CHAPTER TEN
Ivy's day began abruptly when bright sunlight burst against her eyelids, and a buzzing brought her upright in bed. Shielding her eyes from a sudden light, she discovered Legolas standing at the foot of her bed with the window curtains' remote control in hand. Bags from J.Crew were stacked beside her on the bed - no doubt her share of the goodies delivered after their night of shopping before.
Legolas' long hair was wet and slicked back, and Ivy was startled to realize the Elf was dressed only in one of the thick terrycloth bath-robes furnished by the hotel. Tossing the remote onto the bed, he smiled - more like smirked - at her.
"Aur vaer," he greeted her.
"You did that on purpose," she accused, knowing she sounded as grumpy as she felt. Snatching up the remote, she punched random buttons until she found the one that made the curtains shut out a bit of the light.
"Did what on purpose?"
"Woke me up like that. Because I threw a pillow at you."
"I would never do that." The mischievous look in his blue eyes told another story. "I merely wished to inform you it is seven o'clock and time for Queen's Daughter to be awake. The plane is scheduled to leave at nine."
"Seven o'clock here is four in San Francisco," she grumped.
"I share your pain, as in Alaska it is only three in the morning. You have time for a shower and breakfast before we leave." With that, Legolas was gone.
Twenty minutes later saw Ivy showered and dressed and putting her now-overstuffed bag near the living room door. Alastair grumbled a good morning through his bacon and eggs as Ivy eyed the offerings on the breakfast trolley.
Legolas stood at the window with his back to her, the cell phone once more glued to his ear. Holding a comb in his other hand, he tried yanking it through his hair. The long, tangled strands fought him, and Legolas let loose with what Ivy thought sounded like a stream of Dwarven curses - it was either that, or the garbled noise of rocks being chewed.
Going to the Elf, she dared to take the comb from him. "Don't hurt yourself. Let me help."
That earned her a harsh glower, but Ivy didn't think she was in any real danger. He's more angry at his hair than at me. If I'm wrong, he'll just have to punish me by not letting me have any breakfast.
Unable to bear the thought of the Elf's ripping out any more lovely golden strands, Ivy went to her purse. She returned to Legolas' side as he concluded his latest call to Haldir.
Rubbing the palms of her hands together, she ordered, "Turn around."
"What is that?" He indicated the clear, thick substance on her hands, and did not turn around.
"I call it hair-snot. It's made to prevent frizz, but I think it might detangle your hair the way it does mine."
He stared at her so intently that Ivy very nearly squirmed.
"Um...would you like to break with tradition? Trust me just this once, and turn around?"
Legolas sighed deeply before turning around. Very slowly. "If this does not work, I will wash it out."
"You do that." Regal prince of Mirkwood much? she thought.
Quickly gathering the recalcitrant Elf's hair before he changed his mind, Ivy discovered it was much heavier than it looked. Part of her was doing no little bit of delighted squealing. I'm touching his hair - LEGOLAS' hair. Oh, wow, this is too cool! The more adult part of her was frantically cautioning, Don't squee out loud and blow it, m'kay?
Briskly rubbing the thick gel through Legolas' hair, Ivy said a little prayer to whatever angels were listening and held her breath before gingerly applying the comb. I hope this works on him the way it does on me, and doesn't leave a greasy mess.
She let out her breath as the comb glided easily through the gold. A few tugs were inevitable, but they were minor and easily smoothed.
"All done," she announced, reluctantly handing back the comb as the Elf whirled. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"It was actually enjoyable." He sounded amazed as he stared at the comb, as if it were responsible all by itself for his gentler grooming. "As a child, I despised having my hair detangled. It was unbelievably painful and something to be avoided for as long as possible, which only made matters worse as you might imagine. Mithrandir had to bribe me to sit still."
Mithrandir? Ivy puzzled. Why was Gandalf combing Legolas' hair when he was a child?
"Le hannon, Ivy." He sounded sincere. "The world has indeed changed if there are inventions in it such as...hair snot." Placing a hand on her shoulder, he guided her toward the table. "I am keeping you from your breakfast, and you must eat."
"Are you eating too?"
"I have had tea. It is all I require." Out came the cell phone again, and Legolas wandered back across the room.
Ivy frowned, first at the Elf and then at Alastair who had watched the entire exchange with great interest and was eating enough scrambled eggs and bacon for both him and Legolas.
"You're eating all that?" Ivy asked.
"'Tis a long flight, lassie."
Selecting a croissant and some fruit, Ivy poured a cup of coffee and looked over at Legolas. "He can't live on tea alone."
"Himself's stomach's his own concern. Sit with me and eat your breakfast. We've the Rolls waitin' to take us to the plane. Were it a weekday, we'd have the helicopter."
"A helicopter?" That got her attention. "Why?"
"To avoid the morning traffic, of course. We've Lairg to reach, and it's best we be off sooner than later so the laird's not kept waiting."
Nodding her agreement, Ivy tucked into her breakfast.
