A&A&A Boarding School
Authoresses' Note: Huh. Lydia couldn't login. Hence we've got to wait till after the website update to post this. Sorry.
(sighs) Not much reviews (or at least not as much as last time) most likely because of website update, but never mind, shall thank the loyal few. Must count blessings.
Katatonia: Well, about anything can best Paris. Sissy thing. Thanks for reviewing LXG!
Manveri Mirkiel: Do you seriously know what a bootsie is, lissenya? If you do, then perhaps you won't be asking for them. Lydia says you never did go online on Monday morning (sniffs). But if worst comes to worst she will call you before she goes off to NZ – wouldn't leave without a word to her squishy one first, would she? When's class gathering?
Asha Ice: Don't eat apples when you type, dear. It's bad for the keyboard.
Silver Sniper: It might not be a bad thing, altogether, you know.
Hotdogfish: Whee!
BlueDove: Do you know, that's one of the best things we've heard in a long time. We've got a new Anti-Legolasser!
Angel(s and Demons): Lydia says thank you for the lovely letter, and she'll reply soon. More to be said later.
Southerngirl4615: Libraries, libraries. Hee. Thanks for reviewing LXG too!
Cerse Liminara: You know, Skeith doesn't sound like a nice person. Is he evilly sadistic or something?
Vionny: Yes, dear, thanks. (Lydia shrieks) Wait till you see our ending. It's sort of like the homework theory.
Erulasse: Hm…you sound pretty new around here…Does your name mean Eru Leaf, or something like that? Anyway, good luck on
Nothing much else to report, except that our mother inspired us to find a very preposterous theory, which concludes the idea that Anna Valerious could actually be a descendent of Troy and hence related to Hector and all. A bit mad, that thought.
Lydia begs that you review her new fanfic, League of Extraordinary Gentlewomen, and her Fictionpress fiction, Fenghuanghua. Pretty please.
Oh, and this might be the last update in a long time. We're going to New Zealand in December – we'll try squeezing in another update around the weekend, but it might not work out – and we'll only be back around Christmas. Sorry 'bout that.
We own nothing. A sad business, that.
14. Phantom Speech and Partnering Upsets
Galadriel was looking exceptionally pleased.
As Arwen, all-knowing granddaughter, had told them, Galadriel was only truly exceptionally pleased when she:
was mirrorgazing.
had invented a new cookie / ice cream flavour.
was going to force her students into a production that she liked and they didn't.
In this case, it was blatantly the last one. This production, they certainly did not like.
Galadriel had divided them into two groups – the Cast, and the Patch Crew (no one knew where that name came from). She set the Cast to having a read-through of the script, and hurried over towards the Patch Crew with a look on her face that did not bode at all well for them.
"I shall tell you your roles," began the Lady.
"We probably won't like them," muttered Achilles.
Galadriel looked hurt. "But of course you will!" Ignoring Achilles' glower, she went on. "Some of you will provide the musical accompaniment."
After much arrangement, it was decided that Artemis would be Main Musician – since he played the best – and play the organ, the piano and the violin when required. Paris would help with the lyre, Haldir the flute, and the French Revolution would drum. Chix was given a small part with the mouth harp.
"Very good," said Galadriel. "The rest of you, you will act as extras. Most of the time you will file in, mill about, hang around, whatever you young people call it. But there will be times when you will be required to play an Important Part."
Uh-oh.
Galadriel spun abruptly and flashed them a dazzling smile. Most people were, in accordance, dazzled. "You eight girls. In the ballet scenes and the Masquerade scene, you will have to dance."
There was a shocked silence. Then…
"D'Arvit!"
"Merde!"
"Oh my god."
"Nonononono!!!"
"Eeeek!"
Galadriel flung herself in the way of a mass stampede towards the Theatre's exit. "No! You have to do this!" And fortunately she was still being dazzling, which was enough to stop the fleeing girls in their tracks. Galadriel herded them back to the Patch Crew.
"This is a bad dream," moaned Holly. "Any moment I'm going to wake up in the library with all my homework safe in my folder. Yes, this is all a bad dream."
"I can't dance," complained Eponine.
"I'll teach you."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Draco Malfoy grinned sadistically. "Oh, lucky us. At least we guys don't have to dance."
