DISCLAIMER: Just Carla and Abby are mine…

Chapter Two

Sister Darling

If you've ever seen an elf struck dumb, it's an interesting experience. Even more interesting is the expression of an elf that's received a severe shock from a *human*, and even better than that is the look on his face when it's a human *girl* he is completely astounded by.

Every elf in the Council, including Elrond, was stunned silent.

Gandalf stepped forward. "I think we'd best discuss this in privet," he rumbled. I didn't reply, only nodded, and followed as he led me out of the Council along with Elrond.

We came to what must be Elrond's privet chambers. Both elf and wizard were completely expressionless, and at this point I admit I was scared.

Okay, okay, I was scared you-know-what less.

"Well," Elrond said after a painfully long moment of silence. "Who are the bearers?"

I swallowed and found that my mouth was dry with fear. "You are, sir," I replied without looking up. "You wield the Ring of Sapphire, greatest of the Three—I'm sorry, I can't remember it's name. Gandalf wields the Ring of Fire, and Galadriel holds the Ring of Adamant."

"Look at me, Abby," Elrond commanded. I looked up into those dark eyes and instantly felt as though I were being tested or probed. Perhaps I was.

"How did you acquire this knowledge?" he asked.

"I read it from a book, sir," I said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

"What book?" Gandalf asked, his voice like cold steel.

"It was called *The Silmarillion*, sir."

I finally managed to look away from Elrond—I felt as though I was being released.

"Do you speak elvish?" he asked me at last.

I knew enough by now to look at him when I replied. "No, sir."

Elrond and Gandalf began speaking rapidly in what I figured must be the elven language. I stood there and stared at my hands, and realized I was sweating I was so scared.

At last Elrond looked up. "Though I do not know how our most heavily guarded secret has ended up in a book," he said with heavy irony. "I do believe that you mean no harm, that your tale is true, and that you are who you say you are. But," he added warningly, lifting a finger to accent the point, "you will not be allowed to leave Rivendell. The Enemy must not find out such a secret as yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

He regarded me for a moment, then shook his head. "Don't look so scared, child. We're not going to eat you."

"Even if we run low on food?" I couldn't help but ask.

To my surprise, both Gandalf and Elrond chuckled. "Even if we run low," Elrond assured me. "If you don't need anything at the moment, why don't you go walk for a while? I'll send someone to find you in a little while."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't call me 'sir.' Call me Elrond, or Master Elrond if you must be formal."

"Yes s—Elrond."

I scuttled out of there as fast as I could, trying to seem as though I was completely at ease.

Bullshit. I was scared rhymes-with-witless.

I wandered around Rivendell aimlessly, becoming thoroughly lost until I finally found my way outside, and tried to calm my seething stomach.

Just as I thought that I had been forgotten, an elf that looked vaguely familiar came up to me. "Abby?" he asked.

"Huh?" I replied intelligently. All I could notice was how cute he was. And young, too.

Oh, stop it, I told myself. He's probably closer to six millennia than your age!

"You're foot better?" he asked.

"Huh?" I repeated, taken by his hairstyle. "Uh, yeah."

"Fast recovery."

"It's amazing how fast one can recover when you're faced with bodily torture."

The elf's eyes crinkled in amusement. "If it's any comfort, I doubt Lord Elrond would have let them go through with it."

"Hallelujah." The elf shook his head in bewilderment. I just shrugged.

"Follow me, please," he instructed, a bit arrogantly.

"Do I have to?"

"Only if you want dinner."

"Let's move it or loose it, people!"

The elf laughed and motioned for me to follow him. I trotted after him, admiring how nicely my foot had cleared up when turning up in Rivendell. Must be something in the air.

He left me at a small but cozy room, wished me pleasant dreams and went off on down the hallway.

"Just like a man," I muttered, peering at my room curiously, "to forget to tell you where the bathroom is. And how the hell am I going to change my pads? Shit. And what about next time? Does Elrond keep stores of painkillers? Would he let me use them, or would I just have to suffer? My god, would the painkillers make me sick? Ugh, what's that *smell?*"

That "smell" turned out to be dinner. It was a perfectly good dinner—vegetable and meat stew, white bread, butter, wine, (do I look twenty-one? I wondered) and a pastry for desert, but when you are on your period, especially the first day, not only do you not want to eat, you don't want to smell anything. And I had just started my period—and to my horror, I realized my pain medication was wearing off.

By the time someone was sent to check on me, I was lying in bed moaning like a demented animal. Alarmed, the elf wanted to send for Elrond, who was the last person I wanted to explain my—illness—to. Luckily, the elf's wife, who was a something of an elven-nurse, happened to walk by at the time. After she sent her hubby out I managed to explain everything through whimpers of pain.

