Northern Exposure

"Our society tends to regard as a sickness any mode of thought or behavior that is inconvenient for the system and this is plausible because when an individual doesn't fit into the system it causes pain to the individual as well as problems for the system. Thus the manipulation of an individual to adjust him to the system is seen as a cure for a sickness and therefore as good."
― Theodore J. Kaczynski

"I need a cigarette and a drink." Audrey folded her arms over her chest, heaving heavily from the upset of tears. She had been talking to herself; not that her sister-in-law cared.

"Its eleven thirty in the morning," Jessie chided, "seriously?"

"All the more reason to drink, I'd say. Did you fucking see him?"

Jessie smirked, "Tall, fair, handsome?"

"He thinks he's a king, Jessie. An Elven king. He could look the spitting image of Ryan Gosling and still be bat-shit." Audrey turned around and closed the barn door, latching it.

"So tall…he has to be six foot five at least!"

Audrey reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a Marlboro Red. "You need a smoke after that thought? If you like tall, why the fuck did you marry mister five foot nine?"

Jessie scrunched her nose at the cigarette, ignoring Audrey and her innuendos. Rubbing her shoulders, she watched as Audrey lit a match and took a drag. "From your bad habits to your foul mouth I don't know which is worse…can we at least go inside while you slowly kill yourself?"

"Da never liked smoking in the cabin. You can go inside if you want. I still need that drink."

"Audrey!"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at Jessie. "Fine. Would you approve, mother dearest, of some Bailey's Irish Cream in a cup of coffee?"

"Actually," Jessie bit her lip, "that sounds lovely."

Thranduil sat rigidly and uncomfortably in the horrific Ford. The roaring that came from within the beast was most unsettling and for a fraction of a second, the king wished to be facing the dragons of the north, rather than sitting in the bowels of this creature. Another prominent issue was the Tylenol that Audrey had given him was starting to wearing off, which only confirmed Thranduil's speculation that the medicine of this world was useless. There was no use in trying to move to get comfortable; clearly dwarves occupied the strange seats. He had no leg room.

"You can move the seat back." Johnny eyed his passenger carefully from the driver's side. His one hand was on the steering wheel, the other turning down the heat in the truck. He noticed the bewildered look on Thranduil's face and shook his head. "The lever under the seat, just pull it up."

At first, Thranduil refused to acknowledge anything the half-breed said. Yes, he had convinced himself Johnny was thus. Yet after another mile of his legs cramping to the point of mind searing pain—never minding his throbbing chest—the Elven-King reluctantly bent forward, feeling under the seat. Biting down on his tongue from the flooding of agony that washed over his side, Thranduil nearly gasped with joy when he found said lever. In an excited rush he pulled back the metal bar rather anxiously, flinging his chair back at rapid speed. The episode ended with the King of Mirkwood's upper half somewhere in the back seat bench.

Johnny jumped, startled at first. Then, when the shock had passed and he noticed Thranduil pulling his body from the passenger seat and rest of the way into the back, he roared with laughter. "Should have been wearing your seatbelt; I warned you didn't I?"

Thranduil sneered, sighing in another wave of pain, lying back on the bench seat. He sprawled out his long legs as best he could in the confines of the back, his left leg resting comfortably on the floor, his right slightly bent at the knee, propped against the backing of the bench. "I would not trust a woven clasp with my life…not in this abomination. The thought is absolutely absurd."

"Well then," Johnny chuckled, "You'd probably have a field day concerning air-bags."

You're an air-bag, Thranduil thought. "I'm not interested."

Filling two cups of coffee, Audrey poured the Bailey's into Jessie's, sneaking the Captain Morgan Coconut Rum 90poof into her own. She needed something a little more substantial after her bizarre encounter with Thranduil. Somehow, she wasn't completely convinced he hadn't by hook or by crook been able to read her thoughts. A guilt rose in her then; mostly from his parting words to her…none of which she understood. It wasn't even a recognizable language, of any kind. His very presence seemed ominous when he uttered those completely meaningless sentences…so perfectly…flawlessly…

"What was his name?" Jessie walked up beside Audrey, who hurriedly closed her liquor cabinet, hiding the evidence of foul play.

"What?"

"What was the blond bombshell's name?"

Audrey blinked incredulously. "You're kidding me right? How in the hell can you be obsessing over a delusional, sick, sick, man?"

Jessie shrugged her shoulders coyly, sipping at her drink. She knew if she remained quiet, not giving way to any kind of further inquiry, Audrey would talk.

The younger woman stood there, her arms placed behind her as they rested on the countertop. She was beginning to get a headache herself and the words spoken to her would not leave her mind. By no means was Audrey clingy, attachment-crazed, and yet at the same time she wasn't completely ambiguous towards the opposite sex. She liked to consider herself open minded about the people she let into her life, not excluding those she would keep out. Thranduil was definitely someone she should keep out. So why then, did his face and those words keep replaying over and over in her mind's eye? Why could she not simply stand firm in the fact that he had tried to steal her horse, was wielding a sword, and could have very possibly killed her? All of those were perfectly fantastic reasons to be ecstatic at having him shipped off, never to be seen again. But then again, there was his voice…the look in his eye…as if she betrayed him. As if Audrey had thrown him to the dogs, knowing full well they would devour him.

