Disclaimer: Right there in Chapter One.
As I've said before somewhere or the other, I'm just a bumbling author who really has no clue what she's trying to do with this modest story. In spite of that, I've received so much positive feedback that it's almost overwhelming. I'd just like you all to know that every word of every review is appreciated.
Blue Jedi Hobbit 009: Thank you for your continued support. Speaking from one author to another, I'm sure you know what it means to me. And yes, the humor is liberal, if a bit dead-pan, isn't it?
Kaori Lothelen: I'm happy to hear the change is welcome. I thought things needed a bit of a twist, and concluded that if I wanted to see it right, I'd have to do it myself. Thank you for reviewing.
Camellia Gamgee-Took: In all the languages of the world, how many ways are there to say "Thank you?" However many there are, I shout them all to you on bended knee. I haven't seen my style of writing anywhere, which I suppose would make it a bit of a rarity, wouldn't it? No, I don't take that statement as an insult. Quite the contrary, actually. And I do agree with you about many writers of this type of story. To be fair, there are some gems among the junk, but there's quite a lot of sifting to do to find them. Personally, I'm amazed that more people don't bother to use spell checkers or the edit features that offers, like being able to proof-read your story before you post it, and then being able to replace chapters with new content. (If anyone wishes to know how to do the latter, email me and I'll send you step-by-step instructions.) And thank you for your other praise. Believe me, none of it goes unappreciated.
Elven Cherry Blossom: I'm glad you like Fiona. I was almost a bit worried that no one would like her. Which would not be good, because people really couldn't care less about a character that they hate. Thanks for the review.
Legato-Naraku-LOTR-Matrix: I thought I'd make Fiona on the chunky side, because I've seen so many of these that have the "Not-too-thin-but-Lord-not-fat" descriptions, which are usually a sort of prequel to silky-smooth hair, eyes that shine like diamonds, etc, etc . Keep up the good work on Lonely Thoughts of Life. I'm enjoying it very much.
Before we go on, I would like to give my "mission statement," so to speak, of what I would like to do with this story:
How many biographies have been written about, say ... Shakespeare? Let's go with a random estimate of 3,000. Now, the 3001st biography will still be on this man named William Shakespeare, and will presumably follow a fairly standard format. However, this biography might be completely distinguishable from all the other ones, in that it offers a different perspective of the man William Shakespeare. My hope is for this humble fanfiction to be the "3001st biography of Shakespeare."
Did I lose anyone? I'm sorry if I did. Just read it thoughtfully a few times and then see what happens.
There's a repeat of the first verse of "Piano Man" in this chapter, as well as the first verse of: Song: Shadow Stabbing Artist: Cake Album: Comfort Eagle
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Chapter Three
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Airegolloin had a look of complete bewilderment on his face, like I had said with the fullest of conviction that the grass was indeed blue and that the sky was green. He turned his back and then started rapidly speaking to his companions in whatever their language was, most likely narrating the highlights of our little chat. Comfortable that I was not going to be stuck full of arrows in the immediate future, I took the time to examine these esoteric people closely. I started with Airegolloin, as that seemed fairly logical. He was wearing light tan boots that looked like they were made of animal hide. They had a definite home-made look to them - he surely didn't buy them at Wal-mart. Moving on up, I saw that he was wearing mossy green leggings that looked like long spandex that were one size bigger than Airegolloin needed. Now, things got interesting above the waist.
He was wearing a light but durable dirty white shirt, with a dark brown over-shirt that went to his elbows. The whole wardrobe looked completely homemade, although I wasn't about to go digging through his shirt to find a tag. Of course, if I thought this was fun, what I saw above the neck was a real treat. Airegolloin had long auburn colored hair, which had various sized braids running through it. (It was a little disconcerting to find a guy with prettier hair than I could ever hope to have.) He must have felt my eyes boring holes into his head, because he turned and gave me a questioning look. This enabled me to get a look at his face, which convinced me that he must be running away from the tyranny of the male model industry. His complexion was completely perfect, the kind of perfect that no human being should be able to gain, even with the aid of cosmetic surgery and whatnot.
There were no moles, freckles, blackheads, whiteheads, pimples, etc . The mouth and nose were shaped perfectly, no visible flaws whatsoever. The eyebrows were arched perfectly, with no stray hairs, and the eyelashes were all long and delicate. The whites of Airegolloin's eyes were clear, and both iris were a blazing, electric green.
Man, this guy has got to think that he's God's gift to women…
I smiled and shook my head. Airegolloin stared at me for another moment in an odd sort of way, and then turned back to his little conversation. I stood politely, although I was getting bored quick. Maybe if I gave them a dose of my grating voice, they'd get the message?
"Adjectives on the typewriter
He moves his words
Like a prize fighter
The frenzied pace of
The mind inside the cell"
Airegolloin apparently got the message. He said something to his companions that had harsh intent to it, but I don't think that anything said in such a beautiful language could really sound all that harsh. He then addressed me.