All I have to say is we need to take after the elves more. At least in medicine. The painkillers she gave me not only quieted my stomach and killed my cramps and other severe discomforts (there was nothing MILD about this period) in about five minutes, but it knocked me out as well. When I woke up there was a bowl of plain broth on the table, a stack of clean rags that I suspected were pads the size of Mount Doom, and plenty of undergarments. Not only that, but I found someone had put a bathtub in the privy room, filled it with hot water, and added heated rocks to keep the water warm. It was just right when I woke up, so I gratefully dove in. I found to my amazement that it even had a plug in the bottom I could pull. I tried to see where the water drained but decided after a moment that I really didn't want to know.

I sipped the broth and curled back up wearily. I kicked off my shoes, slipped into a silken nightgown and fell asleep after putting the half- finished broth back on the table.

It had to be around noon or one o'clock when I woke up in the morning. From the look of the place, someone had come in, started a fire and also taken out the broth and left in its place some fresh wheat bread and mild jam, with some water to wash it down with. Also was a note under a cup of herbs saying if I needed more painkillers to ask one of the elves for "Delara." I whispered a thank-you to Elbereth and boiled some water, pouring it over the herbs and drinking the dose of painkillers. I went back to sleep—what else was there to do?—and woke up in later afternoon, drowsy and not at all inclined to get up. I fussed in bed for a while, checked out the room a little bit and napped some more. This, for any of you who have had the blessing of not having periods yet, or being boys, is all you can do for the first two days of your period. Especially if there's no incentive to get up, such as school, though for us that's not much of an incentive.

Of course, when a handsome elf knocks on your door, the LAST thing you want is for him to see you in a nightgown on your period with no perfume on.

I squirted myself with some sweet-smelling stuff I suspected must be perfume that I had found on my dresser pulled on a bathrobe and opened the door.

Legolas Greenleaf's chest stood exactly two inches from my nose.

"Hi," I said weakly.

"Hello," he replied simply. Men. They never know how to start a conversation.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely.

"Are you Abby?" he asked in return.

Was I the girl you were looking at suspiciously only yesterday?

"Uh huh."

"Lord Elrond wants to see you."

"Already?"

He cocked an eye at me. "Already."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

MEN!

"How long do I have to get ready?"

He looked confused. "You look fine." In a bathrobe and nightgown. Unwashed. Uncombed. No shoes. On my period. Yeah, right.

I laughed weakly. "How long, Legolas?"

"Uh, I suppose half an hour?"

"Okay, half an hour it is."

I closed the door and rushed around the room. No time to make the bed—dang, where was my makeup? Ah, yes I had it in my pocket. Just a bit—I was all flushed anyway. Uh, fresh clothes? Umm, smell good. Wash armpits—what now? Uh, uh, shoot, fifteen minutes! Shoes, where's my damn SHOES?!! Knock on the door. Shoot, he's early. "Just a minute!" Run a comb through hair. Check appearance seven times for luck. KNOCK KNOCK. "Coming!" Straighten my clothes once more and open door.

"Sorry," I said mildly. "Just getting used to a new room."

"Ah," he replied.

We walked in silence down the hall to Elrond's room. The hottest elf ever to live left me there, to my disappointment. I knocked on Elrond's door, and went in.

It was just like in the movie—only bigger. If you remember, when Elrond comes in giving his "men are weak" speech, there's a door in the upper right corner of the room and a hall behind it. You can't see it in the movie, but at the end of that hall was the door I came through.

I walked down the hall where I could hear voices at the far end of the room.

I turned a corner and met face to face with my worst nightmare.

My sister Carla, having tea with Gandalf the Gray and Elrond Half- Elven, Lord of Rivendell.

ME: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

CARLA: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

TOGETHER: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

ELROND: MY EARS! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

So it didn't happen quite like that—Elrond didn't yell, just tried to shut us up. Not easy. I certainly screamed, though, and so did Carla. In fact, to my extreme disgust, I dropped down in a dead faint.

"Must be the stress," I woke to hear my sister say. "She could never deal with stress well."

I lunged blindly for her voice and was rewarded when we went down in a tangle of arms and legs. "HOW DARE YOU?" I screamed, pulling her hair. "HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY VISIT TO THE ONE PLACE I LOVE MORE THAN A BOOKSTORE YOU SADISTIC BITCH! I'LL RIP YOUR HAIR RIGHT OUT OF YOUR SCALP YOU—"

I was dragged away by an arm of considerable force by the back of my shirt. NOTE: Gandalf may LOOK old but don't let that fool you. He lifted me right off the ground and plopped me on the couch as Elrond did something similar to Carla. Carla had the stupidity to fight Elrond, who then dumped her head-first into the couch, to her extreme annoyance, before both of them took chairs between us.

I sat up and glowered at my sister. "I hate you," I told her.

