(collaborative meta)fic: Loose Ends
Title: Loose Ends
Source: LotR. LotR fanfic. And a whole bunch of other stuff, some of which is enumerated within the text itself.
Authors: Myself (aliana1) and Dwimordene (dwimordene_2011)
Characters: The cast of Triage, e.g. Valacar, Narrator and Fíriel from Fallen and Eledhril from Semper Fidelis. Guest appearances by Lord Aradîr (also from Fallen) and a Giant Talking Eagle.
Warnings: Deeply unfunny, potentially trigger-y subject matter (including, but not limited to, rape, abortion, sexism, homophobia, adultery, homicide and suicide) used as fodder for ironic meta-humor. Not for the easily offended-that said, if you aren’t at least a little offended by the content of this story, you might want to examine your personal values system; anyway, tongues are to be kept firmly in cheek by all. Off-the-charts snark index, with detours into deconstructive theory. Lots of swearing, some sexually suggestive dialogue. Also, Valacar being a complete jackass. (And if you even care if you’ve made it this far into the story header-which I certainly wouldn’t-major spoilers for Fallen, Triage and Semper Fidelis.)
Summary: While waiting to learn the fate of Middle-earth after the Siege, some of the most self-aware original characters in Minas Tirith tackle, among other things, patriarchy, highly explicit medical literature, authorial decision-making, Freudian psychoanalysis, what happens when you don’t have an actual name, and the reasons for their very existence…They also, on occasion, tackle one another-literally.
Note: This metafic was written entirely as a comment thread to this story post, prompted entirely by an editing remark that got really, really out of hand. As you shall see.
aliana1
…A previous draft also featured a second exchange between Eledhril and Narrator, in which he attempts to get more information from her about Valacar and the circumstances of his dismissal, but I took it out because it didn't really add anything and was unnecessary to the story. Also she probably wouldn't say anything substantive to him…
dwimordene_2011
…Poor Narrator! Here she is, trying to handle post-traumatic stress after sexual assault, and she's being interrogated by large, suicidal strangers. I'm sure in metafic land, she's very pleased to have been spared that!
aliana1
… Narrator: *pulls out dagger of her own* Damn straight!
dwimordene_2011
Eledhril, skeptically: Does she know how to use that?
Valacar: Does she look like she knows how to use it?
Eledhril: Damn, boy, don't you teach your women anything around here? What is she, twelve? That's old enough for you to give her those pointers.
Valacar *envisioning Narrator as the object of his suicide pointers talk*: Um, that would be incredibly awkward. And she's not twelve.
Eledhril: Then she should know how to use one of those. *grousing* Wouldn't have her for a daughter-in-law if she couldn't at least pin an orc at twenty paces...
Valacar: Have I mentioned that your proclivities disturb me, and that that's really saying a lot, given my generally repressed and self-deprecating state of being?
Narrator: Not to interrupt while you're talking about me in front of me, but I don't really want to know how to use this on myself, thanks.
Eledhril: Okay, fine, but whoever gave you that really should have taught you how to use it on someone else or he wasn't being responsible.
Valacar: Who did give you that, anyway?
Narrator, getting increasingly irritated: You know, you're inspiring me to think maybe using this on other people wouldn't be such a bad idea...
Eledhril *scribble scribble*: Here's my room number if you feel you want a go at it.
aliana1
Narrator *eyes Eledhril with interest*: So, you could show me how to pin an orc at twenty paces, huh?
Eledhril: Or, you know, other things. At considerably closer range.
Valacar: Okay, why don't you just give that to me, now?
Eledhril: Why? You already know where I--
Valacar: No, I mean the dagger. [To Narrator] I'll take that, and you can just go back to whatever you were doing before...
Narrator: Oh, you mean crying in the fetal position?
Eledhril: Jesus Christ. [To Valacar] If you're not going to give her a Suicide Talk, someone should at least give her the homicide version.
Valacar: Is this what passes for responsible adolescent stewardship where you come from?
Eledhril: *snorts* And I suppose you people just tell them something about birds and bees and send them on their merry way?
Valacar: *considers this* Well, that often suffices. [pause] I can think of some other things that could use some pinning at close range, on that note.
Eledhril: Can you, now?
Narrator: Um, guys, I am RIGHT HERE. [sotto voce] I suppose this is what I get for having a deviant for a mentor.
Valacar: Don't you have a fetal position to return to, or something?
dwimordene_2011
Eledhril: No, dear, it's what you get for living in a class-conscious patriarchy. But here, look... [grabs Valacar in headlock]. Eyes, up the nose, strike to throat, knee to groin if you can -
[Valacar *flail!!*]
Eledhril *shifts grip, pins an arm*: [to Valacar] Hold still, will you, you're being instructive. [to Narrator] Knee to groin, as I was saying, but believe me, we're ready for that one, so don't expect to get that until you've done something else. And if he gets close enough to you, bite and don't let go - let him tear his own face off. Got it so far?
Narrator, wide-eyed: *nod nod* Yes.
Eledhril: Good. With a dagger, it's easier - just aim for whatever isn't covered by armor, and don't try for the groin in this case. They don't just make iron undies for women in this messed up society, and we all have a vested interest in reproducing. [Pause] Okay, most of us do. [Lets Valacar go] Damn, why do I always fall for the ones who'll never have kids?
Valacar, wheezing: I wouldn't let you near my kids after that!
Narrator: [To Valacar] You don't look like you're hurt or anything. [To Eledhril] I know what you wear - remember, I'm the one who has to do all the menial labor to get it off you so he can torture you medically in the name of healing.
Eledhril: Good point. Okay, so go forth, grasshopper, and slay your enemies. Rack up a nice body count and impress your guy.
Narrator: Thanks... I think.
Valacar: You are so going to pay for this.
Eledhril: Any time you want to make that happen, you just let me know...
aliana1
Firiel walks in: Um, everything okay here?
Eledhril: Peachy. Just a little impromptu self-defense workshop.
Firiel eyes Eledhril: I see. [To Valacar] Who's this, Val? Bit of rough trade?
Eledhril glares: Rough trade?
Narrator, wrinkling her nose: Val?
Valacar: [To Firiel] This is Eledhril, and I think that technically he's way too Numenorean to qualify as "rough trade." [To Narrator, chagrined] She's the only one who's allowed to call me that.
Firiel: Hi, Eledhril. [Glances at his left hand. Then, to Valacar] Hmm...thought you'd sworn off married men.
Valacar: Yeah, well, it's a long story.
Firiel: *snorts* Considering it's you, I somehow doubt that. [Pause] As your friend and, apparently one of the few emotionally competent people left in this city, I feel justified in pointing this out.
Valacar: I hate everyone.
dwimordene_2011
Firiel: Don't exaggerate, Val, it's not becoming. Although, you could work on disliking adultery a little more.
Eledhril [to Valacar]: You probably should work on that.
Narrator: But didn't you two just - ?
Eledhril: Love the sinner, hate the sin, I always say.
Valacar: I'm fairly certain that concept postdates us.
Eledhril: Foresight - I got the linguistic version of it.
Firiel: I think Narrator should walk you back, Val.
Valacar: Because that will do wonders for both of our reputations?
Firiel: Because then you'll remove the underaged girl from this situation and I can ask all the awkward questions of your... friend... Eledhril while you're gone.
aliana1
Valacar, reluctantly: All right, Narrator, come on.
[walking]
Narrator: *grumbling* I don't think I'm underaged.
Valacar: Under the archaic guidelines formulated by our much longer-lived Numenorean forbears, I'm pretty sure you are. And at this point, what do have going for us except archaic Numenorean guidelines, strictly followed to the letter?
Narrator: At any rate, that didn't keep me from being allowed to volunteer myself for what has become a suicidal front-line military operation. [pause] Nor did it keep you from serving me alcohol, apparently.
Valacar: That's different. I'm a professional.
Narrator: Can I ask you a question? So, how, um... I mean, when it's two guys... How do you...?
Valacar: There is no way I am having this conversation with you.
Narrator: Strictly as a matter of medical interest, say. Also, the internet hasn't been invented, yet.
Valacar: Given your, hmm, position at the moment, your interest in sex is a little odd, don't you think?
Narrator glares at him murderously: Okay, wow, Captain Tactful. Need I remind you that only one of us is carrying a dagger at this moment? [pause] Val.
Valacar: *sigh* All right, well, don't say you weren't warned. [Leans over and whispers in her ear]
Narrator: Seriously?
Valacar: Wait, I'm not done... [Continues to whisper]
Narrator, caught between fascination and horror: Wow. No wonder it's illegal here.
Valacar: *deeper sigh* Here, and Uganda. Oh, and probably Alabama. [pause] C'mon, kid, let's have another drink.
Meanwhile...
Eledhril: Just so you know, I really don't appreciate that whole "rough trade" remark.
Firiel: Hey, former working girl, here. Didn't mean it in a bad way.
Eledhril: I commend you on your upward mobility.
Firiel: Thanks. I think. So, you and Val...?
Eledhril: *shrugs* Yeah. We had some...awkwardness at the beginning, but overall, not bad.
Firiel: Celebrating masculine warrior bonds in the face of death, I presume?
Eledhril: It's complicated.
Firiel: And I suppose you're one of those garden-variety closet cases who gets married in conformity with dynastic norms, and hopes of societal acceptance? Because he has a knack for finding those.
Eledhril: Like I said, it's complicated...
Firiel, interested: Do go on.
dwimordene_2011
Eledhril *squirm*: How about let's not and say we did?
Firiel: Don't tell me you're going to stand on your masculine dignity, which, by objective legal standards is in shreds at this point.
Eledhril: Well, look, I'm sure you're a reasonable human being, but I have a stereotype to uphold here: tall, dark, handsome, wounded in ways physical and mental, and - most importantly - secretive.
Firiel: You're not doing so well at the last. Just to say.
Eledhril: Don't you have patients to oversee?
Firiel: They're mostly waiting to live or die - this is M.T., we uphold sexism differently from you northerners. In any case, there's nothing I can do about that at this point.
Eledhril: Hm. We seem to be at an impasse here: my sexism and its attendant complicated relationship to homoeroticism seem to be at crossroads with your sexism and curiosity. [pause] Although, given that, I could just stand on my patriarchal rights, declare the conversation done, and tell you to please go away.
Firiel: Sorry, but no, because if you do that, I'm going to have Valacar hanging about my ward, smelling vaguely of brooding and alcohol, and I need that like I need an arrow in my eye. And since you seem big on the secrecy, you do know you're playing with fire, right? He told you about his relationship with He Who Must Not Be Named?
Eledhril *is taken aback*: With Sauron?
Firiel *headdesk*: No! [lowers voice] With his boss. Who, I might add, was the one who relieved him of duty and who probably is still looking to burn loose ends, if you know what I mean.
Eledhril: Oh. No. [to self] I'm feeling some déjà vu here...
Meanwhile, in Valacar's room:
Narrator, clutching second glass: ... so then I was all, like, help! But he was like, lots bigger, and like, I never really thought about this sort of thing happening, because, like, who the eff does? But it's really, like, weird how you think it's worse than you imagined, even though you never actually imagined it. You know?
Valacar: I'm never giving you liquor again.
Narrator *less gushy, more morose, tosses back another shot*: Nobody's going to buy me a drink ever. Except maybe Beren.
Valacar: Who?
Narrator: Oh. You know, the guy - the other guy. He's pretty cute. You'd like him.
Valacar: I... reserve comment.
Narrator, continuing on as if oblivious: He proposed to me, and I totally freaked out, and it was so awkward, and I haven't told you about this, but he might marry me anyways. That guy.
Valacar: I see.
Narrator: But I'm totally terrified it won't happen, because what if I'm pregnant right now? I mean, that can happen even on the first time right?
Valacar: The evidence would seem to tilt that way, yes... [beat] Um, listen, if you're worried, there are some ways to, ah, deal, if it turns out that you...
Narrator: Would you marry me?
Valacar: ... ... ...
aliana1
Narrator: *does another shot* I mean, it'd be great! We could, like, have separate bedrooms, and you could do, well, you know, that really gross stuff you told me about, on the side. I totally would not mind, like, as long as you kept the noise down, but we all know that you're good at that, anyway.
Valacar: Mmm, yeah. I don't think so, sweetie.
Narrator: Oh my god, you think I'm damaged goods, too, don't you? Even the gay guy thinks I'm damaged goods. *Puts her head down on the table and cries* [Muffled] Is it because I'm functionally illiterate? It is, isn't it?
Valacar: [To himself] Sweet Jesus, not this again.
Meanwhile...
Firiel: At any rate, I would say some damage control is in order.
Eledhril: Yes, probably. [pause] So, do you guys have like, a really, really discreet laundry service around here?
Firiel: Um, I guess I was thinking more at the macro level.
Eledhril: Oh, okay. [thinks] So, who's this boss guy? I could run a little recon, maybe do a little pre-emptive strike... I'm a professional, you know.
Firiel: I'm...gonna say no to that one, too.
Eledhril: Hey, I wouldn't kill him, or anything. [pause, then, in a lower voice] Unless you wanted me to. I could totally knock him off. Make it look like an accident. I've done it a billion times.
Firiel: Look, why don't you guys just try to keep each other out of trouble, whatever that entails, while I try to figure something out. We should maybe go and check on him, anyway.
Eledhril: I would still like to know about the laundry at some point.
A few minutes later...
Firiel *knocks on Valacar's door*: Hey, it's me. And your, uh, friend.
Valacar *opens door*: Oh. Uh, hey. *Firiel and Eledhril walk in*
Eledhril: Why is the eighth-grader crying?
Valacar: Uh, I think because I don't want to marry her.
Eledhril: And this came up...how?
Valacar: And she can't read. And she's drunk. [pause] Also, she thinks she might be pregnant because some crazy guy raped her in an alley. [pause] I just said that out loud, didn't I?
Narrator: *lifts her head from the table* What the fuck is wrong with you?
Eledhril: Isn't that a capital crime?
Narrator: It's not my fault I can't read!
Eledhril: No, I mean the other thing.
Valacar: I can't remember--It's either that, or she has to marry the guy. Or he has to pay a moderate fine to her dad for property damage. Depends on which wretchedly patriarchal quasi-Europe we're inhabiting at the moment, I guess.
Eledhril: Hmm. This might call for a little vigilante justice.
Narrator: What's that?
Eledhril: *holds up his index finger* Judge, jury, executioner. It's pretty cool, actually.
Firiel: Okay, that's it. No one is going outside. Like, ever again.
dwimordene_2011
Narrator: I'm going out!
Firiel: No you're not.
Narrator: I'm not going to stand around while these two [jerks thumb at Eledhril and Valacar] get it on. I mean, what he was saying -
Valacar, trying to cover: Anyway, you have patients to attend to, so you would have to leave, Firiel.
Firiel: Nice try - what did you tell her, Val?
Valacar: Nothing she couldn't have found in the Southern Dominion Journal of Medicine.
Eledhril: Which is nothing, right, since she's functionally illiterate? [pause] Right?
Valacar: Right.
Narrator, with inebriate tenacity: Wrong! You told me how you -
Firiel, leafing through a journal: Which volume, pray tell?
Valacar *uncomfortable*: I... don't remember, really.
Firiel, holds up volume 262, January 3019 edition: Because if it was this one, the images wouldn't leave much to the imagination of even illiterate minors.
Narrator, goggles at journal cover: Whoa! Seriously? I am, like, totally squicked! [hits Valacar in the arm] I thought you were kidding about that part!
Eledhril, eying Narrator's dagger: You know the homicide version of that chat, Val...?
Valacar, pained: Try it this time, and I might just let you.
Narrator, scrambling back, dagger clutched tightly: Fuck you, Val! OMG, what is with the crazy military types today? Get back!
Eledhril: Not you, kiddo...
Firiel: All right, that's it! Narrator, dear, calm down, I'm going to have you come with me - you're drunk, and you need to sleep it off. I'm going to get you doped up, cleaned up, and I'm going to perform a very thorough physical examination on you even if I have to hire someone to kill Ara- I mean, the boss - later to cover my tracks from the sexist malpractice laws. As for you two... [pause]
Eledhril and Valacar: Yes?
Firiel: Proceed as planned. Just please don't leave too big of a mess, because you know I'm going to have to clean it up!
Exuant Firiel et Narrator, stage left.
Eledhril: She usually take care of your dirty laundry?
Valacar: I only wish. Sort of. [pause] Okay, maybe not.
Eledhril: Hey, you could do worse. Is she married?
Valacar: Anyway, about that pyre reenactment...
Eledhril: No good. I'm not setting fire to the room.
Valacar: I was going to say, if perhaps homicide and self-slaughter aren't sufficiently interesting, I could get some reading done, since, as Firiel pointed out, I have this backlog since January...
Eledhril: Whatever. [spins journal around to face him] Damn. You're sure this is a medical journal?
Valacar: Top journal in its field. Not that I am in any way sympathetic to imperialism, except in a highly nostalgic fashion proper to the romanticized patriotism we imbibe with the water here, but I'll give it to Harad - their psychology and reproductive health divisions are second to none and pretty much everyone under Mordor's dominion is conforming forcibly to their clinical model.
Eledhril, flipping pages: Not much reproduction going on here that I can see, unless you have some disturbing things to tell me about what happened to your biology in the several centuries of separation from Arnor...
aliana1
Meanwhile, back in the wards...
Narrator *still drunk but coming down slightly*: Firiel, men are the worst.
Firiel *sighs*: Tell me about it. And keep drinking that coffee, dear.
Narrator: No, I mean it! They can ignore us, treat us like dirt, and then when they want real fellowship and emotional vindication, they just go off and do vile things with each other!
Firiel: Well, you're certainly not the first one to point that out. It does suck, to say the least.
Narrator: I mean, it's like, if they didn't need us around for reproductive purposes, it's like we might as well not exist!
Firiel *uncomfortable*: Um, actually, certain quarters hold that...
Narrator *gapes in horror*: Wait, do you mean that...?
Firiel *trying to change the subject quickly*: But Beren's all right, isn't he?
Narrator: Yeah. [pause] Well, he seems like a really nice guy and all, but who's to say he won't kick me to the curb once he realizes that he can't ensure the paternity of any issue our marriage might produce?
Firiel: [beat] You know, for someone who claims to be functionally illiterate, you have an awfully large vocabulary.
Narrator *shrugs*: I'm a good listener.
Aradir: *walks up* Afternoon, ladies. How's the morale doing, here in the wards?
Narrator: Well, sir, as long as you're asking-- *Firiel stomps on her foot* Ow!
Firiel: Everything's great. A-plus. Totally under control.
Aradir: Um, is she okay?
Firiel: Yep. She's totally fine. Not a care in the world.
Aradir: [beat] Is she drunk?
Firiel: Drunk? *forced laugh* No, god! Who here would possibly serve alcohol to minors?
Aradir: I can think of a few...
Meanwhile, in Valacar's room...
Valacar *sitting at the table*: ...so, yeah, peer review can just be a real bitch, you know?
Eledhril *lying on bed, staring at the ceiling, not really listening*: Oh, yeah. Sure. Tell me about it.
Valacar: Anyway, my current research involves the correlation between inadequate fingernail hygiene and grooming, and infections in the, er...rectal tract... For populations where that's an issue, you know.
Eledhril *grunt of agreement*: Yeah, now that one's a bitch.
Valacar: The problem is, I can't really find enough data to disprove the null hypothesis.
Eledhril: Really? [pause] I could probably help you out, there...
dwimordene_2011
Enter Aradir, through door
Aradir: That's an... interesting... tableau.
Valacar, flips journal over quickly: How the f- that is, how... unexpected.
Aradir: That's rather the point. [eyes Eledhril, who stares right back] It's the middle of a siege, and you're... what? Offering a complete stranger the use of your bed in the middle of the day, with all the drapes closed?
Valacar: Er...
Aradir: Little obvious, there, Val.
Valacar: It was - I... [brightly] research. Alternative medicine. [gestures to Eledhril] Injured defender, no draughts, and, as you know, I'm not allowed on the wards, so I figured, you know, I can't practice any of the accepted procedures, so therefore, do what I can since he asked... [to Eledhril, sotto voce] This would be an excellent moment to offer corroborating testimony, hint hint.
Eledhril, distracted briefly from staring: Hm? Sure. Yeah - it's this new form of research for health.
Aradir, skeptical: And it requires you to be lying in his bed?
Eledhril: It's not like we're both lying here. That'd be evidence of something.
Aradir: And so this is, what, then? And is that lipstick on that shot glass rim?
Valacar, discreetly leaning in front of Narrator's glass: Ah, it's... it's a method. A new method. In psychology. This [gestures to journal] says so. He has to be reclining, you see.
Aradir: Oh really?
Valacar: Yes. And I have to sit, ah... [lifts a single page slightly, squints] here.
Aradir: Mm hm. Then what?
Valacar: I, um, I have to... to ask him questions. About, you know, things.
Aradir, totally not buying this: Things like...?
Valacar: Er...
Eledhril: "Rings."
Valacar: What?
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: That's what comes to mind when you say 'things.' I think of rings. [To Aradir] It's the method: it's an archaeology of mental associations intended to bring to light the symbolic structure of my trauma, so that I won't off myself in a fit of angst some entries down the page. Or tomorrow.
Aradir: You're suicidal?
Eledhril, eyes go a little unfocused: "Happy."
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: No, keep going, you're doing great. Who are you?
Aradir: Who are you?
Valacar, trying to smooth things over: This is Lord Aradir. He's, um...
Aradir, glaring at Valacar: His boss.
Eledhril: "Gay."
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: You. It's what you make me think of.
Aradir goes dead white: That's - that's nonsense! What could possibly - ?
Eledhril: The fact that you obviously have his room key to get in here unasked. Also: "Val." Dead give away.
Aradir: Who are you?
Eledhril: The king's lieutenant's sister's best friend's husband. Also, very well-armed and not particularly rational at this moment. Hence, treatment. "Twenty-five," Valacar, btw - in answer to your previous word "null."
Valacar, sits up a bit straighter: Really?
Eledhril: Really. [To Aradir] Your move. Any more words?
Aradir, thinks a moment: What does the word "silent" make you think of?
Eledhril: "Departure."
Aradir: I see. [To Valacar] Well, um, carry on, then. But keep it off the wards - you're still not practicing. You are still under suspension for violation of the Code. And I'd better not find out you've been corrupting minors, either.
Eledhril: "Rectal."
Aradir: I said min-or, not min-er!
Eledhril: Oh. [beat] Hey, look - you're wearing a ring.
Aradir: Because I'm married and unavail - I mean, respectable! Unlike him, I have a wife!
Eledhril: "Beard."
Aradir: Okay, that's it - I need a drink. And since my wife isn't here, and it's been a shitty day, and beneath the veil of heteronormativity I can't help but notice that God you two are disgustingly cute together, I think I'll be taking this with me. [Snags journal] Because on further consideration, you're not to practice at all. Session closed!
Exuant Aradîr
Eledhril: Well... session closed. Back to research I guess. So... you need any experimental subjects?
aliana1
Meanwhile…
Firiel *in corridor, on phone*: Hi, dispensary? I’m calling to ask about emergency contracep- No, for another person, not that it’s any of your bus- [pause, rolls her eyes] A teenager. [pause] No, I’m not. [pause] What do you mean, parental consent? Look, buster, her dad dropped from cirrhosis when she was nine, and her mom’s in a refugee camp, most likely living under a plastic tarp and cooking over a garbage can fire. Can't you just give the kid the pills? [pause] What do you mean, her insurance wouldn’t cover it anyway? [pause] Well, same to you! [pushes end button] Crap.
Valacar's room. Valacar lies on the bed, writing, while Eledhril sits at the table, paring his fingernails with a dagger.
Eledhril, skeptical: You sure about this whole hygiene thing? Is it actually necessary?
Valacar: It's for science--we'll find out. [beat] You know, some people actually find cleanliness highly alluring. You can only coast on the unkempt, stringy-haired outdoorsman stereotype for so long.
Eledhril: Hey, if it ain't broke... Fine, but next time, you have to indulge my weird fetishes.
Valcar, interested: Such as...?
Eledhril looks around the room thoughtfully: First of all, it would be helpful if you had a medium-sized--
*Enter Fíriel and a hungover-looking Narrator*
Eledhril, annoyed, to Valacar: For a secretive, repressed loner, you sure have a lot of spare keys floating around.
Firiel: Hey, you didn't have a visit from--
Valacar: We got rid of him, no problem.
Firiel: Really?
Eledhril: Analysis. It's the wave of the future for repelling people.
Firiel: I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, so I'm just going to take your word. [To Narrator] Why don't you keep Eledhril company?
Narrator sits down at table, cradles her head in her hands. Morosely: Hey.
Eledhril: You okay, kiddo? [pause] Hair of the dog that bit you? [indicates liquor bottle]
Valacar, to Eledhril: Um, no.
Firiel sits on bed next to Valacar: I need a prescription.
Valacar: Yeah. Apparently, in addition to being banned from the wards, I'm not supposed to do anything in an official capacity.
Firiel: Uh huh. [beat] How do you feel about illegal abortions?
Valacar: What other kind is there? [looks at Narrator] Oh my god, is she--
Firiel: Too early to say. Just making contingency plans.
Narrator: You guys, I am six feet away. Can you at least stop talking about me in the third person?
Eledhril: Have you ever considered that this might be because you don't have an actual name?
Valacar: Uh, don't go there.
Firiel: She doesn't like it when you bring up authorial decisions.
Eledhril, to Narrator: See what I mean?
Narrator *mutters something unintelligible into her hands*
Valacar takes a deep breath, gets off bed: Okay, let's see. [takes textbook off shelf, leafs through it] Well, this is interesting. "Some early modern societies held the theory that female orgasm was necessary for conception. Therefore, pregnancy was taken as proof that 'legitimate' rape had not actually occurred."*
Firiel snatches textbook, stares: What?
Narrator, panicked: Is that--is that true? Did that happen to me, the--whatever it was you just said?
Firiel and Valacar: NO.
Valacar: As a physician working with the knowledge and technology of approximately the sixteenth century, I can only hope that in future generations, people will not subscribe to such ludicrous beliefs. [pause] Right? Guys?
*awkward silence*
Firiel: Why is the whole chapter on OB/GYN two pages long?
Valacar: Let's try a more contemporary source. *leafs through journal. nods* Oh, okay. I could do that. [To Narrator] We're out of soporifics, so we'd just need to get you really, really drunk.
Narrator: Uh...
Valacar: I'm addressing you in the second person. Did you notice that? [pause] Also, we might have to improvise on a few things, because I'm not sure I have the correct implements. *sets open journal down on table*
Narrator stands up, alarmed: Oh. Hell. No.
Eledhril: Oh, hey, that's the medium-sized thing I was talking about...
*This actually happened.
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Narrator: You can keep the medium-sized things! Guys, this is me saying No - En. Oh. Not happening.
Eledhril, puzzled: I thought you couldn't spell.
Narrator: Who gives a fuck? [drunken, frustrated hand gestures] Authorial decisions!
Valacar: I do want to emphasize that I meant what I said: I am not going to marry you, no matter what.
Narrator: Don't care. [points to picture] No.
Firiel: What about him? [points at Eledhril]
Eledhril: Um, I'm also right here, and saying no.
Narrator: Like it would matter! I am NOT marrying a married guy either!
Firiel: But, Narrator, dear, think of your future...
Eledhril, snorts: What future? What is this future you speak of, woman? Looked outside lately?
Valacar: Not helpful, Eledhril...
Firiel: [to Narrator] Aradir would take you off the wards. This is... [considers pictures with increasingly fascinated horror] It's - wow... [shakes self] But it could save you a lot of trouble, and it'd really be best for you if -
Narrator: No, no, NO. IT'S MY BODY I'LL DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT EVEN WORK PREGNANT IN A BACK ALLEY UNDER SIEGE, KTHXBAI KEEP-YOUR-MEDIUM-SIZED-THINGS-OFF-ME! *breathes into paper bag*
Stunned silence.
Valacar: Er, yeah, girl power! [pause] Did that just happen?
Eledhril: I mean, I heard it.
Firiel, pained: Irony is such a bitch! [To Narrator]: Fine, it's your call.
Narrator: I just want to be a real character one day. *sniffles* Not a hapless reader-reception function!
Valacar, takes shot: Amen!
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Eledhril, sotto voce: Um, did she just call herself a Mary Sue? *glances over at Narrator, who is now slumped on the bed with her face buried in a pillow* Because if she is, she's like the worst Mary Sue ever.
Narrator, muffled by pillow: Everyone else has a name! Hethlin... Nanny... Whatsherface...
Firiel, sighing, pats her shoulder: There, there.
Valacar: Well, supposedly, Mary Sues are all about private wish fulfillment. [beat] No accounting for some people, I guess. *air quotes* "Authorial decisions." *takes another shot*
Firiel, also sotto voce: Valacar, if this girl is pregnant, you are marrying her.
Valacar: No! Why should I sacrifice my autonomy for hers? I'm also a member of a societally oppressed group, you know.
Firiel: Yes, but you're still a man, and your autonomy is not predicated on your marital status or perceived "virtue." [beat] Look at her! She's from the working class; she works in the service sector; her mother is a widow; she has no recourse!
Narrator lifts her head from the pillow: Um, guys, I am still right here. And I already said I don't care if he doesn't want to marry me!
Firiel: Well, it's all true. [lowers her voice, to Valacar] What I'm saying is, she is in a very precarious position. One false move and she's completely fucked.
Valacar: *snorts* Little redundant to say that at this point, don't you think?
Firiel: Valacar!
Eledhril: Um, wow. That's a little raw, even in this context.
Valacar: Well, I mean... *As they are talking, Narrator unceremoniously gets up, walks over to Valacar, and hits him in the nose, a la Eledhril's homicide pointers talk* OW! *she knees him in the groin, hard* JESUS GOD. *he crumples to the floor*
Eledhril, impressed: Not bad, grasshopper. [to Valacar] Not all of us have a vested interest in reproducing, you know.
Narrator sits on the floor next to Valacar: I'm sorry, but I think you deserved that.
Valacar: *gasp* Yeah. Okay. *gasp*
Narrator: You weren't always this much of a jackass, you know.
Valacar: It's been a very stressful week. To say the least.
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Eledhril: You said it, man. I mean, yeah, I know Narrator-girl doesn't have a name, but what's in a name? Her character cred has to bring her one, it doesn't work the other way around.
Firiel, gives him the eye: You have a point, or are you also looking for a knee to the groin?
Eledhril, crossing legs emphatically: My point is it's been a very stressful week for us all, being the vehicles for post-narrative drama generated in the expanses of postmodern consciousness. [beat] I mean, you've seen the story sequel that spawned me, right? [raises hand] Reader-response function! I don't think there's any evidence I even existed as an after-thought in the primary story.
Firiel, looking actually uncomfortable for perhaps the first time: That's easy to say -
Eledhril, snorts: Like hell it was! Jameson sucks, and I don't mean the whiskey.
Valacar, still clutching injured gonads: If we're all just Sues, why does it have to hurt this much?
Firiel, archly: Biology's a bitch, eh?
Valacar *nod nod*: Oh yes.
Narrator: [to Valacar] You want to try the full fetal position? I think that's supposed to help. [beat] Although I'm not really sure it did. Somebody should do some research on that...
Valacar: [to Firiel] Would you mind please passing the chamber pot? I think I might have to throw up in a minute.
Eledhril: Wimp.
Valacar: So much for male solidarity! Christ, this is why we don't teach women here any damn thing, Eledhril!
Firiel: Oh shush! I only have a partial education, but that is so obviously not true. [slides pot over] There you go.
Valacar: Thanks. *Turns over; retches*
Narrator: [to Eledhril] So whose wish-fulfillment are we? I mean, if I were going to realize my fantasies in print, I'd write, like, good stuff. Like... like... I would write...
Eledhril: Can't think of anything else, can you?
Narrator, tears welling up again: Oh God. It's the illiteracy, isn't it?
Firiel, tiredly: No, I don't think so.
Eledhril, sighing: It's not like I have dreams, it's just that even in my wildest non-imaginings I never thought I'd be offing my ex-lover in actual print. Or that it would be worse than fucking with him.
Narrator: But he [points to Valacar] said you liked -
Eledhril: I mean psychologically fucking. The literal fucking with him was fine.
Valacar: Well stop fucking with me - I'm a doctor, dammit, not a loremaster! What's this all mean?
Firiel: The problem, dear, is that we're the wish-fulfillment of realists in danger from nihilism. We're just their way of dealing with the issue, since hope is a little too far for them to stretch within the bounds of pure intertextuality.
Valacar: Oh.
Eledhril, to Valacar: And I'd say, from the looks of it, it's your turn to be redemption boy.
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Valacar: I guess I can try. *rises* Ugh...
Narrator: Oh, I didn't get you that hard.
Valacar: Whatever. *pulls a piece of chalk from a drawer and walks to the wall, on which he draws a large circle* Here's where we live.
Narrator: Minas Tirith.
Valacar: But, that's just a formality...
Eledhril catches on: We're based in a mid-twentieth century fantasy epic which is itself an amalgam of philology, European mythology, Arthurian romance, and idealized pastoral Edwardian England. Which was already antiquated in its own time, and seems even more so, now--well, someone's now.
Firiel: But we're not actually in it...
Valacar: We're not in it, but we're of it, if that makes sense.
Narrator: Not really...
Valacar draws a smaller, circle, overlapping with the first: So you, my dear, are made to inhabit this world. But you're also the product of a life in the early twenty-first century...Seventh, Eighth Age? You're partly a reaction to the epic scope of the original, of a longing to know what happens to the people in the background.
Firiel: To the women.
Valacar: Yes, the women. Who are in wretchedly short supply in the original.
Narrator: Oh, is that why you guys [points to Valacar and Eledhril] are always doing it with each other?
Eledhril: That's really kind of its own lecture...
Valacar: But you're also a product of the time in which you were created. So, you are an artifact of who this girl was when she in college.
Narrator: But with many more practical skills.
Valacar: Probably. And you're also, in part, some of the people she knew at that time. *draws smaller circles* And whatever else she was reading. And the movies she watched. [pause] And Dar Williams. She listened to a ton of Dar Williams.
Narrator continues: And, um, a reaction to other stories, written by other people. Which she found irritating. Like, about girls who were amazingly beautiful, and had goofy names, and commandeered the narrative in implausible ways!
Firiel: Which is why we're all sort of aggressively ordinary, in our ways, and why we're not buddy-buddy with the Canon Characters, and why you don't even have a name.
Narrator: Huh.
Firiel: But we're also filtered through a lens of modern feminism in a post-feminist society.
Narrator: You lost me.
Firiel: Which why you get to be his [jerks a thumb at Valacar] apprentice. [pause] But you still have to wear a dress.
Narrator: What else would I wear? [To Eledhril] What about you, Ranger-boy?
Eledhril stands up: If I may. *takes chalk from Valacar. draws another circle, partially overlapping the first two* Like I said, I'm a product of reader response, and of an original story involving a minor character from the original text, but viewed through a revisionist lens of non-heteronormative orientations, and an attempt to depict homoerotic relationships realistically within the confines of an imagined society. Green Sun, and whatnot.
Valacar, remembering: Yeah, you told me about that. Sounded like a downer.
Eledhril: There's that, and there's also a reaction to other texts written by other authors featuring tropes of, like, healing sex, and homoerotic relationships that are, in their way, uncomplicated and unproblematic in context. [beat] All huge lies, btw.
Valacar: You can say that, again...
Eledhril: That's also why I really love my wife.
Narrator, skeptical: You do?
Eledhril: I do. [pause] But I also get to hang out with you guys, because the girl who's responsible for you [points to Narrator] asked if there was anyone who wanted to hook up with him [jerks thumb at Valacar]. On account of, he really needed to get laid.
Valacar, sheepish: Turned out okay.
Firiel: And then, we have these secondary existences, in the mind of anyone else who happens to read about us. *describes circles in the air with her finger*
Narrator stares at all the chalk circles: So, we're just aggregates of reactions? [beat] Like, where all the loose threads come together?
Valacar: I guess you could put it that way...
Firiel stares out the window: Hey, did you guys see that?
Eledhril scratches his head: Looks kinda like a deus ex mach--um, I mean, a giant talking eagle!
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Eagle: I come bearing good news!
Valacar: War's won?
Eledhril: We're going to wake up any moment and figure out this was all a hallucination on the brink of death?
Firiel, to Eledhril: You have a... strange... notion of 'good.'
Eledhril: Reader-response.
Narrator: Just own it - you're really depressed.
Eledhril: That, too. Anyway...
Firiel, to Eagle: What news?
Eagle: It is done!
Narrator: That's not news, that's vague!
Eledhril, muttering: Epic pronouncements always are. Fucking doors...
Narrator: Huh?
Valacar: It's a long story. [pause] Also, it involves us having sex eventually under fairly dubious circumstances, so I'm pretty sure you don't want to know.
Narrator: Good point. [pause] Hey, is that... is that Lord Faramir making out with that princess from Rohan?
Firiel: They do appear to be. Huh. [pause] Good technique.
Eledhril, watching: You know, I could get to like Gondor...
Valacar: Well, that settles it. We're all going to die.
Firiel: No, Val, this feels more Edwardian-romantic to me.
Valacar: So... we won?
Narrator: We won! [beat] Why don't I feel a lot better?
Firiel: Twenty-first century.
Eledhril: Yeah, just wait for the postmodern other shoe to drop. But... I think we did win.
Narrator: What happens now?
Firiel: Well... I think we should probably just go on about our business. We've got wards to check - I just bet somebody overturned a bed pan or pulled stitches trying to get up and have a look at that bird. Come on, Narrator - we'd better get back up to the Houses.
Narrator: I'm still drunk.
Firiel: Hm. Right. Okay, well, come with me, and you can sit in the corner and be harmlessly drunk while I try to keep patients from rupturing something.
Narrator: Okay. [To Valacar] I'm sure you'll be able to have kids again someday.
Valacar, awkward: I... do not in any way know how to respond to that.
Firiel: Narrator!
Narrator, wiggles fingers: See ya!
Eledhril: What about you?
Valacar: I'm still suspended. *sighs deeply* I guess I can stay here and count the circles.
Eledhril, considering the matter, goes and bars the door, then pulls open the curtains wide so they can see the garden and the happy semi-royal couple: Nice view. So... since the story's over and the world hasn't ended, wanna screw?
Valacar: As much as it's going to hurt, fuck yes!
finis
Source: LotR. LotR fanfic. And a whole bunch of other stuff, some of which is enumerated within the text itself.
Authors: Myself (aliana1) and Dwimordene (dwimordene_2011)
Characters: The cast of Triage, e.g. Valacar, Narrator and Fíriel from Fallen and Eledhril from Semper Fidelis. Guest appearances by Lord Aradîr (also from Fallen) and a Giant Talking Eagle.
Warnings: Deeply unfunny, potentially trigger-y subject matter (including, but not limited to, rape, abortion, sexism, homophobia, adultery, homicide and suicide) used as fodder for ironic meta-humor. Not for the easily offended-that said, if you aren’t at least a little offended by the content of this story, you might want to examine your personal values system; anyway, tongues are to be kept firmly in cheek by all. Off-the-charts snark index, with detours into deconstructive theory. Lots of swearing, some sexually suggestive dialogue. Also, Valacar being a complete jackass. (And if you even care if you’ve made it this far into the story header-which I certainly wouldn’t-major spoilers for Fallen, Triage and Semper Fidelis.)
Summary: While waiting to learn the fate of Middle-earth after the Siege, some of the most self-aware original characters in Minas Tirith tackle, among other things, patriarchy, highly explicit medical literature, authorial decision-making, Freudian psychoanalysis, what happens when you don’t have an actual name, and the reasons for their very existence…They also, on occasion, tackle one another-literally.
Note: This metafic was written entirely as a comment thread to this story post, prompted entirely by an editing remark that got really, really out of hand. As you shall see.
aliana1
…A previous draft also featured a second exchange between Eledhril and Narrator, in which he attempts to get more information from her about Valacar and the circumstances of his dismissal, but I took it out because it didn't really add anything and was unnecessary to the story. Also she probably wouldn't say anything substantive to him…
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…Poor Narrator! Here she is, trying to handle post-traumatic stress after sexual assault, and she's being interrogated by large, suicidal strangers. I'm sure in metafic land, she's very pleased to have been spared that!
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… Narrator: *pulls out dagger of her own* Damn straight!
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Eledhril, skeptically: Does she know how to use that?
Valacar: Does she look like she knows how to use it?
Eledhril: Damn, boy, don't you teach your women anything around here? What is she, twelve? That's old enough for you to give her those pointers.
Valacar *envisioning Narrator as the object of his suicide pointers talk*: Um, that would be incredibly awkward. And she's not twelve.
Eledhril: Then she should know how to use one of those. *grousing* Wouldn't have her for a daughter-in-law if she couldn't at least pin an orc at twenty paces...
Valacar: Have I mentioned that your proclivities disturb me, and that that's really saying a lot, given my generally repressed and self-deprecating state of being?
Narrator: Not to interrupt while you're talking about me in front of me, but I don't really want to know how to use this on myself, thanks.
Eledhril: Okay, fine, but whoever gave you that really should have taught you how to use it on someone else or he wasn't being responsible.
Valacar: Who did give you that, anyway?
Narrator, getting increasingly irritated: You know, you're inspiring me to think maybe using this on other people wouldn't be such a bad idea...
Eledhril *scribble scribble*: Here's my room number if you feel you want a go at it.
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Narrator *eyes Eledhril with interest*: So, you could show me how to pin an orc at twenty paces, huh?
Eledhril: Or, you know, other things. At considerably closer range.
Valacar: Okay, why don't you just give that to me, now?
Eledhril: Why? You already know where I--
Valacar: No, I mean the dagger. [To Narrator] I'll take that, and you can just go back to whatever you were doing before...
Narrator: Oh, you mean crying in the fetal position?
Eledhril: Jesus Christ. [To Valacar] If you're not going to give her a Suicide Talk, someone should at least give her the homicide version.
Valacar: Is this what passes for responsible adolescent stewardship where you come from?
Eledhril: *snorts* And I suppose you people just tell them something about birds and bees and send them on their merry way?
Valacar: *considers this* Well, that often suffices. [pause] I can think of some other things that could use some pinning at close range, on that note.
Eledhril: Can you, now?
Narrator: Um, guys, I am RIGHT HERE. [sotto voce] I suppose this is what I get for having a deviant for a mentor.
Valacar: Don't you have a fetal position to return to, or something?
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Eledhril: No, dear, it's what you get for living in a class-conscious patriarchy. But here, look... [grabs Valacar in headlock]. Eyes, up the nose, strike to throat, knee to groin if you can -
[Valacar *flail!!*]
Eledhril *shifts grip, pins an arm*: [to Valacar] Hold still, will you, you're being instructive. [to Narrator] Knee to groin, as I was saying, but believe me, we're ready for that one, so don't expect to get that until you've done something else. And if he gets close enough to you, bite and don't let go - let him tear his own face off. Got it so far?
Narrator, wide-eyed: *nod nod* Yes.
Eledhril: Good. With a dagger, it's easier - just aim for whatever isn't covered by armor, and don't try for the groin in this case. They don't just make iron undies for women in this messed up society, and we all have a vested interest in reproducing. [Pause] Okay, most of us do. [Lets Valacar go] Damn, why do I always fall for the ones who'll never have kids?
Valacar, wheezing: I wouldn't let you near my kids after that!
Narrator: [To Valacar] You don't look like you're hurt or anything. [To Eledhril] I know what you wear - remember, I'm the one who has to do all the menial labor to get it off you so he can torture you medically in the name of healing.
Eledhril: Good point. Okay, so go forth, grasshopper, and slay your enemies. Rack up a nice body count and impress your guy.
Narrator: Thanks... I think.
Valacar: You are so going to pay for this.
Eledhril: Any time you want to make that happen, you just let me know...
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Firiel walks in: Um, everything okay here?
Eledhril: Peachy. Just a little impromptu self-defense workshop.
Firiel eyes Eledhril: I see. [To Valacar] Who's this, Val? Bit of rough trade?
Eledhril glares: Rough trade?
Narrator, wrinkling her nose: Val?
Valacar: [To Firiel] This is Eledhril, and I think that technically he's way too Numenorean to qualify as "rough trade." [To Narrator, chagrined] She's the only one who's allowed to call me that.
Firiel: Hi, Eledhril. [Glances at his left hand. Then, to Valacar] Hmm...thought you'd sworn off married men.
Valacar: Yeah, well, it's a long story.
Firiel: *snorts* Considering it's you, I somehow doubt that. [Pause] As your friend and, apparently one of the few emotionally competent people left in this city, I feel justified in pointing this out.
Valacar: I hate everyone.
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Firiel: Don't exaggerate, Val, it's not becoming. Although, you could work on disliking adultery a little more.
Eledhril [to Valacar]: You probably should work on that.
Narrator: But didn't you two just - ?
Eledhril: Love the sinner, hate the sin, I always say.
Valacar: I'm fairly certain that concept postdates us.
Eledhril: Foresight - I got the linguistic version of it.
Firiel: I think Narrator should walk you back, Val.
Valacar: Because that will do wonders for both of our reputations?
Firiel: Because then you'll remove the underaged girl from this situation and I can ask all the awkward questions of your... friend... Eledhril while you're gone.
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Valacar, reluctantly: All right, Narrator, come on.
[walking]
Narrator: *grumbling* I don't think I'm underaged.
Valacar: Under the archaic guidelines formulated by our much longer-lived Numenorean forbears, I'm pretty sure you are. And at this point, what do have going for us except archaic Numenorean guidelines, strictly followed to the letter?
Narrator: At any rate, that didn't keep me from being allowed to volunteer myself for what has become a suicidal front-line military operation. [pause] Nor did it keep you from serving me alcohol, apparently.
Valacar: That's different. I'm a professional.
Narrator: Can I ask you a question? So, how, um... I mean, when it's two guys... How do you...?
Valacar: There is no way I am having this conversation with you.
Narrator: Strictly as a matter of medical interest, say. Also, the internet hasn't been invented, yet.
Valacar: Given your, hmm, position at the moment, your interest in sex is a little odd, don't you think?
Narrator glares at him murderously: Okay, wow, Captain Tactful. Need I remind you that only one of us is carrying a dagger at this moment? [pause] Val.
Valacar: *sigh* All right, well, don't say you weren't warned. [Leans over and whispers in her ear]
Narrator: Seriously?
Valacar: Wait, I'm not done... [Continues to whisper]
Narrator, caught between fascination and horror: Wow. No wonder it's illegal here.
Valacar: *deeper sigh* Here, and Uganda. Oh, and probably Alabama. [pause] C'mon, kid, let's have another drink.
Meanwhile...
Eledhril: Just so you know, I really don't appreciate that whole "rough trade" remark.
Firiel: Hey, former working girl, here. Didn't mean it in a bad way.
Eledhril: I commend you on your upward mobility.
Firiel: Thanks. I think. So, you and Val...?
Eledhril: *shrugs* Yeah. We had some...awkwardness at the beginning, but overall, not bad.
Firiel: Celebrating masculine warrior bonds in the face of death, I presume?
Eledhril: It's complicated.
Firiel: And I suppose you're one of those garden-variety closet cases who gets married in conformity with dynastic norms, and hopes of societal acceptance? Because he has a knack for finding those.
Eledhril: Like I said, it's complicated...
Firiel, interested: Do go on.
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Eledhril *squirm*: How about let's not and say we did?
Firiel: Don't tell me you're going to stand on your masculine dignity, which, by objective legal standards is in shreds at this point.
Eledhril: Well, look, I'm sure you're a reasonable human being, but I have a stereotype to uphold here: tall, dark, handsome, wounded in ways physical and mental, and - most importantly - secretive.
Firiel: You're not doing so well at the last. Just to say.
Eledhril: Don't you have patients to oversee?
Firiel: They're mostly waiting to live or die - this is M.T., we uphold sexism differently from you northerners. In any case, there's nothing I can do about that at this point.
Eledhril: Hm. We seem to be at an impasse here: my sexism and its attendant complicated relationship to homoeroticism seem to be at crossroads with your sexism and curiosity. [pause] Although, given that, I could just stand on my patriarchal rights, declare the conversation done, and tell you to please go away.
Firiel: Sorry, but no, because if you do that, I'm going to have Valacar hanging about my ward, smelling vaguely of brooding and alcohol, and I need that like I need an arrow in my eye. And since you seem big on the secrecy, you do know you're playing with fire, right? He told you about his relationship with He Who Must Not Be Named?
Eledhril *is taken aback*: With Sauron?
Firiel *headdesk*: No! [lowers voice] With his boss. Who, I might add, was the one who relieved him of duty and who probably is still looking to burn loose ends, if you know what I mean.
Eledhril: Oh. No. [to self] I'm feeling some déjà vu here...
Meanwhile, in Valacar's room:
Narrator, clutching second glass: ... so then I was all, like, help! But he was like, lots bigger, and like, I never really thought about this sort of thing happening, because, like, who the eff does? But it's really, like, weird how you think it's worse than you imagined, even though you never actually imagined it. You know?
Valacar: I'm never giving you liquor again.
Narrator *less gushy, more morose, tosses back another shot*: Nobody's going to buy me a drink ever. Except maybe Beren.
Valacar: Who?
Narrator: Oh. You know, the guy - the other guy. He's pretty cute. You'd like him.
Valacar: I... reserve comment.
Narrator, continuing on as if oblivious: He proposed to me, and I totally freaked out, and it was so awkward, and I haven't told you about this, but he might marry me anyways. That guy.
Valacar: I see.
Narrator: But I'm totally terrified it won't happen, because what if I'm pregnant right now? I mean, that can happen even on the first time right?
Valacar: The evidence would seem to tilt that way, yes... [beat] Um, listen, if you're worried, there are some ways to, ah, deal, if it turns out that you...
Narrator: Would you marry me?
Valacar: ... ... ...
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Narrator: *does another shot* I mean, it'd be great! We could, like, have separate bedrooms, and you could do, well, you know, that really gross stuff you told me about, on the side. I totally would not mind, like, as long as you kept the noise down, but we all know that you're good at that, anyway.
Valacar: Mmm, yeah. I don't think so, sweetie.
Narrator: Oh my god, you think I'm damaged goods, too, don't you? Even the gay guy thinks I'm damaged goods. *Puts her head down on the table and cries* [Muffled] Is it because I'm functionally illiterate? It is, isn't it?
Valacar: [To himself] Sweet Jesus, not this again.
Meanwhile...
Firiel: At any rate, I would say some damage control is in order.
Eledhril: Yes, probably. [pause] So, do you guys have like, a really, really discreet laundry service around here?
Firiel: Um, I guess I was thinking more at the macro level.
Eledhril: Oh, okay. [thinks] So, who's this boss guy? I could run a little recon, maybe do a little pre-emptive strike... I'm a professional, you know.
Firiel: I'm...gonna say no to that one, too.
Eledhril: Hey, I wouldn't kill him, or anything. [pause, then, in a lower voice] Unless you wanted me to. I could totally knock him off. Make it look like an accident. I've done it a billion times.
Firiel: Look, why don't you guys just try to keep each other out of trouble, whatever that entails, while I try to figure something out. We should maybe go and check on him, anyway.
Eledhril: I would still like to know about the laundry at some point.
A few minutes later...
Firiel *knocks on Valacar's door*: Hey, it's me. And your, uh, friend.
Valacar *opens door*: Oh. Uh, hey. *Firiel and Eledhril walk in*
Eledhril: Why is the eighth-grader crying?
Valacar: Uh, I think because I don't want to marry her.
Eledhril: And this came up...how?
Valacar: And she can't read. And she's drunk. [pause] Also, she thinks she might be pregnant because some crazy guy raped her in an alley. [pause] I just said that out loud, didn't I?
Narrator: *lifts her head from the table* What the fuck is wrong with you?
Eledhril: Isn't that a capital crime?
Narrator: It's not my fault I can't read!
Eledhril: No, I mean the other thing.
Valacar: I can't remember--It's either that, or she has to marry the guy. Or he has to pay a moderate fine to her dad for property damage. Depends on which wretchedly patriarchal quasi-Europe we're inhabiting at the moment, I guess.
Eledhril: Hmm. This might call for a little vigilante justice.
Narrator: What's that?
Eledhril: *holds up his index finger* Judge, jury, executioner. It's pretty cool, actually.
Firiel: Okay, that's it. No one is going outside. Like, ever again.
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Narrator: I'm going out!
Firiel: No you're not.
Narrator: I'm not going to stand around while these two [jerks thumb at Eledhril and Valacar] get it on. I mean, what he was saying -
Valacar, trying to cover: Anyway, you have patients to attend to, so you would have to leave, Firiel.
Firiel: Nice try - what did you tell her, Val?
Valacar: Nothing she couldn't have found in the Southern Dominion Journal of Medicine.
Eledhril: Which is nothing, right, since she's functionally illiterate? [pause] Right?
Valacar: Right.
Narrator, with inebriate tenacity: Wrong! You told me how you -
Firiel, leafing through a journal: Which volume, pray tell?
Valacar *uncomfortable*: I... don't remember, really.
Firiel, holds up volume 262, January 3019 edition: Because if it was this one, the images wouldn't leave much to the imagination of even illiterate minors.
Narrator, goggles at journal cover: Whoa! Seriously? I am, like, totally squicked! [hits Valacar in the arm] I thought you were kidding about that part!
Eledhril, eying Narrator's dagger: You know the homicide version of that chat, Val...?
Valacar, pained: Try it this time, and I might just let you.
Narrator, scrambling back, dagger clutched tightly: Fuck you, Val! OMG, what is with the crazy military types today? Get back!
Eledhril: Not you, kiddo...
Firiel: All right, that's it! Narrator, dear, calm down, I'm going to have you come with me - you're drunk, and you need to sleep it off. I'm going to get you doped up, cleaned up, and I'm going to perform a very thorough physical examination on you even if I have to hire someone to kill Ara- I mean, the boss - later to cover my tracks from the sexist malpractice laws. As for you two... [pause]
Eledhril and Valacar: Yes?
Firiel: Proceed as planned. Just please don't leave too big of a mess, because you know I'm going to have to clean it up!
Exuant Firiel et Narrator, stage left.
Eledhril: She usually take care of your dirty laundry?
Valacar: I only wish. Sort of. [pause] Okay, maybe not.
Eledhril: Hey, you could do worse. Is she married?
Valacar: Anyway, about that pyre reenactment...
Eledhril: No good. I'm not setting fire to the room.
Valacar: I was going to say, if perhaps homicide and self-slaughter aren't sufficiently interesting, I could get some reading done, since, as Firiel pointed out, I have this backlog since January...
Eledhril: Whatever. [spins journal around to face him] Damn. You're sure this is a medical journal?
Valacar: Top journal in its field. Not that I am in any way sympathetic to imperialism, except in a highly nostalgic fashion proper to the romanticized patriotism we imbibe with the water here, but I'll give it to Harad - their psychology and reproductive health divisions are second to none and pretty much everyone under Mordor's dominion is conforming forcibly to their clinical model.
Eledhril, flipping pages: Not much reproduction going on here that I can see, unless you have some disturbing things to tell me about what happened to your biology in the several centuries of separation from Arnor...
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Meanwhile, back in the wards...
Narrator *still drunk but coming down slightly*: Firiel, men are the worst.
Firiel *sighs*: Tell me about it. And keep drinking that coffee, dear.
Narrator: No, I mean it! They can ignore us, treat us like dirt, and then when they want real fellowship and emotional vindication, they just go off and do vile things with each other!
Firiel: Well, you're certainly not the first one to point that out. It does suck, to say the least.
Narrator: I mean, it's like, if they didn't need us around for reproductive purposes, it's like we might as well not exist!
Firiel *uncomfortable*: Um, actually, certain quarters hold that...
Narrator *gapes in horror*: Wait, do you mean that...?
Firiel *trying to change the subject quickly*: But Beren's all right, isn't he?
Narrator: Yeah. [pause] Well, he seems like a really nice guy and all, but who's to say he won't kick me to the curb once he realizes that he can't ensure the paternity of any issue our marriage might produce?
Firiel: [beat] You know, for someone who claims to be functionally illiterate, you have an awfully large vocabulary.
Narrator *shrugs*: I'm a good listener.
Aradir: *walks up* Afternoon, ladies. How's the morale doing, here in the wards?
Narrator: Well, sir, as long as you're asking-- *Firiel stomps on her foot* Ow!
Firiel: Everything's great. A-plus. Totally under control.
Aradir: Um, is she okay?
Firiel: Yep. She's totally fine. Not a care in the world.
Aradir: [beat] Is she drunk?
Firiel: Drunk? *forced laugh* No, god! Who here would possibly serve alcohol to minors?
Aradir: I can think of a few...
Meanwhile, in Valacar's room...
Valacar *sitting at the table*: ...so, yeah, peer review can just be a real bitch, you know?
Eledhril *lying on bed, staring at the ceiling, not really listening*: Oh, yeah. Sure. Tell me about it.
Valacar: Anyway, my current research involves the correlation between inadequate fingernail hygiene and grooming, and infections in the, er...rectal tract... For populations where that's an issue, you know.
Eledhril *grunt of agreement*: Yeah, now that one's a bitch.
Valacar: The problem is, I can't really find enough data to disprove the null hypothesis.
