Close to You (23 page)

Twenty-Five

Q
UIZ NIGHT. THE NIGHT ON
the tour when everyone's true colors inevitably revealed themselves. In Allie's experience, not even the most introverted and shyest of participants could hold back when their reputation as a true Tolkien aficionado was on the line.

The two teams sat around tables that had been set up in the private function room at the hotel, replete with after-dinner snacks and drinks. At the table to her left sat Team Frodo—Louis, Ethel, Sofia, and Elroy. To her right was Team Sam—Jackson, Mavis, Hans, and Esther. It was her policy to split up people traveling together as much as possible. In her experience, it only stoked the competition and made for a much more interesting night.

Of course, everyone was fully costumed for the event.

For her part, Allie wore the same Tauriel outfit she'd worn for wilderness day. It was her little slice of rebellion, since the true believers would hate it.

As a group, they'd spent the day on some more traditional Queenstown tourism activities. Everyone had taken to the Shotover Jet with gusto. Even though she must have done it fifty times, the childlike thrill of being ricocheted at high speed across the rushing water and the craggy canyons never dimmed. Though how Duchess Kate had managed the entire thing on the royal tour without so much as a hair getting out of place was beyond her. Then she'd taken Louis and his harem wine tasting and for a gondola ride while Kat took Elroy, Hans, and Sofia bungee jumping and skydiving with Esther tagging along to watch.

She tried to catch Jackson's eye. The poor guy had opted to spend the day in his room with his foot up and looked to be in a bit of a funk about it. She had spent the day trying to rid her mind of the memory of his arms around her and being cradled against his chest.

“All right, everyone, all phones and electronic devices in the box.” She pointed to the container sitting beside her and watched while everyone walked up and deposited their various devices in the box—a policy instituted three months previous after a quiz night had turned into a brawl over accusations of cheating.

Stacking her question cards into a neat pile, Allie gave them a good shuffle in front of everyone, the unbending cardboard digging into her palms.

“So this is how it works: I'll ask a question. Questions have different point values, depending on difficulty. A team has fifteen seconds to agree to an answer. If a team gets it right, they get the points. If they get it wrong, it passes to the other team for a maximum of two attempts each. We alternate who gets
the first attempt. First team to fifty points wins. Each person from the winning team gets to choose their prize from the memorabilia brochure on your table.”

She'd deliberately split the wilderness winners, Louis and Esther, to make sure as many people in the group as possible had the chance to win something.

Elroy looked like he was about to start asking questions, so Allie hurried on.

“Before anyone asks, the questions and answers have been vetted by well-qualified Tolkien experts who all agree the answers are correct. Needless to say, where books and movies conflict, books always trump. Judge's decision is final, and no correspondence shall be entered into.”

Louis raised his hand.

“Mr. Duff?”

“We were wondering if we could make this a true head-to-head?”

“In what sense?”

“Well, you still score to teams, but instead of the team answering it, we should go individual-to-individual. That way you can score both by team and individual so there could be not just a winning team, but also an individual champion. No extra prize, just pride.”

Allie looked around the room. “What do you all think? Everyone would have to agree for it to happen.”

Louis's table, where everyone had obviously already been prepped, let out an enthusiastic roar, while Team Sam paused to contemplate, Jackson's face losing color.

Hans spoke first, his heavily accented English filling the room. “I accept the challenge.”

Esther spoke in Elvish. “I am confident in my abilities.”

Allie fought the urge to roll her eyes. “One more rule—since some people in the room aren't fluent in Elvish, official answers in English only.”

She looked at Mavis. Given that both sisters had spent most of the day simpering over Louis, she was pretty sure what her answer would be. Sure enough, she nodded. “While I don't claim to be the expert, it would certainly be interesting.”

“Jackson?”

Jackson's face bore the look of someone who had shown up at a funeral, only to discover it was his own. Little beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and he licked his lips. As if he had any choice now.

He looked at her with desperate eyes and she sent him a mental shrug. What did he want her to do to save him?

“Sure . . . why not . . .” His voice jittered.

Oh dear. It was going to be like watching an unarmed man get sent into the Coliseum to take on the gladiators.

* * *

W
hat was the name of the German blimp in the 1930s that had burst into flames and plunged to the ground? The
Hindenburg
, that was it. It was like Jackson was on his own personal version of that, watching the fire creep nearer and nearer, waiting for the moment when he went down in a ball of hot fury.

It was made a hundred times worse by the sympathy that folded Allie's face; she was the only other person who knew what was coming.

He steeled himself. He couldn't afford to let her affect him at
all. In any way. Not when there was now so much more at stake.

At his table, Hans and Esther had both assumed what he took to be their competitive poses—hunched over with focused faces—while Mavis sat serenely. It wouldn't surprise him if one of the sisters blew them all out of the water. In his experience, it was always the quiet, unassuming ones who were the real threat to be reckoned with.

At least Allie structured the questions to start with the easier ones—maybe then he'd have a chance of at least getting a couple right before his pride, dignity, and chances of getting the money from his uncle went up in smoke.

The draw had Sofia against Mavis first, then him facing Elroy, Louis battling Esther, and then Ethel against Hans. A question to each.

The fellowship, in their wisdom, had also decided competitors had to stand in front of Allie, so there was no chance of their team helping them.

“Okay, for an easy one point. Sofia, what does the ‘J. R. R.' stand for in J—?”

“John Ronald Reuel.” Sofia fired the answer out before Allie had even finished the question.

“Correct.”

He let some breath leak from his chest. That wasn't so bad—even he could answer that one. A little light of hope found a spark.

No one from the other team so much as murmured approval as Allie scored a point next to Sofia's name on the board.

