Home, Part 2

* * * * *



“So that's all you want to do? You're sure now. You just want to go home?”

“That's right.”

“Oh come off it. You must want to do something a bit more interesting. Like kill the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“No Dorothy, really. I just want to go home.”

“Besides, the Wicked Witch of the West is already dead, remember? You killed her.”

“I know that Bugs, I was just suggesting that she do something exciting. And for the last time, I didn't kill her. I melted her.”

Bugs rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. Cause there's such a difference.”

Dorothy blushed. “Well, she's still alive and kicking anyway.”

Lamilda snorted. “Only if you consider ghosts to be alive.”

“Ghosts?”

“That's right girl,” Lamilda said. “Once you die here you become a ghost. It's hard to tell the difference. Except ghosts can only go 'where living they have trod before'. It's from an old proverb. Something about keeping people in their own stories.”

“Anyway, back to the real issue. You're sure then Lia? That's all you want to do, just go home?”

“That's right Dorothy. That's it.”

“What's so weird about that? That's all you wanted to do when you first arrived,” Tina said. “Just kept telling everyone who would listen that you weren't in Kansas anymore and that you wanted to go home.”

“Well yes. Because I did. And now I'm a ghost.”

“AHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Oh calm down Lia! It's not like I'm dead! But once someone's been here, if they leave by any means, death counting as one but only one, you leave a ghost behind. But since I'm not dead yet, I can still go anywhere in Home.”

“Anywhere in home? You mean anywhere in Kansas?” Lia asked.

“No no no. Anywhere in Home. Anywhere here.”

“But this isn't home. Home is home.”

“You don't understand. That's the name of the place. Earth is your home, but this place is literally Home. Like Earth is Earth and Kansas is Kansas, Home is Home. Do you understand?”

“Not really, but it doesn't matter.”

“Anyway, back to the point.” That was Trumpkin again. Always the voice of reason. “I say that we appoint a Fellowship of Homeward Journey to get Lia home.”

“But she's already-”

“Home with a lowercase 'h' not a capital, Dorothy. (the 'h' in 'homeward' was only capitalized because it was a proper noun, not because it talked about Home rather than home) I think that Lia needs such a group. Just as you did Dorothy. Just as Frodo did with the ring. Just as Septimus did on his Queste.”

“Septimus?” Lia asked. “Who's he? I've never heard of him.”

“Most people haven't.” (in case you were wondering, though, his story is one that can be read about at any decent library. Just ask for a history on seventh sons of seventh sons. His name should be right at the top of the list.) “But it doesn't matter. But who will undertake this? Who will go with Lia? Who will take this adventure?”

“I will!” That was Dorothy.

“Eh, I'll go, doc.” Bugs.

“You can count me in.” Tina.

“Woof, woof woof!” Toto.

“I guess I have to come. I talked to the Big Man last night and he said if it came down to something like this I had to. So I guess I'm in. Although I'd rather not be.” Lamilda, positive as always.

“I'd like to come, but I can't. Someone's got to watch the house.” Hansel. (Or is it Hansal? Or Hansal? Or maybe Haaaansal...)

“I'd like to come as well, but someone's got to report back to the High King. Now, I would suggest you try to find the Selection of Sorcerers. Miago ought to know where they are. Good luck!”



Their adventure finding the Selection of Sorcerers is so long and involved so many people it would take a lifetime to talk to them all and discover what really happened. Therefore, what I have here is (sort of) a word-for-word account of what Lia (almost) said about what happened next.

