Crackplot!

[hniit]

Nita is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the main room, with her book open in front of her, deep in concentration

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[sirbeaumains]

Gareth is most likely at the cottage, looking around for something. Growing impatient, he calls to a brother or a wife or a sister or whoever's about, "Has anyone seen--" and stops. For it didn't come out as he meant it, but for some reason, he can't bring the English words to mind.

[perilous_lady]

"Sweet heart, thou know'st I cannot speak thy tongue--"

[sirbeaumains]

"I-- I do not understand thee," he says apologetically.

[perilous_lady]

"Gareth?" She frowns, coming closer.

[sirbeaumains]

He brightens-- he understands that. "Yes?"

[perilous_lady]

Lyonors takes his hands. "Speak to me."

[sirbeaumains]

He shrugs, at a loss as to how to reply.

[perilous_lady]

Anxiously, "What's wrong?"

[sirbeaumains]

He can read the anxiousness, at least. "It's probably some magic of this place," he says, trying to sound reassuring.

[perilous_lady]

"Dear love. Canst not speak?"

[sirbeaumains]

"What?" he asks helplessly.

[perilous_lady]

So Lyonors hugs him, resting her cheek against his hair (perils of marrying a tall girl).

[sirbeaumains]

"It'll pass soon, I'm sure," he says, leaning against her in turn. "I mean, the things here always seem to." He continues in this vein for a bit before realizing that, since she cannot understand, maybe it is better to just shut up.