorry?”

Kurogane began rolling up his right sleeve.  “The kid and the creampuff have both eaten, now it’s your turn.  You used a lot of energy fighting those spiders, so don’t try to tell me you don’t need it.”  He picked up a small knife from the table and held it in his left hand.

“Kuro-rin, stop.”  Fai took hold of his wrist.  The smile had fallen away from his face.  “It’s not worth the risk.  What if we were caught?  An elf could walk in here at any moment.  We just agreed that we needed to keep this a secret, for all our sakes.”

Kurogane frowned at him.  But Fai’s expression softened.  “I’ll be fine, Kuro,” he said.  “I’m not going to starve just yet.  Once we’ve told the king what he wants to hear we may be less guarded, but for now we must be careful.”

The ninja held his gaze for another few seconds before giving up with a sigh.  “Fine.”  He was too tired to argue with the magician right now.  Kurogane placed the knife back on the table and rolled back his shoulders.  He winced as a sharp pain snapped over his left shoulder blade.

“What’s wrong?”  Fai had seen him flinch.

“It’s nothing,” Kurogane answered irritably.  “I’m fine.”

The blond clucked his tongue.  Smiling knowingly, he shook his head.  “No, you’re not.  Take off your shirt.”

Grumbling, Kurogane did as requested, turning his back to the mage.  He felt Fai press his long, slender fingers along his shoulder, feeling for the connections between prosthetic and flesh.  “You remember what the doctors in Piffle World told you,” the wizard admonished.  “You need to stretch these muscles between battles.  Overuse causes them to bunch up and pull away from the prosthesis.”

“I know that,” Kurogane mumbled.  “But it’s not like those spiders left me much time for stretching, nor the elves for that matter.”

“No,” Fai admitted.  “And I don’t suppose having your hands bound for that long helped matters either.”  The wizard had begun to gently press against the tensed muscles, smoothing them back into position. 

During their last visit to Piffle World, Kurogane had gotten a new prosthetic arm.  Unlike the previous one, this arm was covered in synthetic skin, which saved them the trouble of explaining a mechanical limb to the less technologically advanced peoples they encountered.  But though it was the latest model, the arm still tended to leave Kurogane sore after extended use.  The swordsman sucked in a sharp breath as Fai pressed his thumb into a particularly stubborn knot. 

As the mage finished with the muscles surrounding Kurogane’s left arm, he moved outward, massaging the rest of the warrior’s back and neck.  Kurogane closed his eyes, enjoying the touch that seemed to melt away the weary stiffness.  Fai’s slender hands were surprisingly strong.  So relaxed was the ninja that he almost didn’t notice when the massage ended and Fai stood up from the couch.

Stretching his arms above his head, the thin mage yawned.  “It’s time we got some sleep as well, Kuro.  We’ll need our wits about us when the king decides to send for us again.”

“Mm.”  Kurogane acknowledged him with a tired nod.  Picking up his shirt, he followed Fai into the second bedroom.  Lying down on the large bed, the two fell asleep without even bothering to turn down the covers.

***

When Kurogane awoke, he found Fai had already left the bedroom.  Getting up himself, he put his shirt back on and walked out into the common room.  There he found the mage, along with the Mokona and Syaoran.  They were sitting around the small table where several new dishes of food had been placed.

“Breakfast?” Kurogane asked, sitting down on the couch next to Syaoran.

Fai shook his head.  “Lunch,” he answered.  “You’ve been sleeping for a while, Kuro.”

“Melanna brought this over for us just a little while ago,” Syaoran told him.

“And Tauriel paid us a visit just before that,” added Fai.

Kurogane began ladling a savory smelling stew of mushrooms and roasted vegetables into a bowl.  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“There was no need,” Fai answered him.  “We thought it better to let you sleep, seeing as you were awake all of last night.”

“Kuro-puu gets grumpy when he doesn’t have enough sleep,” teased Mokona.

“Oh yeah?  I’ll show you grumpy.”  Kurogane grabbed the white furball off of his head and gently tossed her to the wizard.

“Anyway,” Fai said, catching Mokona, “we told her that we had agreed to share the story of our journey with King Thranduil, and she promised to relay the message.  Seeing as Syaoran and Mokona are feeling well again, she thought it likely he would call for our presence this evening.  That leaves us only a short amount of time now to prepare or our audience with His Majesty.”

“Prepare?” Kurogane asked between spoonfuls of stew.  “I thought we were prepared.”

“Oh, nonsense, Kuro-puu!” the mage exclaimed.  “You can’t expect to entertain a king looking and smelling like that.  You need a bath.”

Kurogane scowled.  Although Syaoran had cleaned up during his time with the healers, both Kurogane and Fai were still wearing their traveling clothes, which were none too clean after their night battling spiders in the forest.  They had cleaned up as best they could in the small washroom of their cavern apartment, but the room did not include bathing facilities.

“Fortunately, Melanna informed us that there is a large bath not too distant from our own rooms,” Fai continued.  “I’ve arranged for one of the guards to take us there as soon you’re done eating.  There will also be a clean set of clothing available for each of us to borrow.”

Kurogane looked over at Syaoran, assessing the clothing the young man had been given.  It consisted of a belted tunic, leggings, and a knee-length overrobe, all in soft shades of brown.  Nothing there that would impede his movements, should they have to fight.  Not that Kurogane was really anticipating a battle, but it was always good to be prepared.  “All right,” he said, setting down his empty bowl.  “Let’s get this over with.”

At their knock, one of the two elves standing guard opened the front door and allowed Fai, Kurogane, and Mokona to exit.  Syaoran, being already clean and not yet back up to full strength, had decided to remain behind and rest.  The guard led the three through the hallway and down two short sets of stairs to the entrance of the bath chambers.  Ushering them inside, he turned them over to the care of the bath’s attendant.

The cavernous room the three now found themselves in was at least seven times the size of their apartment. Pools of steaming water in varying sizes indented the floor in a seemingly random arrangement.  Small streams connected one to another, with several bubbling fountains feeding those at the highest point.  At the other end of the room, which was several meters lower than where the three now stood, the system drained out into an ornately gated culvert. The warm, humid air carried an aroma of scented soaps and lotions.

As Kurogane surveyed the room, he noticed several elves already bathing in one of the larger pools.  To his surprise, they appeared to be female.  Quickly averting his eyes, Kurogane turned to Fai.  “We can’t bathe here,” he stated.

The wizard, who had already begun removing his clothes, stopped and looked up at him.  “What are you talking about, Kuro-sama?  That’s why we’re here.”

“Well, there must be some kind of mistake.” Kurogane pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb toward the other bathers.

Fai looked in the direction indicated, but then simply returned his eyes to Kurogane’s with a shrug.  “It’s not as though we’ve never used a public bath before, Kurgy.  I don’t see what the problem is.”

“You idiot, they’re women.”

“Yes, and you and I are men, and Mokona is Mokona.  Really, Kuro-silly, if this were a problem, I’m sure that elf who gave us the towels would have turned us away already.”

“But…”

“Come on,” Fai interrupted, pulling off the rest of his clothing and dropping it into a large wicker basket the attendant had left for them.  “You ought to have realized by now that social norms vary.  But if it makes you feel better, Kuro-shy, we’ll go to one of those lower pools where they can’t see you.  Now hurry up and get ready.  Or do I have to undress you myself?”

“C’mon, Kuro-puu, it’s bath time!” Mokona exclaimed, jumping onto Kurogane’s shoulder and tugging at his shirt collar as if she had taken the magician’s last comment seriously.

Frowning, the ninja finally acquiesced.  Stripping off his shirt, he tossed it, along with the small creature, to Fai.  Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the elf women weren’t watching, he quickly pulled off the rest of his clothing and wrapped a towel around his waist.  He chose to ignore the irritatingly amused smile the wizard was aiming at him.  Snatching up a basket of soaps and extra towels, Kurogane turned and marched down toward the lower pools.  Fai and Mokona followed, giggling, behind him.

The bath Kurogane selected featured a high wall at one side, over which water from the previous pool fell in a miniature waterfall.  A step had been carved along one side at a height that would allow the average bather to sit comfortably with his head above the water.  It was wide enough to easily accommodate half a dozen adults.  Setting the basket down by the water’s edge, Kurogane saw Fai approach the bath and dip his foot in to check the temperature.  Apparently, the wizard found it to his liking, for the next moment he had plunged himself into the deeper section near the rear wall.  Kurogane held up his arm to ward off a splash while Mokona clapped enthusiastically.

Popping up out of the water, Fai shook his head to clear the hair from his face.  “Woo, this is nice!  Come on in, you two,” he called, treading water. 

Letting out a cry of glee, Mokona immediately jumped in after him and swam out toward the mage.  The way her long back feet kicked at the water made her look to Kurogane like a very fat, fuzzy frog.  Laughing quietly to himself at the thought, the ninja set aside his towel and joined the others in the bath.

Stepping down onto the submerged ledge, Kurogane eased himself down into the hot water.  He sat down on the underwater bench and leaned back against the pool’s outer wall.  Small ripples lapped against his neck as the gentle current slowly brushed across his skin.  Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the sensation of heat soaking into his muscles.  It had been some time since they’d gotten a proper bath. 

A few minutes later Kurogane felt the water swirl around him as Fai swam over and settled himself on the ledge next to him.  Lazily opening one eye, he saw the mage untying the ribbon that held back his hair and shaking it loose.  The blond’s hair had grown considerably over the years of their journeying together.  Freed from its bonds, it fell in loose waves nearly to the center of the wizard’s back.  Unlike Kurogane, who kept his own hair trimmed to a manageable length, Fai refused to cut his, aside from the wayward bangs when they began to impede his vision.  Mokona had hopped out onto the edge of the pool, and she and Fai were now pawing through the basket, sorting through the various soaps, shampoos, and lotions it offered. 

After opening half a dozen bottles and holding them under his nose, Fai finally made a selection.  He quickly dipped his head underwater to thoroughly wet his hair.  Then, taking a palm full of the shampoo, he lathered it onto his head.  Kurogane caught the heavy scent of lavender as the mage carefully combed through the tangling locks with his long fingers.  It didn’t much surprise the ninja that Fai had chosen something floral.  After rinsing once more in the deeper water, the wizard popped up beside the other two again. 

“Mm, Fai smells good,” Mokona noted.  “Now let’s pick one for Kurgy.”

“Fine,” said Kurogane, knowing that arguing was unlikely to stop them anyway.  “But nothing flowery.”

Fai and Mokona laughed, but agreed to his terms.  After debating the merits of several different scented shampoos, during which time Kurogane mostly ignored them, they came to a decision.  “Alright, Kuro, we’re ready,” Fai told him.

Taking a deep breath, Kurogane ducked down into the water.  Coming up again, he ran a quick hand back through his hair to push away the dripping spikes that had fallen in front of his face.  Fai motioned to him with a twirl of his finger, indicating that he was to turn around.  The warrior did as he was bid, slouching a little to allow the other man easier access to his head.  Kneeling on the ledge behind him, the wizard poured out a dollop of shampoo and began working it through Kurogane’s thick black hair, his fingertips moving in gentle circles along his scalp.

Kurogane wondered whether Fai noticed that he seemed to be coming up with more and more excuses to lay hands on him lately:  the massage last night, running his hands through his hair here at the bath.  There had been other instances in recent months as well when the mage had seemed to need to touch him without purpose, insisting on helping when the warrior did not actually require assistance.  He briefly considered asking Fai for the reasons behind these actions, but decided against it.  It was possible that the wizard was not even conscious of this habit.  For now, at least, there was no use in over-thinking it, and Kurogane pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

Fai and Mokona had kept their promise: the shampoo they had chosen was not heavily perfumed and smelled of herb and spice, rather than blossoms.  Once Fai had finished, Kurogane submerged himself again to wash away the suds.  “Hey, meat-bun,” he called to Mokona when he resurfaced, “toss me some soap.” 

Mokona hopped into the basket, pulled out an ivory colored oval bar, and threw it to Kurogane.  He dipped the soap into the water and began rubbing it over his arm.  The scent reminded him of an herbal tea the travelers had encountered in a previous world.  It left his skin with a slight tingling sensation, possibly due to containing some sort of mint extract.  After Kurogane had scrubbed the rest of his body, he tossed the bar to Fai, who did likewise. 

Thoroughly clean and rinsed free of soap, Kurogane exited the bath and began drying himself.  A minute later, Fai joined him.  The wizard lifted himself out of the pool, rivulets of water running down his pale skin.  Sighing contentedly, he lay down beside where Kurogane was sitting, his back flat against the smooth stone floor, and smiled up at him. 

Kurogane dropped a towel over Fai’s face.  “You’re the one who said we don’t have much time before the king summons us.  Quit lying around and dry off.”

“Aw, Kuro-meanie’s so abrupt,” Fai whined as he sat up and allowed the towel to fall over his lap.  “But, I guess he’s right.  We’ve got to make ourselves presentable.  It won’t do to show up in the throne room dressed in nothing but towels.”

Once the three of them were dry and had gathered up all the items from their basket, they left their pool in search of the bath attendant.  The elf women they had seen earlier were still bathing, and Fai and Mokona waved to them as they passed by, while Kurogane avoided making eye contact.  He heard one of the women whisper something to the others that set them all giggling.  Re-checking that the towel around his waist was held firmly in place, Kurogane quickened his pace.

The bath attendant led them into a separate changing room where clothes had been laid out for them.  The garments appeared more formal than the ones Syaoran had been given.  Intricate embroidery adorned the sleeves and hem of the mahogany robe Kurogane pulled on.  Copper thread and tiny shards of amber glimmered as they caught the light, forming patterns reminiscent of autumn leaves.  The fabric was lightweight, but felt soft and warm against his skin.  Fai’s robes were of a misty grey-green, decorated with trailing vines of silver and jade.  Each outfit was completed with loose fitting pants of a darker matching color and soft leather shoes.

Now clothed, Fai picked up Mokona, and the three were escorted back to their rooms by the guard who had brought them.  Upon entering, they found Syaoran dressed in new robes similar to Fai and Kurogane’s.  The young man was fascinated to hear about the baths.  “Do you suppose they’re naturally occurring hot springs?” he asked as the group sat in the common room, awaiting the king’s summons.  “Or have the elves altered it to seem that way?  The water in our own room isn’t hot.”  He gestured toward the washroom wherein a small fountain continually dropped cool water into a stone basin.  “Although, they could be from two different sources…”

Kurogane leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes as the other three continued their conversation.  Elvish plumbing did not particularly interest him.  Syaoran, however, seemed eager to learn about every aspect of the new cultures they encountered.  Kurogane supposed that was a good attitude for someone destined to travel indefinitely.  If nothing else, it kept his mind occupied.  Only on rare occasions did the ninja catch Syaoran with a sad, wistful look in his eyes as he thought of the princess who waited for him.  That he was able to remain so positive even after all of the hardships he had faced showed how strong Syaoran truly was.  Of course, Kurogane thought, opening his eyes and looking over his companions one by one, perhaps the same could be said of all of them.

Chapter Text

After several hours’ wait, Tauriel came to fetch the four companions.  She too seemed to be dressed as if for some special occasion.  An emerald green shirt with long fluted sleeves was belted around her slender waist and fastened at her throat with an ornate pin of brass.  Her practical nature showed through, however, in her choice of the pants she wore beneath it, soft brown and unrestricting of her movement.  Kurogane wondered if interrogations were always a formal event in elven society.

As Tauriel led the travelers through caves and hallways they had not previously encountered, it became clear that the elf woman was not returning them to the throne room as they had expected.  Instead, they found themselves brought before a set of large oaken doors.  Tauriel turned and looked them over critically once more, as though making certain they all looked presentable, before opening the door and ushering them inside.

