Chapter 21 You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Cry
There in the corner of the barn sits a white haired old man, rocking in a tattered black leather recliner. He has a beard, little gold rimmed bifocals, and cherry red cheeks. He wears a gray sweatshirt with the logo of the tree farm company on it, faded blue jeans, and white Nike tennis shoes that have seen better days. He probably would be considered a jolly old soul if it weren't for the look of complete shock on his face.
On his ample lap sits a 6-foot tall elf. The real kind, not the kind that makes toys or cookies.
Legolas is gazing in complete fascination into the old man's twinkling eyes, and though he is squirming with excitement, he is careful not to dislodge the hot dog covered in chili and mustard that the bearded old man holds in his right hand.
"I hav bean luukin fur u all dae!" Legolas declares. " I noe all doze othr peepl ar eempoestrz, buet I NEUW if I keapt luukin I wuld fiend u."
The old man is looking about as if wishing to be rescued. After all, most men don't spend their time fantasizing that long blonde-haired MALES have hopped upon their knee. As he realizes that Legolas has mistaken his identity, the old man sees that the situation can best be settled by just playing along. At least, I THINK he is just playing.
"And what can I do for you this holiday season, my friend?" asks the man, his voice a only just little rattled.
"I caem tu aesk fur sumpting fur Chreestmiss," says the Prance. "Buet furst, I hav sum thangz I nead tu aesk u."
"Well, fire away," 'Santa' says, leaning back into the recliner and polishing off the last bite of the chilidog.
"Well, furst my frand Seeweed sed I shuld aesk u whie u ar soe faet, buet I toel her u ar paeddid soe ur laep wuld bea moar cumfertabel to siet en. Plues, da eggstra paeddin wuld keap u waermr wile u ar flien en da coeld aier soe faest," predicts the Prance.
"al waentz tu noe hoew u met Mizziz Klauez. I toel her I bet it wuz a loeng roemantik stoeree, won wear u livd en da saem nayburhuud an sloelee fael een lub, like beast frandz furst."
"Leedle Peep waentz tu noe hoew meany keedz due u goe sea eech yeer, an hoew meany of dem git a luemp of koel. I new u wuld noet leav out eniwon, eben baed cheeldren git sumptaning. Beasidz, cheeldren ar noet reely baed, jest misscheevus. . . . . like yung elflaengz."
"Yeas Deer waented tu noe abot ur suemmr joeb, buet we all noe u muest sueprviez doze . . . .uhmm. . . . . errr. . . . toeymaekrz duering da suemmr, soe all da toeyz weel bea redy at Chreestmiss."
He sucks in a deep breath, and I close my eyes and say a wish of my own. Please, Lord, let this man have the patience of Job and the endurance of the Eldar, because here it comes. . . .
"Due u goe tu a lot of howsez dat due noet hav cheemneez? Whut due u due, hoew due u git een? Hav u eber buernd ursef comin doewn da cheemnee whin da fier iz noet all da wae out? If u deed, hoew deed u siet doewn aftr dat? Hoew due u git all ober da erth een jest won nite? Whut haeppnz eef won of da raendear ar seeck? Duz eberybuddie hav tu ware onlee read or grean klothz? Whin Ruedoff's noez duzn't wurk, kin't u jest chaeng da buelb? Whut eez ur faevurate kiend of kuukie? Due u git tierd of draenkin all dat meelk?Whut's ur faevurate Chreestmiss karul? Whin iz ur burfdae? Whie due dey cael demsefz elves eef dey ar da siez of dwarves? Ar dere feat reely poentid like dose shuuz dat dey ware?"
" An moest of all, due u thaenk u culd com tu Meedle erth tu?"
He finally stops, out of air. 'Santa' blinks.
"What did you say your name was, son?" 'Santa' asks.
"Legolas. Prance Legolas Greenleaf, sier," answers the elf.
" I see," says 'Santa,' not really sure if he sees the whole picture or not.
Legolas has settled himself comfortably into the old man's lap, and has proceeded to wiggle down into the crook of his arm as if ready to stay until all of his questions are done. He sighs contentedly, takes his eyes off 'Santa's' face, and makes eye contact with me. His mouth turns up a little at the edges in his personal rendition of, 'well, I guess I'll get comfortable now, because this is going to take a while.' He shrugs his shoulders at me.
"I'm sorry, sir," I say, moving to the recliner to pull Legolas off the old man's lap. "He's not from around here, and all of this is quite new to him. He gets a little overexcited at times."
The old man smiles kindly up at me. "Now, now, my dear," he begins, "this little fellow has not bothered me a bit. In fact, he has some rather important questions that need answering. Let him stay a minute. I think he may have a little something he's wishing he could get off his chest."
Legolas nods, looking once again at 'Santa.' "I due hav sumpthaeng ealse I nead tu taelk tu u abot. Sumpthang. . . . priavite," he confides.
"Are you sure it's ok?" I ask, hesitant to turn Legolas loose on the unsuspecting grandfatherly fellow. He seems to be so relaxed now, as if having strangers hop onto his knee is something that happens every day. "Legolas doesn't mean to impose, do you dear?" I reply, jerking my head away from chair indicating to Legolas that he really should get off the man's lap, as in NOW.
"Relax, my dear. I won't bite him. I promise," says 'Santa.' He suddenly lets out a guffawing laugh, shaking from head to toe, all of his ample fat rolls jiggling around like a dish of black cherry Jell-O.
Legolas begins to giggle too, bouncing around in time with the laughter ringing forth from the old man. The picture they produce is priceless. Both almost as old as time itself, yet both so childlike and innocent.
"Really, honey," 'Santa' says to me," go get yourself a hotdog and an apple cider. It's the best in the world here. You can keep an eye on him from there, and that will give him a chance to tell me the secret he needs to share."
I nod and move a little reluctantly away from them, heading toward the refreshment table. After all, even though the old man is a stranger, there is something oddly familiar about him. He does look remarkably like someone who could play a mall Santa without adding any more than the red coat and pants and the black boots and belt.
