Wish Fulfilment by Himring

Chapter 1

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‘You’re having to do all the work’, he complains softly at my feet.

 

‘Sorry, you’ll have to stay where you are’, I answer. ‘You’re the one who always insists on extra discretion. We’ll be a lot more conspicuous if you raise your head above the gunwale.’

 

Besides, this is a rowing boat. If anyone is capable of figuring out how to use oars effectively with only one hand, it might be Russandol. But I have no intention of spending any time in the immediate future watching him try.

 

He makes an impatient sound.

 

‘The curse of the redhead—yet again!’

 

‘Sh-sh! You know I love your hair!’

 

‘Ah well... Just when I’d decided to go and dye it a nice unobtrusive black. I guess I’ll have to put up with it a while longer for your sake.’

 

I need to pay less attention to him and more to the oars or we’ll be going round in circles. That might be fun, too, but wasn’t quite the plan.

 

When I told him about the dream I’d had, he looked a little wistful and said: ‘This one, at least, we could make come true. We’re already here. The weather seems to be cooperating. And it would only take an hour or two.’

 

So we spontaneously borrowed the boat. I’ll pay for its use when we come back. After I’ve smuggled my conspicuous redhead out of sight, that is.

 

He seems to have resigned himself to uselessness. He has settled into the stern and is watching me row. There isn’t much else he’s able to see from where he is, I guess, but, judging by his expression, he’s reasonably satisfied with the view.

 

Under the influence of that gaze, I find myself making a production of it, showing off my rowing skills. In truth, they are no more than just about middling, but who cares? I grin at him, and he smiles back, a little lazily—really relaxing now. I could just carry on and row him all the way around the lake? No, we haven’t got that much time.

 

It’s just after noon. The Sun glares down on the water of Lake Mithrim as if she’s completely forgotten that this is supposed to be cool rainy Hithlum. The shore, which was almost empty of people when we stole the boat, now seems completely deserted, and so does the lake. Sensibly, all the fishermen have gone home for a nap or for lunch. Nobody’s missing their solid well-caulked rowing-boat just yet.

 

There is no wind and, except for the ripples made by the oars, the surface of the water is calm and glassy. We’re not quite in the middle of the lake yet, but far enough out so that we ought to just be an indistinct smudge on the horizon in the eyes of anyone who happens to wander along the bank, unless they look really hard. At any rate, it feels private out here: just us, water and blue sky. I haul in the oars and stow them safely.

 

‘This is the spot’, I tell him.

 

‘Is it? Here?’

 

He looks up at me a bit uncertainly. Maybe it’s occurred to him that a dream might be difficult to compete against. If so, he’s worrying unnecessarily, because I’ve already enjoyed all this much more than I did the dream itself. In the dream, part of me always knew he wasn’t really there.

 

‘So, should I be doing anything in particular?’, he asks me seriously.

 

Apparently, he’s keen to try and get this right.

 

‘Not really. Just stretch out a little more. Moisten your lips. Yes, like that. Now—remember you’re about to be kissed very, very thoroughly. You should be concentrating on that already. So try to concentrate. Imagine...’

 

‘Findekano.’

 

Yes! I knew I could make him say it in exactly that tone of voice.

 

‘Marvellous ‘, I say happily.

 

Then I slip off the rowing bench and join him in the bottom of the boat.