52: A Minor Upset

Sunday morning, while the Elves were finishing breakfast and finalizing plans for their upcoming trip to Wild Lake, a knock came on the front door and when Gilvegil went to answer it he found Alex and Derek standing there grinning. Before he could even give them a greeting, though in truth, he was not very happy to see them and knew that the others would not be as well, Alex blurted out, "Wild Lake on Wednesday."

Gilvegil blinked, then sighed. "Come in, then." He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let the two Mortals in, then, after shutting the door while they hung up their coats, led them down the hall to the kitchen. As they entered, everyone looked up and Alex watched with faint amusement as their expressions all became unreadable and he shook his head.

"My, my. Your welcome is so... underwhelming. If I were the suspicious sort, I would think you weren’t glad to see us."

"Why are you here?" Glorfindel asked and both Mortals raised eyebrows at the tone and the unspoken other half of the question: and why are you bothering us?

"C’mon, Derek," Alex said, giving the Elves a sneer. "We’re obviously wasting our time with these... high and mighty beings." Then he gave them a mocking bow. "Forgive us for having had the audacity to breathe in your presence. We won’t bother you again... ever."

He and Derek were half-way down the hall when they felt more than heard someone come up behind them. They stopped and turned around to see Vorondur there. The Elf’s expression was unreadable to them, but there was a fire in his eyes that spoke of anger barely suppressed and the two Mortals instinctively fell back a step or two, both of them taking defensive stances, their own expressions wary. Vorondur stopped and his expression mutated to one of regret.

"We said we wouldn’t bother you again," Alex exclaimed angrily. "Are you here to make sure we don’t lift the silver on our way out?"

"No, it’s not that," the Elf said quietly, extending his hand. "Please, come back and let’s talk."

"There’s nothing to talk about," Alex retorted, nearly shouting in his anger. "It’s very clear to us that you don’t want us around, that you see us as nuisances, as children underfoot. I don’t need to be condescended to by the likes of you. I can’t speak for Derek, but as for myself, I’m out of here. I’m packing my bags and heading home and you can all drop dead for all I care!"

He started to turn but a shimmer of light blocked his way and then there was the smell of rosemary and something else that he couldn’t identify and standing before him was someone he did not know though he realized it must be a Maia. Both Alex and Derek gasped and something very like terror swept through Alex’s soul at the utter beauty of the being before him, a beauty that made the Elves seem plain and ordinary in comparison.

"Fear not, Children," the Maia said, giving them a gentle smile, and his voice was like the sound of merry bells ringing through eternity. "I am Olórin of the People of Manwë."

"My lord, greetings," Vorondur said formally, giving the Maia a respectful bow.

Alex and Derek could only stare, their mouths hanging open. Alex recovered from the shock a bit sooner than Derek, having already met Fionwë, but Derek looked as if he was about to collapse as he hugged the wall, his breathing fast and shallow. Vorondur was by his side in a flash, turning him so he was forced to look at the Elf. Alex heard soft words being spoken but did not understand them and paid little attention to what Vorondur was doing, his eyes fixed on the Maia who stood there as calm as a summer’s day. There was nothing threatening about him, but Alex couldn’t help wishing he had some sort of weapon in his hands. Then, Olórin smiled at him, as if he knew what Alex was thinking, and the smile was one of gentle amusement and his eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mischief that reassured Alex as nothing else could and the Mortal felt himself relaxing.

Derek, meanwhile, had recovered enough from his shock so that Vorondur released him, giving him a comforting pat on his shoulder before turning to the Maia. "I take it this is not a social call, my lord?"

Olórin laughed and it was so full of gaiety that it made them all smile in spite of themselves. "Hardly. I’m here to make sure you Children don’t make a grave mistake. Now, why don’t we join everyone in the kitchen?"

"I’m surprised they’re not all out here," Vorondur said. "Between Alex’s yelling and all...."

"The reason for that will become clear enough," the Maia said, making a shooing motion with his hands, forcing them back down the hall. And when they came into the kitchen, they saw just what Olórin meant: the Elves were not alone.

The two Mortals had the dubious pleasure of seeing the Elves looking very humble and contrite as they faced someone standing in the middle of the room, and Alex had the sense that somehow the room had expanded to allow this person to stand there, for he was too tall for the space which he occupied. He was dressed in chainmail that glittered with a silvery sheen under a blue knee-length surcoat and a white cloak trimmed with white fur. The long white hair was braided with diamonds and sapphires and on his head he wore a silvery-looking diadem with a heart-shaped apple-green gem in the center. From a belt of richly tooled leather hung a scabbard with a sword that was easily as long as Alex was tall. 

The being turned as they entered, his silver-grey eyes glowing with a preternatural light. "Ah, good, we’re all here," he said. "Thank you, Olórin. Please see that we are not disturbed."

Olórin bowed. "It will be as you say, Eönwë," he said and faded from their sight.

Eönwë gestured to Alex and Derek. "Come, we’re all friends here. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Eönwë of the People of Manwë. Vorondur, perhaps you would be so kind as to get our young friends here some coffee. Barahir, let’s bring some chairs in from the dining room so everyone can sit."

Before Alex and Derek knew it, they were seated with mugs of coffee in their hands while the Elves sat around them, all of them facing the Maia as if they were students sitting before a teacher. Eönwë gazed upon them with compassion and an understanding that went deeper than any of them could truly comprehend. Before he could speak, though, Derek gave him a shrewd look.

"Are ... are you the help that is coming?" he asked.

Eönwë gave him a slight smile. "No, Child. I am not. That help is still on its way. I’m here to make sure none of you Children... what’s the expression? Ah, yes. I’m here to make sure none of you screw up."

Several eyebrows rose. The Maia’s smile broadened, but Alex detected a glimmer of steel behind it and shivered involuntarily. Eönwë’s gaze fell on him. "There is nothing to fear, Child. As I said, we’re all friends here, or at least, we’re supposed to be. I’m afraid you Eldar have been so used to not allowing any of the Secondborn into your lives that you’ve forgotten what it means for them to be there. The time for going it alone, for shutting them out, is past. Daeron guessed rightly that it was no accident that of all the Mortals whom you know, these two were the ones who were with you when you found the message and saw what you saw."

"So what?" Alex demanded. "I told Ron I don’t need to be condescended to by anyone, least of all by this lot. And I certainly don’t appreciate you showing up and treating us like naughty children, telling us to play nicely or not at all." He ignored the gasps of dismay from the Elves as he focused on the Maia. "I meant what I said: Derek can do whatever he pleases, but I wash my hands of the lot of you. I’m leaving just as soon as I can pack my bags."

"That is, of course, your choice," Eönwë said gravely.

"And you’ll let us go, just like that?" Alex asked, giving him a disbelieving look.

"We cannot force you to stay, Artemus," the Maia replied. "You are free to leave at any time, you and Derek, both. No one will stop you."

"Your real name is Artemus?" Derek asked.

"Not now, Derek," Alex said through gritted teeth.

"You’ve been very quiet through all this, Derek," Eönwë said, giving the young Man a smile when the Mortal jerked slightly at the sound of his name. "Does Artemus speak for you as well?"

Derek frowned and shook his head. "No, not really. Oh, I’m as angry as he is about the way we’ve been given the brush-off when all we want to do is help, but, frankly, there’s nowhere else for me to go."

"You can always come home with me," Alex said softly.

"You mean join your Agency?" Derek shot back.

"No. I mean home to New Hampshire so you can meet my mom. I’ve already decided I’m resigning from the Agency."

"What about your assignment, though?" Derek countered.

"Amroth says he can supply me with all the necessary evidence to prove that the person the Agency knew as Ambrose Elwood is not the same as the person known as Ryan McKinley, and I can make it stick."

"And Farrell? What about him?"

"I should be able to discredit Farrell easily enough," Alex replied. "The point is, I’m through with it all and with Elf Academy. I’m tired of the Game and the games. I just want to be Alex and not Artemus. I just want a normal life."

"Good luck with that one," Derek said with a snort.

Alex hunched his shoulders, unconsciously pulling his hat down and did not see the sympathetic looks of the Elves or the Maia who then spoke to one of the Elves. "And have you nothing to say to this, Glorfindel?"

Alex turned to where Glorfindel was seated at the breakfast nook. The Elf sighed and stood, weaving his way around the others to stand before the two Mortals. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I’m afraid I...." He shook his head and sighed again. "Lord Eönwë is correct; you are both free to leave and no one will stop you." His entire stance was one of dejection.

Alex glanced at Derek who gave him a shrug. "It’s not that I want to leave," Alex said slowly, "it’s just that I resent being treated as if I were five. I may not be as ancient as you but I’m not a baby and neither is Derek."

"No, you are not," Eönwë said, speaking before Glorfindel could muster a reply. "You are all so very precious in ways you can never comprehend and each of you has gifts the others do not. Separately, you can do nothing, but together... well, I will leave it to you to decide on that." With that, he simply faded away, leaving behind the mingled scents of lavender and lovage.

For a long, tense moment, no one moved and the silence was thick on the ground. Finally, Glorfindel stirred, giving the two Mortals a puzzled look. "Gil told us you knew about Wild Lake. How....?"

"Hello! Internet?" Alex exclaimed, giving the Elf a disgusted look. "What century do you come from?"

At that, the tension broke and several of the Elves laughed. "Believe me, son, you don’t want to know," Amroth said and when Alex turned to look at him he winked.

When the laughter died down, Glorfindel gave Alex and Derek a more rueful look. "Perhaps we should forget this past hour ever happened and start over," he suggested, "that is, if you’re willing."

Now the Elves went still again, waiting for the Mortals’ answer. Alex and Derek stared at one another. Derek shrugged. "I’m game, but I’d hate to be the lone Mortal in a sea of Elves."

"There’s Zach," Alex said.

"But he didn’t see the magic pumpkins, Charlie Brown," Derek retorted with a grin.

"It’s the Great Pumpkin, you dolt," Alex shot back. He looked up at Glorfindel, who was still standing there, giving the Elf a quizzical look. "Does it make a difference that Derek and I saw the message but Zach didn’t?"

"Daeron thought it was significant and no coincidence that only you two, who don’t even know Quenya, could see the tengwar script carved on the pumpkins, while people like Zach, Shane and Jud, who are quite conversant with the language, never saw them. As much as I would like to deny it, he’s right, and I learned long ago that there’s no such thing as coincidence in this universe. If you were meant to see those pumpkins as we saw them, then there is a reason for it."

"Do you think if we went back they’ll still be there?" Derek asked.

"Doubtful," Daeron said.

"Zach told Alex and me that when he saw the flyer for the enchanted pumpkins event, his first thought was of you, Loren," Vorondur said. "I suspect someone inspired him to bring the flyer to us."

"So were there really pumpkins carved in Quenya, or are we all victims of a mass hallucination?" Elrohir asked.

"Does it matter?" Glorfindel retorted. "The Valar are quite capable of manipulating reality to suit themselves. That others never noticed the Quenya means that most likely they saw what really was there while we were given a collective vision."

"I wonder why they sent the message that way, though, instead of just having one of the Maiar do it?" Alphwen said.

"Well, that would be boring, wouldn’t it?" Alex said with a sly grin and the others all laughed in agreement.

"So, what do you want to do?" Glorfindel asked Alex, getting back to the original subject.

Alex sighed. "I honestly don’t know anymore. So much has happened to me, so much that is just plain weird. I don’t know if I’m coming or going."

Vorondur leaned over from where he was seated next to Alex, patting him on the arm. "All that has happened to you has been on purpose."

"What do you mean?" Alex demanded.

"I mean, you’ve been broken down and reshaped. You’ve gone from Artemus to Alex. Nothing that has happened to you has been by chance."

"You mean I was meant to almost get myself killed last week?" Alex asked.

"No. I mean, the events that have occurred have slowly destroyed your worldview and everything you knew and believed about yourself. You, more than any other Mortal here, has had to be... reforged, I think would be the best way to describe it. The Artemus part of you, the part you equate with being bad, was a large part of your psyche, but I told you that it was a necessary and vital part that cannot be safely ignored or dismissed. At the same time, the Alex part of you, the part that yearns for a normal life away from the Game and the games, as you put it, is breaking out. In some ways, Artemus had to die before Alex could be born."

"Like drowning in the tarn," Alex said, looking thoughtful.

