Pictor Ignotus

Chapter Nine--Time In A Bottle

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"If I could save time in a bottle…" my fingers picked out the roll on the strings from memory, nimbly switching chords and chiming in lightly. My voice was barely louder than a whisper over the song I played, and I was just fine with that. The beautiful part of "Time In A Bottle" was the music itself; not so much the lyrics.

"…till eternity passes away…"

The song brought back a myriad of memories, all dating back to my teen years when I'd first picked up a guitar. "Time In A Bottle" had been the first song I'd ever learned when I was young. I used to listen to my father play it, his large and ungainly-looking fingers picking out the song as easily and instinctively as a flower blooms in the spring. It had been enchanting, a perfect unification of man and instrument. I'd been determined to learn it myself.

The last note range out and I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head on the ancient Gibson that had belonged to my father. He couldn't play it anymore. Not now, at least.

"If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true;

The box would be empty except for the memory of

How they were answered by you…"1

I squeezed my eyes together tightly when a slight wetness began to assail their surface. Every part of that song spoke of my father.

"That was beautiful."

I glanced up in surprise to see Mr. Eros staring at me appraisingly, "I did not know you had such talent…"

"Practice makes perfect," I said sardonically, picking up the guitar and laying it back in its hard case. "After a while, you're no longer playing the guitar…the guitar just plays you."

"Why have you not played it more often?"

I snapped the last clasp of the case shut and sighed, "No time. And I'm out of practice. It's rather depressing to see how bad I've gotten over the years."

That was a bit of a lie. True, I was out of practice, but the guitar was one of those things that if you stayed away for a while and picked it up again you would relearn it quicker than the amount of time it took you to actually pick up the guitar itself.

"Only more reason to play more often."

"Is there something you want?" His nagging was getting highly exasperating.

"I have not found anything in the book."

"I know. It's been a week and nobody's found anything. I don't know what to tell you, Legolas."

"That you have another plan--another idea to get Frodo and I back home." His eyes were ridiculously pleading and it was all I could do to not run up and hug him.

"Look," I ran my hand through my hair in frustration, "You don't understand--"

He interjected, "Why can I not understand, Iorwen? Please, if you would just--"

"No. Listen. I still have to work no matter what, okay? So my help is a little limited. Marian works less, so she's more able to help, but neither of us can devote all of our time to you both."

"Then at least allow us to leave the apartment. Maybe outside Frodo and I can discover more--"

"Legolas." I said loudly, making him stop mid-sentence, "Atlanta is… You don't have any idea what you're saying. Cities are crazy places, and I don't think you'd know what to do with yourself out there. There's violence, protocol, social taboo, laws; so many things that you've never encountered."

"Iorwen." Legolas took a few steps closer to where I was sitting on the bed, and just his advance made me jump a little, "Frodo and I can not stay inside this apartment forever. Granted, it has only been two weeks, but I have not truly been outside in all that time. I AM A WOOD ELF, Iorwen. It is highly plausible that if I have to stay in here one day longer I shall rip everything inside this apartment to pieces. Frodo also loves the woods and nature--he lived in a hole covered in a carpet of green grass for his entire life before he came here."

There was a very disturbing look in his eyes when he said this, but thankfully my attention was ripped away from that when I heard a crash in the kitchen and a very loud yelp. Jumping up, Legolas and I sprinted into the kitchen where Marian and Frodo were lying in a heap, both of them wearing a very peeved expression. I instantly realized what had been going on. "You two were trying to reach the Triscuits I hid up on top of the cabinets, weren't you?"

Marian answered angrily, "You fiend! Why can't you just leave Frodo and I to our Bronco Trolleys? We never said you had to eat them!"

"Because it's revolting just to watch you two eat them--that's why."

Frodo grumbled something as he stood up and I bent my neck a little in his direction. "What was that? Has our little Frodo anything to say on the matter?"

Frodo glared at me. "You know, I am not normally so hostile. I will have you know that when I was actually in Middle Earth I was a good deal cheerier than I am now."

