Nov 25, 2017 12:57 AM
blue like I'd never known
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Most people can't read, but it is very important to Maitimo's father that he learn to read, and so as soon as the final version of the letters was settled on he has been practicing, diligently. He has read all of the things that have yet been written and written a few himself. His handwriting is so pretty. His parents are so proud. 

 

It is the mingling and the sky is blazing ultraviolet. He is sitting in a room that opens on the courtyard, a pretty mahogany wardrobe ajar behind him, working on his penmanship and singing and watching the waterfall bubble. 

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A girl his age with cobalt blue hair, pinned back slightly but mostly loose, steps out of the wardrobe and stops dead, staring at him.

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...he had not realized there was anyone in that wardrobe and why is she wearing her hair loose. "Hi," he says, and gestures at his hair in case maybe it came loose and she hasn't realized yet.

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She is holding very still like she's afraid to touch anything. She looks bewildered. She says something that is not at all in Quenya.

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"- I don't think I speak that." I don't even know what language that is. What are you doing here?

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Her eyes go even wider and she puts her hands confusedly over her ears.

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- do you not like osanwë? I can try to learn your language but I'm not fast like my father. I could get my father? Should I get my father?

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She says something in her language, slowly.

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- well if he's reading her then he can tell what she said. 

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It was "I don't know how to do that".

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...oh. Okay. It's really easy, the hard part is not sending more than you mean to. You want to sort your thoughts into private ones no one can read and then public ones which people can read. People use a metaphor, like, private thoughts are under a blanket and public thoughts are on top, or private thoughts are hiding in your room and then public ones are in the hall. Until you do that everyone can read all your thoughts and when I wanted them not to be able to do that I practiced very hard and got it pretty fast, you probably will too.

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She frowns. She continues carefully not touching anything. She nods slowly.

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Do you want me to not read your mind until you've got it.

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"I don't know anything important," she says, "it doesn't matter."

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Okay. It makes it easier to understand you. I'm Nelyafinwë Maitimo.

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"I'm Avalor."

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Why are you in my wardrobe.

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"I was in the wardrobe in the room I am staying in," it isn't hers, she doesn't have any things any more, "and it opened into this one."

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...oh. Why do you not have any things, do you want some of mine? I have lots.

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"It's complicated." Blood and strangers and a stolen house she lives in because she is small enough for someone to want her only because she is small and that will last at least till the end of spring.

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...he puts down his calligraphy quill. He frowns at the wardrobe. - if this is a way of going back and forth between Valinor and Endorë then that's very important, he says, and I should probably tell the King.

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She looks over her shoulder. "I don't know."

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Do you want a hug?

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"You have red hair and I mustn't touch you."

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...um. Why?

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"Reds are unclean. I will already need to wash because I was in your wardrobe. And I will probably have to get rid of this outfit."

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