I woke up at the sound of footsteps and hurried whispering. Alarmed, I sat up–and immediately fell back. My head! Ow, ow, ow! I touched the top of my head expecting to find an axe, or at least an arrow or two, jammed in it. I was genuinely surprised when there was none. With a sigh, I sat up again, this time very slowly and checked the time at my cell phone. Seven eighteen. Whoever it was that woke me up at this inhuman hour on Saturday, was a dead man.

Of course, now that I was awake, I knew exactly who was to blame. I remembered everything, and I didn't doubt that it really happened. I've always been able to distinguish reality, however strange, from my dreams. Even if sometimes I'd prefer otherwise.

I got up, grabbed my clothes and dragged myself to the bathroom. To my surprise–I was not yet able to decide if it was a pleasant one or not–it wasn't frozen any more. Instead, it was a sauna, full of hot steam. But the floor was nice, dry and warm. It seemed water didn't leak down. One of my bosses from my previous jobs lives in the flat below me. It would be awkward to flood him... I guess.

Feeling slightly more alive and humanly, I went to see what my visitors were doing.

I politely knocked on the door of the bedroom, but there was no reply. After a moment of hesitation, I gathered the courage to peek in. The bedroom was empty. In my tiny flat it only leaved one option–well, unless they were both using a toilet, at the same time–they were in the kitchen. Which was much more terrifying option.

I returned to the living room, and found Airam there – looking most fantastic in jeans... why had nobody made a jeans mod for DAO? My boys need them!

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said with an awkward smile that screamed 'trouble'. "But, we wanted to prepare a breakfast, and..."

I groaned. "Please tell me you didn't set anything on fire. Or freeze."

He blushed. "No, no, don't worry. We, um, we didn't find the stove. Zev thinks that the–the– well you know, the thing in the larder–that it's probably some kind of a stove, but we couldn't figure out how to lit the fire..."

In the meantime, Zevran had managed to open the fridge and carefully checked and sniffed everything he found there. It had to be a depressing sight for him. I'm not exactly a vegetarian, but I don't eat salami, sausages and that kind of things often. My fridge is full of strawberry yoghurts, all kinds of cheese and vegetable.

I got the feeling that it made me even more suspicious in his eyes.

"All right," I sighed. "What do you normally eat for breakfast?"

"Porridge with dried fruit," replied Airam and smiled. "But we won't be offended if you give us anything else."

"Something like pancakes?" I suggested, and had to grin when I saw the poorly veiled bliss on their faces. "So pancakes it is. Give me just a minute–I need to take some painkiller, I have a terrible headache. Not enough sleep–what?"

They were both staring at me. "You need to take a killer?" Airam asked.

"Painkiller. A medicine. I'm having a headache so terrible I'm barely able to walk and talk at the same time."

"Maybe I can help?" Airam offered. "I know a bit of healing magic."

My sweet, dear brat. If I wasn't afraid Zev would misunderstand, I'd hug him.

oOo

The breakfast was more or less a success. Except I blabbered that Air's healing was so fantastic that I should keep them here. You can imagine Zev's glares at that. Luckily, the pancakes fixed that problem.

After we finished eating, I stuffed the dishes into the washer. I think of all things, that fascinated Zevran the most, although he, of course, pretended to be cool. As if he could fool me. Then again, he couldn't know who I am... yet. But he was determined to find out, and very soon.

The next hour was one of the most difficult in my whole life. How do you explain someone that they're not real and shouldn't exist? Imagine someone told you that you're not just a fictional character, but a fan version of a fictional character created by someone else? And that there are thousands of similar versions of you, but loving someone else?

It didn't seem like a good idea, to say that to an assassin. Fictional character or not, the daggers he had with him were very real. Perfectly polished and sharp, too.

So I lied. I decided it would be easier–and healthier–for all of us.

I told them that a few people in this world could see what was going on in Thedas, and could help and guide several chosen people in there. Giving them hints, about what was going to happen. Even that was quite upsetting for them, and I had to assure them that their decisions were always their own. Well, that at least wasn't a lie. I only point the way, but the decisions about what and how to do are always up to them. And I can't tell you how glad I was, at that moment, that I'm writing them this way.

Still, it wasn't easy for them to accept it. They wanted to know who are those people and why are they doing it. Are they all women–something like Andraste, Maker's brides? Why do the two of them have only one guide? And if I knew what would happen, why not tell them directly so they could avoid it?

"Because it wouldn't be interesting for readers" was hardly an answer I could give them.

