Part 9: [egad, has it been nine chapters already? Sorry it took so long for
this one to get out. I'm having real trouble with my muses. That and my
Internet. Feckin' ntl:]
Legolas and Susie switch places. So you'll be pleased there's no romance, well, at least not between *them*. Oh, and the things that Erestor talks about in this chapter may be likened an Elvish Pythagoras theorem. And the postman is the British postman, as is the post service. It's done the British way.
*********************************************
It seemed to Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood that one moment he was *here*, and the next minute he was not.
For one thing, there was no snow; but it was still cold, in a feeble, damp, rainy way. The sky overhead was a dark navy, and he couldn't see any of the stars. He had no idea where he was without the stars.
Legolas Greenleaf and his keen Elven senses knew immediately he was deep in shit.
This place was . . . strange. He was standing on stone plates, but they were cut smooth, and there were little cracks between them, and little grubby white patches were dotted on them. Some stuck to the soles of his shoes. This was weird. Either side of him were rows and rows of square grey buildings with square windows.
He had no idea how he'd got here, except that he had probably left his bow behind. Bloody, bloody damn. He decided to explore this strange avenue.
There was light, but it was not sunlight, nor the white, clean light of the moon and stars. It was orange, and foul, and it was emitted from those tall straight metal-stone trees that grew every few feet along the road, no, there weren't trees, they were poles. And yes, it was definitely a road, though it was covered in a hard, black rubbery layer.
There was a sound, and he poised himself, ready to defend. It was coming along the 'road'. He could barely shout before a great metal beast came past him, faster than anything he'd ever seen. He dreaded to think what would happen if he got in the way of one of them. But they had *wheels*. They were . . . machines, engines, running in a straight line. There came a loud voice from inside the metal thing, but he couldn't understand English, and he couldn't understand what "Getthehellofftheroad ya-pixie!" meant. He jumped back, heart beating.
Eventually he found shelter of some sorts behind a low wall, resting his head and his eyes until morning came.
What was this world?
Why was he here?
****************************************
"No, my lord, you do not understand, 'x' can mean anything. But you see, if 'x' added to, say four, equals nine, then 'x' would have to be five!" he coloured a little, "I just thought you should know."
Elrond paused. The turned to face his chief counsellor
"Ingenious!" he cried, "This is a revelation! If this 'x' can be anything, imagine what else it could do!"
Erestor hesitated.
"It doesn't quite work like that."
"Then how do you explain how bracket, ecks plus yanta, multiplied by bracket, ecks minus yanta, can equal ecks squared take away yanta squared??"
"Er, that was what I came to consult you about. And there is also the matter of how Ah squared added to Umbar squared can be the same as Calma squared."
"Hmm. This is intriguing. If only Lord Mithrandir were here, I would ask him what his thoughts were."
"Indeed. Lady Galadriel would be quite fascinated herself. Do you think she can read these numbers?"
"No, but they are not difficult. They are merely replicas, as I told you, of the numerical system in Rhun, and maybe some parts of Harad. That is a one; that is a seven. That is a . . . five, while the other is a two . . either that or the sign for 'donkey'. Estel has shown me them many times. I do not know why he exerts himself like that. He is busy enough now, what with Arwen . . . Yes. I think my mother-in-law would be delighted with this. Indeed, I will have to send word to her."
"Yes, m'lord."
"And Erestor?"
"Lord Elrond?"
"I cannot read all of the words, though we can both read the numbers, but still: what is a 'hipp-ot-en-yuse'?"
***************************************
The Fellowship of the Ring was in disarray. They were one short, well, technically. But now they'd just got a replacement, who was currently filing her nails with a worried frown on her face.
"Susie, why are you here?" Ginny cried, exasperated.
"Why do you think? Don't tell me you never noticed my full name, for that you can blame my mother, I'm meant to come here. Except I was supposed to have the rest of my stuff. I've lost my magical familiar." She frowned.
"No you're not! There are *nine* in the Fellowship, and now there are eleven, minus one. What would Tolkien say?"
"Who's Tolkien? And besides, it wasn't him who was supposed to go back, it was you!" Ginny hesitated before answering.
"That's not the point. Why are your eyes multicoloured? And anyway, how come you can speak Westron? I can understand you, but that's because of some magic they pulled. They don't speak English here, or haven't you noticed?"
"Well, I guess I can speak Westron. I mean, it pretty much amounts to the same thing as English, and when you've learnt Elvish and Dwarvish and Entish and Quenya, it's not that hard anyway." As she talked in her drawling tone, the hobbits gazed at her words, nodding, rapt.
"You can't know Elvish, it doesn't even exist!" Ginny wrung her frostbitten hands.
"I got it off a website."
"--Which just teach you phrases like 'go kiss an orc'. What good is that here?" Susie glared up at her.
"Auta miqula orqu!" She cried vehemently. Aragorn turned to her, frowning,
"Go kiss a what?!"
"UH!" Ginny left her and walked to Gandalf.
"What do we do now?" she said, echoing the words of hundreds before her, often the last words ever.
"I do not know. I know not how Legolas was removed from us, and I do not know how to get him back to us. I have no idea where he may be. The quest stands on the edge of a knife now. We have lost one of our companions, but I do not think he is dead. He may return to us yet."
"Of course he's not dead!" Everyone turned to look at her, "He's on Earth, he and Susie switched places, don't you see? Except it was supposed to be ME who switched with Susie, who can't work a spell and now's he's in sunny England, and she's here, so if we get her to go back the same way she came, Legolas will return here."
'And I can go back with her,' she mentally added.
Susie spoke up sheepishly,
"Well, there's still the problem that I'm, ahem, *stuck* here. I smashed the bottle." Her schoolmate peered at her.
"You got here with a *bottle*?"
"The bottle contents actually."
"But what about the book that Lord Glorfindel used that got Gin here in the first place?" Aragorn spoke up. There was a chorus of assent.
"We cannot return to Rivendell bearing the ring when we have come so far!" Gandalf bellowed, "Spies will follow us, we could put Imladris in terrible danger. And it is much too late to return. We could send someone to fetch the book, but it needs the strength of Elrond to perform the magic required. It has taken us a month to get here, it is too long to return when our time is running out."
There was silence as everyone thought over his words.
"Oh great, now I'm stuck here." Susie muttered. She shivered, and snatched Ginny's blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Leaving enough cleavage in view, of course.
"I thought you wanted that?" Ginny sighed.
"Not permanently! You do realise they don't have chocolate or panty liners here!"
"A long time ago, Susie." Ginny replied, flatly.
"My name's not Susie. My name is Caranithilwendiriel."
"How imaginative. How did you come up with that elvish?"
"What elvish?"
"I have decided." Gandalf boomed, "We cannot forfeit the quest now, and it is with a heavy heart that we continue our journey, without Legolas."
"But we need a guy with a bow!" cried Ginny, "Then where's the canon?"
"I can substitute!" 'Caranithilwendiriel' shouted majestically, her voice ringing in the cold air, "My shooting is ten times more accurate than any elf's!"
Ginny buried her face in her hands.
**************************************
This surely had to be hell, thought Legolas as he looked around. These houses were . . . so strange, made of stones so square it was amazing. Everything had a dull neatness to it, and the doors had little decorative panes of glass in. Light was randomly emitted form some.
But the air was so . . . filthy. A slight but continuous odour hung in the air, a faint vapour of burnt things that never seemed to disperse. He sniffed gingerly. There did not seem to be any dangers lurking here, it was far too dull, and besides, the sun was coming up.
Legolas sat down with a resourceful air at the edge of the pavement and waited patiently. He didn't know what for, but there was little else he could do until he could find help of some sorts. At least, when Arien the sun was fully up, he could find his way around easier.
As he rested, he watched a man with a bright shoulder bag and jacket walk down the street. He went to almost every door, not knocking, but taking some wads of paper out of his bag and pushing them into a slot in the wood. What was this person?
A gate creaked open behind him, and he swung around to meet the intruder with superb reflexes. His bow was still in Middle earth, but his long dagger was already half drawn.
Two people were now staring at him: the postman, who had dropped his bag, and Beruthia 'Ruth' Smith. The latter's eyes were a big as a mushroom.
"What the-"
Legolas stared at her. Something stirred in her memory, and then he remembered where he had seen her face. It was the same face he had seen in the portal that was supposed to bring Susie the Lost Star, but brought Ginny instead. Well, it wasn't the exact same face; it was more defined than Susie's, the face rounder, the hair paler and almost red. Could this be his supposed-to-be soul mate's relative?