The room they entered held a very different atmosphere than the open, airy throne room.  Though large in size, it felt welcoming, even cozy.  A fire burned warmly in a wide hearth at the opposite end.  Carpets and rugs of varying hue and design covered the stone floor while tapestries depicting stories the travelers could only guess at lined the walls.  Pillows and low couches sat clustered in random arrangement, upon which dozens of elves reclined, chatting amiably with one another and enjoying the refreshments that had been set out on tables around the room.

Many of the elves paused to look up at them as Tauriel led the group toward the center of the room where Thranduil sat, draped in a cloak of rich burgundy, upon a sofa.  He sipped at a goblet of wine while talking with another blond-haired elf with sharp blue eyes.  When the king noticed the travelers’ approach, he smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

“Welcome, travelers,” he said.  “It pleases me that you are able to join us this evening.”

“The pleasure is ours, Majesty,” replied Fai, stepping forward to bow politely, “to receive the honor of being invited into your presence once again.”  When it came to smooth talking, the wizard tended to be the group’s first choice.  Syaoran had a knack for talking his way out of sticky situations, but Fai was the more skilled at flattery.  Kurogane supposed it helped that the mage was a well practiced liar.

The king seemed pleased by the wizard’s good manners.  “Come, then,” he said.  “Introduce me to your other companions.”

“Of course.”  The mage motioned for the others to join him.  “This, my lord, is Syaoran, the young man whom I mentioned before.”  Syaoran bowed formally at his introduction. 

“Kurogane you have already met,” Fai continued.  The ninja responded with a quick bow of his head.  It was rare for the mage to use his full name.  But in such a situation, even Fai could apparently see that the benefits of gaining the king’s respect outweighed the fun of embarrassing the warrior with silly nicknames. 

“And the final member of our company is Mokona,” Fai finished.  The small creature waved from her place on Kurogane’s shoulder.

“Your Majesty,” Syaoran addressed Thranduil.  “I have been told that you wish to hear the story of our journey and how we came to find ourselves in your realm.”  He stood before the king, ready to make his account, but Thranduil seemed in no hurry to receive it.

“Yes, yes, in good time,” the Elvenking replied with a wave of his hand.  “But first, make yourselves comfortable.  As I have said, you are my guests; you need not stand at attention.  Be seated.”  He motioned to a servant who was standing near one of the refreshment tables.  The servant brought over a carafe full of red wine and began filling goblets for the three humans. 

Sitting down on a cushioned ottoman across from the king’s sofa, Kurogane held up a hand to refuse the offered glass.  He didn’t care if Fai gave him another of his meaningful looks about behaving as a proper guest.  The king might act hospitable, but he could still be their enemy.  Kurogane was not about to throw caution to the wind and drink with him.

“Hey, what about Mokona?” Mokona complained, hopping down from the ninja’s shoulder to sit beside him.  The elf serving wine gave her a curious look.

Kurogane sighed.  “Alright, fine.  Here.”  He took the goblet from the elf and handed it down to the small creature.

Mokona tipped back the glass and took a large gulp.  “Mmm… Thanks, Kuro-puu.”

“Yeah, whatever.  Just don’t drink too much.”  Kurogane glanced over at Fai and Syaoran, who had taken seats nearer the king.  Each had accepted a glass of wine.  Tauriel had seated herself near the other blond elf at Thranduil’s side.  Kurogane watched as that elf smiled at her, welcoming her with a gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Allow me to introduce my son, Legolas,” the king spoke as the server left them. 

The other elf turned from Tauriel to look them over one by one.  “I have been told,” the prince said, “that you slew many spiders before my people found you.  You must be skilled warriors to have fared so well against them in such a small company.  I look forward to hearing your tale.  I am sure men such as you will have had an interesting history.”

“It’s true we’ve been in our fair share of battles,” Fai replied.  “We’ve followed a long and difficult road together.”

“And yet,” Tauriel observed, “we retrieved only two swords when we captured you.  Did you not join in the fighting, Fai?”

Fai regarded her with a flawless smile.  “No, I’m afraid I lost my own weapon in another world some time ago.  Kurgy and Syaoran did all the fighting yesterday.”

“Another world…” the king repeated, his light blue eyes again fixed on the wizard.  “This Hall of Story and Song has been host to many wondrous tales over the centuries, but tonight’s, I believe, may be the strangest yet.  Now then,” he said, settling back into the sofa, “share with us your story.”

The travelers had decided that Syaoran ought to speak first, as he was the most capable of laying down the groundwork of the tale, having experienced it firsthand.  He began the story with an explanation of his own past and the events that led up to the scattering of the princess’s memory feathers.  Thranduil listened intently, his face betraying neither confusion nor disbelief as the young man revealed the complicated family lines and clonings that had set everything in motion.  As he spoke, other elves in the room gathered around to listen.  The acoustics of the hall were such that as all else grew quiet, Syaoran’s voice carried easily to all of them.  When he reached the part of the story in which the duplicates had arrived at Yūko’s shop, he allowed Fai to take over the telling.

Fai told of how he and Kurogane had arrived at the same time as the other two, coming from two other worlds.  Though he explained to Thranduil and the other listeners that the ninja had been sent on the journey by the princess he served, the wizard carefully left out his own reason for leaving his home country, saying only that it had become uninhabitable and he had been forced to move on.  It was close enough to the truth, Kurogane supposed.  The mage quickly continued on to describe the prices demanded by the dimensional witch for the ability to travel from world to world. 

Following this, Fai, Syaoran, and Mokona took turns chronicling their adventures in the various lands they had visited.  Kurogane chimed in occasionally to add details, but for the most part he simply watched, gauging the reactions of their listeners.  All of the elves now seemed engrossed in the tale.  It was not the kind of interrogation the warrior had anticipated.  The elves behaved more like children listening to bedtime stories than people intending to render judgment. 

When they came to the part about their arrival in the desolate city of Tokyo, Syaoran and Mokona allowed Fai to take over the story.  This was the portion that required the most skillful editing.  Kurogane picked up Mokona’s goblet and took a long drink of the wine as Fai started into his grim description of the ruined city.  It was clear the wizard must have rehearsed this section, for he laid it before the king flawlessly and without hesitation.  He easily glossed over the loss of his eye, saying that the clone Syaoran had overpowered him and stolen a portion of his magic power, but not specifying how.  Without the injury to explain away, the wizard had no need to tell of how Kurogane had forced him into living while he asked to die, nor of the rift that action had created between them. 

The story continued through their dark days in Infinity and then into Celes country.  This section Fai changed as well.  There was no mention of King Ashura, nor did Fai identify it as his home.  He painted Celes as just another new world and Castle Ruval as an empty structure of unknown history.  “There were no people,” Fai claimed.  “The four of us and Sakura’s body were the only living things in that land.  Of course, someone must have lived there once – castles don’t just spring up out of the ground on their own.  But we never found out what happened to them.  Nor will we ever have the chance now.  We found Sakura’s body in one of the upper rooms.  Nearby was one of her feathers, encased in an orb of stone.  I broke it open and gave her the feather, but unfortunately, there had been a curse placed on that stone.  Moments after I had cracked it, the world began to close.  Somehow, the curse had locked on to my magic and was using it to trap us inside.”  Murmurs of concern spread around the listeners.

“I summoned what remaining power I had left and tried to use it to get us out,” Fai continued.  “But it wasn’t enough.  Syaoran and Mokona were freed, along with the Sakura’s body, but Kurogane and I remained trapped.”

“Then we used Mokona’s magic earring!” Mokona supplied.

“Yes,” Fai replied, patting her gently on the head.  “At Mokona’s direction, Syaoran cast her earring toward Kurogane and me.  Its magic opened a hole in the curse, allowing Kurogane to slip out.  He tried to pull me out after him, but the curse had already claimed my body as its core.  I told him to go, to leave me behind and escape with the others.  But instead…”  Fai turned, his eyes meeting Kurogane’s.  “He did something rather extraordinary.  Drawing his sword out of his left hand, he cut off his own arm, the one I had placed the spell on.  Because it contained my own magic, the curse accepted his arm as a replacement for me, and Kurogane was able to pull me out.”

The room had gone silent.  All eyes now rested on Kurogane.  The warrior stared down into the glass of wine he held.  “Of course, I was shocked,” Fai continued.  “Mokona had the good sense to get us out of there, and it happened that the next world we landed in was Kurogane’s home, Nihon.  Princess Tomoyo had foreseen our coming in a dream and was there to take us in and provide Kurogane with the necessary medical attention.  And Yūko had arranged for Fūma to deliver a new, mechanical arm from Piffle World to replace the one Kurogane had so recklessly cut off, so it all worked out in the end.”  He smiled at his audience reassuringly.

Syaoran picked up the story where Fai left off and continued it through to the end of their first journey to when he and Watanuki agreed to pay the price for the illogic of their existence, careful to edit out any mention of vampirism and Fai’s eyes.  Fai told the elves of Kurogane’s, Mokona’s, and his decision to accompany Syaoran on his continuing travels.  From there, they took turns again, describing the worlds they had visited since leaving Clow Country, up to when they arrived in Thranduil’s forest.  “And that, Your Majesty, is how we came to be in your country,” Fai finished.

Hearing the conclusion, the elves, including their king, gave the travelers a polite round of applause.  “A marvelous tale indeed,” Thranduil addressed them.  “You have bestowed upon us not only a stirring story, but a wealth of new knowledge.  On behalf of my people, I thank you.”  His gaze moved from traveler to traveler.  “A long and arduous journey has brought you to this point.  And it would seem your travels are far from over.  We cannot guess at what trials you are still to face, but for now, at least, I hope you may find rest and peace.  You are welcome to stay in my realm for as long as your fate allows.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Syaoran replied.  “We are happy to accept your kind offer.”

“Excellent.  Then let us celebrate our new friendship,” the king announced.  “Bring wine and make merriment.  Brighten the Hall with music and song.”

“You needn’t go to such trouble over us,” Fai told him as several of the elves around them got up to begin carrying out the king’s orders. 

“It’s no trouble,” Legolas assured him.  “My father enjoys any excuse to celebrate.”

“And why should I not?”  Thranduil asked his son.  “Is it not our right to seek happiness when we can?”

The prince opened his mouth as if to reply, but then seemed to think better of it.  He shook his head softly.  “Of course, father.  As you say.”

Soon, servers came around with fresh carafes of wine to refill their empty goblets.  Others passed around trays bearing tarts and pastries.  A group of musicians had set up in a corner of the room.  Wood flutes piped an aria to the accompaniment of harps and lutes.

Mokona stood up and began twirling around.  “Woohoo!  Party!” she exclaimed.  “Mokona loves to party!”

Thranduil laughed.  “I think we shall get along well, little one,” he said to her, smiling.

Kurogane allowed himself to begin to relax.  It seemed their plan had succeeded; the king no longer treated them with suspicion.  The ninja sipped at his own glass of wine now, having returned Mokona’s.   His eyes drifted over to Fai.  The wizard caught his gaze and flashed him a smile – a genuine one – before returning his attention to conversing with Thranduil.  Perhaps this would turn out to be a restful world for them after all. 

The evening stretched on for several more hours.  Various elves came to introduce themselves to the travelers who were now their guests.  Wine flowed freely, and all seemed to enjoy themselves.  But eventually, little by little, the room began to empty as the palace residents left to seek their beds.  Those that remained had lowered their voices to a murmur as they listened to the musicians begin another song.  An elf maiden joined her voice to the harps.  The music was soft now, wistful.  It seemed something between a hymn and a lullaby.

Mokona leaned against Kurogane sleepily, an empty goblet wrapped in her tiny arms.  Kurogane reached down and wiped a few stray pastry crumbs from her face.

“Who is this Elbereth she sings of?” Syaoran asked, watching the vocalist across the room.

“She is one of the Powers that govern this world,” Tauriel answered him.  “And of them, she is the most beloved by us elves, for it was she who brought the stars to light.  In all your traveling, have you never heard of her?” 

The young man shook his head.  “Different cultures all seem to have different ways of explaining things like how the stars or their world was created,” Fai explained.  “Some say a god or gods made everything; others say it all happened gradually by natural processes.”

“And how do you say that the worlds came into being?” Thranduil questioned.

The mage shrugged.  “I’m afraid I can’t really answer that, Your Majesty.  I don’t know.  It may even be that the answer is different for each world.  We have visited places so vastly different from each other.  Some have magic, while others do not.  In some, we have even spoken with gods, but that does not mean they exist in other worlds.  And yet,” he continued, taking another thoughtful sip of his wine, “maybe there is some higher order to it all.  There are some things that remain constant no matter where we are.  There is no such thing as coincidence.  And the dead can never be returned to life."

“Perhaps the worlds were created differently, perhaps not,” the king replied.  “Maybe in time you shall discover the answer.  But in your last assumption, at least, you are incorrect.”

Fai looked back at the king.  “What do you mean?”

“Not all that is lost can be reclaimed.  But some who died have returned to life again.”

Kurogane watched the wizard’s mouth open in shock at the king’s revelation.  That look was quickly replaced with a mask of casual placidity, though Fai’s face remained a shade paler than it had been.  “Oh?  I would be very interested to hear about such cases,” he said.

Thranduil shook his head.  “The hour is late, and it is well past time for the telling of tales.  Perhaps another time.”

Extricating the glass from Mokona’s grasp and cradling her in one arm, Kurogane stood up.  If Fai started demanding information now, it might cause the king to grow angry or suspicious and lock them up again.  “Thank you again for your hospitality,” Kurogane addressed the Elvenking.  “Now, if you don’t mind, my companions and I will be heading to bed.”

Thranduil pulled his eyes away from Fai and looked up at the warrior with half of a smile on his lips.  “Of course.  I bid you all good night.”

Syaoran got to his feet and gave the king another brief bow.  When Fai did not seem inclined to move, Kurogane used his free hand to take hold of his shoulder and give him a gentle shake.  The wizard stood and bowed as Syaoran had, and Kurogane turned to lead them from the hall.

“Tauriel, guide our guests back to their rooms,” the king instructed.  Kurogane felt he was perfectly capable of finding their way back on his own, but he paused and allowed the elf woman to take the lead anyway.  They retraced their earlier steps in silence, not speaking until they had reached the front door to their suite. 

Tauriel undid the lock.  Turning to the group, she handed the key to Kurogane.  The suspicion her face had displayed prior to this evening was now replaced with respect as she looked at him.  Her gaze lingered on his left arm for a moment before flicking away to the faces of the others.  “Good night,” she said.  “Rest well.”

Kurogane nodded to her.  “Same to you.”

The travelers reentered their apartment as Tauriel continued down the hall.  Following Syaoran into the first bedroom, Kurogane deposited the sleeping Mokona onto the bed. 

“Do you think it’s true?” the young man asked as Kurogane turned to go.  “What the king said, I mean – about the dead returning to life?”

The warrior frowned.  “Get some sleep, kid.”

“But if it is true…”

“Whether it is or it isn’t doesn’t matter right now.  We’re not going to figure it out tonight.”

Syaoran hesitated indecisively for a moment, before capitulating.  “You’re right,” he said.  “We need to uncover more information first.  I guess it’ll have to wait.  Good night, Kurogane.”

“Good night, kid.”

Kurogane paused at the washroom and washed his face before heading into the room he shared with Fai.  The wizard had already changed into one of the nightshirts that had been laid out for them and sat upon the edge of their bed looking pensive.  Kurogane grabbed the other shirt and began pulling off his clothes, tossing them into a pile in the corner of the room before donning the new garment.  Stretching his arms above his head, he yawned, hoping that these late nights would not continue to be a regular feature of their stay here.  Turning down the covers on his side, he lay down on the bed. 

