The Multiverse--
A Glorfindel Book

By Katt, Maggie, Eliza, and Sam

Chapter Four: The Plots Are Made

K sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Okay, what did I miss?"

E told her.

"So, M is in an asylum going to get her part of the narrator removed?"

"Yeah, and here we have plans for a rescue mission."

"No."

"No?"

"We do nothing."

"What? We can't just let her destroy our power!"

"No. She wanted us to do nothing so that is exactly what we shall do. Selfish Chinese swear, always poncing around after that damn elf. I'm going to kill him the next time I see him."

"Having a nervous breakdown isn't exactly poncing," S commented mildly.

"You hush," snapped K. "Either way, she got us into this, and now she screwed up. We do nothing, we let it be, and if Glor wants to rescue her, fine. If not, she can die."

"I guess…" E agreed uneasily. "It's just not like her to have no backup plan. She knew the danger. She wouldn't have risked everything. Not really.So, in conclusion," she rambled on before promptly being sat on by both S and K.

"So," said S.

"Yeah," said K. "Down with the capitalistic imperialistic dogma! Via la SPORK!"

"How do we take down the CID by the spork?"

"I meant, live by the spork."

"That's 'viva la spork.'"

"Whatever."

"Eh?" said S. "Er… okay. Well, I think that we should begin preparation to begin thinking about thinking about beginning to prepare a plan about planning to prepare"

"Right. We must reclaim rightful ownership of… the Whirring Device!"

"Yes," said S. "The Whirring Device!"

"I say," said E, sitting up finally, "that we amass our forces, you know the ones I'm talking about," she added with a nod toward K, "and, in addition, bring in anyone who is still pissing themselves in fear of us. You know, our allies. Gentleman, tonight we plan a siege."

"This is fun!" quoted K. "Yay!"

"You two start making the appropriate phone calls. I'm going to go find a flock of highly irate hummingbirds."

"Hummingbirds?" asked an astonished S. "But… why?"

"Because," said E, tossing a maniac smile over her shoulder, "who the fuck would ever think about hummingbirds?"

"OK," said K, and then conjured up the spirit of the One Cell Phone of Power.

"Gah!" said S. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh, this was before your time. This is Ash Fornorir, the One Phone to Rule them All, now retired. He also has all the numbers we shall be requiring."

"Oh."

--

Meanwhile, things were happening at the headquarters of the Alliance. Stella, who had proclaimed she would now answer only to the name of 'Dublevey', was now working on the skylights. Luxor was helping coordinate guards from different fandoms into a coherent defense system, and Elizabeth, who the others had taken to calling Beth, had disappeared among the books where she was Researching the exploits of the dreaded Narrators.

"Bayley!" An excited looking wizard rushed in. "Good news! They've caught the lead narrator. She was trying to infiltrate M.I.F.T.! They're preparing the surgery now, she's to be executed this afternoon!"

--

Meanwhile, in MIFT, Glorfindel was pacing. And talking to himself.

And the medical staff were preparing to up his medication.

"Get a hold of yourself man!" Glorfindel chided. "You've got less than fourteen days left in this Eru forsaken piss hole, and you can't fuck this up for myself! Listen you! We can't rush off gallantly to save that blond! You must remember! The twister! The bondage! Her, ugh, friends!"

Glorfindel sat down on his bed, chin in one hand.

"You were never ever in love with her in any way. It was the power of the Narrative, that's what the doctors say. 'Any corruption of the canon is ultimately negative, no matter how pleasant the immediate effects may be.' Not only is it detrimental to my own canonical character, but to the entire Tolkien plot continuum! I mean, while I was off snogging THAT, I missed my entrance and Arwen had to take over. ARWEN! It made no sense!"

Glorfindel got up again. "It wasn't worth it! It was never worth it! It's the weeping; you've got 'Nice Guy' compulsion. She turns on the water works and you heel. It's sick!"

Suddenly he stopped and threw a fist into the air.

"I'm stronger than this! She doesn't have a hold on me anymore! I am my own man and—oh who am I kidding?"

Glor bolted from the room, a plan forming in his mind.

--

M was beginning to believe that she was well and truly screwed. At least, the part of her brain that hadn't given up and started gibbering in despair a long time ago was.

The truth is, M really hadn't been faking. She had checked herself into M.I.F.T. hoping to be rehabilitated. She hadn't counted on being turned in, and being turned in by Glorfindel had HURT. She had trusted him, and the thought that she had probably deserved that betrayal frightened her. She was unaware that the fear had shown and had been taken for a plea of help. At this point, M wasn't aware of anything, really. She barely registered that she was in pain, and she vaguely knew that she was about to die. That was all right. She was tired.

--

Glorfindel sprinted down the corridor, slamming into orderlies and tripping over patients as he went.

After he ran over the same orderly twice, he decided it was time to stop and ask for directions. He approached the information desk, where a large bored woman sat. She had red cat eye glasses and seemed to be playing one of those spurious card games that come preinstalled in Windows.

Glorfindel coughed.

"May I help you sir?" the woman asked, her gaze never leaving her monitor.

"Er, yes, you see… um.."

The woman clicked away. Glorfindel shifted from foot to foot.

"I hear voices and I need a lobotomy," he blurted.

"Lobotomies are on the seventh floor, room 2B, next to the armory and across from the archery shed."

"How fortunate!"

And for the first time, the woman looked him square in the face.

