[Estelyn Telcontar]

Merisuwyniel sat in the captain’s office, studying the sea charts as she had so often done during the past days. The first officer, Mister Neemoi, sat beside her, watching her with his usual impassive expression. Strangely, that emotionless face had inspired many females in the past to seek to awaken emotion in him, yet he had remained steadfast in his logical outlook on life, the universe, and everything. Even now, in the presence of a young and gorgeous Elven maiden, it was impossible to see what he thought of her, if he was thinking of her at all. He had explained some points of nautical navigation to her, pleased (quite logically) with her ready intellect and quick grasp of facts.

“So in going north, we are now approaching the island of Angol,” she said questioningly. He nodded in affirmation. “If we stop there, perhaps even go on land, and then sail on, we could change the direction without drawing Reaperneep’s attention to that, don’t you think?”

“That would seem likely,” he answered.

“It is a land famous in legends of old,” Merisu mused. “It is said that there are marvellous jesters there and tellers of great tales.” …and fabulous fashions, she added to herself, not wanting to speak aloud of something that would seem frivolous and superficial to the male Elf.

“I gather that you intend to go ashore,” Neemoi said, lifting one eyebrow. “I must warn you that none of our crew have done so for many years; we do not know if it is safe there. Therefore, I presume that all of our senior officers will want to go with you. Our captain never misses a chance to take risks.”

“I will inform my companions, offering them the choice; those who wish can come along. Yet we should not tarry too long; we have lost precious time already.” Merisuwyniel curtseyed prettily and left the room; the door swung open for her as if moved by magic. Then again, it might have been Elven technology that only seems like magic to us…

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

After what had been a rather boring shore leave (Angol didn’t have a reputation like the vacation paradise of Risa), Merisu, her companions, and those of the ship’s crew who had formed the landing party boarded the little boat that was to take them back to their ship. Dr. Macaw had flown onto his favourite perch on Merisu’s shoulder, where he had a good view – err, was able to monitor the regularity of her heartbeat. The captain had not shown up, so a search party was sent out and eventually found him pulling on his boots after what he called ‘negotiations’ with a female tribal leader.

Pimpiowyn and Vogonwë had spent time wandering in a forest that reminded him of his home and inspired several new poetic creations. Fortunately for the rest of the group, he was too busy planning how to unite them into one large epic to be able to recite any parts to an unwilling audience. A picturesque river had been his particular joy, and he thought to name himself after it. “The Bard of Avon” sounded good, he thought, and Pimpi had agreed somewhat absentmindedly.

Reaperneep had insisted on accompanying Merisu “to protect her from harm”. It had taken all of her diplomatic skill to keep him from duelling with a number of the natives, since he had considered their natural curiosity and interest in her beauty a personal affront. She was rather relieved that they were going back on board, hoping that he would stay out of trouble there. Kuruharan’s pockets were bulging more than they had when he left the ship; whether he had bought new wares or sold the natives something for an exorbitant price was anyone’s guess, and Merisu did not intend to ask him about it. Chryshophylax had flown over the island, but after several unpleasant encounters with knights and farmers who had such outlandish names as George and Giles (not to mention swords of great brightness and lineage), he returned to the ship earlier than the others.

Soregum, Leninia, and Gateskeeper had stayed on the ship, ostensibly to watch over the still sleeping Grrralph, but each of them actually wishing to keep a low profile for reasons of their own. Mister Neemoi had also remained on board, since the Captain had insisted on going ashore. It was illogical for both of the highest-ranking officers to leave the vessel, he argued.

(Pimpi had teased Merisu about the first officer, misinterpreting the amount of time they spent together as personal interest. She felt sorry for her idol’s loneliness, since she basked in the attention of two rivalling males, and wished that Meri could be happy with someone new and forget Gravlox. She remembered a snatch of an encouraging song: “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with”, she warbled. It was below Merisu’s dignity to answer.)

One disadvantage of the island of Angol was the rainy weather, and as the crew members (whose names she did not know, all of them wearing red shirts) rowed the little boat back to the ship, she shivered. Clouds drew nearer, darkening ominously, and the waves grew larger. Thunder rolled in the distance. Just as they pulled up to board the ship, a flash of lightning struck the mast of the small vessel in which they sat. Merisu’s skin tingled and she heard a slight crackle, then all seemed to be normal again. Hands reached down to help her climb the ladder.

