jenni_blog | original fic (Reply)

Title: FROM THE RUINS: Chapter Eight: Immortalia

Characters: Aramel, Havard, Geo, Teo

Rating: R

Upon awakening Aramel was surprised to see Havard sitting and watching him from a nearby chair. "Have you stayed here all night?" He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"No, I arrived only moments before you awoke," Havard replied. "My own rooms are but a few steps down the hall from yours."

"Can you tell me something, Havard?"

"I shall certainly try."

"What was the purpose in bringing my friends and I here to your land, if that was the purpose of the dolphins?"

"That is an easy question to answer," Havard replied. "I don't know. I suppose there was a purpose for you to have come here, but as for the others who were with you, I don't think it matters whether they are here or not."

"I don't understand." Aramel felt a chill run through his body. He realized that he did not know these people no matter how kind and comforting Havard was toward him, and that he did not know what the future held for him and his friends. He felt uneasy with this man who spoke and acted so strangely.

"Nor do I, Aramel, but you will discover the purpose in due time. Do you wish to have breakfast now?" The tall man in pale green stood up from his chair.

"No thank you, I am not hungry," Aramel looked past him to the door at the far end of the room and wondered what would happen if he tried to escape. So far he had been in Havard's company the entire time since he had been found by the tall man and the other one who looked like him. The slightly euphoric effects of the strange fruit he had eaten from the tree had worn off, the after-effects being feelings of loneliness and paranoia. He felt he was in a foreign, alien place. Alone he was to be sure, not knowing the whereabouts of his companions. He felt afraid and helpless. Staring back at Havard with a somber look in his eyes, he pleaded wordlessly with the tall man to reassure him in some way that everything was going to be all right.

Havard approached the bed, sat down and embraced Aramel, comforting him with hugs and soothing, gentle hands stroking his back. Aramel allowed himself to be hugged. In truth it made him feel somewhat better, but when Havard tried to kiss him he put his hands on Havard's chest and pushed him away.

"I don't understand you, Havard, and this compulsion of yours to make love with another man."

Havard sat back and regarded Aramel with his strange green eyes. "I want you to know you have a friend in me, a true and loyal friend. I am here for you whenever you need me. I will bring you some new clothes which have been made for you overnight while you slept. Once you are dressed I will take you on a journey around our city and you shall begin your instruction."

"Friendship does not include making love with me, another man," Aramel persisted.

Havard's exquisite face bore an expression of profound sadness. "In time you will understand people like me," he said softly. "I know you feel afraid right now, so let me tell you one more thing. I do not know why it is that you can understand our speech and why we can understand yours in return, but I believe it is one of the unique things about you that is part of the reason you were saved by the dolphins and brought here."

Aramel was still concerned but also very much interested in what Havard was telling him. The prospect of going on a journey and learning about this strange place lifted his spirits a bit.

Havard walked over to the sideboard and removed from it a tray laden with food. "Here is your breakfast tray," he offered. "It is my recommendation that you eat something before we go out. I shall leave you alone to have your breakfast, then I shall return to help dress you and do your hair."

When the tall man had left the room, Aramel ate some bread, eggs and tomatoes from his tray and downed a goblet of the fresh yellow juice. The golden liquid smelled and tasted glorious, as if sunshine could be contained within a glass. After he had eaten he felt much better, his earlier fears washed away.

Soon Havard returned, wearing a robe of golden cloth. He smiled brightly upon seeing that Aramel had eaten. Crossing to the huge window, he pulled back the curtains, securing them at each side, winding the sumptuous red cloth around two round gold plates fastened to the wall. He flung open the casements to allow the sun's morning rays to flood into the room. Turning to Aramel, he said, "If you are ready, we will get you dressed."

Havard crossed to the bed and pulled back the coverlet and sheets, exposing Aramel's naked body. Aramel felt nervous at this, but Havard placated him, aware of Aramel's trepidation toward his prior advances. "Do not worry. I will not touch you in any sexual way. I only want to show you how to dress yourself, since the way we do it here is much different from what you are used to. After this you may dress yourself every day unless you ask for my help."

The man was so kind and matter-of-fact that Aramel felt a bit guilty for feeling embarrassed. However, at the moment he was very much aware that he was erect, something that was wont to occur when he first rose in the morning. And he noticed with some discomfort that Havard was staring at it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you back to bed? It would appear that you might find me attractive after all."

Aramel hid his private parts with his hands. "I just need to relieve myself, if you don't mind. Can I go in there?" He removed one hand in order to point toward the bathroom.

"Yes, you may relieve yourself in the little room called a privy that is just inside the bathroom. You will see a door--"

Aramel made a dash for the bathroom and said little door. When he emerged, Havard was smiling in amusement. He indicated a set of clothing that he had laid out on the freshly-made bed.

"This is an undershirt," he told Aramel, holding up a plain white silk shirt with long sleeves and straight sides, with a deep slit in the front. "Pull this over your head, but please first remove that necklace of yours and do not worry. You can put it back on right away afterward."

Aramel felt a reluctance to take it off, but he reasoned that it would be right there to put on again and his reluctance was just him being silly and giving into paranoia again. He pulled the necklace off carefully and placed it on top of the table beside the bed. Then he turned to Havard who helped him into the white shirt, holding up the next item of clothing, a pair of soft grey leggings.

Havard opened his mouth to speak. Ni non ah fins ten aft aula ah sarafta, he said.

"What?" Aramel stared at him, stunned, not understanding a word that Havard had said. "What did you say?"

Puzzled, Havard stared back at him and Aramel could only hear foreign words emitting from his mouth again. His head was spinning and he did not know what to think. Why was he hearing a foreign language coming out of Havard's mouth when prior to this he had understood everything the man had said? He looked at Havard again, searching his face carefully, and deciding that perhaps it would be best if he did not speak again until he discovered why this had suddenly happened.

He took the leggings, pretending to follow Havard's instructions and slipped them on over his legs, which was not difficult to fathom since they did at times wear raw silk or cotton trousers on Rokimas. Then he pretended to listen carefully while Havard picked up a dark grey tunic that was to be worn over the silk undershirt. Last was a pair of soft grey boots that reached almost to Aramel's knees. Never having worn footwear before, Aramel found them strange and awkward, a bit heavy and uncomfortable on his feet. Lastly, he picked up his necklace from the nightstand and placed it back around his neck.

"Come to the dressing table and I will do your hair," Havard was saying.

Aramel caught his breath in a sharp gasp. The momentary lapse was over and he could understand the tall man again. "All right," he replied.

Havard did not seem to think anything was amiss, and clearly understood Aramel once more as well. In fact, he remarked, "That's better than the incoherent mumbling you were doing earlier."

Aramel cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Now sit here." Havard indicated a stool in front of the table, upon which sat a large mirror.

Aramel stared long at his reflection. While he had caught glimpses of himself sometimes in the ponds or streams at home, he had never seen himself in such detail, and he was fascinated. Before him was a dark-haired man with tanned brown skin, very dark eyes and a large mouth. Behind him Havard's face appeared in the mirror also. He noticed the contrast between them, Havard's face and head marginally larger, his hair a much lighter colour, his skin paler and eyes a light green, giving him a mystical look. His lips were of a rosebud shape, making him look very young.

"How old are you?" Aramel asked.

"I am two centuries," Havard replied with a smile.

"Centuries?"

"Our count of time may be different from yours. Counting and mathematics of other kinds will be part of your instruction. How old are you?"

"Twenty," Aramel replied.

"Centuries?" Havard asked.

"I don't know, perhaps. We call them 'years'."

The two men chatted about various things while Havard brushed and then braided Aramel's hair. While they talked Aramel made a few discoveries. How the palace and other buildings were fundamentally constructed, the purpose of the paths and roadways that led from one place to another in and out and through the city, and how various oils and other substances were extracted from plants and animals in order to make such items as soap, candles and fragrances. When they were finished, Havard told him, "Look at yourself. I think we have made a great improvement."

Aramel stood and let Havard adjust the mirror so he could see himself from head to toe. He liked what he saw. He was clean and finely dressed in grey and white. His dark brown, almost black hair, was pulled back in a braid held in place with a piece of grey ribbon. He grinned widely, thinking himself quite attractive.

"Come now. It is time to begin your lessons. We will tour the city first, then make a visit to the smithy where you will meet the blacksmith and the jewelsmith."

"I should like to find out how to make sil-ver," Aramel said, running his fingers over the bowl by the door as they went out.

Over the next several hours Havard showed Aramel around Valana, which was the city's name. They rode in a wagon drawn by a pair of the black and white horses. Havard explained how wheels worked. Aramel was glad that he did not have to walk because the boots made his feet hurt and he stumbled a lot. Havard had to support him while they walked through the corridors of the palace and down the stairs on their way to the wagon.

Aramel thought about Chase-lee and Amaranto and how they were faring. He hoped that they were being shown the same treatment he was experiencing. On their way through the streets Aramel noticed that there were very few people about. He gazed with wonder upon the paved roads and beautiful buildings. He marveled at how everything was put together, from the white, storied buildings to the many decorative ornaments, the lampposts and railings, and the wheels on the wagon. But he wondered about the lack of people. He found it not only strange but a bit unsettling.

"Where were you born?" he asked Havard.

"Born?" Havard seemed startled, dropping the horses' reins for a moment before quickly picking them up again.