# #
The Learjet had scarcely finished its climb from JFK International Airport in the bright morning light and leveled off before Legolas unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up. Thumping down his two-inch stack of papers on the table before Ivy, he slipped into chair opposite her.
I guess he doesn't feel the need to sit with his back to the bulkhead any more, she thought.
Ivy was grateful for the more relaxed mood between them, but anxiety washed over her when Legolas skimmed off the top of his stack and set the papers before her.
"Haldir indicated these are for you." Reaching for a nearby drawer, the Elf retrieved two writing pads and passed one to Ivy. A brief search yielded one pen and no others. "Perhaps Alastair has one you might borrow?"
"That's okay, I have my own."
"Very well. Haldir has sent you a brief history of Ithilien, our council, and the Queen's Daughters. I must concentrate my own dossier and cannot stop to answer any questions you may have. Haldir will address them after we arrive."
Picking up the first sheet, the Elf was as good as his word. Ivy could feel the change in his mood, as well as the 'do not disturb' vibe wrapped around him. Regardless Legolas' distance, Ivy felt encouraged he had taken the time to explain the reasons for it to her.
Maybe I should follow his example and concentrate on my own homework? she thought. No doubt Haldir will give me a test.
Ithilien's faxed history came from a tired, dog-eared copy, complete with the occasional floating letter. Elves are great typists, I take it? Ivy thought. I'd bet my next art commission that every Queen's Daughter has been given this since...um, when were typewriters invented?
It was dry going. The Queen's Daughter stuff consisted of only a list of names, complete with birthdates and death dates. Beyond seeing her mother and grandmother's names listed, it meant nothing to Ivy. The board history told her it had been around a long time, they had planned to do things and did them for centuries. There was nothing personal or even slightly interesting in the notes.
Maybe that's so, if the notes are lost, no one will be able to tell they were written by real Elves?
Bored, Ivy leafed through the remaining pages to see if they became more appealing. They didn't.
Haldir had to pen this stuff, she thought, because they're nothing like the histories I imagine Lord Elrond would have written before he left Middle-earth. I wish I could have seen them. Not that I could have read them, but still.
She doodled on the pad and considered the list of Queen's Daughters. Most had died before the age of forty. Did Legolas know all of them? Ivy wondered. How did they die? Were all of them mad? Will I go crazy and die too? We can't speak of Arwen - what else aren't they telling me, and why?
Her doodles became rough sketches of Legolas' hand moving across the writing pad opposite her. He was using a fountain pen, she noted. Some vintage thing that might have come off of some lawyer's desk. Or maybe Sherlock Holmes'. It was old, anyway.
Did Legolas read the Sherlock Holmes stories when they were new? Or see Shakespeare's plays the first time they were put on? Did he lose friends to the Black Plague, or hide out in Scotland until it was over? He's lived over six thousand years, but no Queen's Daughter's made it past a hundred.
Tolkien said the Mortal mind couldn't handle immortality, she remembered. So did some Queen's Daughters commit suicide rather than face living forever? Is that why they're not around?
She eyed the golden head bowed over its work. Great time to stop talking to me, Legolas. Did those who came before me go mad like Rochester's wife in Jane Eyre and have to be locked away? Is there an asylum somewhere up in the Highlands where insane QDs are kept?
Legolas was scrawling notes in the margins of his faxes. Elvish notes, in a spiky handwriting that was lovely, even upside-down. Leaning back from the table, Ivy continued sketching bits of him. She even got a partial profile when he turned his head to consult his previous notes. He seemed to have forgotten her presence, which Ivy thought miraculous given the tension between them only the day before.
The morning passed until hunger inspired Ivy to prowl the lunch hamper the Four Seasons had prepared for them. Knocking on the cockpit's door, she slipped inside to give Alastair his choice of sandwich and treats before returning to the table and offering the same to Legolas.
The Elf murmured his thanks, but took only an apple. Setting it aside, he ignored the rest and went back to reading.
"You need to eat something," Ivy urged, unwrapping her chicken salad sandwich.
"I'll eat after the meeting." He didn't even looked up.
A few minutes later, Legolas' pen failed and he shook it. When that didn't work, he unscrewed the nib and examined the bladder inside.
"It's empty," he growled.
"Take mine." She pushed the Pilot G2 across the table, careful not to smear it with residue from her potato chips.
Legolas made a noise that Ivy assumed passed for thanks. He returned to taking notes, only to pause once more.
"I have others if it stopped working," Ivy reassured.
"It is working." He turned the pen around and around as though it were some alien being between his fingers. "This isn't ink. What is it?"
"A gel pen."
"A...gelatin pen?"
"More like jelly, though it's spelled g-e-l."
"I don't understand. Is this yet another thing the world invented while I was away?"
He sounded irritated. Is he irritated because the inventions have left him behind, or does he get snarky whenever he doesn't understand something? Either way, from the annoyed look he was giving her, Ivy knew she'd better start talking.
