I, EHAB, would like to thank our reviewers for being so complimentary and
for even taking the time to review. However, I would like to stop and
answer the couple of "you'd better not's" that have come up in the recent
reviews. I was first told that we had better not put Legolas in the middle
of battle or allow him to be hurt in any way. Then I was told that if Sivi
did anything to save the day, it would be considered "mary-suish." I would
like to take the time to ask readers, speaking very seriously, what would
NOT be mary-suish? As far as I can see, even writing a fic in which a child
of Middle-Earth and a child of our world are united is "mary-suish". That's
the point: to take anything and everything that can't happen in real life
and make it happen in the story while at the same time making the story
interesting and entertaining. Would you rather - and again I ask this in
all honesty, and hope I will be given several opinions in new reviews -
that we let Gil-galad die, or that we have Sivi or some other member of the
group rescue him? If Sivi does nothing extraordinary, what will happen to
Gil-galad? Please reply as soon as is convenient.
ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy
And to make note of some things: there are references to Wizard of Oz, Narnia, Joan of Ark, and Terry Pratchet. Any other's were added by EHAB and I can't think of them right now. And I will draw a picture for anyone who can tell me where the story Andrea thinks of comes from. ~Pheona~
One piece of advice: Never mess with an elf-friend on the edge.
Piece by piece, the two girls began removing the mail of Gil- galad's armor-bearers, leaving the senseless creatures only their white tunics and leggings. Sivi noticed apprehensively that the young Elves wore no gauntlets, but only slender golden bracers about their left wrists. She realized that these two would be expected to wield nothing but light bows, and perhaps a spear, so as to be more able to carry the gear of their sovereign. Sivi could use a sword. Sivi could throw a spear. Sivi could swing an axe. Sivi could not shoot a bow worth a bent penny.
"So, how do you put this stuff on?" Andrea asked.
Resignedly, Sivi helped the younger girl on with the strips of cloth that wound round the body to protect it from the weight and sharp edges of the armor. She slid the glittering mithril mailshirt over Andrea's head and wondered why the Elves even bothered with plate armor at all. Then she began meticulously fitting the plate armor about Andrea's diminutively slender form. All went well until she tried to affix the smaller of the two Elves' breastplates around Andrea's tiny torso. "We are in so much trouble," she murmured, watching the heavy piece of metal nearly slide off Andrea's left shoulder. The body of the young girl might, with some half-hearted wriggling, be made to fit through the hole designed for the warrior's neck. With a sigh, Sivi plunked the dull gold helmet down over Andrea's head, unsure whether to laugh or cry when it sank down so far that the younger girl could not see out of her glasses.
"Do I HAVE to wear this thing?" Andrea asked piteously.
"I didn't force you to come with me," Sivi reminded her friend, "but if you do want to come with me, then yes, you have to wear it. Did your mother ever let you ride your bike without a helmet?"
"No."
"Well, you'll be doing things a lot more dangerous than falling off a bicycle when we get to Orodruin. You are not going to face ten thousands of orcs, all nine Nazgul, armies of humans who've turned traitor, and the Enemy himself without proper protective gear." "Point conceded, but how am I gonna fight all that stuff if I can't SEE?"
"One moment, let me think." Sivi paused, then nodded resolutely. "Here: you can have a bit of my padding cloth; we'll tuck it into your helmet so that it will fit a bit better. How's that?"
"Cool."
Sivi took the helmet and upturned it. She lined the top of it with a strip of thick, rough material. With a swift gesture she placed it upright on Andrea's head. It was not perfect, but it was quite an improvement. Cocking her head with a critical glint in her eye, she asked,
"Better, then?"
"Much," grinned Andrea.
One of the Elven warriors stirred with a very muffled protest. Dredging up a paraphrased quote from C. S. Lewis' The Last Battle, Sivi knelt and said,
"Friend, I have treated thee ill this day, but there was need. Perhaps if we meet again someday, I shall do thee a better turn."
