Disclaimer: None of this is mine, nada. All belongs to Tolkien the Great except for any OCs and blunders.
Synopsis: [Middle-earth from a more sensible perspective] When you can't ride a horse or speak Westron, and realise that from your point of view, living conditions are positively medieval, the only thing on your mind is not stealing Aragorn, romancing Legolas or slaying Orcs. It's getting home where you belong.
Genre: Humour/Adventure
Written by: Myrielle
(Mis)Adventures in Middle-earth
II.
When I was a little girl, my first role-model, as with most little girls, had been Barbie. Who didn't admire Barbie back then? Forget about psychologists or sociologists who claim that Barbie, with her impossible measurements, is responsible for eating disorders, low self-esteem and even the cause of some women going for breast enhancement because of said low esteem. I mean, we didn't even know what breasts were at that time, at least I didn't. All I knew was that Barbie was pretty, had a beautiful wardrobe and a handsome accessory known as the Ken Doll. Even better, she had a horse AND a dog. Barbie had it made for life, as far as the six-year old me was concerned.
When I was not so little and was exposed to cartoon networks, I upgraded my role-model from Barbie to She-Ra. They were both blonde and beautiful and wore short skirts. But She-Ra was better. She not only had a horse, but her horse could fly (Spirit: Take that, Prancer!). Like Barbie, She-Ra also had a somewhat forgettable but cute male accessory. But unlike Barbie, She-Ra had a sword which she used constantly to kick Hordak's butt. Plus, she was a princess; a gorgeous, sword-wielding Princess who had a castle AND a flying horse. Who didn't want to be She-Ra? Unless you were one of those little girls who wanted to be Wonder Woman, which was also perfectly understandable.
Barbie and She-Ra were perfect with a capital 'P'. Barbie and She-Ra were Mary-Sues. They were the Mothers of all Mary-Sues. And the worst part was, for the first time in more than twelve years, I had begun wishing that I was one of them, or at least one of those Mary-Sues that populated the world of Tolkien fan fiction. I'd always thought of myself as a person with a reasonable amount of integrity but at that moment, trudging after Legolas through the woods, soaked to the skin and having to deal with the uncomfortable sensation of wet socks, wet sneakers, wet underwear and jeans that felt like they weighed a ton, I was ready to toss my "stick to Canon and Character" stance out the window and become a freak version of Rainbow Brite with bronze/gold/red/ hair that had multiple highlights and amber/amethyst/silver eyes. At least if I were a Mary-Sue, my heart wouldn't be hammering in my chest after walking a pathetically short distance, my hair and clothes would be miraculously dry and I would have Legolas eating out of my hand. Either that or we would have already done the deed.
Just thinking about that made me snort with laughter but the sound died in my throat at the stern look that the Elf gave me over his shoulder. 'Authors who think that Legolas is going to fall at the feet of their made-up characters have no idea what an Elf truly is,' I thought. Having had some time to observe Legolas, I could see why the Valar loved his kind and cared for them. He was beautiful. It was not the kind of effeminate beauty that some artists and writers portrayed him as having, nor did Orlando Bloom's pretty-boy movie star looks even come close. Elvish beauty went far beyond the skin. One saw it in the leonine grace with which they moved, in the nobility and strength that radiated from them like light from lamps in the night. It was an inborn quality that made them mesmerising to behold, and downright scary when they were stern. If I'd known back at the river that Legolas was a genuine Elf, I would never have even attempted to touch him, let alone pull his ear.
Shivering slightly and trying my best not to trip over tree roots hidden in the long green grass, I wondered where Legolas was taking me. At least I knew I was safe. 'It could have been worse,' I consoled myself. 'You might have ended up in a troll cave, or in Far Harad or Rhun. Or Mordor." I gulped at that thought. 'Please please please let the War of the Ring have happened already.' I was confused and vexed as it was. I didn't need the threat of a giant flaming eyeball waiting to devour the world hanging over my head as well.
