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March 27th, 2009: Serafina's Lover
Like many kerfuffles on The Shelf, the next one was also my fault. Everyone had settled down, despite the occasional undercurrent of disgruntlement (Anna and Elizabeth still awkwardly avoiding each other, Eowyn yearning for Edward's tiny broodsomeness, Faramir yearning for Eowyn to get a clue), and I, like a dumbass, had to go and say something. Galadriel was off reading Lyra a bedtime story (Island of the Blue Dolphins, only somewhat retold to include a very cold island and a polar bear), and Serafina was combing her hair over on my pile of research books, as she does (it gets tangly with all that flying around), and I looked over and deadpanned, "So, you picked out that lover yet?"
Yeah. Serafina's sartorial nonchalance had already led to some concern (female as well as Edwardian) around The Shelf. And while she just laughed and said, "No, I'm still browsing," Edward--with his super-sensitive sparklepire ears--heard us, and so he ran straight to Galadriel and snitched.
"I am only concerned for her safety," he insisted. "Given that I am prone to dazzling the fairer sex, and [he lowered his voice to a level mere tinyfont cannot represent] you know what a dangerous, intemperate monster I am. My urges cannot be controlled! My incredible speed, my overwhelming strength--she can fly, but she could never escape!"
"I'll make your concerns known," Galadriel assured him. (There's no telling if he was afraid the shameless Serafina might strip him of his virtue, or hoping, or afraid that he was hoping. With the Littlest Edward, any neurosis is possible.) So of course Galadriel then came straight to me, mostly to laugh (gently) at Edward. "Can you imagine? Poor deluded thing. I mean, he is a very handsome boy but--he's a third her size!" And there I am over at my desk facepalming. Because of course it was all over The Shelf by the next day.
Faramir Two, of course, was particularly indignant when Serafina's eyes lingered over Fugagorn (who was, at that moment, helping White Arwen down from her perch on the window sill): "If I can refrain from breaking them up, she can too!" I suspect he went over to compliment Serafina on her drapery then just to distract her, quite honestly.
(Note: That is not the famous roll of felt. The Roll of Felt can actually be seen here on his belt.
No, over there by his sword sheath. No, over there. Yeah. That little tiny bit.)
Purple Arwen, meanwhile, was concerned for her own Aragorn: "Queenly brunette in purple? Why, I have no idea why he might find her attractive," she snipped. "HUSSY."
Indeed, there was a general consensus among the women and Edward that Serafina should "put it away," but Serafina didn't care: "If I were more fully clothed, I could not feel the soft glow of the overhead light, or the hum of the hard drive, or the brisk chill of the air conditioner."
"Yeah, well--you watch out for Arwen. Don't piss her off anywhere near large bodies of water. And be careful around the blonde one, she's a hair-puller."
So Serafina was a bit mystified when Eowyn marched up to the file cabinet the next day, shoving a bewildered Faramir One before her with the air of both a child determined to rip off a Band-Aid and a woman laying her firstborn on the sacrificial altar. "This is Faramir," she announced.
"I am... pleased to be informed of this."
They all stared at each other for a moment.
"Faramir, son of Denethor," he added nervously. "Ranger of the forests of Ithilien. Probably prince as well already, I'll have to check with Aragorn--"
Eowyn smacked him in the shoulder.
Serafina regarded them curiously, but with calm. "I am Serafina Pekkala. Queen of the Witches of Lake Enara. As I'm sure you have heard." She bowed her head.
Faramir gave her a few bobbly nods.
"Is that it, then? Is everyone thoroughly introduced?"
Faramir and Serafina looked at each other, and then they looked at her, and then they looked back at each other. Serafina reached down to shake Faramir's hand. Faramir shook it and bobbled some more. They looked back at Eowyn.
"Thanks for your time!" she cried, and hustled Faramir off as ignominiously as they had come. "He's safe!" she gasped, running to me. "She saw him and nothing happened!"
Ohhhh. "E, honey, it's not like imprinting at first sight. She's not, like, a duck or a werewolf or something. Witches take lots of different lovers, I'm sure. She could change her mind at any time."
Eowyn looked like I'd just told her there was no Santa Claus. Or whatever they have in Rohan. Santa Eorl, I don't know.
"Look, I'm sure it'll work out all right," I told her, without the least bit of actual confidence. It finally just got to the point where I went to Serafina myself: "Look, I know this is just something witches do, so no hard feelings, but--if you're going to do this, just kill the suspense and do it. It's going to end badly no matter what happens, so we might as well get on with it." I paused. "But I'm warning you--you make a move on Fug and I'll kick your ass myself."
She laughed. "Fair enough. I've decided anyway. I want him," she said, and pointed across the room to Faramir.
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