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Chapter Text

'Who knows the counsels of Morgoth?' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

'Blast!' Andróg brushed away a prickly branch tugging at his knee. 'Neithan, are you sure we are going the right way?' Andróg stopped for a moment to detach an especially tangled blackberry vine from his hair and stumbled after his captain.

Túrin looked forward. 'I think so. Beleg said that it was.' He glanced behind him. 'I do wish you would be more careful and quiet,' he added reproachfully.

Andróg sighed and muttered something less than polite. He was normally a very stealthy, sneaky woodsman, but at the moment he was rather angry with Beleg for deciding to take a nice, little woodsy tramp in the middle of the night. Besides which, he was rather drunk. It was just like Beleg to decide to drag them off through the most unpleasant patch of the forest to Morgoth-knows-where on Yule.

'Hush!' Beleg called back at them, stopping for a moment to give them all a very critical glance before moving on soundlessly and hassle-free through the undergrowth.

'I do not trust him,' Andróg hissed to Túrin. 'He might be leading us to a trap.'

'I second that,' said Mîm.

Andróg looked hard at Mîm, who hated him and never seconded anything he said. The truth was that Mîm had seconded quite a few things that Andróg had said over the course of their acquaintance, but Andróg, like most people who hold grudges, had forgotten to remember the good parts of the relationship, and had instead focused on the bad parts. Considering the relationship in question, focusing on the bad parts was not a hard thing to do.

Mîm ignored the glare and looked up at Túrin. 'We cannot trust him.'

Túrin sighed. 'We can trust him. Beleg taught me everything that I know about the forest and fighting – I am certain he would not wish to waste all that training on a Man who might surpass his skill and fame one day.'

Andróg was unconvinced by Túrin's logic, and a quick glance at Mîm assured him that the Dwarf was as well. He was fairly certain that the Elf would probably want to get rid of Túrin so that he wouldn't surpass his skill and fame one day. But still they trudged on, as Beleg scouted ahead of them, a look of glee at their misery in his bright Elven eyes. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Two hours of walking later (when Andróg's feet were completely frozen from the snow and ice, and his head was throbbing resplendently from the alcohol) they chanced upon a clearing in the dark woods where the moon shone down eerily through the twisted trees on the snow-frosted earth. Shadows lingered there deep and silent, black and grey across the white snow. Beleg came to a halt.

'I sense a great evil here,' he said quietly, stepping gracefully forward, his bow at the ready. His feet left no impression in the snow.

'That is because there is a great evil here,' came a sudden, menacing voice from the edge of the clearing, and into the light of the pale moon stepped a figure cloaked in black. 'And that would be me!' The figure cast off his black hood, and his face shone wickedly in the light of the moon. 'Sauron the Cruel!'

Beleg froze in fear and gasped. He had not been expecting to see one of Morgoth's greatest servants walking so freely in their land, but Andróg leapt forward, sword in hand. He had been expecting a trap and had thus not been caught off guard. There was also the matter of Andróg not really realizing who Sauron was, which is probably why he felt as bold as he did.

'Your evil will do you no good!' he cried. Crossing the clearing in one bound, he pressed the tip of his sword to Sauron's throat. 'We Men are not as stupid as you Elves think.'

Sauron smirked. 'I am not an Elf,' he said, pulling Andróg's sword away before he had a chance to react. He looked down at it with mild curiosity for a moment before snapping it clean in two and throwing the two halves in opposite directions. 'I am a Maia and an evil Maia at that. And I can do this!' He made his fiery eyes flame up brightly as if they would set the whole wood ablaze.

Andróg slunk back, quaking with fear.

Sauron looked quite proud of himself. He gave another little smirk and snapped his fingers. From the dark forest stepped an innumerable host of Orcs – complete with a Balrog. Sauron looked even prouder of himself and wriggled with evil excitement.

'Now,' he said, when he saw that the little party were gathered together, disarmed, surrounded, and with no hope of escape. 'I am so thrilled to be able to deliver this very important message to you.'

'What message?' demanded Túrin, who was struggling valiantly but vainly against the Orcs who held him fast.

'Oh, just a message from Morgoth detailing how your life will be ruined,' Sauron said nonchalantly, blowing on his already dry black nail polish. He turned with a sudden wicked sweep towards Túrin and gave him his most devilish smile. 'Wydjyuask?'

'Because you said it was important,' said Túrin sourly.

'Oh, yes, it is.' Sauron glanced up at the sky. 'I'm truly sorry, but it doesn't look like I'll have time to torture you tonight,' he apologized. 'I do have quite a bit of work to do to get you ready, and my Orcs aren't too fond of daylight and all that.' He shrugged and sighed, giving them a remorseful smile.

'That's quite all right with us, actually,' Beleg assured him.

Sauron raised his eyebrows and drew his fingers thoughtfully across Beleg's face for a moment, ruefully contemplating all the ways he could ruin it. He sighed again but then clapped his hands together and gave them all his best attempt at a sunny smile (which failed quite dreadfully). 'Fine, let's get down to business then. This mainly involves you, Túrin, since you are the main player in Melkor's latest scheme.'

'What scheme would that be?' Túrin asked, narrowing his eyes.

'His I-shall-take-my-revenge-on-my-despised-enemy-Húrin-by-bringing-about-the-deaths-and/or-ruin-of-his-entire-family-one-by-one-or-at-the-same-time-it-doesn't-really-matter-which-but-one-by-one-sounds-more-dramatic-by-using-their-own-faults-against-them-so-that-they-destroy-themselves-hopefully-sneaking-a-good-bit-of-incest-in-there-since-that-always-makes-things-juicy-where-was-I-ah-yes-destroy-themselves-whilst-my-despised-enemy-Húrin-watches-unable-to-help-them-thus-making-his-life-a-real-nightmare-their-lives-a-real-horror-my-own-life-one-big-happy-picnic-and-creating-an-epic-tragedy-all-at-the-same-time-aren't-I-a-genius? scheme,' Sauron said in one breath.

'Oh,' said Túrin.

'Yes, unfortunately, the immeasurable patience of Melkor has began to run dry (mainly due to some silly incident involving that whatdyucallim…Turgon! chap), so he has decided to speed things up a bit.'

'How?' asked Túrin nervously.

Sauron just grinned diabolically and pulled out a strange cardboard box. 'You'll see.'

Chapter Text

'The Master of Doom is gone to challenge his doom far hence…' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Unfinished Tales

Sauron snickered as he strolled down the road with the large box tucked safely under his arm. He took extra care to walk unevenly, jolting and shaking the box as much as he possibly could.

Melkor always has the greatest ideas, he mused to himself, falling back into his normal admiration of the dark lord. Imagine having to spend the rest of your life as a plush toy – aware of all that happens to you, but unable to do anything about it.

Really, it was brilliant.

And he had the privilege of finding them the perfect home – preferably somewhere with cute, slobbering, hyperactive babies and big, slobbering hyperactive dogs.
He chuckled evilly and tossed the box to his other arm. Hard. If the plush toys inside that had once been Túrin, Beleg, Andróg, and Mîm could have groaned, they would have. Sauron was sure of it.

This thought lifted his iniquitous spirits a great deal, and he picked up his pace, skipping with wicked satisfaction down the street. The box bounced deliciously with each skip.

In the midst of this perverse pleasure, Sauron's cell phone rang. He dropped the box carelessly onto the road and flipped the phone open, pressing the answer button with a graceful finger.

'Hello,' he said in the calm, cool voice of a sly, seductive, sadistic Maia who had not been skipping only a moment ago.

'Sauron, what is taking you so long, you idiot?' It was Gothmog.

Sauron rolled his eyes in indignation and straightened his shoulders. 'Do I have to remind you of whom you are speaking to?' Sauron said with great composure and a delicate sniff. 'You weird, little, freaky-fire Bal—'

'I know who I'm speaking to, you push-over, snivelling, slimy sl—'

'Then speak to me with more respect next time,' Sauron snapped, holding his head high.

Gothmog started to snarl angrily over the phone, but Sauron didn't flinch. 'You're wasting time.' He yawned. 'Do you have anything of importance to say, or should I just hang-up?'

There was a slight growl. 'Melkor says that he wants you back at headquarters within the hour.'

Sauron stiffened. 'Does Melkor fail to reali…'

'Do not question Melkor, largest and greatest and mightiest and most powerful of all beings!' Gothmog roared, sounding a great deal like a furious, rampant, uncontrollable, raging forest fire.

Sauron sighed, considering whether or not to tell the Balrog that he was being redundant. Deciding against it, he lifted the phone again to his ear. 'Is there a problem at HQ?' he asked delicately.

'Of course there is a problem, you stupid imp!'

'And what, may I ask, is it?'

'Some rebellious Noldorin thrall painted the front gates baby blue!'

'That does sound like a problem,' Sauron murmured. 'Tell Melkor I'll be back just as soon as I drop this box off somewhere…safe.' He snapped the phone shut on the beginnings of Gothmog's undoubtedly rude answer and tucked it, with a sigh, into the pocket of his tight black leather pants.

He straightened his shirt out and tossed his head, trying to ignore his disappointment. If he had to be back in an hour, there was not much time left to find the perfect house of complete misery. He turned, frustrated, and gave the box an angry kick. He watched it scuttle miserably across the street with a grimly satisfied smile.

Knowing other beings were miserable always made him smile.

The box bounced helplessly and tipped over into a wet, tangled ditch. Typical. Sauron marched indignantly after it when he heard something that made him stop in his depraved tracks.

It sounded like a large, slobbering, hyperactive dog. He stepped closer and listened harder. No, he had been wrong. It was not a large, slobbering, hyperactive dog. It was a playful, spoiled, hyperactive dog.

The bane of plush toys.

He felt a particularly sinister smile cross his face and rubbed his hands together excitedly.

Yes, he thought. This would do quite nicely.

'Excuse me, miss,' said Sauron, putting on his best subservient voice – the one he had worked to perfection trying to get out of the games of Twister® (another invention that someone from 'the future' had plagiarized) Melkor made him play with Gothmog when he was bored.

The girl, who had been staring rather uselessly at a tree, turned to him suddenly and stared at him.

Sauron indignantly straightened out his blue uniform with shiny gold buttons, adjusted his blue cap with the shiny black rim, tugged lightly on his spotless white gloves, stamped his shiny patent leather shoes, and pulled out a large box from the blue bag he wore over his shoulder. 'I have a delivery for you.'

She stared harder.

Stupid girl, thought Sauron. Hasn't she ever seen a postman before?

Evidently she had not, because she didn't answer him. She just folded her arms and stared at him as if by doing so she could make him go away.

Sauron decided that she must be defective.

'A delivery,' he repeated.

She still said nothing. 

'I. Have. A. Delivery. For. You,' he said very slowly, very clearly, and very loudly.

The only reply he got was the fierce barking of the playful, spoiled, hyperactive dog he had heard earlier, only less playful. It was standing on the driveway with its fur raised and its teeth bared. It didn't bite him.

Stupid dog, thought Sauron. Hasn't it ever seen a postman before?

He glanced at his watch and then looked down at the box he was holding and then at the two stupid creatures staring at him on the driveway. He hated standstills. They were terribly bad for the digestion.

'Just take the stupid box,' he grumbled, shoving it in the stupid girl's arms. He marched back up the stupid driveway, past the stupid mailbox, and on down the stupid road, not even stopping when the stupid cat in the stupid tree swatted off his stupid hat.

He was already late.

Chapter Text

And tales of Túrin were told in his halls,' - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lays of Beleriand

Doggie's Favourite Dog Toys - 1010 Melcot Drive, Anban, Pennsylvania - 19723

Narn ran her finger over the return address. For some reason, the names seemed remotely familiar. Wondering if it were a legitimate address, she regretted briefly having never memorized all the nation's zip codes. But she had not. Before this it had not seemed necessary. After all, it was not every day that a strange package addressed to her was delivered by an exceptionally tall man dressed like a postal worker from some gilded music video. Come to think of it, that never happened. It was all rather suspicious.

Taking a step back, she surveyed the box sitting so innocently on the kitchen table. Doggie's Favourite Dog Toys. That was strange too. Narn and her family never ordered dog toys; they usually just picked up old toys from the recycling centre. Ordering dog toys seemed absurd and extravagant. Narn folded her arms stubbornly.

Unless it wasn't dog toys.

She narrowed her eyes at the box. It might be a trick. It might a trap. It might be something dreadful.

Her eyes widened as she thought of the worst possibilities. A bomb? A severed head? Toxic poisons? The complete Waltons collection?

Her curiosity was draining her: her hands were beginning to tingle, and her head was beginning to ache. She grabbed a knife from the utensils drawer and positioned the tip of the knife against the tape.

Where does the word 'knife' come from? She mused as she slid the blade across the top of the box, cutting through the tape.

Hesitating momentarily, she looked over at the red Webster's New College Dictionary her sister and she had slowly torn to pieces in their search for word meanings and then down at the box again; the flaps were beginning to lift already. Forgetting its etymology, Narn placed the knife down on the table and pulled the box open, half-closing her eyes in anticipation of an unspeakable horror.

A head.

She jumped away from the box, slipping in her stocking feet on the new kitchen tiles. Catching herself on the counter, she stopped, thinking. A snapshot of what she had just seen flashed through her mind. Cloth eyes, cloth face, cloth hair. Which meant, no blood, no gore, no death. She stepped back to the box and peered carefully inside.

Four little people plush toys were curled up tightly together, shoved without mercy into the depths of their cardboard prison. Scolding herself for being so overly dramatic, she carefully lifted one up.

It was about two feet tall and had shaggy black hair, black clothes, and a black sword. It was smiling at her.

Narn nearly dropped it. Who on earth would give their dog toys that look like people she wondered as she lifted the next one out.

This one was a bit smaller with brown hair; it was dressed in various shades of brown and green. It also had an extraordinarily big smile stitched across its face. How odd.

The third was only about a foot high with a strange beard dangling down past its knees and a pack sown tightly to its back. The smile on its face looked completely mix-matched with its narrowed eyebrows. Narn put it down hastily and lifted out the one that had been left on the bottom.

This one had pointed ears, strange silvery-brown hair, and a bow clasped tight in its hand. Narn pulled on the bow; it would not come off. She placed it down near the one with the exceptionally long beard and took a step back, surveying the strange collection.

They just lay there, smiling at her. It was quite unnerving.

'Where are those from, Narn?'

Narn turned. Her sister, Galad, had come into the kitchen. She looked down at the toys in puzzlement.

'They came in the mail,' Narn said. 'I think.'

Galad picked up the one dressed in black. 'What are they?'

'The box said they were dog toys.' Narn lifted it up and looked at the strange address again. 'They're from…Melcot...drive in…Anban…Pennsylvania.' She put the box down and lowered her voice. 'Or so it says.'

'Dog toys?' Galad squeezed the body of the toy she was holding.

'How shall an Elf judge of Men?' it squeaked.

'It's Túrin,' Narn whispered. Quickly she picked up the one with the bow, giving its body a squish. 'If I stayed beside you, love would lead me, not wisdom.'

Her eyes widened. 'It's Beleg. The Dwarf must be Mîm.'

A squeeze proved her right. 'Learn this, fools! Do not put bonds on a Dwarf!'

The two sisters exchanged worried glances, and then Galad squeezed the last one. 'See! There is blood on the hill-top,' it rumbled.

'Andróg,' she said.

Narn nodded and looked again into the box. A paper was lying there, folded up. She picked it up and unfolded it.

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of The Children of Húrin Plush Toy Collection. This set was made with the carefulest detail for plush toy authenticity. Each toy speaks five phrases and has authentic weapons and clothes. Perfect for the avid Silmarillion collector – this set will leave you smiling.

Narn raised her eyebrows. There was also an addition added with pencil in a fluid script on the bottom.

Also perfect for dogs and small children. Come now, Melkor, collectors don't hurt their collections!

Narn handed the note to Galad. 'What do you think it means?'

Galad looked it over. 'I have no idea.'

Narn nodded and picked Beleg up again. 'Isn't he cute?' she asked, cradling him in her arms.

Their Border collie whimpered. Narn looked down at her. 'No, Laurel, this toy is not for you,' she said. 'He's ours.' She bent down and kissed the top of plush toy Beleg's head.

Laurel sighed and looked sulky. 'Go get your own toy,' Narn said, 'Where is your—' But she was cut off as the toy in her arms stirred. 'Galad,' she said slowly. But she did not need her sister to confirm it. The toy moved again. It was growing.

Narn dropped it. It fell limply onto its head on the orangey-blue floor, growing larger every moment. Narn grabbed Galad and dragged her away from it, her mind flashing with ideas. A word trickled the back of her thoughts. Magic.

'Aahh,' the toy – the Elf – groaned. For an Elf it now was. He lay on the tiles, curled up upon himself, his hands clutching his head. 'Ai,' he moaned.

Without really thinking, Narn dropped to her knees beside him and placed her hand on his head, brushing his hair back. There was a red mark where she had dropped – the toy.

'Are you all right?' Narn asked as his bright eyes fixed on her. 'You aren't hurt too badly, are you?' She touched the mark again. 'I could get you some ice.'

Ignoring her questions, Beleg sat up quickly, glancing about the room. 'And so it worked,' he whispered. 'I did not think that it would happen so quickly.' He twisted lithely to his feet and gingerly lifted the Túrin toy off the table. 'How cruel can the devices of Morgoth be?' He pressed his lips to the toy's forehead and then set it on the floor and took a step back, waiting.

Nothing happened.

'I beg your pardon?' Narn said.

He turned to her. 'We are here because of Morgoth – the dark enemy of the world.' He pointed down at the plush toy. 'Behold Túrin, son of Húrin, foe of Morgoth and brother of my heart!'

It smiled blankly up at them.

'Morgoth cast a spell upon us, turning us into these…' Beleg looked with distaste at Mîm and Andróg, '…children's toys. We can see and feel and hear all that happens to us when we are in such state, so that our suffering may be great. Only a kiss can free us.' He knelt down and kissed the Túrin toy again. He frowned. 'But it does not seem to be working.' He kissed the toy all over its face, but nothing happened. Looking crushed, Beleg rose to his feet. He turned to the sisters, his eyes glinting. 'You broke my spell,' he said to Narn. 'You should try.'

Feeling very awkward, Narn bent down and kissed the Túrin toy, jumping back quickly as it started to shoot up. It was hard to tell at what point toy became man, but in a matter of moments, Túrin Turambar was bumping his head against the kitchen ceiling.

'Argh!' he groaned, rubbing his head.

'I'm sorry,' Narn said, stepping closer to Galad and taking her arm. For an odd reason, she was feeling dreadfully responsible for the entire predicament.

'It is quite all right,' Túrin said, as he looked them both over. 'We seem to be indebted to you for freeing us from that cruel spell. Pray tell me, how did you know how to reverse it?'

'Um… well,' Narn said. 'It was rather…'

'I believe it was a fortunate accident,' said Beleg. 'Is that not right?' His eyes seemed to blaze through her.

'Yeah.' Narn nodded. 'An accident.'

'Sauron then was not successful in his choice,' Túrin said, running his hand over the hilt of his black sword. 'For he sought to seek a household where we would be ruined, suffering in unremorseful torment.'

'That was his design, but good fortune has denied it.' Beleg looked down at Túrin's hand. 'Túrin,' he said softly. 'Why do you wear my sword?'

'I know not, my troth-brother,' Túrin said. 'For when I was awoken it was on me. Here, take it back and know still that I need you beside me.' He undid the sword from his belt and fastened it about Beleg's waist. 'For, Beleg, I would have you with me in all things.'

Narn wondered if that included being turned into a plush toy. She figured that it did.

'Nay, you should wear it,' said Beleg to Túrin. 'For you are the captain.' He refastened the belt around Turin's waist. 'And I would have you lead us still.'

'Thank-you.' Túrin placed his hand on Beleg's shoulder. 'You truly stand with me in all deeds.'

'In all deeds that I might.' Beleg answered.

Narn glanced from the two of them over at the other two plush toys. She did not think it would be a good idea to awaken them. It would probably lead to lots of trouble and lots of strife, and someone might wind up dead. That would not be a good way to end a Monday.

'Awaken them!' Túrin cried suddenly, turning to the sisters. 'For did I not hear that the kiss must be given by one who is not under the curse?'

'No, not exactly,' Narn said. 'Beleg said that you could only be awoken by a kiss, but the he could not awake you, so it is an assumption that could be made about the nature of the curse.' She paused. 'However, it could also be that a person under the curse cannot be awoken by an Elf, so that is also a possibility.'

Túrin bent and kissed the Andróg toy. 'It must be given by someone who is not cursed,' he said.

'Oh there’s lots of variables,’ Narn said. ‘Maybe men can’t do it? Or, hmm, someone who was once a toy can’t do it?’

Túrin frowned, as if he did not appreciate being called ‘once a toy.' But, 'Will you not then awaken them?' was the only thing he said.

'Perhaps,' said Narn, who was worriedly stroking Laurel's head. Laurel had taken to cautiously whining and occasionally sniffing at Beleg's feet, wagging her tail. 'But I don't know if that…' she trailed off.

'Would be a good idea,' Beleg finished for her. He stroked the dog’s head. 'Túrin, they are not what I would call very civilized. Their wild looks and ways might frighten these good ladies.' There was a catch of hope in his voice.

'Nay,' said Túrin, 'for I would not have my man continue to suffer as I have, nor the Dwarf, for he lent me shelter inside his home. I cannot just stand aside and let them continue under the cruel curse of Morgoth.' He turned back to the sisters. 'I pray of thee, release them.'

It was rather hard not to listen to him. His voice was deep and persuasive, and his eyes were pleading.

'No,' Narn said firmly. 'For I have heard evil report of him.' She pointed at Andróg, realizing a bit too late that their strange way of talking was growing on her.

'I will contain him,' said Túrin, 'for he is under my command.'

'I do not trust him, nor the Dwarf.' She folded her arms and lifted her chin higher.

'As you wish,' Túrin said, with a bow of his head. 'My friend then will have to suffer unimaginable torment while I stand aside, helpless. O! a curse upon the name of Morgoth for thinking of a fate so dreadful! O! a curse upon the hands of Morgoth for his foul deeds.' He covered his face with his hands and began to weep.

'Please, don't,' Narn said. She didn't really like watching people cry – especially people she already felts sorry for, like Túrin. Regretting it already, she kissed the Andróg and Mîm plush toys, stepping back with fear as they began to grow. 'There,' she said, 'I have freed them. But if ever they do harm to me or any of my people, may the curse you laid on Morgoth fall onto them!'

As she said that, Andróg sprang up, fear and anger in his eyes. His hand went down to his side, clutching for a sword or knife that was not there. He cursed and glared at the sisters.

Mîm growled but said nothing. He went to stand by Túrin's side.

'I am most grateful,' Túrin said, bowing his head awkwardly as he tried to avoid hitting the ceiling again.

'Mmm,' said Narn. 'Okay. Um…' She glanced at Galad, who nodded. They needed to talk to each other alone.

'Come this way, please,' Narn said, leading them into the Blue Room. 'I believe that you might wish to…' she looked around for something for them to do. 'Watch the television. It will show you many things about this world.' She turned it on without glancing at it and retreated to the kitchen with her sister. The others did not follow them.

'What do we do?' Narn asked, leaning back against the counter.

Galad shrugged and started to walk in a thinking circle around the kitchen. Neither of them was prepared to deal with the implications of four characters from their favourite books suddenly being in their house. They were prepared to deal with hurricanes, tornadoes, rampaging orcs, tyrant shoutings from their father, midnight baking escapades, and sudden alien invasions, but this – this was too good to be true. And also too terrible.

'I mean, how is this possible?' Narn said. 'And what do we tell the little parentsies?’ (The little parentsies being a mocking nickname for the tyranical rulers they lived under.) ‘This isn't a dream, is it?'

'It doesn't feel like a dream.'

'No, it doesn't.' Narn closed her eyes. 'But if it isn't a dream…'

Galad stopped pacing suddenly. Narn glanced over where she was looking. In the small hallway between the kitchen and living room Túrin was standing, Beleg, Andróg, and Mîm behind him.

'What is it?' Narn asked warily.

Túrin raised his eyebrows. 'We do not like Barney.'

Chapter Text

'And full friendship he found not easily' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lays of Beleriand

The two maidens froze for a moment, giving each other worried looks. In fact, they looked so pathetic that Túrin felt sorry for speaking so harshly to them. After all, they had just freed him and his companions from Morgoth's spell.

'There is no need to fear,' he said gallantly, taking a step forward. 'It is only that what we just saw was in no way pleasing to us. Indeed, we wished that this Barney, as they called him, would be slain.'

'And we would have been very happy to do it,' added Andróg, patting his belt where his knife should have been.

'His interactions with the children were indeed strange,' said Beleg. 'Do you not find it disturbing that this purple monster, which was very likely to be possessed of some evil spirit, was teaching those young, innocent children how to live?'

'Yes. Yes. That is most strange,' stammered the shorter of the two maidens, straightening her hair. 'I did not realize that was on.'

'On?' Túrin asked, fascinated.

'The show, the program,' she said, 'playing on television. I didn't realize.'

'What is television?' asked Beleg, his eyes gleaming with interest.

'It's what we just showed you. It's waves…of some sort…they…fly through the air…and are received by the antenna…which makes them into…pictures and sounds…somehow…I think.' She stopped. 'Yeah. That.'

'Ah,' said Túrin, trying to look as if he understood. 'Very well.'

'May I ask,' said Andróg, with a measured degree of faux politeness. 'Where the hell are we?'

Beleg shot him a sharp look.

Túrin held them gently apart from each other. 'That is a question that we would like answered, if you would be so kind as to tell us?'

'You're in the United States of America,' said the taller maid.

Túrin nodded. 'I see.'

'Here,' said the other maiden, stepping towards them, 'I could show you, on the map.' She gestured behind them.

Túrin, Andróg, Beleg, and Mîm turned around curiously, and she ducked swiftly past them, hitting something as she did so that clicked loudly.

A dim light from a glass dome came on from above them. Túrin stared at it in wonder. He had not believed that there were so many peoples in the world who made use of magic.

'We're here. Right here.' The maiden waved her hand over an enormous country.

'All of this is your country?' said Beleg softly, ducking down to study the map. 'And this is…?' He touched an island.

'England. That's Scotland, and that other island is Ireland.' She tapped her finger against the map.

Túrin took Beleg's geography lesson as the perfect time to scrutinize his new hosts. After all, Beleg had taught him not to let any detail slip by unheeded, sometimes the littlest things were the most important.

This one, the geography teacher, was very short, about five feet he guessed, and slim. She had brown hair touched with gold and copper, very pale skin, and green and gold eyes. She was wearing a blue skirt, a black shirt, and green wool socks. She seemed to be quite happy to name all the countries on the map. All in all, that told him…absolutely nothing.

He sighed. There had to be something to surmise. Beleg said that there always was something. But he had never been that good with people; he could disappear in the forest, shoot a (semi-stationary) target with his eyes closed, and throw even Elves off his trail, but he just didn't get people. He looked again, harder this time.

'That's Cuba. I've never been there. That island is Australia.'

No, nothing.

Very well, maybe he could learn something from the other one. He looked at her sharply where she was standing by the doorframe, petting the dog's head. She was taller but not very tall. He supposed it would be called average for a woman. She also had brown hair, but it was wavy. She also had green and gold eyes. She was wearing a purple cardigan and dark blue trousers.

Túrin decided that the two maidens were probably sisters.

'Ah, very good. I thank thee for your explanation,' Beleg said, bowing his head. 'Is this then your house?'

'Yes,' said the little geography teacher. 'I am Narn, and this is my sister Galad.'

Túrin nodded gravely. He had been right.

'Are you hungry?' asked Narn, turning the light off with another loud click as she ducked into the kitchen.

'Very,' said Andróg, who seemed to never pass up food.

Mîm glared after her and then looked up at Túrin. 'Why are we staying here?' he growled.

'We have nowhere to go,' said Túrin, reaching along the wall. There was something there, something small and hard that jutted out from the wall strangely. He tugged on it a few times, and it slipped upwards with a loud click. The light came back on. He shoved it down. The light went off. Up. On. Down. Off. Up. On. Down. Off. Up. On.

'Túrin, what is that?' Beleg lay his hand on his arm gently, looking up into his eyes.

With a shrug, Túrin shoved it down. The light went off.

'It's a light switch,' said Galad. 'It turns the light on.'

'How fascinating,' said Beleg, sliding his warm hand into Túrin's and holding it fast. 'But do you not think that we have seen enough of its use?'

Túrin nodded, stepping away from it. He bumped his head against the doorframe and sighed. Ducking under the frame and an irritating metal bar that just happened to be placed under it for him to bang his head on (in actuality, it was for exercise), he walked back into the large room. 'Is this a kitchen?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Narn, who was standing by the green counter, slicing up a loaf of bread. 'Do you like grilled cheese?'

'Ah, yes,' said Beleg quickly.

'Good.' She turned a little white knob, and blue flames sprang up.

Andróg jumped. He looked at Túrin, and his eyes questioned of witches.

Túrin quickly began to craft plans to leave.

Two hours, three sandwiches, four cups of tea, and five chocolate chip cookies later, Túrin began to doubt the wisdom of that plan. After all, they were in a completely foreign land with no certain knowledge of anything around them: leaving might not be a good idea.

'Do you live alone?' he heard Beleg asking the maidens; he had been quizzing them on almost everything imaginable as soon as he had been told to sit down.

'No,' said Galad. 'We live with our parents and our brother.'

Mîm crinkled his nose up as he always did when they spoke and stuffed another cookie into his mouth.

Narn suddenly looked worried.

'Is something wrong, lady?' asked Beleg.

Túrin cupped his chin in his hand and watched them dutifully.

'No,' she said softly.

'Then what is it?'

Túrin suddenly heard what sounded like something very heavy being dragged across gravel, and turned in alarm. 'What is that?' he asked as the dog started to bark fiercely. He drew his sword.

'It's nothing to be alarmed about,' said Galad. 'Our parents are just coming home from shopping.'

'Which might be a good thing,' said Narn, glancing at the crumbs on the cutting board (all that was left of two loaves of home-made bread.)

The dog started to bark and then a man and a women entered together with groceries. Túrin stood as they stared at him.

'We seem to be your unintended guests,' he said. 'We are sorry for the intrusion, but we have come to your home with no way that we know of to return to our lands. We shall, of course, leave, if you so wish.’

Túrin stood tense. He did not like the feel of the man, and he could tell Beleg did not either. There was an evil to him.

‘Narn?’ said the woman.

Narn shrugged.

‘They needed help,’ she said.

'What are your names?' the man asked.

'I am Neithan,' said Túrin. 'And this is Beleg. That is Andróg. And that is Mîm.'

The air was very tense. Túrin was almost touching the hanging copper lamp.

