CHAPTER TWO

The double-toned ring she heard next had the strange effect of producing butterflies in her stomach.

Stop it! she ordered her traitorous body. It's not as if you're going to talk to a real Elf, after all. It's not as if those Tolkien books you got for Christmas as a kid were non-fiction. You don't know what she's been mixed up in, but it's not as if Peter Jackson's world is suddenly going to come alive in your ear tonight. You're going to talk to a rich old Scot who will tell you point blank that his games are not for you. You'll be lucky if you can understand him through the burr.

That's reality, Ivy acknowledged. It's far too real, and I'm smack in the middle of it. Always have been, and it's getting realer by the day. Except for tonight's contagious madness.

If this guy really is Halden Greenwood, then I imagine he's rich enough to make anything come alive for his own purposes, even Middle-earth. He probably owns stock in New Line Cinema, and we all know what their last big hits were. The question is, how does Mom know him, really?

"Hello?" a British-accented voice answered the phone. Ivy's butterflies increased.

"Marian MacLeod's daughter calling collect for Halden Greenwood," said the computer. "Will you accept the charges?"

"Absolutely. Ivy..." He practically purred her name, and definitely did not sound eighty years old while doing so. "How good it is to speak with you at last. How are you? How is Marian?"

"She's the reason I'm calling." Ivy skipped the niceties. "Your meeting notice arrived, and my mother asked me to let you know she won't be attending. She's sending me instead."

"I trust she is all right?"

"Mom's fine, she married Reuben Matheson recently. It seems he's one of your corporate competitors?"

A slight pause. "I see."

"Mom said to tell you she's resigning her seat on the board and giving it to me."

"That is understandable given the circumstances." Another pause. "Do you know if she has told Mr. Matheson anything about us?" asked Halden.

"I'm sure she hasn't. She refused to call you herself, in case he recognized the number on the phone bill."

"That is well." The relief in that perfect-accented voice was slight, but definitely evident. "Having you join us is a delightful turn of events, albeit a bit sooner than expected."

"Actually, it's rather confusing," Ivy said carefully. "My mother informed me tonight that outside of your castle--"

"It may be more of a sprawling manorhouse now. We've remodeled extensively over the centuries, you see?"

"Oh. Mom called it a castle. She said that outside of your...home...you're known as Halden Greenwood. Inside, you're Haldir of Lothlórien."

"Yes," came the simple admission.

"You're really Haldir of Lothlórien, marchwarden to the Lady Galadriel?"

"I was." His tone carried pride as well as a touch of sadness.

If a fictional Elf could speak, Ivy thought, I've no doubt he'd sound like this guy. He really believes he's from Middle-earth, so where does this conversation go from here?

"My mother told me tonight that Tolkien's books are real."

"Much in them is true, but much was also distorted. The individual character histories and the basic outline of events are essentially sound."

"So you're telling me you're an Elf," Ivy said flatly.

"Yes."

That confirms it: he's a nutter, a totally delusional soul who really believes this. What's worse is I'm starting to believe him. "You're all supposed to have gone to the Undying Lands," she challenged. "Why are you still here?"

"Some of us are not yet finished with this world."

She sensed the polite, emotional wall he raised with that statement. Not daring to pry, and uncertain if she was being rebuffed or stirring up bad memories in what may have been a mental patient, Ivy chose to wait until he spoke again.

"Your mother told you nothing of our existence, or of Greenwood's board, until tonight?"

"Not one word," she said quietly. "Mom kept your secrets, just so you know. Which means I don't know whether you're play-acting and need an audience, or if you're mental."

"Time will tell," he said cheerily, "Well then, Ivy. Let's start at the beginning. Traditionally, someone from your family has always held a place in our organization. You can participate in the bi-annual meetings as much or as little as you like. Matters of consequence will be discussed this Solstice, as they are every Solstice, and votes will be taken. It's best to be familiar with what you're voting on, otherwise you could do a great deal of damage. If you do not wish to participate, you will need to assign a proxy to vote for you. This first meeting, you might consider designating a proxy and attend merely to observe."

"I'd rather participate, if possible," she challenged, feeling perverse.

"If that is the case, then we should arrange for your arrival in Lairg as soon as possible. We have only a few days before the Solstice, and it will take some time to prepare you for what will be discussed."

"My mother said there are other Elves."

"There are. Thirteen of us sit on the board, and you are our thirteenth member. It would be most expedient were I to send the company jet to bring you here. Have you a current passport?"

"Yes, I have a...you'll send a jet?" she asked, incredulous. "You actually have a jet?"

"Of course I do. It's a Lear and practically brand new. I chose the fittings myself. You must watch for the fireflies-in-the-forest effect when the lights are low."

"The what? On second thought, wait." She yanked back her hair in exasperation to realize she was very much in danger of being caught up in this man's fantasy world. "Never mind. Don't send the jet. Even though I'd love to meet your fireflies, I'm supposed to be looking for a job. I can't fly off to Lothlórien right now."

"We are in North Ithilien, actually, now known as Lairg. I regret that Lothlórien is no more."

"I'm so sorry," Ivy stammered, unable to bear the possibility he might be telling the truth, that the Lady's beautiful world had been lost. Shaking herself, Ivy struggled to remember Lothlórien was not real, and that she shouldn't join in the billionaire's private fantasy that it was.

"Wait. Wait a minute, please. Look, Mr. Greenwood. It's nice of you to offer to fly me over to Lung or whatever, but I really cannot come. You may be well-off, but I've finally finished school, and I have to figure out a way to pay my student loans as well as the mortgage every month. I have to find a job. Right now, starting tomorrow morning. So no flying with the fireflies for me, okay?"

"Allow me to offer my congratulations upon the awarding of your degree." He sounded genuinely happy for her. "San Francisco State, wasn't it? A Master of Fine Arts in Art, if I remember correctly?"

"You're right, and now you're frightening me." She was only half-joking, and not all that certain about the half.

"You mentioned a mortgage. I assume then that, after remarrying, your mother turned the house and its expenses over to you?"

"Yes," Ivy admitted with reluctance.

"I see. Not surprising as she has never been fond of either the house or its location. Well, you needn't search for a job," Halden continued, "as a sizable trust fund accompanies your position on the board. If you will give me the name of your bank, I shall have your personal funds established by morning."

"It's Wells Fargo," she muttered, "and I don't believe this."

"Whether you believe it or not, it shall be done."

"Don't you need to know the name on the account as well?" she demanded. "What about the account number?"

"Did your mother not establish a checking account for you when you were fifteen, and is this not the same account? Is the mortgage not paid by automatic withdrawal from your account now, as it was paid from your mother's account in the past?"

"How do you know about that?" she asked, feeling more than a little panicky and suspicious.

"You are Marian's daughter," he stated simply. "We have always looked after you and your mother as we could. As best we were allowed in any case. Let's see..."

Ivy heard something that sounded suspiciously like tapping on computer keys.

"What are you--"

"A moment, if you will," Halden interrupted, rather rudely Ivy thought. She subsided into the commanded silence as the tapping continued for nearly two minutes.

"Your mortgage is now paid through February. An automatic withdrawal from your trust fund will take care of all future payments as well. If some time in the future you would like to pay off the entire mortgage as well as the equity loan your mother took out, I can see to it for you. Is there anything else you require?"

"No, that's...that's amazing right there."

"What about any outstanding bills? Are the utilities due?"

"The gas needs paid." She thought aloud and not all that clearly.

"Hang about while I take care of that." The clicking of keys once more.

"No, wait! I didn't mean for you to - Halden, I was joking. I was only thinking about what was due. I didn't call to ask you to pay my bills."

"I realize that, but I also realize that you were not jesting about the bill. Your gas bill is now taken care of and a generous credit added beyond that, so you may turn up the thermostat without fear. I am well aware the heating system in that house is rather ancient and not very efficient – it is perhaps even unsafe – so, given your mindfulness of economics, I strongly suspect you are less than comfortable at this moment. Are the fireplaces in good working order? Have you enough wood for fuel?"

"I only use the fireplace in my room," she offered with some bewilderment. "How do you know about the heating system?"

"I aided your grandmother in the original purchase of that house and tried for years to convince her to update it."

By the end of this, Ivy thought, I may actually owe Mom that apology she wants. "Mom never did anything about it."

"Of course not. Your grandmother was not given to tending mundane details, and I know your mother has...spending issues. Why is beyond me, when there was more than enough at her fingertips, she had only to write the check. I hope you will take a less benevolent view of your antique appliances and let me advise you? Or at least take a less suspicious view of your trust fund and actually use the money provided. Now, do you prefer burning cedar or pine in your fireplace?"

"It doesn't matter because you are not buying me wood." Ivy spoke through gritted teeth. "The stores are all closing, so it's too late to order anything. Besides, I am quite capable of buying my own wood."

