"You just can't be quiet, can you?" Fe looked a bit annoyed. We'd been in the tent for only a few moments before she started in on me.
"What are you on about?"
"All your yapping! You are like your dogs."
"Woof." I glared. "And my dogs don't yap! They bark, thank you very much. They just bark a lot. And rather shrilly." I stopped talking, finding the taste of my foot to be unpleasant. "What was up with that dude with the big hat, anyway?"
"Isildur?"
"Yeah, that guy. Mr. 'I-Don'-Wanna-Destroy-The-Ring'. He had one major pickle up his arse."
"I'd imagine being in a huge war for the freedom of a world and having your own land destroyed by betrayal and deceit would do that to you," Fe remarked dryly.
I gave this some thought. "Yeah, you're probably right. But still...someone definitely needs to get laid."
"Rhiannon!" She seemed shocked, although she's known me long enough that she really shouldn't be, when I pull sentiments like that out of a hat.
"What?" I did my best to look innocent.
She was more than likely going to say more, but the tent flap moved aside, and sunlight blinded us for a moment. At least, I think it was the sunlight…
It was the first time I saw them. Elrond, herald of Gil-galad, and at his side was Glorfindel. Glorfy's name was damned odd, but – damn! – he was beautiful. I think both Fe and my chins dropped to our chests.
And their chins dropped too. I'd forgotten which shirt I was wearing. The words upon it were probably something they'd never seen before, and probably couldn't due to unfortunate placement, but... Honestly, though, I'd like to think their chins dropped because we – and I especially – were gorgeous, but I've seen Elvish women. Nothing can compare to the beauty of Elvish women. Absolutely nothing. Technically we are Elvish women now, but apparently we still look as we did when we were human. Maybe they get more beautiful with age? If that was the case, then Glorfy must be ancient, and Fe and I had a long way to catch up.
In truth, I think it was that Glorfy and Elrond – dear boys that they are – had never seen a woman with her breasts as obvious as mine were while still being clothed. I felt my hackles rise.
Look – I'm not going to get into an argument about what figures of speech I use! I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, an area that is generally referred to as the 'hackles'. So what if it's got the wrong connotations for the moment? I don't care.
Anyway, Glorfy and Elrond exchanged a few brief sentences in what could only be Elvish. And I wanted to melt. A quick glance at Fe told me that she wanted the same.
"Hot damn". We said it together. The two Elves turned to us. I pondered for a moment not being cheeky – hell, what if this wasn't all one big joke? – but fun won out and I was determined to have some. Life is something you only appreciate when you're dead; I've said it for years, but it's so true. Fe must have recognized the glint because her eyes took on the look they always get when I'm about to do something entirely stupid.
I put my hands on my hips. The words of my shirt undoubtedly took on a new shape, and they eyes of the Elves tracked them. I grinned. This was going to be fun. A lot better than sitting around and snapping at each other, certainly.
I stepped forward and circled the two Elves, giving them both appraising glances. The old, 'once over'. I liked what I saw, I must admit. Damn tall, damn hot – both of them – and those pointy ears that have always gotten females to go totally nuts over anyone with them, including Leonard Nimoy. And…something else too...I paused behind Glorfindel and then peered around him to give Fe a wink. She was trying not to laugh.
Have you ever seen an Elf jump? No? Well, they get about four feet in height, and generally come down shocked, and somewhat angry.
"Fe," I said, totally ignoring the glare I was getting from the Elves, "I think I'm in love. You should feel the muscle of that ass!" I just had. It was why Glorfy had jumped.
"I think I'll pass," she said and then burst into giggles.
"Oh come on!" I insisted. "It's quite lovely."
Elrond looked stern. Spoilsport. "The High-king Gil-galad wishes to speak with you."
"Good for him." Fe once pointed out that I'm very much like my Jack Russell Terriers, i.e.: spunky. I've often wondered if this was a good thing. I smiled sweetly at the sullen bastard. Alas, no dice. Not a muscle twitched on his glaring face.
Gradually, I guess the smile slipped, and all that was left was a staring contest between newly made Elf woman and damn-old-but-still-hot-half-Elf-herald-guy. Fiona said later that it was a 'defiant stare'. I'd tend more towards 'annoyed'. I was having a staring contest with Uncle Gilly's – I'll explain that bit later – herald, yes, but I don't know about being 'defiant'. But jeeze…something about this guy's sullen stern-osity drove me around the bend. So what if this was a war? So what if some king dude wanted to speak to us? I didn't give two shits in a rain-barrel; some people around here still have to have fun. Besides; Elf-boy here hadn't just had his life cut short by some dumbassed, hit-and-run truck driver in a back-roads suburb from hell!
"The king is not to be disobeyed." Go Elrond; you win the 'flat, emotionless comment of the month' award. Although there was a sort of 'dangerous' tone to it… Did I mention that the dude was about seven feet tall? What is it with all the tall people around here? Is no one short?
So his 'almighty haughtiness' was attempting to intimidate me with his Elvish hotness and height. And glare. It was working, but I wasn't about to let him know that. Jack Russell indeed! A close ancestor to one of my own dogs was once found dead with its jaws locked around the neck of a dead jaguar in a South African jungle. Poor kitty. Poor dog too, but…there is one fundamental difference between my dogs and I. I don't – usually – go looking for a fight, and there are times – though rare – that I know when to back down. I just don't like it. I'm stubborn as hell. My dad never let me forget that.
"Who said he was our king? We just got here."
"Rhiannon," Fe said warningly. She's always been the more practical when it comes to authority. I'm not usually this rebellious, but, as I said, Elrond was seriously pissing me off. "Don't you think we should at least play a long with this one?"
"Oh probably," I replied, still staring at Elrond. "But at the moment I'm having too much fun." I tried grinning again; didn't work, but I wasn't really expecting it to.
This probably would have continued for forever if Isildur hadn't shown up and interrupted. Bastard. But Elrond looked away first. I swear it. Fe will testify to that fact. I felt rather smug about that. I out-stared the Herald of Gil-galad! Go me! Fe was rolling her eyes, but I just smiled.
How come everyone here can speak this spine-tingly language? It's unfair. Galadriel's Lament – you know, the one at the end of Farewell to Lothlórien, in FOTR – had me in tears of frustration from trying to pronounce it, and the language just flows from the lips of these guys, one of them even being the bumbling Chief Hermes look-alike. It's just too unfair!
Their conversation continued for some time. And they were pointedly ignoring us – all three of 'em! – so I turned to my twin and spoke softly.
"Hey Fe. Want to get out of here?"
She looked apprehensively up at the Three Musketeers and then grinned. "Sure!"
So we grabbed the backpacks – I still can't believe they let us keep those; talk about the old 'one inept guard' ploy! – and slipped silently out the front flap, right past the sentry, who was fulfilling that 'one inept guard' slot by pissing in the bushes, no doubt believing that his Prince and two Elves could handle the new prisoners. Hah! So we slipped right by him…
…And then took off at a dead run in the general direction of 'elsewhere'. Until, of course, we spotted the horses and changed direction to that way, hoping to all things sacred that any of the other soldiers about might think that two strangely dressed females with odd packs on their backs and strange hats on their heads high tailing it towards the horse pens was an every day occurrence and not to be thought much of.
Most people don't notice strange happenings, usually because they're not expecting them. I read about this one experiment where Anton Le Vay had behind a glass wall in his kitchen a lion, and then invited a bunch of people over. All but one was told of it, and so knew what to expect, but the last did not. He was in the kitchen for a good long while before he realized that there was a lion there. Even stood facing in its general direction, while other people around him were talking about it. And when he finally did notice it, he went nutzoid, yelling about how there was a lion, when everyone else was trying to convince him that it'd been there all along. Just goes to show you how perceptive humans really aren't. And the pair of us beating arse through the camp, dressed as we were and all, should have been noticed, but weren't due to this same principal.
It must be pointed out that while Fe's a great sprinter, what with those long legs and all, I am a damn sight better at long distance running. I mean, big things come in short packages; stamina happens to be one of those things. And – shut up! – don't let Fe try to tell you different.
Either way, she gained ground because of her height, where I caught up and passed because of stamina. And we still somehow managed to slow to a halt and arrive walking briskly at the pens, so as not to be suspicious, at exactly the same time. She tried to say that she stopped earlier, but just ignore that. She's lying. And I did pass her. And not just because she slowed down either. I really did. Legs can take you so far, but when you run out of energy…short and spunky win the race.
As if we wouldn't be suspicious though. Take in our appearance, would you, and try to guess what might be suspicious about us, given our surroundings. But I've already explained my theories on that, so…whatever.
I glanced at Fe and noted that she apparently had a plan. Or, at least, a determined look that she always gets when she's got a plan. I hoped it was a plan, anyway, because I was just waiting for Glorfy and that piss-sodden Elrond to come along and ruin the fun.
"Ho!" she cried as we reached the gates. I turned and gave her the 'one-raised-eyebrow', but she only grinned, and I kept my silence.
A spotty youth appeared. Kid looked like he'd just grown out of public school; no doubt they considered him to be 'a man'. Bah; I refuse to have any part in such stupid rituals. Children don't belong at war. And the definition of 'children' can apply to almost anyone, so don't nit pick. This kid's voice was still breaking.
"The Lords Elrond and Glorfindel wish us to fetch them their horses." So that was her plan! Brilliant! The horses of the Elves themselves – pardon the rhyme – how wonderfully perfect!
The kid took one look at us and then hurried over to the two most beautiful animals I have ever seen. I wanted to weep. I've always had a weakness for horses, and those of the Elven breeds are very much at the better end of the breeding spectrum. And the icing on the cake; they were already saddled and bridled.
The kid, who Fiona managed to find out was named Tom, handed me the reigns of the white one; I let Fe go for the blood bay. The white one had to be Glorfy's. No other horse would suit, and the bay seemed more than a little surly, and I immediately pegged it as Elrond's.
After we took the precious time to thank a blushing and still spotty Tom – Fe throwing in a particular type of body language that I'd never expected to see from her – we moved away from the pens, deceptively in the direction that we'd just came from, just as across the camp shouts were sounding and the shining head of Glorfindel caught the sunlight. We led the horses around a tent, where we proceeded to mount them.
"Ho?"
"It worked, didn't it?" Fe can be mighty defensive.
"Ho?"
"Shut up!"
I shook my head. "You're a nut." She gave me an evil look.
We managed to turn the horses in a direction opposite of that from which the shouts were coming. But the horses weren't moving.
"Hey," I said after a moment where we tried clucking, nudging flanks with heels and flicking the reigns. "What was it that Glorfy said to his horse when the Ringwraiths were after him? Noro lim, Asfa – SHIT!"
The last was uttered as the beautiful white animal upon which I was mounted bunched its wonderfully well-sculpted muscles and sprang into the fastest gallop I have ever been a passenger for. After a moment, the blood bay with Fiona on its back caught up.
Wait a minute…damn it…didn't I tell you about the whole thing with the backpacks and everything? Fe's pineapple? Oops. Oh well, I'll explain that later, as I'm getting to some good bits, and…
All right, all right! Keep you pants on, please! When we got here, we realized that our bags of chocolate were now backpacks, and that they had stuff in that we hadn't had before, and that we had pointy ears. I don't get it. If I was an Elf now, I should be taller than Fe – no poetic justice for me – and at least six times better looking than I am currently. Good enough explanation for now? It'll have to do. Can I get back to the story? I said I was sorry – leaving out a chunk of plot that large is worth a spanking. And I know just who to deliv – oh no! We're getting back on track right now.
I shan't try to really put words to what it was like riding the steed of Glorfindel. Rather like riding Glorfindel himse – I am not going to finish that sentence! Don't even think about asking! You're just trying to slip me up, aren't you, Mr. Shadow Man? Hah…that's what I thought…
Anyway, scenery whipped by and very soon the camp and everyone in it, including the horsemen sent to catch us, were left far, far behind.
After a bloody long while, we stopped, but mostly for the horses' benefit. Although, my ass was pretty damned sore. Despite the fact that the gallop neared a flight like quality, even to the point of feeling like a fast moving cloud rather than a fast moving animal. I hadn't spent a great deal of time in the saddle at that point. Hardly any time, actually, in many, many years. More like diddlysquat.
So the pair of us dismounted in the deepening twilight and stretched. Fe was rather surprised to note that I did know how to get down, and that it didn't involve letting gravity do all the work. I'd had to mount from a convenient crate, and she'd sniggered at me. Not my fault the wonderful creature was over sixteen hands high at the withers.
Fe made some remark about me needing a pony, so I told her to stuff it, and that I wasn't going to give up Asfaloth unless Glorfy pried me off the animal's back with a crowbar and locked me up. I've always wanted a horse, especially one this beautiful. And this white.
"You don't even know if its name is Asfaloth." You had to admit; she had a point.
A quick check and I had the right pronoun. "He did react to 'Asfaloth' when I told him to run…"
"You didn't even get the full word out."
"Good point. What would you name him then? Your horse could be named 'Arse Pickle'".
"I refuse to name an animal 'Arse Pickle', even if you think Elrond's got one!"
"It was just a thought." I tried to think of suitable Elvish names for such a beautiful animal, but my lack of understanding of the language had me in a bit of a fix. Giving up on that, I tried to think of simple English names that would work for such a magnificent creature. There simply weren't any other than 'Sweet Jebebus!' and I sure as hell wasn't going to name a horse 'Sweet Jebebus', although I've heard worse. "What does 'Asfaloth' mean, anyway?"
"Something about flowers."
"Oh." I remained thoughtful. The horse did carry the air of meadows and flowers and places in Middle-earth that I knew to exist and would rather be in, and longed for with all my heart. Mountain vales and stream banks, and…I could go on dreaming about it, but I fear that you'd never get to hear the rest of it, and I would only be left with the vain wish of seeing those places someday. Stars were coming out, and the moon was rising. It was more than beautiful, and the horses were glowing.
"Well boy," I said, turning to the horse after failing to come up with the right name in either Elvish or English. "Looks like you're stuck with 'Sweet Jebebus' for now." Sweet Jebebus snickered, as if to tell me to think of something better. "I tried, boy; I really did."
"Why not just call him 'Asfaloth'?"
"Works for now," I agreed. So did Asfaloth, né Sweet Jebebus.
We fed them with grain from the saddlebags, and rubbed them down – vague rememberings of horse camp reminded me we had to do this – and then proceeded to explore the contents of the saddlebags, despite Fe's worries that we were invading privacy.
"I'm quite sure," I said matter-of-factly, "that both Elrond and Glorfy would search our bags if given half a chance. Though, they had a chance while they were talking to us."
"Not really," Fe said. "Because I seem to remember a certain young lady acting all…" she trailed off, and I could feel my face start to go a rather alarming shade of red.
"All what? Go a head and say it."
"Say what?"
"That I was acting all slutty!"
"I wasn't going to say that!"
"I bet you were!" It's really damned easy to get Fe riled up. Really all you have to do is refer to Gil-galad as 'Uncle Gilly'. You only get to do this once before you die, though, so use the chance wisely. This is precisely why, of course, I keep doing it, but that's a thought for later.
"I was not!"
"Were too!"
"I never would!"
"What were you going to say then?"
Fiona, writer of many a secret, sordid, smutty romance, paused for a moment before deciding on the right word for my apparent behavior. "Hormonal."
"Hormonal?" One big hormone waiting to happen. I'd heard the description used by my mother about a former coworker who would throw herself at anything male that moved in her near vicinity. I took particular offence to that, as I usually make sure the man is at least good looking – unlike my coworker – and not a slimy customer at a gas station.
"Quite."
"You did look at Glorfy, didn't you?" I wasn't sure if she'd seen him. He was as good an explanation for my behavior as any.
"Yes, and he is hot –"
"Damn hot – "
"- damn hot, whatever. But we have to behave for at least one of the species here, especially if it's the one we now belong to."
"Don't see why." I know I was being childish, and muttering sullenly, but really. One needs to have fun when one snuffs it early, and Fe, right now, seemed to be spoiling that.
Fiona sighed theatrically. "Because," she said as though explaining it to a small child, "we don't want to make enemies."
I glared at the ground. I suppose this is one of those times when I should back down and not be so farking stubborn. I did, but it took effort.
After a bit, I picked up a few bits of wood and laid them about in a spot that we'd torn up as use for a fire pit. After messing about with what was apparently a tinderbox, we had a small fire going, but nothing really to cook on it except Fe's pineapple, and we tried to save that. There were some small cakes in the saddle bags, but it was some time before either of us could bring ourselves to eat them, feeling more than a little like stealing. But, wow…after a few bites they filled us up completely, and we felt renewed vigor.
"So…" I said after a bit. "What's up with Isildur?"
"I'd have to say that this is definitely before he keeps the Ring," Fe supplied.
"Yeah…which would mean that this is that Battle or whatever."
"The Battle of the Last Alliance."
"That one," I agreed. There followed a reflective silence.
"You know what this means, right?" Fe asked after a bit.
"That we got reincarnated at just the wrong time?" At least we got to keep our old bodies. And it was reincarnation, after a sort. We did die, we did go through the tunnel…and we are currently alive, if philosophers are to be damned and ignored…whatever. It's as good a word as any to describe our current predicament.
"We may have been sent here to fight." She seemed none too pleased with that thought.
I stared at her. "You've been reading too many prophecy stories again. You know full well that no 'honorable man' in their right mind would dare let a female – let alone two – near a battle field, especially ones so obviously untrained."
"We wouldn't have the problem of the obvious femininity if you had just bound your breasts!"
I stuck my tongue out, which was perhaps the most childish thing I'd done yet. That's debatable, however. "I wasn't about to put dead people's clothes on! Who knows where they've been? They could have had fleas and all sorts of nasty skin conditions, and I wasn't about to subject the Twins to such a devastating situation." I crossed my arms protectively over my chest.
"And then you just had to go throw yourself at Glorfindel."
"Pardon me for spotting someone damned hot."
"The Elves are supposed to be beautiful and remote, not sex objects." She was blushing though, which led me to believe that she didn't really believe in her words as much as she wanted to. If only we'd stuck around to see that LOTR movie that was coming out...I might have had a chance at dissuading her, as, from the look of it, the guy they'd gotten for Legolas was really hot.
"Who says? You're just caught up in the wistful beauty of them. No one ever said they weren't sexual animals. How the hell would they breed otherwise?"
"But that's what makes them better than us!"
"Whatever then," I replied, refusing to argue any more. Despite evidence to the contrary, I don't like confrontations. Chalk it up to my Canadian heritage.
"What should we do about the Alliance then?" Fe asked after a bit.
"I dunno," I replied. "Join it?"
"Join it." She repeated my statement with a flatness that told me that she really was quite scared at the thought of throwing herself into battle. Can't say that I blamed her. Wasn't too pleased with the prospect myself.
"Yeah," I continued. "You know. Throw ourselves into glory and honor, slay a thousand Orcs apiece and come out alive and with our sense of mortality still intact."
"Now you're the one who's been reading too many stories again. You know full well that's not how it really goes."
"I know. But think of it; since this is all one big joke, we'd still live, and likely end up with the Elves in the end. It's how stories work."
"Or we could be captured by the Orcs and end up in some dark and dismal torture chamber."
"We could. Or we could kill a thousand of those farking bunyips and win ourselves some hot Elves."
"Are hot Elves all you think about?"
"You did see Glorfy, right?"
She sighed. "For the hundredth time, yes, I saw Glorfindel."
"Then there's the answer to your question." I grinned at her.
Of course, the momentary silence that followed proved to be to our saving advantage. Because those bunyips came back, and this time they didn't ignore us.
Among the various little treasures held in the saddle bags of the two Elves were two long handled and equally long bladed knives, that were wicked sharp and damned beautiful – and too big for my hand, although they fit Fe's quite nicely. I'd showed her how to hold it properly, and it's a good thing too, because at the first sign of those nasty little things, she swung her arm out and…
…Yech. Don't ever cut anything's head off unless it's damned necessary. Because it's also farking messy, and Orc blood smells like shit.
I was hoping and praying that I wouldn't drop my knife, but more that these Orcs would just bugger off and leave us alone. Especially since we couldn't keep near the horses. I suppose I didn't really feel any fear, not with already having died once and knowing that this was an afterlife of sorts. Certainly this was a life after our previous one, although I'm sure that this isn't what the theologians were talking about when they said 'afterlife'.
My lack of fear wasn't specifically just because of the fact that I was already dead, because Asfaloth and Elrond's as yet unnamed horse were rearing and snapping and kicking – not a single Orc was getting close enough to do any damage to their hamstrings with those scimitars of theirs. I turned my attention back to Fe and myself, and how we were going to get the hell away from this.
I know we each killed at least one. They smartened up after Fe took the head off the first one, and didn't really get in close enough for us to get at them, but close enough that we both ended up with a couple of cuts from those crappy blades.
After a moment or two of this, I was really getting frustrated and pissed off. I mean, honestly! You'd think they'd at least let us hit them. But no, they had to shriek and laugh in a horrible manner while teasing us with their blades and trying to get us separated. I don't know how many of them there were, as we could only see the few that managed to be seen by our fire. I tried throwing bits of the fire at them, but they ignored it, except the one who's greasy hair caught fire. The others just laughed at him as he ran around screaming in pain. I wanted to be sick.
I was watching the burning one, and so was Fe, when one got impatient and came forward, scimitar raised above his head, leaving his mid regions completely unguarded. What a dumbass. I saw my chance and went for it, being damned sick of this, and wanting to be done with it, and also out of some not quite acknowledged wish to be flashy, and save the day.
Sidekick to the throat, followed quickly by a roundhouse to the head, and then a punch to the gut and a three-knuckle strike to the solar plexus. He was wearing armor, and that hurt, but he went down anyway, and I was mighty pleased with myself. I knew all those years of Karate were good for something! Feeling it all come back to me, I took out another's knees and then grabbed its sword. Not that I really knew what to do with it; just that the sharp bits were meant for the ones at the other end of it.
My heroics turned out to be somewhat pointless, because at that point we were rescued. The two Orcs that I took out just happened to be the last two that hadn't been shot down by the approaching party of Elves and Men drawn first by the noise that Fe and I were making, and then by the sounds of the Orcs. Boy did I ever feel stupid, but at least I did my bit.
They were staring at us, and I sidled up to Fiona, still holding the sword.
"You still here?" I asked.
"Yup. You?" She looked tired and drawn – and more than a little exhausted.
"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried." I was resisting the urge to fall over from both relief and the same exhaustion that Fe must be feeling. Fighting is hard work, but when it's all said and done…all you're really happy for is that you're not dead and that for now you're safe.
"Good." She said, and grabbed my arm. I grabbed her back, afraid for a moment that I'd actually end up losing her. Fe's the best friend I've ever had, and I wasn't about to let those bloody bunyips take that away. Or the Elves and Men, who were watching us curiously.
We stood staring at the Men and Elves and the dead Orcs until the silence was broken by a cry.
"Minras!" We were once again treated to the wonderful view that Glorfy offers as he ran forward to the horse I'd named Asfaloth for lack of a better name. I felt mildly betrayed when Asfal – I mean, Minras – nuzzled his hand in welcome. All the same, it was a touching scene, Elf reunited with horse, and it made my heart warm.
It froze again when Glorfy turned a glare on me. "What are you looking at me for?" I said defensively.
"You stole his horse," a new voice said, the epitome of silky sexiness. And Elf stepped forward, holding a long and rather sharp spear, a circlet of some sort of metal around his head holding his dark hair away from his face, and leaving his clear blue eyes to blaze freely. This, we found out a moment later, was Gil-galad, King of the Elves. And if you think my choice of descriptive terms is a little lame, then you should have been there, because – really – no others would fit. "Although I admit your cleverness in the matter, I am still afraid that I am unsure how it was you managed to actually stay atop the beasts. They do not carry mortal mounts."
I shared a look with Fe. Actually, I looked at Fe and found that I had to nudge her, because she was staring openly at Gil-galad with a look that I felt embarrassed to describe. When no witty remark from her was forthcoming, I felt I had to step up to bat.
"Must be our feminine charm."
There was a snigger from back in the ranks, and I turned my best death glare in that general direction. They shifted uncomfortably, or that might have been my imagination. I looked back at Glorfy; he was stroking the horse's nose and whispering to it in Elvish. Elrond appeared and went for the blood bay, which seemed a little less surly as the Elf approached.
"Gostanc, my old friend," the Elf said, giving the horse almost named 'Arse Pickle' a pat. "I trust these women did not trouble you."
Fiona still hadn't removed her eyes from Gil-galad. I gave her a harder nudge and she jumped. "Fe," I whispered. "Stop oogling the king!"
"I'm not oogling the king!"
"Yeah bloody right. Didn't you tell me that Elves were meant to be beautiful, and not sex objects?"
"Shut up!"
I had a hard time not giggling like an idiot, but some how I managed to keep my composure. Yeah right. What composure?
"You have still not answered my question," Gil-galad said, coming forward. I thought Fe was going to faint. The guy moved like a cat. "How did you stay atop the horses?"
I swallowed and stuck close to Fe, feeling my Jack Russell tendencies starting to wake up.
"Why do you care?"
"Because," Isildur answered, coming forward. "You are thieves, and thieves are punished with death."
"You have got to be kidding me!" I said, suddenly loud and more than a little annoyed. "We've already died once today, thank you very much. And if you hadn't thrown us in some friggin' tent, we wouldn't have had to escape and snark the horses."
Gil-galad exchanged looks with everyone else, and there followed a quick chatter in Elvish.
"What do you speak of? How can one die and yet still live?" Isildur looked to the Elves for confirmation.
"Er…" said Fiona. She pulled me back a foot or two. "Do you think it wise to let them in on our knowledge of their world?"
I thought frantically for a moment. "Prolly not."
"Me neither."
"Ladies? And I use the term loosely," I'm not entirely sure why Isildur had to add that little comment, but both of us turned towards him with the most perfect looks of innocence on our faces, despite dirt and scratches.
"What?" There we go again, speaking in unison.
"You have not answered our question."
"Which question was that?" After all, they had asked several.
Isildur looked ready to break something, whereas the Elves merely looked annoyed. Elrond was rolling his eyes again. I grinned at him.
"How it was you managed to stay atop the horses."
"I told you. It was our feminine charm." I was indignant. If they can't listen…a thought struck me. Isildur didn't listen to anyone after Sauron kicked it. That was precisely why everyone had to go through this again a couple thousand years down the road. Jeeze; the whole future of mankind in the balance because one guy was a greedy prick. What a bastard!
"No," said Glorfindel, surprising everyone by speaking up. "It was not that."
He stepped forward, and it was my turn to nearly faint. I've always been a sucker for blonde guys…and Glorfy was nearly silver haired. And in the light from their torches and the moon, he glowed. And he moved like a cat, which in and of itself would have normally been enough to have me drooling. And since he was in possession of those unbelievably beautiful features… If he was gay…I was going to have several fits, and none of them would have been pleasant.
Don't get me wrong though. If he was, then fine. It's his life, and I've got no right to interfere. It would just be a major loss to those of us females who were straight, be them Elves or Humans, who knew masculine beauty when they saw it, if he was gay, and one that would annoy me beyond all reason.
He stopped just before us – just before me, really, since I'd pushed Fe behind me in one of those typical 'protect the young' gestures. Look, I know I'm only four months older, but really; she's practically my twin, and that makes her family, and, by all things sacred, I protect my family.
Anyway, his close proximity – despite the fact that I'd run my hand up and down his arse earlier that day – was making me faint. He smelled wonderful. But besides that…
"What is it, Glorfindel?" Gil-galad asked.
"There is more to them than meets the eye," he said over his shoulder. And with that, he took of my hat.
I was wearing a hat? Yup, I certainly was. That was part of the whole 'missing plot chunk' business that I keep meaning to get to. It was in the backpack; Fe got one too.
Of course, my hair was down over my ears anyway. I have a lot of hair. Reaches nearly to my waist. Can you see where I'm going with this?
Hot DAMN, yes, he touched my hair. Brushed it with those long, fine-boned fingers of his, back over my ears. Don't ever let anyone tell you that the ears aren't erogenous zones, because they certainly are, and especially when you've got newly pointed ones that were just brushed ever so lightly by the hands of a hot Elf. I wanted to gibber and run about in a circle and scream and sing and dance and jump and…I could practically sense Fe behind me resigning herself to the soon-to-be repeated girly screams of 'he touched my hair!' which were no doubt going to follow the instant we were alone.
There were multiple gasps from the general vicinity of the gathered Elves and Men, but I wasn't really paying much attention to anything except the fact that Glorfy still hadn't let go of my hair.
"As you can see, your Majesty," Glorfindel began, "they are not mortals."