"So, Lady Candace - you don't mind if I call you thou, do you? - what
strange powers brought thee hither?" asked Mirwold as we sat around the
campfire watching my socks sizzle dry.
"Uh, Candace is fine," I said. "Just Candace."
"Indeed, I had mistaken you for an elf yourself had you not spoke as if it were otherwise. For indeed you are indeed the fairest creature upon which eye has been set upon these many fortnights."
I blinked, wondering what Mirwold was talking about. I was pretty sure that he had said something about me being beautiful. I've lived with my face for enough mornings to recognize that it is nowhere near elf- beautiful. He had to be kidding. Maybe he just hadn't seen anything even remotely female in months. But no, I reminded myself, guys in Middle Earth didn't think things like that, and they never, ever played practical jokes on other people. I decided that I must have been transformed into a beautiful elf-maiden on the trip over. It was the only rational explanation. I would definitely have to re-check the colour of my eyes when I ran into a mirror again. I moved to tuck my still short, possibly not still brown hair back behind my ears where it belonged. Just then, Englas made a strange suppressed choking noise and turned away. Was it my only imagination, or was Englas trying to hide a laugh? I glared at him.
"Alack," said Mirwold quickly, "Englas' lembas must have gone down the wrong way."
"You have lembas!" I gasped in excitement. "Where? Can I have some?"
"You must be tired, fairest Candace," Mirwold said. "Sleep now, and the morning will bring you many answers."
***
I have no idea how someone could possibly sleep with nothing but a blanket between her and the sweet earth below, with a purse for a pillow. I know I couldn't. So there I lay, looking at the ring on my finger wondering why I couldn't have landed in Rivendell itself, or even a nice, cozy bed in some nice, clean inn. I am not a camping person at all, something I probably should have considered before going to a place notorious for its long, epic journeys across miserable, icky terrain. There was a dead silence in the air filled only by the little voices in my head. The very, very annoying little voices in my head.
Candace, what is wrong with this scenario? I don't know. Elves, Rangers, beautiful scenery, beautiful me. No, I don't see anything wrong with this scenario at all. Candace, have you or have you not read Appendix F? Who are you casting aspersions on? Of course I have! You know perfectly well I have! You're inside my head, for the love of all that is good and beautiful! Candace, why could you understand what that guy over there was saying? Why is he speaking English to you when any language that you would understand is completely unknown in Middle Earth? Maybe it's the power of the ring. Very funny, Candace. If the ring really did give you the power to understand other languages, why would they sound so strange and incoherently archaic?
Suddenly I realized something. This particular little voice in my head was right. Rangers should not speak English. I sat up in blanket - it was not bed - and realized that Mirwold, Fadrornion and Englas were all staring at me from their various distances. "Is something amiss?" asked Mirwold.
"Yes," I said, very decidedly.
Mirwold gave me a somewhat shifty look. "What might that be?" he asked.
"Mirwold, or whoever you really are, I would like to know exactly how you learned English."
"English?" asked Mirwold innocently, "I speak no English. I'm speaking the common tongue."
"Aha! But you do know what it is! Admit it! You know what English is! And thus, you are speaking it!"
Mirwold was genuinely confused. "Runst thou that past me again, please?"
"English hasn't been invented yet, so how do you know what it is?"
"Ahhh, It must be the power of the ring," he said.
"The ring!" I exclaimed. "This is a conspiracy! You aren't really a Ranger, are you?"
"So I'm not a Ranger," snapped Mirwold angrily. "What about it?"
"You're a fraud, attempting to lead me astray with your hotness. Well, I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I see right through your little game, you know, you criminal crook!" I immediately regretted saying that. Mirwold didn't look too pleased.
"Did you just call me a crook?" growled Mirwold, and drew his sword.
This was definitely not a good thing. I was in serious trouble. It was a good thing that I was wielding a Ring of Power. Only, how exactly were you supposed to use the thing? Did you wave it around in the air chanting things? Did you concentrate really hard until you started glowing neon pink and emitting electricity-like noises? Why couldn't Tolkien have gone into detail about the way to actually use these rings, at least greater detail than a basic "don't try this at home, folks, or it will consume your soul and suck out your mind"? I panicked.
"My go van on!" I screamed to Fadrornion and Englas in my best elvish, "Melons mine! Uh, help me!" Fadrornion and Englas blinked uncomprehendingly. Knowing my luck, they were no more elves than Mirwold was. I was so dead.
Of course, I wasn't physically dead. If I was, it would be kind of hard for me to be telling this in the first person.
