A Little More Myself

Carl had known for a long time now that there was very little chance that either himself, or Harry, could go back to the way they were before the war. Not just personality wise, no, their relationships, their abilities and skills… their physical bodies. However, after he and his brother had started to uncover ancestral roots in France… things had become more complicated.

Sure, finding old journals that were suggesting their ancestors came from a different world was a little disquieting. Especially since they were in a language that didn’t actually exist on earth. Thank goodness his own ancestor had included language primers in her possessions; his great grandmother had not wanted her culture to be lost. Now, although shocking, the revelation was not troubling. The truly complicated part had come in a bout of luck, that had Harry laughing in a rather concerning way. He and Harry had accidentally stumbled on a Greek coven performing a rite on Samhain eight years ago. Some sort of ancestral ritual that was supposed to renew fading abilities from old family lines.

Waking up with what felt like a horrific hangover and a bunch of excited chattering Greek wix had been difficult enough. Realizing that they now had pointy ears and eyes that slightly glowed was even worse. Thankfully the excitement was for someone else in their coven and not for them… until the strangers had discovered the cause. Carl and Harry had to run very fast. Apparently, the sheer amount of power they had accidentally contributed to the rite had allowed some long thought lost gifts to emerge. The coven hadn’t wanted to lose the batteries that had wandered into their ritual like confused tourists.

Hiding their shiny (literally) new features was simple enough, but it also meant that they had to be careful with their chosen professions. A lot of sensitive jobs required security around identity, which meant they had to avoid anything that could disrupt glamours. Thus, Alexis and Ferris, masters in their respective fields, had decided to take sabbaticals in order to research. They just didn’t mention what they were researching.

The conversation they had with Bill at that family get-together had prompted a rather serious discussion that both wix had been avoiding like the plague:

 The joint study where the two wix spent most of their free time was a rather cozy space surrounded by book shelves. Two desks were situated opposite the other at the very back of the room next to arching windows taking in the small island. A fireplace was installed on the right with a handsome beige marble mantel, charmed to prevent damage to the books. In front of the fireplace that had a lovely blaze crackling away merrily, was a little sitting area, with squishy forest-green couches arranged in a semi-circle around a dark brown coffee table.

At the moment, however, the cozy space did not comfort the two wix sitting in silence. There was a pitcher of water and two glasses sitting on the wooden surface of the table. Neither Carl nor Harry had so much as twitched to partake in the liquid after they had settled adjacent to one another.

The conversation with Bill had unsettled both of them enough to leave a lingering unease in the air that followed the friends throughout the next three days.

Understanding that they couldn’t simply leave this at researching the journals and hiding away anymore, Carl had asked Harry to join him in the study. Naturally, Harry had agreed, and now they both sat. Staring into the fire and unsure what to say.

Burying his face into his hands, Carl finally broke, “This isn’t getting any better, and we can’t just pretend nothing is happening anymore.”

He didn’t look up, but Carl could practically hear Harry’s cringe at the abrupt statement.

There was a sigh, and a rustle of cloth, before his younger friend spoke in a resigned tone, “I know. I still feel like a bloody git for not telling either of them anything. Years, and all we can do is wear glamours. Dark contacts help with the weird glowing as long as it’s daylight. The ears though…”

Carl snorted, “I think you know that isn’t the only problem I was talking about.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Harry practically hissed in frustration, his voice rising to a shout, “It just doesn’t make any sense. There are so many people whose hearts have stopped; people who’ve been declared dead only to be resuscitated! Why are we the only ones who’ve stopped ageing!?”

Carl listened as Harry started to pace, his own fingers holding his head up as he massaged his eyes. He himself was turning 41 in a few days, and Harry had already turned 40. Both wix had noticed with growing alarm that any sign of growth had stopped after their 30th birthdays. They both looked like they were in the prime of their lives, somewhere between 25 or 30.

They had better security on their little cottage than Gringotts bank in England had on their vaults. No one was allowed into their sanctuary unless they were invited in. Even those they could mostly trust were only allowed into the front courtyard without restriction, they still had to be physically invited into the house. The inside of their home was the only place they felt comfortable lowering any guise they donned for the outside world.

The only discussion about the phenomenon had been how to look ‘normal’, disjointed comments that cut off abruptly, or the occasional remark as they delved into their respective families. After that Halloween disaster with the Greek coven, they had not said a word about their new appearances and simply incorporated hiding the new features in complex glamours.

Hesitating for a moment, Carl reluctantly admitted the obvious, “I’m fairly sure our great-grandparents are the reason, Harry.”

Harry scoffed at that and practically snarled, “You think I don’t know that, Carl!? But it doesn’t make any bleeding sense! If that were the case, then why did my-”

His voice abruptly cut off and Carl finally lifted his head, although it felt like lead. Harry was glaring into the fire, obviously trying to hold back his emotions. The wetness in his eyes showing that this effort wasn’t working particularly well. Feeling like the least qualified person in the world to handle this, the blond wix reached out and put his hand on the youngers shoulder.