Eledhril: Really? [pause] I could probably help you out, there...
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Enter Aradir, through door
Aradir: That's an... interesting... tableau.
Valacar, flips journal over quickly: How the f- that is, how... unexpected.
Aradir: That's rather the point. [eyes Eledhril, who stares right back] It's the middle of a siege, and you're... what? Offering a complete stranger the use of your bed in the middle of the day, with all the drapes closed?
Valacar: Er...
Aradir: Little obvious, there, Val.
Valacar: It was - I... [brightly] research. Alternative medicine. [gestures to Eledhril] Injured defender, no draughts, and, as you know, I'm not allowed on the wards, so I figured, you know, I can't practice any of the accepted procedures, so therefore, do what I can since he asked... [to Eledhril, sotto voce] This would be an excellent moment to offer corroborating testimony, hint hint.
Eledhril, distracted briefly from staring: Hm? Sure. Yeah - it's this new form of research for health.
Aradir, skeptical: And it requires you to be lying in his bed?
Eledhril: It's not like we're both lying here. That'd be evidence of something.
Aradir: And so this is, what, then? And is that lipstick on that shot glass rim?
Valacar, discreetly leaning in front of Narrator's glass: Ah, it's... it's a method. A new method. In psychology. This [gestures to journal] says so. He has to be reclining, you see.
Aradir: Oh really?
Valacar: Yes. And I have to sit, ah... [lifts a single page slightly, squints] here.
Aradir: Mm hm. Then what?
Valacar: I, um, I have to... to ask him questions. About, you know, things.
Aradir, totally not buying this: Things like...?
Valacar: Er...
Eledhril: "Rings."
Valacar: What?
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: That's what comes to mind when you say 'things.' I think of rings. [To Aradir] It's the method: it's an archaeology of mental associations intended to bring to light the symbolic structure of my trauma, so that I won't off myself in a fit of angst some entries down the page. Or tomorrow.
Aradir: You're suicidal?
Eledhril, eyes go a little unfocused: "Happy."
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: No, keep going, you're doing great. Who are you?
Aradir: Who are you?
Valacar, trying to smooth things over: This is Lord Aradir. He's, um...
Aradir, glaring at Valacar: His boss.
Eledhril: "Gay."
Aradir: What?
Eledhril: You. It's what you make me think of.
Aradir goes dead white: That's - that's nonsense! What could possibly - ?
Eledhril: The fact that you obviously have his room key to get in here unasked. Also: "Val." Dead give away.
Aradir: Who are you?
Eledhril: The king's lieutenant's sister's best friend's husband. Also, very well-armed and not particularly rational at this moment. Hence, treatment. "Twenty-five," Valacar, btw - in answer to your previous word "null."
Valacar, sits up a bit straighter: Really?
Eledhril: Really. [To Aradir] Your move. Any more words?
Aradir, thinks a moment: What does the word "silent" make you think of?
Eledhril: "Departure."
Aradir: I see. [To Valacar] Well, um, carry on, then. But keep it off the wards - you're still not practicing. You are still under suspension for violation of the Code. And I'd better not find out you've been corrupting minors, either.
Eledhril: "Rectal."
Aradir: I said min-or, not min-er!
Eledhril: Oh. [beat] Hey, look - you're wearing a ring.
Aradir: Because I'm married and unavail - I mean, respectable! Unlike him, I have a wife!
Eledhril: "Beard."
Aradir: Okay, that's it - I need a drink. And since my wife isn't here, and it's been a shitty day, and beneath the veil of heteronormativity I can't help but notice that God you two are disgustingly cute together, I think I'll be taking this with me. [Snags journal] Because on further consideration, you're not to practice at all. Session closed!
Exuant Aradîr
Eledhril: Well... session closed. Back to research I guess. So... you need any experimental subjects?
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Meanwhile…
Firiel *in corridor, on phone*: Hi, dispensary? I’m calling to ask about emergency contracep- No, for another person, not that it’s any of your bus- [pause, rolls her eyes] A teenager. [pause] No, I’m not. [pause] What do you mean, parental consent? Look, buster, her dad dropped from cirrhosis when she was nine, and her mom’s in a refugee camp, most likely living under a plastic tarp and cooking over a garbage can fire. Can't you just give the kid the pills? [pause] What do you mean, her insurance wouldn’t cover it anyway? [pause] Well, same to you! [pushes end button] Crap.
Valacar's room. Valacar lies on the bed, writing, while Eledhril sits at the table, paring his fingernails with a dagger.
Eledhril, skeptical: You sure about this whole hygiene thing? Is it actually necessary?
Valacar: It's for science--we'll find out. [beat] You know, some people actually find cleanliness highly alluring. You can only coast on the unkempt, stringy-haired outdoorsman stereotype for so long.
Eledhril: Hey, if it ain't broke... Fine, but next time, you have to indulge my weird fetishes.
Valcar, interested: Such as...?
Eledhril looks around the room thoughtfully: First of all, it would be helpful if you had a medium-sized--
*Enter Fíriel and a hungover-looking Narrator*
Eledhril, annoyed, to Valacar: For a secretive, repressed loner, you sure have a lot of spare keys floating around.
Firiel: Hey, you didn't have a visit from--
Valacar: We got rid of him, no problem.
Firiel: Really?
Eledhril: Analysis. It's the wave of the future for repelling people.
Firiel: I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, so I'm just going to take your word. [To Narrator] Why don't you keep Eledhril company?
Narrator sits down at table, cradles her head in her hands. Morosely: Hey.
Eledhril: You okay, kiddo? [pause] Hair of the dog that bit you? [indicates liquor bottle]
Valacar, to Eledhril: Um, no.
Firiel sits on bed next to Valacar: I need a prescription.
Valacar: Yeah. Apparently, in addition to being banned from the wards, I'm not supposed to do anything in an official capacity.
Firiel: Uh huh. [beat] How do you feel about illegal abortions?
Valacar: What other kind is there? [looks at Narrator] Oh my god, is she--
Firiel: Too early to say. Just making contingency plans.
Narrator: You guys, I am six feet away. Can you at least stop talking about me in the third person?
Eledhril: Have you ever considered that this might be because you don't have an actual name?
Valacar: Uh, don't go there.
Firiel: She doesn't like it when you bring up authorial decisions.
Eledhril, to Narrator: See what I mean?
Narrator *mutters something unintelligible into her hands*
Valacar takes a deep breath, gets off bed: Okay, let's see. [takes textbook off shelf, leafs through it] Well, this is interesting. "Some early modern societies held the theory that female orgasm was necessary for conception. Therefore, pregnancy was taken as proof that 'legitimate' rape had not actually occurred."*
Firiel snatches textbook, stares: What?
Narrator, panicked: Is that--is that true? Did that happen to me, the--whatever it was you just said?
Firiel and Valacar: NO.
Valacar: As a physician working with the knowledge and technology of approximately the sixteenth century, I can only hope that in future generations, people will not subscribe to such ludicrous beliefs. [pause] Right? Guys?
*awkward silence*
Firiel: Why is the whole chapter on OB/GYN two pages long?
Valacar: Let's try a more contemporary source. *leafs through journal. nods* Oh, okay. I could do that. [To Narrator] We're out of soporifics, so we'd just need to get you really, really drunk.
Narrator: Uh...
Valacar: I'm addressing you in the second person. Did you notice that? [pause] Also, we might have to improvise on a few things, because I'm not sure I have the correct implements. *sets open journal down on table*
Narrator stands up, alarmed: Oh. Hell. No.
Eledhril: Oh, hey, that's the medium-sized thing I was talking about...
*This actually happened.
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Narrator: You can keep the medium-sized things! Guys, this is me saying No - En. Oh. Not happening.
Eledhril, puzzled: I thought you couldn't spell.
Narrator: Who gives a fuck? [drunken, frustrated hand gestures] Authorial decisions!
Valacar: I do want to emphasize that I meant what I said: I am not going to marry you, no matter what.
Narrator: Don't care. [points to picture] No.
Firiel: What about him? [points at Eledhril]
Eledhril: Um, I'm also right here, and saying no.
Narrator: Like it would matter! I am NOT marrying a married guy either!
Firiel: But, Narrator, dear, think of your future...
Eledhril, snorts: What future? What is this future you speak of, woman? Looked outside lately?
Valacar: Not helpful, Eledhril...
Firiel: [to Narrator] Aradir would take you off the wards. This is... [considers pictures with increasingly fascinated horror] It's - wow... [shakes self] But it could save you a lot of trouble, and it'd really be best for you if -
Narrator: No, no, NO. IT'S MY BODY I'LL DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT EVEN WORK PREGNANT IN A BACK ALLEY UNDER SIEGE, KTHXBAI KEEP-YOUR-MEDIUM-SIZED-THINGS-OFF-ME! *breathes into paper bag*
Stunned silence.
Valacar: Er, yeah, girl power! [pause] Did that just happen?
Eledhril: I mean, I heard it.
Firiel, pained: Irony is such a bitch! [To Narrator]: Fine, it's your call.
Narrator: I just want to be a real character one day. *sniffles* Not a hapless reader-reception function!
Valacar, takes shot: Amen!
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Eledhril, sotto voce: Um, did she just call herself a Mary Sue? *glances over at Narrator, who is now slumped on the bed with her face buried in a pillow* Because if she is, she's like the worst Mary Sue ever.
Narrator, muffled by pillow: Everyone else has a name! Hethlin... Nanny... Whatsherface...
Firiel, sighing, pats her shoulder: There, there.
Valacar: Well, supposedly, Mary Sues are all about private wish fulfillment. [beat] No accounting for some people, I guess. *air quotes* "Authorial decisions." *takes another shot*
Firiel, also sotto voce: Valacar, if this girl is pregnant, you are marrying her.
