The Translator

Chapter 2: The Palace

*Erik's P.O.V*

"Henri, miten voit? (How are you feeling)" I ask, glancing up at his nerve wracked face.

We are on our way to Angeles for the start of the Selection process and Henri has been playing with his hands since our journey began. We have been in the car for just under an hour and we are almost to the airport where we will be hopping onto a plane with twelve of the Selection candidates. It's safe to say that Henri is a little worried about being able to speak to the other contestants.

"Ummm, miten sanot sen (how do you say it)?" Henri mumbles, searching for the right words. "Hermostunut..."

"Nervous, you're feeling nervous," I say with a smile. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

"But...my English...not good..." Henri sighs, rubbing his face in his hands.

"Siski sinulla on minut (that is why you have me)," I say firmly. "I'm here to help you communicate AND help you with your English."

"Kiitos, Eikko, kittos," Henri thanks me with a smile.

Twenty minutes later, our vehicle pulls up to the airport where there are at least 20 photographers already taking pictures of us arriving. A guard quickly ushers us out of the car and leads us through the crowd of paparazzi, not wasting any time. As we make our way through the group of crazy people, I receive many confused glances as they realize I am not one of the selected.

"Who is that?!" a female photographer asks the man beside her.

"I'm not sure, but he definitely isn't one of the 32 selected..." the male photographer smirks, giving me a weird look. "Lucky for Princess Eadlyn...don't think he would make a very good prince."

"You okay?" Henri asks, noticing I have stopped.

"Yeah, I'm good," I say quickly, moving forward once again.

The guard quickly ushers us onto the plane and leaves us once we are inside. We are the first ones to get there so we get first pick of seats, taking two towards the back of the plane. As we wait for the others to arrive, I can't help but think about what those photographers said. What do they think I wouldn't make a good prince? Is it because of how short I am? Or is it my shyness? Whatever the reason, I shouldn't be dwelling on it because there is no way I will ever be a prince now. Just as I am about to start a conversation with Henri, in walks the competitor (feels weird calling him that, but that is what he is!) from Belcourt.

"I hate cameras, they care nothing for your personal space," shivers, taking a seat across from us. "Hi, I'm Hale...Hale Garner, from Belcourt. Who might you two be?"

"Hello," Henri says slowly. "My name is Jaakoppi, from Sota."

"It's good to meet you Henri...even though we will both be competing to win the heart of the fair princess," Hale grins. "That doesn't mean I don't want to make some new friends while I'm here!"

Henri glances over at me with a frightened look on his face, obviously needing me to translate what Hale just said. I quickly whisper the translation into his ear and he looks back over at Hale with a grin on his face.

"You want to be friends?" Henri asks hopefully.

"Yeah, sure do," Hale smiles. "I can tell you don't speak English very well...where are you originally from, Henri?"

"Swendway," Henri grins.

"That's cool," Hale says, still smiling. "And who might you be?"