I was confused. "What on earth does that have to do with what I just asked?"

Frodo blanched and looked equally--if not more so--confused. "I am…not…really sure." He quickly ran away, and I glanced over at Marian. "What's wrong with him?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't seem anything like he does in the books or the movies, though."

I nodded. "Maybe it's just cause he's not in the middle of a war right now. No…" I lowered my voice, "ring-overpowerization."

I thought Legolas hadn't heard, but I of course forgot about his super hearing. He glanced at us sharply and I put a finger to my lips. Everyone had agreed that it would be best not to mention The Ring at all around Frodo. That was one of the reasons that I'd given him The Hobbit to read. It, out of all the books, mentioned The Ring least of all.

"Iorwen."

I glanced over at Legolas, "What?"

"You didn't answer my request from earlier."

Damn. This stupid elf didn't miss a beat. "I'm still leery about it, Legolas. I just…" I turned to Marian, "Do you think these two should be allowed out?"

Marian blinked. "Wha--? I mean…sure. Why not? They've been crammed in here for a long time now. It's only fair that they should be let out."

Legolas looked smug and I pressed further on Marian. "I mean, like…into the city?"

"NO!" Marian stared wide-eyed at Legolas, "Are you kidding? Him!" she pointed at the elf, "and him!" she pointed in the general direction of Frodo, "in one of the chaotic centers of our modern world?! Nu-uh. No way. I have two words for you: absolute disaster."

I smiled and turned to the elf-prince who was considerably more glum now that Marian had re-spoken. "See? It's a bad idea all around. There's no way you or Frodo are going to the city."

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"Found anything yet?"

I bent down next to Legolas who was typing in random information on Google. He'd picked up computer skills quicker than anything else we'd taught him so far. Despite the fact that the didn't understand all of it, (but who really does, anyway? Except for Bill Gates himself) He was able to pick up on the idea of a box containing vast amounts of information and interactive capabilities. I was quite proud of him. Because of his understanding of the computer, he was quickly becoming addicted to the internet and the information it could give him. It was his one connection to the outside world other than Marian and myself. Right now, he was looking at some page on World War 2 with great interest.

"Ah," I said seeing the topic he was reading, "Operation: Market Garden. Pretty big disaster, that. The Germans actually managed to wipe-out the British 1st Airborne Division. We lost the bridge at Arnhem, but, mind you, this is actually considered the last success the Germans were able to claim in the Western Campaign. We eventually sent them back into economic distress again--the same state they were in before World War 2 because of World War 1."

Legolas glanced back at me and smiled. "You seem to know a lot about this…"

"I love history, and wars have always fascinated me. Military campaigns, tactics, successes, and failures are something to be studied to me. I had actually planned on getting into the military after college in high school."

"Why did you not join?" Legolas looked only mildly surprised at my statement.

"I wasn't sure I could do it. And, truthfully, I was a little afraid. Pretty much the entirety of our military--any military--is made up of males, and…well, I knew I'd have a LOT to deal with if I got myself into a situation like that. Not only would I have to deal with the difficulties of competing with males in physical training, but I'd also have to deal with the males themselves. I don't think of myself as some voluptuous beauty that would have to beat off all the guys, but I was worried about the idea of having to deal with all the male hormones.."

Legolas looked grim. "It's a shame that men of your times act so primal. To the elves, women are considered precious. We treat them with the same respect that we would bestow upon a queen. Any male that hurt a female in my kingdom would be banished instantly. My father especially hates disrespect to women of any race--including humans."

"He sounds like a smart man--elf, your father." I said, smiling down at the reminiscing elf.

"Yes," Legolas' face turned somber, "He is…"

I decided to change the subject. "You should look up the Red Baron. He was an extraordinary German fighter pilot of World War One. I think he had somewhere around eighty confirmed kills."

"Confirmed?"

"The number of kills a pilot makes--or a sniper for that matter--that are authenticated by authorities in a war."

"Eighty does not sound like so many to me. I, myself, have taken out around forty in one battle alone."