Fai remained sitting on the other side, apparently lost in thought.  Kurogane’s brows furrowed.  He wished that damn king would have just kept his mouth shut.  “Hey, mage,” he said softly.  “You did good tonight.  Seems they trust us now.”

“Mm.”  Fai’s response was distracted and barely audible.

Usually, any praise from the ninja would have set the wizard beaming with delight.  Kurogane couldn’t keep concern from coming out in his voice as he asked, “You all right?”

The question seemed to snap Fai out of his abstraction, and he turned to smile at the warrior.  “Of course, I’m all right, Kuro-tan.  Now, blow out that candle and get some sleep.  We can’t have you sleeping the day away again tomorrow.”

“Right…” Kurogane replied as the wizard climbed under the blankets.  He turned away from him and extinguished the bedside lamp.  Kurogane had wanted to believe that Fai was done with hiding and lying to him. Something like a weight settled in the pit of his stomach, but he chose to ignore it.  The elves’ wine must not have agreed with him, he told himself.  He’d feel well again by morning.  Pushing the image of Fai’s fake smile out of his mind, Kurogane tried to sleep.

Chapter Text

Blood.  

Blood and ice.  

A king lay dead, pierced by the sword.  Crimson life flowing out to freeze upon the floor, life no more.  More blood, falling upon his upturned face, flooding his open mouth.  

Terror.  

It’s too much blood.  No, please, not him too.  So much blood. I can’t…

With a jolt, Fai awoke from the nightmare, his heart pounding.  The dream had left him chilled and shaken. He shuddered as the images flashed through his mind again: scenes from a world lost.  

Climbing out of the bed, the wizard walked over to the washing alcove and began splashing cool water onto his face.  He took deep breaths, trying to calm his rapid pulse, to ease the lingering anxiety. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he whirled around to find himself staring wild eyed at Kurogane.  Concern marked the warrior’s face. Fai felt his legs begin to waver beneath him.

Kurogane stepped forward and caught Fai in his arms, drawing him close.  The warrior’s body seemed to Fai the only solid fixture in the room. Kurogane held the magician secure against him until Fai’s legs began to steady and his ragged breathing relaxed.

“You know it’ll only get worse, the longer you go without,” the taller man whispered down into Fai’s hair, his breath warm against the wizard’s scalp.  “I don’t care if the elves find out. We’ll deal with them if we have to. You need to drink.”

Fai sighed.  Unfortunately, Kurogane was right.  He had gone too long already. He was beginning to weaken.  Hands still trembling slightly, Fai began to undo the buttons of Kurogane’s nightshirt.  Having gone far enough, he pushed the fabric aside, exposing bare skin. Using one of his sharpened nails, Fai slit a small, shallow opening just beneath the ninja’s collarbone.  Pressing his lips around the incision, Fai began to lap up the small droplets of blood that exuded from the wound.

No matter how many times he did this, the vampiric act had never come to feel normal to Fai.  It was too strange that a part of him thrilled at the taste of Kurogane’s blood. It was unnerving, the aching need he felt for the substance, the undeniable desire that overcame him whenever the warm liquid first touched his tongue.

And yet, as he finished, licking the last trickle of blood from Kurogane’s skin, he felt altogether soothed and satisfied.  The anxious fear of the dream had been wiped away, replaced with calm. His limbs no longer shook as his hands rested lightly on the swordsman’s chest.  Kurogane’s arms still encircled him, pressing gently along his lower back. It was comfortable. Far too comfortable. Fai felt his heartbeat quickening again.

“Fai, I…” Kurogane began, his voice low and soft.

But Fai pulled away, interrupting whatever he had been about to say.  “Thank you, Kuro.” He spoke briskly. “I feel much better now.” It was too early in the morning for the mage to be dealing with these kinds of feelings.

“… Of course.”  The ninja’s voice was strangely muted.  Neither spoke for a long moment.

“Hm, what time is it anyway?” Fai asked, feeling a need to fill the silence that had fallen between them.  “Is it even morning yet? It’s so dark in here all the time.”

“Light some candles then,” Kurogane suggested grumpily.  “I’m sure that elf girl will be along with breakfast before too long.  You can ask her the time then.”

“Where are you going?” Fai asked as Kurogane turned and headed back to their bedroom.

“To put clothes on.  Now, be quiet, or you’ll wake the kid and the creampuff.”

He left, and Fai set to work lighting the candles and lamps of the sitting room.  The room seemed unpleasantly chilled now that Kurogane had left it. The thin fabric of his nightshirt did little to hold in heat, and the wizard found himself regretting pushing away the inviting warmth of the other man’s body.  But he had not dared risk remaining so close for any longer. Lingering in Kurogane’s embrace set his heart to aching. And it was a desire Fai knew had nothing to do with his need for the other man’s blood. Kurogane had already given Fai so much; the wizard could not bring himself to ask for more.  Igniting the final wick, Fai stood gazing into the dancing flame, rubbing his hands against his arms in an attempt to warm them.

“Good morning, Fai.”  Syaoran’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Ah, good morning, Syaoran, Mokona.  Did you sleep well?”

“Mokona slept very well!” the small, furry creature exclaimed.  She hopped out of Syaoran’s hands onto Fai’s shoulder and rubbed affectionately against the wizard’s cheek.  “The beds here are comfy warm, and the wine the king gave us last night made Mokona nice and sleepy.”

“Yes, you certainly were drinking a lot of it,” Fai remarked.

“Did you sleep well too, Fai?” she asked.

“Of course,” the mage fibbed, sitting down on the couch and setting Mokona down beside him.

“Is Kurogane still asleep?” Syaoran asked, seating himself in a chair across from them.

Fai shook his head.  “No, he just left to change clothes.  He should be back out in a minute.”

As if on cue, Kurogane walked out into the sitting room to join them.  “Seems they’re expecting us to stay for awhile,” he observed. “They’ve stashed enough clothes in our closet for over a week.”  The warrior now wore a long-sleeved tunic of dark grey over black pants. Elvish clothing fit him well, Fai noticed. It accentuated his height and lean physique.  Kurogane stood beside the table, arms akimbo.

“Well, there’s no telling how long we’ll actually be here,” Syaoran pointed out.  “It was kind of them to provide us with fresh clothes.”

“Yeah, but it’d be nice if they’d give our old ones back too,” the ninja said, frowning.

“I’m sure they’re just running them through the laundry, Kuro-rin,” Fai said.  “We were rather dirty when we came in, you know.”

“Oh, and I suppose they’re just washing our weapons as well?” Kurogane grumbled.  “If the king’s decided we’re friends, why haven’t they returned our swords?”

“I imagine they didn’t think we’d need them here in the palace in the middle of the night,” Fai attempted to placate him.  “We’ll get them back soon.” Fai sighed inwardly. He supposed it was his own fault the warrior was extra cranky this morning, being woken early by the wizard’s nightmares and then fed upon.

A knock sounded at the door, and Fai rose to answer it.  “Melanna, good morning!” he greeted the elf maiden.

“Good morning,” she replied cheerily.  “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

Fai stood aside as she pushed her cart into the room, laden with fruits, breads, and various other items.  The travelers thanked her and invited her to join them - an offer which she quickly accepted. Kurogane had taken the other chair, so Melanna sat down on the couch beside Fai and Mokona.  “Everyone is talking about your marvelous story,” she told them as they began to eat. “I can hardly believe it myself – so many wonderful worlds you have visited! In all my life, I have never been more than a couple of miles from these caves.  It must be exciting, to travel as you do.”

“Yes,” Syaoran replied.  “Though, it can be dangerous as well.  We never know what sort of place we’re going to end up in next.”

Melanna nodded thoughtfully.  “You’re lucky to have landed here in the Woodland Realm.  Our king keeps us safe from the dangers outside.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurogane asked between mouthfuls.  “What about all those spiders then? Are they the king’s pets?”

“Certainly not!” Melanna exclaimed.  “The spiders have recently started becoming more of a problem, but no one has been seriously injured by them.  The king’s forces come quickly to rout them whenever they cross our borders. The safety of his people is King Thranduil’s highest concern.”

“I’m sure it is,” Fai said in reply.  “Please don’t mind our friend here. He had a rather long night.  I’m sure he meant no offense.”

Kurogane made no comment and continued eating.

“Anyway,” Syaoran picked up the conversation again and changed the subject, apparently sensing the tension that seemed to have risen between the two other men of his group.  “I was hoping we might have a look around the palace today. One of the elves we spoke to last night told us about a library you have here. I’d especially like to see that.”

“Ah, that must have been Saelan,” Melanna answered him.  “He’s quite proud of the king’s library. He’ll talk your ears off with stories from the First Age, though.”

“That’s all right,” the young man assured her.  “I love learning about the history of the people I meet.”

“Then I am sure the two of you will quite enjoy each other’s company,” she reasoned.  “I can take you to meet him after breakfast, if you like.”

“Thank you.”  Syaoran smiled at the elf maid.

“I was wondering,” Fai began, an idea forming in his mind as he glanced over at the still frowning Kurogane.  “Melanna, would it be possible for us to meet with Tauriel today as well? You see, when we first arrived here, we had to relinquish certain items of ours into her care for the time being, and we would rather like to retrieve them now that we’ve been cleared of suspicion.”

“I see no reason why not,” Melanna answered.  “If she’s here, that is. Tauriel is known to often go out on patrol.  Have someone direct you to the armory – that will be the most likely place to find her.”

Fai looked again to Kurogane.  The ninja no longer scowled so heavily.  This may not quite make up for this morning, the wizard reasoned, but it was a start.  He knew Kurogane would be more at ease if he had his sword with him. Excusing himself from the breakfast table, Fai headed to the room he and Kurogane shared to change clothes.

Fai opened the closet door.  Kurogane had not exaggerated – there were indeed a large number of outfits provided for them.  The mage searched through the selection of robes, tunics, and pants, all hanging neatly from hangers.  He chose the item that looked like it would offer the most warmth – a dark blue robe of fleece-like material.  Flipping through, he found a soft grey undershirt and dark grey pants to wear beneath it. Having lived the majority of his life in frigid climes, it was a wonder to Fai that he wasn’t more cold-tolerant.  Of course, he reasoned, pulling off the nightshirt and slipping the silky material of the undershirt over his head, perhaps a life of cold was the reason he preferred to dress in layers. Old habits can be difficult to break.

And it was evident now that the desire for warm clothes wasn’t the only habit Fai had retained.  The wizard’s thoughts were drawn inevitably back to his conversation with Thranduil the previous night.  “Some who died have returned to life again.”  The king’s words reverberated in Fai’s mind.  Everything the travelers had gone through had told them that this was impossible.  The dead could not return to life. Fai had accepted that. Fai thought he had accepted that.

“Fai…” the mage whispered his twin’s name, a familiar sorrow settling into his chest.  If there was even the slightest chance, did he not owe it to his brother and to himself to at least try?  How could he forgive himself if he let this chance slip by?

A quick knock sounded on the door before it opened to reveal Kurogane.  “Hey, we’re about ready to head out,” the warrior said, poking his head in the door.  “Are you decent?”

Fai quickly returned a smile to his face.  It wouldn’t do to worry Kurogane over this matter, especially until he had had time to look into it further.  “Really, Kuro-sama, am I ever decent?” Fai joked in response.

Kurogane narrowed his eyes a moment, seeming to suspect Fai’s jest of being the false front that it truly was.  Fai came very close to caving under that imposing stare, to admitting the doubts and faint hope that clutched at his mind.  But he held fast. He had already troubled the ninja enough for one day. To bring this matter up, especially before Fai had had time to look into it properly, would only upset Kurogane.  “What’s the matter, Kuro-tan?” Fai asked, a smile still firmly etched on his face. “I thought you said we were leaving.”

He heard Kurogane utter a soft sigh before turning away again.  “Right,” the ninja replied. “Come on then.”

Fai followed Kurogane back into the sitting room where Syaoran was helping Melanna clear away the breakfast dishes, stacking them back onto the tray on which she had brought them.  Once the cart had been reloaded, Kurogane held open the door as Melanna pushed it out into the hallway. The four travelers followed her out. Fai noticed that Kurogane had not bothered to lock their door, though he had seen the other man put their key in his pocket.  Considering they had left nothing of their own in the rooms, he supposed it didn’t matter.

Syaoran and Mokona chatted amiably with Melanna as they traveled down the corridor.  Fai chimed in on occasion but found himself too distracted to carry on much of the conversation.  Kurogane followed them all silently.

As they walked, Melanna informed them that she would have to stop by the kitchens first before taking them to see the library.  When they reached their destination, Melanna opened one of a set of wide double doors and pushed her cart inside. The warm scent of baking bread wafted out into the hallway.

“Melanna, there you are,” said a voice from inside.  “What’s taken you so long?”

“I’m sorry, mother,” the elf maiden replied setting her cart against a wall.  “I was talking with the king’s guests.” She motioned with her hand, inviting the travelers inside.

The four rounded the corner, following Melanna into the kitchen.  The room stretched out asymmetrically, a result of having been formed from a natural cave chamber.  Along the left side, where the wall ran straightest, several large ovens glowed warmly, no doubt the source of the delicious aroma.  Other parts of the room held various shelves, tables, and sinks. To the right opened several smaller doorways, leading to storerooms.  Half a dozen elves stopped their work to look up at the travelers.

At the table nearest them, a woman stood up from the stool on which she had been seated, kneading bread dough.  One hand she held over her rounded belly as she used the other to ease herself up; she was with child, and clearly drawing near the end of her pregnancy.  Her hair, a lighter shade of brown than Melanna’s, was held back in a single long braid. Fai could see her resemblance to Melanna in the lines of her face and the grey-green eyes they shared.  This, then, was Melanna’s mother.

“I’m sorry if my daughter has been troubling you,” the woman said, wiping floury hands on her apron as she came to stand nearer to them.

“Oh, she’s been no trouble,” Fai assured the woman.  “In fact, Melanna has been very kind and helpful to us.”

“Oh?”  The woman raised a gracefully arched eyebrow and turned to face her daughter.  “And how have you been helping the king’s guests, Melanna? I thought the captain of the guard only instructed you to bring them their meals.”

“They asked me to show them the way to the library,” Melanna answered.  “And Tauriel never said I couldn’t talk to them.”

Melanna’s mother smiled, shaking her head slightly.  “She always was too full of curiosity for her own good.  And always trying to find ways around the rules,” she said to them.  “What am I going to do if your brother turns out like you?” She rubbed her belly thoughtfully.  “Oh well, no harm done. Show them the way and then hurry straight back. You’ve other tasks to attend to, and you know it.”

“Of course, mother,” Melanna replied, smiling.

“We’re sorry to keep your daughter from her work like this,” Syaoran apologized.

Melanna’s mother shook her head.  “No matter. The work will get done when it gets done.”  She turned back to her daughter. “But don’t take too long about it.”

The group left the kitchen, Melanna leading the way through corridors and down flights of stairs until they at last reached the library.  “Saelan?” she called out as they entered the shelf-lined room. “Saelan, are you here?”

“Melanna?” came a male voice in response.  The voice emanated from a desk in the in the far corner of the room.  Fai could just make out the top of an auburn-haired head from behind a stack of books.  “Melanna, you’d better not be sneaking away from your kitchen duties again. You remember what happened the last time your mother caught you…”  The elf’s voice trailed off as he peeked over the pile of texts and saw the group that had gathered inside his doorway. “The visitors from worlds beyond!” he exclaimed.  “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were coming.” He got up to greet them with a polite bow. “Welcome to the king’s library. How may I be of assistance?”

