Entry tags:

marit larsson, nathaniel wyatt

Wednesday, September 19, 2007: Nathaniel and Marit
Who: Nathaniel and Marit
When: Wednesday, September 19, 2007; Late in the morning
Where: From Marit's bungalow to the library in town
What: Nathaniel finally works up the nerve to go to Marit about Swedish lessons and the pair spend a lovely afternoon in the library.

The bungalow needed some help on the outside, a touch of warmth that would give invitation without hesitation. Marit had gone into town the day before and found some hanging flower baskets and this morning she had set out to hang them on the both the front and back porches. Whomever had lived in this place before her had left little hooks in the posts where they too must have had the desire to make this place friendly in appearance. Pansies of purples and yellows poured out of the baskets and Marit smiled as she put them all into place before she filled her little watering can and set to feed her new blossoms.

She spent some time inside, too, setting things to how she wanted them to look. She felt that she needed a proper tea set and wondered if she couldt find one. Marit had gone through and pulled out nearly everything that had been in the small trunk that had been dragged from Sweden to Elysium. These were all mostly things that she wanted to keep not just for the memories but for their finery. A lace tablecloth was one of her favorite pieces and she had put it over the little table in her humble kitchen. She also had some lace curtains the color of pearls and she had hung those after tending to the flowers. Elysium's land was beginning to feel more like a place she could call home.

Marit stood at the back of her little house and leaned against a post that held up the back roof and she watched the lake. Far off, hippocamps were making a fuss in their play. Birds flew overhead and dived to skim the tops of the water for their second breakfasts. As much as she has continuously wanted to throw herself into land life, she was still struggling with some aspects. Even making the house lovely did not change the fact that she was very much alone in it. Solitude was appreciated only when she had first arrived here, and even then, she never felt as though she were really all that alone in the lake. At least she was making friends, now. She smiled at the thought of Zane and Amada's wedding, Sascha and Sweeney, all of whom had been very sweet and the sort she liked to be in the company of. Marit was told that she simply had to meet a woman named Emily as they shared some hobbies. And of course, there was Mister Wyatt. As she started to slip away into thought, Marit thought it would be better to get some of it all out and into her journal.

Nathaniel paced the length of the living room for the fifth time. Should he? Did he dare? Yes, he wanted to go to Marit's house to ask if she wanted to go to the library with him, but he continued to hesitate. It was improper, part of him said, but then again, it was only the library. His intentions were purely platonic and this was not a romantic excursion. Was this too forward for a third encounter? Ugh, he didn't know. As he turned to pace across the room again, Voe sighed from the sofa. "Do not wear the floor with your incessant trodding," she said. "You brim with nerves. Either tell me what plagues you or retreat to your quarters." Another lovely blunt statement from his roommate.

"I don't know if I should ask Marit to the library so we can study Swedish together," he said and for a split second, Voe looked as though she was going to laugh at him. This was a big step, as part of him admitted that he did want to pursue this friendship. Of course, there was always the thought of her dying because she was friends with him that plagued his mind, which he tried desperately to ignore at the moment.

Voe uncurled her fingers from the wine glass she held as she set it on the end table and her posture straightened, eyes intense and focused upon him. "You want to see your ally Dandelion, is that not so?"

"Yes, but - "

"Learning this language would earn you more of her favour." Voe leaned back against the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her elegantly. "You must go. She will appreciate your offering - it is quite gentlemanly." The albino vampire knew how to persuade him, in such a short time it was scary. He was a little old-fashioned and being a gentleman was important to him. (It also pleased Voe to no end, and she thrived off of getting him to pull out her chair for dinner.)

Right. Nothing to lose. He glanced once at Voe before he opened the front door and headed to the water bungalows. Traveling directly underneath the sunlight was somewhat disconcerting, but he tried to ignore it as he continued on the path. Ms Larsson being outside was a factor he did not take into consideration and meant that he had no time to prepare himself before he had to greet her. "Hello," Nathaniel said in a quieter voice than expected. Had he really done the right thing? He wiped his palms against his trousers and walked closer to her.

She was sitting at a little table accompanied with two chairs, her leather journal opened and the thin ribbon laid out and away from the book. Keeping a journal was something that she had always done since she had learned to read and write. It helped her not only see her progress in both areas but it also helped her organize her numerous thoughts and the harder periods of adjustment when she had been brought to live on land. Books, both written and ones to write in, had proven to be one of the greater comforts in Marit's life. They seemed the most constant things as books and journals could be found anywhere, in any language, and it was just a matter of obtaining them and possibly learning another language or having help in translating it to discover a new story and lose oneself in another world.

It was natural that she wrote in Swedish and as she was recalling the events at the wedding of Zane and Amada, she heard a soft "hello". She looked up and immediately a bright smile rose up to greet a person who was quickly becoming a frequent name on her slightly yellowed pages. "Hello!" Marit's cheer was an honest show of how happy she was to see him. She put her pen down next to the book and would wait a few minutes before she would slip a thin sheet of paper between the pages to prevent smudging. "Please, won't you join me for a sit?"

He looked a bit nervous and in truth, under her happy and inviting smile, Marit was a bit nervous as well. There was a touch of what she had been told everyone else called 'the butterflies' in her stomach. When she was younger, Marit thought that there were very, itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny fish in her belly that would swim around whenever she was nervous. Butterflies were not creatures she discovered until later in life and her first experience with them was a horrifying one. To say that they were in her stomach was something that she did not want to think of and preferred the image of many little fish.

He saw that she was in the middle of writing in what looked like it was a journal and guilt wracked him as he realised he might be interrupting some important introspection. No, he needed to stop thinking like that because she had smiled when she greeted him. That meant he hadn't disturbed her, almost certainly. Nathaniel nodded at her request and sat on the other chair across from her, his posture too straight and generally uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said. "I'm not breaking your train of thought am I?" He glanced at the journal, though he didn't try to read the contents. Intruding on another's privacy went against his morals.

Now, for the actual question. Nothing would happen on the way to the library, his rational part of his mind told him. "I wondered if... you would accompany me to the library. Perhaps to start Swedish lessons?" he asked, hoping it wasn't improper to imply something like that. She said that she would be happy to help him, but still, it was the principle of the matter. He clenched part of his trouser leg where his hand rested on it and tried to relax. Yet, months had passed since he had someone around that he could call a friend and while he wanted so badly to be more familiar with her, that was impossible. Nathaniel just couldn't.

"I understand if you have other plans at the moment." Perhaps it was unnecessary for him to say so, but in order to appease his nerves, he had to say something. Ever since the wedding, she'd been in his thoughts at least a few times each day and mentioned her to Voe, who had requested a description of both her looks and personality. Ms. Larsson was his ally, Voe insisted, and that made her important. His fellow vampire insisted he need more allies as much as he was hesitatant to befriend people. Even slow steps were a start.

As he neared, she straightened her own posture a bit, not to the point of uncomfortability but for the sake of manners. She placed her hands in her lap a moment and when he referred to her open journal, Marit shook her head lightly. "No, not at all. I was just jotting down some thoughts." She raised one hand and a finger lightly pressed to the last word she had written before ending the sentence to see if the ink was dry. "I always fancied that great characters were once just thoughts that were cramping their writer's head until they took the time to write them down." While she was not writing a character or a story other than her own at the moment, it seemed the same principle applied. Her finger rose again and there was only a slight mark of ink on her finger, which meant the the rest of the page was certainly dry. She carefully slipped the tissue paper to the page and then placed the ribbon marker in, the last inch of it it hanging out the bottom for ease to return.

Those little fishes all seemed to swim high and dive down quickly in her stomach at the sound of his invitation. "My only plans for today are to teach you some Swedish." Why wa sit so easy for her to smile? Perhaps that was just something that seemed to have been given to Marit in the stars of her personality, but she found it to be especially enjoyable when certain people were its cause. "I am uncertain of my abilities as a teacher but something tells me that you will be a fine student." He seemed the attentive sort to details and of what they have spoken about before, Marit could bet that he would be dedicated to it as well. Her time would not be wasted.

She then considered that the bungalows was a good ways of a walk from town and she was still uncertain as to where he resided but it was certainly not near here. Marit wondered where he might have been to have come all this way to ask her to go back into town. Her eyes went from Nathaniel to her journal a moment. But then she looked up quickly with a frown threatening to turn her otherwise cheerful expression. "Oh! How rude of me--would you like something to drink? It is a good walk this way and the sun is quite bright today." She was much better at being a good hostess when it was much more frequent.

It was a relief to hear that she was simply doing light writing and glanced as she tested to see if the ink was dry. He listened intently as she remarked upon great characters and wondered if she was in the middle of writing a piece of fiction. His curiosity got the better of him. "Oh? Are you a novelist?" he asked. She seemed the perfect type to write whatever, sitting by the lake with her journal, hair falling over her face as she concentrated... He pushed the thought out of her mind and finally leaned back in his chair, if only for a little while before they'd go to the library. The effort she gave to her journal was admirable, he had to note.

Hearing her agree relieved him. Not only that, it pleased him to hear, more deeply than he expected. For the first time in months, he grinned. A large grin, spreading across his face and lighting up his eyes. "Thank you," Nathaniel said. "I am positive you will be a good teacher." His comment was completely sincere in reply to her compliment - good things must come in twos, right? Once committed to the learning of the language, he wouldn't stop until he mastered it, no matter how long that would take. "I will do my best to learn."

Walking from the forest cottages to the water bungalows was a considerable distance, but if he was in her presence for a while, the journey would be more than worth it. He wondered what made her frown momentarily. He didn't think it rude of her not to offer him a drink, considering he was a vampire, even if she did not know that. At the question, he became more serious and anxious again, debating what to tell her. Would she have a problem with him being a vampire? What were her opinions of them? He hated what it was, that was no secret, but actually telling a new friend of that... "No, I'm all right, thank you," he said. "I cannot drink anything except blood because... I am a vampire." The words weighed heavily on his heart. "I ate earlier today. I hope this does not disturb you because - I wouldn't want it to." That admission caused his throat to swell, embarrassingly enough and he stared off at the space next to her.

"A novelist," she began as she considered what one could call parts of her journal, "is a possibility." It was a very simple question that somehow did not have such a simple answer, for if anyone read much of Marit's journal, it would describe places and creatures that were once widely believed to only exist in many imaginations. "It's my personal journal but I suppose some things in it could sound almost like... well, like fantasy." Marit was very excited about The Little Mermaid when she had discovered it but wondered why so many of the animals could speak like humans could--or even how the mermaid could! That was what helped her define fantasy, that anything was possible if a mind could think it up.

She could feel his sudden anxiety in his omission and that actually caused her to feel a pang of anxiety for him as if out of sympathy. That hung on her for a moment but then it began to sink in, his words, that he was a 'vampire' and immediately a wave of emotion swept over her--and not one that the dear Mister Wyatt might have expected. "You... are a vampire? Really? Why, I didn't know vampires really existed! Was Dracula at all truthful or was that man really as fond of alcohol as it has been said he was?" She was grinning as he had only moments ago and then she saw how he must have feared that she would be disstressed of what he was. Her grin fell and she went from excited to concerned.

