A/N: It's been a while, huh? Honestly, this chapter just wasn't working for me, so I put it on the back burner to let it marinate for a while and focused on other projects. When I came back in to check on it, I realized that there wasn't much work to be done on it. It's weird how that happens sometimes. Hopefully now that we're headed toward the holiday season, my brain will want to focus on this a little more. I did some editing today on future chapters, and things should be picking up plot-wise. Enjoy!

*EDIT* I hit the weirdest snag just before posting this. The chapter I originally picked for it, apparently I've already used! I had to scramble to find a new one, but I like it so no big deal.


Chapter 17: Our Endless, Numbered Days

"What's the elvish word for hula hoop?"

"I don't think we have those in Elbereth."

"Baseball bat?"

"I don't think so."

"What's the elvish word for 'crazy straw?'" asked Bernard persistently, taking a sip out of his drink.

"We don't have those in Elbereth either," said Lydia, grinning. She and Bernard sat together, cozy in their easy companionship. For the last hour or so, Bernard had grilled her about the Elvish language. Linguistics had never been an interest of his, but the lyrical words and phrases that flowed like smoke and wind and music out of Lydia's mouth enchanted him. Of course, the opportunity to tease her was too tempting to pass up. But his favorite was when she bounced it back again, like a friendly game of tennis, and she always proved a formidable, if friendly, adversary.

"Man, this Elbereth place is starting to sound like a real bummer."

"I'd love to take you there," said Lydia, leaning into his arm.

"That'd be great! Then I can introduce them to crazy straws and hula hoops."

"Not to mention baseball."

"Yeah, we could form a team of baseball-playing wood elves, then we could have a game with our elves and cream them."

"That doesn't sound very sporting," said Lydia, grinning.

"It's all part of the experience. Culture sharing and all that."

"You'd be a real anthropologist."

"Does that mean I get a fancy hat?"

"Fancier than that?" said Lydia, gesturing toward his beret.

"I'll have you know, this is casual work wear for me," insisted Bernard.

"Maybe we can find you a pith helmet."

Bernard contemplated this for a moment.

"What's the elvish word for pith helmet?"

"Finally!" groused Quinton as he walked up to join them. "I was beginning to think you would never figure it out."

Bernard narrowed his eyes at his friend's exasperation. Coming up empty on a suitable comeback, he settled for glowering sinisterly at Quinton, an unspoken threat that left Quinton completely unfazed. Their staring contest continued until Lydia distracted Bernard by grabbing him by the chin and turning his head toward him for a kiss, a triumph on its own.

"What's this about you wearing a pith helmet?" said Quinton as he sat down across from them.

The first week or so since the battle had passed strangely. Bernard and Lydia's reconciliation had certainly done wonders for both their moods, but even that could not soothe the pain of Elrodan's passing. Grief gripped at Lydia's heart at intervals too arbitrary for her to prepare for them. In the spirit of his promise to her, Bernard remained by her side as often as he could. The wood elves were very subdued during this time. Lydia, and by extension Bernard, saw very little of Orëna, who spent nearly every waking hour in the infirmary with what remained of the wounded. She emerged one night and caught sight of Bernard and Lydia sitting closely together, chatting easily with Quinton. She grabbed a flagon of coffee and a leg of turkey, and though she did not stop to say hello, she caught their eye and gave them both a tired smile and a nod.

The novelty of Bernard and Lydia's reconciliation wore off quicker than he had suspected it would. His elves seemed to view it as something of an inevitability rather than a distant possibility. If anything, the wood elves were more taken aback by it. They had renewed their perplexed gazes, though Lydia now bore her own share of them. Now that they could hold a conversation, he told her about the wood elves' stares and asked her if she had any idea what they were all about.

"I did notice," she said. "But I haven't a clue why they do it."

Eventually the stares dwindled again. The wood elves had kept mostly to themselves in the aftermath of the battle. Either they were picking up debris outside or they were mourning quietly amongst themselves. If they preferred to tend to their sorrow in private, the younger elves would have none of it. Neither the industrious nor the gregarious sides of their nature would allow the wood elves to be alone now. At first they simply pitched in to clean up the debris under the logic that this was their home and therefore their responsibility. Judy and Abby went down with refreshments even more often. For their part, the wood elves seemed to welcome their comforting companionship.

The only one who remained away from the group now was Gilrohir. In fact, nobody seemed to know where he was most of the time. As before he had been the strictest of captains, constantly drilling the wood elves to prepare them for the very battle they had just fought, he seemed to have given up on them entirely. Bernard feared Gilrohir had taken to heart his own harsh words, for he was certainly leaving Lydia alone now. He left all of them alone.

"I'm very worried about him," Lydia confessed. "I've never seen him like this before."

"He'll be alright," said a husky voice. Orëna placed her flagon and plate on the table and sat beside Lydia. "I've seen to him."

"How is he?"

"About as well as you can expect. If he doesn't start acting like himself in the next week or so, I'll drag him back out by his ear. Right now all he needs is some space. He likes to think he's above feeling any sort of thing, but I know he's not."

She seemed inclined to continue, but instead she sighed and dragged a hand over her weary brow.

"All well in the infirmary, Orëna?" asked Quinton.

"Down to my last two," she replied with another tired smile. "I think they'll be ready to leave in the morning."

"Where would we be without you?" said Lydia.

"Up the river. I see you two have figured it out. Finally."

Orëna's entire demeanor toward Bernard had changed dramatically. He realized that her attitude toward him in the infirmary had been less the anger of the recently bereaved and more the disapprobation of an overprotective sibling, and suddenly he understood that he had greatly underestimated her closeness with Lydia. Now that they had reconciled, Orëna approached him warmly, as though there were a closeness between them that he could not remember cultivating. She felt somewhat like an older sibling who had gone off to college while he was still in grade school. It was as though they had a shared history he could not remember, though that couldn't be, could it? Perhaps that was simply the way of half-elf/half-dwarven ladies. This thought led him down a strange mental by-path until Quinton had nudged him sharply in the side and asked that he kindly join them in the present.

"What happens now, Orëna?" asked Quinton.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think he's gone?" Bernard asked, though he suspected that he already knew the answer.

"We can hope, but I doubt it. I'll bet he's out there biding his time, trying to regroup. He didn't wait hundreds of years to show his face only to scatter to the winds after a single defeat. The best we can do is lick our wounds and wait for a sign."

Orëna's words left a colder chill on Bernard's bones than the air outside. Deep down he knew that it was a foolish hope that it could all be over. Looking out at the elves, his elves, he knew he could not hide from them the gravity of their current situation. Not this time. He had been unsuccessful before anyway, and now they had witnessed the destruction with their own eyes. They worked with all the same diligence and cheer he had come to expect from them, but knowing them as he did, Bernard noted every anxious twitch, every nervous glance, and every startled jump at any noise that came too suddenly and too loud. Pressing all the closer to Lydia, he put his arm around her shoulder and tried to enjoy what little peace was left for them.


Meanwhile, Scott sat in his office alone. Normally, he would be out with the elves, all of them, enjoying their company and the cheerful atmosphere. But tonight, he lingered behind, delaying dinner and taking advantage of the quiet to finally allow his tumultuous thoughts to have their say. After a while, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Dad?"

"Hey, Charlie. How's it going?"

"Not bad. My Intro to Bio professor is trying to kill me though. We have to dissect a fetal pig for our midterm."

"Ew. Thanks for sharing. Any way for you to get out of that?"

"Not without failing the whole course, and I need the science cred for my degree. Maybe I can fake an asthma attack. What's new with you?"

"Um. Well, a lot."

Scott paused. How could he possibly update his son on the goings on at the Pole without sounding like an absolute lunatic?

"Well, Bernard's got himself a girlfriend."

"What? Really?"

Scott could hear Charlie's amused surprise in his tone.

"Yeah. Really," said Scott in his own tone which said 'Yeah I can't believe it either.'

"Who is she?"

"No-no one you know."

"I-what? How is there anyone up there I don't know?"

"Long. Long. Long. Story. Truth is, things are getting weird up here. I think you should probably just stay in school for now. I'll let you know when it's safe to visit."

"Safe? What do you mean, 'safe'? It's the North Pole. What could be happening up there that's not safe?"

"Even longer story."

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

Scott knew Charlie knew he was lying, but that was his story, and he intended to stick to it.

"Does this have anything to do with all that creepy serial killer info Audrey had me look up?" asked Charlie lightly. Scott felt like his chair had been pulled out from under him, and that an entire change jar's worth of pennies had dropped all at once.

"That was you?!"

Charlie chuckled a bit. "Yeah, that was me."

"So you're a hacker now?"

"What happened to 'he sees you when you're sleeping'?"

"Uh-huh, yeah, don't change the subject."

"Well maybe it was for the best, if it didn't put me on the Naughty List."

"True."

"Seriously, Dad. What's going on up there?"

Scott dug his knuckles into his eyes, letting the stars explode in the darkness, and willed himself not to answer.

"I'll tell you later. I promise. I just wanted to check in."

There was a long pause. He could tell Charlie wanted to push but thought better of it.

"Ok, Dad."

"I love you, Charlie," said Scott. He had never meant it more in his life.

"I love you too, Dad. I'll talk to you later. And tell Bernard I want details on this girlfriend of his."

A short laugh escaped him, and Scott felt some of the tension and fear leave with it.

"Will do. Bye now."

Charlie said his own goodbyes and hung up. Scott wondered if he ought to have told Charlie more, maybe even everything. But more than anything, he had wanted to hear his son's voice.

While I still have the chance….


A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this, but I thought a nice breather chapter was called for. The next one will have a lot more going on. I hope September is treating you well!

Title from "Passing Afternoon" by Iron & Wine