{"Westron"}
[Translation of Westron, Elvish, or Old English]
Chapter the 8th:
I was really very ill for the next few days. I was ill enough not to question how food might just appear. I lay on my back on the pile of branches, and blankets, staring up into the dark. My strange new reality was very cold, and empty. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know why or how I got there. The possibilities where too dreadful to consider for long, but the idea of murderous lunatics played a prominent part. Or maybe I went insane and fell into a manhole.
I began to nibble on a half eaten piece of bread. I wasn't very hungry, and it wasn't very good. . . I was pretty sure that I really had been in the a forrest with The Tourists, because there wasn't really a lot of other good reasons I would be so filthy. My clothes were so mucky, they had a certain stiff quality about them.
But if my being lost in the forrest was real, had . . . had that other part been real to? The part with those things talking at me. I remember it very clearly, and I remembered waking here . . . but I also knew I had been very sick. And because of that I knew that I might have - must have been so sick that I imagined things. That was why when I walked around my legs were all shaky. Because I had been very, very sick. So sick I had been hallucinating. It had begun with those big cobwebs, and had just been getting worse. It made sense really. I was probably laying on the forrest floor right now. It made sense . . .
Well really it didn't. Nothing in this horrible adventure made any sense at all. Being run over by a bicycle, waking up in forrest with a bunch of hippies, lost in the forrest, giant cobwebs and lectures from . . . well, whatever they were. I was trying so hard to understand it all, but it wasn't working.
"I don't like it here, God" I admitted, "I am scared." I began to cry, for it was very, very true. A light fell across my face. Illuminated in the light was an . . . angel?
"Nakh" [Come] he said. I stood up and ran out the door. I gladly followed beside the angel, not that I had much choice since he had a rather tight grip on my arm. The angel was talking to me, in long strings of nonsense, through passages and passages.
Finally we came to a really big open space. There were many many angel, and I stared I them, very, very happy. I glanced down at the floor, and my joy came to a grinding halt. I recognized the pattern on the floor. It was the one I had seen in my dream. Angels, of course! That made sense, because of course an angel wouldn't look human! I had had a dream about angels! A lecture from an angel . . . who I could not understand . . . or was it real. . . was this real?
I looked at the seated angel on the chair. . . size-wise more "throne". He was wearing a crown of green stuff, and had the staff just like in my dream . . . this wasn't making any sense.
["You stand accused of trespassing on my realm, and disrupting a social gathering. What were you doing there?"] He paused as if expecting some kind of reply. Long moments passed. The angel on the throne began to talk to a angel beside him in a different language. I wondered if they were mistaking me for someone else. . . someone who actually did speak that language. I tried to summoned up enough courage to give them a hint. I tried to say something, but it got stuck somewhere around my belly. I tried again. It came out as a unintelligible string of nonsense. They didn't understand at all. There was something very, very, wrong with this picture. Very wrong.
Just then very faintly I heard something that did indeed sound familiar. Or at least human. I spun around to see four dirty but alive Tourist being dragged along by angels. I was so happy to find out they were not dead that I tried to run after them, but one of the angels was hanging on to the back of my sweater. The angels dragged The Tourists infrount of the angel on the official seat. The sitee looked witheringly down at them. Lowan burst into tears.
["Why were you tr-"] Sala interrupted, chanting something at the top of his lungs accompanied by the sounds of Lowan crying. The sitee looked furious, and said something,
["Answer -"] But Benidictus and Ricyn only joined in. The sitee turned a livid pink, and shouted at them. The Tourists only chanted and yelled louder, and poor Lowan was letting out a mighty string of wails. The sitee looked terrifying. I began to cry too. The angels around began to whisper animatedly amongst themselves. The Tourist were yelling like their lives depended on it and Lowan was screaming and wailing, waving around his little knife, the tears making furrows on his muddy face. It was all too horrible. I covered my ears with my hands and cried harder.