Now she was the one feeling embarrassed for her outburst at what was a difficult thing to say. "Oh, Mister Wyatt, I'm sorry for that. That was incredibly rude of me." Marit looked down to see that her hands had jumped up on to the table in all of her excitement and she quickly pulled them back into her lap. She stared at them and sighed softly as the index and thumb of her left hand pinched a bit of her pink sundress out of nerves. "It's just," she began softly, "that, well, I'm a mermaid, Mister Wyatt, and I've found that what everyone else seems to think of mermaids is factually incorrect." It was that disappointment from her early twenties when she had seen that animated film coming back up again. Her voice had dropped down softly, just as his 'hello' had been. "Animals and mermaids--merpeoples--we do not talk as everyone seems to think we do. Have you ever tried to speak in the water? I have spent more of my life without the necessity of speaking, reading, or writing than I have with it." At that point, she looked back up to him.

He had never known a novelist before and if she was one, he wanted to help however he could. Being inspirational was not one of his strong points, though, but he thought he'd make a decent springboard for ideas. "Perhaps you have a hidden talent. It is possible," he said. His niche, or talent, was still unknown even though he was a doctor. So he enjoyed to help people, but if he only claimed to have that talent, he was easily replaceable. His loyalty as deep as it was may not have been, but one didn't become noticed just for being loyal. Her personal journal was another matter. "Your journal may sound fantastical to regular people, but with people here you may strike a chord."

Her reaction was not digust, but shock and... intrigue? He couldn't help staring as she spoke. Maybe she was more open-minded than he thought - there was a possibility of people not being afraid of or disliking vampires, as strange as it sounded. "I have no idea," Nathaniel managed to say in response to her question. "I'm not that old." Nor did he really want to meet bloodthirsty vampires, because Voe was bad enough. She had a superiority complex the size of the Atlantic with a ridiculous quest to be perfectly elegant. He didn't tell her; getting on her bad side was not one of his top priorities. His shoulders were still tense, because there had to be a catch. She probably hadn't met any vampires before nor been exposed to much about them and he suddenly had the urge to keep it that way. He didn't want her to be involved in something dangerous because he'd brought his parents into a bad situation by becoming a vampire and it killed them.

Rude was not the word that first came to mind - he didn't know what was an accurate description for her reaction, actually - and listening to her, he learned of a fact that bewildered him. Mermaid? Was it possible for them to walk on land? She was right; he'd learnt the factually incorrect story about them and that made him determined to find out the truth from her. What should he say in response to her being a mermaid? "I see." It was hardly the best reply, but it was all his jumbled mind could assemble at the time. "I would imagine that learning how to speak any language would have been difficult at first." He honestly didn't believe that there was much point in communicating with animals as most of their thought went to eating. "It is impressive." He was impressed and found questions popping into his mind that he could not say because they were too personal for a third meeting.

"I would rather not linger upon the fact that we are anything but human," he admitted. "I do not think that has any bearing upon teaching or learning Swedish." After all, a mermaid could teach a vampire without many problems, as far as he was concerned. Perhaps they needed to go to the library now, and he rose to his feet in the hope she got the idea.

With the revelation that she was indeed a mermaid, her journal could be especially fantastical now and she would be forced to return to it later. Marit could be child-like in her curiosity with the world as a land creature would be just as curious with everything that is beyond what they are used to seeing. As quickly as her mind had been pulling up her past disappointments and frustrations, she was almost dizzy with all of the questions that she wanted to ask. He was not old; how old could a vampire be? Were all vampires born that way or were they made into one? There had been some contradiction in literature though most seemed to believe that it was the latter than the former. Oh, all the questions she wanted to ask! And then he said something that she wished for him to elaborate on--'I would rather not linger upon the fact that we are anything but human'. What did he mean by that, exactly?

He rose and then she felt it necessary to rise as well. "Ah, yes, right, I'm sorry," she stammered slightly, a little shake of her head in attempt to clear her thoughts. This is why she needed to have a journal because these questions could be hushed for now but would never really go away until they were answered. There were some things about herself and being a mermaid that she would not so easily be able to divulge, just as there must be things that he would not want to go into detail about with... well, someone that was not a close companion. The pair were proving to be agreeable companions but it was much to early to say they were close ones. Marit picked up her journal and pen and managed a smile. "Give me just a moment, yes?" With that she turned and walked back into her bungalow to slip on her shoes. She felt a need to carry something, anything, and did manage to find a book she had finished from the library that she could return.

Before she came back out, Marit took a deep breath. She did not want to say something to upset Mister Wyatt and new from prior experience that sometimes she could rattle on if she were nervous. Just as he had made her feel nervous, she did not want to make her companion any more uneasy than he already was. Her chin raised a bit, a book in her hand, she came back out and smiled for him. "Thank you. I'm ready now." Marit paused a moment in her step until he was beside her, and back to the path they began.

Talking about his being a vampire caused him to become tenser - thinking about it for too long brought back unpleasant memories fast and furious as always and he wanted today to be reasonably happy. Her curiosity was easy enough to spot on her face, but after a couple of seconds, she did not ask any questions. For that he was grateful. He also had questions in the back of his mind if he allowed himself to think about it. He slipped his hand in his blazer pocket for a moment, playing with the couple of keys on the keyring there. One was the key to the forest cottage and the other was to his safe, in which he kept letters from his mother and various pictures he found particularly touching. His trip to Europe did not allow for much room, but he needed a secure place to keep mementos of his family that he did not want damaged. Maybe, much later, he'd show her.

"No need to apologise." He disliked knowing that he made her uncomfortable in any way. Nodding at her statement, he watched as she disappeared into her bungalow and waited for her to return. Nathaniel idly wondered how many books about learning Swedish the library had, if any, but if not, it was a fine place to study. He had a spare notebook and pen for them to use if necessary, though he didn't know what her lessons plans were. Marit appeared in the doorway and smiled at him, and he returned it with a nod. The two set out on the road to town at a leisurely pace, intending to enjoy the walk. It would take a while and give them plenty of time for planning their time in the library. He was too tense to think of what to say, exactly, and inhaled as deeply and quietly as he could to push uncomfortable thoughts out of his mind.

