THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN OFT' GO ASTRAY

Celebwen Telcontar: Here's the second chapter.

Balrog: Chaos! I like chaos! (Looks over a destroyed curtains and shruggs)

Celebwen Telcontar: (raises eyebrows) Please read and review, people!

Elizabeth Summers knelt by the children, frowning over their haul: Toothbrushes, floss, cheap toys, and hardly any hint of chocolate. Then, she saw some of their faces change. Morph, into something resembling their costumes. One attacked her, and she held it off with kicks and well-placed punches. Then, all went black for Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Alexander Harris was rounding his troop of children, shouting like a drill Sargent, when one of the children became a human-sized cat and ran off. Others had things done to them. Then, he blacked out.

Willow Rosenberg was leading her group to the next house in their patrol when she saw the children become demons and attack the house's owner. Then, blackness overtook her.

Cordelia Chase was leading her group of children around, when one of the children rounded on her and attacked her. As she somehow held it off, she felt her mind go blank.

Daniel Osbourne was driving the van when the blackness took him. He didn't remember crashing into the side of a building.

Rupert Giles was filing some new books into the library system when he blacked out.

Liam Callahan, now known as the vampire Angel, was staying at home, having a glass of blood when all went black.

Drusilla Black, now known as Drusilla the Mad, was singing to her dolls and trying to see what Miss Edith wanted her to do when the doll opened its mouth and a black mist overtook her, knocking her out.

None of them noticed that their garments changed.

Boromir son of Denethor found himself inside some metal and leather... thing with glass windows in the front and sides. He tried to shove the side, where it looked to be a door, open, but it wouldn't budge. He finally resorted to smashing the side window with the pommel of his sword then climbed out over the shards, glad he was wearing his chain mail. He wondered why someone would go to the trouble of making such high-quality glass for such a small dwelling. Not even the citadel in Minas Tirith had much glass to speak of, the other windows open to the elements and closing only with beautifully carved white shutters, silver inlay making the famous White Tree of Gondor, and none of the Citadel glass was near this quality.

This crystalline glass was perfectly translucent, not bubbly and varying in width like all glass Boromir was familiar with. He didn't think it was crystal, for one thing it was too strong. Most crystal, unless it was treated in some secret Dwarven fashion, was brittle, and didn't have the dark gleam this did. He picked up a shard, tucking it into the small pack he had been given in Rivendell so he could show the glass to his brother. Faramir always loved mysteries.

A yelling and howling... thing... that looked somewhat like a demented orc, came rushing at him. He lashed out with his sword and shield, smashing the creature back with the boss of his shield before lopping off its head and impaling a second monster. He grinned; this was what he loved doing! The thrill of battle, getting his blood going! He didn't have time or patience for musty old scrolls and sitting listening to complaints from the populace. As a creature yelled at him, he snarled back, impaling the creature's head and lashing up and around, decapitating yet another of them. This one, interestingly enough, dissolved into dirt as it's head was removed from its shoulders. He would deal with that mystery later. He hated mysteries. Give him a good, solid fight, though, and he would be content enough.

But there were too many. He couldn't hold against all of them, and a few were climbing through the thing he had been in, and his position was being compromised. He slung his shield onto his back to protect where he couldn't see or defend, and he grabbed his horn, blowing long, echoing blasts through the settlement.

Eowyn daughter of Eomund found herself surrounded by small monsters. As one advanced, she kicked it in the face, spinning around and laying about with whatever came to hand, including the miniature sword one of them carried. It was more like a long dagger, and she used it as such, darting in and drawing blood, leaving death and destruction in her wake. It had been a while since she had done any sword work, as being the wife of the Steward of Gondor and the Princess of Ithilien wasn't a position where she could be active very often, and besides, she had learned to heal wounds instead of inflicting them, and preferred doing so.

Lifting the skirts that hampered her movement, she kicked another demon in the gut this time, lashing out indiscriminately with her pilfered dagger. She struggled through the mounting pile of dead before walking off to figure out where she was and how she had gotten here.