I can hear their merry laughter as I squeeze out the mustard and put the chili on my hot dog. They get very quiet, and my protective mother instincts make me look to see that all is well, finding Legolas whispering furtively into the old man's ear, his long fingered hand cupping the space between Santa's ear and his own mouth so that no one can read his lips. Santa just nods.
After a few more moments, Legolas climbs down from the old man's knee, bows briefly, and shakes his hand. As he bounds over to me sitting there at the picnic table, Santa rises from his recliner and moves into the little office located behind his chair.
Legolas fixes himself a couple of the chilidogs, adding onions and relish with the mustard, chili, and ketchup. He's got so much stuff loaded on there it's a wonder he doesn't need a spoon to eat it with. As he works to maintain a modicum of decorum while eating the conglomeration, Santa reappears, carrying a red fur hat with white trim and a white ball on the end. He approaches the Prance, and jauntily sets the red cap on top of the long blonde tresses.
"Son, you really need a Santa hat. Someone might mistake you for one of those toymakers with those unique ears if you don't keep them covered and warm. Merry Christmas," he says, his eyes twinkling.
"Maerrie Chreestmiss tu u, tu!" Legolas answers, beaming.
As we pull out of the parking lot, Legolas rolls down the window, hollering, "Mearrie Chreestmiss, Saenta!" The old man laughs and waves back, his great belly wiggling and jiggling.
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We head back down the mountain, taking our time, Legolas still riding shotgun to combat the motion sickness from before. Yes Dear has explained to him that he needs to tell us if he feels ill, so that we can pull over and rest until the symptoms pass and thereby avoid the earlier embarrassment. So far, we've gone 15 minutes twisting and turning without any signs of a problem. This alternate road seems less steep and winding than the earlier one.
As we turn a particularly sharp bend, we come upon a small country town. It seems as if there has been some sort of major accident here, as there are at least a dozen police cars and fire trucks parked on the sides of the road. The policeman standing on the center yellow line of the highway motions for us to move on ahead, to follow the police car in front of us through the danger.
Peering out the side windows, we cannot find the source of the activity. There doesn't seem to be a car wreck, though there are people parked all over on both sides of the roadway, some sitting on the hoods of their cars or standing in the beds of their pickup trucks. As Yes Dear continues to drive forward, Legolas rolls down his window for a better view. Failing to get one, he finally unbuckles his seatbelt and perches on the window ledge, sitting with his legs inside on the seat and his upper body outside the van.
People begin to cheer and wave at him, so of course, he waves back, yelling, "Hae! Maerrie Chreestmiss!" Horns are honking, children are waving, people appear and plop themselves down in lawn chairs in the front yards as we crawl slowly by. Everyone is dressed in Christmas red and green, wearing Santa hats, and generally in an awfully good mood for witnessing a disaster.
"I hate to tell you this," says Yes Dear, "but Dorothy, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
"What do you mean?" I ask, having no idea at this point what is going on.
His reply is cut off by a loud squealing from outside the van on the passenger side. "LEGOLAS!! THAT'S LEGOLAS GREENLEAF!!!!" pierces our ears.
"WE LOVE YOU, LEGOLAS!!!!" comes the echoing cry from the driver's side.
"HAE! HAE! HAE EBERIBUDDIE!!!" shouts the Prance from his perch on the door. He is waving madly and blowing kisses.
"I think we're in the front of the local hometown parade," says Yes Dear. "You won't believe this, but there are about 6 trucks pulling all kinds of trailers decorated with Christmas things behind us. There's a fire truck, and all the other police cars lining up behind us too."
Shrill cries of "LEGOLAS!! LEGOLAS!!!" ring out along both sides of the street. The Prance continues to wave and send kisses to both sides of the van. He takes a quick second to lean in and tell Yes Dear, "Sloe doewn, I kin't sea eberybuddie oen boeth siedz whin we ar goen dis faest!" then he ducks his head back out through the window, resuming his waving.
"Wait, if we're in the front, then where is the Grand Marshall?" I ask Yes Dear.
"I think that's his posterior you're getting a view of," states Yes Dear, nodding his head at the Prance. "The people out here think Legolas is the Grand Marshall of this parade, and you know, I think he's doing a fairly good job with it!"
Little Pip is now down on the floorboard, hiding. "Momma," she whispers loudly so I can hear her above the cheering crowd, "this isn't really happening, is it?" She is mortified.
"Yep," I reply.
The caterwauling continues, with shrieks of "WE LOVE YOU, LEGOLAS!!!" and "OH MY GOD, IT REALLY IS HIM!!!!! " and "HI, LEGOLAS!!! YOU'RE TERRIFIC!!" boring in from both sides. As we reach the edge of town, Yes Dear becomes concerned at the number of teenage girls running along beside the van. One of them manages to reach out and grasp the sleeve of Legolas' sweatshirt, stretching it about 3 sizes larger before he manages to free himself.
"Noew, laedeez, leatz noet git kerried awae. . . " he starts, then hollering, "Oeewwww!" when one of the girls gets a handful of blonde hair. He loses a good size chunk that time. The fun and games are over. No one messes with the hair.
He leans back in the window. "Dere'z abot a hunnerd laedeez foelloing us," he pants, breathless. "U bedder steap on it!" He drops back into his seat, trying desperately to roll up his window and put on his seatbelt at the same time. Young women are running on both sides of the van now, hammering on the windows with their hands, trying to get in front of the van to make us stop.
Somehow, we miraculously reach the end of the parade route, and the police car in front of us sees what is happening. The officer turns quickly to the left, speeding up as he moves off the parade route and into the backstreets of this little town. He leads us at a quick pace to the edge of town, pulling off the side of the road and letting Yes Dear pull up beside him.
"Sorry!" he says. "Didn't know the crowd was gonna be so excited! I thought we could make it through before the actual parade started with the mayor's car right behind you. He won in a landslide over this really crooked guy, and the town is still all excited, even though it's been a good month since the election. They must have somehow mistaken your car for his!"
"No problem," says Yes Dear, though from the sweat on his brow you would wonder if it wasn't a little closer than he would have liked. He'd much rather watch the parade from the lawn chair than be in it, you see.
We move on down the road. "Legolas, are you ok?" I ask from the backseat. "You are awfully quiet."
