A/N: Thoughts are in { }. Elvish translations located at the end of the
chapter.
Chapter 2 When Wishes Come True
The policeman who unlocks the barred door has his back to Legolas, so he misses the quick blocking move the elf makes against the fingers reaching for his derrière. If looks could kill, the unseen prisoner would have just met his maker at the hands of a trained assassin. I take the chance when I see it.
"Legolas!"
His head whips forward at the sound of my voice, his sharp elven eyes locking on mine.
"al!" he yells.
Before the policeman realizes what has happened, the Prance is flashing past him through the now open door, running to me, long legs pumping and hair flying behind him. His forward motion stops as suddenly as it started when he reaches me. No skidding or sliding. Just a totally elven complete gliding stop.
We stand facing each other, eyes locked. He reaches out and puts his right hand on my left shoulder.
"Mae Govannen, al!" he says.
I reach for his shoulder, mirroring his own action. "Mae Govannen, Prance Legolas. Welcome back!"
We stand there, taking in the sight of each other, for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly I find myself locked in the strong arms of the archer's embrace.
"I meesed u al. I em glaed tu bea bak," he whispers in my ear.
"Oh, Legolas. . . ," I breathe, as the tears spring to my eyes once again.
Little Pip throws her arms around the two of us, bearhugging us for all she's worth. She takes a step back, and wagging her finger at him, says, "Man, Legolas, you are in SOOOOO much trouble!"
It's Yes Dear's turn. Stepping forward, he clasps Legolas' hand in his own. "Good to have you back, buddy," he says.
"Ur noet geddin oef dat ezy," says the Prance. Soon Yes Dear is also locked in the elvish equivalent of a bearhug.
"Can we go now?" asks Little Pip.
Glancing away from Legolas' noble face, I look at Officer Pennington, who is smiling happily at us. "You're free and clear," he announces. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greenleaf."
"It wuz a plaezshure tu meat u tu, Offussir Pennington," says the Prance, clasping and shaking the policeman's hand. "Mae we meat agin, buet en sum uthr plaece."
There is a brief exchange of laughter, and then we are on our way. Sounds of "Goodbye, Legolas!" echo forth down the hallway from the other officers as we pass. It appears the Prance used his time of incarceration to impress the entire local establishment with the skills of diplomacy taught well to him by his noble father.
The son of Thranduil makes his way to the car, climbing into the back seat and buckling up as if nothing has changed, nothing has happened. It is as if none of the events of the past week ever took place. If it weren't for the slight droop of his shoulders as he leans back in the seat, and the deeper than usual sigh he emits, you would never know he'd just come back from saving all of Middle-earth.
"Pip, you wanna ride up front?" I ask.
"Really? In the front seat?" she responds, incredulous. She is always relegated to the rear seat, so this day is about to turn out to be a real treat indeed. "Ok!" she exclaims, moving quickly to claim her prize before I can change my mind.
I settle myself into the back beside the Prance. Looking over at him, I start to ask 'Are you ok?' but suddenly the thought escapes me.
He's got his head back against the seat; his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted. I hadn't noticed it inside the jail, but as I observe him resting there another totally unexpected word springs to my mind.
Fragile.
I reach out to grasp his hand, and as he opens his eyes his soft smile returns. Just as quickly as it entered my mind, the thought of fragility flees. My strong elven archer has returned.
He scoots himself as close to me as his seat belt will allow, and bumps his forehead against my own. It's a cat-like move I'm guilty of all the time, particularly with the pets, but I can't say I've ever seen him do it before. I wasn't even aware he had picked it up until just now. Then he rests his head on my shoulder.
As Yes Dear drives us out of town, I glance down at Legolas who has not budged once since the car was started. I can faintly hear the little snuffling sound he often makes when sleeping. My suspicions of his being exhausted are confirmed. There's just one thing that worries me.
Legolas is sleeping with his eyes closed.
Fifteen minutes or so pass as we drive through the countryside toward home. My mind is running through all the many questions I have for him once he rests and is ready to fill in the blanks of the past week of my life. I am so preoccupied making my list inside my head that I do not notice that the snuffling sound has ceased until my mind registers that the softly whispered sound I heard was my name spoken aloud.
