DISCLAIMER: Only Carla and Abby are mine.
AUTHORS NOTE: This is a total girl-flick, so prepare yourself for periods, humor, and a really bad day…
AUTHORS NOTE2: The chapters on these are a little longer than on Ellorme's Story, so if they are too long just let me know and I'll change it.
Chapter One
The Council of Elrond
(And a really bad day)
I was having a really bad day.
First, my sister broke my Lord of the Rings Soundtrack CD and tore up my favorite picture of Legolas on my bulletin board. For that, and that alone I destroyed her computer files (what she so mockingly calls 'stories'). When mom found out what had happened we were both grounded for a month. I can't begin to tell you how hard it is to get mom to change her mind when dad's off in Europe. Too bad he couldn't take Bratzilla with him.
On top of that, I sprained my ankle yesterday, plus I started my period this morning and five minutes later my computer crashed. Which means no talking to friends via email, no writing on story since my sister stole all my notepads, and worst of all, no downloading handsome elf pictures.
I was having a *really* bad day.
I locked my door and refused all food and water. Well, that's half- true. I did lock my door but there's no way that I was refusing dinner.
So there I was, stuck in bed, taping my Legolas picture back together and swearing vengeance when I could walk again and wishing I could meet the real Legolas when I suddenly found myself standing up. Not only was I standing up, painfully, but I was also no longer in my house. Not only that, but I was no longer in America. Even worse, I was no longer in my dimension.
I looked up into the eyes of a gorgeous specimen of the male species and screamed bloody murder.
The unnamed gorgeous specimen of the male species jumped about a foot. All of a sudden I realized I was in really, really big trouble.
I looked around and saw—my god, I thought—Hugo Weaving, Viggo Mortensen, *Orlando Bloom in costume*, Elijah Wood, whatever-his-name-his who plays Gimli, Ian McKellen, and Sean Bean all staring at me along with some more handsome male specimens and a few not so handsome specimens.
"Dang," I said out loud. "Of all the days for this to happen."
I suddenly became aware of the searing pain in my foot and shifted my weight off it.
I was suddenly being guarded by two cute but no cuter that Legolas elves, both with bows drawn.
"I am having a *really* bad day," I groaned to myself.
Of course, half the council immediately jumped to their feet and started yelling at the top of their lungs, either at me, or at Elrond, or at Gandalf, while the other half stared at me darkly. Actually, there was no other half. All of them jumped up and started screaming. Both the handsome elf and the cool wizard looked confused, and to my horror, the REALLY hot elf played by Orlando Bloom was looking at me suspiciously! I felt tears well up in my eyes.
Elrond and Gandalf gave up trying to silence the crowd and just waited until the people shouted themselves hoarse. Maybe "people" isn't the right term.
Dang, I thought, I've just been landed in my fav book of all time, and the people hate me!
When Elrond finally managed to edge a word in, it wasn't quite what I was hoping:
"Hold her in one of the rooms until we can deal with her."
"Wait a second!" I burst out. "You can't lock me up! I have rights!"
Elrond looked at me oddly. "Who are you?" he asked. "Where do you come from? And how did you get here?"
"Ah—well, my name is Abby—Abby Dulbo—but, ah, I don't know how I got here. And you wouldn't believe me if I told you where I was from."
Well, the council wasn't yelling at me anymore. But they were fingering their weapons. I can't think which was worse.
"Try me," the elf-lord replied dryly.
"America?" I offered timidly.
"Let's put her on the rack and see if she talks the truth!" one of the dwarves, not Gimli thank god, roared.
"Typically dwarven savagery." One elf snorted elegantly and stood, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The elves were coming to my rescue! "There are several potent drugs that can be used instead." I choked.
"Excuse me," I began as they started talking about reverse psychology and various interrogation techniques, none of which sounded very pleasant. "Excuse me!" I said louder as they began talking about physical methods of torture (mostly the dwarves) and mental methods of torture (mostly the humans) and passive techniques of torture (mostly the dark-haired elf who sat next to Gandalf who, for the record, did not look elven AT ALL). *"EXCUSE ME!"* I screamed. The group turned to stare at me in disbelief.
