CHAPTER TWO: A MEETING IN THE WOODS


Malcolm lay on his bed digesting a, well, eaten meal and tried to get interested in the book he was supposed to read. Giving up after looking at the cover for five second, he shoved the book under his pillow and reached for the phone, pressing a carefully memorized series of numbers.

"I love you, Jennifer," Malcolm said softly into the phone.

"I love you, Malcolm," a soft female voice said from the other end.

"I love you, Jennifer," Malcolm said as part of an obviously repetitious cycle.

*

"I hate this," Reese said from his own bed. "The two of you have been talking that way for almost four hours."

"Reese, this is important," Malcolm hissed at his older brother.

"But it's after midnight," Dewey whined from his own bed on the other side.

"I'll be done in a minute," Malcolm assured them.

"You'll be done now," Reese said, grabbing the cordless phone out of his brother's hand. "Look, Sarah, Malcolm will call you back tomorrow. What? You're Jennifer. I must not have been keeping up with things." Reese tossed the phone back to his brother, adding, "Too bad. She hung up. Now turn off the light so we can sleep."

Reese is only mad because I have a girlfriend and he doesn't. Well, that's too bad for him.

Malcolm quickly pressed the number. "Jennifer, don't hang up . . . Oh, sorry, Sarah. Wrong number." Sheepishly, he dialed the correct number. "Sarah, I mean Jennifer, don't hang . . ." he said before Jennifer hung up. He laid the phone down on his bed in disgust.

"Malcolm." Dewey whined. "Please turn off the light."

"That wasn't fair," Malcolm said in an extremely annoyed voice, as he turned out the light. He didn't put the phone back because Jennifer might call. After all, she did love him. He fell asleep with the phone in his hand.

*

"Malcolm," Dewey whispered as he nervously shook his brother. "Wake up."

"What is it?" came the irritated answer as Malcolm slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the morning sun. He couldn't help noticing that his blanket was missing. "This bed is hard," he said. He looked down and noticed ground instead of his bed. "What happened?"

"We're lost," Dewey said as he began to cry.

"You're too old to cry, Dewey," Malcolm said, and Dewey stopped. "What do you mean we're lost? Where are we?" Then he stared past Dewey at the tall man with pointed ears. He was also staring at the tree the man was leaning against, which was where the bedroom door should have been. Without looking away, he hit his older brother, saying, "Reese, the house is gone."

"What?" Reese said, jumping up. "They stole our house," he shouted. Less assuredly he added, "they must have stolen the whole neighborhood." Then he smiled.

"What the hell are you smiling about," Malcolm asked in amazement, "our house is gone along with everything else."

"Exactly," Reese said with authority, "and everything else includes Mom and Dad."

"That's right," Dewey chimed in, "We can do whatever we want."

All three brothers smiled.

"We've got a couple of problems, first," Malcolm said, "We don't know where we are, we don't have any money, and we're standing in the middle of the woods in our underwear."

"I'm wearing pajamas," Dewey volunteered.

"Not for long if you don't shut up." Reese threatened, then turned back to Malcolm. "Should we panic?"

THAT is an excellent idea.

"We'd better not. That guy is watching."

"Which one?"

Malcolm turned around to see several men watching them now. "The guy with the pointed ears."

Reese looked the men over, carefully. "They all have pointed ears."

"Cool. Vulcans," Dewey said, then turned to the closest man with his hand raised appropriately and said, "Live long and prosper."

The man smiled, bowed politely, and said, "Mae Govannon, Mellon."

"I don't think he's a Vulcan," Malcolm said, "I don't remember them using bows and arrows."

"Let's ask him," Reese said, then cautioned his brothers, "first, let's see if he understands us." He looked up and asked, "Mister, do you speak English?"

The elf thought briefly, then said, "I'm sorry. I have never heard of that language before. I do not think I can help you."

"This is great," Reese yelled, throwing up his arms. "We're in the middle of nowhere, and the first person we meet doesn't understand anything we say."

Malcolm stared quizzically at Reese, then looked at Dewey who merely shrugged his shoulders.

I know Reese is slow, but that was really stupid.

"Excuse me," Malcolm said.

"Yes?" the elf answered with amusement.

"You do understand us. Don't you?"

"I understand the tongue you speak, if that is what you mean. But I am not sure if I understand the three of you. What are the children of man doing alone in the wilds of the forest?"

