Peredhil

Patrick, is that the series by Cook?

The wolf howls at moon The Tinkerer munches cheese It is a good night.

Happy happy HAPPY birthday wishes to Zoolio!

Peredhil was thrilled to see so many in the Pen. "Tzimfemme! I'm so glad you could show up. I've looked for Ozy, and sent messages but there's been no reply yet." He blinked around, counting, "Do Patrick, Jechum and Zool count as animal women? From the way you talk, it sounds like you're thinking I'm setting up a harem. My only interest in THAT direction, as ever, is my wife - but this one is living. "I do hope you'll feel welcome here, or if not, at least speak plainly as to why you'd protest a dead Pen being brought back into a form of life."

From under his pillows, Peredhil pulled small wooden figurines. They were all of her, in different poses. At first, they appeared primitive, almost savage. Broad strokes, harsh edges that could've been smoothed in a minute. But on closer inspection, that must've been deliberate, for they were carved with exquisite tiny details, such as texturing to indicate her striping patterns, individual whiskers so fine as to be almost invisible. There were three of them: one of her reclining; one of her with a sword, extended in a lunge; and one of her gazing pensively out a window - her paws resting on the "frame".

The thrill of writing Courses through my veins once more. I hope I don't suck.

The bond flared again, this time with incredulous delight and wonder, then within the second crashed into disappointment and anger. The bond immediately smoothed out to warm delight, glowing love, and the ever-present undercurrent of lust that Peredhil was obviously trying very hard to ignore. He was really all over the place by her coming back. All this by the time she'd finished pulling out the bottle and showing him the label. His smile never changed and his eye color didn't flicker. She couldn't let this one go. What if he was angry at her for such a stupid gift? Wine? He had bottles older than many civilizations. And if he was angry at himself, then she would not allow him to beat on himself. Not while she was around. "Since we shared our life force," she continued casually, putting the wine into his hands and starting to take things off in preparation for her bath, "the funniest thing happened." Inwardly, she could tell she had his full attention, and the bond carried the intensity of his desire for her. "Really? In what way?" He frowned in concern, and shifted the bottle to his far hand so he could begin tracing the patterns of her paw. The brush of his fingers sent tingles up her arm and raised goosebumps. He'd lowered his head to look at her paw, but she knew that he had a very wide peripheral vision. She took a tunic-stretching deep breath and let it out in a sigh before continuing. "Yes, it turns out that I have something totally new to me, a sense of what another feels inside." "Oh! Empathy! Our wed- sharing must've triggered it. I'd be thrilled to help you develop your gift." "It seems to be very strong, and getting stronger, but perhaps," she paused to lift her leg up high and slowly peel a boot from her hind-paw, "it is because it only works on one person - you." Peredhil's hand froze on her paw. The bond filled with so many emotions she couldn't sort them out, then flickered low, then high repeatedly, like a strobe light. He took a slow breath and let it ease out, and the bond settled into an odd loving terror. "That IS unusual. What happened here? This stripe is broader and has shifted." "I'll tell you later. Why were you angry at the wine?" "Wouldn't you be more comfortable discussing this after your bath? You must be tired." "No, I'm quite certain now is good. Anger? Wine?" He sighed ruefully and gave in with good grace. "I thought it was a gift at first, and then realized that I wanted it to be one so badly, I was projecting my desires onto you, quite rudely, and grew angry at myself. It's rude to paint another with my emotions, and distorts their reality. I owe you the respect of seeing you just as you are." Mynx blinked at him. "It... was a gift," she said carefully, trying not to get distracted by the continued fluctuations in the bond. "I just didn't want to make a big deal of it if you didn't like it, and I've never seen you go near a bottle without offering it to everyone within sight." She shrugged self-consciously. "I'm not very good at this whole gift-giving thing, you know." "I didn't know that. Me either, when it matters. And I do like it, and you, and I'm usually much more calm, and I'm babbling and shutting up now. Thank you. Thank you very much. I made some things for as well, while I was restricted. I... I hope they please you. They're not magical or expen-" He blinked as she laid a finger against his lips. "I'd like to see them, please."

