A/N and Disclaimer: Okay.I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the
characters from it. I do not own any jazz music because I don't write it.
I do not own the song by Frank Sinatra or In the Mood. They belong to the
people who wrote them. I do not own Tylenol. I do not own the Internet,
or MSN (Messenger). I do not own the Elvish I use. It belongs to the Grey
Company, where I found the Elvish I use. The Elvish is Quenya, I think,
not Sindarin. So, Tolkien purists, don't get your panty-
hose/trousers/boxers/whatever in a bunch that I'm using the High Elven
language. Just get over it. I do, however, own Lissa and Delemir. Emily,
I do not own, because that, in fact, is one of my friends. I own Lissa
because she's me. ;) Anyway. Anything else that is brand named that I
forgot about, I do not own and will never own because I am just writing for
fun.
Chapter 1
Lissa sighed dramatically as she turned the knob on her dryer, switching it on for seventy minutes. Turning swiftly, her long reddish-brown hair whipping around her, she rounded the countertop in the center of her kitchen. She placed the backs on earrings she had previously discarded that afternoon in a frantic wave to become herself again, humming along to the jazz pouring out of her radio. She placed the earrings, two stars, each different colors, on her notebook and carried them with her into her dining room. She placed them on the big freezer by the door and looked around.
She had never really wanted a big house, yet had felt compelled to buy this certain place for a certain reason. What the reason was, she had no idea presently. But, hopefully soon, she'd figure it out. The ceiling was high in the spacious dining room, a candelabra hanging from the center of the ceiling. The gleaming hardwood floors shone with reflections from the lights above it, glaring magnificently. Or terribly, Lissa mused.
Turning on her heel back into the kitchen, she took a gulp of the nearly forgotten milk she had poured for some cookies, she switched her radio off and set the cup in the sink to be dealt with later. She walked out of the kitchen and picked up her notebook and the accursed earrings then started towards her room to the far left of the dining room. Turning sharply and dangerously, a smirk on her tanned face, she walked to her dresser and set the items in her hand there with a clump.
Unbuttoning her baby blue blouse, she kicked a button on her CD player and a Frank Sinatra song came out. She hummed along with it, pulling a soft, white, linen nightdress from her closet and slipping it on. She pulled her cut-offs down her thighs and kicked them away into a pile of dirty laundry. Comfortable, Lissa yawned hugely and stretched. She switched off her light, turned the volume down on her radio and moved to her bathroom to brush her teeth.
As she was doing so, she looked in the mirror and saw the curtains in front of the window billow out and a soft rain pattering outside on her deck. She sighed, finishing the task of brushing her teeth, and turned around to shut the window. As she was shutting it, she saw a man out in the alleyway behind her house. His clothes were ratty looking and his hair was oily. He had liver spots on his face, which stood out a light brownish color against his silvery-white skin and hair. Lissa fought the urge to jolt as she found herself under his piercing green gaze. She calmly shut the window and turned, shuddering. Rubbing her temples in distress and exhaustion, she locked her window and shut the bathroom light off. She pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail and fell onto her bed, instantly leaping into the world of sleep as a man dying in a desert would a pool of icy cold water.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blood. Everywhere, there was thick, crimson blood. The faces of fallen Elves stared back at Delemir cold and lifelessly. Their faces were frozen in the fear they had felt before they had been murdered, put to a premature death. Their eyes stared at him, emotionless and frigid. Delemir shuddered unconsciously as he walked aimlessly passed them.
He didn't know where he was going, or why he was still walking. He hurt so badly that he wondered why he was still standing and hadn't fallen into a world of no pain already. Why hadn't he died with the other Elves? Why wasn't he in the Halls of Mandos with them right now? He had too many questions and so little answers. And much less than he could comprehend.
The single most thought that what in his head right now was that he hurt, both emotionally and physically.
Then he saw it. Up on a hill was a dark figure, slaying Elves by the flick of his wrist. Slaying his kin and friends, those that he had felt special bonds with. For one solid minute, Delemir was still as a stone. His knees buckled, but he stood up straight; his vision clouded, but he still stared in front of him; his heart seemed to have stopped beating, but was replaced in his head. Blood pounded in his ears so that was the only thing he heard; only thing he wanted to hear.
Finally able to move again, see again, Delemir charged forward and up the hill. Something told him to stop, to just stop and go away. He fought against that part, though nothing else was saying to go forward but that one little spot on his brain that sought vengeance on this Black Slayer.
When the cloaked figure turned and saw Delemir, heard his battle cry, the figure merely laughed. The sound was cold and humorless. It only held sly amusement and the glee evil feels when completing a dirty deed.
Sword raised high above his head, Delemir charged the figure. The evil creature raised his arm in front of him, chanted words that Delemir couldn't understand. Then, this awful feeling surged through Delemir. First, hot, searing pain spread through him, only to be replaced by cold plunging deep into his body, into his bones. A feeling of something being ripped out of him went through Delemir, causing him to cry out in the sudden pain. It felt like his very soul was being ripped from him.
And it was, but instead of going to the dark, cloaked figure, it went to another world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sighing and jabbing the wake button on her alarm clock viciously, Lissa grumbled inaudibly and pulled the comforter over her head again. Rolling over, she squinted in the morning sun as it found an opening between the blankets and her face. Grumbling still, she kicked the tangle of covers off of her and made her way to her bathroom to shower.
She'd had a very odd dream. She'd dreamt that there was this tall, blonde, drop-dead gorgeous man in her house with smoldering blue eyes and skin pale as ice, almost. Kicking on her radio to hear Glenn Miller's "In The Mood" blaring through it, she shut the door in her bathroom and turned on the taps over the tub. She glanced out the window, happy to see that freakish old man gone, and began to undress.
After undressing, she switched the shower tap on and stepped into the hot spray. Going through the usual routine of shampooing her hair, then conditioning it, then the body wash bit, she hummed along with the radio outside the door.
Upon hearing a clatter as she was wrapping her long hair in a towel, she belted and tied her white robe and walked out into her bedroom. She poked her head out into the dining room and had a clear view all the way to the front door of her house. Nothing was out of order or place, she decided, and went back into her room. She changed into gray sweat pants and a red thermal shirt to guard her against the upcoming winter in Crystal City, Virginia.
Stepping out into the dining room and into the kitchen, she grabbed an apple and a small juice box-she lived off of those-and made her way to her living room, AKA writing studio. She surveyed everything to make sure it was all okay.
Her antique clock her father had given her was still on the mantel, the radio, of which she seemed to live off of also, was still in the corner, the old record player, dusty and neglected, was still in one piece by the opening to the dining room. Blast, she thought upon seeing the old chunk of wood and mechanical pieces still there. She rolled her eyes and looked over at the couch.
Her candles were still there, the throws over the side of the arms of the couch were there, the tall handsome man from her dream was there on her couch, too, sleeping, and the big dictionary she kept on the side tables were in place. Everything was-Wait.
The tall, handsome man from her dream on her couch, sleeping? That wasn't right.how did he-?
"Oh, no," she murmured, scrubbing her hand over her face. "I haven't fully woken up yet, that's what it is. I'm still sleeping and having a really screwed up dream, or one of my friends are suffering a really bad hangover right now and will be suffering worse when I get my hands on them." She pinched her arm and winced. Looking up, she felt like screaming, but didn't want to wake up the sleeping figure on her couch.
"I'll just." She trailed off when the figure in question moaned slightly as one does after waking from sleep. "Just hope this is a bad dream and that I'll wake up later," she finished when she finally noticed the being slept with his eyes open.
When she saw his vision clear slightly, he looked around until his gaze settled on her. Lissa held perfectly still and dared not to blink, even. With an apple in one hand, a juice box in another, she looked quite like a painted statue.
"Ya naa lle (Who are you)?" the man demanded.
Lissa continued to stare at him, clueless as to what he had just said in some language she hadn't the faintest idea existed. Swallowing hard and wishing to be waking up again with a fresh start and no man, gorgeous as he was, on her couch.
"Ya naa lle?" he repeated.
Letting out the breath she hadn't, quite frankly, known she'd been holding, she said, "If you spoke English, I might be able to answer your question," emphasizing on the word 'English.'
The man looked at her a moment, strangely, then nodded. "Who are you?" he asked in English, finally.
"Well, it seems I'm not going to answer your question yet," Lissa said, backing up slowly, "because this is my house and I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in it."
The man sighed and nodded again. "I am Delemir of Lothlórien, a Marchwarden under the Lady Galadriel's order," he said, standing suddenly and bowing. "I do not quite know as to why I am in your house, my lady."
For some strange reason, those names and places were familiar to Lissa. She couldn't exactly say why, but they were. She searched her mind for some reason as to why she thought she should remember what they meant. She felt like someone had told her a joke and she was missing the punchline while everyone else was laughing.
Taking her glasses off and sticking them through her hair on top of her head, she said, "Well, Delemir.I haven't the faintest idea as to why you're here either, but I'd really appreciate it if you weren't here at all," slowly as she reached around on the table behind her for something she could use as a weapon. Her hands felt something long and hard, so she grabbed it desperately and held it tight behind her back.
Oh, he didn't want to admit he had no other place to go and that he didn't know what was going on. He hated the feeling of helplessness, which was exactly what he was feeling right then. So, mongering up all the pride he had and swallowing every bit of it, he said:
"I have no other place to say, lady. I do know why I am here or how I came to be here, but I would be in your debt greatly if you allowed me to stay here until I found the answers."
She'd always been too soft for her own good. Lissa had hardly been able to block her ex-boyfriend on the Internet, but had finally when she came to her senses. Of course, that was ages ago, it seemed. At least ten years ago. She felt old now. But, bringing herself back to the point, she tried to decide what she would do.
"Let me think here, first, okay buddy?" she asked, dropping whatever item she had onto the floor with a loud clatter to see it was a thick drawing pencil her friend had left here the other day. She flopped down onto the floor and held her head in her hands, trying to think the pros and cons over of this.
Well, she hadn't the faintest idea about anything about this man and he was asking her if he could stay with her until he figured out what the heck he was doing in her living room. Couldn't he think it out on the streets somewhere? Couldn't he just leave her alone so she could pretend it never happened? She had no idea if this guy was on America's Most Wanted or had escaped from a mental health facility a few miles off and broken into her house to crash. She hadn't the faintest idea if this was a prank from one of her friends, or if she was still dreaming in a dream that wouldn't end.
"Fine," she said at length. "I don't know why I'm doing this, or why I haven't called the cops yet-"
"Cops? What are cops?" he asked, starting out in his native tongue, but stopping when he remembered there was no word for 'cops' in his language, and that this girl couldn't understand him.
"Cops, you know, police men? Law enforcement? People who arrest the bad guys when they get caught?" Lissa encouraged, standing up finally, deciding if he tried anything weird, she'd just stab him with a pencil and kill him with lead poisoning.
When he shook his head, Lissa sighed and continued ranting. "Anyway, I don't know why I don't call Officer Brennon down here and say 'Here, this looney toon escaped from a cartoon bin and showed up in my living room.' That'd be the most logical thing to do, seeing as I haven't the faintest idea who you are, or why you're in my living room."
"Are you finished?" Delemir asked dryly.
"What?" Lissa looked up at him, irritated to find him looking bored. "Oh, yeah. More than."
"Good. I would like some breakfast," he said.