"We don't know," Malcolm admitted, "but this is all . . . uh . . . The children of Man?"

"You are man-children. Are you not?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I'm confused. Um, I'm Malcolm, by the way."

"Well met, Malcolm. I am called Galdor by my people. And who is this young man who greeted me so formally."

"That's my brother Dewey."

"Are you a Vulcan?" Dewey asked.

"No," Galdor replied with another smile, "my people are known to your race as elves. I hope you are not disappointed."

"Elves?" Reese said sarcastically. "You're pretty big for an elf, and I don't see any wings, either."

"Reese, you jerk," Malcolm responded, "Those are fairies. Elves don't have wings."

"Don't call me a jerk, Malcolm. You're the one talking to the elf, and he doesn't even speak English."

"Reese, you heard what he said," Malcolm retorted, "It's obvious we speak the same language."

"I knew that," Reese said, unsurely.

"May I make an offer to you?" Galdor said, interrupting the brothers. "We are near to the halls of Thranduil, which I think is fortunate for you. If you wish to join us, we will see that you are fed and properly clothed. Afterward, if conditions permit, we will help you to return to your homes."

"How close are we?" Malcolm asked.

"A journey of only two days," Galdor said, then frowned at the groans he received.

"I am not walking around in my underwear for two days," Reese said sternly.

"Um, Reese," Malcolm said, taking his brother aside, "I don't think you have much of a choice."

"Of course I have a choice."

"And your choices are?"

"Okay, so I don't have any choices," Reese said, then paused for a minute. "Pick up the phone and let's get going."

"What phone?"

"This one," Reese said picking up the phone that Malcolm had been using the night before. "Hey, we could call someone. I'll call Mom. No, I'll call Dad."

"What if Mom answers?"

"Oh Right. Then who can we call."

"Francis," all three boys answered together.

"The line's busy," Reese said shortly.

"That's the only number we have for the logging camp he works at," Malcolm pointed out. "We'll try again later."

Dutifully, all three boys followed the elf on what was to be an arduous journey.

"I learned a new word," Dewey said, as he picked his way across the stony ground.

"Do you mean 'Arduous?'" Malcolm asked.

"No, I mean the third word that Reese used after he stepped on that last rock."

"I don't think that was a real word, but it sounded pretty good."

*

"That was an interesting story young Malcolm," Thranduil, the Elvin King exclaimed, "but you are right. It gives no clue as to how you came to be here. I regret that we will not be able to send you home, but I will do the next best thing. My son, Legolas, is going to Rivendell to speak in my name on matters of great importance. I will have you and your brothers accompany him. If I am correct, Mithrandril the wizard will be there. He is your best hope for an answer to your question."

"You see, Dewey," Malcolm whispered, "They're kicking us out of here. Next time, don't listen to Reese about starting a leaf collection."

"No, he isn't, and I can prove it," Dewey whispered, then turned to Thranduil and asked, "Can't we just stay here? This place is wonderful."

"I would like to let you stay," Thranduil answered, "but you should know that there are dark things moving. I cannot guarantee your safety."

"Rivendell sounds great," Dewey replied, then whispered to Malcolm. "You were right."

"I got through," Reese said suddenly, and handed the phone to Malcolm after talking briefly with Francis. Thranduil and his entire court watched and listened as Malcolm spoke into this amazing artifact.

*

"HEY, College Boy," Lavernia hollered, "You've got a phone call. Make it quick."

Francis muttered several remarks of thanks toward whoever called him, and walked to the phone. "Hello."

"Francis. This is Reese. We're in trouble. Deep Trouble. We need you to tell us where we are."

"Reese, you're not making any sense. Who's with you?"

"Malcolm and Dewey. It's really weird, Francis, but the food's great."

"And you're not home?"

"No, the house disappeared about three days ago."

"Reese, could you put Malcolm on the phone?" Francis asked, giving a sigh of relief when Malcolm answered.

"Francis, it's me, Malcolm."

"Malcolm, where are you?"

"Um . . . right now? We're in the palace of Thranduil, the Elvin King. Does that help?"

"Are you guys at a theme park?"

"Francis, listen. This is not a joke. We woke up three days ago in the middle of a forest. We had to walk forty miles in our underwear with some ugly green guys taking pot shots at us just for the fun of it. That's all I know. The King just told us he was going to send us to some place called Rivendell, but I have no idea where that is."

