All aboard
Here, friends, have a very meta little ficlet.
Husband and I plan on going on a little trip this week. This story has been read and ratified by him. He says it's very accurate. LOL
Words: 1381
Characters: I, husband, ALL the blorbos
Prompt: Road Trip
Warnings: Meta, first person
I wake up 10 minutes before my alarm, startled and confused because Finrod Felagund is perched on my headrest like a cat, strumming his harp.
Attracted by the disjointed tune, Maglor starts singing “Morning has broken” at the top of his lungs before his mother comes to drag him away by the braid. Nerdanel has, of course, been awake for hours already, making sure her progeny is ready to travel.
Brushed and braided, the infamous sons of Fëanor are scrubbed clean and wearing holes into my carpet by pacing through the room impatiently.
My husband groans and swats away Asfaloth’s attempts at rousing him.
“Shower?” he asks groggily and I acquiesce, all but running to the bathroom and slamming the door behind me. Not for a second do I believe that locks and bolts would keep my imaginary guests from intruding, but I hope that they’ll respect my privacy, nonetheless.
“You’ll take us, right?” Ulmo asks from the warm spray chasing away my fatigue. “We are good. We won’t make any trouble.”
“You,” I reply sharply, “can make it there on your own. There is plenty of water and air where we go!”
Sniffing, indignant and clearly vexed, he withdraws.
Thus refreshed, I exit my bubble of relative peace to do a quick headcount that quickly devolves into a pounding headache instead.
“We’re ready!” Elrond promises, waving a hand at those under his care. So far, so good, I think—with the exception of Glorfindel insisting on bringing his horse, Imladris seems to have its shit together.
Sandwiches have been packed and his infamous mother-in-law is sitting on a huge crate that is suspiciously labelled “travel provisions”.
“Is there a weight limit? How much space do you have in your trunk?” Nerdanel asks in a tense voice. “My husband, bless his heart, is loath to leave his forging equipment behind. Moreover, the boys…”
I cock a dubitative eyebrow at her. Her sons are hardly children anymore, but I can almost guess how their proclivities would interfere with an extensive road trip.
I drive an SUV—a big, boxy, black car that at least theoretically should allow for some follies.
“Nelyo won’t leave without Fingon…” she adds sheepishly. “Also…Tyelko’s dog, Káno’s instruments…at least Moryo and Curvo have agreed to share a suitcase for their books.”
Knowing that it’s a vain endeavour, I don’t even ask if all of this is strictly necessary.
I love them just the way they are; there is nothing wrong with them or with me.
I repeat those words like a mantra as I stare blankly at Nerdanel’s tired face, sporting an ever so slightly forced-looking smile—the encouraging mien of a mother knowing full well that the worst is yet to come.
Giving up on that part of my inescapable company, I shiver and turn to darkness and evil personified.
“Ready!” Mairon assures me, brandishing his checklist triumphantly. He is dressed soberly and might be allowed to be seen by others—his companions…not so much.
Melkor, inspired by too much reality TV, has donned oversized sunglasses and a silk turban to keep his hair from frizzing in the constant stream of cold air blowing out of the AC, while Gothmog is wearing a floppy straw hat that does nothing to obscure his identity. The shiny horns and the aura of pure flame are wont to give him away and I am beyond thankful that nobody else can see him.
That, as well, is a problem for a later moment, I decide and turn to the dwarven faction to explain as gently as possible that pots, pans, flutes, and weapons are less than ideal hand luggage.
As expected, this goes over like a lead balloon.
Moreover, Thranduil has decided that he and his people will join us after all—nevertheless, he demands to be allowed to travel in the passenger seat, for privacy and to be as far away from the dwarves as possible in a restricted and closed space, and my husband shakes his head vehemently.
“I won’t have one of them on my lap,” he declares cuttingly. “Stuff them all in the trunk, with their tools and toys.”
Uproar. Outrage. Screaming in various languages. Curses upon my in-laws down to the first ancestor to have ever walked this earth—I merely smirk.
“Of course,” someone whines, “nobody wants to take me.”
Whirling around, I glimpse Túrin, his lower lip sticking out a little, his arms crossed above his chest petulantly.
The humans, I think frantically, and my mind goes blank.
“We’re ready to travel light,” Boromir promises, securing his bedroll and his pack as we speak and giving me an encouraging smile. “Gondor can set out.”
“I don’t trust the iron horse!” Éomer mutters, evidently much less inclined to just throw himself into my car without having checked the mysterious vehicle vigorously for loose shoes and bad teeth.
By this time, the Valar—immortal and indestructible as they are—have agreed that they’d survey the lay of the land from the roof of my trusty metal steed rather than be confined with a bunch of unruly children.
The thought of having to wipe away incessant rain as well as bird droppings throughout the whole voyage dismays me, but I take every win I can get and don’t demure.
“The good boy can come sit with me,” my husband declares, thankfully mollified by my obvious distress, at the sight of Huan wagging his tail eagerly.
“You’ll have to take Tyelko as well—the tall blonde with the hunting knives—and, come to think of it, how about balancing Curufin on your other leg?” I jump on that tiny concession eagerly, my eyes pleading and my lips quivering pitifully.
“Will they sing the whole time?” he asks sharply and I shrug, unwilling to admit that—most probably—they will indeed.
We start the elaborate game of Blorbo-Tetris, doing our best to separate those who love each other too well or too little in an attempt to preemptively extinguish potential fires that might otherwise ruin the start of our trip.
“At least…” he starts and then retreats as Thingol and Melian, followed by their retinue, draw up to the car, eyes narrowed in disdain. They do not appreciate the fact that they had almost been left behind—again.
“Mablung,” my husband—love of my life, light of my days—sniggers, much to the dismay of the dignified elf who is not used to being hailed in so derisive a fashion.
My car now feels so full that I have no doubt it is positively bulging, but we’ve finally made it onto the road.
My beloved spouse keeps his hand firmly clasped above the button that would turn the radio on, enduring the moaning and complaining with perfect equanimity.
The smell of various, impossibly fragrant foodstuffs being unpacked and the sound of enthusiastic chewing start to pervade the air—I open a window and shoot an apologetic look at my most cherished companion.
Discordant humming and vocalizing are interrupted periodically by raucous laughter and the odd brawl in the backseat; I throw myself onto the highway, wishing it was oncoming traffic.
All the while, my phone keeps chiming softly—Discord is letting me know that my friends are alive and well, and I smile through the agonizing migraine as discussions of wedding customs arise and are hotly debated.
Many of my obstinate and obnoxious travel companions are legacies from those people across the world I love so dearly and I owe it to them not to toss their cherished characters into the nearest gas station bin, no matter how insane they’ll eventually drive me.
At least, thank Eru the One, everyone is still dressed and decent and no deadly weapons have been deployed or old grudges dredged up to be settled within this merely leased vehicle—it would be quite a feat to explain away the huge bloodstains and deep gouges to my annoying garage.
A warm, comforting hand finds mine and I avert my eyes from the road for a millisecond to grin lopsidedly at my husband.
“Did you absolutely have to bring all of them?” he asks under his breath.
My shoulders twitch as I sigh shudderingly. “I love them,” I confess, “and wherever I go, they go.”
@fellowshipofthefics have a silly one!
Lots of love from me, I hope this little slice of my life could amuse you!