"Go to hell."

"I take it you know one another?" Gandalf said sarcastically.

"You just think you're so pretty, don't you?" I shot back, ignoring him. "Well I have news for you, little sister. Little *baby*. Its nap time for you. Go home!"

"You should talk. You ruined my novel—I worked six months on that!"

"If you don't know how to replace a deleted file, don't come whining to me."

Elrond and Gandalf, to their credit, were amazingly patient—let us run our stream of insults (some of which weren't exactly pleasant) until we started repeating ourselves, then stopped us with a few dry, well-said sentences. Both of us stopped bickering.

"I gather you're sisters," Elrond said with well-placed irony.

"I want a blood test," Carla retorted.

"I want a cage."

"I want a straight-jacket."

"I want a tranquilizer!"

"You both will be staying here until we can find a way to send you back," Gandalf continued.

"Give her over to Sauron," Carla suggested. She'd read *The Hobbit* and *The Fellowship of the Ring*, but had hated both so had given up.

To a place and people whom Sauron was a real and dangerous threat, that was the WRONG thing to say, missy.

"That's quite enough!" Elrond thundered. "Carla, I will deal with you later. You know where your room is—you're dismissed!"

Carla stormed out like the toddler she is.

I sat and stared at my lap, humiliated. I had lost my temper in front of two of the people I respected most from my reading of J.R.R. Tolkien's work.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"What was that?" Elrond asked sharply.

"I'm sorry."

"And well you should be!" I realized dimly that Gandalf had left, leaving the most dang intimidating elf-lord I had ever met, and me, together, alone. Well, the only elf-lord I had ever met but still…

"She's your sister."

"I hate her!" I burst out suddenly, tears filling my eyes. "She's so cruel! She—she—" I stopped and bit my lip hard, flinching when I pulled a bit of skin off the top of my lower lip.

"She what?" Elrond demanded.

"She took away my parent's attention," I said softly in the silence. All the bitterness and rage I held for her in my heart bubbled up like bile in my mouth. "My parents always paid attention to me before she was born," I said bitterly. "Then Carla was born and it was, 'Ooooh, look at the cute baby!' and 'she'll be growing up to be a famous person someday,' 'too bad Abby isn't more like her!' 'Honey, did you remember to give Carla her allowance today? We really should raise it, she's so well behaved.'" Tears trickled down my cheeks. "They don't care," I said into my lap. "They don't care about me anymore."

I heard the soft rustle of silken fabric as Elrond stood and came to sit by my side and put his hand gently on my shoulder.

One thing I'll give the elves is that they know when not to preach, unlike human adults. "It's hard being the older sibling," Elrond stated softly to no one in particular. "The younger is always babied, for the parents fear her being picked on."

"She never gets picked on," I said resentfully. "She's the popular one. *I'm* the one who's picked on. *I'm* the one dealing with the bullies at school, and the teachers who all favor *her*, the little brat."

Another wonderful thing about elves—they have plenty of time on their hands. Eons, literally, so they don't mind sitting down with someone and listening to their problems if there are no other pressing needs.

"There's not much I can say or do, Abby," he told me, and I was startled by the use of my name. I looked up, as was probably what he wanted me to do. "All I can do is give you a little bit of advice—don't hate your sister so much you can't feel joy yourself, or live your own life. Your parents love you and they always will. Maybe Carla is playing a game with you for your parents' attention. So, play her back. If your parents don't see what she's doing—compete back at her. Do better in school, work harder in projects, get the favor of the teachers again, talk to your parents more. Heaven knows that's what Elladan and Elrohir did."

I sniffed. "They did? *Them?*"

"Oh, dear Elbereth, yes. They were always competing. They were impossible. Especially when Arwen was born—but, they grew out of it, and they learned to work over their differences."

"By burring each other with punishment chores?"

"That, too," Elrond replied, and chuckled. "Child, I'm sure some of us would do almost anything to be an only child, but we don't have that option. All we have is the option of what to do with our lives, and what road we choose to travel."

I looked askance at him. "Are all elves this cryptic, or are these symptoms of the Wisdom Disease only found in Elf-Lords?"

Elrond only laughed shook his head. "Go on with you," he replied. "I need to get some work done."

"Is it implied that I, Abby Elrean Dulbo, would interrupt your concentration by some means?" I asked with mock pique.

"You would, easily, and without realizing it," Elrond retorted. "Go on, off with you!"

I scampered out of the room and ran down the entrance hall. I needed a bit of fresh air.

I found my sister outside, pestering a bumblebee, who promptly stung her. She can be so stupid sometimes.

"Hey, stupid," she greeted me, ironically. "Wanna hear what my teachers say about my latest report?"

I smiled evilly in response. "Let the games begin," I answered gleefully.