She Was So Normal

Author's note: I do not own the Lord of the Rings or anything else. Also, this chapter is a little… unusual… mostly because I'm trying to highlight just how different modern life in America is from what it would have been in the past and what little luxuries we take for granted. After having just spent several days without running water in my house and having to resort to pre-indoor plumbing methods of doing anything involving water, I just really want to highlight how gosh darn inconvenient our ancestors had it and those in the world without indoor plumbing still have it. It's not a shaming thing… it's a thank goodness for plumbing thing.

Renee awoke the next morning shortly after sunrise and found herself in bed and with all her clothes on. It took her a moment to remember that she fell asleep on the couch last night and concluded one of the elves must have carried her to bed. She got up, changed into a new dress then decided she felt absolutely gross and needed a shower, but promptly remembered she didn't have a shower and would have to settle for a bath. With a frown she contemplated just exactly how long it would take to get enough hot water in the tub to make this worthwhile, and began pondering if just taking a cold bath might be a better option. No, it was definitely too cold out to consider a cold bath. Or even a tepid one.

"Well, nothing for it," she said to herself. "Best ask Haldir to help me lug that copper kettle out he was talking about." She went out into the living room and saw a blond head resting on the arm of the couch. She hadn't caught Haldir asleep yet, but supposed there was a first time for everything. She approached quietly and was going to lay a hand on his shoulder and call his name, but all at once she noticed two things – the first is that it was Aranor and not Haldir and the second was that his eyes were wide open and somewhat strange looking. Vaguely she remembered something about that in the Lord of the Rings and became entranced just staring into those unseeing eyes. They were such deep eyes, so very blue… like a deep, clear lake… filled with memory and starlight and a fire she didn't understand… Suddenly he stirred and blinked causing her to start.

"Good morning, Renee," he said, smiling warmly. "You awoke first, I see."

"O-only by a minute," she said collecting herself. "I thought you were Haldir. I was going to ask him to help me with something."

"How may I assist you?" he asked, sitting up.

"I-I was hoping you could help me warm up some water for a bath. If it's no trouble. I probably should have taken one last night, but I obviously fell asleep first."

He studied her under his keen gaze for a moment. "It is no trouble. If you do not mind me saying, you seem a bit out of sorts this morning." He stood and built up the fire a bit before turning to the kitchen and began filling up the large copper kettle.

"I suppose I am," she said, following him into the kitchen area and sitting down at the table.

"And why is that?" Aranor asked.

"I haven't caught an elf asleep before. It was a bit surprising to see someone sleeping like that when I'm all groggy first thing in the morning."

Aranor gave a laugh. "I suppose it would be at that, if you are not accustomed to it. I remember the first time I kept company with humans how alarmed I was when I awoke in the middle of the night to find them all with their eyes closed. For a moment I thought them dead until I heard one snoring, then I realized my mistake. I was very young then. Still an elfling."

"Out of curiosity, how old are you before you're no longer considered an elfling?"

"It is not so much the age as it is that we have finished maturing. Some of us are faster than others, but generally we are aged between fifty and one hundred when we finally reach our adult stature. At the time though, in case you are wondering, I was thirty-seven," he answered. "How old are humans where you are from when they are considered full grown?"

"Legally, you are considered an adult at age eighteen. Physically, I suppose it's like the elves. Some are faster than others. I had girl friends in high school that were done growing and filling out by sixteen. I didn't really finish filling out until I was twenty-one."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-four."

Aranor looked thoughtful at that answer. "That is interesting," he said at length then fell silent.

Renee wondered what he was thinking about, but wasn't exactly sure she wanted to pursue the topic of human verses elven biology too much further, as it wasn't exactly her area of expertise. In the meantime he set the kettle on the fire and disappeared into the bathroom as Renee sat in the kitchen and thought about the night before. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had such a fun night. Wonderful food, dancing, good conversation that flitted back and forth between silly and serious – she couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun with friends. Friends – was she really friends now with two elves? Not just elves, elven men… who were married… very, very happily. But of course! Most of her guy friends in college either had girlfriends sitting out a semester to work when she met them, or got a girlfriend shortly after becoming friends with her. Either way, she wouldn't be interested in Haldir or Aranor even if they were single. She had always promised herself she would marry someone within ten years of her. Three or four thousand years was just a bit too much of an age gap.