Narn sucked in a little sharp breath.

‘They were starving,’ she said. ‘They had nowhere to go.’

Túrin looked to Beleg. Beleg gave an almost invisible nod.

‘Thank you,’ Beleg said to Narn and Galad.

The man held up his hand just then.

‘Where are you from?’

Chapter Text

"Enter not into it!" - J.R.R. Tolkien - The Silmarillion

We are from Beleriand,' said Túrin gravely.

'Really?' said the man. 'Where's that?'

'It is,' Túrin said slowly, his face worn with concentration. ''Tis very far away.'

'Belgium, actually,' said Andróg in a low growl. He looked very dangerous, almost as if he were deciding whether or not to steal a kitchen knife and murder someone on the spot.

Beleg lay his hand on Túrin's arm and nodded toward Andróg.

Túrin looked over. 'Yes,' he said, 'it is in Belgium.'

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Beleg nodded his head. He frowned a little, however.

'Belgium?' said the man. 'That's a beautiful country…'

'It is,' Andróg said coldly. He took a step away from Mîm at the same moment the Dwarf stepped away from him. They glared at each other.

The man didn't seem to notice. He was talking about some trip he made to Belgium once upon a time.

'That is quite fascinating,' said Beleg, who knew nothing of Belgium and rather wished Andróg hadn't brought it up. After all, just because they were given a lesson on geography didn't mean they had to use it when they had no idea what they were talking about. Anyway, he hadn't even realized Andróg had been paying attention. He sniffed at Andróg when no one else seemed to be paying attention to prove his thoughts to him, even if the uncouth, dirty man had no idea what he was proving. Andróg crinkled his nose at him and then looked away. Beleg shot him a well-deserved glare.

Short nails dug into his palms, and Beleg sighed softly and looked back over at Túrin, who was trying hard not to look annoyed. It wasn't working. Deciding just to be glad that it was his hand Túrin was holding, Beleg kept his gaze purposefully away from Andróg and concentrated instead on the dog who was excitedly dropping toys at his feet.

That's what Sauron wanted us to endure he thought with a shudder, looking down at the mutilated, saliva-sodden tiger resting on the tips of his shoes. He squeezed Túrin's hand tighter.

Túrin gave out a startled gasp of pain. 'Ai!'

Beleg dropped his hand quickly as all eyes in the room turned on them, and tucked some of his hair back behind his ear.

'Are you all right?' asked the woman, who was looking them up and down with a great deal of curiosity and a hint of fear.

'I am quite well, thank-you for your concern,' Túrin said, bowing his head. 'I was only inflicted with a brief bout of pain on my hand, resulting, no doubt from the sudden fear of my dear friend. I pray you, Beleg, tell me, what is it that has caused your pulse to quicken so? I can feel your heart racing in my fingers.'

Beleg couldn't think of something else that had frightened him. He was no good at lying anyway. He shook his head gently and gave Túrin a tight smile. 'It is nothing.'

'Are you certain?'

'I am quite certain. Just a small worry concerning our return.’

Túrin nodded.

'Tea?' asked the woman, setting down a porcelain pot painted with flowers and gilded with gold on the edges. She set down a few cups.

'Thank-you,' Túrin said.

Beleg took a cup as well even though they had already been given tea by the daughters.

'Would you like some sugar in yours, Andróg?' he asked with an overly sweet smile. 'To sweeten your disposition and that sour face of yours?'

Túrin kicked him under the table. 'Beleg.'

With a sigh at being chastised, Beleg added some sugar to Andróg's cup. 'There,' he said, handing it to him.

Andróg took it without breaking angry eye contact with him, thus spilling the hot liquid on both their hands. Beleg yanked his hand back, rubbing it hastily with his other hand to dry it.

'Here, a napkin,' said Galad, shoving a napking towards him. It was a napkin, but it was made of paper. He wiped his hands dry and put the spent napkin down properly onto his lap.

Keeping an ear on the conversation, he dipped his spoon into the sugar bowl, watching the little crystals glitter.

'So,' said the man. 'What brings you to the states?'

'Well,' said Túrin, 'we…'

'We enjoy travelling,' Andróg said quickly.

Túrin nodded. 'Indeed we do.'

'So,' the man continued, 'Do you have anywhere you're headin'?'

'Not really,' said Túrin, 'we're just…travelling.'

'And do you have any place to stay?'

'No, I am afraid not,' Túrin said.

The woman looked at the sword at Túrin’s side and then at her husband and then back at the sword again. She put down her teacup.

'You can stay here,' said the man. 'You aren't on drugs, are you?'

'No, indeed not,' Túrin answered. He still didn’t like the air of him. 'But you would be too kind in offering us the refuge of your own home.'

'Nonsense,' the man retorted. 'We have plenty of room.'

Beleg looked at the woman, who was biting her lip, and then across the table at Narn, who narrowed her eyes slightly as she nodded.

'Thank you,' said Túrin, keep his tone gracious. 'I hope that someday we can repay you.’

They were put up downstairs. Túrin sat on the futon, head in his hands.

‘What do we do?’ he asked.

Andróg shrugged. ‘It’s the Elf’s fault. He’s the one who dragged us out into the wilds and straight into Sauron’s grasp.’

Beleg frowned, but he didn’t deny it.

‘Do we stay?’ Andróg said.

'I do not see what else we can do,' Túrin said. 'We do not have the strength to walk blindly into misfortune. We do not know if the curse will return, nor what can save us from it.’

‘We should leave.’ Andróg paced quickly in the small room, which was a light yellow in colour with a reddish wood floor covered by a large wool rug died a vibrant red and spun with twisted, coloured flowers. 'This is where Sauron placed us, and the people here are strange.’

‘Hush,’ said Túrin.

Andróg shook his head. ‘I must tell you were my mind and my heart lie.'

‘Please,’ Túrin said. ‘I do not believe he intended what has happened, and that the spell be broken as it was.’

‘There is something wrong here,’ Beleg said. ‘There is a great evil.’

‘There is,’ Túrin said. ‘Though what exactly it is, I cannot say.’

‘It reminds me of when I first met your men,’ Beleg said.

Andróg’s face grew graver. He clenched his teeth together.

'Beleg, sit down,' Túrin snapped.

Startled, Beleg turned to him to protest.

'Sit down.' Túrin's blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

Beleg sank down without reply onto the futon.

'What would you advise me?' Túrin asked. Turning to Andróg, he lay his hand on the man's arm.

'I would warn you to leave. We can take what we need tonight.' He glared up at the ceiling. 'We would not disturb them. They sleep on the floor above us, and we are very silent.'

‘To steal from them,’ Túrin said softly. 'You would counsel me to steal from our hosts and rescuers? The man may feel wicked, but I have no grief with the women. It would be against my own honour to take that which does not belong to me from the very house that has offered us shelter.’ Túrin shook his head. 'Andróg, you cannot ask that.'

Beleg would have bet his last arrow that he actually would have. In fact, if he had been paying attention (which he had) he would have been able to report that Andróg had indeed just asked Túrin to go against his honour and rob the house that had given him shelter. He glared at Andróg, and started to speak. Mîm stopped him with a whisper.

'It wouldn't be the first time.'

Andróg either didn't hear that remark, or he chose to ignore it. 'Then what should I ask? That you remain true to your honour and conscience and stay prisoner in the house of those that a great enemy has placed you in the hands of? Neithan, you cannot close your eyes to the truth forever. There are people in the world that you cannot trust.' He glared at Beleg.

'I know that,' Túrin answered. 'But that is not the only truth that I know, nor the one that I wish to answer to tonight.' He folded his arms firmly. 'Do you understand?'

'I understand your folly, but you know that I shall not leave without you. I can see that you have fallen under an influence that you should not have let into your heart.' He cast another sharp look at Beleg. 'Now you love that liar more than any sensible man would ever love another.' He took a step forward. 'You should fear that love. It is too great.'

'Goodnight, Andróg,' Túrin said firmly, laying his hand on Beleg's shoulder.

Andróg glared a few more moments at the Elf and then shrugged. 'Goodnight, Neithan.' He cast a disdainful look at Mîm who sat curled up under a blanket in one corner of the room before sauntering out to the so-called Blue Room (which was in actuality purple, like the hall and stairwell) and shut the door tightly behind him.
Beleg kicked at the floor, feeling anger and embarrassment rush to his face in a hot blush. He looked up at Túrin.

'What say you to that?'

Túrin glanced behind him at Mîm, who was watching them jealously, and then took Beleg's head in his hands, holding it firmly up. 'I do not regret for a moment loving you.'

'And what of them?' asked Beleg, nodding towards the ceiling.

'I will not hurt the women, nor betray their trust.’ Túrin drew back the few blankets that had been laid over the mattress and slid under them.

Beleg sat on the edge of the futon, aimlessly picking little pieces of lint off the top blanket.

'Lie down, Beleg,' Túrin murmured, reaching up to him.

Beleg drew instead away, glancing towards the curtains that hung over the bay window. He turned the lamp off from the switch and drew the curtains back, looking up at the stars that glistened in the sky above the dark horizon and sleeping houses.

'Beleg, are you coming to bed?'

Beleg did not answer. Mîm was still watching him: he could feel his eyes trying to bore through him. He shifted uncomfortably. He closed his eyes. He could still see the stars shining.

'Beleg, come now, you are not planning to sit there like a sentinel all night are you?'

Beleg sighed and lay down beside Túrin. 'I heard her scolding them,' he whispered as he settled down.

'What?' Túrin sounded tired in the dark.

'I heard the woman scolding her daughters.'

'For what?'

'For letting us in.'

'Ah.'

'She's worried.'

'She has a right to be.'

'I know.'

Beleg could hear another rumble in the distance. They were cars, vehicles, he had been told. Some form of transportation. There was another rumble from the ground as well. He had been told that that was the furnace. And the louder rumble from the cellar was the water-pump. And the buzz from the kitchen was the refrigerator. And the hum all around him was electricity from one device or another. And he didn't need to worry in the least. Bright lights flashed over the walls as the rumble rose to a roar and another car sped down the road and out into the darkness.

'But you do trust the girls, do you not, Túrin?'

'Yes, I told you that.' Túrin sighed. 'I do not believe that they mean us harm. But you see more in faces and hear more in voices than I ever shall. Tell me, what did you think of them?'

'The daughters think a lot. Galad, she was dreaming when we came. Narn, she was scared…and joyful.' He smiled softly. 'She writes a lot. Did you see, her hand is calloused where she holds the pen.'

'No, I did not notice.'

'It is only slight.' Beleg licked his lip. ‘The woman does not trust us. Not fully, not really. She fears for her children, for her house, and her family.' He fell quiet, lost in his own thoughts.

'And the man?'

'He is a hard man. His family fears him, but I do not know what he has done. I could not read it in their faces. They keep many secrets.'

The night ticked away the silence.

‘They fought about us. They fight often. They are sad. It is a sad family.’

'Why are they sad, Beleg?'

'I do not know fully, I could only read it in their faces, hear it in their voices.' Beleg swallowed. ‘I hope that my fears are not true… But, I can only guess.’
Túrin did not reply to him; he lay his head closer, drawing his arms about him. 'I understand,' he said finally, but it was so quiet that it got lost in the small room. Beleg felt his warm breath on his face. It smelt like peppermint. He let Túrin snuggle against him as he always had whenever he was feeling a little chilly.

He sighed softly. 'Túrin?'

'Mmm?'

'Your feet are cold.'

Túrin smiled against Beleg’s back.

‘Someone is coming,’ Beleg whispered.

A few moments later, the was one single knock on the door.

‘Come,’ Beleg said.

Narn stepped in. She held her breath for a moment.

‘What is it?’ Beleg asked.

‘I can’t stay long,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t think you can leave. If you were planning to.’

‘Why not?’ Beleg sat up.

‘Because…’ she said. ‘Because...’

Beleg reached out and touched her arm. She flinched. Beleg drew his hand back.

‘Because you might reverse,’ she said. ‘It was too easy. It’s never that easy.’

‘It’s all right,’ Beleg said gently. ‘We’re not leaving.’

She looked over her shoulder, twisted a lock of her waist-long hair around her finger.

‘I have things I have to tell you. Not now. I can’t stay now. I’ll be up early… he gets up early, but… I can’t stay.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll go now. I need to talk to you, but not now.’ She slipped out, just as silently as she had come.

Beleg worried his lip.

‘What do you think that means?’ Túrin asked.

Beleg shrugged.

‘Just try to sleep. We will find out in the morning.’

Chapter Text

'Then Túrin looked for companions willing to aid him in his peril.' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Mîm awoke to strange voices. He started to turn to see what they were, but found, to his dismay, that he could not move. He struggled to no avail: he was fast stuck. A few more moments of recollection and thinking on his part led him to the discovery that he was a toy again.

He would have groaned aloud, except that he was a toy so he could not. Of course, this led him to the obvious wish that he was not a toy so that he could groan. If he had continued this train out thought, he would have realized that if he had not awoken a toy, he would not have wanted to groan, so wishing that he were not a toy so that he could groan was inherently pointless. But our poor Mîm did not bother trying to think this through, so he was left with his understandable but inane longings as he started to listen to what the strange voices that had awoken him were saying.

A few moments of listening, and he realized that this would be very difficult, simply because, even if he were allowed to hear by Morgoth's wishes, cloth ears were still not the best for that. And the speakers were whispering. To make matters worse, he could not see them.

He wished that he had not fallen asleep with his eyes shut.

'Is this all that you know then?'

That was Beleg; Mîm would have recognized the Elf's annoying voice anywhere. He could pretty much have been deaf, and he would have still recognized it.

Since he pretty much was deaf, his point was proven. Unfortunately, that did not make Mîm happy. Mîm had never learned to count his blessings.

'Yes, that is all.' The voice was strange, very quiet.

Mîm rightly decided that it was Narn, back with her sad stories or whatever she’d needed to say. He did not like her at all. She seemed distant, and he was pretty certain that she had a good mind to be cruel and unfeeling. Also, he doubted she would know, like, or understand anything about Dwarvish customs. He tried to sneer at the voice before remembering he could not move his face.

In horror, Mîm wondered if he was smiling.

'Túrin?'

'And you are certain that there is no known way to return to where we came from?' Mîm actually liked Túrin's voice. He wondered why Túrin would not speak to him more often. It seemed dreadfully unfair that Beleg got all his attention. Beleg wasn't even that great, despite all his skills. He was an Elf; he could not possibly be. Besides, he had the irritating additions of being naturally flirtatious and liking raspberries, which lowered anyone in Mîm's book. Mîm was fairly certain that the only reason Túrin favoured him so was because he had a very pretty face. Mîm wanted to smash it.

'Yes, I am. Where you are from…it is not thought to exist.'

'I see,' Túrin said.

Mîm vainly wished that he could again.

'It would still be best for none else to know of where you came…' Narn’s voice dropped too low for him to make out.

Mîm was about to curse his cloth ears, but he remembered in time that Dwarvish curses had an uncanny way of coming true. He cursed Narn’s voice instead.

'It would be best if you told my parents that you wanted to move on; they would take you to town, and you could come to my university afterwards. We can discuss what to do there. I can meet you at the statue in the front.’

'All right.' Túrin sounded calm, which Mîm figured was a good thing.

'Can you read?'

'I do not know if I can read your language, Narn.'

'I find it strange that you can speak it.'

Oddly, Mîm heard the rustle of paper. He wondered why it was so loud.

'Can you read this?'

'Spring savings. Half off everything. Make sure to take advantage of this special offer. Roast beef, only…crossed 'S'…1.75 per pound. Grapes—' Túrin read monotonously before being cut off.

'Good. That will make everything easier. We can meet at half past noon.’

'And if we…change before that?' It was Beleg again. Great potatoes, Mîm hated that voice!

'Perhaps you only change if you fall asleep. Perhaps it is after a time period. I do not know; that is a great concern. It might be best if we met earlier.'

There was an incredibly long pause, and Mîm felt himself be picked up gently. He guessed it was Túrin.

'You can join me at my English class. I believe you should still be…' There was a pause, probably necessary for figuring out how to say something politely. 'Non-toy. You can meet me in Vander Hall.’

'Ah. My parents are getting up. I had best leave you; you shall eat breakfast with us, and then you should do as I told you.’

Mîm received a quick peck on his plush cheek, but he only caught the sight of long brown hair whisking away before Túrin let out a cry and dropped the growing Dwarf.

'This is where she said that she would meet us,' Túrin assured Mîm, looking around the long corridor; it was a dirty off-white, with strange rectangle lights spaced across the ceiling, and wavy orange benches shoved along the walls between the many doors. Students hurried back and forth down its length, shooting them strange looks once in a while.

Mîm had already decided that cars were the worst invention anyone had ever thought of, and he was now trying to compare them with schools, which he was sure fit up there in the list somewhere. He stood close to Túrin, trying to avoid bumping into Beleg who was nearly pressed against the Man. He seriously thought something was wrong with the Elf.

'Here you are.' It was the quiet, female voice again.

What a stupid statement, Mîm thought. Of course they were there. He wondered why Túrin would bother with this woman.

'I am glad to see that you are all well.' She gave them a slight smile, which Mîm made certain he did not return.

'My sister is coming,' she said. 'We're trying to figure out if you can sit in on the class.' She looked over the four of them. 'There are quite many of you.'

Galad came walking up down the hall, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the tiles. 'Do you think they can?' she asked her sister.

Mîm decided that her voice was not as horrible as her sister's. It was easier to make out.

'I do not believe we have much of a choice. Class is about to start. If they can't, they can sit in the hall and wait.'

'Yes.' Narn looked down at her wrist in sudden alarm. 'We're going to be late!' she exclaimed, pulling the sleeve of her cardigan back nearly over her hand.

Galad did not seem that concerned. 'He's usually five minute late himself,' she said.

'That does not matter in the least,' Narn said primly. 'We have to go. It's 11.' She turned sharply around to walk firmly down the hall.

Mîm followed Túrin after her.

'You're late!' a male voice cried cheerfully, and Mîm looked up to see a grey-haired man in a blue coat and red tie smiling at the two women in the hall way. He waltzed happily into the classroom, and Narn and Galad hurried in after him, Galad gesturing for them to follow.

'What was the point of this week's reading?' a loud female voice greeted them.

The grey-haired man ignored the question as he made his cheery way to the front of the classroom, looking slightly started as Túrin, Beleg, Andróg, and Mîm made their way in as well.

'Um, could, well, they're…' Narn stopped speaking, as half of the class looked her way. The other half didn't seem to notice her, as they were too busy sharing their favourite children's shows on their ipads (they were wondering why someone's kids didn't like Bear in the Big Blue House and trying to convince a short blonde girl that she had to watch Rollie-Pollie-Ollie or something like that or her life wouldn't be complete) or whispering to each other about projects that they hadn't done.

'Yes, Narn?' the grey-haired man, who seemed to be a professor, asked.

'They…' She pointed weakly to Mîm and his companions. 'They’re thinking of coming to school here. Can they watch the class.' She asked the question flatly, without any inflection in her voice.

'Yes, of course.' The grey-haired man fixed his attention on the four.

Mîm gave him a pointed glare.

'Are you interested in attending this school?' he asked.

'We might be,' Túrin answered evasively.

'I'm Garret Farrell,' he said, offering them his hand.

Túrin shook it firmly, and stood a little to the side so that Beleg could do the same. Mîm folded his arms over his chest, and Andróg shook Farrell's hand stiffly.

'Since no one is here,' said Farrell, looking ruefully about the half-empty room, 'you can sit wherever you like.'

Narn gestured to the chairs near to where she and Galad had moved, although they had not sat down.

'By the way,' Farrell said as an after-thought, 'what are your names?'

'I'm Neithan,' said Túrin firmly.

'Túrin,' Beleg whispered under his breath.

'This is Beleg, Andróg, and Mîm.'

Mîm wondered why he was always listed last. If he had known that he was being listed last in a chapter that was being told mainly from his point of view, he would have been very angry. However, he did not know that, so he was simply annoyed, if you can call Mîm's annoyance simple. Which you can, by the way, but you would probably be lying or gravely mistaken.

Farrell's brow wrinkled for a moment; after that, his nose wrinkled. Then he rubbed his nose and turned to Narn and Galad.

'Narn,' he said very slowly, 'is this a joke?'

If Mîm had known that poor Narn (who was feeling incredibly awkward and dreadfully uncomfortable at that point) had actually written her last paper on the relationship of Beleg & Túrin compared to that of Gilgamesh & Enkidu with references to David & Jonathan and Patroclus & Achilles, he might have understood why Farrell had said that. But he did not know, so he was extremely confused.

'No.' She sat down hard, looking slightly faint.

Farrell looked from her, to her sister, to the four of them again.

'No?'

Narn covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

He nodded, but looked a little unconvinced. 'Very well then. Should we begin class?'

'No.'

Mîm started. He had just heard the word, but it sounded even worse then, perhaps because it was directed against authority. He glared at the offender.

Farrell sat down quite unperturbed; he seemed to think this was a normal occurrence. 'Why not?'

'We need to talk about that scholarship.' It was the same offender as before. A woman a bit older than most of the students who was wearing an impressive amount of heavy jewellery, but a second glance at it proved that it wasn't real at all.

A look of disbelief and fear spread over Farrell's face. 'We'll talk about that later, Dinah,' he said quickly, shifting with his papers.

'No. We need to talk about it now.'

Farrell looked about the class and gave a nervous laugh. 'What is there to talk about?'

'I don't think it was awarded fairly. You need to give more people a chance.'

With a cough, Farrell looked down at his desk and then up at the woman. 'Well…' he stammered.

Mîm looked at the clock. For an odd and unexplained reason, he knew how to read it. It read 11:09. It was 11:13 before the woman named Dinah and the man named Farrell stopped their discussion. And only then, it was because someone coughed almost onto Dinah’s face and two others started a loud private conversation and some boy nearly fell asleep. That is when the class started.

'What did you think of the reading?' Farrell asked with a hopeful smile.

'It was pointless. Horrible. That guy was a wuss.'

'It was like reading Romeo's diary,' Dinah said.

'Juliet's,' a dark haired woman groaned.

'No, because Juliet doesn't have a thought in her head,' Dinah declared, slamming her ringed hand down on the table.

'True.'

'You didn't like Werther?' Farrell piped up, sitting a bit higher in his chair.

'He was so creepy, and he cried all the time.'

'What was with him and the kids? He was always kissing them; it was so weird.'

'I think something was seriously wrong with that guy.'

'I'm glad he killed himself.'

Dinah shook her head. 'No one should ever kill themselves. It leaves everyone they left behind miserable. It is the most selfish thing that they could do.'

'Before this book,' Farrell managed to put in, 'there had never been a sensitive, leading male character.'

'We don't need sensitive men,' Dinah blurted. 'Women like manly men, not men who look and act like girls.'

'So you didn't like Werther?' Farrell asked again. Maybe he had forgotten he had already said; it was obvious they didn't.

'He was so emo,' Dinah moaned.

Most of the class agreed whole-heartedly.

'Do you remember what he was wearing when he killed himself?' Farrell asked eagerly.

There was a collective silence.

'A blue coat and custard coloured pants,' Farrell continued without really waiting. 'After the book was published, many people committed suicide in clothes like that. It was a big movement.'

'Who would want to wear custard coloured pants?' someone laughed.

'It got so bad,' Farrell continued, 'that another author went and wrote an ending where Young Werther decided at the last moment that he wanted to live. But Goethe said that it ruined his story.'

'Yeah, well, I don't really care if people like Werther kill themselves,' someone yawned. 'It will get them off the face of the planet.'

'Well...' Farrell said, like he was too stupid to argue. ‘What about our group presentation?'

The group presentation was an acting skit called 'freeze.' People would act out the scene, and if someone wanted to take their place, they simply called out 'freeze' and replaced the character. More students had trailed in since the class began, so the room was by then quite full. Mîm felt dreadfully uncomfortable and wished that he could go crawl into a hole somewhere; it would make him feel much better.

Beleg pretty much had his mouth pressed to Túrin's ear and was whispering to him about something that Mîm could not make out. This made him most angry. He was very certain that Beleg liked being close to Túrin just to make him feel bad. Or maybe it was to make Andróg feel bad. Or maybe he was in love with him. Whatever the reason, it was awful.

Werther was being played by a girl with long hair and an undercut, big glasses, and a gold nose ring. Werther's love interest, Charlotte was a boy who had stuck a sparkly pink bow in his curly hair and was wearing lip-gloss. They spoke with too much enunciation much too loudly and waved their hands all the time.

He half-listened to them drone on about their love and fear and uninterest and such while the narrator, the short blonde girl who had been introduced to Rollie-Pollie-Ollie earlier, added things excitedly. 'He's such a creep!' 'Oh my god!' 'No, no, no! Stay away! Stay away, please!'

Mîm decided that school was probably a worse invention than automobiles.

It was going to be a long day, Mîm thought. Which was when he noticed something strange. Andróg was shrinking. Not only that, his skin was turning…plush.

Túrin and Beleg noticed at the same time that he did. Surprisingly, Beleg leaned over Túrin and pressed his lips to Andróg's cheek. The man kept shrinking.

Narn gasped when she looked that way (along with most of the class) and ran across the floor before anyone else really had time to react. She leaned over the desk and took Andróg's head between her hands, kissing his forehead with her eyes closed. He quickly resumed normal form, and straightened himself out.

The classroom was silent.

Farrell made a slight sound resembling a squeak.

Narn took a step back, pressing her hands to her white cheeks, which began to grow pink beneath her fingers.

'What was that?' Dinah asked.

'Uh,' Narn said, scarcely opening her mouth. She looked so close to fainting that Mîm actually felt his spirits lift.

'Asthma,' Galad said, bravely coming to the rescue. 'He needs to go outside.'

And that is how Mîm found himself being ushered out to get his obligatory kiss. Which, he figured in the end, was the worst invention ever.

Well, those and plush toys.

'So, you have to be kissed every five hours?' Narn leaned back against the sofa of the student lounge and closed her eyes, counting to five silently.

'Right.'

'By me?'

'Yes.'

'Except if you are kissed by someone else in between, in which case the time period is 24 hours?'

'Correct.'

Narn opened her eyes again and turned to her sister. 'It's just me?' she asked, looking back.

'Yes.'

'I'm the only one.'

'Right. Because you were the first.’

'And what breaks this curse?'

'I don’t know,' Túrin said quietly, going to look out the window. ‘But this is how the curse goes.’ He looked down at the slip of shipping paper that had come with them. ‘It says here, though you couldn’t read it. It doesn't tell what breaks it, of course.'

Mîm wondered what lay out the window, but he was too short to see, and he did not want to ask for help. It irked him.

'Yes, I see.' Narn ran her hand over her hair and started to tuck it repeatedly behind her ear.

'We must get back to our land.' Túrin said, starting as the soft drink dispenser stared to whine again. He looked at it warily. 'We must.'

'But you cannot leave me…' she whispered, but then nodded. 'Well, that makes things interesting.'

'You will help us?' Túrin asked, ducking his head to avoid hitting the smoke detector on the ceiling.

She nodded. 'Yes, but I'll have to bring you to Finland.' She smiled softly and wove her fingers together. 'Shall we discuss plans?'

Chapter Text

'Secrecy is not finally possible.' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

‘Okay, so,’ Narn said. ‘I’m going to Finland for a couple months to, like, nanny. And you need to come along so we can figure this all out. But I don’t have enough money, and you don’t have, like, identification, so you can’t go on the plane so… how about we, like, well… You’re pretty small when you’re… and I’m bringing a suitcase...’

‘You actually expect us to travel as toys crammed into your luggage?' Andróg asked sharply.

'I cannot really think of another way to bring you,' she answered calmly, but her hands twitched in her lap, betraying her nervousness.

'We could travel as you do – like beings with our own rights and privileges,' Andróg said coldly, his blue eyes narrowing.

She looked down at the hands on her lap and immediately laid them still against her knee.

‘Like I said, you don’t have any paperwork. And it will only be twenty-four hours. You can sleep.’

‘I thought Finland was on the other side of the ocean,’ Beleg said, remembering the map. ‘How can we travel that far so quickly?’

‘Because we’re going in the plane,’ Narn said. ‘Airplane. It flies. I could like, let you look out the window.’

'No, I do not believe that we can travel as you have suggested,' said Túrin firmly. 'We shall have to try to travel as passengers.'

Narn sighed.

‘Do you have money or something to sell or pawn? You could try to get tickets, if you like. And then, once you have managed those, you could try to find a way to get aboard the plane without your passport – or I think you might actually have to have a passport before you buy tickets.' Pausing a moment, she tried to remember. 'Yes, we had to have a passport first since they asked for a passport number.’

'A passport?' Andróg repeated.

'It's…it's a document that shows what country you are from and who you are and that you want to travel and that you were allowed into a country if you get there,' she explained, trying and failing to keep her voice strong. It sounded as small as a dust mite on Jupiter. 'It takes a few months to get and you have to be a citizen of the country that you get the passport for, and you have to have a number showing that you are a citizen, and a birth certificate, and a photograph, and you have to sign it, and…' she dropped the pen she had started fidgeting with, since Narn always drops things when she is nervous.

Beleg bent to pick it up, deeming it the polite/well-mannered/all-things-unlike-rude-disgusting-outlaws thing to do, and handed it back to her, a frown starting to re-form on his lips. 'So, what you are saying is that – it would be nigh on impossible?'

As she took the pen back from him, she nodded. 'Kittos,' she whispered automatically, but her voice was too quiet and caught back for anyone but those with the sharpest hearing to pick up on.

Fortunately for her, Beleg was one of those with the sharpest hearing. As he went back to stand by Túrin, he bowed his head in answer. She gave a faint smile.

Túrin was weighing the words in his head. 'So we will have to travel as toys in your luggage,’ he said.

‘We’ll suffocate,’ Andróg said.

'We do not need air to breathe as toys,' Túrin answered him, nearly gulping on the last word. 'And what would you have? That we are left here to become and remain toys for our whole lives over?' He placed his hand over Andróg's, but the other man pulled his hand away.

'This is madness.' Andróg stormed over to the window.

Beleg raised his eyebrows. 'You do not have to come.'

Narn sighed.

‘I’ll carry you in my purse, and I’ll let you look out the window, okay?’

Andróg did not say it was okay.

‘Okay,’ said Túrin. ‘Thank you.’

‘Good,’ Narn said. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

‘So… hmm. What do we do with you now?’ She didn’t like the idea of them wandering around for twenty-four hours getting into loads of trouble, committing a few murders or something. ‘Um,’ she said, and looked at the time. ‘You’ll get, um, plush soon. So you could come home in my backpack… I’ll let you look out my window.’ Narn sighed. Looking out windows seemed to be the only thing she could offer.

Túrin sighed.

‘All right,’ he agreed.