Suddenly, though the chaos, a cry rang out:

"Eorlingas!"

"Eomer!" she whispered, hiking her dress up and running to help her brother.

Lothiriel daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, Queen of Rohan, was completely alone. That seemed to be a blessing, due to the madness that was roaming wherever she was. Small orcish things, large demons, a strange man with flyaway blonde hair and a flock of the little monsters as well as what looked like a severely annoyed brown haired woman in a white dress were all walking down the solid black path, the bizarre blonde singing for some reason or other. She looked for shelter and went to the entrance of the nearest dwelling and knocked. The woman inside said something or other, and motioned her inside. Lothiriel went in and thanked her, and the woman looked oddly at her before guiding her over to a chair. Soon, she had a cup of tea in one hand and was staring at the elderly woman who had handed her a strange brown block. The woman ate one, and Lothiriel did too. The taste was exquisite, with a burst of... something sweet and smooth under the rich taste of the brick that was so dark brown it was almost black. The sweetness was too much, though, and so Lothiriel took a drink of her tea. It tasted strange, with a bitter, odd taste to it. She forced it down, having drunk far worse during the War of the Ring.

The woman tapped her own chest, and said: "Tiphanie," then pointed to Lothiriel with a questioning look. Lothiriel supposed she was asking for her name.

"Lothiriel," she said, tapping her chest.

"Lothiriel," the woman repeated, sounding out the name as though she had never heard the like.

Without warning, a horn call came through the house. Thoughtlessly, Lothiriel set down her cup and stood, being compelled by the call. Gondorian by blood, the call of the horn was a cry for help from a Gondorian and would compel all Gondorans who heard to aid the one blowing the horn. She grabbed the first weapon she could lay hands to, a fireplace poker, and rushed out the door.

Eomer son of Eomund, King of Rohan, jumped as he was approached by a monster. He laid about with his sword, wishing he had a trained war horse, or any horse for that matter, under him. The little monsters were approaching from every angle, making moving a hazard and the path a battlefield. With a deft kick, he sent a monster sprawling, and snatched up its short sword, using it as a long dagger to keep the other creatures at bay with. He screamed a battle cry, and was suddenly joined by a white whirlwind with a long dagger, her long blonde hair streaming loose and a look of fierce glee in her green eyes. His sister was a terror on the battlefield even after all these years.

After their battle was over, they looked about, trying to see who, if anyone, else they knew was here. Then a horn was heard up and down the street. Someone was calling for help. The two siblings ran to aid, laying about with swords and daggers.

Denethor son of Ecthellion was trying to figure out where he was. It was obviously a library of some sort, though why was there a cage in it, and what were the strange boxes on the tables? He looked into some of the cupboards, and found some strange, short jackets, a box that proved to have a great deal of tea in it, and a storage chest for weapons. He was looking over them when he heard the horn-call, and nearly jumped out of his skin for joy. Boromir! He was alive! Somehow, someway, he was alive! It was a father's duty to help his son, and he was not going to fail his eldest son again! He grabbed a sword and belt, buckled it about his waist, thrust a dagger into the belt, and grabbed a sturdy-looking axe before rushing out the door.

Until he got to the doors to the outside. He couldn't figure out how to get out, so he simply smashed one of the ridiculously-expensive-looking glass panes and lea pt out of the building before tearing down the street in the direction the horn was calling from.

Cordelia, Princess of England and Queen of France, was surrounded. Small... things were attacking her, and though she had been on battlefields, she was not well equiped to deal with a fight at the moment. She kicked, hit, scratched, even bit once or twice until she decided the creature's blood might be poisonous. Beside her was what looked like a wealthy merchant girl with long red hair and a fair complexion plus a very fiery nature. The words that were pouring out of the red-head's mouth weren't any language Cordelia knew, but they certainly sounded rather scathing. They were losing until the man in velvets and silks came up and scattered the creatures. He talked with the red-head, using her language... or maybe she spoke his... it didn't matter at the moment... and stayed with both women until the horn sounded. He rushed them to the nearest dwelling, and knocked on the door.

