This one comes with thanks to Sarah, who wrote a chunk. I can't do wizards, she can't do Granny Weatherwax (though none of them are in this bit.) The really sad Tolkien fan (I think that's me) will recognise the method of indicating who wrote what.

Lost? See N1 and N2, far down in the depths of old Fforum entries.


CHAPTER TWELVEN
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“You’re always of two minds about everything.”

Val Kilmer’s ‘Batman’ to Tommy Lee Jones’ ‘Two-Face’,
‘Batman Forever’.
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Minsky was reading a passage describing Rivendell, which gave him license to jump into any part of it. He was unsure whether orienting on Sarah would be a good idea, as she might not be herself enough to be identifiable. So he and Klinsmann appeared in Rivendell right in front of Legolas.

Squirdle was still riding around on Legolas’ shoulder. The one-inch demon recognized Klinsmann immediately, and hid behind Legolas’ ear. “I should come out with that ginger dybbuk around, already?” he protested.

Klinsmann just washed his paws and looked innocent; but Legolas knew the difference between ‘innocent’ and ‘evil being very good at looking innocent’, so he politely suggested Klinsmann would be welcome at the kitchens, cats being a novelty in Rivendell. Klinsmann said he had intended to go there anyway, which is cat for “I’m not going anywhere because I’ve been told to.”

As soon as Klinsmann had gone round a corner, a dainty rich brown cat that looked as if it was black appeared from under the bush it had been hiding in.

“Diesel!” swooned Minsky.

“My darrrling!” sighed Diesel. They rubbed together as cats will. They had not seen each other since Minsky last came back from Rivendell, when Dave had seen them together in Sarah’s garden. Legolas laughed.

“So you are re-united. Two half-cats in the house of the Half-Elven. Some would say it was well-omened.” Legolas had got to know them both whilst doing work for Jurisfiction; the couple had an uncanny knack of meeting up anywhere in literature.

“It is such a pity you smell of that gingerrr creaturrre,” miaowed Diesel, ignoring Legolas. “Did you have to bring him?”

“There is hope in it,” replied her would be lover. “He can travel in time. Perhaps it will be possible for us to retrieve --- what we have lost --- with his help.” Minsky hated the description ‘half-cat’. He had felt much less than half himself since the operation, but reckoned he was still twice as good a cat as any other moggy he had met.

Diesel was excited, and purred, “That is good. But we would still have to find somewherrre we could live with our mistressesses.”

“Why do you continue to live with her when she never lets you out?” asked Minsky gruffly. “Now that the landlord has taken away the cat ladder, you live like a princess in a dark tower; let me elope with you! Do not stay for her sake. Why be forced to listen to 1950’s popular music?”

“But she is ill,” mewed Diesel. “I cannot leave herrr without company, even if I would do so otherwise.”

Minsky sighed, and realised he would end up sounding like Dave if he carried on. “Perhaps there is a time, a place, a story somewhere where we may be together…”

Diesel rubbed up against him again, and purred affectionately.

“Darling,” began Minsky.

“Prrrrrrrrrr?” replied Diesel.

“I - I have to tell you - I was genetically engineered.”

“But of course you werrre.”

“You knew?”

“You are the ultimate cat, the rrrreal cat. I have always thought it mussst be so.”

“And my brother ---“

“Chommmsky.”

“They took all the good bits of DNA out of two sets, and made me. Chomsky was the stuff left over.”

“Ahhh.”

“If I ever --- find out who did the job --- I’ll thank them so much ---“

“Of courrrrse. Just like a rrreal cat.”