“Syaoran has expressed interest in learning some of our history,” Melanna answered him.

“Ah, certainly,” Saelan replied, beaming.  “What did you have in mind?” he asked Syaoran.  “I have all sorts of tales to share. Stories of kings and wars long past, of star-crossed lovers, creation and destruction, distant lands beyond the sea…  Some perhaps even to rival your own tale last night, I’d wager. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of transcribing your account for future study.  There were a few points I’d like to clarify with you, however, if you would be so kind.”

Syaoran nodded.  “Of course. I’d be happy to help.”  He followed Saelan back to his desk where the elf began showing him the pages on which he had transcribed the travelers’ story.  Fai felt a brief flutter of anxiety at the revelation that their story would be further scrutinized. If they had made any mistakes in their editing, the secrets they meant to keep hidden may yet come to light.  And worse, it would reveal they had lied to the king. He glanced at Kurogane. If the ninja shared his concern, he did not show it. Fai let out the breath he had been holding. Syaoran was quite capable of handling himself in this sort of situation, he reassured himself.

Fai turned his attention back to Melanna, who now faced Kurogane, Mokona, and him.  “I had best be getting back now,” she said by way of farewell. “I trust you can find your way back all right?”

The two men and Mokona nodded in affirmation.  “See you later,” Mokona said, perched on Fai’s shoulder.  The elf maiden smiled at her and then left to return to work.  Fai looked over at the desk where Syaoran and Saelan were standing.  The young man was struggling to explain the inner workings of the dragonfly engines of Piffle World in terms the elf could understand.  As long as Saelan was only asking questions like that, they had no need to worry.

Fai glanced around the room.  Leather-bound books lined shelves next to cubbies filled with rolled scrolls.  Many of the texts had titles embossed on their spines. Most were written in a curved, flowy script, but a few bore characters of a boxy, angular lettering system.  Fai could read neither of them. In determining the meaning of the king’s riddle, these books would not aid him. He would need to ask, and that had to be done delicately.

But first, there was another matter to attend to.  Fai approached the desk, clearing his throat to gain Saelan’s attention.  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” the mage began. “But I was wondering if you could direct me to the armory.  I was hoping to speak to Tauriel, and I was told that was the most likely place to find her.”

Saelan nodded.  He gave Fai a series of directions, which the wizard did his best to commit to memory.  When the elf had finished, Mokona jumped down from Fai’s shoulder onto the desk. “Mokona is going to stay here with Syaoran and help with the story,” she told Fai.

“All right, little one.  Have fun,” Fai replied, patting her gently on the head.  “We’ll catch up with you later,” he said to her and Syaoran, then turned back toward the door.  “Coming, Kuro-tan?” he asked as he passed the ninja leaning against a bookshelf.

“Yeah, all right,” Kurogane answered.  “Don’t get into trouble you two,” he instructed Mokona and Syaoran as he followed Fai through the door.

The corridors and stairways of the Woodland Realm’s palace wound their way in a meandering fashion, making navigation difficult for those unused to the passageways.  Kurogane only grumbled mildly when Fai got them lost and did not complain when they stopped to ask for more directions. Eventually, they found their way to the palace armory.  It was located near to the main gate where the travelers had first entered under guard. Fai could faintly make out the rushing sound of the river they had passed over. The doorway to the armory was guarded by two elves with spears.  At Fai and Kurogane’s approach, they moved to block the two men’s path.

“We’ve come to speak to Tauriel,” Fai told the elves.  “Is she here?” The guards looked at one another as though uncertain whether to allow them access.

“Let them pass,” came a woman’s voice from within the armory.  The guards moved aside to reveal Tauriel walking to meet them. She was clad in light armor and carried a bow.  Two daggers were belted to her waist. Her long, bright hair fell loose down her back, held away from her face by a series of small braids.  “What can I do for you?” she asked briskly.

Kurogane stepped forward.  “You can return the swords you took from us,” he said.  “You’ve no more reason to withhold them.”

She looked at him a moment, then decided he was correct.  Motioning to another member of the guard, she instructed him to retrieve the travelers’ weapons.  While they waited for him to complete his task, Tauriel invited them inside. The armory consisted of multiple interconnected rooms, used for various functions, including storage, repair, outfitting, and training.  At the moment, a number of elves were in the process of donning sets of light armor, similar to what Tauriel was wearing. Others were checking weapons, looking over their bows and seeing that quivers were well stocked.

“Are you preparing for some kind of battle?” Fai asked Tauriel.

The captain of the guard shook her head.  “Patrol,” she answered. “Spider encroachment on our settlements has been growing more frequent.  We continue to drive them out, but we suspect they have formed some kind of nest in a nearby section of the forest.  Eliminating that will provide our people with a more lasting safety. But first we must locate it.”

As Tauriel finished speaking, the elf she had sent returned with Kurogane and Syaoran’s swords.  He handed them to his captain and returned to making preparations for the patrol. Tauriel held the weapons for a moment, looking them over once more before passing them to Kurogane.  “I see now,” she said. “That it was unnecessary for me to confiscate these.”

Kurogane shook his head.  “You had no way of knowing whether we intended you harm.  You were defending your home. I would have done the same.”  The ninja handed Syaoran’s sword to Fai to hold as he tied his own onto his belt.

Kurogane possessed strength that was more than skill with a sword, and even without a weapon, he could easily defend himself from most foes.  Fai knew that Kurogane’s discomfort being without Ginryū was more than simply that of a warrior lacking a blade. This sword was his most important possession, a lasting tie to his home.

Another elf stepped up and spoke quietly to Tauriel.  When he had finished, Tauriel looked back up at the two men.  “I’m afraid I must ask the two of you to leave now,” she said to them.  “My company is nearly ready to depart.”

The two men took their leave of the armory, returning in the direction of the library.  Though they did not speak, Fai could tell that Kurogane was beginning to feel more relaxed.  As they descended a set of stairs and turned left down the corridor that would take them to the library, they heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the opposite direction.

“Fai Flourite,” the voice called out.  The mage turned at the sound of his name to see an elf striding down the hallway toward him.  “King Thranduil has requested your presence,” the messenger informed him.

Fai had not expected the king to summon them again so soon.  Though he wanted to continue the previous night’s discussion, the wizard had not yet had time to determine how best to approach the subject.  But a king’s summons could not be refused, not if one intended to stay in the king’s good graces. “Please, take us to him,” Fai responded.

The elf hesitated.  “The king has requested only you, sir,” he said, indicating Fai.  Fai did not need to look at Kurogane to know that the warrior’s face registered suspicion.  Truly, Fai did not know either why the king would only wish to see one of the four travelers.  But it could not be helped. “Very well,” Fai said. “Lead the way.”

Fai turned to pass Syaoran’s sword back to Kurogane.  As he handed over the weapon, Kurogane caught his gaze.  His eyes gave a clear warning – be careful. Fai smiled at him as reassuringly as he could.  “I’ll see you later, Kuro-sama,” he said cheerily. “Try not to get too lost without me.”

It earned him half a smile in return.  “You’re the one who got us lost,” Kurogane retorted.  Taking Syaoran’s sword, he continued off in the direction of the library.

Fai followed the king’s messenger in the opposite direction.  At first, it seemed they were headed toward the throne room. And indeed, it seemed the most logical destination.  However, their route deviated and Fai found himself being led once more down unfamiliar corridors. They came upon a large, ornately carved wooden door.  The elf knocked twice. It was opened by yet another elf Fai did not know. “Come,” she said to Fai. “The king is expecting you.”

The door opened unto a small landing from which a winding set of stairs descended.  As they rounded the bend, a room opened before them. A small forest of sculpted stone trees supported the low ceiling with their thick grey boles.  At the room’s center lay a pool of water, still but for a small ripple originating at a quiet spring that trickled down the rockwork. Beyond the water, a window looked out into a larger cavern in which bridges and archways connected paths between doors and stairs, all lit by lanterns, stretching farther than Fai could see.  It was as a balcony from which the king could look out over his kingdom. Fai guessed this room to be an antechamber to Thranduil’s own quarters. Against the back wall, another elf was setting a small table with a carafe of red wine and a platter of fruits, breads, and cheese.

Moments later, the king entered from an adjoining room.  Robed in muted silver, he wore his hair loose and unadorned.  He spared his servants little more than a glance. “You may leave us now,” he informed them.  The two elves bowed and left, ascending the stairs in the direction from which Fai had come, leaving the mage alone with the king.

For a moment, neither spoke.  Thranduil looked at Fai, his pale blue eyes betraying no emotion, giving no hint to the reason for Fai’s summons.  Fai endured the king’s gaze, standing still and quiet. Finally, Thranduil spoke. “I could sense your magic,” he said, “from the moment you set foot into my halls.  It is no small gift, your power.” Fai remained silent, not knowing where the king was going with this statement.

“I thought at first,” Thranduil continued, now pacing slowly toward the side table, “that you were one of the Istari.  One of the blue wizards, perhaps, returned from the far east.” He unstopped the carafe and poured wine into two long stemmed glasses.  “But I was wrong in this assumption,” he said, picking up the glasses and carrying them back toward Fai, “for in truth, you are a mortal man.  You are human, are you not, Fai Flourite?” he asked, offering him one of the glasses.

Fai took it, answering.  “Yes, my lord. I am human,” he said, and wished he was only that.

“Men of my world do not possess such power,” Thranduil commented.  He paused and sipped at his wine. Fai held his glass and said nothing.  “I wonder,” the king continued, “why did you not use your magic against the spiders in the forest?  By your own telling, you allowed the other two men to fight them with swords. Surely, with your power you could have aided them.”

Fai repressed a shudder recalling the travelers’ night in the forest and the malignant presence he sensed therein.  “Your majesty, forgive me for speaking ill of your realm,” the wizard said. “But I dared not use my magic there. I am sure you know better than I what lurks in the shadows.  Your barriers protect your people here from the dark enchantments. I could not risk gaining the attention of whatever was their source.”

“It is well you did not,” Thranduil replied.  Turning from Fai, he stood at the water’s edge, gazing into its depths.  “Greenwood, they used to call this forest. Greenwood the Great. But little by little, a shadow creeps over it.  We scarcely noticed until it had spread. And now all the forest is sick with it, save for this northern corner we still hold to.  The kingdom my father once ruled is reduced to this. Mirkwood, they call it now, and I cannot say that they are wrong.”

“But your barriers here keep the shadow at bay,” Fai pointed out.  “Could you not expand them? Push back the shadow and reclaim your lost lands?”

Thranduil turned back to Fai, giving him a rueful smile.  “If I had power like yours, perhaps,” the king said. “But among my people there is not enough magic for such a task.”

Fai recognized his opportunity.  “My lord,” he began. “You said last night that there are some who have died and returned to life again.  Is that true?”

“It is,” the king replied.

Fai swallowed hard, the anxious hope he had felt when he first heard those words rising to flood his heart again.  “Tell me how.” He stepped toward the elven king, closing the distance between them. “Tell me how, and I will lend you my power.  As much as you need."

Chapter Text

Thranduil and Fai stood by the water’s edge.  The king stared into Fai’s eyes, his pale blue gaze piercing, as though he was trying to search the depths of the wizard’s soul.  “You offer much for so little a return,” the elf said.

It is not so little a return to me, Fai thought, though he would not tell the king that, nor why.  “Nonetheless, it is my offer,” the mage said.

“Then I accept it,” Thranduil replied.  “Though, it may prove difficult. Your magic is different from that of my people, from any in this world.  It will take time to learn to meld them productively.”

“You know already, my lord,” said Fai, “that I do not know how much time we have to stay in your realm.”

Thranduil nodded.  “Then we shall work quickly,” he said.  “But I shall require time to prepare. We will begin tomorrow.  In the meantime,” the king continued, turning and walking back to the side table.  “I shall fulfil my half of this bargain. Come, sit with me.”

Fai felt a chill run down his back.  Crossing to the table, he sat down on a padded wooden chair, opposite the king.  Setting aside his still full wine glass, Fai waited in eager anticipation. Now he would know.

Thranduil reclined in the chair across from the wizard.  “You asked to know,” he began, “how the dead can come to live again.”  He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, twirling the slender stem of his glass in his hand.  “The answer,” he continued, “in its deepest essence, lies in a most fundamental aspect of a person’s being.  Each person consists of two parts: body and spirit. If the body is destroyed, the spirit lives on. So it is, at least, among elves and men.  Whether dwarves have enduring spirits, I do not claim to know, though it would not surprise me to learn that they do not. In any case, there have been instances when a spirit, after losing its body, gains a new body, thus returning to life.”  He paused, taking a sip of his wine. “It is said that elves and men are the Children of Ilúvatar, the firstborn and the followers. Of the differences between them, the most substantial is that of death. Elves are immortal. But that does not mean we cannot die.  We can continue living indefinitely. But if the body is too badly damaged, the spirit can no longer inhabit it. Spirits of elves who have died are summoned to the Halls of Mandos. After a time, some then return, being reborn into new bodies and continuing their lives.”

“With men, it is different,” he continued.  “But you know this already. Humans die by time alone, even if no harm is done to them.  And then, their spirits go elsewhere. It is said that the gift of Ilúvatar to men is that of death and to leave this world.”

Fai’s heart sank in his chest.  He looked down at the table in front of him.  “Then it is only elves, and not men, who can return to life,” he said, his voice sullen.  Silently, he cursed himself. He should have known.

“Not so,” said Thranduil unexpectedly.  Fai’s eyes shot up to look him in the face once more.  “I know of one mortal at least who returned from death for a time.”

“Tell me,” Fai implored him.  “Please.”

“His name was Beren,” Thranduil continued conversationally.  Reaching toward the plate of fruit, he took up a bunch of grapes.  Fai waited as he plucked one off its stem and popped it into his mouth.  The strain of patience was wearing on the wizard, but he endured it. He had no choice but to endure it.

“It was long ago, in the First Age of Middle-earth,” Thranduil said after he had swallowed.  “The tale is a long one, and told best by poets. But I shall tell you in short the portion of his history that relates to your question.  Beren, a mortal, had fallen in love with the daughter of an elven king. He attempted a long and difficult quest in order to gain her hand in marriage, but in the end was mortally wounded.  Lúthien, whom he had loved, followed him shortly thereafter, dying of a broken heart. Because their fates were estranged by nature, she lamented in the Halls of Mandos. It is said that her songs so stirred the heart that even the Powers were moved by her plea, and she and Beren were granted new life, to live out the rest of their days as mortals.  And it is true – their descendants live among us.” His tale completed, Thranduil continued eating grapes.

Fai felt his hope slipping away again.  “Is he the only one, my lord, the only mortal to escape from death?  This Beren?”

Thranduil tilted his head, glancing at Fai.  “If there are others,” he said, “I have not heard of them.”  Fai tried to keep the disappointment from showing on his face, but Thranduil had already caught it.  “It is not the answer you desired to hear,” the king observed.

Fai smiled sadly.  “I should never have expected the answer I wanted to hear.”  He stood up from the table and offered the king a bow. “Thank you, King Thranduil,” he said, “for confirming what I should have already known.”  He turned to leave.

Fai heard the king push back his chair and stand up behind him.  “You should know,” Thranduil said, as Fai turned his head, glancing sidelong back at him, “that it has been hundreds of years since any reborn elf has returned to Middle-earth.  Humans are not the only ones who must live on without their loved ones beside them.”

Turning away again, Fai sighed softly.  It seemed the king had guessed the reason for his question.  “I will return tomorrow as we agreed, to begin strengthening your barriers,” the wizard stated.  “Send for me when you are ready.”