"Isljdsa, soi aoij lak sdfs," piped up Fadrornion just before things got really serious.
Mirwold turned around in surprise: "Isljdsa? Oapssd oier asdlk! Oapfi! Lasdn."
"Tasdn adjnf ko eo jasdn pasdj asdke oasne aow," pointed out Englas.
"Uhu. Oaspns awo owekjn," sighed Mirwold and turned to me. "My companion is right. It would be very uncivilized of me to kill a woman, lost and helpless and alone in the forest. It is a deed not worthy of me. Forgive my little outburst, I beg you, and all shall be revealed to you in the morning."
Wow. Great. Saved by. chauvinism. How comforting. Watching the movies had somehow made me forget how very limited a role women tended to play in the books. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was the only female creature that I could remember in the entire Hobbit. At least Mirwold had given up trying to sound archaic.
"There is one thing, though," said Mirwold very casually. "Since there is obviously no need to keep up pretenses any more with you, I'm going to have to ask you to give the ring back. I know you have it, and I know that's how you got here." I stared at him defiantly. Give up my precious? "So that I don't have to hack it off your hand myself," Mirwold continued, just as casually. Come to think of it, I never really liked the ring anyway.
"Thank you," said Mirwold, when the precious was safely in his pocket. "It's not safe for you to have that for any extended length of time. Does funny things to your head. Good-night, now, sleep tight, and don't let the giant spiders bite."
"Giant spiders on the way to Rivendell? There aren't any giant spiders near Rivendell!"
"Rivendell? What does Rivendell have to do with anything? We're on the edge of what I think you call Mirkwood." I groaned. This wasn't supposed to be happening! How could I run into the Fellowship in Mirkwood? What if I was stuck in The Hobbit, not LOTR at all? What if I was in some other time completely? Some boring time where nothing happened? This wasn't fair! How come everybody else got to fall straight into Legolas' campsite and not me? And here I was, I mentally whined, stuck in a huge ugly forest with a more than vaguely evil guy and his non-English-speaking companions. I probably hadn't even turned into an elf. This was the worst day of my life. Ever.
Although. Legolas. Mirkwood. But I had more important things to think about now, such as not getting killed by a crazed un-Ranger and his friends somewhere on the borders of Mirkwood. On the other hand, my whole day had probably been a dream, and in the morning I would wake up happily in my nice warm own bed. At least, that was what I was hoping.
"Uh, Candace is fine," I said. "Just Candace."
"Indeed, I had mistaken you for an elf yourself had you not spoke as if it were otherwise. For indeed you are indeed the fairest creature upon which eye has been set upon these many fortnights."
I blinked, wondering what Mirwold was talking about. I was pretty sure that he had said something about me being beautiful. I've lived with my face for enough mornings to recognize that it is nowhere near elf- beautiful. He had to be kidding. Maybe he just hadn't seen anything even remotely female in months. But no, I reminded myself, guys in Middle Earth didn't think things like that, and they never, ever played practical jokes on other people. I decided that I must have been transformed into a beautiful elf-maiden on the trip over. It was the only rational explanation. I would definitely have to re-check the colour of my eyes when I ran into a mirror again. I moved to tuck my still short, possibly not still brown hair back behind my ears where it belonged. Just then, Englas made a strange suppressed choking noise and turned away. Was it my only imagination, or was Englas trying to hide a laugh? I glared at him.
"Alack," said Mirwold quickly, "Englas' lembas must have gone down the wrong way."
"You have lembas!" I gasped in excitement. "Where? Can I have some?"
"You must be tired, fairest Candace," Mirwold said. "Sleep now, and the morning will bring you many answers."
***
I have no idea how someone could possibly sleep with nothing but a blanket between her and the sweet earth below, with a purse for a pillow. I know I couldn't. So there I lay, looking at the ring on my finger wondering why I couldn't have landed in Rivendell itself, or even a nice, cozy bed in some nice, clean inn. I am not a camping person at all, something I probably should have considered before going to a place notorious for its long, epic journeys across miserable, icky terrain. There was a dead silence in the air filled only by the little voices in my head. The very, very annoying little voices in my head.
Candace, what is wrong with this scenario? I don't know. Elves, Rangers, beautiful scenery, beautiful me. No, I don't see anything wrong with this scenario at all. Candace, have you or have you not read Appendix F? Who are you casting aspersions on? Of course I have! You know perfectly well I have! You're inside my head, for the love of all that is good and beautiful! Candace, why could you understand what that guy over there was saying? Why is he speaking English to you when any language that you would understand is completely unknown in Middle Earth? Maybe it's the power of the ring. Very funny, Candace. If the ring really did give you the power to understand other languages, why would they sound so strange and incoherently archaic?
