– Do you want to look at the sword? – asks the merchant politely.

I cast a glance at Cap. His interlocutor, one of the famous role players obviously, asks:

– So what do you suggest?

– The situation is absolutely clear already, – declares Cap, – I'd prefer to look whether you'll be able to find an adequate solution…

– No, thanks, – I say to the merchant, – I'm still way too far from 100 points.

I exit the shop, into the fresh air, to awaiting Vika. Looks like she haven't noticed her former customer.

– What were you looking for there? – asks Vika.

– For a life.

– Found it?

I shrug, – Doesn't seem so.

When we proceed to the city gates, past the minstrel, past the magician and fencing recruits, I suddenly understand a strange thing.

There's a lot of truth in Cap's words, in the ones he tells to the girls in brothel or to the Elves in Lorien. The truth is the disguise of cynicism.

Maybe this is a goal as well – to consider oneself the Truth. To step through the Deep as a proud prophet of it, sweeping a dirt of peoples' vices from white cuffs with disgust, to suffer for the Truth and to accuse the lies.

And all this is because of one single reason – of being unable to love people.

I see this world and it's funny for me to see the kids sharpening drawn swords, studying Dwarvish language and selling the void. But it's not yet IT… One more step is required, a very little one – a bit further. Not to love.

Neither mysterious Unfortunate, nor the silly little hobbit, nor the virtual prostitute Vika, nor the merchant in the shop, nor the minstrel with guitar, nor Romka the werewolf, nor Man Without Face…

Nobody.

It's so simple after all, they all are full of drawbacks. One can be mad at all of them, and to despise all of them… No, not that. Not to be mad but simply not to love.

I feel like opening some kind of heavy and narrow door and looking into another world, the sterile white one, frozen down to absolute zero, dead and clean as the computer CPU.

– Vika, – I whisper, – Vika…

Why do we go to rescue Unfortunate? Why is all this long and cumbersome process?

– Vika…

She looks me in the eyes and I can see her through the Elvish image, under golden curly hair and pale aristocratic face, a usual and real one. My Vika. The one who doesn't need any explanations.

– Say "love", – says she.

I shake my head. I can't, I'm still there, in the cold whiteness of the mocking truth. Truth and love are incompatible.

– Say "love", – repeats Vika, – You can do it.

I make my choice.

– I love, – I whisper weakly.

– Friends and foes…

– Friends and foes… – I repeat.

– And I love you, – says Vika.

A wonderful city Lorien is, nobody laughs at the Human and the Elf that hug each other by the city gates.

110

It's good to walk along the winter road if the whole army marched there before you. The snow is tread down well, it's impossible to get lost. Tokens of noisy, incoherent and fussy life can be seen everywhere.

A pine tree, with arrows poking out of it. Either a spy was suspected by the Elves or they just argued whose eyes are keener and whose hand is stronger. Most likely the latter.

The traces leading a bit to the side, two piles of tobacco ashes. One can just see two leaders stepped away to have a pipe while the army marches by. One of them was a wizard with a staff and the other – a warrior with a sword. Here are the traces: the round one of the staff and the narrow one of the sword sheath.

Here was a short stop, the snow is well tread to the left from the road and just lightly touched to the right. Oh sure, the Elves step so lightly that the snow holds them. So here two parts of the army were instructed by their leaders.

The five mile way would be long in the real world. Fortunately, role-players are not millionaires to spend months reaching their enemies. The road falls under our feet miraculously fast. Maybe role-players agreed to consider it an action of the spell…

We ascend to the cliffs and start circling along the path. Several times it seems to me that I recognize the place where I was scaring the hobbit but it always turns out that I'm wrong. The road was created in a hack-workers' way, assembled from repeating elements.

Finally Vika notices the tracks going into the fir grove from the road. Not well enough did we hide Unfortunate, any fighter lagging after the army would notice him. Without an agreement we walk faster, what if he's not here already?

But Unfortunate is there and even not alone. He sits leaning against the tree trunk and tells something to the hobbit, drinking from the flask. The hobbit, squatted against Unfortunate laughs effusively. Noticing us, he jumps up and grabs his little dagger.

Just look at him… this kid can be brave, at least when a helpless guy is behind his back.

– We're friends! – says Vika raising her hands. – We came with peace!

– I'm Elenium the Healer, – I support her. Will Unfortunate recognize us I wonder?

– Hi Lenia, – he says with a smile.

– I'm Harding! – informs us the hobbit hiding his dagger, – Haven't you seen Conan around? A tall guy with a fiery sword?

– That Conan have robbed the kid, – says Unfortunate very seriously, only his eyes are smiling.

– No, he's not that bad! – the hobbit defends his offender suddenly, – He then left all my supplies to Alien { exactly this word is in the original, but in Russian transcription }, he understood he needs them more!

– To whom? – me and Vika ask together.

– To Alien… – repeats the hobbit not suspecting anything, – To him. He broke his leg.

How interesting.

I approach Unfortunate and undo the cast on his leg, then shake out the contents of my bag to the snow. I don't have a slightest idea about how to heal in this imaginary world.

– So your name is Alien? – I ask. Unfortunate keeps silence.

I open one of the jars, the stinky green ointment is inside. I roll up the trouser-leg and spread it along Unfortunate's leg. After a little thinking I also stick several dry leaves on top of it and declare:

– The fracture will heal in five minutes.

The situation is absolutely simple. I'm able to heal the wounds in this world. Unfortunate appeared here with an injured limb. Now, when I opened my bag and spent some of its contents for Unfortunate, the computer that supports Lorien and its suburbs must restore the functioning of the drawn body.

– What if it doesn't work? – asks Harding curiously.

– Then we'll carry your… hm… friend to the city.

– Thanks, – says the hobbit sincerely, – I have only 3 strength points, I wouldn't be able to lift him.

He hesitates for a moment, then asks:

– Will you manage it alone?

– Sure.

– Then I'll run, okay? Back to the city… I was here for so long, will be punished for that.

Surely a kid.

– Okay… Run, – I say feeling conscience-stricken. Harding trots to the path, then shouts:

– But beware of Conan! Just in case…

Vika whispers in my ear:

– Conan the Victor over Hobbits!

– Cut this out, – I ask, – It's shameful enough already…

We wait for several minutes in silence, postponing the talk with Unfortunate. We need to wait for the healing results first.

– Okay, stand up, – commands Vika.

Unfortunate leans on the leg, unsure, rises a little, makes one step, another…

– Does it hurt? – I ask with curiosity of the real doctor.

He shakes his head.

– Then let's go to the city.

– And what's then? – Unfortunate squints his eyes at Vika, but she is silent, I have to reply:

– Then you'll have to make your choice after all. We don't have any more time for riddles.

One can't call the return to Lorien a triumphant one. The guards by the gates look at us disdainfully – we have left two hours ago and obviously didn't catch up with the army. There's no malicious phrases though, but I decide to explain anyway: