Northern Exposure

"I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid."
― Lois Lowry, The Giver

"Audrey, what do you mean he is sitting right there?!" Audrey should have expected that response from her brother. Actually, what she expected was for him to throat punch her through the phone.
"He's not going to hurt me. He can barely stand upright. I'd take him to the hospital, but I don't need him knowing where I work…and I don't think he even knows where he is, if I'm being honest." She cupped her hand over the speaker of the phone, whispering so Thranduil—or whatever he claimed his name to be—couldn't hear her…or so she thought.
The Elven-King had however, heard every word; even Johnny's responses. Albeit the blank expression on his face gave way to ignorance, so Audrey was as clueless to his keen sense of hearing as any in this strange place. He continued to stare ominously at the device held to the human's ear, scrutinizing it mercilessly. It was a form of witch-craft no doubt; one of the foul trinkets that more than likely had him transported to this strange place. Thranduil was no fool; he was well aware he was no longer in Arda. Here in this forsaken land much of his power had depleted. Where he was once swift and responsive to his surroundings, the King found that he now fumbled. Magic was neither in the roots of the trees nor in the wind of the air, and now…now he was ill with fever. Something was terribly wrong…something hadgone terribly wrong. Worst of all, Thranduil could not remember the slightest detail of how he came to be in such a strange place. The more he thought on all of this—the more he listened to the human's conversation; Thranduil knew he must tread carefully. Without his essence whole in such a foreign world, he was fragile and unwoven. Part of him considered that this place housed none of his kin. It was terrifying to contemplate, yet all the same he had come to terms that it was a possibility.
His head pounded with the most surreal headache he had ever experienced. Never in all of his days had he the displeasure of purging, but just then a wave of nausea—or what he assumed nausea might be—flooded over him. He sucked in a deep breath and held it there, concentrated on the conversation between the two siblings…one of which he could not see. From what he could pick out from beyond his searing head, Thranduil swore he heard a third voice…one rather high-pitched and in his own opinion—annoying. He blocked it out and focused on the heavily accented female voice of Audrey and the male vocals. What he heard was not to his liking.
"Johnny…I'm serious…I don't think he had any intention of causing me harm. Granted he tried to steal the horse, but I honestly think he was just trying to get away. He said he is the King of Elves or some absurd nonsense. He needs to be seen by a physiatrist. Not to mention a doctor. I'm pretty sure he broke some ribs and if not broke, he seriously bruised them." Audrey was still whispering, unaware of her eavesdropper.
"Addie, you're a fucking fool. You stay away from him! Do you hear me? You have no idea what he is capable of, and if he is mentally unstable, that is all the more reason for you to get the hell away." He already disliked the formless voice of Johnny. Had the tables been turned, Thranduil would have ordered a spell in the dungeons for him. Elf-kin or not, no one spoke so brazenly of the Elven-King in such a manner.
His ears perked as he heard Audrey sigh.
"John, I know I'm not earning sister of the year award or even coming close to being your favorite person at the moment. Regardless if this guy is just sick or sick in the head, he needs to be seen. At least help me get him far enough away. Maybe we can take him as far as St. Ignace? Even you said yourself I shouldn't be alone with him. He might be hella creepy, but he's still human…or Elf…or whatever." She glanced over at him. The last thing she needed was for him to go psycho…especially if he really thought he was an Elf. Calling him human may well be the death of her.
Audrey walked over to him just then, offering a small smile which he did not return. His icy stare did not betray his resentment towards the whole situation. She sucked in a mouthful of air and scratched the top of her head, waiting for her brother's response.
"…An hour and a half I'll be there…if he needs Tylenol for the pain give it to him. Ibuprofen would work better if he has swelling; it's an anti-inflammatory. Just be careful if you give him it though, especially if he has internal injury. It's also a blood thinner." Johnny's voice was irritated, but resolved.
His sister bit her lip and stared down at the blonde once more. Their eyes locked and for a moment everything seemed to stand still. He seemed so…serene. Even in his pain. "Thanks, Johnny." She hung up the phone and let her eyes trail to the sword that had been tossed. It had landed near the entrance to the barn. Slowly she moved towards it, her eyes never leaving Thranduil's. He too watched her like a hawk.
"Do not dare to touch that." His voice was laced with venom, his eyes burning so fiercely that they pierced Audrey's very soul. Either he was one hell of an actor, or this guy really thought he was a king. "It is not a weapon forged for mortal hands."
Audrey was frozen to the spot. Though she was completely convinced this guy was a crackpot, one could not rebuke the fact that he held himself rather mightily. She was almost afraid to touch the thing…the thin blade hollowed and cold. The whole sword looked more like a work of art than an actual weapon. She wondered… "Have you used it? I mean, have you killed with it before?"
Thranduil cocked his head and raised his brows so smugly, Audrey wanted to punch him. How could he look so cool, composed and yet still so arrogant? "What use is there in having a blade if one does not utilize it? Are you full of nothing but uninformed queries?"
That had done it. Audrey smiled sweetly at him, raising her middle finger and then lowering it to the sword, touching it just so. "Fuck you and your ill-mannered, etiquette. Blow it out you Kingly ass."
