by Atlantis Forester
Short summary: Jorielle Syrien never fit in with ordinary folk. Her books, writing and imagination were her world, and the few friends she had were 'outcasts' of society as well. Little did she know that the pendant given to her on her birthday would make her discover an ancient magic and give way to the biggest adventure in a lifetime in Middle-Earth with her best friend and her worst enemy. There, they will all learn that the only thing harder than being heroes is losing the ones you love.
A.N. THIS IS A NEW CHAPTER THREE!!! Also, no one will be able to reproach my Elvish. I've been studying it for almost two years, straight out of the book, and have made sure that nothing here is made up! Including the tenses and grammar! The only fault is that I have, at times, mixed up Sindarin with Quenya because of the limited vocabulary, and I occasionally have a little word-switch. But I'm sure you'll forgive me!
For the exact translations, you can e-mail me.
Chapter Three: Merry Meeting
After a night of restless sleep, all three girls felt very disgruntled and were in very unpleasant humours. Their mood darkened even more with the discovery of their want of sustaining food. Jori divided a ham sandwich into three portions, but it only resulted in two bites for each (Cheryl had consumed her part unwillingly--Ally thought it a waste; Jori found it necessary for all to eat).
Thus, when the sun had risen rather high in the sky, the only option left for the girls was to sit and squabble over who would forage for food. Ally said that she had no knowledge of plants; Cheryl did not know the distinctions between harmful and safe; Jori simply didn't know what could be edible in a untamed forest. It was then that Cheryl--by far the most discontent member of the three--began to put Ally's teeth on edge with incessant complaints. After a while, Ally's short temper burst into flames.
'Never, never happy!' she shouted. 'Always complaining and making a mess of things! I swear, if I hear that whiny voice of yours again, I'll kill you!'
'Like--' Cheryl started.
'Argh! Shut up! I can't stand this! I can't stand this!' Ally screamed, stomping her foot and throwing a fit. 'Always that insufferable "like"! I hate it! I hate it!'
Cheryl took one step forward, outraged, but Ally bellowed before she did. 'Don't come near me, you freak! Don't come near me! You're so damned annoying! Annoying! No! Beyond annoying! You shouldn't even exist! Stay away from me, you annoying little b****!' Without any hesitation, the fiery, short brunette launched into a tirade of insults, curses, and, overall, revealed herself as the owner of an admirable collection of colorful words.
When Ally was about to lunge at Cheryl's throat, the former decided that it was high time to interfere. Clapping a hand on her friend's shoulder, she hissed, '*Him le ur.' It was an Elvish phrase Jori commonly used on Ally. As they both loved the Lord of the Rings and admired the Elves, they had studied fragments of the languages as carefully as the author, J.R.R. Tolkien, had formed them.
(A.N. *Him le ur. --> Cool thy(thou) heat.)
Suddenly, a stranger seemingly appeared from thin air and exclaimed, '*Quenuvalye i lambar Eldareva!' His speech was foreign, and his voice was clear and merry--it was by far the fairest voice that ever rang in the girls' ears.
(A.N. *Quenuvalye i lambar Eldareva! --> Thou canst speak the tongues of the Elves!)
Crying out in surprise, all three girls fell backwards and toppled over each other. Jori slammed her hand on the dirt and almost immediately scrambled back up. Her widened green eyes drank in the sight of the most beautiful being she had ever seen. He was tall, golden-haired, and had not one single flaw in his graceful appearance. Though garbed in green and brown, it seemed as though he were enveloped in a soft white light. Her gaze suddenly stopped and zoned in on his ears--his pointed ears. 'A-Ally! B-blimey, he's got pointed ears! Ally! Ally! Bloody hell, he's got bloomin' pointed ears!' Jori shouted in a continuous stream, pointing at him. 'And a bow! Do you see that, Ally?! That's bloody wicked!'
Without warning, another tall figure appeared and placed himself beside his companion with fluid grace. He was as exquisite and beguiling as the first, his shimmering gold hair flowing freely down his back, and a gentle light wreathed his form as well. '*Man nar le?' he asked.
