The Thurber Hypothesis
Or
A Funny Thing Happened
on the Way to Imladris
By Capella
Six
Giles
put the phone down gently and let his hand rest on it for a moment as he shut
his eyes and considered the details of the conversation. He should be overjoyed for Legolas. Miranda had been careful to spell out her
caveats, but all in all the prognosis was positive;
the elf stood an excellent chance of returning home by the end of the
week. Good news indeed. If he could only quell the rising sense of
despair, the almost physical pain he felt at the thought of the elf’s
departure, he might be able to share in his guest’s happiness.
He
stood for a moment just watching Legolas, letting himself believe that the elf was temporarily
unaware of his scrutiny. As usual,
Legolas had put on the headphones when Giles rose to answer the phone. He sat now with his eyes closed, the slight
rhythmic swaying of his head indicating his absorption in the music, the smile
curving his lips evidence of his enjoyment.
As Giles stared in helpless fascination the CD apparently came to an
end; Legolas shifted in his seat with a sigh and opened his eyes. Turning to his host as he took the headphones
off, he said simply, “It
is sublime.”
J.S.
Bach, the double violin concerto. The
elf had shown great enthusiasm for most of the works in Giles’s collection,
from early plainsong to ‘70’s blues-based rock, from Andean pipe music to rich
flamenco guitar, Haydn quartets to Shostakovich symphonies; but time and again
he returned to Bach, loving, as he put it, ‘the clarity, the simplicity at the
heart of the beauty.’
Giles
took a deep breath and joined his guest at the table. The detritus of the week’s activities had
been pushed at one end into neat piles of books, magazines, sketches and
tapes. An upended bicycle still graced
the centre of the room, and a collection of parts from old flashlights and
motorised toys sat on a tray along with the meters and magnets which
“It was
Miranda,” he began, settling into the chair across from Legolas.
“Yes.” The elf sat very still.
“She
will be here by Tuesday. It seems very
likely that she will be able to help you, to send you home.”
There
was no cry of joy, no laughter or exclamation in
response to this announcement. Legolas
simply nodded, smiling a little in a solemn fashion.
“You
must be happy,” Giles
prompted.
“Of course. But ‘very
likely’ does not mean ‘certain,’” the elf said succinctly, his face still
serious.
“You’re
probably right to be circumspect.
However, I doubt that there will be any problems. The process, it seems, depends very much on
you and how strong a sense you have of the place and time you came from. I told Miranda that in that respect working
with an elf would make her job easier than usual.”
Legolas
relaxed a little and his smile broadened.
“It is true that my memory is somewhat different from that of a human,”
he allowed. “If I still myself
completely and bring my thoughts to a focus, every one of my senses will be
filled with the forest of my home.”
“Indeed,”
said Giles dryly, trying hard to appear positive. “Well, we can only wait and see, but I think
Miranda will get you back there. She’s
looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I to making the acquaintance of such a powerful sorcerer.”
Giles
glanced round the room, imagining how empty it would look once Legolas was
gone, and all the educational materials returned to their rightful places. He was aware that he was being watched
closely by his companion.
“Do not
imagine that my joy will be untainted by regret.” The elf’s voice was gentle. “This time with you – and all that you are
teaching me – is a great gift.”
“I
think I’m learning more than I’m teaching,” Giles replied. It was so true. His apt, intelligent pupil was every
teacher’s dream, leading him to see his own knowledge in a new light and
divulging all sorts of fascinating detail about the real Middle Earth in the
process. If he could only write a book
of all that Legolas had told him, what a revelation it would be to Tolkien fans
everywhere! If there were no copyright
issues to be considered . . . it would
seem criminally selfish to keep the information to himself, even if he would
have to pass it off as fiction. Perhaps
when all this was over he would have a serious talk with
“If you
have the stomach for it, I would dearly like to continue with this.” Legolas interrupted his daydream, indicating
the encyclopaedia that lay open to show an exploded diagram of a helicopter. “The fact that I may only have three more
days here lends a certain urgency to my studies.”
The
elf’s eagerness was enough to break his heart; he couldn’t stop his face
betraying his dismay.
“What
is wrong? Do not fear - I have no
intention of unleashing the terrors of your technology on my own unready
world,” said Legolas. “Although I shall not be able to resist conducting my own
investigations to see if the same natural laws are at work in both universes, I
give you my word that I shall do so in absolute secrecy.”
“It’s
not that,” Giles fought back the urge to lean across the table and lay a hand
on the elf’s arm. “Legolas, there is
something you must understand about your return home. You will not -” he sighed, then began
again. “In order to get you back safely,
Miranda will have to return you to the exact time and place that you came
from. It will be a temporal shift, as
well as a spatial one.”
“But my
memory . . .?”
“As far
as you are concerned, this time will not have existed at all. You will remember nothing, since there will
be nothing for you to remember.”
The elf
was silent for a long while. His face
showed no disappointment, just an unfathomable blankness. At last he asked quietly, “And you?”
“There
will be no change to our reality here. I
assure you, I shall remember everything.”
Again
there was silence while Giles searched for something appropriate to say. He was a complete fool not to have realised
from the start that this was how it would be.
And quite right too, in the grand cosmic scheme of things. The only cause for surprise was the fact that
he’d be able to hang onto his own memories of this whole astonishing encounter.
Legolas
blinked once and smiled gravely at him.
“It is no doubt for the best,” he said softly. He slid the encyclopaedia across the table and
stared down at it for a moment before lifting his head and meeting Giles’s eyes
again. “In any case, I have no wish to
discontinue our arrangement,” he went on.
“I shall simply enjoy the knowledge for its own sake; and you shall
remember for both of us.”
Something
about the way the elf said this made the blood rush to Giles’s head. He didn’t trust himself to comment in
response. Oh, he would remember alright. He avoided looking at Legolas as he reached for
the pencil and notepad. Clearing his
throat discreetly he willed himself to calm down, and prepared to launch back
into the technological miracle of flight.
The
afternoon passed pleasurably, with the conversation soon flowing freely once
again. From the principle of the
aerofoil and the jet engine they moved on to twentieth century human history
and a lengthy discussion of power politics in post-war Gondor. They listened to some mesmerising Moroccan
music and finally watched a video about the works of Michelangelo.
It
proved to be an interesting choice.
“The
sculptures are remarkable,” said Legolas thoughtfully. “Such energy in the stone, and such
sensuality too – I do not believe that I have seen its like, and nor shall I
again. Tell me, was Michelangelo a lover
of men?”
Giles
spluttered in his tea. “Yes,
indeed. It is documented fact, although
not all television programmes would choose to mention it.”
“Why not? How can one
understand the artist without some knowledge of his personal passions?” The elf narrowed his eyes. “Is such love deemed unacceptable in your
society?”
Of all
the possible subjects for discussion, this would be the last one he would
choose. “Yes and no,” he said. “Things have changed for the better and such
prejudice is widely challenged, but there are still plenty of people who firmly
believe that same sex relationships of an, um, intimate nature, are quite
wrong.”
“Then
you are not so very different from the men of my world,” Legolas replied,
evenly.
“And
elves?” The question had to be
asked. He tried to keep his tone of
voice neutral, that of the calmly interested scholar.
“We
celebrate love in all its forms. My
people are more concerned with self discipline and fidelity than with the
actual choice of partner.” There seemed
to be a trace of rueful sadness behind the elf’s words.
Luckily,
Legolas did not seem keen to pursue the topic further. As if by agreement, they moved swiftly on to a
comparison of the human Renaissance period and the elven Second Age.
Later
that evening they stood together in the kitchen, continuing the conversation
while they prepared a meal. Legolas
worked swiftly, the kitchen knife flashing rather alarmingly in his hand as he
nimbly peeled and diced a pan of carrots.
Giles, scrubbing potatoes at the sink, watched from the corner of his
eye and thought of Buffy’s natural flair with weapons of all descriptions. It was a great shame that Legolas was not
free to patrol with her. She would have
learned from him, and had a rare opportunity to share the burden of her
calling. Of course, her loss was Giles’s
gain.
It
seemed that Legolas’s thoughts were also straying. “It is an intriguing situation, is it
not?” He paused in his work and held the
knife up before him, twirling it rapidly between his palms to catch the
light. “Whatever deeds I may commit
here, when I return to my own world it will be as if I have done nothing. There will be no memory, no satisfaction, no remorse. It poses
an interesting moral question, to my mind.”
“Which
is?” With some difficulty, Giles took
his eyes from the spinning blade in order to pay attention to the elf’s odd
expression.
“Supposing
I were to commit some act, some misdeed – a murder,
for instance. Upon returning to my
world, would I be guilty of the crime, or not?”
Legolas
was now flicking the knife in a figure of eight pattern by some rapid trick of
his fingers. His eyes never left the
blade as he spoke and Giles found it impossible not to follow suit. He wondered briefly how many years of
practice it had taken for the elf to develop such agility.
“You
would be guilty, but you would not know it,” he said. “You would live out your days as an innocent
man – elf – and there would be nobody to tell you differently. The only question, I suppose, is whether your
gods would know what you had done, whether they would judge you.”
“My gods!” Legolas
threw the knife, spinning, into the air, caught it deftly and set it down on
the chopping board before turning to Giles.
His face was serious, and in his eyes there was something ancient and
sorrowful. “My gods have already judged
me, I fear.”
Giles
regarded him speechlessly for a moment.
This was something he had never thought to see: a glimpse of the true
emotional depths beneath the elf’s smoothly composed exterior. His spine started to prickle as he wondered
what further mysteries the elf was concealing What terrible thing had he done to
lead to such bitterness? There was no
way he could ask, and any words of comfort he could come up with would only
seem trite.
He
opted for levity. “Well, I sincerely
hope that it is Spike you are planning to do away with. I cannot imagine that the gods of any
universe would hold that against you.”
To his
relief, his comment drew a laugh from Legolas.
“Do not worry, Rupert. I am not
intending to kill anyone, not even Spike, although the idea is strangely
tempting. It was merely a hypothetical
question and I
did not mean to alarm you.”
“You
didn’t alarm me,” Giles lied quickly. “I
could hardly have taken you seriously.”
It was
easy to say the words, but he knew quite well that he would be awake half the
night seeing that haunted look in the elf’s eyes. He would give a great deal to know what lay
behind it. If only he could ask Legolas
directly what had happened to cause him such pain. If only they had more time.
To be
continued…
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