The elves in this story speak Quenya, a language fabricated by J. R.
Tolkien. Yes I realize this is not the dialect most common in the books
but it was the only language with an English - Elfish word list. Cut me
some slack will ya? Consequently I did investigate the possibility of a
translator but all the ones I found are very expensive so I'm afraid unless
someone gives me the name of a site I can use I'll have to write using this
dialect!
The search program was working well thought Gemini as she typed away. Her eyes darted across the screen, soft blue shot through with silver they were keen and quick but ached from ceaseless use. She leaned back stretching her arms out behind her, feeling her joints cracking from stillness and glanced over at her bed. The disordered sheets and rumpled pillow looked inviting, almost inviting enough to make her take of her headset and drop off. Oh god to sleep.
Gemini brushed a stray lock of black hair out of her eyes and turned back to the screen. Her key word, Bughinns, Philip, flashed back as the program combed through sites and open files.
Gemini was pretty; she had a kind of surreal elegance that defied explanation. She didn't slip on ice in the winter or slippery floors; she didn't fall down the stairs or knock over glasses on dates. Her hair was black and glossy but refused to be worn in any way other then lank and loose around her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her mouth was a little too wide. Her figure was nothing spectacular, her hips were a little too wide and she was slim though soft and unmuscled. Her nose was a little to long and bent in the middle but it seemed to fit the shape of her face.
The only thing is her scars. They adorn her face like malformed war paint, sprouting from the corners of her lips and eyes and from beneath her hairline. They are the tragic reminders of her life spent in a squalid slum, hounded and beaten by schoolyard bullies that in an hour of drunken cruelty destroyed her face. The switchblades cleaved into her flesh like fire; they slashed and dug until she sagged in their restraining arms, no longer feeling it. And then they left her to a death that never came. So now she is scarred.
She is a geek, a nerd, a bookworm. That doesn't bother her much though. She stays indoors preferring the buzzing of computers and printers to the rumble of cars and the gabber of busy people. Her job is as a safe computer technician that goes around to people's houses debugging computers and the like. Ultimately she is happy with her life.
She's currently on one of her many hacks. This man Philip Bughinns is of interest to one Carl. S. Anderson. His name when dealing with hackers. She already knows he's a crack and dope dealer that operates in down town, guilty of several petty crimes as a youth and second degree murder when he was seventeen. His birth name was Benjamin Thompson and his name in organized crime is Benny Fingers. That much she was able to hack out of the computer files and that much is all she wants to know. He pays well and sticks to his secrecy agreement.
Her name never comes up. She doesn't exist.
Lets see lets see Philip Bughinns. no existing criminal record, social security number, good. Born in Maine twenty-six. Pays his taxes and works at a small grain company called.
Gemini is not really interested. Benny wanted everything on him right down to what brand jeans he wears. Luckily this is what Gemini excels at, why fingers comes to her when he needs the low down on some creep infringing on his territory. Because she gets everything.
Six hours later he's at her door. "Well bitch you got it?" She ignores the bitch comment.
"Where's the money Carl?" Her hair must be a fright. She hasn't brushed it in god knows how long.
"Two and a half g's just like you wanted. He hands her the bills through the crack in the door. "You ever gonna let me in there Gem?"
"No, wait here." She grabs the disk. "He wears Old Navy just so you know Carl." She has to rub this in his face. They had his card number on their files.
"Hey you done good Gem." He takes the disk in such a way that their hands brush unnecessarily. "If you open that door I'll reward you better than that two and half." Its amazing how sick this man can make her.
"Go buy a ho Carl." She says as she closes the door.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYIN' TO DO GEM BABY! YOUR FIVE CENTS!" She ignores that comment too.
Taking a mug of coffee in one hand Gemini goes to water her plant she likes plants though not the outdoors.
"Hey Norton. How you doing?" As always the big fern makes no reply, its fronds sway hypnotically in the breeze from the open window and the lush green of its leaves soothes her. "Norton. why did I name you Norton?" She asks herself, setting the mug of coffee down on top of the monitor. The headphones are still warm from where they were set on her head. More work, less sleep she thinks fitting them back on her head.
The coffee, yes that stupid mug. She was never quite sure how it happened but somehow the mug full of warm coffee fell and landed, on top of the P.C. The thing immediately erupted sparks, as it shorted out as the systems fried all Gemini knew was agony.
Electrocution. Anyone who's been there can tell you what it feels like. It feels like your insides are being cooked inside out and Gemini feels this system kill her, as she drifts into the sweet oblivion she cannot help but wonder, what comes next?