Suddenly I realized something. This particular little voice in my head was right. Rangers should not speak English. I sat up in blanket - it was not bed - and realized that Mirwold, Fadrornion and Englas were all staring at me from their various distances. "Is something amiss?" asked Mirwold.
"Yes," I said, very decidedly.
Mirwold gave me a somewhat shifty look. "What might that be?" he asked.
"Mirwold, or whoever you really are, I would like to know exactly how you learned English."
"English?" asked Mirwold innocently, "I speak no English. I'm speaking the common tongue."
"Aha! But you do know what it is! Admit it! You know what English is! And thus, you are speaking it!"
Mirwold was genuinely confused. "Runst thou that past me again, please?"
"English hasn't been invented yet, so how do you know what it is?"
"Ahhh, It must be the power of the ring," he said.
"The ring!" I exclaimed. "This is a conspiracy! You aren't really a Ranger, are you?"
"So I'm not a Ranger," snapped Mirwold angrily. "What about it?"
"You're a fraud, attempting to lead me astray with your hotness. Well, I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I see right through your little game, you know, you criminal crook!" I immediately regretted saying that. Mirwold didn't look too pleased.
"Did you just call me a crook?" growled Mirwold, and drew his sword.
This was definitely not a good thing. I was in serious trouble. It was a good thing that I was wielding a Ring of Power. Only, how exactly were you supposed to use the thing? Did you wave it around in the air chanting things? Did you concentrate really hard until you started glowing neon pink and emitting electricity-like noises? Why couldn't Tolkien have gone into detail about the way to actually use these rings, at least greater detail than a basic "don't try this at home, folks, or it will consume your soul and suck out your mind"? I panicked.
"My go van on!" I screamed to Fadrornion and Englas in my best elvish, "Melons mine! Uh, help me!" Fadrornion and Englas blinked uncomprehendingly. Knowing my luck, they were no more elves than Mirwold was. I was so dead.
Of course, I wasn't physically dead. If I was, it would be kind of hard for me to be telling this in the first person.
"Isljdsa, soi aoij lak sdfs," piped up Fadrornion just before things got really serious.
Mirwold turned around in surprise: "Isljdsa? Oapssd oier asdlk! Oapfi! Lasdn."
"Tasdn adjnf ko eo jasdn pasdj asdke oasne aow," pointed out Englas.
"Uhu. Oaspns awo owekjn," sighed Mirwold and turned to me. "My companion is right. It would be very uncivilized of me to kill a woman, lost and helpless and alone in the forest. It is a deed not worthy of me. Forgive my little outburst, I beg you, and all shall be revealed to you in the morning."
Wow. Great. Saved by. chauvinism. How comforting. Watching the movies had somehow made me forget how very limited a role women tended to play in the books. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was the only female creature that I could remember in the entire Hobbit. At least Mirwold had given up trying to sound archaic.
"There is one thing, though," said Mirwold very casually. "Since there is obviously no need to keep up pretenses any more with you, I'm going to have to ask you to give the ring back. I know you have it, and I know that's how you got here." I stared at him defiantly. Give up my precious? "So that I don't have to hack it off your hand myself," Mirwold continued, just as casually. Come to think of it, I never really liked the ring anyway.
"Thank you," said Mirwold, when the precious was safely in his pocket. "It's not safe for you to have that for any extended length of time. Does funny things to your head. Good-night, now, sleep tight, and don't let the giant spiders bite."
"Giant spiders on the way to Rivendell? There aren't any giant spiders near Rivendell!"
"Rivendell? What does Rivendell have to do with anything? We're on the edge of what I think you call Mirkwood." I groaned. This wasn't supposed to be happening! How could I run into the Fellowship in Mirkwood? What if I was stuck in The Hobbit, not LOTR at all? What if I was in some other time completely? Some boring time where nothing happened? This wasn't fair! How come everybody else got to fall straight into Legolas' campsite and not me? And here I was, I mentally whined, stuck in a huge ugly forest with a more than vaguely evil guy and his non-English-speaking companions. I probably hadn't even turned into an elf. This was the worst day of my life. Ever.
Although. Legolas. Mirkwood. But I had more important things to think about now, such as not getting killed by a crazed un-Ranger and his friends somewhere on the borders of Mirkwood. On the other hand, my whole day had probably been a dream, and in the morning I would wake up happily in my nice warm own bed. At least, that was what I was hoping.