Æthelflæd nodded to herself as the "New event!" appeared across the screen again. It read . . .

"Whoah. Flaed. You okay?? I mean, sheesh, one moment I'm chasing you and then you ask me 'What manner of enemy are you?'????? Has your brain finally cracked?"

Æthelflæd narrowed her eyes at the screen. How dare this Mouse . . . person . . . cast aspirations upon the sanity of the Lady of the Mercians!!

Angrily, she typed,

"You have terrible manners and I shall cure you of them with my sword."

********

{Mercia}

A random steward that we will call Cynewulf for no reason whatsoever blinked. "Uh . . . Lady?? Your brother Edward is here to see you . . . Where are you?"

********

"This is so COOL!" said Ryani. "I mean, we could bring anyone out through that computer. We could bring Shakespeare . . . or Homer . . . or Virgil . . . or Elizabeth I!"

I nodded. "But how do we send them BACK? I mean, as cool as it is having THE Æthelflæd here . . . She kind of needs to get back to her own time."

"Uh . . . think about that later."

"You're hopeless."

Meanwhile . . .

"It's A FOIL!!!! FLAED, YOU KNOW NEVER TO CALL THEM SWORDS AROUND ME!!! FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIL!!" read the newest message.

Æthelflæd needed some good strong insults. So she picked up a book lying by her in the hopes of gleaning some.

But . . . as fate would have it, it was book called . . . "1066: The Year of the Conquest."

So she saw that a man named William conquered England.

Then she went ahead and read what he did to England.

The Mouse-thing was forgotten. Remembering my message to Ryani, she went to the strange "webpage" that she had seen me use when she came . . . it was called Google.

With cool, barely controlled rage, she typed, "I wish to see Duke William of Normandy as he really is".

POOF! Æthelflæd went flying the customary three feet, and a man dressed in armor stood before the computer, looking frantically around him. Then he muttered something.

Æthelflæd clicked the button that allowed them to converse, then turned her attention to William.

The duke's first inkling that something was wrong was when the flaxen- haired woman before him grinned sadistically.

His second inkling was when she somehow produced a Saxon sword.

And his third came when she chased him out of the room, through the hallway, and down the stairs (pursued by my dogs, of course), screaming battle cries and several other things, most of which would up the rating to NC-17, so we aren't going to write them here. Especially since NC-17 stuff isn't allowed. (Though I see absolutely nothing wrong with chasing William the Conqueror around with a sword. Buuuuuuuuuuuurn, Norman, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn . . .)

"Uh . . . Flaed. Æthelflæd just chased a guy in a suit of armor out the door, down the hallway, and, from the crashing noises I heard, down the stairs as well."

"I wonder who it was . . . WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR????" Yelling some battle cries myself, I shot out the door to deal with the infidel.

********

Æthelflæd had the man cornered.

"YOU SHALL PAY, FIEND!"

"For what?"

"YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE!"

"What?"

"YOU WILL DIE!"

"For WHAT?"

She rolled her eyes. "FOR CONQUERING MY HOMELAND, YOU FOOL!"

"Oh."

"NOW DIE!"

"Aack! Hey! I didn't want your stupid country! It hates me! I hate it!"

"HOW DARE YOU HATE MY BEAUTIFUL-"

POOF!

Just as Æthelflæd was about to deliver the final blow, William the Conqueror disappeared, and a letter printed on paper in the shape of a pig drifted to the ground. It read:

"Can't kill people. It would mess history up. Yes, it is quite annoying, but I'm basically here to make you want to rip out your hair and tear things apart."

I ran in. "DIIIIIIIE-hey, where'd he go??"

Æthelflæd snuffled. "He got sent back to his own time . . . that little-"

"No swearing."

"Did you hear what I was saying to him before?"

"No. And I don't think I want to, either."

The Lady of the Mercians sulked all the way back up the stairs . . . where we were greeted with a newcomer.

"Guess what?" whooped Ryani. "I brought Elizabeth through!"

********

Ryani and I started to puzzle out what was happening with the computer, while Æthelflæd and Elizabeth attempted to get to know each other.

"So," asked Elizabeth, eyeing the strange sweet liquid called "Coke" suspiciously, " who are you?"

"Æthelflæd."

"Elizabeth."

"I figured that. So . . . what do you do in your own time?"

"I'm a princess."

"Really? So am I."

"Where is your kingdom?"

"Mercia, basically."

"And that is where?"

"England."

"Wait. I'M the princess of England."

"No way, collar lady, I'm the one."

Ryani and I turned at a crash to see the two princesses waving forks at each other.

"IMPOSTOR!!!!!!!!" screamed Elizabeth.

"DAUGHTER OF A DANE!!!!!!" retorted Æthelflæd.

"Uh-oh."

"You can say that again."

We forced them to sit down and not attempt to kill each other.

********

{Elizabeth's Court}

Sir Walter Raleigh looked frantically around. WHERE IN THE WORLD WAS ELIZABETH???????

********

{My house}

The doorbell rang.

I opened the door to see my friend Flavia.

"Hullo, Flaed!" she said, walking in.

"Uh . . . Hi . . . Flave . . . wanna . . . go . . . uh . . . do . . . uh . . ."

"You okay, Flaed?" asked Flavia, staring at me.

"Uh . . . sure I am!!"

"Okay!! Can we go online and read the professor story?"

"Uh . . . uh . . . no."

She blinked at me. "Flaed, you live off the computer. Why the sudden change?"

There was a crash.

"DO NOT INSULT ME, COMMONER!!"

"COMMONER?? G'rrrrrr . . . I BET YOU CAN'T FIGHT OFF DANES!!"

Æthelflæd and Elizabeth rushed past us in a blur of sword and cooking utensils.

"That's why," I said.

********

Ethelflaed: Aiyaiyaiyai . . . Next chapter; one last arrival (for a while) and The Horror Of Television.

Also, Ryani and I will get a bit farther on who exactly is in the computer.

^____^ I got two reviews!! Meesa is happy! Okay . . . so one is from Ryani . . . ^___^ But the other one isn't!

The professor story is a fan fic on . . . well, GUESS . . . but I give Cestari credit for it.

Oro.

Replies!

Ryani of the Panther: (blinks) Why am I replying to this? Why? Why? What is the square root of eighty-one? Nine!

Tamara Raymond: I swear I wasn't going to do that. But it was just too good . . . ^___^ It is "eth" like in "ethanol". Or at least that is how I say is. Eh-thel-flad.

I have absolutely no idea what a Chicago accent sounds like. Well . . . I do sort of. And there's a guy in an anime I just finished who speaks with a cross between a Brooklyn and Chicago accent. (Guess what his name is. Woodchuck. One of life's scary coincidences . . .)

Is there ANYone that doesn't use "hafta"? I use it a lot. (sweat drop)