Petunia could understand the people speaking on the screen. They spoke a nguage she couldn’t comprehend and lived in a world of pure fiction, yet the story was clear. Admittedly, she had received some help from Titanyana in the moments of limited dialogue to identify their names, where they were going, certain key events, et cetera, but she could still interpret the story as it unfolded.

  A nd of magic, monsters, and men, infinitely more limited than the kingdoms of her time in scale, and infinitely more magical and mysterious than her world in terms of content. The characters varied in physical traits, many races with extremely different characteristics and grudges against each other unified against the greater common threat of absolute evil, fighting their way through hordes of corrupted beings to accomplish but a single goal, sacrificing life and limb to attain even the smallest of victories. A tale of deceit, trust, and faith in their fellows, honoring alliances long since abandoned and hoping against hope that the weakest of your number will find within him the strength to triumph over the greatest source of corruption and temptation to exist whilst you fight a hopeless war of attrition against an enemy many times your strength and number.

  To say this story, nay, legend, inspired awe in her would be an understatement. And yet behind the etion of every victory, a sadness welled up within her. There was the mencholy of a heroic sacrifice, every crucial win necessitated a painful loss (one of them being particurly painful to her), but there was something deeper there. Something about these sacrifices felt struck a point of vulnerability deep within her heart, something that also seemed to be happening to Titanyana, but she couldn't quite tell what it was.

  This bothered her immensely, going so far as to mellow her enjoyment of the second movie. It wasn't until the beginning of the third that she was reminded of a conversation she had with Titanyana a few nights ago, about a concept she didn't really understand. She wanted to imagine the reason behind this was because of Titanyana's inadequate ability to communicate her meaning, but she knew the truth was something much deeper. Petunia didn't have an adequate reference point to understand what she was talking about.

  Petunia didn't know what a 'hero' was.

  She had interpreted Titanyana's definition of heroic to be like that of her lineage's, noble protectors of the people who did everything in their power to stave off the impending colpse, but this was wrong. Titanyana's perspective had shifted completely, no doubt thanks to her interactions with the Terrans and their culture, which was beginning to happen with Petunia as well.

  As the third film came to a close and the occupants of the theater offered a round of appuse for the exquisite quality of storytelling, Petunia's thoughts fell into pce. She felt she had come up with an adequate metaphor as to the Strappers' role in everything. They were like King Theoden of Rohan after being freed from Wormtongue's influence. They were competent, good hearted, and capable of leading, but they were cowardly. Not in the face of battle, but in what they were willing to do. The Strappers acted according to the status quo and times past by making futile (if appreciated) attempts at preventing further decline. Both they and Theoden were unwilling to take risks.

  In a way this was respectable - a ruler's primary duty is to ensure the safety of their people. This approach was clearly wrong. Holding the status quo in the midst of an irrecoverable decline would only guarantee the end of the very people the ruler was duty bound to protect, which meant they needed to take a risk. A small chance of success was better than no chance, and those wiling to take that chance deserved to be called heroes.

  This did not mean the Strappers could not become heroes. Theoden, at the behest of his comrades, made a decision to answer the call that made him a hero, and answered the call once more to aid those who left him and his people for dead.

  There were other types of heroism too, all dispyed with painful crity in this movie. The heroism of a hero - a person of outstanding bravery and moral character defying the odds to come out on top against a powerful foe. The heroism of sacrifice - willingly and voluntarily forfeiting one's life so that other's may live. The heroism of an uncompromising will - stopping at nothing to accomplish the objective despite the mental and physical toll.

  These were acts of heroism she could see her people performing . . . and yet she could not come up with an example.

  "Petunia?"

  "Yes, midy?" Titanyana intercepted Petunia as they filtered out of the room, everyone seeming to have a different destination in mind.

  "That one man . . ."

  "With shorter hair he would look the same, yes." It wasn't unheard of for two people with minimal retion to each other have simir facial features, however the uncanniness of the phenomenon only grew when the stranger looked like the deceased. "What was his name?"

  "I believe it was Boromir."

  "Boromir . . ." Petunia brought a hand to her stomach. ". . . Boromir."

  "He was the son of the other king, not Theoden. I think his name was Denther?"

  "Denethor the Second, Steward of Gondor." Diana intercepted the two of them from behind as they approached their point of interest. "Where are we going?"

  "The pantry. I thought I should peruse our options and start to prepare dinner." Petunia offered a slight bow.

  "Perfect! I just got word that Donovan woke up and is taking a shower, and I bet he'll be wanting something of substance for breakfast before he returns to his post. Dinner might be a bit heavy for him at the moment though." Diana rubbed her chin. "I'm sure something like a sandwich will be fine. Leagues better than rations, at the very least. Did you have a question about the movie?"