I managed to answer all of it, though my answers didn't satisfy them, especially not Zev. Clever assassin like him couldn't be fooled by a few cheap tricks. But it had to do.

oOo

It was half past eleven already and I wasn't in the mood for cooking, so I decided we would go out. With caps on their heads that covered the tips of their ears, and with a lot of make up on Air's face, they looked like a two teenagers. Exceptionally good looking, perhaps, but human.

Zevran behaved like a spoiled multi-billionaire brat. He didn't know how to mark the ticket in the tram, because he never had to use one, before–such things were below him. His exotic accent made this impression even stronger. Airam, on the other hand, had a problem staying calm. He was fascinated with everything, and asked a lot of questions. And I mean A LOT.

The ticket marker, for example–we have a system where it stamps the date and the time on your ticket, and you can ride for either 15 minutes, or 1 hour, depending on which ticket you bought. Airam was watching it with enthusiasm every time someone put the ticket into it. How could it write? How could it know what time it was? Does that mean it has a mind? Is it controlled by a Fade spirit? Am I sure it's not? Absolutely, hundred percent sure? It can't turn into an abomination? That would be fun to watch!

And that was just the ticket. Let me say here that I really admire Zevran's patience.

We had a quick lunch in a restaurant where my elderly boss goes for steaks–he says it's the only place in Slovakia they make them more or less right. My elves are not that snobbish, thank the Maker, and the steaks proved to be a good choice–something both of them knew.

This time the problem was that everyone else was staring at them. Their ears, specifically. They pulled off their caps when we entered the restaurant. But, as we talked in English, everybody assumed they were just another pair of eccentric tourists. At least I think so, because we were just starting with desert, when a little boy, five years old at most, ran to us and tugged Airam on the sleeve.

"Uncle elf, where did you get those ears?" he asked in . (All kids call all men 'uncle', and women 'auntie' here.)

Airam looked at me. "He asks where did you get those ears," I translated.

"Well... I was born with them?"

"He is a real elf, from a story, you know. He came to visit me," I said. What? It's a bad thing, to lie to kids.

The boy frowned. "But elves don't exist! Daddy says they're just in fairy tales!" he squeaked angrily.

"Dominik!" A young woman whose heels were taller than herself scurried to us. "Don't bother the gentleman!" From her glare it was clear that she considered us all to be demented drug addicts.

"But I want those ears! I want them I want them I want them!"

The mother glared at us, hissed at her son to 'wait until we get home' and dragged him away. Poor kid.

But, ah, you should have been there when I took them to the biggest bookstore in town, after lunch. There is a huge part with foreign books, and more than half of them are in English. Airam's eyes lit up like beacons.

"What a wonderful world!" He flipped through one, with trembling hands. "Can we stay here for a moment?" he begged.

"As long as you wish," I said.

Zevran chuckled. "I hope they have beds here. He won't leave until he checks every one of these books. You are aware of that, yes?"

Airam didn't listen. He was already piling books he liked to a neat little heap on the floor. Zevran wanted to say something, but when I showed him shelves with books in Italian, he changed his mind.

"Antivan," he breathed, his voice bit hoarse, and I realised just how much he must have missed his home. "Almost Antivan. There are few differences," he corrected himself after he read a bit. "But how is it possible? How can the languages in different worlds be this same?"

Fortunately it didn't seem he expected me to answer that.

Needless to say, we spent a lot of time in that bookstore. It took some convincing and a promise that he could take any of my books he liked, but in the end Airam reduced the number of books to a 'minimum few he really needed'. I had to giggle at his choice: they were all fantasy books about magic and magicians. He thought they were books about how magic works in our world. I told him that there was no magic, but what do I know, right? Just because I don't have magic, doesn't mean nobody has.

In the end Airam bought "only" ten books. Zevran grinned, when he saw him loaded with bags.

"I bet you miss Shale now."

"Tch." Airam lifted his chin. "This is nothing. Though I'd prefer my backpack to these funny bags... who in the Void makes a bag of paper?"

"Ah, but I'm sure Leliana would love them," Zevran said. "Let's just hope we won't return the same way as we came, or they'll be all torn."

"Then let's go buy you a backpack," I suggested. "I'm sure you'll like them more than those you use in Ferelden."

We still have at home my grandpa's old backpack, from 1950's... it's a big, shapeless bag made of flax, with narrow leather straps. Any hard thing you'd put in inevitably dug a hole in your back after ten minutes. And if a whole weight was carried on shoulders, after few hours carrying it your lumbar spine would be blocked and hurt. If that was a backpack from a few decades ago, I was pretty sure those from 16th century were even worse. It made me wonder why they didn't make better use of Zevran's skills with massage.

