Again, this chapter was supposed to keep going, but I've realized one of my problems is the chapters get too big and discourage me. So, this damn story is going to be many more chapters than I thought. Because of the cut we lost the philosophical chat with the drow though, pity. Next time, let's hope! Excuse me for any incorrect language usage that may present itself in this chapter.
Also, a big thank you goes out to SJ who helped me with the German. (blows kiss) thankyou thankyou!
Enjoy, and beware of many italics.

Rheas lay still before the tree that had stopped his descent. He couldn't remember too clearly, but he recalled bright light and scalding fire, and then he had been rolling. The large tree had stopped him, albeit painfully, from rolling right over a dropoff and into the river below. But now he couldn't move. He knew this feeling, the great weight that was settling itself comfortably onto his bones. The cold creeping up from the wet ground as he felt his blood flow away, sluggish yet consistent, out of his body, leaving him cold. In the cold and the weight he could only lie there as water dropped onto him from above, but this did not relieve his burning skin.

I've done this before……

I'm going to die here…

He lay there, his cheek against the wet cement as the light rain fell down onto him. He didn't move; it hurt too much to move. Better to just fade away than to feel that horrible alien pain. His blood, freed from the flesh, ran away from him, mingling with the water and the puddles not too far away. The thirteen-year-old boy lay silent in the rain, unmoving. No one noticed him. No one cared.

Finished and satisfied with both blood and seed, the large man, his attacker, simply picked up the young boy's bag and walked away. Left alone, Rheas curled up as far as the pain would allow and let the heaviness settle over him until the world seemed to spin, though he was quite sure he was lying still. Or was he…?

Did it matter?

The world soon darkened, but whether or not this was nature's doing or his own failing vision he could not be sure. Somehow, though, a single feeling of skin against his cheek broke through the delirium. It was cool against his burning flesh, but not cold or hard, and it was the only thing in his shrinking world that made sense. He was suddenly aware of other hands then, touching and turning him, and he struggled weakly. He spoke, but the words he said were slurred and stupid, about as incoherent as the ones that were talking back to him. He finally gave up. Or was it his own body that had given up on him?

Did it matter?

Somehow he eventually managed to part the darkness and the cold and open his eyes. The world was a blur of dull colors and shapes. He was no longer on the wet cement, but he could feel no further than that. He was too cold anyway. Gazing straight ahead, he saw nothing but a cream color for a moment, and then three figures that sat around him, whispering.

On one side of him he thought he saw walls, but they were dark and glittering. Reflective, how strange. To the other side was a light, yellow and soft, but still burned right through his eyes and into his head. Shutting his eyes again, he moaned and tried to turn away.

Something cold and soft was placed onto his forehead and he heard a gentle voice speaking, though it sounded far away. Forcing his eyes open again, he tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, and he didn't know what he was trying to say anyway. His thoughts wouldn't organize, his mind wouldn't focus. Nothing was right, and in this delirium he panicked, feebly moving his arms in an attempt to get a bearing on his surroundings that made no sense.

A slender, black hand suddenly crept into his vision, tracing unrecognizable symbols above his head. Somewhere, he thought he heard a voice chanting.

And he fell back into a heavy, dreamless sleep with a sigh.

He awoke fully in an instant, his eyes open and clear. All of his unorganized thoughts snapped back into place and his body's senses tingled to life. The world flooded back into recognizable forms and feelings.

He was in a bed, white sheets and a blanket pulled up over his shoulders almost to his chin. It wasn't very large, smaller than his own, and was placed against the wall, a nightstand beside it. A small lamp, the one that had at one time been so blinding, and a bowl of water were the only things placed upon it. Rheas sat up slowly, propping himself up on one elbow. He felt as though his bones were made of lead, his muscles nothing more than wet noodles.

Across the thin, empty room were windows that practically formed the walls themselves, looking out into the heart of the city. These had been the reflective walls, darkened by nightfall. How long had he been out? Looking out the great windows into the city, he guessed it was late morning. He was in a building, three stories up, though he was not so sure this was an apartment building. By the look of things, he was still in the business district. The room was a slight triangular shape, placed at the tip of the building and made to fit the shell it was in.

This was not good.

He didn't have a clue where he was or what had happened to him after…well. Sitting up fully he discovered, to his horror and frustration, that he had been stripped completely of his clothing. Well, considering his earlier endeavor, this was certainly not a good sign. Still, he noted his injuries had been dressed. He wasn't sure whether to fear or thank this person. Probably both, the way his luck seemed to go. Well, he had never been a man of luck, unwilling to think that some random force decided how the events in his life went.

