Ladies and Gentlemen, the chapter you've all been waiting for… LOL Enjoy!

Chapter Six

Thursday was the day of dissection. Mercifully, old Ms. Winston spared us in biology. No, ironically the dissections occurred primarily in English and History.

Well, I did study Cedric a bit. I was starting to become suspicious of him as well. There were the things I'd seen on his first day: the blond hair, deep blue eyes, his bone structure and physical frame. His response to my greeting, mae govannen. Even his last name—Greene. As in leaf, perhaps?

As we had gotten closer, I noticed his intense loyalty. Cedric's body language constantly screamed, "Protect!" Whenever someone jock-bellowed or made any sort of remark about me in his presence, Cedric would snap his head around, perfect blond hair flying, and fix his eyes on the tragically fated twerp. Powerful blue eyes are unnerving enough by themselves, without the furrowed collision of brows and flying sparks of anger radiating from those pacific depths.

Classic male beauty—check. Hair—check, though worn in a ponytail instead of intricate Elvish braids. Friendship—check. Steadfast loyalty—check. Eyes—check. Warrior fierceness—check. Heck, even the leather tooling on his book bag looked like it could be Elvish. And let's not forget about the way he pulled his hair over the very tips of his ears, just like Edwards did. Like there was something to be concealed.

In English class—Mr. Garrison. I was familiar with the beard, his family nose, the sonic boom with which he spoke. But until now, I had never noticed the true quality of his voice. Garrison seemed to speak with incredible depth of wisdom, even for a patriarch of the English & Language Communications Department with the over thirty-five years of experience he claimed to boast. And though he sported fine combinations of the classic shirt and tie, his collar was done a little oddly in back… perfect for hiding a wizard's long hair, perhaps?

Beard—check. Eyebrows—check. Dark wizard eyes—check. Wizard voice—check. Wisdom and authority—check. Ageless power—check. Sense of humor—check. Then there was the small framed painting he kept on his desk, a majestic silver stallion at liberty on a mountainside of stark black rock. Upon even closer inspection, which was accomplished only through great subtlety and care on my part, I noticed an eagle motif on the frame.

My English teacher even had Shadowfax and Gwaihir the Wind-Lord on his desk.

Then in History class, I watched Edwards's every move. His facial expressions would be so much more believable if I hadn't just found out about the Botox. Even so, Edwards was the sort of teacher a guy like me could look up to. He was even taller than I was—and I'd come off at six-one and three-quarters during our gym class height testing—and quite a snappy dresser. While most of his colleagues spent their days in a shirt and tie or khakis and a polo, Edwards preferred a three-piece suit with a vest. Black and white, with the tie as a shot of color. Very sharp, very Draco Malfoy. And Edwards had the frame for it, too, tight and well-muscled like a hopeful Derby favorite.

Then there was the hair. Glossy, raven-dark, so straight it should have been a wig from The Fellowship's makeup trailer. And pulled into a neat ponytail, barely covering the tips of his ears.

The tips of his ears. Like Cedric's.

When the bell rang, I followed the other class stragglers out of the door. What stopped me, however, was Edwards's voice. "Edrian. Are you in any hurry today?"

I turned back slowly. "No, sir."

He gestured to one of the front-row seats. Edwards had quite a cool way of moving like some ancient emperor, almost unnervingly collected and regal for a teacher. "Would you do the honor of keeping me company?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Then sit down, please."

I did as he asked. Had Edwards begun to suspect that I was on to him?

He settled himself behind his desk, right across from me, fixing blue eyes on me. Blue eyes—check. "My sword, Edrian. How have you been feeling?"

"Like an outcast." I laughed darkly.

Edwards's brows furrowed as best as they could. "You should be proud, Edrian." His hard gaze softened. "Have others been mocking you?"

"Nothing I'm unused to." Eager for a partial—and daring—subject change, I took a chance and mentioned her, she who was above all others. "I was impressed that Alix Evanston gave it a try."

"Yes, she was courageous to do so." Edwards fiddled with a slender stack of papers on his desk. "She comes from a good family, wonderful people. Alix's grandfather was a close friend of mine."