"Nonsense. I know who to contact after hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Ivy asked in sheer desperation. I'm starting to understand why mother refused this Elf's...erm, guy's...help. I asked a question about a meeting, and he's taking over my life – from Scotland no less!

"I enjoy taking care of people, and I flatter myself that I am rather good at it," Halden murmured. "Hang about, I shall be right back."

She thought she'd rather hang up than hang about, but knew he'd only call back. Such behavior wouldn't prevent someone showing up at her door with a load of fuel anyway.

"There." He was back. "I've ordered a cord of mixed wood for you. It should arrive within the hour, so you will be safe and warm during the night. Don't be shy of telling the delivery fellow where you want it, as he is being well paid for his service. Now, have you eaten?"

"I think I can manage to feed myself!" she snapped.

"Very well. I'll send over a pizza. I understand that is a favored meal in your culture, yes?"

She laughed outright at his persistence. "This is surreal. The marchwarden to the Lady Galadriel is ordering me pizza."

"I am. It really is best to simply give in, and let me have my way." He sounded amused. "Do you prefer thin crust or thick? They offer both on this web site."

"Thin."

"Very well. Is Papa John's all right? They are fairly close and take orders over the Internet."

"They're fine. Great."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Laying back on the bed, Ivy let out the breath she'd been holding and willed herself to relax. "Perhaps you could answer a question?"

"If I can, I certainly will."

"Why did my grandmother think Legolas was dangerous? Why does my mother think the same thing?"

Silence answered her. Even the computer keys were quiet in Scotland.

"Legolas is in Alaska," Halden finally replied. "Your grandmother has passed from this world, and your mother has never met Legolas. Perhaps you should form your own opinions."

"I know. But this afternoon Mom danced around the details of our family's history with your...um, your race, so nothing makes sense to me. She described you as a darling, someone I could trust, and she made me promise to call you."

"Oh, how sweet of Marian."

"But she also said that Elves are strange and unpredictable, and I must never forget they're very different, and that Legolas in particular is dangerous and someone to be avoided at all cost. She also claimed my grandmother had some sort of an affair with him."

"It was nothing so tawdry as a mere affair because Legolas does not have those. Where to begin." Halden sniffed. "Legolas fell in love with Isabel Hamilton, and certain promises were made between them, promises I was not privy to. Legolas is an extremely private individual, he did not confide everything that happened between them. I do know your grandmother accepted him and his advances very quickly, only to reject him a short time later. Legolas tried very hard to please her and failed to do so, for Isabel could not handle his intensity. They hurt each other deeply, so much so that Legolas went into self-imposed exile during Isabel's lifetime. I thought he would return to Scotland after she passed on, but he has not. The hurts she caused were many and deep, and they remain tender."

"So that's why Legolas has no love for my family?" Ivy pursued. "If he returns to Scotland in my lifetime, it would be wise to keep my distance?"

"Legolas would never hurt you," Halden asserted. "What Isabel did to him is quite sad, but he would never blame you or your mother for Isabel's actions. In any case, he is in Alaska, and you have other things to worry about. You need to prepare for your visit with us. Have you warm things to wear?"

Nice change of subject. Ivy smiled to herself.

"I know how to stay warm," she assured him with another glance at the cold rain pelting against her window. "I have sweats and long underwear and some good snow boots. And wool socks. Rag wool socks – the best."

"I fear those won't keep you as warm as you need to be. The weather can be brutal this time of year, and we have no centralized heating. I shall lay in a few things for you from Inverness. What size do you wear now?"

She laughed. "First you feed me, and now you want to dress me?"

"I wish to have you warm. The wind off Loch Shin is very cold, and this manor is not warm, even on summer days."

"Trust me, I can buy my own clothes." The doorbell sounded downstairs. "Haldir, I think the wood has arrived. I've got to go - it's raining really hard, and the wood is going to get wet before I can get it into the garage."

I called him Haldir. but he sounds like a Haldir, she argued with herself. Oh, Ivy, you are sooo riding for a fall.

"One more question." He spoke quickly. "Can you be ready to leave the day after tomorrow at eight in the morning?"

"Yes."

"A car will arrive for you at that time. You need not worry about anything other than being ready. I look forward to meeting you, Ivy MacLeod. Be sure your delivery-man brings some of the wood inside for you. Rest well, my dear."

"You too, Haldir. Or whatever it is Elves do."

He chuckled. "Pack warmly, and be sure not to forget your passport. Good-night."

"'Night."