Galadriel spun around and confronted him. "But it is not so! In the Masquerade Ball scene, I have choreographed some lovely ballroom dancing. And so it is, that I shall pick out eight of you for dance partners with the girls."
Another shocked silence. Fortunately most of the boys were too stunned to do anything much, so Galadriel did not have to prevent another mass stampede.
Then the complaints started.
"I can't dance either."
"I will DIE before I dance with one of THEM."
"Me too."
"Girls are contaminated, you know."
"Who said that?"
The last was uttered by Holly, who had her fists clenched in a very meaningful way. No one, wisely, answered.
Galadriel clapped her hands like a girl who has just received enough pocket money to buy the whole mall. "Well, since you've settled all your doubts, let's get started then!"
To give the Lady Galadriel credit, she had actually planned the whole thing very well. She had, as stated, carefully choreographed the dance moves for each scene, thought of costumes, and even brought the Lord Celeborn (who wasn't looking very happy with the proceedings) along to help with dance training.
Now she had lined the eight girls (all looking as if Doomsday had come a couple centuries too early) up in a row facing the huddle of boys (who were gawking at the girls as if they were lightning bolts about to strike at random). With Celeborn like a loyal henchman at her side, she strode up and down the row between them. She came to the end, turned, smiled, and called out a name.
"Lili."
The huddle of boys drew back a step. If there was anything worse than having to dance with a girl, it was having to dance with Lili Frond.
"It will have to be someone short," went on Galadriel as she surveyed 'prospective goods' (all the tall ones breathed in relief) "…let's see. Ah. You. You'll do nicely."
"What?" said Trouble, not believing his pointy ears. "Me?"
Galadriel sighed. "No, not you." She pointed at Grub, who was cowering at his brother's side. "Him. Unless, of course, you'd rather partner Lili yourself?"
"Oh, no thank you!" exclaimed Trouble, shoving Grub forward. "I'm sure Grub would do a much better job, won't you, Grub?"
Grub was trembling uncontrollably. "No! Trubs! No! Mummy said…"
The rest was lost in a loud shriek as Galadriel caught hold of him, shoved Lili's hand into his and passed them on to Celeborn to deal with. Galadriel resumed her name-calling.
"Helen."
Legolas and Paris both sucked in their breath. No. It's got to be me. It can't be HIM. Never him. Galadriel had better choose me. Come on…
Galadriel hooked Carl up by the shoulder and paired him with Helen. "Off you go," she said to the bewildered Carl, who seemed as if someone had just dunked in lemon treacle and forgotten to wipe it off his eyes.
No! It can't be! It should have been ME!
Well, at least it's not – Him.
"Holly."
D'Arvit, thought Holly. Oh d'Arvit.
Galadriel, towing Holly behind her like a rag doll, moved down the lineup of boys. "Another short one. Let's see. I'll choose…"
"……Sam."
Sam looked up. "What?"
Holly was equally dumbfounded. Too dumbfounded to comment.
Galadriel took both of them by the shoulders and propelled them towards Celeborn. "Now. Eponine."
Eponine looked up, a light in her eyes. Please, let me have Marius. Please…please…please…
"There," said Galadriel, pulling Grantaire out of the boys' crowd – he was probably too inebriated to get what was going on – "you can take him."
No! thought Eponine as Celeborn reeled the two of them in. She glanced back at Marius in despair…no, don't let him go to Cosette…
"Cosette."
Cosette smiled like the cat who's got the cream. Galadriel strode down the line towards Marius…
…and passed him. "How about Enjolras?"
Hah! Take that! thought Eponine, and then winced as Grantaire accidentally stepped on her foot again.
"Hermione."
I hope it's Ron…or Harry…I wouldn't mind either, but the rest…especially…
And then Hermione's worst fears came true.
Galadriel reached into the midst of the boys and lugged Draco Malfoy out. Hermione saw her horror mirrored on his face.
"NO!" she shrieked, but it was too late.
Ron watched her go morosely, staring at her white face. "Poor Hermione…"
"I agree," sighed Harry.
"Éowyn."
Galadriel cast her eyes over the boys. "There. Faramir, come along." She linked their arms and sent them off together.
Éomer and Boromir, respective brothers of both, watched them go. "Poor soul," sighed Boromir sympathetically.
"Yeah," adjoined Éomer. "Faramir's going to have a tough time."
Boromir gave him a funny look. "What're you saying? I was talking about Éowyn."
"Anna."
Anna, left alone and looking seriously concerned for her well-being, watched apprehensively as Galadriel surveyed the boys who were left over. I've got a bad feeling about this…I know she knows…will she do it on purpose…oh bad feeling, bad feeling…argh, NO!
Galadriel tapped Van Helsing lightly on his hat brim. "You."
Everyone else breathed a sigh of deep, deep relief. Van Helsing alone stood as if shellshocked. He looked as if he could be knocked down by simply blowing at him – something Gavroche actually tried, but found reality not to be so.
"Oh, don't look so surprised," beamed Galadriel as she pulled Van Helsing out like one pulls gardening hose off the reel. "I'm sure you'll get along perfectly well. Now, Celeborn, do take care of the dears, will you? I must get back to the Cast." She swept off across the Theatre in the majestic way only the Lady Galadriel could manage. Celeborn sullenly set about obeying his wife.
"Jack keeps swearing," complained Arwen when Galadriel got back to them.
"Am not."
"Are too," retorted Elizabeth. The rest of the Cast nodded in agreement.
Galadriel sighed. "Jack, you are not to swear. It's not nice. And no, don't even try thinking swear words. I can read them. Really, where do you get all that vocabulary from?"
"Well," began Jack, delighted to explain, "most of it comes from…"
He was drowned out by cries from the rest of the Cast. "JACK! We're NOT interested!"
"Whatever," growled Jack, who was now fiddling with his trihorn hat.
"Now where were you?" Galadriel took a glance at Andromache's script. "Ah, Angel of Music. Jack, it's your line."
Jack twisted a strand of bristly hair around his finger, clenched the script in his other hand and read: "Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, baskin' in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharin' in me triumph!"
"My triumph, not me triumph. Pronounce the 'ng's. And don't spit when you're talking."
"Me, spit? I don't spit."
"Oh yes you do."
"Quiet, love."
"Don't be like that, Jack. Anyway, swallow before you speak, so you don't spit."
Jack made a harrumphing noise.
Arwen graciously took it up as Christine. "Angel, I hear you – speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master!"
"Oh, I'm so honoured."
"Jack! Your line!"
"Savvy! Flatterin' child you shall know me – see why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror…I'm there inside."
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange angel!"
"I'm supposed to sound mysterious here, ain't it?" mused Jack. "Right, 'ere goes…I am your Angel. Come to me Angel of Music! Wait, the Angel of Music was me a while ago."
Galadriel sighed in frustration. "Do NOT question Andrew Lloyd Webber. Go on."
Aragorn came in as Raoul. "Whose is that voice? Who is that in there?"
"I am you Angel of Music. Come to me Angel of Music!"
"Christine! Angel!"
Galadriel beamed at all of them and rose gracefully. "Very good, all of you. Continue with the good work, there's dears. I've got to get back to my dancers, now."
The Cast was thoughtful for a while after she left. Then Arwen wondered aloud: "There are two scenes in which Christine has to kiss someone, right?"
Aragorn nodded. "First Raoul in All I Ask of You, then the Phantom in the last scene."
Arwen absorbed that piece of information. Then… "So I have to kiss the Phantom?"
"Say, love," put in Jack, "I really wouldn't mind…"
"Ahem!" went Aragorn loudly.
Jack backed off, grumbling to himself. "Damnit. It's like the whole bleedin' world's 'gainst me."
Back to the Patch Crew, then.
Learning ballroom dancing was proving to have a wealth of difficulties. First and foremost, the places where feet were meant to go and where they weren't.
"Ouch!"
"Merde! Will you bloody keep your feet on your side, Grantaire?"
"Pardon?"
"Oh merde."
Then there were the common arguments.
"I mean, like, learning this ball-whatever dancing is, like, totally not cool, and…"
"Er, will you, um, shut up already?"
"Huh? Shut up? You know, that's totally, like, rude?"
Then there were the Sources of Irritation.
"Mmhmmhmmmmhmmhmmhmmhmmmmhmm…"
"Faramir. Stop singing before your head is forfeit."
"Forfeit? How on earth are you going to do that?"
"Don't make me…"
"Well, go ahead. My head's always wanted a new experience."
"Oh, GAH!"