Chapter Text

'I will not speak softly: you may die on that road… But if you stay, you will come to a worse end…' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

There was a blinding light as Narn pulled off the cardigan she’d had draped over her purse on the ride to the airport. The airport was huge. Narn carried them through it. Beleg could still see, of course, as he jolted along in her purse.

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I think I’m going to, like, go straight through security, because I’ve already dropped off my suitcase.’

The plush toys smiled up at her.

'Not that you can answer.' Narn sighed and ran a hand through her hair, messing up her braid.

‘So I’m going to put you on the belt, and you’re going through the x-ray and it’s gonna feel scary, but it’s fine, and then I’ll see you again really, really soon,’ Narn said, like she was talking to children and not hardy woodmen. She put the cardigan over them again.

Beleg felt the purse placed on a moving line, and then he was moved upward along it through a machine. He wondered if Morgoth would use this time to interfere and have them separated from Narn, who seemed Not At All Evil. He would have shuddered if he wasn’t stuffed.

Narn collected the purse.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘That’s all done. And we have ninety minutes until the flight.’ She brought them to a big window looking out over a vast expanse of cement. Airplanes rolled across it. Orange lights shown down.

'Those are airplanes,' Narn told them. 'They're what we are flying on.' She sat down cross-legged next to them.' She tapped her fingers on her knees. 'They're pretty safe, in case you were worried. Um… I don't know what to say. I guess I could tell you a little about myself.' She blew breath out between her teeth. 'I don't like one-way conversations. Um… you know my name. You met my family. You saw my school. I want to, like, make stories.’

A plane idled slowly by. 'I did mention you are fiction here. That means that there's a book published about you. Everyone thinks it's fiction. But that's okay. It's cool to be characters from a book. I mean, you don't have to worry about it. Just don't tell anyone.

'I really don't have to talk. I think I'm going to read. You can think. Thinking's good.'

She reached for her carry-on before realizing she had put the book in her suitcase to make room for the plushies.

'Oh,' she said. 'I don't have my book.' She tapped her fingers against her knees again. ‘Hmm. I don’t know what you need to know and what you already know. I really need to talk to one of you.’ She sighed again. ‘I hope you’re not scared of flying. I don’t really know what it’s like. I haven’t flown since I was five. That’s when I was in Finland last. And I’ve never really been away from my sister at all. Though I have been away from the rest of them. My sister and I stayed for, like, a couple weeks with my uncle and aunt when we were little and our little brother was having a surgery.’ She paused. ‘Oh, you didn’t meet him. He’s dead now.’

She fixed Túrin’s hair. ‘I guess you get that.’ She rested her chin on her hands. ‘Sorry.’ She picked them them back up in the purse and grabbed her carry-on and walked them around the airport, pointing out whatever random modern things she could think of and fumbling through an explanation of electricity and airplanes.

Ninety minutes later they were boarding the plane. Narn silently found her seat and sat down.

'I have a window seat.' She buckled herself in and then arranged all of them on her lap so that they could look out the window. It was dark out.

After some time, the ground beneath them started moving. They were rushing along the runway, and then the ground was getting smaller. Lights hovered beneath them in a strip.

'Oh,' Narn said. She held them up closer to the window. Lights were sprawling beneath them in clusters that moved out like spider legs from the centre of light.

Slowly the lights faded away from beneath them, becoming scarcer and scarcer until there were none and only darkness lay beneath them.

The woman one seat away from Narn was soon snoring. People were nodding off to sleep all around them.

Narn placed the plush toys on the floor in front of her. She lay them out. 'You can sleep,' she told them. She glanced at her watch. 'I think we have time.'

Beleg found himself being lifted up, away from the others. Narn moved carefully past the sleeping woman and went to the small bathroom on the plane. She held Beleg at arm's length, and then kissed him and held him back out again. His legs dropped to the floor, and he was soon standing very close to Narn in the tiny bathroom. Narn dropped her hands down.

'Okay,' said Narn. 'I turned you back because you seemed the most reasonable.’

Beleg smiled. 'I wonder what gave you that impression.'

Narn smiled back. ‘I’m also really, really betting on that Elven ability to be invisible.’

Beleg nodded. ‘Understood.’

Narn put her hand on his arm to keep herself balanced as the plane jolted.

'There are lots of things that you need to learn,' she said. 'I don't have much time to teach you. I needed you to be ali…um…responding…so that you could ask questions.' She looked around. 'It's cramped in here. So, things. Humans here don't see Elves, so your ears are a bit of an oddity. As is your face, but sometimes people wear fake ears or have ears that pointy naturally, so that's not too much of a problem.'

Beleg nodded.

'You could try wearing makeup to downplay your good looks,' she said. 'Just a suggestion. All right, the sword isn't considered normal. Don't ask me if wearing it is legal or not; I have no idea.’

Beleg nodded. The sword had stayed plush.

The plane jolted again. Narn gripped him a bit tighter.

'You need to wash your hands before meals,' she said. 'You have to use money to buy stuff: you can't barter. You have to keep a low profile because you don't have any identification. You need to come up with fake names. What else?' She looked up at the plastic ceiling. 'Oh, do you have any questions for me so far?'

'How do we get money?' Beleg said.

'Normally you have to work for it,' she said. 'But you kind of need identification for that. Are any of you brilliant at forging fake money?'

Beleg shook his head.

'Damn.' She sighed. 'Okay. Here.' She reached into her purse and pulled out a plastic card. She held it up for him to see. 'This is my debit card. It allows you to withdraw money from my bank account. You need to use this for food and emergencies.' She handed him the card. 'To use it you can go to an ATM or use it at a store checkout. You swipe the card and then enter the pin number.' She got out a piece of paper and wrote down the pin number. 'Memorize this and then destroy the paper.'

Beleg took the paper and memorized the pin in a couple of seconds. 'Okay,' he said, and then tore the paper, wet it, and put it in the small trash.

'There is a limit on the amount of money in that bank account,' she said. 'You can't go over it because they'll fine you, but it should be enough to keep you alive. You’ll probably have to sign for it too since we’re in another country than the bank. My signature is on the back. Try to copy it the best you can, I guess.’

Beleg placed the card carefully in one of the inner pockets of his shirt. 'Thank-you,' he said. 'Although you must know that I do not hold you responsible for our fate.'

Narn sighed. 'You might not, but I do. I am a very, very, very responsible person.'

The plane jolted again. Beleg held himself steady easily, swaying with the jolting. 'Indeed,' he said, 'you must be.'

'Are you responsible?' she asked.

'Yes, I try my best to be.'

'Is Túrin responsible?'

'I think,' said Beleg, 'that you are already aware of the answer to that question.'

She nodded. 'Well, you take care of that card then.'

There was a knock on the door.

'Occupied!' Narn called quickly. 'Okay,' she whispered. 'Someone's outside the door, so we have to be quiet. Are there any other questions you have right now?'

'None of grave importance,' he answered.

'All right.' She nodded. 'We ought to go then. We don’t want someone calling the flight attendant on us for having…’

‘Oh,’ Beleg said, and he raised his eyebrow.

‘Yeah,’ Narn said. She washed her hands, and Beleg followed suit.

'Okay,' she said and opened the door.

Beleg followed her out past an old woman who gave them a disapproving frown.

'Sorry,' Narn said.

She slid back into her seat, and Beleg sat down in the previously unoccupied seat next to her.

'And you are sure you can do that Elvish thing of willing yourself not to be seen, right?' she said.

Beleg nodded.

'Okay, good. If someone looks this way, do that.' She leaned back against the seat and buckled herself in.

Beleg bent down and lifted the Túrin toy carefully from the floor. He cradled him in his arms.

Narn took out a pair of ear buds from her purse. 'Do you want to watch a movie?' she asked. 'Or do you have more questions? No, you know what? We still have five hours. Watching a movie will actually give you a better idea about the world, so we'll do that.'

Beleg watched as she tapped the seat in front of them to select a movie. He looked back down at the toy that his friend was trapped as. He wondered if he was sleeping, and if he was well. He stroked his soft hair.

'Not action because that's unrealistic,' Narn was murmuring. 'Not horror because…no. Crime, maybe. Not sci-fi. History, no. Not cartoons. A documentary might work, but there's nothing here about people. I could use a romance. That's usually more about regular life.'

Beleg guessed quite rightly that she was talking about what type of movie to watch. Little did he know that she was deciding to make him watch a romantic comedy, which, while being unrealistic, focused a great deal on modern people using their modern things. He did not know that the idea for using a romantic comedy as a learning tool was laughable.

But Narn had never been phased by other people's notions of what was educational or not, so picking out a romantic comedy she was. This would cover lots of important aspects of modern life: food consumption, cell phones, television, transportation, purchasing clothing, relationships, jobs, possibly schooling.

'We're watching My Best Friend's Wedding,' she announced. 'Here.' She put one of the ear buds in Beleg's left ear and put the other in her right ear.

Beleg watched the screen on the back of the chair. The movie was now playing. It had women in long dresses singing about how to win over a man.

'Is winning a man an important aspect of your culture?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Narn. 'People are always complaining about being "single", which means that they don't have a romantic partner.'

'Are women considered failures if they are not married?' he asked.

'No and unfortunately yes. Marriage is a big expectation, but if a woman is successful in another aspect of life, then she would not be considered a failure.'

'Are you in a relationship?'

'No, I am not, and I never have been, but it doesn't bother me.'

'Is that considered a rude question to ask?'

'It's usually only something you ask if you are someone's friend or relative or if you are interested in being in a relationship with the person you ask.'

The next scene had a kitchen and people eating.

'What's that?' Beleg asked.

'It's a restaurant. The chefs cook the food, and the customers buy and consume it. That is a waiter. He brings the food to the customers.'

'Why is she important?' he asked, nodding at the woman eating at the restaurant who had curly red hair.

'She is a food critic. She will give the restaurant a bad or good review, which can help or harm its business.'

'Ah.'

By the time the movie was over, Beleg was sure he had worn Narn out with his questions. She was nodding tiredly.

'Jell-o is a desert made by using gelatine to solidify water, juice, and sugar. Crème brûlée is a desert made from eggs, sugar, and cream. It has a layer of crystallized sugar over it.’

'Can we wake Túrin up?'

'No.'

'Are you going to go to sleep?'

'No, I can't. I'm too light of a sleeper.'

'What if I said I would guard you?'

Narn laughed lightly. 'I still couldn't sleep.'

The plane hummed. Beleg looked out the window. There was a touch of colour on the horizon.

'Do I get to be real on the next flight?' he asked.

'No,' she said. 'It's only three hours.'

Beleg nodded. ‘All right.’

A flight attendant passed by them, and Beleg willed himself not to be seen. She didn’t look twice in their direction.

‘Thank goodness,’ Narn whispered.

Beleg smiled.

Chapter Text

And at once he led them away out of that country. – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin.

They spent the rest of the flight exchanging information about the culture of the world. Beleg absorbed all the information quickly, hoping that Túrin was conscious and learning as well.

Narn looked out the window. 'Look,' she said.

The plane was sweeping over an island. The land lay green and brown below them coming up out of a blue sea. The waves rippled. Beleg thought of jell-o. He wondered if it looked like that.

The plane veered sharply to the right; his stomach lurched. Narn fell against him. People around them were waking.

Suddenly Narn looked down at her watch in alarm. 'We're landing,' she said. 'But you have another hour. I must have miscalculated somehow.' She frowned and looked at the screen in front of them. ‘We’re landing early.’

They plane became straight again, and then turned back to the right. The right wing was pointing down towards the land. Beleg's ears popped. He held the Túrin toy tightly.

'We should be fine, though,' Narn said. 'They aren't going to check your passport or boarding pass or anything when you get off. I hope. Just don’t, like, draw attention yourself.’

The woman beside them woke up, and Beleg willed himself not be noticed. Nothing came of it, and they were soon getting off the plane, jolting and bumping against other passengers as they made their way down the aisle.

They went out through a long tunnel with windows that made Beleg feel like he was trapped in a cave and out into a building shine brightly with light coming in from many windows. There were pictures on the walls. Beleg looked out the window at the brown land and the mountains rising on the horizon.

'It looks like home,' he said.

Narn nodded, but she was looking ahead with worry. 'They're going to stamp our passports,' she said.

'I do not have a passport,' said Beleg.

'I know,' she said. She looked at him. 'You have brown hair. Well, brownish.'

She tilted her head, examining his silver-brown hair.

Beleg frowned. 'So?'

She held up her passport. 'They stamp it for me. I drop it on the floor and kick it back to you, okay?'

Beleg frowned.

'But in the direction of another passport stamper.'

Beleg looked at the three booths. They had an edge over the counter blocking the view of the floor.

'You go to other stamper, and you act like you drop your passport. But you really drop this.' She took out an address book from her purse. 'Pick up the passport I kicked out you, and use that.'

'I could not pass for you,' Beleg said with a laugh.

Narn pulled him into a woman’s bathroom and quickly into a stall. She closed the door and then the toilet lid. 'Sit down.'

Beleg sat down. Narn took out the hair tie from her hair and pulled his hair up on top of his head. She twisted it around a couple times and tucked it under into a messy topknot. Then she took off her coat. It was cream coloured and had little ruffles on the front. She pulled that over his shoulders. It barely fit.

She opened her purse and pulled out some make-up. She dabbed lipstick on his cheeks and rubbed it on with her fingers and then drew the lipstick over his lips.

‘Go, ba ba,’ she said, popping her lips.

Beleg went ba ba.

Narn added a coat of lip gloss, purple eye shadow, and mascara. She pulled his hair down and framed it around his face.

'There,' she said. 'They see a million people every day. Do your inconspicuous Elvish thing.’

Beleg shrugged. This really seemed to be the worst idea he had heard since Túrin had told him he wasn't going to eat vegetables because they made him sick and suppressed his immune system.

'Yay,' Narn said. ‘All right, use your magic, because I have another flight I have to catch in less than an hour now, so we have to get through this.

Beleg nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll use my magic.’

Narn smiled.

Narn went first. Her passport was stamped, and she walked through the gate, dropping her passport behind her and kicking it backwards with her foot to the right. It lay on the floor, the gold on the cover gleaming upwards.

Beleg stepped up to the booth.

'Passport.'

Beleg reached into his pocket for the address book. He dropped it and then bent and picked up the passport. He picked up the address book too since he thought it would be inconsiderate to lose it, and Beleg was very adamant about being considerate – especially when it would make him look better than the outlaws.

He put the passport down on the counter. The border control attendant opened it and glanced at the picture. He then opened it at random in the middle and stamped it.

Bam.

He pushed it back at Beleg.

'I hope you had a good flight.'

Beleg hurried through the gate and found Narn. She took her passport back and looked at her watch.

'We're safe for a while still,' she said. 'But that was probably the worst idea of my life. If we’d been caught...’ She looked around, shook her head.

Beleg nodded. He agreed, but he didn’t say anything. He walked beside her as they made their way through the airport to the next gate.

Narn found a bench by a window and set the plush toys on it facing the window so that they could enjoy the view. Looking out windows seemed very important to her.

‘You’ll turn back soon,’ she said. ‘Which is good, because they’re starting to board already. Luckily, we’re not first class.’ She flashed him a smile.

Beleg smiled back and sat down next to her. He put Túrin on his lap. 'After this flight, we only have a car ride, and then we will be at the house of her uncle. We shall see where the road takes us thence.'

He stared out at the fields and mountains until his body started to feel funny, like his insides were turning to cotton, which they probably were. (Actually, they were turning to polyester, but small technicalities like that are only worth mentioning in parentheses.)

'Narn,' he said. 'I am changing.'

Narn hurried him to the ladies' room and had barely pulled him into a stall before his legs were shrinking and his hands freezing, and everything about him was soft. Narn picked him up.

'Okay,' she said. 'This shouldn't be that long. I promise.'

Chapter Text

'Is it farewell, then, son of Húrin?' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

'That wasn't long? Are you stupid, joking, or a liar?' Andróg glared at the maid who had dragged them through hell. She must be in league with evil. Sauron and she were probably conspirators. After all, she had some power over the curse.

'You got to watch the ocean,' Narn said, as if being arranged to look out over the sea and the lands they were flying over somehow made up for all they had been put through.

Andróg frowned and rubbed his back. He noticed a new bruise starting up on his arm. 'That is hardly payment for our endurances.'

'I could have left you as toy at home to be eaten by my dog.'

'Andróg, be quiet,' Túrin said. He turned to Narn. 'We are still indebted to you.'

Andróg scowled. They were in Finland now, wherever that was and whyever they had to be there. The girl wanted to drag them halfway across the earth it seemed. There was probably some cruel fate waiting for them from here.

He frowned at the tall trees and the blue and white sky. A bird sung somewhere nearby, and he could make out the rumble of those…car things…that everyone liked to travel around in. Well, that did make sense. After all, they were faster and warmer than horses. He had ridden in one while still a…he tried not to think of the word, for the very idea that he had been a toy made him shiver all over. Even from inside the purse, he could tell that they had travelled many miles in that car.

That girl was smiling at them as if the best thing in the world had just happened. He groaned slightly and turned away. They were standing on a dirt path that ran through a small wood. He could see a field in front of him filled with small gardens and a few people milling about with gardening tools, hot in the spring sun.

'Hmm,' Mîm grunted; he was standing quite close to Andróg, but he stepped away before the man had a chance to. Andróg glared down at him and stepped closer to Túrin, who also looked dazed.

'Well, I hope you'll like it here,' the girl said, nodding firmly and taking a step away from them. 'And I hope you remember what I taught you. There's a city that way.' She pointed vaguely behind her. 'Some sort of store that way.' She pointed vaguely to her right. 'And…well, there's not really that much else that I know about.' She shrugged and took another step away. 'But you like wandering, I'd presume?'

'Rather,' Túrin said, a little dryly. He scratched at his neck where his beard was growing back in.

'I'm so happy to hear that.' She looked around her again and sighed contentedly. 'Well, I’ll see you around here in six hours, right? And you can get food from the store. You must be hungry. Don’t go too far, unless you manage to find someone else to kiss you, I suppose, but that doesn’t seem likely.’

'I do not understand why we must be kissed so often, or why it was a kiss that our enemy proclaimed as the cure for our state and our misfortune.' Túrin sighed heavily.

Andróg nodded his agreement to his captain and folded his arms. It did not seem like something that a dark lord would think of. The only reason he could imagine that it would be the requirement was that it was so very hard to find someone willing to kiss you.

'I don't know either,' the girl said. 'Kisses come up a lot in fairy tales to break curses, but why Sauron or Morgoth would demand that…' She did not smile after that.

She handed Beleg a phone. ‘If you get lost, call me. Keep this with you at all times. I can trace you with it.’

Beleg took the black Nokia phone. Narn showed him where a number was stored in the phone and gave him the same number on a paper.

‘If anything happens, call me.’

'We thank-you again for your kindness to us,' Túrin said, and Andróg managed to stifle his sigh. 'We shall meet you soon then.' He bowed and ushered his companions on down the path.

'Wait!' Narn called after them, rushing up behind them. 'I forgot: Can you speak Finnish?

They stopped and turned back to her.

'Finnish?' Beleg repeated.

She nodded. 'The language of Finland. Finnish, Suomi.' Biting her lip, she thought for a moment. 'Minun nimeni on Narn.'

'Sinun nimesi on Narn?' Túrin said coolly. 'Tiedan.'

Narn's face fell. She looked absolutely indignant. 'Koira.'

'Dog.' Túrin said in English.

'Cat.'

'Kissa.'

'Tuo on puu.'

'That is a tree.'

'The sky is blue.'

'Taivas on sininen.'

'You know it.'

'I would presume so,' Túrin said softly, looking not in the least proud of his accomplishment.

'So you mean that you know, without studying, my mother's language which I have been trying to learn for the past forever?'

Túrin looked to Beleg before answering. 'I suppose that is what I must believe.'

Narn waved her hand at the others. 'And you?'

'I understood everything that you were saying,' Andróg said smugly. Beleg and even Mîm nodded their understanding.

She looked dejected and muttered something pointless about life not being fair. 'I guess you'll do fine then.' And with that, she turned away and walked back down the small path, only pausing once to turn back and warn them to look out for nettles. And then, she was gone.

Andróg sighed with relief. 'We're free,' he said, stretching his hands above his head. He gave a grunt as his back stretched from its cramp and swung his arms heartily.

'But we are still bound to that maid,' Túrin said solemnly.

'Oh, Túrin. Forget her.' Andróg pointed to the fields were the people were working. 'There is farmland and forest. A city nearby. What more could we ask for?'

'Freedom from a curse?'

Andróg started to answer, but was quickly interrupted. A person on a very strange two-wheeled vehicle resembling a cross between one of those metal automobiles and a very small pony whisked past them, sending a breeze with it. Andróg stepped away from it, colliding into Túrin. Another zipped by.

'Polkupyörät' Túrin said after a moment. 'Hmm.'

'Where then are we going?' Andróg asked as he trudged along beside Túrin. They were walking on the side of the main road, where cars drove. This road was not made of dirt but of hard pavement. They walked on pavement as well, closer to the houses, while polkupyörät whisked happily by them, also on the sidewalk, but in a different lane, closer to the automobiles.

'To the city.' Túrin touched the hilt of his sword. He’d decided to wear it, even if Beleg wouldn’t. 'She said it was in this direction.'

Mîm made a slight grunt of disproval. Andróg felt fairly certain that Mîm was going to make a run for it sometime. It was not as if the dwarf wanted to stay with them. And there was really nothing about the cars or the city that would appeal to him. Andróg kept a close eye on him. He thought that it would be a very good deed to chase him back before Túrin (preferably on his knees) when the dwarf did make a bolt. Mîm glared at him again.

Túrin was examining the sidewalk and the surrounding area in turn as they walked, keeping up a brisk pace. 'Is this then the city?' He asked Beleg as they neared what appeared to be a cluster of shops. He pointed a finger to a low building with S-market written on it. 'That is a market.'

'I believe, from what I have heard, that the city we are approaching is larger.' Beleg frowned at the buildings thoughtfully.

'We shall then go on,' Túrin decided. 'For I wish to see what measure of land we are now in, and I desire also to know who rules it and if there is anyone good and wise, skilled in magic, who we can entrust our secret to in the hopes that there is a way to return to that good land we call our home.'

And so they walked. It was not as if Andróg did not like walking (he was, in fact, very good at it from many, many years of being a despised, walking outlaw), but he did not particularly like to walk where they were walking. With Beleg and Mîm. It was not the endless rows of houses that he minded or the whir of the buses as they went by that bothered him. It was the constant jostle of Beleg's arm against his or Mîm's shoulder against his hand that irked him. It was how ridiculously out of place they looked as they strolled down the streets. It was how Túrin's sword and Beleg’s bow kept getting strange glances. They did not belong.

'We cannot go to farther, Túrin, until we have found someone who will kiss us. Or else we will be lost,' Beleg whispered.

'I know that, Beleg. And yet I would go as far as I could. Perhaps we shall find someone in our wanderings. I still have hope that we shall discover a being whose power can return us to our previous state.'

'Five hours will soon be passed,' Beleg warned Túrin. They were still walking. They were in the part of the city that had taller buildings, older ones that were more beautiful. ‘We should have turned back long ago.’

'Call Narn,’ Túrin said. ‘She can still find us with the phone.’

Beleg looked around at the people. ‘But we won’t be safe when we are toys.’

‘Why?’ Túrin said. ‘What will happen?’

'In all likelihood some pedestrian would take us home, mistaking us for toys,' Andróg grumbled.

'Actually, we would be toys,' Beleg said.

Andróg glared at him. 'I have never been a toy in my life. Although I am quite certain that you might be called a toy.’

'Andróg.' Túrin's look said more than a hundred words could. 'Enough of that.'

Digging his hands sullenly in his pockets, Andróg curled his lip at Túrin's back. He muttered a curse as a bus rumbled past them.

'Túrin, our time is almost spent.'

Beleg could be damn relentless when he wanted to be.

'I know. What would you have me do about it?'

'Something…'

'Why do we not ask the next passing woman for a kiss?' Andróg suggested.

Beleg scoffed. 'And do you think a woman who knows us not would kiss one of us just at our asking?'

'I didn't say just one of us,' Andróg muttered. 'I was hoping she could do the whole lot.'

'I believe that you will find yourself an outlaw here if you solicit a stranger for a kiss,' Túrin said. 'I do not think, from what Narn told us about this land, that it would be a wise move.'

'So what do we do, Túrin?' Beleg said. 'We have thirteen minutes and no way of saving ourselves.'

'We should not have gone so far,' Mîm said, speaking up for the first time in a couple of hours. 'That,' he wrinkled his nose, 'human won't be able to find us out here.'

Beleg dialled the number Narn had given him.

‘Hello?’ Narn said.

‘Hello,’ Beleg replied in greeting. He tried not to feel foolish. ‘We have a problem.’

‘What is it?’ Narn’s voice was distant over the phone, but he could tell she was worried.

'We have twelve minutes.’

‘Where are you?’

‘We’re by a train station,’ Beleg said. ‘With statues of men bearing lanterns.’

Narn cursed. ‘Why did you go so far?’

‘We were looking for a magician who could break our curse,’ Beleg said, glaring at Túrin.

‘Find somewhere to hide,’ Narn said. ‘Quickly. Oh, this isn’t good. Like somewhere under a bush in a park… Somewhere people don’t look. And keep the phone on and with you. Please. I don’t have time to reach you.’

Beleg licked his lip.

‘Or get someone to kiss you!’ Narn said. ‘You’re very pretty. I wish it would work with each other. Oh! You should have called earlier.’

Beleg looked around. Get someone to kiss them. He was pretty. So was Túrin. Beleg grabbed Túrin by the shoulder.

'Beleg, what are you…'

'Hello, miss,' said Beleg to a woman walking by with a smile so dazzling that Andróg was sure even he would have kissed the elf had he asked. 'I was wondering if you might do me a favour. You see, my friend here.' Beleg gave Túrin a cute, little pout. 'Has never been kissed. And I thought what a sad life he must have. And I was wondering, if I could take a steal a moment of your time, you might steal a kiss from him.' He fluttered his lashes adorably. 'Hmm?'

The elf must have cast a wicked spell on the grey-eyed woman because she gave Túrin a quick peck on the lips with a laugh.
'Thank-you,' Beleg said sweetly. And she kissed him too. Without him asking. Beleg bowed and turned away. He smiled at Andróg. ‘I don’t think I could get anyone to kiss you though.’

‘Try.’

‘No,’ Beleg said.

'What do you plan to to help me?'

'And Mîm?' Beleg said.

Andróg hesitated. 'If you want to do something for him.'

'Nothing.' Beleg continued to walk.

'What do you mean nothing?'

'I mean nothing. You have seven minutes. When they're up, we'll carry you. Narn can kiss you awake after that.' Beleg lifted the phone up again and called Narn. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I handled it.’

'What do you mean, you Elvish sneak?' Mîm growled. ‘That you’re going to let us be toys forever now?’

'Right,' Beleg said. 'You can be real again when we see Narn. Túrin would agree with me on that.’

They all looked at Túrin. He was standing in shock.

'What's the matter with him?' Andróg demanded.

Beleg shrugged for a third time, and his eyes sparkled. 'He's never been kissed before.'

Chapter Text

"Nonetheless he would not wholly leave deeds of war;" – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Túrin picked Mîm – plush again – off the sidewalk and tucked him carefully under his arm. He let out a sigh. 'Well, we are set for those twenty-four hours again,' he said. He looked at Beleg. 'Thank-you for that.'

Beleg nodded coolly and lifted up the toy version of Andróg. 'He looks cuter like this,' he said.

Túrin rolled his eyes and continued walking. He felt the sword swing at his side and was grateful that Beleg had let him carry it, even if it was Beleg's. He felt safer with a sword.

'I wonder what the others think of us,' Beleg said. 'Do you think that they might believe we are very strange here?'

'Most likely.' Túrin looked around again. 'We dress nothing like these people, and I do not see weapons on them. It is a very different society than those that we have known.'

They walked through a small park, and came to the harbour. It was a small harbour with grey stone and a few boats, a couple of ships, and people walking about, mostly silent.

Túrin surveyed the area. It looked very much like what he would have imagined a harbour city to be. A boat made its way to a docking area, and he watched as people boarded it.

'Beleg,' he said. 'Is this then the ocean?'

Beleg nodded. 'Yes, indeed, Túrin,' he said. 'It is the ocean.' He looked down at the waves lapping against what seemed to be the side of the street. It was like a square that just disappeared into the water, straight down. Túrin looked down with him. '

‘Come,’ he said. ‘We must find who rules here and see what magicians they might know.’

He froze as Andróg fell. Beleg gasped and then dropped to his knees, reaching down to retrieve the toy – the man. He bobbed in the water out of reach, that persistent smile on his face, but he was getting heavier as the water leached into his plush skin. The smiling face was slowly going under.

'He is going to drown! What have you done?' Túrin cried as Beleg reached out another time.

Beleg did not answer him. The Andróg-toy was sinking quickly now. Beleg jumped off the stone and into the ocean. He went under and came back up again.

'He is there!' Túrin said, pointing.

Quickly Beleg snatched the Andróg toy from the waves. He swam back towards Túrin and pushed Toy-Andróg up to him. Túrin dropped to his stomach to grab it. He threw it down beside him and reached his hand down to Beleg. Beleg grabbed his hand. Túrin dragged him up and rolled him onto the ground beside him.

'What happened?' he gasped, ignoring the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered.

'The wind,' Beleg said. 'I'm sorry. It knocked him out of my arms.'

Túrin looked down at the soggy toy beside him. 'He wasn't under long enough to drown,' he said.

'We don’t breath as toys, do you think that he could drown in that state?'

'I do not know. It is better to take precautions.' He stood up again. 'Besides, he could have been lost at the bottom of the sea. How deep do you think it is?'

Beleg looked down at the water. 'I could not say. It is deep enough.'

Without another word, Túrin gathered the soaked Andróg-toy into his arms and started across the square towards the buildings on the other side. Beleg followed him, empty-armed. Túrin brushed past the bystanders as quickly as he could, not meeting their eyes.

This square seemed like a place where you would have a good market. There were even a few people selling things. He wondered if it would be a good idea to ask them about whoever ruled the land and if there were any great wizards known. Perhaps it was just best to make to the building that had caught his eye.

'Beleg,' he said, turning to the elf, who was starting to fall behind. 'Behold! there is a building of great might and majesty.' He pointed with his hand to a tall white building with blue domes touched by gold that towered above the others. 'This may be the palace.’

They made their way to the palace and went up the many steps to the entrance. Other people were milling in and out of the building. Cautiously, and still holding their toy-friends against them, they stepped in. There were many benches facing the front, and candles glowing in a dome to their right, but there was no king to be seen. A few people sat on the benches, and all around there was silence broken only by an occasional whisper.

