Hannah enjoyed the drive home that weekend, as she always did. It was relaxing to drive straight down the highway with some of her favorite music playing, trees and fields flashing by the car on both sides.
The drive took her about two hours, and she was home by noon on Saturday, pulling up in front of her parents' two-storey brick house. Her parents greeted her almost ecstatically, and she couldn't help but smile as she gave them each a hug.
"We're going out to Appleby's tonight for the dinner," her father said, pulling his daughter's suitcase out of the trunk and carrying it into the house for her, despite her protests. Setting it down on the bed in Hannah's old room, he turned to her and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose with a characteristic gesture. "Then tomorrow we thought we'd go to church as a family."
Hannah fought to hide a grimace. "Sounds good. Appleby's, huh?" she asked, changing the subject quickly. "Mom's choice, I presume." Appleby's was her mother's favorite restaurant.
"Of course!" her father answered as he led her back into the living room. Hannah's mother came out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies and iced tea, and Mr. D'Angelo gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Mrs. D'Angelo plied her daughter and husband with the snack, and then they asked Hannah all about how she was doing at college. Hannah answered truthfully that she felt a bit swamped with work sometimes, especially now that she had taken on a new job.
"Ah yes, you mentioned something about that in one of your emails," her mother remembered. "Where are you working?"
Hannah mentally kicked herself for bringing up the topic. "I'm, uh… working at Grenville Psychiatric Hospital," she said hesitantly.
Mrs. D'Angelo raised her eyebrows in shock, but Mr. D'Angelo laughed. "What are you doing there? Working in the cafeteria?"
Hannah shot him an amused but defiant look. "Nooo, I'm a translator."
"A translator? Do they have an Italian patient?" her mother asked, referring to the language Hannah had taken in school.
"No; Elvish, actually," Hannah said, keeping her tone very casual. Answering their puzzled glances, she explained, "They've got somebody there who thinks he's from Middle-earth and speaks only Westron and Sindarin. So they hired me as a Sindarin translator. It pays really well."
"Well that's nice," her mother said tactfully, trying to sound as casual as her daughter. "I thought you weren't interested in Tolkien anymore."
"I'm not, but I figured I could use the cash," Hannah said off-handedly, picking up another cookie and concentrating on it. "Oh, by the way," she said, looking up again with a smile: "Happy birthday, Mom!"
000
The delicious dinner at Appleby's that evening culminated in the waiters bringing out a cake and singing "Happy Birthday" to Mrs. D'Angelo.
"Speech! Speech!" her husband demanded when they had finished, and Hannah and her mother laughed.
Mrs. D'Angelo cleared her throat portentously. "Thank you both for this delicious dinner. Thank you, Brian, for putting up with me all of these years," (Mr. D'Angelo smiled affectionately at her) "and thank you Hannah, for coming down from college for the occasion." She paused, and when she spoke again, it was in a faltering and tear-chocked voice. The smiled faded from Hannah's face, although her mother smiled through her tears. "And I thank God for all He has blessed me with, and for allowing me another year to spend with my loved ones."
Hannah and her father both leaned over and hugged Mrs. D'Angelo tightly. In a moment, she wiped away her tears and grinned. "Well, shall we cut the cake?"
She and her husband were soon laughing and chatting animatedly again, but Hannah had grown quiet, and said little the rest of the way through dinner.
000
She went to church with her parents the next morning, but left immediately after the service.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay for Sunday school?" her father asked as she took leave of her parents in the fellowship hall. "I'm sure your old class would love to see you again."
But Hannah shook her head. "I've got to get back and do some homework," she explained. "Bye Mom, happy birthday; bye Dad; love you!"
"We love you too, Honey," her mother said, giving her a hug and a kiss, and her husband followed suit.
"Drive safe," he added, and Hannah nodded.
"Always."
000
The next week passed in a blur. It was midterms, and it seemed to Hannah that every instant she wasn't at the psychiatric hospital, she spent studying. Between boning up on the minutiae of Thervada Buddhism and doing a quick refresher on Plato's Republic, she felt completely worn out by Saturday. Consequently, Amondaur's daily English lesson was a bit choppier than usual, as Hannah kept breaking off and staring into space.
"Are you well?" Amondaur asked her in slight concern after this had happened for the fourth time.
"Oh, I'm fine." Hannah suddenly realized how very little attention she had been paying to Amondaur that day, and she felt a stab of guilt. The poor guy was deluded into believing that he couldn't understand any language but Sindarin, and she was the only person he knew who spoke that language. She was his one true outlet and source of communication, and here she was ignoring him.
"Amondaur," she said suddenly, "how would you like to get out of the institution?"
Amondaur frowned at her, confused. "I can't," he pronounced carefully.
"I do not mean permanently. I believe they would allow you to leave the institution for a few hours under supervision. Would you like to get out next weekend? I do not have classes on Saturday, so we would have plenty of time."
Amondaur's eyes lit up. "Truly?" he asked her.
"Truly."
His face split into a grin. "I would love that. Thank you!"
000
Hannah checked with Mark to make sure that her scheme was plausible.