Relaxing slightly when his hand wasn’t rejected, Carl spoke, “They died. My parents, and yours. Jack…” he paused for a moment, his breath hitching, and he almost couldn’t continue when a familiar hand covered his. Swallowing and staring determinedly into the flames, Carl continued, “They didn’t come back though. You came back because it wasn’t your soul that was ejected from your body, and I came back because I didn’t die from a spell, meaning resuscitation was possible. That wasn’t the case for…”

All noise appeared to cease for a moment before Harry squeezed his hand and continued the train of logic that Carl was guessing at, “Your great-grandmother spoke about resurrection… rebirth. I remember reading the part about the natural cycle and the first-born’s souls.” He scrunched his face before ducking his head and finishing, “You think our coming back triggered something.”

Sighing, Carl let his head fall onto his chest and replied in resignation, “There are no other records that we have been able to find about the species our ancestors claimed. This is the only thing that I can think of little brother.”

Harry tensed under his palm. Carl looked up to see the black haired wix staring at him in shock, a myriad of other emotions at play in his wide green eyes.

Smiling sadly, Carl released the other’s shoulder and leaned forward to pour himself some water. Harry did so as well as soon as he finished.

The silence seemed slightly charged, but the two sitting next to each other were much calmer now than they had been only moments before.

Carl snorted when Harry said nothing more. Under his breath, the blond thought of a certain little boy he had been dreaming of, and muttered, “Never though I would match Maeglin.”

The sound of a glass hitting carpet had Carl looking over at Harry in confusion. The other had wide eyes and a mouth that was hanging open. He was about to ask what was wrong when Harry beat him to it.

In a croak, Harry asked, “You dream about them too?”

Today, it was mid-December. Carl, now 44 years old, was reading in one of the private study rooms offered by the magical Library of Alexandria. Harry was had opted to go to the magical district of Rome instead, as there were archives separate from the library. Looking up at the clock, he was quite startled to realize that it was well past six, meaning he had been here for over nine hours.

              Sighing, Carl put all of the materials he had finished with onto a trolly outside the room so that the workers could put everything back. Then, he put those that he still hadn’t finished onto a tray and put it in his individual cubby. The workroom was split between several people who used reserved tables to pour over documents that could be thousands of years old without risking damage.

              Making his way out of the building proper and starting to navigate the complicated tunnel system built into a seaside cliff, Carl considered his options. They were still struggling to find some sort of solution for he and his heart brother’s predicament. Neither of them could figure out how to proceed either.

Based on their ancestors’ journals, they would not be dying of natural causes anytime soon, and they had no idea what would happen if someone killed them. Both Carl’s great-grandmother Írimë and Harry’s great-grandfather Amrod had passed away, but they had no way of knowing whether their spirits returned to their own world or not. Another problem was that because their ancestors weren’t from this world, they had no idea what to do if anyone ever found out their secret. No way to explain what they were or how they had stopped ageing without being suspected of black magic.

When Carl reached the exit, he paused a moment to allow himself to adjust to the sunlight. Egypt tended to have a later sunset in December and it kept throwing him off whenever he came outside. Especially since it was still incredibly warm in this area. Trudging back to the hotel, the blond pondered what to say to Harry. While the other had gone to Italy, he would be coming to stay with him tonight. They had planned to discuss anything they had found and try to decide if it would help.

Knowing that they couldn’t exactly undo what had been done, Carl was beginning to wonder if trying to fit themselves into a world that was becoming so foreign was even worth the effort. Also, if it wasn’t truly worth it, then what was the alternative? Their ancestors had no idea how they had fallen through to our world. Hence, neither of the two wix had any idea how to go about reversing the process.

Sighing at his own cyclical thinking, Carl meandered his way through an open-air market. He was beginning to think that he and his brother should start looking into alternative areas of study. Their sabbaticals were a good excuse to start broadening knowledge, and their own areas of expertise weren’t really bringing in any sort of results even after so many years had passed. Combing through the journals had only helped them so much. Sure, they had context and information on the world of their ancestors, but Carl’s great-grandmother and Harry’s great-grandfather couldn’t tell them everything. The journals hadn’t been the only thing left behind, both of their elvish ancestors had written what the two would count as legitimate books about Arda and its history. The dreams about Maeglin and his family were interesting and provided what they believed to be information about current events on Arda. Still, they had no way of bridging the gap between this world and the other.

Merlin, they didn’t even know if they wanted to. Their family was also here, even if it wasn’t by blood. Time kept moving forward and their world changed and adapted with it. The only stagnant ones were them. Blimey, Carl was giving himself the beginnings of a migraine.