Ron stared at the candle before him on the little intricately carved table, his gaze dull and deadened, like someone who has sat too long in one of Mrs. Tocci's classes, either taking down detailed notes on Shakespeare, like what he ate with his tea two weeks after his twelfth birthday and how many times he chewed it before swallowing, or else listening to what a marvelous specimen of man Heathcliff was.  The candle flickered.  Ron's gaze did not.

Harry let out a long, low whistle as he finished "writing his note" to Laura.  Standing up and stretching, he clapped Ron on the shoulder.  "Well, Ron!" he said cheerily, settling back down at the foot of his bed.  "When do you reckon Neville'll be back?"

"Don't know," Ron said in a rather moody monotone, if such a paradox is even possible.  It probably is.  Certain teachers of Earth Science have been known to get quite moody when their beloved staplers are stolen, yet they never lose the monotone.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

"Nothing," the youngest Weasley son shot at Harry, snuffing the candle with his fingertips.  That just goes to show what a tough fellow that Ron Weasley is.  "Jusmissermionesall."

"What's that?" Harry asked, having only heard an unintelligible mumble.

"Nothing."

As they settled into their beds, leaving the door open a crack for Neville, Ron did not know that he wasn't the only one missing Hermione.

But neither did he know that he was the only one that Hermione missed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tomorrow, speak for our cause you must," Yoda told the two young men walking beside him as the unlikely trio led fiveseven others back to the fleet of X-wing fighters secretly being kept hidden in the dense forest around Rivendell.  I guess it's not a secret anymore!

"We do not share a cause, little beast," said one of the strapping young lads brusquely.  "I was never aware of your existence until three days ago, and I still do not know why you have brought me here.  I have a people to lead, and you cannot keep me here in this spiceless land against my will!  Your so-called 'Jedi' powers are nothing compared to the powers with which I have been endowed just by being the Chosen One!" 

"Maybe Yoda's Jedi powers are nothing compared to yours, but you'll have to come through me too," snapped the other young man, clad entirely in black leather (dominatrix style, baby!), as he eyed the first scarily.

"My pleasure…" the first boy, Leto II, said, savoring the idea.

The second teenager, Anakin, reached for his lightsaber.

"Leto, stop it!" cried a nearly hysterical girl, Ghani, trying to block any fighting that might break out.

"Annie… don't…" said a dark-haired young woman, taking the black-clad Jedi apprentice's arm.

Anakin shook her off roughly.  "Not now, Padme.  I'll deal with you later."  He turned briefly to rape her with his eyes, then attempted to return his evil stare to Leto, though Ghani still stood in the way.

"Oh please, 'Annie,' do not harm me!" Leto leered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  "Go rape your little wife using the Force and stop looking at Ghanima like that."

Anakin pulled Padme close and kissed her temple, then grinned at Leto.  "At least I don't have to resort to raping my twin sister.  Even on my little desert homeplanet we know that incest is bad."  In case you're stupid, I will point out that this is dramatic irony, because we all know that Anakin's twin children (Luke and Leia) later become involved in a brief little incestuous fling.

Leto looked insulted.

Yoda looked pretty damn amused.

"Now, now younglings, get along you must."

All eyes turned to Yoda; and Anakin and Leto's death glares, previously reserved only for each other, sought out the little green creature.

Later, after all the other intergalactic delegates had retired to their X-wings, Masters Mace Windu, Yoda, and Obi-Wan Kenobi took in the starlight together.

"Master Yoda," Mace Windu said, "Have you, the Lord Elrond, and Mithrandir discovered the secret as to why we are here yet?  The so-called 'Chosen One' grows restless, and Young Anakin is beginning to sense a rivalry.  I sense a disturbance in the Force."

Obi-Wan Kenobi rolled his eyes like the obnoxious teenager that you, the reader, probably are.  For a Jedi, he was rather progressive, and he had grown weary throughout the years of the order's two trademark lines: "I sense a disturbance in the Force!" and "There isn't much time!"  Instead of complaining, though, he said to Master Windu, "I don't see that anyone knows why they are here.  We are just one more element added to the mix."

Yoda nodded, eyes closed in his weird little way.  "Master Kenobi speaks well, but knowledge of all that has gone on, possess he does not."

"We have long known that a power struggle war on this planet would occur," Master Windu said by way of explanation, "but this whole galaxy is many parsecs away from Coruscant, as you surely know, Master Kenobi.  We understood that it was not to involve the Jedi Order in any way.  At the last minute, summons came from he who they call Mithrandir, and we have arrived on the brink of war."

