Chapter Two: A Mystery [Almost] Solved
...
"There's lettering like that in the Lord of the Rings!" she cried aloud to confirm her thoughts. Aila grabbed the books in question and cracked open the Fellowship of the Ring and came to the drawing of the west-gate of Moria. Written on that page were runes that looked similiar to those on her run-down mirror, some runes were even identical. After a few minutes of comparing and constrating, Aila pounced on her laptop that sat on her desk. She clicked it open and logged onto the internet. Cursing aloud the idiotic voice that announced she had mail, she impatiently typed a search engine into the URL and tapped her foot as she waited. And in the box she typed "Sindarin runes." Which she was sure that's what those were. Quickly she found a site that listed all of JRR Tolkien's known elf-runes. The site even had categories in which the runes were seperated to make it easier to seek specific characters.
"How handy," Aila smiled. But after almost an hour of searching she could only find a few matches. Frustrated and with a short temper, Aila bookmarked the page for future reference. Her from deepened and as she stared at the mirror. The spidery crack in the right hand corner seemed to be diminishing.
"This is getting weirder by the minute. what kind of freak would put Sindarin or Quenya or whatever on a really old mirror. I mean, dude--it's gotta date back to like the 1400's, when they still knew what arrows were!" she thought for a moment and then continued to speak to herself. "And anyway, those arrows are unlike anything I've ever seen before and I'm well-versed in archery, among many other things." She knew Sindarin pretty fluently. She had been studying it secretly since her freshman year in high school. Though she was able to speak it and write it in English letters, she was never able to read the runes of elvish. With a little research she was sure that she could figure out this mirror, whether it took her all summer or not. Once she was at Yale, though, she doubted she would have much time to worry about the mirror.
Laying down again she began to massage her temples, knowing that she would have to start packing to leave her room of 18 years for good. Throwing away childhood memories could possibly be the most difficult she would have to do since the past 18 years of her life had been happy ones--in general.
She sighed grievously as she remembered high school memories. Smile sand frowns took turns appearing on her tan face. Aila quickly got lost in her thoughts and memories, allowing the tic of her clock and the clink of her white ceiling fan to lull her trance. However, her reminiscing was broken by the loud, irritating ring of her telephone. She lazily reached over her head with her right arm to pick up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's 'Mufasa!'" Aila giggled chidishly into the phone.
"Rico's pizza," she responded. "How may I take your order?" She was hardly able to manage an even voice as she repeated the old joke.
"A bomb under your seat!" Aila's good friend responded. Aila smiled as she remembered the response expected of her.
"What was that?"
"PIZZA WITH LOTS OF MEAT!" The two 18-year-olds howled with laughter for a few moments, then they calmed and a silence reigned over the receiver.
"You know Ashley, this may as well be one of the few times that we talke like this over the phone." Aila thought the touching moment needed some serious hilarity (A/N: haha, get it?). "Okay, well--bye. See ya at the reunion.!"
"HEY," Ashley laughed from the other side of the line.
"Just kidding. I love you Ashley, but not in a homosexual way!" Ashley and Aila, best friends for five years continued the banter and talked about the "good ol' days." With many a "back in the day" interjected into the converstaion for laughs, Aila was only half paying attention to her great friend. Her mind wandered over the years since eighth grade and she sighed when she realized that many more calls of this sort would have to be made. She almost cursed herself for making so many friends.
After two hours of conversation, Aila excused herself from her friend, saying she had to begin to pack for Yale and call many others. She dedicated the rest of the day to packing and reminiscing with friends. Boxes began to litter her once-clean bedroom floor and she was reminded of old jokes and old conquests. Mysteries she and her friends had solved, gossip they had started, heard, or spread. By the end of the day her sides and cheeks hurt from continuous laughing and smiling as she spoke lightly with her friends.
The sun had set and she continued to speak with her friends until midnight, when she finally dismissed herself from her last friend of the day, looking forward to tomorrow, when she would call the rest of them. She blew imaginary bangs out of her face as she glanced around her messy room. Scattered with boxes she left them where they were, leaving an intricate maze of a path from her bed to her door. If she could remember where the boxes were, though she was quite forgetful, she would be able to get into the middle night without much trouble.