"Whut haeppnd bak dere?" he asks, turning to face me with eyes wide. "Wear doze. . .. . faenguerlz??"
Oh yeah, baby. (c al)
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On the way home, I coerce Yes Dear into stopping at the theater to see if tickets are on sale yet for The Two Towers. I stand in line with the rest of the holiday moviegoers while the rest of my family ride around in the warm car circling the parking lot, waiting a good 30 minutes before I even get close to the counter. There are at least 6 ticket sales lines open, and the patrons are waiting close to 20 deep in the cold chill of the gusty wind outside the theater.
The woman behind me is quick to note that she has been standing in the cold for over 25 minutes, and that her movie of choice starts in 5 more minutes. She sets up a constant monologue about the weather, and her feet hurting, and the need for more sales lines, and how the movie she has been waiting to see will be sold out by the time she gets to the window. Her friend is wishing he could have invited someone else to the movies, I am sure. As we approach the ticket window, I get a mean sense of satisfaction in stating loudly which movie it is I have waited over half an hour to purchase tickets for.
"I'd like 3 tickets for the first showing of The Two Towers," I tell the saleswoman. The look on her face is priceless, but the gasp from behind me is even richer to my ears.
"We aren't showing The Two Towers," the ticket lady says, staring at me as if I have gone a little nuts. "It doesn't start for another couple of weeks."
"I know," I answer. "It starts in exactly 19 days. I want 3 tickets for the midnight show on the 17th/18th , if you are having one."
She has to go get the manager to show her how to get the information from the computer. The woman behind me is keeping me pleasantly warm breathing hotly down my neck.
No midnight show. I take 3 tickets to the noon show on Wednesday instead. One for me, one for Yes Dear, and one for Legolas. Little Pip will be at Grammar Laedee's house, as she does not want to see the movie until I have seen it so I can warn her about all the scary parts. I also take 2 tickets for the 8:00 pm show. Won't be needing 3 this time.
As I stroll back to the van, I see his face peering out at me from the front passenger window. It suddenly dawns on me exactly what the prize in my hand really means. Nothing comes without a price. Sometimes the price is more than we want to pay.
"Deed u git dem??" he shouts excitedly as I open the van door. He reaches out to grab them from me.
"Oeh Boey! I em goen hoem!!!"
I turn my face away from him in the darkness of the back seat, careful to hide the tears that trickle slowly down my face.
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A/N: It is an integral part of the Return Theory that Legolas MUST be present at the FIRST Greenwood showing of The Two Towers. We were just now out Christmas shopping, and decided on a whim to pester the theater manager about having a midnight show. To my horror, I discovered the theater has been rented out to a private group for a midnight showing on the 17th/18th.
The manager was kind enough to understand our dilemma and to sell me three tickets. I don't want to think how close we came to missing it completely.
Now I have to deal with losing him 12 hours earlier than I had planned. We are now at less than 24 hours and counting down. . . .
And now:
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas
Grammar Laedee: Malebokz? I wuz plaenin oen goen all da wae tu da beeg roed tu da stoepsine. I lub shaempuu, braeng dat SUV tu me!
Laura: glaed u joyend us. U reed reely faest! I em reatuernin to Meedle erth in a maettr of hoerz noew, soe I weel noet bea hear fur Chreestmiss.
ElvenPickle: Thaenkz fur tipin tu me! I hav neber bean en a vaen tu da mowntaenz beafour, buet it wuz noet tu baed aftur I goet uzed tu it. Lubbabel AN adoerabel? *swuunz*
anna: Soe glaed u tiped tu me beafour I haed tu goe! I due lub choklit stueff!
Roselyn: I em vary flaexzable. *flaexzez tu souendz of squeelz * O.O Whie duz dat souend keap hapenin? I nead sum oiel. Keap reedin, u weel sea suun!
aranel_elf: al sez she haed noe ideea abot da fuenniee thangz u Brietz sae, buet she iz laernin faest an apresheatez da leasonz. Keap her straite fur me, okae?
leail: I have messed u! I em glaed u caem bak beafour I haed tu leeve. U kin reely git huert meassin wid doze naestie Oerkz, soe bea karfuel! An choklit bandanaz AR GUUD!
Phoenix Flight: Da trea iz beutaful an vary haeppie. Al puet a pikshur oen her bio paeg, deed u sea it? I wuz afraed u deed noet like me whin u furst rote tu me, buet I em tuched dat we hav beacom guud fraendz.
SilverStarlightAngel: U kin thaenk Nancing Elf dat we all cael her al. It taekz her fureber tu tipe her naem-eben immoralz like me git tierd waetin. Sorree, I hav a reapuutashun fur eetin all da choklit een site, soe dere iz noe moer. Thaenks fur tipin tu me beafour I leaft.
Lily Frost: I em soe sorree abot Willow. Dat iz da haerdist thang abot lievin wid moertalz. al keapz da ruum whur da trea iz muech koolr dan da raest of da hoesz. Plues it doez noet reely git tuu kold hear eniwae. Hoep u feal bedder suun!
Michelle: Hav u bean reedin "Elvish Lessons"? I deedn't noew al whuz gunna tipe doze leassonz up. Bea a guud gurl-Saenta iz wachen u!
Arilyn: Kar siek iz meassy an smaelie. I due noet plaen tu bea cought agin noet nowen whut iz haeppinin en my stumik. al sez she iz dun kliefhaengin.
Laure: U uzed ur haed? Oew!! U ar noet stoopid, jest aksident proen. Like dat guy wid da cuerly broewn hare whoe thaenkz he iz me. He haz pueppie eyez tu!
Angaloth: Allargik tu treaz? Dat iz jest noet fare! We deed hav a wunnerful tiem. Sumtiemz u jest hav tu bea kleer an aesk fur eggsacktly whut u waent.
Endomiel: U've bean reedin "In Da Haellz" bie TreaHueggr, havn't u?! Peenk soot wid wangz? *HHUuurrrmmmpphhh* Dat'll bea da dae! (Deed I maek da noeiz rite, Ada?)
