20. The Elladan Show: 9
When I got home from class today Rúmil wasn't home, but there was a message for him on the phone from the Grey Havens Airport Authority. His suitcase, it seems, is in Valmar. Nobody knows how it got there. Nobody knows exactly how or when it will be coming back. Apparently the airport in Valmar is investigating its appearance under suspicious circumstances. When I relayed this information to Rúmil, he was mortified at the prospect of having his intimate articles examined by Vanyarin customs agents. He seems to be the kind of person who would have a wide assortment of embarrassing paraphernalia in his luggage. Paraphernalia which, if cultural television programmes are any indication, Vanyarin customs agents would not appreciate. He admitted to having packed with the idea of winning his boyfriend back in mind.
I rang Glorfindel on Finarfin's mobile to see if he could help get this sorted out, and was surprised to learn he's back in Tirion. "I thought you moved to Valmar," I said. "I did," he replied curtly, in voice that clearly said "I don't want to talk about this." Naturally, I had to press the subject and asked, "Why'd you move back to Tirion?"
"It was more convenient," he said in the same tone of voice. "Convenient how?" I asked. He sighed and said, "We found Valmar isn't the right place to live at the moment." "Howso?" He made a frustrated sound and must've realised about then that I wasn't going to give up, because he launched into a rather lengthy explanation of how, in Valmar, there had been some small to-do about Aralindë refusing to wear a veil that covers her hair, which, Glorfindel pointed out, not all metropolitan Vanyarin women do nowadays anyhow. He refused to force her to do so, and Ingwë told him that having an unruly and disruptive wife would damage him politically. He told Ingwë to do something unpleasant while going someplace that isn't typically mentioned in civil conversation. Then he and Aralindë quickly fled back to Tirion. "We are political exiles," he said, "so it shouldn't be too difficult for you to see why I can't exactly go rushing back there to claim a suitcase full of dildos."
I asked him if he knew anybody who would be willing to claim such a dubious suitcase in Valmar. He asked exactly what was in the suitcase. I put it on speakerphone and Rúmil told him, "Mostly wigs, platform shoes, a few sequinned frocks, a large case of cosmetics, some really expensive underwear- make sure that's all still in there, I don't want it stolen!- my hair products, then the usual things like a vibrator and a couple leather harnesses and stuff." Glorfindel muttered, "Right, the usual..." then said, "But with all the frocks and shoes, it could theoretically be a woman's suitcase?" Rúmil said, "Erm... a very... high-end woman. Maybe a dominatrix?" "Ah," said Glorfindel; "too bad your grandmother isn't here, Elladan, she'd be perfect for this job."
In the end, Glorfindel said he'd see what he could do, but Rúmil didn't look very hopeful. He sat down at the kitchen table and sighed a silent goodbye to all his lacy underthings and enormous wigs. I was glad to be able to leave him to be depressed by himself; I had schoolwork to do.
I have to present a monologue in Quenya. I think I am going to die. I have to write, memorise, and perform a five-minute piece in front of the class on April 5th. How is this fair? I don't think this is fair. We should at least be able to work in pairs. I could do a five-minute performance with Elrohir. But by myself? That's just madness.
I think everyone else in the class feels the same way. They all cringed and looked worried when the professor announced the assignment. The subject is: "What I plan to do in the future". I think that means, "What lousy job do I think I'll be stuck doing for the rest of my life". So not only do I have to write a crappy Quenya performance for myself, I have to write about being the worst Elven leader in the history of the world since Fëanor. Great! Hopefully I can anticipate that my rule will be just dreadfully boring until I move to Valinor, as opposed to full of murder and chaos and culminating in an abrupt death-by-balrog. Though really, it would make for a more exciting performance if I were killed by a balrog. I could wear a costume. Or maybe Elrohir could wear a costume and be the balrog. He'd like that. The professor did say other people could be part of the performance, so long as they didn't speak. I wonder if roaring counts as speaking.
No further word on Rúmil's suitcase.
Next week is the last full week of school. In that time, I need to:
*Finish my essay about Oropher
*Work on another essay for my directed study
*Prepare for my Quenya presentation
*Make a replica of some historic weapon
*Run twenty laps around the gym, do forty pushups and forty situps, pass a flexibility test, and write an exam on badminton rules.