Túrin and Beleg sat down on one of the benches and looked around. The building was constructed very well. Every part of it was ornate, and there was a huge instrument of pipes that looked like some overgrown flute. Túrin felt strangely uncomfortable there; it was as if everyone about him knew something that he did not. He coughed into his fist and looked around. Right. Beleg was soaking wet, he was wearing a sword, and he was carrying toys. What everyone else knew was that he and Beleg simply did not belong there.

'We must needs ask someone about what this place is,' he whispered against Beleg's ear. He smelt salty.

'Excuse me,' Beleg said to the dark haired couple across from them. 'What is this place?'

The man and the woman exchanged nervous glances, but they said nothing.

'I think that we are too strange at present to be given answer to our questions,' Beleg whispered to Túrin.

He nodded, and they quietly left the building.

'Come on,' said Túrin. 'Let us find some place for you to dry, and we can then discuss what we need to do.'

It took them sometime to find a comfortable enough nook to stay for a while. It was a staircase leading down under the street to a locked door. It was not too far from the "palace" and it offered some shelter from the biting wind. Slowly Beleg dried off, but Andróg-toy only seemed to be getting wetter (although that was probably just skewed perception.) Finally they climbed back out onto the street ready to face their problems all over again.

Two hours of aimless wandering brought them no closer to a solution. They tried to examine every important looking building that they could find, finally learning that quite a few of these ornate places were "churches" and "cathedrals." There seemed to be no palace to find.

Growing frustrated, Túrin turned to Beleg. 'Why do you not ask that stranger,' he nodded towards a man passing by, 'where we can find the king of this land?'

'Why do you not ask him?' Beleg asked.

'You are better with people, my friend.'

'Fine.' Beleg sighed. 'Excuse me, sir?'

The man stopped and turned to them. He smiled. 'I don't speak Finnish,' he said in English.

'Ah, you speak English though?' Beleg said, switching to English.

'Yeah,' the man smiled again.

'Well, I have a question, if you would be willing to answer?'

'Um, sure,' the man said.

'Do you know where the king of this land lives?'

'Oh, Finland doesn't have a king,' the man said. 'It's got a president.'

'A president?'

'Yeah. Sweden's got a king though.'

Sweden. Sweden. Túrin thought to himself. Oh, yes. He remembered it from the map that Narn had shown them. It was a country bordering Finland.

'Thank-you,' Beleg said. 'Do you know where this president lives?'

'Um.' The man blew air from his cheeks. 'Somewhere in this city, I think. I don't know where. I'm just visiting.'

'Thank-you,' Beleg said again. 'And…what exactly is a president?'

The man crinkled his brow, and his brown eyes narrowed. 'It's…um, it's…is this a joke?'

Beleg shook his head solemnly.

'It's a political leader elected by the people with some power over the country.’

Beleg nodded solemnly. 'I see. One last thing, do you know if this country has any great wizards?'

The man started to laugh, then he looked at their serious faces and stopped laughing. 'You're joking.'

Beleg shook his head.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ the man said. ‘I don’t give permission to be used in your youtube video.’

‘Youtube video?’ Beleg said.

‘Grow up,’ the man said. ‘Stop acting crazy.’

No one called Beleg crazy. In a flash, Túrin had drawn his sword. The plush-toys fell to the ground in a pile. 'Take that back.'

The man took a step back. 'You're both crazy.'

'Túrin, put that sword away. Now.' Beleg said. He placed a hand on Túrin's wrist.

'I'm going to call the police,' the man said, reaching into his pocket.

Túrin sheathed the sword, and Beleg gathered the plush toys up. 'Let us go,' he said.

They ran.

'You did what?' Narn pinched the bridge of her nose and then rubbed her face against her fist. 'You did what?'

They had gone back to meet Narn in the woods where she had left them.

'He called Beleg crazy, so I drew my sword on him,' Túrin repeated.

Narn took a few sharp breaths in. 'I'm not usually angry,' she said. 'But…' She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Give me the sword.'

'What?'

'Give. The. Sword. To. Me.' She held her hand out. 'Now.'

Túrin reluctantly handed it over. She nearly dropped it.

'Ah! This is heavy.' She lay it down on the grass near her. 'Now I'm not going to kiss you,' she said. 'You're all going home with me, and you're going to stay in my suitcase and be good.' She folded her arms.

Túrin stood there uncomfortably. It was awkward being scolded by a tiny girl. 'But,' he said. 'We have to go to Sweden.'

She looked up at him. 'What?'

'We have to go to Sweden.'

'Why do you have to go to Sweden?'

'They have a king,' Beleg said. 'We must talk to him.'

She sighed. 'And you think he would talk to you.'

'We would beg for audience,' Beleg said.

'That's a fine way to get arrested. That and drawing swords on people!' She gave them another sharp look.

'Please, we must go.'

'Why don't you go to Norway or Denmark? They have kings. Or you could go to England to see the queen…or the Netherlands. Or you could just practice not being stupid!'

Túrin crossed his arms.

'I hope you turn plush,' Narn said. 'I'm not kissing you.'

'But…'

'What if he files a police report! They could be looking for you! You can't go do stupid things like that.'

'I'm not stupid,' Túrin said.

'I'm sure you aren't,' she said. 'Just incredibly, horribly, terribly, male.'

'There's no need to bring sex into this,' Túrin said.

'There is. Men are all the same.’

Beleg hid a smile behind his hand.

'How stupid are you! Drawing a sword in public.' Narn glared at Túrin.

Túrin glared back.

'I got an email today,’ Narn said.

'Is this somehow important?' Túrin asked.

'Only if you consider Sauron important,' she said.

They both looked at her.

'Sauron?' Túrin said.

'Yes, Morgoth's little underling.'

'What does it say?' Túrin demanded.

'It said:

Dear Narn,

Just writing to let you know that Morgoth changed his mind. I'll be dropping by soon for a little chat. Toodle-loo until I see you soon.

Heart, Sauron.'

'Heart?' Túrin said.

'It means love.'

'Ah,' Túrin said. ‘Are you in league with him?’

‘No,’ Narn said. ‘I think he was just doing it to be annoying.’ She handed them a bag. ‘Here is some dinner and breakfast. It’s warm enough that you can sleep outside, so find a nice place in the woods, stay low, and don’t get into trouble.’

‘Agreed,’ said Beleg.

‘I’ll try to find out if anyone is looking for you for drawing a sword! A sword! on a man,’ Narn said. ‘And I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘All right,’ Túrin said.

Narn sighed, muttering something under her breath about ‘lots of trouble in twenty-four hours.’

‘We won’t talk to anyone,’ Beleg assured her.

Narn nodded. ‘Good. Call me if something comes up. We’ll sort this out tomorrow once I have more information.’ She lifted the sword and carried it off away from them, leaving them in the woods again.

They went deeper into it and found a place to sleep beneath some low trees. Túrin drew Beleg close to him. He held the Andróg and Mîm plushies close as well.

‘I see now,’ Túrin said. ‘How easily we can be destroyed. We have no hope but to trust her.’ He touched the place where Beleg’s sword had been.

Beleg pressed his face to Túrin’s arm. ‘Mmm.’

Chapter Text

"for Men proved in this matter as in others the readiest to his will." – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Sauron looked at the door, trying to find a doorbell on it somewhere. He couldn't, so he knocked. There was no answer. Tentatively, he turned the handle. The door was locked. Frowning, he muttered a couple words under his breath, and the next moment, the dark brown door swung inwards onto a small white hall.

'Hello?' he called.

There was still no answer, so he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. There was a closet to his left, shoes to his right, and two staircases in front of him – a long one going down and a short one going up. The short staircase was blocked on top by a baby gate.

'Hello,' he called out again, hearing a noise from somewhere behind the baby gate. 'It's me, Sauron.'

He started up the small staircase and swung himself easily over the baby gate. 'Narn, where are you?'

'In the kitchen,' Narn said. 'Feeding the baby.'

He walked down the short (white) corridor into a (also white) living room that was separated from the (very white) kitchen by a solitary (white) wall open on both ends.

'Is this what they call modern architecture?' he asked, waving a hand around at the high ceilings and large windows.

'I guess,' Narn said. She did not look too happy at the moment. She was sitting at the table next to a little blonde baby in a highchair and was holding a spoon filled with some sort of orange mush. The baby was crying. 'Won't you sit down?' Narn waved vaguely in the direction of the living room and then at the table. 'Anywhere is fine.'

Sauron sat down on the chair behind her. He had always found that this tended to unnerve people, and unnerving a person was exactly what he was supposed to be doing at the moment. Sure enough, he saw goosebumps rise on her bare arms. She swivelled in her chair to look at him, but quickly turned back to the crying baby. Unnerved she was.

'That is not a fine place to sit,' Narn said.

'But I want to sit here,' Sauron replied smoothly. He leaned back and stretched and yawned. 'You told me I could sit anywhere.'

'Yeah…' Narn wiped the baby's mouth with a napkin and picked up the remote control of the television.

Sauron glanced towards it, mildly interested, as she lowered the volume. 'She likes Teletubbies,' Narn said.

'I'm sure she does,' Sauron said.

Narn did not look at him; she looked towards the screen where colourful chubby things resembling mice crossed with humans were stumbling upon the grass with a large ball.

'You said you wanted to talk?' she put the spoon into the baby's mouth and pulled it out again, wiped away the dribble of food on the baby's chin with the side of the spoon, filled the spoon once again, and waited.

'So you did get my email?' Sauron asked, inching his chair closer to her.

'Yes.' She stiffened further.

'Good. I was a little afraid that I might have gotten the wrong email address since you didn’t write back.' He smiled. 'So you know why I'm here then?'

'You said that Morgoth changed his mind, yes, I remember.' She put the spoon down as the baby started crying again.

'Am I scaring her?' he asked.

'Rather.'

'Mind introducing me?'

Narn paused. 'Do I mind…introducing…my baby cousin to one of the most evil beings in all of creation?' She paused again and shook her head. 'Fine. Sauron, this is Lilja, who wants to take a nap soon. Lilja, this is Sauron, who wants to enslave the world and see to it personally that every living creature on it suffers.'

Lilja looked at Sauron with very suspicious, very blue eyes.

'She's a charmer,' Sauron said.

Lilja started wailing.

'Haha.' Narn lifted her out of the highchair and, brushing past Sauron, went to wipe the baby's face off at the sink.

'Saying out loud the phonetic pronunciation of the syllables designed to indicate laughter in writing does not reflect well upon the actual amusement of the utterer,' Sauron mused, getting up and following her to the sink.

'The actual amusement might be quite low then.' Narn picked up a tube of lotion and applied it a little of it to her cousin's cheeks. 'It prevents rash,' she told him as he picked up the discarded tube. She put the baby down on the carpet amid a mess of toys in the living room area and then went to take care of the used dishes.

Sauron sat down on the red chair in the living room and watched Lilja chew a book.

'I've been watching you,' he called to the kitchen. 'Spying, I suppose you would call it. You have been sick…'

'I'm getting over it.' She clanged the plate into the dishwasher.

'You fainted…'

'First time in my life, and I don't see what this has got to do with anything.' She banged the dishwasher door shut.

'Humans are weak,' Sauron said.

'Sure.' She came back into the living room and stood firmly by the piano, arms folded.

'Where are they?' he demanded.

'Where are who?'

'Túrin and the others: Where are they?'

'I don't know.'

'They were in your care,' Sauron said.

'I lost them.' Narn looked straight at him, annoyed now, like she thought she had some sort of power over him just because she was standing. ‘Like you said, humans are weak.’

'You lost them?'

'I told them not to go too far, but I don't think they listened to me. They never showed up again after the second day, and I've been looking for them ever since, but I haven't found them. I'm assuming that someone brought them home, they were thrown in the garbage, or they tried to find somewhere to hide in the woods and are still lost there, toys now. At any rate, they're gone.'

'That's a lot of things to assume.'

'There are a lot of ways they could have gone missing.'

'You lie well.'

'What makes you think that?'

Sauron smirked instead of answering. That also tended to unnerve people. 'Why don't you sit down? You look so tense standing there. Besides, we don't want you fainting again.'

'I'm fine.' Narn bent to pick up Lilja who had crawled over to her and was holding her arms up to her. She settled the baby against her hip and they both watched Sauron sullenly.

'I'm growing impatient, Narn.' Sauron stood up as well and took a few steps towards them. 'As I told you, I have been spying on you, but I have seen no sign of them. Now, as you may have guessed, Melkor would not be in the least bit happy if they managed to slip through his grasp over here. He has a revenge plan that he's working on, and Melkor doesn't like people in the way of his revenge plans. And,' he continued, his eyes blazing, 'if Melkor isn't happy, then I am not happy.'

'So get a new crush. They're gone.'

'Stop being snarky with me,' Sauron snapped. 'I just want to get them and get out of here. If you cooperate, I won't hurt your little family.'

'Is that a threat?'

'Yes.'

'I'd suggest checking the surrounding woods,' Narn said quietly. 'That's the last place I saw them.' She rocked Lilja, who had started to fuss again.

For a moment, Sauron thought about snatching the child from her arms and threatening to kill her right then and there if she didn't tell him exactly where Túrin and the others were, but he didn't. He was rather enjoying his little game. He liked this modern world with the shiny new cell phones and as fast as thunder computers, and he didn't want to leave quite yet. In fact, if the computers had been as fast as lightning, he was pretty sure he would have just ditched Morgoth and stayed there forever.

He looked at Narn, and he could read in her eyes that she guessed at what he was thinking. Worry flickered over her face, and he knew she would tell him where they were the instant he directly threatened her relatives. He had already beaten her; he could have them back whenever he wanted.

'All right,' he said. 'But you had better not be messing with me, little girl.' He brushed past her quickly and walked straight through the baby gate and on down the steps. Little tricks like that scared humans. He stopped by the front door and turned to look at them one more time. Narn was dragging the highchair to the piano and putting the baby in it; she glanced at him.

'I know everything,' he said and walked out the door to the start of baby piano improvisation.

It was warm outside the house. He pulled off his red leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder. There was a buzz of life around the place. He could hear conversations just out of earshot, the hum of a lawnmower, the occasional dog. The air smelt sweet and dirty and fresh – like flowers and fumes and bright green leaves.

I wonder where she is hiding them. He thought as he made his way down one of the streets past neat rows of little wooden houses. A funny coincidence that the house he picked to deliver the package to would belong to a family who actually had some idea about who they all were. What a funny, funny coincidence when he had just wanted the toys to go to the dog.

He pulled out his cell phone to call Morgoth. This was no ordinary cell phone. It was a magical cell phone with magical properties that enabled him to communicate through time, through space, even to the dead. It was very cell phone-ish looking, however, so he would be safe to use it in public.

Flipping it open, he glanced down at the messages. He had a text from Thuringwethil.

hhey dsawurron vvbaabvy neeeddf mnwe? iull;; sduixxc hjer bnloiod xxoxoxoox

What the Angband? He wondered staring down at the text. Oh. "Hey Sauron baby, need me? I'll suck her blood. xoxoxox" That's what it must mean to say. Well, he'd forgive her. Texting with those nails must be a nightmare. He'd have to remember to add it to the list of things to torment people's minds with.

No, I don't need you right now. I've got things managed. Torturing the little brat just fine by myself. I'll have their location in no time.

He sent the text and speed dialled Morgoth's number. Of course he got the answering machine.

'Hey boss,' he said. 'I've found the girl. She's hiding them, but it won't be long now. She's already beginning to break under the excruciating torture I've got her under. I'll have them in…I'll say three days tops. Okay. Love ya. Bye.' He flipped the phone shut and stuck it into the pocket of his tight black jeans. Now to find a nice café where to he could get a good coffee and something sweet. He had big plans for the day and none of them involved anything remotely like working.

Chapter Text

'And he became ever more friendly with the old Dwarf'– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Lips brushed Mîm's plush cheek, and then he was standing and breathing in a white room. The horrible woman was standing in front of him.

'So, sorry about that,' she said. 'I…we need to get better organized.'

Mîm glared around the room he had spent the last couple days in. Narn had not awoken them from the curse for at least forty-eight hours. He knew he was not the only one angry. Túrin's eyes were narrowed dangerously. Andróg looked fit to murder. Beleg looked to be the only one unaffected, which Mîm quickly added to his (understandably long) list of reasons to hate the Elf.

Narn had left them on the daybed most days, facing the window. At night she had lined them up in the suitcase with the top open and tucked a jumper over them to keep them warm.

Mîm's fists balled. He looked up at Túrin, waiting for him to speak.

'Hmm,' Narn said, looking around at all of them. 'You're angry.' She didn't seem very bothered by that.

Mîm didn't know where she had put Beleg/Túrin's sword, but neither of them had it. He guessed she didn't know that they could kill her with their bare hands. He then followed that train of thought and realized that if they did kill her they would turn into plush toys and then not have a way to awake. Unless it wasn't a kiss. It could just be the saliva. They could collect her saliva and then dab it on themselves. He liked that idea better.

Or, and Mîm liked this idea best, they could switch positions. They could be the one who controlled her life, instead of she controlling theirs. They could kidnap her – there were four of them, it wouldn't be difficult – and force her to kiss them. He decided to suggest that idea to Túrin just as soon as they were alone. Túrin would like that idea.

'Do not ever do that to us again,' said Túrin.

She stared at him. 'Okay,' she said. 'Next time I'll let Sauron find you.'

'Next time,' said Túrin, 'you shall let us face him.'

She continued to stare at him, her face expressionless. 'Do you want something to eat?'

Túrin took a step towards her. He leaned close. 'Do you understand?'

'Yes. I'm not stupid.'

Mîm was almost certain that the pause after the 'yes' stood for a 'but.'

'Good.'

Beleg laid a hand on Túrin's arm. 'We should eat,' he said softly.

The four of them followed Narn up a narrow staircase and into the kitchen.

'Have you heard from Sauron?' Beleg asked.

'No.' She got out bread and cheese. 'Not since Wednesday.'

'How long have we been plush?' Túrin said, ripping off a chunk of bread.

'Since Tuesday. It’s Thursday now. Do you feel hungry? I mean, does hunger affect you when you are plush?'

'No, it doesn't,' Túrin said. 'I thought it had been longer.’

Mîm had thought it had been shorter, but Dwarves and Men felt time differently. As did Elves, which was probably why Beleg wasn't bothered.

He sniffed at the cheese.

Narn put out a jar of strawberry preserves and a cucumber.

'We need to find a way to fix this situation,' she said.

'Yes,' said Túrin. 'We do.'

'Now,' said Narn, 'I've been doing some research, and, well, probably the most likely cure from a curse like this would be "true love's kiss." It shows up again and again in fairy tales.'

'What's that?' Túrin asked, mouth full. Beleg hit his shoulder.

'It's when someone who is in love with someone under a curse kisses the someone under the curse and then they get free from the curse.'

'Sounds good,' said Túrin. 'How do we get someone to be in love with someone?'

'I don't know,' said Narn. 'It always seemed to be a love at first sight kind of thing.' She sighed.

Mîm munched on his bread. He didn't exactly believe in love at first sight.

Narn wrinkled her nose. 'Of course you two,' she waved vaguely at Beleg and Túrin, 'are both what most people would consider quite attractive. And attraction is what most of this "love at first sight" nonsense is built on. So we might be able to get that to work.' She shrugged. 'It's worth a try.'

Mîm looked at Túrin. Túrin didn't look quite convinced.

'Um,' Túrin said. 'I don't quite follow you.'

Narn leaned back against the table and sighed deeply. 'You get woken up from being plush toys because of a kiss. It follows, then, that you might be freed completely from a kiss. In fairy tales, "true love's kiss" is what frees people from spells. Therefore, it would be logical to try to achieve "true love's kiss" to free you. These "true love's kisses" are generally given by people who just met, so they are therefore usually based on nothing more than attraction. You and Beleg are the most attractive of your companions, so it would be logical to try to get someone to fall in love with you – based on your attraction – in order to free you from the spell Morgoth has placed you under. Okay?'

'Ah,' said Túrin.

Mîm tugged on his hand. 'I need to talk to you,' he said.

'Whatever for?'

'It's about the situation. I have a plan.'

Túrin nodded and followed Mîm out of the kitchen and into the small bathroom. Mîm shut the door.

'We kidnap her,' he said.

Túrin stared down at him. 'What?'

'We kidnap her. We don't let ourselves be bound to her, we make her be bound to us.'

'Ah,' said Túrin. 'Would that not be wrong?'

'She left us as toys for three days against our will,' Mîm said. 'She has taken your sword from you. She has conversed with Sauron and not been hurt. We cannot trust her, nor hold ourselves indebted to her any longer.'

Túrin nodded thoughtfully. While the idea of harming a woman did not appeal to him, he was a proud man and being forced to be bound to the strange maiden was not a situation that he readily accepted.

'How does it work?'

'We take her along and force her to kiss us to keep us awake. I do not think she has to be willing to kiss us, you've made her do it when she didn't want to before.'

Túrin nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes.'

'Sounds good?' Mîm folded his arms.

'Yes, that actually sounds smart,' Túrin said. 'That way we can find a great sorcerer or magician who can bring us back to where we belong. I still say we start with the King of Sweden.'

Mîm nodded. 'Good.'

'I'll talk to Beleg about it,' Túrin added. 'And remember that we shall not hurt her.'

Mîm felt the floor drop from under his feet. He frowned. 'Don't do that. Beleg wouldn't agree, and then we couldn't do it. He might even warn the woman about our plan.'

'Even with a warning, there would be nothing she could do to escape,' Túrin said calmly. 'I shall speak to Beleg, and we shall see.'

Mîm followed Túrin out of the bathroom. Túrin went to Beleg and they started whispering together again. They were always whispering. Mîm really hated that about them. He glared at them for a long time, until they stopped their whispering.

Beleg didn't look too happy, but Túrin was smiling.

'We shall try Narn's plan first, and then we shall try ours,' he told Mîm.

'What's your plan?' Narn asked.

Andróg looked back and forth between Mîm and Túrin angrily. 'Yes, what is your plan?'

'I shall tell you later,' Túrin told him.

'Tell me now.'

'Very well.' Túrin got up and went into the bathroom with Andróg.

Mîm gave Beleg a smug smile. Beleg frowned at him and tossed his hair.

Narn got up and started towards the bathroom, probably planning to eavesdrop. Jumping up, Beleg took her by the arms, forcing her to stay in the kitchen.

'Please, do not follow them,' he said. 'Túrin is angry, and spying on him shall only upset him more.'

'He's really that angry?' Narn said. 'Because I tried to hide him for a few days?'

'You have hindered his freedom,' Beleg said. 'He will not let that go lightly.'

Narn sighed deeply. 'Men,' she muttered and pulled away from Beleg.

He held her fast.

'What are you doing?' she said.

'I am seeing which of us is stronger,' he said.

'You are.'

'Yes, I believe so. But still, try to free yourself.'

Mîm spread some butter on his bread and added a thick hunk of cheese. Beleg was right, they didn’t know how strong the people here were. They had other powers that he couldn’t explain. And this would be an interesting thing to watch: an Elf and a woman fighting. He hoped that they both got seriously injured.

Narn pulled again, but that did nothing to help. She stood still, thinking. She was standing with her back to Beleg, who was holding both of her arms tightly at the wrists. She took two steps backwards, until she was standing almost against him, and then stepped hard on his foot.

'Ah,' said Beleg and grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.

She folded her arms and looked at the ceiling. 'Hmm,' she said.

Mîm wished something interesting would happen. He decided that Elves and women were boring even in their fights.

'You have nothing?' said Beleg.

Silently Narn reached behind her and grabbed Beleg's hair. She pulled hard. Beleg reached to grab her hands, dropping her. She fell to the floor, still holding onto his hair. His head jerked downwards, and he fell on top of her. He wrested his hair from her hands and pinned her hands above her head. She kicked uselessly against him.

'I told you you were stronger,' she said.

'What on earth is going on here?' Túrin had returned, Andróg by his side. He was staring in surprise at the scene before him.

'They're fighting,' Mîm said happily.

'Whatever for?' Túrin asked.

Beleg jumped off Narn. 'I wanted to see which of us was stronger,' he said.

'But you are, of course,' Túrin said, touching his arm.

'Yes,' said Beleg. 'It is as I believed.'

'Then why test it?' Túrin looked at Beleg, confusion written in his eyes.

Beleg smiled at him. 'One must wonder about such matters. After all, they can travel much faster than we. I did wonder if they had invented a way to become stronger physically as well.'

Narn nodded. 'Makes sense.' She was straightening out her clothes and hair calmly. 'But humans don’t really make themselves stronger with gasoline.’

Mîm made careful note of how she called humans 'they' and not 'we.' He still sometimes had suspicions of her. The 'helpless mortal woman' face she put on could be an act.

'Ah,' said Túrin. He frowned down at the floor. 'Do you really just wonder things like that?' he asked Beleg.

'Yes,' Beleg replied.

'Does anyone else?' Túrin asked.

'Oh, I do,' said Narn.

Túrin looked at her in confusion. 'You do?'

Narn nodded. 'For instance, Beleg is one of the Elves who awoke first and thus had no parents, correct?'

Beleg nodded gravely. 'What have you wondered about that?'

'Well,' she said. 'I've always wondered if you had a belly button.'

Mîm frowned. That was one of the stupidest things he had ever heard somebody ask about in his whole entire life, and he had heard a lot of stupid people ask a lot of stupid things.

Beleg laughed. 'Yes, that is a question that I can imagine one having.' He laughed again.

Mîm dumped some strawberries on his plate, trying to block them out. He just wanted them to get the whole 'fall in love' thing over so that they could get on with a sensible plan and get out of there.

'You really wonder that?' Túrin asked the dratted woman.

She nodded. 'Yeah. I've lain awake at night wondering that. It's disturbed my sleep.'

Beleg smiled, his face crinkling disturbingly attractively around his eyes and mouth. 'That is quite funny,' he said.

Andróg frowned. He looked like he had just taken a mouthful of sour milk. 'Well,' he said, looking up at Beleg. 'Do you?'

Chapter Text

'All trace of his flight washed away' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

'Um,' Beleg said, looking around the room. All eyes were fixed on him, except for Túrin's. Túrin was still staring at Narn.

'You actually wondered that?' Túrin said.

She nodded.

'That is indeed strange.' Túrin looked at Beleg.

Now all eyes were definitely fixed on him.

Beleg swallowed. 'I suppose I have to answer it then?'

'Yes.' Andróg folded his arms. 'I think you do.'

Beleg took a deep breath and looked over at the cheery red sofa and chair set in the living room. Then he looked out the window at the brick buildings across the green yards.

'This is a little embarrassing,' he said.

'Go on,' said Túrin. 'It's fine.'

'Um,' Beleg said again.

Túrin rolled his eyes and reached over and pulled up Beleg's shirt to reveal a nicely toned, flat tummy – a very flat tummy. There was no indention or mark where a bellybutton would be.

'Ta-da,' Túrin said. 'He's a freak.' He dropped Beleg's shirt back in place.

Beleg smoothed his shirt over his stomach and looked around the room. 'I do not have a belly button,' he announced, although they all knew that already.

'That is queer,' Andróg said. 'Like all matters concerning Elves.'

'Most Elves have belly buttons,' Túrin said. 'He just does not for he had no parents.'

'That is queer,' Andróg said.

Beleg sighed, remembering the first time that Túrin had discovered that he possessed no navel. They had been wrestling, and Beleg's shirt had ridden up. Túrin had looked upon him in wonder and cried, 'but you have no belly button!' And then he had pulled up his shirt to show him what he meant, thinking it a mark of difference between Elves and Men. Beleg had then had to explain to him his history as well as find an Elf who had parents in order to assuage Túrin's curiosity. That had been followed by a week of finding out all the physical differences between Elves and Men that Túrin could think of, such as, 'yes, you're getting a beard' and 'yes, Elves get goosebumps.'

'Okay,' Narn said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She looked out the window at the little baby buggy where Lilja was undoubtedly sleeping. 'Now, back to the falling in love business.' She picked up her laptop from the end table where it sat and opened it. She opened up a browser and typed in 'how to fall in love with someone.'

Túrin looked at Beleg. 'Do you think there is any chance of this plan succeeding?' he asked.

Beleg shrugged. 'It may, or it may not. There is a chance, however small it may be.'

Andróg shrugged and sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of water. 'Just let her get over with it, if you must, Neithan. But for once I must say I agree with the Dwarf.'

'Then agree with him if you must.' Túrin poured himself a glass of water as well and cut off some cheese.

'Ah-ha!' Narn cried suddenly. 'Scientists got two strangers to fall in love with each other after asking each other a series of questions!' She looked way too excited about this. 'They even went on to get married! We've got to try this.'

Beleg glanced at Túrin, who shrugged. 'Very well then.'

'Great!' Narn smiled. 'We'll try it tonight. I don't have enough time right now before the baby wakes up.' She closed the computer. 'Oh, you'll probably want to wash up, won't you?'

'No,' said Andróg.

'Yes,' said Beleg at the same moment.

'Great!' said Narn. 'I'll show you where as soon as you're done eating.'

Having finished their lunch, Beleg and the others went back downstairs. 'This is the toilet,' Narn said, opening the door to a small room with a sink and a toilet. 'And this is the shower.' She opened another door on a large room with two showerheads mounted on one wall. There was a drain in the middle of the floor and a glass door looking leading to a wooden sauna on one wall. There was a bench for sitting, a few towels hanging on the wall, and a clothes rack.

'You can wash one at a time or two at a time or whichever,' Narn said. 'There are towels there. Make sure to push the water to the drain when you're done.' She held up a squeegee. 'With this. Shampoo and soap are there. The water goes on like this.' She jerked the handle up and water sprayed from the shower. 'And hot is on this side, cold is on this side, and I think that's all. Oh, and we've got to get you some new clothes soon. Okay? Got everything. Great. I've got to go check on the baby.'

She disappeared up the stairs.

Mîm promptly locked himself in the toilet.

'We don't have to take showers do we?' Andróg asked.

'Yes,' said Beleg.

'I shall not force you to,' Túrin said.

Beleg wrinkled his nose. 'Túrin, he stinks.'

'He does not stink,' Túrin said.

'How would you know? You stink as well.'

'I do not stink.'

'Yes, you do.'

'He does not,' Andróg said. 'And neither do I.'

'You both stink. And you at least are bathing.' He took Túrin by the wrist and pulled him over to one of the showers. 'Undress.'

Túrin jerked his arm free.

Beleg grabbed it again. 'You said that you would let me counsel you in all ways,' he said, starting to undo Túrin's buttons. 'Well, I now counsel you to take a shower.'

'Fine, very well then, I shall.' Túrin pushed Beleg away from him and started to pull his clothes off.

Beleg turned to Andróg. 'Well?'

'I'm not undressing in front of you.'