He needed to start a pleasant conversation, Nathaniel decided as he remembered his talk with Voe. "Have you been to the Elven Palace yet? I've heard it was a very beautiful place and quite recommended," he said. It was doubtful Voe wanted anyone else in her terrority, but as Miss Larsson was his ally, no doubt she'd make an exception for her. "It's as though magic fills the rooms by the way the light shines through the windows. Voe went on and on about its good aspects." He didn't expect to say his roommate's name - it slipped out before he could help it - and thought nothing of it. "Maybe I can ask for a tour..."

A turn to pleasant conversation would be a sure distraction for both. "No, I've only heard that it stands to the north." The idea of a place being filled by magical light was enough to encourage Marit to smile further as her imagination moved away from vampires and mermaids to elves and all sorts of magic. Maybe the palace would be something out of a story that she had read with princes and princesses and possibly a dragon--but a nice dragon, not a cruel one as she could not believe that all dragons were cruel. "A tour would be lovely." While she did wonder whom was Voe, the flow of their conversation began to steady and Marit asked, "Have you seen the glassblower shop yet? What a skill!"

So on the pair went, back and forth, neither of them having been to places that the other had and even more places to which neither had ventured since their arrival. It was just the sort of conversation that Marit needed with a leisurely walk on such a nice day. Though one question had crossed her mind--were not vampires creatures of the night? But then she talked about the sweets shop and the little children that hang around it. If she were so inclined, she might try and work there, though she did not share this with Mister Wyatt. What better position could one be in than to hand off sweets to adorable children?

There were more people on the path the closer they came to town but they did not so easily distract Marit. Before long, they had arrived at the library, which she found to look much more pleasant in the day. There had to be some books in Swedish or about learning Swedish. If not, she could always make a list of basic words and phrases that would be most helpful in these early stages. She remembered how difficult it was for her to learn, but then again, English as her second language came on with great ease. Maybe it would be similar for Nathaniel; on that hope, the pair entered a haven of comfort amongst the many books and found a suitable table that would not disturb others.

They were able to find one book for the time being, another children's book of the alphabet and related pictures in Swedish. "Jag är lärare. Lärare is teacher. Student is student, easily enough." To say teacher, the r's sounded like rolling waves as he had once stated. Already, she though that it would be good in the future to write him short sentences and letters that they could pass back and forth to help with the reading and writing, and then he could read it all aloud to practice his speech.

He had to see if Voe was in a good mood to give them a tour, but he was sure he could persuade Voe. Her biased opinion made him wonder if the Elven Palace was all that spectacular, but she did not seem like the type to lie. He admitted that he hadn't been to the glassblower's, but now that she recommended it, he might have to visit it. He always appreciated good works of art and glasswork could be impressive, agreeing with her.

Arriving at the library, he glanced around and followed her to find a book they needed. They settled at a table in a quiet area and he immediately focused as Marit opened the book while trying not to feel uncomfortable with reading a children's book. The sentence was simple with 'jag' obviously being the subject and 'är' the verb. Form of to be. He could remember that. "Yes, it is simple. Jag är lärare," Nathaniel repeated and winced as his accent was noticeably different from hers. Southern accents and Swedish didn't mix as well as he hoped. As all things, it was only a matter of practice. "Jag är lärare." This time, he tried harder to copy the way she said the sentence. "So jag means I, correct? What are the other pronouns?" Pronouns were always important part of a language and it was best to learn "I" and "you" to learn in conversation, he thought.

Wishful hoping made him think of what it would be like to talk to her in Swedish, expanding his knowledge. This was just the beginning; he wanted to learn as many languages as possible, but first things first. Swedish was lovely so far, or maybe it was just hearing the language from her. He withdrew his notebook from his pocket with his pen, scribbling down a couple of notes from listening to her speak so far. He was a constant note-taker and had several journals filled with shorthand to help him learn medical information or anything that needed memorising.

"Your persistance will prevail," she gave as he settled into 'jag' and 'är' and nodded at his correct assumption. "Yes, jag means 'I'. To say me, say 'mig'. To say you, say 'du'. To say we, say 'vi'." Marit spoke slowly and watched as he wrote in his pocketbook and then she repeated the words. "Jag," one hand rose to her chest, "du," a finger pointed to Nathaniel, and then it pointed between them, "vi."

She opened the book and found a picture of a boy and a girl playing in a sandbox. To the boy, she placed a fingertip above his and and said, "Han." Then she moved over to the girl and said, "Hon." To the sandbox to tapped, "Den. It." Marit could not help but wince a little and asked, "Is this too slow for you? I've never taught anyone a language before and this is very much like I had been taught both Swedish and English. Thankfully, you are already capable of speech. I never realized how much patience my tutors must have had over the months it took me to speak and to listen."

Marit remembered that she had a notebook with pictures and sentences with missing words. After each of her lessons, she would have to sit and remember what words went in the right order. She was afraid that Nathaniel might think that she were somehow belittling him with the children's book and the pictures. It might do them both some good if she were to find someone that was an actual teacher that could give her some assistance on how to give better lessons. Then again, perhaps she was taking this much too seriously and it would not be a pleasant experience for him at all. But she did not want to convey her anxieties and straightened her shoulders up again.

He listened to her explanation of the pronouns and did his best to commit the words to memory. It seemed as though they were easy enough to learn due to the similarities between a couple of pronouns in Swedish and English. Jag and du - all right. There was something about the word 'vi' that he liked - it was a strong, flowing word. He asked how to spell the words so he could write them down in his notebook in a decent organised fashion.