Magical Rachel: al'z kar deedn't smael neer az baed az it deed dis suemmr whin she furgoet tu braeng een da meelk she bot at da grossery stoer-fur 3 daez! al sez ebery dae wid me iz like Chreestmiss!
Skye Rocket: I em glaed tu here u sae u lubd it woen laest tiem. Fudj duz rok, espaesially da Roky Roed kiend.
La Princess D'or: U jest taek a bandana, kuet it en haf wid ur leedle wite nife, puet a poepsikle steek en da end u kuet, an diep it entu maelted choklit. Den u fraez it. It IZ guud! Thaenkz fur taellin me abot ur neu naem! I like it!
Eileen: al sez she haz tu rite faest az we ar oen a deedlien. I thaenk frum luukin at her, she neadz a brake rite abot noew, beasiedz da won she haz een her fuut wich she deed noet rite abot, tho sum of u noe abot it.
Lady Silence: Thaenk u fur da Pez an fudj. Nekkid pikshurz of me? Goesh, whoe wuld bie doze?
isilwen: Dere ar meany foermz of deskrimanashun. It duz seam iroenik tu keel a trea fur a saeveeor'z burfdae saleabrashun whin he weel lader alsoe die tu saev maenkiend. I weel mees u . . . .
gershwin: I kin bea leen, and I kin bea meen, buet a lubbin masheen? Whoea! I lub choklit. al lubz it aelmoest az muech az me, she enharited it frum da Grammar Laedee I thaenk. I doen't noe wich kiend iz my faevurite.
ashlee: It iz noet fuen gittin siek. Noew I noe whie huemenz ar suech baybeez whin dey due noet feal guud.
SarWolf Snape: al sez thaenkz, she'z glaed u thaenk itz fuennie. Whin she sez dat, she haz a soert of saerkastik toen tu her voece. Deed u sea owr trea on al'z bio paeg?
Newmoon: I hoep u ar noet desapoyntid wid whut I deed dis tiem. I deed noet noe u culd taep daence! Woew!
JavaGlxy: Yeas, da trea iz vary haeppie, deed u sea it yaet? I hav bean weenin misef frum choklit soe I doent goe entu shoek or anithang whin I reeturn tu Meedle erth. I em soerrie I deed noet git tu ried en ur kar.
Kat: Yaes, da Creestmiss trea faerm wuz kwite an aedvanshur. I deed okae comin hoem en da kar, I jest thaenk I deed noet noe tu tael Yeas Deer I fealt fuennie. It hepz tu ried en da frunt, and tu goe sloe an noet luuk ouet da siedz of da vaen.
Loopy4_1: I em goen hoem en a feuw houerz noew. Mebbe al an Yeas Deer would laet u com neckz yeer. Lembaz ar guud, buet u due git tierd of dem. I'd raethr hav a choklit bandana. Doez treaz wear haeppie tu sea me!
Nancing Elf: *gruemblez * Elvez maekin toeyz. . . . doze ar dwarvez klaemin tu bea elvez. . .I kin't bealeeve doze hueminz liestned tu dem dwarvez wid dere taelz. . .. Mae I pet u won laest tiem? *paetz NE en my laep 10 loeng strokez frum her haed tu her tael *
IRENA: WHUR AR U??Mebbe it iz fur da beast dat we paert like dis. Im glerin al-tirai min le, Arwenamin. Im gelir le anirant im an buia-le. Amin harmva melavys e'cormamin, A'maelamin.
Puter Patty: (oohh, al, ritin dese ledderz ez gittin soe haerd . . . .I know, nin caun, but you are strong, come on) Yeas Deer shulda goet worrier braedz da dae he merried al feeftean yeerz agoe, tu heare heem tael it. al sez noe moer kliefhaengrz. Akoemplashed da leest?? Whoe saevd Gandalf oen Caradras? Whoe wear dey kaellin whin da Wacher en da Wader wuz aeftur us? Doze beeg braev smaellie men wear sayen "Legolas!!Legolas!!!" Whoe shoet da arow entu da Oerk dat wuz abot tu keel Araporn at Amon Hen?? Whoe keeld da caev troall? Hueh?? Hueh??? *groewlz * Da kweast iz duumed widout me. It weel bea vary haerd, buet I muest goe. I weel mees u vary muech. I steel thaenk I wuld hav enjoeyd havin my hare en coernroez. Thaenk u fur alwaez beein dere ebery chaeptr fur me. I hoep u weel kuntinue to dreem abot me. Uma, amin naa fauka vys, meleth-nin.
JastaElf: (*sliedz boenlesslee tu da floer AGIN * Come on baby, you can do this. . . .* al pulls Legolas back into the chair, patting his cheek * Uuhhh. . . I kin't! I kinnot sae guudbie tu her! Then don't, just talk to her and pretend it's ok, ok? Okae. . . .) Hae Jaesta! Hae Ada! (al, I kin't! I doen't theenk I kin due dis! Yes, you can, come on..) I em glaed Ada goet tu eet all doze wunderful soendin fuudz. Deed u saev me eni choklit moose? Doze moose ar beeg, wuzn't dat daengerus? An whur deed u hav tu tuch dat moose tu git it oen ur feenger, hueh Jaesta??? Keap dem bizy fur me Ada, okae? Im mel le!
TreeHugger: (al, I jest kin't! Yes, you can, come on, we'll do it together- just start by answering her question about the dentist. Ooeh, al, I dunnot thaenk I kin . . . Say hi to her, just start typing something easy. . . .Okae. . . .) Hae Trea! I keap my teef brueshd bedder hear dan een Meedle erth. I doent hav tiem tu git faet, I em moevin tu faest. U deed beet CowgirlKK12! She weel noet bea haeppie! Dere ar sum aedvaentagez tu gittin up earlee, like beain able tu rite stoereez and taelk tu ur fraendz oen da IM. Sae hae tu Natebuddie fur me, an tu CowgirlKK12 whoe haz a cruesh oen me, dat layzeeboenz! Thaenk u fur saendin doze pikshurz dat u dreaw of me tu al, she weel nead dem suun I feer. Suun she weel bea bak tu her faest beata'n sef.
Trea, taek kaer of al fur me, okae? Proemis? Amin mela vys. . . . . .