  "Not a question per se, more of an interesting observation." Petunia couldn't get his face out of her head. "That, um, Boromir character, the one that sacrificed himself for the Hobbits. His visage bore a striking resembnce to my beloved."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "Please, don't pity me. The memories, the memories hurt, but they are cathartic in a way. They . . . relieve me, assure me that what we had was real, and had purpose. To regret them would dishonor him." The lights of the pantry turned on as they opened the door, illuminating rows of shelves. Most were devoid of stock, Donovan not having been interested in lugging up a silo's worth of fruits and grains, but he had brought up enough food to st them a month with careful rationing. Shockingly, most of this had taken the form of base ingredients like flour and sugar rather than something like whole apples. Meat seemed to be the exception to this rule. "What would we like for dinner? I imagine there are some recipes that are in need of recreation?"

  "I was thinking that a Beef Wellington might be nice. It's a dish from Tolkien's home country, and it should keep us busy for a few hours."

  "Hours? For a single dish?"

  "Maybe. It shouldn't be too hard though."

  - - - - -

  Sliced ham and cheese on a whole wheat(?) bun with a sauce or spread of some variety. Donovan would never cim it to be the best meal he had ever eaten, especially compared to the luxury he had been living in at the Sanctum, but it was infinitely better than the tasteless slop he had been accustomed to eating while on duty.

  "Is the mustard good?"

  "Mustard?"

  "The condiment on the bread. Does it taste good?" Donovan would have assumed the three of them were experimenting with makeup given the flour coating Diana's cheeks and nose.

  "I don't think I've ever paid attention to it, but its okay I guess. Why?"

  "We didn't have a mustard seed substitute, so I had Arc whip up something synthetic. I thought it tasted a bit like chemical-y."

  "Oh, so I'm the guinea pig now. Nice." He feigned resigned indignance

  "Donny . . ."

  "I was joking. It's fine." Donovan didn't really know what mustard tasted like in the first pce, but he certainly hadn't experienced a chemical aftertaste. "I didn't think anything tasted off, so you shouldn't have a problem. Are we sure they aren't allergic to it though?"

  "We'll be fine on that front. Even if they go into anaphyctic shock we have a ton of epinephrine."

  "And we will be administering it how? Last I checked we don't know how much adrenaline their bodies can handle."

  "Arc did some bloodwork while you were asleep."

  "Got it. What's for . . . dinner?"

  "Beef Wellington. I thought it would be a nice taste of Terran cuisine for our guests, but uh, we didn't have a few of the ingredients on hand."

  "Like mustard."

  "And a puff-pastry. We've been working on in for a while, but we haven't gotten it right yet. I'm not sure if the flour or eggs just have a different consistency or binding property from the recipe we're using, but our products have either been too runny or to thick. We're getting close though."

  A faint whirring penetrated the walls of their little dining space, followed shortly by the panicked screeching of two women. Donovan was up and moving in an instant, afraid of what might have happened given the unsupervised use of kitchen devices. Smming the door open, he was just in time to catch a floured and flustered Titanyana as she tripped over, covering her ears and whimpering in fear.

  The center of the room had become a mess, the nearby wall and ceiling spttered with a reddish brown puree. Petunia had been covered as well, slumped against the center isnd as she shuddered in terror. The culprit vibrated and buzzed angrily in the epicenter of the mess.

  "Awww." Diana shimmied past Donovan to assist Petunia, turning off the blender as she did so. "I told you not to touch anything without my supervision."

  Her scolding was met with fttened ears by both Nekh. Petunia, covered in the paste from the waist up, bowed as deeply as she could to apologize. Titanyana sank further into Donovan's arms as a means to hide from the shame.

  "Please accept my deepest apologies, Lady Diana. My Lady read what each button did at my request, and I thought I was capable of figuring out it's function from that." Diana sighed at the woman's expnation, which provided Donovan some level of amusement. "I promise I won't do anything so brash in the future!"

  "It's fine, it's fine. You go get cleaned up, I'll handle the mess with Titanyana." Diana helped the poor woman up. "And, uh, Donovan. Sorry, but you might need to throw your flight suit in the wash again."

  Donovan looked down. Titanyana had been covered with just as much flour as Diana, if not more. Her reflexes and insane speed had likely saved her the disgrace of being puree'd, but a chalky white film now stuck to his clothes. Titanyana scrambled to get away from him once this was drawn to her attention, however the damage was already done.

  - - - - -

  "I apologize for all of this, Lord Strauss, I really do!"

  "Don't worry about it, Petunia." Donovan shoved his clothes into the combination washer and drier outside the bathroom as Petunia turned on a shower. He trusted Arc with the settings for the 'floured and mushroom pasted' type of dirtied fabrics more than his own inference. "I'm just gd you didn't end up hurting yourself. My heart sank for a moment seeing you on the floor covered in that stuff. It looked a little bit too much like blood."

  "I, uh, oh." She didn't appear to have a response to that, leaving him struggling to find a vector that might continue the conversation. Well, he had one, but it would need to be propelled by Petunia's interest and memory of it.

  "What did you think of the movie? The Lord of the Rings, right?"

  "Um, yes. I do believe that is what she called it. Why do you ask?"

  "I've never seen it. I thought it couldn't hurt to ask."

  "You've never seen it?"