They rubbed up against each other again. Sarah had had the job done for her, and rightly judged that telling Minsky would temper the insufferable pride he had affected as a kitten. What she hadn’t done was tell Klinsmann he was the best bits of him and Heidi, as in his case he would be even more insufferable for knowing. Sarah had wanted two completely different ‘ultimate cats’. Minsky was the ultimate dominant cat, Klinsmann the ultimate insufferable pain in the neck (lovable pain in the neck, in Sarah’s opinion). Too principled to abandon the other lives that had been created to suit her purposes, too caring to abandon the left-overs, she had ended up with Dave’s living nightmare, her heaven; four differently insane cats. Diesel was the only other talking cat Minsky knew, and he would settle for nothing less. Klinsmann didn’t care; he would happily rape anything --- cats, dogs, trams ---. Sarah had had all four neutered as kittens on account of Klinsmann’s insatiable appetites; from her point of view, it wouldn’t be fair to neuter only one of them. Naturally Klinsmann was hated as a result of this, and loved every minute of it - though he couldn’t remember why.

Diesel had to leave; she could tell that her stricken mistress was stirring from sleep in her own time stream. Miaowing a fond farewell, she jumped forward and up, seeming to fold herself inside out, and disappeared. Legolas stared, though he had seen it before.

“It’s not normal book jumping,” mewed Minsky. “We don’t really know how she does it.”

Squirdle now felt he could come out. “Right! Now all that soppy stuff is over, have I got something to show you!” He danced excitedly on Legolas’ shoulder. Disconcertingly, he tended to look like he was holding a trident in one hand as he did so. “I owe Sarah one, with interest. Come with us to the Council, and we’ll see if my ruse has worked.”

Legolas was already on his way there, so it did not take long to arrive. When they got there, they found Elrond enthroned on his dais, with Jane Hardly-Decent before him in the infernal boiler suit. Arwen stood beside Elrond, holding a tiny pendant. Avalon and Attagirl were also in attendance.

“Ah, Minsky,” said Elrond gravely. “It is good that you are here.” Minsky bowed as best a cat can, having first made sure that Klinsmann was not there to see it happening. Then he sat down, and spoke.

“I have come at the request of ---“ he looked at Attagirl for a moment --- “Dave of Rubach, to see if there has been any progress in Sarah’s case.” He looked venomously at Jane, who he regarded as being at fault in the matter.

“Then you have come aright,” quoth Elrond. He was beginning to get into a quothing mood again after a morning’s work for Jurisfiction in ‘The Flower Fairies’. “My daughter, present the charm.” Arwen did a double take, then curtsied and held the pendant where Jane Hardly-Decent could inspect it. “It has been prepared with the assistance of --- Squirdle,” Elrond gravely announced. He spoke the alien sounding name with displeasure, as he was typically Elvish about beauty in language. “Will you, Jane, take this thing?”

“You think it will turn me back into Sarah Goode-Evans?” asked Jane.

Elrond looked at her with compassion. “We cannot tell. Our friend --- Squirdle --- believes that it will control the fluxes of chance ---“

“Laws of probability!” protested Squirdle.

“--- which cause your almost continual embarrassments ---“ he glanced reproachfully at Arwen, who blushed and looked at the floor. Then he sighed, and said, “--- for any part in which my daughter has played, I take responsibility, and pardon her. My apologies for any part of mine in your discomfiture.”

“And I promise not to mention the star of Earendil,” said Jane, firmly.

“Star of Earendil?” queried Minsky, who didn’t know about Elrond’s boxer shorts.

“Nobody’s supposed to know about it,” mouthed Avalon, then realized that she wasn’t supposed to know about it either, and pressed her hand to her mouth in embarrassment at what she had said. Attagirl looked serenely at a stone stand, and wondered why it was here when it wasn’t in the book. Avalon knew very well that under this queenly exterior, on another, deeper level, Attagirl was, basically, wetting herself at her sister’s expense. In a moment of annoyance, she kicked Attagirl’s shin, and to everyone else’s’ astonishment, Attagirl collapsed in a heap before Elrond’s dais, gagging for breath and beating the floor. Days of repressed laughter had burst to the surface. Avalon looked at the floor, Elrond looked at the sky, Arwen went pink and stared into space, and Minsky looked quizzically at Legolas, who wore the gravest smile anywhere in literature.