There in the corner of the barn sits a white haired old man, rocking in a tattered black leather recliner. He has a beard, little gold rimmed bifocals, and cherry red cheeks. He wears a gray sweatshirt with the logo of the tree farm company on it, faded blue jeans, and white Nike tennis shoes that have seen better days. He probably would be considered a jolly old soul if it weren't for the look of complete shock on his face.
On his ample lap sits a 6-foot tall elf. The real kind, not the kind that makes toys or cookies.
Legolas is gazing in complete fascination into the old man's twinkling eyes, and though he is squirming with excitement, he is careful not to dislodge the hot dog covered in chili and mustard that the bearded old man holds in his right hand.
"I hav bean luukin fur u all dae!" Legolas declares. " I noe all doze othr peepl ar eempoestrz, buet I NEUW if I keapt luukin I wuld fiend u."
The old man is looking about as if wishing to be rescued. After all, most men don't spend their time fantasizing that long blonde-haired MALES have hopped upon their knee. As he realizes that Legolas has mistaken his identity, the old man sees that the situation can best be settled by just playing along. At least, I THINK he is just playing.
"And what can I do for you this holiday season, my friend?" asks the man, his voice a only just little rattled.
"I caem tu aesk fur sumpting fur Chreestmiss," says the Prance. "Buet furst, I hav sum thangz I nead tu aesk u."
"Well, fire away," 'Santa' says, leaning back into the recliner and polishing off the last bite of the chilidog.
"Well, furst my frand Seeweed sed I shuld aesk u whie u ar soe faet, buet I toel her u ar paeddid soe ur laep wuld bea moar cumfertabel to siet en. Plues, da eggstra paeddin wuld keap u waermr wile u ar flien en da coeld aier soe faest," predicts the Prance.
"al waentz tu noe hoew u met Mizziz Klauez. I toel her I bet it wuz a loeng roemantik stoeree, won wear u livd en da saem nayburhuud an sloelee fael een lub, like beast frandz furst."
"Leedle Peep waentz tu noe hoew meany keedz due u goe sea eech yeer, an hoew meany of dem git a luemp of koel. I new u wuld noet leav out eniwon, eben baed cheeldren git sumptaning. Beasidz, cheeldren ar noet reely baed, jest misscheevus. . . . . like yung elflaengz."
"Yeas Deer waented tu noe abot ur suemmr joeb, buet we all noe u muest sueprviez doze . . . .uhmm. . . . . errr. . . . toeymaekrz duering da suemmr, soe all da toeyz weel bea redy at Chreestmiss."
He sucks in a deep breath, and I close my eyes and say a wish of my own. Please, Lord, let this man have the patience of Job and the endurance of the Eldar, because here it comes. . . .
"Due u goe tu a lot of howsez dat due noet hav cheemneez? Whut due u due, hoew due u git een? Hav u eber buernd ursef comin doewn da cheemnee whin da fier iz noet all da wae out? If u deed, hoew deed u siet doewn aftr dat? Hoew due u git all ober da erth een jest won nite? Whut haeppnz eef won of da raendear ar seeck? Duz eberybuddie hav tu ware onlee read or grean klothz? Whin Ruedoff's noez duzn't wurk, kin't u jest chaeng da buelb? Whut eez ur faevurate kiend of kuukie? Due u git tierd of draenkin all dat meelk?Whut's ur faevurate Chreestmiss karul? Whin iz ur burfdae? Whie due dey cael demsefz elves eef dey ar da siez of dwarves? Ar dere feat reely poentid like dose shuuz dat dey ware?"
" An moest of all, due u thaenk u culd com tu Meedle erth tu?"
He finally stops, out of air. 'Santa' blinks.
"What did you say your name was, son?" 'Santa' asks.
"Legolas. Prance Legolas Greenleaf, sier," answers the elf.
" I see," says 'Santa,' not really sure if he sees the whole picture or not.
Legolas has settled himself comfortably into the old man's lap, and has proceeded to wiggle down into the crook of his arm as if ready to stay until all of his questions are done. He sighs contentedly, takes his eyes off 'Santa's' face, and makes eye contact with me. His mouth turns up a little at the edges in his personal rendition of, 'well, I guess I'll get comfortable now, because this is going to take a while.' He shrugs his shoulders at me.
"I'm sorry, sir," I say, moving to the recliner to pull Legolas off the old man's lap. "He's not from around here, and all of this is quite new to him. He gets a little overexcited at times."
The old man smiles kindly up at me. "Now, now, my dear," he begins, "this little fellow has not bothered me a bit. In fact, he has some rather important questions that need answering. Let him stay a minute. I think he may have a little something he's wishing he could get off his chest."
Legolas nods, looking once again at 'Santa.' "I due hav sumpthaeng ealse I nead tu taelk tu u abot. Sumpthang. . . . priavite," he confides.
"Are you sure it's ok?" I ask, hesitant to turn Legolas loose on the unsuspecting grandfatherly fellow. He seems to be so relaxed now, as if having strangers hop onto his knee is something that happens every day. "Legolas doesn't mean to impose, do you dear?" I reply, jerking my head away from chair indicating to Legolas that he really should get off the man's lap, as in NOW.
"Relax, my dear. I won't bite him. I promise," says 'Santa.' He suddenly lets out a guffawing laugh, shaking from head to toe, all of his ample fat rolls jiggling around like a dish of black cherry Jell-O.
Legolas begins to giggle too, bouncing around in time with the laughter ringing forth from the old man. The picture they produce is priceless. Both almost as old as time itself, yet both so childlike and innocent.
"Really, honey," 'Santa' says to me," go get yourself a hotdog and an apple cider. It's the best in the world here. You can keep an eye on him from there, and that will give him a chance to tell me the secret he needs to share."
I nod and move a little reluctantly away from them, heading toward the refreshment table. After all, even though the old man is a stranger, there is something oddly familiar about him. He does look remarkably like someone who could play a mall Santa without adding any more than the red coat and pants and the black boots and belt.