He then noticed a bundle of clothing at the foot of the bed, though not his own. Glaring at the ridiculously large windows contemptuously, he tossed aside the sheets and dressed quickly. Something he immediately regretted, as the room seemed to spin under his feet. Sitting again, he hurriedly pulled on the pair of grey sweatpants and a night-blue turtleneck that, to his surprise, actually fit him. He stared for a moment at what appeared to be a dull red sleeveless duster of heavy wool. Shrugging, he put it on and found it comfortably warm.

I'm such a girl, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes at his makeshift attire. Taking a breath, he rose to his feet again, legs apart to steady him as the dizziness overwhelmed him. Finally it passed and he was able to move about, though he decided not to tempt fate, or whatever, and took slow steps. The carpet was soft and warm under his bare feet.

The door was located not too far from the bed and it was unlocked. It led to a hallway, rooms on either side, well lit through the sunlight that poured through windows equally large as the one in the room he just left. At the end of the hall was a staircase. Apparently, this place was one home. Padding down the hall slowly, he decided this place was rather large, in an odd cramped way, The rooms were small, but there were so many of them, most with adjoining doors, it didn't matter. Reaching the staircase, he found it rather small and elaborate. Small steps spiraled down gracefully, a metal handrail held up by metal bars shaped in the form of growing ivy. Seeing no one about, he descended the stairs to the next floor down.

While above had obviously been the personal bedrooms and bathroom, the second story was without a doubt the living area, also triangular in shape. The stairs descended into a sitting room, also with large windows, that had several bookcases against the wall, a small television and various potted plants placed about. The sitting room led to a hallway that joined with a kitchenette and a small dining area, and from there he could see another set of stairs, larger and more conventional.

But his attention remained in the sitting room. Sitting at a plain poker table, a young woman was playing Solitaire, her back to the windows and the sun's rays that shone in them. She did not notice Rheas. With a sigh, the woman sat back, rubbing her temples.

"I can't believe this…" she muttered to herself, "I used to be so good at this…" Determined, she carefully began to move cards around and, with a sudden "aha!", suddenly picked up her pace, satisfied with her own gameplay.

Rheas watched her in silence a moment. Even from the stair he could see she was very lovely. Quick, calculating eyes as she dealt out cards with nimble fingers and long raven-black hair that fell almost to her waist tied back in a loose, unbrushed ponytail. A few long strands had fallen free and hung in her green eyes. She brushed these aside with casual, graceful twists of her hand. But it was not her beauty that held Rheas' gaze, but something else. Something completely, inhumanly, different.

Was this woman the one who had brought him here? Who stripped him and cared for him? The thought made him extremely uncomfortable and he shifted slightly, his hand sliding down the rail with a muffled ring. The sound attracted her attention and she looked up at him, her green eyes catching the light, and she smiled.

It was not a benign smile. Was it cunning? Eager, even? Rheas couldn't decide.

"'Morning. Feeling better? You had a pretty high fever last night," the strange woman said casually, as though speaking to an old friend. Her voice, projected now, fascinated Rheas. Neither high nor deep, the voice was plain, there was nothing particularly good or bad about it. Easy and calm, the voice's sole purpose was to communicate and nothing more. He found this oddly delightful.

He brushed these random thoughts aside and instead replied with a sharp tongue, "Who are you, to bring me here…! I don't know who you are or even really what has happened to me, and yet I awaken to find myself in another's strange apartment, another's bed, my clothing removed! Pardon my suspicions, lady," he hissed the title, "but given my most recent circumstance, I am quite ill at ease!"

"Actually that was our guest-bed," she replied calmly, not angered in the least by his outburst. "Most would not consider me a woman of sympathy, but even I cannot turn away from a young boy bleeding to death in an alley like much of this world. Perhaps it was to further my own gains? Isn't that all anyone does in their actions, no matter how kind or sacrificing? But don't worry, I didn't see you, if that's what you are worried about. My cousins tended your injuries, they're boys." She smiled suddenly, unmistakably playful, "Note my words, 'boys', not 'men'."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Rheas' mouth in amusement. It wasn't what she said, but how she said it, so laid back yet acting the pure image of long time suffering, that made Rheas almost surrender to her right there. He caught himself and straightened his mouth firmly. "That is not what I meant."

