A/N: Well I tried. In my defense, I wasn't expecting this chapter to be this long.


Chapter 5: A Flag on the Marble Arch

It took Quinton longer than he expected to locate Lydia. Truthfully, he could not fathom why he thought he would find her standing right outside the door. As soon as he walked into the decidedly empty hallway, he set off in search of her.

The din of chatter echoed through the corridors. The North Pole had no need for a news program. The gossip chain sufficed to spread news throughout entire factory. In such an emotionally vulnerable state, Lydia would no doubt seek out the quiet solitude of some lonely corner outside the eyes and ears of his fellow workers. Few such corners existed inside the main workshop, but after countless years, Quinton knew them all. Thus he found her with relative ease standing between a column and a wall, backed into the corner like a wounded animal. Not wanting to startle her, he raised his hand to knock on the column, but his fist had not reached the height of his shoulder when she turned and looked him in the eye. Her face was quite pale, but so were the whites of her eyes, which told him she had not been crying.

"Hello," he said for want of anything else to say.

"I heard you coming."

"That's new," said Quinton, flashing a grin.

She looked away. Lydia grabbed a strand of hair behind her ear and twisted it between her fingers. He once again caught sight of the points of her ears and willed himself not to stare. Quinton suddenly realized that he had never seen her hair arranged this way, half-braided, the rest hanging free. He might have made a comment on the style looking becoming, but he thought it might upset her. She fidgeted where she stood, but she had nowhere to run.

"Are you alright?"

"Quinton, what am I doing here?"

"I believe you were about to answer that when everything went sideways."

"I am so sorry," she exclaimed. Her face flushed red, and she buried her face in her hands.

"Don't be. It's been far too long since someone was able to genuinely terrify Curtis," said Quinton, making another attempt at humor.

"I should be beyond this sort of thing."

"What, emotions? You're only human, my dear."

"Am I?"

"Oh dear. I think the situation is a bit more complicated than I thought."

Lydia scoffed lightly and leaned against the wall.

Yes, I agree, thought Quinton. Complicated is putting it mildly. And for your sake, I shall ignore your very Bernard-like body language.

"Look," Quinton began. "He didn't mean any harm. I know what he said was entirely out of line, but he really didn't know."

"How could he not know, Quinton? How could he not have seen?"

"Curtis is a brilliant inventor. And he has his moments, I promise you, he does. But sometimes…all right, most of the time, he's just clueless. There's not a malicious bone in him. He's just…" Quinton paused looking for the least insulting word he could find. "Misguided. Look, I'm not saying you should apologize. It was incredibly insensitive to say those things in front of you and Bernard. If you could avoid killing him though, I would consider it a personal favor."

Lydia looked into his earnest face.

"I will try."

She attempted a smile, but it fell quickly as her gaze fell once more to the floor.

Quinton leaned against the wall next to her.

"What's the matter," he asked quietly.

Lydia took a deep breath. Quinton could see that her face was lined with some kind of deep impenetrable pain. He waited until at last she spoke.

"He won't even look at me. Quinton, I dreamed of him nearly every night while I was in Elbereth. I couldn't remember my name or where I was born or how I got there, but somehow, I remembered him. As soon as I got here, I remembered everything, and I knew I had to find him. And now, it's as though something's broken between us."

Quinton sighed.

"We both know Bernard can be a stubborn fool when it suits him. But he's in shock. We all are. And this lot will be too by the end of the day."

He gestured toward the crowd of elves milling about on the factory floor.

"Maybe Curtis is right then," said Lydia. "I am a Disturber of the Peace. In more ways than one."

Quinton could not help but laugh.

"Sometimes the peace needs to be disturbed. If it were sunny every day and never rained, how would the plants grow?"

"I'm not sure much of anything grows here, Quinton."

"You know what I mean. In any case, just because you're one of us now doesn't mean you're not allowed to have feelings. Unless our woodland counterparts are missing part of their upper cranial development."

He tried to see if his sardonic remark had at least managed a grin from her, but still she stared at the floor, her face grim and taut. Quinton stood in front of her and took hold of her shoulders, looking at her face until she met his eyes.

"You've been through so much," he said. "Much more than any human should have to endure. And these people making you into an elf isn't going to change that you were, for all intents and purposes, murdered, and are now, more or less, without any family. You've just been accused of murder by the very people you have come here to help, and your closest friend is not exactly giving you the warmest of greetings. I would be more concerned if you didn't have some kind of outburst. As for our mutual friend, give him time. This is all a bit much for all of us, and more still to come I imagine. We'll all have to do our own adjusting. I'm sure as he gets used to the situation, he'll come round."

Lydia closed her eyes and sighed.

"Come back," he urged. "We'll get it sorted. Though, maybe you should do most of the talking this time."

Lydia considered it for a moment then groaned.

"I don't know, Quinton. I'm not convinced he'll want me back. I think he's frightened of me."

"You don't know that. He wanted to come after you himself, but I wouldn't allow it. Bernard is a complex elf, tough on the outside but loving and affectionate on the in-oh you're talking about Santa. Did I not mention? No, I suppose I didn't. He believes your story now."

"Really, Quinton?"

"Yes, really. I showed him the original documents, the letters and what-have-you, and he came round."

"You kept them, after all these years?"

"Yes, yes, I have already been properly chastised for my resourcefulness. Are you coming?"

She sighed with resignation.

"All right," she said. "Lead the way. "

When they arrived back at the office doors, Quinton knocked as a courtesy then walked in without waiting for an answer. Bernard was scowling in his chair and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with all the other occupants of the room. Lydia crossed the office space to him, ignoring all the others. She knelt beside him and put her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she whisper. "I didn't mean to-"

Bernard shook his head, cutting her off.

"I told them everything."

Shocked, Lydia finally looked at the others. Tears were in Carol's eyes. Beside her, her husband looked as though someone had cut out his tongue. Curtis had gone completely white.

Bernard tore his eyes away from hers and pulled his arm from her grip.

Lydia continued staring at him for a few moments until Quinton put a hand on her shoulder. She held back a sigh and got to her feet.

"Sir, allow me to apologize for my outburst," she began, but the Clauses waved off her apology and ushered her into the chair next to Bernard. Quinton stood like a sentinel behind her.

"You'll have to forgive us," said Carol. This is a lot to take in."

"I understand, Madam. You must have many, many questions for me."

"I'll say. Let's start with, if you died way back when, how are you here now?"

Before Lydia could answer, there was a knock at the door. Curtis opened it, and the elf-maid Judy walked in carrying a tray laden with several mugs.

"I brought you the cocoa you asked for Santa," she said as she set the tray down on the desk.

Judy turned to leave when she caught sight of Lydia. Her jaw dropped. Then her face broke into a massive smile.

"I heard you were back!" she exclaimed. Lydia stood to greet her, and Judy threw her arms around her. Lydia stood frozen by the gesture, but after a moment, she returned it.

"I didn't believe it," said Judy. "I'm so glad to see you. I just can't believe it. How is this happening?"

"Judy, I think she was about to get into that," said Santa.

"Yeah, so if you want to get back to the kitchens," added Curtis.

Judy's face fell.

"No, please, sir let her stay," said Lydia as she returned to her chair. "She was very helpful to us before."

"Really?" said Curtis.

"I had to have an accomplice I could trust," said Quinton. "She and Abby made magnificent spies."

Judy smiled, and her already sparkling face glowed.

"Fine with me. Now about how you managed to come back from the dead," said Santa.

"I'm way more curious about the other elves," interrupted Carol.

"There are other elves?" Judy squeaked. "And they're coming here?"

"According to her," said Carol.

"Where are they? Where do they come from? What is like there? What about the other elves? How are they related to these us? Are they really different? Are we going to meet them? What are they like?"

"At the moment they are very cold and growing impatient," said a voice from the doorway.

Lydia immediately rose to her feet at the sight of her commander standing beneath the archway.

"Gilrohir."

The newcomer stood a tall and stony presence in the doorway. He was clad in travelling gear with no armor, but unlike his subordinate, he had not left his weaponry behind. His quiver and bow were strapped to his back, and twin daggers lay flush against his boots. A sword hung from his belt. He also carried a black horn, which hung like a shining crescent opposite his blade. His golden hair was arranged much like Lydia's, with a thin intricate braid hanging over the sheet of yellow which flowed down to the middle of his back. His dark blue eyes had pinpricks of light in their irises, and they glared at the occupants of the room.

"May I introduce my commanding officer, Gilrohir."

Everyone, save Lydia, stared at the newcomer. Quinton looked upon him in awe, as a paleontologist would look if he came home to find a brachiosaurus in his backyard. Judy's face flushed at the sight of Gilrohir, and Carol clutched at the collar of her dress.

"Good grief, you are pretty," said Santa.

Gilrohir's stared at him.

"Thank you, sir," he said slowly. "I am spoken for."

The elf commander snapped his gaze toward his protege.

"Minariel, what have you been doing? Who is this man?"*

"It's hard to explain."

"Perhaps you should try doing it in Elvish?"

Lydia blinked at him for a moment.

"Gilrohir, may I speak with you a moment?"

Gilrohir ignored the bemused expressions on the others' faces and strode out the door.

"A moment, please," said Lydia to the group, then she followed her commander and closed the door behind them.

As soon as she had joined him, Gilrohir attempted to round on her, but she cut him off before he could say a word.

"Gilrohir, that man and his wife are human."

"Yes, I know."

"I am human. Or rather, I was."

Gilrohir stared at her a long moment.

"I know."

Lydia was not finished. Despite the frustrated glower on Gilrohir's face, she pressed on.

"My name is Lydia Hightower. My father's name was Richard, and my mother's name was Margaret. I had two younger sisters. My middle sister's name was Josephine, and my youngest sister we called Meg. They all perished in a fire when I was very young. I was raised by my father's older brother. His name was William, and he was the finest man I have ever known."

