"Okay, the way my day usually goes is, I get up whenever Dolly does, I take her out, bring her back in, sleep for another hour or so, and then do whatever for the rest of the day. Sometimes I have chores to do, like clean the house, but I don't think there's anything planned for today." Legolas and Aragorn are sitting at my kitchen table, both, I notice, looking hungry.

"Um, do you guys want something to eat?"

"Please," Aragorn says eagerly. "We haven't eaten in a long time, and we've gone through quite an ordeal."

"Okay. How do Pop-Tarts sound?"

"What?" Legolas is now very confused. "Don't you have any lembas or dried meat or fruit?"

"Okay, granola and fruit coming right up. You two stay there." I walk around the kitchen, taking out bowls and spoons and glasses. I pour granola into two bowls, then drench the cereal in cold skim milk. Next, a peach is sliced and the fruit covers the granola. I place this in front of them, along with glasses of orange juice. I hand them each a spoon, and they hesitantly start to eat.

It's odd to watch two guys who have never seen cereal before. First, the look on their faces is priceless, surprise and enjoyment, and they dig into the food with gusto. Their bowls are soon empty, and they ask for a refill.

Six bowls (three each) of granola later, I am digging through my dad's and brother's clothes, since the sweat suits they are wearing are rather dreadful looking, and I find jeans, T-shirts, and jackets that fit them. I even find socks and shoes for them, as their sizes are close to my dad's and brother's.

"Cute!" I exclaim at their appearance. "Except, we've got to do something about that hair."

Legolas looks alarmed and his hands fly to his head. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"People these days don't wear their hair like that, Legolas," I say. "For guys, it's pretty short to shoulder-length. Mostly it's just girls who have really long hair."

"It's improper for Elves to shorn their hair," Aragorn explains. "Didn't you know that?"

"Well, uh, that's a fact I didn't know," I stammer. "We don't really know a whole lot about, uh, the personal features of Elves." I look at the Elf's hair, thinking about what to do with it. Aragorn's hair looks pretty normal; it just needs to be combed a little.

"Is it really hard to braid your hair like that?" I ask.

"Not really," he says. "I can braid my hair like this in about five minutes."

"So you wouldn't mind if I brushed it out?"

He and Aragorn exchange a glance. "I imagine no harm will be done, Aubrey?"

"None at all! Wait just a moment." I run to my bathroom and take my nicest brush, then come back to Legolas. "Uh, how are those braids kept in?"

"Oh, here, let me," he says as he undoes the plaiting. I run the brush through the platinum blond hair, and it's a smooth, straight path; it's the silkiest hair I've ever felt. There's a bit of an awkward silence, so I strike up the conversation.

"So, is there anything you guys are curious about here?"

"Yes," says Aragorn. He points to the kitchen television. "What exactly is that?"

"Oh, that's the television."

"Television," both visitors repeat. I grab the remote and press on. Both are visually stunned at the sight of the small screen come to life. It's just a news program, but they are dumbfounded by it.

"Aubrey, why, well, how does this work?" Aragorn asks, still staring at the screen.

Well, I'm not exactly a "Popular Mechanics" kind of person, but I think I understand the general idea. I try to explain as plainly as I can.

"Well, a television receives signals from different places around the country, and these signals create, on the screen, images and the images make what we call 'television shows'. There are many kinds of television—by the way, we mostly call televisions 'TV's'—shows: fictional comedies and dramas, and informative, like the kind you see here."

"So, a television, uh, 'TV' receives images from far-off places," Aragorn surmises.

"Yes, that's just like how a palant-" Legolas's voice drops off as he and Aragorn look at each other, their eyes wide. Aragorn lunges from his chair, grasping the television set.

"This is a thing of evil, sending images of what will be from an evil institution!" He angrily pulled it out from it's place on the hutch and was about to carry it away when its wires connecting the TV to the wall jerked him back. He swiftly pulled out his knife from the pile of weapons on the table and sliced the wires off, to my horror.

"Aragorn, you, you, gimme that!" I pull the TV away from him. "This is not a thing of evil. It brings helpful information to homes all across the world, and it has helped this world for over fifty years!"

Aragorn sheepishly looked down, avoiding my stare. I know I have hurt him, but still, I never expected him to try to destroy our TV!

"I will apologize on the behalf of my friend," Legolas quietly states. "You see, we come from where evil is found in so many unsuspecting ways. Palantirs, for example work in the same way you described for your television."

I smile at that thought. Yeah, he's right.

A while later, with the TV back in its place, I have already shown the two visitors the computer, my CD player, the radio, all the digital clocks, batteries, the paper shredder, the refrigerator, the electric keyboard, and pretty much everything else that uses electricity. My tour generated many "ooh's" and "aah's", though I never really found the can opener that fascinating myself.

"And what is your life like, Aubrey?" Legolas asks excitedly. "You seem to know all about ours from your history books. What do you do for schooling, for entertainment?"

"Well, I'll be a tenth-grader this year. Here, basically everyone starts going to school when they're around five years old. We learn math, reading, writing, science, history, art, music, pretty much everything. As for entertainment, well, I like to watch movies, and paint and read and write."

"That's generally what we learned when we were young," Aragorn comments. "I was taught by probably the best instructors in all of Middle-Earth. Do your, uh, history books mention my life, Aubrey?"

"Oh, yes, of course they do. Let's see, I know you were raised in Rivendell, are Isildur's heir, were a friend of Gandalf, pretty much everything."
His face goes a little red. "Does it mention Arwen at all?"

Legolas glances at his friend and laughs, a light, cheerful laugh. "Aragorn gets quite embarrassed whenever Arwen is mentioned. But really, does it mention her history?"

"Yes, it does," I reaffirm them. "She's Elrond's daughter, and-"

"Sorry for interrupting," Aragorn says hurriedly, "but, does it turn out all right for us in the end?"

I think about how I should answer. "Well, you do get married and have a child. So yes, I guess you could say that you ends all right." He seems satisfied at that.

"And what about you, Legolas?" I ask, feeling brave. "I never really learned much about you."

This time, his face goes red and Aragorn laughs. "You are looking at the most hopeless romantic in all the Elven race!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. He's been chasing after one Elf-maid after another, one for nearly one hundred years. They eventually all marry off to other Elf-men."

He's free; take him! "Are you currently chasing after an Elf-maid, Legolas?"

"Sadly, no," Aragorn answers for him. "The last time he was romancing, the maid herself came to King Thranduil and asked for him to keep his son away from her forever."

"Oh, poor Legolas." I laugh with Aragorn, and eventually Legolas even smiles. "Say, would you guys like to try some popcorn?"

"What's that?" Legolas asks.

"It's a snack that, well, it's kind of hard to explain, so I'll just make some." I go to the pantry and pull out a popcorn package, remove the plastic, and throw it in the microwave. I press POPCORN, and let the machine do what it does best. Aragorn and Legolas's attention is taken away from the plastic wrapper to the humming microwave, as they watch in amazement as the popcorn bag goes 'round and 'round. They both jump as the first kernel pops, and then laugh as the bag expands. The timer eventually dings, and I pull the steaming bag out. I dump the white and yellow popcorn into a bowl, and offer it to them. They each take a bite, and, like with the granola, their eyes widen in enjoyment. The entire bowl is emptied in under ten minutes, and I gab a couple of Fantas from the fridge. I pop the can, then offer one to each of the guests.

Aragorn takes a long swig, as does Legolas. I wait for it, wait for it, wait fo-

"BWWARRRPP!" I giggle helplessly at the horrified look on the Elf's face. Aragorn laughs, too, and I guess that Elves never knew they could be stimulated to such "horrid personal functions" by carbonation.