“Well, firstly,” she said. “The Selection of Sorcerers itself. As I later learned, they are they only group in existence that includes both Good and BadGuys. And Miago was the local mapmaker. That's why Trumpkin figured he'd know where to find the Selection. Unfortunately when we reached his shop, he told us was temporarily closed while he looked for the scoundrel who took his hundred year old pistol. Bugs suspected Yosemite Sam, so we went after him. When we found him, he confessed, but said he had the pistol hidden and wouldn't return it until we got back his favorite boots, which were stolen by a dwarf. We finally tracked down the dwarf (who claimed his name was Angry) who said he took them to teach Sam a lesson, but would give them back if we could wake up Snow White. Apparently, Prince Charming didn't want to come because he was occupied with all the other young ladies (the casanova) and simply didn't have the time. And when we tracked him down, he refused because he was busyrescuing a damsel with mile-long hair. He said he would come as soon as he killed the dragon that was plaguing the kingdom, though. But we didn't want to wait, so we went on ahead and found the dragon. The dragon agreed to stay away if only we would get back the scale that was stolen from it. After months of looking, we finally found the troll who took it, and the blasted thing promised to give it back, but only if we would get some deadbeat goats to pay him for crossing his bridge. (Personally, I've always doubted whether or not it was actually his bridge, but oh well.) We found the goats, who of course claimed they never crossed said bridge, but would pay the fare anyway if we could get rid of the wolf that's been going around terrorizing everyone. So we chased the wolf all around. We nearly got him after he tried to get at some local pigs, but he got away. We finally cornered him right before he ate an elderly woman and her granddaughter. Somehow (don't ask me how) they mistook Toto for a friendly huntsman, but it didn't matter. We retraced our steps and finally got the map. After all that, it was a relatively simple matter to find the Selection of Sorcerers.”

Whether you think this account is completely accurate or not doesn't matter. All that does matter is that exactly one year after setting out on their journey, the Fellowship of Homeward Journey had reached the Selection. As I'm sure you can imagine, Lia was no longer as eager to leave Home as she had been when she first arrived. Throughout her travels, she had come to love the magical place she had appeared in. She had become fast friends with the Fellowship (excluding Lamilda). She and Tina were especially close. And the memory of Earth was fading fast. She was experiencing the same thing that the Kings and Queens of Narnia had. They too had forgotten about Earth. And that brings us back to Lamilda. She hated Lia with a passion, but she was smart about it. She knew that Lia would forget about her old home, so she made sure that wouldn't happen. Every morning, before anyone else was awake, she would use her magic. Elves have a special kind of magic. They are the ones who get little boys and girls excited on Christmas morning. They are the ones who let old men remember what it is like to be young, and widows what it is like to be loved. In short, theirs is a magic of remembering. And every morning, that is what Lamilda made Lia do. Remember. And even as she tried to forget, her dreams remembered. And so she still had a desire to return home.



Anyway, back to the story. They reached the Selection. After knocking seventeen times, the door was opened after exactly seventeen seconds. The Fellowship was told to wait in a room with seventeen chairs while one of the seventeen secretaries went in to see if the Selection would see them. After seventeen minutes, the secretary returned and said they could enter. They entered the room where the Selection worked, and saw that there were seventeen of them present. (The entire Selection of Sorcerers consists of 289 Sorcerers, or seventeen seventeens.)

“What do you want?” Gandalf asked.

“Please sir,” Lia said. “I want to go home.”

“I thought that was what she wanted,” the Wicked Witch of the West said, pointing at Dorothy.

“Oh, I already got home,” Dorothy said. “Now I'm staying Home.”

“Have you tried returning the same way Dorothy did?” Glenda asked. “As I recall, it worked perfectly for her.”

Lia nodded sadly. She had clicked her heels last night while wearing the glittering ruby slippers. It hadn't worked.

“And so you want us to send you home, eh?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, if you please,” Lia replied.

“Well, we don't please,” Voldemort said. “So leave.”

“Oh, be kind now Tom,” Dumbledore said. “After all, what harm could it do to send her home?”

“That's the problem,” Voldemort replied. “It wouldn't cause any harm. Wait a minute, yes it might.” He turned to Lia, a large, fake smile on his face. “It's very simple, how to get home girl. Normally, I wouldn't even consider helping, but I like to get mudbloods out Home as quickly as possible. Go to the Ghost Grotto and find the BridgeMaster. He will be able to link our worlds for long enough for you to return to yours.”

“Thank you very much, sir. Thank you very much!” Lia cried. And with that, their seventeen minute meeting was over and she and the others had to leave.

Once they were outside again, she turned to Dorothy.

“What's the Ghost Grotto?”

“I assume you're asking me because I'm a ghost?” Lia nodded. Dorothy sighed. “Well, don't. I don't have a clue what it is.”

