PLAIN JANE - CHAPTER SIX
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A story in which stereotypes are laughed at and where our anti-heroine is put through stress and all sorts of odd situations
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Jane slept fitfully. She dreamt of a dark forest, old and uninviting, lit dimly by starlight and a raging river that roared and roared, a waterfall and a lifeless body. When she awoke she was covered in sweat and shaky, but couldn't remember what the dream had about, but an ominous feeling remained; she felt slightly sick. So she got out of bed and had another bath, smothered herself in the sweet lotions and spent a happy two hours doing her toilette. She was so happy to be able to use soap, the sweetest smelling and most amazing soap she had ever seen in her life! Perhaps, she thought, lathering herself happily with the stuff in the bath, she should go give Boromir some soap...the idea of bursting into Boromir's room when he was in the bath was strangely tempting. Shut up, brain! She chastised herself. Boromir naked was a horrible thought.
Then she had a look at her wardrobe, which had been filled with what Jane suspected was the other lady elves' cast-offs, but she wasn't complaining. Soft linens, rich velvets, some other textures she did not recognise but were soft and smooth and smelled wonderful and oh the colours. Red wine, azure, pale green, lightest pink, faded gold, and ivory white. Of course they were in the strangest styles, a strange combination of Grecian and Renaissance flowing free, simple and uncomplicated. Jane felt like a ladyeee. She twirled about in her various dresses, trying them on, for five whole minutes, acting more her shoe size than her actual age.
Practically, however, they were awful. She felt comfortable in them (elves like comfort) and at ease, but she kept tripping over the long hems, or else worrying she would trip over the long hems, and the long sleeves kept flapping about and distracting her. She was not happy with the lack of underwear but did her best not to think about it.
She desperately missed her jeans.
She picked out the dark red wine coloured dress and pulled it on, twirled about and had a look in the looking glass (definitely not a mirror, it was a looking glass). She sat in her room, on her bed for half an hour wondering what to do and trying to dry her long hair with a towel. She felt utterly sick with worry and was trembling slightly.
Jane had not forgotten that Elrond had decided that instead of frolicking around Rivendell for the rest of her time here, she was to accompany the Fellowship. Was she a 10th walker? She wasn't exactly sure that the other males would want her at all; after all, she was a woman, barely a step up from the Hobbits. Get a grip, Jane, you're a twenty-first century independent woman, you are a feminist, not a damsel in distress! Think Lara Croft, or Madonna or even Becky Sharp, rather than a soppy Victorian wimp! Girl Power! I may be clumsy and clueless about how things work here, but I'm smart, I learn easily and I've resisted the One Ring AND spent two whole months with Boromir; I am clearly stronger than I appear. It's not going to be a piece of cake, or even a walk in the park-more like a half suicidal mission where every conceivable villain in Middle Earth hurls itself at us and tries to kill us-
Stop it, she told herself. I need to do something. That will make me feel better.
So she wandered around Rivendell until she found an elf.
"Greetings!" she said. The Elf stopped and looked at her.
"You must be Jane," he said. Jane nodded and looked at him properly; was he someone special? He had long golden hair, a clever noble face, but seemed slightly solemn. Something about the expression of his eyes, however, made her think twice about his solemnity. His face was so perfect that he looked like he had been carved from marble; he didn't appear to have pores at all! How weird!
"Where is Aragorn?" she asked. The Elf looked at her, askance.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired, folding his arms and looking at her patronisingly.
Oh no, thought Jane. I've found the Boromir of the Elves.
"I want to speak with him," she said carefully. The elf regarded her for a full minute.
"Why?" he asked, at length.
"Because..." Jane thought about this, why did she want to speak to Aragorn? Mainly to ask him to teach her the sword (it wasn't "teach her fencing", these swords were big and heavy and dangerous, so it was "teach her the sword", said seriously and with reverence) and ask general things about where they were going, and basically meet the future king and get him on her side and not Boromir's. However, she had no idea how to say all that. "Because!"
The Elf gazed at her. She glared back. What on earth was wrong with this elf? He hadn't so much as batted an eyelash for two minutes. She knew that Elves could go to sleep with their eyes open, but she doubted they could sleep standing up. She waved her hand in front of his face. He remained impassive.
"You know not where is Aragorn," she said, feeling grumpy and like committing an act of violence.
"I do know where Aragorn is," said the Elf, mysteriously and annoyingly. Jane narrowed her eyes. And waited. She crossed her arms and if she had been wearing a wristwatch, she would have tapped it.
"Where...is...Aragorn?" she asked, on the point of losing her temper.
