The next afternoon, he was back in town.

His arms were stinging in the good way, because he'd spent the whole morning kayaking through some minor waterways. Most turned out to be very shallow, and he'd had to push his way with the oars through many narrow-walled passages, and sometimes even carry the muddy kayak on his shoulder over streaks too shoaly to navigate.

He bought a motorcycle suited for long journeys, and 17 bottles of tzuica, which he thought the best homage he could pay to a bunch of fallen comrades he'd not really known that well, even if he could still recall some of their names. Then, he spent at least a good half an hour in a huge plant nursery, browsing through the dizzying variety of rose plants. He'd thought he'd pick one with red-velvet roses- Catherine's undisputed favorites- but he ended up picking a plant with cheerful orange flowers instead. ("bright amber-orange", according to the salesperson). He believed they suited her better.

He also made a phone call.

'Alo? Trei?' The woman picked up, and immediately seemed to know who was calling.

He smiled softly. 'Yes, it's me. How are you?'

She- his hostess- said she was very well, although her grandson was giving her a handful. He laughed with her, easily.

'I'll never be able to thank you enough for the kindness you have shown me,' Trowa said, 'I doubt I did anything to deserve it.'

'Psh, I won't hear of it, dear Trei. It's me who must thank you for looking after our rickety cottage. I doubt that alligator, sometimes'. Again, they laughed together, and something in Trowa's heart became a little lighter.

'My boy, I know that if you're calling it's because you're about to leave. Am I right?'

She was.

'Indeed,' he replied, softly, sending his smile though the phone.

'I am glad,' she said, 'that you could put your thoughts in order. Now, listen to me,' she paused, barely, as if to catch her breath, 'There is a friend of mine in town- a very good, very dear friend of mine. You mustn't leave before you see him, Trei, promise to me that you will go.'

'I promise,' Trowa answered.

'His name is Radu, and he is a very good man. I will tell you know how to get to his house. Do you have a pen at hand?'

He smiled patiently. 'Yes. Tell me...'

.

He rode the bike back to the cottage, the autumn-colored trees and sunny evergreens flashing past him in a blur, and Trowa thought all the while that he'd never enjoyed a test drive before as much as he was enjoying that one.

He had to search all over the cottage until he found a shovel, that turned up tucked under one of the sofas in the living room. Until the sun went down, he stayed out in the garden; where he planted the rose bush in a sunny patch near the alligator. Then, he spent the remainder of daylight in catching up with working out, and keeping up with his splits He'd not realized how much he'd been missing that, and so he ended up indulging even in some risky aerial flips that left him panting and grinning with exhaustion.

He stayed up late doing all kinds of handstands on the sturdy coffee table in the living room, and eventually it got so late that he decided to oversleep the following morning.

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As he'd promised his hostess, he hiked to Radu's house the following afternoon.

The way wound through a thicket of woodland that made him feel kind of like a medieval pilgrim, the sky was heavy with storm-clouds. The scents of the earth stirred awake to dance in the air ahead of the rain.

He got the feeling, before knocking on the white wooden door, that the house belonged to some sort of scholar, by all means also a single man.

Radu was quick to open the door, and his face (which confirmed Trowa's suppositions about the owner) lit up when he saw him.

'Ah, yes, Trei, probably! Come, come on in, my friend. I was expecting you!'

Trowa thanked him and silently let himself follow Radu, trying not to be over-deductive of him; as he knew himself to be of people he just met. It was hard for old habits to die, but he was making an effort.

'I was talking on the phone long today with your hostess,' Radu said, conversationally, after making Trowa sit down in his living room, and making sure he was comfortable. Trowa found he liked the man already, with his bald head, and sparkling green eyes, and odd manner of speaking the common tongue.

'I hope I am not intruding on your kindness,' he said when he accepted a cup of strong, scented tea.

'No way, not at all- you know how the friend of a friend is always a friend, right?'

Right, Trowa thought absently, though that'd make me friends with wacky people. He smiled, dismissing the thought.

'Well, it is true for me, at least,' Radu said, a bit mischievously, and Trowa laughed quietly. 'But she was really wanting that you'd come to see me, so much that in the end I wanted to meet you myself. And, you know, Trei, you're really just like she described you.'

Slightly amused, Trowa asked him just how she'd described him.

'Very tall,' Radu said with a laugh, 'And far away. Which is right on spot, now that I see you. She said also that you are very kind, and quick to read a person.'

Trowa's eyes softened. Was that really how she saw him? Well, she had no reason to think otherwise of him- after all, the war had ended many years ago.

