Pas De Deux Ch. 8 - The Battle Scene

This is longer than usual and I promise the next chapter will have the good fluff. Enjoy! Words - 1,577. Read here or on ao3.

The sun rose, and though it usually woke Remus up, he hadn’t slept. Time had slowed and he swore it would come to a stop at some point. 

But the day had finally arrived. Remus was finally going to see Sirius again. 

Remus rolled out of bed to get ready for his morning classes. He started to pull the covers straight on his bed, but he saw a glint of white in the sheets. It was the card with Sirius’s signature on it. He blushed slightly, realizing he had slept with it, and placed it securely in a box on his bedside table. The dance attire drawer in his dresser was a mess and he struggled to  find something, but settled on some lilac shorts and the shirt Sirius’s scent still lingered on.

He had an hour in between class and his date. He could make it home to change before he saw Sirius.

Double checking his bag and his clock, he rushed out the door, nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

—-

Sirius had slept fitfully. His joints ached from the cold and though he usually could sleep through anything, he awoke to a pigeon singing outside his open window.

His day was off to a poor start. But as he stretched, he looked over to his nightstand. The picture of Remus was still there, and the fire it lighted in Sirius’s chest was all he needed to get him up for the day.

The clock read 9:30. From what Remus had told him the night prior, Remus was in class. What Sirius wouldn’t give to be able to watch him. Remus was good, but something told Sirius that Remus was even better than what he had seen. It probably had something to do with the fact that Sirius secretly wanted to see Remus in shorts.

From beside him on the table, Sirius’s phone buzzed. A notification from James. 

“I had plans for today but they fell through. What are you doing this afternoon?” Sirius sighed. On one hand, he was looking forward to Remus; Specifically the things they could do alone. But James was basically his brother. 

“I have a date today. We’re supposed to go to the park, but you can come.”

Two minutes later, his phone buzzed. And buzzed again. And kept buzzing. From where he was at the counter getting more coffee, Sirius groaned. 

“A date??!!!”

“With who??”

“Is he cute? Or at least funny?? I’m not getting a brother-in-law who’s boring, Sirius.” Sirius’s heart swooped at the word “brother-in-law”. The thought of marrying Remus sent his heart speeding.

“Yes, he’s cute and funny. Do you remember the Nutcracker cast this year?” Both Sirius and James had gone that year, just on separate nights.

“Yeah, why?? Was he in it??”

“Do you remember the prince?” Sirius set his phone down and walked to put his dishes away. But he didn’t get far before he heard his phone ring. He laughed when he saw it was James, and answered.

“Sirius.” He sounded like he had just woken up by the rasp to his voice. 

“James.” 

“You. Are going on a date. With the man who played the prince.”

“Yes, James.”

“A man who dances with one of the most famous ballet companies?”

“His name is Remus.” Sirius felt like he was in a dream. It finally hit him that he was dating one of the best ballet dancers in the country.

“How long have you been dating?” James asked, and Sirius could tell he really wanted to know.

“I asked him out after the show which was… a week ago? Well, when I say it like that it feels like not that long ago.” 

James was quiet on the other side, and Sirius realized he was waiting for him to keep talking.

“It feels like I’ve known him for so long, James. Like we talk and it’s so natural. I want to spend every waking hour with him. I want to wake up to him and fall asleep next to him and I want to make him breakfast and take him on walks and learn everything about him. And I’m worried if I tell him I’ll scare him away. It’s been a week and I feel like this. James, I have no idea what to do.”

James pulls in a breath over the line.

“Christmas is coming up, yeah? You’ll be away from each other for, what, a week? You’ll know by then and I’m sure he will too.” Sirius knew he was right, and relaxed back into his chair.

“You’re right.”

“‘Course I am.” Sirius’s scoff made James laugh.

“I love you, Sirius.”

“I love you too, James.”

“Oh, and Sirius?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m coming to meet this boy today.”

“Ok, James. Three o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

Sirius put the phone down and sank back in his chair. The smile on his face hurt. It was ten o’clock and Sirius decided to take a shower.

He knew that half of his shower time would involve staring at the hickey on his neck, but he still headed for the bathroom. 

The hot water soothed his joints and warmed his core. He pulled the tangles out of his long hair, scrubbed his skin pink. Closing his eyes, he saw Remus. 

Remus, spread out and glowing, beneath his hands. 

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius stepped out of the shower, grateful nobody heard him cry out Remus’s name as he came.

—-

From the window just next to him at the wall barre, Remus watched the sun rise in the sky. Just three more hours, and one of those hours was lunch. Then he’d see Sirius again. 

As the class went on, Remus found it harder to pay attention to the teacher. It didn’t help that the teacher’s voice could put anyone to sleep. 

The clock on the wall read 11:55. Grande allegro to finish (which was his favorite). The teacher dismissed them and Remus walked over to thank Lily, the pianist.

He rested his elbows on the piano and watched her pack her stuff. She looked over her shoulder, pushing her long red hair out of her face, and smiled.

“Anything planned for after dance?” She asked. 

“I’ve got a date, actually,” Remus said, groaning inwardly at drawing attention to himself. Lily stood up and looked at him.

“What?”

“You’ve got a date?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you known this man?” Remus shrunk a little under her frighteningly maternal gaze.

“Um. A week? Which doesn’t sound like long, but-“ He sighed, “I really like him.”

“That’s good, Remus,” Lily said sweetly. 

“Enough about me. If I don’t eat in the next ten minutes I am going to get snappy.” Lily laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“Of course you are, Remus.” They linked arms and walked out of the studio.

Twenty minutes later, the threat of Remus getting snappy was gone. He sat across from Lily at a small table overlooking the city. They ate in silence until Remus’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Sirius.

“So one of my friends decided he’s coming with us to the park. I’m so sorry but I’ll get rid of him after and make it up to you.” 

Remus blushed dark red. 

“Remus? Are you okay?”

“How do you feel about coming to the park with me today?”

—-

Sirius was antsy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sit for longer than five minutes. His excuses to get up and walk around became more and more random after every minute.

It was 1:45 and he was sure he’d die.

That was when he had an idea.

—-

When the teacher dismissed them from their final class, Remus all but ran to his stuff. After nearly losing his balance when putting his pants on, he ran down the ten flights of stairs and burst out onto the sidewalk. He turned to walk home but he heard a familiar voice call his name and he blushed out of embarrassment.

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” He asked as the man appeared next to him.

“Should I not be?” Sirius sounded uncertain.

“I’m glad you’re here, don’t get me wrong.” Remus replied, lifting his chin to look at Sirius. “I just kind of look like this.” He gestured to his mismatched clothes.

“Well, can I walk you home?” 

“Of course.”

Remus’s heart gave a weak flutter as their fingers intertwined. After waiting, they were finally back together. 

They got back to Remus’s apartment, which was cold. Without even going into his bedroom, he peeled off his sweatpants and the heavy sweatshirt he had on. Using his t-shirt, he wiped some of the sweat off his face.