"Before you torture me—and I do hope you change your minds about that—would you mind hearing my story? Very odd things are happening. Hobbits carrying magical rings. Black Riders combing the streets. Don't you think there can be a perfectly logical explanation for why I suddenly appeared in your council?" I was having a hell of a good time. I was really getting their attention! This was actually working!
"No," said an elf shortly, and they returned to their argument.
"Hit me," I said to my elven captures. "I really want to wake up." They didn't say anything—actually, they were saying a lot to each other in raised tones, and didn't seem to notice me. I looked to Elrond but he hand his head in his hands and obviously wasn't having a very good day either. I looked to Gandalf but he and the rest of the Council were in the middle of a really big and really noisy argument. I inched over passed that stupid ring—I REALLY wanted to kick it—and sat down in Gandalf's seat next to a very nervous Frodo.
"Don't hit me, Sam," I said to the bush behind me, which, along with Frodo, twitched with shock. "You're in a perfect position to kill me anyway. No need to give up your cover so soon.
"Sorry," I said to Frodo. He didn't answer at first; he was staring at the Ring.
"For what?" He asked at last.
"For making you nervous. I can move over a few seats for a while, if you want, until they decide what torture method is the most effective. I think the brawling's just about to begin, though, so I should have a few minutes before my brain is wiped or my body stretched or my system drugged." I tilted my head back. "Stop moving, Sam, they're going to catch you." The irritating rustle behind me stopped.
Frodo looked at me with those big blue eyes, and he was so cute for a moment I almost forgot about the Frodo Dance. My lips twitched with amusement at the thought of him throwing Sam into Rosie's arms.
"Do you like playing matchmaker?" I asked.
He looked startled. "What do you mean?"
"With Rosie and Sam, I mean. Ow—dammit, Sam, that hurt!"
"Sam, let her alone," Frodo said absently. "You're not lying, are you?"
"No," I answered truthfully. "Too bad they think I am." I nodded to the arguing mixture of people in front of me. "This has been a really bad day. Do you think I should stay quiet or try and tell my story?"
Frodo peered at me again with those cute blue eyes. He was cute in a kid-sort of way, like a little brother. He seemed more inclined to listen that the mulling mass of bodies in front of me.
"I want to hear your story," he said softly.
So I told him everything—how I cam from another universe, that his world was a book that I happened to love, that I didn't know how I got here and I thought maybe I'd fallen through a crack in the space/time continuum. Even about the fact that I sprained my ankle yesterday and why I was having a bad day (besides the obvious, of course). I didn't tell him who's picture was ripped up—I just said a picture of a friend of mine all the while thinking I WISH to myself.
"I don't think you're lying," he said at last.
"Really?" I looked at him in surprise. "Even about your world being a book made into a movie and that your shadows are in my dimension and that I'm from a type of future that this world will never see?"
Frodo's lips twitched slightly, and he smiled as he looked down at his lap. "You seem to have taken to this world pretty good," he replied softly.
"But how can you tell?"
"Your clothes."
I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
He looked up. "Even the elves can't make clothes like that," he explained. "Too complex. You can't be from this world, then."
My, my. Little Dancing Frodo is a fashion expert.
I grinned at him, and he grinned back. "So," I said. "What do I do now?"
"Well, if you really know what's going to happen," he said, "and what has happened, why don't you tell us something only one of us would know?"
"Like how—oops, sorry."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"Like how your parents drowned when you were little, and that's why you were raised by Bilbo."
Frodo looked down and didn't say anything again.
"Hey," someone said suddenly. "Where'd she go?"
There was a moment of frantic looking before I called out, "You who! Over here! Its not like I'm going to run off—ow, god, will you please watch the hair?" I demanded as I was hauled out of my chair. Frodo stood up, too.
"Wait," he said, just as I was beginning to panic and yelling that I was innocent and that I wouldn't touch an orc with a sixty-mile long pole. "You haven't even heard what she has to say. Let her speak!"
I could have kissed him right then and there, right on the lips just for that. Legolas forgotten (for less than a microsecond), Frodo had rescued me! Chicken-Dancing Frodo saved me!
I love you, I mouthed at him, and he blushed bright red all the way up to his hairline.
