Author's Note: This is just a short story (it should have 3 small chapters when all is said and done and posted) that I somehow managed to whip up during this crazy summer. I am desperately trying to pull my creative muse together to get more written as far as unfinished stories (yes, I'm talking about Conspiracies) and other new ones; y'all will just have to have patience with me. I'm sorry I haven't been able to post much of anything lately, but trust me, I'm just as sad as you are (unless you don't really miss Estel's ridiculous creations, which is understandable; in that case, I am more sad than you).

Anyway, this is in the same universe as my story Rangers vs. Roomies, but it is not dependent on anything. I hope y'all enjoy this; I would really appreciate some feedback if you have the time to review. Thanks so much for reading!

. . .

Dedicated to my three roommates from my last year in college. Thanks for putting up with me and all my nerdy weirdness and for being encouraging as we endured some crazy stuff together! I miss y'all!

. . .

Estel gave the kids a last wave goodbye before slamming her foot on the gas and speeding down the street. No, they weren't her kids. She happened to be their babysitter, an occupation she kept up alongside her other part-time gig as well as a full-time load of college classes. It wasn't actually as much as it sounded to be; after all, she still had plenty of time to spend hanging out with a certain someone, not to mention getting a few hours' sleep most nights.

But that was all coming to a close. This was the last week of classes; next week, there would be time to read and study, and then there would be finals. Then it would end; she would graduate and have to leave her beloved school, friends, and professors. It was a sad thought.

Leaving this babysitting job was…far less sad. Thalion had encountered her fair share of Sauron's minions over the years, but she had no idea how the Dark Lord had managed to cram so much wickedness into one child. Sure, the girl was alright, but the little boy? Estel would prefer watching a soap opera with Morgoth in Yankee Stadium to watching that kid. But now it was over; she was done forever.

The kids always tried to race Estel's car when she departed, but she gave them no chance today. The car—Nahar, by name—pealed around the corner and sped off, enjoying the moments of freedom before the line of cars that was sure to follow. The traffic was always nasty at 5:30, but Estel didn't mind so much now. She was just happy to have escaped the kids mostly unscathed.

Unfortunately, there is a large population of panhandlers in the city of Estel's college who routinely stand at intersections and beg for money. Thalion never gave them anything (unless you count the prayers on their behalf, which she did indeed issue forth); honestly, she was probably nearly as broke as the panhandlers themselves. However, as Estel found herself in a very long line of cars waiting for an eternal red light to change, the writer's attention was drawn to a couple figures who were standing on the median with cardboard signs. She wasn't sure at first what caught her eye about these particular beggars. Perhaps it was their height; both were exceedingly tall. Maybe it was their clothes; both wore long, travel-stained garments with hoods and long cloaks. It could have been the two-handed swords that dangled from their belts—

Swords?! Estel did a double-take and focused her full attention on the two figures. They each held a cardboard sign, and while she couldn't make out what the one farthest from her said, she could read the sign of the first man.

Writerless muse. Need stories. Eru bless.

And then it was all too obvious who these men were, even before the first figure lifted his head so that his face was visible. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And Estel could only assume that behind him was Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. A very diverse mixture of emotions and thoughts were swirling in Estel's mind, including being very frustrated with the patheticness of her muses and also being slightly impressed by their hardcore, passive-aggressive attack. Still, the end result was that she groaned and nearly let her forehead slam onto the steering wheel.

Aragorn locked eyes with his intended target and smirked, waving a gloved hand and waiting patiently to be offered a ride. His steward seemed to notice the king's gesture, and he too looked up at Estel. He was always more humble and polite, though; he gave a sad smile and small, child-like wave to copy Aragorn.

Thalion gave a very long sigh before unlocking her doors and thrusting her thumb towards the backseat of her car. The two rangers happily obliged, rushing to the car and climbing in the back, which was still covered in fruit snacks (and—alas!—saliva) from the kids' trip home from school. Aragorn and Faramir made do as the light turned green and the car lurched forward.

"Really, guys?" Estel asked, shaking her head as she made a left turn and accelerated down the street. "Really?"