Mark nodded, surprised. "Yes, you could do that. I'm sure Amondaur'd love the idea."
"He already does," she agreed. "Downtown might overwhelm him a bit, but I think he'd like the park."
"I'm sure he would," Mark said, then smiled at her. "This is a really kind thing for you to do."
Hannah waved it off. "I've been really ratty to the poor guy sometimes; I felt kinda bad for him."
Mark laughed.
000
Amondaur was very excited about their projected trip, and when Mark met Hannah in the hallway on Saturday, he was grinning.
"He's been up and dressed since six this morning," he told her. "He's as excited as a kid about to go see a Harry Potter movie."
Hannah laughed. "Well, I won't keep him waiting, then!"
Amondaur put down the magazine he had been flipping through and sprang up from his seat as soon as Hannah appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, as it was mid-fall and a bit chilly out. Hannah was once more impressed by how normal he looked in regular clothing.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, and Amondaur nodded emphatically.
Hannah signed him out as Mark had shown her, and she and Amondaur walked out of the building. She walked down the steps and noticed that Amondaur had not followed her.
He stood at the top of the steps, a look of bliss on his face, taking deep breaths of the outside air. It was the first he had been out of the institution since he had been admitted before. He finally looked down at her and smiled.
"Thank you, Hannah," he repeated. He came down the steps and offered her his arm, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Shall we?"
The cars on the road made Amondaur a little nervous, and Hannah kept up a steady stream of quiet explanation as they strolled down the sidewalk.
"You see, they do not drive off of the road. They have stopped for the red light; they will not strike one another… Ah, and here is the park."
They stepped in the gates and made their way down the curving, paved paths until the sounds of the traffic were only a ghost of noise in the distance. Amondaur relaxed once more, and began to look around with curiosity.
If there was one thing Hannah could say for Grenville, it had a fantastic park. Evergreens were planted close together all about the perimeter to shut out the sights of the city, and neat, paved walks curled about through lawns of smooth grass and well-tended flower-beds. Gazebos and tiny classical-style buildings could be seen, half hidden by trees, some distance off the paths.
Amondaur became quite animated, keeping up a steady flow of conversation and admiring the park. He seemed very taken with it.
"There is nothing like this where I am from," he admitted. "They do not even have such a thing in Gondor. Only the Elves might make such a park!"
Hannah felt a bit of surprise when she found that she was really enjoying herself. She had only taken a walk through this park once before, and it was fun to show the whole thing to Amondaur, who saw it all through such different eyes.
In the center of the park, they came to the tower that housed the bell carillon. It was a round tower with a set of stairs inside that curved up and to the left, running counter-clockwise as they ascended the tower. Hannah and Amondaur stopped to look at it, and Hannah realized in the sudden silence that Amondaur was scrutinizing it carefully.
"What is the purpose of this tower?" he asked her.
"There are bells in the top that are used to play some beautiful music," Hannah explained. "Why do you ask?"
"Because it was certainly not built for defense."
"Aren't the walls thick enough?"
"Oh no, the construction is sturdy enough. It is the stairs."
"The stairs?"
"They are built the wrong way around, you see." He sprang up a few steps and turned back to her to demonstrate. "When one defends a tower, one would be fighting whilst coming down the steps from above. Most fighters are right-handed. So, if I have my sword in this hand, my swing is impaired by the curve of the inner wall." He demonstrated, showing how his sword would be impaired by the stone wall. "While the invaders, meanwhile" (he turned with his back to her, demonstrating the part of the attacker climbing the stairs) "would have free range by the curve of the outer wall." He made a swing with his fake sword, parried his invisible adversary, then performed an almighty sweep which Hannah could readily imagine chopping off a defender's head. "You see? Towers built for defense have stairs curving up and to the right, not the left."
Hannah nodded. She did see, and she was impressed at his knowledge.
They soon left the tower and by degrees found themselves on the broad main walk of the park. Amondaur stopped to stare at a passing bicyclist. Hannah began making mental plans to take him to a nearby restaurant for lunch. A high school-aged girl approached riding a horse, probably come from the nearby equestrian school. She nodded to Amondaur, who bowed gracefully. Hannah smiled a little, wondering if she should curtsey.
It all happened in a flash. Just as the horsewoman reached them, a startled bird made a noisy takeoff from a bush just beside the path. The horse started, whinnied, and began to rear. The girl looked terrified.
In the blink of an eye, Amondaur had taken two long strides over and caught the horse's bridle, preventing it from throwing its rider. He made a soothing sound in his throat and caught the horse's head, murmuring something tranquil to it and stroking it with a quieting motion. In a few moments the horse was relatively calm again, and Amondaur backed away from it respectfully.
"Wow," the girl said, greatly surprised. "That was really impressive. Thank you! You have a real way with horses."
"You're welcome," Amondaur answered with a bow, having caught the familiar words Thank you.
"How long have you worked with horses?" the girl asked him.
He looked at Hannah for clarification. Hannah told the girl, "He doesn't speak much English."
