DISCLAIMER: I NEVER PRETENDED TO OWN ANY OF THIS, OK? UNDERSTOOD? :))
This story is (hopefully) part of the Silmarillion plush toy collab, after reading several of the stories that are part of that collaboration, I couldn't help but be inspired. To all those loyal and loving followers, readers, and reviewers of my current story, A Ranger of the Woods, believe me, I am sorry. :') I think that story might have to go on a very short hiatus for a little while, just so I can squeeze this other stuff that's been living in my head for months escape. I promise I am not abandoning my other stories, just postponing A Ranger of the Woods for a little while(maybe, there might still be regular updates(but were there ever regular updates?)), :)) thank y'all for bearing with me here.
Laurel sat squeezed in between several strangers, jostling around in the uncomfortable, crowded bus on the way home from work. Despite all this, and the fact that it was raining dismally outside, she was smiling. Today had been her birthday, one of the several she had celebrated while at her place of work, Mario's, an incredibly cliche Italian pizza place. It was a part-time job, the job she had had while going to college in that little town in Vermont. Now that she had graduated, she also worked part-time at the locally owned frozen yogurt place in her area, called FroyoHeaven, two low-key jobs until something better came along, just to keep herself afloat in her tiny house with her small needs. The staff at Mario's all knew it was her birthday, and had thrown a tiny celebration, congratulating her, patting her on the back, giving her cards and occasionally a small present. They had all split a small tart the owner, Mario himself, had given them for the occasion, a tradition he had maintained for years with all his employees' birthdays.
Laurel sighed happily, reading over the cards again. One was a rectangular card, colored in pastel shades, with a bright and glittery cake in the center. Another was smaller and more personal, not store-bought, a folded piece of red paper with little stickers stuck on and small designs drawn on with a sharpie. As if that weren't enough, her friend, Maura, had not only given her a very humorous card that continued to make her giggle the third time she read it, but also had tucked within it a small gift card to Macy's. They all wished her a happy birthday, and she had not been very surprised to receive them, as she was friends with all the small waiting staff at Mario's, Johnny, Lucy, and Maura. But the one she kept on mulling over, the odd gift, was a crisp pale yellow envelope with her name written in elegant script across the front with a blue ink pen. Enclosed within was a friendly wish of a nice day and a happy birthday, along with a gift card.
"Middle Earth Plushie Industries Inc." Laurel read the name again to herself, wondering how the quiet and rather odd cook who worked in the back tossing pizza dough to whom she barely ever held conversation, in fact she didn't even know his name, would know about her obsession for all things Middle Earth.
He probably just overheard me geeking Maura to death over it. she told herself firmly, as she had an over-active imagination which tended to quickly and easily imagine horror stories and conspiracy theories, before running her finger over the code.
0L0R1N
That was what you entered during checkout to receive three plushies for free.
The idea of having three Tolkien plushies sitting on her couch or shelf, staring down at her all day, was oddly appealing to Laurel, who slipped the meager stack of cards back into her admittedly rather ugly purse, before proceeding to open her writer's notebook to further develop the plot of a thrilling story about her favorite elf, Glorfindel, as he crossed the Helcaraxe in an epic fight for survival.
::::::::
"Let's see..." she muttered to herself, opening her outdated laptop and typing in the URL mentioned on the gift card. She was immediately transported to a site that looked something like Amazon, but instead of everything imaginable sold a plushie of every Tolkien character imaginable.
"Wow...I didn't even know some of these guys existed..." Laurel continued to mutter, high-speed scrolling through hundreds of characters, all represented loveably in plush.
On normal days she might have been suspicious, as she was a rather suspicious person, but today Laurel was too high in the clouds from her birthday and too excited over this previously undiscovered website to care.
She soon located Glorfindel, who she promptly added to her cart.
"Hmm...I wonder what that Quenya means underneath his price..." Laurel could only read and speak broken and sloppy Sindarin, not Quenya, and was too tired to heft out the old and priceless Tolkien volumes to try to make sense of the script.
"It probably isn't that important anyway." she reasoned with herself, adding Maedhros to her cart, noticing the same Quenya note on him too.
"Let's see, I get one more...Fingon. So that Maedhros won't get lonely." she decided, adding him to her cart as well, typing in the code, 0L0R1N, and checking out.
"This has got to be the best birthday ever." she muttered joyously(she was just one of those people who tends to talk to herself), shuffling into the kitchen to go scrape up something for dinner, wondering how long until they would arrive.