“I do,” Tina said. “It's right here,” She pointed on the map. “It's where ghosts go when they retire.”

“Well, what are we waiting for,” Lamilda asked. “It's close by. The quicker we get there, the quicker we get rid of Lia! Let's go!”



The others weren't quite as enthusiastic about it as Lamilda, but they still made good time to the Grotto. Once they arrived, it was simple enough to get directions to the BridgeMaster. Once they found him and made their request, he just stared at them.

“A bridge?” he asked. “To another world? You want me to make a bridge to another world? Is that even possible?” He raised a hand to cut off their outcries. “And even if it was possible, have you ever heard the stories about such bridges? They contain a good number of warnings, let me tell you.”

“We don't care!” Lamilda told him. “Just make the stinkin' bridge already.”

The BridgeMaster eyed her. “I don't think I like your tone, missy. But I will make the bridge. For this little lady here though, not for you.” He indicated Lia. “She should be able to get home.”

“But I thought you said it was impossible,” Tina said.

The BridgeMaster tapped the side of his nose. “Oh, ho, you'll find I never said that. I just asked you if it was possible. Quite a difference there. And now if you don't mind, I'll get started on the bridge.” And that's exactly what he did.



Very soon after, he called them back over.

“It is done,” he said. “Use it as you will. I'm going to bed.” And with that, he walked off.

“Thank you!” Lia called after him. He answered with a wave. Then Lia turned back to the Fellowship. “Well, I guess this is good-bye.”

I've always hated good-byes, so I'll not go into detail about them. Suffice to say they were all tearful (except for Lamilda), and none of them (except Lamilda) were happy to see Lia go.

Good-byes said, Lia walked over to the bridge. And then disaster struck. Behind her, she heard a wordless scream and she turned. Ghost's Grotto was swarming with BadGuys. And right there in the front was Voldemort.

“Fools!” he cried. “Did you really think I'd help you? You have just opened the way. Now any of us can travel between your world and ours!”

Suddenly, a great light appeared on the western horizon. It got closer and closer until you could see it was a lion. And then the light disappeared, but the lion stayed. And roared. It was like nothing any of them had ever heard before. It was deafening, but most of all it lasted. Even after the lion's mouth was shut, they could still hear that roar, echoing in their ears.

The BadGuys retreated in disarray, and Lia stepped forward.

“Who are you?” she asked the lion.

“I am who I am,” he replied simply. “But I am called Aslan. Now listen closely little one, to what I have to tell you. You have just unleashed an evil on your land. Yet it is an evil that might yet turn into a good.”

“But how could it be good?” Lia sked. “They'll take over the world and destroy it.”

Aslan looked at her sadly. “Little one, there is no mistake that cannot be forgiven. This can be righted. It will not be easy, however. To make it so only a select few can go over this bridge, it will need a guardian. Someone will have to give up everything and guard this entryway for the rest of eternity.”

The girl looked up at the lion with tears in her eyes. “Oh Aslan. Is there no other way?” The lion sadly shook his head.

Lia wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “If only I had listened to the BridgeMaster's warning. What would have happened then?”

The great lion looked at her. “It is never told what would have happened,” he said.

“Lamilda, no!” Tina cried. Lia turned to see the green and red striped figure standing in the middle of the bridge.

“Oh Tina, can't you be quiet for just one minute?” she asked grumpily.

“Lamilda, what are you doing?” Lia asked. “Get down off of there. I was going to be the guardian.”

“Oh, come on,” the elf replied. “You don't really want to.'

“Well, no,” was the reply. “But neither do you!”

“Is that really true?” Lamilda asked. “Do I really not want to do this?” She gave Lia a rueful smile. “I might as well. After all, given the way I've behaved, I'm probably on the Naughty List anyway.” And with a wave of her hand, she crossed the bridge and disappeared.



Our story is basically over now. One of the BadGuys didn't believe the Bridge was sealed off from them. He tried crossing the bridge and was taken care of. Then the BadGuys slowly dispersed and Lia crossed the bridge and went home, where she found the same thing as the Kings and Queens of Narnia. No time had passed while she was gone.



