the-otherwise-occupied

[the-otherwise-occupied]

"Someday"

Written by an ADHD man in a letter to his wife

Someday,

Somehow,

I shall remember

To take the potato your mother gave me last Friday

Out of my knapsack

But alas

That Day

Shall ever be

Tomorrow, tomorrow.

But on that day,

Through much rejoicing,

And possibly French fries,

A shroud of mystery shall silently hang

In the corner

For your mother gave me not one potato, but two

So where the fuck is the second potato.

[the-otherwise-occupied]

Cud

And so it was that Harry Potter, Nobby Nobbs, and Legolas found themselves in the Cantina.

(Yes, really. And if you think that was painful to read, imagine what it was like to write.)

Harry was a bit apprehensive.

Give him a muggle pub any day. Drunken Muggles had the capacity to become fantastically dangerous when they set their minds to it, but at least it was a straightforward kind of dangerous. Drunken wizards, on the other hand, tended to get a bit more... complicated. Not that Harry couldn't deal with complicated – god knows he'd seen his fair share of complicated – but he was not an idiot. This was someone else's complicated, and he didn't know the rules.

Or the other players, for that matter, Harry thought. He was sitting at a table with someone who claimed to be an elf, and something that claimed to be a human, and he didn't really believe either of them. Harry privately suspected that the former was part veela. The latter, he hypothesized, might be part tomato-lentil soup.

Legolas reclined lazily on his chair. He, unlike Harry, was completely at ease. He was, in fact, that special kind of at ease that can only be achieved by trained monks, and people who have been to several plains of existence and had proven to be very nearly the most deadly thing in all of them. There was plenty to be wary of in this tavern, he was sure, but he doubted that there was anything he couldn't contend with.

The bespectacled boy to his left, he thought with an amused smile, embodied a possible exception. He'd proven, rather surprisingly, to be quite capable when pressed. Legolas was fairly confident that this would not be an issue, however. The boy seemed genuinely amiable, even protective. A bit tense, perhaps, but that was not only understandable but wise. It was refreshing to see a genuinely competent human who wasn't secreting overconfidence from every pore.

Legolas looked over at the third member of their party. He was one of those rare creatures whose very existence raised the deepest of philosophical questions, but the elf had decided to forgo grilling him. He just seemed so helpless. Legolas was truly bewildered as to how an individual with such an obvious absence of survival skills and apparent lack of natural defenses and could have possibly stayed alive for as long as this one had.

The man in question, in sharp contrast to the elf, had started his day in a quiet state of abject terror.

Nobby Nobbs was a two-time winner of the popular 'So You Think You Can Ugly?' and had been ranked in the top ten of the city-wide 'Ankh-Morpork's Ugliest People' catalogue for eight years running now. And as Nobby always proudly pointed out, that had become quite an achievement since the goblins moved in.

Most people don't think of being ugly as a positive thing, but it had certain advantages. People were less likely to grab you when they weren't sure of what exactly it was that they were grabbing, anatomically speaking. Nobby was well aware of how many times his life had been spared simply by virtue of the fact that he was Nobby.

In this city, though, Nobby was pretty certain that he didn't qualify as Top Ten material. He wasn't even sure he was top ten in this section of the bar. He felt insecure and unprotected. He felt lost and threatened. He also felt a primal, desperate desire to not mention that he was a copper in this really quite lovely establishment, sir.

There'd already been a few close calls. Just a few moments before a couple of, er, people, probably, had invited him to their game of Pin the Knife on the Nobby. Nobby had graciously declined, but they had insisted. Ultimately his two companions declined for him – rather spectacularly – and his day had been improving dramatically ever since.

Nobby's friends were, to be honest, several classes above him, but that was exactly the kind of companionship that he was used to. The first one was clearly an elf, which was Bad, and this elf was currently lounging on an iron chair and showing every sign of comfort, which was Very Bad. It did seem that this elf liked Nobby, though, so that was alright for now.

His other companion was probably the wizard who won the contest for World's Tiniest Staff. Even before Nobby had witnessed his abilities in action he'd decided that this was clearly a man who felt no need to overcompensate. Like, at all.

"Did you see those guys??" asked Nobby disbelievingly. "Did you see 'em??"

"Briefly," Harry smirked.

"That one bloke was all covered in fur!" he gushed. "'Cept for his bum! An' you could see his bum onna count of him wearin' it on his face!"

Harry snorted; Legolas chuckled. The elf said, "We saw them, Nobby. Though to be honest I was less interested in his facial features than I was his arm," he said with a significant look at Harry.

"I'll say! Nobby agreed enthusiastically. It was made of metal!"

"Yes," Legolas agreed, not taking his eyes off Harry. "Emphasis on 'was.'"

Harry looked embarrassed. "It was just a disarming spell," he explained. "I use it all the time. I've never seen it behave quite so… literally before. There must have been some kind of weapon built in to it."

The elf nodded. That, at least, made sense. The sheer quantity of weaponry that had sprung forth, tearing free from beneath the creature’s clothing had been quite impressive. The poor thing had been left very nearly naked. The incident with the arm was unfortunate, perhaps, but he almost certainly deserved it. And anyways, it wasn't every day that you got to see someone flatulate the words 'not again'.

"D'you know what I was thinkin' when I first saw 'im? D'you know what I was thinkin'? I looked right at 'im an' thought: Imma call him Bumface," Nobby proclaimed proudly.

Legolas winced. Harry dropped his head to his hands and said, "We know, Nobby. You were thinking out loud."

"That's what got you in trouble in the first place," Legolas explained, yet again in awe that Nobby had apparently lived to see puberty.

"Was I?" asked Nobby, undaunted. "Didn't notice. Now the other guy, I'll call him... I'll call him…"

"Nearly Noseless Nick," asserted Harry automatically.

Nobby laughed maniacally. "Yeah! Even more so now that 'e's had a go at it!" he said, nudging the elf with his elbow.

"I think I need a drink," said Legolas.

Nobby, after some spirited yelling and arm waving, eventually procured what transpired to be a remarkably uninformative menu. They ordered drinks at random.

"Hey Legolas," said Harry with a sidelong glance. "Aren't you a little tall for an elf?"

Legolas sighed. The elf wasn't sure exactly who or what his friends were, but he wasn't particularly worried about it. The same could not be said, apparently, for the boy. This was not the first question of its kind, and the novelty of it was wearing off.

"No, Harry," replied Legolas tiredly, "though you're above average for a hobbit."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

Their drinks arrived. Legolas's was green, and tasted salty and alcoholic. Harry's was hot, syrupy, and translucent. Nobby's was red and purple, and went untouched due to the thing floating in it. A quick word with the waiter had confirmed that it was indeed, supposed to be there. A quick word with the waiter had confirmed not confirmed whether or not it was alive. Nobby ordered something else.

"It isn't right," he muttered. "Nothin' should have both tentacles and fur. It's unnatural." The others were not inclined to disagree.

Nobby's second drink came, and turned out to be filtered water. He decided that it was fine, if a little exotic for his taste.

They'd been sipping their drinks in silence for a while when Harry noticed Legolas staring intently at a section of the wall. He leaned in to the table, trying to catch the elf's eye. Failing, he spoke up.

"Uh, Legolas?" Harry asked, after a moment. "What are you staring at?"

When the elf replied a moment later he did so without breaking his gaze. "Nothing at all. Tell me, Harry, do you know where we are?"

"I thought you knew," he said casually. "I'd been meaning to ask you, actually."

"I see. And how did you arrive?"

"Oh, well I…" Harry stopped and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Uh, I'm not sure, now that you mention it," he said, suddenly feeling slightly stupid and very disturbed.

"I assumed so. And you, Nobby?"

"Oh, I woke up under that table."

The other two stared at him.

"And you did not find this odd?" asked Legolas carefully.

He stared at them blankly.

"Does that happen to you a lot?" asked Harry slowly.

"What, me wakin' up on the floor? Twice a week. Igor says it's good for your back."

They kept staring.

Sensing this wasn't enough, he added, "Wakin' up under the table was weird, I guess… Igor says that's bad for my head, unless I wear my helmet…"

The elf's expression changed from one of concern to one of fascination. "I think Harry's question was referring to our location, geographically," he said carefully.

"Oh! Well why didn't you say so. I'd've told you from the start that I dunno nuffin 'bout jeogriffy," said Nobby dismissively.

More staring.

"I'm no good at maffs," he added.

"…Right," said Harry impatiently." Let's try this again. How exactly did you get here?"

Nobby looked at him oddly*. "Well I don't know, obviously. What'd be the point in wakin' up in a pub you 'aven't been to afore if you remembered how you got there? That'd make no sense at all, would it."

(*Though it should be said that this was pretty much the only way that Nobby could look at anything.)

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and closed it when he realized that he had nothing to say. The elf shook his head. Sometimes when Nobby's words filtered into your brain it felt like a square peg trying to insert itself into, well, your brain.

The elf gathered his thoughts and turned to his companions. "So how did you know that we were together, the three of us? Why did you trust me? Because you did, didn't you. Right from the start. Do you know me any better than you know anyone else in this strange place? I, for one, certainly haven't met either of you before this day."

The other two remained silent.

"Well, I don't know either," said the elf. "And," he added, turning back to the wall, "I'm staring at nothing. Nothing at all."

Harry followed his gaze and saw it.

Nobby however, had stopped listening. "Hey!" he shouted, "Where's my drink gone? Someone nicked my drink!"

"Your water is in your hand, Nobby," said Harry without taking his eyes off the wall.

"No, the other one! The one wot looked like noodles with a wig on!"

Harry looked at the table where the questionable beverage had once been. There was nothing there. About a cup's worth of it.

"I… don't think anyone nicked it," said Harry, nudging Legolas under the table.

Legolas moved his gaze from the wall to the table and stared at it for a long moment. He was sensing… something.

Finally he looked directly at Harry and said, "I agree with Harry. The waiter must have taken it when you expressed your disgust."

"I don't remember hi-"

"You're probably just remembering wrong," Harry said firmly.

Nobby grumbled something under his breath something about waiters stealing drinks. Then more audibly he said, "Well at least the bloody music's stopped." And indeed it had.

Legolas and Harry scanned their surroundings. There were considerably less of them than there had been twenty minutes ago.

The elf was troubled. What he sensed from the nothingness was much more earthy than he would have expected. There were overtones of magic, to be sure, but it was predominantly physical or emotional, and almost completely mundane. Like a weight in his stomach, but not. It was frustrating. He could feel the shape of it, but it was just out of reach.

"Hey Legolas," said Nobby.

The elf ignored him and concentrated. He clenched his teeth. He almost had it.

"Hey Legolas," Nobby repeated. "Where's Harry gotten to?"

He looked at Harry's place at the table. It wasn't there.

The elf closed his eyes.

"I think he's gone," the elf replied quietly.

"Gone?" Nobby asked. "Like, to the toilets?"

The elf looked at him intently for a moment.

"…Yes," he replied eventually.

Nobby looked at the elf strangely*. Something in the way the elf had said the word 'gone' scared him a little.

(*He could do that, too.)

Legolas gritted his teeth. It was on the tip of his tongue.

"Did he say how long he'll be? D'you think he'd mind if I finished his drink?" Nobby asked hopefully.

Legolas unclenched his teeth. "Definitely not," the elf said with absolute certainty. He clenched them again. So close now.

"It's just that his drink might get cold, I wouldn't want him to have to drink a cold... whatever this is," he said, drink already in hand, "Practic'lly doin' him a favor!"

Legolas disregarded him. He clenched and unclenched his teeth. Clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched…

And then he understood. It really had been on the tip of his tongue.

It was a taste.

The elf slowly leaned back into his chair, suddenly feeling very heavy.

And then the Harry's drink was on the table, right where he had left it, almost as if Nobby hadn't touched it at all. Nobby, who was, in fact, gone.

Legolas bowed his head sadly.

He'd been alive for thousands of years, and encountered magics of countless types and kinds. This one wasn't evil, he knew, just a little unfortunate at times. And anyways, there was nothing he nor his friends could have done. It was over long before they had met.

The elf sat in silence for a time. You cannot delay the inevitable, but there was no reason to rush to it. He savored his salted drink for a a few more moments.

Finally, with a sigh, Legolas raised his glass to the empty bar, and held it up for a slow heartbeat.

"To friends, ever fleeting; to stories, ever told; and to you, my Baku beast-friend, and your belly."

He drained his cup. Then, somberly, he stood and walked to the door.

He took a breath and left the cantina.

And then he was gone.

---

The Baku rolled over, belched, and chewed contentedly. Nightmares were the stuff of dreams, he always said, but one does get tired of all the chaos. Stories were a nice change every once in a while.