“So that’s what you wear.”

Remus froze and looked down. In the moment, he had forgotten that he had stripped down to skin tight shorts and Sirius’s shirt. In front of Sirius.

They locked eye contact for a second, before Sirius’s grey eyes tracked slowly down Remus’s body.

Two days of waiting burst out of Remus and he surged forward, pushing Sirius backwards over the couch arm and landing on top of him. 

“You don’t mind me wearing your shirt, do you?” Remus asked, hands on either side of Sirius’s head.

“That’s your shirt.”

“It smells like you.” 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. Remus laughed and did what Sirius had asked.

Chapter Seven Here!

Chapter Nine Here!

COUNT CLAUS

It was decades ago when I was ten And it was a time for good will towards men It was Christmas time, the cream of the crop Time for lighting contests, dressing up pine trees and grown ups to shop For the year's most popular of knick knacks and toys For their angelic little girls and mischievous little boys There was Toby the Teddy that talked and did hand stands 

A rubber action figure, Sam Stretch that stretches and expands 

There was Miss Penelope Perfect with a make up set and brush 

A giant mutant lizard monster that spit up slime and mush 

And a Baby Poops Too Much for little cousin Jane 

For dear Johnny, a noisy remote control flying saucer sure to drive mom and dad insane 

And what did I want that year, I wasn't quite certain Perhaps some dinosaur mittens or a cowboy curtain But there was one thing set in the stone I would be up all night Christmas Eve, curious and alone To get a glimpse of the big man in red With the big fuzzy cloud beard upon his huge round head I would watch him put the presents under the tree And laugh and smile with utmost glee He would eat every cookie and drink all the milk And put on his black gloves made of smooth silk And then with a finger nicely placed aside his nose He would stand upright on all ten toes And up the chimney he would fly like smoke He's in pretty good shape for an old folk

I couldn't wait, to get a glimpse of Santa Claus And all I had to do was listen closely for reindeer paws

So, as you would imagine, it was the night before Christmas when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, except for my pet mouse 

The stockings all hung by the fireplace with care There was a holiday snow globe and a festively dressed teddy bear And I on the couch with my jammies and cap Was drinking lots of coffee to make sure I wouldn't take a nap When out in the front yard, there arose such a clatter I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter Away to the front door I flew like the Flash Whipped it right open and looked past the trash The fog was hovering over the hard, frozen snow And there was no lustre of midday from the moon to show When what to my anxious eyes did appear But a weird looking sleigh and nine, fanged bats instead of reindeer With a caped, terrifying driver so UNDEAD and sick I wondered to myself, WAS THIS REALLY SAINT NICK? 

More rapid than werewolves his monsters they came And he hissed and shouted and called them by name Now Ripper Now Dripper Now Sucker and Spewer On Killer On Crippler On Stoker and Skewer To the top of the house, to the top of the wall Now flap away flap away flap away all And when the coursers landed on the roof The dreaded vampire Claus transformed into a bat with one single POOF As I shut the door and hid behind the armchair Down the chimney St. Nicholas flew, ashes flying into the air He turned back into a human with red eyes and sharp teeth And he had a candy walking cane and a large collar instead of a wreath  

His cape how it fluttered, his glare how scary He seemed to hover around which made me quite wary His sharp fangs dripped gooey blood onto his belly It looked as if he just consumed somebody’s brain jelly He was spooky and plump, a right wicked old elf And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself A blink of his glowing eyes and a 360 spin of his head Soon gave me a feeling of terror and tremendous dread He spoke not a word and went straight to his work And filled all the stockings, the big blood sucking jerk And laying his finger aside of his nose He turned back into a bat and up the chimney he rose

He flew to his sleigh, to his bats gave a whistle And away they all flew like a nuclear missile And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight Merry Christmas to all, and to All a Good Night!

And I said to myself, was I hearing that right?

How could such a terrible monster make people giddy He should be out scaring trick or treaters on Halloween, he’s ghastly and gritty He’s nothing like the Santa Claus I always dreamed In his sight, people probably hid under their beds and screamed So in those hours after Dracula Claus had gone I devised a plan well into dawn I would wait until next year, when the present delivery would start And when he comes back, I would stake Count Claus straight in the heart

Yet again, it was the night before Christmas when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, except for the pet mouse There were no stockings, no snow globe, no Christmas tree by the chair I anxiously waited until Count Claus was there And when he arrived, I flew to the fireplace And prepared to strike Count Claus square in the face He flapped down the chimney, a bat yet again And I readied my sharp, limited edition silver pen When to my surprise, Count Claus transformed into a beast And looked at me like I would be his midnight Christmas feast He had several eyes and claws like a crab And he waved his tentacles around me like he was ready to grab

I cried and I shrieked like a big, slobbering baby Until I heard a soft voice, like a small bird in a tree Count Claus was back to normal and he wasn’t as scary His fanged mouth formed a smile and he put his arm around me He said, Dear little Toddy McFaggletrodder, I mean you no harm I know I look like I would bite off your arm I know I look like I came straight from the grave But I’m actually that kindly Claus you’ve always known, the one all people rave I’m just a vampire, forced to come out at night For if I came out during the day, I would crumble to dust in the bright light That’s why I stay up high at the North Pole It’s pitch black and dark as coal To protect me until Christmas comes again So I can continue to spread good cheer among God’s great men

And with those words, I was no longer afraid Count Claus would surely be something I would no longer evade And as Claus put his presents upon the floor He asked me if I’d like to go on a little tour He would take me along on his long winter trip And I would ride on his grand bat pulled ship I couldn’t wait, it was like the Christmas specials on TV I wondered and wondered about all the fantastic things I would see And we flew away, all around the world The sleigh was like a roller coaster that looped and swirled We visited house after house, through the thick winter sauce And surprisingly, Count Claus didn’t flee at the sight of a cross He feared no garlic, no grains of rice No bibles, no holy water, no wolfsbane spice He gave the children their presents, his ultimate goal And when he was finished, he took me to the North Pole Because it was pitch black, it was hard to see But the glowing nose of Rudolph the Bat led the way for me

And we entered Count Claus’ grand toy making castle Without any hustle, bustle or hassle

And again, what did my wondering eyes should appear But thousands of strange looking elves with one single eye, so clear They still had pointy ears and tiny Christmas hats They were busy making toy soldiers and silver baseball bats And their voices, how high pitched, how squeaky, how merry Their yellow ears so flappy, their toes so hairy

Then Count Claus showed me all his machines The Great Toy Spaceship-O-Matic, a thingamajig that made tambourines A gingerbread house maker, a firetruck snapper A Susie doll head plopper, a frisbee clapper There was a gizmo that made multi colored toy snails And a conveyer belt that made toy chainsaws, hatchets and nails Last but not least was the great Wind-Up Toy constructor And an elf named Morty was the controller, the conductor There were wind up toys of elephants, kangaroos and soldiers There were even wind up cowboy boots and cup holders I saw a guy in a car, a juggling clown, an alien invader Why, there was even a wind up kung fu alligator

We met some of Claus’ comrades, Credence was first He was a critter with a Christmas ball head and drank cocoa to quench his thirst

A gingerbread giant that almost hit the ceiling

The Insectoid Candlehead, dripping hot wax and squealing 

And like a haunted house at Halloween There was even a floating present poltergeist, a bright red and green

The North Pole’s first line of defense, a battalion of nutcrackers                         

They stood prominently and were led by General McKlackors!

