Page 14

FENELLA

I t was Fenella's last night in the Hobbit before the trip to Egypt, and the thought was discomforting and exciting at the same time.

It was strange how the nightly performance had become her routine, her life.

Every day, she found herself looking forward to the start of her shift, and she knew she was going to miss it.

Still, at least Din was accompanying her on the trip, so she wasn't leaving behind every aspect of her new life that had brought her stability and satisfaction after half a century of uncertainty and constant vigilance to just survive.

"You are quiet," Din said, his hand tightening over hers.

"I'm thinking about tomorrow." She glanced up at him. "Hard to believe that after all the delays, it's finally happening."

He nodded. "Still scared about going?"

"A little, but I want to go. I want to help find Esag and maybe Khiann, if Esag can help with that. It would be nice to find out whether my ability can contribute something meaningful instead of just entertaining drunk immortals."

The truth was that Fenella wouldn't have minded if her ability were only good for entertainment. In fact, she might have preferred it because it placed much less responsibility on her shoulders, but she felt indebted to the clan and the Clan Mother.

"I like watching you entertain people. Anyone who's bringing smiles to people's faces is doing a better service to humanity than most."

"That's so sweet of you to say." She stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "But are you planning to sit in your corner every night I work? Even after we get back?"

"Where else would I sit?" He arched a brow. "Would you prefer if I sat at the bar?"

Had he misunderstood her questions, or was he pretending?

"What I meant was that you must have better things to do than watch over me every night for hours. Won't you get bored? There must be something else you'd rather do than watch me pour drinks and make up stories."

"Like what? Sit at home and watch television?" He shook his head. "I'd rather be where you are."

It was touching, really, but it was a bit obsessive. "If the roles were reversed, would you want me sitting in that corner every single night, just watching you work?"

He considered this as they passed under a large oak tree. "I would, but what would you rather do?"

Fenella thought about it for a moment and realized that she would have most likely done the same thing.

"Most nights, I'd want to be where you were.

I'd want to be near you. But some nights.

.." She smiled at the image forming in her mind.

"Some nights I'd probably stay home, run a bubble bath, pour myself a glass of wine, and watch terrible movies or reruns of shows I've seen a dozen times. "

"That sounds lovely. Maybe I should try that. Though I'd probably read instead of watching television."

"Of course, you would, Professor."

"We complement each other. You introduce me to the joys of mindless entertainment, while I bore you with archaeological journals."

She bumped his shoulder. "You don't bore me. Much."

"Such enthusiasm." But he was smiling. "We should put in a request for our own place when we get back. Somewhere we can both have terrible movie nights or reading nights as the mood descends."

"I've already done that," she admitted. "Not officially, but when I visited Ingrid's design center, I implied that we would like our own place when we return from Egypt."

"Good." He lifted their conjoined hands and kissed her knuckles. "It's time we let Shira and Thomas have some peace and quiet."

"Did either of them complain?"

He shook his head. "No, but I don't want to overstay my welcome. By the way, we could visit Scotland if you want. I can show you the castle, introduce you to my mother…"

She definitely wasn't ready for that. "Let's not plan too far ahead. I prefer to take things one day at a time."

"Of course." He smiled tightly. "No pressure."

As they got closer to the Hobbit, Din suddenly slowed considerably as if they had all the time in the world.

"Come on, we need to hurry, or I'll be late." She tugged on his hand.

"Atzil can manage by himself for a few minutes." Din gestured at the sky. "It's such a beautiful night. The moon is almost full. We should take a moment to appreciate it."

"We can appreciate it after my shift." She pulled on his hand again, but he seemed determined to dawdle. "Din, seriously. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I just think we rush too much. Always hurrying from one thing to the next without stopping to?—"

"You're stalling." The realization hit suddenly.

Was he reluctant to share her with her audience, wanting to have her all to himself for a little longer?

"I'm not stalling. I'm being philosophical about the passage of time and?—"

"Din."

"I'm serious."

"Right." She stopped pulling and stepped closer, reaching up to touch his face. "Are you jealous? Do you want to keep me all to yourself?"

"You caught me." He leaned into her touch. "Am I being ridiculous?"

"A little bit." She rose on her toes to kiss him quickly. "But it's sweet. Now come on. I don't want to be late on my last day."

When they reached the Hobbit, Fenella noticed something odd.

The windows were dark, as usual, the shutters preventing the light from leaking through to the outside, but it was also quiet.

The Hobbit wasn't soundproofed like the residences in the village, and usually she could hear chatter and music as soon as she turned into the pathway leading to its front door.

"That's weird," Fenella said as Din reached for the door handle. "Is anyone even there?"

"Let's see." He opened the door, and as they stepped into the dim interior, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. But then, the lights suddenly blazed on, and the bar erupted in whistles and applause.

"Surprise!"

Fenella gaped, processing the scene.

The bar was packed—fuller than she'd ever seen it before. Banners reading 'Good Luck in Egypt' and 'Don't bring back any Cursed Mummies' hung from the ceiling. Every regular was there, plus faces she didn't expect to see.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "You knew about this?"

"I may have been informed that my stalling services were required."

"I'm going to kill you later. Slowly."

"I look forward to it."

Atzil walked over, his chiseled jaw squared in an almost comical grin. "The guest of honor has arrived." He pulled her into a brief embrace before letting her go.

