An Ordinary Day

LIMITED word translations, sentence structure, and pronunciations, at: Niadlic Language under dictionary and phonetics. Every other translation needed is in the article.     If it weren't for the sirens blaring, one might think it any other spring day on West Flapjack, the southernmost and most populous of The Pankake Islands. The eerie Scandinavian breeze was rattling the city eaves, downtrodding afternoon shoppers as they trudged through waves of rain that mimicked the ones upon the frigid sea. Children were locked away in their houses, watching cartoons, while their parents discussed such small things as sports or the weather, anything to pass the time. If it weren't for the watered down blood that seemed to follow the armored government vehicles down the street, the cries of mothers who would never see their children again; children who would never see their parents. If it weren't for the "undesirable" and "suspicious" people all naked in a line, flightless birds about be poached for sport. If it weren't for the gunshots that echoed through the square, and the endless stream of obituaries on televisions around the country, it could have been almost normal. But, it wasn't. It was March 21, 2021, the date of the worst massacre in 23 years. A date I could never forget, as hard as I tried.   In a unique condominium near main street, the secret headquarters of Project Hope, the only resistance organization that even stood a chance against the Hogan-Daweson regime, a girl walked dejectedly down the hall. Gwen had always hated to be the bearer of bad news, something I discovered not long after meeting her (I cant believe it's been over a year,) and today was no different. Especially when the news was this bad. She turned corners and peeked in doors, wandered down halls and into bedrooms, looked everywhere, until she finally strolled up next to the unlucky receiver.   "There was another execution today," Gwen said, her voice somber. "They got Yara."   At Gwen's words, all light and color drained from the girl beside her- the girl she had sought out. I watched in horror as Apple Tree's once rich brown hair and dewy olive skin washed out and became grey as the storm brewing inside her, making her look years older than 18. Her warm brown eyes lost their signature glow, and all hints of a familiar smirk had disappeared. The glass she was holding released itself and shattered upon the floor, much like her heart. The Apple I knew-my best friend- was gone. "Yara was my best friend. Before Neely, before you. Before anyone. And now she's dead," she said, voice trembling. "And soon we'll all be too."   "Apple," Gwen cooed with a gentleness reserved only for her, "Honey, don't say that. That's nonsense." Apple's eyes were brimmed with fire as she lifted her head to face her girlfriend.   "I'll stop saying that when it isn't true."   "Apple."   She violently grasped Gwen's shirt collar, pulling her down to her height. Gwendolyn's long golden hair took a second to catch up with her, bounced around by the sudden motion. "Look around you for once in your life? People like us are dying- every single day- Every single day Gwen. I'm not safe. You're not safe! They will find you, and they will kill you. Because what we have here? That's illegal." Apple heaved a sob. "How could we be so stupid. Why. Why. What were we thinking?"   My insides went cold. In my nearly 2 years of knowing Apple, I had never seen her break. Or be so down to earth. No one had. Gwen's lip trembled with fear. "No, we'll win this time. We'll make it. If not together than apart."   Apple seized Gwen's shoulders and shook her in desperation. "How are you so naive? They'll use me to find you, you idiot! What part of that don't you understand?" She suddenly released Gwen, and looked down at the tear drops staining her socks. "And I don't know if I can live in a world without you."   "No, we'll survive. We have to." Gwen looked into Apple's eyes as their color returned. "What if we ran away together?"   "But Project Hope..." Apple drawled.   "They can take over the government on their own."   "But-but It's not right. We started this, we have to finish it."       "Perhaps there's another way," I said, emerging from behind a corner. Apple and Gwen nearly jumped at the sight of me. Before now they hadn't a clue I knew they were dating, let alone that I was listening to their conversation. Gwen blinked, blue eyes wide. "Eniliád Waishínilspíl. How long have you been listening?"   "How long have you known?" Apple added on. Her cheeks were ever so slightly tainted pink.   "Months. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I can help."   "Sure," Apple smirked, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. "How?" I could tell she was skeptical.   "Niádlíc."   "What?"   "I can teach you Niádlíc."   Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Neat party trick, but how exactly would that help?"   "You can speak and write as romantically as you like, and I would be the only one to understand you," I replied, smiling mischievously.   The couple considered my offer for a moment, and before long Apple lunged forward to hug me. "Thank you so much! That actually might work." She nearly knocked me over.   "Anytime, tis what friends are for, " I smiled, a hearty chuckle bubbling in my throat.   Gwen laughed back. "As long as you stop listening in on our conversations."      

"Í ril nilay amanani g'nola lou arlís- nal nimeÞ í cora. A soul believes unsure futures in youth, if only to protect a heart."

