"Okay, okay, okay," I breathe in and continue to pace, "okay, okay. Um, okay, you are not in Middle-Earth any more," I explain to Legolas and Aragorn. I have seated them on the living room couch, which they commented on, saying it was "most comfortable". Legolas is petting Dolly on his lap, and he seems to take to the dog, after I spent ten minutes explaining that yes, it was a dog, no, it was not a squirrel, and no, Aragorn, you may not eat it. "Look, I don't know how you got here, but I just want to say that if we all remain calm, things should settle down. First, my parents will be home any minute, and they're definitely going to be, er, surprised, by all this."

"Young lady," states Legolas, "if we aren't in Middle-Earth, then just where are we?"

I sigh, knowing that I've explained this three times already. I walk to the library, retrieve the globe, and set it before them. I point to North America. "You are on this continent, in the United States of America, and in this little area called Minnesota. It's a state; the U.S. is divided into 50 of them."

The two look at each other, a look of confusion on both of their faces. I say, "Look, let's concentrate on something else. We're going to have to do something about your clothing."

"What's wrong with what we're wearing?" asks Aragorn a little frostily.

"Aragorn," sighs Legolas in a perceptive tone, "we are in the house of a guest. We can't wear out mud-spattered clothes." He gives me a small smile, and I have to take all my strength from falling over.

"Okay," I say, my voice squeaking a little, "I think my dad's clothes might fit you. And just to warn you, today's styles are a little different from what you're used to."

"Yes," Aragorn says. "Um, we've been meaning to ask you, Aubrey, why you are wearing men's leggings."

I look down at my flare jeans, a little tattered but still okay for wearing at home. "These are called 'jeans'. Everyone wears them nowadays. Most women don't wear skirts or dresses everyday, like they did where you came from."

"Will we wear these 'jeans'?" the Elf asks.

"Yes, and you will probably wear T-shirts and sweatshirts since it's kinda cold out."

My guests look at me with hesitation, but then they both rise from the couch. "Alright," they say together.

"No, you have to unzip the pants before you put them on!" I shout at the closed door into my parent's bedroom.

"Un-what?" asks Aragorn.

"Unzip. You know, the zipper, the little metal doodad at the-" I choose my words carefully- "front of the pants."

"Do I put the belt over my left shoulder, or my right shoulder?" inquires Legolas.

"No, the belt goes through the belt loops!" I shout in frustration. It's difficult to give guys who have never seen 21st century clothing directions on putting them on without helping physically, but I'm not about going to do that, and God alone knows if Middle-Earth residents wear underwear.

"But what, how, do I, I can't wear my bow and quiver without a belt of some kind!" Legolas informs me. "This is just nonsense. Wait, did you say the zip-thing is in the front?"

I sigh and sink down to the floor, my knees at my chin. Maybe I should have let them keep their clothes, say they found them at a costume shop, but that would just be way too conspicuous.

"I think I've got it all figured out," Aragorn announces. He opens the door and comes out for my inspection. His jeans are on backwards, his T-shirt's inside-out, and he himself just looks frustrated. I sigh and walk into the bedroom, just in time to see Legolas struggling with his socks. I pick out two sweat suits and hand them to the men.

I cautiously ask, "Uh, do you two wear underwear?" The look they give me just makes me say, "Forget it; just take that stuff off and put these on. Slip this sweatshirt over your head and put your arms through the sleeves, then pull the pants over your legs and up to your waist. I'll help with shoes later."

I exit the room and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, just in time to see my parents' car come up the driveway.