Just to tell you, this story has no particular plot. It's kind of
addressing the problems of modern society, plus it's fun just to try and
imagine Legolas in the city.
Chapter 4
Soon, they were in the heart of St. Louis, which was bustling with pedestrians and bristling with shops. Milo's car was at a stoplight, and he leaned over the steering wheel to look out the windshield. Good. No dive- bombing birds. He shuddered at the mere thought of those demons of the sky. Sitting back, he said, "Let's find you a hotel." "A what?" "Inn." "Oh. I do not sleep in inns." "Then what do you sleep in?" "Trees." "Well, tough. You're sleeping in a hotel tonight." Hanging a right, they drove a little ways until they came to a Durry Inn. Beneath the actual hotel was a 3-teir, brightly-lit car park. Milo pulled in, driving to the uppermost level. An old lady was pulling out in front of him, and he slumped agitatedly in his seat. 'This is going to take an age,' he thought. The old lady pulled back in, then pulled back out, trying to realign her vehicle. Milo jumped up in his seat, pounding the horn madly. "Come on, you old bity! There are other people who have a life!" The old lady stiffened and grabbed at her heart as the horn sounded sharply. Milo saw her and groaned. "Jesus Christ, what next?" He sat there for a minute. "Well, I guess we'll just have to park on the street." After Milo had parked and they were taking the steps up the main lobby, Legolas with his spiffy backpack over his shoulder and Old Navy bag in hand, the professor was giving him a few instructions. "Now, don't say a word, alright?" Legolas said nothing. "Why aren't you saying 'alright'." Legolas remained silent. Milo rolled his eyes. "I meant when we get up there." "Oh." "Anyway, I'm going to pretend you're my German business partner and you don't speak any English, so I'm getting you a room. Got it?" "I believe so, but I have two questions." "What?" "What is German and what is English?" "I'll explain once you get a room." Milo and Legolas arrived in the lobby and approached the desk. Milo rang the little bell on the counter, and the receptionist turned around. "How may I help you?" "I'd like a room." The receptionist looked at them both strangely. "For both of you?" "Oh, no. Just for him. This is my German business partner, Hans-uh- Gumerscheimersteinfritz. He doesn't speak any English." "Oh. I see." Milo bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "So, have you got any rooms free?" The receptionist typed something into the computer. "Yes, we do. Is a one- person twin alright?" "Yes, yes, very good. Don't worry about it, Hans, I'll pay for it." "How will you be paying?" "Credit, credit," Milo said. "I'm not entirely sure how long he'll be staying. These business deals can be very tricky." "Alright, sir." She handed Milo a key. "That's on the top floor." Milo nodded politely to her and bade Legolas follow him towards the elevator. As they went up, they picked up a group of giggly, intoxicated college girls. One was eyeing Legolas as one who has been starved for countless days, and it was making him rather uncomfortable. He would edge away, and she would edge closer. Finally when the reached the top floor, he said nervously, "This, uh, this is my floor." "Oh-hiccup-my G-God!" the girl spluttered. "This is, like, our floor too." Legolas stepped off the elevator with Milo, taking the key from him and starting to walk quickly. The hoard of girls followed at the same pace. "Leg-er-Hans, what are you doing?" Legolas glanced down nervously at the key to read the number, quickening his fast walk into a jog. The girls followed suit. His eyes flitted nervously to each door and back to they key. 