The elf raised his left eyebrow. "He is in a meeting with Elrond."
"When is meeting finished?" asked Jane, acutely aware of her bad Westron.
The Elf gave her the once over and smiled. "Not for many hours, Jane."
Jane's shoulders slumped in defeat. The elf made to walk on. "No! Please, tell me where is Gandalf?" she cried, desperately.
"Why do you ask?" inquired the elf. Jane's nostrils flared and she bit her lip. She struggled to compose herself, she was livid.
"Please," she said, "Please."
The elf relented and replied, "He is in a meeting with Elrond and Aragorn."
A little part of Jane died inside.
"Who is not in the meeting, please?" she asked.
"I believe that Legolas is on the shooting ranges," he said. After a long, long and tiresome conversation about what a shooting range was, complete with lots of hand gestures, Jane turned to go.
"Oh!" she said, "What your name?" The elf smiled and replied;
"Glorfindel, Lady Jane."
Jane hmm'd at him, thanked him and walked away. Her anger at the impossible elf had evaporated her dread of leaving with the fellowship, and the idea of spending months on end with Boromir paled in comparison with the idea of having another conversation with Glorfindel.
She didn't know much about Glorfindel, he had a lovely name, but from meeting him she discerned he had a funny sense of humour. And not "funny "as in"funny ha ha". She vaguely remembered something about him defeating a Balrog a couple of thousands of years ago and coming back from the dead, but things like that weren't so weird and amazing and freaky after what she'd been through. Although the land of Caster Sugar seemed a distant memory now.
At the shooting ranges, a lone archer was practising; this must be him, thought Jane.
Jane stood and watched him in awe. He cut an impressive figure.
Legolas has been portrayed in fan fiction in a variety of different and contradicting ways, mainly in forms that Tolkien had never even subtly hinted at and secondly would never have approved of. There was the highly sexual Legolas, who was sensitive, but strong and sexy and romantic. Jane had never known where this Legolas had appeared from; in the books Legolas had been more interested in trees than the opposite sex and had spent his time with Gimli. Some very odd and possibly mental people had linked him romantically with the dwarf, but Jane had no idea how that would work, physically and otherwise. Their friendship was unusual enough, but a relationship would be icky. Other Legolas incarnations had included hugely spoilt princeling, naive and young wood elf, odd emo loner etc. Jane watched Legolas gracefully shooting arrows that sailed through the air almost weightlessly, wondering which Legolas he would be.
"How long do you plan on observing me, Lady Jane?" he called, rhetorically. Jane jumped; she was almost a hundred metres behind him, how could he possibly have known she was there? He turned around. "I apologise, my lady, for startling you," he said.
Jane, of course, didn't fully understand all the words he was saying, but she understood his tone and followed his meaning, and took it for an invitation to move forward to meet him.
"Greetings, Lord Legolas," she said.
"Just Legolas," he corrected. Jane frowned worriedly; what on earth did that mean? "Just"? She had never heard of it before, oh no, did it mean Prince? After all, he was a prince of Mirkwood and perhaps, as a human mortal civilian she should address him as such. Had she offended him? They seemed very particular about their titles in this place. Her face began to heat up.
"Sorry, Just Legolas," she said, panicked.
Legolas burst into the most joyous, lovely sounding laughter. His whole body shook with his mirth and his previously serious face shone like a beacon. Jane wasn't too impressed, was he mocking her pronunciation? Humiliation burned her.
"No, no, dearest," said Legolas, seeing her frown and reaching out to touch her shoulder. "No Lord, Lady Jane, just means, only, without Lord," he simplified.
"Oh," said Jane. "Ohhhhhh!" she said with meaning, realising her mistake. She covered her face with her mouth and began to giggle. "Just Legolas?!" she repeated, laughing, which only set Legolas off again. For a few minutes they laughed at each other and themselves and leaned on each other, that when they finally stopped, and stood beaming at each other, Jane had completely forgotten what she had come to see Legolas for. "Legolas," she began, "I..." hmm, she thought, how to phrase this? "I like to know the sword, please?"
She frowned, knowing she hadn't quite said that properly, but unsure of how to. She looked beseechingly up at Legolas. "Maybe, please, you teach me?"
Legolas looked amused and taken aback. "My Lady Jane-" he started.
"Just Jane," interrupted Jane with a twinkle.
He smiled back. "Jane, I am very flattered," noticing Jane's raised eyebrows at the unfamiliar word; he changed his tack, "thank you, Jane. But, I am a better archer than a swordsman. Maybe you could ask Aragorn, or Boromir?"
"Boromir is busy," decided Jane, "And Aragorn is important." She looked up at him with her best puppy dog eyed look. "Please?"
"Boromir is not busy," came a voice from behind her, scaring her so severely at its close proximity that she jumped again and turned round.
"Boromir!" she breathed, terrified, her hand over her heart, wondering how to tell him that he had almost given her a heart attack in Westron.
"If you want to learn the sword, Jane, then I shall teach you. Greetings, Legolas, is she bothering you?" asked Boromir, suddenly shifting his gaze very suddenly from Jane to Legolas.
"Not at all, Boromir, Jane and I are great friends already," replied Legolas, smiling down at Jane, who returned the smile. She loved Legolas, he was the best! Boromir was such a bore, asking her new best friend if she was bothering him! She wasn't a naughty four year old! Why did he always act as if she was some sort of delinquent, always bothering other people, or annoying him? Sometimes she felt like such an unwanted burden.
Legolas was elven kind and therefore much more sensitive to the subtle nuances and the immediate change in atmosphere the second Jane became aware of the Gondorian Man's presence. He planned to tease his new friend about Boromir later. Boromir, however, was not so amused by the situation, he was not keen on the effeminate Elf being friends with his Jane, but he had been well trained in courtly ways and quite effectively hid his dislike for their new friendship from Jane, at least.
Walking up to Jane and Legolas and seeing them laughing with each other had caused a twinge in his stomach that he had never felt before, but had recognised as jealously. He had never been jealous of anyone or anything in his life before! There was no rivalry with his brother, or between him and his friends, it was simply not in his nature; he had always been too generous to experience this horrible feeling before. It was unnerving, for the first time in his life, he felt unsure of himself, also a new experience.
"Perhaps Legolas can teach you archery?" asked Boromir.
"I would love to teach you archery, Jane," said Legolas warmly.
"No thank you," said Jane. Legolas and Boromir looked surprised at her dismissal of Legolas' offer. After all, he was the prince of Mirkwood and an excellent archer. She saw their surprised faces and realised she had slightly affronted her new best friend. "Oh no Legolas! I think you are a good teacher and archer, but I know archery," she explained.
She had not even realised it would might be practised here, after all, Boromir didn't carry a bow and once she got to Rivendell she had not planned on doing anything that required exertion, which included all means of warfare. Jane was actually quite good at archery, something she had never thought would be useful or even vaguely fashionable, but due to a childhood obsession with Robin Hood, had learnt when she was about eight. Not being a particularly sporty person, she had taken it up at high school as it involved hardly any movement and got her out of hockey. She had excelled at it and university (mainly because she spent her nights playing darts in the pub and so perfected her aim). However, she was hideously ashamed of her sometime hobby; it was even more embarrassing than admitting that she loved fan fiction and so she had hid it from most of her friends and even her parents. Her childhood obsession with Robin Hood had dissipated, but she continued to practise until she left university, as it was something that came to her quite easily and therefore was quite confident about. Jane had never really taken it seriously though and had never got in the habit of talking about the (only) sport she practised, as she didn't really think archery was something that anyone would relate to over a gin and tonic in the pub. She could tell that Legolas was much better at it than her. If she were more competitive, then this would spur her on to practice and improve, but Jane wasn't; she reasoned that he had much better senses and was much older than her and she was as good as she could be (despite the lack of practice since she graduated university six months ago).
Most heroines (and Mary-Sues) in fan fictions have skills and talents. Some show off and are annoyingly perfect in practically every way. Their over-dramatic displays of their abilities make them endearing to the opposite sex, who are instantly wowed and amazed by their unrealistic talents, instead of despising them as self-obsessed drama-queens who have unsympathetic qualities (which is what would happen in reality). Misery, bitching and sharing horrible experiences are far more conducive to bonding than being stunned by someone's soprano voice. Most of the time, of course, a Mary-Sue's skills and talents are plot devices and are linked to their "destinies".
Jane didn't believe in destiny and therefore didn't have one.
It would, of course, be unfair to deny Jane any talents whatsoever. Jane Thomas is a bright young woman, a university graduate and more importantly, a laugh. She is clumsy, clueless about her surroundings and thoughtless. The simple things in life make her happy, good plentiful food, soap, friends and a nice comfy bed. She can be pretty grumpy, as Boromir has found out, but usually sees the funny side of things. She has hay fever, faint freckles on her nose when its sunny and excellent organisational skills (thanks to her job as a PA). She is slightly paranoid, can't sing to save herself, a keen horsewoman and cook and has a very good talent for languages. However, she is unfailingly modest, very generous and quite kind. She likes tea more than oxygen and would quite like to be a Hobbit because of their eating habits but is glad she isn't because of the hairy feet.
Boromir was very surprised, but Legolas was delighted; a fellow archer!
"Let us see you!" he asked and handed her his beloved bow, which was quite an honour, Jane tried to refuse it, but couldn't without being rude, and then strode over to the target to remove his arrows. Jane looked aggrieved. She hated doing anything which would put her in the way of any sort of critique. She looked over the thing in her hands, smoothing it over.
Even though she was a pretty indifferent archer, she had to agree this was a beautiful bow, obviously well looked after and inscribed with what looked like Anglo-Saxon runes. Jane had never seen any writing since she had been in Middle Earth and she had dearly missed being able to read. She traced the runes with her fingers with a bit of sadness and then reluctantly walked over to where Legolas had been standing and picked up one of his arrows from his quiver; she could tell that he had made the arrow himself; it was so beautiful and simple. First thing first, she thought, and tied her ridiculously long but wonderfully showy sleeves behind her neck. She took up the archery stance, her right leg slightly behind her front and nocked the arrow, glancing over at Legolas and Boromir.
She was suddenly acutely aware that she hadn't so much as thought about archery for over half a year and was now going to performing to the famously accurate prince of Mirkwood and the captain of Gondor. She glanced at the target; it was an awfully long way away; damn Legolas' perfect eyesight! She squinted a bit, trying to see the bull's eye.
"If you like, Jane, we can move the target closer," casually suggested Legolas, smiling kindly at her. Jane blushed in embarrassment. Legolas' attempt at kindness only made her more determined to do well and look less like the fool she felt.
"No thank you, Legolas," she answered, tersely. She lifted her bow, careful to keep her arm locked and her elbow where it should be and narrowed her eyes to aim. Please, please, she prayed, don't let me embarrass myself in front of them.
She breathed in and released the arrow.
Please please please, she thought, ohhhhh!
The arrow whooshed through the air and hit the target with a satisfying thunk. However, Jane's eyesight was not good enough to tell where it had gone, so she looked at the two males to her left hopefully.
Legolas was smiling at her (but then he was always smiling so Jane thought that it was indicative of nothing) and Boromir was looking pensively at the target.
She handed the bow back to Legolas and walked towards the target, painfully conscious of her muscles aching in her right arm; Legolas' bow had been awfully taut and had required all her strength to pull it back. She was shockingly out of practise and although her muscles remembered what to do, they had torn slightly in the act. Although Legolas was a skinny blonde Elf, he was clearly made of steel.
Jane resisted the urge to massage her muscles and instead concentrated on looking at the target.
Her arrow was two inches away from the bull's eye.
"Yes!" she said in English. "Woooo!" and raised her arms in the air in triumph.
Legolas and Boromir had followed her and both smiled at her unconscious and childish display of happiness. Legolas pulled his arrow out from the target and congratulated Jane.
"I will make you a bow," he declared and then strode off into the woods, not looking back once and quickly disappearing out of sight.
Boromir and Jane looked at each other. "Elves are...hmm," she said.
"Yes," agreed Boromir fervently.
Boromir took her to see Gimli. Gimli was more his type of person; consummate warrior, plain speaker, nice big beard. At the council, Boromir had got the impression that Legolas didn't particularly like him, and Boromir had uneasy feelings towards Aragorn, he wasn't too sure if he trusted Mithandir, although Faramir did, and although he was very fond of all the hobbits, they were like children. And so, he had decided that he was going to need some manly company on this quest and who better than the hairy little squat dwarf.
Jane was quickly charmed by Gimli.
"Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service!" he declared cheerfully.
"Jane...not son of..." she answered, shakily. "What is girl son called?" she asked Boromir.
"Daughter," he answered, with a smirk.
"Ah, ok, Jane daughter of John, at your service," replied Jane with a grin. Gimli roared with laughter.
"She's a cracker, Boromir!" he announced, "And you, lassie, are joining us on our quest through Middle Earth?"
Jane understood the gist of what Gimli had asked; "Yes," she said sadly. She could not be too upbeat about trekking across the wilderness and gaining all sorts of blisters, climbing up a mountain and inside a mine and being attacked by uruk-hai and...she shuddered.
"Don't worry, lassie, we'll take good care of you. It'll be a nice change having a girl on a quest with us, though I don't rightly see why Elrond would think it was a good idea for you to accompany us-" at this, Gimli looked up at Boromir's frowning face.
Jane felt some tension between them all; obviously Boromir was not keen on her accompanying them on their trip. Feeling a bit awkward, she decided to lighten the mood.
"Boromir is to teach me the sword," she said with a smile. Gimli perked up immediately.
"Oh, yes? The sword, eh? Well that's a mighty fine instrument-" he said.
"Instrument?" Boromir interrupted, with mock insult. "It's a weapon, dwarf! The noblest weapon of all," he told them.
"I like archery best," said Jane, smiling at the dwarf. "It's the more fast," she justified, when they looked at her with disbelief.
"It's alright...for an elf," muttered Gimli. Boromir grunted in agreement.
Jane had forgotten that Gimli and Legolas were not the best of friends yet and decided to stay neutral; she would not like to get on the wrong side of either the elf or the dwarf.
"What weapon you like, Gimli?" asked Jane. She, of course, knew the answer, but not the name and it was always best to feign ignorance in these areas to gain new vocabulary.
"Dwarves prefer to use axes, lass," Gimli told her, reaching into his belt and taking out his favourite axe and letting Jane have a little look at it. She ooh'd appropriately. Gimli passed it to her and she held it in her hands and was surprised at how heavy it was; despite his small stature, Gimli was obviously rather strong and a damned good warrior. Jane held the strange metal axe in her hands and wondered how many orcs and goblins had met their end at its sharp edge.
Jane had held Legolas' weapon earlier and had only felt admiration for its craftsmanship, it was so light and exquisite that she had not fully realised that it was meant to be used to kill. But Gimli's cruder and heavier weapon sat in her hands with resonance and gravitas; she could imagine Gimli on a battlefield, sweating and bleeding and fighting for his life. She felt her heart sink; that would be her soon.
"Jane?" asked Boromir, worriedly.
"I am OK," she said quickly, handing back the axe.
"OK?" asked Boromir, confused.
"Yes. Oh, uh, I am fine," she reiterated. "It is...axe is for kill," she tried to explain. Gimli looked up at her with kind but worldly eyes.
"Aye, it is, lassie," he said softly. "Have you not seen a weapon before?" he asked.
Jane bit her lip. How was she to explain that there had been no big wars, not big battles that had affected her, in her lifetime? That although her world was full of wars, that her country was at war even now, that she was so desensitised to the idea of war that when actually confronted with a weapon that wasn't in a museum or in a film that she felt shocked and uneasy?
"Yes and no," she said, pensively, "In my land, there are no wars for maybe sixty years," she explained. Gimli and Boromir looked at her with surprise. "It is very far away," she elaborated.
"No wars," repeated Boromir. He could not even conceive of a place that was not continuously fighting against evil; however much he hoped that one day that Gondor would be such a place. He shook these thoughts away. "Well, Jane, if I am to teach you the sword, then you must get some appropriate clothes," he said.
"Huh?" said Jane.
"You cannot learn to fight in a sword in a dress, lassie," pointed out Gimli.
"Oh," said Jane. She had not thought about that, but yes, she would definitely need some sort of trousers or leggings. She sighed, why was she stuck with Boromir teaching her the sword?
"Go find some appropriate clothing and meet me here in an hour," commanded Boromir. Jane frowned at him and said goodbye to Gimli, then walked back up the hill to Elrond's house. She had a bad feeling about this.
Twenty minutes later, she bumped into Glorfindel.
"Did you find Legolas, Jane?" he asked, smiling smugly.
"Yes, thank you," she replied, feeling rather suspicious. "And Gimli and Boromir. He is to teach me the sword," she told him.
Glorfindel raised one absolutely perfect eyebrow. "Gimli is going to teach you the sword?" he asked.
"No," she said, fighting the urge to call him stupid. "Boromir," she corrected him.
"Ah," said Glorfindel, knowingly.
"What?" said Jane grumpily. Glorfindel grinned at her. She sighed. "Can I have your trousers?" she asked.
"What!" asked Glorfindel, genuinely surprised for the first time in millennia.
"Please? I need...appropriate clothing...Boromir say that," she told him. Glorfindel blinked at her.
"You are the most unusual person I have ever met," he told her. "Come with me," he said and led her along a passage she had never been along before, Jane wondering what an "unusual person" was.
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N.B. Ah, my beloved readers. Don't forsake me because of my sporadic postings! And please review and give me your feedback, ideas, suggestions, criticisms, critiques, random thoughts, anything. I hunger for your reviews. It not only makes me very happy, but it makes my writing better. So...what do you think?