We went to the nearest outdoor and camping store, and now it was Zevran's turn to act like a little boy in wonderland. The shop assistants all stared at us; I heard two of them argue, in hasty whispers, about whether we're a part of a film crew, or if we are just freaks. I don't know if Zevran heard them, but he didn't pay any attention to them. He was too busy admiring sleeping bags.

"And they are for very cold weather?" he asked again. "It would keep a person warm even in the Frostback Mountains?"

I checked the label. It was the bag for -43oC. I don't know how cold it is in the Frostback Mountains, but I assumed it should be enough. After all, Ferelden is based on Britain, not on Canada.

Then we moved to tents. Mountain tents. Only a little bit over 1.5 kilos. Weatherproof. Pitched in a few minutes. Love at first sight. Zevran wanted only two, for himself and Airam. But, as the price was ridiculously low, compared to Fereldan standards, Airam insisted on one for everyone, and a few spare ones. Zevran was also fascinated by those small utility tents, but the idea of pitching them above the latrines every evening threw Airam into a loud laughing fit, so that idea was abandoned. Airam, on the other hand, was fascinated by air beds, but Zevran was too suspicious. He wasn't a fly to sleep in air, he proclaimed.

In the end we left the store with twelve of tents, sleeping bags, sleeping mats and thermo bottles, two big sets of plastic dishes (orange and dark blue), several bags of extra pegs and other tent spare parts, and one self-inflating pillow, that Airam obtained for himself.

"I do hope you'll land in a nice, wide and clean space when you return," I said when I saw the big pile that the shop assistants carried out.

Airam chuckled. "Well, if it drops on heads of darkspawn, you won't hear me complain."

I was just dialling the number for taxi, when my cell phone rang.

"Having a good time with your elven cookies?" Lucy asked.

"Wonderful! We're shopping-"

"Without me? Unforgivable."

"Aren't you having a lunch with your future mother in law?"

"It's the afternoon already," she snapped. Ah. It apparently didn't go very well. "Wait there and don't move. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Fortunately there was a café next to the outdoor store–it took twenty seven minutes till Lucy arrived. Airam and Zevran in the meantime managed to taste all 16 types of coffee they had there. I just hoped that their small elven bladders would last till we got home.

"So how was the lunch?" I asked as we drove home.

"Are you trying to ruin my mood again? Tell me, why are the mothers of best men always the worst hags?"

"Hags? You mean witches?" Airam lifted his eyes from the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone he started reading the moment we got into the car. "You said there's no magic in this world," he turned back to me.

Zevran chuckled. "I have impression that this time it was just a metaphor, bello mio."

"Oh." Airam immediately lost interest again.

Lucy smiled. "Say, Zevran. You're an assassin, right? Maybe you could help me..."

"Don't give him silly ideas!" I stopped her. "What if he takes you seriously?"

"Zev is not an assassin anymore," Airam added, glaring at Lucy.

Zevran chuckled. "Oh? What am I then, if I may know?"

Airam's ears turned pink. "Well... my bodyguard?" he suggested.

"That I am," Zevran agreed proudly, which made Airam blush even more.

oOo

"This is all what you bought?" Lucy shook her head. "That won't do. None of this is fit for the party."

"What party?" I asked warily.

"You didn't forget Dana was thirty six this Tuesday and she's having a party in D Club? I originally thought I'd spend whole day with my bellowed future mother in law, but, now that nightmare is over, I'm definitely going."

Ah. The lunch must had been even worse than I thought. "Well, I'm not holding you. But why should we–"

"What do you mean, why? They have a unique opportunity to explore this world, and you want them to spend their Saturday night at home? How can you be so cruel?"

"But I'm sure Air would rather read his new books," I tried.

"And I bet Zev would rather go to the party," she said.

"Oh, don't mind us," Airam cut in. "We always love to hear what we want. Right, Zev?"

"But the party sounds good," Zevran tried.

I had to admit defeat. Things were getting out of my control.

oOo

It started fifteen, twenty at most, minutes after we met with my friend. We entered another store to buy 'something fit for the party' for Airam and Zevran.

"I feel weird," Airam complained, "as if my heart wanted to jump out of chest."

Zevran gave him a stern look. "And you feel dizzy, yes? And anxious?"

"Yes," Airam confirmed. "How do you know that?"

