Disclaimer: Everything is Tolkien's.
Author's Note: I know, I know, there are already enough "journal fics" out there, but I love Elfwine and I don't think he gets enough attention. Yes, Elfwine is a canon character and no I have *no* idea what his parents were thinking when they named him. You'll notice as this story moves on the mentioning of cousins Morwen and Elboron. Those are the children of Faramir and Eowyn. Elboron is canon. Morwen is not. However, Morwen is NOT a Mary- Sue and I believe she(under possibly different names) is used throughout the fandom because for some reason, people like Faramir and Eowyn having a daughter. Eldarion's the son of Aragorn and Arwen. I'll be making up names for their various daughters. Woohoo for various daughters!
Enough with my rambling. On with the show!
Early Morning Bedchambers
"You are so angry, Elfwine," Said my mother last night after I called one of the serving girls a cow. The wench deserved it, I still say. She's always giggling about my name and mocking me to the other servants.
"Maybe if you wrote some of your thoughts down, you wouldn't shout them out at people. My mother always used to say that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Then I'll be flipping mute until the end of time, but that girl's always going to be a cow and if I don't tell her, someone else will. Of course, I was wise enough not to say that to my mother. She always gets testy when Father's off fighting something(At the moment, the remaining supporters of Sauron in Harad. Idiots.) because she thinks he'll just go and die. I know not to get on Mother's nerves around these times. I learned that the hard way.
The conversation resulted in Mother assigning me the duty of keeping a journal. A JOURNAL, mind you. Not a diary. Diaries are for maidens. Mother somehow thinks writing down my thoughts will keep me from saying them. Ha ha. It's so amusing I could laugh, but instead, I'll just write my laughter down because nobody can ever say I don't do what my mother tells me to. I have a sense of duty and honor, you know. Unlike my wench of a cousin, Morwen. "Aunt, I don't want to sew. Don't make me! Aunt, I don't want to groom the horses! DON'T MAKE ME!" Little tart. There's thirteen years of parenting wasted by my aunt and uncle. Elboron is far more tolerable and doesn't constantly have his nose stuck in a book.
Mid-day Dining Hall
Caught the cow giggling about my name. Good Lord, woman, you've known my name since you were born! Is it still so amusing over a decade later? Elfwine. Elfwine. ELFWINE.
Curse you, Father! Why did you shame me with such a name?
Hmmmm. Shame and Name rhyme.
Ha. That'll amuse me for a few moments.
Evening Dining Hall
At dinner with Mother. Aunt Eowyn, Elboron, and the tart arrived a few hours ago for a week long visit. Apparently, this nice little visit had been planned as a surprise for me since my birthday is in a few days. This is the worst gift ever. I'm spending the entire meal writing in this journal and occasionally glowering at my female companions. Not at Elboron. As I've said, he's tolerable.
Elboron just asked me why I was keeping a diary. Don't I know diaries are for maidens? Elboron is no longer tolerable. If I were not such a mature and understanding young man of sixteen years, I would smack my cousin.
I will settle for simply glaring at him for the rest of the meal. Mother and Aunt are discussing how things are faring between them and their husbands. Aunt is saying how wonderful Uncle Faramir is and how he's doing a wonderful job taking care of the kingdom while King Elessar and Father are away taking care of the fools in Harad.
Uh oh. Aunt and Mother are looking at me. With a maternal look in their eyes. I sense doom. Or potential remarks on how handsome I am getting.
"Elfwine has become quite a writer since I last saw him," Aunt says. Mother laughs in her, "I'm entertaining company and feel the need to pretend to be actually entertained" way and responds,
"Yes, well I asked him to keep a journal to write his thoughts down in,"
Two snickers. Elboron and the tart are laughing at me, their hands covering up their mouths. Glare at them. If they weren't younger and obviously smaller than me, I would have to hurt them.
"I think it's very cute, Elfy," says the tart. Oh....Oh. She used THE name. I will exact vengeance. I don't care if she's a maiden. I don't care if she's small. I don't care if she's the daughter of my father's sister. I will have revenge. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
Going to eat my food now. Put away the journal, Elfwine. Focus on your potatoes. See the potatoes, Elfwine? Eat them. That's a good lad.
Late at night Bedchambers
Put one of my pet mice in the tart's bed. Ah, that old mouse sacrificed himself for a good cause. I will relish that scream forever.
Of course, Mother now wants all of the bedchambers checked for mice, which means one of these nights, I will probably be sharing a room with one of my cousins. I'm not going to worry about that now. When the time comes, I will think of what to do.
After all, I will one day be a king and must fine-tune my strategic abilities. Speaking of my future position, why won't Father let me go to battle with him? I'm ready to fight. I've known how to use a weapon since I was four. Just because of that silly law that you can't go into battle, unless the kingdom is in a state of emergency, until you are eighteen. That's just two years away. Barely anything. Of course, there's that little thing that if both my father and I die, Rohan would be left without a king or heir making Elboron the king. Plus, my mother would no doubt die of grief.