...
"There's lettering like that in the Lord of the Rings!" she cried aloud to confirm her thoughts. Aila grabbed the books in question and cracked open the Fellowship of the Ring and came to the drawing of the west-gate of Moria. Written on that page were runes that looked similiar to those on her run-down mirror, some runes were even identical. After a few minutes of comparing and constrating, Aila pounced on her laptop that sat on her desk. She clicked it open and logged onto the internet. Cursing aloud the idiotic voice that announced she had mail, she impatiently typed a search engine into the URL and tapped her foot as she waited. And in the box she typed "Sindarin runes." Which she was sure that's what those were. Quickly she found a site that listed all of JRR Tolkien's known elf-runes. The site even had categories in which the runes were seperated to make it easier to seek specific characters.
"How handy," Aila smiled. But after almost an hour of searching she could only find a few matches. Frustrated and with a short temper, Aila bookmarked the page for future reference. Her from deepened and as she stared at the mirror. The spidery crack in the right hand corner seemed to be diminishing.
"This is getting weirder by the minute. what kind of freak would put Sindarin or Quenya or whatever on a really old mirror. I mean, dude--it's gotta date back to like the 1400's, when they still knew what arrows were!" she thought for a moment and then continued to speak to herself. "And anyway, those arrows are unlike anything I've ever seen before and I'm well-versed in archery, among many other things." She knew Sindarin pretty fluently. She had been studying it secretly since her freshman year in high school. Though she was able to speak it and write it in English letters, she was never able to read the runes of elvish. With a little research she was sure that she could figure out this mirror, whether it took her all summer or not. Once she was at Yale, though, she doubted she would have much time to worry about the mirror.
Laying down again she began to massage her temples, knowing that she would have to start packing to leave her room of 18 years for good. Throwing away childhood memories could possibly be the most difficult she would have to do since the past 18 years of her life had been happy ones--in general.
She sighed grievously as she remembered high school memories. Smile sand frowns took turns appearing on her tan face. Aila quickly got lost in her thoughts and memories, allowing the tic of her clock and the clink of her white ceiling fan to lull her trance. However, her reminiscing was broken by the loud, irritating ring of her telephone. She lazily reached over her head with her right arm to pick up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's 'Mufasa!'" Aila giggled chidishly into the phone.
"Rico's pizza," she responded. "How may I take your order?" She was hardly able to manage an even voice as she repeated the old joke.
"A bomb under your seat!" Aila's good friend responded. Aila smiled as she remembered the response expected of her.
"What was that?"
"PIZZA WITH LOTS OF MEAT!" The two 18-year-olds howled with laughter for a few moments, then they calmed and a silence reigned over the receiver.
"You know Ashley, this may as well be one of the few times that we talke like this over the phone." Aila thought the touching moment needed some serious hilarity (A/N: haha, get it?). "Okay, well--bye. See ya at the reunion.!"
"HEY," Ashley laughed from the other side of the line.
"Just kidding. I love you Ashley, but not in a homosexual way!" Ashley and Aila, best friends for five years continued the banter and talked about the "good ol' days." With many a "back in the day" interjected into the converstaion for laughs, Aila was only half paying attention to her great friend. Her mind wandered over the years since eighth grade and she sighed when she realized that many more calls of this sort would have to be made. She almost cursed herself for making so many friends.
After two hours of conversation, Aila excused herself from her friend, saying she had to begin to pack for Yale and call many others. She dedicated the rest of the day to packing and reminiscing with friends. Boxes began to litter her once-clean bedroom floor and she was reminded of old jokes and old conquests. Mysteries she and her friends had solved, gossip they had started, heard, or spread. By the end of the day her sides and cheeks hurt from continuous laughing and smiling as she spoke lightly with her friends.
The sun had set and she continued to speak with her friends until midnight, when she finally dismissed herself from her last friend of the day, looking forward to tomorrow, when she would call the rest of them. She blew imaginary bangs out of her face as she glanced around her messy room. Scattered with boxes she left them where they were, leaving an intricate maze of a path from her bed to her door. If she could remember where the boxes were, though she was quite forgetful, she would be able to get into the middle night without much trouble.