As she mused over her lack of love life, she was oblivious to Aranor coming out and grabbing a small armful of logs and taking them into the bathroom. She also missed the sound of running water but became vaguely aware of some lovely scent filling the air. The scent pulled her out of her thoughts as she saw the bathroom door open and steam escape.

"One or two kettles of hot water, and you should be set," Aranor said as he walked through the kitchen. "But that depends on how hot you like your bathwater."

"What on earth—?" she started but broke off and went into the bathroom. What she hadn't noticed, and either Haldir didn't know or forgot to mention, was that there was a small fireplace set in the wall, raised off the floor just a little bit and next to the tub. Aranor had it burning hot and bright and it was throwing heat out quite marvelously. He had the tub half filled with water, and it was warming up in the copper tub quite nicely thanks to that little fire place. It was then that she noticed the lovely smell was coming from the water. She went back into the living room where Aranor was minding the fire and stiffly sat down. Dancing last night came with a price this morning. "I like my bath water fairly hot," she said. "You sure work fast!"

"One has to in my trade," Aranor replied. "And I hope you do not mind, but I have added something to the water that should help your sore muscles."

"You noticed, eh?"

"I would say it is my well trained eye that noticed, but I am afraid it is very obvious," he said with a grin.

"As I said last night, I have not been dancing in years." She paused a moment then asked, "Where is Haldir this morning?"

"I sent him home to his wife last night. I do not work today, so unless something happens, I am at my leisure to do as I wish."

Renee nodded. "Well, I thank you for staying long enough to help me out."

"I shall stay the rest of the day, if you so wish. I have no pressing business," he replied.

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, really. She was grateful for the offer, but she really didn't want to be an imposition and she already felt horrible that Haldir was assigned to help her. Aranor watched her quietly from his chair as she sat in silence, trying to figure out how to answer without putting pressure on him to say or sounding ungrateful. At length she said, "Thank you for the offer, but I really would hate to keep you from anything or be a bother."

"Nay, I should not have offered if I was not willing and glad to help," he answered.

"But I can't imagine watching after me all day is much fun," she blurted out, almost without thinking.

"Is that what you think? Oh Renee, you underestimate yourself. I very much enjoyed spending time with you last night, and Haldir has told me how he enjoys speaking with you. You must forgive him though if it does not seem that way. He is not very comfortable with the common tongue, though he speaks it well enough. And I should not have volunteered if I had not wanted to spend time with you. As it is, I find you very interesting. For though I have had some dealings with Men, it is always interesting to me when I have an opportunity, and you being from another place altogether – how rare a chance is that? To speak with someone from a place so very foreign! Though, I must say, I find you have adjusted quite quickly to life with elves."

"Well, thank you, though I'm sure you're being too kind," she replied, feeling almost certain her face was bright pink.

Indeed it was, but Aranor said nothing. It was obvious that for as much as she didn't mind talking about things she knew, or liked, or was interested in she was not much used to hearing those kind of compliments. At least, not from the lips of new acquaintances. Just as he was about to ask her if she wanted breakfast, the kettle began to boil. Donning the gloves, he pulled it off the fire and carried it to the bathroom and poured it in and then beckoned her to come test the water. "Is that warm enough for you, or should you like more hot water?"

She tested it with her hand for a moment then said, "Well, I think more hot water and it should be perfect. Though I'm surprised how well that fire has heated up the cold water!"

He smiled, "Indeed, it does a very good job. But if more hot water is what you desire, then that is what you shall get." And with that he set about boiling her another large kettle's worth of water. Once it was over the fire he asked her, "What should you like to eat to breakfast?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "I almost never know. Usually I just dither about it until I either have to go to work without it or until it is lunch time."

He shot her a somewhat disapproving look. It might be fine and well for elves to live on music and song, but he didn't approve of it with his patients or very thin humans. She was putting on weight again, but he still thought she looked boney around the edges. "Well then, I shall make you whatever I fancy. Should you like it before or after you are bathed?"

"After. That way I won't worry about the water getting cold while I eat."

"Very well," he said, looking a bit more pleased. He got up and went to the pantry and began pulling things out and placing them on the table.

"Would you like any help?" Renee asked.

"Thank you, but I do not require any. You mind the kettle and tell me when it is hot and I shall mind the food," he answered.

