At least he helped put away the groceries.

I made a snack and went back to the computer, trying to get back into the groove.  Reading a lot of news, railing at a lot of foolishness, and trying not to get political.  I tried to use the rule of only commenting when it was going to be productive, but either I felt like I was going to go all Gandalf, “I need to talk to the wise, and I’m the only one here with that epithet,” or all trolling for irony.

Time passed.  I could not bring myself to drive down to look at the fires.  I got a temporary job at an office I’d worked at previous to my exposure to Doloise, and if Nen was my bodyguard he wasn’t intrusive or weird.  I called my mother.  I called her a number of names mentally, but managed to hold my tongue.  Nen was a better housemate than most of the guys I roomed with at college, although he did curtail a lot of my bachelor porn habits, and I think my book purchasing tripled, but he generally had good taste if a weakness for some authors I didn’t really care to read.  I had to get a new bank card, and they asked me a couple of times about things I’d bought, but nothing unreasonable.  I had to re-instate my comic pull bin, but if that was most of the difficulty of dropping out for a year from the world, I had it made.  It wasn’t even awkward making gaming night again – we have a lot of people who have to drop out and come back periodically, which is kind of how the GM has a two-decade stretch or so of world building.

And yet, that talks of an essential loneliness.  I had two “people” (if you could call Nen or my sister that) covering for me, day in, day out, and I was able to fit right back in to my life, such as it was, without much difficulty.  I kept putting off my talk with Ed, or meeting his boyfriend.  Really, that was the only speed bump to my social interaction.  Rohana didn’t call.  Maggie didn’t call.  I didn’t have any meerkat shows left on my DVR, although I still had to admit to a fondness for the little beasts, if only for Doloise’s sake.  For a memory.  In order to have something, I guess.

Loneliness.

For all that I was this major player, visitor to Faerie Courts, favourite of a King, and owed boons by a Dragon for I didn’t know what for, I really was just this quiet guy in his little place and really, pretty disposable.  I hadn’t made an impact on the world.  I could disappear for real, and probably less than a handful of people would have any idea that I’d gone, and most of them would get over it.  I mean, Ed had his new sweetheart, and while I knew my invitation to Thanksgiving was open with his Ma, it’s not like they needed anyone else to help eat the turkey.  I could just whisk myself away to somewhere else, and have some kind of new life, I guess.

I wasn’t feeling suicidal, exactly.  I was just aching for some kind of change, some disruption of routines, some kind of adventure.

“I can guard your body, but I ain’t touchin’ yer soul,” Nen said, as I stared at the computer.

“That implies that you believe in one,” I pointed out.

“Aye.  There’s soulstuff, to be sure.  Anima and animus, the dreams the dead cannot touch,” he shrugged.  “But you grow them slowly, and they’re personal, to be shared only with those you love.”

“The dreams the dead cannot touch.  That’s poetic.”

“And pertinent. And possible.  And purposeful.  If that’s not the same as pertinent.”

“You sound a bit impertinent to me,” I grinned.  “But you usually say something like that when I need to learn something.”  I turned it over in my head.  “That which is dead cannot dream, that which dreams cannot be dead, or is this something about that which can lie eternally can dream and not die?  I always get that quote wrong.  I sometimes think Lovecraft hosted some sort of odd parasite from Beyond.”

“Then teach me this,” Nen said, “Why do you say ‘Beyond’ as if it weren’t ‘next to,’ or ‘betwixt’ or ‘between’?”

“Huh, or just widdershins in parallel or something.”  I shrugged.  “Because I’m somewhat focused on the idea that my reality is the one true reality, and all of what your lot is is outside, beyond the boundaries of my realm.  I know it’s solipsistic, but while I do a lot to expand my perspective, can I really know anything more than my own mind?”

“Hence, love,” Nen said with his own shrug. “The ability to take someone else’s mind to mind,” he grinned, picking his paperback up.

“I don’t know.  A lot of writers I’ve enjoyed have put their own spin on what love means, and I’m not sure they’re right.  Of course, I’m not entirely sure they’re wrong, either.  I mean, if love is purely chemical, how could it be of the soul? If love is so good, how can it hurt people? Is love even possible or just a delusion?”

“So speaks someone who has never been in love,” Nen put the book down.  “Is it true, my mortal friend?  Have you never been tested in the fires of love and then cooled in its silver stream?”

“Wait, love is both fire and water?” I shrugged. “I thought I had tasted it a couple of times, but I’ve never had the full entree, if you know what I mean.”

“Love is more than a full meal, warm feet, and a good place to pee,” he said.  “Although those are all conditions from which it can be appreciated.  Of course, so is the moment of choice, the knife’s edge, the dangling from the cliff, the moment when you close your eyes because you do not need to see what comes next,” he reflected.  “How can you live if you do not love?”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.  “Perhaps that’s the problem.  I do not live.”

“You breathe, you eat, you are animate,” he said, “but even I know that that is but a clumsy definition.  It lacks… soul.”

“So we come back to that.”  I shook my head.

“I am fey.  I would lead you into a swamp just to enjoy watching your feet get wet, and tease leeches to your ankles.”

“I thought better of you,” I said, slowly.

“That is because I deserve better, but do not think your wet feet just a prelude to fungus. It is the present, come in and know me better, man.  I am more than what you see or guess.  I am mystery.”

