A/N: Sorry about the long silence. We caught a nasty virus on the family computer that literally destroyed the operating system and most of my files, which took a long time to deal with. I'm going to try and make up for that now.

For those that read Birds of a Feather and wanted me to continue with it, I might do that particular pairing in this. It all depends on, yet again, if it could possibly fit in with the plot and if Mithostwen doesn't disagree with it violently. We don't want a lot of romance in it, and there'll be three at the max, one at the minimum (There's one that shall be done mostly for humor, and will obviously be split up at the end. Don't pester me about it unless you're one of those people who pester me anyways on a regular basis).

Oh, and when Mithostwen and I were writing this chapter, we realized we weren't going to be able to fit in the Vingilotë until next chapter. This entire one instead deals with various Artemis Fowl characters. Individual notes on the beginning of each section. Enjoy.

Chapter Two: Calamities and Lyres

A/N: Holly and the others are taken from a bit after the first Artemis Fowl book. Written by Nallasariel the Weeper.

"D'arvit." Holly breathed fervently, tucking her slight elfin frame into a tight ball as she rolled across the ground.

An electric shock ran up her arm as she said that, but she stopped herself from another vulgar curse. The shock was a warning to cut the language, and to hurry. She had little time to dawdle.

She gritted her teeth as she stood up from the tumble, drawing the Neutrino 2000 from its holster with practiced ease. The frictionless green surface of her LEP jumpsuit helped her slide behind the next bunker. Lasers, like a multitude of supersonic bees, hummed around her with dangerous intent as they sped from the far wall of the training arena.

Holly paused, slicking back what little of her sweat-soaked auburn hair was left in her buzz-cut, trying to catch her breath. When she had composed her angular elfin features, she ran out into the open once more.

The lasers started anew as her silhouette became apparent to the targeting systems. Reflexively she pulled the trigger of her Neutrino, and was rewarded with annoyingly high beeps as the red targets were hit.

"TIME!" a voice roared, and Holly sagged against the bulwark in relief. It was one of Commander Root's favorite drills to send his officers on; especially ones he wanted to make an example of.

In this case, his victim was Captain Holly Short.

Ever since the disastrous Artemis Fowl affair in which he had managed to hold her for ransom—and succeed—she had been in the spotlight even more then she already had for being the first female LEPrecon officer. There could be no mistakes for her, or even Root himself would not be able to stop the Council from firing her.

A soft clip-clop behind her announced the arrival of Foaly, the LEP's pet civilian. He was, as he was so fond of saying, a genius and a centaur to boot. His inventions were quite possibly the only thing keeping the Fairy People technologically ahead of the Mud Men.

Her lip curled in disdain as she holstered the Neutrino. Those humans, as they called themselves, had chased them into hiding deep underground. Now they believed them nonexistent, only fairy tales to be told by the bedside. Judging by the bustling city of Haven right outside these very walls, they were very, very wrong.

"Well done." Foaly said, straightening the foil bonnet on his brown head. He, despite the large head (Literally, figuratively and metaphorically), thought that humans were attempting to probe his mind and that the Reynold's Wrap hat would somehow protect himself against such fantastical threats. However, it wasn't very often he passed out compliments, which Holly accepted with a slight nod. Now, if she could only get by to the lockers—she had the entire female section of the changing rooms to herself—and escape a lecture…

"HOLLY!:" Commander Root roared, stalking into the large training room with all the fury that Foaly had without his carrots. His face was red, the deep, cherry red that had earned him the nickname Beetroot, and the slightly bulging eyes only confirmed the anger radiating from the elf.

Holly clenched her slender fingers around her buzz baton, wishing not for the first time that she could give Root a good zap. Frond knows how many times he got her for language…

Somehow she managed to resist the overwhelming urge, and composed her mind. "Yes Commander/" she asked cordially, brushing back her auburn hair again. For a moment she considered getting another haircut during break—it was a requirement as well as a convenience for LEP officers to have sensible buzz cuts—but was wiped away as Root snatched her shoulder firmly and led her away.

