A/N: Looooong chapter. Pushing seven pages, so enjoy! This is my very long apology for not updating; we didn't have any power thanks to Irene, so it was quite a while before I could post this. The lack of power combined with several busted windows and wet tree branches in our living room didn't help either.
At any rate, enjoy this chapter. And if you don't review, I shall take you out of town and finish the job! (Sorry, my youngest just watched The Emperor's New Groove)
She strolled along the worn stone footpath, her bare feet making no noise on the smooth rocks. Ferns whispered at her ankles, tugging feathery fingers along the rolled-up leggings, which exposed her pale ankles. Around her, gigantic trees stretched to the heavens, the mighty boughs laden with chirruping birds that were busy welcoming the new morning. A golden sun, as satisfied and dignified as a lioness waking from its nap, was climbing the sky to settle in its usual place among the fluffy clouds. The last tinges of dawn was fading from the sky, leaving behind a hard, clear cerulean that reminded Daphne of her home state, Montana. Although she loved the roar and bustle of the big city, she missed the wide plains and open spaces, the feeling of utter freedom when faced with nothing but mountains and sky as far as her eyes could see. She skirted around the edge of a deep, black pool, pausing for a brief moment to examine the silver-orange fish that were swimming lazily near the surface, watching closely for treats. A small waterfall pummeled the far corner, sliding down from among several rocks that were creating more ripples. A boulder was centered in the middle of the pond, and a large brown turtle was sunning himself on it already. Daphne continued down the footpath, not really having a specific place to go, just desiring to see more of Imaldris. She ran a hand through her spiked hair and a smile curved her lips. The novelty of being in Middle Earth had not yet worn off, and she wanted to drink in as much of it as possible before she had to begin work.
The forest went dead still, and her guard went up immediately; she waded in among the ferns to hide behind a tree. The rough, scaly bark gritted against her soft palms as she tensed. There was something approaching, and the forest had gone suddenly, ominously quiet. All of the birds froze, and she saw the glimmer of a hare poised to dart into the underbrush, spoon-shaped ears twitching as it listened. Daphne was very close to abandoning pretense and scaling the tree when a gentle voice sounded out, right behind her and quite close to her ear. "I knew mortals were cautious, but you seem to be remarkably jumpy, Lady Daphne." said a smooth, silky voice in her ear. Daphne shrieked and nearly leapt out of her skin, whirling around and pressing her back to the tree. Her silver-green eyes were wide as dinner plates, and she wouldn't have been surprised to see her heart pulsing just beneath her borrowed tunic. When she saw who it was, her heart settled somewhat, and she clutched a hand to her throbbing heart. Lord Elrond stood before her, his dark hair pulled back in a warrior plait. His gray eyes were merry; apparently, he had wanted to frighten Daphne. There were no lines on his face, but Daphne got a feeling from him that he had seen many things he did not wish to see, and had walked many miles upon the world. Then his eyes softened, and he touched her elbow lightly. "Forgive me, Lady Daphne; I merely wished to see your reaction. Please accept my humble apologies."
Daphne waved him off distractedly. "No, no, it's fine," she panted, running her hands through her hair. Elrond observed her with interest, his gray eyes scanning her carefully. She was short, plump, with ample curves and a sweet, almost cherubic face. Her hair had been wildly teased into stiff spikes, with peculiar silvery green eyes that reminded him of willow boughs trailing in the water or frosted fir trees. A friendly smile was playing about her pink lips, but there was something very sharp and almost military about her posture. She winked at him and forged her way out of the delicate ferns, trampling her way back to the footpath. She flicked a glance behind him; Elrond had stepped between each fern, without bruising a single leaf. She felt a laugh bubbling in her throat, but with practiced ease, swallowed her grin and instead asked a question. "So do you come out here often?" she asked, trying to make it not sound like a bar pick up line. Elrond led the way down the narrow path, stepping lightly on the rocks as if he weighed nothing at all. Daphne tried; she landed hard on her toes and felt like a clumsy ballerina dancer.
"I come here often to meditate, yes," Elrond said. "And to watch the rising sun. I had been greeting her arrival when I heard you pass by." He threw a glance over his shoulder, gray eyes twinkling. "I might add, with all due respect, you do make quite a bit of noise."
Daphne shrugged. "Maybe to an elf, but to humans I thought I was being pretty quiet." A sudden thought struck her with the dull thump of a heavy book being thrown across the room. "Hey, isn't the Council being held today? I forgot about it until now!"
