For almost two years Malik looked for a sign, some urgency beyond his control to bring her from under the spell. He had been so ready before this time had come. She said he would know he hoped both of them were right. He sighed taking one last look around.

In the far corner of the room, the large tub, formed, chiseled and sanded out of a large oak trunk. Steam, heavy with the scents of herbs dropped into the bath, rose from the hot water. She had slept for along time, both would help her unused muscles. Along side of the tub, on a stool, was set the journal Malik kept. Everyday was written down, so when the time came, she could catch up on missed events.

Everyday he wanted to wake her, and now the time had come to past Malik was nervous. “I’m a dolt!” He whispered perturbed at himself.

It had been almost two years ago. Sadness, turmoil and loss, she cast the spell. She could not give up on life; she just needed a break from it. And before her she shut her eyes, she whispered the words to Malik to bring her back.

“What if something happens to me!?!” He asked in despair.

“Then I shall not return,” she spoke softly, succumbing to sleep.

“How will I know, when?” He shook her for an answer.

Her eyes opened to slits. “You will know,” she whispered.

Malik took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he kneeled by the bed, he had repeated these words over and over to himself, and his first question to her when she awoke was what they meant. Sliding her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, he leaned close and whispered.

“Nearly twae years pass. Coiasira sii’a’kuile, Chaunii.”

Eyes peered over the bed next to where Malik knelt. “Wake yet?” A small figure grabbed at sheets to help get her to the top of the bed. “No, but soon,” he smiled at the scrambling child, standing up with her in his arms. “I am pretty positive, a bad little elf is not the first thing she wants to see when she does awaken.”

He stood back with the squirming elf child in his arms and waited…..