Peredhil eyes Tanny warily. She was protesting her innocence far too much - and her tail was wagging in secret glee. So, a standard village. Prolly in the woods, has wolves in the area. I will be Abercrombie. I live on the downwind side of town. I run sheep and some goats, and have a couple of working dogs to help me with them. I also collect the chamber pots for the village, and put the contents into a large vat used for tanning leather, particularly from my sheep and goats, although I'll buy pelts and hides.

Fixed a couple of minor spelling and grammar errors. Wish I could read/write/speak a second language as well as you do! there's some very good stuff here. A good foundation for thought and change. Some of this is individual to you, some might extrapolate well to others. Either way, each one forms a question about how the universe works that is a good starting point for self-examination. Welcome to the Pen - feel free to join the Membership by posting in Recruiting. (Read the FAQ in the Wall of the Pen.)

He felt her leave, one moment a warm presence in his heart, then an absence. After a brief discussion of the proper use of ancient irreplaceable artifacts, (never,) he called in the rest of his little family, and began to solicit advice on how to conduct a courtship. "Mynx has agreed to let me court her, but I'm not certain what that involved. My last relationship was an arranged marriage. Anyone have any ideas?" "Sure t'ing Boss! Catnip, flea collar, a premium raw steak, and den sweep her off her paws and consummate! Can't fail!" "Thank you Guido," Peredhil said after a moment, into the stunned silence, "anyone else? Yes Nuncio?" "Genetically, females are an ovum's vehicle for passing on genes, just as a male is a vehicle for the sperm. Now, approaching things from that view - "Yes Boss?" "Let's stick a pin in that and come back to it later." He looked at his sons expectantly. "Let's wait to see if she even comes back," replied Elladan. "While she's gone and you're safely here, I've some unfinished business I'm going to finish." With a nod to his Dad, he strode from the room. "Well, Dad," Elrohir mused, "most cultures have rituals, but that doesn't really apply. We've left ours behind, and she's the only one of her kind, according to her. I've had success with a series of thoughtful gifts, tailored to my understanding of the person. Something meaningful to them. It doesn't have to big or expensive, but show that you appreciate them. But you've already reversed things by marrying her first, and courting her after." "Hmmm. Thank you. Speaking of gifts, are those genuine Elven Boots you gave her?" "Of course! I wanted to maximize the chances of her saving you!" "I know you've been using your pair as templates for those cheap knock-offs you've been selling at the Bizarre. Isn't that going to put a crimp in your plans?" "You know about that?!" He wilted a little under Peredhil's knowing smile. "Of course you do. It's not like -" "I'm not upset, 'Ro, the replicas are pretty good, and last about one-hundred years. For the prices you're setting, that's reasonable. Mynx?" "Oh - I have another pair still. It's just going to halve production. It's all a game anyway, so it's not a big deal. I think I'll pull a page from 'Dan's book and use this opportunity to take care of business. Will you be alright?" "Oh, absolutely! I still have my bodyguards." Peredhil smiled fondly at the giant guinea pigs. Guido swelled a bit and preened, and if fur could blush, Nuncio would glow.

Fluffy jellybean, found under the cushion, You still look good to me. Along with the furry breadcrumbs, toe nail clippings, and fallen chickpea. I will nom you, as I do everything, Because I am hongry. And throw up later, on tile not carpet, if you are not good for me. New line: Slow gray clouds

