Chapter Twenty: If Elves were meant to fly
“The learned are seldom pretty fellows, and in many cases their appearance tends to discourage a love of study in the young.” – H. L. Mencken (1880-1956)
Kimberly Swanson adjusted her cravat and checked that the seams on her stockings were straight, fingers flitting over the crisp lines of her Pan Am uniform proudly. She had been on this London to New York Connector route since it had been inaugurated in 1947, and she really didn’t think that there was anything she hadn’t seen in those three years. She plastered on her best smile, ducking through the doorframe which marked her personal territory at the back of the plane and marched smartly up the center aisle, carrying a basket of mints, pausing to put a few of the men’s hats in the overhead rack.
Port row ten were certainly eye-catchers, no matter how you looked at it. The dark-haired one was talking quickly and quietly to his companion, bright and intelligent eyes darting up to meet hers for just a moment. Her breath caught in her throat – he was so handsome! She would have expected a Scandinavian from the sound of his speech, but this guy looked totally American, with that rugged, competent and independent sort of air that you got from the men west of Chicago. Oooo, she had a weakness for cowboys! You just didn’t see many of them on trans-Atlantic flights. She felt her smile ratchet up another notch, and then she turned her attention to the man sitting next to him.
Uh-oh, she knew that body language. Nervous flyer. He was hunched into himself, hands clenched on the arms of the seat until white knuckles showed, hat pulled down clear over his ears, and she couldn’t even see his face. She took a quick breath and leaned closer, “Sir, may I take your hat please? You’ll be more comfortable on the flight. You can have it back when we stop to refuel if you’d like to stretch your legs.” He shook his head tightly, breathing increasing, as his gaze remained focused out the window.
“We’re fine, Miss, thank you,” said the cute one, flashing her a blinding grin before returning to his efforts to reassure the nervous one.
“Let me know if I can get you anything,” she told them, continuing with her duties. They’d be closing the door in a couple of minutes, and she had to have the cabin ready.
“This is not natural...this is wrong,” Legolas ground out between clenched teeth.
Aragorn was at a loss as to what he could tell the Elf. “It’s really not bad at all. I’ve flown in the air many times now. Marvin flies a much smaller plane, and he can do the most amazing things. It’s like being on the back of a giant Eagle. We can turn and roll and skip across the sky like a feather in a gale. I really like it, actually.”
“And we will fly over the water?” Legolas questioned, though he must have already known the answer.
“Quickly too! We will be in New York by tomorrow. It is a very great distance, mellon nin. It took me many days by ship.”
“I would rather travel on a ship,” the Elf decided. “I do not like this metal room, with all the metal bits and the smell of noxious fumes. I do not like the feeling of being restrained here as if for torture.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Aragorn said, hoping it would come true. If only he’d thought this out more fully when the Professor had offered to pay for the airplane tickets. Tolkien had given them quite a bit of English money, saying that he expected to make generous profit from the books of their adventures, and that he owed Legolas more than he could possibly repay. Perhaps if he’d brought a branch with them, or a small plant in a pot – that would be something that Legolas could have concentrated himself on. Legolas could spend hours studying a single leaf, composing a song to its symmetry and loveliness. The Elf was clearly frightened, and this was the same creature who would blithely face down hordes of Orcs or Goblins without a trace of anger to mar the perfection of his actions.
He was trying to think of something more reassuring to say when the door was closed. Legolas noticed instantly, hearing the mechanism locking it, and in nearly the same moment the first engine on the wing coughed to life, turning slowly and expelling a great cloud of black smoke. “Ayiiee!” Legolas shouted, startling everyone on the plane. “It is broken! The noise! It screams in pain!”
“No, no, no,” Aragorn told him, finding the muscles of his friend’s arm clenched. “We will be fine! This is all normal. The engines are merely starting. I know it’s loud, but....” His words were drowned by the racket as two more engines started, and the plane shuddered.
Legolas cupped his hands over his ears, dislodging the hat which had hidden the beautiful pale strands of his hair, hunching forward as if he could fit underneath the cramped seat. He was speaking quickly, panicked Elvish words falling unheard from his white lips, and Aragorn’s trained nose caught a whiff of an unfamiliar smell from the Elf’s body – the tang of fear. The Ranger had woefully underestimated his friend’s aversion to this experience. He wrapped his arms tightly around Legolas, trying to hold him together. The fourth engine started with a loud backfire, and the pitch changed as the plane started to taxi.
