Chapter Ten: Happy Endings?

Merry flung his pen down and stood quickly.  “There.  It’s done.”

“It took you long enough,” Pippin teased.

“It wouldn’t have taken so long if you hadn’t made me stop every few seconds to keep you from cheating!” Merry retorted.

A sharp glare from Gandalf halted the bickering between the hobbits, and the glen fell silent for a moment.

“Now what?” Sam asked quietly.  “We did what she wanted, didn’t we?”

Legolas tensed suddenly, his hand flying to his knife.

“What is it?” Gimli asked, his own hand dropping to his axe-hilt.

The elf shook his head.  “I-“

A short flash of white light cut him off.

“Greetings once again,” said a soft voice.

The grey-cloaked woman stood once more before them.  “I thank you for cooperating,” she said.

Instantly, Legolas’ knife, Gimli’s axe, and Gandalf’s staff were aimed at her.

“Who are you?” Pippin demanded, stepping up beside the armed warriors.

The woman merely laughed and made a tapping gesture in the air.  All three weapons disappeared.

Gimli paused only a moment, staring at his now-empty hands.  Then, he roared in fury and charged the woman.

The woman made yet another gesture, and the dwarf stopped, a bewildered look on his face.

“What sort of being possesses such power?” Aragorn murmured.

“I suggest you bid each other farewell,” the grey-clad woman said, ignoring Aragorn’s question.  “Since you have successfully completed your task, I shall return you to your own world with my thanks.”

“We’re not leaving until you tell us who you are!” Merry stated firmly.

A smile lingered in the woman’s voice.  “Bid your friends goodbye, Meriadoc.”

Somehow compelled by her voice, the eight companions did as the grey-cloaked woman said and bid each of their friends a very fond farewell.

“Now.”

The woman in grey raised one hand and pushed back her concealing hood, revealing the face of a human teenager.  “My name is Mizalaye,” she said with an impish grin.  “I’m a fanfic author.  Thank you very much for your help with my latest story.”

Eight jaws dropped.

“An author?”

“How-“

“But-“

“Why-“

It was too late for questions, however.  Mizalaye tapped the air once more, and a pulsing white light filled all eight minds.

When their eyes cleared, they were home.

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Gandalf shook his head quickly, attempting to regain his senses.  “No human girl-child should possess that much power,” he muttered savagely.  “Not even an author.  No respect…”

His only reply was a questioning snort.

To his surprise, the wizard found himself exactly where he had been – astride Shadowfax on the plains of Rohan.

“At least she had the courtesy to return me to the correct place,” Gandalf muttered as he patted the horse’s neck.  “Come now, Shadowfax.  Too much time has already been wasted on this foolishness.”

By his sudden burst of speed, Shadowfax heartily agreed.

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“Cursed girl!” Gimli sputtered as he blinked, trying to clear the afterimage from his vision.

“Sir?”

“Nothing, lad!” Gimli barked at the younger dwarf who had obviously thought he was being spoken to.

The young dwarf scurried off, leaving Gimli alone in the tunnel.

Dropping one hand, the dwarf found his axe right where he had left it – hanging by his side.  “It didn’t happen, then.”  Gimli took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves.  “I have been with that dratted elf for too long,” he muttered.  “I’m beginning to dream in the daytime.  Girl authors and questions…”

Then, the dwarf’s eyes fell on his hands.  His ink-stained hands.

“Curses!”

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As the light faded, an odd sensation enveloped Legolas, and it took his mind a moment to place it.

He was falling.

Starting, the elf twisted his body sideways and snagged a branch with one hand, bringing his downward plunge to a rather abrupt halt about ten feet from the forest floor.  For a moment, he simply hung there, blinking the last of the pulsing light from his elven eyes.

As he swung himself back atop the branch, he scanned the forest, praying nobody had seen his rather ungraceful maneuver.  Fortunately for the elf prince’s pride, no other being occupied this area of the woods.

A thought slipped into Legolas’ mind, and he reached up to where his knives were usually sheathed.  To his pleasant surprise, he found both blades still there.

That was decidedly one of the oddest experiences in all my centuries of life, the elf mused.  I do not think anyone has ever disarmed me so easily.  I wonder how she accomplished it?  With a shrug, Legolas shoved the thought into the back of his mind to be mulled over later.  Now, he had much more important tasks, such as regaining his former perch at the top of the tree.