When all were on deck again, she turned to go to the cabin she shared with the other two females. Astonished, she saw that Pimpiowyn was wearing clothing that seemed to have shrunk inexplicably. “What happened to you?” she asked.

“What happened to you?” came the Half-hobbit’s shocked answer.

Merisu looked down. Instead of her usual long divided skirt, she was now wearing a garment so short that she was not sure it deserved the name ‘skirt’. Her midriff was bare, unadorned by ruffles and frills. As if to make up for the lack of fabric, her boots were now thigh-high, and a wicked-looking dagger was shoved into one of them.

She turned to look at the others. Kuruharan looked like a pirate, but then he had already taken on that appearance during their journey, so that was nothing new. Vogonwë, now covered with fine mail and carrying a shield and sword, looked more a soldier than a poet. And Captain Cirkdan sported something unprecedented in a Elf – a beard!!

Already confused, she was not prepared for what came next. Neemoi, now with a very fetching goatee adorning his face, rushed up to her with a big smile, hugged her enthusiastically and said, “I’m so glad you’re back, darling! I missed you so!”

Leninia, dressed as exotically as usual, came up and exclaimed, “Aww, if I’d known that you were going to Carnaby Street to shop, I would have come along! Did you get those miniskirts at Mériquaunts? And your hairdos! You must have been to Sassûn’s salon. I’m jealous!”

Bewildered, Merisu decided that she apparently needed a rest; perhaps there would be a logical explanation for everything, if she could only understand what was happening. Yet instead of going to the girls’ cabin, Neemoi led her to his, where she found all of her belongings. Even the Entish Bow stood beside the bed, as if she had left it there. “Why don’t you take a nap?” the first officer suggested. “I’ll be back after meeting with the captain to plan our course of action for capturing the other Elven ships for our journey. I want to make sure none of the other crew members tries to assassinate him and take over.”

Though she tried, she could not sleep. Finally she sent an O-mail message to Vogonwë, asking him to bring Pimpi, Kuruharan, and Reaperneep to her cabin to discuss what had happened. They brought shocking news with them, of a crew that seemed to have turned barbarian, and of a plot to murder other Elves to capture their ships.

“A Kinslaying?” she gasped. “But who has heard of Elves killing one another? That is horrible – it must be stopped!”

“Shall I kill the whole crew to stop them?” Vogonwë asked, standing tall in his armour. Pimpiowyn looked up at him admiringly.

“I shall help you!” exclaimed Reaperneep.

“Waste of a good opportunity for profit,” muttered Kuruharan.

“Something has changed,” Merisu stated. “This is not the same ship nor the same crew; though they look similar, there are differences. Perhaps the lightning changed us so that we are no longer in our own Arda, but in a parallel world – as in a mirror, darkly. We must find a way to return to our world, but can we do something to avert a catastrophe here?”

“Do nothing hasty,” she continued. “I shall contact the Captain and Dr. Macaw to see if we can duplicate the conditions that brought us here. And since this ship’s Mister Neemoi seems to be my husband in this world, I will reason with him. Logic will show him that peace is better than the slaughter they have planned.”

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

Being an Elf who accomplished what she set out to do, it did not take long before Merisuwyniel and the other members of the landing party were once again seated in the small boat. Neemoi, his face filled with sorrow at losing the Elven maiden who had charmed him so (the one he would be getting back was less even-tempered than she), let down the ropes. He had promised her (what price she paid for that promise is left to the imagination of the reader) that he would turn aside the bloodthirsty schemes of the Elven Empire and seek to lead them to peace.

Once again, the wind tossed their small vessel to and fro. Once again, ominous clouds enveloped the sky, and thunder sounded from them. As lightning struck, Merisu’s thoughts called out to Yawanna for help and guidance. She fervently hoped that there was a benevolent equivalent to the green goddess in this world. Then she found herself and her companions aboard a ship that was just as she remembered it. All was as it had been, she was as she had been, yet though she was greatly relieved, why did she found herself wishing that Neemoi’s greeting had been more than just a cool nod?