"What, didn't you think our costumes creative?" Aragorn inquired with a grin as he shoved his cardboard sign down beside his cramped legs. "And what exactly prohibits one of us from sitting in the front?"

Thalion rolled her eyes and shook her head again, but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Because you're not the only ones who will be riding in this car. You should know that; why do you think I haven't been writing lately?"

"Ah, yes," Faramir chimed in cheerfully. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting…um…"

"Edennil," Estel happily informed her muse.

"Friend of men," Aragorn translated. "The name seems fitting from all I have heard, if your reports of his kindness are indeed accurate. But he must have a very high destiny to possess any name of Finrod Felagund."

"He does indeed," Thalion affirmed. "I can tell."

"How?" asked the inquisitive Faramir.

"Woman's intuition, obviously," the writer replied with a chuckle as she pulled into the desired apartment complex. "We're about to pick him up, so be nice."

"Why do you have to pick him up?" Aragorn asked.

"Well," sighed the writer, "Geerhardus met an unfortunately end, so both of us have to share Nahar since it's out of the question for his family to buy another vehicle at this point."

"Geer-what?"

"Geerhardus," Estel repeated. "The deadly rust of Michigan sadly ate away at his car-body until he had to at last be slain for his own sake. Now no more questions; you guys have interrupted my day enough." The writer paused, turning back to look at her passengers as she put her car in park. "Why are y'all here, anyway?"

After recovering from the Tragedy of Geerhardus, Aragorn nodded to Faramir, who reluctantly began a short explanation. "We have felt a lack of purpose as of late, particularly in the area of creativity. No stories have been written in months, and that is not healthy for a muse's disposition."

"So you're bored, basically," Thalion huffed.

"We're needed," Aragorn countered. "This isn't just about us—though we are getting a bit 'stir-crazy,' you could say. You need to write again; it's been too long, and if you don't pen something soon, you risk losing your touch and your passion."

The writer was silent as she drew out her phone and sent Edennil a message to announce her arrival at his apartment. She didn't want to admit it, but her muses were right. She didn't regret the way she had spent her time in these past two semesters, but she really did need an outlet for her creativity. Maybe their presence for an afternoon would help her.

"This better be a short visit," she answered at last. "I have a fifteen page paper due in two days."

"We might be of some assistance in writing it," Faramir offered.

"It's not a story," Thalion responded slowly, "but it will be a fun one to write, and as long as you're actually helpful, not distracting, I guess I could use more pairs of eyes to look for information and edits. Edennil has already enlisted his services, but if you really want to, you can back him up. But no stories until we do the paper. Deal?"

"Deal," Aragorn affirmed on behalf of both. "What is the paper topic?"

Estel grinned proudly. "The resurrection of the body. This has the makings of being the best paper I've ever written."

Before she could say more, Edennil appeared outside the passenger window. He smiled and waved at Thalion, who proceeded to unlock the door for him to enter, but his smile temporarily disappeared when he saw the two rather intimidating figures sitting in the back seat. At first, there was a trace of suspicion which quickly vanished as he recognized the rangers. Once he knew who the men were, the smile returned (one which was polite and very friendly; hence his name), and he extended a hand.

"Hello," he greeted pleasantly. "Estel has told me a lot about you. You must be Aragorn and Faramir, right?"

"That is correct," the king said, taking Edennil's hand and shaking it firmly, the steward eventually following the Dúnadan's example.

That was all it took. The three men immediately dived into deep conversation while Estel chuckled to herself, put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking space. She listened to some of their talk on the way back to her apartment, but she was more focused on the dilemma of what would happen when she got there. This wasn't like last year; she couldn't just bring people over to the apartment without having her roommates' permission. And that license could be hard to secure at times; the college life is a hectic one, after all.

I'll just have to take the adventure that comes to me, the writer concluded as she entered her code into the apartment's gate keypad and drove the company to her building. She was both glad and nervous to see two familiar cars in the apartment's parking spaces. This meant she wouldn't have to issue a text to the group since everyone was home (and what exactly would such a text have said?). But this also meant that she could not avoid her roommates meeting her…friends.