With different eyes

The solution to the riddle or the beginning of the storm

"That's Tengwar," I say, surprised. "I beg your pardon?" asks Marco, irritated. "Tengwar." I say, "A writing created in my world. It part of a story!" I say thoughtfully. "An invented font? Why do you know it?" asks me Marco. "Orlando Bloom in tight pants and teachers who don't like notes in class, plus three, way too curious brothers." I say absentmindedly. "Orlando Bloom in tight...you know what I don't really want to know. You can read those squiggles?" he asks me. "A while ago I could, but today I'd need time," I say, still absentminded. I sense Ace's displeasure. "What is it?" I ask still in my mind. "You were eyeing that guy?" he asks me. "Yup, surprisingly, I used to be a 15-year-old teenage girl too. Ask my mother, she remembers it badly," I answer laughing. "You didn't learn any language for me," Ace says sulkily. That's cute. "No, I changed the whole world for you," I say with a grin. "That's right," says Ace laughing.

Marco hits me on the back of the head. "Why?" I whine, rubbing my head. "Concentrate! What does it say?" says Marco. "I don't know it!" I tell Marco. "You said you could read this!" He grumbles. "Yeah when I was 15 years old, how long ago do you think that was?" I grumbled. "Ten years into the future!" he says dryly. "Uhu I'm a kid, how original. Find something new, that joke is getting old!" says I. "But your joke with the pineapple or my devil fruit." He grumbles. Haruta is watching us by now, which at least means she's alive enough to take her head off the table. "There's a difference between our jokes: Mine are funny," I say with a grin. Haruta blows into the cup and Marco growls. I turn my attention back to the book. I need a sheet of paper so I can deduce the characters again. Some I still have in my head. "BORING." grumbles Ace. "Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?" I ask regardless of Ace's nagging. "I thought you couldn't read this anymore!" says Marco. "Well I can't read this fluently anymore. But with some time and logic I should be able to decipher it. Unless it's Sindarin or Quenya, then it looks grim," I say dryly. "What is that now?" asks Marco, annoyed. "The language developed to the writing," I say. Marco's mouth opens to ask, but I beat him to it and say, "I don't know the language at all. Only the writing!" I say annoyed. "How come you can do one but not the other?" he asks me. "Well it was a super secret writing, for math class. My old math teacher used to read the notes aloud." I explain. "Aren't you supposed to study in math class?" asks Marco with a grin. I grin too and say, "I did, just not math. Those were socioeconomic studies!" Marco laughs out loud and asks, " Do you can think of an answer to everything?" I nod and stand up. 

"Where are you going?" asks Marco. "To hunt for a pen and a piece of paper." I laugh. "You can only get those in the torture chamber!" Ace tells me. I grin and wave to Marco as I walk away with the book in my hand. Off to the library, I hope to find what I'm looking for. "I never thought I would enter this place voluntarily," Ace laughs as I continue down the hall. "You don't! I go in and you whine!" I laugh. Ace is silent, but I sense his amusement. In the library, I let Ace guide me to the pens. In the corner is a dusty desk on which a candle still stands. "A shame," I say sadly. "What?" Ace asks me. "To let this desk fall into disrepair. It's beautiful," I say. And it really was, it was a massive desk made of dark wood. Lilies were carved on the edges, the work was very delicate. I look around and search for something with which I can wipe the table clean. And there on the shelf I see a rag. I grab the rag and pull it down. Stupidly I whirl with it the dust of felt a few years down. I start to sneeze obsessively. Ace is laughing his head off. Thanks a lot. I go over to the table and carefully wipe the dust off the table. "It's even more beautiful than I thought," I say in amazement. In the middle of the plate was a carving of an island in the sea. This was covered by a glass plate that leveled the table. "You're right, it's really beautiful," says Ace. "I will put this table in your room," I tell Ace. "And how are you going to do that?" says Ace. "I'll wait and you drag the table into the room," I say. Ace laughs and I sit down at the table to decipher the text. "This is going to take a while." I mutter and grab a piece of paper and pen. I set to work. I write down the letters I still know and the ones I suspect mean what they say again. When I am finished, I translate the letters. I fill in the gaps with logic. When I am finished, I lean back exhausted. That was more exhausting than I thought. I rub my tired eyes. Then, finally, I read the text completely: