Summary: A True Story by Nieriel Raina. What happens when creatures and people from Middle-earth move in? Your life is NEVER the same. Spiders on the porch? A warg in the bed? Elves in the closet? A dwarf in the kitchen? Welcome to my life...


WARNING: Utter ridiculousness ahead!! Please take the necessary precautions. I take no responsibility for laughter, snorting, spraying drinks, choking, or falling out of chairs. Please wear a seat belt!


A/N - If you take this seriously, you need more help than I.


This story was written to explain my comments over the years in various forum discussions, emails, author's notes or review replies concerning the unusual creatures that live in my home ranging from: the Spider, wargs, elves, dwarves, a Vala or two and various other critters. You may NOT have my spider or wargs! Please get your own. Contact the Southern Maryland Warg and Spider Rescue. For elves, please contact the Homeless Elf Board to see about adopting your own. You may not have mine.


And now you're asking yourself WHY? Why is she writing this nonsense? Well, because I am burned out and needed to write something totally off the wall in an effort to spark the muse back to life. She's been too overrun with far too serious plots of late. I warn you, this is a work in progress and probably the only one I'll post that isn't complete. It just really needs to be posted as it's written.


Now, on to the story!



A Mirkwood Spider Landed On My Front Porch

A True Story

by Nieriel Raina


Chapter One

Along Came A Spider


It all started on a cool day in April about three years ago. Birds sang joyfully, hailing the coming Spring, but as yet, the sun's warmth had not driven away the touches of winter, so I grabbed my jacket before I walked out the door…into a giant spider web. Stuck in the sticky, silky threads, I thrashed, but was unable to free myself. Now, I have always had spiders on my front porch, that was no surprise to me, but never before had one spun a web across the door, and never had the webbing been as thick as twine! There was no way one of my beautiful wolf spiders had spun this monstrosity!


I adore spiders. I guess I should go ahead and mention that up front. I have always found beauty in creatures that turns most females' stomachs, but I have never been a typical girl (now a woman of thirty-six). I never fit in with the primping females, nor understood their need to have perfect hair and nails. I have never in my life had fingernails longer than the tips of my fingers. For one, I bite my nails, but I have also always been involved in activities that are not known for promoting beautiful hands. I cut dog hair for a living. It is also difficult to play the piano when your nails tap on the keys; so even when I manage to not chew them down to nubs, I clip them short to avoid that nuisance.


And so, my fingernails were no help in releasing me from the sticky strands I was caught in.  Still, I fought against them, twisting violently as I thrashed about. It is a wonder none of my neighbors noticed my situation or heard my cries of frustration. But my neighbors are not very friendly anyway and mind their own business. But there was one who heard, and she quickly came to my aid, though when I first laid eyes upon her, I doubted she was my salvation.  At first, all I could see were large, black legs skittering towards me, then her body came into view. We have since determined she weighs at least forty pounds; I'm not sure if that is large or small for one of her kind, but to me, who had only recently seen bird eating spiders and thought them gigantic, she was enormous!


I did not even think to scream, for I was too fascinated watching such a creature move towards me. She was graceful, and her black body shimmered blue in the light, the soft hairs on her legs moving like grass upon the plain in the wind. She stopped before me, and well, I guess you could say she cocked her head and made a clicking sound with her jaws.


"You are a beautiful spider," I told her, completely oblivious to my precarious position.


To my shock, she replied! "Thank you. No one has ever told me such before. Perhaps, you are different from the elves who hunt my kind."


"Elves? Elves are faerie creatures, they are not real," I told her with a nod. She just looked at me for a moment, and I realized another such faerie creature was on my porch, so who was I to doubt the existence of elves. "Ok, elves. Why do they hunt you?"


"Because we eat them," was her reply, and that was when I remembered with horror that I was stuck in a large, sticky web. What was I to do? Yep. I screamed.


What happened next, I'm not exactly sure, for to my utmost shame...I fainted. When I woke, I was free of the web, in fact, the web was gone, but above my head, perched on the ceiling of the porch, was the spider. Surprisingly, I did not run inside, but figured since she had let me go, she must mean me no harm.


"Do I not taste good?" I asked.


"I do not know," she replied. "I do not wish to eat you. You were kind to me."


At this point, I glanced away and glanced back at her several times, just to make sure the juice I drank that morning had not fermented. But she was still there. "So...what do we do now?"


The spider shuffled, snuggled, something into the corner, and laid out her proposition. "I will live here on your porch and leave you alone. We will live in peace."


That sounded just fine to me, as long as she didn't eat me or the warg (he has his own story, so it is not worth mentioning here except to say I own a warg). "But what will you eat," I asked. Have you ever asked a stupid question? One you regretted as soon as it slipped out of your mouth? Yep! This was one of those questions, for stupid me reminded her of eating!


But she put me quickly at ease, and indeed, her idea worked well for me. "I will eat any solicitors and annoying children that come to bother you, and you will have time to write."


Well, I didn't know then what she was talking about with the writing, and I quickly informed her I had a child, so the children would need to be left alone. Instead, she was free to eat the neighborhood cats who wander at will and upset the warg. She agreed eagerly, offering to also eat lurking readers, but that comes later in the story.


Once we had our truce/friendship/peaceful agreement settled, I learned her story. I mean, how many people wake up one morning to find a spider on their porch? A forty pound spider? Yea, I didn't think you had.


Her story was interesting. You see, she is a descendant of a terrible creature called Ungoliant who lived long, long (we're talking ages and ages) ago in a place called Ennor (well, actually, Ungoliant lived originally in Aman, but that isn't important to this story) in Arda. And just because they are spiders...and eat people, they were given a bad reputation and hunted! But they really aren't as bad as I've been told, at least Legs isn't. Oh, that is what I named her. It was better than the name she had, one that hurts my ears when she says it. She says it is in something called Black Speech, but I don't know anything about that.


Anyway, in the wood where she lived, also lived elves. No, not those short people who help Santa! That is what I said, and Legs looked at me very funny. I guess in this wood named Mirkwood, the elves are quite tall and are terribly good looking. But they have nothing to do with this story, at least, not yet. You see, Legs's arrival, or maybe it was the warg's appearance, I'm not sure, began a chain of interesting visitors to my home, though why I call them visitors when they refuse to leave, I don't know! But I'm off track. I was telling you Legs's story.


Mirkwood had been darkened for many years by an evil power in the southern part of the wood. For nearly two millennia, the forest was dark, and that is why it was called Mirkwood. Makes sense to me! Well, after a long time of the spiders living happily under the dark trees, a great War was won a long way from the wood, and even there great battles were fought, and fire took many of Legs's kind. And the result was that the darkness lifted from the forest. The elves renewed their hunts for the spiders, and as Legs was fleeing from them, she fell into a deep dark hole...and landed on my porch.


Pretty cool, huh?


Chapter Two

Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction


So, after Legs (the 40 lb. spider that fell through a hole in Mirkwood and landed on my porch) and I became friends/formed a truce/decided to let her feast on the neighborhood cats and salesmen, life returned to normal. Well, as normal as life can get with a kid, a warg and a giant spider living together — and the spider talks...


Being a new fan of fan fiction, I read it a lot. I still do. But one day, well that dratted spider got it in her head to start telling me stories! See, she seems to think she was sent into our world to dictate to me in order to enlighten us with her tales of Middle-earth. And thus, as the chatter grew to extremely irritating levels, I decided to listen to her (I didn't have much of a choice as she would slip inside, plop down beside my desk and click her mandibles at me) and write the tales down. Thus, my muse was born!


I would just like to stop here and say that I was not a willing party to this insanity! When I first discovered fanfiction, I was enthralled, captivated, and down right impressed (but then I stumbled early across some of the best authors in the fandom rather than into the irritating, fangirl dribble — THANK ERU!) by the talent I discovered. And I enjoyed every story I read and even went so far as to print out stories and take it with me everywhere! Even to work. Yes, I was laughed at for my vice, but who cares, I was able to take the elf and dwarf with me everywhere I went and I was happy.


Then I signed up for an account. I think this was the true beginning, for once I had a pen name, I had the POWER! You know that power, do you not? I'm speaking, of course, of the power to REVIEW! And review I did. I left reviews on everything I read, good and bad, and my comments ranged from babbling, mindless praise to scathing remarks I now am ashamed of. But it was in reviewing that my writing began. How, you ask? Well, I received a PM from a fellow reviewer who commented that my reviews were rather entertaining and I should try my hand at writing my own stories. Of course, Legs snuck in and read my email and saw that PM and she used it against me! Whenever I tried to get out of writing down her stories, she would point and assure me that I could turn her tales into works of art because I left entertaining reviews!


Well, there is only so much harassment (not to mention arm bending and venom therapy – did you know spider venom can be used with hypnotic effects?) that one person can take! Legs began coming indoors more regularly, and she even fashioned a web above my desk where she'd tell me her stories and I would jot down notes to later form into tales of angst and friendship. Together, that spider and I whipped out our first novel (nearly 50,000 words!) in less than a month! And surprisingly...people liked it. They, in turn, left reviews, and let me tell you, the spider just ate that right up! The more reviews that came in, the more she would dictate for me to write. For months my fingers felt as if they would fall off! Over 1500 words a day on top of a full time job and being a single mom… And you thought YOU were busy? HA!


But inevitably, Legs discovered there were lurking readers. That was the day, my friends, the spider found more to eat than just salesmen and stray kitties! Reviewing isn't just a nice, considerate gesture; it could save you from a terrible fate! Death by spider is not something you want to experience. Messy business that. Trust me on this. I have had to clean up the remains and it's UGLY!  But let's not dwell on that.


It was several months into our writing duo efforts that the warg took an interest as well. Only HE has a soft side; a soft, mushy ROMANTIC side. And yes, he decided he was going to take up writing as well. After all, if a spider can be a muse, why not a warg? Have I mentioned how strange things are at my house?


You're wondering about the warg, now, aren't you? Where did HE come from? How does he fit into this story? Well, I'm not really sure when it happened. I used to own a beautiful shepherd/Great Dane mix, but one day he mutated into a warg. It happened sometime after I watched this trilogy of movies (Maybe you've seen them?) — The Lord of the Rings. I warn you, be careful if you watch that! And be double careful if you read the books! Strange things happen when you discover the writings of JRR Tolkien!!


So, my dog turned into a warg (and a cute warg he is too!), and things were just peachy. I was writing what Legs told me to write and we were getting great reviews when one day the warg tells me he wants to write a story, too. Didn't know wargs could talk, did you? I didn't either. Nearly wet myself, not to mention nearly checked myself into the local mental ward. But it turns out wargs do talk. Or maybe I've learned to speak canine. I'd rather not consider that.


Well, the warg and the spider had become pretty good pals, though their relationship is an interesting one (I swear he's half in love with her!); and the warg took an interest in the tales she was spinning. Such angsty tales of friendship, he said, should be balanced by some good steamy romance.


Romance? Yeah, whodathunkit? The warg likes romance! And Legomance at that! Frightening, isn't it?  I never would have considered it, but he's addicted beyond hope of recovery. And to be fair, he's pretty darn good if the review counts are to be trusted!


And so I found myself writing stories based on tales being dictated to me by a giant spider from another world/dimension/my overactive imagination and a dog turned warg! And all was just fine and peachy and lots of fun!


Then came the THUMP. The sound from the closet that changed my life forever and yes, for the weirder. Does your closet make thumping noises? If it does, DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR! Run for the hills and do not look back! For if you open the door, there is no telling what might come out…


Chapter Three

What Came Out of the Closet


Now I should back up a bit and explain that when Legs started spinning these great tales of her world, something incredible happened. One night, there was a thump in my closet – do you get thumps in your closet? I do. Frequently. And that night, well, it was before I understood just what all was going on, so I opened the closet door and found…not what I expected, for sure!


See, I discovered an elf and a dwarf in my closet! Together. No, not like that! They are not gay! At least, I don't think they are. That would be really awkward. Anyway, they were arguing and bickering and well, they were just plain annoying if you ask me. But since it's not every day an elf and a dwarf show up (at least it wasn't an everyday occurrence back then!), I invited them out of the closet, and we sat down and got comfy and chatted. Legolas and Gimli haven't left since. Not once. I've asked them to go…repeatedly. They refuse. In the end, I had to just accept they were here to stay.


Gimli took over the kitchen (he makes THE best omlettes!) and Legolas took over the laundry and cleaning (can we say neat freak?). At first, that was all great! I mean, a dwarf who cooks and an elf to do the housekeeping? Heaven, right?




They argue. All the time. Twenty-four/seven. And about the stupidest things! And they interrupt Legs as she's dictating to me, and add things to the story. But they never agree on how things happened and the next thing I know, I've got brawling going on! Right there in my living room! Sheesh! Have you tried to write with an elf and a dwarf brawling? The only way to break them up is to bring out the ale and wine.


But at first, it was really cool to have them here. I was fascinated by them both. Okay, I drooled all over the elf the first week, but let me tell you something, it is NOT what you think, having a sexy hunk of elf living with you! Don't you DARE leave the lid to the toilet open! Or a glass in the sink! Don’t even THINK about walking across the rug with your shoes on. You learn fast to be clean when an elf draws a sharp blade just because you forgot and ate a cookie on the sofa!


Gimli is easier to have around, though he is also the source of much of the bickering. He's not such a neat freak. He's more like me…a complete slob. But he's a good cook, so I don't complain much, though he drinks all my beer. I'm more of a wine person myself, but the elf drinks all that. I've been reduced to tossing back the cooking sherry. Still, all in all, it was doable. My house was clean (just not the kitchen. Gimli makes a huge mess and Legolas refuses to clean up after him), the laundry done, my meals cooked and we were never lacking for entertainment.


So I was rather surprised when I heard another thump coming from the closet. Noting from the loud ruckus in the laundry room that it was neither the elf nor the dwarf, I moseyed to my closet and my hand reached for the knob. I hesitated, because after a couple months with the brawlers, I was leery of anything else happening. And I still had the spider, who had become rather preachy, and the warg, who had began singing romantic comedy theme songs at the drop of a hat, to deal with.


I shrugged. After all that, nothing would phase me, right? Right? I turned the knob…


But wait! I've completely lost track of my previous tale. I was explaining about the warg and his propensity for romance. Drauglin (that's the warg) took over the story telling from time to time, as I said. He never tires of telling a good romance, though sometimes it takes him a LONG time to complete them. For instance, he started this one tale three years ago and just finished it last month. Three years! The spider writes circles around him. She also gets annoyed with him when he gets in his romantic moods. But the strange thing is, the two teamed up! And I found myself writing an epic length tale of angsty friendship, adventure and love. ME! Though with those two constantly arguing, it will be a miracle if it's ever completed.


I should also mention that I was not overly fond of romances when all this began. After my divorce from THE EX™, romance was the last thing on my mind. I instead loved tales of friendship, the kind of stories the spider weaved with ease. But Drauglin wouldn't let me avoid them, and the next thing I knew he had dragged me off to FFN where I was forced to read every story written by Nea's World. Pathetic fool that I am, I gave in and that was about the time I decided to open the door to the closet again.


Boy, was I in for a pleasant and life changing surprise! I turned the knob, pulled open the door and there standing before me was the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. Tall, shining, bright blue eyes…and his golden hair a cascade of waves and curls to his waist (he doesn't like to braid it. He's very vain about his hair), Glorfindel stood before me…buck naked!


Yes, you read that right! He was naked! Somehow, in transit from Middle-earth, he lost his clothes. But you won't hear me complaining! And the best part is, he took one look at me, and it was love at first sight. Okay, it was love at first sight for ME, but it seems he likes dyed red hair, so he liked me, too. 


Thankfully, I was no novice at the art of seduction, and elves follow those silly Laws and Customs traditions (at least some of them do), so he had never been seduced before. Didn't take long at all to win him over, and he was a fast learner, let me tell you! He is one elf that doesn't sleep in the closet. Glorfindel sleeps in my bed.


Now, I know what you're thinking. "There she goes, writing one of those 'Mary Sues'." Nope, this is the honest truth! I’m just telling you what happened.


And that, folks, was the day Glorfindel became my favorite Lord of the Rings character…and yes…he's a natural blond!




Chapter Four

Knock Before Opening the Bathroom Door


Life at my house is never dull. Not since I found Legs on the front porch and elves in my closets. Insane might be a better term for it, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.


It was not long after Glorfindel moved in, donned a pair of silky blue boxers, and parked his arse on my sofa reading the paper and sipping coffee *takes moment to gaze longingly at golden-haired Adonis in my living room* that there came a thump from the bathroom. Now, being a slow learner and immensely stupid at times, I slunk off to investigate this latest sound. (I've warned you not to open doors, haven't I?) I've since learned that thumps and bumps should be ignored at all costs. Trust me on this.


Up until then I'd only heard sounds coming from the closet, so the sound of rustling in the bathroom had me a bit concerned. But since Glorfindel was on the sofa, Gimli was in the kitchen baking cookies and Legolas was out back practicing his archery, I figured it had to be someone new who had simply shown up in a different locale, rather than someone using the facilities. And the sound of rustling made me think that at least whoever had shown up had arrived with clothing this time.


I crept up on the door, and eased the door open just enough to peer through the crack, in the hopes of learning just who had turned up this time. To my astonishment, I found the LAST elf I ever expected to show up at my house.




Really. It was him! Golden hair and everything! (and I DO mean EVERYTHING!) And yes, as I'd suspected, he had arrived with clothing. Too bad he wasn't quite wearing them…


Another piece of advice I must offer: When in doubt about who is in the bathroom and what they might be doing, KNOCK before opening the door!


So there I was, peering in the bathroom door at Thranduil. The door swung open (I must have bumped it when my hand flew up to my mouth to stifle my gasp), and all I could do was gape and stare in disbelief at the Elvenking himself, in MY house, in MY bathroom, sitting on MY TOILET!!!


I must pause here and state that for those of you who have wondered, yes, they DO, um, oh, never mind. But if you are visited by elves you might want to have some extra air freshener on hand. Trust me on this. I suggest forest scent. I would also like to take a moment to recommend that you never walk in on an elven lord in the bathroom. You simply do not want to catch one with their pants down around their ankles, especially not one like Thranduil. My ears are still ringing from the screams (did you know elven lords scream like little girls?) and I'm certain I had a concussion from the blow dryer he threw at my head. And I'm almost sure that I caught a glimpse of white silk boxers with red hearts, but maybe it was just my imagination, or due to the lump on my head.


I apologized profusely and slammed the door, leaving him to his business, and eventually, he came out and after his face returned to its normal shade of pale from the bright red it had been, he forgave me — but only after I promised him access to my wine and assured him that while Legolas and Gimli share a room, they do NOT share a bed. (In all honesty, I don't know what goes on in that room after the door is shut, and I really don’t want to know. But no way was I going to admit that to the princeling's FATHER, nor to Glóin who showed up in the laundry room shortly thereafter.)


There is one downfall of having the Elvenking in your house, especially if you have offered him free access to your liquor. You need to watch where you step, especially in the dark. I'll never forget the night after a vigorous…er, snuggle with Glorfindel that I felt parched and went to get a drink of water in the middle of the night and tripped over something in the dark. Flipping on a light, I discovered something shocking: Thranduil flat on his face in a drunken stupor in the middle of the kitchen. That was disconcerting enough, but realizing he was naked and laying partially on an equally unclothed Glóin with a bottle of chocolate syrup in his hand was… Well, I'd rather forget that, and I'm certain Thranduil is glad he cannot remember it.


Glóin just grins like a fool.


Legolas and Gimli quickly insisted that their fathers only come for short visits and not become permanent residents. I happily agreed, but my wine still goes missing. So long as I'm not tripping over naked elven kings (or dwarves)  in my kitchen, I won't complain too much.


It was not long after Thranduil and Glóin showed up that I heard something else coming from my bedroom. Not a thump, so much as a hum and a rustle and the sounds of…organization? I had begun to show some sense by this point, and instead of opening the closet door, went in search of Glory. He took me in his arms, kissed me and assured me that I was under no obligation to release whoever else had turned up.


Then the conniving elf so totally betrayed me by doing it himself!


Elves are sneaky like that, though of course, he denied it, stating that the elf in question let himself out. I can't complain too much. My house has never been so organized. My books are alphabetized and my kitchen shelves are labeled. And my bathroom has never been cleaner since Erestor showed up. And he doesn't only clean. Oh no, he shares cooking duties with Gimli, and makes some of the best spiced wine I've ever tasted!


But like everyone else who has shown up at my house, he is not without his quirks. The pristine Chief Councilor of Imladris, the immaculate librarian and Elrond's right hand man, it turns out has something of a WWF addiction. Whodathunkit? Erestor? Watching Wrestling? With Gimli no less! And in bike shorts! Black of course.


But while that is somewhat disturbing, I must say he makes a mean shrimp dip that goes great with the spiced wine.


Chapter Five

Hide the Car Keys!


So, I know what you're thinking. How can I possibly top Glorfindel showing up naked, or walking in on Thranduil sitting on the toilet, or even Erestor watching WWF. If only life had remained so dull! One can wish, right?


Life moved on at it's usual pace (which around here is nonstop madness!). Legs the spider continued to dictate stories (she's quite the tyrant) and even the warg's muse grew and I found myself writing romances mixed in with the usual angst, friendship and humor story. I threw myself into the writing and tried to just accept the strange household I had come to have. After all, before I watched those movies, life was rather dull, and now it was full of elves, dwarves, and strange creatures. And Glorfindel in my bed (that's the best part, I admit.)


But nothing could have prepared me for what came next. Those who had come out of the closet (or bathroom) were nothing compared to the day I found the sons of Elrond in my car. 


Yea, in my car — DRIVING IT!! Did you know they could drive? Neither did I! Scary thought, isn't it? Turns out they have a Starbucks addiction. Not that I'm complaining, so long as they remember to bring me those vanilla bean scones.


Okay, so maybe Starbucks and driving don't quite compare to Erestor watching WWF in bike shorts, (Damn, he looks hot in those things, but don't tell Glorfindel I said so, okay?) and if that were it, I'd not have a story to tell. Elves that drive isn't such a new concept in fanfiction, but have you ever seen them show off by driving everywhere in reverse? With their identical twin mooning other drivers out the back window?  I mean, can you imagine the conversations I've had with law enforcement officials?


"No officer, I'm not certain whose…er, rear end that was in my car."


"No sir, I did not report my car stolen because I didn't think you'd believe me when I said elves stole my car." (Yes, WE know they're really peredhil, but it's not like your average police officer will know what peredhil are so trying to explain it only gets you in deeper. Trust me.)


I know, I know, you're thinking, there she goes with the typical practical jokester twins. How cliché can you get, right? Well, first of all, have YOU met them? I had no control over them, and yes, at first, they were quite the pranksters, until I got to know them a bit better. Once you dig deeper you find they have deep emotional issues and the pranks are only their way of acting out. I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with having to endure Glorfindel's and Erestor's arguing for nearly an age. I know I've only had to endure it for a few years and it's driving me up the walls! Why, I'm tempted to join the twins next trip and moon people myself! Of course, they'd get off scot-free, and I'd get arrested…




It was another typical day, and the twins were on a Starbucks/mooning run in my car, while I was stuck at home with my 'houseguests' when instead of a thump or bump, I heard…music. I don't know how else to describe the sound. Not quite like bells chiming, but not fabricated like a keyboard's imitation of bells chiming, but something more…dramatic and deep, like windchimes made from trash cans being played by an oliphant. And did I mention the air sparkled?


I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. The air shimmered and the sound grew. It sounded like…well, I'd say singing, but it was more like cows dying. Then the next thing I knew there was this dark, foreboding guy standing in my living room. He looked like the ultimate Goth or Emo: Pale skin, long blue-black hair (obviously a dye job!) held back in elf braids (everyone seems to mimic the elves) and black, black clothes like I've never seen before in a style to DIE for! I just LOVED his clothes and thought I simply must raid his closet sometime.


At least until some other guy stepped around him and announced the Emo dude as the Lord of Mandos before disappearing into thin air.


Yea, really, the Lord of Mandos, in MY living room. Whodathunkit? I didn't even know who he was, not having read the Silmarillion yet.


"Nice to meet you," I said. "Cool clothes."


All around me, the elves all trembled in terror. Even the spider hid her face behind her eight legs, causing her to nearly fall off her web. The warg ran howling into the bedroom and clambered under the bed. Gimli slipped into the kitchen to bake cookies. I started to get concerned. I'd never seen any of these guys act like this before. And just as the Vala opened his mouth to speak (probably some Doom by the way the elves were shaking and crying), the twins returned with trays of Starbucks and bags of scones.


To my surprise, Námo took one look at my frothy vanilla bean Frappacino and swiped it right up! Then he ate my scones.


No one eats my scones! Or steals my Frappacino!


To say I was a bit put out would be putting it mildly. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, which happened to be Legolas's bow (he was hiding behind the sofa from some scary girl with multicolored hair, a toothy smile and some sparkly Cinderella dress that looked to come from the Disney store. Mary Something or other (that's her name) showed up not long after Legolas did, claiming Legs was her one true love. We usually throw her right back out but she keeps coming back, even if you fill her full of arrows).  Anyway, I grabbed Legolas's bow and cracked it over the Lord of Mandos' head!


Did you know Lord Námo has a sense of humor? Did you know that Legolas screams like a girl if you take his bow? Did you know elves can snort coffee out their noses? Did you know that dwarves wear silk underwear… Um… scratch that last.


Seems no one has never, ever challenged the Lord of Mandos concerning anything. Everyone is too afraid of him because he's the 'Doomsman of Arda' whatever that is. Turns out he has a really great laugh, and was only just looking for a good time and had heard about some fractured port in time and space that everyone had been slipping through and thought he'd come check it out. 


And after quickly reading the Silmarillion to see who the heck he was, I could only think "Great, how does one entertain the Vala of Death?" Turns out he likes WWF too, quickly developed a Starbucks addiction to rival the twins, and instead of mooning people, he flashes them.


And I thought the Balrog slayer was nicely hung!


Note to self: Never, ever ogle a married Vala, no matter how naked he may be. As petite as Vairë is, she's quite terrifying when someone shows any interest in her man. Think Medusa on crack and you'll have a good idea what I mean. Took Námo back home by his ear, she did. He still sneaks in from time to time, but since I've moved, Vairë hasn't found us again.


If only I could say the same for Fëanor…




Chapter Six

Lock Your Doors!


My life is never dull. Well, it used to be, before I discovered The Lord of the Rings and related books, movies and characters therein. But when the characters MOVED in, life ceased ever resembling dull. Nope. Not a moment of it. Between the guys yelling as they watch WWF (Námo is thinking of joining and becoming a wrestler if he can sweet talk Vairë into it), Thranduil arguing with Glorfindel over hair grooming products, Legolas running and screaming from Mary Whatshername, Gimli baking to rival Martha Stewart and the twins and their mooning trips to Starbucks… Well it couldn't get worse, right?