"Susie?" He whispered the name that had been told to him.
"Dear God," Ruth was whimpering. It didn't take a genius to work out who was standing in front of her right now: he looked not a lot different to Orlando Bloom in the film, "Susie, what have you done?! Mother!! What have you *done*?!"
The woman was babbling, but Legolas put away the offending blade, and walked toward her. She was not as young as he'd first thought; she looked about thirty or forty in mortal appearance, yet there was something about her, something he'd envisioned in the portal. This had to be Susie's mother.
Instead of meeting the acorn, I'm meeting the oak, he thought as he stared. Being from Mirkwood, trees were never far from his mind.
"Elbereth," he murmured in his own tongue of Mirkwood, but she'd heard it. She seemed to understand it. Her brow was knotted, and to his surprise, she was replying in shaky sindarin.
"Is, are . . . you . . . Legolas?" she said in sindarin, her tone quavering. This was the first time she had ever used an elvish tongue for real in her life. LaRose had forced her to learn it from when she was only 6, everyday after school, in preparation for when she ever met an elf. Pointless, it had been, for the last thirty years, since she never went to middle earth to 'claim her destiny' and 'fulfil the prophecy', but now it was finally coming into play.
Why, oh why did it have to be in a situation like this?! She wailed mentally.
"Where are I, who are you? How did I get here? How do I get back?!" the elf cried again harshly in his language, while behind him the postman was positively running for the next street. Ruth processed this in her mind and tried to translate, before attempting to answer.
"I, er, am . . . a friend," she translated, with the help of hand gestures, "My name is Ruth. Um. You are now in new ground . . . er . . . modern earth."
Well, he took that well, she thought.
"And how did I get here?" he asked again. Ruth thought for a moment.
"You'll have to blame my mother and my daughter for that." She said carefully, remembering Elven vocabulary as she went, "You've met my daughter I assume?"
Legolas shook his head.
"Oh." And then the full reality of the situation hit her, " Dear god, I have an elf in my front garden." She murmured, returning to English. Suddenly, her sense of balance evaporated, and she sank down onto the wall, her hand on her forehead. The elf looked on, a worried frown on his face.
And then she was up again seconds later, forcefully pushing the blond, confused elf through the door of her house, all the time muttering,
"Needs clothes, needs to look normal . . . tie hair back to cover ears. Curse you mother. "
"I hope I won't be a problem to you," Legolas said shyly.
"No! Not at all, despite the fact you are a fictitious character of a fictitious race from a fictitious book, currently in what is know as the real world! Well, as far as we know." Her tone was not happy.
Legolas remained silent as she made him 'welcome' in her small, cramped and strangely furnished home, bidding him be quiet for fear of waking her husband. He drank the drink she had made him; It tasted sweet yet bitter - 'tea', she had called - he drank it without objection, and sat quietly on the 'sofa' without dispute. Ruth sighed, satisfied. He was doing well so far. No shock signs at all.
Getting him to wear 'normal' clothes was harder though. He refused to change out of his Mirkwood garb, and complained about the blue canvas breeches that Ruth had found for him. She persisted that he had to look right to avert suspicion, "for no one could find out that Legolas from Lord of the Rings was in the real world". Finally, after much hushed deliberation, he settled on a cotton green T-Shirt and a woolly jumper that belonged to Ruth's husband, and some khaki cords. They were too short and baggy for his tall, lithe frame, but it was a large improvement.
While he was changing, Legolas heard Ruth in the hallway, talking to someone.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks Vicky. I know, it is a bother for you, sorry 'bout that. Just tell them . . . I've got a foreign relative come over, no he can't speak English, that's why I have to help him round, ya know. Yeah, got no money either. Nah, I'm coping ok. Class it under domestic leave, 'k?"
There was a pause.
"Alright, alright, tell them I'll be in tomorrow. Yes, I will. I will! I promise. Okay. Bye then."
And then she came back into the room, putting on her outdoor coat.
"Whom were you speaking to?" he asked suspiciously.
"My friend, my colleague."
He watched her face carefully.
"I heard no other voice." He said suspiciously
"I was on the phone. The telephone. It converts your voice into 'electronic' (just think lightning) signals and transfers them across a grid . . . network to the person you desire to speak to and turns it back into sound. So they hear your voice as if they were talking to you in person."