“You are not a woman.”  I was teasing, but he took it seriously.

“Women are not mysteries, my friend.  Women are not mountains to climb or experiences to gather.  That which is woman is not so different than that which is you.”

“I’m not sure if I should resent that,” I said, sourly.

“Only if you think being a woman is something less than being a man,” he said.  “In which case, I would have you speak again to my sister.”  He grinned.

“No, I tend to put women on pedestals,” I paused for effect.  “Well, I mean, your sister is kind of short.” I was trying to keep it light-hearted.

“Hah,” he said, but it wasn’t a laugh.  “Women as the untouchable other, then?  It explains your reaction to the Seven King.”

“Untouchable, yes, and other, yes, but she wasn’t a woman.”  I didn’t even look for the grin I knew would be curling his lips.  “Not like that.  I mean, she was a lot of woman.  Women, even.  But she wasn’t on my wavelength.  That’s why you’re Beyonders.  You’re written in a programming language based off Linear A, and I’m simple and translatable.  And yes, I mean that in a Shakespearean sense, sometimes.   We hold similar forms and you and I have even managed to communicate in similar phrases and quotes from shared experiences, but sometimes you get really freaky and I realize that we don’t come from the same world.”

“I am not a woman,” he said, after a moment.  “How much do you want to be boxed in by the lines you’ve drawn?”

“I still don’t want to be a wizard, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Peredur would have that you already are.  Do I cross him in refuting it for your sanity’s sake, or do you embrace the riddle?”

“If I’m not sticking it in the faerie girls, I’m certainly not hugging any puzzles.”

“What conversation do you think we’re having?” Nen asked.  He put the book down completely.  “You want to live, but then you say you want to live blinded.  You want to breathe, but the air is poisoned, you want to drink but are too afraid to sip the wine for fear of inebriation.”  He shrugged.  “You cannot fly if you’ve torn off your wings.”

I held my tongue and thought furiously.  I had the inklings of a reply being formed on my lips, but Nen shook his head.

“I cannot lead you in this, man.  My role is appointed differently, and though at times I call you friend, it is a marriage of convenience, only.  I am not your guide, I am not your kind, and I am most certainly not your mentor.”  He picked up his book.  “I only guard you as I was given, and I am done with this talk.”

“Okay.  Me, too,” I said lamely.  I went back to my room and closed the door.  I felt as if I’d lost something, like I’d broken something very fragile that I hadn’t realized had been at risk.

I got out a notebook.  Living was more than reacting, it was acting.  I wrote down a number of questions, with all hopes of answering them.

Who.  Who?  Who what?  Who was the person behind my problems?  Who was Nen guarding me for?  Who was Nen guarding me from?  I didn’t know.  I decided to ask the questions I could answer, if I could find them.  Who was on my side?  Well, Nen had answered that in part before.  The Questor had thrown in with me, which was awesome, and I believe it included his wife, so I had an actual wizard on my side.  Peredur owed me.  The Seven King might have been on my side, at least part of her.  Wrecks.  I put a question mark near Sir Darius’ name, and Thomas.  I decided Rohana was still more on my side than against, but left her with a bunch of question marks.   Ed.  My sister.  Hawk.  Matana was another maybe, but I gave it the benefit of the doubt.  Andrei and Viktor, maybe.  Who was against me?  Naul, wherever she was.  Maybe Ivan.  Maggie.  The Shadow King, what had Nen named him?  Muak-Lal.  Asheralat.  I wasn’t sure who that was, but I kind of thought it was the Messenger.  So there were a lot of names I had to find the connections to… like, how did Peredur relate to Naul?  They were both Dragons, but did that mean enemies or friends or what?  I’ve learned before that a lot of my friends knew others of my friends, so would Rohana and Hawk know each other?  It was a curiosity, but only speculative.

So what.  I mean, “What?” was next.  What was going on?  There was a Dragon who started fires, terrible ones, too close.  I doubted it was Peredur for some reason, even if he was often accompanied by the smell of smoke.  It just didn’t seem his style, but I didn’t rule him out.  I decided I was drifting into “Who” territory again, and went back to focus.  The War.  Small Kingdom, “Large” Kingdom, and Muak-Lal.  The Messenger.  The Witches.  That must make this place a battlezone somewhat, and I was being guarded from something for someone.  How much of the War affected me?  How much of it was related to what I was doing or not doing?  What was my role?  I couldn’t answer enough of these, so I moved on.

When?  Well, while I was gone.  During a politically fraught time, a time of concern, really.  I was not gone a year and a day, although the timing probably had some significance.  I didn’t know enough to really argue this one.

The question “Where” seemed somewhat obvious, but I wrote it down anyway.  Here, in my home state.  In the Small Kingdom.  Was there anywhere else being affected?  I didn’t know.

Why?  Well, that was the rub, wasn’t it?  (I always figured ‘the rub’ referred to something nice done with white robes if it was a good rub, but I wasn’t wedded to the idea.)  Why was it happening?  Well, the War was probably some of it.  The Shadow King had marked me for something.  That was probably a ‘What’ question, so I added it to the list.

How?  How was I involved?

That was the real question.  I mean, was I involved at all at this point?  Was I taken out of time just so it could pass me by?  That would go back to the ‘Why’?

I scratched my head and decided to ask Nen after all.  I didn’t know if he’d answer me, but it was worth the question.