Fai did not wait to be dismissed but left in the direction he had come, treading quickly up the stairs and out the wooden door.  He passed several elves along his way, but he did not make eye contact and kept walking. Fai wandered, not knowing where he was going, nor caring.  His companions were likely still at the library, but he could not face them yet. His heart was heavy, and he needed solitude.

After what felt like an hour, Fai stopped walking.  His feet had taken him deep underground and into a secluded cavern.  It was a grotto lit by a single lantern with a fountain bubbling at its center.  Beside the water stood the statue of a woman. In her hand, she held a star. While the statue and fountain were formed of stone, the star she held aloft was crystal.  Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, but the gem glowed as though lit from within.

Leaning against a wall, Fai slumped to the ground.  Drawing up his knees, he wrapped his arms around his legs, curling himself up as if that could contain the sorrow and pain that were welling up within him and keep it locked inside.  It overwhelmed him anyway. Fai wept, bitter tears running down his face, dripping down to be absorbed in the soft fabric of his robe. He wept for his brother, mourning the loss that could not be regained.  And he wept for himself, for being foolish enough to believe again that there was a chance.

Fai wept until there were no tears left, then breathed a heavy sigh.  He stretched his long legs out before him on the ground. Straightening, he leaned his head back against the cool stone wall of the cave, closing his eyes.  His heart still ached, but it was lessened. The wizard could not remember the last time he had broken down and cried like that. Years of hiding his negative emotions had made such cathartic experiences rare.  Perhaps he was capable of breaking at least some old habits.

It was peaceful in that dimly lit grotto, silent, save for the fountain’s murmur.  Fai lingered there a while longer, breathing the still air, before he decided that he really must get back to the others.  If he were gone too long, Kurogane might think him kidnapped, and who knew what sort of trouble the warrior would get them into then.  Fai almost smiled at the thought. Standing, he wiped his face on the wide sleeve of his robe and tried to compose himself, running his fingers quickly through his hair and straightening the layers of his outfit.

Fai took one last look around the cavern.  His eyes lingered on the statue of the woman.  The star in her hand cast a comforting glow. He almost felt as if he should thank her for allowing him this time in her quiet sanctuary.  Feeling only a little foolish, he offered the statue a small bow of gratitude before turning to leave the cave.

It took some time, but Fai eventually made his way back to the more familiar sections of the Elvenking’s domain.  From there he found the library again without much difficulty. Hearing the voices of his companions and the elf Saelan, the wizard quietly slipped inside the doorway.  Saelan was seated at his desk, taking notes as Syaoran detailed a description of the dragon-like steeds they had encountered in Yama and Shura. Mokona sat atop a pile of books on the desk, chiming in periodic additions to Syaoran’s depiction of the beasts.  Kurogane sat in a chair nestled between two bookshelves. His sword was propped up against the side of the chair; he had already returned Syaoran’s.

Kurogane’s eyes found Fai the moment he entered.  The warrior seemed always to be keenly aware of the presences of others around him, no doubt a benefit of his training as a ninja, but this sense seemed even more acute where Fai was concerned.  Kurogane held the wizard in his deep red gaze, neither speaking nor gesturing. Fai moved toward him almost automatically. Fresh felt grief had left him weary. The mage’s thoughts fled back unbidden to early that morning, clasped in Kurogane’s embrace.  He suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall into the other man’s arms again, to seek comfort in his warmth. Fai banished the thought from his mind. Coming to stand beside the ninja, Fai leaned against a bookcase and folded his arms across his chest. He felt chilled again.

“What did the king want?” Kurogane asked softly, no longer looking at him, but facing straight ahead.

Fai had not yet given thought to how he would answer.  “He wanted to know why I didn’t use my magic to fight the spiders,” the mage replied.  It was the truth.

“And what did you tell him?”  His eyes had found Fai’s again.

“That I did not want to be detected by that dark presence I felt,” Fai answered, leaving it at that.

“You were gone a long time,” Kurogane observed.

“I got lost again on my way back,” Fai said.  That too was the truth.

Kurogane opened his mouth to voice another question, but by that time Fai’s return had been noticed by the others.  “Fai’s back!” Mokona exclaimed, bouncing over to see him. Fai caught her in his arms and smiled at her. “We’ve been talking to Saelan about our adventures this whole time,” the small creature explained.  “He has lots of questions.”

“I’m sure you’re doing a great job answering them for him,” Fai told her.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s okay,” she assured him.  “Now that you’re here, you can tell stories with us too.”

Fai nodded and told her he’d be happy to.  Satisfied, Mokona hopped back over to the desk.  They spent the rest of the afternoon answering Saelan’s varied questions about the worlds they’d visited.  Fai tried to make a point of offering a few of the answers himself, but his mind kept wandering, distracted and lacking focus.  Many times he felt Kurogane’s eyes on him, but Fai chose to ignore him. He spent the hours fending off old memories. As evening wore on, Melanna appeared, bringing dinner.  Having not found them in their rooms, she guessed rightly that the group was still in the library. Fai picked at his food, having little appetite.

After dinner, the conversation switched gears and Saelan began telling them some of the history of this world they now found themselves in, Middle-earth.  He started with an ancient legend telling how the elves believed their world came into being. It was a tale of angels, music, and discord, leading to the moment of creation when their god commanded all the things that had been sung come into being.  Following that, he chronicled the early days of the world, during which the Powers and those other angelic beings who descended to the world with them labored to shape it before the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar. When Saelan spoke of Elbereth, who made the stars, Fai remembered he had heard her name before, the previous night in the Hall of Story and Song.  The wizard realized that she was the one in whose image that statue in the grotto was made. If that cavern was a shrine to her, perhaps that explained the calm, comforting atmosphere it possessed.

As the hour grew later, Fai, who had taken a seat upon a cushion on the floor, noticed that Mokona had fallen asleep in his lap.  Saelan was engaged in detailing for them the lineage of the first elves in Middle-earth. When the elf paused to take a breath, Fai spoke up.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Saelan, but…” Fai gestured toward the sleeping Mokona.

“Ah, yes.”  Saelan nodded gravely.  “I’m afraid I have that effect sometimes.”

“I believe what Fai means is that it’s getting late,” Syaoran explained gently.

Saelan looked up at the clock that stood atop one of the bookshelves.  “Yes, of course,” he replied. “My apologies for keeping you from your rest.”

“It’s all right,” Syaoran said.  “Thank you for sharing your stories with us.  I’d like to hear more. Will you be here again tomorrow?”

Saelan’s face brightened.  “Of course,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you again.  You’re all welcome, of course. Any time.”

Syaoran thanked him again, and travelers got up to bid Saelan good night and take their leave.  Fai carried Mokona as they walked back to their rooms. She had a talent for sensing what others were feeling.  Perhaps that was why she had spent much of the evening cuddled against the depressed mage. He hugged her gently, stroking her soft ears as she slept.  When they had all returned to the apartment they shared, Kurogane locked the door closed behind them and set the key on the table in the sitting room. Fai handed Mokona over to Syaoran who took her to the room the two of them shared.  The three men took turns in the small washroom before heading to their respective beds. Fai doused the lights of the sitting room and returned to the room he and Kurogane shared.

The ninja was changing into his nightshirt as Fai entered.  His back was to the mage. Fai’s eyes glanced over the scarred skin that was exposed as Kurogane pulled off his tunic - physical memories of the battles he had fought.  The mage then followed suit, slipping out of the robe he had worn that day. Fai’s own skin was, for the most part, relatively smooth; his scars were internal. But while Kurogane’s wounds had healed, Fai remained damaged.  That much was evident, the wizard recognized, by his actions today.

“You’ve been very quiet today,” Kurogane observed, as Fai pulled on his own nightshirt.

“Oh?”  Fai asked, wishing Kurogane had not noticed.  “Well, perhaps I’m just tired. The last couple of days have been rather tiring, you know.”  He could still feel Kurogane’s eyes on him. That answer had not satisfied him. Holding back a sigh, Fai turned to face the other man.

The two looked at each other for a long moment, Kurogane sitting on the edge of their bed while Fai stood by the closet.  The wizard’s will began to waver. He could tell Kurogane what he and the king had discussed. He could give in and admit the secret hope he had clung to, the sorrow that felled him when that hope had been dashed.  He might weep again to voice those feelings, and maybe Kurogane would hold him again and comfort him. Maybe he would be the one to pick up the pieces of Fai’s broken heart. But Fai couldn’t keep making Kurogane be the one to clean up his messes, and so he held firm, if only barely.

Finally, Kurogane broke the silence.  Heaving a sigh, the ninja turned down the covers and got into bed.  “If you’re tired, then get to sleep,” he said, turning away from Fai.

The mage let out the breath he’d been holding.  He walked around to his side of the bed and climbed into it, putting out the bedside lamp.  Fai faced out into the darkness, away from Kurogane. Wrapping his arms around his pillow, he buried his face into it and tried to fall asleep.

His sleep, when he finally obtained it, was dreamless, something for which Fai was grateful.  When he awoke, he turned over in bed to find Kurogane already gone. Slipping out of bed, Fai dressed himself and walked out into the sitting room.  There he found the ninja, seated and sipping at a mug of tea.

“I see you finally decided to get up,” Kurogane noticed.

“Sorry, Kuro-pon,” Fai responded, coming to sit on the sofa across from Kurogane.  “How late did I sleep?”

“You missed breakfast,” he replied.  “Here.” He nudged a plate across the table.  “I saved you some of these before the creampuff could eat them all.”  The plate contained a small assortment of pastries. Kurogane knew Fai enjoyed sweet foods.  “The tea Melanna brought this morning isn’t bad either.” He gestured to a glazed clay teapot that sat on a coaster at the end of table.

Fai picked up the empty mug that stood beside it and poured some for himself.  It steamed, giving off a pleasant herbal aroma. “Why didn’t you wake me?” the mage asked.

Kurogane shrugged.  “No need,” he said. “I figured you could use the rest.”

Fai took a bite of one of the pastries.  Its flaky layers tasted of raspberry. “These are good,” he commented.

“The elves in the kitchen would probably give you the recipe if you asked,” the warrior suggested.

Fai nodded.  Finishing his first pastry, he reached for a second one.  Between the sleep and the food, he was feeling almost himself again.  The pain of yesterday had burned back down to a dull ache, and he tamped it down, wary that it might flare up again.  “Where are Syaoran and Mokona?” he asked, realizing they were not in the apartment.

“They left for the library, hoping to hear more of Saelan’s stories,” Kurogane answered.

“You aren’t worried you’re going to miss out waiting around for me?” Fai asked with a smirk.

Kurogane frowned good-naturedly.  “No offence to the elf, but I think I’ve had enough history lessons for a while.  And besides, the kid and the creampuff will tell us if anything interesting comes up.”

Fai smiled at him, sipping at his tea.  It had a pleasant, soothing flavor with something akin to mint.  “And what were you planning on doing all day, while Syaoran and Mokona are at the library?” the mage asked.

“You mean besides wait around for you to wake up?” Kurogane retorted, flashing him half a smile to show he was joking.  The ninja lounged on his chair, his right arm draped over the back of it. His empty mug sat on the table in front of him.  “We’ve been cooped up in these caves for two days now. I want to see if I can get outside, stretch my legs a bit.”

Fai frowned, remembering the spiders and dark enchantments they had faced in the forest.  Kurogane caught the look on his face. “This place has barriers around it, right? To stop that dark haze from the forest from getting too close?” the ninja asked.  “How far do you think they extend?”

“They’re arranged in layers,” Fai replied.  “The strongest ones are only around the palace itself.  As for the less potent ones… I’d say they extend maybe fifteen kilometers at most.  And I wouldn’t trust those to keep everything out; they’re more of a filter than a barrier.”  He knew Kurogane could handle any giant spiders he might come across, but the dark presence he had sensed in the forest still made the wizard uneasy.  “If you want to go, I’d feel better if you took an elf with you as escort. They know the forest best, and we don’t want you getting lost and separated from us.”

Kurogane tilted his head as he looked at Fai.  “You’re not coming?” he asked.

“I promised King Thranduil I would speak to him again today,” Fai replied, setting down his empty mug.  “He said he would send for me, when he was ready. He’s been kind enough to let us stay as guests in his realm, so it would be rude to keep him waiting.”  And I have a deal to keep, Fai thought, though he would not add this aloud. If he told Kurogane that, Fai would have to say for what he had bargained for.  The mage was not willing to confront that pain again so soon.

Kurogane’s face betrayed suspicion again, but he did not press the matter.  Instead, he asked, “What are you going to do until the king summons you?” Fai blinked at him.  He had not actually thought about it. “Come on,” Kurogane said, standing up. “We’ll tell the elves guarding the gate where we’re going.  Thranduil’s messenger will find you just as easily as if you were here in the palace. I told the kid we might be going for a walk, so he’ll send them that way if they ask.  The fresh air will do you good.”

Fai found no reason to argue, and so he agreed, standing and following Kurogane out of the apartment.  By now they knew the corridors and pathways that ran near their apartment, and they found the front gate without becoming lost.  As they approached, the pair of elves on guard duty looked at them with some confusion. “Good morning,” Fai said to them cheerfully.  “Lovely day, isn’t it?” The gate stood open during the day, and he could see sunlight shining on the stone bridge beyond. “My companion and I were hoping to take a walk outside,” he continued.  “We’re not used to being underground for so long.”

The elves looked at each other.  One nodded. The other replied. “Very well,” he said.  “But do not stray too far.”

The two men agreed and stepped through the tall doorway, out into the morning.  Side by side, they crossed over the bridge. A torrent of water surged beneath them, gaining speed as it plunged downward and curved around the base of the small mountain in which the Elvenking’s palace was built.  Large beech trees grew on both sides, their roots grasping and clinging at the river’s steep, rocky banks. Moss clung to stone and wood alike, thriving in the mist of falling water. Fai looked back as they reached the opposite side.  Elegant scrollwork adorned the archways of the gate. Thick stone pillars carved like interwoven branches held up the rocky outcrop above it like a ceiling. Like everything else in Thranduil’s halls, it was a harmony of nature and artistry.  It seemed these elves did not so much build as reshape the world around them, working meticulously to reveal the beauty and functionality hidden within the stone.

The two men turned left from the bridge and followed a path that ran alongside the river.  The weather was pleasant, not overly warm. Midmorning sunlight filtered down through leaves to dapple the path and sparkle on the running water below.  Green foliage marked the season as summer. Occasionally, other small paths forked away and ambled off into the forest beyond, but Fai and Kurogane kept to the main road.  With the river beside them, they would not become lost. Birdsong accompanied the sound of rushing water. Fai looked for them in the trees, but they were hidden from his sight.

They walked for an hour along the path, alone save for the occasional squirrel.  Fai tried to enjoy the time. He pushed away thoughts of Thranduil and what he had promised him.  Such things could wait. Kurogane seemed relaxed and at ease. Fai chatted casually with him as they walked about whatever inconsequential thing popped into his head.  He guessed at the names of the birds they were hearing, made comments about the lovely weather, and laughed when a squirrel nearly dropped an acorn on Kurogane’s head. Things seemed almost back to normal.

As they rounded another bend, the two men began to hear the voices of elves up ahead.  They followed the sound a little way up one of the branching paths and found it led to a clearing.  About a dozen elves stood on the grass, engaged in various exercises. Most of them were lined up along the left hand side of the field, taking turns at archery, aiming for a set of targets that hung from trees at the other end.  A distance away, to the right, two pairs of elves were engaged in sparring matches, one set with long daggers, the other with swords.

