-- Elladan --

It's strange to see Kayli outside the setting of Gondor. I think we -- that is to say, 'Ro and I -- became so used to seeing her wrapped up in the training of her Men or in some other task to her King, that it's just so hard to imagine her as anything other than an important part of the heirarchy of that kingdom.

And yet here she is, deep in discussion with a man with flaming red hair, all the while shaking her head frantically. For some reason, he seems to be holding a broom, and being very friendly. I wonder if he would be this friendly were Legolas looking over his shoulder.

"Is he really gonna try to teach her Quidditch?" Ron asks. There is a definite resemblence between him and Kayli's companion. I think it's the hair.

Harry shrugs. "I guess."

"He'll never get her off the ground," Hermione says. "From what I understand, she's petrified of heights."

"You understand correctly," 'Ro says drily. "What exactly is he trying to get her to do?"

Ron and Harry exchange glances. "Well," Harry says slowly. "I think he's trying to teach her to play Quidditch. It's a game we play on a broom."

Now 'Ro and I play eye-tag. "On...a broom," I say slowly, like saying it more slowly will make it make sense. It doesn't work.

"They're enchanted," the girl says, not lifting her eyes from her book. "They fly."

"Flying...brooms?" 'Ro asks. He sounds as incredulous as I feel.

"Yeah, it's really awesome!" Ron enthuses, and launches into this long spiel about balls and hoops and brooms and score-keeping. I tune him out and go back to watching Kayli. She's backing away from the redhead, shaking her head and holding her hands up defensively.

I think I wish Legolas could see this. His jealousy would amuse me.

We get close enough to hear their conversation, and I can hear Kayli strenuous objecting to the fact that this sport makes her feet leave the ground. I smirk.

"No, Charlie. No. Uh-uh. No way. Not a chance. None. Nada," she says, still backing away slowly, eyeing the broom like it might bite her. "My feet do not leave the ground unless forced. Especially not that MUCH off the ground. My feet LIKE the ground."

Next to me, 'Ro grins.

"Oh, come on, Kayli," the boy says, his tone charming. "It won't hurt you."

"No, but hitting the ground will," she replies.

"I won't let you fall," he says, being as charming as possible. He is charming. But nothing on us, of course. Or me, at least. 'Ro doesn't have to much in the charm department.

My twin gives me a sharp dig in the ribs and a glare. Ooops. Forgot to tone down the twinspeak there. I smirk at him.

"No," she says flatly. It's her best tone of finality. "You have no idea how clumsy I am, Charlie."

"I've seen you use your knives," he protests. "Nobody who can move like that is that clumsy!"

I clear my throat. "Want to bet?"

They both jump, and turn. Kayli's expression goes from startlement to shock, to pure, joyous recognition. It's the best thing I've seen in days.

Charlie --

I don't think I've ever seen somone so happy to see someone else in my whole life. She let out what was kind of a squeal and took a running leap at one of them, wrapping both arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. He lets out a laugh and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up easily and spinning her around. She's laughing the whole time.

He sets her back on her feet and she turns to the other one, who looks just like the first one, and wraps her arms around his neck before giving him a loud, wet-sounding kiss on one cheek. He manages to laugh, blush, and half-heartedly push her away all at once.

"What the hell are you two DOING here?" she asks, and, just like that, the questions all start tumbling out after each other. "When did you get here? Fuck that, HOW did you get here? How's everything back home? WHY are you here? Do you know how to get back? What's going on? Have I missed anything?"

The one on the left, the one she kissed, laughs. "Slow down, Kayli. You'll have your answers, I assure you." He glances at his brother. "Did you get all the questions, brother?"

Oh, good Lord, twins. Another Fred and George. I can see it happening. I make a quick mental note to hide all my underwear, not accept any food or drinks they give me, and check my soap and shampoo before I use them, just so I don't turn out green or something.

The other twin takes a deep breath. "In order asked: We have no idea, about half an hour ago, some kind of magic, fine, don't know that either, don't know that, or that, and the only things you've missed have been us panicking over not knowing where the hell you are. Other than that? Everything's fine."

Kayli sighs and rubs her temples. "Oh, fuck," she mutters, and sits down on the ground. Hard. "I don't know what we're going to do."

The two of them exchange a glance. Kayli told me about them, but I can't remember their names. "Is Legolas here as well?" one asks slowly.

Kayli looks up, but not at them, like she's just answering a voice out of nowhere. "What? Yeah, of course. He's up at the castle." She holds out one hand, and both of them take it, pulling her to her feet easily. "We should go see if Dumbledore has any idea what the hell is going on."

"Who's Dumbledore?"

"And who's your friend?" The twin who asks this question is looking directly at me, curiously. Like I'm some kind of fascinating new breed. I don't like that look. Like just seeing me amuses him. Unfortunately, it didn't have the same effect on her husband.

"Oh!" Kayli says, spinning back around. "Charlie! Elladan, Elrohir, this is Charlie Weasley, a friend. Charlie, this is Elladan and Elrohir, those friends I was telling you about."

"A friend?" one asks, arching an eyebrow. That expression makes me want to hit him. Hard.

Kayli glares at him, apparently feeling the same way. "Yeah," she snaps. "A friend. Now can we get up to the castle, please? Legolas is going to want to punch you. I hope he breaks your nose." A pause. "Or at least smushes it."

His twin laughs at him. "He just might!"

Kayli comes over and gives me a quick hug. "Ignore them, Charlie," she says softly. "They're a pain in the ass, but they're not all that bad."

I smile. "I just don't want to imagine them meeting my brothers."

She looks confused for a moment, then her eyes widen in horror. "That would...suck," she says finally, and that, I do believe, is the understatement of the century.

Kayli --

It's just like being home, only not. Elrohir is still so practical it's painful, and Elladan is cruisin' for a bruisin'. See? Just like home.

I can't wait to see Legolas's face when he sees these two. I don't know if it'll be relief, surprise, or utter despair, but I'm going for a combination of the three. But first, before we reach the castle, 'Dan nearly trips over that blonde kid with the pointy chin I met on my little tour of the castle. The one with the silly French name. Dagon? Dragon? Something silly like that.

He's staring intently at a letter in his hands, holding it like a snake. Like he's afraid it's going to rush up and bite him. He glances up at us, jumps, then glares and stuffs the letter into his robes. He jumps to his feet, looks at us, and does that haughty, superior expression King Thranduil has when he's really pissed off. Thranduil does it better. Of course, he's had a lot more practice, too.

The kid storms off, nose in the air. 'Dan and 'Ro look at me with confused expressions. I just shrug. I have no idea what his problem is. We go in looking for a Professor. Unfortunately, the first Professor we find is Trelawney, the Divination Professor, in an argument with Firenze, the other Divination Professor, who also happens to be a centaur.

Coming here made me glad I'd read Piers Anthony's Xanth novels. They let me put names to a lot of the stuff here. Like the guy with four hooves and a hairy tail.

Next to me, 'Ro jumps. 'Dan swears. There aren't a lot of centaurs in Middle-Earth.

I just shake my head. Even the really weird shit is starting to be commonplace. Centaurs, moving portraits, migrating staircases, secret passages and barmy Headmasters.

Barmy. Jesus.

I've already been here to long. I'm starting to talk like these people. I've even picked up the nifty little accent. The twins keep giving me odd glances when it comes out really strong.

But on the note of how commonplace this stuff has become. I could die happy if I saw a single Dwarf, Hobbit, or snippy bleached wizard. You know it's getting to be bad when I'd be happy to see Gandalf.

"Ah, Kayli," says a happy voice from behind us.

All three of us turn at once. Professor Dumbledore is standing in the middle of the corridor. He glances from twin, to twin, to me. "Dear me," he says mildly. "New guests."

A talent for understatement, that man. Amazing.

He gives me a big, cheerful grin. "Who are your friends, my dear?"