Still, in spite of it all, I couldn't deny that the Tolkien fan in me was wildly excited, even ecstatic. I was in Middle-earth! I had seen a real Elf! This was every fan's wet dream and I was living it. 'If only I'd bothered learning some Elvish!' So far, my elvish vocabulary existed of three words and I didn't think that saying "Adar", "Yrch" or even "Mellon" was going to help. Legolas was neither my father nor an Orc, and if I called him friend in his tongue, it might have made him even more suspicious than he already was. Until I could pick up some Westron or Elvish, my questions were going to have to wait. Still, nothing that Legolas could have told me would have answered the question that loomed foremost in my mind: Just how in the heck was this possible? Leaving the issue of the wishing well aside, what I was trying to reconcile in my mind was how what I had always believed to be a very well-detailed, made-up, fictional universe was actually every bit as real as my own world. How had Tolkien-
"Wait a minute...Tolkien," I whispered, stopping in my tracks as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. This world was fact, not fiction. And in order for Tolkien to have written about it in such great detail... "Tolkien was here!" I practically shouted. "Oh my God, Tolkien was here!"
In front of me, Legolas swiftly spun around. I thought he was going to scold me or something but instead he stared at me, an expression of surprise on his face. After a few seconds of hesitation, he opened his mouth and his next words almost floored me. "John Tolkien?"
"You knew Tolkien?" I gawked at the Elf. "I mean, of course you would have met him." How else could Tolkien have gotten hold of Frodo's Red Book? Or was it one of the copies that he had read? Didn't Gondor have one? Or was it the Shire? My mind was almost in overload, shooting off in all directions at once. Tolkien had been hobnobbing with the Fellowship! He might even have been here during the War of the Ring. Heck, he might even have seen the Ring. I wondered if like me, he had fallen down a well or gotten to Middle-earth by some other way.
For one moment, Legolas actually looked frustrated. I could empathise with that. If not for the language barrier between us I would have plied him with questions and he would have done the same with me. But as things were, we couldn't do anything except look at each other before giving up any notions of communication and continued walking to wherever he was leading me.
If I had known that Legolas was going to stick me in a tree, I would have tried to suggest that he bring me to Gondor or the city of Ithilien instead. Or even Thranduil's caves. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with trees whatsoever. They are soothing to the eye, provide shelter and help reduce carbon dioxide levels. It was climbing trees, particularly those of the tall variety that I had a problem with. Even if I did have a ladder to help me.
After waiting half an hour while I alternated between staring up the tree and eyeing the ladder with distrust, Legolas pushed me towards it, took my hands, placed them on the rung and pointed firmly upwards. "Okay, okay, don't get testy. It's not my fault that the only things I've ever climbed are stairs right?" I muttered. That and the fact that I was a teensy weensy bit scared of heights. Not that I would ever admit that. Still, I did as I was ordered. One did not say 'no' to an intimidating elvish stare. I'd thought that Hugo Weaving had the whole elvish stare thing down to pat but being the recipient of such a gaze from a real Elf was quite a uncomfortable experience. Resolutely, with my eyes fixed on the each rung that I ascended, I finally made my way up to the flet and clambering out onto it, found myself face to face with four Elves who were staring at me with obvious interest.
"Uh...Hi?" I didn't know what else to do. They were whispering to each other, but still looking at me. I felt a little bit like a zoo animal, but couldn't really complain since I knew my attire was nothing short of bizarre to them. Thankfully Legolas arrived just then and their attention shifted to him. While they conversed quietly, I waited, feeling awkward and trying my best not to shiver whenever the breeze blew across the flet. My ears perked up when I heard the word "Faramir" and then "Aragorn." So, there was a good chance that I was in Ithilien then. Why else would the Elves have mentioned Faramir? If I had been in Mirkwood, Legolas would have to take me to his Father. So if I were in Ithilien, then Legolas would have to take me to Faramir since he was the Prince of the land. Once again excitement turned my stomach into a coil of knots. So Sauron had already been defeated! And I might get to meet Faramir and Eowyn, or Aragorn and Arwen. It was just too bad that chances were that Frodo, Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond may have already sailed for the Undying Lands. I would really have liked to see them and their Rings.
When the Elves were done talking, Legolas walked over to me. "So, are we going now?" I pointed at the ladder and then downwards. He smiled briefly, before unclasping the soft grey cloak he wore and placing it over my shoulders. So he had seen me shivering. "Thank you," I said softly, pulling it tighter about me. Instantly delicious warmth seeped through my damp clothing and into my skin. "Well, we should go-" I'd started to walk towards the ladder but to my surprise, he put a hand on my arm and stopped me. "Huh?"