“Mavis. Where was J. R. R. Tolkien born?”

No hesitation from Mavis. “South Africa.”

“Correct.”

It sounded familiar. He might have gotten it.

Sofia and Mavis returned to their seats. His legs felt like logs as he stood and walked to face off against Elroy, who had a smug, all-knowing look on his face.

“Jackson, one point. What is the name of the region in which the Hobbits live?”

His brain stalled. Seconds ticked by. He had read this somewhere. He knew he had.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Esther's weedy voice echoed from behind him.

“Five seconds, Jackson.”

Elroy's face was a study in disbelief; he was clearly unable to fathom how Jackson hadn't already spat out the answer.

A word suddenly flashed before him on a page. He didn't have time to question it. “Eriador.”

One side of Allie's mouth lifted in a half smile. “Correct.”

“Elroy, one point. What is the name of the tower that holds the Eye of Sauron?”

“Barad-dûr.”

He hobbled back to the table. One round down.

The rest of the round passed in a blur. Everyone else got everything right. No surprises there.

Two rounds later, he managed to pull another rabbit out of the hat and was now matched against his uncle. His team was down by two points after Hans had gotten the answer wrong to a question Jackson didn't even understand.

Allie looked at the question card and then at him, her eyes trying to tell him something, but he had no clue what. “Jackson, which female character did J. R. R. Tolkien introduce in
The Hobbit
?”

There was a rumble of discontent from the other table. “That can't be two points. That's a gift,” someone muttered.

He knew this one, he knew he did. He looked at Allie's outfit and the name flashed into his mind. “Tauriel.” He said it loudly, confidently. Not only had he not made an idiot of himself against his uncle, he'd get his team back in the game thanks to the feisty leader of the Woodland Elves.

Allie visibly winced as a chill settled across the room.

“That is incorrect. Louis?”

His uncle looked at him with pity. “It's a trick question. There are no female characters in
The Hobbit
, except a couple of passing references to Belladonna, Bilbo's mother.”

“Correct.”

No. What were the chances he'd be able to convince his uncle the painkillers had muddled his brain?

“We want to trade.” Esther's voice rang out. “He's a fraud.”

* * *

T
auriel. Of all the characters he could've chosen, it had to be her.

Fans had only just managed to reconcile themselves to Arwen's prominence in the films, and she at least had been a creation of Tolkien's, appearing in the appendices to
Lord of the Rings
.

Tauriel had been a hundred times more controversial. Not only because she was entirely invented by Peter Jackson and his writing team for the sake of the movies, but because the actress Evangeline Lilly said in an interview that people who knew Elvish had “too much time on their hands,” which had gone
down like a sack of cement with those who considered themselves true followers.

It was the look on his face that had almost undone her. For a second, he'd truly believed he had the answer and had managed to get his team back into the game. His whole face had been transformed.

Then the way it had crumpled when Louis had delivered the real answer . . . She'd have to have been heartless not to feel sorry for him, especially after little Miss Arwen added her jibes to his humiliation.

She looked down at her cards. After another three rounds in which the other team had pulled even farther ahead, Jackson stood in front of her again with Ethel, looking defeated before she even opened her mouth.

They were now into the three-pointers. The questions only people who had pored over the books and appendices would have a chance of being able to answer.

She looked at Ethel. The dark horse who had so far gotten everything right and was in the lead. Everyone else had gotten a question wrong at some point—even Sofia, the walking Tol­kien thesaurus.

“Gandalf was revealed as a keeper of one of the three Elven rings. Who was it that gave him this ring?”

The woman didn't even pause to think. “Cirdan.”

“Correct.”

Allie flipped to the next card and looked at the question.
In what battle was Fingolfin killed?

She pulled in a breath. Jackson wouldn't even know who Fingolfin was. Turning to him, she created a question and hoped he would remember their passing conversation. “What
token was used by Gondor to signal urgent help was needed from allies?”

He looked at her. The seconds ticked over. He didn't remember. Then an odd expression passed over his face. “A red arrow?”

She blinked. He had. “Correct.”

Behind him, his table erupted into cheers.

* * *

S
he made that question up just for him. He would've been suspicious anyway, but he knew it for sure because he caught a glimpse of the word
Fingol
on the card she was holding, which was neither in the question or the answer to the one she'd asked him.

His team had still lost, but he was okay with that. Winning would have felt too much like cheating, especially after his Tauriel debacle.

Across the room, Allie was chatting with Sofia, but her gaze would occasionally wander his way and a smile played upon her lips that made him want to kiss her senseless.

Which made the ankle and the crutches a blessing in disguise. It also made him feel like the world's biggest heel for what he was about to do, but having spent the day stuck in his hotel room, staring at the gorgeous view while pondering his options, he didn't see any other way.

This is what I have to do, right, God?
His attempt at a prayer was clumsy. It had been a long time, but despite the news from home last night, he'd woken up in the morning with a disconcerting certainty he needed to at least give the faith thing a shot. It couldn't possibly make things any worse than he'd already managed on his own.

Finally wrapping up her chat, Sofia left the room and Jackson hobbled toward Allie.

She met him halfway.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Thanks for the question.” His palms were clammy. He was stalling, trying to delay what he knew he had to say.

She arched an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Gosh, she was so beautiful. Her hair was done in some kind of elaborate side braid, which was all very nice, but it was the knowing smile on her lips and the mischievous gleam in her eye that undid him. She had the power to make him forget about Nicole, the farm, his mom's cancer, all of it.

Suddenly he realized he had been staring at her when it was his turn to speak. “About last night—”

“So, there's something—”

They both spoke at once, their words piling on top of each other.