The Bell Tolls for Me

Isabella looked at Valerio as he stood on the bow of their ship. The chill had grown to the extent where moisture on the ship was freezing over. Her breath came out as mist, and she wore three layers just to avoid shivering uncontrollably. He stood with his hand firmly wrapped around the ship's railing. Wind emanated from his form, pulsing outward until it danced to join with the ship.

He was sweating. Despite the chill, he was sweating. His hair had quite literally frozen at points. His skin was cracked, and the blood that came out had frozen too. Two days and three nights he'd been there, without sleep, without rest. It was unfathomable. He was worried, she could tell—how could she not? But she was just as worried for him as he was for her. She wanted to go to him… but she knew she would only be a hindrance, a distraction, that he couldn't afford.

She didn't know much of sailing, but a few of the sailors educated her on why what Valerio was doing was so spectacular. Shifting sea ice, unpredictable storms, and rapidly changing weather could block or damage vessels with little warning. Even in summer, there was extreme cold and limited daylight in the frigid north—both a sailor's nightmare. Yet Valerio persevered, and not once did their ship suffer unduly.

Every day that passed them by, Isabella felt her weakness grow. It wouldn't be long until she couldn't walk anymore. Valerio had told her to trust him, that he would take care of everything. Now that the time finally came… she saw the depths of his devotion. She would not forsake that, not ever. She would not forget.

***

Isabella wasn't quite sure what she was expecting upon arriving at the other continent that Valerio had spoken of. The Sylvath Delta, the Ithilian… she had pictures of city beyond imagining in her mind, a great civilization that was entirely foreign to her own. Instead, as they travelled up the river's delta to the city located upstream, what she saw was a rather familiar style of docks leading to a rather familiar style of city wall.

There were trees of a type that she'd never seen before. She saw a huge, lumbering animal with a spike on its nose—and from the look if it, it grew naturally. The treescape, the bushes, the flowers… nothing was like what she'd seen in Dovhain.

"Unbelievable…" Arthur said, giving voice to her thoughts. "I've never heard of… no one's written of… how…?"

As Arthur was trapped in disbelief, Isabella was struggling to keep her head upright. She sat on a crate near where they would come down from the carriage. When she saw Valerio walk over, she lifted her head to look at him. He looked utterly haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, and a deathly hue to his skin… yet at the same time, he was more serious than she'd seen him.

"How far is this continent?" Randolph asked. "I've been on ships before. That voyage was briefer than the journey to Ambrose from Dovhain. How could this place truly not have been discovered?"

Valerio's voice was haunting hollow as he answered, "Without magic, it takes months. Sosen aided me, but my powers carried us quickly."

"Are you… well?" she managed, her voice a pathetic, weak thing. She noticed his hands in particular, which were gray.

Valerio followed her gaze to his hands. "Frostbite," he explained, flexing his fingers. "I'm a Thalvassë. I can survive more than this."

"Hurts?" she followed up.

"Let's focus on seeing you well," Valerio said.

Isabella lacked the strength to argue. She tried to rise, but merely stumbled forward. Valerio caught her.

"Easy now," he said, his voice gentle despite its hoarseness. "Here."

Valerio picked her up like nothing. She had switched to warmer clothes once they passed the arctic. She felt his hands even through her shirt—cracked and brusque, they felt more like wood than skin. His hands always had callouses, but to this extent…

"You hurt yourself," she said, concerned.

"As did you," Valerio said pointedly. "But I can walk, at least. Rest your head, Isabella. I'll take care of everything."

Isabella was embarrassed, but that felt miniscule in comparison to the comfort both his presence and his words brought her. She'd been stirred with dread as old memories resurfaced. She'd had dreams about Bernadetta, about being queen, about being abandoned. None of them were true. She leaned her head back against his chest, and watched as they walked down the plank to the docks.

Their retinue consisted only of Valerio, Arthur, Randolph, and Sosen, who perched on Randolph's head. Her escort guard was stunned into silence, taking in the sights. They had considered taking Gaspar, but he had returned to the mainland, laying the groundwork for any return in the only place that was probably safe: the north.

When they alighted on the docks, waiting ahead of them were two figures. One was a familiar face—Roderick. The other was a tall, willowy blonde woman. Isabella's eyes were drawn right to her ears, which must've been nearly half a foot long. They were sharp, angular, stiff, but they didn't detract from her charm. All of her features were sharper and leaner than most Isabella had met.

