Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #22. Nightmares command my dreams.

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non.

Rating: NC - 17
Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bi, B-Mod, Bond, Death, D/s, H/C, HJ, Humil, Language, M/F, M/M, Minor, N/C, OC, Oral, Preg, Rim, Spank, Violence, Voy, VS, WD, WIP.

Archive: Original - misc. > Slash-male/male
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism. Please rate if you do not want to leave a review.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance of places and characters to actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Authors Notes: For review replies, comments and thank you's go to: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14530-polinues-marines-the-would-be-mage/

Summary: Leyjen realizes just how dependent Polinues is on him, and how desperately he must protect the boy.

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Chapter 22. Nightmares command my dreams.

The cloister was quiet and dark, not a soul in sight, as he climbed the tree outside the window, jumping in on the second storey, and eased the massive shutters closed to keep out the winter cold.
He tiptoed down the carpeted hall, towards the stairs, his room was on the third floor but the tree wasn’t high enough.
When he reached the landing he stopped short, his booted feet suddenly icy cold, and a shiver ran up his body, so violent it hurt.
Gasping for breath Leyjen saw his breath steam in the air infront of him, and a sudden tug in his chest made him realize what he was feeling.

“Polinues!”

He gasped as he turned and bolted down the stairs to the ground floor.

The little boy’s room was empty, the sheets and covers of his bed rumpled and tossed to the floor, the wash basin in pieces on the floor, water dripping from the tipped over pitcher.
Leyjen looked around the room quickly, making sure that the boy wasn’t hiding in some dark corner, when he didn’t find him he stopped, drew a deep breath and concentrated on that tug in his chest.
An image flashed in his head.
Polinues sitting alone in a drift of snow, hiding in a corner of a stone laid wall.
Which could be almost any building in the compound.

Leyjen stopped on the front steps, scanning the white blanket that covered the ground in deep banks, trenches had been shovelled clear between the buildings, along the cobbled lanes of the compound, but everywhere else there were piles and piles of snow, a new layer that had fallen just a couple of hours ago obscuring any trace of tiny footsteps.
Leyjen’s heart hammered in his chest so loud he was sure it could be heard for miles around, his hightened senses could feel every person’s presence within the compound’s walls, and it made it that much more difficult to focus on the one person he needed to find.
He resisted the urge to call for the boy, knowing that would only arouse the sentries, and then he would have a whole lot of explaining to do.
Explanations he was not willing to share with anyone.
Instead he focused on the tug in his chest, letting it lead him on, even though he knew it might take longer and that now every second counted.

The connection he had made with Polinues, when the boy was still recovering from his wounds after the fire, was strong and it pulled him towards the Cleric’s cloister, where those who had entered the fifth stage slept.
Leyjen wondered who could have drawn the boy there, because Polinues didn’t know anyone at that level, save perhaps for Tisék, but the boy and the older man had a mutual dislike for each other.
Leyjen had never been able to figure out why, but it had been present ever since Polinues woke up after the fire.
Standing on the front steps of the Cleric’s clositer, Leyjen closed his eyes, concentrating on the boy, a hand resting on the cold metal of the doorhandle.

The night was utterly still around him, he could hear the snowflakes as they landed on the already covered ground, and a soft echo turned his feet away from the cloister.

Running down the path, passed the Temple, he stopped in the square, skidding on the snow.

The echo was still there, and running soundlessly over the square Leyjen stopped by the far side of the ruins of the old Abbey.
Through a knee deep snow drift small feet had made a thin cut, a slim body falling down in the snow had only made a little dent.
Wading through the drift, Leyjen stopped dead a few steps away from the half meter high stone foundation of the burned down Abbey.

Sitting in the snow, shoeless, wearing only his thin night shirt and his linen trousers, with a blanket around his shoulders, Polinues looked fast asleep, his head resting against the cold stone, frozen tears glittering on his cheeks.
His lips were a faint blue, his skin pale white, and for a moment Leyjen was sure his chest was still.

Falling down in the snow, Leyjen grabbed the child, craddling him like an infant, hoarsely whispering his name,

“Polinues? Oh, sweet Gods, Polinues? Wake up, Polinues!”

Grey eyes fluttered open, and Polinues whispered,
“I couldn’t find you. I was just going to wait for you.” Before he closed his eyes again and seemed to slip into sleep.

Leyjen cursed himself and the boy all the way back to their cloister.