"Because I feel the same. But our... friends, here seem unaffected. That cannot be coincidence, no?"

"Yes, you are poisoned, if that's what you're insinuating here," I said.

"Ah. I must say, I'm surprised you admitted it so easily. I expected much more resistance."

Did I think Zevran was scary before? Well. The difference between then and now was difference between angry kitty and angry Bengal tiger.

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked.

"These brats insisted on tasting every single coffee they had in that café from before. They didn't drink it all, but they had some eight cups. Despite my warning not to do so."

Zevran wasn't convinced. "We didn't know it was poison! If we knew, we wouldn't have drank it at all."

"It's not poison. Any food would make you sick, if you had too much."

"She's got a point, Zev," Airam murmured. "Don't panic. I'm a healer. If it's just food poisoning, I can deal with it."

"We'll stop at a pharmacy on the way back, maybe they'll have something for it. But now we have more important thing to do! We're supposed to be at the party in three hours, and you're still dressed like high schoolers!"

oOo

In the end, I went to the pharmacy while they were shopping. And good thing I did. When I said I had too much coffee and probably was overdosed with caffeine, the pharmacist almost called an emergency. I never thought it was such a serious thing. It took all my skills in fabulation (sounds much better than lying) to convince her that it wasn't that bad.

So she concluded that the poison wasn't in the blood yet, and it could be stopped with activated charcoal. Eeeewww. I remembered the disgusting tablets – I had to take them only once, when I was four, and it created a life-long impression. She also gave me laxatives. In case it was too late and it was in the blood already. It's easy to recognise it's too late, she assured me - it's when diarrhoea starts.

I had a brief vision of an anxious, angry assassin tap-dancing in front of the toilet, while his only true love occupied it, and my corpse was lying in the red pool on the kitchen floor. It was enough to make my hands shake, as I paid. The pharmacist asked if I was sure I was all right and if I didn't want to go to the hospital after all. I tried to give her reassuring smile. Judging by her look, it didn't work.

I raced back and forced them to take it, praying that it would work.

"Thank you," Airam smiled at me. "But, perhaps you should take it as well? You're green in face, you look more poisoned than us."

Zevran gave me a knowing look and chuckled. "Do not worry, Air. That poison is deadly only in higher doses. So let's hope nothing bad happens any more today, yes?"

Remind me please, why exactly do I love this man?

oOo

Thanks to the activated charcoal and Airam's healing spells, they were cured in two hours. They also had several outfits like movie stars. At least that's what Lucy said. I'm completely useless in the matters of fashion. We bought bouquets and box of chocolates – they couldn't go to the party without any present – and went home to get ready. I still didn't like the idea of going anywhere, especially after the coffee incident, but I was outvoted. They wanted to see and experience as much as possible. And knowing they wouldn't be here much longer, how could I not let them?

To Airam's disappointment, we decided we wouldn't mask them in any way. We would say that they are movie stars, trying to live in to their roles. That's why they had to always keep their masks. It took hours to put those ears on, please don't touch! That way, even if they made some silly mistake, or wouldn't know how to react, they could always pretend it was intentional.

More difficult–but also more fun–was to explain them what a movie was. And as this was one occasion where showing is better than telling, I turned on the TV.

Zevran walked around it. "How did you get those people inside?"

"Don't be silly, Zev," Airam said smugly. "They're not inside that box. It's some kind of portal to the theatre. They're doing performance and we get to watch them."

"No... well, both of you are right, in a way. The people are not inside. They had a performance, once, in a past. It was recorded, as a series of pictures. That's called a movie. Then that's put in the box and you can watch it, any time you want."

Lucy was crying with laughter, while the two of the stared at me as if I sprouted several extra heads. I know it was a crappy explanation. Try to do it better, if you think you can do it.

"It's like a story in pictures. There are stories in words, those are books, and then there are stories in pictures, and those are movies," I tried again.

Airam furrowed his brows. "So you created this... portable theatre, to watch those... stories in pictures?"

"Sort of. And the people, the performers, they can become very popular and known all around the world. That's what we call a movie star and that's what you'll pretend to be on this party. We will say that you are preparing for making a movie–those pictures–and that's why you have to pretend you don't know anything about this world. Understand?"

"I'll try. But, this is a funny world, you know... you could go to the theatre any time you want, nobody's shutting you in a tower–and you create these funny boxes, and stay at home. I'd wish I could–" he stopped, realizing he said more than he wanted.

"You have never been in the theatre?" Zevran asked, surprised. "Not once?"