Elladan didn’t trust her. Well, he didn’t trust anyone except for his Dad, but Elrohir was close. Dad had his own inner darkness and understood him and loved him. Elrohir was his light to his dark and loved him, but would never understand. Unlike Dad, he embraced who and what he was. The orcs that destroyed his Mom, but left her body alive had taught him all he needed to know about love. It was a vulnerability to a hostile reality. In all the universes, he’d never met someone like his father, someone who had chosen to be good despite having all the strengths and abilities to do otherwise. He knew he’d never have been strong enough to choose to love over and over and over, no matter how badly he was hurt. He didn’t like pain in his body or mind. He’d spent a very long time learning the ins and outs of pain in others, but the more he learned, the more he decided he’d rather be the one who did the hurting. If a good person refused to defend himself, then he needed a very very bad person willing to do it for him. Elladan had decided even before he’d followed his Dad to the West, after Aragorn and his sister had both died, that when he came to Námo for judgment, he’d be able to point to his Dad as the only light in his darkness. In the darkness, it was cold, and lonely, but he worked very hard to ensure that he was the worst monster in it. Part of that was ensuring no one and nothing could get away with messing something that was yours. And no one was going to mess with his Dad’s heart and hurt it again. He’d get to that captor in time, but all he could’ve done is killed his father. Mynx could finish what his Mom in her madness had started. He wasn’t certain just what magic she was using, but that it was effectively reaching past all the careful barriers Peredhil had developed over the millennia was quite obvious. Couldn’t be sexual. Dad was as asexual as he was, though for different reasons. Sex was all about manipulation and control, a sometimes rather disgusting necessity as a means to an end. For Dad it was an embarrassment. Along with many of the High Elves, he felt that love was at its most pure when it didn’t involve the animal lusts. Additionally, he’d heard the lectures in his youth from his Mom, before her destruction, about how it was demeaning and rude to the woman. Either Peredhil felt the same way, or deep down inside, he recognized the truth just as Elladan knew it, but was in denial. So it wasn’t sexual, what was it? She had the beauty of a predator, which he could admire and respect. He knew that Peredhil cherished beauty in all things, but seeing people as art forms was a far cry from all the small things he was doing for Mynx, seeking to delight and make her smile. If it was a clerical thing, Elrohir would’ve been all over it. If it was magical, then it was more subtle and powerful than Peredhil’s defenses – and he refused to accept that. He’d wait and watch. And if necessary, she’d have a terrible accident. He’d cry with his Dad; shedding tears was as easy as showing any other emotion he faked, but a quick cut healed the most quickly. It was the least a monster could do for his father. *** Elrohir couldn't remember when he'd been happier. He'd prayed to any deity who'd listen, every place he'd ever been, for Dad to find heart's healing, and letting go of Mom was the first step. As long as you kept putting the knife back into the wound, it would never heal, but he felt that's what had been happening. He hoped that Peredhil would be able to hold onto the happy memories with Mom from before the Bad Time. Some of his happiest memories, before the Bad Time, were when he and Mom had wandered the Halls of Fire, listening to the songs. Elladan had always been off in some corner discussing weapons or tactics or the strengths and weaknesses of monsters, but he'd devoted his life to keeping Mom amused while Dad had been off fulfilling his duties. It was wonderful when Dad came home, he'd sit at his feet, helping 'Dan clean his weapons and gear, and listening as he reported on whatever had taken him away. Whether it was killing balrogs, hunting down werewolves, or a diplomatic mission, he loved how everyone, even the Powerful and Wise who'd left the West to come back, listened. There was never a doubt who was in charge, who was the most clever or farsighted. And when Dad would swing him up on his shoulders and stride down the halls, he'd beat his feet against his coat of mail in time to Dad's steps, and watch as people stepped aside with smiles and nods. Dad was smiling with his own joys now. His eyes weren't the color of ashes burned and wet with tears. He was living in the now, and even asking for things like a favorite food instead of having to be enticed to remember to eat. Whatever Mynx was doing, Elrohir would bless her to all the gods if she would just keep doing it. *** Nuncio lurked. Really, it was embarrassing in a way, a professional bodyguard to the most loved Boss ever. He didn't blame Guido for considering this a vacation. But he had standards, and he was a Bodyguard, so even though knew he wasn't needed, he hung around the recovery chambers. At first, he'd been as wary of Mynx as any other guinea pig around a tiger, but she seemed like a really good egg. He'd seen the Boss in action before, just being himself and melting people he met. He knew it was sincere, and not an act, but he had to wonder, after having met so many many people, how the Boss could be truly interested in each new one. He had a knack of making a person feel like he was the only person existing, and that the whole universe was better for their existence. Since Mynx had been hanging around the Pen Keep, he figured that she must've had some form of hero worship for the Boss, since many did, but if she did, she wasn't goofy about it. Actually, to his observations, it seemed that, contrary to all his experience in following Peredhil, she held all the cards at the moment. But what he really liked was that she wasn't using Peredhil, or setting him up for humiliation, but seemed to actually care for him almost as much as he, Nuncio, did. A really good egg. *** Guido sipped on another chilled drink, and chatted with the cute lemuira gals. Dey was a hoot, the rooster's new socks, and very eager to please. Since he loved having his fur groomed, it was working out well. Dis was da LIFE. Dat Mynx broad, she was keeping da Boss nicely distracted. Best rest in a long time. He wondered, if he slipped Toots a fin, if he could convince her to hang around once dey was all healed.