In the third floor sitting room Leyjen laid Polinues down on a couch, stoking the fire to life and putting water on the kettle to brew tea.
Then he sat down on the floor, pulling off his boots, his woolen coat and his shirt, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, and cradled Polinues to his naked chest, using his own body heat to warm the boy, rocking him slowly, rubbing his freezing arms and legs to get the blood flowing again.
When the water started boiling Leyjen moved to lay the boy on the floor, but Polinues’ cold fingers refused to let go of his arms.

“No. Don’t. Don’t leave me behind again.” Polinues whispered, his grey eye focusing on Leyjen’s face.

“Oh, thank the Gods, you’re awake. What were you thinking, going out into the snow like that?!”

“I didn’t. I was waiting for you.”

Leyjen sat the boy down, telling him to wait while Leyjen made them tea, then pulled him back onto his lap, helping him drink the strong, hot liquid.
After half an hour or so, Leyjen could feel the warmth seeping back into Polinues’ body, and looking at his feet and fingers confirmed that he had not suffered any damage.

“So. What happened? Why did you go outside?”

“I told you I didn’t. I sat down on the stairs, waiting for you. I must have fallen asleep again.” Polinues refused to look up, a strain in his voice that Leyjen did not like.

“Polinues. You have to tell me. Did you have another nightmare? What was it?”

The boy stared into the fire, his jaw set with a stubborn glare, and Leyjen waited.

“Someone was calling me. I woke up, and there were deamons everywhere. They were climbing the walls, crawling out of my wardrobe, from underneath my bed. All burned and hideous, their skin peeling off in clumps when I tried to fight them off. They got their hands on me and started dragging me out of the room, my skin caught fire wherever they touched me, and as they dragged me passed the basin, I managed to spill the water over myself and them. It made them unhand me for a moment, but then they attacked again, twice as hard. Then there was this voice. It echoed so loud in my room I was sure it would wake up the entire clositer”

Polinues stopped, sipping at his tea, and Leyjen waited patiently.
He knew that if he pushed, Polinues would not respond well, so the best thing to do was to let the boy talk at his own pace.
The morning bell rang out, and soon there after a stir began in the hallway. A couple of third stage novices entered the sitting room, getting tea or coffee, bidding good morning, one asking what the pair was doing there.

“He sleepwalks sometimes. Took off out into the snow, and woke up in a snowbank. He’s freezing but I think he’ll be fine.” Leyjen smiled, trying to brush the novice off, only earning them puzzled looks in return.

Polinues stayed quiet, sipping at his tea, his body still shivering slightly.
When they were alone again, Polinues put his cup on the floor, pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

“I woke up, and got out of my room. I was going to your room, but remembered what you said yesterday. So I went down to the second floor landing to wait for you to come out. The voice came to me again while I waited, and I couldn’t help myself. It sounded like you, so I followed. The voice wanted me to come to the Cleric’s cloister, but when I got there I didn’t want to go in. I don’t know anyone there, except for that sleazy Tisék. The voice got angry, but then I thought I heard you calling me from the Abbey ruins. I ran as fast as I could because that voice scared me, but when I climbed over the foundation it all came back. It was like I was back there. In the fire. Only this time the fire was full of deamons that kept trying to hold me down, to burn me alive. I crawled over the wall again, and cried myself to sleep, hiding in a corner. I hate this, Leyjen. I can’t see the difference between nightmares and reality. I hate being controlled by my nightmares. I wish it would stop.”

“I know. I don’t know what I can do, I wish that I could take it all away from you and give you better dreams. But I don’t know how to do that. I’m sorry. It wasn’t me calling you. I wasn’t here. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what. Like you said, you weren’t here.”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m sorry for. I should have been here. I know your nightmares always get worse when we have a holiday coming up, and that they’re worse during winter. From now on, you can come to my room whenever you need to. I’ll put warding spells on the room so your nightmares won’t follow you in there.”

“But I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re busy, or when you have to be alone.”

“I wasn’t busy or needed to be alone. I wasn’t there. I went out.” Leyjen whispered, making certain there was noone in earshot.

“I slip out sometimes, out of the compound. That’s why I didn’t want you to come to my room. I didn’t want to risk you getting scared and start looking for me.”

“You go to see your girlfriend?”
Polinues didn’t meet Leyjen’s eyes, but there was a glint in the grey eye that made Leyjen uncomfortable, and before he could stop himself he blurted out,
“How do you know?”

