[Note to Blablover5: yes, I guess the 'charm' bit that Gandalf was talking
about WAS a bit of Harry Potter emerging. Thanks for noticing. I don't
think it is a very middle earthy term, but I can't change it now anyway.
I'll try and be more careful in future.]
Part 3
Susie rapped hard on the oaken door of number 66, St. Matthews Street. She was soaked and her clothes were tatty from running. The rain had stopped now but it hadn't done much good.
"Gran'mamma!" she called urgently. This was her last chance. After running away from the school grounds, Susie had got home, but her mother was out. She had no phone and no money. She felt vulnerable, as if in another world, and she had cursed herself for her weakness. If it hadn't been for that bitch Ginny, she WOULD be in another world, as she was supposed to be. It was decreed in her destiny. So she was sour.
"Grandmamma!" she yelled again.
The door opened to reveal an aged lady, smiling sweetly down her granddaughter. She was wearing what seemed to be entirely composed of black and silver gauzy shawls and a black lace cap on her sleek hair. She must have been quite old, but her spinal cord was still upright, and her wavy long golden blonde hair showed no sign of greying.
She appeared proud, like a queen, and wore no jewellery except for a silver neckband around her throat. Susie's grandmother would not have been out of place in a fairytale, or even a L'Oreal advert. Her skin would put wrinkle cream and foundation companies out of business. From long distance, she LOOKED about thirty-five.
"LaRose! It's such a surprise!" she cried happily upon seeing her little girl, and then, clutching her shawls closer to her, she said in a more formal tone, "Why are you out of school? Where is your good-for-nothing mother?" she pointed at Susie, "Your head is bleeding!"
"Gran'mamma, please, don't call me that. Let me in. It has happened, and something has gone wrong. Let me in!"
The lady stood aside and the two went inside to the small lounge at the end of the gothic hallway.
The room and the house were exactly as Susie remembered it: like a fortuneteller's tent crossed with Windsor castle.
The light coming from the windows was dull and dim, and the curtains were velvety. Susie would never forget the pot-pourri smell that lingered on them. It made her nauseous, and she forgot about being angry at Ginny for the moment.
She sat down on the velvet pouf couch and Grandmamma left the room for a moment to come back with two cups of English tea, biscuits and a bandage for Susie's head.
"I've already phoned your school. You've had an accident and won't be able to come in anytime soon."
"What did they say?"
"Nothing. It was an answering machine. I don't know where the receptionists have all gone. It's so hard to find the right staff these days." She shook her head, making her golden hair bounce delightfully.
Of course, thought Susie dismally, they all fled when the wormhole-thingy came and sucked up Ginny.
Only when she had tied on the dressing and filled her granddaughter with Tetley and digestives, would grandmamma allow her granddaughter to talk.
"So, what has happened?" she said calmly, pouring herself another cup from the china teapot.
Susie took a breath.
"My Destiny has revealed itself to me."
Grandmamma froze and in a tone that could freeze the pacific,
"WHY are you STILL HERE?" it wasn't exactly a shout, more of a reprimand, but Susie was trembling.
"Oh, something terrible has happened!!!" Susie cried passionately, her ornate shiny hair spilling over her face as she put her head in her hands.
The lady sitting cross-legged opposite her raised a perfect golden eyebrow.
"I was Summoned," Susie said, her voice quavering.
"So why did you not go?"
"I-it, I was thrown back, something went wrong. Another girl went instead!" she cried bitterly.
"Another girl?" she said casually, with the air of someone who is sharpening a knife while you are helplessly bound to a crucifix. She continued:
"You have been trained in 7 different kinds of martial arts, yet another girl was sent? You have been trained to use a sword, an axe, a longbow and crossbow and every kind of weapon imaginable, and another girl was sent? I have educated you myself in the art of magic, spells, and even telepathy, making you a powerful sorceress, yet it is not you who goes to your Destiny? You, who are fairer than all and wiser and more kind faced, yet you were cheated! BY A COMMON GIRL!!!"
Susie was numb in her seat.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Do you know who I am?!" she cried vehemently, her shawls unfastening by themselves.
