Let me start off by saying that, yes, I do realize that this update has been a long time coming. However, I'm not going to make any excuses, as that is just a waste of words. And now, on to better things.

All these gracious reviews are starting to make me think I can actually write. I would like to thank you all once again. I thought that I would be lucky to receive three reviews. So to see that I have fourteen on the first three chapters of what I hope will become many chapters really makes me feel wonderful.

Anitsyrhk: Yes, I've gotten frustrated at the Deus Ex Machina solution that Middle-Earth seems to be for many of these girls. To me, it seems that Middle-Earth would be simply "a whole new place with a whole new set of problems." I'm sure that there are probably many improvements to be made, but thank you all the same.

Emerald Griffin: Here's to a (hopefully) long and fruitful partnership!

Willow Myst: It's always amazed me the wonderful way Billy Joel has been able to convey pain simply by his voice alone. And I hope you'll find this story very different from the others.

Gralin Lightningsinger: I think it's universal with all Catholic schools, really. I'm glad I can convey my view on that well. I think Fiona's cynicism is what makes her so down-to-earth. From what I know of how the story is going to proceed, Fiona doesn't seem to lose that. Thank you for your glowing review, by the way.

Diablita: Is there ever really a good time for a pun? From what people have told me, they seem to find Fiona very down-to-earth and even fairly likable. Which is a real blessing to me, because nobody will read a story with a main character they can't stand. I find your "refreshingly bitter" comment very

interesting, as people tend not to combine that words. (I don't mean to insult with that, even though it sounds borderline-insulting for some reason I can't quite put my finger on.) I've always thought that if you can't laugh at yourself, what can you laugh at?

Donnamira: Thank you very much.

Prophetic Fire: Thanks for reading, I always appreciate it. I'm not sure I said something like that, but I'm scanning the previous chapters for it and if and when I find it I'll correct it. Thank you though - it always helps to have people on the look out for things like that, that are so easy to miss and yet can really make things messy. About Airegolloin...I confess, I cheated. I type in a name on the name generator and used what came up. I'm completely clueless as to what it may actually mean or if the name even fits his personality. Thank you for the complement of my writing style. I really do try to accomplish

that happy medium in my writing style. I really like your story - it's doing something new and different, which is always nice.

Once again, I would like to thank you all for your support.

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Before I am finished with my housekeeping duties, a debt must be repaid. Emerald Griffin has ever so kindly promoted my story, above and beyond anything I would have expected. Her story Bardic Solitaire runs along a similar line to this one, and should be enjoyed by anyone who enjoys this one. It can be linked via her review, or, more ?storyid=1622462&chapter=1

(Be sure to replace the signs with the backslash marks you usually find on a link. You know seems to have this problem with links and thus strips them.)

Bardic Solitaire summary: A modern Druidess is perfectly happy where she is, playing at medieval faires with her loving friends, taking her harp and her voice across her state. When she skips across the world barrier on the way home from playing at a faire, she is forced to rely on her wits and her music to keep her alive, while she falls into a downward spiral of loneliness and despair. This is the story of the Warrior Bard Aoife, who grieved ceaselessly for what was forever lost to her.

Excerpt: "The bedraggled bard had begun to sneeze when she finally gave up and decided to try to find some place where she could be partially protected. Of course, as soon as she stopped and began to inspect her immediate surrounding as closely as she could when she had rain dripping off of her eyelashes and directly onto her eyeballs, she found said eyeballs to be perilously close to being skewered. Needless to say, she stopped moving her head. And, perhaps, it is also rather obvious that that was the exact moment when she lost her tenuous mental calm. She backed up a little, when she felt something prodding her neck area through her soaked hood. She glanced around again, slowly, seeing only a group of hooded figures

carrying bows.

'Crap.' Was all she said.

She attempted to shuffle forward, and was stopped. She attempted to shuffle backwards again, and was stopped there too. The same happened when she attempted to shuffle to either side. Finally, exasperated at he completely illogical situation, she sat down in what seemed like three inches of freezing cold mud."

(The stuff in quotation marks is obviously not mine, by the way.)

It's really a fantastic read. I promise I'm getting there. There is a mention of Alan Alda in this chapter. For those of you who don't know, he is Hawkeye on the MASH TV series. And as for Rivendell, it's pretty much movie based.