Han, hon and den added to the list of pronouns and he wrote those down as well as the English translations. She was right; teaching him at this pace was a little slow, considering his level of comprehension. "A little." Speaking and listening at an age beyond that of a young child was probably difficult for anyone and he met her eyes at her comment. "I am willing to go somewhat faster, if you don't mind teaching me." A glint in his eyes told her that he was ready for a challenge and he wanted her to take him to the intellectual limits. Learning the language by plunging in head first was something he could handle, he was sure of it.

He'd complete her notebook within no time - now Nathaniel was determined. Very, very determined. For a second, it was as if he could smell her fear and gave her a small smile to reassure her. That made the second smile in one day, no easy feat for him. Smiling around her seemed easier, because talking to her eased the tangles of tension in his stomach. Perhaps he could have fun to some degree.

"I don't mind at all. Let's begin with introductions..." For half of an hour, Marit did most of the talking but her enunciation was of most importance so that Nathaniel would not miss anything. While he might have been feeling that his Southern accent was a bit of trouble, Marit reassured him that to change an accent was something that took good work to overcome but it could be done. As she told him in Swedish, "I sound like a very natural Swede, yes? But then I have learned to speak with very clear English as it is one of the most widely spoken languages."

"I have an idea and I will be right back." Her smile was broad as she rose and walked down to the end of the shelf. Her hair, which she had left down today, flowed a bit behind her and splashed against her lower back. At another table were note cards and pencils for jotting down the call numbers of books so people could find them again later on. She picked up two note cards and one little pencil and made her way back to her student. As she returned to her seat, she tucked a bit of her hair behind her ears and laid the cards in front of her.

"I will write you message of which you will have to decipher. On one card, I will write you the message, and on the other I will write all of the English words but jumbled. Just to make things a little more of a challenge for you, I am going to add four additional English words to the mix." She paused a moment, looking at the card thoughtfully, before she took to writing the Swedish message first. Marit took her time, even though it was with a pencil and would not smudge as terribly as ink might, just to make sure that all of her letters were clear and precise.

As she went to write the English words, she teasingly cupped a hand over the card so that he could not be able to see which words she would write first, as she was going to have to write them in order of the sentences to make certain that she did not neglect any. "This is a few lines out of the beginning of the story of Nils. I bet you will already be able to pick up quite a bit." The teacher read it over once, twice, and then slid both cards over to him, each line written with plenty of space if he chose to write the English words below the Swedish:

"Eftersom du inte vill gå i kyrkan med mor och mig," sade han, "så tycker jag, att du åtminstone kan läsa predikan hemma. Vill du lova, att du gör det?"

"Ja," sade pojken, "det kan jag väl göra."

Och han tänkte förstås, att inte skulle han läsa mer, än han hade lust till.

you, thought, he, me, yes, said, at, do, is, it, to, come, promise, will, more, least, read, reading, church, service, since, not, boy, mother, easy, felt, not, with, and, the, can, do, home, like

He listened intently to her explaining introductions and enjoyed it more than he thought possible. His pronunciation was still shaky and so that would take the most time to perfect. He didn't know if he wanted to change his accent to a Swedish one, but maybe that was something he'd think about and change his mind later. Her English was very clear and he nodded in agreement. The mention of her having an idea intrigued him and he watched her leave to another table.

Notecards and a pencil? What plans did she have up her sleeve? He looked at her writing something down, but didn't see what she put on the paper. It was meant to be a secret, then. Deciphering a message was more his style, a riddle that he couldn't wait to solve. Excellent. "All right," he said. "Do I do this now or later?" He wondered if she would give him homework like any other teacher. "Will I be graded on this?" His mouth remained expressionless, but his eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement. It was almost his way of - no, impossible.

When she gave him the card to read, he studied it carefully before slipping it into his blazer pocket. They decided to call the lesson over for the day and wandered over to various aisles of books, browsing through them in case there was anything that interested them enough to borrow. Nathaniel headed towards the reference books out of habit and curiosity, wondering what medical texts they had. Perhaps there was anatomies of unusual races for him to study - imagine that! If he had the urge to resume being a doctor soon, he'd check those out. Right now he decided to go to the fiction section for some light reading. Yes, it was a little childish of him to want to read something, but he felt uncharacteristically spontaneous at the moment.

Marit saw Nathaniel look over the references and wondered what he might find to be of interest. Nothing of that sort was ever really something that grabbed her attention. Marit seemed to be engrossed in the fiction section and found two books that were in languages that she had not recognized, which furthered her curiosity. There were a few different books of the science-fiction genre, and those questions from before began to crawl back up into her head. But she worried that novels and stories would simply mislead her thoughts and beliefs.

Instead, she found a classic novel that appeared to have been well-read by others, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. She opened it to a random section and read roughly a paragraph before she closed it and put it back on the shelf. When he was closer, she told Nathaniel, "I might scare myself silly if I read something like that at night." She smiled a bit, sheepishly so, but she had stumbled across a book called Carrie by Stephen King that seemed innocent enough, a story about a girl--that went terribly and horrifically wrong and she had nightmares for weeks on end.

Further up, she had found the original story of The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen--the story that inspired the movie she loathed! Her examination of the story had become somehow very serious as when she head opened it, her brow furrowed and she seemed to peer down at the words much like Nathaniel might have done to some of the reference books. Finally, Marit decided that she did not want to read this one, either, and put it back. Perhaps her blossoming friend and student had found something of interest and she wandered back over to him. As she watched him looking over the books, she smiled a little to herself without realizing it.

