There"s a hidden hobbit house out here!Amazing, real life Legolas lives in a hobbit house! There really is some sort of illusion array since my eyes spun on the way here. A big tree that isn"t there, rocks that fade like a mere hologram and more. I really would have no chance of finding such a supernatural place alone.
Tucked in the face of a hill was a study doorway embedded into the rock with growing greenery looming naturally on top. It"s in plain sight but at the same time, it"s not.
A real hobbit house!
"What"s a hobbit? Anyways calm down, we"re almost there. I promise you it"s safe."
I must have said that last part out loud.
Real life Legolas takes my fangirling as a restless squirm. Which is honestly much better than if he knew my true inner thoughts. Ahh you"re even more handsome than a young Orlando Bloom! What a shame you don"t have pointy ears sir Gable. You would truly be the spitting image of millions of fangirls" elf dreams everywhere.
The closer I get to the hobbit home the further away it looks. We pa.s.s by a small wooden fence I never saw before, then a vegetable patch and some strange stacks of wood and sc.r.a.ps. What an amazing illusion to keep everything so well hidden.
Upon entry to the hobbit house, I am greeted with the interior home worthy of a cottage witch. Various bundles of herbs and flowers hang upside down, drying in the doorway where Gable takes off his heavy leather boots. Further on inside hang even more plants covering up the entire ceiling, as if it were a modern trendy art exhibit.
Everything is made of wood or bolted with a crude iron like metal. It"s simple but the contents are not. Three layers of cauldrons are hanging and boiling over the fireplace, set apart by some smartly designed metal racks. There isn"t a single clear surface in this place, all covered with books, strewn inky papers, strange trinkets and more maybe experiments.
We pa.s.s through that amazing room and another and another and through what I a.s.sume to be the library judging by the fact that the walls are nothing but bookshelves.
Now, this is a treasure of a house worth exploring.
A dark spiral staircase that only leads downwards hides against a crook on the corner. How exciting, an underground that leads to more.
Unfortunately, I don"t get to see much more because exactly one story down, we"re out and turned into a washroom. Unlike the witch like room upstairs, the wash is perfectly immaculate and professionally clean. Not a stray hair or moldy stain to be seen. Also unlike the simple streamlined wooden furniture upstairs, the washroom looks...expensive.
Gorgeous dark marble tiles the floor and crawls up parts of the wall. Embedded gems that can"t be common make up the other parts of the wall in mosaics and tasteful embellishments I can make out a sleek sink, a geometric giant copper mirror and last of all a large romantic freestanding marble bathtub in the center.
I"m only set down, much to my disappointment, after Gable turned on the water to fill the tub, steam rising indicating that it"s hot water. How does this elf-man have centralized plumbing out here? Even my own mansion doesn"t have this good of internal plumbing nor hot water control!
He sets me down near a drain by the corner. I suppose from all the strange k.n.o.bs on the wall that this area acts as a shower. Next to me, he sets down a steaming wooden barrel with a damp washcloth.
"Alright, one hot bath coming up. You seem smarter than the average kid, even if you"re one of Ronald"s. How do you want this? Would you like to clean up by yourself or do you need my help?"
I can have upgraded Legolas come true bathe me?
So tempting but oh no it"s too much, my maiden heart can"t take this. The shame would be too much even if I"m just a toddler right now. I have this much self respect at least.
"By myself please, thank you for the bath, sniff."
"Hmm, I"ll leave you to it then. Dirty clothes in the basket here. Get in the tub after you wash off. The towels will be under the sink. We"ll talk later, you"re not off the hook yet but call me if you need anything. "
"Yes sir, sniff, thank you very much, sir."
"...tissues are here."
Before he leaves he hands me a ceramic container of a leaf mulch paper, it"s even softer than a modern tissue and the relief on my nose is immediate. He also turns off the tub"s running water before throwing in something that makes it bubble a pastel purple.
With that I"m left alone.
It"s a lot to take in.
But more importantly, I"m in a beautiful and mysterious man"s bathroom, more importantly than just that it"s a Legolas look alike!
He just cradled me in his arms! As much as the fangirl is going crazy in me I can"t pa.s.s up the kindness sir Gable has set up for me.
This is my first real bath in what feels like so long. Even at home I"m not allowed to bathe by myself, usually sharing bath times with Lilyanne and a small h.o.a.rd of maids.
This is much more pleasant.
Peeling away my roughly torn brown clothes, once a delicate white, I make to start was.h.i.+ng.
Honestly, it"s pretty good they lasted this long, there were meant for a n.o.ble child"s day wear not excessive exposure to the elements. The dimensional bag went delicately on top of the sad clothing pile.