"Hey..Addie are you all right?"

Audrey lifted a hand to her cheek and cursed again at the tears she found there. "I'm fine. Just still shook up I guess…" She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cigarettes again. Walking towards the front door and turning over to unlock it, she paused. "Thranduil."

"Huh?" Jessie continued to sip her coffee.

Putting the smoke between her lips, Audrey laughed quietly. "His name is Thranduil. He is King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood."

Jessie nearly choked on her drink. She set the cup down on the table and brushed the back of her hand over her mouth. "Jesus…You know what…I think I will have a smoke with you."

"What is this place?" Thranduil peered out the window of the Ford, his eyes widening at the sight. Never in all his six thousand years, had he ever gazed upon buildings of such magnitude. Some of which had nearly reached the heavens, gleaming so bright against the pale warmth of the sun, that it reminded him solemnly of starlight. Other forms of transportation such as Johnny's Ford were all about them, some in motion while others rested. For such unsightly things, they proved useful if only for long distance travel. Thranduil would still have preferred his Great Elk.

"Mackinac Straits Health System; we've finally made it to St. Ignace." Johnny explained, giving up on the bewildered expression his sister's intruder held. Soon enough he wouldn't be their problem anymore and he could carry on his charade with the doctors of the hospital. "I'm going to park and then get you checked into the E.R., all right?"

Thranduil felt no need to answer, his eyes still scrutinizing the layout before him. The ellon was proud, as a King of Mirkwood should have been. He had faced dragons, orcs, goblins, and far fouler things he did not wish to recall. Yet for all his victories and feats of strength, there was trepidation inside of him when he viewed the sliding doors of the hospital. Our world confused him, crushed him, and broke him. He knew not what to say to the people beyond that threshold, nor could he muster an appropriate alibi and false identity. Thranduil was in a hopeless state of panic, though his outer appearance was composed and poised. He tried terribly to remember anything that might prove to give answers to how he came to be in this place. Though the harder he tried, the more his mind began to ache. It was no use. All he recalled from days prior was his son capturing Dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield, and then the next moment he awoke in an oncoming storm, just beyond Audrey's barn. None of it made any logical sense. And if it did not add up for Thranduil, how could he expect anyone inside that foreboding place to believe it? Audrey and Johnny had made it clear: Elves did not exist in this universe. They were nothing more than myth. The Ford stopped moving and the roaring from within ceased.

"Okay, Thranduil." Johnny sighed, scratching at his beard and turning around in his seat to face the man. "They are going to ask questions, question that if answered, will make this whole process go a whole lot faster."

"Pardon me, but I thought you said this was a place of healing. Had I known there would be an interrogation against my person, I would have refused." There was no sarcasm left in his voice. He was afraid…terrified of what might happen.

"It's not an interrogation. Just medical questions, family members they can contact…the usual. Are you willing to provide that to them?"

Thranduil sighed but did not answer, again unsure of how to do so. There were too many things running through his mind for him to be able to properly access the situation at hand. Not to mention the pain that was beginning to resurface. So Johnny took this as a sign that he was willing to cooperate, and opened the door to let the Elven King out.

Their slow walk to the E.R. doors was one of the most daunting occurrences Thranduil had experienced in hundreds of years. People fluttered in and out of the automatic doors, which puzzled Thranduil; for he felt not magic connected to its source of operation. He questioned John on its ability to perform its task, which was met by an irritated facial expression. The only response given to Thranduil was that the glass doors were motion-censored, or otherwise by weight. Yet without magic in the mix, the Elven-King was still rightly puzzled by it. For how could an inanimate object—normally—such as a door, move by way of sensing the presence of a body? He let the inward investigation go as they approached the desk.

From behind bulletproof glass sat two blonde women. At first they did not take notice of the men in front of them, and for half a second Johnny thought they wouldn't any time soon. Then to his surprise, Thranduil spoke. "Pardon me; is it not your job to promptly tend to those in need? How dare you sit there and fondle over your poorly treated nails as if they were in more need than I."

Johnny bit his lip and sighed. So much for Thranduil's fear of the hospital—it seemed his Highness wasn't keen on being ignored by anyone. "Sorry about him," he apologized, "Thranduil, buddy why don't you have a seat? I'll sign you in." John pointed to the far corner of the waiting room, trying to find a place to put him far enough away that he wouldn't be able to disturb others. He waited until the injured man was seated before turning back around to the administration. "He needs a physical. He might have broken ribs, possible concussion…a psyche review."