Screaming in actual pain, Legolas came completely apart, despite everything Aragorn could possibly do. Clawing loose from the seatbelt and shrieking as if his mind had left him, the Elf scratched and punched his way free, scrambling into the aisle, eyes wild and dodging the Ranger’s efforts to catch him. The engines became even louder as the aircraft started across the airfield, but Legolas’ screams were louder yet. He threw himself at the closed door, climbing over terrified passengers who were equally astonished by the Elf’s appearance as much as by his obvious panic attack. Legolas tore at the door blindly, fingernails breaking under the strain, blood smearing the smooth metal and plastic.
Kimberly was out of her jump seat as soon as the passenger had started screaming, but her pounding on the cockpit door went unanswered for several moments. “Captain!” She screamed, trying to be heard over the incredible commotion. The door gave suddenly under her fists and she blurted something even she didn’t understand before trying to stop the completely unhinged passenger with the flying blond hair.
She could hear the crew calling an emergency over the radio as the good-looking man from row ten tried to restrain his companion. The panicked blond was clearly stronger even than the cowboy, but was not trying to hurt him even while making every effort to get the hatch open. The cowboy finally seemed to get a grip on him, pulling his arms down from behind, and now other passengers were rising to assist. Kimberly realized that she’d yanked off one of her heels, ready to brain the out-of-control passengers if she had too – the air hostess’ defense of last resort.
The engines wound down as the plane stopped taxiing, and the decrease in noise seemed to calm the blond man slightly. She caught a glimpse of his terrified eyes, and he seemed to be regaining some semblance of control as he shivered within the embrace of his companion. “What happened?” the co-pilot asked, leaning through the cockpit door and clearly unable to guess the situation on his own.
She started to tell him when the blond man finally got a grip on the hatch’s emergency handle, and the door suddenly unlatched, popping out within its frame with a rush of cool air and a burst of sound from the active airfield around them. A woman screamed and the terrified passenger shrugged off his companion in one smooth motion, and dropped out the narrow opening onto the taxiway.
“Legolas!” yelled the cowboy, then he shoved the door further open and dropped from sight as well.
“Emergency propeller stop!” the co-pilot was calling into the cockpit, but it was already too late.
“They made it!” one of the passengers said loudly, and Kimberly all but climbed over his lap in time to see the blond man reach the shrubbery at the edge of the airfield, moving amazingly swiftly. She could see the American running after him, limping as he moved, darting off the edge of the runway mere moments before a BOAC plane touched down in a roar of noise. The co-pilot got the door secured and the engines began to turn again, as they taxied back to the terminal. There was really no procedure for this sort of incident in all the annals of Pan Am air travel. Kimberly could already see the interesting entry she was going to make in her journal.
Aragorn had to track Legolas to the crumbling wall of an abandoned building at the far edge of the airport, probably something left from the war, a desolate area of industrial clutter and rusting metal. He finally found the Elf huddled in the questionable protection of the dirty bricks, arms wrapped over his head, sobbing. It nearly broke the Ranger’s heart to see his companion in this state. He made enough noise to announce his presence, and slowly limped to Legolas’ side, crouching down himself after a quick glance around to be sure they were safe for the moment. No one was close enough to bother them for some time.
He gently reached out to touch the Elf’s curved back, feeling the grief in every trembling muscle. “You are injured,” Legolas said softly, his voice hoarse and husky.
“That was a long drop to the ground, and an unforgiving surface,” Aragorn explained. “I do not think one is meant to disembark the plane in that manner.”
His tiny attempt at humor was lost. “I am so ashamed,” Legolas finally said, still hiding his head. “I...I lost control of myself. I have never felt such panic in my life.”
“Hard to believe,” Aragorn decided, “especially considering some of the things that you’ve seen in your nearly countless years, my friend.” He took the opportunity to gather the Elf into his arms, stroking the quivering muscles and speaking soothing words. “It is my fault for trying to rush you into something you did not understand, mellon nin.”
“I understand it,” Legolas whispered. “I have seen them in the sky. Yet my mind had no control over my fear. I was as the basest animal.” He lifted his face slowly at Aragorn’s urging, and the Ranger immediately noticed the trickle of blood drying on the fair skin below the Elf’s ear.
“You are injured as well!” Aragorn said, frightened. “Is your hearing damaged?”
“A little, I’m afraid. It will heal. The pitch and shriek of that sound – it was as though a burning brand had been poked into my ears.”
“I’m so sorry,” Aragorn said honestly. “Love...I had no idea! This is my fault! I did not think about your special considerations. I’m afraid I’ve grown too easy in my mind living with only Men about me these months. Can you forgive me?”
Legolas swiped angrily at the dampness still on his cheeks and jammed his lips against Aragorn’s almost fiercely. He kissed him several times, with the sharp tang of the Elf’s blood on his tongue. “The apologies are mine,” he finally mumbled. “I did not know what I was doing.”
They huddled together for some time, and the trembling subsided. “You have been through so much,” Aragorn said, mostly to himself. “The world of Men is not good enough for you, my brother Elf. You suffer for only being what you are. We must get you home.”
“We should perhaps contact Colin again, and see if we can make other arrangements to get to America,” Legolas offered softly.
“Indeed. He’ll be surprised to hear from us again so soon.”
“Not surprised in a good way,” Legolas agreed. “I have lost the hat he gave me.”
“I don’t think he’d going to care about the hat, Prince.”
“It was a good hat, Ranger. Not that you would know such things.” Trembling fingers drew Aragorn close for another kiss.
Kimberly Swanson adjusted her cravat and checked that the seams on her stockings were straight, fingers flitting over the crisp lines of her Pan Am uniform proudly. She had been on this London to New York Connector route since it had been inaugurated in 1947, and she really didn’t think that there was anything she hadn’t seen in those three years. She plastered on her best smile, ducking through the doorframe which marked her personal territory at the back of the plane and marched smartly up the center aisle, carrying a basket of mints, pausing to put a few of the men’s hats in the overhead rack.
Port row ten were certainly eye-catchers, no matter how you looked at it. The dark-haired one was talking quickly and quietly to his companion, bright and intelligent eyes darting up to meet hers for just a moment. Her breath caught in her throat – he was so handsome! She would have expected a Scandinavian from the sound of his speech, but this guy looked totally American, with that rugged, competent and independent sort of air that you got from the men west of Chicago. Oooo, she had a weakness for cowboys! You just didn’t see many of them on trans-Atlantic flights. She felt her smile ratchet up another notch, and then she turned her attention to the man sitting next to him.
Uh-oh, she knew that body language. Nervous flyer. He was hunched into himself, hands clenched on the arms of the seat until white knuckles showed, hat pulled down clear over his ears, and she couldn’t even see his face. She took a quick breath and leaned closer, “Sir, may I take your hat please? You’ll be more comfortable on the flight. You can have it back when we stop to refuel if you’d like to stretch your legs.” He shook his head tightly, breathing increasing, as his gaze remained focused out the window.
“We’re fine, Miss, thank you,” said the cute one, flashing her a blinding grin before returning to his efforts to reassure the nervous one.
“Let me know if I can get you anything,” she told them, continuing with her duties. They’d be closing the door in a couple of minutes, and she had to have the cabin ready.
“This is not natural...this is wrong,” Legolas ground out between clenched teeth.
Aragorn was at a loss as to what he could tell the Elf. “It’s really not bad at all. I’ve flown in the air many times now. Marvin flies a much smaller plane, and he can do the most amazing things. It’s like being on the back of a giant Eagle. We can turn and roll and skip across the sky like a feather in a gale. I really like it, actually.”
“And we will fly over the water?” Legolas questioned, though he must have already known the answer.
“Quickly too! We will be in New York by tomorrow. It is a very great distance, mellon nin. It took me many days by ship.”