"Alright. Do you cook much?" she asked, trying to figure out exactly what was going to be made out of the assortment of things on the table.

"All the time," he answered. "That is, whenever I am home. My wife is wonderful gardener, but prefers working in the earth or with her livestock than spending time in the kitchen. I do not have patience for gardening or much care one way or the other for ducks or chickens or sheep, but she enjoys raising them, so who am I to deny her her pleasures?"

"Does she raise them for meat or eggs and wool?" Renee asked.

"All three. Every year she keeps a certain number of chickens and ducks for eggs and designates a certain number for meat. It is the same with sheep. Some she keeps for wool, others she shears the wool but then later slaughters them. Between you and I, I think she always slaughters the particularly stupid or mean ones of each kind and lets the more compliant and intelligent ones live on."

"Does she spin the wool herself or sell it off to someone else?" Renee asked.

"She spins and weaves herself, usually. She spun, wove, and sewed what I am wearing," he answered.

"Wow! That's… may I take a closer look?" she asked. "I'm something of seamstress myself."

"Certainly," he said, as he shrugged out of his outer robe and laid it on the chair beside him then began cutting up a carrot.

Renee gently picked up the robe and examined the weave and the stitching. It was immaculate! The stitches were very small and very close together, creating some the most secure seams she had ever seen. She wished she knew more about weaving because it seemed to her that none of it was hemmed, yet each end seemed perfectly finished and unlikely to unravel anytime soon. "This is really quite stunning," she said. "I love the subtle mallorn leaf pattern, but then how it drapes! And it's so warm! It feels warm like a thick winter sweater, but then it's thin and pliable like a soft cotton. I love it!"

Aranor smiled. "I am fond of it as well. I have always loved the things she has made for me."

Renee smiled and looked up at Aranor and now seeing him without the robe, suddenly realized just how big he was. His shoulders and chest were very broad, and everything he was wearing under his robe was very tailored, as if to contrast with the soft lines of the robe. The more she looked at him, the more she appreciated the genius of his wife. Last night she hadn't really paid much attention to the contrast of his robe to his tunic and belt, and partially because she had spent the better part of the night looking at him while sitting. But now she was getting the full effect and held up the robe to better see the contrast.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing what she was doing.

"I'm just realizing how perfect this outfit is. Your wife is a genius when it comes to clothing."

"I have always thought so," Aranor replied with a smile.

"I mean, the way the colors of the robe compliment your tunic and belt, and then the soft draping of the robe with the tailored look of everything underneath – it's brilliant! I wouldn't have thought to do it that way, but it's brilliant!"

Aranor beamed with pride. "I shall tell her you said so. She said she did it that way so my shoulders would not get caught in the door," he said then laughed at his wife's joke. Renee just smiled at first but then she got the joke and gave a chuckle. Renee went over to check the water and saw it was at a simmer. "What is the water doing?" he asked.

"It will be boiling in a minute or so. It's at a simmer," she answered.

"Go ready yourself and I shall summon you when it is ready," he said.

She went into her room and sat on the bed and wondered what exactly there was to ready. After a few moments of pondering, she decided if nothing else she could brush her hair. She carefully undid her braid then loosened it carefully with her fingers and then brushed out her hair. Then, she changed out of her dress and wrapped herself in the robe that was in the closet. The voice of Aranor could be heard singing as he worked on things. Whatever it was he was singing, it brought to mind images of sun in spring time and trees in flower. His voice drew closer to the door and there was a soft knock.

"All is ready for you. If you need anything, just call,"

"Thank you," she answered as she walked to the door. The time it took her to stand and open the door, he had already removed himself to the kitchen and was now working with his back to the hallway. The bathroom was wonderfully warm and steamy and filled with that wonderful scent. A small tray had been attached to the side of the tub and held soap and a scrub brush. On the edge of the counter with the sink was a pair of towels, as well as a pitcher of cool water and a cup. "His wife must adore him," she said to herself. "He's certainly pays attention to detail."

She tested the water again and slowly lowered herself in. The water was absolutely perfect! And whatever it was he had added to her bath, it already started working on her sore muscles. She settled in and heaved a big sigh. This was genuinely nice.