"Oooh! Fire!" The huge hoary hairy beast cowered back from the brandished brand. Was it being sarcastic? Could the bulge in its belly be Derrik?

For Mynx, the next few weeks passed in a blur of boredom and fascination. She quickly determined that if she was silent, Peredhil felt compelled to fill the silence. Out poured a babbling mixture of facts, histories, observations, and stories. Often he'd call in his sons and bodyguards to establish a point or help him remember a sequence. Quietly observing, she quickly formed her own impressions of all of them, but particularly Peredhil. He was an oddly shy, private Elf, keenly interested in others. His ability to look at a person and evaluate them, see their essence, and motivations, was incredibly accurate, but so natural he did it as easily as he breathed. He had an impartial, mentally decided love for others that didn’t blind him to their flaws and faults, as much as illuminate them to his gaze, at which point he simply accepted them without judgment. She found that he secretly believed that he was incredibly boring, and that he was so other-focused that quite often he forgot about himself. From the others she found that when Peredhil gave advice, he adjusted it to fit his model of the listener, and so thoroughly removed himself from the equation (so as not to distort things), that he actually didn’t listen to himself and usually had no recollection of what he’d said, only that it had been meant for the person. He was so persistently selfless that the other four made an odd cult of protecting him from himself. Definitely a cult of love, if that term could be applied to the coldly practical Elladan. She started to keep a journal which she'd scribble in furiously on occasion, often to his perplexity though he was far too Polite to ask what she was doing. From the rambling comments Peredhil let drop, she gained deep insights into his sons and bodyguards. He often disagreed with their choices or manner of doing things, but he took choice and free will so seriously as to let someone make poor choices until it killed them. If he had a religion, that was a foundation – give advice if solicited, but allow others to choose for themselves. And he was a very lonely person. His selflessness was the ultimate emotional shield; he reflected back others so perfectly, in a loving way, that it was extremely difficult to see beyond that. Once she realized that, her curiosity peaked and she began a determined pursuit of the person inside. Which wasn’t as easy as it might have seemed, given they were forced to be in proximity at all times. He was an extremely patient and genuinely interested listener, with keen insights and observations, and she found herself relating not just her adventures, or answering a “how did you get THAT scar” question, but relating the feelings she'd had, or the reasons why she'd acted as she'd done. In the dark of the night, it had become her habit to snuggle up tightly against his body. It scattered all his careful barriers to the winds. She suspected that he viewed his body as a necessary price to carry his mind, and her touch somehow forced him into physical awareness, and an embarrassed Peredhil was just adorable. His repression of sexuality was nearly absolute – he gave the most bone-melting massages possible – but he considered himself unattractive and refused to “force” his attentions on anyone. Which apparently included his wife. And yes, he did want her, it turned out, but was waiting on courtship so as not to “take advantage” of their enforced proximity. That his body responded to her despite any of his attempts to suppress it was a sure sign that when he said she was attractive, he meant it. Not that he'd lie... but it was nice to have reassurance. She'd asked him why he thought she was beautiful, at one point, and he'd gotten his thoughtful look, and beginning at her ears, explained every point of beauty (in his eyes), and how they related to the whole “package”. When he'd paused, then began in on describing the beauty of her mind, aura, and feelings, she'd had to cut him off. She'd felt too much like a tiger being dissected for a lecture. "Got it," she thought to herself, "he feels it, but he isn’t just saying it." It was one night, late in the night with him quietly petting and stroking her hair, that she’d told him about Skielah. He'd held her the rest of the night. But mixed with the endless talking on all subjects were moments of restless activity. At first it was her prowling in circles around the chambers, him trailing in amusement after her, gently holding her tail. She was recovering much faster than Peredhil, soon was doing stretches and exercises. Before the week was gone, she was sparring with shadows, with Peredhil as a second shadow, mirroring her advances and retreats so seamlessly she sometimes forgot he was there. Ever the teacher, Peredhil began having Elladan and Elrohir come in and “fight” in slow-motion, at counted numbers, to demonstrate strokes and counters that would fit her style. It was a casual comment of Elladan’s that informed her that, of the family, their father was still the best swordsman. Which led to all sorts of stories about his warrior youth, born in Gondolin, and the battles in which he'd participated. He used illusions to show the battlefields and tactics. It was in private that she learned that he still blamed himself for failing to convince Isildur to destroy Sauron’s ring. He forgave others easily, but himself, very rarely. She fit right in with the other four in teasing him mercilessly, which he always accepted with a smile and grace. She began to wonder if he even had a temper, until she saw it unleashed. It was Elladan, of course. He had inherited Peredhil’s ability for insights to people, but for him they were weaknesses for exploitation. And it was over her. Peredhil had warned the others, when he felt they were crossing the line between teasing and being rude, where she was concerned, a few times, but they’d been delivered with his usual mild requesting style. But when Elladan made a crude observation about whether she'd “gone into heat” on Peredhil, it wasn’t a mild response. Peredhil had stood in perfect silence, but all softness was gone. It was a stern Elf-Lord, with a flickering circlet of crackling power around his brow who commanded his son coldly, “You will not speak of my wife in that manner. Ever.” It felt as if all the air in the room had fled, and she was panting as the heat of his anger filled the room, even though she wasn’t the focus of his wrath. From the defiant look on his face, Elladan wasn’t impressed. There was a bright flash, and suddenly where Elladan had stood, there was a toad. “Take your brother somewhere to reflect on his ways,” Peredhil had directed, then turned and seemed to shrink into the Elf she knew. “I'm so very sorry you had to witness that. I do apologize; there is never an excuse for losing my temper. May I do anything for you?”

