Author's Notes: Hey! Thanks again for everyone's support!
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Chapter 2: Do You Believe Me Now?
I opened my front door that evening, just as the sun was setting and the sky was a variety of colours. Purples and pinks were strewn across the horizon carelessly like a 5 year old finger painting I used to do. Most often they were the sunsets by Rivendell or Lothlorien, as I was a huge Tolkien fanatic. It was rooted in my father completely. Jonathan Frederick, beloved husband of Margot Bethany, and father of Keegan George, Delaney Bettina, Willimina (Willy) Jessica, and Porscha Yvonne. I have no idea what kind of drugs my parents were on when they named us. Honestly. Delaney? What 40's sitcom did they decide to interpret when they were naming their children. I admit Porscha isn't so bad. But Willimina and Delaney? I guess I had to be happy my mother didn't let father name us. I could have grown up as Arwen or Eowyn. But my brother being called Legolas would have been funny. It would have given me a more legitimate reason to make fun of him.
My house is three stories, but it's small. I have a loft, which I'm very happy for, and a circular bedroom, but other then that, I guess it's just home. There's a small foyer, leading up to a set of wooden stairs to the upper levels and, of course, the loft. The loft looks over the kitchen and the dining room, and then reaches into and over the living room where the fabled mantle is and the legendary box set lies. I dropped my bag to the ground carelessly and slide my shoes off next to it, hanging my coat on the wall hook. Glancing at my watch, I decided I no longer had the energy to cook. Flippantly I had a urge for pizza, and an urge for pizza from me is impossible to resist. I grabbed the phone off the wall.
I live alone in the old family house. Yes, it's a little sad that I've lived her all my life, but my mother gave me good price on it and I'm only a reporter. How the hell can I afford something else? Besides, there's a lot of memory in this house. There's my father's library which is left of the 'Entrance Hall'. It's locked, a useless room. I don't think I've ever gone inside in my 5 years of living alone. I carry the key on my keyring, and I figure I will go inside eventually, but I'll probably be in a wheelchair and just glance at it before leaving. There's also the Measuring Frame, where my parents would take our heights every year. You can smell the memory in this house. Sometimes it smells like my mother's apple pie, other times, it smells like my father's musty book collections. Either way, it's either a good thing or a bad thing I still reside in the house where my father died.
I walked into the living room and checked my messages, receiving four from Edith who wanted me to go with her to see Lord of the Rings again. I called her back and reminded her that I have a life. She gave me some comment about my bad luck with men, saying something about being frigid and repressed. I laughed at that, hanging up.
I was waiting for pizza when I looked at them again. They were on the mantle, all of them. It was the entire Tolkien collection, ranging from The Lord of the Rings box set with The Hobbit to Farmer Giles of Ham (another of my father's personal favourites). It could hear and taste their memories. Listening to my father opening them carefully in the hallway. I think I could even hear him praying for them sometimes, speaking in soft tones. He would sit there, looking through his glasses, his knees pressed up to his chest and the book resting in her giant palms on his legs. He'd read slowly, allowing Willy and I to take in everything. He'd read some parts fast, just so we'd feel like we were there. I remember when he was reading Helm's Deep he actually took those giant rolls of wrapping paper and left the paper in a heap on the floor, while using the tubes as swords and allowing us to fight him off. Mom was pretty ticked about that.
I walked over to the mantle and picked up the frail cover of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Turning to the first page of the old book I found the prophecy, the inscription.
I jumped when the doorbell rang. Angrily I shoved the book back on the fireplace. Stupid me, I thought, and left them there, to be decorations once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The second appearance of the man was the very next day, and I was again in my office putting the finishing touches on my article. I heard the shouts outside and immediately recognized the smell of cologne. My door burst open and I was on me feet, instinctively. The man, who had shaved, was followed by two guards. He fought them off more viciously that day. I called out.
"Stop." I said loudly. "Don't worry." The two guards backed off, walking out of the room but I saw them stay within earshot. The man closed the door. He had shaved, and his odd facial hair was now only bristles. Without it he was actually kind of cute. His hair was dark and curly, hanging in almost dreadlocks. That day he didn't drop into my chair. He handed me the bag.
"There." He said. I opened the bag. "Proof." I had to admit he was persistant, and the item in the bag rolled into my hand. There was a golden tiara in the palm of my hand, curling and twisting. It looked exactly like a prop from within the movies, and obviously looked like it was from Middle Earth. Spiteful and cynicall Delaney decided to show up at that moment.
"Wow." The bitch part of me said, looking at the tiara. "You buy Arwen's crown off E-Bay and I'm supposed to follow you into the woods." That was when I really came back, shoving the crown into the bag and handed it back to the gentleman in my office. "I've got better things to do then chase Liv Tyler. Go..."
"Don't you dare good day me!" He said, shaking the bag. "I nearly got my head blown off by elven archers before I reappeared in this world! This is not some E-Bay prop this is real. Look at it!"
"Look." I said, spinning my moniter around and showing him the page I loaded. It was E-Bay matches for Lord of the Rings. "You can get it online. I don't believe in movie props now will you please LEAVE ME ALONE?"
"I can't."
"Why not?" I demanded of him. He took a deep breath.
"Because I know that you like the books too. Please." He was begging now, and him wearing Axe cologne was making it hard to resist the pleas of the innocent guy in my office. "Just come with me. I'm asking for ten minutes. Come to the park and come back here. Damn it I'm not making this up!" I looked at him strangely, cocking my head to the right. I remember when my father did this to me and my sisters when we didn't make any sense.
"Who said I like the books?" I askes surprised. He shrugged.
"Dunno. Just thought you did." I sighed, a little frightened of him. I finally spun my moniter back around. I groaned.
"Look I'm not going to go to some park because you bring me some weird movie prop." I snapped at him. He dropped his arm to his side and groaned louder.
"This isn't a movie prop!" He shouted at me, trying to get it through my head. "This is a real live genuine Elven crown that I stole when I was transported into Rivendell and was nearly killed by hundreds of elves. Do you like that?" I suddenly pounded on my desk.
"Fine!" I shouted at him. "I'll come. 10 minutes and I'm gone. If I see something, I'll write the damn article but if I don't...you can never EVER bother me again. Okay?" He smiled and nodded. I took a deep breath. "Christ. You are so annoying!"
"It got you to believe me didn't it?"
"I never said I believed you." I spat back at him. "I said I'd go, but that doesn't mean I believe you."
"Understood." He replied. "And if you don't find anything-which you will-I'll never bother you again. Sounds good to me." I grabbed my black trenchcoat off the hook on the wall. It was a chilly, overcats day, the ones that never rain but look like it from sun up to sun down. I buttoned up the front of it and grabbed by 6 foot scarf off the opposite hook.
"Let's go." I said angrily. "I have an ariticle due."
"Understood." He said. "By the way, I'm Tobias."
"Delaney." I said coldly. "Come on."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: Do You Believe Me Now?
I opened my front door that evening, just as the sun was setting and the sky was a variety of colours. Purples and pinks were strewn across the horizon carelessly like a 5 year old finger painting I used to do. Most often they were the sunsets by Rivendell or Lothlorien, as I was a huge Tolkien fanatic. It was rooted in my father completely. Jonathan Frederick, beloved husband of Margot Bethany, and father of Keegan George, Delaney Bettina, Willimina (Willy) Jessica, and Porscha Yvonne. I have no idea what kind of drugs my parents were on when they named us. Honestly. Delaney? What 40's sitcom did they decide to interpret when they were naming their children. I admit Porscha isn't so bad. But Willimina and Delaney? I guess I had to be happy my mother didn't let father name us. I could have grown up as Arwen or Eowyn. But my brother being called Legolas would have been funny. It would have given me a more legitimate reason to make fun of him.
My house is three stories, but it's small. I have a loft, which I'm very happy for, and a circular bedroom, but other then that, I guess it's just home. There's a small foyer, leading up to a set of wooden stairs to the upper levels and, of course, the loft. The loft looks over the kitchen and the dining room, and then reaches into and over the living room where the fabled mantle is and the legendary box set lies. I dropped my bag to the ground carelessly and slide my shoes off next to it, hanging my coat on the wall hook. Glancing at my watch, I decided I no longer had the energy to cook. Flippantly I had a urge for pizza, and an urge for pizza from me is impossible to resist. I grabbed the phone off the wall.
I live alone in the old family house. Yes, it's a little sad that I've lived her all my life, but my mother gave me good price on it and I'm only a reporter. How the hell can I afford something else? Besides, there's a lot of memory in this house. There's my father's library which is left of the 'Entrance Hall'. It's locked, a useless room. I don't think I've ever gone inside in my 5 years of living alone. I carry the key on my keyring, and I figure I will go inside eventually, but I'll probably be in a wheelchair and just glance at it before leaving. There's also the Measuring Frame, where my parents would take our heights every year. You can smell the memory in this house. Sometimes it smells like my mother's apple pie, other times, it smells like my father's musty book collections. Either way, it's either a good thing or a bad thing I still reside in the house where my father died.