Legolas pointed to himself, and then the ladder, before pointing to me and motioning that I was to stay in place. "What? You are going off and you expect me to stay here? But...but..." I sputtered. I didn't want to be left here alone with strange Elves. It wasn't as though Legolas and I were bosom buddies but at least I knew this Elf, had read about what he had done, and he was definitely more familiar than the rest. Besides, I wanted to go see whoever he was meeting. Legolas motioned again that I was to stay and with that, went back to the opening in the flet and disappeared down it.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Legolas." Disappointed, I sat down, feeling tired for the first time since my arrival. The adrenaline rush was finally wearing off now and before I knew it, I let out a giant yawn. "Oops, sorry," I blushed and apologised to the Elves. Turning away from them, I lay down on my side and curled up into a foetal position, my head pillowed on my arm. Maybe I could snatch forty winks before he returned. He was coming back wasn't he? Why didn't he bring me along with him? And just where the heck had the doggone well disappeared to? I was still wondering about these when sleep finally overtook me.
Someone was shaking my shoulder and lost in half-dreams, I thought it was Carrie. Grumbling, I turned over on my side and shrugged off the hand. "G'way," I mumbled. The shaking continued until I finally snapped open my eyes and let out an unmistakably irate "Bloody hell!" before realising that it was Legolas who was bent over me, trying to wake me up. "Oh... sorry." As I got to my feet, I noticed that it was a lot darker now, almost night time in fact. I'd slept the whole afternoon and evening away. My mouth felt dry and licking my lips, I wished I had my grape-flavoured Mentos. Too bad that my sweets were in my shoulder bag which was currently back on Earth.
When we had descended the tree, I found two horses, one bridled and saddled, the other bereft of any riding gear, waiting for us at the bottom. They were beautiful, shining in the pale moonlight, one chestnut gold, the other white-grey. I knew that wherever next we were going, Legolas meant for me to ride the saddled chestnut horse but I had no riding experience to speak of. Technically, I knew what to do, and even how to give a horse directions. But that was all book knowledge. Noting my apprehensiveness, Legolas grasped the bridle and spoke softly to the chestnut, which flickered its ears and looked at the Elf with soft black eyes. Whatever he said to the horse, I was thankful for it. The chestnut remained still while I mounted and he needed no cue from me, but followed Legolas's mount. All I had to do was hang tight and make sure that I didn't fall off. Considering my death grip on the reins and the pommel of the saddle, that was unlikely to happen. It was with no small amount of envy and admiration that I watched the Elf as he rode, secure on the bare back of his horse, hands lightly grasping the white flowing mane.
With the cold night air streaming in my face and hair, I was glad of the cloak tucked around me. I wondered where we were going, but when we finally rode over a low hill and I saw the glittering river and the lights of the city below, I knew exactly where I was. We had reached Osgiliath, and far away, I caught a gleam of white in the dark. It was Minas Tirith, the main city of Gondor, and in all probability, my next destination.
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Author's Notes: Dear all, thanks for reading. As always, useful C&C is always appreciated. So sorry for the long delay. I had this partially written awhile back but only tonight all of it has fallen into place. Plus, my father has reared his ugly head in my life once again so naturally, I had other things to worry about. Thanks for all your patience!
(Review List)
Laurel Whitney: Thanks for pointing out all the technical aspects of my writing. I'm pretty sure this new chapter should be okay. As for the tapping, ff.net's responsible for that. ^_^ Hope Jan has more going for her now in terms of character as well. But you'll definitely get to know her more as the story proceeds.
Tymiki: Thanks for the compliments! As for Jan learning Westron... now that you know Tolkien has preceded her, expect her to be doing some serious studying. After all, that's the only way to learn a new language.
Cooncat: Well, it is fun writing this story!
Flamin' June: Wow, thanks for putting on your fav. list. Expect more humour when Jan starts living in Minas Tirith. I have some Jan-torture in mind. *wicked cackle* There is a wealth of humour to be tapped from modern girl falls into Middle-earth situations, wish more people would see that. And yep, more information on Jan will arrive as the chapters proceed.
Anne: Glad you think so! ^_^
Badalirn: Sorry to keep you waiting. I'll try to update as regularly as possible but that seems a little remote at the moment, considering what I've mentioned in my AN. Still, will try.
Evil Whimsey: I'll try my best. The last thing I want for Jan is to turn into an MS... Eru forbid! If I ever start veering towards that, check me. Please!
Synopsis: [Middle-earth from a more sensible perspective] When you can't ride a horse or speak Westron, and realise that from your point of view, living conditions are positively medieval, the only thing on your mind is not stealing Aragorn, romancing Legolas or slaying Orcs. It's getting home where you belong.
Genre: Humour/Adventure
Written by: Myrielle
(Mis)Adventures in Middle-earth
II.
When I was a little girl, my first role-model, as with most little girls, had been Barbie. Who didn't admire Barbie back then? Forget about psychologists or sociologists who claim that Barbie, with her impossible measurements, is responsible for eating disorders, low self-esteem and even the cause of some women going for breast enhancement because of said low esteem. I mean, we didn't even know what breasts were at that time, at least I didn't. All I knew was that Barbie was pretty, had a beautiful wardrobe and a handsome accessory known as the Ken Doll. Even better, she had a horse AND a dog. Barbie had it made for life, as far as the six-year old me was concerned.
When I was not so little and was exposed to cartoon networks, I upgraded my role-model from Barbie to She-Ra. They were both blonde and beautiful and wore short skirts. But She-Ra was better. She not only had a horse, but her horse could fly (Spirit: Take that, Prancer!). Like Barbie, She-Ra also had a somewhat forgettable but cute male accessory. But unlike Barbie, She-Ra had a sword which she used constantly to kick Hordak's butt. Plus, she was a princess; a gorgeous, sword-wielding Princess who had a castle AND a flying horse. Who didn't want to be She-Ra? Unless you were one of those little girls who wanted to be Wonder Woman, which was also perfectly understandable.
Barbie and She-Ra were perfect with a capital 'P'. Barbie and She-Ra were Mary-Sues. They were the Mothers of all Mary-Sues. And the worst part was, for the first time in more than twelve years, I had begun wishing that I was one of them, or at least one of those Mary-Sues that populated the world of Tolkien fan fiction. I'd always thought of myself as a person with a reasonable amount of integrity but at that moment, trudging after Legolas through the woods, soaked to the skin and having to deal with the uncomfortable sensation of wet socks, wet sneakers, wet underwear and jeans that felt like they weighed a ton, I was ready to toss my "stick to Canon and Character" stance out the window and become a freak version of Rainbow Brite with bronze/gold/red/ hair that had multiple highlights and amber/amethyst/silver eyes. At least if I were a Mary-Sue, my heart wouldn't be hammering in my chest after walking a pathetically short distance, my hair and clothes would be miraculously dry and I would have Legolas eating out of my hand. Either that or we would have already done the deed.
Just thinking about that made me snort with laughter but the sound died in my throat at the stern look that the Elf gave me over his shoulder. 'Authors who think that Legolas is going to fall at the feet of their made-up characters have no idea what an Elf truly is,' I thought. Having had some time to observe Legolas, I could see why the Valar loved his kind and cared for them. He was beautiful. It was not the kind of effeminate beauty that some artists and writers portrayed him as having, nor did Orlando Bloom's pretty-boy movie star looks even come close. Elvish beauty went far beyond the skin. One saw it in the leonine grace with which they moved, in the nobility and strength that radiated from them like light from lamps in the night. It was an inborn quality that made them mesmerising to behold, and downright scary when they were stern. If I'd known back at the river that Legolas was a genuine Elf, I would never have even attempted to touch him, let alone pull his ear.
Shivering slightly and trying my best not to trip over tree roots hidden in the long green grass, I wondered where Legolas was taking me. At least I knew I was safe. 'It could have been worse,' I consoled myself. 'You might have ended up in a troll cave, or in Far Harad or Rhun. Or Mordor." I gulped at that thought. 'Please please please let the War of the Ring have happened already.' I was confused and vexed as it was. I didn't need the threat of a giant flaming eyeball waiting to devour the world hanging over my head as well.
Still, in spite of it all, I couldn't deny that the Tolkien fan in me was wildly excited, even ecstatic. I was in Middle-earth! I had seen a real Elf! This was every fan's wet dream and I was living it. 'If only I'd bothered learning some Elvish!' So far, my elvish vocabulary existed of three words and I didn't think that saying "Adar", "Yrch" or even "Mellon" was going to help. Legolas was neither my father nor an Orc, and if I called him friend in his tongue, it might have made him even more suspicious than he already was. Until I could pick up some Westron or Elvish, my questions were going to have to wait. Still, nothing that Legolas could have told me would have answered the question that loomed foremost in my mind: Just how in the heck was this possible? Leaving the issue of the wishing well aside, what I was trying to reconcile in my mind was how what I had always believed to be a very well-detailed, made-up, fictional universe was actually every bit as real as my own world. How had Tolkien-
"Wait a minute...Tolkien," I whispered, stopping in my tracks as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. This world was fact, not fiction. And in order for Tolkien to have written about it in such great detail... "Tolkien was here!" I practically shouted. "Oh my God, Tolkien was here!"
In front of me, Legolas swiftly spun around. I thought he was going to scold me or something but instead he stared at me, an expression of surprise on his face. After a few seconds of hesitation, he opened his mouth and his next words almost floored me. "John Tolkien?"
"You knew Tolkien?" I gawked at the Elf. "I mean, of course you would have met him." How else could Tolkien have gotten hold of Frodo's Red Book? Or was it one of the copies that he had read? Didn't Gondor have one? Or was it the Shire? My mind was almost in overload, shooting off in all directions at once. Tolkien had been hobnobbing with the Fellowship! He might even have been here during the War of the Ring. Heck, he might even have seen the Ring. I wondered if like me, he had fallen down a well or gotten to Middle-earth by some other way.
For one moment, Legolas actually looked frustrated. I could empathise with that. If not for the language barrier between us I would have plied him with questions and he would have done the same with me. But as things were, we couldn't do anything except look at each other before giving up any notions of communication and continued walking to wherever he was leading me.
If I had known that Legolas was going to stick me in a tree, I would have tried to suggest that he bring me to Gondor or the city of Ithilien instead. Or even Thranduil's caves. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with trees whatsoever. They are soothing to the eye, provide shelter and help reduce carbon dioxide levels. It was climbing trees, particularly those of the tall variety that I had a problem with. Even if I did have a ladder to help me.
After waiting half an hour while I alternated between staring up the tree and eyeing the ladder with distrust, Legolas pushed me towards it, took my hands, placed them on the rung and pointed firmly upwards. "Okay, okay, don't get testy. It's not my fault that the only things I've ever climbed are stairs right?" I muttered. That and the fact that I was a teensy weensy bit scared of heights. Not that I would ever admit that. Still, I did as I was ordered. One did not say 'no' to an intimidating elvish stare. I'd thought that Hugo Weaving had the whole elvish stare thing down to pat but being the recipient of such a gaze from a real Elf was quite a uncomfortable experience. Resolutely, with my eyes fixed on the each rung that I ascended, I finally made my way up to the flet and clambering out onto it, found myself face to face with four Elves who were staring at me with obvious interest.
"Uh...Hi?" I didn't know what else to do. They were whispering to each other, but still looking at me. I felt a little bit like a zoo animal, but couldn't really complain since I knew my attire was nothing short of bizarre to them. Thankfully Legolas arrived just then and their attention shifted to him. While they conversed quietly, I waited, feeling awkward and trying my best not to shiver whenever the breeze blew across the flet. My ears perked up when I heard the word "Faramir" and then "Aragorn." So, there was a good chance that I was in Ithilien then. Why else would the Elves have mentioned Faramir? If I had been in Mirkwood, Legolas would have to take me to his Father. So if I were in Ithilien, then Legolas would have to take me to Faramir since he was the Prince of the land. Once again excitement turned my stomach into a coil of knots. So Sauron had already been defeated! And I might get to meet Faramir and Eowyn, or Aragorn and Arwen. It was just too bad that chances were that Frodo, Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond may have already sailed for the Undying Lands. I would really have liked to see them and their Rings.
When the Elves were done talking, Legolas walked over to me. "So, are we going now?" I pointed at the ladder and then downwards. He smiled briefly, before unclasping the soft grey cloak he wore and placing it over my shoulders. So he had seen me shivering. "Thank you," I said softly, pulling it tighter about me. Instantly delicious warmth seeped through my damp clothing and into my skin. "Well, we should go-" I'd started to walk towards the ladder but to my surprise, he put a hand on my arm and stopped me. "Huh?"
