Sorry for disappearing there for a while. First, my boss assigned me an undergrad for the summer and gave that poor boy an impossible project that has maybe a 0.1% chance of working. Then my own project took a sudden nosedive and I had to figure out what to do about it. And then, after being perfectly fine the entire winter, I suddenly developed a rather bad case of a cold. These are obviously just excuses, but the point is that I really am sorry. In any case, here is the next chapter. All the previous disclaimers apply. Enjoy.

Chapter 4

When Ianto woke up, the sunlight was pouring into the room through the cloudy material of the window. The first thing he noticed was the lack of pain in the shoulder. He lifted his left arm and flexed the fingers experimentally. Everything seemed to be in working order. Shifting the arm to the side brought about a sharp pang of pain, but that was not too surprising. The shoulder seemed to be healing well, and he just had to avoid putting excessive strain on it for the next couple of days.

Looking up, Ianto saw that both the raven and the perch were gone. Apparently, Lesha'Kaladrals were trusted enough to be left without avian supervision. On the one hand, that was clearly a good sign; on the other hand, with the bird there, he did not have to feel so completely bonkers while talking essentially to himself.

Glancing at the night table next to the bed, Ianto noticed the raft-like tray with a bowl, a wooden spoon, a teapot, a cup, and the same kind of vial as the one Kethra had given him the night before. Suddenly feeling ravenous, he reached eagerly towards the food, which turned out to be a kind of porridge. The bowl was still warm, and he wondered if the sound of the young man leaving was what had originally awakened him. Years of being forced to eat disgusting half-sweet, half-salty globs of porridge as a child made Ianto more than a little antipathetic towards this dish. However, either he was extremely hungry, or the tartness of the little red berries mixed into the food ended up complementing it very nicely, because the entire bowl-full was gone in no time.

After drinking some herbal tea, Ianto contemplated the vial. He did not want to go back to sleep. On the other hand, the vial being served with breakfast might indicate that it did not contain the sedative. Then again, maybe he was only left unguarded because his captor expected him to sleep. There were other considerations as well. Although Ianto did not doubt Kethra's good intentions, she was used to treating the alien inhabitants of this world, who might have some peculiar aspects of physiology that would render some medicines harmless to them in a way they would not be to an Earthling, no matter how similar to him the natives seemed. Weighing against this notion was the fact that so far, the medicines he had taken not only did not cause any obvious side effects, but actually brought about an almost miraculously fast recovery. After mulling the pros and cons for a while, Ianto finally unscrewed the vial and downed the contents in one big gulp. It tasted slightly better now than the night before, and he was left with a hope that it was actually something different.

While waiting to feel the signs of the possible sedative, Ianto decided to take a look around. Getting out of bed, he was immediately confronted with the fact that he was wearing only his boxers. Apparently, the young man had stripped him while putting him into bed. It made sense, really, since most of his clothing was probably covered in blood, but Ianto felt highly uncomfortable with the idea of being touched by a stranger. His own apparel had disappeared, but some other garments had taken its place on the back of the chair. Those turned out to be a green-brown vest with an embroidered leaf pattern and a pair of soft leather breeches. Ianto felt weird putting on the vest without a shirt, but then he was not sure how he could have fit a shirt over the bandage even if one had been provided. The only items of his own clothing that remained were his shoes. Perhaps, the young man did not have an appropriate size that he could lend him, or maybe the shoes were the only things that survived the monster's attack.

Once fully clothed, Ianto felt ready to look around. After he fell asleep the night before, his captor apparently undertook at attempt to clean up the place, which involved picking up all the rubbish from the floor and dumping it back on top of the dresser. Ianto sighed. Clearly, neatness was not the young man's forte. Arrows, knives, strange hook-like weapons, and ropes lay intermixed with the ornaments Ianto had seen the night before and his own stuff. He had to revise his opinion about the young man living with a wife or a girlfriend. No marginally self-respecting woman would willingly dwell in this dump, and besides, judging from the older man's attire, these people had no cultural qualms with men wearing jewelry. Granted, his captor looked positively drably in comparison to yesterday's visitors, but even he might feel the need to dress up on occasion.