Someone grabbed me and was dragging me along, be I did not had the sense to look where we might be going, since I was still hysterically screaming my head off. They dropped me down on something I knew instantly. I jumped back up instantly. . . they wouldn't . . . they couldn't. Angels are not supposed to do that. They wouldn't would they. That wasn't angel-like. I squeezed my eyes open. It was definitely the room, or cell, or whatever you wanted to call it. I did not want to go back to being in the cell, whatever an angel might think. I was frightened. And I was a little angry too. But what was I going to do about it? Tunnel out? Back to delusional hysterics.
...................................
The prisoners after a few days and a few meals seemed to have gained some sense . . . or not. After this exhibition the angels are starting to have a few doubts. Of course the elves are pretty mad because their prisoners were rather rude, but after they had thought it through a bit they came to the highly logical conclusion that none of the prisoners spoke any Westron, and the prisoners were all completely out of their minds and delusional and not particularly dangerous. Though less wise than some other elves, they are not mean, and so acquit them on the grounds of mental incompetence. The prisoners could possibly be sent to Laketown, along with some barrels, but in the mean time the elves will see what they can do for them.
The elves realize the girl dressed up as the guy doesn't even speak the same language as the others, though it is a little similar. Why she was running around in far off lands from her own dressed up presumably as a man is an interesting question, and after a great deal more (to much) thinking, they begin to suspect Anna was fleeing something (for love perhaps!) - just like in the really good songs . . .
..........................
I woke up on my familiar bed. I wondered if there had just dreamed that. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It did really seem like something I would have dreamt up. . . but on the other hand a brain working away in the dark . . .who knows. And besides the angels really didn't behave like angels. A shook my head, and decided it was a dream. I felt around in the dark for the bowl. I was actually pretty thirsty . . . actually I had a sore throat. . . weird. I couldn't find it. I sat back. All I could think about was how happy I'd been to see the angel had opened the door for me. But then it had gone all wrong. It had turned into a nightmare. I started to cry again, angry at myself for making it such a bad dream.
[Translation of Westron, Elvish, or Old English]
Chapter the 8th:
I was really very ill for the next few days. I was ill enough not to question how food might just appear. I lay on my back on the pile of branches, and blankets, staring up into the dark. My strange new reality was very cold, and empty. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know why or how I got there. The possibilities where too dreadful to consider for long, but the idea of murderous lunatics played a prominent part. Or maybe I went insane and fell into a manhole.
I began to nibble on a half eaten piece of bread. I wasn't very hungry, and it wasn't very good. . . I was pretty sure that I really had been in the a forrest with The Tourists, because there wasn't really a lot of other good reasons I would be so filthy. My clothes were so mucky, they had a certain stiff quality about them.
But if my being lost in the forrest was real, had . . . had that other part been real to? The part with those things talking at me. I remember it very clearly, and I remembered waking here . . . but I also knew I had been very sick. And because of that I knew that I might have - must have been so sick that I imagined things. That was why when I walked around my legs were all shaky. Because I had been very, very sick. So sick I had been hallucinating. It had begun with those big cobwebs, and had just been getting worse. It made sense really. I was probably laying on the forrest floor right now. It made sense . . .
Well really it didn't. Nothing in this horrible adventure made any sense at all. Being run over by a bicycle, waking up in forrest with a bunch of hippies, lost in the forrest, giant cobwebs and lectures from . . . well, whatever they were. I was trying so hard to understand it all, but it wasn't working.
"I don't like it here, God" I admitted, "I am scared." I began to cry, for it was very, very true. A light fell across my face. Illuminated in the light was an . . . angel?
"Nakh" [Come] he said. I stood up and ran out the door. I gladly followed beside the angel, not that I had much choice since he had a rather tight grip on my arm. The angel was talking to me, in long strings of nonsense, through passages and passages.