I am not worried about any of the P.E., since I know all the badminton rules and the only way to study for the other stuff is by doing it, and that's what we do in class time. I have started my historic weapon replica already (I am making Ringil, Fingolfin's sword, out of cardboard and fun foam). I'm more or less done taking notes for the Oropher essay, so all I have left to do on that is put it all together coherently. And my Quenya presentation... well... I'll just work on that a bit every day. Or maybe ask Elrohir if he'll do it for me if I make him a whole bowl of cookie dough to eat.
The one I'm unsure about is the essay for my directed study. It can be about anything remotely related to modern leadership. Actually, it doesn't even have to be an essay. It has to be a "project". But since I have never been good at projects, being more a literary type than a creative type, I might just stick with the essay. I also think I should go see the professor this week. We've only had four meetings together all term. I hope that doesn't mean I'm failing.
Aerthos, Elrohir and I had a catching-up-on-schoolwork day today. Rúmil sat in the basement and sullenly watched videos on the tiny television while we did. Elrohir was very enthusiastic about agreeing to be my balrog, and will be asking the theatre department on Monday if he can borrow a balrog costume. He asked me if I wanted to be myself for his presentation, and since I figured it was only fair, I said yes. Also, it would look a bit foolish if he had somebody else playing me.
Nobody had any ideas as to what I should do for my directed study project. Actually Elrohir thought I should make a diorama, but I dismissed that immediately. A Popsicle-stick model of Gondolin might be adequate for elementary school, but not final-year university.
After supper I rang dad. He said that Erestor's still had trouble sitting down and that ointment had to be applied to the blisters on his bum on a daily basis. There was nothing else to report. It must've been a slow news day in Rivendell. After I hung up, I remembered I still haven't sent either of them a birthday present.
Spent all of Quenya class working on my monologue. Elrohir helped. We were able to work very well together, since our projects are so similar. Mine is about taking over leadership of Rivendell and being eventually killed by a balrog, and his is about helping me take over leadership of Rivendell and facilitating my inevitable death by balrog. It's all very harmonious. He thinks I should aim for being High King of the Noldor, though, and his project has a definite "help Elladan become High King" theme to it. I'm not entirely sure if I approve of that. High King sounds like a lot of work. Though if I were King, I would be able to do whatever I wanted. In theory.
I still have not come up with any essay or project to do for my directed study. I wanted to get going on that today, but Rúmil insisted he was going to make us supper and he needed me to go to the supermarket with him to buy food. He still has no money.
Rúmil is making us authentic Nandorin food. He claims to be half Nandorin or something, which I don't think is true, since Haldir is constantly making racial slurs about the Nandor (and not in an affectionate way). But Rúmil is a pretty good ethnic cook, Nandorin or not. I think he's making something with noodles and prawns and about fifty spices. There are bits of ginger all over the counter.
Had leftover coconut noodle something for breakfast. I'm going to suggest to Rúmil that he cook more often. Really it's the least he can do, since he's living here for free and continuously borrowing my clothes.
Worked all class on my Quenya monologue with Elrohir, but still haven't even managed to finish half of it. I perform on Friday. I'm not finished my fun foam sword either, or my Oropher essay, and I haven't even thought of a topic for my directed study yet. School is over in five days. You think I would've learned by now.
I finished writing my Quenya presentation half an hour before class. Actually Elrohir finished writing it. I was dictating to him, and he translated into Quenya as he typed. That worked out much better than me actually having to think in Quenya.
I offered to present first, since otherwise I'd have sat through the entire hour dreading my turn. At least this way I got it over with and out of the way as soon as possible. I read my boring speech, and Elrohir the Balrog did zany things in the background, causing the class to laugh and (hopefully) not notice how boring I was. At the end, he leapt off a chair and tackled me to the lino tiles, getting my fancy Noldo costume all dusty and bending my tinfoil circlet. Then the class had a few minutes to ask me questions, during which time Elrohir changed from his Balrog costume into his own Noldo outfit for his presentation. Unfortunately most of the questions the class had wanted to ask me were aimed at the Balrog, so it was a very awkward three minutes while we waited in silence for Elrohir to return.
Elrohir's project made my life sound way more exciting that it will ever likely be. With his talents, he should really look into becoming a car salesman or real estate agent. I just stood there throughout, following his cues to look busy, pose heroically, struggle with empty balrog costume, die, and so on. Everyone cheered when he was done. When we were excused to change out of our Noldorin costumes and into regular clothes, I took as long as possible. I wasn't too keen on going back and listening to forty-five more minutes of Quenya, and rightly so. When I returned and took my seat, a girl who was so nervous she looked ready to cry was reading about the virtues of reusable cloth nappies in her housewife monologue.