I can hear their merry laughter as I squeeze out the mustard and put the chili on my hot dog. They get very quiet, and my protective mother instincts make me look to see that all is well, finding Legolas whispering furtively into the old man's ear, his long fingered hand cupping the space between Santa's ear and his own mouth so that no one can read his lips. Santa just nods.
After a few more moments, Legolas climbs down from the old man's knee, bows briefly, and shakes his hand. As he bounds over to me sitting there at the picnic table, Santa rises from his recliner and moves into the little office located behind his chair.
Legolas fixes himself a couple of the chilidogs, adding onions and relish with the mustard, chili, and ketchup. He's got so much stuff loaded on there it's a wonder he doesn't need a spoon to eat it with. As he works to maintain a modicum of decorum while eating the conglomeration, Santa reappears, carrying a red fur hat with white trim and a white ball on the end. He approaches the Prance, and jauntily sets the red cap on top of the long blonde tresses.
"Son, you really need a Santa hat. Someone might mistake you for one of those toymakers with those unique ears if you don't keep them covered and warm. Merry Christmas," he says, his eyes twinkling.
"Maerrie Chreestmiss tu u, tu!" Legolas answers, beaming.
As we pull out of the parking lot, Legolas rolls down the window, hollering, "Mearrie Chreestmiss, Saenta!" The old man laughs and waves back, his great belly wiggling and jiggling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We head back down the mountain, taking our time, Legolas still riding shotgun to combat the motion sickness from before. Yes Dear has explained to him that he needs to tell us if he feels ill, so that we can pull over and rest until the symptoms pass and thereby avoid the earlier embarrassment. So far, we've gone 15 minutes twisting and turning without any signs of a problem. This alternate road seems less steep and winding than the earlier one.
As we turn a particularly sharp bend, we come upon a small country town. It seems as if there has been some sort of major accident here, as there are at least a dozen police cars and fire trucks parked on the sides of the road. The policeman standing on the center yellow line of the highway motions for us to move on ahead, to follow the police car in front of us through the danger.
Peering out the side windows, we cannot find the source of the activity. There doesn't seem to be a car wreck, though there are people parked all over on both sides of the roadway, some sitting on the hoods of their cars or standing in the beds of their pickup trucks. As Yes Dear continues to drive forward, Legolas rolls down his window for a better view. Failing to get one, he finally unbuckles his seatbelt and perches on the window ledge, sitting with his legs inside on the seat and his upper body outside the van.
People begin to cheer and wave at him, so of course, he waves back, yelling, "Hae! Maerrie Chreestmiss!" Horns are honking, children are waving, people appear and plop themselves down in lawn chairs in the front yards as we crawl slowly by. Everyone is dressed in Christmas red and green, wearing Santa hats, and generally in an awfully good mood for witnessing a disaster.
"I hate to tell you this," says Yes Dear, "but Dorothy, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
"What do you mean?" I ask, having no idea at this point what is going on.
His reply is cut off by a loud squealing from outside the van on the passenger side. "LEGOLAS!! THAT'S LEGOLAS GREENLEAF!!!!" pierces our ears.
"WE LOVE YOU, LEGOLAS!!!!" comes the echoing cry from the driver's side.
"HAE! HAE! HAE EBERIBUDDIE!!!" shouts the Prance from his perch on the door. He is waving madly and blowing kisses.
"I think we're in the front of the local hometown parade," says Yes Dear. "You won't believe this, but there are about 6 trucks pulling all kinds of trailers decorated with Christmas things behind us. There's a fire truck, and all the other police cars lining up behind us too."
Shrill cries of "LEGOLAS!! LEGOLAS!!!" ring out along both sides of the street. The Prance continues to wave and send kisses to both sides of the van. He takes a quick second to lean in and tell Yes Dear, "Sloe doewn, I kin't sea eberybuddie oen boeth siedz whin we ar goen dis faest!" then he ducks his head back out through the window, resuming his waving.
"Wait, if we're in the front, then where is the Grand Marshall?" I ask Yes Dear.
"I think that's his posterior you're getting a view of," states Yes Dear, nodding his head at the Prance. "The people out here think Legolas is the Grand Marshall of this parade, and you know, I think he's doing a fairly good job with it!"
Little Pip is now down on the floorboard, hiding. "Momma," she whispers loudly so I can hear her above the cheering crowd, "this isn't really happening, is it?" She is mortified.
"Yep," I reply.
The caterwauling continues, with shrieks of "WE LOVE YOU, LEGOLAS!!!" and "OH MY GOD, IT REALLY IS HIM!!!!! " and "HI, LEGOLAS!!! YOU'RE TERRIFIC!!" boring in from both sides. As we reach the edge of town, Yes Dear becomes concerned at the number of teenage girls running along beside the van. One of them manages to reach out and grasp the sleeve of Legolas' sweatshirt, stretching it about 3 sizes larger before he manages to free himself.
"Noew, laedeez, leatz noet git kerried awae. . . " he starts, then hollering, "Oeewwww!" when one of the girls gets a handful of blonde hair. He loses a good size chunk that time. The fun and games are over. No one messes with the hair.
He leans back in the window. "Dere'z abot a hunnerd laedeez foelloing us," he pants, breathless. "U bedder steap on it!" He drops back into his seat, trying desperately to roll up his window and put on his seatbelt at the same time. Young women are running on both sides of the van now, hammering on the windows with their hands, trying to get in front of the van to make us stop.
Somehow, we miraculously reach the end of the parade route, and the police car in front of us sees what is happening. The officer turns quickly to the left, speeding up as he moves off the parade route and into the backstreets of this little town. He leads us at a quick pace to the edge of town, pulling off the side of the road and letting Yes Dear pull up beside him.
"Sorry!" he says. "Didn't know the crowd was gonna be so excited! I thought we could make it through before the actual parade started with the mayor's car right behind you. He won in a landslide over this really crooked guy, and the town is still all excited, even though it's been a good month since the election. They must have somehow mistaken your car for his!"
"No problem," says Yes Dear, though from the sweat on his brow you would wonder if it wasn't a little closer than he would have liked. He'd much rather watch the parade from the lawn chair than be in it, you see.
We move on down the road. "Legolas, are you ok?" I ask from the backseat. "You are awfully quiet."