My father and I are her world, you see.
I wonder if I can nick some pastries from the kitchen at this hour. I didn't get to eat much dinner. After I put my journal away, the tart kept whispering, "Elfy" and she and Elboron would burst into laughter like a bunch of.....well, I can't think of what right now, but something annoying and loud that laughs a lot. The point is, it distracted me and I excused myself from the meal.
If it weren't for Father, I would suspect that I am not related to this family at all. Nobody seems to share my opinions on anything and my mother thinks the tart is the sweetest thing on Arda since, well, tarts.
Agh, I've gone back to writing about pastries again. I'm going down to the kitchens. Goodnight.
Mid-Morning Gardens
Hiding in a tree, avoiding all family. One of the servants caught me in the kitchen last night and no amount of attempted bribery and blackmailing could stop him from informing my mother. Blast him. He goes on my "Banishing When I Become King" list along with the tart, the cow, and that strange "blind" servant who is always stealing my collection of stones.
Anyway, when the servant informed my mother, she was quite upset. Not only that I would sneak food(she hates it when I do that. Can't understand why), but that she had to be woken in the middle of the night. Well, blast it woman, if you don't want to deal with it at night, than wait 'til morning. She kept complaining about me waking her up for a solid hour. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
And of course, this morning at breakfast, Mother had to shoot off her mouth about my nighttime antics to Aunt and cousins. The tart has a theory that I sneaking out to meet a maiden. Little tart. My mother, who I believed would have rather had a daughter than a son, believed the tart and proceeded to scold me on sneaking out and having, "flings" with "strumpets" who I will never marry.
Obviously, the mouse was not enough of a lesson for the tart. I will have to think of another form of revenge.
So, I am reduced to a coward as I hide in a tree before I can be scolded for something else. Also, just so I can stay away from my cousin. Little tart. She can't climb trees. Ha ha. The daughter of the mighty Eowyn and Faramir can't climb a simple tree.
It's so amusing to sit here and make fun of the tart and not get a smack for once. You were right about this journal, Mother. It does help me.
Author's note: End chapter one. So, yeah. That was a lot of fun to write. I hope you guys want more because I want to write more. I'm not going to bother asking for reviews because I wouldn't post this story on a website for everyone to see if I didn't want feedback.
Author's Note: I know, I know, there are already enough "journal fics" out there, but I love Elfwine and I don't think he gets enough attention. Yes, Elfwine is a canon character and no I have *no* idea what his parents were thinking when they named him. You'll notice as this story moves on the mentioning of cousins Morwen and Elboron. Those are the children of Faramir and Eowyn. Elboron is canon. Morwen is not. However, Morwen is NOT a Mary- Sue and I believe she(under possibly different names) is used throughout the fandom because for some reason, people like Faramir and Eowyn having a daughter. Eldarion's the son of Aragorn and Arwen. I'll be making up names for their various daughters. Woohoo for various daughters!
Enough with my rambling. On with the show!
Early Morning Bedchambers
"You are so angry, Elfwine," Said my mother last night after I called one of the serving girls a cow. The wench deserved it, I still say. She's always giggling about my name and mocking me to the other servants.
"Maybe if you wrote some of your thoughts down, you wouldn't shout them out at people. My mother always used to say that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Then I'll be flipping mute until the end of time, but that girl's always going to be a cow and if I don't tell her, someone else will. Of course, I was wise enough not to say that to my mother. She always gets testy when Father's off fighting something(At the moment, the remaining supporters of Sauron in Harad. Idiots.) because she thinks he'll just go and die. I know not to get on Mother's nerves around these times. I learned that the hard way.
The conversation resulted in Mother assigning me the duty of keeping a journal. A JOURNAL, mind you. Not a diary. Diaries are for maidens. Mother somehow thinks writing down my thoughts will keep me from saying them. Ha ha. It's so amusing I could laugh, but instead, I'll just write my laughter down because nobody can ever say I don't do what my mother tells me to. I have a sense of duty and honor, you know. Unlike my wench of a cousin, Morwen. "Aunt, I don't want to sew. Don't make me! Aunt, I don't want to groom the horses! DON'T MAKE ME!" Little tart. There's thirteen years of parenting wasted by my aunt and uncle. Elboron is far more tolerable and doesn't constantly have his nose stuck in a book.
Mid-day Dining Hall
Caught the cow giggling about my name. Good Lord, woman, you've known my name since you were born! Is it still so amusing over a decade later? Elfwine. Elfwine. ELFWINE.
Curse you, Father! Why did you shame me with such a name?
Hmmmm. Shame and Name rhyme.
Ha. That'll amuse me for a few moments.