"al?" he whispers again, unmoving.
"What is it?" I whisper back, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind his pointed ear.
"I faeld dem."
{ WHAT??? } my brain says.
"Legolas. . ." I begin, before he cuts in again.
"I faeld dem, al. I leat dem doewn. At Helm's Deep. Araporn wuz kountin oen me tu keel dat Uruk, an I naeld heem twiece, buet he deed noet faell. He maed it tu da waell wid dat toarch, aen den dere wuz dis eggsploeshun, an. . .an . . . ."
"Shhh. Quiet now. You need to rest." I stroke the back of his neck and his shoulders as best I can reach. "We can talk about it all later. Right now you have been through so much, and I am just so glad that you are here. Just rest now, ok?"
He snuggles in tighter and is silent the rest of the ride home.
I add another word of description to my list.
Guiltridden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we arrive home, the turkey breast that was left baking in the oven is now done. While the Prance takes a short soak in the tub, I help in the kitchen as Yes Dear the Cook adds corn, peas, scalloped potatoes, green beans, stuffing, and salad to the menu. We top it all off with a chocolate cake hastily poured from the box and stuck into the still warm oven, frosted while still hot.
Legolas shovels in the food like he has been existing entirely on lembas for the past week. Except for his adventure behind the candy counter, of which I am still patiently awaiting an explanation, he probably hasn't had much to eat this week anyway. Usually the dinner table is a lively place, with the television running and everyone talking at the same time telling about their day or the latest joke they heard. Not tonight. The worrier Prance speaks only twice, once to ask for more potatoes and once to ask to be excused. I grant him both.
While Yes Dear and I wash up the rest of the dishes, Legolas returns to the kitchen. He hangs around the sink, looking for something to do. I know what it is that he is thinking of now. It is not hard to guess from the longing in his eyes as he watches Little Pip playing with her new Harry Potter toys and her new Nancy Drew game on the Gameboy.
Legolas thinks he has missed Christmas.
It's true that there are absolutely no stores open in a small town on Christmas Day where you can sneak off and purchase just the right gift for the elf who just HAPPENED to appear unexpectedly on your doorstep. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to return at all.
Fortunately, as a Girl Scout leader, I have been trained to expect the unexpected and to follow the motto, "Be Prepared." I hand the Prance my dishtowel, and nudging him toward my place beside Yes Dear at the drainboard, I tell him, "Be a dear and finish those up for me, ok?"
From Little Pip's pile of presents, I help her select and wrap something that she got that Legolas will love most. Looking over Yes Dear's pile, I easily find the perfect gift that keeps on giving for him to contribute. As for my own pile, well, I couldn't have done better had I gone out and made the purchase on the spot myself.
Little Pip hurriedly places the gifts underneath the Christmas tree. Grinning a secret smile at me, she grabs Legolas by the arm, saying, "Aren't you even gonna open your presents and see what we got you for Christmas?"
I pluck the dishtowel from his hand as he stands staring openmouthed at her. The first real smile of the day breaks across his countenance like the dawning of a new day after a terrible storm. In a flash, the Prance and Little Pip are racing for the front room and the tree, giggling all the way.
When Yes Dear and I get there, Legolas is standing in front of the tree, gaping at the tiny pile of three brightly wrapped gifts on the floor. Each is wrapped in the brightest, gaudiest scrap of paper we had left, and Little Pip has taped the biggest bows from the bow box to the top of each one.
"Ael of dese ar fur me?" he whispers breathlessly.
"Yep," answers Little Pip. "Hurry up, or it's gonna be next Christmas before you open them!"
He plops down quickly amongst the branches of the Christmas tree, picking up one of the presents.
"That's from Yes Dear," I tell him. My husband gives me a suspicious look. He doesn't remember shopping for the Prance.
Legolas rips the shiny gold paper from the package, tossing it aside in a flurry of action. He uncovers his sweetest desire: A 5 ounce, 3 inch square Chunky candy bar.
"Hannon le!" he exclaims.
"Open another one!" urges Little Pip, now totally into the present exchange thing all over again. "Here, this one's from me, open it next!" She hands him the foot square box covered in wrapping paper with little kittens playing with strands of lightbulbs.
He tears off the paper, only to find a smaller box wrapped with puppies wearing Santa hats inside. "Thaenk u, Leedle Peep," he says in a puzzled voice.
"No, dummy, you get to open it again!" she tells him. "It's a present inside a present!"
"Ooohhh. . . .I git id!" he exclaims, tearing off the puppy paper and opening the box, only to find yet another brightly wrapped gift inside. This goes on for 3 more boxes before he finally reaches the prize inside.
"Oehh, Leddle Peep, I aelwaez waentd won of dese!" he gasps, lifting the blue bottle of 'Morning Glory' body mist spray from Calgon from the box.
"Look in the bottom, there's more!" she says, pushing his hand out of the way and digging around until she comes up with the other half of the prize.
"whut IZ dat?" he queries, cocking his head.
"It's a 'Strawberry Mud Pack Facial Peel'!" she says. "You really need one of these things!"
He stares for a moment at the woman on the package, wondering I suppose if he has to wear cucumber slices on his own eyelids while using the pink colored mask like she is wearing.
"One more," I tell him, pointing to the package wrapped in blue with the reindeer and the elves loading Santa's sleigh on it. He pauses, a bit overwhelmed but much happier looking than he has been all day.
"Dis won's frum u, huh al?" he inquires. Without waiting for my answer, he pops off the bow and shreds the paper. He stops, staring at the package's contents with his mouth hanging open, a little round O formed by his lips.
"Oeh, al!" he breathes. "I deedn't thaenk I wuld eber git won of dese. . .!"
"It is yours to do with as you please," I say. "You can leave it in the box, or take it out and play with it, whatever you want. It's yours."
"Look, Dad, Legolas got a TTT doll so he can play with himself!" crows Little Pip.
"It'z noet a doell," growls the Prance, "it'z an akshun feeguer!"
"It's a doll," says Yes Dear.
"Noe id'z noet!" shouts the Prance.
"Don't tease him," I chide. "After all, it's Christmas, and we are supposed to have peace on Earth and goodwill to men on this day."
"An elves tu!" Legolas adds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soon all is well, and Legolas and Little Pip are inspecting each other's toys and playing with them together. Yes Dear and I sit in our chairs, watching TV and listening to them chatter in the front room.
"You know, we still don't know what happened," my other half begins. "We still don't know how he managed to pull off changing worlds again, and I still want to know how he managed to do $300.00 worth of damage to the candy counter."
"He'll tell, in time," I respond. "We just have to wait. He's never been one to keep a secret."
Bedtime approaches, and after I tuck Little Pip in, I hear Legolas call my name from his room. He's already under the covers, and the world's happiest cat is tucked between his knees.
"Luuk at da Preensis Eleezabef! She meesed me," he says.
"We all have missed you, nin mellon. Tomorrow I will show you what all the people who love you have written to say about your leaving. You have left many broken hearts in your wake."
He blushes, ducking his head. When he looks up, he asks me, "Deed Saenta com?"
"Yes, he did," I answer. "I thought you'd never ask. Stay right here, he left something here just for you . . . ." I move off the edge of the bed and leave the room, returning momentarily with his gift from jolly old Saint Nick hidden behind my back.
"Close your eyes," I tell him from the doorway. He does so immediately, like a well-trained soldier.
"Hold out your hands." Into his waiting palms I place the one thing he wants but would never ask anyone for. I have known about his desire for some time now, having watched his looks of envy and answered his subtle questions enough to know the answer to his need. Santa was a wise one indeed to include this in the sleigh.
"An elf haet! Oeh, boey, I nead won of dose!" He places the green felt fabric hat on his head, leaping from the bed and bounding to the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. He smiles at himself, then shakes his long blond locks, making the bell on the end of the pointed green hat jingle.
Watching him stand there, I am thankful for so many things, but most of all that he is back, safe and sound. He breaks my own reverie as he speaks again, still staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Whin I kliemd uep oen Saenta Klauez' laep, I wuz shuer dat my weesh culd noet com tru. I thot I wuz axin moer dan culd poessibly eber bea."
He pauses, drawing in a deep breath.
"What did you ask for?" I whisper, suspecting that I know already.
He turns to me. "I toeld heem ael I waent iz fur al tu git aen elf fur Chreestmiss. I jest waent u tu bea haeppie. I deed noet noe at da tiem dat da elf wuld bea me."
He smiles, continuing, "Dat Saenta muest hav red da buukz I em een. He tole me ael I neaded tu due wuz tu taelk tu Gandalf. Soe I deed. I dunno hoew he duz heez majik, buet it staerted az suun as da baettl of Helm's Deep wuz ovr. I faelt like I wuz raedeeatin sum kiend of gloew aftur we roed up da hiell luuking tuward Isengard. Da nekz thaeng I neuw, I wuz bak en da mooviee theeater."
He drops his eyes to the floor, embarrassed. "I em soerrie abot da kaendy. I wuz soe huengry an tierd. I deed noet noe hoew tu cuuk da poepkorn or da nochoez an cheaze, soe I haed tu jest eet kaendy. I hoep u ar noet maed at me." He looks up with the puppy dog eyes.
"I could never be mad at you," I tell him, pulling him into another bearhug and squeezing him until he squirms. Turning him loose, I point at the bed. "That is, unless you don't climb into that bed and get some sleep. Princess Elizabeth needs you to warm her up. Tomorrow we can talk about the rest."
Later, as I turn out the rest of the lights and secure the fort for the night, I peek into his room once more. He sleeps flat on his back with eyes open, a sight that used to freak me out but now is so welcome. The familiar little snuffling sound wafts through the room with each rise of his chest. I silently say the prayer in my heart:
Thank you, Lord for seeing to our needs, and for sometimes letting us not be too old for our wants to hurt us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elvish Translations:
Mae Govannen: Well met, a form of Elvish greeting
Hannon le: Thank you
Nin mellon: my friend
As you can see, Legolas is in need of one more day's rest before resuming much activity. I hope to let him read the wonderful things you have said to him and to me while he was gone in the morning. I promise to feed him well, and make him rest, so that he will be ready to answer all of you soon. Thank you so much for being there to support both of us!
Special Thank You's go to TreeHugger, "The Beta of Tears and Laughter", and to PuterPatty, "The Beta of Extra Commas and Spaces and Letters and Things." I love you guys. I really do.
Chapter 2 When Wishes Come True
The policeman who unlocks the barred door has his back to Legolas, so he misses the quick blocking move the elf makes against the fingers reaching for his derrière. If looks could kill, the unseen prisoner would have just met his maker at the hands of a trained assassin. I take the chance when I see it.
"Legolas!"
His head whips forward at the sound of my voice, his sharp elven eyes locking on mine.
"al!" he yells.
Before the policeman realizes what has happened, the Prance is flashing past him through the now open door, running to me, long legs pumping and hair flying behind him. His forward motion stops as suddenly as it started when he reaches me. No skidding or sliding. Just a totally elven complete gliding stop.
We stand facing each other, eyes locked. He reaches out and puts his right hand on my left shoulder.
"Mae Govannen, al!" he says.
I reach for his shoulder, mirroring his own action. "Mae Govannen, Prance Legolas. Welcome back!"
We stand there, taking in the sight of each other, for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly I find myself locked in the strong arms of the archer's embrace.
"I meesed u al. I em glaed tu bea bak," he whispers in my ear.
"Oh, Legolas. . . ," I breathe, as the tears spring to my eyes once again.
Little Pip throws her arms around the two of us, bearhugging us for all she's worth. She takes a step back, and wagging her finger at him, says, "Man, Legolas, you are in SOOOOO much trouble!"
It's Yes Dear's turn. Stepping forward, he clasps Legolas' hand in his own. "Good to have you back, buddy," he says.
"Ur noet geddin oef dat ezy," says the Prance. Soon Yes Dear is also locked in the elvish equivalent of a bearhug.
"Can we go now?" asks Little Pip.
Glancing away from Legolas' noble face, I look at Officer Pennington, who is smiling happily at us. "You're free and clear," he announces. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greenleaf."
"It wuz a plaezshure tu meat u tu, Offussir Pennington," says the Prance, clasping and shaking the policeman's hand. "Mae we meat agin, buet en sum uthr plaece."