"Not in a real one," said Airam. "We were apostates; going to the theatre was too dangerous. In the Tower... we had performances, sometimes. But those were all about Andraste, or some of her followers. Everyone had to attend, but most of us usually dozed through it. I certainly did."

"We have also real theatres. And tomorrow, I'll take you into one," I decided. Operas are in Italian, with English subtitles. They'd both be able to understand. I would have to rewrite the ending of their stay here, but when I saw Airam, shining with enthusiasm, it was completely worth it.

oOo

After the discussion of the strategy, it took Airam twenty minutes to get ready for the party. We dragged Zevran out of the bathroom after forty minutes. No, you dirty-minded monkeys, he wasn't naked! He was doing his hair. Forty minutes.

Finally, at half past seven, we were on our way. D Club is on the opposite side of a town; I spent the whole day warning them not to drink any alcohol, under the threat of most painful death: by nice, long, wynne-style preaching. That made even Zevran worried. Ha!

Everyone else was already there, having fun. Zevran almost danced in, flashing a dazzling smile to all sides. It was obvious that he wouldn't have any problem with the role of a movie star. He was practically born for that role. Airam also did his best, but he looked like a future movie star. But, he looked so adorable it didn't really matter. I don't know if you noticed, but Airam can be quite adorable charmer, when he wants.

Within ten minutes, they had charmed all the ladies and annoyed all the guys. But even guys had to admit that their acting was worth Oscar.

"I wouldn't be surprised to find out they're real elves from some middle age fantasy country," one guy told me. "They never make a mistake! Their act when my mobile rang - I've never seen anything like it!"

There were many curious questions about how I met them, why are they with me, and so on. I was vague and mysterious, hinting that it's a movie based on a game, partially made in Slovakia, but refusing to tell the name and the director. That, more than anything, convinced them it had to be true. It almost made me feel bad - these were my friends, I didn't like making fools of them, but it couldn't be helped. Keeping my two elven brats safe was a higher priority.

Fortunately, the attention soon moved away from them. Zevran looked bit disappointed, in fact. But, the simple truth is, that there is a reason why D Club is one of favourites places of my friends: bowling. Not something you'd expect on a birthday party... at least in this part of the world. We discovered it during college, and since then use every opportunity to play it. Which, due to our busy agendas, isn't more than a few times a year. So finally being together and able to play - not even appearance of a pair of weird actors can top that.

For a while, they just watched. Airam had never seen it before, but Zevran flashed another of his smiles at the nearest woman. "We have something similar in Antiva... but our pins are harder to knock down, " he said in a husky tone, making some of my friends blush.

"How is he doing that?" one of them asked.

"Doing what?"

"Making everything sound like a double entendre!"

"The fool was born that way already," I heard Airam mutter softly.

Soon, they joined the game. Zevran was pretty good, actually, even managed few strikes. Airam was clumsier, but not bad for a total beginner, and was improving with every round. A bit too quickly, in fact. The ball simply followed his will, as someone noted; soon they were joking he must be telekinetic. I would have been annoyed, if the reason wasn't painfully obvious to me.

The silly assassin, of course. Smiling, flirting, even winking at the ladies, and in between occasionally rolling a strike. And the more he smiled, the more Airam ignored him, focusing only on his ball. Oh, of course, he was also smiling, in that adorable way of his, and talked with other men... But, I happen to be his author - he can't fool me, not in a million years.

Zevran was in trouble.

It wasn't until we got into the car to return to my flat that Zevran's brain gradually started to work again. Perhaps it was the fresh, cold air in the car? If it got any fresher and colder, we would all be frozen to our seats, see. Or maybe it was Air's determined staring at the black window, and short disheartened replies to any Zevran's comments. He then tried to apologize, and when that didn't work, he started sulking as well. They were both sulking.

They were sulking in the car. They were sulking as they had a shower and put on pyjamas. And they were sulking as they went to sleep.

It didn't stop the nightmares from coming.

But, as I was opening the door to the bedroom to calm Airam again, I heard another sound. Zevran was humming the tune of the lullaby I was singing the night before.

Disclaimer: In reality, caffeine overdose is much less fun than described here. Symptoms in adults may include: breathing trouble, changes in alertness, confusion, convulsions, diarrhea, dizziness, fever, hallucinations, increased thirst, irregular heartbeat, muscle twitching, rapid heartbeat, sleeping trouble, increased urination and vomiting. And unless you have a handy healer mage, don't try to take laxatives, or anything else. Go to hospital. Seriously.