A/N: Much, much, MUCH, better! And now, if you'll all please review again...
Isabella examined herself carefully in the long mirror that gleamed before her. They had trudged along the roads for a good half an hour in the pouring rain, getting mud splattered on them, and trying not to concentrate on Adavis's constant chattering. For someone so depressed, the beautiful elven lady was remarkably fascinated by her own sufferings. She recounted in great detail every tragedy that had befallen her life: being an orphan, teased constantly by other elleths, her uncle who had tried to kidnap her at the tender age of twelve, the arranged marriage with her cousin at the age of fifteen. Not to mention the dozens of times she had been in battles and nearly lost her life. Isabella had listened to them all, analyzing the cadence in her voice and the body language, and decided that Adavis was telling the truth, or at least she thought she was. But there was no mistaking what Adavis was; Isabella didn't use the handlename MarySuePsycho69 for nothing. However, there was something different about this particular Mary Sue, and Isabella was determined to find out what. She turned around and examined the plush bed which had been thoughtfully made up for her arrival; on it was a pile of clothes.
She straightened the dark blue tunic which hung nearly to her knees, then belted the thin black belt which slouched over her narrow hips. Her eyes slitted, and then she made a face at the mirror. With the black leggings underneath the long tunic and the black boots, she looked as though she had just stepped out of The Scarlet Pumpernickel. Isabella had never been one much for dressing up, because most of her chess games were hosted in the blissful anonymity of the internet, but she did enjoy dressing well. And dressing like a prancing fop from the theater was not very high on her "to-do" list. She left her luxurious rooms and headed outside into the hallway. Across the hall was Melody, who was dressed in a similar outfit. Somehow, the crimson tunic and creamy white leggings looked a lot better on her than it did on Isabella, and the dark haired girl sneered at the pretty blonde. "Figure it out yet, fugitive?" she asked.
"I'm not a fugitive," Melody snapped in an equally nasty tone. All flirtatiousness and coyness had vanished, and Isabella had a very good feeling that she was looking at the real Melody Miller, not the girl who hid behind her own beauty. Isabella cocked an eyebrow, and Melody marveled how much sarcasm that one eyebrow lift could hold.
"Oh, really? So you prance around in orange jumpsuits for no reason, do you?" Isabella said, striding confidently down the hallway. Her analytical brain had memorized the intricate passageways through which Elrohir had shown them: left, right, straight, right, left, left, right. There appeared to be no order or sense to the layout of the palace, but Isabella had already figured out where everything was by simple deduction.
"So I was in jail, all right? I'm totally innocent. And I don't prance." Melody scowled, folding her arms. She didn't like blindly following a girl who was head and shoulders shorter than she, along with a girl who seemed as though she had figured her out. Melody didn't like being dissected. It was part of the reason she hated her father so much.
Isabella snorted. "Everyone who goes to jail says their innocent; you are no exception. And I suppose that little 'mishap' where you tried to rifle through Elrohir's pockets was a total accident, right?"
"You little-!" Melody spluttered. "I mean, I wasn't - It's not how it looked, all right!"
A serene, self-satisfied smile appeared on Isabella's face. It was very close to how a cat looks after finishing a bowl of cream. "Incomplete sentances," Isabella purred. "A sure sign of guilt."
Melody was about to pin Isabella against the wall and jab a knee into her solar plexus when Madison appeared out of nowhere. The bushy-haired girl looked close to tears, and her dark blue eyes were swimming behind her glasses. She had also bathed and changed, but the pale yellow tunic and brown leggings did nothing to aid her slender, unremarkable figure. "Oh, thank God!" she panted, sensibly short nails digging into her freckled cheeks. "I've been wandering around this infuriating labyrinth for eons now. I went looking for the restrooms and somehow sidetracked myself." She joined Isabella and Melody.
"Have you caught sight of Michael or Daphne as of yet?" she asked.
"Okay, Madison," Melody said, her teeth scraping against each other, "If you're trying to impress me by using a bunch of ridiculously long words, stop it right now. No, I haven't seen Daphne or Michael and neither has Isabella. She's been too busy insulting me."
"I know how that feels," Madison said sympathetically, "Did you gander at the way that woman we met was talking? I thought I might weep."
"Madison," Isabella interrupted irritably, "Your book knowledge and expansive vocabulary are not helping you in this matter. Do both of us a favor and be quiet while I locate Michael and Daphne."
Madison, forever the obedient one, clamped her mouth shut and dutifully didn't say another word all the way to the dining hall.
The dining hall was a behemoth of a room, with expansive ceilings that reached to the skies. Oaken pillars, intricately designed with fantastic sagas and depicting epics long forgotten, lined the room. Silken tapestries were draped artfully over the walls, splashes of bright color in the otherwise somber room. A huge table, scarred with thousands of imprints of boot heels and frosty ale mugs, stretched the length of the hallway. Chairs with velvet cushions placed lovingly upon each seat rimmed the gigantic table. At the very end, seven places had been set with the utmost care. Chalices full of some sparkling red liquid were at each setting, along with ivory-handled utensils and a wooden plate that had been painted beautifully with dozens of colors. Daphne was sitting with her feet propped on the table, butterscotch colored boots hovering dangerously close to her goblet of wine. She was laughing brightly at something Michael was telling her, but stopped when they entered. Her hair stood up in damp peaks, and the pale green tunic she was wearing matched her eyes closely. Michael was lounging regally over his chair, somehow managing to look amused, easy-going, handsome, and noble all at once. "Hey, guys," Daphne greeted. She didn't bother getting up, but instead groped for her wine and sipped it. "What took you so long?"