"Is this necessary?"

"Why didn't you tell me? You knew who I was and where I came from all that time. You had to have known. Why didn't you tell me?"

Gilrohir stared her down, his eyes boring into her, irate at her insolence, but she stared right back, her jaw set.

"I couldn't," he said.

"Balderdash," insisted Lydia. "For one hundred and fifty years, I couldn't remember my own name, let alone where I came from."

"I had my orders, the same as you," growled Gilrohir. "Lady Varda's instructions were explicit. Tell you nothing. You had to remember on your own."

"Why?" she demanded.

"I have no idea. I do know that we still have a mission to complete, and don't you forget it. Now who are those people?"

"They're who we're here to see. All save the man and woman at the desk, everyone here, everyone in the village. They're all elves, Gilrohir. Every single one of them. Lady Varda was right. I did know the way."

Gilrohir looked about him with an impenetrable look on his face. Lydia could not begin to fathom what thoughts may be going through her commander's mind.

"Shall we go back in then?" she asked.

Gilrohir looked at her and raised an annoyed eyebrow.

"Introduce us. And properly this time. Then you perhaps you can explain to me what in the world is going on here."

"I will try, though it may be difficult, and some of them might need to fill in the gaps."

"As long as I get some answers."

They returned to the office once more. Santa Claus stood and held out his hand to Gilrohir. Gilrohir looked at Lydia, and at her silent assurance, held out his right hand. The man at the desk shook it, and when he told the elf commander his name, Gilrohir merely looked at him blankly. The name meant nothing to him.

"This is my wife, Carol," continued Santa. "Judy works in the kitchens. Quinton's head of Research and Development. Curtis works there too, and he's our Number Two elf, under Bernard here, who's our Head Elf. He's my second in command."

Bernard, who had all but won his staring contest with the floor, finally allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and looked up at Lydia's commander.

Gilrohir had taken a good look at every person as he heard their name. He scanned each of them with his penetrating gaze. He had done so with the same deliberately disinterested stare that Bernard met him with now. Yet when his midnight eyes met Bernard's deep brown ones, his jaw nearly dropped. He stared at Bernard with an inexplicable expression for several moments, until Bernard began to fidget under the weight of his gaze. For the first time since she had known him, Lydia saw something akin to uncertainty on Gilrohir's face.

"Gilrohir? Is something wrong?"

Her voice seemed to break through his mystified spell, and Gilrohir shook his head.

"I know you all have many questions," said Lydia addressing the room. "But would it not be better to delay any more conversation until the others have arrived? As you said, Gilrohir, they must be impatient to come in."

Gilrohir tore his eyes away from Bernard and gave her a hard look. Without a word, he walked to the window and opened it. He removed the horn from his belt and brought it to his lips. The call burst forth from the window and echoed out into the village and beyond. Quinton, Curtis, and the Clauses joined Gilrohir at the window and looked out onto the grounds. All the elves of the North Pole that were out on the grounds had turned toward the source of the horn blast and were looking toward the window with bemusement. Some looked alarmed. Gilrohir made the call three times then turned to his subordinate.

"Come."

The Clauses, Curtis, Quinton, and Bernard followed them out of the office, out of the factory, and onto the village grounds.

"This is it, Bernard," said Quinton, practically bouncing alongside him again. "We're about to meet the elves. Our relatives. This is so exciting!"

Bernard paid no attention to him. Quinton was alone in his excitement. They could hear the clanging of metal and muffled hoofbeats. It sounded louder and louder until it turned to thunder which echoed throughout the village. The elves all stopped their activity and looked toward the source of the rumbling noise. A dark line formed on the horizon and became larger and more clear as the company approached.

The elves began forming groups and fretted amongst themselves. As the riders arrived in the village, several of the elves cried out in fear.

"It's alright!" yelled Santa and his wife. "It's okay, everyone."

"Everything's fine," said Carol. "Don't be afraid."

Curtis, Quinton, and Lydia all went about the elves as well, offering their reassurances that the elves should not be afraid. Bernard did so himself and stood between the elves and the incoming group, shielding a group of particularly young elves from the riders.

"Geez, Gilrohir, you could have at least given us time to warn them," yelled Santa over the sound of hoofbeats and the frightened clamor of the elves.

Elves who had been working in the factories had run out to see what the commotion was. Judy found her coworkers in the kitchens and told them in brief what was happening and urged them to stand back. All the elves were out in the village now. They shrunk back as the horses came nearer, some of them taking refuge behind their leaders.

"Daro!"

At Gilrohir's command, the riders formed a line and halted their horses. Gilrohir barked another command, and they dismounted. In a single file line, they marched toward their commander. As soon as they reached their commander, the company turned in unison and stood at attention before him. At his third command, they did an about-face, their gear rattling as they turned their backs to their commander and faced the occupants of the village.

Gilrohir rose his voice.

"I hereby present, the Elves of Elbereth."


*Italics indicate dialog spoken in Elvish.

-Title from "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen