A New Problem

Disclaimer: I only own the plot and a dubious hold on the character Natasha.

Summery: We’ve seen them defeat just about everything. Sauron, Mary Sue, unspeakable dangers and evil, crazed fangirls. But what happens when something completely unexpected is thrown into the mix?

Warning: This chapter is PG — 15 for sexual implications later on.
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Chapter Four — Infuriating Istari

I stood behind Galadriel as she presented the fellowship with their gifts.
My face was the mask I generally employed when I didn’t want people to know what I was thinking. It was a good idea, as said mask stopped me from laughing out loud when Gimli asked for a single strand of Lady Galadriel’s hair.

It was certainly a mark of regard when she gave him three. She had refused Feanor, her own uncle, and most likely countless others throughout the ages. I wonder if Gimli knew that. Oh, well.

I had chosen not to follow.

It would have been interesting, to say the least, but what would I have changed? And for better or for worse? Also, I had Bella, Collum and Gretal to watch out for and the remaining fellowship had enough to worry about as it was, without the added burden of a teen and three children.

The fellowship was able to succeed without me the first time, so what would my interference do to the happenings? That was rhetorical, by the way. I don’t think I want to know. Plus, I had somehow gained several admirers, and I needed to get rid of them first.

I watch the three boats set off down the river, wondering at what would happen next. Unbidden, a poem I once wrote came to mind:

Watching, wondering, never knowing,
Time passes by like a river flowing.
We all make a choice, for ourselves or others,
Stranger or friend, rivals or partners.

One choice to stay, to watch as they leave.
One choice to depart, to rejoice or to grieve?
One choice for indifference, someone else’s woe,
One choice for attention, to assist as they go.

But choices can change, for better or worse,
What once was a blessing now is a curse.
In choosing for others, we then stood apart,
In choosing for ourself, our own journey starts.

Choice is a sculptor, of self and of life,
Shaping joy and love, sorrow and strife.
It is choices that define us, with every breath,
Choices that make us from birth until death.

I should have known that that would not be the end of it, and in more ways than one.

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I spent the remainder of that day and a large portion of the next explaining to my charges exactly why we had not gone with them. Several times over.

Which was what I was currently doing.

“No, Collum, we couldn’t go with them.”

“But why not? We wanted to go. It sounded fun.”

“Because we couldn’t. It’s like when we were doing Art and Craft last week. We were going to do a fish but we ran out of paper plates so we had to do painting, instead. We could not go with them because we didn’t have the materials,”

“But why?”

I closed my eyes and sent a plea for patience to whoever might be listening, then gave up and banged my head against a nearby Mallorn trunk.

One of the elflings, who had taken to following us around and had made friends with my wards, now spoke up, “Why are you hitting your head against the tree, Natasha?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. “Because I am feeling very frustrated and hitting my head helps take my mind off it.”

A male elfling who had taken a shine to Gretal came up with an idea, “Why don’t you take them out on Isindil? That is what Naneth and Ada do when they get upset.”

I froze and nearly tripped over my own feet. Isindil was one of my admirers and I really hoped that my brain only took that way too far out of context. I looked back at the elfling — Aniond, I think — and carefully replied, “What do you mean that is how your parents take out their frustrations?”

Please let this just be my imagination…

Aniond was only too eager to explain, “They go into our talen and throw their clothes everywhere and…” I hurriedly covered his mouth.
Damn, I hate being right!

There were several snickers from nearby and I looked over to see Aniond’s parents turning a very interesting shade of red, not to mention, oh this could not get worse, Isinil standing nearby, looking as though he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. I really could not blame him, as several of the Lothlorien elves seemed to have heard this and were laughing.

I had not felt this embarrassed since I was in primary school and a boy in the playground lifted up my skirt for the world to see. Except this time there was no teacher on duty to go wailing to or to put him on a bench.

I was wrong, it could get worse.

Maybe not for me, since ideas on how to deal with my frustration was no longer the topic, but certainly for the adult population.

Aniond’s words seemed to have broken the ice and opened the floodgates. Suddenly I was swamped by elflings wanting to share what went on behind closed bedroom doors in there home.

Sometimes, I vehemently despise how observant young children can be, especially when it comes to things that they should not be learning for at least a decade yet. Such as certain profanities heard from older siblings that their parents refuse to clarify.

On the other hand, something told me that several adolescents were going to be landed in large amounts of trouble or given The Talk about where elflings come from.

Luckily for me, I was spared any further embarrassment by the arrival of a messenger from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, asking for Bella, Collum, Gretal and myself to meet with them about something.

We left, and I tried to convince myself that I had not been running.
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By the time the four of us reached the royal talen (yes I know they only took the titles of Lord and Lady, but still.) I had managed to calm down enough that I could safely attribute the pink tinge on my face to the exertion of climbing up all those blasted stairs. Honestly, the Giant Staircase near the Three Sisters in the Blue Mountains isn’t as bad!

When we finally arrived — children can only move so fast for a certain amount of time, after all — Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel’s expressions were unreadable.

The Lady motioned me forward, her face serious. Now I knew something was wrong, or at least something of relatively large importance was about to happen.

I was right.

She smiled, “We have found a way for two of you to journey back to your world, but for a price.”
I looked at her in surprise, which then faded to suspicion. “Only two of us, my Lady? And what is the price?” I knew there would be a price, there always was. No such thing as a free lunch, after all, but I had every intention of proverbially starving to death or waiting until dinner if the price was too high to pay.

A new voice cut in, “You must choose which two will return and which will remain. The two that remain will have a part to play in the coming events.”

I whirled around, recognizing the new-comer by description.

“Gandalf!”

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OK, next chapter up. Review and tell me what you think.
Nat.