"I figured, but answer my question first. How do you feel? Better?"

"Marginally."

"Normally a 'thank you' would be in order."

"I didn't ask for your help."

To his surprise, she seemed slightly pleased by his answer, but only in her eyes. Her well-formed mouth turned downward a little, he barely noticed at first.

"I don't think you were in any position to just call up a passing doctor."

"True. But you could have hailed one yourself."

"We figured you would want to avoid the hospital, being a runaway and all…"

"How did you know I was a runaway? I lost everything I was carrying that would have betrayed me as such."

"You don't look from around here."

"Neither is half the people on the streets, I'll wager. Or do you just know everyone in Portland?"

"More than most, actually. But I've been here a long time, and you just start to…notice those things. I'm sure you can differentiate between a tourist and a resident back where you're from."

"The tourists always carry umbrellas."

She half-smiled. "Here too, but I suspect you see my point?"

"Clearly."

"Good. So we decided to help you out."

"Out of pity."

"Out of empathy," she replied sharply. Leaning back, she dropped her cards and shrugged, saying gently, "My cousins and I ran away together, a long time ago. You could say we're still running…" She sighed and shrugged again.

"Thank you."

She smiled, but did not look at him. "You're welcome. Well, come on down here if you can manage, I want a good look at you. People always look better than when they're in a delirium."

Hesitantly, Rheas padded down the stairway, gripping the rail tightly so not to stumble. The carpeted floor, recently in sunlight, was warm to the touch. He sat down heavily in a vacant chair across from her.

"And are your cousins Elven as well or is that just your own thing?" he commented with a sneer. She looked up at him sharply, her green eyes penetrating into his golden ones, nearly right through his raised mirrors, and returned his cold smirk.

"Guess it's the ears, huh? Well, what does it matter? If I say yes, you will think of me only as some Tolkien wannabe with identification problems, correct?"

"Perhaps. As you said, it doesn't matter."

"We shall leave it at that, then. Anyway you must think me a rude host for not introducing myself."

"I will not think anything of you until I have your name."

"Fair enough." She extended her hand across the table to him, offering it in greeting. "My name is Hanathel, pleasure to meet you."

The small boy took hold of her hand firmly. "Rheas Madison, returned."

"Good, now that that's over with…" she lifted up a new card, wrinkled her face in disgust, and dropped it again with a tormented sigh. "I hate this game. Do you play cards?"

"Of my own kind. Unfortunately my Wyvern starter deck was in my bag."

"Pity. Sorry we couldn't rescue your stuff as well."

"You have done more than enough for me."

"I suppose…You know, you do look better now," she winked at him suddenly, "kinda cute. Glad we rescued you."

Rheas felt his cheeks get hot and shifted uncomfortably. It had been a long time since anyone had told him he was attractive, and he suddenly realized he wasn't too fond of it.

Hanathel spared him the moment and continued, changing the subject. "So, Rheas," she spoke his name as though testing it, comparing it with another, "where are you from?"

"North."

"So is a panda bear if you keep on going. Give me a name."

"Seattle. No pandas there, sorry."

"Ah, that's not too far from here, couple hours or so. Did you drive down here?"

"I'm thirteen."

"A bus then? All right, you needn't glare at me, I suppose it's your turn for a question."

"How old are you?"

"Well now, there's a rude one for you. Ah well…Physically? Or I can give you my real age and you can think I'm insane."

Rheas smiled crookedly, resembling his sister for a moment, "Milady, pardon me, but I already think you're a few branches short of a hemlock. Go ahead."

"Let me just say I remember when Nosferatu first came out. Gave my cousin nightmares. Now it's the Exorcist, he still hasn't gotten over that one."

"I see. Where are we, anyway?"

"Downtown. My cousins and I run a bookstore downstairs."

"Really?" Rheas inquired, his interest perked.

"Yeah, used to do pretty well too, but then the commercial stores started coming in and--"

"Hey hey," a voice called as two figures clumped up the stairs down the hall lugging paper grocery bags, "look who bought the wine!"

"I couldn't stop him," one of them sighed as he set down his bags and strode into the sitting room. A large tan trenchcoat was worn over a white woolen sweater, its hood pulled up over his head. Pulling the hood down, he shook free long blonde hair and revealed pointed ears. If he truly was an elf, Rheas thought to himself as the newcomer removed his coat and tossed it in the corner, he was a well-built one, strong and handsome. His blue eyes were intelligent and firm like Hanathel's, but were also gentle and cheerful.