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Chapter Four

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Neither the "elf" or I were able to get a conversation started, and we thus continued our hike in silence, which gave me some time to sort out all the thoughts bouncing through my mind.

Middle-Earth... It's a name I know I should know, but couldn't tell you for the life of me why. Like Alan Alda. Whom I still have yet to Goggle.

After quite a while of hiking, during which I was beginning to wonder if we were just being lead around in circles, we finally came to our destination. It was the perfect blend of form and function, a graceful hacienda-like place with one main building and other buildings that were built, not over nature, but around and even in cooperation with it. It was an environmentalist Mecca that seemed to be a perfectly pleasant place to live...for about a week.

"So where do you Renaissance types get the money to have a place like that?" I asked Airegolloin, amazed, "It must have taken quite a chunk of change to build!"

"I'll take that as your own mad way of giving a complement." I decided to ignore the mad part - I'd been called worse than that by myself.

"And where are we, again?" I asked casually, hoping to lure him into telling me without thinking that we were in Virginia or someplace like that. "

Rivendell, Lady Fiona. You might also know it as Imladris or the Last Homely House." No dice. But this "Lady" stuff was going to drive me up the Last Homely walls if he kept it up.

"Look, I appreciate the Renaissance courtesy you're extending to me, but it's grating on my nerves like sandpaper, so drop it. This is the twenty-first century, after all. It's perfectly acceptable to call people by first name alone."

"Fiona," he said, test driving using only my first name. (It looked like he was trying to speak with his mouth full of cotton balls) "what system of reckoning do you use?"

"Come again?"

"How do you figure that we're in the twenty-first century?"

"Er..." I said, "It's the year 2004 Anno-Domine, right?"

"I'm afraid you are mistaken."

"Beg pardon?"

"It's the year 3014 of the Third Age."

"That doesn't mean beans to me." By this time we were standing right outside the main building, and Airegolloin was able to wiggle his way out of talking to me by calling over another elf.

"This is Manquarewen, a maidservant. She'll be more than happy to take care of your needs." I eyed Manquarewen. She had loose long blonde hair, brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, and flawless porcelain skin. She was wearing a simple blue shift that you could just as easily wear to a party as dust down a room in. "Manquarewen, this is Fiona." Airegolloin still looked a little awkward not adding some sort of prefix to my name. I was trying to think of a prefix that might make him feel a little less awkward, but couldn't think of anything that would work. "Fiona, this is Manquarewen." I nodded to Manquarewen politely. She gave me an encouraging smile and took my hand and started leading me away. Thankfully, no one saw us on our trek. I was already embarrassed enough to be walking around this elegant place in Dr. Seuss pajamas with morning breath and messy hair.

We came to our destination, which was found in one of the buildings surrounding Rivendell. It was a room that resembled a bedroom you might find in a motel. It had a full sized bed, a chest of drawers with a mirror hanging over them, a folding screen in one corner (to dress behind, I assumed) and an open balcony overlooking quite a bit of Rivendell.

"This will be your room for however long you may stay here, Lady Fiona." I appreciated how courteous she was being, but having everyone in this place call me "Lady" was getting old. "Please, just call me Fiona."

"Are you sure of that? It is not very courteous."

"You won't offend me." "

But I might seem impolite to others." Ah. So that was it. This time I managed to think of something that would make both of us feel a bit more comfortable.

"Why don't you call me ma'am?"

"Very well then, Ma'am Fiona." I settled for that.

"Is there anything you need?" I hated to ask, but there were quite a few things I needed.

"Uhm…Could you possibly get me a hairbrush and something to tie my hair back with, and a toothbrush and toothpaste? And would you be able to find any clothing to fit me? And where can I get a bath around here?"

"I will do my best to find the items you want. I think I may be able to find clothing to fit you. And as for the bath, you have two options. I could draw you a private bath or you could use the public baths." Public. Baths. Two words that should never go together.

"I would appreciate it greatly if you could draw me a private bath. And thank you very much for your help." Manquarewen nodded to me politely and left. I sat down on the bed (which turned out to be quite comfortable) and tried to work my way through the mess I'd gotten myself into.

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