"Air-fighting is very difficult, Legolas. It's not as simple as 'slash-and-hack' in the air. Especially not in World War One when American and French pilots had to shoot with the original Lewis Gun."

I was able to entertain Legolas with my knowledge of human warfare for another good twenty minutes before I finally ran out of steam and I realized I was hungry. But, to my dismay, when I headed to the refrigerator to find food there was nothing worthy of eating. "Marian! Did you and Frodo eat all of the lunch meat?!"

I heard Frodo snicker and Marian called back (with a full mouth), "No!"

"Mindless ruffians," I grumbled, too lazy to start a fight. Legolas looked at me inquisitively from the computer. "Do any of the Totinos pizzas remain?"

"No." I answered angrily. "Their Royal Shortnesses ate all of those, too."

Legolas brightened up. "That means you shall have to go get food, does it not?"

I glanced at him warily. "Generally, when one is out of food, one must go get food, yes."

"Can I accompany you, then?"

"No. Legolas we've been over this. I told you."

"You just said the city. But you are not going into the city, are you?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Then I shall come with you." Instantly, the ecstatic elf hopped up. I sighed, "All right, but only because you need to get more clothes. There's only a certain number of times I can rewash a pair of pants before they simply fade away to nothing."

Frodo suddenly came bursting onto the scene, carrying Marian behind him. "You two can not leave without me! I wish to be released from this prison as well!"

"No way." I stomped my foot, making the hobbit jump, "Legolas can go because he looks relatively normal. You, however, are the height of a midget with grotesquely hairy feet the size of skis. And we can't cover them up, because nobody in the world has shoes that would fit them. Not to mention, your face is so familiar to virtually every preteen girl on the planet, we'd be running as soon as you walked into the store."

"But Legolas--"

"I don't care." Truth was, I really didn't. Cause as much as I wanted to deny it, I was sort of looking forward to some time with only me and Legolas again. I really did want to get to know him better, and that wasn't easy when I constantly had an agitated hobbit hanging off my arm and a Triscuit-deprived friend constantly asking whether or not she could borrow my car to go and plead with Ben to take her back. That talk I'd just had about warfare was the closest thing to a civilized conversation I'd experienced this entire week. I was dreadfully curious about Legolas now that I truly believed he was what he claimed to be. And I was dying to find out about Middle Earth from someone who'd actually lived there in Mirkwood.

Well, okay, yeah, that was mostly what I was telling myself. And it was true…partially. Another part of it was…Legolas fascinated me. Which is kind of what I said earlier, but this was a different type of fascination. Not the "wow-he's-from-another-totally-wicked-cool-world", this was more of a… "I-can't-analyze-him-like-everyone-else" fascination. There was something so horribly mysterious and hidden about Legolas--something I wanted to understand. There were so many things that he did that just didn't add up to me, like, say, how he could talk so carelessly about taking forty lives in a battle, but yet he blushed when he realized there was a bra laying on my dryer. Or when he would go out of his way to help me or Marian-just to be chivalrous--but then, at times, when he was being particularly melancholy, he wouldn't even look at me for hours on end. He was an enigma--something so totally and completely different from anything that I'd ever encountered. And it wasn't just his odd little quirks. Something around his eyes, those Elvin eyes… He had to be able to see things I couldn't. He just had to. Legolas was like some all-knowing, omnipotent being that I couldn't even hope to understand. Everything about his person was just so totally unreachable. But, yet…there was also something undeniably--pardon the expression--human, about him. In time, I hoped to figure him out.

"If I could save time in a bottle…"

I turned to Frodo and smiled, "No, Frodo. Not just yet."

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:Well, there we have it. I think you guys will notice that now there is some progress being made in their relationship. I hope it's all to ya'll's liking. (Yes, I just said "ya'll's." In Texas, you will find that "ya'll" can be adapted to pretty much any situation.) Please review, lovely readers o' mine!

MusicalCharlatan

1 "Time In A Bottle", Written by Jim Croce