"We are from the Church of the Latter Day Saints. Are your parents home?" A
male voice asks. I rush to the front door and glare at the two guys in
suits.
"I worship Satan, do you want to join my cult? We meet next to sacrifice animals and virgins on, let me think, Wednesday, should I put your names down?" I ask them nastily. "Frodo, inside!" I push him inside. The guys in suits look like fish. Big open mouths and all. "Go away!" I slam the door in their faces, ignoring the repeated knockings. "Door open no. Door closed yes! Go and eat food." I point him in the direction of the living room and massage my forehead. In their world, they are mighty warriors, but here they are a nuisance! A large and annoying nuisance. Nine of them.
I walk into the room where the Fellowship are finishing off the chips. "Now, I suppose that you guys want to see stuff, while we wait for Gandalf to wake up and take you guys home. The easiest way to disguise you is not to disguise you at all. If anyone asks, you're all going to a Lord of the Rings movie convention. On second thoughts, don't talk. Leave the talking to me. I have some money, so I'll buy you some stuff to eat and drink while we're out." They nod. I get this feeling of a hen trying to look after ducklings. They just don't get it. "Rule number one, don't kill anyone, don't even draw your weapons at all. If you do, you'll end up in gaol. And it'll be really hard to get you out. Criminals seemingly have more rights then innocent people, so no weapons! Weapons equal lots of trouble. The worst thing here is another man. No Orcs, no Wargs, no Goblins, no giant spiders, no dragons. Just Men."
"One Elf is worth ten men anyway." Legolas says snootily.
"And one Dwarf is worth a hundred Elves!" Gimli says in a gruff voice. Legolas snarls and half draws his dagger. Gimli clenches his axe.
"Weapons NO!" I yelp. "Apologize, both of you." They both growl out apologies. "Something that has always puzzled me though, about Lord of the Rings fanfics is that Common is exactly the same as English. Why do you guys talk English?" They look confused.
"We talk Common, and so do you." Boromir says in the tone of someone trying to talk to an extremely slow child. "Your Common is oddly accented, and you talk most strangely, but it is still Common."
I massage my forehead. I can feel a headache coming on. "Fine, whatever. Here. I'll put the TV on. And the people can't get out, they can't see you, can't hear you. They're illusions all right?" They nod. Please let them understand. "Do not touch the TV, do not go near it, just watch it." I switch on the TV, and slowly walk to my room. Oy vey. I enter my room, dump Missy in her special box, and scrabble around for my LotR costume I bought. It cost a couple of hundred dollars, but it still doesn't look as good as what they're wearing. Pity they didn't bring extra clothes over with them.
Gandalf is still snoring on the bed, and what is really, really bad, is that he's drooling onto my pillow. Ew. I so have to wash that. Gandalf gives a bubbling snore and turns over. Yep, Gandalf is a great and mighty wizard, all right. I suppose no one looks really imposing when they're asleep.
I rummage around more in my wardrobe and finally unearth my costume from behind several dresses and shirts and stuff. It is hanging up, ok? I remove my costume from my warderobe and critically hold it against me. I stick my tounge out at my reflection in my mirror. A costume is not the same as clothes. You can always tell. I take my costume and leave my bedroom and go to change in the bathroom. It has a lock, which is useful. I keep half an ear out for sounds of trouble, but I don't hear anything.
I slip into the brown moleskin leather pants and green long sleeved shirt. I put on the thin seude leather jerkin and lace it almost to the top. I then take off my sandals and slide on my beautiful boots. They are really gorgeous boots that I got from an old fashioned cobbler, who made boots like his forefathers did. Out of deerskin, soft and supple. I sigh as I look at my reflection in the mirror. They are good quality, and they should be for how much I paid, but you can tell they're not clothes. The boots are the best bit, really. I do have a good dagger though. I even have a licence for it, just with a false name and age on it. I preen in front of the mirror, then deliberately unlace a bit more of the jerkin. Ah, no! I bang my head against the bathroom mirror. I hurriedly relace the jerkin and make a deliberate effort to control the mary sueness.
Why me? Really, I can name about, I don't know, over a hundred girls who would have succumbed to the mary sueness and be in the bed with one of them by now. Maybe more then one. Must be my ingrained cynicism. And also, who knows what weird bugs, not referring to merely germs, they have. Bad images! I am not having a good day. Stupid Fellowship! I wish that they would all burn, burn in flames! Flames...I like that idea. Or I can just give them to Missy. I chuckle evilly and gathering my clothes leave the bathroom.
I open the door to my bedroom and throw my clothes on the chair. Gandalf is still dead to the world, except, his hair has little flickers in it, like electricity. I pretend I don't see it, because if I see it, it probably means something bad is going to happen. So I ignore it and close the door quietly. Missy is still growling to herself. As long she can't get out and eat the Fellowship, that's the main thing.
I head back to the living room and frown as I hear the moans and gasps. Female moans and gasps. Mary sues? I quicken my step. I enter the room and my jaw drops as I see what's on the screen. I am going to kill that technologically gifted little brother of mine. We have cable, and even though the Playboy channel is hypothetically locked out, he has manged to make it work. The Fellowship are all watching with supreme interest. I shake my head in disgust. Males. Any species, any world, and this is probably the most entertaining thing that they can think of. I just hope we aren't being billed for this, but if I know Aiden, we're not.
"I worship Satan, do you want to join my cult? We meet next to sacrifice animals and virgins on, let me think, Wednesday, should I put your names down?" I ask them nastily. "Frodo, inside!" I push him inside. The guys in suits look like fish. Big open mouths and all. "Go away!" I slam the door in their faces, ignoring the repeated knockings. "Door open no. Door closed yes! Go and eat food." I point him in the direction of the living room and massage my forehead. In their world, they are mighty warriors, but here they are a nuisance! A large and annoying nuisance. Nine of them.
I walk into the room where the Fellowship are finishing off the chips. "Now, I suppose that you guys want to see stuff, while we wait for Gandalf to wake up and take you guys home. The easiest way to disguise you is not to disguise you at all. If anyone asks, you're all going to a Lord of the Rings movie convention. On second thoughts, don't talk. Leave the talking to me. I have some money, so I'll buy you some stuff to eat and drink while we're out." They nod. I get this feeling of a hen trying to look after ducklings. They just don't get it. "Rule number one, don't kill anyone, don't even draw your weapons at all. If you do, you'll end up in gaol. And it'll be really hard to get you out. Criminals seemingly have more rights then innocent people, so no weapons! Weapons equal lots of trouble. The worst thing here is another man. No Orcs, no Wargs, no Goblins, no giant spiders, no dragons. Just Men."
"One Elf is worth ten men anyway." Legolas says snootily.
"And one Dwarf is worth a hundred Elves!" Gimli says in a gruff voice. Legolas snarls and half draws his dagger. Gimli clenches his axe.
"Weapons NO!" I yelp. "Apologize, both of you." They both growl out apologies. "Something that has always puzzled me though, about Lord of the Rings fanfics is that Common is exactly the same as English. Why do you guys talk English?" They look confused.
"We talk Common, and so do you." Boromir says in the tone of someone trying to talk to an extremely slow child. "Your Common is oddly accented, and you talk most strangely, but it is still Common."
I massage my forehead. I can feel a headache coming on. "Fine, whatever. Here. I'll put the TV on. And the people can't get out, they can't see you, can't hear you. They're illusions all right?" They nod. Please let them understand. "Do not touch the TV, do not go near it, just watch it." I switch on the TV, and slowly walk to my room. Oy vey. I enter my room, dump Missy in her special box, and scrabble around for my LotR costume I bought. It cost a couple of hundred dollars, but it still doesn't look as good as what they're wearing. Pity they didn't bring extra clothes over with them.
Gandalf is still snoring on the bed, and what is really, really bad, is that he's drooling onto my pillow. Ew. I so have to wash that. Gandalf gives a bubbling snore and turns over. Yep, Gandalf is a great and mighty wizard, all right. I suppose no one looks really imposing when they're asleep.
I rummage around more in my wardrobe and finally unearth my costume from behind several dresses and shirts and stuff. It is hanging up, ok? I remove my costume from my warderobe and critically hold it against me. I stick my tounge out at my reflection in my mirror. A costume is not the same as clothes. You can always tell. I take my costume and leave my bedroom and go to change in the bathroom. It has a lock, which is useful. I keep half an ear out for sounds of trouble, but I don't hear anything.
I slip into the brown moleskin leather pants and green long sleeved shirt. I put on the thin seude leather jerkin and lace it almost to the top. I then take off my sandals and slide on my beautiful boots. They are really gorgeous boots that I got from an old fashioned cobbler, who made boots like his forefathers did. Out of deerskin, soft and supple. I sigh as I look at my reflection in the mirror. They are good quality, and they should be for how much I paid, but you can tell they're not clothes. The boots are the best bit, really. I do have a good dagger though. I even have a licence for it, just with a false name and age on it. I preen in front of the mirror, then deliberately unlace a bit more of the jerkin. Ah, no! I bang my head against the bathroom mirror. I hurriedly relace the jerkin and make a deliberate effort to control the mary sueness.
Why me? Really, I can name about, I don't know, over a hundred girls who would have succumbed to the mary sueness and be in the bed with one of them by now. Maybe more then one. Must be my ingrained cynicism. And also, who knows what weird bugs, not referring to merely germs, they have. Bad images! I am not having a good day. Stupid Fellowship! I wish that they would all burn, burn in flames! Flames...I like that idea. Or I can just give them to Missy. I chuckle evilly and gathering my clothes leave the bathroom.
I open the door to my bedroom and throw my clothes on the chair. Gandalf is still dead to the world, except, his hair has little flickers in it, like electricity. I pretend I don't see it, because if I see it, it probably means something bad is going to happen. So I ignore it and close the door quietly. Missy is still growling to herself. As long she can't get out and eat the Fellowship, that's the main thing.
I head back to the living room and frown as I hear the moans and gasps. Female moans and gasps. Mary sues? I quicken my step. I enter the room and my jaw drops as I see what's on the screen. I am going to kill that technologically gifted little brother of mine. We have cable, and even though the Playboy channel is hypothetically locked out, he has manged to make it work. The Fellowship are all watching with supreme interest. I shake my head in disgust. Males. Any species, any world, and this is probably the most entertaining thing that they can think of. I just hope we aren't being billed for this, but if I know Aiden, we're not.