The 15-year-old shook her head.
"I am the direct descendant of Elves." Grandmamma said calmly, "I'm sure you know all about Elves."
Nod, nod.
"My ancestor was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was part- human and part-Elf," she said, "and part unicorn, you know." She added proudly.
Nod, nod, though this time a little daunted.
"Do you know my true name?"
"I thought your name was LaRose. Mum said I was named after you."
The old lady scoffed.
"My name is Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen." she said airily, and then "I think, that I shall tell you exactly what our history and purpose is."
She sat down and began. Susie had not said a word. She was fiddling with a hole in her sweater.
"None knows when the First began. All we know is that we must continue the line. Most think the first Star was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was so beautiful, that many loved her, but Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil won her heart. She saved him countless times from death, and their love were stronger than that between Luthien and Beren.
"Like you, I was summoned. I went and joined the Fellowship, of course, you know all about the Fellowship."
Susie didn't answer. Grandmamma continued, her eyes glazing over in the traditional misty fashion.
"I fulfilled my Destiny . . . and I fell in love. Of course, I remained in Middle Earth, but then I did something terrible."
"What is that?"
"All of my predecessors remained in Middle Earth until they died. They married, had children, the usual."
"Married whom?"
Her head snapped up.
"That is none of your concern." She said curtly, but continued, "I did a terrible thing. You see, unlike my predecessors, I was not born in Middle Earth."
"So where were you born?"
"It is more a question of ~when~." was the reply, "I was born here, in the present day, well, if you call the present day 1942. I, of course, went to Middle Earth and fulfilled my Destiny, completed my task, and found the man of my dreams. I had a child. And then I grew homesick."
"You returned?"
"I shouldn't have."
"How?"
"It was the wrong thing to do. I brought your mother; my daughter, here and everything seemed perfect. Middle Earth could not compare to cities and towns, where nothing was a shortage! But then, when it was time for your mother to seek her destiny . . . "
The lady sighed.
" . . . she declined it. She refused to go. And so disaster began to strike. She got married, not to an Elf, but to a mortal, and one with the most disgusting name-"
"-'Tom' is not a disgusting name-"
". . . and such a common status!"
"-There's nothing wrong with being a door-to-door window salesman-"
"And I feared for you, born in the present day, that you may decline your fate."
"But I didn't decline it, it was stolen from me."
"We shall see," Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen laughed quietly, "You must be proud of what you are, LaRose. You are exceptional; you are unique, and not just like everybody else, but truly special. Your whole life has been mapped out in the Stars. You are the Chosen One."
"To fight vampires?" she quizzed.
"Possibly, possibly," she said, "You are, after all, capable of many things. It was your Destiny to go through that portal, like so many before you. It is very important that you do. They are expecting you."
"But I told you, Ginny went instead, she somehow got sucked in. Something went wrong on the other side; I felt it. I was hurled back, that's how I hurt my head."
"And you're going to give up, just like that? Let that sow Ginny steal your legacy??" she said, her voice suddenly acquiring a new level of sternness. It had a hollow echo to it, which increased with every word.
"Grandma!"
The lady paused.
"Yes?"
"I can't go. I told you. Ginny went instead. The portal closed up. There's no one to receive me on the other end." She said, suppressing the anger that was previously building up inside her.
The lady smirked slightly.
"Who any anything about needing a reception?"
Susie was momentarily dumbstruck.
"You're going to *send* me into Middle Earth?!" she cried, standing up, "HOW?"
*~*~*
"It's all a matter of finding the right magic," said Glorfindel (Who was in Rivendell, for those who may be confused.)
"The right spell, indeed! No more, Glorfindel, no more. It was a mistake in the first place." Elrond paced his study. It was a while after the council. After everyone had left, Elrond had had a small private meeting in his study with Glorfindel and Gandalf. Aragorn was there as well, sitting (lurking would be a better word) in a shady corner. There had been some dispute earlier on as to whether he was invited or not.
"How is the Steward's son, Estel-er-Aragorn? How is the Gondorian envoy?" he asked, sitting down behind his large desk, rubbing his temples furiously.
"Boromir? He is recovering," said Aragorn, "I broke up the council as you asked. Everyone is now returned to his or her chambers, or on the Common. I believe Boromir will be all right. He has strong nerves. I do not think he would refuse the Fellowship now. It is far to late to turn back, even for death premonitions."
"And the girl?"
"Erestor says she is being looked after by a nurse. She is safe."
Elrond sighed.
"I had thought it was too good to be true, Glorfindel. And it turns out it was."
"But you have to admit, the spell DID work." The golden haired elf said, a little sheepishly, "just not in the way that you wanted . . . or expected."
"It was rather spectacular, I admit. She brought quite a few strange objects with her. Do you think they could be weapons?"
"No," said Gandalf, "I do not believe this girl capable of possessing weapons. She seems rather frail. You saw what she was like when we told her who we were and where this place was. I cannot imagine her, for example, meeting an orc or goblin."
"Yet she seemed to know of our existence. Our names were familiar to her." Said Glorfindel earnestly, "She only refused to believe in it. Didn't she say that we featured in a fictional book in her world?"
"I most highly resent that," said Elrond, "I have enough books and poems written about me, but never one that claimed I was fictional when I am here in flesh and blood!"
"So the matter is, what should we do with her?" there was a pause.
"And also how do we get the right girl here?" the golden-haired Elf lord mused.
"NO, Glorfindel! I'm sorry." Elrond stood up, "No more magic. We will leave the future to fate. Did you not hear what the girl said? With her or without her, we will succeed. If she is certain of it, then so should we. There is no need and no reason we should bring the Lost Star here, even if she is the real one. We will send the other girl back and then-"
"--My lord,"
"Yes?"
"There is . . . um . . . there is not . . . it is impossible . . ." he hesitated, "We cannot send her back."
"But she is useless here, to be blunt. She cannot fight . . . she is nothing in comparison to the real Star, who will not be coming here anyway. She could be a liability. And this is not her home. It was wrong of us to bring her here without her permission."
"But my lord, there is no way to conjure a second Portal."
"Oh . . . I see." He sank down back into his chair, "You are sure of this?" the elf nodded. He looked thoroughly dejected.
There was another lengthy pause, filled with much silence.
"But there MUST be a way, she cannot stay here for the rest of her life!" cried Aragorn suddenly.
"If there is, we have yet to find it." Said Glorfindel with some remorse.
"She is a stranger to this world, it is not her home. We brought her here, against her will, it is our duty to return her home!" the ranger landed his fist on an occasional table.
"Calm down, Aragorn. Perhaps," started Elrond, "She could stay here, in Imladris, where she will be safe. She may even be useful to us. And when you return from your mission, my lord Mithrandir, I leave it to you to find a way home for the girl. I do not believe that there is no other way of creating another portal. We will look through that book of yours once more Glorfindel. There must be a return portal somewhere. If needs be, we will have to make our own enchantments to create one."
"I think that would be a good idea." The grey wizard confirmed, nodding his old head, "I vow to use all my energy and sources to find a way home for this girl, once the quest is over."
"We will hold another council, tomorrow, to fully decide the fate of this girl in Middle Earth. I see that she is a matter not to be taken lightly, but there will be no need to invite the lords, or most of the envoys. I am sure they are busy enough. But the Fellowship must be present, as will my household."
"What about the girl?"
"She will be looked after. I may ask Arwen to accompany her, she has been very restless lately and company does her a great deal of good."
He looked around.
"I think that is all." He said.
*~*~*
The birds were twittering. Ginny wondered if they would ever stop. And the waterfall scenery was giving her a severe headache.
No, she loved Rivendell; she had loved it with a passion from the moment she had read about it. She had visualised in some obscure dreams about walking under the glades, perhaps with a certain blond elf-love, yet now she was here, it seemed like some large disappointment.
After her random outburst there had been an eruption of talk. Elrond had to yell 'SILENCE' into the crowd to get them to shut up. Then it was decided that it would be best to break up the council. Slowly everyone started to leave, and Ginny was rather forcefully escorted up some stairways, through a corridor into a large guest chamber. She strongly suspected the door had been locked behind her.