A tribute to the noble bearing of Elves, the young warrior made an attempt at sitting up straighter and nodded gravely and with great ceremony. He did not understand, but he was face to face with a lady, and a courteous lady (gentle in word if not in deed), who was obviously in rather an emergency situation. If she needed his armor. he couldn't think why she should, but if it helped her. well, he only hoped his lord, King Gil-galad, would understand. It wasn't exactly as if he could do anything about the situation, at any rate; whoever the girl was, she was an extraordinary fighter, and what was more, knew her knots. His cords were tight, though not painful, and he could not begin to go about breaking them.
"I have. arranged. for someone to find you before long, but after we have gone far enough that you cannot follow us. Will you tell me where are your mounts?" she asked, undoing his gag for a moment.
"My lady, I do not understand, but if you are in distress -"
"I am," she put in softly and earnestly; "I go to save the life of your king."
Astounded, he murmured,
"They are stabled with King Gil-galad's own steed, in the outer ring of the city," he murmured. "They are dappled gray stallions, so alike as to be twin foals. The king's horse is white."
"I thank you, my friend. I must place this about your mouth again, but it will be removed soon enough; else I should not do it with, as Marcus Brutus said, 'half so good a will.'"
"I know not who is this Marcus Brutus, but I hold no ill will for you, my lady. Bind my mouth, if you must -" and the elf coined one of our most famous expressions, "- for I do not intend to bite you."
With a wry smile, Sivi gently but firmly wrapped the cloth back into place through the elf's teeth and around his head. Not knowing what else to say, she stood up and began to gird herself in his armor. He watched her skeptically, raising his eyebrows as he realized that she knew what she was about. When she had done, he gave her an approving nod.
"May God bless you, friend," she whispered, and behind the gag he smiled.
"It disturbs me to no end," Andrea said dryly, "that you look good in Elven armor. You remind me of some one, but I can't think who it is."
The Elf grinned at Sivi, who grinned back. The armor-bearer seemed to have figured out that Andrea was not quite as suited as Sivi for this kind of work. As they turned to leave, Andrea looked up and said,
"Oh, I know who it is! You look like Joan of Arc!"
The younger girl then promptly proceeded to miss her footing on the stairs outside of the armor-bearers' quarters and topple in a rather undignified manner down to the landing below. She looked like a bronze ball of tinfoil set to rolling. Sivi turned back to the young elf.
"Will you please pray for us?" she asked pleadingly.
With raised brows, he nodded vehemently. In a way, Sivi found that reassuring, but in another way. she did not.
Legolas could not think. His mind was reeling. It was not possible. He was looking into a mirror, staring at a young elf with bright eyes, golden hair, high cheekbones, a broad nose - he was looking at himself. It had to be. Yet, it couldn't be! In this time, he had not yet been born.
"Greetings," he said in a hushed tone.
"And to you," replied the other elf gravely. "I am Thranduil of the Sindarin."
No. No, no, no, no. Legolas nearly blacked out. His father, his father was here, a younger elf without the venerability of great age, with only the innocence of his youth.
NO.
"I am Legolas," he managed. "I. am also of the Sindarin."
"Then we are kin," said Thranduil with a light smile.
Legolas came as close as any elf had ever come to losing his mind without actually managing to snap.
"So, did you volunteer or were you drafted?" Thranduil asked.
"All the free peoples of Ea would fight against the evil of Mordor," replied Legolas, glad for a change of the subject, "but I was drafted before I could volunteer."
"Ah. So was I."
"When do we begin the day's march?" Legolas inquired.
"Whenever King Gil-galad arrives."
Andrea looked around at the elves preparing for war. Half memories of fantasy stories gone mad played in her head. One story set itself into her mind. It went somewhat like this: Two girls went to kill a Grendel to save the world. Trick was, the only thing than would kill it was a cursed sword that would change any human who touched it into another Grendel. One of the girls went for the love of an elf, the other for the friendship of the first. The second had died before the end of the first book. A hard lump formed in her stomach and her throat went dry. Andrea reminded herself that she was in Tolkien's word, which had no monster creating swords (merely Gollum creating rings). What WAS she doing here?!
"Stay close and let me talk." Sivi commanded. Her voice wavered in a un- Sivi-like fashion.