All of the merriment drained from Elrond's steel eyes, and his lashes lowered. "Yes, the Council is being held today. After breakfast, we shall meet on the front porch. Please make sure all of the Authors are there; it would be a terrible tragedy to lose any of them."
She looked at him curiously. "Wait a second. You're a character; how do you know who we are?" she asked, dark slender brows coming together. She worried her bottom lip, wondering if everyone in the story already knew how it played out. Elrond smiled slightly.
"I am a character, you might say," he said lightly. "But I do not know how I affect the story itself. It is imperative," - he turned suddenly sharp and cold - "that you do not reveal anything to any of the others. The story must continue, for better or for worse."
Daphne nodded once, following him through the meadows until they reached the front porch. Elegant birch boughs trailed fingers of leaves across the roof, and ivy twined up the pillars. There was a creaking noise, and Daphne saw with a little pleased start that Maddie was deep in conversation with Gandalf. The old wizard was smoking a pipe and appeared to be delighted with his flighty counterpart. Elrond's sensitive ears pricked up, as if listening, but all Daphne could hear were indistinct murmurs. Just when her ears were picking out a few words - she felt a hot prickle of surprise when she heard her name being mentioned - Gandalf looked up abruptly and smiled. "Good morning, Lady Daphne!" he greeted her fondly. His pipe was in his gnarled hand, and the smoke that hovered above the porch ceiling was turned a bright pink. Maddie was dressed in a tunic and leggings, except her tunic was sleeveless, exposing very pale, small arms. She peeped at Daphne from underneath her thick frizzy bangs, her dark-rimmed glasses slipping off the end of her nose. She looked very bright and alert, and two pink patches were seated on her cheeks.
"And the day to you, Mithrandir, Lady Madison," Elrond said with a formal nod to each. Maddie got up hastily, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist as she dropped into a fumbling curtsey. Daphne knew what she was feeling; Elrond commanded a presence of nobility and power, and he full earned the title 'lord'. Elrond, however, chuckled low in his throat and bowed politely to Madison. "I trust you slept well?" he asked considerately. Maddie bobbed her head and sat down again, cheeks flaming beneath her frizzy hair. Daphne laughed kindly, and took a seat next to Maddie.
"I slept like a rock," Daphne said. Her green eyes alighted upon the teacup, which was positioned near Maddie's elbow. It was half-full of rose-colored liquid, and judging from the extremely sweet smell, she had added at least three generous teaspoons of sugar to the tea. Elrond followed Daphne's eyes, and gestured towards the tea.
"Would you like some breakfast, Lady Daphne? We shall be long at discussions; if you wish, I shall send a tray down for the Authors and the Bookkeeper." Elrond said. Daphne nodded, and Elrond departed, making no noise over the lush grass. Daphne watched him go, and then turned to Gandalf.
"They call Tolkien the Bookkeeper?" Daphne asked interestedly. Maddie slurped her tea noisily, and then glanced at Gandalf guiltily. Gandalf stroked his beard, tugging the end of it and gazing off into the distance silently.
"That is what the elves call him," he answered. "He is Bookkeeper to the elves; The Author to the dwarves, and Caregiver to the mortal men. He goes by many names, all of them benevolent. They say even the Valar obey his every command; which would be completely accurate, considering he created them!" Gandalf seemed to think this a very good joke, and for some moments all Daphne and Madison could get out of him were more chuckles.
Madison was about to delve deeper into what the world knew about Tolkien when a burst of loud, raucous laughter echoed over the building. All three of them turned and saw Melody collapsing against the side of the porch, shrieking with laughter as she tried to keep herself upright. Michael was in the middle of a funny story, but laughter kept interrupting him. "And so, so, there's this guy - this Pakistani guy or whatever - and he's all like 'Do we take dimes?', and this other guy's like 'Yes, money is money!'." Michael and Melody roared with laughter, stumbling towards Gandalf and the girls. Melody wiped a tear from her eye and, with a final giggle, fell down into a rocking chair near Maddie. Michael took a seat next to her, looking rather smug; he had just scored major points with a 'hottie'.
"Good morning, you guys," Daphne greeted them. "What's so funny?" she asked. Michael and Melody took one look at each other and burst out laughing again, then dried up instantly when they saw the pale, slender figure of Isabella approaching. Isabella had that gift; everyone turned sober whenever she entered the room. It might have had something to do with the permanently down turned lips, the knotted brow, and those sneering blue eyes, harsh as flint and twice as sharp. She sat down a little ways away from the group, crossing her arms.
