Author's Note: Sorry for my long absence! Rest assured that I have not been driven quite insane…as far as I know. Anyway, the semester got crazy busy, so not only was there little time to write, but there was also little time for orcs to attack me. They did what they could, as you shall read, but at least I made it through my first year of college without being sent to a mental institution. I hope you guys enjoy this update; please be sure to review!
. . .
Florida, if you have ever visited, hardly needs any more dangers on the roads. The drivers tend to forget that there actually are other people driving around them, and they are especially careless while driving well below the speed limit in the left lane when students need to hurry up and get to class. But since bad traffic can almost always be worsened, and since it has such an immediate effect on the patience of most human beings, it is a common target for evil forces.
Such was the case one Saturday about eleven o' clock in the morning, just after Estel had attended the last session of an amazing conference. The drive back to school was already a bit long, but Thalion was hoping the time would pass quickly. She had perhaps never enjoyed three days so much, but they had cost her dearly in regard to getting much homework done or sleep slept, and she desperately looked forward to rest.
And that was why it was so evilly stolen from her.
It's truly amazing how random "construction projects" seem to pop up right in the middle of the highway, especially when they are unannounced and of a strange kind. But no one questions those sorts of things since technically such delays are not that uncommon (thanks a lot, bureaucrats!), and so it was that no government agents were immediately called to come and inquire of the curious construction crew that soon appeared on the road for which Estel was bound.
One of the workers was at least twelve feet tall, and his bright orange construction vest was having difficulty staying on his semi-corporal body. There were then four regular-sized persons, their faces obscured by bandanas and sunglasses. Well, obscured to the drivers; if a bystander had actually come up and spoken to them face to face, the workers probably couldn't be mistaken for anything other than orcs.
"We look like complete idiots," mumbled Snaga 3 to Snaga 299,792,458m/s as he shifted his vest uncomfortably.
"Yeah; orange is definitely not your color," jeered Snaga 6.023*10^23, dodging an attempted slap from Snaga 3.
"Shut your yap," snapped Snaga 1. "You want the Boss to hear you?"
"Begin the work," came the booming command of the Dark Lord himself, as if on cue. The orcs didn't ask any questions or continue their quarrelling, quickly grabbing some of the construction tools they had brought and going about their task.
There wasn't actually any real task at all; the orcs just acted like they were supposed to be there by hitting the road's surface with picks and sticks that looked from afar like electric drills. One of them made sound effects through a megaphone to sell the act, and aside from the occasional honking of the traffic that was now at a standstill, no one thought to protest this seemingly pointless construction endeavor.
As soon as Thalion saw the brake lights ahead, she groaned inwardly. A fellow student had kindly offered to drive her back to her apartment, so at least Estel was not the one who had to worry about stopping and starting (one of her pet peeves since, as a Texan, she enjoys going as fast as is possible without getting pulled over). But still, traffic is clearly evidence of a fallen world, and the thought of being stuck on this highway of all highways for who knows how long was not at all appealing to the poor writer.
"Oh, great," the driver signed as the car slowed down and joined the seemingly eternal line of vehicles. "This will take a while."
Estel leaned back in her seat, her heavy eyelids threatening to close. But just before she dared to attempt a short nap, she spotted a figure walking along the shoulder towards their car. Even from a distance, she recognized the Ranger of the North almost immediately, and she blinked a few times to makes sure she wasn't hallucinating. Why, oh why did this always happen to her?
Aragorn finally arrived beside the vehicle, having come from the direction of the traffic jam's source. He motioned for Thalion to let down her window, but the writer first turned a nervous glance towards her driver, who was staring at the strange man outside the car in shock. Estel laughed shakily, trying to think of an excuse that would keep the other student from freaking out.
"Um, maybe this guy, um, knows about the wreck up ahead, or whatever," stumbled Thalion, again trying to casually laugh but failing miserably.
"Okay…" the other student consented, though she didn't seem to like the idea of talking to the weirdo much. Estel, out of options, simply swallowed hard and let her window down slowly, issuing a quick prayer for survival.
"Good morning, ma'am," Aragorn greeted, apparently having the decency to play along with Thalion's desire to not draw attention to herself.
"Good morning, sir," Estel replied. "Do you know what seems to be the hold up?"
The ranger's brows creased, not because he was confused, but because he wasn't sure how to relate the information without sounding to the outside party like a lunatic. At last, he formulated a response that was good enough.
"There are apparently some, er, people blocking the path. But several upholders of justice are in route to the incident. They would like to inform you to stay in your vehicle but remain calm. Hopefully things will get cleared out within the hour."
"An hour?" the driver moaned beside Thalion. "That'll take forever!"
The ranger chuckled a bit, and even though it was only half-hearted, it brought a smile to Estel's face to hear it. "Don't worry," Aragorn answered after a moment, "I'm sure you will have plenty of time to get wherever you're going." He glanced at the semi-formal attire of the two girls and raised his brows. "Do you have business somewhere?"
Now Thalion knew her muse had gone too far. Surely the driver thought this was a clear sign that the ranger was a creepy stalker or something. Estel refrained from eye contact with her kind peer, knowing that the silence alone confirmed her fears, and instead pretended to not be screaming on the inside.
"We're just headed home," she told Aragorn. "We've been at a conference."
The ranger beamed. "Really? What about?"
Why in the world is he so chatty? the writer yelled in her mind. Of course, she technically knew the answer. She had been bragging to her muses for weeks about this event, and Aragorn was no doubt trying to hear something about it. It's just that his timing couldn't have been worse.
But she might as well humor him; maybe a rant would make him leave, and her host would never judge her for this tirade.