Polinues blushed, and tugged at the collar of his nigthshirt.

“In the showers. I’ve noticed you have these purple brusies on your shoulders and sometimes on your back or neck. I asked Jorad, and he said they’re called love bites. He said girls do that to you when they kiss you.”

“How would he know?” Leyjen muttered, instinctively fingering the bitemark on his jugular, angry red and swollen, just barely hidden under the collar of his winter robes.

He drew a deep breath, and lied to the boy for the first time in his life,
“Yes. I have a girlfriend in the village. I go and see her every two weeks or so, sometimes more often. But you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. You know we aren’t allowed to have girlfriends or wives or any relationships with women, save for our mothers and sisters.”

Polinues’ eye grew dim, a look that Leyjen could not stand, and the boy stared at him so hard that Leyjen blushed and looked away, hiding behind his cup of lukewarm tea.

Polinues stood up, and pulled the blanket closer around himself, his voice cold and distant,
“I think I’m fine now. I’m going to go and get dressed. Then maybe we could get to class.”

“I’m going to get dressed too. But wait for me. I want to have the Healers take a look at you, to make sure you won’t get sick. Dress warm, alright. A hat and your fur lined cloak. And your leather boots.” Leyjen watched the retreating boy, until he disappeared down the stairs, before he ran to his own room and dressed in a hurry.

Polinues objected to the examination all the way to the Healing Halls, and huffed and puffed at the Healer that performed the exam.
The Healer found nothing wrong, no permanent injuries, but warned them that Polinues could suffer a head cold, and possibly a fever. He gave Leyjen a tonic to give the boy as a preventive, to which Polinues stomped out of the room and slammed the door.
Polinues was up in a snit most of the day, stomping around the Temples and giving Leyjen the cold shoulder. By dinner Leyjen was snapping at anyone who spoke to him, so irritated he was crawling in his skin.
Polinues left the canteen without saying a word to Leyjen, and the teen decided to leave the boy alone, knowing they would not get any work done that evening.
Instead he made his way over to the Cleric’s clositer and knocked on the door of Tisék’s room.

There was a scent in the warm room that Leyjen had begun associating with Tisék without exception.
The sweet, tarty smell of plum brandy.
Leaning against the doorjamb, when Tisék opened the door, he smiled at the older cleric, and felt a faint blush creep into his cheeks.
Even after three years Leyjen could never stay unmoved by the older cleric.
Tisék’s eyes were wide and glazed, brandy on his breath.

“Hey. Still need help with that Parsirian text? Polinues is sulking, so I’ve got time.”

“Yeah. I’d appreciate the help.”

Leyjen slipped inside the room, Tisék trying to be discreet as he pulled an open bottle off the breakfast table, and putting the cork into it, stashed it in his nightstand.

“It’s over here. This is what I’ve gotten so far, but it’s this here paragraph that I just can’t put into context.” Tisék pointed to the books and parchment on his breakfast table, pulling out a chair for Leyjen, keeping his hand on the back of the chair as they sat down side by side.

Leyjen scanned over the text, it was a theory of religion written by a well known elvish scholar, and Leyjen had read it a few times before.
Sitting down he pulled up a blank piece of parchment, Tisék setting an inkwell and quill before him.

“I know this text. I can help you.”

Tisék couldn’t take his eyes off Leyjen, as the teen rolled his sleeves up, then pulled a leather thong off his wrist, and quickly braided his long auburn hair in a loose braid, tying it off with the thong, stray strands of hair hanging down by his temple, framing the gorgeous face.
Tisék rubbed his thumb between Leyjen’s shoulder blades as the teen hunched over the text, quickly reading Tisék’s translations, and picking up the quill started sqribbling.

“This is pretty good actually. You’ve done great so far. What was the problem with this passage?”

“Wow, thank you. I was sure I was way off with the translation. I’ve never been really good at elvish. The problem is I don’t get that bit about eternal life. I mean, he’s talking about having eternal life, but at the same time about dying again and again. I just couldn’t get the context of it.”

Leyjen smiled brightly, Tisék’s eyes glued to the steel ring in his lip as it cut into Leyjen’s full lip.
The teen looked up, pointing to the text, and Tisék became lost in the sound of his voice.

“It’s not eternal life. We don’t, I mean, humans don’t really have a concept for it. It’s life eternal. It’s like… Uhm, like it was explained to me, it’s like a river. A river is eternal, it flows through the same channel for eternity, so the river itself is eternal. But when you pick a single spot in the river, there is new water in that spot every second. So, it’s like the river is eternal and not at the same time.”