'... you fought in the wars, did you not?' Radu asked, kindly adding, 'She didn't tell me of it, but your eyes are cold... they saw many things.'

Trowa gave his answer through a frail smile, not really knowing what to make of the present situation. There he was, drinking tea with a perfect stranger who, apparently, could read him like a storybook.

He voiced out his thoughts without even meaning to: 'Am I that easy to figure out?'

Radu smiled conspiratorially. 'Only when you know where to look.'

Trowa whispered that it was fair enough, and asked what kind of tea that was, changing topics without honestly meaning to.

'Oh, it's a family blend, to call it something. It's mixed ginger, chamomile, linden, and mint, from my orchard.'

'I like it,' he commented, simply, 'It's very fresh.'

He was promptly promised that he would be given a bag of the blend before he left. Trowa's eyes sparkled. 'You shouldn't, really. I'm afraid it's kindness I couldn't possibly repay.'

'Nonesense,' Radu said, dismissing his concern, 'You're not meant to pay back a gift, Trei. Still, you can humor me on a little something'.

Trowa would have bowed slightly, if he'd been standing. It was a thing from the circus he'd adopted because he thought it was a dear way to show people that he was humbled. Instead, he nodded deeply: 'All that is within my power.'

Radu stood up. He looked like was a man of deliberate movements, and seemed not to do anything without an actual purpose. Trowa saw him stride towards a cupboard (decorated with the traditional Romanian painted eggs), and pull out a drawer, from where he took with great care a rectangular wooden box. Holding it with both hands and with some degree of reverence, he walked back over to where he'd been sitting, across Trowa.

Neither spoke while Radu opened the box serenely and drew out something that was wrapped in a rich, silky cloth. Trowa had been idly speculating what Radu was up to- with mild surprise, he beheld the deck of long cards that the man carefully uncovered.

'Tarot cards…?' he asked, his curiosity piqued, 'I wouldn't have taken you for a Tarot reader.'

'I'm one only occasionally,' Radu answered, shuffling the deck in a manner that seemed, however, very precise and practiced, 'In special times. I felt that it was a special time, now,' he explained, as he carefully spread the deck on the coffee table.

He gestured for Trowa to come closer. 'Pick one,' he offered.

Trowa nodded, decisive, but took a long time, apparently studying the ornate drawings on the back of the cards. They all showed a dolphin, leaping from the sea towards the sky.

He held out his hand to take a card, but hesitated. 'I've never done this before,' he explained, softly, 'Must I choose at random?'

Radu was smiling patiently. 'It helps to close your eyes. Try to see if there's a card in particular calling to you.'

Trowa closed his eyes.

Sometimes, the circus employed fortune tellers, and he had often been dragged along with Catherine when she went around asking about her future (...husband, usually). Most of the predictions directed at her were too obscure, and generally rather outlandish. Their words usually didn't hold for a mind as logical as his (especially if the fortune tellers tried to woo him as well).

He usually let them in on his thoughts, which meant that those encounters tended to end with Catherine slightly irritated at him, mostly for his "immense lack of imagination". You're hopeless, Trowa, she'd say, Isn't there at least a bit of romanticism in your heart, at all? Not for divination, that he was aware of, he thought, but he usually replied to her fake-ish concern by chuckling.

Sitting in that living room, though, with Radu staring intently at him with no intention of hiding his interest; his thoughts about the fakeness of fortune telling were distant; and the feeling of a prickling in the back of his head was all-too-real. As if there was something else in the works in that cozy room. Or maybe it was just the feeling of anticipation. Anyway, he tried to feel for something that 'called him'.

Eyes still closed, he held out his hand, and drew a card.

The Emperor, it said; and he looked at it with some degree of interest but little idea about what it represented. Shrugging, he handed it over to Radu. He felt it would be stupid to ask what it meant, it was implicit he'd be told.

'Oh, yes, The Emperor,' Radu said, with a little knowing smile.

'It doesn't seem to surprise you,' Trowa commented.

Radu eyed the card, fondly: 'No, it does not, really. It is a very good sign.' He gathered the other cards, and placed them gently back on the cloth and in the box. He then set The Emperor face up, in the middle of the small, circular table, from where it seemed to irradiate some kind of mild allure.

Trowa found himself leaning in to study the fair drawing on the card: a crowned, bearded man sitting on a throne, against a backdrop of ominous, looming mountains.

'It could only have been a good card like this one, the one that you would draw,' Radu explained, 'Because you've left your home to find something; and you are very vulnerable now.'

It was not hard to notice the curious gleam Trowa's eyes, it was, however, harder to see that he was surprised at being told of vulnerability.