::::::::::::::
"Wow! I didn't even pay for fast shipping!" Laurel exclaimed, impressed, hurrying out onto to cold stone walk the next morning in nothing but croc ballet flats and a purple bath robe, picking up the moderately large cardboard box from Middle Earth Plushie Industries Inc., hurriedly carrying it into the house and opening it with the pocket knife she always kept hidden on her person(even when in nothing but a bath robe).
There was an adorable childish plush face, framed by adorable russet hair, smiling adorably up at her.
Laurel smiled adoringly as she pulled the chibi Maedhros stuffy out from the box, cuddling him before lying him on the counter, and taking out the next one.
"Makalaure? There must have been a mistake..." she muttered as she realized she now held in her hands a stunning stuffy of none other but Maglor, unmistakable for his dark hair, sensitive expression, and small music notes embroidered onto his tunic with black thread.
She laid him off to the side, realized she had lain him on top of Maedhros, giggled foolishly, and laid him to the side of his plushie brother.
Next came Fingon, that was expected.
But then, the golden hair and crooked smile just as she'ed imagined it...
"Celegorm?! What? Oh well, don't know how that happened..." she muttered confusedly, putting him aside before pulling out the last two stuffies in the box, Glorfindel(who she felt the need to nuzzle before she put him down), and Nellas.
Why Maglor, Celegorm, and Nellas were included in her order, Laurel had no idea, but she wouldn't argue. Six Silmarillion plushies were certainly better than three!
She was about to throw the box in the recycling, when she noticed several folded pieces of paper in the bottom of it.
She pulled them out, unfolding and perusing them. One side was in Quenya, the other in Sindarin. Laurel chose the Sindarin side, and read: 'Thank you for your order from Middle Earth Plushie Industries Inc.! We are glad you took advantage of our limited offer of buy one, get one of our random selection free! We hope you enjoy living with your new friends, and that you will help them find a comfortable place in your home and society. We trust that you will not abuse your responsibilities as their parent/guardian, and will keep them fed, clothed, clean, and happy. Remember, happy elflings, happy you!'
Laurel felt so stupid. She wanted to slam her head down on her cheap, junky kitchen counter so hard. Had she not read several stories on fanfiction about this? Had she not been fully aware of the plotline of said stories, which before she had thought merely fanfiction? The stories where the girl receives the Silmarillion plushies in the mail and then they come alive?
And then they COME ALIVE?
Laurel was lucky she was good at breathing deeply, or else she might have had a complete meltdown then and there. Luckily she only had a partial meltdown, which ended with a cup of tea too strong for her own good, more deep breaths, and several minutes of agitated pacing.
Then she took action, arranging the six stuffies neatly on the sloping couch so that they would be comfortable when they awoke, before scurrying around her one story house frantically, raiding every closet and every room.
She ended up with three pairs of sheets, her extra and sickeningly floral comforter, the two guest pillows, the three pillows from the couch, and two quilts. She made the guest bed, she figured two could sleep there. Then she moved the stuffies to the carpet and made the couch up, before sitting them back on it.
"Three down, two to go." She muttered, figuring Nellas would prefer to sleep in a tree outside, and that if her thoughts were otherwise, then she could share Laurel's bed with her.
Finally she made the last two beds, one on the floor of the living room, and the other on the floor of the guest room, using extra towels as mattresses, and covering them with quilts and sheets. She was trying her best not to panic, but as her small house only had five rooms(her room, the living room, the guest room, the kitchen/dining room, and the bathroom)each one very small and sensible, and she had little money and food, these guests being very unexpected, we cannot blame her too much for panicking just a little.
After finishing making all the beds she flew back to the kitchen/dining room, and proceeded to heat up the stove, shoving in a pack of mozzarella sticks, before putting some water on to boil in order to cook the solitary package of whole-wheat pasta she had found languishing in the pantry. She also managed to find a bag of chips and some dip, leftover from when some friends came over three days ago.
As the food cooked, Laurel hurried to set the table for seven, which required every single dish she owned.
She was just placing the chips and dip on the table, when a voice behind her made her nearly jump out of her skin as it politely asked:
"Pardon me, but where is your bathroom?"
She whirled around to see a small, lithe and pale-skinned elfling standing before her, an uncomfortable look on his fair face, legs clamped together, looking as if he were about to wet his pants. The gold threads in his small black braids immediately identified him to her as Fingon, and he looked to be about seven in human years.
She was at a loss for words for a few moments, before the little boy began making insisting noises, gazing at her desperately.
"Right! Sorry, this way." she explained, hurrying out of the kitchen/dining room, him following close behind.
"This is the bathroom." she about to leave him to it when she remembered he would probably not know how to use a modern toilet and sink. "You go in there, then push this when you're done. Then you wash your hands with soap like this." she explained, quickly demonstrating how to turn on the sink and pump soap from the dispenser, before walking out to give him some privacy.
