Chapter 14: Methen i Narn

(if I spelled that right, the title of this chapter's pretty important!)

December 4

I finally got to talk to Jan today. I mean, actually talk. Again, it's all thanks to Ben and his obsession with jump-o'er-the-rope. That day, they had enough children so that they didn't need me to turn the rope. Instead, I was ordered to stand back and watch the children show off on an area cleared of snow. Then he (meaning Jan) came out of the workshop and leaned on a fencepost while working on- something, at any rate.

"Hello," he said rather casually. I wasn't expecting it, however, so I was startled.

"Oh, hello," I responded. "I didn't notice you." Big fat lie number one.

He shrugged. "It is curious that you should have learned to play the fiddle." It was a question, not a statement.

So I came up with a partially true answer. "My father had no sons to teach, but he had a fiddle and a daughter."

"Oh. And why did you come here? You are not from the area."

"Dale." Big fat lie number two. "Things were not safe in the East when I left there." Big fat lie number three.

"But how did you arrive here?"

"My entire family was traveling to Rohan. Then orcs attacked from the south on the way. I don't know whether anyone else survived or not; it is possible. Then I found a road that took me here." Big fat lies numbers four, five, and six (I wasn't traveling to Rohan with my family, orcs attacked from the east, and I didn't find the road).

"That must have been terrible."

"Indeed."

Thus the extent of conversation. After this, someone mercifully got tangled in the rope, and I had to undo it, then Ben and I had to go home.

December 10

I just thought of something: Jan doesn't have a Bree accent. Judging from what I've heard, he's Gondorian, and not low class. That's suspicious to say the least, which makes me realize how suspicious I am. People have got to be suspicious. Maybe I should have stayed in Gondor after all.

Or not. The freedom here is great.

Oh, and it's really cold here. I guess I'm picking up on the farmer-talk. Pretty much everyone here cares about farming. And temperatures are important.

January 20

Ben hid this book under his mattress for over a month (for reasons unexplained), so this is the first time I've been able to write for a while. I could say everything, but here's a quick summary: I'm still undiscovered (relatively), Ben still hasn't managed to kill himself, and I've talked with Jan a lot. Haven't discovered where he's from yet, but a hint: he has a knife with tengwar script on it. It wasn't written in a mode I could read, so what it says is beyond me.

I do believe the ink in the pen is freezing. I will return when it thaws out.

March 15

Oh. My. God. It's happened again! AGAIN, I TELL YOU! What did I do to deserve this? Come on, doesn't Middle-earth need more men than women now? And why do they have to be imported from other dimensions? This is just TOO MUCH! And this time, it was the sugar-loving-white-water-rafting-blonde-at-heart-friend. Not the are-you-crazy-I-will-not-wear-that-skirt-or-any-form-thereof-friend or the fire-is-your-best-friend-friend (that sounds weird) or even the I-love-General-Grievous-friend. They were already here, so I guess Aerin was down to the bottom of the barrel.

I was with Ben, trying to keep him from drowning himself in the river by giving him swimming lessons. He has nearly drowned twice, and I luckily follow him like a shadow when he goes out. I mean, I can work during the night sewing up seams. I don't have to really sleep that much, and I can see unless it's a new moon. Valar bless my night vision. But that's not the point. All of a sudden a bright yellow shape came rushing down the river, only to get stuck on a rock. I was wondering what in Utumno this was until the shape let out a yell, "I went POOF!"

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Lisa. The blondest person with out-of-control-curly red hair. No offence to her, but she is scatterbrained. But she's not dumb; she does really well in school. She, like I, simply never got her common sense ration when whoever designed us gave it out. That's probably why we found each other in preschool, and have annoyed the sensible world since.

"What's that, Miss Ellie?" asked Ben. He always insisted on the "miss" part; I don't know why.

"Ben, trust me, it is best that you not know. But now, you must run home and tell your aunt that Ellie met someone she knew at the river. Can you do that?" He nodded and raced off towards Bree. Meanwhile, I continued to wade towards Lisa and her lifejacket, which was the yellow thing.

"Lisa!" I said, trying to get her attention.

She turned around, and it took a second for her to recognize me. "Sikkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" she screamed, and gave me a big hug. Needless to say, I was soaked at this point.

"Umm..."

"Oh." For some reason, whenever we meet, we have to strangle one another. It's the unbreakable rule. But this time was different. "Wait, you're not Sikki. She doesn't have curly hair. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE REAL SIKKI?"

