Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.
Summary: "Why do you speak Irish anyway?"
A/N: This is part of my A Light in the Darkness universe, but can be read as a standalone. One-shot requested by Markus. Enjoy!
Cén fáth?
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"Kat! There you are, I... Kat, what are you doing?"
"Bhreacadh díoltas in aghaidh an Kentauri." (Plotting revenge against the Kentauri.) Katerina straightened from where she had been digging through a storage chest and turned to see Lucy frowning at her in confusion. She managed to force herself to speak English again, although her lilt was far thicker than it had been that morning. "My apologies, Lucy, the Kentauri is being irksome, which tends to provoke my Irish into coming to the fore."
"Kat, why do you speak Irish anyway?"
Katerina shrugged as she moved to open the next storage chest, "I was taught it and it stuck."
She didn't even get the chance to start digging through the next storage chest before Lucy grabbed her hand. The ten-year-old peered up at her with those big blue eyes. "Isn't there a story behind it, Kat? You usually have a story for why you do most things."
She met Lucy's eyes for a moment before looking back at the contents of the storage chest. It was decidedly difficult to plot against the Kentauri when she had Lucy pleading for her to do something else. "Yes, there is a story behind it, but it's just a short one and not that interesting."
Her disclaimer had no effect whatsoever as Lucy clasped her hands together and rose on her tiptoes as she pleaded, "Oh, Kat, won't you tell the story? Please?"
Katerina sighed and shut the storage chest's lid. She wouldn't be able to do anything until she satisfied Lucy's curiosity...besides the pleading really was hard to resist and it would be better to save her energy for when she really needed to resist Lucy's pleas and those big puppy-dog eyes she was currently giving her. She perched on top of the storage chest and hid a smile as Lucy cheered before she even said anything. "All right, Lucy, you want to know why I speak Irish. Here's the story."
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She shifted uncomfortably on her side, wishing she could turn over or lie on her back or just move in general. But, the doctors and nurses all said she had to stay still on her side because the wounds on her back hadn't healed enough and she might pull her stitches if she moved unsupervised. The inside of her left elbow itched where the needle from the IV had been inserted. Her hands were hurting too, but the nurse had just given her the next dose of pain medicine. However, nothing helped alleviate her main problem: complete and utter boredom. She couldn't do anything she liked to do. She couldn't draw or even read because just turning the pages of a book was currently impossible with her hands heavily wrapped in bandages.
The machines in the room kept up their steady beeping as she listened to the people walking by outside the hospital room, sometimes talking, other times nothing but the echo or squeak of their shoes revealed their presence. The only other sound she could hear was the thunderstorm raging outside...the Marshal who had come on duty an hour ago said if they weren't in Colorado, he'd think it was a hurricane. She had nearly dozed off when she heard a distinct set of footsteps. She hadn't heard them in just over two weeks. She smiled as soon as the door opened and the U.S. Marshal let in a visitor. "Professor!"
The Professor grinned at her, "How are you, lass?"
She waited a beat then intentionally responded with a question in return. "And yourself?"
The Professor chuckled as he walked into the room, his old-fashioned cane clicking against the floor in time with his right foot, and sat in the ugly chair next to the bed. "Well enough, m'dear, on a soft old day like today."
A clap of thunder punctuated his statement and she had to grin. Even though he had been living in the States for nearly twenty years, the Professor was distinctly Irish when it came to how he described bad weather (by not describing it). The Professor ran a hand through his white hair, which was already standing on end (he said it was a family trait), then dug into the pocket of his vest to pull out an old-fashioned pipe. "Professor, you know you can't smoke that in here, right? And, Nurse Jekyll said she would pluck out your beard if she caught you with that pipe again."
"Well then, we just won't let her catch me with my pipe will we? Besides, I'm not smoking it. I'm holding it with my teeth." He winked at her and she grinned. "Now, let's be about our sneaky meeting before the boyo says our time's left us again."
The professor was so strange sometimes, he almost always made her want to laugh, but she just smiled instead. "Professor?"
He looked up and momentarily ceased chewing on the stem of his pipe, "Something on your mind, Katerina Alambiel?"
She frowned slightly, "I'm bored here."