Aranor busied himself with breakfast and was singing a favorite song. It was mid-morning, so he decided something light in flavor would be best. He was working on what was basically a vegetable tart with biscuits and honey, eggs, and cold ham served with tea. He no sooner had the door shut in the oven (which was beside the fireplace) when he saw a messenger coming up to the door. "Oh dear," he muttered to himself. "Always when I put something in the oven."

The messenger knocked and Aranor answered. The messenger handed him a letter, which wasn't exactly what he had expected. It was a note from Haldir: Dear Aranor, I believe I shall further trespass on your good graces and take you up on your offer of staying home today as well. I shall return tonight. Regards, Haldir.

"Any reply, sir?" the messenger asked.

Aranor quickly found a quill and ink and wrote a reply at the bottom of the letter, refolded it, and handed it to the messenger. It was short – Have fun! The messenger sped off with all haste, as if this were very serious correspondence. Of course, he had no idea it was essentially frivolity, and Aranor was not about to let on otherwise. He returned to his cooking and set on a pot and a kettle for making tea and boiled eggs.

The kettle was singing by the time Renee left the bathroom and returned to her room to dress. Aranor was glad she had taken her time. His tincture needed time to work properly, and it worked best if the patient relaxed while using it. He hoped she would take her sweet time getting herself ready too. He knew the tea and biscuits would be done first and they were still a ways off from done. If he had timed everything properly and the oven heat maintained how he hoped it would, everything would finish in succession and it would be nicely paced meal. If nothing else, the cold ham was ready so there was that anyway if she decided to hasten.

He sat down in front of the fireplace and absent mindedly watched the kettle as he mused what must her world be like? She hadn't spoken about it much, though he had picked up on some subtle things here and there and turned them over in his mind. Some things seemed to come naturally to her, as if she had done them before, others she seemed to be slowly working her way through as if for the first time, but with some familiarity; as if she had seen it done or read about it, but never tried it herself. Either way, she seemed to be an intelligent woman and a courageous one as she seemed to be bearing up under these unusual circumstances very well. What's more, he liked her. She reminded him greatly of his daughter, though perhaps a little less sure of herself. His daughter had no hesitations when it came to what she knew or could do. Renee always seemed to hesitate a little. His thoughts wandered back to his daughter and how she was when she was growing up until they were interrupted by a sound coming from Renee's room. He sat up and listened for a moment – was that weeping he heard? Softly he made his way to her bedroom door and listened for a moment then gave a very soft knock.

"Renee? Are you unwell?" She did not answer, but it sounded to him suddenly like someone trying not to cry only to burst into suppressed sobs. "Renee?" He slowly opened the door and saw her sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed, sobbing into her hands. He sat down beside her and put an arm around her which caused her burst into renewed sobs. "My child, what troubles you?"

She couldn't speak for a while and tried to calm down. Eventually she calmed down enough to force out, "Culture shock." Aranor didn't understand what that meant, and she figured as much, but nobody said anything for a little while until she calmed down enough to say, "I miss my home. Everyone has been so nice to me here, but everything is so strange to me! The weight of all the differences just came crashing down on me this morning and … I'm afraid I lost my composure. I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

"You need not apologize," Aranor replied. "What can I do to help you feel more at home?"

"Oh, I don't think there is really anything. Not really."

"Well, perhaps it shall not cure homesickness, but I do know that after tears comes thirst and hunger and those are things I can remedy. Would you like to come out into the kitchen to eat, or shall I bring you things in here so you may have some solitude?"

She stood up and Aranor escorted her into the kitchen and helped her sit in a chair at the table. The table was already set, and as Renee looked around, trying to distract herself, she noticed he had been quite busy. The table was set, new flowers in the vase, everything neat and tidy even though when she left to take her bath there was food everywhere. Quietly she drank a bit of water from her cup then poured some more from the pitcher as Aranor was pulling something that smelled bread-like out of the oven with a large wooden paddle. Deftly he brought it over and with a quick motion slid a small pan of biscuits onto a beautiful little trivet on the table. He returned to the oven and reached the paddle in again and seemed to be looking at something and then decided it wasn't done and shut the door again and came to the table. He carved a few slices of cold ham and set them on her plate and then a couple on his then served her a biscuit and a hardboiled egg, cut neatly in half and asked if she would like butter or honey.

"Butter, please," she answered. Despite the fact it was winter, the little cottage in the trees was warm and the kitchen window was open, letting the sound of elven voices float in. She could hear some talking mixed in with singing. The tune seemed rather mournful somehow, even though she didn't understand a word of it. "Aranor, what is that everyone is singing?"

