To O. B. I. M. : I have only been putting this up for two days, so don't get mad with me. This stuff is going to happen...I promise! I had to set the scene first anyway.

That was written a while ago. My browser wouldn't let me put up new chapters for ages. Sorry. Are you hanging on to my every word? Nice to know someone is. You've made my day!

(A/N) Sorry, I don't speak Sindarin. Anyone who does, review me with the translations and I'll use them. Quenya is better than nothing. Also, I have just realised this has a Mary-Sue character. Please don't flame just for that. Otherwise, I love flames! I use them to make toast and marshmallows in winter. Mmm...toasted marshmallows...

Anyway...

Sorry, forgot the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: The Voices idea in Chapter One: Des Mots Qui Resonnent is from the book Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones. Glorfindel the Elf-Lord is Tolkien's. Tara is a work of fiction and bears no intentional resemblance to any person, living or dead. She is also mine (Yay! I own something!) I also own the story, although some parts were inspired by His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman and by John Ronald Ruel Tolkien. Nothing so far though.

Chapter Two: Comme Une Ombre



Like A Shadow

When Tara was fifteen, she was knocked to the ground by a joyrider on a motorcycle. She stopped hearing her voices.

When Tara was twenty-five, she was at University. She was due a top degree in English in a year.

She had a job and her own flat in Bristol at the age of 27.

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It was four o'clock in the morning. Tara was jolted awake. She heard a call in the street. Nothing unusual, drunks were often found on her street totally out of it. But this voice was not drunk. It was speaking in Elvish.

Tara rubbed her eyes. Was she dreaming? No. You never asked yourself if you were asleep in dreams.

She looked out her window.

She had to be dreaming.

But the really serious Tolkiennites, they didn't dress up as Elves, get drunk and then get to her area, did they? Was the man drunk?

Only one way to find out.

She leaned out of her window, and called softly. Luckily, she knew a few phrases of Sindarin.

"Shh. Come over here."

The man whirled around.

"What is your name?"

"Tara. What is yours?"

"Glorfindel. Where am I?"

"Bristol."

"Glorfindel" didn't recognise the name. But he seemed harmless enough, so Tara went downstairs and went out onto the street.

"Tara!"

"Sshh! People will hear you. Do you have a horse?"

"Glorfindel" nodded and a white horse -Asfaloth?- complete with trappings, trotted towards them.

"We have to get out of here and hide your horse. If people see you, they'll think you're crazy."

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Somehow Tara managed to smuggle the horse to the stable where she kept her own horse and was at the top of her own street when she heard a noise behind her. She whirled round and collided with "Glorfindel". He caught her as she fell and helped her up...

...when she noticed a pair of long, pale, pointed ears.

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Ooooh! Cliffhanger! Funfunfun! Next chapter coming soon! Only I know exactly what happens!

PS: Anyone reading this, there will be a lot of cliffhangers during this story! I love torturing people! So please review and tell me you want to know what happens or I will pine away and die of a broken heart! You will be a murderer!