Dumbledalf had ended the confusing Council by promising to have Elrond and Yoda fill in a few (meaning waaaaaay) more details at breakfast the next morning. While some people, like Paula and Gimli, were content just at the prospect of a V.I.P.-only meal, the others still had a ton of unanswered questions… like who were the people in Yoda's entourage? They hadn't said a thing the entire meal.
The night was a late and uneasy one for many.
Aragorn, for instance, spent the night tossing and turning… but not in thought. There really can't be any more details than that, though, because, well… remember who's not in this story? Sorry for the mental image.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gimli emerged from the bathroom in his and Legolas's room (literally bathroom. It only had a bath.) with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Legolas immediately covered his eyes. Sometimes that elven eyesight is just a little too keen. "Ugh. Gimli. Please."
"What?" Gimli asked growlingly. "Do you not think that this is better than having me smell of rotting orc carcasses and horses?"
Legolas nodded waveringly in grudging agreement, his hand still over his eyes. "Wellll… I suppose I will give you that much…"
"Besides!" Gimli boomed in rather high spirits. "I only came out to ask you what I should wash my beard with. It has gotten quite frizzy since the last time we departed from Rivendell."
"Frizzy? A son of the earth is worried about frizz?" Legolas, a little bitter about the amount of time that Ron had spent around that creepy-eyed girl at the Council, was growing rather mocking of his best friend.
Gimli tried another tactic. "I only ask because your hair is always so perfect, Legolas. To tell you the truth, if you only had a beard, I would be quite envious of your looks."
Fingering a lock of his own flaxen hair, Legolas slowly smiled. "Thank you, Gimli. Many people have always told me I was beautiful…" Seeing the way Gimli was looking at him, Legolas quickly left his hair alone. "Yes… you are looking a bit frizzy. I did not notice so much when your smell was so overpowering. It was difficult to get beyond that." He pulled the bouquet of wildflowers that the elves had left in the room out of their vase. He crushed them with his own hands, mixed in a little bit of water, and slowly worked the mixture into Gimli's beard.
As he rubbed it in, Gimli started making… noises. "Ahhhh. Uhhhh. Ohhhh. Legolas, what is this? Ohhhh. It is incredible! Yes! Yes! YES!"
Legolas finished quickly, quite embarrassed. "Go wash it out, Gimli. I call it… Herbal Essences."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laura laughed brightly as she finally took the time to read the piece of parchment that Harry had dropped into her lap just before the Council erupted in mayhem. It read, quite simply: "Laura- Sit with me at breakfast? My friends are insane. Write back. Harry."
She didn't see what good writing back could possibly do, since the next time they'd meet would be at breakfast itself, and by then her answer would be apparent, but with the giddiness that always comes with the beginnings of a crush, she asked Emily to borrow a pen.
"Sure," Emily said distractedly from where she lay on her bed, arms behind her head, just thinking. "There should be one right in my backpack. Hang on."
"No no, Beanz. I'll get it!" Laura laughed, dancing her way over to the backpack and retrieving a pen.
"I'm going to go see where they put Ali and Nellie and Jocie, okay?" Emily asked, yawning.
"Uh-huh. Yep. Have fun!" Laura called happily as Emily closed the door behind her. "Writing back is kind of pointless," she told herself out loud, bouncing a little on the bed, "but he asked me to…" She giggled as it dawned upon her what to write.
Pen in hand, Laura scrawled, "I looooooove you!!" under Harry's message.
Much to her surprise, both Harry's note and her silly reply vanished into the parchment, and soon an angry-looking communication appeared in a handwriting Laura didn't recognize saying, "EVERYONE ALWAYS LOVES HARRY. HARRY HARRY HARRY BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!"
That too quickly vanished, and a saner looking message in Harry's writing took its place. "Er… sorry about that. Ron got a hold of that one. He's a bit angry right now."
"What is this? I'm confused! Is it like Tom Riddle's diary?"
"Sort of. Similar enchantment, except that it's not evil, it's not preserving my life, and we're writing exactly like we would if we did this by owl post, only cutting out the travel time."
"Cool. So it's like wizard instant messaging? Or wait… do you know what that is?"
"I know what it is. My cousin Dudley's always on it."
"This is more fun anyway." Laura smiled at the parchment, the way many people smile at their computer screens.
"I know. Now that I think of it, though, how did you know about Tom Riddle's diary?"
"Long story. You do know you're famous, right?"
"Unfortunately. But I thought that was only for wizards."
"No, no. There are a bunch of books about you."