He looked rather grave as he replied, "They are singing a lament for Mithrandir, or Gandalf as some call him. He fell into darkness in Moria. It is a great blow to us, for he was the doer of many great deeds, and many of us supposed he would help bring about the fall of the dark lord, but alas! It is not to be."

"Oh that's right," Renee said calmly. "I had forgotten about that, what with what happens in the Two Towers and all."

"Two towers?" Aranor asked, very confused. "What do you mean? What happens?"

Renee realized too late that she probably shouldn't have said anything at all. Quietly she sat, desperately trying to figure out how to answer without saying anything more. "Well…." She hedged then blurted out the only thing that came into her head, "Wizards are never late. Nor are they early. They arrive precisely when they mean to." And then immediately turned her attention to her ham and biscuits so as to avoid the look she could feel boring into her from the elf.

Aranor looked at her rather suspiciously, like a parent who knows full well the story he's getting from his child isn't the exact truth, but he couldn't for the life of him guess at what she meant. A vague suspicion of what she had left unsaid began to form in his mind, but only so far as that there are circumstances surrounding Mithrandir unknown to anyone as yet, and this made him feel oddly hopeful. Even though he could not imagine any circumstance involving the wizard falling into a rumored bottomless pit with a balrog as having anything less than a terrible end. At best he hoped that Mithrandir managed to kill the balrog as they fell and so rid the world of a great evil. Perhaps that was it. But something told him it wasn't. Either way, his nose was telling him that the tart was done and if he didn't get it quickly, it would be overdone.
"Excuse me, I must get the vegetable tart," he said as he stood. He placed the tart on the table and pulled the tea kettle off the fire and made a pot of tea which he also set on the table. "Tea?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

"Cream or sugar?"

"Neither, thank you."

He poured her a cup and handed it to her then sat down. "So tell me, Renee, what is like where you are from?"

She paused a moment before answering. "Well, where I live in particular is flat farm country. There are lots of small farms, some woods, a lake and a couple small rivers and a small town. All of it is on the ground, so in that regard, I suppose it's not very interesting," she said with a grin. "But it has everything you need."

"Do you live in town?" Aranor asked.

"Yes, I live in a little apartment above a clothing store. It's about the same size as this place, though this is much prettier," she answered. She took a bite of the vegetable tart and closed her eyes and sank back in her chair. "Oh Aranor, this is just lovely!"

"I am glad you approve," he said with a smile. "Do you eat the same sort of things back home?"

"Yes and no. Like last night, the venison stew and the trout were both things I've had before, but spiced a little differently. I'm not exactly sure which way I prefer either. Pheasant though; for as much as I know people who hunt and eat pheasant, I've never had it. But then take this tart – I've never had anything quite like this before, but I've seen antique recipes for similar things. But then we have a lot of things we eat that I don't think exist here."

"Like what?"

"Tropical fruit, for one thing. We can ship things very quickly, so we can have fruit that only grows in warm, tropic climates delivered up to the north where I live. And then we have food from a lot of different countries. Some of it is authentic, some of it has been adapted. Like pizza. It's supposed to be Italian, but it's been pretty thoroughly Americanized."

"Pizza. What a funny word! What is it?"

"So, you start by making a bread dough, but instead of letting it rise, you roll it out into a circle. Then you put on a sauce, usually a tomato sauce, then mozzarella cheese which is a soft, fresh white cheese, and then whatever toppings you like. So some people put sausage on it that has been browned, some people will put small little pieces of cubed ham, some people will put on cured and seasoned meats sliced thin. Then you can put on vegetables like onion, pepper, or what have you, and season it with things like basil and oregano. But really, you can put on it whatever you like. Some people do shredded chicken and a white cream sauce with cheese and spinach, some people do all vegetables, some do all meat. It's whatever you like. Then you put it in the oven and let it bake until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is melted and then you slice it up like you would a pie and eat it with your hands."

"That sounds very interesting. Do you think you could make it here?"

"Probably. But I would need a little help with getting the dough started. I am not accustomed to using the kind of yeast you use here."

"What do you say we go to the market after we eat and get what you need to make it?" Aranor asked.

"That would be fun," she said.

"Then that is what we shall do, but not until we have finished."