Chapter 9

He has WHAT?

Sarah couldn't believe her luck. On the way back from the store, carrying a gallon of milk for appearances sake, Legolas had come out just as the bus stopped. She changed directions to follow him, hoping she had managed to be nonchalant, and settled down at the opposite end of the bus.

She thought her luck had run out when he stayed on the bus past the businesses and into another residential area: she wouldn't be finding out where he worked. However, this was one of the nicest areas, and she decided she could at least find out a little about him. Maybe he'd even let his hair show.

Although Sarah was homeschooled, she could read emotions just fine, and it didn't take a psychologist to tell Legolas was very nervous about something. Plenty of seats waited empty, but he didn't take one, he just stood next to the door and fidgeted. She noticed he didn't use his hands to steady himself; even when the bus swerved hard to the left or the right he kept his balance. It seemed not to even take up any of his thought-- he just did it.

He leapt out of the bus the moment it reached his stop, and Sarah followed more cautiously. He walked, somewhat jerkily she thought, through a few blocks until he reached a small house with a number of cars parked out front. Number 92, Chestnut Circle. Sarah noted absently that this street actually had chestnut trees on it, unlike most tree-named streets. Probably a sign of how well-off the residents were.

Across from the house was a small park. More of an intention than a reality, the bench it contained took up almost its entirety. Sarah settled down on the bench and pulled out her notebook. She was determined not to attract attention this time, and so she turned carefully away from the door of the house. Three more cars arrived while she sat there, and she resisted the urge to record their licence plate numbers, settling instead for covertly watching the drivers as they entered the house.

Strangely enough, they also seemed nervous. More than that, they were just as incredibly good-looking and graceful as Legolas. Perhaps they were a special clique of, say, gymnasts. Sarah let her mind wander down that vein, and she almost decided this was a secret meeting for determining the American competitors in the 2004 Olympics. When nothing was still happening, she began doodling in her notebook; after a few minutes, she was chagrined to find she had doodled a rather inept picture of Legolas, and flipped to her story in the back of the book. Just then, the door opened again, and she snapped her head up.

An incredibly beautiful woman walked out. Another similarity Sarah noticed-- she was wearing a hat. She walked off down the sidewalk as more people filed out of the house, some to walk away, most to take a car. They all seemed very subdued, and Sarah wondered if they could be the ones who weren't chosen. They also all wore hats. After a pause, a dignified-looking man came out, with somewhat of a pompous look-- maybe he's the coach!-- and drove away in the last remaining car.

She waited a few more minutes, then Legolas walked out the door. He had his hat in his hands, and he looked more than subdued, he looked depressed. He stood on the doorstep, turning his hat over and over, and Sarah noted his hair-- dark brown-- his eyes-- deep green-- and his ears-- sticking out -- before the door behind him slammed shut. He jerked, glanced guiltily around, and walked down the path, slipping his hat on as he did so. Sarah turned back to her notebook to record her new information, but stole one last look as he walked past her.

He hadn't put on his hat very well this time, and his left ear showed. A strange sort of cold buzzing settled somewhere in her chest as she noticed his ear was pointed.

She sat motionless, in shock, until she realized he had walked away, and she needed him so she could find the bus again. He seemed too self-absorbed to have noticed her, and she didn't worry. She had more important things to think about, anyway. How could he have pointy ears? They looked real, but that was impossible. She jumped up and tailed him back to the bus stop.

As she climbed into the bus, Sarah calmed down and began to reason. No-one had pointy ears. So his ears were not real. Either she had imagined them-- she took another look as soon as she got the chance, and nope, the point was still there. So she hadn't imagined them.

Therefore, he was wearing the ears. She knew there were some weird clubs and whatnot; this one apparently all wore hats and were very graceful. Perhaps putting on pointy ears was part of the doctrine, crazy as it sounded... or, she giggled to herself, perhaps he dressed up as an Elf or a Vulcan a while ago and used the wrong glue. Maybe he'd gotten himself permanently pointy ears!

Whatever the reason, that was certainly a distinguishing characteristic. She proudly scribbled that down in her notebook; all was going well. Then a voice broke in on her.

"So, how interesting am I?"