Sorry for the delay. Life has caught up with me. Since the beginning of May I have graduated, moved, spent a week in California (I reside on the East Coast), and now I'm back in school. Anyway, I am an attorney's nightmare defendant-judgment proof. I don't even own my car, much less anything associated with Lord of the Rings. Thank you very much to all who reviewed. Things should start to pick up here soon.

The dream was usually the same and it occurred almost every night of her imprisonment in what had to be the most beautiful POW camp…well…ever. Except on the nights when one of the elves gave her that drink-which tasted suspiciously like Castor Oil.

It started with those now all-too familiar smells. Cooking flesh. Boiling blood. Rotting meat. And then the voice came, whispering into her ear. Murderer! They're dead because of you. You don't belong here. How many more will die for you? The room grew hot, like the inside of a burning copter, and something heavy pressed down upon her chest.

When they were little the family often spent their summer vacations in Georgia, on Jekyll Island. On Saturdays their mother took them to the local farmer's market; while she shopped, Harper and Cal sat with an old Gullah Geechee woman, who weaved sweet-grass baskets. She told them stories. Once she told them about the Boo Hag, an evil creature who'd sneak into a sleeping person's bedroom, sit upon their chest, and steal their breath. The only way to prevent this was to sleep with a Bible. For 17 years Harper slept with a Bible beneath her pillow.

When she had the dream and woke-up gasping for breath, she wanted nothing more than a Bible to hold onto.

She looked to the tapestry for reassurance instead-Glorfindel in golden armor, battling evil. She had a feeling the battle actually took place. It was something about the way he looked at the tapestry and his tone of voice when she'd asked him about it. Harper wanted to know more. She wanted to know how-how to be strong in the face of so much darkness. She wanted to know if it burned, battling that fiery demon, if it hurt him, if he was afraid.

But on that night the dream was different, worse. She was back in the desert. There was no helicopter, but bodies were strewn about the dunes.

The elves…

Their beautiful forms were marred and burned. Before her eyes they began to change. They shrank in stature, hunched over; elegant fingers became claws, fangs sprouted from their mouths, brilliant blue and gray eyes turned into black death.

One of them walked toward her, clumps of golden blonde hair falling from his head. She wanted to run, but her legs were frozen to the spot. The thing-she dare not think his name-grabbed her arm. "When I fought the Dark Lord," it hissed, "I lost. And I died. So will you, Harper…"

"Harper." The voice changed. The desert went black. "Harper." She couldn't breathe. People were speaking. She couldn't understand. "Harper." Something warm touched her hand.

Harper caught her breath and opened her eyes. "Glorfindel," she choked. His hair was all there, a mane of gold. His fingers were fingers. His eyes were still blue. White light surrounded him.

An angel…a god…

One of the Els stood beside him. Because the twin did not look totally pissed, she assumed it was Elladan.

They stared at her. It made Harper uncomfortable.

"Harper," Glorfindel said again. He handed her a pile of clothing and through elaborate hand gestures she figured out that he wanted her to go into the washroom and change. She complied.

Maybe they'd decided that she'd been prisoner long enough. Maybe execution was scheduled for dawn. Maybe those Vala should have known better than to choose her.

Maybe the only way to regain her sanity was to complete her Section 8 quest.

Harper inspected the clothing. He'd given her breeches and some sort of tunic. This was strange. So far all she'd been given to wear were robes and dresses-very nice robes and dresses, high quality goods which would have cost a fortune in the real world. She could just imagine Hollywood skinny I-jog-with-my-maltipoo-and-only-eat-800-calories-a-day super models wearing the elvin (or was it elfish…or elvish?) clothing down the runways in Milan.

And that made her think of Nana, who gave her nothing but clothes for birthdays and Christmas, dresses and skirts, high-heels. Nana who insisted Harper learn to behave like a proper lady...straight out of Victoria- era England. Countless afternoons she was forced to spend inside, learning etiquette. Harper closed her eyes and heard Nana's shrill voice. Which fork is for fish? A lady would never wear blue jeans, Harper; do you take no pride in your name?

Thank God the old woman died before they joined-up. Their poor parents would have never heard the end of it. It was bad enough when they started training with the Colonel, whom Nana blamed for her son marrying below his rank. Nana came from a rich family established on Sullivan's Island. Her father squandered their fortune- something Grandpa didn't know when he married her. Harper didn't think it would have made a difference anyway. J.R. Leonard loved his wife (who was the only person to call him Charles).

It was Nana who took her to Milan…without Cal. The first time the twins had been separated for more than a few days. It was miserable. They spent a week there, going to fashion shows, spending exuberant amounts of money. She even had to miss a basketball game, not that Nana approved of Harper playing basketball.

But it was a nice trip. Despite herself Harper had been thrilled by the fashion shows and reveled in the spending. Their parents taught them to be responsible with their money, and not to flaunt it. Mom bought their clothes from retail stores, Belk, JC Penny; they were given used Subaru station wagons when they turned 16-stick shifts, their mother insisted; they went to public schools and were not allowed anywhere near their trust funds until they secured suitable employment. When Nana took her to Milan, the summer before she started high school, the importance of what clothes a kid wore, what car they drove, had increased substantially, and she begged their father for a Jaguar when she returned.

Eventually she grew out of it, learned to appreciate her Subaru-which she still drove. Well, did drive. Harper seriously doubted she'd be seeing any station wagons any time soon. From what she'd observed she assumed horse was the preferred means of transportation in Section 8 Land.

And that brought her right back to Nana. The woman had insisted Harper take horseback-riding lessons. Apparently it was the sport of rich people. She suspected her grandmother had hoped to dissuade her from basketball with dreams of Equestrian Olympic gold. Harper lasted about three weeks. The horse she rode, named Fantastic and it was not, spooked and threw her. She bruised her tailbone, had to miss two days of basketball practice and had not been back on a horse since.

Harper went back into her very atheistically pleasing prison cell. The elves were waiting for her. Glorfindel gave her a look and said something which she understood to be, what took you so long? Apparently men really were all the same.

He handed over her boots and socks, which went MIA with her watch and firearms. She put them on quickly. Elladan gently took hold of her arm. He placed a blindfold over her eyes and led her out the door.

Harper paid careful attention to the turns they made. After about five minutes she felt a breeze tug at her hair. The air turned cool, damp; she was finally outside.

They walked for another ten minutes, Elladan leading her by the arm. Occasionally a twig or leaf brushed against her arms and legs.

When they stopped Elladan removed the blindfold, and Harper found herself in a large rectangular clearing, approximately three times the size of a football field. The clearing was bordered by trees and lit by a single torch.

They tried to communicate with her. Elladan made circular motions with his hand. She had no idea what he meant.

The elf sighed. He took off, sprinting about 100 yards before turning around and coming back. When he stopped he made more circular motions.

She got it. They wanted her to run laps.

Harper nodded; smiling she said, "Okay, I get it," and took off running.

She ran along the outskirts of the clearing, praying there were no holes or low- hanging branches. They last thing she needed was a broken ankle or another concussion. And doing something so clumsy in front of those oh-so-graceful elves, well, she didn't need that either.

Running laps she could do. Running she could do. The first day of basketball practice at the academy they walked into the gym to find trashcans on the four corners of the court. Coach told them to run. Basketball players needed stamina; they needed to be in shape. Run hard, if you need to puke, puke, then keep running. It didn't take very long for some of the girls. Then they started dropping like flies.

But the Colonel had prepared her. He made them run in the mid-day, mid-summer Charleston heat. He made them run in the freezing December cold. Harper could run all day

She ran hard. It felt good, good to be outdoors, out of her cell, to be mobile, doing something other than sitting around getting fat and lazy.

Her legs burned. She relished the feeling.