Beleg gathered up Túrin's discarded clothing. 'Then put your clothes outside the door.' He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. A few moments later the door opened again and a dripping wet Túrin handed Beleg Andróg's clothes.

'Thank you.' Beleg separated the belts and shoes from the pile.

'What are you doing?' Mîm was standing behind him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

'I'm going to wash our clothes.'

Mîm scoffed.

'Hygiene is very important,' Beleg said.

Mîm just glowered at him. Beleg ignored him and started to straighten the clothes.

'Aaah!' Túrin cried from the bathroom.

Beleg dropped what he was doing and rushed in, Mîm at his heels.

Túrin was standing in front of the shower, a hand over his face. 'It's in my eye. It's in my eye!'

Beleg ran over to him and pulled his hand away. 'Here, Túrin, stay still.' He turned the water to cool and began to wash Túrin's eyes. Túrin spluttered but calmed down.

'Shampoo?' Beleg asked.

'Yes.'

Beleg grabbed a towel and dried Túrin's face with it, dabbing gently at his eyes. 'There you go.'

Túrin pulled the towel away from him and wiped his face. 'I can do that,' he said. 'I am not a child any longer.'

'Are you all right down there?' Narn called from the top of the stairs.

'Yes!' Túrin shouted. 'We're fine! Don't come down!'

'Túrin just got shampoo in his eyes!' Beleg called. 'But we're fine now.'

'Okay!' It did not sound like a reassured okay. It sounded like the kind of okay that thought they were secretly murdering each other.

Beleg turned to Andróg, who had wrapped himself up in a towel and was giving Beleg a look of dislike.

'All right.' Beleg clapped Túrin on the shoulder. 'Back to work, men.'

He walked out and shut the door behind him and sat down on the white tile of the floor. He was now wet, and it wasn't very comfortable. He hoped that they would finish up. Mîm, who was also half soaked, stood close enough to Beleg to drip water on him. Beleg pushed him away. Mîm pushed back. Beleg went and sat on the staircase. Mîm watched him darkly.

Andróg walked out a few minutes later, towel around his waist. Túrin followed him.

'Can we have our clothes now?' Andróg asked.

'No,' said Beleg. 'I have to wash them.'

Mîm walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He locked it. 'Mîm showers next,' he said.

Beleg sighed and looked up at Túrin.

'So what do we wear now?' Túrin asked.

'Your towels.'

Andróg glared at him. 'Why do you have to be so clean?' He walked into the room where they had been kept as plush toys and sat down on the daybed. Túrin and Beleg followed him.

'This is so stupid,' Andróg muttered.

'What?' Túrin asked, sitting down beside him.

'Nothing, captain.' Andróg threw himself down on his back and glared at the ceiling.

Túrin tapped his bare knees and tried estimating how long it would take to get their clothes back.

Beleg watched them silently and tugged on his damp shirt. He was getting itchy. He wondered how long it could possibly take Mîm to take a shower. Mîm was humming loudly as the shower ran. Beleg supposed that he was prolonging it since he knew it would make Beleg uncomfortable. In fact, Beleg was quite right about this, so it took a full forty-five minutes before a steaming Mîm emerged from the bathroom dressed in wet clothes, including boots. He sloshed into the toilet and shut the door and locked it.

Beleg sighed and walked into the bathroom. He washed himself first, and then he washed all the clothing. Then he hung the clothes up to dry on the clothes rack, which was mostly empty, and washed himself again.

When he came out of the bathroom Mîm was still in the toilet, singing to himself in a low voice. Andróg was seated on the daybed flipping through an illustrated medical book and making faces. Túrin was crouching in front of the television, trying to figure out how to turn it on. Beleg sat down on the floor next to him because he didn't want to sit next to Andróg.

'Our clothes are drying.'

'Okay.' Túrin pushed one of the buttons on the side of the television. It came on, and the screen filled with a giant truck.

'What is that?' Andróg asked, putting down his book.

Túrin sat down on the daybed and stared at the screen. 'It's a vehicle,' he said.

'It has huge wheels,' Andróg said.

The truck ran through a river, spraying water and dirt behind it.

'Amazing,' Andróg said. 'Let us watch this.'

'All right,' Túrin said.

Beleg sat down on the bed beside Túrin and looked at the screen. He did not understand why this truck was interesting to them. He put his head on Túrin's shoulder and tried daydreaming.

'We were going to see which of our trucks could stop fastest,' the driver on the television was saying. 'So we made a test. We would drive towards the lake at full speed and then stop. Whoever got closest to the lake won. But if we went in the lake, then we were BEAVER BAIT!'

Beleg nuzzled closer to Túrin, vaguely wondering what a beaver was. Túrin was warm and Beleg was feeling rather sleepy. He yawned and lay down, placing his head on Túrin's lap. He pulled one of the blankets over him and closed his eyes to shut out the annoying driver. He could still hear him going on about how they were going to take their trucks on an expedition through the Alaskan wilderness so they had to be sure they were good trucks otherwise they would be BEAR BAIT. Wondering why he had to shout that all the time, he started to drift off.

Beleg was startled from his cosy sleep by a knock on the door. It was Narn.

'Hey,' she said. She was carrying Lilja, who looked around the room importantly.

Beleg sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

'Hello,' Túrin said.

'You're watching the tv, I see,' she said. 'Any good?'

'There is a monster truck,' said Túrin.

'Ah. Monster truck.' Narn nodded. 'So…you're changing back to toys in a couple hours, yes?'

'I think so,' said Túrin.

'Okay Did you wash your clothes?’

'Yes, they're drying,' said Beleg. 'In the bathroom.'

'Oh,' Narn said. 'Why don't I put those in the dryer for you? They'll get done faster that way.'

'All right,' Beleg said.

'Does one of you want to help me?' she asked. She looked around again. 'And where's Mîm?'

'He's in the toilet,' said Túrin.

'Ah.' She nodded. 'Okay, clothes.' She walked into the bathroom. 'Ugh.

Beleg got up and followed her in. 'What?'

'My socks are wet now.'

They looked down at her wet socks for a moment.

'Yes,' said Beleg.

'Clothes,' she said. She pulled off her socks.

Beleg gathered up the clothes and followed Narn out of the bathroom, past the toilet, and into the laundry room. Narn opened one of the machines. 'Clothes in there.'

Beleg put the clothes in there.

'Could you hold her for a second?' Narn asked, holding the baby out to Beleg. Beleg took the baby carefully. Lilja stared up at him with big blue eyes and pulled on his hair. She giggled.

Beleg tried to pull his hair away, but Lilja held fast. Beleg gave up. She giggled again.

Narn was now examining the machine. 'Ah,' she said. A moment later the machine began to rumble, and Narn took the baby back. 'Thanks. When the machine stops its rumbling the clothes should be dry. Do you need anything else?'

Beleg shook his head. 'No. Thank you.'

'Okay, I'll see you later.' She went back up the stairs with the baby.

Beleg walked back over to Túrin, who was still watching the monster trucks run around Alaska. Something was going wrong with them.

'What's their problem?' he asked Túrin.

'They've got to get across the river somehow,' said Túrin, 'or they're salmon bait.'

Chapter Text

Whom shall we love, when all hate us? – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Narn sat cross-legged on the floor, laptop open in front of her. 'So,' she said to the Dwarf, Elf, and two Men sitting on the floor across from her. 'How do you want to do this?'

'I don't,' said Andróg.

She ignored him and looked at Túrin. 'There's no reason to think this will work, but since there is no real reason to think it won't work, I think we should still try. It's a fairly common answer in stories.'

'Do you mean to tell us that your one and only plan for helping us is to fall in love with us?' Túrin said slowly.

'No,' she said. 'That's one of my plans. My original plan, which is now my other plan, was to set up online dating profiles for you and get someone else to fall in love with you. My other other plan is to get you all to all kiss each other in case Morgoth is playing some sort of game with irony where the cure was in front of you all along.' She smiled. ‘We can start with that one!’

'Ew,' said Andróg.

'Not as "ew" as slobbery dog jaws,' she said sweetly.

Andróg glanced sideways at Beleg. 'Yes as "ew".'

Narn ignored him again. 'Oh, and that might also help to see if my other idea of "one true hate's kiss" being the cure might at all work.'

'So you are trying to discover how the dark lord's mind might work and use that against him?' Túrin asked.

'Yeah, pretty much.' She looked down at her laptop again. 'Shall we get started?'

‘Okay,’ Beleg said. He pulled Túrin close to him and kissed his mouth.

‘Ew,’ Andróg said, watching, fascinated.

Túrin kissed Beleg back, open mouthed. He held his hand against Beleg’s cheek.

‘Okay,’ Andróg said. ‘I think that would break a curse if that was the answer.’

Túrin broke the kiss. Beleg smiled at him. Túrin turned and kissed Andróg’s lips, quite quickly. He kissed Mîm after. Mîm smiled. Then frowned, remembering that wouldn't be the only kiss.

Andróg kissed Mîm too. They glared at each other.

‘True hate’s kiss?’ Narn said.

Andróg turned to Beleg. Beleg leaned forward, head tilted to one side. Andróg kissed him.

‘True hate’s kiss?’ Beleg asked.

Andróg sighed.

Mîm made a face at Beleg. Beleg closed his eyes. Mîm kissed him.

Mîm looked at Túrin. Túrin nodded.

‘We shall see,’ Narn said. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t argue.’

‘We’re desperate, clearly,’ Andróg growled.

‘Right,’ Narn said. ‘And then we’ll try this one for good measure, and hopefully one of those is the cure.’

Beleg leaned forward and looked down at the computer screen. 'Those are the questions?'

'Yes. We have to answer all of those questions and then stare into each other's eyes for four minutes.'

Mîm cleared his throat. 'Who are you going to force to do that?'

Narn sighed. 'Does anyone want to volunteer?'

'Who do you think you could most easily fall in love with?' Beleg asked.

She paused, then frowned. 'Well, I've never actually really been in love, so…' she paused again, contemplating whether or not this was a good idea and wondering if all those songs about broken hearts being the worst thing in the world were anywhere close to accurate.

'I shall do it,' Túrin said. 'I am the captain, after all.'

'Cool.' Narn handed the laptop to Beleg. 'Do you want to ask the questions?'

Andróg sat back against the wall and raised his eyebrows. Mîm sat down in the corner farthest from everyone and crossed his arms. He wiped his mouth a few more times.

'Whatever happened to the "love at first sight" sort of thing?' Andróg asked.

'That's kind of where the dating profile thing will come in,' said Narn. 'I obviously haven't fallen in love with any of you at first sight, so it won't work with us.'

'Has anyone every told you that you are most annoying?'

'Yes, many people, frequently. Shall we continue?'

Beleg cleared his throat. 'Okay. Question number one.'

Túrin squared his shoulders and looked across at Narn, adapting a battle stance. She pushed her hair back off one shoulder and straightened her back.

'Given the choice of anyone in the world,' Beleg read, 'whom would you want as a dinner guest?'

'My mother,' said Túrin. He offered no further comment.

Beleg looked at Narn.

'Um,' she said. 'Christopher Tolkien. He might have an answer to all of this.'

'Who?' Túrin demanded.

'He's the son of the man who wrote the book about you.'

'Hmm,' Túrin said. He looked like he had added Christopher Tolkien to the list of people he was going to find and beg an answer of. Narn wondered if he was listed before or after the King of Sweden.

'Question two,' Beleg announced. 'Would you like to be famous? In what way?'

'I would like to be famous for destroying Morgoth,' said Túrin solemnly.

'Uh,' said Narn. 'I'd like to be famous for…writing books and making films, but not really famous because that would be awkward and people would find out all the embarrassing things I'd ever done. So… moderately famous, I guess?'

She looked at Túrin, who was still sitting silently.

'Next question,' said Beleg, trying to sound chipper. 'Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?'

'I do not make telephone calls,' said Túrin.

'Yes, I do,' said Narn. 'And I do so because the long spaces of silence in my conversation don't translate well over the phone.' She fell silent again.

Beleg narrowed his eyes. 'Question four: What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?'

'A perfect day for me would be destroying Morgoth and having all his curses lifted, then being reunited with my mother and the rest of my family. And Beleg would promise to stay by my side always, and we would never be parted,' Túrin added.

'Oh, Túrin!' Beleg smiled and laid a hand over his heart.

Andróg scoffed loudly and muttered ‘fuck off’ under his breath.

'Not in front of the lady!' Túrin snapped at Andróg.

Andróg gave Narn a tight smile. 'Apologies, lady.'

‘Okay,’ Narn said.

Beleg reached out and patted Túrin's knee. 'And you?' he asked Narn, who was feeling very wretched indeed. She could think of nothing great and noble she could possibly do for a perfect day.
'Well.' She bit her lip. 'In a perfect day I would be the wind, and then water, and then fire, and I would travel the face of the earth as these, and keep the memories forever.'

Andróg rolled his eyes.

'Hmm.' Beleg looked down. 'Five: When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?'

'I last sang to myself a few weeks ago when walking back to camp.' Túrin looked up at the ceiling, thinking. 'And I last sang to someone else at Yule, and that was to Beleg, who wanted me to sing.'

'And it was very nice,' Beleg said gently.

'You actually have a good voice, Neithan,' Andróg said. 'You should sing more often.'

'Yes,' said Mîm.

Túrin frowned.

They all looked at Narn.

'Today, for fun,' she said. 'And also today because I sang the baby to sleep.' Narn sang a lot. She was pretty sure they already knew this because they had been more or less sharing a room for the past few days.

'Very good.' Beleg smiled and continued. 'If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?'

'Body,' said Túrin. 'Strength.'

'Body,' said Narn. ‘Same reason, I guess.’
Beleg adjusted the computer screen. 'Question seven: Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?'
'No,' said Túrin.
Narn looked closely at him. She was trying to imagine what he would look like falling upon his own sword. He looked young – ridiculously young. (She always imagined him older than he was.) He was what would be called strikingly attractive or drop-dead gorgeous, depending on the speaker. His black hair was a mess, yes, and his beard was unkempt, it was true, but he had beautiful blue eyes that sparkled beneath long, thick, black lashes, which curled upwards. His jaw line was cutting, and his body was muscled, and his hands strong.

Narn tried falling in love with him. But she wasn’t sure what that was supposed to feel like. But she figured that people would go crazy over him if she snapped a few pictures of him and got him up on a dating website. So they could try to find a way to break the plush toy curse. So they could find a way to get him back home. So he could kill Beleg. And then later kill himself. Because nothing could go right. Nothing!

'Narn? Are you all right?' Beleg asked, laying a hand softly on her shoulder.

She nodded, blinking away tears. 'I've always kind of thought I'd die alone,' she whispered. 'Not alone like away from people, but alone like there's no one alive on earth I care for, or who cares for me, alone. Shot or something. Hit by a bus. Just…' she trailed off, realizing she had been going on and cleared her throat. 'Yeah. I don’t know.’ Beleg rubbed her shoulder.

Túrin glanced at her face and then at Beleg.

Beleg read the next question. 'Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.'

'Hands, feet, faces,' Túrin stated bluntly.

'Seriousness, coldness, stubbornness.'

'For what in your life do you feel most grateful?'

'My mother.' That was Túrin.

'My will,' said Narn.

'If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?'

'I,' Túrin said, but then his face grew cold, and his eyes darkened. 'I do not wish to answer any more questions.' He got up, left the room quickly, and locked himself in the toilet.

Since her aunt and uncle slept upstairs, Narn was not too worried about this. She sighed softly.

'I'll do it,' Beleg said. 'This is actually quite interesting.'

Andróg grabbed the computer and placed it on his knees.

'Starting where we left off?'

'Yes.'

'If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?'

'I wasn't raised,' said Beleg. 'I had no parents.' He smiled gently at Narn.

'I'd wish for a different father. Or no father at all,' she said, voice a bit shaky.

'Why?' asked Beleg, genuinely curious.

'He was cruel. He was so cruel… And I wish I hadn’t been so alone.’ She wiped at the tears in her eyes. ‘And I wish… I wish...’

'Next!' Andróg called. 'Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.' He frowned. 'Sorry, I misread that. Take thirty seconds.'

Beleg rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. 'I came into being,' he said, 'and learned all the ways of the woods. I allied myself with Thingol. The moon rose, the sun rose, Men came. I fought, I lived, I had friends, and then Túrin came. I helped him, I taught him, and now I work with him. You?'

'I was born. I became friends with my sister. I was terrified of my father. He was… My little brother was born. I taught myself how to read. My brother was sick. And then he was sicker, and then he died while I was holding him. I was eleven. And I had no friends, and I didn’t see anyone, and I went through hell, and now I’m here.’

Andróg left no opportunity for comment. 'If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be? Nothing vulgar, Elf,' he growled.

Beleg scoffed. 'To think I would say something vulgar.'

'Nothing vulgar – I mean it.'

'I would like to be able to breathe under water,' said Beleg. 'Don't ask.'

'I'd like to be able to transport from one place to another instantly,' Narn said with a toss of her head.

'Aren't we realistic?' Andróg sniped. He continued. 'If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?'

'I would like to know the truth about how to stop Morgoth,' said Beleg.

'And I would like to know the truth about the universe,' said Narn.

'Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it? Coward,' Andróg added, under his breath.

'I have dreamed of punching you in the face. Not you, Narn! You, Andróg. I haven't done so out of loyalty to Túrin.'

'Do you see what I mean about vulgar?' Andróg asked primly.

'I've dreamt about making a movie,' said Narn. 'And I haven't done it because I don’t have the resources.’

Andróg's face screwed up as he read the next question. 'What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?'

'Learning the arts of the woods,' Beleg whispered dramatically, 'and teaching them to those I know.' He smiled a mysterious, Elven sort of smile and turned to Narn.

'Um…becoming good at…writing? I guess.' She played nervously with the beaded ties of her green shirt.

'What do you value most in a friendship?'

'Loyalty, trust, love.'

'I'm just going to agree with Beleg on this one.'

Andróg scowled, but kept reading. 'What is your most treasured memory?'

'The first time I made Túrin laughed, and he told me that he loved me.'

Andróg made a face and turned to Narn.

'Ah,’ Narn said. ‘I was in the woods in the winter with my brother, and I cut out pieces of ice from the stream, and they looked like cities. And it was so quiet.’

'Okay… What is your most terrible memory?'

'The Battle of Unnumbered Tears.'

'The day my brother died.'

'You're a lot better at this than Túrin was, I will have to give you that,' Andróg told Beleg. 'Next question: If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?'

Beleg looked distant as he answered. 'I would take Túrin down to the sea. He's always wanted to see it. I would live with him there and then die.'

Narn made little bubbles in her cheeks before answering. 'I'd quit school, get like a thousand credit cards and travel the world, and write a book. Oh, and make a movie.'

'Ambitious. Next question: What does friendship mean to you?'

Beleg smiled, which lit his face up. 'It means someone to be with, someone to care about, someone to hold and love and cherish. Friendship is having someone to have an adventure with and then laugh about it afterwards.'

'You have a beautiful way with words, Beleg Cúthalion,' Narn remarked.

'Thank you. And what does it mean to you?'

'It means having someone you care about. Someone you like to spend time with and who you want to help.’

'Lovely,' said Andróg. 'I'm feeling the bonding. Question twenty-one of this stupid experiment: What roles do love and affection play in your life?'

'Very important ones,' said Beleg. 'They are both very important to me, and I try to show my love in affectionate ways every day.'

'Not very big roles,' said Narn. 'My father hated love and affection because he hated everything. He thought it was indecent for anyone to be affectionate and foolish to proclaim love.'

Andróg, Beleg, and Mîm all gave her strange looks.

'What?' she said. 'My father was a perfectly sane, completely well-adjusted person without any issues.'

'I am sorry,' Beleg said. He rested his hands on her arms. 'Truly.'

'Life's tough,' Andróg declared. 'Now: Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.' Andróg sighed loudly and slouched against the wall. He waved his hand at them. 'Just get it over with.'

Narn glanced over at Mîm. He looked like he was plotting deviously, which was likely the case.

'I think you're very brave,' said Beleg.

'I think you're brave too. But, um, something different. You're very kind.'

'You're smart.'

'You're pretty. I mean...’

Beleg started laughing.

'You're sweet,’ he said.

'You're skilled of hand.'

'You've got lovely hair.'

'You're very loyal.'

He smiled. 'You're creative, and very good at thinking up plans on the spot.'

'Well, you're brilliant at taking care of people, which is really lovely.'

'Enough, enough!' Andróg snapped. He held the computer closer to his face to read the next question. 'How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?'

'As I have mentioned, I do not have a family, nor did I have a childhood,’ said Beleg. ‘I am close with my friends.'

Túrin slunk into the room. 'What was the question?' he asked Andróg, who told him. 'They ask a lot of questions about childhood,' Túrin muttered and sat down next Mîm, who looked thrilled. Túrin put his arm around him.

'And, as I have mentioned,' said Narn, 'I do not have a close and warm family, and I think that my childhood was not happier than most other people's.’

'Oh, grow up,' Andróg snapped. ‘My life was wretched to. I was hit all the time, and I was starving.’

‘So was I!’ Narn snapped. ‘And I didn’t turn into some wretched killer.’

‘Ha,’ Andróg said. He smiled. 'How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?'

'I do not have a mother.' Beleg said.

'Can we just skip the questions that don't apply to you?' Narn asked.

Beleg nodded. 'If you want.'

'How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?' Túrin asked her.

'I love my mother,' she said. 'But I cannot trust her, and that makes things difficult.'

'Hmm.' Túrin pulled his knees up and hugged them.

'Okay,' said Andróg. 'Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling ..." Feeling…' he groaned loudly and sunk further against the wall.

'We both want to find an answer to this curse,' said Beleg. 'We are both tired of Andróg's annoying comments.'

Narn smiled a little.

'And we both are being very diligent, which is a good thing. Your turn.'

'We are both in this room feeling,' Narn began dramatically, 'frustrated with the situation we are in. We are both trying to find what is best for everyone without anyone getting hurt, and we both think Andróg really ought to stop sighing passive-aggressively when we're answering the questions.'

'Oh, joy!' said Andróg. 'I think they're falling in love.'

'Could be,' Túrin mused.

Andróg cleared his throat. 'Complete this sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share ... " '

'My memories,' Beleg whispered.

'My fears.'

'It's a good thing we don't have to share those!’ Andróg said. ‘Next: If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.'

'I get very snippy when tired,' Beleg said. 'You shouldn't take it personally.'

'You can't approach me from behind,' said Narn.

'Oh, this one is going to be fun!' Andróg cried sarcastically, glancing over the next question. 'Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.’

Beleg looked Narn over for a few moments before speaking. 'I like that you're protective of people you barely know. You have shown much bravery and much gumption. You were a good host, and you agreed to help us even though that has only brought troubles upon you. For that I thank you.'

'Um,' Narn mumbled awkwardly. 'Thanks. I really like how much you love Túrin. Your loyalty and love is beautiful, and I am glad to witness it. The strength of love you have is incredible, and your kindness is overwhelming. You are a very gentle person, and that is really lovely.'

'My word,' said Túrin, 'I think it's working.'

'They're two of a kind – sentimental love birds.' Andróg pulled another face. 'All right, answer this: Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.
'
Beleg chewed on his lip momentarily. 'I once accidentally got into bed with Melian.'

'Really?' Túrin said.

'Yes, it was dark, and I was very tired. It turned out all right though.'

At that Mîm looked depressed. Beleg looked at Narn, waiting for her answer.

Narn thought for a long, long time. Then she thought some more. She could think of no embarrassing moments in her life. None. 'I…called my aunt "mum" when I was six,' she managed finally.

Andróg snorted. 'That’s pretty boring. Answer this: When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?'

'I last cried in front of Mablung because Túrin had gone away. I last cried by myself because Túrin had gone away.' Beleg looked sadly at Túrin, who tried to avoid eye contact.

'I last cried in front of my sister last January,' said Narn. 'And I last cried by myself a few days ago because I missed my sister .’

Andróg wrinkled his nose. 'Tell your partner something that you like about them already.'

'Again!' Narn cried. She turned to Beleg. 'You're funny.'

'You're rude,' said Beleg. 'I like that.'

She smiled.

Andróg gave them both disapproving looks. 'Because you’re rude. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?'

'Túrin's face,' said Beleg.

Narn giggled. 'This sorry state of affairs.'

'I'm pretty sure you're both joking, but we'll continue,' Andróg declared. 'Now: If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?'

'I would most regret not telling Andróg that he's a low-down, no-good, scum-sucking, piece of garbage with bad hair. For Túrin's sake I haven't told him yet, but, whoops! I just did.'

Narn covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. 'I would most regret not telling Sauron that he can jump in a volcano for all I care, I'm not telling him where you guys are. And I didn't tell him yet because I'm afraid he'd not take it good-naturedly.'

Mîm chortled in the corner, but then caught himself.

'Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?'

'My bow. I don't have many material possessions I care too much about, but I like my bow. Which I don't have here,' Beleg added glumly.

'Um,’ Narn said. ‘My teddy bear.’

Beleg smiled.

'Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?' Andróg stretched his legs out.

'I don't have a family,’ Beleg said, ‘but Túrin's death is the one I would find most disturbing of all the people I know because I love him more than anyone else in the world.'

Túrin raised his head and smiled at Beleg.

'My sister,’ Narn said. ‘She’s my best friend, and I can’t imagine my life without her.’

'Last question!' Andróg announced. 'Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.'

'All right,' said Beleg. 'So I have this problem with being a plush toy and having to be kissed all the time to stay alive. What would you do if you were in my situation?'

'Hmm.' Narn bit her knuckle, thinking. 'Well, I'd try to find a cure, but if I couldn't, I'd live with someone who loved me and would kiss me often enough that it wouldn't matter, and that way I would never turn into a toy.'

Beleg nodded thoughtfully. 'Now ask me how I feel about this problem.'

'How do you feel about his problem, Beleg?'

'I feel sad and scared. It makes me feel powerless, and I do not like that.'

'Do you have problems with being powerless?'

'Yes, I do. I think it's because I'm so used to being strong. Having that taken away from me makes me feel like someone stole me from myself somehow.'

Narn nodded gravely.

'Now, tell me a problem,' Beleg said.

'Um, so I've been forced to help these people, and now I think they might be plotting something behind my back that might, perhaps, involve kidnapping me or something, and I don't know what to do about it.' Narn gave him her best big, scared eyes. They were very big and supposed to be very endearing.

Beleg glanced at Túrin, who gave him a hard look. 'All right,' Beleg mused. 'I think the best route of action would be to talk to them directly about it and see if your fears have any grounding. How do you feel about your problem?'

'It scares me,' she said. 'I don't trust people easily, and I'm worried about what would happen.'

Beleg took her hand and squeezed it.

'Okay!' Andróg said. ' Enough of that! Now it's time for staring into each other's eyes for four minutes. I'll keep track with this clock here.' He pointed to the lower right side of the computer. 'Ready? Set?' He paused, waiting for the clock to show the next minute. Forty seconds passed in awkward silence. Then: 'Go!'

Narn folded her arms across her chest and looked into Beleg's eyes. Just looking into someone's would not have been a difficult task for many, but for Narn it was nerve wrecking. She hated eye contact. It made her feel all weird and horrible, trapped and intimidated, like she thought eye contact was somehow a threat. And four minutes of eye contact was scary for people who were good with eye contact. She could not imagine sitting through it. She steeled herself firmly.

Beleg's eyes were hazel green, more green than anything, but it was green beside blue, while grey surrounded his pupil. He had flecks of bright silver too. He had his hands folded under his chin; she could see them just out of her range of focus, all blurry.

Okay, she thought. This wasn't so bad.

And then her nose got itchy. She scratched it, still not breaking eye contact. So now her scalp was itchy. She scratched that too, silently cursing itches. But of course when you didn't want them, they came. Forehead itchy. Knee itchy. Back of the knee itchy. She clamped her hands down on her knees and tried not to move them. Scalp itchy. She scratched it. Blinked. Focused on Beleg's eyes again.

They were gentle, questioning. He seemed to be trying to read into her soul. So she tried to read his back. Hazy bits of forest planted themselves into her mind. She saw tree trunks in starlight.

Time moved slowly. She became acutely aware of Andróg breathing heavily through his nose, the scuffing noise of Mîm's beard as it brushed against his neck with each breath, the loud scraping, grating noise as Túrin scratched his leg.

Beleg had silver brown lashes. He had a dark brown spot of colour in his left eye only, like the red spot on Jupiter.

The neighbour's car pulled into the driveway, and the floor vibrated. Narn arched her back slightly. It was starting to ache.

'Do we have to be quiet?' Mîm asked suddenly.

'Yes,' said Beleg without breaking eye contact.

He reached out and took both Narn's hands and held them, pulling her a little closer. He had probably noticed that she had been shrinking away from him.

Wow, four minutes was long. Narn thought back over her life, but it was making her sad, and she didn’t think she wanted him to see it. She focused on his hands holding hers. She’d never had someone hold her hands like this for so long.

Beleg had beautiful eyes. They were thoughtful and gentle, kind enough to melt any heart. And in that sudden moment Narn realized, with a horrible sinking sensation in her stomach the likes of which she had never felt before, but figured was probably very cliché, that the whole 'fall in love business' might actually be working. And that was a terrifying thought.

'And time's up!' Andróg shouted.

Narn started, fearing that he might wake the house. 'Shhh!' she said, jumping forward on her knees, and promptly losing her balance what with the sitting still for so long followed by sudden movement.

Beleg caught her by the shoulders as she fell forward, and then she was half-kneeling in front of him, looking down at him. He looked up at her, puzzled for a moment.

'Should I?' he said, and she nodded before realizing what he was asking. By the time she realized what 'should I?' meant, he had cupped her head with his hand and drawn her face down to his and kissed her.

The kiss was tempered and soft. He was warm, and smelt ridiculously good, like vanilla and almonds. He steadied her with his hand. She could not remember the last time she had been touched so gently.

'Woo!' Andróg cheered.

And in that moment, Narn realized that her first real kiss was being given to her by a centuries old Elf in a bid for him to stop being a plush toy while a murdering outlaw, an angry Dwarf, and an isolating Elven king's foster son cheered and/or looked on. She would have said that things could not get any more awkward, but, just then, Sauron walked in.

Chapter Text

'Then a thought came to him...' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

'Well then,' said Sauron. 'Isn't this interesting?'

He stepped into the room and shut the door delicately behind him. The little cluster of pathetic people froze pathetically for a moment. Túrin reacted first, springing to his feet and reaching for a sword that was not there.

'Do not approach!' he cried.

Sauron sighed deeply and held his hands up, in a mocking position of half-surrender. 'Relax,' he said, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not even going to bring you back to Melkor.'

'Then what are you here for?' Túrin demanded.

Beleg stood, pulling Narn up with him. Andróg had gone to stand beside Túrin, glaring at Sauron in an utterly pathetic display of menace. Sauron glanced sideways at Mîm, who was sitting in the corner pretending to be invisible. It was not working.

Sauron smiled broadly and sat down cross-legged on the plush turquoise rug.

'How is everyone?' he asked sweetly. Everyone stared down at him, except for Mîm, who was still pretending to be invisible and, as such, was not interacting with anyone.

'Good,' Narn said finally.

'Be quiet,' Túrin told her sharply. 'We will not treat with you,' he said to Sauron.

'I'm not asking you to treat with me,' said Sauron. 'I'm not asking you for anything. Actually, what I am doing is, quite simply, telling you that I (might) be going to leave you alone.'

'Why?' Túrin sad.

'Because,' said Sauron, running his hand over the rug thoughtfully, 'I like it here. And I want to stay.' He smiled. 'I'm offering you the choice of helping me to take over the world. If you do, I'll give you riches and kingdoms, if you don't you can just live out your lives as you would, and if you oppose me, I'll kill you.' Sauron smiled again and looked up at the row of (mostly) glaring faces (Narn was tapping her mouth and looking contemplative).

'You're going to take over the world?' Túrin asked.

'Oh yes,' said Sauron, 'I've got lots of power, and without Melkor here, I can be top dog.' He grinned as mischievously as an evil dark lord plotting to enslave humanity can (which is quite a lot, come to think of it).

'Wow,' said Narn. 'Fun.'

'Almost as fun as kissing an Elf?' Sauron said saucily. She was obviously not taking him seriously, and that was rather annoying.

'Um, I wouldn't really call that fun, per say,' she said. 'It was more—'

'Whatever.' Sauron interrupted. 'Did it work?'

'I don't know,' Beleg answered.

Sauron stood, stretching. 'It's probably better for you if it didn't. After all, you won't be able to hide in suitcases or whatever now. You're going to have to become a person with an identity, and that will be very difficult for you I imagine.'

'Do you not know if it would work?' Beleg asked.

'No,' Sauron said slowly, 'I doubt it, but there is always a possibility.' He saw Narn nodding her head along to that. 'But that possibility is very small,' he added quickly. 'Melkor isn't stupid enough to make a curse that a bloody kiss can break.' He laughed, but then stopped laughing abruptly, which was really quite scary. 'Unless,' he murmured, eyes narrowing, 'he did send me into the future not knowing that I would try to stay here…'

'The future?' Túrin puzzled.

'The future?' Beleg queried.

'The future?' Andróg questioned.

Mîm said nothing. He was still pretending to be invisible.

'Yes, the future,' Sauron said. 'I mean, it's closer to an alternative universe future than your actual actual future, but I don't really have time to explain. I mean, I do have time, but I don't want to bother with it. I have a world to take over. The point is, he might have been that stupid. I'll drop by later to see. Right now, I have to go look for evil minions.' He straightened his leather jacket importantly. 'Ta-ta!'

'Wait,' said Túrin, 'we cannot just let you go and take the world for yourself.'

'I said you could help me,' Sauron drawled, 'but the whole killing you if you interfere thing is still in effect.'

'Hmm.' Túrin looked down, lips twisting in rage.

'Thinking about your dad?' Sauron asked sweetly.

Túrin's eyes flashed as he looked up. His hands were fists even before he lunged forward. He swung his hand back, and Sauron ducked. Túrin lost his balance momentarily and fell forward, but, with the agility of an Elf (having been trained by them), he managed to straight himself again and wheeled on Sauron.

Sauron jumped away from him and smoothed down his hair. 'Well, I think that might count as opposing me.'

Andróg grabbed his hands from behind and pulled Sauron against him, pinning him tight. Túrin also grabbed him, sealing Sauron between them.

'Do you think this is funny?' Túrin snarled, pushing Sauron's chin up. 'Do you!'

'No, but I do think it's fun.' Sauron yanked away from them, knocking both men over. Andróg was hurled backwards against the desk, and Túrin fell against the wall, knocking over a basket of nail polish.

Beleg grabbed Sauron with an arm around his throat, and they fell back together trashing onto the bed. The bed creaked as the Elf and Maia rolled about on the baby blue duvet.

Túrin sprang on top of both of them, once again sandwiching Sauron. Andróg joined in; wrestling Sauron's arm down, he lay on it. The bed made disapproving noises. Mîm got up from his corner and, still pretending to be invisible, went to the bed and hugged Sauron's ankles (to keep Sauron from kicking, not because he liked him).

'Opposing! Opposing!' Sauron gasped. 'Definitely opposing!'

'You bet we're opposing,' Túrin growled. 'We're most definitely opposing.'

'Well,' Sauron gasped, 'that means you'll most definitely die.'

'Not if you die first, scum of Morgoth!' Túrin grabbed his head as if to twist it off, and then Sauron was a wolf.

Sauron!wolf snarled and bit and scratched. Andróg went flying away, and then Túrin. Beleg was trapped beneath it, and its great body twisted over him, crushing him.

'Should I get a…knife…or something from the kitchen?' Narn asked. She was watching the fight warily, but with an almost detached manner, as if she thought she were dreaming.

She probably did, Sauron!wolf realized. Or maybe…maybe the Elf had cast a spell. He looked over at her, but could not see much. Damn wolf vision! He shifted his eyes to more human ones. Yes, she had that look – that dazed, dreamy look of being under a spell.

It was like someone in a bakery for the first time, studying the display of doughnuts, those beautiful spectacles of fresh, soft dough laden with glazes and chocolate frosting, sprinkles and coconut – stuffed with jelly and jams and custards and creams – thick, rich rolls of pure bliss all in that perfect ring shape! No more stale way bread for him! He would have delicious food now and forever! Doughnuts and pizza and thick cut steak! The fluffiest pancakes and fresh oranges any time of the year! Bliss! Heaven!

Sauron!wolf shook his head to clear it. Before all that, he still had work to do. Narn had run off, presumably to get the knife. He had to kill these wretches and then kill her too. He rolled over on top of Beleg and bared his teeth, poised to bite through his neck. He was attacked again, but he had the advantage, and he soon felt the warm flesh of the Elf against his tongue, which was quite lovely, as Elves taste quite good.

But then he heard voices.

He stopped, pricking up his ears.

Narn was talking to her uncle about the commotion downstairs and why she was carrying a knife, and that made Sauron!wolf remember something: he didn't want to get the police involved.

Normally Sauron would not have cared about getting the police involved, but normally Sauron had an army of orcs to back him up. Now he didn't have even one evil minion. He couldn’t deal with the whole Finnish army.

He jumped off Beleg and scampered out into the hall. He had to do some damage control. He resumed his human form and ascended the stairs.

Narn was standing in the narrow hall with her aunt and uncle, who were both dressed in pyjamas. She had a rather large knife in one hand and still had that oddly dazed look over her face. She was saying something about an apple.

Sauron cleared his throat. Narn glanced at him, and her aunt and uncle turned.

'Hi,' Sauron said. 'I'm sorry, is she not supposed to have guests?'

Half an hour later, with the situation very much cleared (ahem), Sauron strolled down the street in the cool night air feeling elated. His counter spell had worked beautifully, and now Narn was very much his mini minion. He just had to wait a little while and then he could kill of Húrin's son and his little gang of misfits very successfully.

Then it would be nothing but sports cars, smart phones, and Boston creams.

Minion, minion, he thought. Well, he had one, but he needed more. You couldn't very well set off to rule the world with just a leather jacket and an art student. No, he needed something bigger. Something badder. Something to scare the socks off any son of Húrin.

He paused, trying to remember if Túrin had been wearing socks. No, never mind. It wasn't important.

Minions. Minions. That was step one. After that, he would make an army.

Chapter Text

‘To that Túrin made no answer, but left them, and went swiftly away, alone, none knew whither.’ - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Beleg sat beside Narn on the edge of her bed. He examined her face. Her eyes weren’t focused, and she had a strange half smile on her face.

‘Your eyes look strange,’ he said.

‘Mmm,’ Narn said; her voice sounded faint and far away. ‘I’m still in love with you.’ She twisted some of her hair around her finger, pulling it tight like a ring.

Beleg rubbed her shoulder. ‘Where did Sauron go?’ he asked gently.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why didn’t he fight your family? He would have won.’

‘He didn’t want to deal with the police and then the army...’ Narn kept staring straight ahead, not focusing on anything.

‘I don’t know,’ Beleg said. ‘He wouldn’t have to if he put a spell on them too. And then he could have killed us.’

‘Maybe he’s not as strong as you think,’ Narn said. ‘Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about. He seemed weak to me. And I’m not under a spell. I just love you.’

Beleg frowned. ‘You are under a spell,’ he said.

‘I’m not,’ Narn said. ‘Sauron doesn’t want anything but an easy life.’ She smiled up at him.

Beleg held his hands firmly on her arms.

‘You’re lying,’ he said. Sometimes someone under a spell might still let important information slip if they were bothered enough.

‘I’m not lying,’ she whispered. ‘I never lie.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘You think?’

‘I know. Your eyes: They’re glazed, like you’re caught in some wicked spell.’

Narn finally focused on him, and she smiled.

‘I’m mad about you.’

‘It isn’t my spell.’

‘Don’t want to take the blame?’ The smile turned a little evil.

Beleg frowned.

‘Maybe mortals are weaker than you imagined,’ she said. ‘Maybe I cannot take the pain of loving you.’

‘That isn’t it.’

‘Are you sure? I thought we were nothing to you.’

‘That’s not true either.’ Beleg stood. ‘Something’s wrong with you.’

She stood too, holding onto his arm. ‘Nothing’s wrong with me.’

Beleg sat her back down. ‘Wait for me there. I’ll be right back.’

‘Okay.’

Beleg left the bedroom and went into the bathroom where the others were waiting for him with bandaged wounds.

‘Sauron must have cast a spell,’ he said. ‘For mine was only light to keep her calm, and it should have worn off by now. All she will say is that she loves me.’

‘Maybe it’s because you’re just that cute.’ Túrin said. It sounded like it would be a joke, but he said it completely seriously.

‘It shouldn’t be like this. I really think Sauron did something.’

‘He could have,’ Túrin said. ‘I wish I knew where he was.’

‘He ran like a coward,’ Mîm said.

‘But he had no need to,’ Beleg said. ‘ He could have ended us or captured us all now. So he must be planning something bigger. And he’s definitely cast a spell on Narn. This compromises our safety, as we cannot leave her, but he may be seeing through her eyes. Maybe he’ll use her to kill us...’

‘A girl likes you, so you think she wants to kill you? Sounds like an Elf.’ Andróg folded his arms.

‘Does anyone else notice that something is wrong with her?’ Beleg sighed.

‘That’s what happens when people fall in love.’ Andróg laughed.

‘I believe you, Beleg,’ Túrin said. ‘She is acting strange. And Sauron had no reason to flee. Something is coming. He is planning. What do we do?’

‘I don’t know how to counter the spell.’

‘Hit her hard on the head?’

‘Shut up, Andróg.’

‘It might work,’ Andróg said.

Beleg sighed.

‘I know violence isn’t always the answer,’ Andróg said. ‘But sometimes it is.’

The four of them went back into the bedroom. Narn looked up from where she was researching Weapons Manufacturing and Mind Control Drugs on her laptop.

‘Oh, hell,’ Túrin said. He grabbed Narn off the desk chair and set her on the bed. Beleg took the laptop. Narn looked up, still looking dazed.

Andróg snapped his fingers in front of Narn’s face.

‘Wake up,’ he said. ‘Wake up.’

‘Because that’s going to work,’ Mîm said.

Andróg scowled at him.

‘It’s kind of stupid how you keep fighting amongst yourselves,’ Narn said calmly. ‘But I love to see it.’

‘We could try to break it with a salt water bath,’ Beleg said. ‘That sometimes works. With herbs.’

‘…You’re gonna cook her?’ Andróg said.

‘No!’ said Beleg.

‘Because that sounds like a soup,’ Andróg said. He peered closely at Beleg. ‘Do elves eat mortals?’

‘No!’ cried Beleg.

‘That might work,’ Túrin said. ‘Perhaps we should try it for ourselves too, though I doubt that a curse of Morgoth would be thrown off that easily.’

‘So we’re all going to be soup?’ Andróg said.

‘It’s unfortunate that they don’t have a bathtub,’ Beleg said. ‘And we don’t have enough time to wait until the morning.’

‘So we kidnap her,’ Túrin said.

‘Kidnapping me is a bad idea,’ Narn protested.

‘Of course you think kidnapping you is a bad idea,’ Andróg said.

Beleg sighed.

‘We’ll try the knock to the head,’ Túrin said. ‘And if that doesn’t work, we kidnap her.’

‘And turn her into soup,’ Mîm said.

‘Hey!’ said Narn. ‘I don’t want to be kidnapped, and I don’t want to be soup.’

‘I’m going to strike you now,’ Túrin said.

‘I suppose today is very unpleasant for me,’ Narn said.

Túrin struck her head. Maybe not that hard. Maybe not that soft either.

‘Ow,’ Narn said flatly. ‘I got hit before,’ she added very softly. She looked up, eyes hard. ‘Maybe I don’t like you any more.’

‘Hmm, who would have thought of that outcome,’ Beleg said.

‘It didn’t hurt.’ Narn held her head high and refused to look at them.

‘I don’t think it worked,’ Turin said finally.

‘Right,’ Beleg said. He slipped off upstairs. He found a full box of salt and then whatever herb jars that were in the cupboards and brought them down. Beleg set the salt and herbs down on the desk.

‘Looks like soup time,’ Andróg said.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Beleg said. He sat down and put his hand on Narn’s arm. ‘Narn?’

‘Yes?’ Narn looked at him. She still looked dazed.

‘Come.’

Beleg brought her into the bathroom. Túrin followed with the salt and herbs and shut the door on Andróg and locked it.

‘Um,’ Beleg said. He picked up the wooden bucket for the sauna and dumped in salt and herbs. ‘So I guess that maybe we could dump this over her head?’

‘This is a bad idea, and it will never work,’ Narn said. She was staring past them out the window in the sauna at the night sky.

‘That’s what Sauron would say if it would work,’ Túrin said.

Beleg stirred the “soup” in the sauna bucket with a ladle. It really did look like soup, but the bucket was far too small to cook anyone in. He sighed.

‘Are we just going to dump it over her head?’ Turin asked.

‘Sure,’ said Beleg. ‘That’s a sort of covering.’

‘I take offence to this,’ Narn said. She pointed at Túrin. ‘And I take offence to you!’

‘All right,’ Túrin said glumly. He was wondering what his mother would think about him striking a woman and then forcibly bathing her. Nothing good. But salt did help ward off evil. He’d seen his mother use it. It also warded off ants.

Beleg stood Narn over the drain in the floor.

‘Now, stay still,’ he said.

Narn jumped back.

‘No, it won’t work.’

Beleg sighed. He dumped the water over her head. Narn gasped. Beleg scrubbed at her skin and head with salt and a wash cloth. Narn groaned, and her lashes fluttered. Her eyes started to focus. Beleg put the shower on.

‘Rinse it off,’ he said gently.

Narn stood underneath the shower. The water poured off her and soaked her clothes.

‘Rude,’ she said. ‘But I think it worked.’ Her voice did not sound faint and far away now, and her eyes did not have the dazed look.

‘Good,’ Beleg said. ‘Excellent. Maybe this will work for us too.’ He started on another soup.

‘Okay,’ Narn said. ‘But please don’t get your clothes all wet after we just washed and dried them.’ She finished rinsing off and wrung her shirt out.

Beleg and Túrin left to get her some clean clothes.

‘Why didn’t we think of trying this earlier?’ Túrin asked.

‘Because curse breaking isn’t my speciality,’ Beleg said. ‘And I only just remembered.’

Narn left the bathroom dressed. Beleg and Túrin got Andróg and Mîm and another box of salt as well as every fancy salt shaker with pink salt or sea salt that they found. They stripped, dumped the “soup” over each other, and then rinsed off, dried, and dressed again.

‘And now we wait,’ Túrin said.

He went to Narn, who was on her laptop again, looking up more ways to break spells and curses – old and ancient ways – and fortunately not looking up how to Weapons Manufacture and Mind Control Drugs.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Sauron sent me a new email.’

She showed them. It read:

Dear Narn,

I didn’t expect you to be free that fast. I hate that. I really, really hate that. And when I hate something, I hurt it. I hurt it badly. I’m going to make you suffer. You’ll wish you were my mindless servant. You’ll plead for me to release you from the torment. You’ll beg. You’ll writhe in agony, wishing and whining that you were mindless and not suffering at my hands. You’ll—

And on and on as such for about five pages. Finished off with a simple: <3 Sauron

‘I guess he’s mad,’ Narn said.

She clicked reply and typed:

If you didn’t want your spell to be broken, maybe don’t make it so easy to break.

‘Please don’t send that,’ Beleg said.

Narn sighed.

‘Are you scared?’ Beleg asked.

‘I’ve been tortured before,’ Narn said. ‘Maybe not in his ways, but pain is pain, right?’

Beleg frowned.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Andróg asked.

Narn clasped her hands over her heart.

‘I didn’t get enough love in my childhood!’ She smiled sadly and stood. ‘I’m not putting my family at risk.’ She grabbed her backpack.

‘Are you then turning us into Sauron?’ Túrin asked.

‘He didn’t ask for you,’ Narn said. ‘He has a bigger plan now. And he has no grudge against my family, only me. And I can’t turn myself in, because he will only torture me. So I suppose you’re kidnapping me. Or...’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know how to make it so that I won’t be searched for. You can’t actually kidnap me. I… I suppose I have to run away. That’s a horrible thing to do to someone, but it is better than staying here and possibly getting them killed. So I’m running away.’

‘This is an interesting turn,’ Andróg said. ‘I would never have thought you would come willingly.’

Narn was already writing a note. She wrote very fast, front and back of a paper. She laid the note on the desk. Then she packed her bag very quickly.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

Chapter Text

‘For what safe lair can be there, or water, or any other thing that we need? I guessed that there was some trick. Do men hide on a hill-top?’ – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Narn turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door onto a small wooden entryway with big windows. She slid her shoes off and stepped aside so the others could enter. It was four in the afternoon.

They’d spent six hours on the train and then another four hours walking. They were very far from where they’d started.

The house was yellow with a red roof. There was a long red barn with a sauna and several little grey buildings and a big root cellar. It was Narn’s family’s farm, where her mother had grown up, and Sauron had no idea it existed.

Narn rubbed at the back of her neck. Túrin felt bad. She’d really done a lot for them, and he was less inclined to be angry with her now that he felt certain she wasn’t helping Sauron or Morgoth. Also since he hadn’t started turning into a toy when Andróg and Mîm had, so he was beginning to feel like the curse was broken, for him and Beleg at least. Maybe that whole kissing thing had worked. They’d all washed in the salt water, so it wasn’t that. And they still had to wait an entire day to be sure.

Narn went into the kitchen. She put the key on the long wooden table. The kitchen was also wooden – walls, floor, and ceiling – with a great brick wood stove. Túrin felt a pang of homesickness in his heart. Beleg touched his arm.

Narn sat down on one of the wooden benches running the length of the long wall. She ran her hand through her hair and let out a shuddering sigh.

Túrin wasn’t sure what to do. He sat down next to her on the bench and rested his hand on her shoulder.

‘Are you scared?’

They’d spent most of the time on the train telling her about Sauron and Morgoth and the sort of things that they got up to, which were generally all very unpleasant things. Narn had been very quiet the whole trip.

Narn shrugged.

‘It’s just… haven’t I suffered enough?’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Beleg asked. ‘That was a very personal experience. We got into some things that might be hard to think about?’

Narn shrugged again.

‘Let’s make dinner.’

Túrin nodded. It wasn’t like they could force her to talk about it.

‘Did your father torture you?’ Beleg asked.

‘Sometimes life sucks, you know?’ Narn stood up. ‘You’re scared I’m gonna break, aren’t you? But Sauron picked the wrong person. Okay? He made a fucking mistake. Because he thought I was just some stupid little girl, and I’m not. I don’t need a crash course in how sometimes people are evil. I know already! I know!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Beleg said.

‘Like, what do you want to know? That everything hurt and I thought I was going to die over and over and over and over? Do you want to know how they didn’t love me enough? Do you want to know how he hurt me? Are you going to fucking get off on it?’

Beleg stepped back.

‘That I think I might be in love with you or Túrin or both of you now because I can’t even remember the last time someone touched me that gently and it’s all I can think about because even after all of that, even after everything, I’m weak and I want to be loved, and I just want to be loved. Is that what you want to know?’ Narn’s voice had gotten cold. ‘That I want to be loved and I’ll never be good enough?’

Túrin glanced at Beleg. He had no idea what to do now. Beleg would probably have something wise to say, like that love wasn’t weak. That everyone needed to be loved and so wanting love wasn’t weak. Túrin could say something like that too, but the house, this kitchen, reminded him of his home, and he felt weak too.

‘Narn,’ Beleg said. Narn stared out the window. Beleg pulled her into his arms. He stroked her hair from the top of her head down her back and then started over. ‘I’m sorry.’

Túrin looked at Andróg. Andróg shrugged slightly. Túrin looked at Mîm. Mîm patted Túrin’s arm. Narn shook, weeping. Túrin rubbed her shoulder. It was a lot to take in. He still could scarcely believe she’d agreed to run off into the wild with four strangers.

For they were in the wild. They were far from everyone and everything on this little farm by a lake in the forest. There were other farms around the lake, but you could go outside and shout and no one would hear you.

Narn kept crying. She didn’t hug Beleg back. She just kind of sat there, in his arms. Túrin wished he could do more. He rubbed her arms up and down.

‘Make dinner,’ he said to Andróg. Andróg went to make pancakes.

Narn stopped crying as suddenly as she’d started.

‘I’m fine,’ she said.

That didn’t seem likely, but Túrin didn’t argue with her. He handed her the roll of paper towels that was on the counter. Narn took it. She went to look out the window. There were bushes and then a long stretch of untilled farmland and then the lake. The farm sat in disuse.

‘We can be friends,’ Túrin said. ‘I know that I have spoken unkind words.’

‘And I kept you underneath a spell when I shouldn’t have,’ Narn said. ‘I didn’t know what it was like.’

There. They made their apologies.

Narn checked her phone again. She sighed.

‘Are they angry?’ Beleg asked.

‘Yeah, of course.’ Narn sat down on the wooden bench by the table. She ran her hand through her hair again. ‘At least Sauron doesn’t know where we are. And this is a very magic place. We might be able to uncurse all of you here. Maybe find a way to return you. You need to sleep tonight and we’ll see if you don’t change back still.’

Beleg nodded. Andróg dropped butter into a frying pan. It sizzled. He added batter to make little pancakes.

‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘About the kettle hole lakes here. Maybe they were made by giants. But they could be magic. Because if the kissing worked, and the salt worked, then an awful lot of other things might work too. And I don’t want Sauron destroying this world. Because we have nuclear weapons, and if he gets his hands on those, it’s over. So we need to draw him back to your world... Or kill him.’

‘Right,’ Túrin said. Narn had briefly mentioned nuclear weapons before. He couldn’t imagine Sauron with nuclear weapons. Or machine guns. Or some of the other things Narn had mentioned in ‘world history lessons.’

‘All right,’ Túrin said. ‘Let’s start a war.’

Chapter Text

“On their deathbed men will speak true, they say.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

'So if I were Sauron, I'd work on establishing power and an army first and getting petty revenge on us later.’ Narn grabbed a wrench. ‘So we're going to have to stop him from that.'

Beleg’s brow creased.

‘If you were Sauron?’

‘Right.’ Narn smiled at him. ‘Think like the enemy to stop the enemy, right?’

‘No...’

Narn shrugged. She jumped up and pushed the bicycle back and forth.

‘All right, so this one is working. Do you know how to ride a bike?’

‘No.’ Beleg shook his head.

‘Guess you didn’t have bikes,’ Narn said. She gripped the handles and pushed the pedal forward and then hopped up on the bike as it moved forward. She rode it around the yard, around Beleg, Túrin, Andróg, and Mîm. Then hopped off again. ‘Try.’ She pushed the bike towards them.

Túrin took it. He stepped over the bar like Narn had done and held onto the handles. He pushed his foot down on the pedal, pushed forward, and fell down with a clatter onto his side.

‘Careful!’ Narn said after he’d already fallen.

Túrin grunted.

Narn pulled on her most serious face before Túrin could get mad at her for laughing at him.

‘It takes time to find the balance.’

‘Let me try,’ Beleg said because he was an elf and had heard the word balance and therefore needed to prove that he was the most balanced of all creatures in the world, as elves do.

Túrin got up and pushed the bike to him. Beleg studied it. He was taller than Narn, so he kept both feet on the ground as he balanced himself on the seat. He pushed the pedal down, and the bike rolled forward. He kept himself steady for a good three feet before toppling to one side and hopping clean off the bike before he fell.

‘Interesting.’

Narn pushed a second bike towards Andróg.

‘No,’ Andróg said.

Narn shrugged and stood back to watch Beleg. He was getting a bit farther each time he tried. Narn twisted her hair up into a bun and let it fall down again. Beleg was soon riding in circles around the yard looking undoubtedly pleased with himself. Narn went back into the garage part of the barn to hunt down another bike. When she came out, Beleg was already halfway down the dirt road away from the house towards the main road.

Narn frowned. She didn’t really feel comfortable being left alone with just the others. Well, Túrin was there. Narn went to sit close to Túrin with the third bike, which only needed air in the tires.

Túrin stood, shading his eyes, watching Beleg bike down the path and disappear into the pine trees. He frowned. Mîm watched Túrin for a bit and then went into the house and shut the door. Narn watched Túrin.

‘The kettle holes,’ she said finally. ‘Made by giants. We should dive into them.’

‘All right,’ Túrin said.

‘They’re magic places.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, all of this is a magic place. With magic stories and magic songs, and the whole area was once an island in the dead Baltic Sea. And it’s ancient, the magic, and well, we might find some answers here.’

Túrin sat down next to her and picked at the grass.

‘Do you love him?’ Narn asked.

‘More than life,’ Túrin said. He didn’t look up from the grass.

‘Then why not return to Doriath?’

Túrin fell silent.

‘Your pride will kill him,’ Narn said. ‘Kill you both.’

‘Don’t talk to me about my pride,’ Túrin said.

‘You say you love him.’

‘That doesn’t mean I have to do everything he says. He’s not forced to stay with me.’

Beleg came riding back. He hopped off the bike and lay it down on the grass.

‘Túrin, you’ll catch on fast.’

Túrin nodded and took the bike.

‘I’ll hold it for you,’ Beleg said. He walked alongside the bike as Túrin practised peddling and balancing. They went towards the road, and Narn followed them, not wanting to be left alone with the others. Beleg smiled at her. ‘So why did humans stop using horses?’

‘Cost I guess. Land required to house them. Cars are faster too. And it would be hard to keep horses in the city.’

‘I think I got it,’ Túrin said.

Beleg released the bike, and Túrin biked forward. He kept his balance and was soon quite a bit away ahead of them.

‘Brake is on handle!’ Narn called. ‘Squeeze slowly!’

‘All right,’ Túrin said but didn’t brake. He went on, hair blowing behind him.

Narn walked silently beside Beleg. It was 10.30 at night, and the sun had just set. The forest was filled with tall, narrow pine trees, and the sunset glinted behind their red trunks.

‘Did you kiss him after I kissed you?’ Narn asked.

‘Túrin?’ Beleg said. ‘Yes.’

‘Hmm,’ Narn said.

‘Of course we won’t be sure about anything until tomorrow,’ Beleg said. ‘But I think I, at least, am free. I feel different. Normal again. Before I felt as if my guts were cotton at all times, and I felt heavy, and stitched at the edges.’

Narn frowned.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Beleg said.

‘Sure.’

‘Will you be honest?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Can you try to be honest?’

‘Possibly.’

Beleg sighed.

‘Okay,’ Narn said. ‘One question. Totatally honest. But if it’s too rude, I’ll hit you after.’

Beleg smiled.

‘All right, best case scenario, we defeat Sauron, we get home, and you stay here, and no one ever knows what happened. How will you live with that?’

‘I guess I’m good at keeping secrets.’

Beleg raised an eyebrow.

‘Or I’d write a story about it and pretend it’s fiction. That works too, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose,’ Beleg said.

Túrin circled the bike back towards them.

‘So there are three bedrooms,’ Narn said. ‘Mîm will have to go in the little one because I don’t think he’d take to having a room mate. And only he and I are small enough to fit in the little bed. Then the attic room and the other bedroom have double beds. And I am not going to be room mates with Andróg.’

‘All right,’ Túrin said. He hopped off the bike. ‘You shouldn’t be room mates with Andróg.’

‘I’m not going to be room mates with Andróg,’ Beleg said.

‘I’ll be room mates with Andróg,’ Túrin said. ‘You and Beleg can sleep upstairs. Mîm will want me to stay close.’

‘Okay,’ Narn said. ‘And we’ll see how it goes after with the curse. And tomorrow we can go to the lake.’

Túrin nodded. He got back on the bike and headed back towards the farm. He circled back around again. Beleg smiled and shook his head. His gleaming hair fell over his face as he did.

‘Do you feel all right?’ Beleg asked her suddenly.

‘I guess,’ she said. ‘I’m tired. And we have to make the beds, and I want to wash up.’

‘Things will be better in the morning,’ Beleg said. ‘Well, I guess that depends on what Sauron does tonight.’

Narn nodded.

‘Guess so.’ Narn looked over the darkening fields at the lake which gleamed a deep silver in the last light of the day. ‘Well, we’ll know tomorrow. For now a shower and then bed.’

‘Yes,’ Beleg said.

They went back to the house and shut the door on the quiet night.

Chapter Text

‘There without a guide they might have laboured and clambered for days to find a way.’ - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Narn tossed a blanket down on the bed. She looked out the window at the sparkling lake. The wind was gentle on the fields and in the trees.

Beleg dropped a pillow on the bed. The room was quite small with red walls and one big window looking out on the fields and lake. Narn was staring out it because that’s literally all she ever did when encountering a window.

Beleg tossed his own blanket on the bed. He was a little glad that Narn didn’t seem to think a man and a woman sharing a bed was a huge scandal. Things would be a bit awkward if so. Though it could be because he was an elf and wasn’t counted as a man in her mind. He wasn’t sure.

Narn stretched and started to brush her hair.

‘Do you think they’ll be all right?’ she said.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Beleg assured. He could hear Túrin in the kitchen below them getting something to eat before he went to sleep.

‘I can sleep on the floor,’ Beleg said. ‘Or outside.’

‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ Narn said. ‘You’re...’

‘An elf?’

‘Yeah, that.’ Narn smiled brightly at him.

‘Well, all right then.’

