Elizabeth: NOOOOOOO!
Hannah: We must... we must. cries
Elizabeth: Yes, it's true...
Hannah: We...
Elizabeth: ...don't...
Hannah: ...own...
Elizabeth: sob Middle Earth.
Chapter Two: Proof
Hannah's POV:
The supposed Elrohir shrugged. "One... one. Umm... One. We are elves. Two-"
"Yeah, sure. You're elves. Prove it," I said. He turned to face the other dude. About this time Elizabeth had grabbed some clothes and fled to the bathroom.
"Would showing you our skills in archery convince you?" asked "Elladan". I snorted. "Yeah, shoot in the dark. You'd probably hit Patrick. Besides, the only reason why your ears are pointy is because you had plastic surgery."
"What's plastic surgery?" asked "Elrohir". "Elladan" shrugged. "Who's Patrick?"
"Our dog," I snapped. I then noticed the bags that they were carrying. "What's in there?"
"Survival tools, and other odds and ends," he said, waving his hand dismissingly. Then his face brightened. "Hey! If we shot in the dark at a target and hit it, would you believe us?"
"Maybe," I said dubiously. Just then, Elizabeth came in. I was wearing pyjama pants so I didn't have to change. We went outside, and I pointed at a telephone post far away. "Could you hit that?" "Elrohir" pulled out his bow and tested it. "With ease."
The next thing I knew, an arrow fletched with blue feathers was quivering in the telephone pole.
I blinked rapidly. "Uh...um...that could have been a lucky shot," I stammered.
"Elladan" whipped out his bow and before I could blink again another arrow thudded into the telephone pole right above the first.
Elizabeth and I turned and slowly faced each other. She raised her eyebrows at me.
"Some LotR freaks are perfectly capable of archery lessons," I whispered.
"So how else can we test them?" asked Elizabeth.
I shrugged. "First off we have to get their arrows out of that telephone pole." We walked across the street, and I tugged on an arrow.
It didn't even wiggle.
I yanked on it, and nothing happened. Elizabeth tried. Nada. "Elladan" walked over and yanked them out.
"Let's see if they can control Patrick and Pierre," Elizabeth and I whispered to each other at the same time. We burst out into giggles.
"Ok, buckoes. You may have been able to do that one, but this doesn't depend on you. Well, sorta. Go into the yard, and we'll see how Patrick likes you," I said, climbing over the fence. Patrick ran up and leaped at my face, trying to cover me in sloppy kisses. He ran up to "Elladan" and "Elrohir" and ran around in circles, wagging his tail.
"Tell him to sit," said Elizabeth. "Elrohir" said something in another language- elvish, presumably- and Patrick sat.
"Roll over?" I suggested weakly. "Elladan" whispered something to Patrick, and he rolled over. We had never taught him how to do that.
"Well... I guess this means you really are elves," I said with my eyes wide. "Now what?"
"It's ten o'clock. Mama will be home in forty-five minutes," said Elizabeth, turning her watch on. "We need to find a place to hide you two before she comes home."
"Just a shelter would be fine," said Elladan, glancing at the dog house. I had a mental image of an elf, folded up double while a dog licked his face, and shook my head.
Elrohir glanced at the fort. I shook my head. "Sooner or later someone would find you... I know of a place in the woods."
Elizabeth nodded. We crossed the street, and with the help of Elladan's torch, we made our way to the Spastic Spatulas Clubhouse.
Our friends had helped us make it, and eventually, we had piled up walls of sticks and bracken. An old crate side made a door, and there was a small hole dug in the middle. Elladan began to ring it with stones. Elrohir looked around. "Not exactly first-class accomodations, but we're used to it. Who made it?"
"We and our friends," I explained. Elladan dumped some wood in the hole and lit it with his torch. "This place is fine to stay in."
We waved goodbye walked back to our house. I whispered to Elizabeth, "I wonder if I could convince them to teach us archery."
"Maybe," said Elizabeth, and fell asleep. I lay awake for a while, thinking about the day's events.
A/N: Bwahaha! The Spastic Spatulas Clubhouse really exists!