"I . . . see."
He hesitated.
"We . . . do not have those in Greenwood. I have never heard of such a thing in Middle Earth. But I think someone may invent it if they have the resources in Valinor." He sounded almost resentful.
"That is disputable. Are you going to tie your hair back? No one wears their hair like that here. You'll have to undo those braids if you want to go out." She moved forward to him to tie his hair, but he was quicker, and grasped her wrist firmly, but gently, away from him.
"Please, I will do it myself. Now tell me where we are going." He said, his voice strained.
She freed herself and sighed.
"I'd never thought I'd have to say this again; It was hard enough the first time with Tom . . ." she cleared her throat, "We're going to see my mother."
***
Squeak.
Squeak.
Creak.
"Can't you make that thing be quiet?" Said Susie through her teeth. Ginny coloured and blushed.
"It's not my fault. The snow's made it rust."
"Be quiet, the two of you; you've made it hard enough already." Came the gruff voice of Gandalf, but he gave Susie a condoling smile, at which Ginny scowled. Aragorn and Boromir heard nothing; they were too preoccupied with carrying the hobbits piggyback down the snowy mountain. Ginny could see their breath condensing in the sharp air. Sweat was on their foreheads as they waded through the waist high snow. She bit her lip. She'd had her share or Gandalf's miruvor (which made her wonder why Elrond only gave ONE phial, and to HIM), but the effects were wearing off.
She *had* tried riding through the snow, and the result was that her bicycle was rusting badly. It had been all she could do so that they wouldn't use her violin for fuel when they had run out of wood.
Finally, they were going to get off this goddamn mountain and get on with the plot.
*
"My giddy aunt." Were the first words LaRose spoke when she saw the six- foot elf cross her threshold, followed by her own daughter.
"Nice to see you too mother," hailed Ruth curtly, taking off her coat and shoes as she stepped inside.
"Is that who I think it is?"
Ruth paused.
"Yes."
The elf came forward, and extended a rigid hand, smiling proudly. LaRose stared at it as if it was a slug bathing in salt.
"I taught him to do that." Said Ruth meekly.
"Hallo, ant god dey. How ah you?" spoke the Elf. It was a while before LaRose could close her mouth.
"He's worse than your husband." She said finally, breathless.
"His name is Tom, you know."
LaRose frowned.
"I thought he was Legolas?"
"No, not *him*. Oh never mind. You know why we're here." They went swiftly into the lounge.
"NO. No I don't. I don't know why *you* are here. There is no reason for you to be. But HIM."
As mother and daughter argued, Legolas explored the room. It was small and cramped, like Ruth's house, and smelled faintly of dried flowers. There were numerous ornaments around the side, even a ram's skull, and several rather gruesome paintings. LaRose was not the rocking chair grandmother that knitted. Her mantelpiece was clean bare, save for a few McDonald's Happy Meal toys arranged tidily, and hanging above the mantelpiece on the wall, there was
"How did anyone obtain this?" He spoke in Westron.
It was a sword. A large sword. A large, bright sword, with several large rubies in the hilt. It echoed magic. It was the ultimate symbol to Destiny. And it also happened to belong to Thranduil of Mirkwood.
LaRose looked in his direction, and reddened. She took down the sword before legolas could touch it and then tried to assume a 'There's- absolutely-nothing-behind-my-back' stance. But he had seen it.
"That is my father's sword. It was specially forged for him by the blacksmiths of Esgaroth. He passed it unto me. I own it." He said gravely.
"He said-" Ruth started
"I know what he said!" LaRose cried. She switched to perfect Elvish, and replied haughtily "It is not what it looks like. This sword does not belong to you. It is mine. I acquired this a long time ago, and it has been in this room ever since."
There was a bitter stare between the two, but something more in the eyes of LaRose. Regret. Ruth hesitated, but then took the sword.
"This is not the time. Legolas is in Modern Earth, or haven't you noticed? So what are you going to do about it?" she snapped at her mother, who folded her arms defiantly.
"This is not my fault. Who'd have thought your daughter was so useless. I told you to nurture her; I told you she needed angst to go with it all, but no-o. You've always been so overprotective. How's she going to survive Helm's Deep or Pelennor Fields like that? Silly girl, at least she's there now."
She indicated the stairs
"Don't go up there, she blew up the attic last time she was here. Who'd have thought oyster excretion could have such a dynamic effect?"
Legolas and Susie switch places. So you'll be pleased there's no romance, well, at least not between *them*. Oh, and the things that Erestor talks about in this chapter may be likened an Elvish Pythagoras theorem. And the postman is the British postman, as is the post service. It's done the British way.
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It seemed to Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood that one moment he was *here*, and the next minute he was not.
For one thing, there was no snow; but it was still cold, in a feeble, damp, rainy way. The sky overhead was a dark navy, and he couldn't see any of the stars. He had no idea where he was without the stars.
Legolas Greenleaf and his keen Elven senses knew immediately he was deep in shit.
This place was . . . strange. He was standing on stone plates, but they were cut smooth, and there were little cracks between them, and little grubby white patches were dotted on them. Some stuck to the soles of his shoes. This was weird. Either side of him were rows and rows of square grey buildings with square windows.
He had no idea how he'd got here, except that he had probably left his bow behind. Bloody, bloody damn. He decided to explore this strange avenue.
There was light, but it was not sunlight, nor the white, clean light of the moon and stars. It was orange, and foul, and it was emitted from those tall straight metal-stone trees that grew every few feet along the road, no, there weren't trees, they were poles. And yes, it was definitely a road, though it was covered in a hard, black rubbery layer.
There was a sound, and he poised himself, ready to defend. It was coming along the 'road'. He could barely shout before a great metal beast came past him, faster than anything he'd ever seen. He dreaded to think what would happen if he got in the way of one of them. But they had *wheels*. They were . . . machines, engines, running in a straight line. There came a loud voice from inside the metal thing, but he couldn't understand English, and he couldn't understand what "Getthehellofftheroad ya-pixie!" meant. He jumped back, heart beating.
Eventually he found shelter of some sorts behind a low wall, resting his head and his eyes until morning came.
What was this world?
Why was he here?
****************************************
"No, my lord, you do not understand, 'x' can mean anything. But you see, if 'x' added to, say four, equals nine, then 'x' would have to be five!" he coloured a little, "I just thought you should know."
Elrond paused. The turned to face his chief counsellor
"Ingenious!" he cried, "This is a revelation! If this 'x' can be anything, imagine what else it could do!"
Erestor hesitated.
"It doesn't quite work like that."
"Then how do you explain how bracket, ecks plus yanta, multiplied by bracket, ecks minus yanta, can equal ecks squared take away yanta squared??"
"Er, that was what I came to consult you about. And there is also the matter of how Ah squared added to Umbar squared can be the same as Calma squared."
"Hmm. This is intriguing. If only Lord Mithrandir were here, I would ask him what his thoughts were."
"Indeed. Lady Galadriel would be quite fascinated herself. Do you think she can read these numbers?"
"No, but they are not difficult. They are merely replicas, as I told you, of the numerical system in Rhun, and maybe some parts of Harad. That is a one; that is a seven. That is a . . . five, while the other is a two . . either that or the sign for 'donkey'. Estel has shown me them many times. I do not know why he exerts himself like that. He is busy enough now, what with Arwen . . . Yes. I think my mother-in-law would be delighted with this. Indeed, I will have to send word to her."
"Yes, m'lord."
"And Erestor?"
"Lord Elrond?"
"I cannot read all of the words, though we can both read the numbers, but still: what is a 'hipp-ot-en-yuse'?"
***************************************
The Fellowship of the Ring was in disarray. They were one short, well, technically. But now they'd just got a replacement, who was currently filing her nails with a worried frown on her face.
"Susie, why are you here?" Ginny cried, exasperated.
"Why do you think? Don't tell me you never noticed my full name, for that you can blame my mother, I'm meant to come here. Except I was supposed to have the rest of my stuff. I've lost my magical familiar." She frowned.
"No you're not! There are *nine* in the Fellowship, and now there are eleven, minus one. What would Tolkien say?"
"Who's Tolkien? And besides, it wasn't him who was supposed to go back, it was you!" Ginny hesitated before answering.
"That's not the point. Why are your eyes multicoloured? And anyway, how come you can speak Westron? I can understand you, but that's because of some magic they pulled. They don't speak English here, or haven't you noticed?"
"Well, I guess I can speak Westron. I mean, it pretty much amounts to the same thing as English, and when you've learnt Elvish and Dwarvish and Entish and Quenya, it's not that hard anyway." As she talked in her drawling tone, the hobbits gazed at her words, nodding, rapt.
"You can't know Elvish, it doesn't even exist!" Ginny wrung her frostbitten hands.
"I got it off a website."
"--Which just teach you phrases like 'go kiss an orc'. What good is that here?" Susie glared up at her.
"Auta miqula orqu!" She cried vehemently. Aragorn turned to her, frowning,
"Go kiss a what?!"
"UH!" Ginny left her and walked to Gandalf.
"What do we do now?" she said, echoing the words of hundreds before her, often the last words ever.
"I do not know. I know not how Legolas was removed from us, and I do not know how to get him back to us. I have no idea where he may be. The quest stands on the edge of a knife now. We have lost one of our companions, but I do not think he is dead. He may return to us yet."
"Of course he's not dead!" Everyone turned to look at her, "He's on Earth, he and Susie switched places, don't you see? Except it was supposed to be ME who switched with Susie, who can't work a spell and now's he's in sunny England, and she's here, so if we get her to go back the same way she came, Legolas will return here."
'And I can go back with her,' she mentally added.
Susie spoke up sheepishly,
"Well, there's still the problem that I'm, ahem, *stuck* here. I smashed the bottle." Her schoolmate peered at her.
"You got here with a *bottle*?"
"The bottle contents actually."
"But what about the book that Lord Glorfindel used that got Gin here in the first place?" Aragorn spoke up. There was a chorus of assent.
"We cannot return to Rivendell bearing the ring when we have come so far!" Gandalf bellowed, "Spies will follow us, we could put Imladris in terrible danger. And it is much too late to return. We could send someone to fetch the book, but it needs the strength of Elrond to perform the magic required. It has taken us a month to get here, it is too long to return when our time is running out."
There was silence as everyone thought over his words.
"Oh great, now I'm stuck here." Susie muttered. She shivered, and snatched Ginny's blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Leaving enough cleavage in view, of course.
"I thought you wanted that?" Ginny sighed.
"Not permanently! You do realise they don't have chocolate or panty liners here!"
"A long time ago, Susie." Ginny replied, flatly.
"My name's not Susie. My name is Caranithilwendiriel."
"How imaginative. How did you come up with that elvish?"
"What elvish?"
"I have decided." Gandalf boomed, "We cannot forfeit the quest now, and it is with a heavy heart that we continue our journey, without Legolas."
"But we need a guy with a bow!" cried Ginny, "Then where's the canon?"
"I can substitute!" 'Caranithilwendiriel' shouted majestically, her voice ringing in the cold air, "My shooting is ten times more accurate than any elf's!"
Ginny buried her face in her hands.
**************************************
This surely had to be hell, thought Legolas as he looked around. These houses were . . . so strange, made of stones so square it was amazing. Everything had a dull neatness to it, and the doors had little decorative panes of glass in. Light was randomly emitted form some.
But the air was so . . . filthy. A slight but continuous odour hung in the air, a faint vapour of burnt things that never seemed to disperse. He sniffed gingerly. There did not seem to be any dangers lurking here, it was far too dull, and besides, the sun was coming up.
Legolas sat down with a resourceful air at the edge of the pavement and waited patiently. He didn't know what for, but there was little else he could do until he could find help of some sorts. At least, when Arien the sun was fully up, he could find his way around easier.
As he rested, he watched a man with a bright shoulder bag and jacket walk down the street. He went to almost every door, not knocking, but taking some wads of paper out of his bag and pushing them into a slot in the wood. What was this person?
A gate creaked open behind him, and he swung around to meet the intruder with superb reflexes. His bow was still in Middle earth, but his long dagger was already half drawn.
Two people were now staring at him: the postman, who had dropped his bag, and Beruthia 'Ruth' Smith. The latter's eyes were a big as a mushroom.
"What the-"
Legolas stared at her. Something stirred in her memory, and then he remembered where he had seen her face. It was the same face he had seen in the portal that was supposed to bring Susie the Lost Star, but brought Ginny instead. Well, it wasn't the exact same face; it was more defined than Susie's, the face rounder, the hair paler and almost red. Could this be his supposed-to-be soul mate's relative?
"Susie?" He whispered the name that had been told to him.