"Professor Dumbledore, this is Elladan, and that one's Elrohir, friends of mine from home. Guys, this is Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of this school."

They press their hands over their hearts and bow.

Dumbledore peers at them intently. "Which one is which, Kayli?"

"Left is Elladan, right is Elrohir," I tell him. If he can tell on such short acquaintence, he has better eyes than I do. It took me six months to be able to tell them apart, unless 'Dan was smirking.

But Dumbledore nods happily, like he's got it all figured out already. He scares me. No, really.

"Of course," he murmured. "Well, we shall have to find them rooms, yes? I'll send a student immediately. And then, Kayli, if I may speak to you?"

Dumbledore gestures a student forward, a girl with huge, buggy eyes, long, almost colorless hair, and a slightly mad expression. Elrohir looks nervous. "Elladan, Elrohir, this is Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw. Clever girl. She'll show you to your room. The third floor, my dear, the fifth room on the left."

Luna nods vaguely and peers at them intently. "Are you fairies?" she asks.

I have never seen an Elf look so offended.

I laugh as they walk away. "That was perfect," I say softly, listening to Luna chatter as she leads them away. I wish them much joy of her. I look at Dumbledore. "What'd you wanna talk to me about, Headmaster?"

He smiles again, beams, really, and gestures me forward with an arm. "I was wondering if you would be willing to take on some duties for the school." Why does that make me paranoid? "I'm aware that some students are interested in learning physical defense, the kind you have had to use in your world. It's not really necessary, here, as most of our battles are fought with wands. It would simply be an extracurricular activity for some."

"With parental permission only, right?" I ask. "I really don't want to hand kids a knife without their parents knowing about it." I shrug. "And if that doesn't work, at least have a teacher or someone there who has some medical knowledge. I can stop bleeding, but I'm not Healer."

He nods. "Agreed. To both. I was going to approach Master Legolas about perhaps teaching archery to those students interested. I don't know if he's going quite as mad as you are, but he seems to need something to do."

I nod. There's something else. There's ALWAYS something else. "And...?" I say after a minute. It's not that I don't trust people, it's just...well. OK. It IS that I don't trust people, although I try really hard.

"Ah, very observant," he says cheerfully. "I was also wondering if you woud perhaps be willing to help out the other Professors when they need it. Helping Madam Pomfrey after Quidditch games, Professor Snape with Potions, and such."

I'm a little doubtful about the last one. The first one I believe, any game played THAT far off the ground on an unstable cleaning object has to have SOME injuries. It would be much safer to ride a vacuum cleaner. More room to sit. But from what I've heard about Professor Snape -- mostly from Harry and Ron, who are biased, since he's the Head of their opposing House -- he probably wouldn't really welcome the help.

I just shrug. "OK. One of the twins would probably be better to help out Madam Pomfrey," I add. "They've been trained as Healers back in Middle-Earth."

Dumbledore looks intrigued. "Really? Who taught them?"

"Their father. Best Healer in Middle-Earth."

Dumbledore nods slowly, like this all makes so much sense. To him, maybe it does. Most of this shit usually doesn't make sense to me, let alone any one else I talk to about it. Harry only understood about half of what we said.

Dumbledore bows to me at the entrance of the Great Hall. I love the ceiling in this room. We should get one like it for the Great Hall in Minas Tirith. It would make the Elves feel more at home, and it would give me something to stare at when Elessar's being boring.

"Excellent," he says cheerfully. "I'll start posting notices and drawing up permission slips immediately. I would prefer it, however, if you would start out with something...less sharp in your defense lessons."

I nod. "I don't want to hand these kids knives until I'm sure they won't chop off their own hands," I tell him. "Wooden weapons would be better. All they do is bruise."

He beams at me again. Nobody should be this bloody happy all the time. Especially not when there's a war on and a bunch of evil Dark Lord-followers on the loose. "Of course," he says, still cheerful. "You can see Hagrid about that. And I will need to see a copy of your lesson plan before you begin."

He bows again and leaves.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

TBC...