Chapter Ten: Coffee and Hot Cross Buns
“It was a blonde, a blonde to make a Bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.” -- Raymond Chandler (1888-1959)
The Sheriff of Taos had a lot of things on his mind. Trouble over at the high school, a radio missing from the dock at the train station, kids racing tractors out near the dairy. He didn’t much care about a rabbit snare on somebody’s property, or reports that campfires were being seen at night, with no evidence to be found the next morning. It just didn’t trouble the big scheme of keeping safe and sane in Taos. So the Sheriff attended to more pressing matters...including regular lunches at the Woolworth’s counter where that new girl had the world’s prettiest green eyes and lush red hair. Now THAT was worth investigating.
“Peter…Lieutenant Farrell…Yes, that’s right, the Mad Blighter. Me? I guess I could complain, but nobody’d care enough to listen, would they?” Colin fumbled around his desk and pockets for a pack of cigarettes with the phone crushed between his shoulder and face. “So, how’s Harriet? Uh huh -- and the kids? Good on ya, lad, that’s fine. Mention me to the Priest, would you? Tell him I’ve been busy convertin’ C. of E. souls,” he continued as he abandoned the futile search. “Well, I know you’re a busy man and I wouldn’t want to keep you, so let me get right to the point. Remember that incident last spring, with the Lord and his, er, trousers? Uh huh -- and you said something to the effect of, ‘if you ever need anything just name it?’ Good. Well, I need a favor….”
“Legolas,” he beamed as he strode into the dingy room, brandishing new treat. “It’s a banana. You eat it,” he explained as he offered up the fruit. “I hope you like it. It cost me a whole pack of American cigs. Bloody war…if it ain’t grown here your chances of getting it are slim to none.” He pulled up a chair as Legolas finally sank down upon his hospital bed and accepted the latest offering with mild skepticism.
“Thank you, Colin,” he said, and as the lieutenant reached across to demonstrate how to peel it, added. “Hannon le.”
“Yeah, well, I just couldn’t bring another apple. It started to feel like I was headin’ to the stables to visit a horse.” Legolas offered to share the banana, and when Colin declined a bite the Elf consumed it with obvious pleasure. He then ate the peel. ‘Whatever,’ Colin decided. He looked around the room and settled back into the stiff wooden chair as he confessed, “Afraid we won’t be going out today. That big oaf has the day off, doubtless out Christmas shopping for the kiddies, and nobody else would agree to bring in the shackles. But I thought….” His voice abruptly halted as he felt a firm grip upon his forearm and looked down to see long, slender fingers encircling his wrist.
He glanced up to meet piercing blue eyes, bright within the sunken hollows of the still-handsome face. The blond hair was growing back at an amazing rate, but its loss was still keenly felt. Legolas’ gaze shifted to the door and then back to his own. An exhausted smile flitted across the elven features as Legolas lay back upon the cot, stretching out his long legs. This was the first time Colin had seen him relax inside.
The Elf’s fingers slid around to clasp his hand, and Colin’s mind was filled with fleeting images of a very inappropriate nature as his senses enjoyed the touch of a hand that was not quite human – but somehow more than human. Several awkward moments passed before he took a deep breath and looked up to realized that the young man was sleeping, eyes just barely closed, face even more lovely in its vulnerability.
“Humph,” he snorted, trying to regain his professional demeanor. “And here I’d come to think you never slept.” Then the realization hit him; the Elf probably never slept so as to be at the ready for whatever might happen to him. The notion that Colin had gained such trust was welcome, and yet at the same time disconcerting.
When the dinner tray arrived he watched it slide noisily across the stone floor, but the sound didn’t seem to rouse the sleeper. Colin could have really gone for that cup of tea sitting so enticingly on the corner of the tray, but feared that the fragile contact between them was all that was keeping the Elf in that restful repose he so desperately needed.
Dreams of massive trees stretching to the distant horizon were cut short as Colin was awakened by a warning shout in the darkness. “Aragorn!” echoed around the hollow room.
Colin’s attempt to react was thwarted by agonizingly stiff muscles as he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The cry had sounded somehow like a name, and he watched as Legolas continued groping instinctively for a weapon that wasn’t there. The instant between dream and reality passed, and the delicate hands fell disconsolately to his lap as his face once again took on the mask of control, belied by the tracks of tears. Colin tried to reach for the Elf’s hand again, but the contact was not allowed. Suspicion clouded the now-clear blue eyes.
Colin stood, slowly stretched and stepped over to the small window. There was that haunting glow that could not be called light, but was the definite precursor to impending daybreak. For once they’d made it through an entire night without air raids or bombings. “Damn,” he cursed softly, knowing that even if he caught the first train he would never make it to his office on time. Not to mention having to show up in the same suit he’d left in the day before, only considerably more rumpled. And what were the chances of getting a cup of coffee and a hot cross bun in this God-forsaken place?