"Excuse me?" Lissa said, standing up straighter. "You're demanding breakfast of me? In my own house? I don't think so. If you want something, you get it yourself. Now let me lay some ground rules here, okay buddy?"
He nodded, watching the apple in her hand.
"One, you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours while you try to figure out why the heck you're here. Two, hands off. No touching, and that goes for both of us," she murmured to herself. "You invade my personal space, I have a right to knee you where it counts for men, okay?" He nodded absently again. "Three."
And her words became nothing but noises after that. He remembered something. He remembered the searing pain from something, and then the bitter bite of cold as it had run through his body. He remembered the pain of metal entering his flesh and leaving. The cold gleam in the eyes of the man that held the blade. He remembered drifting into sleep with strange dreams and waking up here, seeing a skinny woman with an apple in one hand, and a strange little box in the other. She'd been standing ramrod straight, so her long, wet, curly hair fell over her shoulders without being moved.
"Hello? Are you listening to me?" the girl's voice broke through his thoughts. "You're kind of in my way to work, so if you wouldn't mind moving please?"
Delemir snapped back to reality and nodded obligingly, moving from her way. He watched her disappear behind a clutter of paper and a strange gray machine. It was small as she picked it up. He watched her lay down on the couch and set the thing on her lap. It made a strange whirring noise and beeped when she lifted a top part of it. Wondering what it was, he reached a finger out to it. Lissa slapped his hand away automatically.
"Hands off applied to, not only me, but my stuff as well," Lissa said.
"What is your name?" Delemir asked, ignoring her comment.
"Melissa, but call me Lissa," she said shortly, moving a little green eraser like thing in the middle of the keyboard on her laptop. She opened up her word processor and began vigorously typing in one of her short stories.
"Well, Lady Lissa-"
"What a minute!" she interrupted. "It's either plain Lissa or you don't talk to me at all."
"Very well." He paused, then spoke again. "Lady, I would be much more conversational if I had something to eat, but as I do not know where any of your food is, I would be much obliged if you would show me."
Lissa looked up at Delemir and sighed. "You have to be the most annoying dream I have ever had before," she said, shaking her head. "Ever." She shook her head and tossed her apple to the blonde man.
"I beg to differ, lady, but I am most certainly not a dream." Delemir caught the apple, watching her intently. "I am as real as you are, if you are not a dream as well."
"Wait, here," Lissa said, pushing her laptop off of her legs onto the coffee table. "I am not a dream either, so." She stood slowly and took wary steps towards him. When she was in front of him she lifted her hand in the air and touched his face.
"Oh my, you're real!" She jumped back and shrieked slightly.
"Of course I am." Delemir lifted his own hand and tangled it in her hair gently. "And so are you."
"Then you're not a-a dream?" Lissa's eyes fluttered into the back of her head and shut. She collapsed forward into Delemir's arms. Delemir instinctively caught her and sighed. Pushing her up right again, he lay her down on the couch and watched her.
She had long hair that reached the crook of her elbows when she was standing, but now it was over her face, mussed and wet. Her slightly tan complexion was dimmed in the poor light of the room. Her small build looked as though he could fit his hands around her waist easily, and still overlap. Long, endless legs stretched to the end of the couch, and her arms were folded on her stomach.
Leaning back, Delemir thought of why he was here. Why had he been put here? How had he gotten here? It seemed impractical that he was still dreaming, he thought. It wasn't just impractical, it was impossible. He would have woken up a long time ago, he mused.
Delemir was pulled from his thoughts when a shrill ringing noise sounded, causing him to jolt. He looked at Lissa, whose eyes were now open, wide. She reached behind her and grabbed a small, white object. She pressed a button on it and spoke into it.
"Hello?" she said. She made other slight noises and laughed warily. She stood, casting a weird glance at Delemir, and disappeared into a backroom.
"I know, Emily, it's strange. He just all of a sudden was in my living room. And the freakish thing is that I had a dream with this guy in it." She paused. "What? Yes, yes, I heard you, and no, I'm not going to answer your question." She paused again. "Well, if you want to see him so bad, you come over and see him. Besides, I don't exactly want to zone out with this guy here." She, yet again, paused for about two seconds. "Okay, bye." There was a quiet beeping noise and Lissa emerged back into the living room.
"What is that thing?" Delemir asked, glancing at the object.
"Oh, this?" Lissa held it up. "It's a phone. You can talk to people through it. Don't you know what a telephone is, buddy?"
Delemir shook his head. "No, I have never seen one of those objects in my life, which has been a very long time," he said, standing from the chair he sat in.
Lissa looked him over. "Mmm, you don't look that old. I'd say you're about twenty-five," she said, sitting back down on her couch and picking up the strange box with pictures on it.
"More along the lines of twenty-five hundred," Delemir muttered.
"What? First you say that I'm a dream when I'm very much real, then you don't know what a phone is, and then you say you're older than two millenniums. You have to be on something strong, then," Lissa said, grinning. "It's the year 2003, almost 2004. There was about...Hmm, maybe about 2000 years before we started counting up, but I'm not too sure. Oh, there's Emily."
Lissa stood at the bell-like sound and walked into another room that he thought of to be the entrance hall. She unlocked about three locks then opened the door. A brown haired woman, a little shorter than Lissa, walked in. Delemir guessed this was the 'Emily' Lissa had spoken to over that nuisance of a telephone. The two stood talking over this and that, occasionally pointing in Delemir's direction.
"Liar," Emily said.
"Absolutely not." Lissa held her hands up, palms out.
"So he just popped up in your living room?"
"Yep. Strangest morning and dream I've ever had."
"Hey! Are you calling me a dream?"
"No. I think I woke up when you called and he was still there. I just took in that I wasn't really dreaming when I woke up earlier because I didn't fall asleep on my couch last night," Lissa said, linking arms with Emily and walking into the living room.