"Morning." She said bluntly. Lack of sleep did not agree with her; there were bruise-colored circles beneath her eyes and her skin - already bleached from the glow of a computer - was wan and pale. And yet she seemed to be alert and quick, her eyes never staying in one place for too long. She absorbed the facts of the room and displayed them in one short sentence. "It seems as though I'm not very welcome here, am I?" she said frostily. Madison, always the compassionate one, turned to her with her smoky blue eyes wide.
"Oh, Isabella, of course we like you!" she said, reaching out to pat her knee. Isabella pulled her leg away with a look on her face as if she had just swallowed several raw lemons. Madison recoiled as though she had touched a hot brand.
"That is not what I mean," Isabella snapped. She pointed to Michael. "Michael has the gift of wit; he can put humor into any text or situation. Every story must have humor; it's what separates books from each other." She paused, then pointed towards Madison. "Madison can describe things eloquently. Her nervous nature and self-damaging attitude can interpret love and longing perfectly, for she describes what she most wants." (Madison turned pink as a rose when she said this, but Isabella continued recklessly.) "Melody is quick on her feet and is excellent with memorization. Her interpretations of Tolkien's work and characters are nearly all spot on. And Daphne is our leader, which is undisputed. She is well rounded in all subjects, having displayed the calmest nature of all of us. Her writing is unequaled; without her, we would never be able to achieve anything." She looked 'round the group again, and this time she tapped her knee with every word for emphasis. "But I serve no purpose. I do not write well; it is not one of my abilities. I do not know why Tolkien and Gandalf selected me - or even how they selected me - and I am of the opinion they made an error. Therefore, it is for the best that you send me back."
There was a long silence, and then Gandalf blew a lovely violet smoke ring towards the clouds. It sailed away, on a journey of its own, unbroken, until it vanished from sight. "Well, Lady Isabella, that was a very well put together argument," he said smilingly. He turned to her, his beard twitching with amusement. "But really, do you expect us to believe you serve no purpose? It is perfectly obvious that you wish to return home because you are homesick and highly dislike being in a new environment; you have concocted this sleek, excellent argument that would, in any other case, be completely true. But you're forgetting one key element." He waited for someone to say 'what'.
"What?" Madison asked.
"Doesn't every story have a proof-reader of sorts?" Gandalf asked. "Really, I'm amazed you didn't think of it yourselves! All good stories have to be edited; it's what makes them good. Isabella will be your editor; her keen eyes can capture any flaws you make."
"A beta!" Melody said. "That's what you are! You're a beta!"
Isabella looked as though Melody had just called her a flying pink elephant with fluffy purple wings. "So I shall look for prepositions and misplaced nouns, run-on sentences and dangling verbs?" she said with a wry, sarcastic smile. "Lovely. Cleaning up after inferior authors who don't know the difference between 'their', 'there', and 'they're'."
Madison opened her mouth, perhaps to say that she did know the difference, when they heard a shout of laughter from the corner of the House. All heads swiveled to see who it was, and when they did, Madison shut her mouth with a snap and turned crimson.
A young elf, his blonde hair pulled behind him in a warrior plait, was strolling up the path. He wore a green tunic with leather fastenings, and dark leggings. His eyes were a sky blue, clear as glass and sparkling with merriment. A quiver of arrows was strung over his back, and sheathed on his hip was a knife with an ivory handle. A bow was crossed over his back, and even from the distance, they could see it was honey-colored, covered with elaborate designs. He was handsome, in a pale, slender way, and there seemed to be a laugh just about to spill from his lips. Beside him was a completely different man; he was tanned, with a windswept face and shaggy brown hair. He was rugged with stubble coating his cheeks, and his cloak was tattered and stained. A sword was belted to his waist, and there was a knife in his boot. His chocolate brown eyes were sharp and keen, and they glared from underneath a striking brow and straight profile. He looked wary and tense, almost as if someone was going to spring a trap on him at any moment. But he was smiling, clapping the elf on the back, and the two of them were discussing something in rapid elvish. Not for the first time, Daphne regretted that she hadn't taken those elvish courses at her community college. They would have come in handy when she was actually in Middle Earth.
"Oh, my god!" Melody whispered. "It's Legolas and Aragorn!"
"No way!" Michael said, sitting upright and gazing into the distance like a wolfhound. "Aragorn is so badass!"
"Legolas is way cooler," Melody said. "Remember that shield thing, at Helm's Deep?"
"Remember just about every time Aragorn saved the Fellowship's sorry ass?" Michael retorted. "Nah, Aragorn is better."
It is quite possible they would have continued arguing over who was better until the cows came home (A phrase which here means, "Until Michael submitted") but just then, Elrond came back with a laden tray of food. In the scuffle of snatching hot muffins and steaming biscuits, the argument was forgotten. Madison was too excited to eat, and she was bouncing around on her chair as though she had just sipped helium. Legolas pounced on the porch, surveying the group with interested blue eyes. Aragorn moved with a lazy, easy grace that was deceptively calm, and he took a seat a few paces away from the group. Legolas, however, was not about to be deterred by a few seating arrangements.
"Good morning!" he cried. All of them leapt to their feet, emitting various degrees of surprise as they moved forward to formally meet the Prince. He bowed politely to the four girls (Madison looked as though she might faint). "I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. May I ask the acquaintance of you four lovely young ladies?"
"God, he is such a flirt," Melody whispered in Daphne's ear. Fighting to keep a straight face, Daphne shook hands firmly with Legolas. Legolas seemed quite taken aback that she shook hands like a man, but he hid it well. He didn't mention that he had heard what the pretty blonde had said; his ears were quite keen and he was sure he could use the phrase to tease her later.
"I'm Daphne Anderson," Daphne said politely. "And these are my friends; Melody, Isabella, Madison, and Michael. It's great to finally meet you. We..." she trailed off. How to explain that they all knew virtually everything about him? "We're the Authors," she said. Aragorn got to his feet and came over in a flash. They both seemed either surprised or horrified.
"You are the Authors?" Aragorn asked. His voice was rough and low, with a bite of gravel in the lowest undertones. When they nodded the affirmative, his steely eyes went cold. "I knew the last Author and his Apprentice," he said sadly. "They were great leaders." He fixed them with a fierce look. "I hope you will be able to rid us of -"
Before he got any further (and before I can continue this story without any more interruptions from characters), there was the sound of someone singing. They had a beautiful singing voice, like a choir of angels coaxing songs from cherubs. Daphne fought the urge to clap her hands over her ears. The rest of the Authors seemed to be in similar situations; Michael had a look on his face like a sour lime, Madison seemed as though she were about to burst into tears, Melody was growling, and Isabella's mouth was a hard, thin line. Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas, however, turned instantly and flew to the woman with various cries of delight. They all had very stupid expressions on their faces, similar to the look on one's face if you had just had all of your cheek muscles removed. Aragorn was smiling, exposing a great deal of teeth, and so was Gandalf and Legolas. Adavis was dressed in an elaborate gown of shimmering silver that changed from gray to black to white as she moved. A necklace of sparkling diamonds hung on her neck, and her bare feet were decorated with toe rings. A dagger hung at her hip, and her hair was pulled behind her in a braid. Her silver eyes regarded the group fondly, and after brushing away Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas, she seated herself near the Authors.
"Oh, my little friends!" she cried. Out of nowhere, she pulled a harp and began to play it. Once again, a shaft of sunlight beamed down for absolutely no reason and illuminated a thousand golden dust motes that sparkled around her like tiny shards of purest diamonds. Her ebony hair was pulled behind her, shining in the sunlight and woven into a beautiful, complicated plait. Her pale cheeks were flushed the delicate pink of a sulphur rose, those dancing eyes now a glassy green. Daphne scowled at the eye-change. She despised Sues with this attribute. On most occasions, it was the forgetfulness of the author, but some other people just decided to change the color for no reason whatsoever. Daphne felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle when Adavis said 'friends'. "I trust your rest was well?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she beamed at the sunny day, perfect teeth winking like new pearls. "My friend Frodo had recovered, praise Elbereth!"
"Thanks to Adavis's unsurpassed beauty, charisma, and healing skills," Gandalf said, "Frodo has made a full recovery."
Melody snarled low in her throat. "I thought Elrond healed Frodo?" she asked loudly, unable to keep quiet any longer. This Sue was ridiculous! Adavis scowled, a frown marring her perfect features, and threw the harp. It struck Gandalf squarely between the eyes, but the old wizard went on smiling dopily as if Adavis had just given him flowers. A red welt puffed up where the harp had struck him, but Gandalf appeared not to have noticed.
"My Ada has been known to falsify rumors," Adavis said nastily. "Rest quite assured, I was the one who healed Frodo. Don't worry your pretty little heads about it." She beamed at Melody, who gave her the smile equivalent of an angry rhino.
Daphne buried her face in her hands, digging her nails into her scalp. Getting rid of this Sue would be a long, hard process. Her spiked head shot up when she heard Adavis speaking in a condescending voice to Maddie.