Since the gun was still nowhere to be found, Ianto had no use for the holster, and the wallet contained only the Earth currency mostly of the plastic variety, which doubtless, would do him little good here. Instead of wasting his time with either of those items, Ianto pocketed the lighter he had bought just in case Torchwood's temporary shelter lacked electricity and put on his watch. The latter held more of a sentimental value. Jack gave it to him for his last birthday, and after surviving an explosion, a death, a teleportation to another world, and an attack by a reptilian hound from hell, the hardy device was miraculously still ticking. Apparently, it was currently 11:27, and Ianto reckoned that he would have to adjust the time once he figures it out for himself.

Securing the watch on his wrist, Ianto noticed a spectacular object that must have been too large for the raven to carry, because it certainly did not qualify as a weapon. It was a mask made out of feathers and artistically decorated with flowing strips of satin-like material and tiny gems. Digging through the pile of stuff on the dresser, he fished out two other such masks, both decorated with intricate flowery or leafy designs, partially engraved into the wood and partially embroidered into the silk, which was stretched over the wooden base. None of these pieces would have looked out of place in an art museum, and Ianto thought that the carelessness the young man showed by dumping them in the midst of the other junk was nearly criminal. He carefully set them on the chair before turning towards the curtain.

The other room was very similar in size and décor. It housed a large table cluttered with random cutlery, caldrons, and knives, two huge cupboards with similar cookware haphazardly arranged on the shelves in no discernable order, several huge wooden trunks, three chairs, the raven's perch, and an enormous vat of water with a big earthenware jar inside. Taking the lid off the jar, Ianto saw two freshly killed creatures with long rabbit-like ears, squirrel-like bodies, and naked, rat-like tails. He had a strong suspicion that the animals were going to end up on tonight's dinner menu. In one corner of the room, he also noticed a thin sleeping pallet carelessly pushed out of the way towards a wall. No wonder the young man seems so peeved at having me here, Ianto thought, resolving to insist on switching places as soon as he could communicate that wish to his host.

The most astonishing part of this room's interior was the absence of any doorways other that the one that led back to the bedroom. Wrecking his brain for a little while, Ianto finally noticed a trapdoor in the floor almost completely covered with some sort of a rope. What is it with men in my life and their passion for trapdoors? However, remembering the weird sounds that preceded and followed his host's appearance and disappearance, Ianto realized that their oddity lay precisely in coming from somewhere below. On the other hand, if this really was the only entrance into the young man's adobe, he found it quite difficult to evoke the bizarre image of yesterday's dignified visitors somehow climbing up into the attic through a hole in the floor.

Since no signs of a sedative manifested so far, Ianto reckoned that it would be fairly safe to climb down and see if he could find any other people. He lifted the trapdoor and was startled to see a patch of grass some four or five yards below. He had thought that the rooms were located in an attic, but apparently, the young man lived in a very large tree house. The rope that had covered the trapdoor before turned out to be a rope ladder fastened to the wall via a metal bar. Ianto threw it down, wondering how the young man managed to leave without using it and how he expected to get back into the tree house with it still coiled up on the floor.

Not being able to rely on one of his hands made climbing down more onerous than it would have been otherwise. Once his feet were once again firmly planted upon the ground, though, Ianto finally had the leisure to look around and found himself in the middle of the forest. The loud chattering of the birds, the tinkling of a stream somewhere to the right, and the buzz of a lone bee as it flew lazily by his shoulder seemed to be the only sounds for miles around. Of course, there would be bloody no one around. What do I need other people for?

Gazing up, Ianto saw that the tree house was well masked by the branches of the huge tree, but was still pretty visible to someone who knew about its existence. He wondered what drove the young man to live in such a secluded place. Maybe, he was naturally a hermit, in which case Ianto's presence disturbed him in more ways than one, or maybe he was an exile and would welcome some company (although yesterday's visitors made this possibility less likely). Finally, this could be a temporary seclusion, sort of like a trial period of living on one's own in order to prove one's manhood.

Since no definite answer was forthcoming without finding a way to communicate with the host himself, Ianto set aside this line of thought for later and made his way to the stream, carefully memorizing the way. The brook was tiny, but the fast-running, cold water seemed clean and clear, and Ianto took an opportunity to relieve himself behind one of the bushes and then wash up properly for the first time in goodness knows how many days. He flushed uncomfortably, thinking about what the young man must have had to do for him during the days he could not take care of his own business. Ianto felt a rush of gratefulness towards his host, ready to excuse his complete lack of manners.