"Delemir, Emily. Emily, Delemir," Lissa said, gesturing between them both.
"Uh, Mel, come here for a moment." Emily pulled Melissa out into a different room and Delemir could hear their hushed voices and hissing whispers. He grinned, wryly amused.
"What?" he heard Lissa say.
"Do you remember when we were both teenagers? You were about thirteen, I was seventeen?"
"Hardly. What about it?" Lissa asked dryly.
"Well, we had pretense Elves that we would role play with on the Internet. Remember that?"
"Vaguely, though I'm making an effort. What's your point?"
"Dude, you had an Elf named Delemir who, I distinctly remember because you had a picture of both of your Elves on MSN for a long time, looked like that." Delemir saw who he guessed was Emily's hand pointing in his direction.
There was silence for about twenty seconds before someone let out a little squeak of laughter that formed into long, bubbly laughter. "Okay, I am dreaming!" he heard Lissa gasp, between breaths of air.
Emily sighed loudly and a quiet slapping noise was heard. She and Lissa walked back into the room, Lissa holding the back of her head.
"Fine. But when I go to sleep tonight, then wake up in the morning and Delemir isn't here, then I'm going to call you up and say I had the most real dream I've ever had in my life," Lissa said, sitting on a chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that was that. It was about ten hours later when Lissa was closing the door in her foyer. Emily was on her way home, Delemir was sitting in the living room, looking amused, and Lissa had a splitting headache. She fell down onto her couch and pulled a light pillow over her face.
"Lady, you have very amusing friends," Delemir said.
"Shut up and get me a Tylenol," Lissa replied.
"I would if I knew what a Tylenol was and where they were located. Are you all right, my lady?"
"Great, never better."
"You just have not eaten much today. I believe I only saw you eat about half of the plate you fixed for your dinner when Emily was here." Delemir stood. "Are you well?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Delemir. I just don't eat much, that's all." Lissa sat up and grabbed her head. "Delemir, I think I've finally accepted you're not a dream. If this is a dream it's the most real dream I've ever had."
"Why do you say that?"
"I've never had a headache in a dream. Much less eaten spaghetti in a dream as well," she added. She smirked and walked over to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a scotch and water. She downed it quickly and coughed slightly at the burning sensation down her throat. "Or felt the good feeling of a drink going down my esophagus."
Delemir watched her intently and sighed. "I have decided you are not a dream as well. I am trying to think of why I am here, as well, though I have accepted the fact I am here for a reason that is relevant."
"Good. Now." Lissa suddenly reached up to her head and swayed slightly.
"Are you all right?" Delemir asked, walking over to her, placing his hand on her elbow and back. "Lady?"
Lissa waited another beat before saying, "I'm fine." She stood up straighter and shrugged Delemir's grasp off of her. "Really. I just need to go to my room." She sighed, turned, then turned back around. "Let me take you to the guestroom, okay?"
"All right," Delemir answered, watching her turn and walk past him into the foyer. She walked up some stairs and, following slowly, Delemir followed her with his eyes as well as she turned to her right and then to her left into a room.
"Are you coming?" she called from inside it as Delemir was up onto the hallway she had turned off of into the guest bedroom. She poked her head out and looked around, stopping when she looked at him. "Oh, good. Come on." She gestured him into the room and then around the room itself.
"This is a large room," Delemir said quietly.
"Meh, my room is bigger, thank God. But if you need anything, the bathroom is just down the hall-all the way-and to your.left. Then, I'm downstairs, and that room I kept disappearing into earlier? Remember that one? That's my room. So, if you absolutely need anything, come bother me and hope I don't kill you," she said, grinning wryly.
"All right." He walked over to the bed and the nightstand. He looked at a small, black object with red numbers on it. Reaching out his hand and touching a button, loud, angry sounding music blared out. He pressed his hands over his ears as Lissa ran over and turned it off.
"Sorry. The, ah, last time I was in here, I was in one of those moods where you hate anything and everything. Ever have one of those moods?" Delemir shook his head. "No? Never? You're strange." She smiled at him and turned down the sheets of the bed with expertise and skill, as if she were someone who had once done that a lot. There was an edge in her movements that held a small amount of disdain and distaste towards the skill she had.
"You are strange as well, Lady. I have yet to figure you out," Delemir replied, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Lissa glanced warily at the touched and shrugged it off. "Yeah, same here." Standing up straighter, she smiled. "Well, good night, Del. I'll see you in the morning." She turned to leave, then stopped about halfway to the door. "What time do you wake up?"
"With the sun," Delemir answered, causing her to wince. "What is it?"
"Sleep in. I wake up around ten, so set your internal clock to that, okie?" Lissa asked.
"I will try." He offered her a smile, which she instinctively returned.
"Good night, Delemir."
"Good night, Melissa."
She stopped her pace and shook her head, still smiling. As she was going down the stairs, she stopped and grabbed her knee. Hissing out a breath, she flexed the joint and continued walking with a limp. Unbeknownst to her, Delemir had seen her and wondered what the cause of that was. When Lissa reached her room, she kicked her radio on and began to change into her flannel night set. Yawning as she did so, she walked into her bathroom and brushed her teeth routinely. Turning the bathroom light and the radio off, she walked to her bed and fell onto it.
"Thank you, God, for this great bed," she muttered before drifting off into a very relaxed state we know as sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hoo-ah! Extra disclaimer: I don't own America's Most Wanted or the "cartoon bit" as Meliss so colorfully put it. Whoa, it's strange writing your own name in a story.....or nickname. But I DO, however, OWN the dark, brooding mood I-she, lol, was describing earlier with the radio. :D And I own the clock radio Del played with *slaps her Elf's hands away from the keys* it's just not in the correct room. ;) Anyhow, I'll shut up so you can review (like a responsible reader :D) and get on to reading other stories. Oh, before I do forget, I.Delemir really is an Elf I use to RP on MSN messenger with Emily. You can see his picture on my MSN icon and at an MSN group called Mr. Mysterious Elf. He's in the Elf claimer's album, I think. Anyway, talk to y'all later!