Legolas pointed to himself, and then the ladder, before pointing to me and motioning that I was to stay in place. "What? You are going off and you expect me to stay here? But...but..." I sputtered. I didn't want to be left here alone with strange Elves. It wasn't as though Legolas and I were bosom buddies but at least I knew this Elf, had read about what he had done, and he was definitely more familiar than the rest. Besides, I wanted to go see whoever he was meeting. Legolas motioned again that I was to stay and with that, went back to the opening in the flet and disappeared down it.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Legolas." Disappointed, I sat down, feeling tired for the first time since my arrival. The adrenaline rush was finally wearing off now and before I knew it, I let out a giant yawn. "Oops, sorry," I blushed and apologised to the Elves. Turning away from them, I lay down on my side and curled up into a foetal position, my head pillowed on my arm. Maybe I could snatch forty winks before he returned. He was coming back wasn't he? Why didn't he bring me along with him? And just where the heck had the doggone well disappeared to? I was still wondering about these when sleep finally overtook me.
Someone was shaking my shoulder and lost in half-dreams, I thought it was Carrie. Grumbling, I turned over on my side and shrugged off the hand. "G'way," I mumbled. The shaking continued until I finally snapped open my eyes and let out an unmistakably irate "Bloody hell!" before realising that it was Legolas who was bent over me, trying to wake me up. "Oh... sorry." As I got to my feet, I noticed that it was a lot darker now, almost night time in fact. I'd slept the whole afternoon and evening away. My mouth felt dry and licking my lips, I wished I had my grape-flavoured Mentos. Too bad that my sweets were in my shoulder bag which was currently back on Earth.
When we had descended the tree, I found two horses, one bridled and saddled, the other bereft of any riding gear, waiting for us at the bottom. They were beautiful, shining in the pale moonlight, one chestnut gold, the other white-grey. I knew that wherever next we were going, Legolas meant for me to ride the saddled chestnut horse but I had no riding experience to speak of. Technically, I knew what to do, and even how to give a horse directions. But that was all book knowledge. Noting my apprehensiveness, Legolas grasped the bridle and spoke softly to the chestnut, which flickered its ears and looked at the Elf with soft black eyes. Whatever he said to the horse, I was thankful for it. The chestnut remained still while I mounted and he needed no cue from me, but followed Legolas's mount. All I had to do was hang tight and make sure that I didn't fall off. Considering my death grip on the reins and the pommel of the saddle, that was unlikely to happen. It was with no small amount of envy and admiration that I watched the Elf as he rode, secure on the bare back of his horse, hands lightly grasping the white flowing mane.
With the cold night air streaming in my face and hair, I was glad of the cloak tucked around me. I wondered where we were going, but when we finally rode over a low hill and I saw the glittering river and the lights of the city below, I knew exactly where I was. We had reached Osgiliath, and far away, I caught a gleam of white in the dark. It was Minas Tirith, the main city of Gondor, and in all probability, my next destination.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes: Dear all, thanks for reading. As always, useful C&C is always appreciated. So sorry for the long delay. I had this partially written awhile back but only tonight all of it has fallen into place. Plus, my father has reared his ugly head in my life once again so naturally, I had other things to worry about. Thanks for all your patience!
(Review List)
Laurel Whitney: Thanks for pointing out all the technical aspects of my writing. I'm pretty sure this new chapter should be okay. As for the tapping, ff.net's responsible for that. ^_^ Hope Jan has more going for her now in terms of character as well. But you'll definitely get to know her more as the story proceeds.
Tymiki: Thanks for the compliments! As for Jan learning Westron... now that you know Tolkien has preceded her, expect her to be doing some serious studying. After all, that's the only way to learn a new language.
Cooncat: Well, it is fun writing this story!
Flamin' June: Wow, thanks for putting on your fav. list. Expect more humour when Jan starts living in Minas Tirith. I have some Jan-torture in mind. *wicked cackle* There is a wealth of humour to be tapped from modern girl falls into Middle-earth situations, wish more people would see that. And yep, more information on Jan will arrive as the chapters proceed.
Anne: Glad you think so! ^_^
Badalirn: Sorry to keep you waiting. I'll try to update as regularly as possible but that seems a little remote at the moment, considering what I've mentioned in my AN. Still, will try.
Evil Whimsey: I'll try my best. The last thing I want for Jan is to turn into an MS... Eru forbid! If I ever start veering towards that, check me. Please!