As geeky as it may be, Nathaniel enjoyed looking at various encyclopedias, including botanical ones. He found it intriguing to read through plant entries to learn their formal names and classifications and the same applied to reading about animals. Evolution, in particular, interested him, especially when it came to comparing older to newer animals of the same species. Just another topic he wanted to learn. He lingered over the reference texts before moving to the fiction, his gaze as intense as it always was.

He completely missed Marit browsing next to him until she spoke to him and he saw that she held Frankenstein in her hands for a moment. In his opinion, he hadn't found the novel to be so frightening, but people had different standards and levels of tolerance. Nothing bad about that. "Probably better off trying a different genre," he said, stating the obvious. He hated horror films, finding them to be worse than novels, not so much because of the gore, but because the killing was so senseless. He imagined if he saw a film now, he'd hate one even more as he was a vampire now. Continuing his search of the fiction section, he studied each title and debated if it was worth his time to read the back.

It was a few minutes before he realised that he needed to pay attention to his friend and turned to see her pause over a certain collection of stories... and then it struck him what she might have browsed. He said nothing. "See anything interesting?" Nathaniel asked. "I'm debating whether or not to read Thoreau, because it is dense material. Maybe not the most interesting. Or I could go in a completely different direction and reread Douglas Adams. Funny science fiction. My secret shame." Then he actually winked at her.

He had been so easily lost in the vast shelves and aisles of books that Marit could not help but think that this is what she must look like when she watched the lake. This place had put Mister Wyatt at the greatest of ease and she did not doubt that this was the most relaxed he had been since their first meeting. Even the tension that he had carried with him from the revelations at the front of her bungalow all had melted away. She wondered what he was thinking and how he went about choosing his books. He was so much more worldly than she, even in his choosing of what to read.

Marit looked over the books in front of him for a moment and then back to her friend as he spoke. When he winked, she grinned like she had not done for him before. "Well, admittedly, I've never heard of Douglas Adams but if it is funny science fiction, then I think you should read it." Because, she did not not to say this, he seemed to be in good spirits and if that would continue them, so be it. "It seems I'm stuck in what's become the classic literature." She lifted Jane Austen's Emma, her grin now softened to that lingering smile, and then held the book to her lightly.

"Where did you become so exposed to so many different types of stories and authors? Universities and proper schooling? I've always been curious about those sorts of places. I had been to one or two for visits but it would have proven to be a little difficult to show up one day with no papers and without certain necessities from formal education." She spoke softly as someone passed them, a look of determination on their face as they must have been on a search for something specific.

Perhaps he spent too much time in the libraries when he was younger, but the quiet and the wealth of knowledge in them always hooked him. A library was a safe haven, he was sure of it, and if there was a blood bank in here, he'd never leave. She guessed correctly by noticing his tension had disappeared because now he focused on what he was going to read this week. Her grin helped him relaxed even more. She smiled frequently around him, it seemed, though he was not complaining. He preferred to think that she was a naturally happy person and smiled no matter who the company. If she cast her vote for Douglas Adams, he was more inclined to read.

Nathaniel found the books he wanted and gathered them in his arms before glancing at the novel she held in her hand. It was not one he'd read nor did it particularly interest him, but he was not going to say that to her. It was hardly polite, of course. "It's much better to fill your mind with the delicacies of literature before reading more common novels. For a comparision. Who knows, you might not like various classic novels." Not all of the 'classic' literature was incredibly good, after all.

He considered her question for a moment before answering. "My parents were literary buffs and encouraged me to read as much as possible. But I suppose if I hadn't had them doing that, schools were the main reason my literary horizons expanded. Set readings and I remember reading extra books on biology and things. As a young boy, I was fascinated with animals and so was my brother. We caught a couple of toads once and kept them in a terrarium." It disgusted his mother, but Adam had managed to persuade her to let them keep the toads. "They're not the prettiest creatures around, but my fondness for them remained." This little speech of his was one of the longest he gave to her and was truly a sign of his being comfortable in the library.

"Toads are lovely little creatures. I've noticed that not many land people are fond of them, though. I suppose along the lines of cleanliness, they are more of a hinderance than a help." She had been taught very early on that it was important to be clean when on land, always, and that everything in one's home should be tidy and neat. Marit could picture a little Nathaniel, looking almost exactly as he did now but without facial hair and maybe that on top of his head was a bit more unruly as a youth, and a smaller boy that looked much like him, playing with toads.

She liked that he was sharing bits about himself and knew that as companions and conversationalists, sharing was good for both. "The first time I had a ever seen a duck, I wanted one. The first I had seen of them were their little webbed feet and their underbellies and I thought that they were just the--the strangest creature ever!" Marit giggled softly and added, "Well, that of course was because I hadn't realized that there was actually a top half to the duck that I could not seen from where I was. So I went up and tickled his feet, which he seemed to like, and then I tried to pull him further into the lake with me so we could keep playing. Poor thing, I must have given him the start of his life."

They began to move down the aisles again and to the little register where you would have to sign the little cards to each of the books. Marit decided to be somewhat modest this time around and only brought her single selection along. Besides, she would have to make up a workbook for Nathaniel and she wanted to make sure that distractions would be limited so she could make something really useful for him. "Don't forget your homework assignment amidst your books," she teased lightly, "because I heard the teacher has an awful punishment if you forget." How Marit could do anything awful seemed an impossibility, but she had a wry smile on now and one might never be able to be certain she could not do something surprising.

Hearing she liked toads as he did lifted his spirits. "They are a misunderstood animal, that is certain. I must agree with you about the cleanliness factor - I had to clean the terrarium at least five times a week." His brother managed to get out of the tidying most of the time for a reason he could not quite understand. One might have expected Nathaniel to be as serious as he was now when he was a young boy, but he had surprised people by telling them jokes. (Lame ones, but that was besides the point.) Given the time and opportunity, it was possible that he'd share more about himself.

