Author's note: Hello hello! Just letting you know that this chapter talks about spiders in some detail. Also, you'll find that some of the information in the chapter is incomplete, so I've appropriated the Psych Notes section, which has temporarily become Spider Notes, as I thought the fact was too interesting not to share. Hope you're all doing well! Oh, and big thanks to earthdragon for pointing out the mistake I made about where Elrond started out. Much appreciated! I'll fix that up soon!
"Rhodri, there you are!" came a gently admonishing voice from behind me. It gave me such a start that I reflexively flailed my limbs, sending the book I had been holding into the air. It was snapped up by a very dextrous hand that seemed to have shot out of nowhere.
"Bregedúr! Great catch!" I squeaked as I clutched my chest.
Bregedúr raised an eyebrow at me, picked up the pile of books on the couch beside me, and plonked herself down in their place.
"So these are the reasons you skipped breakfast… and lunch…" she murmured as she examined each book's cover.
"Goodness, you're right!" I gasped, looking out the window and seeing a distinctly afternoonish sky. "I must've gotten really absorbed in my research. Who knew spiders were so interesting?"
"Wait until you see the Mirkwood giants," Bregedúr replied. "They're interesting, to be sure, but it's probably the last descriptor that comes to mind when they are actively trying to decapitate you."
I had nothing to say to that. What could I say? I hadn't ever been there. She was probably right.
I wasn't left with enough time to even try to make a witty remark, as Bregedúr gently placed the books on the coffee table in front of us. She stood up, then turned around and hauled me onto my feet.
"Wh-" I began as I found myself suddenly upright.
"You need fresh air," Bregedúr said firmly. "I'm certain I saw a layer of dust fly off you when you got startled."
She took my notebook and pen out of my hands and placed it on top of the pile of books. "Don't worry, your books will still be here when you get back; everyone knows they're yours. We all recognise your handwriting because nobody else's is that hard to decipher." She shot me a cheeky grin, evidently thrilled with her clever banter.
Before I invited her to go bite her arse, Bregedúr frog-marched me out of the library and into the crisp midday air.
"Bregedúr, where are we going?" I spluttered. "I have to get to the office shortly!"
She stopped. "How soon?" she asked, looking at me beadily.
I checked my watch and gasped. "Gawd! In about ten minutes!"
My friend rolled her eyes theatrically and said, "Ah, go on then. But Glorfindel and I want to talk to you- we have been looking everywhere for you today!"
"Dinner," I said quickly. "How about then?"
"Fine, but don't be late!" she said, hands on her hips.
"'Course not!" I said with a wink, turning to run back to the library to get my things. I quickly stopped and looked at Bregedúr. "Oh, and, uh, thanks for the alarm call." I smiled at her. "Where would I be without you, hmm?"
With that, I was off like a shot, and heard Bregedúr call after me, "You'd still be in the library, caked in dust, you fool!"
Bregedúr seemed to be in an especially good mood today. Either that or she was excited. Though good-natured ribbing was a cornerstone of our friendship, she only trotted out her best raillery in such rapid fire on special occasions.
I pondered this as I skittered through the halls and into the office, feeling just a little pleased that nobody had seen me burst through the door and land in my chair like a missile. I felt that patients had more confidence in a psychologist who seemed organised, and even if it was a total and utter farce, if I could keep up appearances, why on earth not? They benefited from it because treatments were likely to be more effective if they had greater confidence in me. Fake it 'til you make it, right?
I had been eagerly anticipating this first session with Legolas. An important first step in tackling a phobia is knowing thy enemy. A better understanding of the object of one's anxiety helps to dispel any misconceptions about them and allows for more objective thinking and perhaps even to foster an appreciation of them.
Spiders, as terrifying as they might be, are fascinating creatures, and I had had a whale of a time reading up on them. Some interesting facts might just be the way to start things off.
I was whistling cheerfully to myself and organising my notes for the day when the knock came that would start proceedings. Looking up, I saw Legolas standing at the door, looking amused. I smiled and invited him in.
"What is that song you were whistling?" he asked as he came in and sat down.
"Ah, a song about a fictional hero in my home, who had magical powers given to him by a spider," I said, passing him a glass of water. "I'll tell you more about him later. Are you ready to get started with phase one?"
Legolas raised the glass to his lips, and I noticed the water visibly rippling as he drank deeply.
"As ready as one can be, I suppose," he eventually said as he replaced the glass.
"I'll just explain what I'd like to cover today first," I began. "We're going to get you into the habit of feeling comfortable while talking about spiders. We'll get to the heart of the bothersome parts of spiders and do something called 'intellectualisation,' whereby I teach you some things about spiders to replace fear with understanding. Now remember, if it gets too much, all you need to do is say so, and we will take a break- no judgement, no criticism. You set the pace. How's that?"
He nodded slowly.
"Excellent. Now tell me, Legolas, what is it about spiders that you find particularly unappealing?"
Legolas squirmed in his seat as he considered my question. "All the eyes. The way they move. The way they lift up their legs when they are about to attack…" he shuddered audibly and shook his head quickly.
"That's fair," I answered. "That's what most people hate about them. And yet, they're some of the most interesting things about spiders. How much do you know about spiders, incidentally?"
"Very little," he admitted.
"In which case, let's have a look at some of the things that make spiders unique. We'll start with an exercise."
I opened the drawer to my desk and took out a rubber ball that had been sitting in my backpack. I held it up for Legolas to see, and then gently threw it to him. He caught the ball and looked at me quizzically.
"How did you know that ball was coming?" I asked.
Legolas frowned. "Well, I saw it flying toward my face," he said, throwing the ball back to me.
"What if the ball were coming to you," I said, hopping out of my chair and walking over to the right of Legolas, "but from the side? What would you do then?"
He chuckled weakly. "I imagine I would not be able to do much, and the ball would likely hit me in the head."
"Correct," I said as I nudged him in the side of the head with the ball. "Fortunately, we are not often in situations where we need to anticipate attacks from the side. We have two eyes on the front of our face because we were built to travel long distances, and we need to see how far away things are so we can prepare better to catch food and spot enemies. That arrangement works best for us."
He nodded. I continued, as I made my way back to my chair.
"Now, think about the life an average spider leads. You live in a web or on the ground, trying to catch some food for yourself, but you have a lot of things that like to eat you as well. And not just that, but what you try to catch will often attempt to fight you. Really, you're in for a rough ride as a spider. Just about everything wants you dead. You stand a very good chance of losing a few legs and eyes through your lifetime, and on top of that, imagine that these two eyes," I pointed at mine, "can't move. They stay looking straight ahead. Having some eyes on the side would be pretty handy, wouldn't they? Something that could move around to see all the things after you."
Legolas looked uncomfortable, but he seemed to concede with another nod. "It's still not pleasant, though," he murmured.
"No, not really, but there are a lot of animals with more than two eyes," I replied. "Jellyfish have 24 eyes, for example. Bodies adapt to their environment. Tell me how you feel about spiders' eyes now that you know that fact."
He sat quietly for a moment as he deliberated over my question. His lips were pursed for some time before he finally said, "Well, it was very interesting, and I suppose now that I know a little more about why there are so many, I feel like I can dislike them, but in a different way."
"How can you dislike them differently now?"
"Well, I suppose before, it was a general dislike that was not based on any specific reason except my fear, and there was no room for me to feel anything else about them. But now that I know more, I feel like I can still dislike them, but also feel that it makes sense for spiders to have so many." He sat there cogitating over his own answer for a few minutes, and then looked up at me, still disturbed but showing a hint of satisfaction.
"You're doing fantastically well, Legolas," I said with a smile, refilling his water glass. "It can be hard to put yourself through learning about something that's so distressing, but you're powering on through it. You should be proud of yourself."
Legolas smiled weakly.
I checked my watch. It had been half an hour.
"We have enough time for another exercise, if you're interested," I offered.
That was met with a small nod. I left my seat again, and went over to Legolas. He was sitting straight in his chair, with both feet on the floor, watching me curiously.
"Would you mind straightening your right leg for a moment?" I asked, pointing at said limb.
Legolas' face suggested that this was one of the stranger requests he had had, but humoured me anyway, sticking his leg out straight ahead.
"Right," I said after a moment, "now, if I may, I would like to push down on your foot with my hand, and I would like you to try to keep your leg straight. Is that all right?"
He nodded and made a gesture inviting me to proceed. I put my hand out flat on the bridge of his foot and gently pressed down. I felt Legolas' leg go rigid under me as his muscles started straining a little harder to maintain the desired position, and after a few seconds, I let go.
"Jolly good. You can lower your foot now," I said, sitting back down.
"Now, tell me about how you straightened your leg," I requested.
"Well, ah, my muscles did it, really," he said. "They tightened, and that pulled my foot up."
"Precisely," I agreed. "And then what happened when I pushed down on the top of your foot? How did your leg stay straight then?"
"I… think I tensed my muscles there, too," he murmured uncertainly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"You did indeed," I confirmed with a nod. "Many muscles can be divided into two broad groups: flexors and extensors." I lifted one arm like I was about to show off my nonexistent guns.
"When flexor muscles tense, it bends the joint." I pointed at my bicep as I flexed my arm, "and then when extensor muscles tense, it straightens the joint," I indicated my tricep as my arm sprawled out. "That make sense so far?"
Legolas nodded.
"Now, spiders' legs don't have extensor muscles, only flexors, which means they don't have any muscles to stretch their legs out." I held my hand palm-up and slowly curled my fingers into a ball.
Legolas' eyes widened as he watched my fingers, and to my surprise, he suddenly stammered out, "Rhodri, c-can we stop, please?" His face had gone ghostly pale, and he looked like he was moments away from overturning the chair and scarpering from the office.
I quickly put my hands down. "Of course we can," I said with a reassuring smile. "We absolutely can. Would you like a short break, or would you prefer to continue this in the next session?"
In those short few moments, he had started to sweat, and I could see beads forming on his forehead. "Next session, if you don't mind."
"You set the pace, Legolas," I reminded him. "Take your time and relax this afternoon doing something you like. You have done an absolutely exceptional job. Well done on listening to yourself and setting boundaries. That can also also very difficult, but you're going wonderfully there, too."
Legolas sat in the chair for a little while, wringing his hands.
"Where do you like to go to de-stress when you're at home?" I asked gently.
"I enjoy sitting with my horse," he mumbled, not looking up at me.
"Come," I said, standing up. "I'll show you the way to the stables from here, yes?"
He slowly eased himself out of the seat, and allowed himself to be walked out of the office and down to where the horses were kept. Night was falling, the biting chill drowning out the nominal warmth the sunshine had offered.
We reached the stables and stopped at a stall belonging to a very handsome dapple-grey horse, who nickered happily upon seeing who had come to visit.
"Hello, Anglos," Legolas said, a true smile revitalising his exhausted face as he lovingly pat the horse's face.
"I'll leave you to it," I said with a nod. "From here, the dining hall is just up the hill." I pointed to an uphill path some hundred metres away.
Legolas nodded back. "Thank you, Rhodri. I will see you in three days, then?"
"You know it," I said with a grin, and with that, I made my way up to the dining hall to fulfill the other task for the day: find out what apparently urgent thing Bregedúr and Glorfindel had to speak to me about.
I strode into the hall and saw the two of them sitting with Elrond and Gil-Galad already. They caught sight of me and Bregedúr waved me over in an attempt to hurry me up. I picked up my pace and beetled over to them.
"Goodness, what on earth is the urgency, you two? You'd think the world was about to end or something."
"And well it might if we can't get this sorted once and for all," said Glorfindel, trumpeting melodrama with every syllable.
I arched an eyebrow and sat down with them, loading my plate with food as I did so.
"What's all this about?"
"Well, you see-" began Bregedúr, who was cut off by Glorfindel.
"You promised we were going to go camping," he said, giving me a thoroughly reproachful look.
My potato fell off my fork as I stared at him in disbelief. "Is this what's going to cause the end of the world? If we can't organise dates for a camping trip?"
Elrond glanced at Glorfindel, then shrugged. "It would seem so," he affirmed.
"Lord have mercy on me," I murmured under my breath. "Well, all right, I tell you what. I have to go to Mirkwood in the coming few months. Tentatively, it should be in about three months, but that might change. My business there should only last a week or two. How about you four set out a little after I do, meet me in Mirkwood, and we'll make a camping trip of it on the way back. Is that fair?"
This was met with unanimous approval from Bregedúr, Glorfindel, Elrond, and Gil-Galad. Glorfindel and Bregedúr were particularly vocal about it, but even Elrond and Gil-Galad murmured their approval through statements like, "Yes, indeed, it has been some time since we took leave last-"
"And it is for our own wellbeing, of course, not leisure-"
"Oh, no question, no question."
I took a moment to observe them all happily chattering and felt a warmth spread all through my body right to the tips of my fingers. Life was mighty fine.
"Rhodri, stop staring at us so sentimentally and join the conversation!" chided Bregedúr with a laugh as she gently prodded me in the arm with her fork.
"Who wants to hear facts about spiders?" I asked with a grin.
Elrond and Glorfindel looked keen, as a matter of fact, but Bregedúr rolled her eyes, and Gil-Galad said "Perhaps you should return to your sentimental reverie awhile longer," failing to suppress a giggle.
They were an all right bunch, really.
Anglos (Sind.): "Iron-snow"
Spider Notes: All right, so you lovely bunch, this is pretty rad. As you read above, spiders don't have extensor muscles, only flexors, mostly because there isn't room in their body for both kinds of muscles, and it would make them too heavy to move around. They are able straighten their legs thanks to a special hydraulic system found in their abdomen (known as the cephalothorax), which is where all their legs attach to the body. This system has 'pipes' that pump the spider equivalent of blood (known as haemolymph) right out to the end of the leg. If you can imagine those party tooters, where you blow and it unfurls the paper into a long tube, that's pretty much the same thing going on, except it uses haemolymph, and the spider doesn't make a tooting sound every time it takes a step.
This means that if a spider takes a hit to the cephalothorax that causes a puncture, it's in big trouble, because the pressure drops dramatically as a result. This is also why when spiders die, their legs curl up: there is no longer any hydraulic pressure going out through the legs as the cephalothorax is no longer pumping, and also because the flexor muscles tighten from rigor mortis.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk on why spiders look ridiculous- and kind of unnerving- when they run. Now you know.