Blessed be,
Lissa
Chapter 1
Lissa sighed dramatically as she turned the knob on her dryer, switching it on for seventy minutes. Turning swiftly, her long reddish-brown hair whipping around her, she rounded the countertop in the center of her kitchen. She placed the backs on earrings she had previously discarded that afternoon in a frantic wave to become herself again, humming along to the jazz pouring out of her radio. She placed the earrings, two stars, each different colors, on her notebook and carried them with her into her dining room. She placed them on the big freezer by the door and looked around.
She had never really wanted a big house, yet had felt compelled to buy this certain place for a certain reason. What the reason was, she had no idea presently. But, hopefully soon, she'd figure it out. The ceiling was high in the spacious dining room, a candelabra hanging from the center of the ceiling. The gleaming hardwood floors shone with reflections from the lights above it, glaring magnificently. Or terribly, Lissa mused.
Turning on her heel back into the kitchen, she took a gulp of the nearly forgotten milk she had poured for some cookies, she switched her radio off and set the cup in the sink to be dealt with later. She walked out of the kitchen and picked up her notebook and the accursed earrings then started towards her room to the far left of the dining room. Turning sharply and dangerously, a smirk on her tanned face, she walked to her dresser and set the items in her hand there with a clump.
Unbuttoning her baby blue blouse, she kicked a button on her CD player and a Frank Sinatra song came out. She hummed along with it, pulling a soft, white, linen nightdress from her closet and slipping it on. She pulled her cut-offs down her thighs and kicked them away into a pile of dirty laundry. Comfortable, Lissa yawned hugely and stretched. She switched off her light, turned the volume down on her radio and moved to her bathroom to brush her teeth.
As she was doing so, she looked in the mirror and saw the curtains in front of the window billow out and a soft rain pattering outside on her deck. She sighed, finishing the task of brushing her teeth, and turned around to shut the window. As she was shutting it, she saw a man out in the alleyway behind her house. His clothes were ratty looking and his hair was oily. He had liver spots on his face, which stood out a light brownish color against his silvery-white skin and hair. Lissa fought the urge to jolt as she found herself under his piercing green gaze. She calmly shut the window and turned, shuddering. Rubbing her temples in distress and exhaustion, she locked her window and shut the bathroom light off. She pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail and fell onto her bed, instantly leaping into the world of sleep as a man dying in a desert would a pool of icy cold water.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blood. Everywhere, there was thick, crimson blood. The faces of fallen Elves stared back at Delemir cold and lifelessly. Their faces were frozen in the fear they had felt before they had been murdered, put to a premature death. Their eyes stared at him, emotionless and frigid. Delemir shuddered unconsciously as he walked aimlessly passed them.
He didn't know where he was going, or why he was still walking. He hurt so badly that he wondered why he was still standing and hadn't fallen into a world of no pain already. Why hadn't he died with the other Elves? Why wasn't he in the Halls of Mandos with them right now? He had too many questions and so little answers. And much less than he could comprehend.
The single most thought that what in his head right now was that he hurt, both emotionally and physically.
Then he saw it. Up on a hill was a dark figure, slaying Elves by the flick of his wrist. Slaying his kin and friends, those that he had felt special bonds with. For one solid minute, Delemir was still as a stone. His knees buckled, but he stood up straight; his vision clouded, but he still stared in front of him; his heart seemed to have stopped beating, but was replaced in his head. Blood pounded in his ears so that was the only thing he heard; only thing he wanted to hear.
Finally able to move again, see again, Delemir charged forward and up the hill. Something told him to stop, to just stop and go away. He fought against that part, though nothing else was saying to go forward but that one little spot on his brain that sought vengeance on this Black Slayer.
When the cloaked figure turned and saw Delemir, heard his battle cry, the figure merely laughed. The sound was cold and humorless. It only held sly amusement and the glee evil feels when completing a dirty deed.
Sword raised high above his head, Delemir charged the figure. The evil creature raised his arm in front of him, chanted words that Delemir couldn't understand. Then, this awful feeling surged through Delemir. First, hot, searing pain spread through him, only to be replaced by cold plunging deep into his body, into his bones. A feeling of something being ripped out of him went through Delemir, causing him to cry out in the sudden pain. It felt like his very soul was being ripped from him.
And it was, but instead of going to the dark, cloaked figure, it went to another world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sighing and jabbing the wake button on her alarm clock viciously, Lissa grumbled inaudibly and pulled the comforter over her head again. Rolling over, she squinted in the morning sun as it found an opening between the blankets and her face. Grumbling still, she kicked the tangle of covers off of her and made her way to her bathroom to shower.
She'd had a very odd dream. She'd dreamt that there was this tall, blonde, drop-dead gorgeous man in her house with smoldering blue eyes and skin pale as ice, almost. Kicking on her radio to hear Glenn Miller's "In The Mood" blaring through it, she shut the door in her bathroom and turned on the taps over the tub. She glanced out the window, happy to see that freakish old man gone, and began to undress.
After undressing, she switched the shower tap on and stepped into the hot spray. Going through the usual routine of shampooing her hair, then conditioning it, then the body wash bit, she hummed along with the radio outside the door.
Upon hearing a clatter as she was wrapping her long hair in a towel, she belted and tied her white robe and walked out into her bedroom. She poked her head out into the dining room and had a clear view all the way to the front door of her house. Nothing was out of order or place, she decided, and went back into her room. She changed into gray sweat pants and a red thermal shirt to guard her against the upcoming winter in Crystal City, Virginia.
Stepping out into the dining room and into the kitchen, she grabbed an apple and a small juice box-she lived off of those-and made her way to her living room, AKA writing studio. She surveyed everything to make sure it was all okay.
Her antique clock her father had given her was still on the mantel, the radio, of which she seemed to live off of also, was still in the corner, the old record player, dusty and neglected, was still in one piece by the opening to the dining room. Blast, she thought upon seeing the old chunk of wood and mechanical pieces still there. She rolled her eyes and looked over at the couch.
Her candles were still there, the throws over the side of the arms of the couch were there, the tall handsome man from her dream was there on her couch, too, sleeping, and the big dictionary she kept on the side tables were in place. Everything was-Wait.
The tall, handsome man from her dream on her couch, sleeping? That wasn't right.how did he-?
"Oh, no," she murmured, scrubbing her hand over her face. "I haven't fully woken up yet, that's what it is. I'm still sleeping and having a really screwed up dream, or one of my friends are suffering a really bad hangover right now and will be suffering worse when I get my hands on them." She pinched her arm and winced. Looking up, she felt like screaming, but didn't want to wake up the sleeping figure on her couch.
"I'll just." She trailed off when the figure in question moaned slightly as one does after waking from sleep. "Just hope this is a bad dream and that I'll wake up later," she finished when she finally noticed the being slept with his eyes open.
When she saw his vision clear slightly, he looked around until his gaze settled on her. Lissa held perfectly still and dared not to blink, even. With an apple in one hand, a juice box in another, she looked quite like a painted statue.
"Ya naa lle (Who are you)?" the man demanded.
Lissa continued to stare at him, clueless as to what he had just said in some language she hadn't the faintest idea existed. Swallowing hard and wishing to be waking up again with a fresh start and no man, gorgeous as he was, on her couch.
"Ya naa lle?" he repeated.
Letting out the breath she hadn't, quite frankly, known she'd been holding, she said, "If you spoke English, I might be able to answer your question," emphasizing on the word 'English.'
The man looked at her a moment, strangely, then nodded. "Who are you?" he asked in English, finally.
"Well, it seems I'm not going to answer your question yet," Lissa said, backing up slowly, "because this is my house and I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in it."
The man sighed and nodded again. "I am Delemir of Lothlórien, a Marchwarden under the Lady Galadriel's order," he said, standing suddenly and bowing. "I do not quite know as to why I am in your house, my lady."
For some strange reason, those names and places were familiar to Lissa. She couldn't exactly say why, but they were. She searched her mind for some reason as to why she thought she should remember what they meant. She felt like someone had told her a joke and she was missing the punchline while everyone else was laughing.
Taking her glasses off and sticking them through her hair on top of her head, she said, "Well, Delemir.I haven't the faintest idea as to why you're here either, but I'd really appreciate it if you weren't here at all," slowly as she reached around on the table behind her for something she could use as a weapon. Her hands felt something long and hard, so she grabbed it desperately and held it tight behind her back.
Oh, he didn't want to admit he had no other place to go and that he didn't know what was going on. He hated the feeling of helplessness, which was exactly what he was feeling right then. So, mongering up all the pride he had and swallowing every bit of it, he said:
"I have no other place to say, lady. I do know why I am here or how I came to be here, but I would be in your debt greatly if you allowed me to stay here until I found the answers."
She'd always been too soft for her own good. Lissa had hardly been able to block her ex-boyfriend on the Internet, but had finally when she came to her senses. Of course, that was ages ago, it seemed. At least ten years ago. She felt old now. But, bringing herself back to the point, she tried to decide what she would do.
"Let me think here, first, okay buddy?" she asked, dropping whatever item she had onto the floor with a loud clatter to see it was a thick drawing pencil her friend had left here the other day. She flopped down onto the floor and held her head in her hands, trying to think the pros and cons over of this.
Well, she hadn't the faintest idea about anything about this man and he was asking her if he could stay with her until he figured out what the heck he was doing in her living room. Couldn't he think it out on the streets somewhere? Couldn't he just leave her alone so she could pretend it never happened? She had no idea if this guy was on America's Most Wanted or had escaped from a mental health facility a few miles off and broken into her house to crash. She hadn't the faintest idea if this was a prank from one of her friends, or if she was still dreaming in a dream that wouldn't end.
"Fine," she said at length. "I don't know why I'm doing this, or why I haven't called the cops yet-"
"Cops? What are cops?" he asked, starting out in his native tongue, but stopping when he remembered there was no word for 'cops' in his language, and that this girl couldn't understand him.
"Cops, you know, police men? Law enforcement? People who arrest the bad guys when they get caught?" Lissa encouraged, standing up finally, deciding if he tried anything weird, she'd just stab him with a pencil and kill him with lead poisoning.
When he shook his head, Lissa sighed and continued ranting. "Anyway, I don't know why I don't call Officer Brennon down here and say 'Here, this looney toon escaped from a cartoon bin and showed up in my living room.' That'd be the most logical thing to do, seeing as I haven't the faintest idea who you are, or why you're in my living room."
"Are you finished?" Delemir asked dryly.
"What?" Lissa looked up at him, irritated to find him looking bored. "Oh, yeah. More than."
"Good. I would like some breakfast," he said.
"Excuse me?" Lissa said, standing up straighter. "You're demanding breakfast of me? In my own house? I don't think so. If you want something, you get it yourself. Now let me lay some ground rules here, okay buddy?"
He nodded, watching the apple in her hand.
"One, you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours while you try to figure out why the heck you're here. Two, hands off. No touching, and that goes for both of us," she murmured to herself. "You invade my personal space, I have a right to knee you where it counts for men, okay?" He nodded absently again. "Three."