There were times Andrea wondered at her choices as she made them. Now was one of those times. There is nothing without loyalty, because all is loneliness without friendship. She had heard that somewhere. It was true now. Andrea felt like the Robin to Sivi's Batman. (Or perhaps the Sam to Sivi's Frodo)
'Well Toto, we're not in Kansas and we missed oz and quite possibly the lamp post too.'
She would follow Sivi to wherever this mad plan of hers would leave them. Then she intended to find Legolas and live the rest of her life in a world of cuddles, happy endings, and sunshine. She could question her sanity along the way. "In life, as in breakfast cereal, it is always best to read the instructions on the box." She mumbled quietly.
And to make note of some things: there are references to Wizard of Oz, Narnia, Joan of Ark, and Terry Pratchet. Any other's were added by EHAB and I can't think of them right now. And I will draw a picture for anyone who can tell me where the story Andrea thinks of comes from. ~Pheona~
One piece of advice: Never mess with an elf-friend on the edge.
Piece by piece, the two girls began removing the mail of Gil- galad's armor-bearers, leaving the senseless creatures only their white tunics and leggings. Sivi noticed apprehensively that the young Elves wore no gauntlets, but only slender golden bracers about their left wrists. She realized that these two would be expected to wield nothing but light bows, and perhaps a spear, so as to be more able to carry the gear of their sovereign. Sivi could use a sword. Sivi could throw a spear. Sivi could swing an axe. Sivi could not shoot a bow worth a bent penny.
"So, how do you put this stuff on?" Andrea asked.
Resignedly, Sivi helped the younger girl on with the strips of cloth that wound round the body to protect it from the weight and sharp edges of the armor. She slid the glittering mithril mailshirt over Andrea's head and wondered why the Elves even bothered with plate armor at all. Then she began meticulously fitting the plate armor about Andrea's diminutively slender form. All went well until she tried to affix the smaller of the two Elves' breastplates around Andrea's tiny torso. "We are in so much trouble," she murmured, watching the heavy piece of metal nearly slide off Andrea's left shoulder. The body of the young girl might, with some half-hearted wriggling, be made to fit through the hole designed for the warrior's neck. With a sigh, Sivi plunked the dull gold helmet down over Andrea's head, unsure whether to laugh or cry when it sank down so far that the younger girl could not see out of her glasses.
"Do I HAVE to wear this thing?" Andrea asked piteously.
"I didn't force you to come with me," Sivi reminded her friend, "but if you do want to come with me, then yes, you have to wear it. Did your mother ever let you ride your bike without a helmet?"
"No."
"Well, you'll be doing things a lot more dangerous than falling off a bicycle when we get to Orodruin. You are not going to face ten thousands of orcs, all nine Nazgul, armies of humans who've turned traitor, and the Enemy himself without proper protective gear." "Point conceded, but how am I gonna fight all that stuff if I can't SEE?"
"One moment, let me think." Sivi paused, then nodded resolutely. "Here: you can have a bit of my padding cloth; we'll tuck it into your helmet so that it will fit a bit better. How's that?"
"Cool."
Sivi took the helmet and upturned it. She lined the top of it with a strip of thick, rough material. With a swift gesture she placed it upright on Andrea's head. It was not perfect, but it was quite an improvement. Cocking her head with a critical glint in her eye, she asked,
"Better, then?"
"Much," grinned Andrea.
One of the Elven warriors stirred with a very muffled protest. Dredging up a paraphrased quote from C. S. Lewis' The Last Battle, Sivi knelt and said,
"Friend, I have treated thee ill this day, but there was need. Perhaps if we meet again someday, I shall do thee a better turn."
A tribute to the noble bearing of Elves, the young warrior made an attempt at sitting up straighter and nodded gravely and with great ceremony. He did not understand, but he was face to face with a lady, and a courteous lady (gentle in word if not in deed), who was obviously in rather an emergency situation. If she needed his armor. he couldn't think why she should, but if it helped her. well, he only hoped his lord, King Gil-galad, would understand. It wasn't exactly as if he could do anything about the situation, at any rate; whoever the girl was, she was an extraordinary fighter, and what was more, knew her knots. His cords were tight, though not painful, and he could not begin to go about breaking them.
"I have. arranged. for someone to find you before long, but after we have gone far enough that you cannot follow us. Will you tell me where are your mounts?" she asked, undoing his gag for a moment.