“I would rather travel on a ship,” the Elf decided. “I do not like this metal room, with all the metal bits and the smell of noxious fumes. I do not like the feeling of being restrained here as if for torture.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Aragorn said, hoping it would come true. If only he’d thought this out more fully when the Professor had offered to pay for the airplane tickets. Tolkien had given them quite a bit of English money, saying that he expected to make generous profit from the books of their adventures, and that he owed Legolas more than he could possibly repay. Perhaps if he’d brought a branch with them, or a small plant in a pot – that would be something that Legolas could have concentrated himself on. Legolas could spend hours studying a single leaf, composing a song to its symmetry and loveliness. The Elf was clearly frightened, and this was the same creature who would blithely face down hordes of Orcs or Goblins without a trace of anger to mar the perfection of his actions.
He was trying to think of something more reassuring to say when the door was closed. Legolas noticed instantly, hearing the mechanism locking it, and in nearly the same moment the first engine on the wing coughed to life, turning slowly and expelling a great cloud of black smoke. “Ayiiee!” Legolas shouted, startling everyone on the plane. “It is broken! The noise! It screams in pain!”
“No, no, no,” Aragorn told him, finding the muscles of his friend’s arm clenched. “We will be fine! This is all normal. The engines are merely starting. I know it’s loud, but....” His words were drowned by the racket as two more engines started, and the plane shuddered.
Legolas cupped his hands over his ears, dislodging the hat which had hidden the beautiful pale strands of his hair, hunching forward as if he could fit underneath the cramped seat. He was speaking quickly, panicked Elvish words falling unheard from his white lips, and Aragorn’s trained nose caught a whiff of an unfamiliar smell from the Elf’s body – the tang of fear. The Ranger had woefully underestimated his friend’s aversion to this experience. He wrapped his arms tightly around Legolas, trying to hold him together. The fourth engine started with a loud backfire, and the pitch changed as the plane started to taxi.
Screaming in actual pain, Legolas came completely apart, despite everything Aragorn could possibly do. Clawing loose from the seatbelt and shrieking as if his mind had left him, the Elf scratched and punched his way free, scrambling into the aisle, eyes wild and dodging the Ranger’s efforts to catch him. The engines became even louder as the aircraft started across the airfield, but Legolas’ screams were louder yet. He threw himself at the closed door, climbing over terrified passengers who were equally astonished by the Elf’s appearance as much as by his obvious panic attack. Legolas tore at the door blindly, fingernails breaking under the strain, blood smearing the smooth metal and plastic.
Kimberly was out of her jump seat as soon as the passenger had started screaming, but her pounding on the cockpit door went unanswered for several moments. “Captain!” She screamed, trying to be heard over the incredible commotion. The door gave suddenly under her fists and she blurted something even she didn’t understand before trying to stop the completely unhinged passenger with the flying blond hair.
She could hear the crew calling an emergency over the radio as the good-looking man from row ten tried to restrain his companion. The panicked blond was clearly stronger even than the cowboy, but was not trying to hurt him even while making every effort to get the hatch open. The cowboy finally seemed to get a grip on him, pulling his arms down from behind, and now other passengers were rising to assist. Kimberly realized that she’d yanked off one of her heels, ready to brain the out-of-control passengers if she had too – the air hostess’ defense of last resort.
The engines wound down as the plane stopped taxiing, and the decrease in noise seemed to calm the blond man slightly. She caught a glimpse of his terrified eyes, and he seemed to be regaining some semblance of control as he shivered within the embrace of his companion. “What happened?” the co-pilot asked, leaning through the cockpit door and clearly unable to guess the situation on his own.
She started to tell him when the blond man finally got a grip on the hatch’s emergency handle, and the door suddenly unlatched, popping out within its frame with a rush of cool air and a burst of sound from the active airfield around them. A woman screamed and the terrified passenger shrugged off his companion in one smooth motion, and dropped out the narrow opening onto the taxiway.
“Legolas!” yelled the cowboy, then he shoved the door further open and dropped from sight as well.
“Emergency propeller stop!” the co-pilot was calling into the cockpit, but it was already too late.
“They made it!” one of the passengers said loudly, and Kimberly all but climbed over his lap in time to see the blond man reach the shrubbery at the edge of the airfield, moving amazingly swiftly. She could see the American running after him, limping as he moved, darting off the edge of the runway mere moments before a BOAC plane touched down in a roar of noise. The co-pilot got the door secured and the engines began to turn again, as they taxied back to the terminal. There was really no procedure for this sort of incident in all the annals of Pan Am air travel. Kimberly could already see the interesting entry she was going to make in her journal.