And her words became nothing but noises after that. He remembered something. He remembered the searing pain from something, and then the bitter bite of cold as it had run through his body. He remembered the pain of metal entering his flesh and leaving. The cold gleam in the eyes of the man that held the blade. He remembered drifting into sleep with strange dreams and waking up here, seeing a skinny woman with an apple in one hand, and a strange little box in the other. She'd been standing ramrod straight, so her long, wet, curly hair fell over her shoulders without being moved.
"Hello? Are you listening to me?" the girl's voice broke through his thoughts. "You're kind of in my way to work, so if you wouldn't mind moving please?"
Delemir snapped back to reality and nodded obligingly, moving from her way. He watched her disappear behind a clutter of paper and a strange gray machine. It was small as she picked it up. He watched her lay down on the couch and set the thing on her lap. It made a strange whirring noise and beeped when she lifted a top part of it. Wondering what it was, he reached a finger out to it. Lissa slapped his hand away automatically.
"Hands off applied to, not only me, but my stuff as well," Lissa said.
"What is your name?" Delemir asked, ignoring her comment.
"Melissa, but call me Lissa," she said shortly, moving a little green eraser like thing in the middle of the keyboard on her laptop. She opened up her word processor and began vigorously typing in one of her short stories.
"Well, Lady Lissa-"
"What a minute!" she interrupted. "It's either plain Lissa or you don't talk to me at all."
"Very well." He paused, then spoke again. "Lady, I would be much more conversational if I had something to eat, but as I do not know where any of your food is, I would be much obliged if you would show me."
Lissa looked up at Delemir and sighed. "You have to be the most annoying dream I have ever had before," she said, shaking her head. "Ever." She shook her head and tossed her apple to the blonde man.
"I beg to differ, lady, but I am most certainly not a dream." Delemir caught the apple, watching her intently. "I am as real as you are, if you are not a dream as well."
"Wait, here," Lissa said, pushing her laptop off of her legs onto the coffee table. "I am not a dream either, so." She stood slowly and took wary steps towards him. When she was in front of him she lifted her hand in the air and touched his face.
"Oh my, you're real!" She jumped back and shrieked slightly.
"Of course I am." Delemir lifted his own hand and tangled it in her hair gently. "And so are you."
"Then you're not a-a dream?" Lissa's eyes fluttered into the back of her head and shut. She collapsed forward into Delemir's arms. Delemir instinctively caught her and sighed. Pushing her up right again, he lay her down on the couch and watched her.
She had long hair that reached the crook of her elbows when she was standing, but now it was over her face, mussed and wet. Her slightly tan complexion was dimmed in the poor light of the room. Her small build looked as though he could fit his hands around her waist easily, and still overlap. Long, endless legs stretched to the end of the couch, and her arms were folded on her stomach.
Leaning back, Delemir thought of why he was here. Why had he been put here? How had he gotten here? It seemed impractical that he was still dreaming, he thought. It wasn't just impractical, it was impossible. He would have woken up a long time ago, he mused.
Delemir was pulled from his thoughts when a shrill ringing noise sounded, causing him to jolt. He looked at Lissa, whose eyes were now open, wide. She reached behind her and grabbed a small, white object. She pressed a button on it and spoke into it.
"Hello?" she said. She made other slight noises and laughed warily. She stood, casting a weird glance at Delemir, and disappeared into a backroom.
"I know, Emily, it's strange. He just all of a sudden was in my living room. And the freakish thing is that I had a dream with this guy in it." She paused. "What? Yes, yes, I heard you, and no, I'm not going to answer your question." She paused again. "Well, if you want to see him so bad, you come over and see him. Besides, I don't exactly want to zone out with this guy here." She, yet again, paused for about two seconds. "Okay, bye." There was a quiet beeping noise and Lissa emerged back into the living room.
"What is that thing?" Delemir asked, glancing at the object.
"Oh, this?" Lissa held it up. "It's a phone. You can talk to people through it. Don't you know what a telephone is, buddy?"
Delemir shook his head. "No, I have never seen one of those objects in my life, which has been a very long time," he said, standing from the chair he sat in.
Lissa looked him over. "Mmm, you don't look that old. I'd say you're about twenty-five," she said, sitting back down on her couch and picking up the strange box with pictures on it.
"More along the lines of twenty-five hundred," Delemir muttered.
"What? First you say that I'm a dream when I'm very much real, then you don't know what a phone is, and then you say you're older than two millenniums. You have to be on something strong, then," Lissa said, grinning. "It's the year 2003, almost 2004. There was about...Hmm, maybe about 2000 years before we started counting up, but I'm not too sure. Oh, there's Emily."
Lissa stood at the bell-like sound and walked into another room that he thought of to be the entrance hall. She unlocked about three locks then opened the door. A brown haired woman, a little shorter than Lissa, walked in. Delemir guessed this was the 'Emily' Lissa had spoken to over that nuisance of a telephone. The two stood talking over this and that, occasionally pointing in Delemir's direction.
"Liar," Emily said.
"Absolutely not." Lissa held her hands up, palms out.
"So he just popped up in your living room?"
"Yep. Strangest morning and dream I've ever had."
"Hey! Are you calling me a dream?"
"No. I think I woke up when you called and he was still there. I just took in that I wasn't really dreaming when I woke up earlier because I didn't fall asleep on my couch last night," Lissa said, linking arms with Emily and walking into the living room.
"Delemir, Emily. Emily, Delemir," Lissa said, gesturing between them both.
"Uh, Mel, come here for a moment." Emily pulled Melissa out into a different room and Delemir could hear their hushed voices and hissing whispers. He grinned, wryly amused.
"What?" he heard Lissa say.
"Do you remember when we were both teenagers? You were about thirteen, I was seventeen?"