I walked into the living room and checked my messages, receiving four from Edith who wanted me to go with her to see Lord of the Rings again. I called her back and reminded her that I have a life. She gave me some comment about my bad luck with men, saying something about being frigid and repressed. I laughed at that, hanging up.
I was waiting for pizza when I looked at them again. They were on the mantle, all of them. It was the entire Tolkien collection, ranging from The Lord of the Rings box set with The Hobbit to Farmer Giles of Ham (another of my father's personal favourites). It could hear and taste their memories. Listening to my father opening them carefully in the hallway. I think I could even hear him praying for them sometimes, speaking in soft tones. He would sit there, looking through his glasses, his knees pressed up to his chest and the book resting in her giant palms on his legs. He'd read slowly, allowing Willy and I to take in everything. He'd read some parts fast, just so we'd feel like we were there. I remember when he was reading Helm's Deep he actually took those giant rolls of wrapping paper and left the paper in a heap on the floor, while using the tubes as swords and allowing us to fight him off. Mom was pretty ticked about that.
I walked over to the mantle and picked up the frail cover of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Turning to the first page of the old book I found the prophecy, the inscription.
I jumped when the doorbell rang. Angrily I shoved the book back on the fireplace. Stupid me, I thought, and left them there, to be decorations once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The second appearance of the man was the very next day, and I was again in my office putting the finishing touches on my article. I heard the shouts outside and immediately recognized the smell of cologne. My door burst open and I was on me feet, instinctively. The man, who had shaved, was followed by two guards. He fought them off more viciously that day. I called out.
"Stop." I said loudly. "Don't worry." The two guards backed off, walking out of the room but I saw them stay within earshot. The man closed the door. He had shaved, and his odd facial hair was now only bristles. Without it he was actually kind of cute. His hair was dark and curly, hanging in almost dreadlocks. That day he didn't drop into my chair. He handed me the bag.
"There." He said. I opened the bag. "Proof." I had to admit he was persistant, and the item in the bag rolled into my hand. There was a golden tiara in the palm of my hand, curling and twisting. It looked exactly like a prop from within the movies, and obviously looked like it was from Middle Earth. Spiteful and cynicall Delaney decided to show up at that moment.
"Wow." The bitch part of me said, looking at the tiara. "You buy Arwen's crown off E-Bay and I'm supposed to follow you into the woods." That was when I really came back, shoving the crown into the bag and handed it back to the gentleman in my office. "I've got better things to do then chase Liv Tyler. Go..."
"Don't you dare good day me!" He said, shaking the bag. "I nearly got my head blown off by elven archers before I reappeared in this world! This is not some E-Bay prop this is real. Look at it!"
"Look." I said, spinning my moniter around and showing him the page I loaded. It was E-Bay matches for Lord of the Rings. "You can get it online. I don't believe in movie props now will you please LEAVE ME ALONE?"
"I can't."
"Why not?" I demanded of him. He took a deep breath.
"Because I know that you like the books too. Please." He was begging now, and him wearing Axe cologne was making it hard to resist the pleas of the innocent guy in my office. "Just come with me. I'm asking for ten minutes. Come to the park and come back here. Damn it I'm not making this up!" I looked at him strangely, cocking my head to the right. I remember when my father did this to me and my sisters when we didn't make any sense.
"Who said I like the books?" I askes surprised. He shrugged.
"Dunno. Just thought you did." I sighed, a little frightened of him. I finally spun my moniter back around. I groaned.
"Look I'm not going to go to some park because you bring me some weird movie prop." I snapped at him. He dropped his arm to his side and groaned louder.
"This isn't a movie prop!" He shouted at me, trying to get it through my head. "This is a real live genuine Elven crown that I stole when I was transported into Rivendell and was nearly killed by hundreds of elves. Do you like that?" I suddenly pounded on my desk.
"Fine!" I shouted at him. "I'll come. 10 minutes and I'm gone. If I see something, I'll write the damn article but if I don't...you can never EVER bother me again. Okay?" He smiled and nodded. I took a deep breath. "Christ. You are so annoying!"
"It got you to believe me didn't it?"
"I never said I believed you." I spat back at him. "I said I'd go, but that doesn't mean I believe you."
"Understood." He replied. "And if you don't find anything-which you will-I'll never bother you again. Sounds good to me." I grabbed my black trenchcoat off the hook on the wall. It was a chilly, overcats day, the ones that never rain but look like it from sun up to sun down. I buttoned up the front of it and grabbed by 6 foot scarf off the opposite hook.
"Let's go." I said angrily. "I have an ariticle due."
"Understood." He said. "By the way, I'm Tobias."
"Delaney." I said coldly. "Come on."