The woman said something as Isabella stared, but it was in a language that she didn't recognize. She thought it somewhat harsh on the ears—far more throaty utterances than the language of Dovhain or Ambrose.

"If you're not going to be polite, you can head back," Valerio said firmly. "You know that she doesn't speak the elven language. And I know that you do speak our language."

The woman inhaled deeply, but said nothing more as she looked at the boat behind them.

"This is my sister, Effie," Roderick said in her stead. "I ask that you forgive her impropriety. She's still quite young." He looked at her. "And you're…"

"She's unwell," Valerio confirmed. "We'll see the Lómethar immediately."

Roderick nodded. "I should say that your estate is ready to—"

"I don't give a damn yet," Valerio interrupted. "Take us to the Lómethar. This matter needs to be settled."

Roderick sighed. "Fine, very well. The Lómethar wants to meet her first regardless. They know of the situation and they're highly insistent on this meeting."

Isabella looked at Valerio, asking a tacit question. Did that word mean a leader of some kind?

"The Lómethar is a… council of sorts," Valerio told her. "But instead of being appointed by a king, they're elected by and from the people. Each fill different roles in elven society."

"And ever since Valerio's arrival, it has expanded dramatically to accommodate the growing needs of our people," the woman, Effie, finally spoke. She had not a hint of any accent, just as Roderick. "More and more people owe their prominence to Valerio's actions. Don't expect an inquisitive."

"Inquisition," Roderick corrected.

Effie only turned and began to walk away down the docks. Isabella looked beyond, at the city walls—many people were crowding, but had been kept restrained by some guards. All of the people Isabella saw had the same willowy, lean physique that Effie had, and the same sharp features.

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"Let's go." Valerio set off walking, carrying Isabella.

***

Isabella had been worried about the crowd. The moment they passed by, the people began to throw bugs at them. It sounded harsh, yet it wasn't—it was a manner of celebrating.

"It takes them days to collect these," Roderick explained as they walked. "Traditionally, it's to honor returning Thalvassë, who've claimed victory in battle. These days, there aren't many battles anymore. Victories come as we expand our fields of crop and add new sections to the city. If you find a blue one, I recommend eating it. They're quite the delicacy—though, most save them for themselves."

The bugs that they threw glowed brightly in myriad colors and floated gently through the air, clinging to clothing and hair. Isabella was unsettled at first, but settled down after a time. The bugs' legs on her skin certainly made her uncomfortable, but the creatures themselves were somehow cute, with big eyes. Valerio was immensely popular—just about everyone was cheering his name loudly. Not 'Duke of the Isles.' Just Valerio. He seemed unbothered, solely focused on carrying her to their destination. The most present fixture in the crowd…

"There are so many children," Isabella said to Valerio once the crowd's noise had quieted somewhat. Elven children must have outnumbered the adults by at least seven to one.

"That's because they don't die anymore," Effie answered, and Isabella turned her head. "Before Valerio's arrival, it was rare for ours to reach adulthood. Food was scarce, dangers were many, disease was comma, but—"

"Common," Roderick interrupted.

"…but Valerio changed that," Effie continued without missing a beat. "We owe him much and more. And given time, we will claim this continent, and perhaps beyond it."

Isabella wondered what 'perhaps beyond it' meant. They moved through streets decorated with abounding unfamiliar species of flora. There were cats perched on the ceiling with quite long ears, topped with little black flourishes. She saw a monstrous gray beast with a horn in a plaza, dead, where a dog almost big enough to ride ate at its corpse.

"There's a colossal match today," Effie said to Valerio. "Will you attend?"

"Colosseum. Isabella is my primary concern," Valerio answered.

Looming ahead of them was a very stately building—a classically constructed city hall, Isabella could tell. Much of what she saw had simply been imported from Dovhain. Perhaps that was to be expected. It was much more difficult to develop a entirely new architectural style than it was to import one that already existed.

"The Lómethar is within," Valerio said. "Be at ease, Isabella. One way or another… I'll get what's needed."

***

Valerio walked into the Lómethar's Hall. His tension was so absolute that it felt like it might burst out of his body like a punctured barrel of water. He had been trying his best to keep his composure for Isabella's sake, but every day that passed by he grew more uncertain and more upset as her condition deteriorated. Today, hopefully, he could reverse her trend of decline.

When Roderick opened the door to the chamber proper, he entered the room with great apprehension. Dozens were in attendance. The Lómethar had expanded much in his absence. The majority were faces that he recognized, fortunately, but more faces still meant more people to persuade. He didn't want Isabella to know that things might not be as simple as arriving and asking.