'It happens often that, when we are at our weakest, we are the most open to change. To new ways. You see, Trei,' he worded, almost conspiratorially, and leaning closer to him, 'The Emperor is a card of power. It signals determination, the chance to make a difference in your life and reshuffle destiny. Do you think this applies to you, now?'

He'd not expected he'd be asked for any kind of input. 'I thought divination was a one-way thing,' he supplied politely.

'Oh, psh, divination is a fallacy,' Radu said dismissively, 'The cards show you an aspect of your possibilities. At the very best, they provide a guidance. But it's always up to your own interpretation. They're not magic, you know.'

Trowa smiled. 'Well,' he conceded, 'Then that might apply to me. I'm on a journey, in more than one way, I think.'

'Yes, yes. The determination that this card marks is also about being creative and resourceful, that's good for travelers. You're a resourceful man, I see it in your stance, Trei.' Honesty shone in Radu's eyes as he exposed his reasoning, 'I wanted you to draw a card because I want you to leave this town with some advice for the road. Something you can, so to say, fall back on. When you're at a crossroads or when things get tough.'

He made a small pause for Trowa to take in what he was saying. When his interlocutor's steady green eyes met his, he continued: 'You have the wind in your back. Don't doubt that you're doing the right thing. Don't doubt the reasons that made you set out in the first place.'

A light crossed Trowa's eyes. It lasted but a second. It was hard for him to take in how easily this man could make him feel disarmed, like his life held no greater secrets.

Him, the master of concealment...!

'Trei,' Radu said, with a sigh, 'I don't know why, but you look like you have a hand clenching your heart. As if you were walking in a world where you feel you owe favors to everybody. I don't know why I feel this from you, but maybe it is because I felt like that too, long ago.'

Trowa shook his head. 'You can see through me too well, and maybe know better than myself what I'm feeling. Maybe you are right. Maybe some things are still heavy to bear.'

'Asculta-ma, Trei. Some say the future lies behind us; unseen and unknown. But the past lies before us so that we keep it in sight, and know what of the things we did were right and what were mistakes.' He looked straight into his eyes, and evenly asked: 'Do you have regrets?'

'I thought I didn't', Trowa answered honestly, 'When I set out- I thought I didn't. I'm not sure now, though.'

A small smile passed Radu's lips. As he listened to Trowa, his eyes were set on The Emperor. 'You heard the saying, surely, Trei- that the only journey is the one within. So, my friend, what were you thinking when you set off? Your hostess said to me that when she picked you up, you weren't going anywhere in particular.'

'I wasn't,' said Trowa, 'I just felt...' he paused. He didn't really know what he'd felt. 'I don't know,' he said, at length, averting his eyes- 'I might have been scared.' His lips curved into a sad, resigned smile.

Radu's voice was low and gentle. 'What was your fear, Trei?'

'Me,' he found himself saying, without thinking, 'What I might do. I was scared of myself. I thought that putting some distance between them and me may set me straight...' he looked into Radu's expectant eyes, and, with clean honesty, furthered- 'That's not exactly what's happened so far.'

He anticipated Radu's laughter, although he wasn't sure he liked it very much, because no one- with the exception of Catherine- ever laughed at his expense. 'Ah, Trei, you are... what's that word... yes- sulking. You're sulking, Trei! So you ran away from yourself... the problem is that you are the only person you're going to live your whole life with!'

Trowa failed to see what was so funny (I'm not sulking, he thought), but his seriousness did nothing to quell Radu's good-natured half-grin.

'You're only human, Trei,' he told him, wisdom making his eyes twinkle, 'There is no shame in getting away. There is, however, great strength in coming back. Will you go back, once you sort yourself out?'

'I'd like to, yes. I always think of home.'

'Very well, then- do remember your Emperor and the good tidings it brought for you. You're fine, my friend, and you're gonna be fine. You're on the right track.'

.

When he left, with countless blessings and a bag of Radu's tea-blend, even though the shadows were dark, the clouds reflected the town lights and became the same reddish color as the limy river waters.

A light drizzle was falling, slowly, and the scent of rain soon chased away the smell of logs burning in Radu's hearth. The road was muddy, and his socks quickly felt cool with damp that passed through the fabric of his shoes.

He walked slowly. He was in no hurry, although the cottage was a good half an hour away from where he was. Warmth filled his chest when he thought of the rest of the afternoon spent in quiet conversation and dominoes with Radu, who'd turned out to be lucky in games and unlucky in love, (from what Trowa could infer from what little Radu told him).