Of course it could. And did. The day I opened The Silmarillion. See, I needed to figure out just who Lord Námo was, and book opening seemed to have jiggled the space time continuum from the Third Age of Middle-earth to the FIRST Age. Personally, I think Námo was tired of some of his 'guests' and got Aulë to adjust it. Or maybe it’s a practical joke of Morgoth’s? However it happened, I opened my closet door one day to find another gloriously golden and naked elf…trying on my shoes!


Thus came Finrod. I guess being torn apart by werewolves will really mess you up. Now I have a fight on my hands any time I want to go out. At least if I want to wear MY clothes!


The conversations usually go something like this:


Finrod: "I was going to wear that!"


Me: "It's MY dress!"


Finrod: "I don’t care! It looks better on ME!"


Me: *sigh* "Who am I to argue with a cross-dressing once dead King of Nargathrond?"


By the way, he is NOT a natural blond. He uses some kind of berry bleach. It works on his head hair. But other, um, hair is…um…red. Orange really. Think The General Lee orange, like a beacon announcing his, er… Oh, never mind. It’s not really worth announcing! Felagund? Hewer of caves? Not with THAT miniscule equipment!


Ahem… I digress. My clothing budget has tripled. I make Finrod help pay for it though. He got a gig down at this place up the road where he sings those songs of power and gets pretty good tips. Whatever, so long as it pays for his dresses and high heels! Though we really did NOT need one more golden haired male elf arguing over the use of the bathroom and forced to share a single blow dryer! MY bathroom now has a pad lock on it. They have to share the other one.


And it seems Finrod didn’t come alone, for the next thing I knew, his family relations were turning up left and right. Like Maedhros and Maglor, who turned up in aquariums. As fish. I'm thinking it's punishment for the kinslaying or something. Maedhros only has one fin, like Nemo. It’s charming actually; he swims in circles while Maglor blows bubbles that pop in the most interesting tunes. Being a fish hasn’t harmed his musical ability one bit.


And then there’s Pops. At least that’s what the twins call him. You know, Finarfin, King of the Noldor, father of that bitch Galadriel? Oh don’t look at me like that! I did not call her that! HE calls her that! “That bitch, Galadriel, my daughter.” Seems he’s pissed at her for leaving Aman in search of power. Never mind she now mopes and cries that her ring doesn’t work anymore. Personally, it looks like something she got out of a box of cereal! Glorfindel assures me that’s EXACTLY where she got it. Just between you and me, she’s not that impressive. I’m thinking she paid someone off to get the passages she got in the books, because that strong leader she’s portrayed as?? Nope. Not seeing it.


And Celeborn?? He’s never forgiven Thingol for arranging that marriage and lying about it being a love match. He mopes about a lot, muttering about that damn Ring of his wife’s and glaring at anything and anyone. I introduced him to Galion so now he’s usually drunk and making up drinking songs about uses for that ring of Galadriel’s. But I digress. I’m sure you have no interest in Galadriel’s Ring Pop.


It was around this time that the spider developed an affection for wine. The warg calls it an addiction, Glorfindel calls it an obsession and blames Thranduil for sharing the Dorwinion, something Thranduil vehemently denies since he doesn’t share his wine with anyone! But regardless of who got her hooked on it, since she started drinking, she’s been far more fickle in giving me stories to tell.


And that warg, I never did get around to really telling HIS side of the story (and honestly, I couldn’t really do so in a PG-13 rated fic!), but suffice to say that his romance musings are never ending, though his thoughts jump from one story to another so quickly I can’t keep up, let alone write them down! But you never know when something might turn up authored by that elusive and playful Warg.


And so dear readers, it seems I have come to the end of this tale. Believe me when I say that life is never dull around my house, and if for some reason you should awake and find yourself stuck in a giant web on your front porch, DO NOT make a deal with the spider! Your life will never be the same! And be sure to check your closets (or bathrooms, laundry rooms, dishwashers) carefully for signs of marauding (and naked) elves, for once they enter your home, you are stuck with them for life!


And that scratching at the back door? Ignore it. In fact, keep it locked tight! For if you feed it, it won’t leave. Trust me on that.


The End





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