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Aragorn rubbed his eyes, attempting to clear them.  When he opened them again, they focused on a piece of parchment on the writing desk in front of him and the pen in his hand.

“I’m still here?” the King of Gondor whispered incredulously.

“Still where, my lord?”

Aragorn whipped around in his seat to see who spoke.  All tension drained from him as his eyes fell on his beautiful wife.  “Nothing, Arwen,” he replied, praying his voice sounded calm to her sharp hearing.  “How long have I been working?”

“Only half an hour,” Arwen replied, a question in her rich blue eyes.

Aragorn nodded, both relief and puzzlement flooding through him.  At least I have not been gone long.  But how could that grey creature play with time so casually?

“Is something the matter?” Arwen asked.

Pushing the matter to the back of his mind, Aragorn smiled.  “No, my lady.  Come, I believe I have written enough for one night.”  And far more than I intended…

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Silence wrapped itself around Pippin as his senses returned to him.  When the hobbit’s eyes focused again, he found himself back in the woods near his home, sprawled beneath a tree.

“I could almost think I dozed off and dreamed the whole thing,” Pippin said aloud, “if it weren’t for the fact that my poor hand feels as if it should fall off from writing so much.”

“Still,” the hobbit mused, still aloud, “all in all, it wasn’t such a bad way to spend an evening.  I should rather enjoy doing it again sometime, though I should to know about it ahead of time.  Being hobbit-napped was not the most pleasant way to go about it.”

Deciding that the matter deserved more thought, but not until later, Pippin decided to commemorate his odd adventure as only a hobbit could.  He decided to go scrounge something to eat.

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The light refused to fade from Merry’s eyes.  The hobbit blinked as fast as he could, but the light just turned yellow and stopped pulsing – it didn’t go away.

Then Merry realized he was staring quite intently into his fireplace.  He laughed heartily at himself, then settled back into his chair.  “Well, after all, nobody ever told me I’d stop having adventures after I settled down,” he told himself.

Deciding that his adventures were over, at least for the night, Merry began looking about him for his pipe.  “I was sure I was smoking when I left…”

Only then did a painful burning sensation start in his backside.

With a yelp, the hobbit sprang from his seat.  Turning a nasty glare on his favorite chair, he saw exactly what he should have expected – his still-smoldering pipe.

“I’m glad Pip isn’t here,” Merry said as he inspected the pipe for cracks.  “I should never live down sitting on me own lit pipe!”

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The smell of mushrooms lured Sam back from the pulsing light that enveloped him.  When he finally rubbed his eyes clear again, he saw that he had landed in the exact place he left from – sitting in his garden beside a half-picked basket of mushrooms.

I do hope everyone got back safely, Sam thought.  I don’t think I trust that girl in grey too much.  I hope Frodo didn’t push himself too hard…  With that thought in mind, Sam hopped to his feet and hurried toward the house.  He only went a few steps before remembering his former task.

As he retrieved his basket, a simple smile lit his face. 

At least Rosie’ll be getting her mushrooms after all!

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Frodo looked around his simple little room in Bag End.  Outside, he could hear Sam scurrying toward the door, probably coming to see him.

As he waited for his dearest friend, a smile touched the corners of Frodo’s mouth.  It wasn’t quite what I’d expected, but my wish did come true, I suppose.  It was good to see Strider and Legolas and Gimli and Gandalf again, even if it was under strange circumstances.

“Yes,” he said aloud, “I do think that was a worthwhile way to spend an evening, all things considered.”  Then, he smiled wider.  “And I didn’t even have to travel.”

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In a room far away from the eight remaining members of the Fellowship of the Ring, Mizalaye looked down at the sheets of parchment in her hand, a grin permanently fixed on her face.  She’d done it!  She had actually gotten the Fellowship members to fill out email surveys!  Still grinning like mad, Mizalaye took off her grey cloak and hung it up neatly – almost reverently -  in her closet.  Then, with an excited bounce, she plopped down in front of her computer and began to type.  This was going to be the most fun fanfic she’d ever written!

 

 

The author would like to thank Laura and Annungwathiel from fanfiction.net for suggesting additional questions for the surveys.

 

 

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