Tauriel stood among the archers.  She noticed the two men’s approach and raised a hand in greeting as she walked over to meet them.  “I did not expect to see you outside the palace,” she said. It was a casual observation, and she smiled as she said it.

“It was too nice a day to spend inside,” Fai replied.  “Actually, going for a walk was Kuro-tan’s idea.”

Kurogane was looking around at the other elves in the clearing.  “This is where your people do their weapons training?” he asked, observing the two pairs who continued their sparring.

“This is one of our practice fields,” Tauriel answered.  “We have several others, including a larger one, northeast of the palace, where we can rehearse army formations.  There are also several rooms within the caves that are equipped for archery practice and hand to hand combat.” She glanced at the sword that hung from Kurogane’s belt.  “As the king’s guest, you are, of course, welcome to train with us, if you wish. I am sure there is much we could learn from a swordsman such as yourself.”

It seemed to Fai that the captain of the guard was much more interested in talking to Kurogane than to him.  The mage meandered in the direction of the archers. Fai was no stranger to the use of a bow. The bows these wood-elves carried were clearly well made.  He watched as one of the archers drew back an arrow and released. It landed with a thud just shy of the center of the middle target.

“May I?” Fai asked politely as he approached.  One of the archers handed the mage a bow and motioned for him to take a turn.  Fai studied the weapon in his hands. As with everything these people made, he noticed, the craftsmanship was exquisite.  The wood was smooth, stained dark brown, decorated with thin trailing vines of inlaid gold.

Fai drew an arrow from a quiver that stood upright on the ground.  He took up his stance, nocking the arrow and drawing it back to his ear.  He aimed at the first target and released. The arrow sped from the string and lodged itself into the wood of the target, a handbreadth above its center marker.  Taking up another arrow, he shot at the second target, taking it just a smidge to the right. On the third target, he hit his mark, dead center.

“The traveler shoots well,” one of the archers observed from behind the mage.

Fai turned and handed back the weapon.  “Thank you,” he said. “It’s been some time since I’ve gotten to do that.  I became quite familiar with archery during Kuro-sama and my stay in the country of Yama.  It’s a skill I like to keep fresh in case I ever need it again.”

Another of the archers looked at him with some confusion.  “I thought the tall swordsman’s name was Kurogane,” she said.

“It is,” Fai said.  “Kuro-sama is just a nickname.  Do your people not use nicknames?”  The elf shook her head. “Ah, well, it’s a common form of affection in many cultures,” Fai explained.

“Hey mage,” Kurogane’s voice sounded from back at the entrance of clearing.

Fai excused himself from the group of archers.  “Coming, Kuro-pon,” he said cheerily.

“Messenger for you,” Kurogane said as the wizard approached, pointing backward with his thumb toward another elf who had just arrived at the practice field.  He was the same who had come to collect Fai the previous day.

“King Thranduil is expecting you,” the messenger told Fai.  “He would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

“I’ll come right away,” Fai replied.  Then he turned back to Kurogane. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later, Kuro-pii.  Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Kurogane caught Fai’s gaze and held it, studying the wizard’s face.  Fai feared for a moment he would begin questioning why the king wished to see him again so soon.  Instead, the warrior turned his eyes elsewhere. “Yeah, take care,” he said.

The elven messenger had already started back down the path.  Fai hurried to catch up with him. Matching the elf’s pace, Fai glanced back.  Tauriel was engaging Kurogane in conversation once again, but he saw the ninja watching him leave out of the corner of his eye.  Fai thought he noticed a hint of concern in Kurogane’s expression. It was subtle – he would not want the elves to see it – but Fai recognized it anyway.  The wizard sighed. He was causing trouble for Kurogane again, even as he tried not to.

The walk back to the palace was accomplished more quickly than Fai and Kurogane’s walk from it.  The elven messenger kept up a brisk pace and made no attempt to engage Fai in conversation. The wizard followed, just as silently, several paces behind him.  Despite the companion, Fai was alone with his own thoughts again. He wondered, as they walked, how he would keep his word to Thranduil. The elven barriers were structurally complex.  He could not simply apply more power and expect it to work. Would the king try to teach him to work these complicated magics himself? Was Fai’s power even compatible with the elven spells?  The king had said it would be difficult to meld their magics effectively. He must have some plan in mind. Eventually, Fai resolved himself to the fact that he would simply have to wait to find out what the Elvenking would do.  He would learn soon enough.

Fai and the king’s messenger passed back through the main gate and into the palace once more.  Though the wizard could have found his own way, the elf brought him all the way to Thranduil’s quarters again.  The messenger knocked twice on the large wooden door, as he had done before, but this time he opened it himself, gesturing for Fai to enter.  The mage did so and the door was shut behind him. The wizard paused for a moment at the top of the stairs. He straightened his clothes, a tunic of muted heather hue, with long belled sleeves, belted around his slender waist, making certain he looked presentable.  Then, taking a deep breath, he hesitated no longer and descended the stairs.

Fai entered into the softly lit antechamber.  The king was waiting for him, standing in the doorway of an adjoining room, draped in a rich russet cloak.  There were no servants about. The two were alone.

“Come,” Thranduil said, leading Fai into the next room.  The mage stepped past the pool of water and into a well-furnished sitting room.  The elf turned to face him, his clear blue eyes meeting Fai’s. “Are you still prepared to do as we discussed yesterday?” he asked the wizard.

Fai nodded, not breaking eye contact.  “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.  I will help you if I can.”

“Very well,” the king responded.  “Then we shall begin. You may be seated.”  Thranduil indicated a place on a long wooden sofa.  Fai sat down upon the embroidered upholstery that covered its seat, folding his hands in his lap.  “I have given much thought since you left as to how this task may be accomplished,” the elf continued.  He remained standing, pacing slowly across the floor in front of the wizard, long robes swirling about his ankles.  “You do not weave spells as we do, and to teach you how, even if it could be done, would take too long. To use your magic,” he stopped moving to look directly at Fai once more, “I shall have to channel it through myself.  Is that acceptable?” The king stood gracefully still then, head tilted just slightly, watching wizard to judge his reaction. He reminded Fai of a bird of prey, the way he stared so intently.

“That will be fine,” Fai answered him.  So that is how it will be done, the wizard thought to himself.  Fai would simply supply the power while Thranduil configured the spells.  It seemed fulfilling his end of the bargain would not be difficult after all.  Fai had magic to spare.

His affirmative answer brought the trace of a smile to the elf’s lips.  “Then let us begin,” he said, seating himself next to Fai on the sofa, an arm’s distance apart.  He looked Fai in the eyes once again. The hint of a smile was gone. “This may be uncomfortable,” the king said.  Whether that statement was meant as an apology or warning, Fai did not know. “Are you ready?” he asked the mage.

Fai nodded.

“Close your eyes,” Thranduil commanded softly.  “And give me your hands.” Fai did as he was bid, turning his body toward the king and extending his hands, palms upward.  He felt the elf touch him, smooth fingertips tracing over his skin as Thranduil’s hands came to rest lightly over his own. He lingered a moment before it began.

Fai could not help but gasp as a small tendril of magic slipped into him via the physical contact.  It slid through him like a chill. He had to fight back his initial instinct to recoil. The power felt foreign, invasive.  It moved through him, searching. The mage tried to force himself to relax – he had agreed to this, after all – but he had no control over his quickening heartbeat.  Finally, the searching tendril found what it had been seeking.

Fai shuddered involuntarily as the king’s magic came into contact with his own, but the wizard did not pull away.  The tendril became a tether. It seemed to grasp at a small portion of Fai’s power, then began to knead at it, coaxing and working it outward.  The sensation was unsettling. Fai’s breath came in shallow gasps. The tether became a conduit, drawing the wizard’s magic in the direction from which it had come.  Fai felt it leave him like water, trickling from his fingertips. After a moment, Thranduil halted the flow of power. He withdrew his own magic from the mage’s body and removed his hands.

Fai’s eyes fluttered open.  The experience had left him lightheaded and disoriented.  Slowly, his breathing and heart rate resumed their normal rhythms.  As the world came back into focus, he saw the king watching him. A faint glitter lingered in Thranduil’s pale blue eyes, the afterglow of powerful magic.  He had tasted only a little of Fai’s power, and now a hunger showed on his face as he looked at the wizard. It was a feeling to which the vampire could relate.  The Elvenking closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his visage had resumed its usual impassive serenity.

Fai had had spells cast on him before, and he had cast plenty of his own, but this experience had been entirely different.  To have his own power drawn out from the inside by another felt more than strange. It had not been painful. Uncomfortable, as the king had described it, but it was something more than that, something Fai could not quite grasp.  The mage felt violated, and yet, he almost wanted more.

“That will be all for the day,” Thranduil said, standing up smoothly from the couch.  He crossed to a table that bore a carafe of wine. Pouring himself a glass, he took a long sip of it.  He glanced back at Fai, then poured a second glass. Returning, he offered it to the wizard. The mage accepted it with hands still somewhat trembling.

Fai raised the cup to his lips.  The wine was red, sweet and refreshing.  “It will become easier,” the king said as Fai drained his glass.  The liquid settled into the mage’s stomach, warming and soothing him.  Of course, that was not to be the end of it, the wizard thought. The king had only taken a tiny fraction of Fai’s magic, not nearly enough to be of any real use in the plan he had proposed.  Today had been but a test, he realized.

“I believe I understand it better now, your magic,” the elf continued, “and how to use it.  Come to me again tomorrow, when you have recovered, and we shall begin our task in earnest.”  He turned from Fai and sipped again from his wine glass, one arm folded across his chest.

“Have you done this before?” Fai asked, setting his empty goblet on an end table.

Thranduil shook his head.  “No,” he said. “I have not.”  His gaze grew abstracted, as though he was remembering events long past.  “Something similar, perhaps,” he amended, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips.  “But no, that was different.” Fai waited to see if Thranduil would add anything further.  He did not. “You may go,” the king said, not turning to look at Fai again. “I shall not send another messenger.  Return when you are ready. If I am not here, you may wait.”

Fai took this as his cue to leave.  Rising slowly, still slightly unsteady, he offered the king a bow and left silently in the direction he had come.  Fai was grateful the king was finished with him for the day. The encounter had left the mage weary. He made his way unhurriedly back to the apartment that the four travelers shared.  Kurogane had left the door unlocked again when they had left in the morning, and Fai opened it to find the rooms still empty of people. The mage lit a single candle from the oil lamp they kept burning near the entrance and took it to the room he and Kurogane shared.  He used it to light a bedside lamp, then put it out, setting it on a night stand to let the wax cool.

Fai climbed onto the bed and spread out on his back.  He lay motionless, staring up at the stone ceiling. In his mind, he retraced what had transpired between himself and the Elvenking, trying to puzzle out his strange reaction.  The discomfort made sense; the elf’s magic was foreign to his body. But the other emotions it elicited were not so easy to comprehend. The wine the king had given him was strong and beginning to take full effect on Fai’s tired brain.  Finally, he gave in, closing his eyes and allowing himself to doze.

Fai awoke later, lying on his side, his head on Kurogane’s pillow.  Whether he had been asleep minutes or hours, the mage did not know, but the nap seemed to have taken the edge off the strain his encounter with the king had put on him.  Sitting up, he stretched his arms above his head. His muscles felt stiff. The mage realized he must have been holding them tensed while Thranduil had been in the process of drawing out his magic.  The other travelers still had not returned.

Getting out of bed, Fai crossed to the closet and pulled out a fresh set of clothes.  Folding these over his arm, he put out the lamp in the bedroom and left the apartment once more.  The mage headed in the direction of the baths. Hot water would likely loosen his stiff muscles. Entering, he accepted a towel and small basket of toiletries from the bath attendant.  Several of the larger pools were already occupied. Fai made his way down to the lower right hand side of the room. Walking down an incline, he found a smaller, secluded pool tucked behind a high bank.  Fai stooped beside it and trailed his fingers along the surface. It felt hot enough to be effective.

Setting down his basket, along with the towel and clean clothing, the wizard began disrobing.  He stepped out of his soft leather shoes and stripped off the stockings he wore beneath them. Undoing his belt and setting it aside, he pulled the tunic off over his head, then folded it neatly before adding it to the pile.  Next, the pants. He undid the drawstring that held them up and slipped them down his long legs. These too were folded and placed aside, as were his undergarments. Piling his hair in a messy bun on top of his head, Fai secured it with a clip he had found in the basket.

Finally ready, the mage eased himself down into the pool, slowly lowering himself into the hot water.  The basin was smaller than the pool he, Kurogane, and Mokona, had bathed in previously. There was no room for swimming here, but Fai was content to simply lounge in it.  Seated upon a wide stone bench that had been built into the pool’s outer wall, Fai rested his head against the edge and closed his eyes.

A trailing vine grew along the tall bank at the back of the pool.  Its small pale flowers emitted a sweet, calming scent. For several long minutes, Fai was still, breathing the steamy air and letting the heat of the bath seep into his muscles.  After a time, he reached up his hands and began massaging the tight muscles between his shoulders and neck. Not long after he’d begun, he felt the water about him stir as another body entered the water.  Fai did not need to look to know who it was. “Hello, Kuro-sama,” he said, placing a smile upon his face, but without opening his eyes. “How did you find me?” His hands continued working at the back of his neck.

“You’re the only other adult human in this mountain.”  Kurogane’s low voice sounded to the wizard’s left. “It wasn’t difficult.  Here, let me do that.”

Fai’s hands stopped their motion and he turned to look at the ninja.  Kurogane’s garnet-hued eyes watched him with the same concern Fai had seen in them countless times.  He could tell the warrior he was fine, but he knew Kurogane would not believe him. And the offer he was making was too tempting to turn down.  Fai lowered his hands and turned his back to Kurogane.

Fai felt Kurogane reach out first to move aside a wayward lock of hair that had fallen across the wizard’s back.  His hand brushed the side of Fai’s neck as he gently lifted the fallen strands and tucked them back up with the rest of the mage’s blond mane.  This accomplished, he began massaging the wizard’s neck and back.

The pressure from Kurogane’s left hand was noticeably lighter than his right.  Though the mechanical arm was the most advanced model available in Piffle World, it still had its drawbacks.  It allowed for an amazing ability of sensing and fine motor control, plenty for most tasks. But when it came to delicate work like this, Kurogane trusted his natural arm more.  He did not wish to inadvertently injure the man he was trying to help. Kurogane was as aware of this imbalance as Fai was, and made certain to work both sides of Fai’s back with his right hand.

Fai endeavored to make small talk as Kurogane eased the tension out of his stiff muscles.  “So,” he asked, “how long ago did you get back?”

“Not long,” the warrior answered, moving his thumbs in slow circles over the wizard’s trapeziuses.

“Are Mokona and Syaoran still at the library?” Fai asked.

Kurogane made an affirmative noise.

“You didn’t invite them to join us?”

“They were busy,” Kurogane responded, “in the middle of some long poem.”

“Ah,” Fai acknowledged.  “Well, I suppose we’ll have to send them to take baths later then.  We should all take advantage of this place while we’re here. It’s quite relaxing.”  He was silent for a moment before continuing. “Did you walk much farther out in the forest today?”

“Tauriel showed me around to the other training fields, all except the one on the far side of the palace,” Kurogane replied, stroking the muscles along the edges of Fai’s shoulder blades.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you,” Fai teased.

Kurogane made no comment on that.  “She invited me to go with them the next time her group goes on patrol,” he said.

Fai stiffened slightly beneath the ninja’s hands.  “And what did you say?” he asked, keeping his voice light.

“That I’d consider it,” Kurogane answered.  His right hand moved up and began gently working the back of Fai’s neck, while his left rested on the wizard’s left shoulder.