Thranduil's mouth fell open at her sheer audacity. Audrey had to suppress a giggle, seeing him gape as though she committed treason. She picked up the blade and held it by the hilt. "I'll give this back to you once we get to St. Ignace. For now, I'm going to keep it with me—for safety and reassurance. Now, do you want Tylenol or Ibuprofen?" When the blue eyed blonde refused to answer her, she shrugged. "If you want to sit in pain for the next hour and half be my guest. I was only trying to help."
Through his narrowed eyes, the King of Mirkwood fought the agony raging inside of him. His head was still pounding; the nausea still very potent in his stomach, and his side ached dreadfully. "Are they both forms of healing?"
"Seriously?" She sighed through her fed-up laughter. "They are pain-killers…mild pain-killers. Come on dude…"
Never in all his lifetimes had he ever felt stupid. He was not fond of the sentiment, especially when being made to feel so by a mortal girl. "Will it cure a migraine?"
She shrugged. "Yeah…suppose it would."
He sneered while watching her grip his sword. "Then bring me the more potent of the two."
Audrey shook her head in disbelief, trying to remind herself that this guy was seriously sick. "Right then, I'll be back…Your Majesty."
After thoroughly inspecting Thranduil's sword and snapping a least fifteen photos of it—Audrey had a thing for vintage looking anything—she placed it under her sofa cushions for safekeeping. She then grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from her bathroom's medicine cabinet, a cup of water from the faucet and stumbled back outside. On her way back to the barn, a familiar meow revisited her ears. Looking down to her right, Lando was hobbling along as best he could in all of his fatness. She chided him playfully; they both entered the barn together.
Getting the King of Mirkwood to swallow the red and white pills was worse than trying to bathe her cat. Continuously Audrey tried to convince him she wasn't trying to poison anybody, but still the damned lunatic wouldn't budge. Eventually, she had to take two pills herself and after twenty minutes of sitting in front of him, proving that she wasn't going to die, Thranduil finally consented to taking them. Of course, not without difficulty; clearly he had never taken any pills before. Or again, he was one hell of a performer.
He complained that the water was foul and that the pills sat ill in his stomach. Audrey tried to explain to him that it was well water he was drinking and that sometimes medicine would upset one's stomach if they hadn't eaten anything. When she asked him when the last time he had consumed anything was, he seemed utterly puzzled. The last thing she wanted was to invoke any kind of episode from him, so she told him not to think on it, and went back into the house to get something for him to eat. Upon returning the second time, Thranduil—she noticed—was rather pleased with the apples and cheeses she had brought with her. For her it was good to know that at least those two things were common in the la-la land he created as well as the real world.
As he reached over at the plate of cheeses, his hair swept over his shoulder, revealing a sight Audrey could not tear her eyes from. His pointed ears had the hairs on her arms and neck standing on end. This guy was really committed to the world he created. It was a realization that gave her very little comfort. He noticed her gawking. "It is rude to stare."
"Sorry," she whispered, "I've just never seen…" Her words fell short as the sound of Johnny's Ford came revving up the drive way.
"What monstrosity makes such vulgar cries?" Thranduil spoke more out of agitation than curiosity.
"Not a Ford guy? Let me guess, Chevy?" Audrey realized her jest went right over his head. "Never mind. Just don't insult his truck in front of him okay?"
Thranduil watched on as Audrey left him where he sat and for a moment trepidation gripped his heart. He remembered well enough the conversation that took place a few hours ago; he had not resolved himself to their plans for him. Try as he might to appear to be one of them, if only for the sake of staying away from the looney-bin Audrey spoke of, was harder than he first anticipated. It was one thing to blend in with your enemies and make them believe you were one of them—given the right information to do so. In this place however, everything was different. The way they wore their clothing, carried their bodies, and most certainly the way they spoke, were all prominently different. Thranduil was still baffled by Audrey's mouth. He knew not of one female of any species in Middle-Earth who would dare to use just vulgarity. And to a King no less… The Elven Lord may well have backhanded her in her disregard for him early, had she been within range. Surely all of this was a horrid nightmare from which he would soon wake? Yes, that was a comforting thought indeed. Soon, he would wake in his chambers within the safety of his palace and Audrey, her evil communication device, and the horrid sounding Ford would all be a very distant and repressed nightmare. Hushed voices from outside the barn brought the King back from his musings. With less of a headache thanks to the elusive Tylenol, Thranduil honed in on the conversation with his keen Elven ears.