"Whut haeppnd bak dere?" he asks, turning to face me with eyes wide. "Wear doze. . .. . faenguerlz??"
Oh yeah, baby. (c al)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the way home, I coerce Yes Dear into stopping at the theater to see if tickets are on sale yet for The Two Towers. I stand in line with the rest of the holiday moviegoers while the rest of my family ride around in the warm car circling the parking lot, waiting a good 30 minutes before I even get close to the counter. There are at least 6 ticket sales lines open, and the patrons are waiting close to 20 deep in the cold chill of the gusty wind outside the theater.
The woman behind me is quick to note that she has been standing in the cold for over 25 minutes, and that her movie of choice starts in 5 more minutes. She sets up a constant monologue about the weather, and her feet hurting, and the need for more sales lines, and how the movie she has been waiting to see will be sold out by the time she gets to the window. Her friend is wishing he could have invited someone else to the movies, I am sure. As we approach the ticket window, I get a mean sense of satisfaction in stating loudly which movie it is I have waited over half an hour to purchase tickets for.
"I'd like 3 tickets for the first showing of The Two Towers," I tell the saleswoman. The look on her face is priceless, but the gasp from behind me is even richer to my ears.
"We aren't showing The Two Towers," the ticket lady says, staring at me as if I have gone a little nuts. "It doesn't start for another couple of weeks."
"I know," I answer. "It starts in exactly 19 days. I want 3 tickets for the midnight show on the 17th/18th , if you are having one."
She has to go get the manager to show her how to get the information from the computer. The woman behind me is keeping me pleasantly warm breathing hotly down my neck.
No midnight show. I take 3 tickets to the noon show on Wednesday instead. One for me, one for Yes Dear, and one for Legolas. Little Pip will be at Grammar Laedee's house, as she does not want to see the movie until I have seen it so I can warn her about all the scary parts. I also take 2 tickets for the 8:00 pm show. Won't be needing 3 this time.
As I stroll back to the van, I see his face peering out at me from the front passenger window. It suddenly dawns on me exactly what the prize in my hand really means. Nothing comes without a price. Sometimes the price is more than we want to pay.
"Deed u git dem??" he shouts excitedly as I open the van door. He reaches out to grab them from me.
"Oeh Boey! I em goen hoem!!!"
I turn my face away from him in the darkness of the back seat, careful to hide the tears that trickle slowly down my face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: It is an integral part of the Return Theory that Legolas MUST be present at the FIRST Greenwood showing of The Two Towers. We were just now out Christmas shopping, and decided on a whim to pester the theater manager about having a midnight show. To my horror, I discovered the theater has been rented out to a private group for a midnight showing on the 17th/18th.
The manager was kind enough to understand our dilemma and to sell me three tickets. I don't want to think how close we came to missing it completely.
Now I have to deal with losing him 12 hours earlier than I had planned. We are now at less than 24 hours and counting down. . . .
And now:
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas
Grammar Laedee: Malebokz? I wuz plaenin oen goen all da wae tu da beeg roed tu da stoepsine. I lub shaempuu, braeng dat SUV tu me!
Laura: glaed u joyend us. U reed reely faest! I em reatuernin to Meedle erth in a maettr of hoerz noew, soe I weel noet bea hear fur Chreestmiss.
ElvenPickle: Thaenkz fur tipin tu me! I hav neber bean en a vaen tu da mowntaenz beafour, buet it wuz noet tu baed aftur I goet uzed tu it. Lubbabel AN adoerabel? *swuunz*
anna: Soe glaed u tiped tu me beafour I haed tu goe! I due lub choklit stueff!
Roselyn: I em vary flaexzable. *flaexzez tu souendz of squeelz * O.O Whie duz dat souend keap hapenin? I nead sum oiel. Keap reedin, u weel sea suun!
aranel_elf: al sez she haed noe ideea abot da fuenniee thangz u Brietz sae, buet she iz laernin faest an apresheatez da leasonz. Keap her straite fur me, okae?
leail: I have messed u! I em glaed u caem bak beafour I haed tu leeve. U kin reely git huert meassin wid doze naestie Oerkz, soe bea karfuel! An choklit bandanaz AR GUUD!
Phoenix Flight: Da trea iz beutaful an vary haeppie. Al puet a pikshur oen her bio paeg, deed u sea it? I wuz afraed u deed noet like me whin u furst rote tu me, buet I em tuched dat we hav beacom guud fraendz.
SilverStarlightAngel: U kin thaenk Nancing Elf dat we all cael her al. It taekz her fureber tu tipe her naem-eben immoralz like me git tierd waetin. Sorree, I hav a reapuutashun fur eetin all da choklit een site, soe dere iz noe moer. Thaenks fur tipin tu me beafour I leaft.
Lily Frost: I em soe sorree abot Willow. Dat iz da haerdist thang abot lievin wid moertalz. al keapz da ruum whur da trea iz muech koolr dan da raest of da hoesz. Plues it doez noet reely git tuu kold hear eniwae. Hoep u feal bedder suun!
Michelle: Hav u bean reedin "Elvish Lessons"? I deedn't noew al whuz gunna tipe doze leassonz up. Bea a guud gurl-Saenta iz wachen u!
Arilyn: Kar siek iz meassy an smaelie. I due noet plaen tu bea cought agin noet nowen whut iz haeppinin en my stumik. al sez she iz dun kliefhaengin.
Laure: U uzed ur haed? Oew!! U ar noet stoopid, jest aksident proen. Like dat guy wid da cuerly broewn hare whoe thaenkz he iz me. He haz pueppie eyez tu!
Angaloth: Allargik tu treaz? Dat iz jest noet fare! We deed hav a wunnerful tiem. Sumtiemz u jest hav tu bea kleer an aesk fur eggsacktly whut u waent.
Endomiel: U've bean reedin "In Da Haellz" bie TreaHueggr, havn't u?! Peenk soot wid wangz? *HHUuurrrmmmpphhh* Dat'll bea da dae! (Deed I maek da noeiz rite, Ada?)
