I really don't remember what inspired me to come up with this very, very odd idea for a plot. Anyway, not having found anything along these lines so far, I decided to give it a try. I would appreciate any kind of feedback, so please let me know what you think.
A thousand thanks to Lady Demiya for editing. (in record time I might add)
In this tale we shall encounter Hobbits, Dwarves, Men and Elves, (Not in order of appearance) as well as Orcs, Trolls and a variety of other creatures, but also loads of OCs, so consider this your Warning. ;-)
Disclaimer: Everything is property of JRRT, bar ill-fated Anne. (Oh and Rhyswenlia - but you can have her, really…)
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Anne looked up from the monitor for the third time in what seemed like less than half an hour. Again, she thought she had heard something outside; frowning and screwing up her eyes she tried to peer through the glass of the large window next to the dining table. However, the garden was pitch-black, and all she could see was her own reflection and those of the numerous lamps she had lit inside the living room.
Of course she was being silly; nothing was out there, except the neighbour's cat perhaps. She just was not used to being alone in the big house at night, and well - it was awfully quiet. Her parents had just left for a four-week cruise along the Scandinavian fjords, and since her sister Hannah had finally moved out a couple of months ago, Anne, living relatively close by, had agreed to house-sit. Despite being the older one by three years, Anne feared that Hannah might indeed have been the better choice for the task, and for this exact reason: It was dark; it was too quiet; she was alone – she was getting nervous.
Scolding herself for being such a chicken, she turned away from the dark window and back to her computer and to her reading, hoping to lose herself once more in 'Passionate Encounters'. She was up to chapter thirty-seven, and it seemed like the virgin was about to give up her (rather weak) resistance and finally surrender to her determined beloved.
"Oh, I don't know, Telendir… Maybe this is a great mistake! You are an Elf - tall, strong, beautiful, noble, rich and humorous…whereas I am a mere human! And though I might seem like the obvious choice to espouse - due to my powers, given by the Valar themselves – Alas, the fact remains, that I am mortal and you are not!"
"Do not despair, Rhyswenlia, my love! And, stop making up excuses, we have been through this before. Have you forgotten that Arwen promised to present you, with half of her remaining lifespan, to thank you for saving Aragorn's life with your powers? Now, please hold still, I am trying to open these clasps…"
"But can I accept such a gift? It is true; she probably doesn't need a long life, with marrying Aragorn and all…"
"There you go. Whatever objections you have, my love - for you I shall conquer them all. Kindly stop fidgeting, will you…"
"Telendir! I have to remain a virgin until I'm eighteen, or the Valar won't remove the curse from me. The one that kills the second born in every household I set foot into! And it is but two more days…"
This time, there was a distinctive scraping noise from outside, somewhere near the window. Once again, Anne tore her gaze away from the screen and tried to make out something in the dark. Nothing, of course there was nothing. They lived on the countryside, the most boring and uneventful small town imaginable; nothing ever happened here. The quietness was playing tricks on her mind that was all. Well, that and the After-effect of reading too much nonsense maybe. There was no sound apart from that of the constantly ticking grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
She returned to the more pressing matters…
… But, her beloved cut her short fiercely. "Nay! I cannot hold back anymore! I know it is wrong, but our love is worth it. And my younger brother, Teleg, he is my archenemy anyway. Usurper of the throne, that he is."
It was then that Teleg burst into their chambers, roaring with fury, for he had been eavesdropping. "You will never prevail over me, Telendir! And, Rhyswenlia I shall claim for myself! ..."
Anne's head shot up. Something had just triggered the motion sensor; its lamp was casting a yellowish light beam over part of the narrow, gravelled path, the house wall and the little garden gate.
All right, this was it. Irrational fear or not.
In one swift motion, Anne was out of her chair and pushed the button for the standby mode on her laptop. After turning out the light, she all but ran to her room, where, crawling into bed and pulling the covers half over her head, she felt slightly foolish – but also a lot safer. Even if it was just a stray cat, (which no doubt it was) she was exhausted; it was late at night and the story had another fourteen chapters. Now that she thought about it, Anne remembered that she had also meant to finish a few other rather epic tales for quite some time, "Fëanor's Concubines" and "Passionate Meetings", the prequel to "Passionate Encounters".
'Well, there's always tomorrow …' was her last coherent thought, before succumbing to tiredness and slowly drifting into dreams, full of a variety of encounters. (Whether they were passionate or not, she would not remember the next day.)
III III III
The vacated living room was dark and quiet. The light of the motion sensor had gone out, the laptop screen was black, and the only sound was the low ticking of the grandfather clock. After a few minutes however, there was something else, almost inaudible. A faint scraping noise, that seemed to be coming from the wooden floor. Suddenly the laptop monitor lit up, emitting a faint bluish light in the otherwise darkened room, and showing once more chapter thirty-seven of "Passionate Encounters".
Another few minutes passed.
And then, at last, a voice started to speak in a low, strangely hollow-sounding whisper .
"Is everyone present?"
Suddenly the seemingly empty room was filled with something like a hissing sort of hum, as if a considerable number of people were trying to make their presence known while keeping there voices as low as possible.
"It would seem so," a second whisperer, who had a slightly whistling quality to their voice, answered the first. "By the way, who's act was that, with the light outside?"
"Ahem …" Though whispering, the third speaker somehow managed to sound slightly sheepish. "That would be me. I mean ... she was rather taking her time, so …"
"Then I expect you were responsible for the scraping noises as well?"
"Yes, what was that about? You don't even possess a bodily form right now."
"Oh, I simply thought it might add a little atmosphere …"
Someone - or something muttered about 'show-offs'. There was the low but distinctive sound of a throat being cleared.
"Let's return to the task at hand, shall we?" a particularly low, hoarse voice interrupted the dispute.
"Yes, yes – certainly. Are there any more thoughts on the matter before we proceed to action?"
"Well, her ... partialities are … interesting," someone murmured.
"That is not what I would call it," came a sharply hissed reply from somewhere near the sofa.
"I suppose, it does have a certain naïve charm …"
"Speak for yourself, I find it rather disturbing."
"Now, disturbing or not," the hollow-sounding first whisperer raised their voice once more. "The decisive factor remains - these ... tales being completely harmless …" Someone gave a little cough at this, but the speaker went on: " ... yes, they are harmless, compared to ... other things. For the effects of that we have all seen. Crucial is that she believes, that she imagines. Also she seems passionate enough."
"Even so, it is not said that sending her over will change anything," the hoarse-sounding whisperer said quietly. Others have crossed before without making a difference."
"True, and indeed I consider it improbable. Nevertheless, this has been discussed and we agreed to make one final attempt. Hereafter we shall leave Middle Earth to its own devices. It is, after all, not our sole responsibility."
A consenting murmur began.
"Any further objections?"
This time, only a long silence ensued.
"Then let us get this over with."
Approximately twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds later, the young woman named Anne, who had been sleeping soundly until that very moment, sat bolt upright without really waking. Eyes wide, staring blindly ahead, she opened her mouth as if trying to scream or perhaps just to draw breath, but seemed capable of neither. The last bit of oxygen left her lungs with a small, mildly surprised sounding "huh".
And with that, a soul disappeared from its designated place in our universe.
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