Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the locales, characters, races, etc. detailed in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and the Hobbit by JRR Tolkien. My use of them is strictly for entertainment purposes.
Every movie, legend, story, book, novel, poem, etc., is the mirror of an alternate universe. The imagination is an extra-sensory perception of alternate realities, and stories and poems are the way that we allow others to have a glimpse of this alternate reality. Time spans can and will be different, as many as a hundred years can pass in another reality in the same time span as a second in this reality. Likewise, a hundred years in this reality could be as little as a second in another. It is we—the dreamers and writers, the bards, who open these portals to others. Come; see how real the portal can be.
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Kidnapped?
It seemed like it was just another ordinary Friday, and to me, it was. I had spent the night at Isabel's, and Tiffany was joining us at the movies. It was a beautiful summer day, I was going to get my license, and the three of us were having a mega-slumber party. Life was looking good.
Tiffany met us at the Palace. We decided on a showing of Finding Nemo and headed in. We tried scoping out cute guys in the concession line, but there weren't any. Unfortunately.
After the movie was over, my brother picked us up. We had some time to kill before my appointment at the DMV, so we decided to drive around a bit in his new car. Alex had gotten it for his eighteenth birthday.
"Hey sis, is it okay if we make a stop? I need to pick up some books for my research paper at the library," he said, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Not a problem, it's not like we have anything to do yet anyway," I said, the girls nodding confirmation to me from the backseat.
The library was mostly empty. Alex disappeared into the history section, a notepad under one arm and a list of books in his hand. Slightly impatient (I was sixteen that day, and couldn't wait for my license), I paced up and down the aisles. Isabel and Tiffany were fooling around on one of the computers, playing pong or something like that, but to me, the chance to wander the stacks and breath in the scent of books was a great way to relax. I was too uptight, and I didn't want it to wreck my chances.
Stretching, one volume caught my eye. On tiptoe, I pulled the offending item off of the second highest shelf. It was a large—scratch that, massive—brown, and very dusty leather-bound book. It had been sticking a third of the way out into the aisle; dangerous, that was.
"Whatcha doing, Nuala?" Isabel asked, glancing up from the computer as I sank into the couch next to the desk. "What are you looking at?"
"This curious old book. It's like it hasn't been touched in years." My fingers were leaving smudges on the grimy cover.
"Hey, what is it guys?" Ever-curious Tiffany joined us, the girls on either side of me, purses in our laps. I tightly grasped the book by one corner, feeling the grime slide under my fingers, and pulled it open. The three of us stared at the page; there were no words on it, only a picture of a forest that started to swirl and dip like an over-active screensaver until it was a miasma of color. I glanced up to see that the bookstore had become a bunch of swirling colors.
"What the he-"
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I carefully opened my eyes, but it didn't make any difference. It was so dark that at first I thought I had gone blind. As my eyes gradually got use to the night sky—the stars were a big clue there—I was able to pick out the shapes of my purse and the tree behind me. There were more trees surrounding me. Clearly, I was in a forest, but how did I end up there? The last thing I remembered was the library.
I stood up and glanced around, searching for my friends. I could barely make out their forms leaned against a tree about a hundred yards away. It seemed as though they were still unconscious. Purse in hand, I started to make my way over to them, my feet crunching in the stillness of the wood. My own noise spooked me, and I took lighter, more cautious steps as I made my way through the darkened woods.
I was maybe twenty yards away when I stopped. There was a man standing guard over them, sword in hand. Why not a gun, I didn't know, but I was going to find out. I was starting to move again when I felt a light tap on my shoulder—a tap that sent my heart into my shoes. I froze like a deer in the headlights. I slowly turned around, stopped dead in my tracks.
It wasn't the tall, muscular figure, the long blonde hair, or even the arrow aimed right at my heart; no, it was the fact that this particular man had pointed ears. Pointy Ears? Maybe I'd taken a blow to the head, that's why I didn't remember how I got here. That made these guys…kidnappers? .
Anyway, he marched me the rest of the way to my friends. He obviously knew the other man well, because he moved forward and they talked in a quite beautiful foreign language. I was mad and scared; two grown men were holding my friends and me captive, and who knew what they wanted. They could be white slavers for all I knew.
Finally, my anger got the better of my fear and I lashed out at them. "Excuse me, mister kidnappers, but would you mind letting us go? Whatever you want, you won't get it, so this is a waste of your time. And speak English, damn it!"
"Nuala, stop shouting! My head is killing me!" a whiny voice with just a hint of command floated from behind them.
"Oops! Sorry, Isabel," I apologized as I rushed over and helped her to her feet.
"Humph! Well, I forgive you this time," she said condescendingly. "Ooo! Who are these cute guys you've met?"
"Cute? You're calling our captors cute? You must've been clubbed over the head harder than me."
Just then the blonde spoke. "Excuse me, but we are not kidnappers. We merely found you here. Who are you, and why are you trespassing here in elvish lands?"
"Easy for you to say, kidnapper, but I won't be tricked that easily. Besides, you were listening just now, surely you can call us by the names you heard," I said haughtily, drawing myself up to my full height. Which wasn't much—only 5'2", curse my Irish ancestors—and glared at him. His companion did not share his penchant for costume makeup apparently, for he did not sport elf-like ears. "Wait a minute—Elvish lands?"
"Yes, you are in an elfhome now!" the dark-haired one said emphatically, not lowering his sword.
"Huh?" I asked.
"No!" Isabel cried imperiously. "There's no need for this nonsense! No—no nonsense!"
"What the heck is an elfhome? Is that like a retirement center for Santa's workers?" They just stared at me. Obviously kidnappers didn't have a sense of humor, because they didn't look entertained. They looked…confused. Exasperated, I stamped my foot. "Just where do you plan on taking us, anyway?"
"To the Lord Celeborn and his lady, Galadriel," the dark one said in way of explanation—that is to say, no explanation whatsoever. Lord and lady? What was this, the high middle ages?
Isabel sniffed at them. "Well, obviously we're going to somebody important, then, Nuala," she mumbled to me. "Should we make a break for it."
"I don't think that's a good idea; they're taller and look athletic; even if we go different directions, they'll catch us. Besides, we can't run and carry Tiffany. I guess we better go with them," I muttered back under my breath.
"Don't make it pleasant for them."
"Oh, I won't," I said, glaring at the blonde again.
"You make a valid point to your friend," he said in response. "What you did not mention was that few could outrun an elf or a Dunedain. A wise decision."
I blushed. "You…you heard?"
"Every word, he said, stepping in close and leaning down to look me straight in the eyes. "I have very keen senses. You would not be able to talk low enough to conceal it from me, not at a hundred paces."
Smack!
Impulsively, I slapped him, nails curling in for the landing to leave deep furrows on his cheek and ear. Good makeup, even the tip of it was bleeding. Bleeding? Prosthetics don't bleed…