  "No. Never had the time. Too busy learning what I know now to be what I needed to ensure our survival."

  "Oh. . ."

  ". . ."

  ". . ."

  ". . . you didn't answer my question."

  "The movies, yes, I thought they were fantastic. I couldn't understand what they said, but what I managed to pick up of the story was fantastic. It was magical."

  "Was it now?"

  "Indeed. I don't think I've ever heard a tale as fantastical as that back home."

  "Well, this world is just about as fantastical as any other I heard of. I'm sure I'd find something simir from some schizophrenic literati if I looked hard enough." That comment earned Donovan a rare giggle from Petunia, a sound he had never heard from her. "Is there anything in particur you enjoyed?"

  "There, um, there was one thing I had questions about, but I'm embarrassed to speak of it."

  "I won't think any lesser of you for not knowing or understanding something."

  "Okay . . . what are your thoughts on heroes?"

  "Heroes?" Donovan didn't know what to think of that question, or even where to start thinking about it. "What do you mean?"

  "We, um, I don't think the Nekh have heroes in the same way you do. I cannot think of anyone willing and able to make the sacrifices necessary to qualify as a hero. That isn't to say I can't imagine my people acting heroically, but I cannot remember a specific person who fits the bill. I was wondering what you thought of heroes, and if you could remember any of your own."

  "I mean, it depends on your definition of hero, and what category of hero you are looking for." Donovan wracked his brain for a hero he looked up to at this point of time, but came up short. "But uh, I don't really have one in mind right now."

  "You don't have a hero you admire?"

  "Admire them? Sure, but I wouldn't say I have a desire to emute them. I've got a bit of a love-hate retionship with those types."

  "How so?" Donovan was regretting this conversation.

  "I don't know if it's the best expnation . . . but I don't think a hero is something I need or need to be right now. They are, uh, unknown factors in a rger game, gambling with success and failure, life and death. If you're in a shitty situation with no clear path out, then taking the risk makes sense. Risking the loss of something that would be lost anyways isn't really much of a risk at all, but doing so when you have a much clearer path to victory or success is just reckless. I can't remember who said it, or if I even remember the quote right, but they said that there is an incredibly thin line between what is considered heroism and idiocy, that line being success."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. A man who charges a much greater enemy and defeats them might come off as heroic, but if he fell just short of the line and ended up dead then everyone would think of him as an idiot. I mean, I'd still think of him as an idiot if it wasn't necessary in his situation, but in a way that's even more troublesome."

  "How so? Was he not successful?"

  "Yes, and that's the problem. Success through idiocy encourages further idiocy. You can't punish it too hard because, well, it worked, but that doesn't mean it will work every time, or even most times. If you are trying to maintain discipline and encourage the proper assessment of and response to risks then a hero might be the st thing you need."

  "Oh. . ."

  "At the same time, heroes are definitely a necessity. Even if their actions are objectively stupid, their successes can inspire future generations and raise morale. Besides, not every hero becomes one through recklessness. Some people are just gifted enough to recognize an opportunity no one else could see and have the initiative to take it. Those heroes are fine."

  "Then why don't you admire those heroes?"

  "Can't afford to."

  "What?"

  "I cannot afford to take more risks than are strictly necessary. The situation Diana and I are in is incredibly precarious. One wrong move, and everything is over for us. Even a result that is slightly disadvantageous could set us back a long time, so I the level of risk I can accept is painfully low. Diana and I even got into an argument about us attending the academy."

  "You did?"

  "Yes. I will maintain that my reluctance to avoid the academy was the proper response given the ck of knowledge at the time, however I cannot deny the boons we've wrought greatly outweighed the damages. You guys are the prime example."

  "We are?" The shower turned off, leaving Donovan to stare uncomfortably at the still humming machine. "I mean, I know there are only two of you, but haven't you the support of both the Sanctum and Holifanians?"

  "We have their support, not their allegiance." Donovan paused to think about his wording. "In hindsight, that sounded a bit imperious. I'm trying to say that nothing in our arrangements ensures cooperation forever. They could drop us in a heartbeat if they found it politically expedient, and then we would have to fend for ourselves. Having subjects of our own, subjects that trust and support our governance, grant us the autonomy we would need to start being proactive. You could say that the manpower you provide would give us the leeway to make those 'heroic' decisions we talked about earlier."

  "Mhm . . . so what does that make us in your eyes? Just a resource?"

  "I suppose you would be on a macroscopic scale, but we aren't so crude as to abuse you for that reason. Besides, happy people are productive people, and are far less likely to, I don't know, revolt?" Donovan opened the machine before it could finish beeping, extricating his clothing from the bundle and holding Petunia's out for her to grab. "The first few years might be rough given the ck of infrastructure and an experienced bureaucracy, but after we have everything in pce it should be smooth sailing and good times. I mean, you'll have to work hard, but that's how it is everywhere."

  "Hmm."

  "Well, you'll believe it when you see it. Just, uh, just remember it isn't in our interests to so you guys suffer. We wouldn't be investing everything we have in you if it was."

  cakeonfrosting