Aragorn took Marvin’s Queen with a grin, his eyes locked on the King.
“Oh, I see,” Jefferson drawled. “Beginner's luck, cracker.”
“Again,” Aragorn said, in the same drawling tone. “Check?”
“Check,” Marvin sighed. “Damn, you starting to piss me off. Look, I don’t have time to keep teachin’ you this game. I need to drive to Albuquerque to get that load of phosphate.” He stood, glaring at the chessboard and dusting off his pants. It was hot in the hangar, nothing stirring in the noon heat.
“I drive. Drive big truck,” Aragorn told him.
“You tellin’ me you can drive? Didn’t know they had roads where you come from.”
“Roads. Ride horses.”
“Figures. Why don’t you come along then? Unless you have a more pressing engagement, Aaron....”
“Happy to engagement for you, Marvin Junior,” the future King of Gondor said cheerily.
They were a couple of miles out of town and Aragorn was quietly going through the contents of the pickup’s glove box when he found a photo of Marvin, in uniform, with a half dozen other uniformed men, posed in front of several airplanes. Aragorn turned the photo over several times, wondering how such a painting was made, with such detail. It looked like a tiny window into another time and place.
Marvin glanced over to see what he was looking at. “That was us in France, after half the squad got wiped out. Most decorated group in the whole arena.”
“Flyers,” Aragorn said, trying to see if he could feel brush marks with the tips of his calloused fingers.
“We were the Tuskegee Airmen. Bravest bunch of colored men to ever fight for their country.”
“I know fight.”
“I think you do, Aaron. Well, we helped win that war, you know? They couldn’t have done it without us.”
“War?” Aragorn echoed. “War? Who?” Visions of Sauron lit paths of fire in his gut.
“The Big War, man. You know? Hitler’s forces? Couple years ago! Where the hell have you been, anyway?” He stabbed a finger at the newspaper folded on the seat between them. ‘BERLIN FACES TROUBLED FUTURE’ read the headline of the Santa Fe New Mexican, dated April 4th, 1947. “A man would almost think you just dropped out of the sky, Aaron.”
On the night of December 27th, 1940, London suffered a terrible new wave of destruction as German forces inflicted incendiary bombing runs over the beleaguered city. The southern sections of the city were hit particularly hard, including the area around the mostly-deserted Maudsley Hospital in Denmark Hill, close to Brixton Prison. Fires raged out of control for days, turning whole neighborhoods into infernos.
Many innocent lives were lost.
One was saved....
The Sheriff of Taos had a lot of things on his mind. Trouble over at the high school, a radio missing from the dock at the train station, kids racing tractors out near the dairy. He didn’t much care about a rabbit snare on somebody’s property, or reports that campfires were being seen at night, with no evidence to be found the next morning. It just didn’t trouble the big scheme of keeping safe and sane in Taos. So the Sheriff attended to more pressing matters...including regular lunches at the Woolworth’s counter where that new girl had the world’s prettiest green eyes and lush red hair. Now THAT was worth investigating.
“Peter…Lieutenant Farrell…Yes, that’s right, the Mad Blighter. Me? I guess I could complain, but nobody’d care enough to listen, would they?” Colin fumbled around his desk and pockets for a pack of cigarettes with the phone crushed between his shoulder and face. “So, how’s Harriet? Uh huh -- and the kids? Good on ya, lad, that’s fine. Mention me to the Priest, would you? Tell him I’ve been busy convertin’ C. of E. souls,” he continued as he abandoned the futile search. “Well, I know you’re a busy man and I wouldn’t want to keep you, so let me get right to the point. Remember that incident last spring, with the Lord and his, er, trousers? Uh huh -- and you said something to the effect of, ‘if you ever need anything just name it?’ Good. Well, I need a favor….”
“Legolas,” he beamed as he strode into the dingy room, brandishing new treat. “It’s a banana. You eat it,” he explained as he offered up the fruit. “I hope you like it. It cost me a whole pack of American cigs. Bloody war…if it ain’t grown here your chances of getting it are slim to none.” He pulled up a chair as Legolas finally sank down upon his hospital bed and accepted the latest offering with mild skepticism.
“Thank you, Colin,” he said, and as the lieutenant reached across to demonstrate how to peel it, added. “Hannon le.”
“Yeah, well, I just couldn’t bring another apple. It started to feel like I was headin’ to the stables to visit a horse.” Legolas offered to share the banana, and when Colin declined a bite the Elf consumed it with obvious pleasure. He then ate the peel. ‘Whatever,’ Colin decided. He looked around the room and settled back into the stiff wooden chair as he confessed, “Afraid we won’t be going out today. That big oaf has the day off, doubtless out Christmas shopping for the kiddies, and nobody else would agree to bring in the shackles. But I thought….” His voice abruptly halted as he felt a firm grip upon his forearm and looked down to see long, slender fingers encircling his wrist.