After Quenya, I went directly home to work on the rest of my assignments. I still don't have a topic for my directed studies project.
Oropher essay finished. One less worry. I rang Thranduil to check on a few points, but I forgot the time difference and accidentally woke him up when it was three in the morning in Mirkwood. I hung up straight away when I realised what I was doing. I hope he doesn't have number display. Because I didn't talk to Thranduil I was forced to make up a few things, but I'm sure the prof won't notice.
In a surge of panic this afternoon, I decided the only thing I could do for my directed studies project (which is due tomorrow) is gather up all my old term papers, jumble relevant bits of them together, find some random images, and bung it all together into a website. After eight hours of doing this, I am starting to think that recycling schoolwork is far more difficult than just producing something new. And it doesn't help that I suck at HTML.
Last day of classes. Ever. Except for exams, but those don't count, since I'm not there to learn anything. I finished my website project at eleven this morning (after going to bed at two and getting up at seven), burned it onto a CD, and headed for class. I handed it to the prof and said, "Here's my final assignment." She said, "Oh, thanks." And that was that. I had an hour to spare before Quenya, so I went and slid my Oropher essay under the Poli Sci prof's door. Then I still had forty-five minutes, so I went to the props lab and worked on my foam Ringil. I have until the 16th to finish it, which is fortunate, since right now it looks nothing like Ringil and an awful lot like a crappy fake sword made of fun foam. The lab instructor suggested I try putting shoe polish on it. I might do that.
There was nothing to do in Quenya except sit through the remaining class presentations. I listened to a girl who wanted to be a child speech pathologist, a girl who wanted to be an interior designer, a boy who wanted to do something with computers (he wasn't sure exactly what), a girl who was going to set up government programs for impoverished children in Valmar, and two boys who had planned on joining the army but, now that the war's over, decided to start a dog food company together instead. I tried my best not to fall asleep during any of it, but I was so tired I'm sure I nodded off more than once. Elrohir had to poke me a few times.
There were ten minutes left at the end of class, so, after the prof announced that we all had to come back on either Wednesday or Friday for our oral tests, we sang songs. Elrohir sang loudly and looked upset. I think he's going to miss this class. I sang quietly and watched the clock. I am not going to miss this class.
As we walked back home, all the corridors in every building were full of people crying and hugging and partying. We stopped by the residence to see what was going on, but apart from the engineering students and the agriculture students teaming up to precisely measure and cut bales of hay to perfectly fill commerce lounge from floor to ceiling, nothing very interesting was happening. We did see the education students setting up a cabaret in the Uni Centre Multipurpose Room, though, so we bought tickets. It's an "Old Skool" theme cabaret, which means dressing up like mid-Third Age rappers. I think I might just wear my jeans and let Elrohir do the rapper thing.
Aerthos wasn't home when we arrived, but Rúmil was. He jumped on us the minute we walked through the door and started squealing about how he now has a job. This morning he was hired as an aesthetician at Super Modern Beauty World, a hair and makeup salon in the downtown ethnic Nandorin community. He doesn't have a certificate in aesthetics, but he's been selling cosmetics at the mall long enough to know how to effectively apply them. Plus he speaks Nandorin, which was the main qualifying factor. He starts on Thursday. So to celebrate, he's coming to the cabaret with us tonight. He's going to give me a cabaret makeover. I'm worried this will end in me looking very foolish.
I ended up not going to the cabaret. Aerthos and I are fighting.
It started just after six last night, when Aerthos woke me up from my nap to angrily accuse me of cheating on him. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He dragged me out of bed and over to the computer, where the picture of Legolas' bum was on prominent display. "That's Elrohir's picture," I said. "Then why is it on your computer?!" he asked. "Why are you snooping around on my computer?" I asked back. He said he wasn't snooping. All the school computer labs were full of last-minute essay-writers, and he needed to write his last-minute essay on my computer. His essay happened to be about Legolas' role in the War of the Ring. He started it this morning while I was at school, then came back to work on it again after his first class, but had forgotten where he saved it. When he did a hard drive search for "Legolas", that picture came up.
I tried to explain how Legolas wanted a picture of Elrohir's autograph on his bum, and how I had just received a new digital camera that everyone wanted to try out, but he didn't believe me. I offered to delete the picture, since I'd already emailed it to Legolas and Elrohir, but even that didn't help. Aerthos stormed off and spent the next hour locked in the bathroom, allegedly getting ready for the cabaret. I didn't know what else to do, so I went back to sleep.
At nine, Rúmil knocked on the door and said he was ready to give me my makeover. I was too groggy to dissuade him. He started by doing my hair in a fancy way, then choosing my clothes. He honestly expected me to wear Elrohir's vinyl trousers and see-through black shirt. I think he must've noticed that Aerthos and I weren't getting along, because he said, "Now this will definitely catch his attention!" Then he handed me a little spray bottle of cologne, "Guaranteed to make anyone feel way sexy," and told me to spray some up in the air and then walk into the mist. I did. I stepped into the mist of cologne, and got some in my eyes and inhaled a good portion of the rest of it. Between the streaming tears and the uncontrollable coughing as I gasped for breath, I don't think it helped make me very sexy. Rúmil shouted "You should've kept your eyes closed!" just as I blindly stumbled into the bed frame and cracked my shin.
It was about then that I said I wasn't going to the cabaret. I changed out of Elrohir's clothes, gave Rúmil my ticket so he wouldn't have to pay high door prices, and got back into bed. Elrohir came in to try to change my mind (wearing baggy neon shorts and a Hypercolour shirt), but I gruffly told him he'd have to enjoy Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer by himself. He asked if he could at least borrow my camera so he could take pictures for me, and I said yes. Luckily, I immediately I remembered that he is Elrohir and can't be trusted with a $400 camera, so I gave him twenty bucks to buy a Kodak Funsaver instead.
Then I went to sleep and stayed asleep until four in the morning, when I had to go to the bathroom. I got up to go and found Aerthos and Rúmil sitting on the sofa together in the dark with the television on mute, talking very quietly. I was sure they were talking about me, because what else would they have in common to talk about? I accused them of doing so, but Aerthos haughtily said, "We have much better things to talk about than you, Elladan." That made me a bit worried. What could they possibly have to talk about at four in the morning?
I told them I couldn't sleep and wanted to watch television, which I hoped would give them a good opportunity to quit their weird talking and go to bed, but it didn't. They just went to go talk in the basement. It was six before they finally came back upstairs and went to sleep.
I was supposed to go in to the props lab and work on my foam Ringil today, but instead I spent the day in a groggy haze on the sofa, alternately dozing and watching bad home décor programmes. Elrohir did go to the lab for a while to work on a papier maché Crown of Morgoth. He brought home his fake Silmarilli (made of raisins, glow-in-the-dark paint, iridescent cellophane, and shellac) to try to cheer me up. I told him they were very nice, if a bit lumpy. He's going to try to smooth them out tomorrow with more shellac.
Aerthos is spending altogether too much time with Rúmil lately. Mostly they sit together on the sofa talking quietly, and falling suddenly silent whenever I walk into the room. At first when Elrohir suggested they were plotting against me, I told him that was the dumbest thing I'd heard all week. Now I'm not so sure.
I've been sharing the hide-a-bed downstairs with Elrohir because Aerthos has made it very clear he doesn't want me in our room. I think his reaction to the Legolas picture has been a bit extreme.
Quenya oral exam today. All I had to do was talk to the professor in Quenya. She asked me a few questions like "What are your favourite classes?" and "What are your hobbies?" I didn't have a favourite class, so I lied and said I was doing really well in Math (mainly because Math was one of the only Quenya subject names I could remember), and told her about my exciting hobby of playing computer games. Then I had to sing a song. The only songs I knew all the Quenya words to were Fiommereth songs, so I sang "Á Cena, Melwa Lohtë". In hindsight, that was probably a bad choice, due to the song's rather operatic nature. I started on the wrong note and ended up having to start over in a higher key when the song went too low. But after that I was free to go.
I met Elrohir in the props lab, where he was carefully shellacking his Silmarilli to try to make them less lumpy. I took out my Ringil and started dabbing on shoe polish. We worked happily side by side, listening to an oldies radio station that seemed to be playing a non-stop line-up of dad's favourite songs. At four-thirty when the props lab closed we went to the pizza place across the Parkway for supper. I didn't really want to go home, because of Aerthos and Rúmil. Elrohir didn't want to go home either, but for completely different reasons. His basement bedroom has ants in it and he claims they smell funny.
When we did get home, Aerthos had put on his "My Fair Lady" CD and he and Rúmil were waltzing around the living room singing "I Could Have Danced All Night." Though, as usual, they were singing a different verb instead of "danced". Rúmil had put on fake eyelashes an impressive amount of makeup, and Aerthos was holding a margarita and wearing clothes that were far too tight. They are walking, talking (and dancing) stereotypes.
I went downstairs without a word, to help Elrohir play Nintendo.
Rang dad this morning and asked if he'd booked plane tickets home for Elrohir and me yet. He said no, since he was wondering if I wanted to stay in the Grey Havens with my boyfriend. I said "Certainly not." I was relieved to note he had the decency not to ask why not. Then he gave me his MasterCard number and told me to book the tickets myself. I wonder if he'd be upset if I booked Elrohir and me into first class.
I worked on Ringil today while Elrohir worked on his Silmarilli, but I don't seem to be making much progress. The shoe polish looks nice, but it takes forever to apply.
Neither Aerthos nor Rúmil was home when I got in at five, so Elrohir and I had our own quiet supper of hot dogs and Alphagetti. Then I booked our tickets home, on the 20th. I was more than a little disappointed that the airline doesn't offer first class or business class on short-haul flights.
Aerthos and Rúmil are in love. They told me officially today. I said I was very happy for them, which was almost true. I would've been happy for them if they weren't so annoying. Then Aerthos broke down sobbing and said a bunch of stuff like he never meant to hurt me and he was sorry it had to end this way and it wasn't my fault and he hoped we could still be friends. I told him not to worry. Really, I was relieved. I've been wondering how to break up with him for a long time now, and this is the perfect solution. Aerthos also said he was sorry for making such a big deal of the photo of Legolas' bum on my hard drive. He only did it because he was feeling guilty over cheating on me with Rúmil (they've been in love ever since they first saw each other at the airport, I guess) and was trying to shift some of the blame.
But things are surprisingly more harmonious now at home. I have moved back into my room and Rúmil has moved in with Aerthos. And everyone fights less, since we don't have to pretend we're still in love with/not in love with everyone else. The only person not affected is Elrohir. He still just sits downstairs and plays Nintendo.
Ringil is finished. I went in to work on it every day this week, and just finished a few hours before the props lab closed for the year. It looks almost like a real sword if I stand across the room and squint my eyes. I handed it over to the lab tech for grading, and can pick it up on Monday.
Yesterday was my last Poli Sci exam (ever!), and I think that went well enough. By some incredible stroke of luck, the long essay question worth half the exam marks was about Oropher. I was able to finish in under two hours.
But. I am now completely finished everything to do with university forever. I have no more classes, no more exams, no more assignments, no more anything. I am going to celebrate by drinking a whole bottle of bad wine by myself while watching television.
I spent all of last night drinking a bottle of bad wine and watching television. Aerthos and Rúmil were out doing something stereotypically gay by themselves, so Elrohir made me fish sticks for supper. Then he helped me watch television while drinking a whole bottle of Coke by himself. Sometime later, when I was good and drunk and Elrohir was good and hyper, we decided to ring Glorfindel. Luckily, he had his (Finarfin's) mobile switched on.
He said, "Finwë Lauron," and I yelled, "GUESS WHAT GLORFINDEL I'M DONE UNIVERSITY FOREVER!!!" while Elrohir shouted "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" in the background until he started coughing.
There was a short pause before Glorfindel said, "Elladan?" I said, "Elladan is DONE UNIVERSITY FOREVER!" Glorfindel said, "Yes, you told me that already." Elrohir, who had finally stopped coughing, yelled "WOOOOOO!" again. After another pause, Glorfindel asked, "Are you drunk?" Both Elrohir and I yelled "WOOOOOOO!!!" in reply. I think we were under the impression that this was the funniest thing ever. Glorfindel made a growly sound and said, "I have to go now," and disconnected. I think he was just envious because it was the middle of the afternoon in Valinor and he couldn't be drunk too.
I spent all of today being lazy and sort of sick.
After realising that our plane leaves in two days, Elrohir and I decided we should probably pack. Packing to go home is never as organised or neat as packing to go to school. I tend to just stuff everything in boxes carelessly.
First we boxed up everything that wouldn't fit in our suitcases. Elrohir said a tearful temporary goodbye to the Nintendo. I'm not sure where it all comes from, but somehow we have far more stuff to take home than what we brought in the first place. Then when all those boxes were placed in the front entry ready to go to the bus depot tomorrow, we started packing up our clothes and things to go on the plane with us. Naturally I had far too much stuff, and had to end up putting some of it in more boxes. In all, we had eleven boxes to send on the bus. I'm glad I still have dad's MasterCard number.
It took two taxi rides to get all the boxes to the bus depot, but even the cost of the taxis paled in comparison to the cost of shipping all those boxes to Rivendell on the bus. I'm not going to mention it to dad, and hopefully he won't ask or notice.
Naturally, as tonight is my last night in the Grey Havens (hopefully forever), Aerthos and Rúmil are having a dinner party. But since they don't want to cook, the dinner party is going to be at the Ramada's dining room. I've invited Angiliath and her girlfriend to come along, and Elrohir has invited Nova. It promises to be a memorable evening.
I am at the Grey Havens airport. Our plane has been delayed, as usual, though this time it's because one of the security guards found traces of explosives on Elrohir's backpack. He's been hauled off for questioning. Meanwhile, his bags have been taken off the plane, we've been grounded until the situation clears up, and everyone is angrily waiting around. I'm too hung over to care.
I spent all of last night's supper just waiting for something awful to happen, but it never did. I wasted a good worry for nothing. Nova was waiting at the restaurant when we arrived and Angiliath and Merenel showed up a few minutes later. Outside of the fact that she was holding Angiliath's hand, I never would have suspected Merenel was gay. She was wearing makeup a flowery dress. Actually, she reminded me a lot of Arwen. She sat next to Nova at the table and the two spent most of the evening taking about designer shoes. Angiliath sat across from Elrohir and the two of them spent most of the evening discussing the evolution of video game systems. I was forced to talk to Aerthos and Rúmil, and all they wanted to talk about was actors they thought were hot, and which famous people are allegedly gay. Rúmil swore up and down that he had it on good authority that Sauron was gay. I refrained from pointing out that, since Sauron doesn't have a body, whether or not he's gay is irrelevant.
After hearing the full list of Who's Gay in the World According to Rúmil (Aragorn made the list, which made me accidentally snort water up my nose), the food arrived. I had ordered a hamburger, since it was the only thing on the menu that didn't list mushrooms as an ingredient. It had mushrooms on it anyhow. I scraped them off and gave them to Elrohir. He likes mushrooms, but only fried ones that came out of a tin. These ones were fried and definitely looked tinned, so he was happy. There were no chicken fingers for Elrohir to order, so he had a mushroom-stuffed chicken breast. Unfortunately the mushrooms in his chicken weren't tinned, so he gave them to Nova. Having grown up on the borders of the Shire, Nova appreciates all kinds of mushrooms. Elrohir stuffed my tinned fried mushrooms into the mushroom hole in his chicken.
When the food was done, we ordered several pitchers of beer and two bottles of wine, and kept drinking until the manager kicked us out at midnight. Then we went to the Freehouse next door for more drinking, where Aerthos and Rúmil made a proud display of their sexuality by mauling each other in one of the booths. The dignified-looking couple in the next booth got up and left. I just kept drinking. By the time last call was sounded at two, we were all thoroughly inebriated. Angiliath and Merenel couldn't stop laughing, Nova was sobbing to Elrohir about how she was worried he wouldn't remember her, and Rúmil and Aerthos were telling me how much they loved me. I was momentarily caught up in the sappiness and told them I loved them too. But then I remembered how annoying they are and began to list all the things they do to piss me off.
Mainly I'm concerned with the complete lack of common sense from both of them. Aerthos is always leaving lights on all over the house while at the same time complaining about the energy bill. The compost bin is always overflowing with banana peels, since he has this unfounded notion that bananas increase one's sex drive. Plus, he seems to think that restaurant dishes are free for the taking. Half the glasses in our cupboard say "Moxie's". And Rúmil is just plain wasteful. While normal people sort laundry into broad categories, he sorts it into miniscule piles by exact colour. The other day I caught him putting a turquoise load through the machine.
They both broke down to admit that it was all true and they were terrible people. Which is what I wanted, I suppose, though it didn't make me feel any less annoyed. Maybe because they didn't offer to change their behaviour. Then Rúmil downed the last of his Rev in one gulp and promptly ran to the toilets to be sick. We went home after that. Once somebody is sick in the public toilets, the party's over. It just ruins the mood.
According to my bedside travel alarm clock, I went to bed at quarter to four and got up to ring a taxi for the airport at seven thirty. I have now been sitting in the same uncomfortable plastic boarding lounge seat for nearly three hours, and I dare not fall asleep because the airport is a very shady place indeed and some criminal would likely steal my computer, passport, and valuable carry-on luggage. And that would just delay the plane even more (not to mention upset me).
I am never leaving home again. Everything I want is right here. And dad pays for it, so that makes it all the better.
Dad picked us up at the airport last night. He was dreadfully worried over what had delayed the plane for so long, and Elrohir had to explain the whole story about how the shellac he used on his Silmarilli containing similar ingredients to plastic explosive. He had dripped some shellac on his backpack in the props lab, and it set off the detector at the airport. He had to be strip searched and eventually I was called in to verify that yes, he had been using shellac to cover glow-in-the-dark painted raisins in an attempt to make fake Silmarilli, and no, the Silmarilli were for a school project and he wasn't attempting to sell them on the black market. Luckily I took a photo the other week of Elrohir laboriously painting raisins in the props lab, and had the picture on my camera to show the security guards. His backpack was in the photo, right next to a can of shellac.
Dad said he was going to write a stern letter of complaint to the Grey Havens Airport Authority for daring to abuse his son, but both Elrohir and I assured him that it was an honest mistake. Elrohir does look, act and dress rather like a thug, after all, and he even admitted that trying to sneak explosives onto an airplane seems like something he might try. He tried to sneak on a plastic cutlery set, but they confiscated it. I'm not sure why, though, because they gave us plastic cutlery on the plane to use with our dinners.
Erestor had a nice home-cooked supper waiting when we arrived at home. Supper that covered all four food groups and looked like it had actual nutritional value. Supper that didn't come out of a freezer box. I've missed eating actual supper, at an actual table on actual dishes. We had a real supper conversation, too. Dad asked us how the semester went, and both Elrohir and I said, "Good." A conversation in our household is defined as an exchange of two or more words between two or more people. Average conversation length is between five and ten words (as in, "Did you clean the bathroom yet?" "No").
After supper, Elrohir got the iguana out and hand-fed it little pieces of mushy cat food. It was shedding, which Elrohir took as a good sign that dad and Erestor have been feeding it well in his absence. He showed it his Silmarilli. It tried to eat one. Then it climbed up onto his head and stayed there while he watched television. It sort of made me wish I had an iguana to sit on my head as I watched television, but then the iguana crawled away and pooped down the back of the sofa. At that point, I was glad I didn't have an iguana to clean up after.
Some of my final marks are starting to come in on the GHU transcript website. So far, I have 88 in P.E. and 84 in Poli Sci 442. Dad is taking this as a good sign that he can now retire safely. Today I found him and Erestor sitting at the kitchen table looking over brochures for condo resorts in Eldos and Tavrobel. Elrohir got all excited over one particular brochure, until I explained to him that the photo inside was of plain old tourists on a nude beach, not wild Elves sunning themselves by the sea.
The rest of my marks are in. I got 81 in prop-making, 81 in Quenya, and an unhoped-for 86 in my directed study. I guess the prof really liked that crappy compilation website project I did.
Elrohir got 87 in prop-making and 96 in Quenya. That's now two things at which he's better than I. And for the year overall, his average is 1,4% higher. Something is terribly wrong with the universe.
Dad had a Talk with me after work today. Now that all my marks are in and my graduation is an absolute certainty, I have to start going to the office with him. He and Erestor have decided that they will retire in one year's time. That means I have one year to learn how to do his job. I told him that one year wasn't exactly enough time to learn how to be a competent world leader, but he kept saying he had faith in me. I took that to mean that he'd already started planning his bright, work-free Valinor future and didn't want to stick around here any longer.
So Monday will be the first day of my Official Responsible Adult Life. At nearly 3000 years old, it's probably high time to do so. But I still don't really want to. Official Responsible Adult Life seems like it would be the sort of thing that takes up a lot of time and energy and sucks the fun out of every aspect of everything. And, worst of all, I might end up turning into dad. That's a fate worse than death-by-balrog.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.