Leave that for somebody else to do. They came, they saw and they left it. -- Prompty.
Some warlords operate on Veni, vedi, vici. The Harukh'ai approached the Elven settlements with, Veni, vidi, ruinam reliqui in mind. At least, they did when the Ormani got around to writing epic poems and studies around it. Several centuries after the the conflicts settled down into hardy perennial territory disputes.
The Harukh'ai had a reason. Taslanae had to wonder why Yinmanou approached the kitchen with the same basic idea.
There were at least three pots, two pans, seven plates, four bowls, and a currently uncountable amount of cutlery pieces moldering in the sink. All soaking in greasy water that had, somehow, become stagnant. Taslanae knew that it had all been clean and orderly when she left for the village before dawn. Mere hours ago. Taslanae sought out her husband and found the empty vessel that had once contained his breakfast. Yinmanou was deep into work, carving in his workshop since he didn't have the magic to shape living wood.
There was still wood shavings and sawdust from the previous day. Which explained the litter he tracked into the house. That Taslanae had to sweep up.
"Husband," she said in the formal Elven fashion that heralded domestic doom, "Your work is incomplete."
"Of course it's incomplete, I just started this piece," he said, still focussed on his work.
"I speak of your work from yesterday and your work in the kitchen this morning."
Utter confusion. Yinmanou straightened up from his planing with a frown on his perfect Elven features. "I didn't do any work in the kitchen this morning."
"You worked on your breakfast while I was out. You did not complete the work by cleaning up."
"Yes. I put everything where it can be washed and set it to soak."
Taslanae could feel the fires of fury beginning to burn high. She did her utmost to maintain her composure as she iced, "That is not completing the work. Neither is leaving the remains of your work on the workshop floor. A work is not complete until the working space is returned to a pristine state." She took a deep breath before she succumbed to the temptation of insulting his family. "Perhaps you have forgotten that lesson."
Yinmanou went back to shaping wood with handheld tools. "Those are lessons for the feminine. I fully intend to remain in the masculine for all my years. It is comfortable."
"You will learn," said Taslanae. "You are an Elf and perfect in all things once full grown. Or do you identify as a child despite your two hundred years?"
"Woman, I identify as busy. If the problem annoys you, find the solution within."
"You will learn," said Taslanae. She knew well that her husband was more than three days' travel from his family. She knew very well that she was only a day's travel from hers. So she peacefully packed her essentials, left the shopping supplies where they belonged, and set off without another word.
He would come begging soon enough. As soon as he realised that the floor must be swept, and though he had supplies that could be cooked, he had nothing clean to cook with.
He would learn. Oh yes, he would learn.
Her family was sympathetic, of course. New couples all went through disagreements like this. They tutted about Yinmanou's incomplete education and his matching incomprehensible attitude. Her first day was for tea and talking, like any other guest of the house. With some minor gambling regarding how long it would be before Yinmanou's full apology.
Smart money was on three days before a complete apology, and a further two before he would beg to learn.
On the second day, he sent a demand that she return to 'his' house. She sent one word in return: No. He sent a demand for an explanation. She wrote in return, Your education is incomplete and your attitude is sorely lacking. Until you learn, I will not return to my house. I shall be charging you rent by the month, should you remain that long, since it is my name on the title deed and not your own.
Yinmanou did not send any further messages for two more days.
On the fifth, he arrived on his knees with his hair cut short like a child, weak with hunger and filthy from head to toe. Tears streaked his face, and several small wounds marked his skin.
"I will learn, if you are willing to teach me," he said. "I have learned already that I was never meant to be alone, and that I am helpless without help."
"If we are to share a roof," she said, "we must share the responsibilities of looking after everything underneath. Including all the creatures that live under that roof."
"Yes. I understand," he said. "Please come and teach me the lessons I have missed."
"I expect you to practice what I teach you, too," she said. "Not merely appreciate the performance of the lesson."
Still on his knees, Yinmanou said, "Yes, ma'am. All of that, I vow."
That was what made her take him in and treat his injuries. As well as listen to his tale of trying to learn how to do the former "women's work" all on his own. And a sincere apology concerning the disaster he had left her house in when he undertook the journey.
She let him have a day of rest to recover, then gave him a lecture on the trip back. Her husband was properly humble in his continuing education.
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