"I knew that… I just didn't think muggles read them. You do know what muggles are if you know who Tom Riddle was then, right?"
"But of course!"
"It's really incredible that you know this stuff about... just wizarding life in general, and yet you're from a muggle school in America. And you don't know it in a creepy way either, like the people who know the details of my life better than I do."
"You seemed a little frightened when we first met, though. I don't see how I acted any less creepy than the other people who are amazed to meet you."
"Maybe you just caught me at the right time then. Like I said, my friends are being insane."
"I'd rather not think of it like I'm just your backup friend."
"Think of it like we just met and I've never really had to do this before, then."
"Do what?"
"Ask someone I don't even know to sit with me at mealtimes. I feel rather pathetic."
"At least you don't have to ask me to a dance."
"No, no. I've done that before."
"I know. Cho, right? Fourth year? You were a Champion, so you had to dance?"
"Okay, that's frightening."
"It's because I'm such an incredible person who knows such incredible things."
"Then how come there aren't any books about you?"
"There will be. No worries."
"You know what?"
"What?" Laura crossed her fingers, hoping he'd say that he wanted to run away with her across time and space back to England, where they could live happily ever after. It was a long shot, but it never hurts to dream…
"I don't think I've ever talked this easily to anyone… you know, not about me being Harry Potter… except for Hermione and Ron, only they're usually so preoccupied with each other that… well, you know… I kind of get a little left out."
"Yeah. I know how that goes."
"Then again, it's always easier to not have to talk to people in person."
"You wouldn't want to talk to me in person?"
"That's not what I said at all. What I mean is that what I'm about to bring up would be very awkward in person."
"And that is?"
"You looooooove me?"
Laura turned bright red. "You weren't supposed to see that, really. It was a joke."
"But you like me like me?"
"…"
"…?"
"Maybe…"
"All right."
Slightly upset that that's all he had to say about the matter, and slightly unnerved that she could become attached to someone so quickly, just like in the movies, she scribbled down, "Right. Well I g2g."
"Okay. See you at breakfast?"
"Cya."
And Laura crumpled the parchment, stood up beside the bed, and flopped herself back down on the pillows, just for dramatic effect.
"Just like the movies…" she mused.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boromir strode along outside Rivendell towards the tree where the young elves usually played. He bowed cordially to the one boy he met along the way, one of the many people he didn't know. So much had changed in his death. And yet, as he took a deep breath of the fresh air, so much was the same.
Certainly Gandalf had filled him in on the major events in Middle-earth since his death. He had known that Aragorn was Isildur's Heir, and now he knew that he had been confirmed as king… King Elessar of Gondor. The Ring had been destroyed with Gollum. This reassured Boromir, for he had control of himself once more.
But that was all he had.
Centuries of stewardship couldn't mean nothing, could it? And if it could, why was Boromir the unlucky one who never got to claim his place?
Leaning his head against the tree, Boromir the tough man, Boromir born to be Steward of Gondor, let his misery overcome his joy at being alive.
He had no friends of whom to speak. His brother had denounced his actions to seize the Ring, and still thought he was dead. Maybe he was dead still. What is dead but having no home, no love shared with fellow men… or elves… or dwarves… or hobbits… or whatever… in kinship, friendship, or romance?
He had been dead. He had, even if he was alive now. Who can identify with that? Alone, alone, a thousand times alone. Hopeless, he stood there and began to shake.
He proved that night that even resurrected tough guys could have emoments.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Emily wondered as she wandered out under the sky, having taken an interesting and aesthetically-pleasing labyrinthine series of balconies, but not about why the Lord Jesus did come for to die. Rather, she wondered as she wandered out under the sky where in the world was, not Carmen Sandiego, but Ali, Nellie, Jocelyn, and Stefanie.
Frustrated beyond belief, and just a tad frightened by the eerie shadows being cast by any and all objects caught in the radiant light of the full moon, she decided to head back to her room and find the four girls in the morning… but then she remembered Laura. Figuring Laura might want a few more minutes to think over Harry undisturbed, Emily made her way, almost unconsciously, to Paula and Julianna's door.
She knocked.
Julianna opened the door.
Emily raised any eyebrow, but said nothing.
Julianna raised her eyebrow in reply. Looking around furtively, she tiptoed out and closed the door silently behind her.
After a few moments of walking in silence, Julianna finally whispered, "Where are we going?"
Emily snickered. "Time warp."
"Ooh. Bad idea."
"I'm a bad girl," Emily smirked, trying (and failing) to imitate Malfoy's Chamber of Secrets eyebrow action.
"No you're not! Don't you start that!"