"Lisa," I said. "Calm down. Do I have to prove who I am? And it's been Runa ever since I got tired of those people making jokes about me being ill all the time." She put on her stubborn face. I sighed, "All right. We met each other in preschool, didn't see each other for ten years, met at an All-State, and our English teacher thought we're joined at the hip."

Lisa immediately brightened. "It's you! YAY!" I swore some birds fled from the area, but I couldn't verify it.

"Okay, glad you could join us. You're the fifth to arrive; so far, it's been me, Mhera, Hope, and Milla. It's after the War by over a year. Hope's in the Shire, Milla should be in Dol Amroth, Mhera's in Edoras or thereabouts, and I'm here in Bree. Mhera and I were turned into elves, Milla's a shapeshifter, and Hope's a hobbit. First order of business is to find out what you are. Oh, and the name's Ellie here. And I think that's it."

"Wha?" Lisa said, her face the picture of confusion. I said everything again and elaborated as I helped her wring out her mass of red curls, which took nigh on forever, and for us both to dry out.

"Ya know," Lisa said as a bee landed gently on her hand, "I think this insect just said something to me."

"Okay, that explains a lot." In Middle-earth there was one species that could manage not to get stung by bees, and those were the Beornings, the only remnants of the Shapeshifters. So she is somehow related to Milla now. Lovely.

--

Oh, we just found out she can turn into a hawk. She flew off this evening after a meal to go to the Beornings, since there is no way she could live here- there are no jobs, or game, in winter, and she should be with her own kind (she's that sort of person). I miss her, even though it's only about an hour. After all, we have known each other since toddlerhood. Life is cruel.

March 24

It's right before planting season, and time for a new tradition (to me, anyways). Apparently, right before the difficult planting season, there's a sort of a holiday where people exchange the little trinkets that they made to prevent insanity while they were cooped up during the winter. I gave Mistress Hedge a scarf I embroidered and Ben got a rag doll with a little cloth helmet and a shirt that could pass for chain mail in color and texture. I gave Jan a handkerchief-sized piece of a fine weave cloth to clean his fiddle strings with (it was a handkerchief- one I learned to hem on back in Gondor, and all the cloth here is really coarse-woven). Mistress Hedge gave me a hair kerchief, and Ben gave me a button he painted for one of my "fwogs". Then Mistress Hedge handed me a palm-sized bundle wrapped in a piece of tattered wool fabric.

"Who's it from?" I asked.

Mistress Hedge put a finger to the side of her nose and smiled. "I'm not supposed ta be tellin' ya. Jus' open it; I've been wantin' to know what's in there for ages!"

I opened it carefully and revealed two wooden combs- the type you keep in your hair to keep it back. But these weren't at all like the tortoiseshell plastic ones my mom let me use; these were straightoothed and they were carved with delicate leaves. I looked to Mistress Hedge. "Is there something about a gift of combs that I should know about?"

"No," she said, smiling smugly. I sighed, but caught a little mutter that sounded like, "just something about a gift so special." I decided not to press it. I probably didn't want to know.

March 28

My pen is leaking and splattering ink everywhere. This'll be the last thing I write. Farewell.

But one last note:

I think I am in love with Jan. And I think he's one of the Dúnedain. And I think it was he who sent me the combs.

METTA

METHEN

For all you who don't speak Numenorean or Quenya... END

Reviewer Responses:

FallenTruth: But old-fashioned nursery-rhymes are BORING! Those kids deserve better than that for all I've put them through. Also, Glorfindel rocks! He needs fangirls more than that "stupid moriquendi git" does (that's from "The Scruff Factor" by jo slater)! As far as the love intrest goes, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you? But you'll be getting an outside perspective. And are right: I hate buttonholes with a passion! I had to do them on all the boy's vests in the summer musical. Harumph. That's what they do to extras! For winning, I would give you some German chocolate cake, but then you'd have to start jogging to lose all the weight I've made you gain. How about some celery instead? Mmmm, fiber!

angeltread: Yes! I'm not the only person who reads those books! HOORAY! And I don't think I'll be storming Barad-dur anytime soon. Mordor's grown on me, and that Watcher is really friendly once you get to know her. Yes, HER. Tolkien never gave us a gender, did he? And so many of the cool creatures are male.

Crecy: As do we all, as do we all.

lior-a: Wow, cookie wishing actually works! And no one's taking my carpenter. MINE!

Even though this story's over, please review! I take 'em late! I take 'em anonymous! If I get enough, I might just move a book seller to Coomb, complete with diaries and pens.