"How could that be?" Obi-Wan asked quite rhetorically, as it did not seem possible for either Mace Windu or Yoda to know the answer.  Just then, though, when it seemed as though the three Jedi Knights would be lost in boring, introspective reflections on how could that be, a voice came from the thick cluster of trees..

The way this story is going, it would seem extremely likely that the voice would be calling out in ecstasy, regardless of who heard it, "Yes, Heathcliff!  Yes!  Oh yes!  Don't stop!" and very little would be solved in the way of how-could-it-be-that-the-Jedi-were-now-involved-in-a-war-that-didn't-appear-to-concern-them.  The voice, a deep and soothing one to hear, instead said, very helpfully, "It can be such that the Jedi Order is involved because their Enemy has only recently involved himself.  None of this is, as you say, at the last minute though, for it has been writ upon the stars for many a long year and will be for many years to come.  Even you who live among the stars might glance up at them and gain knowledge."

Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber.

"Who speaks?" Mace Windu asked.

There came a snapping of twigs and creaking of branches, and with that, the leaves parted to reveal what anyone who has read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix knew was coming… a centaur.  And not just any centaur!  It was Firenze!  Whoa-hoa.  See the shock.  What a surprise.  What a kicker.  I might need a defibrillator.

Master Windu eyed Firenze suspiciously.  "Are you friend or foe?"

"Neither," Firenze answered calmly.

Obi-Wan twirled his lightsaber, keeping it in a ready position over his head.

"Mmm," Yoda said, his voice cracking like it always does when he says "Mmm."

Firenze half-bowed, putting one of his front legs forward as horses do and bending slightly at the waist.  Yoda nodded back.  Could you imagine Yoda bowing?  At any rate, the two unusual beings, the Jedi and the centaur, seemed to have reached a silent understanding.

"Tell Dumbledore that there is a glitch in his plan," Firenze said, stomping his back hoofs to keep the flies away.

"Dumbledore?" Obi-Wan Kenobi asked, apparently not having paid much attention to the brief argument over Dumbledalf's name.

"Dumbledore, Mithrandir, Tharkûn, Gandalf, Olórin, Incánus, they are all the same to a centaur," was Firenze's reply.

"We have no authority to speak of this glitch to your Dumbledore.  You had better tell him yourself," Mace said.

Firenze did not look too pleased about this, but answered: "Very well."  Without a backwards glance, he cantered smoothly past the Jedi and the X-wings.

"Odd," Obi-Wan said, watching Firenze's retreat.  "This is all very odd."

"Yes," Mace Windu said, "I still sense a disturbance in the Force."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily snuck, secret agent-style through Rivendell, Julianna and Paula in tow.  "On to the time warp!" she cried as they reached the threshold.  Outside, the stars were scattered like diamonds that some sort of inept jewel thief left lying around loose on an incredibly sky-like surface.

"Where is the time warp, though?" Julianna asked.

"It's where we landed!" Paula answered, running gawkily on ahead, her arms waving wildly with each awkward footfall.

JuliannaEmily sighed.  "We just need to find our way back to the spot."

Scrambling through the grasses and up small hills like incredibly girl-like mountain goats being spurred by the cattle prod of some sort of sadistic rancher, perhaps from the President's own ranch, JuliannaEmily, Paula, and EmilyJulianna made next to no progress attempting to find the time warp.  It had not been a long walk to Rivendell from there, or so it had seemed at the time, when they were surrounded by merry elven sing-song, but where was the path they had followed?  How did one get there?  Do cattle prods work on goats?  They were about to give up when they heard footsteps.  They whirled, Paula trying to cling to Jules and Emily both at once, Emily trying to protect herself and the others by making a gun-shape with her hands, and Julianna trying to be the only sensible one there by asking, "Who is it?"

"Put the 'gun' down, l'Em, it's only us," said Stefanie.

"We didn't mean to startle you guys," Nellie apologized.  "We just thought we saw someone frolicking outside and thought it looked fun."

"And je, meaning me, knew it was je, meaning Paula, because of the way she can't run!" said Stefanie, paralyzed with her signature laughter.

Paula put on her intimidating face, "Oh yeah?  Well, je, meaning you, has a stupid laugh!"

Stefanie started chasing her around, and Paula started trying to get into a position where je (meaning Paula) could leap onto je (meaning Stefanie's) back.  It was rather like an incredibly girl-like dog chasing its detached and incredibly girl-like tail.

"Where are our other fair school friends though?" Nellie asked, ignoring Paula and Stefanie's antics.

"Um… in their rooms?" Julianna replied uncertainly.