"Good sir," Cordelia began as the door opened. "Please allow my companion and myself shelter until the battle is won."

"Certainly, miss. Come right in, all of you." The man in velvet nodded to the three people, turned, and ran.

Faramir son of Denethor was standing on the grass beside a large tree when he heard a woman scream. He ran to the aid of two women who were being attacked by a large hoard of... things. He kicked a creature, knocking its primitave sword out of its grasp, picked it up, and ran a few of them through before aquiring a second sword and defeating the group of... things. The red-haired woman was using enough profanity to make a sailor blush.

"Who are you?" he asked her bluntly.

"Nariel daughter of Belegar of Ithilien, my lord," she answered with a curtsy, her flame-colored head down. He had met Belegar several times, a merchant who traded with Rhun and other far-off places, though he had never met his wife or daughter.

"Your father would be proud of you," he said simply before getting her and the dark-haired noblewoman, who didn't speak any languages he was familiar with, though it souded like she spoke at least ten, off of the path and onto the grass.

Then, he heard it. The call of the Horn of Gondor. He looked in the direction the sound came from, and escorted the two women to the nearest dwelling. The man who answered the door was able to speak with the foreign woman, though, and he left Nariel with her, sprinting down the street towards his brother.

As he reached the place where the horn had been coming from, he found a large number of creatures being flung about by Boromir and a newly-arrived Eowyn and Eomer. He took the place beside his wife, beating the little monsters away. Then, he saw Lothiriel, stainding on the grass, looking shocked and uncertain. Faramir hauled a demon away from Boromir's side, and decapitated a full-sized one that dissolved into dust. For a few moments, there was nothing but shouts, the clash of arms and armor, and the yells of the warriors and the monsters. Then, a long sword joined in, and Faramir turned to find his other side bieng covered by his father. It made no sense to him that both Boromir and Denethor were alive now, but he didn't care. As long as they were with him, that was all that mattered.

They finished off the fight with a shout, then moved to the green where Denethor grabbed Boromir in a tight hug. Then, completely astounding the younger brother, pulled Faramir into the embrace as well, wetting both of his children with tears.

"You're alive, both of you," he rasped. "I am so happy you are alive. Both of you. Faramir, I should never have treated you as I did," he said, hugging his younger son to him tighter and kissing his hair.

"Father, the past is the past," Boromir said, moving his arm so he could embrace Faramir as well. They could hear Eomer and Lothiriel talking. Faramir disengaged from his father and brother to bring Eowyn over.

"Father, Boromir, please meet my wife, Eowyn daughter of Eomund."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my daughter," Denethor said, kissing Eowyn on both her cheeks and her forehead.

"I was over North until I heard Boromir's horn," Faramir said. "There were two women who I was helping. I left them in a dwelling near there." He led his family down the path to the correct dwelling, knocked on the door, and found both the foreign woman and Nariel, who introduced herself and the other woman as Cordelia of France and England, wherever those places were. The two of them seemed to have become friends in the short time during the battle. They found an abandoned dwelling, and, realizing they all needed sleep, told the women to rest, which was almost a battle in and of itself for Eowyn, and the men decided to sleep in shifts. Boromir took the first shift, followed by Denethor, then Eomer and the final shift by Faramir.

Celebwen Telcontar: Did you like it?

Balrog: It was okay. Here. (Gives Celebwen a wad of burned paper and tarnished, semi-melted metal)

Celebwen Telcontar: What's this?

Barlog: It's for the curtains.

Celebwen Telcontar: Is this supposed to be money? (Looks at money) It's from different times and places. I can't use this! Besides, its ruined! Forget the blasted curtain. People, please read adn review. It will help me get a new curtain.

CT

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