Oui, c'est horible! Just sos ya know she doesn't die! I am experiencing major writers block lately! Causing me to shell out crap like this! If you have suggestions I'd really, really, really, REALLY like to hear them. I've got some suggestions of using Thranduil as the love interest instead of Legolas and a lot of others too so use that trusty review button!
The search program was working well thought Gemini as she typed away. Her eyes darted across the screen, soft blue shot through with silver they were keen and quick but ached from ceaseless use. She leaned back stretching her arms out behind her, feeling her joints cracking from stillness and glanced over at her bed. The disordered sheets and rumpled pillow looked inviting, almost inviting enough to make her take of her headset and drop off. Oh god to sleep.
Gemini brushed a stray lock of black hair out of her eyes and turned back to the screen. Her key word, Bughinns, Philip, flashed back as the program combed through sites and open files.
Gemini was pretty; she had a kind of surreal elegance that defied explanation. She didn't slip on ice in the winter or slippery floors; she didn't fall down the stairs or knock over glasses on dates. Her hair was black and glossy but refused to be worn in any way other then lank and loose around her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her mouth was a little too wide. Her figure was nothing spectacular, her hips were a little too wide and she was slim though soft and unmuscled. Her nose was a little to long and bent in the middle but it seemed to fit the shape of her face.
The only thing is her scars. They adorn her face like malformed war paint, sprouting from the corners of her lips and eyes and from beneath her hairline. They are the tragic reminders of her life spent in a squalid slum, hounded and beaten by schoolyard bullies that in an hour of drunken cruelty destroyed her face. The switchblades cleaved into her flesh like fire; they slashed and dug until she sagged in their restraining arms, no longer feeling it. And then they left her to a death that never came. So now she is scarred.
She is a geek, a nerd, a bookworm. That doesn't bother her much though. She stays indoors preferring the buzzing of computers and printers to the rumble of cars and the gabber of busy people. Her job is as a safe computer technician that goes around to people's houses debugging computers and the like. Ultimately she is happy with her life.
She's currently on one of her many hacks. This man Philip Bughinns is of interest to one Carl. S. Anderson. His name when dealing with hackers. She already knows he's a crack and dope dealer that operates in down town, guilty of several petty crimes as a youth and second degree murder when he was seventeen. His birth name was Benjamin Thompson and his name in organized crime is Benny Fingers. That much she was able to hack out of the computer files and that much is all she wants to know. He pays well and sticks to his secrecy agreement.
Her name never comes up. She doesn't exist.
Lets see lets see Philip Bughinns. no existing criminal record, social security number, good. Born in Maine twenty-six. Pays his taxes and works at a small grain company called.
Gemini is not really interested. Benny wanted everything on him right down to what brand jeans he wears. Luckily this is what Gemini excels at, why fingers comes to her when he needs the low down on some creep infringing on his territory. Because she gets everything.
Six hours later he's at her door. "Well bitch you got it?" She ignores the bitch comment.
"Where's the money Carl?" Her hair must be a fright. She hasn't brushed it in god knows how long.
"Two and a half g's just like you wanted. He hands her the bills through the crack in the door. "You ever gonna let me in there Gem?"
"No, wait here." She grabs the disk. "He wears Old Navy just so you know Carl." She has to rub this in his face. They had his card number on their files.
"Hey you done good Gem." He takes the disk in such a way that their hands brush unnecessarily. "If you open that door I'll reward you better than that two and half." Its amazing how sick this man can make her.
"Go buy a ho Carl." She says as she closes the door.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYIN' TO DO GEM BABY! YOUR FIVE CENTS!" She ignores that comment too.
Taking a mug of coffee in one hand Gemini goes to water her plant she likes plants though not the outdoors.
"Hey Norton. How you doing?" As always the big fern makes no reply, its fronds sway hypnotically in the breeze from the open window and the lush green of its leaves soothes her. "Norton. why did I name you Norton?" She asks herself, setting the mug of coffee down on top of the monitor. The headphones are still warm from where they were set on her head. More work, less sleep she thinks fitting them back on her head.
The coffee, yes that stupid mug. She was never quite sure how it happened but somehow the mug full of warm coffee fell and landed, on top of the P.C. The thing immediately erupted sparks, as it shorted out as the systems fried all Gemini knew was agony.
Electrocution. Anyone who's been there can tell you what it feels like. It feels like your insides are being cooked inside out and Gemini feels this system kill her, as she drifts into the sweet oblivion she cannot help but wonder, what comes next?
Oui, c'est horible! Just sos ya know she doesn't die! I am experiencing major writers block lately! Causing me to shell out crap like this! If you have suggestions I'd really, really, really, REALLY like to hear them. I've got some suggestions of using Thranduil as the love interest instead of Legolas and a lot of others too so use that trusty review button!