(A.N. *Man nar le? --> Who art thou[plural]?)
Jori's mind raced. That language! Fair hair... clear and light eyes... flawless and beautiful faces... green and brown garb... curved and elaborate bows... pointed ears! Realisation poured all over Jori's baffled thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was strangled and there was a lump in the back of her throat. Good god... these are... '*ELDAR!'
(A.N. *ELDAR! --> ELVES!)
'*Met nar eldar. Le œ-nar. Le nar edain,' said the second Elf with a frown upon his brow. '*Le esse na...?'
(A.N. *Met nar eldar. Le œ-nar. Le nar edain. --> We two are Elves. Thou art [plural] not. Thou art [plural] Men [humans]. *Le esse na...? --> Thee [thy] name is...?)
'Schmuck, schmuck, schmuck, schmuck... Holy jiminy cricket!' Ally jumped up and grabbed the back of Jori's jumper. 'Jori, they're fudging Elves!' she screamed in Jori's ear.
'That's what I said!' Jori bellowed back.
'I know, but I had to say it anyways!' Ally shrieked back.
'This is bloody mad!'
'I know, and stop screaming!'
'But you're screaming, too!'
'I can't help it!'
'Me neither!'
'They're fudging beautiful! They're Elves!'
'Bloody hell, I'm in hysterics!'
'I can't believe this!'
'I've never been hysterical before!'
'What's going on?!'
'We're hysterical, genius!'
'Oh my fudging arse, we're fudging hysterical!'
'Stop screaming!'
'You're still screaming, so I can scream too!'
'Shut up!' The two girls shouted at each other simultaneously. They abruptly halted, and stared at each other's white, drawn faces, panting. The silence was suddenly broken by a loud whimper from Cheryl, who was still lying on the ground, dazed by the impact her head had made against a tree root.
'Sorry,' whispered Jori tersely.
'Sorry,' replied Ally quietly.
'*Glorfindel, hin ieni engwa nar?' The Elf in green and brown looked very concerned.
(A.N. *Glorfindel, hin ieni engwa nar? --> Glorfindel, are these maidens sickly?)
'"Glorfindel"?!' Jori suddenly repeated, numb with shock. 'Bloody--'
'--hell,' Ally finished, tawny skin even paler. 'This gets crazier and crazier. We're in Middle-Earth.'
'So, like, you're, like, French?' Cheryl's--unfortunate--powers of speech were registered with dread in Ally and Jori's minds. Swivelling quickly, they saw with horror that Cheryl had recovered from her fall and had approached Glorfindel and his friend. She gave them suggestive smiles and even raised her hand to run it down the first elf's arm. 'I, like, take French courses in, like, college--isn't that, like, a coincidence?' She giggled and glanced at them with salacious intent. 'Do you, like, like movies?'--another giggle--'Most of the, like, time, like, I don't, like, watch them because I, like, am busy.' She emphasised some words slyly.
Ally stared. 'How dumb is she?' she said with blatant disbelief, immediate dilemmas at hand temporarily forgotten.
'She's having a bleeding conversation with herself,' Jori muttered, shaking her head. 'They can't understand her! English doesn't exist in Middle-Earth.' She started. 'Oh, imagine the embarassment if they could understand her!' she moaned.
Ally gripped Jori's shoulder tightly in horrified realisation. 'Oh, no. Jori, we can't communicate with anyone in Middle-Earth!'
'The problems keep coming in,' Jori groused. 'What are we going to do?'
'How good's your Elvish?' asked Ally glumly. 'Because I know I've lost most of the little of mine I had. This should have happened to me in high school--then I would have had at least a chance to be understood.'
'I'm rusty,' said Jori gloomily, 'and my grammar's bad, I'm sure. Besides, even if I did still remember it well, I'd have a very limited vocabulary.'
'Wait a minute,' said Ally suddenly. 'Glorfindel is a celebrity! He saved Frodo! Do you think he'd give me an autograph? Oh, and I want a picture, too!'
