The loud, annoyed buzzing of an alarm clock heralded the new day and Trisha's head rose, then dropped back onto her floral print pillow. She muttered something sleepily and switched the alarm clock off then rolled onto her back, willing herself back to sleep. Her mom would wake her up when it was time to...

Suddenly, she remembered why she had set her alarm. Her eyes flew open with a snap and she sat bolt upright, jumping out of bed and rubbing her eyes. She had forgotten about... her shoulders slumped and she looked around her room. It all seemed so... normal. Light filtering in through the two windows, discarded clothes and random bits of junk strewn around on the floor, desk, dresser, etc, a large yellow dog standing at the door... She patted her bed and Tompkins bounded up, nuzzling her shoulder and giving her face a few good licks.

Trisha placed her arm around the dog and her shoulders slumped. "Guess it was all a dream, eh Tomps?" she asked rhetorically; in answer, Tompkins whimpered and held his paw up, which Trisha took. "Aww, this is a very nice paw. Thank you." She sighed. "But what if it had happened, Tomps? What if I really had found Maglor? Ehehe, maybe it would be like fanfic and he would fall madly in love with me and we'd, er, get married and... That would be great..." She pouted and sank back onto the bed, and Tompkins scooted forward and licked her face. After several seconds there were footsteps in the hallway and her mom walked in.

"Well then, it's a school day, but at least your 'elf' didn't kill us in our sleep. What are you going to do about school? I won't let you pretend to be sick, just so you know."

Trisha's eyes widened to frightening proportions and she pinched herself furiously and yelped. "Ouch! That rules out dreaming. Y... er, you mean it really happened? Oh my Eru, Tompkins! It really happened!!" She grabbed the dog's muzzle and blew on it jubilantly. The yellow lab jerked back, startled, and jumped off the bed. "I KNEW it!" she finished exuberantly.

"Of course it happened," continued her mom. "It happened. You brought home some tramp you met on that freezing, rocky beach, dragged him home and SOMEHOW convinced your father and me to let him stay, all the while insisting he's the fictional son of some fictional elf. Why can't you just want a pony like normal girls your age?" she asked resignedly, idly tossing a candy bar wrapper into the already overflowing garbage can. Tompkins whined and stuck his nose in the garbage and snuffled around a bit, then sneezed loudly.

Trisha laughed. "That beach is cool! Anyway, who wants a pony when you could have an elf? Sewiously folks, they're perfect!" Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "Probably built like horses, too..." she speculated.

Her mother looked shocked. "Trisha!" she exclaimed, glaring at her daughter.

"What? Just an honest guess," Trisha shrugged and stood up, throwing on an oversized t-shirt over her camisole. "Anyway, I'll probably get the chance to find out."

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Penelope, placing her hands firmly on her hips and staring at Trisha. She giggled.

"Well, this obviously couldn't happen in real life. Therefore, that must mean one of two things: First, I could be dreaming. Unlikely," she added, rubbing the welt on her arm from where she had pinched herself. "Second, this is actually a piece of fan fiction. Any time an elf shows up and a teenage girl is the first to discover him, he's doomed to fall hopelessly in love with her. It's just the way these things work!" she finished brightly, then paused. "Then again, he usually knows perfect English already and is trusting of the heroine to a fault, and is usually Legolas..." she mused.

Her mother lowered her hands. "Just... get ready, will you?" It was a command, not a question; Trisha slipped on some shoes over her grey pajama pants and dragged her backpack into the kitchen. Maglor was sitting there gazing at her intensely, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

She dumped her backpack on the floor in front of her chair and then poured herself some cereal, eating it dry. "But really, mom, you didn't need to make him sleep outside! ...er, not that he slept anyway, but still. Weren't you afraid the neighbors would give you strange looks or something?"

"Well, I wasn't going to let him sleep in here," she stated matter-of-factly, and Trisha knew that it was pointless to argue.

She slumped into the chair and chewed a spoonful of cereal thoughtfully. Halfway through she coughed loudly and sat up. "I have an idea!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, swallowing the cereal hastily. "Mom, I know. All I have to do is get him to sing and you'll believe me. Elven minstrels... well... when Finrod encountered the first humans, he sang for them, and not only was it really pretty but they could literally like see visions of what was going on in the song! And they understood him. Or, some of them did. To a greater or lesser extent depending on how smart they are. Were. And then in Fellowship, Frodo meets the Elves who are singing and he could understand their song about Elbereth, and then when..."

"Trisha, that's enough," interjected her mother. "I get the idea. How do you propose to do it?"

"Er, maybe... uh... we... Oi! Dictionary!"

Maglor watched in silence as Trisha approached him, fighting the terrible urge to cower in front of him. He was so... intimidating... She winced and studied the dictionary, more to have something to do than because it was particularly difficult to navigate. After several seconds, she recovered her composure and looked up.

"Uh... Lirin? Lindo? I... uh, don't know which word it is. Lirin... Lindë? Sing?" she asked, not daring to watch his response.

"þing..." he repeated slowly, then glared at the refrigerator. He looked angry, bitter, sad...

Trisha felt a wave of pity for him and mentally kicked herself. "No; sing," said her mom; Trisha didn't reserve herself to mental kicking this time. Her mother rounded on her. "TRISHA!" she exclaimed, practically towering over her smaller daughter. Trisha squeaked an apology.

"Don't make him mad! Or disrespect him or whatev... uh... Er, mom, he's supposed to talk like that... His dad taught he and his brothers-"

"Him and his brothers," corrected Penelope. Trisha shrugged.

"Whatever. Anyway, Fëanor thought it was the right way to talk."

"Patricia Katherine Black, that is no reason to kick your mother. He doesn't even look offended. I am going to drive you to school now and you are going to go WITHOUT FUSS, and while you are there you are going to seriously think about how lucky you are that I'm putting up this well with this nonsense!" She grabbed her keys angrily and stalked towards the door, leaving nothing for Trisha to do but try and forget her disappointment and follow. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.