"Miss Brainiac over here took a couple wrong turns," Melody lied, taking a seat next to Michael, ignoring the appreciative look he flashed at her cleavage. Melody was annoyed to see that the comment didn't faze Isabella in the least.
"I did nothing of the sort," Isabella said tartly. "Have any of you figured out why we're in Middle Earth?"
"Because we're dead?" Michael ventured. When no one answered, he said defensively, "Well, why else are we here?"
"Have you even looked at Adavis?" Isabella said, mouth slightly open. She could not believe she was fated to be grouped with these imbeciles. "She's the biggest, most obnoxious Mary Sue I have seen!"
"Oh!" Daphne said, looking up from her wine. "Wait, what is a Mary Sue doing in Middle Earth? I thought they only existed in fanfictions."
"That is what I would like you to tell me," came a deep voice from the doorway. They all looked up to see an old man leaning on a thick, stout stick. His clothes were long gray robes of some kind of coarse material, and they fell to the floor. A blue hat stood stiffly upwards as if it had been frightened, and a bushy white beard nearly touched his waist. Thick eyebrows were drawn upwards, and twinkling blue eyes sparkled underneath them as if he had just been told a merry joke. All five of the young adults bolted to their feet with various cries of shock and surprise.
"Gandalf?" Daphne said, gaping at the old man who was calmly taking a seat next to her. "Oh my God!" she breathed, sitting down hard. "I've never...I mean, it's a huge honor to meet you, sir!"
"Please," Gandalf said with a chuckle, "When you are as old as I, you will disregard such politeness as calling other people 'sir'. It makes me feel old." He rummaged around in his sleeves for a moment, then withdrew a polished black pipe which he stuck in the corner of his mouth. There was a flare of light as he lit his pipe, then a beautiful blue smoke ring puffed from his pipe. "Now, I suppose you all must introduce yourselves."
"I'm Daphne Anderson," Daphne said right away, for she liked to be in the lead. "It's wonderful to meet you, Gandalf."
"I'm Isabella Hanover," Isabella drawled, not looking up from her plate. Her pulse had flared once when he came in, for who didn't know and respect the old wizard? But now that the novelty had faded she was as sour as before. "A pleasure, I'm sure."
"Michael Rodriguez, very cool to meet you," Michael said, shaking Gandalf's hand. His shifty, sideways grin flickered on his mouth. "Peace, and all that."
"I'm Melody Miller," Melody said sweetly, feathering her hands through her hair. "I can't believe you're Gandalf! Amazing! Can you do any spells?"
"At another time, perhaps," Gandalf chuckled. Then his bright blue eyes turned on Madison, who was still staring at Gandalf with her mouth wide open and her eyes huge smoky blue orbs. "And who is this young lady who stares at me so?"
"I'm M-Madison," Madison stuttered. "Madison P-Poole. You're Gandalf? Gandalf Greyhame? Mithrandir? Gandalf the Gray?"
"Those are some of my names, yes," Gandalf acquiesced with a slight nod. "And now that it appears you all know who I am, and I know who you are, I believe I should explain properly." He leaned back in his chair, puffing on his pipe and sending smoke rings to the ceiling. "Oh, where to begin?
"I suppose I should begin at the beginning. You see, a very long time ago, when this world was still young, I stumbled upon a spell that could bring others to our world. It seemed simple enough; just a bit of magic, the right ingredients, and everything would be wonderful. I brought a very nice young woman into this world, and she stayed here. Slowly, her body and mind became deeply connected to Middle Earth, and the natural magic that our world is steeped in changed her appearances. You shall meet her later, I believe, but it is important right now that I get the whole story out before I get distracted. I continued on my way, passing through my life. What I didn't realize is that I inadvertently opened a portal for other creatures to come in. I believe you already met the charming Miss Adavis."
"Yes, we had the pleasure of making her acquaintance," Daphne growled. Her hands snapped to fists. Adavis's comments about Maddie still rankled her harshly.
"Well, Miss Adavis is merely one of the many who have come in through many different worlds. They go from world to world, changing events and quirking legends, subtly rearranging some while wholly rennovating others. You can see the obvious danger they pose to this world. I have been able to get by with bringing one or two excellent authors to 'write' them out of our world. However -" here his brow furrowed, "My other attempts to take this particular woman out of our world has been largely unsuccessful. I have brought in three young authors in succession, and now I have decided to use you six."
"But there's only five of us," Madison squeaked. Gandalf smiled.
"Not five, little Maddie. Six." He paused, and then the large oaken door boomed open with a crack like thunder. Gandalf looked up with a pleased smile on his features. "And I believe this is him now!"
An old man with very gray hair came in, stripping off his gloves. Instead of tunics and leggings, he wore neatly pressed black trousers, a crisp white shirt that was rolled to the elbow, a dark gray vest, and a plum cravat. He was quite old, and handsome in a clean-cut, elegant way, and tiny glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. Striking brown eyes, warm and soft as a pile of furs, regarded the motley crew and he smiled.
"How rude of me!" he cried, and they discovered he had the snap of a heavy British accent in his voice, "Forgive me for arriving late; I was busy being entertained by our young horses. Horses fascinate me, you know," he added with a warm glance at Daphne. What he said next managed to make Maddie faint, Daphne shriek, Michael swear, Melody gasp, and Isabella look surprised all at once.
"I am John Tolkien, but please," he smiled at them again, "Call me Ronald."