And there she was, sitting rather miserably on an elegant four-poster, too grumpy to explore her surrounds. She had been changed out of her school clothes, which were hanging to dry on the balcony rails; and a maid had been ordered to change her into some new dry garments for her as well, but the young girl had been so terrified of Ginny's glasses that she had left the clothes bundle on the foot of the bed and walk out again without even making eye contact once (apart from a rather nervous glance, which was accompanied by a whimper).
It was a strange feeling:
She was in Middle Earth, yet one side of her brain was still in denial, while another part of her was saying 'Yeah, so what?' to all the facts. She knew she shouldn't have told Boromir about his grisly demise of course. She might have affected the whole flow of causality; after thinking it out, it made sense. If she deterred Boromir from joining the Fellowship, then she would prevent his death; but then, Denethor would never relinquish his power for Aragorn to become king and reunify all the kingdoms, and poor ol' Faramir would never become prince of Ithilien. Middle Earth would still be in turmoil then.
It was all very complicated, and all very unfair.
She had read Lord of the Rings. She had loved the books. She had even read the Silmarillion, and had been planning to move onto Lost Tales. And like every fan girl before her, she had fantasised about Middle Earth. For the first time ever in history, she was here. Everything around her was genuine.
And it was a bit of a disappointment.
It wasn't that Rivendell wasn't beautiful, or that the characters -no, they weren't characters now, they were real people- weren't as she expected. On the contrary, they had been the very epitome of themselves. And she was pleased to find that there was not a particle of nylon anywhere.
It was just . . . it was all so unexpected. If someone back in her world had given her a ticket to Rivendell, she would have accepted without a second thought, but just being brought here without her permission, it made her very, very cross.
Ginny was one of those people who grew up with the foreknowledge that, try as they might, nothing exciting was going to happen to them in this life and an adventure was out of the question; burdened with the doom that after about 20 years of foundation and higher education and an Oxford degree, she could settle down with a nice, worthwhile job.
As an accountant.
It seemed almost humiliating that she of all people should be here.
*
The maid came back with her arms full, and Ginny took off her glasses and put them on a side table. Now everything further than a hand span away from her face was blurry, but at least the maid didn't regard her as a bug-eyed monster anymore.
"I've brought you warm water so you can wash," she said, and Ginny noticed the girl had an accent. She wasn't very familiar with it, Westron was not her first language (surprise, surprise), but the girl spoke differently from how the Elves did, more normal and less . . . noble. The girl was human.
"Thank you," said Ginny, and trying to be gracious and polite, "pray, what is your name?" The words sounded even more stupid now she had said them. Gandalf had said the magic was permanent, but she still couldn't get used to the fact that she could understand and talk a language, which sounded just like English, yet find it so hard.
The girl looked at her curiously before replying:
"I am called Vireth," and Ginny knew that if the name were written down, an accent on the 'i' would be absolutely compulsory.
"That's nice." She said rather feebly. The girl, who looked no older than eighteen, laid out a basin, which was propped on a stand with a large jug of gently steaming water. A white towel hung on the rail.
"Er." She said.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, but . . . what am I supposed to do?" she asked, blushing.
"The nurse said you were soaked with rain. I thought you might like to wash." The maid smiled kindly.
"Oh. OH. Right. Yes. Thank you. This is like a sponge bath."
"What is a sponge?"
"Nothing that you've heard of before." Ginny muttered under her breath. She was beginning to feel some strange new emotions. She would never have dared say anything under her breath in her own familiar world. In her own world, she was burdened with responsibilities and school grades (of which she always got top).
Now she was in Middle Earth. She processed the thought logically. For one, there was no school. She mentally waved bye-bye to yesterday's art homework. Here, she was free. Free from the oppression that was the British education system; free from the taunts and teasing that she suffered from back home from idiots and materialists like Susie. She had always been so shy in company, fearful of her reputation. Now she had none.
Here, she could do and say whatever she wanted (bearing in mind they were decent and appropriate).
