In which there are known knowns and known unknowns, but unknown unknowns remain unknown.

Here are the things you now know about Estel:

1) Estel's boots are very well made and this world doesn't have sunglasses.

I mean, you've seen glasses - these delicate little pinch-nose things of gold and small lenses perched on the ends of noses of venerable dwarves as they argue over contracts in the common room of The Pony. They don't seem to have progressed to tinted lenses, though. Well, that you've seen, anyway.

But seriously, Estel's boots are sturdy, heavy leather, with stitching that is tight and evenly placed. Still, he's worn the hell out of them and it looks like the soles have been replaced, and even those are near the end of their useful life. You've heard a thing or two about Rangers and hadn't known how much to believe, but Estel's boots don't lie or exaggerate. Dude has done some serious walking and probably doesn't spend much time indoors. He's out in the sun a lot and he's got the crow's feet to prove it. He's done a lot of squinting into sunlit vistas and the creases about his eyes are lighter than the rest of the skin on his face. They crinkle up when he smiles.

It's kinda nice.

2) He doesn't smile nearly enough.

You may do really stupid things to see more of it.

3) Dude is fastidious about his things.

The first thing he did during down time was to clean and work in a mix of fat and wax into whatever he had of leather and polish and sharpen that long hunting knife of his you had first noticed at The Pony. You caught Estel examining the work you did repairing his clothes. He even picked out the mending you had done on his coat and redid it. He didn't even pretend to be embarrassed.

You had worked really hard on that.

Fucker.

4) Fucker needs a haircut.

5) Yeah. Those rolls of plump skin just over his hipbones? Still there.

The night is humid.

Very humid.

Like swimming through soup kind of humid.

You'd fan yourself with the hem of your shirt if you weren't worried the movement might wake Estel.

Okay okay okay okay okay okay.

Damn it.

God, it's been burning a hole in your pocket ever since you woke up this morning, its hard edge tapping against your chest any time you stand up from leaning over like you needed the reminder or something.

At first you'd do it whenever you couldn't stand not doing it any more, but then the itch would burrow in the back of your mind like some obscene fungus that hijacks the brains of ants and impels them reject all good sense, all company, all food, all sleep, and climb as high as they can get so their head can explode and spew spores all around to capture the next victim.

Fuck!

And so you spread it out as long as you dare and slapped yourself down any time you felt the impulse outside of the appointed times faster than Sr. Mary Elizabeth with her goddamn ruler. You have been fucking waiting all fucking day.

Look, don't get me wrong, you've been seriously isolated and it's been fucking with your mind. Some weeks you'd go so long without talking to anyone that you'd open your mouth and, like, nothing would drop out of it. You could manage things like, "hello," "how are you," "nice day," and "you gotta pay your tab before I can take your order," but your ability to converse had all the depth of a toddler's wading pool. Stumbling over your words did absolutely nothing to convince the citizens of Bree that their first impressions of you weren't exactly on the money. There may have been a lot of impatient silences, or, worse yet, looks of pity and pats on the arm.

So even you can recognize how much good it's doing you to have steady company, no matter how reserved and emotionally constipated Estel tends to be. It's just that, well, now you have the exact opposite problem. You have absolutely no privacy. You can't do this outside where someone might see you, right? Or maybe… It's usually not much of a problem, but, today? Today. Today, you really need some time to yourself.

It may have been a very long day.

It's the quiet time of night, when the cricket, who is still in residence despite Estel's muttering and lifting baskets and barrels and furniture he really shouldn't be picking up in his state searching for it, has finally quit his solo.

The only thing you can hear is Estel's breathing from the cot; long draws in and short, explosive puffs out of the deeply asleep.

A quick glance up from where you've curled up on the floor and you've got a good view of Estel's hand where it dangles over the edge of the cot and the faint view of his cheek and shoulder where he is turned toward you.

Damn it.

Maybe you should wait until tomorrow and chance it outside, huddle up in the corner between the wall and garden fence. It's just that you've turned down the brightness about as low as it can get and it's awfully hard to see anything in daylight as a result. Or it might be less humid tomorrow and you can find some excuse to keep the fire going during the night, so the light won't be so obvious.

Yeah. You should wait and do this outside in the garden when Estel naps after his morning exercise. Yes. That's what you're going to do.

But then you've wormed your way to the foot of the cot, where you have the best chance of being outside Estel's direct line of sight, dragging your pillow and your rolled up tunic where you had stuffed it beneath it.

Before you've really clocked that that's what you're doing, you've pulled it out. You fumble with the buttons as if it's become this strange device you've never seen before. Your hands are sweating and your head is about to explode until faint light beams from the front of the phone.

Okay okay.

There's some battery left. 11% Okay okay. '30…29…28…27…' You begin your countdown, tapping quickly, the light flickering on your face as you flick through them one after another.

Fuck. There they are. Memories sharpen and you suck in a slow breath and keep counting. '3…2…1.'

You need to turn it off.

Turn it off! C'mon c'mon. Shit! 10%! Do it, god damn it!

Once the screen goes dark, you clutch the phone and let it rest on your breastbone and close your eyes, just letting the images sink in without thinking about them too much.

Just a few more times left. You need to make a plan.

When you open your eyes, the light from the phone has destroyed your night vision. And so what you don't know, what you completely miss, is the glitter of Estel's eyes in the dim light.