'Where's the door?' he thought anxiously. He looked back. They were catching up. "Hans!" Legolas's lope quickened to a full out run, and he saw the end of the hall coming up fast. Finally, he saw his door, and he threw himself against it. It didn't open. He jiggled the handle. Locked. Sweat began to pour down his face. The girls were gaining on him. Milo suddenly realized his charge's peril, and he sprinted down the hall, knocking the women out of the way. "Quick!" he shouted. "Out of the way!" Milo thrust the key into the slot in the door and wrenched the door open, pulling Legolas inside just as the girls reached them. Legolas and Milo leaned against the door, panting heavily as fists banged on it. "That," Milo breathed, "was close." Legolas nodded. Walking over to the window, Milo opened the curtain, looking out over the city. Dusk was casting its red light over the buildings, staining them red. "Nice view," he said. Legolas walked over to take in the view as well. "It reminds me of Gondor." "This isn't going to turn into one of those gushy oh-I-miss-my-home-so-much- I-wish-I-could-go-back sort of things, is it?" "Uh, I guess not..." "Good." Milo had his hands clasped behind his back. He turned to Legolas thoughtfully. "You know, whenever you want to go back, just tell me, and I'll find a tree for you to fall out of." "Alright." Milo flipped on the television, making Legolas start. "New devilry!" he screamed. "It's just a television." "No, it's new devilry!" "Fine. Want to see how it works?" "What manner of wizard are you that can conjure moving images in a box?" "Everyone can do this. Just apply some technology and you've got a television." Milo went to turn on the lamps in the room. "What manner of magic is this? A lamp lit with no oil?" "It's electric." This instantly made Milo get the Electric Slide stuck in his head. How he hated that song. "You just flip this switch, (he demonstrated by flicking it off and back on) and you've got light." "Fascinating." "Not really." "Well, to some of us, it might be." "I suppose it might, if you were really simple. You'll probably need your clothes labeled. You can barely figure out what boxers are." Milo began to take things out of the Old Navy bag. Taking a tab of Post-It Notes© out of his pocket and a pen from the nightstand, he began to write "pants", "shirts", "shoes", "socks", and "boxers" on the yellow papers. Separating the clothes into piles, he labeled them with the Post-It Notes©. "Now," he said, "you wear boxers under your pants, got it? And black does not go with navy, orange shouldn't be worn with red, and white goes with everything. Are we clear?" "Yes." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Positive?" "Yes." "Crystal clear?" "Yes." "Good. Tomorrow, I have to take you to church. I'll pick you up at eight."
Chapter 4
Soon, they were in the heart of St. Louis, which was bustling with pedestrians and bristling with shops. Milo's car was at a stoplight, and he leaned over the steering wheel to look out the windshield. Good. No dive- bombing birds. He shuddered at the mere thought of those demons of the sky. Sitting back, he said, "Let's find you a hotel." "A what?" "Inn." "Oh. I do not sleep in inns." "Then what do you sleep in?" "Trees." "Well, tough. You're sleeping in a hotel tonight." Hanging a right, they drove a little ways until they came to a Durry Inn. Beneath the actual hotel was a 3-teir, brightly-lit car park. Milo pulled in, driving to the uppermost level. An old lady was pulling out in front of him, and he slumped agitatedly in his seat. 'This is going to take an age,' he thought. The old lady pulled back in, then pulled back out, trying to realign her vehicle. Milo jumped up in his seat, pounding the horn madly. "Come on, you old bity! There are other people who have a life!" The old lady stiffened and grabbed at her heart as the horn sounded sharply. Milo saw her and groaned. "Jesus Christ, what next?" He sat there for a minute. "Well, I guess we'll just have to park on the street." After Milo had parked and they were taking the steps up the main lobby, Legolas with his spiffy backpack over his shoulder and Old Navy bag in hand, the professor was giving him a few instructions. "Now, don't say a word, alright?" Legolas said nothing. "Why aren't you saying 'alright'." Legolas remained silent. Milo rolled his eyes. "I meant when we get up there." "Oh." "Anyway, I'm going to pretend you're my German business partner and you don't speak any English, so I'm getting you a room. Got it?" "I believe so, but I have two questions." "What?" "What is German and what is English?" "I'll explain once you get a room." Milo and Legolas arrived in the lobby and approached the desk. Milo rang the little bell on the counter, and the receptionist turned around. "How may I help you?" "I'd like a room." The receptionist looked at them both