From what he could tell, Audrey was seemingly defending him. How peculiar indeed, he thought. Never in his wildest imaginations could he have conceived to think that the ill-tempered human would harbor any sort of sympathy to his plight. Yet as he listened closer, it became painfully obvious that his plight was misconceived. She truly had thought him ill in the head and dared not to believe his origins. Audrey thought him insane. The Elven-King closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He should have expected as much, even if the only person teetering on the brink of insanity was her. Thranduil's eyes opened when the voice of John broke through his sister's ranting. If he had hoped for a male presence to be the voice of reason, the ellon was mistaken. This John was rather more adamant about the king's mental state than Audrey had been. Was there no end to these mortals' insolence and debauchery regarding him? The words he heard come pouring out of John's mouth slandered Thranduil. How dare he insinuate that Audrey had been in danger of him! That he might have violated his pathetic sister in a cardinal sense! To accuse him of such was punishable by more than a stint in the dungeons. If he'd the strength or ability to silence the fool—oh how he longed for his sword to be returned to him! Thranduil heard their footfalls as they made their way back to him.
"This is him?" A broad figure stepped over the threshold of the barn. The King hadn't needed to assume it was anyone but Johnny. In Thranduil's eyes he looked to be of Dwarven stock; a sandy yet bushy beard seemed to be his preference in wearing his facial hair. Though it puzzled the ellon immensely to see his hair secured to the top of his head much the way Audrey's was. There was no Dwarf he knew of that wore their tresses in such a manner. Perhaps he wasn't Dwarven after all…though the hatred that seemed to fuel his demeanor said otherwise. Thranduil only knew of one kind of species that loathed his kin so terribly fierce. But if Johnny was a half-bred, was his sister?
"Yup, that's him. Thran-drool of the North Elfwood or some nonsense." Audrey bit her thumbnail, leaning her weight against her hip.
The Elven-King did not spare her his scornful gaze. He had the most impeccable way of appearing emotionless and at the same time, terrifyingly forceful. "Thranduil King of the Northern Elves of Mirkwood." Each syllable was enunciated to perfection.
"My bad," Audrey threw her hands up in defense. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."
Johnny shook his head while stepping forward and crouching down in front of Thranduil. "All right, Thranduil. My name is John Burnett…I'm a doc—healer." He peered back at it his sister, remembering what she said about this guy's idea of medicine. "I can take you someplace where trained people can care for your wounds, but I need you to cooperate."
Audrey bit her lip trying to hide her laughter. Her brother was in for a rude awakening if he thought Thranduil was going to take being treated like a child lightly. Yet to her stunned amazement, the blonde simply closed his eyes and nodded in what could be interpreted as consent. Her head jerked back in shock.
"Good…I'm going to try and make room for you in the truck. I'll keep in mind that you've damaged your ribs. Did Audrey give you anything for the pain?" Her brother's voice was softer this time around. He probably felt more at ease knowing getting Thranduil to a hospital wasn't going to be a hassle.
"Your good sister is an amateur healer at best, but thanks to her tenderheartedness I believe I am feeling up for travel."
Audrey stomped forward, her arms crossed. "Okay, what the hell is going on? What happened to the homeliness regarding my etiquette, hm?" She wasn't buying his bullshit ruse for one moment.
"Homely etiquette, eh?" Johnny chuckled. "Well, I can't disagree with him if he truly did say that, Addie. You're mouth isn't exactly virgin-like."
"You're an asshole."
"My point," he sighed, "Sorry if her vulgar mouth offended you…it's just how she is. Audrey has never played nice with others…though I can't exactly blame her. What with you roaming around her house last night and all that business that took place."
Thranduil shifted from his place on the floor without saying a word in response. The familiarity these people used with him was being to wear on his patience.
"Right then…well, I'm going to go get the truck ready. It's just going to be you and me buddy. Think you can make a couple hours ride to St. Ignace?"
Again he nodded, willing John to leave him be. What choice did he have in the matter? Clearly none—especially if they already questioned his lucidity. Once Audrey's brother had left, the Elven-King turned to her. "What will become of me?"
Audrey played what he said over in her mind, thinking how best to respond. Chances were, they would treat his wounds, give him a psych review, and he would probably be shipped to a mental health correctional institution. Something inside of her though thought it best to leave out the finer details. "They're going to fix you up. Then, you'll more than likely be free to go. Back to Mirkwood, maybe…if that's where you need to be." She knew it wasn't right to feed into delusions, but what the hell? It wasn't like she was going to see him ever again.
"Why do men feel the incessant need to lie? Does it not burden your soul?" He sounded so hateful when addressing her this time. Eerily, Audrey felt as though her mind were being picked and prodded through. Almost as if he were reading her thoughts and delving deeper into them to find the truth.
"Why would you think I'm lying?"
His eyes darted to her being then, blazing into her very soul. It tore away at her until Audrey could no longer meet his gaze. For her, it was just another eerie example of his oddity that she didn't understand.
"Istan quetë ya merin, ar lá hanyuvatyen… Úcarnet nin, Audrey."
She shook her head slightly, unable to grasp what was being done to her being. Raising a hand to her face, she realized she was shedding tears. What in the freaking hell was he doing to her? "What the fuck did you just say?"
He turned his body from her then, using all of his strength to raise himself from the floor of the barn. His silk robes fell from his shoulders as he summoned the will to walk passed her and towards the Ford. He stopped only for a moment, tilting his head in a manner that commanded authority. "I would see my sword returned to me as soon as possible." With that, Thranduil continued to walk away.
Jessie ended up passing him on her way to Audrey.