'What are you doing, *dipstick?' Jori watched in dismay as Ally started to dig through her pack. 'You're not honestly going to take a bloody picture, are you?'
(A.N. *dipstick: Brit. slang expression meaning s.o. not too bright.)
'Of course I am,' said Ally patronisingly. 'Why should I miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?!'
'You sound like an advertisement,' Jori commented.
'Ah! I found it!' Ally brandished her camera triumphantly.
'Er, Ally? I don't think this is a good idea...' Jori said. 'What if they think your camera is some sort of evil weapon?'
'Oh, don't be silly,' Ally waved her off. 'This is a new digital camera my mother bought for me a couple of weeks ago--isn't it nice? I've been dying for a chance to use it, and...'--she turned to look at Glorfindel and his friend with a beam--'they're just so photogenic!'
'Ally, what if they feel threatened and decide to attack us?!'
'Jori, you're pananoid--oh, look! I didn't know my mum packed food for me! Mmm, scones with jam and clotted cream... yum! Hang on... that means I starved myself last night for nothing!'
'Ally, you're not concentrating!'
'On what, dummy? Oh, have some! Here--ooh, I love clotted cream. Mmm...'
'Ally!'
'Ah, don't get your panties in a bunch,' Ally tutted. 'There's nothing wrong with eating scones in Middle-Earth, I'm sure. Besides, I'm hungry, and I'll be darned if anyone tries to keep my food from my stomach. Oh! Cheese! Ooh, I love my mother! Here, have some. I've got caramels, too, if you like.'
'Well,' Jori grumbled, 'at least food doesn't look threatening.' She hesitated for a split second before helping herself to a scone and a generous portion of cheese. 'Mmm, you're right--it's very tasty,' she said thickly through a mouthful of clotted cream.
'Argh! You glutton!' screeched Ally, glaring at Jori as the dark-haired girl scooped up four more scones and three chunks of cheese. 'You're eating all my food!'
'You're the one who offered it to me,' said Jori pointedly.
'But I never said to take so much!'
'Feh,' replied Jori after stuffing an entire pastry in her mouth.
'Feh. No more for you, guzzler,' grumbled Ally. 'Anyhow, Jori, we have to focus on the immediate problems at hand.'
'Ally, that's what I've been trying to tell you all along!' Jori growled.
'First things first. Go tell them we're not enemies.' Ally nudged Jori forward not-so-gently.
'Er...' Jori found herself looking up at the faces of the elves. She was a tall girl, but these creatures towered over her, making her feel small and insignificant. 'Er... m-mellon,' she stammered, pointing at herself. 'Mellon,' she repeated, pointing to each of her companions.
Ally gaped. 'Now is not the time to talk about fruits, Jori!' she yelled in disbelief.
'The Elvish word for friend is "mellon"!' Jori shot back. 'With two "L"s instead of one, if I may add."
'Oh, yeah,' Ally said sheepishly, 'that's right...' She stopped and glared at Jori. 'Goodness... how primitive! Can't you say "We come in peace", like in those alien movies? Or at least use a plural form of "friend"?'
'I don't know how to say--'
'*Quenuvalye i lambar Eldareva,' said one of the Elves with finality.
(A.N. This was already translated above, but I'll say it again, anyway. 'Thou canst speak the tongues of the Elves.')
'Oh, I know what that one means,' commented Ally. 'He thinks that we can speak their language.'
'Er, then...' Jori paused before simply nodding. 'Argh, this is too difficult! Er... Rivendell?'
Ally stomped not-so-discreetly on her friend's foot. 'Don't sound so grumpy!' was her advice.
'Ow!' Jori slowly let out a breath, trying to soothe her simmering irritation. If only we could speak Westron, at least! she thought furiously. Suddenly, she felt something warm pulse against her collarbone. Bloody hell! What--
B-bump. B-bump. B-bump.