Evening Dining Hall
At dinner with Mother. Aunt Eowyn, Elboron, and the tart arrived a few hours ago for a week long visit. Apparently, this nice little visit had been planned as a surprise for me since my birthday is in a few days. This is the worst gift ever. I'm spending the entire meal writing in this journal and occasionally glowering at my female companions. Not at Elboron. As I've said, he's tolerable.
Elboron just asked me why I was keeping a diary. Don't I know diaries are for maidens? Elboron is no longer tolerable. If I were not such a mature and understanding young man of sixteen years, I would smack my cousin.
I will settle for simply glaring at him for the rest of the meal. Mother and Aunt are discussing how things are faring between them and their husbands. Aunt is saying how wonderful Uncle Faramir is and how he's doing a wonderful job taking care of the kingdom while King Elessar and Father are away taking care of the fools in Harad.
Uh oh. Aunt and Mother are looking at me. With a maternal look in their eyes. I sense doom. Or potential remarks on how handsome I am getting.
"Elfwine has become quite a writer since I last saw him," Aunt says. Mother laughs in her, "I'm entertaining company and feel the need to pretend to be actually entertained" way and responds,
"Yes, well I asked him to keep a journal to write his thoughts down in,"
Two snickers. Elboron and the tart are laughing at me, their hands covering up their mouths. Glare at them. If they weren't younger and obviously smaller than me, I would have to hurt them.
"I think it's very cute, Elfy," says the tart. Oh....Oh. She used THE name. I will exact vengeance. I don't care if she's a maiden. I don't care if she's small. I don't care if she's the daughter of my father's sister. I will have revenge. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
Going to eat my food now. Put away the journal, Elfwine. Focus on your potatoes. See the potatoes, Elfwine? Eat them. That's a good lad.
Late at night Bedchambers
Put one of my pet mice in the tart's bed. Ah, that old mouse sacrificed himself for a good cause. I will relish that scream forever.
Of course, Mother now wants all of the bedchambers checked for mice, which means one of these nights, I will probably be sharing a room with one of my cousins. I'm not going to worry about that now. When the time comes, I will think of what to do.
After all, I will one day be a king and must fine-tune my strategic abilities. Speaking of my future position, why won't Father let me go to battle with him? I'm ready to fight. I've known how to use a weapon since I was four. Just because of that silly law that you can't go into battle, unless the kingdom is in a state of emergency, until you are eighteen. That's just two years away. Barely anything. Of course, there's that little thing that if both my father and I die, Rohan would be left without a king or heir making Elboron the king. Plus, my mother would no doubt die of grief.
My father and I are her world, you see.
I wonder if I can nick some pastries from the kitchen at this hour. I didn't get to eat much dinner. After I put my journal away, the tart kept whispering, "Elfy" and she and Elboron would burst into laughter like a bunch of.....well, I can't think of what right now, but something annoying and loud that laughs a lot. The point is, it distracted me and I excused myself from the meal.
If it weren't for Father, I would suspect that I am not related to this family at all. Nobody seems to share my opinions on anything and my mother thinks the tart is the sweetest thing on Arda since, well, tarts.
Agh, I've gone back to writing about pastries again. I'm going down to the kitchens. Goodnight.
Mid-Morning Gardens
Hiding in a tree, avoiding all family. One of the servants caught me in the kitchen last night and no amount of attempted bribery and blackmailing could stop him from informing my mother. Blast him. He goes on my "Banishing When I Become King" list along with the tart, the cow, and that strange "blind" servant who is always stealing my collection of stones.
Anyway, when the servant informed my mother, she was quite upset. Not only that I would sneak food(she hates it when I do that. Can't understand why), but that she had to be woken in the middle of the night. Well, blast it woman, if you don't want to deal with it at night, than wait 'til morning. She kept complaining about me waking her up for a solid hour. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
And of course, this morning at breakfast, Mother had to shoot off her mouth about my nighttime antics to Aunt and cousins. The tart has a theory that I sneaking out to meet a maiden. Little tart. My mother, who I believed would have rather had a daughter than a son, believed the tart and proceeded to scold me on sneaking out and having, "flings" with "strumpets" who I will never marry.
Obviously, the mouse was not enough of a lesson for the tart. I will have to think of another form of revenge.
So, I am reduced to a coward as I hide in a tree before I can be scolded for something else. Also, just so I can stay away from my cousin. Little tart. She can't climb trees. Ha ha. The daughter of the mighty Eowyn and Faramir can't climb a simple tree.
It's so amusing to sit here and make fun of the tart and not get a smack for once. You were right about this journal, Mother. It does help me.
Author's note: End chapter one. So, yeah. That was a lot of fun to write. I hope you guys want more because I want to write more. I'm not going to bother asking for reviews because I wouldn't post this story on a website for everyone to see if I didn't want feedback.