Outside on the white, slushy snow so delicious Was a talking snowman the elves called Aloysius 

He told me a story about the fateful Christmas Eve When the presents were stolen by a furry green fellow, I couldn’t believe He told me a skeleton kidnapped Santa one night And trapped him in a crypt where he received that fateful vampire bite As the tour continued, I bid Aloysius goodbye He had a warm heart for such a frosty guy And with a bit of magic, Santa gave life to his long walking cane He was tall with a mustache and was named Cain

Cain Charine was the Count’s most prized assistant When he checked Claus’ naughty and nice list, he was quite persistent He had a bit of an accent and kept all the elves in line He knew just what toy making duty to assign He got up and waved his long rubbery arms And tried to amuse me with his humorous charms And after awhile, Claus turned him back into his walking stick I’m sure if Count Claus ate him, he would become very sick

Then we went back outside, walked towards a forest, so bright Was the forest on fire, I feared, not quite It was a beautiful, stunning moment to cease When we saw the entire forest full of glowing Christmas trees The lights were so bright I thought I’d go blind And the reds, the blues, the greens, so defined They glimmered and glistened like burning night stars And the stars on top glowed like headlights on cars It was like a grand Christmas dream, it would never be forgotten But little did I know something would come along, something very, very rotten When we least expected it, it hit us like a knife When one of the glowing trees suddenly came to LIFE

It was an alien from a gleaming Christmas star Bringing terror and tyranny from afar He had 5 eyes, more than a spider And long, tendril arms and a prickly trunk, much wider

He was ready to pounce and devour us like cookies But we would defeat him, we were brave rookies He chased us, far up the snowy mountain Far past the fruitcake valley and down the eggnog fountain He chased us down the slope of drippy chocolate balls And into the great, sticky rock candy halls Count Claus whipped out some tinsel and a large red sack And tied the creature up, than I covered him up and pushed him on his back We drug him back to the castle and put him in the freezer He was frosty, a frozen tree, cold hearted like Ebenezer And we put him right in the middle of the hall So all the elves and critters could admire him, they could all have a ball It was an odd Christmas, like one I never had And now that I am old, I tell this story to you my lad In hopes that you will one day have a similar adventure to endure Because, right now, at this moment, Count Claus is at the door Have a good time, say hello to the elves To the magical toys upon the shelves And beware strange aliens disguised as Christmas trees For they might devour you like strings of cheese It’s Christmas time, a time for excitement, over and under And who said vampires can’t spread cheer and wonder 

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM DERRICK ZURN’S MOON OF TOONS! 

65 Questions You Aren't Used To

(I know, it’s an ask meme, but... I just kinda want to do them all.  I LOVE this kinda stuff, it’s like writing a nifty journal entry for people that suck at journals, like me.)

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?  Um, no... they’re right there.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?  1.  I’m very comfortable in the dark.

3. The person you would never want to meet?  Donald Trump was the first to spring to mind.

4. What is your favorite word?  Popcorn.  (Because it visually appeals to me, and it feels nice to say.  I know, that made literally zero sense.  I know.)

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?  I always fancied myself a weeping willow, but there is literally nothing willowy about me.  Ooh, ooh, can I be a fruitless pear tree?!  They turn every color from yellow to purple in autumn and they’re so pretty!

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?  Probably something like, “Ew,” or “I need to shower,”.

7. What shirt are you wearing?  It’s cute!  It’s a gray tunic with a deep V in the front with lacing, and the words, “I’d Rather Not.”

8. What do you label yourself as?  Writer.

9. Bright room or dark room?  Bright when I’m working, dim when things are winding down, dark as sin when sleeping.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?  Same thing I’m doing now, screwing around on Tumblr when I should be finishing up and going to bed.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? 17 was a good year for me, I found the other half of my heart.  Everything before and after was basically a crap shoot.

12. Who told you they loved you last?  My daughters.

13. Your worst enemy?  Probably myself.

14. What is your current desktop picture?  It’s doing a slideshow through my saved file of New Years pictures.

15. Do you like someone?  Romantically, just my hubby.  He’s awfully cute.

16. The last song you listened to?  Listening to “U and Ur Hand” by P!nk right now.

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?  No one wants me to have this responsibility.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? I could prepare a list...

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?  Oh geez, I have no idea.  Who wants to be my slave and clean my house?

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)  My eyes!  I have pretty eyes.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?  I’ve got no idea what I’d look like, I’ve got too much boob and hip going on.  I’ll be honest, I’d have to have at least one orgasm, because I’ve always wondered what the difference is.  

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?  Secret?  Not really, I’m pretty open with all my talents.  

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?  Family members dying.  I’ve never had a close family member die, and I’m like... ridiculously afraid of that (especially my husband and kids), especially since I’m deeply religious.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.  The #11 at Jimmy Johns, plus bacon.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?  Probably on something stupid.  Discount Christmas shirts (I only have one), stuff on my wish.com list and Amazon list, that kind of thing.  Takeout from Arby’s.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?  Europe!

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?  Um... yeah, I don’t drink so... maybe the rarest, most expensive liquor known to man.  I’ll sell it and be rich.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?  No littering.

29. What is your favorite expletive?  I can’t say, I’m trying to quit.  (And it’s a bad one.)  If we’re doing PG rated expletives, I’ve taken to using “son of a nutcracker” and “oh my honk” pretty frequently...

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?  LAPTOP.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?  I know what it is.  But I’m not telling all y’all because it’s horrifically embarrassing.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!  SCOTLAND.  It only gets, like, into the 70′s there in the summer.  I can dig that.  I’m a freaking polar bear.  (Do I get to pick the celebrities I get to fictionally sleep with, because I’ve prepared a list...)

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?  Like, for a visit, or for permanent?  Because that’s different.  If it was for a visit, I’d bring back one of my two grandparents that have died.  I have QUESTIONS.  If it was for permanent... if an early term, miscarried baby counts, I’d bring back mine.

34. What was your last dream about?  I only get dreams when I’m in that weird “not 100% sleep” state, and man are they bizarre.... and I rarely remember them, but you can trust me that it was weird.

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?  Yes.  Yes I am.  Exceptionally.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?  Several times, yeah.  Most of them for baby things.  (I had the baby, I was not the baby.)