She wanted something! Quickly, Elrohir and Elladan were dispatched with strict orders. To avoid offending their hosts, they dined in their chamber. He'd had the boys pick up a variety of foods, Beef Wellington, scallops, sirloin cooked to different degrees, veal, and fried chicken, along with buttered garlic mashed potatoes and a stir-fry of vegetables. Once they'd honed in on her preferences, he could order more appropriately. The twins bore it all gracefully, although Elladan kept snickering and making snide remarks. If was utterly baffling to him that she refused to eat unless he matched her bite for bite. He was fine, it was her needs that mattered right now. Other than his sons and bodyguards, no one fussed over him. He was much more comfortable as the caretaker. Throughout dinner, he asked questions about her adventures away from the Pen Keep, seeking to know more about this woman in whose company he found himself. Later, when it came time for bed, they looked at each other warily. Peredhil finally arranged things so that they slept on different sides of the sheet, close enough to reach out for the other, but not touching. Being listless and exhausted didn't matter as much if the goal was sleep. Since he was an Elf, and not mortal, he didn't sleep as such, and spent a bit of time observing and trying to categorize why she was so beautiful to him. It suddenly occurred to him that if she were to wake with him staring at her, she might get the wrong impression. Laying on his back, he hummed ancient Elven tunes and began to wander the Paths of the Mind. He came back to himself with a jolt. A warm furry leg was thrown across his waist, an arm over his chest, and a head nestled against his neck, all vibrating with purrs. Suddenly, the sheet seemed very very thin. He was afraid to move. What if she woke and thought he was trying to molest her? Consummate the marriage? His traitoress body, which *should* have been too weak for this nonsense, wouldn't help his protestations of innocence. It was a *very* thin sheet. He took shallow breaths and finally discovered what mortal sleep was when he drifted off into unconsciousness. Mynx woke to a warm body spooning against her back, one hand circling lightly over and over on her hip, the other somehow managing to stroke her hair and rub her neck. All this despite a baritone snore. Either it was early morning and his bladder was full, or he genuinely did think her attractive. With a mischievous grin, she arched her back enough to free her tail, then ground back against him. Just how polite WAS Peredhil? She needed to know how far he intended to push this whole marriage thing now, while he was still relatively weak. She could tell to the second when he woke. One moment the snoring and cuddle, then next a strangled "excuse-me-I-am-so-sorry-I-did-not-mean-to-take-advantage-of-you-Ma'am!!!" as he sprang from bed with an agile inhuman grace - and immediately collapsed to the floor.

Getting Peredhil dressed was a bit tricky until Mynx wrapped her tail around either his ankle or wrist, whichever wasn't in use. The tailored suit hung on his emaciated frame like on clothing hangers. At least the socks and shoes fit. A thought hit her. "Just how long will it take for us to each have our own life-force again, anyway?" "Oh, should only be a week or two. I've always been a quick healer, and you're in great shape. Uh, I mean, yes, you look lovely, but you're a very healthy woman. Not that you're not feminine." He stammered to a stop and turned red. Elrohir had facepalmed and was bent double, shoulders shaking in restrained laughter. From one of the corridors, Elladan barked in laughter, then fell silent. Peredhil ignored them all. "Elladan, Elrohir, where are Guido and Nuncio?" "Elladan had them, Dad," came Elrohir's quick reply. "Alright, 'Dan. Take us to them. We need to rest." "Can I cheat, like you do?" Peredhil eyed him coolly. "Can you?" he retorted. It didn't take 'Dan long to answer that one. "On our way, Dad." Words ensued.

Peredhil managed to make himself stop babbling by biting on his finger. The last time he'd been this nervous was - He didn't REMEMBER the last time. He didn't get nervous. But those large silver eyes completely disengaged his thinking from his voice! He listened to himself say all the wrong things. Needed to get a grip, distance himself. Smooth. Controlled. He wondered where he'd left his sunglasses. Those always looked cool in the mirror. He glanced at her and decided perhaps he should put them on HER. Did she have to giggle everytime she looked at him!? "Oh cheese and crackers. I just noticed I'm naked. Did you notice I'm naked? I need to not be naked." He bit his finger again to stop babbling. "ELROHIR, GET ME SOME CLOTHING!" Still some ways off, Elrohir gave Elladan a penny. He nearly always won these petty little bets. "Why," Elrohir whined, "does he always yell for me?" "Because you all know I'd give him a cloak of Lothlorien? Remember Sam describing Frodo, buck-naked except a cloak? Funny image. Naked hobbit with furry feet." Shooting 'Dan a look of pure disgust, Elrohir hasted toward the wardrobe caves.

Elladan and Elrohir finished using the Toranga feathers to clean the cloaks. It had taken a while, but the longer they waited, the better as far as they were both concerned. After they carefully stored them back in the case, they started walking back to the entrance. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, 'Dan?" "Doubtful, but you should try. It's amusing." "This is huge! He's finally let go of Mom and is moving on with life. Just over 9,000 years." "I was wondering when he'd realize he's naked, his other marriage was arranged, and he is creator and Emperor of the 'Friend Zone'. This should be highly amusing to watch." "Barbarian." "Intellectual." The continued their unhurried amble, passing insults back and forth idly.

Hug! What? Whispers from off-stage. But... Hrrumph. Fight. Individuals or groups.

"Yeah, the Cook was fat enough for two people!" The joke broke the unease, and they settled into a comfortable silence. Until a deep snarling voice interjected, "Two people! I get it!" Standing deeper in the cave was a three-meter humanoid covered in shaggy white hair, laughing merrily through fangs.

His lips were already chapped; he was trying to breathe only through his nose. But the cold made his eyes water and nose run, which made his snot freeze a bit on each breath. It had warmed enough to snow last week, but plunged deeply again that night. He had no hat or cap, and his long shaggy hair just wasn’t enough. The bag was heavy enough he had to hold it tightly. He switched hands frequently just to let blood flow back to the chilled fingers huddled in his gloves. He was, of course, the only one on the street. Even the pimps couldn’t convince the whores to come out. There weren’t any cars with tinted windows prowling tonight anyway. No hot eyes with warm air gushing through a half-open window; he wondered if the marks realized the flock of whores huddling close to talk and tease were just trying to warm themselves on the furiously working heater. Why he had held onto this job, he wasn’t certain any more. Family tradition meant little when he was the last. He used to think he made a difference, was appreciated, but the rising cost of insurance meant he was just breaking even lately. He shook his head heavily in disgust at the memory of the last woman who had sued him. She’d told the judge she liked him and he’d given good quality work – but she wanted the free money and that’s what insurance was for, right? Well, that was stupid. Her and the head shaking – now his earlobes were sticking through his hair and he needed to set the bag on one of these stoops, arrange his hair over his ears again, and with his luck, they’d probably break off in his hands, too frozen to bleed. He picked his bag back up with a sigh. What kind of an idiot still made house-calls to deliver a baby anyway?