"YOU are coming with ME." He said sternly, turning the corner towards Operations Booth in the broad plaza.

Holly sighed inwardly, and let herself be led. Foaly cantered behind, and by the very verbal squelching sounds was currently entertaining a carrot. Foaly was probably the one who told Root to get me. She thought sourly, contemplating her growling stomach. And she had wanted to get something to eat afterwards. Perhaps Foaly would consent to share a few of his carrots…

Nope. Holly thought as the door of the Ops Booth sealed behind her with a pneumatic hiss. He likes his carrots too much. What could I do to get his carrots?

Before she could continue with this disturbing line of thought, Root let go of her now rather sore shoulder. She turned around in the cramped booth, wishing to address Foaly on the matter of respecting those who had foolishly skipped breakfast to help their diet along, but he seemed to absorbed with the blinking buttons to notice.

"Foaly…" Root growled, tapping the centaur on the shoulder. He was in an unusually bad mood today; usually, he respected the genius that held the entire Fairy race in his nimble fingers.

The centaur shot him an irritated look, pressing more of the lighted buttons with quick fingers. "What, Julius?"

Tomato darkened to Blackberry, and a vein pulsed on Root's forehead. Holly winced, and covered her delicately pointed ears from the upcoming blast.

"DON'T—CALL—ME—JULIUS!" Root roared, pounding his fist down on the control panels.

Big mistake. The power went out in Ops Booth, leaving them in complete and total darkness.

The first sound that came to the trapped trio was the clip-clop of hooves as Foaly made his way calmly across the Booth, pushing Holly and the enraged Root out of the way.

Root took several deep, calming breaths that probably did nothing to help his skin hue or his current temperament. "What just happened?" he seethed in the darkness, and Holly could feel him brush past her towards where Foaly had gone.

"You knocked the lock-down procedure on. By pure chance you somehow managed to press the code that triggered it." Foaly said calmly, and added with a sigh, "It's such a pain being a genius."

Holly grinned, feeling in the darkness for Root and Foaly. "I hear you."

The air in Ops heated up several degrees.

"That's not funny, Captain, and don't touch that."

Holly retracted her searching hands hurriedly, fearing what it was that she had touched. "Yessir, won't do it again sir." It was never good to anger the Commander any more then was necessary. That was Foaly's job.

The centaur must have done something, for the fluorescent lights flickered back on. Holly saw with no small amount of alarm that she was three inches from Root's crimson face and very close to stepping on Foaly, who had apparently crawled beneath one of the work-tables to fool around with the wires. She backed up quickly, fearing both reactions.

Much to her relief, the Commander turned to look at the grinning Foaly, who was now picking himself up from the spotless floor. "Well civilian? What just happened?"

Foaly sniffed indignantly, straightening the foil bonnet again for aesthetics' sake. "I've already explained it, but apparently your discombobulated cranium already encompassed its daily allocation of acumen."

Before Root could die of a possible heart attack, Holly cut in to redeem herself. "Why did you call me down here? New mission?" She asked that last part hopefully; so far, she had only been attached to boring surveillance missions in shut-down shuttle ports. Perhaps the Council had changed its mind about the Artemis Fowl affairs…

"Us." Root replied absently, his anger dissipating like goblins before a LEP raid as he lit one of his notorious fungus cigars. "He called us down."

Foaly frowned. "Put that fire out, Julius. You know the computers don't like it."

Root grimaced in return, and his face returned to the hue of his normality as he smashed the fuming butt of the cigar into Foaly's dashboard. "Back to the point. And I'm not here for another lecture as to why your department needs more money."

"Well, I would like to find out about that .1 percent discrepancy in flare prediction…"

The centaur went cross-eyed when Root jabbed his finger into the bridge of his nose. "Hurry up. Or that 'project' on Mud-Men entertainment systems goes down the drain."

Holly grinned again, greatly enjoying this miniature war between her superiors. Foaly was somewhat infamous for his obsession with Mud-Men T.V., and the project—code-named 'Rumplestilsken'—was only Foaly's excuse for watching Passions and One Night to Live. Getting rid of that would be more then just a serious annoyance to the frivolous centaur.

Foaly scowled at the Commander, and pressed more of the buttons in rapid succession. It was a hit. "I called you all down here on an important message from the Council. Apparently, they want to get Artemis Fowl down here—and on the double."

"And why do they need us to do it?" Root demanded angrily. His cigar was now only a small pile of green mush on one of the few clear spots on the dashboard, and was getting even more disgusting-looking by the second as Root ground it up with the ball of his thumb.

Foaly took a deep breath. "Vinyaya told me to call in a personal favor with you to take on Fowl again. You know how the little sweartoad is anyways. He can only have the best."

Holly and Root were openly sweating now. Last time they took on Artemis Fowl—that time with the full force of the LEP at their backs—Holly was taken captive, the kleptomaniac Mulch Diggums had died, the only troll ever to be taken alive had been crippled, a large portion had been taken from the LEP's ransom fund, and Cudgeon had lost his pretty face and Commander ranking. No one except him mourned that last one.

Holly was the first to respond. "No!" she half-shouted, backing up against the steel wall of the tiny booth. "I refuse to go after Fowl again!"

Root had a similar, albeit louder, reaction. "Vinyaya?! VINYAYA?! She owes ME a personal favor!"

Foaly couldn't resist. "A date, you mean?"

Root's already crimson complexion deepened several shades until it was comparable to a first degree burn. "No, she owes me a favor for taking over the Bigfoot incident in California!"

Holly grimaced. She remembered the incident almost as bitterly as the Artemis Fowl affair, and had no joy in remembering it whatsoever. Saskwatch would never be the same, and she owed Root yet another favor for covering for her after Bigfoot's rampage took a turn for the worse. They just keep adding up…

"Fine." The Commander grumbled, making Foaly's grin widen even more. "I'll go, but only because Vinyaya asked me to." With that, he turned to leave—only to crash into the still closed steel door.

He spun around to glare at Foaly and Holly, both of whom were both barely smothering laughter. "Open it, civilian, before I do cut Rumplestilskin and a few things besides."

Foaly nickered laughingly at the rising bruise on Root's temple. "Yes, of course Julius. And I'll be sure to pass your regards along to Vinyaya."

The last thing Holly heard from the Commander was 'DON'T CALL ME JULIUS!' before the door hissed shut in front of the indigo Root and effectively cutting off whatever other amusing remarks he had to say on the subject of his ego.

Holly hesitated too long before making her escape: Foaly beckoned to her from his queer quadrapedal chair with a smile she did not like. "I have another use for you…"

She groaned, wishing centaurs were not so slow in their calculations. It would be a long time before she would get to wring Artemis' scrawny little neck.

A/N: Same deal. Written by the Weeper, same location, same time. Notes later so I won't give away the plot.

She kept on thinking that; it took nearly eight hours for the centaur to prepare for their mission. Unfortunately for her, she was with Foaly as he rummaged around in various corners of the Ops Booth, her advice in suddenly high demand as he picked through what to bring and how they would invade Fowl Manor secretively as possible. This she didn't mind; it was carrying obscenely heavy objects out towards the shuttle-bay doors she didn't like, even if they were located inside the LEP complex. Not only that, but Foaly insisted on punctuating his relatively logical conversation with annoying remarks that made Holly want to hit him, although she couldn't due to the large packages she was carrying.

"Shut. Up." Holly said through gritted teeth, and then groaned as the centaur stacked another small but very dense package onto her shoulders. Why Foaly had insisted on using her as a little porter instead of the robotic trolley-things was beyond her, since they had a considerably smaller chance of dropping his precious cargo. Sadistic centaur.

Foaly grinned, and dropped another package onto her already staggering load from his own. "Tsk tsk, Captain. Never order your superior around."

It was Holly's turn to smile as she took another stumbling step towards the door. "Technically, you're a civilian, not an officer."

Foaly's grin did not waver as he pressed the opening code for the door. "But I can topple the entire government at a moment's whim. You, quite obviously, cannot."

She scowled at the centaur, and stepped through the door. "But I have a Neutrino 2000. I can blast you at a 'moment's whim' and you, 'quite obviously', can't even lift a Neutrino 2000.

"And I have objects on my person that I can put on your load and make you collapse before you draw your gun."

"And I can dump this entire load on you." Although she was sorely tempted, she wouldn't dare touch Foaly. Who knew what gizmos he used to protect himself?

The unlikely pair made were silent for several long minutes, each trudging through the long chrome hallway that led to the pile of gear Holly had stacked there and the final doors to the shuttle bay with only Holly's gasping breaths for sound. At least until they came to the doors.

"Say something!" Holly gasped, bending over slightly to adjust the weight of the packages. Doors to such important places required a voice identification.

Foaly glared at her. "I'm not registered."

"WHAT?!" Holly cried, standing straight up suddenly. One of the boxes slid from the carefully balanced pile in her arms, making Foaly dive ungracefully for it.

He barely managed, although it took him several seconds for him to regain his proper footing on the smooth, glass-like steel floor. After replacing his battered foil hat, he glared at Holly again. "No, I am not registered with the voice-print identification system because, as you so bluntly pointed out, I am a civilian. Ops Booth is apparently the limit for how much power one centaur can have for the Council. You'll have to do it."

"Me?" Holly gasped. "I can barely even argue with you, let alone speak clearly enough for VICKI." VICKI was the nickname most of the LEP gave the frustrating identification system, standing for Voice Identification for Cudgeon's Kronies Incorporated. Not only was the person who invented that a bad speller, but a Cudgeon-hater as well. Cudgeon was notorious for making silly little rules like that, some geared purely to annoy Fairies like Foaly or Holly. Everyone suspected Root for VICKI's naming, since it came about after Cudgeon convinced the Council to ban smoking in LEP complexes. 

Foaly shrugged, cradling his lone package like a mother would for a beloved baby. "Not my fault."

Holly groaned, and tried to catch her breath. After several long moments she said to the door, "Foaly is a moron."

The little light on the door shone red; Holly's voice wasn't recognizable, probably due to the sarcasm dripping from it like too much honey.

She tried again, this time enunciating each syllable clearly. "Artemis Fowl has no sense of morals."—a lie, although she did not know it.

Unfortunately, so did VICKI, who blinked a smug red that was nearly as annoying as Lili's endless prattling.

"Try calling me a genius." Foaly suggested mildly, shifting the box so it rested in the crook of his arm. "It'll accept the truth."

Holly glared, and had she been the live wire her hair suggested she would have punched him. However, since Foaly was always right, she said angrily, "Foaly is a genius."

VICKI was red.

"Don't. Even. Say. It." Foaly warned her, and Holly barely restrained her laughter.

Holly recovered her breath, and tried again, pulling something from her Mud-Men studies class. "Open… barely?"

The light flashed green, and the door opened smoothly. Foaly, who had been leaning on it, tumbled into the shuttle bay and landed flat on his big derrière. (1)

Sending his precious package sailing through the air.

"Catch it!" Foaly whinnied from the floor, stumbling against one stony wall. "Catch it if you value your life!"

"Can't!" Holly gasped, once more staggering beneath the weight of her packages as stumbled forward. "Too much stuff!"

Fortunately for her, Root, who had just conveniently walked into the package's path from the open shuttle doors, did not bother to look up as it plummeted down to hit him squarely on the already bruised forehead.

"D'ARVIT!" Root roared, tossing the package to the ground and clutching his twice-smacked forehead with scarlet rage.

"Watch your language, Julius." Foaly said, limping slightly as he trotted over towards the shuttle. They were the only ones in the spacious cavern, and the tear-drop-shaped shuttle was ready to launch out into the magma vent.

The transportations system was brilliant, devised, of course, by one of Foaly's ancestors. The interior of the Earth needed to release pressure ever once and a while, and this was relieved by blasting superheated magma and air up through these tubes. What they did to harness this power was to ride these like an eagle might ride a thermal, or a surfer a wave, getting a free 'hot shot' up to the surface. (2)

One of Foaly's many inventions helped to predict the occurrence of these flares in tunnels. It was 100% accurate. Almost.

Root, running each of the lumps on his forehead, gave the package on the floor a derisive kick. Foaly glared at him, and picked up the box before Root could add another dent to its smooth silver surface.

"Can someone help?" Holly panted, nearly collapsing for the hundredth time.

Root grumbled incoherently, and lifted a few of the heavier packages from Holly's huge load. She sighed in relief, and shifted the packages again to better balance the weight.

"Place them into the cargo-hold of the shuttle CAREFULLY!" Foaly said imperiously, still cradling his lone box as he stepped awkwardly into the shuttle.

Root scowled at Foaly's tail, which was all that could be seen of him from around the corner. "Be quiet, civilian. I am the one in charge here!"

"If you break that, you won't be alive." Foaly retorted from inside the shuttle. The sound of scattered button-pushing could be heard, and the hutch on the back of the shuttle opened. It came free reluctantly, groaning loudly as a few bolts twanged loose and making Holly doubt the sanity of the Council. Cudgeon must have had an affect on them…

With Foaly's obnoxious suggestions on how to pack the hold more efficiently, it took them nearly a half hour to pack all of Foaly's gear. After spending an additional fifteen minutes arguing about who would sit in front,

("I'm the best pilot, so I should drive."

"And I'm the Commander, so I get the other front seat."

"Absolutely not! I refuse to go on this mission with such imbeciles!")

they disembarked from the shuttle bay.

Holly was not pleased with her seat. It was too small even for her slender elfin frame, and Root besides her was taking up all of his meager chair and quite a bit of hers.

Why can't he go on a diet? Holly wondered, glancing at his slightly jiggling potbelly as he turned to argue with Foaly about something or other. She blushed self-consciously, and returned to the view-port.

Ahead of her, all-too-visible through the side cameras that projected onto the plasma screen, was the short tunnel that led to the main chute. In a few moments the rickety shuttle would be engulfed within molten hot magma, hurtling at mach three towards the liquid core of the world…

Don't think about it. she chided herself, vaguely remembering a similar thought process last time she took a hot-shot as she clutched the joystick in the swaying cabin. Foaly and Root are here, and they could both get out of anything. But, when she saw Root with his tomato-red face bickering with Foaly, who did not look very helpful whilst strapped to a seat meant for bipedals, her hopes disappeared like money out of goblin wallet.

The tunnel opened up, and all three of them gasped in wonder. All of Mt. Everest and most of K-12 could have easily fallen side-by-side with room to spare for Mt. Ararat. At the bottom, seen with nauseating detail by the bottom-cams, was the magma, bubbling and frothing more then a dozen miles down with brilliant red light.

Root and Foaly's fight ceased immediately, and they grabbed at the handholds. They didn't trust in Holly that much.

Holly grimaced as the fiery light brightened with the upcoming flare—or was it her imagination?—and she turned on the visor for the cameras. Being blind with the lives of three people on her hands could not be a good thing.

The tunnel came to an abrupt end, and the shuttle tottered precariously on the brink. Foaly was nearing the edge of insanity and was openly green now, having never ridden on a hotshot before (Root somehow managed to retain his red hue). 

Colors of the rainbow. Holly thought, staring down into the abyss. The shuttle lurched suddenly as a thermal swept passed them,  triggering less seemly lines of thought. Last chance to turn back. I could take a real shuttle in a few days, one that would be safer then riding the hotshots, and take on Artemis Fowl later…

Holly smiled to herself, and pressed down on the joysticks. She could feel the Mud-Boy's scrawny little neck choking beneath her hands already. She wouldn't miss that for the world. Maybe.

The plummet down was one of those breathtaking experiences that would never leave anyone, even if they were mind-wiped. Holly could feel the inertia slamming her against the worn seat, stretching the flesh on her face until it was near impossible to steer.

They accelerated, falling towards the magma below at impossible speed. Fear curled around Holly's stomach when she realized something rather important.

The flare was not coming.

The rumble, known from well over a hundred logged hotshot dives, did not reverberate through her bones as it always had before, nor did the shuttle's speed lessen when pre-flare winds blasted from the core that would have normally given them the express shot to the surface.

Root realized it too; his face had turned pastel rose, the closest thing to white he could manage. "Not good." He managed, his voice sounding choked off.

"Obviously." Holly seethed, one hand working at the joystick frantically as the other pounded at the control panel. The stabilizer wings, normally only used for steering, sprung out to try and slow their mad descent, but were ripped off in a blur as they continued to accelerate. The engines also thrummed to life beneath their feet, slowing their descent imperceptibly as they were only engines for slight boosts.

Foaly's head craned from around Holly's seat. Him, not being able to see the view-screen from his vantage point, had not been able to see their current predicament. "Are we there y—" he gasped suddenly as his war against inertia gave him a glance at the view-screen. One brown hand stretched forth in vain to try and help somehow, but he was unable to reach it. A muffled thump, barely heard against the screaming wind whistling around them, sounded as he was slammed against his seat.

"Secondary wings!" he gasped, sounding pained from behind her.

Holly had not time for any pity, although her curiosity was momentarily quirked by the fact Foaly had some knowledge of flying craft. The Academy had not given its trainees any advice in matters like these; they depended on two facts:

1) That the .1 percent discrepancy will only get one pilot out of a thousand, and

2) That pilots stupid enough to try and see how far they could dive before pulling up were not worth having.

Of course, Holly was not feeling very comforted right now in the fact Root was muttering something that greatly sounded like a promise to stop smoking if this was stopped. She was considered the best pilot in the LEP, but this was unlike anything she had ever dealt with. Firefights with B'wa Kell goblins and obsessive-compulsive pixies she could handle, but this…

They were barely a thousand feet above the magma now, plummeting down at impossible speeds. Three seconds until impact.

"HELP!" Root roared, speaking into the com-piece in his helmet. "D'arvit, can someone HELP!!"

Holly glanced sidelong at his white—yes, white—face, and knew he was afraid too. Foaly's eyes bulged slightly in his backseat; whether from fear or the pressure exerted on them, it could not be told.

They hit the roiling surface, engulfing them in a world of heat and pain. Holly could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck curl from the blistering heat, her skin charring in its green LEP uniform, see the walls curve inward as they glowed red-hot, folding around them…

And then it stopped, the walls unfolding as the powerful inertia reversed itself to flip Holly's stomach. In astonishment she looked at the half-melted view-screen, only to see the walls of the very same chute flying past them in a downward blur.

Holly looked back at Root and Foaly, unduly surprised and, of course relieved. Would Root truly have to give up smoking?

Root glanced at Foaly. "Wasn't me." He stated, shaking his again-red head. "I was taking care of keeping us alive in the pressure and heat."

Foaly, although he looked sorely tempted to take the credit, shook his head as well. "Not a lot of controls in the back seat."

Holly pursed her lips and snatched the joystick, ignoring the pain from her blistered fingers. She wouldn't need a haircut now, judging by how charred everyone was. Besides, such questions as to how they got out of that alive could wait until later. Foaly would be so pleased to have something else to think about.

Another problem surfaced when she brought up the scanner to find the surface tunnel they had been supposed to dock at: There was no tunnel, at least according to the undeniably melted scanner.

However, the strange upward force kept them hurtling upwards, and Holly, on Root's order, turned on the top-side camera. Since the image on the view-screen was blurred, due to the dip in magma they taken earlier, it only appeared as brown rock with a core of pale blue; the blue of summer skies.

"What the—" Root started, but was smoothly interrupted by Foaly.

"We're in a volcano shaft, and by the readings we're nearing the top. Set down on the volcanic plain outside it; it will probably be richly vegetated and will be able to provide food while we wait for rescue."

Root was not happy, despite the wise advice. "I'm the one who's supposed to give orders around here."

Holly turned from the immediate task and glared at the bickering Fairies. "Shut up. I need to concentrate."

They did, although Root continued to glare at the smirking centaur. They didn't want to crash again.

Holly curved over the brim of the volcano, and was instantly lost amongst the spectacular view. All around her was desolation, smoke curling from vents on the massive peak's side. Rubble were in huge mounds to the north, north-east and north-west, huddled against brooding black peaks and almost glaring across the bleak landscape they undoubtedly once ruled.

Beyond the jagged peaks to the west was a beautiful forest of green, and a ribbon of silver before a great city of pure white crammed against another range of white mountains. To the north, just visible above the uninviting mountains, was a great marshland, desolate except for a few half-hearted attempts at shrubbery until a dark green blur on the horizon.

To the west and south there was a black lake, and the mountains melded into a vast desert of gold a brown. Even from their lofty position on top of the towering peak she could not see the end of it.

"Wow…" she whispered breathlessly, guiding the shuttle over the wasteland below to try and catch a thermal from the smoking land.

Foaly shattered the moment as he unbuckled his safety harness. "Go to the river." He stated, leaning over to tap the view-screen. "I believe we're in northern Pakistan, near the border with India. To the south would be the Thar Desert, so you'd have to land near the Indus River."

Root snorted, shaking his head as he, too, pulled free of his safety harness with an audible sigh of relief. "What about the Mud-Men settlements on the river and against the white mountains? We can't get too close to the—"

Suddenly the shuttle jerked upwards, making Foaly and Root instantly wish they still had their seatbelts on (Their mothers would have been so proud). Whatever it was yanked upwards again, re-flattening the pair to the tiny foot-space and further emphasizing the bruises on Root's forehead.

"D'arvit!" they all said simultaneously, trying to recover their balance as the shuttle lurched forward unsteadily. Holly swore again, earning no disapproval from Root, and flicked on the view screens until it showed what it was that was making them lurch.

"Eagles?!" Holly shouted, nearly stopping her struggle with the joystick.

Root, clutching the arms of his chair in a now upright position, stared blankly at the screen with another rose-hued complexion. "Eagles?" he asked stupidly, staring at the giant bird gripping the shuttle by its talons. "Bu—"

"Yes!" Holly cried, thrusting down with the joystick to try and free the shuttle. It made no effect at all in the crooked flight of the shuttle, and the giant eagle glared down at the half-melted camera with fierce black eyes. Holly was greatly reminded of Marie Antoinette before the guillotine by the sharp, shining yellow beak.

Foaly, stabilizing himself between the gap spanning the backs of Holly and Root's chairs, reached over and pointed towards a bright red button. "You can always use this…"

"No." Holly shook her head. "I won't kill an innocent animal, even if it is a giant." Her unspoken words, That's what Mud-Men do., rang out in the momentary silence.

Foaly fell back with a sigh, punctuated by another lurching stab forwards. "Well, since that thing—" he jabbed his hand upwards, "—took out our primary engines, be prepared for a ling ride and a hard crash."

Holly held back a heartfelt groan. Although she was more then a little uncomfortable with being at a bird's mercy, she wasn't about to fall to the level of Mud-Men. Namely, one by the name of Artemis Fowl.

A/N: Artemis Fowl and all related associates are from the first book. Juliet is a tad OOC. Written by the Weeper.

At that very moment, Artemis Fowl was pondering the next message from theladygaladriel. As he expected, she (Or he?) had returned the message, gracefully ignoring his barbed insults as she wrote of her quest.

"Oooooooooooh! Does Artemis have a giiiiirl friiiiiiiiiiend?" Juliet asked, hanging over annoyingly above his shoulder. Some of her golden hair fell down and smothered Artemis' face, and he brushed it aside with an annoyed wave.

"No. She is a business correspondence, nothing more." Artemis said coldly, scrolling down on the e-mail message on his laptop until it showed the final page of her message.

Juliet pointed to the second-to-last line, her glittering green fingernails creating a rainbow burst on the computer screen as she touched it. "'Namrie?'" she asked speculatively. "I thought your lover would be a bit more creative with her nicknames for you."

A vein pulsed on Artemis' forehead. "First off, 'little fat one', it's not 'namrie' but 'Namárië', which apparently means farewell in her language. Second of all, she is not my 'lover', nor do I intend to ever have one. And I can't even begin to discuss what your paramours are like."

Juliet reddened to a near-Root hue. "He calls me 'gordita', not little fat one! And besides, they are always, like, the most totally hottest dudes around. Except, of course, for Orlando Bloom. Ohmygod if I really saw him I would MELT! He is SO HOT! I mean, Orli's got that awesome accent his gorgeous face the muscles…" (3)

It was at this point Artemis tuned her out. The dark study he frequented these days were his only refuge, but the bored Juliet often sniffed him out and went off while either discussing some male actor or wrestling. Nothing Artemis could do, short of threatening to fire her, could detract her from it.

Artemis frowned, examining the final paragraph more closely. The rest was just an outline of their mission and some of the people she wanted to accompany him, but this was where the Offer was made.

 "For your services I am prepared to offer you a magical lyre, created from Lúthien Tinuviel's immortality when she chose to wed Beren Erchamion. It has passed down from her descendants until Elrond Half-Elven gave it to my daughter, Celebrían, as a wedding gift. When she unfortunately passed into Eldamar, she gave it to me for safekeeping until her daughter Arwen Undomiel came of age. Arwen let me keep it in remembrance of Celebrían and of her when she chose to remain in Middle-Earth with Estel Elessar, and I have kept it by my side for many long years. Although it grieves me to do so I must be prepared to offer you my daughter's most prized possession in exchange for your much needed services. I hope you will hold my words in consideration, for the sake of all of Fantasia.

Namárië,

Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien."(4)

Artemis sat back in his Marzeti, wrinkles of concentration replacing the scowl. He, after the convincing arguments she made, conceded to the fact that her brand of magic was not a hoax (If not the whole concept of 'Realms'), and would be willing to receive such a wonderful artifact as this lyre.

But with all these others? He did not trust being among such uncouth people, and he could easily imagine one being treacherous enough to stab him in the back. Literally.

Juliet ended her Orli rant, switching to the intricacies of wrestling. Although this topic was every bit as meaningless and pointless as Orlando Bloom's best role, it did provide a solution.

Butler was gone on vacation, catching up on his training with Madame Ko. Juliet had been left behind to protect the remaining Fowls—Artemis and his mother, Angeline. She was certainly adept at the 'art' of wrestling, and was nearly complete in her bodyguard training. She, despite obvious downfalls, would make an excellent guard for this mission.

With a smile of triumph curving his bloodless lips, he typed in one line;

When do I start?

(1) Means a less polite term for the rear end in French.

(2) A geologic impossibility. I should know; my dad's the head of a university Geology department. That's Colfer's explanation, anyways.

(3)'Gordita', at least according to Mithostwen's Spanish teacher, does in fact mean 'little fat one'. If it's wrong, I will blame her in person during Geometry class.

(4) That is very uncanonical. Bear with me here, since it is better explained later and will make sense. I went over it with a few canon Gestapos, and they thought it worked nicely

I KNOW it was odd. I am horrible at writing action sequences, so sorry about them. Many things don't make any sense now but they shall in a few chapters. Trust me. Don't send any reviews regarding these until Galadriel has a little chat with a lot of them.

Vingilot and Pearl had to be pushed back until next chapter. Sorry.

If you have any questions not regarding things that appear to be plot holes (Such as the Council knowing about the Realms and having to get Artemis) don't ask. Anything else is fair game. I will answer each personally via e-mail.

Fixed version of chapter one shall be up soon. This one shall be after I get a copy passed around to my friends at school (And Mithostwen—we've just discussed this chapter).

Sorry about not updating for a while. If you truly want an explanation, e-mail me (But make sure you don't have any viruses).

Namárië,

Nallasariel the Weeper

& Mithostwen