Elrond went on looking at the sky as he continued, probably because he didn’t want to find out what was going through the minds of the others at the council.

“We cannot tell if it will turn you into Sarah or not,” said Elrond, talking as if he was having to spit out boulders. “As an Elf I am bound to say that it either will or it won’t. However as a Jurisfiction rep,” he continued, looking down and almost nutting Attagirl as she got up, resulting in her collapsing in giggles again, “I feel it right to say that you are not in your normal role here, Jane Hardly-Decent, and that if Sarah does return to control of this body, it may be that you will be transported to a story in which you are more at home.”

“Oh,” said Jane.

“Will you, then, accept this? I must have an answer from Jane, not from Sarah, in this matter.”

Jane thought hard about it. “Well, I am running out of silk stockings,” she said rather lamely. “And I am quite distracted by having to wear this boiler suit. It’s not only the least feminine thing a girl ever had to wear, it’s practically translucent, and I’ve run out of white underwear!” She paused, and then suddenly turned to Legolas, mouthing words she did not want to say, and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“Stand back,” ordered Elrond. “The two of them are in discussion. Let none interfere.”

Eventually the boiler-suited figure rose, and slowly said, “I accept the pendant.”

“Is that the decision of you both?” asked Elrond.

“Yes,” said Sarah. “For now,” insisted Jane. “We will be Sarah-Jane for our mutual benefit until we can get a better resolution,” said Sarah-Jane.

Elrond looked at her intently, and waited a few moments so as to seem more kingly. “So be it,” he decided, and motioned to Arwen to present the pendant to Sarah-Jane.

It was in the form of a tiny entroposcope. Squirdle, realising that Jane’s problems were basically a matter of bad luck built into her character, had suggested making a small entroposcope, shaking it until well mixed, and then pouring in clear glue. Elvish craftsmen had made it, and now it was presented to Sarah-Jane on a silver chain. She looked at it closely, and frowned.

“Why does it say, ‘a present from Rivendell’?” she enquired.

Elrond sighed. “Next time I see Mrs Nakajima, I really must make it clear to her that there can be no more of this.”

Sarah-Jane accepted this as explanation, and tremulously put on the entroposcope.

Nothing happened.

“You may now receive your dresses,” said Elrond, waving his hand toward a side room. Arwen was way ahead of him, and led Sarah-Jane away to get changed. Avalon followed enthusiastically, and Attagirl followed with a sigh that was almost a snort, more to keep an eye on her sister than because of any interest in fancy clothing. She was itching to give Avalon a piece of her mind about her loss of dignity. Trouble was, due to Avalon’s foresight, she always seemed to know what you were going to say, which took all the satisfaction out of having a sisterly go at her.

“And now, Master Elrond, our little guest has his own petition to present,” grinned Legolas.

“You bet. My fear of cats, this is what I want sorting out,” squeaked Squirdle, looking sidelong at Minsky, and cringing. Klinsmann was an untrustworthy monster from Squirdle’s point of view, but Minsky, though more awesome to him, was predictable and did not have Klinsmann’s evil sense of humour. Squirdle could just about cope with being in his presence.

Elrond frowned. “Despite your appearance of evil, master Squirdle, you have served honourably in Rivendell. We are in your debt, and would be glad to assist.” He thought for a while. “It is more usual to drive demons out of things, rather than things out of demons. But since the --- execrable film ---“ he sighed deeply “--- there is a precedent in Middle Earth for deliverance; Theoden. Let us see what can be done with a ring of power.” He rose, and walked towards the stone stand, trying not to let his dignity be ruffled by having to put up with its presence. Well, it wasn’t in the book, and it constantly reminded him of the film, but it did have its uses.

Legolas approached the stand, and put Squirdle down upon it. Minsky stood close by, lashing his tail. Elrond brought out the ring that was kept hidden from all but the most trusted of Elvendom, but could be revealed to anyone who had read the book, as they could scarcely fail to know that he was in charge of it. He stretched out his hand towards Squirdle, with the ring in full view. Legolas toyed with a green stone in his pocket, hoping it would bring Squirdle luck - or better probabilities. Gimli had given it to him, saying it was dwarvishly enchanted. But then he had the eyes of a bat and the brains of a pigeon - or was it the other way round?