Rooted in the earth's blood, Watered by the sky's dew, I stretch my arms in joy; Greet the dawning of the new.

Just finished "Shifted" by Caitlyn Mitchell http://www.amazon.com/Caitlyn-E.-Mitchell/e/B00J2I5PKG/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 If, like me, you like well-developed characters that stay "true" to themselves in their actions, interactions, and growth, check this out. If, like me, you enjoy solid well-researched "world-building", check this out. Her grasp of the flora and fauna of 1860s England would've been fascinating enough to keep me reading, even if I hadn't liked the story. Amazing grasp of interesting detail, instead of detail just for the sake of padding words. If, like me, you enjoy intelligent use of Fae and magic, you definitely need to check this out. This is the story of the "Beauty and the Beast" the way it should've been done originally. But just because you know one of the inspirations, don't think you know it all...

Peredhil's eyes widened and he looked down at their clasped hand and paw. He'd completely forgotten. "Oh. Yes. that's right. Sons, I'll have this conversation with you. Later. You should put those cloaks away." Mynx managed to keep a straight face as she watched the flee. "May I show you around, or would you rather sit? I... um... I have something I should discuss with you." Mynx smiled weakly. "If this is about me getting you out of that place - well, causing enough trouble that we were able to get out together, I suppose - then there's nothing to discuss." She glanced around to make sure Elrohir wasn't within earshot. "The Pen Keep was a good place to be for a long time, and I know how much of that can be attributed to you. I'd have done what I could to help you for free." "Yes. Well, thank you. Actually, it is quite a different matter entirely, you have my gratitude, but I'll leave your deal to you and my son." He paused, and looked every where but Mynx. "I, yes. Indeed. As a matter of fact. You see. Nothing for it but to. Let me begin by apologizing." He glanced at Mynx, but saw only total bafflement. "Yes. You know we're sharing one life-force between us. We were both so wounded and stubborn, that we wouldn't let the other die. Thank you by the way. But, as an unexpected consequence, well. heh, this is actually quite funny in a way, you see. In the Elven way, I some what accidentally married you. But I have no expectations and I'll not pressure you!" He ran out of words and just looked at her hopefully.

It was a day for surprises, Elrohir mused. Dad finally let go of Mom. Dad ends up accidentally marrying his mercenary trying to unselfishly (not the surprise) save her life. Dad is able to Portal straight into the Vault without having to go on a multi-Planar scavenger hunt for all the Keys first. Which might be the worst. He was looking either to have more time to arrange a story with his brother, or, in the best of all worlds, die before having to explain. Elladan was slightly in shock. Dad CHEATED. He had a way into the Vault directly. Dad CHEATED?! When they'd set up the Vault they'd made certain there could be no direct route. He'd worked out the randomizing math for the Keys and been so pleased when he found it. CHEATED. Of course, he had an entire universal intelligence to help him, and he was Portal-savvy enough to have noticed that it had been the first step through, but still. CHEATED. Peredhil the Polite. He shook his head in disbelief. Of course, Dad would probably be cranky about the cloaks, but as long as he didn't kill them to make his point, the rest could be survived. CHEATED. Mynx had always tended to travel lightly, keeping enough to meet her needs and little more. However, confronted with the enormity of the Vault, she did grip Peredhil's hand more tightly. Near the door were large dumpsters containing coins of various precious metals and materials. Beyond that were crystal caverns of artifacts. It was the hoarder's dream of three bored Elves over ten thousand years. A dragon would probably orgasm just at the sight. "Elladan found this solitary moon orbiting around a rogue dwarf - it's currently between galaxies, which make the math tricky. He and Elrohir hollowed it and imported the atmosphere and the best of our collections and gave it to me as a present. If you see something you'd like, just ask. I need to discuss a small matter of ownership and manners with my sons..."