Then there were the really serious cases of Deep Inborn Hate. Namely the couples Malfoy and Hermione, and Anna and Van Helsing.
"I will not touch that filthy Mudblood!"
Hermione gasped in rage and seriously attempted slapping Malfoy. While Celeborn struggled with her, Galadriel bent down to Malfoy's height and began to lecture him. "Draco, dear, racial prejudice is not polite. Not at all. You should really get over whatever prejudice you have against Hermione. Try and be friends."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. Galadriel opened her mouth to comment unhappily on that, but was distracted by a loud commotion behind her. Anna and Van Helsing had apparently tried to turn dance practice into a Taekwondo match.
"I will not, not, NOT, dance with him!" shrieked Anna. Every 'not' was accentuated with a blow, to which Van Helsing responded with great fervour. Celeborn was almost punched.
"STOP!" commanded Galadriel.
Everyone within hearing distance froze. Anna and Van Helsing paused mid-punch. Celeborn paused mid-escape-attempt. Grantaire paused mid-stepping-on-Eponine's-foot-by-accident.
Galadriel swept over to Anna. "Anna Valerious," she announced, bent down and whispered something into Anna's ear. Anna's eyes began to glaze over. The fight seemed to go out of her.
Then Galadriel walked over to Malfoy. "Draco Malfoy," she added, bent down and whispered something into Malfoy's ear. Malfoy's face grew blank. The slight sneer on his face seemed suddenly to be only a faint twitch of the mouth.
Galadriel stepped back and admired her handiwork. She smiled. "You may continue."
Everyone sprang back to life. Grantaire stepped on Eponine's foot and elicited a scream. The boys who were not involved in the dancing went on with their homework. Everything returned to the same old movement – except for the two erstwhile couples.
Hermione and Van Helsing had found their partners to be strangely changed. Both seemed to be staring at something far away. They refused to even blink.
"Dance," ordered Galadriel. Malfoy and Anna sprang into action like clockwork. Malfoy grabbed Hermione's hand in a vise-like grip while Anna hooked on to Van Helsing's shoulder with an equally iron hand. Then the two began to dance, whirling and flinging their hapless partners around like rag dolls.
Van Helsing tried to break out of Anna's grasp, but the princess had suddenly grown incredibly strong. Beside them, Hermione wailed as Malfoy twisted her in a mechanical underarm-turn and swept her on.
"What did you do to them?" asked Celeborn, somewhat bemused.
Galadriel only smiled secretively. "All you've got to do is be just a little firm with them," she whispered. "I don't think you'll find them any trouble now." And she was gone, sweeping across the Theatre to deal with her Cast.
Well, thought Celeborn as he directed Anna and the defenceless Van Helsing through a series of complicated New Yorks, at least it made things a lot easier.
After an hour of intense dance training, the dancers were at last released. Exhausted, they collapsed on the floor before Galadriel, who had gathered Cast and Patch Crew together for debriefing. Anna and Malfoy were still in puppet-form, sitting ramrod straight and gazing into the distance.
"We shall hold rehearsals every day after school here, in the theatre," proclaimed Galadriel, ignoring the sudden rise of groans. "Your performance will be on Sunday night in this very theatre. Plans for the weekend: I shall not call for you on Saturday morning, so you can take a break from school," sighs of relief, "and because there will be a Masquerade Ball on Saturday night, and you are expected to get costumes ready. Yes, all of you must attend."
"On Sunday morning, you are to have CCA Orientation and Auditioning. Oh, you don't know what CCAs are? Co-Curricular Activities – you've got to join at least one and participate in it. You'll see on Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon, we'll have one last dress rehearsal, and then…then the big performance. Understood?"
Everyone nodded fervently, if only to get out of there sooner.
"Good. You are dismissed." As everyone rushed towards the exit in a desperate bid for freedom, Galadriel came over and bent over Anna and Malfoy. "You are dismissed too, my dears."
Both Anna and Malfoy seemed to come out of a deep dream, gazing around puzzled. "What happened just now?"
"I see you must have forgot," smiled Galadriel. "Don't worry, it doesn't matter. Now run along, dears." She smiled eerily.
Anna and Malfoy glanced at each other and fled accordingly. If Galadriel didn't want them to remember, it would certainly be very bad.
End of ChapterNext chapter coming…Technology Class and Threats on Paper