"Well," began the writer before taking a deep breath. "It was the Ligonier conference, which was focused on the heart of the Gospel this year. It was fantastic; they had some great guys, like Mohler and Lawson and of course Sproul. They got to dig into the significance a whole bunch of redemptive historical events; the even referenced Tolkien's idea of the eucatastrophe in regard to the birth of the new creation that occurred in the Resurrection! You know, because it's like the huge turning point in the story of man because after all our wickedness, deserving of God's wrath, Christ came in fulfilment of the promises of redemption and brought about double imputation in His perfect life and atoning death, both on behalf of His people, and then rose as a sign that now the eschatological new creation has been inaugurated and the new covenant has begun and we have union with Christ and so we've risen with Him spiritually even though we still wait for the full consummation which will occur with our own bodily resurrection on the Last Day and so that means that we—"
This theological explosion had the desired effect, making Aragorn's balk after about half a minute, his face going blank as he tried to process everything that had just been thrown at him (a task which could have taken him several life times, according to scholars). The ranger, of course, was well versed in many academic subjects, but no one can handle rapid fire theology from a student of Estel's school without some sort of break to mull things over.
"Okay, okay," he interrupted, putting his hands up as if in defense. "That's very interesting. Thank you. I hope the traffic starts moving quickly for you."
He backed away and Estel put up the window, thankful that he seemed to have taken her hint, at least on some level. However, her brilliant exposition would no doubt result in her having to spend hours explaining what she had just spouted when she finally did get home. But on second thought, that would actually be an ideal way to spend an afternoon. Theology is quite invigorating, not to mention awesome.
"That was freaky," the driver said aloud as the car inched forward. "Wonder if we should call the cops on him."
Thalion laughed out loud, way too loudly to remain inconspicuous. She quickly recovered and just shrugged her shoulders, unable to erase her grin completely. "Nah; probably just some crazy hobo or something. You know Floridians."
Both girls giggled, and it seemed that the awkward event would finally be ended. But as it turned out, the crew Aragorn had promised was not one to work in stealth or obscurity, as the unfortunate writer soon realized.
The first sign of a fight was simply the noise. To the ignorant bystander, it would have sounded like a sports shouting match from another country. To Estel, the true meaning was obvious: it was clearly the angry yells of a dark lord mixed with the battle cries of several different races in several different languages. The writer couldn't make out the clang of metal, but it seemed likely to her that since there were no explosions, it must be a localized, hand to hand combat. More horns began honking, obscuring the original noises, but Thalion knew the fight was far from over.
Suddenly a gold and green streak was launched into the air, disappearing from view as a bridge loomed ahead. Estel's eyes widened, as did those of her peer, though the girls had different thoughts about the object.
"What in the world?" the driver exclaimed. "Was that a piece of debris?"
The writer gave no answer, but she had a horrible feeling that it might have been the Prince of Mirkwood. However, before she could get really worried about the safety of her muse friend, she saw the same streak jumping down from the bridge, seemingly in an attack maneuver. Well, at least he was alive, though there was no knowing what else was going on in the scuffle.
Other things, too small to be people, began flying in all directions. Those might have actually been pieces of inanimate objects, like chunks of the road or parts of cars. Thalion had no idea what a sane person would think of that sight, but her more developed knowledge didn't make her feel any better.
Her stomach nearly tied itself in a knot when the wail of sirens filled the air. Sure, the cops might be able to stop the fight…but then again, they might also be blasted into oblivion by Sauron. Or they could arrest all participants, including the muses. Even after the event had happened and Thalion got the whole story from her Middle-earth friends, she was never told exactly what prevented them from being questioned by authorities.
Whatever happened when the police arrived, the results were quickly materialized. Four orc-sized objects were quickly tossed onto the bridge, followed quickly by a leaping object which looked remarkably like Sauron. This party quickly scurried away (if Sauron is actually capable of scurrying, that is), and there was no pursuit. Only a moment later, Estel spotted six or seven familiar figures quickly hastening down a side road, going in a different direction than the fiends had taken. One of them was Aragorn, and he looked back to the interstate and waved a hand towards it generally, as if sending the message that his work was done.
Thalion desperately hoped that this was a good sign.
It took another twenty minutes for the cars to begin inching forward again. When at last Estel and her companion passed through ground zero, there was clear evidence of the brawl. A few arrows were sticking out of the concrete shoulder barriers, a handful of vehicles were pulled over with shattered windows and blinking lights, and there were some rather large mars in the pavement that didn't appear to be normal potholes. The writer was very grateful that she wouldn't be asked to explain any of it, and she wondered how the muses would cover it up. Hopefully they would refrain from asking her for ideas.
At long last, after so many awful minutes of waiting, the road ahead cleared, and the pair of students sped towards their destination. Ah, how glorious it was to move quickly again! Thalion kept her eyes peeled for friends and foes alike the rest of the trek, but she was blessed to not see either.
"Whew!" the driver said as they took the appropriate exit. "Glad that's over. I hate traffic!"
"Me, too," agreed Estel genuinely. Then, after a sigh, she added quietly, "I hope that doesn't happen again."
But she knew that if she looked at things logically, her chances of being left alone were pretty slim. Okay, they didn't exist. It was just a matter of time before something else came to wreck her world, whether figuratively or literally. Oh, what a lovely thought to have going into finals.
. . .
I am not a paid spokesman for Ligonier, but seriously, YOU ALL MUST COME TO THE NEXT NATIONAL CONFERENCE. No kidding. I promise if any of you make the trip, I will meet you and sign autographs. ;) If next year's conference is half as good as the last one, it'll be worth 10 times the price and travel. So come!
I don't know when the next chapter will come (I obviously can't predict with the forces of evil will strike next), but since I'm home for the summer, I hope to write up anything that does happen to me. Be on the lookout! Oh, and be sure to leave me some feedback!