"Laura stayed behind and was writing a note to Harry Potter last I knew," said Emily.

"Harry Potter.  Very cool.  But the point is, tOther than that, weird.  There were fiveour other people besides you out here running around together out here.  Or walking, rather," Nellie corrected herself.  "We thought Ali, Jocelyn, Rachel, Kathleen, and Laura, but if Laura's in her room…and Kathleen, maybe?"

"Well, we didn't see them," Julianna said..  "We've only seen you, so far."

"We were going to the time warp!" Paula said, looking up from where she was trying to subdue a captured and squirming Stefanie by jumping on her.  Someone stepped from the shadows and picked Paulaher up, holding herPaula's little, incredibly skinny form like a small child, which was something that she always enjoyed.

"Hey!" she said, trying to sound irritated and cuddle at the same time.  "Je was just trying to give je what she deserved!"

"My love!" said the mysterious rescuer of Stefanie.

"Rachel!" cheeredlamored everyone at once.

"Whoaaaa! Hey hey hey!" said Rachel.

"I'm here too," sulked Kathleen.

"Kathleen!  Kathleen!"  Everyone welcomed her twice to make up for not noticing the first time.

"I know what would be fun," said Julianna suddenly.  "Pass the Paula!"

And they all proceeded to Pass the Paula from one person to the next like an infant, and they were blissfully, blissfully happy.

"You two didn't happen to be with Ali and Jocelyn, did you?" Nellie asked, passing Paula to Rachel.

"Nope!" Rachel chuckled, pretending she was going to drop Paula for fun.

"We couldn't sleep, and it seemed like everyone in all of Rivendell was up and pacing the hallways anyway, so we decided to go exploring," said Kathleen.  "And then we saw you three out here and decided to join you.  I identified Paula because of her stupid run."

"Everyone's so mean to me," Paula pouted, and Stefanie promptly lost the game by dropping the Paula.  "Game over," the latter declared, scrambling to her feet.

"Come on, let's keep trying to find the time warp," Emily persisted.  "It's got to be close."

"Why?" asked Julianna.  "So we can go back to school?  We'd probably get arrested for killing Tocci if we left her here."

"Maybe it will take us someplace new and cooler," Emily shrugged.

"There's no place cooler than Rivendell!" Kathleen said firmly, but she followed anyways as the seven set further out on the moors.

Walking for some ungodly amount of time and not seeming to get anywhere at all, the girls grew tired and longed for their fluffy elf beds.  You could tell this was the case because, as Stefanie aptly put it, "Je trés longs for monon fluffy elf bed."

"Okay, why don't we try to find our way back now?" Rachel asked.

"Wait!" Julianna exclaimed.  "What's that?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heathcliff and Cathy lay together in the tall grass under the starlight.  The twinkling lights of Rivendell lay two miles behind, and the forests around it were out of sight.  In truth, they were not part of the group that Nellie and Stefanie had spied, for only Ali and Jocelyn had spotted them out the window in the act of "visiting Peniston Crags," and the window from which they gazed faced the opposite direction of the other girls'.  After the excitement of their little tryst, Heathcliff and Catherine had ventured further out on the Middle-earth moors, trying to find their favorite cluster of erect hard things, and, in doing this, had been lost from the sight of anyone inside Elrond's home who might think to look for them, Mrs. Tocci, for one.

You see, they still thought they were in England on their own moors, since they had been knocked out when everyone had arrived at Rivendell and no one had told them otherwise.  In fact, no one had seen fit to even outline for them what was known about the strange things that were happening.  This should have been done, as Heathcliff and Catherine had been chosen by whatever power had chosen the others, but being dead outweighs being chosen more often than not, so the pair was not paid much attention.  After all, how could dead people contribute?  Not that they noticed this neglect, even with their bodies back.  They only had eyes… and lips… and hands… for each other.

Still breathless, Cathy leaned over to Heathliff.  "How far do you think to Thrushcross Grange?" she whispered huskily.

"Another two miles, I should think," he replied.

"Mmm," she said slowly, starting to kiss Heathcliff's neck.

He shoved her face away roughly, sending her sprawling.  "Why 'Mmm?'  Why do you want to know?"

Catherine said nothing, cradling her face in her hand, tears springing to her eye.

"If you were thinking of looking for Edgar," Heathcliff roared, "he is dead, the pansy!  Indeed, I should have drowned him in apple sauce when I had the chance!"

"That was so long ago, that day," Cathy said reminiscently.  "I stood up for you when you threw the tureen at him, Heathcliff.  Don't hold it against me.

"He had it coming," Heathcliff growled.

Cathy nodded in agreement.  "But had you drowned him or not," she reminded him, "he is still dead now, which is why I was not thinking of looking for him at Thrushcross Grange.  It was my home too."

Other than Heathcliff's cruel laughter, there was silence.  "Oh, Cathy.  Thrushcross Grange your home, and my having taken it from your daughter so long ago!" he laughed.  "Thrushcross Grange is mine.  I had to use every manipulation in the book to get it, but I eventually did, so I earned it fairly.  And, and-" Heathcliff was beside himself with laughter now, "and I had to lock your daughter up in the Heights until she consented to marry my dying son!  But what's mine is yours," he added gravely, "so it is still half yours, though you don't share it with Edgar any longer."

Catherine looked as furious as any self-respecting bitch who finds out, posthumously, that her childhood lover had tortured her daughter so that he could gain more property.  But, what was more, the marriage-or-imprisonment was a trick that the Heathcliff had taken from her very own, timeworn Every Manipulation in the Book book.  Cathy had consulted Every Manipulation in the Book many a time.  Why, if it wasn't that book that had given her the idea to kill herself just to show her husband and lover, I'll be damned!  And to have that book, which she had always thought of as her little secret, discovered by one of the men she had tried to use it against!  Well!  The only ways to properly demonstrate her fury were to either become anorexic or sleep with the man… or both.

Heathcliff's demonic little eyes fixed on her, not unaffectionately, albeit in a savage way.

"Oh Heathcliff!" she cried.  "I love you!  I have always loved you, but I knew I mustn't because, after all, you had no money and you were raised as my servant/brother of much lower status, but it could not be helped!  It would have degraded me to marry you, but it never stopped me from loving.  Do say you believe me!  You must have known, Heathcliff, I never wanted for you to run away!  If you had but stayed, I would not have married Edgar!"

"But he fancied he loved you, Cathy, as much as did I.  And, why, if he had the money…"

"He always was a cowardly, petted idiot," Cathy giggled.

Heathcliff was pleased beyond any doubt.

"But I did rather like him," she said lightly.

Heathcliff chose to ignore this last remark in favor of enjoying his true love's closing embrace.  "Let us never part again," he whispered, prepared to imprison her in the Heights if any forces should try to rend them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Did you send for Galadriel, Mithrandir?" Elrond asked Dumbledalf on the very same night that has been the subject of this chapter and the last.

"Yes," Dumbledalf replied.

"The Lord Celeborn?"

"And his lovely wardniece," Dumbledalf replied, smiling.

"Círdan?  Has he been notified?"

"Indeed, old friend.  No need to worry."  The wizard's eyes twinkled as he spoke.

"What of my sons?"

"I sent for them, but I doubt they will be able to make it in time.  If your daughter is not going to be in this story, I do not see why your sons should be."

"But Arwen was not in the last story either, and Ellµadan and Elrohir were…" Elrond protested, though obviously it did no good.  Despite no one knowing what was happening or exactly what kind of evil they faced, they did know they totally weren't in a movie.  Really, what was happening was more the type ofof a book thing one writes books about (fanfiction, actually,) and thus there would be no opportunity for Arwen to steal Glorfindel's horse and his moment of glory or otherwise insert herself where she did not belong.  If the parallels were to remain true, then, and Arwen would be in this new tale as often as she was in The Lord of the Rings (which is to say not at all,) then Ellµadan and Elrohir would only make a brief appearance toward the end.

"What happens is out of my hands, Elrond, you know that.  I sent word to all I know of valor in Middle EarthMiddle-earth, and at my school, Hogwarts.  I doubt that the time warps will allow anyone from Hogwarts here if they were not chosen, but there it is.  I have done the best I could.  Is there anything, else then, that you would like to ask?"

"Six of diamonds?"

"Go fish."

As Elrond reached over to draw his card, Firenze clip-clopped in.

Dumbledalf looked up from his hand of cards.  "Ah, Firenze!  I had been expecting Minerva.  The time warp worked for you, then?"

"There is a glitch in your plan, Professor Dumbledore.  It is not working."

Dumbledalf appeared to ponder this for a moment, then said brightly, "Well!  Tell It that It must work or else It will not receive Its paycheck!"

Elrond looked baffled.  "Tell your plan it must work lest it loses its paycheck?  What are you speaking of, Mithrandir?"

He smiled.  "My new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the coming school year is 'It.'  The glitch in the plan, I would presume, is that It needs a little bit of breaking in before next year?"

Firenze looked grim.  "It killed this year's teacher, Professor Dumbledore."