"I was just kidding, Jules."
"I know that."
"I love you."
"Cool."
Emily suddenly made her hands into a gun shape and began humming the Mission Impossible theme. Rolling quickly across a stretch of open floor, then flattening safely behind a corner, she said in a stage whisper, "Coast is clear! Go go go!"
"That's so cliché. Can't anyone ever go through a dark elven home in the dead of night without rolling around?"
"Spoilsport!"
"Gah!"
"I love you."
"I-" Julianna was cut off as a skinny shadow of another person dropped from what appeared to be an overhang of the roof onto her head.
"Weeee!" the shadow said, smiling rather psychotically.
"Paula… get off me."
"Weeee!" the shadow said, more emphatically.
"Weeee… weeee… weeee… now please… you're scary."
Paula giggled. Julianna cowered beneath her. Emily pried Paula off.
"That wouldn't have happened if you'd been sneaking, Jules," Emily said, mock-scoldingly.
"Are you kidding?" Paula said. "Yeah it would have!"
God gave a hearty laugh because no one else did and it seemed appropriate at the time, and the three girls walked off arm in arm to seek out the drop-off point of the time warp.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neville nodded politely as that strange bearded man, the one whom everyone had made such a big fuss about at the Council, bowed to him. Lost in thought, the troubled moonfaced boy wandered back inside. Strolling slowly in the general direction of the room that he shared with Harry and Ron, Neville too thought about change. Of course it would take a situation stranger than any he had ever been in before to finally change things between himself and Hermione… or hadn't they changed at all?
This much Neville knew: he had struggled through Hogwarts, never really having any friends, but from the very first day of first year, on the Hogwarts Express, he had considered Hermione intriguingly, dearly beautiful. Not beautiful in the supermodel sense naturally, he corrected himself, but in a far more important way. She had tried to help him find Trevor when everyone else had just laughed at him, and almost in exchange, he had been willing to stand by her even when everyone else thought she was absolutely horrid. She had not needed him, though. She turned instead to… Potter and Weasley.
Not that Potter and Weasley were bad chaps at all. Not at all. On the contrary, Neville considered them as close to friends as any he had, but he was full aware that they were not nice to him because they liked him as a person, but only because they felt bad for him. Neville was no stranger to pity, and he didn't enjoy it, but he felt a sort of gratitude that they cared even that much. It was pity or Malfoy-esque cruelty in his world, and he hands-down chose the former.
Yet these twisted feelings of gratitude did not prevent him from thinking that both the famous Harry Potter and his oh-so-loveable sidekick Ronald Weasley were utter fools. It was not until after he, Neville Longbottom, eternal butt of Hogwarts jokes, had worked up the courage to ask Hermione to Yule Ball that Ron finally clued in to the beauty right under his nose.
But Hermione chose Ron in the end. Ron, who for four years had treated Hermione in a way that really was only marginally better than his treatment of Neville, got the girl and helped Harry save the day annually. This was the way it was. Neville continued on after his Yule Ball rejection, taking Ron's sister almost as revenge, though he and everyone else knew very well that her heart belonged to Potter. He made it through Hogwarts, or at least nearly since graduation wasn't for another two weeks, despite never having had a friend. It was okay. It was the way everyone expected it to be, the poor little Longbottom boy never having a shoulder to cry on when he was laughed at to his face or behind his back. He knew people did, and it was just about the only thing he never forgot. Somehow, it was all the worse for his knowing it. He had tried crying on Trevor's shoulder, but toads really don't have big enough joints to bear the burden of such troubles as Neville faced.
Now Hermione had kissed him.
Not just kissed him… snogged him. A hint of a blush crept into Neville's cheeks. Had she finally realized it, that Ron was just a twit when it came to her, and that Neville had always been there? Was it real… or just a dream?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't want to miss lacrosse games to sit here and listen to an old guy with a long beard and too many names telling us that the fate of the past, present, and future world rests in our hands," Stefanie said to Nellie as the two of them sat in their particularly tiny room.
"Yeah… but see, how does that work? If we're in the past, then it's technically the present since we're here, in which case our present is the future, and…" Nellie trailed off a little.
"I don't want to think. We're not in school."
"Exactly!" Nellie said brightly. "An old guy with a long beard and too many names telling us that the fate of the past, present, and future world rests in our hands is still better than Ms. Vigliante lecturing us for hours about how the fate of the new 'student lounge' rests on us never actually using it."
"I guess. It's not Evil Man Elf's History Project from Hell at least…"
"Just keep telling yourself that… no matter how bad things get, it's not Mrs. Watkins's project."
