Part 7

"I WANT a sword!" Ginny cried, almost in tears.

"Nonsense," the haughty elf replied, "What would you do with it?"

"To defend myself against orcs, goblins, wargs, uruk hai and balrogs of course! What do you think?!" She had been begging for the last fifteen minutes, but Erestor was not an Elf to bargain with. She continued following him pleadingly as he strode around the small armoury, fingering each of the swords and bows that hung ornamentally on the stone walls and occasionally testing them.

"Why would you want to do that? You cannot use it, and you forget: you are journeying with the Fellowship of the Ring! I suffice to say that you are in very capable hands. And besides, you are but a girl, and girls are not strong enough to use swords."

"But, but, but - you can't, I mean, I need . . . its so unfair! Arwen has a sword!" she cried in desperation. Erestor turned around slowly.

"Did Lady Arwen tell you she had a sword? Perhaps this morning?"

"No, but I mean, I know she has one. It's a lady's sword. How else could she defend Frodo at the Ford? - Oh wait . . . damn. " She had been watching the films too much.

"I do not know what you are talking about." He continued inspecting the weaponry, and picked up a shield to test its weight, "I do not know where you got your ideas from. What kind of father would Lord Elrond be, if he let his one and only daughter and our fair Evenstar run amok with swords? I expect you DO know what happened to her mother?"

"Celebrian? I'd have thought that Galadriel taught her how to fight. She was pretty good herself, what with the Kinslaying and-"

"It was that swordsmanship that made the orcs toy with her. If orc filth like one thing more than easy prey, it is easy prey with bite." He said sharply. He paused and then said quietly, "Do not tell Lord Elrond I said that."

"Fine, but I don't see what that has to do with why I can't have a sword!"

"Why do you even need one? You cannot wield it. I do not think Aragorn or Gandalf would let you come to harm, if trouble should arise. And I think the others feel just the same."

"But, I'm in the Fellowship! I need a sword! I bet one of them could teach me how to use one. Maybe Legolas . . ." Erestor sighed and turned around again.

"Firstly, you are NOT part of the Fellowship of the Ring. The Nine Fellowship have been chosen to counter the Nazghul. They've had the goodwill in them to take you as a fellow traveller. They will protect you, and you will not stray from them. You will be deposited to a safe place somewhere along the journey and then they can continue burdenless on their quest to Mordor. I do not think they have the time or the strength or the patience to teach someone like *you*. Now go away and leave me alone. I have a task to do. I must test these weapons to see if they are safe for use."

Ginny said nothing and continued to stand in the doorway. Her sulk said everything that needed to be said. Erestor sighed and shook his head.

"If I give you a long knife, will you go away?" he said, worn out, taking one from behind him without glancing at it and handing it to her. The girl brightened immediately.

"Now go away before I regret my decision." Ginny went out of the room. Then she stopped and turned around to him.

"Thank you. I really mean it."

"Yes, yes, Fine." Erestor shut the door with a sigh, closing his eyes. The Elf took some breaths, rubbing his temples and smoothing his black hair back before continuing with his task.

Then he heard a soft rap at the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and opened it again.

"Can I have a crossbow as well?" said Ginny, standing in the doorway, eyes shining as she grasped her newly acquired weapon.

"Of course not! That is an Easterling weapon, and we do not use weapons of the enemy."

"Oh. Well, can I have a longbow then?"

Erestor sighed again.

"Here." He said. Ginny's eyes widened.

"Wow! Thank you so much! This is so cool!" She said, and smiled, "I just want to tell you how much I appreciate this. It means a lot to me you know? I mean, I suppose I have been a bit of a pain in the-"

-SLAM-

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"So how is your grandmother?"

"Oh she's alright." Susie poured the washing up liquid into the running water and picked up the dishcloth.

There was silence in the Smith household. Beruthia Illiadie Titania Caschiara Herenna Smith (most people called her Ruth, unless they wanted to be pulverised) sipped her coffee quietly, as she listened to her daughter's words. The day had finally come. Susie would go and collect her 'destiny'. She gave a mental snort. And then scolded herself. She should support her daughter, Mary Sue or no. She *should*.

"Your school's on the local news you know. They're calling it a freak weather phenomenon. Apparently, there are still people missing."

"Really."

"So what have you been up to at your grandmothers? And why is your hair singed?"

"We haven't been doing anything. Nothing is going on. My head is fine. Grandmamma gave me a bandage." Ruth put her mug down hard on the dining table.

"You don't have to pretend that I don't know what you get up to. I was in your place once you know. I expect LaRose told you about it."

Susie turned to her mother.

"Why didn't you go when you were in my place? You know what I'm talking about. Why didn't you go to Middle Earth?" Ruth sipped her coffee before answering.

"I guess you could say that I just wasn't the fairytale type."

"No, really, why didn't you go? It should have been hereditary. Everyone goes to Arda sooner or later. Why did you turn it down?" She dried her hands and sat down on the table.

"I suppose it was because I never liked the books. Have you read them yet? The contents are quite depressing you know. All this good versus evil, and it's so unfair. I never touched them again. They're still in my book closet."

"Really? I was looking for them . . . after I found out about the whole . . . thing."

"So are you stuck here now?" said Ruth.

Oh, how she wished it were true. It was wrong, all this 'world-tripping', going on adventures, saving the world. She knew it wasn't for her when she first read the books. And now her darling mother had got her own daughter involved. It was wrong, destiny or not. She wished she could tell her daughter her fears for her, but she knew Susie wouldn't listen. Tom wouldn't understand either. Her husband concerned himself with such trivial matters; it was always money, and double-glazing. He had been spending less and less time at home with her now, and never even looked at their daughter nowadays, ever since he found out about the whole Mary Sue thing.

She couldn't help it. It was, after all, hereditary.

"No," said Susie, "there's still the problem of a girl in my class who got sucked there in my place by mistake." Ruth stood up.

"And she's still there?! Her parents will be worried sick!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Grandmother says she's going to try and get me to my destination and also switch our places at the same time, so she gets returned home and I get to Middle Earth. Then everyone's happy."

"You're still going." Said Ruth, and her voice was cold and steely. What she wanted to say was 'I love you so much, don't leave me', but how? How could she say that to this girl who claimed to be her daughter yet was going to leave her to go and save another world without even thinking about *her*? She had spoiled her too much. The child was becoming a brat. It was her mother's fault too.

There was a sharp rap at the back door, and Grandmother LaRose swooped into the kitchen. Ruth clicked her tongue and busied herself with the coffee maker. Just because she owned a mansion herself didn't mean she owned everyone else's homes as well, but the old bat never seemed to realise.

"Hello my dear!" Said LaRose, addressing the seated Susie. Her mouth stiffened when she saw her daughter by the counter, "Beruthia." She nodded coldly.

"RUTH, mother. And why are you here? Susie is not going anywhere. I'm going to make that clear. You are not making her do anything against her will, do you understand. She is MY daughter."

"Calm down Beruthia," said LaRose stiffly, her nose high, "And I'm not. She chose to do this of her own free will. She is going to claim her Destiny like me, as she should, and soon. Who knows what that other girl is doing over there? She is going to be a legacy . . . unlike some."

The 37-year-old Ruth sagged.

"Why do you hate me mother? Is it because I didn't go?" she said, defeated. LaRose ignored it.

"Now Susie, remember what I said about Plan C?" she sat down beside her granddaughter.

"Do you have it?"

"No, we don't need it! What I have here is much better. It guarantees everything. Every damn thing."

"What is it?"

Out of the many pockets of her clothing, LaRose drew out a small crystal phial. The liquid contents were a violent purple, and shimmered like stars.

"There is a flower that grows only the light of the moon. It will only grow in the, er, dung, of the silver hind. It only blooms under the glare of the full moon, and they will only show petals once every . . . every-"

"-Hundred years mother-"

" . . . hundred years. Yes. Very rare, and very precious I can tell you. This is powerfully magical. At the next full moon, the person who drinks this will have control of Reality, complete control, for merely a fraction of a second. Every wish you make during that fraction of a second will be granted, every statement come true. You will drink this, and you will concentrate on what you want, which is?"

"To Extend the Mortal Hand Past the Mundane, into the Realm of Illusions and Seek Thy True Destiny. I concentrate on trying to reach Middle Earth." Susie recited, as Ruth coughed dejectedly in the corner of the tiny kitchen, "But Grandmamma, the next full moon's only a few days away!"

"Good." Said LaRose confidently, "I think you know what to do now. Full moon, midnight, you know the score."

She stood up.

"The time has come, Maria Susan. You shall be held back no more. Fare well and good luck."

She turned to leave.

"Goodbye . . . Ruth." She said, without glancing at the utterly defeated woman behind her.

After the door shut, Ruth burst into tears.

"Hush, mum, I'm sorry, I have to do this . . ." Susie put her hand on her mothers shaking shoulders.

Ruth merely sobbed more.

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Vireth was helping her to pack. Ginny had emptied her schoolbag and her coat. The contents were depressing, and made her miss home. For the past two days, she had tried not to think about home, and just treat this like an adventure in a children's storybook kind of thing.

Something would come up. Sooner or later, something would happen and she would be returned home like nothing had ever happened. Something . . .

She had £1.37 in her purse, and also a pack of tissues. There was her pencil case, and her schoolbooks. She wouldn't be needing those. Or the calculator. She showed the machine to Vireth, and let her play with it like a child while she tried to think what she was going to do.

And she had also spotted the problem of her period.

Rummaging around the pockets of her schoolbag came up with three sanitary pads and three tampons, and also a few panty liners. She was prepared for school, but those supplies wouldn't last her barely a day in the wild. She'd have to ask Vireth about the whole thing.

Vireth's answer turned out to be rags. Spare clean rags, rolled into a sort of bulging, absorbent cushion, which you slipped into your underwear. Uncomfortable and inconvenient, but it'd have to do. She'd have to take a supply, and change and wash whenever she could.

She sighed.

Why, why was she here? Why was she doing this? This wasn't her world, be it real or not. So what if you want to see Lothlorien, they always said that Tolkien based it on the New Forest anyway. She shouldn't be doing this. Maybe Susie was, but she wasn't here and never will be.