The wizard smiled.  "Ah yes, well, these Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, they only ever last a year, you know.  He was bound to get knocked offilled off or whatnot sooner or later."

Firenze still looked very solemn.  "Professor McGonagall could not come to tell you herself because she is currently restraining It with the help of Hagrid.  I must tell you, Hagrid finds It fascinating.  'Never seen anythin' like It,' he says.  Having nothing else like It is  good fortune.  Unleashing this monster from another time on your students is folly, Professor Dumbledore.  All elements of the universe are against it."

Elrond, looking suddenly suspicious, stared at Dumbledalf.  "Mithrandir... who is 'It?'"

Dumbledalf smiled back at the elf, "Jack of hearts?"

Elrond slapped his hand of cards down on the table, looking angry now.

"See, that was silly, Elrond.  You should not do that.  Now I can see what you have.  Go Fish really is not a difficult game, all you-"

"Who did you hire?  Who is the 'monster from another time?'  Do not tell me that you have meddled with the time warps that you at least professed that you did not understand!"

"Because I truly do not understand them."

"Then why-"

"I did not meddle with them."

"Who did you hire?"  Elrond looked at the cheery old wizard levelly.

Dumbledalf carefully put his cards on the table, making sure that they were face-down.  "The Balrog of Moria."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Tocci gazed dreamily out her open window, the night wind struggling to force her limp, lifeless, overly blow-dryed hair to lift and play around her face.  Eventually the wind gave up and went off to lift weights in the willows before attempting to tackle Mrs. Tocci's hair again.

The apoplexy-prone Literature, Speech, and Drama teacher leaned her head to one side, studying the scene before her: two distant figures, rolling about in the grass, then running away out of sight.  Suddenly, she smiled and stood up, as if in a trance.

Her smile ever-broadening, Mrs. Tocci feverishly dressed herself back into the clothes she had worn through the time warp and snatched up the elven cloak that had been left for her.

She closed the door carelessly, and it slammed with a loud "Bang!" that would have woken the entire household if everyone hadn't been awake already.  Trying to fasten the cloak as she trotted swiftly along, she murmured to herself over and over again, "He is a dark-skinned gypsy…"  Every repetition drew a wider and more insane grin, and soon she was giggling like a giddy schoolteacher, which is far scarier than a schoolgirl, if you ever stopped to think about it.

So intent was she upon repeating her little mantra while making for the door that she failed to notice Ali and Jocelyn, who she tripped over unceremoniously.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Jocelyn cried, secretly wondering what the bleached-blonde nutcase was doing wandering the halls of Rivendell at an hour when only teenagers and sexually-repressed Victorian anorexics were supposed to be awake.

"You are forgiven, my child," said God, pleased at Jocelyn's confession.  The absolution was always His favorite part, closely followed by the killing of the fatted calf-like tofu and the angelic techno party in celebration of another saved soul. (God is, after all, a vegetarian.  Having known all the birds of the sky by name, and loving them all, He thought to partake of meat would be rather like eating your family or classmates.  Of course, for some people, that wouldn't be so much of a problem…)

"HE IS A DARK-SKINNED GYPSY!" shrieked Mrs. Tocci.

"Right," said Ali.  "He is.  In aspect and dress, a gentleman.  That is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire."

"You did not stress the 't' in 'gentleman,'" Mrs. Tocci said sullenly.

"Sorry," apologized Ali.

"He is a dark-skinned gypsy!" the teacher yelped again, pointing outside almost urgently.

"Yes, well, we'd better let you go, Mrs. Tocci," said Jocelyn uneasily, but still following proper etiquette, shifting slowly away from her and towards the door.

"And just where do you think you are going?  You are still the Academy of the Holy Names's responsibility!"

"We're just going to take a little walk outside," replied Ali coolly, careful to pronounce every word slowly and with the most abnormal of fake British accents, so as to please the Speech teacher.  "And, by the way, this is a little off-topic, but I believe that Ms Vigliante has banned any faculty liaisons with strange men when students are around, probably out of jealousy, but rules are rules.  I assume that that also includes any characters from Emily Brontë novels miraculously come to life."

Mrs. Tocci looked furtively around her.  "You don't tell, I don't tell?"

Jocelyn smiled.  "Deal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"But Sam," Frodo protested, "I understand that you love this human after the fashion of Middle-earth, where we all fall in deep and true love at first sight, but what about your Rose?"

"Rose?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Rose!" Frodo replied exasperatedly.

