[Envinyatar]

The mug of tea was halfway to his lips when the memory hit him.

Sometimes, as he sat in the kitchen in the morning, the familiar sounds and smells of it sent his senses reeling back to those times he had spent here with her. He recalled the sunlight from the doorway on a day much like this, and how it had caught in the curly tangles of her long, black hair. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she spread the jam thick with berries across the surface of Cook’s sweet, dark bread. Taking her time as if it were the only task in the world she need get done. Her smile, how it inched up her face to crinkle at the corners of her grey eyes as she brought the bread to her waiting lips. Delight filled her at this simple repast and he had laughed as she offered a bite to him, her slender fingers brushing a sticky crumb from the corner of his mouth when he accepted . . .

Derufin’s thoughts were miles away when he heard the voice at the edges of his day dream. He brought his mug back to rest on the table as the pleasant memories receded.

‘What shall I call you?’

The words wavered and ran like ink on paper left to the mercy of the rain. Then coalesced, as if by some magic, tugging at his attention. His grey eyes darkened as he shook the memories from behind them and saw, once again, this Elf who sat before him.

He smiled as he brought her into focus, and the present reality slid firmly into place.

‘What should you call me?’ he asked, rephrasing her question. ‘Derufin, m’lady.’

He struggled to recall what else she had asked him. ‘And yes, we have some good oak planking for the shelves. It needs only to be cut to length, then sanded smooth, and waxed when once it’s pegged in place.’ He took a deep breath, returning to the business at hand. ‘When we’re done here, I’ll fit you out with tools and set you to planing and smoothing the planks once I’ve cut them to their proper length and drilled the peg holes in them. We’ll wax them once we’ve secured them, then help Cook put back the containers and sacks and jars as she wishes.’

Derufin pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair. His long legs were stretched out comfortably in front of him, one ankle perched on the other. His hands rested on the flat of his abdomen, fingers interlaced. He cocked his head at his breakfast companion, regarding her closely.

‘And you, m’lady, since we will be working so closely together. What shall I call you?’