Still reeling, Fenella let herself be pulled into the crowd. Hands patted her back, voices called out greetings and jokes. Someone pressed a drink into her hand—whiskey, neat, just how she liked it.

"Speech!" someone called out, and others took up the chant. "Speech! Speech!"

"Oh no," Fenella said. "I don't do speeches. I do psychometric readings."

"Then read something!" Morrison suggested, producing a bar spoon. "Tell us what this spoon thinks about your trip!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Fenella felt herself relaxing. These were her people, her community. The panic receded, giving way to warmth.

"Fine." She took the spoon with exaggerated ceremony. "Let's see what wisdom this spoon has to share."

She closed her eyes, making a show of concentration. The now-familiar tingle of the brooch seemed to pulse against her chest, and for a moment, she felt something from the spoon—countless hands, endless stirring, the satisfaction of creating something that brought pleasure.

"This spoon is having an existential crisis," she announced.

"It's thrilled that I'm going to Egypt because it's always dreamed of stirring ancient cocktails.

It wants me to find a recipe for Cleopatra's favorite drink and bring it back.

It has aspirations, people. Don't let its humble appearance fool you. "

The crowd laughed and applauded. More objects appeared—a bottle opener that apparently yearned to free ancient wine from archaeological sites, a cocktail shaker that claimed past lives as various vessels throughout history.

"Your turn!" Fenella called out. "Who wants to try reading me?"

What followed was a hilarious reversal. Her regulars took turns 'reading' various bar tools, each interpretation more ridiculous than the last. Graham insisted a corkscrew was writing her memoirs. Someone else claimed a jigger had commitment issues because it could never hold on to liquid for long.

They were terrible at it, but that was the point. Their attempts were filled with inside jokes and references to past nights, a greatest hits compilation of her time at the Hobbit.

"Alright, alright!" Atzil called out eventually. "Enough amateur hour. Let's have a proper toast. Whiskey for everyone, on the house!"

The front door opened right as a cheer went up, and Fenella's jaw dropped as Kyra entered, followed by her sisters. All of them. Even Soraya, who looked extremely uncomfortable but determined.

"I can't believe you came to my bar."

"We had to come," Soraya said, chin lifted. "We couldn't miss your send-off."

Rana leaned to whisper loudly in her ear, "We were curious about this den of iniquity you work in."

"It's cozy," Yasmin offered diplomatically.

"I can see why you love it," Parisa said.

Behind them, Arezoo slipped in, looking radiant in a way Fenella hadn't seen before. She'd done something with her hair, and was that lip gloss?

"You look amazing," Fenella told her.

Arezoo blushed. "It's Laleh's doing. She said I couldn't come to a party looking like I was going to clean houses."

"Everyone!" Atzil called out, raising his glass. "A toast to Fenella, who has brought magic to the Hobbit. May your journey be safe, may your discoveries be plentiful, and may you come back soon because I can't handle these drunken idiots alone!"

"Hey!" several people protested, but they were laughing.

"To Fenella!" the crowd chorused, and drinks were raised and downed.

"I believe this calls for entertainment of a different kind," someone said—MacGregor, one of the Guardians. "We can't send our lass off without a few songs."

What happened next would be burned into Fenella's memory forever.

Three Guardians began singing in harmony, their voices filling the bar with Scottish ballads. She vaguely recognized the songs from her youth.

The crowd swayed along, and Fenella was swept up in the sounds of those deep voices that reminded her of home.

"Clear the floor!" Tavish called out suddenly. "We need space!"

People pushed tables and chairs back, creating a clear space in the center of the bar. Fenella's eyes widened as two Guardians produced swords and laid them crossed on the floor.

"Seriously? You are going to do the Highland sword dance for me?"

The guys grinned and assumed their places.

The three who had sung before started singing again, and the dancers began their performance, their feet moving in intricate patterns between and over the blades. The crowd clapped in rhythm, and Fenella noticed Kyra's sisters joining in, their faces smiling and alight with joy.

This was what she'd always wanted without realizing it. Not just safety, not just a place she could hide in, but a community, belonging, the freedom to celebrate and make as much noise as she pleased without fear.

When her eyes misted with tears, Din wrapped his arm around her middle. "You okay?"

"Perfect," she said, and meant it.

The acceptance of these people melted the last sheet of ice protecting her heart, this community that embraced her with open arms.

Another dancer took the floor, and this time, people began joining in around the edges, attempting Highland steps with varying degrees of success. Jasmine pulled Ell-rom into the mix, laughing as he tried to follow her movements. Even some of Kyra's sisters were drawn in.

"Dance with me," Fenella said to Din.

"I don't really know how?—"

"You're a Scot. It's genetic."

"That's not how genetics work."

"Din." She took his hand. "Just move your feet and make your woman happy."

His resistance crumbled at that. "How can I refuse when you put it like that?"

They joined the dancing, and Din's movements were not at all awkward or amateurish. Instead of her guiding him, he guided her through the steps, patient when she stumbled, delighted when she got it right.

When they took a break from the dancing, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you."

"For dancing? You forced me."

"For this." She gestured at the people around them. "I know you had something to do with organizing it."

"I may have mentioned to Atzil that you deserved a send-off. The rest was all him and your admirers."

"My admirers?"

"Love, half of this village adores you, and the other half just hasn't met you yet."