So I told my story all over again, with a few minor changes like leaving out the really crummy day part and only sticking in the picture taping (not mentioning WHO'S picture it was) and the sprained ankle (pointedly to the elves, who then let me sit down after Elrond, always the healer, glared at them).
There was a long silence after I was done. Then someone, and for the sake of Lord of the Rings confidality (it wasn't anyone cute or in the fellowship) I won't say who, said, "Burn her."
"Excuse me!" I leapt to my feet and turned on him, and the writer in me snapped into place like a well-made building block. "I suppose you think you're a moral individual?" I demanded, ignoring my painful ankle and storming over towards him. I was a shrimp next to the guy but I was not about to let him damn me to one hell of a painful death. "And I suppose you think you're doing justice to your race. Well, you're not. I'm a human and I know just how stupid we can be, so disregard everything he has to say," I added over my shoulder.
"Should we disregard what you say, too?" someone asked dryly.
"I never said that," I retorted. I turned back to the guy. "How can you prove me wrong? How do you know I'm lying? How can you be so sure I should be damned to a witch's death because I happen to be the unfortunate victim of rogue magic? Who are you to judge me? Who are you to damn a life? Who are you to say who is right and who is wrong, who should live and who should die? Who are any of you?" I demanded, turning carefully and wishing I could spin dramatically but not wanting my ankle to buckle under me. "Who are any of you to deal out death and judgement? Hmm? Who gives you the right to kill or to torture? To damn a human being (crummy beings though we can be at times), a human *child*, to death by fire because you don't want to have to listen to me? So you won't have to be, 'inconvenienced,' I believe you said, by a story that just might be true? That's the way Sauron and his minions work, my friends, not how the Free People's of Middle-Earth should work. That's the code the Nazgul follow, dear, not the way you should follow. That's why an orc enjoys killing, why he finds it 'fun', rather than necessary, like any sane being should find it." I was shocked. Some people couldn't meet my eyes they were feeling so bad! "So keep that in mind while you drug me, stretch me, analyze me," I went on mercilessly. "Keep that in mind while I scream and cry and beg to be released. And keep that in mind the next time your child, parent, lover, friend is tortured or maimed for the same reasons." I was breathing hard I was so aggravated. "Just keep that in mind," I repeated.
There was a long silence. Then someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's just vote and get this over with, shall we?"
"There's still the question of the Ringbearer," someone else replied.
"I will take it," Frodo said into the silence. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Though I do not know the way," he added softly.
"Wait!" I cried. Gandalf, about to speak, stopped. "I can prove who I am to you! I know who will offer to go with Frodo." I looked around. "Take me somewhere where I can't hear you, and then I will tell one of you who his guides will be, and you can come back and see if I'm right."
Elrond and Gandalf looked at one another, and nodded. "Very well," Elrond said. "Elrohir, take her." One of the elves that sat by Elrond in a chair stood up and motioned for me to follow him. I went after him, quite a long ways into Rivendell. When we finally stopped in a room he nodded to me. "All right," he said. "Who will offer to guide Frodo?"
I decided not to close my eyes—it might look like I was trying to spy mentally on the Council. "First Gandalf, then Aragorn, then Legolas, then Gimli, then Boromir, then Sam will pop up and say that Frodo isn't going anywhere without him. Then Merry and Pippin will jump up from where they were hiding and say they will have to be tied up in a sack and send home to be kept from following. Then Elrond says, 'Nine companions. Very well, you shall be the fellowship of the Ring!' And Pippin says, 'Right—where are we going?'"
"Is that all?" Elrohir asked. I nodded. He walked me ahead of him this time. He obviously expected me to run. I stood in the middle of the Council and waited while Elrohir whispered with his father. I shifted nervously.
Elrond stood up. "The girl speaks truthfully!" he said to the Council. Then to me, he added, "A latent welcome to Rivendell, Abby."
I beamed.
"And how do we know she didn't just get lucky?" Boromir demanded.
I always knew I didn't like that guy.
"She got it right, word for word," Elrond replied. "What more proof do you need?"
"Let her tell us something that only one of us would know," Boromir said loudly. "Something no one could guess."
There was a very long silence.
I stared at my feet for a moment before looking up. "I can tell you who the bearers of the Three Elven Rings are," I said quietly.
AUTHORS NOTE: This is a total girl-flick, so prepare yourself for periods, humor, and a really bad day…
AUTHORS NOTE2: The chapters on these are a little longer than on Ellorme's Story, so if they are too long just let me know and I'll change it.
Chapter One
The Council of Elrond
(And a really bad day)
I was having a really bad day.
First, my sister broke my Lord of the Rings Soundtrack CD and tore up my favorite picture of Legolas on my bulletin board. For that, and that alone I destroyed her computer files (what she so mockingly calls 'stories'). When mom found out what had happened we were both grounded for a month. I can't begin to tell you how hard it is to get mom to change her mind when dad's off in Europe. Too bad he couldn't take Bratzilla with him.
On top of that, I sprained my ankle yesterday, plus I started my period this morning and five minutes later my computer crashed. Which means no talking to friends via email, no writing on story since my sister stole all my notepads, and worst of all, no downloading handsome elf pictures.
I was having a *really* bad day.
I locked my door and refused all food and water. Well, that's half- true. I did lock my door but there's no way that I was refusing dinner.
So there I was, stuck in bed, taping my Legolas picture back together and swearing vengeance when I could walk again and wishing I could meet the real Legolas when I suddenly found myself standing up. Not only was I standing up, painfully, but I was also no longer in my house. Not only that, but I was no longer in America. Even worse, I was no longer in my dimension.
I looked up into the eyes of a gorgeous specimen of the male species and screamed bloody murder.
The unnamed gorgeous specimen of the male species jumped about a foot. All of a sudden I realized I was in really, really big trouble.
I looked around and saw—my god, I thought—Hugo Weaving, Viggo Mortensen, *Orlando Bloom in costume*, Elijah Wood, whatever-his-name-his who plays Gimli, Ian McKellen, and Sean Bean all staring at me along with some more handsome male specimens and a few not so handsome specimens.
"Dang," I said out loud. "Of all the days for this to happen."
I suddenly became aware of the searing pain in my foot and shifted my weight off it.
I was suddenly being guarded by two cute but no cuter that Legolas elves, both with bows drawn.
"I am having a *really* bad day," I groaned to myself.
Of course, half the council immediately jumped to their feet and started yelling at the top of their lungs, either at me, or at Elrond, or at Gandalf, while the other half stared at me darkly. Actually, there was no other half. All of them jumped up and started screaming. Both the handsome elf and the cool wizard looked confused, and to my horror, the REALLY hot elf played by Orlando Bloom was looking at me suspiciously! I felt tears well up in my eyes.
Elrond and Gandalf gave up trying to silence the crowd and just waited until the people shouted themselves hoarse. Maybe "people" isn't the right term.
Dang, I thought, I've just been landed in my fav book of all time, and the people hate me!
When Elrond finally managed to edge a word in, it wasn't quite what I was hoping:
"Hold her in one of the rooms until we can deal with her."
"Wait a second!" I burst out. "You can't lock me up! I have rights!"
Elrond looked at me oddly. "Who are you?" he asked. "Where do you come from? And how did you get here?"
"Ah—well, my name is Abby—Abby Dulbo—but, ah, I don't know how I got here. And you wouldn't believe me if I told you where I was from."
Well, the council wasn't yelling at me anymore. But they were fingering their weapons. I can't think which was worse.
"Try me," the elf-lord replied dryly.
"America?" I offered timidly.
"Let's put her on the rack and see if she talks the truth!" one of the dwarves, not Gimli thank god, roared.
"Typically dwarven savagery." One elf snorted elegantly and stood, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The elves were coming to my rescue! "There are several potent drugs that can be used instead." I choked.
"Excuse me," I began as they started talking about reverse psychology and various interrogation techniques, none of which sounded very pleasant. "Excuse me!" I said louder as they began talking about physical methods of torture (mostly the dwarves) and mental methods of torture (mostly the humans) and passive techniques of torture (mostly the dark-haired elf who sat next to Gandalf who, for the record, did not look elven AT ALL). *"EXCUSE ME!"* I screamed. The group turned to stare at me in disbelief.
