Chapter Three: Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part Three

An unearthly, grating, annoyingly high-pitched noise woke Eldarion up from a dream he'd been having about a purple-haired Eowyn throwing mirrors around while he rode in a car being driven tag-team by Andre and Ruki. This sound repeated itself multiple times, and as he looked groggily around he realized it was coming from a little box with glowing numbers on it sitting on the table next to his bed. He picked it up and shook it, noting that it was tethered to the wall for some reason. Yanking on the rope, he threw the whole contraption across the room, where it hit a door in the far wall with a loud thud. The disturbing noise, however, stopped. What, he asked himself, was that all about? He got out of bed and walked across the room the examine the box more closely. Picking it up and turning it over in his hands, he pressed its multiple buttons to no effects. The luminous numbers on the side had disappeared, too.

As Eldarion stood there puzzling, his mother opened the door on the other side of his room and peered in, turning on the lights by flipping the switch. "Are you all right? What was that noise?…Why are you holding the clock?"

"It was annoying me. It woke me up." Eldarion put it back on the little table. Arwen smiled a little patronizingly. "Ha ha, Mr. Sleepy. Get dressed for school, now. Unless….you'd rather not go today? Your father and I will understand if you want to just stay home and explain what's wrong."

Everything's wrong, thought Eldarion, and there is nothing in the world I would love more than to have stayed home. He was tempted to accept her offer and explain everything, to say that she wasn't really his mother, that his mother was in at least another country if not another world altogether, but a new thought struck him and he refrained from speaking. This Arwen and Aragorn also apparently had a son named Eldarion who looked exactly like him. Where was that Eldarion? Still roaming the streets, run away from home? Or even…he got a chill as he imagined someone else flying out of the Mirror and into Middle-earth, someone from this world of cars and noises and millions of depressable buttons. He couldn't say who he was without an explanation of where the other Eldarion had gotten to. These people thought they had their son back. And…it would still look like his parents, grieving and worrying about some other child. He couldn't cause his parents pain, not on this or any other world. So. He would play the part., and go wherever Eldarion Telcontar the native English-speaker went this time of day…this ridiculously early time of day, he added, noting how little sun was peering in through the strange, horizontally slitted drapes. And while he acted, he would search for the other Eldarion and also for any clues or methods for getting himself home. Although he didn't want to admit it, there was a small part of himself that was looking forward to seeing more of this world. He was stuck here for now; he might as well learn as much as he could. And as unfamiliar and unfriendly as this place sometimes felt, even his most grounded side had to admit it was a lot more interesting than Lothlorien. Once he got used to it, it might even be fun. He'd wanted something to happen and gotten his wish; it would be stupid not to take advantage of it.

He smiled at Arwen. "I'll go to school."

"You're not wearing that, are you?" asked his father as Eldarion entered what he took to be the eating area, still clad in his Gondorian tunic and pants. "Where did you get those, anyway?"

"I couldn't find anything else," Eldarion replied, assessing the kitchen and concluding meals here were self-serve. For the first time, he was truly sorry he'd been raised in a castle: he didn't know how to cook. Servants had done most of the work, and Eldarion had been taught to appreciate that, but he had never before taken it to the level of his feeling inferior. Now he found himself surrounded by pots and pans and feeling very stupid and ignorant indeed.

"Couldn't…you've got a whole closet," Aragorn responded, spreading what Eldarion recognized as butter from a tub onto a piece of toasted white bread. "Go back upstairs and pick something out. I'll pour some cereal while you change." Thankful that at least it sounded like his food problem had been solved, Eldarion made his way back to "his" room in search of new clothing. No chests of drawers were to be found. Finally he thought to open the door against which he had flung the clock and discovered many articles of clothing within. He selected a pair of blue trousers, pulling them on over his Middle-earth underclothes, red-and-purple shoes with soles made of some unidentifiable substance, and two shirts, a long-sleeved one and a short-sleeved one, wearing the latter like a tunic even though its hemline was shorter. Pulling his necklace out from under the collars, he turned around and discovered there was a mirror hanging on the wall that he'd overlooked before. Walking up to it, he assessed his reflection: a tall, pale, slender boy with rumpled chin-length brown hair, a small, slightly upturned nose, full lips, and large clear blue-grey eyes, wearing a sparkling white-silver pendant on a fine chain around his neck. That much was familiar; that much was the half-elf prince he knew, the boy with (he tucked his hair behind his ears for an instant, then shook it free) one ear pointed and the other rounded. That was the face he'd seen just before this whole thing had started. But in the clothes of this world, he looked just like Andre had, and Ruki, and his parents, and their parents: a part of this world, colorful and bizarre. He smiled wryly and touched the mirror, hoping absently that his hand would somehow slip through the surface and he'd be pulled back to the clearing in Lothlorien where he'd stood less than a day ago. Nothing happened, his fingers met the hard cool surface only, so he sighed and went back downstairs.