With the first basin of warm water, I wash away a lot of mud and even more debris than I thought I could carry on my body. Mud, mud, maybe animal feces, chunky mud, and more mud runs and swirls down the drain.
For hair that"s been cropped short in the back, there"s a lot of twigs and bits of leaves stuck up there. After dunking my head into the basin repeatedly I"m forced to give up, there"s nothing else I can remove on my own.
Talk about birds nest hair, literally.
I pitter patter carefully across the smooth marble floors to the too tall tub. Gable is a saint however because there"s a wooden stepping stool for me. The tub is also only a quarter full, fluffed up with pretty purple bubbles, enough for me to be fully submerged if I sit but in no way drown. He"s an absolute saint, kind, caring and beautiful. Why couldn"t he be my grampa?
I sigh in absolute bliss sinking into my first real bath in this lifetime.
The water is warm but too weak for my preferred heat. Still it"s safer on my baby sensitive skin. The soapy purple concoction smells of something sweet and delicately floral, like candied spring blossoms. It"s perfect for some satisfying scrubbing into whatever is left of my sad excuse of hair.
Ah, I miss shampoo. What is this stuff? It must be magical. I wonder if an economic shampoo is something I can bring into reality here.
The water turns cold before I even consider leaving my pretty smelling soak. It"s too luxurious to leave, even lukewarm.
I don"t even bother to think why I"m here or if Gable is in on this plan with grampa. If this wasn"t someone I didn"t recognize as safe of course I would never follow or allow myself to be taken. In this case, though it"s more than safe, it"s a happy coincidence. The amazing bath is just a perk.
When I do finally make to leave to the tub, fluffy towels in a soft heather gray are under the sink exactly where sir Gable said they would be.
Hanging by the slightly open door is a shrunk drawstring s.h.i.+rt that could act as a dress for me, hanging low past my knees. There"s also a loose hanging sleeveless fur vest that may have once recently been a piece of sc.r.a.p fabric. The edges were sewn by a skilled hand, but hastily, messily as if the tailor were on a deadline.
I recognize that kind of hasty sewing style as the same kind my own hands would produce when I would help out my fas.h.i.+on design friends, stressed out on pieces before a show or due project.
The mismatched sc.r.a.p vest fits like an old favorite sweater and just as comfortable as one too.
It"s a little awkward to be alone in another person"s house. I don"t want to wander anywhere I wasn"t invited to, not when my host has been so gracious to me thus far. It"s different than at the stupid prince"s place, that"s familiar and I hold no respect for it or its owners. Otherwise, I"d like to say I"m a perfectly polite guest when in someone else"s home.
While I tentatively leave the washroom, with my dimensional bag, pantsless but dressed none the less, debating on staying put or braving myself up the staircase again I can see a room with artificial lights on. The slight banging sounds of metal and Gable"s absentminded mumbling are what gives me reason enough to make my way down to hall
It"s a surprisingly normal looking kitchen.
Of course, he must have a kitchen. I just a.s.sumed food and whatnot was prepared in the first room with the fireplace.
I can"t say I don"t respect a man who keeps his living and works.p.a.ces separate.
Gable has his back turned, cloak long gone to reveal a lean figure capable of earning the envy of both men and women half his age. He hears me enter anyways if he didn"t already know.
"You"re done, clothes fit alright? They"re not the best for someone so small but best I could do for now. Oh for G.o.ddess"s sake shoes, socks I forget the b.l.o.o.d.y feet! Kids have f.u.c.kin feet. "
Does real life Legolas have a sort of British accent? Yes please, I can live with that, thank you very much.
"The clothes fit yes thank you. Especially the fur vest, the quilted patches are very cute!"
"....that"s because they are patches...but glad you like them."
And so? It"s still very cute, mori girl style is popular for a reason. Since I can"t say that and have anyone understand I tilt my head in question instead. It"s a super effective technique used by cute girls everywhere in between both worlds.
It worked all the time on my previous face and that one was nowhere near as lovable as the angelic Lilyanne"s twin face here.
Gable weakens and sighs at the look, somehow he sounds used to it if that"s even possible.
"It"s the G.o.d d.a.m.n same- even the eyes. d.a.m.n it. " he mumbles underneath his breath.
I either happen to have excellent ears or he underestimates my hearing range. Does he mean my twin sister? He"s never even met Lilyanne, at least not that I know of. But then again Lilyanne gets a lot of honors I don"t. It wouldn"t be the first time.
"Well take a seat, food"s basically done. You don"t look starving but G.o.d when was the last time you ate?"
"I had mushrooms and fruits."