"Before you torture me—and I do hope you change your minds about that—would you mind hearing my story? Very odd things are happening. Hobbits carrying magical rings. Black Riders combing the streets. Don't you think there can be a perfectly logical explanation for why I suddenly appeared in your council?" I was having a hell of a good time. I was really getting their attention! This was actually working!
"No," said an elf shortly, and they returned to their argument.
"Hit me," I said to my elven captures. "I really want to wake up." They didn't say anything—actually, they were saying a lot to each other in raised tones, and didn't seem to notice me. I looked to Elrond but he hand his head in his hands and obviously wasn't having a very good day either. I looked to Gandalf but he and the rest of the Council were in the middle of a really big and really noisy argument. I inched over passed that stupid ring—I REALLY wanted to kick it—and sat down in Gandalf's seat next to a very nervous Frodo.
"Don't hit me, Sam," I said to the bush behind me, which, along with Frodo, twitched with shock. "You're in a perfect position to kill me anyway. No need to give up your cover so soon.
"Sorry," I said to Frodo. He didn't answer at first; he was staring at the Ring.
"For what?" He asked at last.
"For making you nervous. I can move over a few seats for a while, if you want, until they decide what torture method is the most effective. I think the brawling's just about to begin, though, so I should have a few minutes before my brain is wiped or my body stretched or my system drugged." I tilted my head back. "Stop moving, Sam, they're going to catch you." The irritating rustle behind me stopped.
Frodo looked at me with those big blue eyes, and he was so cute for a moment I almost forgot about the Frodo Dance. My lips twitched with amusement at the thought of him throwing Sam into Rosie's arms.
"Do you like playing matchmaker?" I asked.
He looked startled. "What do you mean?"
"With Rosie and Sam, I mean. Ow—dammit, Sam, that hurt!"
"Sam, let her alone," Frodo said absently. "You're not lying, are you?"
"No," I answered truthfully. "Too bad they think I am." I nodded to the arguing mixture of people in front of me. "This has been a really bad day. Do you think I should stay quiet or try and tell my story?"
Frodo peered at me again with those cute blue eyes. He was cute in a kid-sort of way, like a little brother. He seemed more inclined to listen that the mulling mass of bodies in front of me.
"I want to hear your story," he said softly.
So I told him everything—how I cam from another universe, that his world was a book that I happened to love, that I didn't know how I got here and I thought maybe I'd fallen through a crack in the space/time continuum. Even about the fact that I sprained my ankle yesterday and why I was having a bad day (besides the obvious, of course). I didn't tell him who's picture was ripped up—I just said a picture of a friend of mine all the while thinking I WISH to myself.
"I don't think you're lying," he said at last.
"Really?" I looked at him in surprise. "Even about your world being a book made into a movie and that your shadows are in my dimension and that I'm from a type of future that this world will never see?"
Frodo's lips twitched slightly, and he smiled as he looked down at his lap. "You seem to have taken to this world pretty good," he replied softly.
"But how can you tell?"
"Your clothes."
I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
He looked up. "Even the elves can't make clothes like that," he explained. "Too complex. You can't be from this world, then."
My, my. Little Dancing Frodo is a fashion expert.
I grinned at him, and he grinned back. "So," I said. "What do I do now?"
"Well, if you really know what's going to happen," he said, "and what has happened, why don't you tell us something only one of us would know?"
"Like how—oops, sorry."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"Like how your parents drowned when you were little, and that's why you were raised by Bilbo."
Frodo looked down and didn't say anything again.
"Hey," someone said suddenly. "Where'd she go?"
There was a moment of frantic looking before I called out, "You who! Over here! Its not like I'm going to run off—ow, god, will you please watch the hair?" I demanded as I was hauled out of my chair. Frodo stood up, too.
"Wait," he said, just as I was beginning to panic and yelling that I was innocent and that I wouldn't touch an orc with a sixty-mile long pole. "You haven't even heard what she has to say. Let her speak!"
I could have kissed him right then and there, right on the lips just for that. Legolas forgotten (for less than a microsecond), Frodo had rescued me! Chicken-Dancing Frodo saved me!
I love you, I mouthed at him, and he blushed bright red all the way up to his hairline.