And that is the story of Home, where all magic and imagination comes from. It is said that once someone visits it, they will remember their time there more vividly than anything else in their life. It is definitely true that Lia after her adventure, Lia was always more imaginative that anyone else in her family. And that was passed down, through the generations. But she isn't the only one who has gone to Home. Not even close. Lamilda is quite busy. She's let in J.R.R. Tolkein, J.K. Rowling, C.S. Lewis, Ted Geisel (you probably know him as Dr. Seuss), and all the others who wrote down the amazing stories taking place all the time in Home. Or Middle Earth. Or Narnia. Or whatever you want to call it.



Tales used:

Lord of the Rings

Narnia

The Wizard of Oz

Alice in Wonderland

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Peter Pan

The Septimus Head series

Looney Tunes

Hansel and Gretel

Snow White

Repunzel

Three Billy Goats Gruff

Three Little Pigs

Little Red Riding Hood

Harry Potter It is a place with many names. Some call it Middle Earth, while others prefer Narnia. One girl claims it is Oz, while another insists on calling it Wonderland. Whoville, Mount Olympus, the North Pole, Neverland... whatever you wish to call it, the place is one and the same. This is the story of how our world joined with theirs, and how we came to know about them and they of us.

Our story begins many years ago, in a time before T.V. and cellphones, before cars and the Internet, before indoor plumbing and running water. It all started one day when Lia, a Daughter of Eve (well, a granddaughter really) was sent, as usual, down to the stream to collect water. And, as usual, she was daydreaming instead of doing her job. Eventually, daydreaming turned into dreaming, and her eyes drifted closed. They opened with a start as she realized she had been drifting off, and then—

Wonder.

Lia opened her eyes to see a land right out of a fairy tale. She was sitting by a brook, which babbled senselessly out of sight. That doesn't sound too out of the ordinary. Normally it wouldn't be. Lia had listened to the small stream thousands of times. But this time, it was really babbling. There was a person, in the water, gossiping with a friend. But she wasn't just in the water. She was the water.

Lia turned in astonishment and saw that the brook was the least of it. Before, she had been alone by the water. Now the small hillock was crowded with people. Over there was a man with a goat's legs. By that bush there was another man. This one had a man's torso and a horse's legs. And there, by the tree that was walking around, there was a short little man with a large, flowing beard. But that wasn't all of them. That wasn't even nearly all of them. There were so many it didn't seem like there should be room for them all.

Now, you and I know that Lia was seeing fairy tale creatures. A faun, a centaur, an ent, and a dwarf, to name a few. But she had never seen, or even heard, of such fantastic creatures. She was just as scared of them as you would be if you saw a whangdoodle appear in your backyard. But even more than that. Because she didn't see just one whangdoodle; she saw hundreds of the little things, all swinging from tree branches. And she saw all the marvelous things little children wish to see, but never will.

She really was quite a lucky girl. And unlike most people would have, with the knowledge she had, she realized just how lucky she was. She realized that she was seeing things that no one had ever seen before. Lia stood up, gazing around, enchanted by the sights (which were too beautiful to describe), the sounds (which were like nothing she had ever heard before), and the smells (which I assure you were heavenly). She was standing by the small stream, taking it all in when suddenly-

WHAM!

Lia staggered forward, hit from behind by a small object. She spun around, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow to see... a rabbit. A rabbit, munching on a carrot.

“Eh, what's up doc?” the rabbit asked. This, more than anything else, shocked Lia. She had seen rabbits before, but like most people, she had never heard one talk before.

“What...” she gulped. “What are you?”

“Well ain't that a ridiculous question,” the rabbit said. “I am a rabbit.”

“I can see that,” Lia replied. “But why can you talk?”

“Cain't you talk?”

“Well yes.”

“Cain't your family talk?”

“Of course.”

“Cain't your friends talk?”

“I don't really know about that,” Lia said, thinking about the birds and all the other animals of the forest. “I suppose, in a way they can.”

“See? So why shouldn't I be able to talk?” The rabbit finished off it's carrot and threw the top behind it. “Now look, I'm sorry I slammed into you, but that's no reason to be rude! My name is Bugs Bunny. What's yours?”

“Lia.”

“Well then Lia, put 'er there!” The rabbit extended a paw and they shook hands. Er, paws. Hand and paw. Oh, well, you know what I mean!

The rabbit looked Lia over. “You're new here, ain't ya?”

“Yes I am.”

“Well, you'd better come with me then, before one of these numbskulls runs ya over.” Bugs gestured up at what Lia had assumed was a rock. Now that she took a closer look, however, she saw it was a leg. (You or I would know it was part of a giant, but she didn't have a clue, you see) She took an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of that foot,” she said.

“No,” Bugs said. “You wouldn't want to get on the bottomside.” And with that he was off. Lia raced after him, always managing to stay right on his fluffy little tail (figuratively speaking).



When the rabbit finally stopped, he had led Lia to a small hole.

“I can't go down there!” she cried.

“I know that,” Bugs said. “I ain't a complete moron, y'know. Not like him.” He pointed to a nearby road. There was a coyote (Lia had seen them at home), but it was doing the strangest thing. He was painting the road with something labeled “ACME Quick-Drying Cement”.

“Why on Earth is he doing that?” she asked the small figure beside her.

“Just wait and see,” was the reply.

“Beep, beeeeeep!” From off in the distance, a strange beeping sound came. The coyote jumped off the road, licking his chops. Suddenly, a blur raced across the road, spraying the cement everywhere. It flew onto the coyote and dried stiff. The poor figure was left off to the side, unable to move.

“Would you believe,” Lia's large-eared companion said “that he introduces himself as 'Wile E. Coyote, super genius'?” Lia stared at Bugs and laughed. She laughed so hard there were tears streaming down her face.

“'Super genius'? Him?”

“And you haven't even seen the worst of it,” Bugs replied. “He tries to catch that roadrunner at least twenty times a day, if not more. And then he goes off to bug other people, but the same thing always happens.”

Lia shook her head, amazed. “How can anyone be that stupid?”

Bugs shrugged. “Eh, it's what he was made for. Now are you comin' or not?” Lia looked down and saw that he had an armful of carrots.

“Is that what you wanted to come here for?” she asked. “Carrots?”

“Hey, whaddya expect? I'm a rabbit! Now come on!”



This time when the rabbit stopped, Lia could tell that they had arrived at their destination. In front of them was a small, very strange house, that appeared to be made entirely from sweets. The walkway up to the house was made of what we call rice krispy treats, but Lia only knew to be crunchy and sticky beneath her feet. On either side of the walkway was a chocolate-covered candy-cane fence. The roof was made of chocolate shingles. The windowsills, peanut brittle. Gingerbread walls, clear sugar windows, icing detailing, nougat eaves, licorice pillars, and a caramel door. Why, even the trees surrounding the house were made of gingerbread, decorated with green icing and frosted with sugar.

Lia just stood there, gaping.

“Now you know why I brought my own food. This is what passes for a carrot around here!” Indignantly, the rabbit pulled a carrot out of the nearby garden and handed it to Lia. She took it cautiously. “Go on, taste it!” Bugs encouraged her. “You'd probably love it.” So Lia took a bite. It was delicious. Sweet and sticky and smooth and simply wonderful.

“What is it?” she asked.

Bugs rolled his eyes to high heaven. “What is it?” he asked. “What is it? It's a breach in the laws of nature, that's what it is! That someone took perfectly good carrot seeds, and mutated them so they'd grow into this monstrosity. It's a crime against nature, that's what it is!”

“Well, it's a very tasty crime, if that's really what it is,” Lia said under her breath. Then in a louder voice, she said “Where did this house come from?”

“Well,” Bugs replied, munching on one of his carrots “the witch that made it's dead. Hansel and Gretel got rid of her.

“Hansel?”

“Yes. Or is it Hansal? Or Hansal? Or maybe Haaaansal...”

“Oh whatever, let's just go in!”

“Alright, alright.”

And they walked up the rice krispy walkway, opened the caramel door, and stepped into a sugary heaven.

“Eh, what's up docs?” The warm room wasn't crowded, but very nearly. There were only six people in it, and one of them was a dog, but then again there's only so big a candy house can actually be.

“Woof, woof, woof-woof-woof!”

“Quiet Toto!”

“Hello Bugsey, good to see you! Who's that you've got with you?”

“She looks like a Daughter of Eve to me. Does the High King know about her?”

“Oh shush, Trumpkin, of course he doesn't know. If he did, she'd be in Cair Paravel, not this dump.”

“I resent that! Gretel and I went to a lot of trouble to get this place, and I think it's really sweet!”

“No, really?”

“Oh Lamilda, why are you always in such a bad mood? I though you loved this house.”

“Of course I don't! You know I can only eat sugar!”

“That's why I thought you loved it.”

“Of course I don't love it! How would you like it if you had to live in a house that was made of every food imaginable that you can eat? It doesn't help that it's all of the finest quality. It's all I can do not to rip off the shingles and eat the window!”

“Alright, alright.”

“Gee, you'd think someone that could only eat sugar would be a little less bitter!”

“I heard that!”

“Oooo, I'm so scared. What are you gonna do, put me on the Naughty List?”

“I might.”

“Oh, come off it Lamilda,” Bugs said, stepping into the conversation (and still munching on a carrot) “Everyone knows its only Santa himself that can put people on the Naughty and Nice lists.”

“Maybe, but I can still recommend who should go on which. My opinion is quite important to him, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess that's why you got reindeer dung in your stocking last year, huh?”

Lamilda glared at Bugs, her honey curls bobbing beneath her fur-trimmed red hat. “I still haven't forgiven you for that yet, Bugs. You may be a toon, but some things are off limits.”

Bugs just laughed. “Anyways, this is Lia. Lia, this is Trumpkin the dwarf, Hansel (Or is it Hansal? Or Hansal? Or maybe Haaaansal...) the human, Dorothy the other human, Tina the fairy, Toto the dog, and Lamilda the sourpuss. Sorry, the factory elf.”

Lamilda blushed with fury. “I'm no common factory elf, as you well know bunny. I'm a member of the Elven Secret Police, or ESP. And believe me, rodent, I've got my eye on you.” She turned to Lia. “And this thing you dragged in.” And with that, she turned on her heel and went up the stairs, nose pointed in the air.

Trumpkin turned to Lia. “Well, that's Lamilda. Sorry about her. She's never been happy in the North Pole. She claims she's always grumpy from too much work. I say it's from too much ambition.”

“What do you mean?” Lia asked.

“It's very simple,” Dorothy said. “Hello by the way. You're from Earth right?” When Lia nodded she punched the air in celebration. “HA! Nice! Now the old warthog owes me seventy cubits!”

“Dorothy Gale, I'm ashamed of you,” Trumpkin said. “Gambling. And at your age too! Why, by dwarf standards, you're little more than a baby!”

“Trumpkin,” Dorothy said “By dwarf standards I'll never be anything more than a baby!”

The dwarf chuckled. “Well, I suppose that's true. You humans do have amazingly short lifespans, don't you?”

Dorothy giggled. “Well, compared to you we do anyway. And yes, that's a joke about your age.” She turned back to Lia. “Anyway, back to your question. How can she be grumpy from too much ambition? Simple. Who do you think of when you think of the North Pole?”

“Why, Santa of course.”

“Exactly. No matter what Lamilda does, no matter how good at her job she is, she can never be anything more than an elf. And why? Because she's not a Claus. She's at the very top now, Head of the Elven Secret Police, or ESP as she likes to call it. Although why is beyond me, she can't read my mind anymore than she can become the big boss at the Pole.”

“So,” Lia said. “So she's grumpy because she can't be the boss of Christmas?”

“Oh, now hold it,” Dorothy said angrily. “I never said anything about that. Lamilda doesn't care about being the boss. She's really great once you get to know her. But it bugs her to no end that she's still young and she can't do anything more with her life. She would never actually want to take Christmas away from the Big Guy. She just wants to know that there's something else to try for, that there's something to satisfy that mongo ambition of hers. But that doesn't exist.”

“But why was she being such a jerk to Bugs about it?”

Dorothy glanced at Bugs, who had sidled off and was now talking Hansel (Or is it Hansal? Or Hansal? Or maybe Haaaansal...) and Toto. “Well, she and Bugs have never really gotten along. She hates all toons. Thinks they're too darn silly. And Bugs, well, he can't understand a thing like that. Wonderful as all toons are, they just can't understand hatred. They can fake it you know. Oh, there's nothing like an angry toon that'll seem to hold a grudge. But they only seem to. They never actually drop pianos on people; that's just silly superstition. They just don't understand it. Even the rotten ones like that Wile E. Coyote, or Yosemite Sam, they would never hurt anyone who wasn't a toon. And toon's are indestructible, so you can't really hurt one of them.”

Dorothy continued prattling on, and soon Lia's head hurt from all the explaining. She began to wish she had never said anything about Lamilda.

“Dorothy, are you gonna keep talking till all our ears fall off?” Bugs had hopped back over and must have noticed the glazed look in Lia's eye. Dorothy blushed.

“That would be quite a feat, to make one of those things fall off.” Bugs grinned, and both his ears fell to the floor and began writhing around. Lia screamed and jumped onto the nearest candy chair. Dorothy just laughed.

“Oh stop frightening the guest and put your ears back where they belong. Cover up that huge hole in your head.” Bugs grinned again.

“Whatever you say doc.” He reattached his ears and turned to Lia. “Sorry doc, I couldn't resist. But I'm a toon, remember. Nothing can hurt me.”

“Enough chit-chat.” Trumpkin was back. “Come on, come on. Up to bed now. You'll have a big day tomorrow missy. Figuring out where you need to go. Need a good night's sleep to figure that out.”



* * * * *



“So that's all you want to do? You're sure now. You just want to go home?”

“That's right.”

“Oh come off it. You must want to do something a bit more interesting. Like kill the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“No Dorothy, really. I just want to go home.”

“Besides, the Wicked Witch of the West is already dead, remember? You killed her.”

“I know that Bugs, I was just suggesting that she do something exciting. And for the last time, I didn't kill her. I melted her.”

Bugs rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. Cause there's such a difference.”

Dorothy blushed. “Well, she's still alive and kicking anyway.”

Lamilda snorted. “Only if you consider ghosts to be alive.”

“Ghosts?”

“That's right girl,” Lamilda said. “Once you die here you become a ghost. It's hard to tell the difference. Except ghosts can only go 'where living they have trod before'. It's from an old proverb. Something about keeping people in their own stories.”

“Anyway, back to the real issue. You're sure then Lia? That's all you want to do, just go home?”

“That's right Dorothy. That's it.”

“What's so weird about that? That's all you wanted to do when you first arrived,” Tina said. “Just kept telling everyone who would listen that you weren't in Kansas anymore and that you wanted to go home.”

“Well yes. Because I did. And now I'm a ghost.”

“AHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Oh calm down Lia! It's not like I'm dead! But once someone's been here, if they leave by any means, death counting as one but only one, you leave a ghost behind. But since I'm not dead yet, I can still go anywhere in Home.”

“Anywhere in home? You mean anywhere in Kansas?” Lia asked.

“No no no. Anywhere in Home. Anywhere here.”

“But this isn't home. Home is home.”

“You don't understand. That's the name of the place. Earth is your home, but this place is literally Home. Like Earth is Earth and Kansas is Kansas, Home is Home. Do you understand?”

“Not really, but it doesn't matter.”

“Anyway, back to the point.” That was Trumpkin again. Always the voice of reason. “I say that we appoint a Fellowship of Homeward Journey to get Lia home.”

“But she's already-”

“Home with a lowercase 'h' not a capital, Dorothy. (the 'h' in 'homeward' was only capitalized because it was a proper noun, not because it talked about Home rather than home) I think that Lia needs such a group. Just as you did Dorothy. Just as Frodo did with the ring. Just as Septimus did on his Queste.”

“Septimus?” Lia asked. “Who's he? I've never heard of him.”

“Most people haven't.” (in case you were wondering, though, his story is one that can be read about at any decent library. Just ask for a history on seventh sons of seventh sons. His name should be right at the top of the list.) “But it doesn't matter. But who will undertake this? Who will go with Lia? Who will take this adventure?”