Jori struggled not to gasp as she felt an unbearable heat soar up her throat. Choking, she tried to ignore the burning pain invading her lungs. Glancing sideways, she noticed Ally and Cheryl having similar reactions to hers. They were writhing wildly in place, hands around their necks.
B-bump. The searing pain abruptly sharpened, then gave way to a disturbing tingle. Mechanically, Jori raised her right hand to where the warmth and pulse had been. Her shaking fingers touched something cool and smooth. My pendant...
Ally swallowed experimentally. 'What happened? Did...' Her eyes widened as she registered what had left her lips. Instead of the slurred and accented English she normally used, a small series of utterly foreign sounds had emerged.
Realisation dawned on Jori. That must be the Westron tongue, I'm sure! Whatever it was that happened just now must have triggered this, because I can understand what she's saying! Clearing her throat, Jori made her own attempt. 'A-ally?' She frowned--it sounded as it had ever been. Well, of course, she mentally reprimanded herself. It's her name, after all... I don't think it would have changed. She tried again. 'Ally... I think we're speaking Westron.' Success.This time, her words were not in English.
Ally pointed an accusing finger at her friend, shrieking, 'I knew it! There's something fishy going on here!'
The forgotten Elves spoke again--this time in Westron. 'Are you well?' one asked politely.
Jori swallowed. 'As well as we'll ever be,' she croaked.
Ally leaned weakly against a tree. 'Holy jiminy cricket...'
'What's going on?' someone demanded shrilly. 'What... what am I saying?!'
'Westron,' Ally replied unwillingly. 'Be quiet. My nerves are already in pretty bad shape--I don't need you to make them worse.'
'Er... We're looking for Rivendell,' Jori said slowly.
The two Elves spoke softly to each other. 'We will help you,' they said finally in a kind manner. The taller Elf lightly tipped his head. 'I am Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond.'
'And I am Legolas, a messenger from my father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood,' said Legolas, tipping his head in the same gesture as Glorfindel.
'We are...' Ally stopped to clear her throat and nudged Jori's leg with her foot.
'We... are travelers,' Jori improvised instantly. 'I'm Jorielle Syrien. This is Ally Clark, and this is Cheryl Brooks.' Unsure of the proper decorum required, she bowed hesitantly with her palms against her thighs in the Japanese manner. Ally and Cheryl dubiously copied her movements.
When they straightened, they noticed with dismay the amusement on the faces of Legolas and Glorfindel. Whoops, wrong move, thought Jori sheepishly. 'Er, this is the way we greet strangers in... in our country.' Good cover, she cheered to herself.
'Oh boy,' Ally muttered in a low voice. 'I can't believe we're making fools out of ourselves in front of celebrities.'
A.N. *wipes forehead* Whew. Well, that's the third chapter done! Don't expect me back for a rather long time... I thought that I'd get a lot of work done during the summer, but I ended up spending 60% of my summer studying, 38% reading, and merely 2% writing... I'm sorry! *cower* And now I don't even have the option of time to write on my hands, anymore! *fervently* I promise to all my readers that the next vacation I have, I'll devote myself entirely to writing!
Now, review! The more reviews I get, the more I get energy to write!
Oh, and if you would like new and VERY improved pictures of Jori, Ally, Legolas, and Glorfindel (they're all I have for now), then e-mail me!
Cheers,
~Lanti~
PS: A lot of thanks to my loyal friend Ally-chan, who somehow has the patience to deal with my horrible HTML skills (or so she claims)!
Ally: Keh. Your HTML sucks! *to the reader* Since Lanti-chan's computer doesn't want her to log onto FanFiction.Net, she e-mails me all her new chapters and-
Lanti: This isn't your fic! Get your own!
Ally: Shaddup! I'm workin' here! *thwaps Lanti* Anyway, once I get the new chapters, I read them (a perk) then post them. The thing is, Lanti-chan's HTML skills are so god-awful that I end up having to fix them! I had to fix this chapter five times!
Lanti: Poor baby.
Ally: Yes I am- HEY! *chases Lanti around the room*