"Oh. Well, he must have worked with horses for a long time—even my instructor can't calm Achilles like that! Thank you again!" The girl rode on with a backward glance and a grateful goodbye, and Amondaur turned back to Hannah.
"She should ride a less flighty horse until she has gained a bit more skill in the saddle," he said judiciously, then paused. Hannah was staring at him. "What is it?"
"She was right; you do have a way with horses. How long have you worked with them?"
"Oh, all of my life," he said, equally surprised. "My father taught me to ride almost as soon as he taught me to walk!" He laughed, but stopped when he saw that she was in earnest. "Do people here not work with horses so early?"
"Most people never work with horses at all" Hannah answered. They looked at one another in silence for a long moment, and then Hannah shook herself. "It is time for luncheon," she said, walking on. "Why don't we get something to eat?"
000
Amondaur greatly enjoyed his day out. After they left the park, Hannah took him to lunch at a restaurant, and then to the public library and a couple of small shops. Amondaur was intrigued by it all.
It was dark out by the time they walked back to the institution, and Amondaur appeared enchanted by all the lights.
"No one lit those lamps," he observed, indicating the streetlamps.
"There is a small device that sees how much light there is out, and when it gets dark, the device lights the lamps," Hannah explained.
Amondaur nodded, unsurprised. "There are many amazing things here," he said. "I wonder if they have such devices in Aman? Perhaps the Deep Elves and the Valar might craft such things."
Hannah smiled, and bit back a reply. I doubt it, she thought.
They were walking calmly down the sidewalk, Hannah with her hand on Amondaur's arm. He had continued to offer her his elbow every time they stepped out of a building and onto the street. Hannah noticed that further, he had generally positioned himself so that he was walking closer to the street, and she to the shops. He was happiest when walking on the left sidewalk, so that he could offer her his left arm, and she would be in the "safer" position. Hannah remembered reading somewhere that gentlemen had done such things in the Victorian period and earlier in England, so that the lady the gentleman was escorting would always be protected. Offering her his left arm meant that Amondaur's right arm was free to reach for his sword. He obviously was not wearing it now, but he was accustomed to having it when he went out. Once when a car horn had blared and startled him, his right hand had reflexively gone to his left side, where the sword hilt would have been.
Hannah shook her head. Was that kind of reaction possible in a man who was only crazy and thought he generally carried a sword? She supposed it must be. But it was hard to believe.
Startled at her own thoughts, Hannah shook her head. Was she actually starting to believe that Amondaur was a Ranger of the North? It was ridiculous, almost laughable. Hannah smiled at her own risible thoughts.
"What is it?" Amondaur asked with a smile, having seen her expression.
"Oh, nothing. Look, there is the institution," she answered.
"I almost hate to go inside!" he said jovially as they mounted the steps, but Hannah knew he was serious.
She walked with him back to his room, and he paused at the door.
"I want to thank you for taking me out today," he said solemnly. "It has been a wonderful day, and it has meant a great deal to me. Thank you."
"Not at all," Hannah said, smiling warmly at him. With an answering smile he kissed her knuckles, then slipped into his room.
"Hannah!" Mark called from down the hall as she was leaving. She stopped and waited for him. "How did it go?" he asked when he had caught up with her.
"It was great," she answered. "We both had a good time."
Mark smiled. "Good. Did you have any problems?"
"None whatsoever. He was a little startled by some things, but that was all."
Mark nodded abstractedly. "I'd like to discuss it in more detail with you, but I don't have time just at the moment. How would you like to have a talk over dinner some night this week?" Hannah blinked at him, and Mark grinned at her surprise. "I'll buy!" he said temptingly. "You surely can't pass up a chance to get some real non-dining hall food for free!"
Hannah laughed. "You win. How's Tuesday night?"
"No good. I've got night shift. Wednesday?"
"Wednesday works for me," Hannah agreed.
"Great. I'll pick you up at the front gates of the college at six?" Someone down the hall called his name. "In a moment!" he called back, and turned to Hannah for confirmation.
She nodded. "That's fine."
"Okay. See you Monday!" He turned and headed for the source of the trouble. Hannah stood watching him for a moment, then shook her head with a funny half-smile.
TBC
AN: A little shorter than usual, but ah well. :)
From now on, I'll be replying to reviews with the reply feature ff dot net just put in. I'll only include the answers to those I can't reply to through the site. Issues and questions brought up in reviews that I think everybody should hear the answers to will also go in the Author's Notes. I wish I could still put up everybody's answers on the chapter, but I don't want to make ff dot net mad.
Erasuithiel: Yeah, I feel bad for the poor guy. And as for reverse fics, you see them, but they're usually the screaming-fangirl-finds-Legolas-running-around-takes-him-home-falls-in-love-with-him fluffy stuff. :)
Cindy: I'm flattered! It's a bit unusual to find a Boromir fangirl, but he def deserves it—particularly bookverse Boromir.
Jaffee Leeds: lol Tell the truth, I don't like her either! I figure it's a good sign—my characters aren't just all little copies of me with different hair colors anymore!. :)
Thank you all for reviewing and being so patient for updates! Love you all! Please review!