Magical Rachel: al'z kar deedn't smael neer az baed az it deed dis suemmr whin she furgoet tu braeng een da meelk she bot at da grossery stoer-fur 3 daez! al sez ebery dae wid me iz like Chreestmiss!
Skye Rocket: I em glaed tu here u sae u lubd it woen laest tiem. Fudj duz rok, espaesially da Roky Roed kiend.
La Princess D'or: U jest taek a bandana, kuet it en haf wid ur leedle wite nife, puet a poepsikle steek en da end u kuet, an diep it entu maelted choklit. Den u fraez it. It IZ guud! Thaenkz fur taellin me abot ur neu naem! I like it!
Eileen: al sez she haz tu rite faest az we ar oen a deedlien. I thaenk frum luukin at her, she neadz a brake rite abot noew, beasiedz da won she haz een her fuut wich she deed noet rite abot, tho sum of u noe abot it.
Lady Silence: Thaenk u fur da Pez an fudj. Nekkid pikshurz of me? Goesh, whoe wuld bie doze?
isilwen: Dere ar meany foermz of deskrimanashun. It duz seam iroenik tu keel a trea fur a saeveeor'z burfdae saleabrashun whin he weel lader alsoe die tu saev maenkiend. I weel mees u . . . .
gershwin: I kin bea leen, and I kin bea meen, buet a lubbin masheen? Whoea! I lub choklit. al lubz it aelmoest az muech az me, she enharited it frum da Grammar Laedee I thaenk. I doen't noe wich kiend iz my faevurite.
ashlee: It iz noet fuen gittin siek. Noew I noe whie huemenz ar suech baybeez whin dey due noet feal guud.
SarWolf Snape: al sez thaenkz, she'z glaed u thaenk itz fuennie. Whin she sez dat, she haz a soert of saerkastik toen tu her voece. Deed u sea owr trea on al'z bio paeg?
Newmoon: I hoep u ar noet desapoyntid wid whut I deed dis tiem. I deed noet noe u culd taep daence! Woew!
JavaGlxy: Yeas, da trea iz vary haeppie, deed u sea it yaet? I hav bean weenin misef frum choklit soe I doent goe entu shoek or anithang whin I reeturn tu Meedle erth. I em soerrie I deed noet git tu ried en ur kar.
Kat: Yaes, da Creestmiss trea faerm wuz kwite an aedvanshur. I deed okae comin hoem en da kar, I jest thaenk I deed noet noe tu tael Yeas Deer I fealt fuennie. It hepz tu ried en da frunt, and tu goe sloe an noet luuk ouet da siedz of da vaen.
Loopy4_1: I em goen hoem en a feuw houerz noew. Mebbe al an Yeas Deer would laet u com neckz yeer. Lembaz ar guud, buet u due git tierd of dem. I'd raethr hav a choklit bandana. Doez treaz wear haeppie tu sea me!
Nancing Elf: *gruemblez * Elvez maekin toeyz. . . . doze ar dwarvez klaemin tu bea elvez. . .I kin't bealeeve doze hueminz liestned tu dem dwarvez wid dere taelz. . .. Mae I pet u won laest tiem? *paetz NE en my laep 10 loeng strokez frum her haed tu her tael *
IRENA: WHUR AR U??Mebbe it iz fur da beast dat we paert like dis. Im glerin al-tirai min le, Arwenamin. Im gelir le anirant im an buia-le. Amin harmva melavys e'cormamin, A'maelamin.
Puter Patty: (oohh, al, ritin dese ledderz ez gittin soe haerd . . . .I know, nin caun, but you are strong, come on) Yeas Deer shulda goet worrier braedz da dae he merried al feeftean yeerz agoe, tu heare heem tael it. al sez noe moer kliefhaengrz. Akoemplashed da leest?? Whoe saevd Gandalf oen Caradras? Whoe wear dey kaellin whin da Wacher en da Wader wuz aeftur us? Doze beeg braev smaellie men wear sayen "Legolas!!Legolas!!!" Whoe shoet da arow entu da Oerk dat wuz abot tu keel Araporn at Amon Hen?? Whoe keeld da caev troall? Hueh?? Hueh??? *groewlz * Da kweast iz duumed widout me. It weel bea vary haerd, buet I muest goe. I weel mees u vary muech. I steel thaenk I wuld hav enjoeyd havin my hare en coernroez. Thaenk u fur alwaez beein dere ebery chaeptr fur me. I hoep u weel kuntinue to dreem abot me. Uma, amin naa fauka vys, meleth-nin.
JastaElf: (*sliedz boenlesslee tu da floer AGIN * Come on baby, you can do this. . . .* al pulls Legolas back into the chair, patting his cheek * Uuhhh. . . I kin't! I kinnot sae guudbie tu her! Then don't, just talk to her and pretend it's ok, ok? Okae. . . .) Hae Jaesta! Hae Ada! (al, I kin't! I doen't theenk I kin due dis! Yes, you can, come on..) I em glaed Ada goet tu eet all doze wunderful soendin fuudz. Deed u saev me eni choklit moose? Doze moose ar beeg, wuzn't dat daengerus? An whur deed u hav tu tuch dat moose tu git it oen ur feenger, hueh Jaesta??? Keap dem bizy fur me Ada, okae? Im mel le!
TreeHugger: (al, I jest kin't! Yes, you can, come on, we'll do it together- just start by answering her question about the dentist. Ooeh, al, I dunnot thaenk I kin . . . Say hi to her, just start typing something easy. . . .Okae. . . .) Hae Trea! I keap my teef brueshd bedder hear dan een Meedle erth. I doent hav tiem tu git faet, I em moevin tu faest. U deed beet CowgirlKK12! She weel noet bea haeppie! Dere ar sum aedvaentagez tu gittin up earlee, like beain able tu rite stoereez and taelk tu ur fraendz oen da IM. Sae hae tu Natebuddie fur me, an tu CowgirlKK12 whoe haz a cruesh oen me, dat layzeeboenz! Thaenk u fur saendin doze pikshurz dat u dreaw of me tu al, she weel nead dem suun I feer. Suun she weel bea bak tu her faest beata'n sef.
Trea, taek kaer of al fur me, okae? Proemis? Amin mela vys. . . . . .