"Hardly. What about it?" Lissa asked dryly.
"Well, we had pretense Elves that we would role play with on the Internet. Remember that?"
"Vaguely, though I'm making an effort. What's your point?"
"Dude, you had an Elf named Delemir who, I distinctly remember because you had a picture of both of your Elves on MSN for a long time, looked like that." Delemir saw who he guessed was Emily's hand pointing in his direction.
There was silence for about twenty seconds before someone let out a little squeak of laughter that formed into long, bubbly laughter. "Okay, I am dreaming!" he heard Lissa gasp, between breaths of air.
Emily sighed loudly and a quiet slapping noise was heard. She and Lissa walked back into the room, Lissa holding the back of her head.
"Fine. But when I go to sleep tonight, then wake up in the morning and Delemir isn't here, then I'm going to call you up and say I had the most real dream I've ever had in my life," Lissa said, sitting on a chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that was that. It was about ten hours later when Lissa was closing the door in her foyer. Emily was on her way home, Delemir was sitting in the living room, looking amused, and Lissa had a splitting headache. She fell down onto her couch and pulled a light pillow over her face.
"Lady, you have very amusing friends," Delemir said.
"Shut up and get me a Tylenol," Lissa replied.
"I would if I knew what a Tylenol was and where they were located. Are you all right, my lady?"
"Great, never better."
"You just have not eaten much today. I believe I only saw you eat about half of the plate you fixed for your dinner when Emily was here." Delemir stood. "Are you well?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Delemir. I just don't eat much, that's all." Lissa sat up and grabbed her head. "Delemir, I think I've finally accepted you're not a dream. If this is a dream it's the most real dream I've ever had."
"Why do you say that?"
"I've never had a headache in a dream. Much less eaten spaghetti in a dream as well," she added. She smirked and walked over to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a scotch and water. She downed it quickly and coughed slightly at the burning sensation down her throat. "Or felt the good feeling of a drink going down my esophagus."
Delemir watched her intently and sighed. "I have decided you are not a dream as well. I am trying to think of why I am here, as well, though I have accepted the fact I am here for a reason that is relevant."
"Good. Now." Lissa suddenly reached up to her head and swayed slightly.
"Are you all right?" Delemir asked, walking over to her, placing his hand on her elbow and back. "Lady?"
Lissa waited another beat before saying, "I'm fine." She stood up straighter and shrugged Delemir's grasp off of her. "Really. I just need to go to my room." She sighed, turned, then turned back around. "Let me take you to the guestroom, okay?"
"All right," Delemir answered, watching her turn and walk past him into the foyer. She walked up some stairs and, following slowly, Delemir followed her with his eyes as well as she turned to her right and then to her left into a room.
"Are you coming?" she called from inside it as Delemir was up onto the hallway she had turned off of into the guest bedroom. She poked her head out and looked around, stopping when she looked at him. "Oh, good. Come on." She gestured him into the room and then around the room itself.
"This is a large room," Delemir said quietly.
"Meh, my room is bigger, thank God. But if you need anything, the bathroom is just down the hall-all the way-and to your.left. Then, I'm downstairs, and that room I kept disappearing into earlier? Remember that one? That's my room. So, if you absolutely need anything, come bother me and hope I don't kill you," she said, grinning wryly.
"All right." He walked over to the bed and the nightstand. He looked at a small, black object with red numbers on it. Reaching out his hand and touching a button, loud, angry sounding music blared out. He pressed his hands over his ears as Lissa ran over and turned it off.
"Sorry. The, ah, last time I was in here, I was in one of those moods where you hate anything and everything. Ever have one of those moods?" Delemir shook his head. "No? Never? You're strange." She smiled at him and turned down the sheets of the bed with expertise and skill, as if she were someone who had once done that a lot. There was an edge in her movements that held a small amount of disdain and distaste towards the skill she had.
"You are strange as well, Lady. I have yet to figure you out," Delemir replied, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Lissa glanced warily at the touched and shrugged it off. "Yeah, same here." Standing up straighter, she smiled. "Well, good night, Del. I'll see you in the morning." She turned to leave, then stopped about halfway to the door. "What time do you wake up?"
"With the sun," Delemir answered, causing her to wince. "What is it?"
"Sleep in. I wake up around ten, so set your internal clock to that, okie?" Lissa asked.
"I will try." He offered her a smile, which she instinctively returned.
"Good night, Delemir."
"Good night, Melissa."
She stopped her pace and shook her head, still smiling. As she was going down the stairs, she stopped and grabbed her knee. Hissing out a breath, she flexed the joint and continued walking with a limp. Unbeknownst to her, Delemir had seen her and wondered what the cause of that was. When Lissa reached her room, she kicked her radio on and began to change into her flannel night set. Yawning as she did so, she walked into her bathroom and brushed her teeth routinely. Turning the bathroom light and the radio off, she walked to her bed and fell onto it.
"Thank you, God, for this great bed," she muttered before drifting off into a very relaxed state we know as sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hoo-ah! Extra disclaimer: I don't own America's Most Wanted or the "cartoon bit" as Meliss so colorfully put it. Whoa, it's strange writing your own name in a story.....or nickname. But I DO, however, OWN the dark, brooding mood I-she, lol, was describing earlier with the radio. :D And I own the clock radio Del played with *slaps her Elf's hands away from the keys* it's just not in the correct room. ;) Anyhow, I'll shut up so you can review (like a responsible reader :D) and get on to reading other stories. Oh, before I do forget, I.Delemir really is an Elf I use to RP on MSN messenger with Emily. You can see his picture on my MSN icon and at an MSN group called Mr. Mysterious Elf. He's in the Elf claimer's album, I think. Anyway, talk to y'all later!
Blessed be,
Lissa