Aragorn had to track Legolas to the crumbling wall of an abandoned building at the far edge of the airport, probably something left from the war, a desolate area of industrial clutter and rusting metal. He finally found the Elf huddled in the questionable protection of the dirty bricks, arms wrapped over his head, sobbing. It nearly broke the Ranger’s heart to see his companion in this state. He made enough noise to announce his presence, and slowly limped to Legolas’ side, crouching down himself after a quick glance around to be sure they were safe for the moment. No one was close enough to bother them for some time.
He gently reached out to touch the Elf’s curved back, feeling the grief in every trembling muscle. “You are injured,” Legolas said softly, his voice hoarse and husky.
“That was a long drop to the ground, and an unforgiving surface,” Aragorn explained. “I do not think one is meant to disembark the plane in that manner.”
His tiny attempt at humor was lost. “I am so ashamed,” Legolas finally said, still hiding his head. “I...I lost control of myself. I have never felt such panic in my life.”
“Hard to believe,” Aragorn decided, “especially considering some of the things that you’ve seen in your nearly countless years, my friend.” He took the opportunity to gather the Elf into his arms, stroking the quivering muscles and speaking soothing words. “It is my fault for trying to rush you into something you did not understand, mellon nin.”
“I understand it,” Legolas whispered. “I have seen them in the sky. Yet my mind had no control over my fear. I was as the basest animal.” He lifted his face slowly at Aragorn’s urging, and the Ranger immediately noticed the trickle of blood drying on the fair skin below the Elf’s ear.
“You are injured as well!” Aragorn said, frightened. “Is your hearing damaged?”
“A little, I’m afraid. It will heal. The pitch and shriek of that sound – it was as though a burning brand had been poked into my ears.”
“I’m so sorry,” Aragorn said honestly. “Love...I had no idea! This is my fault! I did not think about your special considerations. I’m afraid I’ve grown too easy in my mind living with only Men about me these months. Can you forgive me?”
Legolas swiped angrily at the dampness still on his cheeks and jammed his lips against Aragorn’s almost fiercely. He kissed him several times, with the sharp tang of the Elf’s blood on his tongue. “The apologies are mine,” he finally mumbled. “I did not know what I was doing.”
They huddled together for some time, and the trembling subsided. “You have been through so much,” Aragorn said, mostly to himself. “The world of Men is not good enough for you, my brother Elf. You suffer for only being what you are. We must get you home.”
“We should perhaps contact Colin again, and see if we can make other arrangements to get to America,” Legolas offered softly.
“Indeed. He’ll be surprised to hear from us again so soon.”
“Not surprised in a good way,” Legolas agreed. “I have lost the hat he gave me.”
“I don’t think he’d going to care about the hat, Prince.”
“It was a good hat, Ranger. Not that you would know such things.” Trembling fingers drew Aragorn close for another kiss.
Subtitles
- Chapter One: The Leap
- Chapter Two: Landing on your Feet
- Chapter Three: All the wild Things
- Chapter Four: Funny Paper Heroes
- Chapter Five: Caught
- Chapter Six: Blitz
- Chapter Seven: Hitting the Road
- Chapter Eight: Being Wrong
- Chapter Nine: Assumptions
- Chapter Ten: Coffee and Hot Cross Buns
- Chapter Eleven: Fate of the Brave
- Chapter Twelve: The Forest for the Brave
- Chapter Thirteen: Arrow in the Dark
- Chapter Fourteen: Little Brown Birds
- Chapter Fifteen: Popcorn and Prize-winning Pumpkins
- Chapter Sixteen: The Distance Breeched
- Chapter Seventeen: A Song to Light the Dark
- Chapter Eighteen: The Meaning of Fellowship
- Chapter Nineteen: Meanings Behind Words.
- Chapter Twenty: If Elves were meant to fly
- Chapter Twenty-one: Across the Western Sea
- Chapter Twenty-two: Atcheson Topeka and the Santa Fe
- Chapter Twenty-three: Strange Feathers
- Chapter Twenty-four: A Bitter Fruit
- Chapter Twenty-five: Looking for the Exit
- Chapter Twenty-six: Tainted
- Chapter Twenty-seven: The Killing Blow
- Chapter 28: Epilogue