Squirdle put his head on one side and squinted at Elrond’s ring with interest. “Now that must be worth a few shekels,” he observed. Legolas suppressed a grin.

“It is beyond price,” replied Elrond gravely. The temptation to roll his eyes heavenward was almost irresistible. “Yet if you can look at it without flinching, it proves the evil has already departed from your soul, for no evil creature can look long upon one of the Three.”

Squirdle gave a massive shrug. “I got bored with being evil,” he confessed. “It’s no fun already. Except the bit with the centipedes, obviously.”

Elrond stared. “Forgive me, Master Squirdle. I am not sure that I understand you correctly.”

“He tortures centipedes,” explained Minsky, in tones of mild contempt which suggested that if anyone was going to bother torturing anything, centipedes were extremely small fry.

“Yeah,” confirmed Squirdle rather sourly, “but it’s been a long time.”

Elrond fixed the little demon with a keen gaze. “In order to be healed, Master Squirdle, you must renounce all intention of evil. That, I fear, includes the torture of centipedes. Are you willing to do so?”

Squirdle shuffled uneasily on his stone stand. “Er … do I get any help?” he asked. “It’s just that I’ve never heard of any group called, you know, Centipede Torturers Anonymous or whatever.”

“Substitute,” suggested Minsky.

Elrond considered several possible means of saying “What?” which might be appropriate to his position and dignity, rejected all of them, and finally settled for giving the cat an enquiring look.

Minsky gave his tail a delicate wash. “When humans are trying to give up smoking,” he explained, “they often chew gum or eat a lot of sweets, to make it easier for them to withdraw. What we need is a centipede substitute to help Squirdle get over his affliction.”

Legolas grinned from ear to ear. “Why, there is nothing easier!” he cried. “I will go and ask my friend Gimli, for it is well known that the Dwarves are greatly skilled in such works of craft. He has the tools of a horse and the strength of a blacksmith. Er ---”

“You mean,” asked Squirdle slowly, “I get my very own fake centipede to play with?”

“You mean,” countered Minsky, “you didn’t actually understand all that?”

“Gevalt!” muttered Squirdle, but nonetheless he looked far from displeased.

“Of course,” added Legolas quickly, “this is only on condition that you cease to torture any living centipede.”

“All right, all right, I promise, I promise!” exclaimed Squirdle, who knew a good deal when he saw one. “My own fake centipede and no more fear of cats. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Elrond cleared his throat very gently to recapture the initiative. “You are resolved on this, Master Squirdle?” he asked.

“Didn’t I just say that?” demanded the imp, hands on hips.

Elrond nodded gravely. “Very good. Then come, my friend, and lay your hand upon this ring.”

A little nervously, Squirdle extended a tiny hand and touched the stone of Elrond’s Ring of Power. Elrond began to murmur some Elvish words under his breath. The ring, and Squirdle, seemed to be bathed in a soft blue light of unearthly beauty. Then, moments later, it was over.

“Test,” said Minsky matter-of-factly. “Bring him down here, Legolas, if you don’t mind.”

Legolas let go of the green stone, and held out his hand. Squirdle nervously stepped onto it. Legolas lowered the tiny figure onto the back of the waiting Minsky. For a moment or two the little demon stepped up and down gingerly in the rich tabby fur. There was dead silence. Then Minsky suddenly began to purr. Squirdle looked excited, and grabbed hold of Minsky’s flea collar. “I like this,” purred Minsky. “The only cat with a personal demon rider. The prestige!”

“I’ll settle for ‘miniature entity’ now, thank you,” squeaked Squirdle. “I should settle for being called a demon when I get to ride on the back of a top moggy? Just think how I’ll be able to sneer at all the other cats!”