"Really, dear, you ought to put something on your arms. You don't really think they're tanned enough to be exposing in public, do you? And they're so skinny! You ought to get some more meat on your bones, dearest." Adavis said sweetly. Maddie felt hot tears prickling the corners of her eyes, and she pushed her glasses up to rub hastily at them. Adavis sat back in her chair prettily, toying with her skirt hem. Daphne was outraged; her cheeks were flaming with anger and her words tripped over each other in their haste to spill out.
"That's mean!" Daphne snapped. "More meat on her bones? At least Maddie doesn't push her breasts to her chin and flip her hair all over the place and wear a dress that makes you look like Mother Teresa at a Grateful Dead concert!"
Adavis might not have known who the Grateful Dead were, but she knew an insult when she heard one, especially if it had the word 'breasts' in it. "Well, dear, you have plenty of meat on your bones. A little too much, I think," Adavis said critically, eyeing Daphne's plump figure. "You need to watch your hips, sweetie; you'll look like one of those pudgy Rohirric women who think they're shapely!"
Daphne went positively crimson with rage, and spluttered something incoherent. Michael effortlessly jumped in, his smooth, suave voice overriding Daphne's ferocious growls. "Yeah, well, I see what you mean. Daffie's a little big, but hey, some guys dig that. You know, more bounce to the ounce?" He flashed his smile, a sideways grin that hitched the corner of his mouth. Adavis seemed puzzled, and Michael moved in for the kill. "You know the sayin'? 'They don't skinny dip, they chunky dunk!' Ain't that a great one?" he laughed and slapped his knee. Daphne, who seemed equally angry that Michael was calling her chubby, was about to turn on him when she heard Adavis's musical voice masking Daphne's sentence.
"That is quite amusing. You are a charming man, Michael," Adavis said. Michael didn't flush as some men would; he merely puffed his chest out a little farther and lounged in his chair. With his spiky hair and dark complexion, he looked like some exotic panther who was immensely pleased with himself. Daphne subsided to low snarls, fisting handfuls of her leggings. She would get even with this Sue if it were the last thing she did.
09
It was only a half an hour later when most of the visitors came to the meeting, but Maddie was ready to scratch someone's eyes out right now. She had already burst into tears after a snide comment about her sleeveless shirt and "untoned" arms, and Maddie had tearfully hidden her arms inside her tunic. It would stretch the fabric, and made her look ridiculous, but she didn't want everybody from the Council of Elrond to compare Adavis's tanned, toned arms to her pale, skinny ones. Surreptitiously she pushed her glasses farther up her nose and tried to melt farther into the corner. Maddie admired Daphne more every time the blonde woman opened her mouth. She was confident, passionate, and everything Madison wanted to be. And, it so happened, everything that Maddie knew she wasn't. Chewing absently on her nails, she watched a few more elves file in, taking seats on the wide porch. All of them were amazingly handsome, with rippling hair and laughing eyes, lithe bodies and flirtatious smiles.
As the meeting began, Maddie felt her eyes beginning to droop. It was fascinating and all, but the stories were essentially the same: Chaos Is Reigning. Please Help Us. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes again, stifling a yawn behind the neck of her tunic. She wrapped her arms around her knees, tucking them into the tunic. It would look like she was wearing a shapeless pillow by the time the meeting was over, but she felt safe when she was locked in a tight position. Her mother - who was a renowned psychiatrist - said it was a symptom of low self-esteem. Maddie knew she had low self-esteem; she just didn't know how to fix it. She wasn't pretty, wasn't athletic, couldn't talk to kids her own age, didn't have friends, and didn't wear the cool clothes. So she buried herself in books and knowledge, slowly filling her mind up with facts and vocabulary, trying to make up for her lack of courage and physical attributes. She had gotten along fine without friends or heroes, or so she thought. It was just a different personality, she told herself. Some people are movers and shakers, and some people need to be moved and shaken. Madison had decided early in life to be the latter.
But now, confronted with Daphne, she saw a different kind of woman. Daphne was smart, that much was obvious; she was pretty too, in a plump sort of way. And she was strident and confident, cool and collected. She was a woman who knew exactly where she was going and why. Even her posture, a straight, firm line, said she had everything under control. Even now, thrown into a world she had only read and dreamed about, Daphne was completely serene. She had an interested look on her face as she listened to the tales of Gloin, the gray-bearded dwarf, her past squabble with Michael and Adavis forgotten. Her odd silver-green eyes were flickering between the members of the council and Elrond, who was watching them with a grave face. Maddie nibbled her lower lip and suppressed a sigh. She wanted to be like Daphne: smart, cool, confident, with the aura and presence of a natural born leader. But she just wasn't.
Madison hoped it wouldn't put Middle Earth in jeopardy.