"One day a lovely young lady goes splat on the floor at our feet and voila! What was theory just a moment ago is now a fact.”
After dinner things usually got very quiet in Jefferson Unit. Knights went out on patrol. Trainees were busy with homework and non-resident personnel went home. Elora frequently visited the infirmary after dinner and Ram went along because, as he said, he had nothing better to do.
The young man who had been admitted at the end of Elora’s convalescence was slowly healing and expected to make a full recovery. He was still bedridden and eager for company. No one understood that better than she.
The first night she visited, she tried to establish what would serve him best. He said he didn’t have the energy to carry on much of a conversation, much less play games, but would love it if she would just talk to him. She asked if he would like to hear stories from her world, typically told to children, but loved by everyone. He said that sounded perfect.
So she began by saying the collection of stories were called fairy tales. Ram shot her a mock dirty look. “Excuse me, I meant to say elf tales. I almost don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with the one you like best,” Ram suggested.
“Good idea.” From memory she retold Snow White, trying not to leave out the important details. After that she began writing out the stories so that she wouldn’t forget anything critical in the telling.
Every night, when they left the young knight’s room, Ram would look smugly amused and say, “That was a stupid story.” But the next night he would be back again pretending to be bored.
One of the highlights of the week was Monday morning brunch and karaoke. With hundreds of years to iron out a system, The Order had determined that people in high pressure jobs – and vampire hunting qualified - needed to balance that with big doses of frivolity. The knights were not the least shy about their vocals or lack thereof. They sang even if they were tone deaf. One of the big hits was always a group of nurses who sang girl group songs. Neither Storm nor Kay could carry a tune and their performances were stiff, but, curiously enough, there was an entertainment factor just on the other side of awful.
The other regular star was Ram who was a mockingbird. He could do anything he wanted with his voice. He could sound like an angel or like somebody who had smoked several decades too long.
One thing that was not tolerated at Monday morning Karaoke brunch was spectators. You either participated or they showed you the door. After weeks as an onlooker, the day came when someone started a chant to get Elora to the microphone. Like everyone in her clan, she’d been singing all her life, but since she had no experience singing solo in front of others she was paralyzed with stage fright.
Seeing her blanch, Ram leaned over and whispered in her ear that it was not a test of singing, but sportsmanship. That seemed to be enough encouragement to get her out of her chair to the front of the room. She picked a song she knew from the list and proceeded to stop the show with her passionate, husky alto.
Amid whistles and shouts of approval, Kay leaned over to Ram and said, “She sings like an elf.”
Ram, whose dreamy-eyed gaze was still locked on Elora said, “Aye. She does at that.”
The day came when it was time to go to the next level of Blackie’s training. He always seemed to be expecting Elora’s arrival because, when she came into view, he would be standing, looking through the chain link with bright eyes, big ears standing up at attention. Today he allowed himself to emote one wag of the tail. They always began with a chicken treat tossed into the cage, but today they were going to a new level. She was going to offer the treat from her hand.
She approached the cage, closer than she had ever been before, speaking quietly, holding out the treat. He watched her intently, wanting so badly to keep his gaze focused on her face, but not being able to resist looking down at the treat.
He allowed her to stand just on the other side of the fencing. He was tense, deathly still, his body language was broadcasting unpredictability, but she believed he was worth the gamble. She put her fingers, holding the chicken treat, through the chain link, knowing he could easily snap them off if he chose. After a few tense seconds he sniffed her hand, sniffed the treat, then ever so gently withdrew it from her fingers.
She wanted to leap in the air with a victory whoop, but forced herself to remain still and quiet so as not to startle him at this critical moment. “Good boy,” she whispered. Then he surprised her with the unexpected. He looked from her face to her pocket to see if she might withdraw another treat. She chuckled. He kept his attention on the pocket and wagged his tail twice. She decided that was indeed worth another treat.
After three days thus, Elora decided it was time to get inside the cage. The key to the large padlock was kept on a lanyard hanging from a wall hook a few feet away. Blackie watched her curiously as she removed the lock. She threw a chicken treat into the back corner to get him to move away so that she could open the gate and enter without freeing him.
When he turned around, she was inside and talking to him in the same even, low tones she used to read to him every day. To further minimize any threat he might be feeling, she sat down cross legged, her back against the chain link. He sat down on his haunches. The dog was so big, that put them at eye level. Blackie regarded her with interest, clearly trying to work out the situation.
She slowly pulled out the training manual and began to read. After a minute or so his mouth opened and his tongue came out which meant he had relaxed. She could tell by his expression that he was okay with the new arrangement and that she wasn’t in any danger. After another minute he approached, lowered himself to the ground and put his head on her knee.
It was such a simple gesture, but so touching it made her heart turn over. “Good boy,” she said quietly. The next day he leapt for the chicken treat in the corner, gulped it down, and turned, wagging his tail like he was expecting her to sit down. He immediately came over, cuddled up beside her and put his head on her knee. Slowly she brought her hand over to his nose. He raised his head, sniffed her hand and offered a tentative lick.
She gambled the time was right to touch so she let her fingers drift up the fur of his cheek. He stilled, looking a little wary, but allowed it. She stroked quietly and slowly behind his ears until he leaned his head into the petting, and said quietly, "Yes, you gorgeous beast. We have an understanding."
She moved her hand down his head, over his neck and shoulders. Nothing could have astonished her more than what happened next. He threw himself into a roll onto his back asking to have his tummy rubbed.
Without thinking she laughed out loud. He raised his head to peer at her curiously, but made no threatening move. “Good boy,” she said out loud and gave him a nice, brisk rub on his tummy.
Unlike the black on his head and back, the coloring on his sides was a mix of tan and silver, and the down on his stomach was almost pure white.
She thought it strange, as much time as she had spent at the sublevel kennel, that she had never seen his caretakers. She knew he was fed and watered and that the kennel was hosed down, but had never seen anyone come near.
After two days of being used to feeling her hands on him, Elora carefully brought out the face collar and leash. Blackie looked at her suspiciously as she explained that he couldn’t leave his cell without it. The lingual explanation wasn’t for his benefit, but she might as well make sense to herself while she talked.
He sniffed the leash and sneezed his disapproval. When she began to draw the collar over his ears, he tensed and looked wary, but allowed it. Clearly the dog yearned for someone he could trust, badly enough to take a chance. She attached the leash, stood, then gently led him up and down the length of the kennel a few times so that he could get used to the pressure on his face and know that no harm would come from it.
Making liberal use of chicken treats she spent the next few days teaching him to heel, sit, and stay, using an archaic language that did not exist in this world. That insured that he would not respond to commands given by anyone else. He proved to be so smart that very little repetition and reinforcement was needed. He picked up new things quickly and was eager to please.