Why join the fellowship anyway? She knew everything that was going to happen. And Elvish wasn't that hard anyway.

Rivendell had a toxic effect on the memory. It seemed like days had passed, as if she had been here all along. She instinctively checked her ears for any sign of a tip. She exhaled. They were round, and rather dirty.

She wondered whether she should take the violin and the bicycle with only one wheel. She couldn't leave them here; she might never get them back. They could be all that were left of her own home, her own world. God, she missed it: the quilted toilet paper, herbal essences shampoo, fluffy slippers, cornflakes, even algebra. God, what she would do for some chocolate.

She stuffed her schoolbag with everything she would need on the trip. It was important to pack light, and she decided to wear her black and white school uniform anyway, along with extra coats and if she allowed it, a cloak.

This was not her fight, but Gods know, it would be.

******************

Ginny woke. Sun from her skylight blinded her. Her eyes opened.

"Ginny!" It was her mother's voice, "Hurry up, you're late for school! Michael's already gone!" It took her a while to remember that Michael was her brother.

"OK, I'm up." She croaked, and got out of her oh-so-warm-and-comfortable bed. The wallpaper was blue, and posterless.

She walked groggily in the corridor. At the end of the hallway where the bathroom should be, was a grassy meadow. Dragons were flying happily around it.

"Green." She said, and went downstairs.

Orlando Bloom was making breakfast.

"You like cheese, don't you?" he said. Beside him, Cate Blanchett poured herself a glass of orange flavoured milk.

"You'll never guess where I've been." Ginny said, sitting down to a breakfast of escargot. She pushed the plate away.

"The hairdryer factory? You must remember your lines for the play. You're playing the King of the Fairies."

"I thought they were Elves."

"Lle anta yulna en alu?" he asked. Ginny shook her head and blinked hard.

"Uh. What?"

"Do you want a drink of water?"

"Um. It's ok, thank you."

Cate Blanchett stood up.

"Come,"

And then they were in the garden. She stood, her hair long and golden and flowing, by a stone birdbath.

"Will you wake up and look?" she said.

"What will I see?" said Ginny slowly.

"The mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and pages from the Argos catalogue."

"Now I can shop online!" Ginny cried to the trees. There was a flutter of wings as black silhouettes of birds flew out.

. . . And then she woke up again, to the surroundings of a Rivendell guest bedroom. Vireth was stuffing some dry bread into a paper pack in her bag, and using Ginny's newly acquired sword to cut it into chunks.

Ginny cried, and she didn't know why.

***

"Farewell, and good luck." Said Elrond to the assembled Fellowship', who stood proud and stern. Ginny lagged in a corner. So here she was, joining the Fellowship. Who'd have thought it? She echoed mentally. There was a desire in her heart to pummel something very hard, and that scared her. Everyone in the Fellowship had been very nice to her, but the Hobbits kept their distance, and the men and wizard never seemed to include her in anyway into their conversation. And they hadn't even *started* on their journey.

The night before, Bilbo had given her a lovely present of a sheath for her sword, which had some pretty runes on. Vireth had found her some warm cloaks/blankets/towels, and had even enlisted help in the form of her chirpy brother Barandor to put the wheel back on her bicycle, which meant she didn't need to walk to Mordor.

The violin would have to be taken, (Ginny refused point blank to leave it behind) she would carry it by the shoulder strap, and she had her supply of food and dried fruit for the scurvy.

She had taken everything that she could, but inevitably, some things would have to go. Her maths textbook she was not at all sad to lose. Of what was left were such things like her lunch box, emptied of it's perishable goods, (She gave her banana intended for lunch to Pippin, who remarked that it 'didn't feel right eating something shaped like a-' and there he had been thankfully interrupted. Hobbits were very coarse sometimes. Sam finished off her peanut butter sandwiches.) But the crisps and the KitKat were saved. She took her 500ml bottle of mineral water as well as her notebook. If she couldn't write about her experiences, then she might as well kill herself. All this plus the supplies that Rivendell had to offer meant that Ginny's bag would seriously stunt her growth. Get ready for sore shoulders.

Hooray for Rivendell.

Elrond watched. He said nothing, just watched. He watched the way Sam protected his master, his arms ready to fly out and support him if his strength should fail, and he felt another pang of guilt for the hobbit's pains. But he had done all he could for that morgul wound, yet it would never heal.

He watched the girl carefully. He never said to her how much she annoyed him. She should be grateful she was getting a free tour of Middle Earth, the land she apparently knew so much about. He had been kind enough not to reprimand her for running around that afternoon, especially with the brother of a serving-girl, romping around like that.

And so the Nine Walkers of the Fellowship, plus one displaced adolescent girl left Rivendell, with hearts heavy and one singing Evanescence. Waving them out were the Rivendellians, hope and pride in their hearts.

The sun was setting, making the sky glow a fiery red. Ginny took a breath of that lovely misty mountain air and turned to the wizened old wizard beside her, and decided to quote the film again.

"So, Gandalf, which way to Mordor?"

And Gandalf said

"Left."