He glanced up to meet piercing blue eyes, bright within the sunken hollows of the still-handsome face. The blond hair was growing back at an amazing rate, but its loss was still keenly felt. Legolas’ gaze shifted to the door and then back to his own. An exhausted smile flitted across the elven features as Legolas lay back upon the cot, stretching out his long legs. This was the first time Colin had seen him relax inside.
The Elf’s fingers slid around to clasp his hand, and Colin’s mind was filled with fleeting images of a very inappropriate nature as his senses enjoyed the touch of a hand that was not quite human – but somehow more than human. Several awkward moments passed before he took a deep breath and looked up to realized that the young man was sleeping, eyes just barely closed, face even more lovely in its vulnerability.
“Humph,” he snorted, trying to regain his professional demeanor. “And here I’d come to think you never slept.” Then the realization hit him; the Elf probably never slept so as to be at the ready for whatever might happen to him. The notion that Colin had gained such trust was welcome, and yet at the same time disconcerting.
When the dinner tray arrived he watched it slide noisily across the stone floor, but the sound didn’t seem to rouse the sleeper. Colin could have really gone for that cup of tea sitting so enticingly on the corner of the tray, but feared that the fragile contact between them was all that was keeping the Elf in that restful repose he so desperately needed.
Dreams of massive trees stretching to the distant horizon were cut short as Colin was awakened by a warning shout in the darkness. “Aragorn!” echoed around the hollow room.
Colin’s attempt to react was thwarted by agonizingly stiff muscles as he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The cry had sounded somehow like a name, and he watched as Legolas continued groping instinctively for a weapon that wasn’t there. The instant between dream and reality passed, and the delicate hands fell disconsolately to his lap as his face once again took on the mask of control, belied by the tracks of tears. Colin tried to reach for the Elf’s hand again, but the contact was not allowed. Suspicion clouded the now-clear blue eyes.
Colin stood, slowly stretched and stepped over to the small window. There was that haunting glow that could not be called light, but was the definite precursor to impending daybreak. For once they’d made it through an entire night without air raids or bombings. “Damn,” he cursed softly, knowing that even if he caught the first train he would never make it to his office on time. Not to mention having to show up in the same suit he’d left in the day before, only considerably more rumpled. And what were the chances of getting a cup of coffee and a hot cross bun in this God-forsaken place?
Aragorn took Marvin’s Queen with a grin, his eyes locked on the King.
“Oh, I see,” Jefferson drawled. “Beginner's luck, cracker.”
“Again,” Aragorn said, in the same drawling tone. “Check?”
“Check,” Marvin sighed. “Damn, you starting to piss me off. Look, I don’t have time to keep teachin’ you this game. I need to drive to Albuquerque to get that load of phosphate.” He stood, glaring at the chessboard and dusting off his pants. It was hot in the hangar, nothing stirring in the noon heat.
“I drive. Drive big truck,” Aragorn told him.
“You tellin’ me you can drive? Didn’t know they had roads where you come from.”
“Roads. Ride horses.”
“Figures. Why don’t you come along then? Unless you have a more pressing engagement, Aaron....”
“Happy to engagement for you, Marvin Junior,” the future King of Gondor said cheerily.
They were a couple of miles out of town and Aragorn was quietly going through the contents of the pickup’s glove box when he found a photo of Marvin, in uniform, with a half dozen other uniformed men, posed in front of several airplanes. Aragorn turned the photo over several times, wondering how such a painting was made, with such detail. It looked like a tiny window into another time and place.
Marvin glanced over to see what he was looking at. “That was us in France, after half the squad got wiped out. Most decorated group in the whole arena.”
“Flyers,” Aragorn said, trying to see if he could feel brush marks with the tips of his calloused fingers.
“We were the Tuskegee Airmen. Bravest bunch of colored men to ever fight for their country.”
“I know fight.”
“I think you do, Aaron. Well, we helped win that war, you know? They couldn’t have done it without us.”
“War?” Aragorn echoed. “War? Who?” Visions of Sauron lit paths of fire in his gut.
“The Big War, man. You know? Hitler’s forces? Couple years ago! Where the hell have you been, anyway?” He stabbed a finger at the newspaper folded on the seat between them. ‘BERLIN FACES TROUBLED FUTURE’ read the headline of the Santa Fe New Mexican, dated April 4th, 1947. “A man would almost think you just dropped out of the sky, Aaron.”
On the night of December 27th, 1940, London suffered a terrible new wave of destruction as German forces inflicted incendiary bombing runs over the beleaguered city. The southern sections of the city were hit particularly hard, including the area around the mostly-deserted Maudsley Hospital in Denmark Hill, close to Brixton Prison. Fires raged out of control for days, turning whole neighborhoods into infernos.
Many innocent lives were lost.
One was saved....
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