37. Have you ever built a snowman?  Oh yes.  Not yet this year though, not a really awesome snowfall yet, just a few inches.

38. What is the color of your socks?  I’m wearing neon pink and navy blue Black Widow socks that I got from my hubby for Christmas!

39. What type of music do you like?  Most of it.  Seriously.  Country, rock, pop, oldies, alternative, instrumental, show tunes, classical, movie scores, Disney, Celtic and Irish.... seriously.  Most of it.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?  Sunsets, sunrises are full of tiredness.

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?  Depends on my mood, really.

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)  I... don’t.  I’m not a sports person unless the Olympics are involved.

43. Do you have any scars?  Lots, yeah.  Biggest is my c-section scar(s), my favorite is the one on my middle finger from when I sliced it open trying to set up a trampoline.  Pro tip, wear gloves, because those springs can slice your finger open when pulled back and loosed.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?  I’ve already graduated (high school, never went to college and I don’t regret it), I wanted to be married and happy.  I’ve mostly succeeded.  Still chasing happiness, but I get the golden moments enough that I can call it successful.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?  Probably body size, mostly because they don’t have a lot of cute clothes in my size and I have no power to change that sad standard.

46. Are you reliable?  Almost 100%, yes.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?  How does Infinity War and Avengers 4 end?

48. Do you hold grudges?  Big ones, yes.  Little ones, not so much.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?  Panda peacock.  Because a cute, cuddly panda with peacock colors?  Best.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?  Someone trying to goad me into participating in one of their infantilization fantasies that made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

51. Are you a good liar?  I’m an excellent liar.  I shouldn’t be proud of that.  I am.

52. How long could you go without talking?  Does talking to myself count, because I do that a lot...

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?  The awkward between-phase after I did a shoulder-length bob and needed to grow it out again after my perm started to lose strength too.  Poof.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?  Tons of times.  I made my own birthday cake this year.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?  I do a pretty decent British (a few dialects), I can pull of Australian, Irish, Scottish, New Zealand, French, and occasionally Russian or German, as long as I get a good audio clip first to jump off of.

56. What do you like on your toast?  Butter, or butter with jam/jelly or cinnamon sugar.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?  A terrible sketch of Marty the zebra from Madagascar for my three year old.

58. What would be you dream car?  A big honking pick-up truck with the full backseat and excellent gas mileage and fuel efficiency.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.  Okay, the way that is worded is hilarious.  I do sing sometimes, when I’ve got music going, but I am pretty quiet since neighbors.  I don’t usually do anything unusual, except sticking my loose hairs to the wall so I can wad them up and throw it all away rather than it going down the drain and clogging it.

60. Do you believe in aliens?  Not in the traditional sense, but I know we’re not alone.  It’s based in religion.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?  Rarely.  When it pops up in magazines from last year or whatever.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?  M, probably, for my name.  And, fun trivia, M is the 13th letter of the alphabet, which puts it smack in the middle.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?  DRAGONS.  I’d have a dragon as a pet if I could.  Hagrid and Charlie Weasley would be over all the time.

64. What do you think about babies?  They’re cuuuute.  Most of the time.  Mine were cutest.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.  If anyone thinks of something, do ask me.  I seriously love this stuff!

Folie a Deux, pt 6

thanks as always to @okaynextcrisis for the prompt and @cassiopeiasara and @wearecylons for the input.

Two weeks and several panicked late-night calls to Bill later, she was finally feeling something that resembled comfortable in her new job. She’d called him after she finished the first rehearsal for Spanish, terrified that she wasn’t up to the job.

“Did they quit?” he asked.

No, but she almost did, halfway through the rehearsal when the word for penche completely escaped her brain. She couldn’t remember the French terminology that had been drilled into her head since she was five years old; how could she expect to lead a rehearsal?

He reassured her that she was doing fine, that if there were a problem, Jack would definitely toss her out on her ass the next day. It shouldn’t have been comforting, the promise that she could be fired in an instant, but it was.

She made it through the second Spanish rehearsal without incident and called him to thank him for being the voice of reason. Imagine that, Bill Adama being the voice of reason, after all these years.

“It’s like riding a bike,” he’d said. “Some things you don’t forget.”

She was pretty sure that if she got on a bike right now, she’d fall flat on her ass, but she didn’t argue the point. She was just happy to talk to him, to share every minute detail of her rehearsal, to ask his advice and let him praise her in return. Some things you don’t forget.

She wished she’d forgotten how good he was at making her feel better. She wished she’d forgotten how the sound of his voice at the end of a long day made her sigh with relief.

Years ago, she’d been afraid to lean on him, to ask him for advice, because she was afraid he’d think her weak. Now, he was the person she wanted to tell her that she was doing the right thing. She hated giving up that much control to him, but she had to admit...she trusted him to tell her if she was screwing it up completely. Bill had never let her down easy, as much as she’d wanted him to 11 years ago. If she was making a mess out of the show, he’d tell her, in no uncertain terms.

He talked her through the doubts that she was capable of handling a strict rehearsal schedule. He made detailed notes on the variations she was teaching, and he told her to suck it up and act like an adult when she threatened to quit because it was just so hard to be back in the studio.

It was hard, but it was also the easiest thing she’d ever done. She felt like a fraud teaching yoga, but cleaning up a variation for the Nutcracker...it was what she was born to do. The choreography lived in her body, as much as she tried to push it away, and her complaints about it being hard rang hollow in her ears during those late night phone calls..

“Suck it up and be an adult,” he said. 35 years old, and she was still struggling to be an adult. Still trying to find her place in the world, while calling her ex at midnight and begging him to make her feel better. Jesus, she was pathetic.

Be an adult. It seemed like rational advice when she was tucked in her bed and threatening to stay there until January, but less so when she was knee-deep in kids, trying to wrangle a bunch of hyperactive 8-year-olds into hitting their marks for the godforsaken Mother Ginger variation she swore she wouldn't rehearse.

“Don’t let them see you sweat,” he’d said. She wasn’t so much sweating as she was on the verge of killing someone. Preferably Bill Adama, but Jack Cottle would do just as well, and a couple of these kids were also looking like damn fine candidates for her wrath.

She hated everything about this piece - the music, the kitsch, the costumes, the choreography. Mostly, she hated that she’d always been forced to play one of the boys because she was one of the few children in her classes who wouldn’t complain about the role she was given.

Bill gave her a wave as he snuck out of the studio, and she fought to keep from cursing him under her breath. She’d agreed to it, because 20-plus years later, she was still taking her assignments without complaining.

Well, without complaining much. She’d dug in her heels over this stupid rehearsal, right until Bill told her that he needed someone to cover it because he had to be home to meet his ex-wife when she dropped off his boys for the weekend.

She could suck it up for two hours, if it meant Bill got to spend that time with his children. He had Jack covering his rehearsals for the weekend, and even Karl had stepped up to take over the party rehearsal on Sunday morning.