Ducks! He almost smiled then at her story. Anything without a head would look strange to anyone from that angle. "Their webbed feet are great!" he exclaimed. Her story was cuter than his - more interesting anyway. "I can only imagine what they would have looked like to you for the first time." He paused for a second to imagine a small Marit mermaid curiously tickling a duck's feet and pulling it deeper underneath the water. "You must have been sorely disappointed to see that he was unable to breathe underwater."

They headed to the desk to check out their books, Nathaniel with three compared to Marit's one. Even though a book was not very heavy, he knew it was proper for him to offer to carry it for her. Her subtle threat was not missed and he took it seriously. "I won't," he said. "I've known to be a star pupil in the past. Always on my best behavior." The corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he offered to take her book for her before they left the library. They were only a couple dozen paces outside before Nathaniel noticed a stand with a brunette and a man who looked like her brother, proudly displaying a sign that said "Join the Music Festival!" His gaze lingered on the stand for long enough that it was obvious where he looked.

They were having a simply lovely day in the library and in one another's company. "Oh," she groaned, "I was very,very disappointed. I've always made an effort to feed them treats in a monumental effort to amend how I could have drowned that poor little creature." Truthfully, it was also because she thought that ducks probably talked to one another much like any other creature did and she was fairly certain that the duck she inadvertantly attacked must have told every single other duck that he or she had come across. She never wanted one to waddle up to her and quack something to the effect that she was the fish-girl that had tried to drown his brother's-best-friend's-sister's-husband's-niece twice-removed. It would really be best if she tried to keep piece with all of the ducks.

"Thank you," she said softly as she put her one little book atop his many books. "You know, I can see you being a very good student and indeed the star pupil." It was not hard to imagine, actually, and she could not help but give a little giggle; a littler version of Nathaniel, with a little bow-tie and polished shoes and a very serious but attentive look on his face. As they walked out the door, Marit noticed that he looked very fine carrying the books in his gentlemanly manner. It was during her observation of his mannerisms that she noticed he saw something being posted. Marit, standing beside him, followed his gaze and read over the poster's shoulder.

"A music festival? That could be entertaining." Marit looked up at her friend a moment before she began to walk a little closer to the man hanging the sign. "Excuse me, sir," she began, "I was wondering what kind of music will be performed at the festival?" She was not usually the first person to make an approach and ask questions--she rather preferred to figure out as much as she could on her own and then ask--but it seemed she had an extra bit of confidence about her at the moment.

Poor young Marit. "You may have hurt the king of the ducks," he said in a small attempt to make a joke. Realising saying that might have distressed her, he added, "Although you probably can make amends with it and whole duck-kind, so no harm done." Nathaniel nodded; it was no problem for him to do her favors like this and he was content to continue whenever it was possible. Maybe he was just a sucker for making his friends happy. He didn't notice her watching him and headed to the stand with her.

Caden almost laughed at being called sir. Did he look that old? Ugh, he hoped not, because that would be disturbing. "Hello, ma'm!" he greeted. "Any kind of music will be played with the exception of electronica and techno because we don't have the equipment or the power availible. Anything else is fair game. So what's your cup o' tea? Ballads? Folk music? Flute solos?" He grinned with a mischevious smile. "I can provide the latter if you're interested in singing. A beautiful blonde like yourself always brings in an audience." It was a crime if he didn't flirt with her while he had the opportunity, though it was only playful.

Nathaniel narrowed his gaze; he wasn't sure he could trust anyone who flirted with someone so openly to someone he just met. He was about to say something when the brunette, Cara-Jane began to speak. "So how about you?" she asked him. "Do you sing?" She looked as though she really wanted to hear the answer and he shifted his gaze away from the woman, uncomfortably. No, he didn't sing - and he never tried to sing. It just never seemed something he'd do. "It's nothing to be worried about! This is a completely pressure-free thing." Even though she reassured him by saying that, it did not make him feel any better. It was still performing in front of people.

Marit was vaguely familiar with some of the genres of music named, less with the electronica and techno and more with the folk music. "Ah, no, I've never really persued an instrument or vocal skills, unfortunately." She almost became a little shy, the flirtation not something that she was really all that comfortable with, and she folded her hands politely in front of her. The other woman's direction to Nathaniel brought the mermaid's attention over and she could recognize both his uncomfortability and her own.

She took a small step back to stand beside her friend and admittedly she too was curious to hear whether or not he was the sort that could and would sing in front of an audience. "Do you?" she asked softly, an eyebrow raised gently. It seemed all were in wait for his answer, adding to the pressure.

He hated to answer in the negative to the two. The fact of the matter was that he had no idea if he could sing. "No," Nathaniel said and tried not to feel guilty about it. "I don't know if I can." He furrowed his brow and he must have looked so pathetic that the other man took pity on him. Or, an odd sense of pity, because the suggestion that came next was so embarrassing, he didn't know what to think. Singing something here? In front of them? Oh, Lord...

"Just something brief," the woman - Cara-Jane as her name tag - said and his stomach swirled with nerves. What should he sing? Was this really necessary? He inhaled and decided to sing the first song that came into his mind. Unfortunately for him, that was "Joy to the World." His voice was a decent baritone, shaky from nerves, and Nathaniel only managed to sing a couple of lines of the song before he lost confidence. Cara-Jane smiled at him after he finished and clapping gently. "Very nice! I think you could totally do something at the festival."

He had already been persuaded into singing, which was bad enough, but now she thought he could perform? Something had to be done to inform her as politely as possible that he was not interested in the slightest. "I don't think so." It came out more bluntly than he intended. His shoulders tensed and he hunched over slightly as his anxiety returned. Nathaniel disliked the fact that he was put into an awkward position like this and hoped the two would be more interested in asking Marit to sing or something. (Though he didn't want Caden to play his flute with her for some reason.)