“I will!” That was Dorothy.

“Eh, I'll go, doc.” Bugs.

“You can count me in.” Tina.

“Woof, woof woof!” Toto.

“I guess I have to come. I talked to the Big Man last night and he said if it came down to something like this I had to. So I guess I'm in. Although I'd rather not be.” Lamilda, positive as always.

“I'd like to come, but I can't. Someone's got to watch the house.” Hansel. (Or is it Hansal? Or Hansal? Or maybe Haaaansal...)

“I'd like to come as well, but someone's got to report back to the High King. Now, I would suggest you try to find the Selection of Sorcerers. Miago ought to know where they are. Good luck!”



Their adventure finding the Selection of Sorcerers is so long and involved so many people it would take a lifetime to talk to them all and discover what really happened. Therefore, what I have here is (sort of) a word-for-word account of what Lia (almost) said about what happened next.

“Well, firstly,” she said. “The Selection of Sorcerers itself. As I later learned, they are they only group in existence that includes both Good and BadGuys. And Miago was the local mapmaker. That's why Trumpkin figured he'd know where to find the Selection. Unfortunately when we reached his shop, he told us was temporarily closed while he looked for the scoundrel who took his hundred year old pistol. Bugs suspected Yosemite Sam, so we went after him. When we found him, he confessed, but said he had the pistol hidden and wouldn't return it until we got back his favorite boots, which were stolen by a dwarf. We finally tracked down the dwarf (who claimed his name was Angry) who said he took them to teach Sam a lesson, but would give them back if we could wake up Snow White. Apparently, Prince Charming didn't want to come because he was occupied with all the other young ladies (the casanova) and simply didn't have the time. And when we tracked him down, he refused because he was busyrescuing a damsel with mile-long hair. He said he would come as soon as he killed the dragon that was plaguing the kingdom, though. But we didn't want to wait, so we went on ahead and found the dragon. The dragon agreed to stay away if only we would get back the scale that was stolen from it. After months of looking, we finally found the troll who took it, and the blasted thing promised to give it back, but only if we would get some deadbeat goats to pay him for crossing his bridge. (Personally, I've always doubted whether or not it was actually his bridge, but oh well.) We found the goats, who of course claimed they never crossed said bridge, but would pay the fare anyway if we could get rid of the wolf that's been going around terrorizing everyone. So we chased the wolf all around. We nearly got him after he tried to get at some local pigs, but he got away. We finally cornered him right before he ate an elderly woman and her granddaughter. Somehow (don't ask me how) they mistook Toto for a friendly huntsman, but it didn't matter. We retraced our steps and finally got the map. After all that, it was a relatively simple matter to find the Selection of Sorcerers.”

Whether you think this account is completely accurate or not doesn't matter. All that does matter is that exactly one year after setting out on their journey, the Fellowship of Homeward Journey had reached the Selection. As I'm sure you can imagine, Lia was no longer as eager to leave Home as she had been when she first arrived. Throughout her travels, she had come to love the magical place she had appeared in. She had become fast friends with the Fellowship (excluding Lamilda). She and Tina were especially close. And the memory of Earth was fading fast. She was experiencing the same thing that the Kings and Queens of Narnia had. They too had forgotten about Earth. And that brings us back to Lamilda. She hated Lia with a passion, but she was smart about it. She knew that Lia would forget about her old home, so she made sure that wouldn't happen. Every morning, before anyone else was awake, she would use her magic. Elves have a special kind of magic. They are the ones who get little boys and girls excited on Christmas morning. They are the ones who let old men remember what it is like to be young, and widows what it is like to be loved. In short, theirs is a magic of remembering. And every morning, that is what Lamilda made Lia do. Remember. And even as she tried to forget, her dreams remembered. And so she still had a desire to return home.





I hope you enjoyed this. Parts 1 and 3 are in my portfolio. If you decide to leave a review, I would love to hear any constructive criticism you have, as well as any suggestions or questions. If there are any grammar/spelling problems, I'd like to hear about those too, although I think I've already caught most (if not all) of them. If you don't leave a review, I hope you'll leave a rating.