"What do you expect, I haven't been outside in over a month," retorted the second, striding in after his cousin. This one also wore a trenchcoat, but it was, at the moment, hidden from view underneath what appeared to be an enormous black poncho, held tame by a cord tied around his waist. Gloved hands pulled back the plastic hood revealing black skin, cunning red eyes, and long silvery hair.

"Drow!" Rheas breathed in awe, staring up at the Dark Elf.

The second male's red gaze switched as quickly as a snake's strike and landed on Rheas. He looked the boy up and down a moment before he said softly, almost pleasantly, "Well, give the kid a cookie, he's the first to get it. The first try too…" The Drow advanced upon Rheas coolly, cautiously, Rheas could almost picture a cat stalking a feeding bird. Leaning forward, red eyes trying to break through the mirrors of the gold, the Drow whispered, "You're not one of those scary-ass fantasy buffs, are you?"

There was challenge here, subtly laced in the Dark Elf's eyes, but Rheas would not waver under it. He replied curtly, "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

Hanathel laughed.

Drawing back, the Drow ignored Rheas and began to unwind the cord from his waist.

"You like my new coat, Hana?"

"It's a poncho, deary, not your style. Take it back."

"Hey kiddo, you feeling better?" asked the blonde Elf in a friendly fashion as he began to pull off his sweater, revealing a grey tee shirt underneath.

"I am down here, am I not?" Rheas answered flatly.

"A simple yes would have sufficed," muttered the blonde.

Hanathel turned her attention back to Rheas and smiled, unmistakably friendly. "I'm doing it again. Let me introduce you to my cousins," she waved her arm towards the two, first the blonde and then the Drow, "Elithantos and Unithalus. Eli, Uni, say hello to Rheas Madison."

"Hello," said Elithantos, extending his hand to Rheas, "glad to be of service."

"The cord's caught…" was all Unithalus had to say as he tried to untie the cord from about his waist.

"Uh…hi," Rheas replied lamely as he took Elithantos' offered hand. The Elf's smile broadened as he clasped Rheas' hand in his own and shook it firmly. Rheas felt something cold pressed to his palm and drew back when Elithantos released him. In his hand lay his pewter claw necklace.

"Thank you," he said to the Elf, "I…didn't even notice it was missing…"

"So Hana, what's for dinner?" Unithalus interjected, whipping out a knife and cutting the cords loose.

"How should I know?" she muttered, gathering up her cards and shuffling them absently, "It's your night to cook."

"No, I cooked last night."

"That was me," sighed Elithantos, poking his cousin.

The Drow shrugged. "Well, in my opinion, I believe Hana should cook dinner, since it was her idea," he pointed to Rheas, "to bring that home anyway."

"He's not a 'that'," Hanathel quipped defensively before Rheas could say anything. She crossed her arms and said proudly, "He's a Rheas."

The two males glared at their cousin in annoyance; she was not helping solve the dinner issue. Rheas slumped in his chair resting his cheek in his hand.

"Yeah, that's me. Creamy peanut butter covered in chocolate."

The three Elves stared at him as though surprised to see him still there.

"Oh he's a funny one," Unithalus said blandly, "He thinks he funny. Well I like him, you can bring more of these home then if they're funny."

"Cute, Uni." Elithantos shook his head.

"Listen," Rheas snapped, pushing out the chair and standing in one fluid motion. He regretted the move as the world tilted under him. He shook his head once and the world righted itself. "I appreciate what you've done for me, despite my words, so I'll just take whatever the hell's left of my clothes and I'll leave you in peace. I hope to repay you someday but right now I can't so I'll just go."

"Where are you going to go?" Hanathel inquired, amusement in her large eyes.

"I don't know…it doesn't matter…"

"And then what? You don't have any money, any food, any change of clothes. You just gonna rat your way through the streets? Boy, there are places far worse than this!"

"I know."

She sat there then, pressing her own words into his mind with her eyes alone, and for the first time in his life, Rheas broke eye contact first and looked away. His mind hurriedly worked through his inventory of retorts, but he found none appropriate to the current situation, only silence. He suddenly hated the voice of reason then.

"Can you cook?"

"What?" Rheas turned and looked up at Unithalus, towering above him at well over six feet.

"What, you deaf too? I said can you cook?"

"Basics…"

Elithantos moved next to his cousin and gazed down at Rheas. "Like what?"