As he was using the bathroom, Laurel hurried back into the kitchen/dining room where she quickly reread the Sindarin instructions, confused, as she had been expecting adult elves. But no, it said 'elflings' on the instructions. To be exact, it said, 'Remember, happy elflings, happy you!'
Laurel felt a deep sense of dread settle in her stomach. Six children were an entirely different matter than six adults. You could get the adults jobs, they would be self-sufficient. But children...
Laurel felt another panic attack coming on at the thought of supporting six growing children with her meager salary that kept one person living modestly, the instructions had said that she was to be their parent/guardian after all, but managed to hide her anxiety as she heard Fingon coming back.
"Hello, I am Laurel." she introduced herself, smiling at the little boy as he looked around him, mystified.
"I am Findekano. Where am I?" he asked, but before she could answer he set out on a new stream of questions. "What language is the name Laurel in? What does it mean? Why is your hair so short? Why are you wearing a bathrobe? What are you cooking?"
He would have gone on even longer, had not Laurel cut him off.
"Laurel is a type of tree with leaves people of my world use in cooking. My hair is cut this way because I like it this way. I am wearing a bathrobe because it is early in the morning, I'm off from work, and I just showered. I am cooking pasta and mozzerella sticks, cheese with bread cooked around them, I guess."
"Oh." Fingon murmured as if Laurel had just given him the answers to the worlds biggest mysteries and problems.
"I am, apparently, your protecter and host for awhile, I don't know how long. I am supposed to take care of you."
"Why? Where am I?" he asked insistently, showing far less panic then Laurel would have thought given his new circumstances.
"I don't honestly know why. You see, you and six other elves arrived at my door in a box this morning as stuffed toys. You just came alive, and I think they all will follow your example soon. In the box it said that I was to be a sort of parent or guardian to all of you while you stayed with me. You are in a different world and time, Findekano, this world is not like where you are from."
He nodded calmly, before suddenly running over to Laurel and grabbing her around the waist, hugging her fiercely, burying his face in the fabric of her bath-robe.
"Oh!" Laurel cried, surprised, before she cautiously put a hand on Fingon's messy dark hair comfortingly. "It's all right." she said quietly, squeezing him slightly in an attempt to make the elfling feel more safe.
After a few moments Fingon broke away, gazing up at her with a now tear-streaked face.
"Will you take care of me?" he asked, hands still clutching her bathrobe tightly.
"Mhm, I promise, don't worry. But right now you need some food. Sit down at the table, and I will bring the pasta and mozzarella sticks, we don't want them to overcook." she decided, gently removing her bathrobe from the small but insistent hands and motioning for him to take a seat before hurrying over to the kitchen half of the kitchen/dining room, pulling the mozzarella sticks out of the oven, and turning the stove off and draining the noodles. Within five minutes she was bringing the makeshift meal to the table.
Fingon gazed at the mozzarella sticks suspiciously for a few moments while Laurel waited expectantly for him to dish up.
"What's the matter?" she finally asked, confused by Fingon's furtively suspicious way of glaring at the breaded cheese-sticks before him.
"What are they? Why don't you have regular food?"
"I told you, I live in a different world then you came from. Try them, I promise everything I made is good." she offered, demonstrating by placing a small mound of pasta on her plate, a mozzarella stick, a handful of chips, and a spoonful of dip.
Fingon followed suit before looking at her expectantly.
She smiled, twirling a bite of pasta on her fork and eating it. After he had tried that, she took a bite of the mozzarella stick. Fingon picked up his cautiously, taking a nibble off the edge, and proceeding to make the funniest face Laurel had ever seen.
"Well?" she asked, barely succeeding in stifling mutinous laughter.
Fingon took another bite, this time getting cheese instead of just the breaded outer layer. The mozzarella stretched out into a long drooping string as he pulled the stick from his mouth, dripping down onto his tunic, although he didn't seem to notice or care.
"It is...strange. But good."
She nodded before dipping a chip in the guacamole she had spooned onto her plate, putting it into her mouth and nodding for him to do the same.
"Well, what do you think of my food?" she asked after he had tried everything, brushing a strand of hair nervously out of her face.
"It is strange, as I said before."
"But will you eat it?"
"Yes, I think I rather like some of it. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Fingon continued eating, still rather cautiously at first, but before Laurel new it he was asking for more.
A few minutes later, however, their meal was interrupted by muffled panicked sounds coming from the living room.
"That would be one of the others." Laurel explained, rising quickly and hurrying out of the room, Fingon following close behind.
That's it for now, folks, but more will be coming soon!
Please review and tell me what you think!
Thanks for reading, have a great day!
~Thurin