"But only that part of you that needs to die," Vorondur said. "The part that is skeptical, suspicious and unwilling to see the universe as full of wonder and what is erroneously called magic. The skills and knowledge that Artemus brings are important, not only for you, but for us as well. The two personae need to be integrated if you are to be whole, but as anyone here will tell you, forging steel is a long, drawn-out process and the metal that is so forged undergoes a great deal of painful transformation. And that is as true for any of us as it is for a sword-in-the-making."

"Do you really want to go back to what you were, gwador?" Derek asked softly.

Alex stared at him and slowly shook his head. "No. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to."

"Then, for the foreseeable future," Glorfindel said, "perhaps you could just continue as you have. Get to know ‘Alex’ more. Who is he, anyway?"

"Just a name," Alex answered. "The persona behind it was a sociopath with a penchant for blowing things up." He gave them a grimace. "Except for the blowing things up part, I really didn’t like him all that much."

There were chuckles all around.

"So why did you choose the name?" Derek asked.

Alex shrugged. "I created the persona and the name after Ambrose… er… died, so I knew he wouldn’t recognize it as belonging to me."

"Well, the question still remains: what do you want to do? What do you both want to do?" Glorfindel asked.

"I’d like to see this through," Derek said. "I’m actually looking forward to being an Elf Guide. What happens after that…." He shrugged.

"And you, Alex? What do you want to do?" Vorondur asked.

For a moment, Alex didn’t answer, staring at the floor, a slight frown on his face as if he were in deep thought. Finally, he looked up at Vorondur. "Can you help me to… to integrate Artemus and Alex?"

"I can try, but most of the work has to come from you," Vorondur replied. "If you’re willing to do what needs to be done, I’m willing to help in any way I can. We all are." The other Elves nodded.

Alex licked his lips. "Then, I’m willing to stick around… for a little while longer. I don’t know if I actually want to be a Christmas Elf but I’ll stay long enough to deal with Farrell and the Agency so you’re left alone in the future. After that, we’ll have to see."

"Then, let us just take it one step at a time," Glorfindel said. "So are you two up for a camping trip?"

"You mean to Wild Lake?" Derek asked.

Glorfindel nodded. "We were finalizing our plans when everything went pear-shape between us," he replied with a wry smile.

"We don’t have much in the way of camping gear except sleeping bags," Alex pointed out.

"We’ll supply whatever you don’t have," Glorfindel said. "We plan to leave tomorrow night around six. We may only be there for a day or so, certainly no later than Wednesday night. The message is just vague enough that we’re not entirely sure which day is meant."

"Gee, that means we’ll miss Halloween," Derek said with a sigh. "And I was looking forward to dressing up and going trick-or-treating."

"Aren’t you a bit old for that?" Alex asked with a laugh.

Derek gave him a haughty look. "Speak for yourself, mate. As far as I’m concerned, you’re never too old to go begging for candy."

"And what were you planning to go as?" Vorondur asked with an amused look on his face.

"Well, actually, I was thinking of going as Popeye," Derek said.

"Nah…" Alex retorted, giving him a shake of the head. "You’re too tall. You should go as Olive Oyl instead."

There were chuckles from the Elves. Derek gave Alex a sly smile. "Well only if you dress up as Swee’Pee."

"No way!" Alex protested. "You’re never going to catch me wearing that stupid nightgown. Maybe I’ll come as Bluto."

Derek gave him a surprised look. "You want to come as a dog?"

"Bluto, not Pluto, you dimwit. You know, Popeye’s nemesis."

"Why don’t you just go as Elves?" Elrohir suggested before Derek could retort. "We’ll even supply the ears."

Alex and Derek looked at each other and nodded, then Alex gave Glorfindel a winning smile. "Can we carry swords?"

"NO!" came the reply from more than one throat.

"Jeesh! I was just asking. Anyway, whoever heard of a bald Elf?"

"Well as amusing as this discussion has been, we need to finish finalizing our plans," Glorfindel said. "So, Derek, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until next year to go trick-or-treating."

"I guess," Derek said with a sigh that was clearly feigned. Then he perked up as a thought crossed his mind, "Hey! Do you think whoever’s coming will bring candy?"

Alex groaned and rolled his eyes, punching him on the arm. Derek stuck his tongue out at him, while the Elves just shook their heads at their antics as they began working out the logistics of camping at Wild Lake.