“I’m not sure I get it. How can something that is always changing be eternal.”

Leyjen flashed a pearly white smile, his amber eyes flaming in the candlelight, and tucking the left corner of his lower lip between his teeth, he said,
“What he’s trying to say is that some things that seem eternal aren’t, and some things that are eternal seem not be. The idea is that you are born, you live and then you die, but when you die your soul doesn’t leave and goes to some magickal place where everything is perfection. Instead your soul goes through like a cleansing, think of it like our three days of meditation before we enter the Turning of the Stage. After your soul has been in this cleansing place for a while, it comes back, is reborn in a new body, in a new life. And with each new lifetime the soul learns new lessons, new truths that help it grow. You getting the premise of it?”

“Yeah. I think so. But what about that part before where he’s talking about the children of the gods and that a circle must be maintained in all aspects of faith? I didn’t get the context between that and this part.”

“The gods are eternal, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, he’s saying they’re not. I mean, think about it. We have… well, not us two, but humans have children. Everything has children. Humans, elves, animals, even orcs and goblins breed. So, what he’s saying is that even the TriGods breed and die, in a sense. It makes perfect sense if you think about it. Why shouldn’t gods grow old and tired and die? The theory behind the circle of life eternal is that there are always three generations of the TriGods in existence. The reigning TriGods, their children and the sleeping TriGods, who will become the children when the next generation takes over. You understand me?”

“So you’re saying that the TriGods have children, and those children have kids that are their parents reborn?”

“No. More like grandparents. Like if I was the son of one of the Gods, I would have a child that was my grandfather reborn.”

“Wow. That would be freaky. A bad case of complicated family ties, don’t you think?”

They both laughed, amber eyes shyly avoiding Tisék’s brown eyes, and the older cleric rubbed a thumb between Leyjen’s shoulder blades.

They worked in silence for a while longer, Tisék never removing his hand from the back of Leyjen’s chair, periodically brushing his thumb over the muscular back.

After more than an hour of scribbling in his spidery writing, Leyjen sat up straight, his spine popping between his shoulder blades, his neck creaking loudly, his cheeks flushing crimson when Tisék reached up and massaged the back of his neck gently. Leyjen relaxed his tense shoulders, and let his eyes slip closed, working so long with nothing but candlelight always hurt his eyes, so this felt very comfortable.

The massaging fingers gripped his neck tighter, and he felt a tug on his head, the alcohol on Tisék’s breath cloying, as the elder cleric pressed his lips against Leyjen’s, teeth nibbling at his lower lip.
Leyjen tried to pull away, but Tisék held him tightly, brushing his tongue between Leyjen’s lips.

“Don’t. Stop it.” Leyjen said, pushing at the cleric’s chest, Tisék had a hard grip on his arm, trying to pull him back in.

Both of them jumped when there came a loud knock on the door, and a third stage novice poked his head around the door.

“Novice Shaoir? We need your help! It’s novice Marines. There’s something wrong.”

Leyjen was out of his chair and through the door before Tisék or the third stage novice could react.

The fifteen summers old novice ran after Leyjen through the snow covered lanes, huffing in the cold night air, Leyjen slowed down only a fraction, asking,
“What’s the matter with Polinues?”

The novice started a little at the use of the boy’s first name, but decided to let it slide. The close relationship between the pair was well known in the Temple.

“He apparently went to bed, shortly after evening bell, at least he was already in bed by tally. About twenty minutes ago the prefect on door duty heard screams coming from his room. We tried to open the door but it’s locked from the inside.”

Leyjen looked at the panting teen with fire in his eyes, and nearly shouted,
“He’s been screaming for twenty minutes and you’re just now coming to get me?!”

“We didn’t know where you were…”

“I told the prefect that I would be out late, and that I’d be with Tisék!” Leyjen shouted, taking off as fast as he could on the slippery cobbles, bursting through the doors of the clositer.

The prefect and three other fourth stage novices were banging on Polinues’ door and trying to figure out how to open it, initiates, and first stage novices huddling in the doorways of their rooms and along the walls, a small trickle of the older novices going up and down the stairs to the upper floors.
From inside the room Polinues’ ragged voice cried out in pain and fear.

The four novices scattered before Leyjen, as he arrived.
He tried the door, but it was held fast against him.