"Caity Nevins is going to get to play over me because I was chosen to get stuck in a place being invaded by killer tomatoes or something and I don't know when I'll be back, but it's not Evil Man Elf's History Project from Hell!"
"Good job, good job!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look Cathy, they have moors!" Heathcliff pointed dramatically out the open window and over the small rolling hills of grass, his face stoic and poetic-looking.
"And we, dear Heathcliff, have bodies…" Cathy looked up at him, the mischievous twinkle of her youth back in her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey Jocie, who is that out there?" Ali asked, pointing out the window at two figures prancing their way, hand in hand, out onto the empty fields.
Jocelyn peered out, squinted, concentrated. "I don't know. Maybe elves?"
Ali leaned her head out further. "Oh I know! I think it's that dead couple that Dumbledore temporarily restored to their bodies."
"Alright, cool…"
"Oh my God! What are they doing?!" Ali asked suddenly in horror.
"Actually," God said, "what they are doing is a beautiful act commanded by Me, for I have saideth of My people, 'be fruitful, and multiply.' But the act doth lose its beauty entirely outside the bounds of Holy Matrimony, and thus it shall be condemned. Just say no, those of My people who are not married. Abstinence is cool."
Jocelyn and Ali did not hear of course, for their hearts were not attuned to God, but that's okay because everyone knows sex is bad, monasteries are good, and it's just one more reason why Heathcliff is going to Hell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At an undisclosed location, a motley collection of people, for the most part ugly, greasy, and possessing of unattractive speech impediments, decided to have a convention.
No, they were not there to spell or fence or give speech and debate pieces or play chess or talk about Star Wars. Dispel those thoughts from your mind now. They were spelling out no more than plans for total global domination, fencing with disaster, giving speeches that made Hitler's look like Dubya's, playing chess on the chessboard of all time and space, with all the living beings ever contained as the pieces. Okay, so they sort of were talking about Star Wars… but only in a very literal sense.
Various theme songs (as heard in the movies!) being played on little tape recorders by all the various armies of henchmen clashed at once, forming a discord so striking that it was very fitting. It was also very fitting when one of the leaders of this convention got a headache (it happens to the best… and worst of us,) and decided to strangle all the henchmen concealing tape recorders underneath their assigned uniforms… but he did it using the force, so he didn't even have to get up.
"Oh Palpatine, my good lad… you certainly did not need to strain yourself so in the strangulation of the little people! You will need your strength, and killing people does sap it so," said a rapist-looking man with very long, very white facial hair and very black eyebrows. "The next time you wish one of my hideous little goblin fellows dead, just speak the word and I can do it quite as easily as you can." He extended his staff, muttered a word, and zapped the nearest White Hand Uruk-Hai dead. "See? Quite simple really. Perhaps painless, but then I have never tried it myself. I suppose some experiences I will just have to get by proxy."
"Very good, Saruman, very good," Palpatine said chuckling in the highly artificial way one is likely to hear at a country club gathering of old, rich, stuffy men. He was not one to chatter, for he was one of the three leaders of this conference, and he needed his wits about him.
"My method," hissed a slit-eyed scary dude in the corner, wearing a monstrous snake like a scarf, "is most definitely not painless… but no pain, no gain! The only way to be effective is to use excessive amounts of violence, wouldn't you agree, my good men?"
"Most definitely, Lord Voldemort," lisped a really decrepit-looking, rotted-tooth, unkempt-hair man standing next to Saruman.
"Oh, call me Voldy, please. All my minions do."
"Voldy, then. But won't you demonstrate?" the foul man, Wormtongue, asked, riveted.
"Certainly! May I?" he asked, pointing his wand at another of Saruman's Uruk-Hai.
"Go ahead, Voldy. Help yourself," Saruman said. "Speaking of helping yourself, where is our tea, Palpatine?"
Voldemort yelled out violently, "Avada Kedavra!" and a jet of green light shot out and killed the fortunate orc in a matter of moments (fortunate because he's dead. The misfortune was that he had to be created to look like that. But we can't all be made in God's image.)
Palpatine had grown impatient. "You there! Darth Slowpoke! Where are our tea and crumpets?" he asked, threatening the nearest figure robed entirely in fire-engine red.
The red man said nothing, for, though Palpatine did have a new spring line coming out that promised to be a big hit with the in-crowd on the Death Star (perhaps because you were faced with torture if you didn't wear the dictator's signature pal.p.teen fashion gear,) the designs for his guards' uniforms had been less than perfect. There was no mouth hole, and the guard could not say where the tea and crumpets were.