The woman pushed a clipboard full of papers towards Johnny, under the opening in the glass. She appeared in no way amused. "He will need to fill these out. Once he's completed the them, bring them back up."

Johnny thanked the woman and grabbed a pen from a canister before walking over and plopping down in the seat next to Thranduil. "Here, fill these out." He offered the clipboard. When Thranduil didn't take it from him though, and looked at it as if it were some foreign and unwanted object, Johnny cleared his throat and resigned to helping him. "You know today was my day off…but whatever…okay, just answer these questions best to your ability, all right?"

Thranduil placed a finger over his lips, resting his elbow against the arm of the chair. He nodded slightly.

"Name?"

"John, you know my name."

Johnny sighed. "Remind me again."

"Thranduil of Mirkwood would be sufficient I would think." Pathetically he thought only of keeping his kingship from their knowledge. He watched as Johnny scribbled down his answer.

"Date of birth?"

"The First Age."

"Excuse me?" Johnny slapped the pen down on the clipboard, staring disbelieving at Thranduil.

"Or roughly six thousand years…which ever you wish to scribe. I care not."

Johnny took a deep breath, glaring viciously down at the clipboard, then back to Thranduil. Shaking his head he put down: December 15, 1985. At least that was plausible. Looking down at the next line, Johnny found himself hesitant to ask the following question. "All right…how about family? Wife, kids, parents? Anyone you want to put down as an emergency contact? Anyone who would be willing to release your information to?"

Thranduil's eyes grew dark then. A light seemed to flicker and dim from within him and his eyes glazed over in remembrance. "My son, though I do know of any way to contact him."

"It would be better than leaving it blank." Johnny explained.

"Very well then," Thranduil whispered, "His name is Legolas."

"Cool name." Johnny mused, writing it down and ignoring the further contact information. He didn't bother asking Thranduil for his insurance information, willing to guess he didn't have any. Nor did he even begin to try and pry his social security number. For his address, Johnny simple put: Mirkwood. After everything had been filled out, it was hard not to want to rip up the documents. What had been written on that page was pure idiocy at best and no one was ever going to take it seriously. All it was going to do in was secure the idea that Thranduil needed serious psychological help.

"John, what is the loony-bin?" Thranduil was staring outside as he spoke, his cerulean eyes sparkling. "Audrey had insinuated that I had escaped from it."

Johnny could have killed his sister. Straight up, he could have throttled her. Sometimes he wondered if Audrey's head was screwed on straight. "Well, that's not exactly a great name for a mental-hospital, but it's a place where sick people stay…like sick in the head." How else was he supposed to explain it to a person like Thranduil?

"I know Audrey thinks me mad. Truthfully, I cannot fathom that I would have reacted any differently, had the situation been opposite. To be a stranger in a strange land is not something I would wish upon anyone, though to be alone in one is far worse." The King paused a moment, seemingly reflecting upon his own words before continuing. "I never intended to harm her. Without fail I swear to you I do not know how I came to be in such an…oppressing and saddening world. There is no joy in this land, John… there is no love. Can you not feel it in the air you breathe, in the actions of others?" It was then Thranduil came to realize something. It had been more of an epiphany than anything else; a reason for him to have been brought to this world. For in his palace deep within the earth, hidden from the rest of the world, he had been cruel. By his hand and the turning of his eye, he had let the world around him fall into despair and dared not raise a hand to stay Middle-Earth's foes. He had ordered a blind eye be turned…that no one might enter his Kingdom, and no one should leave it. Perhaps the Valar sought to teach him a lesson for his malcontent. A lesson in humility.

"That was deep." John mused, staring down at the papers. "I have to turn these in…I'll be right back."

Thranduil drew in a breath and gasped in pain. Whatever was ahead of him, it could not be any more painful that what he was experiencing currently. Or so he thought. From across the room a rather large and threatening woman snatched the clipboard from John and stared down at his writing. She pointed over towards Thranduil and John nodded his head. Thranduil frowned.

"Look at you, lookin' like you just came from the medieval fair. C'mon get up, let's go. I ain't waitin' all day for you to get your long legs over here." The woman frightened him, but he slowly rose and slowly walked over to the pair across the room.

The woman looked at John again. "You staying out here, waiting for him?"

"I believe he—" Thranduil tried to explain that John had been his only way to the hospital and possibly his only ride anywhere else when the woman nearly swiped him with the clipboard.

"Was I talkin' to you?"

John had to bit his lip from laughing. Thranduil's face turned wicked with rage and fear, his eyes measuring the large woman who stood only a few inches shorter than him.

"I'll be out here." John promised, resting his hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "I put myself down as your primary physician, so should something come up, they will call me."

Thranduil still eyed the woman, giving a slight nod of his head in John direction. "Do you think I would fair better in the loony-bin, than in the hands of this she-beast?" His whispered.

John shrugged. "Just do as she tells you…try following orders for once, instead of giving them."

The King of Mirkwood was not amused.