Here, she could be whoever she wanted to be.
She smiled to herself.
Now all she needed was a good Elven name.
Part 3
Susie rapped hard on the oaken door of number 66, St. Matthews Street. She was soaked and her clothes were tatty from running. The rain had stopped now but it hadn't done much good.
"Gran'mamma!" she called urgently. This was her last chance. After running away from the school grounds, Susie had got home, but her mother was out. She had no phone and no money. She felt vulnerable, as if in another world, and she had cursed herself for her weakness. If it hadn't been for that bitch Ginny, she WOULD be in another world, as she was supposed to be. It was decreed in her destiny. So she was sour.
"Grandmamma!" she yelled again.
The door opened to reveal an aged lady, smiling sweetly down her granddaughter. She was wearing what seemed to be entirely composed of black and silver gauzy shawls and a black lace cap on her sleek hair. She must have been quite old, but her spinal cord was still upright, and her wavy long golden blonde hair showed no sign of greying.
She appeared proud, like a queen, and wore no jewellery except for a silver neckband around her throat. Susie's grandmother would not have been out of place in a fairytale, or even a L'Oreal advert. Her skin would put wrinkle cream and foundation companies out of business. From long distance, she LOOKED about thirty-five.
"LaRose! It's such a surprise!" she cried happily upon seeing her little girl, and then, clutching her shawls closer to her, she said in a more formal tone, "Why are you out of school? Where is your good-for-nothing mother?" she pointed at Susie, "Your head is bleeding!"
"Gran'mamma, please, don't call me that. Let me in. It has happened, and something has gone wrong. Let me in!"
The lady stood aside and the two went inside to the small lounge at the end of the gothic hallway.
The room and the house were exactly as Susie remembered it: like a fortuneteller's tent crossed with Windsor castle.
The light coming from the windows was dull and dim, and the curtains were velvety. Susie would never forget the pot-pourri smell that lingered on them. It made her nauseous, and she forgot about being angry at Ginny for the moment.
She sat down on the velvet pouf couch and Grandmamma left the room for a moment to come back with two cups of English tea, biscuits and a bandage for Susie's head.
"I've already phoned your school. You've had an accident and won't be able to come in anytime soon."
"What did they say?"
"Nothing. It was an answering machine. I don't know where the receptionists have all gone. It's so hard to find the right staff these days." She shook her head, making her golden hair bounce delightfully.
Of course, thought Susie dismally, they all fled when the wormhole-thingy came and sucked up Ginny.
Only when she had tied on the dressing and filled her granddaughter with Tetley and digestives, would grandmamma allow her granddaughter to talk.
"So, what has happened?" she said calmly, pouring herself another cup from the china teapot.
Susie took a breath.
"My Destiny has revealed itself to me."
Grandmamma froze and in a tone that could freeze the pacific,
"WHY are you STILL HERE?" it wasn't exactly a shout, more of a reprimand, but Susie was trembling.
"Oh, something terrible has happened!!!" Susie cried passionately, her ornate shiny hair spilling over her face as she put her head in her hands.
The lady sitting cross-legged opposite her raised a perfect golden eyebrow.
"I was Summoned," Susie said, her voice quavering.
"So why did you not go?"
"I-it, I was thrown back, something went wrong. Another girl went instead!" she cried bitterly.
"Another girl?" she said casually, with the air of someone who is sharpening a knife while you are helplessly bound to a crucifix. She continued:
"You have been trained in 7 different kinds of martial arts, yet another girl was sent? You have been trained to use a sword, an axe, a longbow and crossbow and every kind of weapon imaginable, and another girl was sent? I have educated you myself in the art of magic, spells, and even telepathy, making you a powerful sorceress, yet it is not you who goes to your Destiny? You, who are fairer than all and wiser and more kind faced, yet you were cheated! BY A COMMON GIRL!!!"
Susie was numb in her seat.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Do you know who I am?!" she cried vehemently, her shawls unfastening by themselves.
The 15-year-old shook her head.
"I am the direct descendant of Elves." Grandmamma said calmly, "I'm sure you know all about Elves."
Nod, nod.
"My ancestor was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was part- human and part-Elf," she said, "and part unicorn, you know." She added proudly.
Nod, nod, though this time a little daunted.
"Do you know my true name?"
"I thought your name was LaRose. Mum said I was named after you."
The old lady scoffed.
"My name is Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen." she said airily, and then "I think, that I shall tell you exactly what our history and purpose is."
She sat down and began. Susie had not said a word. She was fiddling with a hole in her sweater.
"None knows when the First began. All we know is that we must continue the line. Most think the first Star was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was so beautiful, that many loved her, but Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil won her heart. She saved him countless times from death, and their love were stronger than that between Luthien and Beren.
"Like you, I was summoned. I went and joined the Fellowship, of course, you know all about the Fellowship."
Susie didn't answer. Grandmamma continued, her eyes glazing over in the traditional misty fashion.
"I fulfilled my Destiny . . . and I fell in love. Of course, I remained in Middle Earth, but then I did something terrible."
"What is that?"
"All of my predecessors remained in Middle Earth until they died. They married, had children, the usual."
"Married whom?"
Her head snapped up.
"That is none of your concern." She said curtly, but continued, "I did a terrible thing. You see, unlike my predecessors, I was not born in Middle Earth."
"So where were you born?"
"It is more a question of ~when~." was the reply, "I was born here, in the present day, well, if you call the present day 1942. I, of course, went to Middle Earth and fulfilled my Destiny, completed my task, and found the man of my dreams. I had a child. And then I grew homesick."
"You returned?"
"I shouldn't have."
"How?"
"It was the wrong thing to do. I brought your mother; my daughter, here and everything seemed perfect. Middle Earth could not compare to cities and towns, where nothing was a shortage! But then, when it was time for your mother to seek her destiny . . . "
The lady sighed.
" . . . she declined it. She refused to go. And so disaster began to strike. She got married, not to an Elf, but to a mortal, and one with the most disgusting name-"
"-'Tom' is not a disgusting name-"
". . . and such a common status!"
"-There's nothing wrong with being a door-to-door window salesman-"
"And I feared for you, born in the present day, that you may decline your fate."
"But I didn't decline it, it was stolen from me."
"We shall see," Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen laughed quietly, "You must be proud of what you are, LaRose. You are exceptional; you are unique, and not just like everybody else, but truly special. Your whole life has been mapped out in the Stars. You are the Chosen One."
"To fight vampires?" she quizzed.
"Possibly, possibly," she said, "You are, after all, capable of many things. It was your Destiny to go through that portal, like so many before you. It is very important that you do. They are expecting you."
"But I told you, Ginny went instead, she somehow got sucked in. Something went wrong on the other side; I felt it. I was hurled back, that's how I hurt my head."
"And you're going to give up, just like that? Let that sow Ginny steal your legacy??" she said, her voice suddenly acquiring a new level of sternness. It had a hollow echo to it, which increased with every word.
"Grandma!"
The lady paused.
"Yes?"
"I can't go. I told you. Ginny went instead. The portal closed up. There's no one to receive me on the other end." She said, suppressing the anger that was previously building up inside her.
The lady smirked slightly.
"Who any anything about needing a reception?"
Susie was momentarily dumbstruck.
"You're going to *send* me into Middle Earth?!" she cried, standing up, "HOW?"
*~*~*
"It's all a matter of finding the right magic," said Glorfindel (Who was in Rivendell, for those who may be confused.)
"The right spell, indeed! No more, Glorfindel, no more. It was a mistake in the first place." Elrond paced his study. It was a while after the council. After everyone had left, Elrond had had a small private meeting in his study with Glorfindel and Gandalf. Aragorn was there as well, sitting (lurking would be a better word) in a shady corner. There had been some dispute earlier on as to whether he was invited or not.
"How is the Steward's son, Estel-er-Aragorn? How is the Gondorian envoy?" he asked, sitting down behind his large desk, rubbing his temples furiously.
"Boromir? He is recovering," said Aragorn, "I broke up the council as you asked. Everyone is now returned to his or her chambers, or on the Common. I believe Boromir will be all right. He has strong nerves. I do not think he would refuse the Fellowship now. It is far to late to turn back, even for death premonitions."
"And the girl?"
"Erestor says she is being looked after by a nurse. She is safe."
Elrond sighed.
"I had thought it was too good to be true, Glorfindel. And it turns out it was."
"But you have to admit, the spell DID work." The golden haired elf said, a little sheepishly, "just not in the way that you wanted . . . or expected."
"It was rather spectacular, I admit. She brought quite a few strange objects with her. Do you think they could be weapons?"
"No," said Gandalf, "I do not believe this girl capable of possessing weapons. She seems rather frail. You saw what she was like when we told her who we were and where this place was. I cannot imagine her, for example, meeting an orc or goblin."
"Yet she seemed to know of our existence. Our names were familiar to her." Said Glorfindel earnestly, "She only refused to believe in it. Didn't she say that we featured in a fictional book in her world?"
"I most highly resent that," said Elrond, "I have enough books and poems written about me, but never one that claimed I was fictional when I am here in flesh and blood!"
"So the matter is, what should we do with her?" there was a pause.
"And also how do we get the right girl here?" the golden-haired Elf lord mused.
"NO, Glorfindel! I'm sorry." Elrond stood up, "No more magic. We will leave the future to fate. Did you not hear what the girl said? With her or without her, we will succeed. If she is certain of it, then so should we. There is no need and no reason we should bring the Lost Star here, even if she is the real one. We will send the other girl back and then-"
"--My lord,"
"Yes?"
"There is . . . um . . . there is not . . . it is impossible . . ." he hesitated, "We cannot send her back."
"But she is useless here, to be blunt. She cannot fight . . . she is nothing in comparison to the real Star, who will not be coming here anyway. She could be a liability. And this is not her home. It was wrong of us to bring her here without her permission."
"But my lord, there is no way to conjure a second Portal."
"Oh . . . I see." He sank down back into his chair, "You are sure of this?" the elf nodded. He looked thoroughly dejected.
There was another lengthy pause, filled with much silence.
"But there MUST be a way, she cannot stay here for the rest of her life!" cried Aragorn suddenly.
"If there is, we have yet to find it." Said Glorfindel with some remorse.
"She is a stranger to this world, it is not her home. We brought her here, against her will, it is our duty to return her home!" the ranger landed his fist on an occasional table.
"Calm down, Aragorn. Perhaps," started Elrond, "She could stay here, in Imladris, where she will be safe. She may even be useful to us. And when you return from your mission, my lord Mithrandir, I leave it to you to find a way home for the girl. I do not believe that there is no other way of creating another portal. We will look through that book of yours once more Glorfindel. There must be a return portal somewhere. If needs be, we will have to make our own enchantments to create one."
"I think that would be a good idea." The grey wizard confirmed, nodding his old head, "I vow to use all my energy and sources to find a way home for this girl, once the quest is over."
"We will hold another council, tomorrow, to fully decide the fate of this girl in Middle Earth. I see that she is a matter not to be taken lightly, but there will be no need to invite the lords, or most of the envoys. I am sure they are busy enough. But the Fellowship must be present, as will my household."
"What about the girl?"
"She will be looked after. I may ask Arwen to accompany her, she has been very restless lately and company does her a great deal of good."
He looked around.
"I think that is all." He said.
*~*~*
The birds were twittering. Ginny wondered if they would ever stop. And the waterfall scenery was giving her a severe headache.
No, she loved Rivendell; she had loved it with a passion from the moment she had read about it. She had visualised in some obscure dreams about walking under the glades, perhaps with a certain blond elf-love, yet now she was here, it seemed like some large disappointment.
After her random outburst there had been an eruption of talk. Elrond had to yell 'SILENCE' into the crowd to get them to shut up. Then it was decided that it would be best to break up the council. Slowly everyone started to leave, and Ginny was rather forcefully escorted up some stairways, through a corridor into a large guest chamber. She strongly suspected the door had been locked behind her.
