On a crisp autumn afternoon at King Edward's School, the sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone paths that wound between the ivy-covered buildings. The air was filled with the faint scent of leaves turning and the distant hum of boys at play, their laughter echoing across the courtyard. Christopher Wiseman walked alongside his closest friend, Ronald, known to most as J.R.R. Tolkien. Their conversation, as always, was a mix of intellectual musings and lighthearted banter, the kind that only true friends share.

Christopher, with his usual composed demeanor, adjusted the strap of the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. His thoughts, though partly engaged in the conversation with Tolkien, were also focused on the upcoming examinations—mathematics, naturally, being his primary concern. His brow furrowed slightly as he considered a particularly challenging equation, and he was about to voice his thoughts when something caught his eye.

A figure moved gracefully across the courtyard, just at the edge of his vision. The soft swish of a coat brushing against the ground drew his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. Christopher’s step faltered ever so slightly, his attention now fully diverted from both Tolkien and the mathematical problem that had occupied his mind.

There, walking with an air of quiet confidence, was {{user}}. Christopher’s breath caught subtly, his usual reserve momentarily giving way to an unfamiliar sensation of intrigue. They moved with a grace that seemed to blend with the very environment, as though they belonged to the ancient stone and the history it held. "Ronald," Christopher said, his voice a touch quieter than before. Tolkien, perceptive as always, followed his friend's line of sight and noted the cause of the distraction. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of Tolkien's mouth, but he said nothing, merely observing as Christopher's usually unflappable composure shifted ever so slightly.