Impatient, Palpatine extended his hand to kill.
"No no!" insisted the annoying-voiced noble in the corner. "Allow me! Warner!" He gestured to his manservant, who efficiently pulled out a gun and shot the guard dead.
"Why thank you, dear Duke!" Palpatine laughed. The Duke joined him, irritatingly high-pitched. "Now let me try this again, then we can get down to business."
Sauron, the frightening third leader of the convention, nodded darkly, but said nothing.
Palpatine snapped his fingers and a clone/stormtrooper stepped forward. "Get me tea and crumpets. Now."
"Yes sir. Right away, sir. Would you like me to clear away the dead bodies also, sir?"
"That will not be necessary, dear boy," Palpatine said, patting the full-grown armored soldier on the head, "There is sure to be more later, and you might as well take them all at once. For now, the tea!" As the stormtrooper departed, Palpatine laughed in the same false manner as before again. "So hard to find good help these days!"
"I know precisely what you mean!" said Voldemort, leaning forward and staring pointedly at Wormtail, who was cowering in a corner.
"Consider investing in clones, Voldy… they are most definitely worth the time and the considerable amounts of cooing and verbal rape by the long-necked alien Taun We. Look! Here is our tea now."
The stormtrooper poured everyone a cup, then backed away apologizing profusely. "The crumpets weren't there. I brought muffins. I'm sorry, your excellency."
Everyone looked at each other, trying to decide who should kill.
"Muffins! Splendid!" said Sauron, speaking for the first time. "I love muffins!"
And that made it all right. Sauron took a muffin and retreated back to the realm of staring everyone down in an evil manner.
"Now," said Voldemort, "Wormtail, you worthless slob. Milk Nagini. You know I take milk in my tea!" Throwing the snake at his miserable servant, "Voldy" then turned and held up the sugar bowl. "Sugar anyone?"
"I'll have some," piped the Duke, pouring the entire bowl into his cup, then raising it (the cup) in the air. "I would like to propose a toast…"
"No, no, no!" said Saruman. "Wait until we know what to toast to for sure."
"Yes," said Palpatine, "You see… the Lord Voldemort, the Lord Sauron, and myself are here because we have found that we have a common ambition, which is to say, universal domination, and also that it is just one small trinket that will allow us to fulfill that ambition without ever getting out of these lovely fluffy settees. We need the One Ring."
"It was destroyed," rasped a dark, evil elf, ruler of Nan Elmoth, home of Eöl in the old legends.
"Destruction is not an object when we have control over time," Palpatine reassured.
"Then how do we ally ourselves against the forces of good?" asked Saruman, "For I hope I do not assume too much in saying that you wish us to form a group, despite the competition between you three lords?"
"You do not assume too much," said Voldemort. "What we need is a coalition."
"The Dark Lord Coalition," said Palpatine, "for…"
"For…"
"For…"
"Less Good," said the Duke.
"Splendid!" said Palpatine. "Now we just need a plan."
The dark elf lord looked at Sauron, munching delightedly on his muffin. "I believe I have a plan."
"Well cheerio then mate," Saruman smiled, clapping the elf on the back. "I do hope it's brutal!"
"Oh it is assuredly brutal," said the evil man elf. "But at least it is not my history project."
The dark lords all had a good, hearty, refined-British-man chuckle at this, and so did God, who pointed at Satan as he laughed, for Satan was busy toiling away in Hell adding new requirements to the project.
"Then," said the Duke, raising his teacup again, "I propose a toast… to the Dark Lord Coalition for Less Good!"
"To the Dark Lord Coalition for Less Good!" they echoed.
"Mmmph mummph uhhdooo!" said Sauron, spewing muffin crumbs all over everyone.
(Disclaima, Disclomma, Come on Pretty Momma!: Okey doke. Definitely sorry for the delay in chapter here… it's been sitting on my computer for… a month. Yeah. Not all of it though. I doubled the size, I think. At any rate, truly, truly sorry, but I've been unbelievably busy. But enough about me! This update is dedicated to Julianna, whose sweet sixteen is todayyyy! There's a lot of stuff in this chapter that I don't own, so let's get down to it! I don't own Herbal Essences or their orgasm commercials, any instant messaging corporations, "I Wonder As I Wander," Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, "Mission Impossible," Draco Malfoy's amazing eyebrow movements, Neville's feelings about… anything [but that's artistic license! Go with me!], Ms. Vigliante's boring speeches, Mrs. Watkins's History Project from Hell, or… um… virtually anything in my faux-British portrayal of the bad guys. That's all, dudes!)
