Chapter 2: Who is Who, What is THAT, and When is Now…?
We had been walking down into the valley for a long time when I finally snapped. Okay, so maybe he totally deserved it, but even I felt bad now. Maybe it was just a side effect of the nausea. You see, Lady Luna, or, Loonzie as I…fondly refer to her in my mind, was really giving my idea of punishment a run for its money. Had she merely been all over poor Glorfindel, I might have found it easier to stomach. But this…
Beside me, Tiriel burst into choked giggles. I turned to see what she was looking at and did the same, a bit more successfully disguising my laughter as a fit of coughing. Loonzie wasn't seductively trailing her fingers down his arm as he led the horse. Nope. She wasn't leaning low to give him a view of her cleavage. Definitely not.
"I feel faint…"
Glorfindel looked at her miserably and was then forced to catch her as she fainted and pitched off the horse at a miraculous angle-right into his arms. Even more miraculously, she chose that moment to come to with a delicate fluttering of her eyelashes, her blue eyes wide and innocent as she gazed up at him.
"Lord Glorfindel…?"
Did I say that Tiriel and I were chuckling? Because now we were doubled over, cackling like hyenas at the look on Glorfindel's face. I was laughing so hard, my eyes started to water and I had to blink a few, fat tears away. The golden-haired balrog slayer looked as though he himself might weep, and I took pity on him. Holding my shoulder so that my walking wouldn't upset it as much, I sped up until I was walking alongside him, Tiriel mirroring my action. It was time for me to figure some things out…
"Lord Glorfindel, have you ever slain a balrog?"
Alright, it was a little blunt, but what can I say, it was certainly effective. Anyway, at least he won't have to put up with Loonzie while I question him. He stiffened and turned to me.
"Why would you ask me such a thing, Lady Ilmarë?"
Tiriel looked pretty confused herself, but I was grinning. He really had just given himself away, I mean, no one would freak out at a question like that if they hadn't. They'd just laugh it off and be like, um, no, of course not! What do you think I am, super elf?
"For no real reason, sir…You simply look like a mighty warrior."
He relaxed slightly, though still incredibly suspicious, and I smiled wickedly.
"That, and I wasn't quite sure whether you'd been reborn yet. As you were killed slaying the Balrog and brought back by the Valar's grace, I thought it more reasonable to ask whether you'd yet slain the creature than to be so bold to ask if you'd already died."
Bam. I can sound all polite and whatnot if I want. Actually, the only time I think I've bothered thus far is when I'm attempting to infuriate someone…but those are minuscule details not worthy of anyone's attention. Glorfindel's face was a picture of shock, and I was pleased by this to an extent none would completely understand. I mean, come on, an elf is looking shocked. You can't really look totally graceful and dignified and all-knowing if you're caught by surprise, now can you? I winced when I got the sensation of someone shoveling shards of ice into my ears. Wait, my mistake, it's just Glorfindel talking.
"You speak of things you know nothing of."
Ouch. That was cold. I decided, though, to continue my interrogation.
"So…those words you used when talking to the Lady…"
I threw Lady Plagiarism, dear old Loonzie, a pointed look before continuing. What can I say, I hate it when people try to murder me with their eyes.
"…about your horse, Asfaloth, and how he won't let any rider fall that you've commanded him to bear…Have you used them recently? Has there been a Flight to the Ford?"
Glorfindel's expression was so shielded, a battalion of Mirkwood archers wouldn't have landed a single hit. I decided to prod a little more, hoping to narrow down the time period I was in. I won't lie-I was kinda hoping I'd be in time to meet the fellowship, but whatever is, is.
"Have you had recent cause to cry Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth! in the face of a reluctant rider? Have the nine yet mounted their fell steeds and by Elrond been washed away?"
Glorfindel's expression sharpened, and then he slowly shook his head.
"I know not the answer to the riddle you try me with, but I expect my Lord Elrond will know better than I what to make of you."
I don't claim to know whether or not an elf is being honest by the expression on his face, but I kind of figured when he didn't make an attempt on my life, screaming that I was Sauron's spy, that he really had no idea what I was talking about. I nudged Tiriel discreetly with my elbow and leaned over to whisper, as quietly as I possibly could because of that damn elf hearing, "The first LOTR hasn't happened yet."
She nodded, and Glorfindel shot us a troubled glance. Had he not understood? I thought, by now, that he understood English, seeing as I had been communicating rather effectively for the past chapter or so. It was then that I thought of something a little odd…
"Lord Glorfindel, what language am I speaking?"
It wasn't him who answered. It was Loonzie Plagiarism.
"Elvish, of course. Otherwise how could such a fair, sheltered flower such as myself ever hope to understand the vile gurgling you call speech."
Tiriel narrowed her eyes at the offending elleth and my jaw just dropped.
"Lord Glorfindel, do you understand everything I say? Am I really speaking in Elvish?"
He looked like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not.
"Of course. Because I am a warrior does not mean that I am uneducated. I speak Sindarin and Quenya, and the Common speech of men. The only times I did not understand you were when you slipped into that foreign tongue of yours."
I started.
"What foreign tongue?"
Luna glared at me, FINALLY ditching her whole I'm-a-fragile-elleth-who-is-perfect-in-every-way act.
"ENGLISH, YOU FUCKING MORON! THEY DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH HERE! HOW FUCKING STUPID CAN YOU GET? UGH! I THOUGHT UGLY PEOPLE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SMART! ISN'T THAT THEIR ONE GOOD QUALITY OR WHATEVER?"
I narrowed my eyes at her and was about to show her how smart I was with a few, well worded insults when Tiriel stalked over to her, lifted her hand, and smacked that bitch-I mean, um, her-across the face. Glorfindel was taken aback. As a matter of fact, so was I. I, though, recovered first and promptly fist-bumped Tiriel when she came back over, fuming. Suddenly, my best friend/sister-in-all-but-blood smiled and it was like some light had come on and dazzled my face. Damn. I see what they mean when they say elves glow. Tiriel turned her head towards Glorfindel her eyes flashing like sapphires under the sun.
"I mean you no harm Glorfin-whatever it is. But please, keep that bitch away from us, or I'll hit you with my car, back up, and do it again! We clear?"
Glorfindel opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by two new voices.
"What have we here, dear elder brother?"
"I haven't the slightest, little brother. Perhaps Glorfindel would like to enlighten us?"
I jumped and immediately brightened. I knew exactly who had come-
"ELROHIR! ELLADAN!"
Needless to say, everybody in the immediate vicinity looked taken aback. Kind of. Actually, Tiriel looked confused, since she hadn't actually read good old LOTR, Loonzie was, of course, looking smitten, and Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel were all staring at me like I'd suddenly been transformed into an opera singer…perhaps one about to start belting out L'amour est un oiseau rebelle from Carmen whilst wearing a fruit hat. Admittedly, I'm quite fond of the song, though I don't have any opera training, but I do love to sing. Really, I do. Generally, it's shutting me up that's the problem.
"How do you know our names, lad?"
Actually, I think back home everybody was ready to strangle me. Yeah…At least, here in Middle Earth, people appreciate singing! Maybe no one will care if I sing twenty-four/seven. Oh, shit. I can't really ignore foolish mortals when they're elf-like elves. Because then they wouldn't be foolish mortals, yes?
"Um, I'm a huge fan of, um, of…THE WEASLEY TWINS!"
They looked like they were about to skewer me on a nearby tree limb, roast me, and feed me to orcs. I decided to clarify.
"The famous pranksters! As such a dedicated admirer of them and the Marauders, I make it a point to learn about anyone and everyone that could be considered mischievous."
Tiriel looked as though she was in pain at my explanation, whether from trying to keep her laughter in or because she thought the same thing about the skewering, though, I wasn't sure. Well, now they looked even more suspicious and I kind of suddenly realized that I probably shouldn't have had the slightest clue about their childhood games or whatever.
"Elladan…Elrohir…Allow me to introduce the Lady Ilmarë."
Their expressions were sufficiently shocked. At the fact that I was a woman, probably. Wow, I got over the indignation fast. I smiled what I hoped was winningly at them, holding both hands up in the air to show I had no weapons. Well, I was holding my wand, but it's not like it does anything. I mean, it's a Severus Snape replica wand that I bought in Harry Potter land. You know, the one at Universal Studios in Florida? Yeah, I went there on holiday with Tiriel for her birthday once. I was part of her present! It was awesome! Oh yeah…I should be begging for my life right about now, shouldn't I? I mean, they're elves, and I'm not an orc, so I don't think they'd actually kill me, but just in case.
"Look, see? No weapons. Hell, I'm not even an elf and-holy shit. How fucking tall can you get?"
I looked from Glorfindel to Tiriel and back and then made a face.
"No way you two are the same species. She looks like a hobbit standing next to you! Hell, she probably is a hobbit! And I'm probably-"
My hand flew to my chin, feeling quickly for, oh, I don't know, a Russian martyr style beard or at least some stubble. I cried out and glared at Tiriel.
"HOW COULD YOU BETRAY OUR SISTERLY BOND? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME I'M A DWARF! HELL, I can't even be a dwarf right! I'm a freaking dwarf without a beard! I mean, not that I'm REALLY complaining, I just-"
Tiriel looked down at herself.
"Wait, I'm a hobbit?"
Oh, I can tell the difference between Elvish and English now. I mean, it must have been obvious, but then I realized I must be totally fluent. Like I am in Spanish. It's hard to tell the difference when talking to someone else that's fluent. Kind of like how I slip between Spanish and English at will when talking to my mom. Cool.
"No, idiot, you're an elf. And your ugly friend over there is one of the race of men."
I glared at Loonzie, who had spoken softly enough to have been mistaken to be saying something comforting though she spoke in English, which the elves couldn't understand. I, however, understood that double entendre of sorts in the word "race of men." Tiriel looked ready to lunge, her eyes sharpening like a hawk's, giving her this weird unearthly sort of angry look. Um, holy shit, I am seriously happy that she indulges all of my ridiculous notions and never gets mad at me, because, well, it's not so much the look as the intentions behind it. Scary. I looked away for a moment, focused more on Glorfindel's insane height. I was pulled out of this pensive consideration by a loud scuffling noise and when I turned back around it was to see Tiriel lunging towards Loonzie. Elladan and Elrohir jumped up to pull them apart and it was at that point that I noticed something. Tiriel's eyes.
It was true that she had gone through subtle changes when becoming an elf, but her eyes were a drastic change. And it was odd, there was something in those deep blue pools that wasn't there when we had first arrived. A sort of watchfulness, a sort of alert, vigil-keeping wisdom. Like a hunter's eyes, no, a predator's. It looked insanely cool! But…it struck me as something unlike what I had so far seen in other elves. Hmmm, I'll have to look into that. I was carried off on this particular train of speculation until…
"Lady Ilmarë! Can you not halt their madness?"
As soon as I was brought back to my senses, I burst into laughter. Elrohir had tried to subdue Loonzie, and now she was clinging to him…or maybe she'd draped herself onto him. Kind of a mix of both. Her pretty blue eyes or whatever were looking straight into his with that "MY SAVIOUR!" look. Tiriel was like a cat caught by her tail, almost hissing at Elladan and Glorfindel as they attempted to restrain her. I decided to intervene, being that all powerful girl with "lad-hair" as I had now dubbed my short, choppy, dark hair. Psh. Guys WISH they could get hair as soft as mine. It's my only feminine trait, probably, but I'm sure the elves'll put me to shame soon. I mean, they are elves, the masters of being better than everyone else.
"HEY!"
They stopped squabbling and glared at me. Minus Tiriel and Elrohir, because one was my best friend and right hand and the other because he had asked me for help. I looked to Tiriel and asked her, in English, "what happened?"
She shot Loonzie a filthy look.
"That bitch was saying stuff about you and I didn't like it."
Loonzie turned so that Elrohir wouldn't see and glared at her.
"Your hair is fucking horrible, bitch! I won't forget this!"
My eyes narrowed at her soft, scared tone and what it must have sounded like to the elves who didn't understand what she was saying. I stepped between both little groups and put all of the authority I could into my voice.
"Loonzie, shut the fuck up."
She looked at me in outrage, and I realized I'd accidentally called her by her nickname.
"It's Lady Luna Arwen Eowyn Galadriel Moonshine, not L-Loon-LOONZIE!"
I laughed at her indignant sputtering.
"Sorry about that, Lady Plagiarism. Anyway, halt the clapping of your lips, shut up, STFU, as you like it. You will stop being a bitch. Complaining, insulting, trying to seduce unwilling peoples, all of that, has to stop. Reinvent yourself, darling."
She was fuming and cursed at me in Elvish before she realized I'd switched languages and thus forced her to as well. Needless to say the elves around us were looking more than a little shocked. I turned to Tiriel.