Say what she would about Bill, and she had plenty to say about him over the last two weeks, but there was no denying that he inspired a certain unwavering loyalty among the company.

She was surrounded by the evidence of that in the form of sixteen children who had absolutely no interest in letting her herd them through the variation. She’d watched him leading rehearsal on Wednesday night to make sure she was up to speed, and she was more than a little charmed by how good he was with the kids. As brusque and rude as he could be with Jack and the company dancers (and with her), he was endlessly patient with the kids.

Watching him kneel on the studio floor to reason with a temperamental grade-schooler made her want to see him with his own kids. Lee and Zak were still young - did they still look at their dad with hero worship? Did they look like him, or talk like him? Did they fight with each other, the way she had with her sisters? Did they miss their dad?

“You must miss them,” she said, after she begrudgingly agreed to take on the damn Mother Ginger rehearsal.

“Every day.”

“And do you miss…” She stopped herself. It wasn’t her place to ask, and she didn’t want to know the answer.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

“Do you miss New York?”

Bill was many things, but stupid never one one of them. He knew damn well what she wanted to ask. Did he miss his wife? Did he miss his life?

“New York is great, but I don’t miss it.” He shrugged. “Home isn’t always a place, you know?”

Home was the house where she was raised, where she was raising Grace. Home was Philadelphia. Home was the scuffs on the kitchen table and the marks in the doorway where her father measured his girls at the start of each school year.

She’d spent the last eight years of her life trying to build a home for Grace. What was home if it wasn’t four walls and a roof?

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, grateful for the countless hours of yoga training. She’d need all the namaste she could call up to get through this rehearsal. A few kids in this variation, she’d be more than happy to knock them into corpse pose and let them stay there until she could make her escape from the building.

As bad as teaching yoga was, it was nothing compared to this live-action Lord of the Flies. It was probably for the best that she’d never had kids of her own. She took another deep breath and recued the music.

Long days didn’t bother her. Years of ballet conditioned her to see exhaustion as a temporary issue, not a chronic problem. Tonight, though, she was bone weary.  Two hours with Mother Ginger, another two hours waiting for Grace and David to finish their rehearsal with Jack, and all the while she was counting down the minutes until she could go home, have a glass of wine and drown herself in a lavendar-scented bath. Grace was still on a rehearsal high when they finally made it into the house, and as much as she wanted to be that responsible adult and cook a balanced meal for Grace, she was also smart enough to know her limits. She ordered Chinese food, pressed a few bills into Grace’s hand for the delivery and ducked into her bathroom with a glass of wine that was dangerously close to overflowing. Chow mein and sauteed eggplant could wait.

She was halfway through a glass of a delightful Russian River Chardonnay and a 90s playlist when her phone chirped. Expecting a text from Grace about dinner, she opened one eye and held up the phone.

Bill.

Going to the Please Touch Museum tomorrow with the boys. Interested?

Something about the bath and the wine and the candles she’d lit sent her mind in a direction that was most decidedly not child-friendly. Please touch, indeed, she wanted to reply. But the wine was soothing her nerves, she did want to meet Bill’s kids, and she had a few free hours in the afternoon. Grace had always loved that museum. Why not? She took a deep swig from her glass and tapped on her phone.

Rehearsal at 10. After lunch?

The little text bubbles appeared almost immediately  Before she could take another sip from her almost-empty glass, his reply popped up on her screen.

1pm. It’s a date.

It most certainly was not a date, because they did not date. It was two old friends taking their kids to a museum. She was too tired to argue the point, so she tapped out a reply that she’d meet him there.

Bill Adama with his kids. Years ago, she’d dreamed about seeing him with his kids, her kids. Their kids. Now, she was just curious.

Curious. That’s all. Just curious. Just friends. Just curious, just friends, just friends. Just...wished she had another glass of wine.

She settled back in the tub and banished all thoughts of Bill, all thoughts of ballet, all thoughts of rehearsal. In the quiet of the bathroom, she mentally reread a book from years ago. She was halfway through imagining the plot before she remembered where she’d gotten the book in the first place.

Dammit, Bill Adama.

***

The last time Bill remembered being this nervous, he was staring down a three-day-old infant with an incredibly ripe diaper.

That baby was now refusing to hold his hand, no matter how many times he reminded Lee about the rules about being out in a big, crowded public space like this, and that baby was still looking at him like he wasn’t quite up to the job of being a father. Zak was perfectly happy to clutch his leg and watch the world go by with his big blue eyes, but Lee was getting more and more impatient by the second. There were things to be seen and touched, questions to be answered, and Lee was having a hard time understanding why they were just standing there on the stone steps of the museum.

Because I want to impress Laura. Some things shouldn’t be shared with his six-year-old son.

Lee might not understand why they were waiting, but Bill had a pretty good idea. Once the boys went back to their mother, he was going to have to have another talk with Grace about being respectful about other people’s schedules.

He was about to give up and take the boys inside when he saw them, long legs and red-gold hair running down the sidewalk. Grace, fully healed from her injury, was leading the charge down the sidewalk, but Laura was just a few steps behind.

He recognized the look on her face, irritation mixed with resignation. Grace had already gotten one lecture and would get another later, he was sure of it. Lord knows he’d heard it from Laura enough in the past to cringe a little at the firm set of her jaw.

He missed that look. That what were you thinking? look, usually accompanied by crossed arms and tapping feet. Sometimes an eyeroll, sometimes a huff, sometimes no reaction other than her stalking down the hall and shutting their bedroom door behind her.

Sometimes all of the above, but usually...usually she stared him down until he could come up with an answer that sounded at least a little reasonable, and he’d plead his case and kiss her senseless, and she’d forgive him.

Maybe he needed to give Grace some tips about throwing herself on her aunt’s mercy. It probably wouldn’t do him any favors in the long run, but at the moment, he couldn’t stop a chuckle at how clearly angry she was.

“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Laura huffed as they came skidding to a halt in front of him.

He grabbed her by the waist, intent on stopping her forward momentum before she could knock them both over. “Not a problem,” he said, giving her a light squeeze. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

She smiled and took another deep breath, but before she could say anything else, a small voice interrupted them.

“Who are you?”

Bill laughed. Lee was nothing if not blunt. “Lee, this is my friend Laura and her niece, Grace. Laura, Grace, this is Lee, and,” he paused to pull Zak from where he was hiding behind his father, “this is Zak. They’re very excited to go into the museum.”

“Well,” Laura said brightly, “we shouldn’t keep you waiting. Are you excited?”

“I was excited an hour ago,” Lee replied with a world-weary sigh. Bill fought back a laugh at his son. Where did he come from? Both Bill and Lee’s mother were passionate, argumentative and more than a little quick to fly off the handle. Lee, though...Lee took in every situation with the same grim determination as a 90-year-old war vet who’d seen it all and no longer cared as long as he had a good meal and a comfortable bed at the end of the day.