"…Macaroni, spaghetti, brownies…" Rheas listed flatly. He paused, suddenly seeing where this was going.

"Good." Unithalus shrugged and scuffled Rheas' ear-length hair, "You can cook dinner! I guess that means you'll be staying the night."

"I don't think…"

"Of course you don't, else you wouldn't be here now would you? Listen, mein Freund, you say you want to repay us. That's fine, I'd prefer it that way myself, so here's is your start. Cook us dinner. Aside from that, you just had the Scheisse beaten out of you and were left in the rain for who knows how long. I don't think you're going anywhere tonight. Might as well feed me."

Rheas stared at the Drow a minute questioningly. "Where are you from?"

"Alabama."

"Right……Very well, you're right, you all are. I'll stay, I guess. Just for tonight, and then I'm moving on."

Satisfied, Hanathel began dealing out cards to herself and Rheas. "That's good, because your clothes are still being washed anyway. Eli, why don't you show Rheas the store? If you want to, of course," she added to Rheas, "Do you like books?"

"Very much."

"Sweet, 'cause we have hundreds," Elithantos beamed, "Come along then, if you want. I have to work anyway, and it gets very dull down there."

Rheas nodded to the blonde and then, turning back to Hanathel, bobbed his head awkwardly in parting.

"There're some slippers by the stair," she called after him as he followed Elithantos down the hallway, "you may need them." When both Elf and boy had vanished down the wide steps to the lowest floor, Unithalus swept over to his cousin, standing beside her as she rose to her feet.

"Is that who I think it is?" he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who else?" Hanathel replied, facing the Drow, a crooked smile on her face.

"Well now," he mused, looking down the hall where Rheas had disappeared from view, "Fate must finally be turning a good eye toward us, to drop the perfect little key right into our laps!" He almost sounded impressed.

Hanathel's eyes narrowed, gazing into Unithalus' red ones piercingly. "He's mine Uni, you hear me?"

"I hear you well enough," he chuckled, holding up his hands as though to placate her and prove his innocence, "But don't take too long, or you may lose him."

"Don't worry, he's as good as mine."

"Who's worrying? Anyway," he sighed, pulling at his poncho disdainfully, "I'm gonna go…make curtains outta this or something."

Hanathel selected a random card from the piles spread on the table. "Have fun dear," she said as Unithalus stalked up the stairway. Shrugging, she turned the card and smiled at the ace of hearts.

"Wow…when you said books, I thought you meant…normal books."

"These are normal books. Anything considered otherwise we hoard upstairs."

"But these are one-of-a-kinds, antiques, original printings…"

"We have hand-bound in the back."

"How…where did all these come from?"

"We collect them over the years. We're older than we look."

"Do tell…" Rheas murmured absently, running his fingers over the seemingly never-ending books bound in heavy leather.

"I would, but it might take all day," Elithantos chuckled as he followed Rheas between the shelves.

The three had owned and lived above the small shop for over a decade. For the most part it was very plain and basic with nothing but the endless shelves of books and occasional scrolls from who-knew-where. The most decorated objects in the store were the cashier and the large windows that matched those upstairs in size, decorated by the shop's name written in fancy cursive.

La Tre Luna: Rare Books and Scrolls

Wandering through the aisles between the shelves, Rheas was slightly surprised to discover that the books had apparently not been organized in a long time. Titles and genres were mixed up, as though hastily stuffed back into any shelf. He found that odd, and even odder still that he found himself thinking it was very unlike these three. He had barely known them but a few minutes, but he could already see that they were more like the kind to fuss if they discovered dog-ears in their paperbacks. And yet, they had a strange laziness laid over them, like a relaxing weekend that never ended. They ran a bookstore; the rest was finding a way to kill time.

Elithantos left him to explore and flopped down in the office chair behind the old-fashioned cash machine (the kind that 'dinged', to Rheas' pleasure), spinning around once and then settling down with what appeared to be a Dutch dictionary, mouthing words to himself. Curious, Rheas walked over to the cluttered cashier and studied the multitude of items that lay askew on its surface.

Beside the old cash machine sat a computer, flashing images of various flora as a screensaver. The mouse had been painted in likeness of a true mouse with nail polish, the result of a very bored female elf with nothing to do. A reading lamp with wind chimes hanging from it sat beside a portable fan, the breeze causing the chimes to ring when the fan's head rotated to them every now and again. Amongst the various papers, most of which were covered in doodles or notes in French or German, was a toy mallet that squeaked when you hit it on the desk. Elithantos pointed out to Rheas that it belonged to Unithalus.

