Hannah went to the hospital at her usual time the next afternoon and made her way down the corridors to Amondaur's room. Mark met her outside his door.

"How is he today?" she asked, concerned.

Mark shook his head. "Hard to say, really. He is certainly not as agitated as he was before, but I'm worried about him. He hasn't eaten as much as usual since yesterday afternoon. Depression is often a symptom of schizophrenia, but I think this may be brought on by the discussion we had with him yesterday." He paused. "I'm beginning to think that was a very bad idea."

Hannah nodded in silent agreement. She had been worried about the same thing ever since she had taken leave of Amondaur the day before. "Is he still angry?"

"No, quite the opposite," Mark said emphatically. "He—well, you can see for yourself," he said, gesturing to the door.

Hannah knocked, and Amondaur called, "Come in."

She opened the door a crack and peeked her head in. When Amondaur looked up and saw her, he smiled and rose to greet her. "Come in, come in!" he repeated. Hannah stepped in the door, with Mark close behind her.

Amondaur approached her more slowly than he had the day before, a sad, gentle smile on his face. He took her hand in both of his own. "I am truly sorry for my conduct yesterday. Please forgive me my discourteous words!"

Hannah tried to cover over her surprise. "Oh, no, it is fine."

"Say you will forgive me?"

"Of course," Hannah assured him, guilt gnawing at her insides. "You conduct was completely understandable. In truth, there is nothing to forgive."

"You are very gracious," Amondaur said gratefully, leading her to her accustomed chair. Hannah exchanged pained glances with Mark as he took his seat. If this was the kind of treatment Amondaur had been giving Mark all day, it was no wonder the guy felt guilty!

"I feel like we martyred him," she murmured, and Mark nodded emphatically. Hannah took the initiative and turned to Amondaur.

"Mark and I feel we should apologize too, Amondaur," she said sincerely. "Our conduct was—very unsympathetic. We understand that you are confused, and we should have behaved more kindly toward you."

Amondaur was shaking his head emphatically. "No, no, you only wanted for me to see the truth. You think me unwell or deceiving myself. You thought only to help me." Hannah wanted to sink into her chair and disappear.

Amondaur put his forehead in his hand. "But I am quite… quite overthrown by this. Am I mad, or no? I do not know. And it is no wonder you think I am, for if I am not, what has happened to me is a wonder most people would not credit. I do not understand it." He turned and looked her straight in the eye. "But I swear to you, I am not simply deceiving myself or attempting to deceive others."

Hannah nodded. "I believe you," she said, and realized it was true.

000

"He really does have me stumped," Mark commented as they left Amondaur's room. "The fact that he has this one schizophrenic symptom with no others… I started doing some research, and I found that his symptoms are almost similar to those of grandiose delusional disorder. People with delusional disorder have no other symptoms of mental illness except for a non-bizarre delusion."

"Do you think that's what he has?" Hannah asked, interested.

Mark shook his head. "No. The delusion must be non-bizarre—something that is possible in everyday life, like being cheated on by a spouse, or somebody trying to poison you. Believing you're a ranger from Middle-earth definitely does not fall into that category. It's a grandiose delusion, but a bizarre one."

"I still don't think it could be called a 'delusion of grandeur'," Hannah argued.

"You said Amondaur claimed to have spoken with Aragorn and lived in the same village as Gilraen, correct?" Mark asked.

"Yeah?"

"Grandiose delusions can include things like believing you're connected to some famous person, rather than thinking you're the famous person yourself. A non-bizarre delusion of that sort is believing that you're a first cousin to Elvis, or best friends with Johnny Depp."

"But not a kinsman of Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Hannah concluded.

"No." Mark shook his head. "He simply has me stumped. Of course," he added, turning to look at Hannah, "it could be that he's just a really excellent actor."

"You mean that he's putting it on for attention?" Hannah asked. "Like that college student a year ago who faked her own kidnapping?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Hannah shook her head emphatically. "No, I don't think that's it. Whatever it is, he's not putting it on. He really and truly believes he's from Middle-earth."

Mark narrowed his eyes and smiled a little. "You feel sorry for him, don't you?"

Hannah took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, I do." Mark smiled a little wider. "And don't laugh! Is it so impossible that I could feel sorry for a mentally ill individual?"

Mark sobered a bit. "No, it's certainly not impossible. But you were so resistant to everything involving Amondaur last week."

"I was uncomfortable," Hannah admitted. "I don't know how to deal with mentally ill people." She glanced around as she said it, making sure there were none in the vicinity to overhear.

Mark nodded. "Very understandable. Not everybody is cut out for a job in a psychiatric hospital. But Amondaur doesn't scare you, does he?"

"Oh, no! Not in the least. Even yesterday when he was so angry, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He seems quite stable."

"But you never know. And he's very strong, physically," Mark reminded her.

"No, it's no good. I'll never be afraid of Amondaur until I actually see him become unstable," Hannah said firmly.

They were approaching the door, now. Hannah expected Mark to say his usual goodbye, but instead he stated, "There's something else about this job that bothers you."

Hannah stopped and looked up at him, startled. "No, there isn't," she answered a little too quickly.

Mark stopped and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "Why do you dislike Tolkien so much, if you once loved his work enough learn fluent Elvish?"

Hannah set her lips in a thin line. "I just don't like fantasy literature anymore," she said, her voice a little too hard. "It has very little bearing on reality, as Amondaur's condition demonstrates." She turned and pushed through the door. "See you tomorrow," she tossed would-be casually over her shoulder as she left the building.

Mark stood and watched her head down the sidewalk, a thoughtful frown on his face.

000

"What's the matter?" Erica asked Hannah, biting into her cheeseburger. It was Wednesday night, and they were sitting in the campus coffeehouse, having a late night snack.

Hannah shook herself and reached for a fry. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about Amondaur." She dipped the French fry in her little paper cup of ketchup, observed it vaguely, and dipped it again. "I just feel really bad for him. It must be hard, ending up in another world."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Erica exclaimed with a laugh, grabbing Hannah's hand and pulling her fry out of the ketchup. "Eat it." When her roommate laughed and complied, she continued, "You're beginning to sound like you actually believe he's from Middle-earth!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hannah scoffed, shoving the rest of her fry in her mouth and carefully picking up her cheeseburger. "I don't believe it. But he does. And that means it's real to him."

Erica shrugged and nodded. "I guess so," she said around a bite of burger. She swallowed, and unscrewed the cap of her Pepsi.

They were quiet for a few moments as Erica took a swig of soda and Hannah poured some more ketchup on her sandwich.

"So. This Mark guy," Erica started, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet up on the empty chair next to her.

When she didn't say anymore, Hannah said, "Yeah?"

Erica raised her eyebrows. "You're working with him every day."

"So?"

"So what's he like?"

Hannah shrugged. "He's a guy!" she exclaimed vaguely.

Erica laughed, pulling her feet off the chair and leaning in. "Come on, spill." When Hannah didn't answer, she teased, "Is he cute?"

Hannah couldn't help smiling, and kind of tipped her head back and forth. "Yeah, kinda," she admitted slowly. "In a very intelligent-grad-student kind of way," she added by way of qualification.

Erica grinned at that. "So… Do you like him?"

"Oh, God." Hannah rolled her eyes and laughed. "I barely know him."

"You've worked with him every afternoon for a week and half."

"That doesn't constitute knowing him."

"Hmph," Erica said, sitting back in her chair again.

"He's into Tolkien," Hannah said, making a face.

"So were you, at one time."

"Yeah, but that was like, years ago. I've grown past it."

Erica threw her hands in the air. "Tolkien is not a stage; he is an interest. Aw, shit," she added, as she dropped a ketchupy French fry on her shirt. Hannah handed her a napkin. "Thanks. Anyway, just let me know if there are any developments!"

"You will be the first to know," Hannah promised. "But I'd just like to say, I find it very unlikely."

Erica, mopping at her t-shirt with the napkin, just snorted.

000

"Tree," Hannah said, pointing to a weeping cherry.

"Trî," Amondaur repeated.

"More than one?"

"Trîs."

Hannah pointed to a number of objects, and Amondaur named them: "Gras,

flauer, wal, windo, dôr."

"Good! Mae!" Hannah said with a smile. Amondaur smiled back.

Mark and Hannah had embarked upon a program of teaching Amondaur about the world he was in and how to get about in it.

"It's possible he might be capable of being reintroduced to society," Mark had told Hannah. "If taught to react properly to the world given his delusion, he could make a functioning member of society. His delusion doesn't actually interfere with his learning about 'our world'. And that surprises me."

"Nobody's observed any other symptoms of schizophrenia in him?" Hannah asked.