“Has anyone tried the window?” he shouted, the prefect and his assistants only shaking their heads and shrugging in confusion.
Leyjen looked around, finding a familiar face in the crowd, the younger brother of Arlin the hedgewitch.

“Hylmir! Take Jorad and check Polinues’ window. Let me know if it is locked from the inside as well!”

The fourth stage cleric Hylmir nodded, and grabbed Polinues’ cousin by the collar of his robes, dragging the objecting boy outside with him.

While they were gone, Leyjen banged on the door, shouting between Polinues’ screams,
“Polinues! Polinues! Can you hear me? Are you awake?! Polinues, answer me if you can!”

Suddenly there was a heavy silence, Leyjen could feel the novices around him hold their breath.
There came a horrible crash against the door from the inside, making Leyjen fall back, and Polinues’ voice cried out on the other side of the thick wood,
“LEYJEN! HELP!”

Leyjen stared at the wood, his heart freezing in his chest, there was another voice in the room, a voice only he could hear, and he jumped when Hylmir put his hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly into his ear,
“The shutters are unclasped, but I couldn’t open them. It felt like some force was holding them against me.”

Leyjen stared at the door for a moment, Polinues screaming in agony on the other side, Hylmir squeezing Leyjen’s shoulder gently, the prefect and his companions praying feverently.
All around him, Leyjen could hear more voices join in the praying, closing his eyes he tried to focus on the little boy inside the room.

Leyjen pressed both his palms flat on the door and pushed with all of his strength, breathing deeply and exerting all of his power into this one spell.
In a low steady voice he chanted the spell, Hylmir’s hand on his shoulder giving him added strength and Leyjen hoped that the praying novices did not hear the difference between a spell and a prayer.
There was another thundering crash against the door, and Polinues wailed in agony, and Leyjen felt the force behind the door give way.
He threw himself at the heavy wooden door, Hylmir adding his conciderable strength as well, and together they tumbled into the room.

The air was electrified, magic dissipating waning fast, and Hylmir could not smother his shocked gasp as the two teens stood face to face with a fading image of Leyjen himself, black winged and terrifying in his full glory.
In the middle of the floor lay Polinues, writhing in agony, his skin charred and peeling off his muscles, faint flames licking around the body, and he screamed in a broken voice.
Leyjen threw himself down beside the boy, cradling him gently, brushing his hands over the charred skin, it fell away from Polinues’ pale skin like ash and disappeared, the illusion shattered.

“Polinues! Ilithil! Wake up. Please wake up, I’m here. You’re safe. I’m here. Wake up.” Leyjen whispered into the scarred face, rocking the twitching body in his arms, and slowly the thrashing tremors subsided, and Polinues’ eyes fluttered open.

Polinues stared up into the amber eyes, brimming with love and tears, and gasping he buried his face in Leyjen’s chest, his body trembling with relief.
Leyjen looked up as the prefect and a few curious novices peeked inside.

“He’s fine. He just had a nightmare. He sleepwalks when he has nightmares and must have locked his door by accident. He’ll be fine. I’m sorry for the ruckus.”
Leyjen nodded at the other novices, his pleading eyes enough for the prefect to turn around and usher everyone back to bed, except for Hylmir.

Leyjen lifted Polinues into his bed, and sat down beside him, stroking his sweaty face gently, speaking in a low voice.
Hylmir left them alone for a few mintues, carrying two large mugs of coffee when he came in to the room again. He handed one cup to Leyjen, then picked an over turned chair off the floor and sat down facing the bed.

They sipped at their drinks in silence, Polinues curling up behind Leyjen, and pressing his head against the side of Leyjen’s thigh.
Hylmir observed the gentle love that Leyjen showed, as he stroked the boy’s head gently, soothing away the remains of the nightmare.

“The prefect has gotten everyone else to bed. He said I can stay up with you, to help if you need me. I asked him to try and keep this quiet. I don’t think the clerics will take kindly to one more disturbance because of you two.” Hylmir smiled wryly, Leyjen sighed wearily and nodded a thank you.

He knew that some of the older clerics were not big fans of the strong willed, and opinionated Polinues, and the boy often got himself into trouble with his big mouth. Which usually got Leyjen into trouble as well, when he came in for the rescue.

“What was it that held the door? Is my sister right about that boy? Does he really walk in shadows?” Hylmir asked quietly, his hands visibly shaking.