Harper didn't know how long she ran. Eventually Glorfindel flagged her down and she jogged over to him. It was still dark. She suspected that this was not an entirely authorized outing.

Glorfindel seemed pleased. He allowed her to stretch and then demonstrated various exercises, speaking to her the entire time. Harper was starting to pick up a few words.

She did everything he asked, push-ups, sit-ups, mountain-climbers, and her least favorite-chin-ups. She knew he was testing her.

By the time they got to the chin-ups the sky started to lighten. She used the branch of a tree to pull herself up. The bark rubbed the skin of her palms raw. Her arms shook. She dropped much sooner than she'd have liked. Cal always did five times more than her.

Harper fell to the ground in a very unelf-like manner, landing hard on her ass. "Shit," she mumbled, waiting to hear Glorfindel and Elladan laughing at her.

Instead Elladan helped her up. The elves nodded and spoke to each other, undoubtedly about her. Elladan took hold of her arm again and replaced the blindfold. They led her back to the room. Once again she paid close attention to the turns.

Back in the room, the elves commenced staring. Harper was covered in sweat. One thing Nana could not teach her was how to perspire like a lady. She hadn't bothered to look in the mirror that morning either. Her hair was likely a frizzy mess, pulled back in a sloppy pony-tale. All-in-all she looked awful and smelled worse. What I wouldn't give for some Lady Speedstick, she thought.

Harper averted her eyes. Elladan might have been a bit scrawny, but he was still incredibly…masculine and…good-looking. All of them were good-looking…perfect. She'd only seen one she-elf so far, and, well, Harper couldn't compete with that.

Not that she was there to snag a husband. No, she'd been assigned a slightly more important task. Besides, maintaining any kind of "serious" relationship had been hard enough in the real world. Apparently men found her…emasculating. She couldn't imagine how hard it'd be to keep a boyfriend here-especially if in all likelihood he was a product of her delusions.

Marriage was a lost cause anyway, even if she did made it back to the real world-or regain her sanity. They were turning 30 in August. Men became distinguished with age. Women sagged. It'd already begun. She found a few stray strands of white hair. Hangovers hurt a lot more than they used to. And her tits just weren't quite as perky as when she was 21.

Oh well.

Elladan left the room. Glorfindel walked to one of the windows. He spoke to her. She caught the word ecthelion several times.

"Glorfindel," she said. "That sounds great. What's a woman got to do to get a shower around here?"

He cocked an eyebrow. The expression was adorable, and she hated using that word in reference to men.

Harper motioned him to follow her into the washroom. She pointed at the tub. "Bath," she said.

His face lit up with a smile that made him look like a 15-year-old boy. "Bath," he repeated, and pointed toward the door.

Clearly she was missing something.

Just then Elladan came back, carrying a large pail of water. It wasn't enough to fill the tub but just enough for her to get clean.

Harper bathed quickly. The water was cold. She stared at the hair on her legs and that growing beneath her arms, wondering what it would take to get a razor. Maybe if she asked nicely enough Glorfindel could teach her how to shave with a sword.

She rinsed out her hair and got out of the tub. Harper put on the robe she'd worn prior to that morning's workout session.

Glorfindel waited for her. He had a platter of food, books, parchment, and quills. Her room had new furniture too, chairs and a desk.

They ate together; he spoke to her the entire time. When they finished eating her first language lesson began. Glorfindel started by pointing out objects in the room. She repeated every word after him several times. He then placed the quill into her hand and showed her an alphabet to copy. When she switched the quill into her left hand he gave her another adorable look. The lesson went on for quite some time, when all of a sudden, the elf took up the books and parchment, placed them in the armoire with her robes and…winked.

Erestor walked in the door. He carried books, parchment, and quills.

Glorfindel bid her good day, taking the empty platter with him.

Erestor commenced her second language lesson-a completely different language. In fact, she had not previously heard any elf speak this tongue. Westron, it was called.