"My lady, I do not understand, but if you are in distress -"
"I am," she put in softly and earnestly; "I go to save the life of your king."
Astounded, he murmured,
"They are stabled with King Gil-galad's own steed, in the outer ring of the city," he murmured. "They are dappled gray stallions, so alike as to be twin foals. The king's horse is white."
"I thank you, my friend. I must place this about your mouth again, but it will be removed soon enough; else I should not do it with, as Marcus Brutus said, 'half so good a will.'"
"I know not who is this Marcus Brutus, but I hold no ill will for you, my lady. Bind my mouth, if you must -" and the elf coined one of our most famous expressions, "- for I do not intend to bite you."
With a wry smile, Sivi gently but firmly wrapped the cloth back into place through the elf's teeth and around his head. Not knowing what else to say, she stood up and began to gird herself in his armor. He watched her skeptically, raising his eyebrows as he realized that she knew what she was about. When she had done, he gave her an approving nod.
"May God bless you, friend," she whispered, and behind the gag he smiled.
"It disturbs me to no end," Andrea said dryly, "that you look good in Elven armor. You remind me of some one, but I can't think who it is."
The Elf grinned at Sivi, who grinned back. The armor-bearer seemed to have figured out that Andrea was not quite as suited as Sivi for this kind of work. As they turned to leave, Andrea looked up and said,
"Oh, I know who it is! You look like Joan of Arc!"
The younger girl then promptly proceeded to miss her footing on the stairs outside of the armor-bearers' quarters and topple in a rather undignified manner down to the landing below. She looked like a bronze ball of tinfoil set to rolling. Sivi turned back to the young elf.
"Will you please pray for us?" she asked pleadingly.
With raised brows, he nodded vehemently. In a way, Sivi found that reassuring, but in another way. she did not.
Legolas could not think. His mind was reeling. It was not possible. He was looking into a mirror, staring at a young elf with bright eyes, golden hair, high cheekbones, a broad nose - he was looking at himself. It had to be. Yet, it couldn't be! In this time, he had not yet been born.
"Greetings," he said in a hushed tone.
"And to you," replied the other elf gravely. "I am Thranduil of the Sindarin."
No. No, no, no, no. Legolas nearly blacked out. His father, his father was here, a younger elf without the venerability of great age, with only the innocence of his youth.
NO.
"I am Legolas," he managed. "I. am also of the Sindarin."
"Then we are kin," said Thranduil with a light smile.
Legolas came as close as any elf had ever come to losing his mind without actually managing to snap.
"So, did you volunteer or were you drafted?" Thranduil asked.
"All the free peoples of Ea would fight against the evil of Mordor," replied Legolas, glad for a change of the subject, "but I was drafted before I could volunteer."
"Ah. So was I."
"When do we begin the day's march?" Legolas inquired.
"Whenever King Gil-galad arrives."
Andrea looked around at the elves preparing for war. Half memories of fantasy stories gone mad played in her head. One story set itself into her mind. It went somewhat like this: Two girls went to kill a Grendel to save the world. Trick was, the only thing than would kill it was a cursed sword that would change any human who touched it into another Grendel. One of the girls went for the love of an elf, the other for the friendship of the first. The second had died before the end of the first book. A hard lump formed in her stomach and her throat went dry. Andrea reminded herself that she was in Tolkien's word, which had no monster creating swords (merely Gollum creating rings). What WAS she doing here?!
"Stay close and let me talk." Sivi commanded. Her voice wavered in a un- Sivi-like fashion.
There were times Andrea wondered at her choices as she made them. Now was one of those times. There is nothing without loyalty, because all is loneliness without friendship. She had heard that somewhere. It was true now. Andrea felt like the Robin to Sivi's Batman. (Or perhaps the Sam to Sivi's Frodo)
'Well Toto, we're not in Kansas and we missed oz and quite possibly the lamp post too.'
She would follow Sivi to wherever this mad plan of hers would leave them. Then she intended to find Legolas and live the rest of her life in a world of cuddles, happy endings, and sunshine. She could question her sanity along the way. "In life, as in breakfast cereal, it is always best to read the instructions on the box." She mumbled quietly.