Niádlíc proverb

    A freshly sharpened pencil was nestled behind my pointed ear as I sat at Apple's bedroom desk, toiling over papers and parchments of all types. I pulled out the utensil and twiddled it between my fingers, allowing my wavy hair to sheet down my back, a frothy platinum waterfall. The closest I had ever come to teaching another was back home in my cave among my people, trying to teach my cousin to dutch braid. Though the end result looked less elegant maid and more birds' nest, I was satisfied I even tried. But teaching a language, that would be much more difficult. There was the syntax, the grammar, the writing system, the pronunciation and conjugation of words. Still, I did not allow my confidence to wane. Language was my specialty, savior, and only solace. Though I hadn't created a gust of wind that wasn't intentional of late, let alone a tornado or thunderstorm, my writing was still the only thing over which I had complete control. If I couldn't control my magic, at least I could control my words. But what if I couldn't? My words were as much a part of me as my powers, and yet, the latter had failed me time and time again-worst when I most needed them. What if the former followed? Zoning out in my thoughts, for the 17th time this week (I counted), the sounds of the house blurred into nothing but my breathing and the far too slow ticking of the clock on the wall. The clock on the wall! They were supposed to be here five minutes ago! A moment later, Gwendolyn Brickwelle came bounding into the room, shirt on backwards and noticeably frazzled. Apple followed soon after, an unmistakable twinkle in her eye. Understandably, I tried to block the image of what they had been doing from my mind. I resisted the urge to gag, as, unsurprisingly, I couldn't. But, I could change the subject.   "Ilaþ, ul elem brin nal ys. Ul elem vou, solail?" They looked at me confusedly. "Hello, it is nice to see you. How are you today?" Gwen shrugged, while Apple simply sat beside her, a stupidly large grin on her face. "All right. I suppose we must start with the Alphabet. Our vowels, first normal and then accented: A, pronounced 'aw' as in saw or 'ah' as in 'cat.'" I, pronounced 'ee' or 'ih' as in hit, U, pronounced 'oo' as in goo, or 'ou' as in foot. O and E do not have accents, being pronounced 'oh' as in snow, and 'eh' as in bed. Then we have our vowel combinations, which have their own symbol in Zimaren. That's the script Niadlic is written in. 'Ya' as in 'Booyah,' 'ow' as in 'cow,' and 'ay or ai' as in 'hay.' Did you get all of that?" their blank stares were enough to say that they in fact did not absorb a single word. I sighed dejectedly. "Alright. We shall start over. From the top."     "For the last time, it's called Niádlíc, not Nymphic, Gwen."   "What if I cant pronounce that?"   I smiled forcefully. "I swear, five more minutes with you two and I'm going back to Nájwist Eldiz- which means "hidden woods" if you care."   Apple looked up from the flower she was doodling on her paper. "Wait, so there's a whole freaking forest in there? I thought it was just like a tree or two."   "There is a forest. An entirely separate climate as well. It's usually warmer, more humid, and almost pleasant inside. We can grow many crops, which greatly aids our trade with other Creatures. The blackberries are particularly divine."   "I never thought I'd say this, but I think I want to live in a cave," Apple said through her teeth. Gwen silently agreed.   "Shall we resume our lesson?" My question was a bit more curt than intended, but their distraction had become irritating.   "Sure," Apple answered. Her voice was too nonchalant to be encouraging. It wasn't 10 minutes before I was interrupted again. What am I doing wrong? Apple is always a good student. Am I a bad teacher? Is my lesson too dull? Or are the two just curious? "Why are you so distracted," I mumbled, unaware she could hear me.   "Sorry, ran out of ADHD meds."   "Oh. That explains it."   "Dryad school must be tough, if this is primary school stuff." Apple stretched while she spoke. I looked over at Gwen. She had actually fallen asleep. Let me guess, not enough coffee? Defeated, I answered my friend's question.   "Niádlíc is actually one of the easier magical languages. Be glad I'm not an elf. Northern Elvish grammar could be completely reconstructed and I would still not be able to understand a word."   "That's terrifying, coming from you."   "They have seventeen tenses. SEVENTEEN!" My volume accidentally awoke Gwen.   "Father Yule?" She said deliriously. I winced.   "Anyways, back to our grammar. Adjectives usually come after nouns."   "Like Spanish?" queried Gwen.   "Like Spanish." Finally, someone was making some connections. I never expected it to be Gwen, but...I continued on. "And always be careful of which version of that noun you use."   Apple cocked her head, her short bob swishing back and forth. "Why?"   "My great great grandparents on my father's side almost separated because my great great grandmother-a Tree Faerie- accidentally told my great great grandfather, a Half-Mer 'Iþ melora ul," instead of "Iþ alora ul." Gwen grimaced. "Harsh, but I can see why. Considering she just called him an object."   "It's even worse than that. In that context, 'Iþ melora ul' means roughly 'I own you-you are my slave, but with a creepy predatory connotation."   An ill look spread across Gwen's face."Ok. Oh wow. Yeah I would have dumped her too." For the next 15 seconds nothing but an awkward silence filled the room.   "Hey Apple, Iþ alora ul. El Iþ desirnal mif ul."   Apple blushed. "Awe, I love you too. Now get over here, you perfect dork." Gwen moved over to sit on her girlfriend's lap, allowing her to boop her nose as one might touch a kitten. Well, at least they had learned something. Even if it was to flirt. I groaned. Nonetheless, it was a distraction from the horrors of the outside world, a fleeting glimmer of hope that kept them going...   Yes, if not for everything- and everyone- that wasn't, it might have been another ordinary day.