He’s just like my father, Bill realized. The thought tugged at his chest and at his conscience. He and his dad didn’t get along, never had, but he should still call the old man. Tomorrow, maybe, he’d put the boys on the phone with his parents. In the meantime, he had an afternoon planned, and they were already running behind schedule. “Well, then, we won’t make you wait any longer,” he said. He held his hand out to his oldest son, but Lee had apparently forgotten all about him.

“We have to hold hands in crowded places,” Lee said and grasped Laura’s hand in his own. “Come on,” he said with a tug. She let him drag her up the steps to the museum doors without a backward glance.

Zak, always one to follow in his big brother’s footsteps, took hold of Grace’s hand and followed along, leaving Bill standing by himself. He’d planned this outing for the five of them, and they’d collectively ditched him on the sidewalk. He tried to be annoyed at how quickly his sons had abandoned him for two beautiful women, but he couldn’t stop a chuckle as he watched them disappear through the doors of the museum. Maybe his sons took after him more than he thought.

Zak bounced from exhibit to exhibit, poking and prodding at things, turning back to make sure that Grace was still with him before running along to the next. Lee, though, took his time, struggling to read through the description at each display, turning to Laura to help him with words that were beyond his grasp. She walked him through big words and answered the endless questions he asked about each exhibit. Laura held her own in the Wonderland exhibit and the Philadelphia cityscape, but she looked at him with pleading eyes when Lee started asking about the space station.

He knew his son, and he’d come prepared. Bill had done his homework on this exhibit and answered Lee’s questions about atmosphere and gravity and space travel as best he could. Thank God for Google, he muttered to himself. When Lee asked questions that three hours of internet research couldn’t answer, he set his son loose on a museum volunteer. When the kid looked up at him with a terrified expression, Bill felt the tiniest bit guilty, but the volunteer was getting paid and Zak was starting to whine about being hungry. Three hours had gone by; Lee could stay until the museum closed and not be done, but Zak was getting to the point where he needed food and a nap, or else there would be a meltdown.

He’d promised Carolanne he wouldn’t exhaust the boys; more to the point, he didn’t want Laura to think that he wasn’t capable of keeping up with his sons’ needs. He cut into Lee’s conversation with the volunteer and told him that he could ask two more questions.

Lee being Lee, he negotiated his father up to four questions. Bill looked up to see how Zak was doing - his youngest had his little arm curled around Laura’s legs, and she was absently stroking her fingers through his hair as she chatted with Grace. Four questions it was.

“Only four. Choose wisely.”

Sage advice. He wished someone had given it to him eight years ago.

He promised Carolanne he wouldn’t exhaust the boys, and he’d also promised her that he’d feed them something other than pizza and cheesesteaks. Laura pointed him to a small cafe down the street that had a kid-friendly menu, so the five of them squeezed into a booth and shared a pitcher of Coke. (He never promised Carolanne anything about soda, even though he knew he’d regret it in a few hours when the boys were still riding a caffeine high.) Laura did the ordering, salads for the adults and Grace, sandwiches and carrot sticks for the boys. She teased Zak about not eating the crusts, pushed tomatoes off of her salad so that Lee could dip them in ranch dressing and polish them off, and raised a practiced eyebrow when Grace announced that she was in performance mode and couldn’t possibly finish her meal.

“She doesn’t want you to see her eating,” she whispered to Bill. “She’s afraid you’ll think she’s going to get fat.”

If there was one thing that Bill never needed to hear again, it was a dancer complaining about getting fat. “Eat your salad. All of it. You’re no good to me if you pass out because you’re hungry.” He tossed a piece of bread onto her plate. “And eat that too.”

Grace wrinkled her nose at him. “Carbs?”

“Delicious carbs.” He took a bite of the chunk of bread on his plate. “Even better with butter.”

She snorted, but she picked up the offending piece of sourdough and took a bite. “Happy now?”

“Yes,” he agreed. He met Laura’s eyes and saw the relief shining there. Two can play this game. He looked down at Laura’s half-finished salad. “Bony elbows,” he reminded her.

She plucked the half-eaten piece of bread off his plate and polished it off. “Happy now?” she repeated with a grin after she swallowed.

Happy didn’t even begin to cover it. “It’s a start.”

***

The boys were sacked out on his bed by 9pm, but Bill was wide awake. After leaving Laura and Grace in the early evening, he’d brought the boys home and played six rounds of Go Fish, and his pride was more than a little dented that he’d lost to Lee five of the six rounds. He’d read them two stories, talked to them about what they wanted to be when they grew up and promised them he’d take them to the studio in the morning to watch a rehearsal before Zak and then Lee had finally nodded off. Now, he was absently wiping down the counters in his kitchen, going over and over the day in his head.

Did it make him a bad father that his thoughts kept getting caught up in Laura?

No more than it made you a bad husband, he could hear Carolanne whisper in his mind, and he had to concede the point to his imaginary ex-wife. He’d been a shitty husband, but at least now he could see that. Someday, maybe, he’d be brave enough to apologize to her.

Someday, but not today. Carolanne wasn’t stupid; she knew full well what was keeping him in Philadelphia, and it wasn’t the job. He’d hear about it when the boys went home and told their mother about Daddy’s friend Laura. It might well be a long time before he got another weekend like this with his sons in his home, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Seeing Laura with his boys, watching her patiently answer Lee’s questions and tuck Zak into her side when he started to nod off after dinner...years ago, he’d dreamed about how she would be with their kids. The reality was so much better.

He ducked his head into the bedroom to check on his sleeping sons. How could two small boys expand to take up the space of a queen-sized bed? Lee had his arms and legs flung out, and Zak and worked his way down to the foot of the bed, his arms dangling over the side.

So glad he’d invested in those air mattresses that they wouldn’t be using. He’d be sleeping on the couch tonight, for sure. He eased the dresser drawer open and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. If he had to sleep on the couch, he might as well be comfortable.  

The couch was cheap and functional,much like the rest of the furniture in his apartment. Now that he was planning to stay in Philadelphia, he needed to move to a bigger place with better furniture. The cushions’ rough seams dug into his back, and he shifted a few times to try and get more comfortable. He debated turning on the TV and trying to find an old movie to help lull him into sleep, but he knew that there was one sure-fire way to shut up his brain for the night.

It was barely 10pm; she’d probably still be awake. He picked up his phone and called Laura.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight,” she said.

“Kids are asleep. Thought it might be nice to talk to another adult.”

She hummed in response. “Thanks for what you said to Grace. She’s usually not like that, but...we both know how that can go.”

They did. “You might be a picky eater,” he said, ignoring her laugh at that, “but you were never that bad. It’s good that you’re keeping an eye on her.”

“It’s tough being the boss.” Wasn’t that the truth.

“You’re doing a great job,” he said.  Another hum. God, he could listen to that all night. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” she replied drily.