She watched as the Professor looked around the hospital room then nodded, "Sure enough. But, that is not what is on your mind. That is your current state of being. So, the question is what is on your mind and on your tongue?"
She met his gaze, and then blurted out her request, "Would you teach me to speak Irish?"
He lowered his pipe and stared at her in silence for several seconds, "So... Is mian leat an teanga a fhoghlaim an Ghaeilge?" (You wish to learn the language of the Irish?)
She nodded as best she could. "Please Professor. You did say I was a fast learner with the other languages we've already done, can't you teach me Irish too?"
The Professor finally nodded, "So you are and so I shall. Let us begin."
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Katerina smiled at Lucy. "The Professor would come by as often as he could to teach me Irish and other languages as well. We always started and ended the visits with a conversation in Irish, even on the days where he had selected one of the other languages for our main lesson to focus on. That's how I learned Irish."
"How many other languages do you speak, Kat?"
Katerina paused a moment before answering, "Let's see I speak six languages fluently, not counting English, and then there are three others I speak passably, and there are six more languages that I can at least speak well enough to survive." She shrugged at Lucy's surprised look, "I have a knack for languages, I'm a fast learner, and I spent most of my free time either reading or practicing my language skills or both. It's actually a rather useless skill now that I think about it."
Lucy shook her head, "I think it's wonderful. Although, why do you have an Irish accent?"
Katerina grinned, "Truthfully, I don't really know other than I had already picked it up a bit from being around the Professor and his niece, both of whom have very thick Irish accents, and it just thickened as I learned to speak Irish. I didn't notice I had it until I lost my temper and chewed out one of Charlie's men in Irish and when I finished, my lilt was so pronounced I couldn't miss it."
Lucy giggled, "Like how you yelled at Peter and Edmund yesterday?"
"Exactly. And my accent has been most pronounced since then, hasn't it now?" Lucy nodded with another giggle before she ran off to change into her court dress for the afternoon. Katerina didn't move from her spot atop the storage chest as she said, "You can come out now."
Oreius walked in and gave her an amused look, "Exactly how old were you when you yelled at Charlie's man?"
"Just shy of fourteen."
"So, you have always been like this?"
Katerina grinned unrepentantly, "Pretty much."
Oreius shook his head clearly choosing not to pursue that tangent. "And, why are you in here, Katerina Alambiel?"
She gave a dismissive wave, "Ah, I was looking for something that would help me get you back for being so irksome this morn."
He raised an eyebrow, "Irksome?"
"Irksome, although I could have called you annoying, irritating, irritable, exasperating, infuriating, need I go on?"
He snorted, but didn't take the bait. "I take it you have changed your mind about searching the rest of the storage chests?"
Katerina looked around and nodded, "Yes, it will be easier just to stage a coup."
"Sepphora."
"What? I'll stage a coup, get rid of you, and then I'll give it back."
Oreius rolled his eyes, "Go practice your Irish or one of the other languages you apparently speak, Katerina Alambiel."
She laughed softly as she left the room. "Beidh mé ag cleachtadh a lán rudaí. Tá súil tú ach ní féidir liom a chleachtadh stáitse le coup i measc an chuid eile de." (I shall practice many things. You just hope I don't practice staging a coup among the rest of it.)
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A/N: Please Read and Review! So, a short little oneshot explaining why Katerina speaks Irish and where she picked it up. Leave a review below and let me know what y'all think about it.
A/N2: I've had some protests about Kat being a polyglot, but I'd like to clarify that while it is difficult to be a polyglot, it is not impossible as can be seen from the presence of multilingual translators who've mastered an average of five languages. Kat's fluency in languages is based on the ILR(Interagency Language Roundtable) scale. The six languages (besides English) that she considers herself as fluent in range from a Level 3 (Professional working proficiency) to a Level 5 (Native or bilingual proficiency), the three she speaks passably are at a Level 2 (Limited working proficiency), and the six she speaks well enough to survive are at Level 1 (Elementary proficiency). I do use a translator, but no offense is meant toward the native speakers. I chose to make Kat multilingual because it is an interesting character choice. Finally, please keep in mind that this is just a fantasy story and science isn't law. :)