“If you go too far,” Fai cautioned, “you’ll get out of range of Mokona’s translating ability.  You won’t be able to understand them.”

“You went through six months in Yama not understanding anyone and still fought in battles,” Kurogane pointed out.

“Yes, but that was different,” Fai said.  “I had you.”

Kurogane’s hands stopped moving and came to rest on the mage’s shoulders.  “You could come with me, you know,” he said softly. “The elves could lend you a bow.  You wouldn’t have to use your magic in the forest.”

Fai considered it.  It was almost tempting, the thought of fighting side by side with Kurogane again.  Not that Fai truly longed for battle, but he and the ninja paired well together. Things were simpler when they faced a common enemy.  In Yama, they had learned to communicate without words. They could do it again.

But there was still Fai’s promise to the Thranduil.  If his sessions with the king continued to drain him as this first one did, he would not have the energy to fight.  Fai shook his head. “You go, if you want. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Kurogane asked in response.  No, thought Fai, not always. He could think of at least two instances in which Kurogane had acted quite recklessly, but he did not say this aloud.  Kurogane resumed Fai’s massage, moving down his back. “She said she needed to get approval first anyway,” he continued, “with us being the king’s guests.”

They bathed in silence for a time after that, as Kurogane continued his work on Fai’s muscles.  Fai sat sideways on the stone bench in the water with one leg tucked under the other. He leaned against the side of the basin, his right arm laid on the stone, his head pillowed on it as Kurogane massaged his lower back.  Even more than in his shoulders, this was where Fai carried the physical signs of his stress. The mage breathed in sharply and held it as Kurogane pressed his thumb into a particularly stubborn knot.

“Breathe,” the warrior reminded him gently.  His left hand rested on Fai’s hip, bracing the mage as his right hand kneaded at the clenched muscle.  Fai focused on inhaling and exhaling. The knot loosened and Kurogane rubbed the spot more gently before moving on to the next one.  It took time, but eventually all the knots were worked out. Kurogane traced his hands gently over the length of Fai’s back to check if there were any he had missed.

“I think you got them all, Kuro,” Fai said softly.  Crossing an arm over his chest, he reached back to catch the warrior’s hand as it traced over his shoulder, stopping its motion.  They were still for a moment, Fai’s hand over Kurogane’s, quiet as each waited for the other to make the next move.

Fai did not know what he had intended, grabbing Kurogane’s hand like that.  It had been a mistake; he was not thinking. A nervous tension coiled itself in the pit of his stomach.  The wizard felt his cheeks flush and hoped the warrior would believe it was only the heat of the bath. Fai released Kurogane’s hand, turning smoothly away from his touch.  “Well,” he said, “I suppose we ought to actually clean ourselves while we’re here.” He loosed the clip from his hair, which fell in a tangled mess about his face. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Fai slipped beneath the water’s surface.  Staying underwater for a moment, he worked his fingers through his hair, along his scalp, ensuring it was thoroughly wetted.

The mage popped back up and moved to search the basket for a shampoo.  Kurogane had beat him to it. “This one,” the warrior said, tossing Fai a small bottle.

“Thanks.”  Fai uncorked it and poured a dollop into his palm.  The viscous liquid smelled of violets and lilacs. “I thought Kuro-tan didn’t like floral scents,” the wizard teased.

Kurogane shrugged.  He was leaned back against the edge of the back now, relaxed.  It put Fai at ease. “Seemed to suit you,” the ninja said casually.

Fai worked the gel through his hair, scrubbing it into his scalp, before rinsing it all out again.  As he came up afterwards, pushing wet bangs from his face, Kurogane had another bottle ready for him.  “What’s this?” Fai asked.

“Conditioner of some kind.  It’s supposed to help with the tangles,” Kurogane answered, hooking one finger through Fai’s hair to illustrate its necessity.  Fai hated to admit it, but the longer his hair grew, the more maintenance it seemed to require. There were merits to the short lengths at which Kurogane and Syaoran kept their hair.  Fai uncorked this bottle as well. He was a little surprised to find that its aroma matched that of the shampoo. Kurogane must have picked these out especially for Fai. The wizard began working the substance through the length of his hair.

“You’ll want to leave it in for a bit,” Kurogane instructed.  “That’s what the guy at the front said.”

It seemed that Kurogane was going out of his way again to make Fai comfortable.  It was the kind of thing that felt good and hurt all at the same time. Kurogane was always there for him.  And Fai could never do enough to repay him. Over and over, the mage caused this man suffering, and even if it was not by Fai’s own choices, even if it could not be avoided, it still happened because of Fai.  Fai could not live without causing Kurogane pain. And yet, still Kurogane stood by him.

The dimensional witch had told Kurogane when he turned Fai into a vampire, that the need for blood would be negated if the wizard could reclaim his lost eye, and with it his magic.  The eye had been returned to him, but not before Fai had given up his remaining magic in exchange for Kurogane’s mechanical arm, an arm which, despite the updates and adjustments made to it in Piffle World, still caused the ninja occasional pain – a fact that Fai never let himself forget.

Fai’s magic increased with use.  His eye had been returned to him with far more power than it had originally contained.  They had thought that would be enough to make up the deficit. For a time, it seemed that it was.  But then the hunger had returned. Kurogane had taken the revelation better than Fai had. He was patient, said he did not mind continuing to share his blood with the vampire.  But Fai did not feel the same. He cared for Kurogane more than anyone. He did not want to continue hurting him and leeching off of his kindness.

Perhaps now there was a way.  Fai combed through his tangled hair, thinking.  His magic increased with use. King Thranduil had need of his magic, and Fai had agreed to help him.  If the wizard gave it to him in large enough quantities, it may increase his power enough to finally negate the vampirism.  He could free Kurogane of the need to feed him. The process would be exhausting. Fai had never calculated the rate at which his magic grew.  Magic was not an easy thing to quantify. He would simply have to use as much as he could and hope it would be enough. Fai glanced back to Kurogane, who was washing his own hair, and made his decision.  For this man’s sake, he would do whatever it took.

Chapter Text

Kurogane watched Fai comb through his wet blond locks.  The mage’s bright blue eyes were shadowed by his long lashes, and he seemed lost in thought.  Fai was stressed. Kurogane could feel it in the tension he had pressed from the wizard’s muscles.  And the warrior was fairly certain it was that elven king’s fault. Ever since the night the companions had told their story and Thranduil had let slip the suggestion that the dead could come back to life, Fai had been out of sorts.  And now there were these secret meetings between the king and the mage. Kurogane wanted to ask Fai what was going on, but he knew the chances of him getting a straight answer were low.

Kurogane frowned when he knew Fai wasn’t looking.  He had thought they were past this, the lying, the hiding.  The wizard was falling back into old habits. Kurogane was trying to be patient with him.  He knew what had happened to Fai; he had seen his past. Thranduil had inadvertently dug up painful memories, and now Fai, it seemed, was suffering for it.  Kurogane wanted to help. Gods knew he cared for the man. But when Fai closed himself off like this, it was difficult for the ninja to act. He offered him physical comfort where he could, but even in this, Fai was giving him mixed signals, drawing him near one moment, pushing him away the next.  But he had accepted Kurogane’s offer of a massage this afternoon, and so maybe that was a step back in the right direction.

Fai had finished combing through his hair.  The mage coiled it atop his head again, more neatly this time, and settled back to wait.  “It’s nice here,” the mage said softly. “I hope we get to stay for a while yet.”

Kurogane sighed quietly.  Uncertain whether he shared the wizard’s opinion of Thranduil’s domain, he chose not to comment.

“The food’s good too,” Fai continued.  “Is it nearly time for lunch, do you think?”

Kurogane frowned to hear that the skinny mage had unknowingly skipped another meal.  “We’ll be having dinner with the kid and the creampuff in about an hour,” he said.

“Hmm… that late already?”  The mage acted completely unconcerned, leaning against the side of the bath and closing his eyes.  “I suppose we should finish up here and dry off. Do you suppose this stuff’s been in long enough?” he asked, indicating the conditioner in his hair.

“It’s probably fine,” Kurogane answered.  The wizard slipped back beneath the water to rinse.  When he had resurfaced, he climbed out onto the pool’s edge, where he sat, legs dangling down into the water, ringing out his hair.  Kurogane waited another minute before climbing out as well. The two dried themselves with the towels they had obtained from the bath attendant.

Fai dressed himself in the fresh set of clothes he had brought with him.  Kurogane had not thought to bring another set, and so he put back on the clothes he had worn there.  They were clean enough. The pair returned to their apartment.

Fai lit lamps and candles, and the two of them relaxed in the sitting room, waiting for Syaoran and Mokona to return.  Kurogane could still smell the perfume of the hair products Fai had used, the subtle, lingering scent of lilac and violet.  It was pleasant – sweet, without being overwhelming. The wizard amused himself by plaiting small braids into his drying tresses, attempting to copy some of the styles he had seen elves wearing around the palace.  He was not good at it. The braids came out uneven and messy when they came out at all. Fai laughed as he undid each failed attempt. Kurogane considered offering to assist him, but he knew he’d be no better at it and contented himself with watching.

Before long, their two companions returned.  As they entered the room, Mokona jumped from Syaoran’s shoulder to land on Kurogane’s head.  “Kuro-puu, your hair’s wet!” she exclaimed. “Did you get rained on?” Kurogane snatched her gently from his head.

“Kuro-tan and I just got back from a bath,” Fai explained, smiling at her.

“You went again without Mokona?” the small creature asked, her tiny brows squishing together, as she sat on Kurogane’s knee.

“It’s okay, Mokona,” Syaoran said, sitting down beside them.  “I haven’t seen the baths yet, so how about you and I go together later?”

“Okay,” Mokona replied, brightening up again.

“Did you two have a nice day at the library?” Fai asked them.

“Mmhm.”  Mokona nodded enthusiastically.  “Saelan read us a really long poem.  It was full of all sorts of adventures!  It didn’t rhyme, though…”

Syaoran laughed softly.  “Yeah, I guess poetry tends to lose something in translation,” he admitted.  “It was still very interesting, though. The elves recon time in ages from the beginning of their history.  We’re in the third of those ages now. Year 2770 of the Third Age of Middle-earth. The story in the poem Saelan recited for us today took place back in the First Age.  Did you know there are still some elves in Middle-earth who were alive all the way back then? It’s amazing. I can’t imagine how much history a person would get to see firsthand living for thousands of years like that.”

“It would be quite an experience,” Fai agreed.  “So, what was the poem about?” he asked politely.

“All sorts of things!”  Mokona chimed in. “Kings, and really shiny jewels, and werewolves, and a woman with shadowy hair, and a big doggie, and – oh Fai, Mokona’s glad you’re not a giant bat thing!” she cried out, jumping over into Fai’s lap.

“I’m not a… what?” Fai asked in confusion, catching the white creature in his arms, a perplexed look on his face.

“There was a vampire in the poem,” Syaoran explained with an apologetic smile.  “Or, what they call a vampire here, anyway. She was a large, bat-winged creature.  Definitely evil.”

“Then it’s a good thing we didn’t tell the elves our mage is a vampire,” Kurogane commented.  “Good call on that.” He inclined his head in Fai’s direction.

Fai’s eyes were downcast.  He appeared uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had turned.  Kurogane was about to change the subject, but Syaoran, who had also noticed, spoke first.  “Did the two of you end up walking outside at all?” he asked Fai and Kurogane.

Fai relaxed, easing into a natural smile.  “We did,” he answered. “The weather was lovely, and it was a very nice walk.  Kuro-puu was out longer than I was. Tell them about the training fields Tauriel showed you, Kuro-tan.”

Kurogane described for his companions the parts of the forest he had been shown during his tour with the captain of the guard.  Having watched several sparring matches between the elven soldiers, he detailed for his listeners points he had noticed on the wood elves’ style of swordplay.  The ninja had been impressed with their speed and agility, the fluid motion of their movements. As he spoke, he looked around at the group. Syaoran, a swordsman himself, paid close attention.  Fai watched him talk, a look of fondness on his face as he stroked Mokona’s ears while she sat in his lap. The small creature leaned back comfortably against the mage, enjoying Kurogane’s story.

As Kurogane was describing the setup of the last of the outdoor practice fields he had been shown, a knock sounded on their apartment door.  Kurogane paused in his narrative and rose to answer it. Opening the door, he found Melanna waiting with a cart bearing their dinner. He invited her in, but she declined.  “Mother has me running errands for her, so I can’t stay,” she apologized. “I’ll be back later to pick up the dishes, though. If you could just leave them on the cart and put it back out in the hallway, that would be very helpful.”

Kurogane agreed and thanked her.  Turning, Melanna traveled back down the hallway in the direction of the kitchens.  Kurogane wheeled the cart in to where his companions sat waiting. Together, they unloaded the food they had been sent.  Dinner consisted of salad and venison stew. The group sat around their sitting room table and conversed amiably as they shared the meal.

The salad was made up of a mixture of greens and herbs and came with a cruet of honey-colored dressing.  Kurogane ate his, but was not overly fond of it. Fai, however, seemed to enjoy it, and having finished his first plateful, helped himself to a second.  Kurogane was somewhat relieved to see the mage had a good appetite, considering he had eaten only a breakfast of pastries earlier in the day. All four of them enjoyed the stew, which was savory and warm, and they dipped bread in their bowls to soak up the remaining broth.

Once they had eaten their fill, Fai suggested that Syaoran and Mokona go take their bath.  Syaoran wanted to help clear the table first, but Fai insisted that he and Kurogane could handle it and shooed the young man toward his room to get fresh clothes.  While he was gone, Mokona asked whether Fai and Kurogane wanted to join them as well. Since the two of them had just bathed before dinner, Fai promised instead that they would join the two of them another time.  Mokona accepted his answer. After thinking for a moment, she spat out a deck of playing cards. “So you don’t get bored while Mokona is gone,” she explained smiling up at them. Fai patted her head, thanking her for being so considerate.

When Syaoran had returned from his and Mokona’s room, Mokona hopped up onto the young man’s shoulder and the two of them proceeded toward the door.  “You’re sure you remember the way, creampuff?” Kurogane asked after them.

“Mokona remembers,” Mokona assured him.

“Have a nice bath, you two,” Fai said cheerily, waving goodbye as they exited the room.  The door closed, and Fai turned back toward the table. He tucked his long hair, now fully dry and shining, back behind his ear as he bent to pick up the dishes from the table.  Kurogane moved to assist him. “I can take care of it,” the wizard said, smiling softly. “You don’t need to help, Kuro-sama.”

“I know,” Kurogane said simply, continuing to stack plates anyway.  The two of them finished clearing the table, aside from the two glasses they were still drinking out of, and Fai pushed the cart off to the side.

Sitting back down, the mage took up the pack of playing cards Mokona had left them.  Opening the small cardboard box, he tipped the deck into his hand and began shuffling the laminated cards.  It was a deck of 52, divided into four suits. The companions had seen sets like these in several of the worlds they had visited and had learned to play a few different games with them.  It had been Fai’s idea that they buy a pack to keep with them. The mage liked to practice the art of shuffling cards, and he had gotten fairly good at it. Though, out of the four of them, Syaoran did it best.

Kurogane took a sip from his glass as Fai began to deal out the cards between the two of them.  Though the ninja did not much care for the Elvenking, he had to admit the elf had good taste in wine.  Though Kurogane was the only one of their group drinking it tonight. Fai had opted for water, and Kurogane had told Syaoran and Mokona that they should not drink alcohol before a hot bath.