Leyjen sipped at his coffee, avoiding the novices eyes, but the heaviness in his chest only got worse, so he put down his cup, and rubbing his hands over his face, he sighed again,
“He manifests his nightmares. Your sister is right. Polinues is the youngest son of the Marineses, but the midwife that delivered them confused him with Arlathi, so Polinues is the rightful mage.”

“Why don’t you tell his family that? He shouldn’t be here if he’s a mage.”

“I know. But his family don’t want to listen. His father is a very strong minded man, and when he decides something is a certain way, nothing short of devine intervention will change his mind. And not even that changed his mind about Polinues.”

“The Abbey fire?”

Leyjen nodded, his eyes dimming with the memory.

“I knew there was something off about that thunderstorm. I could have sworn those lightnings were aiming for the Abbey.” Hylmir shook himself, thankful that he had not lost family in the fire like so many of the first stage initiates.

He was not bound by family tradition, like Polinues, being a cobbler’s son, he had entered the Temples because he had been given a calling.

Leyjen nodded again, his voice shaking a little when he spoke, being careful to keep his voice low, there was no knowing if anyone was listening.

“I’ve been training him in secret. He could wield his magic when he was four summers, Hylmir. He’s that powerful. I must make you swear to secrecy, Hylmir, if you say anything it could have horrible concequences.”

“I swear, Leyjen. My sister delivered that boy. I know far more than most others about him. And I’ve always had a feeling that you were a mage too. There is just this feeling about you, if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I thought you might know. That’s why I’ve never said anything to you. But it’s because of his magic that he does this. His nightmare come to life. Before the fire, he never had nightmares. Never. Not once, and I’ve asked all of his nursemaids and his mother. Noone remembers him ever having had a bad dream. But since the fire, they’ve only gotten worse, and stronger. And when he manifests them like this… I don’t know what to do, Hylmir. I’ve started losing sleep because of it, I never feel good falling asleep, in case he has a nightmare and needs me.”

“I don’t know what to say, Leyjen. I’ve never seen nothing like it. I mean, I know what nightmares can do to you. Ever since I was a little boy I’ve had this repeated nightmare that I’m drowning. My mother and Arlin both say it’s because I fell in the Peolin Sea when I was a toddler, so I don’t remember it, but I fear it. I’m not sure they are right, but I have this nightmare, and sometimes I have an irrational fear of water. Sometimes I’ll be going for a swim in the Temple lake, or the Peolin, or even just going into a bathtub, and I’ll just panic. Just freeze up and can’t breathe, my heart racing. It’s even worse when I have the dreams. But manifesting your dreams like that… I didn’t even know it could be done.”

“I’ve never seen it either. Not until I saw him do it for the first time. But that’s not all. He wakes up in his nightmares too, Hylmir. Can you imagine that? Waking up from a nightmare, and it’s still there. In your waking world as well? He does that, sometimes repeatedly. Just think about it, waking up again and again trapped in your own nightmare. And there is nothing I can do to help him.”

Hylmir slid down to his knees, and hugged Leyjen close, stroking his back comfortingly,
“You do far more than many other would even think of doing. You help him more than anyone. I wish that I had someone who loved me as unconditionally as you love that boy. To risk exposing yourself like you just did, that tells me that you do far more than is ever possible to expect of you. You are a brilliant friend. You are like a brother to him.”

Leyjen clasped the teen back, taking comfort in the arms of a friend for a few moments.
They broke apart as Polinues stirred, thrashed and cried out next to Leyjen.

“He’s having another one.” Leyjen said, pulling the boy into his arms, and fighting against the thrashing body, he soothed Polinues’ face,
“Polinues. Ilithil! Ilithil, listen to my voice, hear me. Wake up. Wake up, Ilithil. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.” Polinues stilled, eyes fluttering open, and a faint sigh of relief escaped his chest.

Leyjen stood with the boy in his arms and headed for the door,
“I’m going to let him sleep in my bed tonight. I have warding spells on my room, so he should be able to sleep better. Thank you for your help, Hylmir. And thank you for understanding.”

Hylmir smiled, opening the door for Leyjen, and followed him to the third floor, entering his own room, two doors down from Leyjen’s room.
Leyjen lay down next to Polinues, who slept uneasily throughout the night, Leyjen fighting his nightmares ceaselessly.
It wasn’t until it was nearing morning that Polinues’ breathing deepened, and he fell into deeper sleep, allowing Leyjen a couple of hours of precious sleep.