strangely. "For both of you?" "Oh, no. Just for him. This is my German business partner, Hans-uh- Gumerscheimersteinfritz. He doesn't speak any English." "Oh. I see." Milo bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "So, have you got any rooms free?" The receptionist typed something into the computer. "Yes, we do. Is a one- person twin alright?" "Yes, yes, very good. Don't worry about it, Hans, I'll pay for it." "How will you be paying?" "Credit, credit," Milo said. "I'm not entirely sure how long he'll be staying. These business deals can be very tricky." "Alright, sir." She handed Milo a key. "That's on the top floor." Milo nodded politely to her and bade Legolas follow him towards the elevator. As they went up, they picked up a group of giggly, intoxicated college girls. One was eyeing Legolas as one who has been starved for countless days, and it was making him rather uncomfortable. He would edge away, and she would edge closer. Finally when the reached the top floor, he said nervously, "This, uh, this is my floor." "Oh-hiccup-my G-God!" the girl spluttered. "This is, like, our floor too." Legolas stepped off the elevator with Milo, taking the key from him and starting to walk quickly. The hoard of girls followed at the same pace. "Leg-er-Hans, what are you doing?" Legolas glanced down nervously at the key to read the number, quickening his fast walk into a jog. The girls followed suit. His eyes flitted nervously to each door and back to they key. 'Where's the door?' he thought anxiously. He looked back. They were catching up. "Hans!" Legolas's lope quickened to a full out run, and he saw the end of the hall coming up fast. Finally, he saw his door, and he threw himself against it. It didn't open. He jiggled the handle. Locked. Sweat began to pour down his face. The girls were gaining on him. Milo suddenly realized his charge's peril, and he sprinted down the hall, knocking the women out of the way. "Quick!" he shouted. "Out of the way!" Milo thrust the key into the slot in the door and wrenched the door open, pulling Legolas inside just as the girls reached them. Legolas and Milo leaned against the door, panting heavily as fists banged on it. "That," Milo breathed, "was close." Legolas nodded. Walking over to the window, Milo opened the curtain, looking out over the city. Dusk was casting its red light over the buildings, staining them red. "Nice view," he said. Legolas walked over to take in the view as well. "It reminds me of Gondor." "This isn't going to turn into one of those gushy oh-I-miss-my-home-so-much- I-wish-I-could-go-back sort of things, is it?" "Uh, I guess not..." "Good." Milo had his hands clasped behind his back. He turned to Legolas thoughtfully. "You know, whenever you want to go back, just tell me, and I'll find a tree for you to fall out of." "Alright." Milo flipped on the television, making Legolas start. "New devilry!" he screamed. "It's just a television." "No, it's new devilry!" "Fine. Want to see how it works?" "What manner of wizard are you that can conjure moving images in a box?" "Everyone can do this. Just apply some technology and you've got a television." Milo went to turn on the lamps in the room. "What manner of magic is this? A lamp lit with no oil?" "It's electric." This instantly made Milo get the Electric Slide stuck in his head. How he hated that song. "You just flip this switch, (he demonstrated by flicking it off and back on) and you've got light." "Fascinating." "Not really." "Well, to some of us, it might be." "I suppose it might, if you were really simple. You'll probably need your clothes labeled. You can barely figure out what boxers are." Milo began to take things out of the Old Navy bag. Taking a tab of Post-It Notes© out of his pocket and a pen from the nightstand, he began to write "pants", "shirts", "shoes", "socks", and "boxers" on the yellow papers. Separating the clothes into piles, he labeled them with the Post-It Notes©. "Now," he said, "you wear boxers under your pants, got it? And black does not go with navy, orange shouldn't be worn with red, and white goes with everything. Are we clear?" "Yes." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Positive?" "Yes." "Crystal clear?" "Yes." "Good. Tomorrow, I have to take you to church. I'll pick you up at eight."