There is a brief exchange of laughter, and then we are on our way. Sounds of "Goodbye, Legolas!" echo forth down the hallway from the other officers as we pass. It appears the Prance used his time of incarceration to impress the entire local establishment with the skills of diplomacy taught well to him by his noble father.
The son of Thranduil makes his way to the car, climbing into the back seat and buckling up as if nothing has changed, nothing has happened. It is as if none of the events of the past week ever took place. If it weren't for the slight droop of his shoulders as he leans back in the seat, and the deeper than usual sigh he emits, you would never know he'd just come back from saving all of Middle-earth.
"Pip, you wanna ride up front?" I ask.
"Really? In the front seat?" she responds, incredulous. She is always relegated to the rear seat, so this day is about to turn out to be a real treat indeed. "Ok!" she exclaims, moving quickly to claim her prize before I can change my mind.
I settle myself into the back beside the Prance. Looking over at him, I start to ask 'Are you ok?' but suddenly the thought escapes me.
He's got his head back against the seat; his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted. I hadn't noticed it inside the jail, but as I observe him resting there another totally unexpected word springs to my mind.
Fragile.
I reach out to grasp his hand, and as he opens his eyes his soft smile returns. Just as quickly as it entered my mind, the thought of fragility flees. My strong elven archer has returned.
He scoots himself as close to me as his seat belt will allow, and bumps his forehead against my own. It's a cat-like move I'm guilty of all the time, particularly with the pets, but I can't say I've ever seen him do it before. I wasn't even aware he had picked it up until just now. Then he rests his head on my shoulder.
As Yes Dear drives us out of town, I glance down at Legolas who has not budged once since the car was started. I can faintly hear the little snuffling sound he often makes when sleeping. My suspicions of his being exhausted are confirmed. There's just one thing that worries me.
Legolas is sleeping with his eyes closed.
Fifteen minutes or so pass as we drive through the countryside toward home. My mind is running through all the many questions I have for him once he rests and is ready to fill in the blanks of the past week of my life. I am so preoccupied making my list inside my head that I do not notice that the snuffling sound has ceased until my mind registers that the softly whispered sound I heard was my name spoken aloud.
"al?" he whispers again, unmoving.
"What is it?" I whisper back, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind his pointed ear.
"I faeld dem."
{ WHAT??? } my brain says.
"Legolas. . ." I begin, before he cuts in again.
"I faeld dem, al. I leat dem doewn. At Helm's Deep. Araporn wuz kountin oen me tu keel dat Uruk, an I naeld heem twiece, buet he deed noet faell. He maed it tu da waell wid dat toarch, aen den dere wuz dis eggsploeshun, an. . .an . . . ."
"Shhh. Quiet now. You need to rest." I stroke the back of his neck and his shoulders as best I can reach. "We can talk about it all later. Right now you have been through so much, and I am just so glad that you are here. Just rest now, ok?"
He snuggles in tighter and is silent the rest of the ride home.
I add another word of description to my list.
Guiltridden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we arrive home, the turkey breast that was left baking in the oven is now done. While the Prance takes a short soak in the tub, I help in the kitchen as Yes Dear the Cook adds corn, peas, scalloped potatoes, green beans, stuffing, and salad to the menu. We top it all off with a chocolate cake hastily poured from the box and stuck into the still warm oven, frosted while still hot.
Legolas shovels in the food like he has been existing entirely on lembas for the past week. Except for his adventure behind the candy counter, of which I am still patiently awaiting an explanation, he probably hasn't had much to eat this week anyway. Usually the dinner table is a lively place, with the television running and everyone talking at the same time telling about their day or the latest joke they heard. Not tonight. The worrier Prance speaks only twice, once to ask for more potatoes and once to ask to be excused. I grant him both.
While Yes Dear and I wash up the rest of the dishes, Legolas returns to the kitchen. He hangs around the sink, looking for something to do. I know what it is that he is thinking of now. It is not hard to guess from the longing in his eyes as he watches Little Pip playing with her new Harry Potter toys and her new Nancy Drew game on the Gameboy.
Legolas thinks he has missed Christmas.
It's true that there are absolutely no stores open in a small town on Christmas Day where you can sneak off and purchase just the right gift for the elf who just HAPPENED to appear unexpectedly on your doorstep. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to return at all.