"That it is so close!" dithered Glorfindel, backing away. "And so… well protected from, you know… ah…"

He could feel the woman's eyes boring into his back all the way across the room before he disappeared behind a corner. The woman picked up the phone receiver off her desk and dialed a three digit number with her meaty fingers.

"Yes, this is Sherly at information. I believe we have a 'Delusion of Grandeur' with a severe 'Charming Hero/Nice Guy' compulsion heading up to your level… 'Daring Rescue', that's what I thought too. You have a nice day now."

--

M was laying, strapped down on ther back, on a very uncomfortable bed, humming "99 Bottles of Beer" under her breath, when the door burst open. A terrified squeak escaped her lips before seeing the figure in the doorway, who also paused.

Glorfindel had forgotten how blonde she really was. He approached the bed almost with something akin to trepidation and began to work open the straps that held her down.

M continued to stare and say nothing.

"Well," said Glorfindel into the silence. "You know—"

Suddenly he found himself with an arm full of Narrator, which wasn't so bad now that he was thinking about it. M trembled and smiled and thought about saying something along the lines of "I thought you would never come!" but then she rather thought that he would.

"Predictable," she muttered instead, and snuggled closer.

Glorfindel laughed. "Yeah."

Suddenly a voice from outside the room cried "We know you are in there! Put the arrows down and step away from the Narrator!"

"Any good ideas there?" he asked her.

"Meeble?" was the reply.

"Yeah. Great. Thanks."

"Sir, please step away from the narrator. We know it's difficult, but it's all for your own good," came the voice from the other side of the door.

"Yes, but it's not really for her own good, is it?" Glorfindel retorted.

"Sir, that's not the point. You're almost free of her, we promise. She may have threatened you into doing this, but we assure you, she's had her powers removed. She can do nothing to you. Just step away."

"Is that true?" Glorfindel asked her. "They already performed the surgery?"

"Cheese," came the answer. Glorfindel correctly interpreted this as 'yes'.

"Well there goes Plan B," he muttered.

"Window!" M exclaimed.

"Yes, that's a window, M—" Glorfindel agreed absently, before realization struck. "Oh! That wasn't random. You think we should jump?"

"Swim!"

"You think we should jump and swim. It's a good a plan as any."

Moments later, the door burst open. The asylum guards rushed in to find the room empty and the window open, gauzy curtains waving in the breeze."

--

"Hi, yes, this is Sherly from the information desk at MIFT. Just calling to confirm that the surgery has indeed been performed, and all of M's Narrating abilities have been disabled. Yes, ah, one small problem, they seem to have, uh, escaped out a window. Yes, they… another character named Glorfindel who… no, that's not our problem, sir. Because both of them were released form our facility with two clean bills of heath and THAT, sir, makes it your problem. Thank you."

"Damn!" The Chief slammed his telephone down on his desk, effectively squashing his own fingers. "By Lucifer's Beard!" He dialed his secretary. "Bring in our special task force!" he barked into the receiver, and gently set it down. He waited a few tense, impatient moments before the door to his office burst open and in spilled Dublevey, Luxor, and Bailey in a tangle of limbs an bright yellow yarn.

"And the yarn is for…?"

"CATS!" cried Dublevey unhelpfully.

"Quiet you!" cried the Chief. "I don't need more trouble. There's been an escape, the narrator who was due to be executed and a canon character form the Tolkienverse."

"What! Who?" asked Bayley.

"Elf lord, name of Glorfindel. Do you know him?"

Bayley was flushed with excitement. "He's legendary sir! He's the only elf to have willingly been friends with a Narrator. He was committed to MIFT for it."

"I see. It's starting to make sense now. Word is he rescued her."

"Oh dear."

"That's putting it mildly. I want them found and arrested A.S.A.P.!"

"Yes sir, Chief!" Dublevey saluted. "I'm on it!"

"Good." There was an awkward pause. "You're dismissed," the Chief elaborated.

Nothing. Blank looks.

"GO!" The office emptied.

--

M had absolutely no idea what was going on. She knew she was free, which was good. And she knew Glorfindel was with her which was comforting. She suspected that things were about to go pear-shaped on them, but right now she was more concerned about the fact that she wanted to speak and that her tongue was NOT cooperating. She was also worried about how her brain kept going fuzzy every time she tried to think.

"Yurk!" cried Glorfindel. It wasn't that M was heavy, just that carrying her for such a long way through such a dark forest was tiring.

Glorfindel tripped over a rock and dropped her.

"…ow." M clambered to her feed, propping herself up on what appeared to be a furry brown rock… with teeth.

"Rawr!" The R.O.U.S leapt, knocking M to the ground and bearing down on Glorfindel.

"Gah!" Glorfindel grabbed a branch and swung it round, catching the Rodent on the nose. He swung it again and the Rodent went flying. It fell with a soft thud on a patch of white sand and immediately disappeared with a sucking sound.

"I thought you said they didn't exist!" M shouted.

"Eh?" said Glorfindel. "You are HEALED!"

"Eh?" said M. "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

"What? Healed?"

"We must find the Man in Black!"

"Er…"

"Aaaaas yooooooou wiiiiiiiish!"

"Are you quoting?"

"Argh?"

"You are quoting, aren't you? Bugger."

"I'm sorry."

"At least you are coherent when you quote. We need to get your creativity back."

"It's guarded by sixty men!"

Editor's Note: So, M's creativity has been stripped, but there are still three Narrators who are up to something to get control of the Whirring Device. Glorfindel obviously has deep psychological problems, and now the Alliance Special Task Force (special in the head, obviously) is after him. Intrigued? There's more!