Sam's face was blank.  "Rose… Rose…"

"Rosie Cotton!" Frodo hollered, throwing the Red Book at him.  Everyone in the present time always assumes that the Red Book contained the tales of his adventures, so frequently is it mentioned in the Appendix of The Lord of the Rings, but really, the Bagginses were notorious Communists in the Shire, and they swore by Thoughts of Chairman Mao.

"Oh.  Right.  Her," Sam said.  "Did I really intend to marry her, Master Frodo?"

"Yes." Frodo nodded vigorously.  "Yes, you did.  And please, Sam, call me Comrade Frodo."

"Well!  You do learn something new every day!  I feel as though I've been woken from a long and not particularly happy sleep."

"Too many orcs?" Frodo inquired.

"Exactly, Comrade Frodo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Julianna shocked whisper of "What's that?" sounded much louder than intended in the chill night air.

"That was Julianna!" Ali told Jocelyn, and the two girls set off at a run towards the sound of the voice.

Julianna had reason to be taken aback and, indeed, rather fearful.  Some short distance ahead of the girls were five shadows, presumably of people, but in Middle-earth you never knew if they were human, hobbit, elvish, dwarvish, orcish, entish, escaped lunaticish, killer tomatoes, or maybe just rocks that looked like they were moving because you hadn't eaten anything but lembas in so long.  Two were tall and willowy, and one of these was trailing a long curtain of hair-like substance (but again, in Middle-earth, who knows?), one was of average height, but its broad shoulders were steeply sloped and it looked like one of Dr. Phreak's mutants out of "Bubble Boy," another one was abnormally tall and abnormally fat, and the last was so short that it would not have been spotted if it hadn't been wearing a top hat and swinging a cane around in the air.

Kathleen snorted.  "How could you think we were part of that group?  None of us are midgets!"

"I bet you thought I was the fat one," sniffed Rachel.

"Rachel," Emily reprimanded, eying her friend's thinness, "no.  Just no.  They thought it was me."

Paula poked her viciously.

"Well, I guess they were distorted enough to look normal from our window," Nellie said apologetically.

Ali and Jocelyn reached the other seven at about the same time as one of the five oddballs approached them.

"Hewwoooooooo!!" called the short fellow excitedly, swinging his cane in the air.

"Azya, vot happened to us?" the slope-shouldered one asked one of the tall, slender folk in a quiet tone.

"I vill be damned if I know, Wiktor," he replied.

Paula, however unwisely, decided the slope-shouldered "Wiktor," who you know is Viktor Krum unless you have just recently been hit over the head really hard for not knowing that the centaur that earlier appeared was Firenze, needed a hug.  So she gave him one, much to his and his similarly-accented companion's apparent dismay.  (Remember, now, they just were catapulted from Eastern Europe to Middle-earth and had no idea where they were.  Their suspicion, then, of the very suspicious-looking Paula and her questionable actions, is quite understandable.)  So roused was Azya that he drew a long saber and held it to Paula's neck, pulling her away from Vicky.  "Get ov him, or I vill send you to my father's harem, vench," he threatened.

"Cool sword," Emily remarked.

"Vould you like to taste its edge?" he asked, leaving Paula behind and approaching her menacingly.

"What ees all zees?" inquired the other tall, slender figure with the long hair.

"Shh… Fleur… do not zpeak to zeze ztrangerz, zey might breeng us harm!"

"Mais Madame Maxime, si nous pouvons dire 's' et 'th' en français, pourquoi nous disons seulement 'z' en anglais?" Fleur asked.  (For anyone who doesn't speak at least three different languages or know how to use a translator [I don't.  I translated that myself because I am such a français genius,] that is: "But Mrs. Maxime, if we can say 's' and 'th' in French, why do we say only 'z' in English?")

"Parze que, we muzt make eet pairfectly clear zat we air zpeaking weez zeze outrageouz Frainch accentz for un reazon!" Madame Maxime replied indignantly.

"Because you are French?" Nellie ventured to ask.

"You mean Freedomish," Stefanie corrected.

"Ha!" spat Azya.  "Freedom!  You vill spend many a long night pondering the meaning of that vord ven I strip you of it and send you to my father's harem!"

The short little man in coattails and top hat tugged on Kathleen's sleeve.  "I need a dwink," he whined.

"Okay," Kathleen said, "How about water?  There's a stream right over there."  She pointed

"No, you misundewstand, Madamoisewwe.  Absinthe!" he chirped gleefully.

"Uhhh… guys?" Ali said, "I think we had better tell Dumbledalf about this."

"Dumbledalf!  Dumbledalf!" the girls yelled as they ran back into Rivendell, luring the five strangers on with the promise that the big elven home was, in fact, a harem.

