“…In Graelandic,” you finally conclude. “Still not quite myself, Donnie. Took me a minute to remember my own language.”
“Well, to be fair that’s what happens when you speak Common all day. Anyhow, luckily for you I do happen to have three books in Graelandic. So you even get a choice!”
“Three books? You’re spoilin’ me, Donnie.” You give him a slight smirk.
“Could be worse, you could be from Theletia.”
“My hometown. Tiny place. Last bastion of the language, supposedly part of a kindgom that was taken over by force a century or so ago. But we were so far out of the way that the invaders completely missed us. I’d be surprised if anyone there even wrote a book at all. Just sit tight and I’ll be back with the books, okay?”
He wanders off, leaving you to your own devices.
But just as he leaves, you think of something. What if the storm’s stopped? You might be able to get back to what you were doing before then. It was pretty important, after all…
Wait, what in the hells, you’re struggling to remember what it actually was.
Weren’t you supposed to be on the lookout for some islands?