Piles of books lay behind the desk, some of which, Rheas noted, had magazines stuffed in their pages. These, also belonging to Unithalus, were known as the 'happy books'. Rheas left it at that, having once discovered Cameron's supply of personal magazines behind the toilet. On top of one of the piles sat a rubber ducky with a miniature pointed blue hat with stars and moons printed on it atop its head.

"Your books are out of place," Rheas stated, turning a snowglobe from the desk in his hands, "volumes three and five of The Fall of the Roman Empire should not be mixed with Shakespeare, and Einstein should not share a shelf with The Odyssey."

"I agree with you," Elithantos replied good-naturedly, lowering his book a moment, "We used to get more customers. They'd come and browse through the books, even if they weren't buying. I guess some people have issues with putting things back where they belong. We'd organize them every month or so then, but now…Well, I think it was Hana's turn to do the books, but she never did, so neither Uni or I fixed them, and so forth. I think they've been that way for five years now."

"You don't get as many customers anymore because of the commercial businesses, correct?"

"Bingo. We do get the occasional collector, and they're more likely to actually buy something anyway. You'd be surprised how many people we get in here looking for a bathroom though. Once this crazy kid actually hid in here from bullies, and then ran off with one of my best books!"

"And you live off the profits of this shop alone?"

"No, no. We managed to snake some money off our parents when we ran, enough to start us off. We've managed from there. Ever seen that movie Highlander? Yeah, we've been doing something like that with our money for some time. You'd have to ask Hana, she deals with the money issues."

"I notice you do not share Uni's accent. He can't be from Alabama," Rheas stressed, mostly to himself. Elithantos shrugged and set down his book.

"Oh he is, born and raised. He went to Germany…1921, I think. Didn't come home until 1948…"

"Caught in the war?"

"Oh yeah, he's got some horror stories that make my skin crawl. Just talking about it makes him uncomfortable, and that's a very hard thing to do. He went back sometime in the seventies, looking for something I can guess, and he didn't find it, judging how pissed he was when he came home. We took our time after that, moving across the country, and finally settled here in the eighties."

"So you do not stay together all the time then?"

"We separate when things start getting dire; war, depression, disco…"

"I see. You lead interesting lives."

"Only when they're summarized, I'm afraid. Anyone's life is dull when stretched out to their true length."

"Dull and unpleasant."

"Exactly."

"And what of your accent?"

Elithantos paused, gazing at Rheas quizzically. "I have an accent?"

"When you talk at length."

The Elf waved his slender hand absently. "When Uni went back to Europe, Hana and I went as well, but went our separate ways from there. I lived in France for those years."

"It's not a French accent."

"It's the damn southern one then, isn't it?"

Rheas nodded wordlessly.

"Gods curse it," Elithantos grumbled, snatching up his book once more, "the more I try to suppress it, the more obvious it becomes…"

"Where are you from?"

"Mississippi."

"And Hana?"

"New York." He winked at Rheas suddenly, a sly grin on his face, "If you get her angry enough you can hear the accent."

Rheas nodded once more, and then left Elithantos to his studying. Storing away the newly gathered information to the depths of his mind, he turned away to entertain himself. There were more books to explore and scrolls to read, afterall.

Despite being a Saturday, the shop closed sometime after noon, leaving the rest of the day open to the three Elves. Elithantos, having had a good fifteen-minute catnap, trotted down the thin and elegant stair to the living room. Unithalus sat on the soft couch, his eyes glued to the screen of the television as he unconsciously tossed crackers into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Elithantos inquired his cousin, hands on hips in a stern manner.

"Watching the tele," the Drow sighed, his eyes not moving from the screen.

"I can see that--"

"Then why did you ask?"

"--but why don't you go do something productive?"

"Like what?"

"It's a beautiful day, you could go out and…!" began Elithantos, sweeping his arm to the windows that revealed the sunny streets outside.

"Then why don't you go out in it, surface dweller?" The jibe served more as a reminder than an insult, one Elithantos brushed off like dirt.

"Well, anything is better than sitting before this damn box all day."

"Why?"

"Because it's emotionless, two-dimensional, degrading and down right evil and…that could be why you're watching it then…" then blonde mused, immediately calming himself with logic.

"Gut kombiniert, Holmes. Now be quiet, John's about to propose to Mary."

"Really?" Elithantos said, plopping down beside his cousin, who offered him his box of crackers, "but I thought they were siblings!"

"Oh, they are. But they don't know that yet."

"They're going to be so heartbroken."

"That's what I'm hoping for."

The two sat through the remainder of the soap opera in silence, absently selecting crackers from the box that sat between them.

Upstairs, Rheas lay on the bed deemed his for the night, hands clasped behind his head as he gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought. What kind of situation had he honestly thrown himself into? First night out and he could've been dead. And somehow, he had the strange feeling that the Elves finding him was no coincidence. Well, he thought, if I ever see that bastard again, I'll rip him a new asshole myself.

"Yeah," he snarled bitterly at himself, "and how about I go back in time while I'm at it? Bah, what could I do? God, I hate large men…"

He suddenly found himself entertaining the thought of Cameron pounding on his attacker, ripping him to shreds, defending his little brother…

Never. He'd never tell anyone about this, especially not his brother. What would Cameron care anyway? He'd prefer to forget it himself, but it wasn't like he could.

"I was mugged. Nothing more, nothing less. Had I been born only a few months later, I could probably do anything Cameron could! But no…" He rolled over, his back to the window. Knowing his luck, his mother had been doing drugs when she had him. It would explain a lot, afterall. This wretched body of his, weak as it was, was almost useless in times of defense, or any other activity that involved movement, he thought with a smirk.

Still, considering all the crap that this husk he inhabited had been through, it was holding up surprisingly well. Ah well, what did that really matter to him now? He had other things to think about. Where would he go tomorrow morning? His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Yes?"

"Hello," Hanathel said cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Rheas rolled over and smiled in spite of himself. "You don't have to knock."

"One should always knock before entering another's room you barbarian."

"It's your house."

"But it's your room now, see?" She pulled the door open fully so he could see. On the door, a piece of tape had been stuck on, the name "Rhease" written on it. "Eli did it. He likes people, so I think he's a little excited that you're here. We don't get visitors, you see."

"Well, he's the closest to ever spelling my name right, so I don't care."

"'Close'? Damn, he got it wrong?"

"Drop the 'e'."

"Right, I'll tell him. That is a bit weird though."

"Shut up."

"No, no, I like it. Anyway, my cousins and I have put in our votes for dinner, and I've come to report them."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Eli requested tacos, but Uni said if he never ate Mexican again, it would be too soon and demands crepes of all things. I myself am in something of a spaghetti mood, and I recall you mentioning you could make that. It's your decision from there."

"I think I shall abide by your wish and cook some spaghetti."

Beaming, Hanathel turned and began to shut the door behind her, but not before Rheas heard her shout down the hall:

"Haha, you worms! He's picked me over you!"

Wow, I actually like this chapter. Rheas and Hanathel hit it off so well in their first scene, the quickest part I ever wrote. Again, I'll mention I'm always a little tense with the whole rape-thing. At one point I dropped it and decided Rheas was just going to get mugged and beaten up. But then I realized it made the perfect power-issue to push him over the edge. I don't know if this is true, but I've heard that one of the reasons rape is so traumatizing is because of the power issue. For Rheas, being helpless like that was murder. Okay, just thought I'd explain that.
Answering reviews:
SJ: Hell, you know just to ask and I'll babble on about anything you want to know ^-^
RaistlinofMetallica: No updates? Oh well, you do have a life, afterall.
WEIRDKitten/wWingz: uh…right…I can't…kill Rheas…(whistles innocently)
Pmacca01: who or what is donnie darko?
Dark Phoenix: ah yes, the gals. Well, for one thing, many people I know call me sexist, I don't think so, I'm trying for realism, and, though I hate to admit it, most girls I know would have screamed a lot more than they did! But really, despite my wanting to avoid it, some of the characters got rather stereotypical highschool roles. Cameron's obviously the dumb jock, Rheas is the Geek, and Laura is a blond cheerleader, for some examples. And while I hope the characters will develop as the story progresses, much as they did in the books, for now, they will scream and run from skunks.
Raistlin: No, Imare' is none of those. Sorry ^^;;
Again, thanks to everyone, this has become my egostroke story, it seems. haha. One question, though. What is "canon"? I see it used all over the internet and I haven't a clue what it means.
Until next time! (maybe then we'll have the philosophical meanderings…)

Chapter 16 : "those who swing-dance, and those who rave…"