|| Frost bite ||

❄️To Journey ❄️

Naim Lebethron would proudly describe himself as practical, not easily provoked and calm. There were very few times, he could claim, when he got actually angry or exasperated.

But now, sitting as a pacifier between two bickering teenagers who seemed very insistent on fishing out the mystery of the destroyed shelf of the Archive even after a whole week, and a set of twins who had pledged to watch his torment, he felt like knocking them out just so that they would shut up.

"Both of them were males," Tarwen said for the sixth time in that argument.

"One was a girl, for sure," Celon argued back, planting his fist firmly into the table to emphasise his point, "they said that one was much slimmer."

"Boys can't be slim? That's your logic?..."

And so the argument went on.

Briefly, Naim wondered if it would be a good idea to sew their mouths the next time anything interesting happened.

Lazily, his eyes drifted towards the twins, who sat huddled together on the bottom most step of the stairs, snickering every time a sign of frustration escaped him.

They were not helping at all.

Instead, his eyes drifted to the falling rain outside the window. The first rain of the season was indeed very welcome, though it might have been a little odd time. Thanking to it, the receding chill of winter had somehow managed to return, though at a lesser intensity.

Another loud voice and a snicker reached his ears, and he was positively sure that if that happened one more time, he'd make sure they had a bump on their heads.

"Guys," he said, attempting to keep his cool, "why don't you just collect more information?"

Tarwen and Celon stared at him uncomprehendingly. Then, thinking it to be a better idea, they nodded, and went out into the rain.

"I didn't mean now!" Naim groaned. Rebecca's gonna kill me.

The ones who had been snickering till now broke into open laughter. Briefly, he wondered what had happened. Half of the day had passed, but they haven't yet fought, argued, thrown taunts or tried to kill each other. Early in the morning, they had bickered a little about "missing" half moons and such, but never again.

"Peacemaker?" Eäron asked.

"Peacemaker," Elanor agreed.

It was sometime after that the Naim realised they were looking at him, and understood that title belonged to him now.

"Look," he said, still attempting at a decent conversation, "you've got no right to impose any title upon me without my approval."

"No one said we don't," Elanor said airily, "it's not a rule."

The twins were inadvertently saved from Naim's rare, but dreadful wrath, by the doors creaking open to reveal a thoroughly soaked Celon.

" Um," he started while wiping his face clean of water, "Renolf's calling you three."

There it goes.

"Any particular reason?" Naim asked. Better to be safe than sorry.

Celon shook his head.

The said twins stood up. "Someone's going to get into trouble," Elanor remarked, resting her elbow on her brother's shoulder.

"And it doesn't look like us, for once," Eäron added, before ducking out from under her arm.

Naim sighed. It would be a long day.

❄️

The first look at the Renolf's hall profoundly said that the gathering was not because of someone getting into trouble.