Fortunately, as a Girl Scout leader, I have been trained to expect the unexpected and to follow the motto, "Be Prepared." I hand the Prance my dishtowel, and nudging him toward my place beside Yes Dear at the drainboard, I tell him, "Be a dear and finish those up for me, ok?"
From Little Pip's pile of presents, I help her select and wrap something that she got that Legolas will love most. Looking over Yes Dear's pile, I easily find the perfect gift that keeps on giving for him to contribute. As for my own pile, well, I couldn't have done better had I gone out and made the purchase on the spot myself.
Little Pip hurriedly places the gifts underneath the Christmas tree. Grinning a secret smile at me, she grabs Legolas by the arm, saying, "Aren't you even gonna open your presents and see what we got you for Christmas?"
I pluck the dishtowel from his hand as he stands staring openmouthed at her. The first real smile of the day breaks across his countenance like the dawning of a new day after a terrible storm. In a flash, the Prance and Little Pip are racing for the front room and the tree, giggling all the way.
When Yes Dear and I get there, Legolas is standing in front of the tree, gaping at the tiny pile of three brightly wrapped gifts on the floor. Each is wrapped in the brightest, gaudiest scrap of paper we had left, and Little Pip has taped the biggest bows from the bow box to the top of each one.
"Ael of dese ar fur me?" he whispers breathlessly.
"Yep," answers Little Pip. "Hurry up, or it's gonna be next Christmas before you open them!"
He plops down quickly amongst the branches of the Christmas tree, picking up one of the presents.
"That's from Yes Dear," I tell him. My husband gives me a suspicious look. He doesn't remember shopping for the Prance.
Legolas rips the shiny gold paper from the package, tossing it aside in a flurry of action. He uncovers his sweetest desire: A 5 ounce, 3 inch square Chunky candy bar.
"Hannon le!" he exclaims.
"Open another one!" urges Little Pip, now totally into the present exchange thing all over again. "Here, this one's from me, open it next!" She hands him the foot square box covered in wrapping paper with little kittens playing with strands of lightbulbs.
He tears off the paper, only to find a smaller box wrapped with puppies wearing Santa hats inside. "Thaenk u, Leedle Peep," he says in a puzzled voice.
"No, dummy, you get to open it again!" she tells him. "It's a present inside a present!"
"Ooohhh. . . .I git id!" he exclaims, tearing off the puppy paper and opening the box, only to find yet another brightly wrapped gift inside. This goes on for 3 more boxes before he finally reaches the prize inside.
"Oehh, Leddle Peep, I aelwaez waentd won of dese!" he gasps, lifting the blue bottle of 'Morning Glory' body mist spray from Calgon from the box.
"Look in the bottom, there's more!" she says, pushing his hand out of the way and digging around until she comes up with the other half of the prize.
"whut IZ dat?" he queries, cocking his head.
"It's a 'Strawberry Mud Pack Facial Peel'!" she says. "You really need one of these things!"
He stares for a moment at the woman on the package, wondering I suppose if he has to wear cucumber slices on his own eyelids while using the pink colored mask like she is wearing.
"One more," I tell him, pointing to the package wrapped in blue with the reindeer and the elves loading Santa's sleigh on it. He pauses, a bit overwhelmed but much happier looking than he has been all day.
"Dis won's frum u, huh al?" he inquires. Without waiting for my answer, he pops off the bow and shreds the paper. He stops, staring at the package's contents with his mouth hanging open, a little round O formed by his lips.
"Oeh, al!" he breathes. "I deedn't thaenk I wuld eber git won of dese. . .!"
"It is yours to do with as you please," I say. "You can leave it in the box, or take it out and play with it, whatever you want. It's yours."
"Look, Dad, Legolas got a TTT doll so he can play with himself!" crows Little Pip.
"It'z noet a doell," growls the Prance, "it'z an akshun feeguer!"
"It's a doll," says Yes Dear.
"Noe id'z noet!" shouts the Prance.
"Don't tease him," I chide. "After all, it's Christmas, and we are supposed to have peace on Earth and goodwill to men on this day."
"An elves tu!" Legolas adds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soon all is well, and Legolas and Little Pip are inspecting each other's toys and playing with them together. Yes Dear and I sit in our chairs, watching TV and listening to them chatter in the front room.