Francis paused in thought. "That name sounds familiar. What's the weather like? You could be in Canada."

"This is definitely not Canada," Malcolm assured his brother.

"Hey," Francis called out to the guys hanging around, "does anybody know where Rivendell is?"

"Canada, I think," someone said.

"Did you say Rivendell?" old Pete asked, "I read about it. That's where Archie and Jughead live."

"That's Riverdale, Pete."

"Same thing. It's a small town."

"Thanks, Pete," Francis said in a level voice, then talked to Malcolm. "Okay. This is the story. Nobody here was able to help. That's the good news. By the way, how did you manage to get to a phone."

"It's the house phone," Malcolm answered. "I guess I fell asleep with it, and it came along."

"And it works?"

"Yeah."

"Have you tried calling anyone else?"

"Stevie's out of town until the weekend. I think he's at a funeral. There isn't anybody else worth calling"

"Have you tried calling Mom or Dad?"

"Would you?"

"Of course not. I was just making sure. As long as they don't know what's going on, you're safe."

"Francis, we don't even know what's going on."

"Malcolm, don't worry. I've got a plan. I'll make a few phone calls and get back to you. What time is it where you are?"

"It's daylight, that's all I know."

"Don't you have a watch?"

"Yeah, but I don't sleep with the watch on. It's probably still at the house."

"OK, you don't sleep with a watch, but you sleep with a phone. Are you feeling okay?"

"It's because of a girl."

"That makes sense. I'll call you back with what I can find out. Try calling some of your friends, anyway."

*

"Tell me . . . again," Stevie said, "you are . . . WHERE?"

"We're near the Misty Mountains on our way to Rivendell," Malcolm explained.

"Riven . . . dell? As in . . . the book?"

"What book?"

"The book . . . we're supposed . . . to read for . . . class." Stevie rolled his eyes as he talked into the phone. This was an extremely unusual conversation he was having and, considering Malcolm and his family, that was saying a great deal.

"I never read that book. It disappeared along with the house."

"You are . . . in . . . deep trouble," Stevie said. "Do you know . . . about . . . the orcs?"

Let me guess. This isn't going to be good.

"Are they green?"

Stevie sighed. He had Malcolm imagine what Reese would be like if his parents encouraged his worst instincts. Then he had Malcolm imagine what Reese would be like if he had access to sharp objects, like swords. "Those are . . . orcs," Stevie explained. "There are . . . thousands . . . of them in . . . those mountains."

I hate being right.

"Stevie, do you have any idea how we can get out of here?"

"I have . . . no idea . . . how you got . . . there. Call me . . . if you get . . . to Rivendell," Stevie said. "I'll finish . . . the book . . . and tell you . . . what happens."

"What do you mean IF?"

After Malcolm finished with the phone, Legolas Greenleaf approached. "Was your conversation helpful, my young friend?"

"It's weird," Malcolm admitted. "According to Stevie, this whole world is from a story in a book I was supposed to read for class."

"A book? Do you mean a history?"

"No, it's supposed to be a fantasy about this great war between good and evil."

Legolas gave the boy a bemused smile. "A fantasy is not real, young Malcolm, yet you and your brothers are here. How does the story end?"

"I think the good guys win, but I never got the chance to read the book."

"Does the book have a name?"

"Yeah, Lord of the Rings."

Legolas paled when he heard the title. "You have told me much in these few words, Malcolm. I fear I now know why we journey so quickly. I hope the book you speak of was written truly because if you are right the war you speak of will indeed be great. And it is a war we cannot afford to lose. We will have many questions for your friend when we reach the House of Elrond."

"Uh, Mister Legolas, I don't know how much longer I can use the phone. I don't have any way to recharge the battery, and I don't know how long it will last. I'll need to know what to ask Stevie."

"If your friend has read this book, he will know what information we need. Also, Malcolm, I consider your arrival a blessing. Already we know what we are facing. That, in itself, is of great value. Please excuse me. I must discuss this with my companions."

Malcolm nodded, and walked over to where one of the elves was trying to teach Reese and Dewey the basics of swordplay.

You know, I think we need to learn this really fast.

"What did Stevie say?" Reese asked.

"We're in trouble," Malcolm said.

Reese looked at Malcolm's face and turned to the elf and said, "I've changed my mind. Could you show me that move again?"