She picked up his now-useless fountain pen and screwed the nib back on, hoping to distract him from glowering at her to watching her hands. It's easier to talk when you're not looking at me like that.
"If I remember correctly, dip pens and fountain pens use inks that are dye solutions mixed with a water or shellac-based solvent. Water makes non-waterproof ink; shellac makes it waterproof. Ball-point ink uses paste ink mixed with a dye solution in an alcohol solvent. And gel-pen ink uses actual pigment suspended in a water-based gel."
Legolas was staring at her again. His blue eyes were intense, and he said not a word.
Ivy carefully set down the fountain pen, stared at the writing pad, and tried not to squirm. She knew she was blushing, she could feel her face heating up. "You asked."
"You have made a study of inks?"
Her temper flared at the skepticism in his tone. "Artists have to study all sorts of pigments. Some of us even like to play with gel pens because the colors are very bright, and they can be used on dark paper. They're clean and smooth and disposable. I'm sorry if I sound like a commercial, but you should try something before you sneer at it. Or at me."
"You are an artist?"
"I didn't kill myself with student loans and spend six years of my life getting a masters degree in tinker-toys, okay?"
Legolas' blue eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "I have no idea what you have done with your life, Queen's Daughter. If you recall, I met you only yesterday. "
"If you recall, you're the one who asked what kind of ink's in that pen."
"I didn't expect a dissertation."
"I didn't dissert, I answered your question. I know you don't believe me, but I'm not lying. If I don't know something, I'll say so, not make something up."
He glowered at her, and Ivy glowered right back, regardless part of her was horrified she was daring to challenge him and wanted to back down immediately. I will not!
Legolas was gripping the gel pen so hard, Ivy thought it might splinter in his grip. It'd serve him right if he got ink all over his beautiful fingers. Betcha his elderberry soap wouldn't get that off.
"Ivy." The Elf exhaled hard. "I meant no offense, and I am under a great deal of pressure at the moment. I am being bombarded by a vast amount of new information and must do my best to absorb it over the next few hours. The world around me is filled with new things I have never before experienced."
"You asked about the damn pen!" Ivy insisted. "Are you trying to blame me for everything new in your world now?"
"No. I am asking for a bit of patience and understanding on your part."
"Fine. You've got it. Whatever." She stared anywhere in the cabin but at him.
"Whatever? What does that mean?"
"It means what it means. Whatever you want, however you want it."
Another chewed-gravel oath from the Elf. "Bloody hell, it's just ink!"
"It isn't just ink." Much to Ivy's her dismay, she felt on the edge of tears. I will NOT cry in front of him. I will NOT give him that satisfaction! "It's a point of honor now."
Tilting his head, Legolas considered her words. "How has it become so?"
"My mother thinks the stuff I know about art is useless, and I can't help but feel you're thinking the same. I know you're under stress, and I'm sorry. Do you think I'm not feeling the pressure, too? I've just found out Elves are real and that I'm immortal, but I can't ask you questions about anything because you're studying for some important thing at the meeting. Haldir is supposed to tell everything when we get to this strange place I've never been to before, and...and I'm trying to help any way I can and not get on your bad side, but...but whatever! Look, you do what you need to do, and so will I. Your stupid meeting will come and go, and then I'll go, and...let's just use the pen and forget about it, okay?"
Looking away, she blinked back tears. "It's not worth the argument. You have better stuff to worry about."
"I see." Glancing down, Legolas drew slow circles with the pen. "It is a fine pen. Thank you for explaining to me how it works."
"Anytime." I will not cry.
"Perhaps Greenwood should look into investing in them," Legolas said softly.
She swiped away an errant tear. Is he trying to be nice now? What, does nobody challenge his more arrogant assumptions? I may be an infant to him, but I'm not stupid, and I'm not falling for it. She didn't say anything.
Legolas held his hand out across the table. "Please forgive me, Ivy MacLeod? It was not my intent to hurt you or question your honor."
It sounded like a formal apology. Glancing from the Elf's hand to his face, Ivy felt bewildered, but knew he expected a response. I don't get what he's doing now.
"It's okay. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that." She put her hand in his, thinking to shake on it, but Legolas closed his fingers instead and laid his other hand atop hers.
"Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me." He sounded sincere, and he was half-smiling, as if he were every bit as uncertain as she was.
Oh, damn. That smile will get him anything he wants. "You did ask."
"I know I did." His dimples deepened, but there was no mockery in his eyes. "Forgive me?"
"Yeah, okay. I guess so."
A final squeeze of her hand and Legolas returned to his work. Her fingers tingled where they'd been tangled with his. Settling back, she felt more than a little confused about the argument they'd just had. Haldir's faxes forgotten, Ivy stared at the Elf as openly as she dared. He's certainly more than a little odd.
The monotonous sound of the plane engines as well as the escalating warmth of the cabin coaxed her into closing her eyes. What would it hurt if she fell asleep? Legolas certainly didn't need her to stay awake.