“You were great with Lee and Zak today. And you’ve done a great job with Grace. Why didn’t you….” he cut himself off, suddenly unsure about how to ask the question. “Didn’t you want your own kids?”

Silence on the other end. He shouldn’t have pushed. Dammit, a friend wouldn’t ask that question. “I’m not trying to pry.” He was. “But you must have dated in the last eight years.”

Still, nothing. He was about to disconnect the call and try her again when he heard her sigh. “Things change,” she finally said.

He knew that, far better than he should. “Sure they do. But you’re young, and pretty and I find it hard to believe that you didn’t have someone.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

He picked up quickly on the sadness in her voice, and he should probably shut up and change the topic, but he couldn’t help himself. “Do you talk about this with anyone else?”

He could hear a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, Bill. With my doctor, and some specialists, and some very prickly insurance adjusters. Things change, and things happen, and it’s really none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was sorry. Sorry for bringing it up, sorry for poking at old wounds he knew nothing about. Sorry that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“It is what it is,” she said, and by the tone of her voice, he knew the topic was closed for discussion.

Someday, he thought. Someday he’d get the full story out of her, but today was not that day. Today, she’d sat and whispered to his kids about space and dinosaurs and the Liberty Bell, and tonight, he needed to return the favor, not dig up old pain.

“So, you wanted to be an architect when you were a kid.”

She laughed at that, a sound he’d never get tired of hearing. “Among other things”, she said.

“Tell me about them. What did little Laura Roslin want to be when she grew up?” In the two years they’d lived together, he’d never asked that question, but now...now, he really wanted the answer.

She giggled again, and with a little prompting, he got her talking about wanting to be a vet, and an artist, long before she ever discovered ballet. He asked a few pointed questions and she answered in detail. Listening to her talk, he forgot about the cheap cushion seams poking into his back.

He forgot about everything but her voice in his ear, and kept talking to her until her stories drifted off into the deep breathing of sleep. He ended the call and laid his phone on his chest. Tomorrow, he’d see her again, and he could suffer through a few short hours on the couch until then.