The world around was wet, and very silent. In spring, there would have been overlapping chorales of frogs and cicadas, but winter was around the corner and the wildlife was becoming lazy. To chase away the drizzle, that grazed his skin like minuscule kisses, Trowa absentmindedly hummed a random tune. It threaded itself into a low-toned melody. When he became aware of it, he noticed it sounded quite merry, and decided to shape it into a jig. He'd promised himself one, after all.

He whistled his newly found song with placid delight all the way back to the cottage, while thinking of a name that could go with it. The 'Danube Delta' jig. The 'Farewell to Gorgova' jig. The 'Thoughtful Kayaking Getaway' jig.

By the time he'd opened the door and put his shoes and socks to dry by the hearth he'd soon be lighting, he'd settled for 'Radu's Rainy Jig'. He knew that, in that way, he would never forget that afternoon, or that place, for that matter. Radu seemed to be the embodiment of the town, the river, and the cottage. Kind, yet world-worn. Realistic, yet unwavering. A balance that Trowa found very comforting.

There was a pair of slippers he'd borrowed from a closet which he'd been using for the past few days. He slipped them on and ventured outside, where the drizzle had grown into a steady rainfall, to hoist in some sturdy logs that seemed to be dry enough to still light up nicely.

Soon enough, there was a healthy fire glowing in the hearth, and his shoes were placed strategically to dry- he was confident they'd be good for the following day. The rest of his clothes followed suit, also in strategic positions, since he'd only brought one change of clothes with him, and he didn't want to tempt his luck. Plus, he only had one jacket.

In pajama bottoms (he'd been smart enough not to forget them) and a shirt he borrowed from the closet (it wasn't his size, though), he fixed himself some dinner, that he ate standing up in the middle of the kitchen.

Then, he made himself a cup of tea that he took to the living room, where he sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the fire. Pretty soon, his face was warm and his hair was dry.

Before long, he thought, I'll be on the move again. I better get some rest tonight.

He heaved a sigh, and the flames flickered.

Some old scars pulsated against his skin when the weather was damp like this, and he hoped that what he felt was weariness from the day and not a slight ache in his bones. There were, of course, no answers in the fire; and for the first time in a long while he longed not to be alone. He wished to have someone with whom he could stare into the samba flames- his mind idly conjured the image of a large, tan beast curled by his side, the long, erratic shadows playing with the outline of its silhouette, and his hand affectionately entwined in the long hairs that made the mane of the circus' lion.

He dismissed the thought with a pensive smile. Maybe, if he got back home before the old lion died, he could convince the Ringmaster to let him walk it, now and then. It was clawless and fangless, and it wouldn't hurt anyone- not unlike himself. Maybe they'd even end up watching the late bonfires together- at that point, Trowa reasoned, the familiar beast felt more like an old ally than a mere animal.

The thought was snug, and it tugged at the corners of his lips and molded them back into a mild smile.

He stretched, and welcome excitement built up in his chest. If all went well, he'd be on the road again tomorrow, and he found he could hardly wait.

When he went to sleep that night, his hair smelled like smoke, and he felt so relaxed that he could almost pretend he had no scars at all.

.

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Radu is a friend of mine :)

He'll never read this, but I'd like to dedicate this chapter to him, nonetheless. Also, I don't think he's a tarotist.

But he totally could be one.

Author's Note:

I'm personally very fond of this chapter :)

I'm sorry for making my notes so long. But I like to share what I consider important and my thoughts regarding the chapters :P

First things first- Glossary:

Asculta-ma: Listen to me

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I'm a sucker for symbolism, and once that I had envisioned the back-side of the cards containing a dolphin, I had to do some research about it. I really like one particular description that I found, I felt it was very Trowa:

" […] Dolphins are both highly intelligent and closely in tune with their instincts, striking a balance between the two states. Dolphins are also a symbol of protection and of resurrection. […] People who identify with the dolphin totem are usually peaceful and gentle, but with a deep inner strength. […]"

About Tarot: So I was doing some research for this chapter and read lots of scary accounts regarding Tarot and the Occult… this story is by no means an encouragement for you guys to get involved with shady business!

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Radu says: 'Some say the future lies behind us; unseen and unknown. But the past lies before us […]'. That is the belief of some Melanesian tribes. Conversely, in the Occident, we imagine the past to be behind and the future ahead. Interesting, isn't it?

Guest: Hi! :D You're a very acute reader. Yes, that means he doesn't really know where he's from, but I'll only hint at this- he seemed to pick up Romanian rather quickly :O I don't think I'll expand on that, though. I don't know. We'll see where the story wants to go :)

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I'd like to send a virtual hug to Guest, Briony (yup, I also want to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks... and give him lots of chocolate and family love!) and sallysally for their lovely reviews and constant support!