If it wasn't for her training, education, and talent, Harper would have had a very hard time learning the two languages simultaneously. Which meant either Glorfindel knew about this whole, save-the-world thing, or he just thought she was one clever chick; maybe even both, it would be nice for those Vala to give her a bit of help, until she found this Golden Lord fellow anyway.

The oxygen machine hummed.

"A lady should always carry herself with proper posture," Nana told her. "And Charles, spit out that gum."

Her brother did as he was told.

She continued to slump.

They'd watched The Empire Strikes Back the night before, and she couldn't get it out of her head. Darth Vader was Luke's father! Harper honestly did not see it coming. Cal had laughed at the shocked expression on her face.

Their parents made them go to bed when the movie ended. They could watch Return of the Jedi after their Latin lessons, and quality time spent with Grandpa Leonard.

Grandpa Leonard didn't know they were there. He lay in his hospital bed; his haggard breathing reminded her of Darth Vader.

Nana turned him to the dark side.

She almost giggled.

"He's not really Luke's father, is he Cal?"

Cal grinned. "Why wouldn't he be? I thought you said Star Wars was stupid anyway?" His dirty blonde hair had been lightened by the summer-sun, days spent surfing at Folly Beach. He liked to do things she couldn't, like surfing, and baseball.

Softball just wasn't the same thing.

It drove her insane.

"It is stupid. I mean, Luke is a Jedi. Vader is evil. I bet he's lying. I bet Obi-Wan is really Luke's father."

"Well," he leaned over and ruffled her hair. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, sis."

Cal didn't look anything like the rest of them. They all had dark hair, dark eyes, long limbs. Except Grandpa Leonard, he had green eyes, and lighter hair, but not as light as Cal's. He wasn't short like Cal either.

"Cut it out, Charles." She swatted his hand away. Only Nana called him Charles. Cal hated it.

They sat right next to Grandpa's bed, purposely avoiding looking at the dying man. He'd been delusional for weeks, mumbling nonsense. He didn't even recognize them.

Grandpa was a quiet man, especially compared to the Colonel who yelled everything.

His eyes opened suddenly, filled with intense clarity. She stopped bickering with her brother.

Grandpa pulled off his oxygen mask. "Where are my grandchildren, I must tell them," his voice was stronger than she'd ever heard it.

"We're right here, Grandpa," Cal said.

Their grandfather's green eyes turned on Cal. "Son," he said. "Observe the time, and fly from evil." And then he looked at Harper. "You both must remember. You must understand, Harper. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." His eyes clouded over. The nurse replaced his oxygen mask.

He died two weeks later.

She didn't understand why the memory came to her that morning. She waited for Glorfindel and Elladan, pacing in front of her bed when it hit her-sitting with their grandfather. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

"I think I'm cracking up," she said to woven Glorfindel.

They didn't come for her that morning. For five days the routine had been the same. Glorfindel and Elladan woke her up hours before dawn for endurance training. Then Glorfindel tutored her in Sindarin and fed her gluttonous amounts of food. If she didn't know any better-and she didn't-she'd have thought the elf was trying to fatten her up; after Sindarin Erestor would come in for Westron lessons.

She didn't sleep that night. The elves had been leaving her alone in her room at night. One sat outside her door, listening, she was sure, for any escape attempts. And they were bound to hear everything with those ears. She lay awake thinking of her family, of her friends.

Harper didn't have any real friends until the Air Force. There were certain girls she associated with in high school, teammates mostly, but even then she was self-aware enough to realize the relationships were mostly superficial. Not that she didn't have fun with those girls-she just the friendships weren't very deep. Cal was her best friend, her confidant. And then Stew.

They didn't get along at first. Stew didn't appreciate babysitting the interpreter. He was wary of all women in the military.

Her thoughts were interrupted by rapid knocking. "Enter," she called out in Westron, just in case.

Glorfindel strode into the room, grinning from ear-to-ear. The sight made Harper smile; he was clearly excited about something.

"Well met, my friend!" He exclaimed, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her out the door before she could respond.