"You did NOT hire the Balrog to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Elrond was yelling as they entered.

"I think we may be interrupting something," Jocelyn whispered as they came to an abrupt halt outside the room where the extremely old wizard and the also extremely old elf were arguing.

"I did," Dumbledalf said, his voice calm, like there was absolutely nothing wrong with hiring a demon, and paying him no less, to teach children as young as 11.

"WHY?" Elrond raged.

"Why not?"

"Why not?  Because the Balrog is a soulless creature of the black pits.  Because It will almost certainly kill your students whom you vowed to protect for the rest of your days rather than continuing to oppose dark magic, strange bits of jewelry, and your own death."

"Damn vow," Dumbledalf muttered.

Elrond continued his righteous tirade as though Dumbledalf had never opened his mouth, "Because It knows nothing about Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Because it is poaching to take a creature of Middle-Earth away from its natural habitat!  I will have the Rangers after you!"

"Now, now.  That's hogwash about the Balrog not knowing about Defense Against the Dark Arts.  It likes the dark.  Otherwise It would not live in Moria," Dumbledalf reasoned.

"And I suppose It likes art as well?" Elrond asked snidely.

"As a matter of fact, yes.  It told me so while we were falling."

"What is It going to do?  Teach the students how to arm themselves against an attack of Picasso's Blue Period?"

There were a few seconds of what the girls could only assume was enraged silence.

"It's now or never," Nellie whispered.

"ELF-MAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" Rachel belted, jumping into the room.

Elrond and Dumbledalf leapt to their feet.

"What is it?" Elrond asked rather coldly.  So much for the Last Homely House!  "I hope the little ones are not still pestering you?"

Rachel was taken aback.  "No, no.  Oh no.  It's just…"  As she fumbled for words to explain, the others entered behind her, and they were able to see for themselves.

"Do you know these people?" Dumbledalf inquired.

"Um… no…" Jocelyn confessed.

"He tried to kill me though!" Paula said gleefully, pointing at Azya as though he had awarded her with a medal.  "But I still don't know them!"

"Well, I do!" Dumbledalf smiled.  "Madame Maxime!  Miss Delacour!  Mister Krum!  Professeur Toulouse-Lautrec!"  He squinted at Azya.  "You I do not know."

"He is Azya," Krum said.  "I do not know anything ov him but that he safed my life ven I fell suddenly through the sky, and that recommends him to me."

"And me," Dumbledalf said genially.  "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likevise," Azya muttered insincerely, fingering his saber.  In full Tartar cavalry dress, he looked out of place with his rather Ku Klux Klannish white robe and pointy turban, sword strapped to his waist in its scabbard.

Elrond turned to the girls just as Kathleen was saying that she knew everything would be okay if they brought the matter to Dumbledalf.

"What made you think that it was safe to venture outside in a land you were unfamiliar with?" he demanded of them.

The girls looked abashed.

"Meep!" Paula whimpered, clinging to the nearest person.

"It was my fault," Emily said softly.  "It was all my idea, I'm sorry."

"We were just trying to find the time warp," Ali explained.

"The time warp is everywhere!" Dumbledalf said cheerily.

"Like me!" God grinned, giving the girls a thumbs-up.

"Yes," Elrond said gravely.  "It is not one small spot.  Verily, it may include all of Middle-earth for all that is known.  Tomorrow, we will find out."

"Tomorrow, yes," Dumbledalf said, as if he'd forgotten something.  He turned to Elrond.  "We have to make new provisions.  This changes things a lot."

"What changes things how?" Emily asked.

"Oh, it does not change a thing.  I was just saying that because it sounded urgent."

"Mithrandir, how can we decide a course of action without any knowledge?  They have not acted yet.  If we are too hasty and over-commit ourselves, it may be exactly what they have waited for."

"Who's they?" Stefanie demanded.  "What's going on?"

"Yeah," Laura yawned, entering the room sleepily.  "What's going on?  Where have you guys been?"

"Ah!  The prodigal schoolgirl!" Dumbledalf exclaimed.

Azya half-drew his sword.

"None of that now," Dumbledalf said patting him on the back, which he resented.  "Now, Laura, in my school, we have rules about students being out of bed after hours."

"You don't enforce them," she snorted.

"All the same, why is it that everyone from the Academy of the Holy Names is out of bed at this hour?  Perhaps you know something we do not?  Anything you would like to tell me?"

"Or me," Elrond added.

"I'm a real elf, I'm a real elf!" Rachel whispered, giggling to Julianna.  Elrond narrowed his eyes, which is a really stupid way to describe it, because really it's just glamorized squinting.

