Chapter 2: Legolas Comes Out of the Closet?!
June 10
I'm still pinching myself to see if all of this is real. Just last night, I was scoffing at the stupid, fish-out-of-Middle Earth stories I was reading, and this morning...well, I better start at the beginning.
I swore to myself when I woke up at 8:00 that I'd have a much more productive day today than I did yesterday, and I went down to stir the paint to paint my new guestroom upstairs. A really nice midnight blue--oh, but I digress. I knew I wanted to take the closet door off in there, as it's an antique and all, and I didn't want to get paint all over it. It was as I unhinged the door that I realized I might have gotten more than I bargained for in this house.
He leaped out at me, bow drawn, an arrow just inches from my nose. I must confess, I screamed--after all, one isn't accosted by bogeymen in one's own house every day. It was when he put the bow aside and sighed, "Sweet Eru--not again!" that I realized this was going to be an...interesting day.
I didn't even bother with the "you're a fictional character and cannot possibly be here" speech I'd read a thousand times last night on the net. Why bother? It wasn't as if he was going to go, "Oh, yes, terribly sorry," and disappear or anything. So, I simply said, "This is a regular occurrence? Popping out of my closet?"
"Not *your* closet, specifically," Legolas--for there was no mistaking this elf--answered. "Actually, not even closets, generally. Most every other occasion, I have come out of the television during a rather violent electrical storm. That is very uncomfortable, you can imagine."
"I suppose it would be," I answered. And all the while, I'm thinking, *Great--I get a magic portal to Middle Earth, the envy of every teenaged girl, and all that comes out of it is a poncy elf. Shouldn't these things adjust for their owners' tastes or something?* So I wanted to let the elf down gently, and I said, " Well, it's nice of you to pop in and all, but I can't really see any use I'd have for having you here. Unless you want to help me paint?"
His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You do not, perchance, have a teenaged daughter lurking about here, do you?"
I have to admit, I was a tad offended at that. I know I'm not a spring chicken here, but I couldn't possibly look that old. "No, I most certainly don't. Nor do I have the tastes of one, so as I was saying--"
"You are not going to jump me, molest me, call me sickeningly sweet pet names or take me to the *mall*?" He spat the last with such distaste that I gathered he's been there countless times already.
"Um...no. But I could use help with the painting, if you're not in a hurry."
"This is the best trip to your world I can recall!" Legolas shouted gleefully, clapping me on the back. "The portals are usually defunct for anywhere from six hours to ten days after we are thrown through them, so I suppose the least I can do for you is to paint until it opens up again. The others are not going to believe that I got away so unscathed this time."
Something in his offhanded manner made me shiver a bit there. "Others?"
"We all face this dilemma of getting pulled to your world now and again--some more than others." He then added with chagrin, " Me, more than most. I cannot begin to describe to you the tortures I have experienced here."
I could only imagine poor Legolas, stripped of more of his dignity with each shopping mall, fast-food restaurant, and amusement park he was dragged to. "Well, the worst I'll ask of you is a little help with the painting. See, I just bought this house...."
To make a long story short, by ten that evening, my guestroom and half the master bedroom were painted, and I was waving a cheery goodbye to the prince of Mirkwood as he stepped gingerly back into the closet from whence he'd come. I imagine that's the end of this whole mess; the portal is closed, and I'm on my own again.
Lisa
*******
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please note, it is the character who thinks elves are "poncy," not the authors. Rose, in fact, quite likes them.
June 10
I'm still pinching myself to see if all of this is real. Just last night, I was scoffing at the stupid, fish-out-of-Middle Earth stories I was reading, and this morning...well, I better start at the beginning.
I swore to myself when I woke up at 8:00 that I'd have a much more productive day today than I did yesterday, and I went down to stir the paint to paint my new guestroom upstairs. A really nice midnight blue--oh, but I digress. I knew I wanted to take the closet door off in there, as it's an antique and all, and I didn't want to get paint all over it. It was as I unhinged the door that I realized I might have gotten more than I bargained for in this house.
He leaped out at me, bow drawn, an arrow just inches from my nose. I must confess, I screamed--after all, one isn't accosted by bogeymen in one's own house every day. It was when he put the bow aside and sighed, "Sweet Eru--not again!" that I realized this was going to be an...interesting day.
I didn't even bother with the "you're a fictional character and cannot possibly be here" speech I'd read a thousand times last night on the net. Why bother? It wasn't as if he was going to go, "Oh, yes, terribly sorry," and disappear or anything. So, I simply said, "This is a regular occurrence? Popping out of my closet?"
"Not *your* closet, specifically," Legolas--for there was no mistaking this elf--answered. "Actually, not even closets, generally. Most every other occasion, I have come out of the television during a rather violent electrical storm. That is very uncomfortable, you can imagine."
"I suppose it would be," I answered. And all the while, I'm thinking, *Great--I get a magic portal to Middle Earth, the envy of every teenaged girl, and all that comes out of it is a poncy elf. Shouldn't these things adjust for their owners' tastes or something?* So I wanted to let the elf down gently, and I said, " Well, it's nice of you to pop in and all, but I can't really see any use I'd have for having you here. Unless you want to help me paint?"
His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You do not, perchance, have a teenaged daughter lurking about here, do you?"
I have to admit, I was a tad offended at that. I know I'm not a spring chicken here, but I couldn't possibly look that old. "No, I most certainly don't. Nor do I have the tastes of one, so as I was saying--"
"You are not going to jump me, molest me, call me sickeningly sweet pet names or take me to the *mall*?" He spat the last with such distaste that I gathered he's been there countless times already.
"Um...no. But I could use help with the painting, if you're not in a hurry."
"This is the best trip to your world I can recall!" Legolas shouted gleefully, clapping me on the back. "The portals are usually defunct for anywhere from six hours to ten days after we are thrown through them, so I suppose the least I can do for you is to paint until it opens up again. The others are not going to believe that I got away so unscathed this time."
Something in his offhanded manner made me shiver a bit there. "Others?"
"We all face this dilemma of getting pulled to your world now and again--some more than others." He then added with chagrin, " Me, more than most. I cannot begin to describe to you the tortures I have experienced here."
I could only imagine poor Legolas, stripped of more of his dignity with each shopping mall, fast-food restaurant, and amusement park he was dragged to. "Well, the worst I'll ask of you is a little help with the painting. See, I just bought this house...."
To make a long story short, by ten that evening, my guestroom and half the master bedroom were painted, and I was waving a cheery goodbye to the prince of Mirkwood as he stepped gingerly back into the closet from whence he'd come. I imagine that's the end of this whole mess; the portal is closed, and I'm on my own again.
Lisa
*******
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please note, it is the character who thinks elves are "poncy," not the authors. Rose, in fact, quite likes them.