It's going to get really good, really, soon! I promise! *Elvish Minstrels Strike Up "The Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme): Daa-daa-daa-daa da daa-da da daa…* Here it goes…
Chapter Eight
Gandalf had been right. Damn, it was cold. Maybe if the Weather Channel ditched their Doppler Radar and hired a wizard instead, the forecast might actually be right for once.
I hugged my coat tighter around me, more out of nerves than anything else. Okay, so I felt a little suspicious with the hood of my sweatshirt up over a hat, layered under my coat with a sword hanging next to jeans and Lord knew how many inches of Under Armour. And knockoff-Armani gloves. And a scarf. Everybody else may have been shivering and swearing and jumping up and down to keep warm, but at least they looked like normal high school students.
Legolas hovered by my left shoulder, giving me an acute flashback to Aragorn waiting atop the Hornburg Gate before the Battle of Helm's Deep. "All is quiet on the other side," he reported.
The Other Side was New Hampton's half of the stadium, and therefore enemy territory. Our real foes—not the Warlocks football team, but whatever remains of Sauron I was fated to battle tonight—were over there somewhere, keeping hidden even from keen Elvish eyes in the innocently pumped-up crowd.
"They will get restless at halftime, Adhémar," he continued. "New Hampton's homecoming is next week. We will be crowning our Queen, but they have nothing to do but wait. They will see a key opportunity, and I doubt they will let it pass."
"Halftime," I murmured. "Of course. Linden's Homecoming Queen is always crowned at halftime. What better moment to attack then when five defenseless, gorgeous girls are out on the field, practically begging for physical mutilation and the domination of evil will?"
Legolas nodded. "I will keep watch, Adhémar." After a moment, he turned to me again and called my by my old name. "Edrian?"
"Hmmm?"
"Could you explain the point of American football? I am not familiar with the pastime."
So I took him through the basics and the finer points, guiding him through each play, although I couldn't quite remember if it was three downs allotted or four. I was more of a hockey man myself. Legolas just nodded in understanding as Linden's second down ended in something greatly heroic out on the field.
The whole Elvish-resistance-to-the-elements thing must have been true, because he was managing just fine with the little half-zipper on his sweater done only up to his neck. He had ditched the British exchange student alias for tonight, not even grabbing a hat or coat just to look normal. But no one noticed the mere loden-green mock neck or the flaxen hair blowing freely around in the frigid wind and the pointed ears it revealed. They were too focused on the game to suspect that an Elf was among them.
After a few more moments, he melted back into the edge of the crowd beside me. Legolas's eyes were dark and deep and distant under the white stadium lights, intent on any foul movements on the other side, but my friend was still there. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
"Hey, Edrian," someone's voice said after another minute.
I turned and nearly peed myself in shock. There beside me, barely tall enough to rub her forehead against my chin, stood Alix Evanston.
Alix Evanston.
She'd said hi to me. Alix Evanston spoke to me. Alix Evanston was standing right next to me.
And God, did she look like a snow angel. Most angels don't go around in turquoise pea coats over navy-blue sweatshirts and white knit hats that magnify, amplify their indescribable blue eyes, but this one did. The dark October night-wind slashed at her face, whipping her hair around, but oh, my God, she was so beautiful. Not even with frosty snowflakes in her eyelashes could she have looked any more beautiful, or draped in the green-and-silver banner befitting Linden High School's…
…Homecoming Queen?
"Hey, what's up?" I offered with a warm—I hoped—grin. "Say, I heard you made it to Homecoming Court. What brings you up here?"
"The view," she murmured. "And yes, I'm on the court, but I don't think I won. In fact, I highly doubt it."
Now that about stopped the entire freaking universe where it stood. Alix Evanston? Not win Homecoming Queen? But—but—I was Aragorn's descendent! I was the son of the King! I WAS the King! She was going to be my Queen Undómiel! And she was one of only two juniors on the Court! How on earth could Alix Evanston NOT win Homecoming Queen?!?!?
"Hey, you've still got a chance," I assured her. "Either you will or you won't. Fifty percent is pretty good odds, right?"
Alix Evanston laughed. It sounded natural. Oh, thank God she laughed. "I wish. Look at the others." She pointed to the cluster of well-dressed girls huddling around a portable space heater by the water—er, ice bench. "Mackenzie Jackson: varsity cheer captain, last year's field hockey MVP, and president of Senior Club. Vivian Spencer: FBLA, Regional Band finalist, student journalist, and fashion intern at the Chloe boutique in the city. Sarah-Marie Natanelli: soccer goddess, AP Literature goddess, high school humanitarian, Mrs.-Last-Year's-Senior-Top-Quarterback-whatever-his-name-is, and both her parents are lawyers. Need I say any more?"
Her lack of confidence was like a knife right through the American Eagle logo on the chest of my sweatshirt. She didn't know herself. She didn't even understand. Alix Evanston was… Alix Evanston. She was so much more than a pretty, preppy golden-girl queen bee role model. She was unique. She was gorgeous even when she cried, which was tons more than most girls could claim. She could pull Anduríl a good six inches out of its scabbard. She was my Arwen, for crying out loud!
But I couldn't just tell her all of that.
Elrond's confession from yesterday came back into my head. He said he could literally watch Alix Evanston watch me. Checking me out. Alix Evanston. Watching me. Looking at me. Staring. At. Me.
Girls were pretty crazy about this sort of thing, so it was probably safe to say that she liked me.
"Oh, Alix," I breathed. I'm going to stay calm. I'm going to be gentle. I'm not going to crush her with overwhelming passion. I'm going to stay calm. I reached out, touched her hair—God, it was so soft—and I hugged her. I let my arms wrap around Alix Evanston and pull her close to me while I whispered in her ear, just like I'd always dreamed of doing. "You are so much more of a queen than they are, believe me."
Then I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. I let Alix Evanston go.
Alix Evanston's rosy cheeks blushed, and she glanced out to the field. "We'll see, won't we?" she murmured. She looked back up at me. "You know, Edrian, there's something I've never told anyone."
"What is it? You can tell me." Please say you love me. Confess your feelings, melissë, you are safe. Please say you love me—
"It's my middle name," she said. "Whenever people would talk about their middle names, I just kept quiet like I didn't have one."
I touched her shoulder and thumbed a strand of straight dark hair. "What is your middle name?"
"Ambra. Alix Ambra Evanston."
Ambra. Like amber, but different. Beautiful. Ethereal. Like its owner. Almost… queenly.
Queen. Homecoming queen.
Crap. It was the beginning of halftime. The other queenly hopefuls were assembling on the grass, waiting for the winner to be crowned. This was her chance. But she was going to miss it.
"Go on, Alix." I gave her the thumbs-up.
She smiled. "It's cool, Edrian, really. I don't care. Honestly, don't worry about it."
As if timed by some movie director just to add tension, Legolas swooped to my side. "Adhémar!" he Elf-barked. "Edrian! They are stirring. Can you see them?"
Shoot. The battle for Linden High School, if not the whole Modern World, was about to begin, and here I was still trying to convince Alix Ambra Evenstar—er, Evanston—that she still had a chance at winning Homecoming Queen. I trained my gaze on The Other Side. There was some unusual jostling in the bleachers, but hey, this was a football game. "No. What do they look like? Where are they?"
"Moving down toward the lower levels," he replied tersely. "Clad in black. Long coats. Hoods. You cannot see their faces."
Something in my blood kicked in, and I caught a glimpse, if only for a moment. Yes, black gloves and black hooded coats, long and sweeping so that most of their lower form was concealed, like Halloween costume attempts at Harry Potter Death Eaters. Most certainly they were armed. And there were Nine of them. Nine. The Nine, no doubt.
"Edrian, what is he talking about?" Alix Evanston demanded of me, her voice quivering. "What is Cedric talking about?"
"Nothing. Alix, go!" I hissed. I hissed at Alix Ambra Evanston. It panged wildly in my heart, but I had to.
Legolas was preparing to leap through the crowd, long white knives in hand, but he turned back and started at me with blue eyes like near-panicked saucers.
I grabbed Alix Evanston's hand, tucked it under my arm, and followed him.
To be continued next time… muahahahahahaha! Yeah, y'all probably hate me for leaving you with another cliff-hanger. Oh well! Love to all, Crirawen