Feeling much better after the wash, Ianto sat down on a stone facing the stream, and considered his current situation. He had to find a way to repay the young man for his hospitality, but most importantly, he needed to convince the host to either let him stay or to introduce him to other people, since Ianto clearly could not survive on his own. Both of these goals could potentially be accomplished at the same time if he made himself useful in some indispensable way.

Coming to a decision, Ianto got up, gathered a few fresh-fallen twigs, and holding them in his teeth, climbed back into the tree house. After sweeping the floor, he stripped the sheets from both the bed and the sleeping pallet and dumped them down the trapdoor. He washed the linen in the stream and left it to dry in the sun in the small clearing to the left of the tree. Once back in the tree house, Ianto set himself a task of putting everything in some kind of order. Cleaning was the one thing he knew better than well and could be almost obsessive-compulsive about. When he was a child, it was an actual compulsion, as a messy room had the potential of bringing about a very real punishment. Later, during his rebellious teenage years, he made it his goal to be as much of a slob as other people around him, so by the time he met Lisa, he could pass himself fairly easily as an average bloke. When he came to work for Torchwood 3, though, cleaning became a part of his daily duties, and he found himself easily slipping back into the compulsive need for neatness.

Hanging the masks on the walls with an air of a finishing touch, Ianto turned to admire his work. It was truly amazing how much more like a home the tree house felt after all the random objects strewn about every available surface found their own proper places. Ianto found a large basket, tied a rope to its handle, used it to pull up the dried linen, and remade both the bed and the sleeping pallet. With nothing else to do, he felt at loose ends for a little while before remembering the dead rodents. Maybe if he prepared dinner, the young man would be more inclined to keep him around.

Searching through the trunks for something else to cook, Ianto discovered a variety of different nuts, fruits, and vegetables as well as a few jars of dried herbs. Since most of them did not resemble anything he was familiar with, he found himself tasting pretty much everything and somewhat at random deciding what might go well with the meat. Choosing a few of the probable vegetables and spices, he put them and a jar of salt into a caldron, lowered all of it onto the ground, and was about to climb down himself when a lone earthenware container wedged between a wall and one of the trunks caught his eye. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Ianto opened the lid and felt himself swept with wild glee. For there, in the dark depth of the jar, lay a wonder he had thought lost to him forever—coffee beans. After gazing at them for a moment, he burst into a fit of uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. If a more portentous good omen existed, he honestly could not think of one.

When Ianto finally got a grip on himself, he climbed down once again. In a few steps from the tree, he had seen a shallow hole in the ground where a few green twigs were strategically placed to cover a mound of ashes. Ianto removed the twigs and set up a fire with some dry firewood he had gathered from around the area. Soon, a caldron of vegetables and cleaned rodent meat was boiling over the flame. Ianto saved the animals' entrails for the raven and dumped the skins as far away from the tree house as he dared to go, not wishing to attract the attention of any predators. Returning to the fire, he allowed himself a moment to rest and stare at the flames in a pleasant trance-like state. According to the watch, it was now well past four o'clock, and Ianto felt knackered, but content with the accomplished tasks. It was a good place for a fire, with the thick canopy dispersing most of the smoke. Ianto felt safe and at peace, closing his eyes to better savor the calming sound of the crackling branches in the flame.

He must have drifted off for an hour or two because the next thing he knew, dusk started settling over the forest as the sun approached the western horizon. Berating himself for his carelessness in falling asleep in front of an unattended fire in the midst of a dangerous wilderness, Ianto quickly got up to check on the caldron. The flames have long since died down, and only a few coals remained to keep the food from getting cold. Ianto tasted the stew and found the meat and the vegetables well-cooked and the spices pleasantly strong and aromatic. Altogether, the dish reminded him quite a bit of a curry, and he lamented the absence of rice to go along with it.