And there she was, sitting rather miserably on an elegant four-poster, too grumpy to explore her surrounds. She had been changed out of her school clothes, which were hanging to dry on the balcony rails; and a maid had been ordered to change her into some new dry garments for her as well, but the young girl had been so terrified of Ginny's glasses that she had left the clothes bundle on the foot of the bed and walk out again without even making eye contact once (apart from a rather nervous glance, which was accompanied by a whimper).
It was a strange feeling:
She was in Middle Earth, yet one side of her brain was still in denial, while another part of her was saying 'Yeah, so what?' to all the facts. She knew she shouldn't have told Boromir about his grisly demise of course. She might have affected the whole flow of causality; after thinking it out, it made sense. If she deterred Boromir from joining the Fellowship, then she would prevent his death; but then, Denethor would never relinquish his power for Aragorn to become king and reunify all the kingdoms, and poor ol' Faramir would never become prince of Ithilien. Middle Earth would still be in turmoil then.
It was all very complicated, and all very unfair.
She had read Lord of the Rings. She had loved the books. She had even read the Silmarillion, and had been planning to move onto Lost Tales. And like every fan girl before her, she had fantasised about Middle Earth. For the first time ever in history, she was here. Everything around her was genuine.
And it was a bit of a disappointment.
It wasn't that Rivendell wasn't beautiful, or that the characters -no, they weren't characters now, they were real people- weren't as she expected. On the contrary, they had been the very epitome of themselves. And she was pleased to find that there was not a particle of nylon anywhere.
It was just . . . it was all so unexpected. If someone back in her world had given her a ticket to Rivendell, she would have accepted without a second thought, but just being brought here without her permission, it made her very, very cross.
Ginny was one of those people who grew up with the foreknowledge that, try as they might, nothing exciting was going to happen to them in this life and an adventure was out of the question; burdened with the doom that after about 20 years of foundation and higher education and an Oxford degree, she could settle down with a nice, worthwhile job.
As an accountant.
It seemed almost humiliating that she of all people should be here.
*
The maid came back with her arms full, and Ginny took off her glasses and put them on a side table. Now everything further than a hand span away from her face was blurry, but at least the maid didn't regard her as a bug-eyed monster anymore.
"I've brought you warm water so you can wash," she said, and Ginny noticed the girl had an accent. She wasn't very familiar with it, Westron was not her first language (surprise, surprise), but the girl spoke differently from how the Elves did, more normal and less . . . noble. The girl was human.
"Thank you," said Ginny, and trying to be gracious and polite, "pray, what is your name?" The words sounded even more stupid now she had said them. Gandalf had said the magic was permanent, but she still couldn't get used to the fact that she could understand and talk a language, which sounded just like English, yet find it so hard.
The girl looked at her curiously before replying:
"I am called Vireth," and Ginny knew that if the name were written down, an accent on the 'i' would be absolutely compulsory.
"That's nice." She said rather feebly. The girl, who looked no older than eighteen, laid out a basin, which was propped on a stand with a large jug of gently steaming water. A white towel hung on the rail.
"Er." She said.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, but . . . what am I supposed to do?" she asked, blushing.
"The nurse said you were soaked with rain. I thought you might like to wash." The maid smiled kindly.
"Oh. OH. Right. Yes. Thank you. This is like a sponge bath."
"What is a sponge?"
"Nothing that you've heard of before." Ginny muttered under her breath. She was beginning to feel some strange new emotions. She would never have dared say anything under her breath in her own familiar world. In her own world, she was burdened with responsibilities and school grades (of which she always got top).
Now she was in Middle Earth. She processed the thought logically. For one, there was no school. She mentally waved bye-bye to yesterday's art homework. Here, she was free. Free from the oppression that was the British education system; free from the taunts and teasing that she suffered from back home from idiots and materialists like Susie. She had always been so shy in company, fearful of her reputation. Now she had none.
Here, she could do and say whatever she wanted (bearing in mind they were decent and appropriate).
Here, she could be whoever she wanted to be.
She smiled to herself.
Now all she needed was a good Elven name.