But whatever he had to give up, he would. She had to get better.

Contrary to his expectations, the first person that they interacted with wasn't him or Isabella, but Roderick.

"Rótherion!" one of the Lómethar members called out—Faelquariondël, Valerio placed quickly.

"Roderick," the man corrected. "That name is gone for me now."

"That's utter nonsense." The one who'd called for him scoffed. "Though… perhaps it has some merit to it. You're as fat as Valerio is. They must live very well over the ocean, no?"

He could see Isabella looking around in confusion as they talked. They were speaking their native language.

"Is this the 'princess?'" one of the Lómethar asked deliberately—Thulachnor. He had to use the word 'princess' in the Dovhain tongue—they had no word for princess in the elven language. It was a totally foreign concept for them. "She is rather plump, yes? Can she not walk?"

"Perhaps the night will settle that," Valerio cautioned—traditional words threatening a duel if insult was not withdrawn.

"I meant no offense," Thulachnor said quickly. "She is as beautiful as any elven maiden I've seen. The differences in features merely draw my curiosity."

"She is my Unorindómë," Valerio stated clearly to each and all. "Disrespect her at your peril."

Again, those words were couched in tradition—the simplest translation of the word itself would be 'soulmate,' but more literal would be 'the one who causes the sun to rise each morning.' Elves were intimately familiar with what it meant, and any disrespect toward her was cause for a duel. He had to be utterly clear so there was no room for misinterpretation.

"So… it's true, then." The oldest elf in the back of the room spoke, his voice firm. He was Taryon, the de facto leader. "We've been considering your request operating under that assumption, but…"

"And there is no room for any moons?" asked another member—she was one of the few Valerio didn't know.

She was broaching the idea of a secondary wife. Valerio decided to put cold water on it right away.

"When the sun is away, no other light can replace it," he said in poetic language. "Nothing can change my mind on that perspective."

"I see." Taryon nodded. "I'm pleased for you, but that's irrelevant to the proceedings. You appeal based on service, then, to make this Isabella a Thalvassë."

"I do," Valerio confirmed.

Taryon leaned in. "Then we have an answer to that. No," he stated emphatically. "Our land is not like yours. We do not grant appointments based on familial ties, but for the benefit of the people as a whole."

"You'll make an exception," Valerio stated plainly and loudly.

The hall went silent. A few of them looked between each other.

"Your will alone isn't enough," Taryon finally broke the silence. "Both you and Roderick have made her value exceedingly clear to us. But a Thalvassë arises from their own merit alone, not the good word of others. And pivotally… she must understand the consequences of what's to happen to her."

"If you don't do as I ask, I'll leave this place and tell those people that just cheered my return you're refusing to save the life of the woman I love," he said clearly. "Already, those people are wondering what purpose you serve as society changes. Shall I give them a reason to—"

Isabella put a hand over his mouth, and he stopped in shock. He looked down at her in his arms.

"Are you threatening them?" she asked quietly. She couldn't understand their words, but his tone was unmistakable.

Valerio grit his teeth together. "They expect you to… prove your worth," he muttered to her quietly. "In your condition. It's no formality, either."

"Do you think I can't?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, but… you shouldn't have—"

"I am asking a favor of these people," she said, her voice stronger. "I must follow their custom. You should not alienate them for my sake."

Valerio closed his eyes. He couldn't deny some frustration.

"Forgive my outburst," Valerio said, opening his eyes once more.

"You are forgiven," Taryon said. "She is your Unorindómë. These things happen. So… you agree, then?"

"Yes," Valerio said confidently. "Isabella can succeed in persuading you herself."

Taryon nodded. "Very well. I'm glad you don't dispute the process."

"Yet Isabella has less and less time, every day," Valerio said, and she looked at him curiously when her name was said. "If you wish to keep me as your ally, Taryon—indeed, all of you... this will become the immediate priority of all the Ithilian."

Taryon rose and flourished. "I vote in favor of this."

All of the other councilors rose up and repeated the gesture. It was unanimous agreement—Valerio's efforts hadn't come to naught. These were a grateful people.

"Then… so it shall be," Taryon said with a nod, sitting back down. "Your task is difficult. What precisely can she offer that you cannot? I'm curious to hear the answer."

Valerio didn't expect undue difficulty. The Lómethar was politics, writ small… and Isabella knew that game all too well.