Someone knocked importantly on the door and dared to interrupt us.

"Come in."

Mr. Garrison eased himself into the room. "Edrian," he said, but he did not sound surprised in the least.

Crap. I had agreed to tutor someone today after school, and I'd completely forgotten. I'd blown it. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm really sorry. Mr. Edward wanted to talk to me about something, and I completely forgot that—"

"No apologies, my boy, I understand completely. In fact, it's utterly unimportant." Garrison pulled up a chair beside Edwards's desk.

His struggling student sat down on the edge of a nearby desk. Cedric Greene. We quickly shook hands as per tradition, feeling the weighted scrutiny of the two teachers.

Edwards and Garrison exchanged a look. "Edrian," Garrison began, "you do know that we are your neighbors."

I nodded. Crap.

Edwards offered a slight, wry smile. "You may have caught some bits of odd conversation last night."

I cold tell he was watching me as my face darkened. "I didn't mean to hear anything. I'm sorry," I whispered. "I tried to forget it all while I slept. But it's kind of hard to forget hearing a teacher talk about getting Botox in his eyebrows."

Beside me, Cedric stifled a snicker.

There was a long moment of silence. Finally Edwards assured me, "Your mind is not as you think, Edrian. In fact, you are quite correct."

I laughed. "Yeah, sure, welcome to Paradox City. My mind is not as I think it is, and yet I'm quite correct. Am I losing my mind or am I losing my mind?"

"You are not losing your mind, my friend." Cedric spoke up quietly.

Edwards laid his massive palms on the desk. "There is a reason why you were able to hold my sword, Edrian."

"Because I'm the only nice guy who tried, and everyone else is a jerk?" I guessed.

Cedric's eyes glinted. "Exactly." He high-fived me, a gesture seemingly out of place for him.

Garrison chuckled, but Edwards acknowledged my point with nothing more than an ill-suppressed twitch of his lips. "Edrian." He turned and retrieved the sword from his closet, offering the hilt to me. "You've seen this sword before."

"Yeah, in your class the other day." Edwards's eyes were deadly serious this time, so I rushed onward. "I-I've seen the sword just like this, but…" I barely managed a whisper as I continued. "That was in the movies."

"Take it, Edrian," Garrison encouraged me.

I settled my palm on the hilt and drew blade.

"You only held it for a moment then, Edrian. This time, keep it in your hand. Give it time. What do you feel?"

The sword in my hand looked almost exactly like Anduríl. I studied it, feeling nothing at first. Then it started to… vibrate somehow. Glow, even. My hand began to tingle all the way up into my arm, like I'd just spent an hour rubbing someone's back through her t-shirt. Hey, as long as that someone was Alix Evanston, I didn't mind.

"The sword knows you," Garrison murmured. "Good."

"It looks exactly like Anduríl," I breathed.

"Peter Jackson's design team did a remarkable job of re-constructing the Sword from Professor Tolkien's work," Edwards explained.

Oh my God. No. Freaking. Way. My grip tightened on the hilt. Things were quickly tilting upside down all over again. "Look," I said, completely confused as to whether I should laugh hysterically or cry or start swearing. "Don't try and throw that kind of crap at me while I'm holding a sword, okay?"

"Edrian." Edwards slid the scabbard over the blade once more. "I understand that this is difficult for you to imagine, but you are only throwing things at yourself. We are exactly who you think we are." Slowly, he pulled out the elastic band and shook his hair loose. It was much longer than I thought it was, settling like manly silk over his rippling shoulders.

Garrison and Cedric did the same. That explained Garrison's funky shirt collar—he'd stuffed his wizard hair down the back. And Cedric's flaxen mane… er, Legolas's flaxen mane…

No, no, I most certainly was not insane. I had been exactly right the whole damn time.

I stumbled backwards into a chair. "No way," I whispered. "This is freaking impossible. But—but then… who does that make me?"

"Edrian, you are the descendent of one of the greatest men who ever lived." Legolas gently laid his hand on my shoulder. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

*Muahahaha* Yep, I love you guys so much that I couldn't resist having a bit of torture—er, fun— and leaving y'all hanging there LOL. More soon! Love, Crirawen