Have you ever met an Elf?
Summary: After watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Methos and Jenna debate the existence of Elves.
Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of immortality – either the sword-bearing head-hunting type or the Elven type. They, respectively, belong to Davis/Panzer and J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing and make nothing from this. Well to be completely honest, I earn a bit of enjoyment by writing stories and reading the reviews (hint, hint).
A/N: This story is what happens when I try to work on two stories in two different worlds at the same time. They collide. I hope you enjoy this little piece of fluff!
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Sprawled out on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table in front of him, Methos managed not yawn as he drained the last of his beer. He debated getting up for another one, but from what he could remember, the Gray Havens was the final part of the book. Too bad he was watching the movie; he couldn't guarantee it ended the same way. There had been some major plot changes.
With an amused twinkle in his eyes, he glanced over at Jenna. The younger immortal lay comfortably across the couch. Her head was on a pillow and her eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, were riveted to the screen. Her feet rested in Methos' lap. His hand, the one that was not still holding the empty beer bottle, rested easily on her thigh.
The three-night Lord of the Rings movie marathon had been her idea. She could handle him not knowing or caring about many modern things, but was shocked that he hadn't watched these movies. His argument that he'd read the books, 50 years ago, had not worked. She insisted on them watching the full trilogy, extended version. Finally, the event was drawing to a close. To himself, Methos admitted the movies weren't bad, but that also could be due to the amount of beer he consumed over the past three evenings and last three hours in particular. Even though it was completely against his policy to re-read something, he might "borrow" Jenna's books as the movies had piqued his interest. Not that he'd tell her.
"You don't mean that. You can't leave." The voice from the screen drew Methos' attention back. The Hobbits were hugging and crying. It had to be over soon. There had already been so much hugging and too many goodbyes. It reminded him of his own life, he thought. He placed his empty bottle on the side table and leaned forward slightly. Jenna loosely held her mostly full beer near her stomach. He snagged it out of her hand and she didn't even spare him a glance as Frodo walked onto the boat with Gandalf.
Methos tipped it back and drank. It had been sitting there so long it was warm, but it was better than watching the rest of the movie with nothing. Without a word, he watched as the boat sailed off into the sunset, which was where boats belonged, he thought with a shudder. The voice-over trailed a Hobbit into his round door and then the words "The End" appeared on the screen. "Finally," he thought to himself.
He shifted but Jenna did not catch his hint. She remained watching the names as they appeared and disappeared. Once the haunting voice started singing, she finally turned to look at him.
"Isn't that a great story?" she said. The tears that had sparkled at the goodbyes were gone.
"It's okay."
"OK?" she questioned back. "It's much better than okay."
"It's a nice story. A pretty bit of fiction."
With a disgusted look, Jenna pulled her feet off his lap and stood up. "How do you know it's fiction?"
Methos drained the rest of his beer and then dangled the bottle from his finger tips. "Easy," he replied. "It didn't happen therefore it's fiction."
"J.R.R. Tolkien insinuated he was writing history, not fiction," she countered as she picked up several empty bottles and headed to the kitchen.
The ancient immortal stared at her retreating back for a second before shaking his head and grabbing the remote. He hit stop and then turned off both the DVD player and television. Nifty little devices, remotes were, he thought apropos to nothing. He grabbed the empty popcorn bowl and the couple remaining bottles, following Jenna into the kitchen. She was rinsing the bottles before gently tossing them into the recycle bin.
Methos couldn't prevent a smile as he watched. She was a stickler for recycling and other "green" activities. When he questioned her about it, he grudgingly admitted her answer made sense. "The world is different from when I was born. If it's natural or man-made, I don't know. But if it's the latter, we can't wait to do something about it. It may not affect the humans living today, but I hope to still be around in a few generations when I actually have to deal with the consequences of today's actions." After hearing that reasoning, the dark-haired man no longer complained about the recycling. He actually gave in and helped.
"Have you ever met an Elf?" Jenna's question brought him back to the present as he placed the bowl and bottles on the counter next to the sink.
"Of course not. They don't exist."
"What about a Hobbit?"
His reply was an amused look.
"Or Dwarves for that matter?"
"Jenna."
"Adam." She matched his exasperated tone. He leaned against a counter and watched as she put the popcorn bowl in the dishwasher. She rinsed her hands and snagged a towel to dry them. She turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the sink. "You haven't answered my question."
"Which was?"
She sighed as she replaced the towel and then folded her arms across her chest. "Have you ever met a Hobbit or Dwarf?"
"Jenna, you can't meet something that doesn't exist."
"Adam, how do you know they don't exist?"
"Because Tolkien was writing a story, not history."
"Prove it," she shot back at him. With a wicked grin, she walked out of the kitchen. After another shake of his head, Methos flipped the light off and wandered through the living room into the bedroom. She was in the bathroom; washing her face by the sound. He turned back the bedspread and then moved to the doorway of the bathroom. He leaned a shoulder against the jam and watched as she dried her face. When she lowered the towel, he spoke. "Actually since you think it's true, you should try to prove it to me."
With a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation, she answered. "Fine. I will. Tolkien stated in later correspondence that the World War marked the end of the Sixth Age."
"Which world war?"
"I don't remember. Does it really matter?" she asked with a shrug. "They weren't that far apart in time."
"I suppose it doesn't. But you still have a long way to go to convince me. For starters, in what correspondence did he state this fact?"
She flushed like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I remember reading it on the internet, but I don't remember where. Or it may have been in something his son wrote about the ages. My memory fails me on that part."
He nodded. "Throw that argument out then. Next."
"The layout of Middle Earth for the Lord of the Rings is similar to that of Europe."
"How?" he asked as he moved away from the door and walked into the bathroom, heading for the toilet. She rolled her eyes as she left the room.
"Be sure to wash your hands," she called over her shoulder. After a pause, she continued. "The Shire would be in the middle of Europe. The Ural Mountains are approximately where the Misty Mountains are and Harad, etc, would be in northern Africa." She raised her voice so he could hear as the toilet flushed and then water ran.
"It doesn't work out precisely," he countered. "The distances and shorelines are off."
"It was six to eight thousand years ago. Continents move," she retorted.
Methos walked into the bedroom as Jenna pulled a nightgown over head. The silky looking blue "dress" was one of his favorites. The top was edged with lace as was the bottom which fell about mid-thigh on the petite immortal. The thin straps left her shoulders bare. The gown, or maybe it should be called a negligee, he wasn't sure, wasn't sheer or clingy, but was extremely sexy.
He shook his head when he realized he was staring like a teenager. Jenna grinned with the same knowledge as she passed him to go into the bathroom. When the door clicked close behind him, he shook his head again. He stripped his sweater off and threw it into the closet. With luck, it landed near the clothes basket. He then walked into the living room, double checked the front door was locked and turned off the lights. When he re-entered the bedroom, Jenna was pulling back the sheet. She slid into bed and propped a pillow behind her.
"So now that I've rebutted your geography argument, what's your next one?"
"Hobbits."
"They don't exist."
"How do you know they aren't what we call little people today?"
Methos stopped with one pant leg off and looked at her in amazement. After a quick search in his memory, he countered. "Feet aren't big enough."
"8,000 years. Evolution. Anyways, Tolkien never describes their feet as abnormally large, just very tough and hairy. So, after they start wearing shoes, those qualities diminish."
The man grinned as he threw his pants into the closet and climbed into bed wearing only boxers. He reclined against the headboard also, and turned so he could see the woman he was once again living with.
"And where did Dwarves go?"
"They didn't go anywhere. They're still mining."
He chuckled.
"What? You don't believe me, Adam?" Her easy grin matched his as she draped her foot over his leg.
He shook his head.
"Have you ever been in a mine?"
He shook his head again.
"Well, people of normal height couldn't work in most mines. They're too low. Not modern mines as much, but historically. Dwarves would have been comfortable though."
"What about their beards?"
"What about them?" At his look, she continued. "Shaved them, I suppose."
Methos laced his fingers through hers and absently began drawing random shapes on the back of it with his thumb.
"I'm not convinced, but I'll concede you make excellent points. I'm just not convinced that Elves exist. It doesn't make sense."
"Why not? Men shouldn't live to be 5,000 years old. Why can't an Elf exist?"
Methos opened and then closed his mouth, speechless. She had him there.
"Are you sure you've never met an Elf?"
Regaining his power of speech, he replied, "Not unless they were masquerading as a human."
"They could."
"Not unless they chopped off the tops of their ears."
"Eww."
Methos managed to keep the look of satisfaction off his face. Her cocky expression when he had been speechless was effectively erased.
"They'd also need make-up or self-tanning lotion. Tolkien portrayed them as rather pale."
"Or they could be Goth." Jenna said it with a straight face. Once she saw the amusement on Methos' face, her laughter peeled out. He quickly joined her.
They relaxed against the pillows after the laughter subsided.
"So, have I convinced you yet?"
"You've made some valid points, Jenna, but I'm still skeptical."
She regarded him but did not speak.
"For instance, you haven't mentioned dragons. Where are they?"
"Loch Ness." The quick reply brought another grin to his lips.
"What about the rest?"
She shrugged, her free hand fiddling with the top of the sheet. "There weren't many to start with and most have been killed over the ages."
He bobbed his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Here's the biggie, though." He paused dramatically. "Orcs. Where are they?"
Her brown eyes clouded as she thought. After a few minutes, she spoke without the conviction of her earlier comments. "They were eliminated. Killed by men and their own strife."
Methos shook his head emphatically. "Sorry, can't buy that one. Something that evil would be too hard to eradicate completely. Even if they did fight amongst themselves."
"I know." She sighed, knowing he was speaking from personal experience. "But it was the best I could come up with."
"You did a great job of arguing your side," he grinned quickly. "I almost believed you."
"No, you didn't."
"You're right. I didn't. But it was fun hearing your viewpoints." He looked at her seriously. "Do you really believe that Tolkien was writing history?"
"Unfortunately, no. I just occasionally would like to believe that we aren't alone in our burden of unending years."
Methos nodded in understanding.
"Makes you wonder if Tolkien was immortal."
"What does?"
Jenna pushed her hair back with her free hand before dropping it into her lap. "How well he wrote about the blessings and curses of the Elves' immortality."
He pondered her words for a few minutes as her foot slowly rubbed his calf. "Interesting. I never thought about it that way. However, we both know he wasn't immortal. There are pictures of him at different ages and he died peacefully."
"I know, but it's an interesting proposition." She nodded as she spoke.
"Maybe he knew an immortal who told him what it is like."
Jenna pinpointed him with a questioningly look.
"It was a thought! If he did know one, it was not me. I never met the man!"
She gave him a grudging smile. And couldn't resist trying one last time. "Are you sure you've never met an Elf?"
In response, he smiled and shook his head. Then he lifted their twined hands and kissed the back of hers. She squeezed his fingers before they separated. He turned to the side and turned off the bedside lamp as she slid the pillows level. In the sudden dark, they both slid down into the bed. He reached out by feel and put an arm around her waist. She snuggled back towards him, and put her arm over his. Theirs legs also entangled under the sheets. His chin rested above the top of her head.
A last thought drifted through Methos' mind as he fell asleep. No, he'd never met an Elf, but he wished he had.
The End
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little story. Once the idea occurred to me, the squirrel would not let it go. It insisted on ignoring the other stories and completing this one! (P.S. I don't have a plot bunny; mine's a squirrel). I realize my arguments for history lack evidence (I read everything I point out at some time but like Jenna, have no clue where – except the Hobbit feet. That was on and I left out other major points, but, hey, it's just for fun!
A/N II: Reviews are appreciated! They're food for the squirrel. I have two other stories I was working on before this one demanded attention…
A/N III: All mistakes are mine. No beta to blame for slacking on the job.