At the Edge of Lasg'len

by AnnEllspethRaven

A Thranduil story like you've never seen, set in modern day Ireland. As of Chapter 11, co-author Spamberguesa joins me in co-authoring this story. We both hope you enjoy this non-canonical adventure :-) Our story is published primarily on An Archive of Our Own, same username...NEW CONTENT IS ALWAYS RELEASED FIRST ON AO3!

37. Chapter 37

At the bakery the next morning, Lorna got her usual pastries and tried a new coffee (chocolate cappuccino with extra foam and whipped cream, the addition of which actually made the barista twitch a little - and as ever, she'd had to convey her order through writing, since none of the damn employees understood her accent) and for the first time paused when she passed the basket of newspapers. The headline arrested her where she stood:

"Amazons Take Revenge in Central Park."

No. No. Hardly daring to believe what she was seeing, she gleefully snatched one up and brought it back to the table with her. She barely managed to avoid setting her cup right on Thanadir's plate (his disturbingly full plate. His appetite seemed worryingly muted this morning.)

Her eyes darted over the article, following it to its continuation on a further page. She looked at Earlene, and at Thanadir, and pinched her leg really, really hard. What had happened last night was not funny in the least, but this article…

Thranduil, those muggers thought Thanadir was a woman, she said, unable to speak aloud just yet. She was shaking from her attempt to stifle her laughter, and she wasn't going to be able to manage it much longer. Help me. This isn't funny, it's not, except it totally is, and if you don't help me I'm going to die laughing.

Earlene looked at the permutations of Lorna's face as she chewed her croissant and frowned, until her eyes drifted onto the headline also. Inhaling sharply, a flake of pastry immediately flew down the wrong pipe, causing her to race outside so she could cough and splutter without being a spectacle. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to clear her windpipe with rasping coughs that would probably earn her suspicion as a TB patient. In her experience, it was always better to cause a scene out on the sidewalk than in an enclosed building. Always. Oh HELL no, was all she could think, concerning the headline. Thanadir appeared alongside her in a flash, turning her toward him, and placing his hand on her back. In a matter of seconds she no longer felt the horrid sensation...how did they DO that? she wondered. Her composure regained, she thanked him profusely, and they returned inside. Without hesitation she purchased two papers, reasoning that Lorna might not have known to pay for the first one, and returned to her seat and the newspaper. Her eyes were riveted and wide as saucers.

"An attempted assault on two joggers went terribly wrong for the criminals last night at Bethesda Terrace in Central Park", the article declared.

"They were Amazons," raved one of the criminals-turned-victim at police. News of the violent acts of self-defense spread throughout the Park's homeless community; had the assaults succeeded, it would have marked the Park's tenth violent crime this year.

NYPD apprehended and arrested two incapacitated males late last night after the pair admitted to assault and attempted robbery. Authorities believe they may be the same individuals responsible for a recent spate of violent crimes in city parks. It was the second time in only three days that nighttime attacks on women were reported.

Michael Thain, 30, and Devin Matthews, 27, are paroled offenders who have served sentences for numerous crimes and violations. But on this occasion, the evening did not go according to plan.

NYPD called emergency medical workers to the scene. Both men were transported to area hospitals for their injuries, where both confessed to an attempted robbery of two female joggers. Matthews had been pepper-sprayed and was the recipient of multiple kicks to the groin region by the unknown woman or women, who defended themselves vigorously. Thain reported being hoisted, choked, and disarmed by 'an Amazon that broke his arm' before he lost consciousness.

Matthews was found by NYPD rolling in pain on the pavement and Thain was barely coherent; both men were screaming 'protect us' and 'they were Amazons!'

Thain will face additional charges for being a convicted felon in possession of a firearm. A handgun with fingerprints matching Thain's was recovered from the scene. Drug paraphernalia and methamphetamine were also recovered from both men; the results of toxicology screening are pending.

A hospital worker who insisted on anonymity stated that injuries to both men included 'serious damage in the form of rupture to the male genitalia.' "

No victims have as of yet come forward to report the assaults. NYPD is asking for any witnesses to please contact Detective Sabean at (718) 233-4578."

Lorna, still pinching her thigh, shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. The fact that Earlene had ruptured both their bollocks made her feel rather better about not hunting the pair down last night, but they thought...they thought Thanadir was a woman. Okay, he had long hair, and he was a slender sort, so she supposed he could be mistaken for a very tall woman in the dark - but only by someone on drugs. He didn't exactly have a woman's figure. (Then again, neither did she, but still…)

Thranduil looked at his wife with an arched eyebrow; her return expression was somewhat dour.

This was the best possible outcome, Hîr vuin, but I would rather that nothing of the sort had happened.

They brought this on themselves, meluieg. What was done was necessary, and now these men can face the consequences of your laws.

I barely know how to thank Thanadir.

He knows of your appreciation, Earlene. To see you safe, he would do that and much more.

Earlene took her husband's hand, and surveyed the untouched pastries still on Thanadir's plate. The bakery staff shot disappointed glances his way from time to time. She'd seen a piece of paper passed around, and wondered if they had made a betting pool centered around the seneschal's appetite. "Cian, you are not hungry this morning?" she asked kindly.

Thanadir looked up sheepishly from his chocolate cappuccino, which seemed to be his favorite coffee. "I think the...Nonna...did something to me, Earlene. I still feel full from last night."

Earlene patted his hand in sympathy and helped herself to one of the uneaten baked goods while her phone chimed with a text message. "I understand. I am only grateful that she did not also bring you dessert. We can save these for later. Today we will go first to another museum." She frowned. "Your tuxedos for tomorrow night have arrived at the concierge. Now I have two reasons to return to our room for a moment. If you will excuse me, this will take only a few minutes." She stood to leave, swiftly procuring a bag for the treats, and Thranduil rose with her.

"We will both be back momentarily."

Neither Lorna nor Thanadir seemed to mind, as they were both now occupied in the newspapers.

The tuxedos were indeed there. Earlene had a mind that these would need to be tried on before they went to the theater in the mid-afternoon; if any alterations were needed, Gino needed enough time to manage that but the odds of this being an issue were minimal. The genial old Italian tailor simply did not ever make mistakes. Thranduil insisted on carrying both garments, and his amorous demeanor in the elevator they had to themselves suggested that his reason for accompanying her had to do with more than acting the part of bellhop.

Once inside the door, all doubt vanished, as she felt his swollen masculinity pressing up against her. "I thought if I could be very quick, that you might indulge me?" he said, as he pressed kisses against her throat. It took little convincing, as she had yearned for him as well but had been held in check by the need to not cause Lorna or Thanadir discomfort. Thranduil chuckled. "You mean, Lorna. Thanadir would merely turn his back and ignore us."

"You're joking," she breathed as she undid his jeans, freeing him, at the same time she stepped out of her own capri pants, and just had the presence of mind to hang the Do Not Disturb placard and lock the door. The rest of the conversation had to wait a moment, but not much longer. Their lust was intense, and in what was perhaps a record for brevity they satisfied each other's wants for the time being, groaning as they each found release. In the tender aftermath of soft kisses, he explained. "I will confess that when Alassëa and I were newly wed, there was more than one instance of unseemliness that Thanadir had to endure from our eagerness. And while I now look back on our behavior and shake my head, it taught me that he can and will do just as I said, and take no offense. He views the marital act as another way in which I find happiness, nothing more or less."

Earlene snatched up her pants, disappearing into the bathroom to both ease nature and reassemble herself. "You elves are remarkable. It is hardly possible for people to hear or see such...activity...without becoming either offended or aroused. Were it not the case, there would be no porn industry."

This caused Thranduil to recall something. "Lorna told me once that I should ask you what a 'porn star' is," he said as he pulled on his trousers.

Earlene rolled her eyes. Why am I not surprised? "They are film actors, but 'porn' means, films in which adults have sex with each other. There is only rarely any kind of plot or story. It is watched to arouse and facilitate sexual fantasy, most often for males who are not partnered. But really there is no clear description for who watches it or finds it appealing. I will confess to having seen some, in order to satisfy curiosity and to try and learn a thing or two but…" she dropped off in mid-sentence.

"But what?" His curiosity was piqued.

"But what is shown is almost always sex in the absence of love, and I believe that much of it does not reflect what a healthy couple would want of each other. Especially, it seems like it teaches men to use women for gratification more than how to treat their partners as individuals. Maybe it is just my perception." She laughed. "Besides, with you, I hardly have much motivation to seek that out. You have kept me very fulfilled, in this way. And that being said, we should return before our dalliance here becomes too obvious," she teased, with one final tasting of his soft lips and a sigh. This vacation was very nice, but it was the least they'd made love since coming together. Soon we will be home, she thought, with a smile.

They took the elevator down. "I meant to thank you again for last night," he said. "About the wine, I mean. What I could not tell you is how upset Lorna was, and that it was necessary to allow her to vent her frustrations with alcohol or find some way to prevent mischief while she went out looking for those you and Thanadir encountered. I felt the alcohol was the lesser of two evils, however great the indignity to the wine bottle and the hotel towel."

"Well, that's not good," Earlene frowned. "I know that she responds...differently, than I would, to many things. But especially here, you don't go looking for additional trouble. There are times I wonder if it would be better to just not tell her about things that are upsetting. While I hate to edit, it's better than worrying that the truth will provoke her into doing something unwise."

Thranduil looked at his wife. "I would ask you not to do that, meluieg, and to give me your trust. Lorna can, and will, learn to do better. But not if she is denied the opportunity. Not if her thinking is never challenged. I do not feel as though I can say more, without…"

Earlene reached up and placed her finger over his lips while her other arm circled his waist. "Even were your word not law to me, I have heard enough. I am not blind; you have your own friendship with her and I will not stand between you. I will do as you ask, and I do not require elaborations. That being said, thank you for explaining to me; at least it makes more sense now."

Thranduil returned her embrace, kissing the top of her head, and reflecting on what Lorna had told him yesterday. She had been right; of all the mortal minds he had encountered, none had been like Earlene. None whatsoever. How, indeed, had she been the one to come to him? Valar? It was much to consider.

Their absence had not been deemed excessive, apparently, as both Lorna and Thanadir were still reading the Times when they seated themselves. "Today we will be in the neighborhood, so I see no reason to carry lunch with us. We can go when everyone is ready."

Lorna had just about finished her coffee (and had to continually wipe off a rather impressive foam mustache before it grew ever more impressive). By now she'd mastered, more or less, her impulse to burst out laughing...so long as she didn't look at the paper. Still, though, how could a person mistake Thanadir for a woman? Yes, he was on the skinny side, and yes, he had fabulous hair, but he was also over six feet tall and entirely lacked anything remotely resembling tits. "I'm good," she said, nibbling the last of her pastry. Her bag was re-packed for the day, and without sandwiches, she'd be able to fit more things in it. She intended to get more souvenirs, dammit, and something less weird than the Statue of Liberty M&M's. She'd got Mairead a real, nice thing; now it was Ratiri's turn.

Earlene led them the few blocks over to the Museum of Modern Art, with a plan to let the suffer among the weirdnesses on the ground floor for awhile, then to take them upstairs to the masterpieces that were the royalty of art on the fourth floor. Then they could amble their way through the rest of it as much or little as they liked. She found that the contrast was just as effective as an art appreciation lecture. Honestly, some of the 'modern' art in here were pieces to which she'd never exactly reconciled herself. All the academic preaching in the world just didn't convince her that a vertical line on a canvas belonged in a museum.

Lorna looked around the room, uncertain what to expect from the name of the place. The interior of the building was mercifully cool, but some of its contents...what the hell was this? Yeah, all of it was bizarre, and she suspected there was some pretentious reason behind all of it, but this one...it was a canvas, taller than she was, painted cobalt blue, with the word OOF painted on it in huge, yellow letters. "This is art?" she demanded, offended on behalf of all actual art everywhere. "This is art? Are you fucking kidding me? All right, I'll accept most'v these have got some meaning behind them, but just...no. This isn't art, it's some twat fooling the world into thinking painting OOF on something is worth more than getting binned with extreme prejudice." It was a really, really good thing that she was probably unintelligible to most if not all of the other patrons, because she wasn't about to hold back. "Any kid with paint and a ruler could do that, and I'm betting the bloody thing's worth ten thousand dollars, isn't it?"

Earlene enjoyed Lorna's tirade because privately, she pretty much agreed. And while she didn't know the purchase price of this work, ten grand was just likely waaaay too conservative, given the donor list behind its acquisition. It was probably best to say nothing, and hope Lorna liked the Andy Warhol a little better. Then again, it was fun to foment dissent… "You shouldn't waste all your fuming on 'OOF', Lorna," she said, gesturing across to the next room. "Here is the marvel known formally as 'Equivalent V.' I want you to pay special attention to how this is two layers of firebrick, stacked in an orderly fashion. At gran's farm, Aidan and I made about a dozen of these. Red brick, fire brick, salvaged brick, burned bricks, cinder blocks, cinder pavers...get the idea? And yet stupid us, if we'd only had the brains to drive it down here, one of those piles could've probably paid for my first year's tuition at Columbia." She felt both satisfied and vaguely horrible as she watched Lorna's eyebrows shoot up into her fringe, as she stared at the thing. Too late, Earlene had a twinge of regret...hopefully Lorna wouldn't start re-stacking the bricks; she hadn't thought of that….with a visible glare at her, Thranduil chose just that moment to swoop in because he wanted to show Lorna something.

Meluieg, shame on you.

I was just entertaining myself.

We will discuss this later.

Yes, my Lord, she said silently, while her ear to ear grin spoke of a far different outcome.

"That's a patio," Lorna said flatly. "That's not art, it's a bloody patio." She paused, pained. "Earlene, for the love'v God, tell me they've not got period art here. Seriously. Tell me." Given some of the garbage she'd already seen, she wouldn't put it past this place.

Earlene frowned. "Most of the art here is period art….wait. Suddenly I don't think we have the same definition of that word. You don't...oh my god, you don't mean… No. Just, no. I think it's time we went to the fourth floor. Look, there's the stairs!" At the top, there was a lovely Andrew Wyeth that she enjoyed very much, 'Christina's World'.

Now see, this was what Lorna called proper art, because it actually took skill to produce. She could build a patio or paint OOF on a canvas; she could not, however, do this. "All right, I know there's always meaning behind a real painting, so what's behind this one? Is she paralyzed or something?"

"It says a little bit, on the description," Earlene said. "That woman was someone the artist knew, she'd had polio. So probably you're right, that she couldn't walk. He wanted to show how the woman overcame her condition. Down but not out, or something like that."

Lorna shivered a little. Gran had grown up long before the days of the polio vaccine, and had a few horror stories to tell. Big Jam's mam had had to go into hospital and get stuck in an iron lung for a while, because her lungs wouldn't work right.

Not far away was an artist she actually knew, and not just from Doctor Who. There had been a print of Starry Night in the prison library, and it had made her very curious about Van Gogh, and why he painted as he did. The theories that he was schizophrenic made, in Lorna's opinion, a lot of sense, the poor bloke - though there were, so she'd read, doubts about whether he'd been the one to cut his ear off or not. She actually had to tuck her hands behind her back to avoid reaching out and touching the paintings, because she was terribly curious as to what they would feel like. "You know," she said, "I read that a lot'v the Impressionists painted like they did because their eyesight was shite. They painted everything as they saw it, because for whatever reason, they didn't have glasses." She was pretty sure glasses had been expensive as hell back then, so a lot of people who needed them didn't have them. She was quite grateful that she'd reached forty and still didn't need them - but then, Gran had had close to perfect eyesight until the day she died, and she'd been 97.

Earlene definitely was not an art historian, but she tried to explain to the ellyn that up here were paintings that were famous and recognizable to most people, by artists whose names most everyone knew. And that some of the artworks were very, very valuable, which was why guards were everywhere to make sure no one touched them or did anything else they weren't supposed to. And how the different periods of art reflected different ideas, different ways of seeing the world. Unsurprisingly, they liked the Monets and Van Goghs more than the Picassos and Dalis ("Salvador Dali must've dropped a lot'v acid," was Lorna's observation)...but at least they got to see them, along with it a wide swath of what passed for western art. Plenty of people had seen a picture of 'Starry Night', but not so many were privileged to stand in front of the real deal.

Thranduil and Thanadir had said little, while at the museum. Lorna had taken a moment to inspect the gift shop, so the three of them waited for her in the cavernous entry area.

"What did you think?" she asked them.

Thranduil smiled down at her. "Aside from your shameless baiting of Lorna concerning the bricks, I found this enjoyable. Many things here are heartfelt, and moving to look upon."

Earlene's lips parted. He was apparently more serious about that incident than she had realized. "I ask your pardon," she said with humility, lowering her eyes. "I will not do that again." Apparently she was not allowed to have that particular kind of fun, but, she could take that in stride. She conceded, he knew more about Lorna, and likely had his reasons.

Thanadir witnessed this exchange, and his high opinion of Earlene continued to climb. He very much understood being the subject of this kind of rebuke, having received the same from his King more times than he could count. That she responded to Thranduil as he himself would gained his favor, though he knew that nothing about her actions had anything to do with him.

"You have it, meluieg," he said, brushing her cheek with his fingers in affection. That he could be so forthright with his mortal wife was something he was coming to appreciate a great deal. Satisfied that she was forgiven, Earlene turned her attention to Thanadir.

"And you, Cian? Did you like the museum?"

Thanadir turned his thoughts from wherever they were to focus on her question. A slight wrinkle to his youthful forehead was the only thing that betrayed this being a slightly difficult question to answer. "Humans are a complex and diverse group," he said. "The paintings seemed to be about so many different things, and some of them so obviously took a very long time to create. Some I would like to see again, others, I would not. What I take away with me is that the more I try to understand what defines mortals, the more it eludes me."

Well that is food for reflection, she thought. Did she have a sense of what defined elves? While she hadn't spent time pondering that, she had a feeling that it was an easier answer. And before this great philosophical matter could receive further attention, Lorna returned from the gift shop.

Lorna wasn't quite sure how she was going to carry an 11" by 13" mounted print, but whatever. They'd wrapped it well on top of the shrink wrap, shrouding it in paper and tying a string around it so she could hold it like her purse. She'd drop it off in their room - hell, maybe she'd try to hang it over Scary Bathroom Guy. It wasn't nearly big enough to cover him entirely, but better than nothing. "I knew some modern art could be bloody stupid, but that damn OOF picture takes the flipping cake. For anyone to take that seriously to begin with must'v involved witchcraft."

Back in their room, Earlene announced that it would be necessary for the ellyn to try on their tuxedos for tomorrow night. Please please please let them need no alterations, she thought. As their time here was winding down she was regretting this party invitation more and more, but there was no getting out of it short of all four of them getting the flu (beyond unlikely). After explaining a few details Thanadir might not have seen before, she turned her back though she did not need to, and left them to their devices. A few moments later, throat clearing caused her to turn back around. Holy Christ, they look good. It was an expansive effort, to keep her eyeballs in her head, but for Thanadir's sake she tried; Thranduil would know what she was thinking regardless. Which was, that if she had ever wanted to shove him onto a bed and fuck him senseless just based on appearance alone, now would be that time. Only the thinnest hint of a smile and arch of an eyebrow betrayed the degree to which this was pleasing the Elvenking. Trying to beat back the faint flush that she knew was creeping over her cheeks, she refused to look them in the eye and wrenched her mind onto what was important; that these fitted properly. They wore classic 'James Bond' type black tuxes with a twist; the lapels were in black satin and a different silk necktie had been provided for each. Thranduil's had black and silver diagonal pinstripes, and Thanadir's was of an impressionistic print with blacks, dark greys and muted burgundies. They would definitely not be out of place in any manner, tomorrow evening.

"I can find no fault with any aspect of these; I hope they are comfortable enough?"

Nods and smiles from both seemed to settle the matter.

Lorna had headed into the bathroom, for privacy reasons - hers more than theirs, given that they didn't seem to care who saw them without their togs on. She hadn't tried on her own dress since Thanadir altered it for her, and she wanted to make sure nothing had somehow gone wrong. It hadn't; the burgundy velvet was nice and smooth from hanging in the closet, the wrinkles having straightened themselves out (elf fabric, wtf, but she wasn't complaining). It was a kind of Empire waist, with a neckline bordered by a gold ribbon embroidered with suns. The sleeves were embroidered with gold vines, twining their way up her forearms - it was a lovely dress, and not too much for someone her height.

What she really needed to do was practice with that lovely comb, so practice she did, bringing it into a half-updo bun. The lower half she left loose, just because she could, and decided that she'd pass muster, once all was said and done. Still trying to work out how to move in a slightly longer dress without look or feeling like an eejit, she rapped on the door. "You two decent out there?"

"Yes," was Thranduil's amused and drawled response. "You may come out." She could have never bothered to have gone in there, but he knew this was Lorna. "Besides, your opinion is wanted."

The skirt on this thing was longer than she was used to, but mercifully, she could walk easily enough. She stuck her head out the door, and her eyebrows rose.

Privately, she'd wondered just how well tuxedos would work on the elves - after all, tuxedos were thoroughly modern garments. She needn't have worried, though; both of them carried it off a touch too well - possibly well enough that Earlene was going to spend the evening silently staking her claim against all the other women there, if the rich types even did that. "Swanky," she said, heading out and circling them both. "Props to your tailor, Earlene, but I wouldn't go leaving Thranduil or Thanadir for more than three seconds. I don't know if your sort actually grope each other, but you never know." She felt a tidbit ill saying that; while Thanadir hadn't reached Pat-status, he was still nevertheless someone she would never, ever think of like that. The thought of anyone else doing so was vaguely wrong.

Earlene was not certain how to respond to that, because she had never been to one of these parties with an escort to whom she was romantically attached. More or less she'd had a pact with Tim Browning from her office; they would meet up at these things together and between the two of them, fend off unwanted attention. Though few knew it, Tim was uninterested in women, whereas Earlene didn't want the hassle of anyone attempting to hit on her. So successfully had they kept up this ruse over the years that not a few idle gossips believed them to be in a well-hidden office romance. John Oehlert alone knew the truth aside from them, but that was the fabulous thing about John; he kept confidences utterly private.

"Well, it looks like we're set for tomorrow. We've about an hour to change again and get to our next destination. If no one is starving, I thought we'd find dinner afterward?"

Thanadir was first to say yes, which caused her to feel awful. Nonna ruined him, Earlene lamented privately. We won't even make it to Holey Cream at this rate. Aloud she said, "We're going to see a theater performance. So clothes that are on the nicer side would have us looking the least out of place," she offered.

Lorna's velvet tunic was still smooth, since she'd had the foresight to hang it up, and she had knee-length leggings that were slightly classier than shorts. "Somebody help me get this thing out'v my hair, will you? I'm afraid if I try to take it on my own, I'll break it." It had three strands of pearls that looped forward from the comb on either side of her head, hooking into her hair, and it seemed to be a lot older than it would have been if someone had given it to Ratiri's mother when it was new. She didn't even want to think about what it was actually worth.

"I've got it," Earlene said, her nimble fingers carefully working out the ornament. This was the first time she'd seen it up close. The weight and smithing of them immediately told her that these were not costume, and that they were, she guessed, upwards of 70 years old. She did not know Far Eastern jewelry well, but she was sure that this was at least 10 karat gold, if not 14, and there was a lot of gold on these. Even if it was the lower grade, they were still valuable for the precious metal alone, never mind the pearls. They were a beautiful gift, and she was so glad that Ratiri had given something this thoughtful and personal.

"Isn't it lovely?" Lorna asked. "Ratiri's mam, she came from a family that had money, and they weren't best pleased she was marrying some middle-class white bloke from Scotland. Still, her mam was an old battleaxe who wanted her only daughter to be happy, so they got a proper wedding in spite'v the rest'v her family, and she got sent to Scotland with all sorts'v presents so it wouldn't seem like another world to her."

Earlene tried to think if she had circumstance like it to compare. "My family was as pasty white as they come," she said. "But unlike many, they weren't bigots. I never heard a harsh word about anyone from other backgrounds. I give them credit for seeing past that. Dad was Irish, obviously, but mom was only half. So I'm actually a bit German. It was the running joke that maybe that's where my coloring is from, since an awful lot of the family looks more like Aidan. Seems like people love to pick on others for their differences, too often."

"I got picked on a bit at school," Lorna said, shaking out her hair. "If you were even vaguely brown at that point, people looked at you weird, but it was never too bad. There were four'v us, and we looked out for each other: if you fucked with one Donovan, all four came down on your head like the fist'v an angry, drunken god. Kept the worst'v it at bay. I didn't care if someone called me Pikey, though I'd thump them if they called Mick that. He was so much more sensitive than the rest'v us."

Earlene raised her eyebrows. This, perhaps, explained a few things. She'd never had any occasion to have to have a...what did you even call that...pack mentality? Because in her world, with the exception of her brother, people were fundamentally decent. And for Aidan, dad and mom were quick to come down on the worst of his shite, especially when she was younger. There had never been any need to think this way. She sighed, remembering what Thranduil had asked of her, and felt vaguely ashamed. It wasn't intentional, that she'd lost sight of their different backgrounds, but, she had. Handing Lorna's comb back to her with a kind smile, she excused herself to hunt up some clothes, and retreated into the bathroom. For a moment, she stood, looking at herself in the mirror, before her heart lurched to see she was not alone. "You're going to kill me one day, coming in like that so silently," she gently reproached her husband. "The human heart isn't built for being startled like that."

Thranduil smiled. "And yet I will not allow yours, which is perfectly healthy, to fail," he said. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For being who you are, meluieg. For your love, your compassion, and for your willingness to follow my direction."

"You are welcome, but aren't you praising me only for doing what is expected? I believe I agreed, especially to that last part," she teased.

She received no reply other than a kiss, a suggestive bite to her lower lip, and a smile. Sighing and shaking her head, she changed her clothing.

Lorna, shaking out her tunic, carried it and her half-leggings into the bathroom, and nearly screamed blue murder when she realized Thranduil was in there, too. When Earlene followed after she shooed him out, she changed as fast as she could, throwing her hair back into a braid and carefully laying the comb in its flat wooden box. The box went back into the hotel room safe, because she didn't care if everything else somehow got nicked, so long as that stayed safe.

They retraced their steps nearly to the restaurant of last night, with Thanadir darting worried expressions at whether he was secretly being taken back to face Nonna again. Taking his arm and patting it, she deliberately led them further down Seventh Avenue before turning off toward the Majestic Theater. "Phantom of the Opera" seemed like a safe and romantic choice (but not too romantic), and certainly was nowhere near what had begun to be thought of in her mind as Hedwig Level. She would have to watch it again at home, alone, even if it meant sneaking off with her laptop and earbuds to a dark corner of The Spotted Dick. Her enjoyment of it had been compromised, and needed rescuing.

They found themselves again in a lovely theater, and looked around appreciatively. "What is this about, Earlene?" Thanadir asked, curious.

"This is a musical. Not at all like Hedwig," she hurriedly added, "but alike in the sense that it tells a theatrical story, both in words and in music. It is about a young woman who is alone in the world, who works as a dancer at an opera house in Paris. The setting is something over a hundred years ago in history. All sorts of things happen to her, when two different men become romantically interested in her, and one of those men carries a dark secret. As you can see the name of it is "The Phantom of the Opera."

"Phantom…?" he said, with a hint of confusion, and then she understood.

"A ghost, a spectre...a faded presence, for lack of better words?"

That word, he knew very well. He nodded, and took his seat.

This was one Lorna knew very well. Mairead was a big fan of West End and Broadway musicals, and had loads of soundtracks. As much of a creep as the Phantom was, she couldn't help but feel rather sorry for him, the poor bastard. Yeah, he did some reprehensible shite, but he was so hideous he didn't dare show his face. That had to fuck a person up. And Raoul...he was just a gobshite. Pushy didn't do him justice.

Still, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, too, in the prologue, given how old and broken he was. And the effect, when the chandelier was lifted and the opera house returned to glory, was staggeringly well-done for a stage production. It actually made her shiver a bit.

Earlene knew this musical backwards and forwards, and this was an excuse to enjoy it again; the music in it was brilliant and had enough classical-like elements to hold her interest. Of course now that she thought about it, maybe it was a little uncomfortable, too. There were echoes of how she came to be wed, in here, though in her eyes she'd gotten a better outcome, by far. But using seduction as a tool of manipulation? Oh yes, that chapter was covered in depth. Aaaand maybe she should think about something else, like how incredible the staging was, and was that an upgraded chandelier?

Thranduil's arm came around her, and his head leaned down to touch hers. They both knew, their beginning could not be undone. Nothing changes that I love you, meluieg.

I know. She leaned into his hold, glad to be there, however infamously it had all begun.

Perhaps mercifully, Lorna was too entranced to make that unsettling comparison. She had never been to a live show until the ballet, and this was quite different from ballet. That Carlotta was a twat, though; any performer worth their salt went on come hell or high water. Poor Christine...she was a precious cinnamon roll, too pure for the world, and deserved better than the two men she'd attracted. A sociopath and a gobshite...every girl's dream. Except, you know, not. But that she, at her age, had believed in an 'Angel of Music', as opposed to insanity or a potential stalker...well. Some people were just naive, and the girl was an orphan.

And as creepy as the Phantom was, the set and scene when he took Christine underground left Lorna wide-eyed with delight. It was spooky and beautiful, and whoever had first blocked it out was a genius. Candles and music and mist, oh my.

Earlene was transfixed...whoever the singers were, they were that good. And she'd heard more than one, in this role. The soprano was flawless, and believable in her role as a young woman. And the guy singing the Phantom...um, Jesus. Sex in a bottle, just like he needed to be. Glancing over at the seneschal, she smiled. I hope, later on, it will be workable to take him to see movies, movies on the big screen. She now wanted him to see the best ones, with all the enticement a real theater had to offer. Hm. Of all the activities on this trip, simply going to see a movie had not crossed her radar...but just any movie wouldn't do. This would require some thought...though, Alice in Wonderland already came to mind...

A light brush of fingers on her cheek helped steady her busy thoughts, especially since her brain was probably drowning out the singers in Thranduil's ears. I am sorry, she sent. She managed to refocus her attention for all the many scenes. There was intermission, and then her favorite one of all...the Masquerade. This, in her mind, was the pinnacle of the production, not only for musical complexity but also for the show-stopping wardrobe. Probably the highlight of her time was going to be the memory of Thanadir's face when the gorgeous dresses and masks, waistcoats and realistic animal costumes were all trotted onstage at once. When he was completely entranced, his lips parted and his entire face relaxed and it melted her heart to see this.

Just like with the ballet, this was a really good production.

Lorna found herself following the song, mouthing the lyrics while the dancers spun, until the Red Death made his appearance. How the actor could move in that mask and not run into anyone or anything, she didn't know. Don Juan Triumphant...talk about a pompous bloody title. Not just a sociopath, but a pretentious one, and yet she still found him less obnoxious than Raoul. Poor Christine. Alas, this was not like Repo! The Genetic Opera or The Rocky Horror Picture Show; audience participation was not encouraged. (And she was, sooner or later, showing both movies to the elves...though not at the same time. Nowhere near the same time. Just...no.) While this Phantom sounded like sin personified (where had they found this performer? He was phenomenal), she still didn't think he was as good as Graverobber in Repo!

All too soon, the final strains of music played, and the rose was left behind. Enthusiastic cries of "Bravo!" echoed all around, and Earlene glanced at Thanadir once again, to see that another lone tear rolled down his cheek. She did not care, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Meldir," she said, patting him on the arm. Did Thranduil have any idea how special his seneschal was? Of course he did, but...still. She was quickly distracted by a kiss to her own cheek, as she looked up into the sparkling eyes of her husband, their blue muted and changed in the still-dim lighting. I will kiss your cheek too, if you help me a little, she said mischievously. His extra inches of height made that a challenge. She felt his lips instead, but that was hardly a problem. They applauded along with the rest, and a good time had been had by all.

That had been bloody brilliant. Lorna could see, now, why Mairead was so in love with musicals; her sister had actually been to a few in the West End, and seeing them live was so much better than just listening to a soundtrack. She didn't at all mind that her arse had gone to sleep, sitting in that lovely comfy chair; they had a bit before it would be their turn to file out. "I didn't realize it'd be like that, seeing it on a stage," she said. "Or hearing it." Mairead had a grand sound system, but nothing compared to a live performance.

But now she was hungry, and hoped Thanadir's appetite had returned at least somewhat. She needed to eat and digest all she'd just seen, the beauty and the sheer scope of it. She'd never given live theater a great deal of thought one way or the other, but now...Jesus.

Earlene leaned in as they waited their turn to leave. "So there are multiple choices but I was thinking Mexican, Greek, or Afghani. Any input? I thought we owed Thanadir an ethnicity where nothing like a Nonna could possibly appear."

Lorna didn't want to point out an an Abuela might be just as dangerous as a Nonna, because she really wanted Mexican. She'd never had proper Mexican food; the average Irish stomach couldn't handle spicy foods, so even true Spanish dishes weren't a thing. They were all the watered-down sort that contained maybe half a pinch of anything discernibly spicy. "I vote Mexican," she said. "We can always get Greek back home, and I'm not even sure what Afghani food is. I'm not feeling that adventurous."

Earlene knew that the ellyn would not know up from down about any of her proposed choices. And, she should be able to steer them away from anything too risky. "Then Mexican it is," she said. "We will walk over to Hell's Kitchen, there is a great place by 54th Street."

Lorna used the walk as an excuse to stretch a bit, pleased that today wasn't nearly as oppressive, heat and humidity-wise. Still warm by her standards, but it was rather nice. Humming under her breath, she eyed the city, still feeling so very small within it. But then, she was fairly certain everyone felt a least a little small - possibly even the elves. With so many people here, how could you not?

And yet she found she missed Ratiri immensely. Sending him emails full of the weird and wonderful shite they'd done wasn't the same as talking to him, and they were banjaxed by the time zone differences.

"Meluieg, is not 'Hell' a religious word for a bad place in the afterlife? Why is this area called 'Hell's Kitchen'? That seems like a terribly unattractive designation, for a part of a city."

Breaking into laughter, Earlene choked out a reply. "It is. And you ask a good question; there is still no agreement as to why it has that name, exactly. But all of the answers given will reflect on the fact that at one time, this area was awful. It was working-class Irish for much of its history, poor, and violence ran unchecked here. Everything changed beginning about forty years ago, so of course I have no perspective on what it once was. The one I like the best was said by Davy Crockett, an American frontiersman. He said, in so many words, that the Irish were so awful that they were too mean to clean Hell's Kitchen."

Lorna burst out laughing. "Well, we'd take that as a compliment," she said.

Ushered in, they all found themselves seated and handed menus that only Earlene had a prayer of understanding. The waiter looked all too eager to mansplain it all for them, and seemed vaguely disappointed when she had no intention of asking him to clarify the offerings. She ordered different house margaritas for all of them, on the rocks, and had all but hers upgraded to a grande size. Lorna would either love or hate tequila, and this was the benign way to test the waters. "Pick what you'd like, or if your brain freezes I'm happy to do what we did last night with, uh, less food."

Lorna eyed the menu, spoiled for choice. She'd never actually had lobster before, so why not. "Can I get the Langosta?" she asked, looking up at the waiter - who, naturally, looked down at her with polite incomprehension. Her accent was probably mangling even the name of the dish beyond recognition. Holding the menu out, she pointed, and comprehension dawned.

"Yes, yes." He turned to Earlene. "Does your friend have a hard time here, needing a translator? My abuela, she understands, but she cannot speak, too."

Lorna didn't even bother to stop herself facepalming.

Earlene looked up at him with her sweetest expression, and spoke. "Ella está hablando inglés." My friend, your tip just went down at least seven percent. The look on his face transformed from confident smugness to embarrassment and confusion. "We are Irish," Earlene explained further. "This used to be an Irish part of town." And then she continued to breezily order four entrees ranging from sea bass to the chicken borrachos, plus two more orders of tacos different than what Lorna had asked for, because no one should have been to Mexican without having had at least one (and these were small). She should not admit to herself how much she was enjoying the waiter's defeated expression, but, dammit, she really was. All those lunches with her Hispanic friend at the office, who had taught her flawless pronunciation plus some basic phrases, had just paid off in dividends. Maria would be very, very pleased.

"I knew that'd happen sooner or later," Lorna sighed. "I just knew it. D'you have any idea how lucky I counted myself, that you lot could understand me without resorting to bloody sign language?" Yeah, Thranduil had the telepathy, so her verbal speech wouldn't have mattered either way, but Earlene and Thanadir had not, to her knowledge, had much trouble at all when she kept it muted. "Christ, even when I first moved to Baile people had an issue sometimes. You should've heard me trying to deal with customers at Jamie's."

Earlene frowned. "I never thought you were that hard to understand. I mean, when you go off into Irish yeah, I can only get that I'm probably hearing cussing. It's funny because I always figured I'd be the one no one would hear right; I must sound like a complete...American. The only thing I can say in my defense is, at least I'm not from the south. They really do sound completely different, down there."

Thranduil watched all of this with interest and amusement, and then their drinks arrived. Privately, he thought that the beverage was close to the size of Lorna's head. For fun Earlene had switched up the flavors. Thanadir had watermelon, Thranduil the traditional lime, and Lorna got guava. After they all were done seeming alarmed, they cautiously leaned forward and tried them. At least the elves seemed to not be repulsed. Earlene now looked at Lorna. "You can all trade off, if you'd like, the fruit juices are different."

Guava, Lorna discovered, was sweet, but not overly sweet. She did a bit more than 'try', though; ignoring the straw, she took what was at least a fairly restrained drink. Jesus, she could have the whole thing on her own, but she dutifully passed it onward, setting it before Thanadir's plate.

The elves and Lorna passed their glasses until the round was made, after which Thranduil declared, "I like best the one I originally had. It is not so sweet." Earlene arched her eyebrow. That left Thanadir and Lorna to pronounce judgement on watermelon and guava.

"Christ, I like them both, but I think the guava's my favorite. If we've got that in Ireland, I've never heard'v it," Lorna said, intending to look into it once they were home. By the time the drinks had fully made their rounds, she was feeling quite at one with the world, and possibly even very slightly buzzed. That was some potent damn tequila, if it could do that to her so soon.

"I like my watermelon," Thanadir said. "What is a watermelon? What are any of these fruits?"

Valid question, she thought. Bringing out her phone, she soon had photos of the three to show him. "Honestly the only one half typical to this area is watermelon, and only in the summertime. But I think you may have seen where Mexico is, on a map? It is much warmer there, and all these fruits are very common."

The waiter now appeared with their plates, and the smells were enticing. He seemed only mildly perturbed by their intention to share plates, to which Earlene sincerely believed that he needed to get out more often. Much more often. But best of all, after having had a brief rest, Thanadir's enthusiasm for food seemed to be renewing. "These are flavors which might be unusual to you, and sometimes this cuisine can be spicy hot. I tried to choose foods that would not be too strong." The nodding of heads and the steady eating seemed to mean that her choices were decent, and the food really was delicious. Because there had been no real cause for complaint, the poor man's tip was restored to being within an anticipated range, and soon they left. Now, for the moment of truth. "Can I interest anyone in dessert?" she asked. "There's a really fun place, right nearby."

Thanadir immediately looked nervously optimistic. Victory! thought Earlene. But so much better, if Lorna jumped on board, too.

"Donuts?" Lorna asked. "Sign me up." She was going to gain ten pounds on this trip, but oh well. This was a city of amazingly tasty food, and she wasn't about to deny herself - plus, they'd done so damn much walking that she needed to keep her calorie count up anyway. At least, that was her excuse.

Earlene took Thranduil's hand. For what I am about to do, forgive me, she sent. The King chuckled and shook his head. He did not seem too upset, but neither had he laid eyes on this...quite….yet. Rounding the corner, they approached Holey Cream, where 'all the fat and twice the sugar' was not merely a saying. They came to the storefront, and she explained. "This is a dessert establishment that specializes in combining donuts and ice cream. Or cupcakes and ice cream. And toppings. And any imaginable form of sugary thing with every conceivable form of fattening sugary thing. I personally recommend the donut and ice cream sandwich, but don't let my lack of imagination slow you down."

Thranduil looked at the display cases and his lips parted, as he looked up at the menu, down at the donuts and cupcakes, and back up to the menu, and saw the other patrons filing out with their orders. By Eru, now I know why she said that.

Lorna wanted absolutely everything. Everything, starting with the Nutella donut , through the hot fudge sundae, past the Irish coffee ice cream and down through the sea-salt caramel. "Please, please tell me some'v these donuts'll keep overnight," she said, wondering if it would be too much of a hassle to have half this shop shipped back to Ireland. Probably.

"Donuts get weird after a day, but that depends on your level of personal determination, too." Earlene's hand flew over her mouth as she saw Thanadir approaching the donut display like a pilgrim arrived at a shrine. Somehow, somehow, the place was not crowded at the moment, so he could afford to do this without incurring anyone's ire. "Do you know what you would like?" she asked him encouragingly, even though his eyes clearly said 'the entire shop'.

"I like chocolate," he said, overwhelmed, "but I do not know what to do."

"Do you want me to order for you?"

The seneschal nodded.

"Donut sandwich, that chocolate cake donut with the chocolate glaze and chips, one scoop of Belgian chocolate chip ice cream, and the other scoop Midnight Cookies and Cream." And may the Valar help you eat it, she thought. For herself she picked the same, but chose ice cream flavors she suspected she and Thranduil both could share-sea salt caramel and pistachio on a vanilla glazed cake donut, because it was a foregone conclusion she could not possibly eat all of it herself.

Lorna, determined, managed to combine enunciation with her shitty handwriting and build her own sundae: Irish coffee ice cream, salted caramel, Nutella donut, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles, just...because. At least the cashier was patient when it came to her rather hellish accent, and the result was a cardboard carton half the size of her head, a mound of creamy deliciousness that she was probably going to regret later, but whatever. She clutched it like a child - hell, like Smeagol in Lord of the Rings - inordinately pleased.

They paid, and began ambling down the sidewalk on the still warm summer evening. Thranduil, who was more than content to have his share after his wife lost her battle with her dessert, realized that the best thing he could do would be to bring up the rear of their single file line so that no one crashed into a rubbish bin or otherwise became lost. To their credit, they did keep walking, though not perhaps as fast as some of the natives who passed them might have liked. Once they reached Times Square, though, all bets were off and they stood in an out of the way place, bunched together, with Thranduil ensuring any potential trouble remained at a distance while his charges ate themselves silly. What boggled him the most was that no fewer than eleven passers-by looked at the nutritional debacles with great envy, and asked for directions to the shop. After the third time, even he could say "796 Ninth Avenue" as though he lived here, and point the correct way. The Elvenking of Eryn Galen is now giving directions to donuts, he thought, and had to pinch the bridge of his nose on principle. Thanadir, to his partial astonishment, ate his entire dessert. Earlene consumed exactly two-thirds, carving her spoonsful out in an elegant way that left the remaining portion still visually attractive and in pristine condition. And Lorna….

Lorna worked her way through her carton with single-minded determination, unwilling to waste even a spoonful. She would utterly regret it later, especially on top of the Mexican food, but that was what Thranduil and his lovely, wonderful magical healing was for. She was gaining an ever greater appreciation for it on this trip, even if only for either annoyances like cramps, or the results of her own stupidity. Letting any of this go to waste would be a travesty, so she ate on, unaware that she had a tiny dollop of whipped cream on the end of her nose. Watching the screens, the lights, the foot traffic, the real traffic...strangely, a shiver passed through her, and she thought again of The Stand, and what had happened to Manhattan in the book. She definitely needed to not go to bed with indigestion, lest she have nasty dreams.

Earlene handed over her dessert to Thranduil, who held out his hand with an utterly amused look. He tasted the first bite, and almost hated to admit that he really liked the pistachio, whereas the salted caramel was only slightly sweeter than he preferred. Even the donut, if he avoided the glazed section, was half-enjoyable. They returned to their hotel room with eyes that were just as glazed as the donuts. Everyone but Thranduil wordlessly laid themselves down onto the layers of pillows, propped up, and stared into space, with an occasional soft moan. After ten minutes, Earlene fumbled for the remote, and turned on the television.

Lorna decided it was time to ditch the leggings for her sweats, so she hopped into the bathroom and swapped out her fancy clothes for her rather ratty ones, then broke out her laptop. She had another email to concoct for Ratiri, which included a picture Earlene had taken of her with her dessert from hell. "I don't think I'll eat another thing for the next five years," she said.

Earlene began flipping through movie choices but then stopped, rose up, and semi-discreetly ditched her clothes in favor of loose, baggy garments that she would not feel obligated to think about breathing in. While doing so she caught sight of her dress for tomorrow night and wondered if she should eat between now and then. The better question was whether eating was possible. With another grunt of discomfort, she laid down again.

And there it was. The Princess Bride. With a soft chuckle, she did not even ask, but went ahead and selected it.

"Yeeeessss," Lorna said, grinning. "I've always wanted to sword fight someone and say I'm not left-handed, except I actually am left-handed." She settled back against her pillows, snickering a little the grandfather pinched the kid's cheek (studiously not looking at Thanadir), and even more when the grandfather said, "When I was your age, television was called books." It was weird to think that that kid was around her age. Who the hell named their kid Buttercup, though? Yeah, she was blonde, but still. "Cary Elwes was a looker, but he sure did age weird."

Earlene took her wad of pillows and edged back against Thranduil, determined to be mildly mushy during this epic extravaganza. "Why is it always a Prince?" she muttered. "Sometimes it's a King." But she really didn't want a response to that.

"The first time I heard the name 'Humperdinck', I just about laughed myself sick," Lorna said. "I mean, really? Not exactly subtle, that."

We're watching The Princess Bride, she wrote Ratiri. These poor elves arent going to want to watch more movies ever again.

"We are but poor lost circus performers," she said, cackling, before returning to her email. "I can think of very few weaker lies."

I've attached a picture of this crazy bowl of ice cream. We went to this place called HOley Cream which had so many deserts it would take me a year to eat them all. I didnt get any pictures at Phantom of the Opera, though I took a couple of the theatre before everyone got seated. Thanadir especialy loved it.

Ugh. She realized she sounded utterly pathetic, but she didn't care. "Thranduil, my digestive system is going to make all of us very unhappy if you don't please put me out of my indigestional misery." She was pretty sure 'indigestional' wasn't actually a word, but whatever. "Please?" She could tell already there was a cauldron of nastiness brewing in her gut, and she was sure they would all prefer it if it didn't manage to unleash itself to the world via the power of fart. For all she knew, elves didn't fart. (It was one of the few questions she just wasn't going to ask, either. Ever.)

"There is nothing nearby, not for miles," Earlene said, grumbling only mildly inside of herself when Thranduil rose to help Lorna. It wasn't the helping Lorna part, it was that she'd just gotten over here (the beds were huge) and had remembered her first quote. Then again, the spectre of what 'indigestional misery' might reference could be something she'd thank him greatly for averting. He returned soon enough, and made up for his absence by setting aside his laptop and taking her into his arms so that she could watch the movie resting against him. Now she felt very happy.

"Thank you," Lorna sighed, beyond relieved. "You know, the way Vizzini says 'Unemployed, in Greenland?! has always cracked me up. Like somehow being in Greenland was shameful, not being unemployed."

"THOSE are the SHRIEKING EELS!" now Earlene was having more fun, especially when Thanadir actually gasped just when the eel was almost ready to bite Buttercup. God he is precious, she thought. Fortunately, no one but her likely noticed because Lorna was too busy making the shrieking eel noise.

"Here we go!" Earlene said. "I get Inigo….. 'That Vizzini, he can fuss.'" Lorna did not skip a beat.

Lorna cackled. "Fuss, fuss… I think he like to scream at us," she said.

"Probably he means no harm," Earlene said, while actually wiggling in Thranduil's arms from excitement. She ignored that she heard 'Eru, help me," from the peanut gallery.

"He's really very short on charm," Lorna snickered.

"You have a great gift for rhyme," Earlene said, gently poking Thranduil.

Lorna gave a vague but expansive gesture, fortunately not hitting Thanadir in the face. "Yes, yes, some of the time," she said, then, in a higher voice, "Enough'v that."

Earlene splayed out her hands. "Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?"

"If there are, we all be dead," Lorna said, nearly knocking her laptop off her lap as she shifted.

In stereo, and past caring, both women now ran on in duet: "No more rhymes now, I mean it!"

"Anybody want a peanut?" Lorna asked, and dissolved into helpless laughter.

Thanadir picked that exact moment to ask, "What is a peanut?" and Earlene lost it too. She had to reach over to pause the playback, because three minutes were necessary to regain speaking ability, by which time Thanadir had already rolled his eyes and Googled "peanut".

Taking advantage of the pause, Thranduil stole the remote from Earlene. "I fail to see why this dialogue is so funny," he said. "Can either of you explain, while still retaining the ability to breathe? Even your thoughts do not make sense." he complained.

His wife sat up and turned to him. "It's the Princess Bride. One of perhaps only a handful of perfect movies ever made, to which most of the dialogue is known and memorized and cherished. It would be wrong not to laugh, because it is funny."

That Lorna was nodding in vigorous agreement was not helping, so he relented and returned the remote.

Besides, it isn't like I'm reenacting the swordfight, Earlene reasoned. At least that would be an understandable cause for grouchiness. "What is the swordfight scene, and how do you reenact it?" the King asked aloud.

Oh now you've done it, Earlene thought, looking nervously over at Lorna. I hope the hotel room survives.

Lorna grinned. "The sword fight is brilliant," she said. "Inigo and the Dread Pirate Roberts have a sword fight despite the fact that they're kind'v figuring out they could be friends, if they weren't meant to be enemies." She hopped off the bed, rifling through the closet in search of something vaguely sword-like that also wouldn't actually break anything. For whatever reason, there were a few empty cardboard tubes at the back, too big to be for paper towels but too small to be wrapping paper of any sort. With a flourish, she presented one of them to Earlene, who immediately thought, natho nin, while realizing she had no choice. "You seem a decent fellow," Lorna said, in a truly horrendous attempt at a Spanish accent. "I hate to kill you."

Earlene sprang up onto the bed, only faintly groaning at her still bulging stomach. "You seem a decent fellow," she returned. "I hate to die."

"Begin," Lorna said, still in that awful accent. No doubt her wild attempts at cardboard swordsmanship would make the elves wince, but she was having way too much fun. "You are using Bonetti's defense against me, uh?"

"I thought it fitting, considering the terrain," Earlene said, now bouncing over to Thanadir and Lorna's bed in one leap.

"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro," Lorna said, springing up onto the mattress. She paused only long enough to set her laptop safely out of the way, where she couldn't step on it, and did her best not to trod on poor Thanadir, either.

"Naturally, but I find that Thibault cancels Capo Ferro, don't you?" Earlene whacked at Lorna's cardboard tube a few times gratuitously, hoping like hell she wasn't about to step on Thanadir.

Lorna dodged around the poor elf, barely. "Unless the enemy hasn't studied his Agrippa, which I have!" She gave Earlene's tube a few swats, for effect. "You are wonderful!"

Feeling her way with her toes, Earlene did her best to step to the other side of Thanadir, while saying, "Thank you, I've worked hard to become so."

"I admit it, you are better than I," Lorna confessed, taking a couple steps backward so the poor elf could have some breathing space.

"Then why are you smiling?" asked Earlene, feinting forward though her feet went nowhere.

"Because I know something you don't know," Lorna said, still smiling.

"And what is that?" Earlene queried dramatically.

"I," Lorna said, tossing the tube from her left hand to her right, "am not left-handed." Except that she was, and extremely so, so her already pathetic swordsmanship, if it could be called that, grew even worse.

"You're amazing!" quipped Earlene, bouncing backward off the bed to the floor and alighting softly (after checking that she could not possibly do something stupid like land in a trash can.)

"I ought to be, after twenty years," Lorna said, following her. Fortunately she had not had enough to drink to upset her balance, so she didn't stumble into Earlene or anything else.

Earlene edged around the foot of the bed not sure if she should admit how fun this was. It might beat how amusing her husband hopefully found this. "There is something I ought to tell you."

"Tell me," Lorna said, with a rather dramatic sweep of her arms, just barely blocking a blow from the cardboard weapon.

"I'm not left handed either," she said, tossing the cardboard tube to her other hand at the same time she leaped back up onto the bed. She was honestly amazed she caught the thing, it would have been just like her to drop it.

Lorna followed her. "Who are you?" she asked, her accent veering from half-assed Spanish into something vaguely Dutch.

"No one of consequence," she said, standing momentarily tall and looking as capable as she actually wasn't.

"I must know," Lorna said earnestly.

"Get used to disappointment", Earlene deadpanned.

Lorna shrugged. "Okay," she said, and redoubled her so-called 'attack'.

Earlene was not expecting this, having assumed that the last of the spoken dialogue would end their exchange. She dropped into a crouch, instinctively using the footwork she'd been taught to back away from Lorna, at which point she began to trip over Thanadir's legs (how this had not happened sooner, was perhaps the real miracle), only to find herself firmly caught before she could fall off the bed.

"Entertaining as that was, I believe it would be good to return to viewing the film," the seneschal said in that voice that meant, the fun was over. For emphasis, he extended his hand, silently asking for her cardboard tube before effortlessly carrying her back to her own bed and plunking her on the mattress. What Earlene did not see was that Thranduil was shaking with laughter. She mistook the scowl that came over Thanadir's face as being directed at her, and meekly reached for the remote without a hint of resistance. With a last huff of indignation directed at his King, he shrugged at Lorna as he returned to his former place. Secretly, he was pleased that Earlene had remembered her sword training, but he would not divulge that just now.

Oddly enough, they had just reached the Cliffs of Insanity, which meant that the real sword scene was only minutes away.

"Killjoy," Lorna muttered. "We hadn't even got to the best part." Rolling her eyes, she flopped back onto the bed, defiantly hanging onto her own cardboard weapon. "Once you've seen this scene, you'll see why we ought to'v finished it." In that moment Thanadir reminded her far too much of Mairead, a comparison she was quite sure he wouldn't appreciate. At all.

"MAWWAIGE," hollered Earlene, having regained her enthusiasm by then. "MAWWIAGE, iv whaa bwings us togevaaaaah, today." Laughing, she did have the presence of mind to say to Thranduil that this was not any kind of ordinary human wedding ceremony. This information did not stop him from snuggling closer against her.

Later, Prince Humperdinck onscreen said, "A technicality that will shortly be remedied. But first things first. To the death."

Lorna snickered. "No! To the pain." Her attempt at an English accent was every bit as awful as her attempt at a Spanish one.

Humperdink, again: "I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase."

Grinning, Lorna said, "I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon." She was too busy laughing through Humperdinck's next line about being insulted, but she managed her own. "It won't be the last. To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose."

"And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight," Humperdink intoned.

"I wasn't finished," Lorna declared. "The next thing you will lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."

"And then my ears, I understand, let's get on with it."

"Wrong!" Lorna said gleefully. "Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe

that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out "Dear God, what is that thing?" will echo in your perfect ears. That is what "to the pain" means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever." She paused. "D'you have any idea how often my gang and I tossed that one around? There's a reason I remember it so well," she cackled.

Thranduil's eyes widened. Not at the film dialogue, but at how much Lorna apparently would like to have an excuse to do those things to one she felt deserved it - specifically, last evening's muggers. He tried to think on his many, many experiences fighting, and for all he had killed he could not relate to this level of bloodlust outside of a pressing need to enter that frame of mind. He could honestly say that he had never sat home on his throne and fantasized about torturing orcs. Right now, there was nothing he could think of to say; he would have to reflect on this more.

Lorna, all oblivious, giggled her way through the rest of the movie, eventually tossing her cardboard tube back into the closet. "We should do that again, with Ratiri. He's more'v a nerd than he lets on to most, I'm sure he could quote it, too."

Thranduil held out his hand for the remote. Movies were fine, perhaps something else interesting was on? This one had been charming, for all the silliness. "This one, 'Apollo 13' is it good?" Enthusiastic nods from the women confirmed the choice, plus, there might be something to be learned here. He and Thanadir watched, but Lorna and Earlene fell asleep at various points in the film. There were many choices, and he and the seneschal stayed up rather late, enjoying the quiet activity.

"That's the Titanosaur," said Earlene. "They only just acquired it before I left New York. It was a big deal, no pun intended." Their cab ride to the Museum of Natural History had been spent with her trying to explain what sorts of things they would see, and that there would not be paintings. Or bricks.

"Jesus bloody Christ," Lorna said, staring up at it. Obviously, dinosaurs were enormous, but you just didn't get the full, true scope of it until you were standing in front of the skeleton of one. "Good thing we weren't around when they were, or we'd've all been breakfast." Had elves been around then? Just how old were they, as a species?

Thanadir and Thranduil stared at the skeletons and frowned. Then looked at each other, frowned some more, and kept on frowning. "We have never heard of anything like this. These. I have seen and fought many of the creatures of Morgoth but…

"If I may tease, these are so old that you are as young to them as we are to you. They lived before any kind of human life existed on this world. Or, er, any two-legged intelligent creatures. Not thousands of years ago, but hundreds of millions. Some of these are skeletons of herbivores; plant eaters. Others I imagine could have given dragons a run for their money. You can sort of tell by the teeth," she offered.

"Next Movie Night has to be Jurassic Park," Lorna said. "Some'v it's inaccurate because we've learned more since then, but it's a damn good movie, and somebody must'v sold their soul to the Special Effects gods, because it still looks shockingly good even today." She paused, and knew exactly, exactly what she had to get Ratiri. "If there's a gift shop here, I need to get something shaped like a velociraptor. I don't even know what, but...something."

"I think we should see the Planetarium show first; that will get really crowded later on," Earlene hinted. "We can come back and ogle the dinosaurs in greater detail. And I'm pretty sure the gift shop here will make you happy, Lorna," she smiled.

The Planetarium film was called Dark Universe, and promised to be an explanation of cutting-edge understanding of the history and composition of the universe, complete with astonishing graphics and NASA footage. Earlene bit her lip. They'd not discussed this topic, or anything like it. Did the ellyn know about anything beyond what they saw when they looked up at the night sky? Feeling remiss for not having prepared them for this branch of science in any manner, there was little she could do now; they were all in line.

Do not worry, meluieg, I am certain we will manage, Thranduil said.

I know you will manage, beloved. It is whether or not your frame of reference for your very existence is about to be given a rather large shove, or not, that concerned me. I feel bad for not thinking about this, but as we all know, I do not manage everything. She smiled and shrugged.

The film impressed the hell out of Earlene and Lorna. It was incredibly interesting, and educational. When they emerged, Earlene said, "I'm not so good with this kind of information; the math and the physics. I feel like I understand what they showed, but in half an hour I'll struggle to even tell you what dark matter is. Sure makes you wonder what we'll know in another hundred years, if we keep plugging along. Just, damn…"

The ellyn actually looked vaguely pale, which was saying quite a lot. Thanadir was the first to speak. "How could you know about all this? I did not understand until the movie last night that humans have gone up outside the planet. And to see so far away, so long ago. It is very difficult to accept that all this has been, and we did not know."

"You couldn't be expected to, now could you?" Lorna asked. "You lot, you've got some wonderful things that we just couldn't ever duplicate, but you'd no way'v knowing anything about technology - and there's still loads you don't know. Hell, there's loads I don't know." She shook her head. "Astronomy, though - that'd do anyone's head in, if they thought about it too much. Anyone but the astronomers themselves. You know we've got a space station floating around above Earth? The one they showed in the film? It's not got anything like Star Trek - we're still waaaaay behind that level'v technology - but it's an international thing, and it's got astronauts from all over the world, studying the effects space has on living things. Ohhh, and that gives me another idea for Movie Night - The Martian." So far as she'd read, the science behind that one was hard, not soft, and actually pretty damn accurate.

In a sense, she felt a bit sorry for the elves. Without actually trying, they'd automatically been superior to humans in pretty much everything for...well, forever. Finding out humans had so surpassed them in a couple ways must be kind of a shock, but she hoped it was a good one.

"I would very much like to learn more about these things," said Thanadir.

Earlene chuckled. "There are hours upon hours of excellent quality programs that will teach you. And then you will have the website for NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, which operates all the space telescopes that have allowed many of these discoveries to happen. For all that I don't remember what I've learned, I too enjoy this. Perhaps I can watch some of it with you," she grinned. "Did you watch it on TV, Lorna, when the Mars rovers landed in 2004? Our whole office had that up on computer screens, I will confess. It was very exciting, even to a bunch of lawyers."

Lorna grinned. "Liam and I did, yeah. We'd heard it was happening, so we actually got a hotel room rather than sleep in the van. Bloody early in the morning for us, but we just stayed up all night. Liam, he'd figured we'd be on our way to Mars ourselves by now. Neither one'v us knew a damn about spacecraft."

"Why would so many people care about that, meluieg? I do not understand."

Why did they care about it...it's a good question. "Well, for me anyway, even though I understand none of it and am not smart enough to have contributed anything but tax dollars, it was something people accomplished. Humans. And so in a way it felt like it was something all of us had managed. Something to be proud of."

"And you Lorna? Why did you do that?" The King looked genuinely interested in the answer.

"That's easy," she said. "We're a bunch'v greedy, cantankerous fuckers, but we somehow got our shite together enough, and were willing to give enough, to send something into space. Something that wasn't going to make a shitload'v money for anyone who worked on it - just something that was meant to learn and explore. All we're getting from it is knowledge, not some kind'v profit, and you'd be hard-pressed to find many out there who'd open their wallet for that, yet we did it. Restored my faith in humanity a bit. I've got to say, it gave me chills. Then Liam laughed, and poked me, and we got drunk."

"We had champagne in the lunch room. It didn't feel so awful, given that everyone there was working into the evening that day; this was hardly happening during normal business hours. In fact that night may have set a record for case productivity, at least until those balloon-thingys entered the Martian atmosphere."

"Martian?" asked Thanadir.

"Mars. Carnil", said Thranduil, using the Sindarin word he would understand.

"You have sent objects...to Carnil?" the seneschal asked, his eyes widening.

Earlene and Lorna nodded, feeling vaguely apologetic though they'd not had shite to do with it. The poor elf looked like his brain was about to liquefy. "Let's go see the exhibit about sea life," Earlene offered. "I heard there is a replica of a whale there now."

"I would like to learn more of that, Thranduil said," looking a little concerned for Thanadir himself...that wasn't usual.

Poor Thanadir… "We've got a really famous book about a whale," Lorna said, hoping to be a distraction. "Moby Dick. It's one'v those books you either love or hate. I've never tried to read it myself, though I've run across some damn odd analyses'v it." The most interesting had been that the book was actually somehow a representation of Ahab's desire to fuck a whale. She'd certainly never think about peg-legs the same way again. Ever.

They went to the Hall of Ocean Life, which they all enjoyed immensely. The life-size fiberglass blue whale did not disappoint. It caused Earlene to realize, she'd never been on a ship or on the ocean. Then again, gazing at the depiction of the giant squid and the sperm whale, she wondered if that was a bad thing. The sea was a big, mysterious place with plenty they didn't know about. Was it true they now knew more about outer space than the oceans? Museums always seemed to do this to her; she learned, and yet what she really learned was...how much she hadn't learned. And seeing it through the lens of the elves made it a little odder still.

The ocean unsettled Lorna for a number of reasons, and many of them had to do with reading too much H.P. Lovecraft while in prison. Sure, Cthulhu wasn't actually real, but on the other hand, what if he was? Between that and the more mundane, extant creatures like anglerfish and those tiny jellyfish in Australia that put you in horrible pain for like a month...the ocean could keep its mysteries. Really. Though she did adore penguins (and had seen a rather charmingly hilarious documentary about them, narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch, who apparently couldn't actually pronounce the word 'penguin'; he called them 'peng-wings', and his pronunciation just got worse the longer the documentary went on. Someone at the BBC no doubt thought they were clever, handing him that one).

There was another film to see, this time about living in the Arctic. While Earlene felt less optimistic about this, it was still a chance for the elves to see something about places she genuinely hoped they would never wish to visit. Because New York and Irish winters were the worst she intended to deal with, ever. And since she was going to be beached walrus pregnant for the next one, she just might not see the outdoors until it was over.

Given that there was little actual underwater footage, Lorna actually enjoyed the film, and of course seals. Baby seals were the cutest fucking things in the world, and she wanted one. Hell, she wanted five, but alas, inland Ireland was not their favorite habitat. They did actually turn up seasonally on the Irish coasts, but that didn't mean stealing one would be a good idea. Alas.

Earlene realized there were two other things the ellyn would really like, or so she hoped. "Come, Thranduil, this next part is for you," she said. "Or at least, I think you of all people will appreciate what is here." Taking his hand, she led them to the Hall of Gems. Earlene had to wait a few moments, and she struggled to blank out her thoughts so it could be a surprise, but she was able to victoriously park him in front of the Star of India, the most famed sapphire in the world. Something not in your vault, my Lord, she teased. Is in not beautiful?

The elvenking's eyes flared because by Eru, it was beautiful indeed. He had sapphires, but not to compare with this. So large, and so perfect...exquisite to behold. And yet he looked at his wife, carrying his unborn children, and knew which was more precious. He turned and kissed her on the side of her head. "It is beautiful, meluieg. And it pleases me to see it where so many can admire it."

Lorna's eyes widened. "Holy shit, it's that thing," she said. "I'd forgot it was here. I hope it's under better bloody security now."

"Do I detect a story?" Earlene asked, curious.

"A weird one," Lorna laughed. "That thing got stolen in 1964. The security here was absolute shite - dead batteries in the alarms, and they actually left all the windows cracked for ventilation. These two gobshites basically just walked right in and took it, along with a load'v other jewels. One'v them called himself Murf the Surf." She let that sink in for a moment. "Anyway, they were gobshites who hadn't got an ounce'v subtlety between them - and maybe about four brain cells while they were at it. The super weird thing - one'v them - was that Murf the bloody Surf was actually violin prodigy, of all things. They got caught in pretty short order because they were living it up in some hotel room, tossing money around like it was nothing, and then their trial was a mess and a half. They made a movie about it in the 70's, and one'v the gobshites helped write it."

As badly as Earlene wanted to believe that Lorna somehow had this all wrong, it was just nutty enough that it was probably true. Shaking her head, she drifted over to look at the big emerald, hoping that that one was free from stories. "People've got no decency," she fumed. "They can't keep their sticky mitts off of what ought to belong to everyone." Greed annoyed her, deeply. Thranduil tilted his head, but elected to remain silent. Thanadir shook his head, and thought his King had quite enough gems as it was.

"Stealing something that big and recognizable, I don't know what they thought they were doing," Lorna said, shaking her head. "Anybody with half a brain knows you don't steal something you can't easily fence. If it'll get spotted as something stolen right off, there's not many that'd buy it from you." She spoke, unfortunately, as one with knowledge of just how that worked. And not all of it was learned from Shane.

The last things to see, unless they wished to stare longer at dinosaurs (which was never a bad thing) were the meteorites and the exhibit about forests; it seemed wrong to keep an elf from anything having to do with those. This was about the big trees that were in California, and their ages. Had elves seen Sequoia trees? Earlene shrugged. Who knew what they'd seen…

Jesus, these trees got bloody huge - while it was possible the ancient forests of Britain and Ireland had produced something this big, Lorna rather doubted it. She didn't know if sequoias even grew on their side of the Atlantic. Standing next to that quartered stump, she found it was wider than she was tall, and she snapped a few pictures of it before having Earlene take one of her standing beside it, for sheer scale purposes.

If Thanadir and Thranduil's astonishment at seeing the cross-sections and other specimens from this faraway forest were any indication, they had not ever beheld such trees. Her heart felt squeezed to see their looks of undisguised longing, and her lips parted. Could she take them to such a place, one day? California was further away, but...it was still possible to fly from Ireland to one of the big airports on the west coast on a nonstop flight...she thought? Earlene had been to San Francisco, once, but that had been for work and there was zero time on that trip for anything resembling sightseeing. The more she saw their hunger to learn, the more she wished to find ways to satisfy it, especially when it concerned matters that were close to their hearts. Maybe. Time would tell.

They enjoyed the meteors, such as they were, and then even Earlene was interested in the gift shop. Was it too early to think about dinosaur-related childrens' toys? She doubted it, and hell if any girl of hers was ever playing with a goddamn Barbie.

Lorna, who had neglected other gift shops to an unforgivable degree, had a field day in this one: her nieces and nephews all got astronomy-related things, just because they were pretty, and who didn't love a pretty, starry sky? She herself got a lamp that projected a constellation onto the walls and ceiling. Ratiri, though...she was a little shit, and got him two different kits. They were metal dinosaur skeletons, one a velociraptor and one a titanosaurus, both of which would stand between three and four feet high. Either he'd love it or he'd kill her, but she was pretty sure he'd love it. He didn't have any place to put either so long as he was staying with Doc Barry, but he did have rooms at the Halls.

Earlene chose three plush and allegedly baby safe toys; a triceratops, a duck-billed dinosaur, and a stegosaurus. They would probably be gummed to death...when did elflings teethe? She was really going to have to sit down with Thanadir one day and ask these things; the seneschal tended to give answers in a detailed format that her brain could absorb, whereas Thranduil tended to respond in summary form with broader descriptions. In the cab back to the hotel, Earlene looked at Lorna's gifts with some envy. She'd no room for any such thing, but they looked so fun… yard-art worthy, even. Though, she could guess that elves would not think these were some kind of suitable excuse for garden gnomes, somehow. They arrived back at their room with the better part of four hours left, before tonight's party, and tomorrow relatively early, they needed to leave for the airport. Where had the damn time gone?

Lorna, footsore but pleased, took a quick shower when they got back to the room, using a little of that time to just relax before she had to hassle with her dress and hair. "So what can we expect at this party?" she asked, cracking her neck as she eyed the little makeup she'd brought. Mairead had taught her how to do eye makeup, though she rarely wore it. In this case, mascara, eyeliner, and some kind of dark gold eyeshadow, to match her dress and comb.

"Well, that's the strange thing about them. What's expected, near as I can tell, is to show up. It's like...it's like in Harry Potter, being in the Slug Club. You don't actually matter, but there you are, like an ornament or a status symbol to whoever is hosting the event. There is all the food and twice the liquor, word to the wise, it's easy to get smashed at these things if you're not careful. I know you can outdrink me by miles, but even you could fall off the rails. Expect that we will be in a home that cost about ninety million dollars; our host is one of the wealthiest in this City. It might not seem that way once you see it, let's just say he paid for a view similar to what we saw up in One World Trade Center.

Basically we seem to stand around, holding our drinks, now and again eating an hors d'oeuvre or a small plate of whatever-you'll find it's all finger food, there is no sitting down to a table. Servants will come around offering flutes of champagne and little dainty things to eat; you can stand in a corner all night and still go home stuffed. Sometimes I talk for a few minutes to everyone there, other times I spent the whole night with my escort. I should explain, too. I have a friend at the office, Tim, who might be there tonight. He's attractive, and gay, and that last part's top secret. He and I would always go to parties together, so much so that lots of people thought we were secretly a couple. We never bothered to inform them differently. I'm just putting that out there so that if we greet each other warmly, no one gets the wrong impression."

"Gay?" asked Thanadir, clearly struggling.

"He wants to have intimate relations only with other males," Earlene said. "He is not interested in women aside from friendship."

The seneschal nodded, sighing. He was looking forward to returning to the forest, where life was predictable. Earlene felt a little sorry for him, as she watched him rub his long fingers against her father's wedding ring as though it were a talisman to ward off evil. Which for him, she supposed it sort of was. Raising her eyebrows, she realized she might need to tell Tim that Thanadir was off-limits. Unfortunately, those two would make a devastatingly handsome pair. Feigning a need to use the bathroom, she excused herself...this was a train of thought that seriously needed derailing.

Lorna gave this due consideration, stretching her feet and cracking her ankles. "Rich people," she said, "are weird. I'll do my best not to get plastered or stepped on." Earlene's old boss was probably the only one who would be able to understand her, so at least she could avoid making chit-chat with anyone but him - and if she was anything like a decent person, she'd ward all the posh women away from poor Thanadir, since wedding ring or no wedding ring, she could see a few of them trying, and the poor lad had been through more than enough weirdness this trip already. She didn't want his brain breaking before they got home.

"Eh, you'll be fine. Sandgraust is more decent than you think. He worked his way up from nothing; he knows life from all sides. And while I'll grant that there are valid stereotypes, not all rich are the same just like not all poor are the same. There's arseholes in either bunch. And, all that said, I'm going to hog the shower for a bit."

Earlene grinned when it became plain that she and Thranduil would be hogging the shower for a bit. Oh well, what a shame.

Lorna's eyebrows went up. "Y'know, I think I'll go for a walk. Stop in at the bakery. Exactly how long'v a walk does this need to be?" Yes, she was heinously squicked, but whatever. The bakery really did have good pastries, and she could shoot off an email to Ratiri while she was at it.

Earlene had no idea what Lorna was talking about, and looked at her, then Thranduil, then shrugged and took her clean t shirt and pants into the bathroom. Thranduil smiled. Lorna, feel free to go for a walk if you wish to, but I think you are spending too much time imagining what is not occurring when Earlene and I are sharing the bathroom. That being said, if you go, I would not mind a spinach and cheese croissant; I did not eat much this morning, and perhaps Thanadir would like something as well? With a smirk, he too disappeared into the bathroom. He knew he was being awful, but it was equally true that on the last occasion, his diminutive friend had dutifully drowned out nothing whatsoever.

Lorna burst out laughing. Even I know what two people usually get up to in the shower, she sent him, shaking her head and packing up her laptop. "Thanadir, d'you want anything from the bakery?"

The seneschal looked up from his laptop and smiled. "A bagel with cream cheese and lox please?" He had tried Earlene's and realized what he'd been missing.

"Can do," she said. "Tell those eejits they've got twenty minutes. If they're still in there when I get back, I'm going to sit outside the door and make cat noises." Shouldering her laptop bag, she headed outward, shaking her head again. She couldn't like - it rather made her think about just how the hell things would actually work if she and Ratiri ever got to that point. Given their height difference, God only knew.

Despite the complete hypocrisy of everything he was about to do, given his earlier reproof of his wife, his brain was practically afire with the opportunity Lorna had just provided. Feeling very much like indulging himself all the way around now, he entered the shower where Earlene was scrubbing at her hair with shampoo, eyes closed to keep the suds out. The moment his hands were on her, she gasped. He hadn't done this in a long time, this...psychic arousal, that he could do, but he was using it on her full force now. "Shhhh," he said, as he supported her from behind so that she did not stumble. Within seconds, he was giving her an experience that ranked right up there with what would forever stand out in her memory as the Breakfast Sandwich Moment. It took all her effort to remain quiet, but he made it very worth her while, in spite of the fact that she could only wheeze at the moment when she most wanted to scream in her enjoyment. As he held her, breathless, she managed a whisper. "You're going to be the death of me, but at least I'll enjoy myself on the way out." He did not seem to hear her, as his body went rigid and she felt him reach his own satisfaction. Where in hell had this come from? She wondered, still unable to open her eyes for the soap everywhere. With a chuckle, he carefully helped rinse the offending suds away as he easily lifted her to trade places.

We must make haste, meluieg. I wish to do something.

I thought you just did make haste.

Openly laughing, he took the bottle of shampoo and lathered his own hair while she worked the conditioner into hers. Still not understanding why, she did hurry as he'd asked, and completed her ablutions. Dress, quickly.

What on earth..?

Trust me.

Sighing, she hurriedly yanked on her clothing and finger combed her damp hair, when she'd rather be applying moisturizer and foundation, but, he was King. To her complete incomprehension, he left the water running in the shower, and practically yanked her out of their room and down the hallway after he'd climbed into shorts and a tee of his own. Do you have any intention of telling me what this is about? she asked him silently.

I ask your indulgence. I am teaching Lorna a mild lesson. It seems that she believes that any moment I seek to be alone with you, I am having carnal relations with you. I wish to make a point.

But you just were having carnal relations with me.

Meluieg…

Very well, my Lord, she said, now highly amused. These two…. Not five minutes later, an unearthly sound came from down the hall. It sounded like a cat in heat and...oh god no, Earlene thought. It can't be…

This was allowed to go on for exactly ninety seconds (she knew because she was counting) at which point she heard, now meluieg, we will return to the room. You first.

Earlene looked at him like he'd just gotten off the ship from Pluto, but she did as he asked, and had to knock on the door because duh, they'd left their key cards. Lorna answered the door, and the look on her face was admittedly priceless when she saw Earlene looking at her quizzically (because there was no doubt whatsoever left as to the origin of the caterwauling), passing her as she returned to her suitcase. Thranduil, shaking with laughter, followed her in just before the door latch could click shut.

Lorna eyed the still-closed bathroom door, and the two of them. "You, Mister, are King'v the bloody Gobshites. I don't supposed you told Earlene why you'd dragged her out into the hallway, did you?" Without waiting for an answer - because let's face it, she already knew - she said, "I warned him that if you two weren't out'v the bathroom in twenty minutes, I'd go sit by the door and make cat noises." She was having sudden, very vivid fantasies about duct tape and Thranduil's eyebrows. Alas, there was literally no way to ever pull that off in reality, but a girl could dream. "It'd better not be all steamy in there. Us ladies need makeup, at least tonight." The glower she leveled at Thranduil would have been a lot more menacing if she hadn't been fighting laughter herself.

"I'm actually counting on it being steamy, because no, he didn't tell me, and now I've got to try to get moisturizer into dry skin," Earlene grumbled. "Excuse me please, I have firieth things to do." She felt she marginally owed it to Lorna to at least pretend to be aggravated, even though she'd gotten a laugh and an amazing orgasm out of the whole thing. Probably she ought to thank her but...no. But she did shut off the damn tap, when she entered the steam room.

Thanadir, in the meantime, had his eyebrows still hovering near his hairline at hearing what his King had just been called by Lorna, and no small indignation was mounting at this perceived effrontery. Fortunately, Thranduil noticed this in time.

"Havo dad, i hadron nîn. Pân vae." (Sit down, my faithful one. All is well.) Thanadir cast his eyes down, and seated himself. He did not fully understand or approve of how Lorna chose to express herself some of the time, but this was not for him to say. It was likely for the best that he returned to his reading, so with a sigh he did so.

Lorna shook her head. "You are so lucky I like you," she said, before dissolving into laughter herself. With Earlene in the bathroom, she took her makeup to the big mirror beside the door, holding her fringe out of her face with a comb while she did as Mairead had taught her. It was just as well Mairead had taught her, or she'd make an utter hash of this.

The bathroom door burst open. "Can someone who is more inventive than I am make this damn door stay open? Else the steam in here is never going to clear." She was far beyond needing moist air, and if the hotel hair dryer was going to have a prayer of working, something had to give.

Thranduil, interested in keeping the peace now, left Thanadir happily munching his pastry while he put his own down. The door had a device on it that caused it to shut automatically, and with the ability truly tall people seemed to have, he managed to wedge it open.

The bathroom was occupied, and Lorna couldn't do her hair until she'd got her dress on, so she stepped into the closet - tiny as it was - and wriggled her way into it. Lacing up the back by herself was a neat trick, and she'd probably have to have someone fix it for her later. Brushing her hair took a while, but she wanted to get the kinks out from her braid - something that wouldn't have been possible before she'd started using the elf shampoo. Coiling the top half into a bun, she carefully secured it in place with the comb.

She would do, she thought. She wasn't the one everybody would be looking at - she'd happily cede that position to Earlene. The dress was lovely, and the comb, and she'd actually managed the shimmery eyeshadow without overdoing it or getting it all over her cheeks.

Earlene now marched out, having done battle with hair and makeup. The funny thing to her was, before, it was always "party-wear" for her to leave her hair down, since at the office it was always worn pinned up, no exceptions. Never mind that now, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd styled it that way since going to Ireland. No one from here was the wiser. She stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of Lorna. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful." Marching straight off to get her phone, she insisted on a photo of the three of them, since apparently everyone was dressed but her. And just to be awful, she sent it to Ratiri with a message that said one thing: ";-)"

Lorna came as close to blushing as she actually could, smoothing down the velvet that was already totally smooth. She felt like a bit of an eejit, but she also wasn't used to wearing anything this nice. Being a Thanadir creation, it fit perfectly; there was none of the problem she had with ordinary clothes, where even garments supposedly made for someone her size bagged in weird places. Her sandals she kept, however; the dress was long enough that they wouldn't be obvious, and anybody who was likely to notice them would be a weirdo who stared at feet.

Knowing Lorna would probably prefer not seeing her girls on display, Earlene returned to the now cleared bathroom with her own gown, yanking the door shut behind her. Thanadir's designs never seemed to require a separate bra, and this was no exception. She was a little curious...he'd had her try it on for final fittings, but had not allowed her to see herself in it; something facilitated easily by the relatively few mirrors on hand in the rooms. But she could see it now, and her lips parted. Her breasts were...how did he do that? If any more cleavage showed, she would have considered the garment to be tacky. As it was, it was still completely tasteful, yet left her looking stunning and desirable. Thank god I'm not coming back anytime soon; she was not sure she wanted the office to remember her this way, but, as neither John nor Tim would think worse of her, who cared? Besides, it was obvious that this had been created to please one pair of eyes alone. And that was fine; she and Thanadir had their priorities aligned in this, apparently. Though she still found it incredibly odd that an unwed ellon could comprehend breasts as well as he seemed to. Best to not think about it, she reasoned. The dress was otherwise ethereal. Because she knew the difference, there were clearly elven elements to the design, but it did not scream "weird" or "out of place." Far from it; it was extremely fashionable. The last thing to choose now was lip color; she carefully applied a stain in a color that flattered the gown. There was no need of further jewelry with her necklace on display; she took one last moment to admire the glittering gems in the mirror before wiggling her feet into the matching leather slippers Thanadir had also made and exiting the room.

Thranduil leaned against the wall across from this door, eagerly awaiting his surprise. When Earlene emerged, he was not disappointed. Without taking his eyes off his wife, he reached around Thanadir's shoulders to briefly hug the elf to him. "Len hannon, Thanadir," he whispered. Admiring her for a few moments longer while she blushed under his stare, he reached into his pocket. "I have something for each of you to wear. Because I know that both of you cannot stand it, consider these on loan for the evening, so that you do not have to waste brain cells pondering jewels." He turned to Lorna, and fastened a lovely ruby and pearl choker around her neck. And on his wife, he fastened a stunning garnet bracelet. Stepping back, he looked at both of them, feeling very pleased with what he saw. "You both look exquisite. I am only sorry that Ratiri is not here to appreciate this."

"Whisht, you," Lorna said awkwardly, but inordinately pleased. She touched the necklace, and rather wished Ratiri was here, too. She wouldn't feel quite so out-of-place if he were. (Though she had to remind herself, as she noted the rather fantastic things Earlene's dress did for her cleavage, that at her own height and build, tits would just look weird. She couldn't carry them off right.) Earlene might think she looked like 'a damn lawyer', but right now, there was something very elf-like about her. "All right, now Thanadir, I know you don't like lying, but if people notice your wedding ring - and you might have to point it out, if someone gets pushy - like as not they're going to ask about your wife. Just tell them she's back home in Ireland and hope they don't ask for details. I'll stick with you, since Christ knows we're both in over our heads here."

Thanadir reflected on how, or if, to respond to Lorna, who did not seem to comprehend his aversion to untruths or his ability to manage for himself. How did you penetrate the reasoning of someone who should be able to understand that if you could kill a stranger at need, you could manage being propositioned? He sighed. "Thank you Lorna; I am sure I will be fine. I do not believe this will be that sort of party. Or, let us hope so."

Lorna gave him a half-smile. "I worry about the people I care about, Thanadir," she said. "It's what I do. Ask Thranduil. I know it drives him up the wall sometimes, but I can't help it. The fact that you can handle yourself through weird shite doesn't mean I want you to have to do it alone."

The old elf laid his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently, with a smile. He did not always comprehend Lorna, and then some, but she appeared to have a good heart.

Earlene pocketed some cash for cab fare, her identification and key card, her lipstick and her phone, all of which could be secreted in cleverly hidden pockets throughout the garment.

"Well, here goes nothing," said Earlene brightly, gesturing them out the door.