"Took you long enough," his father said as Eldarion reentered the kitchen and sat down in front of a bowl filled with the strangest, brightest food he'd ever seen. "What, did you get tangled up in your pants or something?"

"What exactly is this?" asked Eldarion, poking the surface of the food with his spoon. "Cold soup?"

"Come again?" asked Aragorn.

Eldarion realized this man's son probably knew exactly what the rainbow pellets floating in the white liquid was, so when he next opened his mouth it was just to stick a spoonful in. The food was almost unbearably sweet. Gagging, Eldarion forced himself to eat the whole thing. If it looks unnatural, it'll taste unnatural, he decided. I have to remember that.

He sat back in his chair as Arwen rushed in. "Eldarion? You're still here?...The bus is coming any minute! Here, quick, take your bookbag!" She thrust at him a large orange parcel closed by a strip of interlocking metal strips with a slider attached. He hoisted it onto his back. His mother and father both embraced him, Arwen kissing him on the cheek. "Have a good day," she told him as he opened the front door.

"I will," Eldarion replied, hoping he wasn't lying and looking out the door. Once he stepped out into that world, there was no telling what would happen to him. He was lost in a world with several parallels to his own, but nothing quite correct, with technology and materials very different from what he was used to. The customs were different, too…so was the language and the alphabet as well, he realized, looking at the runes on the "Stoneland" sign; even though he could read it he'd never seen those symbols before. There was no way he could possibly blend in perfectly, maybe even not at all.

Suddenly his fear dissolved, as he stood there on the threshold of the unknown. Somewhere out there was danger, it was true. There were things he'd never seen before and inventions that would surprise him. But there were also people like Ruki and Andre and his English-speaking parents: people who were willing to help him and put up with his ignorance. And all of the new and different aspects didn't have to be frightening; they were exciting, too. He was eager to see what other useful and fun things, like the car, this place had to offer.

His hand slid to his necklace, the Elven artifact he always wore, a gift from his mother. As long as he had this, he figured, his home would never leave him.

He squeezed it once, tightly, then took a deep breath and stepped.

a/n: Hi everyone! I'm back. Sorry it took so long; I had a lot of schoolwork and then my uploading privileges were temporarily suspended because I broke a rule by posting a script (my musical, which has since been removed and now resides elsewhere; see my bio for address…)

Yeah, so I have some reviews now! Hooray! Here are my responses:

Mirowood: Hey man…sorry about all the Silmarillion lectures over the phone. Hope you like this chapter as much as I liked your last one. And I swear I will stop writing you anonymous reviews when I want to tell you something. Next time I'll call!

BanbieBunny: Thanks for the hair color info! I really need to research the First Age more…I've read the Silmarillion three times and Unfinished Tales twice, but, um, yeah, there's more stuff out there I need to get my hands on. And your story is just so wonderful…I love it when people use the "Gap" joke…Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story. Yours was one of my inspirations to write this.

Neld: Alright, another Feanorion fan! Don't worry, the whole gang will be showing up soon…in fact, they've already been mentioned. Hint: It was in Chapter One. Yes, I have BIG plans for everyone's favorite psychopathic family…electric guitars and gothic clothing and art class and freak factory accidents…it's all good.

Yael3000: Are you who I think you are? If so…I would love to make this a book but for right now it's just a binder. Which you've seen. Is your story typed yet? (If you're not who I think you are…wow this is a small world. I'm really glad you liked my story and continue to read it…cause it's going to get weirder. Funnier? I can't tell….but I can tell you right now Eldarion is developing this tactless streak that gets him into all sorts of scrapes…he may not think they're funny but I do. Poor kid.)

Hope everybody has been having a good spring…I don't know about where you all live, but it's still COLD in my town! I hate living in one of the Most Overcast Cities in America. (Guess where I live and…get something. I don't know what yet. Faramir's car, maybe. He drives a Subaru Legacy.) (Mirowood, you can't guess. You know.) (same for yael3000)

See y'all in Chapter Four, the first one of my next song title…Eldarion meets the unluckiest boy in the world whose father isn't Feanor…and he figures out how a locker works. Yay for him.