"You know, we still don't know what happened," my other half begins. "We still don't know how he managed to pull off changing worlds again, and I still want to know how he managed to do $300.00 worth of damage to the candy counter."
"He'll tell, in time," I respond. "We just have to wait. He's never been one to keep a secret."
Bedtime approaches, and after I tuck Little Pip in, I hear Legolas call my name from his room. He's already under the covers, and the world's happiest cat is tucked between his knees.
"Luuk at da Preensis Eleezabef! She meesed me," he says.
"We all have missed you, nin mellon. Tomorrow I will show you what all the people who love you have written to say about your leaving. You have left many broken hearts in your wake."
He blushes, ducking his head. When he looks up, he asks me, "Deed Saenta com?"
"Yes, he did," I answer. "I thought you'd never ask. Stay right here, he left something here just for you . . . ." I move off the edge of the bed and leave the room, returning momentarily with his gift from jolly old Saint Nick hidden behind my back.
"Close your eyes," I tell him from the doorway. He does so immediately, like a well-trained soldier.
"Hold out your hands." Into his waiting palms I place the one thing he wants but would never ask anyone for. I have known about his desire for some time now, having watched his looks of envy and answered his subtle questions enough to know the answer to his need. Santa was a wise one indeed to include this in the sleigh.
"An elf haet! Oeh, boey, I nead won of dose!" He places the green felt fabric hat on his head, leaping from the bed and bounding to the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. He smiles at himself, then shakes his long blond locks, making the bell on the end of the pointed green hat jingle.
Watching him stand there, I am thankful for so many things, but most of all that he is back, safe and sound. He breaks my own reverie as he speaks again, still staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Whin I kliemd uep oen Saenta Klauez' laep, I wuz shuer dat my weesh culd noet com tru. I thot I wuz axin moer dan culd poessibly eber bea."
He pauses, drawing in a deep breath.
"What did you ask for?" I whisper, suspecting that I know already.
He turns to me. "I toeld heem ael I waent iz fur al tu git aen elf fur Chreestmiss. I jest waent u tu bea haeppie. I deed noet noe at da tiem dat da elf wuld bea me."
He smiles, continuing, "Dat Saenta muest hav red da buukz I em een. He tole me ael I neaded tu due wuz tu taelk tu Gandalf. Soe I deed. I dunno hoew he duz heez majik, buet it staerted az suun as da baettl of Helm's Deep wuz ovr. I faelt like I wuz raedeeatin sum kiend of gloew aftur we roed up da hiell luuking tuward Isengard. Da nekz thaeng I neuw, I wuz bak en da mooviee theeater."
He drops his eyes to the floor, embarrassed. "I em soerrie abot da kaendy. I wuz soe huengry an tierd. I deed noet noe hoew tu cuuk da poepkorn or da nochoez an cheaze, soe I haed tu jest eet kaendy. I hoep u ar noet maed at me." He looks up with the puppy dog eyes.
"I could never be mad at you," I tell him, pulling him into another bearhug and squeezing him until he squirms. Turning him loose, I point at the bed. "That is, unless you don't climb into that bed and get some sleep. Princess Elizabeth needs you to warm her up. Tomorrow we can talk about the rest."
Later, as I turn out the rest of the lights and secure the fort for the night, I peek into his room once more. He sleeps flat on his back with eyes open, a sight that used to freak me out but now is so welcome. The familiar little snuffling sound wafts through the room with each rise of his chest. I silently say the prayer in my heart:
Thank you, Lord for seeing to our needs, and for sometimes letting us not be too old for our wants to hurt us.
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Elvish Translations:
Mae Govannen: Well met, a form of Elvish greeting
Hannon le: Thank you
Nin mellon: my friend
As you can see, Legolas is in need of one more day's rest before resuming much activity. I hope to let him read the wonderful things you have said to him and to me while he was gone in the morning. I promise to feed him well, and make him rest, so that he will be ready to answer all of you soon. Thank you so much for being there to support both of us!
Special Thank You's go to TreeHugger, "The Beta of Tears and Laughter", and to PuterPatty, "The Beta of Extra Commas and Spaces and Letters and Things." I love you guys. I really do.