"Ettinsmoor? Is that what we're calling it now?" Imira asked.
"Better than 'the northern lands the Ettins inhabit' don't you think?" Peter asked in return.
"I suppose it's catchy," she agreed. "So what do we do now?"
Peter looked around the room...
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Bringing Darren up to speed took time. Time others did not have to spare. The day was beginning and there were a lot of things to be done. Little by little everyone excused themselves from the room. The first to leave was Edmund, Lucy and Peter went next. Susan hadn't come, though I was sure the rest would bring her up to speed and she was bound to stop by Darren's eventually and inquire about his health. Roy and Thea followed once their part of the story had been shared. The last to go were Henry and Phoebe, who apologized profoundly for taking him prisoner. One by one they left until only Dean and I remained, explaining everything with unmatched patience so as to not disturb him even more. Darren was already disturbed by his lack of memories, and as our story progressed, he became bewildered. Confusion dominated his eyes, but it was replaced promptly by a stunned look and a cry of outrage at my latest revelation.
"... we were too late and when we got there you two had already been married,"
"What?! No no no no no," he jumped up from his seat, panicking just a tad. "I broke up with her," He stated quite firmly. "I-I broke up with her," he repeated. This time, not so sure of himself, it came out as a question. He started pacing.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.
Darren frowned and thought about this. I could tell he did not trust his memories, but he had said it with such certainty the first time, it made him doubt. "Yes, I... broke up with her many times," he said softly. Almost a whisper to himself. His eyes moved as if he were looking for something and he blinked repeatedly. He was realizing something.
"They must have dozed him heavily enough to make him agree to marry her," I turned to Dean. "Do you remember?" I asked Darren. But he seemed consumed with his memories. "Darren?"
Darren wasn't paying attention, he had his own thoughts and questions.
"Darren," Dean called for his attention. This time it did the trick.
"What day is it?" he asked us.
Dean and I exchanged looks. Was he really this confused? Was his mind so messed up he had had no grasp of time while under the effects of the potion?
"Tuesday," I answered.
"No, I mean the date. The month, the year..." He waited expectantly.
"You really don't remember?" I asked. I couldn't help feel sorry for him. I wanted to hug him and tell him it was alright. Recently newfound maternal instincts, I suppose. I wished his mother were here, he must miss her.
He just stared expectantly at me.
"It's August," Dean said warmly. "Year 1006. The month is nearly over. The raining season will start soon," he added.
Darren grimaced, but then nodded and sat back down.
"I think it happened sporadically," he started. "When we went hunting, that day you both nearly drowned," I stopped him.