Valacar: No! Why should I sacrifice my autonomy for hers? I'm also a member of a societally oppressed group, you know.
Firiel: Yes, but you're still a man, and your autonomy is not predicated on your marital status or perceived "virtue." [beat] Look at her! She's from the working class; she works in the service sector; her mother is a widow; she has no recourse!
Narrator lifts her head from the pillow: Um, guys, I am still right here. And I already said I don't care if he doesn't want to marry me!
Firiel: Well, it's all true. [lowers her voice, to Valacar] What I'm saying is, she is in a very precarious position. One false move and she's completely fucked.
Valacar: *snorts* Little redundant to say that at this point, don't you think?
Firiel: Valacar!
Eledhril: Um, wow. That's a little raw, even in this context.
Valacar: Well, I mean... *As they are talking, Narrator unceremoniously gets up, walks over to Valacar, and hits him in the nose, a la Eledhril's homicide pointers talk* OW! *she knees him in the groin, hard* JESUS GOD. *he crumples to the floor*
Eledhril, impressed: Not bad, grasshopper. [to Valacar] Not all of us have a vested interest in reproducing, you know.
Narrator sits on the floor next to Valacar: I'm sorry, but I think you deserved that.
Valacar: *gasp* Yeah. Okay. *gasp*
Narrator: You weren't always this much of a jackass, you know.
Valacar: It's been a very stressful week. To say the least.
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Eledhril: You said it, man. I mean, yeah, I know Narrator-girl doesn't have a name, but what's in a name? Her character cred has to bring her one, it doesn't work the other way around.
Firiel, gives him the eye: You have a point, or are you also looking for a knee to the groin?
Eledhril, crossing legs emphatically: My point is it's been a very stressful week for us all, being the vehicles for post-narrative drama generated in the expanses of postmodern consciousness. [beat] I mean, you've seen the story sequel that spawned me, right? [raises hand] Reader-response function! I don't think there's any evidence I even existed as an after-thought in the primary story.
Firiel, looking actually uncomfortable for perhaps the first time: That's easy to say -
Eledhril, snorts: Like hell it was! Jameson sucks, and I don't mean the whiskey.
Valacar, still clutching injured gonads: If we're all just Sues, why does it have to hurt this much?
Firiel, archly: Biology's a bitch, eh?
Valacar *nod nod*: Oh yes.
Narrator: [to Valacar] You want to try the full fetal position? I think that's supposed to help. [beat] Although I'm not really sure it did. Somebody should do some research on that...
Valacar: [to Firiel] Would you mind please passing the chamber pot? I think I might have to throw up in a minute.
Eledhril: Wimp.
Valacar: So much for male solidarity! Christ, this is why we don't teach women here any damn thing, Eledhril!
Firiel: Oh shush! I only have a partial education, but that is so obviously not true. [slides pot over] There you go.
Valacar: Thanks. *Turns over; retches*
Narrator: [to Eledhril] So whose wish-fulfillment are we? I mean, if I were going to realize my fantasies in print, I'd write, like, good stuff. Like... like... I would write...
Eledhril: Can't think of anything else, can you?
Narrator, tears welling up again: Oh God. It's the illiteracy, isn't it?
Firiel, tiredly: No, I don't think so.
Eledhril, sighing: It's not like I have dreams, it's just that even in my wildest non-imaginings I never thought I'd be offing my ex-lover in actual print. Or that it would be worse than fucking with him.
Narrator: But he [points to Valacar] said you liked -
Eledhril: I mean psychologically fucking. The literal fucking with him was fine.
Valacar: Well stop fucking with me - I'm a doctor, dammit, not a loremaster! What's this all mean?
Firiel: The problem, dear, is that we're the wish-fulfillment of realists in danger from nihilism. We're just their way of dealing with the issue, since hope is a little too far for them to stretch within the bounds of pure intertextuality.
Valacar: Oh.
Eledhril, to Valacar: And I'd say, from the looks of it, it's your turn to be redemption boy.
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Valacar: I guess I can try. *rises* Ugh...
Narrator: Oh, I didn't get you that hard.
Valacar: Whatever. *pulls a piece of chalk from a drawer and walks to the wall, on which he draws a large circle* Here's where we live.
Narrator: Minas Tirith.
Valacar: But, that's just a formality...
Eledhril catches on: We're based in a mid-twentieth century fantasy epic which is itself an amalgam of philology, European mythology, Arthurian romance, and idealized pastoral Edwardian England. Which was already antiquated in its own time, and seems even more so, now--well, someone's now.
Firiel: But we're not actually in it...
Valacar: We're not in it, but we're of it, if that makes sense.
Narrator: Not really...
Valacar draws a smaller, circle, overlapping with the first: So you, my dear, are made to inhabit this world. But you're also the product of a life in the early twenty-first century...Seventh, Eighth Age? You're partly a reaction to the epic scope of the original, of a longing to know what happens to the people in the background.
Firiel: To the women.
Valacar: Yes, the women. Who are in wretchedly short supply in the original.
Narrator: Oh, is that why you guys [points to Valacar and Eledhril] are always doing it with each other?
Eledhril: That's really kind of its own lecture...
Valacar: But you're also a product of the time in which you were created. So, you are an artifact of who this girl was when she in college.
Narrator: But with many more practical skills.
Valacar: Probably. And you're also, in part, some of the people she knew at that time. *draws smaller circles* And whatever else she was reading. And the movies she watched. [pause] And Dar Williams. She listened to a ton of Dar Williams.
Narrator continues: And, um, a reaction to other stories, written by other people. Which she found irritating. Like, about girls who were amazingly beautiful, and had goofy names, and commandeered the narrative in implausible ways!
Firiel: Which is why we're all sort of aggressively ordinary, in our ways, and why we're not buddy-buddy with the Canon Characters, and why you don't even have a name.
Narrator: Huh.
Firiel: But we're also filtered through a lens of modern feminism in a post-feminist society.
Narrator: You lost me.
Firiel: Which why you get to be his [jerks a thumb at Valacar] apprentice. [pause] But you still have to wear a dress.
Narrator: What else would I wear? [To Eledhril] What about you, Ranger-boy?
Eledhril stands up: If I may. *takes chalk from Valacar. draws another circle, partially overlapping the first two* Like I said, I'm a product of reader response, and of an original story involving a minor character from the original text, but viewed through a revisionist lens of non-heteronormative orientations, and an attempt to depict homoerotic relationships realistically within the confines of an imagined society. Green Sun, and whatnot.
Valacar, remembering: Yeah, you told me about that. Sounded like a downer.
Eledhril: There's that, and there's also a reaction to other texts written by other authors featuring tropes of, like, healing sex, and homoerotic relationships that are, in their way, uncomplicated and unproblematic in context. [beat] All huge lies, btw.
Valacar: You can say that, again...
Eledhril: That's also why I really love my wife.
Narrator, skeptical: You do?
Eledhril: I do. [pause] But I also get to hang out with you guys, because the girl who's responsible for you [points to Narrator] asked if there was anyone who wanted to hook up with him [jerks thumb at Valacar]. On account of, he really needed to get laid.
Valacar, sheepish: Turned out okay.
Firiel: And then, we have these secondary existences, in the mind of anyone else who happens to read about us. *describes circles in the air with her finger*
Narrator stares at all the chalk circles: So, we're just aggregates of reactions? [beat] Like, where all the loose threads come together?
Valacar: I guess you could put it that way...
Firiel stares out the window: Hey, did you guys see that?
Eledhril scratches his head: Looks kinda like a deus ex mach--um, I mean, a giant talking eagle!
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Eagle: I come bearing good news!
Valacar: War's won?
Eledhril: We're going to wake up any moment and figure out this was all a hallucination on the brink of death?
Firiel, to Eledhril: You have a... strange... notion of 'good.'
Eledhril: Reader-response.
Narrator: Just own it - you're really depressed.
Eledhril: That, too. Anyway...
Firiel, to Eagle: What news?
Eagle: It is done!
Narrator: That's not news, that's vague!
Eledhril, muttering: Epic pronouncements always are. Fucking doors...
Narrator: Huh?
Valacar: It's a long story. [pause] Also, it involves us having sex eventually under fairly dubious circumstances, so I'm pretty sure you don't want to know.
Narrator: Good point. [pause] Hey, is that... is that Lord Faramir making out with that princess from Rohan?
Firiel: They do appear to be. Huh. [pause] Good technique.
Eledhril, watching: You know, I could get to like Gondor...
Valacar: Well, that settles it. We're all going to die.
Firiel: No, Val, this feels more Edwardian-romantic to me.
Valacar: So... we won?
Narrator: We won! [beat] Why don't I feel a lot better?
Firiel: Twenty-first century.
Eledhril: Yeah, just wait for the postmodern other shoe to drop. But... I think we did win.
Narrator: What happens now?
Firiel: Well... I think we should probably just go on about our business. We've got wards to check - I just bet somebody overturned a bed pan or pulled stitches trying to get up and have a look at that bird. Come on, Narrator - we'd better get back up to the Houses.
Narrator: I'm still drunk.
Firiel: Hm. Right. Okay, well, come with me, and you can sit in the corner and be harmlessly drunk while I try to keep patients from rupturing something.
Narrator: Okay. [To Valacar] I'm sure you'll be able to have kids again someday.
Valacar, awkward: I... do not in any way know how to respond to that.
Firiel: Narrator!
Narrator, wiggles fingers: See ya!
Eledhril: What about you?
Valacar: I'm still suspended. *sighs deeply* I guess I can stay here and count the circles.
Eledhril, considering the matter, goes and bars the door, then pulls open the curtains wide so they can see the garden and the happy semi-royal couple: Nice view. So... since the story's over and the world hasn't ended, wanna screw?
Valacar: As much as it's going to hurt, fuck yes!
finis