"We don't know anything, sir," Ali said respectfully.

"But obviously neither do you," Stefanie said bluntly.

"I realize that I am a bit addled, yes," Dumbledalf agreed.  "We have some news from a dear friend of mine, Gwaihir."

"The eagle!" Kathleen murmured in awe.

"Yes, the eagle.  He says that there is construction of a new stronghold for evil beginning to the East.  These new arrivals from the time warp show that we have just scratched the surface of the problem… but why did you find them?"

"Because it's our fate?" Paula suggested.

"We were chosen," Julianna said logically.

"Yes, but for what?  Everyone is chosen for something.  Presumably, we are being pitted against a force of evil, and since we are not the ones doing the choosing, we must assume it is they who are.  If they wish us to fail, why would they give us anyone helpful?  We sent for Aragorn, Imrahil, Éomer, and Faramir ourselves.  They gave us you.  You were chosen, but maybe to be human sacrifices for all we know."

The girls looked shocked.

"What do you know?" Elrond asked, more gently than before, perhaps softened by the thought of having the girls off his hands and into a Dark Lord Coalition frying pan in due time.

"Nothing!" they said, honestly enough.

"You came from the Academy of the Holy Names?" Dumbledalf inquired.

"Yes," Nellie said tentatively, "but everyone calls it Holy Hell."

"Hell… Hell…" Dumbledalf pondered.  Elrond whispered in his ear.  "Merlin's beard!  I have it!  When he fell through the Cracks of Doom!  Yes!  Yes!"

"What?" Ali asked.  All the girls were terribly confused.

"At your school, is there a scrawny, miserable fellow with only a little bit of stringy hair, who kind of leaps around awkwardly?  Rather evil?  Says things like 'preciousss' and 'tricksy?'"

They thought.

"It sounds sort of like Paula…" Julianna said.  "Or Mr. Machula."

"Mr. Powell!  It must be!" Rachel loved Mr. Powell.

"Mrs. Farrell!  She says 'tricksy' all the time!" Kathleen burst out.

"Mrs. Farrell is here…" Dumbledalf said to Elrond.  "Perhaps the director of the time warp got confused and took her instead of Smeagol?"

"Smeagol?!"  Kathleen said.  "They want the One Ring!"

"Sauron's back!" Ali exclaimed, for she and Kathleen possessed much Lord of the Rings knowledge.

Dumbledalf just smiled, and let his eyes twinkle on, which is probably a product of excessive drug use in his wild, young days at the dawn of time.

"Is he back as a killer tomato?" Emily asked.

(Ever Since You Saw This in My So-Called Tale, You've Been Writing Me These Letters to Let Me Know I'm Being Sued:  Damn.  My Disclaimer title is off-rhythm, but that's okay!  Because it's a disclaimer, and you know what that means!  Hell is back!  And, hopefully, only slightly worse than ever!  [Introduction of plots always brings some confusion.]  Yeah… so this chapter sucked… but by the next chapter, we'll have some new Lord of the Rings characters, more bad guy action, and we'll actually proceed to the next morning!  Hurray!  Also, I'm in the process of making some major, major changes to the story.  Actually, they've already been made, I just have to get my lazy ass in gear to add them in.  I took Order of the Phoenix into consideration and edited out Sirius.  Also, I took Liz out just because… yeah.  Who needs that many original sort of self-inserted Mary-Sues leaping around and raping elves and stuff?  So check that out sometime next week if you want.  I've written a lot, and maybe within the next two weeks I'll be able to start updating regularly every three days, but it depends on how fast everything pulls together.  Now, for the things I do not own!  Azya is not mine, but I wish he was, because that man is like sex on a stick.  Emily the character [who is not the author or the narrator, mind!] will definitely be liking him.  He is actually from the 1969 Polish film Colonel Wolodyjowski, or, as I call it, Colonel Wullodieookibuzoojukifski.  Toulouse is, indeed, from Baz Luhrmann's version of "Moulin Rouge!", and if you don't know that Firenze, Madame Maxime, Fleur, and Viktor are all J.K.'s, why the hell are you reading this?!  Leto and Ghanima are from The Children of Dune, but they'll be out of here soon, so don't get too attached.  I don't own Mrs. Tocci's Lit classes and half the time I don't even stay awake in them.  Nor do I own Thoughts of Chairman Mao because that would be a threat to thriving capitalism, [which God likes] and President Bush's ranch, which I also don't own and probably couldn't even steal because he spends so damn much time there.  Okay, I'm probably forgetting something important, but that's enough disclaiming for now.  Review, damn it!  Review!)