"Dear God," Ruth was whimpering. It didn't take a genius to work out who was standing in front of her right now: he looked not a lot different to Orlando Bloom in the film, "Susie, what have you done?! Mother!! What have you *done*?!"
The woman was babbling, but Legolas put away the offending blade, and walked toward her. She was not as young as he'd first thought; she looked about thirty or forty in mortal appearance, yet there was something about her, something he'd envisioned in the portal. This had to be Susie's mother.
Instead of meeting the acorn, I'm meeting the oak, he thought as he stared. Being from Mirkwood, trees were never far from his mind.
"Elbereth," he murmured in his own tongue of Mirkwood, but she'd heard it. She seemed to understand it. Her brow was knotted, and to his surprise, she was replying in shaky sindarin.
"Is, are . . . you . . . Legolas?" she said in sindarin, her tone quavering. This was the first time she had ever used an elvish tongue for real in her life. LaRose had forced her to learn it from when she was only 6, everyday after school, in preparation for when she ever met an elf. Pointless, it had been, for the last thirty years, since she never went to middle earth to 'claim her destiny' and 'fulfil the prophecy', but now it was finally coming into play.
Why, oh why did it have to be in a situation like this?! She wailed mentally.
"Where are I, who are you? How did I get here? How do I get back?!" the elf cried again harshly in his language, while behind him the postman was positively running for the next street. Ruth processed this in her mind and tried to translate, before attempting to answer.
"I, er, am . . . a friend," she translated, with the help of hand gestures, "My name is Ruth. Um. You are now in new ground . . . er . . . modern earth."
Well, he took that well, she thought.
"And how did I get here?" he asked again. Ruth thought for a moment.
"You'll have to blame my mother and my daughter for that." She said carefully, remembering Elven vocabulary as she went, "You've met my daughter I assume?"
Legolas shook his head.
"Oh." And then the full reality of the situation hit her, " Dear god, I have an elf in my front garden." She murmured, returning to English. Suddenly, her sense of balance evaporated, and she sank down onto the wall, her hand on her forehead. The elf looked on, a worried frown on his face.
And then she was up again seconds later, forcefully pushing the blond, confused elf through the door of her house, all the time muttering,
"Needs clothes, needs to look normal . . . tie hair back to cover ears. Curse you mother. "
"I hope I won't be a problem to you," Legolas said shyly.
"No! Not at all, despite the fact you are a fictitious character of a fictitious race from a fictitious book, currently in what is know as the real world! Well, as far as we know." Her tone was not happy.
Legolas remained silent as she made him 'welcome' in her small, cramped and strangely furnished home, bidding him be quiet for fear of waking her husband. He drank the drink she had made him; It tasted sweet yet bitter - 'tea', she had called - he drank it without objection, and sat quietly on the 'sofa' without dispute. Ruth sighed, satisfied. He was doing well so far. No shock signs at all.
Getting him to wear 'normal' clothes was harder though. He refused to change out of his Mirkwood garb, and complained about the blue canvas breeches that Ruth had found for him. She persisted that he had to look right to avert suspicion, "for no one could find out that Legolas from Lord of the Rings was in the real world". Finally, after much hushed deliberation, he settled on a cotton green T-Shirt and a woolly jumper that belonged to Ruth's husband, and some khaki cords. They were too short and baggy for his tall, lithe frame, but it was a large improvement.
While he was changing, Legolas heard Ruth in the hallway, talking to someone.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks Vicky. I know, it is a bother for you, sorry 'bout that. Just tell them . . . I've got a foreign relative come over, no he can't speak English, that's why I have to help him round, ya know. Yeah, got no money either. Nah, I'm coping ok. Class it under domestic leave, 'k?"
There was a pause.
"Alright, alright, tell them I'll be in tomorrow. Yes, I will. I will! I promise. Okay. Bye then."
And then she came back into the room, putting on her outdoor coat.
"Whom were you speaking to?" he asked suspiciously.
"My friend, my colleague."
He watched her face carefully.
"I heard no other voice." He said suspiciously
"I was on the phone. The telephone. It converts your voice into 'electronic' (just think lightning) signals and transfers them across a grid . . . network to the person you desire to speak to and turns it back into sound. So they hear your voice as if they were talking to you in person."
"I . . . see."
He hesitated.
"We . . . do not have those in Greenwood. I have never heard of such a thing in Middle Earth. But I think someone may invent it if they have the resources in Valinor." He sounded almost resentful.
"That is disputable. Are you going to tie your hair back? No one wears their hair like that here. You'll have to undo those braids if you want to go out." She moved forward to him to tie his hair, but he was quicker, and grasped her wrist firmly, but gently, away from him.
"Please, I will do it myself. Now tell me where we are going." He said, his voice strained.
She freed herself and sighed.
"I'd never thought I'd have to say this again; It was hard enough the first time with Tom . . ." she cleared her throat, "We're going to see my mother."
***
Squeak.
Squeak.
Creak.
"Can't you make that thing be quiet?" Said Susie through her teeth. Ginny coloured and blushed.
"It's not my fault. The snow's made it rust."
"Be quiet, the two of you; you've made it hard enough already." Came the gruff voice of Gandalf, but he gave Susie a condoling smile, at which Ginny scowled. Aragorn and Boromir heard nothing; they were too preoccupied with carrying the hobbits piggyback down the snowy mountain. Ginny could see their breath condensing in the sharp air. Sweat was on their foreheads as they waded through the waist high snow. She bit her lip. She'd had her share or Gandalf's miruvor (which made her wonder why Elrond only gave ONE phial, and to HIM), but the effects were wearing off.
She *had* tried riding through the snow, and the result was that her bicycle was rusting badly. It had been all she could do so that they wouldn't use her violin for fuel when they had run out of wood.
Finally, they were going to get off this goddamn mountain and get on with the plot.
*
"My giddy aunt." Were the first words LaRose spoke when she saw the six- foot elf cross her threshold, followed by her own daughter.
"Nice to see you too mother," hailed Ruth curtly, taking off her coat and shoes as she stepped inside.
"Is that who I think it is?"
Ruth paused.
"Yes."
The elf came forward, and extended a rigid hand, smiling proudly. LaRose stared at it as if it was a slug bathing in salt.
"I taught him to do that." Said Ruth meekly.
"Hallo, ant god dey. How ah you?" spoke the Elf. It was a while before LaRose could close her mouth.
"He's worse than your husband." She said finally, breathless.
"His name is Tom, you know."
LaRose frowned.
"I thought he was Legolas?"
"No, not *him*. Oh never mind. You know why we're here." They went swiftly into the lounge.
"NO. No I don't. I don't know why *you* are here. There is no reason for you to be. But HIM."
As mother and daughter argued, Legolas explored the room. It was small and cramped, like Ruth's house, and smelled faintly of dried flowers. There were numerous ornaments around the side, even a ram's skull, and several rather gruesome paintings. LaRose was not the rocking chair grandmother that knitted. Her mantelpiece was clean bare, save for a few McDonald's Happy Meal toys arranged tidily, and hanging above the mantelpiece on the wall, there was
"How did anyone obtain this?" He spoke in Westron.
It was a sword. A large sword. A large, bright sword, with several large rubies in the hilt. It echoed magic. It was the ultimate symbol to Destiny. And it also happened to belong to Thranduil of Mirkwood.
LaRose looked in his direction, and reddened. She took down the sword before legolas could touch it and then tried to assume a 'There's- absolutely-nothing-behind-my-back' stance. But he had seen it.
"That is my father's sword. It was specially forged for him by the blacksmiths of Esgaroth. He passed it unto me. I own it." He said gravely.
"He said-" Ruth started
"I know what he said!" LaRose cried. She switched to perfect Elvish, and replied haughtily "It is not what it looks like. This sword does not belong to you. It is mine. I acquired this a long time ago, and it has been in this room ever since."
There was a bitter stare between the two, but something more in the eyes of LaRose. Regret. Ruth hesitated, but then took the sword.
"This is not the time. Legolas is in Modern Earth, or haven't you noticed? So what are you going to do about it?" she snapped at her mother, who folded her arms defiantly.
"This is not my fault. Who'd have thought your daughter was so useless. I told you to nurture her; I told you she needed angst to go with it all, but no-o. You've always been so overprotective. How's she going to survive Helm's Deep or Pelennor Fields like that? Silly girl, at least she's there now."
She indicated the stairs
"Don't go up there, she blew up the attic last time she was here. Who'd have thought oyster excretion could have such a dynamic effect?"
