Ranford, the Assistant Royal Librarian, was concentrating on a scroll in front of him so hard, he didn't even hear when the door opened.

“Not that I don't like seeing you, but what are you doing in my office?” asked Anselm, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, hi, um, I need some help. See, the Library just received that scroll, but it appears to be in Sumerian”.

“So?”

“I've never learned Sumerian. I tried, but found it impossible”.

Anselm frowned.

“But, if I remember correctly, you've got good grades in Languages in the University”.

“I was lucky. When I took the exam, the professor got sick. His assistant, who was conducting the exam, paid much more attention to the cute girl in the back”.

Anselm looked at his friend, dumbfounded.

“You're unbelievable. Anyway, why would you come to me? I know your wife, she is rightly considered an uber-polyglot?”

“She is, but... we had a falling out. She doesn't even talk to me. She was that cute girl in the back, by the way. But I thought you can...”

“I'm just an archivist, languages aren't my forte. Although... Professor Parr, who teaches Languages nowadays, I'm in correspondence with him. I can connect you to him, he would help”.

Ranford shook his head.

“No, I really need it today, they are counting on me”.

Anselm felt his head starting to ache.

“If it's so urgent, go to the closet, there is a phone there. While you're calling your wife, I'll make some tea”.

Ranford swallowed, glanced around, then stooped, turned around, and walked to the closet. Anselm put a kettle on a stove, and then sat at the table to prepare for an upcoming revision. Through the door he could hear some parts of what his friend was saying to the phone.

“Hi, honey, I'm calling because...”

Anselm leaned back. He remember the last year's Spring Ball, where he got acquainted with the previous archivist, Ogden, who bragged about knowing many languages. Perhaps he can chat with him?

“Wait, could you explain it to me again?..”

No, he probably won't have a chance to meet with Ogden today.

“Oh, now I understand all of it...”

Anselm got up, took the kettle off and started rummaging the shelves, looking for a second cup.

Ranford came back, beaming.

“She translated the whole thing in one go!” he declared.

“Did you at least write it down?”

“No, I memorized it”. He noticed the cup in Anselm's hands. ”Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but, since I know now how to cook Mesopotamian vegetable soup...”

Anselm sighed.

“Sure. Go and... wait, was it a recipe you tried to translate?”

“Yeah. For today's picnic, why?”

Anselm opened his mouth, closed it, and threw a teacup at Ranford's head.