During their time together, Marit had come to take some attention to her dear Mister Wyatt's mannerisms. It was not hard to mistake the cheerful and of course quiet air about him when they were in the library, picking over books and beginning to delve into their childhood discoveries and interests. But since finding the poster and what he must have felt was an interrogation into his possible musical abilities, it seemed that the cheerful air was being replaced by the anxiety of being at both the center of attention--which neither of them appreciated--and a strange feeling of obligation that one must participate in the festival.

Much as her hand had done once before, Marit slipped it into the crook of his arm and smile brightly. "That was lovely." And it was; if they had asked her to sing, she would have turned very pink in the cheeks and stammered something about how she did not have a song nor was she a singer. "Ah, well, Cara-Jane," she asked as she took notice of the name tag, "when must all performers be signed up? We need time for song selection and-and, um, you know, that sort of thing." Did she just say 'we'? The English of 'vi' and implicating oneself in the company of another? Oh, her cheeks felt a little pink now. She had in no form attempted to attact herself to Mister Wyatt's performance, if that was his intention, but rather to buy them a moment in which they could politely slip away.

His arms were stiff as he stood in front of the stand and her touching his arm was a welcome distraction. Nathaniel glanced at her, the relief apparent in his eyes. He had to let them down gently. The compliment warmed the back of his neck and he tried not to dwell upon it for fear of improper... thoughts. She had the smart idea of asking about the sign-up time - maybe he could say he would think about it but not come back and she just said we. Did that mean she would - ?

Cara-Jane's smile remained bright as she turned to focus on Marit. It was perfectly understandable to wait before deciding on the song and she hoped that the two were still going to be interested to return! "The deadline is two days before the festival. That should be enough time for you to practice with music," she said. "I hope you two can find a suitable song. It would be lovely to see you on stage together." She did think the two made a lovely pair, after all.

"Good. I will think about it," he said, nodding at them and took the opportunity to leave the stand to walk down the street by her. Once he was farther away from the two, he could breathe easier. Singing in front of an audience wasn't him. Nathaniel still felt slightly nauseous from performing in front of three people, so what would he feel like in front of a larger crowd? He exhaled and looked at his feet as he continued to walk. "They're probably desperately looking for people, if they... don't mind me." He frowned.

Marit actually blushed a little when Cara-Jane gave a last word that was also something of a compliment. "Yes, thank you. Good day." A little nod to Cara-Jane and Caden and the pair were off again, away from the persuasion of two seemingly nice people. Her gaze floated just in front of them until Nathaniel spoke and they both frowned, but for different reasons. "I don't think that at all, Mister Wyatt, and neither should you. Perhaps they believe they see a special singer's spirit in you. It was very brave of you to have even given what you had." Yes, she saw his singing as both sweet and brave.

It was then that she realize her hand remained at his arm as they continued. It felt nice there but then she feared it might not be entirely appropriate or welcomed. Slowly she slipped it away and both of her hands came together, folded in front of her, as they often were found. "Are you to really consider singing at the festival?" There was an air of confidence in her question, a twinge of hope, as her gaze shifted from the road to the books he held before him. It would be one of the braver things that either of them would be able to do, given that neither liked the attenton of many.

Nathaniel tried not to think about what Cara-Jane had said and pushed it out of his mind as they walked away from the stand. Honestly, he knew that the two meant no harm with their comments, but they still unnerved him. No, the whole idea of singing in front of people. He furrowed his brow even more before turning his head to look at her as she spoke. Her words were kind if he could believe them. It was not the first time he wished he was better than people's expectations. "Thank you," he said. Special singer's spirit? "I am not sure that they really saw any kind of spirit inside me." Who knew about those Australians. Or maybe it was their abilities. "I did not want to d-" Disappoint you, he was about to say but stopped before the words left his mouth. Too inappropriate.

His stressed thoughts made him forget about her hand on his arm until she removed it and his expression remained as if nothing had happened. He disliked admitting that he hadn't exactly been telling the truth when he implied he might sing, but he had no choice now. "I'm afraid not. I am just not the type." It was easy to see that he was too interverted to do such a thing. "Adam was - " Nathaniel shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "I am not well known." He had no idea why that would matter as much as it did. No one cared if he were to go and perform on stage, was all he thought. There were times when he was convinced his mind was out to get him.

He did not want to what? It was obvious that this was stressing her friend more than she had anticipated and she did not wish any sort of ill upon him. Marit could not be disappointed as she was not a singer and did not have the nerves to stand in front of so many people. Had she not been so happy on her wedding day, she might not have faired in front of that congregation, either. When he mentioned his brother's name, it pained her some to think that to sing might bring up memories that are now attached to the saddness of having lost a dear relative. She looked up towards him in response, "My friend, no one here is well known. It is not my place to ask you to sing if you do not wish to, but do not let something small prevent you from taking part in something that is destined to be a very good time for all who want it to be good." Her words were soft, kind, not at all forceful or with the intentions of guilting him into singing.

"However, if you do not wish to sing at the festival, I must ask that one day you sing something for me. Singing is not your secret shame, after all." With that little jest, her elbow lightly nudged his arm, and then they continued to walk in what was quickly becoming the early evening. Had they really just spent so much of the day in the library? It was not that she minded, not at all, but time was a funny thing when you were spending it with someone whose company you enjoyed; there never seemed to be enough time in the day. They were heading down the path back to her bungalow and she thought for a moment that she should offer to take her book and allow him to head to his own residence. Wherever it was, it was certainly not the bungalows and it was a fair walk from the bungalows to virtually anywhere else. However, she could not bring herself to attempt to send him on his way just yet, and so they walked a little further on.