I tried to climb up a chair but it proved to be too difficult for my current height.
With a click of his tongue Gable waved a nearby wand, nothing too fancy, just a dark wooden thing with a swirling silver handle. It made a bunch of things lift and fly into the air, me included.
Ah a real magic wand, so cool.
I watch from high up above to the table being set almost automatically, with a small stack of books stacking up on my supposed chair. A final pillow line the now high seat and I float gently till I"m sitting right on top.
Amazing!
Magic is really amazing but even this isn"t anything any magic user can do! I"m pinched out of my starstruck daze with a literal pinch to my cheeks though."
"Not enough, how much did that c.r.a.p grandfather of your give you in that bag anyways."
Without hesitation, I hand over the inter-dimensional bag. This wizard of a man has many more amazing things than a mere s.p.a.ce bag I"m sure.
"Only the knife, flask, ropes, and healing potions. Everything else I worked hard at gathering. It"s not much but please have them, you can take them all if you like."
A few foraged goods are nothing compared to being invited into his home. People could give up 3 generations worth of their wealth, an arm, a leg, and maybe their brother"s physical body and still not get in.
It"s an honor not granted to many to simply meet the great mage Gable.
"There"s a lot of rocks in here." he notes.
Gable raises one perfect eyebrow but says nothing more. He does empty out the fruit and various herbs and mushrooms into separate baskets though. Of course, he can operate that thing perfectly.
"Not bad for awhat, 3 year old?"
"I"m two years old actually."
"Ah....lovely."
With another flick of his wand, the food comes flying to the table.
A piping bowl of what looks to be grainy oatmeal is placed directly in front of me. A cup of warm milk and honey is poured by my side while a floating spoon scoops berries on top of my bowl before diving in and lightly stirring.
"Eat, it"s easy on the stomach."
Sir Gable takes a seat across from me at the kitchen table. He also has a similar bowl of oatmeal though the contents of his mug smell much stronger than milk.
My first hot meal in days tastes sweet and really does go down easy.
Gable is naturally silent I think, rather than just leaving me in silence to eat. It"s not awkward or unpleasant though and I"m content to spoon my way down the warm contents of my bowl, savoring how it doesn"t hurt my increasingly irritated throat.
I don"t make a mess, polite in my table manners, but a floating cloth napkin comes up to wipe my face and hands after I finish. While I"m distracted my mug is magically refilled with that same frothy milk and honey. Only this time something has been added to make it pink!
It"s delicious!
While I"m happily blowing and sipping at my pink milk, Gable makes to clean up with a swish of his wand. So cool, I don"t even have the will to be jealous. He coughs and washes down the rest of his drink to clear his throat.
I expect it"s talking time now that I"m clean and fed.
"Thank you for finding me and taking me into your home sir Gable."
"...yes...I couldn"t very well leave you out there...like that. Did he...send you out or?"
"My grampa just said in his note when he left me out here that he would arrive in 3 days to pick me up. I was to "just survive" in the wild till then. You found me after my second night here."
"He just....left you around here?"
"No, not exactly, Achoo! Pardon me. We were a few hours outside the Capital gates when he threw me to this big bird, Zarkon or something. Grampa didn"t even warn me, just threw this bag over my neck and ...well."
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I mime an exaggerated throwing motion as that was easier than finding the words for how I was shot like a human football. Sir Gable is doing a very good job of keeping a straight face at my tale though he does look tired.
"You can see the note left inside the bag, that"s all there is. I haven"t touched it since first read it. Supposedly he"ll either be here later today or tomorrow."
"...Don"t count on it kid, he"s always late. Once he was late to a meetup of ours by 5 years."
Ah yes this may explain why sir Gable looks so tired when speaking of my s.h.i.+tty grandpa. He must have infinitely worse tales after all these years. All first hand experiences too. What an amazingly strong man to handle grampa all this time, I wonder how and why he stuck through with it.
"As you already know I am called Gable, nothing else is necessary. I can"t keep calling you kid so what is your name?"
"Pardon my rudeness, I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella, or just Rosalia though you may call me anything that"s convenient to you sir Gable.
"Yes, now what"s your name?"
"Rosalia, sir"
"No, your other name?"
I"m confused, do I have another name I don"t know about? Or is this a code from grampa? I"m always left in the dark on these matters, how annoying.
"Other name? I"m sorry I"m not sure I understand, I don"t think I was blessed with any other name than the one I just gave."
"No child, I meant your name from before you were "Rosalia."
A pin drops and shatters something somewhere deep in my soul.
"From the other reality, where you"re from."
How...how does he know this? What"s going on here? How?
"What is your real name?"
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