“So I do aloof all the better,” enthused Minsky, “and leave sneer to you. Excellent!”

At that moment, Sarah-Jane emerged, looking much happier to be in a proper frock. “I think it’s worked,” she beamed. “My knickers are now my own to enjoy.”

“Sarah’s sense of humour, Jane’s dress sense,” thought Minsky.

Sarah-Jane looked at the cat in fond remembrance. Then she saw Squirdle, and was overjoyed when she heard what had happened. But she had to dash Minsky’s hopes. “I don’t think I can come back to Sheffield, Minsky,” she said understandingly. “We had to compromise. I get to make the decisions - it’s Sarah talking - and Jane gets to choose the clothes. We keep it that way until our common reason for staying here has been resolved, one way or the other. And NOBODY gets to see our - my - knickers.” She paused. “Besides, if I go back to Sheffield dressed like this, no one will think of me as Sarah, anyway.” Minsky could accept that; after all, he wasn’t going to be allowed to rub against the legs of a woman who wore silk stockings.

Sarah-Jane thought for a moment. “When you go back,” she said to Minsky, “I want you to do something for me. You’ll need Dave to help you. But I can’t speak of it in a book. Come here and let me whisper in your ear.” Minsky strolled over, full of self-importance. As he listened, he twitched the end of his tail about in a thoughtful way. Squirdle couldn’t help but overhear, and excitedly asked if he could take part. It was agreed he would stay with Minsky until he came back to Rivendell. The fake centipede would have to wait.

“By the way,” said Sarah-Jane, “tell Dave that anything delivered to Sarah stays in Sheffield, and anything for Jane should be sent to Rivendell.” Released, Minsky and Squirdle went to find Klinsmann.

Avalon approached Elrond’s dais. “We’ve really come about something else,” she urged, and began to talk rapidly to Elrond so as not to be interrupted by Attagirl. Attagirl was on a quite separate errand, and didn’t like her business being labelled as ‘we’. She felt Avalon had deliberately cut her out by doing so. Already annoyed with her sister, she looked around for something else to do until Avalon was through with Elrond, who looked about as embarrassed as an Elf Lord can get. She turned to Sarah-Jane, and thought for a moment. Then she suddenly became excited, in a restrained, regal sort of way, and asked: “Can I have your boiler suit now you don’t need it any longer?”

Sarah-Jane was glad to be rid of it in at least half of her mind, and the other parts were honour bound to abide by the decision, so she went back to it with Attagirl and Arwen. When they emerged, Attagirl was wearing the boiler suit (with suitably thick clothing beneath to negate the translucency). Her hair was in a very efficient looking bun, and she bore a determined expression. In one hand she was carrying a mean looking spear, and in the other the book by Rebecca West that Avalon had taken from the bookstall in Dublin.

“I shall refer the matter to Galadriel,” said Elrond to Avalon, in a very grave and rather ‘final’ way, as regally as he could. Avalon thanked him, and curtsied. Then Elrond looked round to see Attagirl. His eyes on stalks, he said, “You may present your request,” but everyone could see what he really meant was, “Oh bloody hell, WHAT NOW?” Legolas remained there, grinning innocently at Elrond’s discomfiture.

When Minsky and Squirdle found Klinsmann, he was at the centre of a group of adoring Elf-Maidens. As they had never met him before, they had been wholly deceived by ‘the big pussy cat’ routine. Klinsmann just had time to gape at the unexpected sight of Squirdle on the tabby’s back, as Minsky rudely grabbed him by the back of the neck with his fangs, and thought of home.

Later that day, Avalon was brushing her long blonde hair and humming a favourite tune in the small room in Rivendell that she called home. For a moment she stopped dead, and stared into space. Then she began to sing, clear and low, with a far away look in her eyes :

“Once, as my heart remembers,
All the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.”

Then she frowned into the mirror, and with growing puzzlement wondered whom she was supposed to be singing to. It was a hard life having Dunedain foresight; always right about the future, but never knowing the context.