Finally we came to a really big open space. There were many many angel, and I stared I them, very, very happy. I glanced down at the floor, and my joy came to a grinding halt. I recognized the pattern on the floor. It was the one I had seen in my dream. Angels, of course! That made sense, because of course an angel wouldn't look human! I had had a dream about angels! A lecture from an angel . . . who I could not understand . . . or was it real. . . was this real?
I looked at the seated angel on the chair. . . size-wise more "throne". He was wearing a crown of green stuff, and had the staff just like in my dream . . . this wasn't making any sense.
["You stand accused of trespassing on my realm, and disrupting a social gathering. What were you doing there?"] He paused as if expecting some kind of reply. Long moments passed. The angel on the throne began to talk to a angel beside him in a different language. I wondered if they were mistaking me for someone else. . . someone who actually did speak that language. I tried to summoned up enough courage to give them a hint. I tried to say something, but it got stuck somewhere around my belly. I tried again. It came out as a unintelligible string of nonsense. They didn't understand at all. There was something very, very, wrong with this picture. Very wrong.
Just then very faintly I heard something that did indeed sound familiar. Or at least human. I spun around to see four dirty but alive Tourist being dragged along by angels. I was so happy to find out they were not dead that I tried to run after them, but one of the angels was hanging on to the back of my sweater. The angels dragged The Tourists infrount of the angel on the official seat. The sitee looked witheringly down at them. Lowan burst into tears.
["Why were you tr-"] Sala interrupted, chanting something at the top of his lungs accompanied by the sounds of Lowan crying. The sitee looked furious, and said something,
["Answer -"] But Benidictus and Ricyn only joined in. The sitee turned a livid pink, and shouted at them. The Tourists only chanted and yelled louder, and poor Lowan was letting out a mighty string of wails. The sitee looked terrifying. I began to cry too. The angels around began to whisper animatedly amongst themselves. The Tourist were yelling like their lives depended on it and Lowan was screaming and wailing, waving around his little knife, the tears making furrows on his muddy face. It was all too horrible. I covered my ears with my hands and cried harder.
Someone grabbed me and was dragging me along, be I did not had the sense to look where we might be going, since I was still hysterically screaming my head off. They dropped me down on something I knew instantly. I jumped back up instantly. . . they wouldn't . . . they couldn't. Angels are not supposed to do that. They wouldn't would they. That wasn't angel-like. I squeezed my eyes open. It was definitely the room, or cell, or whatever you wanted to call it. I did not want to go back to being in the cell, whatever an angel might think. I was frightened. And I was a little angry too. But what was I going to do about it? Tunnel out? Back to delusional hysterics.
...................................
The prisoners after a few days and a few meals seemed to have gained some sense . . . or not. After this exhibition the angels are starting to have a few doubts. Of course the elves are pretty mad because their prisoners were rather rude, but after they had thought it through a bit they came to the highly logical conclusion that none of the prisoners spoke any Westron, and the prisoners were all completely out of their minds and delusional and not particularly dangerous. Though less wise than some other elves, they are not mean, and so acquit them on the grounds of mental incompetence. The prisoners could possibly be sent to Laketown, along with some barrels, but in the mean time the elves will see what they can do for them.
The elves realize the girl dressed up as the guy doesn't even speak the same language as the others, though it is a little similar. Why she was running around in far off lands from her own dressed up presumably as a man is an interesting question, and after a great deal more (to much) thinking, they begin to suspect Anna was fleeing something (for love perhaps!) - just like in the really good songs . . .
..........................
I woke up on my familiar bed. I wondered if there had just dreamed that. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It did really seem like something I would have dreamt up. . . but on the other hand a brain working away in the dark . . .who knows. And besides the angels really didn't behave like angels. A shook my head, and decided it was a dream. I felt around in the dark for the bowl. I was actually pretty thirsty . . . actually I had a sore throat. . . weird. I couldn't find it. I sat back. All I could think about was how happy I'd been to see the angel had opened the door for me. But then it had gone all wrong. It had turned into a nightmare. I started to cry again, angry at myself for making it such a bad dream.