"Come, Lady Fiona," I was getting annoyed with the "Lady" prefix, but figured I'd humor him. "We will guide you to Rivendell." I knew that that was my cue to inject some witty gem of sarcasm, but it's hard for the effect to come across completely when wearing banana yellow Dr. Seuss pajama pants. So on we went. This crowd was obviously fit, as well as not tripping over every other tree root. Unlucky for me, I wasn't one of them. After awhile, Airegolloin caught on to the fact that the poor suburbanite was stumbling, so he fell back to walk with me, even at the snail-like pace it must have been for him. I had to give it to him, at least he didn't make a big fuss about it. I'd always hated being a charity case.
"Not used to walking, Lady Fiona?"
"Are you mocking me?"
"Not in the least." He said earnestly.
"That's good." We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I'd never really learned the art of how to keep the small talk going.
"If I may be so bold as to ask…"
"Shoot." Apparently that request had drawn a blank.
"Go ahead." I corrected.
"What was that you were singing?"
"Just a song."
"But what song?"
"Not one you would know." I had to keep myself in check and not snap at the poor guy. It wasn't an easy task.
"Just tell me. I might."
"Nope. Durr...no."
"Please?" I Figured that it might shut him up if I answered.
" 'Shadow Stabbing.' " I had drawn the blank look I was expecting.
"And might I inquire the origins of such a song?"
"Band called Cake. I told you that you wouldn't know it."
"And what of the earlier song?" I blinked slowly.
"Earlier song…?"
"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Makin' love to his tonic and gin"
Airegolloin sang. Of course a beautiful person would have a beautiful singing voice. But such a beautiful voice didn't fit the pain-dulled voice of Billy Joel.
"So, how long were you stalking me?" I said, a slight bit pissed. I shouldn't have expected anything less, but the idea of people with sharp pointy things stalking me around the woods in a place that only the powers-that-be could name wasn't comforting.
"Since we first heard you. We thought you might be a hurt animal."
Should I be insulted? I think that might be the most vague insult since Jack White's sneer of "Now we're a family!" on Elephant…
"And after I heard your singing, I knew it was someone who shouldn't be here." He sounded almost arrogant.
"You know, I think I knew that I shouldn't be here either. What a coincidence." I replied, with just the right amount of sarcasm. He looked taken aback.
"I'm sorry?" He said, as if he wasn't quite sure he should be apologizing. I just gave him a bland look of the "whatever are you saying that for?"
"It's nothing." I said, reinforcing that there might indeed be something he needed to apologize for. "Tell me, what do you foresee my immediate future containing? I hope it includes a hairbrush and a bath."
"I should think Lord Elrond would be gracious enough to grant those requests, Lady."
"Good. Tell me, who is this man?"
"Man? Lord Elrond is no mere man."
"Then a woman…? Then why do you refer to this woman as Lord Elrond?"
"Lady, with all due respect, no woman could ever command the power Lord Elrond possesses." Is this an appropriate time for a "sexist pig" comment? Or would these guys' egos be so offended that they would make me a pincushion? Hmm…better not risk it.
"But---"
"Lord Elrond is an elf." I simply stared at Airegolloin, struck dumb. Aren't Elves supposed to be little fairy-like things with wings and pointy ears?
"An elf…" I repeated dumbly.
"An elf." He confirmed. One person can only believe so much. I can believe that these people really dig their Renaissance Faire. I can believe that Rivendell might be a perfectly acceptable name for a place in the middle of nowhere. But…Elves?
"Right." I said, doubtingly. Airegolloin laughed. I couldn't exactly tell, but it seemed like it might have contained some amusement at my confusion. Did this guy really need to give me much more cause to be annoyed?
"If you do not believe for yourself, than see my ears." He peeled the hair back to show his ears. They were fairly normal, all delicacy aside, for the most part. But where most ears would round off, his kept going until they ended in a tip. These were some top quality fake ears. So, seeing as how he had made the opening move, I poked the tip. Finding it to be as real and as solid as the flesh of my own ears, I continued over the ear, prodding for a seam or a line or any irregularity that would give away its plastic origins. After minutes of this prodding, I found absolutely nothing. "Are you satisfied, Lady?" Airegolloin asked He didn't seem perturbed in the least that my fingers had basically just gone digging through one of his ears.
"I suppose I am." I noted the slight bit of doubt and confusion and almost panic that my voice held. It was an accurate portrayal of how I felt. I still held on to the fact that I was probably in backwoods country with a bunch of Renaissance enthusiasts, but a thread of doubt was beginning to weave its way in.
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As far as plot goes, I'm fairly convinced that this was not the most exciting of chapters. However, this was a chapter of exposition/characterization/description/etc . While those things are never all that fun to write and certainly not to read, they must be done. Now, Airegolloin. I'm sure my description of him must have been better than any prescription sleep aid, but I figured that it was a way of both conveying Fiona's sense of bewilderment and setting him apart from the other elves. The chapters in this story are by ear, but I have a sense that he'll be important later. I'm sure some of you might be wondering what in the world possessed me to give an elf red hair. For one, I figured that it would be a good idea to have someone half-familiar Fiona could easily spot among a group of unfamiliar people. Secondly, on a more general basis, if you take a look at Arwen, you'll notice that she doesn't look much like other elves. So thus, there should be some aesthetic diversity among elves, or so one would think.
Questions? Comments? Philosophical ramblings?