All three men looked at each other, simultaneously shaking their head and murmuring no’s like they were disappointed to not be able to offer more.
Then Ram asked, “What’s an ogre?”
She gave a brief summary after which Ram said, “Well, then we may have been wrong. Sounds very much like a description of Sol.”
Laughing softly, without looking up from the salt and pepper he had been arranging and rearranging, Kay said, “It does raise an interesting question though.” Everyone turned to Kay who stopped fiddling with the condiments and lifted his eyes to Elora. “If there are no elves in your world, then how do you know about elves?”
At that, trays arrived with the main course, which gave everyone time to consider the implications of the question. Elora stayed in Kay’s chair, neither requesting nor offering to switch back. In the infirmary she had eaten what she was served without caring to ask for dish names or ingredients. Now she was more interested in the subject. She inquired about the nuts used in the chicken breast topping. Storm asked for a bite which she fed him from her fork, not realizing that the simple act, initiated innocently, can imply the sensuality of foreplay. He hummed approval and confirmed that the crust was laden with pecans.
After asking about every other entree on the table and sampling each, she turned to Kay and said, “Are you thinking that elves lived in my dimension in our prehistoric past? That’s what it would have to be, since there is no pictorial or linguistic record. Or are you thinking that there was an elfin visit to my dimension and it caused enough of a stir to become part of the race consciousness?”
“Something like that. When did elves first appear in your literature?”
“I’m not an authority on the subject, but I’m thinking between three and five hundred years ago?”
“Sounds like a visit, accidental or otherwise.”
"Like in Accidental Tourist?"
Kay nodded. Every time Elora discovered a parallel between her world and this she relaxed a little more.
She continued, with no discernible segue. “Ummm. What’s a berserker?”
All three of the men were amused by the abrupt change of subject. Storm explained that the berserker gene, which causes rage behavior, is triggered by battle circumstances or threat of violence and that the rampage fever, once engaged, is almost impossible to subjugate until the berserker perceives the threat is neutralized. They went on to explain that berserkers weren’t usually candidates for Black Swan, but that Kay had more tolerance than usual for situations of extreme stress. Storm said with a tone of pride that Kay had mastered his demon.
“So you’re saying berserkers go out of control?”
Ram barked out a laugh, “Out of control? Wacked up insane mother f**kers is what they are.”
Elora stared at Ram, not so much because she was offended by the language, but because Ram made even the word “fucker” sound appealing somehow. Storm and Kay joined her in staring at Ram, but for different reasons.
“What?” Ram asked innocently.
“Where I am from,” Elora interceded, letting him off the hook, “your accent would be typical in a place called Ireland. Is there such a place here?”
Ram looked delighted by the question. “Aye. ‘Tis my home. We have had a truce with fairies for two hundred years. We do no’ go to Scotia uninvited and they do no’ cross the borders of Ireland or Wales. Except on preapproved business.”
Elora nodded thoughtfully.
Ram took another bite, then, as an afterthought asked, “Do you like my accent?”
Her eyes slid sideways, pleased that he cared to ask. “Sure,” she smiled and gave a beguiling little shake of her head. “Musical.”
“I would like to hear these fairy tales,” he said ‘fairy’ like it created a bad taste in his mouth, “but would like them all the more should they be called elf tales.”
Elora laughed out loud. The joy of the sound was contagious. All three men were affected, but, after Storm had witnessed every step of this woman’s metamorphosis from blob of quivering gore to the stunning creature now sitting across the table, he felt his heart swell with a longing to hear it again.
Two more times during dinner she reached over and carefully pulled Ram’s hair back from his ear. Storm was starting to wonder how anyone could possibly be attracted to a pair of ugly, misshapen ears. Couldn't she see that's why he kept them covered with hair that couldn't decide what color to be or which way to go?
Throughout dinner several of the knights came by to be introduced, to Elora and Storm did the honors. She shook hands and repeated every name back in hopes that she might remember. The knights were not all as tall as Storm and Kay, but every one of them looked like athletes, well-proportioned with hard bodies and flat, muscular stomachs. Storm was trying to be patient, admonishing himself that he would be curious too, but the table was starting to feel like a receiving line. It was impossible for Storm to tell whether others were fascinated because she was an extra-dimensional alien or because she was extraordinary when held up to any lens. Of course there was always the chance they were just going out of their way to make her feel welcome because of chivalry, but he wouldn’t bet on it.
When the dessert course, which was Black Forest cake with raspberry sauce, was set in front of Elora, she expressed uncertainty about the look of it. She didn’t think dark brownish black was an appetizing color for sweets. That prompted a question about chocolate in general which led to an admission that chocolate did not exist in her reality, so far as she knew. In the infirmary, she had heard about it on TV, but had never seen it personally.
With all three dinner companions insisting that she give it a try, she eventually acquiesced, picked up her Wallace silver fork and took a bite. As soon as the mixture came in contact with her taste buds, her eyelids slid closed, and she began moaning. She didn’t stop moaning until every crumb of the cake was completely gone from her dessert plate. Storm and Ram both watched transfixed, with parted lips, responding to the sensual sounds of approval in ways that made them shift in their seats, repeatedly, and breathe deeper.
Kay, who had just spent a very satisfying three months never far away from the bed of his wife-to-be, observed the reactions with amusement, resting his elbow on the table with hand over his mouth, barely suppressing outright laughter.
Elora finished her piece of cake that had been portioned to satisfy a rugby player after a game, and looked at the empty saucer as if she was struggling to keep from licking the plate. Her eyes then came to rest on Storm’s untouched dessert. Without a word he shoved it across the table. She beamed, politely asked, “Are you sure?” and then dived in before he had a chance to rethink the offer. In minutes the second dessert saucer was empty.