"None." Mark shook his head. "It's a mystery."

"I take it his medication hasn't taken effect yet," Hannah observed.

"No; it's too early to tell if it will be effective. It can take years to find a medication that works best for the individual patient."

Hannah didn't tell Mark, but she hoped to have taught Amondaur about the world and have him speaking fluent English by then. She didn't intend to hold this job for any longer than she absolutely had to.

So now she and Amondaur were in the courtyard, having an English lesson. Hannah was impressed by how fast Amondaur was "learning" English. It frustrated her to think that he really probably had known English at some point, but now due to his delusion, thought he didn't. It made it seem like a lot of unnecessary work. But Amondaur's belief in his delusion was so genuine, it made the actual experience seem very real—it really were as if she were teaching someone English as a second language.

"What country is this?" she quizzed him as they strolled down the paths of the courtyard.

"Dhe Iunaited Stets uf America," Amondaur pronounced carefully.

"Mae. And who is the king?"

"Gorgs Bess."

"And what is he called?"

"Dhe President."

"Mae," Hannah said, quite satisfied.

They took a seat on one of the benches. After a contented silence in which they looked their fill at the well-kept gardens, Amondaur turned to Hannah.

"I know little about you and Mark," he observed. "And yet, you are my only two friends here! Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Two weeks ago, Hannah would have brushed off the question, but Amondaur's statement that she and Mark were his only friends tugged at her heartstrings. She answered, "I am a student, and so is Mark. I earn money by coming here and helping you."

"Oh, the institute pays you?"

"Yes."

"So you are from this village?"

"No, actually, I'm not. It takes me about three hours to drive here. Speaking of which," she added, turning to face him squarely, "I am going home to visit my family this weekend. So I will not be able to see you on Saturday."

Amondaur nodded. "I hope you have a good time!"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They grinned at one another over his triumph with the language. "Is there a particular reason you are going home this weekend?" Amondaur asked.

"It is my mother's birthday on Monday," Hannah answered. "We are going to eat at a restaurant."

"What is that?" Amondaur used one of the phrases Hannah had taught him.

"It is a place where they cook food for you—sort of like at an inn, except that meals are all they do; one does not stay there."

Amondaur nodded in understanding and they were quiet for a minute. Hannah glanced over at Amondaur. He had a sad, faraway look on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Hannah asked quietly.

"My family," Amondaur answered sadly. "My parents, my brothers…"

Hannah swallowed. Her throat had suddenly become tight.

"I hope they are safe. They must be terribly worried by now."

The silence stretched out between them until Hannah couldn't stand it anymore, and stood up. "Well, shall we get on with the English lesson?"

TBC

AN: Once again, huge thanks to dreamingfifi for the Sindarin pronunciations of English words!

I'm sorry it took me so long to update! But I had to write 32 pages for my Arthurian lit class, and I was working on the other fic… Yeah. Insanity. :)

Faerlas: Oh yes, I've heard that theory. Because Tolkien never actually talked about them having pointy ears in his works. But he said in one of the etymologies that Elves' ears were more "pointed and leaf-shaped" than humans'. So it's a good guess they were pointy.

Laer4572: Well she does feel sorry for him, on some level.

Hermione at Heart: lol I'm glad you like it! Yes, most of my readers don't seem to be thinking about the fact that he really could be actually insane…

Spewilicious: I got the psychology stuff from Googling "delusions of grandeur" and "schizophrenia", etc. Yay for Google! It's decently well-researched. Close enough for government work, as my dad would say. :) Thanks!

voided: I think it was and I think I did have a good time, but it's been so long ago, I don't actually remember! Whoops…

theycallmemary: Well, I can't tell you just yet why she hates Tolkien. :) Yeah, I'd like to believe he's from Middle-earth, but Hannah wouldn't. Well, she's teaching him English, but she's obviously not thinking of adopting him! He's not actually related to anyone famous (other than he's a Dúnadan). Thanks!

sumdumgai: Thanks! Yep, I'm majoring in English secondary education.

FreeDaChickens: Yeah, it kinda is a personal grudge. You'll just have to wait to find out why!

Thanks also to IwishChan, sweet as lemonz, geek-chick, Crecy, trecebo, Ravens Destiny, and kitza. You all rock! I would love to write back to each and every one of you, but unfortunately, I simply don't have the time!

Please review!