Chapter Four: In which our heroine discovers that smoking is bad for your lungs

Question: What’s the difference between a violist and a terrorist?
Answer: Terrorists have sympathizers.

The next morning, we all woke up with varying degrees of hangovers. I'd eaten much and drunk less than most, so I was the most able to focus on the task at hand. Drew and the mayor had not only imbibed to excess, but had ended up having a little fun with a couple of the elf males. I didn't expect to see them for quite a while. That left Kit and me to talk things over and decide on a plan. Kit wanted a smoke, so we were out on the back porch of the elf king's palace, she with a coffee and her last remaining cigarette (and good riddance, once they were gone) and me with a plate of bacon, eggs, sausages, peameal bacon, and crispy home fries.

"So where to next?" I mused aloud. "The elf king said in order to get home, we had to all go together, and we had to take the rock with us, but he didn't say how!"

"Maybe you need a lift?"

The voice came from the woods to our left. As one, we turned to face it, and found ourselves looking at the hugest reptilian face I'd ever seen. Kit's mouth dropped open, and her cigarette nearly fell to the ground. She caught it just in time.

"What are you doing?" the dragon asked her.

"Smoking," she replied. "What's the matter? Never seen someone smoke before?"

The dragon stared (at least I think it did—I didn't really notice any difference in its expression, it just paused for a moment) and then started to laugh so hard it fell over. "You call that smoking?" he roared. "You pathetic imitator! This is smoking!" And the dragon proceeded to belch out a cloud of soot and ash so thick we were soon rendered helpless on the ground, coughing and choking.

"Ashes!" The elf king's voice, magnified a thousand times, roared from somewhere nearby. "What have I told you about smoking in the house?"

The dragon immediately stopped belching, but the damage was done, and it took nearly half an hour for the cloud to disperse.

When the air and my lungs were finally clear enough for me to speak, I said, "Ashes? Is that your name?"

The dragon nodded. "I am Ashes, son of Smaug the Mighty!" he said proudly.

Great! And he likely had a chip on his shoulder the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza because his Old Man got offed by a human. I chose to ignore his lineage, hoping it wouldn't come up again. "Did you say something about a lift? I don't know where we're going at the moment, but wherever we go, a lift would be mighty handy, if you were really offering."

"I was offering," the dragon told me, obviously somewhat piqued because I refused to say anything about his sire. "Old pointy ears here caught me trying to raid his herds, and as punishment he put out my fire and bonded me to serve him for a thousand years. He thought that if I gave you a lift, it would be the most expedient way of getting rid of you. By the way, is that a viola case you're carrying?"

"Yeah. Viola case, violin case—what does it matter?"

"Violin cases can carry either violins or sawed off shotguns. Viola cases, on the other hand, might carry violas, and if there's a viola in that case, I'd rather not hear it played, thank you very much!"

"Gees! Picky, picky. Remember this, lizard brain. You act up on our flight, and I'll start playing. You take us where we're going, no troubles, and the viola stays in the case. Deal?"

"Deal!" the dragon said, before I could add more demands. "Now where is it exactly that I'm going to take you?"

"That's the question, isn't it. I know we're in Mirkwood. I know we have to get back to Toronto. But there's no map connecting the two."

"Perhaps you should seek out the Lady of the Golden Wood?"

"You mean Galadriel's come back?" A wide grin split my face, and I wondered if the real Galadriel looked anything like Cate Blanchett.

"If you think Thranduil got bored back in the Blessed Realms, think of how bad it was for Galadriel. She's always been a go-getter, and meddles in things that aren't any of her concern. Thranduil came back of his own free will. Galadriel got kicked out, for trying to get the maiar to play violas in tune or something."

"She really sounds like my kind of woman!" I said. "And does she still have that nifty mirror? I wouldn't mind a peek of what's going on at home."