THE PACE QUICKENS

QUICK as lightning, Rishda Tarkaan leaped back out of reach of the King's sword. He was no coward, and would have fought single-handed against Tirian and the Dwarf if need were. But he could not take on the Eagle and the Unicorn as well. He knew how Eagles can fly into your face and peck at your eyes and blind you with their wings. And he had heard from his father (who had met Narnians in battle) that no man, except with arrows, or a long spear, can match a Unicorn, for it rears on its hind legs as it falls upon you and then you have its hoofs and its horn and its teeth to deal with all at once. So he rushed into the crowd and stood calling out: "To me, to me, warriors of The Tisroc, may-he-liveforever. To me, all loyal Narnians, lest the wrath of Tashlan fall upon you!" While this was happening two other things happened as well. The Ape had not realized his danger as quickly as the Tarkaan. For a second or so he remained squatting beside the fire staring at the newcomers. Then Tirian rushed upon the wretched creature, picked it up by the scruff of the neck, and dashed back to the stable shouting, "Open the door!" Poggin opened it. "Go and drink your own medicine, Shift!" said Tirian and hurled the Ape through into the darkness. But as the Dwarf banged the door shut again, a blinding greenish-blue light shone out from the inside of the stable, the earth shook, and there was a strange noise - a clucking and screaming as if it was the hoarse voice of some monstrous bird. The Beasts moaned and howled and called out "Tashlan! Hide us from him!" and many fell down, and many hid their faces in their wings or paws. No one except Farsight the Eagle, who has the best eyes of all living things, noticed the face of Rishda Tarkaan at that moment. And from what Farsight saw there he knew at once that Rishda was just as surprised, and nearly frightened, as everyone else. "There goes one," thought Farsight, "who has called on gods he does not believe in. How will it be with him if they have really come?" The third thing - which also happened at the same moment - was the only really beautiful thing that night. Every single Talking Dog in the whole meeting (there were fifteen of them) came bounding and barking joyously to the King's side. They were mostly great big dogs with thick shoulders and heavy jaws. Their coming was like the breaking of a great wave on the seabeach: it nearly knocked you down. For though they were Talking Dogs they were just as doggy as they could be: and they all stood up and put their front paws on the shoulders of the humans and licked their faces, all saying at once: "Welcome! Welcome! We'll help, we'll help, help, help. Show us how to help, show us how, how. How-how-how?" It was so lovely that it made you want to cry. This, at last, was the sort of thing they had been hoping for. And when, a moment later, several little animals (mice and moles and a squirrel or so) came pattering up, squealing with joy, and saying "See, see. We're here," and when, after that, the Bear and the Boar came too, Eustace began to feel that perhaps, after all, everything might be going to come right. But Tirian gazed round and saw how very few of the animals had moved. "To me! to me!" he called. "Have you all turned cowards since I was your King?" "We daren't," whimpered dozens of voices. "Tashlan would be angry. Shield us from Tashlan." "Where are all the Talking Horses?" said Tirian to the Boar. "We've seen, we've seen," squealed the Mice. "The Ape has made them work. They're all tied - down at the bottom of the hill." "Then all you little ones," said Tirian, "you nibblers and gnawers and nutcrackers, away with you as fast as you can scamper and see if the Horses are on our side. And if they are, get your teeth into the ropes and gnaw till the Horses are free and bring them hither." "With a good will, Sire," came the small voices, and with a whisk of tails those sharp-eyed and sharp-toothed folk were off. Tirian smiled for mere love as he saw them go. But it was already time to be thinking of other things. Rishda Tarkaan was giving his orders. "Forward," he said. "Take all of them alive if you can and hurl them into the stable or drive them into it. When they are all in we will put fire to it and make them an offering to the great god Tash." "Ha!" said Farsight to himself. "So that is how he hopes to win Tash's pardon for his unbelief." The enemy line - about half of Rishda's force - was now moving forward, and Tirian had barely time to give his orders. "Out on the left, Jill, and try to shoot all you may before they reach us. Boar and Bear next to her. Poggin on my left, Eustace on my right. Hold the right wing, Jewel. Stand by him, Puzzle, and use your hoofs. Hover and strike, Farsight. You Dogs, just behind us. Go in among them after the sword-play has begun. Aslan to our aid!" Eustace stood with his heart beating terribly, hoping and hoping that he would be brave. He had never seen anything (though he had seen both a dragon and a seaserpent) that made his blood run so cold as that line of dark-faced bright-eyed men. There were fifteen Calormenes, a Talking Bull of Narnia, Slinkey the Fox, and Wraggle the Satyr. Then he heard twang-and-zipp on his left and one Calormene fell: then twang-andzipp again and the Satyr was down. "Oh, well done, daughter!" came Tirian's voice; and then the enemy were upon them. Eustace could never remember what happened in the next two minutes. It was all like a dream (the sort you have when your temperature is over 100) until he heard Rishda Tarkaan's voice calling out from the distance: "Retire. Back hither and re-form." Then Eustace came to his senses and saw the Calormenes scampering back to their friends. But not all of them. Two lay dead, pierced by Jewel's horn, one by Tirian's sword. The Fox lay dead at his own feet, and he wondered if it was he who had killed it. The Bull also was down, shot through the eye by an arrow from Jill and gashed in his side by the Boar's tusk. But our side had its losses too. Three dogs were killed and a fourth was hobbling behind the line on three legs and whimpering. The Bear lay on the ground, moving feebly. Then it mumbled in its throaty voice, bewildered to the last, "I - I don't understand," laid its big head down on the grass as quietly as a child going to sleep, and never moved again. In fact, the first attack had failed. Eustace didn't seem able to be glad about it: he was so terribly thirsty and his arm ached so. As the defeated Calormenes went back to their commander, the Dwarfs began jeering at them. "Had enough, Darkies?" they yelled. "Don't you like it? Why doesn't your great Tarkaan go and fight himself instead of sending you to be killed? Poor Darkies!" "Dwarfs," cried Tirian. "Come here and use your swords, not your tongues. There is still time. Dwarfs of Narnia! You can fight well, I know. Come back to your allegiance." "Yah!" sneered the Dwarfs. "Not likely. You're just as big humbugs as the other lot. We don't want any Kings. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs. Boo!" Then the Drum began: not a Dwarf drum this time, but a big bull's hide Calormene drum. The children from the very first hated the sound. Boom - boom - ba-ba-boom it went. But they would have hated it far worse if they had known what it meant. Tirian did. It meant that there were other Calormene troops somewhere near and that Rishda Tarkaan was calling them to his aid. Tirian and Jewel looked at one another sadly. They had just begun to hope that they might win that night: but it would be all over with them if new enemies appeared. Tirian gazed despairingly round. Several Narnians were standing with the Calormenes, whether through treachery or in honest fear of "Tashlan". Others were sitting still, staring, not likely to join either side. But there were fewer animals now: the crowd was much smaller. Clearly, several of them had just crept quietly away during the fighting. Boom - boom - ba-ba-boom went the horrible drum. Then another sound began to mix with it. "Listen!" said Jewel: and then "Look!" said Farsight. A moment later there was no doubt what it was. With a thunder of hoofs, with tossing heads, widened nostrils, and waving manes, over a score of Talking Horses of Narnia came charging up the hill. The gnawers and nibblers had done their work. Poggin the Dwarf and the children opened their mouths to cheer but that cheer never came. Suddenly the air was full of the sound of twanging bow-strings and hissing arrows. It was the Dwarfs who were shooting and - for a moment Jill could hardly believe her eyes - they were shooting the Horses. Dwarfs are deadly archers. Horse after Horse rolled over. Not one of those noble Beasts ever reached the King. "Little Swine," shrieked Eustace, dancing in his rage. "Dirty, filthy, treacherous little brutes." Even Jewel said, "Shall I run after those Dwarfs, Sire, and spit ten of them on my horn at each plunge?" But Tirian with his face as stern as stone, said, "Stand fast, Jewel. If you must weep, sweetheart (this was to Jill), turn your face aside and see you wet not your bow-string. And peace, Eustace. Do not scold, like a kitchen-girl. No warrior scolds. Courteous words or else hard knocks are his only language." But the Dwarfs jeered back at Eustace. "That was a surprise for you, little boy, eh? Thought we were on your side, did you? No fear. We don't want any Talking Horses. We don't want you to win any more than the other gang. You can't take us in. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs." Rishda Tarkaan was still talking to his men, doubtless making arrangements for the next attack and probably wishing he had sent his whole force into the first. The drum boomed on. Then, to their horror, Tirian and his friends heard, far fainter as if from a long way off, an answering drum. Another body of Calormenes had heard Rishda's signal and were coming to support him. You would not have known from Tirian's face that he had now given up all hope. "Listen," he whispered in a matter-of-fact voice, "we must attack now, before yonder miscreants are strengthened by their friends." "Bethink you, Sire," said Poggin, "that here we have the good wooden wall of the stable at our backs. If we advance, shall we not be encircled and get sword-points between our shoulders?" "I would say as you do, Dwarf," said Tirian. "Were it not their very plan to force us into the stable? The further we are from its deadly door, the better." "The King is right," said Farsight. "Away from this accursed stable, and whatever goblin lives inside it, at all costs." "Yes, do let's," said Eustace. "I'm coming to hate the very sight of it." "Good," said Tirian. "Now look yonder to our left. You see a great rock that gleams white like marble in the firelight. First we will fall upon those Calormenes. You, maiden, shall move out on our left and shoot as fast as ever you may into their ranks: and you, Eagle, fly at their faces from the right. Meanwhile we others will be charging them. When we are so close, Jill, that you can no longer shoot at them for fear of striking us, go back to the white rock and wait. You others, keep your ears wide even in the fighting. We must put them to flight in a few minutes or else not at all, for we are fewer than they. As soon as I call Back, then rush to join Jill at the white rock, where we shall have protection behind us and can breathe awhile. Now, be off, Jill." Feeling terribly alone, Jill ran out about twenty feet, put her right leg back and her left leg forward, and set an arrow to her string. She wished her hands were not shaking so. "'That's a rotten shot!" she said as her first arrow sped towards the enemy and flew over their heads. But she had another on the string next moment: she knew that speed was what mattered. She saw something big and black darting into the faces of the Calormenes. 'that was Farsight. First one man, and then another, dropped his sword and put up both his hands to defend his eyes. Then one of her own arrows hit a man, and another hit a Narnian wolf, who had, it seemed, joined the enemy. But she had been shooting only for a few seconds when she had to stop. With a flash of swords and of the Boar's tusks and Jewel's horn, and with deep baying from the dogs, Tirian and his party were rushing on their enemies, like men in a hundred yards' race. Jill was astonished to see how unprepared the Calormenes seemed to be. She did not realize that this was the result of her work and the Eagle's. Very few troops can keep on looking steadily to the front if they are getting arrows in their faces from one side and being pecked by an eagle on the other. "Oh well done. Well done!" shouted Jill. The King's party were cutting their way right into the enemy. The Unicorn was tossing men as you'd toss hay on a fork. Even Eustace seemed to Jill (who after all didn't know very much about swordsmanship) to be fighting brilliantly. The Dogs were at the Calormenes' throats. It was going to work! It was victory at last - With a horrible, cold shock Jill noticed a strange thing. Though Calormenes were falling at each Narnian sword-stroke, they never seemed to get any fewer. In fact, there were actually more of them now than when the fight began. There were more every second. They were running up from every side. They were new Calormenes. These new ones had spears. There was such a crowd of them that she could hardly see her own friends. Then she heard Tirian's voice crying: "Back! To the rock!" The enemy had been reinforced. The drum had done its work.