Fai finished dealing, and Kurogane picked up his cards, fanning them out to look at them.  Fai flipped up the top card from the deck, indicating to Kurogane the game he had chosen. Kurogane laid down a card of the same suit on top of it.

Fai drew a card from the pile.  “Why is it,” he mused aloud, “that eight was chosen as the most insane of numbers?”

Kurogane shrugged.  “It’s just what they call the game.  Crazy eights. They count as wild.”

“I know that,” Fai admitted, laying one down atop the discard pile.  “But why eights? Spades, by the way,” he added, as Kurogane looked at him.

Kurogane took his turn, drawing and adding a card to his hand.  “Maybe it was the game inventor’s favorite number,” the ninja suggested.  “Or his least favorite. Or maybe he picked it for no reason at all. It’s your turn.”

“Everything has a reason, Kuro-sama,” Fai replied, laying down the two of spades.

“Maybe,” Kurogane admitted.  “But we don’t always get to know the reasons.”  He played the two of hearts over Fai’s card.

“Hmm.  I suppose you’re right,” Fai agreed, playing another heart over Kurogane’s.  Kurogane placed a matching number over the mage’s last discard, changing the suit to clubs.  Fai drew, unable to play. Kurogane frowned, being out of clubs and forced to draw again. He extended his hand to the deck and slipped off the top card.  It showed the king of diamonds, unhelpful in the game, and serving to remind the ninja of reasons Fai had been holding back from him.

“I can’t play,” Kurogane admitted.  Fai drew another card and managed to change the suit to spades.  Kurogane followed with a spade from his own hand. They continued back and forth until Fai was down to one card.  It was Kurogane’s turn. The four of diamonds lay atop the discard pile as the ninja debated between the two cards remaining in his hand: the ace and king of diamonds.  Finally, he laid down the ace.

Fai smiled at him gleefully as he tossed down his final card, the ace of spades.  “I win, Kuro-rin,” he cheered. “Want to play again?”

“Sure,” Kurogane answered.  He unobtrusively slipped his remaining card face down back onto the deck as Fai reached to gather the cards and reshuffle them.  The mage seemed content; now was not the time for Kurogane to ask about his meetings with the king. He would wait. Perhaps things would work themselves out.  Pushing his curiosity and concern aside for the time being, the ninja picked up and began sorting the new cards Fai dealt to him.

The two men played cards until Syaoran and Mokona returned from the bath.  Partway through, they switched games. Kurogane had wanted to play one of the more complex games they had learned involving runs and sets, but they had nothing to keep score on, and so settled for easier one-hand games.

“Go fish, Kuro-sama,” Fai commanded as the door to their apartment opened to reveal their other two companions.

“We’re back!” Mokona exclaimed, jumping from Syaoran’s shoulder into Fai’s arms and causing the wizard to drop his cards.

“I see that,” Fai said, setting the small white creature beside him on the couch and stooping to retrieve the fallen cards.  “Did you and Syaoran have a nice bath?”

“Mmhm,” Mokona nodded enthusiastically.  “Mokona and Syaoran went swimming in one of the really big baths.  And Mokona made sure Syaoran remembered to wash his hair,” she added proudly.

“That’s very good,” Fai replied to her.  As the two of them continued their conversation, Syaoran came to stand beside Kurogane.

“Kurogane,” the young man said, bending down slightly to speak softly into the ninja’s ear.  “May I talk to you in the other room for a moment?”

“Sure, kid,” Kurogane answered.  He glanced over to see that Fai and Mokona were still happily chatting together and stood up to follow Syaoran into the room he and Mokona shared.  “What’s wrong?” Kurogane asked as he closed the door behind them. He had seen the troubled look in the young man’s face.

Syaoran set down the set of clothes he had been carrying on the end of the bed before turning to face the ninja again.  “You remember what the king said to Fai the night we told the elves of our travels, about the dead returning to life?” the young man asked.

Kurogane frowned.  “You found something out, didn’t you?”  Syaoran nodded. “Well, is it true?” Kurogane asked.

Syaoran hesitated a moment.  “Yes,” he finally said. “But only in some cases.  I asked Saelan about it. Elves can return to life after being killed because it’s in their nature.  But it’s not the same for humans. There was one case,” he continued, “when a human came back to life.  His name was Beren. That’s who the poem was about – the one Saelan recited for Mokona and me. But it’s not something that could happen again.”

Kurogane was silent a moment, processing the information Syaoran had shared with him.  It was not what he had expected. In a way, it did not seem to comply with what they had learned during their travels.  But they had never encountered elves before. Perhaps they were the exception to the rule. As for this Beren, he may be only an unfounded myth, a hero from a fictional poem.  And even if he was real, as the kid had said – such a thing could not happen again. Humans who die cannot return to life. For all intents and purposes, that truth remained intact.

“I asked Mokona not to say anything to Fai about it. Not yet,” Syaoran said, drawing Kurogane back out of his thoughts.  The boy’s brows were knit with concern. “We have to tell him, but… You saw the look on his face when Thranduil mentioned the dead returning to life.  I just don’t know if…”

Kurogane laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “It’s all right, kid,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”  Syaoran looked up at him, still unsure. “You uncovered the truth.  You did good,” the ninja reassured him. “Don’t worry about it anymore.  I’ll tell Fai.”

Syaoran breathed a sigh.  “All right,” he agreed.

“Now,” Kurogane said, taking back his hand.  “Let’s get back to the others. I bet the creampuff wants to beat us all at cards again.”  Appearing reassured by Kurogane’s promise to handle the matter, Syaoran managed to smile again, and the two of them returned to the sitting room and sat down to cards.  Mokona did manage to beat them all in multiple rounds. It was a wonder how well she handled cards with her small paws. After a while, Syaoran and Mokona started yawning, and Kurogane decided it was time to send them to bed.  They bid each other good night and prepared for sleep.

Kurogane sat down on the end of his and Fai’s bed as he waited for the mage to return from the washroom.  He had made up his mind – he would tell Fai what Syaoran had discovered. There was no point in waiting. The sooner he told the wizard, the sooner they could all move past the matter, and things could return to the way they had been.  Fai walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

Kurogane took a breath.  “Fai, we need to talk,” he began.  The mage blinked at him, the look in his bright blue eyes flipping quickly from confusion to wariness.

“What is it, Kuro-sama?”  Fai feigned nonchalance.

Kurogane suppressed a sigh.  “Come sit down.” He indicated a spot next to him on the bed.  Fai walked over and sat down beside him.

“Well, what’s all this about?  You’re being very cryptic, Kuro-puu,” Fai said.  He spoke lightly, but Kurogane could sense a nervousness that the mage was trying to hide.

“It’s about something the king said,” Kurogane finally answered, “the night we told the elves our story, about the dead returning to life.”  The smile slipped off Fai’s face. The ninja continued. “Syaoran looked into.” He spoke gently. “It’s not true. Not for humans, at least.  It’s…”

“I know, Kuro-sama,” Fai cut him off.

“You know?” Kurogane repeated.

“I asked Thranduil myself,” the wizard admitted.

“And were you going to tell us?” Kurogane asked softly.  Fai sat silently, his head bowed. His long blond hair had fallen forward, partially obscuring his face.  The warrior immediately regretted asking that last question. Fai had not told them because he found it too painful to talk about.  “Fai, I’m sorry…” Kurogane reached out a hand to comfort him, but the mage shied away from his touch.

“It’s all right, Kuro-sama,” Fai replied, offering the other man a transparently false smile.  “After all, we already knew it couldn’t be true.” He stood, moving out of Kurogane’s reach.

Kurogane lowered his hand.  It was not all right. Kurogane knew Fai well enough to know that much.  Fai was suffering, though the mage refused to admit it. Instinct urged the ninja to draw Fai close, to hold him and soothe out the pain as best he could.  But Fai had pulled away again.

The wizard moved toward the door.  “Where are you going?” Kurogane asked quietly, rising from the bed.

“For a walk,” Fai answered him.  “I’m fine, Kuro, really. Get some sleep.  There’s no need to wait up for me.” Then he slipped out the door, closing it before Kurogane had a chance to say anything more.

The warrior stood alone in the room the two men shared.  He was tempted to go after the mage, but thought better of it.  If Fai did not want his comfort, Kurogane would not force it upon him.  The wizard wanted to be alone, and so he would respect that.

Kurogane sunk back down onto the end of the bed.  He had done all he could for now. But that knowledge did little to lift the uncomfortable weight that had settled into his stomach.  Fai had told him not to wait up, but Kurogane knew he would get no sleep until the mage returned. He busied himself changing into his nightshirt and turning down the bedsheets before settling down to wait.

Chapter Text

Fai walked briskly down the halls of the Woodland Realm’s palace.  The pain and sorrow he had felt yesterday were welling up again. He walked quickly, as though his feet could outrun it.  He should have known the subject would come up again. He was not the only one to hear what the king had said. The others would have been just as eager to know the answer as he had been.  But Fai was not emotionally prepared to deal with this again so soon. He knew Kurogane would have been patient with him, but Fai was not willing to burden the other man with his tears.

He needed something to distract him from his grief, from Kurogane, from all of it.  And so his feet carried him in the direction of the king’s quarters. Thranduil had told him to return when he was ready.  Fai was ready now.

The mage passed through the door to the king’s quarters and down the stairs into the antechamber.  He knocked on the door of the room he had been in earlier that day. A servant opened it, admitting him.  Thranduil sat upon the couch, attended by two other servants. He looked sharply at Fai as he entered.

“I thought I had instructed you to return tomorrow, wizard,” the king said, raising his eyebrows.

Fai wavered for a moment, unsure, but the sight of Thranduil brought back fresh the memory of that strange sensation of their interaction earlier in the day.  This was the distraction he needed.

“My lord, you know our time here is limited,” Fai answered the king.  “And you told me to return when I was ready. If it pleases your majesty, I would like to continue now.”

The Elvenking looked at him for a long moment.  Fai held the pale blue gaze with his own, not dropping his eyes.  Finally, Thranduil rose from the couch. “Very well,” he agreed. “Leave us,” he commanded the servants.  Walking around Fai, they filed out through the antechamber. The king followed, closing the door behind them.  He circled around Fai. The wizard held his ground.

“Are you certain you are prepared to do this again so soon,” the elf inquired.  “It will not aid us to wear you out.”

“My lord, if I were not ready, I would not have come,” Fai replied.  He watched as the king circled back around in front of him. The elf’s eyes betrayed the same hunger Fai had seen in them after he had first shared his magic.

“Then I shall trust you to know your limits,” Thranduil said.  “Come.”

The two seated themselves on the couch as they had earlier.  Fai closed his eyes, holding out his hands. Anticipation quickened his heartbeat.  The mage focused on taking deep, even breaths. Thranduil placed his hands over Fai’s, a tendril of his magic slipping into the wizard once again.  Though he had been expecting it this time, the invasive power still caused Fai to tense.

Thranduil found Fai’s magic more quickly now that he knew where to look.  Fai felt the king’s magic kneading within him as he coaxed Fai’s power out again.  This time, the king did not stop the flow once it started. Magic poured from Fai like blood from a wound, but without a pulse; it was steady, controlled.  The king syphoned it from the wizard, drawing it through the conduit of his own magic. The strange sensation Fai had experienced earlier overtook him again.  It was the innate panic of losing control coupled with the calm of letting it be lost, contrary and intoxicating. Fai felt his own hands trembling against the king’s even as he sought to hold them steady.

The magic passed like a shimmering stream, like flowing water, out and into the king.  Fai lost track of it after that. He dared not try to follow it further. His head was swimming.  How long they sat like that, Fai could not tell. Finally, the king brought the transfer to a halt.  He eased it off slowly, gently extricating himself when the flow had been stopped.

Fai’s eyes snapped open as he caught himself from falling forward against the king.  He leaned back against the couch, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Thranduil sat watching him.  Fai noticed that the elf too was breathing more heavily than normal. The strain of this process was not on the mage alone.  But the king recovered more quickly than Fai. Thranduil reached for a glass goblet of wine sitting on an end table. Bringing it to his lips, he sipped at it thoughtfully.

“Did it work?” Fai asked when he was again able to speak.  “Were… were you able to use my magic?” His voice sounded soft and short of breath.  Thranduil handed Fai the remainder of the glass of wine. The wizard drained it.

“I was,” Thranduil answered him.  “I used it to strengthen the barrier closest to the palace.”

“Then you will need more,” Fai responded, “for the other barriers.  Much more, if you are to extend them.” He sat up, setting the empty goblet down on the other end table.  It clinked as he placed it a bit harder than he had intended.

“Yes,” acknowledged the king.  “But no more this night.” Fai nodded in response.  He knew Thranduil was right to stop where he did. It would not do to push too far too quickly.  As much as he wanted to rush in increasing his magic, Fai recognized the wisdom of not overdoing it.  As the lightheadedness wore off, it was being replaced by weariness. Fai shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

“You should sleep,” the king stated.  “Do not return to me until you are fully recovered.  I do not know the rate at which your magic replenishes itself, and so I shall leave the frequency of these transferences to your discretion.”  He looked upon Fai, who was finally sitting up straight and breathing at a normal rate again. “Have caution,” the elf warned. “I will not be held responsible if you choose to push past your limits.”  Fai looked into the elf’s cold blue eyes and knew that this was likely the only warning he would get on the matter. The king would take his magic as often as Fai offered it. If the wizard became too eager, he would have only himself to blame for the consequences.

“Your terms are fair, my lord,” Fai replied.

“Good,” the Elvenking said with an air of finality.  “Now, do you require an escort to return you to your rooms?”

“No, I think I can manage,” the wizard responded.

“Very well.”  The king stood and walked to a side table to pour himself a fresh glass of wine.  “Take care, Fai Flourite,” he said, seeming to indicate that Fai could let himself out.  The mage stood up from the couch. His legs were only a little shaky. He could make it back to the apartment on his own.

“Good night, your majesty,” he said, offering a short bow, and headed toward the door.  Fai exited, reclosing the heavy wooden door behind him. The antechamber was deserted, and the mage paused there, leaning for a moment against a wall.  Now that he had left the king, Fai’s mind was drawn back to Kurogane and how he had walked out on the ninja as he was trying to talk to him. Fai hoped the other man would be asleep by the time he returned.  His encounter with the king had served its purpose – his grief no longer hovered so dangerously close to the surface, and he was one step closer to his goal. Now all Fai wished to do was sleep. He did not want to be drawn into any more conversations before that.  Thranduil had taken a substantial portion of magic from Fai’s body. Though it was small in comparison to the whole of the mage’s power, he still felt the lack of it. With weary steps, he headed back in the direction of his bed.

Fai quietly reentered the apartment he and the other travelers shared, easing the door shut so that it made no noise, and turning the lock slowly so that it sounded only a muffled click.  The mage picked his way around the furniture in the dim light and made his way to the doorway of his and Kurogane’s bedroom. There was no light coming from beneath the door. Carefully, Fai opened it just enough and slipped inside, pulling it silently closed behind him.  Fai slipped out of his shoes and the outer layer of his clothing, but did not bother with trying to find and don his nightshirt. Tiptoeing to his side of the bed, Fai climbed in, trying not to shake it.

The bed was comfortably warm beneath the covers.  Kurogane lay still on the other side. Fai knew that he was probably awake, but the warrior did not seem as though he was going to acknowledge Fai’s return.  The mage closed his eyes, drowsy and still a bit chilled from his magic transference with the Elvenking. Half-asleep, he found himself gravitating toward the nearest heat source.  He stopped himself before he got too close, pushing away the sleepy thought of curling up against Kurogane’s warm body. Instead, Fai wrapped his arms around his pillow and soon drifted into sleep.