Managing to pull the caldron up into the tree house in the basket, Ianto lit a few candles before grinding up coffee beans with a mortar and a pestle and transporting the resulting powder back down. He used a metal kettle to brew coffee over the remaining coals and then poured some water from the stream over the fire site and covered the ashes again with the green twigs. Returning to the tree house, Ianto pulled up the rope ladder and closed the trapdoor. For one thing, it was probably safer this way, but he also wanted to see how the young man planned on getting up into his adobe. Ianto set the table and settled down to wait.

About an hour later, he heard loud cawing, and in a moment, the raven flew in through a hole right under the ceiling that Ianto had not noticed before. Pausing a moment on the perch, it screeched a greeting and gazed around with curiosity as if taking in the change in the surroundings. Then the bird jumped on the floor next to the trapdoor, took one end of the rope ladder into its beak and pushed it out through a slit opening between the door and the rest of the floor. Ianto, who had half-expected his host to use some sort of telekinesis or even teleportation, barely had time to register disappointment before the trapdoor opened, and the young man climbed in with enviable speed and agility.

Catching sight of the changes to his tree house, the native stood up slowly and silently looked around. His face was impossible to read, and Ianto found himself growing more uncertain with each passing minute, wondering if he committed a serious mistake with his impromptu cleaning project. He tried to think about how he would have reacted if a guest completely reorganized his Cardiff flat and started to get really worried. Finally, the silence became too much to endure, and Ianto jumped to his feet and said, gesturing towards the table, "Zhai'helleva. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong, but please, come and share some food that I have prepared for us."

Slowly, step by step, the young man traversed the three-foot distance from the trapdoor to the table and sat down. Encouraged by this, Ianto picked up a bowl, filled it with the stew from the caldron, and set it and a spoon in front of the host before preparing a similar bowl for himself. The raven flitted off the perch and onto the young man's shoulder, cawing in an insistent tone. The native looked around uncertainly, and Ianto hastened to reassure him, "I left something for your bird, too," accompanying his words with fetching a bowl of entrails out of the vat of water. The young man gazed at him silently for a moment and then turned to the bird, offering it a bit of raw meat. Only when the raven refused to take one more bite, did the host reach for his own spoon.

They ate in awkward silence, with the young man gazing up at Ianto from time to time with a nervous look on his face, but then quickly looking back down again. After he finished the first bowl, Ianto asked him if he wanted more, gesturing at the caldron. The young man looked uncertain for a moment, shifting his gaze from his guest to the food and then back again, but then nodded his assent. After the second bowl, he started to get up, but Ianto quickly waved him back to his seat and instead poured him a mug of coffee. The heavenly aroma filled the room, and the young man stared up at him with shock and something else in his eyes. For a second, Ianto was afraid that this was another faux pas, but then the host lifted the mug and gingerly took a sip of the coffee. His eyes closed, and he sighed with obvious bliss.

A moment later, the young man opened his eyes again, resolutely put the mug down on the table, and looked directly at Ianto. "Chava," he said, pointing at the black, aromatic liquid within, his voice loud and jarring after such a long silence. Ianto almost laughed, so similar did the word sound to the English "java." "Chava," he repeated instead, and apparently taking that as a sign of encouragement, the young man held up a spoon and said, "Livan."

"Livan," Ianto echoed, filing the new words in his memory for safekeeping.

"Pundra," the host said and pointed to the now empty bowl.

"Pundra," Ianto repeated.

The raven, bored with this new game, flapped its wings a little and flew back to the perch. The young man pointed in its direction and said, "Kreel."

The bird cawed loudly and tilted its head, so Ianto got the impression that this was its actual name rather than a generic word for a raven. "Kreel," he repeated and was immediately rewarded with Kreel jumping off the perch, making a circle around the room, and settling on the back of the unoccupied chair.

The young man smiled, and then with a startled look like he had forgotten something important, he turned back to Ianto, pointed at himself and said, "Kash'tan."

Nodding, Ianto likewise pointed at his own chest and replied, "Ianto."

For a moment, they both sat stock-still, looking at each other with a kind of newfound understanding, as if this primitive introduction had opened a Pandora's box of communication, and neither of them was certain how to proceed. Finally, the young man lowered his gaze and, looking at something in the very corner of the room, barely whispered, "Gestenna."

Ianto was not sure if that meant "I'm sorry" or "thank you", but for now, it did not really matter.