"Did you grow up here? What was your childhood like?"

"I did grow up here," Havard replied. "I was bred to be a servant, to assist other people."

"Were you lonely?" Aramel asked. "There don't seem to be many people here."

"Not at all," Havard responded. "I was never lonely. My brother was with me and we did everything together."

"Where is he now?"

"I meant that in my memory he will always be with me."

Puzzled, Aramel asked, "Why are there not many people here?"

"I do not know. How many people should there be?" It was Havard's turn to look puzzled.

Aramel thought that Immortalia was a very strange land, but perhaps for the people here it was not at all strange that there would be very few people living on it.

Presently the wagon arrived at a long, low building on the outskirts of the city. "This is where we will find the blacksmith and jewelsmith," Havard announced, clicking his tongue and pulling on the reins to make the horses stop. He leapt out of the wagon and turn to assist Aramel who was having trouble getting his footing because of the boots, and eventually lifted him down onto the ground.

Aramel stood unsteadily on the pavement and looked around. He could see green fields stretching away far beyond the building to where he imagined the seashore would be. Perhaps Chase-lee and Amaranto were still there. He sighed.

"Can we go to visit the seashore tomorrow?"

"We cannot go there without special leave from the king," Havard said. "Come, let us go inside."

The two men entered the smithy, a long, low building with an open pavillion on one side, the floor of which was covered with straw. Deep inside was a forge where the blacksmith made various items out of metal. While Havard led the horses to nibble on the straw, the blacksmith taught a fascinated Aramel everything that he could absorb in his first lession about how metals were extracted from the ground and how certain things such as wheels, railings and nails were manufactured. The smith, whose name was Geo, was delighted that Aramel took a genuine interest in metalworking.

After that Aramel met the jewelsmith, a black-haired man who resembled Geo, and whose name was Teo, who showed him how to cut and bend the soft metal sheets of gold and silver into various shapes such as rings and bowls and how to buff their surfaces until they shone.

When they were finished for the day, Aramel thanked both Geo and Teo. "I have enjoyed every bit of my time here today."

"We were happy to have you as a student," both men told him. "We will see you again soon."

Once back in the wagon, Havard told him, "It is late. We should be getting back to the palace. Are you hungry?"

"Yes I am." There was a hitch in his voice as a sudden lump arose in his throat. Aramel suddenly felt like bursting into tears.

"What is it, Aramel?" Havard turned to him, an expression of concern on his face.

"I was remembering the conditions that caused us to leave Rokimas," the dark-haired man replied, his voice shaking. "It just blew apart. It burned fire from the top of the mountain, and pieces of the land broke away and flew into the sky. Liquid fire spewed from the mountain-top and some of it rolled down the slopes. Clouds of gas and dust blew over everything and fire kept falling out of the sky into the sea." He began to sob.

"Ah, then Rokimas was a volcano," Havard murmured.

"Volcano?"

"Yes, a fire-mountain. No wonder your land and its people were primitive. On such an island nothing would ever have a chance to develop. No large building would be able to stand for any meaningful length of time. Volcanos erupt every so often, regularly. Some only a few centuries apart, others for longer."

"You called it an 'island'. What is that?" Aramel asked.

"An island is a small area of land that floats on the water. It is surrounded completely by the sea."

"Are there any other islands besides Rokimas and this one?" Aramel asked.

"Yes, I believe there are," Havard said. "But each one floats in the sea, moving around, and none of the islands can come together. That you arrived here was something pre-ordained."

"I don't understand," Aramel looked up at Havard, tears in his eyes, but a look of wonder upon his face.

"Before you leave here there is more that you need to learn," Havard said. "Because of your intelligence and insight you should be able to pick up information quickly and be able to understand certain things much sooner than we first thought possible."

"What things?" Aramel asked, his wonder increasing.

"Complicated things," Havard replied. "Things for which you will need a background in certain kinds of knowledge. It is strange that you know our language, for instance. For those who do not know it, it must be learned and takes a very long time."

Aramel knew that he did not really understand the language. In the bedroom that morning he had had a lapse for a moment when his necklace was off and when he had put it back on again, his understanding of Havard's language had returned. Was it the necklace that somehow enabled this understanding? His hand crept up to touch it where it lay beneath his clothes. He felt alone and suddenly afraid again. Where were Chase-lee and Amaranto? They did not have the benefit of a necklace like his. Were they still alive? Was the stone he wore somehow special? And now that Rokimas might be gone, destroyed, was his the only stone in existence? What was its value and what would it be to these strange people of Immortalia?

His sudden, creeping fear combined with too many questions in his mind and lack of food since his hurried breakfast that morning caused Aramel to become light-headed. With a slight moan he slumped forward in the wagon and to Havard's horror, fell unconscious.