"I appreciate what you did, but at the same time, I don't, you know what I mean?"
She didn't say anything, just narrowed her eyes at Loonzie. I rolled my eyes.
"Come, let's not frighten these poor ellyn. I think if you were to go Ninja Assassin on old Loonzie, the dears would go into cardiac arrest. At least wait until we get to Imladris and they decide not to kill us on my account."
Noting her slightly confused face, I said, "Rivendell, until we get to Rivendell. Its elvish name is Imladris." Her mouth popped open in understanding and then she begrudgingly nodded. Cracking a grin, I clapped her on the shoulder and leaned closer in order to whisper in her ear conspiratorially.
"If she starts something once we've been accepted, you have your boss' permission to cut her into little pieces and leave her in the washing machine. Don't worry about all of that starting a second Kinslaying nonsense. I'm sure by the time all the other elves get to know her, they won't mind."
Tiriel smirked. As innocently as I could, knowing full well that they had understood every word I'd said with possible exceptions-"ninja" and "washing machine" among my prime suspects-I turned back to the dark-haired twins and our lovely, golden Glory.
"Shall we adjourn, gentlemen?"
Glorfindel fixed me with that now-you-look-here sort of glare, but it was Elrohir who spoke. Damn, he has amazing grey eyes. Dark grey, like the stone walls of Moria. I wonder how he would take such a comparison…
"Wait, Lord Elrohir, I have something to say before you threaten to beat me into the ground or something."
He raised an eyebrow at that but motioned lazily with his hand for me to continue. I tried as hard as I could to suppress the vicious smirk that was threatening to spoil my fun.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have the most marvelous eyes? They're such a deep grey…"
He looked flattered. I smiled to myself, because I was sincere though I intended to poke fun at him so that my compliment wouldn't go to his head. I smiled all the brighter.
"Such a marvelous color! As deep and rich as the stone walls of Moria!"
He blinked, and Elladan, whose eyes were an absolutely enticing blue, if you like that kind of thing, burst into raucous laughter.
"You see, brother? I am not the only one who thinks your countenance dwarven!"
Elrohir clearly had a childish remark at the ready but Glorfindel held up a hand to silence him, striding over to me and grabbing my arm. My eyes bugged out when he pulled it, but I'm pleased to say I made no other indication to my pain than a sharp intake of breath. Regardless of my rather brave front, though, they were elves and had spidey senses. Glorfindel noticed, frowned, and tugged at my neckline, pulling it sideways to reveal my shoulder.
There was the barest little scratch there, but the skin around it looked as though it was turning a dark, sickly green, with bruised looking veins almost protruding from the skin, a black shadow seeming to infect the inconsequential scrape. I glared at what was well on its way to becoming a cliché.
"What the fuck is that? Is it like…NO! I CAN'T BE POISONED!"
Glorfindel's frown deepened as he gently touched the scratch whilst I freaked out.
"Such a small wound…And yet, such coloring already…it must be poison indeed. Did the orc swing his sword at you and miss? I cannot fathom how you came by an injury so slight as this."
Needless to say, I wasn't really paying any attention because I was too horrified at the implications of being poisoned. I mean, come on, getting sucked into Lord of the Rings? Getting attacked by orcs outside Rivendell? Next, I'd be sitting in the Council of Elrond, joining the Fellowship! Well, at least I wasn't an elf. It would have been too much for me to bear, being an elf. How much more cliché could the tale possibly get? Maddened by my writer's mind's intense fear and dislike of clichés and Mary Sues, I turned my head and chomped down on my little scratch, intent on sucking out the poison before I became weak, passed out, and awoke in a bed in Rivendell with Lord Elrond hovering above me! I WILL NOT be a Mary Sue! NEVER! I spat what I hoped was the poison onto the ground, crossing my fingers that it wouldn't get into my bloodstream through my mouth.
"Let's go."
The ellyn looked suitably shocked enough with my rational behavior that they did not argue, rather, Lord Glorfindel "helped" Loonzie back onto her horse and we started off again. Elladan and Elrohir were gaping at me, and I sighed, irritated.
"What? Was I supposed to just stand there until I swooned or something? Seriously. If people fucking used their brains, they might try to do something instead of just waiting to pass out. It's pretty much like getting stung by a bee, right?"
There was a slight pause. Then-
"What does 'fucking' mean?"
Who is Who, What is THAT, and When is Now/End.