So I told my story all over again, with a few minor changes like leaving out the really crummy day part and only sticking in the picture taping (not mentioning WHO'S picture it was) and the sprained ankle (pointedly to the elves, who then let me sit down after Elrond, always the healer, glared at them).
There was a long silence after I was done. Then someone, and for the sake of Lord of the Rings confidality (it wasn't anyone cute or in the fellowship) I won't say who, said, "Burn her."
"Excuse me!" I leapt to my feet and turned on him, and the writer in me snapped into place like a well-made building block. "I suppose you think you're a moral individual?" I demanded, ignoring my painful ankle and storming over towards him. I was a shrimp next to the guy but I was not about to let him damn me to one hell of a painful death. "And I suppose you think you're doing justice to your race. Well, you're not. I'm a human and I know just how stupid we can be, so disregard everything he has to say," I added over my shoulder.
"Should we disregard what you say, too?" someone asked dryly.
"I never said that," I retorted. I turned back to the guy. "How can you prove me wrong? How do you know I'm lying? How can you be so sure I should be damned to a witch's death because I happen to be the unfortunate victim of rogue magic? Who are you to judge me? Who are you to damn a life? Who are you to say who is right and who is wrong, who should live and who should die? Who are any of you?" I demanded, turning carefully and wishing I could spin dramatically but not wanting my ankle to buckle under me. "Who are any of you to deal out death and judgement? Hmm? Who gives you the right to kill or to torture? To damn a human being (crummy beings though we can be at times), a human *child*, to death by fire because you don't want to have to listen to me? So you won't have to be, 'inconvenienced,' I believe you said, by a story that just might be true? That's the way Sauron and his minions work, my friends, not how the Free People's of Middle-Earth should work. That's the code the Nazgul follow, dear, not the way you should follow. That's why an orc enjoys killing, why he finds it 'fun', rather than necessary, like any sane being should find it." I was shocked. Some people couldn't meet my eyes they were feeling so bad! "So keep that in mind while you drug me, stretch me, analyze me," I went on mercilessly. "Keep that in mind while I scream and cry and beg to be released. And keep that in mind the next time your child, parent, lover, friend is tortured or maimed for the same reasons." I was breathing hard I was so aggravated. "Just keep that in mind," I repeated.
There was a long silence. Then someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's just vote and get this over with, shall we?"
"There's still the question of the Ringbearer," someone else replied.
"I will take it," Frodo said into the silence. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Though I do not know the way," he added softly.
"Wait!" I cried. Gandalf, about to speak, stopped. "I can prove who I am to you! I know who will offer to go with Frodo." I looked around. "Take me somewhere where I can't hear you, and then I will tell one of you who his guides will be, and you can come back and see if I'm right."
Elrond and Gandalf looked at one another, and nodded. "Very well," Elrond said. "Elrohir, take her." One of the elves that sat by Elrond in a chair stood up and motioned for me to follow him. I went after him, quite a long ways into Rivendell. When we finally stopped in a room he nodded to me. "All right," he said. "Who will offer to guide Frodo?"
I decided not to close my eyes—it might look like I was trying to spy mentally on the Council. "First Gandalf, then Aragorn, then Legolas, then Gimli, then Boromir, then Sam will pop up and say that Frodo isn't going anywhere without him. Then Merry and Pippin will jump up from where they were hiding and say they will have to be tied up in a sack and send home to be kept from following. Then Elrond says, 'Nine companions. Very well, you shall be the fellowship of the Ring!' And Pippin says, 'Right—where are we going?'"
"Is that all?" Elrohir asked. I nodded. He walked me ahead of him this time. He obviously expected me to run. I stood in the middle of the Council and waited while Elrohir whispered with his father. I shifted nervously.
Elrond stood up. "The girl speaks truthfully!" he said to the Council. Then to me, he added, "A latent welcome to Rivendell, Abby."
I beamed.
"And how do we know she didn't just get lucky?" Boromir demanded.
I always knew I didn't like that guy.
"She got it right, word for word," Elrond replied. "What more proof do you need?"
"Let her tell us something that only one of us would know," Boromir said loudly. "Something no one could guess."
There was a very long silence.
I stared at my feet for a moment before looking up. "I can tell you who the bearers of the Three Elven Rings are," I said quietly.