Beleg lay next to Narn underneath his own blanket with little roses all over the cover. Narn had one that was the same.

‘Sometimes I kick in my sleep,’ Beleg said.

‘Sometimes I punch people in the face,’ Narn said. ‘In my sleep,’ she added. ‘Not usually when I’m awake.’

Beleg shook his head.

‘Sometimes I scream,’ Narn whispered. She looked out the window. ‘What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?’

‘I’ve seen many horrible things,’ Beleg said. He adjusted the pillow underneath his head.

‘Me too,’ Narn said. ‘But not in war. Do you think Sauron is going to find us?’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I never thought I’d say that for real.’

‘I don’t know,’ Beleg said. ‘I hope not. He doesn’t have many spies here.’

‘We ran far away,’ Narn said. ‘We should go out on the lake tomorrow. Do you like boating?’

‘Mhm, that sounds nice,’ Beleg said.

Narn smiled at him.

‘Well, good night,’ she said.

‘Good night.’

Beleg woke when Narn was still asleep. He sat up and stared out the window. It was still mostly dark, but the sun was rising slowly. A mist lay over the ground and the whole lake.

He went downstairs. Túrin sat at the table with a cup of tea. Beleg sat down beside him.

‘The curse was broken,’ Túrin said.

‘Yes,’ said Beleg.

Túrin didn’t look at him. He was wondering if that meant Beleg was his true love. It hadn’t worked for the others, so it couldn’t be just a kiss. But was it really that simple? Then he shook his head. Simple was the wrong word. Being in love with an immortal being could never be “simple.”

‘Beleg,’ he said. ‘What if I bring you grief forever? Or will you remember me? Do you forget easily, Beleg?’

‘I don’t,’ Beleg said. He pressed a kiss to Túrin’s cheek. Túrin passed a hand over his face.

‘Beleg...’ He stood. ‘Narn must wake the others.’

Beleg nodded.

‘In a bit. I want to sit in peace for awhile.’

‘There is no peace to be found,’ Túrin said, very dramatically, and with perfect sincerity, even though he was wrong. Peace can always be found, even in turmoil, just as hope can be found, even where there is none. It’s the way of the world, the way of survival. Túrin pushed the old sayings out of his head. They might be true, but he didn’t want to hear them. He picked up a letter opener and turned it around in his hands.

There was a very long silence. It was finally broken by the kitchen door opening. Narn came in.

‘Morning,’ she said. She put the kettle on.

‘We’re free of the curse,’ Beleg said. ‘It was true love’s kiss.’

Narn nodded.

‘They keep repeating the same ideas. Bad guys don’t tend to be very original.’

She sat down on the bench and looked out over the land and the lake.

‘We should go boating.’

‘All right,’ Beleg said.

The water was mirror clear when they pushed the boat out. It was a big row boat, red with three seats. Beleg rowed. Túrin and Narn sat on the middle row. Andróg was in the back. Mîm had declined on account of he hated the idea of being on the water. He was currently in the house with the fire going in the stove, very cosy.

Andróg didn’t say much. Truth was, he’d never been on a boat before. It was very strange to him. He kept his hands on the sides of the boat. It rocked a lot more than he expected for a boat on such still water.

He was being sulky about not having his curse broken. Why had it been the kiss and not the salt? He’d had salt water all over him, for goodness sake. It was a lot of salt. And for nothing? And he’d kissed everyone too. He held in a groan. This was supposed to be pleasant. The clouds were caught in the water, and it was very pretty and all that.

‘Have you heard anything from your family?’ Túrin asked Narn.

‘Yeah,’ Narn said. ‘They, um, want me to come back. I said I had run off to get married.’

‘Really?’ Beleg said.

‘Yeah,’ Narn said. ‘I mean, it was the best explanation I could think of. Like then I’d have a place to go and everything. So it was like oh look I eloped, etc. etc. But they want me to come back.’ She sighed. ‘I put them in a tight spot.’

‘Not as tight a spot as they’d be with Sauron,’ Túrin said.

‘Yeah, but I couldn’t explain that part.’ Narn trailed her hand in the water. ‘This is a really deep lake. It’s all like, because of the glaciers and stuff.’

Beleg nodded.

‘There was somewhere else we could go?’

‘To the kettle holes,’ Narn said. ‘They’re magic.’

‘Shouldn’t we have gone to them first then?’ Túrin said.

‘I don’t know,’ Narn said. ‘Thought maybe you’d want to rest a bit after that Traumatic Experience TM.’ She said the ‘TM’ too.

‘TM?’ Túrin said.

‘Trademarked!’

‘Mmm,’ Beleg said. And then he said, ‘Oh no.’

Because there had to be some point to the lake scene in the narrative experience, he had lost one of the oars. It had popped out of the hold, and he’d dropped it trying to put it back in.

Unfortunately for everyone on the boat, the wind was picking up, as the weather was wont to change quickly due to weather patterns of the region, but also for plot purposes. And now the dropped oar was very far from the boat.

Beleg tried to row back towards it with the one oar, but with the oar in its hold, they were just going in circles.

‘Damn,’ Túrin said. ‘Take it out. Like a river boat.’

‘I know what a river boat is,’ Beleg snapped. He pulled the other oar out of the hold because they were now very far from the lost oar and moving even farther away, due to the aforementioned wind. The very same wind rocked the boat very hard. It went up on a wave and crashed back down again. Andróg gripped at the sides. Beleg fell forward and dropped the other oar. He snatched for it, but it was going off sideways, and the boat was going up on another wave, and then down again, and both oars were, of course, very far away.

‘So this was a great idea,’ Andróg said. He was starting to feel very sick.

Up they went on another wave and then down again.

‘Just keep the boat steady,’ Narn said. ‘Does everyone know how to swim?’

‘No!’ Andróg cried.

‘I do,’ Beleg said.

‘Of course you do,’ Andróg grumbled.

‘It will be a quick storm,’ Narn said. ‘We get those up here. We will just ride it out.’

It started to rain. Now they were out on a very big lake in a red boat with both oars lost and pouring rain. They should have seen it coming, honestly.

‘It will be over in half an hour!’ Narn said. ‘These sudden ones don’t last long!’

The wind was very loud now. And the rain very hard.

‘What if the rain drowns us?’ Andróg said.

‘No, there’s a hole, there’s a hole,’ Narn said. She pointed to a hole on the side of the boat that was stuffed with a plastic bag. ‘We can pull that if that happens, but it shouldn’t. We won’t get enough rain.’

‘We might, actually,’ Túrin said. ‘Bad things tend to happen to me, no matter how improbable.’

‘Should have told us that sooner,’ Andróg grumbled.

‘Everyone, stay calm,’ Beleg said. ‘Even if we tip, we have the boat to hold onto. We can use it to get shore.’

‘Neithan,’ Andróg said. ‘I don’t want to drown.’

‘Beleg’s right,’ Túrin said. ‘We aren’t miles out on sea. We won’t drown.’

‘Yeah like I am supposed to trust your boyfriend when I’m the only one who can’t swim,’ Andróg said.

‘Then don’t let go of the boat,’ Beleg said. ‘And you won’t drown.’

‘We haven’t even flipped yet,’ Túrin said. He glanced at Beleg. Andróg had called Beleg his boyfriend. It wasn’t like Andróg hadn’t hinted that’s what he thought before, but he’d said it out loud for sure now. He’d never done that before. Probably because the word ‘boyfriend’ hadn’t been in his vocabulary or whatever, but he hadn’t called them lovers either.

And then, just as fast as it had come (or maybe a bit faster) the storm died out.

‘See?’ Narn said.

‘Yes,’ said Andróg impatiently. ‘But how the hell do we get back?’

Chapter Text

“I will slay you swiftly.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Beleg started to undress.

‘What the hell?’ Andróg said.

‘Fastest way to get back,’ Beleg said. ‘The cold won’t bother me.’

‘Can’t we just paddle with our hands?’ Túrin asked. ‘I don’t really know if I want you getting off the boat after that. As I mentioned, bad things tend to happen to me.’

‘To you,’ Beleg said. ‘Won’t hurt me.’

He smiled a little smile, and Túrin stared back at him, and there was the world’s most uncomfortable silence for a straight three minutes.

‘I die, don’t I?’ Beleg said at the exact three minute mark.

‘Um,’ Narn said. ‘Yeah.’

‘In your book,’ Túrin said.

‘Um, yeah. You all die.’ There was another uncomfortable silence. ‘It’s a tragedy.’

‘How do I die?’ Andróg demanded.

‘Um… in battle?’

‘Does Mîm die?’

‘Yes. Yes, you all die.’

‘That’s…’ Túrin licked his lip. ‘Do I die in battle?’

‘Ummmmmm…’ Narn twisted her hair around her hand. She was stuck in a very, very awful situation: On a boat with no oars in the middle of a lake with a cursed man, a half-naked elf, and another very sea-sick man, trying to figure out how to tell a once fictional, once a toy, very ill-fated son of Húrin that he, like, y’know, kills himself after marrying his sister. Oh, and she’s pregnant and kills herself too.

She looked to the far shore where the Kalevala village stood. Because from around this very lake the rune singers had sung of Väinämöinen, his wound, the birth of the harp, the maiden of the rainbow, as was recorded in the Kalevala.

‘No,’ she said. ‘You kill yourself. You kill Beleg too.’

‘Ha!’ Andróg said before he had a chance to stop himself.

Beleg pushed him off the boat in what could not even remotely be considered an accident.

See? Things were really bad. Túrin didn’t even comment though or try to stop it. He was staring in front of him in some sort of daze.

Andróg came spluttering to the surface.

‘Stop trying to drown me you blasted elf!’ he shouted as he gripped the side of the boat.

‘Just hold onto the boat,’ Beleg said dryly. ‘Kick your legs. And get us near the oar.’

‘You mean this oar?’ Sauron said, very dramatically. He’d been cloaking himself with invisibility for an uncomfortably long time, waiting for an opportunity to announce himself. Now he stood in his canoe, holding up their oar, and trying not to tip over, as standing in a boat is a very dangerous thing to do.

‘Oh, hell,’ Beleg said.

Sauron smiled a beautiful smile that was full also of evil and wickedness. In the boat with him was a bound and gagged Mîm and Thuringwethil, who was smiling an ugly smile full of evil and wickedness.

‘No, I meant the other one,’ Beleg said. He nodded to the other oar, which was still free floating about fifty metres away.

Sauron frowned. But then he tossed his hair (another dangerous move to make while standing in a canoe) almost tipped them over, and finally sat down.

Now how Sauron found them was like this: some birds are very evil, for no reason at all. They just live to cause grief. Not most birds, of course, but enough that he got a trail of them all the way across the country to spy out exactly where his enemies/victims were hiding.

‘Pull me up,’ Andróg said to Túrin. ‘I can’t swim. And there’s something in the water.’

Beleg looked over the side of the boat.

‘It’s probably just a serpent,’ he said, to be mean. Andróg had laughed at Túrin killing him, and Sauron had just appeared, and he was soaked to the bone, so he was not in a good mood.

‘It’s just monni,’ Narn said. ‘Or some other fish.’

‘I don’t like fish,’ Andróg growled. ‘Pull me up.’

‘What are you doing here, Sauron?’ Túrin asked.

‘Seriously,’ Narn said. ‘If you want to stay here and rule the world, you shouldn’t be running to a farm in the middle of nowhere. You should be….’ she stopped, not wanting to give him ideas. ‘You’re weirdly obsessed with us.’

Sauron glowered at them.

‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘I just want to make examples of you.’

‘I’m not joking,’ Andróg cried. ‘Something is touching me!’ He tried to haul himself into the boat. Túrin helped him up.

Beleg peered down into the water again.

‘What?’ Andróg said.

‘There’s… a long, long fish, like a serpent, in the water.’

‘Monni,’ Narn said.

‘With whiskers,’ Beleg said.

‘It’s a fucking catfish,’ Thuringwethil snapped.

Beleg dipped his fingers in the water. There was a ripple through the lake, and then Sauron’s canoe was knocked over. Sauron, Thuringwethil, and Mîm (still bound and gagged) fell into the water. Beleg leapt into the water and got Mîm in the chaos of the fall and the catfish swimming over Sauron. (Because some fish like to cause chaos for no reason at all.)

Beleg quickly unbound and gagged Mîm. Mîm spluttered for air.

Sauron came up with his hair plastered to his face in a way that made him very angry as it was not impeccable and super hot anymore.

‘Still, a catfish can kill you if you aren’t careful,’ Beleg said to Thuringwethil. This was true. Most things could kill you if you weren’t careful. Especially out on the water.

Thuringwethil flew up into the air.

‘Oh, hell,’ Andróg said. He’d decided that boats were his worst nightmare. Especially being trapped on a boat and being attacked by a vampire. Sauron shifted into a vampire too so that he could fly. They wheeled in the air over the row boat.

‘What the hell are they doing,’ Narn said.

‘Killing us,’ Andróg grumbled. He only had a knife with him. Túrin had his sword, thankfully.

‘But why?’ Narn said. ‘It doesn’t make sense. If he wants to stay here… Ah! I got it!’

‘What?’ Túrin said.

‘Morgoth has a portal open between your world and my world, because he is still contacting Sauron. If Morgoth finds out that Sauron is betraying him, he’s going to come after him. With his army. Sauron knows that.’

‘How does this help us?’ Beleg asked.

‘Because,’ Túrin said. ‘There’s something in the water.’

And with that, he tipped the entire boat over.

Andróg’s vision once again was covered with brown water, bubbles rushing around him, bits of sunlight blocked by the shadow of the boat. He kicked with his feet, but he didn’t know what he was doing. When Beleg had knocked him off the boat (the bastard), he’d at least had the time to grab the side of the boat. Now the boat was upside down, and he was sinking farther and farther away from it.

He could see Mîm sinking fast beside him. Túrin falling down too, weighed by his sword.

He was going to kill them all. Rather than be captured by Sauron and brought to Morgoth, he was going to kill them all. It wasn’t how Andróg had expected to die. Slain in battle was closer to a fitting end for him.

But Túrin had chosen suicide before, according to that book that he should have read. And he would choose it again.

The pressure in his lungs was building. Andróg let out the air in them in a burst of bubbles from his nose. He forced himself not to breathe in. His body turned in the water. He was facing down now. He couldn’t see the bottom. He could see long white and green stems from water plants that were rooted somewhere to the deep, dark bottom.

No one would ever know how he died. No one would remember what happened to him.

‘What the actual hell?’ Sauron said out loud. He’d stopped his wicked wheeling and was staring down into the water. ‘Are they… killing themselves?’

He was very peeved that they had guessed at what he was doing back. Yes, Morgoth’s thoughts were still turned on Túrin, and from that, he’d seen Sauron make his decision to let them go, and he wasn’t going to let Sauron just do what he wanted because he had to be in control of everyone and the most powerful etc. etc. and so forth and so on.

‘What is happening?’ Gothmog shouted from the shore. Morgoth had sent him to keep an eye or leash on Sauron (whichever was the more practical and necessary at the time). He had, however, elected not to go on the canoe due to a.) being too heavy b.) the high risk of burning it and c.) the risk of being extinguished in the water and, thus, dying.

‘Group suicide, it looks like,’ Thuringwethil said.

‘No, it’s a play,’ Sauron said. ‘It has to be a play.’ He was watching the water intently. Mîm or Narn would die first, he guessed. They were the smallest and had the smallest lungs. The others were all great fighters. And he could afford Narn or Mîm dying. He couldn’t afford Túrin dying, though. And he was sinking fast. The whole bottom of the lake was probably quicksand. It would be a bit of a trouble getting him out if he got stuck.

‘They’re trying to see if we need them alive?’ Thuringwethil said. She was watching too. They’d have to grab Túrin and Beleg first. Because they could not afford for them to die.

‘Yes. Or if the water is magic,’ Sauron said. ‘They figured out the salt water one fast enough.’

‘Is the water magic?’ Gothmog shouted. He didn’t like water, magic or not.

‘A bit,’ Sauron said. Well, quite a bit more than a bit. But it wasn’t magic enough to throw them into Middle-earth if they fell to the bottom. Well, probably not.

‘Fuck, the elf’s diving,’ Thuringwethil said.

Sauron frowned. Elves were obnoxious. They could hold their breaths for a whole thirty minutes or longer. Beleg could definitely check if the bottom was a portal.

‘But they can’t know we need them alive,’ he said.

‘He’s going to reach the bottom. Should we move?’

Sauron hesitated. He hated that Túrin was smart. Life would be so much easier if the children of the man Morgoth wanted to torture were all stupid. Well, Túrin was smart, but he let his pride get in the way of it.

‘Oh, hell,’ Sauron said.

Beleg had touched the bottom of the lake. And it had split open.

‘Get them.’

Thuringwethil dived for Beleg. She was faster. She grabbed him, talons on his shoulders, and ripped him up from the water and the sandy bottom of the lake that was opening onto the bottom of another lake in another world. It closed again as his hand was dragged from it.

Sauron got Túrin. He flew him to the shore and dropped him onto the grass near Gothmog. Gothmog threw a net over him. He threw a net over Beleg when he was dropped down too. And then came Narn and Mîm. Finally Sauron pulled up Andróg. He dropped him beside the others.

‘I think he’s dead,’ he said to Gothmog.

‘He wasn’t one of the ones that the boss cares about,’ Gothmog said with a shrug of his fiery shoulders.

‘Andróg!’ Túrin cried.

‘You should get used to killing your friends, honestly,’ said Sauron, who had read the entire collection of every published Tolkien work one rainy afternoon. He really didn’t approve of his portrayal.

Honestly. And the ending of everything was bad. Learn how to wrap up a story, John. And there was no world in which he was going to just become some shrinking shadow running around all injured and tragic like what’s-his-name, second son of Fëanor. Like that boy hadn’t even gone to rescue his brother.

Sauron himself had seen defeat after defeat and still risen to make the worst civilisation the world had ever seen. He’d pat himself on the back if his wings didn’t get in the way.

‘Okay, we’ve got them,’ Thuringwethil said. ‘What next, boss?’

Sauron’s lip twitched.

‘Have to change history.’

‘Right, but how?’ Gothmog said. ‘You can’t just say dramatic things and then leave us all hanging.’

Sauron sighed. For a fire demon, Gothmog really didn’t know how drama worked.

Andróg took in a deep, shuddering breath. Oh, so he wasn’t dead. Great.

‘I’m thinking,’ Sauron said.

‘Oh.’ Gothmog nodded.

They all stood on the shore. Sauron watched the boats bobbing along by themselves.

‘Well, we can bring those in,’ Sauron said. He and Thuringwethil dragged the boats back to shore and then flew their bound prisoners back to the farm house and dropped them on the yard.

‘Gothmog, get the fire going. We can’t lose the humans. And they catch cold and all that.’

‘Are we bringing them straight back to Morgoth though?’ Gothmog asked.

‘Oh. No. Not yet.’ Sauron shook his head. ‘I have to read some more and bring some of these technologies back with me.’

Gothmog nodded. He dragged the netted prisoners into the house and started up the wood stove with one fiery breath. Then he stood awkwardly in the wooden room before going back out again and finding himself a place in the stone root cellar to take a nap. He shut the cellar door and settled down.

Thuringwethil strode around the kitchen chuckling wickedly to herself. She loved having prisoners. And the nets were strong enough to keep an elf bound, so they weren’t getting out anytime soon.

‘Did you inhale any water, Andróg?’ Narn asked.

‘Yes,’ Andróg said. He was in a horrid mood. He’d almost drowned and he still didn’t know for what. Túrin had tried to kill them all? Well, that would have been better than being bound here to face whatever tortures those demons could think of.

‘You might still drown,’ Narn said.

‘That’s true,’ Beleg said. ‘If you have enough water in your lungs. Do you have difficulty breathing? Speaking? Are you irritable? Well, more than usual? Are you having chest pain? Do you need to cough? Are you sleepy?’

Andróg groaned.

‘My head hurts.’

‘Be quiet, all of you,’ Thuringwethil said.

Sauron strode in. He went into one of the bedrooms and came back with blankets. Then cut off their wet clothes and dropped blankets on them.

‘I literally don’t have any other clothes,’ Beleg said.

Sauron rolled his eyes. He’d resumed his normal form, with perfect hair again.

‘You don’t need clothes for torture.’

Narn sighed.

‘Oh, god, not again.’

Sauron sneered at her.

‘I’m bored,’ Mîm said after twenty minutes of Thuringwethil strutting and Sauron sneering had passed. (It felt less for them because they were Maiar.)

‘That’s weird,’ Andróg said.

‘Also, I’m hungry. Might like some fish.’

Sauron glared at Mîm. He still had not forgiven the catfish.

‘You will speak when spoken to.’

Mîm fell silent. It really was quite boring. You’d think that being captured by Sauron for Morgoth and waiting to hear what would happen to you would be terrifying and you wouldn’t have enough feelings left to be bored, but it was really just a drag lying on the floor in nets and then a blanket waiting for your hair to dry.

Narn stared up at the brick oven. It was quite cosy even with the vampire and dark lord hanging around the kitchen. The net was a bit uncomfortable, sure, but she was still quite small, and it didn’t fit her as snugly as it fit, say, Túrin. She was trying to assess whether she could get out of it, given a chance. The blanket was a nice covering for sneakily fidgeting under the blankets, and staring at the brick was a good way to give her mind a main thing to concentrate on if Sauron was reading her thoughts. But she doubted he was.

She wasn’t certain what she could do even if she got out of the net. Attack Sauron and Thuringwethil by herself? No, definitely not.

If they were left alone, she might be able to free the others. Beleg first. He was the oldest, and an elf, so he’d know more about fighting them. But Sauron and Thuringwethil had literally no where to go.

It would be a real break if Beleg was a mind reading type. But she’d been saying ‘Beleg’ in her head for the past five minutes with no response. It was a bit annoying too since she tended to lean towards the “psychic” aspect of humans. Like visions, dreams that came true, reading playing cards, etc.

She was slowly getting her hand from beneath her blanket to beneath Beleg’s blanket. Honestly, Sauron should have wrapped them up. She tried not to think about that in case he saw it.

So she had one arm free. Shoulders were the hardest, so she should be able to get out of the net now. Seriously it was lucky she’d spent a good portion of her life trying to wiggle through ridiculously tight spaces. Her fingers touched Beleg’s skin.

Beleg drew in a soft breath. Okay. Narn had gotten at least one hand free. Good. Mîm could probably do the same too. These nets had been made for tall men. He wasn’t really sure what they could do in terms of fighting three Maiar, though.

Just hope they lucked out and were left alone enough to try that lake again? There was definitely magic running through this place.

Narn slid the other side of the net off her other shoulder bit by bit over the next hour, a fraction of a centimetre with each breath.

Now she was free enough to get out of the rest of the net with one sudden move or another five hours of this.

Sauron was making muffins and Thuringwethil seemed to be musing over who would make the best dinner.

‘I need to take a leak,’ Andróg said.

‘Hold it,’ Sauron said.

‘Really badly.’

‘Hold it.’

‘What are we waiting for?’ Túrin said.

‘Morgoth,’ Sauron put the muffins in the oven. 'He should be here soon.'

Chapter Text

“...and the smoke of their vengeance rose black into heaven, and the wind bore it away westward.’ - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

Beleg froze. Morgoth was coming there. They didn’t have a chance once he got there. Not a single chance. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t like they had much of a chance now. Most hope had vanished the moment that he had been ripped away from the something at the bottom of the lake. The something in the water. Now he was bound and naked on the floor. The ropes were cutting into his skin. They would have to make a move soon.

He hoped Narn would have enough sense to get him free first. She seemed to. She was still touching his arm.

Sauron hummed as he watched the muffins in the oven and the prisoners, one after the other.

Thuringwethil rubbed her face.

‘I’m getting hungry.’

‘You can feed off the other man,’ Sauron said, like he hadn’t bothered to learn his name. He had, but he didn’t feel like making him important, so he was leaving out his name for the sake of appearing superior. This had nothing to do with not remembering exactly how to pronounce it.

Thuringwethil stood. Andróg shuddered. Then he shuddered again, harder, as a dark shadow rose over the window, blocking the setting sun.

‘That was fast,’ Sauron said. He skipped to the door and opened it.

Morgoth stood in the yard. He didn’t come inside because he didn’t fit through the door. There were some problems with being thirty something feet tall.

‘Hello, Lieutenant,’ Morgoth said.

‘Hi, boss.’ Sauron bowed his head. He was hoping that Morgoth wouldn’t be too mad. It’s not like he knew what Sauron had been plotting, right? All he knew was that he’d let Túrin and his company go free instead of taking them back to him.

Morgoth smacked him.

Well, that wasn’t too bad. Sauron motioned to the house.

‘He’s in there.’

‘Then bring him out.’

Sauron hurried into the house and grabbed Túrin by his net. He dragged him outside over the floor and down the two steps. He threw Túrin down at Morgoth’s feet.

‘Here’s the son of Húrin.’

Morgoth nodded. He looked down at Túrin with a malicious gleam in his eyes. It was because he had malicious intent. He was so evil. He loved that about himself. Actually he loved everything about himself. That’s why he thought he should be ruler of the world. He would be too. If he could just rip down the stupid elf cities with their stupid strongholds. Fucking Húrin.

Thuringwethil went outside to see what would go down. Dinner could wait.

Narn sat up, still keeping low to the floor so they wouldn’t notice. She undid Beleg’s net where it was tied around his neck. It was tight, but it wasn’t a magic knot. Beleg scrambled free of it, also keeping low.

Thuringwethil hadn’t closed the doors when she’d left, but there wasn’t a clear eye line to Morgoth and the others. They couldn’t see Morgoth, and Morgoth couldn’t see them.

Narn turned to untie Andróg and Mîm, but their blankets had fallen. She pulled the blankets back. Right, they hadn’t been kissed by anyone by her. They turned into toys faster. It had been long enough.

‘Don’t turn them,’ Beleg said, so quiet he was almost mouthing the words. ‘We’re going to run.’

‘And leave Túrin?’ Narn asked, just as low.

‘For now… We don’t have enough strength.’

They didn’t even have their weapons.

‘The kitchen window isn’t open,’ Narn said.

‘Will be too much noise. The window in the back bed room is open.’

‘That’s less noise?’

Beleg nodded. He grabbed Narn’s bag and shoved the Mîm and Andróg plush toys into it. He slid across the floor silently on his blanket and grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter. He gathered the nets onto the blanket and then slipped across the kitchen floor and into the living room. He waited. No one came after them. He could hear Morgoth droning on in some dramatic and evil monologue. He would have to leave Túrin. Make a plan. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even have the start of a plan. His head hurt trying to think of one.

If they were taking Túrin back to Angband… He couldn’t think of that now. He moved forward again.

Narn was behind him, copying him, pressing her hands to the floor and pulling herself forward with her arms and the blanket across the floor. It was muffling the noise.

Beleg slid into the back bedroom. The window was open onto the backyard. He hesitated. His heart was telling him to stay, but his head head knew that they couldn’t win. They would all die. They had to run and regroup. He stood, wrapping the blanket around him like a cloak. It was green. That was good. He slipped out the window.

Narn followed him. She’d grabbed some other cloth. He didn’t know what it was. But that was good. They didn’t even have shoes. They were going to need to stay alive. The night would be cold. Maybe they would stay the night. More likely Morgoth would move faster.

Beleg ducked down into the weeds behind the house. Narn followed. And so they slipped away from the house and into the woods. The ground was rough and already cold. He only had a kitchen knife. Morgoth was just a few metres away. And Sauron. And Gothmog. And Thuringwethil.

Húrin had really pissed Morgoth off. Really bad.

They needed an army. They weren’t going to get one. Narn ducked to one side and grabbed a rusty old axe from a rotting store house.

They went on.

With every step, Beleg’s heart fell. Finally, he stopped. He opened the bag. Narn dressed quickly into a dress and leggings and pulled on a grey sweater. Beleg managed to put on penguin pyjama bottoms and a men’s red plaid flannel shirt. They put on socks.

The cloth Narn had grabbed contained sheets. They ripped them and wrapped them around their feet for shoes.

‘What do we do?’ Narn said. ‘What was on the bottom of the lake?’

‘A chance,’ Beleg said. ‘Maybe our only chance.’

‘Beleg.’

‘Yes?’

‘They can be killed, right?’

‘Yes. But… with an army.’

‘What about a gun?’

‘Do you have a gun?’

‘The neighbours will have a gun. Everyone hunts here. They’ll have to.’

‘And… a car,’ Beleg said.

‘Yes.’

Beleg turned to her. He put his hands on her shoulders. What was he supposed to say? Rescuing Túrin would be a suicide mission, most likely.

‘I drive, and you shoot,’ Narn said. ‘And Andróg grabs Túrin, and we drive into the lake. It’s all very desperate.’

Beleg shook his head slowly.

‘They’re… They’re all so strong.’

‘Can’t they be shot through the head?’

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘But Fingolfin could hurt Morgoth badly enough to make it hard for him to walk!’ Narn said, still in a whisper, but a sharp one. ‘And he can be afraid!’

‘Yes.’

‘So let’s shoot them from a distance and then drive a car at them.’

Beleg nodded slowly.

‘We won’t get him back if they take him to Angband. And they’ll notice we’re gone.’ Beleg squared his shoulders. ‘We have to act now. But, here we must part ways.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Because either we’ll die, or we’ll return to our world, and you can’t have either option. It’s not your world and not your battle.’

Narn leaned against a tree.

‘Damn.’

‘What?’

‘Who’s gonna drive?’

‘Andróg, I guess.’

‘Mmm. But we’re not parting ways yet. First we have to go rob the neighbours.’

‘Right.’

Robbing the neighbours was easy. Beleg was an elf, after all. He got the hunting rifle, the car keys, and the bullets, and no one even noticed he was in the house.

Narn waited outside, shivering. Her feet were cold without any shoes, even with the cloth.

This really was an outlaw life, even here. It was a long fifteen minutes to wait, thinking something would go wrong at any moment. (Which was true.) But it was going to be over soon, wasn’t it? Beleg had said she wasn’t going to come with them.

She closed her eyes. Tried to pull it together. It wasn’t like she’d known them long. It wasn’t like she was desperately in love with them or anything. It wasn’t like Beleg had held her more gently than anyone ever had ever. She punched her fist against her palm three times.

But damn. Beleg hadn’t thought of something. They had one car. She wouldn’t be able to hide from the bloody Ainur.

If Andróg succeeded in driving them into the lake and left behind wounded Ainur. Well, she wouldn’t be able to hide from them wounded or perfectly healthy. And if Beleg attacked them and got caught, well, Sauron still had a grudge against her.

This was a terribly bad situation. She hummed. It would be safer in the car if they didn’t shoot them all dead. And come on there was no way they were going to shoot Morgoth, Sauron, Gothmog, and Thuringwethil all dead with one hunting rifle.

‘Okay,’ Beleg said, when he came back. ‘Let’s go.’

They hopped into a stolen Volvo and drove the car fast away. The neighbours didn’t have time to open their door before they were gone.

Narn told Beleg what she’d been thinking when he’d been robbing.

Beleg was quiet.

‘Right,’ he said finally. ‘So you drive the car.’ She was driving it anyway. And it wasn’t like Andróg knew how.

‘Did you know anything that they were saying?’ Narn asked.

‘Yes,’ Beleg said. ‘I guess Morgoth made it possible for me to understand any language, because I did. They’re taking him to Angband.’

‘How? Where?’

‘Do you know why Sauron wants to stay here but Morgoth doesn’t?’

‘Mmm. Morgoth wants a world he shaped himself,’ Beleg said. ‘Sauron is okay controlling a world someone else made.’

‘Okay. So Morgoth’s going to win about going back?’

‘Yes.’

‘And we can’t really hide from them.’

‘No.’

‘And if they get him to Angband, he’s never going back?’

‘Probably not.’

‘But what about the whole kill his best friend, ruin the whole city, sleep with his sister, double suicide thing? Like I think that was a damn good plan to start with.’

Beleg shot her a side glance.

‘As far as evil plans go,’ Narn said.

‘I don’t think he realised it was going to work out that well.’

‘Or you’re just from a different parallel world of the world I read about.’

Beleg sighed.

‘Please don’t bring up the multiverse theory again.’

‘Did I bring it up before?’

‘Yes.’

Narn nodded. She looked out the window, as was her wont. Fortunately it was the wind shield window and as such was the window she was supposed to be looking out of.

‘I think I’d die anyway,’ Beleg said.

‘What?’

‘If Túrin died. I’d die. I love him. I’m in love with him.’

‘Mhm. Do you discuss this with him?’ Narn was feeling like this was going to be therapy again.

‘Not really.’

Narn nodded. She pulled the car onto the road that was across the field from her farm house. Morgoth was still in the yard, still talking, and no one seemed to have noticed that not only were they gone, they had been missing for a good two hours.

‘That’s a lot of narcissism,’ Narn muttered.

‘Yeah,’ Beleg said. He turned around and took the Andróg and Mîm toys from the bag. He set them on the back-seat.

‘Do I bring them to life now?’ Narn said. Then, ‘Hey! Hey, they’re wearing their clothes.’

Beleg looked back. It was the first time he’d looked closely at the toys. Sure enough, they were back in their clothes, with their little plush weapons.

‘Oh, that’s interesting,’ Narn said.

‘Okay, bring them back.’

Narn kissed them both. They shot back to life. Andróg banged his head on the roof of the car. His knees banged into the back of the seat in front of him.

‘God,’ he groaned.

Beleg kissed them both so they would stay real for a whole day.

‘Morgoth’s curse is turning a bit against him, I see,’ Mîm said. He pulled off his pack. ‘I’ve got poison in this.’

‘Amazing,’ Beleg said. ‘We have a rifle, Andróg's knife, poison, and the rusty old axe.’

‘I have a knife too,’ Mîm said.

Beleg got out of the car. He aimed the rifle at Morgoth. Taking him out would be amazing if he could. He’d watched a bunch of videos about shooting on Narn’s phone, which had thankfully been in her bag, and not drowned in the lake.

He was aiming for the back of his head, away from his crown. Fortunately because of that crown and his pride, he wasn’t wearing a helmet. But a Vala’s skull might be as thick as steel. Who knew? No one had ever killed one.

He took the shot.

He was shocked he got a hit the first time. It was in Morgoth’s neck, not his head, but it was a hit.

He shot again. Another one. Morgoth rubbed at the back of his neck and head.

Beleg shot the three next shots. Two of them hit Morgoth’s head. One flew past and didn’t make contact.

Beleg reloaded the rifle. He sent the next two bullets at Thuringwethil, who was flying fast at him. One hit her chest, one her wing. She fell to the ground. Three at Gothmog, who was running straight at them. They slowed him, but he was still coming. Sauron had disappeared from his sight.

‘Where’s Sauron?’ Beleg asked.

‘Behind the sauna,’ Narn said. ‘I think he’s thinking what form to assume.’

‘Damn.’

Narn slammed Beleg’s door closed and hit the accelerator pedal to the floor, straight at Gothmog. It was seven seconds until impact. This was stupid if Gothmog would blow the car up with his fire, but he was coming too fast.

Gothmog bounced off the hood of the car. It was like hitting a deer more than hitting a moose, thank goodness. Gothmog rolled off into the ditch. The car didn’t have fire on it. Narn hit the brakes.

Beleg jumped back in. Narn drove the car fast towards the yard.

It wasn’t like she’d ever driven over anyone before, but she’d just hit someone so might as well add it to the list. She drove straight over Thuringwethil. The car jumped a bit.

Sauron was still not to be seen. That was bad.

Morgoth stumbled around the yard, hand to his head. He was bleeding.

Narn slammed the brakes. Andróg jumped out and grabbed Túrin from the ground and flung them both back into the back-seat.

Morgoth wheeled. He’d been trying to stamp Túrin beneath his foot. Now he tried for the car.

Narn reversed it. She drove it backwards until she hit a bush and then wheeled it back towards the road.

Gothmog was up again. Thuringwethil was too.

‘Duck!’

An arrow hit the window as Beleg and Narn ducked. Narn pressed down on the accelerator again, driving straight forward. Thuringwethil bounced off the hood.

This was feeling normal now, much too quickly.

Then what Narn had feared. A loud noise. The car tipped off balance. One wheel was shot flat. Narn kept going. This was going to destroy them.

Beleg leaned out the window and shot back at Sauron. He got one bullet in his shoulder and another in his side.

Andróg leaned out the window, rusty axe in hand, aiming for Gothmog. Gothmog jumped out of the way of the car. Beleg thought for a moment of throwing a net on him, but it wouldn’t do much good, since one of his friends would get him free and then they’d have a net.

He shot at Gothmog, but couldn’t tell if he hit him. The ride was so bumpy now.

‘It’s not going to last,’ Narn said. ‘Are they out?’

‘Wounded.’ Beleg looked over his shoulder. ‘All wounded.’

Narn nodded. She drove as far and as fast as she dared.

‘That’s a damn good weapon,’ Andróg said.

Beleg nodded. He felt shaky, but Túrin was in the back-seat. He hadn’t said anything. Beleg looked back at him.

Túrin's mouth moved, but he didn’t speak. He swallowed.

‘Beleg,’ he said.

Narn stopped the car. She turned it off, popped the trunk, and ran around to it. Thank goodness there was everything she needed.

‘Get out of the car!’ She ordered. They all listened without question. She loosened the wheel, jacked the car up, threw the wheel off and to the side of the road. Probably the first time I’ve littered, she thought bitterly as she shoved the spare tire on and tightened it on. Lucky she was fast at this, having changed the summer and winter tires for years now. Could change a tire in her sleep.

‘Back in the car,’ she said, throwing the tools back into the trunk. She threw the tire in too so it wouldn’t litter and also wouldn’t leave a trail.

Everyone got back in the car. Túrin was free from his net now.

Narn started the car again.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Where are we going?’

Chapter Text

'You think of yourself and your own glory, and bid us each do likewise; but we must think of others beside ourselves, for not all can fight and fall, and those we must keep from war and ruin, while we can.’ – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

'You reload fast,’ Narn said as she sped the car down the lake road. ‘That was good. That was really good.’

‘Yeah,’ Beleg said. He sucked his breath in.

The lake. They were going to the lake. They were going to drive into the lake.

They were speeding past little farms. They were going too fast. But it didn’t feel fast enough. He looked over his shoulder. He could make out the shadow of Morgoth behind them. The bullets had been good, but they wouldn’t be enough to stun them for long. Definitely not enough to kill them.

Narn slowed the car down a bit and then swerved hard to the left. They left the paved road and were on a dirt road leading to the lake. A boat road. And they were going to drive into the lake. Right. This was smart. This made sense.

Beleg reached behind him and grabbed Túrin’s hand.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he said.

‘We’re doing this?’ Narn said. She’d stopped the car. They were looking down a steep hill at the lake below them. A dock stretched into the water a bit one one side, and there was a space to put a boat in on the other.

‘We’re doing this,’ Beleg said. He saw Thuringwethil rising into the air across the lake at the house. ‘It’s all we’ve got.’

One bad chance being all you’ve got is a rough place to be in, but all of them had been in that kind of a rough spot before, so they didn’t dwell as much on it as someone who was experiencing ‘one bad chance is the only chance’ for the first time might.

‘Right,’ Narn said. She rolled down the windows, in case there was nothing but a bottom of a lake, and they might want a shot at getting out of there. ‘Beleg. Andróg’s knife. Cut us free if the seatbelts jam.’ Beleg nodded. ‘Mîm, you cut the others free.’

Mîm nodded. Andróg handed Beleg his knife.

‘Best of luck.’

‘It’s been good to know you,’ Narn said. Just in case. Been in enough scrapes and you know there’s always a chance that’s the last scrape. Túrin nodded once. Beleg mumbled a, ‘and you.’

‘Fuck,’ Andróg said, because that’s one of the most common last words, truth be told.

‘Shit,’ Mîm said, because that’s another.

Narn hit the accelerator. Beleg squeezed Túrin’s hand.

‘I love you,’ he said. (Another fine choice for last words, but ranking below both Fuck and Shit, honestly.)

‘Well, let’s see what happens,’ Narn said as the Volvo jolted down the hill, aiming towards the dock. Another set of Very Common Last Words, alongside, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’, ‘Here goes nothing,’ and ‘I wonder what this does?’

The car hit the dock. The wood rumbled beneath it, splitting in some places. And then the car hit the air, flying through it for a moment, like it was magic and not just obeying the laws of physics.

It dipped forward. Beleg felt his organs jolt. It hit the water, and the water swept up over the car, cracking the wind shield.

‘That’s very white,’ Narn said, which are not common last words at all, but did fit the view of the water foaming at the glass. Then it was dark, and the pressure was growing, and they were sinking so fast, and the water was dark with bubbles rushing around them, rushing in through the windows.

Beleg’s airbag went off. The driver’s side failed. Narn slammed against the steering wheel. In the back seat, the others were crouched in ‘impact’ pose.

Narn coughed out.

‘Oh, that’s blood,’ she said. (Also ranking high in last words.)

And then they were under water completely. The sudden cold of it shocked Beleg into action. His seatbelt was jammed. Narn slumped backwards, fumbling for her seatbelt. Beleg cut himself loose and then Narn.

He breathed out, and his breath came out in little bubbles. They floated upwards.

The stolen Volvo hit the bottom of the lake. The bottom was sand. It sunk into it fast, and it was dark, and they were going down. Beleg shoved Narn towards her window, then changed his mind and dragged her towards his. She’d hit the steering wheel hard.

Nothing had happened. The bottom was just a bottom. (Ha.)

(You do think of stupid jokes when you’re dying. Sometimes you laugh at them.)

Beleg was halfway out the window when the bottom of the lake suddenly fell to pieces, and he had five seconds to push himself back into the window before he was split in half by a rock that came out of nowhere and then the car was slamming into a rocky bottom in glass clear water.

Blood rose up around them, finally visible. The car tipped to the right. Beleg slammed against the rocky bottom of whatever this lake was, Narn on top of him.

Narn dragged herself out the driver’s window. Beleg followed. The back seat was already empty. He wasn’t sure where the others were though. He kicked upwards, not letting go of Narn’s hand. The water wasn’t deep, maybe eight feet, and he surfaced fast. There were in a lake in a green forest.

Túrin stared at them.

‘You’re alive,’ he said. This sadly also ranks fairly high in last words. Fortunately, at this time, none of these were last words.

Well, at least not those ones.

‘I don’t know where Andróg is,’ Túrin said.

Beleg looked around. ‘I don’t know where we are.’

Chapter Text

Then Thingol said to Beleg: ‘Now I have hope in the quest! Go with my good will, and if you find him, guard and guide him as you may.’ – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

‘Neithan!’ Andróg called from deeper in the lake. ‘I’m all right! I’m alive!’ And he was.

But then he wasn’t.

Arrow to the eye out of nowhere and Andróg fell beneath the clear water, blood rising around him. Túrin made for him, but by then it was too late. He was dead in the water.

Tragic. Really. If you cared for him.

Narn did not. She had instead dropped down beside the car in the water, because she did not want to be shot.

The water here was shallow enough that she could stand in it, holding onto the frame of the Volvo. She looked around the woods for any movement.

Okay, that was an orc. Cool.

Narn sighed. What was the point of a fall-into-Middle-earth story if Elrond wasn’t even alive yet?

No, she shouldn’t have been sighing about that with murderous enemies about them, but she wasn’t considering if sighing about an Elrond was an appropriate response.

Beleg shot the orc down. He was looking around for others. Mîm was holding onto the frame of the Volvo too, given that he was short enough that he couldn’t stand in the water, and he also couldn’t swim.

Wait. Narn paused. Maybe Elrond was alive. Like, that was an orc and everything, but there wasn’t really anything saying what time in Middle-earth this was.

‘What year is it?’ she asked out loud, as if an orc would answer her. Also, she was speaking English, and even if the orc had been inclined to answer her, she wouldn’t have known what she was saying. Beleg shot the other orc down. There was another orc behind her, but an elf arrow took him down.

‘Fucking hell,’ said a rough voice.

A man stepped out of the forest, bow drawn on them. But he lowered it when he got a clear view of who he was looking at it.

‘Who are you?’ he asked in a language that Beleg understood given the whole ‘Morgoth let him understand any language and that was not a curse and had not been broken’ thing.

‘Beleg,’ Beleg said, in Sindarin. ‘Of Doriath.’

The man stared at him. ‘What?’ he said, also in Sindarin.

‘Beleg Strongbow of Doriath,’ Beleg said. He had his hands up in surrender. Mîm was hiding behind the Volvo, and invisible right then. Narn was staring at the man and the other man behind him. She was still gripping the Volvo. Túrin was holding Andróg’s dead body in his arms, and Andróg was, well, dead.

‘This is Túrin, son of Húrin,’ Beleg said. ‘And his companion.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘But I think he’s dead.’

Túrin stared blankly at Beleg.

‘And our companions Mîm the dwarf, and Narn of...’ Beleg paused.

‘Narnia,’ Narn said, to be annoying.

‘Narn of Narnia,’ Beleg repeated. He paused and looked over his shoulder at Narn, surprised that she’d understood him. But he was speaking Sindarin, and she had been picking it up and studying it ever since they’d come, so she knew he was making introductions.

‘Um, okay,’ the man said. He kept staring at them. ‘You’re… you’re Beleg and Túrin. From Doriath. Okay.’ He turned to the very tall man behind him. ‘Well, fuck me.’

‘No, thank you,’ the other man said.

And it was in this fashion that they met the Rangers of the North and learned that they were supposed to be dead (Narn excluded, though she wasn’t supposed to be there at all), and only Andróg had managed that.

But their weapons. Their knowledge. Their accounts matched everything these Rangers (led by the tall man called Strider, of course) knew about the (immensely tragic) tale.

Beleg decided to keep his mouth shut about the whole ‘turned into toys’ bit but he did mention that they had been in Narn’s world (Narnia, she reminded him) and that they had fled from Morgoth, hoping to return to Middle-earth. And they had. They just hadn’t got the right time.

‘Honestly probably worlds better for you,’ Narn muttered near the Volvo. She wanted to get out of the water, as she was becoming cold, and was now worried about hypothermia.

Also she was still dressed in the stupid remnants of the clothes she’d been wearing, of which the dress had torn quite badly in the crash. One sleeve was coming off. Not to mention her head was bleeding. Beleg was much the same, minus the head injury. Túrin was still completely naked, a fact which no one had commented on since he was holding Andróg’s dead body in his arms and was standing in the little lake.

And so they came out of the lake under the watchful eyes of the rangers. Narn wondered if Beleg was going to have to run around Middle-earth in penguin pyjama pants. That was quite comical. She didn’t even care that Andróg was dead, given that she didn’t like him, what with all the explicit murdering and implicit raping. In fact, she was rather glad he was dead.

Mîm was delighted that Andróg was dead. He was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. He was smiling far too much for a dwarf who had just barely escaped the clutches of Morgoth.

Or maybe there’s never a better time to smile.

But now they were with the rangers. Strider stared at all of them. He was trying to piece this together. Really, he was going to have to talk to Gandalf. He sighed. And Elrond.

But he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to drag The Túrin Turambar to Rivendell and hope that their luck held out more strongly than Túrin’s bad fate would cause. He’d probably want them to build a big bridge across the ford or something.

Anyway, he just plain didn’t like this.

He searched them over, but he couldn’t find anything to disprove their claims. And that thing sitting in the lake seemed to prove everything. He frowned. He fixed up the cut on Narn’s head, the cuts on Túrin’s hands, the cut on Mîm’s shin, and the two cuts on Beleg’s shoulder. He checked them for internal bleeding and concussions and all that, but they had done pretty well, no broken bones or ruptured organs. Everyone would be fine.

Well, except Andróg.

Strider then went to check out the Volvo that the other rangers had already checked on and then he brought them to his little Ranger Camp where Rangers did Ranger Things in the Ranges.

He got them in blankets while they waited for their clothes to dry and talked to Túrin about whether they should bury or burn Andróg’s body. Or, well, he tried to talk to Túrin. Túrin was pretty quiet.

‘Whatever is faster,’ Mîm said, a bit gleefully.

Strider looked him over. Well, he knew enough about history to understand where Mîm was coming from. They settled on burning Andróg.

So Túrin got Andróg’s (pretty much together) clothes and a warmer tunic from Strider while Beleg and Narn were tossed some elven clothes that Strider stole from Elladan or Elrohir. (He wasn’t sure whose clothes were whose, and they weren’t there right then to ask about it, as they were looking for food.)

‘So you’re Túrin and Beleg,’ Strider said for the twenty-seventh time. Mîm had been keeping track, but he’d missed a couple times so he thought this was the twenty-fifth time.

‘Yes,’ Túrin said. He was annoyed that Beleg had used his true name, as he would have gone by Neithan still, if he had been allowed to. But Strider would have know that name too and connected it to his real name, and Túrin, in his heart, knew that.

‘Huh,’ Strider said. He lit his pipe and sat smoking quietly. ‘Well, I didn’t expect this. Maybe it’s the end of the world already.’

‘That would suck,’ said Halbarad.

Strider nodded. ‘It really would.’ He looked with worry at his new companions. He really didn’t know what to do with them. He cleared his throat a few times like that would help him come up with words. It didn’t, so he just smoked again.

‘Fuck,’ he said finally. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Chapter Text

‘How far is Rivendell?’ – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

‘Well, we’re going to have to take them home,’ Elladan said when he and his brother had returned to the Ranger Camp with food and heard the tale.

‘Yeah,’ Aragorn said. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘These are my brothers. Our father can help you. Maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ Elladan said. ‘I mean. I don’t know what to say. You’re dead here. You died. So… that history didn’t change. If you are who you say you are. But I don’t believe you are lying.’

‘You can speak to our father,’ Elrohir said. ‘He is a master of lore. And also Thingol’s great-great-grandchild.’

‘Ah!’ Beleg said. ‘Can we see Thingol then?’

‘No,’ Elrohir said. ‘He’s dead.’

‘Melian.’

‘Gone.’

‘Mablung.’

‘Dead.’

‘Oropher.’

‘Um.’ Elrohir waved his hand. ‘Also dead.’

‘Oh,’ Beleg said.

‘Also, your entire land is gone. Like, it went under the sea kind of gone,’ Elrohir said. ‘I’m sorry. The First Age was… rough.’

‘Oropher died in the Second Age though,’ Elladan said. ‘And his son, Thranduil, is still alive. And Thranduil’s child is visiting Rivendell.’

‘Right,’ Elrohir said. ‘You’re our cousin,’ he added to Túrin, ‘a bit removed, but we just call everyone cousin because it’s easier.’

‘Because you’re related to everyone,’ Aragorn said.

‘Technically so are you,’ Elladan said.

‘So we do die,’ Beleg said. ‘Narn said that we do.’

‘Right,’ Elladan said. ‘Túrin kills you when you’re rescuing him, and then later kills himself after learning that he married and was going to have a child with his sister. She also kills herself.’

Beleg blinked rapidly, trying to process this information.

Túrin stared ahead of him and didn’t say anything. Truth was, he probably wasn’t going to speak for a couple of weeks. It was all a bit of shock.

Beleg sat down and stared at the fire. He was thinking about all the people and lands that were gone. Elves had died. Gone to Valinor. Or died and then gone to Valinor. It was quite upsetting.

And he hadn’t expected Melian to ever be gone.

Or Túrin to actually… straight up kill him and then All of That. He shivered. Everything looked quite bleak.

Narn stared at the fire. She was thinking about the whole ‘we left Morgoth, Sauron, Thuringwethil, and Gothmog in my world’ dilemma. It was really a bother because there hadn’t been much else they could do. But that also meant that… what if they followed them here? They could probably swim down to the bottom of the lake.

Well, maybe not Gothmog. But maybe he’d drown or just find a nice little cave to go burrow in. Might lose evil motivation if Morgoth and Sauron… came after them.

And if they didn't, well, then what sort of trouble might they cause in her world? She had no idea if they could be contained by future tech. She sighed. Beleg had told her the history that Aragorn had told him, and it seemed to match up with the Silmarillion, more or less, so that meant Morgoth was gone but also not gone, and also Túrin and Beleg weren’t missing and still had died.

Maybe her Túrin and Beleg came from some sort of alternate universe. And they were in the proper one now. Or maybe it was just some weird technical glitch in the universe. Not knowing what was happening was wildly frustrating.

This was giving her a headache, and they still needed to burn Andróg, which didn’t sound pleasant at all.

She picked at her food for a bit and then ate it because they had been running around for quite a bit without any food.

Maybe things would look better in the morning.

***

Things did not look better in the morning. In fact, they looked decidedly worse. It had rained, and bodies didn’t burn all that well without huge pyres, and they’d only had a small pyre, so what she had thought would be only ashes had in fact left behind some bones that were buried in a shallow grave since apparently this was good enough when there wasn’t rotting flesh or something. But anyway the shallow grave had washed up a bit and there were some burnt bones sticking out of the ground most unpleasantly.

She figured that her internal monologue was going to follow something like Bilbo’s: wretched, dratted rain and I just wish I could be warm, but without the pipe and eggs and bacon.

But it wasn’t like she hadn’t spent many years of her life running off to hide in the woods in any weather, even in the cold rain and sleet, and the clothes she was borrowing were very effective at keeping out the rain. (This is why they walked around with their cloaks like that. Whole blanket to protect you.)

Fortunately, they weren’t far from Rivendell, and the sky cleared up later that afternoon and then things did actually look better.

There was no sign of Morgoth or company, and the sun was now shining.

Aragorn was the only one of the rangers who decided to actually go to Rivendell, since he wanted to see Elrond’s face.

So off they went to Rivendell.

***

Elrond’s face was worth the trip.

He stood there with his hand over his mouth for a very long time, which blocked some of his face, but it was still worth it.

‘Well, that’s, something,’ Erestor said, dubiously. He wasn’t really buying it.

‘Thank you for bringing them here, my sons,’ Elrond said. He didn’t sound that thankful though. He looked worriedly at the company standing before him.

Hopefully Glorfindel – who had gone off to find Legolas – would be back soon. He wasn’t sure what to say or do now.

And he was very worried about the possibility of Morgoth and Sauron showing up suddenly because that would make two Sauron’s and one Sauron was quite enough, thank you.

‘But I never met Beleg,’ Legolas said as he was brought in by Glorfindel to identify him. ‘Just saw him in my father’s memories or songs.’ He stopped short when he saw them though. ‘Oh, that’s him.’

Beleg gave Legolas a little smile. He was trying not to say, ‘You look like Lúthien!’ to Elrond for the fifth time, so he kept his mouth shut. Túrin stood awkwardly beside him. He still hadn’t spoken since Elladan had dumped the full tale of his tragedy onto him. Mîm was trying to be mostly unnoticed next to Túrin. He didn’t like his fate either.

No one spoke.

‘Elrond, you look like Lúthien,’ Beleg said for the fifth time.

Elrond smiled politely.

Just then, Lúthien came in.

‘Lúthien!’ Beleg cried.

‘Uh, no this is my daughter,’ Elrond said.

‘Right,’ Beleg said. ‘She’s… dead.’

There was an awkward silence.

Finally Arwen took Aragorn’s hand and kissed him quickly. ‘I missed you.’

Aragorn held her hand.

‘This is my betrothed,’ he explained.

There was an even more awkward silence.

‘Let’s have tea, shall we?’ Elrond said.

Chapter Text

‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo. – J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Narn paced on the porch in Rivendell. It was two days later, and there had still been no sign of Morgoth and Co. She was feeling quite tired, as she had been sleeping badly, which wasn’t normal in Rivendell, but the weight of the world left behind was jumping all over her shoulders, which makes for bad sleep.

Túrin stood, staring out at the river. He hadn’t said anything yet. It was worrying Beleg quite a lot. Right now, he was standing near Túrin, trying to get him to say anything.

Narn hoped that Túrin wasn’t like his sister and was going to jump to his death in the river. She’d grown quite fond of him, she realised, for perhaps the tenth time. It was just because ‘being friends with Túrin Turambar’ didn’t sound possible for her, so she kept forgetting they were friends. Rather. They could be? Were?

Well, there was no point asking him, since he wasn’t speaking at the moment.

Narn nibbled miserably on a chocolate croissant, but then the chocolate part was too melty and delicious, so she nibbled only half miserably on a chocolate croissant. She wondered if a huge lead chamber could contain Melkor and Sauron and the rest of them. Just treat them like nuclear waste or something. If they could be contained by mere mortals.

And there weren’t many people who would be missing her, but they would never, ever know what happened, which was such a terrible thing to think about. She sat down on a bench on the porch and stared dismally across Imladris.

Elrond came out onto the porch and gave Túrin a cup of tea and a gentle command. Túrin drank it a bit too quickly for how hot it looked. He frowned at bottom of the cup.

‘Túrin, could we talk?’ Beleg asked. Túrin pressed his head to Beleg’s shoulder and didn’t talk.

Narn watched the green leaves of the birch trees by the porch fluttering in the wind. Sparrows hopped around the porch and over her feet, getting croissant crumbs. It wasn’t exactly a croissant, but it was close enough that she was calling it one.

Beleg wrapped his arms around Túrin and stroked his hair and back.

‘I don’t want to think that’s real,’ Túrin said. ‘And I… I’m so tired, Beleg. I wish my life were all a bad dream that I could soon wake from.’

‘It won’t happen now,’ Beleg said.

‘But this is what has happened,’ Túrin said. ‘This is.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s better,’ Túrin said. ‘My sister won’t die. You won’t die.’ He frowned. ‘My sister is already dead.’

It was all very depressing. And it wasn’t looking like it was going to get less depressing anytime soon. Much like the state of the world they had left behind. And, well, the state of the world they were in.

And genuinely the state of the world now.

Anyway.

Elrond put his hand on Narn’s shoulder. Narn looked up from looking at the sparrows.

‘What?’ Not, perhaps, the most polite thing to say to Lord Elrond or whatever, but, hey, she was Finnish and therefore didn’t really care for class distinctions or being formal to any degree. It wasn’t even like he could understand her. She unfortunately still did not have the language knowledge that the others Morgoth had ‘cursed’ with language knowledge had. She was just glad that Beleg and Túrin had stuck with speaking English so that Elrond and the others couldn’t understand them.

Beleg translated for her, not making it any more polite given that he also didn’t care for formalities.

‘He wants to know if there is anything you haven’t told them,’ Beleg said, translating for Elrond.

Narn frowned. That was such a vague question. There were a billion things she had not told them, but she didn’t know if which of those billion things were important. She hadn’t, though, mentioned the them being toys, or the curse kissing, or other embarrassing things. So honestly she had not told them less than she had told them. Now she was avoiding looking at Elrond’s eyes due to the whole now thinking about all the information she had left out and worrying that he was going to read it in her eyes. Also she was going to cry because he was touching her and she was still stupidly touch starved. It would probably take years of therapy to get over that, but she didn’t have the time or money for that sort of thing, so she had been avoiding thinking about it most of her life.

‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘I think you told the that Sauron put me under a spell for a bit?’ she asked Beleg.

‘I did.’ Beleg spoke to Elrond.

‘Mmmmmmm.’ Narn didn’t want to say anything else. She hugged her knees and put her chin on top of them and didn’t talk.

The amount of people not talking because of the shock or just not wanting to give out information was making it very hard to write a chapter, hence the year long wait for an update.

But just then, Bilbo came up onto the porch, too interested in the strangers from another world (one) or another time (three), who had been to the other world, to stay away any longer, even though Elrond was trying to limit the amount of people they were seeing due to a.) possibly messing up timelines and the world and b.) the shock of everything was unhealthy for them, and seeing more people was just more stress.

Bilbo peered at them. Legolas was not far behind him. Narn wondered what year this was. Sometime between 3001 and 3018, evidently.

‘What year is it?’ she asked. Beleg translated again.

‘3003 of the third age,’ Bilbo said helpfully.

‘Cool.’

Narn let her mind wander as Beleg and Bilbo fell into conversation. Beleg really was quite friendly and just overall nice. Narn wanted to lie down in the grass somewhere and stare at the leaves and sky. She’d probably wind up crying. She hadn’t cried yet due to having a hard time crying in front of other people and hardly ever being alone.

Maybe she’d get a room alone sometime soon after her health was okay enough to leave Hospital Supervision. She was just getting very agitated and she wanted to do Horrible Things to Cope.

Beleg sat down on the bench next to her and put his arm around her. They really were friends then. But she still sat stiffly next to him, unable to return the affectionate gesture in any form.

Seriously. She needed so much therapy.

Beleg rubbed her arm a little, so she finally managed to rest her head against him.

Now they were talking in Sindarin and it was horrible because she couldn’t tell what they were saying, and she had no idea what they were going to do, and she really just wanted to go isolate herself, which was the only way to feel safe.

‘Do you want to go lie down?’ Beleg asked, which made Narn realise she probably looked as sick as she felt. She nodded.

Beleg talked to Elrond and then they all went back to what Narn was calling the Hospital. She pulled the curtains around her bed and lay face down on it. She felt absolutely wretched with guilt and stress and all other manner of horrible feelings.

No manner of we’d all be dead thoughts could get her to feel less guilty. Not even thinking that Morgoth and Sauron had both been able to go back and forth freely to their world, so they could very well return there, made her feel better.

Because there was no way of knowing.

At least that’s what she thought.

Unfortunately, she would get an answer. But it would have been better for all of them if she hadn’t.

Much, much better.